set at the end of s13/beginning of s14; basically in lieu of arizona meeting carina

title is from jeremy messersmith's song of the same name

someday, someone

Arizona slumped down on her couch, sighing heavily. Maybe she should call Teddy. Teddy had had her fair share of romantic disasters over the years. But no, Teddy had better things to do than sit around and get drunk with someone she had once been close to.

And anyway, Teddy had known a different version of her. A better, happier version. A version of her that never stopped smiling and was actually genuinely happy. That Arizona had everything, had a near perfect life. That Arizona had been so, so in love with Calliope Torres.

Well, that had never really changed at least.

She couldn't even really comprehend a version of herself that wasn't in love with Callie.

It seemed like an impossible idea. An improbable idea.

The point was: Teddy had a variety of better things to do than listen to Arizona cry about someone leaving her. Again. Because that's what happened to Arizona, or rather, it was what Arizona caused. She drove people away and made them miserable and suffocated them and then they left because why wouldn't they?

She let out a shaky breath as her chest tightened painfully.

Calli-

No, Eliza. This was about Eliza. Eliza was the one who left. Eliza left her. Eliza left her without warning, without a word. Just like- No. She wasn't going to go there.

Alcohol. That's what she needed.

Her first thought was Joe's because of course it was.

But Joe's… Joe's tasted of gin and Callie's chapstick and all she saw every time she walked in there was Callie. She saw Callie's tearful face and her smile and the way she looked that night they went out with Bailey and Teddy and they were happy and they had danced together and Arizona could still almost smell Callie's old perfume (like bergamot and sleepy mornings and safety) and that sticky, sweet smell of spilled beer and dropped tequila shots.

No, Joe's was out of the question. It would dredge up too many memories, happy memories that had long since been tainted. And that was the last thing Arizona needed today.

Better to just drown her sorrows at home where the odds of her doing something stupid dropped exponentially. She had that nice bottle of gin her mom had given her for Christmas. That had potential. And so what if the taste of gin still reminded her of that first night, of the weak gin and tonic she had downed to brace herself to follow after the pretty girl with the sad smile.

Maybe that was what she needed tonight. Those fleeting memories of happier, better, easier times.

Before she knew how easily Callie could break her heart, steal her heart. Before everything had fallen to pieces and Arizona had had to piece things back together as best she could. But it was impossible for Arizona ever to be whole once more. Because Callie had fixed her, made her better, but those cracks still lingered (her abandonment issues, her unresolved grief over her brother, her resentment towards her parents, her need for affection and reassurance that had been absent for years; or so her therapist pointed out) and the collapsing supernova that their relationship had become just made them deeper and more painful. The best analogy she had come up with was scar tissue. Callie had been a balm to those scars and even worked to lessen some of them. But without continuous treatment, scar tissue doesn't just disappear.

No, it flares up and aches and pains you. Some days, every little movement hurt. Other days, you could almost pretend like it wasn't there. At least until you felt that small twinge and catch and it was still there. Just hidden beneath the surface.

There had been a time, once upon a time, where Arizona didn't feel like she was constantly drowning, where she didn't always feel like everything might come crashing down at any moment. Where it was easy to smile and have it actually reach her eyes. Where everything wasn't always a nightmare and things didn't feel impossible.

When had that last been though?

It was so clear to her that she was just a person who wasn't destined to be happy. She didn't get the happy ending, no matter how much she hoped and wished and dreamed of it. Arizona was only allowed to have fleeting tastes of happiness, of love, of comfort before it was torn away from her.

When she was small, she used to curl around her worn teddy bear, pressing her nose into his soft fur and clutching him tight. She never could fully understand the strange tightness in her chest or the way she always felt so entirely alone. Sometimes, she was more than happy to just stay in her own little world, where everything was okay and she could go on grand adventures and have that fairytale magic and have someone, for years, a sort of faceless person as her young mind struggled with the confusion of her heart, actually be there for her.

But other times, (most of the times, if she was being honest) all she wanted was for that to happen in the real world.

It was sad, she knew, to think back on all of the little wishes she had made over the years. On four-leaf clovers and birthday candles and stray eyelashes and shooting stars. She didn't wish for a puppy or new sneakers. Sometimes, she wished for her dad to come back because he actually seemed to understand her more than her mother or brother ever could with their gregarious natures and the easy way they just always seemed to be.

But more often than not, and it still hurt Arizona years later to think of that sad little girl, who wished and hoped for a friend or to fall in love with someone.

Clearly, she had made a mistake though. She had wished to fall in love but she forgot to wish for that person to love her back, for that person to stay. And now here she was, in love, but so, so very alone.

Arizona sniffled, the sound echoing a bit in the empty house.

"God, do you have to be so pathetic all the time," she bit out, her cruelty directed at no one but herself. Because she was the only one to blame. If she had been better, happier, kinder, stronger, more whole, she wouldn't have been in this situation. People wouldn't leave her. People wouldn't discard her so easily. Like, like, like she was nothing.

Arizona had a lifetime of leaving. She was used to not getting attached, or at least she had been before Callie. She was used to packing everything into boxes and not looking back. She had been good at goodbyes, at not becoming too overly attached. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt a bit every time. It didn't mean that Arizona didn't care. She cared. Maybe too much sometimes. She cared and she wanted other people to care. But no one ever did.

Because if they did, they wouldn't leave so easily.

And clearly, and God, was it clear, Arizona was the problem. There was clearly something about her that drove people away. And no matter what she did, she was never enough to make anyone stay. Even when Arizona tried to be better, to be perfect, it wasn't enough. And she knew, she knew that she was the fuck up in each situation.

Some small, sad part of her always hoped that love was enough. It still wanted to believe in fairytales and happily ever after. It still wanted to believe that true love's kiss could cure all.

But that was naive.

Arizona knew better than that.

Sometimes your true love didn't love you anymore. Sometimes planes fell out of the sky. Sometimes you became the monster in your own story. Sometimes (read: always) love wasn't enough.

People fell out of love. People fell in love with other people and were happier than they had ever been. People fought for other people. People picked other people.

But never Arizona.

Because she wasn't enough.

Not for her parents. Not for Tim. Not for Sofia.

And certainly not for Callie. There had been others throughout the years who had left her. But no one had devastated her so much as Callie.

And Arizona knew it was pathetic. She and Callie had been divorced for years now. Actual years. Sofia probably had more memories of them apart than she ever had of them together. And Callie moved on and was happy and who was Arizona to dispute that. Callie should be happy.

Arizona just wanted… she just wanted… all she wanted was a split second of that happiness again. That happiness that had become so foreign, so alien to her that she could only barely remember how it felt.

And it had felt warm and safe and like that first sip of champagne, full of bubbles and a bit of a rush and sweet. If she closed her eyes, she could try and see Callie's smile from before Arizona had ruined them. She could try and hear the gentle tone of Callie's voice as she told her she loved her.

But it was always dangerous to slip down that path.

Because Arizona knew the truth now.

No matter how much she tried to deny it.

She could try to lie to herself. Try to cling to those memories.

The fact of the matter was that Callie didn't love her anymore. Callie moved on and left Arizona behind and Arizona just wanted it to stop. She wanted to stop hurting; she wanted to stop aching.

It just wasn't that easy to fall out of love with Callie. Despite her best efforts, it was damn near impossible.

Eliza had been a valiant attempt and maybe in another universe, one where Arizona had never moved to Seattle, where she had never seen Callie Torres across the corridor, where she hadn't followed the pretty girl with the sad smile into a dirty bar bathroom, maybe in that universe, Arizona could fall in love with Eliza.

But even that sentiment felt weak to Arizona.

She was almost positive that Arizona Robbins was built to be in love with Calliope Torres for a lifetime in this universe and every other one.

The only problem was, and it was a rather significant one, Calliope Torres was not supposed to be in love with Arizona Robbins for more than a moment in time. It was a wonderful, perfect moment. But as is the nature of moments, it ended and Arizona was left with the remnants of her heart.

With a sighing, shuddering breath, Arizona pulled herself to her feet, not even bothering to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. Everything was just too much.

Gin had to help. It just had to.

Arizona just needed to not feel for a moment. Just a moment. And then she could try and pull herself together and continue on with her playacting.

xx

"Okay, right, so I've got Sofia's bag packed and all of her documents printed out. I've got the tickets booked and now I just need to…" Callie trailed off, looking around her bedroom at the mess surrounding her. It would have given Arizona a conniption. Arizona… Yeah, that was the other missing piece, beyond Callie's desperate need to pack. How exactly was Arizona going to react to her ex-wife showing up on her doorstep?

Well, it was too late to properly consider that. She had booked the tickets and told Sofia they were going to see Mommy and Sofia was thrilled and bouncing around and the last thing Callie wanted was to disappoint her daughter. Especially given the past months in New York.

Sofia seemed determined to be okay with New York, but Callie could hear the sad, longing in her voice when she talked about Seattle, and she could see the way her eyes light up whenever she got to see Arizona in person.

Her guilt over tearing Sofia away from Arizona and Seattle flared up every time she eavesdropped on Sofia's conversations with Arizona. Sofia sounded nothing short of delighted as she explained all of the many, many activities she was involved in to Arizona. But it was Arizona's voice that gave away the game. On the surface, Arizona matched Sofia's energy. But there was an undercurrent of grief and hurt that haunted Callie.

Arizona had won and she still let Callie take Sofia. Arizona won but she gave Sofia up. Many sleepless nights had been spent pondering that decision. And Arizona's words, "Sofia deserves two happy moms", echoed endlessly. Arizona didn't seem all that happy from the tiny glimpses Callie had been afforded. She seemed sad and weary and almost like she had given up at times. It was so antithesis to the Arizona that Callie had met and fallen in love with all those years ago.

And wasn't that the point? That Arizona had changed and Callie had felt suffocated and there was no point in continuously trying to fix things?

But that didn't mean Callie wanted Arizona miserable. She wanted Arizona to be happy too. That's why she had left.

In fact, the last thing she wanted was Arizona miserable. Because… because… because…

She still loved Arizona.

Callie let out a short exhale. She had only become used to saying that to herself again in the past few weeks. It had been a startling realisation in the middle of washing the dishes. So startling in fact, that she had broken a glass and sliced her palm open.

As she sat in the emergency room, waiting for someone to come look at her hand, she had stared blankly ahead, fighting the urge to say the words, "I'm in love with Arizona."

And she had fought it admirably until Penny had appeared, concern clear in her face, immediately saying, "I heard you were here. What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm in love with Arizona."

"What?"

"I'm in love with Arizona," she had repeated, strength seeping into her voice, a strength that had been long gone, or so she thought. "I'm in love with Arizona."

"Did you hit your head?"

"No, no, I didn't. I'm fine. It's just my hand. But we need to break up."

What had followed was an ugly, near-screaming match in the middle of the ER, ending in Penny yelling, "Screw you, Calliope Torres!" and tossing a pack of bandages dangerously close to Callie's head.

The startling realisation that she still loved Arizona dominated Callie's thoughts and the more she thought about it, the more sure she felt. She still loved Arizona and she was almost positive that Arizona just might love her too. That wasn't the issue. The issue would be if they could actually ever forgive each other for their transgressions.

During her time away from Seattle, even in the renewal of her relationship with Penny, Callie had found herself thinking back on her relationship with Arizona and how it had slowly imploded. By pure chance, she had been invited to speak at a symposium about her work with veterans and really, she had been intending to give her speech, try not to throw up and then head back to the hospital. But the speaker after her, a psychologist of some sorts, had captured her attention as he discussed his own struggles with his own amputation and the psychological struggles of something so traumatic.

Callie was well-versed from a clinical standpoint in the potential hot spots of mental distress with amputation. She went over them regularly with her patients. And she even had first-hand knowledge of how badly things could go with a spouse.

But as he spoke, Callie couldn't help but think back to Arizona's fragile state in those long months all those years ago. And a small well of shame sprung in Callie's chest. Had she failed to adequately help Arizona? Or had she been too fixated on her own problems, her own grief over Mark? Was it fair for her to accept that guilt? Should she have pushed Arizona to speak to a therapist? Was there something that Callie could've done to help Arizona?

In further discussion with her own therapist, she had come to the conclusion that there was very little point in dwelling on what ifs in that scenario. Neither she or Arizona had been adequately supported and Arizona in particular was forcing herself into situations she wasn't ready for in an attempt to hold things together. Callie could accept some ownership in their problems, but Arizona also had her own agency and Callie couldn't make decisions for Arizona.

Callie would always carry the pain of seeing Arizona's ring on, on, on that woman's top and the slow and then sudden realisation of what happened. But now, years later, and from a better place herself, she could recognise at least some of the factors that led to Arizona crumbling in that storm.

That Arizona from that night was borderline unrecognisable to her. That wasn't the Arizona she fell in love with, nor the one she had married. It wasn't even the Arizona she divorced.

That Arizona was like all of Arizona's worst traits bursting to the surface in a terrible maelstrom of grief and loss and frustration and pain and trauma and Callie hadn't noticed until it was too late.

She wasn't and she couldn't blame herself for Arizona's actions. They were Arizona's actions. But it helped in some way to make her peace with what happened.

Callie just wondered if Arizona would be able to make her peace with Callie walking out on her and then the clusterfuck that was the custody battle. Callie would defend her choice to leave Arizona but the custody battle and how she had let her lawyers say those things about Arizona… that was borderline indefensible.

She had been so preoccupied with someone else leaving her behind, once again being the romantic screw up of the hospital, that she hadn't fully considered the implications of what she was doing to Arizona. Arizona had called lawyers first, but Callie had, and only in retrospect realised the impulsivity of her actions, told Arizona that Sofia was moving to New York without a second thought. She hadn't hesitated, hadn't paused for a moment to consider how her actions would affect Arizona.

If Arizona had come up to her and without warning, declared that Sofia was moving across the country, well, Callie was sure that she wouldn't have handled it with as much grace as Arizona did. Those days between the ruling on their case and Arizona showing up with Sofia and plane tickets had been some of the hardest days of her life. Although part of her had known that Arizona would never keep Sofia from her (and another part of her was terrified that she herself, in a fit of anger, might have tried to keep Sofia from Arizona if the roles were reversed), there had been an uncertainty.

But Arizona had shown up with Sofia and plane tickets and told Callie to be happy. And Callie had been so overwhelmed with the gesture that she hadn't paused to think about how it would affect Arizona, hadn't noticed how Arizona's smile didn't reach her eyes, didn't notice how Arizona clung tight to her for only a few moments before putting some distance between them.

She hadn't even connected the last time one of them walked away with plane tickets until months later. When Arizona had walked away, she had told Callie to "be happy". Then, when she was telling Callie to walk away, again, Arizona had said that "Sofia needed two happy moms", once more trying to ensure Callie's happiness. But what about Arizona's happiness? Wasn't that important too?

"I don't need much to be happy. I don't even need two legs, but I do know that I need you. I need Sofia and I need you."

In recent weeks, Arizona's words from years again lingered in Callie's mind. She wanted to doubt that she was part of Arizona's happiness anymore. Sofia was, of course; how anyone, including her, had ever doubted Arizona's love and devotion for their daughter was unthinkable.

But Callie had taken Sofia from Arizona. Even though it had been Arizona's decision in the end, Callie had been the one to leave Seattle and Arizona behind, Sofia in hand. Had that been the right decision? Had initiating the whole custody battle been the right decision? And how had Arizona let go of Sofia?

For the first few days, Callie had been sure that it was secret proof that Arizona somehow thought that they had made the wrong choice. That Callie was the better parent. And the guilt that had accompanied that thought ate away at her.

Then she had thought that maybe Arizona was just trying to fix things enough between them that they wouldn't ruin Sofia.

But the truth of the matter had always lingered beneath the surface, a truth that Callie hadn't wanted to acknowledge for years, something that she had seen and noticed and felt, and yet rejected and buried.

Arizona loved her.

Callie wasn't sure if she had ever really stopped.

She knew that she herself hadn't always loved Arizona. There was a point towards the end where she knew that she was no longer in love with her wife and that had been the impetus to leave. She never stopped caring, worrying about Arizona, but she fell out of love with her. Or so she thought.

But Arizona… Arizona, it seemed like she never could move forward. She never made any real attempts at a new relationship, despite what Callie's lawyers had intimated during the custody trial.

Arizona still had that same soft smile sometimes for Callie, and bent too easily, and showed up with plane tickets. Even years after the divorce, Arizona was still showing up on Callie's doorstep to make big gestures.

Now, though, now, it was Callie's turn to make a big gesture.

Admittedly, her plan wasn't much evolved beyond a desperate need to see that Arizona was okay after hearing about the explosion at Grey Sloan. She needed to see for herself that Arizona was safe and whole and not completely falling to pieces. The perfunctory text she received from Arizona two days prior wasn't not reassuring, but Callie needed to see for herself that Arizona was okay.

That was a perfectly normal thing to feel about the mother of your child.

Even more normal to feel about the woman you had been in love with for the better part of a decade.

That was the second part of her plan.

Tell Arizona she loved her.

What could possibly go wrong?

As if on cue, her phone rang.

Callie fumbled for it, tripping over her unpacked suitcase as she answered, "Dr Callie Torres, speaking."

There was silence on the other end for a few beats, so much so that she nearly hung up. But then… giggles?

"Hey, Calliop- Callie."

There was only one person in the world who managed to make her name sound like it was nothing short of delightful. "Arizona?"

"Yep," Arizona hiccuped on the other end of the line, "Tha's me."

Callie sank down to the edge of her bed, a frown tugging at her mouth. "What's wrong?"

A high pitched, broken sort of laugh echoed through and it was just wrong on so many levels. "Nothing, nothin'. Everything's the same. Everyone's left me. No one stays. I make everyone leave and y'know what, that's just awesome. You left. Tim left. Nick left. Teddy's here-"

"Teddy's there?" Callie cut in, nearly releasing a sigh of relief. She hated the thought of Arizona on her own.

"Not for me. No one's ever here, there, anywhere for me. But that's okay. 'm used to it. I miss it though."

"Arizona," Callie started, mindful to keep her tone light and free of judgement. She had already judged Arizona far too much and far too unfairly in the past. "Are you drunk?"

"Hm?"

"Have you been drinking?"

"Just a littl-" Arizona hiccuped and Callie just knew she had been crying. Even though it had been years since Callie had been the person Arizona went to when she was crying, Callie still could recognise that tell-tale wobble to Arizona's voice. "Had a bit of gin. But it helps. Makes things not so, not so, hm, wha's the word? Not so painful. Hm, yeah, less painful, still hurts. But it hurts all the time anyway so what's the difference?"

"Your leg?"

Arizona let out a high pitched laugh that set Callie's nerves on edge. "It's always 'bout the leg, isn't it?"

"Arizona-"

"No, no, I get it. It's the leg. Can I tell you a secret?" Before Callie even had a chance to process what Arizona asked, she forged on ahead, "I miss how you looked at me before the leg, hm, no, maybe before I went to Africa. I don't think y'ever forgave me for Africa. I don't think I've ever forgave myself for Africa."

"Africa? Arizona, what're you-"

But Arizona was on a roll and it was almost like Callie wasn't on the other end of the line. "I just miss how you looked at me when you loved me and didn't hate me. It just hurts, y'know, knowin' that you hate me. I hate me too so it's okay."

Callie's heart clenched and all she wanted to do was hold Arizona, but that wasn't possible because Callie walked away and Callie took their daughter across the country and Callie made Arizona think she hated her. And how could Callie not feel guilty for her role in how things ended? Especially when Arizona's brokenness was so clear for her at that moment.

There was a clicking noise on the other end of the line and for a split second, Callie didn't recognize it.

"Are you smoking?"

"No," Arizona mumbled around what must have been a cigarette. A long exhale did little to dissuade Callie's of her accusation. "'s'not like it's hurting anyone."

"Beyond you."

"Oh well."

Silence stretched between them as Callie struggled to comprehend what was happening. This was probably the longest conversation the pair of them had had in years. But it felt wrong. Arizona felt wrong. A strange melancholy seeped into Arizona's every word, weighing her down heavily, almost sapping the life from her.

"Look, Arizona-"

"When did it stop hurting?"

"What?"

"Or maybe it never really hurt for you. You were fine. You walked away and you started dating and falling in love and being the happiest you've ever been. And I'm just… stuck. It was so easy for you and it's impossible for me and, and, and I dunno…"

"You told me to move on. You told me to go kiss everyone, Arizona," the words were out before Callie could stop them. "You let me go."

There was a sniffle on the other end and then a long exhale. "What was I supposed to do? You deserve someone who makes you happy, not someone who suff-suff-suffocates you." Callie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Sometimes it felt like she and Arizona were just stuck in this perpetual cycle of miscommunication and old wounds and lashing out. "Hm, maybe 'm just jealous you just moved on and I'm just… just, y'know, broken or whatever. I can't, no matter how hard I try, it's just, that, y'know, no one's you-"

"Arizona-" Callie tried to cut in, but Arizona was on a roll.

"I know I was never enough, never good enough for you, but I… I… I love, loved you. You know that right?"

"Of course, I-"

"Then can you please let me go?"

"I'm not doing-"

"Callie, please, if you ever loved me… can't you let me go? Why don't I ever get to be happy? I'm so, so tired of always being miserable, Callie. I just want someone to stay for once, to choose me. To be happy. But I don't think it's possible. I ru-ruined my happy ending. And it's my fault. I don't, I can't blame anyone else. I don't blame you for leaving, in case I haven't told you that. I, I, I get it," Arizona's voice cracked and Callie could hear her holding back tears and she hadn't felt this helpless in years. "All I, I ever wanted for you was for y-you to be happy and you're happy now and Sof's happy and that's enough."

"You should be happy too," Callie said, her voice soft and gentle, barely above a whisper. "You deserve to be happy too, Arizona."

There was a rustling on the other end of the line and another tell-tale click before Arizona replied, "I'm not sure I do. 'cause if I deserved to be happy, then I could be happy. But I haven't been happy in years and it's my fault. I don't know… I don't know how not to be in love with you anymore, Callie."

Callie froze. She had hoped, thought that it might be a possibility… that Arizona might still be in love with her. Some days, it felt almost inevitable. Others, it seemed like a pipe dream. Sure, there were small indications that Arizona never got over her. But Arizona had torn them apart. Callie had said unforgivable things. Arizona had told her to take Sofia and got to New York. Even then, even after that demonstration of emotion, the idea of Arizona having any positive feelings towards her, much less love, sometimes seemed impossible.

But here Arizona was, albeit drunk and begging Callie to let her go, confessing that she still loved Callie.

"Arizona, I-"

"Please, can you… just please let me go, Callie. I let you go. Even though it felt like I was, like I was dying sometimes because my heart hurt so much. But I let you go and move on and I, please?" Arizona sounded so, so broken and so unlike herself and Callie would do almost anything to make things better for her.

Callie exhaled slowly. "Yeah," her voice shook as she spoke, "I can let you go." Callie wasn't even sure Arizona would remember this conversation in the morning, but she might be able to give her a moment's peace. But her words only seemed to spark tears from Arizona, who let out a few broken sobs on the other end. "Please don't cry."

"I don't want to be in love with anyone else," Arizona whispered, a true confession that broke Callie's heart. "Thank you, Callie, for-" The line abruptly went dead and Callie let out a curse.

She fell back on her bed, swiping a hand over her cheeks which were surprisingly damp. She hadn't even realised she had been crying.

She tried dialing Arizona back, but it just rang straight to voicemail.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she hissed into the back of her hand, blinking back more tears. What was she supposed to do now? Arizona clearly wanted her to stay away, to leave her alone, to let her move on. But Callie knew now more than ever that she loved Arizona.

Her phone buzzed and Callie nearly fell off the bed in her eagerness to get it.

Maggie Pierce [02:09]: I think this was meant for you from Arizona: Calliope - Phone died. Thx for talking. Means a lot. Glad it's done. xx Arizona

'Glad it's done.'

That sealed things for Callie.

There wasn't any point in going to Seattle.

Arizona was done with them.

Callie was too late.

She had waited too long and Arizona wasn't hers anymore.

Callie curled up on her side, tears falling silently down her cheeks onto her pillow. It hurt, physically ached. But she had to let Arizona go. That's all Arizona asked for.

She had to let her go.

xx

hit me up on twitter (lavender_lenax) or tumble (spookyrobbins) or in the comments here if you have requests! (for either drabbles or something longer!)

much love xx