Title: First Night
Author: dropletsofjupiter
Pairing:Callie/Arizona
Rating:K
Summary: Set after S6 finale. My take on how the first night after the shooting would go through for Callie and Arizona.
Disclaimer: All television shows, books, movies, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work and the characters, events, and settings thereof are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: This is just me trying to find my way back to writing. Please note that I haven't written anything for more than six months, so please go easy on me. xD I hope you all like this one. Thanks for taking the time to read! This also may, or may not be a multi-chapter fic, since I have no idea yet where to take it exactly. Or I'd probably start a new one instead. Maybe you can leave some suggestions? Anything? :) One last thing, if you would notice, I changed my pen name. The old one's retiring. :D (this fic, not yet posted on lj.)
The last thing you hear is the faint sound of sirens circling around you, fading slowly before they're completely drowned out by your own thoughts. Realization hits you out of nowhere; freezes you right where you are standing. Because the gravity of things, of what just happened is suddenly spinning into you in such a haste, that it clouds your vision, until the bright red and white lights blur into a shade of something else entirely.
You could have died. If things turned out just a little bit different, you could have. Or worse, her.
The thought alone brings about a sudden fear that rises in your chest. The kind that you have forced deep down at a certain time, back when bravery has seemed to be the only choice you have. And it resurfaces from the back of your mind, fast, the blurry lights turning into solid crimson at once right in front of your eyes.
You find yourself asking why you did it in the first place; wonder if it was merely out of bravado or of impulse, since you mostly do things out of whim anyway. Though you know it's not natural of you at all, jumping in front of some loose psycho shooter and acting like some sort of shield, that is. Not natural because you know yourself as someone who will still think things through somehow, no matter what.
A turn of a gaze, your gaze, and you find the answer.
You offer her a small smile; release the breath you don't realize you're holding in the second you see her smile back. You hear her say softly, "I'm gonna go see if the kids need help finding their parents." Your trepidation abruptly sinks in, thoughts about how life can be so short and unpredictable frightening you in some way; about how you came across familiar faces this morning while you were on your way to surgery, and the next thing you know, you see them lying lifelessly on the floor. You feel the words begin to bundle up quickly in your throat, and before you know it, you're spilling them all out.
"People died." You start to say, then, "People are dead." There's a short pause while you try to string the words together as best as you can, and collect your already scattered thoughts to somehow make a point amidst of all the things currently swimming inside your head. "I- I don't wanna have kids if it means I can't be with you." You end breathlessly, withholding another sharp intake of air as you wait for any form of reaction from her.
"No." She whispers, then, "No." This time it's louder; it's firmer. The undeniable conviction in her tone tugs on your heartstrings, in both good ways and bad, because "no" is such a vague of an answer for that matter.
What she follows through leaves you entirely breathless, and you almost swear that you can feel all the air leaving your lungs in one huge exhale. "We'll have kids." She says; takes a step or two towards you. "We'll have all kinds of kids." You almost miss what she says next, because your mind seemingly has stopped and dwelled at what she has said first. But you hear the words anyway, though vaguely registering, yet you understand them nonetheless. And it makes your heart constrict tight right on the spot, because you haven't expected to hear these words from her; almost lost hope that you'll ever hear them. "And I always thought I wasn't cut out to be a mom. But you'll be a great mom. You'll be an amazing mom."
It takes a huge amount of effort from you, not to go running towards her, because you know that you need to let her finish. You know deep down that you need to hear these words, once and for all. So you ball your fingers into fists instead, as some sort of self-restraint; plant your feet firmly on the ground. Because you need this, you definitely do.
"And I love you so much and I can't live without you and our ten kids."
It doesn't take you long, and when you finally let all of your restraint go, you do the only thing that you know should be right at this point. The fear in your chest crawls back to the back of your mind, to that far corner where it used to be, with just one brush of her lips touching yours.
You feel her press her forehead against yours when she breaks from the kiss, merely for air; hear her mutter not long after, "So, the kids-" Yet, in turn, you hold her head in place with both of your hands, the pads of your thumbs carefully brushing along both her cheeks. "Just-" You say with a sigh, then, "can we stay like this for one more minute?"
A single beat. A contented sigh.
"Yeah- yeah we can."
You could have died, and you can't even tell how much grateful you are that neither of you didn't.
Later that night, you dream of gunshots and pools of blood scattered all over the marbled floor. You dream of going around in circles inside the hospital that you very much know like the back of your hand; going in circles but you keep on ending at the same place over and over, and it's tiring you in the process, the effect you can almost feel physically. At some latter part, you dream of piles and piles of dead bodies and bloody gurneys pretty much lying everywhere. But it's a lifeless Arizona that jerks you awake, her once striking blue eyes now empty of the life that there should be; the image of it, you're almost entirely sure of, permanently burned behind your eyelids and inside your head. Your hand darts out from under the covers at once, and instantaneously reaches out to the other side of the bed, her side of the bed; and your heart's beating its way out of your chest as you do so, for known and unknown reasons; scared to find that particular side cold and empty, like it once used to for countless days. Your fingers are met by a set of warm ones, yet the pounding in your heart doesn't cease; only slows down when you finally see that particular pair of blue eyes you've been struggling to search for.
"Calliope," You hear her mumble your name; the concerned tone bringing about a new wave of emotions almost enough to wash away all your fears. You don't know exactly when you have started to cry, and the way she soothes you by rubbing circles along the small of your back, while you shed tears at the crook of her neck, practically reminds you of how grateful you are to still be alive, though you'll gladly take a bullet for her at any given time.
Because this, this is what you live for.
"I meant what I said about having kids." You hear her say moments after, when she's sure enough that you have finally calmed down from the nightmare you've just had. You feel the sound resonate on her neck, and you don't fight the urge to trail kisses on it, because you know that it's just one of her many ways to take your mind off the horrible dream. You suddenly wonder in awe; try to ask yourself if she'll ever run out of ways and reasons to make you fall for her even more. Your lips then twitch into a meaningful smile, since you know for sure that the answer's no; and it makes you plant another affectionate kiss just right below her jaw, your smile turning a little bit wider when you hear her breath hitch.
"We don't really have to talk about this." You try to insist after a beat of appreciative silence, because, really, there are far better days to discuss this thing about having kids. "Not tonight, I mean." You take her hand from your back and thread your fingers with hers, and she can feel you smile when she presses a kiss at the top of your hair.
"I know." She answers dismissively. "I'm just saying."
You snuggle to her much more closer, your arms lightly circling around her waist. And you hold her as comfortably tight as you could, because this proximity, this closeness to her, you've lived without it for too long. Far too long that you know it's absolutely going to kill you the next time, if it happens. "For the record Arizona," You say with a pause, marveling at how it feels so good to say her name again, with the same fondness you've always accompanied it with before, not with the acerbity you've rolled out with it just this morning, before all the craziness has even began. "I'm not doubting what you said, like, at all."
She lets out a small, throaty laugh, the sound making your heart skip another beat. "Really?" She replies, amused.
"Yeah." You answer with a light shrug rolling off your shoulders. "But if you change your mind, I'm not gonna hate you for it. Not anymore."
"Calliope." She calls out admonishingly. The hand rubbing up and down your shoulder turns into a complete still.
"No, Arizona." You breathe out, in turn, before she gets to utter another word. "You don't get what I'm saying." You shuffle on the bed; disentangle your head from the crook of her neck. But you leave your arms as it is, circled around her waist, to stay as close to her as you can get; with your fingers grazing ever so often up and down the whole of her back. Because the distance, you just can't afford any form of it right now.
She gives you a quizzical look, and it makes you chuckle a little at the sight of it. "I don't get what exactly?"
Your expression turns into something soft. There's a certain fondness that comes across your face, with a look of affection that she absolutely does not miss. "You don't get that between babies and you, I'll choose you." You let your words hang up in the air, as you watch an affectionate smile slowly curl up from her lips. "I'll always choose you."
She reaches out for you, her hand then cupping a side of your face. "I'm not gonna change my mind." She whispers so delicately, as if she's afraid to break this moment, this bubble of something that you and her has managed to conjure. The pad of her thumb brushes alongside your cheek, and you just can't help but lean against her touch. "I know there will be times that I'll look like I might be, but I won't." She adds firmly, wearing the same conviction in her voice, one that she's had all day long. "I'm not going to."
"I love you, you know that?" You blurt out without even thinking, ever so softly, but it doesn't go unnoticed by her; and it's all a whirlwind of emotions from then, when she clings to you tightly and kisses you with all of what she's got.
"I know. But I don't mind you telling me over and over."
You watch her play absentmindedly with a lock of your hair, under a comfortable silence lingering for a few beats, then, "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
"We, Calliope." She replies, half reprimanding, half amused. "We should be sleeping."
"I'm not sure I'd be able to." There's a faint blush that spreads along your cheeks, and you're sort of thankful for the amount of darkness engulfing your room, because she doesn't get to see. "That I want to."
"Oh." She nods in what take you as a form of understanding, then, "Nightmares?"
You faintly shake your head in answer. "No."
She scoots even closer, if at all possible with the way you and her are tangled together now; accepts the kiss you press lightly on her lips with a dimpled smile. "What then?"
"You."
At some point, the thought of this being a dream crosses your mind. Because most part has happened at strange times of the day, when nothing seems real at all- like some sort of strange time vacuum in between the wee hours of dawn.
But, just when you're on your way to almost believing that it only is, she's there to remind you that no part of it was even imaginary. With her breath hot against your skin, her light snores lulling you to sleep, like it always does.
You close your eyes again; rearrange yourself so that your ear is pressed firmly against her chest, to that part just right above the heart. And you listen to the beating intently, with the sound of her heart being the most significant sound you know you will ever hear.