Grey's Anatomy 1. Chapter 1

********

******Okay, originally this started off as an innocent iPod drabble to get the creative juices flowing, and then I swear Shonda stole our shared brain and hi-jacked my plot... so, this did belong to me until she decided to steal it, but only Belfastgirly will believe me. :P**

Thanks to the amazing Gauzepaws who read over this and encouraged me to post, yes I did fangirl... Also thanks to V and Alma for pushing me to post. To Soricha who kicked my butt back into writing mode and as always to the wonderful Mel, who well, she just owns... end of...

Hope you all enjoy...

**Callies POV**

She stands in my doorway, with that look on her face like she's trying to apologise for everything and all I can think is how hard I want to slam the door. Like literally throw the door into the hole I created when I opened it, and listen as the sound reverberates through the empty hallways shaking her where she stands and letting her know that's exactly how she made my heart feel the moment she turned her back on me. But I can't.

I see the tears falling down her face, and I'm reminded of my own for the past few months, and how with each one that fell I tried to love her less. It didn't work. I want to tell her it's too late for sorry… that I can't sit around and wait for her to decide she wants me, I'm worth far more than that… at least, that's what I'm working on telling myself with every passing day without her. Now she's here, and I'm frozen.

My hands won't move like I tell them to, instead they almost go against my wishes, clinging to the door as if punishing me for giving up. Forcing me to stare into those ocean eyes I could happily have drowned in months ago, back when things were good, when this was a fight I felt I could lose. After weeks of telling myself I was over her, here I was feeling as powerless as I ever did, watching the glimmer of hope in her eyes as a small smile tugged on the corners of her mouth lifting them towards the heavens I'd have taken her to if she would have stayed and then it hit me, she left, and I deserved more.

Shaking my head, I allowed my gaze to fall to the floor, pushing with all the strength I could find as the door closed and blocked her view. Turning my back to where I knew she still stood, I allowed it to slide down the door till I found solace on the floor, my legs shaking and my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe, my head collapsing into my knees which I held to my chest in desperation. It's over now.

I can hear her outside, hear the muffling of her voice as she tries in vain to hold back the tears I knew could easily have filled an ocean, I know because I cried them too, the difference between us, was that I would have swam a sea of tears to be with her, but she said she would be happier, without me. I would and did, give up everything I held dear, because in all honesty it meant more to hold her and yet all I can remember when I close my eyes and cup my face with my hands to catch the falling memories, is that she never fought for me. I tried telling her this was a two way street, I told her if she left without me that was it, but I never really meant it, I thought she'd stay. I thought the threat of losing me forever would be cause enough to stop her in her tracks and make her realise what we had was special, clearly I wasn't special enough.

She's breaking now, my name falling from her lips surrounded by pleas and cries of 'I'm sorry' she should never have had to utter. I clench my hands into fists not out of anger, but more to stop myself from splaying them at either side of myself and getting to my feet, my hands are the betrayers, if I gave them an inch they'd take a mile and within minutes be tangled in her hair and encouraging my lips to take hers. I can't allow that, not just yet, as much as I have ached for her, I need to know she has ached for me, like literally. I know people think I'm weak, and I give my heart too easy, but I gave her so much more than I've ever given anyone else, she had all of me, wore my heart around her neck and then with a simple offer of a sunnier climate and the prospect of having to hear me bitch for sixteen hours, she threw it away.

I know I was wrong, I know I wasn't the supportive, caring girlfriend she needed, but I was proud. Every second of every day since I heard she had won, I was beaming, albeit it on the inside. I blame myself, I have done from the moment I saw in her eyes the need to get away from me, the need to want to be somewhere I was, the moment I heard her say those words I blame myself. It's that feeling of blame that sits on my shoulders like a weight I've never felt in such magnitude and it's that blame, that's stopping me from getting to my feet, from opening the door, and taking her into my arms. The place she should never have left.

These past few weeks for her have been about loss, have been about missing me, about trying to find happiness without me, and she's realised she can't be. For me, the past few weeks have been about me accepting that maybe I wasn't who she needed, I wasn't good enough for her, and that if what we had wasn't worth changing her dreams for, then maybe she was better living life for herself. I overheard her once, saying she found me miraculous, I should have told her that the only thing miraculous about me, was that I had found her, and convinced her I was worth the risk. There's a lot of things I should have told her, and as I sit here on the cold hard floor, my body numbing slowly from the cries I hear seeping under the door, I wonder if I'll ever find the courage to tell her them.

I think about letting her in, about swallowing my pride, letting down my guard and opening the door but I can't, it's not fair to either of us to just pretend this never happened, as easy as it would be for me to just accept her apologies and hope that things could be the same, how can anything be the same when the woman you love, left you.

I can feel her, sitting in the same position I am, back against the door that's separated me from her for the past two months and I turn, lift one hand and let it trace her outline through the two inch solid shape. I close my eyes and imagine cupping her face, my thumb brushing away at her the tears of sorrow that roll down her cheeks as freely as she is willing to let them, her heart finally opening up and allowing her to feel. I know it's hard for her, she a proud, independent woman and it's hard for her to admit defeat, but I know in this second she's already laid her armour down. I imagine the softness of her skin beneath my touch, her cheeks cold with the winter wind she's walked through to get to me, inhaling I can smell the heady mixture of her perfume and the salt that lingers on her lips, and it's that combination that really signals this is real.

I have dreamt of this, wished on night stars I could see from the balcony of the hotel room I made my home for a month that I would open the door and see her again. Each time my fingers touched the cold metal handles of a door, I would expect a vision in blonde and perky standing before me, with an apology and smile, and a promise that forever was still a possibility. I was a dreamer back then, but reality smacked me in the face with an empty threshold and a string of ungranted wishes, maybe I was greedy, maybe I should have limited my wishes to one per night, instead of sitting on the balcony and wishing for her on every star that dared sparkle in my vision. I was desperate, I needed to believe that there was a way she could come back to me, and my faith in her love for me was so shot, I resorted to childhood beliefs, because they're the purest kind, they're the kinds of beliefs and wishes that would have power to do amazing things, to bring happiness to the saddest of people, to fix the unfixable and to bring her back to me.

I whisper her name, hoping she can hear me, as I start a speech I know I need to get off my chest, hearing her shift against the door and I know she has her ear pressed to the wood, head resting against the door, her knees pulled to her chest. I want to comfort her, but I want her to know I need comfort too; I need answers to questions that have left me wide awake during hours I should have been holding her. I need to know, why now? Why at this moment is she here, why not earlier, I mean if she had missed me as much as her tale of tears and throat so raw from exhaustion suggests, then why didn't she call me? She wrote to Teddy, I mean, am I not worthy of her words, had she lost them somewhere over the ocean during that plane ride I could have endured with her? Why didn't she tell me she didn't want to be with me, sooner, was this some sort of last minute decision, and if so is that what our relationship boiled down to, a quick yes or no, a quick stay or go? That thought alone felt like a kick in the stomach, my body doubling over as I moved to my knees.

Pressing both hands against the door I steady myself, letting out a breath as I continue my assault of words, tears I thought I had long since shed, blurring my vision as I manage to muster up the courage to get to my feet, my legs shaking beneath me, wavering like my faith had since she left. I reach out to where my coat hangs beside the door, pulling it from its confines and wrapping it around me, one hand pushing at the shoulder length carefree curls that secretly remind me of her, pushing them into place before my hand found the door again. My hand shaking despite being assured of the sight I would see this time, I shook my head free of the questions that were pressing me, deciding that a rehearsed speech would only seem desperate, would only give her reason for minimal effort, when what I needed to see was her ability to fight for me, her need to fight for me, for us. If I was what she wanted, if I was still her 'girlfriend' like she had slipped out mere minutes ago, why had she told me we were over?

Twisting the handle to the door, my eyes wandered over her shape, her body small and fragile with worry, her tears staining a face I'd paint in my dreams using the purest of colours. I saw her heart aching as she looked at me, those eyes filled with apologies she could barely speak. I shook my head, biting down on my bottom lip as I surprised myself in extending my hand towards her, feeling the cold of her touch as her hand slid into my own and I pulled her to her feet. She offered me a small smile, a smile that begged for acceptance, a smile that masqued the hurt she felt, and the nights she knew we'd gone without. I took her in, feeling the perfect wash of warmth that came with loving her and as much as I had promised myself I wouldn't do this, I couldn't help but open my mouth and speak, and when I did… I knew things would never be the same.

"Why wasn't I enough for you?"

********

**More to come x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Gah, so getting in Arizona's head was far harder than Callies, but after wading through the masses of rainbows, butterflies and glitter abused finger paintings, I found myself one of those fairy dust IV's and hooked myself up to it…. This is the result.**

**Thanks go to Mel, who is always super awesome in pre-reading my drabbles and telling me that even though its super sad, its good…and to all you wonderful people who reviewed the latter chapter, it means more than you know. x**

**Arizonas P.O.V**

I stood outside the apartment, hand raised in mid-air, a knock threatening to find its way to the door in front of me. I knew she would be here, I had expected her to come running here the moment I left but Teddy had told me this wasn't that case. She told me this was a new arrangement, that Callie had been living in a hotel and had originally cut herself off from everyone, and I knew it was my fault. At a time where she needed people in her life, she had chosen to be alone; I had made her need to be alone. It had been hard, leaving her, it had torn me apart like I couldn't explain, I thought the tears that fell from my face would stop after a while but sixteen hours into my flight, as the wheels hit the single red dust clad runway I was still the same as I was when I left her.

I had tried to sleep, curled up against the window, a blanket pulled carelessly over my shaking frame as I willed my eyes to close but the second they did, I felt her. I felt her shape behind mine, her arms wrapping lovingly around my waist and her head resting on my shoulder, those almost waist length curls tickling my cheek as she whispered reassurances I needed to hear. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my neck as she sang lightly, a song she knew I loved, to calm me while the plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the sky, carrying us away from certainty and into the unknown. She was there, the caring, loving, miraculous woman I adored, and I wasn't alone… until I felt the plane move in that uncertain way it does when it finds an air pocket that could shake up a small country and as I reached out for her, moving to bury my head in her chest and grip her shirt so tight she would know I needed her… I panicked when I clutched nothingness.

She wasn't there, and it was my fault, I had known she hadn't wanted to come, I had known it was asking too much but I needed this, I needed the chance to do something spectacular. Come on, I was dating a woman who on a daily basis found a way to offend reason, making breakthroughs in her field and it was hard sitting in her shadow sometimes. I felt she deserved more; she deserved someone equally as amazing as she was and this grant would have been my opportunity to prove my worth. I know if I would have told her this she would have assured me that it was something I didn't need to do, her lips touching my forehead and her arms pulling me into a hold I could happily never stray from, and I'd stay there, I'd be happy just being with her but I'd always know, she deserved more.

I have this planned out, spent the past sixteen hours thinking about what to say to her and I know that it isn't going to be easy. I know the moment I see her I'm going to have to refrain from touching her, from falling to my knees and begging her to take me back, but begging won't do any good. I can't apologise for trying to be better for her, I can't tell her I'm sorry and I know that those two words will be the ones her ears will be listening out for. I let my hand fall to the door, the knocking frantic and as fast as my heart is beating in my chest. I hear her rustling inside, the clink of her spoon against a pan reminding me of the nights she would cook, and we would fall asleep in each other embrace, lazy and full and at peace in world where peace was rare. I hear her voice and it causes my heart to leap from my chest, pounding so loud against the rush of blood surging around my body that it feels like at any moment I could explode. I hear her feet shuffling closer to the door, envision her hand reaching for the handle and then I see her, and reality hits me in the face.

She looks different, not just the hair, there's a sadness in her eyes where there used be a sparkle, her mouth curling at the corners as she stares right into my soul and then it fades. There is uncertainty smothering her self-worth, and a fear that's taken up residence in her muddy brown orbs that I can see have lost their shine. I want to take it slow, tell her everything she deserves to hear, make her smile find its way back onto her beautiful face but instead my mouth opens and I start an onslaught I don't know how to stop. I watch her, not concentrating on what I say, but instead watching as she moves through her emotions swiftly, she doesn't need words, I can read her like an open book, and it's down to the fact that she never hidden her emotions from me, even though I have often locked my own away. I see her thinking about something, contemplating as her eyes move from mine and momentarily search the skies for reassurance.

My mouth is still running a mile a minute and I can tell I'm losing her and then one word falls from my lips and I have her again, only not in the way I intended. Now she's looking at me with confusion laced with pity and anger and I can tell what she's itching to do, I can see her fingers tapping against the doorframe and I can see the downturned corners of her mouth where her smiles now hide, like forgotten days. It's my fault, and all I can do is stand here, I feel the tears welling in my eyes and I allow one to fall down my cheek, admiring the way, even in heartache she has the power to take my breath away. She's a beauty, a goddess and I often wonder how I got so lucky as to find her, and its then she shakes her head, its subtle, the tiniest of movements that makes the largest of impacts upon me and I open my mouth slightly to contest. But it's no use; I find the answer to all of my worries and fears, when I find my vision of her impaired by the door she clung to earlier, for support.

I can hear her expel a breath, as thick as these doors are; I know if I huddle close I can hear her clearly. I place my hand on the door, mentally berating myself for everything, for leaving, for coming back, for not saying goodbye, or even saying hello. I know how hard this must be for her, I understand why she has reacted this way, but I won't say I'm not disappointed. I never expected her to welcome me with open arms, I know how much I have hurt her, but I expected something, even if it was her telling me she hates me, that would be better than the nothing she left me with, at least then I would know where I stand.

Instead I lower myself to the floor, closing my eyes as I try with all my power to hear her, to know her voice is still the same that she hasn't completely changed, I never broke her beyond repair. I need to hear her speak my name. She has this way of whispering it like a declaration made in the most amazing of moments, spilling from her tongue with the passion she showed me on those cold winter nights when I needed her the most. I can hear her choke back a sob and it kills me, to know I am the cause of her heartache, to know my need for greatness momentarily outweighed my need for her, but it never truly encompassed it. I could have pretended, could have pushed through the ache I felt in my heart without her next to me, but what kind of life is it without those you love around you. What kind of person gives up something as real and as fulfilling as what we had…a surgeon looking for acceptance, that's who.

I want to shout through the divider, tell her there wasn't a night I didn't wish for her, that across the thousands of miles, of land and ocean I could hear her voice whispering in my ear, praying alongside my own to help us find our way back to each other again. I wanted to tell her that with every child I helped, the smiles of appreciation on their faces meant nothing without having her there to see them, that I would have given up all the praise and thanks I received to hear the simple whisper of 'I love you' falling from her beautiful mouth once more. I wanted to tell her that I held her every night, that I would sleep, hands clutching my phone, frantically clicking in order to keep the backlight shining so that the background picture of her, was the last thing I saw at night, and the first thing I saw each morning. I wanted to tell her than in my darkest moments there, I would flip through my video files and find the clip from Valentine's day, when she had stolen my phone, and rigged an alarm to wake me, and the moment I woke up, I was greeted by the melodious twinkle of her laughter as she informed me of the many reasons why she loved me. I wanted to tell her that I kept us alive out there, for me, knowing there was a possibility was the only thing that kept me from truly breaking when surgeries didn't go as expected. I wanted to tell her those where the days I wished I had held my tongue at that airport, because to be able to turn to her, and feel the safety of her loving hold is something I can't live without.

The tears shake my body, and I fall to the floor, my back finding rest against the solid shape as I begin to fold. I don't know what I expected but this wasn't it. All I wanted was my life back, in all of its beautiful, raven haired glory. I needed my life back. I needed to feel that certainty I knowing that no matter what happened during my day, when I walked the lonely yet overcrowded streets of Seattle, lost in my own thoughts that the moment I opened the door she would be there, arms held out in a welcome I don't hesitate to accept. My head falling to her chest and my heart soothing as it falls to a rhythm she creates with her own, and she whispers to me, softly, and tells me that it's okay because she has me. I need her to still have me… still want me, but I know I'm asking a lot.

I hear her moving behind the divide, see the soft shadows under the door as she slowly rises to her feet, my head falling to my knees. I know this is over, it's too late, I came back too late. The door creaks open slowly and as I raise my head I feel my breath being stolen from me, the light shining from inside the apartment fills the pace above her head like the halo I know she inwardly wears, each time she saves me. Each time she chooses us over a dream she has been perfecting since childhood. I'm reminded of the encompassing awe I feel for her and when she reaches out her hand, I don't decline. I need her touch if I can't have her words. I remember the first time I held her hand, she had watched me, studying me like those notes I know she has lost herself in these past few weeks, searching for the slightest indication of doubt, and when I smiled at her, and nodded softly I was rewarded in that instant, with a love I should have given up. She pulls me slowly to my feet, and I resist the urge to fall to her chest, to wrap my hands in her shirt and plead for another chance to prove myself, but she steps back, lets her fingers unfurl from my own and she tilts her head. Her now above shoulder length curls bobbing at the sides of her beautiful face that is so full of a doubt I created, and I'm ashamed.

I let my head fall to the floor, gaze searching the marbled tiles for an answer to a question she doesn't need to vocalise, but she does and I'm not sure what to say. I hear the fear in her voice, the tremble of her tones as she tries to disguise the desperation in her words. I never wanted her to feel like this, having her hurt, having her look at me the way she is right now, her lips quivering in a sadness she's trying to hide in order to guard herself, her hands shaking as they fall to her sides and clench in the mirror action to my own. Moving my gaze to meet her own, I open my mouth slightly, she deserves this, she deserves an answer, if there is any chance of us reconciling I know she needs to hear this… and so I begin.

'You were always more than enough…'


End file.
