"Arizona," Callie breathed as soon as her ex-wife picked up the phone.

"Callie?" Arizona rubbed the sleep from her eyes, forcing herself out of dreamland. It was late in Seattle. Too late to call. And certainly too late to call from the other side of the country.

"What's wrong? Is Sofia okay? Did something h-"

"She's fine," Callie promised, although her voice was tight, revealing her own stress. She took a calming breath, attempting to soften her voice. "She's fine."

"Okay…" Arizona knew that something was still wrong. Why else would Callie call her? "Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, I'm…" Callie looked down, fingering her sweats' tattered string. She was okay. She was happy, even. She liked her job. She liked New York. She liked living in a high-rise apartment that overlooked the park with her favorite little person in the world. She liked focusing on herself and on her career instead of on love, for a change. She liked the self-assurance she had gained.

Everything was perfect. Except…

Except for one thing. One monumental thing.

"Callie…?" Arizona worried when Callie didn't answer. She leaned down, half-reaching for her prosthetic leg, ready to get on the next flight to New York if she had to.

"Arizona, I'm…thinking about you," Callie finally admitted, her voice soft and breathy in her vulnerability.

Instantly, Arizona's felt her heart speed up in shock and surprise and who knew what else.

On the other side of the line, Callie listened to Arizona's suddenly shallow breathing, waiting for a reaction.

She waited. She counted the seconds. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty.

Her eyebrows furrowed. She would have figured that, maybe, the connection had been lost, but she could hear Arizona's uneven breathing in her ear, letting her know that the blonde was still there.

"Arizona?"

She waited.

Finally: "Callie," Arizona began. She sounded tired—defeated, almost. It was far from the response Callie had hoped for. "What am I supposed to do with that?

Callie balked. "I…"

"I mean, you can't just say that!" Arizona insisted. "Callie, it's 3a.m. for you, and you're there, and I'm here, a-a-and-"

"What else can I say?" Callie countered.

And, to Arizona's surprise, Callie's question sounded genuine, rather than combative. Callie was saying that she was thinking about her, and that's all there was to it.

So Arizona's response was softer than it would have been otherwise.

"I don't know," she sighed. "But you can't…" She trailed off. "I don't know."

"I know it's three in the morning," Callie surrendered, her voice gentle as a caress. "I know it's late, Arizona. And I know that I'm here, and you're there, and I shouldn't be thinking about you, but…I am. I'm here, thinking about how much I want you. And it's not the first time."

Again, Arizona felt her heart speed up, and she wished she didn't know why. But she did. Because she and Callie had always been right together. They had always complemented each other and completed each other. And maybe they each could find something with someone else that sorta kinda compared, if they really tried to convince themselves, but it was never the same. Nothing was ever the same.

"Calliope…" Arizona breathed something between a plea and surrender.

Callie's heart lurched. Goosebumps rose like braille on her arms and legs and solar plexus.

"I want to come home to you," she admitted. "And I want to be 'home.' To you."

"You always have been," Arizona swore. "You know that."

Callie's lips curled up. "I guess I do," she admitted. "But you're home for me, too."

"Yeah," Arizona breathed. "Home. You and I, with our arms around each other." She shivered involuntarily, aching to feel those strong arms around her then.

Callie felt her stomach do somersaults.

"But…" Arizona took a breath. "Do you mean it, Callie? Thinking about me is one thing, but coming home—being together—is big. I'll all in if you are, but if not…"

Callie waited, but when Arizona didn't continue, she promised, "I'm in. I'm in. I just…I want it all with you. I want everything I thought was too hard. I want you." She looked down, quietly adding, "I'm scared to say the stronger word. But I feel it. Now more than ever."

"What I feel for you…" Arizona smiled. "Love's almost too harsh of a word for it. But I love you, Callie. Even now. Even at three in the morning. Even after so long. I love you more every day."

Callie felt a warmth in her chest. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time. Not since the first time Arizona had said she loved her. And never with anyone else.

She smiled. "You do?"

After letting out a small chuckle, Arizona nodded softly. "I do."

Feeling as if she might fly away, Callie inhaled a sharp breath. She exhaled it slowly, hanging onto the moment that felt like the beginning of their forever together.

"I love you, too."