Title: Good Life.

Synopsis: Sometimes there is bullshit that don't work now.

Author: missadie.

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events 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.

Notes: I was inspired by the song "Good Life" by One Republic. I hope you enjoy, thanks for reading. I appreciate all the reviews and I love seeing them! The feedback has really been great thus far. Feel free to leave all criticism. Thank you!


I say, "Oh, I got this feeling that you can't fight,"

Like this city is on fire tonight

This could really be a good life, a good, good life

Despite the brisk wind and hazy drizzle, they sat outside. The wind dusted their cheeks and reddened by the cool air. And yet, they didn't make any movement to go inside. The atmosphere was rank and hectic. While it was gloomy and stormy outside, everything was still for the moment. The day had reached a peaceful standstill. Where they sat they couldn't see any emergency entries. They weren't tempted by the sounds of ambulance sirens. Not loud ones anyway. It was .. peaceful. It was easy to block out as much of the white noise as possible. They could slink into the gray mist without words.

She ate her salad, stabbing angrily at the pieces of lettuce and he munched on his robust sandwich. The events of the morning took a toll on them. They both sat leisurely on the plastic benches. The grooves digging in their whites coats, but none of them made a move. They stared straight ahead, glaring at the cheerful faces and watching the water fall from the heavens. She tapped her foot in the small puddle. Her trainers soaked through and occasionally rolled her feet across the pavement. Sighing heavily, she bumped arms with her conspirator. She hadn't known that she would find a friend in him.

In fact, Arizona thought he would be the last person. Owen ran a hand through his thick red hair. A few gray hairs were dispersed throughout. From the glimmer of the gray, you could tell they were a recent addition to his naturally red mane. He combed his fingers through his hair again anxiously.

"You're going to just pull it out," Arizona said pointedly and stabbed another piece of salad. She pushed it into her mouth and chewed harshly.

Arizona was frustrated.

She couldn't ibelieve/i this! She had explicitly asked Callie not to overdo it. She hadn't wanted a large party. She wanted something intimate with their closest friends and family. Arizona wanted something that they would remember, because logically their daughter wouldn't. There wasn't any reason why they should spend nearly a thousand dollars on the party! More so from someone who wouldn't remember a moment of it! Arionza knew that this was all Mark and Carlos' idea. Ever since Sofia was born, they had shamelessly spoiled the little girl. Arizona was vehemently against it. She had fought many times with Callie about it already. What more was she supposed to do? Callie found nothing wrong with spoiling their daughter. Arizona preferred she grow into a humbled family. How was she supposed to do that with two spoiled trust fund parents!

"Rough night," She attempted to make conversation again. Owen remained silent and took another bite of his meaty sandwich. It was thick with salami and pepperoni. It was the sort of sandwich that he warned his patient's against. Yet, Hunt really couldn't care right now. He needed something - anything - that would make him feel a little relieved. The nights were driving him crazy, days drove him through the ringer, and his off days were challenging.

"You could talk to me." Arizona prodded again annoyingly and bumped her elbow into his arm. Owen bumped his back with hers. He sighed and rested back against the bench. Stretching his legs, he glanced toward the sky and than to Arizona. What did she honestly want him to say? There was so much to say. He had hoped that his life would be easier. He had survived a war. Owen figured that God would give him a break. He thought that his life was going to be simple in Seattle. How much damage could a rainy city do to you? Owen underestimated the power that it had.

"It's always a rough night. He misses her, she won't come back. She needs 'time'. She's angry with me." He spits bitterly and takes another rough bite of his sandwich. Owen chews hungrily but each bite is vexed. His teeth gnashing against the food and jaw flexing with the chews. He swallows and shakes his head at Arizona, "I don't get it. How could she just... abandon him? He's her child."

The birth was his son was not a joyous occasion, not for everyone. Cristina had passed him into his arms like a loaf of bread. She had taken one glance at him and pushed him to Owen. Cristina had vehemently protested the birth of their son. She and Owen fought about it for weeks, which turned into a month, by then it was too late. She had no choice but to carry to term. Cristina swore that she had felt tricked. He had prolonged the fight, so she couldn't have the abortion. Owen vowed that wasn't the case. He simply wanted to show her that motherhood was for her too. Cristina disagreed, she wasn't going to "waste her time" being a mother.

She had moved out.

She moved out, and in with her savior - Meredith, of course, when the baby was born, he was pushed into Owen's hands. Owen had believed that Meredith would reject her. She would preach to Cristina that she should try motherhood. Afterall, Meredith would understand what he was going through. Derek had left her and nearly a year later, she was a single mother to Zola. No luck, in the worst times, the two women stuck together. The problem was, Cristina could aide Meredith. She could be the 'cool aunt,' but not the 'cool mom.' There was a significant difference between the two and she wasn't willing to live with it.

At first, Ian rarely cried. Everyone commented that he looked just like Owen. His eyes were sparkling blue, thick red hair; his features were growing more into the strong Irish roots. No one mentioned Cristina, except Bailey. She made her feelings of distaste known, but mostly to Cristina. He still couldn't help defend her actions. Until recently, he wasn't sure how or when it started, but Ian would awake screaming in the night. Not even Owen could calm him, but when he snuggled in Cristina's shirt, he would desist. It killed Owen. How was he supposed to explain this to his son one day?

Arizona placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. She rested her cheek against his back. Her golden hair traveled down his back. For a moment, she leant close and pressed her lips to his shoulder. She felt safe with Owen around. They had developed an odd bond. He felt like an older brother who she could speak to without restraint.

"Ya know, I love my daughter. Sofia is great, but sometimes, I feel like she's not mine..." Arizona sighed and traced shapes on Owen's back. She frowned and pressed her ear harder on Owen's back. She listened to the steady beat of his heart, "Callie gave birth to her and Mark's her dad. Poor ol' Arizona is just her .. second mommy. Don't get me wrong, she calls me Mama too. It just..," She sighed and added, "It doesn't feel the same."

Owen offered his sandwich to her and she took it from him, "Oh, what the hell!" She took a large hearty bite and smiled. It felt good to be bad!

Turning, he rested back against the bench and took another bite of his sandwich. His eyes focused out on the mist. It was easier not to think sometimes. It was just easier to pretend that he would walk inside and life would be easy. If he walked into the hospital right now, Cristina would forgive him, Ian would be happy, and God wouldn't have such a cruel sense of humor anymore.

"Do you need me watch Ian this weekend?" Arizona's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Wha-huh? Why?" Owen asked and lowered the sandwich from his lips, as he was about to finish his sandwich off.

"The fishing trip. Ya know, the exclusive all-surgeon-all-guys fishing trip?" A sculpted brow rose and she smirked, "What, you think the women of the hospital don't know about your boys' club?"

Owen chuckled good-naturedly, "No, I just forgot it was this weekend. Yeah. Yeah, could you?"

Arizona nodded and sighed, "Hey, I have this friend..."

Owen laughed and shook his head. He took a bite of sandwich and just as his mood was improving. Arizona had this idea. If she was in love, everyone else had to be too. Owen was coming to terms that his marriage may be over. The last thing he wanted was help. He refused to cheat on Cristina. She hadn't even finalized what had loomed in his mind. Owen hadn't the nerve to ask her. If she told him the truth, she wasn't in love with him anymore and she wished to finalize the end of their marriage, Owen wasn't sure what he would do or say. He wasn't sure how unbiased or professionally he could work with her. After all, they had a son together. They had a son and she had left him unattended. How unbiased was he supposed to be! How could anyone be unbiased in a situation like so?

Always the gentleman, he offered to throw away their trash. They had to return back to their lives. Their solitude was over. The mist was clearing and haze which clouded their minds lifted. Tossing the butcher paper and plastic container, Owen walked back and paused at the tall curvy blond. She stood in the middle of the stone walkway. She carried a large leather bag. The black pants she wore were form fitting and very flattering to her natural curve. Her simple shirt was colorful without hurting your eyes. She wore a scarf, although it wasn't necessarily cold enough for one. It was the far away, wistful, and enchanted look on her face which stopped him. Her thick blond hair framed her face and fell past her shoulders.

Owen waved on for Arizona to enter without him.

He stood next to her and quietly cleared his throat, "Ma'am, you alright?"

Suddenly, her face erupted into a grin. She sighed softly, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." Her smile softened to something sweeter and reminiscent, "I'm home."

Isobel Stevens had returned to Seattle Grace.