Title: The Shadow and the Real
Author: DianeB
Rating: T
Pairing: Hahn/OFC, Robbins/Torres
Summary: Set in my "Twenty-Twenty" universe, after part two of the S5 finale, "Now or Never," this story outlines what happens after Erica gets word of the death of George O'Malley.
Author's Note: I'm speculating again this summer, and more's the pity, because it was lots more fun last summer. Still, I wanted to give Erica a chance to see Callie again, though it's the worst reason for a reunion. Fair warning to Hahn/Torres fans: This isn't Callica.
Thanks to my Mighty Editor Goddess Brenda S. and to Jules 68, who always provides an honest, objective opinion. Written in July, 2009. This is my sixteenth Grey's Anatomy story.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Grey's Anatomy. Written with the understanding that the start of S6 will likely spoil this scenario. (Well, that and the fact I'm pretty sure Brooke Smith won't be guest starring on Grey's Anatomy any time soon.) This is also femslash (lite) and there are some bad words and taking of the Lord's name in vain. If any of this bothers you, please don't read this story.
Erica sat numb, her cell phone open on the desk before her, the rest of the world falling away. It could not be. This wasn't happening. Callie did not deserve this. No one deserved this, but especially not Callie. It wasn't fair.
But it had happened and Erica knew it was neither fair nor unfair; it simply was, a fact that offered little comfort. For the fourth time, Erica listened to the voicemail message that had brought her world to a standstill.
Doctor Hahn…this is Arizona Robbins. Calliope asked me to call you right away…to tell you what's happened. I'm afraid it's terrible news, and I wouldn't normally leave a message like this on a phone, but there's so much going on here right now, and I need to get back to Callie and…it's George…Doctor O'Malley….he's, I'm so, so sorry…George was in an accident. He…he stepped in front of a bus to save a woman…and he was badly hurt…and…and he didn't…he didn't survive his injuries. I'm afraid George…died last night—
Doctor Robbins stopped talking, interrupted by a great deal of background commotion that Erica couldn't readily identify, except to say it included weeping that sounded too much like Callie. And then the doctor was back on the line, her voice filled with a false strength that Erica immediately recognized as a tactic many in the medical profession used to shield themselves from pain. Erica cursed cell phones with their spectacular technologies that picked up every sound, every nuance, good and bad.
George's mother and brothers have already arrived, but as you might imagine, George's mother is inconsolable. Karev tells me his brothers are uncharacteristically subdued, but I wouldn't know about that, and Karev is in his own pain with Izzie right now, so I didn't want to question him further. Arrangements…uh…funeral arrangements haven't been made yet. Calliope asked me to ask you if you would come to the funeral. Please call Callie's cell when you get a chance. Don't worry, she won't be alone; I'll make sure of that.
Erica heard more commotion, the sound of other people crying in the background, and then in the foreground she heard what she knew was Callie – sweet, precious Callie – lamenting in what could only be her native tongue. The call ended abruptly as she heard Callie moan Madre de Dios, no, no, no, no.
The sound of a double knock on her door brought Erica back to herself, to her sixth-floor office at the Johns Hopkins Heart & Vascular Institute in Baltimore. Her assistant, Rosalie, opened the door and popped her head in. Erica must have looked pretty bad, because Rosalie's normally cheerful demeanor changed immediately to one of concern.
"Doctor Hahn? What's wrong?" She opened the door wider, but didn't come any further into the room. "You're white as a sheet! What's happened? Is it Marjorie?" Marjorie Richardson was one of Erica's more critical patients.
Erica inhaled deeply and employed the very tactic Arizona Robbins had used, infusing her voice with strength she did not feel. While Rosalie had truly become an "indispensable" assistant in the months since she'd been working for Erica, and the two women had become friends, Erica had not shared much about herself, and Rosalie had never pushed. "No, Rosie, Margie's fine. There's…there's been a death of one of my former colleagues at Seattle Grace. Sudden. Unexpected. I have to…I'm going back to Seattle for a while." Belatedly, she realized Rosalie was still standing in the doorway. "Come in, come in," Erica said, waving Rosalie in, "I didn't mean to frighten you. I need your help."
Rosalie came to sit in the chair opposite Erica's desk, her ever-present notepad at the ready. "Right, then. I'll call John Samson first," Rosalie started, all business, leaning forward and making notes on the pad. "I know he's available to cover for you for as long as you need. If not, Karen Withers is. We can cancel next Tuesday's lecture. The interns will be relieved. Do you want me to call the airlines? How soon do you need to be there? Have arrangements been made? Is there a funeral home I can—" And here Rosalie looked up, shut her mouth, and sat back.
Erica's world had faded again, thinking about the sound of Callie crying. Calliope. Arizona had referred to Callie as Calliope. Erica knew this was Callie's given name, but she had never used it, mainly because Callie thought it made her sound more like a bellowing steam instrument than a "beautiful-voiced" Muse of Greek mythology. Erica, of course, disagreed with Callie's assessment, but out of respect for the woman she had been falling in love with, had never addressed her as Calliope. Yet…the name had sounded perfectly natural coming from Arizona Robbins. Musical, even…
It was another moment before her desk top came back into focus and Erica realized Rosalie had been quiet for a while. She looked up and offered a wan smile. "Rose, I'm sorry."
Rosalie stood, her notepad tucked in the crook of her arm. "No, Doctor Hahn, I'm the one who should apologize. It's clear this is affecting you more than you may realize. I think we need to get you on a plane sooner rather than later. Let me go take care of that right now."
Erica sighed and nodded, her head filled with images of Callie Torres and what must be going on at the hospital. "I think you're right. Thank you."
End Chapter 1
oOo oOo oOo
Am I kin to Sorrow?
-- Edna St. Vincent Millay