You Take Me the Way I Am
This is a series of oneshots based on the song The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson. They aren't connected to each other, just some stories that popped into my head while listening to the song. Some are funny, some are serious. Please read and review! I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine.
A/N This one is a little angsty, and it took me a while to write, because angsty Arizona is much less fun than perky Arizona. Hope you like!
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. All credit goes to Shonda Rhimes.
You need a light, I'd find a match.
(Callie POV)
Ugh, I hate missing Sofia's bedtime, I think as I look down at the clock in my car. As I pull up to the house, I see that it is completely dark. Hmmm, it's not late enough for Arizona to be asleep.
I quickly pull into the garage and get out of the car, shedding my jacket as I walk in the door. I look through the living room, expecting to see Arizona sitting on the couch watching TV with a glass of wine, but it's empty. I move through the kitchen and dining room, both being empty as well, before heading up the stairs.
I peek in on Sofia, good, out like a light, and make my way to our bedroom. I quietly open the door and there's nothing. She's not reading, she's not sleeping, there's nobody in here. The bathroom door is open, and the light is off, but I check in there anyways. Empty.
Her car was in the garage, where could she be? I think as I walk down the hall to the guest bedroom and bathroom. Both empty. Panic starts to creep in as I hurry downstairs to the one place I haven't checked, the office. I throw open the door, expecting to be hit with the sight of my wife buried in medical journals, but once again I come up empty. And then I hear it. Creak….creak….creak…
It takes me longer than it should to realize what the noise is. It's the swing seat out on our back porch. I glance out the window and all I see is black. No porch light, that can't be good.
I walk out the back and with the help of the moonlight, I see the blonde locks that I've fallen in love with. She is slowly swinging, with a glass of wine and something else in her hand, I can't tell what. I walk to the swing and sit down without her acknowledging my presence. When I look at her hand again, I can see that the other object is an unlit cigarette. Shit, this isn't good at all.
"Arizona, what happened?" I ask, and get no response. She still hasn't acknowledged that I am here. I start replaying the events of the day, trying to remember if I had upset her, but we hardly saw each other today, so I reason that I haven't done anything wrong.
It isn't until I brushed a blonde curl behind her ear that she responded, and when she did, her voice was full of pain, fear, and sorrow and it nearly broke my heart.
"All morning, the only thing I could think about is how excited I am that our baby girl is turning one tomorrow. I was thinking about her party, and her cake, and how happy I am that she is healthy and beautiful, and then…well, then I had a surgery. We had to go in to fix a brain bleed on a 9 month old. At some point during the surgery, she started to bleed out. Derek fixed it almost a quick as it happened, but for those few seconds when the monitor alarm was going off, it hit me."
For the first time since I sat down, she lifted her head and her blue eyes met my brown ones. Her beautiful blue eyes, usually shining with joy and cheer, were instead glistening with tears. She held my gaze as she continued.
"A year ago, Calliope, you were on that table, in that exact same OR, fighting for yours and Sofia's lives. And when I remembered the feeling of being in the gallery watching, being unable to do anything to save you, I couldn't handle it. I had to scrub out of that surgery today, because I couldn't get the images of you lying on that OR table, you lying in that hospital bed, or Sofia in that incubator out of my head. And then, for the first time since Sofia was born, I wanted a cigarette. What if you hadn't made it, or what if Sofia hadn't made it? I wouldn't have been able to go on, and that thought crushed me, and sent me to an on call room, and I cried, in fear of something happening to you guys again, and I cried because I couldn't shake the thought that it was all my fault."
By that point, my own tears were threatening to spill over, and Arizona moved her gaze back to her hands.
"That was my last surgery, so I went and got Sofia, and we came straight home. She was cuddly, and that helped, but I just couldn't shake the thought that the accident was completely my fault. If it weren't for me, we wouldn't be celebrating her birthday for another 17 weeks, and so after I put her to bed, I came out here to smoke. But I couldn't even do that, because I don't have a freaking lighter. And I didn't have the motivation to go find a match, because as mad as I am at myself for hurting you and Sofia, I know that you would be more upset to come home and find me smoking. And so I've just been sitting here, thinking about last year, and trying to convince myself that you're okay, and that she's okay, and I just…I'm so sorry, Calliope."
I place my hands on her cheeks and turn her head so she's facing me. She closes her eyes, and I use the pads of my thumbs to wipe away the tears that escaped.
"Look at me, Arizona." I say softly, my own voice full of pain, knowing that she is beating herself up over this. After a few seconds, she opens her eyes, and I hold her gaze for a minute longer before I begin talking.
"Look at me, sweetheart, I'm alive and I am healthy. I can't imagine what you went through that day, but I do know what you are going through now. I worry every day that something will happen to you or Sofia, but every night, when I come home and see my beautiful wife with our beautiful daughter, who is alive because of YOU, all of that worry is replaced with love and joy and peace, because you are okay, I am okay, and Sofia is okay. So you need to look at me, and see that I am fine, okay? And you need to stop blaming yourself for something that happened a year ago, because we are okay."
She just nods her head and gives me a small smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. I move to stand up, and she opens her mouth to say something but I cut her off.
"I'm just going to get a glass and change, so that when I come back out here we can sit and drink wine and be alive and well together. Okay?"
She nods, and I make my way inside. I head upstairs and throw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, and then grab a matchbook from my bedside table and a candle from the dresser. I smile when I realize that the matchbook is from our wedding. She's my wife. That thought still makes me break into a smile every time, and I'm not sure that will ever stop.
I pass through the kitchen and grab a wine glass, then make my way back outside. When I sit down, I hand her the matchbook and tell her that it's okay, if she needs it. She starts to grab a match, and then she looks down, and for the first time since I've been home, I see the magical smile of my wife. She tosses the cigarette and the matchbook onto the ground and looks at me, dimples out in full force.
"You're okay." She whispers, brushing the hair out of my face.
"I'm okay. And we, Mrs. Robbins-Torres, are great." I respond as I lean in to kiss my wife.
