Author's Note: I guess this'll be about the normal timeframe between chapters from now on. I'm on study leave at the moment, and then winter break, so I might be able to publish another chapter before it's over in mid-July, but no promises there. I really wish there were more hours in the day for me to write... Anyway, the thing with updating one chapter at a time, with such long intervals, is that I often feel the need to write brief commentary on how the narrative is going, just to kind of nudge readers back into the planned trajectory of the story.
We've established that the main conflicts are the "will they, won't they?" between Callie and Arizona and the impending move to Washington DC. The latter has huge implications for Calzona later on... like, it'll send them straight into a pretty big conflict. So watch out for what happens there. (By the way, a certain new character that pops up here will not impact Callie and Arizona the way Lauren did, she's there because I'm setting up a lighthearted plot point between her and Callie - don't worry about her, honestly.)
If you've still been reading and waiting on this sporadically updated fic, I salute you. Thanks so much for your support, feedback, and regular messages. You guys are awesome :)
"So I'm really glad that, uh, I'm - I mean - honoured to be standing here in front of you this evening," Callie glanced over the top of her cue cards. "When they first asked me to give this keynote, I wasn't sure what to say to, uh, a group of young people, who…" Sighing heavily, she lowered her cue cards. "Speeches are shit. It's why I'm in the news. I never have to talk about myself or what I've done or what I'm doing. And most of all, I don't even have to give advice or be inspiring!"
Arizona straightened up in her seat. "Hey, come on. You'll get there." It was two weeks until the CUNY Queens College's Association of Latin American Students' end-of-semester cocktail, so she'd spent almost every lunch break helping Callie' practise for it. The speech was very well-written. Really, it was her confidence that needed working on.
"I don't even know why they thought I was a good pick. I just read the news," Callie said.
"It's because they consider your story worthy enough to tell, because you've made it," Arizona said. "They wanna make it too. It's nice to see a flash forward into their futures."
Callie frowned. "These kids have worked hard their whole life and want to do something great. I just had rich parents so I could do anything I wanted. I was born lucky, and there's nothing inspiring about that."
"Well, all the money in the world and it still couldn't have been easy being a Latina television journalist for a cable news network. I mean, you're probably one of the most visible Latina on mainstream TV who isn't a character on Devious Maids," Arizona attempted to joke.
"God, I hate Devious Maids." Callie let out a shaky laugh. When Arizona started laughing with her, she broke down in giggles. She flopped into the chair across from Arizona's desk. "I'm sorry," she said breathily. "I've been highly strung, haven't I?"
"Yeah, you have been," Arizona agreed, but not without fondness. She remembered when Callie would pace around their apartment for hours on end as she wrote copy for big, important stories. They were both new in the industry then, and they lived in perpetual fear that they wouldn't be cut out for it. But here they were now. "You're a very talented journalist, Callie. You weren't picked to host The Eight O'Clock Breakdown because your parents' money. You did the hard yards, and that's what they want to hear."
Callie relaxed a little at that. Her eyes held Arizona's for a few seconds, before saying, "People forget that talking about something so personal is way harder than it looks."
"It's always easy until they're the ones who have to do it," Arizona said. Realising what she just said, she broke off eye contact with Callie and turned her attention to her laptop screen. However, she could still feel Callie staring hard at her. She chewed the inside of her cheek and willed herself to look the other woman in the eye again. "Callie -" she began to say.
But Callie's gaze was now fixed to her cue cards. "Let's start from the top," she said. She got to her feet and cleared her throat. "Good evening to you all. As you now know from the introduction, I'm Callie Torres, and I currently work as a news anchor for Harper Avery News and Current Affairs." Not once did she look up.
Out in the bullpen, three APs are crowded around Cristina's desk eating Chinese takeout out of the box while jabbing buttons on their laptops. "I can't believe that Owen thought it was a good idea to spend a block on the 'polar vortex'," Meredith said.
"Well, I can't believe that Arizona thought that it was a better idea to go out and do a story on people being affected by the polar vortex," Alex said. "It's freezing, we all gotta turn our heaters up and put another pair of longjohns on. There's your story."
Cristina, however, had her attention on something else. A few yards away from her desk was Arizona's office window. The blinds were drawn, so the blonde executive producer slouching in her seat and the dark-haired anchor pacing in front of her were clearly visible. She noticed that Arizona was watching Callie intently. Perhaps a little too intently. "They do know that we can see everything that they're doing, right?" she asked.
Alex followed her sight line. "Maybe it's because they have nothing to hide."
"Or so they think," Cristina said.
"I always wonder if those two would get back together." Meredith was watching them now, too. "They still seem to like each other a lot."
"Or maybe they're just friends." Alex was scowling. "Can we go one day without talking about someone else's personal life?" He shut his laptop lid and tucked the machine under his arm. "I need to go call some affiliates to film some footage," he said. "The way things are going, I'm probably gonna have to get this story myself." He walked off without another word.
"Do you think we hit a nerve?" Meredith asked Cristina, though Cristina knew she wasn't all that worried. Alex was never not cranky about something, and though it was better not to ask, it was fun for them when they did.
"Nah."
Catherine Avery knew that her father was not happy. He had not been happy since the Saturday of the Thanksgiving weekend, when Catherine had revealed what she planned to do with the space that will be cleared out once the eight and the nine shift to DC.
At first he was just annoyed. But when he found out that Richard Webber wasn't clued in either, he became angry. This was why they were sitting in one of the boardrooms on the Harper Avery Media Tower's executive floor, waiting for the arrival of HANCA's president.
"You wouldn't have told Webber about this until the very last second if you had gotten away with it," Harper Avery said. "You probably wouldn't have told anyone about it if Louise didn't press on about it."
True, she had omitted a few details when she had assigned the operations team - more specifically, Jackson - to evaluate the eight and the nine, but she wouldn't have kept it a secret for too long. "Well, I aim to please you, Dad," Catherine said. "I thought that it would be a surprise. Like a birthday gift." Her dry tone earned her a glare from her father.
"You must know that I am still against what you're trying to do here. This is a media establishment, first and foremost, not a corporation, and certainly not a vehicle for politics."
"I know." Catherine snorted softly, though she knew it was unbecoming for a woman in her position. Her father built the company, she's the one modernising it. She didn't believe that she was deviating from the company values she was entrusted to maintain. "But come on, Dad. This is what Marcus Avery envisioned. He wanted to give our people a platform, and now we're in more of a position than ever to do just that," she said.
Harper raised a disapproving hand. "Catherine, please don't use your grandfather's name in vain. And besides, this platform has become universal now, you and I know that. We're not just for 'our people' anymore. Hell, I don't even think we have a black news anchor."
"I don't make those hiring decisions, you know that."
"Well, what you're planning to do seems a bit drastic. Why don't you just try finding a black news anchor?" A noise at the door made him look up. "Ah, Richard is here. Come in, sit down." He gestured widely at the large amount of empty seats at the grand oak table.
Webber chose to sit on Harper's left, directly across from Catherine. "This feels very… intimate," he said. "Is everything all right?"
Harper turned to his daughter. "Catherine, you called this meeting."
Webber watched the two Averies warily. "Have I screwed something up?"
"Oh no, it's not that, Richard, it really isn't," Catherine said. She clasped her hands together and placed them on top of the table. "I just haven't been completely forthcoming with you regarding transferring the eight and the nine to DC. First of all, it would be a lot more cost-effective to run the two shows down there than in New York -"
"Jackson has told me that," Webber interrupted.
"That's not all," Catherine said. "We're planning to use that floor for something else." She noticed Webber waiting for her to continue. "Have you heard of a gentleman named Randall Howlett?"
"Yeah, didn't he run for Congress for the Dems in 2012 but lost out to a GOP candidate?" Webber asked. "What about him?" Then, he didn't bother waiting for a reply. "Hang on. Don't tell me you're giving him airtime."
Catherine decided to come right out with it: "We're planning an early afternoon slot."
"Seriously? I heard somewhere that he's planning to run again in 2016. Won't that be putting HANCA in a potentially compromising position? We're a news organisation, he's publicly partisan."
"Randall wants to use our airtime to reach a wider constituency," Catherine said. "It's going to be a half-hour show where he talks about the biggest issues that black people are facing today, and what black voters should consider when trying to pick a candidate to vote for."
"Oh, so we're helping him run his campaign now," Webber said in disbelief. "I'm not so sure that this is a good idea, Catherine. And I'm not pleased that you didn't consult me. I'm the president of the news division. I should have some say in who we're giving airtime to on the news network."
"Randall is willing to put a lot of money to have this opportunity."
"And by the fact that you're eager to boot some of our best staff to DC just so he can avail of our resources, it's all a done deal," Webber said.
"Not quite," Catherine said. "We just need to put it all in writing."
"Catherine, as president of HANCA, I should have some authority to declare this as a conflict of interest and a violation of our values," Webber insisted. He knew he sounded a little bit desperate and he didn't enjoy it.
Catherine Avery tilted her chin regally. "And as CEO of Harper Avery Media, I have the authority to override yours," she declared.
Webber looked at the elder Avery. "You're okay with this, Harper?"
"I'm not sold on the idea, but I know that this is out of my hands now. I didn't put Catherine in charge of this company for nothing, and I certainly don't want to override what she wants to do, even if I may disagree with it," the old man said. Catherine knew that he was putting on a front of civil diplomacy for Webber. He hated the idea, and he'd tell anyone who'd listen, as long as they were an Avery. There was nothing more unbecoming in a family-owned corporation than airing your grievances in front of someone who wasn't a relative. "This will still have to be taken to the board, of course," Harper continued. "But honestly, I don't see them saying no. Sorry, Richard."
Webber trained his gaze on Catherine. A new fire burned in his eyes. "If it has to come down to a vote, then the board will have to listen to the news division's opinion about this, too, then," he said. "You'd let me have that, won't you?"
"Of course, Richard," Catherine replied, her voice taking on a sweet, poisonous tone. "That's only fair. But you know that things are going to be moving really fast from now on. Randall wants everything set up ideally by late January so he could go on air by February."
Richard scoffed. "Sure, I'll try to factor in what Randall Howlett wants in my argument. Thanks for telling me that."
A stack of manila folders sat on the edge of the coffee table in Webber's Upper East Side apartment. On the front of each folder was a white sticker label with a name written neatly in block print. MARCUS SLOAN. CALLIOPE TORRES. DEREK SHEPHERD. And there were about a dozen of them. Webber combed through every employment contract tucked into each folder. He only dared to smile when he knew he had something.
He checked the time and picked up his mobile phone. It was twelve-thirty. He knew that a man his age should be sleeping by now, so he resolved to keep it brief. Scrolling through his phone's contacts, he took a deep breath before pressing a name. He held the phone to his ear. Someone should pick up, he thought anxiously. It was only nine-thirty in Los Angeles.
"Hello?" a voice said on the other line.
"Hello! It's Richard." His heart was beating so fast. "I need your help. Employment dispute. Can you fly out to New York by tomorrow?"
"How bad is it?"
"It's a Catherine Avery-sized problem." He knew this person was up for a challenge.
Someone's breath caught on the other end of the line. "I'll be on the first flight tomorrow morning," they said. "I should be in your office by five o'clock."
"No, don't come into the tower. I don't want anyone to know yet," Richard said. "My apartment's a better place. I'll tell my doorman to let you in." He gave them his address. "Thank you for doing this. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up.
He'd have to do a bit of lying for the next day or so, until they've ironed the wrinkles out. One does not hint at having battle strategies against Catherine Avery.
Eggs and bacon were smells that Arizona had not woken up to in a very long time. She got out of bed, found a discarded t-shirt and some shorts on the floor, and walked out of her bedroom. She found Lauren, dressed in a thin tank top and yoga pants, keeping watch over a frying pan in the kitchen. "Morning," she said.
Lauren looked at her and grinned. "Morning." She took a mug out of one of the cupboards and poured coffee from the machine. "Sit down. This should be ready in a minute." She held the mug out to Arizona.
Arizona walked over to her, took the coffee, then leaned closer for a quick kiss. "Normally, I'd be pissed off at waking up alone in the morning, especially when I know perfectly well that I didn't go to bed alone."
"So, this is a nice way to defuse you, then?"
"Hmm." Arizona kissed her again, for longer this time. "Yeah, I feel properly defused," she said as she pulled away. She took a seat at the small dining table, where Lauren had laid out the sugar, cream and milk. "Wow, I didn't even know that I had this stuff in here." Arizona wasn't one to admit that she was a workaholic, but then she knew that the fact that she doesn't remember the last time she went grocery shopping might suggest otherwise.
"I had to run out and get milk and eggs," Lauren admitted.
"In that?" Arizona nodded at Lauren's outfit. She had gone without a bra, and her nipples were starkly visible through the tight fabric of her top.
"You kidding? It's fifty degrees outside!" Lauren laughed, then said, "I put a coat and my furry boots on over this. Don't shoot me."
"Oh, I'll try not to!"
Lauren turned her attention back on the food. "By the way, I think the toast is gonna be a little stale. I don't know how long you've had the bread I found in the fridge for, but it wasn't mouldy so I just assumed it was good to eat."
Arizona vaguely recalled stopping by at a convenience store a few nights ago to get that bread, after she had skipped dinner at the newsroom. "Yeah, I think it's safe," she said. She watched as Lauren turn the stove off, place a piece of toast on each plate, and then put eggs and bacon rashers on top of the toast.
The taller blonde approached the table, a plate in each hand, and laid one down in front of Arizona, before sitting down across from her. "Breakfast," she adjusted her seat, "is served."
"Wonder woman," Arizona said. "I thought you'd be rushing off to work by now."
"I have the day off today," Lauren told her, in between bites of toast. "And you have to be at the office much later than I do, so I thought I'd treat you for breakfast. Nothing gets you going in the morning than eggs and bacon."
"Can't disagree with that." Arizona recalled the times when she was living in DC. She'd been kissed awake by Callie, who would then beckon her into their dining room to enjoy eggs and bacon. And then she stopped herself. Why was she thinking about Callie? Why was breakfast food making her think about Callie? She trained her focus back on the woman sitting opposite her. "Are you coming over tonight?" she asked, just because she couldn't find anything else to say.
Lauren smirked. "Why? Don't you want me to?"
"No, no…" Arizona began to stammer. It was unusual when women turned the tables on her and caught her off guard. Not necessarily bad, but just not what she was accustomed to. "Of course I do… I was just curious."
"Arizona," Lauren said firmly. "Relax. I'd love to come over, but I can't tonight. I have a function to go to." She stopped. "You know, that reminds me, I've got one coming up and I'll need a date."
"Uh, is that your way of asking? Because it's so not romantic."
Lauren paused to consider. "You're right." She put her fork down and took Arizona's hand in both of hers. "Arizona Robbins, would you like to come as my date to this function I must attend?"
Arizona laughed and snatched her hand away. "What function is this?"
"It's an end-of-semester gala thing the Association of Latin American Students at CUNY," Lauren replied. "They invite someone from my work every year and this year I got the lucky draw. I heard it'll be a buffet," she offered.
"CUNY?" Arizona straightened up in her seat. "Their Queens campus?"
"Yeah. You know about it?" Lauren asked. She glanced down at her plate for a second then back up at Arizona. She must have noticed that the details registered in her mind. "'Course you would," she said slowly. "Callie Torres is giving the keynote address, and you work with her… and all."
Arizona couldn't help but noticing the ambiguous ending, but decided not to ask what it was supposed to mean. Asking would just bring the battle in her head out into the world. Regardless of Lauren's answer - perhaps she meant it differently than Arizona's guilty conscience inferred - would permit the battle to be defined and validated.
No, that can't happen. It was already hard enough fighting herself.
And so she grinned, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "I'd love to come with you."
"... and for those of you who aren't sure if you're on the right track, well, let me tell you, where you are now seems a pretty great place to start. Thank you, and enjoy the rest of your evening." Callie lowered her cue cards and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Woohoo! That's awesome! You didn't even stutter." Arizona clapped slowly.
"What's my time like?"
Arizona read her phone screen. "You're going great. Fourteen minutes and forty-two seconds," she said. "And your eye contact is so much better this time around. You're going to be super duper ready."
"Super duper." Callie couldn't resist giggling. Arizona was by far one of the most intense, focused, and at times, genuinely terrifying people she knew, yet she talked like a kindergarten teacher. Or a pediatric nurse. But then again, those people were intense, focused and at times, genuinely terrifying anyway.
"Think of it as a pep talk," Arizona said.
Callie took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something?"
Arizona froze. "Sure…"
"I have a plus-one for this event, and I was thinking of asking you to come with me," Callie said. "It's not like a date or anything," she shook her head vigorously, "I just thought saying this speech would be a lot easier if I pretended that I was only saying it to you."
"Oh, Callie." Arizona's face was screwed up in some emotion that Callie couldn't figure out. "That's nice of you to ask, but I'm actually already going. Lauren's going for work and she invited me."
"Th-that's, well… That's great! I won't have to do without you after all!" Callie was half-relieved and half-pissed off. She thought that Lauren seemed good for Arizona, from what little she saw of them, but that didn't mean that she enjoyed the thought of seeing them together for an entire evening.
"If Lauren hadn't asked me, I would have said yes to you anyway. For moral support, you know?" It was surprising - and confusing - that Arizona appeared as uncomfortable as Callie felt. "Funny how things just work out, huh?"
"Yeah," Callie said. "Funny that."
It was an hour and a half until they were due on air, so Mark and Callie ate their dinner while editing scripts over Callie's desk. "Webber has been quiet lately," Callie told Mark, who, as usual, had gotten his own way and assumed the seat behind the desk.
"Well, I sweet-talked Patricia," Mark waved dismissively at Callie's incredulous expression, "and found out that he met with Harper and Catherine Avery today, so he probably won't be quiet for long."
Callie sighed. "If we have to transfer to DC, I don't think I'll go," she said. "My agent negotiates my contracts yearly so it's not that hard for me to not renew it in time for 2014. I like New York way too much to leave." Even when she grew up as a wealthy girl in Miami, New York had been calling out for Callie. Miami was too hot, too sprawling, too nouveau riche. New York was the battleground where everyone got down on the mud to wrestle for their dreams. Aside from her stint as White House Correspondent, New York had been her home since college. There was more New Yorker in her than there was anything else.
"If we're being honest here, I kinda wanna do the same thing," Mark said. "And I don't know, stay here and get a job at a law firm or something. I still have my license."
"Seriously? Like any of the law firms in the city would take you seriously. They probably dream about eating your pretty boy primetime face for lunch."
Mark laughed. "I'd like to see them try," he said. "If not New York, Boston maybe. Chicago at a stretch. DC's just not my thing. It's a dirty city. All grim black suits and secrets and political intrigue. And not all of our staff would be able to make it down, and I don't think I can put up with dealing with a new staff."
"You don't have to deal with the staff all that much, Mark," Callie reminded him.
"I know, but Owen and Teddy do, and when they think the staff are idiots, they're always in bad moods. I don't want that," Mark said. He didn't like getting involved in boosting staff morale. He saw that as a role for the producers to do. "We've got a good thing going here. I don't see why the people upstairs don't want to see that."
"We're supposed to be doing some great, wonderful, noble thing," Callie said. "Don't you think it's a little selfish of us to want to jump ship?"
"Sometimes we're allowed to act in our own self-interest." Mark shrugged. "Great things don't stay great forever." The computer on Callie's desk beeped. Mark took the liberty of leaning over to check it. "Oh, speak of the devil," he said. "It's an email from Webber. He wants us to meet him at Pot of Gold for breakfast tomorrow." He raised an eyebrow. "Do we really have to keep using that place forever?"
"You're the last person I would think to have a problem with using a lesbian café as a secret rendezvous location," Callie said.
Mark smirked. "It didn't meet my expectations."
"Oh, Sloan, stop being such a dude. No one digs that," Callie said. "Anyway, if he want us to meet there, then it has to be important."
The next morning, Arizona was having a cup of coffee and a muffin at Pot of Gold. Bailey and Teddy were still fussing over the choices at the store cupboard, while Mark and Callie were waiting in line for coffee. Derek and Owen were already seated, poring over the business section together while they sipped their coffees.
In about ten minutes' time, everyone was at the table with their food and drink. They ate and chatted while waiting for Webber. At one point, Bailey looked over Derek's shoulder. "He's here," she announced. "And somebody's with him."
The journalists facing away from the entrance turned around to see Webber's companion. Webber himself was dressed well with a blue shirt and a moss green tweed blazer under his grey coat, but the woman walking beside him was something else. In a navy suit, heeled boots, and an enviably tailored black wool overcoat, this woman was tall, with wavy black hair and sharp blue eyes. There was something familiar about her. Arizona couldn't put her finger on it until Mark, Derek and Callie spoke all at once.
"Amelia?"
"Amy?"
"Millie?"
The odd pair reached the table. Before Mark, Derek or Callie could say something else, Webber cut to the chase. "Good morning everyone," he said. "This is Amelia Shepherd. She'll be helping us out." He pulled a chair out for her. "Amelia, take a seat. I think you'd do a better introduction of yourself than I would."
"All right, Richard." Amelia regarded the whole table. "I'm a lawyer based in LA, but Richard got in touch me, said you needed my help. So here I am." She acknowledge the stares some of the journalist were giving her. "Yes, I am Derek's little sister, and I've had the misfortune of growing up alongside Mark."
"Hey, Amy, don't be like that," Mark said. "I've known her since she was in nappies."
There were some chuckles around the table. It seems like no one but Arizona saw that Callie had reacted unusually to Amelia's arrival. Arizona glanced over at Callie's end of the table and saw that she was now trying to shrink into her seat, her expression somewhere between horror and nausea.
"Amelia and I want to tell you about the plan we came up with," Richard said. "But first I have to tell you why Catherine Avery wants this to happen. And you have to not tell anyone. Not even your APs. Catherine can't know that you know." When he was sure that everyone understood, he launched into a recount of his meeting with the Averies. He told them about Randall Howlett, he told them about the fate of their newsroom.
Arizona was the first to speak at the end of it all. "Wow, I should not have left the BBC." That was not to say that the BBC didn't have its share of power hungry, politics-playing suits, but in her years of working there, she doubted that the BBC would have considered giving airtime to anybody who was distinctly and outspokenly aligned with a political party only because they were waving a tonne of money around.
"Catherine Avery does understand that part of being a news organisation is that we're supposed to be objective, right?" Owen asked. "Or is she taking a leaf out of Rupert Murdoch's book?"
"Now, now, objectivity is relative," Teddy said. "Fox News can get away with what they get away with because they claim freedom of speech. I think what you're trying to say is that news organisations can't show partisanship."
"But," Bailey cut in, "a lot of famous news anchors publicly donate millions and set up PACs and SuperPACs to support a candidate of their choice. No one ever calls it out as a conflict of interest. I'm not saying I support them or anything, but news organisations have been getting away with this for years."
"Just in this country, I suppose," Teddy said. "It probably all goes back to the First Amendment, and everyone knows that nobody should be freer than the media."
"Well, this country's logic is fucked up," Mark muttered. He immediately raised his eyes to meet Webber's. "Pardon my language, Chief."
Derek inched forward in his seat. "So, what's Amy helping us with?"
"My specialty is in media law, but Richard and I were hoping to execute a strategy using your contracts," Amelia said. "The renewal period should be soon, yes?"
The journalists nodded.
"You know, the best part of being a huge division in such a huge corporation? HANCA has its own HR department. Your contracts are negotiated between Harper Avery Media and yourself - or for the anchors, your agents. However, because of the sheer size of the company, HANCA HR department has very little contact with the main Harper Avery Media department, which means HR, most of the time, reports to me. And the people upstairs don't give a toss," Richard explained. "Yesterday I took the liberty or reminding them of renewal period, and they're drawing up new contracts as we speak."
"What's different about these contracts?" Mark asked.
"Nothing." For some reason unknown to everyone, there was a huge grin on Webber's face.
"And how's that supposed to help our newsroom from becoming campaign headquarters for the Democrats?"
"There are two specific clauses in your current contracts that we want to take advantage of," Amelia started. "The first says that the contract is only valid in New York. The second says that any revisions to the clauses that involve remuneration, a change of location or pretty much any factor that would require you to make a major life change can only happen after six months of the contract being signed."
The grin did not fade off Webber's face as he picked up where Amelia had left off: "If we get you to sign the new contracts ASAP, and under the radar from Catherine, we can tell the board that trying to finalise the move to DC by the end of this year would mean violating this contract."
"The clauses on our old contracts don't apply?" Arizona asked.
"Since it's renewal period anyway, Catherine would just say she'd get her people to write the new ones, probably with Washington DC replacing New York in that clause. That way she can rush you down there, tough luck to those who can't make it, and it's above board, too," Amelia replied. "Legal loophole."
"That's fucked."
Webber glared at Mark. "Sloan, I swear," he said.
"Wait, what's the point of doing all this if the best-case scenario is that it's just gonna buy us another six months?" Arizona asked.
"It means we have another six months to tell the board why giving Randall Howlett airtime is not in Harper Avery Media's best interests," Webber replied.
"We're sure this is going to work?" Derek asked.
"Well, big brother, we're gonna have to try it," Amelia said. The same cocky Shepherd smile was on her face.
The younger Shepherd fascinated Arizona. She checked on Callie again. The news anchor was staring down at her plate, playing with her food like a kid in elementary school. Conversation moved from the contracts to less serious matters, like sports and LA and the upcoming Christmas holiday. When everyone finally disbanded to start heading back to the office, Arizona noticed that Callie didn't even bother waiting for Mark. She just bolted out of there.
"These kids go to school in Queens?" Mark surveyed the young people walking around the hotel ballroom, many of them in suits that were too big and excessively styled hairdos. "They don't look any different from the kids I went to school with. Except they're Latino. But you're Latino."
"Mark, shut up, you're in public," Callie said. "These kids have Twitter or Facebook or something. Bitch about them and you're going to be frontpage news tomorrow." Because Arizona was already going as someone else's plus-one, Callie decided to take Mark instead. She regretted it. She should have picked a safer option, like Owen or Teddy.
Her speech had gone well. Better than she expected. She stumbled over the tricky parts once or twice but she recovered easily. Callie had not estimated how much confidence standing in a room full of Latino kids, most of whom have grown up without her privilege, hanging onto her every word. She felt trusted and worthy enough to give these kids' advice - and this was saying something; being good at her job hinged on her being trusted and worthy of what she was telling her audience. This was different. For once, Callie felt like a proper role model.
Having Arizona clearly visible in the audience, wearing a muted red cocktail dress, with her hair straightened and her makeup perfectly applied, probably helped too. When she had trouble saying the words, all Callie had to do was seek her out. Arizona didn't stop smiling at her the whole time. She didn't even take notice of Lauren Boswell, who was wearing the only emerald green dress in the ballroom.
Callie scowled in the middle of her thoughts. She scanned the crowd trying to find the two blondes again. And then her lips twisted into a smirk. Green and red made them look like a Christmas tree. She thought herself as happy for Arizona, but that didn't mean her new girlfriend couldn't be a source of amusement..
"I have to say," Mark said in between bites of vegetables, "the food is really good."
"Yeah? Don't talk when your mouth is full," Callie said under her breath. "Good god, Mark, you really wanna end up on the internet, don't you?" Even in his $3000 bespoke evening suit and $150 haircut, Mark enjoyed acting like an uncouth teenage boy.
"Don't think there's anything I've done that the internet doesn't already know about, short of a sex tape." Mark swallowed his food. He nodded in a vague direction. "Incoming," he said in a lower voice.
"What?"
"Arizona and her lawyerly lady lover."
Callie composed herself, adjusted her dress and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. When she turned around with a smile on her face, Arizona and Lauren were only a few steps away from her.
Mark stood up and assisted her by offering a hand. He addressed Arizona and Lauren: "Hey, ladies."
"Callie." Beaming, Arizona stepped forward and held one of Callie's wrists in each hand. "I'm so proud of you. You did so well!"
"Thanks." Callie pulled her wrists away. "I couldn't have done it without you."
Arizona turned to her date, who had a confused expression on her face. "Callie let me listen to her speech, for practice, you know?" she explained. "Tonight was definitely her best delivery, of course."
"It was very inspirational," Lauren said.
A terse silence fell over them as they stared at each other awkwardly. Callie couldn't read the expressions on either Arizona's or Lauren's faces. She tugged on Mark's hand for help.
"Hey, let's go dance, Callie!" Mark exclaimed. He placed an arm around Callie's shoulders and led her away. When he was sure that they were out of earshot, he bent his head slightly by Callie's ear: "Now what was that about?"
"I- I don't know."
Mark rested his hands on Callie's waist, and Callie placed hers on Mark's shoulders. They were close enough to be able to talk quietly, but they didn't. They didn't say a word for two songs. "I thought Lauren was plotting to claw your eyes out or something back there," he said, over the first bars of the third song.
"Contrary to popular belief, women are not that petty," Callie said, rolling her eyes. In retrospect, Lauren did not look pleased, and most likely had not known that her girlfriend was hanging out with Callie, practising speeches and whatnot, but she didn't look displeased either. "Lauren's fine with it." She said this not for Mark, but for herself.
"Fine with what?" Mark asked. "The fact that her girlfriend has been working quite closely with her ex-girlfriend, who, by the way, is still into her?"
"What?!" Callie attempted to laugh. "I'm not into -, I'm over -," she caught Mark's expression, "I'm getting over Arizona."
"It's all right, Cal," Mark said distractedly. "If she's the one you're trying to convince, you should put a better poker face on, because the one you have right now isn't convincing anybody."
Callie's eyebrows furrowed. "Why's that?"
"She's been watching us and now she's heading over here," Mark said.
"Don't be fucking with me, Sloan," Callie growled. She wanted to run away, hide somewhere where she can't be seen to collect her thoughts. Tonight was a strange night. She spoke in public without wanting to vomit, yet felt the same urges when being told she was about to be approached by a beautiful woman.
Mark's hands kept a firm, yet comforting, hold on her. "Relax, all right? I doubt she's going to declare her eternal love for you, but she wouldn't be asking you to dance if she didn't care about you."
Callie's heart was in her throat, and she was trying very hard to keep her voice from wavering. "Maybe she's just being chivalrous?"
"Isn't chivalry dead?"
"You'd be surprised at how much lady-loving ladies have contributed to the survival of chivalry."
"She's almost here," Mark whispered.
And sure enough, seconds later, Arizona's hand was on Mark's arm. "Hey there, Mark," she said. "I don't want to be that person who asks the guy if I could dance with his girl, so can you just bear with me for a sec…" She pushed Mark over to the side a little bit, enough so his hands just about slipped from Callie's waist, and Callie's hands almost lost their position on his shoulders. "Callie," Arizona said.
Callie made an effort to stay cool and look at Arizona. The blonde had a subtle smile on her face, one she couldn't help matching. She cleared her throat gently, convinced that if she'd done it with a bit more force, she would have thrown up all over Mark. "Yes?"
"May I have the honour of dancing with you?"
"Well, that's me for tonight." Mark stepped back and smoothed out the shoulders of his suit jacket. He gave Callie a reassuring nod before heading back towards the tables.
Callie felt Arizona's arms rest on her shoulders. Automatically, she reached for Arizona's waist. They had done this a thousand times before. They were inches apart, closer than how she and Mark stood there a while ago, but still not touching. Callie could feel her body wishing they would, and she had to will herself not to give in.
Arizona began to chuckle. Callie got out of her head enough to realise it was because of the song that had just come on over the speakers. A slow, piano rock ballad that was sure to have violins in it as some point.
"Fuck, I hate this song," Callie said with a laugh.
Around them, more and more couples joined the dance floor. "The students don't, so don't crush their spirit," Arizona said playfully. Into the first verse, she stepped closer to Callie so that their bodies were touching. "I meant what I said, Calliope. You did great tonight. I couldn't be any more proud."
Callie could feel Arizona resting her chin on her shoulder, and the softness of Arizona's hair brushing her cheek. They were chest to chest now, and she hoped that her heart was not beating too fast or too hard that the other woman could feel it. They had done this a thousand times before, but this time still felt like the first.
She had told Lauren that she just wanted to congratulate Callie. That she would come back and dance with Lauren after a song or two. But now that she was in Callie's arms, she didn't feel like going back there again.
Callie was still a wonderful dancer. When they lived in DC, they always talked about going dancing but their schedules meant that they rarely found the time. Arizona used to play songs over on their stereo system and they'd dance together after work. Mostly to unwind, but especially just because they could. She had to admit that there was a special pleasure in dancing publicly. It was a way to affirm that they were a part of this world, and though they don't need other people to validate that for them, it was a good feeling to occupy that space.
Arizona used to be confused about why she couldn't stop thinking about Callie. She thought that it was because she hadn't seen her in ten years, then suddenly they were working in the same newsroom. Or that it was because she couldn't form a group of work friends without including Callie in it somehow, and that she was still adjusting herself on how best to tackle that. Or that Callie had been acting weird towards her and she couldn't help but dissecting every little interaction they've had. But these weren't reasons; they were excuses.
The real reason she couldn't stop thinking about Callie was -
Anywhere I would've followed you… Arizona pulled her head back to look into Callie's deep brown eyes. Say something, I'm giving up on you. Should she? Saying something would change everything. She opened her mouth…
"You wanna tell me what's going on with you and Amelia Shepherd?"
She wasn't sure if she wanted everything to change just yet.
She could feel Callie's shoulders tense beneath her arms. For a moment, she thought that the taller woman was going to pull away and make a break for it, but unexpectedly, they began relaxing again.
"I knew her a very, very long time ago."
The answer was unclear but Arizona was certain what she meant. She couldn't help but teasingly ask, "Oh, how messy did it get? Does Derek know?"
"Derek doesn't know anything and I'd prefer to keep it that way," Callie said. "And as for your first question, I just have to say, it was short, sweet and… amicable."
"All right, I'll stop asking questions."
"Good."
They inched closer to each other until they were touching once more. Callie had pulled her in closer by fully wrapping her arms around Arizona. She didn't resist. Instead, breathed in the smell of the skin on Callie's neck. She closed her eyes and let Callie's arms guide her around the dance floor. She couldn't remember a time when she had ever felt so honestly close with another person. There was so much to say, so much to talk about, and so much that she was afraid of.
As their second song faded out, she lightly shook herself out of Callie's arms. She lifted herself out of her heels, on her tiptoes, to kiss the taller woman on the forehead. "Thanks for that," she whispered.
Callie opened her eyes slowly. "No, thank you," she responded.
When Arizona got back to her table, Lauren was standing by her chair. She was holding two glasses of wine, and handed one to Arizona. "Can we go somewhere quiet?" she asked.
Arizona's stomach dropped. Lauren started making her way out of the ballroom, drink in hand, and Arizona had no choice but to follow her. She didn't know if Lauren had seen her and Callie on the dance floor. It could be about anything. Arizona paused. She needed to get real. Of course, whatever Lauren had on her mind, it was going to have something to do with Callie.
They found an empty corner in the ballroom foyer, just next to the coatroom. Arizona downed her drink in one go and set the glass on the unmanned coat check desk. She roughly wiped her mouth on her hand, not even caring that her lipstick might get smudged. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked.
"How did you know I wanted to talk?" Lauren, on the other hand, sipped her drink slowly.
"Just by your tone, you know." Arizona shrugged.
Lauren's hand reached out and pushed a lock of hair back from Arizona's face. "Look, Arizona," she said, "we need to stop lying to ourselves."
"What do you mean?"
"I know about you and Callie Torres," Lauren said. "Well, like, I know you two aren't anything. But you used to be, a long time ago."
"That's exactly it!" Arizona jumped in. "It was a long ti -"
"No, I wasn't finished," Lauren interrupted. "You two were something a long time ago, but I know that you still feel something there, and the feeling is mutual. You two are still holding out hope to be something again."
"Lauren."
"Arizona, it's obvious to everyone, okay? Everyone on that dance floor would have thought that it was you she took, and not Mark Sloan. That you came here with her, and not with me." Lauren sighed. "Look, we had a great run, all right? It wasn't long, and I don't wanna make it any longer. Not when it's like this."
"Lauren, no, I swear, it's nothing!" Arizona insisted.
"You are lying to me, right now. I was lying to myself," Lauren said. "I like you. Really, I do. But... we're not built to last." She cupped Arizona's face gently. "I'm telling myself that I'm doing this because I want you to sort your shit out. Like, I don't go for women who are hung up on other women."
"And what's the real reason?"
"If I'm being honest, I don't want to get in the way of who you really want." Lauren shook her head. "Because come on, we both know that's not me. I can't be your distraction forever, Arizona."
Arizona lowered her head to avert eye contact. "I'm sorry."
"I know," Lauren said. "It's not like you didn't try. I thank you for that, honest. But seeing you out there tonight?" She smiled ruefully. "I'm not too hurt about it at the moment, but I knew if we had kept on, I had to accept the fact that if Callie came knocking, you'd leave me without thinking twice. I just couldn't do it. If you did that, it would really break my heart."
That part was true, and Arizona hated to agree with her. "So we're over."
"I guess we are," Lauren said. "Hey, I had a great time. You weren't a bad girlfriend."
But I'd be terrible beyond that, Arizona thought. "I just wanna get out of here right now," she told Lauren.
"Me too," Lauren said. "Stay here and wait for me, if you don't want to go back in there. I'll just go in to say my goodbyes, then we'll grab our coats and go. I'll get the car to take you back to your apartment."
"Thank you, Lauren," Arizona said. "For everything."
Lauren's hand rested on the ballroom door handle. "Do me a favour and sort things out with Callie," she told Arizona. "You deserve to be happy. Or you deserve some closure that's way better than whatever screwed up deal you two decided to work out to avoid dealing with it properly, at least."
"Hey, how'd you figure that out?"
"Wasn't that hard. You're living in a state of denial. It's time to get over that and face the music." Lauren finished the rest of her drink, took a moment to collect herself, and opened the ballroom door. "I'll see you in five minutes." She went inside, and left Arizona leaning on the coat check desk, alone with her thoughts.
Author's postscript: I've read several fanfics where it was Arizona who had a past with Amelia Shepherd. Turning the tables on this one, but I promise it's not going to be the tortured love triangle. I've got some fun plans in store... Thanks for reading and see you real soon.