Sleep has evaded me tonight and so I used the time to write this fic that has been sitting in my head since about a week after The Music Event. I'm not a really good lip reader but I'm pretty sure that after Arizona and Mark talk about praying that she actually does mouth the words "Our Father", if not... sorry? Anyways, it's 6:42 AM and I've yet to sleep so please forgive the screwy tenses and any other mistakes.
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.
Our Father, which art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
in earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us,
and lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
the power, and the glory,
forever and ever.
Amen.
The Lord's Prayer
Arizona Robbins does not pray, she's never been big on a God whose followers throw rocks at people like her, but Calliope does and that's the important part. While she couldn't comprehend it, she had always found Callie's faith to be a breathtakingly beautiful part of her. Callie wasn't the kind to wake up before noon on Sunday for mass, she never said the blessing before she ate, and the only time Arizona had ever seen her set foot in the chapel was when someone was dying but her faith was still a part of who she was. She believed and it showed within her. Most people wouldn't notice it but Arizona saw her faith in the little things; how she fiddled with the cross that she sometimes wore when she was nervous or how she would look heavenward just for a split second before entering the OR. God was a part of Calliope Iphigenia Torres and her faith was irrevocably twined deep within her bones.
The last time Arizona prayed was when she was twelve years old and spending the summer on her grandmother's farm in Indiana. Her grandmother had been a strong woman who had been widowed early and managed to raise six kids all by herself, Arizona had reckoned that you couldn't survive that without some kind of faith. Three times a week that summer Arizona was pulled away from her spot on the porch to attend services at the Baptist church three miles down the road. She couldn't remember much besides running barefoot through the tall grass that grew beside the road, singing along with the old hymns, and how her grandmother would tug gently on her hair if she placed her feet on the pew in front of her.
Her lack of faith had never bothered her before but, sitting in the gallery as her hospital family worked to save her heart and soul below, she really wished someone had bothered to teach her how to pray. She mentioned it to Mark in hopes that his upper class New England upbringing had taught him how but all it had earned her was a snide remark and a sinking feeling in her chest. She was still glad he had been praying, even if he wouldn't help her, Callie and the baby needed all the prayers they could get.
Legs drawn up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around herself as tightly as she could and closed her eyes. She racked her brain for something to say to God but all she could think of was the prayer Jesus had taught his disciples that the Sunday school teacher had taught her so long ago. She reverently lowered her head and began to recite the prayer in hopes that God would catch her grander meaning, "Our Father..."