Walk Tall...by lilscout

Chapter 9

A/N – Caution: Strong language and a major butt kicking is about to ensue. It took a while to get into Cal and Az's minds for this. How would each think, see, and feel about what happened? Also, how bad is it that I had to go back and re-read my own story to remember what's happened in past chapters? Clearly, I took way too long to update, and I'm really sorry for that! :(

...

Callie sat in the hospital lobby, bouncing her leg to a quick nervous rhythm. Arizona had texted to say that she'd be ready to leave in ten minutes, but it had been easily twice that long. Callie was becoming concerned, and stood quickly, having decided to go on the hunt for her date. Friend? Girlfriend?

She made it to the bottom of the staircase when the elevator door dinged open and Arizona strode out into the hallway.

"Callie," she called. "I'm here!" She quickened her pace and hurried over to the brunette.

Callie turned, one hand on the banister, one foot on the stair, and smiled. It was bright and warm and it made Arizona's heart swell. She slowed as she reached the brunette, and slid her arm around the taller woman's waist. "Sorry, I know I took longer than I said."

Callie wrapped her arm around Arizona's waist as well, and they turned to walk out the main doors.

"Remember that Shrek doll we won at the park?" Arizona asked.

Callie nodded.

"Well, Lucy's parents," she paused, but they continued walking. "Her parents didn't take it with them. They told one of the nurses that another kid should have it instead. So, I had to decide who to give it to. Does that seem weird?" She stopped and looked at the brunette.

"No, I don't think it's weird," Callie responded slowly. "If her parents who said they wouldn't take it, then why shouldn't another kid get it. If it'll make someone else happy, why not?"

Arizona nodded, pleased with the response, and they continued walking.

"So who did you give it to?"

"Oh, a little boy named Jacob. He's seven." Arizona smiled. "You should have seen his face! It's bigger than he is!"

"That's good Arizona, I'm glad."

Arizona hugged Callie's waist a little tighter as they strolled. "Me too."

Callie pulled open the heavy door to the bar and they moved inside. She scanned the room as usual, and gave a brief wave to Joe as they headed over to join Cristina, Owen, Lexie, Meredith and Derek. There was a loud scraping of wood against wood as everybody scooted their chairs over to make room for the new couple. Cristina was in the middle of a story about catching two of the new interns in a storage closet together. And apparently, they weren't doing inventory.

Meredith quietly leaned over to Arizona. "I heard about your patient, Dr. Robbins." She placed her hand lightly over Arizona's. "I'm really sorry."

Arizona nodded as unexpected tears began to well. "Thanks Meredith, really. And please, it's just Arizona, okay?"

"What are you drinking Az?"

"Um...white wine, something dry please." She looked up, and Callie was already on her way to the bar. "Thanks!" she called.

Arizona had exchanged the wine for water after three glasses, and she was feeling relaxed and just a little woozy from the alcohol. She had stopped herself at three, mostly because she didn't want to deal with a pounding headache the next day.

She felt eyes on her and turned to find Callie staring directly at her.

"What?" she asked, laughing, feeling a little caught off guard.

Callie leaned in to her. "You're so beautiful," she answered openly.

Arizona blushed and looked around furtively at the others sitting at the table to see if any of them overheard. They hadn't. She leaned back into Callie and whispered in her ear. "And you're incredibly sexy." Her gaze dropped to Callie's slightly parted lips. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Callie nodded, and they stood up together, saying their goodbyes. Callie settled their tab and they headed out the door together. Arizona took Callie's hand in hers as they strolled along the dark deserted sidewalk, an unspoken agreement to head back to Callie's place.

They made it about halfway.

"Hey bitch, remember me?"

Arizona barely had time to drop Callie's hand before she was being yanked roughly by the arm into the dark alley. Callie froze. She couldn't move. She stood stock still on the sidewalk, watching as the stranger pulled Arizona deeper into the darkness. She heard a faint sound, getting louder. After an eternity she recognized it as her own name. Someone was calling her.

Arizona was calling her.

"Callie! Callie! Get help! Callie!"

She flinched, then lunged part way into the alley after them, fuelled by anger and fear.

"Nuh uh..." the man teased, holding the knife dangerously close to Arizona's exposed neck.

"I don't give a shit about you," he spat, "but come any closer and I'll cut you up too."

"Calliope!" Arizona begged, "please, just go. I don't want you to get hurt. Please!"

Callie's brown eyes widened as she realized she had only one choice. She had to get help. She would call the police and they would come. But that could take several minutes and this guy looked ready to attack any second.

But that meant she had to leave Arizona here. By herself. With this maniac.

She turned on her heels and ran back into the street, yelling for someone, anyone, to help them. But it was late, and traffic was sparse. She started for the only place she could think of, just a short distance away, pulling out her cell and making a frantic call to 911 as she ran. She cursed her two inch heels when they caused her to trip and stumble more than once. Callie was screaming before she had even yanked open the saloon door, forcing every person there to spin around in shock as she tore inside.

...

The brief distraction had caused the man to release his grip of Arizona's arm, and she stepped away from him, working at remaining calm. Maybe she could talk her way out of this.

"Look, I don't know what you think I did to you, but I assure you, you've got the wrong person."

Arizona had her hands out in front of her and moved back as far as the wall would allow. She chanced a quick glance to her right. Dead end. She looked up. No windows and no fire escapes. Nothing but solid brick. A pointless dead end alleyway. She looked left, her only escape. But he was currently blocking it, boxing her in. The headlights from a passing car reflected and glinted off the smooth and deadly four inch blade he was now holding loosely, almost mockingly, in his right hand.

"Shut up!" he growled at her. "It's your fucking problem if you don't remember me!" He used the knife and took a half hearted swipe at her hands, and she pulled them quickly out of the way.

Despite all her years of training, she had never once faced a situation where her very life may depend upon what she learned. She told herself to keep breathing. Over and over her mind repeated it. Fear was commanding her to stop, to freeze. But she knew if she stopped breathing, her brain wouldn't function, and her reaction time would be diminished. So despite her fear, she just kept breathing.

"Okay, okay, I'm very sorry if there's something..." she stopped.

Looked at him closely.

Then she understood clearly.

And a flash of anger crossed her face.

"I remember you now," she said evenly. "This," she pointed towards the blade in his hand, "is not the answer, okay." She looked at him, pleading. "You were hurting my friend...I had to stop you."

"Fuck you!" he spat back. "You fucking humiliated me!"

Then he smiled, and it was sickening.

"And now I'm going to destroy you."

He advanced slowly towards her, the knife out in front of him, like he was savoring his big moment.

"My..my friend...the police will be here any minute," Arizona cautioned, hands out in front again, eyes trained on the knife.

"Minute's all I need," he answered, nodding his head as he advanced on her.

Arizona stopped talking and assessed her options.

The knife. The knife was the problem. She may not have done a whole lot of weapons training, but she had learned enough to know, you did not fuck around when it came to knives. They were serious, and they almost never missed. She figured one well placed cut and she could very well bleed out right here, alone, before help ever found her.

She decided, in spite of her fear, she must take the knife out of the equation.

She looked at his hand, and quickly judged the distance between it and her own body. About three feet. A little far, but she could adjust for that. She could make it work.

She moved slowly at first, deliberately, placing her left foot out in front of her and across her right. He watched her, amused, never guessing what was to come. She took a quick breath in, and simply allowed her body to do what it had done hundreds, maybe thousands of times before this moment. Her torso, twisted from the placement of her feet, whipped around, bringing her right leg with it. Her body spun hard, like a tightly coiled spring now released, and the heel of her boot violently struck his hand as she completed the turn. She screamed out as she made contact, a verbal expulsion of stress and anger. The knife clattered away down the alley, safely out of reach, and all the fingers of his right hand were now broken and useless.

She completed her follow through, placing both feet firmly back on the ground, and allowed her body to return to an informal fight stance.

He cried out in pain and in shock. He tried to move his fingers, but the bruising and swelling had already begun. The man looked at Arizona, horrified. Then his body slumped, and his face contorted with such rage and disgust that she could feel it burning and swirling the very molecules of air surrounding them in this tight dark alley.

Her eyes widened and she forced her mouth open, taking in as much air as she could.

React. Anticipate. He's injured and angry. Protect the body. Keep breathing.

She faintly heard the wailing of a police siren in the background, but didn't let it distract her. He must have heard it too, she saw, because he dropped his broken hand to his side, and lunged desperately for her face with his left fist curled tightly into a ball. The long back swing he took, though, told Arizona all she needed to know about his next move.

He might as well have sent her a goddamn email, and she decided right then and there to end it.

He swung at her, his arm outstretched, so, using a kind of a windmill action, she used her left, then immediately her right forearm to block his punch. She then turned his upper body away from her using his own momentum, so that he was now awkwardly off balance. Quickly, she struck out with the back of her hand and landed a forceful blow to the middle of his handsome face, breaking his nose.

His body lurched from the pain and dark red blood immediately began to gush, but she wasn't done yet.

As she pulled back from the punch, she raised her left leg to ninety degrees, and snapped it out and down towards his knee. Again, the solid heel of her boot made contact, crushing his knee cap, and sending him sprawling to the ground, his leg falling at an unnatural and sickening angle.

She stood motionless over his fractured body as he spat out the blood pooling in his mouth, and heard him screaming at her, crying out in agony and disgrace.

She had beaten him. He was no longer any kind of a threat.

And yet.

She couldn't calm herself, or her breathing. She couldn't stop the rush of adrenaline coursing through her, fuelled by fury and disgust over what he tried to do. To her, and to Calliope.

She calmly stepped around him and used her foot to nudge his bad leg out of the way, exposing his good one. He flailed at her with his arm, eyes wide, but it was useless.

Arizona looked at him, her expression neutral, her intent clear.

She raised her leg.

...

Callie ran fast towards the alley, panicked at what she expected to find. She was only gone about two and a half minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Everyone she knew from the bar, and some she didn't, were following her, including Joe the bartender, wielding his trusty Seattle Mariner's 2001 A.L. Division Series baseball bat. Owen was out in front, urging Callie to run faster. He was desperate to help Arizona, but didn't know where to find her.

"Arizona!" Callie screamed out, hoping for a response as they got closer. There was none, and Callie ran just a little bit faster then, her feet pounding the concrete, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Arizona! We're coming!"

The wailing of the sirens grew louder as they ran.

"There!" she screamed, pointing to the alley entrance as they neared it, and Owen tore on ahead, rounding the corner out of sight. Seconds later, Callie and the rest of the mob skidded to a halt. Joe lumbered a few feet behind them, and used his elbows to push his way to the front, bat at the ready.

A shocked silence fell.

Owen was kneeling over the man's fractured body, doing a quick triage assessment. He looked up at Callie, then glanced briefly back at Arizona. "She looks okay," he said, turning his attention back to the injured stranger on the ground.

Arizona was sitting on the hard ground, her back against the brick, her legs pulled up in front of her body. She was staring at the man sprawled in front of her, but her eyes were unfocused, drifting. There, but not there.

"Arizona?" Callie's voice was barely a whisper as she moved towards her. "Sweetie? Are you hurt?" Callie knelt down, placing a gentle hand on Arizona's shoulder. She noticed the impact bruising, already evident and turning a crimson red on the blonde's forearms. Classic defensive injuries. Callie had seen them dozens of times at the hospital, but never before on someone she...loved. Her heart broke at the sight.

"Arizona..." Callie tried again, her voice a little more urgent.

"He's injured," Arizona quietly interrupted. "He needs to go to the hospital."

The man was screaming obscenities at Owen and at all the bystanders watching on. His humiliation was total and he knew it. He could see it in their eyes.

The police sirens grew almost deafening as two cruisers came to a screeching halt at the scene. The crowd backed away as the officers spilled from their cars, shouting commands to each other and to the crowd, hands on the butt of their holstered weapons. Meredith approached them and began to explain the situation. The officers were joined by paramedics seconds later, and the crowd backed away even more to allow them through with their stretcher.

Owen identified himself as he stood up, apprising the EMT's of all the injuries he had identified so far.

"Thanks Dr. Hunt. Will you be accompanying us to the hospital?" they asked as they transferred the injured man onto the bed.

"I will," he nodded, "but considering this man just attacked two of Seattle Grace's doctors, it's would probably be in his best interest if you transported him to Mercy West instead." He looked down at his patient with a rare indifference. "His injuries are not life threatening."

Two officers approached Arizona while a third walked down the alley to retrieve the knife. The fourth unclipped his handcuffs and snapped one end on the gurney and the other on the man's good wrist, informing him of impending criminal charges.

"Ma'am...are you injured as well?" the female officer asked, bending down to the blonde's level.

Arizona looked up into kind eyes, and at the hand held out to her. She took it and stood up.

"No...no, I'm fine," Arizona responded, shaking her head, her gaze finally coming into focus. She could feel another's eyes on her, and turned, finally seeing Callie for the first time. Arizona opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her mind was numb, and anyway, how could she possibly explain herself, explain what she had done to him. Even more, what she had wanted to do.

"She has some bruising," Callie brushed her hand lightly against Arizona's arms, "here...and here."

She looked at the officers. "He's the one who attacked us. You have the knife." She glanced back at Arizona, then to the officers again. "I know how this may look to you, but..."

The lead officer held up her hand. "We have a pretty good idea what's happened here. We just need to take a statement from you both, but we can do that later tonight." She looked at Arizona. "You really should get those bruises looked at. You could have a fracture or something."

"I'm an orthopaedic surgeon at Seattle Grace," Callie told them, giving Arizona a quick smile. "Believe me, I'll make sure she gets checked out."

"Okay. Well, the other officers will be accompanying the assailant, so we can give you a ride to emerg if you like."

Callie nodded. "Thanks, that'd be great."

Arizona spoke up.

"No," she said, her voice firm. She looked at the officer. "I'm fine, really. I don't need an x-ray. My arms are just bruised." She looked down at the redness and swelling. Her face revealed no emotion. "I'll come with you now to make a statement if that's okay. I'd rather get it over with."

"Arizona..." Callie interjected, "You really need to let me examine your arms, okay." She noticed the blonde had tucked them behind her body, against the wall, out of sight.

Arizona shook her head in response. "No, I'm fine. But thank you anyway." She turned to the officers. "Can we get going then? I'm quite tired and really need to rest."

The cops looked from Arizona to Callie, and back again. They could tell something wasn't right, but they let it go and steered Arizona through the crowd and into the back of their vehicle.

Callie stood speechless. Thank you anyway. Arizona had spoken to her like she was some kind of stranger. Like she didn't even know her. Callie choked back a sob as she followed them to the police cruiser.

Arizona was shutting down and Callie didn't know how to stop it.