AN: Hi guys! I'm sorry for making you all wait a little longer for this chapter. To make up for it, I made this one a little longer. Thank you so much for the reviews, keep 'em coming! They're encouraging. I received a couple "Ew Mark" comments. I'm sorry that you don't like him! I am a devoted fan of the Mallie friendship, but I understand that the majority of Calzona shippers don't share my love. I just wanted to warn you all that Mark will be popping up here and there, but...I promise you that he will not cause jealousy issues, baby daddy issues etc in this story. Thank you for the follows and the favorites and you're all amazing.
Arizona was curled up on the couch that she and her roommate had recently purchased. He wasn't around to enjoy the fluffiness of the new cushions, but Arizona was enjoying the comfortable furniture enough for the both of them. Her iPod was connected to the stereo-surround sound that he had installed a few weeks prior, and the nasally, monotone voice of her professor bounced off the walls of the small apartment, filling the room with a detailed account of the evolution of pathology and its importance to modern medicine. The blonde wasn't exactly sure when it happened, but her eyes had fluttered shut and her thoughts had been completely dominated by the one thing she'd rather be studying. Or rather the one person. Callie Torres. The skater was all legs, and ass, and smiles. Arizona had always been an avid fan of breasts, but Torres' ass did not quit. And she was more than pleased with her observation.
A loud "BANG" startled her, and she sat up quickly, blinking furiously in an attempt to force her eyes to adjust to the light before the supposed intruder could reach her. She scrambled furiously to find something to defend herself with, falling short and clutching a freshly sharpened pencil in one hand. It didn't take long for Arizona to sink back down into the sofa, fumbling to hide her sad excuse for a weapon by tucking it behind her ear nonchalantly.
"This is how you're using my surround sound?" Her roommate scoffed.
"Nick! You're back early." Arizona beamed up at him and shrugged, her cheeks flushed with slight embarrassment.
"I know. I managed to catch an early flight back. Two early flights, actually. I guess I just missed you too damn much. And my surround sound, which you're abusing with whatever this sciency crap, is." Nick walked around the couch and plopped down, grinning as Arizona repositioned and placed her legs in his lap. "How's my girl? Tim emailed me last weekend and said he finally got you out of the library. Wanna tell me about that?"
The younger woman bit her bottom lip sheepishly and shook her head slightly, knowing that Nick would pry until she revealed whatever it was she was hiding from him. "I'll share my story if you promise to tell me how freakin' Africa was. You're there for two weeks and you're seriously asking me about my night at a dive bar with my brother, who totally sabotaged my game."
Nick couldn't help but laugh at her and the way her voice rose half an octave in frustration when she mentioned Tim. "You met a girl, didn't you?" He arched an inquisitive and knowing brow.
"I might have. It's probably nothing. She gave me her number and I…I might have stared at it every day since but I can't bring myself to call her. I have midterms and-and I have things to do. Important things. I have to study and –"
"And you have to go to the hospital to visit the sick kids, and you have to shadow that pediatric surgeon you made me contact for you. Blah, blah, blah." Nick placed his hand on her leg, squeezing it gently. "You need to relax. If you want to call this chick, you call her. If you want to pretend to be a mature, responsible adult about it – do it when exams are over. Reward yourself. As cute as you are, I don't want to see you sulking every day because you're running out of excuses to stop making yourself happy."
"I hate you when you're right," she stated.
"It'd be nice to see you have fun again. Just…not with a new girl every night. Leave some for the rest of us."
"Ass."
"Scaredy cat."
"Fine. I'll call her when exams are over. Just a few more days. I can do that."
Amusement etched Nick's features and he simply nodded, knowing that any further communication wouldn't be heard by Arizona – her mind was already in another realm, playing out the possibilities of calling this ever-allusive Callie. When Arizona set her mind to something, she did it. When she set her mind on someone, she did them. But something told him that this would be different. His best friend never froze up around women unless she knew they'd be an extended distraction, and not someone she could discard after a night of keeping him awake with excessive grunting.
Only time would tell.
Callie jumped back, her mouth falling agape as a low squeal rumbled from her throat. Her eyes fell to survey the damage she had just caused by dropping the very hot, very full pot of coffee. After a moment of silent grieving, she began her frantic search for paper towels, or anything that would hide and absorb the evidence of her crime. Callie had taken the job a few weeks ago, and she was still getting acclimated to their storage system (which made no sense to her, and probably never would). The normally stoic woman was whining in her isolation, stranded on her own island of spilled coffee. Thankfully she was alone and there was no one to witness her moment of weakness.
"Callie Torres, I know you did not just drop and destroy a brand new coffee pot. Nuh-uh. Because that would mean that I will be going without coffee until lunchtime, and I have all kinds of paper work to fill out. So you are going to tell me that that brown liquid pooling around your feet is an unfortunate and untimely loss of bodily fluids."
The mortified Latina whirled around upon hearing her name addressed by her very small, very intimidating coworker.
"Sorry Bail-…Miranda." Callie winced, embarrassed, ashamed, and slightly terrified under the scrutinizing lens of Miranda Bailey. "I'll buy a new one tonight. And I'll buy you a cup now," she offered weakly, clearing her throat in an attempt to regain composure.
"Uh huh. You better." Bailey smiled slightly, subtly teasing her coworker. "You know how I like it. I'll clean this up. Go get my caffeine before I change my mind."
The very humbled skater turned on her heel and quickly retreated, swiping her purse off of her desk and scurrying out of the office. Callie wasn't one to surrender so easily. She had always taken pride in her assertive nature. Her independence and innate strength had been wavering as of late, but her personal life had no affect on her feelings for Miranda. Tough as the tiny woman appeared to be, Callie had an inkling suspicion that the woman liked her, respected her, even. And the sentiment was returned whole-heartedly. Miranda was Callie's superior, and had been assigned to accompany Callie on any and all cases until she felt completely comfortable with solitary casework, and the woman knew what she was doing.
Callie had always recognized her lack of skepticism, as she was inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt, even when she knew they didn't deserve it. She was sympathetic, empathetic, observant. Miranda was all of these things, and more. Her ability to sift through other people's bullshit was something Callie aspired to learn – as her flaws had gotten her burned more times than she could count. She needed this job in more ways than one – for the skills, for the money, for her sanity.
The moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness had pulled her thoughts elsewhere, to a place she didn't want to go. It was just a broken coffee pot, but if she couldn't pour coffee, could she really thrive on her own? It was a stupid comparison, she knew, but the lack of caffeine was getting the best of her. Callie's decision to take this job had left her bereft of her family's support and financial stability, but it gave just as much as it took. Usually. Her career choice strayed away from her father's plans for her. The Torres' were business people. They were professionally ruthless and quickly monopolizing the hospitality industry. She wanted nothing of it. In her sophomore year of college, she declared that she wouldn't be stepping up to work beside her father in order to help those in need.
Displeased with his daughter's dream, he cut her off, financially and personally, leaving her alone with her passion. There was no power, no notoriety in the social work industry – but Callie tried not to care. Her passion was enough to sustain her (at least she hoped it would be). And now, here she was, frantically straightening out crumpled dollar bills and handing them to an under enthused barista as her phone's ringer beckoned her.
It was an emergent text from Bailey: Get back here now, Torres. Bring the coffee. We need to go to the hospital. Possible parental negligence.
Arizona's tongue moved against the roof of her mouth as her eyes scanned the chart that she was holding. Her eyes narrowed as she read the details of the particular patient's history, and she tried her best to ignore the lump that was forming in the back of her throat. The medical student knew that it was both a pleasure and privilege to be granted access to a patient chart, let alone be granted the opportunity to present the case to an attending, but the uncomfortable nature of the impending situation was enough to dilute any excitement that she reserved.
"Present the patient, Dr. Robbins."
"Joseph Stern, nine years old. Came in accompanied by a neighbor with dual tibia fractures after jumping from his tree house. Patient has a history of broken limbs. Vitals are stable, patient is coherent but allergic to penicillin and codeine."
"Have we called his parents?"
"Yes sir. They're on their way."
"And have we contacted DSHS?"
"I believe your resident made the call."
The attending nodded and proceeded to dismiss Arizona, taking Joseph's chart from her as she exited the small exam room. It was still up for discussion whether or not the young boy would require surgery, and she could only deduce that the decision would be made as soon as the parents arrived. It was not a good day for the youngest Robbins sibling, but she had to stick it out. If there was one thing Arizona needed to learn, it was how to properly compartmentalize her personal feelings and the objectivity she needed to maintain the professional front that was necessary in the world of medicine.
Luckily, she had a few minutes to strengthen her will power while she waited for the social workers to arrive. She could turn her back on the tiny, tiny human's loyalty to his parents and focus on the big picture-his physical safety. Any parent that leaves a nine year old alone to see a movie, or to attend a football game needs a wake up call. Ethical dilemmas weren't on her agenda for the week, or even the month – but this was the job. This was her calling. Keeping tiny humans safe. Being their advocate, their defender when times got tough…no matter how difficult it may be.
Arizona's forehead was supported by her hands, palms pushed into her eyes, rubbing them gently as she attempted to rid herself of personal opinion, so she could get through the day and return to her apartment. Nick had promised her pizza and beer, and even though she was certain she'd be on a strictly liquid (albeit alcoholic) diet when she returned home, the promise of pizza was something she wanted to hold on to.
A hand on her shoulder prompted Arizona to quickly remove her hands from her face. She conjured an impassive expression and turned around slowly, unsure of what to expect. Her eyes scanned the upper quadrant of the room, meeting only empty space, which prompted her to lower her line of vision.
"Hi, can I help you?" she inquired, using her parent-friendly, customer service voice.
"Yes. I'm Miranda Bailey from the Department of Social and Health Services. My associate will be up here in a few moments. We're here to assess the…" Miranda trailed off, opening her folder and quickly reading a line, "…the Stern case."
"Of course. I'm Arizona Robbins. I'm actually just a student but I'll go find the attending in charge. Oh, the parents haven't arrived yet," she informed the woman. Arizona smoothed out her lab coat and sidestepped the shorter woman, preparing to locate the attending she had been shadowing for the majority of the day. "Actually, you know what? Let me have a nurse page him, excuse me for just one moment."
Arizona turned around and leaned across the counter she had been resting on. Her small sanctuary was a little less Walden's Pond and a little more of a nurse's station. Huh, go figure. "Colleen, could you page Dr. Hampton for me?" The nurse nodded, locking her gaze with Arizona's a little longer than needed. "Thank you," Arizona cooed, turning back around to address Miranda. "He should be right up."
The last sentence came out of Arizona in a strangled squeak. Her mouth closed slowly and she sucked on her bottom lip nervously as her eyes darted between Miranda Bailey and her associate.
"Oookay…" Miranda trailed off, giving Arizona a questioning look before breaking the silence. "This is Calliope Torres, she will also be advising on the Stern case."
Callie cleared her throat and nudged her coworker, an action that received a threatening glance, and then a rectification.
"I'm sorry, how dare I use her full name. This is Callie Torres."
"Calliope."
Callie took a step back, shifting her weight to one foot as she stared at Arizona. Part of her was angry that this tiny blonde woman, this tiny, hot, hot blonde woman, who neglected to use the number Callie had so willingly dispensed, had the audacity to address her by her appalling name. The other part of her was struggling to keep her defenses up. The name Calliope had rolled off of Arizona's tongue as if she'd practiced it in another life. It sounded natural. It sounded…beautiful. Arizona's pronunciation of her full name had almost made up for the years of playground bullying that she had endured.
She could feel two sets of eyes on her. One pair, the most brilliant sapphire she'd ever seen, and the other, soulful chocolate hues that were similar to her own. "Uh," she stammered, quickly shoving her hand in front of her and offering it to Arizona. "Callie's fine. It's nice to…meet you, Arizona." The words were deliberately punctuated, as though she were trying to convey some secret message to Arizona. Something hostile that sounded like, Thanks for letting me make a fool of myself and not calling or texting for two weeks. But it sounded more mentally handicapped than it did packed with angry subtext.
"While you two figure out how to speak English like adults…I'll be conferring with the doctor. Torres, when you pick your jaw up off the floor you can join me," Miranda commanded, turning around as the Attending approached, pulling him off into a corner to discuss the details of the case.
"Calliope…" Arizona started.
"Callie," the skater corrected, trying her best to stay angry. Her ego had taken a rapid nosedive after the apparent misinterpretation of Arizona's signals, and it wasn't going to ascend any time soon.
"Callie, I still have your number."
"Okay?"
"I was going to use it – I just wanted to wait a little bit."
"It's been two weeks. It's okay. I get it. I'm just some girl who kissed you on a dirty street."
"There was some dancing too if I recall," Arizona teased, trying to diffuse the situation by utilizing her dimpled smile.
"Was there? I guess I don't remember," Callie shrugged, averting her gaze. The dimples were definitely working.
"Oh, that's a shame. Because I remember your hands…here," Arizona reached out, running her fingertips along Callie's side, before dropping her hand and looking around.
"Mhm," Callie mumbled.
"I still have your number because I plan on using it."
"Save it," Callie bit back, her expression hardened for less than a second before she sighed. "Use it. Now if you'd excuse me – I have to work."
"Wait. I'll do you one better." Arizona reached into her pocket and pulled out a notebook and pen, scribbling her number down and giving it to an already retreating Callie.
"Don't be an Arizona, Callie. I'm expecting a text in no more than two to four days."
Callie shook her head and slid the piece of paper into the shallow pocket of her blazer, taking a few steps back, heading in the direction Bailey had gone with the doctor. Her head cocked to the side, and a small smirk played across her features. "I might." One graceful spin later, Callie's back was to Arizona and she was walking towards Bailey, swaying her hips with each step, her backside nearly on fire from the intensity of Arizona's stare. Yup. Callie Torres still had it.
AN: There we have it. I feel a little guilty for leaving you all hanging but I promise you that there is a date/private interaction time in the near future. The very, very near future. As always, reviews are appreciated.