'I'm sorry?'
No one heard, they never do. There's a pause, a intake of breath on her behalf. She sinks back into her chair, glancing along the row of people sitting beside her. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything? Stayed silent, the way she almost always does when the subject comes up.
It's Amelia, on the end of the row, who takes her attention. The others haven't realised. But she has, most certainly. It's the eyes wide, the look of youth caught still in the lines around the mouth. Arizona looks away after a moment because she can't take it anymore.
'Say that again?' someone says, suddenly understanding. She doesn't know who it is, but she's past the point of caring. She should've shut up, forgotten, drawn it to the back of her mind again. Megan Hunt is on the table, far below them. It reminded her, that's all, something Owen said, earlier, and for a fraction of a second, a memory thrown away came back.
They think they heard wrong, everyone else sitting in the OR gallery. Arizona couldn't have said that, could she? No, nope. Not her, who hides the cracks with laughter and jokes and a smile. So they ignore it, reason it down to something else. She goes back to being who she was three minutes ago, undefined, unplaced, unpitied.
Later, once the surgery is over, Arizona finds herself in a room, staring blankly at the wall. A medical journey lies abandoned on the table, a tale for another time. The knock sounds at the door and even before it opens, Arizona knows who it is.
Amelia, come to seek her out. To know if what was said is true, or if the OR is just filled with ghosts and echoes.
'What you said earlier?' she starts, her voice stuttering, unsure.
'Oh,' she laughs. Arizona's good at that. It's what they all expect. 'It was nothing.'
Amelia hangs by the door, a distance away. They're not close, not strangers either but still. There's a connection now, that wasn't there yesterday, or the day before. A red thread that dances between, pulling at their heartstrings, dangling, unspoken.
'It's true then,' she says, swinging on the door handle, eyes cast down. 'What you said.'
There's a pause and Arizona realises that she hasn't talked about it in a long time; in a life time, not since Callie was here and that was years ago. 'Yes,' she breaths. It feels odd, after all these years, after losing what she has lost -a leg, Callie, Sophia for the briefest of heartbeats - to remember that initial pain, to recall the first instance she felt such heartache.
'I didn't know,' Amelia says, voice leaden with things unsaid. They are kin now, sharing only the harshest of bonds. Maybe Meredith should be here? She too is part of this unrivalled club, this existence no one ever wants to be a part of.
'When?' Amelia asks, not probing too deep. A distance kept, for both their sakes. For that Arizona is grateful.
'Too long ago.'
It wasn't recent, not like Amelia; the pain is not the sting, the cut, it once was. It has been sutured with clumsy hands; with fingers not yet ready for the task ahead.
'Ok.'
And for a moment, Arizona thinks the other woman has gone, left and fluttered away like the butterflies they all are underneath. But Amelia remains, a silent presence, unearthly almost.
They share in one of life's greatest tragedies. There isn't a word to describe it, no dictionary has every tried to explain for it is in describable. She is a sister, who has lost a brother. Just like Amelia, decades later, such an unnatural arrangement of things.
It was something Owen said, that morning. He hadn't realised. She doesn't blame him. No one here knows. Callie did once, but even she's gone now. The OR gallery had almost been full, most wouldn't have even heard him. It was about Megan, about loss, but the wording is forgotten now. All that mattered was that it made her think about her brother, and nothing had done that for a long time.
She'd whispered, slowly, and hadn't expected anyone to hear. Amelia had, maybe she was sensitive to such words, to the phrases that rock the very core of her being. The way that the word widow would cause Meredith, or Teddy for example, to stare at their speaker, to realise that in the face looking back they had found a fellow sufferer.
'I wish my brother could do what Megan did.'
What Megan did, yes. That thing that everyone wishes for their loved one. Megan, resurrected, brought back from the dead. But not Tim, not Derek. They remained, who they were, their fates sealed in six feet of dirt and earth.
Megan never had a funeral, there had always been a chance. It is a miracle, but not the way some chalked it up. She had always been missing presumed. Given up on. Tim came back in a box, the same with Derek. There was no such word as presumed used for them.
'What was his name?' Amelia asks, coming further into the room. She still stands, an awkward figure. Unmasked, now, stripped back to the parts no one usually gets to see.
Arizona moves from her seat, takes a step toward the younger woman.
'It was Tim.'
Then they find themselves in an embrace, a hug. Kindred spirits.
'It doesn't get better, does it?' Amelia asks into her shoulder, as their arms wrap around each other. They are friends in this instant, but in five minutes, in a an hour - they will go back to what they were before, friends almost, but not quiet. The red thread will remain, as it always does, linking them.
'You'll go numb to it, eventually,' Arizona says. They can't see each other's faces, but it's more by design than anything else. Amelia, she thinks, would not have been able to ask if she'd been able to see.
They break apart. A throat cleared, a moment over. Amelia heads for the door. They are back to who they were before. The door falls open but as the other brotherless woman heads for the corridor, she turns and asks one more thing.
'Being numb, does it help?'
A second, Arizona takes a step back. She's never really thought about it before. Maybe she should've? But the answer comes to her in a fraction of a heartbeat, because it's the truth. It's always been the truth.
'Not at all.'
A pause, eyes meeting, a nod.
'Thank you.'
And with that Amelia is gone.
Arizona collapses back down, closes her eyes. That was enough, she thinks. Far and away enough sadness for one day. She smiles, because Owen has got his sister back and how wonderful must that be. She stands, pulls the door open and walks into the hall.
There's always someone else to save, isn't there?