Title: Far Away, Long Ago

Author: HandsThatHeal

Pairing: Callie/Arizona

Rating: M/NC-17 (For Future Chapters)

Summary: When Henry falls ill with an unexplained illness, Emma Swan anxiously enlists the help of a friend from her past in the form of pediatric surgeon, Arizona Robbins. What will happen when Arizona and her newlywed wife, Calliope Torres arrive to help? Will the residents of Storybrooke be able to keep their magical secrets? Or will the presence of Callie and Arizona stir up more magic and more secrets than anyone ever could have imagined?

Disclaimer: All television shows, books, movies, songs, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work and the characters, events, and settings thereof are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

AN: Well. . .here lies my latest conjuring. It's much different than any other fic I've ever written, and is definitely VERY AU. This is a crossover story between Grey's Anatomy and Once Upon A Time, but will mostly focus on Calzona. A special thanks to SGCalzonafan for the little nugget of an idea which was this inspiration for this story and also to SGCalzonafan and Shoehore for allowing me to bounce ideas off their amazing minds. I really hope you enjoy this fic, and I definitely look forward to hearing what you all think!

Prologue

It's hard to imagine a childhood without fairy tales, without the knowledge and idea of wicked stepmothers and beautiful princesses with skin as white as snow, evil queens and true love's kiss.

Seriously, where would any of us be without the memory of all those enchanting things like curses and spells that came in the form of devastatingly handsome princes, poison apples, and straw spun into gold or every other spellbinding thing we once found in the world of fairy tales and make believe?

As children, we hung on to those ideas; we dreamed of them and some of us even dressed in costumes commemorating and immortalizing our favorite heroes and heroines, villains and fairies, year after year at Halloween. We thrived on the ideas and teachings of these tales, memorizing word for word the soundtracks to movies that breathed life into the characters and stories by lifting them from the written page to vividly transport them onto our television screens.

But unfortunately, eventually, we all began to grow up. We began to focus on facts and details more than ideas and concepts. We decided to rely more on our experience and instruction rather than intuition and instinct, and most of us became more realistic than innovative, making decisions rationally instead of impulsively.

In short, as time passed us by, as we grew older, reality started to weigh us down. All things mystical were replaced by palpable data and concrete facts, and we began to realize and acknowledge that the real world is a place so vastly different from the necromantic stories we anxiously begged for during bedtime when we were four years old.

But why? Why did that happen?

Is there some greater power in charge of such a profound metamorphosis?

Is there one specific person or entity who tells us at the age of ten that fairy tales and magic aren't real? That we shouldn't believe?

If so, who are these people? Because, maybe they need a lesson. Maybe they need to be reminded that there are so many instances in the real world that rank right up there with a genie granting wishes to the person who freed him from the imprisonment of his lamp or the momentous occasion of a sleeping spell being overpowered by the power of true love's kiss.

For, is it not a miraculous occasion when a baby is born or a wondrous event when a life is saved by the cunning of a surgeon's hand? Have some of us not actually experienced the magic of true love's kiss?

Of course we have. And that's because, deep inside, we all continue to believe and hold onto the hope that maybe fairy tales really do exist. Maybe there really is a little bit of magic left in the world.

And sometimes that thought, that tiny little glimmer of hope, is what gets us through. Because, on our most stressful and tragic of days, we need something to believe in, and maybe our memories of fairy tale miracles and fantastical events are just what we need to get us through. Maybe, just maybe, that's enough to help us carry on because, somewhere deep in our hearts, we continue to hope that everything mystifying and fanciful can absolutely happen.

As long as we believe. . .

Quickly racing through the wooded area behind the house where she and her family were being held captive in Yekaterinburg, Russia, Alexandra Romanov grasped tightly to her youngest daughter's hand, adamantly refusing to look back in the direction of where her husband and other four children were being lead to certain death by dozens of angry Bolshevik soldiers.

She couldn't do it. Her racing heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces, and because of that, she just couldn't look back to see the frightened looks on the faces of the people she loved. She had never experienced such torment in her entire life as she considered the thought of not being able to help all of her children but, as she ran, her breath labored with exertion, she now had only one goal in mind.

To save the life of her seventeen year old daughter.

"Come on, Anastasia!" Alexandra called in a hoarse whisper, her toe catching on a root, causing her to trip and tumble to the cold hard ground. Gathering herself, she groaned as she stood, her right ankle now burning with pain. "We have to make it to the train station! We have to get out of Russia!"

Ominous baritone shouts were the next thing either Romanov heard, the unmistakable sound of Bolshevik soldiers racing toward them once they had detected their escape and, with terror in her eyes, Anastasia Romanov found herself paralyzed with fear.

She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. All she could do was stare into her mother's agonized blue eyes; visions of the tortuous attack on her father, three older sisters, and younger brother filled her mind while she and her mother desperately attempted to save themselves.

Shaking herself from the harrowing scenes that played in slow motion through her head, she finally found the strength to move, her left foot moving in front of her right as she reached out to once again firmly grasp onto her mother's hand.

And together, they began to run, leaping over rocks and fallen trees until they made their way out of the forest and onto the first cobbled street they could find. With the sound of train whistles ahead of them and the continued shouts of the Bolshevik soldiers coming closer and closer at their backs, Anastasia's wide blue eyes stared helplessly at her mother, her lungs burning with overexertion as she gasped for the air their tortured run had deprived her of. "I can't breathe, mama. I'm not going to make it to the train," she choked, her left leg giving out, causing her to tumble forth onto the hard road below.

Turning around, Alexandra grasped her daughter's hand, fighting mightily to pull her back up onto her feet. "We're almost there, dochka," she encouraged, finally steadying Anastasia on her feet. "Not much further. We're almost there," she anxiously repeated.

Mustering all the courage and all the energy she possibly could, Anastasia stepped forward, her leg aching with each labored step she took. "We're going to make it," she said to herself as the sight of the train station drew closer. "We're going to make it."

Racing up the stairs to the awaiting train, Alexandra squeezed her daughter's hand more tightly within her own; they had made it this far and there was absolutely no way she was letting go of her now. "Hurry, dochka. Hurry!"

Anastasia limped forward and, with a glimmer of hope in her eyes as she watched her mother's foot firmly plant itself onto the first step leading up into the train, she felt a sudden sense of relief flood her body. She was almost there. She could do this. Just one more step, and. . .

Grasping onto the handrail of the train compartment, Anastasia pulled herself upward, but suddenly stumbled backward when two large hands brusquely tugged at the collar of her dress. With fearful blue eyes now locked with the identical ones of her mother, Anastasia opened her mouth to scream but, before she could, her beautiful cerulean eyes went wide with terror and with pain. . .

And that was the last time Alexandra Romanov ever saw her daughter, Anastasia.

"You need to do whatever you have to do! Run all the tests. Do all the procedures. Whatever you have to do. You have got to find out what's wrong with him!" Emma Swan anxiously yelled at Dr. Whale from where she stood toe-to-toe with him in the middle of the waiting room of Storybrooke General Hospital.

Dr. Whale sighed in frustration as he shook his head in defeat. "I'm sorry, Emma. I've done all I can do. I'm not sure. . ." The doctor uncertainly trailed off, at a complete loss of what else he could possibly say or do.

"You're not sure of what, Whale?" Regina Mills angrily spat at the blonde haired man at the presence of his uneasy silence, her deep brown eyes welling with tears of irritation and fear.

Dr. Whale's own eyes appeared crestfallen. "I'm sorry. I know you're frustrated. I. . ."

"Frustrated?! We are beyond frustrated!" Emma growled, blue eyes brimming with tears of their own. "You're the doctor, here. You need to do something!"

"I realize that, but I'm afraid this. . .this is beyond me. It's beyond my expertise."

Regina and Emma both appeared shocked at the doctor's honest admission; Regina's mouth fell open in nauseating outrage and dread as Emma turned on her heal to begin pacing an anxious circuit around the room.

Emma's mind was racing; her heart was breaking at the thought of potentially losing her son and, crossing back toward the other two people standing in the waiting room, her blue eyes suddenly lit with hopeful realization. "Magic. Wha-what about magic? Can't we use magic to fix this?"

Dr. Whale's face was weary and exhausted as he looked between to the extremely distraught mothers who, despite all their differences, were now solely focused on the health and well-being of their son. "I'm afraid this isn't magical," he barely spoke, suddenly breaking the two women from their intent gaze upon each other. He didn't want to continue; he didn't want to break the hope he now saw in both their eyes, but he knew he had to. As Henry's doctor, he knew he needed to be honest. "Whatever is happening with Henry is. . .medical. It's scientific."

Regina shook her head, hating the fact that Whale had just burst the tiny bubble of hope that had immediately welled in her chest at the sound of Emma's suggestion. She wanted to scream at him. Actually, she wanted to rip out his heart and squeeze it until it was nothing more than a handful of granulated dust, but deep down. . .she knew he was correct.

"It would be too risky," Regina spoke in a hoarse whisper. "Even if we could use magic, we know magic here. . .is unpredictable," she stated, a lone tear dripping down her cheek and past her full lips.

Emma's eyes were wide as she shook her head in complete disbelief and utter devastation. "But he can't. We can't let him. . ."

"Don't say it! Just don't say it!" Regina snapped at the other woman, completely unwilling to hear the end of her sentence. "Don't you even say it, Emma."

Emma's head fell forward in disappointment as she once again began to pace the room. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be losing her son. Not after she'd only known him for a few short years. That was just wrong, and she was completely unwilling to allow that to happen. She had to do something. She was the savior, for God's sake. But what good was she? What was the point of being the savior and helping everyone else if she couldn't save her own son?

She could feel the frustration and crushing letdown beginning to completely consume her but, just as she was about to dissolve into a fit of defeated tears, she paused, her thoughts going to a person she'd met so many years before. "We need help," she simply spoke, reaching an unsteady hand upward to defiantly wipe at her tear moistened face.

Recognizing a hint of determination in the other's woman's eyes, Regina stepped closer to her. "What did you have in mind?" she anxiously asked.

Emma swallowed hard, watery blue eyes meeting equally misty dark brown. "I have a friend. She's a doctor. A pediatric surgeon," she softly spoke, already reaching into the pocket of her red leather jacket to pull out her phone.

Regina wanted to agree; she wanted to do whatever she could to save Henry but, instead of giving Emma the go ahead to call her friend, she shook her head in irresolute opposition. "We can't bring a stranger to Storybrooke, Emma. What if she sees something? What if she. . ."

"Do you have a better idea?" Emma yelled, completely shocked that Regina was even remotely willing to argue this with her.

Regina appeared shocked by Emma's outburst, and she felt completely ashamed of herself for even questioning the other woman's idea. Because. . .Emma was right. She really didn't have a better idea. No one did and, honestly, she would be damned if she ever let anything happen to her son.

Noting the other woman's concession and finally a look of agreement in her eyes, Emma gave a quick, resolute nod as she held her phone against her ear. "This is what we need to do, Regina. We have to bring her here if we have any chance of saving our son."

Arizona Robbins quickly rolled on top of her lover, hungrily sucking a swollen bottom lip into her own mouth before blazing a trail down the caramel flesh of her wife's body, nipping, licking, and kissing every inch of the heated skin beneath her lips.

Looking up toward her wife from where her chin now rested against her pubic bone, Arizona tilted her head to the side, grinning mischievously as she gazed into her wife's darkening brown eyes. "Do you believe in magic, Calliope?" she teasingly husked, pausing momentarily before moving further down the other woman's body to kiss the sensitive skin at the crease between her thigh and Arizona's very most favorite part of her body.

Callie chuckled softly at her wife's teasing. "Of course I believe in magic," she breathed, her hips playfully bucking upward, urging Arizona to continue with her intoxicatingly euphoric ministrations. "With you, anything is possible. Especially when you're down there," she continued, propping herself up on her elbows to better see the beautiful blonde nestled between her thighs.

"Hmm," Arizona replied, pretending to consider Callie's logic. "You make an excellent point," she teased as she pulled her hair over one shoulder, the other hand gently moving to spread moist folds.

Breathing in the brunette's heady scent, she then swiped her tongue over her glistening slit before moving in to devour the delicious wetness between her legs. Circling her clit with the tip of her tongue, Arizona then suckled at her folds before nipping at her engorged nub, happily settling in to repeat that cycle over and over again.

"Oh God," Callie gasped as she squirmed against the bed, her hands moving from either side of her body to tangle in wavy blonde locks, her fingers curling around tresses of hair to firmly, but gently guide her wife. "More baby. I need. . ."

The sound of Arizona's cell phone ringing from somewhere near the bed caught both women's attention, though neither woman made any effort to remove themselves from their current positions in order to answer it.

"Let it ring," Callie murmured, her body arching off the bed as the back of her head dug into the pillow beneath the mass of her unruly raven hair. "They'll call back."

Knowing exactly what her wife needed, Arizona fervently sucked her needy clit into her mouth as she unceremoniously plunged two fingers deep into a moist entrance to begin thrusting wildly inside her.

"Arizona!" Callie cried, her hips bucking against her wife's face and hand at the thoroughly welcome intrusion.

The faster Arizona moved, the louder Callie's cries became, her voice rising to a near shriek of sheer ecstasy when the blonde dedicated all of her mouth's efforts to a throbbing bundle of nerves.

Callie was so close, all she needed was just a little more. . .

"You have GOT to be kidding me!" she loudly groaned in frustration when Arizona's phone once again began to ring, her hands leaving the tangle of Arizona's hair, resentful palms harshly smacking against the rumpled sheets. "Please let it ring. Please let it ring. Please let it ring," she nearly begged when she felt her wife suddenly falter in the movements of her fingers and tongue.

Callie rolled her eyes when she felt Arizona's mouth completely disengage from her aching center, though she clenched her internal muscles as a warning to her wife - if she felt her fingers even begin to pull out of her body, she was absolutely going to kill her.

"What if it's important?" Arizona asked, looking up to watch the rapid rise and fall of Callie's chest, two glorious breasts bouncing erotically with each inhalation and exhalation of air.

"They'll call back," Callie whined, her hands fisting in the sheets at her sides.

Content with that answer, Arizona smiled as the phone once again stopped ringing before diving back in to happily and certainly make her wife come at the will of her well-versed fingers and talented tongue.

"Yes, baby. Yes. So close, Ariz. . .FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Callie shouted in dissatisfaction when that offensive device once again began to blare.

Realizing this was only going to continue happening until she answered the damn call, Arizona removed her mouth and her hand from her wife's burning center, taking Callie's left leg into her hands and ducking beneath it as she leaned over the edge of the bed to find her phone. Hastily searching through the pile of impetuously discarded clothing, she finally found it in the back pocket of her jeans. Ungracefully catching herself before she tumbled head first off the bed, she then resumed her position between Callie's legs, her iPhone now held to her ear.

"He-hello," she answered, her tone hoarse and slightly breathless.

"Umm, Arizona?

"Y-yes?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to place the familiar voice.

"This is Emma. Emma Swan."

Leaning up on her elbow, Arizona's eyes lit up at the sound of the other's woman's voice, her eyes now twinkling as the darkened lusty haze they'd held only moments before quickly began to diminish. "Oh my God, Emma! How are you?" she happily asked, a large dimpled grin lighting her face.

Glancing down her body, Callie's eyes widened; she was in complete disbelief that any of this was actually happening. Her wife had literally just taken a phone call - from another woman - while in the midst of going down on her and, to top that off, she now appeared to be having a quite intense conversation with said woman while her head remained precariously buried between her legs.

"Yes, of course. Of course, I will," Arizona spoke into the phone. "I'll rearrange my schedule. I'll be on the first possible flight out."

Callie's brow furrowed as she listened to the emotion in her wife's voice, a sound so much different from the guttural moans and husky grunts against her center she'd begun to lose herself in only moments before. "What's the matter, Arizona?" she whispered, sitting straight up and swinging her leg over her wife's head.

Arizona held up her index finger to gently halt Callie's question, though she then reached out to tightly grasp at her hand.

Callie's irritation quickly morphed into concern at her wife's behavior and, as she continued to listen to her speak, she became worried at the careful tone of present in Arizona's voice.

"Okay. I'll text you with my travel arrangements," Arizona softly spoke into the phone, her fingers now errantly fiddling with the band of diamonds and gold that circled her wife's left ring finger. "Stay strong, Emma," she then added, her eyes now meeting the apprehensively confused brown ones of her wife. "Everything's going to be okay. I promise."

As Arizona drove, Callie sat in the passenger's seat, her iPad held in her hands as she once again tried to get her Maps App to find the address her wife had hastily jotted down as they stood in line at Boston Logan Airport waiting to pay for their rental car. She had been unsuccessful in finding the address by using the car's built in GPS and, with a sigh of frustration, she dropped the iPad into her lap.

"I'm telling you, Arizona. The place doesn't exist," Callie grumbled as she dug through the oversized purse at her feet in search of the map she'd nabbed from the Enterprise kiosk. "It's not on the GPS, not on any navigation app. There's no location for it on Facebook, and the only thing that comes up when you Google it is a link telling me it's showing the results for the word storybook," she continued to ramble as she found herself tangled in the oversized map she now held in her hands. "How long did you say it's been since you last saw this woman?" she asked, her head snapping to the side to view Arizona's profile as she drove.

Arizona sighed, her thumbs impatiently drumming against the steering wheel. "Can you please stop calling her this woman or that woman?" she irritably asked, her tone more tense than she had intended. "She has a name, Calliope. It's Emma. And she was my very best friend growing up."

Callie sighed as she continued to watch her wife. She couldn't see Arizona's crystal clear blue eyes behind the aviator sunglasses the other woman wore but, deep down, she knew if she could, she would see the pleading in them to just please play nice and let it go. She didn't exactly know why she was feeling so skeptical about this entire situation, but what she did know was that she wholeheartedly trusted her wife's intuition and, if Arizona thought this Emma woman was apropos, then that was really all she needed. That did not mean, however, that she didn't have the right to feel at least a little bit suspect about this town called Storybrooke.

Attempting to refold the map, Callie once again sighed and, ultimately giving up for now, she haphazardly stuffed the now crumpled atlas into the bag at her feet. "Fine. Fine," she sighed, leaning forward to also pit away her iPad. "I'm sorry," she finally conceded once she had straightened back up in her seat.

Taking her eyes off the two lane road surrounded by lush vegetation, Arizona turned her head to regard her wife and, reaching out with her right hand, she grasped Callie's left, pulling it toward her mouth to place a gentle kiss against tanned knuckles. "Thank you, Calliope," she softly stated before turning her attention back toward the road.

Smiling when Arizona continued to hold her hand, Callie allowed herself to half-heartedly relax for the first time since the ill-timed phone call her wife had received just two days before and, attempting to get more comfortable in her seat, she squeezed the smaller hand within her own as a large wooden sign along the right side of the road suddenly came into view.

Welcome to Storybrooke.

Both women looked toward the other at the presence of the sign, Arizona's lips curling into a smug grin as Callie silently shrugged in humble defeat.

So, maybe this place called Storybrooke, Maine really did exist. But, as they continued to drive, the overwhelming feeling in Callie's gut persevered, and she found herself completely unable to assuage the deeply seated sense of apprehension and trepidation she felt with each forward rotation of the tires of their rented SUV.

There was just something about this Emma woman and this town of Storybrooke that she simply didn't trust.

If only she could figure out why. . .

AN2: So, what do you think? Worth continuing to find out what happens next? Let me know what you think!