Callie.

Arizona threw open the door before Callie could knock, leaving a tan hand suddenly frozen in mid-air.

Those eyes. Brown, bright, fixed on her face. Those full lips blooming into a smile. Arizona's breath caught in her throat. "Callie?"

Callie stood in front of her, frozen stiff and unblinking as she took Arizona in, feeling her cheeks flush with pleasure. "Hi."

"I. But-," Arizona sputtered, her heart pounding in her ears. "What are you doing here?"

Callie's smile slipped a little. "What…do you mean?"

Arizona shook her head, not understanding. "No. You're not the woman my mom wanted a visit from. What are you even doing in Seattle?"

Realizing there had been some sort of misunderstanding, Callie's eyes turned cloudy. She was still standing outside on the porch, and she shivered when a cool breeze wafted over her.

Noticing the small movement, Arizona let out a defeated sigh. "Come in."

While Arizona hurried upstairs to make an urgent call—to Barbara, Callie assumed, who appeared to have swindled them—Callie ditched her suitcases in the foyer and walked around downstairs. She had, of course, been to Arizona's house before, as a co-parent, but she hadn't had a chance to really look around in quite some time.

It was neater than ever, with everything in its place. The books on the shelves were still organized alphabetically by the author's last name, and the newest The New Yorker was perfectly centered on the coffee table in the living room. She inspected the photographs on the mantel: right in the middle was a photo of her, Arizona, Mark, and baby Sofia. There were a few more of Sofia, one of Arizona with Alex, one of Arizona with Timothy, one of Sofia with Arizona's parents—likely from the summer before, when she'd visited them for two weeks. Callie smiled at the photograph. Sofia's two front teeth had been missing.

Upstairs, on the phone with her mother, Arizona was not smiling. "Mom!" she hissed, working to keep her voice quiet. "Callie is the mystery woman? You lied to me!"

"I didn't lie," Barbara defended. "I said that you'd be driving with someone special to me whom I haven't seen in ages."

"Callie isn't special to you," Arizona insisted.

"Sweetheart, she's like a daughter to me! We talk on the phone almost every week."

"You- What?"

"I didn't lie," Barbara repeated. "You two do click, and now your father and I will get to see her."

"You lied by omission!" Arizona argued, her voice raising in volume. "What are we supposed to do now? She showed up and I was totally blindsided."

"Take your trip," Barbara replied, her tone obnoxiously relaxed. "Take lots of pictures! We'll see you in a week."

As she hung up the phone, Arizona felt herself let out a low growl. She had always been meticulously organized—a huge planner—and this had not been part of her plan. True, she and her ex-wife got along just fine, but spending 24-7 together for a full week was not something they were ready for. Was any former couple really evolved enough to be able to bear that? It was a recipe for disaster. It would bring up too many feelings.

It already is, and you haven't even left yet, she thought to herself. Almost thirty-minutes after seeing Callie outside, and her heart was still pounding. She wanted to hide right there, in her upstairs bathroom, forever, but of course she couldn't. So, after splashing cold water on her face and plastering on a practiced smile, she made her way back downstairs

"Hey, um," Arizona began at the bottom of the steps, before realizing that Callie was nowhere in sight. She moved toward the living room. "Callie?"

"I'm in here."

Arizona walked toward the sound and saw Callie standing by the mantel, her hands shoved awkwardly into her back pockets.

"I was just, um, looking at your family photos."

Arizona offered a little nod.

"How's your mom?"

Arizona looked up at her in surprise.

Callie chuckled. "Thinking back to the look on your face when you saw me, I realized I was the last person you expected to see. Your mom didn't tell you I was coming?"

Arizona pursed her lips. "No. She didn't."

Callie made a face. "She told me that you knew. I thought you…wanted me here."

Arizona's mouth fell open—was there sadness in Callie's voice?—and she hurried to explain. "It's not that I don't want you here. I just…"

Callie waved off her defense. "I know. It wasn't the vacation you had planned. And I realize now that I should have called you directly, but every time I brought it up when we talked, she just said not to worry myself," she rolled her eyes good-naturedly, "…which I now realize was part of the deception."

Arizona couldn't help but smile back. "I know. She's silly. I guess she just wanted to see you and figured that some 'co-parenting bonding' along the way could be fun."

Callie raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's the kind of bonding she hoped we would have."

Arizona's stomach fluttered at the mere idea of quote-unquote bonding with Callie. Stop that, she scolded herself.

"So…should we go?" Callie suggested. "Your mom said the first day's a huge driving day."

"It is," Arizona confirmed. "Is that okay with you?"

Callie nodded. "Sounds great."

An hour into the drive, Callie and Arizona had long ago run out of ideas for small-talk and had fallen into a long, heavy silence.

Arizona's eyes remained fixed decisively on the road in front of her, and Callie looked out the passenger-side window, watching the trees blur by.

Another half-hour passed in silence. Arizona normally would've turned on music, but she didn't want it to bother Callie, if she was enjoying the quiet, and she was too nervous about breaking the silence to ask if Callie was enjoying the quiet.

Less than two feet away, Callie found herself uncomfortable with the silence. Because there she was, sitting beside the woman she used to be able to talk to for hours and hours on end, and now she and Arizona couldn't converse for more than fifteen minutes without running out of things to say. She cleared her throat, finally thinking of something they could talk about. "So, um, what's the plan?"

Arizona turned to look at her, and it made Callie's heart stutter in her chest.

"Like, do you have a plan?" she continued. "Where are we going to stop tonight? Where are we going to stop tomorrow?"

Arizona gestured toward the glove box. "I have the map and plans in there. You're welcome to look. And, of course, we can change the itinerary, if you want. If I'd known you were coming, I would've involved you in the planning earlier." She tried to smile.

Callie smirked. "If you'd known I was coming, you would've taken your chances on a plane."

"You know I can get on a plane," Arizona defended. "That was the plan originally, but then Mom said she had a friend who also hates flying and needed a ride, so…" She trailed off. "So here we are."

"Here we are," Callie repeated.

"Though, you did take a plane to get to Seattle," Arizona realized, "so I guess you can't really hate flying that much."

"I don't like it," Callie insisted. "It just makes me think of Mark and you."

"Oh," Arizona let out in a sarcastic laugh. "How sweet. You hate planes because they make you think of me."

"I didn't mean it like that." Callie sighed in resignation. You just hurt her feelings, Callie. Just say it. It'll make her feel better. "I don't like flying," she repeated, "but, look, your mom said you needed me, so I came."

"I didn't need you," Arizona maintained, attempting to keep her voice light.

Callie bit the inside of her cheek. "Right. You didn't. Because your mom set us up. I didn't know that at the time, though."

Arizona nodded, acknowledging that, really, what Callie had said was sweet. It was a testament to the fact that they were still family, even after everything. Knowing she should say something nice back, she admitted, "For the record, I would fly to New York for you, too. If you needed me."

Callie offered a small smile and then opened the glovebox, pulling out a stack of paper with a header that read TRAVEL PLANS and a map of the US. A line was penciled across it, showing their planned trajectory. "Wow," Callie whistled, "we're going very far south."

"I hope you brought shorts. By the time we get to Texas, breathing is going to feel like inhaling bath-water."

"Oh, good," Callie joked. She looked down at the map, then turned to the travel plans. "We're stopping in Happy Camp, California tonight? I've never heard of it."

"I hadn't either. I know it would've been fun to stop in Portland or to drive all the way to San Francisco on the first day, but Portland was too close and San Francisco was too far. And so I looked this place up, and it looked beautiful. It has a national forest that's over a million acres."

Callie's brows flew up.

"And there have been Big Foot sightings," Arizona grinned.

"Oh, wow. Lucky us," Callie laughed.

"We can always change the plans, if you want," Arizona reminded her. "I've already booked a few places to stay, but they're pretty cheap, and the trip is kind of a vacation, so it should be fun for you, too."

Callie nodded. "I'll let you know."

After Callie turned back to inspect the map, Arizona sneaked a look at her. Her gaze lingered, mesmerized by those dark lashes, those pink lips.

Feeling blue eyes searing into her, Callie looked up. "What is it?"

Arizona hurried her gaze away. "Nothing."

They took a few pit-stops for bathrooms and lunch and dinner, and then finally arrived at their Airbnb a little before seven. All around them, sprawling meadows and sequoias. No buildings, no other human beings. The day was just starting to dim.

"You were right," Callie offered after they'd stepped out of the car, looking around in wonder. "It's gorgeous here."

Arizona smiled, finding herself pleased, for some reason, that Callie liked it.

They each grabbed the suitcase and walked into the quaint cabin. It was small but beautifully decorated, with lots of natural light and two separate bedrooms.

"Do you want to walk a little?" Callie suggested when Arizona walked out of her room. "I've been sitting for like fifteen hours straight, and we should have at least another two hours of light."

Arizona gulped. "Sure." After eight hours of quiet awkwardness in the car that day, she wasn't really eager to extend it. And, yet, she wanted to be with Callie, despite the awkwardness. It had been years since they'd last spent this much time together.

Side-by-side—but not too close to each other—they walked toward the stream babbling behind their cabin, following the length of it.

They walked in silence for a while, taking in the landscape. It was so different from Seattle and New York—no scents of pollution and urine and diesel, no sounds of cars and construction and even people. Instead, grass, wildflowers, and chirping birds.

After a few minutes, Callie found herself looking over at Arizona, wishing she would say something. The blonde's eyes were on the uneven ground as she took careful steps, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. Callie knew that expression well—it meant Arizona was feeling anxious or awkward about something. Me, probably, she realized. She cleared her throat. "What, um. What are you thinking?"

Arizona looked up at her. "Oh. Nothing." And then, immediately, she started worrying her lip between her teeth again.

Callie exhaled an audible sigh.

Arizona looked back over at her with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?"

Arizona offered a little nod. "Of course."

"Come on, Arizona. I know you."

And, just like that, they weren't walking anymore. Stock-still, they faced each other, and Arizona found herself dizzied by the eye contact—how Callie didn't so much look at her but into her, through her.

"You never thought you'd be taking this trip with me," Callie continued. "I'm ruining it for you."

Arizona's expression softened. "You're not ruining anything."

Callie waited.

"Really," Arizona insisted. "I'm…sorry. About this morning. It's just, you were the last person I expected to see at my door."

Callie nodded. "I get it."

"And, you have to admit, it's awkward," Arizona added, trying to smile. "I mean, we're not…close. We put up with each other for Sofia's sake."

Callie's eyebrows flew up. "'Put up' with each other, huh?"

"We're exes, and our divorce wasn't easy," Arizona defended. "More like devastating."

Callie inhaled a deep breath, remembering. "I know."

"And it's not like we've kept up, really, apart from coparenting," Arizona added, "so this just feels…"

"Super weird?"

Arizona's lip quirked up. "So I'm not the only one who feels it."

Callie chuckled. "No, you aren't. It is weird. Weirder than normal, even, for me because I thought you knew we'd be together all along, and weirder than normal for you because you had no idea."

Arizona sensed a little hurt in Callie's voice as she spoke. Callie showed up thinking I wanted her here, she realized. And Arizona had since made it very clear—at least externally—that that was not the case. She couldn't help but feel a little guilty. It wasn't that she was unhappy about seeing Callie, exactly. It was a lot more complicated than that.

"But maybe we shouldn't take this trip as exes or co-parents or whatever," Callie continued. "I think if we just take it as…people, and try to ignore the past, it could be fun."

"It's hard to compartmentalize, when it comes to you. But…it's worth a shot," Arizona accepted.

They began walking again, still with ample space between them.

Arizona offered Callie a shy look. "And, for the record, it's nice to see you. It had been a while."

Callie sparkled back at her, her voice playfully accusatory. "You're happy I'm here."

Arizona felt her cheeks flush. "I didn't say that."

Callie grinned, feeling oddly playful after they'd lain everything on the table. "Don't be shy. You can tell me if you missed me."

Arizona glowered at her, which only confirmed Callie's suspicions, and Callie laughed victoriously.

"Well, did you miss me?" Arizona countered.

Callie instantly sobered up, her tone sincere. "Yeah, I kind of did."

Around nine, Callie and Arizona were back in the cabin and changed into sweatpants. Callie was sitting on the couch with her knees tucked into her chest when Arizona walked in from the kitchen.

"Here," Arizona handed her a glass of water and a bottle of Advil before sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

Callie looked at her questioningly.

"You know you get headaches every time the time changes, even if it's just a two-hour difference."

Callie raised an eyebrow. "You remembered that?"

Arizona shrugged, turning away to flip through the guestbook the owner had left on the coffee table, filled with scribbled messages about visitors' positive experiences at the cabin. She wasn't reading any of the words, though. How could she, with Callie sitting beside her, so close that she could smell her?

"It's still kind of early, and it's pretty warm out," Callie offered a minute later. "Do you want to sit outside for a while? I bet you can see tons of stars here."

The air was still, the night muted, as they lay out in the meadow by the cabin, gazing at all the stars in the sky.

"Geez," Callie breathed, "this is unreal." She wasn't used to such a clear sky—what, with the fog and light pollution she'd experienced in Seattle and New York.

Arizona hummed in agreement.

Callie turned to her. "So was Happy Camp everything you'd hoped for?"

"Yeah," Arizona couldn't help but smile as she met brown eyes. "All I knew about it, really, was that it's beautiful. And, even though we're only here a few hours, I think I'd come back for another visit."

Callie licked her lips, her eyes unblinking, taking Arizona in.

"You know," Arizona continued, turning back to the sky, "every time I visit somewhere new—especially somewhere that looks like this—I feel like I'm in a dream, and I'm stuck inside it. But it's okay because that means I'm in a better world."

"It's all the same world," Callie reminded her.

Arizona nodded. "I know. But seeing all these stars and all the three-hundred-year-old trees around us reminds you of how small you are in a way that the city can't. I just feel different here."

"Me, too," Callie admitted. "Softer. More human, maybe."

And there it was. One more reminder of why Arizona had fallen in love with Callie Torres—the woman who had always understood her, the woman she'd always been able to talk to about anything. Above, she made out a few constellations: Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Orion's Belt. "God. It's really pretty."

"Yeah," Callie breathed, her eyes on Arizona's face. "It is." The landscape indeed was making her feel softer and more human. And there was Arizona, soft and human beside her.

Arizona turned and caught Callie staring—those brown eyes unbearably tender—and her expression immediately hardened. "Don't do that."

Callie's brows lowered. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Yes." Arizona turned back to the sky. "It's like you're looking into my soul. Like you can see right through me."

Callie chuckled. "I can't see through you."

"You can. It's frustrating."

"I was just looking at you," Callie assured her. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this before, but you're pretty hard to read. Your walls are so thick that they should call you 'Bomb Shelter,'" she tried to joke.

Arizona turned onto her side to face Callie straight-on. "There's nothing wrong with bomb shelters, Callie. They protect you."

Callie mirrored her position, tucking her arm under her head. "And what do you need protection from right now?"

Arizona shrugged.

"I'm the only person here."

Arizona looked at her for a long moment. "I know."

After a minute, Callie understood. "Arizona," she exhaled, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Arizona was silent, just looking and looking at her. They were close enough that they were exchanging breath. Every time Callie opened her mouth, Arizona caught a whiff of her minty toothpaste.

"I was excited all week," Callie confessed, "to see you. To spend time together."

Arizona felt flowers bloom in her stomach. She felt her whole body start to vibrate.

"Now it's your turn," Callie challenged.

Arizona's eyebrows knit together. "My turn to what?"

"To tell me something," Callie clarified. "To take down one of those walls."

Arizona shook her head. "It's not that easy."

Callie reached out, slowly, and tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, careful to never make contact with actual skin, as much as she wanted to.

The touch was almost too light to feel at all, and yet Arizona's breath caught in her throat, the sound loud enough for her to know that Callie heard her breathing shift, too.

Callie pulled her hand away and, even after, she could still feel her fingers tingling. She felt like she was tingling everywhere. "Come on. Tell me what you're thinking."

Arizona looked at her in silence for so long that Callie had all but given up that she would say anything. But then, finally, her voice came out solemn: "I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met."

Callie's face fell slack, her expression open and vulnerable, caught off-guard by the obvious reverence in Arizona's unguarded words. Arizona was talking about more than just her physical features. It was clear that Arizona was talking about her, to the core. Almost inaudibly, she asked, "Really?"

Arizona nodded in conformation. "Really." And then she wasn't thinking anymore—just leaning in, slowly, closing the space between them, Callie doing the same. Her heart was in her throat. How long had it been since she'd last been this aware of her body, her shallow breaths, her shaking hands, the thrumming inside her? A hair's breadth away, she forced her gaze away from Callie's lips, meeting brown eyes to silently ask for permission.

Callie's silently granted it as her hand came up, cupping a pink cheek, her thumb smoothing soft skin.

Arizona leaned in, her own hand finding the nape of a neck, pulling Callie's face to hers. She pressed her mouth to the corner of full lips, the contact chaste, almost feather-light.

Callie shuddered, her whole body vibrating. She wanted to take Arizona into her, to taste every inch of her skin. "Arizona, I-"

But she didn't get the chance to finish whatever she was going to say, because Arizona had pressed her lips firmly against hers. Callie gasped into the kiss, her mouth falling open just enough for Arizona to deepen it, sucking hard on a full bottom lip, then dipping her tongue into a mouth that tasted like home.

Callie returned the kiss with equal fervor, nibbling on a pink lip, her tongue pressed to Arizona's. "God." Her hand moved from cheek, to neck, to shoulder, to back.

As Callie's hand rubbed up and down her back, a sob caught in Arizona's throat. This is what she'd always feared. This: the terror of being touched—the terror of wanting it too much, of shattering when it finally happened. And, now, there was Callie's hand running over her spine, so gentle, so devoted, and the touch was too tender to trust.

Momentarily caught up in her own thoughts, Arizona's body, too, got distracted, and it was enough for Callie to notice, her own movements slowing and then stilling altogether. She pulled away to look at the blonde and instantly saw the storms brewing in those blue eyes. "Hey," she pushed Arizona's hair out of her face, "what's wrong?"

"I, um, suddenly just got really cold," Arizona offered, extracting herself from Callie without another word. It wasn't even a total lie because, as soon as she stood up, she instantly missed Callie's warmth. "I'm gonna go in."

"Oh. Okay." Callie stood up, her voice coming out quiet and unsure. "Let's go in."

Arizona turned toward the cabin without another word, walking so fast that Callie had to rush to keep up.

Inside, Arizona could barely look at her. "Um. Is it okay if we leave at eight tomorrow?"

Callie nodded, biting back all her sudden fear. What the hell just happened?

"Okay," Arizona tried to smile. "I guess I'll…talk to you in the morning."

Callie knew that Arizona just meant that as a casual turn-of-phrase, but she chose to take the words literally. That was the only thing she could do to assure that she might sleep that night. "Yeah. Tomorrow, we'll talk." We'll be stuck in the car together for hours. Arizona will have to talk then.

Arizona's face contorted into a frown, clearly anxious. Callie wished she could comfort her. And, more than anything, she wished she knew what she was thinking.

"Goodnight, Callie."

"Goodnight, Arizona."

Each woman went into her respective room and shut the door.