Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
Pairing: Mark/Callie implied, George/Callie implied, George/Izzie implied
Summary: The companion piece to She Let Go. Callie's point of view as she dances with Mark.
Mark Sloan can *dance*.
He moves on the dance floor the same way he moves under the sheets. Six songs in a row now and I feel like I’ve been thoroughly seduced.
But it ain’t happening.
At least for now. He starts to look better and better as the nights get longer and longer on Cristina’s couch, though. Well, my couch. I couldn’t sleep on the sad excuse for a sofa she had so I bought another one. It’s way better. It folds out into a bed, but I don’t even bother to open it. I just flop onto it with no cover because cover means hiding and I can’t hide anymore. This is what it is and I. Am. Okay.
Mark leans in and tells me that my stalker is still watching. I turn my back into his chest and grind my hips against his crotch. Sure enough, George is openly appraising us while he talks to Joe. I’d love to be a fly on the bar. I bet he’s saying that *curvy* girls shouldn’t dance. Maybe I turn his stomach now that he's had sober sex with his Cinderella. Or maybe he’s talking about how Izzie is such a great dancer. Or hell, who knows. I don’t. I don’t want to know.
I tried to forgive George. For a while, I really thought I could. I said the words, I sat beside him in the car, and I went to work thinking that I had handled the admission of his infidelity with enough dignity that it couldn’t possibly hurt me anymore. I was wrong. I couldn’t even look at him that day. I couldn’t stand to hear his voice or smell that stupid soap he loves so much. I couldn’t even say his name. It was the rain that woke me up. I was going to call a cab and leave my adulterous husband with the car when I stepped out of the hospital that night, but the rain started to fall and it washed over me, into me, drowning everything in my heart. If love was still floating in there somewhere ... I didn’t feel it.
Oh, I still said the word ‘forgive’ as if speaking it could somehow make it true, but it didn’t. He didn’t want my forgiveness. He didn’t want *me*. It was high school all over again. It was waiting for the great guy to notice you and watching him waste his time with the cheerleader. I didn’t forgive him. I can’t forgive him.
And dancing like this ... with a guy who keeps asking me to sleep with him ... at least I feel wanted.
I’ve never felt that way before. Never. Not like this.
On the day that George’s dad was buried, I couldn’t sleep. So, I bought a ton of food and headed out to his mother’s house to cook. Ronnie and Jerry gushed about the food, kept hugging me for it, kept thanking me for being there, but George made me feel like an outsider. Like the maid who was expected to cook, but stay at arm’s length. Stay just outside the family. Louise had clung to me like a lifeline and there were times that George would let me comfort him, too, but for the most part, he never really met my eyes.
So you can imagine my shock when I went to check on him a couple of days later and he yanked my clothes off. It was horrible sex. It made me feel disgusting and *discarded*, but I did it. Repeatedly. I ached for days.
I was still aching when we went to Vegas and got married. While he was out shopping for the ring, I shopped for a teddy and bought a red one. It was mostly lace, mostly sheer, and I felt beautiful when I walked into the bedroom after our wedding and he dropped the remote control in his hand. Even though my body still ached from the way he had used and abused it ... I gave him everything I had and he seemed to be honored to have it. At least ... it felt that way.
For a while.
I’m not a fool. I’m not. I know that most marriages are doomed and mine was probably more doomed, but to me ... to me it was the greatest thing I’d ever done. I had more pride in that stupid marriage certificate than I had in my medical degree. After a bad day ... all I had to do was look at it and the tension would fade from my body so fast it didn’t leave a mark. That paper meant that I had someone. ‘Til death. To love me, honor me, cherish me and hold me.
I need to burn that damn paper.
Mark slides away from me and puts another dollar in the jukebox, punching numbers in while I finish off my gin and tonic. I’m just tipsy enough to not care that he touches me in all too familiar ways when he comes back over and pulls me into his arms. George isn’t the only one looking now. I bet they’re all wondering how the overweight weird girl is commanding the attention of Seattle Grace’s premiere bachelor.
He wants to get laid and George O’Malley has stripped me of everything ... especially my pride.
It won’t always be this way.
I know in my heart that Izzie Stevens is not what George needs. She may be beautiful on the outside, but she’s not pretty at all beneath her skin. She’s self centered and judgmental and *mean*. George used to make fun of girls like that in movies and he’d say, every once in a while, that he was glad that I had a kind heart.
I guess he didn’t think that kind hearts break a little harder than the rest.
I hate that he broke me.
I hate that I still think of calling him when something happens or ... because hearing his voice used to be like a balm to my soul.
In a way, I feel sorrier for him than I do myself.
He chose the snake in the grass and from the looks of him ... he realized that she’s poisonous.
As for me .... I’m laughing again. I’m dancing during surgery. I’m smiling at random guys and they’re smiling back.
I let go.
And I am free.
Maybe I will go home with Sloan tonight.
Nothing complements freedom like multiple orgasms and man who insists that you sleep on his chest all night long.