AU 1.

"Arizona," Callie exhaled airily, her voice barely audible.

Arizona's head shot up, the weight of their conversation still putting her rapidly pounding heart in overdrive.

"Do you still love me?" Callie's voice was oddly calm considering how she felt inside.

Arizona shook her head, merely pleading, "Don't ask me that…"

"I want to know," Callie insisted. In that moment, nothing else mattered to her but knowing. Their past didn't matter. Their pain didn't matter. Penny didn't matter.

Nothing else mattered but Arizona and her answer.

"Callie…" Arizona urgently and fervently entreated.

Callie stood strong. She waited. She wanted an answer. She needed one.

"You're with Penny," Arizona reasoned weakly. In her mind, that shouldn't have meant anything, but she knew it meant something to Callie. Callie was happy. Finally. The last thing Arizona wanted to do was get in the way of that.

Callie, on the other hand, acknowledged that Arizona's refusal to answer was an answer alone. Arizona still loved her. That much was clear. She still loved her, and yet she was willing to put Callie first and suffer through her pain, heartache, and longing if it meant her ex-wife would be happy.

And that was everything. That giving, generous love was exactly what they had shared and then lost in the wake of their pain.

Callie released a long breath, her voice a mere whisper. "If given a choice, I would always choose you."

Arizona's eyes bulged in first confusion, then speculation of understanding.

"Penny's great," Callie defended, but even she acknowledged that there was no sense of wonder in her voice. That only came when she talked about Arizona. "But she doesn't compare to you." She looked deeply into Arizona's soulful eyes, emphasizing her words. "She doesn't take my breath away just by the way she looks at me."

Arizona's lips curled up into a shy smile. "No, she doesn't."

Callie waited, feeling as if her body might explode with anticipation at the words she was certain to hear moments later.

"I'm giving you a choice, then," Arizona decided. "Choose me. Because I am in love with you, and I want to be able to show it, for the rest of our lives."

Callie inhaled a sharp breath, her heart hammering in her chest and her entire body tingling. Yep, she decided, I'm exploding. And with colors and joy even brighter than fireworks on the Fourth of July.

"Okay."

Arizona paused in question, then nervously intoned, "'Okay'?"

Callie smiled. "Okay, I choose you. Now. Forever. You're who I choose for all of it."

AU 2.

"Well…" Richard waited expectantly. "How was last night?" Over the course of the past few weeks, it had become a tradition for Arizona to tell him about her conquest the night before. He was eager to find out how the night before had gone.

Arizona shrugged. "It was good," she offered airily, brushing off the question.

"Well, did you enjoy it?" Richard pressed. "Do you think you'll see her again?"

Arizona made a face.

"Robbins!" Richard chided. "Why can't you tell me about this one? It was Glasses, right? Was it bad?"

"No!" Arizona exclaimed.

Richard jumped back in surprise, and Arizona huffed. "It wasn't bad. It was…" She shook her head in defeat. "I just don't want to see her again."

Richard watched his friend carefully, attempting to read between the lines. When Arizona talked about her last encounter, she made it sound…different. But, if that was the case and the blonde didn't want to see the woman again, perhaps different wasn't good. "Did she…take advantage of you?" he asked gently.

Arizona's head snapped up. "What? No!"

"Because, if she did, we can report her, Robbins," he decided paternally. "We can do a rape kit, we can take her to court, we can—"

"Webber!" Arizona exploded. "She didn't rape me! She just made me think of Callie!"

Richard's eyes bulged. That certainly hadn't been what he had expected to hear. He waited, eager for more context. When Arizona didn't offer up any more answers, he intoned, "Well?"

Arizona sighed, looking exhausted rather than light and refreshed, as she had the days and weeks before. "Look, we were having a good time. The sex was great. And consensual," she added pointedly.

Richard nodded in understanding.

"But afterwards, I turned to her and just…" She paused, figuring out how to put the sentiment into words. "The way she was looking at me reminded me of Callie."

The way Glasses had looked at her had made her remember. About Callie. About how deeply beautiful their love had once been. About how Callie used to sometimes pause her ministrations just to marvel at her. About how she would murmur God, you're beautiful in complete wonderment.

And, now that she remembered, it was all she could remember.

Watching Arizona longingly look off into the distance, Richard knowingly crossed his arms. "You still love her."

Wide blue eyes shot up towards her wingman's face.

"Don't you?"

Slowly, Arizona bobbed her head. "I still love her," she breathed. Just the day before, she had been happy with her slew of women and no commitment. But — in the few seconds Glasses had looked at her — Arizona had realized that she didn't want that anymore. She wanted commitment. So long as it was with Callie.

"Tell her," Richard commanded. He had been alive for a long time, and he had learned his lessons.

"I can't," Arizona insisted meekly. It was too late. Years had passed, and Callie was with Penny. Happy without her.

"Right before Mark went into a coma, he said something," Richard stated. "Do you want to know what?"

No. "Yes." Mark had been her friend — he had been family. And Arizona was still eager to learn about the parts of him she had never known.

"'If you love someone, you tell them.'" Richard knew the words well. Mark's poignant yet sound advice was imprinted on his soul. "'Even if you're scared that it's not the right thing. Even if you're scared that it'll cause problems. Even if you're scared that it'll burn your life to the say it. You say it loud. And then you go from there.'"

He gave Arizona a stern look. "You tell her. She's alive. It's not too late."

Inhaling a sharp breath in preparation, Arizona offered a brief nod of her head in understanding.

"Okay," she decided. "I'll tell her."

AU 3

It had been a tough day for the doctors at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital — even tougher than usual.

The ten-car pileup on Highway One had been bad. All the surgeons' patients were dying. Even pregnant mothers. Even kids. Even people with broken bones who had seemed mostly fine. And, while all her friends focused their attention on the emotional residents, Arizona wandered the halls of the hospital in search of a certain orthopedic surgeon.

Arizona knew that Callie'd had some tough losses that day, and she had always taken them harder than anyone.

Arizona didn't know why, but she felt responsible to make sure her ex-wife was okay. She felt like it was something she needed to do.

Having looked everywhere she could think of, Arizona was on the verge of giving up, when she came across the hallway that housed what used to be their on-call room. It's worth a shot, she figured, heading towards the door to peek inside. She slowly opened the door…

And there Callie was. Sitting on the bed with her head in her hands.

Sighing in both sympathy and relief, Arizona hurried inside, quickly closing the door behind her.

Callie's head shut up at the sudden noise, and her eyes bulged as she met Arizona's eyes.

"Oh," she excused herself, fiercely wiping her tears away. "I'm sorry. Did you need this room? I can go."

"Don't." Arizona quickly shook her head and, to Callie's shock, moved to sit down beside her. She pursed her lips, feeling oddly shy in the brunette's presence. "I don't need the room. I just needed to know if you were okay."

Callie looked up at Arizona, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Arizona had been looking for her? Specifically?

"I'm okay," she immediately reassured her, not wanting the blonde to worry. "I'm good." She made a move to get up, but Arizona's solemn voice stopped her.

"Callie."

Callie gulped sitting back down on the thin mattress. Arizona knew her. Arizona still knew her. And that meant that she knew when Callie was lying.

Feeling Arizona's concerned eyes on her, Callie finally admitted, "I'm trying to be okay. I know we did everything we could. And I know — whatever I feel — Jo is feeling that times one-thousand, so I'm trying to be strong for her." She screwed her eyes shut, attempting to keep the incoming tears from falling.

She felt Arizona watching her and knew that she must have looked like a crazy person, so she explained, "I'm just trying not to cry," she sniffled. "I'm supposed to be the strong one."

"No," Arizona exhaled. Callie didn't always have to be the strong one. She didn't always have to "fix" everything. Refusal to admit her own pain was — in part — what had led to so much lasting resentment in the first place. "I'm supposed to be the strong one." And she had been, once. Before the plane crash. She had been Callie's safe place to fall, and she had liked that. Then, later, Callie had reciprocated that role for her.

"It's my turn to be strong," Arizona decided. She scooted closer, bringing her arm up to hover over Callie's back, unsure if she had the right to touch her.

Callie looked at her in question. What was Arizona doing?

Arizona patted her shoulder, silently inviting Callie to rest her head on it. "Come on," she insisted. "For the next twenty minutes, you cry."

Callie made no move in the blonde's direction, still hesitant.

Deciding to be brave, Arizona brought her arm down to cradle Callie's back — holding her like her life depended on it. "Go ahead," she assured her. "It's okay. I'll be the strong one."

And, with Arizona's supportive arm around her, Callie could no longer hold back. She rested her head on the shorter woman's shoulder and breast, and she let the tears fall.

"I'm here," Arizona promised, her fingers creating soothing patterns on Callie's back. She felt her breath become shallow as Callie's warmth and scent invaded her every sense. "Whatever you can't do, I will. Okay?"