"Holy shit," Callie says, standing in the doorway of her office.

Arizona is sitting in her usual chair, hair pulled into a looping, loose bun, surrounded by piles and piles of papers— studies, articles, medical records. They're supposed to be meeting for lunch to discuss Ava's case but the room looks like a bomb went off. Arizona has completely colonized Callie's space. "What the hell did you do to my office?" Callie asks, jaw dropped.

Arizona freezes. "I may have gone a bit overboard."

Callie's eyebrows raise and the corners of her mouth twitch. "I can see that."

"I'm sorry, I can clean it up. I'm sorry. I didn't—" she stammers, a near fear-like look passing across her face as she starts to gather up the papers in front of her. Neither of them have forgotten their argument in the lobby; every interaction is tinged with the thin peace of an unfinished resolution.

"It's fine, Arizona, it's okay," Callie reaches out to her on instinct, covers Arizona's hands with her own. "This is what I get for being late."

She slides her hand from Arizona's to the first paper she sees in an effort to downplay the motion. The title reads, Slipped Cap Femoral Epiphysis Alignment in Immunosuppressed Patients.

Callie skims it as she circles the desk. "You're researching SCFE?"

"Uh, yeah. I am," Arizona says. She shrugs. "Figured it couldn't hurt."

There's a look of absolute wonder and softness on Callie's face as she sits down, paper clutched in one hand. "Thanks."

"Like I said, it can't hurt." Arizona shrugs again, thins her lips like it doesn't matter to her at all. Like it shouldn't matter to Callie, either, even though they both know it does. Callie stares at her, pulse fluttering. Utterly confused. What a terrifying feeling.

"How's it looking?" Callie asks.

They've already met twice this week to exchange research and float treatment plans, and Callie has been getting more and more helpless. Almost none of it has anything to do with ortho. She's weak-kneed and stumbling and clinging to Arizona. Arizona. Her world orbits around Arizona's thoughts, Arizona's opinions. Arizona's stalwart belief in her own ability to succeed at anything, even when they both know she's faking it.

She hates it. It's uncomfortable and it forces her to consider, for the first time in years, that Arizona is the type of person that someone— anyone who isn't Callie, really— could have genuine faith in.

Well, best not to think too hard about that.

"Really good, actually." Arizona looks up from her notes briefly, light caught in her eyes. "I have a new treatment plan that I wanna run by you, and there are a few things that need ironing out but I'm hopeful that we could have her cap realignment done as early as October."

"October?" Callie repeats. "I can't believe— that's incredible."

Arizona smiles broadly. "I know."

Callie doesn't respond to that. She should say something nice, she knows she should. But she can't. Won't. They're just not there yet.

An ambulance siren passes by her office window. The soft clicks of a clock hand in the silence afterwards. Both equally as loud.

"You didn't eat breakfast," Arizona states. It's a statement. Callie furrows her brow, eyes wide and nervous. "You get weird when you forget to eat," Arizona explains. She opens her purse, shuffling through it while Callie looks on in abject horror. Then she pulls out a tupperware container. "Here. Sofia and I made these this morning. I was gonna have it for lunch, but…"

"Arizona, no," Callie tries to turn her down. "You don't have to do this."

"It's fine, Callie. Really."

Callie takes the container gingerly from Arizona's hands, letting the tips of her fingers brush Arizona's for half a second before Arizona pulls away. The container wobbles when Arizona lets go. Callie tightens her grip. She pops open the lid— waffles. Who has waffles for lunch? Still:

"I love waffles," Callie admits. She's already reaching for the set of disposable utensils she keeps in her desk.

Arizona snorts. "Yeah, I know?" she says, like it should be obvious.

Callie scowls. "Don't ruin the moment."

After Arizona finishes catching Callie up over breakfast, which is weird, like, really weird, they walk to Ava's room together. Arizona needs to run a series of tests before committing to the new plan, and Callie needs to follow Arizona around to make sure she doesn't fuck anything up. Or maybe it's just compulsive at this point. She honestly doesn't know.

Her shoulder knocks Arizona's as they step into Ava's room, and Arizona jerks away. Callie clears her throat, looking at the opposite wall while Arizona steadies herself. She has to pretend not to notice or Arizona won't speak to her for the next hour.

"Good morning, Ava. How's that tummy of yours?" Arizona says, not looking in Callie's direction.

Ava doesn't respond, instead saying, "Have you ever seen the Wizard of Oz, Dr. Robbins?"

"I have," Arizona scrunches up her face, cocks her head. "It's… good," she tries, which Callie knows is a lie just from her voice. She doesn't understand why it's a lie, though— the Wizard of Oz seems like the kind of movie Arizona should like. Callie watches Arizona carefully, stuck on the way her breath catches before she speaks. "My brother loved it when we were kids."

"It's my favorite movie of all time." Ava pauses, considering Arizona. "You have a brother?"

Needing something to do with her hands, Callie grabs Ava's chart. She flips through it for a second before trying to pass it off to Arizona, who pretends not to notice. Callie drops her arm awkwardly, still clutching the clipboard.

There's a long moment where Arizona is deciding what to say. Her mouth opens, closes, opens again. "Yes." she says, but she shakes her head no. "I do."

"Huh. I always wanted a brother," Ava plays with her fingertips as she speaks with all of the fidgety nervousness of a child who doesn't quite get what she said wrong. "Maybe if I had a brother, he'd watch the Wizard of Oz with me. Ma's sick of it."

"Well, it's no 9 to 5," Arizona forces the corners of her mouth up. Ava is studying her face very carefully, a scattershot approximation of her mother.

Callie latches onto the subject change before the situation can get any worse. "You like that movie too much," she jokes.

"Lily Tomlin, Callie!" Arizona pulls her lips low and tight against her teeth in an exasperated half-grimace, half-smile that she does. She gives Callie a brief, grateful look. "How many times do I have to explain this to you?"

"One more, clearly." Callie tries to hand the chart to Arizona again. This time she takes it, reviewing her own notes even though Callie knows she has them memorized. Her fingers are trembling slightly.

Ava raises her hand like she's in a classroom. "What's 9 to 5?"

Arizona gasps. "Am I old?"

"You were like five when that movie came out, Arizona," Callie groans, "You're not old."

"I'm old."

"You're definitely old," Ava interrupts. She's stopped fidgeting and Arizona has stopped shaking and Callie almost feels like she can breathe. Callie hears Arizona take a sharp breath. False outrage on her face.

"Hey!" Arizona grumbles. "It's only okay when I say it."

She steps forward, reaching for her stethoscope to start Ava's exam for the morning. Ava rolls her eyes, something she would never get away with if Gloria was here.

Callie crosses her arms. She gives Ava a pointed look. "Yeah, you heard the lady."

Arizona smirks, throws Callie a glance over her shoulder. "Plus Dr. Torres is older than me. Now she's old."

"Uh!" Callie's jaw drops. "Watch it."

The tightness is Callie's throat eases, and Arizona moves forward with Ava's assessment without looking back even once. Today, Callie has her back, and she knows that.

Knowing everything about Arizona is starting to get complicated.

Callie pulls Arizona into one of the quieter hallways after they finish with Ava, bracing her hand against the wall behind Arizona's head and leaning down slightly. The hallway is mostly empty but she still lowers her voice so that nobody passing by can hear them. "Are you okay?"

A nurse walks past them and Callie's head turns to track him with her eyes. She's blocking Arizona from view protectively until she realizes what she's doing and steps back.

"Fine," Arizona smiles brightly. Callie raises an eyebrow at her. "Okay, fine enough. It's not a big deal, Callie, geez. I can handle a patient mentioning his favorite movie."

"Can you?" Callie asks genuinely.

Arizona stiffens and Callie regrets checking in with her at all. It never goes well when Callie tries to help her, which is one of Arizona's most frustrating traits. She's so incapable of relaxing.

"I'm walking away now." Arizona's words are clipped.

Callie grabs her arm before she can step back into the main hall. "Wait," she says. "Sofia asked to do a game night tonight," Callie lies impulsively. All she can think is that she doesn't want to leave things like this. "She asked me to invite you."

"Like, Monopoly? You want us all to play Monopoly in your living room?"

"Yeah, kind of," she responds. "I mean, since Sofia wants it."

Bringing up Sofia is the one thing that always works. Arizona is so predictable.

"Okay," Arizona agrees. Point, Callie. "What time should I come over?"

Callie stops for long enough to realize two things: a, that she hasn't planned this out at all, and b, that spending time with her ex-wife is physically painful 90% of the time. She feels her smile lock artificially in place. "How about six?"

Arizona nods. "Six is good for me."

She's in the kitchen with Sofia when the doorbell rings, hands covered in white flour for the homemade pizza that was supposed to be finished an hour ago. Callie hesitates for a minute in front of the mirror she keeps in the entryway. Fusses with her hair and smoothes down her blouse before opening the door.

"Arizona, you're here," Callie says.

Arizona frowns, that well-loved crease tugging at her eyebrows. "You invited me."

"I did, yes, I did," Callie nods, a traitorous strand of stray hair falling into her face. She pushes it back with the flat of her palm and Arizona's eyes follow the motion. "Come on in. Sofia's in the kitchen."

Arizona trails after her, visibly uncomfortable. "If tonight's not good…" she starts.

"Tonight is great. Perfect, actually!" Callie grins, overly-wide, and Arizona stares at her. She has new lines on her forehead that Callie never noticed before. "We're just finishing up with dinner, if you want to grab a chair."

"Sure," Arizona draws out the word uncertainly. "Callie?" she calls.

Callie responds with a quick, absentminded, "Yeah?"

"You have, um. You have a little flour on your forehead." Arizona motions at her own forehead with her hand.

"Okay, well, that's just great," Callie cringes, swiping the back of her arm across her face. She regrets this already. "Make yourself at home."

Arizona turns in a slow circle, taking in the room. Her eyes drift over the expensive couch Callie's had gotten at a vintage auction last year with Penny that Callie secretly kind of hates; the old bookshelves that Callie won in the divorce; the family photos hanging on the wall. She lingers on one of the three of them for a second too long.

Callie's grabbing the game board out of the cupboard when she hears a crash from the kitchen, followed by a loud "I didn't break anything!" She and Arizona share a look, a familiar, exasperated look, and Callie silently hands off the game.

"I've got this," Callie says and Arizona laughs but it's short and shallow. Obligatory. She seems nervous.

At least Callie isn't alone in that.

When Callie walks into the kitchen, she finds Sofia standing in the center of the room holding an upside down bottle of tomato sauce. An upside down bottle which has recently been emptied onto Callie's white tile floors.

"I dropped it," Sofia explains.

The stepping stool they use to help Sofia reach the counters when they're cooking together is flipped on its side but doesn't seem broken, and Sofia herself seems completely fine.

"I can see that, sweetheart," Callie takes the bottle from Sofia and sets it to the side. "I told you to wait for me before trying to add the sauce."

Sofia pouts. Puffs up her chest to make herself taller. "I know you did, but I knew I could do it on my own."

Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh. Sofia is just like Arizona in that she stops listening if Callie doesn't play it right. Callie kneels in front of her daughter, careful not to step in pizza sauce. "But could you do it on your own?"

She shakes her head. It's adorable. Don't. Laugh.

"Alright, let's get this cleaned up so we can finish dinner." Callie slides one foot back as she tries to stand without checking behind herself, slips because she isn't paying attention, and loses her balance almost immediately. Her arms flail as she falls ass-first onto the floor.

She bursts out laughing. It's too hard not to, with Sofia standing in a giant red puddle and Callie physically feeling a bruise forming on her tailbone. She can't help it.

Arizona appears in the kitchen, rolling her sleeves up to her elbows, looking like she's prepared for chaos. "Everything okay in here?"

Sofia and Callie blink back at her. Twin deer-in-headlights faces. Tomato sauce everywhere.

"What, did you start a food fight with our eight year old daughter?" Arizona's mouth hangs open in shock.

A glob of dough that was clinging to the counter plops onto the floor. Callie cringes. "Somethin' like that."

Arizona covers up a giggle— a real one this time, Callie can tell— with a cough. She presses her lips together to strangle her smile. "I've got the pizza if you want to deal with," she stops, at a loss for words, "that."

Callie glares at the spilled tomato sauce pooling in the middle of her kitchen. "Works for me."

After Callie finishes wiping up Sofia's mess, she and Arizona stand shoulder to shoulder, kneading out the dough Callie had made before Arizona arrived. They form it into a circle, and then Arizona supervises while Sofia adds the sauce.

The heat from the oven has started to curl Callie's baby hairs and flush Arizona's cheeks. Callie's apartment is warm and it smells good and it kind of, almost, sort of feels like a home.

She holds open the oven for Arizona to lay down the baking sheet, watching how Arizona's hair falls in front of her face when she bends over.

"This thing has about fifteen minutes before it's ready if you two want to get started." Callie shuts the oven door, brushing her hands off. Sofia's head snaps up. "I guess that's a yes."

Callie cracks her knuckles as she settles into her seat, Arizona across from her and Sofia to her right. She then pops her neck on both sides before laying her hands on the table. Eyes focused. Arizona glowers at her. They've always been competitive.

The first few rounds go easy enough. Callie takes Marvin Gardens; Arizona takes Atlantic Avenue. Callie takes Vermont; Arizona takes Connecticut.

Arizona smirks at Callie as she lands on Boardwalk. Callie narrows her eyes at her ex. Draws her finger across her throat threateningly.

"How much is it, $200? I sure hope I have the money," Arizona smiles sweetly and reaches for her stack of fake bills. She starts counting them out slowly.

"Mom?" Sofia interrupts. She points at the game card in her hand. "That's my property. You have to pay me."

Arizona does a double take. "Oh, sorry sweetie. Sure," she says, dutifully forking over the cash.

There's a moment when the Monopoly Money passes from Arizona's hand to Sofia's where the game shifts.

Sofia gets this glint in her eyes that, frankly, scares the hell out of Callie. She clutches her winnings in her tiny, chubby fist like she's just now realized that capitalism is awesome. Like she's just realized exactly how much money hotels can make her.

It's as if Callie is staring at her father.

Arizona makes a small, fearful noise. They're in trouble now.

Callie falls back onto the couch with a groan. She burrows into the cushions, stretching her legs out with a second groan before grabbing her wine glass from the coffee table. Arizona takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch, as far from Callie as possible.

"We just got our asses handed to us by a second grader," Callie complains. "Where did she even learn how to do that?"

"The ghost of Mark Sloan is haunting me," Arizona relaxes into the couch, drapes her arm over her eyes to block out the light.

Callie snorts. "Yeah, that's probably my fault."

Arizona peeks out from between her fingers. There's a look of righteous indignation on her face, something that says yeah, no shit, and Callie kicks Arizona's thigh with the ball of her foot.

Arizona goes still. Her hand tightens around the stem of her glass so that her fingers are pale and bloodless.

"Can you stop doing that?" she snaps.

Callie freezes, foot brushing Arizona's leg. She laughs nervously. "What?"

"You just, you keep touching me," Arizona says. It sounds like she's been thinking about this for a while. "And I'm glad you're feeling comfortable around me, Callie, really, I am. But I'm not— you just can't do that. I'm sorry but you can't."

There's blood pounding at the base of Callie's skull and a thickness to her tongue. She bends her knee, slowly, awkwardly pulling back from Arizona. "I didn't," Callie starts. "I didn't realize I was."

"Well, you are."

"Fine, then, I'll stop." She bites down on her lip. One hand curls into a fist and she shoves it between her thighs to hide it. Her nails dig into her palm.

Arizona takes a sip of her wine. "Thank you," she says, turning so that she's facing Callie for the first time since Sofia went to bed. "Did I just ruin the whole night?"

"No. No, of course not," Callie replies immediately. She nearly places her hand over Arizona's but stops herself just in time. Jesus, has she been doing that all week? "If anything, I did."

"You didn't. Really, it's…" Arizona smiles at her blankly, drawing in a breath as she struggles to find something encouraging to say. It's excruciating. "It doesn't matter."

They stare at each other, matching expressions of embarrassment on their faces. Both of them wishing they were anywhere but here.

Stubborn and determined to act like everything is okay, Arizona decides to stay and make clumsy small talk and doesn't leave for another hour.

Callie keeps waiting for it to get less awkward.

It doesn't.

"What did Arizona do this time?" Gloria is standing next to Callie at the nurses' station, tearing pieces off of a blueberry muffin and tossing them into her mouth.

Callie avoids making contact by staring straight ahead. "How do you know it was Arizona?"

Gloria gives her a look. "You're doing the face."

"I have a face?"

"You have a face."

"Damnit." Callie rests one elbow on the forearm of her other arm, pinching the bridge of her nose. She squeezes her eyes shut. "She didn't do anything. It was me this time."

Gloria raises her eyebrows like she's surprised Callie was able to admit that. "What did you do this time, then?"

"Apparently, I have boundary issues," Callie pouts. "Also everything she does royally pisses me off even when it shouldn't—" she ticks off her fingers as she speaks, counting one for each point "— and I kind of lost it on her last week for no reason. Well, I had a reason, but it was…" she shakes her head. Shuts that down before she can even start. "Actually we kind of… keep losing it on each other. Except, not recently. Which is where the boundary issues come in."

"What do you think that does for you?" Gloria asks carefully. With deliberate slowness. She holds out a piece of muffin for Callie.

Callie takes it. "What?"

"I mean, you wouldn't do it if it wasn't scratching some sort of itch, right?" She watches Callie's face for a reaction before continuing. "People don't do things that don't serve them. So what's your goal here, Callie? What's the point?"

What is Callie's goal here?

She wants Sofia to have a better life. She wants stability for her daughter, she wants Sofia to have peace. But peace for Sofia means peace with Arizona.

Callie can't help but think that peace with Arizona is the worst thing that could ever happen to her.

At least when Arizona is angry, she's present. It's the most physical thing in the world to have Arizona, sharp-eyed and judgmental and unsugared where she's usually tooth rotting. To have Arizona at her worst is to at least know Callie has her. Maybe that's why they poke at each other constantly— to prove they still know where all the soft spots are.

Her anger is the only part of Arizona that Callie can recognize every time. It's the only version of her that is entirely known to Callie, the only time Callie doesn't have to guess what she's thinking. The singular bit of Arizona that Callie still gets to sink her teeth into, which is an ugly thing to recognize in herself so suddenly.

For a long time, after the crash, the anger was the only Arizona left over. It was all Callie had, and now she can't stop chasing after it.

It's digging her thumb into a bruise, the pain dull and well-known. Comforting because she'd done it to herself.

And when she thinks about it like that, it makes her feel evil. This is what she's ruining her daughter's childhood over? The chance to provoke her ex-wife just to prove she still can? Because it's familiar, because she's convinced herself that this is the only way to reach Arizona at all?

"Oh my God," Callie says. "You're right."

Gloria pops the last bit of her breakfast muffin into her mouth. "I usually am."

Callie huffs, shoves her friend. Then she lowers her voice seriously. "No, I mean it. You're completely right." She turns, placing her patient charts in front of the cute nurse who's always flirting with her with a smile. "I have to go."

"What? Where?" Gloria demands.

She shrugs casually, already heading for the nearest exit. "I have to go find Arizona."

"Now?" Gloria calls after her. Callie doesn't answer.

She finds Arizona in the lobby being mobbed by fellows and construction workers and god knows who else, each of them scrambling to get a piece of the magic.

Or, more likely, most of them trying to get something signed— but to Callie she is absolutely, unquestionably magical. It's like now that she knows where the resentment comes from, a fog has cleared. For the first time in a long time, she sees Arizona.

Arizona moves with an ease about her now. The extension of an arm, the breathtaking, lazy lean of her body against the counter taking weight off of her prosthetic. She can laugh with her whole body and not worry about falling. It's shocking to see her move without thinking about it, how her body has grown into an instinctual thing again.

Callie had known that things were coming together at the Center. They'd gotten started lining up benefactors and finalizing the staff and taking on a few preliminary patients. When Callie hadn't been looking, they'd figured it out.

So had Arizona. Somehow Callie didn't notice her becoming herself again. Hadn't paid enough attention as this new Arizona took her first, shuddering gasps of life. Now it pours off of her, filling up Callie's throat and running straight down into her lungs. Now it's impossible to miss.

She looks like herself again.

Arizona glances in her direction and her smile stutters. And, oh, Callie hates that. She hates that Arizona stops smiling when she enters a room.

"What are you doing here, Callie?" Arizona asks.

That urge to bite back twitches, but Callie shoves it down. That's not what she's here for. "Can we talk?"

She walks Callie to the back corner of the lobby, where it still smells faintly of sawdust and there are tiny paint splatters on the windows. It's incredible how quickly a building can go from nothing to something— fast enough that it can look finished and still carry scars from the changing. Stretchmarks. Arizona stands intentionally far from Callie.

Callie can't figure out where to put her hands. She doesn't even know what she's planning to say. What ends up escaping is, "I forgive you."

"Excuse me?"

"That came out wrong," Callie backtracks. She stumbles over her words. "I just mean— God, please, for once in your life, Arizona, please just meet me where I am." Arizona glances away from Callie for a second, tight-jawed. Then she nods. "Thank you," Callie sighs. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm done with all of it. The anger, the, the pain, everything. I'm letting go. I don't care about the cheating, I don't care about any of it. I forgive you, Arizona."

Arizona's eyes flicker back to Callie. She actually looks a little hurt. "You… forgive me."

"Yes."

"You don't care anymore."

"Yes." Callie grins at her, not grasping why this isn't a good thing for Arizona too. "It's over, I'm over it."

Arizona searches Callie's face for… something. Whatever it is, she doesn't seem to find it.

"Am I supposed to say thank you?" Arizona says. Callie can feel her eyes getting wide and hurt. Arizona's face softens, looks a little guilty. She shakes her head. "Okay. Okay. I'm happy that you forgive me."

"Are you? Because this doesn't seem like…"

"I miss you, okay? Is that what you want to hear?" Arizona crosses her arms in front of her chest, holding her own shoulder protectively. "It's great that you're moving on, it's really great. But I don't get why you need to tell me about it."

"Wait, I don't— I thought that you were—"

"That I was, what? Over it too?" Arizona laughs bitterly. Callie honestly can't believe how much she misjudged the situation, how bad she is at reading Arizona. "Look, I'm really busy. There's… I have responsibilities now. Is there anything else?"

Callie gapes at her. "No. There's nothing else."

Arizona takes a step away before pausing again, looking anywhere but Callie. It's a terrible, horribly honest moment of vulnerability from a woman who regularly locks all of her emotions behind a thick wall of sunshine. It's brutal. Her eyes are getting more and more red.

"I know you want me to be happy about this. Trust me, Callie, I wish I was happy, too," she says, sounding a little breathless. There's almost an apology in her voice. "But I can't be what you want me to be. I can't, I can't breathe around you, I can't think, so, go. Please, just go. I'll have Liz walk you out."

Arizona brushes past her, and Callie can see her pointing a short, black haired woman in Callie's direction.

The woman shuffles over to Callie. Ushers her towards the door with a hand on her shoulder and a serene, non-threatening expression. Callie cannot believe that any of that just happened. She's still stuck in the moment right before Arizona spoke, so confused that she lets herself be guided towards the exit without questioning it.

Just before they get to the door, the woman stops. She flicks open the latch on her metal clipboard, searching around in there for a second before pulling out a pamphlet. It has Arizona and Herman's faces on it along with some truly mediocre graphic design.

"Robbins-Herman appreciates your continued support," Liz hands the pamphlet to Callie. Callie gets the sense that she doesn't like her very much. "We hope to see you again."

Callie shakes her head, mouth slightly open. Dazed. "Thank you?"

Liz dips her head politely in response. "You're welcome. Have a nice day!"

Callie ends up on the street corner, hailing a cab home. Thinking about how that definitely went differently in her head.

Notes: Reviews mean so much to me as a writer :) I love hearing from everyone.

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