Maybe (1/1)
Title Maybe
Rating PG-13
Warnings Mild language. That's about it.
Author somedayxxbway
Disclaimer here
Summary Based on a spoilery video clip in JCaps's interview on The View. Callie and Arizona have a discussion about children.
Okay, so I’ve said it before and I will say it again. Sometimes when I’m panicking, I call things wrong. Calliope may have problems with eating her words, speaking before she thinks, but at least she doesn’t jump to conclusions like I do. If I didn’t jump to conclusions so much, we wouldn’t be having such an awful conversation right now.
Callie looks at me and says quietly, “This is hard for me to say, because I really care about you, and-“
I cut her off. I jump to a conclusion and I can’t help but go there out loud.
“Oh my God, you’re breaking up with me!” I exclaim. How can this be? We love each other. It must be Mark. Maybe she’s sleeping with him again. After all, they’ve been quite chummy recently. Now that I think about it, Mark turns to sex for comfort, and Callie being his best friend… Wait. What if Callie’s been faking it this whole time? What if-
“What?” asks Callie, totally surprised by my assumption. I press on.
“Mark, is it Mark? Are you sleeping with Mark again? Or are you one of those fake lesbians, just having a va-va-vacation in Lesbianland?”
“Stop!” says Callie, looking offended. “God…it’s not bad. What I have to tell you isn’t bad.” I swallow. The look on her face says it’s bad, or at least it’s going to be hard for me to hear.
“I just…” says Callie. “I want to have a baby.”
Oh, that’s bad. I feel my body go rigid. Babies scare me. No, not babies themselves, but the thought of having one of my own. Having to take care of a being who could easily get sick. Having to go through all that pain and suffering…and having to see Callie go through the pain and suffering of a sick child. Babies-children terrify me.
“You…you want to have a baby?” I repeat.
“Yeah,” says Callie. Her expression is searching. I try my hardest to maintain a neutral face. I can’t let her know how much this affects me. I don’t want a baby, I can’t have a baby. Why does this have to come up now? I would almost rather she was sleeping with Mark…
No, that’s a lie. I can’t even imagine what I would do if that were the case. Probably mourn her just as much as I’d mourned my brother, as Calliope means everything to me.
“Is that…okay?” Calliope asks. She looks upset now.
“I…well, I don’t…um,” I say. “I think we should talk about this,” I finally say. Callie laughs bitterly as if I’m playing a cruel joke on her. She laughed the same way the first time I said yiiiikes to kids. She laughed the same way when I told her people were lining up for her, in a bathroom, a year ago. It’s her trademark, What are you trying to tell me? laugh. Her Don’t give me that shit laugh.
“That’s what we’re doing right now, ‘Zona,” she says, a hurt smile playing at her lips. “Why don’t you want kids?”
I had known that this discussion would inevitably come up. I knew Callie would want children someday, but I hoped she would be a little more accepting of the fact that I just can’t give them to her. And not just because my anatomy doesn’t biologically work like that.
“Because I work in peds,” I answer plainly. “I see kids get sick, get injured, even die. What’s worse, I see the broken-hearted parents sitting there waiting for me to deliver the fatal news. I see the tiny remaining glimmer of hope leave their eyes without a trace when I tell them that their little prince or princess is now an angel and no longer on Earth. I go through hell just telling them that. I can’t imagine being them.”
Callie’s eyebrows are knit together in confusion. I can tell that she’s processing all that I’m saying in her mind.
“I want kids, Calliope,” I say. “I just don't think I can have them. I don’t think I could handle seeing tiny coffins once inhabited with patients, inhabited with our children. So many nights, it’s torment enough having nightmares about strangers’ children. Do you see what I would have to go through if it was my own?”
Realization creeps onto Callie’s face.
“But Arizona,” she says, “You only see the sick children. You don’t see the classrooms full of healthy kids and the greater population. Honey…” she says. She can tell that even though I’m the one bearing the bad tidings, I’m also the vulnerable one in this conversation. She wraps her arms around me. “You’re a pediatric surgeon, which means you only really see the kids with the huge cases like cancer. They even come from other cities to see you. You would probably have more tonsillectomies if you weren’t such a damn good surgeon. That means that you see more sick kids than there are in Seattle, and not all of the sick kids die. When I was a kid, I didn’t know anyone my age that died.”
She gets it, I think. But she doesn’t get it, at the same time. I pull away from her arms, needing to move. I start pacing back and forth.
“But I would be constantly living in fear that our kids would get sick,” I say.
“Ari, why would you be?” she says. “You’ve seen what the doctors at Seattle Grace are willing to do for their patient. You’ve been a part of it. Do you not remember that little boy with the nosebleed around the holidays? You worked your ass off to create medical equipment that would save him. Now if you and Derek and Mark will do that for a stranger, imagine what the entire hospital would do for you. Everyone at Seattle Grace loves you. I know someone who would do anything for you.” Callie adds this last line with a grin reserved just for me. I smile back, but now is not the time.
“I just…I don’t know, Callie,” I say. “I want to spend my life with you. I can’t imagine living with anyone else, or without you. I just don’t know if kids are in the future for us.”
Callie’s face falls, but her chin is still set stubbornly.
“I think I knew you would say that,” she says. If I didn’t know Calliope, I would think she had said that dejectedly, but knowing stubborn Callie, she’ll get her way or go down fighting. “You know this isn’t over.”
“Oh, I know,” I say. “With you, it’s never over.” I smile.
“So is that a maybe?” Callie asks hopefully, making a pouty face that sends waves of adorable my way. Sometimes I wonder if her sincere brown eyes are hypnotic and she has me under her spell.
I giggle at her puppy-like expression. Oh, what the hell...
“That may,” I say, “be a maybe.”
Title Maybe
Rating PG-13
Warnings Mild language. That's about it.
Author somedayxxbway
Disclaimer here
Summary Based on a spoilery video clip in JCaps's interview on The View. Callie and Arizona have a discussion about children.
Okay, so I’ve said it before and I will say it again. Sometimes when I’m panicking, I call things wrong. Calliope may have problems with eating her words, speaking before she thinks, but at least she doesn’t jump to conclusions like I do. If I didn’t jump to conclusions so much, we wouldn’t be having such an awful conversation right now.
Callie looks at me and says quietly, “This is hard for me to say, because I really care about you, and-“
I cut her off. I jump to a conclusion and I can’t help but go there out loud.
“Oh my God, you’re breaking up with me!” I exclaim. How can this be? We love each other. It must be Mark. Maybe she’s sleeping with him again. After all, they’ve been quite chummy recently. Now that I think about it, Mark turns to sex for comfort, and Callie being his best friend… Wait. What if Callie’s been faking it this whole time? What if-
“What?” asks Callie, totally surprised by my assumption. I press on.
“Mark, is it Mark? Are you sleeping with Mark again? Or are you one of those fake lesbians, just having a va-va-vacation in Lesbianland?”
“Stop!” says Callie, looking offended. “God…it’s not bad. What I have to tell you isn’t bad.” I swallow. The look on her face says it’s bad, or at least it’s going to be hard for me to hear.
“I just…” says Callie. “I want to have a baby.”
Oh, that’s bad. I feel my body go rigid. Babies scare me. No, not babies themselves, but the thought of having one of my own. Having to take care of a being who could easily get sick. Having to go through all that pain and suffering…and having to see Callie go through the pain and suffering of a sick child. Babies-children terrify me.
“You…you want to have a baby?” I repeat.
“Yeah,” says Callie. Her expression is searching. I try my hardest to maintain a neutral face. I can’t let her know how much this affects me. I don’t want a baby, I can’t have a baby. Why does this have to come up now? I would almost rather she was sleeping with Mark…
No, that’s a lie. I can’t even imagine what I would do if that were the case. Probably mourn her just as much as I’d mourned my brother, as Calliope means everything to me.
“Is that…okay?” Calliope asks. She looks upset now.
“I…well, I don’t…um,” I say. “I think we should talk about this,” I finally say. Callie laughs bitterly as if I’m playing a cruel joke on her. She laughed the same way the first time I said yiiiikes to kids. She laughed the same way when I told her people were lining up for her, in a bathroom, a year ago. It’s her trademark, What are you trying to tell me? laugh. Her Don’t give me that shit laugh.
“That’s what we’re doing right now, ‘Zona,” she says, a hurt smile playing at her lips. “Why don’t you want kids?”
I had known that this discussion would inevitably come up. I knew Callie would want children someday, but I hoped she would be a little more accepting of the fact that I just can’t give them to her. And not just because my anatomy doesn’t biologically work like that.
“Because I work in peds,” I answer plainly. “I see kids get sick, get injured, even die. What’s worse, I see the broken-hearted parents sitting there waiting for me to deliver the fatal news. I see the tiny remaining glimmer of hope leave their eyes without a trace when I tell them that their little prince or princess is now an angel and no longer on Earth. I go through hell just telling them that. I can’t imagine being them.”
Callie’s eyebrows are knit together in confusion. I can tell that she’s processing all that I’m saying in her mind.
“I want kids, Calliope,” I say. “I just don't think I can have them. I don’t think I could handle seeing tiny coffins once inhabited with patients, inhabited with our children. So many nights, it’s torment enough having nightmares about strangers’ children. Do you see what I would have to go through if it was my own?”
Realization creeps onto Callie’s face.
“But Arizona,” she says, “You only see the sick children. You don’t see the classrooms full of healthy kids and the greater population. Honey…” she says. She can tell that even though I’m the one bearing the bad tidings, I’m also the vulnerable one in this conversation. She wraps her arms around me. “You’re a pediatric surgeon, which means you only really see the kids with the huge cases like cancer. They even come from other cities to see you. You would probably have more tonsillectomies if you weren’t such a damn good surgeon. That means that you see more sick kids than there are in Seattle, and not all of the sick kids die. When I was a kid, I didn’t know anyone my age that died.”
She gets it, I think. But she doesn’t get it, at the same time. I pull away from her arms, needing to move. I start pacing back and forth.
“But I would be constantly living in fear that our kids would get sick,” I say.
“Ari, why would you be?” she says. “You’ve seen what the doctors at Seattle Grace are willing to do for their patient. You’ve been a part of it. Do you not remember that little boy with the nosebleed around the holidays? You worked your ass off to create medical equipment that would save him. Now if you and Derek and Mark will do that for a stranger, imagine what the entire hospital would do for you. Everyone at Seattle Grace loves you. I know someone who would do anything for you.” Callie adds this last line with a grin reserved just for me. I smile back, but now is not the time.
“I just…I don’t know, Callie,” I say. “I want to spend my life with you. I can’t imagine living with anyone else, or without you. I just don’t know if kids are in the future for us.”
Callie’s face falls, but her chin is still set stubbornly.
“I think I knew you would say that,” she says. If I didn’t know Calliope, I would think she had said that dejectedly, but knowing stubborn Callie, she’ll get her way or go down fighting. “You know this isn’t over.”
“Oh, I know,” I say. “With you, it’s never over.” I smile.
“So is that a maybe?” Callie asks hopefully, making a pouty face that sends waves of adorable my way. Sometimes I wonder if her sincere brown eyes are hypnotic and she has me under her spell.
I giggle at her puppy-like expression. Oh, what the hell...
“That may,” I say, “be a maybe.”