Current location:	Georgia
Current mood:	contemplative
Current music:	Lifehouse
Entry tags:	author: burningeden, shipper: alex/callie, shipper: burke/cristina, shipper: mark/addison

Title: Fallen (19/?)
Author: Chelle Storey-Daniel
RATING: NC17
Pairings: Callie/Alex, Mark/Addison, Derek/Meredith, Burke/Cristina
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.
Dedicated: To my Smore, my Yoda, and my Caddie. You know who you are. :)




A/N: You can't possibly read or enjoy this until you've read Ready for a Fall. Of all the fics I've written, that one is the one I'm most proud of. :)


Previously in Fallen... :)

One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen A
Seventeen B
Eighteen


*~*~*~*~*~*~

This is what Alex's tattoo looks like. :) Mrowr. Thanks, _nigella_!!

I know you deserve much better
Remember the time I told you the way that I felt
And that I'd be lost without you and never find myself
Let's hold onto each other above everything else
Start over, start over

I'll do whatever it takes
To turn this around
I know what's at stake
I know that I've let you down
And if you give me a chance
Believe that I can change
I'll keep us together
Whatever it takes

*~*~*~*~*~*~


Alex awoke with a gasp and instinctively reached for Callie. Her side of the bed was empty, however, and he pushed himself upright, scanning the room. The remnants of the nightmare were impossible to shake, even when he padded into the bathroom and splashed his face with water. Callie had been drunk enough in his dream for it to kill her and he had begged, pleaded, and threatened her until he was at his wit’s end, but she would not surrender the bottle. The last thing he remembered was seeing her eyes roll back into her head and Chief Webber pronouncing her dead. Rivulets of sweat ran between his shoulder blades despite how cool the bathroom was and when he pulled his jeans on, his hands were shaking. It had been that real. Dressing fast, he left the bedroom.

Callie was not in the galley, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the fresh bagels they had picked up the previous night were on the counter. At least she had eaten something. Her weight was a constant source of concern for him. She would lose and gain the way most women changed their shoes. You could tell if she was happy by whether or not her face was full and round ... which he preferred. He was about to reach for a bagel of his own when someone shouted outside the yacht. He abandoned the galley and raced topside in time to see a man in a small boat screaming obscenities at the shore.

"Hey," Callie said softly.

Alex turned and saw that she was sitting comfortably in the captain’s chair. Her face was filled with color because of the cold and he opened his mouth to tell her that she needed a bigger coat on when he saw the line of boats just behind Goon Docks. There were colorful signs hanging from the side of each boat and people holding signs dotted every available surface. "What the hell, Gothika?"

"This sucks." She sighed and indicated the shoreline. "Apparently the Makah Indians are whalers and today they’re going hunting. Those guys," she pointing a thumb over her shoulder, "are protesters. It got pretty ugly about an hour ago. I thought someone would get harpooned. I called the Coast Guard, but they haven’t gotten here yet."

He sat down beside her, eyeing the melee with apprehension. "Let’s leave."

"Well, I’d love to leave, Alex, but those asshats have decided to drop all kinds of nets and lines in the water that will get tangled up in the propeller. It’s their way of keeping the Makah people from getting out into open water." Scratching the side of her face, she shrugged. "But there is a silver lining."

"There is?"

She got to her feet, then sat down in his lap, nuzzling his cheek. "We’re alone, sorta, and I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling pretty nostalgic. I’ve been up here thinking about that day in the hospital when you kissed me for the first time. I don’t know if I ever told you, but I put on that stupid brown dress and -"

"I happen to be very fond of that dress."

Grinning, she gave him a kiss. "I put on that *stupid* brown dress and everyone was reacting to the new and improved me ... but you’re the only one that I wanted to see me. I think I knew I was falling in love with you even then. I *wanted* to fall in love with you."

"I’ve been remembering things, too. And if memory serves, you absolutely freaked out over me saying the word ‘love’ and decided that being eaten alive by a shark was better than going there with me."

"Wrong." She shook her head. "I freaked about *me* saying it because I had a complex about it. In my experience ... when you say those words ... your life goes to hell in a handbag." Giving him a smile she added, "Thanks for proving me wrong."

"Thanks for letting me." Alex pushed her hair back and cupped her cheek, his thumb trailing over her lips. "I’ve really missed you, baby."

"I missed you, too."

He opened his mouth to tell her that he hoped they never fought again, but the protesters behind them upped their taunts and he rolled his eyes. "How long ago did you call the Coast Guard?"

She checked her watch. "About an hour and a half. It’s weird. I’ve never heard of them taking so long."

As if on cue, a loud siren blared and Callie got to her feet. Alex followed suit and they watched as three boats approached. A man sat in front of each, checking the water for the nets she had warned them about, which they pulled onto their vessels with large metal hooks. It took close to an hour for the water to be cleared completely and by then, the guards had issued strong warnings to the hecklers and several had cleared out. A female guard boarded Goon Docks to thank them for the tip and gave the couple advice that both Alex and Callie found peculiar.

She told them to stay close to land and not sail north.

And the Coast Guard actually went so far as to escort Goon Docks toward Oregon instead of the prime whale viewing area that Callie had been heading for near the Gulf of Alaska. She glanced at Alex and let the engine idle when the escort boats went back the way they had come, leaving Goon Docks bobbing near the shore. "Why do they not want us going north?"

"I have no clue, but now I’m worried so let’s take their word for it. You remember that little Oregon town we stopped at on the way home from Disneyland?"

"Yeah."

"Let’s go back there. We said that we would and I’m in the mood to stretch my legs."

She studied his expression. "Are you okay?"

He thought of the nightmare that had awoken him and the apprehension he had been feeling as they were escorted away from the protesters felt a million times worse than it had. "Not really. I dreamed that you died last night."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah. You drank yourself to death. Right in front of me."

"There’s no chance of that," she replied, reaching out to take his hand.

Alex didn’t speak for a few moments. When he did, his voice was low. "Are you sure?"

"I am." She gave him a small grin. "So, that town you were talking about had a seafood restaurant that looked pretty good. You in the mood for crab?"

"Always," he said as he watched her throttle forward. Her assurance that she would not drink again, which in her case could easily be a death sentence, would have made him feel a lot better if she had not changed the subject so quickly.

Alex was not a stupid man. He knew that Callie had a very real problem with alcohol, but he wanted to believe her, he needed to believe her, when she said that she would not do it again. His father had been a slave to the bottle, lashing out at anyone and everything that he viewed as standing in the way and the man had never acknowledged it, never said that he would stop. Instead, his father, appropriately called ‘Buster’ by anyone who knew him, insisted that he was fine and only suffered from having a rough life. Callie, on the other hand, admitted that she had an addiction ... so she was *nothing* like his father.

Only in a way ... she was.

And it was that part of her, the unpredictable and untamed thirst for drunkenness, that terrified him to the core.

"Did I tell you that Addison’s pregnant?" Callie asked suddenly, cutting through his thoughts.

What could only be described as jealousy cut Alex to the bone. He listened to her ramble about Addison’s neurotic behavior and smiled and nodded at all the right moments, but inside, he felt pang after pang of longing. They should have had a baby first, he thought. If Callie had gotten pregnant on their honeymoon ... she never would have drank again or performed in the air show. It would have made all the difference in the world. He hated himself for thinking it, but their life would have been much better with a baby on the way. Callie seemed oblivious to his troubled thoughts and cheerfully rambled on and on for a while.

By noon, they had docked at the same quaint seaside town that had captivated the both of them before. He tied the yacht off and stepped onto the dock, holding his hand out to her. She let him help her step down and said, "Alex?"

"Hmm?"

"Maybe our five year plan should be a three year plan."

He held his breath, unable to believe he had heard her correctly. They had mapped it all out before they got married, deciding to try for a baby only after he completed his residency. Telling themselves that waiting was the smart thing to do had sounded great at the time, but five years felt like five million when faced with the reality of it.

She watched him, not saying another word. When he simply returned her gaze, she sighed, "Or not ... if you’re gonna freak about it."

Alex exhaled. "I think our three year plan should be a one year plan. I’m ready for a family, Callie. More than ready."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Callie put her arms around his neck. "So, we have a *one* year plan. And that’ll work out perfectly because I can make Addison give me everything that her baby outgrows."

Alex felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He hugged her tight, lifting her off her feet. It felt like winning the lottery and Christmas morning rolled into one. With his mouth against her ear, he said, "You’ll have to stop taking the Depo shots now, Gothika."

"Then I guess it works out that I didn’t keep my appointment Friday to get it done."

He set her down and narrowed his eyes at her. "You *planned* this!"

"Addison was being all braggy about being pregnant and I can share my family with her and be her best friend ... but I’m *so* not letting her have a kid that much longer than me."

He tugged her into his arms again, holding on with all that he had. "Just so you know ... we are *never* fighting again."

"Thank God," she replied, breaking his grip. "Because I’m tired of always winning."

She pinched his side and took off running.

He chased after her and knew that he’d never doubt her again.

*~*~*~*~*~

Cristina slumped in her chair as Jane Burke glared at her from across the table. Preston’s announcement that they had gotten married had been met with resounding cheers ... except from his mother and she had resolutely crossed her arms and glared at Cristina as if Burke had announced that he had been castrated. When their salads arrived, Mama decided to remind Cristina that Preston was allergic to tomato so she should abstain from eating it to be safe. Dutifully scooping the tomato from her plate, Cristina passed it to Meredith who simply raised her eyebrows. When the pork chops arrived, Mama questioned Cristina’s devotion to Judaism and took the news that Yang was not practicing it with the same scandalized face that she had utilized when she found out that Cristina was Jewish to begin with.

When Mama began to question Cristina’s upbringing, going so far as to call her a ‘cultural mutt’, Melana cleared her throat and put her own fork down with a thud. All eyes fell on her, but she kept her gaze firmly locked with Jane’s. "That’s a lovely necklace that you’re wearing."

Mama nodded at her and looked at the cascade of emerald’s at her throat. "And yours as well. Is it Cartier?"

"It was a gift from my husband. It was his own design." Reaching up, Melana rested her fingers on the largest of the emeralds. A smile tugged the corner of her lips when she remembered Raphael presenting it to her over twenty years prior. Her heart ached at the memory and her fingers itched to grab her phone from her purse and call him.

"I see." Jane glanced at Richard. "You’re a widow?"

"My husband’s in Florida," Mel replied absently, still thinking of making the call.

One of Jane’s perfectly tweezed eyebrows danced upward. "And you’re here with Richard. Why?"

"Mother -" Preston began.

Melana gave him a dazzling smile before she looked back at Jane. "Richard and I are friends. He’s been taking excellent care of my daughter and -"

"Your daughter?"

"Callie," Melana replied. "Have you met her?"

"Wasn’t she one of your bridesmaids?" Jane asked Cristina. "The one who kept talking about her husband? What was his name? George?"

"That’s her," Cristina said with a nod. "But she got George out of her system and married Alex."

Jane gasped. "But - that wasn’t - it’s only been -"

"When it comes to love," Melana interjected. "Your heart doesn’t really know what time it is. Which is obviously the case with Preston and Cristina. It wasn’t their time before, but it is now and I think that we should all remember that we’re here to celebrate a wedding ... not cultural differences."

Jane’s mouth tightened so much that she looked like she had been sucking a lemon. "There was no wedding to celebrate! They’ve eloped and deprived me of watching my only son get married!"

"I know your pain." Melana lifted her fork again and casually speared a piece of broccoli. "When Callie eloped I was devastated and I lost several weeks by holding a grudge and not returning her calls. I was incredibly disappointed. I would have loved an elopement dinner. I would have loved to be included in *something* so count your blessings, Jane, because you’re here to celebrate the *rest* of their life and not just one of many milestones."

"That’s very true." Preston put a reassuring hand on top of Cristina’s. "Please refrain from saying anything else negative, Mama, because we’re happy. And if you can’t be happy ... then you can’t be here."

Jane excused herself and went to the restroom in a ladylike huff. When no one made a move to follow, Melana rose and trailed behind her, standing in front of the long mirror over the sink to powder her nose. When Jane emerged from the stall and washed her hands, Mel spoke again. "You don’t have to like Cristina, but you have to like Preston because he’s *yours*."

"I don’t feel the need to discuss this with you."

"Is Burke your only child?"

"Yes."

"I understand your desire to look out for his best interests. I do." Melana snapped her compact shut and slipped it into her purse. "But I also understand that once our children are grown we can only guide them so far. Preston chose his path and the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with so instead of making it hard on them both, sit back and watch them together. You’ll see that he chose wisely."

"You don’t know *anything* about that girl. She’s -"

"Yes, I do," Melana corrected. "Callie was almost raped a few weeks ago and Cristina showed up to bathe her every night so she wouldn’t have to be embarrassed in front of us. At Callie’s wedding, it was Cristina who held my hand after the bride and groom left and it was Cristina who called me in August to talk her through preparing a dish that Preston fancied. She said he’d had a stressful day and she wanted to cook him a real meal. We talked for two hours and I have no doubt that she loves him in a way that any mother would hope for their child."

"Why didn’t she call me!? I know what foods he likes!"

"She didn’t call you because you probably would have degraded her even more over the phone than you did tonight in front of her friends." Melana straightened her purse and her shoulders. "Don’t make the mistakes that I did. I cut my son out of my life for *years* because I didn’t approve of his boyfriend. Now that I’ve come to my senses ... I know that I gained another son, just like I gained a son with Callie’s husband."

Jane’s eyes filled with tears. "But she -"

"You don’t have to say that you have an only child anymore. This is an exciting chance for you to embrace a bigger family and experience what having a daughter is all about. She’s a good girl, Jane. She’s a wonderful friend to my daughter, she’s one hell of a doctor, and she’s got your son wrapped around her little finger. If you gave her a chance ... I bet she’d wrap you around the other one."

Jane sighed when Melana squeezed her hand. "We wanted a big family. I was pregnant ... with a girl ... and we had a car accident. They took the baby and my womb with her."

"I’m very sorry to hear that." Melana instinctively hugged her. "I know that it’s hard to be shut out of a part of your son’s life, but like I said earlier, he’s inviting you into the best of it so meet him halfway. A wedding is, after all, *one* day. It’s what you do with the rest that matters."

"Thank you," Jane replied, grabbing a tissue to blot at her eyes. "I’m sorry to hear about the attack on your daughter. I hope she’s recovering well. She was delightful the day the girls all tried on wedding attire."

"My daughter was delightful while trying on *dresses*? Apparently you have mistaken her with someone else." Melana chuckled. "Now, I don’t know about you, but I could always use another friend so before we leave tonight let’s exchange phone numbers and perhaps we can get together to lament our children again soon."

The two women made their way back to the table, chattering animatedly with one another about the French Provincial chandeliers that hung over every table. When they sat back down, the dessert arrived and Jane, in a complete about face, lifted her fluted champagne glass and made a toast to her son and his new bride. Cristina’s eyes found Melana’s and she grinned when the older woman winked at her.

Melana thought, as she dug into her chocolate mousse, that she had missed her calling as a motivational speaker. She could usually get anyone to see things her way and if speaking with kindness and reason didn’t do it, her shouting usually could. She had certainly shouted enough at Raphael to make her point of view loud and clear. Painfully clear.

As she finished off her dessert, she knew that the person being punished the most right now ... was her. She missed her husband. She missed the sanctity of their home and the familiarity of her things. She missed waking up in his arms and playfully debating whose turn it was to brew coffee. For over ten years, it had not been her turn and she doubted that would ever change, but it was a game they played and Raphael pretended to be annoyed, but his eyes shone brightly every time he brought her a steaming cup.

Melana missed her husband.

And the time that she had lost out on with Cambyses hung over her shoulders like a cloak. She had not exaggerated that to Jane. She wasn’t proud, but the truth was she had kept her distance from Cam for close to seven years. She saw him only when it was necessary, she never invited Blake into the equation, and she seized every opportunity to throw in a jab about his homosexuality. And Cambyses had forgiven her. He had looked past her shortcomings and embraced her with open arms.

So, she reasoned, as she glanced down at her purse again, she should do the same for Raphael. Because her children deserved a family holiday that was not overwrought with tension and *she* deserved the comfort of having her husband nearby because for most of her life, Raphael Benito Torres had been her rock, her heart, and her *everything*.

Melana was pulled from memory lane when Addison tapped her on the arm. "What is it, honey?"

Addy leaned a little closer to her. "I know this is a bad time to ask because it’s Cristina’s night and all, but I’m gonna eventually have this baby and, well, I always wanted my mom to be there, but ... would you? Do it, I mean? Be there. If you’re squeamish or -"

Melana’s eyes filled with tears. "I’ve had four children. Squeamish isn’t in my vocabulary. And I would *love* to be there."

"Yeah?"

Hugging her, Mel whispered, "Absolutely, sweetheart. And by the way, if you’d like me to paint a mural in the nursery just say the word."

"Consider it said. This baby was conceived in Greece so if you could bring that to him, that would be great," Addy replied, grinning at her. She glanced across the table at Jane, who was telling Cristina a story about Burke’s childhood and whatever it was clearly amused the younger woman and everyone around them. "Whatever you said -"

"You’ll join the mother club very soon and when you do, you’ll see that everything makes sense, words come easy, and you can do things you never dreamed possible. Just wait and see."

*~*~*~*~

Callie’s feet were killing her when she finally boarded Goon Docks. The sun was setting and her stomach was entirely too full of crab, but she sighed with contentment when Alex stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. They had enjoyed their day far too much. After having lunch at a small chain restaurant, they rented bicycles and toured the city, stopping to shop or indulge in too much chocolate at the local candy store. They poked around at an amusement park, took old fashioned saloon photos, and finally crashed at the seafood restaurant where they talked about everything. And nothing. It had been calm, relaxing, and they had laughed easily, stealing kisses, and holding hands.

That was what their marriage should have been all along.

With a happy sigh, Callie leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Look at that sky."

Alex obliged her, gazing up at the blazing colors that signaled the end of the day. "It’s beautiful."

She nodded. "I heard someone talking about the Northern Lights. Supposedly they’re going to be crystal clear tonight. We should go out further into the ocean and drop anchor away from the city. We’ll get a better view."

The apprehension that had plagued him most of the day came back in full force. "I don’t know. The Coast Guard -"

"They probably thought we were involved with the whaling thing." She turned and grinned at him. "Besides, if we go further out there," she pointed her thumb at the darkening ocean, "we can have a blast in the hot tub. Naked."

"I’m in," he replied instantly, untying the yacht from the dock. "Let’s go! What are you waiting for?"

She laughed and started the engine, carefully backing away from the mainland. She pointed Goon Docks back toward Seattle, flipping on all the running lights, and turned on the radio, listening to the chatter from other vessels. When Alex joined her a moment later with two bottles of water, she was frowning.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, leaning closer to her to check the gauges.

"Listen," she said, turning up the volume.

A conversation between two weary sounding crab fisherman was underway.

"They escorted me right out of the Gulf of Alaska without so much as an explanation. Just said that they were keeping the area clear because of a whale in distress. I’ve been on this water for over forty years and I’ve never heard of anything like it."

"I’m right there with you," replied the other man. "We were told to dock in Oregon. They didn’t even let us stay near Washington. I’m hearing reports all over the place that -"

A sudden burst of static had Callie adjusting the dial.

Every channel was fried and she turned the volume down, glancing skyward. She saw a small aircraft in the distance and shook her head. "If I didn’t know better I’d say that someone was jamming the airwaves."

"What does that mean?"

Callie turned the volume back up, meeting his eyes. "There’s no reason for the radio to be this scrambled. It’s a clear night, our antenna is just fine, and -" Something beeped suddenly and she looked down. The compass on Goon Dock’s dash was rolling in a perfect circle, pointing in no particular direction. A second later, she felt her earrings start to move and reached up, pushing her hair behind her ear. Slipping off the left one, she let it dangle from her fingers and watched it whip in a circle. Her eyes went back to the plane, which was now almost overhead. The compass and the earring continued to swirl erratically and when the plane finally cleared and moved to the south, everything calmed. The radio came back up as well.

Swallowing hard, Callie followed the aircraft with her eyes. "As soon as the sun comes up ... we’re going home."

"Why wait?"

She glanced back down at the gauges. "Because it’s gonna be dark in about fifteen minutes and there are reefs and a ton of other things to hit that I won’t know about if our instrument panel is being fucked with."

There was a burst of static on the radio again and another plane, this one much lower, flew across the horizon. Once again, the controls went crazy and Callie retrieved a pair of binoculars, studying the numbers under the wings. "That’s a military plane. Take a look."

Alex accepted the binoculars. He wasn’t sure what he was looking *for*, but the fact that there were unmistakable missiles on the underbelly was a sure indication that she was correct. Against the sunset, it was an ominous and strange sight. "What do you think is happening?"

"I don’t know." Flipping open her cell phone, Callie dialed her father’s number. It went straight to voice mail and she left a short message, telling him to call her and assuring him that everything was fine.

After nearly two hours of sailing, Callie dropped the anchor several miles from the Washington Coast and turned in her seat to study her husband. He looked pensive and troubled so she reached over and put a hand on his leg. "The radio’s fine now and I haven’t seen a plane for a while."

He scanned the darkness around them, then gasped when she turned off the overhead lights. The sky was awash in greens and golds and reds. Callie got to her feet and gazed in wonder at the fantastic display of Northern Lights. They were surrounded and the lights were bright enough to reflect off the water. "That’s probably what the Coast Guard was doing. I bet the water near Australia is already full of sight seers who want to witness this first hand."

"You think?" Alex reached down and took her hand, reassured at her words despite the unbelievable tension in his body.

"That’s gotta be it," she replied, smiling at him. His face was a kaleidoscope of color and she cupped his cheek. "I’m really sorry, Alex, for everything."

"I’m really sorry, too." He took a step closer and kissed her. It left them both breathless and when he pulled away, he inclined his head toward the nose of the yacht. "Hot tub?"

"Race you."

She took off running, then skidded to a halt when a jet of water shot up beside the railing. Something big bumped the underside of the yacht and her mouth opened to form a perfect ‘o’ when she saw what was just below the surface of the water. There, reflected in the running lights, was a baby whale, one of its eyes turned upward to look at her. It was one of the most amazing things she had ever witnessed in her life and she didn’t know whether to jump in with the animal or run for her camera.

Alex swore when he saw that the calf was accompanied by its mother. The larger whale blew frigid water all over the place, drenching everything in the vicinity. Callie pushed her wet hair off her forehead and kneeled down, reaching over the side. "This is unbelievable!"

"Callie, would you please-"

The mother whale hit the yacht again and just like that ... Callie went over, head first, partially landing on the baby.

"Shit!" Alex cried, prepared to launch himself overboard as well. He forced himself to remain on the yacht, however, because the water was cold enough to kill and he needed to know where Callie was before he dove in unaware. Hypothermia would set in fast, so he grabbed the life ring and prayed for her to resurface. "C’mon, Gothika."

After what felt like a million years, Callie came up looking shell shocked from the cold, then she cried out in fear. Something nudged her backside and lifted her completely out of the water. She fell back, resting her elbows on the top of the whale’s head, which she would have been straddling if her legs opened that far. She slipped off the animal and back into the water when it veered to one side and when she came up again, her entire body was stiff from the cold. Alex splashed into the water beside her and tugged her to the ladder, half carrying her when he realized that she was too cold to move.

He forced her up the ladder, shoving with his shoulder when her limbs refused to cooperate. When they were safely on the yacht, he gripped her shoulders and shook her lightly. "Are you okay? Say something!"

Callie’s teeth were chattering too badly to reply and when she looked down at her fingers, she saw that they were blue. "C-cold."

Alex wasted no time pulling the cover off the hot tub. When she didn’t join him, he lifted her and gently eased her into the warm, soothing water. She groaned in relief, then in pain, as her fingers and toes began to thaw. He didn’t let her clamber back out of the tub, however, and held her firmly in place. He knew that getting her warmed quickly was the most important thing after the drop in body temperature. When he saw the tears in her eyes, he pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back. "I know it hurts, baby."

"I a-am *never* g-going s-s-sailing a-again!" she sniffled, still shivering uncontrollably. Her teeth clanked and her entire body ached from the chills which seemed to emanate from the inside out. The tingling pain in her limbs was as uncomfortable as it was uncontrollable and she buried her face in his neck. "A-are you o-okay?"

"I was only in the water a second. What is it with you and marine life, Callie?" He rubbed her hair and frowned, feeling the ice crystals forming there. "Wet your hair."

"I can’t move."

Alex did it for her, frowning when he saw how pale her face was. Reaching under the water, he felt the pulse in her wrist, then the one in her neck. It was a little slower than he would have liked, but that was to be expected. The body had a tendency to slow itself down after a water shock. He wet her hair again and waited for her to stop shivering, but she didn’t. Their breath was fogging up the night air and he shook his head. "I’m going to go turn the shower on and let it get hot. I’ll be right back."

She nodded and watched as he hurried below deck.

When he returned, she was so sleepy that she could barely keep her eyes open. He helped her from the tub and supported her weight as they made their way slowly across the deck. In the shower, he peeled her wet clothes off and bathed her, rubbing the circulation back into her hands and feet. His mother had acquired an electric blanket for the bed and he had turned it on so that when they were finally dry and slipped into bed, it was warm and toasty.

"I’m sorry," she said, her eyelids heavy. "I really, really wanted to make love with you."

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. "That’s what we’ve been doing all day, Gothika. All day."

She was sound asleep a second later and he was content to watch her in the splashes of color from the Northern Lights that shone through the window.

*~*~*~*~*~

"Thank you for a very nice time," Melana said as Richard walked her to the front door. "It was a lovely evening."

"Thank you for whatever you said to Jane. She can be very hard on people." Richard took her hand and helped her step up onto the porch.

The front door was yanked open so suddenly that Melana leaped forward, forcing Richard to catch her. She turned and looked, wide eyed, at her husband. "Raphael! What on earth are you doing here?!"

"What are *you* doing?" Raphael reached out and pulled her from Richard’s grasp, glaring at the other man. "Who do you think you are? I can not -"

"Stop!" Melana cried, putting her hands on her husband’s chest when he made a move to lash out at Webber. The feel of his strong, familiar body and the masculine, heady scent of her favorite cologne was enough to push her over the edge. Instead of letting her anger win out, she wrapped both arms around him and held on tight. "Oh, Raph, I missed you so!"

Stunned, Raphael returned the hug, smoothing his hand over her curls and cupping the back of her head. "I missed you, too, mi vida."

She began to cry against his shoulder. "I never wanted you to leave. Not really."

"I’m here now, honey, and I’m not going anywhere else without you. I promise."

"I love you."

Raphael’s voice trembled when he replied. "I love you too, Melana. I swear to you ... I will never lie to you again. I’ll tell you everything about FMC and about the CIA and about -"

"No." She leaned back and gazed into his eyes. "I only want to hear you say that you still need me as much as I need you because if that’s the case ... I don’t have to know anything else."

"I could tell you that," he said, giving her the same, sweet smile he had given her the first time he saw her at the market, "but I’d much rather show you."

"Raph!" She smacked him on the arm and turned to address Richard, but he was gone. They heard the front gate clank shut and she chuckled. "I didn’t even hear him start the car."

"You *do* need to tell me what was going on with him, Melana, because -"

"Hush." She put a hand to his lips. "I just want to look at you for a while. I never knew I could miss someone so much. I- I forgive you for what you did with Callie. It was wrong and dangerous and you could have gotten her killed, but you didn’t. You brought her back home to me every time and ... I love you for that."

"I shouldn’t have done it. If I could go back in time and change it ... I would."

"Let’s not worry with going back. Let’s go forward."

"Let’s go to bed." He grinned knowingly and pulled her into his arms. "It’s forward, isn’t it. After all, it’s that way."

"Let’s go to bed," she agreed, but neither moved as they clung to one another for what felt like an eternity.

*~*~*~*~*~

Callie awoke early the following morning and smiled. She was lying on Alex's shoulder and he was rubbing her side. "What time is it?"

"Five thirty."

"In the morning!?"

"Yep."

"That’s it. I’m going back to sleep."

"We wanted to get an early start back. Remember?"

When she lifted her head to look at him, she received a stark reminder of her impromptu swim and groaned in pain. "Shoot me, stuff me, mount me."

Alex chuckled. "Is it that bad?"

"Yep." She rolled onto her back and hissed to prove her point. "Honey?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What do you want, Gothika?"

"Food. If memory serves you were agreeable to all the cooking."

"You get food when you give me a kiss."

She pursed her lips together. "If I give you a kiss then you have to cook, not just warm a bagel."

"If I have to cook then I also get to cop a feel."

Callie lifted her shirt, trying hard to look put upon. "Get on with it."

Instead of lifting his hand to touch her ample breast, he lowered his head and captured her nipple with his mouth, letting his tongue dance against her taut bud. Her hand found the back of his head and her back arched as she moaned his name. He wasted no time finding her center. He slid the elastic of her panties aside and rubbed across her clit, earning an earth shattering kiss for his efforts. As his tongue dueled with hers, she lifted her hips and let him push her panties down, helping him shove them to her feet. He was already naked and his shaft rubbed against her hip, turgid and begging for attention.

Callie wrapped her hand around him, pumping slowly and he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. She felt the muscles in her back protest and made a face, "Ow. I hurt all over."

He touched her cheek, resigned to the fact that he was never having sex again. "You want some Ibuprofen?"

"You gonna get it?"

"You really are rotten." He gave her a kiss and eased from beneath her. "Pancakes?"

"That sounds good."

Alex laughed when she burrowed under the cover and covered her head. He pulled on his boxers and headed for the galley, whistling good naturedly. A search for the pain medication yielded nothing in the cabinet so he checked the spare bathroom and as a last resort he picked up her purse and set it on the counter, sliding the zipper down.

The tune that he was whistling died abruptly.

From the depths of her black oversized bag ... he pulled a small bottle of bourbon. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t believe it.

Glancing down, he saw another bottle and closed his eyes, unable to process it at all. The bedroom door creaked open and he heard Callie in the hallway behind him and slowly turned, holding up the bottle so she could see it. She drew up short, letting the belt of her robe drop from her hands. "Alex," she whispered, shaking her head. "I didn’t-"

"Why?" Alex clutched the bourbon in a tight fist as he yanked the vodka from the purse. He gasped in shocked disbelief when he saw the tequila. "Jesus Fucking Christ, Callie! What the hell are you trying to do? Kill yourself?"

"I didn’t drink anything."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You just carry it around for the hell of it?!"

"I - I bought it the night that my dad was leaving and -"

"So this is why you carry such big purses, huh? So you can keep your little stash and -"

"Did you hear me say that I didn’t drink anything!? I haven’t had anything since the *one* mistake that all of you refuse to forget!"

"I FORGOT IT UNTIL RIGHT NOW! YOU ARE A FUCKING JOKE, CALLIE! A FUCKING JOKE! YOU KEEP TRYING TO -"

"Alex, stop."

"STOP!? STOP!!?! YOU STOP!! WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO *LIVE*?"

"It’s not. I didn’t drink it. I don’t want it."

He clenched his jaw and glared at her. "Then why did you buy it?"

"Because I was pissed. I was pissed at you, at my family, at Addison ... and I just thought-"

"You thought? That was your first mistake. You can’t think at all. You’re obviously too stupid."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Don’t do this. Don’t start insulting me or calling me names. I don’t deserve it and -"

"You can revert to form ... but I can’t?"

"This isn’t your form. This isn’t who you are, Alex. And me being an alcoholic isn’t who I am, either. I was wrong to buy it, but I didn’t drink it and that matters."

"Not to me."

She angrily swiped a tear off her cheek. "Then what do we do? You have all the answers ... so what do we do?"

"You tell me! Is this what I have to look forward to? Do I have to go through your things to make sure you’re not hiding this shit? Do I have to watch the bank account to make sure you’re not -"

"No."

"Well, I damn sure can’t trust you so what does that leave?"

"OBVIOUSLY NOTHING!"

"Pour it out." Alex held out the bourbon.

"You pour it out!"

He stalked forward and gripped her upper arm, pulling her to the sink. When she didn’t take the bottle from him, he turned away and grabbed the tequila from her purse. He slammed it on the counter and glared at her. "I SAID POUR IT OUT!"

"Stop yelling at me!"

"By god, Callie, I will -" He whipped her around to face him and raised his hand.

"Alex!" She reacted instinctively, covering her head with her arms as she cried, "Don’t!"

Alex, who had lifted his hand to simply point at her, was stunned. He didn’t move at all until he heard her sobbing and then he gently rubbed her arms, whispering that it was okay. Slowly, he pushed them down and hugged her. She was trembling, but his own shaking was worse. He smoothed his hand over her back and felt a surge of relief when he felt her arms go around his waist. They stood that way for a while and when he spoke again, the bite was gone from his voice. "I would never hit you, Callie. Never."

"And I would never drink again!" she sobbed. "Never!"

"Well, that’s good to know," he replied. "You gave me a pretty severe warning before we came on this trip. You told me you’d divorce me if I ever left you again and now I’m saying the same thing to you. If you *ever* drink again ... I *will* leave ... and it’s over."

She could see the sincerity on his features. The rug had been yanked from under her and she was as close to falling on her ass from shock as she had ever been. He had actually gone *there* and he meant every syllable of it. "I won’t."

"I know," he replied and realized that he meant it. "You’re not stupid, Gothika. I’m sorry that I -"

"Just ... don’t."

"But -"

Callie pulled away from him and opened the bottle of bourbon, tipping the contents into the sink. The vodka and tequila followed and when she threw them away and turned, her face streaked with tears. "How did we get here? What’s wrong with us?"

"It’s my fault." He pushed her hair back and tilted her chin. "I’m *mean* to you when I’m mad. So ... of course you’d think I’d hit you in the heat of it. I’m sorry. It - it’s my fault."

"No, it’s my fault. All you want is for me to be honest and I lied to you about the air show and I didn’t tell you that I had something to drink again so ... it’s understandable that you don’t trust me. I’ve ruined our marriage and -"

"It’s not ruined."

"It *is*," she cried. "All we do is fight and yell and make each other miserable."

"That’s not all we do." He took her hand in his. "Until very recently, we spent all of our time laughing and enjoying our life, Callie. You know that."

She nodded her head. "I miss that."

"Then let’s get it back."

"How?"

Alex kissed her. It was a hungry, primal kiss that forced her legs to weaken and her heart to flip in her chest. She felt his longing, his need, and returned it full force. As one, they sank to the floor in front of the sink and he pushed her robe open. His hand found the bottom of her shirt and he pushed it upward, mimicking his actions from earlier in the bed. Latching onto her nipple, he let his tongue flick against it until it was hard, then moved to the other, repeating his ministrations until he heard her breathing change.

"Alex-"

"Shhh."

"Please don’t stop."

"Wasn’t planning to."

Although her body still ached in ways she had never experienced, the aching in her soul overpowered it and when he slid her panties down, she lifted her hips to help him. His nimble fingers found her center at the same time his mouth found hers. He manipulated her center until she was slick with need. His boxers were pushed only far enough to allow his cock to spring free and then he was buried inside her and she was crying out with relief. With her legs around his waist, she surged upward, rising to meet his thrusts. Her nails dug into his arms, his back, and she groaned when he changed his angle and gripped her hip, his fingers biting into her tender skin.

She was almost over the edge when he pulled from her and kissed a path down her belly. He left a hickey on her hip before he lowered his mouth to her center and let his tongue dance against her swollen flesh. Her pain was forgotten as he laved at her clit in that skilled, knowing way that only he could. He knew every inch of her and what it took to drive her insane. When two fingers slid into her and his free hand slipped back up to cup her breast, she felt the first wonderful contractions of her orgasm and tugged his hair.

He gave her less than two seconds to enjoy it. Pulling his hand away, he yanked her legs over his shoulders and slammed into her hard enough to move her several inches up the floor. Her arms went over her head, bracing herself against the wall as he pulled back and did it again. And again. And again. The sounds of flesh against flesh mingled with their mutual cries of pleasure and when Alex pulled back enough to rub his thumb over her clit, her legs stiffened, her back bowed, and she came again, pulling him with her as her inner walls grasped at his cock.

Spent, he collapsed on top of her, kissing her neck, then her mouth as he eased her legs down one at a time. For a while, they simply gazed at one another, their hot breath mingling as their heartbeats finally began to slow. Leaning down, he grazed her mouth with his own and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you," she replied against his mouth before she pushed herself up to capture his lips with hers.

For a while ... that was all that mattered.

"We're okay," Callie said after a while. "Finally."

He rolled onto his side and propped his head up, watching her. "It's about time."

She smiled. "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Let's never get to this point again, Jock Strap. Never."

"We won't." Alex brushed her bangs off her forehead. "I promise."

"And I promise I won't keep *anything* from you again. I'll go ahead and tell you now that I signed up to fly in the summer. It's a charity show and you've got *months* to mentally prepare for that."

"How many months?"

"It's in June."

He sighed. "I promise I'll *try* to not have a heart attack on one condition."

"Just one?"

"It's a big one, Elvira, so get ready for it."

"Oh god."

He held up his hand, where her rings still rested on his pinky. "If you wear these again, I'll deal with this flying thing. I'll show up, I'll clap, I'll remember to breathe when you do some reckless flip and I'll tell everyone within earshot that you're my very talented, very skilled *wife*. But only if you say you won't take them off again."

"That's a pretty good deal. I'd be a fool to not take you up on it." She reached up, letting her thumb trace the diamond butterfly of her engagement ring. "If I wear these again ... that's it for us, Alex. We're in this all the way and we're not gonna hurt each other again. Do you know what I mean?"

He slipped her rings from his finger and reached for her left hand. "I do. Just as much as I did in July, baby, I do. And I'd do it all over again."

They remained on the floor, alternating between making love and apologizing for close to two hours. When they finally showered and got dressed, it was nearly eight thirty in the morning. Alex agreed to cook while Callie readied Goon Docks for the journey home. When he joined her topside with a stack of pancakes, the water was choppy and she was staring into the distance. He turned to see what held her attention and his eyes widened.

"Now *that* is a big boat," he said.

The boat in question was a cruise ship that was breathtaking in sheer size. Goon Docks shifted precariously in the water, rocking from side to side as the mammoth ship sailed past. Alex and Callie both had to look straight up to see the name on the side, The Oceanic Dreamer, and the large waves that she left in her wake when she finally sailed past forced them to sit down fast to keep from losing their balance. The pancakes were less fortunate and they slipped off the plate, landing with a sloppy smack on the white deck.

Alex laughed, but Callie didn’t.

She retrieved her binoculars and studied each of the four levels of the cruise ship. There was no one to be found. She turned the volume up on the radio and switched a few channels, listening intently for signs of life or ... distress.

"What’s wrong?" Alex asked as he speared the last of the pancakes and put them back on the plate.

"Have you ever been on a cruise?"

"Only if you count us sailing back from California."

She studied the ship again through the binoculars. "It’s always so crowded that you feel like you’re suffocating from all the people. Where are the people, Alex?"

"I don’t know." He accepted the binoculars and scanned the ships massive decks. The white flag that was furling in the wind caught his eye and he blinked a couple of times to make sure he was seeing it clearly. He had seen the three stars somewhere else, but he couldn’t place where that had been. He opened his mouth to ask Callie, but she was on the radio again, trying to find the frequency the ship was using.

Callie finally started the engine and turned Goon Docks so that they were following the same path taken by the ocean liner. They were close enough to hear the whirring of the engines and were only a few miles from Neah Bay, where the whaling protest occurred, when the unthinkable happened. The ship was less than a mile away when it listed to one side. Callie, who had been watching it with interest all along, slowly stood.

A split second later, The Oceanic Dreamer was split down the middle by an explosion that was big enough to send Goon Docks onto her side and Alex and Callie backward into the water. She came up sputtering first. "Alex! ALEX!"

"CALLIE!"

She spun in the water, watching him swim toward her. He grabbed her and they both watched as Goon Docks fought to right herself in the enormous waves. "Come on, girl," Callie mumbled, her teeth chattering once again as the yacht was pitched left and right, still on her side.

Billowing black smoke covered the sky and the smell of fuel burning caused them both to cough. "We have to get out of this water," Alex said, feeling his flesh tingling from the cold.

As if Goon Docks heard the urgency in his voice, she finally won her own battle with the water and righted herself, bobbing like a cork. Swimming toward the ladder, Alex let Callie climb up first, then he followed, unable to tear his eyes away from the demolished ship that was close enough to warm the air. Pieces of burning debris rained down on them and he made quick work of ridding the deck of the larger pieces as Callie fumbled with the radio, calling out a ‘may day’ to anyone in the vicinity.

They both had minor burns and scrapes from the debris and when Callie gave up her quest to raise someone on the radio, she turned and examined Alex. He did the same for her, touching the burn on her cheek and pulling off his wet shirt to dab at her bloody nose. "We have to try to help," she said as she used the sleeve of his shirt to staunch a nasty cut on his forehead. "Alex -"

"We can’t get close enough." He looked at the wreckage and shook his head. "How many people sail on those things?"

"Thousands," she replied, not turning to survey the damage for herself. The fact that she had not seen anyone did not erase the fact that it was a *passenger* ship and there were probably children on board somewhere.

The steady thumping of helicopter blades forced them to turn quickly and look at the sky. The coast guard had arrived in full force, flanked by military choppers. Over the sound of the aircraft, Callie heard Goon Dock’s warning siren begin to blare. She raced back to the captain’s chair to check the gauges and said, "She’s taking on water!"

Alex hurried to her side and watched as she frantically flipped switch after switch. "What do we do?"

"Open the bench and take out of the inflatable. The pumps aren’t working."

He did as she requested, pulling the cord to inflate the life raft. He grabbed two life vests and held one out. The sounds were deafening when Callie shook her head. "I need to go to the engine room," she shouted, trying to be heard. "Maybe I can -"

"No!" Alex forced her arms into the lifejacket and fastened the bands on his own. "She’s going down, Callie! We have to jump!"

She stared at the captain’s chair, at the hot tub, at the tattered leather on the benches that had been demolished by the fiery rain and she knew that he was right, but she also knew that abandoning ship was the final act. Goon Docks would be lost to them forever. "I have to *try*."

Alex did something he never thought he’d do.

He picked her up and tossed her over the railing, shoving the raft in behind her. When he jumped a second later, their yacht was much lower in the water than it should have been. He scrambled into the raft and pulled her in behind him. She didn’t protest, but she did bury her face against his neck to keep from watching as Goon Docks was eventually swallowed from their sight.

The fact that news crews had joined in with the other helicopters never dawned on either of them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Is that -"

"Oh my god!" Raphael shot out of the bed and moved closer to the television, unable to believe his eyes. His heart fell to his knees as he watched the aerial footage of the cruise disaster fade to a rescue mission. With a hand over his mouth, he watched Goon Docks sink beneath the water, and Callie’s unmistakable black hair whipping in the wind as she sat huddled with Alex on an orange dingy. "Melana-"

Melana, who was trembling so hard he could barely stand, hurried to Raphael’s side nevertheless. "She’s okay."

They watched, horror struck, as a man was lowered over the small raft with a basket. Callie climbed into it and was slowly lifted from the turbulent waves and then Alex was taken to safety right behind her. The phone rang, causing them both to jump three feet into the air. "Hello?" Melana cried.

"Mel!" Addison replied. "Are you watching the news?"

"I am, honey." Melana looked back at the screen just in time to hear the announcer say that another cruise ship had just exploded off the coast of Florida. "Perhaps you and Mark would like to come here."

"We’re on our way."

Melana hung up without a goodbye and took Raphael’s hand. "Is it like September Eleventh? Is it a terrorist attack?"

Raphael gazed at the screen when the images from the Florida explosion flicked across the screen. There, crudely painted on the back of the burning ship, were three stars, their tips touching.

The Triad had sent a very strong message.

And almost taken his daughter from him.

This, he decided, was war.

*~*~*~*~*~

*sniffle*

Good bye, Goon Docks. We loved you! :(