Title: Fallen (1/?) (The Sequel to Ready for a Fall)
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairings: Alex/Callie, Addison/Mark, Meredith/Derek, Cristina/Burke
Summary: In Ready For A Fall, Callie's marriage to George ended and she found love and happiness with Alex. Now, it's Addison's turn to get married, Meredith is engaged to Derek, and Cristina and Burke are slowly rebuilding their own life together. There are many ways to fall. Some are good. Some are bad. And when you hit the earth ... you've simply fallen ... and sometimes it hurts too much to stand again.

Prologue

"How long does it take for newlywed sex to stop?" Callie asked, putting her tray on the table in front of Addison. With a groan, she eased into the seat and shifted uncomfortably. "Because as much as I love it ... it’s killing me."

"Your lipstick is smeared," Addison told her, looking back down at the open bridal magazine in front of her. "Do you think the gourds were a good idea?"

"Gourds are typically Halloween like," Callie replied, rubbing her mouth with her napkin. "We’re doing the dress fitting this afternoon, right?"

"Yeah. Do you think the color I chose will work for you guys?" Chewing her bottom nail, Addison pulled a huge swatch of color samples from her purse, flipping through the ring of fabric until she found a shade called Latte. She moved into the chair beside Callie’s and held it under her friend’s chin, then against her cheek. "It looks great with your hair, but I don’t know if it’ll work with Cristina and Meredith. It’s more taupe than Latte. That’s a fall color, right?"

"It’s fine," Callie assured her for what felt like the millionth time in the week she had acquired the color samples. When Addy flipped back to the orange swatch that she had been mulling, Callie snatched the ring and put it under her leg. "I refuse, refuse, refuse to wear Pumpkin. It’s not happening."

"It's an October wedding, Callie."

"And I’ll carry a gourd as a bouquet, but I will be wearing Latte when I do it. Or burgundy. That’s a nice fall color."

"You did *red* at your wedding, which is a variation of burgundy. I want to be original." Addison watched as the black haired woman rubbed a hand over her face. "You’re pale. Why are you pale? Oh my god! You cannot get sick! I am getting married in *twenty one* days, Callie.

"I’m not sick. I’ve been married for *four* months today. Alex seems to think that means we need to have sex every four hours to celebrate it. I cannot do it again today."

"I know what will stop the sex."

"What?"

"Have you told him about the air show yet?"

Callie’s eyes widened and she shook her head. "Hell no. He’d kill me if he found out I signed up to fly in it."

"Four months of marriage and you’re already keeping secrets?"

"It’s not a secret! My name is right there on the program."

Addison shook her head. "And because Alex will be getting one of those programs ... he’ll know?"

"It’s a sin of omission. It just hasn’t come up in conversation."

"Calliope, you should be ashamed." Addison sipped her Coke as she regarded Mrs. Karev. "Now you’re lying to me. It did come up in conversation. Alex asked you if you wanted to go see the air show and you said that you weren’t interested. That was the perfect opportunity for you to mention that you were getting in for free ... you know ... because you’re performing."

"Shut up." Callie lifted her burrito and bit into it, taking a moment to savor the medley of flavors. "The hospital cafeteria has greatly improved since Irene took over."

As if on cue, Alex’s mother walked out of the kitchen and headed across the lunchroom toward Callie. She kissed her daughter in law on the head as she slid two pieces of chocolate cake on the table. "New recipe. You ladies are my guinea pigs. Let me know what you think before you leave."

"Why wait?" Addison asked, ignoring her salad and digging into the cake. She bit into it and cried out rapturously. "Can you make this on a bigger scale, Irene?"

"What do you mean?" Irene asked, smiling as Callie had the same reaction to dessert.

"Well, I need a groom’s cake for my wedding and Mark *loves* chocolate."

"You want it in any particular shape?" Irene replied.

"Boobs?" Callie suggested, then chuckled when Addison flipped her off. "Okay, not boobs."

"What boobs?" Cristina asked, sliding into the seat on the other side of Callie. Without asking, she scooped up Callie’s cake and snatched the fork out of her hand. With her mouth full, she rolled her eyes heavenward and said, "No way Stevens baked *that*. That is too damn good for words."

Addison slapped Yang’s hand when she reached for hers. "Get your own!"

Irene laughed. "There’s plenty more. And you let me know what you decide, Addison. I’d love to help. Callie, honey, you look tired. Maybe you should try to sleep after lunch."

"From your lips to God’s ears," Callie replied, then stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. "I feel like death."

The thought of getting near an on call room struck fear in Callie’s heart. She had attempted to nap that morning and woke up to her pants slipping over her hips. The sex was *good*. There was no denying that the sex was good, but it was just. too. much. Alex was insatiable and while it made her feel wanted ... it also made her spend time hiding when she wasn’t working. She snapped out of her thoughts when Addison demanded the color swatch. With a sigh, Callie handed it over and watched Cristina grit her teeth as Latte was pressed against every inch of her exposed flesh.

"Awww, how’s my Bridezilla?" Mark asked as he arrived carrying his tray.

"Doing her best to walk down the aisle in traction," Cristina answered for the redhead. "If you press one of those pieces of fabric on my cheek again ... I’ll shove it so far up your ass that you’ll need *neuro* surgery to take it out. Got it?"

"Ouch," Callie said. "Looks like someone is riding the cotton pony."

"I have cramps *and* bloating," Cristina replied.

Mark ignored everyone except his fiancé. "Do you want to come eat lunch with me? Where you and your neurotic behavior can be appreciated?"

"I can’t," Addison told him. "I’m scrubbing in at one o’clock, but the offer is duly noted and I’ll repay you later."

"I’ll hold you to that." He winked at her and headed across the room to join Derek.

"Guess what?" Addison asked Cristina. "Callie still hasn’t told Alex about the air show."

Cristina made a face. "CK, you already had one of the world’s shortest marriages. Are you trying for number two?"

"He’ll never know!" She smiled at the nickname her friend had given her. CK, her new initials.

"Uh huh," Addison replied, getting to her feet. "You’re either a glutton for punishment or naive as hell."

"How will he find out? I’ve sworn all of you bitches to secrecy," Callie told her.

"Tell him. I’m serious." With that, Addison turned on her heel and left the cafeteria, pausing to kiss Mark, who watched her exit like a lovesick dog.

"You really should tell him." Cristina bit into her hot dog and glanced toward the door. "Now’s your perfect chance."

"Oh god." Callie watched her husband pause to talk to his mother, then he frowned Callie’s way and she quickly turned her attention back to her lunch. A moment later, he appeared beside her and said, "Are you finished eating?"

"Yeah. I was just keeping Cristina company," she replied. Wearily, she added, "Why?"

"Come with me."

"Alex-"


"Come on." He took her arm, pulling her to her feet, then he gave her a kiss and traced the name on her jacket. "Calliope Karev. That sounds amazing."

"It feels amazing," she said, hugging him.

"I despise cute newlyweds. Go away now," Cristina ordered, waving her hands like they were annoying gnats. "Must digest."

"Let’s go." Alex took his wife’s hand and led her to the fourth floor on call room. He walked behind her at one point, noticing the way she stepped gingerly, the way her hips didn’t have their usual swing. When they were locked safely behind the doors, he kicked off his shoes and said, "Get in the bed."

"Alex, we need to talk." She held her ground, even as he advanced on her. "I love you dearly, but -"

He pulled his shirt over his head and she swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. The tattoo over his heart, her kiss, rippled as he carelessly tossed the garment aside and she opened her mouth to speak, only to have him put his finger against her lips. "You’re exhausted, baby. Let’s go to sleep."

"Did you eat lunch?"

"Big breakfast," he replied, tugging her shirt off. He watched as she kicked her shoes aside and slipped her pants down, then frowned when he saw the bruise on her thigh. "Damn, Callie. I - when did I -"

She glanced down at her leg. "You didn’t do that one. That was the gear shifter last night." Turning, she showed him her back. "But that was this morning."

He touched the bite mark on her bronzed skin, then leaned forward and kissed it. "It won’t happen again."

"Uh, yeah it will." Turning, she smiled at him, then poked a particularly nasty bruise on *his* chest. "We do it in equal measures and I *like* it, remember?"

"Are you okay?" he asked seriously.

"I’m *fine*, Jock Strap, but if you don’t feel guilty enough yet to give me a massage ... I think I can cry from exhaustion."

"Evil." He pulled back the cover on the bed and waited for her to crawl in.

Callie smiled when he began to rub her back. Married life was definitely agreeing with her. She was happier than she had ever been. They had not fought *once* since their July fourth wedding unless you counted the minor disagreement during their European honeymoon. It was something they laughed at *now*, but at the time it felt horrible.

It was the stupidest fight known to mankind ...

"I don’t want to do it." Alex vehemently shook his head. "No part of me is interested in this, Gothika."

"Couples do it all the time!" To prove her point, Callie gestured at the man and woman who were about to jump over the side of the bridge. They had their arms around each other and the man’s screams were only slightly less pronounced than the girls when they dropped. "How many people can say that they bungee jumped in France?"

"Not me, but all those people can." He nodded his head at the impressive line. "Why do you *still* have a damn death wish?!"

"It’s safe!"

"We’re not doing it."

"*I* will do it and you can stand here on the bridge and miss out on all the fun," she shot back.

"If you even *attempt* to walk past me ... you’re going over without the damn bungee cord."

"Alex!"

"NO!"

"Fine, let’s just go sit in the hotel room and twiddle our thumbs. That’s a nice, safe way to enjoy our first day in FRANCE!"

They didn’t speak as they headed back toward their insanely small two seater car. Alex opened the door for her and she got in, her arms over her chest. He wanted to slam the door and kick the tire, but he didn’t. Instead, he kneeled down beside her and took her hand. "I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry if I’m that dull bastard who values your life a little more than a cheap thrill. You just mean the world to me and -"

"Can you please be the dull bastard who makes it a little easier for me to stay pissed?" She smiled at him. "Stop saying the perfect things."

Denying her anything was proving to be impossible for Alex. "Do you really want to do this?"

"Do you really *not* want to do this?"

"I really don’t, but if you want to ... we can."

"No," Callie replied, leaning down to kiss him. "Some other time."

"Are you sure?"

"Alex, you give me so much. I don’t want to be that person who abuses it. Do you want to go to Notre Dame today instead of tomorrow? We’ve got time."

"I actually liked the other idea. The hotel room, but we won’t be twiddling our thumbs."

"Now that’s a plan." She kissed him again. "Our first married argument. Let’s never do it again."

"You’ll change your mind when I show you what married make up sex feels like."


And just like that ... the fight had ended.

They both mistakenly assumed that it would always be so easy.


Chapter One

The Sky High Air Show was always a big attraction, but this year surprised everyone, especially Callie. She had participated twice in the past and still had to do a double take when she saw the crowd from the air. People had flocked to see ‘Purple Haze’, a jet propelled big rig who Callie would be playing chicken with at the end of her run. She knew that her friends were front and center and she would be passing right beside them for a complicated maneuver that involved being upside down and practically on top of the crowd, but she had done it effortlessly every time she rehearsed and she knew it would blow their minds. And it was fun. She’d be high on adrenaline for days after all was said and done.

She wasn’t flying her jet today. She was flying an ethanol based stunt plane that she had fallen in love with. It had a skull painted on its underbelly and fireflames on the tail. And it handled so easily that she had decided to place an offer to buy it. So far, she hadn’t heard back, but since she offered more than the plane was worth, she doubted it would be rejected. Flying was in her blood and she wanted to do it as often as she could. Her private jet was a great travel plane, but *this* plane was built for crazy stunts so that’s just what she did as she climbed into the air. She rolled, a move called ‘Tsunami’ that caused so much G force that she thought her chest would explode. To take her mind off the pressure, she turned her music up loud and executed another roll, this one as she did a nosedive for the earth.

"OH MY GOD!" Addison screamed, covering her eyes as the little plane raced toward the ground. "DID SHE LOSE CONTROL!?"

"Somebody sedate her," Cristina suggested, eating popcorn. Callie pulled out at the last minute and tipped her wings at the crowd as she zoomed past. The cheers were deafening. Cristina raised her arms as if Callie could see. "Damn, she’s good."

"SHE’S DEAD!"

Everyone turned and looked at Alex, who was a few feet away from them. "Busted," Mark said. "Hey, man."

"Hey, man?" Alex growled. "Did you actually just say ‘hey, man’ like this is -"

"Callie Karev has been flying since she was a child," the announcer’s voice boomed. "The move that you’re about to witness will bring her within twelve feet of the runway. It’s called a ‘boomerang’ and you’re about to see why."

Addison covered her mouth when she saw the fear on Alex’s face. He moved forward, gazing up at his wife who was once again barreling toward the ground. Callie flew so low that the plane disappeared for a moment and then she shot straight up, leaving a plume of smoke that looked just like a boomerang, v-shaped. "She knows what she’s doing," Addy said, attempting to calm him down.

Alex said nothing as his eyes followed the plane. He half listened to the announcer go on and on about each complicated trick and time seemed to drag so slowly that he wondered if there were *any* other pilots working that day. When Callie flipped the plane end over end at one point, his fingernails dug into his palms and he felt someone put a hand on his back, but he moved away. They had betrayed him just as surely as Callie had. They had kept her secrets.

"She made us promise not to tell you, dude," Cristina told him, watching his jaw tighten. "How did you find out?"

He still didn’t look away from the plane, which was now a small dot against the clouds. "Webber asked me why I wasn’t here when everyone else had begged off to watch her."

"OH SHIT," Addison cried. "I was supposed to tell Webber to keep a lid on it."

"You have a survival instinct, Addy. Use it and say no more," Mark whispered. "He’s pissed as hell."

The announcer kept on talking from a few feet away, oblivious to the drama unfolding. "The next move that you’ll see will involve the bridge to our left. This bridge has a clearance of eighteen feet below it and like a camel through the eye of a needle, Karev will take the plane under ... upside down."

"No way!" Cristina cried, moving forward for a better view. The bridge was so close that she didn’t need to move at all, but squatted down for good measure, so that she could see it all.

Alex moved forward involuntarily. The look on his face suggested that he was torn between staying and running. He felt his heart lurch in his chest and put his hand over it when Callie turned the plane upside down right before she got to the bridge. For the briefest moment, he thought he saw her black hair, and then ... then she cleared the bridge and zoomed past them, climbing back toward the sky. The applause was deafening and briefly ... it drowned out the blood rushing in his ears. But only for a second.

"And now ... ladies and gentlemen ... what you came here for. In your right hand corner we have Purrrrrrple Haze, the big rig capable of three hundred and ten miles per hour at the drop of a hat. In the left hand corner, we have Callllllllie Karev, in her stunt plane which is also capable of -"

"What is she doing?" Alex asked, snatching the program from Addison’s hand. He read through it and swore. "What the fuck!?"

"Alex, she’s been practicing for weeks. It’s okay." Mark clapped him on the shoulder. "She’s fine."

"It should be noted," the announcer went on, "That there will be so much smoke on the runway that Callie will have to pilot her plane on instinct alone. She won’t be able to see the truck through the Purrrrrrple Haze it will create and she’ll have to -"

"I wish he’d shut up," Addison said, glancing at her best friend’s irate husband again. "Alex-"

"Zip it," Alex growled.

They heard the big rig before they saw it. It thundered onto the runway and revved its engine. Callie flew down behind the trucker and it looked like she had landed on top of him for a moment. Instead she let her wheels skim the runway right in front of him, attempting for intimidation. The truck driver revved his engine, seemingly from anger, and then Callie was in the air again and executed a stomach churning loop that sent her flying back toward the truck. The driver hammered down and the jet fuel that propelled it sent flames shooting behind it as it darted straight toward Callie, who was letting her wheels graze the tarmac again.

The smoke that issued from the truck was indeed purple. Callie’s plane was emitting white and as the two raced toward each other, everyone held their breath. Alex dropped the program in his hand when Callie disappeared into the haze, then she shot straight up and the truck, still flaming, broke through the white and let a parachute fly from its backside, causing black smoke to join the purple and white as tires squealed to a stop just inches from the end of the runway.

Alex snatched the program from the ground and flipped through it. Callie wasn’t finished yet. She did a few more tricks while the truck set up for another run. She created a heart shape against the blue sky, then a figure eight, and then the truck was revving again and she flipped upside down in mid air and from the vantage point on the ground, it looked like the cockpit of her plane was resting on top of the truck as flames and smoke and noise propelled them down the runway so fast that you could blink and miss it.

Alex didn’t blink.

And the tears that blurred his vision didn’t erase enough of the scene before him to really ease his mind.

After another fifteen tense minutes, Callie’s part of the show ended and she landed gracefully. She had gotten clearance for all of her friends to come into ‘the pit’ and she smiled when she saw them walking toward her as she powered down the plane. That smile faded, however, when she saw Alex. One of the ground techs pulled a ladder over and Callie took a deep breath. Her getaway could not happen now. If she started the plane and took off again ... she’d probably crush the tech.

Reaching up, she unhooked her oxygen mask and hung it over the yoke, then she unlocked the pit glass and got to her feet. She left her helmet on, with the visor covering her eyes so no one could see the apprehension there. The tech extended his hand and helped her climb down the ladder, then congratulated her on a fabulous run. Callie thanked him and turned in time for Addison to hug her.

"How long has he been here?" Callie whispered, daring to glance at Alex, who had moved to the other side of the plane.

"Almost from the beginning," Addy replied. "Callie, he was almost crying. He was that scared."

"Move," Cristina elbowed Addison out of the way and looked up at Callie. "It’s so sad that you lived through this madness only to be murdered by your husband. We told you to tell him."

"We’re going," Mark said, grabbing both women by the arm. He gave Callie an unmistakable look of sympathy as he led them back the way they’d come.

Callie took a deep breath and moved around the plane to join Alex when her friends were out of earshot. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he looked her up and down, making her feel like he was measuring her worth ... and finding her lacking. "I’m sorry," she said, adjusting the zipper on her flightsuit.

"You’re not sorry," he snapped.

"I did this for charity."

He scoffed. "Whatever, Callie."

"I don’t want to fight with you."

"Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you look me in the face and tell me that you were doing this? Do you know what it felt like to watch you? How it felt to see you taking stupid risks and -"

"I’ve been training pretty hard for this, Alex. This is what I’ve been doing instead of helping Addison."

"So you’ve been lying to me about that, too? All the times that you’ve been telling me about dress fittings or about flower bouquets ... you’ve been doing this?"

She nodded. "I had one dress fitting, but the rest ... I’m only telling you this so you’ll realize that I wasn’t just up there being foolish. Everything is planned and choreographed and it’s *safe*."

"Do you know how many pilots die at airshows?" he asked.

"Not as many drivers who die on the road."

"Callie, most drivers don’t purposely go out of their way to be reckless! Oh wait, you do, right? You’re a street racer and you’re oh so proud of that." He threw his arms in the air. "Fuck it. Do what you want to do."

"You’re overreacting."

"Mrs. Karev?"

Callie turned and gave the owner of the airplane a tense smile. He extended his hand and informed her that he was accepting the bid she had placed to buy the plane. "Anyone who can fly this death trap like that deserves to have it. I’ll even knock fifteen thousand off your offer. I’ll have my lawyer contact yours."

Callie thanked him and when she turned to look at Alex again ... she knew that he had only been pissed before. He was now so infuriated that she doubted he could speak.

She was wrong.

"YOU BOUGHT THIS THING!? YOU’RE DOING THIS SHIT AGAIN!?" he yelled, ignoring the glances that people shot their way. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING!?"

Before she could reply, he told her to fuck off and walked away.

She didn’t bother with the meet and greet that all the pilots participated in. Instead, she went home, still dressed in her flight suit and waited for him.

He never showed.

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie’s food sat untouched in front of her the following day at lunch. Cristina approached her with caution, making a face when she saw the state her friend was in. Callie's black hair had been piled up on top of her head and she wore no makeup. The dark circles under her eyes suggested a night spent crying and when Yang heard her sniffle, she figured that the crying had extended into the new day as well. "Hey," she said, sitting down beside Callie. "He’ll come around."

"He didn’t come home last night."

"I know. He spent the night on Meredith’s sofa after he got so drunk that he puked on Stevens’ shoes." Cristina opened her can of soda and glanced down at Callie’s plate. "You’re not eating?"

"Not hungry."

"Don’t do this again, Callie." Cristina picked up Callie’s can of tea and flipped the tab, holding it out until her friend took it. "You remember the feeding tube, right? You know that your dad will have it put back in."

"I have been married *four* months and my husband has already left me." Putting the can back on her tray, Callie started to get to her feet. Cristina caught her arm, however, and pulled her back down. "I have to-"

"He hasn’t left you. He’s pissed. It’s better to be apart until he calms down because he’s bound to say something he can’t take back and you’ll hold a grudge. So sit there and eat because he just walked in and if you leave he’ll think you don’t want to talk to him."

Callie turned and looked toward the lunch line. Sure enough, Alex was checking out the sandwiches and she bit her lip when he chose one and went to pay. Not wanting to be caught watching him, she stared at Cristina who nodded after a second and said, "He’s coming over here."

If Alex was shocked by her appearance, he didn’t comment. Instead, he stopped beside her and said, "What time are you getting off?"

"Six," she replied hopefully. "Do you want to -"

"I’m stopping by to get some of my things. I’d rather do it while you’re not there."

Callie’s stomach felt like it was turning inside out and she was grateful she hadn’t eaten. "You - you’re leaving?"

"Well, let’s think about this, Callie." He finally met her eyes. "Do I want to stay with a woman who lies to my face or do I want to go? It seems pretty cut and dried to me." When she opened her mouth to reply, he cut her off, "I’ll go before you get off. I’ve looked at you enough today."

Alex headed across the room, not sitting with Mark and Derek who both waved at him. Instead, he sat at an empty table beside a group of nurses and turned his back on the room at large. Within minutes, he was laughing at something a cute blond was saying and Callie walked out of the cafeteria, not looking his way. She stayed locked in the bathroom for as long as she could, but she was paged after three hours. She had cried so much that her chest ached and her hands were trembling when she lifted the pager and checked the number.

ER. 911

Getting to her feet, she opened the stall and paused at the sink to wash her face. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were flushed and puffy so she grabbed a face mask from the hallway to cover the worst of it. For good measure, she tucked her hair under a scrub cap so she at least gave the appearance of working. Alex was standing just behind the small crowd and he glanced her way when she walked in, but didn’t acknowledge her beyond that.

A multi car pileup on the freeway had several patients inbound and Callie felt like a zombie as she reached for the yellow trauma suit and slipped it over her scrubs. Yang tied it for her and handed her a pair of gloves as they headed out into the ambulance bay to await the incoming traumas. Addison and Meredith appeared a moment later and Addison put an arm around Callie’s shoulder, hugging her. Neither woman spoke as the sirens grew louder.

Meredith reached down and squeezed Callie’s gloved hand with her own. "For what it’s worth ... he thought about calling you last night. We stopped him, though. It was three in the morning and -"

"I was awake," Callie replied, her eyes on the emergency entrance.

"He wasn’t saying much that you’d want to hear," Mer said. "But he’ll come around. He will."

The ambulance arrived and Callie opened the back door.

For the first time in her life, work didn’t take her mind off her own problems.

Callie was needed in two surgeries so she worked with Derek, whose patient was the most critical of the two, first. She put pins in a woman’s legs while Shepherd relieved the brain pressure. He tried to make small talk, but Callie mostly replied with grunts and nods so he gave up. She finished quickly and headed into Mark’s surgery, drawing up short when she saw Alex standing beside him.

Wordlessly, Callie examined the x-rays that had been tacked onto the light panel. Gazing at the films didn’t relax her like it usually did. The man’s wrist had been shattered, but it wasn’t the worst she had seen by a long shot and a few pins and screws would have him back on the road to recovery. Rolling her neck, Callie picked up the scalpel and made the first incision, praying to fall into the zone and be oblivious to the brown eyes boring into her from across the table.

The phone trilled in the corner and one of the nurses answered it. When she hung up, she said, "Nine fatalities. And we’re busting our asses to save the guy who caused it."

Callie glanced at Mark, who nodded at her and said, "Our fearless Speedracer here decided to impress his girlfriend by racing another buddy of theirs on the highway. His girlfriend died at the scene."

Beside Callie, the anesthesiologist made a disgusted noise. "I say I wake him up and let him *feel* what he’s done."

"He’s a patient," Callie said, clamping the incision she had made open and cleaning the area with water. "Right now he’s just a patient. He can be demonized when he wakes up."

"Don’t mind her," Alex said, his eyes narrowed over his mask. "She’s got a soft spot for reckless endangerment."

Anger caused her cheeks to flush and Callie was glad that she was hidden behind the mask. "That’s about all I have a soft spot for right now."

"Oooooh," said the nurse who had answered the phone. "Trouble for our resident newlyweds?"

"Our only trouble is that one of us is an idiot," Alex replied. "And it’s not me."

"That’s enough," Mark interjected, when Callie dropped an entire container of sterile screws in the floor. "Cal, do you need a minute?"

"No." She accepted a screw from a new box loaded it into her drill. "What I need is my head examined for marrying someone who can’t be professional."

"Says the woman," Alex growled, "who doesn’t know if she’s a pilot or a doctor."

"Don’t be jealous, Jock Strap, just because I have many talents and you have *one*."

"Oh, and what’s that?" he asked.

"Letting *fear* dictate your life." Callie put the first screw in place and glanced back at the nurse who had teased them. "Our honeymoon? He refused to bungee jump, drive the Autobahn, or go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I mean, we should have just stayed in the states and saved our money."

There were several snickers and Alex shifted uncomfortably. "It’s not my fault that you didn’t get the memo about honeymooners and sex. I may have a fear of heights, but Torres here has a fear of -"

"Did I not say that’s enough!?" Mark shouted suddenly, causing everyone to jump. "Alex, get out. Go."

"My pleasure!" Alex yelled, stepping away and yanking his surgical scrubs off. "I’ve got to go pack anyway."

*~*~*~*~

Alex did pack. By the time Callie got home, all of his drawers were hanging open and from the looks of the hangers in the floor, he had yanked his clothing from them. As hard as it was to see that his closet was mostly empty, the absolute worst thing in their bedroom was a photo of them, from their trip to Alcatraz, that he had broken out of the frame and ripped down the middle. That was left on her pillow.

And his wedding band was lying between the two pieces.

Instead of crying, she demolished the rest of the room and headed out to the garage, passing Leon and Irene who waved at her. She didn’t wave back. Instead, she got into her car and sped off, not looking in the rearview mirror. She drove aimlessly for close to an hour. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten all day. With a sigh, she headed into town and parked at a steakhouse. Inside, she scanned the menu absently before she placed her order.

She was contemplating calling Alex when her waitress approached carrying a mixed drink. "A gift. From the gentleman at the bar."

Callie let her leave it and nodded at the man, who lifted his own drink in response. She had never seen him before and she left it at a simple nod of gratitude. The last thing she needed was him thinking she was encouraging him. Instead, she gazed at the drink and hated the way her mouth watered as she grabbed the napkin and tugged it forward. What she should have done was send it back and call Marcel, the meeting leader at Alcoholics Anonymous. She could have called Chief Webber, too, but what Callie Karev did was bring it to her mouth and drink deep. It was gin and tonic, one of her favorites, and it burned all the way into her stomach.

The things she had learned in AA seemed to go right out the window and she fleetingly thought that she’d be giving back her sobriety chips. If she even went back. As she finished off the drink, she was tempted to call Marcel and tell him that AA didn’t really work and she wouldn’t be wasting her time anymore. Then she thought of her liver and the damage she already had from almost dying the previous year from alcohol poisoning ... so she raised her hand and ordered another. Because it just made sense that if she was going to do it again ... she’d do it right. And all the way.

"Hey, Callie O’Malley Karev." Sydney Heron, who was carrying two shot glasses, slumped into the booth across from her. She had obviously been crying as much as Callie had. "Life? Sucks."

"Tell me about it," Callie replied. "What’s wrong with you?"

"I wanted to be Chief Resident. I wanted it really, really bad," Sydney tipped the first glass, then the second. "And now that I’ve got it ... I would give it right back. I live at the hospital. I do. I stay there. People say home is where your heart is, but I don’t think so. My heart’s not in the hospital anymore. It’s paperwork and schedules and I’m not learning anything except how to be a secretary. No surgeries for me."

Callie made a face at her when she belched. The woman was clearly drunk and she talked more in that state, if that were even possible. Dr. Heron’s shirt was inside out and her hair was oily, slicked back in curly ponytail. "You could resign," Callie said.

"Oh, I don’t quit. Quitters are shitters." Sydney said matter of factly, then buried her face in her hands and started to sob. "It needs to quit me."

"Okay, Brokeback Mountain," Callie put a hand on her arm. "Breathe."

"What about you? I heard your marriage is already over. Did Alex really move out?" Sydney asked as she pulled a mound of tissue from the metal holder. She noisily blew her nose, apologizing profusely as she did so. "Well?"

"Apparently."

Sydney laughed. It was a miserable, wasted sound. "I hate my job and you’re unlovable. What a pair we make."

Callie’s drink arrived and she downed half of it, feeling the burn. "Did you order food yet?"

"Yeah," Sydney nodded, then hiccupped. She watched Callie for a moment, then cried out, pointing at the glass in her hand. "You’re not supposed to be drinking!"

"Neither are you. You’re still on duty." Callie watched as the bartender carried a plate of food toward them. She set it in front of Sydney and patted her on the arm in a familiar way that made Callie think that the other woman visited the bar frequently. before she walked away. Callie’s own food arrived as the bartender walked off and she wrinkled her nose. The liquor had filled the empty spaces in her belly. "Here’s how it’s going to work, Syd. You’re not telling anyone what you saw tonight. And neither am I."

"What did I see?"

"Exactly." Callie cut her steak to give herself something to do. "And I’m not unlovable."

"You’re right. You’re Mrs. Lovely and I’m too drunk to enjoy this crap. Food has no joy anymore. Do you know that some tribes in Africa enjoy food during sex? They literally eat while they're fornicating because then all of the senses are involved and it's better." Sydney bit into her chicken, tears still coursing down her face. "Of course, I haven't had sex in over a year so if I tried to eat during it I'd choke to death. Do you want to walk back to the hospital and camp out with me tonight? You shouldn’t drive and I shouldn’t be alone. This is my cry for help."

"You’re not drunken lesbian are you?" Callie watched her with a raised brow. "Because I can’t handle that tonight. Or any night."

"I’m not a lesbian, drunk or sober. I’m just a miserable human being who wants another miserable human being to hang out for a while."

"I’m in," Callie replied, pushing her plate away.


They did two more shots before they headed across the road to the hospital.

Callie kicked off her shoes and climbed into the top bunk while Sydney took the bottom. She fleetingly thought that she’d need to leave tomorrow at lunch to make sure Fratelli, her ferret, had plenty of fresh food and water, and then the alcohol sent her into a deep, peaceful oblivion that she welcomed.

And vowed to do again as soon as possible.

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie wasn’t hungover. Not really. The headache was bearable, but she felt a million times better once she stole a toothbrush and paste from a welcome kit and showered. In the harsh light of day, her decision to drink felt like the worst thing she had ever done in her life. She was torn between confessing to Chief Webber and cutting out early to indulge again. She did neither. Instead, she dutifully headed to the morning meeting and leaned back against the wall with her eyes closed as Sydney rambled off the day’s agenda.

Callie spotted Alex as the meeting broke up and hurried from the room. Guilt prevented her from looking him in the eye ... looking anyone in the eye. She had made a horrible, horrible mistake. Addison waved at her from the end of the hallway and she rushed forward. "Addison, I need to -"

"The dresses are in today. What time are you getting off?"

"Uhm, six?" Callie replied. "Can we talk? I need -"

"I can’t right now." Addison shook her head. "I’m sorry. I’ve got to go do a consult."

"How about lunch?"

Addison made a face. "I can’t do that either. I’m going to be tasting the final menu at the caterer’s place. You - you can come if you want."

"Nah, it’s okay."

"Seeya later"

Instead of heading to the pit to look for a patient to help, Callie headed into the chapel and lit a candle. There were no prayers, however. She was beyond prayer, beyond divine intervention. Addison *had* to know that Alex had left her. Mark had been in the same surgery where Alex announced it and she hadn’t called, hadn’t asked. Callie had never felt so alone in her life.

Her cell phone trilled in her pocket and she pulled it out, checking the phone number. He knew. He always knew. "Hey, Cambyses."

Her brother breathed a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Don’t lie to me," Cam told her. "Any time I feel this way, my twin sister is either miserable or about to almost die."

"Maybe you have indigestion," she suggested. "It happens."

"Talk to me."

"I am talking to you."

"Where were you last night? I called your house until two in the morning. And I talked to Alex ... who wasn’t at your house, either."

"What did he say?" Callie asked curiously, trying to keep her tone light.

"He said that he hadn’t seen you. Why is that, Cal? Why would your *husband* not know where you are at two in the morning?"

Callie rubbed her eyes and lifted her legs into the pew. She fought hard not to cry, but it was no use. "He left me."

"WHAT!?"

"If you tell our parents ... I will kick your ass!"

"I can’t repeat it! It’s too traumatic for me to even think it!" Cam shot back. "What the hell happened!?"

Callie told him, omitting the part about the alcohol. "He overreacted, right?" she asked at the end of the tale.

"No, Cal, he didn’t. I’m sorry. You know I’m usually on your side, but having been in the stands when you do an air show, I know how it feels. And that’s with me having *months* to mentally prepare for it. It’s terrifying. You shouldn’t have kept it from him. Hell, I can’t marry Blake because of our homophobic government, but even *I* know that the most important part of marriage is communication. And honesty. Did he LEAVE leave?"

"He LEFT left. He took all of his clothes and left his ring."

"Where did you stay last night?"

"In the on call room."

"Why?" Cam asked suspiciously.

"Because, Cam, I’ve been married for *four* months and I’m already estranged! It’s a little hard to sleep in our house!"

"Are you okay? Do you need me to fly out?"

"No. To both."

"Do you want me to call him and threaten him?"

"No to that, too. He’s not George. He doesn’t take that crap seriously," Callie replied. "Listen, I should go. I have to go pretend to work before I get caught doing nothing."

"Can you call me tonight? I’m worried about you," Cam said. "We’ll all be there for Addy’s wedding, by the way. Even Stavros and Loukas are coming."

"Great. Now mom and dad will know that I can’t keep a husband and -"

"It’s a fight. He’s not gone for good. I’ll talk to you later?"

"I’ll call you. I promise."

"You better. Love you, Cal."

"Love ya back."

Callie closed the phone and pulled her knees up, leaning her forehead against them.

If anyone ever found out about the alcohol, there would be hell to pay. The previous year, she had purposely given herself alcohol poisoning and almost died. Her liver had held up well, too well, but after months of being fine, she was hospitalized for pancreatitis and a liver infection that had turned her bright yellow and kept her flat on her back for almost a week. Even now, she had to have her blood taken every two weeks to make sure her liver was functioning normally. And she had taken all the correct steps, gone to AA with Richard, earned her chips, and swore that she would never drink again ... and just like that ... she had blown it. After *one* stupid fight.

It terrified her to think about what could -

"Hey," Alex said, interrupting her thoughts. "Where did you go last night?"

She looked up at him. He was standing at the end of the pew with his arms over his chest and she shrugged. "Where did *you* go last night?"

"I’m staying on Goon Docks. With my mother. I went to the house after Cam woke me up and you weren’t there." He sat down on the end of the bench. "You fucked up the bedroom."

"You fucked up our life," she accused.

"No, no I didn’t. *You* fucked up our life." He watched her for a few seconds. "So, where were you?"

"Here."

"Here?"

"I slept in the on call room."

"Why?"

"Because I felt like it," she sighed. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to know where you were. Now I do." He pushed himself to his feet and turned away, then glanced back toward her. "I took the ferret last night. To the yacht. You didn’t bother feeding him. So much for your many talents."

"You’re living with your *mother*. So much for yours."

Without another word, Alex stormed out of the chapel.

Callie didn’t mention the alcohol to anyone.

She also didn’t go to AA, even though Chief Webber reminded her about the lunchtime meeting.

*~*~*~*~*

"What the hell is Montgomery thinking?" Cristina said, turning side to side in the mirror.

"Is it the color or the cut?" Meredith asked, stepping onto the platform beside Yang. She got a good look at herself and grimaced. "Never mind. It’s both."

Callie came out of her dressing room and lifted her skirt as she stepped up beside the other two women. Her maid of honor dress was moderately better, but it was still uncomfortable and far too chiffon for her liking. "We look like shit stains."

"We look like frappucinos. Caramel ones," Meredith corrected. "It’s weird enough to be a bridesmaid for my fiance’s ex-wife, I can’t do it looking like this. There are ruffles at my *throat*."

"And bows on our asses." Callie turned and examined her backside. "This sucks. I was very specific about ass bows."

Addison pushed open the curtain and clasped her hands together as she gazed at her wedding party. "You guys look AMAZING!"

"Don’t you usually wear glasses for the important stuff?" Cristina asked. "Cause here’s where you need them."

"You don’t like the dresses?" Addison asked, her face falling. "I’ve spent *weeks* finding the perfect ... you really hate it? You hate it!!"

"Oh Jesus," Callie said, rolling her eyes. "They’re fine. We love ‘em."

Cristina coughed and said, "Bullshit" as she did so.

"How can you hate Versace?!" Addison cried, reaching out to adjust the frilly bow on Callie’s ass. "It’s *Versace*."

"It’s a tent," Meredith said, pulling the sides of her dress out. "Now it looks like wings. Give me some wire and I can pretend to be Tinkerbell going down the aisle."

"Tinkerbell wore green. Not light shit," Cristina said.

"Damn it!" Addison sat down in a chair beside the entrance and put her face in her hands. She did it so that they couldn’t see the smile on her face and not because she was upset. A moment later, the store clerk breezed through the curtain with three black bags. She put one in each of the dressing rooms that had been vacated by the wedding party. When Addison looked up again, she was fighting hard not to laugh. She looked at Callie and said, "Thanks for comforting me, Maid of Honor."

Callie watched curiously as the clerk winked at Addison, then she put her hands on her hips. "You asshole! Those are the real dresses, right?"

She started to step off the platform, but Addison held up her hand. "Wait."

And then Mark appeared and started snapping photos that caused all three women to gather their hideous skirts and rush back into their rooms. When they emerged a few moments later, they were much happier and didn’t grumble at all about posing for photos. The dresses Addison had chosen were strapless, with trumpet skirts and a A-line cut. A dark brown sash fit around the waist and pinned in the back to create not a bow, but a gorgeous tie that hung almost the floor. It was definitely the kind of dress you could wear again.

"CALLIE!" Addison scolded as Callie adjusted the loose top of her dress. "What did I tell you? I said do not lose any weight. None."

With a grimace, Callie tried in vain to make her chest bigger. She stretched and pushed, but it was no use. Cristina poked her in the rib and said, "It was all that G-force against your tits in the airshow, right?"

"No." Callie shook her head. "It was all the exercise leading up to the air show so that my lungs could take it."

"I could strangle you," Addison replied, opening the curtain and calling for the clerk.

The two women pinned Callie’s dress and then took new measurements. By the time all was said and done, Addison had threatened Callie within an inch of her life. She was to lose no more weight or she’d be murdered, her friend promised. After she got dressed, Callie joined the other women. Addison and Meredith were both trying on veils, so Callie flopped down beside Cristina, who wore a matching look of disgust. "This sucks," Yang said softly. "As soon as we get Addison down the aisle, it’s Meredith’s turn."

"At least she’s waiting a while longer," Callie watched Addison twist her hair and gaze at the peacock inspired veil on her head. "Cristina?"

"Hmm?"

"She hasn’t even asked me about Alex."

"What’s there to ask? We all know." Cristina stretched her legs out and crossed her ankles. "And we all told you to tell him so maybe we’re a little pissed that you didn’t. And a lot pissed that you put us in a situation where he’s not just mad at you ... he’s mad at us, too."

"I didn’t think it would be this bad," Callie replied. "I thought he’d get upset and then get over it."

"Just like that?" Cristina asked. "You thought he'd ignore how easily you could been killed and-"

"Everything was fine! Everything! I was careful and -"

"Careful?" Cristina raised a skeptical brow. "Careful is flying from point A to point B in as much of a straight line as possible. Not careful? Rolling and flipping and going upside down from point A to point B."

"It was an *air show*. There is no point A to point B. If that was the case, you’d be bored. I’m a good pilot. I know what I’m doing."

"You’re a great pilot," Cristina agreed. "Maybe you should marry the air because neither one of you can be tamed. What’s that old saying? Wild as the wind? That’s you. You wanted the shackles, but you don’t want Alex to lock them. You wanted the ball and chain, but only when it’s convenient."

"That’s not true!"

"You know what you’re like? You’re this storm cloud that’s so calm and then bam! It’s like something happens inside you and you’re destructive. You don’t just self destruct, you throw a funnel cloud that quickly becomes a tornado and you spin out of control for a little while. And just like a tornado, you shake people up." Cristina glanced at her. "And you make storm chasers out of your friends who can’t stop you ... so we just watch."

"Cristina-"

"In the George mess ... I was Team Callie. In the Izzie mess ... I was Team Callie. Now? I’m Team Alex because I was on the ground beside him while you were playing Top Gun and I saw how it hit him." With that, Cristina got to her feet and the fact that she actually put a veil on proved that Callie’s company truly was the worst than *that*.

*~*~*~*~*~

The days leading up to Addy’s wedding were tense. Alex, who was still staying on Goon Docks, would either pick a fight or ignore Callie every time she was within earshot. Their friends would simply walk away when he chose to go for the jugular and say something horrible, which he did frequently. Callie finally talked to Sydney and went on night shift to avoid Alex completely. And Irene. Her mother in law attempted to talk to her every time she saw her and Callie was polite. She’d discuss the weather or the food that Irene churned out in the kitchen, but she refused to talk about Alex at all.

George and Izzie were also working the night rotation and they both went out of their way to be there for Callie. Izzie brought extra food every night for dinner and insisted that Callie share it and George made sure he told her a joke or tried to make her laugh every time he passed her in the hallway. Ever since Izzie had joined the Angry Woman Club, she had drifted more towards Callie than the other members. Callie knew that it was her way of making amends, of burying the hatchet, and she happily met the blond halfway, but she wasn’t close to her. She tolerated her. Izzie was still a symbol of her past and Callie wanted to forget her past. Still, she was grateful for the company as the nights seems to stretch for an eternity and Izzie’s sympathy appeared genuine.

Callie didn’t drink again. Sometimes, before her late shift started, she’d park in front of the liquor store and stare at the bottles, but she didn’t drink. Oh, she wanted to. She needed to, but she swallowed back the longing and always started her engine and headed back into the road empty handed. Callie worked on her off days and slept as long as she could during the day, thanks to a prescription of Ambien that Sydney gave her when Callie complained about having trouble adjusting to the night shift.

The day before Addison’s wedding, Callie was changing into her street clothes in the locker room when the morning crew came in. She sat in the corner, hidden by a row of lockers as she heard Alex laughing at something Meredith said. Addison, who usually dressed in the Attending’s lounge, sailed around the corner and glared at Callie. "Are you going to be there tomorrow or what?" Addison snapped.

"At the wedding?"

"At the wedding! You haven’t returned any of my phone calls. You didn’t pick your dress up and you didn’t come to the florist to help me pick the final arrangement for your bouquet like you promised, either. So, I’m asking. Are you going to be in the wedding or not?"

"Of course I am," Callie replied. "And - I don’t know where my phone is so I didn’t get your messages. And ... all my appointments were programmed in there so I - I forgot."

"I’m an appointment now?" Addy shook her head. "Tonight’s the bachelorette party. *Meredith* planned it because you weren’t around to do it and I just saw your name on the schedule to work tonight! How can you work all night and then be in the wedding party tomorrow!?"

"It’ll be fine."

"Callie, you haven’t done *anything* to help me lately. I never see you and -"

"Hello, night shift?" Callie got to her feet, glaring at her friend. "And you haven’t done anything to help me either."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I think you fuckin’ know!" Callie shouted.

"Guys!" Meredith said, moving between the two of them. "What the hell?"

Saying nothing, Addison turned on her very high heel and stalked out of the room. Callie snatched her purse from her locker, tears blurring her vision. She slammed the door so hard that it shook the entire row of lockers and then Meredith caught her arm before she could leave. "Are you okay?" Mer asked.

"Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Callie-"

But Callie walked away, past Cristina who said her name and past Alex, who said nothing at all.

She left a message for Sydney, telling her that she wouldn’t be in that night. She was supposed to be off anyway, she had simply volunteered to keep herself busy, to keep herself away from the ever present lure of alcohol, but she didn’t give a damn anymore.

Callie simply didn’t *care*.

*~*~*~*~*~

"I just don’t *get* her." Addison paced the length of the on call room and retrieved her skirt from the window ledge, where Mark had thrown it. She slipped it over her thong panties and zipped it, then slipped her feet into her heels.

"This is the part where we bask in the afterglow of morning sex, baby," Mark replied, watching her appreciatively as she slipped her bra on and fastened it. "It’s bad enough that you were thinking about Callie the entire time I was screwing you half to death ... can you -"

"I was not," she replied, smiling at him, "because I was too busy thinking about that thing you were doing with your fingers and hoping you do it again in Hawaii tomorrow night."

"Oh, I’m doing things to you in Hawaii that would make Jenna Jameson blush."

"Mmmm." She leaned down and kissed him, cupping his face. "I’m happy, Mark. I’m really, really happy that we’re getting married tomorrow and I’m even happier that we waited to do it. Because it’s going to be perfect."

Mark pulled her down on top of him and settled his hands on her hips. "It better be perfect. You’ve been a head case for months over this day."

Addison laughed. "I really have, haven’t I?"

"You gave new meaning to the word ‘shrew’. And you’ve proven that your temper matches your hair with the caterer, the limo driver, the DJ, the minister, and now your best friend."

"My *absent* best friend. She didn’t even show up for the rehearsal dinner."

"We didn’t have a rehearsal dinner," Mark replied. "We had a *dinner*."

"Still -"

"Addison, she’s going through hell. All you have to do is look at her to see that she’s miserable." He pushed her hair back and kissed her neck. "At the non-rehearsal dinner that Callie didn’t come to ... you guys made it very clear to Alex that he’s in the right and she’s wrong and you guys have no sympathy for her. She can probably pick up on that and that’s why she’s *absent*."

"And you think we’re wrong?"

"I think it’s been close to three weeks since the air show and Alex is treating her bad enough for everyone. I think that you need to remember that this is Callie we’re talking about. The same Callie who almost died from alcohol poisoning when her last marriage imploded. She hurts a little harder than most people and there’s pressure on her right now from all sides. So-"

"You don’t think she would ... Mark!"

"I don’t know," he replied, rubbing her back. "If history is doomed to repeat itself, though, I think she’s at the breaking point. I saw her before she left today. I tried to talk to her and she didn’t look right."

"I’ll call her." Addison grabbed her white lab coat from the floor and pulled her cell phone from the pocket. She dialed Callie’s number, then groaned when it went to voice mail. "Damn! She told me she can’t find her phone. Hey, Callie, it’s me. I’m an ass and I’m sorry."

"If she lost her phone, why did you leave a message?" Mark asked.

"Because it made me feel a little better."

Mark sat up and unbuttoned her shirt. "Let me make you feel a lot better. Because I’m sleeping at Derek’s tonight so I don’t see you tomorrow before the wedding and ... I need to make up for lost time now."

Addison kicked her shoes off again. "Why did you let me get dressed?"

"Your ass in a thong?"

Within minutes, Addy forgot all about her problems with Callie. She lost herself in her fiancé and didn’t think of anything except the moment.

*~*~*~*~
CH 2
*~*~*~*~

"Will this be all, ma’am?"

Callie looked at the bottle of bourbon that the woman behind the counter was ringing up. After sitting in front of the liquor store for five hours, waiting for it to open, Callie almost felt like the one bottle was a disappointment. She felt herself nod, then paid for it in cash, clutching the long neck in her hand as she headed back to her car. Callie laid it on the passenger seat, gripping the steering wheel as she gazed at the front of the store again. Her mouth had started to water and she kept swallowing, kept licking her lips. She wanted the burn, the oblivion.

The bottle wasn’t silent. It called to her, beckoned her, promised her that it could erase the pain, fill the emptiness, and make her feel better. Like a fool, she believed it could. At least for a while. She could black out and not hurt, not be angry, not be lonely. She needed to believe in something, after all, because there was nothing left to believe in as far as she could see.

Closing her eyes, she put her hands over her ears in an attempt to silence the hollow voice in her head that was begging her to drink. There were always big moments in life. Moments fill with crossroads and crosshairs. She felt like there was a target on her back and the bottle was the bullet that would rip through her center and demolish everything. With a look of determination, she picked the bourbon up and got out of the car, opening her trunk with the key fob. She tossed the bottle into it and slammed the, gazing down at her hand, which was shaking.

Her parents always told her that the past happened so you could learn from it. History books were full of fatal mistakes that were often repeated for the sake of growth and superiority. As Callie leaned against her car, she knew that she could either be superior or *inferior* to the sickness that she finally acknowledged with all of her heart. Alcoholism was a disease and an uphill climb and if this wasn't alcoholism, she didn't know what was. She had been on top of the mountain for over a year now and she was currently sliding toward the bottom again on her stomach, letting the roots and rocks and debris tear her apart. No, she realized, she had bottomed out when she drank with Sydney. Now she was being ripped apart by the need to do it again.

And she couldn’t let that happen.

Hurrying into her car, she started the engine, fastened her seatbelt, and headed across town. She parked at the end of a crowded lot and retrieved the bottle, then headed into the church where today’s AA meeting was being held. Chief Webber was enjoying a cucumber sandwich while he spoke with Marcel and he smiled when he saw her. The smile quickly faded when he saw the tell tale brown bag in her hand. The meeting had just adjourned for the day, but as always there were several small cloisters of people remaining to offer that last bit of comfort and support to their fellow warriors. Webber nudged Marcel, the leader of the group, and pointed at Callie. Wordlessly, Marcel strode forward and took the bag from her hand.

"Come with us," Marcel said softly, whispering the words against Callie’s ear.

She nodded and let the man lead her, and Chief Webber, into the church’s small kitchen. Chief Webber wrapped a protective arm around her as Marcel lifted the bottle from the bag and opened it. His movements weren’t angry, weren’t tense, but when he held the bottle out to her, his face was set. "Drink it or pour it down the sink."

"You - you can pour it - and -" Callie began.

"No," Marcel took a step closer to her, lifting the bottle high enough that she could smell it. "This is your fight, Callie. We can’t do it for you."

"Take it," Webber urged. "Make your decision."

Callie felt bereft with the Chief moved away from her, leaving her exposed, leaving her *alone*. She gripped the bottle with both hands, hoping that they would cross cancel each other and not shake quite so badly. She was wrong. Some of the bourbon slipped over her hand and she was tempted to lick it off, tempted to tip the bottle back in front of God and everybody. After all, she was in HIS house and HE was not making the battle any easier.

Her eyes strayed to the sink then back to the bottle in her hands. Tears streamed down her face as her gaze met Chief Webber’s. "I’ve fallen off the wagon already. Hard. I had gin and tonic and several shots of ... something ... and if I drink this now ... it won’t really matter because the damage is done. I’m back at square one and -"

"Still in the game," Richard said, not letting any disappointment show on his face. "You’re back at square one, but you’re not off the board. You’re here. You made a bad decision when you drank again, but you made a right one now. Pour it out, Callie."

"Richard." Marcel shook his head, his floppy blond hair falling into his eyes. "Don’t sway her." Looking at Callie, he added, "The choice is yours."

She thought of Alex. She thought of the way her wedding band felt as it clanked against the bottle and imagined the look on her husband’s face if he could see her now. Then she thought of Cam, of her parents, of Addison ... and her decision was made. Her shoulders shook from the quiet sobs as she walked to the sink and tipped the bottle, watching the contents disappear down the drain. She held onto it until the last drop was gone, then she slipped it back into the brown bag and buried her face in her hands.

It was Webber who comforted her. He pulled her against his chest and spoke softly, telling her he was proud of her, that she was strong and *okay*. While the Chief clung to her, Marcel went into the other room and prepared a plate of food, then retrieved a bottle of water from the cooler. Back in the kitchen, he set it on the island, pulled out a barstool and looked at Callie. "Sit. Eat. Talk."

She did sit down. She mostly picked at the food, but she talked for close to an hour and it made all the difference in the world. Neither man judged her or interjected much, but that was okay, because neither left her hanging and neither told her off for her mistakes. They simply nodded and they *understood*.

Two hours later, she pulled on rubber wading boots and stared down at them. Richard handed her a fishing rod and the container of worms, which he offered to handle for her, but she shook her head, pulled out the plumpest, and put it on the hook. He was so impressed with her casting abilities that he watched her in silence for a few moments. "Did your father take you fishing?"

"My dad? Fishing? Not so much." Callie waded further into the river and turned her face toward the sky as a hawk flew overhead. "My *mother* took me fishing."

"Your mother is an impressive woman." Richard cast his own line and smiled at her. "You’re the spitting image of her. And just as strong."

"I don’t feel very strong," Callie replied. "My marriage is -"

"Don’t." Webber shook his head. "I happen to know for a fact that Alex misses you."

"Oh, how do you that?"

"Because he told me. This is off the record, Callie. Totally and completely off the record. I had to write him up a couple of days ago for getting in a patient’s face. I asked him what the hell was going on with him and he told me about you flying and about him leaving and he said that he misses you. He said that he wants to come home, but ... his pride keeps getting in the way."

"He said that?"

"I bet if you apologized ... everything would be just fine." He smiled at her. "Now, can you tell me something off the record?"

"Sure," she replied.

"Sydney Heron. How’s she doing?"

"The job or personally?"

"Both."

"She’s rocking the job. She’s got the schedules under control and she’s flexible and fair." Callie gazed out at the horizon, where the crisp fall air, even at three in the afternoon, had left a mist over the treeline. "Personally? I think maybe you should bring her along to an AA meeting."

"I’m certain I smelled alcohol on her breath the other day."

"I’m certain you did, too."

"And you didn’t feel I should know this before now?" he asked.

"I’m not that girl. I don’t tattle to Big Daddy. Everyone knows that I was in the running for Chief Resident and if something goes down ... I don’t want it to be because of me. I don’t want anyone thinking I tried to sabotage her." She shrugged. "But I think she’s ready to pass the title and the duties along to Bailey."

"Bailey? What makes you think I’d choose Bailey?"

"Well, I don’t want it." Callie shook her head vehemently. "I’m a newlywed and a mess. I only tossed my hat in the ring because I could. It’s Bailey’s job, Chief. She deserves it and she’s waited patiently for it."

"Dr. Bailey has a son. If I give this position to her then it will put her under the same strain that Dr. Heron is currently under. Miranda would be at the hospital from sun up until sun down and -"

"Then don’t count on one person to do it. Spread it out. Take half the responsibility from Sydney, give it to Bailey, and let them be joint Chiefs. If it works for the military ... it should work for them. You could even go a step further and choose a couple of second years to assume some of the lighter duties, too. You know people like Yang and Stevens would be all over that. O’Malley, too. He’s very organized." She reeled in her line and cast again. "You once told me that you started drinking while you were Chief Resident. Knowing what you know now ... it may be a good time to change how it’s done."

"A person with this much wisdom, Callie," he replied, "has nothing to worry about when it comes to addiction. You’re going to beat this disease and you’re going to be just fine."

"I don’t think Marcel was very happy about you deciding to be my sponsor."

"They usually like for a sponsor to be the same sex as the person they’ll be mentoring. They also don’t like for them to work together or see each other every day, but I think you need it. I think you need someone who can stay on top of it and be there any time you need them. And that’s me. I’m here."

"Thanks, Chief."

"I think you can call me Richard, Callie."

"Richard," Callie replied, grinning as she tugged her line. "I just caught the first fish of the day. So you’re cleaning it *and* cooking it."

"I shouldn’t have made that bet. I didn’t know you were so ... resourceful."

"You underestimated me because I’m a girl. Don’t do it again."

"Yes, ma’am."

*~*~*~*~*~

"YAY!" Addison cried, looking up from her fifth shot as Callie walked into Joe’s. It wasn’t much of a bachelorette party. Addy had a birthday hat on her head and the groom and his groomsmen were a few feet away playing darts, but the second she saw Callie, Addison felt festive and *happy*. She pulled her best friend into a tight hug, sloppily kissing her cheek. "I AM SO SORRY! I’M A SELF INVOLVED ASSHOLE AND YOU HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE PISSED AT ME!"

Callie didn’t have to wonder why Addison was yelling. Olivia, like always, was singing karaoke. This time, she was warbling her way through Mandy Moore’s ‘Candy’. Callie grimaced and let Meredith put a birthday cone on her head as she slipped her jacket off. Meredith catcalled and drunkenly poked Callie’s exposed cleavage. The black sleeveless shirt she wore tied behind her neck and plunged dangerously low between her breasts, where a triangle of sequins and faux diamonds drew all the attention. Her jeans were new, too, bought after the fishing trip with Webber because she wanted *something* to keep her mind busy and shopping usually did.

"Damn, woman," Cristina called. "We thought we weren’t getting strippers tonight."

"What have you been doing today?" Addison asked as Callie pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Fishing."

"Huh?"

"Fishing. Like, rods and reels and worms."

"Why? Ew." Addison wrinkled her nose.

"Why not?"

Burke sauntered over and picked up his beer, taking a swig. He greeted Callie warmly, then tipped Cristina’s chair back and asked for a good luck kiss. He had fifty bucks riding on the dart game, he explained. Cristina gave him a kiss that was both tawdry and brazen, then grinned when he sat her back up. "That is *so* Mark’s move," Addison told Yang as they watched Burke strut back to the game. "He did that same thing to me."

"Alex pioneered it," Izzie said, then seemed to catch herself and changed the subject fast by pointing at the door. "I - uh - are those strippers?"

Four men had come into the Emerald City Bar. All four wore trenchcoats and the tallest smiled at Callie, who pointed at Addison. "Consider them my party favors," Callie told her friend, who was staring at the approaching men with her jaw hanging open. Lifting her purse, Callie pulled out several stacks of dollar bills and one stack of twenties, which she pressed into Addison’s hand. "Just wait. Your mind will be blown."

Olivia had stopped singing now thanks to Joe, who had unplugged the karaoke machine and silenced the bar entirely. The bartender was salivating almost as much as the women. One of the strippers carried a boombox that he set on the table behind Addison. He pressed play and flicked his tongue out at her, offering her the tie to his robe, but Addison didn’t take it. She was still perpetually frozen in shock like a deer in headlights.

‘It’s Raining Men’ began to pulsate from the radio and Callie reached forward, tugging the belt for Addison, who gasped as the man let the coat fall to the ground, revealing just how well he filled the elephant trunk thong he wore. The dancers called themselves ‘The Skin Quartet’ and as they all dropped their jackets, no one had to wonder why. Never had there been so much exposed, buffed, and *perfect* skin in one spot. And dance? The men could dance like there was no tomorrow. The choreographed moves were as much Cirque du Soleil as trashy hip hop video. They did lifts, tumbles, and pelvic thrusts that caused their packages to bounce around so much that Cristina declared that she had gotten dizzy watching it.

Four songs later, their g-strings were full and Addison was dancing between them, laughing her ass off. Callie headed to the bar and fixed herself a glass of ice water when Joe decided to join the dancers. She sat down on a barstool and pulled out her camera, snapping a few photos because if she didn’t do something with her hands ... she was afraid her next drink would be something bottled and eighty proof. She was smiling when she noticed Alex heading her way. The smile faded and she started to get to her feet, but he caught her arm. "Hey," he said, his thumb absently rubbing her skin. "H- how are you?"

"Fine." She didn’t meet his gaze, instead she concentrated on the water in her hands. "You?"

"I’m okay." He sat down on the stool beside hers and watched her, waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he let her arm go, then touched it again when she yawned. "You hate the night shift. Dr. Heron said you requested it."

Still yawning, she nodded. "Yeah. I did."

"Why?"

"You didn’t just ask me why, Alex. Really?" She pointed at the beer in his hand. "Have you had so much that you can’t remember telling me the other day that the sight of me made you sick? Or how about when you said that Mark should think twice before getting married because marriage turns sane women into insane bitches who suck the life out of their husbands? Maybe the high point was you saying, in front of everyone, that I was a childish liar who wouldn't know the truth if it smacked me in the face."

He moved his hand off her arm and peeled the label on his beer. "I’m sorry."

"There’s a lot of that going around." She glanced at him, smiling sadly when he met her eyes.

Alex hated the coldness in her eyes. He'd never seen it before. "I talked to Cam today. He said he’s worried about you and that he had talked to you and you didn’t sound right."

"How right can I sound?"

"Callie-"

"You know what? I’m not going to fight with you today. I lied to you about the air show, but you lied to me too. Christmas night last year ... you lied to me. When you asked me to marry you, you said that the butterfly in my ring was there to remind me that I could fly ... and you’d never try to hold me down. You said that the circle meant that we’d never end ... but you had no problem taking your ring off and ending it."

"I was pissed. And if you had told me about the air show and let me have a chance to get used to the idea ... maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad."

"Yeah, it would have. You’re always going to be that guy who’s afraid to jump ... and I’m always going to be the girl who volunteers to do it first." She got to her feet, leaving the water and a five dollar bill on the bar. She looked at him again, briefly, and nodded. "Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow."

Addison did another shot, this one poured by one of the strippers. She looked up in time to see Callie gather her purse and jacket, then jumped to her feet and followed her out the front door. "You’re leaving?"

"I’m tired," Callie replied, hugging her. "I haven’t been to sleep yet so I’m off to dream about falling on my face or something when I walk down the aisle tomorrow."

"As long as you *only* dream it and don’t actually do it." Addison held onto her, not letting her go. "I love you, you know? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I just really love you."

"You’re going to be very sad that you got so damn drunk tonight when you wake up tomorrow, Addy." Callie stepped back and squeezed her hand. "Have fun."

"Wait."

Callie looked at her. "What is it?"

"You’re okay, right? I mean ... you’re not -"

"No. I’m not suicidal again."

"If you need me -"

"Go enjoy your party. Tomorrow's you big day."

Addison watched her walk away, a sense of foreboding in her stomach that she couldn’t quite explain. She remained rooted to the spot until Mark joined her and they both waved at Callie as she drove around the building and pointed her car toward home.

Mark wrapped his arms around her when she shivered. "Alex said he tried to apologize ... tried to make amends or whatever ... but she shot him down."

"Something’s wrong with her," Addison said. "I’m scared."

"Her family will be here in the morning. You know Melana and Raphael will smack the shit out of both of them and fix it themselves."

"I hope you’re right."

*~*~*~*~*~

Melana Torres was frazzled after attempting to sleep through enough turbulence to wake the dead the previous night. Their private jet had weathered the storm beautifully, but she was no so fortunate. The bags under her eyes were deep enough for Gucci, her service monkey, to fit in and worrisome enough to her husband Raphael that he kept running his thumb over them. She finally threatened to swat him like an annoying gnat and he had kept his hands to himself since them.

Instead of going straight to the guest room at Callie’s house, Melana headed into the kitchen to whip up breakfast for her family. Her sons, who were in various displays of laziness on the sofa and floor of the living room, were quickly sent scurrying to the market when she saw that Callie’s cupboard was bare and she marched down the hallway to her daughter’s bedroom with her hands on her hips.

Callie was lying sideways in the bed, both bare feet sticking out from one end of the cover and her hands out the other. Melana smiled and covered her feet, which were cold to the touch, then squatted down beside her hands and took one in her own. "Calliope?"

"Mmmph."

"Wake up and explain why you have no groceries."

"Mom!" Callie’s head shot up and she scrambled from the bed, knocking Melana flat on her ass as she hugged her.

Melana laughed and held onto her daughter, rubbing her hair, her face. "How are you, mi vida?"

"Alex left me," Callie said in response, then clapped a hand over her mouth as the smile faded from Melana’s face.

"Can you repeat that?"

"No. Because I'm sleepwalking. And sleeptalking, apparently."

"Calliope."

"I didn’t mean to just blurt it out." Callie got to her feet and extended her hands, pulling her mother to her own. "He’s been gone for about three weeks."

"Gone where?" Mel cried. "For Heaven’s sake, Calliope, you’ve only been married a few months! What could you possibly have done -"

"Oh, it’s my fault! Of course it is! Blame me for everything!" Callie sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Maybe it’s him!"

"Is it?" Mel asked, sitting beside her.

Callie shook her head. "Not *entirely*."

"Good morning, Mija," Raphael said, strolling into the bedroom and kissing Callie. He tilted her face and kissed her forehead, then frowned. "What’s wrong?"

"Alex has left her," Mel told him. "And she was just about to tell me what she did to cause it."

"What she did?" Raphael snapped. "Maybe it’s him! Maybe he-"

"Must you *always* take her side," Mel asked, rolling her eyes. "You’d think she was incapable of erring."

"Must you *always* assume the worst?" Raphael shot back. "You’d think she’s was incapable of doing anything right."

"Considering that she is half yours, I’m quite certain that she is just as capable as her father of making a total mess out of everything she touches." Mel glared at her husband. "You don’t want to piss me off again, Raph. Not today."

Callie looked back and forth between her parents. "What’s going on?"

"Minor disagreement." Raphael sat down on Callie’s other side and took her hand. "That’s all. We’re-"

"MINOR DISAGREEMENT!?" Melana bellowed, causing both her husband and her daughter to jump. "MINOR!? DON’T YOU DARE IMPLY THAT MY FEELINGS ARE MINOR!"

"DON’T YOU DARE IMPLY THAT IT’S ANYTHING MORE THAN THAT!" Raphael shot back.

"YOU ARE TRYING TO COME OUT OF RETIREMENT!"

"I MOST CERTAINLY AM NOT! I AM LENDING A HAND WHERE I’M NEEDED!"

"IT IS NOT YOUR HAND THAT CONCERNS ME, RAPHAEL!"

"STOP!" Callie yelled. She looked at her father and said, "They want you back in the -"

"Not back, baby," Raphael assured her. "They want me to go to Iraq and interrogate someone who they believe is involved with bin Laden and can give up the goods on his whereabouts."

"Which is a fancy way of saying that our government wants you to go to Iraq and torture someone." Callie looked at her mother, who nodded, then back at her father. "I don’t want you to go, either."

"Callie-"

"Daddy, that’s a warzone. Do you - they behead people over there! That’s like ... begging to be murdered! And you’re not a young man anymore. You can’t outrun an angry mob or fight off some crazy religious assholes who think of you as an infidel."

"Which is precisely the point that I made," Melana said, still glaring at her husband. "You *promised* me it was over, Raph, that you were done."

Raphael simply shook his head and squeezed Callie’s hand. "Why did Alex leave you, kitten?"

Callie told them and waited expectantly for them to agree with her. Melana, who looked as if holding her tongue was killing her, shot to her feet and stalked out of the room at the end of the tale. Raphael put an arm around Callie and pulled her against him. "That same thing that drives you to do an air show is what drives me to take down terrorists."

"It’s not the same thing, Daddy."

"You don’t think there’s just as much risk when you fly as there is of a ... crazy religious asshole ... who -"

"I’m trained to fly."

"I’m trained to fight. No matter how old I am." Raphael kissed her temple. "We’re both in the same boat, Mija. Flying is in your blood and fighting is in mine. We crave the adrenaline rush."

Callie sighed. "So, what do we do?"

"Did I ever tell you about the time I got shot?"

With a gasp, Callie’s spine straightened and she gazed at him in shock. "No."

"It’s why I retired. Your mother was seven months pregnant with Stavros. I was on an assignment in Germany and wound up getting most of my butt blown off." He smiled at her. "It was so bad that I spent weeks lying on my stomach while cute nurses kept the wound clean and put fresh bandages on."

Callie chuckled. "That sounds like hell."

"It wasn’t hell until your mom got there. I had been away from her for five months so I didn’t even know she was pregnant. It’s not like it is now. There was no email, no text messaging, and I was so far undercover that she didn’t know how to get in touch with me most of the time. She waddled into the infirmary, big as a barrel, and she was so pretty that I couldn’t stop looking at her. You know that look she gets right before she uses words like a whip."

Callie made a face and Raphael laughed. "Yeah, that’s the one. God, you’re so much like her. Anyway, she came up to the bed and she had her hands on that round, pregnant belly and she asked me if I was in any pain. I told her no. Wrong answer. She went *off* on me and made it very plain to me that for the two years we had been married she had been strong and let me go undercover. She said she had watched television through her hands every time news broke of something happening that had casualties anywhere in the world because she was afraid it was me.

"And then she pointed at the baby and said that she couldn’t let our baby grow up wondering the same thing. She told me I had a choice to make. I could stay in the line of work I was in and say goodbye to my family or I could come home and start a business and have the white picket fence." He took a deep breath and smiled at his daughter. "I chose home. And I’ve never regretted it because your mother rewarded me with four of the best children God ever put souls in and I never looked back."

"Until now?" Callie leaned her head against his shoulder again. "Because Mom was right. Those four kids don’t want to watch the television through their hands either, Daddy. Don’t go."

Raphael kissed the top of her head. "I wonder ... do you think Alex watched the air show that way? I certainly have, while you performed. I’ve actually gotten up and walked away in the middle of it because it scared me that bad. And that’s with me knowing what to expect ahead of time."

When Callie didn’t reply, Raphael pulled her a little closer. "I guess I won’t go, princess. As good as it would make this old daredevil feel to get back in the saddle ... I did make a promise to your mother. And I guess there comes a time when a person has to settle down and hang up their guns ... or wings. And the adrenaline rush ... well, I still get the best ones when she smiles at me."

Callie closed her eyes and Alex flitted through her mind. He gave her an adrenaline rush, too. When he smiled, when he laughed, when he said her name. "I have to grow up," she finally said. "I have to stop looking for cheap thrills and realize that the most thrilling thing in the world is that someone wants me. He wants forever. Or ... he did."

Melana sailed back into the room and waltzed around the bed, looking like she could bite a nail in two. "If you two have finished conspiring to give me a heart attack, breakfast will be ready soon and it would be very nice to have the family together for as long as we can ... you know ... until one of us heads into mortal danger and -"

"I’m not going," Raphael replied. "I’ll tell the officials after breakfast, Mel."

"You’re not going?" Mel wiped her hands on the apron she wore, her eyes wide. "Really?"

Getting to his feet, Raph nodded. "Really."

"OH! Thank God!" Melana threw her arms around her husband, unable to contain the tears of joy. She sobbed against his shoulder and said nothing else as Callie got to her feet and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. In a low, conspiratorial voice, Mel said, "She bought it?"

"Hook, line, and sinker. You should have been an actress," Raphael replied, kissing his wife’s neck. "I did tell her the truth about the way you forced me to retire, though."

"I could kick you in the ass every single time I see that scar."

Raphael puffed up importantly. "I told her it was a gun that did it."

"A gun?" Mel scoffed. "You should have told her the truth! You dropped your pants to use the bathroom and a rattlesnake took offense."

He simply looked at her. "That didn’t sound as dangerous."

"If she had seen the state your ass was in ... she’d think the snake was worse than a gun."

"What matters, dear," Raphael said through gritted teeth. "Is that our precious daughter has had an epiphany this morning. The words ‘I need to grow up’ actually escaped her mouth. Did you invite Alex and Irene to breakfast?"

"They’re already here. And no one knows that Addison already told us everything."

"Did you give Alex the speech about accepting my career because it was such a part of me?"

"He had an epiphany, too, my love." Melana grinned triumphantly. "The words ‘I really shouldn’t try to change her’ actually escaped his mouth."

"Let’s go eat."

"Calliope," Mel called. "Please put on something a little more suitable for breakfast."

"I will," Callie replied, her voice breaking over the words.

"She’s upset." Raphael started toward the door, but Mel stopped him.

"Go tell Alex. He’s out front with the boys."

A moment later, Alex walked past Melana in the hallway, who crossed her arms over her chest in a last minute bid to intimidate him. He headed into the bedroom, pausing to touch the photo he had ripped. It was lying, frameless, on the end table and Callie had taped the back of it. His ring wasn’t there, however, and he instinctively rubbed his left finger, which still had a tan line, though the indentation had already faded. He heard her sniffle behind the door and knocked lightly. "Open the door, Gothika."

"Just a second."

Alex tried the knob and found it unlocked. He stepped inside and saw her sitting on the edge of the tub with her face in her hands. His heart broke a little more, which he thought was impossible after watching her walk away the previous night. Wordlessly, he kneeled down and hugged her, then breathed a sigh of relief when she hugged him back, burying her face against his neck. "It’s okay, baby."

"No, it’s not," she sobbed, clinging to him. "You were right. I’m an idiot."

"You’re not an idiot. And I did promise you that I wouldn’t try to stop you from flying. I knew exactly who you were when I married you, Cal, and I wouldn’t change you if I could." He leaned back and kissed her forehead. "That lack of a fear gene thing? It’s sexy as hell."

"I miss you."

"God, I miss you, too." He rubbed his hand over her cheek. "I wanted to tell you all this last night. I wanted to apologize and make it right, but ... Callie, it was like you looked right through me and I know - I know I deserve it, but I don’t think I can handle you ever looking at me like that again."

"I don’t think I can handle you leaving me again. I believed you, you know, when you said you’d never do that. This is the third time now that you’ve broken your promise and packed your things and *left*. That’s worse than what I did."

"It is worse," he replied. "For both of us. And I won’t do it again, Callie. I won’t. I swear to God, if you’ll let me come home ... you’ll need a crowbar or something to get me out of here."

"I didn’t buy the stunt plane," Callie told him. "And - and I’m gonna sell the jet. We can fly commercial and -"

"Absolutely not," he replied. "You were born to fly and I was born to love you while you do it. Just ... tell me ... from now on."

"Okay," she hugged him again. "One more thing, Alex."

"What?"

"The things you said to me," she began.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Any of it."

"I know. I know you said it in anger, but it hurt." Callie gazed into his eyes. "I’d rather you hit me. Bruises ... they go away."

"No, baby, they don’t." He swiped at a tear that dropped onto his cheek and kissed her. Nothing else on earth could have ripped his heart in two any faster than those words. "I told you I’d never hurt you and I meant it."

"But you did."

"If you give me another chance -"

Leaning down, she silenced him with a kiss. "Come home. I want you to come home."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She pushed herself to her feet and held out her hand, pulling him to his. "I guess we should -"

"Where’s my ring?"

She studied him. "It’s somewhere safe."

"Well, give it back."

"I don’t know." Fighting hard not to laugh at the expression on his face, she hastily added, "I mean ... a guy that just takes it off and doesn’t value it ... why would I -"

"Callie-" The warning in his voice was unmistakable.

"If you can find it, you can have it."

"Find it?"

She nodded and he quickly walked back into their bedroom, opening the Italian jewelry box he had purchased for her on their honeymoon. "Cold," she said, leaning against the door jamb.

Alex moved to his end table and pulled open the drawer.

"Colder."

Smiling now, he opened his closet door and looked at her. She shook her head and he walked to where she stood. "Can I have a hint?"

"Hot."

He glanced down at the tank top she wore, noting the slight bulge between her breasts. He reached up and pulled the chain out, looking into her eyes after he saw his ring resting beside the diamond that Cam had given her for Christmas the previous year. It touched him, seeing it there, knowing that she had kept it next to her heart. Wordlessly, he put his hand behind her head and kissed her. A second later, she opened the clasp on the back of the chain and let the ring drop into his palm.

It was warm and he started to slip it on, but she shook her head, taking it back.

And just like she had done nearly five months ago, she slid it onto his finger and smiled at him through tears.

And just like he had done almost five months ago ... Alex fell a little harder than he ever thought he could.

Crushing her mouth with his, he felt her hands go to his belt and he did his best to help her without pulling away. She was raking her nails under his shirt when Melana knocked on the door. "Oh, children? Did I or did I not say that breakfast was ready?"

"Fuck," Callie said, looking heavenward. "Perfect timing as usual, Mother!"

"You know it. Now get your asses downstairs before I lose *my* temper. We have a wedding to get to!"

"Hold that thought," Callie said to Alex, handing him his belt. "Maybe we can do it in the *cemetery*."

Melana shrieked in the other room. "I heard that, you blasphemous heathen! Dear God in Heaven, please don’t smite her when she’s finally *growing up*."

*~

After a huge breakfast that Irene and Melana prepared together, Callie headed to the shower and dressed in sweats for the ride to the church. Alex had left the moment he had finished eating, saying that he needed to go help Mark and he had pulled Callie into the garage to ask her if everything really was okay between them. She assured him it was, kissed him goodbye, and then drove her mother toward the church in time to get a frantic call from Addison, telling her that she had already washed her hair twice and was so hungover she needed Tylenol. Callie dutifully stopped at the store for it and tried to warn her mother that Addison Montgomery had become Addison the Witch. Bridezilla, indeed.

Melana was skeptical that the red head could be *that* bad until they walked into the bridal suite of the church and found Addison lying face down on the floor sobbing her eyes out. "I lost my *last* contact," she wailed when she saw Callie.

Callie scanned the floor, then bent over and picked up the contact, which was actually stuck to the back of her friend’s hand. "Tylenol, water, and chocolate. My work is done."

Addison leaped to her feet to hug Callie, but she tripped over her wedding shoes, which been left in the middle of the floor and landed on her knees just shy of Callie. "I hate my life!"

Callie was helping the other woman stand when Addison realized Melana was there. She screamed and darted forward, catching the hem of her flounce slip underfoot. There was the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing and Addison stopped moving at all. She stared at Melana with tears in her eyes. "This is why I wanted to elope. Look at my hair. Look at me!"

Melana hugged Addison close, rubbing her back, which was bare since Addy only had on her slip, bra, and stockings. "Sit down, sweetheart." Leading her surrogate daughter to the bed, Melana opened her purse. "I can fix it."

"Really?" Addison stared, wide eyed, as Melana pulled a small sewing compact from her purse. As Melana lifted the torn hem into her lap, Addy burst into full blow hysterics.

Callie shot her mother a knowing look. "What’s wrong now, Ads?"

"I can’t get married," Addison wailed. "After marriage comes kids and I don’t know how to sew. Or cook. Or *anything*."

Melana threaded the needle swiftly, despite her perfectly manicured nails. "You learn those things as you go, honey. I was seventeen years old when I married Raphael and nineteen when we had Stavros. It’s true what they say ... instinct kicks in and you just *know*."

Addison wiped her eyes, sniffling. "I’m a wreck."

"Everyone’s a wreck on their wedding day." Mel told her. "It’s a requirement."

"Callie wasn’t." Addy eyed her best friend, who was lounging comfortably while she watched their exchange.

Mel snorted. "That’s because all she had to do was show up. I already had it planned. She had no stress."

"Wrong," Callie corrected, unwrapping a Hershey bar and breaking off a piece. "I was just so used to stress by that point, you know, from almost dying, then almost dying again and getting divorced and engaged and ... happy ... that nothing could possibly bother me anymore."

"How are you today?" Addison asked, holding her hand out for one of the squares.

Callie obliged, sharing her candy, then shrugged. "I’m good."

"Have you talked to Alex? He was going to go after you last night, but we wouldn’t let him drive."

"I did talk to him," Callie replied, narrowing her eyes at her mother. "But *only* talked. It would have been more, but my mother seems to sense when nakedness is afoot and puts a stop to it."

"You make up with your words, not your body," Mel replied, rapidly sewing. "Unless you have no guests in your house. Which you do."

"Wait," Addison cried. "You’re back together?"

"He’s wearing his ring. So... I hope."

Without thinking, Addy hurled herself toward Callie, hugging her.

The hole in the slip doubled in size.

Melana pulled a huge needle from her case and beckoned Addison, showing it to her. "Move again ... and I’m sticking this through your bony ass multiple times."

"Damn," Addison said, stunned. "Tough love."

"I prefer to call it child abuse," Melana replied, setting to work once again on the slip. "If you’re going to be my daughter ... you may as well act like one of the other kids and accuse me of cruelty."

*~*~*~*~

"And then you made up?" Mark said, trying to force the collar of his shirt down over his tie.

Alex nodded in response, toying with his ring.

Derek yanked his own tie off and started over. "Then why do you look like your dog just died?"

"Because it was too easy," Alex replied. "Way too easy. She didn’t really fight with me. She said ‘come home’. Just like that."

"And you want to complain?" Burke asked, already dressed and reclining on the sofa with a book in his lap. "Because it’s *easy*?"

"I know her." Alex took a deep breath. "I know her better than I know myself. She’s either done something that she’s guilty about or she’s *going* to do something and she’s -"

"Maybe it’s leftover guilt from the airshow." Finally wrangling his shirt into place, Mark smiled as his reflection. "I could be the GQ Man of the Year. I look *good*."

"You and Addison," Derek said, shaking his head as he pretended to wad his tie up and throw it across the room. "That much ego under one roof. God help us if you have kids."

Taking pity on his friend, Mark took charge himself and quickly made the perfect bow under Derek’s chin. They had decided that Alex would take over as Best Man instead of Derek. Derek didn’t feel comfortable doing the honors because Addison was the bride and because Callie was the Maid of Honor, he felt like Alex should be paired with his wife. Alex had been stunned when Mark asked him, but he agreed without hesitation. With Derek’s attire complete, Mark looked at Alex and said, "Count your blessings, man, she could still withhold sex as punishment."

"Yeah, that’s what she’ll do," Derek agreed. "It’s their Angry Woman Club thing. I think it’s at the top of their ‘How To Punish Men’ list."

Alex grinned a little. "We *tried* this morning, but Melana put an end to that quick, fast, and in a hurry."

"Gorgeous woman," Burke said, putting his book aside. "You’re a lucky man, Alex, because if Callie ages that well ... wow."

"She is pretty cool." Mark nodded. "Although I think she broke my rib when she caught me trying to talk to Addison through the door earlier."

Laughing now, Alex told them about his own wedding day, when Melana had not only caught him sneaking toward Callie’s bedroom before the ceremony, but found the naked Polaroid of Callie that he was on his way to thank her for. Melana had snatched the photo, glared at it, then him, then handed it back to him, turned him in the other direction, and kicked ... actually *kicked* him in the seat of the pants. Then kissed him on the cheek and told him that waiting made everything sweeter.

Mark agreed. "This long engagement has killed me, but I wouldn’t change it. Cause here we are."

Someone rapped heavily on the door and Derek opened it, revealing Raphael, who was smiling from ear to ear. "It’s nearly time," he told Mark. "Are you nervous?"

"Nervous? No. Close to puking? Yes."

Raphael walked into the room and put his hand on the taller man’s shoulder. "This will be the fastest day of you life. You’ll look back in twenty years and wonder what you said, what you listened to at the reception, but you will never, ever forget the way she looks when she says ‘I do’. Because in that moment ... she’s promising you everything and you will feel your life change the second you hear the truth in her voice."

Mark said nothing. He couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat. Instead, he embraced Mr. Torres and nodded.

Raphael turned and looked at Alex. "Can I speak to you for a moment, son?"

"Yes, sir." Alex followed him into the hallway, feeling more apprehension than he would have liked.

"I didn’t get a chance to inquire," Raph said softly, the gravel in his voice more pronounced when he tried to keep it low. "Are you and Callie on the road to recovery?"

"I think so."

"You think? You don’t know?"

"She usually makes me grovel a little more than she did today ... for a lot less." Alex rubbed a hand over his face. "I want it to be fine, Raphael. I need it to be fine, but -"

"What I said to Mark goes for you, too," Raphael told him. "Remember what she said to you on your wedding day. And look at her today, really look at her. She’ll let you know with her eyes if it’s okay."

Alex nodded at him. "Yes, sir."

"For the love of all things holy, son, haven’t I told you to stop calling me ‘sir’. You’re making me feel old and -"

"Respected?"

Raphael smirked at him. "I command respect without even trying." He leaned a little closer to his son in law. "And actions speak louder than words. Just ask the many men who showed me respect when I ripped out their tongues. They couldn’t call me ‘sir’, but I had no doubt they wanted to."

"I knew it!" Alex said. "You *are* a mobster! Or a gangster!"

"A gentleman never tells," Raph replied, smiling at him. "I will say, though, that old habits die hard. So fix it, Alex. Or I will."

"Did you just throw down the gauntlet?" Alex asked, grinning. "I distinctly heard a gauntlet."

"And you’re not intimidated at all." Raph chuckled. "Which is why I like you."
Ch 3
*~*~*~*~*~

Addison Forbes Montgomery legally became an orphan at fifteen. Her parents had been vacationing in Australia when they lost control of their rental car and flipped over an embankment. She was at home in New York at the time with the maid when the call came in. Addison took it well. She had been an unofficial orphan since birth. Truth be told, she took a little comfort in knowing that her parents would *never* be back ... as opposed to them coming and going like the tide. At least the finality of death kept her from wondering if they’d be there for her band concert. Or at all.

She didn’t cry at the funeral. She didn’t shed a single tear when her aunt and uncle moved into Montgomery Manor and renovated the house, tearing down walls and putting up new ones. They rarely spoke to Addison and she didn’t mind in the least. They gave her plenty of money and didn’t bother asking her why she was out all night or who she was with. She never glimpsed a real family until Derek took her home with him for Thanksgiving after they had been together for a year. Sitting in the Shepherd living room while Mrs. Shepherd showed her photos of Derek as a naked baby and Mr. Shepherd insisted on letting her choose which game to watch ... she realized that the idea of family wasn’t a fictional television sitcom. It could be real. She’d just never had it.

She’d never had it with Derek either. In all honesty, she had been the orphan in her marriage as well. It wasn’t intentional on Derek’s part. Like so many new doctors, he fell in love with medicine, with the power of performing surgeries alone and the high of saving the most critical people. The first couple of years had been as close to perfection as a marriage could be, but then he began to miss the little things, dinners, movies. By the fourth year, he forgot birthdays and anniversaries and by the eighth year, he was seldom home more than four hours a night. Addison was used to being alone by then. But it still hurt.

The Torres family, as motley and bizarre as they were, had officially adopted her. Callie may have waited until just before her wedding to have her first real girly sleepover, but Addison had waited just as long to have her first real holiday. The Christmas that she had hosted the previous year had been the highlight of her life. There was laughter, joy, and every Hallmark sentiment that a person could possibly want their holiday to include. She talked to the Torres clan weekly, even Stavros and Loukas, and usually awoke to find a funny email in her mailbox every morning from Melana, who somehow found the most hilarious news items to share.

If Callie was surprised when Addison asked her if she would be upset to share Raphael for aisle duty, she didn’t show it. Instead, Callie hugged her and made it clear that they were as close as two sisters could possibly be ... without the horrible childhood where they probably would have abused and tormented each other relentlessly. So, Addison had asked Raphael in person, flying out for a weekend getaway alone in Miami and he had cried, saying it would be an honor to give her away.

Raph and Melana had surprised Addison as well ... paying in full for the honeymoon. Greece. Addison and Mark had both fallen in love with the photographs that Melana shared with them of her home land so she was sending them there to see it all in person. She even promised that there would be a surprise waiting for the newlyweds once they landed. Addison had been so overcome by the generosity of Callie’s parents that she had sobbed, not wanting to leave. When she got back to Seattle, she stopped to see Callie first and thanked her for sharing her family by presenting her friend with her favorite Miami cheesecake.

Presently, she blinked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled when Melana fastened a string of pearls around her neck. "Something borrowed?" Addison asked.

"Something old," Melana corrected. "Those belonged to my grandmother and now ... they’re yours."

"Oh, Mel, I can’t-"

"Hush." Holding up a pair of diamond and pearl earrings, she added, "Something borrowed," and then "Something new" as she pulled a long blue box from her purse and handed it to Addison. "I hope you like it."

Addison opened the box and grinned from ear to ear. The bracelet was gorgeous, mostly diamond, but shot through with red and blue, her birthstone ... and Mark’s. "It’s so beautiful."

Melana pointed at a few empty spaces. "Plenty of room to add more stones. Your children’s stones."

"Thank you so much!"

"I’m sure your mother is very proud today, angel."

"Are you?" Addison smiled as Melana put the bracelet on her wrist. "Because you’re the only one I’ve ever known."

Sniffling, Melana kissed her on the cheek. "Are you quite certain you must marry Mark today? Because Stavros really is -"

"Don’t match make on her wedding day, Mother," Callie said.

Addison watched her best friend walk out of the bathroom looking like she had just backed over the groom. "What? Did you get your dress dirty ... CALLIE KAREV, IT DOESN’T FIT! I TOLD YOU NOT TO LOSE ANY MORE WEIGHT!"

Callie tugged the top of her gown. "Due to circumstances beyond my control ..."

"I have pins," Melana said, grabbing her purse. "Lots and lots of pins. And my goodness, Callie, that color is gorgeous with your skin. You look beautiful."

Working fast, Melana strategically pinned Callie’s dress, giving her daughter a tongue lashing that promised feeding tubes and ass kickings in equal measures, before she stepped back and nodded. "Perfection! Damn it, Calliope! You HAVE lost too much weight!"

Addison narrowed her eyes at Callie. "As soon as I get back from Greece, you and me, big talk. Big."

"Are you starving yourself again?" Mel asked.

"No," Callie replied, adjusting the top of the dress again. "I’m fine."

Addison didn’t buy it for one minute. Callie definitely looked beautiful. Her hair had been curled, and pinned to the top of her head just like Meredith’s and Cristina’s had been and the caramel colored ribbon that wove in and out of the curls matched the dress. Unlike the other two women, however, Callie’s hair had been *made* for that particular style. The hairstylist had used her natural curl as much as the curling iron and every lock fell into place in record time. It suited her, Addison thought. Callie, of course, didn’t agree. Addison crossed her arms when her friend gazed at her reflection in the mirror, nose wrinkled.

"What!?" Addison snapped.

"I look like I have a gourd on my head. Get it? Gourd head?" With a small grin, Callie sat down.

"You better not steal my thunder today, Cal."

"You mean the way you stole mine by doing a drunken Thriller dance at my reception while I was trying to cut my cake?"

Narrowing her eyes, Addison retorted with, "I told you already! I got the hand signals mixed up! I thought you wanted me to distract everyone so you could make a getaway!"

"That doesn’t explain why you toasted me in drunkenese."

Laughing, Melana checked her watch and announced that she was going to look in on the others, then hurried from the room. Addison gathered her skirt and sat beside her friend. "For someone whose husband is wearing his ring again ... you still look like he’s not."

"We’re not talking about me."

"Yes, we are." Addison put her hand on Callie’s. "I know that I’ve been a mess lately. I know that I’ve been distracted and horrible to you, but I know you. There’s something wrong. Is it Alex?"

"I forgave him."

"And?"

Callie chewed her bottom lip. "I didn’t mean it. Not really. He’s been ... mean to me, you know? He’s called me names and yelled at me in front of everyone and ... he lied to me. He said he’d never leave me, that he wouldn’t try to stop me from flying, and ... *he* didn’t mean *that*."

"I know it’s ridiculous to say it ... but this will pass. You know that, right?"

"No, I don’t know." Callie finally looked at her friend. She wanted to tell her about the alcohol. She wanted to tell her that some part of her blamed Alex for that too because she was *fine* until Alex left her, but she couldn’t because Raphael opened the door and smiled their way.

Getting to her feet, Callie accepted the kiss her father gave her and listened half heartedly when he complemented her and promised to kick her ass for the weight loss. She smoothed her skirt, then Addison’s and gave her a hug, whispering, "You look amazing, Addy. So beautiful. If you want to back out and run away with me then just start coughing and I’ll make a scene."

Addison wanted to smile at the joke, but Callie didn’t. She didn’t meet her eyes either. "Are you sure you’re -"

"Go get hitched, diva. Mark’s tired of waiting." Callie winked at her and left the room.

"Are you ready, honey?" Raphael asked, holding out his arm.

Addison took it and nodded. "Raph, how long are you staying in town?"

"We’re going to be here the remainder of the week. We wanted to stay and celebrate the birth of the Wonder Twins." He referred to Callie and Cambyses, who were born on Halloween.

"Do you think you could stay until I get back?" Addison asked. "I know it’s spur of the moment and you need to get back to work, but ... I’m worried about Callie."

"She has lost a considerable amount of weight again."

"It’s more than that," Addison told him as they headed down the hallway. "She’s not herself."

"I see." They came around the corner and Raphael looked at Callie, who was leaning back against the wall, not laughing at whatever was amusing Meredith and Cristina. Her face told the tale. She was miserable. "We’ll stay."

"Showtime," Meredith announced as one of the wedding planners opened the double doors.

*~

Mark’s eyes widened to the size of saucers when the music swelled and Callie appeared in the doorway. Beside him, Alex smiled and stood a little taller to get a better view. She walked down the aisle looking as regal and majestic as Melana Torres on her *best* day and Melana seemed to know it because she had a hand over her heart as she watched her daughter sail past her and take her place. Alex’s smile had faded by the time Meredith appeared. Callie had not looked his way *once*.

Meredith certainly looked their way. She gave Derek a dazzling smile and stood on the step below the one Callie stood on. Cristina looked miserable, uncomfortable, and self conscious as she did a half walk, half jog. Beside Derek, Burke chuckled and put a hand over his mouth, hiding his amusement behind a well executed cough. Finally, Addison appeared. Her dress had the same trumpet flounce as the bridesmaid’s dresses and it was strapless as well, ivory, and covered in sequins. Her hair had been twisted into a complicated knot on the back of her head and the veil she wore was intricately designed with lace and ribbon.

Mark stopped breathing and Alex nudged him with his elbow to snap him out of it. It felt like the aisle got longer and she got further away and by the time she finally made it to his side, his palms were sweaty and he was breathing so hard that he was dizzy. When she smiled at him, he felt his heart stop ... or flip ... or both ... and he knew he was a goner. The words that he repeated after the minister were mechanical and precise. He heard her say her vows, knew that he’d said his as well, but the only thing he saw, as Raphael predicted, was the sincerity in her face. And he heard the raw honesty of her words. He hoped she felt the same as he spoke as well.

Bride and Groom rode high on their happiness as they posed for photo after photo. The professional photographer was insanely expensive and apparently well worth it because the inventive and *fun* ways that she posed Mr. and Mrs. Sloan held the promise of a lifetime of memories caught on film. The photoshoot lasted close to forty minutes, and then the bridal party headed to the large reception area.

"You look pretty. Skinny, but pretty." Alex took Callie’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk. He didn’t lace their fingers, something he always did. "You’d be gorgeous if you’d smile, though."

"Thanks. I think."

He stopped walking, holding her back as the others went around them. When their friends disappeared into the large brick building, he said, "I’m gonna ask you again, Gothika. Are we okay? Because it doesn’t feel okay. It feels like you’re a million miles from me."

"You certainly pushed me that far." She let out her breath slowly. If he only knew how far she had actually gone. She was angry at herself for drinking. She was. But she was *furious* at him for not seeing it on her face.

"And I apologized. What’s it gonna take to make this right? All the way right and not just a little right."

"Time," she said.

"Time?"

"You were gone for close to three weeks. That’s not a lot of time, but when you’re in Hell ... time seems to stop. It felt like three years. And ... I don’t trust you right now."

Shocked at her words, Alex let her hand go. "You don’t trust me. YOU don’t trust ME? Hello? Which one of us has tried to commit suicide every single time something goes wrong?"

"Not you," she snapped. "You’re too busy packing every single time something goes wrong."

"Bull shit!" he growled, madder than he could recall being. "I didn’t budge when you were fucking up left and right. I stayed right beside you through the alcohol poisoning, through the damage to your liver, through *everything* ... so don’t you dare stand there and act like three weeks is so horrible, by god, because anybody with half a fucking brain would have left your crazy ass a long time ago."

Recoiling as if he had hit her, Callie snatched her wedding rings off her finger and threw them at him. "Why wait another minute!?"

Alex bent to pick them up and when he stood, she was disappearing into the building and Cambyses was a few feet away, looking as thunderstruck as Alex felt. Slipping her rings onto his pinky, Alex straightened a little and stood his ground and six feet four of solid muscle stalked toward him. "Cam-"

But Cam walked past him and if looks could kill, Alex would have died on the spot.

*~

"Gin and tonic, right?"

Callie jumped when a man spoke behind her. She turned on her heel and gazed up at a vaguely familiar face. He was tall, easily as tall as Cambyses and his brown hair was clipped short. Underneath the crisp white shirt he wore, the outline of a wifebeater was evident and his broad, muscular shoulders filled out the shirt in all the right places. It took her a second to place him. He was the guy who had sent her the gin and tonic at Ray’s Steakhouse that had sealed her downward spiral. She gave him a tense smile and shook her head when he lowered the tray full of champagne glasses he was carrying. "No, thanks."

"Let me guess, you’re not into waiters." He extended his free hand. "I’m Randy. And that actually is my name. I’m not telling you that I’m horny."

"I bet *all* the ladies fall for that." She laughed, shaking her head and his hand. "Callie."

"You - you probably hear this a lot, but you may be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Would you like to -"

"I’m married." Callie pulled her hand out of his when he clung to it a little too long. "But thank you."

Randy openly gazed at her left hand. "No rings? With friends like the people around here ... he should be able to afford a ring."

"It didn’t go with my dress," she lied, then spotted her parents watching her. "It was nice to meet you Randy who’s not horny. I should go."

"I’ll see you around."

Callie could feel his eyes on her as she walked around the dance floor, where Addison and Mark were trying to act out the final scene of ‘Dirty Dancing’ and failing miserably. She decided to stay nearby just in case Mark actually did the lift and broke something in Addison’s body when he inevitably dropped her. He was *not* coordinated when it came to dancing.

"Who is that man?" Melana asked, narrowing her eyes in Randy’s direction.

"A waiter." Callie dared a look behind her and saw that the man was still watching her with interest. It made her feel uncomfortable. And dirty. She chalked it up to him being a reminder of the way she had betrayed everyone, especially herself, and let her father lead her toward the table where dinner was being served.

"He’s weird," Melana said, still staring at Randy. "Do you know him?"

"No." With a shake of her head, she let her father seat her beside Addison’s chair. She thanked him and smiled when Addison flopped down beside her, winded. "I told you to start jogging with me, Addy. You’d be able to dance without looking like a sixty year old chain smoker at the Boston marathon if you did."

"Bite me," Addison replied, spreading a napkin over her lap. "Are you still singing?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Duh! Yes! I spent *weeks* picking that song."

"Then I’m still singing." Callie lifted her own napkin and toyed with the ring that held it in place. Her left hand felt too heavy, too bare for her to even look at it.

Alex slipped into the chair beside Callie and put his hand on the back of it. He glared at her for a few seconds, then leaned a little closer as the first course was served. "I didn’t mean what I said."

"You never do."

"Callie, I can’t -"

"You’re right. You can’t. So shut up."

"Don’t tell me to shut up!" Alex snapped, his voice carrying. "You’re about to piss me off."

"I’m too crazy to care. Remember?"

"Stop it." Melana, who was sitting beside Alex, moved back in her chair and looked at her daughter, shaking her head. "You two don’t want to start. Not today. You will *not* ruin Addison’s wedding."

Alex apologized under his breath and picked up his fork, pushing around the shrimp on his plate. He noticed that Callie was doing the same thing beside him.

*~

Addison swayed in Mark’s arms, gazing up at him. The smile on his face did funny things to her insides and she doubted that the two glasses of wine she’d had during dinner had anything to do with it. It was him. It was being near him. It was calling him her *husband*, which had brought the smile to his face to begin with. "I love you," she said.

He kissed her nose, her mouth. "I love you, too, Mrs. Sloan."

"Montgomery-Sloan."

"Aww, Addison, come on!"

"Mark, I have been *published* under Montgomery. I can’t lose that."

"Then get published as Sloan." He brushed his thumb over the pearls against her throat. "Baby, please?"

He stepped on her toe for the millionth time and she grinned. "I’ll think about it."

"We’re going to *Greece*." He picked her up so that her feet couldn’t touch the ground as he continued to rock back and forth. "Athens, here we come."

"We are *so* snorkeling in the Mediterranean Sea."

"And the Sea of Crete," Mark said. "Which I’m pretty sure is rumored to have a nude beach."

She shook her head. "I am not spending my honeymoon watching you lust over nubile Greek women with perfect tits."

"I’ll be too busy lusting over yours." He looked down at her cleavage with appreciation. "Let’s leave now."

"What!? No!" She popped him on the shoulder. "Callie’s singing the last song before I throw the bouquet and then we can go!"

"Well, tell her to start singing, then."

Addison checked his watch and nodded. "It is almost time. I’ll go remind her."

Callie was sitting at the dinner table, alone. Addison frowned when she saw the look on the other woman’s face. "Are you chickening out?"

"What?"

"The song? It’s almost time for us to jump on your dad’s jet and - you’re not wearing your rings. Callie, why are you-"

"Singing now." Callie got to her feet and pushed her chair under the table. "Are you gonna dance?"

"What are you doing?" Addison shook her head. "You are terrifying me. Cal. I don’t understand this. I don’t understand what you’re thinking or -"

"I’m thinking that your wedding was beautiful and what I’m doing ... is singing you on your way." Callie hugged her. "You’ll love Greece."

"No, I won’t. I’ll spend the entire time worrying about you."

"Well, that’s a waste of time." Callie kissed her cheek. "Worry makes you ugly. Mark doesn’t want an ugly bride."

"What happened? Please tell me."

"Alex and I are on a break."

"But -"

The music stopped and the DJ grabbed the mic, urging Callie to take the stage. She gave Addison a smile and headed across the dance floor. Alex stood off to one side, watching her, but she ignored him. At the piano, she flipped the microphone on and took a deep breath. She had planned something witty and fun to say, but her mind was a blank. Her life ... was a blank. "From Addison to Mark. With Love."

Callie launched into ‘Come Away With Me’ by Norah Jones, keeping her eyes closed as her fingers sailed over the keys. She knew she sang it well, she knew that she delivered it with conviction and sold the words. But she didn’t feel a love song, she didn’t want to sing a love song.

What Callie Karev wanted was a drink.

When the song ended and people clapped enthusiastically for her, she took a small bow and left the stage. Her mouth was watering again and her hands had started to shake. Despite how cool the room was, she felt a bead of sweat slip down her back and her eyes strayed to the many, many wine glasses that dotted every available surface. Most of them were half full ... or half empty depending on how you looked at it. She gripped the back of a chair as she watched Addison throw the bouquet and then she was hugging her friend goodbye and Addison was promising to call her.

The DJ was still spinning and Cristina and Burke were showing everyone in the vicinity what real dancers looked like when Sydney approached Callie. She was staggering and carried two wine glasses in her hands. When she stopped in front of Callie, she tipped one back, then belched loudly. Alex, who was standing a few feet away talking to Cam, Melana, and Raphael, turned and glanced their way.

"Syd, what are you doing?" Callie reached for other glass in her hand.

"GET YOUR OWN!" Sydney shouted, shoving Callie’s hand away. "I know what you did! You talked to the Chief about me! You let him know what I told you. Privately. You even suggested that he make a *co* Chief. I’m a *co* Chief now, Callie O’Malley!"

"I’m not an O’Malley," Callie told her, watching the other woman down the second glass of wine. In that moment, Callie envied that Sydney could openly and completely lose herself in the bottom of a bottle and no one bothered stopping her. "You told me -"

"YOU TOLD ME NOT TO TELL ABOUT YOU AND I DIDN’T!" Sydney’s voice was usually loud, but now it was booming. It was so overpowering that people in the middle of the pulsing dance floor were turning to look at the source.

"Don’t-" Callie began.

"DON’T WHAT!?" Sydney shouted. She looked over her shoulder at Alex. "DON’T TELL HIM ABOUT THE BENDER WE HAD THE OTHER NIGHT!? THE ONE WHERE YOU GOT SO DRUNK THAT YOU COULDN’T DRIVE AND HAD TO SPEND THE NIGHT AT THE HOSPITAL. THAT ONE?"

A feather could have knocked Callie over. Sydney continued to ramble about the many shots that Callie had taken, about the way they had both nearly gotten hit by a car because Callie fell into traffic and took Sydney with her, and then Raphael was gripping Callie’s arm like a vise and pulling her into an empty sitting room. It was Melana who slammed the door after Alex and Cam followed and it hit so hard that two large paintings fell into the floor. Callie’s eyes were riveted to the Virgin Mary who was staring upward, seemingly looking into Callie’s soul.

"Is it true?" Melana demanded. "Is it?!"

Callie didn’t speak.

"ANSWER HER!" Raph bellowed. "DID YOU!?"

With a nod, Callie walked to the window and stared out. Addison was climbing into the limo, making a secret getaway while everyone was still busy. For a moment, she thought the red head saw her, but then Addison was gone and Callie was wishing that she was locked away in the trunk. She drowned out the voices behind her, finally putting her hands over her ears when Melana began to yell in Greek.

Cam pushed her arms down and forced her to listen.

"Why in the hell did you do this? WHY!?" Raphael’s tone was so commanding that Melana was silenced in mid tirade. "You *know* that you have a problem! You know that your liver is --- explain yourself! SAY SOMETHING, CALLIOPE!"

"There’s nothing to say." Callie still didn’t look anyone in the eye. "It’s done. I - I can’t take it back."

Alex rubbed a hand over his face. He had been unable to find his voice until he heard hers. "Have you had your liver checked since then?"

She nodded. "Twice."

"And?"

"It’s fine." Callie looked at him, then back at the floor. His expression devastated her. It was full of loathing, just like she had known it would be. "And I’ve been to a meeting since then."

"Only one?" Alex snapped. "You did this a few days ago. You were hungover that day in the chapel, weren’t you? That’s why you were -"

"Yes, but -"

"Then why did you just go to one meeting? They have several a day and -"

"I --- bought a bottle of bourbon yesterday morning when I got off work and I had this battle of wills with it for a while and then I went to a meeting and poured it out."

"BOURBON ALMOST KILLED YOU!" Cambyses shouted, grabbing her arms and shaking her. It was so rough that Callie’s teeth clattered together and she bit her tongue, crying out. He didn’t relent. "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND!?"

"STOP!" Alex moved between them, pushing Cam away from her. He absently touched the red marks that Cambyses had left on her upper arms, then tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him. His nostrils flared, his cheeks were flushed, and his voice was hard. "I am ashamed of you and I never thought I’d say that."

Callie watched in horror as her husband stalked out of the room. Cam followed behind him, not looking back, not saying a word. Feeling like she was carrying the weight of the world, Callie slumped into the nearest chair and buried her forehead in her hands. The tears that she had been swallowing back for most of the day came rushing out and for a while, she was grateful that her parents were uncharacteristically quiet. She lifted her head after a few minutes had passed. She wanted to look them in the eye when she apologized.

The room was empty.


They had left her, too.

She sobbed now and it echoed around the silent room, vibrating through her like a drum. There was a sofa in the corner and she curled up on it, her knees pulled against her chest. She had no idea how much time elapsed, but when she looked back at the window ... it was dark outside. The music had stopped in the other room and she rolled over, putting her feet in the floor. Her tears started all over again, unbidden, and she leaned her head against the arm of the couch.

Then warm, strong arms wrapped around her and she said, "Alex - I’m -"

"It’s Randy."

She gasped and sat back, gazing at the man in shock. "What are you -"

"Comforting a pretty woman."

"I have to go."

"Go? What’s the hurry."

"I need to get home and -"

When he pulled her against him again, he copped a feel, openly grasping her breast. She shoved him and he *laughed*, grabbing her wrist as he wrenched the top of her dress down. Her decision not to wear a bra left her exposed and *furious*. He roughly gripped her flesh, tugging, bruising, and she slapped him. He retaliated with a head butt to her face that forced her to see stars ... and him ... swimming in and out of her vision as he got to his feet and pulled a knife from the front pocket of his pants.

"Easy or hard? Vanilla or chocolate? You get to decide, sweet thing." He slid the knife between her breasts, then down to the cloth of her dress. "Let’s see what the rest of you looks like."

"NO!" Callie punched him, sending him sprawling on his ass. She leaped to her feet and tried to jump over him, but he gripped her leg and dug the knife into her tender calf. The pain took her breath and prevented her from screaming. She choked on the sound and gagged on the blood that was running from her nose into her mouth.

"Hard, then," he told her, pushing her onto her stomach. The knife rubbed over her cheek as he tried to lift the bottom of her dress.

She elbowed him in the stomach, crawling to her knees, then her feet. She stumbled, her injured leg buckling under her. The blade sliced her ankle and she tried to scream, tried to rage, but the pain was almost unbearable and she could not make a sound.

Randy caught the end of her dress as she made a frantic dash for the door. It ripped at the waist, exposing her hip. Callie grabbed a lamp off the table and threw it at him, but he ducked fast and laughed again. Limping, she put the table between them, glancing at the door. If she tried to run -

"You ain’t gonna make it," he told her, running the blade between his fingers to clean it. "Now, I don’t want to ruin your pretty face, but I will."

The casual way he promised to destroy her sent fire racing through her veins. She drew herself to her full height and said, "Try it, asshole."

He leaped across the table, reaching for her. She ducked under him and raced to the back door, flinging it open. There was a small courtyard with round patio furniture and the parking lot was just around the corner. She opened her mouth and screamed, but it barely took flight because Randy tackled her from behind. With her wind knocked out, she couldn’t fight him as she turned her onto her back and punched her. She lost count of the blows, lost track of the pain. Then the knife was at her throat and he was trying again to lift her dress and she was kicking with everything she had.

Callie brought her knee up into his crotch as hard as she could and it was *his* scream that was loud and clear. She had expected him to roll off her, but she wasn’t so lucky. His pain seemed to renew his efforts and he snatched at her hair and she was convinced he was scalping her. She clawed at his face then bit into his chest hard enough to bring blood. He howled and slammed a fist into her gut. She drew inward, trying to get her lungs to fill with air and then someone shouted nearby and there was a flash of black, a flash of Latte and then more screams ... of outrage.

Then ... silence.


*~*~*~

Miranda Bailey became a doctor for the money. That’s all there was to it. She had been smart enough to get a full ride to any school she wanted and she thought about going into law for a split second, then her father started calling her Doctor ‘Randa and medical school won out. She aced her exams, graduated top of the class, and buried her father just two short weeks after he had beamed at her from the front row. It made her feel helpless at the time, watching him bleed to death after a car had mowed him down right in the busy street she had grown up on. She was a helpless *daughter* who could not save a life, no matter how much schooling she had. He had been mortally wounded.

Now, at this moment, she was a helpless *doctor* who couldn’t shut off the woman in her brain long enough to think clearly. Callie had not woken up yet and rape kits were hard on everyone involved, but Miranda had only done two in her entire medical career and one of those had been a practice run. She needed Addison. She needed Addison Montgomery to walk through the door, put on gloves, and do the kit correctly because you only got one shot to collect everything ... and Miranda was terrified that she would blow it. She also needed consent, so she shook Callie again, gently saying her name.

Chief Webber still worked on the two wounds to Callie’s leg. He had decided that she would not require surgery, but as Miranda watched him stitch it, she thought that Callie would likely need an amputation before all was said and done because the Chief’s hands were shaking and he was moving slowly because of it. He caught her looking at him and said, "Did someone find Alex?"

"Not yet," she replied. "Can I get consent from her brother?"

"You want to get consent from someone who just committed murder?" Webber shook his head. "The police are still with him. Leave him alone."

"It was self defense," Bailey said. "Everyone saw it. When her parents get here, I’ll get them to sign everything."

"Or you can just do the exam. We need to know. The police need to know."

"Yes, sir."

"O’Malley is the only familiar face on duty right now. Do you want him to help?"

"No. Just send a couple of nurses in."

Miranda watched as he finished up Callie’s leg and left the room. She shook her friend again and said, "DAMN IT! WAKE UP, GIRL!"

Callie complied, jumping three feet off the bed. "Alex-"

"It’s me." Miranda smiled at her, keeping her voice much calmer than she felt. "Can you remember what happened?"

Callie’s head was a jumble of flashes and strange images until Randy’s face emerged from the tangle and she pushed herself upright, opening her mouth to scream as pain shot through every inch of her. Bailey impulsively hugged her, soothing her the way Melana had when Callie would barrel into the master bedroom room after a nightmare as a littel girl. "What-"

"This is important," Bailey said, easing back to look at the other woman. "Did he rape you?"

"He - he tried." Callie stared down at her hands. She was missing several finger nails. "I - I fought."

"I can see." Miranda took one of her hands, so relieved that she could have sunk to the floor in prayer. "I’m not Mark Sloan so my stitches need a little work, but -"

"What happened? I mean - who helped me?"

"We can talk about all that later," Miranda replied, easing away. "Because of the nature of this assault, we need to still do the kit, Callie. You weren’t conscious when you came in and it’s possible that he - that you -"

"Okay."

"Do you want me to get someone for you? I know that Meredith and Cristina are here. Izzie’s out there, too. She’s the one stopped the bleeding on your leg at the scene." Bailey saw that none of the choices were the ones she wanted. "We’re still trying to get in touch with your parents."

"Alex?"

"We left a message."

"I’ll be okay with just you."

The nurses that Bailey requested came in and Callie tried to get out of the bed. Miranda told them to leave and gently eased Callie back. "You relax. I’ll do this as fast as I can."

Callie nodded.

Miranda pulled on gloves and opened the kit, taking out several vials and swabs. "The last person I did a routine pelvic exam on was Addison. She had poison ivy on her ... hee haw ... and -"

Callie tuned her out, gazing out the window at the black sky. It had started to rain and water dotted the glass. She could hear thunder rumbling in the distance and she gripped the bedclothes as Bailey began the exam. Callie figured that the thunder was God, reminding her that lacking a fear gene wasn’t always smart. Because someone bigger, badder, and stronger had given her a comeuppance.

And finally clipped her wings.

*~

Melana had changed out of her wedding attire, opting for jeans and a sweater. She rushed into the front doors of Seattle Grace with a frantic expression on her face. The call from Cristina had been taken by Raphael, who grabbed her shoes and his wallet and half carried her to the car. He refused to tell her what had been said, only that something had happened. Melana’s mind raced as only a mother’s could. She imagined Callie, poisoned by alcohol again. What she *saw*, however, was Cambyses, covered in blood, a stark white bandage against his face, and she broke into a sprint. "Cam!"

He caught his mother as she flung herself at him, trying to feel every inch of him for injuries. "I’m okay."

Raphael, who had been delayed by parking the car, hurried to his wife’s side, pausing to take in the carnage around him. Cristina and Meredith were sitting side by side against the wall, both looking like extras in a horror movie. Their Latte dresses had been stained with blood and beside them, Izzie Stevens stood with her arms crossed over her chest. The bottom of her dress was ripped, revealing most of her leg, and both of her hands were crimson. "Where is -"

"They’re working on her," Cam replied.

"Who? Is - Callie -"

Cam opened his mouth to speak, but Alex ran through the double doors and drew up short when he saw everyone. Cam motioned for him and Alex hurried to their side. "What happened to her? They said there was an accident. Is she - was it the car?"

"No." Cam ran a hand over his face. "She was attacked. She was, uh, raped. We think."

Melana sat down in a chair and Izzie hurried to her side, kneeling beside her and speaking in a soft, low voice. Raphael put an arm around Alex, who swayed on the spot, and said, "Is she - what are -"

"The only thing they’re saying is that she’s lost a lot of blood." Cam looked at the officer’s behind him. "God, I don’t know how to say this. I went back to check on her because I didn’t feel right about how we left it. I saw that her car was still at the church and I looked around for a while and then checked the room we had been in. It was locked. I heard her scream and knocked it down and ... Meredith and Derek were there. Callie had run outside and that guy ... he was on top of her, he was trying to kill her. Before all was said and done ... he cut Derek and then came at me and ... well ... it was the last mistake he made."

"You ... killed him, son?" Raphael looked horrified.

"I got the knife away from him and - yeah, Dad, I killed him. And I’d do it again. If you had been there to see it -" Cam shivered. "I called Blake. I know you wanted him to stay and handle things for the week, but -"

"It’s fine." Raphael touched his son’s arm. "And what do the police say?"

"They know it was self defense, Dad. There are more than ten witnesses." Cambyses reached down and clasped Alex’s shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Alex couldn’t form words at all.

Bailey took a deep breath as she peered through the door at the family. Straightening her jacket, she stiffened her upper lip and headed out to talk to them. "Would the family please come with me?"

She didn’t object when Yang, Grey, and Stevens filed in behind the actual relatives. The Angry Woman Club was two members short, but the anger rolling off the remaining three was palpable. And justified. So she let them come along. When they were all seated in a secluded family room, Miranda sat down beside Alex and took his hand. "How much do you know?"

"Enough. How is she?"

"She’s awake," Miranda replied. "The stab wound to her calf won’t need surgery. The one on her ankle was really close to the tendon, but we don’t see any damage there that can’t mend on its own. She --- she was *not* raped."

Everyone cried out their relief and Miranda raised a hand to silence them. "She did take a beating, though. I need you all to be prepared for that. Stay calm. If you fall apart then she will fall apart and thus far ... she hasn’t. At all. Be gentle and don’t crowd her. Don’t grab her hands, either, because I had to stitch both and -"

"He cut her hands?" Cristina demanded. "Her surgeon hands!?"

Bailey shook her head. "No. She fought him. She fought for her life. She’s missing a few fingernails and the backs of her hands were split open, either by his teeth or by the force of the blows. She may not want to be touched. Don’t try to force her to talk about it or ask her a lot of questions. She’s holding up okay, but she’s jumpy. The slightest noise startles her."

"Does she know what I did?" Cam asked. "Because before she blacked out she saw me. She saw ... it."

"She hasn’t talked to me about it," Bailey replied. "She hasn’t really talked at all. And that’s not uncommon, but we’re going to have someone from the rape crisis center come and see her ... maybe help her deal."

"Can we see her?" Alex got to his feet.

Bailey nodded and looked at Meredith. "You wait here. I’ll let Burke know where you are. He’s almost finished with Derek’s surgery and he’ll be in to talk to you soon." She watched Cam get to his feet and shook her head. "You need to clean up before you visit her. I’m sorry, but she doesn’t need to see you looking like that. Stevens, show him where the spare scrubs are and let him use the resident’s locker room. Callie’s in seven twelve."

Cam accompanied the blond without complaint. Bailey nodded at Callie’s family and said, "Follow me."

She led them to a large corner room in the ER, the biggest and most private that the hospital had. It was reserved for massive traumas. Turning, she took a deep breath. "She asked about showering. We can get some waterproof bandages for her leg, but with the blood loss ... we’re concerned about her standing for too long. Her blood pressure hasn’t stabilized yet. So, if she needs to go to the restroom or insists on showering ... someone has to stay with her."

Alex nodded and opened the door. His wife was sitting on the bed with her legs pulled against her chest. Her face was down and he was struck, reminded of one of the first times he had really talked to her. She had been crying in the resident’s lounge and when he peered inside, she was sitting on the window ledge in the same exact position. He said her name and she looked up, causing him to stop walking toward her from the shock. He had seen trauma. He had witnessed it firsthand as a child when his mother would crawl on her hands and knees to the bathroom to clean the blood from her face. He had iced her bruises, covered her eyes when they were swollen shut ... but seeing Callie this way ... he wasn’t able to move at all until she lowered her head again, shielding the worst of the injuries from his view. Not seeing the carnage broke the spell and he hurried to her side. "Baby -"

"I’m okay," she said, her head still down.

Melana wiped the tears off her own face before she eased to Callie’s other side and said, "Do you want something to drink? Some water? Juice?"

Callie didn’t reply.

"Why don’t you lie down, mi vida?" Mel continued. "You need to rest and -"

"It hurts," Callie replied. "My back."

Alex peered around her. The gown she wore was untied and he could see a couple of bruises. He gently eased one of the flaps to the side and Callie practically leapt off the bed. "Whoa." He held his hands up. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry."

Melana had grabbed her before she could jump too far. Wordlessly, she pulled her a little closer and kissed her cheek, holding her daughter against her chest. "Can you lie on your side?"

Callie shook her head. "I don’t want to. Where’s Cam?"

"He’s coming, Mija." Raphael finally turned toward her. He had taken one brief look at her and gone to the window instead. The wounds he had inflicted on people paled in comparison and he was a *professional*. "Do you need something for the pain, kitten?"

"I don’t want it." Even as Callie said it, her mother released her and the shift caused her to cry out in agony.

"You need it," Alex told her, trying to help her get comfortable.

She flinched away from him when he touched her knee. "Don’t."

He put his hands in the pockets of his pants. The urge to touch her, all of her, to see the damage for himself, was simply too great otherwise. "Callie, is there anything I can -"

"You don’t have to be here," she replied.

"I want to be here."

"We’re not okay," she told him.

"I’m not going anywhere. And we’re fine, Cal. We are."

She put her head back on her knees, praying that the pain would stop. It wasn’t fine. She wasn’t fine and her marriage wasn’t fine. Alex had made it clear that a *sane* man would have left her and that he was ashamed of her. She didn’t look up again until Cambyses walked in and rushed to her side. She didn’t have to ask. She knew. She simply knew that what she thought she saw was the truth. He had removed the source of her injuries. Patting the side of the bed, she reached up and touched his cheek when he sat down. "You killed him."

"I didn’t want to. Well, yeah, I did, but I didn’t - he came at me." Cam reached up and pulled a couple of bobby pins from her hair. Melana’s hands joined his and they quickly freed it, letting her black locks fall in soft waves around her shoulders. "Now you’re Callie. That up-do was *so* not you. Made you look old."

Saying nothing, Callie leaned forward, her head on her brother’s shoulder. It hurt, when he pulled her a little closer, but she said nothing. She stayed that way and when the nurse arrived to offer her the medications that the Chief had ordered ... Cam told her to take it and she did.

She fell asleep still upright against his shoulder.

And he didn’t listen when everyone told him to let her go. He clung to her the same way he had years before, when they were ten years old and sank their uncle’s yacht. He clung to her like she was his lifeline.

Because she was.

*~*~

"Melana Torres wins at *life*!" Mark announced, when Addison emerged from the airplane bathroom wearing a solid white lingerie set that left nothing to the imagination. He gazed at his wife’s milky thighs, where her stockings were held in place by garters that were diamond studded. His eyes moved hungrily over her body, pausing at the exposed patch of her belly below her corset. Holding up his finger, he motioned for her to turn around. She complied and he leaped from the bed when he saw the thong she wore. "Melana is also a dirty, dirty woman. Best damn wedding present we got!"

Addison cackled with glee when he tossed her onto the bed. "Airplane sex! Mile high club here we come!"

"Not just any old airplane," Mark said, climbing up her body, peppering her with kisses. "A gazillion dollar plane with a *vibrating* bed!"

Her eyes widened when he flipped a switch and the bed hummed to life. "This is where Callie gets her perversion."

"Are you kidding? The pilot told me the bed was new. Melana slept on the one like it on Goon Docks and it rocked her world." Mark kissed her on the forehead. "Are you going to let me take this off, Mrs. Sloan?"

"I really want to hyphenate it, Mark."

"Hyphenating it means that there is something between us."

"It does not!" Addy replied, running her foot up his bare leg.

"Yes, it does." He moved to one side to prevent her from distracting him. "It means that there is a minus sign after your name ... which implies that you can subtract me from your life any time."

"Now that’s just ridiculous."

"You married me! That means -"

"We talked about this already!"

"Right, we *talked* about it. Now’s when we decide," he snapped. "Either we’re together in name ... and everything else ... or we’re not."

She groaned. "Are you threatening to divorce me already?"

"It’s not a real marriage unless you-"

"Ooooh!" She pushed him completely off her and got to her feet. "You are acting like a damn caveman! This is -"

"And you’re acting like a damn femi-Nazi who-"

"Did you just call me a Nazi!?" She picked up the pillow and hit him with it. "I am so glad this plane has two bedrooms! Get the hell out!"

"You’re already on your feet. You get the hell out." He snatched the pillow from her hand and put it behind his head, making a show of plumping it. "You want equality or whatever? Fine. Keep your damn name. I don’t care. But don’t ask me to do anything *manly* for you because you not taking my last name is emasculating!"

Addison grabbed a pair of flannel pajamas from her overnight bag and stalked out of the room. For thirty minutes, she paced the length of the second bedroom, which only contained a twin bed, waiting for him to come and apologize. When he didn’t, she picked up the cabin phone and dialed Callie’s cell. It rang several times and then went to voice mail. "Hey, it’s me. God. We didn’t even make it to the actual honeymoon before we had our first married fight. I don’t know whether to choke him or toss his ass off the plane. If I turn that big handle on the door will it suck us all out or just him? ‘Cause I can fix it so he’s standing there. I wish you were here, Cal. I miss you already. The next trip I take ... it’s you and me. Love you. Call me. Bye."

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 4
Derek awoke with a groan, holding up his bandaged arm. The knife had entered on the underside, just above the elbow. For good measure, he flexed his fingers and gripped the bedrail, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that there was no nerve damage. He felt everything he touched and he could see that his grip was firm.

"You’re awake," Meredith said as she entered the room. She looked at his arm, then his face and burst into tears. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"I’m sorry," he told her, tilting his head to one side as he watched her. Holding out his uninjured hand, he beckoned her forward and pulled her against his chest. "Better?"

"Maybe."

"How’s Callie?"

"They said she wasn’t raped."

"Oh, thank God. I wasn’t sure. It looked ... well, you saw it, too."

"Yeah, I did." Meredith lifted her skirt a few inches and climbed into the bed beside him. "I don’t want to go to sleep. I think I’ll keep seeing it."

"How do my shoes fit?" Derek asked.

"Huh?"

He pulled her a little closer. "What you feel right now. That’s exactly how I felt when I saw you floating in Elliot Bay. When you drowned ... I didn’t want to go to sleep because every time I closed my eyes ... I saw your face. It was blue and you weren’t breathing."

She sniffled and looked up at him. "Let’s make a deal. I won’t get near the water again if you won’t be a knight in shining whatever ... ever."

"I accept that deal." He kissed her forehead. "How’s Alex?"

"I passed by the chapel while ago. He was in there with his head in Melana’s lap ... he’s devastated."

"I’m so glad we heard Callie scream. If we hadn’t been there-"

"We were." Meredith put her hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Cambyses ... he killed him."

"Cam is dead!?"

"No! Cam killed the man. You were knocked out by then."

Cristina knocked and poked her head in, looking grim. She had taken her hair down and was wearing Burke’s bloody tux jacket over her soiled dress. Cristina had been the first to get to Callie. While Derek had tackled the man, she had dropped to her knees beside her friend and tried to mop up as much blood as possible. It had terrified her when Callie lost consciousness. Burke had joined the fight and was busily tending to Derek and Cambyses by the time Izzie appeared. The blond had thought fast ... ripping her own skirt to make a field dressing for Callie’s leg. Frazzled and exhausted, Cristina looked at Derek and said, "How do you feel?"

Derek smiled at her. "I’m okay. Have you seen Cal?"

"She’s sleeping. Webber sedated her ... and Mel sedated Alex, too. Just now."

Meredith sat up beside Derek, pushing her hair back. "What -"

"Apparently Callie drank again and they all said some stuff to her before the attack so they’re feeling pretty small and she’s not letting anyone except Cam near her." Cristina massaged her forehead. "I told Callie the other day that she was like a bad storm cloud and -"

"Stop." Meredith shook her head. "We were all pretty pissed and stand offish after the air show. I mean ... Alex called me a secretive asshole and I blamed her just as much as he did."

"This sucks." Cristina’s mood improved significantly when Burke walked in. He was dressed in the same dark blue scrubs he had always favored and his lucky scrub cap. While he was currently employed at Mercy West, Webber had made the exception to let him operate on Derek.

He pulled Cristina into his arms and gave her a kiss. "You ready to go home?"

"I haven’t seen you in this outfit in a really, really long time."

"Over a year, but who’s counting?" Burke pushed her hair back and smiled at Derek. "How are you?"

"I’m good. Thank you. You saved my career."

"There are a lot of heroes tonight, man. A lot."

*~*~*~*~*~

Addison woke with a start, then frowned when she saw the reason why. The cute little flight attendant, blond and petite and giggly, was shaking her. Sitting up, Addison checked her watch. The attendant, appropriately named Bianca, gave her a wide, sparkling smile. "We’re approaching Greece. You’ll need to take your seat and strap in soon, ma’am."

"Thank you." Addison waited for the girl to leave, then hastily crossed the hall. The master bedroom was empty and Mark’s bag was no longer in the corner of the room. She gathered her own bag and pulled out casual slacks and a sweater, then quickly dressed and brushed her teeth. She carried her repacked satchel into the main cabin to store in the overhead and narrowed her eyes.

Her ‘husband’ was watching a movie on the big screen television while he openly flirted with Bianca, who was seated beside him. The girl shot to her feet when she saw Addison and rambled off several breakfast choices. Addison chose a bagel and juice as she stowed her bag. Mark had gotten to his feet so she could slide into the spot beside him, but she stalked further up the aisle, taking a seat with her back to him. He chuckled behind her and went back to his movie.

Bianca brought out the food and glanced back and forth between the newlyweds. "My husband and I couldn’t sit close enough together when we got married."

Addison noted the lack of a ring on her garishly manicured hand. "How long have you been married?"

"We were married for eleven months, but we got divorced."

"Maybe you should have sat apart." Addison turned her attention to the window.

"Don’t mind her," Mark said. "She’s a red headed she-devil."

Addison peered around the seat at him. "And you’re an old fashioned prude. Do I need to mention your reaction to handcuffs?"

"Only if I mention that for a modern woman ... you sure get off on being spanked like a naughty little girl."

"Don’t talk to me."

"My pleasure."

Bianca smiled. "Are you *sure* you’re not blood related to the Torres family? You sound just like them."

The landing in Greece went smoothly. The pilot turned on the intercom and told them all about the scenery as they approached. It was like a history lesson in mid air and his wealth of knowledge was as impressive as the view. Addison gasped so many times that she was lightheaded from it. They left the plane, Mark carrying his suitcase, Addison carrying both of hers and the overnight bag. He didn’t offer to help her. She alternated between pushing and pulling the largest of the two until an insanely attractive older man in a suit hurried forward, saying, "Addison?"

She stopped walking and blew a strand of hair off her forehead. "I’m sorry. Do I -"

"I’m Demitri Karakas." The man extended his hand. "Melana’s brother. She described you perfectly."

"Oh! Hi!" Addison clasped his hand, beaming at him. His black hair was shot through with gray and fell to his shoulders in curls. She briefly thought of Yanni. "So, everyone in your family has great hair, huh?"

Demitri smiled and touched his flyaway curls. "It’s only great when it’s on someone else, my dear. How was your flight?"

"Long." Addison hefted her overnight bag again. "And exhausting."

The old man frowned and glanced toward the limo he had exited. Mark was standing behind it, handing over his luggage to the chauffer who had been wielding a sign that read ‘Sloan’. "I mean no offense, Red Robin, but if all men in America leave their women to carry the luggage ... why are they able to entice such beautiful brides?"

"Lover’s quarrel." Addison let the man lift her luggage and followed along behind him. "He seems to take offense to me keeping my name."

"Did he love you with the old name?"

"Yes."

"Then he should love you with or without his. Shall I break one of his bones to remind him?"

Addison laughed. "You sound just like Melana."

"Where do you think she learned it?"

After Addison introduced Demitri to Mark, the three settled into the back of the limo. Addison politely answered all of the man’s questions about Callie and her brothers and showed him several photos of his niece that were on her phone. Demi entertained them with stories of Callie’s youth and her many trips to visit him ... some without her parent’s knowledge. As they made their way along the coastline, Demi pointed out various landmarks. Almost forty minutes later, they arrived at a large gate and Addison rolled the window down to get a better view of the place where Melana had grown up.

The house was even bigger than the Torres home in Miami. Parts of it looked modern, but most of it looked like castle. "The oldest part of the house was built in the eighteen fifties," Demi said. "Over the years we’ve added on, but we’ve never torn down the original structure. Most of the architecture has remained the way our ancestors envisioned it."

"It’s amazing," Addison said, breathing in the smell of the sea. "How many siblings does Melana have?"

"Eight. All brothers."

"Whoa!" Mark shook his head. "Nine kids?"

"Three sets of twins," Demi replied politely. The way he regarded Mark implied that he still had not forgotten the luggage. "Unfortunately only myself and Xenos, the youngest, are here in Greece. Our family has spread far and wide. He’s hoping to come and visit with you if his schedule permits. Neither of us reside here at Bounty’s Keep so apart from the staff, you’ll have the place to yourselves."

They finally arrived in front of the house and Addison smiled at the many people who had come to stand on the rough, stone steps. There were at least fifteen in all. The chauffer opened the door and a tall, lanky man with the most crooked nose Addy had ever seen stepped forward and bowed so low that she wondered if the tip of his nose scraped the ground. "Ma’am," he said, "I am Barnacle, head butler. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Addison shook his hand and watched him greet Mark in the same manner. "You’re not from Greece. Your accent sounds New England. Are you a Gloucester man?"

"Born and raised," Barnacle told her. "Are you from there?"

"New York, but we vacationed in Massachusetts every year. You’re a long way from home."

"No, ma’am." He shook his head. "It took retirement from the fishing industry to bring me home. Please, let me introduce the staff."

They came forward one by one for the introductions. There were five housekeepers, several gardeners, and four cooks who were dressed in full Chef attire. Two masseuses were introduced last, both male, and Addison wondered what Callie thought of the Greek Gods. They were both giants, both cut, and both too gorgeous to put into words. She couldn’t wait to see if their fingers were as talented as they were charming.

Demitri apologized after the introductions were completed, saying that he had to get back to his office for an important phone call. He hugged Addison, shook Mark’s hand, and climbed back into the limo. Willa, the head housekeeper, led the newlyweds inside the house, chattering with a thick Greek accent about everything under the sun. She was very short, very round, and wore a standard gray uniform with a white apron, which she nervously twisted in her plump fists.

"We don’t get very many visitors," she said, looking back and forth between them. "I’ve been working here for over forty years so if you need anything at all ... you need only ask. Please, may I give you a brief tour?"

"Certainly," Addison replied, watching as the gardeners carried their luggage up a sprawling staircase.

The brief tour wound up taking close to an hour as there was nothing brief about the house. The floors in the old structure were stone and the carvings inside the stone caused Addison’s high heels to nearly break her ankles. She finally slipped her shoes off just in time to sink into the thickest, plushest carpet she had ever dug her toes into. It felt like marshmallows and the color was shocking and beautiful at the same time. Everything in the family room was navy blue. The walls, the carpet, the furniture. The only other color present was white. All the tables, trim, and accessories were brilliant against the dark blue and it could have been too much ... but it wasn’t. It fit.

Next they were shown a theater and the fully stocked library of movies. The kitchen near the family room was small and unremarkable. Willa explained that all of the real cooking took place in another kitchen just off the dining room, which was in another wing of the house. The small kitchen was an ‘in between’ that was used as a wet bar or refreshment stand during parties. The library was easily three stories tall, round, and stocked with so many tomes that the scent of leather was almost overpowering.

It was all too much to absorb, even in the hour spent trying. Addison finally pronounced it the most breathtaking thing she had ever seen. Willa gave her a secretive smile and said, "Only because you’ve yet to see the view."

The housekeeper opened two double doors and motioned for her guests to step outside. Mark and Addison both cried out in shock ... and fear. The balcony they stood on was glass on bottom so that none of the scenery was compromised. It jutted at least twenty feet over a cliff that was Grand Canyon like in its proportions. Water and rocks were all that could be seen for miles and Addison’s stomach lurched when she realized that parts of the back of the house appeared to have been carved right into the rocky cliff that they now overlooked. If they fell ... it would kill them. They were at least fifty stories from the water’s surface.

"This is unreal," Mark said, leaning casually against the glass railing as he gazed over.

"Mark, get away from there." Addison put her hand on his and he kept hold of it as he stepped toward her, not letting go.

"It’s safe," Willa told them, then pointed across the water. "Can you see the other keep?"

"I’m sorry, what?" Mark asked.

"I must apologize. No matter how much American television Calliope sends me ... my vocabulary is as old as me." The old woman laughed, her eyes crinkling. "Can you make out the house against the rocks there?"

Both squinting, Addison and Mark stared at the opposite shoreline. The sun was reflecting off the water, turning everything yellow and orange. Finally, he pulled his wife a little closer, his head against hers, and pointed. "There it is. See the windows? It’s right next to the rock that looks like ... praying hands."

"Oh! Yeah!" Addy nodded. "What is that place?"

"Talking Rock," Willa replied. "No one lives there now, but for many, many years it was a church. Different priests would reside there under the family’s urging to keep watch on Bounty’s Keep. Every marriage until Calliope’s took place at Talking Rock. The soil is blessed a million times over."

"That’s amazing," Addison told her, still staring at the cottage. "Could we visit?"

"Everything is yours while you are here, madam. You may use the boats, the cars, the horses, everything. When Demi flies you to Egypt, you’ll be given an aerial tour of the estate here and the surrounding areas as well. If anything strikes your fancy and you want to see it better, simply let me know and I’ll arrange for someone to escort you." The woman curtsied. "May I show you your room?"

Mark and Addison exchanged amused looks. Being treated like royalty made them both uncomfortable and self important in equal measures. They mostly felt self important when another set of doors opened and they feasted their eyes on a room that was as large as their entire cabin back in Seattle. "Holy crap," Addison exclaimed, reaching out and touching one of the fabric covered walls.

The king size bed had a canopy that matched the silk walls and the pattern gave the room a middle eastern flair. Mostly oranges, reds, and yellows, everything was pristine and shining. The chandelier that hung over a sitting area was large and crystal and the paintings were all illuminated with special track lighting that showcased the artist’s talents beautifully. When Willa saw Mark admiring a perfect oil replication of the view from the glass deck, she beamed. "Melana is quite the artist."

"She did these? All of these?" Mark asked, gazing at the room at large. "There must be hundreds."

"She was quite the prolific artist."

Addison could only gaze around her in wonder. "This room is fit for a king."

"The room was actually built for a queen," Willa corrected as she stoked the fire in the grate. "Many noble ladies have stood where you are standing. And ... woman are rare in the Karakas family. Melana and Calliope are the only females born into the direct line in over seventy years. So ... this is their room, decorated to celebrate their femininity and the hope that they can carry on the lineage. Stavros was conceived here."

Addison grinned and looked at the bed. "Was that before or after their wedding at Talking Rock?"

"That’s rude," Mark chided.

Willa laughed, a hearty, rich sound. "Before, ma’am. Which is why Papa Karakas had Raphael beaten within an inch of his life and invited no one to the ceremony. He saw to it that Raphael was whisked away almost immediately. Poor Melana ... she left home just a few short months later. Seventeen and all alone."

Mark shifted from one foot to the other as he listened. He was almost certain that Melana had said she married at seventeen and gave birth to Stavros as nineteen. He filed the information in the back of his mind, however, as Willa showed them the bathroom and instructed them to settle in while she saw to their lunch. When the old woman cleared out, he watched Addison kick off her shoes and climb into the bed, which was so tall that it required a step stool.

He followed suit, toeing off his own as he crawled in beside her. "Listen, Addison ... I *will* convince you to take my name, but until I figure out how ... can I just say that I’m sorry and give you a kiss? We’re in paradise and there’s a rule somewhere that says you can’t be pissed in paradise."

"I didn’t get a wedding night because of you."

"What’s one night when we have a lifetime?"

"A lifetime!? I’m *forty*." She crossed her arms over her chest as she gazed up at the canopy. "I may have twenty more years of good sex left in me."

"Just twenty?"

"Do you really want to have sixty year old sex?"

"Is my name not Mark Sloan?" He grinned. "I’ve been having sex since I was thirteen. I’ll still be doing it on my deathbed."

"Masturbation isn’t really sex, idiot."

He leaned down and kissed her. "Montgomery isn’t really a great name, idiot too."

"I *like* my name."

"Wanna explore or get naked?"

"Explore. I’m holding a grudge for a while longer. Grudges require closed legs and sarcasm."

"Then we explore." He hopped off the side of the bed and extended his hand. She took it and he lifted her into his arms, holding her against him the way he had done on the dance floor at their reception. "But I’ll make it hard on you. Groveling requires much heavy petting and seduction and I plan to grovel whole heartedly."

She smiled, then noticed something just behind him. "What’s that?" Reaching up, she grasped a cord and tugged it. When nothing happened, she tugged again, then a third time for good measure.

There was a clattering of footsteps in the hallway and then a heavy knock on the door. "Come in," Mark called.

Barnacle pushed the door open, his hands clasped in front of the stiff waistcoat that he wore. His breathing was labored, indicating that he had run. "You rang?"

"Rang?" Addison looked at Mark for explanation and saw the rope still swinging. "Oh! We rang! I’m sorry, Barnacle, it was an accident."

"I see." Barnacle grinned at her. "The only cord that won’t chime is the one that flushes the commode. I used to pull them too, when I first came here. The response time is usually so fast that you wonder if there are secret passageways in this place."

Addison looked at him curiously. "Are there?"

"Aren’t there always?" He winked.

*~*~*~*~

It had been a rough night for Callie. The pain never went away, no matter how strong the narcotics were, it couldn’t erase the agony in her mind. Even when she went to sleep, she hurt, because in her dreams there was alcohol in her hand and she was standing on the ledge of a tall building. Everyone fought valiantly to save her, but Randy stood between them, stopping them from getting too close. It scared her, terrified her, and she kept drinking everything he gave her to take the edge off. And then she was falling, falling, falling and her dream self watched the ground come rushing up with ... relief. She jarred herself awake with a strangled gasp every single time she fell. Someone comforted her each time. Usually Cam, who sat beside the bed in the stiff mauve chair that every private room was equipped with.

Callie didn’t ask for Alex. He wasn’t there and she had little doubt that sanity had finally won and he was at home packing up anything that he had left behind. There was no one to blame but herself, Callie thought, as Cam currently held a straw to her lips and forced her to drink cool water. She had caused her own downfall and orchestrated her own demise. Somewhere behind her, Melana announced that she was going to tell the nurse to bring more pain medication, but Callie said nothing. She didn’t reply when Raphael rubbed her arm or when Loukas asked if she was hungry. Stavros touching her leg forced her to roll onto her side and when the nurse brought in the medication, Callie welcomed the fuzz it added to her troubled brain and pretended to sleep.

Her family was there only because of what happened. They would have already been in Miami had it not been for that. Cam had never, in their entire life, been rough with her unless he was playing and the memory of his hands biting into her arms, of his shouts, his *anger* hurt worse than anything she physically felt at the moment. The same for Raphael. He had used a voice with her that she had only ever heard him use on Stavros and that was because her big brother had cost the family over fifteen million dollars after he ruined a business deal. Melana’s silence after the truth had come out felt like blades against Callie’s skin.

But Alex ... Alex was ashamed of her ... the wife who lied to him, broke her sobriety and that shame prevented him from being there now. He had told her during one of their many heated arguments recently that he couldn’t stomach to look at her ... and he never lied.

The door creaked and Callie’s eyes flew open hopefully. It wasn’t Alex. It was her breakfast tray being brought in. She tried to pretend she was sleeping again, but Cam had seen her and pressed the button to raise the head of the bed. He didn’t bother to ask, he simply unwrapped the fork and held it out to her. She didn’t take it so he lifted her hand and pressed it into her palm, then took the lid off her food, saying, "It’s not negotiable."

The smell turned her stomach and the sight of the runny, watery eggs was enough to have her scrambling to cover the tray again as quickly as she possibly could. "I need to go to the bathroom," she said when the food was hidden.

Cam watched her for a second. "And when you come out ... you’ll eat?"

She nodded and he pulled the rolling table away, leaving it against the wall. He gently tugged the cover off her legs and helped her stand. Callie fought valiantly to hide her discomfort, to keep the pain off her face, but it was impossible. As soon as she put weight on her wounded leg it felt like it was happening all over again. She gritted her teeth and lifted her foot off the floor, reaching for her crutches.

Cam shook his head and easily lifted her. "It hurt your hands to use those last night."

She had no memory of trying and her back and legs ached from where he supported her, but she didn’t remark. It hurt all over. Breathing hurt, moving hurt, thinking hurt ... being hurt. Cam carried her into the bathroom and she noticed that a towel had been hung over the mirror. She didn’t need to wonder why. And no part of her was tempted to see whether or not Randy had kept his promise to destroy her face. She had avoided touching it as well ... because touching it would make it real and so far ... she had managed to convince herself that almost being raped was the least of her problems. She *refused* to acknowledge it had truly happened at all.

She did her business, then felt something flapping against her calf. Moving around the bathroom had caused the tape to break loose from her leg and the bandage was open. She bit her bottom lip when she sat down on the toilet and saw the stitches there. They were nicely done, but the scar would be inevitable. Even Mark, with his capable hands, couldn’t have prevented it.

But she could have.

If only she had fought a little harder ...

She was staring at the wound when someone knocked.

"Cal? You okay?"

It was Alex. The sound of his voice made her forget the pain entirely. He was there! Whether it was obligation or devotion was of little consequence. She hastily pressed against the tape to put it back in place, then cried out when pain laced through her leg. In her haste, she had pressed the tape to the worst of the cut. Alex said her name again, then yanked the door open.

He forced himself to remain impassive, even though seeing her in the stark light of the bathroom was even worse than the previous night. Every inch of her that he could see was bruised, cut, or swollen. He envied Cambyses. He would have loved to be the one to wipe the man who had done it to her off the face of the earth. "Are you -"

"The bandage-"

Alex kneeled in front of her, keeping his hands on his thighs. He peered at the crooked gauze and said, "Can I - is it okay if I -"

"Yeah."

He eased his hand behind her leg and delicately pulled the tape from the wound. When she jumped, he looked up at her. "I’m sorry. I - about everything. I wanted to be here last night, baby, but your mother gave me something that she claimed was a Tylenol because my head was killing me and ... it wasn’t. I fell asleep in the chapel and they put a blanket over me and left me there."

"It’s fine."

"How did you sleep?"

"Not much."

He longed to touch her, but he didn’t think he could handle her pulling away from him again. "Were you in pain or -"

"All over."

"Did they give you something this morning?" he asked.

"Yeah. Can you help me?"

"Always. What do you need?"

"They’re trying to force me to eat. I - I can’t. Not yet. I will, but - I don’t want breakfast." She reached out and flipped his collar down. He was still dressed in his wedding attire, but his tie and jacket had been discarded and his shirt was rolled at the sleeves. "Can you make them stop?"

"You’ll eat lunch?" he asked, the feel of her fingers against his neck filling him with hope.

"I’ll try," she replied. His eyes were puffy, swollen and red. She ran her thumb over the worst of it.

He lightly put his hand over hers, holding it against his cheek. "I’ll have the kitchen send someone to get the tray. Anything else?"

There was so much more she wanted to say. She wanted to apologize, to ask him if he regretted marrying her as much as she thought he did, to beg him not to, to beg him to come home. Instead, she shook her head and the finality of it, of lying to both of them, cut her to the quick. She needed him to hold her, to tell her it would be okay even if they knew better. His shoulder had witnessed many of her tears as she leaned against him for support and she wanted to cry. She wanted to cry for what she had done, what had happened to her, and for the hell of it, but she didn’t move.

Alex got to his feet, startling her, and when he made a move to lift her the same way Cam had done, she instinctively held up her hands, keeping him at bay. "Please ... don’t."

He backed away instantly and sat down on the edge of the tub so that they were eye level. He noted the way her hands shook, the way she avoided his gaze, and took a deep breath. "You can’t ask me to help you halfway, Gothika. Let me in. I know I’m not Cam. I know that I wasn’t there to help you when you needed me the most and I know you’re still pissed at me for everything I said to you, but I’m your husband. And I’m here. And not helping you is killing me so please ... let me."

"You don’t have to."

"I *want* to." He was careful when he lifted her hand in his. "You’re not in this alone. When something happens to you ... I feel it. It happens to me, too. So -"

"I’m sorry ... about drinking. It just -"

"We don’t have to talk about that right now."

She stared into his eyes for a few seconds before she spoke. "I know that you’ve been through hell because of me. I know it’s my fault and ... and you want to leave. I’ll let you leave if that makes you happy, but ... not today. Can you just ... maybe pretend that you’re not going to ... for a while?"

He slipped off the edge of the tub and kneeled down beside her again, this time his hands went to her hips. "Callie, I don’t have to pretend. I love you and I’m not going anywhere. You could drink everything behind the bar at Joe’s and I’m still not budging. I promise you ... I'm here. I'm sorry that it took this to make me realize that *nothing* is worth leaving over."

"At the wedding-"

"I can’t undo what I said to you any more than you can undo the drinking. I can’t change it. I can only say I’m sorry and I didn’t mean it." He took a deep breath as his eyes filled with tears. "I’m not ashamed of you. I’m proud of you. I didn’t know what pride was until I was able to introduce you as my wife. You - you could never shame me, Callie. Never. I’m not gonna lie to you, though. I’m disappointed that you broke your sobriety. I’m sad that it happened and I’m angry that we let ourselves get to the point where you felt like that was an option at all, but I’m not ashamed."

"You don’t have to say tha-"

"Is she okay?" Melana called through the closed door. "Dr. Stevens brought her some fresh pajamas in case she’d like to take a shower."

"Do you want a shower now?" Alex asked.

Callie looked relieved. "Very much."

"Do you want your mom to come in and -"

"Ask Izzie. Or Cristina if she’s here."

"You don’t want me to-"

"No."

Without another word, Alex walked from the bathroom and a moment later, Izzie came in carrying a shopping bag. The blond launched into a story about Halloween decorations that were on sale and then pulled two fluffy towels from the depths of the bag. She laid them on the sink, then produced much better soap and shampoo than the hospital offered. Finally, she grinned at Callie and said, "I know how much you hate pink, but I had to get these for you."

She pulled pink pajamas from the bag and Callie wrinkled her nose until she saw the skulls, roses, and guitars. If you looked past the Pepto Bismol color, they were actually cute. Reaching out, Callie touched the fabric and said, "It’s so soft."

"I have a pair of daffodil ones that I live in." Izzie laid a toothbrush and paste on the sink, then pulled waterproofing tools from the pocket of her lab coat. "We’ll have to bandage your leg a little better. Webber doesn’t want it getting wet."

Callie said nothing as the blond quickly did her job. A memory flashed through Callie mind and she blinked. "You - you ripped your dress and wrapped it around my leg. You were cry-"

"I didn’t like that dress anyway. It made me look like a barn."

"Uhm, Izzie?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you help me with the shower? I - I don’t want Alex to-"

"On it." Izzie pushed the curtain aside and adjusted the taps. When she looked back at the other woman, she put a hand on her shoulder. "It’s not uncommon. To not want your husband or your boyfriend or whatever to be around you after something like this. Because you’re intimate with him. And you think if he sees your body like this then he’ll think of that once the bruises are gone and always remember what happened. You’re hiding it from him to make *him* okay."

"You speaking from experience?"

"No. I watched my mom go through it when I was fourteen."

"I’m sorry."

"You don’t need to be. The water’s ready. Are you?"

Callie let her one time enemy pull her to her feet and untie her gown.

There were tears in Izzie’s eyes when she helped Callie into the shower.

Callie didn’t have to wonder why. She had looked down at her mottled flesh only once.

And it was enough.

*~*~*~*~*~

"She hasn’t cried. Or gotten angry," Stavros said, rubbing his face. Out of the entire Torres family, he was the only one who had gotten any sleep other than Callie. He had dozed upright, sitting in a horrible chair that had no back support, and he could only imagine how everyone else felt. They were running on emotion alone. "Could it be the sedatives?"

"No," Alex replied. "It’s not that strong."

"She’s pretending to be fine for our benefit." Melana leaned her head against Raphael’s shoulder and he put an arm around her. "Alex, is she talking to you? She didn’t really speak to us all night."

Alex shrugged. He was still annoyed that Melana had knocked him out the night before with her happy pill. "A little."

Raphael watched his son in law, weighing his words carefully. "I hate to suggest it, son, but perhaps we should consider rehab."

With a look of undiluted scorn, Alex shook his head. "You want to send her away right now? After this?!"

"Not right away, but eventually. She has a problem, Alex. She has a genuine problem with alcohol and we can’t pretend it doesn’t exist and hope it goes away. She needs treatment and therapy and structure," Raphael told him. "Do you think I want to see her go?"

"I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Being sent into seclusion, away from the people that love you, is not the answer. It’ll just make her feel worse," said Alex. "How can you even consider this?!"

"How can you not?" Raph snapped. "This is her *life* we’re talking about. If going away for a few weeks gives her a new lease on it then it’s worth it."

"What if going away makes her feel like we don’t want to deal with it, Dad?" Cambyses asked. "I say we vote."

"Vote? About your sister’s well being?" Mel asked, disgusted. "It’s not a joke or a -"

"Let’s vote." Getting to his feet, Stavros looked from Loukas to Cam. "All those in favor of sending the baby of the family to an overpriced, horrible clinic in the middle of nowhere that will probably act like she's a prisoner and not let her use the phone unless she cleans the floor with her toothbrush ... raise your hand."

Only Mel and Raph’s hands found the air.

"All those in favor of doing it ourselves?" Stavros added. Callie’s three brothers and her husband raised their hands. Stavros shrugged. "Looks like we’ll be staying in Seattle for a while. Dad, I’m sure you’ll agree that the business can fuck off and die for all we care because some things in life are a little more important."

"Besides," Loukas added when Melana’s claws came out over the swearing. "You pay a staff of highly trained individuals who actually do all the work anyway so it’s not like they’ll miss us."

"Speak for yourself," Cam snapped. "*I* happen to work very hard."

"Since when does playing online Jeopardy count as hard work, jackass?" Stavros demanded. "If all the fake money you had won was real ... you’d be richer than our parents."

"If the piles of blank paperwork that you push around on your desk actually had numbers on them, our parents would probably be a lot richer," Cam shot back.

"Do you really want to go there?" Stavros narrowed his eyes.

"Do you really want to tease the caged animal who just killed a man, Stavros?" Loukas quietly inquired. "Because I don’t advise it. Our baby brother may be the bad ass of the family after all."

The icy look on Cam’s face faded and he started to laugh. "It took killing a piece of shit for you assholes to realize that? Please. I’ve always been bad ass, I’ll always be bad ass and -"

"Is that a rat?" Stavros gasped and pointed at the floor.

Cam emitted a strangled cry and lifted his long legs into the chair, standing up so fast that his head crashed against the ceiling.

"Why did we have children?" Mel rubbed her eyes, exhausted. "Why did we have *these* children?"

"Because someone had to do it," Raphael kissed her temple. Truth be told, he was proud as hell of the men his boys had become with the last ‘vote’.

They would rehabilitate Callie themselves.

They had to.

When their sons left the room in search of food, Melana hugged Alex. "Are you okay?"

"What did you give me last night, Mel?" he said, unable to keep the bite from his voice. "I should have been here!"

"Alex, she couldn’t have handled seeing you like you were. You were beside yourself, making no sense, and -"

"How can anybody make sense right now?" Alex shook his head, then pointed from Raph to Melana. "You two definitely aren’t. Can you imagine what she’d feel like if you told her that you were putting her away somewhere? I can. I can see it. It makes me sick."

Raphael pushed away from the wall and walked closer. "It makes me sick to think that you *left* her for something as trivial as flying and then didn’t see the obvious warning signs that she was breaking again! She’s thin as hell, Alex! And instead of helping her ... you didn’t look back!"

"Stop!" Melana put a hand on her husband’s chest. "He didn’t force her to drink, Raphael."

"He may not have held the bottle, but his actions bought it, Melana. She was doing so well and now she’s back in a hospital bed and we’re here because her *husband* broke her heart." Raphael took another step closer to Alex. "You are nothing like George O’Malley so stop channeling him."

The bathroom door opening silenced Alex’s reply, which he would have regretted anyway. Izzie peered out at them and said, "Alex, can you go and tell the nurse to bring me both medications that Webber ordered, but to bump up the Valium three milligrams?"

"Why?" Alex asked, heading toward the bathroom door. "Is she -"

"Now," Izzie said. "Seriously."

Alex did as requested, but brought the two injections himself when Olivia said it would be a few minutes. He knocked on the door and Izzie opened it a fraction of an inch, holding out her hand. "Thanks."

"Let me in," he demanded.

"Just give me a second." She took the medication from him and disappeared.

"What does it mean? Three milligrams?" Raph asked, joining his son in law.

"It’s a higher dosage of the sedative," Alex replied, leaning his head against the door. He could hear Izzie saying something in a soft voice, but Callie made no sound. "I never meant to hurt her. I swear to God I never dreamed this could happen. Any of it."

Raphael put a hand on Alex's shoulder, tugging him around to face him, then hugged him. "It would appear that you and I share a horrible habit of speaking before we think. My apologies."

Alex started to reply, but Callie made the most horrible, gut twisting sound he’d ever heard and the men pulled apart, both reaching for the door handle at the same time.

Izzie opened it so fast that she hit them both. "Alex-"

He darted past her. Callie was fully dressed in her new pajamas and was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her face in her hands. She sobbed, harsh and loud, and Alex straddled the rim of the tub, pulling her against his chest. He looked at Izzie, who simply pointed at the mirror, which was no longer covered. "Callie?"

"Look at what he did to me!" Callie cried, her face still in her hands. "Why? WHY!? Why did -"

"Shhh, it’s okay."

Callie’s sobs grew harsher still. "I never believed it. I said it couldn’t happen to me. I said it. Alex - I was pissed when my dad put a guard in the woods and ... I even joked that he thought rapists were hiding behind every tree and ..."

"You’re safe now." He kissed her head, rocking slightly. "We’re all here."

"I - I can’t ... breathe. Why did he do this? Why? I - I hate it!"

Izzie pulled the cap off the syringe. Callie had refused it moments before, but she had to try again. Reaching for her arm, she adjusted the IV and injected the valium first, then the pain medication. She knew it burned because Callie’s sobs intensified and the black haired woman reached up a hand to stop her, but Alex caught it. "I’m sorry," Izzie whispered. "She moved the towel before I could stop her."

Alex nodded. Izzie hurried out of the room and he pulled his wife a little closer. It felt like an eternity before she quieted. He welcomed the outburst, though, because it meant that she had accepted it. When she eventually sat up and looked at him, her eyes were glassy. "Can I-" he began.

"I feel it."

"You’re still in pain?"

"No." She shook her head. "For the first time in my life ... I really feel it."

"What do you feel, baby?"

"Fear."

"I’ve got you." He saw her wobble and lunged, catching her before she could fall back. Wordlessly, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Melana quickly jerked the cover down and waited for him to lower her, but he held on for a few seconds, his head against hers. When he finally set her on the bed, she clutched the front of his shirt and said, "I want to go home."

"I think they’re releasing you today. Tomorrow at the latest," he assured her. "That’s what the Chief said last night."

"Stay with me."

Alex didn’t have to be asked twice.

He climbed into the bed beside her and clung to her as she curled into him and fell asleep.

They let her go at six that evening. Chief Webber didn’t want to, but Melana begged him and he caved like a house of cards when she turned her big, brown tear filled eyes on him. He had strict orders about Callie's leg and the medications he was prescribing. Alex signed the paperwork and lifted Callie into the wheelchair while Blake, who had arrived just before three that afternoon, gathered the many get well cards and bouquets of flowers. Callie quietly told her brother’s boyfriend to donate the flowers to other patients.

Dr. Bailey had stopped in on her day off to see how Callie was doing and she cleared the hallway for her friend, warning the staff to make themselves scarce as Callie was wheeled to the elevator and then into the crisp, cool, night where Alex’s SUV had been pulled around by Stavros. Most of the staff, however, had their faces pressed to the glass in the front lobby and they all waved when Callie glanced back at the hospital. She didn’t seem to notice.

Alex climbed into the driver’s seat and smiled at her. "I know you never get tired of hearing it ... so here goes. Put your seatbelt on."

She tried to do just that, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Her muscles protested and she groaned. Stavros, who was riding behind her, reached around the seat and handed it to Alex, who fastened it. "Let’s go home, baby," he told her with a smile.

Alex put the car in drive, his hand resting against the gear shifter.

A moment later, she put hers on top of his and said, "Don’t drive fast."

When they finally pulled into the garage, Callie was shaking. Alex doubted she was cold. The interior of his Mercedes was warm and comfortable and his driving couldn't have startled her. Never, since he had known her, had she ever asked him to not drive fast. She was always the one threatening to take over if he dropped below sixty. He let Cambyses take control of getting her into the house while he confirmed with his mother that she had brought his luggage back home. She nodded and said his clothes were in his closet where they belonged and that she had cooked dinner. She had been out of town with Leon when Alex got in touch with her to let her know what happened and she headed straight back with Leon in tow.


The big bodyguard seemed smaller than usual when he saw Callie’s face. It was just a brief glimpse, but it was enough to sag his shoulders and send him walking back to the guard shack with his head downcast. After talking to Callie briefly, Irene headed to the guard shack as well. Some things just hit a little too close to home for her and she didn’t want her daughter in law to see her fall apart. Irene’s face had looked the same on many, many occasions thanks to Alex’s father and she *understood* why Callie seemed to shy away from anyone seeing her. The black haired woman had not met her gaze once.

Cambyses carried Callie to her bed and smiled at her. "I think I smell lasagna. Do you want me to get your husband to dress as a French Maid and bring it to you on a gold platter or do you want to eat with us?"

"Mostly I want to sleep," she replied, glancing at the closet door which was ajar. Her gaze lingered on it, feeling exposed, like someone was lurking inside to watch her.

Cam followed her gaze and cleared his throat. "Remember when we were kids and I was convinced that there was a monster in the closet? You always came and checked it out so I feel duty bound to return the favor."

She watched as he opened her closet, then Alex’s and flipped the light on in both. Her heart almost stopped completely when she saw that Alex’s things were back in place. Cam shut both doors all the way and walked into the bathroom for good measure. "No ghosts on the coast," he said, using the phrase she had always used at their beach house, which Cam was convinced had spirits in every room.

"Can you make sure someone sets the alarm?"

Cam sat beside her on the bed. "Sure."

"And - check all the doors. I - I think maybe the window in the kitchen is unlatched and - well, there's a screen, but you should check it."

Cam brushed her hair back. Because she had fallen asleep with it wet, she had out of control curls all over her head. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?"

He nodded. "I’m perfectly fine."

Callie looked at the bandage on his cheek. "Is it bad? The cut?"

"It gives me character." Cam shrugged. "I haven’t seen it yet, but Blake did and he told me it was sexy so I guess it adds to the whole criminal mystique I’ve got going now. Just call me The Punisher."

"H - how did you kill him?"

"Well, after he messed up my gorgeous sister and my even more gorgeous face ... I took his knife and thought about shoving it up his ass for two seconds ... but I picked his heart instead. It was pretty hard to find all things considered, but I didn’t miss."

"I’m sorry you had to - that any of it -"

"Do you remember Kevin Salchel? Sixth grade. He beat me up during P.E. and you saw it from the window of your classroom and came running. It took two teachers *and* me to get you off him and his parents sued ours because you broke his nose. *That* Kevin Salchel."

"Oh, right. Oops." A hint of a smile flashed across her face. "Little bastard."

"I told you I’d pay you back one day." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "The cops said that this guy had just been paroled about three weeks ago. He was convicted of assault of battery, attempted rape, and kidnapping when he was nineteen and served fifteen years for it. They said he spent most of his time in jail lifting weights and fooling everybody into believing he was reformed."

"The cops will want to talk to me soon, won’t they?"

"I think Mom told them to come tomorrow. They’ve been hanging around at the hospital."

Melana came into the room carrying a tray of food. She set it on the foot of the bed and told Cambyses to leave. He rolled his eyes heavenward and smirked at Callie, who braced herself for whatever Melana would say to her as Cam complied and left the room. "Mom-"

"I didn’t sleep on the plane flying out. And I didn’t sleep last night either, mi vida." Mel chopped the salad on the tray a little finer. "And I’m exhausted. I want to go to bed, but I can’t do that until I know that you’ve eaten this and -"

Callie reached across the bed and pulled the tray closer, lifting the fork. She took a bite of the salad and chewed slowly. Melana sat down and handed her the knife she had been using to cut the lettuce. Neither spoke for a few minutes. Callie was halfway through the lasagna when her mother cleared her throat. "Calliope?"

"Hmm?"

"Did he - how far did he get with you?"

Wiping her mouth with her napkin, Callie revisited the encounter with Randy, forcing herself to recall every moment of it. She felt his arms around her, the top of her dress being yanked down and calloused hands groping at her flesh, and then ... those same hands trying to move under her dress. "Not too far," she said finally, putting her fork back on the tray.

"Oh, baby, don’t stop eating." Melana pushed her plate a little closer. "We can talk about something else."

"Have you heard from Addison?" Callie asked, lifting the fork again.

"Not yet. Your Uncle Demi said they got there okay and were pleased with the accommodations."

"Don’t tell her anything about what happened."

"She’ll be upset if -"

"She’ll come home and I don’t need anyone else to look at me like I’m ... just don’t tell her."

"Look at you like you’re what, Callie?"

Alex arrived carrying Callie’s prescriptions. Loukas had stopped to get it filled and had just gotten back, grumbling about the wait at the pharmacy. Alex glanced at his wife’s half eaten food, but didn’t comment. Instead, he said, "Are you in any pain?"

"I don’t want that right now," she replied. "I hate the way it feels."

"Okay." He put the bag on the end table and eased down beside her. "Your dad is sound asleep on the sofa. I’m surprised you can’t hear him snoring up here."

And just like that ... with no warning or obvious reason ... Callie burst into tears again.

She took the sedative without complaint after that, but not before she used her crutches to check the windows and doors herself.

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 5
True to his word, Mark groveled enough that Addison got her wedding night on five separate occasions before the sun set on their first day in Greece. She wasn’t sure if it was the newlywed joy that propelled Mark, but whatever it was, she hoped it never faded because sex had never been so good and Mark had never been so hell bent on cuddling afterward. It wasn’t until Addison saw one of the housekeepers using Windex to clean the perfect outline of her ass and Mark’s palms off the glass floor of the balcony that she put a stop to it. She told him that they would not being doing it again until that night ... then promptly repeated their brazen sex on the bathroom counter before they were summoned to dinner.


The first days in Greece flew by. There was so much to see and do. Despite the large staff, they rarely saw any of them as they walked through Bounty’s Keep, learning her many hiding places and secret rooms. They attempted to watch a movie the third day, then decided that walking the grounds would be better. When Barnacle heard their intentions, he had two palomino stallions saddled and waiting for them in the yard. Addison smiled when she saw the one she would be riding. It’s coat matched her bridesmaid dresses. They didn’t stray far from the house, but since the house was so large and the tallest spire could be seen for miles, they went far enough to be sore for two days. Of course, it didn’t help that they had sex on one of the horse’s backs, but they both enjoyed it and the horses didn’t seem to think it was strange at all.

Greece was everything that Melana had promised it would be and after they toured the Parthenon on their fifth day, Addison called Callie’s cell phone again. This time it went straight to voice mail and Addison reminded her friend that she missed her and wanted to hear her voice. She tried Alex’s cell and even Cam’s to no avail. Frustrated, she vented to Mark, who had plenty of ways to take her mind off being homesick. He had her pinned against the wall and was working his way under her skirt when she accidentally kicked over an umbrella stand. The bookcase to her right opened at once and she froze as a gust of cold air lifted her dress for Mark.

"What the hell?" He took a step back, gazing at the hidden passage. "Why do I suddenly feel like a cartoon dog is going to come running out screaming ‘ruh roh’?"

Addison pulled her belt back into place and peered around his shoulder. "You go first."

"Go? Did you just say go?"

"You’re the big bad ... defender of your name or whatever. In the old days the men went first."

"We’re modern, remember? That means that *you* can go first and I can enjoy your ass while you walk in front of me." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Sex in a strange secret passage could be fun."

"Or we could get locked in and never be heard from again. Where’s my cell phone? Do you think they have 911 here?"

"Do you really think you’ll get reception?" He held out his hand to her and took a tentative step toward the door. "Where do you think it goes?"

"Wait. I saw a flashlight in the bureau." Addison rushed across the room and dug the flashlight from the depths of the drawer, flipping it on and shining it in her husband’s eyes for good measure.

"Now I’m seeing spots. How can I protect you if I can’t see you?"

"Will you just go?"

"Sure, send the blind man in first."

The chamber they walked into was narrow and dead ended into Melana’s old room. There was only one way to go and judging by the sloping floor, that way was down. There were torches along the wall that were covered in spiderwebs and none were lit. It felt like walking back in time and Addison freaked herself out when she considered all the people who may have walked the path before her ... and died. Maybe even doing it. She glanced behind her, clinging to the belt loops in the back of Mark’s pants, and promptly stumbled over her feet, getting a face full of spider web for her troubles.

Before she could scream like she wanted, he clapped a hand over her mouth and wrenched her back to her feet. "Shhh, listen."

Addison stopped flailing her hands around her face to remove the web and barely breathed. There were voices up ahead and she gulped. "Let’s go back."

"No. Come on." He took her hand and pulled her along behind him.

They rounded two more corners, still going downward, and then the aroma of food was overpowering and Addison felt her stomach rumble in anticipation. Light spilled through the stone wall and Mark stepped closer, peering through one of the minute cracks that were probably naked to the eye from the other side. "It’s the kitchen," he whispered.

Addison found a sliver of light to peer through and smiled when she saw Willa enjoying the Baclava that the head chef, Saunders, was preparing. She heard the old man admonish the woman and snickered into her palm when he slapped her hand and wagged a long, bony finger in her face. Willa pretended to bite it then clawed at her neck, tugging the turned down collar of her uniform. "I’ll not be sending Melana a care package this year. What was she meaning? Sending us such horrible attire?"

Saunders snorted. "Try wearing this thing?" He pointed at the tall hat perched on his head. "I cook! I don’t need to wear this! The food proves it!"

"Barny’s miserable," Willa replied, then she smiled devilishly and tossed a dish towel at Saunders, knocking his hat off.

The man’s shock of white hair stood up on end and he advanced on the woman, putting his hands on either side of her against the counter. Lowering his head, he kissed her, then stood and said, "Hmmm, perhaps the Baclava is too sweet."

"No, it was perfect," Willa told him, reaching for another.

He smiled as he watched her bite into it. "Then it must be you."

Behind the wall, Addison whispered, "Awwww!"

"I was thinking ‘ew’," Mark said, grabbing her hand as Saunders moved in for another kiss that involved inappropriate touching and the collar of Willa’s uncomfortable uniform being pulled away from her neck.

"I told you that sixty year old sex would turn you off," Addison replied, smiling.

"Watching it turns me off. Doing it is another story."

"Did you have sex with a geriatric already!?"

"She was the hottest old bird you’ve ever seen," he shot back, leading her further and further down the sloping passage.

Voices could be heard periodically and they paused every time to peer out when it was available to gauge their bearings. They passed the blue room, which was being vacuumed and then the library, where two gardeners were arguing over something in a book that dealt with flowers. Barnacle was in the theater, unloading a shipment of new movies, and he was singing at the top of his lungs because of the acoustics. Even the acoustics couldn’t save him however ... his voice was like a dying frog, but the enthusiasm with which it was delivered was infectious.

The tunnel eventually lost all light and sound and relied only on the beam from the flashlight in Mark’s hand. The floor sloped so deeply now that Addison’s toes ached from walking on them in her already high heels. Only the promise of seeing where the passage led kept her quiet, but she made a mental note to wear better shoes when prowling in strange places. The air against her bare legs eventually become icy and she shivered, still clinging to Mark’s pants.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No, Mark. We can only see our breath."

"How can you see *anything*. You’re so far up my ass I’m bowlegged."

"Kinky, Dr. Sloan," she replied. Peering around him, she gasped when she saw a flash of gold light. "Turn it off."

"Turn my ass off?"

"No, goober! The light!" When he didn’t respond right away, she reached around him and flipped the switch, the pointed at the prism of colors just ahead.

He put his arm around her as they moved forward together. The passageway widened and then they stepped under a rock canopy that had crevices all around that spilled sunlight into the cavern. "I hear water," Mark said, walking down the slope.

They realized a moment later that they were standing in a grotto. The sparkling blue water was clear and Addison practically leaped onto her husband’s back when she saw an eel dart out to catch a small fish just below the surface. "Oh my god!"

"Look at that," Mark pointed to the left, where an opening in the rock would allow a large vessel to come through easily. "I think we know why they call it Bounty’s Keep now. I bet this place was the go to hideout for smuggled goods back in the swashbuckling days."

"Clever, but not quite."

Addison and Mark both turned at the sound of the voice. She moved behind him, peering out, hoping that Mark could use the flashlight like a baton if he needed to. The man who stood before them looked like Loukas, Callie’s brother. He had the same unfortunate cowlick in the front of his hair, which was clipped short, and he wore round glasses. "Forgive me," he said, extending his hand to Mark, who clasped it. "I’m Xenos Karakas. I see you’ve discovered one of the servant’s walks."

"We’re sorry," Addison replied. "We weren’t snooping -"

"Please, snoop away. Bounty’s Keep was built for it." Xenos took her hand, kissing it, then pointed at the large opening that had commanded Mark’s attention. "We did act as a hideout for smuggled goods, but we dealt in people ... the best bounty the Lord provides. During the Greek Revolution in the early eighteen hundreds many women and children were smuggled out of the heaviest war zones and brought here. The practice stopped after a ship capsized right about there and the tide came in, drowning over forty of the evacuees. One of the survivors, a woman who lost her only son in the tragedy, is said to have cursed the Karakas name, demanding that we only have sons in our family for retribution. And for the most part ... it stuck. Both Melana and Calliope are untamable spirits and they often run into bad luck. Perhaps it’s happenstance, but our ancestors spoke of the curse with conviction."

Addison felt a new chill rush through her. The sense of foreboding she had experienced where Callie was concerned came rushing back. "What happened to the woman who cursed you?"

Xenos shook his head. "Because of her grief, she was given the grandest of accommodations, but she slept here for only one night. The glass balcony that you have hopefully seen used to be a simple stone ledge. She climbed to the top of it as the sun rose on her second childless day and leapt to her death. For years that ledge was boarded and no one could access it. My grand papa had the glass one built to remind us all that even when it feels like walking on air is possible, you need something there to support you. I believe his design was replicated in your states where the Canyon of Grand is."

Addison smiled. "I think you’re right. I’ve heard about the sky walk there."

"Would you like to see more of the island?" Xenos offered. "My boat is just around the corner. I was taking photographs when I heard your voices. I was on my way upstairs to introduce myself, but the light reflecting off the water caught my eye and demanded to be captured."

"It is beautiful." Mark stepped down off a ledge and reached up, grasping Addison around the waist and lifting her down. He gave her a kiss before he put her back on her feet and smiled shyly at the other man. "Sorry."

"If you don’t enjoy every moment then you’ll die with regret." Xenos winked at him, then led the way around a curved outcropping, reaching behind him to extend his arm to Addison. "Please, ma’am, it’s tedious here."

She clung to the man, letting him held her across a wooden plank. The sparkling white ski boat was a shock in such an untouched and old piece of history, but her feet welcomed the promise of being seated for a while. As soon as the man helped her onto the pristine leather seat, she kicked her shoes off and massaged her feet. Xenos helped Mark in and turned to watch her. "Whoever designed those torture devices called high heels was apparently related to the woman who cursed our family as well. They’ve cursed all women to sore feet. Perhaps when I show you talking rock, you’d like to wade in the healing spring. It’s said to not only cure what physically ails you, but it allegedly gives you insight and a sixth sense as well."

"Have you waded in it?" Addison asked with interest.

"Many times." Xenos didn’t elaborate. He simply started the engine and led them out into the sparkling sunlight, which was blinding after the shelter of the grotto.

Having a tour guide without the tourists was an amazing thing. He was knowledgeable and funny and so engaging that Addison’s sides were aching by the time they docked at Talking Rock. Because there was so much sand, she carried her shoes in her hand and enjoyed the walk from the beach to the old homestead. It was in ruins, mostly a hollow shell, but it captivated her anyway. Her legs felt warm as she dug her toes into the earth and when Xenos suggested that they pose for photos in front of the praying hand rock, she readily agreed. He snapped photo after photo of the two of them, urging them on poses, on how best to use the light.

When they finally made it to the healing spring, Xenos lifted a wooden handled cup and rinsed it, then filled it with the water that was trickling over a small waterfall and held it out. "You’ll never taste anything as pure."

Addison tried it first, her eyes widening. The water was mouth numbing cold and she wondered how it wasn’t frozen. The oddest part, however, was how quickly it warmed her insides. As she watched Mark drink, she could tell that he was experiencing the same thing. Xenos drank last and set the cup back onto its rocky perch. "I’d offer you more," he said, "but greed would cause it to dry up. Please, Addison, you’re already barefoot. Step into the water and see if it helps."

"It’s cold." She shook her head. "I’ll get frostbite."

"Not at all," he replied, reaching down to the touch the shallow water that had been collected in a pond. "It remains a steady eighty eight degrees year round."

"How?" Mark asked, mimicking the other man and touching for himself. "Whoa. Uh, how?"

"When you are specific in your needs and prayers," Xenos stated, glancing skyward, "someone always listens." He extended his hand to Addison and nodded at the pond, watching as she stepped into the water. When she gasped, he squeezed her hand and smiled. "I daresay your feet will not bother you for the remainder of your trip."

She stared down at her wiggling toes. It felt like she was having the best foot massage of her life and none of it made sense. She was a woman of science, a woman of medicine, and water was only ever water ... but *this* water made her believe that anything in the world was possible. She knew that Mark would scoff and not pull his shoes off to try it himself, but Willa had said that they could use the boats and she decided then and there that she’d bring her husband back before they left Greece.

"Close your eyes," Xenos urged. "Close them, breathe deep and tell me what you see."

Addison did as he asked, not missing the amused look on Mark’s face. She breathed in and saw Callie. The smile on her own face fell fast as her heart flipped over and panic raced through her. Her eyes flew open again and she gazed at their host. "I - have you heard from Callie?"

Xenos shook his head. "Why?"

"Because I saw her."

"And how do you feel?"

"Scared." Addison stepped out of the water and pulled her phone from her pocket. She opened it and saw that there was no signal. "Xenos, I hate to ask, but would it be okay to make a long distance call from the main house?"

"Absolutely." Xenos looked from Addison to the water, which was still rippling from her hasty exit. "Perhaps you’d like to make that call right now."

"I would."

Mark waited until they were situated on the boat again to lean against her and say, "Okay, now you’re the old fashioned one. Tell me you don’t believe in healing water or visions or whatever."

"What I believe is that something’s wrong with Callie. I’ve been feeling it since before we even left the airport and no one is answering my calls."

*~*~*~*~

Just as Cambyses had predicted, the police arrived on Callie’s first morning home and demanded to speak with her. She sat on the sofa and answered their questions honestly. When they asked her if she had ever seen Randall ‘Randy’ McFry before the day of the attack, she confirmed that she had and confessed that he had bought her a drink at Ray’s Steakhouse. Beside her, she saw Alex’s jaw tighten and hastily added that she had not spoken with him or acknowledged him beyond a tilt of her head, but he had remembered her and approached her at the wedding because of that. She found her receipt for dinner in her purse and gave them the server’s name who had assisted her that night so that she could confirm Callie’s story if need be.

The police officer’s waved the notion away, saying that several women had come forward after the news story about Randy’s death with a similar tale. Apparently, since his parole, McFry had been buying drinks for many women in the hopes of earning their trust. The victim he had attacked at nineteen had fallen prey to the same method of operation, accepting dinner and then making the mistake of getting into his car. The officers asked tough questions about the attack, about what led up to it, and then assured Callie that her statement was the final piece needed to close the case entirely. Randall McFry, they said, would stay dead and buried and bother no one again.

Reliving it took its toll on Callie and once again, she fell apart. Alex alone knew how horribly she had slept the previous night. Any time the house creaked from settling or someone walked down the hallway to the bathroom, she sat upright and gripped his arm. More often than not, she remained in a sitting position until there wasn’t a sound, and only then would she curl up in his arms, her hand fisted in the front of his shirt. When they awoke that morning, she was dripping with sweat and her pillow was drenched with tears. Alex had offered to help her into the shower, but she dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. Cristina and Burke visited that night and it was Cristina who helped her bathe and change into fresh pajamas and Cristina who appeared nightly to repeat the task.

As the week progressed, Callie began to lapse into longer and longer periods of silence, allowing only Gucci, Melana’s service monkey, to touch her. She would sit quietly on the bench in the sunroom connected to the master bedroom, with her back pressed firmly into the corner and stare out at Whisper Cove for hours, while Gucci tried to touch every bruise and scratch. When Cam asked her why she wanted to sit there, she said that it let her see anything that may be coming. He told her the only things in the woods were birds and probably rats, but she didn’t budge. She sat. She watched. And she waited ... for what, no one was sure, but the fact that she gazed, unblinking it seemed at times, appeared to be in anticipation. Or dread. And every night she checked the doors, window, and alarm ... and she made sure that the flood lights outside were on at all times.

The fifth day after the attack found Callie once again sitting in the sunroom, gazing out at the bright horizon while she rolled Gucci’s marble on the floor. The capuchin monkey raced back and forth for it, returning to stand before Callie and hold it out in his palm. Melana sat beside her with a cup of coffee in her hand. Somewhere in the house a phone rang and Callie jumped, dropping her own cup into the floor. It was thankfully empty and didn’t shatter, but Mel shattered enough to make up for it when Gucci lifted the cup, tugged Callie’s robe, and held it up to her. She began to cry when she saw her daughter’s wild eyed expression and as valiantly as Melana tried to control herself, should couldn’t. Callie didn’t look at her, she simply reached over and took her hand. "Do you think this will stop. One day?"

"What? Will what stop?" Melana asked, her voice trembling as hard as her chin.

"I forgot what it feels like to be okay ... to feel calm or at ease." Callie shook her head, lifting Gucci into her lap. "He didn’t rape me, Mom. He killed me. I’m gone. I feel like I’m not here anymore and ... I’m a stranger in my own skin. I don’t even look like me anymore."

"You look the same to me." Melana put an arm around her. It was a lie. The redness in Callie’s eye had not gone away and neither had the bruises. They were still just as shocking, just as painful to look at as they had been the first night. And while they would eventually fade, everyone knew that they were indelibly inked like a regrettable tattoo on the souls of everyone who had seen them. Especially Callie. "And there will come a day where you will bury this pain and it will only haunt you when you let it. Time does that, honey. It does."

Cambyses walked into the sunroom, took one look at his mother, and sat beside her, hugging her. "Addison called again. That’s the fourth one this morning. She said they’re coming home if she doesn’t get to talk to Callie soon. She knows that something’s up and ... well, we should either tell her or -"

"No." Callie shook her head and Gucci burrowed against her, flopping onto his back and stretching out. She watched the little primate put his marble in the pocket of his overalls, then he closed his eyes, boneless and exhausted from playing all morning. "I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her I’m fine and ... I’ll make her believe it."

"She would want to be here, Callie. You know she would," Cam stated.

"She’s the only person," Callie said, her eyes filling with tears, "who doesn’t know what I did. She has no clue that I had anything to drink and the moment she comes home she’s going to find out and she’s going to be as upset as everyone else. I need to know that there’s someone still out there who isn’t disappointed in me ... because right now she’s not and I need her to not be for a little while longer."

Cam watched her wipe the tears off her face before he spoke. "I’m not disappointed."

"Yeah, right," Callie replied with a sniffle.

"You know what the great thing is about our family?" Melana asked, pulling her a little closer. "We’re all too damn temperamental, except me and when my temper flares up there’s a good reason behind it, but all of our tantrums are usually like a match. They fire up and burn out so fast that they’ve come and gone in the blink of an eye."

"Mom," Cam interjected. "Your temper tantrums can, on occasion, last for weeks. Or in my gay case ... for years."

"Shut up before I drown you in the hot tub," Mel told him. "The point that I am making is that we run the gamut of emotions with each other. We get angry, sad, annoyed and yes, Calliope, disappointed, but all of that is consumed by an even bigger flame. Our love. That’s the only torch you can’t put out and the only fire that will rage for an eternity. And it’s that love that makes what you did by drinking again seem very small in the grand scheme of things."

"Daaaaamn," Cam said, impressed. "Mama’s got mad wisdom, yo."

"Did you just say ‘yo’," Callie asked. "Are you Gothic or gangster? You can’t pull them both off, Cambyses."

"I’m *gay*. And apparently I can get away with murder."

Callie belly laughed. It was a sweet, tinkling sound that dried Melana’s tears instantly and filled her with a renewed hope that time was already working wonders on her daughter’s pain.

Raphael and Alex, who had been listening just inside the bedroom door, looked at each other and grinned. In a low voice, Alex said, "Have you ever heard anything better?"

"Her first cry," Raphael replied. "But this is a close second."

*~*~*~*~*~

"Hello?" Addison said, her voice full of exasperation as she picked up the phone in the blue sitting room. "Calliope Iphigenia Karev, is that you?!"

"Oooh, full name service. I’m in trouble," Callie replied, working hard to sound upbeat and playful. "Do you love Bounty’s Keep?"

"Where have you been? It’s been *five* days and I’ve left twice that many messages for you. Something happened, didn’t it?"

"Naturally. I have the worst luck. I’m fine so don’t freak out ... I went head first down the stairs at the church and ... it’s your fault because of those idiotic shoes you made us wear ... but I’m okay. Nothing’s broken, but I did get a nice big prescription of hydromorphone for the trouble so I’m home recovering and being high."

"Why would you need something that strong after a fall?"

"Did you *see* the staircase at the church? It was so tall that I exhausted my entire library of swear words by the time I landed at the bottom."

"Are you lying to me?"

"Addison, are you going to spill the beans about your honeymoon or what!? How long did it take you guys to enjoy the glass balcony?"

"What makes you think we did that?!" Addison cried. "Okay, fine, maybe two hours."

"The glass will capture *everything* so take something to wipe your imprint off or everyone will know."

"*Now* you tell me. Yeah, I found that out the hard way. And how do *you* know!?"

"Have you met Eros yet?"

"Eros? Wait, the masseuse? The one with the six pack that’s more like a twelve, the butt that you could bounce a quarter off of and the magic fingers that rubbed all the tension from my body? That Eros?"

"That’s the one." Callie chuckled. "Tell him I said ‘hi’."

"Oh my god! You slept with the hired help!? How *old* were you?"

"Too young too care. Are you having fun?"

"Your uncles are fantastic! Xenos took me to the healing spring and let me get in."

"Were you hurt?" Callie asked, concerned.

"My feet were. I walked through the secret passageway in high heels. And the grotto? Amazing."

"There are tons of eels in there so don’t go skinny dipping. Mark’s dangly parts may not dangle so prettily if you do."

"Like *anything* could make *that* ugly." Addison laughed when her friend groaned. "As much as I love it here ... I can’t wait to come home. I miss you. How are things with Alex?"

"Better," Callie told her, glancing at Alex who was sitting nearby talking to Cam.

"I bet you’re having more sex than me and that’s saying something."

"High as a kite, remember?"

"Oh, right. Are you mangled?"

"You could say that." With a sigh that caused her ribs to ache, Callie added, "And I miss you, too, by the way. Maybe when you get back we can take a long weekend and get the hell out of town. I need it."

"Count me in. Listen, Demi just got here. He was either flying us to Egypt tonight or the airstrip to come home. I was heading back to the states because I was so worried about you. Do you know ... when I waded in the healing spring ... I saw you."

Callie swallowed back the lump in her throat. "Maybe you were sending me a little healing, too. Tell Uncle Xenos to send me some of the water, okay? I’ll add it to my bath and see if it helps."

"I’ll get it myself," Addison told her. "We’re going back tomorrow."

"That’s *hallowed* ground, Addison. *Hallowed*. Try not to bring any of it across the water in your ass crack. Do *not* have sex there."

"Why not?"

"Because it’s very *fertile* land and every seed that gets planted there multiplies."

"Huh?"

"Just don’t do it."

"You’re a freak." Addison chuckled. "Happy Birthday, by the way. It’s already the thirty first here. Your present should arrive tomorrow. I’m there in spirit, okay?"

"You’re damn right you are," Callie replied. "I love you."

"I love you back. See ya soon."

They said their goodbyes and hung up. In Greece, Addison clapped her hands together and announced that Callie was fine, grabbed her bag, and headed to the helicopter that was waiting in the yard.

In Seattle, everyone watched as Callie got to her feet and gingerly walked out of the room. Cambyses shook his head and said, "She’s a good actress. Too damn good."

Alex nodded as Raphael followed after Callie, then he crossed his arms over his chest. "Who the hell is Eros?"

"First guy she ever slept with," Cam replied. "He worked for our uncle and -"

"WHAT!?" Melana screeched, rushing out of the kitchen like a mad woman. "She - he - are you - Eros!?"

"She was nineteen, Mother," Stavros interjected. "But believe me, when I looked up and saw them on the glass balcony ... I made him pay. I kicked his ass every single time I caught them after that."

"More than once!?" Melana crossed herself, praying in Greek. When she was finished, she glared at her children, including Blake and Alex. "Is it so difficult to abstain before marriage? Is it? Really?"

"Well, it is for me," Cam told her. "I can’t *get* married. Still gay and all."

"And really, Mom," Loukas, who was usually so quiet that you never knew he was there, said. "If Callie had waited until marriage ... her first encounter with sex would have been George O’Malley and ... that may have turned *her* gay or forced her into celibacy."

"And Eros? So hot," Blake cut in. "So, so hot."

"Watch it," Cambyses replied, then narrowed his eyes. "You didn’t really have back pain in Greece, did you? You were faking so he’d keep giving you massages and - I have a thirst for killing now, Blake. Don’t go there."

Blake laughed. "I’ll behave, Murder One."

"Do not joke about that!" Melana chided. "Even though the dead man is a son of a bitching asshole who not only had it coming ... but should have clung to life a little while longer to let *me* smother him with a pillow ... soaked in acid."

Alex watched Mel walk back into the kitchen with a new sense of wonder and awe where she was concerned. That faded when he looked back at the others. "But why does this Eros guy still work there?" he said. "I mean, he clearly took advantage of a young, naive girl and -"

"Oh my god, Alex. Did you have to take advantage of my sister?" Cam asked.

Alex turned bright red as he thought back to their first sexual encounter. They had argued on Goon Docks about whether or not she was ready for a relationship with him and she had taken control, leading him to the hot tub where she not only called the shots, she rocked his world harder than any woman ever had before.

"Yeah," Cam added, smirking when Alex looked at the floor. "I can see that you see my point."

"And don’t think anything of her telling Addison to say hello," Blake suggested. "Because I have called more than once to do just that."

Cambyses shot to his feet, rushing after Blake who flew out the front door screaming with laughter.

*~

The Great Pyramids of Egypt were so impressive that there were simply no words to describe it. Viewing them in silence seemed to be the best thing anyway because the lump in Addison’s throat ... for reasons she didn’t fully understand ... made it impossible to talk. Mark was also in awe and simply clung to her hand, trying to see everything at once. They had only set aside one full day to spend in Egypt, but two nights, having arrived the night before. Halloween at the Giza Plateau was amazing and Addison took photos of Mark in front of the most impressive pyramid and sent Callie a happy birthday greeting via cell phone.

Demi had work to attend with the Karakas Enterprise branch in Cairo and did not join them for the day so Addison and Mark soaked in so much culture that they were exhausted for the ride back to Greece. That night, they showered together, watching as the water turned red from the pyramid sand. Addison chuckled and told Mark what Callie had said about bringing sand back from Talking Rock in her ass crack. He decided that they would try to do just that the following day.

After they were clean, they retired to the bedroom where they both lay exhausted. They looked at one another for a while, then Addison laughed. "I can’t have sex tonight. That camel ride? Horrible."

"Tell me about it. I think I’m chafed."

"What the hell will we do until we fall asleep?"

Mark smiled at her. "We could *talk*."

"I’m not talking about my last name again."

"Okay," he replied. "Then we could talk about the fact that I moved the lamp while you were drying your hair and that little painting right there opened up to reveal a vault with no lock."

Addison looked behind her where he indicated and gasped when she saw that the framed painting was slightly ajar. "Intriguing."

"What’s intriguing is that there are two books inside and a ton of letters."

"To who?"

"Melana. From Raphael."

"You read them?!"

"You don’t have that much hair, baby. No, I didn’t read them. I read the front of the top envelope."

Addison pushed herself upright in the bed. "Maybe we should take them to her when we go back."

"If she wanted them she’d have them. The two books look like diaries."

"Should we look?"

"Should we look at the private, personal diary of the woman who has welcomed us into her family, paid for our honeymoon, and invited us to stay at her family home?" He looked stern, then nodded. "Yes, I think we should. She’s a mystery, you know? I’m interested."

"I was so hoping you’d say that!" Addison hopped to her feet and pulled the painting all the way open, then scooped up the diaries and the letters. She climbed back onto the bed and opened the first book, then the second. "Melana Eileen Karakas, age sixteen. The only one is seventeen."

"Read the first page and if it’s too personal then we’ll put it back."

Addison picked up her glasses from the nightstand and slipped them on, turning the yellowed page. "Dear Diary, today I turned sixteen. You, with your shiny leather jacket and gold trimmed pages, were a gift from Grandmama and I was so eager to fill your pages that I’ve left my party early and have hidden away in the grotto to do just that. No one lets me talk without judgment, but you, Diary, will do just that.

"My papa could not make it to my party again. I think sometimes that I’ve forgotten what he looks like, but every time he reappears my heart knows him well. Mother says that we mustn’t complain because Papa’s work is important and affords us luxuries that most people envy. I don’t want to be envied. I simply want my father home.

"My party was a somber affair so I do not regret my hasty exit. Xenos is sick again and enjoyed the festivities from his wheel chair. They bled him again only three nights ago. Mother says that Xeno must have been touched by the Angel of Life because nothing can kill him. He should have died at birth according to her and sometimes, when his body won’t let him run and play with us, I think perhaps he wishes that he had. But Xeno came here for me, I’ve little doubt. He’s my twin ... only he was born two years later than me.

"I saw a young man today at the market. He had kind eyes, but they were sad. I do not think he is from Greece because Mother told him to move out of the way in Greek and he only smiled and stood his ground. He smiled at me as well and I spoke to him in English, but Mother tugged me away from him and then yelled at me in the car until I was certain her spleen would rupture. She vented it that well. Never talk to strangers, she said and I asked how a person could make friends if they never speak to the souls they’ve yet to meet.

"Most people don’t have a cane taken to their legs for their smart mouth before their birthday party, but God made the exception for me. Mother says that my tongue will prevent me from gaining entrance to Heaven and I must confess that if logic is frowned upon by our Lord and Savior then I’d just as soon spend my eternity delivering coal to other unfortunate sinners in the pits of Hell. Perhaps ... I’ll unseat Lucifer and reorganize things. A woman Devil could truly tempt herself back into the Lord’s good graces.

"Alas, it has now gotten cold and I’ve no more bread to feed the eels so I’ll return upstairs and see if there is anything left to eat. Sometimes being the only girl in the family is not an easy thing. My brothers attack the dinner table like vultures on a carcass and you risk death trying to get into the mix. So, for now, Diary, goodnight. I feel we will be the best of friends." Addison put a hand against her chest. "She was lonely! She was lonely in a family of *nine*. That is so sad!"

"Read the next page. Same rules apply. If it gets to be too much we’ll stop."

Addison flipped the page and cleared her throat. "This is about a week later. Dear Diary, I’m afraid that you were kidnapped and held hostage by Demi, but you seem to have weathered the unfortunate attack like a true champion. Although, the scratch on your spine ensured that Demi did not far quite so well. I’m certain he’ll have a bruise the size of my foot on his backside for quite a few days.

"Papa came home! He was tired and surly as an old bear, but he lifted me into the air, spun me around, and gave me the most glorious easel and paint set that a person could ask for. I spent hours painting and then went to the orchard so that I could paint the fruit trees. We had a thief! The intruder didn’t seem to realize that I was there to witness his dubious crime so when I bounced the first rock off his forehead, he stood there like a lecher with juice from our oranges running down his chin and he had the audacity to throw what was left of the mangled orange at ME!

"My goodness, I lifted up my skirt and dashed right at him. The biggest canvas that Papa bought me was smashed over his head and I tried very hard to poke him in the eye with my paintbrush, but he left running and I tripped over my own anger in my haste to pursue him. I’m quite certain he won’t be back, but just in case, I shall paint the trees for many days, not matter how boring it becomes when they only sit there and occasionally drop fruit to the ground." Addison laughed. "Poor guy."

"Keep going." Mark had rolled onto his side and was waiting for her to continue. "Wait, do girls really write in diaries and shit?"

"Some do."

"We’re giving our daughter one as soon as she can spell. I want to know *everything*." He pointed at the diary. "More."

"Dear Diary, of all the nerve! I have seen many bold things in my family, the most notorious being the night that Demitri told my father to step into the front yard for a beating. It was bold and very nearly deadly because Demi walked out, crawled back in after the fight, and slept at the foot of the stairs because he was too sore to climb them. I’m quite certain that our thief has taken just as much leave of his senses.

"He was standing in the orchard just as pretty as you please when I arrived. I realized, when he wasn’t caught in the act of thievery, that I recognized him. He’s the man from the market and his eyes were no longer sad today. They were amused and she pompously showed me a large orange that he dug from his pocket, then tossed it into the air. Well, you can rest assured that I warned him to drop it. I didn’t just warn him, I issued a threat that would make my father break a cane on me if he could have heard my choice of words.

"The good for nothing fruit fly told me in an American accent that, I confess, was charming ... that he was a baseball fan. And to prove his point, he tossed the orange at me like a baseball. My heavens, I thought it would strike me and I would have been forced to kill him, however, it landed just shy of me and he said he had purchased it at the market to replace the one had stolen. Of course I didn’t believe him and said that he could have stolen it from our tree as well and the bold, ridiculous thing said that the fruit from the market was a million times better and then he left me standing there with my mouth agape for so long that a gnat flew into it.

"I plan on going to the orchard again tomorrow armed with Demi’s slingshot. I know that I’m sixteen and can no longer prance around like the boys, but I’m still the best tree climber and I’ll set a trap for him. Not only did he dare steal our oranges ... he insulted them as well. For that, he needs to bleed and I shall bounce a rock from his mouth to make it happen."

Mark was cackling with glee. The next few entries said nothing much. Melana had gotten into trouble for stealing bread to feed the eels and was prevented from going to the orchard or painting. She spoke at length about being forced to join the cooks and housekeepers with their daily tasks, but she used her kitchen time to make more bread for the eels and enjoyed learning a few recipes she had never cooked before. Fourteen short entries and days later, the mysterious man appeared again.

"Dear Diary, Mother specifically sent me to the orchard today to gather lemons for fresh lemonade. Xenos loves it and since he doesn’t eat much or ask for much, we make sure he has his lemonade. I was gathering the citrus in a basket when a snake dropped out of the tree. It was large and sinewy, all muscle and mouth, and I screamed to the Heavens when it struck at my legs. I knew it was only an egg snake, but employing Papa’s mentality of *all* snakes being poisonous adders has never failed me so I convinced myself that it was indeed the dreaded killer and shimmied up the tree it had just fallen from.

"My fear prevented me from thinking clearly because a moment later, the snake was slithering up behind me and I knew that I was about to leap to my death, but I jumped anyway. And wonder of wonders, the thief appears to have an affinity for lemons as well because he was lurking under the tree and I landed on top of him. I fared quite well, but he was less fortunate. My knee did what I had intended the sling shot to do and he bled profusely on my skirt and his shirt, but he didn’t seem overly concerned because he took it upon himself to pat nearly every inch of me while asking if I was hurt.

"Never in my life has anyone taken such liberties with me and when he gripped my ankle, I slapped him across the face. He proclaimed that I was apparently uninjured and assisted me to my feet and began gathering my lemons for me. I was too shocked to thank him when he handed me my basket and bowed. I knew that I should have returned to the house straightaway, but I followed along behind him that ugly, mangy dog followed Xenos home last week. He told me that his name is Raphael and he’s living in the woods like a gypsy for the time being.

"My goodness that was a big of intrigue. He would not tell me why he’s there or what brings him to Greece, but he assured me that he would not be back on our land. I don’t know why it upset me to think I’ll never see him again, but it did. So, because I’m now in trouble for bringing the lemons home so late ... I’ll have to sneak out to visit the woods in search of his elusive campsite. I forgot to thank him for breaking my fall. Yes, that’s what I must do."

"It’s Raphael!" Mark exclaimed, sitting up as well. "Did you keep a diary of how we met? Because this is incredible."

"No, Mark. I did not write about the way Derek introduced us and you puked on our clasped hands."

"Right. There was that." He took the diary and flipped to the next entry. "Dear Diary, I overheard Jonesy, the cook, saying that Xenos will die if he isn’t submerged in the healing spring at Talking Rock. My mother refuses to allow him to go. She says that it will fill Xeno with false hope and shake his faith in God if nothing happens. She thinks it’s a Heathen custom, but I don’t agree. I think that hope feeds the soul and bandages the heart so Demi and I are going to kidnap him and take across the water.

"I’ve been praying especially hard as we make plans to do this. So devout is my conviction that I have abstained from searching out that troublesome Raphael, though he has retaliated by plaguing my dreams. I dreamed of his rough, gravely voice last night. It’s even deeper than Papa’s and I used to love falling asleep on Papa’s chest as he read from the Bible. Xenos commands all of my attention at the moment.

"Willa, Jonesy’s daughter, is going to act as our watchman tonight while we load Xenos into the boat and row him to, what I hope, will be his salvation. We haven’t told him much, but I think he knows enough to be excited. He ate two helpings of stew tonight and smiled even though that much food must have hurt his unstable belly." Mark frowned. "It ended there and ... the pen was apparently dropped on the page."

Addison looked impatient. "Can you flip the ink blotted page and carry on?"

Mark complied, checking the date. "This is a full month later. Dear Diary, we flipped the boat before we got to Talking Rock and Xenos very nearly drowned. The water was frigid and his poor, frail body wouldn’t let him swim to safety. I helped keep him afloat until Demi could fetch the boat for us. It was upside down and no matter how Demi tried, he couldn’t right it. We finally worked together to get Xen onto the boat and he was breathing so hard and shivering so much that I cried enough to warm the water for Demi and myself, but it didn’t really work.

"We paddled and paddled to no avail because the current kept taking us further away from home, but no closer to land. Willa finally used the telescope and saw us in the moonlight when we didn’t appear at the appointed time. Her screams awoke the entire family and even in the inlet, we could hear it echoing loud and clear. Papa came to retrieve us and the tongue lashing we received was only slightly less painful than the lashing he delivered with his belt.

"As I lay sobbing in the bed that morning, I was grateful that my body was still so numb because Papa had swung his belt wildly in his rage and left me bruised from my thighs to my shoulder blades. Demi begged to take my lashes as well, but Papa was enraged and said that if I was going to behave like one of his sons then I could accept the consequences. I was abed for close to a week because I physically couldn’t move. Xenos suffered no ill side effects, however, and for that I would take another beating.

"Papa finally came into my room on the seventh day of my self imposed exile and he gathered me into his arms and cried his apologies. I told him I harbored no ill will and understood that we had frightened him and risked harming Xenos, but our intentions had been pure enough. He clung to me for a long while and promised me that he would never lift a hand to me in anger again. Considering my penchant for vexing him to delirium I don’t think that is a promise he will keep, but I loved hearing his vow anyway."

"Oh my god." Addison shook her head. "He beat her."

"Addy, this is a long time before spanking was considered bad."

"Spanking!? He hurt her so much she had to stay in bed!"

Mark yawned and handed her the diary again. "Put it in the drawer. I’m exhausted. We’ll read more tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!? But -"

"Baby, we already know the ending. It’s a great ending. And we’ve got time."

She reluctantly opened the drawer and put the diaries and letters inside, then she burrowed under the cover and watched him flip off the lamp. "I think I’ll start a diary when we get home. You know ... for our kids."

"Plural?"

"Plural."

"Let’s practice."

She cackled with glee when he leaped on top of her.

She didn’t think he was tired any more.

*~*~*~*~*
CH 6
*~*~*~*~*~

Cambyses awoke in a cold sweat. He sat up, breathing hard, running his hand through his damp hair. Blake wasn’t there and the smell of breakfast cooking explained why. It suited Cam just fine to be alone. He didn’t want anyone to see the tears on his face or hear him apologizing to a man who could no longer hear him. Killing Randall McFry shouldn’t have affected him, but every night the dreams became more intense and the memory haunted his waking hours. Callie wasn’t the only one who was a great actor.

There was a soft knock at the door and he wiped his face just in time for his twin sister to walk in. She carried a box wrapped in Barbie paper and she opened her mouth to speak, but she didn’t. Instead, the smile faded from her face and she crossed the room in silence and sat beside him, putting the gift beside her. Cam reached out and took her hand, examining her swollen fingers in the morning light.

Callie bit her bottom lip as she watched him. She didn’t have to ask what was wrong. "I dream about it. Every time I go to sleep."

His brown eyes met her matching ones. "You do?"

"I do. And every time ... I’m the one who kills him. *I* kill him, Cambyses, and you don’t carry the weight of it. It’s not really a nightmare when it happens that way. But you suffering ... that is."

"Get out of my head," he replied, stroking his thumb over a bruise on her wrist.

"I’ve been in there since before birth. You can’t fool me." She watched as he wiped at his eyes. "The first time I ever lost a patient on my own ... I shrugged and said it was part of the job and then I hid in a linen closet for the rest of my shift so no one could see me cry. Chief Webber found me and told me that a doctor can’t save everyone. He said that some people die so that others can live, but I don’t think it’s just doctor’s who -"

"Callie, it completely different and -"

"It must have been two for one day, Cam. I mean, you saved Derek and you saved me, but to do that ... you had to remove the threat." Callie’s voice broke. "I’m sorry it happened. I am, but I’m not sorry that I’m still here ... and I don’t think I’d feel that way if you hadn’t killed him. Because I really think if he was alive ... I wouldn’t want to be and I do want to be."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Put a bandaid on my soul." He gave her a one armed hug.

"Because putting one on yours ... puts one on mine." She laid her head against his shoulder. "You didn’t kill a man, Cambyses. You killed a monster. Don’t you dare lose one wink of sleep over it."

"Let’s make a deal," he replied. "I’ll get plenty of beauty sleep if you look me in the eye and promise me that you’re never gonna drink again. I need you to wake up and see what you stand to lose."

Sitting up, Callie lifted her chin and met his gaze. "I can look you in the eye and tell you that I don’t *want* to drink again. I don’t *plan* to. And I *promise* you ... I’m wide awake. I’m not living the dream anymore. I know what can hurt me now and I won’t ever forget."

"Alcohol can hurt you, Cal. Your liver -"

"I know." She lifted his birthday present into her lap and said, "I also know that you’ve wanted one of these forever. Happy birthday."

He stared at the pink package, his nose wrinkled. "Dear God, Callie, why? Why Barbie?"

"You used to steal mine all the time."

"Why do you think I’m gay? If that’s what women are supposed to look like, I’d rather have Ken." He took the box and shook it, then leaned over and pulled Callie’s present from under the bed. Holding it out, he said, "Notice how I wrapped it in something *nice*."

"I notice how Blake wrapped it in something nice." She kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"Open it before you thank me."

"Open yours, ass."

They opened their gifts together. Callie had given Cambyses a silver ring that read ‘I made a wish’ on the outside. ‘And you came’, was inscribed inside. He had given her a silver bracelet that said, ‘Not all who wander are lost’. They smiled when the put their respective pieces on. Cam lifted his fist, Callie did the same.

"Wonder twin power. Activate!" they said simultaneously.

"Are you two still doing that!?" Melana asked, watching from the doorway. She carried two cups of coffee and smiled when she crossed the room. She kissed Callie, then Cam, and held out the cups. "I think you’ll find that I have prepared that exactly the way you each like it."

Callie sipped from the cup Mel had handed her and grimaced. Beside her, Cambyses did the same. They exchanged cups, sipped again, and nodded. Melana crossed her arms over her chest. "Happy birthday, heathens. Brunch will be ready soon."

"Brunch?" Cam asked. "I smell bacon."

"I smell lazy," Mel replied, tapping her watch. "I didn’t think you two would ever wake up. Blake and Alex have gone into town to get more firewood. It’s supposed to be incredibly cold tonight."

"Where’s Dad?" Callie asked, getting to her feet.

"In the living room. Is everything okay?" Mel asked, watching Callie closely.

With a nod, Callie kissed Cam, then her mother, and left the room. She found Raphael arguing politics with Stavros, who greeted her with a boisterous rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. Loukas gave her a hug and punched Stavros in the arm for not being able to sing on key. Callie simply shook her head when Raphael hugged her. "Can I talk to you?" she asked.

"Sure," Raph replied.

"In private."

"Let’s go outside. There’s a fire going on the patio. The boys were out here earlier." He opened the door and waited for her to join him.

Callie gazed at the wide open space of the backyard. She would be completely exposed, out in the open. She had not stepped a single foot outdoors since she had come home and as she glanced at the grass, she remembered the way the ground in the courtyard of the church had felt biting into her exposed arms. "Dad-"

"I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe with me. And it’s a beautiful morning." He held out his hand. Melana had asked him to convince their daughter to get some fresh air and that’s what he would do. "Come on now."

She put her hand in his and stepped onto the back patio. The wind whipped her hair and she inhaled the salty smell of the water as she glanced left and right, trying to see every hiding place, every nook that could hold a person. Her father pulled out the wrought iron chair, causing it to scrape against the cement and she gasped, putting a hand against her chest. Raphael apologized, took her elbow, and guided her into the seat. Callie looked behind her three times before he could pull out his own chair.

"What’s on your mind?" he asked, covering her hand with his. He watched her put her coffee cup down and frowned when he saw that it was almost full and still steaming. She hadn’t been eating or drinking much.

"Cam’s not okay," she replied.

"I take it the reality has hit him?"

"Major league."

"I knew it would." Raph sipped his own coffee. "I’ll talk to him, kitten."

"Thanks."

He reached out and tilted her chin. Years of training had taught him how to keep his emotions off his face. It was hard work, however, because he wanted to cry every time he looked at hers. "Are you okay?"

"Not really."

"I didn’t hear you pacing the hallway last night to check the doors and windows."

"Alex took a page out of Mom’s book and did a bait and switch with my pills." She decided that she hated the way people looked at her. Her father couldn’t take his eyes off the bruises and she hated it. She felt unseen, like the bruises were all that mattered. "Can you hire someone to install security cameras?"

Raphael’s eyes widened. "Sure."

"And a fence?"

"And a fence," he agreed. "Consider it done. I’ll have someone out tomorrow."

She wrapped her hands around her cup. "I didn’t pay attention when we moved in. Is the alarm system in the house a good one?"

"Top of the line. How are you and Alex? Is he being ... helpful?"

"Helpful?"

"Is he taking care of you, Mija?"

"Sure," Callie told him. "He always does."

"Not always. He hurt you."

"I hurt him first."

"Either way, I heard some of what he said to you at the wedding and I didn’t approve. I may or may not have come very close to gutting him at the hospital. It was like the George thing all over again."

"I’m attached to this one, Daddy. Don’t scare him off."

"Like I could," Raphael chuckled. "Every father wants the best for his little girl. Alex still has a few kinks that I’d like to iron out with my boot, but I believe he loves you."

"I know he does."

With a twinkle in his eye, Raph rubbed the side of her face. "If you know he does then why are you keeping him at arm’s length? You don’t let him in. You rely on Cristina more than Alex and that’s not very fair to him."

"My body ... it still looks bad." Callie glanced down at the bruises on her arms, then pulled her shirt sleeves down over her wrists to cover them. "I don’t want anyone to see."

"You know, your mother used to hide her stretch marks from me like it was shameful. She’d try to cover herself and refuse to let me see her and it bothered me. A woman should be comfortable in their own skin, honey, not matter what that skin looks like. This is not your fault." He smiled at her. "Not that I want *anyone* to see you or know you in a biblical sense. Hmmm, perhaps I will gut Alex after all. And Eros too, apparently."

Callie choked on her coffee. "What!?"

"We heard all about it. I should make sure your uncle fires his ... ass."

With a sly smirk, Callie said, "So *that* is why Alex wanted to know everything about Greece last night. And Greek men. That’s why he wants to go."

"You may as well take him," he replied. "Xenos and Demi are dying to meet him and perhaps Alex can handle Eros for me."

"Dad-"

"I paid for him to go to school to be a massage therapist and look at what he did!"

"He was good with his hands *before* he went to school."

"Calliope, I can not-"

A large bird flew across the yard, low to the ground. It cried out, a mournful, desperate sound and Callie jumped, frantically looking behind her. Wordlessly, she got to her feet and turned her chair so that her back faced the house and she could easily see every inch of the yard. Instead of looking at her father, she looked back and forth enough to mimic the movements of people who were at a tennis match. After a few seconds, she seemed to calm. "Everything scares me."

"That’s natural."

"Not for me." She looked to her right as another bird appeared in her peripheral vision. "I hate it."

"Callie, you’re home. You’re safe and -"

"Churches are safe, too, Dad. Right? And just look what happened." She wiped a tear off her cheek. "I need to not feel this way and I don’t know how to stop."

For the first time in his life, Raph didn’t know how to help her. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to comfort her. He had witnessed the slightest touch from her mother cause Callie to yell out in fear. He had watched her burst into tears over the ringing phone and he was helpless.

The back door opened, causing a rake that was reclining against the back of the house to clatter noisily against the patio. Callie shot to her feet, spilling the contents of her coffee cup onto her lap and the front of her shirt. Alex, picked up the rake and leaned it back against the house, his eyes never wavering from Callie. "I’m sorry," he said. "I didn’t know anyone was out here. I was gonna check the fire."

Wordlessly, Callie hurried into the house. Alex closed his eyes when the door slammed behind her. "I hate this, Raphael. She’s scared of her own shadow and she doesn’t know how to ... be."

"Go help her."

"She doesn’t want me to -"

"Go. Help. Her."

Alex’s eyes widened and he nodded, hurrying to the master bedroom. Callie’s closet was open, but she wasn’t there. He quietly walked into the bathroom and drew up short. Callie was tugging her shirt over her head and for the first time, Alex could see the magnitude of the damage. Her back and sides were dotted with purple spots and her waist had a ring around it, presumably from the attacker yanking her around by her dress.

She pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside, turning to grab the fresh one from the counter. She saw Alex and instinctively covered her breasts, but not before he saw the handprints there. They were unmistakable and still so sore that she couldn’t wear a bra. Callie watched his hands fist at his side and tears blur his eyes. Saying nothing, he walked forward and pulled her into his arms.

"Alex-"

"Please. Just give me a second, Cal." He pulled her closer still, handing her like she was made of glass. "This shouldn’t have happened to you. Not to you."

Callie wrapped her arms around him when the first sob wracked through him. She had seen him cry before, had felt him break in her arms after his mother had resurfaced, but it had never felt like this. He came undone as he clung to her and instead of falling herself, she found strength that she forgot she had. "It’s okay, Alex. I’m fine."

"You’re not." He stepped back and looked down at her chest. "Does it ... hurt?"

"Only the cut."

"Cut?"

Taking a deep breath, she pointed at the underside of her left breast. "He - he put the knife down my dress to cut it away and -"

"Can I see?"

"Okay."

Alex peeled back the band aid that Cristina had placed over it the night before. The backs of his fingers skilled the bottom of her breast, her ribcage, but she didn’t push him away. He kneeled down and ran his thumb over the two stitched. "God ... it’s right over your heart."

"Derek attacked him while the knife was there. I don’t know if he was trying to kill me or what that time, but ... when Derek hit him the knife cut me."

Moving his hand over her stomach, touching the explosion of color that covered her lower abdomen and hips, he said, "And this?"

"He kicked me. I think." She gasped when Alex kissed just below her belly button, then her side. She could feel his tears against her flesh and put a hand on his head, letting him touch every inch of her that he could see. When he urged her around, she turned and felt him smoothing over the marks against her back. He eventually got to his feet and kissed her shoulder.

"I’m sticky," she said, touching her stomach.

"You want to take a shower?" he asked.

She turned and looked up at him. "Do you?"

He nodded, leaning down to kiss her cheek. She watched as he turned on the water and pulled his shirt over his head. After locking the door, he crossed back to her and unbuttoned her pants, a task her swollen hands prevented her from doing. Her mother had dressed her that morning. She let him push them down and obliged by stepping out of them. Her thighs were bruised and while the water warmed, he touched the worst of it, his jaw set. "How in god’s name can somebody do this to a woman?"

"I’ve stopped trying to figure that one out." She stepped into the shower and looked back at him. "You coming?"

"The last thing you need it a naked guy in the shower with you. It’ll just remind you that -"

"That I have a gorgeous husband who’s willing to wash my back." She smiled at him. "Come on."

He didn’t look sure and when he joined her finally, he wore his boxer briefs. She glanced down at them, but didn’t comment. Instead, she stepped into his arms as the water beat down against her aching body.

"Happy Birthday," he said. "Your present’s in the bedroom. I didn’t forget."

She clung to him, her eyes closed. "This is all I want."

"This?"

"Us. I want us. The way we were."

"We’re fine."

"We’re not even close to fine, but -"

"How can you say that?" He pushed her hair over her shoulder and forced her to look at him.

"Because it’s true, Alex. You wanted to leave me and you did. You weren’t coming back until this happened and -"

"You’re not gonna believe this ... so I saved the receipt because I know you," he cut in. "I was shopping for your birthday present when you were attacked. I was. I’m not even kidding. I felt like the biggest bastard on the planet so I was going to come home and give you this gift and beg you to forgive me."

"You went shopping?" One of her eyebrows arched. "After you found out I had something to drink? Why?"

"Because I have just as much blame as you in what you did. I know that. I realized it the second I drove away from the church and I wanted to make it right. You’re not the only one who made a mistake, baby. I never should have left you for being you. You fly planes and you -"

"No. I was wrong to not tell you about the air show. I have to stop looking for a rush and settle down and -"

"I don’t want you to resent me, Callie. I don’t want to be that anchor that holds you down when you were never meant to -"

"I want you to be my anchor. There comes a time when a person has to decide their path and I want the family, Alex. I want the ground."

Alex sighed and shook his head. "Your mother sad that she had to let your father go and do crazy jobs while all of you were kids because she knew that her love would bring him home safe. She said she believed that he loved her enough to only take the right risks. She said that adrenaline junkies like you and Raphael can’t be tamed and you’d die without it."

"Wait." Callie made a face. "My dad said that she told him to choose between his dangerous job or the family and he chose us. He said that it was time to hand up his ... wings. Oh my god, we’ve been had. Manipulators! They played us!"

"So ... what’s the truth?"

"Who the hell knows?" She gave him an impish smile. "Wanna find out?"

"How?"

"Brunch. Just follow my lead."

Alex decided to follow her to the ends of the earth. Because she kissed him. It was their first kiss since before the attack and it felt like coming home. It was chaste, sweet, and sincere. He wanted to cry again.


This time from relief.

*~

Melana had cooked a feast. Everything that Callie and Cambyses favored was piled on the table. When Callie arrived at last, Melana nodded her approval at her flushed cheeks, and lifted her fork like she was conducting a symphony. Everyone sang ‘Happy Birthday’, except Stavros, who suffered through the singing with Loukas’s hand over his mouth. There were many laughs, many anecdotes and Blake and Alex were treated to one story after another about past birthdays, which The Wonder Twins vehemently denied. For the most part.

As she ate her birthday cake, Callie glanced at Alex and winked. "Daddy?"

"What, princess?"

"I’m gonna have a really bad scar on my leg."

Raphael frowned. "Perhaps not."

"I will," she replied. "But I was thinking ... you have a scar from being shot so ... we’ll have something in common."

Sitting up a little straight, Raph looked at Stavros, who had opened his mouth to correct Callie. Raph moved to kick his eldest son under the table, but missed, kicking Melana instead. It startled the woman and she yelped. With a glare, she kicked him back, even harder, then slapped him on the arm. "What is the matter with you?" she snapped. "Control yourself or leave the table. I’ll have you committed to a retirement home if you can’t keep your limbs to yourself. And I’ll pay them extra to let you sit in your own piss for a week."

"Sorry," Raphael replied, lifting his leg to massage it.

"Why did you kick her!?" Loukas demanded.

"He was trying to kick me," Stavros told him, smirking. "Dad, when did you get shot?"

"Any minute now," Melana replied, her eyes narrowed at her husband.

"Years ago." Raph, who had declared himself so stuff that he was miserable just moments before, dug into the cake again, refilling his plate. "I could eat this all day and -"

"Diabetic coma!" Callie cried, snatching it from him. "Can I see your scar? It would make me feel better about mine."

"He’s sitting on it," Melana growled. "Too bad it didn’t paralyze the foot he can’t control."

"I said I’m sorry!" Raph snapped. "Who wants to open presents!? Woo! Presents!"

Alex couldn’t contain himself. "Melana, you didn’t tell me about him being shot were you were waxing poetic about letting him do his job. You said the danger made the victory sweeter and you never worried."

"WHAT!?" Loukas cried, taking the cake from Callie and digging into it. "Mom used to cry every single time the phone rang thinking Dad wasn’t coming home. She would -"

"Loukas," Melana said, snatching the cake from him. "If you can’t contribute to the conversation then don’t speak."

"What did I do?" Loukas asked Cambyses, who was watching the exchange with interest.

Raphael pointed to the island and repeated, "Presents. Woo."

Callie crossed her arms over her chest as she regarded her parents. "You guys aren’t telling us something."

"For heaven’s sake, Calliope, do you tell all of your secrets?" Melana inquired. "No? I didn’t think so. Otherwise your dalliance with Eros wouldn’t have given me heart burn last night."

"He didn’t get shot," Stavros announced. "I remember it like it was yesterday. I was young, but some things *never* get erased from your mind." He looked at Callie. "Mom was pregnant with you and Cambyses and we flew from Greece to Virginia because General Wilkins called and told us that Dad had been wounded in the line of duty."

"Stavros!" Melana warned.

Stavros merely smiled and continued his story. "So, we got to Langley and Mom got mad as hell because they kept frisking her to make sure she actually had twins in her gut and not a bomb or something. Then they led us back to where Dad was and ... he had gotten sick during some training run and dropped his pants to use the bathroom. Well, a timber rattler saw that shining white ass coming down on top of it and struck him twice. And was it ever nasty?! God damn!"

Melana kicked her son under the table. "We just prayed over this food! I hope it upsets your stomach."

"Langley," Blake said. "Isn’t that where the C.I.A. is?"

The Torres family stopped moving, stopped breathing, and looked everywhere but Blake.

"HOLY SHIT!!" Blake cried. "You were in the C.I.A.?!"

"What!?" Alex looked at Callie, who seemed to be engrossed in the grain of the wood table. "Seriously?"

Blake shot an accusing glare at Cambyses. "You never said C.I.A., Cam. You said he had dabbled in the FBI and -"

"Honestly, son," Raph said, glaring at Cam. "If you’re going to lie at least make it interesting. What happened to the Secret Service cover I gave all you kids? You were supposed to automatically say that I was away guarding the President."

"Guarding any President of late is not something to be proud of," Cam replied. "The FBI is pretty cool, though. They get nice hats."

Blake snorted. "In the C.I.A., you get nice guns. And gadgets. And bombs. And -"

"It’s really not like ‘Alias’." Raphael cut in. "No one looked like Jennifer Garner and we rarely had the need to wear lingerie on our missions."

"Are you sure you weren’t wearing lingerie when your ass was bitten?" Cambyses asked.

"Presents!" Raphael snapped.

"Woo." Melana added.

*~*~*~*~

"Dear Diary," Mark read, fluffing his pillow against the headboard. "Today I stumbled onto something that I don’t understand. Papa said that he was going to the market and disappeared. I went to the grotto to see if that pretty blue eel with the scarred head was back for more bread, but voices startled me. That man, Raphael, the thief, was standing toe to toe with Papa and they were yelling at one another in a language I’ve never heard. I think perhaps it must be Spanish, though I can’t be certain. I’ve never heard Papa speak anything other than Greek or English, but he spoke whatever foreign tongue it was very well.

"And apparently Raphael didn’t care for the subject matter because he got into his small motor boat after just a few minutes and sailed away. Papa was crimson. I thought that I’d have to shove him into the water to extinguish the fire that seemed to erupt on his head. He paced for a while and then took the cave entrance to the house. I didn’t follow. I’ve never been partial to that passage. It’s got too many hidey holes for spirits and ghouls.

"Xenos benefited from the healing spring, after all. Demi, after he was able to move again without being reminded of the beating he took (which I’m sure was worse than mine) swam to Talking Rock and filled a mason jar with water from the spring. Xeno was feverish and not able to keep anything down, even lemonade, so after everyone was in bed, I bathed his brow with the water and trickled some into his mouth. Oh, how he choked at first. I was quite certain he’d awaken the entire house, but no one came.

"Demi sat beside his bed reading the Bible while Xeno drank and drank from the jar. It was like his thirst could not be quenched after a while. My goodness, he drank until his scrawny belly looked like Buddha, though I can never let anyone know that I know what Buddha looks like. Mama and Papa would be beside themselves, weigh me down with rosaries, and drop me into the grotto to purify myself for looking at false idols.

"I don’t know yet if the water will help Xeno. I’ve only just left his room and he was sleeping soundly. I put my ear against his belly and told Demi it sounds like he may have swallowed a fish as well. It was swishing and swirling like the water buckets when the ladies do the laundry.

"If Xeno is not near death tomorrow ... I will be looking for Raphael’s campsite. If he is near death ... I’ll stay until the very end. And then run because I’m sure the water will have killed him." Mark handed the diary to Addison. "Do you want to go downstairs and eat or have it brought here?"

"Here." She flipped the page, but waited until he called downstairs and asked for breakfast in bed before she started to read. "Dear Diary ... this is wrong, Mark. These are the private thoughts of a friend of ours. A friend who was clearly mistreated and misunderstood and -"

"Bad as hell." He smiled at her. "What else are we gonna do today? It’s raining outside and I’m still sore from walking all over Egypt. So, let’s read. If you don’t want to ... give it to me and I’ll do it in silence."

"Not happening." She lifted the book, settling back in his arms. "Dear Diary, Xenos woke me up this morning by jumping on my bed. At fourteen, he’s so small and skeletal that he usually doesn’t have the strength to hold himself upright. He walked with a perpetually curved back that caused Athena Niarchos to call him Quasimodo at the fair last year. Well, you don’t even have to ask and since you can’t ... I’ll just tell you that by the time I finished beating her into the mud she was not only sorry, she happily gave Xenos his first kiss. She’s a bit of a troll, quite possibly a hag, but Xenos smiled for a week and hid the muddy shirt she had clutched when she kissed him under his mattress.

"But today his back was straight and he begged me to take him to the orchard so that he could pick the plumpest orange there. Naturally, I agreed. I dressed so quickly that my dress didn’t match my hair ribbons, but he was frantically pacing just outside my door and I couldn’t make him wait. His good days are so few and far between. He wouldn’t let me drag his wheelchair out. Instead, he took my hand in his and led me down the slope. I kept telling him to slow down, but he only laughed and pulled me along behind him.

"He found an orange that was bigger than both of our fists and stretched out in the sun to peel it. Never has Xenos talked so much or so passionately. He laughed and joked and made remarks that were so out of character that I thought for a moment he was a changeling. We were laughing so hard that we didn’t hear the snarling at first. A great black beast of a dog was coming toward us, hackles up, teeth bared. I threw what was left of my orange and it hit the animal on its slobbering mouth, but it didn’t deter it. It charged at us and I gathered Xeno to his feet, shoving him up into the tree.

"I was pulling myself up when it lunged and caught hold of my ankle. Thankfully, I was wearing the boots that cover my ankle, but oh, the pain was incredible. I screamed and screamed and Xeno was frantically tearing my arms and shoulders to pull me further into the tree. When the gunshot rang out, I was certain that I had been shot. The dog tightened its grip in the moment before it died, then it whimpered, let go, and fell to the ground with its tongue rolled out. There was white foam still spewing from its muzzle.

"And then Raphael was there, examining my boot while I dangled between the branches of the tree. It was quite mortifying to have him unlace it and slip it and my sock off. It startled me so badly that I let go of the tree, but this time he was prepared for my descent and caught me with his arms and not his head. He set me on the ground, away from the dog, and reached for Xeno, who happily surrendered to Raphael’s much stronger arms.

"Only my pride was wounded. My ankle is now resting in a basin of ice water. It’s slightly purple, but the skin wasn’t broken. Raphael said the dog must have been drinking sea water and it drove it mad. Xeno allowed Raphael to give him a piggy back ride to the house because he was exhausted from our ordeal and knew I couldn’t support his weight on my ankle. Before he told us goodbye, Raphael mentioned that he’d be in the orchard tomorrow. Stealing fruit. His criminal deeds appear to amuse him because he winked at me when he said it."

Mark held out his hand and read the next entry. "Today ... oooh, she didn’t say Dear Diary ... Today, was like a dream. I awoke with the urge to wear a new dress. Demi bought it for my birthday and Mother said it’s too adult, too free spirited, but I like it. It has no real sleeves to speak of. I’ve seen similar dresses in magazines, but we have our clothing made from patterns here that mother cuts herself. At any rate, Demi saw me and said I looked like a movie star. I went to the orchard alone, feeling like a star and that feeling hasn’t truly left me yet.

"Raphael was there, perched in the tree that had witnessed my snake humiliation. He jumped down when he saw me coming and handed me a red rose, saying he didn’t realize that it would match my dress. We strolled through the orchard for so long that the shoes I wore began to pinch my feet. Raphael told me to take them off and I was embarrassed to show my feet, but I knew the lush grass would feel like cool water so I complied. We wound up at the beach and he took his shoes off, too. I’ve never seen a man’s feet before unless you count my brothers, which I don’t.

"We waded for what felt like an eternity and then I showed him one of the caves that led to the grotto. I don’t know why I did it. He clearly knew how to get to the grotto because I had seen him speaking to my father there. When I asked him about it, he said that it was business and would not tell me what kind. My bare feet didn’t enjoy the rocky floor of the cave and I stumbled. He caught me and ... well, he kissed me. It was definitely a kiss. A rather strange kiss that involved his tongue touching mine. I’m not at all convinced that people actually do that awkward thing regularly, but we did it so many times that I’m well versed in it should it happen again."

They swapped the diary back and forth, reading passage after passage, pausing only to admit Barnacle, who apologized for the rain as he delivered their breakfast. The poor old man seemed to feel personally responsible for the dreary day and made every suggestion under the sun on how he could rectify it. The newlyweds finally assured him that they were exhausted and need a day of rest and he excused himself. While they ate, they talked about Melana and Raphael.

Melana had chronicled their first real ‘date’. She had packed a lunch and traipsed through the woods until she found his campsite. They ate on a blanket in front of his tent and he told her that he wanted to kiss the cook. She assured him that he already had and let him kiss her again. And again. And then some more. There were entries that talked more about Xeno and his mystery illness, which seemed to have come back stronger than ever, and several weeks past where Melana didn’t write at all, she simply drew hearts and wrote Raphael’s name over and over again.

"She’s so in love," Addison said, her thumb trailing over a particularly ornate heart.

"Fast forward this thing to the next chapter, Addy."

She sighed and looked at him. "We should take a moment and bask."

"I’d rather take a moment and get to the smut."

"Pig." She turned the page. "I told Raphael today that we’re going to sneak Xeno to Talking Rock tonight. Xeno has turned yellow and the doctors say that he could go at any time. I haven’t forgotten what the spring water allowed us to do the day after he drank it. We walked to the orchard together that day. We laughed. He was healthy. So I believe. Raphael said that if we come to the grotto with Xeno, he’ll take us in his motor boat.

"I was frightened to tell Demi about Raphael, but he took it well enough. I think that he’s been spying on us, in all honesty. Because he called Raph a Spaniard and I never once mentioned his name or his nationality. Are Cuban people Spaniards? I’m quite concerned with how Demi will treat him tonight. I must go and prepare. I’m taking more than one jar tonight to see if that will prolong Xeno’s fortitude."

Addison frantically flipped the page. "Dude, this is written the same day."

"And?"

"Dear Diary, I’ll begin this entry by telling you that Xeno is okay. I, on the other hand, can barely move. Raphael was waiting for us in his boat and he held up his arms to accept Xeno, who was bundled in a blanket. I rode to Talking Rock with him in my arms and he shivered and cried the entire time. Demi didn’t say much, he simply glared at Raphael and did what he could to add tension to an already tense situation.

"When we arrived at Talking Rock, Xeno wanted to walk. He was so weak that it took Raph and Demi both to support him and I was beside myself watching him struggle to get to the last puddle of salvation we have. When the spring came into view, he asked them to let him go and he half crawled, half walked to the edge, where he lay on his stomach and gazed at the shallow depths. The moon was reflected right over him, bathing us all like nymphs, and then we heard him praying and crying and asking God to let it work. I rushed to his side to add my own prayers and then Demi and Raphael fell to their knees beside us, adding their own fervent cries.

"Xeno pulled himself into the water and went under. I wanted to scream, to wrench his head back up, but Demi caught my arm and told me to give him a moment. I never knew that anyone could hold their breath that long and I don’t understand exactly HOW he disappeared when we could see the bottom clearly, but I promise you ... Xeno was gone for a short while. When he finally did reappear, he was laughing.

"And he walked out. He didn’t crawl.

"Our celebration, while incredibly heartfelt and full of praise, was short lived. My father came ashore looking like a madman. He went after Demi first, swinging his belt so many times that Demi, who is a grown man himself, was crying out from it. Then he came at me and Raphael, who had been waylaid by collecting water at the spring, got between us and refused to move. My father was a man undone. Raphael would not let him hit me and told him that if his temper needed to be sated that badly to hit him instead. My father obliged. It was so traumatic. By the time it was over, I had gotten my share of the beating by trying to help Raphael. It was Xeno who stopped it. He opened a jar of water and threw it at my father.

"I tell you ... I heard it hiss. And just like that, the melee was over and he was hugging Xeno, unable to believe his eyes. On the way back from Talking Rock, sitting sideways in my father’s boat to watch Raphael as he sailed out of site toward his campsite, I began to cry. Papa said that I’m not to see him again. Demi told him that Raphael was HIS friend and that I didn’t know him, but Papa doesn’t seem to believe it." Addison didn’t give Mark the diary for the next entry either. She read it, too. "Dear Diary, before the sun rose ... the passageway into my bedroom opened and Raphael appeared. I was crying into my pillow because I hurt so badly and it startled the tears dry. I could only stare at him as he rushed across the room and gathered me into his arms. I knew that they were strong, sturdy arms, but they chased away the chill and filled me with warmth like I’ve never known.

"He asked to see my back because there was blood on my dress and I let him. I let him because I’ve never really had anyone seem to care so much. He wet his hand in the jar of water I had brought back and trailed it over the welt on my skin from Papa’s belt. It stopped burning right away and then I felt his lips against my neck and strange things started to happen to my body. And it kept happening as he pushed my tattered dress to the floor.

"I know what we did is wrong. I know it is. It shouldn’t have happened and it ... it hurt, but then it didn’t hurt and it was wonderful and I didn’t want him to leave. I cried when he said that he should go and he clung to me, telling me that he loved me, that he had loved me since he had seen me in the market on my sixteenth birthday. That was only seven months ago, but I feel like I’ve known him all my life. I can’t remember not knowing him.

"I love him, too. I love that he was there to help Xeno, that he prayed for him, that he came to help me and ... that he taught me what my body can do. I never, ever knew that people could do what we did and I don’t regret it. I can’t regret it because for the first time in my life .... I feel alive. I feel wanted. I told him just before he left that I would run away with him anytime. All he has to do is ask me and I’ll leave everything behind. I’ll leave the money, my life ... even Xeno, because my heart doesn’t know how to keep beating unless I can see him.

"There was blood on my sheets this morning. I washed them myself and hung them on the line before anyone else woke up. Papa was in the blue room when I came inside. Unlike all the other times that he apologized for hitting me ... today he didn’t. Maybe he doesn’t understand love. Love propelled us to take Xeno to Talking Rock. And love propelled me to hug Papa and forgive him once again. And love propelled me last night and no one should ever feel badly about such a wonderful, pure feeling." Addison closed the diary and looked at Mark. "Oh my god."

"I know."

"I *told* you that there was something up with that healing water! I told you!" Addison pulled her foot from under her and flexed it. "I should be crippled. They hurt that bad."

Mark grabbed her foot and tickled it, causing her to forget the diary. She wore his shirt and he unbuttoned it pushing it over her shoulders. When she was naked, he licked his lips and smiled up at her. "We’re going tomorrow. To Talking Rock."

"Yeah?" Addison tugged his pants down and slipped back up his body, grinding against him. "All by ourselves?"

"Completely." He slid his hand along her cleft, dipping inside her moist center. "And what we don’t do there ... can’t be done."

"It’s *hallowed*," Addison replied, groaning as he lifted her hips and pulled her down onto him. "Oooooh, so is this."

"I agree."

They made love for hours and fell asleep with their arms around each other. Their lunch arrived, waking them, and they decided to leave the diary alone for a while and head back down to the grotto.

They stopped at the kitchen first to ask for bread for the eels.

If anyone thought the suggestions was odd, they didn’t comment. Instead, they supplied the two house guests with enough bread to feed an army and told them to watch for the lucky blue eel with a scar on its head. Willa said that seeing the eel was a sign of good things to come.

In the grotto, Mark saw it first. The scar was only a blue when the eel darted out at the first drop of bread against the water’s surface. When the second piece was dropped, the animal’s entire head came out and left no doubt that it was the eel that was mentioned in Melana’s diary as well.

"How long do these things live?" Mark asked, watching as several more joined the feeding frenzy.

"Apparently pretty damn long. We’ll ask Xeno."

Side by side, they sat at the water’s edge, listening to the eels splash and the thunder reverberate through the cavern. "This is the best honeymoon ever," Addison said. "Remind me to take Melana a souvenir of some kind."

"What do you give the woman who has everything?"

"I’m sure we’ll think of something."

"I’m sure we will." He put an arm around her. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Wanna move to Greece?"

"I got a feeling we'll be carrying it with us no matter where we wind up."

*~*~*~
CH 7
"Where were you?" Burke demanded when Cristina opened the door. "Have you ever heard of a telephone?"

Cristina reached into her back pocket and pulled out her cell. "It’s dead."

"I’ve been worried sick. You’re two hours late. I called the hospital and they said that you left a while ago." He pulled her into his arms, hanging onto her.

She rolled her eyes. Ever since Callie’s attack, Burke had become so overprotective that he called her the second she was out of sight in the mornings to make sure her car doors were locked. No matter how often she reminded him that they locked automatically, he still wanted to hear the click. He had actually taken the day off at Mercy West to have an alarm system installed in their apartment. She patted him on the back and said, "Paranoia will give you ulcers."

"Not calling me will give you a night on the sofa."

She smiled up at him. "Do I smell baked chicken?"

"You do." Leaning down, he kissed her and took her coat, hanging it on the hook behind the door. "Have you seen Callie?"

"Yeah. It’s her birthday. I took her something from Hot Topic. She’s scaring me," Cristina replied, letting him lift her onto the kitchen counter. She plucked a yeast roll from the pan and bit into it. "It’s like she goes in and out of herself. She’ll be fine for a while and then ... she’s just ... not there anymore."

Burke accepted the bite of roll she gave him. "You haven’t been sleeping and last night I had an entire conversation with you that you didn’t hear. This thing ... this horrible, horrible thing that happened to Callie is making *you* go in and out of yourself and you only saw it. She lived it."

"I know." Cristina finished off the roll and pushed her hair away from her face. "Meredith said that Derek’s been having nightmares. She said that he keeps talking about Callie and -"

"We see things like this every day in our profession." Burke reached up to touch the necklace he had given her for Christmas the previous year. He had taken her engagement ring to the jeweler, where the diamonds were removed from the ring and set into a locket. It made him feel better to know that she wore the ring he had painstakingly chosen, even if it was like this. "We see it from a professional standpoint. Callie made it personal for all of us. We’re all feeling it in different degrees."

"It feels like ‘cagefighter Callie’ is down for the count."

Burke shook his head. "You can’t keep a woman like her down for long. She’s strong and she has an amazing support system."

Cristina grinned. "I love your brain."

"I love yours too." He kissed her, lingering over her lips for a while. "Erica Hahn called me today and mentioned that she wasn’t happy at Seattle Grace any more. She suggested that perhaps I’d be interested in returning to my old position."

"But you’re the Chief at Mercy West!"

"I miss *my* support system."

She watched him as he took the chicken out of the oven and stirred the contents of two saucepans. "Your support system misses you too."

"I could resign. I’ve had over a year of experience as Chief of Surgery and ... that may look good down the road."

"Or it could look like you got the job, hated it, and bailed."

"Or it could look like I got the right job at the wrong hospital. And - I don’t want to work eighteen hours a day anymore. I never see you. This was a great job before we worked out our problems, but now ... I miss you. I miss you more than I did when we were apart because ... I know you’re here. And I could be here, too."

"You would give up the Chief of Surgery job at a prestigious hospital because you *miss* me?"

"I know what my priorities are. And you’re at the very top."

"This is your career, Preston."

"This is my *life*, Cristina." She picked up another roll, but he took it from her and dropped it back onto the pan, saying, "Stop stress eating."

"I don’t want you to regret this. You got your dream. You’re *Chief*."

"I got the *job*. I’m looking at the dream."

With a smirk, she pulled him closer. "Well, now I’m not hungry at all. Wanna get laid?"

Their dinner was forgotten.

Cristina couldn’t *wait* for him to return to Seattle Grace.

*~*~*~

Callie woke with a start. She always woke with a start. Glancing at the clock on the end table, she realized that her afternoon birthday nap had drifted toward evening, then she let her gaze fall on the photo that was illuminated by the glow of the clock. It was the photo that Alex had ripped. Not that one precisely, but a duplicate. He had found the negatives and had one blown up to an eight by ten to replace the one he had destroyed. It was in a new frame, a silver one that said ‘Forever’ at the top. Alex had given it to her for her birthday along with her wedding rings. He had even gotten on his knees to beg her to wear them again, swearing on everything in the world that he’d never hurt her, never leave her, never make her regret it. She believed him. She had to believe him.

Lifting her hand, she gazed at her rings. They were a little snug because of the swelling, but she felt complete again. She heard the door creak open and rolled over, smiling at Irene. Flipping the lamp on, she sat up. "Hey."

"Hey, honey," Irene replied, closing the door behind her as she walked into the room. She carried a large package, gaily wrapped. "Happy Birthday. I just got off work so I had to miss most of the party."

"There wasn’t one. We had brunch together and then I slept most of the day away."

"That’s understandable." Irene held out the box. "I hope you like it."

"You didn’t have to get me anything," Callie told her, accepting it. She opened it and smiled when she saw the snowglobe inside. It was a scene from ‘The Wizard of Oz’ which they had watched together recently. Winding it, Callie grinned up at her mother in law as the tinkling of ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ began to play. "I love it. Thank you."

Irene smiled and sat down, watching as Callie shook it, making the snow fall. "Can I talk to you?"

Meeting her eyes, Callie frowned. "Okay."

"I know that you love Alex. I know. I know that you two are perfect together and he’s a better man because of you, but - I didn’t know that you had an alcohol problem." Irene shook her head. "I just found out today at the hospital. You know how gossip is at that place."

Callie didn’t reply so Irene continued. "I also know that alcoholism is a disease. I know that you can’t help it, but, Callie, he had to live through this once already with his father. It destroyed him every single time his dad would come home drunk or use our food money for more alcohol. He used to force Alex to go into the kitchen to get him more beer and -"

"It’s not like that with me."

"Did you really almost kill yourself intentionally with liquor?"

"Yes, but -"

"Then it’s worse." Irene stared at her, unblinking. "I’m asking you as his mother to not do this to him. I’m asking you to remember your wedding vows and think about him first. Addiction is a beast and I understand that it’s hard to be strong, but my son is miserable and you can stop it."

"I have stopped it. I had one slip up in over a year." Callie’s palms had begun to sweat so she laid the globe back in the box and swiped them over the cover. "I’m not perfect."

"No one is," Irene agreed. "All I’m saying is ... think. Think about where he came from, Callie. Don’t make him overcome that just to relive it again and again with you. Don’t be like his father because if you ever have kids ... it’ll damage them for life and Alex will wind up like me." Getting to her feet, Irene took a deep breath. "I have to go. I hope you have a good night, sweetheart."

Callie nodded, watching the other woman leave. The last strings of the song finished playing and she lifted the globe again, peering into it. She decided then that she’d give anything to be picked up and taken to Oz, to anywhere. She wanted to vanish for a while. It didn’t help that workmen would be arriving the following day to install the security cameras and fence. Finding out that the house and yard would be crawling with strange men had prompted her to self medicate and go straight to bed. As much as she wanted it done, the thought of it left her panicked inside. She wanted to run. She needed to run.


Since she was a child, at the first hint of trouble ... Callie ran. After wrecking her first bike, she had hidden in the woods overnight and that trait had remained with her through adulthood. When she learned of George’s infidelity, she hopped a plane to North Carolina for fifteen days and didn’t call anyone to say she was alive. Alex was the first person she had ever invited along for one of her self imposed exiles and she knew, as she gazed at the globe, that it was time for another one. This time ... Alex couldn’t go.

She needed to help herself, she decided. She needed to get away from the pitying eyes of her friends and family and *think* for a while. She couldn’t do that surrounded by people who coddled her and made excuses for her. No matter how they tried, they didn’t take away the pain, the fear, the anxiety. She was terrified in her own home, scared to walk into a darkened room and shocked at her own reflection when she walked past a mirror. A change of scenery would be perfect. And she’d call from wherever she landed to assure them all that she was okay.

Thinking required a change of venue sometimes.

Running felt like the smart thing to do.

She got to her feet and located her cell phone. Within fifteen minutes, her plane was being fueled and readied for a flight to Alaska. It was the first place she thought of. Miles and miles of empty stretches with no one to see her. She had little doubt that she could secure a small cabin, hide away, and be alone with her thoughts. Locking the bedroom door, she hastily threw together an overnight bag and pulled a wad of cash from the fireproof box on the top shelf of her closet. She stowed the bag underneath the bed just as someone wiggled the doorknob.

"Callie?" Alex called.

She adjusted the dust ruffle before she let him in. "Sorry. I was gonna change clothes and I didn’t want anyone walking in."

"How do you feel?"

"Fine. Good. I’m good. Great. Really."

He cupped her cheek, looking into her eyes. "Are you *sure*?"

Her stomach twisted. She loved and hated the way he could see through her, into her. "I’m better," she assured him, not feeling the false conviction in her own voice. She looked away first, motioning at the bed. She sat down, but he remained on his feet. "Is something wrong, Jock Strap?"

"I don’t know," Alex replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "You tell me."

Callie shrugged innocently. Because his gaze was becoming unbearable, she finally said, "Are we ever gonna talk about the drinking? Because ignoring it doesn’t make it go away."

He cleared his throat, more to buy time than because he needed to. It wasn’t a topic he cared to discuss at all, but she had tried for several days. "Let’s talk about it then."

"You’re still mad at me for it."

"You’re still pissed at me for shooting my mouth off, too."

"Alex."

"Fine, I’m mad as hell." He nodded. "It infuriates me to think about it. You ruined your sobriety over something stupid as hell. It was stupid. And it makes me sick to know that you did it. If you’re waiting on me to yell at you though ... it’s going to be one hell of a wait. I think you’re sorry for it. I think you’re punishing yourself enough for everyone. Right?"

"I am sorry," she confirmed. "And scared that I’ll do it again."

"Why?"

"Because I like it. Because I really think I have a problem and - and I want it to go away."

Alex sat down beside her, his fingers digging into his thighs. "Baby, do I not make you happy anymore? Did I push you so far that you can’t come back? Because you were fine until we fought about the air show."

"I haven’t been fine. All along."

"Cal-"

"I’m a great actress, Alex." Reaching over, she took his hand. "I’m strong. I have willpower, but I think about drinking every day. Good or bad."

"Since when?"

"When I was married to George ... it was like a drinking game. If he left without saying he loved me ... I’d take a shot. If he hurt my feelings ... I’d do two. If he made me feel inferior to his friends ... I’d shoot whatever was left in the bottle and try not to hurt for a while. It was the only way I could deal."

"Do I make you feel that way?"

"You made me feel worse, Alex. George ignored me, which at the time was awful, but you - you made it very clear that I was a mistake you made and you weren’t coming home."

"I was verbally abusive. I get that. I shouldn’t have said -"

"You’re forgiven," she replied, cutting him off.

"You’re forgiven, too." He gave her a sad smile. "I don’t know how to help you through this drinking thing, Callie. I really don’t. I can only tell you that if me leaving played any part in it that you won’t ever have to worry about it again. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m not going anywhere. None of *us* are going anywhere. We’re all here for you."

Callie looked away. "My parents will probably try to send me to rehab. Maybe I should have gone last time."

His eyes widened. "You want to go?"

"I want to never drink again," she replied.

"Rehab doesn’t guarantee that," he said, choosing his words carefully. "And neither does running away to rehab."

She swallowed hard. Surely he didn’t know. "I’m not -"

"It’s what you do. You get scared and you run. And you’re terrified right now. Right?"

"No."

He leaned a little closer. "You’re not *that* great of an actress."

Callie forced herself to smile at him, even as she thought of the packed bag under the bed.

She let him talk her into going downstairs for dinner after that, but the smile never returned to her face.

*~

Melana sat on the bed, rubbing lotion into her skin. Raphael sat next to her, rigid and fully clothed, flipping through a book. She took a deep breath and looked at him. "I have a bruise on my leg."

"I have an even larger one, Sasquatch," he replied, lowering the book to look at the purpling bruise that marred her bronzed skin. With a grin, he sat up, lifted her leg, and kissed it. "Better?"

"No. Your children and I were the ones blessed with full lips, Raphael, so try a little harder. Chickens peck, not men."

With a grin, he lowered his head and did a much better job. Despite the tension he felt, he lost himself in the task and a full minute passed before she tapped him on the shoulder. "What, honey?" he asked.

"We need to take the twins to Greece. Tomorrow. Stavros and Loukas are ready to return to Miami. I took it upon myself to speak with Chief Webber about Alex taking some time off and he agreed." She continued to rub lotion into her skin. "Please, Raph? We both know what they need. Callie in particular."

"A massage from Eros?" Raph asked, bitterness creeping into his voice.

Mel smacked his arm. "I still can’t believe she did that. That’s *four* men that we know about."

"FOUR!?"

"George, Alex, Mark and Eros."

Raphael sat up. "Yes, we can go to Greece tomorrow. I need to make Addison a widow."

"Stop that."

"Sorry, mi vida. It’s just ... she’s -"

"Not a virgin, Raphael. We established that months ago."

"We better change the subject before I go choke Alex." Scratching his chin, Raphael added, "The construction crew arrives tomorrow. Leon should be able to oversee it."

Mel chuckled. "You never told Callie that he was your partner for a while, did you?"

"She’d call it overkill."

"It could make her feel safer, sweetheart. Alex and Blake were duly impressed with your work history."

"They better be. I’ll slip right back into agent mode if they hurt my kids."

"That’s so manly I could just *die*." She breathed deep, sniffing the air. "Nothing like misspent testosterone. I think I shall refer to you as Pepé Le Pew if you keep spraying it."

He kissed her lips, cupping her face. "I wonder what people would say if they knew who actually had the bullet scar in this family."

"That is not something I care to revisit."

"You’re brave, Melana. And our daughter has your guts." He ran a hand through his hair and finally told her the truth. "She’s about to fly, mi vida."

"Fly?"

"Branson called. She had her plane prepared today. For Alaska."

"WHAT!?"

"Alex questioned her indirectly and said she didn’t let on. I even spoke a little at dinner about it, but she’s not - why would she run away now?"

"I’ll find out!" Melana started to rise from the bed, but he caught her arm. "If you know what’s good for you-"

"We want to see if she’ll go through with it. I’ve put a special code in the alarm. If she tries to exit *any* door or window it’ll wake the dead." He pulled her back down beside him. "I don’t understand what she’s thinking."

"I don’t know either. I don’t know how to help her, Raphael. I’ve been beaten, certainly, but never by a stranger who would see me dead."

"It probably hurts less when it’s a stranger," he said. "You should tell her about your father. Perhaps-"

"Goodness, no! I’ve built him up so much that it would devastate the children to know the truth about him." She snuggled against him, hoping his warmth would chase away the chill she now felt. "They think he’s some dashing figure who loved his children and -"

"He did," Raph assured her. "But his misdeeds seemed to outweigh his goodness."

"I’d never speak ill of the dead. Don’t you."

"I’d never speak ill of your father, but we both know he wouldn’t take offense to it if he were still alive. He would agree."

"Hmm, do you think our children would speak ill of us if they knew what we had done?"

"Which part?"

"All of it."

Raph kissed her forehead, pulling her closer still. "No, I don’t think they’d speak ill. Although, I’d rather we live silently forever in our own painful memories than add anything to Calliope’s. She’s miserable."

"She needs to be. It’s well earned pain, honey. She very nearly killed herself with alcohol and then -"

"Leave her be."

"How can I? Now you tell me that she’s leaving. Running away again. Do I need to remind you what that does to you when you have to track her down all over the world? Alaska, indeed."

As if on cue, the alarm system wailed. Raphael shot to his feet and didn’t miss a beat as he raced from the room. Alex was a few steps ahead of him in the hallway and when they rounded the corner, Callie was rushing out the front door. It was Cambyses, however, who stopped her. He was leaning patiently against the garage doors and when she ran around the side of the house, he casually caught her around the waist. Lifting her off her feet, he carried her right back where she had come from and put her down on the front stoop.

"Well, well, well," Raphael said, taking the bag from her arm. "I can’t wait to hear what you have to say for yourself."

Callie didn’t meet his eyes. Or Alex’s. Her husband had stepped over the threshold of the door and she didn’t need to see him to know that he was furious. From three feet away, his anger was scorching. Cam put a hand on her back and forced her to walk inside the house. When she headed for the hallway, he gripped her arm and pulled her to the sofa, standing over her like a sentry. Leon arrived last, out of breath, his gun drawn. Raphael waved him away put his hands on his hips as he glared at his daughter.

"What are you doing?" Alex asked, breaking the heavy silence.

She let her head fall forward, then jerked it up again, pretending to be startled. "Am I sleepwalking?"

"That only ever worked when you were a toddler and even then not well." Melana moved to stand beside Alex. "Alaska, Calliope? Honestly, what is there in Alaska other than bears?"

"That’s kinda the whole point," Callie replied. "I - I want to be alone."

"No." Alex and Raphael said together.

"So you can drink?" Mel inquired sternly. "Because if that’s the case, if you’re so proud of your ability to get drunk, then do it here in front of us. Cambyses has wine and I’m fairly certain that Leon has beer in the shack. Which do you prefer?"

Stavros, Loukas and Blake entered the room in various states of dress. "What’s going on?" Loukas asked, tugging his T-shirt over his head.

"Callie’s running again," Cambyses told him. "As usual."

Stavros stalked forward, leaning down so that he could see his sister eye to eye. "Look at me." When she complied, he lifted his finger. "Number one, I love you even though you make it very difficult." He lifted a second finger. "Number two, I voted in your favor against rehab. Number three, if you make me regret that you’ll be visiting me from the afterlife at the prison, because I will choke you to death with my bare hands."

"And what he doesn’t choke," Loukas added, "I’ll drown."

"Cambyses," Melana said. "I suppose since these two will have thoroughly killed her you’ll be left to the burying."

"She’s burying herself without our help," Cam said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Cal, do you know what it would have been like for us if we woke up tomorrow and you were gone? Do you care?"

"Has she ever?" Stavros asked, throwing his hands in the air. "I’m going back to bed."

"We all are." Melana tapped her foot on the floor. "We need to get up early tomorrow, by the way. Our flight to Greece leaves at ten in the morning and I’ll expect you all to be up and ready."

"What?" Cam looked at his mother as if she had grown two heads. "We’re going to -"

"We obviously can’t help your sister," Melana snapped. "But I have *no* doubt that Demi and Xeno will shake some damn sense into her. Calliope, if you wish to be alone once we’re there, I’ll happily lock your ass in the cellar. You want to hit rock bottom? I’ll help all I can."

One by one, the Torres family headed back to their bedrooms, leaving Alex and Callie alone in the living room. Alex retrieved her bag, locked the door, and reset the alarm. When she made no move to follow him, he said, "Let’s go to bed."

"I don’t want -"

He held up his hand to silence her. "We can either go to bed or we can fight about this. Those are our choices and the things I want to say to you would make everything else I’ve said recently seem pretty tame. So, I’m telling you that your best option is to come with me and go to sleep."

Callie got to her feet and trudged behind him. In the bedroom, he tossed her bag into the corner and snatched his robe off, throwing it over the foot of the bed. Callie went into the bathroom to change, but he appeared in the doorway, watching her like a hawk. His intense scrutiny made her so nervous that she dropped her nightclothes twice. When her pajamas hit the floor for the third time, she started to cry.

"Don’t you dare cry," he snapped. "It’s not gonna work this time."

Callie retrieved the tank top and boxers and laid them on the sink, sobbing quietly as she fumbled with her belt. Her vision was so blurred that she could barely see the buckle and she fumbled for what felt like an eternity before Alex shoved her hands out of the way and opened it himself. The silence was punctuated by her sniffles and the hitching of her breath as she pulled her sweater over her head. "Alex, I wasn’t going to let you worry. I was going to call you when I got there."

"Stop talking."

"I just needed to clear my head."

"I mean it."

"I was only going to be gone a couple of days and -"

"Stop. Talking."

Her sobs intensified as she pushed her pants down and moved them aside with her foot. "You mom said that I’m like your dad and -"

"WHAT!?"

"I don’t want to be like him, Alex. I can’t do that to you. I can’t."

"She said that to you? What the fuck!? Is that - this is why you’re leaving? Callie, answer me!"

"She’s right!" Callie wailed. "I-"

"You are not like my father. You’re not. He refused to admit he had a problem and he was a piece of shit asshole who lived to hurt people around him." Alex glared at her. "Okay, maybe you have *that* in common, but -"

"Go to hell!"

"I’m there, Callie. I’m there!" He stalked closer to her. "You swore to me, SWORE, that you would never run from me! You said it! You said it on the roof of the Archfield and -"

"And you swore that you’d never leave so I guess we’re both liars!"

"A person can only be pushed so far!" he shouted. "Our *five* month anniversary is just around the corner and look at us! We spent most of the fourth month apart and now you’re trying to leave and -"

"For a couple of days!"

"I don’t want you gone for a *minute*!"

"It didn’t bother you for the three weeks you -"

"STOP THROWING THAT IN MY FUCKING FACE!" he bellowed. "I SAID I WAS SORRY AND I CAME BACK!"

"Stop screaming at me!"

"THEN LISTEN TO ME! BY GOD, CALLIE, TRYING TO TALK TO YOU IS LIKE SITTING IN THE RAIN AND WONDERING WHY YOU’RE WET! I CAN FEEL MY BRAIN CELLS DYING!"

"THEN STOP TALKING TO ME!"

"I told you! I said this would happen if we tried to discuss this mess tonight! Get your ass in the bed and -"


"Don’t tell me what to do! I am so sick of you acting like -"

"Callie-"

Melana charged into the room like a bull. Her nostrils were flaring, her hair was wild, and her cheeks were flushed with anger. She moved between her daughter and son in law. "Alex, go sleep on the sofa. Callie, not another word."

"Mom-"

"I SAID NOT ANOTHER WORD!" Melana commanded. "AND I MEANT IT! I AM NOT LISTENING TO THIS ALL NIGHT! MAYBE WE SHOULD SKIP GREECE AND GO SEE A LAWYER TO PUT AN END TO THIS MARRIAGE AND PUT BOTH OF YOU OUT OF YOUR MISERY!"

"How can you-" Callie began.

"Look at the two of you," Mel snapped. "Does this feel like a marriage to you? Because it doesn’t look like one from here. Oh, you both wear the rings, but you take them off far too easily. Those rings should act as a tourniquet that stops you both from going for the jugular and that’s all you’ve done lately."

"But-" Alex cut in.

"You left her," Melana told him. "So you deserve the panic you felt when you *thought* that she was leaving you tonight. That’s how she felt for weeks." Turning her attention to Callie, she added, "And that fear you’ve been feeling lately, where everything makes you jump, that’s how he felt watching you in that air show. So, you idiots need to decide if you’re even yet because if you’re not ... then end it ... because one upping each other could get you killed. By me."

Callie began to cry again. She looked at Alex and saw that he was just as shocked as she was by the suggestion of divorcing. He met her gaze and shook his head, reaching for her. She buried her face against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her, hanging on tight. "I’m sorry," she said. "I’m so sorry."

"It’s okay," he replied, kissing her head. He met Melana’s eyes, still stunned at her words, and the woman actually winked at him before she sashayed out of the room. He rubbed Callie’s back and said, "Let’s go to bed. Please? I can’t do this any more tonight."

She nodded and followed him to their room, where she crawled under the cover. A moment later, he spooned against her back. Neither spoke, but when his hand found hers, she threaded their fingers together and clung to him.

Losing him was suddenly far too real.


*~*~*~*~*~

"Don’t even think about it," Mark said, lifting his head from the pillow when Addison turned on the light and grabbed the diary. "We’re doing this snooping, nosy thing together."

Addison kissed him and yawned as she opened the book. "I dreamed about this thing last night. It was like I was watching a movie. Melana’s movie. It was so vivid."

"I did, too, actually." Mark stretched and got comfortable again. "So, read it."

"Dear Diary, I went to see Raphael in the woods today. I stopped at the orchard and found the biggest orange we had. When I arrived at his campsite, his tent was as tattered as my dress had been. It was lying on the ground in a heap and I didn’t see him anywhere. I was frightened to call out to him. I was building myself up for a full blown panic attack when he emerged from the depths of the forest.

"I didn’t have to tell him I was upset at the state of his campsite. He simply took one look at me and knew. He hugged me, kissed my face, and said he needed to find someplace safer. I don’t understand why he won’t tell me what he’s doing or who would have ransacked his pitiful home, but someone certainly did. I helped him pack his belongings and showed him another grotto, this one accessible only after a short underwater swim. It is set apart from the house and I’m fairly certain that only Demi and I know of its existence.

"I swam with him to the hideout and promised to bring him food. I didn’t notice that his movements were slow and exaggerated until he saw me shiver and walked to where I stood. He was hurt! I had his shirt off in mere seconds and the cut on his shoulder blade indicated that someone had attacked him while his back was turned. I had no special water to aid him toward relief, but he assured me that my tears had a similar effect. I kissed his shoulder for quite a while and it amused him so much that he smiled at me and told me that he loved me again. I wonder if anyone else in the world has ever felt the way that we do. I hope so because it’s a wonderful thing."

"My turn," Mark told her, holding out his hand for the journal. "Diary, Xenos has been cured. Mother thinks that the lord has finally heard her please, but I’m not at all certain that the Lord was there at Talking Rock. We prayed for Him to come, but I don’t believe he would have allowed the beating. A full month later and I still wear the marks of it. Perhaps Papa takes ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ too literally. If I have a family one day, I won’t allow anyone to hit them. I would never want anyone to feel the way that I feel.

"I digress. Xeno is doing quite well. In just the four short weeks since his midnight swim, there is meat on his bones and color tinting his cheeks. He awakens at dawn to frolic in the surf and I can already see muscle beginning to overtake his limbs. Athena Niarchos, that old cow, has apparently noticed this remarkable change as well because she has been calling on Xeno nearly every day. She claims that she cooks the pastries and tarts that she brings, but I feel quite comfortable in my belief that she only gets near the kitchen to steal food.

"Mama and Papa have gone to Egypt on business. They’re leaving from there and going to the United States. Oh, I’m so envious. I have never been to American, but since Raphael creeps into my room every night and tells me all about his home in Florida, I feel as if I’ve been a million times. He takes me to wonderful places every time he touches me.

"I told him that we are sinners, but he touched the scar on my back and disagreed. He said that I was a wingless Angel who could never truly sin. He said that my wings had been snatched away when I fell to the earth because people were jealous of them. He spoke with such conviction that allowed myself to believe that it had not been a belt after all ... that broke my flesh open. Of course, I know it’s a foolish notion, but his stories amuse me nevertheless.

"I want to fall asleep and wake up with him for the rest of my life. I told him a much and he swore he felt the same way. If we are the only people who share such a dream then I feel sorry for the rest of the world. Love is safe and strong and it renders me speechless every time he awakens those emotions in me. Which is quite often. I think perhaps we are hell bound, but what a partner I’ve found for the ride."

Addison smiled as she took the diary and flipped the page. There was more artwork there. Melana had perfectly captured what a young Raphael must have looked like. His smiling eyes had not changed in the slightest. "Dear Diary, Papa and Mama have been gone for six weeks. They do not get to see the full extent of Xeno’s recovery or witness my own deterioration. That night at Talking Rock, I told God that if he would spare Xeno, I would gladly take my brother’s sickness into myself. Well, God truly must have been within earshot because for a while now ... I’ve been very ill. I cannot go near the kitchen because the stench of food repulses me and even though I rarely eat ... I awake every morning in Raphael’s arms and lose the contents of my stomach.

"I do not feel well at all. I try to hide my discomfort because we are all overjoyed at Xeno’s good fortune, but Demi keeps asking me why I have a gray face and he worries himself over my full dinner plate returning the kitchen every night. I told him that I simply miss our parents, but that is a lie that I told with no real sincerity or conviction. Raphael brought me water from the spring last night and told me to drink it this morning. He still slumbers in the bed and I awoke to do as he requested.

"I pray that it helps. I fear, every time we fall asleep, that I will perish in the night. I know how it would wound me to awaken with my lover dead in my arms and I do not wish that on Raphael. I hope this affliction ends soon. If it must kill me, I’d prefer it happen while I’m alone." Addison shook her head. "She’s pregnant. Oh god... you don’t think her father will beat her for this, do you?"

"Turn the page and let’s find out."

A knock on the door forced her to shove the journal under the pillow. "Come in."

"Good morning, ma’am. Sir." Willa bowed, tugging at the stiff sleeve of her uniform. Barnacle said you wanted to journey to Talking Rock today. It’s a fine morning for travel. I think you’ll find that Greece after a rain storm is even lovelier than without. We’ve prepared a food basket for your lunch and stocked the boat with plenty of water. Will you be needing anything more?"

Mark watched the old woman scratch her belly, then her arm. "We need you to wear regular clothes. All of you."

Addison nodded her agreement. "The formality makes us uncomfortable."

"It does that to all of us, ma’am." Willa looked down at her uniform. "Thank you so much."

Mark grinned at the passion in her voice. "And we’d love it if the staff joined us for dinner tonight in the largest dining room. We’re lonely for company and I’m sure you all get tired of eating in the staff wing."

Willa was so excited by the invitation that she gathered up her already short dress and started to leave the room. She gave Mark and Addison quite a shocking glimpse of her garters before she stopped and looked back at them. "By the way," she said, letting her skirt fall. "Talking Rock is a magical place. It has been trod upon by nobility and blessed by Saints. You are welcome to everything she has to offer, but I must warn you not to consume her bounty with greed. If you are hungry, eat her first. If you are thirsty, drink your fill. However, remember that moderation is the perfect measure for everything and use restraint. There are eyes there that see all, hear all, and know all."

Addison and Mark exchanged amused looks when Willa bowed herself out of the room. The diary was forgotten while they dressed in comfortable clothing for their excursion. As promised, the boat was fully stocked with not only food and water, but several blankets as well. Barnacle, who escorted them to the small boat, warned them to go slowly and return before the sun set. He thanked them for the dinner invitation and waved them off. Addison turned at the halfway point to look back at Bounty’s Keep. She saw that he was still there and lifted her hand. He did the same, then turned and walked back into the grotto.

They pulled up to the dock at Talking Rock and Addison used an entire roll of film on Mark. She clicked her camera fast as he fell off the boat and into the water as he attempted to tie off to the dock. "You would think," she said, laughing. "after all the sailing trips with Callie and Alex ... that you would have your sea legs."

"I don’t see you doing it!" he snapped, pulling himself into the boat for the second time. "Do you think there are towels on this thing?"

Addison opened a hatch and nodded. "There are. Oooh, and dry clothing, too! Our clothes! They must have done our laundry."

"Can the Karakas-Torres clan adopt us?" he asked.

"AHA!" She pointed at him. "You said Karakas-Torres. I *heard* the hyphenation."

"No, you didn’t. And it’s not the same thing. I’m talking about two *different* families."

"Wrong. You’re talking about two different families who became *one* through marriage."

"Melana uses just Torres."

"So?"

"Take a page from her book."

"It’s a very nice book." She smiled when he stepped onto the dock and reached for her, helping her out. "Do you think it’ll be horrible? The rest of the story?"

"Probably, but we know the happy ending, baby." He leaned down and kissed her. "Let’s go play explorer."

"Your shoes are wet."

Mark led her to the end of the deck and toed off his sodden sneakers. "Barefoot explorer then." He dug his toes into the sand and sighed. "Ahhh, nice."

Addison handed him his dry clothing and shucked her own shoes, leaving them beside his. For good measure, she took a photo of them and laughed when he called her a ‘damn tourist’. She was still laughing when she followed him into the woods. She got a nice photo of his naked backside as he changed and hung his wet things over the limbs of the tree that had failed to hide his nudity.


Their first visit to the island had been brief. Xeno had been a gracious host, but they had not stayed very long. Now, they explored the ruins more closely and enjoyed the many stories they hatched about what could have happened to cause such destruction to the old church.

"Why do you think they didn’t rebuild it?" Addison asked, running her hand over a wooden pew that was pristine, though covered in ivy.

Mark glanced up at the gleaming white cross that rose high into the air out of the rubble. "I don’t know. Maybe they decided not to believe in fairy tales or -"

As soon as he said the words ... something bit into his foot. He yelled out from the shock and looked down. A scorpion was a few inches away from his heel and there was blood rolling down his skin. Addison followed his gaze, saw the creature, and threw the camera at it. Naturally, she missed and the heavy Nikon landed on his foot, causing him to hop up and down. "Addison, for Heaven’s sake!"

"KILL IT! SQUISH IT!"

"Stop yelling!" Mark snapped. He retrieved the camera and pushed the scorpion away. "Do you think it’s poisonous?"

"Aren’t they always?" Addison leaped onto the pew when the scorpion scuttled her way. "AHHHHH! KILL IT!"

"No!" Mark flopped down beside her, crossing his leg so he could see the damage to the back of his foot. "Can you focus here? I may be dying."

"Healing spring!" She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Let’s go."

"I really think I should -"

"Come on!" Addison stood up in the pew and made a wide leap to the side to avoid the scorpion.

Mark followed her, limping slightly. He crossed his arms and watched as she rinsed the wooden cup and filled it at the waterfall. She held it out to him and he obliged, taking a few sips. She followed suit and nodded her head at the pond. "Okay. Get in."

"We are people of science, Addison. I’m poisoned and I need to go -"

"Get in before I shove you in," she replied, her eyes searched every inch of sand around her for another scorpion. "Hurry up."

"Please tell me you don’t believe this." Mark stepped into the pond, arms still crossed. "Because if you’re gonna go crazy I’d at least like you to .... wow."

"I know, right?" She grinned at him. "Isn’t it amazing?"

He squatted down and touched the surface of the water. "It’s hot."

"And tingly?"

"That too," he agreed. "Come in with me."

"I don’t have a reason."

"Jesus, Moonbat." He scowled at her. "It’s water. Water is only ever water and it can’t cure sickness or bites or cancer or -"

"You’re wrong."

Addison spun on her heel to look at Xenos, who was walking toward them with one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Her chestnut brown hair was streaked with gray and her sparkling blue eyes seemed to match the water behind her. Addy watched him assist the woman over a fallen limb and smiled in greeting. "Hi."

"Addison, Mark, this is my with Athena Niarchos Karakas. Athena, these are the newlyweds."

"Congratulations," the woman said, clasping Addison’s hand, then Mark’s. "I understand you’re friends with Calliope. Tell me, how is she?"

"She’s good," Addison replied. This was the Athena that Melana had beaten up for making fun of Xenos. She was tempted to comment about it, but the diary was supposed to be private. "She took a bad spill the other day, but she said she’s fine."

"She’s always fine. Nothing can keep that one down. She’s got her mother’s fire and her father’s heart." Looking down at the pond and Mark’s submerged feet, Athena added, "Did you hurt yourself, son?"

"Scorpion." Mark shrugged. "At least I think it was."

"They’re relatively harmless." Xeno shook his head. "I hate that you encountered one, though. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I’m fine. Let me just get out and -"

"Wait," the old man held up his hand. "You must close your eyes first and tell us what’s there?"

"There?"
"Just do it," Addy told her husband. "Before we shun the nonbeliever. Shunnnn."

Mark took a deep breath, shot her a look, and closed his eyes. For a moment there was nothing there and then Derek’s face appeared. He pictured his friend the way he had seen him in high school, after they had taken Derek’s father’s car out for a joy ride and wrapped it around a tree. Derek had suffered a broken leg and wore the same troubled expression that Mark saw him with now. Opening his eyes, he gasped and looked at Addison.

"I saw Derek," he told her and while he would never admit it, the hairs on the back of his neck danced upward. He looked at Xeno and said, "What does it mean?"

"You usually see your heart twin," Xeno explained. "But it could be anyone."

"What’s a heart twin?" Addison asked, recalling the way that Callie’s face had swam in and out of her mind when she had waded.

"The person your heart makes family. Everyone sees someone. It’s the ones that the closest, however, that matter the most. When you see a loved one ... you take them water." Xeno held up a mason jar. "I believe you saw Calliope. She’s the reason I’m here."

Athena pulled another jar from her purse and held it out to Mark. "Please. Help yourself. Take some to this ... Derek, is it?"

"Oh, I don’t think -" Mark began, stepping out of the water.

Addison elbowed him and accepted the jar, smiling at Athena. She kneeled down and scooped water into it, watching as Xeno did the same. "Is it okay ... can I ask you how you know about this place?"

"Certainly." Xeno screwed his lid back on and watched her do the same. "Every family has their tales. Some are funny, some are scary, and some defy logic. Every one of our ancestors wrote about this pond. They claim that people came from all over the world to bathe in it. They claim that it could cure whatever ailed a person.

"I’m not certain what affliction I had as a child. Research suggests that it may have been polio or cystic fibrosis, but I was never formally diagnosed. I was brought here at fourteen to wade into the water and I was never sick again after that." Xeno grinned at Mark. "And it *can* cure cancer. Athena was told that she would never have children because of cervical cancer and we have three sons and she never had treatment. Have you met Anita and Mario? Callie’s godparents?"

Addison nodded.

"She was told that she had three months to live. She had endured several horrific surgeries and then refused treatment after that. Her dream was to see Melana’s homeland and Mel brought her here to live out the rest of her days, but she wasn’t ready to die. So, we brought her here and now ... she’s in remission." Xeno shrugged. "Don’t ask me how."

Mark chuckled. "You really expect us to believe -"

"It is of little consequence to me what you believe, Mark." Xeno’s words were dismissive, but his tone was light. "But I challenge you to show me where the scorpion stung you."

Mark lifted his foot.

After five minutes, he still couldn’t find the wound.

Xenos and Athena said their goodbyes while he was still looking. Addison set the two jars of water in the sand and grinned at her husband. "Are you freaking out?"

"It’s not possible. As soon as my foot doesn’t look like a prune, I’ll show it to you."

"Athena mentioned that there’s a flower garden nearby. Want to go see it?"

"And risk running into more scorpions? Sure, why not?"

"Chicken." She took his hand, leading him around the pond. The thought of scorpions kept her eyes firmly on the ground.

After walking for a few minutes, they stepped into a clearing and gasped. For as far as the eye could see there was an explosion of color and blooms. Bluebonnets, daisies, roses, and more dotted every spot of the ground. Bending down, Addison gently pulled a rose closer, breathing it in. "Callie’s bastard flower! In abundance."

"Should these things be growing in this climate?"

She shrugged. "I’m a *scientist*. Not an agriculture geek. But it looks like they’re thriving."

"God, it smells good," he replied, squatting down beside her. "Or maybe that’s you."

"It does smell good."

Their eyes were hooded when they looked at one another. Addison reached for him first, running her hand over his face before she kissed him. A moment later she was on top of him and he was flat on his back crushing the bluebonnets as he tugged her shirt over her head. As frenzied as their passion was, the moment they were both naked, they slowed. Flesh against flesh should have had the opposite effect, but Mark was suddenly overcome by the desire to rub her down with rose petals so he did just that, slowly covering her belly and pubic area with the silky, soft petals that he plucked one by one. His only comment was that the thatch of red hair between her thighs matched the rose tips and then he was massaging the petals against her skin.

He settled between her thighs after a while, sliding his tongue along every inch of her until he buried his face against the source of her heat and devoured her. She arched her back, digging her nails into the thick, hearty soil that had grown such beautiful flowers. Their coupling was lazy, unhurried, but their release was anything but. They made love twice, discovering new and inventive ways to touch each other.

Spent, Addison curled against his chest and closed her eyes as the sun warmed her well sated body.

They were asleep within minutes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~
CH 8
*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mark, wake up. God, it’s freezing!"

Rolling onto his back, Mark watched Addison fumble with her clothing. She was right. It was cold enough for him to see his breath in front of him, which was illuminated in the glow of the full moon over them. "Jesus. How long did we sleep? What time is it?"

"My watch stopped working."

He sat up and hit the light on his own watch. "Hmmm. Mine, too."

"Someone’s here. I heard them calling us." She threw his pants toward him. "Get up!"

"I’m trying! Hypothermia, here!"

Addison yanked on her pants, shivering when the cold fabric pressed against her skin. She pulled her shirt over her head and wrapped her arms around herself as Mark dressed. He had just as much trouble getting his limbs to cooperate as she had. He was fastening his belt when Barnacle rushed into the clearing and bellowed that he had found them to the high heavens.

"We’re sorry," Addison hastily told him. "We fell asleep and -"

"Bloody hell," Barnacle replied, tugging his long pea coat off and putting it around her. "You look like you’ve frosted over. Come on, let’s go. It ain’t wise to stay here so late."

"What do you mean?" Addy asked, letting him lead her back through the thatch of trees.

"More than just the ruins of that old church haunt this island."

Addison heard Mark groan behind her, but she ignored him and let her eyes dance left and right instead. "Someone died here?"

"Yes, ma’am. Papa Karakas, Melana’s father, died in the wreckage of the church."

"What!?"

"Many people perished that day. Some good, some bad." With a shiver of his own, Barnacle bypassed the ruins entirely and half jogged to the dock. "We ought not to speak on it here. Or ever. Nothing rustles up restless spirits like calling their memory."

Willa, Jonesy, and Demi were standing on the pier, watching their approach. Willa wrapped a blanket around Addison, then did the same for Mark as Demi helped them into the boat. Demi started the engine and pulled away quickly, not looking back. Addison did look back, watching the remaining three staff members climb into their own boat and speed away. There was a thick, heavy fog hanging over the island and when she looked forward, at Bounty’s Keep, she noted that there was no fog there at all. She leaned closer to Mark and mentioned it.

"Maybe there are ghosts. On that show ‘Haunting’, there’s always mist or -"

"I didn’t know I married that psychic from Poltergeist. Could you stop?" he snapped. "It’s not cute anymore."

"Mark, there’s something about that place! I know you felt it! You did!"

He shook his head. "No, I didn’t."

"Liar."

"Addison, stop." He shook his head. "You’re not this damn gullible. They probably cook this shit up and do it to everyone who visits. Don’t be stupid and -"

"Enough." Demi slowed the boat, letting it idle at the halfway point. He turned and glared at Mark. "You didn’t make a very good first impression on me. You were forcing your *wife* to carry her luggage and I overlooked that, young man, but I will not let you imply that she’s stupid or that my family and staff are less than honest. So, unless you’d like to swim ... be silent."

Addison had to fight hard to hide her smile. She shot Mark a look that was mocking and slid off the seat, going to stand beside Demi. The old man put an arm around her shoulder, positioning her in front of him. "I don’t want you to fall. You steer us into the grotto, Red Robin."

Addison shook her head and started to protest, but he lifted her hands onto the wheel and pointed out the opening in the cliff. She stiffened when he throttled ahead and he put a reassuring hand over hers. "Xeno told us about the ship that capsized and the child who died. He also told us about the mother and the curse."

Demi made a soft sound behind her. "We thought with Melana it was broken, but it wasn’t. Granted, she had Calliope, but bad luck has followed them for it."

"Callie’s not doing so bad." Addison assured him. "She has a great husband, a beautiful home, and her career is really taking off."

Demi eased the wheel to the left. "She’s uneasy. Our Callie. I sometimes wonder if her soul ever sleeps."

They crept through the cliffs and Demi sailed the boat right up to the rocky ledge. He tossed Mark a rope and asked him to tie it off, then stepped out and helped Addison. She thanked him and turned, blinking in shock at the sight that greeted her. Most of the staff had come down into the grotto and she was pummeled with questions as they ushered her through a different passage that led straight into the kitchens. "Is this the cave entrance?" she asked, nothing that they had all changed out of their uniforms.

"Yes, ma’am," Eros told her, extending a hand to help her up a set of rocky steps.

"I’ve got it. Thanks," Mark said to him, taking Addison’s elbow.


Eros nodded politely, pushing his dirty blond hair out of his face. Cut short, the out of control curls still flopped onto his forehead occasionally. As Addison watched him, she wondered if Callie had enjoyed playing with those curls. She had little doubt that she would. He wasn’t the type of man Addison could see Callie finding attractive. He was almost too pretty. The roots of his hair were dark, dark brown, but he clearly spent time in the sun because of the blond streaks and his impressive tan. His blue eyes looked natural, nothing like Cambyses’s eyes, which were lightened to blue due to the contacts he wore. She smiled at him he insisted on giving her his hand over the roughest step. "Thank you."

"There’s a very large fire in the dining room. Your dinner is ready," he replied, inclining his head. "If you’d still like for the staff to join you, we’d be honored. If you’re tired and wish to have dinner in your room-"

"No, we’d like to have dinner with you all," Addison told him, beaming. "Lead the way. I don’t know where I’m at in this massive house."

They did have dinner with the staff. Demi even joined and made a spectacular toast to the newlyweds that included a thinly veiled threat about what can happen to men who don’t honor and cherish their wives enough. By the time they ate dessert, Addison and Mark were warm, full, and extremely amused at the antics of the staff. They found out that Eros was actually Willa’s son, but Jonesy never piped up to say that he was the man’s father. Jonesy stiffened and left the room when the old woman mentioned her ex-husband, causing Willa to excuse herself and say goodnight. Eros apologized and said that his mother’s new boyfriend had an impressive jealous streak.

They avoided talking about the island or anything paranormal. Instead, the staff brought story after story to the table until well into the night about Melana, her brothers, and her children. It was in agreement by everyone in attendance that Callie and Cambyses were by far and away the Bonnie and Clyde of the family, always in trouble, always bringing Melana’s wraith down on them. Addison yawned once, after two in the morning, and the party ended, the staff apologized for keeping them overlong, and then Demi was saying goodnight.

Walking through the drafty rooms renewed the chill that Mark and Addison had awoken with at Talking Rock and they were relieved to see that the fireplace in their bedroom was roaring. They took a shower together, bathing only, then they dived under the cover and discovered hot water bottles in place to keep the sheets warm. "I want to live here," Addy said, rubbing her icy feet over the bottle on her side of the bed.

"It reminds me of Hogwarts," Mark replied, splaying his hand against her belly. "Wanna roleplay? I could be Ron, you could be Hermione, and -"

"Peeves could come and throw dungbombs at us?" She smiled at him. "I don’t think Demi likes you."

"I don’t think I like the way he flirts with you."

"He does *not*. He’s a sweet, caring old man who -"

"Enjoyed being pressed against your back on the boat and you let him."

"Whatever." She chuckled. "You’re jealous of a geriatric, baby."

"Manwhores know manwhores."

"You’re reformed. Maybe you’re losing your mojo."

Mark stuffed his hand under the pillow and his knuckle brushed against the diary. He pulled it out and grinned. "Want a bed time story? We’re almost finished with this one and can jump straight into the one when he was seventeen."

"Absolutely!" She put her hands behind her head, getting comfortable.


He watched her for a few seconds. "Addy?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I treat you bad? I mean, Demi said -"

"Demi’s the old fashioned one, Mark. I know I said you were, but he’s got that whole mentality of the dashing, debonair gentleman. It’s okay." She met his eyes. "But if you call me stupid again I’ll let him know. I bet he has old fashioned skills, too, and will put your ass in a rack. Or a guillotine."

"Shit." Mark’s eyes widened. "You scare me."

"Read."

"Can I apologize first?"

"For?"

"Making you carry your luggage and for ... for the things I said. On the plane and earlier. I’m sorry."

She pushed herself up on her elbow and kissed him. "You are the love of my life. I’ll give you a free pass on a few things because of that."

"Well, that’s mutual." He kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you right back."

"Can I tell you something?" he asked.

"Oh God." She sat up all the way, glaring at him. "If you have flirted with or had sex with *anyone* in this house or - or that damn Bianca person who was useless on the plane -"

"What!?"

"Mark!"

He sat up as well, his mouth agape. " was going to say that for the first time in my life I’m homesick for a place where it always rains and I usually hate it, but I’m *so* ready to get back and see everyone again."

"Oh. Well, I feel the -"

"You think I’d cheat!?"

"The last time you said you wanted to tell me something ... you told me that you had cheated."

"The last time you said ‘love of your life’ you were telling that it was Derek and that was why you were going to Seattle."

"If you want to hear yourself talk, then read!" Picking up the journal, she slapped it against his bare chest. "Otherwise, I’m going to sleep!"

Mark flopped onto his back and opened the journal, angrily flipping to the page they had bookmarked. "Dear Diary, today Raphael and I fought. He wanted to steal one of Papa’s cars and drive me to the doctor. It’s a very long drive and I’m not very partial to riding in automobiles, but he kept pushing me until I lost my temper. He shouted at me and it startled me so badly that I dove into the water to leave the grotto that he has been hiding at for close to four months now.

"He grabbed my ankle before I was under the water entirely and forced me back onto the ledge. He said he was concerned and that his love for me causes him to lose control of himself. We made up as quickly as the fight started and he was very concerned when he saw my naked body. He thinks I’m deteriorating, but I disagree. The red dress that Demi bought for me for my birthday is tight. I don’t know how I’m gaining weight when I seldom eat and lose that each morning, but I’m definitely fleshier.

"A letter from Papa arrived. He said that the business he is attending in America is taking longer than they anticipated. I fear they won’t be here for my birthday. It’s only two days away. Seventeen. I’ll be seventeen and I hate to greet that new chapter of my life while I’m feeling so poorly, but Raphael has promised a surprise and I will greet that day with a smile because of that no matter how horrible my condition is."

Mark handed her the journal, saying nothing. Addison flipped the page. "Dear Diary, it’s my birthday. I awoke to the wonderful aroma of flowers. There must have been hundreds lying on every surface of my bedroom, even my bed. Raphael stood in the corner, smiling at me, with a small box in his hand. After he gave me seventeen kisses, he pulled me from beneath the warm cover and kneeled down at my feet. When he opened the box, I saw the most glorious ring inside and he asked me to marry him.

"I was crying too much to say anything. I’m fairly certain that I nodded because he whooped his relief and lifted me in the air, spinning me in a circle. That was not a wise thing to do. It made me very dizzy and I barely made it to the bathroom before I collapsed, sick once more. He held my hair back, bathing my neck with a cloth, and that ... that is where Papa found us. Me in my night clothes and Raphael seeing me that way.

"Everything happened so quickly that even now, I’m not at all sure I’ve remembered it correctly. Papa flew at Raphael, bellowing his rage to the high heavens. Then Mother appeared and added her own dulcet tones to the choir. I was a pitiable mess, still hovering over the basin, when she grabbed my arm and wrenched me to my feet. I don’t know how many times she slapped me, but it was enough to cure the nausea and replace it with anger.

"I remember shouting that I loved Raphael, that we were getting married, and then my father took his belt off and began to hit me. Oh, it was horrific, but he only got two licks in before Raphael grabbed the belt and wrenched it from him. He hit my *father* with it, striking his back, his legs, his shoulders and all the while he was screaming ‘How does it feel!?’. Demi and Xeno burst into the room and separated the two of them. I was sobbing, losing my meager dinner again, and Raphael rushed to my side, swiping at the blood on my back.

"Mother shocked us all then. She jerked me upright and pressed her hand against my stomach. In front of everyone, she asked me when my last monthly cycle was. I hadn’t realized that it had been three months. Time has flown with Raphael ... or maybe it stopped. When I told her, she crossed herself and announced that I was expecting a child. A child! Oh, my hand hasn’t left my stomach much since then. I’m so ecstatic to carry a life inside me, to carry a part of Raphael, but I digress.

"Raphael told everyone that we were getting married. The fight started once again. Father lunged at him and knocked me off my feet with the force that he struck Raphael with. He kept screaming that Raphael was supposed to protect the family, not plunder it. He kept saying something about guarding us in his stead and not making him regret turning against The Triad. I’m not at all certain what it all means, but I didn’t like the sound of it.

"Father kept saying that he had trusted Raphael because The United States said he was the best at his job. It was Mama who stopped it. She marched into the fray and screamed at the top of her lungs to make them stop. Quietly, she turned to Demi and instructed him to tell the Priest at Talking Rock to prepare. Well, naturally I thought she meant to give my intended his last rites so I screamed as well. That was when she announced that we would wed immediately.

"So, I write to you now as a seventeen year old child. When we speak again, I’ll be married and a woman. Mother says I can not wear a white because it will undo all the good at Talking Rock and erase the prayers of the Saints and quite possibly cause my death. I’m wearing blue instead. Raphael seems to like it and it’s made from the fabric we purchased at the market the first day I ever saw him. I’m excited, diary, but I’m terrified as well. Papa is angry. He won’t speak to me or look my way."

"Damn," Mark said, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Damn," she agreed.

They let the silence hang around them as they looked at the room. Both were imagining it filled with flowers and the proposal that took place just beside the bed. Addison finally opened the journal again. "There’s blood on the page."

"What?"

Addison held it out and watched him take it. He held it closer to the light and nodded his agreement. "I can’t read it," she said. "It’s tear stained, too."

Mark cleared his throat. "Dear Diary, oh, my hands are shaking so. Raphael and I were wed at noon. The old bell at the chapel celebrated our union with so many chimes that it my ears hurt from it. The only souls in attendance were Mama, Papa, Demi, Xeno, Raphael, me, and Willa, who sobbed into her handkerchief so loudly that Mama told her to wait outside. I saw her peering through the window and had to smile.

"How I wish we had all waited outside, however. When the first gunshot rang out, I thought it was the bell again, letting the world know that the wedding was over and we were one. Then I realized that the Priest was clutching his neck and blood was soaking through his fingers. Papa yelled something in Spanish and while Raphael has been teaching me ... I didn’t understand it. Raphael grabbed me and Mama, forcing us under a wooden pew, where we clung to one another in confusion and fear.

"Demi opened the seat on another pew and pulled out guns. Guns in church! I didn’t believe my eyes. Raphael snatched up a particularly offensive looking black rifle that fired so many bullets it could cut someone in two. I covered my eyes unable to watch as men in black suits began to return the gun fire and run into the church. There were so many of them and so many that were falling under the spray of bullets that Raphael and Demi were sending into the onslaught.

"I remember screaming and screaming and then Raphael was pulling me to my feet. I grabbed onto Mama and we followed him out the front of the church. He made us lie down behind the praying hand rock and stood with his back against it, watching the doors. Demi and Xeno rushed out next, shouting that they had set the charge. Xeno covered me with his body and Demi covered Mama with his and then the earth exploded and I was convinced that the island was going to be ripped apart. I felt debris hitting me and I couldn’t breathe because of the dust and sand that was billowing.

"When I finally did look again ... the church was gone.

"And so was Papa.

"I saw his hand, with his Karakas ring sparkling in the sunlight, in the wreckage of the doorway. He must have tried to leave with his family and was crushed at the last minute. Demi and Xeno were frantic, trying to dig him out, screaming that they had done it, that they had set the explosives, that he must not have heard them yelling that it was time. Raphael dropped his gun in the sand and dropped to his knees to help dig my father out. I didn’t hear the gunshots until one of the bullets penetrated my hip and pulled me out of my stupor.

"I turned my head and saw one of those men, the ones in black suits, crawling toward us. One of his legs had been blown apart, but his trigger finger was in working order. I picked up Raphael’s gun before he could get to it and I was still shooting the man even though there was nothing left of his head after a while. Raph took it from me and lifted my dress yelling for Stavros’s shirt. I didn’t want to leave Papa and neither did Mama because she sat beside him, clinging to his hand, begging him to squeeze her own.

"Raphael carried me to the boat, apologizing, begging me to be strong. I was. I think. When we pulled into the grotto, Mama was screaming, begging for someone to go back and get Papa. Raphael lifted me into his arms and took me through the passageway to my room. I looked back at the grotto over his shoulder and I could only think of my first entry into your pages, Diary. I had sat there with you in my lap and I spoke about the somber party I had hidden away from. I’d give anything to go back in time and remain at that party a little longer with Papa. He was angry with me when he died. He didn’t walk me down the aisle and when I tried to speak to him just before the ceremony, he wouldn’t let me. He walked away.

"Raphael has many friends in the area because while he attended to the wound on my hip, our house filled with visitors. They’re all men, all carrying weapons, and one big hulking man named Leon wordlessly helped him bandage my hip. Raphael says the bullet went through cleanly and he stopped the bleeding, but he wants me to remain in bed because of the baby. A doctor finally arrived, one that I did not know, and he examined me himself before the sun rose.

"Grandmama gave me another journal. She couldn’t be here today. I just know that she will regret that. Papa was her baby son, the youngest, and this will destroy her. Xeno came to visit me before the medication sent me back into oblivion and he said that he had gone back to Talking Rock with Demi and some of Raphael’s friends. They retrieved Papa’s body. I asked about the state of his face because I want to look upon him one last time to apologize, but Xeno simply shook his head. As I closed my eyes, I could only conjure the image of the man I shot ... I wondered if Papa looked similar. There was so much debris on him.

"Raphael crawled into the bed with me and held me as I drifted off to sleep. I didn’t cry. He had asked me to be strong and I don’t want to ever disappoint him, but I cried inside. I screamed inside. Then I felt guilty thinking the baby could hear it so I stopped. Raphael says he must speak with me today. He was gone when I awoke and I sat about filling your remaining pages. One year. In one year, I have lost my father, gained a husband, and nurture a life that grows in me.

"I think perhaps I will never go back to Talking Rock. I simply can’t. Papa beat me there once and then Papa was beaten there in the ultimate fight. His life was stolen, taken away underneath a place of salvation and beauty. I can’t look at that place with fondness ... even if it did cure Xeno of his affliction. Perhaps to cure someone ... it must take another.

"I bid you a fond farewell journal. There are only a few lines remaining. I will cling to you for the rest of my life and even though I must replace you now ... the pages of the new journal are not gold trimmed and I’m certain that it’s imitation leather so it’s no match for you in quality, but I hope the quantity I fill it with never rivals yours in sadness. Goodbye."

Addison brushed tears off her face as Mark closed the diary and held it out to her. She gazed down at the tear stained pages and shook her head. "I never dreamed - Mark, she watched her father die."

"Raphael’s in the mafia. He is."

Putting the sixteen year old diary down on the comforter, she retrieved the one for Melana’s seventeenth year and opened the first page. "She was right. It’s not as nice."

"Let’s read it, not judge the quality."

"Dear Diary, I’m not entirely certain I like your layout or the way your pages want to curl, but you’re all I have at the moment so I shall make the most of our relationship. Raphael has gone. Papa, even in death, found a way to separate us. It’s been two months since I’ve seen my husband and I’m not altogether sorry about the miles that keep us apart. He told me a story, you see. He told me a story that I’m angered by, frightened by, and so unsure of that I don’t know what to believe. Mother won’t confirm it, but Xeno and Demi assure me that it’s the truth.

"My father was a member of an organization called The Triad. It was a group of three countries who rallied supporters to fight against The United States. Why anyone would choose to go after a country that I have enjoyed learning about is beyond me and apparently my father had a change of heart when he saw Pearl Harbor. I was not yet born for Pearl Harbor, but with my father’s help, in 1941, hundreds of people lost their lives. The United States blamed the Japanese and they were definitely responsible for the worst of it, but my father funded it and helped lay out the game plan.

"After that, my father fell into the background of The Triad and only funded it, he didn’t participate in the horrible misdeeds that were occurring. But he didn’t stop them either. I’m not sure why he had a change of heart, but when I was only a child, he began working with the C.I.A. That’s an agency in America that I don’t fully understand yet, but they tried to do something good. They accepted my father, took the wealth of information he provided, and were able to arrest many, many bad men because of his testimony.

"For years, while I was angry at his travels, Papa was going to a state called Virginia to meet with the C.I.A. And that’s where he eventually met Raphael. Raphael was a ‘newt’. He was just graduating from the academy there when I was fourteen years old. For two years after that Raphael was assigned to protect our family. I never saw him until that day at the market so I can’t be sure that he was really there, but he promised me that he was, that he was always just outside the house, watching and keeping us safe.

"Demi ran across him just after my sixteenth birthday and demanded to know the truth. Because of that, Leon and Raphael told him everything and began to train him as well. They wanted someone inside the house who could keep watch and understand weapons. That’s what Papa and Raphael fought about in the grotto the day I overheard. Papa didn’t want Demi fighting, but Raphael told him that it wasn’t to fight, it was to protect if need be.

"Xeno, once he was healed, began to spy on the training sessions and then appeared one day as pretty as you please and demanded to be included. They had little choice but to allow it and that’s why muscles began to spring up all over his body. It wasn’t due to the morning swims. There were no morning swims. He was running with Demi at the time. Papa was enraged by this development as well, according to Raphael, but he allowed it to happen when he saw how happy Xenos was with his accomplishments.

"I wonder if Papa would have been proud of me, who has never touched a gun, yet opened fire on the man who would have killed me. And Mama. Raphael said I’m a perfect shot, but I don’t feel perfect. The baby inside me is growing and moving. I can feel him all the time. Raphael is gone and the loss of him can not be chased away by the baby, no matter how often it kicks me. He left only two short days after Papa died. He stayed for the burial and to carry me to and from the gravesite because I couldn’t yet walk at the time.

"He had to go to Virginia to give a ‘briefing’ about what transpired at Talking Rock. He left behind a swarm of agents, as he calls them. They’re always patrolling the hallways and grounds. Leon, I believe, spends most of his time patrolling Willa’s bedroom, but I can’t say anything. I’m angry at Raphael for leaving me. He claims that he’ll send for me as soon as my paperwork is in order. Mama isn’t helping us. She never leaves her bedroom and when I ask her for any documents on my identity, she throws something at me and says that she won’t talk to the devil who caused her husband’s death.

"She says that the curse on our family, the curse on me because I’m the only girl to be born in years, is what caused Papa to have to die so horribly. I did not remind her that I was not yet born when Papa put the ball into motion that eventually crushed him. He was not a good man. He was not a very loving man, but he was Papa and I can forgive him in death.

"I cannot forgive my husband, however. He has left me and the letters that arrive every week do little to make up for my empty arms and wounded soul." Mark had paused to stare at his own wife many times during the reading of that particular entry. She had met his eyes with the same disbelief, the same shock every single time. "Dude. Raphael is in the C.I.A.?!"

"That’s minor." Addison’s eyes grew even wider. "Pearl Harbor? Papa Karakas paid for that, Mark. At least part of it. This place - this happy, beautiful place is stained with blood money. It’s stained with - destruction. That’s why they never rebuilt the church." She took the diary from him and shook her head. "I don’t want to read anymore tonight."

"Me either."

Addison put the diaries and the letters back behind the oil painting that swung open and headed to the fireplace, where she opened the metal curtains and threw another log into place. "Do you think Callie knows?"

"I don’t think she does. I don’t think any of the kids do. Not all of it. Melana said she got pregnant at nineteen, but we know that’s not true. So, she’s been pretending to be two years older than she really is or -"

"That would explain why she looks so young."

"It’s two years, Addy, not ten."

She shrugged and crawled back into the bed. "We’ll read the letters tomorrow. At least the ones that came before the next journal entry."

"We’re supposed to go snorkeling tomorrow."

"Fuck it," Addison shook her head. "I need to know what comes next."

"Sleep first, baby. It’s almost dawn."

She didn’t need to be encouraged beyond that.

She fell asleep and despite her troubled mind, she didn’t dream.

*~*~

"Willa," Melana snapped, her hands on her ample hips. She eyed the head housekeeper, her best friend up and down. "Why are you wearing *overalls*? I sent you a suitable uniform. I’m sure Addison and Mark think we’re backwards and crass."

"Sorry, Mel," Willa replied, trying to hide her denim clad body behind Eros. "They insisted that we not wear the uniforms. Said it made them uncomfortable, they did."

"And did you complain at the top of your lungs to make sure they knew *you* were uncomfortable?" Melana snapped.

"Of course not." Willa shook her head so hard that the gray bun on the top of her head fell to one side, looking like a lopsided horn. She watched as Cambyses emerged from the limousine and raced forward, flinging herself into his arms. "Oh, you big hulk! Look at you! Why must you wear those devil eyes, son? You have brown eyes! Not blue!"

"Hi, Willa." He gave her a kiss on the forehead and plucked on of the suspenders on her overalls. "Nice. All you need is a straw hat and a banjo and you can be a Greek hillbilly."

"What is that?" Willa demanded, swatting him on the backside when he winked and walked past her. Greeting Blake next, Willa pinched his cheeks and told him there were cookies in the kitchen and then she turned back to the limo and her smile faded. "Calliope?"

"Hey, Will." Callie hugged the woman fast, not wanting her to see too much of her face. She had not bothered with makeup and she knew that the bruises were still shocking, especially in the mid-afternoon sunlight. She started to walk around the housekeeper, but Willa wouldn’t let her. The old woman touched her cheek, her eyes filling with tears. "I’m fine," Callie assured her. "It looks worse than it is."

"Who did this to you?" Eros asked, striding forward. He brushed her hair back and shook his head. "I’ll kill them with my bare hands, gorgeous."

"Cam already did," she replied, letting him hug her. Behind her, Alex cleared his throat and she pursed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Willa, Eros, this is my husband Alex Karev. Alex, these are two of the greatest people you’ll ever meet."

"Oooh, he's adorable," Willa said, hugging Alex tight, her arms around his waist. "Welcome to the family, son."

"Thank you." Alex patted her on the back, glaring over her head at Eros, who was touching a bruise on Callie’s neck. He extended a hand to the other man, one eyebrow lifted. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, I’m sure," Eros said without so much as a look in Alex’s direction. "Callie, do you need to lie down? I’ll happily take you upstairs and -"

"I’m sure you would," Alex replied, finally prying Willa’s arms off. "But I can handle it."

Eros finally gave Alex his full attention. At six foot five, he had several inches on the other man and he looked down his nose at him. "Is that right? You plan on aimlessly wandering around the upstairs until you find an empty room or would you like for me to show you Callie’s favorite room so that she can be comfortable?"

"I’m sure Callie knows the way." Alex reached down and took her hand in his, then walked past Eros through the front doors. "Excuse us."

Melana smiled at Raphael, who looked amused. "Ahhh, jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Willa asked, looking up at Eros. "Why would -"

"Apparently our children had difficulty keeping their pants on while Calliope was visiting the summer before her nineteenth birthday." Raphael crossed his arms, also looking at Eros. "Would you like to explain that to me?"

"EROS!" Willa shouted, slapping his muscular bicep. "What do you mean?!"

"She was older than me!" Eros cried, rubbing his arm. "I was seventeen! I didn’t know what I was doing!"

"You didn’t know what you were doing?" Raph asked. "Why then ... did it keep happening?"

"EROS!" Willa shouted again, slapping the exact spot she had moments before. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?"

"Owww, Ma!" He took a step back, out of her reach. "It was mutual! And - she seduced me!"

Raphael marched up the steps. "Run, Eros!"

The man complied, ducking back through the house. They heard the clattering of his feet on the stone floor and Melana laughed into her hand. Willa and Raphael joined her. Finally, Melana said, "How are Addison and Mark?"

"They gave us a fright last night." Willa explained about them falling asleep at Talking Rock and about Barnacle’s mad dash to find them. "Naturally, none of the rest of us would set one foot off the pier."

Melana looked troubled. "They never should have gone alone."

"They’re no worse for the wear, Melana, but please ... what happened to Calliope?"

As they walked into the front hall, Melana told her everything. Willa began to cry and had to sit down on the steps. Mel sat beside her, an arm over her friend’s shoulders. "When you collect yourself, Willa, please call Demi and Xeno and let them know we’re here."

"Yes, I will."

"Thank you."

"Is - is she okay? Calliope?" Willa asked, swiping her face with a bandana she pulled from her pocket.

"No." Melana shook her head sadly. "Most assuredly not. She pretends to be, but I know better."

"Perhaps the healing spring -"

"Can come to her. She will never go there again." Melana sighed. "Nor will I."

"Mom?" Cambyses walked around the corner, his hands in his pockets. "The bar’s fully stocked and there are hundreds of bottles in the wine cellar. Maybe you can get a lock put on it?"

Melana nodded and looked at Willa. "She almost killed herself with alcohol a while back and then she drank again the other day. Before the attack. She has a problem, Will. See that there is nothing left out for her to find and have Barnacle give me the key to the lock."

"I’ll take care of it." Willa nodded, squeezing her hand. "Despite the circumstances, Mel, I’m glad that my best friend is home."

"Your best friend is glad to be home."

*~*~*~*~*~

Melana crept into her old bedroom. She wouldn’t have entered without knocking, but the dueling snores that came from the room indicated that it would be safe enough. She was only interrupting their sleep, nothing more. With a smile, she pulled the cover a little more snugly around Addison, who was half on top of Mark, and kissed her head. "Wake up, honey."

Addison opened her eyes, gazing up at Mel. "What -"

"We decided we were homesick and came to interrupt your honeymoon." Melana patted her face, then smiled at Mark, who was blinking at her like she was a ghost. "Hello, handsome! Sleeping the day away?"

"Am I dreaming?" he asked. "Two beautiful women in my room and -"

"My room!" Melana pointed her finger at him, then pinched his chest. "And don’t flirt with the elderly. If you give me heart palpitations I may succumb."

Grinning, Addison sat up, grateful that she had worn her faithful flannel pajamas. "Your home is so beautiful. And your paintings ... oh god ... that one of the view of Talking Rock, I’ve never seen anything like it."

"It’s yours if you’d like it." Mel looked over her shoulder at the painting in question. "I’ve no use for it."

Mark and Addison exchanged a quick look before she turned back to them. With a deep breath, Melana said, "We’re very sorry to intrude on your honeymoon. If you’d like to go back to Egypt for the remainder or possibly to the United Kingdom, I’ll make certain you’re -"

"Are you kidding!?" Addison shook her head. "We’ve been homesick, too! How’s Callie? She told me about falling at the wedding and ... I’m glad that I can give up my reigning title as klutz of the year."

"She’s here." Mel forced herself to smile.

"Callie’s here!?" Addison jumped out of the bed. "I have to go talk to -"

"She didn’t fall down the stairs." Mel shook her head. "We wanted to tell you the truth, but she wouldn’t let it ruin your honeymoon and even now ... she’s trying to think up something that will lessen the blow, but - I don’t think anything can."

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked, sitting up.

"I need to let her explain it and -"

Addison didn’t say another word. She raced from the room calling her friend’s name. She spotted Alex first, carrying luggage down the hallway toward one of the smaller, darker rooms. He put the suitcase down and hugged her, hanging on tightly. Swallowing hard, Addison said, "What happened?"

"She’s outside." He let her go and picked up the luggage, not meeting her gaze. "She looks bad. So-"

"Outside where?"

"Out front. She said she wanted to see the orchard for a minute. And I can’t tell you what happened, Addison, because I don’t know what she’s gonna tell you. She may lie again to keep from-"

Addison darted down the stairs. Her bare feet were freezing, but she didn’t bother to turn around for shoes. She spotted Cambyses and Blake, but they didn’t speak and neither did she. She had *known*, she thought. Even when Callie was explaining about the nasty spill she had taken at the church, Addison had doubted the validity of the story. Some part of her was not shocked that it had been a lie because she had expected to hear at any given moment that something horrific had happened to her best friend.

She ran down the stone steps of Bounty’s Keep, darting around Raphael, who simply pointed in the distance. Callie was sitting with her back to the house and Addison was so relieved to not see a wheelchair or crutches or loss of limbs that she stopped running and worked on catching her breath as she approached. "Callie?"

Shoulders stiffening, Callie pushed herself to her feet, but kept her back to Addison. "Hey. Have you tried the fruit yet? You’ll never taste anything sweeter."

Addison stopped a few feet away. "Yeah, it’s good."

"I think I’ll walk down there and find an orange. I’ll be in later."

"Callie, wait." Addison closed the distance between them and put her hand on Callie’s shoulder. "Turn around."

"They’re just bruises. They’ll fade."

"Turn around."

Callie took a deep breath. "I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin your honeymoon. I didn’t want to come here, but -"

Addison stepped around her and gasped, covering her mouth. With her free hand, she cupped Callie’s cheek, then pressed a kiss to the worst of it. Saying nothing, she wrapped her arms around her friend and clung to her. Callie buried her face in her neck and gripped her flannel shirt. It felt like coming home ... for both of them.

"I missed you," Callie said softly. "A lot."

"I missed you, too." When Addison stepped back, she was crying. "You didn’t fall down the stairs."

"No." Callie wiped her own eyes. "I don’t want to talk about it, though. I want to forget it."

Addison looked into her eyes for a few seconds and that was all it took for comprehension to dawn on her. "Who did the rape kit?"

With a gasp, Callie shook her head. "Bailey, but it wasn't - they stopped him before he - how did you know?"

"Because I’ve seen that look on a lot of female faces. I never, ever wanted to see it on yours." Addison started to cry harder. "Can I help you? What - what do you need me to do?"

"There’s more."

"Tell me."

"You look cold. It can wait."

"I’ll freeze to death before I walk away from here not knowing."

"I’m about to see a look on your face that I never wanted to see there either," Callie sobbed and shook her head. "You’re going to be so disappointed and I hate it, but I can’t change it. I drank again, Addison. A couple of weeks ago. I got drunk with Sydney and then I almost did it again the day before your wedding and I - so help me God, Addy, I’d do it again right now, too."

Addison purposely kept her face impassive, even though it took all of her resolve. Her heart had fallen even further and she had thought that was impossible. Reaching down, she took both of Callie’s hands in hers. "You’re not going to do it right now. Or ever again. Because I won’t let you and because ... you owe me for lying to me about what happened to you. What the hell were you thinking!?"

"I didn’t want to ruin your honeymoon," Callie repeated. "This should be the best time of your life and -"

"Cam may be your biological twin, but I’m your heart twin and I knew that something was wrong. You’ve been on my mind this entire time and -"

"You’ve been hanging around Uncle Xeno."

"I didn’t need him to tell me that. I know what you are to me." Addison brushed a tear off Callie’s cheek, lingering to touch the discoloration on her jaw. "Who did it?"

"A waiter at your wedding."

"WHAT!?!? This - this happened at the Church?"

"Yeah. I think my relationship with God has been annulled."

"How far did he - I mean -"

Callie didn’t need to let her finish. "He was cutting my dress off when Derek tackled him. Derek got hurt and needed surgery on his arm, but he’s fine. He’s okay. And Cam --- Cam killed the guy. He’s wracked with guilt over it because --- you know, he *killed* somebody. And all I can think it that I’m the reason and -"

"Don’t you dare feel guilty." Addison shook her head. "Because it’s *not* your fault. Any of it."

"The guy who attacked me bought me the first drink the night I got drunk with Sydney. So, yeah, Addison, it is my fault. If I hadn’t done the air show, if I hadn’t forced Alex to leave me, I would have been home with him that night and that guy wouldn’t have remembered me at your wedding."

"That guy was probably a sick bastard who would have gone after you no matter what, Cal."

Callie regarded the red head for a while. "You’re supposed to be yelling at me."

"Oh, I plan on it, but right now I’m basking in having you here and it’s impossible to yell and bask at the same time."

"I want someone to yell at me. I need someone, anyone, to be as pissed at me as I am. I was kinda hoping that would be you."

"We’re Thelma and Louise, Callie. I’d go over a cliff with you and I’d smile the entire time because you were there, too." Addison pushed her friend’s hair back. "When it doesn’t hurt to look at you ... I can yell at you .. it’s that’s what you need from me."

"Promise?"

"I do."

Callie smiled at her. "I really do love you."

"I really do love you, too." Addison bent her toes. "But I’m going to lose my feet if we don’t go inside."

"I’m going to go to the orchard." Callie glanced up at the house. "Yeah, oranges are good."

"Nope." Looping her arm through Callie’s, Addison headed for the front steps of Bounty’s Keep. "I’m not going to yell at you and to compensate for that ... I’m going to stick to you like glue and make sure you don’t give me any more reasons to snap your neck like a twig."

"Damn! You’re taking a page out of my mother’s book."

"If you only knew."

*~*~*~*~*~

Mark put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. "I’m sorry. I wish - can I do anything?"

"You can check the stitches on her leg," Alex replied. "She was supposed to be getting them removed later this week, but here we are."

"You don’t seem too happy to be here."

Glancing out the window of the bedroom, Alex could only shake his head. He definitely was not happy. At all. Callie had stayed in a private room of the plane for the most part, not eating, not talking. He had tried to talk her into watching a movie or playing a video game, but she refused, gazing out the window and not really meeting his eyes. He had stuck by her side for the entire trip, asking her questions and trying to engage her in conversation, but the most he got was an occasional yes, no, or I’m not sure. She hadn’t spoken to her family either. The most she had said was to Eros and that was just infuriating as far as Alex was concerned.

"Is there something else going on? You two aren’t back together or -"

Alex looked at him. "We caught her trying to run away last night. She had fueled her plane to go to Alaska and we had a horrible fight. I don’t want to fight with her while she looks the way she does, but it’s like ... she wants me to. She wants all of us to."

"Of course she does," Mark replied. "Having you all scream at her while she’s black and blue proves that nothing has changed. She's still Callie, she's in there. If you can lose your temper it means that you’re still passionate and you still care enough, even with the bruises, to let her have it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Mark chose his words carefully. "I do a lot of reconstruction on victims of violent crimes. A lot. Too much. And they always say the same things. That they’re getting the scars removed or their face put back together because people don’t treat them the same way. They don’t want that to be the first thing people see. They want it to be like it was. Callie’s probably thinking the same thing. That you all look at her and see the bruises and you won’t speak up and take her ass to the mat for being dumb. That’s why she was running, Alex. To make you lose it, to prove that you can open both barrels and not feel sorry for her."

Callie and Addison came into the room. Mark flinched when he saw her, but he pulled her into his arms and said, "Bet the other guy looks worse."

"Bet the other guy looks dead," she replied, smiling at him. "Do you like the house?"

"Love it." Mark let her go and watched her close the blinds. "You’re blocking out a perfect view of Talking Rock. That place -"

"Is evil," Callie said. "I hate it."

"You hate it?" Addison asked, frowning. "We loved it. It’s beautiful over there. You told me it was hallowed, you didn’t say -"

"Oh, it’s been blessed. Many, many times." Callie shrugged. "It’s consecrated, but I don’t think prayers can go that deep. How far did you go when you explored it?"

"We got to the flower garden."

Callie shivered and flipped a switch, starting a fire in the grate. "Beyond that ... there’s a clearing with a stone altar. The women of my family used to go there and practice The Thesmorphia. It was a ritual sacrifice where they would call on Kalligeneia to bless their crops and fortify their land while they slaughtered pigs to mix with their corn seed. They eventually graduated from pigs to people. They killed a child, a boy, who was sailing through with his mother. She put strange symbols all over the house and desecrated the altar and then she killed herself.

"And one by one all of those women who participated in The Thesmorphia died that same year, but the flower garden, which was never there before, cropped up bigger and better every day. A lot of people say that Karakas women carry a curse and that each individual flower type that grows there was born of their deaths. There are eight types that grow in abundance and none are really native. There were eight women, too." She looked back at the closed blind, picturing the island in her mind. "It should be burned to the ground."

"You’re mother named you after Kalligeneia." Addison said. "Right?"

"Yeah." Callie took a deep breath. "She thought that giving me that name would break the curse and stop pissing off Kalligeneia. Clearly, she was wrong."

"I have no idea what you people are talking about," Alex said. "All I can say is ‘huh’?"

Callie grinned at him. "Everything planted on that island multiples. The Karakas women who slaughtered *people* for their crops got their wish. Everything blooms year round. But over here, on this side of the water, it’s a struggle to get *anything* to grow on our land."

"The fruit trees are doing great," Mark said. "I’ve eaten so many oranges I may never be the same."

"No one with Karakas blood can tend the orchard," Callie told him. "Everything dies if they do. My great grandfather was the one who realized that. He hired men from the market to work instead of using his sons and the crop was huge. Since then, we’ve always had gardeners."

"Let me see if I can get this straight," Alex scratched the back of his head. "There’s a demon island across the water where your ancestors, all women, killed people to get a better crop. And now you’re cursed because of that and Karakas blood kills fruit trees. Am I doing okay so far?"

"But the healing spring," Addison blurted. Mark nudged her and she added, "Your Uncle Xeno told us that it cured him of his sickness."

"He’s an old man," Callie replied. "Just smile and nod."

"But you asked me to tell him to send you some water." Addison reminded her. "What was that?"

"That was me humoring him."

"You don’t believe it?" Addison asked.

Callie scoffed. "Uh, no. Water is only ever water and it can’t *cure* anything except dehydration."

"Oh my god!" Mark pointed at her. "I said almost that same thing word for word."

"Let’s see where the scorpion stung you, Mark," Addison snapped. "Oh, that’s right. He got in the water and it went away."

Callie chuckled. "Of course it did. We used to purposely get stung because it was an adrenaline rush and the welts faded within ten minutes."

"He was bleeding," Addison pointed out. "It should have left *something*."

Mark and Callie exchanged amused looks. Callie said, "Is she a believer?"

"I think so," he replied, shaking his head. "She’s about one step away from joining the Ghostbuster Admiration Society or the Psychic Friends Network."

"I have a jar of water in my room, Callie," Addison told her, ignoring Mark entirely. "Why don’t you prove that water is only ever water."

The smile faded from Callie’s bruised face and she shook her head. "Some other time."

Melana knocked on the door and poked her head inside. "Calliope, why have you chosen the darkest room here? For Goodness sake, the yellow room is available."

"That’s why it’s available. It’s *yellow*." Callie wrinkled her nose. "I like *this* room."

"Alex?" Melana shot him a pointed look.

"It’s fine." Alex glanced at the black walls and navy blue curtains. "Who was the decorator?"

Coming all the way into the room, Melana moved closer to the fire, prodding the wood with a poker as she turned the gas starter off. "My mother took my father’s death very badly. This was his office for a while, the place he spent a majority of his time when his business travels allowed him to be home. After he passed away, my mother had the walls painted black for mourning and the bed brought in for herself. She stayed here in this room for years, never coming out, because she felt closer to him here."

Addison glanced at Mark. "Uh, Melana what happened to your mother?"

"Oh, honey, that’s not a very good story and -"

"She committed suicide," Callie said, cutting Melana off. "She jumped off the glass balcony and fell to her death. Which, you have to admit, took balls."

Melana gave her daughter a look that caused Mark and Addison to back up. Alex casually moved between the two women. Undaunted, Melana addressed Callie. "You think that takes balls? You’re right. It takes a hell of a lot more than *you* have. It’s not difficult to drink yourself into a stupor, is it? After a while, you don’t even think at all. The liquor numbs everything. That’s a *selfish* way to die because you should *feel* it, but you’re nothing if not selfish."

Addison took Mark’s hand and pulled him from the room. Alex watched them go, wishing he could join them. "Melana-" he began.

"No, let her say it." Callie interjected. "The floor’s all yours, Mom."

"Loving you is exhausting," Mel told her. "Exhausting. You seem hell-bent on pushing Alex away, pushing us away, and destroying yourself, but you’re forgetting one very important thing when it comes to me. I can’t give up on you. I carried you inside me. I’m you’re worst enemy and you’re biggest fan. So, you can push with both hands, hell, you can drink with both hands and after I finish knocking you on your ass ... *I* will be the one who pulls you back up because I have to. You’re *mine* and you will never push hard enough that I can’t reach you."

"I know -"

"Calliope, I’m not finished so keep your mouth shut." Melana straightened her spine, pulling herself to her full height. "I am very sorry that you were attacked. I am very sorry that anyone would dare hurt you as much as this man did, but you will not hide behind those bruises. You are accountable for the drinking and as God is my witness ... you will admit that, face it head on, and bury it because it will *not* happen again."

Callie opened her mouth, but Melana held up a hand. "Still not finished, sweetheart." Strolling forward, Melana looked her in the eye. "Welcome to rehab. Perhaps we should call it Camp Hell."

"What?"

"The first thing you’re going to do is move to the yellow room. Because it’s *cheerful* and it’s high time you leave the dark." Melana tilted her head to one side. "Then you’re going to eat dinner and not pick at it or push it around on your plate and then - then you’re going to sit your *cheerful* ass in the blue room for an intervention. Now, I’m finished, but the only thing out of your mouth better be ‘okay’."

"Okay." Callie’s eyebrows had vanished behind her bangs.

Melana nodded and started to walk out of the room, but Callie caught her hand. She waited to see what her daughter would say, then gasped when she wrapped her arms around her. "Honey?"

"Thanks, Mom. You - you heard me. What I couldn’t say."

"Loud and clear, mi vida."

The remainder of the evening progressed just as Melana said it would. Callie and Alex moved into the yellow room and Alex told his wife it was much, much better. They had dinner and Callie ate, aware that everyone was counting her bites ... in Cam’s case ... out loud. Her uncles arrived after dinner and they both had horrible reactions to her bruises. Xeno wanted to fly to Seattle, find Randy’s body, and strangle him for good measure. Callie had to laugh and it felt good. Because Xeno was the runt of the family and had a case of Napoleon complex that always made him go for violence first.

The intervention was informal. Everyone lounged comfortably in the blue room with their bellies full and a stack of cookies in front of them. Alex sat on Callie’s left, Addison to her right, and Mark sat in the floor with his back against Addy’s legs. Instead of putting Callie on the spot by telling her how her drinking had impacted *them*, they each told her how it affected *her*.

Melana talked first. "Seeing you in the hospital after you almost died was surreal. Because you’re not that person. You’re not weak or sickly, but alcohol made you both of things. You still wear the scars inside, on your liver and pancreas, and it’s something you’ll have to deal with for the rest of your life."

Raphael cleared his throat. "You’re smart. You’re way smarter than your brothers which is why I only got one doctor out of the bunch, but that one doctor is amazing. You’re good at your job. I’m proud of you, but you can’t be a doctor and have this addiction because there could come a time that you’re hungover or still a little tipsy and someone gets hurt. I want you to have the career, Mija, because you worked hard for it."

"Well, that was kind of rude and insulting to *me*. I could have been a doctor. A witch doctor." Cam bit his bottom lip when Callie smiled at him. "I can always tell when you’ve been drinking, Cal, because your voice is sad. I don’t think drinking makes you very happy and life is so short that we have to hang onto what makes us happy and let go of the rest."

Beside him, Blake nodded. "I agree. Plus, you’re game face is more believable when you’re sober. A drunk could not have pulled off the demon dog. That was the genius work of a non-intoxicated mind."

Demi took a deep breath. "I gave you wine when you were ten and you spit it all over me. You hated it. I’d gladly let you do that again and again if it would help. I would gladly die if you'd only-"

Xenos rolled his eyes. "Demitri, must you always make the grand, sweeping gesture?"

"It’s a gay thing," Cam told him. "We’re all about exaggeration."

"You’re gay?" Mark asked Demi.

With a nod, Demi said, "I would make the exception for your wife so keep walking the chalk line, buddy, because I’m watching you."

"He’s a hair puller," Xeno told Mark, then looked at Callie. "You’re our girl, Opie. Our pride and joy. I held your hand when you took your first step and I remember thinking that you were one step closer to walking away. Alcohol makes your step crooked and you struggled so hard to stay upright. Stay upright, darlin’."

"I won’t lie to you ... you’re a funny drunk," Addison said, taking her hand. "But you’re a lot wittier when you’re sober and we have more fun without it than we ever did with it. I mean, how many people can say they’ve glued their head to the wall and their ass to the toilet and can’t even blame beer?"

"God, that was funny," Mark laughed. "The first time I met you, Callie, you were drunk. You were very, very drunk. And ... you didn’t have ... well, you know what happened and -"

"We don’t." Demi’s eyes were narrowed. "Please, enlighten us, Mark."

"Some of us know and wish we didn’t," Raphael told his brother in law. "Let’s leave it at that."

"Red Robin," Demi called to Addison. "Does being a widow appeal to you at *all*? Because now it’s personal for me."

"Sorry." Addison kissed Mark’s head. "He’s a changed person which means that there’s hope for Callie, too."

"I was never a sex addict," Callie said softly, so that only her friends could hear.

Alex and Mark both coughed, masking their ‘bullshits’ as they did it. They grinned at one another, then Alex looked at his wife. She had her eyes downcast and the smile on her face wasn’t convincing. "I guess I’m the last one who needs to say something, huh?"

"Be gentle," she told him under her breath.

He lifted her hand and kissed it, then kissed her cheek. "I love you. Even at your worst, you are still the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I know you. That’s the worst part, Gothika, because I know that you’re better than this, that you don’t know *how* to let something beat you. Drinking for you will be a slow suicide because of the damage that you've already done. To quote our favorite movie ... would you consider me as an alternative to suicide? Because it’s forever either way. Death is final, but so are we, and there’s still so much of our story to tell. I’m not ready for that last chapter. I’ll never be ready and it kills me to think that you might be."

"I’m not," she replied, swiping a tear off her cheek. "I don’t *want* to drink again. I swear to God, I don’t."

"Then don’t," Melana said. "Your first word was ‘no’. You said it nonstop. Keep saying it ... it should come easy to you."

Callie nodded, leaning her head against Alex’s shoulder. He hugged her, kissing her head. "Are we done?" he asked. "She’s tired."

"Are we done, Callie?" Raphael asked, his eyes locked on hers.

"I heard you," Callie glanced at Melana. "Loud and clear."

"Then goodnight. Sleep well." Melana got to her feet and hugged Callie. "I love you. Always."

"I love you, too." Callie kissed her cheek and looked around the room. "All of you. Well, maybe not Mark, but -"

"Hear hear!" Demi said.

"But I like you an insane amount," Callie told Mark, who grinned at her, then caught her leg. "What?"

"Let me take a look at those stitches."

"Oh, it’s fine," she told him, but he lifted her pants and did it anyway.

"This *has* to be Chief Webber’s doing." Mark shook his head. "He always drifts to the left. I think he’s asleep at the wheel sometimes."

"Don’t talk about our boss!" Addison smacked him on the back of the head, then looked at the wound herself. "Damn, it is crooked."

"Guys!" Callie held her hands up.

"I can fix it when we get back to Seattle. I am a scar expert!" Mark smiled up at her.

"Egotistical *and* rude," Demi said. "This is why I don’t like pretty men."

"Pretty men don't like you," Xeno replied. "Yanni wannabe."

"Dwarf."

"Old coot."

"Chihuahua."

"Kitten."

"Shut up!" Melana snapped at her brothers. "Why am I the only one in this family to mature past fifteen?"

"You're a solid ten at the most," Xeno told her, snatching the cookie from her hand. "But we'll keep you."

*~*~*~*~*~
CH 9
Dedicated to: tv_junkie118 <http://tv-junkie118.livejournal.com/>, nycbadgirl <http://nycbadgirl.livejournal.com/>, and greys_addict <http://greys-addict.livejournal.com/>, who are a constant source of inspiration, motivation, and celebration. You guys are made of win. :)

Callie sat on the edge of the boat, her feet dangling in the water. The black bathing suit she wore was modest, but it plunged in the back to reveal bruises that Cambyses had not yet seen. He had been unable to hide his reaction when she took her shirt off and no matter how she tried to reassure him, he had still gone below deck and she found him crying in the bathroom. It put a damper on the scuba diving trip, but only a brief one. She cracked a joke about Blake and his Speedo and Cambyses pulled himself together. He also told her that every bruise he saw on her made it easier to deal with the fact that he had killed someone. So, she showed him several on her thigh and pulled her suit aside to show him her ribs. After that, there was a bounce in his step and Callie breathed a sigh of relief.

She tired easily, which was why she returned to the boat to watch the others. She hated that her body simply would not let her stay in the water any longer. Muscles currently ached, her head was pounding, and her ankle was throbbing from the stab wound there. Lifting her foot, she gazed down at it. Mark had removed the stitches in both her leg and ankle that morning and she thought it looked pretty good. How it felt, however, was another story altogether. Both areas had swollen slightly from the stitch removal. And probably from her walking the orchard for over two hours.

"Hey." Alex kissed her knee and smiled up at her, still submerged in the water. "What are you doing?"

"Being lazy," she replied, smoothing his wet hair off his forehead. "You really took to this snorkeling thing."

"It’s fucking cold." Alex rested his chin on her leg, smiling. "Come back in and get me warm."

"The water is like ... four degrees."

"You in that suit? That would heat it pretty damn fast."

She slipped off the side of the boat, her arms around his shoulders. "How’s that?"

He moaned a little when she wrapped her legs around him. Cupping her backside, he kissed her, long and slow ... and they promptly went under. They came up laughing and she playfully tugged his ear. "You’re supposed to hang onto the boat, Jock Strap. Otherwise we’ll sink."

"What man in his right mind would hang onto the boat when you’re here?" He hooked his arm through the ladder anyway, and pulled her a little closer. "Put your legs back around me."

She complied, smiling when she felt how hard he was. "My goodness, Alex. There are eels in the water. Do you really want them to have anything else to bite?"

"If we were alone ... I’d make sure it was hidden." The smile on his own face faded when she stiffened in his arms. He could have kicked himself. The rape crisis worker had warned him privately against making sexual references or advances for a while. He moved his hand from her backside and placed it on her waist. "So, that story you were telling about your women ancestors ... that was a joke, right?"

Callie pulled the top of her suit a little higher, hating that she felt the need to. "No. Not a joke. Cam and I made a career out of snooping. We found old journals that were probably a hundred years old or more in the secret passages of the house. I don’t think anyone else ever read them because they were in pretty bad shape, but everything was chronicled there. My uncles like to tell the story that was passed down for generations, though. They’ll tell you that a boat capsized in the grotto and a child drowned there, causing his mother to say that we were cursed to have only boys for taking hers."

"Where did they hear that?" he asked, willing his hard on to go away.

"I don’t know." She looked over his shoulder at Bounty’s Keep. "What I do know is that they carved the place right into the rocks because they knew that the only foundation they had was made of lies and supported with destruction. So, they built it there ... thinking that the rock would be strong enough to hold it up. It may look impressive, but it’s a house of cards."

"Do you hate it here that much?"

"I don’t hate Greece. I love the food, the people, and the scenery. But I don’t like the history here and I don’t like that any part of that runs in my veins."

"Everybody has a bloody history, baby. Everybody."

She rubbed her hand over his shoulder, which was sunburned. "Have you called your mother?"

"No."

"You should. She’s probably worried."

"Melana left her a message. And the ferret."

"I’m sure she’d like to hear that you’re okay."

"I’m not okay where she’s concerned. I have not forgotten what she said to you or that you were running right after she said it. I know that was a big reason you were flying to Alaska."

"I really cannot handle messing up your relationship with your mother. So, forget it happened and call her. She didn’t mean anything by it, Alex."

"She has only been in our lives for ten months. That’s not enough time for her to know *anything* or have the right to comment about it." He absently adjusted the strap of her suit. "What did she say exactly?"

"I’m not doing this."

"Tell me. Please?"

"She just reminded me that your dad had a problem with alcohol and she said that you didn’t deserve to live through that twice. And she’s right." Callie let her legs fall from his waist and climbed the ladder, lifting a towel and wrapping it around her body.

Alex followed behind her, grabbing one for himself. It was warm, having been left in the sun. "Callie, it’s different."

She pursed her lips and stared out at the horizon, trying hard not to cry. "I just want you know ... if we have kids -"

"*When* we have kids."

"When we have kids," she amended. "I won’t treat them the way your dad treated you. And you won’t have to be like your mother."

"Where is the coming from?" He ran a hand over his hair, then his eyes widened. "Did she say that? Did she mention kids, Callie? Did she actually imply that you - that we -"

"She’s worried about you."

Alex pulled her around to face him. "My dad was more than just a drunk. He was addicted to cocaine for a while, then he moved on to heroin. And he never, ever had a year of sobriety from *anything*. He was cruel, abusive, and didn’t give two shits about his family. He couldn’t hold down a job, he didn’t know what self respect was, and he tormented my mother every second of the day. You are *nothing* like that."

"Are you sure? Because my family may tell you that I don’t give two shits about them. And I seem to be really good at tormenting you."

"You have *got* to stop this. I have never known anyone who loves their family more than you do. And I think I made it very clear last night that I love you. Yes, you have flaws, but so do I. We’re not perfect ... unless we’re together and then we’re *invincible*." He hugged her. "So, can we stop now? Can we just stop the doubt and the guilt and the second guessing and be *happy*?"

She nodded against his shoulder. "That sounds really good."

"Good." He kissed the tip of her nose then smiled when Addison shrieked in the distance, cursing Mark for scaring her. "Addison seems pretty hell bent on believing in healing springs and stuff."

Callie sighed. "Apparently. She never should have gone to Talking Rock."

"What happened there? To make you hate it? Was it just the sacrifice or -"

"No, but that was enough."

"Then what -"

Cambyses climbed onto the boat and Callie breathed a sigh of relief. She did *not* want to discuss Talking Rock. "Hey, you," she said to her brother. "Waterlogged enough?"

"I’m cold enough to hang in a meat locker to thaw out." He told her, bundling a towel around his shoulders and putting another over his lap. "Mark found a dead eel and ran it over Addison’s legs so she’s trying to drown him and Blake is trying to mediate. As for me ... I come out of the water when there’s any kind of death around."

"I heard that," Callie told him, sharing a knowing look.

"Uncle Xeno said he spotted a blue shark right around here the other day. Said it was about fifteen feet long, but that makes it closer to twelve because he claims to be five nine and we all know he’s closer to four nine." Cambyses chuckled when Alex dropped his bottle of water and scrambled to get it. "Awww, is somebody scared of a wittle fish?"

"There are sharks?" Alex asked, scanning the crystal clear water.

"Uh, ocean," Cam replied, pointing around them. "That’s where they live."

"Blues are pretty harmless," Callie assured Alex, leaning her head against his shoulder as she stifled a yawn. "I think I have jet lag."

"Let’s round our shark bait up and go show them the waterfall and cave and see if we can convince someone to jump off the Lager Cliffs." Cambyses got to his feet and whistled, waving at the others, who swam their way.

"If we’re going to get someone to jump, Cam, then it should be off the Devil’s Pitchfork." Callie grinned at Alex. "It’s eighty five feet of pure, stomach dropping free fall."

He didn’t look very impressed as he stepped forward to pull Addison onto the boat, then Mark and Blake, who scrambled into the towel that Cam held out. Callie was the only one Demi trusted with his new boat so she sailed them to the waterfall, but no one wanted to get back into the water. The wind from the ride had chilled their wet flesh to painful proportions so they contented themselves with snapping photos and listening to Cam talk about the rock formations.

After sailing through underwater caves, which they did explore for close to an hour, they were dry and warmer. Alex didn’t have to wonder why the rock formation that eventually loomed ahead of them was called the Devil’s Pitchfork. There were three towering rocks that were jagged and pointed at the top. The one in the middle stood taller than the ones that flanked either side and Alex could see the many ropes that had been secured to the sides of the stones to make it easier to climb up.

"Holy crap," Mark said, staring straight up. "Do people actually jump off that?"

"All the time." Callie idled the engine and smiled at him. "Feeling brave?"

"How deep is the water here?" he asked.

"Deep enough." Cambyses pulled on a pair of rubber shoes and tossed a pair to Blake, who shook his head.

"I did it once. That’s more than enough for me. I woke up with gray hair the next day." Holding the shoes out to Alex, Blake smiled. "No one should visit Greece and not do it, though."

Alex was aware that Callie was watching him closely. He slipped the shoes on and looked at Mark. "You coming?"

Mark glanced at Callie. Melana and Raphael had told them all about how scared she was. Of everything. "If she does."

"Oh, Mark," Addison said, shaking her head. "I don’t think that’s a -"

"Okay," Callie said, shutting the boat off and dropping the anchor.

Alex opened his mouth to protest, but Mark shot him a look. Callie pulled on a pair of water shoes and held a pair out to Addison, who gasped, "Who me?"

"Yes, you," Callie laughed. "Thelma and Louise, remember?"

"Damn it," Addison grumbled, pulling the shoes on. "I have *no* upper body strength so I’ll probably plummet straight to my death just trying to climb up there."

"What a way to go." Cam patted her on the back and dove into the water, breast stroking toward the rocks.

Mark followed suit, then Addison. Alex caught Callie’s arm and said, "Are you sure you’re up to this?"

"I was *born* for this," she assured him, kissing his lips before she dropped over the side.

"She’s not lying." Blake joined Alex at the edge, watching her cut through the water. "Mark’s got the right idea. If you let her hide behind you then she may always hide. She has to confront her fear head on and if *this* can give her back a little of the bad ass we *know* she has ... then make her jump ten times."

Alex grinned when she climbed up onto the rock and put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "I better go."

"You better." Blake shoved him off the side and bowed, grinning when he heard Callie’s laughter, then he reclined comfortably in the captain’s chair to watch the show.

*~

"Okay, it’s almost like a ladder," Cam said, touching the grooves in the side of the rock to prove his point. "There are hand and foot holds the entire way up and the rope is there in case you need it. It leans, so you don’t need a lot of strength to do it. You could almost do it with just your feet."

Addison started to walk back the way they had come, but Mark caught her around the waist and said, "You go ahead of me. I’ll catch you."

"I’ll go up first," Cam told her. "You just step where I step and let me know if you need a hand."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Addison said, watching Cam begin the climb. "I can see it now. The headlines. Four Idiots Who Claimed to be Educated Doctors Fell Off The Devil’s Pitchfork In Greece, Thereby Proving That Medical School is a Crapshoot."

"Go," Mark told her, half lifting her up the wall. He watched her dig her toes in and hang there. "Up, Addison. You look like a bat."

"If I were a bat, I’d bite you. Or at the very least I’d flail all over your head." She took a deep breath and reached up, grabbing a handhold. "Oh god, this sucks."

Callie watched her friend, telling her which place to put her hand. When she was a good twenty feet in the air, Callie nodded at Alex. "You’re next."

"I should go behind you," he said. "Of the two of us, I’m the one who is mostly likely to fall and -"

"If I’m under you ... you’ll take me with you and believe me, I’d want you to. Couldn’t live without you." She gave him a kiss, hugging him. "There’s one part that’s a little tricky at the top. Cam will be there to help you."

"I feel like the Dread Pirate Roberts." Alex began to climb. "And these are the clearly the Cliffs of Insanity."

She let him get several feet up the wall before she climbed up behind him. To amuse him and take his mind off the fact that he was not very fond of heights, she started the dialogue from the ‘The Princess Bride’. In a heavy Spanish accent, she spoke Inigo’s line. "I don’t suppose you could speed things up."

"If you're in such a hurry, you could lower a rope or a tree branch or find something useful to do."

She couldn’t say the next line. "I’m enjoying your ass. That’s pretty useful. For me at least."

"Don’t deviate from the script!" he said, glancing down at her. It was the wrong thing to do. He stopped climbing and dug his fingers deeper into the crevice.

Callie stopped as well. "Alex?"

"Gimme a second."

She wrapped the rope around her arm and swung out to one side, landing to the right of him. She climbed up so that they were face to face. With one arm still tangled in the rope, she kissed his cheek. "You’re almost there, Jock Strap. Don’t look down. Look up."

He did as she requested and saw that Cam was peering down at them from ten feet higher. Addison and Mark had already scaled the top. "Okay."

"You’re about to understand why I do things like this," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "When you get to the top and jump ... you’re weightless. You’re flying. Without wings, without a safety net, without a care. The only thing you hear is your heartbeat. The only thing you feel ... is free. It’s just a few seconds ... but you’ll never forget it."

"Are you freaks coming?" Cam called. "Because Addison’s threatening to call for a helicopter to come and get her."

Alex gave her a kiss before he climbed up the rest of the way. Cam pulled him up and leaned down to help Callie, but Alex shook his head, dropping onto his stomach with his hand extended. The view down caused his heart to drop again, but seeing her crawling toward him was enough to make it worth it. He fleetingly thought that it was like pulling her from the abyss to be with him. That, more than anything, made it worth it.

When she was on the solid rock surface, Callie hugged him. "Good job."

"There are rocks in the water," Cambyses said, rubbing his hands together. "So choose where you land very carefully because we’re a pretty damn good looking bunch and if we have to die ... we should be able to have an open casket. Pancakes aren’t pretty."

"Shit, Cambyses!" Addison cried, slapping his arm. "Can you stop acting like your sister!?"

Mark gritted his teeth, looking down for the second time. He could see plenty of rocks and none of it made him happy. Cam clapped him on the back, causing him to gasp. "Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’ll go first." Cam looked at Callie. "You gonna talk them down?"

"I’ll talk them or kick them," she replied.

"Good show." With a salute, Cam turned and pushed away from the rock, leaping head first.

Callie moved to the edge, smiling when she saw him do a couple of flips and break the water with a clean splash. He waved at her and swam toward the boat. "All clear. Who’s next?"

"Mark," Addison said, hugging him. "Just in case one of us -"

"Stop it!" Callie shook her head. "If you speak it, you’re inviting it."

"Cam said pancakes!" Addison cried. "And-"

"It’s okay." Mark gave her a kiss and moved to the edge, scanning the rocks. "Should I go head first or -"

"Nope. Hit the water feet first." Callie pointed at a big, clear spot between two rocks. "That way you won’t get turned around. Hopefully. Try to land right there."

Mark took a deep breath and exhaled. Without another word, he pushed off the rock and a moment later, hit in the exact location Callie had told him to aim for. He surfaced and waved to say he was okay and Addison almost sat down from relief. Instead, she clutched Callie’s arm and said, "This is crazy."

"Mi vida loca," Callie said, pulling her closer. "Tuck your arms over her chest. It’ll hurt your boobs if you don’t."

Addison covered her breasts and nodded. Five minutes later, and with a little impatient nudge from Callie, she jumped (fell) and screamed the entire way down. Laughing, Callie shook her head and watched her friend emerge choking and sputtering. "I forgot to tell her to breathe on the way down."

"I should have jumped with you on our honeymoon," Alex said suddenly. "On the bridge in France. Because you wanted to and it would have made you happy."

"I didn’t need to jump for that. Everything you did made me happy. Everything you *do* makes me happy."

He joined her on the edge, taking her hand. "Can we do this together?"

"You’ll have to let me go before we hit the water," she told him.

"I can let you go." He touched her cheek. "Because I trust that you’ll always come back."

"I trust that you’ll always come back, too."

"I’m not going anywhere. Ever again. Do you trust *that*?"

She nodded. "I do."

They faced the water and she said, "Aim between those two rocks. We’ll hit side by side. On three. One, two -"

"Three," Alex said, jumping.

Callie was right, he thought. They were weightless, flying, but still attached to each other. He felt her wedding ring just before he let her hand go and crashed into the water. When he surfaced, she was grinning at him. "Did you feel it?" she asked.

"I only felt you." He pulled her closer. "My wings, my safety net. And I’ll be high on that for the rest of my life."

"Get a ROOM!" Cambyses called. "Let’s go! It’s fucking cold!"

"I SHOULD BE AN ONLY CHILD!" Callie called. Her brother pulled his swimming trunks down and mooned her. She pretended to vomit as she pulled away from Alex and swam for the boat.

Cam tugged her on board and reached for Alex, then drew up short. "You’re bleeding, Callie."

Mark slipped off the deck seat and kneeled behind her, swiping at the blood. "It’s the cut on your ankle. I guess climbing wasn’t such a great idea."

Alex checked it for himself and swore, digging through the side panels of the boat for a first aid kit.

Wordlessly, Addison pulled a jar from her beach bag, unscrewed the lid, and threw the water inside on Callie’s leg. It was ice cold and Callie cried out from the shock of it. "Addison!"

"Sorry. It looked dirty." She put the lid back on the jar and stowed it in her purse, her eyes never leaving Callie’s ankle.

"Is that healing water?" Mark asked, rolling his eyes.

Callie gasped. "Is it?"

"What if it is?"

Cam shoved Callie off the boat and jumped in behind her. She came up coughing, but said nothing as her brother stayed under and rubbed her leg and foot like he was bathing it. When he came up beside her, his eyes were wide. Aware that everyone was watching them, she shook her head and smiled. "You’re so clumsy!"

"I can’t help it." Giving her the biggest, fakest laugh of all time, he added. "I slipped."

"What are you doing?" Mark asked, gazing back and forth between them.

"Nothing. Accident." Cam took the hand Mark extended, then helped Callie into the boat once more. Everyone noticed that he lifted her *over* the water that Addison had thrown. He went so far as to carry her below deck and when he emerged, she was not with him. He carried a mop instead, which he wet in the ocean, then scrubbed the deck with it. For good measure, he used a towel last, soaking up any excess. He left the towel *and* the mop on the rocky ledge and started the engine, sailing them toward home.

Alex headed below deck, followed by Addison and Mark. It was nothing like Goon Docks. The quarters were small and cramped, but they sufficed. Callie was sitting at a small table with her head down. "What’s going on?" Alex asked.

"Cambyses doesn’t like spring water," Callie replied, not lifting her head. "He thinks it’s dirty."

"I’m sorry," Addison said. "I didn’t think about germs or anything."

"It’s cleaner than the ocean," Mark assured her, still watching Callie. He spotted a first aid kit on the wall and opened it, rifling through the contents. "We should clean the cut and bandage it."

"I’ll do it." Callie stood, then quickly sat back down thanks to the glare Alex gave her.

"Let me see it," Alex said, reaching for her foot.

"I said I’ll do it."


"Callie, come on."

She took a deep breath and lifted her foot. Alex pulled the water shoe off and set it aside, then raised her leg. "What the -"

Mark squatted down beside him and ran his fingers over the wound. It had been red that morning, swollen and puckered. Now it felt smooth except for a small welt. "Holy fuck."

"Tooooold you," Addison sang, looking pleased with herself.

Callie glared at her. "The day you got in the spring ... your feet hurt, right?"

"Right."

"How far did you wade?" Callie asked her.

"Just to my ankles."

"Notice anything?" asked Callie. "Like, *my* ankle."

"What do you mean?" Addison made a face.

"It’s how it works." Callie pulled her foot away from Alex and Mark. "You went in to your ankles and then Mark got bit on the foot by a scorpion. And because you put the water on me, someone else will have to carry my pain so that means that *they’ll* get hurt."

Mark’s brow wrinkled. "I don’t get it. Are you saying I got stung because Addison walked into the water in the first place?"

"Yes. Nothing is ever free."

"You said it wasn’t true! You said it was fake!" Addison reminded her.

"Like everything else on Talking Rock, it gives more than it takes, but it does *take*. It never stops taking." Callie looked at the back of her leg, where the cut to her calf had been splashed as well. One side of the incision looked like a crudely drawn smudge with a red crayon, the other side was still swollen. "Everyone should be careful for a few days and -"

"You should get in the spring, Callie. It would help your bruises and -"

"Addison, have you heard me at all? Suffering through pain makes a person stronger. Giving it away when you *know* that someone else will have to deal with it in your place ... that makes you a coward." Callie gripped the edge of the table. "I could submerge in there right now and tomorrow ... or maybe the next day ... my dad could fall down the stairs and bruise his entire body. Or my mom could get in an accident. Or Alex could -"

"I think any of us would take your pain," Addison interrupted. "So, if you really think this spring could -"

"No!" Callie emphatically shook her head. "Listen to me! You know that movie ‘Pay It Forward’? Well, that’s what you do when you go in that spring. You pay your pain forward. Whatever’s ailing you. My uncle Xeno was sick. He was *dying* when he got in there. Two days later, one of his best and only friends, was crushed to death under a rock. It bent his spine like an accordion, the same way Xeno’s spine was always bent."

"Who paid for my pain?" Mark asked.

"Who do you think?" Callie replied, looking down at her foot again. "It wasn’t bothering me until *you* took the stitches out. And if *someone* had not ambushed me with water, it would have ended there and I could have broken the cycle."

Alex massaged his forehead. "Is this really a conversation that we’re having? We’re talking about a *pond* that can apparently think for itself. We’re having an actual talk ... with that in it."

"You can’t argue with the proof!" Addison said.

"Guys, we’re home!" Blake called. "I can smell lunch from here. I’m *so* hungry."

They walked up the steps and watched Blake tie the boat off to the rocky surface of the grotto. He turned and smiled at them, then hopped onto the stone. He was not wearing his water shoes and both of his feet went out from under him at the same time. Laughing, he slid into the water and waded back to the ledge, reaching for Cam’s hand. "That’s why I didn’t even *think* about climbing Devil’s Pitchfork. I feel clumsy today and - and - Cam, oh God."

"Blake?"


"OH MY GOD! IT’S GOT ME!" Blake screamed.

Alex and Mark rushed forward and grabbed any piece of Blake that Cam wasn’t clinging to. As they pulled him out of the water, Addison screamed.

The blue eel with the scar on its head had its jaws clamped around Blake’s ankle.

Callie splashed into the water and pried its mouth open, causing her own fingers to bleed as its teeth knicked at her skin. Finally, it let go and she tossed it behind her. Alex tugged her onto the ledge and she bent down, pressing around the bite on Blake's leg, feeling for broken bones. Blake cried out and she nodded. "Definite tib fib separation. He’ll need an X-ray. We’ll call Demi. He’ll take him in the helicopter."

Cam nodded, shot Addison a look that could kill, and with Mark’s help, carried his boyfriend through the cave passage. A passage that he despised as much as Callie.

Callie put her hand on Addison’s arm. "You didn’t know."

"I’m pouring out the water we were taking to Derek," Addison replied.

Alex watched the red head hurry after the others before he looked at his wife. "Callie-"

"Do you believe it now?"

He raked a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. "Can we just go home? You know, where water is water and curses are what Bailey does to us every time we fuck up?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Blake, Cam and Demi returned after dinner. Blake used crutches to walk and modeled his cast for everyone. Addison, who had barely said three words, looked ready to cry. Demi hugged her, rubbing her back. "Xenos never should have introduced you to the power of the spring. If he was going to show you, he should have fully explained what you were dealing with."

"It’s okay. I got an aerial tour of Greece," Blake told her. "Plus, I’ve never been hurt before. I get to milk this for all its worth."

"You already are," Cam said, kissing Blake on the side of the head. "Now sit down before you bust your ass again."

Demi watched as Addison sat next to Blake, then turned and looked at Callie. "How bad are your hands, Opie?"

"Not bad."

Demi motioned at her, indicating that he wanted to judge for himself. He tsked over the cuts on her fingers and she joked that perhaps her fingerprints had been permanently altered. No one laughed. With a sigh, she returned to Alex’s lap and looked at her mother, who was gazing at the fire. "Mom, you okay?"

"I thought that Xeno had gotten it out of his system, the infatuation with that place."

"He’s the only one of us who will set foot there," Demi told her. "I have it on good authority that he’s sneaking water to people who could benefit from it. Without their knowledge, of course."

"Willa says that Athena *cooks* with it. I should have smothered her when we were children." Melana crossed her arms over her chest, still regarding the fire. After a moment, she looked at Callie. "There’s an Izzie Stevens in every generation, mi vida. She lost interest in Xeno for a while and tried to tempt your father. I was quite pregnant with Stavros at the time and when she lifted her skirt under the pretense of tying her shoe and showed him her garter, I beat her with a piece of driftwood that made her wear *pants* around us from that day forward."

Everyone *did* laugh at that. Raphael reached over and took his wife’s hand. "I was so angry at you for that. For exerting yourself so much in your eighth month."

"Yes, I know," Mel said. "It forced you to *leave* me for five months."

"WHAT!?" Callie and Cam both cried.

"I was on *business*. I had no choice in the matter. I only came back for a weekend to visit with her and make sure she was okay." Raphael smiled at Alex. "As unforgiving as Callie can be ... I can assure you her mother is a million times worse. Stavros was a *toddler* before she would speak to me in whole sentences."

"Stop talking, Raphael, because I can feel myself building toward a tantrum because the memory of your abandonment doesn’t sit well with me." Melana smiled at Willa, who carried in two large pictures of lemonade and glasses for everyone. "Will, do you recall when Raphael visited for the weekend after Papa’s death?"

Willa crossed herself and glanced heavenward. "It’s been etched right into my brain, Mel. I’ll never forget the way he ran through the house when you took out after him with a rolling pin."

"It was an iron skillet. Perhaps your brain has been shaken like an Etch-A-Sketch." Melana accepted the lemonade Willa gave her. "Though, I’m sure you well remember his screams when I caught him."

"Yes, ma’am." Willa gave Raphael a good natured pat as she handed him a glass. "Sounded like an orca whale that was being beaten about the head. Such pipes. That’s where Calliope gets it."

Demi had to laugh. "I was in the orchard and *I* heard it. It was horrific."

"Why were you so pissed at him, Mom?" Cam asked.

"Well, how would you feel if your husband of a very short period of time left you pregnant, alone, and in turmoil?"

Cam looked at her. "Shocked. Because I don’t have pregnancy parts or a husband."

"Sure you do. The last part anyway," Blake told him, taking his hand. "So, what did he say that made you so mad?"

Demi leaned forward and his seat. "Yes, Raph, do tell what you said."

Raphael cleared his throat. "I said, ‘Hello, mi vida’. And she flew at me with a pan as big as she was. I thought for sure she had lost her mind."

"I didn’t know what you were calling me." Melana smiled, clearly recalling it. "And I didn’t know who you thought you were to speak to me at all. Much less in a language I didn’t understand. So, after I beat him into the sand ... he told me what it meant."

"My life," Raphael said. "Hello, my life. And even though I could barely move for two weeks ... I was very, very pleased with my life."

"You weren’t so pleased that you stayed," she retorted.

"I wanted to. You know that I tried."

Melana looked at Alex and Callie. "That’s the difference, see. He wanted to stay and *couldn’t*. People today *can* stay and take the easy way out when there’s the hint of trouble."

"I don’t think that’ll be a problem from now on," Alex said, resting his chin on Callie’s shoulder. "Raphael, you were gone for five months? So, you missed Stavros’ birth?"

"I did. It wasn’t as easy to get messages to people back then. And he came two weeks earlier than what we thought." Raphael sipped his drink. "But I came back when he was two weeks old, thinking it was time, and there he was. Mel was feeding him and I felt like she had hit me with the frying pan again. All the wind was knocked out. I had gone from having a wife ... to having a family. It was enough to scare me to death."

"You did faint." Melana shook her head and grinned at Addison. "Do you see that a lot when you deliver babies, honey?"

"All the time," Addison replied with a smile. "But it’s usually during and not after."

"I fainted from the fear that she would attack me again," Raphael chuckled. "Luckily she only threw water on me and stalked back to the bed."

"I heard him clatter to the floor and by the time I got there," Demi said, "she was standing over him with a vase and I swear to God I thought she had murdered him while she was still holding her baby."

"So, why did you forgive him, Mel?" Mark asked. "If he left you and you were that upset, then why-"

"My forgiveness seemed like a pretty small gift when I was holding the baby he had given me." She held her hands up. "Just wait until you have children. You learn that nothing matters as much as keeping your family together."

"You don’t have to have kids to know that." Getting to her feet, Callie stretched. "I’m exhausted."

"Yes, jumping from cliffs is very taxing, isn’t it?" Mel narrowed her eyes.

"WHO TOLD!?" Callie snapped.

Addison raised her hand. "Accident."

"It wasn’t an accident," Mark corrected. "She can’t keep a secret. Ever."

"She asked me what we did today." Addison looked apologetic. "But since we *all* did it ..."

"CALLIOPE was just injured." Melana got to her feet and hugged her daughter. "And I can’t imagine you’d enjoy rectal surgery to remove my foot. Which you’ll need if you don’t keep your damn feet firmly on the ground for the time being."

"Goodnight, Mom." Callie kissed her father, then ruffled Blake’s hair. "You feeling okay?"

"Morphine? Good." He gave her a lunatic smile. "Who knew?"

Alex said goodnight as well and followed Callie from the room. He took her hand in his and kissed it. He was so busy watching her that he didn’t realize that they weren’t heading to their room. He opened his mouth to ask where they were going, but she flipped on the lights in the largest bathroom he had ever seen in his life. The tub looked like a pool and it was filled, steam fogging all the mirrors. "Wow," he whispered.

"I need to wash the ocean off." She stepped away from him and pulled her shirt over her head.

He enjoyed the view, watching her strip down to nothing. When she turned to face him, he held his hand out and led her to the tub, helping her into it. Sitting on the edge, he helped her lean back. She looked up at him with wide eyes a second later. "You coming in?"

Alex shook his head. Once again, his body was betraying him and his desire for her was painfully evident in the front of his jeans. "Not tonight. I already took a shower. Remember?"

"It’s a huge tub."

He smiled when she went under and wet her hair. He lifted a bottle of shampoo and filled his hand with it. When she resurfaced, he massaged it into her scalp, laughing when she groaned. "Feel good?"

"So good."

He moved to her neck, massaging the bubbles in there as well. She dropped her head down and he lifted a plush wash cloth, soaping it with something that smelled like cherry blossoms. He ran it over her back, careful not to press too hard, then took her hand, soaping her arms. Taking a moment to study the marks on her fingers, he said, "Did I mention that you're brave?"

"I’m not brave. Eels just don’t bother me."

He brushed shampoo off her forehead before it could drop into her eye. "Not much does. You’re fearless, remember?"

"Vaguely. I - I used to be. I feel like he - he stole my spirit or something. When he attacked me."

He tilted her chin, giving her a soapy beard. "That man didn’t take anything from you, Callie. If anything, he shook us up just enough to make us remember why we’re here. I hate him, but he made me see how fast I could lose you so he didn’t take anything ... he put us back together."

Alex moved to her legs, soaping one, then the other. "I mean ... I wouldn’t be sending him a Christmas card or anything ... you know ... if he was still alive ... but I have to give him credit for pulling my head out of my ass. It was wedged in there pretty fair. That’s why I was such an asshole to you. I was in constant pain."

She smirked because he was rambling and he usually rambled when he was nervous. When he moved the cloth over her stomach, she saw how tight his jaw was and how he was not looking down at her. He was focusing on the tile behind the tub. "Alex?"

"What?"

"Make love to me."

He stopped moving at all and met her eyes. "It’s too soon. I - I don’t want to hurt you."

"You’ll hurt me more if you don’t." She pushed herself to her knees and took the wash cloth from his hand, letting it fall into the water beside her leg. He was definitely looking at her now. "I’m ready, Alex."

"Baby-"

She kissed him, pressing her wet chest against the front of his shirt. A moment later, she felt his hand tracing her hips, her back. "I’m ready," she repeated, then clapped a hand over her eye as shampoo dripped in it.

"Maybe you should rinse first," he laughed, watching her dig for the rag again. "Tell you what ... I’ll go start a fire in the bedroom and you think about this while you finish up. If you still want -"

"I do."

"Then I’ll be waiting." He kissed her again and left the room.

Callie finished her bath in record time. She took just enough time to dry her hair, brush her teeth, and rub lotion into her skin before she put on a robe and headed down the hallway. Melana was walking toward the double doors that led to the glass balcony and she jumped when she saw Callie. "What are you doing roaming the halls, Calliope? You looked like a ghost."

"Sorry. I took a bath in the big tub."

Melana nodded, pulling the sleeves of her own robe down self consciously. "Well, goodnight."

"What are *you* doing roaming the halls?" Callie asked, looking her mother up and down. "And red lace? Really?"

The doors to the balcony opened and Raph peered out, wearing only his boxer shorts and socks. His eyes widened when he saw Callie and he slammed the door, then reappeared a moment later wearing a fluffy white robe that matched Callie’s. "Is something wrong, Mija?"

"Well, there wasn’t!" she cried, scandalized. "What are you doing!? On the glass balcony!?"

"Oh, for heaven’s sake!" Melana snapped. "Do you think that you pioneered it with Eros? I can assure you that your naked ass isn’t the only one to leave an imprint. We should call it Peepshow Hill."

"Ew. Ew. Ew." Callie put a hand over her face. "I’m gonna walk away now."

"Wait," Melana said, catching her arm. She looked at her husband and raised a brow. "Go back out there, Raphael. I need a moment."

"Okay, okay." Raph winked at Callie and slipped back out onto the balcony.

As soon as the door closed, Callie sniggered. "Mom, he has on sock guards! Can you please tell him that’s not sexy?"

"Listen to me." Melana touched her cheek. "If you’re about to do what I think you’re about to do then let me remind you that Alex has hands just like your father’s. They’re firm, but soft. Strong, but gentle and you’re safe in them. You chose someone just like your father, actually. He has a temper, he can rage like a wild fire, but he will eat out of your palm if you let him."

Callie looked confused. "What do you think I’m going to do?"

"You really are *not* as good at acting as you’d like to believe." Melana pushed her daughter’s hair to the side, then straightened the collar of her robe. "It would appear that this place erases inhibitions. Your best friend is in the theater and she is *not* watching a movie."

"How do you know that?"

"We don’t stock porno. Sound effects, honey."

Callie smiled. "Must be something in the water."

"Must be." Melana wiggled her eyebrows and opened the door to the balcony. "See you in the morning. Now get!"

Freezing, Callie hurried to the yellow room and was relieved to see that Alex had kept his word. There was a fire roaring in the grate and she hurried to the hearth, facing it, enjoying the heat. She had not seen Alex, but she could feel his eyes on her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him in the corner, sitting in a wing back chair. Saying nothing, she untied her robe and let it fall to the floor. The chair creaked and he joined her, kissing her shoulder so softly that she barely felt it, but her pulse quickened all the same.

It had been over a month. The longest, most grueling month of her life. When his hands moved to her hips, she leaned back against him and closed her eyes. If she had expected a reminder of the attack, a flash of Randy’s face, it didn’t come. What she saw was Alex the day they got married when he was given the go ahead to kiss his bride. He had moved in slowly, looking at every inch of her face before he leaned down and captured her mouth with his and that ... that kiss happened again when he turned her toward him.

It was slow, deliberate and full of promise ... just the way it had been that day. "Alex," she sighed, euphoric at the feel of his breath against her neck. Reaching up, she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it over his shoulders. Hungry kisses landed all over his chest and when he bent down and scooped her into his arms, she didn’t have to be told to wrap her legs around him. He carried her to the bed and held onto her, easing her back against the cover so slowly that she felt suspended in mid air for hours.

He kissed the valley between her breasts, her neck, then palmed her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She cried out, arching her back and he stopped, moving his hand away. "No," she whispered. "Don’t stop. It didn’t hurt."

Smiling, he kept his hand at her side and lowered his mouth over the dusky peak. He traced it with his tongue, flicking, circling and when her hands tangled in his hair he gave the other the same attention, then moved to her ribcage. Lower and lower he traveled, pausing to let his tongue drop into her belly button. Her legs were still around him and he wiggled through them, letting them rest on his shoulders. Rubbing his palms over her thighs, he pushed them further apart and tasted the sweetness between her legs.

"Oh, god," she moaned, grinding against his face. She was insatiable, she thought. There was no way he could extinguish the fire he had started within her, but oh, she needed him to try.

His hand moved over her breasts again and she caught it, sucking two of his fingers into her mouth. It was his turn to moan and he looked up, watching her tongue trace his skin. When she let go, he slid those same fingers into her, pumping slowly, curling to touch the spot she liked the best. His tongue found her clit again and he rolled it as he said her name.

Her orgasm hit hard and her heels dug into his back, holding him flush against her. Her fingers hurt from digging into the cover and she didn’t care, she couldn’t think, it was only a blip in the radar. She rode the waves even after he pulled his fingers from her and got to his feet. Dimly, she was aware that she heard him undressing and she needed to open her eyes and watch him, but all she could think about was the *feel* of her body.

Alex kissed her thigh and was relieved when she didn’t jump. Naked, he joined her, lying on his side as he watched her fight to catch her breath. He would never get tired of seeing her like this, he thought. Never. When she reached for him, he went willingly, slipping between her thighs again. His own need was rapacious and tormenting, but he didn’t try to enter her until she reached between them and stroked him, pulling him toward her center.

As he sank into her, she gasped and her eyes locked on his. Fully seated, he kissed her, one hand in her hair. When he did move, it was slow, deep ... powerful. His own eyes filled with tears when her chin trembled and he shook his head. "Please, Callie, don’t cry. You know it kills me."

"I love you," she said, her hips coming up to meet him.

"I love you, too. So much."

She wiped the tear from his cheek the moment it fell. "Harder. Please?"

He nodded and pulled back, slamming against her. She cried out and this time he didn’t fear that it was from pain. Her passion was unmistakable, lustful and wanton. Her fingernails dug into his back, her legs wrapped around him even tighter, and she said his name over and over again, each utterance huskier than the last. She had come before, just from him being inside her, but when she did it this time, he had kiss her to muffle her cries. And his own.

Her walls clamped around him and he gripped her hip, increasing his pace. It was frenzied and even after his own release found him, he kept moving, kept sliding against her grasping flesh, unable to get enough. For hours, they touched, they felt, they made up. His touch erased the memory of his cruel words and her smile obliterated everything else.

They fell asleep just before dawn, limbs entangled, her face against his neck.

Sated.

Complete.

*~*~*~*~*

"Don’t you think we’re courting disaster by openly reading this when the author is just down the hall?" Addison asked, yawning and blinking in the morning light.

Mark took the diary from her and shook his head. "We’ve come this far. At least now the suspense isn’t just on the page. She could come in any minute. Ooooh."

"We’re supposed to read some of the letters first."

"Let’s do those last." Sitting up, he stretched and fluffed his pillow. "Dear Diary, I think that the baby inside me is fully grown. Almost overnight my stomach has bulged and grown so much that it gives me a backache. I can see by the date of my last entry that I haven’t written in over three months and I’m truly not intentionally neglecting you. I just have nothing of substance to say. Raphael is still gone and with him ... my will to think at all.

"Mother, when she speaks to me, tells me that I am at least seven months pregnant. This is usually followed up with a hurtful insult and an attempt to strike me in my face. Her aim is significantly altered by inebriation more often than not so I easily duck her. Her breath is foul and Papa’s office reeks of wine and cigarettes. It’s something he’d be ashamed of and I told her as much. She threw her glass at me and hasn’t emerged in over a week. Willa says that she is alive, though. But only just.

"Raphael’s letters are still arriving every week. I’ve stopped reading them, stopped opening them. His promises ring false and I fear I’ve become one of those girls that the nuns warned against. A loose, amoral girl who, while married, has no real husband to speak of. I fear that our child, may be just my child at this point, and will grow up and not know that man who stole my heart. I want this baby to have a father and I do not doubt that Raphael would be the kind of Papa a child could be proud of and never, ever fear. He’s so kind, so gentle and sure. And he has destroyed me.

"I don’t go to the orchard anymore and the oranges I used to enjoy only remind me of him. Demi says that the baby is a succubus that is sucking my beauty away, but I don’t care. I don’t need to be beautiful. I need to be loved and I can’t be loved until Raphael comes back. Demi and Xeno, they love me, but it’s a necessary love because we share secrets and lies. Raphael ... he loved me despite those secrets and lies. Or maybe because of them.

"The baby kicks all the time now. I think he can sense that I’m upset and he lashes out to remind me that despair is a self imposed prison and he’s already locked inside me. I can’t wait to have him here, to hold him, smell him, touch him. I pray that he looks like his father. I want nothing of the Karakas line to stain his features. I need my husband. I need him."

"I hate how miserable she is," Addison sighed, taking the book. "Dear Diary, a letter arrived from Raphael last Friday ... delivered by the sender. Yes, my appeared in the kitchen while I was ‘nesting’ as Willa calls it and he held it out to me like I should be pleased to have it, to see him. He called me what I’m sure was a vile name as well. He’s only lucky that the frying pan I reached for did not have hot oil in it and it was smaller than all the others. I lifted it over my head and flew at him. His eyes looked like dinner plates when he dropped the letter and ran. He actually ran from me and I don’t think I would have thrashed him quite so badly if he hadn’t done that. And if he hadn’t tripped.

"My girth alone makes me clumsy, but he rolled down the steps and covered his head and I hit him several times. He kept screeching my name, wailing from the pain, and Willa eventually wrestled the pan from my hands and stuffed it behind her back. He rolled onto his back and grabbed my wrists when I tried to hit him and I saw that he was crying. I fear I made him feel the same way Papa made me feel so many times. I struck the man who once took a beating *for* me. So, naturally I had to kiss him until we were both so weak and breathless that it was hard to stand when Demi pulled us to our feet.

"Raphael accepted my apologies and I accepted his. Until Saturday, when Athena Niarchos showed him her garter and he actually LOOKED. Oh, my blood threatened to boil out of my body and apparently pregnancy makes me a gladiator because I found a piece of driftwood and beat her about the head until she looked as splintered as a porcupine. She left running and I was tempted to take off after her, but Raphael decided to lecture me on the importance of taking care of myself for the baby’s sake.

"You can bet that I clawed his face. How dare he lecture me, I demanded. Who does he think has been taking care of me? He certainly hasn’t. Who does he think drinks horrible warm milk because the doctor said I must and who eats those tragic oats because of the vitamins? That would be me. He’s done nothing except stay away and look at garters. I tried to go for the driftwood again, but he threw it into the water and shouted at me to stop being crazy.

"I had to walk away because the urge to murder him was so great. When he found me in the orchard, he told me that he only had one more day with me and he would rather we make it count. He said I’d have a lifetime to punish him for his career and for his loyalty to his country, but he begged me to bear with him. He swore to me that he would take me with him soon. I believed him. He dropped onto his knees and he felt our baby kick for the first time.

"I was right. He’s going to be a wonderful father. He talked to the baby as if it was already in his arms. We made love underneath the canopy of lemon trees in a way that we’ve never done before. We had to use our imagination to compensate for my belly, which he seems to enjoy kissing.

"Seeing him leave on Sunday night was harder than I thought it would be, but easier, too. Because now I know he’ll be back. One day. He swears he’ll be here in time for the baby’s birth, but there is a trial he must testify at in the coming weeks so I do not have much hope. I fear that I’ve fallen in love with a man like my own father, but only in that his career comes first. I smiled and waved at my husband as the helicopter took him away. I kept waving until it disappeared into the clouds and then I collapsed on the ground.

"Demi and Xeno pulled me to my feet and helped me to bed. I can still smell Raphael on my pillow. I hope it will linger long enough to lull me to sleep." Addison closed the diary and wiped her eyes. "It’s way too early in the morning for emotional roller coasters."

Mark’s phone rang and he sat up, grabbing it. "Saved by the bell. Hello?"

"Hey," Derek said. "How’s Greece?"

"It’s about time you return my seven messages," Mark snapped.

"It was eight, Stalker, but who’s counting?" Derek chuckled. "I take it Callie and her family made it there safely?"

"They’re here. How are you?"

"I’m fine. Sore. Still not back at work. I’m doing a little bit of physical therapy."

"Put it on speaker!" Addison hissed.

Mark complied and laid the phone between them. "Addison’s here."

"Hey, hero! Callie says you saved her life," she said.

Derek exhaled on the other end. "Did I? She wasn’t in a good place before she left here. I kept expecting a call to say she had tried to kill herself or something."

"She’s much better," Addy assured him. "Are you?"

"I will be. Burke’s back at Seattle Grace and he’s been helping me with some therapy. There’s no nerve damage or anything, but it’s a little weak."

Addison and Mark looked at each other. Mark scratched the side of his head. "It’ll be fine, man. It will."

"I know. Hey, you better not bring me home a shirt that says ‘my ex-wife married my best friend and went to Greece and this was all I got’, by the way. We’re tacky enough without it."

Addison laughed. "Damn it, did Callie tell you about that?"

Derek joined her, chuckling. "I’m a great guesser. Richard said that you guys had extended your trip indefinitely."

"We’re trying to help Callie right now. She needs us."

"I thought you said she was fine, Addison."

"She’s *better*. Better is not fine," Mark put in.

A pager sounded on Derek’s end. "That’s Meredith’s beeper. She’s in the shower. I better go."

"Call us again!" Addison demanded. "Since you can’t be bothered to answer the phone."

"Go! Be honeymooners!"

"Bye."

Mark looked at Addison and shook his head when he closed the phone. "He’s definitely *not* okay."

"No," she agreed. "He’s not. But Burke’s there, right? That’s good."

"Yeah." Mark laid the phone at his side. "We’ll call Cristina later. She’ll tell us everything that Derek didn’t."

"Knock knock!" Melana called, wiggling the door knob.

"Shit!" Mark stuffed the diary under his pillow while Addison shoved the letters under hers. "Come in."

Carrying a tray, Melana said, "Apparently I’m room service. You missed breakfast just like Callie and Alex did. Why don’t you kids eat fast because I’ve decided that the ladies in this house should go to Crete and do some shopping today and the *men* can do whatever they like."

"Shopping?" Addison’s grin was huge. "Count me in."

"You get that from me, honey," Melana kissed her on the cheek. "Now I need to go convince the *other* girl that she needs to come along."

"Good luck with that," Addy called, biting into a slice of toast. "She’s *not* a shopper."

"Or a morning person," replied Mark. Both women glared at him and he hastily added, "According to Alex."

"Maybe we should have Mark come along as the designated bag carrier." Melana crossed her arms over her ample chest.

"No way. He’d whine the whole time and I’d go to jail for murder."

"You get that from me, too." Melana winked at her. "We’ll leave in an hour. Assuming Calliope can be roused in that amount of time."

Mark watched the woman leave and shook his head. "You really are starting to act like her."

"Scared?"

He nodded.

"Good."

*~*~*~*~*
Ch 10
Special thanks to tv_junkie118 <http://tv-junkie118.livejournal.com/>, for kicking my ass tonight.
Callie wore makeup on the shopping trip. After she finally crawled out of bed, she decided that the luggage under her eyes needed to be covered and she felt like herself again when she saw the results. The worst of the bruising had been covered completely and while one eye was still a little red inside, it didn’t look bad. Alex had kissed her for twenty minutes, prompting Melana to physically pull them apart and there was no doubt in Callie’s mind that both Addison and her mother knew the reason her smile was firmly in place. As she flew them to Crete in Demi’s helicopter, Callie caught them both looking at her several times.

Shopping in Hersonissos was enough to give anyone attention deficit disorder. There were kiosks, stores, flea markets, and even peddlers who approached the three women with their jackets open to show them the jewelry inside. That was where Callie found a silver chain with an anchor pendant. What really sold it was the mermaid clinging to the anchor. The mermaid had the entire ocean to vanish in, but still held onto something. And that, she decided, was how she felt with Alex. She wanted to hold on, to be grounded, to have roots. She wanted the safety he provided her with. So, she tucked it into her pocket to give him that night after she paid far too much for it.

By the time noon rolled around, the three women were laden with packages, giggly, and out of sorts. They flopped down at an outdoor cafe and talked about everything. And nothing. Callie enjoyed a fresh Greek salad and rolled her eyes when her mother launched into a discussion about the latest fashions in Paris and what Vera Wang was doing in the new year with leather. Addison seemed as well versed as Melana in all things couture so Callie tuned them both out and concentrated on eating. She let her mind wander over the past few weeks. She never dreamed that agreeing to do the air show would throw her entire life into a tailspin, but it definitely had.

If she had it to do over again ... she would have changed *everything*.

Not wanting to take a swim in the pity pool, she dug into a basket of rolls and dipped it into Mediterranean butter as she listened to Addison talk about Fendi’s new line. It was the most boring thing she’d ever heard in her life, but the rapturous look on Melana’s face kept her silent. She had never been able to talk about such things with her mother. Callie’s idea of high fashion was getting into and out of the mall without losing her temper and finding at least two pairs of jeans that fit, made her ass look good, and were long enough to cover her ankles. In her opinion, runway clothes were as ugly as the stick thin women who modeled them.

She glanced to the left as their waiter approached. He was carrying a fancy little drink with an umbrella and cherry and set it down in front of Callie. "A gift, madam, from the man at the bar. Do you have a message for him?"

Callie leaned back slightly and grimaced when she saw who had sent it. There it was, raw temptation. She lifted the glass and handed it back to the waiter. "Tell him no thank you. I’m flying."

"Are you certain? He says it’s your favorite."

"I’m positive."

"Very well, ma’am."

Callie quickly turned back to her salad. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her mother craning to see who had sent the drink. Callie was tempted to pretend to that she was choking to draw the attention back to her. It took her a moment to realize how badly her hands were shaking. She could still smell the gin that had been in the glass and it made her mouth water. Suddenly thirsty and miserable, she put her fork down and lifted her glass of water, drinking deep. She did get choked and it did cause her mother to stop trying to give herself a neck sprain.

Melana studied Callie closely. Reaching out, she touched her damp brow. "Your grandmother used to get the same look on her face."

"She did?"

"After Papa died, she drank herself into a stupor every night. She’d start to sweat and shake if we kept the alcohol from her. And her eyes were just as haunted as yours are now," replied Mel. "She was drunker than I’ve ever seen the night she killed herself."

"You never told me that!" Callie gasped. "She was an alcoholic?"

"I’m sure she was, mi vida. We didn’t know much about it back then, only that it consumed her. To death. We were quite sheltered at Bounty’s Keep, but knowing what I know now, I have no doubt."

Her heart sinking, Callie looked down at her plate. "It must have destroyed you to know that I tried to kill myself ... with alcohol."

"There are no words to describe it. Losing a parent, even as violently as we lost Nana, is still the natural order of things. No one should lose a child. No one."

"I’m sorry," Callie said softly.

"Apologize to me by staying strong." Melana brushed Callie’s forehead with a napkin. "This too shall pass."

"Calliope, darling, I thought that was you!"

"Fuck," Callie muttered, sitting up straight. A six foot tall, broad shouldered and dimpled piece of her past was approaching and she didn’t know whether to run or hit him. "Hi, Nicky."

The man leaned down and kissed her cheek, smoothing his hands over the curls in his hair. "You look *ravishing*. What brings you to Crete?"

"Shopping." Callie shrugged away from his touch and gestured at Addison. "This is my best friend Addison. Addy, this is Aniketos Niarchos."

Nicky smiled at Addison, shaking her hand, and turned to Melana to do the same. Mel simply arched her brow. With a chuckle, Nicky said, "Still clinging to old grudges I see. Calliope and I put our differences aside several years ago. How long has it been, Cal?"

"Ten years."

"Has it really been that long?" He touched her hair again. "I remember it like it was yesterday."

"Remember what? Precisely?" Melana asked, her hands fisted on the table.

"Calliope and I had drinks at this very spot when she was twenty one. We celebrated until she could barely stand up and then I had to fly Demitri’s helicopter back to our estate because she couldn’t. And she didn’t want anyone to see her in the state she was in." Nicky smiled at the fond memory. "It was -"

"You *flew*? You can’t even *fly* fish," Melana snapped.

He threw his head back and laughed. "It was a mishap, Melana. A simple mishap that got the lure stuck in Cambyses’s face. You’d think I intentionally did it."

"I wouldn’t need to think. I’d know." Melana looked back at Callie, who was shredding her napkin.

Still laughing, Nicky laid his hand on Callie’s shoulder. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, darling? I haven’t forgotten the -"

Melana interrupted. "I can assure you she has a full schedule. She’s on holiday with her *husband* and he’s very fond so he won’t be agreeable to sharing her overmuch. Perhaps you should find another pastime. One that won’t get you killed."

"Husband?" Nicky’s smile faded instantly. "I see."

"Good day then, Aniketos." Giving him a pointed dismissal, Melana waved her hand. "Do give your parents our best."

Looking like he wanted to hit something, Nicky nodded and stalked away without a backward glance. Addison looked at Callie with a stunned expression on her face. "He’s slimy! Please tell me that wasn’t One Night Nicky who had the panty fetish!"

Melana’s eyes had now become slits and when Callie didn’t reply, she leaned toward her. "That was an invitation for you to say yes or no. Did you sleep with the enemy?"

"Oh, look at that bird!" Callie replied, her voice a full octave higher than usual. She pointed at a mess of unpreened feathers that hopped toward them on one leg. Ripping into her roll again, Callie tossed a bit onto the ground and watched the animal gobble it down. "What kind is it, Mom?"

"I’m thinking a loon. Or perhaps a cuckoo," Melana snapped. "You just wait until I tell your father. He’s never hit you before, but I think you’ll find your way across his knee tonight!"

Callie dropped the roll into her lap, emphatically shaking her head. The bird charged, flapping wilding to rise high enough to get over her knees. She was so stunned she couldn’t do anything except push it away, which she did by ramming the bread into its beak. It fell back to the ground with an audible thump, leaving a plume of dander and feathers floating around the table. Undaunted, Callie continued to shake her head, which was now covered in feathers. "You can’t tell him! He’ll kill me!"

"No you, but most assuredly ‘One Night Nicky’ will find his way into a shallow grave." Mel yanked several feathers from her daughter’s hair none too gently. "I can understand Eros, but when you sleep with dogs, you wake up with fleas. And when you sleep with bears, you’re lucky to wake up at all. This bird attacking you is karma for selling your soul to the devil!"

"Does anyone want to clue me in?" Addison asked. "Because ... hello? Sitting right here."

Melana patted the red head on the hand. "My father used to operate a ... business ... with questionable morals. That business was ... powerful. It was so powerful that he eventually feared it and turned his back on it. The Niarchos family ... since the dawn of time ... has happily hated the Karakas family. They stepped in and gladly filled the void that he left. They set out to ruin us, Addison, and very nearly succeeded. And my *daughter* -"

"What kind of business?" Addison asked.

"Sort of like the Greek mafia." Callie rubbed a hand over her face.

"YOU SLEPT WITH THE SOPRANOS!?" Addison cried, then lowered her voice. "People get killed for that!"

"I slept with him one time!"

"You can only die once, too!" Melana angrily said. "A Niarchos will stick a dagger in your heart just as easily as they slip their ... other tools ... between your legs!"

"Wait, wait!" Addison said. "Niarchos. Isn’t Xeno’s wife a Niarchos? Athena Niarchos?"

Melana made a face. "Athena, much as I am loathe to admit it, turned her back on her family and gave us her loyalty when she discovered how vile they were. Xeno married her for protection and not for love."

"But he’s crazy about her now," Addison replied. "I’ve seen it."

"He’s simply crazy. In general." Melana shook her head. "Which appears to run in the family. Calliope, I’m disgusted."

"Mom, it was *once*."

"I don’t want to hear it."

Callie tossed another roll onto the ground and got to her feet. "I’m going to the bathroom. And when I get back, you’re going to have a new topic because this one is off limits!"

Melana watched her go and glanced at Addison. "I’m sorry, honey. There are so many things I want to tell you, but I can’t. As beautiful as this place is ... as Bounty’s Keep is ... there are graveyards in the closets and blood on all our feet."

"You can tell me anything. I’d keep secrets for *you*. It’s other people’s that I have trouble with." She took the older woman’s hand. "Callie was just lonely, Mel. That’s all. It’s not like she’s promiscuous. I mean, twelve partners is really average. I’ve had eleven."

"TWELVE!? AY DIOS MIO!" Hastily digging into her purse, Melana crossed herself and dug out her rosary. "I’ll be right back!"

"Oh, shit," Addy mumbled as Melana headed off to find Callie. Lifting her hand, she asked the waiter for their bill.

Melana didn’t find Callie in the bathroom so she stalked all the way through the kitchen and out the back door. When there was still no sign of her daughter, she checked the bathroom again and swore under her breath. She dreaded the phone call she would have to make to Raphael. Callie had apparently run again. Addison met her in the hallway, her cheeks flushed, and Melana opened her mouth to break the news, but she spotted Callie and put a hand to her heart. Her daughter was bellied up to the bar and was lifting a glass to her lips.

Moving at warp speed, Melana snatched it from Callie before she had time to tip it all the way. She tasted it herself. It was water. With a nod, she gave it back to her. "Go ahead."


Callie was clearly infuriated. "MOM! What the hell!? What do you think I’m gonna do!?"

"I think that you’re -"

"Why do I ever bother!?" Callie growled. "I’m working my ass off to stay sober and all of you just assume that I’m not taking it seriously. You think I’m just gonna do it again! Well, maybe I should! No one has any faith in me anyway!"

"And this is why!" Mel fumed. "Your assurance that you can slip back into that lifestyle is the reason we can’t trust you! You used to say nothing unless you meant it so you’ll have to forgive us if we take you at your word! Don’t make idle threats and don’t expect me to be moved by your annoyance. It’s a small price for you to pay when it comes to OUR peace of mind."

"Speaking of paying ... I paid the ticket," Addison intoned. "Yay! Let’s go see the pottery, guys."

Callie bit her bottom lip, her eyes filling with tears. "Mom, please don’t tell Dad about Nicky."

"I most certainly will," Mel snapped. "Unlike you ... I tell my husband everything and that is why we’ve been married only once and that is to one another. Twelve partners, Calliope? Twelve? How can you walk? How can you close your legs at all? You’ve been thoroughly plowed."

"ADDISON!" Callie shouted.

Addison choked. "Look, there’s that bird again!"

*~*~*~*~

After hiking a short distance through the woods behind Bounty’s Keep, the men stumbled onto the grassy ridge that Raphael had been telling them about. Just as the man had promised, the view was incredible and the grass was plush, soft, and deep beneath their boots. Alex and Mark carefully picked their way to the cliff’s edge and peered down at the ocean floor. It took both of their stomachs and they turned in time to see Barnacle lumbering from a small shack with a small arsenal. "What the hell?" Mark asked.

"Looks like he remembered that you slept with his daughter." Alex punched Mark on the shoulder. "Nice knowing you."


"I remember everything. Alex, what have you been doing with my daughter?" Raph asked, loading a magazine into one of the rifles.

"MARRIED!" Alex crowed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Don’t shoot!"

Raph chuckled. "Have either of you ever shot clay pigeons?"

"Not with assault rifles. Or, you know, at all." Mark scratched the side of his head. "That’s what those are, right?"

"Only to the uneducated masses." Holding out the loaded gun toward Alex, he added, "How about you?"

"I’ve seen it done. In movies. Never really messed with a gun before, though." Alex gingerly took it, holding it like it was contaminated, his finger nowhere near the trigger. "What do you want me to do?"

"Point. Pull. Enjoy." Raphael motioned at Barnacle, who fired the first pigeon into the air.

Alex was so caught up in trying to aim properly that it sailed over the cliff edge while she was still looking for it. "Damn it," he said.

"If you imaging where it’s going before hand, you won’t have to line it up. Precision is mostly an educated guess," Raphael coached, pointing at the sky. "It’ll go slightly left. When you hear it pop, aim up and away."

With a nod, Alex brought the gun to his shoulder and waited. Barnacle pulled and the sound was startling enough that Alex pressed the trigger, sending a bullet straight forward and nowhere near the intended target. Behind him, Mark laughed. "Nice shot, dead eye."

"Let’s see you do it!" Alex held out the rifle.

Mark held his palms out and stared at the gun like it was made of Ebola. "Do I yell pull when I’m ready so I don’t get the shit scared out of me like Zorro here."

"Zorro used a sword, asshat." Alex moved behind him, out of the line of fire.

"If it makes you feel good to yell ... then yell," Raph replied.

"Surprise me," Mark said to Barnacle, who pretended to hit the catapult several times.

When the clay pigeon finally soared, Mark missed it by a mile, shooting a tree limb in the distance instead. It popped, then crashed to the ground with a resounding thud. "Yes! Bad tree! You’re dead!"

"I feel much better," Alex snorted.

"At least I hit *something*!" Mark handed the gun back to Raphael. "Wanna show us what we’re doing wrong?"

With the butt against his hip, Raph rested his finger longways, not on the trigger. "First, don’t let it make you nervous. You control it, not the other way around. Second -"

Barnacle accidentally released another pigeon.

Without looking away from the two men, Raphael lifted the gun and fired, shattering it, sending clay dropping back to the earth. "Second, always know where your target is. Especially if it’s behind you. If your back is turned, you should *listen*. And this should prove that you don’t need to be in my crosshairs to pay for *anything* you do to our girls."

Mark and Alex looked at one another, eyebrows raised. "Scared now." Mark shuddered. "Raph, where did you-"

"Discretion is the better part of valor," Raph replied, holding the gun out to Alex again. "Try again."

They spent two hours shooting and missing almost everything they aimed at. To his credit, Raphael never showed off, but he didn’t miss *anything*. When he brought out the handguns, Alex nailed six of his ten pigeons.

Mark, they decided, was hopeless.

When they had exhausted the supply of targets, they headed back the way they had come. Raphael casually led the way. "For protection, I have a gun on me at all times."

Alex glanced at his father in law, his eyes going to the pockets of his trousers, then his waist. Raph saw him looking and shook his head, lifting his pants leg. His sock guard was a gun holster and it held the shiniest, smallest gun Alex had ever seen. The handle was opal, Callie’s birthstone.

"It was a gift from Calliope a few years ago. She had it specially made for me ... so that I could hide it easily." Raph smiled and plucked a piece of grass from the barrel. "I would encourage the two of you to invest in a weapon as well, but since I’ve seen your ability I feel that I’d be better off making sure that Addison and Callie had their own pieces."

"Addison?" Mark scoffed. "She can only shoot her mouth off."

"We’ll see. Tomorrow." Raph lowered the material back over his gun and smoothed out the wrinkles. "We’re having a picnic tomorrow with the staff. In the orchard. We’ll play football, shoot guns, and torment one another relentlessly. Willa wanted to celebrate the twin’s birthday again since it was so recent. Do either of you fish?"

"Absolutely," Mark nodded. "I go to the wharf, fish my wallet out of my pocket, and buy whatever fish catches my fancy."

"Alex?" Raph laughed.

"A little. According to O’Malley not that well, though."

"Then you take the lead, son, and prove that O’Malley is as stupid as he is ugly." Raphael started walking again. "I fear that my hatred of the water sucked out my will to master the art of fishing, but Melana seems to think it’s something we should do together and I’d hate to tell her it didn’t happen."

"She wants us to fish?" Alex chuckled. "That’s kinda cute."

"She wants us to CATCH fish for the cookout tomorrow." Raph shuddered.

"You really hate the water?" Mark asked. "Why?"

"We all fear something."

"All water or just the water around here?" Mark pressed.

"It’s all the same if you ask me."

One hour later, they were cramped into a small boat like sardines, floating aimlessly between Bounty’s Keep and Talking Rock. Mark had caught the only fish and it was so small that Raphael declared it bait and switched rods with him, saying he’d catch Melana the largest fish in the see with it. The air was cool and the sun was warm and they were all close to dozing as the boat rocked back and forth.

Alex shaded his eyes and gazed at the praying hands on Talking Rock. "What is that place anyway? Callie only calls it evil."

"Does she now?" Raph asked, following Alex’s gaze. "I’d say that’s pretty fair."

"It used to be church," Mark told Alex. "For hundreds of years different clergymen lived there to keep watch on the Karakas family home and pray for them of whatever. Nobility used to travel from all over ... noble places ... to see the island and drink from the spring."


Raphael slowly reeled his line, watching Mark closely. "Who told you that?"

"Xenos."

With a chuckle, Raph rolled his eyes. "Xeno is a historical revisionist. He should have gotten a job reinventing the past for the government."

"Which government?" Mark asked.

"Any of them, son, they all deal in altering facts and falsifying documents." Raphael cast his line again. "It did have a church there, but I highly doubt that *anyone* who resided on the island needed to be genuine in their beliefs. They were not clergymen. They were spies."

"Spies?" Mark echoed.

"They watched Bounty’s Keep, not for biblical reasons, not for safety or salvation, but to report back any activity to certain ... organizations that were interested."

"Like the KGB?" Mark suggested, pretending he had no idea about Raph’s CIA work.

"Worse. Russia’s KGB is minor compared to some."

"Like what?" Mark prodded.

Alex saw Raph’s jaw tighten and said, "Why do you fear the ocean? What happened?"

"I guess you men are family now. You have a right to know," Raph replied, looking back and forth between them. "I fear the ocean because it took my child. Not too far from here, actually."

"Oh ... god ... I’m sorry," Alex said. "You don’t have to talk about -"

"Stavros was four." Raph looked back at Talking Rock. "Melana had taken her sweet time in forgiving me for my business travels and it took a while for her want me near her. I finally earned her trust again, her forgiveness and we began to rebuild what we had lost because of my absence. Her mother was horrible to us, however, and more often than not, we’d sail to Talking Rock for the day so Stavros could play in the surf and not have to hear the drunken ramblings of a mad woman.

"On that day, Mel had packed a special lunch and when I opened the basket, I saw a pair of booties inside. She had knitted them to say ‘Hi’ on one and ‘Papa’ on the other. She told me she was pregnant again and I was so excited. Stavros couldn’t stop touching her belly, talking to it. He couldn’t wait to have a baby and he was so sweet, so gentle. He ... he still is, he’s always been our glue." Raph grinned, the pride over his son evident in his voice. "He fell asleep on the blanket after we ate and it didn’t take long for Mel and I to follow suit. When we woke up, he was gone and she spotted him first. He was floating in the water.

"He wasn’t breathing. I scooped him up and ran straight into the spring with him. When we came back up, he was choking and *laughing* and I was so happy because our son was okay." Raph paused for several seconds, still glaring out at the island. "Mel rushed forward to scoop him out of my arms. She was smiling, crying, and she was so beautiful. And then her smile faded and she dropped to her knees and that’s when I saw the blood on her thighs.

"She lost our baby right there in the sand. She wouldn’t go into the spring for herself because we KNEW at that time that there was always a price to pay. So we paid the ultimate price. One child for another. She couldn’t do it to anyone else. She’s only been back to Talking Rock *once* and that was for Ca- another reason." He took a deep breath. "I think sometimes she wanted to leave this place all along, but she couldn’t. She wanted to be close to where the baby died for a long time, close to her family. No matter how far away we go, this place always calls her back. She doesn’t know how to say no or get it out of her system. I think it haunts her as much as it does me."

"God, Raph, that’s ... I’m sorry doesn’t sound like enough," Mark said.

"It’s okay. I’ve made enough peace with it that I can breathe."

"That’s why Callie hates it here," Alex said.

"Calliope has her own very valid reasons and that’s not my story to tell."

Something big hit the boat, almost tipping it. Whatever it was latched onto the end of Raph’s line, which he had been reeling again and it almost pulled him over the side. With a gasp, he gripped the rod tighter, bracing his feet under the rim. "What the hell!?!"

Alex and Mark both grabbed for him when the shark fin emerged three feet from the edge of the boat. "Let it go!" Mark cried, grabbing for the pole. "Drop it!"

The shark jerked and Alex toppled backwards, crashing into the water. He made a mad dash for the boat and Mark jerked him up so fast that it gave him the wedgie to end all wedgies. Raph cut the line and sat, shaking, watching the shark go under the boat. "Are you okay, Alex?" he asked.

"That is the *second* time I’ve gone into shark infested waters for a Torres!" Alex said, trembling.

Raph handed him a towel. "It came while we were talking about Callie."

"And?"

"Keep her out of the water."

"Not really gonna be a problem. I’m ready to strap both of us in a plane and get the hell out of here," Alex wiped his face. "This place? Creepy as hell."

Mark slumped back into this seat, breathing hard. "I officially need clean pants."

"Let’s go fish the way Mark does," Raphael said, starting the engine. "There’s an assortment at the market."


Alex kept his eyes on Talking Rock as they sailed back toward the grotto. He wanted to burn the place to the ground and when he caught Mark’s eyes, he knew that his friend felt the same way.

*~*~*~

"Are you okay?" Addison asked.

Callie shook her head. "Should I be?"

Melana had marched ahead of them, not looking back as they made their way across the lawn from the helipad. Addison put her arm around Callie as they followed behind her at a much slower pace. "She didn’t mean anything by tasting your drink. I almost did it."

"That’s such a comfort."

"What do you expect, Cal? You’re still thinking about doing it and we all know that. Until you’re not thinking about ... you can’t expect us to ignore that it’s there, either."

"So I’m doomed to a life of you all checking up on me?"

"No, because there *will* come a day that you don’t want to do it anymore and we’re all gonna know that, Callie, and it’s gonna be like old times." Addy hugged her. "Until then ... we’re shoulder checking you."

"I can NOT believe you told her I slept with twelve men!"

"I don’t have a mom! I don’t know what’s off limits!"

"You don’t have to turn her against me! If you want to shock her to death then tell her about *your* past. She’d love to hear about your abortion or -"

"Hey!" Addison stopped walking. "You can be pissed at me if you need to, but that’s below the belt and I’m only filled with so much patience."

Callie took her hand. "I’m sorry. I’m just ... god, my life has started to suck again."

"Well yeah," Addison said, grinning. "You’re about to get a spanking from daddy and sent to bed without dinner."

"My dad would never hit me and they’d probably make me eat *their* dinner before they sent me to bed hungry." Callie sighed. "It’s the way he’ll look at me that’s gonna hurt."

"Oh, stop!" Addison looped their arms, walking again. "You’re an adult. He knows you’re not a virgin."

"Ladies," Mel called from the front steps. "Can you stop moving in two speeds? Slow and stop?"

"Coming," Addy replied, dragging Callie along faster. "You’re getting a whoopin’! You’re getting a whoopin’!"

"Shut up, ding bat!"

They sailed through the door and followed Melana to the blue room, where Cam and Alex were playing Jenga for everyone’s amusement. Alex looked up and saw his wife, toppling the wooden tower when she smiled at him. He got to his feet and hugged her. "Did you have a good time?"

"Not really." Callie gazed at her father over Alex’s shoulder. "Daddy, we ran into Nicky."

"Wonderful! What is that little pit viper doing?"

"You’re daughter, apparently." Melana scowled at Callie. "He begged her to have dinner with him tonight. It would appear that she’s been right into the snake’s den. She knows him very, very well."

Alex stiffened in Callie’s arms and took a step back. For the time being, she was more concerned with the look on *his* face than her father’s. "It was *one* time. Years ago."

"CALLIOPE TORRES!" Cam screamed. "Nicky Niarchos!? Satan’s biggest challenge to the throne!? He nearly killed me twice! He pushed Loukas off the cliffs! And he tried to shave your head! That Nicky Niarchos!? You slept with *him*!?"

"Cambyses, could you please shut up!?" Callie cried.

"We’re gonna go, uhm -" Addison faltered.

"Watch a movie," Blake finished for her. "Mark, would you mind leading the way?"

"I’m going, too," Cam sneered. "This is even worse than George, Callie, and that was just pathetic."

Raphael cleared his throat when Cambyses slammed out of the room. Callie felt like she weighed eight thousand pounds when she turned to look at him. "Daddy, I can-"

"When did this happen? Was it for the ... code?" he cut her off.

Callie’s eyes widened and she looked at her mother. "Yes, but-"

"I see," he replied. "And are you confident that you made the right decision?"

"I got the code, didn’t I?"

"Then perhaps we’ll simply say that the ends justified the means, honey." Raph gave her a sad smile. "It’s okay."

"IT IS NOT OKAY, RAPH! He touched our child! He put his hands on her while she was ... naked ... and if you don’t kill him, I will and -" Melana trailed off and then recoiled as if struck. She looked at her husband, then their daughter. "Code? CODE!? WHAT CODE!? YOU USED HER!?"

"Melana, it was her decision ultimately and she -"

"How old was she!?"

"I was twenty at that time, Mom. For that mission, I was twenty."

"A BABY! *OUR* BABY, RAPH!" Mel shouted, drawing back her purse. She hit her husband twice in the head with it, then spun on Callie, who took a step back. "How did you get involved! ANSWER ME!"

"She was born into it!" Raph leapt to his feet and grabbed her bag before she could strike Callie with it. "I made sure she was safe, mi vida! She had fifty agents within striking range every time!"

"MORE THAN ONCE!?" Mel was so infuriated that she rammed her hands into her hair, grasping at handfuls of it. She paced the length of the room, then stalked back. "All those times she disappeared and you *had* to go find her ... she was not running at all, was she? WAS SHE!?"

"I volunteered, Mom," Callie said.

"YOU DIDN’T KNOW ANY BETTER!" she yelled. "That - Raphael, you put our daughter, our ONLY daughter, in harm’s way! Intentionally!" Stalking forward, she slapped him across the face. "You good for nothing, lying son of a bitch! You told me that you were finished when she was *ten* years old! *TEN*!"

"Baby, listen to me," Raph reached for her, only to be slapped again.

"Don’t talk to me!" Mel screeched. "And don’t call me baby unless you want me to rip your tongue out! You sleep in the black room, Raphael! And tomorrow, you gather your things and you get the hell away from me and *my* children before you get one of them killed! Go home to Miami and when you get *there* you get your shit and leave for good!"

"Mom, don’t!" Callie cried.

"No, Calliope!" Mel looked like a shadow of herself when she turned and glared at her daughter. Tears had forced her makeup to run, streaking her cheeks. "He put you in danger! He did it without my consent and after he swore to me that he’d die to protect our family. I only *thought* he was a better father than mine. He’s worse!"

Raph watched his wife leave the room in the same manner that Cambyses had. She slammed the door hard enough to rattle the walls. Wordlessly, he hugged Callie, who was crying. "It’s okay, Mija."

"No, it’s not!"

The door burst open, crashing back against a table and sending the contents flying. Melana stood framed in it, nostrils flared, hair wild. "Did you force her to sleep with the other eleven men or was that her own doing?"

"MOM!"

Mel smirked and left the room.

Alex had sat down on the sofa after seeing Melana’s outburst. Watching her lash out at Raph had been a little too close to home for him. He saw his own parents in their place. Mel’s words penetrated his painful walk down memory lane however. "Eleven? Plus me?"

"You knew that," Callie said, sniffling.

"You said *nine*."

"It was nine! You knew about the other three! You, Mark, and George." She rubbed her eyes desperately. "Uh - I got attacked by a bird today."

"We got attacked by a shark." Alex got to his feet. "And because I’m slow on the uptake ... did this entire conversation just now mean that you worked for the CIA, Callie? Because that’s what it sounded like and surely you would have told me that before we got married."

"No!" She gestured wildly with her hands. "I was NOT doing anything with the CIA. I would have told you that up front, Alex. I was just working with my dad."

"Who reported to the CIA, so you were there by default," Alex pointed out.

"Wrong!" Callie emphatically shook her head. "Dad was an independent contractor at the time."

"No rules," Raph said, "Anything goes. Or went. That stopped a few years ago. I retired for real."

Alex massaged his temples. "Oh ... Jesus ... I think I’m on Mel’s side. She was *twenty* and ... I need to go sit in the dark and process this ... mess."

"Wait." Callie reached for him, but he skirted around her and left the room much more quietly than anyone else had. She looked at her father and shook her head. "They’re that freaked out thinking I was *twenty*! What happens when they find out I was *eleven* when you started teaching me?"

"Your mother will unleash hell."

Flopping back on the sofa, Callie let her tears fall without shame. "I think it’s safe to call this a clusterfuck."

Raph sat down beside her. "It’s the clusterfuck of all clusterfucks. Don’t tell your mother I used that word, kitten."

"Why are you not pissed about Nicky."

"He’s a dead man."

"Daddy."

"I could never be pissed at you for doing what I asked."

"You didn’t ask me to have sex with him."

"I asked you to do whatever it took." He pulled her against his chest when she sniffled again. "You know I never would have let anything happen to you, right?"

"You know that I’ve had too many close calls to do myself in, don’t you?" She looked up at him. "Because Mom doesn’t trust me. She thought I was drinking in Crete today. She took a page out of Alex’s book and tasted my water."

"Did she?" He kissed her head. "She worries, sweetness. So do I, but I know you. I believe that you have the heart of a lion and the courage of the tin man."

"It’s the other way around, but thank you for that."

"Your brothers will soon find out that I let you help me, but not them."

"We should run now."

"No. No more running." He patted her arm. "You’ve carried quite the load all these years. You let everyone think that you were simply running away and all the time ... it was for me."

"I ran a few times, Dad. I wasn’t always helping you."

He held her closer still. "Those times? You knew I was restless so you did it to keep me on my toes."

She brushed the tears off her face and said, "What are you gonna do about mom?"

"Plead? Cry? Beg?"

"You better start with apologies."

"What are you gonna do about Alex?"

"I only have to cry. He hates that," she replied, smiling up at him. "I’ll tell her that you didn’t want to let me help. I pretty much forced your hand by sneaking into FMC’s headquarters."

"You still won’t tell me how you did it?"

"Discretion is the better part of valor," she said, then jumped when the door opened yet again and Alex walked into the room. She sat up, her heart pounding. "Hey-"

"I just need to know -" he began.

Raphael cut him off. "She’s tired, son. And seeing her mother upset hurts her so unless you’re here to take my place and help her through that ... go away."

"I could never take your place," Alex told him, sitting on Callie’s other side and taking her hand. "I’m fine with my own."

"Okay." Raph got to his feet and kissed the top of Callie’s head. "I’m going to go talk to Melana."

"Good luck with that," Alex said. "She’s throwing your things off the glass balcony."

Swearing, Raphael hurried from the room. Callie and Alex sat in silence for a few moments, then she gasped and dug through her pocket, pulling out the chain she had bought for him in Crete. "This wasn’t supposed to be an apology, but nothing says I’m sorry like presents."

Alex let the pendant land in his palm, smiling. "An anchor."

"*My* anchor. I’m the mermaid, only better looking." She watched him hopefully. "This is the part where you kiss me and say that we’re fine."

"You know what I realized?"

"No." She swallowed, but it did nothing to remove the lump in her throat.

"I realized that anything you did in your past ... made you who you are today so I can’t get pissed about it. Because I love who you are and I’m fine. We’re fine." Cupping her face, he kissed her.

"Are you sure?"

"I’m positive." He kissed her again. "I realized something else, too. You’re not a flier. All this time I’ve been scared to death that I couldn’t compete with that. That I couldn’t hold you tight enough to keep you happy and safe on the ground, but I was wrong. You’re *not* a flier."

"I’m not a flier. Not *really*."

"So, I’ll take whatever you’ve done because it’s what you’re *not* gonna do that makes it worth it." He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling. "You’re not going anywhere."

"I’m not going *anywhere*. Except home. With you."

*~*~*~*~

Dinner was a silent affair. Only the clatter of silverware against the fine china indicated that there were diners at all. Addison and Mark sat on one end of the table and Addison, who got clumsier the more nervous she became, dropped her fork twice, but she didn’t speak, didn’t apologize. Callie glanced at her, feeling incredible sorry for her friend. This was probably *not* the way Addison wanted to spend her honeymoon. In the seat to her left, Alex sat pushing his food around on the plate and she wanted to tell him that he’d love the baked chicken, but she didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to herself.

It was Blake, high on pain medication, who finally spoke. "Cam! Stop smacking!"

"I’m not, but I want to. Smack, that is. A person!" Cambyses glared at Callie. "Hey, Nicky Lover, why didn’t you invite your boyfriend to dinner?"

"Leave her alone," Alex said, poking at his mashed potatoes.

"Your *wife* is loose," Cam fired back.

Callie bounced her yeast roll off her brother’s forehead. Stunned, Cam lifted up a handful of his mashed potatoes and it fly, hitting her in the face with it. Her chicken flew next, followed by his salad and her beans. The fight was on, then. Food, water, napkins ... even the beautifully arranged flowers in the centerpiece had their buds yanked off and tossed. When Cambyses made a move to crawl over the table, Mark grabbed him. Alex had to do the same with Callie.

Melana continued to eat as if a war wasn’t being waged three feet from her and ignored the fact that she had green beans in her hair.

Jonesy, the head chef, returned in the wake of it and gave a comical gasp, rushing forward to refill plates and salvage what he could. Raphael stopped him, "If they get hungry later, they can prepare themselves a sandwich. Take it up, Jonesy."

Callie said nothing as the chef cleared the table with the help of two other cooks. She took Alex’s napkin from his lap and wiped at her face. Cam threw the frigid contents of his water glass into her face in an effort to ‘help’ her. "Ooops," he mocked.

Kicking him hard under the table, Callie hissed, "Jackass!"

"Scarlet woman!"

"Jealous bastard!"

Cam shrieked. "Jealous!? Did you just call me jealous!?"

"Dear Diary," Callie used a voice that was meant to draw blood. "I hope Nicky will come to visit today. He’s so handsome. I don’t know why he doesn’t notice that I’m always hanging around."

Putting a hand over his chest, Cam looked scandalized. "Did you actually read my diary?!"

"Did you actually think I wouldn’t!?" she shot back.

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU TO DEATH!"

"That is enough," Raphael calmly interjected. "We are supposed to be civilized."

"Civilized!?" Mel exclaimed, throwing her fork onto her plate. "So civilized that you prostituted your *only* daughter to the enemy so you could hack his computer! You had our *child* doing your dirty covert work."

"He didn’t tell me to do that, Mom," Callie said. "If that’s all Dad needed then he could have gotten Cam to do it. He would have been glad to."

"YOU WORKED WITH DAD!?" Cam bellowed. "AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME!? DID HE TRAIN YOU!? DID YOU GO TO LANGLEY!? YOU *KNOW* THAT IS ALL I WANTED OUT OF LIFE!"

"No, I didn’t go to Langley! Dad quit the CIA when we were nine, stupid!"

"I am going to bed!" Cam shot to his feet. "I hate everyone!"

"You are not going to bed until you help your sister clean this mess," Raphael replied, tossing his napkin onto his plate. He glanced down the table at Addison and Mark. "I owe the two of you an explanation. All of you, actually. If you’ll accompany me to the salon, I’ll tell you everything ... while these two *children* repair the damage they’ve caused. Alex, Blake, you may as well come along, too."

Everyone except Mel got to their feet. Raphael hung back, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I’d like you to hear it too, mi vida."

"Choose your words wisely, Raphael, because a woman whose child is endangered can snap at the drop of a hat." Mel brushed his hand away and stood, stalking past him.

*~*~*~*~

"Stop talking to me."

"You’re being an infant."

"You lied to me for years."

"Because you’re an infant!"

"Stop talking to me, Callie."

"Please, Cam, this is stupid."

He threw the dishrag into the sink and shook his head. "I always talked to you about my dreams of being an agent. Always. I talked to you and you pretended to sympathize and all along you were living my dream. MINE!"

"I was never an agent! I wasn’t! I helped out sometimes when Dad needed me. I didn’t tell you because of this! Because I knew you’re freak!"

"I have never kept secrets from you!"

"I know that. I’m sorry."

"You’re not sorry!" He looked ready to cry. "Did you ever kill anyone?"

"No. Never," she replied. "Do you really think Dad would let me go there?"

"But -"

"You killed someone, Cam, and it nearly destroyed you. Do you really think you would have wanted that life?"

"That’s not the point, Cal! The point is that our parents came and got me at Langley when I was eighteen years old! Dad *cried* and begged me not to pursue that path and all that time ... you were helping him. Right?"

"I did not get to join the CIA! I wouldn’t have!"

"I’m telling Stav and Louk and then we’ll all be pissed at you together."

"Like I need that!"

"It’s not always about you!"

She started to cry again and whirled on her heel to leave. He caught her and turned her to face him. "I hate being mad at you, Callie."

"Then stop. We’re better than this!" She clutched at his arms, holding on tight. "I only helped him sometimes. That’s all."

"You know," Cam shook his head. "We used to say that we didn’t want our lives to be built on lies like everyone else's. You hated it as much as me and just ... just look at what you’ve done. You and Dad have destroyed our mother! She’s *broken*. This is worse than anything we’ve ever done together."

Alex walked into the kitchen and looked at the siblings. "Cam, Raphael said that he’s about to tell the part that you don’t know, so maybe you’d like to be there."

"It’s nice that someone will tell me. Finally."

Callie sat down at the bar, resting her head on the counter. Alex put his arms around her and held on. It didn’t calm her nearly as much as it should have.

*~*~*~*~*

Raphael stopped talking when Callie and Alex finally joined them. He took one look at Callie and got to his feet, giving her a reassuring hug. "It’s all out in the open."

"Everything," Melana agreed, gesturing at the room. "Things I didn’t know myself until tonight. As you can see, they’re all as shocked as me."

"Not shocked," Mark corrected. "Taken aback."

"Shocked works for me," Blake said. "Are you actually telling us that the CIA wanted Callie and -"

"They did." Callie stepped away from her father and sat down on the couch. She had always wondered how it would feel to expose the truth to her family, but she didn’t feel relieved. She simply felt apprehensive. "I called Dad and told him that I had been contacted so he formally named his agency FMC and told them it was a conflict of interest because I was already invested in his organization."

"FMC?" Mel asked, eyebrow raised. "What does that mean?"

"For My Children," Raph replied. "No matter what you might think, they’re the reason for everything I’ve done."

Melana got to her feet and paced to the window, pushing the curtain aside to peer out. "So what exactly were you using our daughter for? You’ve skimmed over that part."

"You’re looking at it. Talking Rock. More than anything else ever has ... that place gets under my skin." Raphael shivered involuntarily. Only his children picked up on it. Everyone else was looking at Melana, who had spun so quickly that she ripped the curtain down.

"YOU TOOK HER TO THAT PLACE AFTER WHAT HAPPENED TO HER!?"

"I wanted to go!" Callie assured her. "I needed to go. I couldn’t let it ... fear cripples a person and I didn’t want to be crippled by it."

"How old were you when he dragged you there?" There was no longer fire in Melana’s voice. She sounded old, worn out. "And don’t lie to me."

Raphael didn’t let Callie answer. "Eleven. We started to investig