DISCLAIMER: Watch out, this is femslash (lite). Don't read it if you're not into this sort of thing. I own nothing of Grey's Anatomy. I'm only having fun with the characters I'm fast becoming obsessed with.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm sad over the demise of Hahn/Torres and pissed over the way they dumped Brooke Smith, but the episode "Rise Up" made a certain amount of sense to me, in that we finally got to see the true faces of Erica and Callie. In fact, I applauded Erica's final speech to Callie it was the only thing that felt real since the relationship began and at least now Erica has a chance at finding a woman who will truly love her and not jerk her around while sleeping with a man. This here story? Don't get me wrong, a major character does an awful thing, and if your sensibilities are delicate, you shouldn't read it. But it's not meant to be real (inasmuch as fanfic can be "real"), or to fit in with any of my other Grey's stories, or stories I may still write. It's a one-shot to vent my frustration, is all. Thanks to my Mighty Editor Goddess, Brenda S., and to Jules68. Written in early November, 2008.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Standing on the Threshold
Alone in the new apartment, Callie showered, dried her hair, and donned her favorite black lace bra and panties. At the dresser in her bedroom, she ignored everything on its surface but the cherry lip gloss, which she applied with a remarkably steady hand.
From there, she went to the bed and picked up the letter, already worn from multiple readings.
I wish there was a way we could go back to that night you kissed me in front of the hospital. Those kisses opened my world, and I thought for a while you would be part of my life forever. What happened yesterday changed all that, though it occurred to me as I was driving home that you and I were probably doomed from the start. I'm a lesbian and you are not, and it's funny to me that you'd be the one to bring me out.
I want to believe you when you say you want to be with me, but the truth is I know you're not in it for the long haul. It's like I said, you can't "kind of" be a lesbian. I know this because I know the way I feel. I'm different now, and it's a lock. I'm never going to sleep with a man again.
You might be infatuated with me now, but your claim that you can be "kind of" gay holds no water with me, and I know you would only end up breaking my heart. I'm not going to give you that chance.
As for Stevens, I'll be honest and say I'm not sure if I'm going to report her to UNOS or not, but I do know I can't stay at Seattle Grace. So I'm gone as of right now. Please don't ever try to find me.
I know you won't believe me, but I do love you and I will miss you.
Callie let the paper fall to the floor. She thought of George. She thought of her parents, of George's sweet mom, and of Erica. She thought of all the mistakes she had made in her life, both real and imagined, and wondered if she'd ever be forgiven for them.
Sighing heavily, she turned and walked back to the dresser, picked up the scalpel, and returned to sit on the end of the bed.
Raising her arm, she placed the instrument against the soft flesh of her inner wrist, pierced the skin deeply, and drew the blade straight down to her elbow.
I am standing on the threshold of eternity at last,
As reckless of the future as I have been of the past.
I am void of all ambition, I am dead of every hope.
The coil of life is ended; I am letting go the rope.
--from the poem "On the Threshold." Author Unknown
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