Arizona

Amelia and I haven't seen each other for five days. That's the longest amount of time since the attack. She's texted and called as much as possible but it's not the same as having her here in person. I'm really missing her but I love the anticipation that's been building up to tonight; our first date. I have no idea where she's taking me, but she's told me to wear something 'smart-casual'. So, now I'm standing in front of the clothes in my walk-in closet sighing at the lack of choice I have. So many clothes, so little to wear.

I pick out a few options. I guess a dress is my best bet. Something blue? Something black? Red? Green? Yellow? Urgh. Why is this so difficult? I think I like this coral one. But, it's kind of leggy. Maybe too leggy. The prosthetic I have now is pretty life-like but I still can't help feeling a little self-conscious about it. I try the dress on to check its suitability and spend the next fifteen minutes studying it in the mirror. The bottom half is bodycon and clings to my thighs, hips and waist. The dolman sleeves and off-the-shoulder shape of the dress at the top make me feel more comfortable. I spend the next few minutes looking at my leg. To my surprise, and relief, it doesn't look completely ridiculous.

The dress will do. I take it off and hang it up ready for later. I pull my jeans and comfy oversized jumper back on and start messing with my hair in the mirror. Now, how the hell should I do this?

Suddenly, I hear a knock at my door. I freeze. I don't know who it is. I'm not expecting anyone. I check my phone, but there are no missed calls. As I make my way slowly down the stairs, the person outside knocks again. It could be anyone. I can feel my heart beat faster and faster, and my body starts to tremble. I crouch down on the stairs and try to calm myself.

No, come on, Arizona. You can't be afraid to answer your own door. Don't be a victim. I push through the panic and force myself to the front door. I unlock it and open it slightly to reveal the two policemen I spoke to at the hospital. What are they doing here?

"Good morning, Dr Robbins," one of them greets me. "I hope this isn't a bad time," he says, glancing at my face. I must look panic-stricken. I swallow and try to look calm.

"No, please, come in," I open the door wider and gesture for them to enter my house. I close the door behind them and usher them towards the living room.

I offer them a coffee, but they decline and take a seat on my sofa. I sit on the armchair to the side and wait for them to ask me more questions, or give me more information, or something. One sighs deeply before he starts to talk.

"We've searched James Blake's apartment," he begins. "What we're about to show you may be quite distressing, but we need you to be aware of the severity of the situation. Especially if this goes to court. Do you understand, Dr Robbins?"

I nod, though I'm terrified. What are they about to show me? They hand me a padded out envelope. I can't stop my hands from shaking as I take it. I stare it for a few seconds and then look up at the policeman.

"Dr Robbins, would you like us to call someone for you before you open it?" One asks, sensing my apprehension. I shake my head. There's no point in dragging my friends into this. Mum and Dad are too far away, and they don't know the extent of the attack. I dialled it right down; played it off as a few scrapes and bruises. I didn't want to panic them.

"No... no, that's okay. Thank you."

Hand still shaking, I reach into the envelope and pull out some pictures. The first few are pictures of the drugs he kept in the apartment. Some of them are labelled "AR"; my initials. The next one is snapshot of a room filled with pictures pinned to cork boards.

"This is James Blake's office," the officer explains. "The pictures behind are what we retrieved from this room."

I move the top picture to one side and flick through the rest. They're all pictures of me. Pictures of me entering Grey Sloan, pictures of me driving, pictures of me at the bar, pictures of me outside my home. The next picture makes me inhale sharply. It's a picture of me and Sofia outside her school. My stomach flips and my heart is pounding. He knows where my little girl goes to school. Anything could have happened.

"Dr Robbins, we are serving Mr Blake with stalking charges and also charging him with assault with the intent to rape. We are under the impression that Mr Blake will plead 'not guilty'. He has been very tight-lipped during interrogation. If that happens, the case will go to trial." He states, bluntly. I nod my head. This means I'm almost definitely going to have to see him again.

I don't hear much after that. I can't concentrate on anything. I thank the officers for coming and see them out of my house. As I close the door, I press my back against it and let out short, sharp breaths. I bring my knees up to my chest and throw my head back against the door. My palms are sweating and silent tears stream down my face. Another panic attack. Only this time I'm alone. It takes much longer for me to compose myself.

About a half hour later, I manage to drag myself back into the living room. I pick up my cell and search my contacts for Callie's name. I need to see my daughter.

"Hello?"

"Callie," her name comes out as a sob.

"Arizona? What's wrong?" She says immediately, voice full of panic.

"Callie... Sofia... I need to see her! Please!" I say, softly. I'm struggling to get out full sentences.

"Okay, it's okay... I'll bring her now," she says quickly. I can hear her getting keys and shouting Sofia's name. I hang up and walk to the mirror in the hallway. I look half-dead and I need to perk myself up. I don't want my daughter to see me like this.

...

Callie

I pull onto my ex-wife's drive and turn the ignition off quickly. The house is silent and still. God, I hope she's okay.

"C'mon, sweetie. Let's go see what mommy's up to," I say as calmly as I can. Sofia is out of the car like a shot and running towards Arizona's front door. She knocks quickly and smiles widely at me. Though worried, I smile back. She gets so excited every time I drop her here. I love the connection they have.

A few moments later she opens the door. She looks okay... She looks better than okay. Radiant, actually. She's pinned her hair back in the same kind of style she wore at Kepner's first wedding. With her hair out of her face, those gorgeous blue eyes really shine through. They look a little bloodshot, but beautiful nonetheless. On closer inspection, she's covered her face lightly with foundation. Probably to cover the fact she's been crying.

She smiles gently at me, revealing her endearing dimples, before crouching down and wrapping her arms around our daughter. She's clinging tight, one hand holding the back of her head securely.

"Hi, Little Goose," she says, her eyes glimmering.

"Mommy, are you okay?" Sofia asks, innocently.

"I'm fine, sweetheart... I just missed you!" That's definitely an excuse. She kisses her on the head and ends the embrace. "Let's go to the play room. I need to speak to your mama, okay?"

"Okay, mommy,"

Sofia rushes on ahead as Arizona shuts the door and locks it behind us. She's transparently on edge.

"Are you okay?" I ask, praying she gives me a real answer. Unfortunately, she doesn't. Just a head nod as we walk in the direction Sofia's just taken. "What's going on?"

"I had a visit from the police this morning," she says, just above a whisper. She looks around to make sure our daughter is preoccupied with her toys and not listening to our conversation. "They showed me what was in James Blake's apartment," she continues. I bow my head. I'm desperate for Penny not to be involved in this but it's just too much of a coincidence. I regret ever bringing that woman into our lives. "He's been following me since we came back from New York. He'd taken hundreds of pictures of me. They were hanging up in his house." She's biting her lip out of nervousness. "I need you to know... there was a picture he took of me and Sofia outside her school." She steps out of the play room, out of sight of Sofia, and I follow. She's emotional. And, so am I. He knows where Sofia goes to school. If the police hadn't gotten to him, I would have killed him already. "I'm... I'm so sorry," she whispers. "I'm so sorry I put her in danger."

"Oh, my God. Come here," I hold her close to me and relish the moment for a few seconds. "Arizona, that's not your fault," I try to comfort her, but know it's not going to be enough. I don't really know how to comfort her any more. Regardless, I continue to hold her in my arms.

"I have to see him again... when we go to trial," she says, plainly.

"You think he's going to plead 'not guilty'?" I ask, surprised. What he's done is so obvious. Why would he plead 'not guilty'? She nods her head. "Then you get a damn good lawyer and you make that bastard pay for what he has done," I kiss her lightly on the temple.

"Mommy? Are you sure you're okay?" Arizona quickly gets herself out of our embrace and bends down to speak to Sofia. She doesn't miss a trick, that kid.

"Yes, sweet girl. I'm feeling so much better now you're here," she says, enthusiastically, brushing a few messy strands out of Sofia's face and tucking them behind her ear. "I need your help with a special job. You need to help me choose some clothes..."

Arizona

I show Sofia the coral dress I'd put to one side earlier. She tilts her head to one side and knots her eyebrows together as she looks at me in it.

"You don't like it?" I ask, disappointed. I may even be pouting. Children can be too honest sometimes.

"Mommy, I like the blue one," The blue one? What is she talking about? I watch her as she stands up and looks through the hangers like a tiny fashion designer. She smiles as she finds the desired item of clothing and pulls it out. "This one..." She brings it towards me.

This dress is so old. I'm pretty sure it's the dress I wore to Izzie and Alex's wedding. It's royal blue with a cowl neckline and purposeful knots in the straps.

"Ok, let's try this one," I take the rejected dress off and hang it back up. As the blue dress slides down towards my knee, I turn round to face Callie who's holding two cups of coffee.

"You look incredible," Callie says. I feel her eyes run up and down my body and I feel a little uncomfortable. "Where are you going?" she asks, handing me one of the cups.

"Oh... I... uh- I'm kind of... going on a date..."