Okay, housekeeping:
This is calzona endgame! They will be getting back together... eventually. Chapters will continue to go up on Sundays for now. Also I got a comment asking if there would be a shooting in this fic because of the title- absolutely not. There will be no mass traumas of any kind.
Arizona arrives at the Robbins-Herman Center for Women early, over-prepared, and excited. It's a modest, blue building with glass doors and small windows, smaller than any commercial hospital's. She loves it on principle. It's hers. Well, hers, and a 60-something year old blind woman with legs longer than anyone has any business having. Theirs.
Arizona feels something settle in her as she walks into the lobby for the first time, only for that sense of peace to shatter upon impact— specifically, the impact of a sledgehammer with a wall to her left.
"Oh my God!" Arizona jumps, covering her heart with her hand. There's a man with a hammer taking out the wall. He stares at her. She stares at him.
"Robbins!" Herman greets her from a semicircular front desk built into the center of the lobby. A short, black haired woman stands to her right, and a very tall, very fit, very young man to her left, holding two cups of coffee. "That you screaming like a little boy?"
"Yes?" Arizona calls. She leans her whole body away from the construction happening barely a few feet away. "I think?"
"Don't mind them. The place needed some renovations, and hey, we have the money," Herman grins, extending her hand silently in the general direction of the young man. He startles a little, then very carefully pushes one of the cups into her palm. A personal assistant, Arizona guesses.
"Actually, you don't." The short woman cuts in, reaching across Herman for the other coffee and flashing the man a quick, polite smile. "Your grant is going to run out at some point. We should be minimizing costs right now, while we still aren't making any income."
"You say the sweetest things. Robbins, come here," Herman motions to Arizona who crosses the room quickly, giving the construction a wide berth. She smiles at everyone with her most charming smile, the one she mostly saves for young children and pretty women.
"Liz, Arizona Robbins. Arizona, Liz Tanaka." Herman says, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. "Liz is our office manager. Robbins is on the sign. Or, at least she will be once we have a sign."
"We do have a sign." Liz says.
"Oh, well. Nobody told me that."
"I told you that."
Liz clutches her clipboard, frazzled, eyeing Arizona like she isn't quite sure what to make of her. Well, Arizona is used to that. She holds out her hand for Liz to shake, and notices the barely-there lift to Liz's eyebrows when Arizona's handshake is firm and strong. Point, Arizona.
"I'm Drew," says the man. He waves at her with a passive, helpful smile. Like a large puppy. Nicole always did have a sixth sense for these sorts of things.
Herman jerks her thumb behind her shoulder at him. "Right, that's Drew. He reads all of my paperwork aloud."
"It's nice to meet you," Arizona smiles again, wishing, for a second, that she could still bounce on the balls of her feet.
Nicole and Drew give Arizona a tour of the building while Liz stays back to do whatever it is that Liz seems to be perpetually stressed out about— and Arizona has only known her for fifteen minutes.
A classroom, an examination room, a small kitchenette, and two offices. They lead her through Nicole's, and then her own. Arizona hums thoughtfully as she surveys the space. She'll have to paint the walls something brighter, buy a nice desk and a rolling chair, but the natural light is good. Calming.
"Just couldn't resist giving yourself the bigger office, huh?" she says, glaring at Nicole, who can't see it, and then Drew to make herself feel better about not being able to glare at Nicole.
Nicole groans. "Oh, hush. I bought a couch for us to drink on."
Arizona feels her phone vibrate with a new text. Callie.
Feel like grabbing coffee? We can discuss getting Sofia re-enrolled in school.
Arizona bites her lip, typing out a quick sure.
Great! I know the best local place.
Callie's promise of good coffee turns out to be a hipster coffee shop that makes Arizona want to roll her eyes. It's so classically Callie to love a place like this for being quaint, with its imported dark roasts and for-sale art hanging on the walls. Jesus. They even sell $25 t-shirts that say "not your mother's corporate chain". The best local place. Okay, Calliope.
Callie does a good job of pretending not to be an heiress most of the time, but Arizona knows her the way blood knows a vein— instinctually and without hesitation.
Arizona finds Callie seated at a small table up against the window, face half hidden by the rim of her mug, a strand of hair falling out of her bun. She was watching the door intently, but her eyes jump away the second Arizona comes in.
"Hey," Arizona takes a deep breath, then slides into the seat across from Callie.
"Hi," Callie says, pushing a cup towards Arizona. "I hope you don't mind, I ordered for you."
Arizona feels herself making a face and watches as Callie's expression closes off. Damnit. She reaches out, gently brushing her fingertips against Callie's wrist. "It's fine," she says. She tilts her chin down, meeting Callie's eyes with a small smile. Callie's shoulders relax.
A beat passes, unnaturally long and silent.
"Things were weird yesterday, right? I didn't imagine that? Things were weird," Callie blurts out.
Arizona sighs. "You didn't imagine it."
She takes a long sip from her coffee to stall and it's perfect. Exactly the way she would've ordered it for herself. She resents that, a little. She also appreciates it. It's been so long since she's been known the way Callie knows her, sometimes she forgets how it felt. Arizona sets her cup carefully on the table.
"I was tired, I mean, I was exhausted, and Alex got married, and then April got married, or I guess they got married at the same time— to other people— and then there you were. You. For the first time in over a year," Arizona sighs again. "So, yeah. It was weird for me too."
Callie gives her a fluttering, anxious smile, coffee cup clutched in both hands. Her nails make little indentations in the cardboard. "I was so excited to see you."
"I know," Arizona says.
Callie digs her nails into her cup harder. "I know you do." Another beat passes before Callie speaks again, her voice quiet. "We're gonna make this work, aren't we? Co-parenting again, after everything… we have to make this work for Sofia. We can't keep doing this to her."
Irritation shoots through Arizona immediately, and she knows Callie can see it. She can see the moment Callie realizes she's said the wrong thing, see that Callie regrets it immediately, but it's already been said. Callie won't take it back. And somehow that makes it all worse— that Callie could regret something and still never apologize for it.
"I'm not the one who dragged her out here in the first—" she snaps.
Callie cuts her off with a raised hand. "Arizona! Please."
Arizona settles back into her chair, crosses her ankle over her prosthetic to resist the urge to stamp her foot under the table. She takes a deep breath.
"We will make it work," she says through gritted teeth.
The Robbins-Herman Center for Women is scheduled to start interviewing fellowship candidates after Arizona's lunch break. Herman wanted her in on this, wanted Arizona to be part of the process, so she'd pushed their start date to a time when Arizona could be there. It was surprisingly thoughtful.
Arizona walks back into the Center to find Nicole seated behind a gray fold-out table in the middle of the half-constructed lobby. It's a strange, intimidating picture for anyone who comes in. There are translucent tarps strewn across the floor along the wall and the smell of sawdust lingers in the air. A single plastic chair sits across from the main table. Arizona can tell from the entrance that it's deeply, deeply uncomfortable.
"Did you—" Arizona pauses, trailing off for a second comically— "did you ask Drew to make this place as freaky as possible on purpose?"
Nicole freezes before apparently deciding she doesn't care about being caught. "Yes."
She drops her purse on the floor underneath the table, dropping into the second interviewer's chair next to Nicole. God, this week has been hellish. Arizona straightens herself, pulling the stack of— mostly lackluster— applications towards her.
"Alrighty, then. Send in the ducklings."
Arizona grins at Nicole excitedly. Maybe her business partner will hate this process but Arizona is excited, no matter how tired she is. She loves teaching. She loves the new generation of upcoming surgeons, she loves their passion, she loves—
Well. That one isn't exactly promising.
Actually, their first candidate is downright slimy. And he swaggers entirely too much for someone who is entirely underqualified.
Within seconds of sitting down, he begins checking Arizona out. A tits guy, apparently.
The man keeps intermittently clasping his hands and then spreading his palms like a second-rate motivational speaker. Towards the end of the interview he says, "Ladies, I'll be honest here. I need a fellowship. It doesn't really matter where, I just need one. And, hey, I've always been good with chicks."
"Mr. Wells, we understand that… completely," Arizona chokes back a giggle. "We'll be in touch."
They manage to wait until he's out of the room before bursting into laughter. Somehow. Arizona snorts, clutching Nicole's arm while her mentor swatts her frantically, wheezing and swaying.
"Please, please tell me he uses too much hair gel. He just sounds like he uses too much hair gel," Nicole says. She presses a hand over her chest and takes long, calming breaths.
Arizona splutters, "He did!" which sends them back into a fit of giggles.
"Oh, oh," Arizona groans, covering her face with her hands. "I don't know if I can do this. We should just shut the Center down now."
"In your dreams," Nicole responds.
The other interviews go more smoothly, but some aren't better by much. Arizona only ends up using their new trick— Arizona would tap on the table with the back of her pen— twice, once with a candidate named Leah Harper, and the other with one who just scares the hebeejeez out of her. Nicole ignores her both times, but at least Arizona knows she's been heard. If not listened to.
She and Nicole hole up in the executive's office after they're finished for the day on opposite ends of Nicole's couch, Arizona rifling through the applications and Nicole giving her input. Nicole has her legs stretched out, taking up almost the entire space. Arizona is forced to have her legs draped over the back of the couch uncomfortably, like a weird, leggy puzzle that she's responsible for piecing together.
"Anna Blythen is a definite yes from me," Arizona says, peering across at Nicole who is playing with the tips of her fingers. Arizona snaps to get her partner's attention. "Look, I even drew a star next to her name!"
Nicole grimaces. "Of course you did, she was all peppy. Try to remember, Robbins, that I'm the one who's actually gonna have to teach these kids."
Arizona scowls. "I'll teach them!" she says.
Having a stare off with a blind woman is, in a word, uncomfortable. Losing a stare off to a blind woman is worse.
"I won't fight you on Carter if you don't fight me on Blythen." Arizona says. Nicole looks contemplative, as if this is some big sacrifice on her part instead of Arizona's.
Arizona's jaw drops in outrage and she resists the urge to kick Herman with her very hard, very metal leg. "Oh, come on. Work with me a little bit, at least. I'm not your fellow anymore."
"You'll always be my fellow," she says, like it's a compliment. There's something warm lodged in Arizona's chest that won't come out. "Alright, deal." Nicole agrees. "Honestly, I thought I was gonna have to try harder for Carter. Now, Leah Harper—"
Arizona holds up a hand. "Oh, no. No, no, no. I don't do 'Leah's. Or 'L' names in general, really."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," Arizona repeats. "Plus her recommendations were lackluster and she hasn't been published at all, not even as sixth listed. We can't have lame fellows, Nicole."
Nicole grumbles a bit but doesn't seem too broken up about it. "Fine. How about Garcia?"
Arizona smiles.
Joseph Garcia is young and goofy and has terrible posture. He'd slunk into the room, reminding Arizona immediately of a non-threatening version of the lizard from Monsters Inc, which made her smile because she could already picture Sofia giggling at that joke.
She'd hide behind Arizona's legs, press her face into her thigh and laugh her perfect, angel laugh while he did charts across the room. And on the mornings Arizona brought her into the office she'd look up and ask Mommy, will we see the lizard man today?
Joseph, who'd immediately asked them to please call him Joey, seems like the kind of guy who wouldn't mind being called lizard man as long as it made a kid happy. Arizona likes him.
"Aw, little Joseph. He could work."
Nicole nods decisively and Arizona gathers the applications in a pile, tapping them against the edge of the couch to straighten them out.
Arizona walks out of the building that afternoon, flipping her hair behind her with the back of her hand and running her nail along her hairline, an old habit. She turns back to look at the little building with its little windows one last time. It feels right here in a way nothing has felt right in a long time. Like she could make something permanent for herself, that nobody could take away from her. A future with a steady foundation.
She wonders if she could talk Nicole into window box planters. White— or yellow, maybe— to go with the blue.
Yes. Definitely yellow.
She tucks Sofia into bed later that night, the room painted pink by the lamp on her daughter's nightstand. Arizona brushes a piece of hair behind Sofia's ear and kisses her on the forehead before making to stand up. Sofia grabs Arizona's hand suddenly.
"Why are you and mama my mommies?" Sofia asks.
Arizona stills. She doesn't know what the question is asking, never mind how to answer it, but she knows it's important. That saying the right thing matters. Everything matters to a child. It's all momentous, even as nothing ever is. She wonders if this is the moment Sofia decides that Arizona isn't her real mother, hasn't ever been, is an imposter playing at the role.
"What do you mean, baby?" she asks.
Sofia sits up a little. "Jackson Miller's mommies are his mommies because they love each other and they're married. And Gia's mommy used to be with her daddy and that's when they made her," she says, little eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"But you and mommy don't love each other," Arizona winces. "And two mommies can't make a baby on their own. Plus I used to have a daddy, so why?"
"That's a really big question for such a little miss," Arizona deflects. She takes Sofia's hands in her own, running her thumb against the curve of Sofia's palm soothingly. "Your mama and I— it's complicated. You remember how we used to be married?" Arizona asks, waiting for Sofia to confirm. "Before we were married, we decided to raise you together, we… we wanted to be your mommies together. She chose me, and I chose her, and at that point that was the only thing that mattered. But what really makes us your mommies is how much we love you.
"We both love you so, so much Sofia. Never forget that."
Sofia nods slowly. "Okay. I guess that makes sense."
Arizona kisses her on the forehead again before she leaves the room, making Sofia promise not to stay up too late talking to Mr. Bear.
Then she calls Callie.
Callie answers on the first ring, already taking the sharp breath that means she's going to say the wrong thing.
"We have to make this work." Arizona says before Callie can ruin it. Her voice trembles. "I promise you that I'm going to try. Callie, please, I think we can do it if we just try."
She hears Callie release the air in her lungs, irritation draining out of her like a pricked balloon. "I'll try, too. I promise you that."
"I'm still mad at you," Arizona's eyes start to sting a little. When she touches a fingertip to her cheek it comes back wet. "But I can't keep this up. It's too hard."
"You're right." Callie chuckles bitterly as if to say too hard is an understatement. "Maybe… maybe it won't work out, maybe it'll be a disaster like everything else we do. Maybe we're making a mistake. Hell, knowing us we probably are. But…"
Arizona closes her eyes, finding that when she opens them there are teardrops clinging to her eyelashes. The blur softens the edges of her empty bedroom. New York is so cold. "But?" she asks, pitching her voice up in an attempt to hide away from how much this matters to her. She isn't sure it worked. Actually, she's sure it doesn't.
"I'd rather do it with you than anyone else."
It's so… simple. Completely absolute. Arizona clenches her throat around a sob that Callie can never, never hear.
"Thank you for that," Arizona manages to say.
"I want us to be a team again, Arizona. I mean it."
"Team Mom, huh?" she wipes a hand across her cheeks roughly then lets herself fall back against her mattress. "Are you gonna make t-shirts or should I?"
"I'll make the shirts if you bring snacks."
"Eugh, no deal. You always get out of snack duty."
"You want me to bring the shirts and the snacks? Really?"
Arizona holds her tongue, staring up at her ceiling fan. Wait for it...
"Alright, alright," Callie says finally. "You win."
They stay on the line, not speaking, for a long time after that. Just listening to each other's breathing even out. Arizona switches the call to speakerphone and lets the minutes slip away, sticky salt-tracks drying on her cheeks.
Eventually she hears a click telling her that Callie is gone. Again. She should really be used to that by now.
Notes: I love comments & talking to people! Find me at pearlcages on Tumblr. I'm on Twitter too but y'all scare me on there.