Midnight Oil: Special Assignment - Episode Ten: Bang Bang
Midnight Oil: Special Assignment
By taintedidealist and drink46
Disclaimer:We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on Grey's Anatomy which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order and CSI. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.
Ratings: Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.
Feedback: Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.
Story Information: This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.
Episode One: Every New Beginning
Episode Two: Everyone is Waiting
Episode Three: Inhale Exhale
Episode Four: Connection
Episode Five: Pinch Me
Episode Six: Afterglow
Episode Seven: The Story So Far
Episode Eight: Heavy in Your Arms
Episode Nine: Lost and Found
Episode Ten: Bang Bang
Conflict has existed since the beginning of time. You could even say that the beginning of time was rather violent. According to the big bang, an extremely hot, dense, rapidly expanding state is what first created the universe. And there has been hostility ever since.
Arizona tugged her motorcycle jacket on over her shoulders as she quickly walked through the hallways of KING 5 studios. Her hair was slightly damp from the beginnings of a downpour that, as the chirpy weather woman had announced, would only get heavier as the day wore on.
"But you understand what I'm saying, right, Arizona? She moved directly into my camera space." The clicking of heels that had to have cost more than her monthly take home pay followed her at a double time clip.
She couldn't get away from her or the conversation she didn't want to be in, "I don't think it was intentional, Addison."
Before she knew it, a hand curved around her shoulder and pulled her to a stop, "Oh, she did it on purpose. Teddy is just goading me on air. Did you hear her opening and closing bites today?"
Arizona nodded as she tried to stay out of the feud between the morning co-anchors. "Yeah, but I mean, you have to get the numbers up, right?"
"KING 5, The women you want to wake up with?" Addison jutted out her hip, the pencil line skirt accentuating her form.
Arizona's tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she tried to think of something to neutralize the spitfire in front of her, "It was creative?"
Snorting, Addison rolled her eyes in defeat, "Fine, but the sign off: For more T and A, check back tomorrow?"
"Teddy and Addison," Arizona waved her hands. "That's all she meant by it."
"My ass..." Addison pouted and Arizona stifled a laugh. "I am trying to be a professional woman. Do you know how hard it is to be a woman in this field and be taken seriously?"
Arizona smiled weakly and rubbed Addison's shoulder. "Just relax. She's playing an angle. You know that sex sells and if it bleeds, it leads. She's only following the very formula the media projects. Besides, I wouldn't mind waking up with either one of you in the morning... you know, if I kept normal hours."
A lopsided grin moved across Addison's face as she narrowed her eyes, "If I didn't know you had a girlfriend already, I'd think you were hitting on me." She paused in thought for a moment, "Actually, I'm going to take that as you hitting on me. I need some spring in my step." Quickly leaning forward, a kiss was dropped on Arizona's cheek. Pulling back, she winced, slightly rubbing at the bright red lipstick mark.
Wearily, Arizona yelled after Addison in her retreat, "Glad I could help." Then she took off toward the parking garage, mumbling under her breath, "I've gotta get out of this place."
As she entered the stairwell, her phone rang. Caller ID told her it was Callie, and she quickly answered.
"I saw you on the traffic report this morning," Callie's voice chirped to her through the handset speaker, in lieu of a greeting.
"You did?" Arizona's voice warmed in surprise, "I thought you were still working."
"Oh," Callie hated to be the one to disappoint, "I am. The television in the break room was on. There were some guys that liked the morning eye candy, and with that bridge jumper story, one of the newbies wanted to see himself on television. So, I got a glimpse of you. They're right, great eye candy. You're hot in that helicopter, Captain."
A disgruntled breath pushed out of Arizona, as she saw that in the hour it took to wrap up flight check, work her way through the station, and get to the garage, that the rain was now more aggressive. Instead of the weather, she focused back on Callie, "I didn't even get to wear my new aviators this morning with the clouds, and next to the rest of the women I…" she stopped herself briefly and nodded, "Am hot. I am so hot, in fact, that I might be too famous for you."
"Sydney Sullivan won't go out with a lowly police detective? That's okay. I'm much more interested in Captain Arizona Robbins. Naked. In my apartment. What time do you think she'll be there? Because I get off in..." Callie looked at her watch, "about twenty minutes."
"Oh, do you?" Arizona's voice lilted playfully. "Because I actually was planning on being dirty when you got home." She pushed through the door of the station, happy to be in the small parking garage today, "So dirty that I just might need a long, hot shower."
"Torres, hang up the phone," Arizona heard Mark faintly in the background.
"Hang on," Callie said into the phone. "Mark, shut up. This is important."
Arizona heard some muffled talking, some static on the line, and then Callie's voice telling her that there was a change in plans.
Tugging her helmet off of the handle bar of her bike, Arizona nodded, "Okay, but I'll still be needing a shower when you get home. I'm going to fix your Thunderbird; get it flying again." She paused for a moment, realizing that even though she was used to Callie’s line of work being dangerous, it still brought some anxiety over her well-being, "Be safe. I'll see you at home."
"I like the sound of that," Callie smiled and hung up her phone. "What, Mark? What?" she yelled at him impatiently as soon as Arizona was off of the line.
* * *
"Please be advised, I have a 911 caller reporting a shooting and possible dead male at North 2nd Avenue and Roy Street. This is a code one emergency and possible ten-eighty-one. I need a nearest location on all available units. What's your twenty?"
Lexie walked closer to the radio as she heard cross streets that were all too familiar to her. Blowing lightly on her tea cup, she mindlessly let the bag dip in and out of the water. She was never good at steeping, she forever needed to be moving, somehow nervous energy always escaped out of her. Her mother said she reminded her of a hyper Yorkshire terrier, yipping loudly.
"Dispatch, this is 359 and 416. We are heading south on Elliott Ave, coming up on Mercer. We're ten-seventy-six, two minutes out. Did the caller give a number on the address, or are we looking at the street?"
"359, please be advised the address we have is 701 North 2nd Avenue. EMS unit has been dispatched."
Lexie dropped her tea in shock, hot liquid splashing over her cargo work pants and pooling onto the floor at her feet. A moment later, she was rushing out of the front door and into her personal vehicle, fumbling with first her keys, then the door and seat belt. In a blur, mindlessly, she floored the car out of the parking lot, the back end fishtailing as it entered the wet road.
701 North 2nd Avenue. Possible ten-eighty-one. Mark's voice responding to the call. Her brain started putting the pieces together for her as she raced down the street. She was the ten-eighty-one: Department member's family is involved. Shooting. Possible dead male. At her father's house.
* * *
The Kia Sportage's breaks squealed as she rounded the corner onto 2nd avenue. The rain, steady as she left the CSU department, was now coming in stronger waves. She pulled up to the curb and took a deep breath. The lights to the ambulance were not running. Two forms stood under the awning of the front porch, looking out onto the street.
There had to be reasons that the ambulance was still at the scene. Maybe the bullet grazed by and was just a flesh wound. Her father probably refused the ride for the benefit of the taxpayer. He always liked to get in a dig about taking services when they were not needed.
Reasonable explanations, they had to be there, because otherwise it meant something different entirely.
A small beat up truck was in the driveway and she recoiled at the sight, understanding that Danielle, her father's new 'girlfriend' was there as well.
"Fantastic," Lexie grumbled to herself, focusing on the annoyance that the relationship her father had with this new woman, who was a tattooed version of Malibu Barbie, nestled into her life. "Okay Lex, let's get in and fix this."
She took a moment to steady herself and then stepped out of her car, into the rain. Crossing her arms, she walked quickly across the front lawn, toward the front porch steps. As she approached, the people before her took on more familiar shapes.
When he realized that she was nearing the house, and hadn't arrived with a department vehicle, Mark Sloan met her in the front yard. As the rain fell on both of them, he took in her worried expression and wasn't sure how to break the news. But, she was already here, so he realized that she probably already feared the worst.
Without a word, he slipped off his department issued jacket and slipped it over her shoulders to try to protect her from the rain. There was no protecting her from what she would see inside.
"Lexie," the tone of voice that Callie was using with her as she stepped forward already made the blood in her veins freeze. She felt Mark's hands running up and down her back before he tugged the coat tighter around her, popping the collar to protect her exposed neck from the weather.
"Can you call Meredith? Or, is there anyone that you need to be here?" Callie's questions fell on deaf ears as Lexie looked passed her, at the bottle blonde wiping at the tears falling down her face, mascara trails cutting through her caked on makeup.
"Where is my father?"
Mark cleared his throat and dipped his head down, trying to get Lexie's eyes back to his face, "Lexie, it appears that there has been a shooting."
"Don't try to sugar coat this, Mark. I heard dispatch. I heard the call," Lexie said, trembling. "Is he alive?"
Mark stood in silence. Lexie's question was unanswered until Callie stepped in. "I'm sorry, Lexie," Callie said. Before she could say anything further, Lexie was already running for the door, past her father's sobbing girlfriend, and into the house. Mark sprinted after her to try to contain the crime scene.
But Lexie was too professional to get in the way. Two emergency medical technicians were leaving as she arrived. Her father had obviously been dead on their arrival, and the medical examiner was being called in.
"Oh, God," Lexie whispered to herself. "Meredith."
Bringing her hand to her mouth, she stifled a sob. Her watery eyes leveled on Mark, "What happened?"
"The girlfriend, Danielle, said that she had been out late with friends in from high school, came home, and found him like this... she called 911 and until we find out more from the ME, then…" he laid a hand softly on her shoulder, "I'm sorry. Lexie."
"We was shot?" Lexie's body began to shake visibly, and Mark ushered her to a stiff back wooden chair and made her sit down. "Why would anyone shoot him?"
"Did he have any enemies? Disgruntled co-workers, employees, acquaintances?" Mark asked her calmly, in quiet tones. He wanted to be able to solve Thatcher Grey's case quickly, but he knew Lexie's dad's history all too well. Catching Callie's eye, he flashed her a look that spoke volumes to her.
"Lexie, was your father an alcoholic?" she asked, already fearing the answer.
Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment in confusion, "What do you mean?" Lexie glanced back and forth between Callie and Sloan. "My father was an alcoholic, but he was going to AA," she gestured to the now sobbing girl curled up on the loveseat, "He met Danielle there, even. He was sober. Why is this even relevant to anything?"
Callie lowered her head. The serial attacks were getting more frequent. The killer was escalating and it was up to her and Sloan to stop him. Without answering any of Lexie's questions, Callie headed toward Danielle for questioning.
"Excuse me, Danielle?" Callie questioned warmly.
The young woman with dirty blonde hair sniffled loudly and wiped at her eyes. Callie looked at the tear tracks running down Danielle's cheeks, cutting through the mascara and foundation. The tears seemed to be washing away all remnants of the evening out that the girlfriend had told them through sobs for the medics on scene.
She pulled her legs up underneath her, forming a sort of fetal position; a lot of loved ones would take on this posture when finding a body. Trying to comfort themselves, as their loved one could no longer do so.
Callie kindly smiled, "I just want to clarify a few things with you, if that's okay?"
Danielle nodded brushing her side swept bangs back behind her ear, "Sure," her eye line shifted and Callie glanced behind herself. Mark was rubbing slowly up and down Lexie's back as he spoke into a cell phone. Bringing her attention back to her witness she cleared her throat before Danielle interrupted, "Did she blame me?"
Shaking her head from side to side, Callie answered swiftly, "No, she didn't." Crouching down, Callie looked up at the woman and smiled again, "So, you were out of the house tonight with friends?"
"Yes. Look, I already told you all of this. There was a downpour so we decided to ride it out at the bar until closing, and my friend lives right across the street and I couldn't drive at that point anyway, so I just stayed at Jamie's." Danielle did not make eye contact with Callie, and was instead watching Lexie and Sloan.
"And is it unusual for you to not come home, or not call if you're not coming home?" Callie pressed forward.
"I did call," she nodded. "Thatcher didn't answer, but that's not unusual." She started sobbing more uncontrollably. "Oh, God, he was already dead then, wasn't he? I should have come home!"
Reaching out for her hand, Callie's voice dipped into a lower register, sounding warmer and more comforting, a trick of the trade, "We don't know that for sure. Now Danielle, did you notice anyone new or suspicious around the house or neighborhood?" She could see her focusing on the questions her eyes rolled up, trying to run through the mind's eye. "Anything threatening or out of the usual happen to either of you recently."
"No, nothing is jumping out at me or any one person."
Callie decided to dig into her theory a bit, "Lexie had mentioned something about AA, was Thatcher still going?"
The question seemed to be a slap to the woman as she sat back roughly, "Of course he was, we both were. Thatcher was faithful to the program."
"Anything come up in AA? New people, something odd?" Callie's hand was starting to hurt, Danielle was holding it so tight. Callie smiled warmly and rubbed the top of her witness's hand.
"There are new people in and out all the time, but nothing that stands out." Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm not helping at all," she said sadly, shaking her head.
"No, you're doing great. That's enough questions for now, anyway." Callie stood and Danielle dropped her hand. Outside, she saw Derek pull into the driveway, and Meredith Grey got out of the passenger seat and started for the house.
Turning back to the bereft girl, she sighed, "Is there anyone we can call for you? A friend?"
A tight smile and strangled laugh came out of her, "Actually my friend Maggie is coming here. I'm going to stay at her place. It's weird, I never thought she'd be the one to be there for me."
Callie nodded, "People can surprise you."
She looked at the two sisters hugging and saw as Lexie broke down, not able to hold together a facade once Meredith pulled her into an embrace. Derek stood in the corner pulling on gloves as he kicked his head back for the detectives to join him.
"What am I looking for, Detectives?"
"Thatcher Grey was shot and killed last night," Mark said plainly. "No known suspect or motive at this time, but if you're a betting man, odds are good we can link this to our anti-alcohol vigilante."
Derek nodded as he leaned over the body and pulled up his shirt to find the bullet wounds. "Looks like two shots to the chest."
"My only problem with linking this to the serials," Torres said, "is that as far as I know, Thatcher didn't have a criminal history of any sort. Where is the justice seeking coming from in this case?"
"Someone like Meredith would seek some sort of retribution for not having her father around as a kid, if she were anyone other than Meredith," Derek said as he motioned for Mark to help him turn the body over so he could look for exit wounds.
"For whatever that's worth," Derek added. Then he stood and pulled his gloves off. "No exit wounds. I should be able to find two bullets in him at the morgue."
Mark rubbed the back of his neck, "So the pattern, if this even is our guy, is more erratic."
"Well," Callie motioned towards the Grey sisters talking in hushed tones, "I think if we can get Lexie and Meredith to come back to the station, we can find out if there was more about Thatcher than we know."
Derek scoffed, "Are you saying that you are placing Meredith and Lexie as persons of interest? Why not the girlfriend?" His questioning reminded Callie why tensions always ran high when the family of one of their own had been taken. Everyone second guessed the process.
"Derek," Mark's tone was all that the ME needed to shake his head, the soft curl from his hair falling across his forehead, "I'm sorry, I won't impede the investigation. I'm going to be back at the morgue. I'll," he paused before pushing out a breath, "I'll let Meredith know to head back with you both."
* * *
Lexie leaned back in the metal chair in her interrogation room, exhausted. Her body went limp and she sighed. "Mark, please. Let me get to the lab. We can rush through the analysis on the bullets and see if we get a NIBIN hit. That information is going to be far more helpful to this investigation than sitting here and asking me questions. And I was at work all night, so we all know I didn't do it. Nor would I want to. Please let me go solve my father's murder, Mark!"
Sloan rubbed his beard. "There's nothing you can think of?"
"You ran his history yourself. He was a drunk, irresponsible man, but he was my father and I loved him. He didn't have a criminal record. I know what you're trying to do. I'm not an idiot. I know what's going on with your unsolved alcoholic cases. I work here, too. Talk to me." Rightfully so, Lexie was frustrated. "I need to do something."
* * *
Meredith sipped on the coffee as Callie poured herself a cup. She looked over her shoulder, back to the room she had been sitting in with Lexie, "You know, I keep trying to care about him being dead, but I can't get there." Noticing Callie's arched eyebrow, questioning her, she continued, "He wasn't around and then Lexie popped up in the hospital when her sister was having a baby, and I had sisters who had this perfect family. So, I hated them."
She shuffled her feet back and forth and her canvas tennis shoes squeaked along the tile, "Lexie tried, she always tried more than Thatcher Grey ever did to build a relationship with me. Because Thatcher's relationship was with a highball of scotch." Her pained eyes found Callie's, "He may have been a great Dad at times to her, but he also put her through the same emotional hell that he put me through. I just didn't have to cover up for him." She turned back to the coffee station and picked up a packet of sugar, shaking it roughly back and forth.
Callie watched the absentminded ritual of making the coffee sludge from the station seem more like coffee and less like oil. She realized Meredith must be a professional at it since she worked at the hospital.
"Meredith?" she questioned, "Do you know, did he ever hurt Lexie?"
As a doctor, Meredith knew where this was going. She also lightly questioned patients to see if social services or the police needed to be called when injuries didn't fit stories, "No, I don't believe so. It was all verbal abuse, which can-"
"Hurt worse." Callie nodded. "Thanks."
The door flew open and Lexie stomped out, her dark hair flying as Mark grabbed onto her hand, "Lexie, slow down." He snatched his jacket off the back of his chair and looked at his partner. He hoped the divide and conquer tactic had helped with any lead. Something passed over Callie's eyes and he realized there might be a small lead, he just hoped that ballistics would blow the case open.
* * *
Callie stared at her make-shift piles of papers as she tried to link her unsolved victim cases together: The burned guy in the car, the dude beaten with a softball bat, Mr. Vincent Wells who was sliced open by someone with medical knowledge, a personal trainer crushed under a pile of weights in her own gym, and Thatcher Grey. All alcoholics. All people who had criminal histories... that is, until Thatcher Grey.
Try as she might to focus all of her attention on these five cases, her mind kept wandering. She put more coffee into her system since what she probably really needed was sleep, and once again she found herself thinking about the items stolen from her cars. Not once, but twice. And Thatcher Grey. It was all starting to feel very personal. Callie was afraid that she was no longer being impartial.
And then she thought something very scary, indeed. A chill ran up her spine and gooseflesh spread across her arms simultaneously. She heard a door close behind her in the homicide break room that she had taken over.
"I was told I'd find you in here," Mark said, looking over the papers strewn all over the room.
"What if we know the killer, Mark?" Callie asked, darkness clouding behind her eyes.
Mark's eyes narrowed as he took in Callie's question, "Is this because of the break-in to Amelia and your car?" He shook his head, disagreeing, "Nah, he was just going after you to figure out where we were on the cases."
"No, Mark, the second one was deliberate," she rubbed her face roughly before leaning back in her chair. It groaned in protest as she rocked herself slowly back and forth.
He crossed his arms, "Okay, let's do this then."
She could tell just from his stance that he was only humoring her, "Okay, who are you close to?"
A slight shrug registered through his shoulders and he grumbled, "Do you mean like physically or... well that's pretty much the close that I do, Torres."
"So no one longer than a night?" Callie shot daggers at him. "If you're not going to try to help, get out. You're only slowing me down."
"Fine," he pulled out a chair from the table and sat next to her. "Derek, sometimes. We're on relatively good terms right now. So, in turn, Meredith. And Lexie."
"Meredith and Derek were together last night. Lexie was at work. All of those people have alibis," Callie said, even though it was something they both already knew.
"Your turn," Sloan replied, his tone proving to her that this was a ridiculous exercise.
"You, Arizona, and in turn, Yang."
"Well it's not me," Mark put his hands in the air.
"And Arizona has been with me both times the cars were broken into," Callie replied.
"And Cristina Yang?" Mark asked, going through the motions.
Torres sat in silence for a few moments, trying to think back. "I don't know. She was called out to some of the scenes as a first responder, I think. She might have pulled a double when Amelia was broken into?" Callie's last statement was more of a question.
"How long have you known Yang?" Mark leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he joined his hands together and rested his head on them.
Callie furrowed her brows, "I met her at Joe's, I guess when I changed to Homicide." She turned the tables on him, "What about you and Cristina, did you two ever?"
"Not yet," Mark replied, as if his list only included completed and incoming categories.
Rolling her eyes dramatically, Callie pushed away from the table, "Forget it, Mark. Let's go home and try to get some sleep." She moved her shoulders in a slow circle, hearing the pops and cracks as the joints tried to work out the long day. "We'll come back at start of shift and hopefully have the firearms report."
"Torres," Mark cocked his head for a moment before continuing, "I don't mean this in the wrong way, but could it be someone from your old division?"
Callie frowned, "A cop?"
"We did say that they have knowledge of police procedure," she shook her head, "It doesn't fit the medical bit on the Wells case."
Mark stared at her as she took in a breath, "Medical knowledge." Callie felt a sinking feeling in her stomach at the prospect.
"I'll look into it. Get home and check in on Arizona,” Sloan said protectively.
She didn't mention that it was one of the few times that Mark had mentioned her girlfriend by name. Because the kindness that Mark was showing her in this moment scared her more than his usual coy regard for her relationship.
* * *
Callie shuffled into her apartment and locked the deadbolt before heading directly to the couch and collapsing on it, face down. Arizona watched the scene unfold and asked, "Rough day?"
"You have no idea," Callie mumbled directly into a pillow. "Lexie Grey's father was shot and killed. Mark and I worked the case."
Arizona's lips curled back as her nose crinkled, "Doesn't that sound like a conflict of interest?"
"I'm certainly conflicted about a lot of things," Callie agreed, still talking into her pillow.
Arizona pulled Callie into her arms, "I can't understand you like that. Come here."
They both leaned back into the couch. Arizona softly tugged the hair tie off of Callie's french braid and started to work the hair loose, "The workday is easing away now." Her fingers slid through the unencumbered hair, leaning down to the forehead nestled into her chest, she let out a soft humming noise, "See, there is my Calliope. You're in a safe spot now."
"Mmmmm," Callie relaxed a bit, letting down her guard and some of the day's stress seep from her tense muscles and conflicted heart.
"Have you talked to Yang recently?" Callie questioned.
"This morning. No, wait..." Arizona thought for a moment. "I guess the last I saw her was after work the other day. After the whole handcuff fiasco. I haven't spoken to her since she went to the junkyard with me. And then today I did the traffic and fixed your car." She waited for a response and when it didn't come said, "You're welcome by the way."
Callie reached for Arizona's hand and threaded their fingers together. She dropped a kiss on the back of Arizona's palm, "Thank you, for fixing her up. I could have taken her to a shop." Her tone was distracted as Arizona hadn't been able to give an alibi for Yang's whereabouts during Thatcher's murder.
Leaning to her left, Arizona tried to catch Callie's eye line, but was failing. As much as Callie had relaxed, she tensed back up after Arizona's last comments. "Did I do something?" Arizona questioned.
"What?" Callie's eyes snapped up towards her face as she was pulled out of her train of thought.
Arizona repeated herself, "Did I do something? I mean, you can check on the car if you are worried about it."
"It's not the car, Arizona," Callie said, distractedly, the neurons in her brain firing along a different train of thought. She hadn't known either Arizona or Yang before the first call. Was it coincidence that they met that day, or something more?
"Then what is, it? I thought you'd be happy. I thought you'd want to go see it. Take a drive. Relax a little tonight." Arizona tapped Callie's shoulder. "Hello?"
She shook her head and sat up on the edge of the couch. Facing the window from the front room, the rain seemed to be getting worse instead of better, the clouds made it seem like the night was stretching onwards and that Callie was stuck in a waking nightmare. Arizona scooted up behind her on the couch, a hand running lightly up and down Callie's back. She recognized it as a calming gesture, but it was only making her anxiety bubble through.
"When we first met, how long had you been flying, for Seattle...?"
Arizona's brow furrowed, slightly confused, "Not too long. Callie what is this about?"
Staring ahead she continued, "And Yang, was she always your medic?"
"We were partnered together from my start. She'd been here much longer than me, obviously." Arizona's hand fell into her own lap and Callie turned to look directly at her for the first time since the conversation started.
"What was your first impression?"
Arizona eyeballed her, wondering what the sudden interest in Cristina Yang was all about. "My first impression? She was precise, blunt, and decisive. She was usually professional, if her mouth didn't get in the way, and she got the job done. She actually reminded me a lot of a bunk mate in boot camp. But first impressions aren't always correct, Callie," Arizona thought back to that specific bunk mate for a moment, then continued. "Yang's so much more complicated than that. In her own way she's deeply caring, loyal, and extremely kind."
Nodding, Callie wondered if she should continue, but she kept coming back to the look that Mark gave her when he told her to go home and check on Arizona. She decided to change her tactic, "Do you have any vacation days? I bet that Reese would love to see you on her side of the country."
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Arizona pulled back from the cop sitting in front of her wondering when exactly this slipped into an interrogation. Something was wrong and Callie wasn't telling her what it was. "I thought the policemen's ball was coming up. I thought we were going. I thought you couldn't wait to show me off. What is going on, Callie?"
Pushing herself up off the couch, Callie threw her arms out, "I don't know for sure, but I don't want you to be around Yang anymore, Arizona." She rubbed her hand roughly along her forehead, trying to decide what she could share and what she shouldn't. "I just…” she stopped, "please just… I can't have you here. Let me protect you how I know to protect you."
She knew from the flash of anger that moved over Arizona's face that perhaps the word protect was the wrong word to use toward a Marine.
A hand jutted out toward her as Arizona scoffed, "Stop. Be honest with me. I'm a big girl, Calliope. I know what and who I can handle."
Callie's frustration at the situation boiled over, "Look, I can’t, Arizona. I'm in the middle of an on-going investigation and I simply can't talk to you about this!"
Arizona stood to level their faceoff. "So you're telling me that Cristina Yang is somehow suspect in your unsolved murders? Have you gone completely batshit crazy? Why would you even ever consider it?"
"We're not talking about this," Callie said, turning her back on Arizona and walking into the other room. She mentally kicked herself for revealing any information at all. It was a bad idea to try to learn about Yang through someone she was so close to, especially in an unofficial setting. Stupid.
"The hell we're not!" Arizona yelled, following her into the bedroom.
Callie worked angrily on her duty belt and whipped it violently onto the duvet. She turned and saw Arizona standing at the edge of the bed with her arms crossed over her chest. Awesome. "Just forget about it. It was a rough, emotional day and I got worried, okay?"
"And worried instantly means that you have to ship me off to no man's land? I've been there Callie, Seattle is much safer."
"I don't want you here!" Callie said roughly, her arms shaking with words she didn't mean.
"Oh, really? Because I quite distinctly remember you telling me that people always leave you. That you have abandonment issues. Do you want to know why, Calliope? Because you push them away!"
Her mouth dropped open as if Arizona had slapped her physically and for all intents and purposes she had, "I know that it might be a foreign concept to you, but in relationships people actually give their girlfriend the benefit of the doubt." She chuckled coarsely, "Oh wait, you've never had one before, right? Just a lay here and there."
"Go ahead," Arizona said, pushing hair out of her eyes. "Go ahead. I can take it. You don't think I've heard worse in the closed-minded pig-headed boys club I belonged to for years? You think that I haven't already been called every revolting name in the book?" Arizona took a breath and continued, "That's not what's at issue here. My life choices prevented me from doing a lot of the things that I wanted to do over the years, but I'm not going to let you ruin what we have now. Not when I don't know why. Not when you refuse to talk to me. I thought relationships were about honest and open communication!" Arizona reached down and grabbed Callie's wrist, forgetting that it was probably still just as raw as her own from the handcuff incident several nights ago.
Wincing slightly, Callie twisted her arm only to have Arizona step in closer to her, just Arizona's proximity was enough to send a wave of calm over her. She closed her eyes and dropped her head, energy sagging out of her, "I'm being as honest as I can be right now." A flash of light cut through the dark bedroom and crack of thunder reverberated in the room. Callie felt the panic rise again when she thought about Arizona being in harm's way.
"Can't you just humor me?" she asked quietly.
"Callie," Arizona said evenly, "I'm not going to humor your half-cocked theory that my best friend has been murdering multiple people. You have to see that it's crazy. Have you even talked to her? Look, we can call her right now and clear up this whole mess. She couldn't have done it."
Callie shook her head, "I have this awful feeling in my gut, Arizona. The more I learn, the worse it gets. I can't imagine you being anywhere near her. And before I question her, I need more information. You cannot say anything to her. If she flees..."
"She won't flee because she hasn't done anything but save lives by my side every day." Arizona's hand jutted down with her last words to prove a point, "We save lives Callie. Accusing Cristina? You might as well say it was me."
Her gaze swept over the floor and caught sight of a pair of boots. Arizona moved quickly to them snagging up the tattered Marine issued gortex boots. She plunged her foot into it and could swear she still felt sand.
"What are you doing?" Callie's demeanor changed, frustration making way for anger.
Arizona tugged on the fraying laces, "You told me to leave, so I'm going to get out of your hair. You don't have to worry about me anymore."
"I'm sorry, okay?" Callie stood in front of the bedroom door, Arizona's only exit. "I would never accuse you of something like this. I know that you save lives. Your whole life has been focused on it. That's why you should be concerned about whatever Cristina's doing!"
Arizona pulled on her second boot, "I will not have you turn me against her!" She didn't even take the time to tie the laces and bolted upright, "Get out of my way, Callie."
Her only answer was an impression of an immovable object from Callie, "No."
Turning back into the room, Arizona pulled the closet door open and yanked her flak jacket off the hanger. The resounding chimes from the hangers hitting each other seemed harsh to her ears. She turned back to Callie and made a move for the doorway again, "Move."
"You're going for a ride?" Callie motioned to the windows, "It's a downpour out there."
Arizona stood toe to toe to her, "Move."
"Absolutely not," Callie said, a stern expression on her face. "The paramedics will be scraping you off of the interstate if you leave like this."
"And God forbid, No - Callie Torres has forbidden me from seeing any paramedics!" She shouldered her way past Callie, who followed close behind.
"Arizona -"
The front door opened quickly, and Arizona rushed down the stairs to the street. The rain pelted her face and hair as she struggled into the jacket on and zipped it up. She cursed to herself as she realized that her helmet was inside the apartment, but as she glanced back up the stoop, she knew there was no way to get in and out again without a physical fight.
Callie was still in pursuit, barefoot, and now just as drenched through, as Arizona threw her leg over her bike. Flipping the kickstand up with one leg, she punched down on the starter and heard the rumble of her bike match that of the rolling thunder. Beautiful.
"Arizona, do not do this..." Callie had reached the side alley where she had parked.
"It's too late, Callie." She revved the engine, drowning out everything else Callie was screaming to her over the engine noise and pelting rain. Water dripped from her hair, her eyebrows, the end of her nose, and with one last look at Callie, she took off.
Watching the taillight recede in the distance, Callie realized that her own tears were mixing with the cold rain. Arizona's tires slipped on water pooling on the roadway for a second, water spraying up behind her back, before catching traction again. She took a right turn and disappeared from view, Callie's heart hammering in her chest.
She was losing grip on everything that mattered.
* * *
Meredith's face held a ghost of a smile as she offered a steaming cup of tea to Mark. "I know it's not coffee, but sometimes it's just about holding the cup, isn't it?"
He held her gaze for a while, seeing pieces of Lexie in her before they both looked back into the bedroom at the small frame curled up on the bed. "She'll come back from this right, Grey?"
Meredith shrugged. "We all have things to overcome. I think we mostly do."
Mark starred into his tea, right to the bottom of the cup. "I don't know what to do. I always know what to do," he stated evenly.
Meredith just sat there with him quietly. She found that mostly it's what people needed. And if they wanted more, she usually didn't know how to offer it.
They both were brought out of their reverie as strains of loud guitar riffs filtered through the room. Lexie's form moved quickly on the bed as she blindly reached for her phone on the bedside table, "Hello?"
Mark looked at Meredith with an arched brow and mouthed to her in amusement, "The Who?"
She nodded and rolled her eyes, "She thinks it's funny."
Mark grinned warmly, leave it to the young, enthusiastic Grey to equally make fun of and both love the show that she ripped apart for the inaccuracies in her profession.
"Are you sure about that, Steve?" Lexie's voice focused them both back onto the slumped form on the bed. "Okay. No, he's here, I'll let him know."
Lexie got out of bed and padded into the living room on bare feet. "Mark?" she asked quietly.
"What's going on?" Mark asked, standing from the couch and approaching her side.
"I just got a call from the firearms lab. They got a NIBIN hit on the bullets they pulled from my dad."
Mark could tell that she was shaky and put his arm around her, bracing for the news.
"It came back to a police issued pistol. A Glock 22, 40 caliber, registered to Detective Callie Torres."
* * *
She wasn't sure how long she had stood outside, but as Callie walked into the apartment, the water dripped onto the floors as she slowly stripped the clothes off into a pile in the vestibule. Her eyes caught on the wine glass on the table in the front room that Arizona had barely started in on, traces of her light pink lipstick pressed against the glass leaving the ghost of a kiss.
The water still ran in slow streams down her arms from her hair as she numbly walked down the hallway to the bedroom. She crawled onto the bed and closed her eyes. Callie took a deep breath and could smell the mix of shampoos that Arizona used on the pillowcase. Her breath rattled as her phone buzzed from the foot of the bed. She pushed herself up, and grabbed for cell, hoping that it was Arizona letting her know that she was safe at home.
Instead she saw Mark's name, "Torres," she answered.
"Callie, the firearms report came back, meet me at the station."
He paused and she knew that he was holding back something, "Mark?"
The drawn out sigh made her finally feel the full effect of the rain. Her body took in the chills that ran along her skin, but she wasn't sure that it was all from the weather, or from how Arizona had left.
"It was your piece, Callie."
From the primordial soup the first organism slipped from, to the world as we know it today, there has never been time without the ferocious forces of nature acting upon unsuspecting victims, followed by the fury and uncontrollable emotions of man. Wars have been waged. Winners proclaimed. But how long until the champion falls?
By taintedidealist and drink46
Disclaimer:We own nothing and borrow lots. No, really... lots. Like the characters of Callie Torres, Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan, Cristina Yang, Lexie Grey, Miranda Bailey, Derek Shepherd, George O'Malley, and possibly every other character past or present on Grey's Anatomy which are the sole intellectual property of Shonda Rhimes, Shondaland and ABC. All ideas for this story are from our collaborative brains and influenced by many other TV shows and movies, most notably Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Castle, Law and Order and CSI. This is purely for entertainment purposes and sadly, no profit is being gained.
Ratings: Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. This story will likely contain adult themes, activity, and language; violence; suspense; torture; drug abuse; and sexual situations or sexually-oriented nudity. But not all at the same time or all in this episode.
Feedback: Yes, please. I mean... we're not that needy. Much. We'll totally love you forever if we know you're reading and even marginally enjoying it. Without feedback, there is no love for you and less enjoyment in writing for us.
Story Information: This is Alternative Universe fanfiction. None of the characters have the occupations that Shonda Rhimes intended. We simply asked ourselves how career choices can change the directions of the characters' lives, but not who they are as a person. Callie Torres, Mark Sloan, and Miranda Bailey work for the Seattle Police Department. Captain Arizona Robbins and Cristina Yang are paramedics. Lexie Grey is a crime scene technician. Crime, injuries, and death occur in their city as Callie and Arizona get to know one another on a more personal level.
Episode One: Every New Beginning
Episode Two: Everyone is Waiting
Episode Three: Inhale Exhale
Episode Four: Connection
Episode Five: Pinch Me
Episode Six: Afterglow
Episode Seven: The Story So Far
Episode Eight: Heavy in Your Arms
Episode Nine: Lost and Found
Episode Ten: Bang Bang
Conflict has existed since the beginning of time. You could even say that the beginning of time was rather violent. According to the big bang, an extremely hot, dense, rapidly expanding state is what first created the universe. And there has been hostility ever since.
Arizona tugged her motorcycle jacket on over her shoulders as she quickly walked through the hallways of KING 5 studios. Her hair was slightly damp from the beginnings of a downpour that, as the chirpy weather woman had announced, would only get heavier as the day wore on.
"But you understand what I'm saying, right, Arizona? She moved directly into my camera space." The clicking of heels that had to have cost more than her monthly take home pay followed her at a double time clip.
She couldn't get away from her or the conversation she didn't want to be in, "I don't think it was intentional, Addison."
Before she knew it, a hand curved around her shoulder and pulled her to a stop, "Oh, she did it on purpose. Teddy is just goading me on air. Did you hear her opening and closing bites today?"
Arizona nodded as she tried to stay out of the feud between the morning co-anchors. "Yeah, but I mean, you have to get the numbers up, right?"
"KING 5, The women you want to wake up with?" Addison jutted out her hip, the pencil line skirt accentuating her form.
Arizona's tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she tried to think of something to neutralize the spitfire in front of her, "It was creative?"
Snorting, Addison rolled her eyes in defeat, "Fine, but the sign off: For more T and A, check back tomorrow?"
"Teddy and Addison," Arizona waved her hands. "That's all she meant by it."
"My ass..." Addison pouted and Arizona stifled a laugh. "I am trying to be a professional woman. Do you know how hard it is to be a woman in this field and be taken seriously?"
Arizona smiled weakly and rubbed Addison's shoulder. "Just relax. She's playing an angle. You know that sex sells and if it bleeds, it leads. She's only following the very formula the media projects. Besides, I wouldn't mind waking up with either one of you in the morning... you know, if I kept normal hours."
A lopsided grin moved across Addison's face as she narrowed her eyes, "If I didn't know you had a girlfriend already, I'd think you were hitting on me." She paused in thought for a moment, "Actually, I'm going to take that as you hitting on me. I need some spring in my step." Quickly leaning forward, a kiss was dropped on Arizona's cheek. Pulling back, she winced, slightly rubbing at the bright red lipstick mark.
Wearily, Arizona yelled after Addison in her retreat, "Glad I could help." Then she took off toward the parking garage, mumbling under her breath, "I've gotta get out of this place."
As she entered the stairwell, her phone rang. Caller ID told her it was Callie, and she quickly answered.
"I saw you on the traffic report this morning," Callie's voice chirped to her through the handset speaker, in lieu of a greeting.
"You did?" Arizona's voice warmed in surprise, "I thought you were still working."
"Oh," Callie hated to be the one to disappoint, "I am. The television in the break room was on. There were some guys that liked the morning eye candy, and with that bridge jumper story, one of the newbies wanted to see himself on television. So, I got a glimpse of you. They're right, great eye candy. You're hot in that helicopter, Captain."
A disgruntled breath pushed out of Arizona, as she saw that in the hour it took to wrap up flight check, work her way through the station, and get to the garage, that the rain was now more aggressive. Instead of the weather, she focused back on Callie, "I didn't even get to wear my new aviators this morning with the clouds, and next to the rest of the women I…" she stopped herself briefly and nodded, "Am hot. I am so hot, in fact, that I might be too famous for you."
"Sydney Sullivan won't go out with a lowly police detective? That's okay. I'm much more interested in Captain Arizona Robbins. Naked. In my apartment. What time do you think she'll be there? Because I get off in..." Callie looked at her watch, "about twenty minutes."
"Oh, do you?" Arizona's voice lilted playfully. "Because I actually was planning on being dirty when you got home." She pushed through the door of the station, happy to be in the small parking garage today, "So dirty that I just might need a long, hot shower."
"Torres, hang up the phone," Arizona heard Mark faintly in the background.
"Hang on," Callie said into the phone. "Mark, shut up. This is important."
Arizona heard some muffled talking, some static on the line, and then Callie's voice telling her that there was a change in plans.
Tugging her helmet off of the handle bar of her bike, Arizona nodded, "Okay, but I'll still be needing a shower when you get home. I'm going to fix your Thunderbird; get it flying again." She paused for a moment, realizing that even though she was used to Callie’s line of work being dangerous, it still brought some anxiety over her well-being, "Be safe. I'll see you at home."
"I like the sound of that," Callie smiled and hung up her phone. "What, Mark? What?" she yelled at him impatiently as soon as Arizona was off of the line.
* * *
"Please be advised, I have a 911 caller reporting a shooting and possible dead male at North 2nd Avenue and Roy Street. This is a code one emergency and possible ten-eighty-one. I need a nearest location on all available units. What's your twenty?"
Lexie walked closer to the radio as she heard cross streets that were all too familiar to her. Blowing lightly on her tea cup, she mindlessly let the bag dip in and out of the water. She was never good at steeping, she forever needed to be moving, somehow nervous energy always escaped out of her. Her mother said she reminded her of a hyper Yorkshire terrier, yipping loudly.
"Dispatch, this is 359 and 416. We are heading south on Elliott Ave, coming up on Mercer. We're ten-seventy-six, two minutes out. Did the caller give a number on the address, or are we looking at the street?"
"359, please be advised the address we have is 701 North 2nd Avenue. EMS unit has been dispatched."
Lexie dropped her tea in shock, hot liquid splashing over her cargo work pants and pooling onto the floor at her feet. A moment later, she was rushing out of the front door and into her personal vehicle, fumbling with first her keys, then the door and seat belt. In a blur, mindlessly, she floored the car out of the parking lot, the back end fishtailing as it entered the wet road.
701 North 2nd Avenue. Possible ten-eighty-one. Mark's voice responding to the call. Her brain started putting the pieces together for her as she raced down the street. She was the ten-eighty-one: Department member's family is involved. Shooting. Possible dead male. At her father's house.
* * *
The Kia Sportage's breaks squealed as she rounded the corner onto 2nd avenue. The rain, steady as she left the CSU department, was now coming in stronger waves. She pulled up to the curb and took a deep breath. The lights to the ambulance were not running. Two forms stood under the awning of the front porch, looking out onto the street.
There had to be reasons that the ambulance was still at the scene. Maybe the bullet grazed by and was just a flesh wound. Her father probably refused the ride for the benefit of the taxpayer. He always liked to get in a dig about taking services when they were not needed.
Reasonable explanations, they had to be there, because otherwise it meant something different entirely.
A small beat up truck was in the driveway and she recoiled at the sight, understanding that Danielle, her father's new 'girlfriend' was there as well.
"Fantastic," Lexie grumbled to herself, focusing on the annoyance that the relationship her father had with this new woman, who was a tattooed version of Malibu Barbie, nestled into her life. "Okay Lex, let's get in and fix this."
She took a moment to steady herself and then stepped out of her car, into the rain. Crossing her arms, she walked quickly across the front lawn, toward the front porch steps. As she approached, the people before her took on more familiar shapes.
When he realized that she was nearing the house, and hadn't arrived with a department vehicle, Mark Sloan met her in the front yard. As the rain fell on both of them, he took in her worried expression and wasn't sure how to break the news. But, she was already here, so he realized that she probably already feared the worst.
Without a word, he slipped off his department issued jacket and slipped it over her shoulders to try to protect her from the rain. There was no protecting her from what she would see inside.
"Lexie," the tone of voice that Callie was using with her as she stepped forward already made the blood in her veins freeze. She felt Mark's hands running up and down her back before he tugged the coat tighter around her, popping the collar to protect her exposed neck from the weather.
"Can you call Meredith? Or, is there anyone that you need to be here?" Callie's questions fell on deaf ears as Lexie looked passed her, at the bottle blonde wiping at the tears falling down her face, mascara trails cutting through her caked on makeup.
"Where is my father?"
Mark cleared his throat and dipped his head down, trying to get Lexie's eyes back to his face, "Lexie, it appears that there has been a shooting."
"Don't try to sugar coat this, Mark. I heard dispatch. I heard the call," Lexie said, trembling. "Is he alive?"
Mark stood in silence. Lexie's question was unanswered until Callie stepped in. "I'm sorry, Lexie," Callie said. Before she could say anything further, Lexie was already running for the door, past her father's sobbing girlfriend, and into the house. Mark sprinted after her to try to contain the crime scene.
But Lexie was too professional to get in the way. Two emergency medical technicians were leaving as she arrived. Her father had obviously been dead on their arrival, and the medical examiner was being called in.
"Oh, God," Lexie whispered to herself. "Meredith."
Bringing her hand to her mouth, she stifled a sob. Her watery eyes leveled on Mark, "What happened?"
"The girlfriend, Danielle, said that she had been out late with friends in from high school, came home, and found him like this... she called 911 and until we find out more from the ME, then…" he laid a hand softly on her shoulder, "I'm sorry. Lexie."
"We was shot?" Lexie's body began to shake visibly, and Mark ushered her to a stiff back wooden chair and made her sit down. "Why would anyone shoot him?"
"Did he have any enemies? Disgruntled co-workers, employees, acquaintances?" Mark asked her calmly, in quiet tones. He wanted to be able to solve Thatcher Grey's case quickly, but he knew Lexie's dad's history all too well. Catching Callie's eye, he flashed her a look that spoke volumes to her.
"Lexie, was your father an alcoholic?" she asked, already fearing the answer.
Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment in confusion, "What do you mean?" Lexie glanced back and forth between Callie and Sloan. "My father was an alcoholic, but he was going to AA," she gestured to the now sobbing girl curled up on the loveseat, "He met Danielle there, even. He was sober. Why is this even relevant to anything?"
Callie lowered her head. The serial attacks were getting more frequent. The killer was escalating and it was up to her and Sloan to stop him. Without answering any of Lexie's questions, Callie headed toward Danielle for questioning.
"Excuse me, Danielle?" Callie questioned warmly.
The young woman with dirty blonde hair sniffled loudly and wiped at her eyes. Callie looked at the tear tracks running down Danielle's cheeks, cutting through the mascara and foundation. The tears seemed to be washing away all remnants of the evening out that the girlfriend had told them through sobs for the medics on scene.
She pulled her legs up underneath her, forming a sort of fetal position; a lot of loved ones would take on this posture when finding a body. Trying to comfort themselves, as their loved one could no longer do so.
Callie kindly smiled, "I just want to clarify a few things with you, if that's okay?"
Danielle nodded brushing her side swept bangs back behind her ear, "Sure," her eye line shifted and Callie glanced behind herself. Mark was rubbing slowly up and down Lexie's back as he spoke into a cell phone. Bringing her attention back to her witness she cleared her throat before Danielle interrupted, "Did she blame me?"
Shaking her head from side to side, Callie answered swiftly, "No, she didn't." Crouching down, Callie looked up at the woman and smiled again, "So, you were out of the house tonight with friends?"
"Yes. Look, I already told you all of this. There was a downpour so we decided to ride it out at the bar until closing, and my friend lives right across the street and I couldn't drive at that point anyway, so I just stayed at Jamie's." Danielle did not make eye contact with Callie, and was instead watching Lexie and Sloan.
"And is it unusual for you to not come home, or not call if you're not coming home?" Callie pressed forward.
"I did call," she nodded. "Thatcher didn't answer, but that's not unusual." She started sobbing more uncontrollably. "Oh, God, he was already dead then, wasn't he? I should have come home!"
Reaching out for her hand, Callie's voice dipped into a lower register, sounding warmer and more comforting, a trick of the trade, "We don't know that for sure. Now Danielle, did you notice anyone new or suspicious around the house or neighborhood?" She could see her focusing on the questions her eyes rolled up, trying to run through the mind's eye. "Anything threatening or out of the usual happen to either of you recently."
"No, nothing is jumping out at me or any one person."
Callie decided to dig into her theory a bit, "Lexie had mentioned something about AA, was Thatcher still going?"
The question seemed to be a slap to the woman as she sat back roughly, "Of course he was, we both were. Thatcher was faithful to the program."
"Anything come up in AA? New people, something odd?" Callie's hand was starting to hurt, Danielle was holding it so tight. Callie smiled warmly and rubbed the top of her witness's hand.
"There are new people in and out all the time, but nothing that stands out." Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm not helping at all," she said sadly, shaking her head.
"No, you're doing great. That's enough questions for now, anyway." Callie stood and Danielle dropped her hand. Outside, she saw Derek pull into the driveway, and Meredith Grey got out of the passenger seat and started for the house.
Turning back to the bereft girl, she sighed, "Is there anyone we can call for you? A friend?"
A tight smile and strangled laugh came out of her, "Actually my friend Maggie is coming here. I'm going to stay at her place. It's weird, I never thought she'd be the one to be there for me."
Callie nodded, "People can surprise you."
She looked at the two sisters hugging and saw as Lexie broke down, not able to hold together a facade once Meredith pulled her into an embrace. Derek stood in the corner pulling on gloves as he kicked his head back for the detectives to join him.
"What am I looking for, Detectives?"
"Thatcher Grey was shot and killed last night," Mark said plainly. "No known suspect or motive at this time, but if you're a betting man, odds are good we can link this to our anti-alcohol vigilante."
Derek nodded as he leaned over the body and pulled up his shirt to find the bullet wounds. "Looks like two shots to the chest."
"My only problem with linking this to the serials," Torres said, "is that as far as I know, Thatcher didn't have a criminal history of any sort. Where is the justice seeking coming from in this case?"
"Someone like Meredith would seek some sort of retribution for not having her father around as a kid, if she were anyone other than Meredith," Derek said as he motioned for Mark to help him turn the body over so he could look for exit wounds.
"For whatever that's worth," Derek added. Then he stood and pulled his gloves off. "No exit wounds. I should be able to find two bullets in him at the morgue."
Mark rubbed the back of his neck, "So the pattern, if this even is our guy, is more erratic."
"Well," Callie motioned towards the Grey sisters talking in hushed tones, "I think if we can get Lexie and Meredith to come back to the station, we can find out if there was more about Thatcher than we know."
Derek scoffed, "Are you saying that you are placing Meredith and Lexie as persons of interest? Why not the girlfriend?" His questioning reminded Callie why tensions always ran high when the family of one of their own had been taken. Everyone second guessed the process.
"Derek," Mark's tone was all that the ME needed to shake his head, the soft curl from his hair falling across his forehead, "I'm sorry, I won't impede the investigation. I'm going to be back at the morgue. I'll," he paused before pushing out a breath, "I'll let Meredith know to head back with you both."
* * *
Lexie leaned back in the metal chair in her interrogation room, exhausted. Her body went limp and she sighed. "Mark, please. Let me get to the lab. We can rush through the analysis on the bullets and see if we get a NIBIN hit. That information is going to be far more helpful to this investigation than sitting here and asking me questions. And I was at work all night, so we all know I didn't do it. Nor would I want to. Please let me go solve my father's murder, Mark!"
Sloan rubbed his beard. "There's nothing you can think of?"
"You ran his history yourself. He was a drunk, irresponsible man, but he was my father and I loved him. He didn't have a criminal record. I know what you're trying to do. I'm not an idiot. I know what's going on with your unsolved alcoholic cases. I work here, too. Talk to me." Rightfully so, Lexie was frustrated. "I need to do something."
* * *
Meredith sipped on the coffee as Callie poured herself a cup. She looked over her shoulder, back to the room she had been sitting in with Lexie, "You know, I keep trying to care about him being dead, but I can't get there." Noticing Callie's arched eyebrow, questioning her, she continued, "He wasn't around and then Lexie popped up in the hospital when her sister was having a baby, and I had sisters who had this perfect family. So, I hated them."
She shuffled her feet back and forth and her canvas tennis shoes squeaked along the tile, "Lexie tried, she always tried more than Thatcher Grey ever did to build a relationship with me. Because Thatcher's relationship was with a highball of scotch." Her pained eyes found Callie's, "He may have been a great Dad at times to her, but he also put her through the same emotional hell that he put me through. I just didn't have to cover up for him." She turned back to the coffee station and picked up a packet of sugar, shaking it roughly back and forth.
Callie watched the absentminded ritual of making the coffee sludge from the station seem more like coffee and less like oil. She realized Meredith must be a professional at it since she worked at the hospital.
"Meredith?" she questioned, "Do you know, did he ever hurt Lexie?"
As a doctor, Meredith knew where this was going. She also lightly questioned patients to see if social services or the police needed to be called when injuries didn't fit stories, "No, I don't believe so. It was all verbal abuse, which can-"
"Hurt worse." Callie nodded. "Thanks."
The door flew open and Lexie stomped out, her dark hair flying as Mark grabbed onto her hand, "Lexie, slow down." He snatched his jacket off the back of his chair and looked at his partner. He hoped the divide and conquer tactic had helped with any lead. Something passed over Callie's eyes and he realized there might be a small lead, he just hoped that ballistics would blow the case open.
* * *
Callie stared at her make-shift piles of papers as she tried to link her unsolved victim cases together: The burned guy in the car, the dude beaten with a softball bat, Mr. Vincent Wells who was sliced open by someone with medical knowledge, a personal trainer crushed under a pile of weights in her own gym, and Thatcher Grey. All alcoholics. All people who had criminal histories... that is, until Thatcher Grey.
Try as she might to focus all of her attention on these five cases, her mind kept wandering. She put more coffee into her system since what she probably really needed was sleep, and once again she found herself thinking about the items stolen from her cars. Not once, but twice. And Thatcher Grey. It was all starting to feel very personal. Callie was afraid that she was no longer being impartial.
And then she thought something very scary, indeed. A chill ran up her spine and gooseflesh spread across her arms simultaneously. She heard a door close behind her in the homicide break room that she had taken over.
"I was told I'd find you in here," Mark said, looking over the papers strewn all over the room.
"What if we know the killer, Mark?" Callie asked, darkness clouding behind her eyes.
Mark's eyes narrowed as he took in Callie's question, "Is this because of the break-in to Amelia and your car?" He shook his head, disagreeing, "Nah, he was just going after you to figure out where we were on the cases."
"No, Mark, the second one was deliberate," she rubbed her face roughly before leaning back in her chair. It groaned in protest as she rocked herself slowly back and forth.
He crossed his arms, "Okay, let's do this then."
She could tell just from his stance that he was only humoring her, "Okay, who are you close to?"
A slight shrug registered through his shoulders and he grumbled, "Do you mean like physically or... well that's pretty much the close that I do, Torres."
"So no one longer than a night?" Callie shot daggers at him. "If you're not going to try to help, get out. You're only slowing me down."
"Fine," he pulled out a chair from the table and sat next to her. "Derek, sometimes. We're on relatively good terms right now. So, in turn, Meredith. And Lexie."
"Meredith and Derek were together last night. Lexie was at work. All of those people have alibis," Callie said, even though it was something they both already knew.
"Your turn," Sloan replied, his tone proving to her that this was a ridiculous exercise.
"You, Arizona, and in turn, Yang."
"Well it's not me," Mark put his hands in the air.
"And Arizona has been with me both times the cars were broken into," Callie replied.
"And Cristina Yang?" Mark asked, going through the motions.
Torres sat in silence for a few moments, trying to think back. "I don't know. She was called out to some of the scenes as a first responder, I think. She might have pulled a double when Amelia was broken into?" Callie's last statement was more of a question.
"How long have you known Yang?" Mark leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he joined his hands together and rested his head on them.
Callie furrowed her brows, "I met her at Joe's, I guess when I changed to Homicide." She turned the tables on him, "What about you and Cristina, did you two ever?"
"Not yet," Mark replied, as if his list only included completed and incoming categories.
Rolling her eyes dramatically, Callie pushed away from the table, "Forget it, Mark. Let's go home and try to get some sleep." She moved her shoulders in a slow circle, hearing the pops and cracks as the joints tried to work out the long day. "We'll come back at start of shift and hopefully have the firearms report."
"Torres," Mark cocked his head for a moment before continuing, "I don't mean this in the wrong way, but could it be someone from your old division?"
Callie frowned, "A cop?"
"We did say that they have knowledge of police procedure," she shook her head, "It doesn't fit the medical bit on the Wells case."
Mark stared at her as she took in a breath, "Medical knowledge." Callie felt a sinking feeling in her stomach at the prospect.
"I'll look into it. Get home and check in on Arizona,” Sloan said protectively.
She didn't mention that it was one of the few times that Mark had mentioned her girlfriend by name. Because the kindness that Mark was showing her in this moment scared her more than his usual coy regard for her relationship.
* * *
Callie shuffled into her apartment and locked the deadbolt before heading directly to the couch and collapsing on it, face down. Arizona watched the scene unfold and asked, "Rough day?"
"You have no idea," Callie mumbled directly into a pillow. "Lexie Grey's father was shot and killed. Mark and I worked the case."
Arizona's lips curled back as her nose crinkled, "Doesn't that sound like a conflict of interest?"
"I'm certainly conflicted about a lot of things," Callie agreed, still talking into her pillow.
Arizona pulled Callie into her arms, "I can't understand you like that. Come here."
They both leaned back into the couch. Arizona softly tugged the hair tie off of Callie's french braid and started to work the hair loose, "The workday is easing away now." Her fingers slid through the unencumbered hair, leaning down to the forehead nestled into her chest, she let out a soft humming noise, "See, there is my Calliope. You're in a safe spot now."
"Mmmmm," Callie relaxed a bit, letting down her guard and some of the day's stress seep from her tense muscles and conflicted heart.
"Have you talked to Yang recently?" Callie questioned.
"This morning. No, wait..." Arizona thought for a moment. "I guess the last I saw her was after work the other day. After the whole handcuff fiasco. I haven't spoken to her since she went to the junkyard with me. And then today I did the traffic and fixed your car." She waited for a response and when it didn't come said, "You're welcome by the way."
Callie reached for Arizona's hand and threaded their fingers together. She dropped a kiss on the back of Arizona's palm, "Thank you, for fixing her up. I could have taken her to a shop." Her tone was distracted as Arizona hadn't been able to give an alibi for Yang's whereabouts during Thatcher's murder.
Leaning to her left, Arizona tried to catch Callie's eye line, but was failing. As much as Callie had relaxed, she tensed back up after Arizona's last comments. "Did I do something?" Arizona questioned.
"What?" Callie's eyes snapped up towards her face as she was pulled out of her train of thought.
Arizona repeated herself, "Did I do something? I mean, you can check on the car if you are worried about it."
"It's not the car, Arizona," Callie said, distractedly, the neurons in her brain firing along a different train of thought. She hadn't known either Arizona or Yang before the first call. Was it coincidence that they met that day, or something more?
"Then what is, it? I thought you'd be happy. I thought you'd want to go see it. Take a drive. Relax a little tonight." Arizona tapped Callie's shoulder. "Hello?"
She shook her head and sat up on the edge of the couch. Facing the window from the front room, the rain seemed to be getting worse instead of better, the clouds made it seem like the night was stretching onwards and that Callie was stuck in a waking nightmare. Arizona scooted up behind her on the couch, a hand running lightly up and down Callie's back. She recognized it as a calming gesture, but it was only making her anxiety bubble through.
"When we first met, how long had you been flying, for Seattle...?"
Arizona's brow furrowed, slightly confused, "Not too long. Callie what is this about?"
Staring ahead she continued, "And Yang, was she always your medic?"
"We were partnered together from my start. She'd been here much longer than me, obviously." Arizona's hand fell into her own lap and Callie turned to look directly at her for the first time since the conversation started.
"What was your first impression?"
Arizona eyeballed her, wondering what the sudden interest in Cristina Yang was all about. "My first impression? She was precise, blunt, and decisive. She was usually professional, if her mouth didn't get in the way, and she got the job done. She actually reminded me a lot of a bunk mate in boot camp. But first impressions aren't always correct, Callie," Arizona thought back to that specific bunk mate for a moment, then continued. "Yang's so much more complicated than that. In her own way she's deeply caring, loyal, and extremely kind."
Nodding, Callie wondered if she should continue, but she kept coming back to the look that Mark gave her when he told her to go home and check on Arizona. She decided to change her tactic, "Do you have any vacation days? I bet that Reese would love to see you on her side of the country."
"Are you trying to get rid of me?" Arizona pulled back from the cop sitting in front of her wondering when exactly this slipped into an interrogation. Something was wrong and Callie wasn't telling her what it was. "I thought the policemen's ball was coming up. I thought we were going. I thought you couldn't wait to show me off. What is going on, Callie?"
Pushing herself up off the couch, Callie threw her arms out, "I don't know for sure, but I don't want you to be around Yang anymore, Arizona." She rubbed her hand roughly along her forehead, trying to decide what she could share and what she shouldn't. "I just…” she stopped, "please just… I can't have you here. Let me protect you how I know to protect you."
She knew from the flash of anger that moved over Arizona's face that perhaps the word protect was the wrong word to use toward a Marine.
A hand jutted out toward her as Arizona scoffed, "Stop. Be honest with me. I'm a big girl, Calliope. I know what and who I can handle."
Callie's frustration at the situation boiled over, "Look, I can’t, Arizona. I'm in the middle of an on-going investigation and I simply can't talk to you about this!"
Arizona stood to level their faceoff. "So you're telling me that Cristina Yang is somehow suspect in your unsolved murders? Have you gone completely batshit crazy? Why would you even ever consider it?"
"We're not talking about this," Callie said, turning her back on Arizona and walking into the other room. She mentally kicked herself for revealing any information at all. It was a bad idea to try to learn about Yang through someone she was so close to, especially in an unofficial setting. Stupid.
"The hell we're not!" Arizona yelled, following her into the bedroom.
Callie worked angrily on her duty belt and whipped it violently onto the duvet. She turned and saw Arizona standing at the edge of the bed with her arms crossed over her chest. Awesome. "Just forget about it. It was a rough, emotional day and I got worried, okay?"
"And worried instantly means that you have to ship me off to no man's land? I've been there Callie, Seattle is much safer."
"I don't want you here!" Callie said roughly, her arms shaking with words she didn't mean.
"Oh, really? Because I quite distinctly remember you telling me that people always leave you. That you have abandonment issues. Do you want to know why, Calliope? Because you push them away!"
Her mouth dropped open as if Arizona had slapped her physically and for all intents and purposes she had, "I know that it might be a foreign concept to you, but in relationships people actually give their girlfriend the benefit of the doubt." She chuckled coarsely, "Oh wait, you've never had one before, right? Just a lay here and there."
"Go ahead," Arizona said, pushing hair out of her eyes. "Go ahead. I can take it. You don't think I've heard worse in the closed-minded pig-headed boys club I belonged to for years? You think that I haven't already been called every revolting name in the book?" Arizona took a breath and continued, "That's not what's at issue here. My life choices prevented me from doing a lot of the things that I wanted to do over the years, but I'm not going to let you ruin what we have now. Not when I don't know why. Not when you refuse to talk to me. I thought relationships were about honest and open communication!" Arizona reached down and grabbed Callie's wrist, forgetting that it was probably still just as raw as her own from the handcuff incident several nights ago.
Wincing slightly, Callie twisted her arm only to have Arizona step in closer to her, just Arizona's proximity was enough to send a wave of calm over her. She closed her eyes and dropped her head, energy sagging out of her, "I'm being as honest as I can be right now." A flash of light cut through the dark bedroom and crack of thunder reverberated in the room. Callie felt the panic rise again when she thought about Arizona being in harm's way.
"Can't you just humor me?" she asked quietly.
"Callie," Arizona said evenly, "I'm not going to humor your half-cocked theory that my best friend has been murdering multiple people. You have to see that it's crazy. Have you even talked to her? Look, we can call her right now and clear up this whole mess. She couldn't have done it."
Callie shook her head, "I have this awful feeling in my gut, Arizona. The more I learn, the worse it gets. I can't imagine you being anywhere near her. And before I question her, I need more information. You cannot say anything to her. If she flees..."
"She won't flee because she hasn't done anything but save lives by my side every day." Arizona's hand jutted down with her last words to prove a point, "We save lives Callie. Accusing Cristina? You might as well say it was me."
Her gaze swept over the floor and caught sight of a pair of boots. Arizona moved quickly to them snagging up the tattered Marine issued gortex boots. She plunged her foot into it and could swear she still felt sand.
"What are you doing?" Callie's demeanor changed, frustration making way for anger.
Arizona tugged on the fraying laces, "You told me to leave, so I'm going to get out of your hair. You don't have to worry about me anymore."
"I'm sorry, okay?" Callie stood in front of the bedroom door, Arizona's only exit. "I would never accuse you of something like this. I know that you save lives. Your whole life has been focused on it. That's why you should be concerned about whatever Cristina's doing!"
Arizona pulled on her second boot, "I will not have you turn me against her!" She didn't even take the time to tie the laces and bolted upright, "Get out of my way, Callie."
Her only answer was an impression of an immovable object from Callie, "No."
Turning back into the room, Arizona pulled the closet door open and yanked her flak jacket off the hanger. The resounding chimes from the hangers hitting each other seemed harsh to her ears. She turned back to Callie and made a move for the doorway again, "Move."
"You're going for a ride?" Callie motioned to the windows, "It's a downpour out there."
Arizona stood toe to toe to her, "Move."
"Absolutely not," Callie said, a stern expression on her face. "The paramedics will be scraping you off of the interstate if you leave like this."
"And God forbid, No - Callie Torres has forbidden me from seeing any paramedics!" She shouldered her way past Callie, who followed close behind.
"Arizona -"
The front door opened quickly, and Arizona rushed down the stairs to the street. The rain pelted her face and hair as she struggled into the jacket on and zipped it up. She cursed to herself as she realized that her helmet was inside the apartment, but as she glanced back up the stoop, she knew there was no way to get in and out again without a physical fight.
Callie was still in pursuit, barefoot, and now just as drenched through, as Arizona threw her leg over her bike. Flipping the kickstand up with one leg, she punched down on the starter and heard the rumble of her bike match that of the rolling thunder. Beautiful.
"Arizona, do not do this..." Callie had reached the side alley where she had parked.
"It's too late, Callie." She revved the engine, drowning out everything else Callie was screaming to her over the engine noise and pelting rain. Water dripped from her hair, her eyebrows, the end of her nose, and with one last look at Callie, she took off.
Watching the taillight recede in the distance, Callie realized that her own tears were mixing with the cold rain. Arizona's tires slipped on water pooling on the roadway for a second, water spraying up behind her back, before catching traction again. She took a right turn and disappeared from view, Callie's heart hammering in her chest.
She was losing grip on everything that mattered.
* * *
Meredith's face held a ghost of a smile as she offered a steaming cup of tea to Mark. "I know it's not coffee, but sometimes it's just about holding the cup, isn't it?"
He held her gaze for a while, seeing pieces of Lexie in her before they both looked back into the bedroom at the small frame curled up on the bed. "She'll come back from this right, Grey?"
Meredith shrugged. "We all have things to overcome. I think we mostly do."
Mark starred into his tea, right to the bottom of the cup. "I don't know what to do. I always know what to do," he stated evenly.
Meredith just sat there with him quietly. She found that mostly it's what people needed. And if they wanted more, she usually didn't know how to offer it.
They both were brought out of their reverie as strains of loud guitar riffs filtered through the room. Lexie's form moved quickly on the bed as she blindly reached for her phone on the bedside table, "Hello?"
Mark looked at Meredith with an arched brow and mouthed to her in amusement, "The Who?"
She nodded and rolled her eyes, "She thinks it's funny."
Mark grinned warmly, leave it to the young, enthusiastic Grey to equally make fun of and both love the show that she ripped apart for the inaccuracies in her profession.
"Are you sure about that, Steve?" Lexie's voice focused them both back onto the slumped form on the bed. "Okay. No, he's here, I'll let him know."
Lexie got out of bed and padded into the living room on bare feet. "Mark?" she asked quietly.
"What's going on?" Mark asked, standing from the couch and approaching her side.
"I just got a call from the firearms lab. They got a NIBIN hit on the bullets they pulled from my dad."
Mark could tell that she was shaky and put his arm around her, bracing for the news.
"It came back to a police issued pistol. A Glock 22, 40 caliber, registered to Detective Callie Torres."
* * *
She wasn't sure how long she had stood outside, but as Callie walked into the apartment, the water dripped onto the floors as she slowly stripped the clothes off into a pile in the vestibule. Her eyes caught on the wine glass on the table in the front room that Arizona had barely started in on, traces of her light pink lipstick pressed against the glass leaving the ghost of a kiss.
The water still ran in slow streams down her arms from her hair as she numbly walked down the hallway to the bedroom. She crawled onto the bed and closed her eyes. Callie took a deep breath and could smell the mix of shampoos that Arizona used on the pillowcase. Her breath rattled as her phone buzzed from the foot of the bed. She pushed herself up, and grabbed for cell, hoping that it was Arizona letting her know that she was safe at home.
Instead she saw Mark's name, "Torres," she answered.
"Callie, the firearms report came back, meet me at the station."
He paused and she knew that he was holding back something, "Mark?"
The drawn out sigh made her finally feel the full effect of the rain. Her body took in the chills that ran along her skin, but she wasn't sure that it was all from the weather, or from how Arizona had left.
"It was your piece, Callie."
From the primordial soup the first organism slipped from, to the world as we know it today, there has never been time without the ferocious forces of nature acting upon unsuspecting victims, followed by the fury and uncontrollable emotions of man. Wars have been waged. Winners proclaimed. But how long until the champion falls?