Disclaimer: I own nothing...
Author's Note: So, yes, I decided to add my own Post-Season 6 oneshot to the pile. This is probably my fifth or sixth version of this story. I didn't write it 5/6 times, but I had at least 5 different ideas for it. It's been through a bunch of changes, so I hope you enjoy this final product. And if any of you are readers of The Scars to Prove It... I'm working on the next chapter of that. This is probably the 10th time I've written it, it's a really hard chapter to get out, but it's getting there. And anyways, here you go!
Just Hold Me.
It wasn't the tossing and turn that woke Arizona up. It wasn't the labored, ragged breathing of the brunette next to her. It wasn't the way her girlfriend clawed and clawed at the sheets. It wasn't the straggled, nearly scream-like moans. No, it was the way the bed shook gently back and forth after all those things ended - after the tossing stopped, after the hard breathing became so quiet it was nonexistent, after the hands stopped clawing, after the moans were a thing of the past - that managed to wake Arizona up.
She stared into the pitch blackness of the room for a minute, allowing her eyes time to adjust before turning to look for the source of the movement. Her gaze eventually landed on Calliope, and even though her back was turned, Arizona would swear that she was the most beautiful thing she had ever laid her eyes upon. Small strands of light from the streets outside streamed in through the window beside Calliope, lighting up her silhouette. She watched the brunette's body move as she breathed, expecting a steady rise and fall. Instead, she watched an uneven, shaky pattern.
Was she just cold? Arizona reached out and gently grabbed the comforter, planning to pull it tighter around her girlfriend, but her hand lightly grazed Calliope's back and she stopped. Was she tensing? Arizona furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Was she awake?
"Calliope?" she called softly.
Callie cringed. She didn't mean to wake Arizona up. She didn't want the other woman to know. She didn't want her to see her like this. She had done so good up until this point, and now she blew it. All because of one tiny little nightmare. She hadn't had one since she was ten years old, and all it took was one small event to change that. She hated the feeling.
She felt Arizona's hand on her back, hesitant and unsure, but still comforting, or at least trying to be, and she realized that neither of them really knew what to do. Because usually the roles were reversed. Arizona was the one who got the nightmares, not Callie. Callie was the one who knew how to make someone forget about them with barely trying, not Arizona.
The blond said her name again and this time, Callie reluctantly turned around to face her girlfriend. It didn't take long for Arizona to notice the tear tracks on Callie's face and the redness around her eyes, and that's what Callie was afraid of. Arizona's hand rose to gently wipe at the tear stains as she let out a soft breath of air.
"Calliope, what's wrong?"
Callie felt her throat grow dry. What was she supposed to say to that? She wasn't about to tell the truth. She had spent the past two days comforting the blond. Assuring her that everything was okay. Fighting away her nightmares. Holding her while she slept, and staying up all night while she did so to make sure she was okay. Arizona had voiced every concern ("I wonder how the kids are going to take it"), every doubt ("Are you sure he's dead, Calliope?"), every fear ("What if something like this happens again?"), and Callie had held her hand and listened. She had voiced her anger at the risk ("don't you ever put your life on the line like that again, or I'll be the one to kill you, you hear me?") and Callie sat patiently through the teary-eyed punches (from which she has one nice little bruise on her shoulder). Arizona had cried for at least an hour and a half and Callie had simply held her tightly.
Usually Callie was not afraid to share her emotions, but she saw how it had affected Arizona. How was she supposed to burden her with the way it affected her, too?
And, God, how it affected her... He had stopped in the doorway and immediately a million thoughts started running through her mind. As soon as one stream stopped, another began. Would he shoot Arizona? Would he shoot the children? Who has he already shot? Who shot him? Maybe he's just looking for help. Maybe I should try to help. Maybe then he won't shoot... Who is he? How did he get in? Why would he do this? Uncle Roberto died in a shooting... Is this how he felt? Am I going to end up the same? No, calm down. It's okay. Just grab the gauze, then get in front of Arizona. What if he shoots her? The gun is right there... Should I try to take it? He's barely even holding it... What if I try, but I don't get it? Could Arizona get caught in the crossfire? Could Ruby? No. Play it safe. Just give him the gauze...
She shook her head against the pillow, trying to block off the seemingly never-ending repetition of thoughts that entered her mind in the exact same way they had two days ago. When would this stop haunting her?
"Calliope, talk to me," Arizona begged.
But what was she supposed to say? All she could think about was how different everything had become so quickly, in the span of only a few hours. Was she supposed to tell Arizona that she could have stopped some of that change? Some of that pain? Some of that blood? Some of that death? Was she supposed to say that she could have kept Derek and Owen from being shot? Was she supposed to say that she could have kept Meredith from losing her baby? Was she supposed to say she could have kept a lot of those people from being scarred for life? Was she supposed to say that she could have possibly saved Charles Percy? Was she supposed to say that she felt the barrel of the gun against her skin, brushed her fingers against its still-warm metal? Was she supposed to say she could still feel that heat scorching her fingertips, still see the gleaming metal every time she closed her eyes? Was she supposed to say that she could still hear him saying his name, saying "Gary Clark" and "Thank you" every time there wasn't anything else being said? Was she supposed to say that his hand was relaxed enough for her to have at least tried to take the gun away from him? Was she supposed to lie here and say that she was just too damn scared to save so many people? How could she even put that into words?
Did Arizona want to know how scared she was to go back? To some people, Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital was a safe haven, a place that was loved and cherished. That was how Callie felt about it, but to her, it was so much more than just a safe haven. It was her home. She knew that place inside and out, just as well as Richard Webber. She still had some of her things hidden in the basement, just in case. It was her home, more so than any building in the world, and now she didn't even know if she would be able to walk back in. How was she supposed to admit that?
"Calliope, baby, please..." Arizona was starting to sound desperate, and it was only then that Callie realized she was crying again.
"I love you," Callie whispered, her voice rough and cracking. But she did, with all her heart. She couldn't imagine what her life would be like if Arizona had been one of the victims of the shooting. No one had ever been able to make her feel as good as Arizona could. No one had ever been able to make her feel as safe as Arizona could with a simple touch. No one had ever made her feel as needed as Arizona could with a single kiss.
Callie saw Arizona's mouth moving but the words refused to register in her brain. Instead the images of her nightmare played through again. The gun in his hand. The way he calmly, confidently pulled the trigger. The bullet as it blew past her to lodge itself in Arizona's -
She bit her lip and pushed the images away. She buried her head in the crook of Arizona's neck, willing the tears not to fall. The last thing she needed was to cry. After all, she made a promise to herself two days ago, to be strong for Arizona. And as the minutes ticked by, it was feeling more and more like she had broken that promise.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?" Arizona asked, her voice slow and unsteady and unusually small. It made Callie feel guilty to know how much this was worrying her girlfriend.
But she had started protecting Arizona from Gary Clark two days ago in the hospital, and she'd be damned if she was about to stop now.
"Just hold me?" she asked, nearly begging, as she pushed herself closer to the blond.
Arizona whispered only one more thing as she wrapped her arms around Calliope: "Always."
