AN: Just a short, one-shot, missing scene from 8x11 between Teddy and Arizona.
Standing unmoving outside of the operating room, Teddy had one hand wrapped tightly around the edge of the tub where she should have been scrubbing out. Her other hand was pressed to her face, thumb against her temple and fingers shadowing her eyes.
Her scrub hat had been discarded to the floor.
Cristina had left. And she was fighting desperately against the sobs that kept escaping her lungs, exposing a tortured cry through her constricted throat.
She could have heard the footsteps outside and the urgent, hushed communication. But she didn't; too busy keeping her body upright when all she wanted to do was fall to the floor.
The door swung open; the metal hinges squealing with the effort. They mended bodies but the doors couldn't be oiled.
"Teddy."
She jerked at the sound of her own name and spun around, backing herself against the pristine metal basins, both hands now gripping either side of where she leant, half sitting on the lip.
Arizona stared at her carefully, hesitating just inside the door. She reached up to tie her messy blonde curls into a ponytail, moving the elastic from her wrist to loop three times around her hair. Her own skin looked pale and her eyes sunken, a marathon number of hours in surgery will have that effect. It was nothing compared to the trembling sight in front of her.
"Teddy," she stated again, taking two steps forward. She ceased suddenly when Teddy held an open palm out in front of her.
"Don't," Teddy murmured, voice shaking in unison with her fingers. "Please."
Arizona fumbled with her scrubs, the top loose over her pants and the drawstring hanging untied. "What can I do?" she asked desperately. Helplessly.
"It's just," Gasping for words and air, Teddy shook her head, eyes squeezed shut. "Cristina did everything she could. Everything I could have done. There has to be something else." Each word was scratched and her tempo uneven.
"What do you need?" Arizona asked again, rephrasing. She held a hand to her mouth, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Watching her friend fall apart; grieve. Waiting for the catharsis.
"I don't know." The words were pleaded, cried out as Teddy bent at the waist. She hung her head, shaking it from side to side. Arizona again moved forward, another step. "No."
Arizona shifted her gaze around the room, glancing through each of the windows. There was no one. "I'm not going to tell you, that everything's okay."
Teddy raised her face, still hunched forward. Her cheeks were tear stained, salt tracks carving sorrow into her skin. "Did you save those conjoined twins?" Her voice was higher pitched than usual and her shoulders were shaking with contained emotion.
Sighing and creasing her forehead, Arizona shook her head slightly, as if trying to portray that it didn't matter right then. It wasn't important. "We did," she said.
"That's good." With a hand back over her mouth, Teddy squeezed at her nose, eyes still locked on Arizona's. If she could predict her next move, she might stay standing; stay strong.
"They were patients," Arizona responded, brushing it away. "Things aren't always good. Things are not good, for you."
Another sob; an involuntary release of emotion. "Please, just go."
"I won't."
Teddy slid slowly to the floor, controlled until she could slump against the metal. She moved both hands to cover her face. "Then help," she pleaded, her voice muffled. Arizona stepped forward and knelt, crawling until she could reach to wrap her hands around Teddy's forearms.
"Teddy," Arizona whispered again, tugging against the resistance that Teddy gave. She tensed her body and held back from Arizona's efforts, hands secured to her face and spine pressed firmly back. Arizona leant forward, pressing her body into Teddy's side. She felt undeniable shuddering under her and releasing one of Teddy's forearms she brought her palm to rest over Teddy's ear and fingers against her hair.
Suddenly lowering her hands, Teddy gripped at the arm of Arizona's scrubs. Dropping her face, she pressed into the curve of Arizona's shoulder, material twisting through her fingers. "I can't go home; he's not there. I hate it here; I hate it here where he died." Arizona nodded but remained silent. She leant back on her legs, this time drawing Teddy with her. She held her quietly, absorbing the tears; the sobs.
Maybe that would help, to withstand her pain.
Even, if only a little.
Fin.