"I finally found what I never knew I always wanted."

A tiny pool of drool had begun to collect onto the pillow, a cheek crumpled face first against the bed, mouth hanging open and a quiet snore filling the room. Laying on her stomach and managing to take up every inch of her double bed, Callie was passed out, still wearing her skin tight dress from the night before and one ridiculously high heel.

The loud banging was relentless, tugging her harshly from the delicious sleep she'd been safely cocooned in. Not ready to wake yet, Callie groans in protest, taking the one shoe from her foot and throwing it against her bedroom door angrily. When the obnoxious noise quietens, she mumbles in content, pushing her face further into her pillow and trying to find the state of unconsciousness again as quickly as possible.

"Torres!"

Callie groans again, pulling a pillow over her head.

"Torres, I'm coming in, make sure your ass is covered this time."

"Suck it, Mark," she meant to sound forceful but it came out as more of a drunken, sleepy slur.

Ignoring his friend, Mark lets himself into Callie's bedroom, yanking the pillow from her face and throwing it on the bed, "get up, Torres."

"Go to hell."

Mark sighed, already used to her sharp tongue these days, "you can't keep doing this, Callie," he spoke to the back of his half asleep best friend, "you're making yourself ill and I'm not gonna stand back and watch it anymore. So get up, get your ass in the shower because frankly kid, you stink something rotten, drink some coffee and sort your damn head out Callie because you're a mess and one day you're going to end up in a state that even I can't get you out of."

Finally rolling over, Callie glares at Mark, sitting up on her elbows, "I don't need you to be my hero Mark, stop kidding yourself."

"Next time you call me at 4am because you've stumbled out of the club too drunk and off your face on god knows what that you can't even find your way home, maybe I'll let one of the good for nothing losers you let sniff around you take you home instead. Get up Torres, and get your shit together."

Giving a last shake of his head, Mark backs out of the apartment, letting the door slam loudly with a satisfied smirk, knowing the noise will do little to help his hungover friend.

Eventually, Callie forces herself out of her pit, brushing a hand through her knotted hair. She stumbles towards her bathroom, ignoring as she kicks over an empty bottle of wine. She climbs into a steaming hot shower and attempts to wash away her sins.


She barely recognises the sounds around her, nothing else matters. The gun shot still echoes around them and the stench of stale blood floods her senses, bright red oozing mess. "No! No!" the voice sounds distant, as though it's coming from far away but it's her own mouth making the words, letting them tumble from her dry throat.

You do not give up; do you hear me? You hold on! I promise, we're getting out of here, okay?"

She holds the woman tight against her chest, rocking and crying herself, "It's going to be okay, Gee. You're going to live, for me, for the kids. Just live."

Arizona clutches a warm cheek, shaking her head vehemently at the realisation, "no! No! Please, god, no."

Sitting up quickly, Arizona throws the blanket from her shaking body desperately, clutching her chest as she tries to breath. The sudden movement knocks the glass of water from the bedside table and sends it falling to the floor with a bang, shattering instantly.

"Shit." Arizona puts her head in her hands, rubbing her face and willing herself to breath, "just a dream. It's just a dream." She flicks the lamp on beside her, reaching for her phone with a sigh. It's only just after 7 but she's all too familiar with the fact that attempting to sleep again would be futile.

Pulling on her silky black robe, Arizona takes her half read book and heads into the living room of her apartment, leaving the mess for another time. She curls up in one corner, a blanket draped over her legs as she settles her nerves with a mindless romance novel.

A couple of hours later and Arizona made her way to her favourite coffee shop before work. It was out of the way and her friend always questioned why she'd walk the much longer route but she insisted the coffee was worth losing the extra twenty minutes in bed. And it had completely, categorically, absolutely nothing to do with the brunette beauty who was often found singing just outside said coffee shop. Nothing at all.

Today, Arizona noticed she had a guitar with her as she perched on the wall and played quietly. She had a small hat and a cardboard sign with 'thank you' scrawled in black marker pen.

Over the weeks Arizona had noticed she wasn't much of a performer. She sang practically to herself in her own world and seemed almost sad, like the weight of the world rested on her tired shoulders.

Arizona stands by the door of the coffee shop and took a moment to listen, the melodic voice of the stranger was soothing to the blonde, in ways she'd never let herself think about for fear of the answer.

"I know I'm not the only one, who regrets the things they've done. Sometimes I just feel it's only me, who can't stand the reflection that they see." Callie strums the guitar gently, like she is made to make music. She sings loudly enough but pays little attention to those around her.

I wish I could live a little more, look up to the sky, not just the floor. I feel like my life is flashing by and all I can do is watch and cry."

Looking up as she finishes her song, she offers a tentative smile to the blonde she notices watching her almost daily. It's probably her favourite part of her day recently.

Callie receives a bashful smile in return and it makes her insides flip wonderfully. For the rest of the morning, they both almost forget to be sad.