The Seven Letter Word, Part Two
The Seven Letter Word, Part Two
Arizona stared at the hotel room.
It was strange to be in Seattle. To be in the place she called home. It was strange to be in the place that was home but felt so foreign.
How long had she been gone? She couldn’t recall.
Sighing, Arizona walked further into the room; awkwardly wheeling in her suitcase. She kicked the door closed and, if it were possible, the room became even quieter.
She let go of the suitcase handle, trudging across the room until she collapsed on the bed. She groaned towards the ceiling, pain shooting through her shoulder and her hand at being jerked.
Right. She had to have surgery.
Despite the severity of her situation she kept forgetting she even had a problem to begin.
How had she gotten here?
How had this become her life?
A hotel room down the street from the hospital she had once worked. From the woman she once…still loved. The woman she now didn’t know how to face. The woman she couldn’t even think of words to say to..
They had stayed in the room after Mark had left for Arizona didn’t know how long. Calliope had rocked her, letting her tears fall, as she calmed her. It was as if they hadn’t parted. As if Arizona hadn’t flown across the globe. And yet nothing was the same. They had parted. It was different.
When Arizona’s tears finally subsided they had simply stayed there. Holding one another. Their bodies had been wrought with tension and their breathing had been labored. Arizona had been consumed with everything about the woman holding her. The way she smelled, the way she felt, her soft (yet drastically short) hair falling through her fingers.
Different.
And then Callie’s pager had sounded and she had jumped away, stumbling through the door without so much of a backwards glance.
Reality.
Arizona puffed out her cheeks and looked to the left, a window to the outside world. Just on the horizon she could see the hospital.
Even being there felt odd, foreign. Her time in Africa was done, she was back, and yet as what? A patient.
The Chief had approached her as she was leaving, offering her a consulting position. She would work and as she recovered she would be able to take on more. She had accepted, though she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She needed a job, to work, to find a new apartment, to buy a new car. But to be a doctor and not be a surgeon? It was almost unthinkable.
But she had accepted. Because getting back to before meant starting somewhere.
Even if she didn’t quite know where that somewhere was.
And being back at the hospital did mean being next to Calliope once more.
She didn’t know what to say to the woman. Or how to say it once she figured out what it was. What did one say to the love who hurt you and who you hurt in return?
They had been here once before and Arizona had promised herself never to return. And now they had. How was it that fate had lead them here?
There would be no tragedy like last time to lead them back together, or so she hoped.
Working together was, perhaps, their only saving grace.
Baby steps.
A knock on the door startled Arizona from her thoughts and she nearly fell off the bed. With confusion tracing her features she rose and walked to the door. Peering through the peephole Arizona felt a semblance of normality flowing through her veins.
“How did you know I was staying here?” she asked as she opened the door.
Teddy smiled wryly, the corner of her lips almost pulling to a smirk. “You do realize where we work, right?” Sshe asked as she pushed past Arizona and into the room.
The door clicked shut and Arizona watched as Teddy took in her current living quarters. She turned, looked at Arizona to her sling and back to her face.
“I brought beer,” Teddy said, holding up a six-pack of Arizona’s favorite.
Arizona smiled. God, she loved her best friend.
It was nice to know that not everything had changed.
And that alone was enough to give Arizona hope.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Callie Torres regretted it.
She regretted it a lot.
Just like she knew she would.
It was bad.
Just like Arizona had said it would be.
Currently living with Arizona Robbins was nothing short of complex mess.
They did nothing but exist around one another. They didn’t speak. They could barely make eye contact. Callie would come home to see Arizona reading on the couch and they would share an awkward gaze before Callie would retreat to her bedroom and stay there until she heard Arizona retreat to hers. Callie would go to Joe’s with Mark and see Arizona there with Teddy. They would return at the same time of night and awkwardly try to squeeze through the door without the other noticing.
It was nothing and everything at once.
And yet, Callie would wake in the morning to freshly brewed cup of coffee, perfectly made, waiting for her on the counter.
And yet, Callie always made sure that, when she had the time to cook, there was always enough food for two.
When Arizona had trouble using her left hand, Callie would complete the task for her.
When Callie came home, exhausted from a thirty-two hours at the hospital she found the entire apartment cleaned and her laundry folded.
It was existing without knowing how.
Callie sighed as she unlocked the apartment door. She paused, taking in another deep breath before she slowly walked in. The room was dark except for the table lamp in the far corner. Arizona was no where to be found. She wondered if, perhaps, the blonde was out with Teddy.
And then she smelled.
The dark, musky, horribly familiar scent. One she despised above almost all others.
The faint smell of smoke.
Not needing to know where it was coming from, Callie followed her nose to Cristina’s old room. She pushed open the door to see Arizona leaning halfway out the window; taking a long drag from a cigarette.
“What are you doing?”
Arizona jumped at the sound of Callie’s voice, falling into a loud coughing fit. The cigarette fell from her hand and onto the street below.
When her coughing subsided, Arizona turned to her with wide blue eyes. “I made sure I kept it outside.”
Callie shook her head. “You told me you quit.”
Arizona sighed, running her good hand through her hair. “Callie…”
“You did.”
“It’s not like it’s a habit, you know that.”
“You told me I quit.”
Arizona huffed. “So I started again.”
“Why?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Why won’t you answer the question?”
“Why are you being so insistent?”
Callie shook her head, finally dropping her purse in the bedroom doorway. “I’m not playing this game with you.”
“You think I’m playing a game?” Arizona asked, her voice taking the tone of affronted.
“It’s a simple question, Arizona.”
It was weird to be talking once again. And yet horribly familiar. It was, Callie knew, a testament to who they were. They barely spoke yet in the few times that they had conversation came easy. It was almost as if things hadn’t changed. Almost.
If you didn’t count the tension in their shoulders and their tones that quickly became agitated.
Arizona opened her mouth to reply, shook her head, and looked to the floor. Sighing, she replied: “Africa.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” Arizona asked, rubbing her face in exasperation.
“Why did you start again?”
The corner of Arizona’s mouth turned up in a small, wry smile. “Why do you think?”
Callie felt heat run up her neck and she looked to the floor. They awkwardly stood together, both looking anywhere but the other. “Well you
should stop.”
Arizona laughed quietly, humorlessly. “Until I find my own place, I think it’s going to be my only saving grace.”
Callie’s head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Arizona shook her head again. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do,” Callie said, feeling a wall building itself in her chest.
“You do realize that I’ve lived here for two weeks and the first words you’ve chosen to speak to me are about my bad habits.”
“You haven’t spoken to me either.” It was a playground response, but it was the best Callie could come up with.
And it wasn’t like it was true.
“You’re the one that invited me to stay.”
“So that means I have to take all steps forward?”
With each word their voices were becoming more tense; clipped. Callie felt something in her stirring, rising, building in her blood. Their
break-up in the airport. The months without Arizona. Her quick and tragic return. Their living situation. The Latina suddenly realized just how big a toll it had been taking on her and now that she felt its weight she wanted it gone.
Arizona sighed and shook her head. “It’s late. We should talk about this some other time,” she said, closing the window.
Callie snorted. “Yes, avoid the subject. You’re good at doing that.”
Arizona turned on her faster than Callie had ever seen the blonde move. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Callie shrugged, trying to be the picture perfect of nonchalance; though deep down she felt her entire core beginning to shake. “Just what it is. We’ve been avoiding one another and we’re finally talking and you just---want to stop. Turn away, avoid it. It’s like you don’t even want to try.”
Ever since they had started dating Callie could read Arizona like a book. The blonde’s blue eyes were more expressive than any she had ever seen. And time apart hadn’t ruined her skills at it. The minute the words had left Callie’s mouth she saw something break in Arizona’s blue orbs, replaced with a fiery anger she had only seen a handful of times.
“You think I don’t try?” Arizona asked, her voice deadly level. “Wasn’t it me who agreed to change my visions of the future I had? Wasn’t I the one who agreed to get along with your ass of a best friend even though I’d rather not touch him with a ten-foot pole? I’ve tried Callie, I’ve tried a hell of a lot harder then you have.”
Callie released a steady breath. She could feel it building, a hot passion that was reserved only for Arizona. A passion that was quickly manifesting itself in anger. “I tried to be happy changing my life when I was being forced to move to another continent.”
Arizona’s jaw dropped, “Forced?” She asked, taking a slow step forward. “Forced? I never forced you to do anything, Callie. It was your idea. You wanted to come with, I never forced anything on you. I thought you were coming because you wanted to. It’s not my fault you had to be bitchy about it.”
“It may have been my idea but I didn’t see you coming up with any better ones. You wouldn’t even talk about it.”
“Because I was scared!” Arizona all but yelled, her eyes wide and her breathing hard. Her mouth immediately fell shut and she shook her head, slowly she moved to the edge of the bed, burying her face in her left hand.
Callie stood, completely still; her mind buzzing. She tried to remember how they had gotten here, but she could barely remember walking through the apartment door. Their lives had changed so fast, the day Arizona had learned she received the grant. Callie had seen her happy, she had seen her frustrated when they argued, sad when she came home that night.
But scared?
Never scared.
Callie had only ever seen Arizona scared once before. And a man had been standing in a doorway holding a gun.
“You were what?”
Arizona sniffled and it was only then that Callie realized angry tears had welled in both their eyes. “I was scared,” she said again, rubbing her eyes once more. “I was so happy and I had hoped you would be too. Happy and proud. But you were so---not. And I didn’t know what to do. And then you suggested the idea of coming with and I took it, because I didn’t know what else to say. And I was scared that if I opened my mouth to suggest anything else that would be it. That we would be done,” she rambled, like she always did and if Callie hadn’t been so riled she would have found it endearing as ever.
Arizona snorted a dry, ironic laugh escaping her lips. “And look where that got us.”
Callie sighed, feeling her anger dissipate. She wondered how they, two people who worked so well together as a unit, could be so awful at communicating. She rubbed the back of her neck and slowly walked to the bed. “I was scared too,” she said, slowly sitting down.
They were close. Platonically so. And it was painful.
“You’ve even said yourself, you don’t believe in long distance relationships. You thought I wasn’t proud of you and…if I didn’t go…” Callie trailed off, looking at the wall across from them. “I was scared too.”
Arizona sat up straighter, her gaze matching Callie’s long distance to the wall. “We’re quite the pair.”
Callie chuckled quietly. “So people say.”
Arizona laughed again, this time the sound almost joyful. It was a sound Callie had missed.
“I was proud, you know,” Callie continued on. “I am proud of you. Even if I never said it…I’m…so incredibly proud.”
“I know,” Arizona replied. “Deep down, I always knew.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.”
Silence settled over them as they both continued to stare at the wall. On the bed, their hands rested close, their pinkies almost touching.
There was so much that they had said. So much more that they needed to say. Their argument tonight wasn’t a fix. And there was no telling when or what would lead them to it.
But for now…
It was enough.
Fin
Arizona stared at the hotel room.
It was strange to be in Seattle. To be in the place she called home. It was strange to be in the place that was home but felt so foreign.
How long had she been gone? She couldn’t recall.
Sighing, Arizona walked further into the room; awkwardly wheeling in her suitcase. She kicked the door closed and, if it were possible, the room became even quieter.
She let go of the suitcase handle, trudging across the room until she collapsed on the bed. She groaned towards the ceiling, pain shooting through her shoulder and her hand at being jerked.
Right. She had to have surgery.
Despite the severity of her situation she kept forgetting she even had a problem to begin.
How had she gotten here?
How had this become her life?
A hotel room down the street from the hospital she had once worked. From the woman she once…still loved. The woman she now didn’t know how to face. The woman she couldn’t even think of words to say to..
They had stayed in the room after Mark had left for Arizona didn’t know how long. Calliope had rocked her, letting her tears fall, as she calmed her. It was as if they hadn’t parted. As if Arizona hadn’t flown across the globe. And yet nothing was the same. They had parted. It was different.
When Arizona’s tears finally subsided they had simply stayed there. Holding one another. Their bodies had been wrought with tension and their breathing had been labored. Arizona had been consumed with everything about the woman holding her. The way she smelled, the way she felt, her soft (yet drastically short) hair falling through her fingers.
Different.
And then Callie’s pager had sounded and she had jumped away, stumbling through the door without so much of a backwards glance.
Reality.
Arizona puffed out her cheeks and looked to the left, a window to the outside world. Just on the horizon she could see the hospital.
Even being there felt odd, foreign. Her time in Africa was done, she was back, and yet as what? A patient.
The Chief had approached her as she was leaving, offering her a consulting position. She would work and as she recovered she would be able to take on more. She had accepted, though she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She needed a job, to work, to find a new apartment, to buy a new car. But to be a doctor and not be a surgeon? It was almost unthinkable.
But she had accepted. Because getting back to before meant starting somewhere.
Even if she didn’t quite know where that somewhere was.
And being back at the hospital did mean being next to Calliope once more.
She didn’t know what to say to the woman. Or how to say it once she figured out what it was. What did one say to the love who hurt you and who you hurt in return?
They had been here once before and Arizona had promised herself never to return. And now they had. How was it that fate had lead them here?
There would be no tragedy like last time to lead them back together, or so she hoped.
Working together was, perhaps, their only saving grace.
Baby steps.
A knock on the door startled Arizona from her thoughts and she nearly fell off the bed. With confusion tracing her features she rose and walked to the door. Peering through the peephole Arizona felt a semblance of normality flowing through her veins.
“How did you know I was staying here?” she asked as she opened the door.
Teddy smiled wryly, the corner of her lips almost pulling to a smirk. “You do realize where we work, right?” Sshe asked as she pushed past Arizona and into the room.
The door clicked shut and Arizona watched as Teddy took in her current living quarters. She turned, looked at Arizona to her sling and back to her face.
“I brought beer,” Teddy said, holding up a six-pack of Arizona’s favorite.
Arizona smiled. God, she loved her best friend.
It was nice to know that not everything had changed.
And that alone was enough to give Arizona hope.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Callie Torres regretted it.
She regretted it a lot.
Just like she knew she would.
It was bad.
Just like Arizona had said it would be.
Currently living with Arizona Robbins was nothing short of complex mess.
They did nothing but exist around one another. They didn’t speak. They could barely make eye contact. Callie would come home to see Arizona reading on the couch and they would share an awkward gaze before Callie would retreat to her bedroom and stay there until she heard Arizona retreat to hers. Callie would go to Joe’s with Mark and see Arizona there with Teddy. They would return at the same time of night and awkwardly try to squeeze through the door without the other noticing.
It was nothing and everything at once.
And yet, Callie would wake in the morning to freshly brewed cup of coffee, perfectly made, waiting for her on the counter.
And yet, Callie always made sure that, when she had the time to cook, there was always enough food for two.
When Arizona had trouble using her left hand, Callie would complete the task for her.
When Callie came home, exhausted from a thirty-two hours at the hospital she found the entire apartment cleaned and her laundry folded.
It was existing without knowing how.
Callie sighed as she unlocked the apartment door. She paused, taking in another deep breath before she slowly walked in. The room was dark except for the table lamp in the far corner. Arizona was no where to be found. She wondered if, perhaps, the blonde was out with Teddy.
And then she smelled.
The dark, musky, horribly familiar scent. One she despised above almost all others.
The faint smell of smoke.
Not needing to know where it was coming from, Callie followed her nose to Cristina’s old room. She pushed open the door to see Arizona leaning halfway out the window; taking a long drag from a cigarette.
“What are you doing?”
Arizona jumped at the sound of Callie’s voice, falling into a loud coughing fit. The cigarette fell from her hand and onto the street below.
When her coughing subsided, Arizona turned to her with wide blue eyes. “I made sure I kept it outside.”
Callie shook her head. “You told me you quit.”
Arizona sighed, running her good hand through her hair. “Callie…”
“You did.”
“It’s not like it’s a habit, you know that.”
“You told me I quit.”
Arizona huffed. “So I started again.”
“Why?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Why won’t you answer the question?”
“Why are you being so insistent?”
Callie shook her head, finally dropping her purse in the bedroom doorway. “I’m not playing this game with you.”
“You think I’m playing a game?” Arizona asked, her voice taking the tone of affronted.
“It’s a simple question, Arizona.”
It was weird to be talking once again. And yet horribly familiar. It was, Callie knew, a testament to who they were. They barely spoke yet in the few times that they had conversation came easy. It was almost as if things hadn’t changed. Almost.
If you didn’t count the tension in their shoulders and their tones that quickly became agitated.
Arizona opened her mouth to reply, shook her head, and looked to the floor. Sighing, she replied: “Africa.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” Arizona asked, rubbing her face in exasperation.
“Why did you start again?”
The corner of Arizona’s mouth turned up in a small, wry smile. “Why do you think?”
Callie felt heat run up her neck and she looked to the floor. They awkwardly stood together, both looking anywhere but the other. “Well you
should stop.”
Arizona laughed quietly, humorlessly. “Until I find my own place, I think it’s going to be my only saving grace.”
Callie’s head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Arizona shook her head again. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do,” Callie said, feeling a wall building itself in her chest.
“You do realize that I’ve lived here for two weeks and the first words you’ve chosen to speak to me are about my bad habits.”
“You haven’t spoken to me either.” It was a playground response, but it was the best Callie could come up with.
And it wasn’t like it was true.
“You’re the one that invited me to stay.”
“So that means I have to take all steps forward?”
With each word their voices were becoming more tense; clipped. Callie felt something in her stirring, rising, building in her blood. Their
break-up in the airport. The months without Arizona. Her quick and tragic return. Their living situation. The Latina suddenly realized just how big a toll it had been taking on her and now that she felt its weight she wanted it gone.
Arizona sighed and shook her head. “It’s late. We should talk about this some other time,” she said, closing the window.
Callie snorted. “Yes, avoid the subject. You’re good at doing that.”
Arizona turned on her faster than Callie had ever seen the blonde move. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Callie shrugged, trying to be the picture perfect of nonchalance; though deep down she felt her entire core beginning to shake. “Just what it is. We’ve been avoiding one another and we’re finally talking and you just---want to stop. Turn away, avoid it. It’s like you don’t even want to try.”
Ever since they had started dating Callie could read Arizona like a book. The blonde’s blue eyes were more expressive than any she had ever seen. And time apart hadn’t ruined her skills at it. The minute the words had left Callie’s mouth she saw something break in Arizona’s blue orbs, replaced with a fiery anger she had only seen a handful of times.
“You think I don’t try?” Arizona asked, her voice deadly level. “Wasn’t it me who agreed to change my visions of the future I had? Wasn’t I the one who agreed to get along with your ass of a best friend even though I’d rather not touch him with a ten-foot pole? I’ve tried Callie, I’ve tried a hell of a lot harder then you have.”
Callie released a steady breath. She could feel it building, a hot passion that was reserved only for Arizona. A passion that was quickly manifesting itself in anger. “I tried to be happy changing my life when I was being forced to move to another continent.”
Arizona’s jaw dropped, “Forced?” She asked, taking a slow step forward. “Forced? I never forced you to do anything, Callie. It was your idea. You wanted to come with, I never forced anything on you. I thought you were coming because you wanted to. It’s not my fault you had to be bitchy about it.”
“It may have been my idea but I didn’t see you coming up with any better ones. You wouldn’t even talk about it.”
“Because I was scared!” Arizona all but yelled, her eyes wide and her breathing hard. Her mouth immediately fell shut and she shook her head, slowly she moved to the edge of the bed, burying her face in her left hand.
Callie stood, completely still; her mind buzzing. She tried to remember how they had gotten here, but she could barely remember walking through the apartment door. Their lives had changed so fast, the day Arizona had learned she received the grant. Callie had seen her happy, she had seen her frustrated when they argued, sad when she came home that night.
But scared?
Never scared.
Callie had only ever seen Arizona scared once before. And a man had been standing in a doorway holding a gun.
“You were what?”
Arizona sniffled and it was only then that Callie realized angry tears had welled in both their eyes. “I was scared,” she said again, rubbing her eyes once more. “I was so happy and I had hoped you would be too. Happy and proud. But you were so---not. And I didn’t know what to do. And then you suggested the idea of coming with and I took it, because I didn’t know what else to say. And I was scared that if I opened my mouth to suggest anything else that would be it. That we would be done,” she rambled, like she always did and if Callie hadn’t been so riled she would have found it endearing as ever.
Arizona snorted a dry, ironic laugh escaping her lips. “And look where that got us.”
Callie sighed, feeling her anger dissipate. She wondered how they, two people who worked so well together as a unit, could be so awful at communicating. She rubbed the back of her neck and slowly walked to the bed. “I was scared too,” she said, slowly sitting down.
They were close. Platonically so. And it was painful.
“You’ve even said yourself, you don’t believe in long distance relationships. You thought I wasn’t proud of you and…if I didn’t go…” Callie trailed off, looking at the wall across from them. “I was scared too.”
Arizona sat up straighter, her gaze matching Callie’s long distance to the wall. “We’re quite the pair.”
Callie chuckled quietly. “So people say.”
Arizona laughed again, this time the sound almost joyful. It was a sound Callie had missed.
“I was proud, you know,” Callie continued on. “I am proud of you. Even if I never said it…I’m…so incredibly proud.”
“I know,” Arizona replied. “Deep down, I always knew.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.”
Silence settled over them as they both continued to stare at the wall. On the bed, their hands rested close, their pinkies almost touching.
There was so much that they had said. So much more that they needed to say. Their argument tonight wasn’t a fix. And there was no telling when or what would lead them to it.
But for now…
It was enough.
Fin