Fanfic: Made For You (1/?)

[elpmas03]

Title:  Made For You (1/?)

Author: elpmas03

Rating: R (NC17 for future chapters)

Pairing: Callie/Arizona

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Summary: I can’t help it with the dark and twisty. I don’t want to give away too much in the summary, but this is a very angst-filled fic (for now, at least). Enjoy.


Callie

If it wasn’t for Joe’s stares of concern that keep shooting in my direction, I would confess that I’m alone. Not just at this moment, while I sit on the familiar bar stool I’ve occupied consistently for the past months. I mean emotionally alone, too. I remember when I broke my arm when I was ten years old and I told myself that it was the most painful experience I would ever have in my life.  Kids are stupid. Kids don’t know about love. Or the loss of love.

That’s been the theme for my life recently; it seems that nothing I do can get rid of this gaping hole in my chest that appeared when it all ended. More accurately…when I ended it…

5 months ago….

It was another one of those days. The kind where you wake up with a smile on your face, drink a fresh cup of coffee, and head to work, ready to save lives. And then something happens. Not something life-altering or normally important. Key word being “normally”. But that’s not something I’ve been since the day my dad died. The day that I got the phone call from my sobbing mother explaining to me how he had been rushed to the hospital after his car and body were mangled by a drunk driver. The day his heart stopped beating. The day I went from being Callie Torres to being an empty shell of a person.

Yes, it was another one of those days where I broke down for no apparent reason. And it was because of pudding. They didn’t have chocolate pudding in the cafeteria and for some reason, unknown to any sane person, I freaked out.

“Callie, relax. It’s just pudding,” Mark’s calm and playful voice tries to coax me back into the land of the normal.

“No! It’s not just pudding,” I hiss, slamming my lunch tray onto the cafeteria table which, of course, causes 90% of the people surrounding us to glance over curiously. I don’t care, though. I don’t really care about anything anymore. The only thing I care about in this moment is the memory of how my father’s favorite food in the world was chocolate pudding and this fucking hospital doesn’t have any.

“Okay, sorry,” he whispers and holds his hands up in surrender.

I feel the guilt making my heart swell with shame, but I don’t apologize. Instead, I huff and puff like a spoiled kid and choose to channel my anger through my fork and onto my innocent salad. I hate salad.

“Screw this,” I mumble, throwing the contents of my lunch onto my tray and standing up abruptly. Mark glances up and I can almost see him debating internally whether or not he should ask.

“Where are you going?” he finally mutters when he gains the courage to face what I might throw at him.

Instead of answering I grab the tray and dump the food in the trash, pulling my phone out and sending a feverish text on my way to an open on-call room

**************************************************************

“Hey, what’s-“

Arizona’s greeting is hushed when my lips push against hers violently and my hands grasp her shoulders and slam her into the closed door hard.

“Ow, Callie, what the hell!” she groans in pain, but I ignore it and push my body against hers with as much force as I can gather.

My lips find hers again and I ease her hesitation when my tongue darts into her mouth and slides against hers. Despite my aggressive behavior, she can’t resist the overload of senses I’m creating from her head to her toes; my hands are clawing at her back, lips are pushing against her own so hard that she can’t breathe, and hips are thrusting hungrily, rocking our bodies back and forth against the wall. As soon as my hand slides under her scrub pants without warning, she reaches down and yanks it away by my wrist. It takes all of her strength to push my lips away and make me stop.

“Callie, Callie, wait…just…wait,” she pants, trying to get the oxygen back into her lungs as quickly as possible while I kiss down her neck instead. “What’s wrong?”

“Augh,” I groan in frustration and push myself away from her, flopping down on one of the beds as soon as I’m close enough.

Why does she always think something is wrong with me? I’m sick of being treated like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode if she makes one tiny, incorrect movement. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to be emotional. And I most definitely don’t want to admit that something is in fact wrong. Because that’s how I deal with things now. I’ve always been the girl who wears her emotions on the outside, never afraid to let others in. But when my dad died…it changed me and that girl isn’t here anymore.

She stays silent while her heart beat slows down back to normal and I continue to stare at the ceiling, trying so hard not to flip out on her for the hundredth time this week.

“Nothing. Is wrong,” I reply through gritted teeth. I know she can tell I’m lying…she always can.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks sheepishly, her head recoiling when I shoot upright and look at her in bewilderment.

“No, Arizona, I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t want to talk about any-“

“Well, I’m not going any further until you do. I’m sick of having sex just so you have an excuse not to feel anything, Calliope. It’s not healthy or fair to either of us!” she responds and for the first time in a while I can see the anger and frustration in her eyes.

“Whatever,” I exhale, flopping back down on the bed and bringing my arm up to lie across my eyes.

A few moments of silence pass before I feel the bed shift under her weight as she sits down next to me. I can tell she’s hesitating, not knowing how to handle me right now. When I feel her hand start to stroke my leg comfortingly, it sets me off. The tears start to flow without inhibition, running down my cheeks until I can’t control myself anymore and begin to sob into my hands that are cupping my face. Her hands quickly wrap around my wrists and pull me up into a sitting position so she can squeeze me as hard as possible and whisper comfort in my ear. When I’m able to catch my breath and speak, I pull back from where my head is resting on her shoulder and look at her with as much hurt as possible.

“Please,” I beg, feeling her fingers wipe away the last of the tears from my face. “I just…need you…please.”

She takes a few seconds to take in my expression; I think her pity and guilt, more than anything, allows her to give in. With a sharp, reluctant nod, she moves forward and presses her lips to mine. It starts as a delicate kiss, but I don’t waste any time before forcing it down the path of need and intense lust. I know it’s killing her to see the pain in my eyes and I know I shouldn’t be faking it to get her to give me what I want, but it’s the only option I have right now. She pushes me back and moves so she’s straddling me now, looking at me as if she’s trying to find the answers to some unspoken questions that are clawing away inside of her. I ignore it and pull her down by the neck until our lips are crashing together again.

The sound of her pager beeping makes my skin crawl. This is how it’s been lately, ever since she started this new, ground-breaking clinical trial not too long before my dad passed away. It’s been months of her not being there when I need her. I know that if it hadn’t been for my dad’s death, it wouldn’t be a big deal to me. But my constant vulnerability has been nagging away at who I am and she’s the only one who can get rid of it. And yet, there’s always a reason for her not to.

“Crap,” she groans when she looks at the message on her pager. “911.”

Without waiting for her to crawl off of me, I flip over onto my side and lay my head on both of my hands, waiting to hear that familiar sound of the door shutting behind her. I don’t have to look back to know she’s shocked and hurt by my movement.

“Callie…I’m sorry,” she whispers and I know she means it. It doesn’t mean I have to be okay with it.

“Just…go. It’s fine,” I reply, wiping away a silent tear that’s trickling down my cheek.

She leans over and kisses me on the cheek, lingering her lips around my ear so she can whisper that she loves me. When I don’t respond after a few seconds, I think I can hear the whimper of pain quietly escape her throat before she tries to play it off as a cough. She rolls off of the bed and opens the door, clicking it shut quietly behind her and leaving me to break down once again…alone.

*******************************************************

The next day feels just as empty as the rest. As I lay here in another on-call room by myself, I let my mind wander into those dark places that I’ve been traveling to these past 3 months. Before I can help it, the tears are streaming again and I’m whimpering quietly into the pillow beside me.

“Dr. Torres?” a quiet, but confident voice causes me to jerk my head to the door and I cringe when I realize how pitiful I must look.

Long before Arizona showed up, Michelle was one of those people that were “lining up for me”. She was sweet, a little too confident, and overly flirtatious, taking every opportunity she had to comment on my outfit or my hair.  If Erica hadn’t left me so broken, I probably would’ve taken Michelle up on the not-so-subtle hints she kept throwing my way that she would like to get to know me a little better…a little more…intimate. The flirting didn’t stop even when Arizona showed up and swept me away, but I always made it clear that I wasn’t interested. Somehow, it seemed to provoke her even more, but she never acted on it; there was never anything more than the obvious flirty stares and “accidental” skin-on-skin contact.

I sit up and wipe away the stray liquid from my face, putting on the best ‘I’m okay…I wasn’t just sobbing into a pillow’ look I can come up with.

“Are you okay?” she asks sheepishly, somewhat out of character from her usual assertive self.

“Uh, yeah, I’m…fine,” I laugh, knowing I can’t pull any damage control this time.

“You don’t seem…fine,” she laughs back and shuts the door behind her. “Is there anything I can do?”

I know what she means and it has nothing to do with a simple, friendly hug. All I can do is stare at her; the way her bright blue eyes flicker with a hint of lust and desire as she looks at me from head to toe. It reminds me of Arizona.

“Uh, no…I think I’m…good, thanks,” I mumble a reply, searching around the room for something to focus on so I don’t have to look at her.

She moves forward with the swagger in her step that I recognize as her usual motion. I shift uncomfortably when she sits down next to me, a little too close for a friendly chat. Her exposed arm brushes against mine and sends shivers through my body and all I can do is inch a little further away and gulp audibly when she closes the gap between us again.

“I heard about your dad,” she says out of nowhere. “I’m sorry…I heard you two were close?”

The pain in my eyes is the only answer she needs. I find myself playing with my fingers in my lap, trying to distract myself from the smell of her perfume and the way she’s talking to me as if she cares. As if she’s not going to be paged away and leave me here to break down by myself.

“My mom died…when I was little…around 9,” she whispers and I can sense the tiniest hint of hurt in her confession. “It was really hard…I couldn’t imagine losing her as an adult.”

For a split second I get the notion that she’s not here to hit on me or take advantage of me; her words give me reassurance that I’m not alone right now. But when her hand starts to slide from my knee to my upper thigh, I fall back to the image of her usual self. Every part of me is screaming to make her stop; to tell her that I’m not looking for this…not with her, at least. But for some reason…I can’t. Having someone here who seems like she cares and wants to comfort me without asking questions is all that I’ve been craving…it’s what I’ve been needing for the past months and I can’t seem to push that away.

All I can think about is how soft and comforting her lips are as they push hungrily onto mine.  For the first time in a while, I don’t feel like an escaped mental patient who needs to be taken care of as if I’ll break any second.  So, no…I don’t stop her. I don’t stop her lips from kissing down my neck, or her cold hands from running down my arms and stomach, or her fingers from pushing inside of me. Because it’s just about sex…there is no talking, no feelings, no connection. It’s just panting and writhing and getting that shuddering release without having to worry about being grilled with questions afterwards.

So, when the tears start to quietly overflow from my eyes and she doesn’t say anything, I can’t help the brief relief that washes over me. For the first time in a while, I don’t feel anything.

***************************************************

As if I couldn’t be hurting enough, the guilt from what I did a few weeks ago has been pulsing inside of me. Every time Arizona touches me or looks at me, I feel myself cringe inside from what I did. Knowing that she’s not the last person who has touched me in those places recently. Sometimes I feel physically nauseated and have to stop; I make up some lame excuse that I’m tired or that I’m just not in the mood, but I think she knows something is up.

The worst part of all of it was when I told Mark. He looked at me like he didn’t know who I was anymore; like I had hurt him. He hasn’t been able to look me in the eyes since, especially when Arizona and I are both around him. He sees how happy she is and immediately thinks about what I did; it turns his eyes dark and his words cold. Knowing that I’ve disappointed the people I love has been eating away at me. It’s why I’m here, in my apartment, sitting in the silence, waiting for her to come home so I can tell her.

When the door does finally open and I continue to stare off into space, she can tell something is wrong.

“Callie?” she whispers, setting her keys and jacket down on the table and walking over to sit next to me on the couch.

Her voice snaps me out of my gaze, but I continue to look away from her.

“Are you okay?” she asks hesitantly, knowing that I might freak out from the question again.

The tears are forming in my eyes again and I hit myself on the inside for doing this. I promised myself I wouldn’t break down for this…I don’t deserve the right to break down…not after what I did to her.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she whispers in my ear and hugs me when the tears run down my cheeks. “Talk to me.”

I take a few prolonged seconds to look down at the floor when she pulls away before forcing myself to look up into her patient eyes.

“I slept with someone,” I whisper in an emotionless tone.

The second the words leave my lips, I feel like I’m watching her entire world crash down before her. The look of pain and shock and betrayal is something I’ve never seen in her and I can’t comprehend how I could willingly be the reason for it. She stays glued to where she is and the silence is killing me. She removes her arms from around me and props her body up on them on the edge of the couch. Taking a few deep breaths while she looks at her feet, I can tell she’s trying so hard not to show her pain. When she can’t control it anymore and the tears start to fall, she looks away from me towards the door and sniffles to herself.

“I am so sorry,” I whimper, knowing it doesn’t mean anything.

She wipes the tears away and looks back to me, turning her body to face me. She clears her throat a few times before speaking.

“It’s okay.”

Her words shock me and I automatically go back to the same words I muttered to George when he told me about him and Izzie. But, this time I know…she doesn’t mean it.

“With everything with your dad and me not being here…I get it and I’m not saying it’s okay,” she closes her eyes to regain some of her composure before continuing. “But…I get it…and…I forgive-“

“Arizona, wait, don’t…you don’t mean that,” I interrupt her and gain a look of shock and confusion for my words.

I can’t believe the words that are about to come out of my mouth, but I know it’s the only way for this to stop.

“And even if you did…I…don’t want you to.”

She doesn’t know what I’m trying to say or how to respond, so she ignores it.

“Callie, we can fix this, we can…get through it-“

“What if I don’t want to get through it?”

I could’ve just slapped her in the face judging by the look she’s giving me. I don’t want to hurt her anymore; I don’t want to drag her along into this downward spiral of darkness that I’ve found since my dad died. Maybe that was another reason why I did what I did…so she could have a way out without feeling like she let me down.

“I just…” I struggle to find a way to explain it all to her. “I slept with someone, Arizona. And that doesn’t go away…trust me, I know, with what happened with…I just, don’t want to hurt you anymore. I just need some time…alone.”

She’s biting her lip now to hold back the sobs and watching her is like a knife stabbing me in the chest, sending the sharp, icy pain throughout my body. Because I know…I know that this is it. This is the end…

****************************************************************

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Mark’s voice interrupts my reminiscing and pulls me back to the crowded bar.

“Don’t worry about it,” I respond, shooting him a smirk and motioning to the five empty shot glasses before me. “I clearly didn’t need you to start.”

He snorts at my joke and orders a beer from Joe as he takes his seat beside me.

“How was the rest of your shift?” I ask, turning to face him while we talk.

He tells me his animated story of how he spent the remaining few hours working on some skin grafts in the lab. I’m trying my hardest to concentrate on his words, but as soon as I see her enter the bar, my attention is broken. It’s not the fact that she looks beyond beautiful in a simple pair of dark jeans, a purple blouse, and black heels; or the way her eyes are lit up and her smile is illuminating the bar. It’s the reason she’s smiling; the reason her eyes are sparkling that’s gaining my attention. She’s holding the hand of the Peds nurse she’s been dating for the past month and talking in intimate whispers, pulling her along until they find the table in the corner occupied by Teddy and Lexie. I find myself feeling nauseated; and it has nothing to do with the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed already.

Mark glances over his shoulder and sees what I’m staring at. He does a double-take when he notices Lexie as one of the table occupants and turns around to order a shot from Joe. I smile to myself, noticing that maybe I’m not quite as alone in my misery as I may have thought.

We both try to form some kind of conversation, but our attempts are often broken by the laughter emanating periodically from the corner table. A few more rounds of shots later, I find that I can’t take it anymore. The way her hand is moving up Arizona’s leg or the way she casually leans over to whisper something in her ear that results in a flirty grin…it’s all too much to handle anymore.

“Wanna get out of here?” I interrupt Mark and pray that he’ll agree to indulge in some heart-pouring conversation back at one of our apartments.

“Yeah,” he sighs, paying for both of our drinks and standing up to follow me out of the bar, taking one last glance back at Lexie before he holds the door open for me and we step into the cool Seattle air.

Arizona

“Hey!” I greet two very drunk, very giggly blondes sitting in a corner table in Joe’s.

They grin back at Caitlin and I as we make our way, hand-in-hand, to the table they’ve reserved for the four of us.

“Just in time for some tequila!” Lexie yells cheerfully when Joe appears from behind us with a round of alcohol.

“Hm, looks like we may have missed rounds 1 through 10 though,” Caitlin jokes as we hop onto the bar stools and delve into another night of laughter and the promise of not remembering any of it the next morning.

The feeling of contentment that washes over me as I watch my newly declared girlfriend and my two friends joke back and forth over random patients and hospital gossip is something that I’ve missed recently. It’s a feeling I never thought I would get back…not since Callie.

But I’ve moved on. My clinical trial is developing with unheard of progress; I have great friends and a great girlfriend who I can see myself slowly falling for. I don’t spend every night curled up, crying myself to sleep all alone. I’ve moved on.

But if I’ve moved on…why is there a sharp pain that shoots through me when I see Mark lead Callie out of the door to their apartment building?