A/N: Hey guys! Just a heads up, this is a more low key chapter.

Stephanie - She grew up with the name Arizona and learned how to play dirty on the playground. She's protecting the woman she loves. BAMF! :)

Logan - I love you and your reviews too!

BL - I also love it when Arizona hits people, she's always so calm and collected, I love to see her lash out.

Pammie - I like both your theories and philosophy. :)

Also, thank you so much Aimee! You know what you did, hopefully one day soon these lovely people will get to see it too! Enjoy guys!

He got her back to the apartment. He had been waiting for her to break down, though he never thought the catalyst would be a reason like this. His eyes made a quick sweep; everything seemed to be in its place. Except there was no Callie. The bedroom door was ajar and Mark wasn't sure whether to steer her in that directions or towards the couch. "Go look."

"Sorry?"

"Go look, in the bedroom," Arizona choked, hugging herself, trying to prevent the tears from falling. It wasn't doing any good.

He moved away from her, slowly opening the door .There was a completely different atmosphere in this room. Clothing and personal belongings were strewn across the floor, dresser drawers were hanging open, one of the closet doors was hanging open with a pile of stuff laying before it. He didn't linger, even though he'd seen most of Callie's belongings before. The air was what stood out to him the most though. They had obviously fought in here. The left over tension was so strong it set his teeth on edge. He could feel despair, frustration, and a lingering resentment. He shut the door, containing the tension and providing a barrier for Arizona. Keeping his body turned away, he looked over at her. She looked pathetic. Her face was blurred with tears. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and similarly she clung to herself. She was stiff.

"Arizona," he said softly. "What happened?"

"She got up…no," she thought. "She told me that she would be better off dead."

Panic shot through Mark's heart.

"But it was calm. She wasn't saying that she wanted to be dead. She was just saying that it would be better than dealing with everything she was dealing with, the repercussions of what had happened to her. Then she got up and went into the bedroom. I sat here for a minute or two, well, more like five. She packed; she told me she was leaving. I followed her to the elevator. In the elevator she said that she couldn't get over it here. That she couldn't believe," she was beginning to cry again, "that she couldn't believe she trusted me to protect her. That I lied to her."

"Did she snap?"

"No," Arizona shook her head. "It was calm, rational."

"But after what happened today…" Mark trailed off. At Arizona's confused expression he added, "Bailey told me. I saw you two leaving."

"She was numb, stoic. Expressionless. I had no idea what she was thinking. But it seemed rational."

Mark nodded, and then looked at her curiously. "What all did you say she took with her?"

"Everything," Arizona said. Hopelessness invaded her voice, "Like she was running away for good."

"Call her parents," Mark said. "She's going to Miami."

Callie stowed her bag in the overhead compartment and sunk into her seat. She hadn't called her mother. Her mom would call Arizona if she knew what was going on. She didn't want anyone knowing where she was. The connections with Seattle needed to be cut, briefly. She needed a breather. She needed some space. Miami was the furthest thing away from Seattle without leaving the country that had no ties to what had happened to her. She would call Webber when she got home and explain, though he would be furious. He would threaten to replace her. She was almost ready to tell him to go ahead. Her gaze rested on the expansive wings of the plane. The feeling that she would never be healed enough to do her job was hanging over her. She didn't respond to any of the attendant's questions. Her gaze remained fixed on the cold steel wings. I just need to get away. Far far away.

"Yeah, she didn't tell me," Arizona said with a sigh. "I don't know. No, Mark went out to look for her. So far he hasn't found her."

"She didn't call us," Esmerelda said. "She usually calls."

"I don't know. She just…"

"Calliope has always been difficult in times of distress," Esmerelda said. "She deals with things in her own way. She is unpredictable."

"You're telling me," Arizona pulled her legs up and ticked her feet underneath of her. "She's unpredictable at the best of times."

Esmerelda laughed. "Do not worry about her, my Arizona. I believe that Mark's guess is right. If she just wanted to leave right away she would have and come back for her things later. When my Callie feels the need to run, she does not wait."

"I hope you are both right," Arizona said.

"I will call you, sweetheart, when she arrives," Esmerelda soothed. "Try not to worry too much. I know some worry is inevitable."

Arizona could only manage to nod, even though she felt ridiculous because she knew that Esmerelda could not see her.

"Be strong a little longer. Calliope will come back to you," Esmerelda said. "We will speak again soon."

"Okay, thank you," Arizona said. "Bye."

She sat the phone down beside her. Mark opened the door calling her name. "Robbins?"

"Right here, Sloan," she said tiredly.

"She's not at work," he said, closing the door.

"Why would she be there, Mark?" Arizona said, exhaustion lending a biting sarcasm into her words.

He sat down beside her, "I thought she might be with the girl, Natalie. She's not at the park, or the Archfield. I drove around town and didn't see any sign of her."

"She hasn't called home yet, but Esme thinks that you are right. She said that she would call if Callie called or showed up," Arizona motioned to the phone.

"So now you're going to sit there until she calls huh?" Mark said, "You need to do something, get your mind off of things."

"I need to go clean up our bedroom," Arizona said, but she didn't move. She couldn't make herself move.

"Arizona, you aren't going to do anything good for yourself just sitting there."

"There is nothing else I can do, Mark."

She paid the taxi driver and took a deep breath. It had been a long time since she had been home. She keyed in the code on the gate and watched them slowly swing open. The landscaper was out, and he looked up at her with a surprised smile. "Hola Miguel," she called. He waved and she continued on her way up the driveway. The gates closed securely behind her.

Her mother greeted her at the door. "Calliope."

"Mamá," Callie launched herself into her mother's arms. "¿Comó estas?"

"How am I?" her mother held her. "I think the question here is how are you? And more importantly, why are you here?"

"Calliope," Carlos' voice floated to her. She broke out of her mother's embrace and hugged her father. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pressed his lips to her cheek. "It is good to see you."

"Daddy," she breathed. "It's good to see you too."

"I've missed you." Callie smiled at him as she pulled back.

Esmerelda motioned for their butler to take Callie's bags from her. "To her room, please."

Carlos kept his arm around her and shepherded her towards the living room. Esmerelda followed, sitting in an armchair across from the couch where Carlos sat with Callie. "It is good to have you home, safe."

"Yes, amor, it is good to have you home," Esmerelda smiled. Callie could see something hidden behind her guarded eyes. "It has been too long."

"It's always too long," Carlos said, joyous that Callie was home.

"Yes," Callie nodded.

"Darling, why have you come home? And without calling?"

"I can go," Callie said suddenly, standing up. "I did not mean to be a burden."

"Mija," Carlos put his hand on her arm and beckoned her to sit back down with him. "You are always welcome. You never have to call first."

"Yes, but usually she does," Esmerelda pointed out. She was conflicted. She was overjoyed to have her daughter back at home with them, but she knew that Callie had left Arizona in a lot of pain. "Calliope?"

"I had to get away from there, mom. I couldn't deal with it anymore."

"You were doing so well last time we talked," Esmerelda said, concern now laced through her words.

Callie looked at her helplessly before burying her head in her hands and sobbing. Her father pulled her into his arms. "What happened? Who hurt you?" Carlos demanded. "Did Arizona–?"

"What? No!" Callie pulled away. "Arizona has been nothing but supportive, and loving, and…and how have I repaid her…" her words were soft as she trailed off.

"What happened?" Carlos questioned.

"He–" Callie choked on her words. "There was an incident."

"Those evil men are in jail, correct?"

"All but one of them," Callie whispered.

"What do you–"

"Carlos," Esmerelda warned. She could see the fragile state that Callie was in. "She will tell us when she is ready."

"Can I stay here, for a while? I'm not sure how long yet," Callie looked up at her mother, her tears subsiding. Absolute need was written in her eyes.

"Absolutely Calliope. You may stay for however long you wish," Carlos answered, soothing her. "You don't have to leave, if you don't want to."

"Carlos Luis Torres!" Esmerelda hissed. "We talked about this."

"She can–"

"She cannot," Esmerelda said. "She can stay for however long she needs, but she has a job, a career, patients, her own home, friends, and a girlfriend." She glared at her husband, making it known that she would have it in for him later. Turning her attention to Callie, she said, "Speaking of girlfriend. Does Arizona know that you are here?"

"No, I'm not telling her," Callie said. "And neither, mother, are you."

"Callie."

"No. I need a break. I need to cut all of my ties for just a little while," Callie said. "If Arizona knows that I'm here she'll be on the next flight. I just need to get away."

"You should at least call her and tell her that you are safe. You know she is worried about you," Esmerelda insisted. She was letting on that she knew more than Callie had told her, but she was worried about Arizona.

"No, mother," Callie snapped. She stood and began walking out of the room. "Do not talk to her."

Carlos glared at his wife. "Do not look at me like that Carlos. We have discussed this. Callie has made her choice and we are supporting her. Besides. We like Arizona. I like Arizona. She loves Callie."

"Maybe Callie realizes–"

"Do not use her trauma to try to persuade her to your wishes. Do not."

Carlos also stood. "Do not talk to Arizona, Esme."

Esmerelda watched her husband walk out of the room after Callie and shut the doors behind him. She sighed, between Carlos and Calliope she had an interesting couple of days headed her way.

The phone rang and Arizona jumped in shock. She had fallen asleep on the couch, sitting up, feet still tucked underneath of her. She hadn't moved all day. She searched for the phone blindly and lost her balance, tumbling onto the floor. Quickly tossing the blanket aside she frantically found the answer button, "Hello?"

"Arizona," Esmerelda said softly. "It's Esme."

"Hi," Arizona said, trying to not let hope rise.

"She's here. She got here several hours ago. She forbade me from speaking with you," Esmerelda answered her unasked questions. "She's fine."

Arizona let out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I'll be–"

"No," Esmerelda cut her off. "Do not come here, Arizona. Callie needs her space. We will take care of her and send her home to you soon. But please, do not come here. Callie needs a break."

Arizona fought tears, "What do I do?"

"Go about your life knowing that she is safe this time," Esmerelda said. "Even from Carlos. Do not worry about her."

"Carlos?"

Esmerelda laughed softly, "Do not worry about it dear. Your Calliope will be home soon. She just needs a break. And you sound like you need some sleep."

"Well if it's," she craned her neck to check the time on the microwave, "midnight here, it must be four am there?"

"Three am," Esmerelda yawned. "Like I said, Calliope forbade me from speaking to you. I had to wait for both her and my husband to go to bed. But you are my daughter now. My Calliope chose you. You will do well to remember that."

"Yes," Arizona smiled. "Thank you, Esme."

"Goodnight, my Arizona."

Arizona put the phone down. Callie was in Miami, Mark had been right. He made a good point. If Callie had just been staying at the Archfield she would have come back to get her stuff later, she wouldn't have taken the time to pack. It annoyed her that Mark knew Callie better than she did. But he's known her longer. But she should know these things too. She hadn't even thought of Miami as an option. At least she was safe.

Pulling herself to her feet, she realized how cramped she had been. She longed for bed, but knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep without Callie. Snatching the blanket that she could not remember covering herself with, she stretched out on the couch and settled in for a few hours of sleep before her shift started. She was going to have to explain to Webber what happened. He was going to yell. She groaned and turned over.

Callie was not sleeping. She stood in the middle of her room, where she had been for hours, just staring. Everything was familiar. There was no uncertainty, no fear. She was taking it all in. Her room was just as she'd left it before running off to Seattle to do her residency. There was a childlike quality about the room. Innocence and naivety about the world and its horrors hung in the air, enveloping her in welcome. But she was no longer naïve. Her gaze followed the walls lined with plaques and awards and trophies, all marking her achievements and victories of youth. Now victory was measured in a death count and mortality statistics. Achievements were small, unnoticeable steps forward. Pictures of her and her friends from undergraduate school and high school were pinned to one wall and she finally let her feet take her there.

She missed the feeling of invincibility that came and went with youth. They had heard the horror stories of young women who had gone missing. "That'll never happen to me," She whispered. "That'll never happen to me." She barely kept up with these girls anymore. Sighing, she turned towards the large, brass canopy bed with its velvet hangings. She remembered having a bad day and pulling them closed, encasing herself in a shell that protected from the outside world. Slipping out of her shoes, she climbed onto the king sized pillow top mattress that four girls could easily fit on for a sleepover, and pulled the curtains shut.

Instead of peace, quiet, and safety; she felt restless, nervous, and lonely. Walking out on Arizona had never been the right choice but in that moment it was the only way that she could ascertain that she wouldn't be followed. She sunk into the pillows and pulled the covers up to her chin. "I love you, Arizona." She let the numbness invade her again, and drifted off to sleep.

Arizona opened the bedroom door cautiously and let the events of the day before hit her in the chest. Mark was right; the air was thick with tension in here. She left the door open and moved over to the bed. Ignoring her body's strong desire to just curl up and sleep after the day's trials, she fisted the sheets in her hands and ripped them from the bed. Dropping them onto the floor, she continued stripping the bed down to the mattress. Sidestepping a hairdryer, she pulled open the closet doors and let out a squeak in fright. A box fell onto her, she barely had time to put her hands up to block it. Why did they have so much junk? She pushed it out of the way with her foot and reached back up to pull down another set of sheets and the matching comforter. They were silk, crimson, with a comforter in brown with deep red details and stitching. They were Callie's favorite.

She spent precious time making the bed, tucking the corners in tightly, making sure the sheets were even and smooth. She and Callie usually did this together. They would bicker playfully about who had more material on their side, a tug of war game typically erupting. Then once it was made, they would flop down head to head, laughing and just enjoying the moment. She pulled the comforter up. Then she balled up the sheets on the floor and dropped them on the other side of the door so that she could take them down to the washing machines later. She picked up the clothing strewn about the floor. Some of it was hers, but most of it was Callie's from her calm rampage the day before. The scent of Callie's perfume was weaved into the air and she swung her head around. It was pooling on the floor. Callie had knocked it over the day before. It must have been slowly dripping out all night and day long. She sat it back up and grabbed a rag from the kitchen to wipe up the mess. She would go buy her more, if she could remember where Callie got it from.

Separating the clothes, she piled them on the bed and began folding the clean ones. Smiling when she found various pieces of clothing with memories attached, she quickly made her way through the pile. The last shirt she picked up was Callie's college t-shirt. It was worn and soft, the smell of Callie infused into the fabric. She stole it whenever she could; it was her favorite thing of Callie's to wear. She changed her top, burying her nose in the shirt and breathing in the scent of her girlfriend for a few moments before carrying on. Once the clothes were put away, the room looked much, much better. She picked up various objects that littered the floor, including the hairdryer, and put them away. All that was left was the box that she had pushed aside. She didn't know what made her do it, but she sat down on the floor and opened it. A picture of Callie with her arms around a very handsome looking young man lay on top. She turned it over. Callie and Orion. It was dated almost ten years ago. Her brother, Arizona remembered how Callie always shied away from talking about him. She sat the picture aside. A feeling of trepidation arose in her; this was Callie's personal stuff. Her past, personal memories. She didn't know if she had permission to go through this box. But she couldn't stop. There was too much she didn't know about in here. Papers that Callie had written in undergraduate classes and got excellent grades on sat on top. She didn't read them. She didn't need to know what grades Callie had gotten in college. She was a surgeon, obviously they had been good.

More pictures lay underneath. Callie and her friends at various events. She flipped through them, laughing at some. There were a few of a flag football game. She burst out laughing when she saw a group dumping the contents of a water cooler on Callie's head. The look on Callie's face was pure shock, but she looked happy. Arizona stacked the photos beside her and reached back into the box. Callie's bachelor's degree found its way into her hands, and then her master's. She smiled and set them aside. A hardbound book found her next. Curiosity drew at her eyes and she picked it up. She opened it and small, not so neat, handwriting was scribbled across the page.

First day at Seattle Grace.

"Oh my god," Arizona gasped, sitting back. This was Callie's journal from when she was an intern at the hospital. Guilt tried to creep into her heart but she squashed it down, and kept reading.