Scar Tissue (Part Two) -- Chapter 27
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Scar Tissue (Part Two)
Chapter 27
Authors: kennedysbitch & livelovelearneg
Beta'd by englishstrawbie
Rating: NC-17 [Depictions of violence, PTSD, Language, Sexual Content]
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Disclaimer
Scar Tissue [masterpost]
Summary: When Arizona Robbins’ brother dies in Iraq, her life takes off in a completely different direction. Now a highly-rated trauma surgeon with the United States Marine Corps, she spends the three years following his death serving their country overseas - until an insurgent attack leaves her with debilitating injuries. Traveling to Seattle at her father’s request, she falls under the care of orthopedic surgeon Dr. Calliope Torres. Damaged emotionally and physically, Arizona tries to start the healing process with the help of a headstrong woman she never saw coming.
Part Two: Now free from the confines of a hospital bed for the first time
in almost five months, Arizona begins her physical and emotional recovery while
navigating a budding yet rocky relationship with Callie Torres.
Warnings: Depictions of violence, PTSD, Language, Sexual Content
Trailer:
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Arizona felt twitchy and uncomfortable. Sitting still was becoming progressively harder as the group leader spent ten minutes circling the room, talking to each person that walked through the door, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. He appeared to recognize them all, making her the sole newbie of the bunch.
She sat in the back corner by herself, doing her best to ignore the curious glances being thrown her way by the patrons shuffling along the donut table. She wasn’t surprised; everyone else was male and had probably crossed paths with each other at some point in the past. Being the ‘new girl’ wasn’t exactly unfamiliar territory, given her father’s frequent transfers while she was growing up. Still, being the centre of attention, even in a minor capacity, made her squirmy.
It was hard not to indulge her curiosity and steal glances at each of them in return, studying their profiles as if to look for some outward sign that they were as messed up as she was. Outside of the OR, she’d had very little contact with other injured veterans. She saw the immediate aftermath but never where people ended up down the road, once their wounds were closed and a surgeon was no longer required. From what she could gather, some attendees were more talkative than others; otherwise they were all too hard to read.
About nine or ten people showed up in total. Arizona hadn’t known what to expect as far as numbers, given that this was one of only a handful of veteran support groups in the area. There were two others that she found listed on the internet; the fact that this one was the closest to her apartment and held on a Tuesday being the only reasons she had decided to attend. Callie usually worked in the evening on Tuesdays, barring any unforeseen circumstances or a switch in scheduling. Arizona had left a brief note explaining that she was checking out some leads, and that she would call later if she needed a ride. It was vague, but she would rather explain what she was doing in person, after she’d had an opportunity to check it out. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, there was always a chance that she wouldn’t be coming back. If that were the case, it would be better if Callie didn’t know the specifics.
After checking her watch for the tenth time, purely a nervous reflex, Arizona caught the eye of someone standing by the coffee thermos. Whereas most people would glance away politely, he continued to stare, making no efforts to hide his curiosity. He was tall and lanky, and held himself like he didn’t quite know how to handle his awkward body frame. A five o’clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes made it look as though he could use a good night’s sleep. She had yet to see him make conversation with any of the others, which wasn’t surprising given the distrusting way he glared at everyone who walked by. While her first instinct was to narrow her eyes and snap at him to take a picture, instead she forced out what hopefully passed for a friendly smile. He didn’t return it.
“Good evening, everyone,” the group leader, Dan, announced, drawing her attention to the front of the room. His voice wasn’t quite what she would call booming - her father’s voice, now that was booming - but everyone immediately fell silent and those left standing went to their seats. Most of them spaced themselves out closer to the front, while the twitchy guy sat three chairs to her right. She chided herself for tensing up and took in a steadying breath.
“Good to see you all again,” Dan continued, facing the room. “Sorry for the cancelation last week, I had to skip off to Portland on short notice.”
“Was it Monahan?” the awkward guy interrupted. Arizona detected a faint southern drawl, as though he had grown up there but hadn’t spent much time in the last ten years or so. He looked to be no older than twenty-four or twenty-five. Young, considering the subject matter at hand, but not completely out of place given how the war in the Middle East had been going for the past decade.
“What about him?” Dan asked patiently.
“He freak out again?” The guy’s mouth twitched. “Threaten to jump out another window?”
Dan fixed him with a stern look. “Play nice, Ben. You know I can’t discuss others when they’re not here.”
“He freaked out again,” Ben mumbled into his coffee. “Moron.”
Arizona frowned, wondering how he could be so dismissive.
Upon closer inspection, she noticed the tell-tale signs of recent surgery, scars running along his hairline and back behind his ear. He looked like he might have had plate work done in his face, though the surgeon responsible had managed to hide it fairly well. Anyone that wasn’t trained in the way she was probably wouldn’t notice right away.
“It’s good to see some new faces in the crowd,” Dan said, his gaze briefly flickering to Arizona. “I’ll start with my usual introduction. Those of you that have heard it before, feel free to tune me out.
“My name is Sergeant Dan McGoudry and I retired five years ago from the 75th Ranger Regiment. I was in direct combat more times than I can count. I’ve been shot on five occasions and shot at probably ten times as many. In 2003, my unit drove over an IED in eastern Iraq and it effectively ended my career.”
Arizona tightened her grip on the crutch, doing her best to ignore the blood suddenly rushing through her eardrums.
“It would take a whole day to list off the troubles I had after that,” he continued. “I lost most of the hearing on my left side and a good portion of that hand is now completely numb. Sometimes the back pain is so severe that it takes a whole pharmacy just to get out of bed in the morning. But the worst of it, by far, was never being able to let go of the accident that claimed nine lives and spared me. Four in the vehicle I was driving, five in the unit directly behind us.”
Arizona’s pulse quickened and a light sweat broke out beneath her jacket. She had seen a lot of incidents like the one he described; vehicles demolished by a high-powered explosive and the people inside of them shredded to pieces. It was a routine part of her job and yet hearing him talk about it was making her stomach churn.
That in itself was unsettling. Maybe she had pulled the trigger on this group therapy thing too soon. Maybe she wasn’t ready to hear any of this first-hand. Maybe-
“…lost my family, my friends…”
The Sergeant’s words trickled back into the edges of her consciousness. She realized that he was looking directly at her, a worry line creasing his brow. When they made eye contact, he gave a slight tilt of his head before continuing to sweep the room, never once breaking rhythm in his speech. Arizona tried to do a better job of looking passive.
“I know that many of you have heard me talk about this before. Some of you are probably wondering why I do it every time someone new comes in. I believe it’s important for you to know that I’ve been where you are. I remember how isolating it is, how lonely it feels, to think you’re the only one that can possibly know how dark some days can get. The inability to walk down the street without scanning the rooftops; the crippling onset of nerves you get at fireworks or when a loud car roars by; the nightmares, the flashbacks. The things that run through your mind and make you wonder how truly deranged you’ve become. The outbursts of violence that you never knew you had in you. I’m telling you that I went as far as rock bottom, with a pistol in my mouth, ready to make it all end, and that five years later I’m still standing here and talking to you about it.”
Arizona’s breath came in shallow bursts, blue eyes darting around the room, trying to decipher the reactions to such a blatant admission. Some of the attendees nodded, a few stared blankly into space, while others reclined further in their chairs and remained stony faced. She guessed that they had probably all heard it before.
Callie’s late night plea entered Arizona’s mind. At the time she had been completely honest, that suicide wasn’t something she had ever considered. Now, hearing an Army Ranger Sergeant talk about how close he came to ending his life, it terrified her how easy it could be to reach that state if she continued to let things slide. That wasn’t something she ever wanted to experience.
“I’m not here to make anyone relive their past,” Dan continued after a few moments had passed. “I’m never going to ask you to tell a room full of strangers what brought you here. What this is is a safe place to talk about anything and everything you feel you need to, including that trauma, if and when you choose. If anyone has good news to share, things you’ve accomplished in the last week, I encourage you to do so. At some point we’ve all felt like it would never get better, so it helps to hear that someone else has beaten those odds.”
He smoothed a hand across his clean-shaven cheek and pulled a chair over, easing into it with a stiffness that signalled some sort of physical discomfort. “The aim of these sessions is to have you leave with another tool in your toolbox - coping mechanisms, skills you can put to use when things get rough. You all know how little it can take to turn a good day into a bad one. I’m here to show you how to manage your symptoms and take back some control in your life.”
It sounded so easy, yet Arizona knew it was about as hard a task as they had ever been given. No one there was naïve enough to think they could solve all of their problems with a simple set of ‘coping mechanisms’. But it was a place to start and there was network of support to back each other up. Having some ‘tools in her toolbox’ didn’t sound like a terrible idea, considering she was pretty toolless at the moment. Running to Callie every time she had a bad thought wasn’t going to help either of them get any sleep at night.
When Dan finished his monologue, he opened the floor to anyone who wanted to speak. Two different gentleman stood up and addressed the room, one in his early to mid-thirties, the other nearing fifty. Each of them talked about a personal triumph - the younger man having gone to the mall on Saturday for a full hour, the older for extending his hours at his new civilian job.
To the general public, none of that would have seemed worth kicking up a fuss over. Even without knowing their individual stories, Arizona applauded along with everyone else. She was well aware of the challenges faced by a lot of veterans, especially when it came to crowd control and socializing. A busy shopping mall could send grown men ducking for cover or reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there in his civies. She had experienced her own issues with crowding at the wharf and knew that she was probably far better off than a lot of the others. Grocery shopping on the weekends was uncomfortable but not crippling. She’d never experienced that nagging sensation telling her that someone was watching her every move, lying in wait.
The men returned to their seats and Dan gathered up a stack of folders. He walked down the centre aisle and handed them out. As Ben was sitting the closest, Dan handed him two packets for the row. Ben swivelled and passed one to Arizona.
“You’re new,” he said bluntly, before she could even murmur so much as a ‘thank you’. His gaze travelled to the crutch she was holding onto like a lifeline. “What happened to your legs?”
“Ben,” Dan warned. “We don’t ask people those questions here. It’s her first day, leave her be.”
“Sorry,” Ben shrugged, not looking entirely put off. He flipped through the booklet and quickly lost interest in Arizona.
Under normal circumstances, Arizona would have been more open to introducing herself and making small talk. Unfortunately, the ball of nerves that had settled in her gut was making it difficult to speak, keeping her on edge. To distract herself, she flipped through the booklet, aptly titled ‘Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and You: How to Reintroduce Stability Back into Your Life’. She snorted on reflex, drawing a few glances from the others.
“Some of you have seen this before,” Dan explained. “It’s an updated version that I received last week. It’s a simplified step-by-step process describing exactly how to manage your symptoms. It even includes a helpful CD that talks you through breathing and muscle exercises, which we’ll work on tonight.”
Apparently Arizona wasn’t the only one who found this to be a bit ridiculous, because most of the others seated around her laughed. If reading a fifteen page book was all it took to overcome PTSD, then none of them would be there in the first place.
“I know, I know, but at the very least, it lists the steps I’m about to go through,” Dan said with a hearty grin. “That can be helpful when going over them with friends and family, or for a quick and easy reminder of the basics when you’re on your own. If you guys - and gal - could indulge me for ten minutes, flip to section one and we’ll start with some breathing exercises. These are most useful when you’re starting to feel a little on edge and need a moment to yourself. If you’ve already been working on it at home, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Slumping in her chair, Arizona released a heavy sigh and peeled open the first page, reminding herself that she was supposed to be keeping an open mind. If she went in thinking negatively, then she was already dooming herself to failure.
***
The meeting lasted almost two hours from start to finish. The second half was spent on a combination of deep relaxation breathing and something called progressive muscle relaxation. The latter involved localized tensing and subsequent relaxation of core muscle groups, the point being to train the body to recognize what relaxation felt like. Many post-traumatic stress sufferers were permanently tense, often without realizing it. Targeting specific areas and going through the motions of relaxing tight muscle groups was supposed to make it easier to accomplish on command. It was another ‘tool’ for helping to deal with their disability, one that Dan said he used almost every day himself.
That was what he had called it, a disability. Arizona suddenly had no idea which one of her shortcomings was more crippling, the physical or the emotional. Together they made quite the rag-tag team.
It was almost 9:30pm when she struggled from her chair, wiped out from a mixture of first-time nerves and an hour of stress-relieving exercises that she hadn’t quite been able to master in a room full of strangers. She recognized the potential benefits and fully planned on practicing them at home, where she could get comfortable; it just wasn’t happening for her tonight.
Pulling on her jacket and exiting behind the initial rush, Arizona concentrated on using her bad leg for the trip to the elevator, ignoring the strain from an afternoon of working out and walking. She was pushing herself to move through the pain as much as possible these days, even during the more difficult times. It was the only way she would ever learn to compensate and work up enough endurance to be on her feet twelve hours a day in a fast-paced job environment.
Put like that, the task seemed ludicrous and impossible.
As she left the elevator and stepped into the lobby, she spotted Sergeant McGoudry with two men - one of them Ben, the other a younger gentleman in a wheelchair. His dark hair was already streaked with summer highlights, reminding her of Timothy the last time he had returned from active duty at the height of the dry season. A muscular frame capped off around his waist, signalling hours spent at the gym, compensating the need for upper body strength in order to get around.
Her gaze automatically fell to his legs. The double amputation caught her off guard - one above knee, one below. It wasn’t a stretch to assume that he was a soldier, even though she hadn’t seen him at the meeting with everyone else. He would have been hard to miss.
It was his laughter that rang out across the atrium, a bright grin rooted firmly in place as he rolled backwards and popped a miniature wheelie for the entertainment of his buddies. He wasn’t shy about his injuries, sporting athletic shorts and no protective sock coverings to hide the amputations from plain view. Arizona instantly admired how at ease he seemed, the definition of relaxation and care-free, when life had dealt him an even shittier hand of cards than it had her.
She was still reeling from the last few hours and wasn’t exactly feeling very sociable, so she made a quiet beeline for the door, fervently hoping that no one would notice her on the way out. Once there, she could call Callie and use the phone as an excuse to keep to herself, like the good little hermit she was quickly becoming.
“Dr. Robbins!”
Or not. She froze mid-step and turned to see all three men staring directly at her - being stealthy while clunking a metal stick along the floor was a lot harder than it seemed.
Dan waved her over and, after a brief hesitation, she hobbled in their direction. With any luck, she could make this fast and be out of there before she stuck her foot in her mouth and said something stupid.
“Benjamin, Adam, this is Lieutenant-Commander Arizona Robbins,” Sergeant McGoudry introduced her. “She’s a Navel surgeon working with the Marines, and the newest member of our clan.”
Arizona smiled shyly and gave an awkward little wave. “Hi.”
Ben continued to stare unabashedly, while Adam, presumably the one in the wheelchair, cocked an eyebrow at the oldest of the bunch. “Damn, Serg. We have girls now? I chose a crappy night to play basketball.”
A hint of confusion must have registered in Arizona’s expression as they shook hands, because Adam immediately broke into a playful grin. “Prosthetics, man. I can jump higher than Jordan.”
“He’s lying,” Ben cut in. “There’s a wheelchair basketball league that practices on Tuesdays. He’s not very good.”
Adam scowled and rammed the nearest wheel into Ben’s foot. “Jerk. You’re supposed to help me impress the pretty doctor, not step all over my game.”
Despite the butterflies she had been housing in her stomach all night, Arizona laughed at the exchange. “Actually, the idea of coordinating a wheelchair and a ball the size of my head is pretty impressive. I can barely carry a dinner plate and operate a crutch at the same time.”
Adam looked pleased with himself. “You get used to it. Though with any luck, you won’t have to. How’s the rehab going?”
Arizona peered down at her leg, flexing the joint out of habit. “Hurts like a bitch, but I’m managing.”
“Adam was a regular here for two years,” Dan explained. “He’s now in the process of getting a psychology degree, with aspirations of becoming a mental health counsellor himself.”
“I’m his pride and joy,” Adam bragged, jerking a thumb in the Sergeant’s direction.
Ben snorted, opening his mouth to argue, only to clam up when he realized that Arizona’s attention had shifted to him. His jaw tightened and he shoved both hands into his pockets, staring hard at the floor.
“He’s definitely a source of inspiration, I’ll give him that,” Dan allowed, causing the younger soldier to beam.
It amazed Arizona how upbeat and radiant Adam was, given the difficult, life-long challenges he faced due to his injuries. It sent a throb of guilt through her chest - here she was, standing on two legs and sulking, while he faced far more adversity and did it with a smile on his face. She was pathetic.
“Rewind twelve months and the only thing I was an inspiration for was a Xanax ad,” Adam replied, indicating his wheels. “If it weren’t for Serg here, I don’t think I would’ve made it this far. I owe it all to him and my therapist for kicking my ass into gear.”
Arizona felt completely stunted when it came to carrying on a conversation with these guys. While she had been able to channel her focus in the meeting earlier, feelings of inadequacy came roaring back now. Things could have been so much worse - Adam was living proof of that - and yet she still couldn’t function on a normal, daily basis.
“I hate to cut and roll, but I’ve gotta head home,” Adam apologized, grabbing a duffel from the floor and situating it on his lap. “Sasha gets restless when she’s alone for too long.”
“Girlfriend?” Arizona asked in an attempt to be friendly.
“She fetches my slippers and opens cupboards on command. She’s a keeper.”
“There’s a service centre that trains dogs for veterans with disabilities,” Dan explained before Arizona could raise an eyebrow at the implications. “Adam’s just taken in a black lab named Sasha. He likes the arrangement; can’t say for sure if the dog feels the same.”
“She loves me,” Adam chuckled, flashing Arizona a big smile and shaking her hand a second time. “Great to meet you, doc. Hope to see you back here again.”
“Thanks,” Arizona murmured, feeling most of the air deflate from her lungs.
As he swivelled around and headed for the exit, a few stragglers from the meeting came up from the stairwell. Dan turned to greet them and Arizona took the opportunity to excuse herself. She headed in the same direction Adam had gone, counted the seconds until she was sure he would be far enough away, then stepped outside.
A gust of cold air would have helped immensely with her sudden spike in temperature, but it was a humid night and Arizona found no relief. Her arm shook violently against the crutch and she clambered over to the side of the building, hoping to hide underneath the cover of darkness.
The wave that hit her was two parts overwhelming and another six parts of grief. So many of these people had been through and seen things worse than she had, and yet she felt miles behind the rest of the curve. All of them were getting better; she felt nowhere even close to it. Her leg was healing while three nights ago she had woken up all but screaming from some unseen nightmare, terrifying Callie and setting herself back who knew how much. Coming here was supposed to help, and instead she felt even worse than she had before.
Arizona sagged against the brick wall, dangerously close to her legs giving out, and hunched forward to catch her breath. Fingernails dug into the fabric of her jeans, squeezing each thigh in an attempt to keep herself grounded. The last freaking thing she needed was another panic attack in a public forum.
As she worked hard not to hyperventilate, the door swung open to her right, startling her back into the present. Dan appeared with Ben in tow, keys jangling as he locked up the building. Any hopes of remaining unnoticed were torpedoed when he immediately spotted her in the shadows.
Ben shuffled impatiently behind him, eyeballing Arizona with the same scrutiny that one does a foaming rottweiler. “You okay?”
Arizona straightened up, sucking in a sharp breath and willing her voice to remain steady. “Yeah, I’m great.”
“Have a good night, Ben,” Dan said lightly, touching him on the shoulder. “Drive safe, okay?”
Taking the hint, Ben shrugged and started for his car at a brisk walk, staring into every dark corner the parking lot had to offer. The mark of a true soldier, Arizona thought idly.
“I know he seems abrasive,” Dan spoke, moving closer. “He’s harmless, he just has trouble adjusting to new people. You’ll be less of a spectacle next week now that he knows you’re here.”
“He seems…” Arizona trailed off, not wanting to be a jerk and say ‘weird’. She was pretty weird some days too, especially when it came to falling out of bed, screaming in her sleep, and collapsing in the middle of public places.
“He’s been through a lot. It’s good that he comes here; I think he enjoys the interaction. He doesn’t get much of it on his own. He’s not quite ready to go back to work yet.”
“What happened?” she asked without thinking. She was wary of sounding too invasive, but she was curious, and it served as a distraction from the mini heart attack she felt like she was having. “I-I mean, I’m a surgeon, I couldn’t help but notice some of the scarring on the side of his face. He was hurt?”
Dan nodded without expanding on the subject, and she immediately assumed she had overstepped some sort of boundary. Not a great impression to make on the first day.
“Sorry,” she blushed. “This is all really new to me. I don’t know how these group things work, if it’s anonymous or not.”
“No harm in asking,” Dan shrugged. “I try not to talk about other members if they’re not present to consent. Some folks prefer to sit and listen, without making any connections to their every day life. In Ben’s case, he doesn’t really mind when I explain his situation to others. The more people that know, the easier it is for him.”
“Blast injury?” Arizona found it easier to keep talking about the medical side of things. It didn’t stop the shaking or quell the low-level nausea, but it did help to keep her mind from clouding up. To her dismay, a drizzle of sweat rolled down her temple, which she quickly swiped at with her sleeve. Dan was keeping his gaze focused straight forward, drawing no attention to her distress as she worked on stabilizing herself. Those breathing exercises they had just learned didn’t seem to be helping.
“He was hurt two years ago in Afghanistan,” he said. “He was left with some residual brain damage as a result.”
Arizona licked her lips. “He seems to be doing pretty well, considering.”
“Ben has some trouble filtering, so to speak. Whatever he thinks, he says. All you have to do is tell him not to ask a certain question, or not to stare, and he’ll understand that it’s not acceptable,” Dan explained. “There are no hard feelings with that guy. He knows his disability and has learned to live with it. Once people understand that he’s not coming from a predatory or invasive place, he’s actually quite interesting to talk to. He’ll tell you exactly what he thinks about a situation, that’s for sure.”
Arizona immediately felt guilty for thinking that Ben was a creep when she first met him. Now that she knew better, she understood the physical and psychological repercussions from such an injury. She should have taken the time to reserve judgement. As a doctor - a military doctor - she knew better.
The conversation fell off after that but Dan seemed in no hurry to leave or get on with his evening. Arizona knew he was sticking around for her sake, and, even though she barely knew the guy, she was relieved not to be alone. Tonight had hit her ten times harder than she had imagined it would. It was embarrassing.
Gradually, she pieced together the jumbled mess that was her brain, fixing it with enough tape and glue to get her home and into bed with Callie at the very least. After that, all bets were off.
“Where did you park?”
Blinking rapidly, Arizona fished for the phone in her bag. “I took a cab,” she mumbled. “Probably should’ve called before the meeting ended.”
“I don’t mind waiting.”
The guilt came roaring back. “You don’t have to, I’ll be fine. My, um - m-my friend should be off work by now. She can pick me up.”
“I hope you don’t take this as me being a chauvinistic pig, ma’am, but I’m not keen on leaving a woman alone in a dark parking lot late at night,” Dan said slowly. “I’m sure you can take care of yourself; however, I would feel much better waiting.”
Arizona genuinely smiled for the first time in hours. “You’re very kind. Not pig-ish at all.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” He leaned back next to her, the picture of contentment.
As she dialled Callie’s number and waited for her to pick up, Arizona caught him glancing subtly at his watch. “Really, if you’ve got some place to be-”
“Actually, I was just thinking,” Dan interrupted. “If you’re not too exhausted, you should join me for coffee. There’s a diner just down the road. The food’s not great, but it isn’t awful, either.”
Arizona balked, her social skills so far deteriorated that she couldn’t tell if he was asking her out or just being friendly.
“I go there after every meeting,” Dan was quick to add, probably sensing her hesitation. “Usually with other attendees. Tonight I was on my own. I know pretty much everyone in our little circle by now and you’re the first new member we’ve had in several weeks. It would be an honour to get to know more about you, Dr. Robbins.” His smile was genuine and unassuming. “Nothing more than small talk and pie. I won’t make you dig up any demons, I promise.”
“Arizona?
Callie’s voice on the other end of the line caught the blonde’s attention. “Hey, sorry. Hold on a sec,” she spoke into the receiver before covering it with her palm.
Dan had pulled out his own cell. “Take your time. I’m going to call my wife and see if she wants me to bring home some late night dessert.”
Seeing the glint of a wedding band helped Arizona relax. She wondered if this was the same woman that had left him during his worst stages of PTSD or if it was a new marriage. He stepped away to make the call and she returned her attention to Callie’s.
“Is everything okay?” Callie asked, concerned. “I just got home and saw your note. Do you need a ride?”
“Actually, um…” Arizona glanced over her shoulder, mulling the invitation. “I just got an asked to go out for coffee with a…friend. He’s part of this vet group thing.” She fidgeted, wondering what Callie would think of her being here. “For, y’know, PTSD a-and stuff.”
A light bulb went on in Callie’s head. “Oh,” she exclaimed, trying to hide her surprise. “That’s great! I mean, it’s good. I’m glad that you’re…h-how did it go?”
“Good, I think,” Arizona sighed, allowing herself to ease back against the wall. Hearing her girlfriend’s voice helped squash the turmoil she was feeling into a more manageable level. “It’s all very new. The guy running it knows some helpful stuff, though. He was just asking if I would join him for a late night caffeine fix. He wants to get to know the newbie.”
“Are you comfortable with that?” Callie asked. “Because I can totally put my foot down and say no, if it’ll help.”
Arizona grinned into the phone, more of her discomfort melting away. “You’re sweet, but that’s not necessary. I think I’ll take him up on the offer, if it’s okay with you?”
“Yeah, of course,” Callie said in a rush, trying not to sound too eager. “Just call me when you need to be picked up. And text me the address and this guy’s full name, so I know who to hunt down if you go missing.”
“Will do, Chief.”
Callie hesitated, wishing she was there in person to gauge Arizona’s well-being for herself. “You’re really okay?”
“I’m…coping,” Arizona allowed. “Not a hundred percent, dancing, ‘the hills are alive’ kind of amazing, but doing alright. Looking forward to curling up on the couch with you and eating popcorn or something else extremely mundane and familiar. I’ve had just about enough self-reflectance for one night.”
“That can be arranged,” Callie chuckled. “Enjoy yourself. I’m jealous; I haven’t socialized with people I don’t work with in like…two years.”
“I kinda like it that way,” Arizona said slyly. “Means I get you all to myself.”
“My lack of a social life definitely improved your chances when we first met.”
“Ouch,” Arizona laughed. “Next you’ll tell me that I wasn’t your first doctor-patient romance.”
“Just make sure you drink decaf, dork,” Callie mused. “And have fun. Call me as soon as you need a ride.”
“I will.” Arizona bit her lip, wishing Callie were with her right now. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Arizona hung up and spotted Dan a short distance away, giving her the privacy to finish the call. “So, you said this place has pie. Is it good pie?”
Dan shrugged and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. “Not particularly. Does that change your mind?”
“I’m willing to try anything once,” Arizona smirked, adjusting her crutch and following him to his car.
***
The diner was straight out of the 1950s, complete with the red vinyl booths, parlour stools and rounded windows facing onto the street. It was clean, at least, and didn’t look like it had deteriorated too much in the last fifty years. The pie was substandard and the coffee tasted like…well, diner coffee. Everything was edible, no matter how minimally, so they sat in a window booth and focused on their respective desserts.
After a few minutes of solid silence, during which she struggled to figure out what to say, Arizona finally dropped her fork. “This is probably hard to believe, but I’m not usually such a social leper. Tonight just kinda threw me off.”
Dan sipped his coffee and chuckled. “No pressure, remember? We can sit here counting ceiling tiles if you like. I’m in no rush.”
“You don’t want to play twenty questions? Get to know the woman behind the walking disaster? I thought that was your thing.”
“Only if you’re up for it.” He studied her over the rim of his mug. “As I said, I’m never going to push the subject. I believe it’s counter productive to make someone relive their most troubling moments when they feel forced into it. And you’re not a disaster, by the way. You seem to be doing remarkably well.”
Arizona nearly burst out laughing until she realized that he was serious. “Oh, wow. I must be a better actress than I thought.”
Dan waited quietly for her to expand - or to change the subject - once again exuding enough patience for her to suspect he was a robot.
Deciding that she would rather put the situation - and herself - into context, especially if they would be meeting on a semi-regular basis, Arizona wrapped both palms around her coffee mug and gave him the cliffnotes version.
“I enlisted after my brother died a few years ago. Our father is a Colonel, so we kind of grew up with the lifestyle. I headed an FRSS and deployed twice out of Baghdad.”
“Good people on those teams,” Dan replied, nodding in recognition. “Saved a lot of lives.”
Arizona hummed. “We had a very good unit. Efficient. It was gruesome work but it was worth it. I felt like I was making a real difference. Saw some awful things that I wish I hadn’t, things no one should ever have to...” She shook it off. “Then one day we got hit. I took the worst of a mortar blast in the leg. A lot of people died.” Her brow creased as she struggled to remember more than blurred shapes and fuzzy sounds. “Since then, it’s been…hard to readjust. I was in and out of the hospital for a long time.”
“May I ask what you’re having the most difficulty with?”
He said it casually while stirring creamer into his coffee, giving Arizona pause to consider. He wasn’t going out of his way to sound empathetic or pushy; his grey eyes focused intently on hers without giving her the sense that she was under pressure to answer. He cared, but only so far as she was willing to share. She appreciated his approach to the whole process.
“The unprovoked nightmares,” Arizona finally admitted. “And there have been a few instances with some pretty intense flashbacks. Brought on by loud noises, mostly; times when I’ve let my guard down.”
“Sounds like the physical rehab is a bit of a cakewalk in comparison.”
Arizona smirked, bobbing her head in agreement. Wasn’t that the truth.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, the distant feelers of a headache reaching out in ominous forewarning. “Some days are better than others, some are worse. It’s all so erratic. I think that’s the most frustrating thing, I can have a great day and then wake up terrified of something I can’t even remember. It’s exhausting.”
“Do you think they’re memories? Or a mix of everything you’ve been through?”
Arizona thought about it. “Both? I can recall instances that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget. People getting killed, the day I got hurt, etcetera. But I swear, sometimes I wake up feeling like I’ve been running for my life and I’ve got no idea where it’s coming from.”
“That’s fairly common. The nightmares aren’t always an exact reflection of your experiences.”
“It almost feels like it would be easier if they were. At least then I could try and make some sense of them.”
“These things never make sense. It’s an unfortunate side effect.”
“They don’t make a pill for that?” Arizona asked, making him laugh.
Sergeant McGoudry’s quiet, confident nature was making it way too easy for Arizona to spill her guts to a virtual stranger. By the time she realized how much she was saying, it was too late to take any of it back. He was smiling, though, making her feel like somewhat less of an idiot.
“It must have taken a lot of strength to come here tonight. I’m glad you did, Dr. Robbins.”
“Please, call me Arizona,” she said sheepishly. “Given that I pretty much just told you my life’s story, I think we should be on a first name basis.”
“That’s a very unique name,” Dan said curiously. “Any story behind it?”
Happy for the chance to get away from her sordid past, Arizona scooped up a forkful of pie, suddenly finding her appetite had returned. “My grandfather served on the USS Arizona during Pearl Harbour. My parents thought it suited a daughter more than a son, so I drew the short straw.”
Idle chit chat filled the next few minutes, Arizona finding that she enjoyed the Sergeant’s company. He was a kind and caring man, and he obviously felt passionate about helping others that were going through what he had fought so hard against in the past. He was the first person outside of Teddy and Callie that she had connected with in months - maybe even in the years since Timothy’s death.
“After six months in a military hospital, I could barely function as a civilian,” Dan explained as the conversation shifted to his life. “I replaced socializing with alcohol. The more isolated I felt, the more I drank. The more I drank, the worse the nightmares became, and the worse the nightmares became, the more my waking reality deteriorated. I still have bad days, don’t get me wrong, but nothing like it used to be. I’ve been sober for four years.”
“I can’t imagine having a blackout that lasted almost five months,” Arizona murmured, shaking her head in amazement.
“Trust me when I say that you never want to find out.” Dan relaxed into the booth, stretching his arm across the top. “After I lost my wife and two kids, I thought I didn’t want to live anymore. I came within an inch of killing myself before I accepted the help I needed. I don’t ever want anyone to get as far down the hole as I did.”
“You’re doing a good thing,” Arizona said earnestly. “I wasn’t ready to go sit in a psychiatrist’s office and be told that I’m going crazy. Not yet. This…it helps. As mind-numbingly terrified as I still am about the whole thing, I’ve never talked to anyone about it all before.”
“Different things work for different people,” he agreed. “You do what works for you.” He finished his coffee and signalled the waitress for more. “Do you have family in Seattle? Friends?”
“Not initially, though I have someone now,” Arizona said. “Two someones, actually. I came here to have surgery and didn’t know a single person within three hundred miles. Eventually my best friend, someone I served with, moved here for a job and decided to stick around.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You’ll need them in the coming months.”
Arizona tried and failed to hold back a mushy grin when she thought of Callie, too, and all that she had done for her since they’d met. Dan must have noticed a peculiar look on her face.
“What?”
“I kind of met someone new,” she admitted. “In the romantic sense, which is weird, considering what a wreck I’ve been.”
“I’m sensing a story here,” Dan said coyly. “How does one find love while sitting in a hospital bed, presumably in a state of traction?”
That made Arizona blush. “It’s complicated.”
“Oh come on. You can’t leave me hanging at the best part.”
Arizona chewed on her bottom lip. “You’re going to think this is ridiculous.”
“Try me.”
Explaining her relationship with Callie was the last thing Arizona had thought she would be doing tonight, but if the last half an hour had taught her anything, it was that talking didn’t hurt quite as much as she thought it would.
“I’m sort of dating my surgeon,” she said slowly, well aware that she sounded like a crazy person. “We’re living together, actually, since I didn’t have an apartment prior to arriving in Seattle.” She laughed at the way his brow shot straight up in surprise. “It’s not as inappropriate as it sounds! Nothing happened until after I was out of the hospital, honestly. And she’s amazing, I don’t know what I would have done without-”
Arizona balked as soon as she realized her slip-up. Even with ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’ still alive and kicking, she had dropped her guard after eight months of inactivity.
Way to firebomb her own recovery efforts. Fuck.
“I didn’t - I-I mean-”
“Dr. Robbins - Arizona,” he broke in, resting his elbows on the table and keeping his voice low. “I have no affiliation with the military anymore, nor does our group, not in any official capacity. You can speak freely without fear of repercussions, I promise you that.”
Arizona half smiled, half grimaced. “I guess this is why I didn’t sign up for Covert Ops, huh?”
“There are many things wrong with the state of the military,” Dan said as the waitress refilled his mug, waiting until she moved onto the next table before continuing. “The worst being the utter lack of respect for injured veterans and their long term care, and the insidious piece of paper outlining ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’. I happen to know that my life has been saved by a gay man on more than one occasion. Fucking government has no right to tell its people who to love while they’re taking bullets and bombs for their country - excuse my language. My wife would have my tongue if she heard me now.”
Arizona let out a bark of laughter, the tension in her shoulders slipping away. “Amen to that,” she mused. “I guess I shouldn’t be too worried. With this bum leg I’m dragging around, I doubt I’d ever be able to go back. Whether or not I want to is an entirely different story.”
“I think we’ve all fought that battle inside our own heads,” Dan agreed. “It’s even harder when you’ve already got voices and images floating around in there that don’t belong.”
“I’m amazed at how good a place you seem to be in,” Arizona admitted. “After what you told the group, I just kept thinking that if it was me, I don’t think I ever would’ve come back from it.”
“But you are coming back,” he argued. “Being here tonight proves it.”
“I thought I came for the pie,” Arizona joked weakly. He didn’t go for the deflection, instead waiting for her to supply a legitimate response. Again, she squirmed in her seat. “Honestly? I felt like kind of a fraud tonight.”
That seemed to surprise him. “What makes you say that?”
Arizona released a heavy sigh. “I’m not…I wasn’t a soldier, not in the same way the rest of you were. I mean look at Ben, look at Adam - they’ve got mountains the size of Everest to overcome and they’re taking it all in stride. I look at myself and feel like an idiot. What have I got to complain about? I still have my leg, my hands, my cognitive functions. I’m thinking of going back to work in the next few months. I have no right to be this screwed up when they’re-”
“Don’t be a fool,” Dan cut in, fixing her with a very pointed stare. “The first thing you need to realize is that you can’t compare yourself to anyone else. No one is better or worse off than their peers. Your experiences are just as legitimate as theirs; under no circumstances should you ‘suck it up’ and get over whatever happened to you.”
“Okay, but-”
“What would you say to someone who was never injured?” he interrupted again. “Someone that didn’t drive over an IED or didn’t get caught in the crossfire or hit by an RPG, and yet they still had nightmares because of the things they experienced? Would you tell them that it doesn’t matter?”
“No, of course not,” Arizona whispered, casting her eyes downward.
“Then don’t do it to yourself.” He hesitated before reaching across the table and very carefully covered her hand with his own. “Some of us have had years to get to where we are today. You’ve barely had six months. If you’re willing to accept help, you’ll get there eventually.”
Arizona breathed in shakily and flexed her hand in a silent ‘thanks’. The lump in her throat kept her from replying right away.
“Some days I almost feel like I’m getting back to normal,” she said hoarsely. “Callie helps. She usually wakes me up before the nightmares get too bad, and I’m starting to talk to her more when I’m having a bad day.”
“This Callie sounds like a wonderful person,” he smiled.
“She’s amazing,” Arizona whispered, staring into her luke warm coffee, tracing a thumb over the handle. “She makes everything hurt less, as corny as that sounds.”
Dan’s rich laughter made her look up and he shook his head adamantly. “Not at all. I’m thankful every day that my wife came into my life when she did. I don’t blame my ex for leaving; things were really bad for a while, but Cassandra - the woman I’m married to now - has been there for me in ways that my ex never could. If Callie brings you even an ounce of the happiness Cassie does to me, then I’m relieved to know you have a support system that strong. You’re going to need it.”
That much Arizona already knew. It might have taken Teddy pointing out the obvious in the very beginning, but these days Arizona was well aware of how much good Callie had brought into her life. She never planned to take her for granted. Thinking about the brunette just made Arizona miss her that much more, especially after such an emotionally taxing day.
“I should probably get you home to your lady,” Dan said, as though reading her mind. Her fished out a few bills and tossed them on the table, waving off her attempts to add in her share.
As they headed for the exit, Arizona glanced over the counter. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Dan paused, brow furrowing.
“You’re supposed to be on dessert duty. Mark my words, she’ll lock you out of the house if you show up empty handed.”
He grinned and backpedalled to the bakery counter. “I have a feeling my wife is going to love you.”
***
Outside, a light rain had started to fall, dotting the sidewalks and thickening the air with moisture. The Sergeant was just offering Arizona a ride home when Callie’s Thunderbird rolled up to the curb with the window down.
“Looks like my ride is here,” Arizona grinned, waggling her fingers in a tiny wave.
“Hell of a car,” Dan murmured, scanning the exterior, obviously impressed.
Callie ducked down and peered out the window at them, smiling nervously. “I’m not stalking you guys, I swear. Saw the rain reports and figured I’d wait outside until you were done.”
Arizona was far from annoyed. After the day she’d had, Callie was the person she wanted to see most. “Perfect timing. Sergeant, this is Calliope. Calliope, this is Sergeant Daniel McGoudry.”
He lifted a hand in greeting as the rain picked up. “I suspect we’ll meet again under less hazardous conditions.”
“Sounds good,” Callie called over the noise. She reached over and popped open the passenger door latch.
Arizona turned to face her new acquaintance, shaking his hand again even though it seemed so formal for someone whom she’d had such a deep conversation with. “Thank you for everything.”
“My pleasure.” Dan pulled out his contact card and handed it over. “If you need anything before next week, give me a call. I’m happy to help.”
Arizona thanked him again just as the skies really started pouring cats and dogs. He waved her towards the car and held her crutch as she climbed in, then passed it over and closed the door. He pulled his jacket collar above his head and dashed in the direction of his car without so much as a backward glance.
Once in the sealed in the safety of the vehicle, Arizona closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the seat. Silence permeated the air, the pounding rain just about lulling her to sleep until Callie spoke, reminding her where they were.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Arizona lolled her head to the side, fixing her girlfriend with a tired but reassuring smile. “Tomorrow?”
There was no denying that she was curious as hell, but Callie wasn’t going to push the issue, so she nodded and let it go. If Arizona was finally willing to talk to someone, then she didn’t need to know all of the details herself. All that really mattered was that the other woman had help.
Arizona did plan to talk, just at a time when she had more energy to devote to the conversation. Right now she was happy to bask in the company of her girlfriend and focus on a relaxing evening together at home.
As Callie put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb, Arizona reached over and curved a hand across her warm thigh. “Thank you for coming.”
Callie glanced down, feeling some of her own nerves ease at the simple gesture. “Any time,” she whispered softly, peeling her eyes away from the road. “How about we order some Vietnamese when we get back? You must be starved.”
“No shrimp?”
“No shrimp,” Callie promised, grinning.
“That sounds perfect.” Arizona stifled a yawn and snuggled back into her seat. It wasn’t lost on her that not many women would have stuck around when it made more sense to run. The Sergeant himself had said that his current wife played a big part in his recovery. Arizona wasn’t naïve enough to think that she could do this all on her own, not anymore - Callie helped her see that, and she was determined not to screw it up for both of their sakes.
Meeting people like Daniel and Adam only served as an inspiration - if they could hit rock bottom and bounce back, then she had no excuses not to do the same.
“I’ve got an open bottle of pinot and a chocolate soufflé with your name on it,” Callie added as an afterthought.
Arizona groaned, squeezing her girlfriend’s thigh. “You just said the magic words.”
---
Scar Tissue (Part Two)
Chapter 27
Authors: kennedysbitch & livelovelearneg
Beta'd by englishstrawbie
Rating: NC-17 [Depictions of violence, PTSD, Language, Sexual Content]
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Disclaimer
Scar Tissue [masterpost]
Summary: When Arizona Robbins’ brother dies in Iraq, her life takes off in a completely different direction. Now a highly-rated trauma surgeon with the United States Marine Corps, she spends the three years following his death serving their country overseas - until an insurgent attack leaves her with debilitating injuries. Traveling to Seattle at her father’s request, she falls under the care of orthopedic surgeon Dr. Calliope Torres. Damaged emotionally and physically, Arizona tries to start the healing process with the help of a headstrong woman she never saw coming.
Part Two: Now free from the confines of a hospital bed for the first time
in almost five months, Arizona begins her physical and emotional recovery while
navigating a budding yet rocky relationship with Callie Torres.
Warnings: Depictions of violence, PTSD, Language, Sexual Content
Trailer:
Click to view---
Arizona felt twitchy and uncomfortable. Sitting still was becoming progressively harder as the group leader spent ten minutes circling the room, talking to each person that walked through the door, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. He appeared to recognize them all, making her the sole newbie of the bunch.
She sat in the back corner by herself, doing her best to ignore the curious glances being thrown her way by the patrons shuffling along the donut table. She wasn’t surprised; everyone else was male and had probably crossed paths with each other at some point in the past. Being the ‘new girl’ wasn’t exactly unfamiliar territory, given her father’s frequent transfers while she was growing up. Still, being the centre of attention, even in a minor capacity, made her squirmy.
It was hard not to indulge her curiosity and steal glances at each of them in return, studying their profiles as if to look for some outward sign that they were as messed up as she was. Outside of the OR, she’d had very little contact with other injured veterans. She saw the immediate aftermath but never where people ended up down the road, once their wounds were closed and a surgeon was no longer required. From what she could gather, some attendees were more talkative than others; otherwise they were all too hard to read.
About nine or ten people showed up in total. Arizona hadn’t known what to expect as far as numbers, given that this was one of only a handful of veteran support groups in the area. There were two others that she found listed on the internet; the fact that this one was the closest to her apartment and held on a Tuesday being the only reasons she had decided to attend. Callie usually worked in the evening on Tuesdays, barring any unforeseen circumstances or a switch in scheduling. Arizona had left a brief note explaining that she was checking out some leads, and that she would call later if she needed a ride. It was vague, but she would rather explain what she was doing in person, after she’d had an opportunity to check it out. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, there was always a chance that she wouldn’t be coming back. If that were the case, it would be better if Callie didn’t know the specifics.
After checking her watch for the tenth time, purely a nervous reflex, Arizona caught the eye of someone standing by the coffee thermos. Whereas most people would glance away politely, he continued to stare, making no efforts to hide his curiosity. He was tall and lanky, and held himself like he didn’t quite know how to handle his awkward body frame. A five o’clock shadow and dark circles under his eyes made it look as though he could use a good night’s sleep. She had yet to see him make conversation with any of the others, which wasn’t surprising given the distrusting way he glared at everyone who walked by. While her first instinct was to narrow her eyes and snap at him to take a picture, instead she forced out what hopefully passed for a friendly smile. He didn’t return it.
“Good evening, everyone,” the group leader, Dan, announced, drawing her attention to the front of the room. His voice wasn’t quite what she would call booming - her father’s voice, now that was booming - but everyone immediately fell silent and those left standing went to their seats. Most of them spaced themselves out closer to the front, while the twitchy guy sat three chairs to her right. She chided herself for tensing up and took in a steadying breath.
“Good to see you all again,” Dan continued, facing the room. “Sorry for the cancelation last week, I had to skip off to Portland on short notice.”
“Was it Monahan?” the awkward guy interrupted. Arizona detected a faint southern drawl, as though he had grown up there but hadn’t spent much time in the last ten years or so. He looked to be no older than twenty-four or twenty-five. Young, considering the subject matter at hand, but not completely out of place given how the war in the Middle East had been going for the past decade.
“What about him?” Dan asked patiently.
“He freak out again?” The guy’s mouth twitched. “Threaten to jump out another window?”
Dan fixed him with a stern look. “Play nice, Ben. You know I can’t discuss others when they’re not here.”
“He freaked out again,” Ben mumbled into his coffee. “Moron.”
Arizona frowned, wondering how he could be so dismissive.
Upon closer inspection, she noticed the tell-tale signs of recent surgery, scars running along his hairline and back behind his ear. He looked like he might have had plate work done in his face, though the surgeon responsible had managed to hide it fairly well. Anyone that wasn’t trained in the way she was probably wouldn’t notice right away.
“It’s good to see some new faces in the crowd,” Dan said, his gaze briefly flickering to Arizona. “I’ll start with my usual introduction. Those of you that have heard it before, feel free to tune me out.
“My name is Sergeant Dan McGoudry and I retired five years ago from the 75th Ranger Regiment. I was in direct combat more times than I can count. I’ve been shot on five occasions and shot at probably ten times as many. In 2003, my unit drove over an IED in eastern Iraq and it effectively ended my career.”
Arizona tightened her grip on the crutch, doing her best to ignore the blood suddenly rushing through her eardrums.
“It would take a whole day to list off the troubles I had after that,” he continued. “I lost most of the hearing on my left side and a good portion of that hand is now completely numb. Sometimes the back pain is so severe that it takes a whole pharmacy just to get out of bed in the morning. But the worst of it, by far, was never being able to let go of the accident that claimed nine lives and spared me. Four in the vehicle I was driving, five in the unit directly behind us.”
Arizona’s pulse quickened and a light sweat broke out beneath her jacket. She had seen a lot of incidents like the one he described; vehicles demolished by a high-powered explosive and the people inside of them shredded to pieces. It was a routine part of her job and yet hearing him talk about it was making her stomach churn.
That in itself was unsettling. Maybe she had pulled the trigger on this group therapy thing too soon. Maybe she wasn’t ready to hear any of this first-hand. Maybe-
“…lost my family, my friends…”
The Sergeant’s words trickled back into the edges of her consciousness. She realized that he was looking directly at her, a worry line creasing his brow. When they made eye contact, he gave a slight tilt of his head before continuing to sweep the room, never once breaking rhythm in his speech. Arizona tried to do a better job of looking passive.
“I know that many of you have heard me talk about this before. Some of you are probably wondering why I do it every time someone new comes in. I believe it’s important for you to know that I’ve been where you are. I remember how isolating it is, how lonely it feels, to think you’re the only one that can possibly know how dark some days can get. The inability to walk down the street without scanning the rooftops; the crippling onset of nerves you get at fireworks or when a loud car roars by; the nightmares, the flashbacks. The things that run through your mind and make you wonder how truly deranged you’ve become. The outbursts of violence that you never knew you had in you. I’m telling you that I went as far as rock bottom, with a pistol in my mouth, ready to make it all end, and that five years later I’m still standing here and talking to you about it.”
Arizona’s breath came in shallow bursts, blue eyes darting around the room, trying to decipher the reactions to such a blatant admission. Some of the attendees nodded, a few stared blankly into space, while others reclined further in their chairs and remained stony faced. She guessed that they had probably all heard it before.
Callie’s late night plea entered Arizona’s mind. At the time she had been completely honest, that suicide wasn’t something she had ever considered. Now, hearing an Army Ranger Sergeant talk about how close he came to ending his life, it terrified her how easy it could be to reach that state if she continued to let things slide. That wasn’t something she ever wanted to experience.
“I’m not here to make anyone relive their past,” Dan continued after a few moments had passed. “I’m never going to ask you to tell a room full of strangers what brought you here. What this is is a safe place to talk about anything and everything you feel you need to, including that trauma, if and when you choose. If anyone has good news to share, things you’ve accomplished in the last week, I encourage you to do so. At some point we’ve all felt like it would never get better, so it helps to hear that someone else has beaten those odds.”
He smoothed a hand across his clean-shaven cheek and pulled a chair over, easing into it with a stiffness that signalled some sort of physical discomfort. “The aim of these sessions is to have you leave with another tool in your toolbox - coping mechanisms, skills you can put to use when things get rough. You all know how little it can take to turn a good day into a bad one. I’m here to show you how to manage your symptoms and take back some control in your life.”
It sounded so easy, yet Arizona knew it was about as hard a task as they had ever been given. No one there was naïve enough to think they could solve all of their problems with a simple set of ‘coping mechanisms’. But it was a place to start and there was network of support to back each other up. Having some ‘tools in her toolbox’ didn’t sound like a terrible idea, considering she was pretty toolless at the moment. Running to Callie every time she had a bad thought wasn’t going to help either of them get any sleep at night.
When Dan finished his monologue, he opened the floor to anyone who wanted to speak. Two different gentleman stood up and addressed the room, one in his early to mid-thirties, the other nearing fifty. Each of them talked about a personal triumph - the younger man having gone to the mall on Saturday for a full hour, the older for extending his hours at his new civilian job.
To the general public, none of that would have seemed worth kicking up a fuss over. Even without knowing their individual stories, Arizona applauded along with everyone else. She was well aware of the challenges faced by a lot of veterans, especially when it came to crowd control and socializing. A busy shopping mall could send grown men ducking for cover or reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there in his civies. She had experienced her own issues with crowding at the wharf and knew that she was probably far better off than a lot of the others. Grocery shopping on the weekends was uncomfortable but not crippling. She’d never experienced that nagging sensation telling her that someone was watching her every move, lying in wait.
The men returned to their seats and Dan gathered up a stack of folders. He walked down the centre aisle and handed them out. As Ben was sitting the closest, Dan handed him two packets for the row. Ben swivelled and passed one to Arizona.
“You’re new,” he said bluntly, before she could even murmur so much as a ‘thank you’. His gaze travelled to the crutch she was holding onto like a lifeline. “What happened to your legs?”
“Ben,” Dan warned. “We don’t ask people those questions here. It’s her first day, leave her be.”
“Sorry,” Ben shrugged, not looking entirely put off. He flipped through the booklet and quickly lost interest in Arizona.
Under normal circumstances, Arizona would have been more open to introducing herself and making small talk. Unfortunately, the ball of nerves that had settled in her gut was making it difficult to speak, keeping her on edge. To distract herself, she flipped through the booklet, aptly titled ‘Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and You: How to Reintroduce Stability Back into Your Life’. She snorted on reflex, drawing a few glances from the others.
“Some of you have seen this before,” Dan explained. “It’s an updated version that I received last week. It’s a simplified step-by-step process describing exactly how to manage your symptoms. It even includes a helpful CD that talks you through breathing and muscle exercises, which we’ll work on tonight.”
Apparently Arizona wasn’t the only one who found this to be a bit ridiculous, because most of the others seated around her laughed. If reading a fifteen page book was all it took to overcome PTSD, then none of them would be there in the first place.
“I know, I know, but at the very least, it lists the steps I’m about to go through,” Dan said with a hearty grin. “That can be helpful when going over them with friends and family, or for a quick and easy reminder of the basics when you’re on your own. If you guys - and gal - could indulge me for ten minutes, flip to section one and we’ll start with some breathing exercises. These are most useful when you’re starting to feel a little on edge and need a moment to yourself. If you’ve already been working on it at home, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Slumping in her chair, Arizona released a heavy sigh and peeled open the first page, reminding herself that she was supposed to be keeping an open mind. If she went in thinking negatively, then she was already dooming herself to failure.
***
The meeting lasted almost two hours from start to finish. The second half was spent on a combination of deep relaxation breathing and something called progressive muscle relaxation. The latter involved localized tensing and subsequent relaxation of core muscle groups, the point being to train the body to recognize what relaxation felt like. Many post-traumatic stress sufferers were permanently tense, often without realizing it. Targeting specific areas and going through the motions of relaxing tight muscle groups was supposed to make it easier to accomplish on command. It was another ‘tool’ for helping to deal with their disability, one that Dan said he used almost every day himself.
That was what he had called it, a disability. Arizona suddenly had no idea which one of her shortcomings was more crippling, the physical or the emotional. Together they made quite the rag-tag team.
It was almost 9:30pm when she struggled from her chair, wiped out from a mixture of first-time nerves and an hour of stress-relieving exercises that she hadn’t quite been able to master in a room full of strangers. She recognized the potential benefits and fully planned on practicing them at home, where she could get comfortable; it just wasn’t happening for her tonight.
Pulling on her jacket and exiting behind the initial rush, Arizona concentrated on using her bad leg for the trip to the elevator, ignoring the strain from an afternoon of working out and walking. She was pushing herself to move through the pain as much as possible these days, even during the more difficult times. It was the only way she would ever learn to compensate and work up enough endurance to be on her feet twelve hours a day in a fast-paced job environment.
Put like that, the task seemed ludicrous and impossible.
As she left the elevator and stepped into the lobby, she spotted Sergeant McGoudry with two men - one of them Ben, the other a younger gentleman in a wheelchair. His dark hair was already streaked with summer highlights, reminding her of Timothy the last time he had returned from active duty at the height of the dry season. A muscular frame capped off around his waist, signalling hours spent at the gym, compensating the need for upper body strength in order to get around.
Her gaze automatically fell to his legs. The double amputation caught her off guard - one above knee, one below. It wasn’t a stretch to assume that he was a soldier, even though she hadn’t seen him at the meeting with everyone else. He would have been hard to miss.
It was his laughter that rang out across the atrium, a bright grin rooted firmly in place as he rolled backwards and popped a miniature wheelie for the entertainment of his buddies. He wasn’t shy about his injuries, sporting athletic shorts and no protective sock coverings to hide the amputations from plain view. Arizona instantly admired how at ease he seemed, the definition of relaxation and care-free, when life had dealt him an even shittier hand of cards than it had her.
She was still reeling from the last few hours and wasn’t exactly feeling very sociable, so she made a quiet beeline for the door, fervently hoping that no one would notice her on the way out. Once there, she could call Callie and use the phone as an excuse to keep to herself, like the good little hermit she was quickly becoming.
“Dr. Robbins!”
Or not. She froze mid-step and turned to see all three men staring directly at her - being stealthy while clunking a metal stick along the floor was a lot harder than it seemed.
Dan waved her over and, after a brief hesitation, she hobbled in their direction. With any luck, she could make this fast and be out of there before she stuck her foot in her mouth and said something stupid.
“Benjamin, Adam, this is Lieutenant-Commander Arizona Robbins,” Sergeant McGoudry introduced her. “She’s a Navel surgeon working with the Marines, and the newest member of our clan.”
Arizona smiled shyly and gave an awkward little wave. “Hi.”
Ben continued to stare unabashedly, while Adam, presumably the one in the wheelchair, cocked an eyebrow at the oldest of the bunch. “Damn, Serg. We have girls now? I chose a crappy night to play basketball.”
A hint of confusion must have registered in Arizona’s expression as they shook hands, because Adam immediately broke into a playful grin. “Prosthetics, man. I can jump higher than Jordan.”
“He’s lying,” Ben cut in. “There’s a wheelchair basketball league that practices on Tuesdays. He’s not very good.”
Adam scowled and rammed the nearest wheel into Ben’s foot. “Jerk. You’re supposed to help me impress the pretty doctor, not step all over my game.”
Despite the butterflies she had been housing in her stomach all night, Arizona laughed at the exchange. “Actually, the idea of coordinating a wheelchair and a ball the size of my head is pretty impressive. I can barely carry a dinner plate and operate a crutch at the same time.”
Adam looked pleased with himself. “You get used to it. Though with any luck, you won’t have to. How’s the rehab going?”
Arizona peered down at her leg, flexing the joint out of habit. “Hurts like a bitch, but I’m managing.”
“Adam was a regular here for two years,” Dan explained. “He’s now in the process of getting a psychology degree, with aspirations of becoming a mental health counsellor himself.”
“I’m his pride and joy,” Adam bragged, jerking a thumb in the Sergeant’s direction.
Ben snorted, opening his mouth to argue, only to clam up when he realized that Arizona’s attention had shifted to him. His jaw tightened and he shoved both hands into his pockets, staring hard at the floor.
“He’s definitely a source of inspiration, I’ll give him that,” Dan allowed, causing the younger soldier to beam.
It amazed Arizona how upbeat and radiant Adam was, given the difficult, life-long challenges he faced due to his injuries. It sent a throb of guilt through her chest - here she was, standing on two legs and sulking, while he faced far more adversity and did it with a smile on his face. She was pathetic.
“Rewind twelve months and the only thing I was an inspiration for was a Xanax ad,” Adam replied, indicating his wheels. “If it weren’t for Serg here, I don’t think I would’ve made it this far. I owe it all to him and my therapist for kicking my ass into gear.”
Arizona felt completely stunted when it came to carrying on a conversation with these guys. While she had been able to channel her focus in the meeting earlier, feelings of inadequacy came roaring back now. Things could have been so much worse - Adam was living proof of that - and yet she still couldn’t function on a normal, daily basis.
“I hate to cut and roll, but I’ve gotta head home,” Adam apologized, grabbing a duffel from the floor and situating it on his lap. “Sasha gets restless when she’s alone for too long.”
“Girlfriend?” Arizona asked in an attempt to be friendly.
“She fetches my slippers and opens cupboards on command. She’s a keeper.”
“There’s a service centre that trains dogs for veterans with disabilities,” Dan explained before Arizona could raise an eyebrow at the implications. “Adam’s just taken in a black lab named Sasha. He likes the arrangement; can’t say for sure if the dog feels the same.”
“She loves me,” Adam chuckled, flashing Arizona a big smile and shaking her hand a second time. “Great to meet you, doc. Hope to see you back here again.”
“Thanks,” Arizona murmured, feeling most of the air deflate from her lungs.
As he swivelled around and headed for the exit, a few stragglers from the meeting came up from the stairwell. Dan turned to greet them and Arizona took the opportunity to excuse herself. She headed in the same direction Adam had gone, counted the seconds until she was sure he would be far enough away, then stepped outside.
A gust of cold air would have helped immensely with her sudden spike in temperature, but it was a humid night and Arizona found no relief. Her arm shook violently against the crutch and she clambered over to the side of the building, hoping to hide underneath the cover of darkness.
The wave that hit her was two parts overwhelming and another six parts of grief. So many of these people had been through and seen things worse than she had, and yet she felt miles behind the rest of the curve. All of them were getting better; she felt nowhere even close to it. Her leg was healing while three nights ago she had woken up all but screaming from some unseen nightmare, terrifying Callie and setting herself back who knew how much. Coming here was supposed to help, and instead she felt even worse than she had before.
Arizona sagged against the brick wall, dangerously close to her legs giving out, and hunched forward to catch her breath. Fingernails dug into the fabric of her jeans, squeezing each thigh in an attempt to keep herself grounded. The last freaking thing she needed was another panic attack in a public forum.
As she worked hard not to hyperventilate, the door swung open to her right, startling her back into the present. Dan appeared with Ben in tow, keys jangling as he locked up the building. Any hopes of remaining unnoticed were torpedoed when he immediately spotted her in the shadows.
Ben shuffled impatiently behind him, eyeballing Arizona with the same scrutiny that one does a foaming rottweiler. “You okay?”
Arizona straightened up, sucking in a sharp breath and willing her voice to remain steady. “Yeah, I’m great.”
“Have a good night, Ben,” Dan said lightly, touching him on the shoulder. “Drive safe, okay?”
Taking the hint, Ben shrugged and started for his car at a brisk walk, staring into every dark corner the parking lot had to offer. The mark of a true soldier, Arizona thought idly.
“I know he seems abrasive,” Dan spoke, moving closer. “He’s harmless, he just has trouble adjusting to new people. You’ll be less of a spectacle next week now that he knows you’re here.”
“He seems…” Arizona trailed off, not wanting to be a jerk and say ‘weird’. She was pretty weird some days too, especially when it came to falling out of bed, screaming in her sleep, and collapsing in the middle of public places.
“He’s been through a lot. It’s good that he comes here; I think he enjoys the interaction. He doesn’t get much of it on his own. He’s not quite ready to go back to work yet.”
“What happened?” she asked without thinking. She was wary of sounding too invasive, but she was curious, and it served as a distraction from the mini heart attack she felt like she was having. “I-I mean, I’m a surgeon, I couldn’t help but notice some of the scarring on the side of his face. He was hurt?”
Dan nodded without expanding on the subject, and she immediately assumed she had overstepped some sort of boundary. Not a great impression to make on the first day.
“Sorry,” she blushed. “This is all really new to me. I don’t know how these group things work, if it’s anonymous or not.”
“No harm in asking,” Dan shrugged. “I try not to talk about other members if they’re not present to consent. Some folks prefer to sit and listen, without making any connections to their every day life. In Ben’s case, he doesn’t really mind when I explain his situation to others. The more people that know, the easier it is for him.”
“Blast injury?” Arizona found it easier to keep talking about the medical side of things. It didn’t stop the shaking or quell the low-level nausea, but it did help to keep her mind from clouding up. To her dismay, a drizzle of sweat rolled down her temple, which she quickly swiped at with her sleeve. Dan was keeping his gaze focused straight forward, drawing no attention to her distress as she worked on stabilizing herself. Those breathing exercises they had just learned didn’t seem to be helping.
“He was hurt two years ago in Afghanistan,” he said. “He was left with some residual brain damage as a result.”
Arizona licked her lips. “He seems to be doing pretty well, considering.”
“Ben has some trouble filtering, so to speak. Whatever he thinks, he says. All you have to do is tell him not to ask a certain question, or not to stare, and he’ll understand that it’s not acceptable,” Dan explained. “There are no hard feelings with that guy. He knows his disability and has learned to live with it. Once people understand that he’s not coming from a predatory or invasive place, he’s actually quite interesting to talk to. He’ll tell you exactly what he thinks about a situation, that’s for sure.”
Arizona immediately felt guilty for thinking that Ben was a creep when she first met him. Now that she knew better, she understood the physical and psychological repercussions from such an injury. She should have taken the time to reserve judgement. As a doctor - a military doctor - she knew better.
The conversation fell off after that but Dan seemed in no hurry to leave or get on with his evening. Arizona knew he was sticking around for her sake, and, even though she barely knew the guy, she was relieved not to be alone. Tonight had hit her ten times harder than she had imagined it would. It was embarrassing.
Gradually, she pieced together the jumbled mess that was her brain, fixing it with enough tape and glue to get her home and into bed with Callie at the very least. After that, all bets were off.
“Where did you park?”
Blinking rapidly, Arizona fished for the phone in her bag. “I took a cab,” she mumbled. “Probably should’ve called before the meeting ended.”
“I don’t mind waiting.”
The guilt came roaring back. “You don’t have to, I’ll be fine. My, um - m-my friend should be off work by now. She can pick me up.”
“I hope you don’t take this as me being a chauvinistic pig, ma’am, but I’m not keen on leaving a woman alone in a dark parking lot late at night,” Dan said slowly. “I’m sure you can take care of yourself; however, I would feel much better waiting.”
Arizona genuinely smiled for the first time in hours. “You’re very kind. Not pig-ish at all.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” He leaned back next to her, the picture of contentment.
As she dialled Callie’s number and waited for her to pick up, Arizona caught him glancing subtly at his watch. “Really, if you’ve got some place to be-”
“Actually, I was just thinking,” Dan interrupted. “If you’re not too exhausted, you should join me for coffee. There’s a diner just down the road. The food’s not great, but it isn’t awful, either.”
Arizona balked, her social skills so far deteriorated that she couldn’t tell if he was asking her out or just being friendly.
“I go there after every meeting,” Dan was quick to add, probably sensing her hesitation. “Usually with other attendees. Tonight I was on my own. I know pretty much everyone in our little circle by now and you’re the first new member we’ve had in several weeks. It would be an honour to get to know more about you, Dr. Robbins.” His smile was genuine and unassuming. “Nothing more than small talk and pie. I won’t make you dig up any demons, I promise.”
“Arizona?
Callie’s voice on the other end of the line caught the blonde’s attention. “Hey, sorry. Hold on a sec,” she spoke into the receiver before covering it with her palm.
Dan had pulled out his own cell. “Take your time. I’m going to call my wife and see if she wants me to bring home some late night dessert.”
Seeing the glint of a wedding band helped Arizona relax. She wondered if this was the same woman that had left him during his worst stages of PTSD or if it was a new marriage. He stepped away to make the call and she returned her attention to Callie’s.
“Is everything okay?” Callie asked, concerned. “I just got home and saw your note. Do you need a ride?”
“Actually, um…” Arizona glanced over her shoulder, mulling the invitation. “I just got an asked to go out for coffee with a…friend. He’s part of this vet group thing.” She fidgeted, wondering what Callie would think of her being here. “For, y’know, PTSD a-and stuff.”
A light bulb went on in Callie’s head. “Oh,” she exclaimed, trying to hide her surprise. “That’s great! I mean, it’s good. I’m glad that you’re…h-how did it go?”
“Good, I think,” Arizona sighed, allowing herself to ease back against the wall. Hearing her girlfriend’s voice helped squash the turmoil she was feeling into a more manageable level. “It’s all very new. The guy running it knows some helpful stuff, though. He was just asking if I would join him for a late night caffeine fix. He wants to get to know the newbie.”
“Are you comfortable with that?” Callie asked. “Because I can totally put my foot down and say no, if it’ll help.”
Arizona grinned into the phone, more of her discomfort melting away. “You’re sweet, but that’s not necessary. I think I’ll take him up on the offer, if it’s okay with you?”
“Yeah, of course,” Callie said in a rush, trying not to sound too eager. “Just call me when you need to be picked up. And text me the address and this guy’s full name, so I know who to hunt down if you go missing.”
“Will do, Chief.”
Callie hesitated, wishing she was there in person to gauge Arizona’s well-being for herself. “You’re really okay?”
“I’m…coping,” Arizona allowed. “Not a hundred percent, dancing, ‘the hills are alive’ kind of amazing, but doing alright. Looking forward to curling up on the couch with you and eating popcorn or something else extremely mundane and familiar. I’ve had just about enough self-reflectance for one night.”
“That can be arranged,” Callie chuckled. “Enjoy yourself. I’m jealous; I haven’t socialized with people I don’t work with in like…two years.”
“I kinda like it that way,” Arizona said slyly. “Means I get you all to myself.”
“My lack of a social life definitely improved your chances when we first met.”
“Ouch,” Arizona laughed. “Next you’ll tell me that I wasn’t your first doctor-patient romance.”
“Just make sure you drink decaf, dork,” Callie mused. “And have fun. Call me as soon as you need a ride.”
“I will.” Arizona bit her lip, wishing Callie were with her right now. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Arizona hung up and spotted Dan a short distance away, giving her the privacy to finish the call. “So, you said this place has pie. Is it good pie?”
Dan shrugged and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. “Not particularly. Does that change your mind?”
“I’m willing to try anything once,” Arizona smirked, adjusting her crutch and following him to his car.
***
The diner was straight out of the 1950s, complete with the red vinyl booths, parlour stools and rounded windows facing onto the street. It was clean, at least, and didn’t look like it had deteriorated too much in the last fifty years. The pie was substandard and the coffee tasted like…well, diner coffee. Everything was edible, no matter how minimally, so they sat in a window booth and focused on their respective desserts.
After a few minutes of solid silence, during which she struggled to figure out what to say, Arizona finally dropped her fork. “This is probably hard to believe, but I’m not usually such a social leper. Tonight just kinda threw me off.”
Dan sipped his coffee and chuckled. “No pressure, remember? We can sit here counting ceiling tiles if you like. I’m in no rush.”
“You don’t want to play twenty questions? Get to know the woman behind the walking disaster? I thought that was your thing.”
“Only if you’re up for it.” He studied her over the rim of his mug. “As I said, I’m never going to push the subject. I believe it’s counter productive to make someone relive their most troubling moments when they feel forced into it. And you’re not a disaster, by the way. You seem to be doing remarkably well.”
Arizona nearly burst out laughing until she realized that he was serious. “Oh, wow. I must be a better actress than I thought.”
Dan waited quietly for her to expand - or to change the subject - once again exuding enough patience for her to suspect he was a robot.
Deciding that she would rather put the situation - and herself - into context, especially if they would be meeting on a semi-regular basis, Arizona wrapped both palms around her coffee mug and gave him the cliffnotes version.
“I enlisted after my brother died a few years ago. Our father is a Colonel, so we kind of grew up with the lifestyle. I headed an FRSS and deployed twice out of Baghdad.”
“Good people on those teams,” Dan replied, nodding in recognition. “Saved a lot of lives.”
Arizona hummed. “We had a very good unit. Efficient. It was gruesome work but it was worth it. I felt like I was making a real difference. Saw some awful things that I wish I hadn’t, things no one should ever have to...” She shook it off. “Then one day we got hit. I took the worst of a mortar blast in the leg. A lot of people died.” Her brow creased as she struggled to remember more than blurred shapes and fuzzy sounds. “Since then, it’s been…hard to readjust. I was in and out of the hospital for a long time.”
“May I ask what you’re having the most difficulty with?”
He said it casually while stirring creamer into his coffee, giving Arizona pause to consider. He wasn’t going out of his way to sound empathetic or pushy; his grey eyes focused intently on hers without giving her the sense that she was under pressure to answer. He cared, but only so far as she was willing to share. She appreciated his approach to the whole process.
“The unprovoked nightmares,” Arizona finally admitted. “And there have been a few instances with some pretty intense flashbacks. Brought on by loud noises, mostly; times when I’ve let my guard down.”
“Sounds like the physical rehab is a bit of a cakewalk in comparison.”
Arizona smirked, bobbing her head in agreement. Wasn’t that the truth.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, the distant feelers of a headache reaching out in ominous forewarning. “Some days are better than others, some are worse. It’s all so erratic. I think that’s the most frustrating thing, I can have a great day and then wake up terrified of something I can’t even remember. It’s exhausting.”
“Do you think they’re memories? Or a mix of everything you’ve been through?”
Arizona thought about it. “Both? I can recall instances that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget. People getting killed, the day I got hurt, etcetera. But I swear, sometimes I wake up feeling like I’ve been running for my life and I’ve got no idea where it’s coming from.”
“That’s fairly common. The nightmares aren’t always an exact reflection of your experiences.”
“It almost feels like it would be easier if they were. At least then I could try and make some sense of them.”
“These things never make sense. It’s an unfortunate side effect.”
“They don’t make a pill for that?” Arizona asked, making him laugh.
Sergeant McGoudry’s quiet, confident nature was making it way too easy for Arizona to spill her guts to a virtual stranger. By the time she realized how much she was saying, it was too late to take any of it back. He was smiling, though, making her feel like somewhat less of an idiot.
“It must have taken a lot of strength to come here tonight. I’m glad you did, Dr. Robbins.”
“Please, call me Arizona,” she said sheepishly. “Given that I pretty much just told you my life’s story, I think we should be on a first name basis.”
“That’s a very unique name,” Dan said curiously. “Any story behind it?”
Happy for the chance to get away from her sordid past, Arizona scooped up a forkful of pie, suddenly finding her appetite had returned. “My grandfather served on the USS Arizona during Pearl Harbour. My parents thought it suited a daughter more than a son, so I drew the short straw.”
Idle chit chat filled the next few minutes, Arizona finding that she enjoyed the Sergeant’s company. He was a kind and caring man, and he obviously felt passionate about helping others that were going through what he had fought so hard against in the past. He was the first person outside of Teddy and Callie that she had connected with in months - maybe even in the years since Timothy’s death.
“After six months in a military hospital, I could barely function as a civilian,” Dan explained as the conversation shifted to his life. “I replaced socializing with alcohol. The more isolated I felt, the more I drank. The more I drank, the worse the nightmares became, and the worse the nightmares became, the more my waking reality deteriorated. I still have bad days, don’t get me wrong, but nothing like it used to be. I’ve been sober for four years.”
“I can’t imagine having a blackout that lasted almost five months,” Arizona murmured, shaking her head in amazement.
“Trust me when I say that you never want to find out.” Dan relaxed into the booth, stretching his arm across the top. “After I lost my wife and two kids, I thought I didn’t want to live anymore. I came within an inch of killing myself before I accepted the help I needed. I don’t ever want anyone to get as far down the hole as I did.”
“You’re doing a good thing,” Arizona said earnestly. “I wasn’t ready to go sit in a psychiatrist’s office and be told that I’m going crazy. Not yet. This…it helps. As mind-numbingly terrified as I still am about the whole thing, I’ve never talked to anyone about it all before.”
“Different things work for different people,” he agreed. “You do what works for you.” He finished his coffee and signalled the waitress for more. “Do you have family in Seattle? Friends?”
“Not initially, though I have someone now,” Arizona said. “Two someones, actually. I came here to have surgery and didn’t know a single person within three hundred miles. Eventually my best friend, someone I served with, moved here for a job and decided to stick around.”
“I’m glad to hear it. You’ll need them in the coming months.”
Arizona tried and failed to hold back a mushy grin when she thought of Callie, too, and all that she had done for her since they’d met. Dan must have noticed a peculiar look on her face.
“What?”
“I kind of met someone new,” she admitted. “In the romantic sense, which is weird, considering what a wreck I’ve been.”
“I’m sensing a story here,” Dan said coyly. “How does one find love while sitting in a hospital bed, presumably in a state of traction?”
That made Arizona blush. “It’s complicated.”
“Oh come on. You can’t leave me hanging at the best part.”
Arizona chewed on her bottom lip. “You’re going to think this is ridiculous.”
“Try me.”
Explaining her relationship with Callie was the last thing Arizona had thought she would be doing tonight, but if the last half an hour had taught her anything, it was that talking didn’t hurt quite as much as she thought it would.
“I’m sort of dating my surgeon,” she said slowly, well aware that she sounded like a crazy person. “We’re living together, actually, since I didn’t have an apartment prior to arriving in Seattle.” She laughed at the way his brow shot straight up in surprise. “It’s not as inappropriate as it sounds! Nothing happened until after I was out of the hospital, honestly. And she’s amazing, I don’t know what I would have done without-”
Arizona balked as soon as she realized her slip-up. Even with ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’ still alive and kicking, she had dropped her guard after eight months of inactivity.
Way to firebomb her own recovery efforts. Fuck.
“I didn’t - I-I mean-”
“Dr. Robbins - Arizona,” he broke in, resting his elbows on the table and keeping his voice low. “I have no affiliation with the military anymore, nor does our group, not in any official capacity. You can speak freely without fear of repercussions, I promise you that.”
Arizona half smiled, half grimaced. “I guess this is why I didn’t sign up for Covert Ops, huh?”
“There are many things wrong with the state of the military,” Dan said as the waitress refilled his mug, waiting until she moved onto the next table before continuing. “The worst being the utter lack of respect for injured veterans and their long term care, and the insidious piece of paper outlining ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’. I happen to know that my life has been saved by a gay man on more than one occasion. Fucking government has no right to tell its people who to love while they’re taking bullets and bombs for their country - excuse my language. My wife would have my tongue if she heard me now.”
Arizona let out a bark of laughter, the tension in her shoulders slipping away. “Amen to that,” she mused. “I guess I shouldn’t be too worried. With this bum leg I’m dragging around, I doubt I’d ever be able to go back. Whether or not I want to is an entirely different story.”
“I think we’ve all fought that battle inside our own heads,” Dan agreed. “It’s even harder when you’ve already got voices and images floating around in there that don’t belong.”
“I’m amazed at how good a place you seem to be in,” Arizona admitted. “After what you told the group, I just kept thinking that if it was me, I don’t think I ever would’ve come back from it.”
“But you are coming back,” he argued. “Being here tonight proves it.”
“I thought I came for the pie,” Arizona joked weakly. He didn’t go for the deflection, instead waiting for her to supply a legitimate response. Again, she squirmed in her seat. “Honestly? I felt like kind of a fraud tonight.”
That seemed to surprise him. “What makes you say that?”
Arizona released a heavy sigh. “I’m not…I wasn’t a soldier, not in the same way the rest of you were. I mean look at Ben, look at Adam - they’ve got mountains the size of Everest to overcome and they’re taking it all in stride. I look at myself and feel like an idiot. What have I got to complain about? I still have my leg, my hands, my cognitive functions. I’m thinking of going back to work in the next few months. I have no right to be this screwed up when they’re-”
“Don’t be a fool,” Dan cut in, fixing her with a very pointed stare. “The first thing you need to realize is that you can’t compare yourself to anyone else. No one is better or worse off than their peers. Your experiences are just as legitimate as theirs; under no circumstances should you ‘suck it up’ and get over whatever happened to you.”
“Okay, but-”
“What would you say to someone who was never injured?” he interrupted again. “Someone that didn’t drive over an IED or didn’t get caught in the crossfire or hit by an RPG, and yet they still had nightmares because of the things they experienced? Would you tell them that it doesn’t matter?”
“No, of course not,” Arizona whispered, casting her eyes downward.
“Then don’t do it to yourself.” He hesitated before reaching across the table and very carefully covered her hand with his own. “Some of us have had years to get to where we are today. You’ve barely had six months. If you’re willing to accept help, you’ll get there eventually.”
Arizona breathed in shakily and flexed her hand in a silent ‘thanks’. The lump in her throat kept her from replying right away.
“Some days I almost feel like I’m getting back to normal,” she said hoarsely. “Callie helps. She usually wakes me up before the nightmares get too bad, and I’m starting to talk to her more when I’m having a bad day.”
“This Callie sounds like a wonderful person,” he smiled.
“She’s amazing,” Arizona whispered, staring into her luke warm coffee, tracing a thumb over the handle. “She makes everything hurt less, as corny as that sounds.”
Dan’s rich laughter made her look up and he shook his head adamantly. “Not at all. I’m thankful every day that my wife came into my life when she did. I don’t blame my ex for leaving; things were really bad for a while, but Cassandra - the woman I’m married to now - has been there for me in ways that my ex never could. If Callie brings you even an ounce of the happiness Cassie does to me, then I’m relieved to know you have a support system that strong. You’re going to need it.”
That much Arizona already knew. It might have taken Teddy pointing out the obvious in the very beginning, but these days Arizona was well aware of how much good Callie had brought into her life. She never planned to take her for granted. Thinking about the brunette just made Arizona miss her that much more, especially after such an emotionally taxing day.
“I should probably get you home to your lady,” Dan said, as though reading her mind. Her fished out a few bills and tossed them on the table, waving off her attempts to add in her share.
As they headed for the exit, Arizona glanced over the counter. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Dan paused, brow furrowing.
“You’re supposed to be on dessert duty. Mark my words, she’ll lock you out of the house if you show up empty handed.”
He grinned and backpedalled to the bakery counter. “I have a feeling my wife is going to love you.”
***
Outside, a light rain had started to fall, dotting the sidewalks and thickening the air with moisture. The Sergeant was just offering Arizona a ride home when Callie’s Thunderbird rolled up to the curb with the window down.
“Looks like my ride is here,” Arizona grinned, waggling her fingers in a tiny wave.
“Hell of a car,” Dan murmured, scanning the exterior, obviously impressed.
Callie ducked down and peered out the window at them, smiling nervously. “I’m not stalking you guys, I swear. Saw the rain reports and figured I’d wait outside until you were done.”
Arizona was far from annoyed. After the day she’d had, Callie was the person she wanted to see most. “Perfect timing. Sergeant, this is Calliope. Calliope, this is Sergeant Daniel McGoudry.”
He lifted a hand in greeting as the rain picked up. “I suspect we’ll meet again under less hazardous conditions.”
“Sounds good,” Callie called over the noise. She reached over and popped open the passenger door latch.
Arizona turned to face her new acquaintance, shaking his hand again even though it seemed so formal for someone whom she’d had such a deep conversation with. “Thank you for everything.”
“My pleasure.” Dan pulled out his contact card and handed it over. “If you need anything before next week, give me a call. I’m happy to help.”
Arizona thanked him again just as the skies really started pouring cats and dogs. He waved her towards the car and held her crutch as she climbed in, then passed it over and closed the door. He pulled his jacket collar above his head and dashed in the direction of his car without so much as a backward glance.
Once in the sealed in the safety of the vehicle, Arizona closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the seat. Silence permeated the air, the pounding rain just about lulling her to sleep until Callie spoke, reminding her where they were.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Arizona lolled her head to the side, fixing her girlfriend with a tired but reassuring smile. “Tomorrow?”
There was no denying that she was curious as hell, but Callie wasn’t going to push the issue, so she nodded and let it go. If Arizona was finally willing to talk to someone, then she didn’t need to know all of the details herself. All that really mattered was that the other woman had help.
Arizona did plan to talk, just at a time when she had more energy to devote to the conversation. Right now she was happy to bask in the company of her girlfriend and focus on a relaxing evening together at home.
As Callie put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb, Arizona reached over and curved a hand across her warm thigh. “Thank you for coming.”
Callie glanced down, feeling some of her own nerves ease at the simple gesture. “Any time,” she whispered softly, peeling her eyes away from the road. “How about we order some Vietnamese when we get back? You must be starved.”
“No shrimp?”
“No shrimp,” Callie promised, grinning.
“That sounds perfect.” Arizona stifled a yawn and snuggled back into her seat. It wasn’t lost on her that not many women would have stuck around when it made more sense to run. The Sergeant himself had said that his current wife played a big part in his recovery. Arizona wasn’t naïve enough to think that she could do this all on her own, not anymore - Callie helped her see that, and she was determined not to screw it up for both of their sakes.
Meeting people like Daniel and Adam only served as an inspiration - if they could hit rock bottom and bounce back, then she had no excuses not to do the same.
“I’ve got an open bottle of pinot and a chocolate soufflé with your name on it,” Callie added as an afterthought.
Arizona groaned, squeezing her girlfriend’s thigh. “You just said the magic words.”
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