A/N

I know people were unhappy with me reappearing and then just finishing Seattle's Finest off in one chapter. I don't like disappointing people, which is why I came back to finish it (and I totally get that unfinished stories are really infuriating!) but right now I'm just not feeling the inspiration to carry it on. Maybe it'll come back to me.

In the meantime, this is a storyline that I've had playing around in my head for ages now and thought I should finally actually start writing it. It's inspired by a few different films, stories etc but this specific storyline is my own. I know there are other stories out there where Calzona are reunited after years apart, but hopefully I can bring something different to it.

I've made up a town to set this in as I didn't want to have to tie the setting into any specific real place. There are a mix of characters here, some from Greys, others are of my own invention.

Hope you enjoy!

Arizona Robbins walked with purpose down the main street in Newport, Washington. She wanted to spend as little time as possible out in public, but figured running would bring unwanted attention, and so limited herself to a brisk walk. In her hand she clutched two photographs. She held them so tightly that it appeared she was afraid a gust of wind would come and sweep them right out of her hand.

As she walked, she glanced around at her surroundings. She was so absorbed by her own thoughts that she didn't spot the familiar face of her brother's (and her, if she was honest) childhood friend, Mark Sloan, recognising her from across the street. But he made no attempt to let her know he was there.

It was eerie, how little the place had changed. The bar where all the locals drank was still there. For years, she figured that would be the place that she would get her first legal drink (there was no chance of buying one there underage given that everyone knew everyone in this town). The diner….well the diner looked like it hadn't had a lick of paint since she was last there. Sure, a couple of previously independent coffee shops had been switched for international chains, and one or two stores seemed to have closed down. But otherwise, the street looked identical to the last time she had walked it ten years ago.

Ten years.

It was almost a lifetime, and yet no time at all. When she'd left, she wasn't sure that she would ever return. In fact, if it weren't for current circumstances, maybe she wouldn't have done.

Seeing her parents in the home where she'd spent her teenage years had been unnerving. They'd been in contact by phone, and her parents had occasionally visited her in New York, but she had remained resolute in her insistence that she would never return to Newport. Her mother had begged, even with tears some years, but Arizona hadn't flickered once.

But now, now things were different.

She glanced down at one of the photographs in her hand. It had been taken the summer that her family had relocated to Newport, and showed two blonde teenagers with dimpled smiles having successfully climbed the trees in their new backyard. Arizona and her brother Tim had both been fiercely competitive, and both were adamant that their respective trees were higher, thus making them the more accomplished climber.

At the time, Arizona had persistently argued that although the photographic evidence appeared to show Tim at a higher level than her, it was a matter of perspective and the relative position of the trees in comparison to the camera. Now, she could admit that in fact Tim had climbed higher. In fact, she would be willing to admit that he was better than her at anything that they had competed over, if only it would change things.

But it wouldn't. Tim, her hero, her older brother that she idolised, was dead. Killed in action. He'd signed up for the army the summer after he finished high school, following in their father's footsteps. It hadn't even seemed like a choice, it was what he was born to do. He'd joined the Rangers, meaning that he was regularly deployed at short notice to conflict zones. In their Skype calls, Arizona had often heard stories of their dangerous exploits, something that she found exciting at first. But after the first call where Tim had told her about losing a member of his team in action, that changed. It wasn't the same as how it was with their father. As a Colonel, he was about as far away from danger as you could get. But with Tim it was different, he was at the heart of the action.

And now there was no more danger. Because there was no more Tim.

She stopped when she reached the motel that she'd checked into. Not that she'd had much choice, it was the only motel in town.

She stood in the parking lot, remembering the day that her family had first relocated to Newport. Arizona had been thirteen, and Tim fifteen. They'd spent a few weeks living in this very motel until the paperwork on the house was finalised. During those weeks, Arizona and Tim had hung out on the walkway, watching the cars pull into the lot and inventing all kinds of ridiculous backstories to explain why their owners had come to Newport.

Arizona would spend the following year being homeschooled, something that was normal for her after years of constant relocations, whereas Tim went to the (only) local high school as a sophomore. She would join him a year later as a freshman. Tim was one of those people who just got on with everyone and within days of school starting he had fitted right in with the jocks and the cheerleaders. Arizona meanwhile was happy just keeping herself busy with her studies, already determined that she would go into medicine, and besides, she knew she would always have her brother for company.

She could feel her chest beginning to tighten as the memories flooded over her. She hurried into her room, shutting the door behind her and leaning up against it to catch her breath.

Shaking, it was only then that she could bring herself to look at the second photograph that she had been clutching so tightly.

It showed four friends, without a care in the world. They'd just finished their freshman year at high school, and headed down to the beach to celebrate. A bunch of misfits, they described themselves as. Never the popular kids, but they never quite fitted in to any other group either. On the left of the photo was Teddy Altman, an army brat just like Arizona and Tim. She'd moved to Newport with her family at the start of freshman year, and she and Arizona had stuck together from their second day at Newport High. Teddy tended to be the quieter member of the group, always more thoughtful, that was until she consumed alcohol and became the kind of person who would instigated limbo competitions or other ways to generally make everyone look ridiculous. On the right of the photo, Arizona mimicked Teddy's pose with her hand on her hip, like two blonde bookends. Next to Teddy was Alex Karev. Some people had found it strange that there was a boy in their bunch of misfits, and especially a boy like Alex who had apparently been known in Junior High for his frequent angry outbursts and inability to get on with anyone. But Arizona had seen something in him when they first met in history class, afterwards she would always say it was that there was kindness in his eyes. And once he was taken under her wing, he mellowed and became someone genuine and kind. Sure, his temper would still flare sometimes but only when defending people he cared about.

Arizona swallowed before focusing on the fourth person in the photograph, stood between herself and Alex with an arm round each of them and the biggest grin on her face. Her best friend in the whole world.

Callie Torres.

Best friend didn't really sum it up, but over the years it was what Arizona had kept telling herself until at least superficially, she believed it. Every moment, good or bad, in her teenage years seemed to involve Callie. Callie had been the only person who could get Arizona to skip class, even when Teddy and sometimes Alex refused to. Summers on the beach, getting dressed up for Halloween, acing tests, crying over heartbreaks and bereavements and stupid kids at school, Callie and Arizona were side by side for all of it. They'd had their first (very much underage) drink together. And…other firsts, that Arizona refused to let herself think about right now. It had been ten years since she had seen Callie's face, even in a photograph, and yet every inch of it remained ingrained in her memory. She allowed her thumb to momentarily brush over the image of the brunette, before taking a deep breath to gather herself.

She put the photographs on the table, face down and went to her bag to retrieve the bottle of vodka that she'd brought at a liquor store outside of town. She'd known this would be tough, and although the logical doctor in her told her that alcohol really wasn't the answer to that, right now Arizona felt anything but logical. Just a couple of days, she told herself, you just have to stay for a couple of days to get through the funeral, and then you can leave and never look back.

She poured herself a healthy slug of vodka into a slightly dubious looking mug. Had she been anywhere else, on any other day, she wouldn't have even contemplated putting it near her mouth, but right now Arizona didn't really care. She had one can of diet coke left from her drive from the airport, so she poured it in and took a long swig of her drink. She winced slightly, apparently her measure of vodka had been somewhat more than healthy, but by the second or third sip she no longer noticed.

With every sip of the drink, she was hoping for the memories to fade, or at least dull a little, but there was one face that just wouldn't go away no matter how hard she tried. She sat there, unable to erase a specific memory of Callie. She wasn't even sure why her brain fixated on that moment. It was their sophomore year, and their science teacher Dr Webber had insisted that everyone had to give a presentation to the class to pass the year. Callie had been absolutely terrified, public speaking was her worst nightmare, and so Arizona had spent countless evenings with her, coaching her, including advising her to picture everyone naked (which had grossed them both out). After she was done, and Dr Webber had given Callie the highest grade in the class (which, had it been anyone else, Arizona would have totally been bummed about), they had run outside and Callie had thrown her arms around Arizona, squealing. The sheer joy and relief on her face, and knowing that she had helped put it there, was something that had stuck with Arizona after all these years.

She went to take another sip of her drink, and realised when nothing reached her mouth that the mug was empty. Sighing, she dug around in the pocket of her jacket for some loose change and headed out of the room to find a vending machine to restock her diet coke supplies. Even reminiscing Arizona wasn't quite in a place for straight vodka yet.

Having found a vending machine on the walkway around the corner from her room and successfully purchased two more cans of diet coke, she headed back to her door. As she turned the corner, she came to a halt, the cans crashing to the floor.

She stood there for a moment, unable to breathe. The sound of the cans hitting the ground caused the figure at her door to spin round in her direction and their eyes locked together.

For the first time in ten years, Callie Torres was stood in front of her.