This is the second one-shot of the series and I really hope you enjoy it! Reviews, constructive criticism, and ideas welcome. I decided to write this one entirely from Callie's point of view because I thought it was more appropriate for the situation, sorry if that was a disappointment for some of you. This one takes place during episode 6.08.

Author's Update: I received a very helpful review for this chapter telling me that this was pretty plagerism because I used the exact lines and scene from the show. I think that this reviewer was absolutely correct. Obviously, not a good idea on my part. I wanted express what was going on in Callie's head during the scene. It will definitely not be happening ever again! But I really hope that you will accept my apology and continue reading my story. Thanks again for your help and support.

~ Color.

Two. Absolute

"I've seen this one before, the girl she gets away.
Everybody knows it, but no one tries to stop it."
- Absolute, The Fray

As I walk into the apartment I know it's bad. She's sitting silent in an arm chair in the living room. I can tell by her posture, the look that's in her eye, everything about her in this moment. It's not her. It's terrified, defensive, stubborn Arizona who only shows when absolutely necessary. It's all a defence mechanism.

"I left you messages." her voice is gruelling. I can see the force she uses getting up out of the chair. I brace for impact of an arguement.

"I was in surgery." I reply. The neurons in my brain are firing a million times a second because I'm scared. I know how much Arizona hates being this way. I'm scared something has broken her breathtakingly unique spirit and left this Arizona in its place.

"I don't care. I operated on Wallace tonight, even when I knew better. I keep retracing every step, every suture. I keep going over it and over it." Her voice is still harsh but I can hear the wavering there that most would dismiss.

"He didn't make it." I interrupt simply because this is the only reason I think of that would cause her to be this way. Wallace has always been more student than patient to Arizona.

"No, he did, he's in recovery. That's not the point. What I need from you tonight was a little support for once. And you weren't there." Her words are like poison being injected into my system.

"Okay, you're scared." I state truthfully, I'm hoping this will wake her up out of her current state. "So you're picking a fight, I get that." Her face changes from anger and slight contempt to shock.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I've helped you through crisis after crisis and for once I thought that I could come here tonight so that I could get something." Her words are cut off by Christina and Owen entering the apartment abruptly letting out anger along the way.

I try to digest what she's saying to me as she's distracted by them. I've seen it before. It is exactly as it was before. I realize I haven't changed. Everything she's saying may be coming out now out of fear, of anger, and of desperation but it's all entirely true. I'm still the selfish, pitiful Callie who makes her husband pick her or his best friend, who chooses the woman who had an affair with her husband over the woman who opened her eyes, the Callie who ruins her own life and everyone else's in the process just by simply living her life. I don't want to do this to her. I want to be the invincible, bad ass Callie that actually knows how to treat people. The Callie I was before George, before Erica, before any of it.

I should have been there for her, as soon as I got out of that surgery I should told her I was sorry and that I was there for her. I should have told her how amazing she was. I should have told her how much I loved her. It hits me. I love her. I love Arizona, I do love her.

Before I know it Christina drags me and Arizona in to her fight with Owen.

"Wait, what child?" her voice is stern and concerned. Owen quickly catches her up on the situation with Hillary's surgery. "And you didn't tell me?"

Her attention has now redirected itself back in my direction. "Well, I was going to but you were all like tell me I'm great, tell me I'm great." The words leave my mouth and I instantly regret them.

Why am I such an insensitive person? Here she is standing in front of me telling me exactly how she feels and that is all I could say. My actions are building the support to her accusation and tearing down my confidence. She's standing here in front of me terrified hoping that I'll take her in my arms, hold her tight and tell her everything will be alright. But of course being my selfish, pitiful self I try and pass the blame off on her and her anger when I should be comforting her and telling her how much I need her. How much I love her.

It hits me, like a slap in the face. I love her. I love Arizona, I do.

Her pager goes off, bringing me back to the scene in front of me. Something along the lines of "I have to go, I have a patient" leaves her mouth.

I'm not sure of what she has said because all I can think of is how can I fix this. Her footsteps are now echoing through my mind, I turn to watch her back as she walks away from me. It's all I can do because I'm to afraid to do what I really want to.

All I want to do is take her hand in mine and tell her how I really feel. I want to tell that I'm willing to do what ever she wants me to, what ever she needs me to. I'll be the woman who acts like a hopelessly in love teenager and stand outside her door in the pouring rain throwing pebbles at her window just waiting for her to open up so I can scream out to her and tell her how much I'm in love with her. I want to tell her that I'd do anything, for her.

But I don't say a word because I've seen it before; because no matter what you say, she gets away. I don't try and stop her. I merely watch the door slam sombrely behind her and pray we'll alright.