didn't mind a lot of holidays of the year, but Christmas always tended to make her kind of sad.

She wasn't really sure why. Maybe the fact that everyone was always so happy and warm and there were all those advertisements about spending time with family. It majorly bummed Daisy out.

It was also always around Christmas time that Daisy and Calypso's fostering placements usually fell through. Not always, but the majority of the time.

Christmas was a pricey ordeal for all families. Nobody wanted to spend a bunch of money on two foster kids that they had no genetic connection with. On the other hand, nobody wanted to look like terrible foster parents who didn't provide Daisy and Calypso with presents. Most people just wanted to spend time with their actual families too, they didn't feel like giving the girls all that extra attention. For that reason, it was usually easier for families to just contact Octavia and ask that their placement be ended.

Daisy hadn't had a good Christmas since Mom and Dad. Last year with the Walters was probably the most nightmarish experience Daisy had ever had.

And their Christmas with the Johnsons had been...nice. That had been the year before the Walters, right after their placement with Mrs. Price. There were loads of presents underneath of the tree when the girls woke up, the living room had looked like a toy factory.

Even as a four-year-old, when Calypso was still going by Violet as opposed to her middle name, she was semi-able to grasp the gravity of their whole fostering situation. She was so convinced that the Johnsons would tell the girls that they were adopting them Christmas morning, and she had convinced Daisy too.

And honestly? Eleven-year-old Daisy wasn't opposed to that idea. Megan and Phillip Johnson were nice people. They were a younger couple, and they genuinely seemed to care for the two sisters

Rather than announcing an adoption to the girls though, there was a pregnancy announcement that morning.

"The ideal mold for our family though is still two kids." Phillip had said as he smiled.

"But...there would be three of us." Daisy had pointed out. She wasn't a math genius, but she had been pretty sure that Daisy plus her little sister plus the baby in Megan's belly equaled three.

"Well..we had been thinking..." Megan had given Daisy a sad smile as she looked over at her husband. "It's not that you're not a lovely girl, Daisy, because you are! But...Violet and this baby would be so much closer in age, and we were just thinking..."

And so began the endless cycle of adopting couples trying to tear Daisy and Calypso apart.

Daisy understood it of course, Calypso was adorable. But she had heard that opening line that always began along the basis of "You're a lovely girl, Daisy" more times than she could count.

Daisy was very much on her guard, trying to tell herself not to be surprised if Octavia appeared at Mark's front door as a result of him calling and telling her to take the girls.

Would Daisy be shattered if they were taken from Mark? Most definitely not.

The worst part would be the packing. It was always awful trying to pack up everything just to lug it to the holding facility. But she definitely wouldn't be heartbroken about leaving this place.

Calypso, on the other hand, made her nervous, and she desperately hoped they wouldn't leave for the girl's sake. Calypso was far too attached, which wasn't out of the ordinary for her. But she knew if the girls had to leave, it would break Calypso's heart.

They were rapidly approaching Christmas Day, and there weren't any telltale signs of the usual "we're letting you back into the system" speech.

Mark was actually letting them decorate, which was farther than they had gotten with other families.

Or...Daisy was doing the decorating. Just putting the ornaments on the tree. Each bulb had to be placed in a very specific place on the tree according to its color, otherwise it would drive Daisy crazy every time she passed and saw the tree in the living room.

Calypso and Mark were sat at the kitchen table with a newspaper spread between them, and Calypso was watching Daisy decorate much similarly to the way a puppy would miserably watch people pass in a pet shop window.

"I want to decorate." Calypso groaned. She was very much over the whole 'newspaper' thing. "Daisy gets to decorate."

"Daisy didn't hit her classmate." Daisy reminded her sister, not caring if she sounded ridiculous speaking in third person. "Daisy also didn't get suspended from her school."

"Daisy." Mark shook his head, knowing that Daisy's comment would frustrate Calypso, who...was already fairly frustrated. He cleared his throat as he turned his attention to her, pointing to the header written in bold on the front page. "Just focus."

"I can't!" Calypso groaned quite excessively, wanting to hole up in her room and cry. Mark and Daisy told her to "just keep practicing", and it frustrated her that neither of them were understanding. Neither of them had to deal with the headache that she experienced when the letters swirled around.

"Seattle." Mark spoke slowly as he pointed to the first word on the newspaper, Calypso groaning. Seattle was far too big a word for her to be able to read even without the letters swirling, she wasn't sure why Mark was choosing to begin with a bigger word.

"Seattle." Calypso mumbled as she repeated what Mark had said. She watched as he pointed to the next word, and she narrowed her eyes to help the letters stop being so jumpy. "M-m...Me-m-s. Er...not m, I meant n. Mens? Seattle...Men?"

Calypso's brain loved to mix up selective lettering. She had the most trouble with m's and w's, n's and u's, b's and d's. A solid portion of the alphabet.

"News. Seattle News." Mark corrected gently, quickly trying to add reaffirmation when Calypso groaned in frustration. "But that's close! News and men are...close?"

Calypso knew he was lying. He was just trying to make her feel better. "News" and "men" had no similarity whatsoever. Calypso felt stupider than ever.

"I quit." Calypso mumbled, placing her head down on the table. "I'll just...I'll just become a doctor like you. I'll just work with patients, and then I'll never ever have to read."

It was very evident that Calypso thought being a doctor was just about talking to patients and bandaging them up. Mark hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he was pretty positive that no one in the history of the world has ever gotten through medical school without reading.

He chose to keep quiet though, knowing Calypso was likely to break down if he said anything of the sorts. He decided to try again as he flipped to the next page. "What about this one?"

Calypso was not having it, though. She really had given up, and Mark didn't know what else to do.

Calypso herself had met with Dr. Sen, not liking the psychiatrist any more than her sister did. Dr. Sen diagnosed her with dyslexia, and Calypso had a headache just thinking about trying to spell the word.

Dr. Sen had told Mark that having her read little bits every day would help. Newspapers, cereal boxes, anything. That wasn't exactly working when the kid wasn't being cooperative.

Calypso popped her head up, watching Daisy wistfully as her sister decorated the Christmas tree. "Can I please go decorate?"

"One more." Mark said as he spotted the next headline he would use, Calypso groaning. "Oh come on, this one isn't even that bad."

Calypso glanced once more at Daisy decorating the tree before sighing, giving in as she focused on the headline Mark was pointing at. All she really wanted to do was decorate with her sister. If she had to stutter her way through some sentences to do that, then she would.

Daisy was at peace decorating. She had developed a whole system and everything; one ornament per every two branches, perfectly spaced and all. She alternated the colors she used, and she was excited that everything was spaced out so perfectly.

There were even sixty ornaments, four boxes of fifteen. Daisy was convinced that had to be a good sign.

Daisy could hear Calypso annunciating the letters that she read in the background, Mark saying something positive every now and then to encourage the girl.

Daisy could also hear the TV in the background, and she turned to the screen as she wondered why the boring droning of newscasters had turned so urgent.

"Oh my god." Daisy spoke quite loudly as she frowned, drawing Mark and Calypso's attention.

Mark stood up from his spot at the table, getting up to get a closer look at the TV screen.

"Oh my god." Mark mirrored Daisy's sentiments exactly, wasting no time in quickly going to his bedroom to get his scrubs.

"What happened?" Calypso asked as she too got up, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

Daisy's eyes raked over the intense flames shown on the screen, the letters written in bold beneath. "The mall, it...there was an explosion."

"An explosion?" Calypso questioned, but Daisy didn't answer. Her eyes were stuck to the screen, in shock that half of Seattle's local mall was burning at a rapid pace, parts of its steel structure exposed as a result of the explosion.

"Mark?" Calypso asked as she saw the man, surprised to see him dressed in his hospital scrubs so quickly. "Um...does this mean I can decorate?"

Mark had no answer for that, though. He didn't even have time for a goodbye or anything as he hastily made his way out the front door, shutting it behind him. His brain was far more trained on the ruthless wave of traumas that would be coming in at the hospital.

He drove down Seattle's streets, three ambulances passing him on the way, which he knew was not a good thing.

Mark pulled into the parking lot in record-timing, hastily making his way down to the emergency room. As could be predicted, the ER was a hellhole.

Patients, doctors, family members. Everyone was panicked, and everyone was moving around in an urgent manner.

"I'm here." Mark spoke as he approached Owen, struggling with the yellow trauma gown he was attempting to pull on. "I'm here, sorry. I saw on the news, the whole-"

"Explosion. Everything just...exploded." Owen sighed, looking stressed beyond belief. He scanned the ER, looking for somewhere that he could possibly put Mark. "Uh...oh. You can help Kepner load in the traumas from outside. We'll be getting...too many more of them."

Mark winced at that, not knowing how the hospital could possibly have the capacity for anymore people. But he nodded nonetheless, making sure to grab a pair of disposable nitrile gloves before heading out to the ambulance bay.

Compared to the ER that had been swarmed with chatter and frantic exclamations and yelling, the ambulance bay was very quiet. As promised, April was already there waiting, fully adorned in her trauma garb as she was clearly ready for an incoming swarm.

"Kepner." Mark regarded the woman, pulling on the gloves as he walked to stand beside her.

April had her arms crossed defensively, her lips stuck in a frown. She looked...tired, exhausted. Her eyes were sluggish as she glanced over at Mark before turning her attention forward again. "Dr. Sloan."

Mark frowned at how icy the woman was. He was used to her endless chattering, he wasn't sure why she was so kept to herself.

"Did you have a rough night?" Mark asked, cocking his head to the side as he surveyed her face. "You look...really bad."

April scoffed as she looked over at him, deciding to shake his comment off. "I just got off a sixteen-hour shift. And...and I was just about to clock out when..."

"The explosion happened." Mark finished April's sentence for her, April nodding in confirmation as she pantomimed an explosion motion with her hands.

"Kaboom." April sighed sadly. "I mean, have you seen it inside? They have so many patients packed in, it's a train wreck waiting to happen."

"Speaking of train wrecks waiting to happen," Mark began, deciding to thumb off to a different topic. "I didn't get an invite to your wedding. I find it offensive that your ex-lover got an invite and I didn't."

April opened her mouth, ready to come up with some excuse to be polite before closing it again, her frown deepening immensely as she took full offense to Mark's comment. "Did...you just call my wedding a train wreck waiting to happen?"

"I thought we were friends, you and me." Mark ignored what April had said. "Kepner and Sloan. Pals, buddies, BFF's-"

"Colleagues." April corrected. "You and I are colleagues, Dr. Sloan. If I were to invite every colleague I had, the entire hospital would be shoved into a wedding venue."

Mark shrugged it off, now able to hear the droning of approaching ambulances in the far distance. "I forgive you. It's okay, I'll be sure to mooch off of Jackson's plus one, and then-"

"Jackson is bringing his girlfriend." April snapped, her hostile tone making it clear that there was some sort of underlying issue.

Mark raised his eyebrows, saying nothing as silence engulfed the pair.

April didn't think twice about what she had said until she looked over and saw the look on Mark's face. "No, not...like that! Jackson is bringing his girlfriend, whom I love, is where I was getting at. Stephanie is just...God, she's so nice, you know? She's so pretty and, and...and smart. I'm really happy for him, Stephanie is perfect, and I-"

"I'm confused." Mark stopped April's frantic rambling. "Are you in love with Avery or Edwards?"

April scoffed, trying to play off just how flustered she was. "You're just as arrogant as him."

"Who?"

"Jackson. You two are both...unbearable." April frowned. "Both of you, and your stupid little 'Plastics Pussies' thing."

"Posse." Mark frowned as he quickly corrected April. "That is wildly inappropriate, Dr. Kepner."

April didn't even bat an eye as she turned her attention forward, silence consuming the two for a mere beat.

"I wonder if that would really work though." Mark spoke wondrously. "I mean...do you ever think there could be such thing as a plastic-"

"Dr. Sloan." April groaned, finding it a bit hypocritical that Mark called her wildly inappropriate as he was about to go on a tangent about plastic...down there. "See, this. This is why you're not invited to my wedding."

Mark frowned, wanting to bite back with a snide remark when the first ambulance turning the corner shut him up.

Everything happened so quickly, everyone in a rush to get everyone out.

The first paramedics opened the door, and Mark's eyes widened.

"Shallow." April shook her head, her eyes not trained on the ambulance but rather fixing her gloves. "You two are so-"

"I think we should page Dr. Shepherd." Mark interrupted, April rolling her eyes as she turned around to face Mark.

"This is the trauma wing, Sloan. I get that you're used to plastics, you're used to barely having to lift the scalpel and making people's faces pretty, but this is trauma. We don't need to page Dr. Shepherd every time there's something scary we don't want to handle and-"

"Kepner." Mark spoke, nodding to the paramedics that were currently unloading the patient. April turned, her eyes having trouble focusing.

The woman on the gurney looked fine, with the exception of the metal spike in her head that was attached to a white mannequin head.

April turned quickly, walking back inside to the ER and shouting for anybody. "Somebody page Shepherd!"

Mark was still stood in awe, watching as the woman blinked normally, as if there wasn't a metal stake driven in her head. He turned to the paramedic cautiously as he spoke quietly. "How is she still...?"

The paramedic shrugged. "Her vitals are...good, they're perfect. The only thing to worry about now is any impending brain damage."

The woman blinked as she looked up at Mark. "You're very pretty to look at."

"I don't think we have to worry about brain damage." Mark spoke, flashing the woman a charming smile. "She seems very aware of her surroundings."

The woman swooned, despite the giant mannequin head she was sporting.

April came back a moment later, grabbing the side of the gurney. "Shepherd's on his way down, we need to move in."

• • • •

Mark's evening consisted primarily of debridement. There were more patients than he could possibly count that had serious burns.

"Sloan."

Mark looked up at Bailey's voice, seeing that the woman was calling him over. She motioned with her finger for him to follow her, Mark handing the tissue forceps off to the nearest intern.

Bailey was already several paces ahead, not bothering to stop for the man to follow. She was plowing through the halls, clearly just wanting to get from Point A to Point B.

Mark wasn't sure why Bailey had led him into the radiology room until he saw the World War III scale battle occurring inside.

Jackson and Cristina were in the midst of a heated battle, a few of the other surgeons—Hunt, Kepner, and Karev—listening to the argument intently.

Both the man and woman turned to look at the door as Bailey and Mark walked in, Jackson looking relieved.

"Tell her, Mark!"

Cristina groaned. "Of course he's gonna back you, he's your bitch!"

Mark frowned at that, ready to argue that Mark Sloan was nobody's bitch. Yet before he had the chance to even open his mouth, Owen beat him to it.

"Woah woah woah," Owen started from where he had been listening to the two pitch their case, trying to facilitate peace between the two surgeons. "Let's not resort to name-calling-"

"He'll agree because I'm right, Cristina." Jackson snapped as he ignored Owen, turning to Mark. "Right?"

"Um...what are we-"

Bailey handed him a picture to fill him in, and then another, both showcasing what looked like charred skin. "19-year-old Courtney Hepburn. She was in the west wing of the mall when it exploded. Fourth degree burns covering 70%."

Mark whistled, taking the pictures from Bailey. "And she's still alive?"

"She won't be if I don't scrub in." Cristina protested. "You people are morons."

Owen sighed at that, really hating how she wouldn't drop it with the names. "Cristina-"

"No, I'm sorry! This...this shouldn't be an argument right now!" Cristina let out a frustrated laugh. "You're so concerned about something that isn't important! It's not-"

"You're saying that this girl having a normal life again isn't important?" Jackson proposed, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Her physical beauty is not as important as her life. What she looks like won't matter if she's stroking out and dead." Cristina pushed back in a more collected tone this time.

The room of doctors was silent for a beat, and Mark was seriously lost.

"I'm gonna need an explanation as a prerequisite." Mark spoke, not sure what Cristina and Jackson were arguing over.

Cristina gave Mark the sharpest look with her eyes, kind of sort of terrifying him. "Jackson wants to try to save her skin. Despite the fact that it's not viable to save-"