Post-elevator scene in 7x12

"You want another chance?" Callie tested.

"Yes. More than anything. I want another chance," Arizona smiled hopefully.

"Today I found out that I'm pregnant. With Mark's baby."

Arizona's smile slowly fell.

"How about now?"

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open toward the first floor lobby, but neither woman moved.

Callie stared at Arizona, and Arizona stared at Callie. The challenge hung in the air: would Arizona bail or take the second chance?

Arizona could bail. It wouldn't be easy; of course it wouldn't be easy. She was in love with Callie. But, Callie, pregnant? By Mark? That wasn't in her plan. That wasn't her dream. She could bail.

But she had just asked Callie for a second chance. She had just begged for one. And this was her opportunity. To be a good man in a storm.

The elevators closed again. It was just the two of them, each trembling at the weight of Arizona's decision.

There was such a thin line between Callie realizing her dream and being utterly heartbroken. And Arizona was dancing right in the middle of it. She was the only person who could determine Callie's happiness. Arizona was Callie's happy ending, but was Callie Arizona's?

Arizona was scared. Of the hard stuff. Of forgiving. Of committing. Because this was it. This was committing long term. This was committing to being a parent.

The weight of the decision wasn't lost on her. But, staring into big, brown eyes, Arizona knew that the choice was simple. The choice was Callie. The choice would always be Callie.

Arizona let out a shaky breath, one she only then realized then that she had been holding. "Let's go home," she whispered. Then, she turned toward the double doors and away from Callie decidedly. She looked down at her hands and saw that they were shaking. Her breath came out unevenly. Her heart refused to slow.

Callie's eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. She hadn't expected this. But, she followed Arizona's lead, turning her body to face the still closed doors.

When the elevator dinged and the doors opened again, Arizona took a chance and reached out for Callie's hand. Even though she hadn't said it, wasn't ready to say it, she needed the woman she loved to know that she was in this. That she wanted to be with her, even now. That she was in this thing.

Callie quickly brought her hand to meet Arizona's; they intertwined their fingers and clenched their hands together as tightly as they could, relishing even this simple connection after so many weeks apart.

Arizona stalked through the elevator and then through the double doors of the hospital with Callie trailing behind, half-jogging to catch up. When they were finally side-by-side, the taller woman took a second to really look at Arizona: her eyes were fixed straight ahead, her eyebrows were knit together, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth.

Callie wanted to ask what the blonde was thinking, but she was scared of the answer. So, she didn't. She just let Arizona lead them into the apartment building, up the stairs, and into apartment 502.

Once inside, she released Callie's hand. She cleared her throat. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Callie was puzzled. "I'm fine," she croaked.

Arizona let out a wavering breath. "Okay." She paused. "Let's sit." She made her way toward the couch.

Callie hesitated before following. Finally, she sat down beside the beautiful blonde.

"What happened?" Arizona asked, direct.

Callie wet her lips in dread. "What do you think happened, Arizona? Mark and I had sex."

Arizona closed her eyes, rubbing her hand against her face. "Right."

Callie reached out and grabbed her hand away. She held it in her own. "I'm sorry," she pleaded. "You left me at the airport, and..." She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what she could say.

Arizona breathed heavily, trying to keep her emotions under control. She felt a sting behind her eyes, threatening tears. She hated to cry. Her father had raise her not to. Her brother used to make fun of her when she did. Arizona Robbins was not a crier. She was stoic. She couldn't cry. Not now. Not over this.

Before she could stop it, a tear rolled down her cheek. She felt a sob build in her chest. She knew she wouldn't be able to hold back the waterworks. She hunched over, curling into herself and putting her head in her hands as a sob racked over her body.

"Arizona..." Callie breathed. She couldn't stand seeing the woman she loved in so much pain, even if Arizona had been the one to leave. Before she could stop herself, Callie pulled Arizona into her arms and held her as tightly as she could.

At the feeling of human contact, Arizona began to sob harder. That always happened, and it was why she usually worked hard to remain a distance away from people when she was upset. Tonight, she was beyond caring about her tears, though.

Callie knew her. Callie loved her. Callie wasn't going to tell her to be strong. Not now. Not tonight. Callie was more acutely aware of her flaws than anyone else in her life. And Callie was here, planting soft kisses on every piece of skin she could find: her hands, her arms, her temple, her neck...

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Callie murmured, almost inaudibly between each gentle touch of her lips to Arizona's smooth, white skin.

Finally, after she was completely spent and dehydrated with no tears left, Arizona began to straighten. As Arizona shifted to sit up, Callie stopped running her fingers gently through Arizona's hair and looked at the other woman. Arizona had mascara trails running down her cheeks and worry lines all over her face. Her eyes were the shade of the sea, and just as wet.

She moved to cup the blonde's wet, tired face, using her thumbs to wipe the drying tears from her cheeks. Arizona closed her eyes, relishing the touch she had so deeply yearned for in the weeks of Callie's absence.

When Arizona finally opened her eyes, Callie whispered meekly, "What now?" She was terrified that Arizona might just tell her to get the hell out and never come back. It was a very real possibility.

"Now," Arizona sighed, "We sleep. I'm not ready to talk. Not yet. Not today. You can sleep in my bed, and I'll sleep here. And then we'll talk in the morning."

Callie nodded solemnly. Uncertainty was at least better than rejection. "Okay." She stood up and moved to walk toward the bedroom, but Arizona grabbed her hand. Callie turned back, confused, and Arizona stood up to face her.

The two women stood before each other silently, each feeling a distinct tingling sensation throughout their bodies caused by the other person.

Callie felt her hair stand on end.

She couldn't breathe.

Arizona felt goosebumps coat her skin.

She felt her heart beat in her ears.

They both felt this incredible compulsion to wrap the other into a tight embrace, but neither one of them knew how to initiate it.

Callie felt somersaults in the pit of her stomach.

Arizona's arms ached with a need to touch Callie. All of Callie. Just her hand wasn't enough.

Finally, at an impasse, Arizona smiled softly and released Callie's hand. "Goodnight."

Callie wavered awkwardly. Her arms raised slightly as if to reach out to Arizona, but she quickly lowered them back to hang beside her thighs.

Her fingers were shaking with how much she wanted to feel Arizona. But she was too scared to reach out. "Goodnight." Her tone was hesitant and unsure, but she slowly turned around and ghosted toward the bedroom. At the doorway, she turned to look back at Arizona. The blonde hadn't moved an inch. Finally, Callie walked inside and lightly shut the door.

After several minutes of silent brooding and thinking, Arizona refocused her eyes and returned to reality. Callie had shut the door to the bedroom, and Arizona was left in the living room alone. She tiptoed toward one of her packing boxes and took out some clothes she could use as pajamas, then curled up on the couch, laying a blanket over her and praying for sleep.

She needed to sleep so that she could talk to Callie in the morning. She needed to sleep so that she could make the right decision. She knew what was right already, but she needed to sleep so that she could have the courage to say it.

Callie was worth it. She needed to remember that.