Disclaimer: This is AU. I do not own any of the characters from Grey's Anatomy. I just manipulate them to my will. Also, any line or phrase or setting that seems remotely familiar from any other show, movie or book, also not mine. I borrow…

AN: Sorry about the long long longgggg wait. I have no excuse. Forgive me.

AN2: So this isn't the chapter I was going to write initially, but then I got a message on that had some very good points and I wanted to address them. More importantly, I wanted my characters to address them because I think these things are very valid points, and I wanted to write Callie and Arizona talking through them.

Chapter 10

Arizona's POV:

"We're definitely in the right place." From behind shaded eyes I navigate our SUV up one row of parked cars and down another, each butt end being the back of one kind of minivan or another. "How big of a party is this? If I had known I'd have to converse with people I don't know I would have slipped a bottle of Jack into your purse before we left home." All I get from the passenger's seat is an unamused look from my wife.

"There's one!" Ali exclaims from the back, and I quickly swing the car into one of the very few remaining parking spots.

We unload, which takes some time when unstrapping a wiggly four year old, a very large wrapped present, and three trays of custom made cupcakes that get stacked precariously in Callie's arms.

"Ok, squirt. What are the- Ali! Get away from the street. You know better." I grab her by her arm and pull her back towards the open tailgate of our car. "Alright, what are the rules for today?" I ask while smearing some sunscreen on my hands and rubbing it over her face, arms, and legs.

"Stay where you can see me and don't wander off," she answers, her long, soft hair pulled up in a ponytail and peeking out from a mini version of the cowboy hat I too am sporting.

Ali races ahead of us as we make our way over lush grass and shaded turf towards the waiting party. It's a warm Saturday with a rare cloudless Seattle sky that is just perfect for a birthday gathering. The slap-slap-slap of Callie's flip flops echo beside me while her long legs and curvaceous hips look absolutely delicious in her light blue Bermuda shorts. And don't even get me started on how the breeze plays with the white top Callie is wearing. Even the smallest gust of wind whips the light material around her body, highlighting two assets in particular, of which I am very grateful for. Mmm, damn.

"We're so late," Callie growls, more to herself that to me.

"Yeah, well, who was the one that made us turn around and go back home when we were already twenty miles out?"

"Well who was the one who forgot to pack the first aid kit in the first place?" My wife rebuttals, angry eyebrows and all.

"We're going to a birthday party for a kid who has a doctor for a parent, which will be attended by other kids whose parents are either doctors, nurses, or something with fancy initials after their names. I'm fairly certain we'd be able to find a bandaid somewhere if we needed it." Again, all I get from my wife is a huff and an eyeroll. …It's been a hectic morning.

The sound of children playing and adults chatting grows louder as we get closer and closer to the picnic area. Colorful balloons that read 'Henry' and 'Birthday Boy' let us know that we are at the right place, and by the look of the crowd Henry is one popular boy. Thankfully one of the hostesses spots us right away, and so she excuses herself from the couple of parents she was speaking to and meets us at the edge of the party.

"Oh my god, thank you," Addison sighs when she sees the stack of cupcakes in my wife's arms. "I don't know how the hell I forgot to pick these up. They were on my list and everything but… Ugh- seriously, you two are lifesavers. This party is so- from now on I'm hiring party planners to do this kinda crap. It's too hard, too stressful. I'll stick to cutting open pregnant women. That's more my speed."

Addison leads us through the gathering of chatting adults and we place our gift amongst the others that are waiting for the birthday boy to get to. Ali has already vanished from my side the second she spotted the jungle gym crawling with tiny humans just like herself. Along with the brightly colored jungle gym, this picnic area includes two sets of swings, a merry-go-round that screams 'kiddie vomit comet', a blow up bouncy castle, and a face painting station. All in all, this is a killer party for a four year old.

Addison is just regaling us about how this 'small' party turned into anything but when Teddy appears at her ex's side, also looking a bit stressed. "Addison, you need to go talk to him. He won't listen to me."

"Henry?" The redhead asks.

"No, not Henry. Renee'." Teddy replies. I'm sure I'm not the only one that doesn't miss how the man's name drips off my friend's tongue with more than just a hint of bitterness. "Did you really think the best person for grill duty is the guy who comes from New Orleans? He's over there grilling up about a hundred hamburgers 'Cajun style'. You know what Cajun style is? Burnt!"

"Ok! Ok, I'll talk to him," Addison snaps. "Just- play nice, ok? Please?"

"I am playing nice. You see this face? This is me playing nice." But Addison is already gone, leaving Teddy to ramble to herself. She shoots me a look, and I do my best to keep a blank face, but apparently it's not blank enough. "What? I'm playing nice!"

"I didn't say anything, Teds." I hold up my hands in surrender, and thankfully it's enough to pacify the edgy blonde.

Teddy's attention is pulled away by someone I've never seen before, so Callie and I are abandoned to face the mass of strangers alone. Of course there are a few people we know through the hospital, but there are more that we don't know. Since our friends' split, and Addison's move into private practice, Teddy and Addison have become a part of different, and separate, social circles.

After a few exchanges of pleasantries, we migrate towards a picnic table shaded by one of the many huge oak trees that take up residence throughout the park. It's the only half vacant table around, and one of the two women already sitting just so happens to be waving us over.

We're greeted by the smiling face of Seattle Grace Mercy West's Chief Trauma Surgeon, Jillian West. "Torres! About damn time you showed up," she says. Despite my best efforts to like the woman- from the way she talks she and my brother used to be best buds while serving their time in the sand, not to mention how she saved Callie's life- I just can't force myself to be friends with her. Acquaintances I can do. I can make small talk for hours; one of the many things passed along when you have a southern belle for a mother. But there's this imaginary divide that I can't get past. I respect her for her service, and recognize that she a gifted and talented surgeon but… I don't know what it is. Nor am I too broken up about it.

"What are you doing here?" My wife asks with a questioning eyebrow.

"I was invited," Jillian replies. All I can do is stare at the woman with an equally confused look that Callie is giving her as well. "What? I was. Teddy invited me. Me and Henry are tight. He loves me."

"Mmhmm," Callie hums. "He loves you because he doesn't know you."

"Ouch, that was cold, Torres." The smirk on the Trauma surgeon's face tells me that she loves this sort of back and forth, especially with someone as brilliant and gorgeous as Callie. She and Chase's relationship could be considered friendly… if constant picking and casual flirting is considered friendly. Basically Chase does what Chase does, which is flirt none stop, and then Callie shoots the woman down time after time after time, which is usually accompanied by some kind of dig.

"Why do you say things like that? You love me." Jillian teases with a wink.

"Is that what it is?" Callie plays, then turns to me and says, "Sorry, cowgirl. Seems I love another woman. But we had a good ride, right? I hope we can still be friends."

I pause for a second, then shake my head. "Nope. You're dead to me."

And Callie just shrugs. "Eh. Oh well." This gets a chuckle out of everyone, even the woman who was seated next to Jillian when we showed up.

"Hi. I'm Violet. Violet Turner," the brunette says with a smile. "I work at Oceanside with Addison."

"Oh! Of course. She's mentioned you before. Um, I'm Callie. And my wife, Arizona." Callie says, matching Violet's smile with one of her own. "So you're… you're not the holistic one, are you?"

"Oh god no. No, I'm a psychiatrist. I specialize in family counseling, but I try to help anyone who walks through our doors. Be it an eating disorder, depression, uh- difficulties in a patient's sexual life that physical medicine hasn't been able to help. …Anything, really."

"Bet you have some wild stories you could tell us," I play, making the other three women chuckle.

We lapse into an easy conversation that makes the minutes fly by. The light breeze drifting across the park, carrying the flavor of cooking meat, reminds me so much of the lazy Sunday afternoons my family used to have years and years ago. Back when my father was still alive, as was my brother, and I was still confused. …About everything. Those Sunday nights, after a long, hard week of working the Robbins farm, Momma would work her magic in the kitchen while my Dad would take his place behind the big charcoal grill. And then, when everything was ready and the outside table had been set, we'd sit down and have a relaxed family meal and unwind, only to go to bed that night knowing full well we'd have to start all over again the following morning.

Even though the food is not near as good as what Momma would do, it's a fun party. Addison and Teddy have gone all out to make their little boy's four year birthday a smash, and all in attendance seem to be enjoying themselves. When Ali comes racing up to our table, hat in hand to give to me because it keeps falling off of her, her face is painted up like a tiger with little paths of smeared color where beads of sweat have run from her forehead. I make her drink a couple gulps of water, all the while her eyes locked on the playground where she is missing all the fun, then let her go after a kiss on the cheek.

"She's a cute kid," Violet says while we watch my little four year old scamper back to her friends.

"She'd have to be, coming from Callie," I say, which gets a slight blush from my wife along with a quick kiss for me.

"Oh, speaking of- I hear congratulations are in order for you, big Daddy. Or soon will be," Chase says. It's only because she is looking directly at me that I know she's speaking to me. "I'm telling you now that I'm not a big baby shower person, but if there's cake I'll be there. Why do you think I showed up today? Ain't nothing better than free cake, unless it's free good cake."

"How does she…" I quietly ask my wife. Besides Addison and Teddy, we've told no one that we were trying for another baby. Not even my Mom. Too many hopes and expectations to deal with too early on. But then I remember where exactly Callie works, and the overwhelming female employee population who just so happens to feed off of gossip. All it would take is one overheard phone call, one single glimpse at the stack of donor resume's we spent weeks shifting through. Or it could just as easily been a slip by Teddy, who still works as a physical therapist in the hospital.

So I let it drop. "Never mind."

"You two are pregnant?" Violet asks with a smile.

"Well, no. Not yet," Callie replies.

"Maybe," I correct her. "We might be. We just don't know yet."

"We just had our first invitro six days ago so it's still too early to know if one stuck or not," Callie explains with a smile. And I just love that smile. The smile that appears on her face at the thought of getting pregnant again, of having another little person in our lives to love with all our hearts. That smile… it's beautiful.

"Invitro, huh? Pegged you more for a turkey baster couple," Chase quips.

While I roll my eyes for about the hundredth time, Callie laughs. "Well, that's what we did with Ali. At first we tried invitro, but after a couple months of no success we figured trying it the old fashioned way couldn't hurt. Then three weeks later the pregnancy test came out positive. But this time it's… we're doing something a little different. I'm carrying, but we're using Arizona's eggs."

We share a smile, and a silent hope that in eight days' time we'll get another positive pregnancy test. But then I hear Violet say, "Interesting."

My eyes snap back across the table. "Interesting how?"

"Oh, no reason." She quickly replaces that look of curiosity on her face with another smile. Only this one isn't as genuine.

"No, go on. What's interesting about it," I tell her.

"Well- Did you use a Hispanic donor?"

"No," Callie answers. "He was white. A poet, who has a side job as a carpenter. Blond hair. Blue green eyes. …Dimples. I wanted as close a copy of Arizona as possible."

"Aww," Chase coos theatrically. But my attention is locked on the woman sitting directly across from me, the shrink who seems to be intrigued by my family.

"It's nothing." Violet tries again, but when I slide my sunglasses from my eyes and meet her dark eyes with my hard ones, she folds. "It's just… studies have shown that siblings of differing races- especially when one is a minority while the other isn't- there tends to be some added difficulties during adolescent and pubescent years, right on up to adulthood."

"Such as…"

"Everyday realities that come with being a minority. Your daughter will have those, as I'm sure Callie has had. But Alijandra's sibling won't have those. And that difference can very glaring, especially to children who are old enough to noticed but aren't old enough to understand exactly why that difference exist. Things as small as checking different boxes when having to identify race on forms, or… will you be giving your daughter a quinceañera?"

"Of course," Callie answers right away.

"Suppose you have another girl. Your youngest will be old enough to know what that her sibling got this party on her fifteenth birthday, but when she turns fifteen, will she get a quinceanera?" Dr. Turner asks us both. And neither Callie nor myself can answer her. "Probably not, right? Because that's not a part of her culture, even though it's a part of her sister's."

I've heard enough of this woman's shit, so a snatch Ali's hat from the table and bolt to my feet. But Callie's hand on my arm keeps me from leaving.

"Arizona," Callie says, trying to pull me back down into my seat.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Violet says.

"Really? Because it sounded like that's exactly what you meant to do," I spit back.

"I was just stating facts. Your two children will have vastly different experiences in society. …Because of the color of their skin. It's not right, but that's the way the world works. And as parents you should be aware of that fact while you're planning your family."

"You don't know anything about my family, Violet."

"Arizona, don't," Callie says softly. "She didn't mean to-"

"I know my daughter is different me, ok? More than once I've had people ask me if I was her babysitter or if I had adopted her from somewhere below the border, because this dark-skinned, dark-haired little girl in my arms couldn't possibly be my first pick of a child, right?" I pause, letting my words strike deep. "I know what society is, and I know how ruthless it can be to anyone it deems as different. And I'm sure Ali will have to bear that cruelty at some point in her life. And it breaks my heart just thinking…" I have to blink back the wetness in my eyes. "…thinking that she will have to go through that. But I can't control what happens to my children once they walk out my front door. What I can control is what they learn inside my home. They will be taught that what matters most is love, and acceptance. That just because a person's skin color is different doesn't mean that they don't have the same rights as everyone else. …Yeah, my daughter might get hurt. But she'll also know that she can come and talk to me and to Callie about it. About anything. About everything. My daughter- my children will be raised to be the change society needs. And they will know that they have the power to make that change."

I don't wait around for a response. Instead, I join my daughter at the swings and spend the rest of the day steering clear of Dr. Violet Turner. And after we've loaded up a very tuckered Ali and have turned our SUV back towards home, I finally start to cool down some.

"Can you believe that woman?" I sneer.

"Arizona…"

"What does she know about our family?" I keep my voice low as to not wake the sleeping girl strapped in her car seat in the back. "Really, Callie. What the hell could that woman know about our family? About what you've gone through? About what I've gone through? She just… just… Nothing. She knows nothing." When all I get is silence from the passenger's seat, I look over at my wife. "What?"

"Well… she wasn't wrong on all accounts."

"What?! What do you mean?"

"Just that…" I can tell Callie is trying not to work me up anymore, but then she catches my challenging look and she matches it. "I have experienced things that you, as a white woman, wouldn't have to go through. I mean, I know I had a privileged upbringing while yours was working class, but growing up with my skin tone automatically subjected me to some things that…"

"That… No, go on, Calliope. Enlighten me." I know I'm past the point of being open-minded to a discussion, but I just can't help losing it a bit.

"I'm not going to have this fight with you, Arizona. Ok? The things Violet said were… harsh. But not untrue. And they weren't new to me, so I-"

"Wait, what? They weren't new to you? So, what? You mean you've had those thoughts- those doubts before? And you never talked to me about it?" I chance another look to the seat beside me, and the way Callie avoids my gaze tells me all I need to know. "Perfect. Just… fucking perfect."

The rest of the drive passes in silence. And not comfortable silence. No, it's tense. Even after we get home and resume our usual Saturday mid-afternoon and evening routines, little is said between us. Violet's questions keep running through my mind, along with others that my never-ceasing brain decides to add to the list. Like… scholarships. Ali will get to apply to minority scholarships while the new baby won't. And it's not like they'll need that money, but it's just the principle of it all. I've never seen Callie as 'Hispanic' or 'Latino'. I fell in love with a gorgeous woman who is an Orthopedic surgeon, who loves to dance and to cook, who makes the most passionate love ever… and who just so happens to be Latino. But the world doesn't think that way, and so people are punished for just being whom and what they are. And I'll be damned if my daughter ever thinks that that is her fault.

Once the sun has set, and Ali has willingly gone to bed after her long and very active day (including a sugar crash after a very large piece of cake with blue colored frosting that seemed to get on every article of clothing she was wearing), I do my nightly round of checking locks then head upstairs to bed. Callie is already in bed, her back against the back board and an open medical journal in her lap. The bedside lamp beside her casts soft shadows around the room, but I can still see those brown eyes look up when I enter. She tracks me as I round our bed and move in front of my dresser, as I always do when changing out of my clothes and into my pajamas.

As I'm pulling the brown worn leather belt from my jeans, Callie says, "That was a fun party. Teddy and Addison did a great job."

"Yup," I answer with single syllable.

"When I was getting Ali tucked in tonight, she said that for her next birthday she wanted to have a party here so all her friends can pet and ride Ariel." She waits for a response, but when Callie doesn't get one she adds, "I told her we had plenty of time to think about it. But… I don't know. Ten, fifteen kids running around large animals like that? Just screams accident waiting to happen, don't you think?"

"Mmhmm." I shrug out of my shirt and toss it in the hamper, then add my bra atop the pool of jeans laying to the side to be worn another day. With a fresh tank top and a pair of shorts now on, I turn back around and am greeted with a very serious look on my wife's face.

"So you're not talking to me," Callie says, letting the pages of her medical journal close.

"What's there to talk about?"

"Arizona." Her tone is a mix of pleading and frustration.

"It's not like someone told you that you weren't qualified to raise a child of a different race than yourself," I growl while sliding into my side of our bed.

Callie takes a deep breath, almost as if she's calming herself, and then says, "That's not what Violet said."

"Really? Were you even listening to that woman?!" I have to force myself to keep my voice down, but I'm still louder than I need to be with Callie a mere two feet from me.

"Yes, I was. More than you apparently, because if you had been listening you would know that she never said anything about you not being-"

"I mean, she doesn't even know me! Who does she think she is to just butt in and-"

"She's a professional, just like I am. I don't need to know a person to know that if they jump off a three story building they're going to have some broken bones." She tosses the journal to her bedside lamp.

"Telling me that I don't know what my own fucking daughter would-"

"It wasn't about you!" Callie talks over me. That, along with the look in her eyes, silences me. "None of what Violet said was about you or your ability to be a mother, Arizona. None of it. It was about us. Our family. Our collective family. Our kids, specifically. And the troubles and difficulties they'll face growing up." A beat passes, one in which our eyes never break from one another's.

After a moment, Callie continues in a softer voice. "Ali and the baby will share a last name. Our last name. But they'll look different. And that's… it sucks, but that's one of the most defining things society places on us. I know you and I have never really…. We've never really had that talk, you know? We've never had to really talk about the fact that you're white and I'm Hispanic. And I think that's great. It's great that our relationship doesn't even recognize that difference, and that both of our families never even raised an eyebrow at it. But when it comes to our children and how they're going to grow up? Arizona, it's different. I mean, this is our family. This is something we chose to do. We chose to have Ali the way we did, and we're choosing to have the new baby the way we are. This was our choice. And eventually there will come a time where our children will realize that there is a difference between them. They're going to wonder why we've made it so difficult for them. I mean, they're already going to have two moms, and now they're going to be of different races. That's a lot of other for kids to understand."

"And you've thought about all this already, right? You've had these thoughts and worries and you haven't come to talk to me about them?" I ask, more hurt by that than what Violet said at the party today. "Why not? Am I that oblivious to what it means to be Hispanic? That I'm not even able to grasp the concept?"

"No, Arizona. No. Not at all. I just…" Callie takes another deep breath then scoots herself around so she's directly facing me. "Yes, I've thought about these things. You know? I'm in surgery and I'm working on a repair and my mind just kinda wanders. I think about you, and Ali, and the new baby. I try to decide what kind of snack to make for Ali to take on her first day to kindergarten, and what we're going to do about the house. I imagine where we're going to go for our next vacation, and I plan what I'm going to cook for dinner Sunday night. I think about all these things. And… I have you to thank for that, because before I met you I hardly ever thought about stuff like that. I didn't care about the consequences. But now I have a family, Arizona. I have a family to take care of, and so I think about things like that.

"So, yeah. The things Violet talked about? I've thought about them, for like a minute. And then the next minute I thought about you, about how amazing of a mother you are. And I know that, no matter what our kids are faced with, you and I will be there to love and support and protect them." Somewhere during her monologue Callie's hand has slid over to my lap and wrapped itself around one of mine. And with a crooked finger of her other hand, she pinches my chin and turns my face up to meet her eyes. "And I know that there isn't anything in this world you wouldn't do for our babies."

"Right?" She asks in a whisper.

"Right," I reply, a small smile making its way to my lips. I take a breath, and let the anger that I've bottled up go. And then, because Callie looks so beautiful in the soft light, with her eyes as dark as the universe, I lean in and place a light kiss against her lips. "I'm sorry. I just… She was talking about my family and I just…"

"I know, cowgirl," Callie replies in a hush. "You're very protective. And that's just one of the many many things I love about you." We share another soft kiss, then another. Finally, Callie pulls away and asks, "Are you ok?" I answer with a nod and a smile. "Good. How about we go to bed?"

The last small lamp is flicked off and my wife and I burrow into our heavenly mattress and soft blankets. Callie turns on her side and, reaching behind her to find my hand, she pulls me around her to where my arm is wrapped protectively around her. I nuzzle my nose against her hairline behind her ear, taking in a deep breath and letting her scent invade my body, while my hand runs down her abdomen and rests just below her belly button. In the last six days it's become my new favorite spot on Callie's body. The place where I touch, and caress, and kiss. All in hopes that just one egg sticks, and our baby has already begun to grow.