No Matter of Chance
By AmboDriver
Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own anything. I'm just playing around with these characters that I adore.
A/N: Yes, I should be writing "Thin Line", but school is crazy and those chapters take time because of their size/emotions. This story's chapters will be much shorter (2 scenes, 1 from each point of view) so I can get it in between all the studying while still working on the longer stuff.
I'm a little late to the post-"If/Then" game. But I'm a bit of a fanatic for first time stories, and I also prefer to write within canon, so that's a bit tough with Calzona until this alternate storyline. So now I get to write a first time story and keep it kind of canon. Not to mention I get to play with slightly different and pretty flawed versions of Arizona and Callie. As Arizona would say, "Yay!"
I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think (I can even take some constructive criticism). Even with shorter chapters, school will keep me busy so don't expect more than a chapter a week at MOST.
Ratings and Content Warnings: This story will be violent in at least one part, so if you have triggers, beware. There may very well be some explicit moments later on (hence the M rating). And I'm sure there will be bad words. I'm a big fan of hot women with dirty mouths!
"Destiny is no matter of chance; it is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." –William Jennings Bryant
Chapter 1
She'd been having the best dream. Or at least she had the impression she had been having a wonderful dream by the warm feeling suffusing her body. But she couldn't quite remember what it was about. Instead, she was now awake, at 3:17am, and the other side of the bed was empty. Like most nights, Callie assumed the motion of Owen rising and the soft snick of the door as it closed had woken her.
It was far earlier than Owen normally got up, his sleep so often disturbed by nightmares and his brain obviously going too fast to settle back down once awake. For the first few months, Callie would wake when the bed shifted as he rose to go to the basement and workout or Skype with his friends who were still in Iraq. She'd stay up, sometimes going to sit in one of the kids' rooms, sometimes just lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. But she always worried about what her husband was going through down in his basement refuge. She was damned if she knew, because he refused to talk with her about it or about most anything for that matter. Instead, he ran from the demons on the treadmill or beat them into submission with the punching bag. But never did he share them with his wife, the same wife he swore just five years earlier to go through life with, through sickness and health and in good times and in bad. No, he was silent, and soon Callie learned to be silent, too.
But really she was good at silence. She'd been raised on it, taught to embrace silence and put up good appearances early on in life. So it felt familiar, even comfortable in some ways, to let it go on. And it hadn't taken long for her to easily roll over and fall back asleep whenever she felt the bed shift as Owen awoke in the middle of the night. Staying up was acknowledging the problem, allowing it to breathe in her life. But going back to sleep was her way of playing along. After all, people in perfect marriages slept soundly at night.
She had learned at the feet of masters. Her parents had made it look so easy when she was a child. Live the lie long enough and you might even forget it was a lie. The way her father looked at her sister sometimes, Callie could swear he'd forgotten. Only she and her parents knew the truth, after all, and if you were going to hide a lie that big, you had to be convincing. Too bad Owen wasn't quite as good an actor.
His lie about how he'd damaged his hand, when half the hospital knew about the smashed window, just proved he was no good at the game she had perfected as a child. But she played along and chose not to confront him. If there was one thing Callie was no good at, it was confrontation, at least outside the OR. That's why she chose the silence and veil of keeping up appearances. It was less painful and far safer. It also meant not having to face the truth of her life. From the outside, she looked like she had everything—the perfect marriage, beautiful kids, successful career. But as she rolled over and closed her eyes, determined to let it all go and ignore another night of Owen's pain, she knew the real truth. Besides her children, she had settled. She had let others make choices for her and now she felt like she had no choice but to continue on.
Sleep came too easily. Not that she minded. Maybe she'd find that illusive dream again. And maybe, just maybe, it would allow her to forget the lies for a short time, until she awoke and had to put on the mask and play the part again.
Arizona pushed the cereal around in her bowl, her eyes continuing to flicker up toward her bedroom door. She had heard the shower turn off a few minutes previously but still the door was closed. She sighed heavily and shoveled the soggy cereal into her mouth. I've got to stop bringing them home. At least if I go to their place, I can slip out early. This awkward morning routine just sucks.
The door finally opened and Shelley stepped out. Or was it Sheila? Arizona had been drinking the night before, although not quite drunk enough to blame her uncertainty on the alcohol. She preferred to blame it on the decibels in the bar that had made their initial meeting more an exercise in lip reading than an actual conversation. Or maybe it was the stunning auburn hair that had distracted Arizona enough so that she hadn't heard. It had certainly distracted her from seeing the rather plain features on the other woman's face or her bony and jagged physique.
It didn't really matter the reason. They had left the bar without Arizona not being sure what her night's lay was called and honestly she didn't care. And it wasn't like they'd talked much once they'd gotten to Arizona's place, so names weren't necessary. It was a good thing Arizona wasn't much of a screamer, though, because she might have been worried as things got started that she'd be found out. But even that would not have been a problem. The sex was far from scream-worthy anyway.
"Thanks for a nice evening," maybe-Shelley said. She seemed stiff and her smile was a little too pleasant.
"Do you want something to eat? I've only got cereal." There were some advantages to not cooking. Being able to only offer cereal the morning after was one. It rarely was enough of a draw to keep them around. When it did, she'd go into the bathroom and use her cellphone to send herself a page to the hospital. If there was one perk of being a surgeon, it was being able to use work as an excuse.
"No, I've got to get going," the redhead said. "I've got to get changed for work." She came over and gave Arizona an awkward hug and a quick peck on her cheek. "It's okay," she said quietly, "I won't expect a call."
Arizona just watched the woman collect her purse and leave the apartment. Only then did she sigh out heavily in relief. She dipped her spoon absently in the bowl of soggy cereal. "I've got to stop doing this," she said to herself, but she knew she wouldn't. Relationships were hard, especially at Seattle Grace. It was far safer to stick to the little lesbian bar on the other side of town, pick up a woman for a night, and then move on. One night stands didn't send you flowers at work or try to meet you there for a date.
One night stands also didn't violate the unwritten rule Chief Grey had laid out for her shortly after she started working there. "Reputation is everything, Dr. Robbins. And unfortunately appearances are very important for our reputation. I expect my attendings to play a role in that. I don't care what you do in your private life, but keep it there. I'm not singling you out, mind you. I tell all my new attendings this. But seeing as how things went for you at Hopkins, I think you know what I'm trying to avoid."
As if Arizona would ever make that mistake again, regardless of Ellis Grey's admonition. No, one night stands were better all around. She wasn't going to ever run the risks she did with Sandy. Not ever again. It had almost cost her chief resident. It had cost her any chance she had at a permanent position at Hopkins or anywhere within a thousand miles for that matter. And it had certainly cost her her heart.
TBC