Thank you all for the wonderful reviews.

To the Anon that inquired about Arizona's trance & Tim's letters: Those were seen and explored in the chapter prior to the last (Chapter 9).

Chapter ending inspired by Natsuo Kirino's Real World


"Murdered?" she asked. "You were murdered?"

"It started when…" she started to say, but her words seemed, again, to falter. How could she tell her story? With fluidity? Without attachment? Callie wondered.

The ghost stayed quiet for a while, and Callie shut the car's engine off. She took off her seatbelt and leaned back, watching as Arizona's eyes glazed over. Watching her distant expression, she was scared for a moment. So she took her hand.

The blonde looked up at her, then. And she began to speak this time. As if letting go.

###

January 1976

He told her to let it go. And she had. For a long time, she felt she had. Her life was going well – everything seemed to be falling into place again. It was as though her life was a gradual puzzle that she was slowly piecing together. Sure, the puzzle had completely fallen apart not so recently. But now she was constructing it again – firmly, this time. That's what she thought.

Now when she thought of the prospect of her life "going well" – she thought only of her career. It was going in a marvelous direction. Not quite like Ellis', though she'd been working her way up again. She'd been retaining her position as top Resident again. Certainly, she'd given up the role of Chief Resident to Ellis due to her prior negligence, but she posed rivalry to her again, which made the stern woman exceptionally happy.

Yet, there were moments when she heard things that brought her back.

Of course, it was at the hospital. She hadn't a social life – nor a romantic life. She'd never fallen in love before. Crushes in high school, maybe – some, in college. She was too career driven to become susceptible to the charms of another woman. And she hadn't told anyone that she liked women, not back then. Not until she'd told Richard and Tim and her parents. Her only friend seemed to be Richard. And sometimes Ellis – when the woman felt like being more than her colleague, when she wanted to chat over a drink after work.

But there were moments, she thought. With the arrival of another overdose or recovering addict who'd taken a relapse, she'd hear things. Of course, it was not by chance. She deliberately went to them – she'd volunteer to take the case and to discuss, to talk with them. To understand why, where, and how.

Especially where. And so, with this, she'd been granted the knowledge of another party – another place where she might find him again. She rarely ever did find him, she thought. Maybe once or twice she'd find him in those parties she'd scouted – she'd find him among a crowd, or dancing under flashing lights, or sitting in the corner, tripping out. And when she'd approach him, he'd never recognize her. Ever.

Conversations were never fluid – she'd always get there too late. When his mind was gone. He couldn't hear the words she had to say. Sometimes he'd laugh when she told him to stop what he was doing – and then she'd feel danger looming around the corner – she'd feel suspicious eyes on her. What was a woman like her – a woman who was so against this, doing in a party like this?

So she'd retreat, she'd always retreat before she put herself in danger.

Now she'd found him again. And he'd been talking to her. Because for once, it seemed, he'd been okay to talk to her. He'd only been drinking, she noticed. She guessed she arrived earlier than anticipated, or maybe he arrived later than anticipated. Whatever it was, it was in good luck, she thought.

A chance.

So upon entering the dive bar, she saw him sitting there, next to his friends or whoever those people were, just drinking. Drinking, she thought – and he reeked of it, she discerned. She approached him, and gave her greetings. He was always meeting new people. This time wouldn't be any different.

His eyes were glazed over, he was drunk. He eyed her up and down before his gaze fell on her face. She watched him, watched as his pale eyes clouded – she watched him scratch at his ruggedly brown beard with his pinky finger. He seemed surprised for a moment – she thought it was the resemblance she had to her brother. She thought for a moment that he recognized her. But then he grinned at her – and put down his drink to signal at the strange, disheveled bartender for another, which the man promptly placed beside her. He grinned at her again, briefly showing his amputated arm and wiggling his eyesbrows, and then laughing aloud when she said nothing. He was clearly flirting. Or at least trying to.

He was a strange man, she thought.

"Thanks?" she laughed. "But I've got my own," she said, showing him the glass in her hand.

"Aw, what is that?" he protested. "Whiskey? That's not hard enough, you gotta try Johnny's concoction, man."

"I'm good," she told him, "I'll pass on experimenting with concoctions tonight."

"It's always good to experiment," he grinned, leaning closer to her.

"I'm sure it is," she said. "What have you done tonight?"

"Not much, just a few pops. I could let you have some, if you want."

"Sure," Arizona said, pausing as he quickly reached into his pocket, "But maybe later." She wasn't going to stick around longer than that, she thought.

He frowned momentarily before taking his hand out of his pocket. He quickly popped something into his mouth before speaking again. "You alone?" he inquired, taking a sip of his drink.

"No, with friends," she lied. She wasn't sure how to feel about him – she only had a loose impression of him from Tim's letters. But the photo of his family seemed to take its place in her mind – a young family. He was a father, she thought. A father sitting here on a weeknight, getting drunk and high.

Do they even know? She wondered. Do they?

"Where're your friends?" he asked.

"Somewhere around," she said, dismissing the inquiry. "So," she smiled, "tell me about yourself?"

He grinned, gesturing at his arm with a tilt of his head.

"I was in the war."

"Vietnam?" she asked. "That's rough."

She must have given a strange expression (the memories of that war only revolved around Tim and his death), for Nick started to quickly explain himself.

"People don't," he started to say, but coughed abruptly before speaking again. "People don't hate on me for it, not like you'd think, not the way you're thinkin' now," he tried to explain.

"Uh," Arizona murmured, uncertainly.

"Especially here. People here. They hate the war. And you're a pretty girl," he said. "Pretty girls always got this strange impression about me."

"Sounds like you have strange impressions of pretty girls," Arizona retorted. He only ignored her.

"My point is that I didn't wanna go. But I had to. We all had to," he explained. "So I was in the war and I lost my arm, but for a good cause."

"A good cause, huh," Arizona murmured, her anger flaring inside. A good cause? Her brother's death? His family's ruin? She wondered why he was suddenly explaining himself. She briefly thought that maybe her blue eyes and blonde hair did remind him of Tim. A lapse of guilt?

"What do you do?" he asked her when she said nothing further.

"I'm uh," Arizona started. To say she was a doctor would be a silly thing. "A writer, I'm a writer."

"Yeaah?"

"Uh huh," she murmured. "What do you do?"

"I did a lot of mechanical stuff!" he told her, happily. "Lots'a mechanical tinkering!"

"That's so cool!" she exclaimed, faking excitement. How could this man have a day job? But then, he said did.

"It's hard with one arm, y'know!"

"What kind of mechanical stuff?"

"Like engineering, I'm an auto mechanic!"

"Groovy, I dig it!"

"Yeaaah!" he grinned, tipping his glass to her.

"So you're not a mechanic anymore?" she asked him.

"Nah," he said. He left it at that.

"What do you do now?" she asked.

"What I'm doin' now."

She looked to his arm – noting the ring still on his left hand.

She sipped her drink, and something made her say it. She didn't want to wait until he drowned himself further in his intoxication. "So you don't remember me, then?"

"Wha?" he asked. "I met you before?"

"What does Cathy say about all this?" she asked again.

Startled, he dropped his glass onto the table and pulled away, almost defensively. "Who the hell are you?" he asked her, eyeing her intently. She said nothing, she only watched him. And then she watched as his eyes grew wide with realization.

"Arizona?" he asked.

"Nick," she started. "You need to stop."

"Will you stop fuckin' following me around!?" he exclaimed, pounding his hand on the table now. The loud conversations around them settled down as others turned their attention to the commotion between the two, there was suddenly light murmuring heard and the music flowed out.

"You… knew?"

"Of course," he scoffed. "People always told me afterwards… that you'd been there a few times – I don't remember cus I barely remember your face, but god, now I remember," he continued.

"You have a family," Arizona emphasized.

"I know that," he spat, "that's none of your fuckin' business."

"But it is!" Arizona yelled.

"What business do you have in my life!?"

"Your life?" Arizona asked. "It was supposed to be my brother's life!"

Nick stopped for a moment, he seemed to calm down. His expression fell at once and he lowered his voice.

"Look," he said, "I'm sorry about your brother."

"Stop wasting your life," Arizona said. "Stop wasting the life he let you have. Stop. Tim wanted you to stop this lifestyle. You have a family. You're not doing anyone any good… I've seen patients like you, I see them all the time and-"

Before she could continue, she felt herself being pulled roughly backwards. She didn't have any time to react before she felt her back slamming hard against the wall. She felt the breath knocked out of her and tried to inhale, but was suddenly lifted by the collar of her shirt and pushed up and harder against the wall.

She gasped out and opened her eyes to see the disheveled, rugged bartender in front of her. Ready to hit her, it seemed.

"Johnny," she heard Nick say. "Quit it."

"I knew she was trouble," he said, grasping her collar tighter before pulling her back and shoving her against the wall again. "Doctors," he said.

"Ugh," she gasped out.

"Let her go, alright," he demanded. "She's gonna stop, she'll stop," he rambled. "Let her go, let her go."

The bartender listened and loosened his grip on her collar and she slid down the wall, trying to catch her breath. She coughed.

"She's gonna stop," he reasoned. "She won't follow me again."

"Next time she does, I'll kill her," the bartender spat. "We don't need fuckin' doctors here."

He bent down and pulled her up roughly by the arm. She pulled back defensively. The crowd had moved in – they were all glaring. She was like an intruder, a spy – though doctors weren't the law. People hated to be judged.

She looked at Nick – one more time, she took a long look at him. He only watched her with his sad eyes, nervously scratching at his beard. She said nothing and turned around to leave. Luckily, she thought, they all let her go.

And so she ran out, gasping for breath. Her eyes teared up. Let him waste his life, then. It was his life. Let him ruin it.

She was done.

###

February 1977

She sat on the steps leading to her apartment building, quickly fastening her skates as she prepared to leave for work.

"Morning Arizona," she heard behind her.

"Oh hey, Pam. Good morning!" she grinned, balancing herself as she stood up.

"Always a hasty one, you're really quick with those skates."

"Yeah, but it's such a pain to strap them on, I wish they were just part of my shoes or something," she groaned, picking up the canvas pack that sat on the step just below her. She swung it over her shoulder and bid a farewell to her neighbor, quickly gliding down the street.

She'd left her car parked at the hospital for the sole reason of skating to work in the morning. It was something she needed at least once a week. There was nothing more refreshing to her than skating in the brisk morning with her coat on.

The Seattle air was especially brisk – almost freezing. Her fingertips were cold and seemed to be frosting over. She briefly thought about buying gloves, but she didn't bother to stop. She needed the cold wind to breeze past her and wake her up accordingly.

Seattle was going to freeze tonight, there was a huge winter storm that was due to begin this afternoon. So she'd left her car there overnight to drive home later. She had it all planned out.

Upon reaching the hospital, she sat down before the entrance and unfastened her skates – grinning as she noticed Richard approaching her.

"Morning, Richard."

"You skated to work?" he asked, baffled. "In this weather?"

She only grinned at him, her dimples popping out. She slipped off her skates and put them into her bag, then pulling out a pair of canvas shoes as Richard plopped down next to her.

As she was lacing her shoes, Richard dug through her bag and found a pack of cigarettes.

"Hey!" she protested.

"You don't smoke. I need these."

"You don't smoke, either. Besides, those are mine."

"These are Tim's," he refuted, slipping a cigarette between his lips.

"They're Vietnamese, you know," she said, possessively taking the pack away from him and tossing it back into her bag. "So I'll never be able to get them again."

Richard only shrugged as he lit the cigarette and took a light puff. He coughed almost immediately.

"Hah, doesn't suit you."

"You either. I blame Ellis," he murmured.

"What did Elly do?" Arizona inquired.

"She's driving me crazy, that's what."

"Why?"

"She wants me to leave Adele."

"Are you going to?"

"Never."

"Then leave her," Arizona said, simply.

"No, I can't."

Arizona only rolled her eyes, and then stood up as she noticed Ellis coming from the parking lot.

"Okay," Arizona said, noting her glare from afar. "See you," she said, leaving the scowling woman to deal with her indecisive friend.

###

She sat there, quietly eating her lunch. She chose the Resident's lounge to relax, opting for the quietness of the room in contrast to the noise of the cafeteria. Suddenly, she heard scampering footsteps and looked at the door, watching as the knob slowly turned.

It turned and stopped, spinning back, as though the person had suddenly changed their mind about entering. It rumbled again and then turned – fully, this time. She noticed as the person struggled to open the door. A tiny girl entered the room, pushing the door back as far as she could manage. Noticing her struggle, Arizona walked over and let her inside, shutting the door behind her.

"Zo-Na!" the little girl exclaimed, reaching her arms out to the woman.

"Hello, Meredith," she cooed, picking the child up and holding her to her chest. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "Where's mommy?"

"Hiding," Meredith answered.

"Hiding?" she asked. "Mommy's hiding?"

"No, Zo-Na," she said. "Hide from mommy!" she corrected.

"You're hiding from mommy?"

"Ya!" Meredith exclaimed, burying her face into Arizona's neck. The child seemed strangely sad and Arizona briefly wondered if it had something to do with Ellis' attitude toward Richard. Perhaps she was taking it out on Meredith?

She walked back to her seat with the child in her arms and sat down.

"Are you hungry?"

Meredith looked down at her lunch platter and scowled, burying her head back into the woman's neck.

"Nuh uh."

"What did mommy do?"

"Mommy mad."

"Mad at you?"

She only shook her head and murmured, "Mommy scary."

Arizona knew how enraged Ellis would become when it came to matters regarding Richard. It was probably about Richard. She knew that Meredith hadn't understood Richard's presence around Ellis, but the child seemed to understand that it was an unspoken topic that greatly affected her mother's mood. She sighed, and hugged the child tighter.

"I'm sorry, honey," she said, rubbing her back.

"Mmm…" Meredith drowsily murmured as she started to fall asleep.

Arizona sat there for a while, attempting to feed herself from her lunch platter with her free arm while the child slept against her chest. She soon heard the door open again and found Ellis standing there with a scowl on her face.

"There she is," she grumbled, walking over to Arizona.

"She's sleeping," Arizona told her quietly as Ellis abruptly stopped and sat down in the chair across the table.

"Good," she groaned, and uncharacteristically put her head down on the table.

Arizona said nothing, only watched her curiously, while slowly finishing her lunch.

"Richard," Ellis started.

"I don't want to know," Arizona said, interrupting her from speaking any further. "I know you hate when I say this, but quit taking it out on Meredith. She doesn't deserve it."

"I know that," Ellis snarled, picking her head up. "I know that, it is not my intention to…" but she trailed off.

"It's not my place to tell you how to be a mother," Arizona murmured, rubbing the child's back again.

"Why won't Richard just leave her?"

"I don't know."

"You understand him."

"I can't tell you what he'll do, Ellis," Arizona replied. "But I know your daughter doesn't deserve your anger."

"I would leave Thatcher if…"

"No, no," Arizona said, hurriedly. "I don't want to hear it." She felt bad for a moment, observing as Ellis' face fell. The woman put her head back down on the table and it was suddenly quiet again. They just heard the soft breathing of the child curled against Arizona's chest. It was the only time Ellis wanted to really talk about her personal life, but she just didn't want to hear it, she thought.

Still, she couldn't help but feel bad. She liked to fix people.

"Cheer up, Elly," Arizona said, suddenly. "I'm sure it'll be…"

"You wouldn't know," the woman grumbled, though her arms muffled the sound.

She picked up her head again and looked seriously at Arizona.

"You've never been in love."

###

Outside, the snow began to fall. Arizona hadn't noticed the intensity of the snowfall until she glanced at patients and visitors coming in. She made her way to the pit and awaited the mass of cases sure to come in.

Just then, Richard approached her from behind.

"Shit," he said. "My car won't start."

"How long is the blizzard going to last?"

"Only tonight."

"Stay overnight, then."

"No," he said, "no way. I can't be trapped with Ellis right now. She wants to kill me."

"She does, but she also loves you."

"I love her too."

"I don't get you two."

"That's cause-"

"I've never been in love?" Arizona said, in an almost sarcastic tone.

"What?" Richard asked. "No, I wasn't gonna say that."

"Whatever. I'll give you a ride home and then I'll drive back to the hospital," she said, running to the doors as the first emergency came rolling in.

###

And that first emergency was Nick. Particularly, Nick escorting a friend. They had gotten into a car accident and his friend was gravely wounded. Arizona briefly noted that that same friend was the bartender that had thrown her against the wall just last year.

But he was still a patient. And she was not put on his surgical case.

No, instead, she was bandaging the minor wounds that the intoxicated Nick had from the accident. An intern's job, but she insisted. Much to his displeasure.

"I know what you're gonna say," he murmured, as she slowly wrapped a bandage around his wrist.

"Uh huh," she murmured back. "Still on it, I see."

"I'll always be on it," he spat, "None of your business, either. Leave me alone."

"I'm not trying to follow you, it's just my job to fix your wounds."

A large part of her had given up – yet, something about this man enraged her. Something made her insist on taking his cases when he came into this hospital. His recklessness. Sure, she shared the same recklessness when it came to driving or skating or other things, but it wasn't destructive to other people. Only to herself.

Yet, this man was always putting other people in danger. In the war. Her brother. After the war. His friend. Other people on the road, people who weren't intoxicated or under the influence. His family.

His family, she thought.

"I'm gonna wait 'til Johnny's okay," he said.

"Of course, Nick."

###

She had phoned Nick's family. His wounds were only minor, but she still informed his wife. She had to. And Cathy seemed to have known. The tone of her voice on the phone was exceptionally calm. The calm before the storm, Arizona thought.

Cathy came in, briefly noting Arizona, before heading towards her husband.

Initially, there was murmuring. It progressively turned into a loud, heated argument. And then cries. Cathy left him then, hurrying away. She seemed done.

Rushing away.

She was not the one that was crying.

Nick was.

And so Arizona went to him. To show him something, to communicate something. She liked to fix people. This should have been a lesson – she hadn't an idea of what they discussed, but then she saw his red, enraged face and backed away.

This time, it was he who grabbed her by the collar of her scrubs and threw her against the wall. She pushed him off quickly – he had power for a man with one arm. He kneed her hard in the stomach before slamming her against the wall again.

She yelled out and lost her breath, feeling the pain strike through her body.

"You bitch," he yelled. "I'm going to ruin your life the way you ruined mine."

As quickly as she had been struck, he'd been pulled away roughly – detained by Richard and then by security. He tried to get out of their grasp and go to her again – he was in tears and red in the face, his eyes blazing just at her.

"You ruined my family!" he yelled again. "She left me, she left me!"

"Calm down!" Richard barked, pulling him away.

Nick seemed to quickly note his loss. She only saw his eyes as she stood up – his striking, angry eyes. She had never seen eyes so angry before.

"Come on, now!" someone said, pulling him away. And then she remembered the bar, then she remembered her brother's love for him.

"Wait, wait!" Arizona yelled. "Let him go, he's under a lot of pressure."

"Doctor Robbins."

"Please, please."

###

It took much deliberation. Assault on a doctor was not something taken lightly. Especially by a notorious substance abuser. Yet somehow, it was managed. Somehow.

They found her ridiculous. They pitied her; they thought she was too lenient, too kind. They had told her to go home, but she insisted on sticking around the hospital. She didn't have to work on cases, she could spend her time reading journals. Going over charts.

But she did promise to drop Richard home. He refused, insisting that he'd stay with her, that they'd talk about it – or just read journals together. But she was shaken and insisted. She didn't want it to show. She left the hospital with Richard – both of them trudging through the piles of snow in the front of the parking lot. They quickly maneuvered around it and reached her car.

"Your stomach okay?" Richard inquired.

"Just fine."

They both got into the car.

"So, are we gonna talk about what happened?" Richard asked her, pulling his seatbelt on.

Arizona glanced at him for a moment – she briefly thought about it, but rather than starting a conversation, she instead started the ignition and flicked the radio on.

"Put your seatbelt on," Richard ordered.

"Nuh-uh," she refused, pulling the lever of her car and setting off to drive.

Well, no one told me about her.
The way she lied.

"Oh, I love this song."

"Arizona-"

"Well, no one told me about her," she sang along, ignoring Richard's protests.

"Arizona-"

"How many people cried."

"I'm just going to-" he started to say.

"But it's too late to say you're sorry," she sang.

"How would I know, why should I care.."

"I'm just going to talk over you!"

"Please don't bother tryin' to find her…"

Richard grew sick of her singing, she was clearly ignoring him – the way she drew each verse out, the way she was speeding – clearly that encounter earlier had completely thrown her off. He flicked off the radio.

"Stop speeding!" he yelled.

"She's not there," she sang, right when Richard shut it off.

"Hey!" she protested, slapping her palm against the steering wheel. "That was my jam."

"It's old."

"You're old," she retorted.

"Good comeback," he scoffed.

"Screw off."

"Arizona."

"What?"

"That guy hit you. But his words seemed to shake you more," he explained, concerned for his fellow colleague and friend. "What the hell did he say to you?"

"He said he was going to end my life the way I ended his."

"Just why…"

"That guy was Nick."

"What?" Richard asked, agape. "What?"

"It's alright," she said. "It's cruel to have told him that he doesn't deserve his life. Tim didn't give him his life…" she murmured. "It's just the way things turned out."

"The way he slammed you against the wall?" Richard asked. "That guy is fucked up."

"I think he'll get better now," Arizona said. "He's angry, but he'll get better now."

"Why do you think that?" he asked. "For god's sake, stop speeding!"

"Because when you've lost everything, you realize that you need to change something about yourself."

###

"I heard there was a commotion," Ellis said, entering the Resident's lounge. In her arms was a sleeping Meredith. A rare sight for the cold-hearted Grey. "Bothering with that boy again?"

"It's fine now," Arizona told her.

"Where is Richard?"

"I dropped him home."

"Damn it, Robbins."

"Give it a rest," she said. "Go home, Elly."

"I am going," Ellis said, "I will take a few days off to reassess myself."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Arizona asked.

"What?" she asked. "To my house?"

"If you need the company," Arizona murmured, fumbling with her thumbs. She was nervous. Nick's words had left her incredibly nervous and she had no idea why, "Forget it."

"I am not attracted to you, Robbins," Ellis said, in attempt to joke.

Arizona only rolled her eyes and said, "Good night, Ellis."

"I will see you soon."

Ellis left. And Richard was gone. The hospital was quiet. She wasn't on any case for the night. That had been her last. She wondered where Nick had gone. They had let him go. So reluctantly, they let him go. And she was fine with it.

Maybe she'd go home, too.

###

So she drove through the storm. She'd parked in front of the hospital, and there were no cars parked in front of her, but for some reason, she felt incredibly wary.

It's like her feet were loose.

Everything about her car was faulty – but she was greatly aware of their faults. She was incredibly intimate with her car. She knew the degree to which her car was damaged, how far she could take it, how sharp she could hit the brake before a red light.

She knew its limitations and its capabilities. And she was comfortable with that.

Yet, tonight she hadn't felt comfortable. She turned the corner – a few streets away from Seattle Grace. The roads were slippery; too much, she thought. Her car had no heat, the frost was blinding.

And she was skidding. She was a fast driver, reckless – but damned good at being reckless. She managed her recklessness just fine.

So she took a sharp turn, knowing when she'd hit the brake. Knowing its limitations, knowing its capabilities. Letting the frustration go. Easing her nerves.

It was only a moment.

It shocked her to an extent that she couldn't quite understand.

Her feet pounded, they pounded at the brakes. And she was startled, bewildered – they were unresponsive. So loose did they feel under her foot. So loose. She looked down in that moment, that short-lived moment, she looked down – startled.

Suddenly furious, furious at her faulty brakes. She didn't look up again, but she felt the sensation. Her heart leaping with realization. Those words. The absence of a seatbelt. Those words. The impact. The sensation of flying. "What kind of mechanical stuff?" A single crash. "Like engineering, I'm an auto mechanic!" Those words. A single crash. A total fatality. Flying, she was flying. The glass flying, piercing, marking, cutting.

A single sensation took over as her eyes shut, as she felt herself die.

She was flying.