"Mark." Voice tiny, scared.
"Callie?" Normal volume, curious. Worried.
"I think she's moving on." She's lying on the couch, an empty bottle of wine next to her, another halfway through – inebriated, heartbroken; she doesn't understand how she got here, but she knows. She remembers. Snapshot images of picnics in the park and heelies, kisses in the elevator and against the wall in the on-call room; everyone always says you never know your last kiss is your last, but they'd known. Red and blue and fire and ice and passion, Arizona pushing her into the back wall of the elevator and she didn't want this to end.
All good things come to an end.
"Why?" He's lying on the other sofa, propped up on one elbow. One empty bottle of beer; he's keeping an eye on her. He remembers the last time someone broke her; tequila and hangovers for days on end. He thinks if he's there, it won't be so bad.
"I saw her. At work. With – with a brunette." She's choking the words out, tears hot on their heels – she doesn't want this to be real. She remembers when Arizona asked if they were girlfriends, the super magic smile when Callie had said yes, duh, because she'd stayed over seven nights in a row and she fit into Callie's arms just right, and because the shade of her eyes set off fireworks in Callie's heart. She remembers Arizona telling her she had beautiful hair, one time, their second date maybe. She wonders how she came to be so replaceable to everyone she ever fell in love with; there's only one Callie Torres, but girls like her are a dime a dozen.
"Cal" – he's shaking his head – "that doesn't mean a thing. I saw you today at work with a blonde, but you're not moving on with Altman." You're not moving on at all, he thinks; two weeks and she's still out for the count. It's never been this bad before and he thinks, maybe she was right – maybe she and Arizona were for real, forever love.
"I don't want to move on," she whispers. Her face is covered in mascara and tears and it's hard to even breathe when she thinks of Arizona growing old and moving on with someone else; someone else with a greater claim to Arizona's love and that smile than Callie.
"You're gonna be okay," he tries to reassure her. "You'll get through this. And afterwards, there'll be people lining up for you."
She doesn't answer, she's crying too hard.