Sitting down in her chair in Dr. Walker's office and calmly folding her hands across the bottom of her stomach, she lifted an eyebrow at her therapist, "You, Walker, have the world's most excellent poker face."

It wasn't her time for her appointment, but she'd slipped up to psych during what she knew was Walker's walk-in time, just so she could see her face and see if the therapist had any kind of tells.

But her expression was impenetrable, unreadable, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Arizona. Would you care to elaborate?"

A smile came up on her lips as she narrowed her eyes, "I think that you know exactly what I'm talking about," she said in a hinting way.

And Walker simply raised her eyebrow, "Arizona, I really have no idea."

But she kept smiling, "I think you want to see me and Callie together as much as I do. I think that underneath that impermeable look, beats the heart of a romantic."

Blue eyes were met with the raising of both eyebrows, "I'd say this calls for much more of an explanation, if you wouldn't mind."

Even though she was certain that her therapist knew exactly what she was talking about, she settled back into the chair and started to recount the tale of the last twelve hours.

Arizona was positive that this waiting was the most torturous feeling in the entire world. It had been almost four weeks – twenty-six days, to be exact – since talking to Callie or even seeing her outside of the hospital, more than just passing glances.

And it left her with this empty feeling inside of her chest that she really, really did not care for and couldn't get rid of.

With a heavy sigh, she took a sip of the mug of coffee in her hands. Tonight was definitely not going the way she had thought tonight would be going. She had thought that she would have gone through the remainder of group, then she entertained the idea of taking a walk around a route that she'd started to take semi-often in the last few weeks, whenever she had the time.

Yet, she looked around at the three people sitting with her in a café that was down the street from Seattle Presbyterian – where group therapy was – she was here. An interesting turn of events.

As she pressed the button on the top of the cheap coffee dispenser that was kept in the back of the room, she could tell just by looking at the liquid that came out that it wasn't going to be good, but she needed the caffeine jolt. Taking a sip, she grimaced; definitely one of the top ten worst coffees she'd ever had. And she was going to keep drinking it.

"You should have bought a cup before coming," someone commented behind her, and she turned to recognize the redheaded woman as… Jenna?

Giving her a small smile, she turned to face her, "Yeah, I realize that now."

It was another one of those nights where they were discussing the topic of spouses, and this time, she'd come without Dr. Walker's prompting, because she needed some way to stay sane, and she had hoped that perhaps someone here was going through the same thing that she was. And maybe it was just her, but she couldn't get over the Sherry woman who ran the sessions.

They were only halfway through, and so far, she felt like everyone was on a different page than she was in their marriages. The people who had talked so far had this sense of finality about them, and not only did she not have that, but she didn't want it. After attending – this would be her ninth meeting – group for so long, she could say with certainty that there were some benefits to coming here.

Like last week, when they had discussed some changes their lives had gone through on a very basic level, and she just related to everyone when they talked about how shoe shopping used to be enjoyable and now it was a strenuous, unpleasant task. It wasn't something that she could feel like she could talk about to anyone else she knew and be taken seriously. But these people understood, and she found that she liked that.

But this week, the thought of sitting through the next forty-five minutes of miserable stories of marriages ending… yeah, she needed this coffee, no matter how terrible it tasted.

Lifting her eyebrow, she looked at the woman's empty hands, "I see you didn't bring your own coffee, either." Wordlessly, she moved a step aside and offered the coffee dispenser to her.

But Jenna shook her head and cast a furtive look over her shoulder to where most of the people were regrouping around the chairs as she lowered her voice, "Listen, do you want to get out of here?"

Surprised, and a bit confused, Arizona found herself leaning farther back, "What?" Was this lady hitting on her? What was –

Then the red haired woman's eye widened as if she realized what she sounded like, "No, I don't mean… A few of us –" she tipped her head to the side, where the entrance to the room was and saw a man named Matt and a woman, Denise, were both very conspicuously standing near the doors and looking over at them, "– are going to go get some real coffee down the street. And we figured, after hearing you talk about your wife, you might want to come with us. It just doesn't seem like you really want to be here right now."

Arizona wasn't a skipper or a ditcher; the one time she had skipped a day of school was when she was in sixth grade, and she had felt so guilty for faking a stomachache that she confessed to both her mom and her teacher. But as blue eyes roamed back to where Sherry was taking her seat, she didn't feel that guilty feeling that she might have felt, before.

Instead, she nodded, "A real cup of coffee would be good."

Matt, who was in his forties and was one of the only members of group who actually was still married to his wife from before his amputation, sat across from her, "So, you mentioned that your wife – Callie? – isn't talking to you right now. That's really rough."

Denise – who was the rather smart-mouthed girl she had thought was a teenager during her first few sessions but had since learned was in her early twenties – rolled her eyes, "No, it sucks."

Matt, Denise, and Jenna, as they had revealed to her on the walk to the café, had all joined the group a few months before she did and had quickly bonded their own little group. They'd never invited a fourth person to join them for their after-session coffee before, but after the last few weeks, they thought that she might be the fourth person they were looking for.

She kind of felt like she was joining a clique, but at the same time, she liked it. As Walker had pointed out to her a little while ago – who did she have in her life anymore? Beyond the hospital, there was no one, really.

Jenna, who was sitting next to her, nodded, "I can't even imagine it."

Jenna hadn't been married before her amputation, but she had talked about how it had made the long-term boyfriend she had propose to her, finally.

Matt made eye contact with her, "It really does just take time. I've been where Callie is and it is kind of like a waiting game." His story was that it wasn't him who cheated on his wife after he lost his arm, but she who cheated on him. "After Paula cheated it was tough. I didn't know if I could be with her again, but in the end... we'd both been through hell. I wasn't easy to deal with after the accident, and even though that doesn't make it okay for her to have cheated, it is what it is."

She wondered if his words were something that her wife would or could ever feel; somehow, she didn't think that Callie would ever say "it is what it is" about her cheating, regardless of what their future was. It just seemed so… blasé. She would never be able to say that about her own infidelity; she would find it just plain wrong if Callie did.

"Well, I think that waiting sucks. I think you should just call her up – better yet, go to her house and just lay it all out on the table," Denise spoke, slamming her mug down in emphasis, her eyes lighting up, "You slept with another woman once, five months ago. She left you and you guys took a two month break from each other. You've made a shit ton of progress and you want her back. Tell her – tell her you would do anything to have her back. Tell her –"

Jenna reached across the table and put her hand over her mouth, "Shut it."

But somehow, Arizona found herself laughing at the young woman, before she looked down at the dark liquid in her cup, "I would do anything to have her back. But it's not about me."

Ever since that night where they were supposed to have a date, that night twenty-six days ago, she'd felt like she was floundering with Callie. It felt like… crap. Dr. Walker had told her to use the time to build on herself, and she was. She'd made new exercise routines and had slowly started to introduce new movements to her leg. Well, old movements that she just hadn't done since her amputation. She'd made sure to go to group every week, and she was here now with these new people.

But "herself" felt miserable.

It wasn't even like it was in the first two months of their separation, where they would see each other when they would pick up or drop off Sofia. Because they'd – and by they, she meant Callie – decided that they needed some real space from one another.

Their relationship wasn't on her terms at all, and as much as it made her want to bang her head on the table out of frustration and cry at the same time, she understood that. This whole mess had happened on her terms, by her sleeping with Lauren. And now Callie held the reigns completely. Even as she didn't like it, she understood it. Logically, she couldn't call the shots because she couldn't control the way her wife felt.

Damn, but twenty-six days of not knowing was a long time. Torturous.

"Well, sorry, Arizona, but there aren't two of you. When I look at you, I see the woman who kissed me in the bar bathroom. Who left me to go to Africa, then came back. The mother of my child and my wife who cheated on me. I don't have two different Arizona's, I only have one. And I told myself I could start over with you, but I can't."

As Callie said those words, everything felt like it was frozen. Like her heart stopped but and they stared at each other, blue eyes searching for answers in those brown ones. And then, like a snapping of fingers, everything came rushing back. Confusion rolled in and she shook her head, even as the fear stayed stuck low in her stomach, "What do you mean?" Because it didn't make sense. "You kissed me. You invited me here tonight. You were the one who… I haven't been pushing you, have I?"

She tried to think back, desperately searching to make sure that this couldn't be somehow a result of her being too… anything, and then she stopped when Callie just shook her head, lifting her hands to rub at her eyes, her voice low, "No, Arizona – no."

"Then what is it?" And if she was talking to anyone else but Callie, she might have minded that her voice took on this near-begging tone. "Because I'll do whatever you need. If you can't start over then…" then what? "Can we move on?"

"I don't know," her wife's voice was rough with emotion, as her hands came to cross in front of her, the body language so closed off; so different than it had been only minutes ago.

"Then what are we doing?" she wanted to reach out and grab Callie's hands, make her feel their connection that was still there. She wanted to lightly run her fingertips over the soft skin of her jaw. But instead, she just dragged her hands through her hair. She'd been wanting this – this date for weeks. Months. And she felt like in seconds, everything went from right where she wanted to be, to crashing into the ground. "I thought the whole reason we've been doing everything was to try to restart –"

"But I can't restart, Arizona, and neither can you. You're getting the help that you need and you're acting like the woman that I'm in love with, and sometimes it's so easy for me to just give in to what I'm feeling. But then I remember how we got here, and I remember seeing the ring that I put on you on our wedding day, on her shirt. And I can't feel like that again," just as she finished speaking, the slow start to crying started in the other room, signaling that their daughter had woken up.

A thousand promises were instantly made on her tongue. A promise that she would never cheat on her again. A promise that she could trust her with her heart and that Arizona would hold it in her hands and cherish it and that she wouldn't drop it again. But she knew that Callie didn't want to hear them and she didn't know if her wife would ever be able to believe them. Instead, she closed her eyes briefly, holding a breath inside of her chest before slowly releasing, "What can I do?"

Because she really didn't know. She thought she had been doing everything right; she had been careful not to overstep. She'd let Callie be the one to determine when and where their first date would be. She just… didn't know.

And it seemed neither did Callie, "You can't do anything. You've done everything right in the last few months, but that's not – it's not the point. I think I just need time, without you. Really, truly without you. No dinners or lunches or Sofia switches. I don't know how much time I'm going to need to sort myself out. And I don't know if you're going to be there when I'm ready, which scares me, I'll admit that. But I can't let that hold me back."

Sofia's crying grew even louder, and before Callie left the room, she managed to get out the words, "I will be there, when you're ready," despite how tight her chest felt and how much she felt like she might vomit.

Those dark eyes gave her a lingering look, and it was as though that guard that had been up was completely torn down. The sadness that still haunted them dug right into her, making her stomach tie up into knots that seemed to strangle her, as Callie cleared her throat, "I, uh… I need you to not be here after I get Sof."

Despite the fact that her footsteps felt like they were weighed down with lead, she left the apartment, wondering how it could even be possible that she could still taste her wife on her lips and yet she felt farther from her than she had in months.

Much like Matt had just said, there wasn't really anything left for her to do. She'd spent what felt like far too long already talking with Dr. Walker, going over every single avenue of opportunity that she could possibly have. But as her therapist had told her, the best thing she could do for both herself and Callie was wait until Callie was ready to talk.

Whenever that would be.

Her phone ringing from her pocket nearly made her jump from surprise, and as she pulled the device from her pocket, her heart started beating fast and her face flushed from excitement when she saw her wife's name on the screen.

Quickly holding up a finger to Jenna, she excused herself from the table, leaning back and bringing the phone quickly up to her ear, "Callie?"

Immediately, she heard the uncontrollable, unmistakable screeching of her daughter in the background, and even though she knew the phone was pressed against her wife's face, Callie's voice seemed more distant than the screams, "Arizona –"

As soon as her name left her wife's mouth, the wailing that was cutting through the air took the distinctive sound of, "Maaaaaamaaaaaaaaa!"

And she could just tell how frazzled Callie was, and desperate and frustrated, just from the tone of her voice, "I wouldn't call you unless it was completely necessary."

Arizona had no doubt about that. And she could tell just from the way crying that this was one of the worst tantrums Sofia had thrown in… years. She was already reaching for her purse, "I'm on my way."

Her new friendly-friend-like companions looked up at her, and she opened her mouth to explain, but they were already waving her on, Denise with a fist pump into the air, "Go get your woman!" and Matt with a, "You should get coffee with us again next week."

She gave them a rushed smile, "I think I will."

Her drive to Callie's was quicker than it should have been; she might have broken some speed limits to get there. She knew that her wife had only called her because Sofia was having a tantrum; but the fact that it was the first time she was really going to see Callie in almost a month, regardless of the reason, spurred her on.

Her daughter's screams from inside of Callie's apartment could be heard as soon as she stepped off the elevator, and grew louder and louder until she reached her wife's apartment door. As she knocked, she briefly wondered whether or not Callie would even be able to hear it. But she must have been waiting, as the door swung open within moments.

Sofia was dressed in her favorite pink footie pajamas that Arizona had picked out despite Callie's protests against the color. Her feet kicked out to the sides as her hands bunches up into fists with the way they held onto her bear. Her eyes were screwed so tightly closed as her mouth was open, emitting those screams. Despite her closed eyelids, tears were streaking down her face so heavily her cheeks were drenched, and her nose was running heavily, too.

Then she looked at Callie, whose hair was thrown into a messy ponytail and Arizona could practically feel the exhaustion pouring off of her in waves. Her mouth opened to say… anything to her wife – a first word exchanged between then in nearly four weeks – but she didn't know. She didn't even know if Callie wanted her to say anything.

Instead she focused back on her daughter, "Hi, baby," the words left her mouth softly as Callie shut the door behind her, simultaneously offering the toddler out to her.

Her hands reached out, instinctively cushioning her little butt with one hand, and urging her head down onto her shoulder, stroking her fingers through the soft dark hair before moving her hand down to her back, caressing her palm up and down her spine, even as her back heaved as the toddler tried to take in deep breaths.

Rocking as she walked, she started in the direction to where Sofia's room was, as Callie stayed where she was, leaning against the closed door. She muttered words that she couldn't even decipher into her daughter's ear, just knowing that she liked to hear the sound of her voice. It took longer than usual – nearly ten minutes – before those gradually quieting screams got quieter and quieter until they tapered off into light whimpers.

She didn't stop until everything was silent, and she could feel Sofia's breath even out against her neck. Lying her on her back in the "big girl bed" – the frame and mattress that was only a foot and a half off the floor with crib-like walls that came up on three sides, leaving one side open so she could get herself out of bed in the morning – she stroked her hand out, wiping the dark hair off of her daughter's exhausted face.

Then she pulled her sleeve down over her hand and used it to lightly wipe the tears away, drying her face. She had been screaming and crying so hard for so long that she had broken the capillaries under her eyes, little red dots appearing.

Stroking her thumb over them, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

Sofia had always had tantrums at night, wanting her. And when she woke up in the morning, her favorite thing to do was to cuddle with Callie. Normally, she could sub in for Callie and Callie could calm her at night, but in the last few weeks, their daughter had been able to pick up on the added tension between them. Even mornings that Sofia stayed with her and woke up to no Mami were tougher than usual; she could barely imagine the nights her wife was dealing with here.

And god, she just wanted it to end.

With one last stroke down her daughter's cheek, she backed away from the bed. But before she left the room, she made sure to look around. It was painted lavender purple, with wallpaper trimming of cartoon animals, right under the ceiling. Her toys were organized, and the furniture set was all a dark mahogany. It was her daughter's other home. And this was the first time she had been inside.

Which made her just hurt, so she looked one last time at her sleeping face, before backing out into the hallway and leaving the door open just a crack, because she knew Sof liked to sleep with a slant of light coming in from the hallway.

But as she started walking down the hallway down to Callie, her footsteps faltered just a little bit with uncertainty. Clenching her hands tightly, she shook her head. She wasn't going to force Callie into conversation; she was going to wait until she was ready. Like Dr. Walker and Matt said, and like she knew was the right thing.

But her wife was still leaned against the door, her eyes closed, head tipped back. Arizona knew from the slight digging she did regularly that Callie had done a surgery today that had been twelve hours long. And to then end that day by taking a cranky, fussy Sofia home and dealing with that tantrum…

If they were married – not just technically, like they were right now – then Callie would have laid her head on Arizona's chest in bed, where they would both be scantily clothed. And she would have let the blonde's hands run through her hair while she just… rested. It was what Arizona wished they could do now.

Instead, she cleared her throat, making Callie's dark eyes open and look at her, "Thank you."

Her voice was raspy, and sent those shivers down Arizona's spine, "I'll always be here for Sof," … and you. She wanted to add that on, but she didn't know how well received it would be.

Her wife stood up slowly, pushing herself off the door as she looked at the ground, "These last few weeks have been really hard on her. And, um, it's not fair to her. I was going to ask you tomorrow if you wanted to get lunch and talk, but she sped up the process a little bit."

"You want to talk?" was that good or bad? What did this mean? Her heart started to beat a little harder in her chest.

Nodding, Callie bit her lip, "Yeah. I – not now. I'm just too exhausted. But tomorrow? I checked your schedule, and I saw that you're free at one. If you want to have lunch with me."

"Yes, definitely," she nodded quickly. Her fingers tapped against her thighs, and she couldn't stop herself from asking, "Is it… a good thing?"

The tiniest ghost of a smile played around those full lips, "Yeah, I mean, I think so. I've, uh, been seeing Dr. Walker a few times. And you're right, she is kind of great."

"And then I left," she finished, leaving out how she'd barely slept all night, as anticipation had kept her awake, "But the point is, Walker, you've been two timing me."

That same look was on her therapists face, "What I discuss with my other patients is confidential. I can't confirm nor deny that I've been working with Callie."

"But you have been," and Arizona knew it. And she knew that Dr. Walker hadn't led Callie in any direction to go to in their relationship and no matter what they had talked about, she'd just helped her wife clarify certain things, just like she did with her. Still, there was this part of her that couldn't help but feel grateful. Looking at the clock – seeing that it was nearly one – she pushed herself up, "Either way. Thank you."

"I still don't know what you're talking about. But I hope your talk with Callie goes well," Walker said as she started to leave her office, and Arizona turned to look at her quickly as she opened the door, and she swore there was an actual smile on her face.

Please let me know what you think! Thank you for all of the feedback so far, I appreciate it. Also, this story will be coming to an end within two or three chapters or so; it was originally planned to be short (maybe ten or eleven chapters) and that already didn't happen... haha. Thank you for reading!