Please note, the idea for this came from a Figment prompt, check it out
People are not rain, or snow, or Autumn leaves. They do not look pretty when they fall down. It is not beautiful to witness the breakdown of someone else.
When Arizona Robbins leant her entire weight on me on the way to the taxi I could feel every inch of her skin touching mine. I was overly aware of her breath on my neck and her hand, looped around my waist, resting on my hip. I felt selfish for enjoying it. Selfish, because the alcohol was clearly masking the real issue and this was not just a drunk, giggling attending. Selfish, because there were parts of me that really wanted to take advantage.
I bundled her into the taxi and sighed. "I'm about to take my intern exam, which means I am about to be a second-year resident. My babysitting days are done."
"You're," she hiccupped. "Adorable."
I blushed, and ducked my head. She was giggling, and it was unlikely that she had even noticed, but I was mortified anyway. I cleared my throat and set my jaw.
"Just," I muttered. "Let me know when you get home."
I closed the door and watched as the taxi drove away, the hem of her dress hanging out of the door. My skin still remembered the feeling of hands. Shivers spread down my spine as I suddenly began to feel the chill in the air. I hadn't even realised how blind I'd been to the world while her arms were wrapped around me.
What is wrong with you?
I lasted two hours before the radio silence took control of my nerves. She should have been home ages ago. Not that I had any delusions about the way she saw me. Part of me was all too aware of the idea that the reason she hadn't messaged me was because I was not someone she messaged. When she needed to tell someone she was safe, I was not on her list of people who needed to know.
But I needed to know.
I called her twice before I found myself outside of her hotel. My hands were clenched into white knuckled fists by my sides. I pulled my jacket more tightly around myself.
What are you doing?
What was I doing? It was stupid o'clock in the morning. She was married. But separated. But married. What did I expect to happen? The best-case scenario would be that she spent the next day laughing about the crazy intern showing up at her place in the middle of the night.
I called her for the third time and when she didn't answer I pushed my way into the hotel lobby. It was a nice place. All the furniture was dark leather, standing stark against the white walls and the cream coloured carpet. The reception desk stood off to the side. It was a monstrous set up, of dark mahogany and computers. It all screamed expensive. It made my wallet ache just looking at it.
"Can I help you?"
The receptionist was a dark skinned, dark haired, dark eyed man. He stood clear of me by at least a foot and I was not a short woman. I offered an awkward smile and nervous laugh.
"I don't know."
He raised an eyebrow. "It's four in the morning, mam, do you have a room here?"
How had I planned to get into Arizona's room? My plan hadn't extended past turning up and just magically appearing before her. The silence spread between us for a moment before a lightbulb straightened my features.
"Yes," I said, with more confidence than I felt. "I do."
There was not a shred of belief on his face. "Room number?"
Room number. Do I know her room number? Had she ever told me… run to my hotel, room 231, the cap is in the second drawer… not me, but someone. Room 231.
"231," I repeated. I closed the distance between the door and the desk, smiling as pleasantly as I could without seeming too crazed. I wasn't sure if I was succeeding. "Room 231."
"ID?" he asked, tiredly.
My smile faltered, but only for a second. "The name is Arizona Robbins. I'm a surgeon at Grey Sloan? My birthday is…" I rattled off details that I knew about her – refusing to acknowledge that I knew so much.
He handed me a key card before I finish speaking. Everything about his demeanour screamed that he just wanted me to go away, but I didn't care. I plucked the card form his hand and all but skipped toward the lift. It wasn't until the lift doors closed before my face and hid me from view that ice began to fill my stomach. How pathetic that I knew all that information, that I could recall it on a moment's notice.
What the hell are you doing?
I recalled nothing of the hallway between the lift and the room. One moment I was standing, shivering, in the metal box – and the next, I was outside her door. The room number was carved out of what looked to be a gold metal, but was probably just gold coated. Like everything else, the door was a dark wood surrounded by white walls. Should I knock?
Before I can make that decision, there was a loud crash from inside the room. My mind was made up for me and I swiped the key card and pushed open the door.
The room was barely illuminated. There was one lamp in the corner by the bed which was on, but nothing else. The covers had been torn from the bed and there were clothes strewn about the floor. Nothing about it suggested that the blonde attending was the one who lived there. The aforementioned blonde was nowhere to be seen however. Then, a groan came from the bathroom.
"Arizona?"
"Murphy?" The sound of vomiting. "Oh my God, I'm dying."
If my eyes could have rolled into the back of my head they would. What had I been expecting? Of course she was vomiting into the toilet. I closed the door silently behind me and followed the sound of her groaning into the bathroom. She was sprawled out beside the sink, and there was blood on her face.
"Oh my God, Arizona, are you okay?" I stammered.
She lifted her head, staring at me with unfocused and groggy eyes. "Are you a hallucination? But why… would my… hallucination…" her movements grew a lot faster and she hoisted herself up and vomited into the toilet again. She sniffed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sat back. "Be you?"
Her question hurt a lot more than it really had any right to. I didn't let myself ponder it for too long, however, because the source of the previous noise became obvious when my eye fell on the shattered glass. Her hands were cut, and probably the source of the blood on her face.
"What did you do?"
"Well, hallucination Murphy," she dry heaved. "I tried to get some water and," she heaved again. "Dropped the glass."
I furrowed my brow. Careful to step around the prone attending, I moved forward and tugged open the cabinet above the sink. As I hoped there were a selection of bandages and antiseptic sprays. Nothing to stitch up any deep cuts. Hopefully it wouldn't matter. My fingers fumbled as I pulled them out of the cupboard, and I dropped the bottle in the sink.
Arizona's eyes were trained on me. I couldn't see them, but I could feel them boring into the back of my head. Or maybe it was just me, hoping that her eyes were on me. In all likelihood, they were probably closed, attempting to stop the world from spinning.
When I knelt beside her and took her hand I realised that her face was wet. Tears were making tracks down her cheeks. At first, I ignored it, pulling on some gloves and wiping the blood from her hands. She barely flinched as I fished shards of glass from her skin. Most of her hands were wrapped in white gauze before her silent crying got the best of me.
"Arizona…"
"She's telling people that I died," she said quickly, half laughing, half crying.
"What?"
Her eyes opened slowly. She looked at me but I don't believe she was actually looking at me. "Callie. She's telling people that I died."
I nodded slowly. The Gala was the reason that April and Arizona had been getting drunk in a supply closet. Torres was the reason that this woman, this beautiful woman, was crying on the floor of her bathroom at four in the morning. Suddenly I felt the white hot knot of anger take hold in my stomach.
How I longed to make her feel better. How I longed to kiss away her tears.
Get a grip.
I cleared my throat and stood, offering my hand. She followed my movements but didn't seem to register what I was asking her to do. Instead of attempting to explain it to her, I just wrapped my fingers around her wrist and pulled her up. She weighed less than I had expected and I ended up putting too much force into my hoist. Arizona fell against me, prosthetic leg giving way and arms flailing.
I caught her without too much difficulty, but it had left us in a somewhat compromising position. My nose was buried in her hair and, past the faint whiff of alcohol and vomit, I inhaled the scent of her. With my arms wrapped around her waist, we stood there for a few moments.
After a few seconds she placed her hands on my shoulders and righted herself. She glanced at me curiously, and then proceeded to vomit all over the front of my shirt.
"How the hell do you even have anything left to throw up?" I yelped.
"I think I'm done now," she muttered.
I clenched my jaws together and slowly guided her back into the hotel room. Her stride was lopsided as she limped on her prosthetic. I sat her on the edge of her bed and then stared down at the front of my shirt. Ruined. Wouldn't want it even if I could have got it clean. I pulled it over my head without even thinking about the blonde sitting in front of me.
"Murphy?"
Shit.
"Oh… sorry," I squeaked.
Hurriedly I yanked the nearest piece of clothing from the floor. It was Arizona's, an old grey t-shirt, but I didn't care. The weirdest sense of vulnerability overcame me and all I wanted was to cover myself. Before I could even get the shirt the right way around I felt her hands on mine. They were rough with gauze but still unmistakably hers. My body froze.
I was half naked in front of Arizona Robbins.
I was half naked in front of Arizona Robbins.
I was half naked in front of Arizona Robbins.
"Don't," she mumbled.
Heat flooded into my cheeks. "It's just… you threw up on me… and I just didn't…. I'm sorry."
She began giggling. "No… no don't be sorry. Come here."
Arizona stopped giggling. Her eyes took on this hooded look, and they were very obviously not focused on my face. If it was possible, my face grew warmer. I did as she asked, unable to resist – when a wave of her breath hit me square in the face and the spell was broken completely. I squirmed away, pulled the t-shirt over my head and moved backwards. She watched me go, but I couldn't read the expression on her face.
I busied myself by shuffling around the room. I filled a new glass with water and placed it beside the bed, swept the old one from the floor and binned it. I even spent several minutes picking up the discarded clothing from around the room and piling it by the door. In the time it took me to do this, Arizona had managed to struggle out of her dress and into a t-shirt and shorts. I tried not to watch. I really did try.
Once she was curled up under the covers I stopped. If it was possible she was even more beautiful now, than she had been all dressed up at the Gala. When I turned to leave she called me again.
"Murphy."
My hand was on the door handle. I could have left. I should have left. I didn't leave.
I could see from across the room that she had started crying again. She was hugging her knees to her chest and the sobs were shaking her entire body. My heart broke in my chest.
People are not rain, or snow, or Autumn leaves. They do not look pretty when they fall down. It is not beautiful to witness the breakdown of someone else.