flatline [m.s]

xcvii.

- - -
you know your tailbone? it used to be a tail. that pink part in the corner of your eye? it used to be a third eyelid. the appendix used to help us digest tough foods. now, it does nothing.
- - -

lia and mark are sat at the kitchen counter in callie and arizona's apartment, sipping coffee, as their friends pack up the remainder of their belongings in preparation for their move to africa.

"okay. how about it, mark?" arizona asks, holding up something she's just pulled out of one the kitchen cupboards. "i know you've always wanted one of... these."

mark eyes up the kitchen appliance for a few moments, debating on whether to take it. arizona smiles at him hopefully, whilst lia and callie glare at him from either side.

"nah. i'm good," mark shakes his head, and lia lets out a small sigh of relief. "i will take that waffle iron."

"what?" lia furrows her brow as her voice raises an octave, and callie begins to scowl at mark. "i have never even seen you eat a waffle."

"well, i would if we had a waffle iron," mark retorts.

"okay, callie," arizona chuckles as she takes the waffle iron out of the cupboard. "we're not gonna take a waffle iron to malawi, and it's not gonna do anybody any good sitting in storage for three years."

callie continues to scowl at mark whilst also occasionally turning to scowl at arizona. lia shakes her head, as arizona passes the waffle iron over to mark.

"congratulations!" arizona smiles. "you won yourself a waffle iron. oh! and a french press."

"hey. stop giving... my things away," callie scolds arizona as she hands mark the french press over the counter.

"and you stop taking all of callie's things that we don't need," lia scolds mark as she stands up from the kitchen counter. callie then walks away from the kitchen and into her bedroom, and lia follows, slamming the door behind her when she does so.

"maybe i should pass on the french press," mark smiles, handing it back to arizona who frowns.

in callie's bedroom, lia is sat on the edge of callie's bed, watching as callie begins packing more of her belongings.

"you haven't told him yet, have you?" callie asks lia in a lowered tone, stopping packing to look at her and resting the box she's holding on her dresser. lia simply looks down at her hands in her lap, and shakes her head in response. "lia, it's been two weeks! he's going to start noticing sooner or later!"

"i know," lia groans, her eyes still fixated on her hands.

"have you told anybody else?" callie asks, and again lia shakes her her head. "lia... you have to tell him."

"i know," lia repeats. "i'll tell him. i'll tell him today."

■ ■ ■

"dr. bailey, do you have a second?" mark asks, beginning to walk with her when he catches her as he is leaving his patient's room.

"only if what you have to talk about is more important than my being on time for an autopsy," bailey informs him.

"uh, that's arguable," mark says, nervously scratching his beard. "we're throwing torres and robbins a bon voyage party in the doctors lounge this evening."