Hi, folks. Sorry for the long, long wait. I am trying to discipline myself into writing for an extended period of time each day (when it is manageable) so that updates can come around faster. Also bringing my laptop to work so that I will be able to write during downtime… the next update should come around much faster than this one.
Thanks again for the kind reviews and reading. I appreciate it.
Callie was unsure of herself as she sat in Mark's borrowed car, driving to a destination that seemed entirely unremarkable. The scenery that flew by was only one of vacancy; signs of life seemed entirely scarce. Arizona had earlier explained the directions to her and it seemed odd to drive there, to some far, unknown destination without much explanation. Arizona seemed to be a woman of few words, Callie thought.
Now and then, Callie would lightly tap her fingertips against the steering wheel, as if attempting to prompt some sort of conversation, but the ghost next to her hadn't noticed nor had she said anything at all.
So they sat in silence, the only sound that made its way to their ears were the vibrations of the car reverberating through the space between them, accompanied with Callie's occasional tapping. She glanced over at Arizona siting in the passenger's seat, her bright eyes observing the flashing scenery with a kind of passivity. Her gaze was distant, she seemed to be lost in thought.
Callie looked back at the endless road in front of her – her foot pressing slightly on the acceleration pedal, wanting to go faster, wanting to know more. But Arizona had said nothing.
"What are you thinking?" she inquired, her own voice somehow startling her from the loud silence that seemed to overtake the atmosphere.
"Huh?" Arizona asked, looking over to her now.
Callie glanced at her again, and then turned her attention back to the road in front of her.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked again. She paused for a moment when Arizona did not respond and asked, "Are you going to tell me where we're going?"
"You'll see," Arizona said.
"I thought you were going to tell me about yourself."
"I am, Calliope," she started, "but it's not enough to just… explain. You have to see, too… I, I want you to see it all," she continued.
"See what?"
"My… home," she said.
"Your home?" Callie echoed, looking over to her again, observing her pained expression. She waited for Arizona to continue.
"I want to experience it, too," Arizona said, "my past. You know? I've been avoiding it, avoiding… remembering. But now I want to."
"Why now?" Callie asked her, her voice softer.
"Because of you," Arizona said, simply. "All of it is because of you."
Having said this, Arizona only watched her – her expression somehow unreadable to Callie. She wasn't sure how to respond, so she only said, "I'm sorry."
Arizona laughed softly, "Why?"
"For making you remember," Callie confessed. "For forcing you to tell me about yourself, since it seems…. painful to you."
"It's not a bad thing to remember," Arizona retorted. "It's more of a bad thing to run from what we don't want to face, you know?"
Callie only nodded and pressed her foot harder against the acceleration pad, prompting the car to go a little faster than before. Arizona simply smiled at her gesture, observing Callie's expression.
Callie wondered what Arizona had meant about running. Running from her past, she implied. Could it be so horrible? What had she done? It seemed to haunt her. Callie wondered if all ghosts were haunted by their pasts – she wondered if only the haunted ones haunted. But even ghosts seemed to dream. Ghosts recalled it all so vividly, she reflected. Maybe.
How could she be sure?
"Your trance, is it because of me?"
"What?"
"Your trance before," Callie continued, "the way you just… seemed to disappear from this world – that's what it felt like, what it seemed like. Is it because of me that that happened to you?"
"Partly," Arizona confessed, "but it's not as scary as it looks. Please don't worry, Callie. I'm happy for it," she said.
"It is scary," Callie countered, "I don't think you can see yourself when you're like that, but god, you scared me."
"Sorry," Arizona said, gently laying her hand on Callie's thigh. She let her palm gently graze against the cloth, lightly running her fingertips over it. Callie's glance quickly fell to the soft hand on her thigh, as though surprised by its warmth, its gentleness, its reassuring touch – she was suddenly startled even by this woman's presence beside her.
"Will you tell me about your life?" Callie asked, "the way you lived… the way you died, will you tell me?"
"I will," Arizona affirmed, "I will tell you everything, Callie."
"Okay," Callie said, smiling only slightly.
She pressed the acceleration a little harder than before, wanting to get there faster now.
Arizona laughed, "You're eager."
"We're going to your house, right?" Callie asked. "I want to see it."
"It's old," Arizona said, "so is the woman that lives there."
"Someone lives there?"
"Yeah. I mean, I think she still does," she explained, "I haven't seen her in years, which is bad of me, but hey, I'm dead, right?" she joked.
"Who?" Callie asked, "Who lives there?"
"My mother," the ghost said, simply.
"What?" Callie asked, her foot suddenly lightening its weight against the acceleration petal.
To this, Arizona only laughed.
###
It wasn't too far away, it had only taken a few hours to reach their destination, a small town far east of Seattle. Callie maneuvered the car slowly through the narrow, paved streets while Arizona eagerly observed the surroundings.
"Wow," she said, "it's changed a lot!"
"Really? It looks outdated to me," Callie said, "The buildings are sorta old."
"Old?" Arizona asked, "Like 90's old? That's not old, Callie."
"No, not 90's. I don't know. Right," Callie said. "I forgot, you're supposed to be an old woman right now," she teased. "Like Webber."
"Rude," Arizona retorted before adding, "Richard's capable."
Callie edged the car around a corner and parked in front of a small café. She shut off the ignition. There were few people on the streets, walking around with bored expressions, as though they had nothing to do in the middle of the day.
"Richard," Callie said. "So you two were close?"
"Yes," Arizona said, "Why'd you stop here?"
"I want to admire the town you grew up in."
"I didn't grow up here."
"What?" Callie asked. "But you said this was your home."
"No, not this town," she corrected, "Not any town, really. I grew up all over the place. This was never my home, just a place I stayed in sometimes when my parents moved to Washington. When I say 'home,' I mean my parents' house. My old apartment is long gone. Renovated and everything."
"That's complicated."
"My dad was a marine. So we moved around a lot."
"Oh?" Callie asked, her eyes lighting up at the new information.
Arizona smiled and said, "Yeah, I was named after the battle ship, you know?"
"The battleship?"
"The U.S.S. Arizona."
"Oh," Callie said, "it's all making sense now."
"Yeah," Arizona affirmed, "Pearl Harbor."
"Okay," Callie replied, tapping her fingertips against the steering wheel again.
"What?" Arizona asked.
"What?"
"You seem antsy…"
"I don't know," Callie explained, "I guess I'm just absorbing the bits and pieces of information I'm getting about you and your life – trying to link them all together."
"Sorry," Arizona murmured, "I haven't written a memoir or anything."
Callie only laughed at her slightly sarcastic remark – it was playful, the way in which she had said it, and Callie did not expect to learn about her in one significant dose. A life story recounted verbally was not a linear tale, she thought – but when she thought about the woman beside her – the desire to know more was just incredibly overpowering at times.
She wished she could have heard about her day as it happened in Seattle Grace – as she spent mindless hours with Richard or infuriating Ellis. She wished she could have come to this town when Arizona was alive in the late 70's, meeting her parents and speaking with her mother.
"And your father?" she asked, "Where is he now?"
"He's dead. He died ten years after I did," Arizona said, "I only know because Richard went to his funeral."
"You didn't go?" Callie asked.
"I couldn't leave," she said, "I could never leave. Not 'til I met you."
"Oh," Callie said, "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize."
"I won't then," Callie said. "Where to now?"
"My mother's house is a little outside of town, just keep going the way you were before," she said, "it's the small house just down the hill from the graveyard you'll pass by."
She stopped speaking for a moment and laughed, "Fitting, isn't it?"
###
Callie's hand seemed to tremble as she parked her car just in the driveway next to the small house. She shut the ignition off and leaned back in her seat, attempting to tap her fingers against the steering wheel again. Only, it had not been as controlled as before. She tapped again, and her fingers trembled, the sound came to resemble staccato taps – off rhythm, just as her own heart seemed to be. She knew Arizona noticed her discomfort both in her physical gestures and the feeling she emitted.
"What?" she inquired, her voice soft. "Are you nervous?"
"Very," Callie admitted.
"Don't be."
"I'll try not to," she said. And as an afterthought, she added, "it's creepy that your mother lives near a graveyard."
Arizona laughed, "It is, isn't it?"
"How old is she?" Callie asked.
"Old."
"Okay…"
They sat in silence for a moment while Callie took a deep breath. She unbuckled her seatbelt. Arizona looked over to her as she gripped the steering wheel again, almost in an attempt to still her hands.
"Be brave for me, Callie," Arizona suddenly said.
"I will," Callie said. She didn't know why she felt so nervous.
"No, be brave for me."
"What do you mean?" she asked, taking her hands off of the steering wheel. Upon meeting Arizona's gaze, her trembling seemed to stop at once. The ghost seemed nervous.
"What do you mean?" Callie asked her again.
"I haven't seen her in years," Arizona sighed. "Not since I died."
Callie realized then that Arizona may have felt guilt, maybe sadness – she may have felt even more nervous than she had. It was her mother. A woman that Callie had no idea about – but nonetheless, it was Arizona's mother. She knew when she knocked on that door and greeted the old woman, something about Arizona and her own perspective of her would change.
Arizona could not embrace her mother. She could not say or do anything. Only watch.
How painful, Callie thought. She took Arizona's hand in her own and gently grazed it with her thumb.
"Let's go?" Callie asked.
"Okay."
###
"Can I help you?" the old woman asked politely, as she kept one hand steadily on the wooden door, intently observing the nervous woman standing before her. She seemed surprised at the visit, surprised at the company and the presence of Callie.
Callie observed her for a moment. She seemed frail and wrinkled – likely in her 80's, perhaps even approaching her 90's. She was a little hunched over – age had gotten the best of her spine, Callie thought. Her hair was completely gray, yet exceptionally kept, and her blue eyes shone as bright as ever. They were Arizona's eyes.
"Um," Callie started, "Hi, Mrs. Robbins. My name is Callie Torres, I'm an Orthopedic Surgeon at Seattle Grace Hospital."
"Has something happened to Richard?" Arizona's mother hurriedly asked with concern in her voice.
"No, ma'am, nothing has happened to the Chief," she reassured her. "I'm actually here about a surgeon I've heard stories about… um, Richard has told me about her, too."
Arizona's mother only waited for Callie to continue, slightly confused at her explanation. Callie felt Arizona's presence behind her – and she felt a kind of warmth, some sort of bravery to continue. She knew Arizona was probably observing her mother – seeing her again after so many years was probably nerve-wracking.
No more nervousness, Callie thought.
"Arizona Robbins," she said, pausing to observe Mrs. Robbins' reaction. Her eyesbrows arched up, she was surprised, but not entirely so, for the mentioning of Richard or Seattle Grace would always bring back memories of her daughter.
"Arizona?" her mother asked. "Why, she's been-"
"I know, ma'am," Callie said, her thoughts trailing off. What could she say? Surely not the truth. She wanted to know about Arizona's past, but why should her mother allow her to? She's been dead for years – who could believe Callie? So she chose to lie. The obvious choice. "I'm interested in continuing her research."
She heard Arizona chuckle behind her and murmur, "Liar." But Arizona was a researcher, Callie thought in defense.
"Her research?" Mrs. Robbins asked. "Arizona was not in Orthopedics."
"Everything is interdisciplinary," Callie retorted, "she's done some interesting pediatric orthopedic research that I would love to expand on… um, continue, you know? Her legacy. She had a forward way of thinking," she continued, fumbling with her words.
"I see," her mother said. She eyed her for another moment before opening the door wider, as to allow her to pass through. "Why don't you come in, dear," she said, "what was your name again?"
"Callie," she said, "Callie Torres."
"Come in, Callie," she said. "We can discuss this inside."
"Of course," she replied. "Thank you, Mrs. Robbins."
"Please, call me Barbara."
###
Callie had felt somewhat at ease upon entering the house, but she glanced quickly behind her to find Arizona the opposite – she was incredibly nervous and surprised, as if taking the surroundings in for the first time. She smiled quickly when meeting Callie's gaze and gently strode forward to grasp her hand.
"It looks the same," she said, "Almost."
Callie turned her attention back to Barbara, who was escorting her to a couch in the middle of the room. It was a homely place – the place where they stood was a small living room where one would find the usual sort of domestic utilities scattered about. There was a small coffee table centered in the room and a television set (rather old for its time) pushed to the side. There was a couch set surrounding the table and a number of rugs spread out on the floor.
"Come sit, Callie," Barbara told her, and so she nodded and sat down on the couch, looking around at the room. She watched as Arizona quickly made her way to a shelf where there were a number of framed photographs aligned side-by-side. Callie looked just above that to find family portraits (four, in total) aligned next to each other on the wall. She saw a black-and-white photo of a young soldier (presumably, Arizona's father) in a military uniform. Next to that was an equally aged portrait of a much younger Barbara Robbins.
Next to those two then came another young man (the portrait in color, this time) with bright blue eyes and a proud smile. He was also wearing a uniform. Callie guessed it was her brother. Arizona hadn't mentioned him. She wondered if he was around somewhere.
Next to those three, she then saw a portrait of a younger Arizona – maybe in her early or mid 20's, she thought – smiling brightly and all the same. Though it was a formal portrait, the blonde ghost was wearing scrubs designed for interns. Callie couldn't help but smile brightly at it.
"Oh, yes," Barbara said, following her gaze, "Arizona was very proud to be granted her internship. She refused to take the photo with anything else but those scrubs on."
Upon hearing this, Arizona turned to look at her mother – a little embarrassed, but happy nonetheless. She looked over to Callie and smiled shyly.
"It's perfect," Callie said, meeting her gaze, "She looks perfect."
Arizona's smile grew wider as she kept her gaze locked on Callie's. She turned around and looked at the photos once again. Then she said, "I'm going upstairs."
Callie was a little surprised at her remark – she had hoped Arizona would stay around – but then she thought it right for her to go, to look around at the house she hadn't been inside in so long. What could she do besides make faces at Callie while her mother told her about her? Callie couldn't respond to whatever remark Arizona would have made – so she only nodded and turned her attention to Barbara, who's gaze was still on the family portraits.
So she watched as Arizona turned the corner and went up the stairs.
"It's strange," Barbara suddenly said, "how those photos seem so old now."
"It's like looking into another world, isn't it?" Callie asked.
"Yes," she said, "Exactly."
"May I look?" Callie asked, noting the smaller framed photographs on the shelf.
"Of course."
At Barbara's approval, Callie stood up and walked over to the spot that Arizona had been standing moments ago. Her eyes quickly went over the photographs.
"Who's this?" Callie asked, picking up one of them. A young man stood next to Arizona – the same young man in one of the family portraits that hung just above the smaller ones on the shelves. In this photo, he had a huge grin on his face and was hunched over – carrying a younger Arizona on his back. She was making a peace sign with her free hand, the other arm wrapped around the boy's neck. The sun was beaming down on the both of them – illuminating their bright blonde hair and striking blue eyes.
"That's Timothy, my son," Barbara said. "He died in Vietnam."
"Oh," Callie said, a sudden realization hitting her. "I'm sorry, ma'am."
"Yes," she said, "It was years ago. I didn't think I'd lose my daughter a few years after losing my son."
"We don't expect these things to happen," Callie said, respectfully placing the photograph down and walking back to the couch.
"We don't expect to outlive our entire family," Barbara continued. Callie opened her mouth to respond, but she realized that she hadn't known what to say, so she quietly sat down, at a loss for words.
"I'm sorry," Barbara said, "did you want something to drink?"
"No, no," Callie murmured, "That's alright."
"Okay, let me know if you'd like anything…" she said. She paused for a moment before speaking again. "So, Arizona's research, then?"
"Um," Callie started, already feeling guilty of her lie, "It's really about getting a sense of who Arizona was as a person." She wished she didn't have to lie, but who would believe her if she'd told her that Arizona was still around? No one. She suddenly wished that Arizona had just told her, she wished that she just told her about her life – so she wouldn't have to be sitting awkwardly in front of her seemingly estranged mother – inside a house that even the ghost hadn't been inside of in so long.
Yet, still. She realized then, that Arizona wanted to make herself a reality. She seemed afraid, always afraid that she wasn't real enough to anyone, especially to Callie. Callie had the thought that Arizona was proving to her that she had really existed.
Even if she had retreated upstairs. She was probably proving to herself that she had once existed, as well.
Callie knew then why Arizona had brought her here. It was proof from people who had known her. It wasn't just the words that came out of her mouth – it took much more perspective, Callie thought.
"Arizona was a wonderful daughter," Barbara said. "She always did what was asked of her. Most of the time," Barbara laughed.
"Most of the time?" Callie echoed.
"Well, we were always focused more on Timothy," she said, regretfully. "Arizona behaved in her own manner, doing what she wanted to do as a child and teenager – but she was very close with her brother. She studied hard to become a doctor, she was always in control of the direction she took in life," Barbara explained.
"I see…" Callie murmured. It certainly sounded like her.
"When she went off on her own," Barbara said, "she changed a bit. Maybe a lot."
"To medical school?" Callie asked.
"That, and her internship," she said, "being a doctor certainly changes you, I'm sure."
"It does," Callie agreed.
"She was interested in pediatrics, but Daniel wanted her to become a trauma surgeon. She ignored him, though. Timmy told her to do what she wanted. She never did reach a fellowship… and when Richard told us, I, I was absolutely torn."
Callie nodded and waited for her to continue.
"I feel like we lost Arizona before that, though," she suddenly said, "Before she died, I mean."
"You lost her?"
"Ah, yes," Barbara murmured, the tone in her voice changing. "She changed after Timothy died," she continued, "and I think a large part of that was our fault."
"Why?"
"Well," she sighed, "She became more guarded. She didn't talk to us as much. We didn't support her in the proper way… as a family would. Everything about Tim's death was so choreographed by Daniel… it was something I could handle, I was used to it, I was used to his ways. Everything was planned by him. Arizona had much of that planning in her own life, though she never noticed. But the funeral wasn't something Arizona could handle. She had her own things going on and we failed to support her," she continued, her voice almost choking. "She had her own things going on, too."
"Her own things?" Callie asked – she felt tense, but sad.
"She told us that she was gay," she said, simply. "Right when Timothy died. We brushed her off… Daniel had a hard time with it, I'm not sure how he ever felt about it. He grew silent after she died," she murmured. "Our relationship grew silent when both of our children died."
"And," she continued, "she never came home after Timothy died. Not once."
Barbara let the tears fall from her eyes as she continued, "The last time we saw her again after Tim's funeral was for her own funeral."
"Oh…"
"Richard said she lost control then, in a lot of ways," she explained. "We only knew about her from what Richard told us."
"I am so sorry, Mrs. Robbins," Callie said.
"I told you," the old woman responded, wiping her tears away, "call me Barbara."
"I'm sorry, Barbara."
"Arizona was an amazing daughter," she said. "I couldn't have asked for a better daughter. She saved lives, that's the kind of amazing daughter I had."
"She is amazing."
"What has Richard told you about her?"
"Not much, I haven't had a chance to really speak to him."
There was suddenly a sharp knock at the door and Barbara stood up. Callie only nodded as Barbara went to the door and she stood up and walked over to the photographs on the shelf. She quietly examined them – they were all family photos. Photos of Daniel and Barbara's wedding – the former clad in military uniform. He was certainly a patriot, Callie thought. She looked around the room and noted the abundance of American flags and other signs of patriotism scattered among the walls. Callie never considered how strongly some people loved their country – but here was a family that certainly did.
She heard murmuring at the door and looked at the rest of the photos. They were all side-by-side – a timeline of a family, a life, almost in chronological order. She saw a photo of Timothy as a baby, and then Arizona. Then there were photos of the two, gradually growing up, celebrating holidays, graduating from schools, moving on with life. She noted the difference in atmosphere, the photos never took place in any set location – they really were always moving around. The last photo was just of Barbara and Daniel – older, now. And without children. Callie thought that that must have been the last photo – before Daniel died and after Tim and Arizona had.
Arizona had died, Callie thought again.
Oh, but how wonderful would it be to have known her? To share a life? Callie had a future. There was no future for Arizona, it seemed as though they never would be.
Every moment she saw here was only of the past. Only the past. She felt a sharp pain in her chest and wondered if Arizona had felt it too.
"Dear," Barbara said, walking over to Callie, "I have an appointment right now."
"Oh," Callie said, "I'm sorry for just barging in. I'll leave now."
"It's alright," Barbara said. "Please take your time to explore the house. Arizona's room is just upstairs. We… renovated Tim's room, but Arizona's is there. Have a look."
"What, really?" Callie asked, startled by her invitation.
"Yes, go on."
"But you've just met me," Callie started to say, "And…"
"I get a certain feeling from you, that's all," Barbara told her. "I'm sure Arizona wouldn't mind. I'm sure she would have loved you. Please, go on."
"But," Callie started.
"The fact that you are so hesitant means that I can trust you," the old woman said. "You are a good person, Callie."
"Th, thank you," Callie murmured, almost embarrassed. This woman was so kind. Barbara smiled at her.
"Perhaps later I'll prepare some dinner," she said. "You'll stay, won't you?"
"If time allows it," Callie said.
Barbara smiled and gestured to the staircase and Callie suddenly had the sense that this old woman had changed – incredibly so. She was exceptionally kind, exceptionally trusting. Maybe losing her family had made her that way.
Callie turned around and made her way up the stairs – noting a door that was slightly ajar. Her eyes immediately fell on the pink of the walls – and she had the sense that this was Arizona's room. She made her way inside.
She saw Arizona there, lying on her bed and staring up on the ceiling. She then heard a door shut downstairs – indicating that Barbara had gone out of the house and into the backyard. Arizona grinned at her – almost smugly, Callie thought. Callie felt her intense gaze as she looked around the room, it felt like a teenager's room.
She walked over and sat on the bed, leaning over to brush blonde strands of hair away from the ghost's forehead.
"You didn't tell me I'd be interrogated at the door," Callie lectured, recalling that they should have planned to say something before just knocking on the door of the Robbins' residence. "I didn't have an excuse, what if I hadn't made that up? It's lucky that your mother's a sweet lady."
"That was a good call," Arizona grinned.
"I thought you were an extensive planner," Callie said.
"I am."
"Clearly not."
"But I am!" Arizona protested. "Things like this throw me off. I guess I didn't think about it. I should have. I heard your conversation. Things came back, things I haven't thought about in years. Things I've never bothered to resolve in my mind."
"There was a lot."
"It had me thinking," Arizona said.
"She was sad," Callie explained, "Sad that she didn't accept you. Sad that she didn't reach out and support you. She regrets it all."
"I know," she said, "I was listening."
"Do you hate your mother?"
"Of course not…"
"But-"
"She made Dad and her sound cruel, even though they weren't. Not at all. The way she said it, the way she described how she and Dad felt and reacted" she explained. "But it's my fault too, for not coming home. It's partly just a big misunderstanding. I was just too obsessed with…" she said, her voice suddenly faltering.
"With what?"
"…With Tim's death," she said, almost drowsily.
"What happened?" Callie asked.
"He… died," she murmured, closing her eyes.
"Arizona?"
"I was just trying," she continued, but her words filtered out as she drifted out of consciousness.
"Arizona?" Callie asked. "Arizona!?"
She realized that Arizona was having another trance. She looked over at Arizona, she had stopped movement, she stopped breathing again. And again, Callie was startled. She shook at her shoulders, waiting for Arizona to come back out of it.
But she didn't seem to – it was longer this time. She kept shaking her shoulders. She looked around the room for something – anything, but what could pull her out of it. She saw a small record player in the corner of her room and absentmindedly moved over to it, as if it would pose some solution. There was just a single record that was neatly tucked away. The Zombies, Callie noticed. She wondered what she was doing. She hurried back over to Arizona and sat for a moment, just watching her.
She couldn't do anything. She shook her shoulder, gently this time – rousing her out of her trance. Or at least trying to.
She was about to give up, when suddenly, Arizona's eyes fluttered open.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "Did you have another trance?"
Arizona nodded and gestured to her shut closet. Callie turned around to look at it and then she looked back at Arizona, confused.
"There's a box in there," she said, "with letters."
"Okay…" Callie murmured, feeling uncertain.
"I want you to take them," she continued, "and let's go to the graveyard."
Callie nodded and pulled away as Arizona sat up, going over to her closet. She opened it and noticed the array of aged clothing neatly aligned together. She saw a pink box on top of a shelf.
"Is this it?" Callie asked, reaching for it.
"Yes…" Arizona murmured.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm alright," she reassured her, "I was remembering… my brother's death."
Callie took the box in her hands and sat on the bed again.
"Your brother?"
"Uh-huh… I think you'd understand a little more if you read those letters," she explained. "I became obsessed with his death. When memories come flooding back, I fall into these trances. It happens often because… because I'm remembering again."
"I'm sorry," Callie said.
"Stop, Callie," Arizona told her, "It's not a bad thing. I told you that it's not."
Callie reached out and gently grazed her cheek with her fingers. "Are you sure?" she asked.
Arizona smiled gently at her, and took Callie's hand, bringing it to her lips. She kissed it softly.
"I'm sure…"
###
"Going already?" Barbara asked, as Callie stepped out on the porch of the backyard.
"Just up the hill," Callie explained, "to the graveyard. I'll be back."
Barbara smiled and turned her attention back to the gardener – so this was her appointment, Callie thought briefly.
"Ugh, she's become one of those old ladies obsessed with their gardens," Arizona murmured in soft protest.
###
"Are you sure I can take these letters?" Callie asked, as she walked up the hill towards the graveyard. She had them neatly folded in her hand – her grip almost wrinkling the papers.
"It's fine," Arizona said, "Just put them back before you leave."
"When should I read them?"
"I guess now," she replied, as they reached the top of the hill. There were benches aligned just before the entrance – a strange occurrence to anyone's eyes. Who would want to relax in front of a graveyard? Yet, it seemed appropriate. So Callie read the letters in silence as Arizona sat next to her, gently leaning her head on her shoulder.
When Callie had finished them – she felt something like a lump in her throat. It almost hurt to read them – she felt that sharp pain in her chest again as strange waves of hurt went through her body.
She didn't know what to say.
"I'm sorry, Arizona."
Arizona smiled softly at her and kissed her cheek. "Why be? I just wanted you to have a sense of who my brother was, too."
"He seemed like a good man."
Arizona laughed.
"What?"
"You reminded me of Richard for a second. He said that, too."
"He did seem like a good man."
Arizona stood up and reached her hand out to Callie. Callie took it and the ghost led her inside the graveyard.
"He was a good man," she said.
They walked a little while – and finally stopped in front of Tim's grave. Callie and Arizona both noted the grave before his – one that said Daniel Robbins. She heard Arizona whimper and watched as the ghost's shoulders shook for a moment.
"I feel bad," she said. "My parents' relationship completely fell apart after I died."
"That's not your fault," Callie said, holding her hand tighter.
"It partly is," she explained, "I should have went home."
"You were just trying to figure things out," Callie said, "With Nick. With Tim. It's not your fault, Arizona."
Arizona seemed to absorb her words, she nodded and smiled sadly at Callie. Then she walked over to a tombstone a few steps away from Tim's.
"Look here," she told Callie. And Callie looked.
Engraved on the tombstone was:
In Memory Of...
Arizona Robbins
November 5th 1948 - February 16th 1977
She really was dead.
"February 16th, 1977," Callie murmured. "The same day I crashed my car."
She thought it was strange – Arizona had died on the same day as her and in the same way. But Callie lived. Because of her seatbelt.
"You just did it several years later," Arizona said.
"And I didn't die."
"That's right."
"But you did," she continued. Arizona sighed and shrugged, looking over at her grave again. Her eyes fell on Tim's and Callie followed her gaze.
"I'm sorry about your brother."
"That's all right," she said. "It's over now."
They silently stood there – as if mourning all the deaths at once, though it had been so long ago. It felt refreshing, strangely – and Callie felt closer to Arizona than she had been before. Arizona seemed to be letting go, she thought.
"Why are you wearing navy scrubs then?" Callie asked, suddenly.
"Huh?"
"You died when you were a resident."
"Pediatrics was my dream."
"Ah, right," Callie said, suddenly realizing Arizona's gradual wardrobe alteration and recalling the heelys, "and so the vision of your future self manifested into your ghost form?"
"Right."
They stood for a while – not speaking, not saying anything really, just holding hands in silence and relishing in the closeness between them.
###
After they had returned to the house, Callie swiftly placed the letters back into the box and shut the doors to the closet.
"So," Callie said, "you were just a reckless driver?" she asked.
"I was reckless, sure," Arizona said, "according to other people. But I was a damned good driver, Callie."
"How do you feel now?" Callie asked her.
"I feel okay," she said, "Don't stay for dinner. There's something I need to show you."
###
"Thank you so much for everything, Mrs. Robbins."
"I told you, call me Barbara, Callie," she continued. "And it's not a problem. Please come by again, I'll cook up something nice."
Callie nodded, "Thank you."
Arizona stood and watched her mother intently – Callie hadn't an idea of what she was feeling. Regret, maybe. Barbara had felt guilty, yet so had Arizona. Callie suddenly embraced the old woman.
"Arizona loved you very much," she said. "So don't blame yourself."
Barbara trembled in her arms – and she heard Arizona sigh deeply, a trembling breath. She felt the old woman return her hug.
"Thank you, dear."
###
"That was sweet of you," Arizona said. "You said exactly what I was feeling."
Callie smiled, as she pushed her foot harder against the acceleration. She wanted to get back to Seattle – to find out more.
"You're so good, Callie," Arizona said, "So perfect."
Callie felt her heart leap – and she looked over at Arizona, who stared at her with soft, bright eyes.
"I wish I had met you before," she said, simply.
"Me too," Callie said.
They sat in silence and Callie suddenly felt the need to reach out and kiss Arizona, and sensing this, the ghost reached out and kissed her on the cheek.
"There was Nick," Arizona said, suddenly.
"Nick? Your brother's friend?"
"Yeah, I, I tried to save him," she explained, "I wanted to. I spent so much time in horrible bars, in illegal parties drowned out in loud music and drugs to look for him."
"What?" Callie asked.
"He was, ugh, he was the reason my brother died," she said. "I blamed him for that."
"Right.." Callie murmured, recalling the letters. She hadn't thought Nick was significant, but then she recalled Ellis' journal entries. So he was the reason for the change Ellis noted.
"But then I thought that because Tim loved him, I should save him. I wanted to because Tim would have wanted that. But I couldn't. I didn't. I tried to, but Richard talked me out of it. I couldn't search through those places anymore, so I stopped."
"And then what?"
"And then time moved on. And I saw him again, just once," she explained. "And then I died."
###
Callie sat in her car in a corner of a street near Seattle Grace hospital.
"This is the spot…" Callie started to say.
"Where you crashed," Arizona said, interrupting her. "This is also the spot where I died."
"You don't remember, Callie. You were injured, your head was bleeding, but I was in the ER when they brought you in. They mentioned your location, the exact location, though I couldn't be completely sure," she explained.
"And it was crazy, I thought it was such a crazy coincidence and I had the thought that I didn't want another person to die in the same spot I had, so I came to see how hurt you were. And you were hurt pretty badly. And so I walked beside your gurney as they rolled you in and you saw me, you saw me. And you reached out to me, thinking I was one of your doctors."
"I don't remember that," Callie admitted.
"I know you didn't. I thought it was because you were going to die, and I'm so grateful you didn't. I watched your surgery, I watched your friends worry about you. And I was sure that you saw me – and I was so sure, even when they saved your life. But I had to be sure, so I stayed by your bedside."
"And then I saw you."
"And then you saw me," Arizona repeated.
"That sucks," Callie said. She watched as Arizona's expression fell and quickly corrected herself, "not me seeing you, not that."
"It sucks that we crashed in the same spot but you died and I lived," she continued, "that sucks." She was ready to cry, she felt her eyes burning, she felt herself outraged at the injustice of life.
"It does," Arizona said, "but I'm happy you lived."
"I guess that explains why I see you," Callie said, "because I crashed here and you did, too."
"Right."
"What a crappy accident," Callie murmured.
"Accident, huh…" Arizona repeated, "I guess everyone thinks that."
"Wasn't it?"
"I guess so."
"Why do you guess so?" Callie asked.
"Well," Arizona started, "I mean, it's just a hunch I had…"
"What?" Callie asked impatiently, "What?"
"I think I was murdered."
