Second Time Around (3C/?)
Title: Second Time Around (3C/?)
Author: Nora C. Parker
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Set in Season 6. What if a different Cardio God came to SWMWH during the episode "New HIstory" (6x09). This story contemplates a surgeon other than Teddy joining the staff. The story veers from the established timeline as of that episode, although some of the episode is referenced within this story.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership over the characters.
Note: I began this story about a year ago. The entire first chapter was posted elsewhere online. The rest of it is a journey. And speaking of journeys, I'm off on a journey of my own for a couple days. I'll finish this when I return.
Prior parts:
Part 1A
Part 1B
Part 1C
Part 1D
Part 2A
Part 2B
Part 2C
Part 3A
Part 3B
Part 3: Sweet little lies might have worked for Fleetwood Mac
A playful backhanded slap connected with Mark’s chest. “Stop it. You know she doesn’t like it when you talk like that.”
“Maybe she doesn’t.” Mark lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “But I’m talking to you.”
# # #
It was late when Arizona walked into the bedroom. The first time she’d seen Callie since the kiss in the stairwell and her girlfriend was already tucked under the covers in bed. “Sweetie?”
“Tired,” came the sole word from Callie’s side of the bed. She was on her side, facing towards the bed’s center. Arizona took a seat on the edge and rubbed her hand on the Callie-shaped lump’s back.
“Really tired?”
“Headache. I tried talking to Hahn; gave me a headache.”
That statement was perfectly understandable to Arizona, given her day’s experience with Hahn. Arizona put her hands on Callie’s neck and started a light massage.
The action was rewarded with a sound somewhere between a hum and a purr.
“Better?” Arizona asked, leaning over to whisper in Callie’s ear.
“Starting,” Callie mumbled in agreement.
Smoothing away the long black hair from the back of her girlfriend’s neck, Arizona leaned over and planted a light kiss. While she hoped for this chance to connect with Callie after her day, the way Callie stiffened made her instead feel even more anxious.
Not yet willing to concede, Arizona continued the kisses. Light. From the back of the neck to the side, moving towards the jawline. She smiled as Callie rolled over on her back, making those full lips accessible. Smiled until…
“No. Arizona, please?” As she made the request, Callie had a hand on Arizona’s shoulder, lightly pressing her back into an upright position. “Headache.”
“Of course.” Not wanting her disappointment to show, Arizona turned back towards the closet, trying to figure out some way to get out of this room that suddenly seemed to be lacking oxygen.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Callie continued. “I even took one of Mark’s suggested cures. It’s just bad.”
The mention of Sloan’s name and Arizona froze. Now she had to get out of here. Had to find a reason. Any reason. She took a deep breath and put her game face back on. “That’s okay.” She went back to the bed and rubbed lightly on Callie’s arm. “I just remembered. I have a presentation tomorrow.”
“You do? What?”
“Yeah. And I’m not sure I’ve got the right outfit for it over here. I’m going to head to my place and probably just stay there tonight.”
“You sure?”
This was hard. Looking right at Callie and lying. It was hard. But facing what might actually be the truth about Callie and Mark tonight, that would be so much worse. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Arizona brushed a quick kiss across Callie’s forehead. “Feel better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It wasn’t until Arizona was out of the room that she let the smile fade, and she fought against the feeling of tears. Not here, not now. This wasn’t what she wanted.
How did everything get so messed up so quickly?
Pulling herself together, she got into her car and headed for her apartment. There, she found an unopened bottle of red. By the time she was halfway through the third glass, the first two that she had downed far too quickly kicked in and she knew that when she got into the bed, alone, she’d be able to sleep.
# # #
As had become a nightly ritual in their bedroom, Meredith Grey found Derek Shepherd reading through a large stack of papers.
“Anything exciting in there?” she asked, really hoping that there was no on-point answer.
“Some grant applications. Something distracting.”
Getting into bed, Meredith gave him a coy smile. “I could find a way to distract you.”
The effect was not lost. “I’m sure you could.”
She scrunched up her nose. “You’re looking for funding as a distraction?”
“I’m looking for funding and it’s a distraction from something that might be more a friend thing.”
“A ‘friend’ thing. Good friend?”
“More like new friend.” He put the papers into his lap. “Did you work with Dr. Robbins today?”
“Dr. Robbins. No. Why?”
“I saw her and she just seemed a little…off, I guess is the word.”
“I always thought the perky roller-skating thing was off.”
“I think it’s somewhat endearing.” Derek smiled, but noticed his wife did not seem entirely pleased by his comment. “In an ‘endearing on her and her alone’ sort of way.”
“Good. For a minute I was thinking you were going to ask for something and be totally disappointed.”
“Disappointed? Never.” Derek put his work on the nightstand. “But I am curious as to why she’d be screaming in the Attending’s lounge.
“What that in the afternoon?”
“Yes. Why would that matter?”
“Cristina mentioned she had surgery with Robbins and Hahn.”
Any connection wasn’t obvious. “So?”
“So, Hahn’s got this thing for Torres.”
Definitely not an expected reply. “Wait, let me get this straight.”
At the last word, Meredith cocked an eyebrow as she gave him a knowing grin.
“Wrong word choice?” he asked.
“So wrong.”
“Okay.” He returned her smile. “So, there was a Hahn and Torres? Did you know that?”
“Not until Cristina told me today.” She snuggled closer to him. “Think they’ll fight it out?”
“Mer. They’re professionals. I predict no fighting.”
“Right, because surgeons never fight.”
“Exactly.” And there ended any potential rehash of his now infamous fist fight with Mark Sloan.
“But if there is a fight, I call dibs on any surgeries. Except for hearts; Cristina’s already called dibs on those.”
Derek shook his head and leaned over to give her a kiss. “You’re terrible.”
“And you wouldn’t want me any other way.”
A thought to which he could only agree.
(end part 3)
Next…
Chapter 4: Sing it, Van Morrison
Author: Nora C. Parker
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Set in Season 6. What if a different Cardio God came to SWMWH during the episode "New HIstory" (6x09). This story contemplates a surgeon other than Teddy joining the staff. The story veers from the established timeline as of that episode, although some of the episode is referenced within this story.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership over the characters.
Note: I began this story about a year ago. The entire first chapter was posted elsewhere online. The rest of it is a journey. And speaking of journeys, I'm off on a journey of my own for a couple days. I'll finish this when I return.
Prior parts:
Part 1A
Part 1B
Part 1C
Part 1D
Part 2A
Part 2B
Part 2C
Part 3A
Part 3B
Part 3: Sweet little lies might have worked for Fleetwood Mac
A playful backhanded slap connected with Mark’s chest. “Stop it. You know she doesn’t like it when you talk like that.”
“Maybe she doesn’t.” Mark lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “But I’m talking to you.”
# # #
It was late when Arizona walked into the bedroom. The first time she’d seen Callie since the kiss in the stairwell and her girlfriend was already tucked under the covers in bed. “Sweetie?”
“Tired,” came the sole word from Callie’s side of the bed. She was on her side, facing towards the bed’s center. Arizona took a seat on the edge and rubbed her hand on the Callie-shaped lump’s back.
“Really tired?”
“Headache. I tried talking to Hahn; gave me a headache.”
That statement was perfectly understandable to Arizona, given her day’s experience with Hahn. Arizona put her hands on Callie’s neck and started a light massage.
The action was rewarded with a sound somewhere between a hum and a purr.
“Better?” Arizona asked, leaning over to whisper in Callie’s ear.
“Starting,” Callie mumbled in agreement.
Smoothing away the long black hair from the back of her girlfriend’s neck, Arizona leaned over and planted a light kiss. While she hoped for this chance to connect with Callie after her day, the way Callie stiffened made her instead feel even more anxious.
Not yet willing to concede, Arizona continued the kisses. Light. From the back of the neck to the side, moving towards the jawline. She smiled as Callie rolled over on her back, making those full lips accessible. Smiled until…
“No. Arizona, please?” As she made the request, Callie had a hand on Arizona’s shoulder, lightly pressing her back into an upright position. “Headache.”
“Of course.” Not wanting her disappointment to show, Arizona turned back towards the closet, trying to figure out some way to get out of this room that suddenly seemed to be lacking oxygen.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Callie continued. “I even took one of Mark’s suggested cures. It’s just bad.”
The mention of Sloan’s name and Arizona froze. Now she had to get out of here. Had to find a reason. Any reason. She took a deep breath and put her game face back on. “That’s okay.” She went back to the bed and rubbed lightly on Callie’s arm. “I just remembered. I have a presentation tomorrow.”
“You do? What?”
“Yeah. And I’m not sure I’ve got the right outfit for it over here. I’m going to head to my place and probably just stay there tonight.”
“You sure?”
This was hard. Looking right at Callie and lying. It was hard. But facing what might actually be the truth about Callie and Mark tonight, that would be so much worse. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Arizona brushed a quick kiss across Callie’s forehead. “Feel better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It wasn’t until Arizona was out of the room that she let the smile fade, and she fought against the feeling of tears. Not here, not now. This wasn’t what she wanted.
How did everything get so messed up so quickly?
Pulling herself together, she got into her car and headed for her apartment. There, she found an unopened bottle of red. By the time she was halfway through the third glass, the first two that she had downed far too quickly kicked in and she knew that when she got into the bed, alone, she’d be able to sleep.
# # #
As had become a nightly ritual in their bedroom, Meredith Grey found Derek Shepherd reading through a large stack of papers.
“Anything exciting in there?” she asked, really hoping that there was no on-point answer.
“Some grant applications. Something distracting.”
Getting into bed, Meredith gave him a coy smile. “I could find a way to distract you.”
The effect was not lost. “I’m sure you could.”
She scrunched up her nose. “You’re looking for funding as a distraction?”
“I’m looking for funding and it’s a distraction from something that might be more a friend thing.”
“A ‘friend’ thing. Good friend?”
“More like new friend.” He put the papers into his lap. “Did you work with Dr. Robbins today?”
“Dr. Robbins. No. Why?”
“I saw her and she just seemed a little…off, I guess is the word.”
“I always thought the perky roller-skating thing was off.”
“I think it’s somewhat endearing.” Derek smiled, but noticed his wife did not seem entirely pleased by his comment. “In an ‘endearing on her and her alone’ sort of way.”
“Good. For a minute I was thinking you were going to ask for something and be totally disappointed.”
“Disappointed? Never.” Derek put his work on the nightstand. “But I am curious as to why she’d be screaming in the Attending’s lounge.
“What that in the afternoon?”
“Yes. Why would that matter?”
“Cristina mentioned she had surgery with Robbins and Hahn.”
Any connection wasn’t obvious. “So?”
“So, Hahn’s got this thing for Torres.”
Definitely not an expected reply. “Wait, let me get this straight.”
At the last word, Meredith cocked an eyebrow as she gave him a knowing grin.
“Wrong word choice?” he asked.
“So wrong.”
“Okay.” He returned her smile. “So, there was a Hahn and Torres? Did you know that?”
“Not until Cristina told me today.” She snuggled closer to him. “Think they’ll fight it out?”
“Mer. They’re professionals. I predict no fighting.”
“Right, because surgeons never fight.”
“Exactly.” And there ended any potential rehash of his now infamous fist fight with Mark Sloan.
“But if there is a fight, I call dibs on any surgeries. Except for hearts; Cristina’s already called dibs on those.”
Derek shook his head and leaned over to give her a kiss. “You’re terrible.”
“And you wouldn’t want me any other way.”
A thought to which he could only agree.
(end part 3)
Next…
Chapter 4: Sing it, Van Morrison