Leave The Light On, a grey's anatomy fanfic

Hey dudes... or dudettes... whatever. So this is a decidedly less perky story than your used to from me. Which is cool, because we all gotta shake it up from time to time. Would it be wrong of me to quote James Bond here... "Shaken... not stirred." No, it better not be, because I kind of just did it.

Anyways... so this story, less perky, is kind of an introspective look from Callie's POV set to the song Leave the Light On. Various people sing this song, but the version you should go look up on the youTUBE is Sara Ramirez version. Go ahead... I'll wait.

*waiting*

You're back. Good. So the reason I said hers, and please don't judge because I know you're all thinking it, Sara Ramirez is hot. Like, really hot. "Thank you." Also because it's hers that inspired this little fic. Not me, no, this idea, and the awesomeness that it is, belongs to GreysAddictJ... totally not even sure if there's capitals in her name, but whatever. She introduced me to the song, and the story idea, and I rolled with it. So this is kind of a co-op, kind of thing... dealy... whatever. But two people can't get upload credit, so here I am... talking for both of us.

But that's where that ends. Because while she asked me not to do this, and I kind of respect her wishes, I'm dedicating this story in all it's angsty glory, to Malzona. (A. Windsor, if you're reading this, tell me if your mind went to some crazy awesome Firefly/Grey's Anatomy crossover. Because mine totally did.) Mark, Callie, Arizona. We have no right to be mad about this baby. It's a miracle, as far as sucky miracles go, and we need to be happy for them. Well technically we only need to be happy for Callie, and extension Arizona, but Mark's in there, Don't Leave Me (Please Don't Go) promo anyone? So it's to that baby, who's fate is of as yet undertermined, that this is dedicated. Love me, hate me, whatever, I just want some CalZona loving. Is that too much to ask?

I'm just gonna assume you said no. Again.

So, GreysAddictJ, I thank you, and that is my rant for the day. Or at least the time being. Happy hunting ~ rawpotato.

Days seemed to drag on in the annoying way that they do when one seems to be heartbroken. Hours slip by one another like strangers on a train, minutes never seem to have the time to stop, and every second feels as if it's fighting its passing. And still, the passage of time almost goes unnoticed. One minute you're rocking a kickass surgery, the next its three days later and you're alone in an on-call room, wondering what the hell just happened.

Arizona leaving.

That's what happened. Callie Torres knew that her world had stopped that day. The crowded airport adamantly refusing to believe that the world, that her world, had just come crashing down. People walked around her as if they couldn't see her, and that's exactly how she'd felt as she watched the plane take off, flying away without a backward glance, invisible. She couldn't tell you how long she stood rooted to the spot just outside the gate, how she got to the hotel, or exactly when she ran out of tears, but kept on crying anyway.

Who was I before I met you
before I had you in my heart
where was I when you aren't by my side
lonely and lost in the dark
Now it's the hardest thing I'll ever know
learning to let you go

It was worse being back in the hospital. Everywhere she went there was a memory, some little reminder of Arizona. A picture that they had looked at together, a patients drawing plastered on the walls. A corner where they had stolen a kiss, even just a quick hand squeeze. The stairwell where they often met, an on-call room, a gallery, the cafeteria, the cat walk, the pit, the OR... the list could go on and on, and yet Callie found that she didn't want to lose the memories.

She hated Arizona Robbins. Hated her with every fibre of her being. From the depths of her despair to the heights of her Orthopaedic Surgeon Goddessness, everything that she was, hated her. Callie knew that it was childish and immature, but she couldn't change the way she felt.

Didn't want to. Because though everything reminded her of Arizona, and the hatred she was feeling, she couldn't help but remember what Arizona had given her.

Before Arizona there were others that had hurt her. Others before Arizona who had come and gone, leaving their marks on Callie, just as deep, and just as vibrant. Yet it had been Arizona's perpetual perkiness, her incessant need to fill every moment with happiness and awesome, her unwavering faith in the goodness of people, and the child like dreams and naivety that was infectious, that had allowed her, Callie, to get passed the ugly memories and focus on the good.

Despite the hate that she was feeling, she still loved the blond whirling dervish, which she suspected was part of her problem. Or all of her problem. She couldn't be quite sure. But the hate, she knew it wasn't real. It wasn't real because a person so infused with the love she felt for Arizona, couldn't ever hate the same object.

And I thank you every day
for all you gave to me
for saving me, for the strength to carry on
when I close my eyes
I feel you close to me, still holding me
even though you're gone
and every night I leave the light on

Sighing, Callie rolled over on the smallest couch in the world, and blindly reached for Arizona. It was nights like these were she really hated Arizona. Hate being a loose term. Sighing once more, she wrapped her arms around herself, tucked her cold feet deeper into her blanket and closed her eyes, wishing for something that was too far away to be of comfort. 9739 miles to be exact. She'd looked it up. Not before she left, shockingly, but after she'd let Cristina cut her hair. Because it was the first time that she realized that she needed Arizona in her life, since she had been gone.

She'd thought it after Gary Clark, had an inkling during their pseudo fight and actual break-up. But it wasn't until she was staring at herself in the mirror, no hair, no self esteem, not at all feeling the way that she normally felt that she knew, beyond all shadow and of any form of doubt, that she needed Arizona.

But 9739 miles was a lot of distance when you were lying alone in a cold bed, missing, hating and wishing for something that was beyond your reach. She was alone, 2000 leagues under the sea, being crushed by the pressure, and Captain Nemo was nowhere to be found.

Days go by, I'm here without you
I'm missing all the things we shared
but I won't cry
I will not worry about you
in my heart you'll always be there
can you hear the simple words I say
a million miles away

Drinks with the group was not something that she wanted to do. But she was moving on. She was over Arizona, as much as she could be, and she would go out. Because she was hot, and single, and almost... in a very small way, hating, and over, Arizona Robbins. So she'd agree to go out.

Sure it was under the pretence of celebrating for Derek, but Mark had said he was buying, and she couldn't say no to a free drink.

Then Christina was there with her bartending, her strongest drink in the world, and her supposed happiness and freedom, and they were drinking and all she could think about was how it was less than thirty steps to the bathroom that had landed her in this position, alone and drinking on Mark's dime. Every so often her eyes drifted back to the door of the bathroom, the ghost of that unexpected first kiss drifting across her lips, and downing another shot of... something.

It was only after the red head, the sixth, or was it the seventh, drink and a rousing, albeit drunken conversation about sexual sorbet and Teddy's explanation that she was an idiot, no real argument there, that she got up the courage to ask about Arizona. It had been thirty three days of wondering about the blond, of not knowing anything, of keeping up that strong, rock star facade, but she couldn't resist asking. Perhaps it was the alcohol that seemed to flow rather freely, the lack of stimulating conversation or the millionth glance at the bathroom door, but she couldn't not ask.

And the lack of answer was all the answer she really needed.

It was after the sexual sorbet, more of a mistake than sorbet ever would be, that she would admit to missing Arizona. Where Mark was rough, and hard, Arizona was soft and gentle. Where his beard scratched her, she longed for the smoothness of Arizona. Where sex with Mark was physical, chemical, visceral, sex with Arizona was making love. Sure she and Arizona had just had sex, the wild, passionate fucking of two people, and thinking of those moments lead to some desire inducing leg crossing, it wasn't the forefront of Callie's mind.

It was the making love that she remembered most. The way that making love to Arizona always left her breathless, sated, loved. The way that it was more an act of emotional attraction and need than a physical act. Not that the two were mutually exclusive, they were inextricably linked, but making love was what she missed the most.

And it was the sex with Mark that led her to that discovery about herself. She missed Arizona.

Missed her with every depth of her being. Because Mark was not Arizona, he'd never been, and in opposition to the blonds fear to the contrary, he never would be. It had nothing to do with their base difference being a man and a woman, Arizona was it for her, not Mark. And it came at the cost of confirming the worst fears of the person that she realized was her future.

just to remind me (I leave the light on)
I dream you find me once again (I leave the light on)
to lead you home where I am waiting (where I am waiting)

Callie would not think about George anymore. George, while probably being the biggest mistake of her life, will always be her husband. And not in the way that his mother thinks, but in the way that she's always going to love and respect him. George, of all people is worthy of that, because he is George. She would not think about Erica anymore. Erica was the woman that opened her eyes to who and what she really was. While she wasn't prepared to be completely gay, Erica had offered her the opportunity to see what it might be like, eventually leading her to Arizona.

Arizona. She'd try not to think about Arizona, knowing that it was a fruitless endeavour, but one she would try. She would not have sex with Mark again, that was somewhere she didn't want to go again, she would try and move on, taking the best of what Arizona had given her and eventually she knew that she would be able to forget about her, at least for a little while. Because while she knew that there was no getting over Arizona Robbins, she had to. Arizona was gone, and though it was only for three years, it might as well be eternity, the echoes of her words ringing through her ears, "... we're already over."

and I thank you ever day
for all you gave to me
for saving me, for the strength to carry on
(for the strength to carry on)
when I close my eyes
I feel you close to me, still holding me
even though you're gone

The knock at the door, as she cooked dinner for herself, brought her out of her revere, she laughed, calling for Mark, wondering where he was. Throwing the door open, her breath catching in her chest, throat tightening, seeing what she was sure she'd never set eyes on again.
Arizona Robbins. She didn't know what to do. She'd just decided to let her go, to try and move on, to push all thoughts of the blond, her endless blue eyes, the softness of her skin, the perfect architecture of her body... and here she was, back, like an homage to the past, throwing a wrench into the forget Arizona plan.

It was then, in a ridiculously raspy voice that Callie couldn't help but love, and so much emotion that she was sure would burst both of them...

and every night I leave the light on
and every night I leave the light on

"Okay, so picture this..."