Midnight Oil: Special Assignment
Midnight Oil: Special Assignment
By taintedidealist and drnik46
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. I trust that this will not have to be repeated every post as this information will always be the same... and I'll likely forget to do so.
Ratings: Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. We're not good at rating. 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.
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.
Episode One: Every New Beginning
It's hard to pinpoint the start of an important moment of your life. There is no stage direction or flashing sign that denotes that this change, however minute, will be what sends you on a trajectory that will become something other than a day filled with the mundane.
"You'll find that form 112s have to be submitted in both handwritten field notes as well as entered into the computer system for Captain Bailey's approval."
Torres arched her eyebrow as she tried to balance the binder of hardcopy procedures that was just placed on top of the box she was holding. It was what was left of her desk in her old patrol unit, which now seemed shiny in comparison. Gone were her paperless days. Instead, there would be paperwork, and she assumed lots of it.
"So we have to do double duty on daily incident logs that are supposed to be digital?"
Her sergeant smiled tightly and nodded quickly, "You'll find that you have exact instructions here in Homicide."
And yet, even new beginnings eventually become the mundane. Routines are established, and your new life becomes your day-to-day.
"You the new Detective?"
"Yes, Sir. Torres," Callie extended her hand to the man in front of her.
"I know you're newly promoted, Torres, but you don't have to call me Sir. It's going to get really old, really fast. I'm your new partner. It's just Sloan."
She flashed him a broad smile. "You're my first partner. I was on a single car unit before at..."
"Great," he cut her off, "I don't need your life story, kid. Let's move. Inventory check is done and you missed roll call."
She looked around frantically. "I don't even know where my desk is yet."
He took her box and placed it on an empty counter next to reception. "You'll get it later. We got a hot call."
A new case, a new problem, or a new world and it's easier to downshift into sense memory, letting your body take over before your brain has time to catch up.
"Really?" Torres turned and tried to keep pace with Sloan. He seemed to cast winks at every female in the precinct as they left the building. He abruptly stopped when they reached the patrol car and she nearly ran into his back. "Is there a reason that we're going so quickly?"
Turning, he leveled his gaze on his new partner and his eyes widened, "This is Homicide. We have to work with some urgency because our victims have a tendency of expiring on us."
"Well yeah, but--"
He rolled his eyes, "Get in the car."
Torres closed her eyes for a moment and sent a silent request for calm upwards before sliding into the Crown Victoria. The squeal of the tires on the pavement started before she heard the click of her seatbelt. She hated the smell of burnt rubber.
The very first time, or the hundredth - no matter, it still feels the same. We're not supposed to be emotionally attached, but that doesn't mean that sometimes it's impossible to follow the rules. You think, "New beginning - this time will be different." And maybe it will… for now.
Arizona powered down the helicopter as two men in white coats ran toward the landing pad. "He coded in flight. Couldn't save him," she yelled over the rotors overhead. "Serious burns; seems like his organs couldn't take the strain. Boiled alive."
She could see the deflated looks of the doctors immediately. "Sorry," she shrugged.
"You could help us bring him in," the other paramedic brushed the loose windblown hair out of her face with her elbow as she stepped over the body, "instead of gaping at lost trauma bragging rights."
"Cristina!"
"Arizona!"
Both the paramedic and pilot glared at each other for a moment before the woman with black hair hopped out of the helicopter. "I apologize if I damaged your sensitive sense of self, doctors."
She gave a mock bow as the younger doctor leaned in, looked at the patient and retched for a moment as the other doctor pushed them to the side, "I can help you with this, Cristina."
"What a gentlemen! Arizona, can we note that Doctor," she leaned in to look at the cursive embroidery on his coat, "Day is a gentlemen?"
Pushing the door of the cockpit open she nodded, "I'll put it down in The World According to Yang."
"Excellent!"
"Don't be bitter that you're just the errand girls and we get to fix the problems you drop on our doorstep," Doctor Day replied.
Arizona shook her head as they disappeared, bickering like children. The paramedic assigned in her chopper was growing on her. She reminded her of a bunkmate in boot camp. Precise, blunt and decisive - at least on first impression. Of course, it was only her first official day piloting solo for the EMS, and this was their first call working together, so it was possible that first impressions wouldn't last. Much like that of her bunkmate.
* * *
"Dispatch, this is 416," Torres clicked the microphone off and waited for a response.
"Dispatch, go for 416."
"Please be advised 416 and 359 are ten-twenty-three at Seattle Grace Hospital."
"Ten-four, 416."
Callie placed the microphone back in the cradle and followed Sloan to the emergency room entrance. "I hate hospitals," she said, walking inside.
Turning to look at his partner, Sloan grinned as he backpedaled, stretching his arms out widely, "Oh, come on, Torres, this is where people put Humpty Dumpty back together."
"Oh, really, that's what you think that the hospital is, happy shiny town?"
"No," He shrugged and turned back around, "But it makes the job easier if I go in expecting to see something happy and--"
She quickly rammed into his side as he had come to an abrupt stop. He had a habit of doing that to her. Annoyed, she asked, "What's the stopping about, Sloan?" Her eyes followed his gaze as another large grin spread over his face.
They were hooked onto a medic with blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail who was blowing a bubble of bright pink gum. "That?" Her eyebrow rose and she crossed her arms.
"That is what we call in the field," he leaned towards Torres and whispered to her, "Shiny."
"Ugh."
"What?" he raised an eyebrow. "Just hang back and watch a master work. You'll learn something new, kid."
"You're disgusting."
He nodded his head toward a passing doctor. "No one's stopping you," he said, approaching the nurse's desk.
Torres whispered to him fiercely, "This is not a social visit. We're here to question the burn victim."
"Burn victim?" Arizona looked up. "You'll probably need a psychic. Or a priest." She shook her head. "Or something."
"Excuse me?" Callie asked.
"He died on the way here."
Callie pointed around the area, "And you know because..."
Grabbing onto the finger now pointed in her face, the paramedic smiled widely as she moved Callie's hand down to their sides, "Arizona Robbins. I flew the patient here in my Huey." She patted the back of the stiff detective’s hand lightly before breaking contact with her.
"Huey?" Torres frowned slightly and gave her a sidelong look.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Arizona moved her head slightly back and forth, "Huey is slang for the helicopter that I fly, it's a Bell UH-1N Twin Huey and that was way more information than you cared to know."
She smiled in response, "It wasn't so much a question as... well," she paused for a moment and then continued, "color me impressed."
"You must have missed the part about the guy dying," Sloan interrupted.
"Oh, yeah, he was fighting it when we first picked him up at the site, called in by dispatch after assessment from the initial team..." Arizona bit on her lower lip lightly and furrowed her brow. She sighed and nodded to herself, "but we lost him. I'm not sure about the other patient though."
"Great." Sloan seemed disappointed, but carried on. "Then I guess we're done here. Let's go, Torres."
"Wait!" Callie froze. Sloan was right, she no longer had a reason to be there, but it was just too soon to leave. She'd just met Arizona Robbins, for goodness sake. She felt strangely compelled to stay.
"For what? The guy to turn into a zombie or something? Trust me, Torres, they never say anything but 'braaaaaains' when that happens."
Leaning forward Arizona nodded, "He's right," her eyes shot up as she tried to remember something and then looked back at Callie, "that is unless they need 'mooore braaaains'."
Giggling to herself she flipped the chart open again, "See you later, Torres."
"Yeah," Callie nodded, still a bit stunned by the woman in front of her. "You said there was a second victim?"
"Yep," she scribbled a bit in the chart and stretched her neck, trying to work out a kink before looking back at Callie, "female, mid to late 20s, looked like first and second degree burns. Should be manageable once they got her into trauma at Mercy."
"Okay." Callie turned toward Mark who was talking up a nurse by the doorway.
"Oh, hey, and Torres?"
Turning on her heel, Callie looked back at Arizona hoping to, well, she didn't know what.
"Never mind."
"Callie."
"What?"
"Callie Torres." Both women smiled at each other before Callie turned and left, somehow proud she slipped her first name into the conversation.
Sloan pushed himself off the side of the wall as his new partner approached, "What the hell was that?"
"That, my friend," Callie slapped him on the back, "is how the master works."
He looked back at the paramedic still smiling as she watched them leave and then back to Torres, "No way! Are you saying you actually got her number?"
She tilted her head down slightly and pursed her lips. "Not yet."
"Amateur."
* * *
Lexie signed the chain of custody paperwork that the charge nurse handed her, then placed each item of clothing in separate paper bags. She'd finalize the packaging once she got back to the lab and fill out the rest of her forms there. Hospital runs were pretty uneventful. Not very often did she have to deal with patients, but today was different. She was to take some photographs, a victim DNA standard and maybe even fingernail scrapings. Of course, she needed to find out some more information about the assault to decide if that was needed.
But photographs, definitely. Lexie picked up her camera case and headed down the hall to her victim's room. Victim. Patient. It was hard to change her terminology when she was in the hospital.
She turned the corner into the room and saw that an officer was already there taking a statement, "Well crap."
The curtain ripped back quickly, startling her and she saw icy blue eyes staring, "And you are?"
"Oh, uh, hello the process-" Lexie stopped herself, closed her eyes and then jutted out her hand, "Lexie Grey with the crime lab, here to take pictures of the-" she cut herself off again and motioned towards the victim.
"Oh, okay."
She snapped a few overall pictures and then some close ups, the face, the hands, her injuries. She did not envy this woman lying in the bed.
"Any struggle? Fight? Scratching?" Lexie asked.
The woman shook her head, "Not with the person who started the fire. We were just in the car going to eat dinner by the Wharf."
"The gouges by your hands though, what was that caused by?"
The woman curled up her hands from the memory,"Trying to get out of the car, they threw some bomb thing at the car and Nick swerved and crashed and it was all… I couldn't get out so I, I had to get out." She looked back at Lexie with watery eyes and blinked quickly to try to stay calm.
Lexie turned her attention to the cop in the room with her. "Do you have someone out at the scene of the car?"
"Yep."
Damn, Lexie thought. Her coworkers always got all the really cool scenes. She hadn't worked a fire yet.
"I'm just going to need an elimination standard from you, so we can exclude your DNA from anything. That is, of course, if you are okay with that."
"Sure."
"Can you sign this consent form?"
The woman nodded and reached for the pen Lexie offered. "Have you heard anything about Nick? Did you get this from him, too?"
Lexie looked up at the officer and knew the answer immediately. Her eyes turned back on the girl who was close in age to her sister and smiled warmly, "I haven't been to the hospital he was transported too, but I bet your doctor will have more information for you soon."
She knew it was passing the buck, but with hospital procedure even though the patient was stable now, they were not supposed to cause undue stress.
And finding out that you wouldn't see your someone who you were going to have dinner with again... this was when Lexie was happy to be with her evidence and crime scenes. Usually her job didn't involve so much interaction with people.
"So, Officer, I'm guessing maybe I should go to Mercy West when I'm finished here?"
"Tomorrow."
That sealed it for her. She'd be going to the morgue in the morning, for sure. Otherwise, she shouldn't wait so long to collect perishable evidence. How sad.
"This won't hurt; I'm just going to swab the inside of your cheek. Open your mouth for me?"
When she finished, she left the room quietly. Turns out she was working a homicide, not an aggravated assault. A slow smile crept across her mouth. Her first homicide.
* * *
Sloan turned back to the patient and Torres when he heard the not so subtle clearing of a throat.
"What?"
An arched eyebrow was his only answer. He uncrossed his arms and focused back to the task at hand, smiling gently he lowered his voice, "So you said there was an assailant?"
She nodded. "I didn't really notice much, like I said before. How many times are you guys going to ask me this?"
Callie smiled warmly, "Any information would be helpful. I'm sorry for the repetitive nature of this process."
"They were wearing all black?" The victim yawned deeply.
Sloan looked at his partner. The patient's tone made her statement sound more like a question.
Nodding, Callie flipped her notepad shut, "Okay, I know you've been through a big scare tonight so why don't you think on it and," she trailed off as she pulled out a business card from her pants pocket, "give me a call if you remember anything."
Her partner nodded and echoed her sentiments. Before they exited the room, he leaned down to Torres and shoved his hands in his pockets, "You know what they say about eye witnesses, right?"
"What... that they're scared and confused, but always feel like they have some perfect answer to give us so they elaborate when they shouldn't?"
Sloan's lips curled up like he just ate something sour, "I was going with normally they're wrong, but potato, potahto."
Abruptly stopping in the hallway, Torres turned to him, "Listen Sloan, when they reach like that, you know as well as I do that they're done for the night. It's late."
"Calm down, Torres. You're going to burn out really fast here in Homicide if you continue to stay so passionate. We're all a little bit jaded."
She rolled her eyes, "I'm just still keyed up."
"From being in my presence?" He crossed his arms and grinned widely, "I get that. It's the animal magnetism."
With a scoff Callie headed towards the exit. Sloan watched her walk away for a long moment, then followed.
* * *
Sloan pushed Callie forward as he covered her eyes. "Seriously, Sloan? What are we doing, anyway?"
"It's a secret. Stop talking."
"This is some sort of Homicide hazing, isn't it?" She smacked at his hand. "I can't see anything."
"That's the point, genius."
She finally relented as he guided her forward before causing her to turn left.
"We're going somewhere in a basement? No, no, no, I know what happens in basements."
A hand covered her mouth for a moment, "Will you just shut up? I'm not going to do anything to you and the sooner you shut up the sooner -"
They stopped abruptly and she felt Sloan grab her badge and then replace it quickly in her coat pocket before muttering something about sarsaparilla. She heard a door creak open before sounds and smells welcomed her to something she had wanted since the hospital.
Sloan uncovered her eyes. They were in a bar. A glorious bar that was open at eight o'clock in the morning at shift's end.
Callie was surrounded by warm woods, alcohol and other folks just getting off of night work. There were a bunch of other cops, nurses, and doctors surrounding her. A little oasis for her kind.
She whispered in near amazement, "Why didn't I know about this place?"
"You never got a special invitation. Until today. You gotta know someone to even know about this place. It's a secret, Torres. Keep it that way."
He shook his jacket off and hung it on the back of a chair before striding up to the bar and leaving Callie by herself.
"Callie."
Surprised, she turned to the warm voice. She was very sure that the only one that knew her here was Sloan. Maybe someone from her old unit had transferred shifts and knew someone who knew someone, too.
When she saw the bouncy blonde hair and grinning blue eyes though, she was much more pleased to see the medevac pilot from the hospital than anyone else she knew. Her hair was down and she was out of uniform and Callie's heart skipped a beat when she saw her. She was even more attractive than earlier in the day, which seemed impossible.
Callie recognized how lucky she was to encounter her again so quickly. And yet, here she was, still in uniform, her hair pulled back severely, her figure covered with a bulky bullet proof vest and utility belt. Not her best look, by far.
"How did the rest of your evening go? How was the other patient?" she asked.
Smiling slightly, Callie shook her head, "Um, good. She's well; as good as you can be when you survive burns, I guess."
Arizona's teeth pulled her bottom lip slightly before she nodded. "Yeah, burns are pretty horrific." Changing the subject abruptly, the pilot shook her empty highball glass, a lime rattling around at the bottom, "I'm going up for another round, can I get you something?"
"Absolutely," Callie followed her to the bar. "Whatever you're drinking."
"You don't have a preference? C'mon. You strike me as a woman who knows what she wants." Arizona winked at her playfully, placing her empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar.
"After the day I had, I just want it to be something that doesn't burn."
Arizona squinted for a moment, taking in the appearance of the officer, "Something smooth and clean. I get that." She nodded curtly, "Joe? Could you get us two Jack and Cokes?"
The tall bartender smiled at the two of them, "Coming right up, Captain."
"Captain?" Callie wondered how good the bartender was. The order was for whiskey, not rum.
"Oh!" Arizona laughed, her hand resting on Callie’s forearm for a moment, "That's my nickname," her eyes rolled up and moved back and forth, "Well, more my rank, but as nickname-y as I get."
"Well, Captain Robbins, then I guess you should know, my given name is Calliope. Like the whistle organ instrument found around carousels."
Arizona handed her a drink. "Or the Greek muse of epic poetry."
"Or that." Callie made a conscious effort to keep her jaw from dropping, so she raised the glass to her lips and smiled.
"Well, there you are!"
Looking to her side, Callie held a tight grimace on her face as she saw Sloan sidle up next to Arizona.
"And here we have the ever lovely Arizona Robbins, saving lives as a real life lead medevac pilot now and not just hanging around the bar like a groupie."
Arizona lightly patted Sloan on the cheek and smiled at him tightly before turning to the other officer, "Have a nice night, Calliope."
"Wait," Callie reached out and grabbed Arizona's wrist. She visibly stiffened and Callie let her go, immediately. "I'm sorry."
With short shakes of her head that caused her wavy hair to bounce around, Arizona smiled, "No, I just... you're fine."
"Are you sure about that?" Callie watched her face as she visibly relaxed and pulled the swizzle stick out of her drink.
"It's okay," she leaned in conspiratorially, "but if he gets on your nerves, I'll be by the dart board, most likely losing horribly."
Turning away, Callie looked to Sloan. "Shit," she said under her breath.
He shook his head, blowing air out as he looked down. "She's tough."
"How well do you know her?"
"I've been trying to crack that nut for a few weeks. Didn't know she..."
"What?"
"Liked darts."
"What were you really going to say?" She took a long pull of her drink.
Letting out a relaxed sigh, Sloan pulled himself onto a barstool and pursed his lips, "You're right. I was going to say liked… well, you."
He chuckled for a moment as a small flush rose on Callie's cheeks.
"It's cute and hot in a ‘Can I watch’ kind of way."
Quicker than he was ready for, she punched him in the arm, which only made him laugh harder, "I was kidding. Kidding, Torres."
Callie placed her drink on the bar and shook her body voluntarily from her shoulders on down.
"Feel better?"
"Yes. Better. Composed."
"Able to form sentences longer than one word?"
She nodded and looked towards the dartboard where Arizona was trading off with a very focused dark-haired woman.
"I can't have you going over there and not be able to play this correctly."
"You're not my wingman."
He scoffed at her, "No, I'm the master and I'm going to send you in with poise, not grade school antics."
"What!" She picked her drink back up and gawked at him, "Grade school? I am practiced and professional."
"Oh, are you?" He watched her nod as she took a sip from her drink, "So you have her number by now, then?"
Callie's face withered and her shoulders fell.
"Amateur."
"I'm not usually on this side of things. I mean, look at me. Right?"
He nodded appreciatively. "Sure, but look at her."
"I know." She stared across the room as Arizona threw a dart. It hit the red triple twenty and Callie swallowed heavily.
* * *
And at the end of the day, you realize your new beginning is not just your job. One little chance affects everything else and you realize that you're not sure what to expect tomorrow.
Arizona's arms jutted into the air in celebration. She turned to the sidebar, grabbing her drink, while Cristina rolled her eyes and set up on the line. "Um, Arizona?"
"Still marveling at my awesomeness?"
"No," Cristina nodded her head toward the bar, "There is some strange woman over at the bar staring at you." Arizona hazarded a glance in Callie's direction and smirked. She was happy to see that her plan was working in her favor. "Blech," Cristina's mouth turned down in disgust, "You are tainting the bar with emotions."
And tomorrow inevitably comes, and the next day, and all of those chances blur together. Was each one a conscious choice?
"She's smiling at me." Callie's heart was light with butterflies, the likes of which she hadn't felt in a long time.
"What are you going to do about it, Torres?"
Callie kicked back the rest of her drink before placing it on the bar, "I am going to go and get a number, Sloan."
He slapped her on the shoulder and pushed her forward, "Good," Raising his mug towards the bartender he bellowed after her, "Do not accept defeat!" She glanced back at him and made a slashing motion to her neck which only seemed to amuse him more.
Or was the decision made for you? Some sort of manifest destiny... a hand of fickle fate.
Cristina's eyes widened and she mouthed the words 'she's coming' to Arizona, who had her back turned on the bar. Arizona ran a hand through her hair and it came to rest near the front of her neck as she felt Callie lean in to speak.
"I'd love to take you out sometime."
Arizona turned around to find Callie's smoldering eyes connect with her own and for a brief moment she forgot to breathe.
"Calliope..." she faltered for a moment and cursed herself for having light skin as the blush had to be evident now, "I'd like that." Arizona smiled and dipped her head down feeling all too much like a teenager.
"Breakfast. Tomorrow. I'll pick you up."
Arizona nodded. "Can't wait to see you out of that uniform." She winked and quickly reached into Callie's front shirt pocket where a ball point pen was sticking out, and wrote her address on the back of Callie's hand. She couldn't help but notice how smooth they were.
But when it comes down to it, how the change happened isn't as important as what you gained from it.
By taintedidealist and drnik46
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. I trust that this will not have to be repeated every post as this information will always be the same... and I'll likely forget to do so.
Ratings: Overall rating of this story is PG-13ish to R. We're not good at rating. 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.
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.
Episode One: Every New Beginning
It's hard to pinpoint the start of an important moment of your life. There is no stage direction or flashing sign that denotes that this change, however minute, will be what sends you on a trajectory that will become something other than a day filled with the mundane.
"You'll find that form 112s have to be submitted in both handwritten field notes as well as entered into the computer system for Captain Bailey's approval."
Torres arched her eyebrow as she tried to balance the binder of hardcopy procedures that was just placed on top of the box she was holding. It was what was left of her desk in her old patrol unit, which now seemed shiny in comparison. Gone were her paperless days. Instead, there would be paperwork, and she assumed lots of it.
"So we have to do double duty on daily incident logs that are supposed to be digital?"
Her sergeant smiled tightly and nodded quickly, "You'll find that you have exact instructions here in Homicide."
And yet, even new beginnings eventually become the mundane. Routines are established, and your new life becomes your day-to-day.
"You the new Detective?"
"Yes, Sir. Torres," Callie extended her hand to the man in front of her.
"I know you're newly promoted, Torres, but you don't have to call me Sir. It's going to get really old, really fast. I'm your new partner. It's just Sloan."
She flashed him a broad smile. "You're my first partner. I was on a single car unit before at..."
"Great," he cut her off, "I don't need your life story, kid. Let's move. Inventory check is done and you missed roll call."
She looked around frantically. "I don't even know where my desk is yet."
He took her box and placed it on an empty counter next to reception. "You'll get it later. We got a hot call."
A new case, a new problem, or a new world and it's easier to downshift into sense memory, letting your body take over before your brain has time to catch up.
"Really?" Torres turned and tried to keep pace with Sloan. He seemed to cast winks at every female in the precinct as they left the building. He abruptly stopped when they reached the patrol car and she nearly ran into his back. "Is there a reason that we're going so quickly?"
Turning, he leveled his gaze on his new partner and his eyes widened, "This is Homicide. We have to work with some urgency because our victims have a tendency of expiring on us."
"Well yeah, but--"
He rolled his eyes, "Get in the car."
Torres closed her eyes for a moment and sent a silent request for calm upwards before sliding into the Crown Victoria. The squeal of the tires on the pavement started before she heard the click of her seatbelt. She hated the smell of burnt rubber.
The very first time, or the hundredth - no matter, it still feels the same. We're not supposed to be emotionally attached, but that doesn't mean that sometimes it's impossible to follow the rules. You think, "New beginning - this time will be different." And maybe it will… for now.
Arizona powered down the helicopter as two men in white coats ran toward the landing pad. "He coded in flight. Couldn't save him," she yelled over the rotors overhead. "Serious burns; seems like his organs couldn't take the strain. Boiled alive."
She could see the deflated looks of the doctors immediately. "Sorry," she shrugged.
"You could help us bring him in," the other paramedic brushed the loose windblown hair out of her face with her elbow as she stepped over the body, "instead of gaping at lost trauma bragging rights."
"Cristina!"
"Arizona!"
Both the paramedic and pilot glared at each other for a moment before the woman with black hair hopped out of the helicopter. "I apologize if I damaged your sensitive sense of self, doctors."
She gave a mock bow as the younger doctor leaned in, looked at the patient and retched for a moment as the other doctor pushed them to the side, "I can help you with this, Cristina."
"What a gentlemen! Arizona, can we note that Doctor," she leaned in to look at the cursive embroidery on his coat, "Day is a gentlemen?"
Pushing the door of the cockpit open she nodded, "I'll put it down in The World According to Yang."
"Excellent!"
"Don't be bitter that you're just the errand girls and we get to fix the problems you drop on our doorstep," Doctor Day replied.
Arizona shook her head as they disappeared, bickering like children. The paramedic assigned in her chopper was growing on her. She reminded her of a bunkmate in boot camp. Precise, blunt and decisive - at least on first impression. Of course, it was only her first official day piloting solo for the EMS, and this was their first call working together, so it was possible that first impressions wouldn't last. Much like that of her bunkmate.
* * *
"Dispatch, this is 416," Torres clicked the microphone off and waited for a response.
"Dispatch, go for 416."
"Please be advised 416 and 359 are ten-twenty-three at Seattle Grace Hospital."
"Ten-four, 416."
Callie placed the microphone back in the cradle and followed Sloan to the emergency room entrance. "I hate hospitals," she said, walking inside.
Turning to look at his partner, Sloan grinned as he backpedaled, stretching his arms out widely, "Oh, come on, Torres, this is where people put Humpty Dumpty back together."
"Oh, really, that's what you think that the hospital is, happy shiny town?"
"No," He shrugged and turned back around, "But it makes the job easier if I go in expecting to see something happy and--"
She quickly rammed into his side as he had come to an abrupt stop. He had a habit of doing that to her. Annoyed, she asked, "What's the stopping about, Sloan?" Her eyes followed his gaze as another large grin spread over his face.
They were hooked onto a medic with blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail who was blowing a bubble of bright pink gum. "That?" Her eyebrow rose and she crossed her arms.
"That is what we call in the field," he leaned towards Torres and whispered to her, "Shiny."
"Ugh."
"What?" he raised an eyebrow. "Just hang back and watch a master work. You'll learn something new, kid."
"You're disgusting."
He nodded his head toward a passing doctor. "No one's stopping you," he said, approaching the nurse's desk.
Torres whispered to him fiercely, "This is not a social visit. We're here to question the burn victim."
"Burn victim?" Arizona looked up. "You'll probably need a psychic. Or a priest." She shook her head. "Or something."
"Excuse me?" Callie asked.
"He died on the way here."
Callie pointed around the area, "And you know because..."
Grabbing onto the finger now pointed in her face, the paramedic smiled widely as she moved Callie's hand down to their sides, "Arizona Robbins. I flew the patient here in my Huey." She patted the back of the stiff detective’s hand lightly before breaking contact with her.
"Huey?" Torres frowned slightly and gave her a sidelong look.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Arizona moved her head slightly back and forth, "Huey is slang for the helicopter that I fly, it's a Bell UH-1N Twin Huey and that was way more information than you cared to know."
She smiled in response, "It wasn't so much a question as... well," she paused for a moment and then continued, "color me impressed."
"You must have missed the part about the guy dying," Sloan interrupted.
"Oh, yeah, he was fighting it when we first picked him up at the site, called in by dispatch after assessment from the initial team..." Arizona bit on her lower lip lightly and furrowed her brow. She sighed and nodded to herself, "but we lost him. I'm not sure about the other patient though."
"Great." Sloan seemed disappointed, but carried on. "Then I guess we're done here. Let's go, Torres."
"Wait!" Callie froze. Sloan was right, she no longer had a reason to be there, but it was just too soon to leave. She'd just met Arizona Robbins, for goodness sake. She felt strangely compelled to stay.
"For what? The guy to turn into a zombie or something? Trust me, Torres, they never say anything but 'braaaaaains' when that happens."
Leaning forward Arizona nodded, "He's right," her eyes shot up as she tried to remember something and then looked back at Callie, "that is unless they need 'mooore braaaains'."
Giggling to herself she flipped the chart open again, "See you later, Torres."
"Yeah," Callie nodded, still a bit stunned by the woman in front of her. "You said there was a second victim?"
"Yep," she scribbled a bit in the chart and stretched her neck, trying to work out a kink before looking back at Callie, "female, mid to late 20s, looked like first and second degree burns. Should be manageable once they got her into trauma at Mercy."
"Okay." Callie turned toward Mark who was talking up a nurse by the doorway.
"Oh, hey, and Torres?"
Turning on her heel, Callie looked back at Arizona hoping to, well, she didn't know what.
"Never mind."
"Callie."
"What?"
"Callie Torres." Both women smiled at each other before Callie turned and left, somehow proud she slipped her first name into the conversation.
Sloan pushed himself off the side of the wall as his new partner approached, "What the hell was that?"
"That, my friend," Callie slapped him on the back, "is how the master works."
He looked back at the paramedic still smiling as she watched them leave and then back to Torres, "No way! Are you saying you actually got her number?"
She tilted her head down slightly and pursed her lips. "Not yet."
"Amateur."
* * *
Lexie signed the chain of custody paperwork that the charge nurse handed her, then placed each item of clothing in separate paper bags. She'd finalize the packaging once she got back to the lab and fill out the rest of her forms there. Hospital runs were pretty uneventful. Not very often did she have to deal with patients, but today was different. She was to take some photographs, a victim DNA standard and maybe even fingernail scrapings. Of course, she needed to find out some more information about the assault to decide if that was needed.
But photographs, definitely. Lexie picked up her camera case and headed down the hall to her victim's room. Victim. Patient. It was hard to change her terminology when she was in the hospital.
She turned the corner into the room and saw that an officer was already there taking a statement, "Well crap."
The curtain ripped back quickly, startling her and she saw icy blue eyes staring, "And you are?"
"Oh, uh, hello the process-" Lexie stopped herself, closed her eyes and then jutted out her hand, "Lexie Grey with the crime lab, here to take pictures of the-" she cut herself off again and motioned towards the victim.
"Oh, okay."
She snapped a few overall pictures and then some close ups, the face, the hands, her injuries. She did not envy this woman lying in the bed.
"Any struggle? Fight? Scratching?" Lexie asked.
The woman shook her head, "Not with the person who started the fire. We were just in the car going to eat dinner by the Wharf."
"The gouges by your hands though, what was that caused by?"
The woman curled up her hands from the memory,"Trying to get out of the car, they threw some bomb thing at the car and Nick swerved and crashed and it was all… I couldn't get out so I, I had to get out." She looked back at Lexie with watery eyes and blinked quickly to try to stay calm.
Lexie turned her attention to the cop in the room with her. "Do you have someone out at the scene of the car?"
"Yep."
Damn, Lexie thought. Her coworkers always got all the really cool scenes. She hadn't worked a fire yet.
"I'm just going to need an elimination standard from you, so we can exclude your DNA from anything. That is, of course, if you are okay with that."
"Sure."
"Can you sign this consent form?"
The woman nodded and reached for the pen Lexie offered. "Have you heard anything about Nick? Did you get this from him, too?"
Lexie looked up at the officer and knew the answer immediately. Her eyes turned back on the girl who was close in age to her sister and smiled warmly, "I haven't been to the hospital he was transported too, but I bet your doctor will have more information for you soon."
She knew it was passing the buck, but with hospital procedure even though the patient was stable now, they were not supposed to cause undue stress.
And finding out that you wouldn't see your someone who you were going to have dinner with again... this was when Lexie was happy to be with her evidence and crime scenes. Usually her job didn't involve so much interaction with people.
"So, Officer, I'm guessing maybe I should go to Mercy West when I'm finished here?"
"Tomorrow."
That sealed it for her. She'd be going to the morgue in the morning, for sure. Otherwise, she shouldn't wait so long to collect perishable evidence. How sad.
"This won't hurt; I'm just going to swab the inside of your cheek. Open your mouth for me?"
When she finished, she left the room quietly. Turns out she was working a homicide, not an aggravated assault. A slow smile crept across her mouth. Her first homicide.
* * *
Sloan turned back to the patient and Torres when he heard the not so subtle clearing of a throat.
"What?"
An arched eyebrow was his only answer. He uncrossed his arms and focused back to the task at hand, smiling gently he lowered his voice, "So you said there was an assailant?"
She nodded. "I didn't really notice much, like I said before. How many times are you guys going to ask me this?"
Callie smiled warmly, "Any information would be helpful. I'm sorry for the repetitive nature of this process."
"They were wearing all black?" The victim yawned deeply.
Sloan looked at his partner. The patient's tone made her statement sound more like a question.
Nodding, Callie flipped her notepad shut, "Okay, I know you've been through a big scare tonight so why don't you think on it and," she trailed off as she pulled out a business card from her pants pocket, "give me a call if you remember anything."
Her partner nodded and echoed her sentiments. Before they exited the room, he leaned down to Torres and shoved his hands in his pockets, "You know what they say about eye witnesses, right?"
"What... that they're scared and confused, but always feel like they have some perfect answer to give us so they elaborate when they shouldn't?"
Sloan's lips curled up like he just ate something sour, "I was going with normally they're wrong, but potato, potahto."
Abruptly stopping in the hallway, Torres turned to him, "Listen Sloan, when they reach like that, you know as well as I do that they're done for the night. It's late."
"Calm down, Torres. You're going to burn out really fast here in Homicide if you continue to stay so passionate. We're all a little bit jaded."
She rolled her eyes, "I'm just still keyed up."
"From being in my presence?" He crossed his arms and grinned widely, "I get that. It's the animal magnetism."
With a scoff Callie headed towards the exit. Sloan watched her walk away for a long moment, then followed.
* * *
Sloan pushed Callie forward as he covered her eyes. "Seriously, Sloan? What are we doing, anyway?"
"It's a secret. Stop talking."
"This is some sort of Homicide hazing, isn't it?" She smacked at his hand. "I can't see anything."
"That's the point, genius."
She finally relented as he guided her forward before causing her to turn left.
"We're going somewhere in a basement? No, no, no, I know what happens in basements."
A hand covered her mouth for a moment, "Will you just shut up? I'm not going to do anything to you and the sooner you shut up the sooner -"
They stopped abruptly and she felt Sloan grab her badge and then replace it quickly in her coat pocket before muttering something about sarsaparilla. She heard a door creak open before sounds and smells welcomed her to something she had wanted since the hospital.
Sloan uncovered her eyes. They were in a bar. A glorious bar that was open at eight o'clock in the morning at shift's end.
Callie was surrounded by warm woods, alcohol and other folks just getting off of night work. There were a bunch of other cops, nurses, and doctors surrounding her. A little oasis for her kind.
She whispered in near amazement, "Why didn't I know about this place?"
"You never got a special invitation. Until today. You gotta know someone to even know about this place. It's a secret, Torres. Keep it that way."
He shook his jacket off and hung it on the back of a chair before striding up to the bar and leaving Callie by herself.
"Callie."
Surprised, she turned to the warm voice. She was very sure that the only one that knew her here was Sloan. Maybe someone from her old unit had transferred shifts and knew someone who knew someone, too.
When she saw the bouncy blonde hair and grinning blue eyes though, she was much more pleased to see the medevac pilot from the hospital than anyone else she knew. Her hair was down and she was out of uniform and Callie's heart skipped a beat when she saw her. She was even more attractive than earlier in the day, which seemed impossible.
Callie recognized how lucky she was to encounter her again so quickly. And yet, here she was, still in uniform, her hair pulled back severely, her figure covered with a bulky bullet proof vest and utility belt. Not her best look, by far.
"How did the rest of your evening go? How was the other patient?" she asked.
Smiling slightly, Callie shook her head, "Um, good. She's well; as good as you can be when you survive burns, I guess."
Arizona's teeth pulled her bottom lip slightly before she nodded. "Yeah, burns are pretty horrific." Changing the subject abruptly, the pilot shook her empty highball glass, a lime rattling around at the bottom, "I'm going up for another round, can I get you something?"
"Absolutely," Callie followed her to the bar. "Whatever you're drinking."
"You don't have a preference? C'mon. You strike me as a woman who knows what she wants." Arizona winked at her playfully, placing her empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar.
"After the day I had, I just want it to be something that doesn't burn."
Arizona squinted for a moment, taking in the appearance of the officer, "Something smooth and clean. I get that." She nodded curtly, "Joe? Could you get us two Jack and Cokes?"
The tall bartender smiled at the two of them, "Coming right up, Captain."
"Captain?" Callie wondered how good the bartender was. The order was for whiskey, not rum.
"Oh!" Arizona laughed, her hand resting on Callie’s forearm for a moment, "That's my nickname," her eyes rolled up and moved back and forth, "Well, more my rank, but as nickname-y as I get."
"Well, Captain Robbins, then I guess you should know, my given name is Calliope. Like the whistle organ instrument found around carousels."
Arizona handed her a drink. "Or the Greek muse of epic poetry."
"Or that." Callie made a conscious effort to keep her jaw from dropping, so she raised the glass to her lips and smiled.
"Well, there you are!"
Looking to her side, Callie held a tight grimace on her face as she saw Sloan sidle up next to Arizona.
"And here we have the ever lovely Arizona Robbins, saving lives as a real life lead medevac pilot now and not just hanging around the bar like a groupie."
Arizona lightly patted Sloan on the cheek and smiled at him tightly before turning to the other officer, "Have a nice night, Calliope."
"Wait," Callie reached out and grabbed Arizona's wrist. She visibly stiffened and Callie let her go, immediately. "I'm sorry."
With short shakes of her head that caused her wavy hair to bounce around, Arizona smiled, "No, I just... you're fine."
"Are you sure about that?" Callie watched her face as she visibly relaxed and pulled the swizzle stick out of her drink.
"It's okay," she leaned in conspiratorially, "but if he gets on your nerves, I'll be by the dart board, most likely losing horribly."
Turning away, Callie looked to Sloan. "Shit," she said under her breath.
He shook his head, blowing air out as he looked down. "She's tough."
"How well do you know her?"
"I've been trying to crack that nut for a few weeks. Didn't know she..."
"What?"
"Liked darts."
"What were you really going to say?" She took a long pull of her drink.
Letting out a relaxed sigh, Sloan pulled himself onto a barstool and pursed his lips, "You're right. I was going to say liked… well, you."
He chuckled for a moment as a small flush rose on Callie's cheeks.
"It's cute and hot in a ‘Can I watch’ kind of way."
Quicker than he was ready for, she punched him in the arm, which only made him laugh harder, "I was kidding. Kidding, Torres."
Callie placed her drink on the bar and shook her body voluntarily from her shoulders on down.
"Feel better?"
"Yes. Better. Composed."
"Able to form sentences longer than one word?"
She nodded and looked towards the dartboard where Arizona was trading off with a very focused dark-haired woman.
"I can't have you going over there and not be able to play this correctly."
"You're not my wingman."
He scoffed at her, "No, I'm the master and I'm going to send you in with poise, not grade school antics."
"What!" She picked her drink back up and gawked at him, "Grade school? I am practiced and professional."
"Oh, are you?" He watched her nod as she took a sip from her drink, "So you have her number by now, then?"
Callie's face withered and her shoulders fell.
"Amateur."
"I'm not usually on this side of things. I mean, look at me. Right?"
He nodded appreciatively. "Sure, but look at her."
"I know." She stared across the room as Arizona threw a dart. It hit the red triple twenty and Callie swallowed heavily.
* * *
And at the end of the day, you realize your new beginning is not just your job. One little chance affects everything else and you realize that you're not sure what to expect tomorrow.
Arizona's arms jutted into the air in celebration. She turned to the sidebar, grabbing her drink, while Cristina rolled her eyes and set up on the line. "Um, Arizona?"
"Still marveling at my awesomeness?"
"No," Cristina nodded her head toward the bar, "There is some strange woman over at the bar staring at you." Arizona hazarded a glance in Callie's direction and smirked. She was happy to see that her plan was working in her favor. "Blech," Cristina's mouth turned down in disgust, "You are tainting the bar with emotions."
And tomorrow inevitably comes, and the next day, and all of those chances blur together. Was each one a conscious choice?
"She's smiling at me." Callie's heart was light with butterflies, the likes of which she hadn't felt in a long time.
"What are you going to do about it, Torres?"
Callie kicked back the rest of her drink before placing it on the bar, "I am going to go and get a number, Sloan."
He slapped her on the shoulder and pushed her forward, "Good," Raising his mug towards the bartender he bellowed after her, "Do not accept defeat!" She glanced back at him and made a slashing motion to her neck which only seemed to amuse him more.
Or was the decision made for you? Some sort of manifest destiny... a hand of fickle fate.
Cristina's eyes widened and she mouthed the words 'she's coming' to Arizona, who had her back turned on the bar. Arizona ran a hand through her hair and it came to rest near the front of her neck as she felt Callie lean in to speak.
"I'd love to take you out sometime."
Arizona turned around to find Callie's smoldering eyes connect with her own and for a brief moment she forgot to breathe.
"Calliope..." she faltered for a moment and cursed herself for having light skin as the blush had to be evident now, "I'd like that." Arizona smiled and dipped her head down feeling all too much like a teenager.
"Breakfast. Tomorrow. I'll pick you up."
Arizona nodded. "Can't wait to see you out of that uniform." She winked and quickly reached into Callie's front shirt pocket where a ball point pen was sticking out, and wrote her address on the back of Callie's hand. She couldn't help but notice how smooth they were.
But when it comes down to it, how the change happened isn't as important as what you gained from it.