A/N: I'm working on this fanfiction not alone, but together with Lola.
So all the credit, critics etc. go to both of us.
We hope you'll enjoy our story – comments will be very appreciated.
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction. We don't own anything, just borrowing the characters for a little.
Grey's Anatomy and all its characters belong to creator Shonda Rhimes & ABC.
Running scared
-Chapter 1
by Raven & Lola
Callie Torres was sitting at the table, trying to come up with a proper tattoo draft for her next client, but her creativity was lacking badly.
Once again.
She grabbed the tequila bottle that was standing right next to her and took a big gulp, hoping that it would take the pressure from her, but she already realized that it wouldn't help at all while she swallowed the brown liquid.
She was drinking too much lately and Callie knew it, but the latina didn't know how to deal with her and Erica's break up.
Since the day her ex-girlfriend had walked out of her door, Callie's life, her whole world had gone to hell.
It was almost a year now and yet Callie felt as miserable as she had been back then when Erica had left town.
Maybe she was even worse now 'cause of all the drinking, but she wasn't able to stop.
Callie had no ideas anymore, she had barked away almost all her clients and she would be broke soon.
She wasn't even sure if she would be able to pay the rent for the shop and her small apartment next month.
Callie took a look at her watch just to realize that it was way past midnight and so she dropped the pencil, sighed heavily and went to bed. Clothes on and all. She simply was too tired to take them off.
And although Callie knew that she needed the money, the latina had decided to cancel the appointment for the next day anyway.
She might have been one of the best tattoo artists in town once, but that was long ago.
Now she was just some drunken nobody, who wasn't even able to draw anymore.
And nobody would like to get inked by such a loser – that was totally clear to her.
She would call that woman in the morning and she would tell her that she was sick.
She'd call that woman with the mysterious name Arizona.
Arizona Robbins.
For one short moment, Arizona Robbins wasn't quite sure anymore if getting a tattoo was the right way of starting her new life in a new city with new people and a lot of new possibilities.
On the one hand it might give her the look of a cool gangster girl, which could turn out to be difficult with her being a pediatric surgeon, but on the other hand it was a chance to get over the past.
A symbol for a new beginning…besides it was just a name and not a skull or something she wanted to have.
But Arizona actually didn't know where to put it. She starred at herself in the mirror to examine every inch of her body, but she simply couldn't decide.
Maybe this tattoo artist could help her, at least it was her job.
So, after figuring out that this was the conclusion of the day, she jumped into the shower and ended up in bed, starring at the ceiling.
'Cause although she really wanted all of this, she was more than nervous about her new job, the colleagues , simply everything.
Anyway, it had been the only right decision – it was her one and only chance to move on.
The next day Arizona decided not to think about her appointment later that day, so she went to the Seattle Grace hospital, just to know what it looks like from the outside.
She'd start to work there in three days and she didn't want to rush things – so she didn't walk inside that day.
Maybe tomorrow.
Just to take a quick look of course.
After walking around for quite some time and drinking a coffee at a bar named Joe's, right across the street from the hospital, she finally arrived at the tattoo studio.
Right in time.
Her head was killing her when Callie woke up and she wasn't even able to open her eyes to the full.
Yeah, she was hung over.
Definitely.
Feeling dizzy she crawled out of bed, stumbled into the bathroom to get a quick shower and she tried to remember her schedule for the day.
Callie knew she had wanted to do something, but she simply couldn't remember what it was.
Maybe she should try it with a little less tequila tonight…
When Callie finally was dressed for the day she took a look at the clock in her kitchen and froze.
2.17 pm.
And then it hit her – the tattoo appointment she had wanted to cancel.
The appointment with this Arizona Robbins.
"Damn it!" she yelled, clutching her hand against her forehead, just to jump 'cause of her now even more hurting head, which led to Callie bumping into the doorframe.
What a great start for a new day!
Coffee had to wait.
Grabbing her jacket quickly the latina stormed out of her apartment and while she ran down the stairs to open her shop she prayed that this Arizona had forgotten about her appointment.
But of course she hadn't.
Callie, completely out of breath, unlocked the door to the tattoo shop, just to look right into the bright blue eyes of a blonde woman, who flashed her dimples at her.
Well, helloooooooo…
For a second Callie didn't know what to say, but then she finally got a grip and led her client inside, aware that she didn't even have a draft.
Not to mention that she was far from being anywhere near of being sober.
First she wanted to clutch her hand against her forehead again, but she stopped herself right in time before her hand would have hit her skin.
Callie was headachy enough.
Taking a deep breath the latina decided to do the tattoo for that smiley, perky blonde woman, who seemed to be a little nervous, anyway.
She would do it free – hand, which always had gotten out the best of her.
She was Callie Torres, one of the best tattooists in Seattle, for Heaven's sake.
She was totally badass.
And she would get this tattoo done or hell should freeze…