AN: Hey guys, I'm super sorry I left you hanging and waiting with a cliffhanger. That wasn't my intention. I've started this story to challenge myself, to only have Arizona's thoughts, feelings, whatever. But with every chapter I find it harder not to have Callie's side and inner monolouges as well. I will continue the story how I started it, and I will finish it. It just might take me a little longer to update sometimes... so, just stay with me?

Thank you guys for reading!

Suddenly waking up as a strong surge of pain shoots through my left thigh, followed by the pounding in my head, I try to get my breathing and racing heart under control. Geez, that was a bad dream. Like, really bad. The worst you had in quite a while. So real. And why are you sitting on the damn ground, Robbins? It takes me a moment to realize that I am in fact not in my room, that the floor beneath me is too cold and hard and that the agonizing sting in my leg is not the distant memory of an awful dream, but the harsh reality. There was a shooter. My eyes snap open as it hits me. People screaming. My cellphone on the floor, shattered to pieces. More gunshots. Coming face to face with a freaking shooter. The pain in my leg until everything around me went black.

Looking down, I see that my jeans is covered in blood. "Shit." Where did it hit me? I check my leg. There's no exit wound. I've seen a lot of medical shows and documentaries to understand that the bullet must still be inside my thigh. And there is so much blood. "Shit shit shit." As I press my hands over the wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding as best as possible, dizziness creeps up on me. Adrenaline, shock and the blood loss are fighting inside me. Stay awake, Arizona. Stay awake. But it seems like I can't, I'm almost fading. My head spins, my eyes become heavy. Nobody knows I'm in here. If I don't draw attention, I'll might bleed to death before someone will find me. Keep it together, Robbins. I'm not leaving this world before I get the chance to tell Callie how I feel about her.

Not knowing whether the shooter is still around or not, I still take the chance and reach for the door handle, trying to pull myself up with its help. My hand, wet and bloody from covering my thigh, slips and I crash back onto the floor, hearing my own voice as I cry out in pain. "Damn it. Come on!" Once again pushing myself up while not putting too much weight on my left leg, I pull myself into a standing position just as the sound of another three guns being fired reaches my ears. Fuck. Is he still out there? How long have you been out, A? And then I can hear it again.

BANG BANG

Losing my balance, I fall forward, crashing headfirst against the hard frame of the door. The second my forehead collides with the sharp corner, I hiss out and slide down onto the floor again. Before blackness welcomes me like an old friend, my last thought is Callie. Beautiful, kind, amazing Callie.

"Oh God, she's waking up", I can hear my mother's worried voice as I slowly come back to my senses, groaning in pain as I try to move. Shit. Why is there so much pain? With my eyes still closed, I don't know where I am, but I can smell that I am not at home nor at Callie's. The scent is unfamiliar, kinda sterile. There's always the delicious smell of awesome food filling my parents' house from whatever momma makes. And Callie's loft smells like her, like home. Where am I? "Arizona? Honey, can you hear me? Come on, open those eyes."

"Barbara, the doctor said not to force her. She hit her head real bad and she has just gone through surgery", my father says calmly and in a low voice, close to whispering but not quiet enough to call it that. "She'll wake up when her body is ready."

My body is ready. But wait. Surgery? What the heck are they talking about? And what is covering my head? Well, whatever it is, it does explain why you feel like you were run over by a herd of zebras. Finally I manage to let my eyes flutter open and I am immediately blinded by the fluorescent lighting coming from the ceiling. It's so bright in here and added to my vision which is a little blurry, it's hard to make out where I am. But after a few seconds have passed, I can see my parents standing close to me. Whoa, you actually are in a hospital bed, Arizona. "M-om?", I ask, my voice coming out super raspy. When was the last time I had something to drink or to eat? As if sensing this, my mother holds a cup filled with – what looks like – water and a straw in it against my lips. Taking a few sips, I let the cool liquid sooth my throat. That feels like heaven. "Mom, where am I?"

"Don't you remember, sweetie?", she asks, blue eyes identical to mine staring at me, but I am still drowsy and it feels as if there's a blank page in my head. When I slowly shake my head, my parents fill me in on what has happened, giving me every information they got from the news while waiting for me to be wheeled out of surgery and to wake up. It comes back to me and I cannot believe I am the victim of a madman on a rampage. It's crazy. And scary. And I honestly don't think I am comprehending all of it right now. It's just so surreal. Things like this happen way too often, but you never think you will experience such a traumatic event until you actually live through the nightmare. "They had to extract the bullet and stitched up your head as well while you were under anesthetic. We were all so worried, sweetie", my mother concludes and squeezes my hand just as the door swings open and a certain brunette actress walks in, carrying at least two flower bouquets and a big stuffed teddy bear.

My dad puts his arm around my mother and winks at me, "We'll leave the two of you alone for a bit. Callie, I trust you don't put any stress on my daughter? She needs to rest. And don't let her move too much, the doctor said she has to be cautious with her concussion. Come on, Barb, I want some coffee." So that's why your head hurts.

"Of course not, Sir", she answers immediately and smiles at me before she puts the gifts down on the table close to the bed. "I don't want her to be in pain." I have no idea what happened while I was in surgery or whenever Callie got here, but my dad obviously likes her. Memo to yourself, ask your girlfriend what she said to your father. The brunette grabs a chair and pushes it closer to the bed before sitting down and taking my hand in hers when we are alone. Relief is detectable on her face, just like it was on my parents' faces. "I'm so glad that you're alive. When I saw it on the news and couldn't reach you, I just had to make sure you're okay. Well... as okay as you can be with a bullet in your leg. How did that even happen?"

Her thumb strokes over the back of my hand and her eyes have never averted from my gaze. Her rambling is so adorable – which usually isn't a word I use to describe Callie – but it is in fact one of the cutest things I ever had the pleasure to witness. Telling her what I remember, I watch as horror washes over her face and a few gasps leave her gorgeous lips. "I'll be alright", I tell her and give her a full-dimpled smile. Yes, I am in a lot of pain right now. But it could be worse, couldn't it? I mean, I could be dead, so I am more than okay with being in pain. I wonder who got me out of the auditorium? I thought I was alone in that room. "When can I leave the hospital? They don't want me to stay over night, do they?", I ask.

There's a sudden sympathy in her eyes and I already know the answer before a single word is spoken. "The doctor said he wants you to stay at least one night. You have a concussion from when you hit your head and he wants to check the stitches in the morning, see if everything looks good. He may discharge you tomorrow, baby. So, if everything goes well, it's just one night. It's probably for the better. No dealing with the world outside for another day. And I promise you I'll stay until the nurses kick me out. I'll be at the hotel for the night and then I'll be back first thing tomorrow morning."

"Good", I nod. "I need to get a new cellphone as soon as possible. Mine is irreparably broken... I think?" At least that's what it sounded like as it crashed to the ground. And I didn't pick it up anyway, so it's either still somewhere on school property, or in the Nirvana of dead cellphones.

Leaning closer, soft lips connect with my own and I sigh into the kiss, smiling when she doesn't pull away immediately, but lets the contact linger for a few seconds. I miss those lips. Whenever I am not with her, I miss everything about her. Her perfume, her looks she gives me, her laughter, her lips, the scent of her hair. Just, everything. Eventually pulling back and brushing her hand through my hair, she says, "Don't worry about that."

"O-kay", I reply with a yawn, suddenly feeling super tired and exhausted. Probably the aftermath of everything that has happened today, and the stress my body has already gone through. I want to fight it, but Callie tells me to get some rest and lowers the upper part of the mattress a bit to make it more comfortable for me. Before I fall into a deep slumber, the last thing I hear is her voice, promising me she'll still be here when I wake up again. Too tired to answer anymore, I just listen to her voice. It's soothing, and warm, and I hear every word she says until sleep takes over.

When I wake up again, the ache in my head feels noticeably less strong than it was before I fell asleep. It's still pounding like crazy, but the pain in my thigh probably outweighsmy throbbing forehead. Can I have something against the pain, please? "You're still here", I whisper sleepily as I open my eyes and find my girlfriend still – or again? - sitting in the uncomfortable looking plastic hospital chair, reading a book. She looks utterly gorgeous doing something so simple and my mind readily jumps to visions of a future together with her, with both of us lying in bed and reading books before going to sleep after a long day of work. "You're beautiful", I breathe out and stare at her lips as they twitch upwards into a magical smile.

"Thank you", she replies and blushes a little. It's rare. Usually her natural tan covers reddening cheeks, but under the bright light of the ceiling lamp, it is visible. I like it. Scratch that, you love it, Arizona, I correct myself. Because it's an effect I have on her. Placing the book on the bedside table next to the two vases filled with flowers – she must have done that while I was asleep – she moves closer. "You're just as beautiful yourself." And within the span of a minute, she evens the score, turning my cheeks a deep shade of red with just her words. Even though I know I'm not pretty right now, with my hair bloody and a band aid covering my forehead, she makes me feel like the most beautiful person on earth. "You know you didn't have to get shot, right? If you want to see me, you can just say so. I would hop on my dad's private jet within a heartbeat", she jokes but goes back to being serious real quickly. "How do you feel? Are you in pain?"

Moving my leg and head a bit, I groan out. Yep, more pain. "It's... uncomfortable", I reply. You're a liar, Arizona. It's not exactly lying, though. It's downplaying the truth so I don't sound like a wimp or a cry-baby. At least, that's what I tell myself. But yeah, I could honestly need a dose of whatever they can give me. And soon. Or I might actually start to cry. But wait. Private jet?! I know Callie comes from a very wealthy family but that is definitely something I have to ask her about. Not now. It's not a conversation we need to have in a hospital room where there are people passing by or coming to the duffle bag that sits by the second plastic chair as I sit up just a little bit, I ask, "What's that?"

Before Callie replies, she helps me to sit up straighter than before and fluffs up the pillow so I can sink back into it. "Your parents brought some clothes for you while you were asleep. Whatever you were wearing today, it's bloodstained and they had to cut open the left leg of your pants", she explains. "They told me they'll stop by again around dinner time, which I guess is in an hour or two and-"

But her words are interrupted as a rather young looking doctor in light green scrubs and a lab coat walks in. Is he even allowed to practice medicine? Shut it, Arizona, that's not nice. "Ms... Robbins?", he asks, checking the charts as he walks further into the room. "I'm doctor Renner and I was ordered to check you pupillary reflex and get back to the neuro surgeon, see if we need to run more tests or if discharging you tomorrow is still an option." While speaking, he has barely looked up from the charts in his hands. He seems nervous. "Are you feeling any nausea?" Shaking my head in response, I let him check my eyes with the little flashlight. "Any pain?"

I nod. It's getting worse with every passing moment. "So, what's the damage, doc?", I ask, choosing humor to cover it up. "Please tell me I can leave tomorrow if the stitches look okay." Feeling Callie squeeze my hand, I relax a little. But I really don't want to stay in the hospital longer than necessary.

For the first time since entering the room – aside from the few minutes he flicked his flashlight to and from my eyes – Dr. Renner looks at me when he answers, "Well, I still have to show the results to the on call neuro surgeon, but everything looks good to me. The concussion will most likely cause a headache for the next few days, but your eyes react just as they should. I'll send someone in for the pain in a bit. Have a good day, Ms. Robbins."

And before I can even wonder whether he does not know who my girlfriend really is because his nose was stuck in countless of medical books over the last years, or if he was just a respectful human being, the door flies open again and my best friend walks in, "What the hell, A! I was worried sick about you. I called you a million times and only got your voice mail. It took ages to catch your mother on the land line to find out where you are and that you are still alive but got freaking shot. And then I had to elbow my way through a crowd of people just outside of the hospital. Seriously, you could have- whoa!" She stops dead in her tracks, finally noticing Callie sitting next to me.

Staring at Teddy for a few seconds and then looking at Callie who presses her lips tightly together so she doesn't start to laugh, I try very hard to hold it in as well. It's not a funny situation. If the roles were reversed, I would be worried like crazy about my best friend as well. Frankly though, her appearance is pretty comical right now, with her hair disheveled and her clothes wet from the pouring rain.

The beautiful brunette rises from the chair and holds her hand out to introduce herself as my girlfriend. Teddy is still dumbfounded, even as she runs her fingers through her damp hair, trying to fix it as best as she can. It takes her a moment before she snaps out of it. I get it though; I think my first reaction to standing so close to Callie wasn't any different. Yup, her sweet smelling perfume hypnotized you. Not to mention her beautiful deep brown eyes and her megawatt smile. Those curves. Her glowing skin. Don't go there right now, Robbins. "Teddy, Arizona's best friend", I hear the other blonde in the room say before she gives the Latina a firm handshake. It looks like she's puffing out her chest too, pretending to be protective of me.

And that's the moment I lose it. Nobody needs to protect me from Callie. "Teds, really?", I ask her incredulously, looking at the ridiculousness she's putting on. The chuckles rip through my whole body, causing me to moan in pain and my face contorts as I move my leg and then my head too fast. "Damn. When will I get something for the pain?"

"Shall I ask a nurse what's taking so long?", Callie offers, even though she just sat down again. She starts to move but I clasp my hand around her wrist and stop her. Yes, I want pain meds, but they will probably make me sleepy again, and I don't want to fall asleep again. Not yet. So I tell her to wait. "Okay."

"So, what's with the crowd outside?", I ask, breathing through the pain. If I don't concentrate on it, if I can distract myself somehow, I can handle it a little longer. And a crowd outside of the hospital is definitely something that has the power to keep my mind occupied. "Are they here because of the shooting?"

"Or because of us", Callie cautiously chimes in and I stiffen for a moment, immediately thinking about the stunt Stephanie pulled this morning. Can it be? Are they really here because of us? It's a possibility, Arizona, I remind myself. "I'm not saying they are, Arizona", she instantly tries to comfort me. I am still getting used to people knowing about us. And you don't really know if they know who you are. "I'm just saying they could be. Paparazzi work as fast as any other journalist - or maybe even faster. Just because they make money with juicy stories doesn't mean they don't do their work correct and fast."

Teddy puts the bag that contains my clothes and hopefully toiletries on the ground and sits down on the chair. "Whatever their reason is, there's also a line of doctors and nurses shooing them away whenever they try to enter the hospital. I had to convince them that I am here to visit a friend and not a story-hungry journalist. I guess the worried look and the lack of a camera helped", she chuckles and Callie's laughter echoes off the walls right after.

After that, we fall into an easy conversation. It's really good to see my girlfriend and best friend seeming to get along really well. Not that I would have expected anything else. Callie is an amazing person, very humble, kind and lovable. And Teddy, even with her bad habit of talking faster than her brain thinks sometimes, is just as amazing.

Finally, a nurse comes in and puts another dose of morphine – that's what she says at least – through the IV connected to the back of my hand and it doesn't take long before it kicks in. My eyelids become heavy and it gets harder to follow the conversation until I eventually give in and succumb to the fatigue. Your body probably needs the rest, A.

So, Teddy met Callie. And is the crowd of paparazzi there because of Arizona or because of the shooting? What do you think?