That's right. I'm still alive. I'm older, wiser and a much better writer. Let the games begin again.
I don't know what this one is. If it's well-received, I'd be happy to continue it. If not, let's just say I'm rusty and call it day. Either way, I think this pairing is different and therefore very interesting. Be brutally honest if you decide to review and tell me what I'm doing wrong.
Enjoy.
One of the few Seattle nights that wasn't grey and murky as supposed to be a good one. But it's never a good night when you lose three kids. What's worse than losing three kids? Well, losing four kids but Arizona Robbins did not go up on the roof to count dead kids. She went up to count stars. The city lights below and surrounding Seattle Grace Hospital seemed to be brighter than usual and the stars were therefore invisible to Arizona's blue eyes. She was sure she'd seen one foreign sun but it turned out to be a plane and that familiar feeling of false assumption was just so consistent with the night she'd had.
Downstairs, wandering the halls of the very same misery-filled cesspool, Derek Shepherd tried to clear his head. Sometimes he thought the luscious hair that sat atop his pretty little head only aided in driving him crazy. Perhaps if he was bald, his dark thoughts could slip away a little easier. More than once he'd considered shaving his head like he did for patients in need of invasive brain surgery. The only downside to that somewhat irrational course of action was the immediate plummet in female attraction he would inevitably suffer. One of the reasons he was so popular with the ladies was the hair. He knew that. It didn't really matter much. His heart remained with one beautiful, twisted, possibly insane intern known as Dr. Meredith Grey.
He knew that she'd never feel the same way. That much was clear when his crush hopped into bed with his now ex-best friend Mark Sloan. And Derek felt really damn childish for having a crush, let alone an ex-best friend, but the heart wants what the heart wants and the juvenile brain hates who the juvenile brain hates.
On that uncharacteristically clear Seattle evening, Dr. Shepherd was in desperate need of a break. Medically and professionally speaking, it had been a rough night. The Chief had observed one of his surgeries which for whatever reason caused Derek to second-guess a gut feeling and consequently screw up something otherwise routine. Another patient, a young guy, ruptured on the table and bled out within seconds. And, on a less professional note, he had entered the elevator to find Ms. Grey and Mr. Sloan in a rather passionate embrace that made Derek contemplate sticking his neck between the closing doors and pray for the end.
He needed some sort of bailout. After a night like that, Derek needed some time to himself. When his break arrived, he considered getting something to eat or maybe even catching some sleep. His appetite had died with that thirty-year-old patient and with the way his luck was going, he'd walk into an on-call room for a nap and find Meredith and Mark blowing off steam in their own way. No, neither of those options seemed appealing to him. He needed fresh air. The main entrance to the hospital was often flooded with broken bodies or recognizable doctors trying to flee. He needed fresh air and solitude. There was only one place where Derek could find both things he so desperately needed and that was up on the roof.
When Arizona heard the door behind her swing open, she cursed whoever dared interrupt her moment of free self-pity. Her hands gripped the railing in aggravation as she looked over her shoulder to view the guilty party. A tired-looking Derek Shepherd pulled himself onto the dimly-lit rooftop, shutting the door behind him and stopping where he stood. He didn't look any more pleased to see her as she was to see him.
"Dr. Robbins," he said cautiously, trying to search the banks of his memory and make sure that was, in fact, the blonde surgeon's name. He didn't know her very well, after all.
"Dr. Shepherd," Arizona responded with a half-hearted nod of acknowledgement.
"I didn't know anyone was up here," the neurosurgeon responded.
"Yeah, well, it's a pretty good hiding spot," she admitted, returning her arms to the surface of the balcony and leaning forward. She stared at the bustling city just in the distance and momentarily wished she could trade places with a less stressed citizen.
"Rough day?" Derek answered, walking towards the railing and emulating Arizona's positioning.
"That doesn't even cover it," she scoffed, shaking her head. After a moment, she looked to him, not moving her body which would need much more than idle chitchat with an alien colleague to stir it. "What about you?"
"As far as sucking goes," he began coyly, exhaling as he did so, "this was one for the record books."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she commented, blowing a lock of hair from in front of her face. The wind picked up a bit, chilling the two unhappy doctors.
"How often do you hide up here, Robbins?"
"Only on the really bad days," she told him. Derek let out another sigh, a puff of pent up, bothered air that was now free to infect the dark, crisp air around them.
"How many did you lose?" he asked quietly, understanding that a doctor's 'really bad day' almost always involved death.
"Three," she stated. "You?"
"Just one," he breathed. He turned back to the darkness and looked at the buildings that seemed so far away. "Just one." Arizona nodded and followed suit, eyes on the busy metropolitan before them.
"Just one," Arizona repeated.
A long while passed where neither said a word. They were both too deep in thought and too busy wallowing in doctoral self-loathing to even notice each other's company. The only thing that broke through their internal walls of regret and wretchedness was the sound of helicopter blades chopping through the otherwise silent air. Both turned simultaneously, using their hands to shade their eyes from the displaced wind that was threatening to knock them over. Seconds later, the door to the roof burst open again. In rushed various doctors and a gurney, all shouting something unintelligible but frantic. Derek stepped forward.
"What do we got?"
"Twenty-year-old male with multiple stab wounds," Miranda Bailey answered. "No head trauma to our knowledge but we'll page you if we need you." Derek nodded and stepped aside along with Arizona who had stopped listening after 'twenty-year-old'.
"I guess our break's over," Arizona remarked as her coworkers unloaded a bloody body onto the stretcher.
"I guess you're right." Derek tucked his hands into his white coat, unsure of what else to say to his new acquaintance. "I almost don't want to say I hope to see you again up here."
"Why's that?"
"Because that would mean that more kids died." Arizona nodded understandingly and watched as the speedy doctors transported the patient into the medical sanctuary.
"Well," she began, starting off for the door, "I at least hope our bad days match up again next time." As soon as the words left her lips, the compassionate cutter was gone, leaving a confused yet oddly intrigued Derek Shepherd alone to watch the helicopter disappear into the night sky.