She's a brand new girl.

She never thinks about it. When you're all brand new you can't stop to think about the old you. She just keeps moving. Keeps hopping from case to case. Tries to have a kid. Loses the kid. Tries to have an affair. Fucks that up too. Tries to fix things with her wife. Doesn't go well. She's a brand new girl and nothing fits.

So she takes on a new specialty. She used to be good with parents and great with kids but now she has to be extraordinary with parents and nothing to the kids. Kids are more perceptive. They see the pain when she's been on her leg too long or sense her frustration when this brand new girl has to go up against that new old life. The kids are tiny. They fit in one hand. They can't sense that she's a brand new girl. They don't notice when she tired or hurt or depressed. They just give her results. She treats them right and they live and parents sob and hug her and her new mentor smiles and nods in approval.

For a brand new girl that's just enough.

She has longer hours. It'd be a problem but Callie is on the other end of the hospital shoulder to shoulder with Owen saving lives.

Arizona can stay up late doing paperwork in her office. Sofia spends time with her. Sometimes on her lap, sometimes on the couch. She sleeps or cries or watches movies and the best times, the ones that put a smile on Arizona's face when she's going to bed late at night, are when it's all quiet. Just Sophia on one side of the desk and her on the other. Fingers tapping at the keyboard. Medical discoveries unfolding before her eyes.

That would never have been enough once upon a time, but it's fine for this brand new girl.

####

She kisses Callie's shoulder. It's bare. The strap of her shirt has slipped down her arm and there's a wide expanse of smooth skin.

There's something intoxicating about Callie. She's vibrating. Not angry or devastated or on cruise control. Not content either. But there's something.

Arizona kisses up her shoulder. To her neck. She moves fluidly straddling Callie and taking her in.

"You're beautiful," she says.

Callie doesn't say anything back. Her hands are pressed to Arizona's back rubbing lazy circles and one leg comes up to offer support if she needs it, but otherwise she's still. Her face a mask.

Callie's the expressive one. Callie talks and cries and every hurt and joy plays across her face. But tonight she's smooth and still. It's too familiar.

Like a mirror. Arizona tries to shatter it with tongue and lips and fingers.

Her hand is between Callie's legs and she thrusts forward trying to drive away the mask on her wife's face.

God damn it. She knows that face.

She presses her other hand against the wall for leverage. Her wrist aches. Her fingers cramp. But Callie isn't in love or lust. Her eyes are dark and distant even as they watch Arizona. Taking her in. Filing her away.

"Please," Arizona pants.

Her thumb brushes a bundle of nerves. She should hear a sigh or a moan. See more than just flushed cheeks. Callie is always so breathless. Her nostrils flare and she always looks at Arizona like she made the world.

There. A crack. Emotion seeping through.

Tears have filled Callie's eyes. Her hands rise to cup Arizona's cheeks and they cool.

She's panting now. "Stop."

But all Arizona can do is gasp again, "Please."

Callie rises up. Surging into a long aching kiss. She comes with a gentle tremor. "Stop," she whispers again, her lips to Arizona's ear. "It's over."

The mirror splinters.

"It can't—" Her fingers are still inside Callie and she flexes them up, seeking another long tremor, but Callie's legs part and she pulls back even as she kisses Arizona again.

"I'm so sorry." Her thumbs stroke Arizona's face. Her lips. Her eyes seem to commit Arizona to memory.

She's finally shattered the mirror. Taken off Callie's mask. And what lies behind breaks her heart.

"I kissed Owen," she says. Like Arizona's fingers aren't inside her. Like they're at the dining room table taking turns feeding Sophia. "It was wrong. But it didn't hurt."

Arizona swallows. "And I hurt."

Callie is crying nows. She's always been so expressive and the tears flow freely. "I love you," she says. Her voice cracks with the truth of it. "I love you."

"But I hurt you."

She's crying too she realizes. Callie keeps blurring and it's all wrong. Moments like this are supposed to be clear.

Callie's thumbs catch the tears. Wipes them away. "We hurt each other." She's resigned. Her voice suddenly flat. "We just keep hurting each other and I can't—I can't lose what little bit of you I have left."

She can't lose the friend. The one who listened when her parents disowned her or when she was furious with Mark or when she was ranting about work.

Arizona's other hand is still pressed against the wall, the muscles in her arm straining. She carefully drops it and her body falls onto Callie. They're both clothed. It isn't skin to skin. It's hot and uncomfortable and once upon a time it was perfect.

She tilts her head so she can lay it upon Callie's chest. She listens to her heartbeat. Slow and steady. She remembers the crash. Remembers lying on Callie's bed and listening to her heart and willing her to live.

"So what do we do?"

Callie's breath catches in her throat. Her chest hitches. Like she's going to cry again. Arizona closes her eyes and tries to remember lying in bed after the shooting. Naked and connected. Breathing in sync.

Her hand clutches at Callie's shirt.

Callie's hand combs through her hair. It's soothing, but it makes the ache building in her chest all the more pronounced.

"I…I'll sleep in the guest bedroom."

"No I—"

Her fingers press into Arizona's scalp. "No. It's my turn to be the bad guy, Arizona. Let me take it."

"Don't." She looks up. Their eyes meet. "Don't try to make me hate you."

"Don't you?"

The thing is…

She doesn't know. Everything in her head is so noisy and she's gotten so good at setting it aside. Compartmentalizing. Focusing. Finding just one thing that's right.

That used to be Callie.

She smiles and she knows it's all wrong.

Callie smiles too. It hurts more than waking up without a leg.

"You were the love of my life Callie Torres."

####

Arizona Robbins is a brand new girl.

Everything's changed.

Everything's lost.

It's all wrong and forced to be right.

But there's one constant.

One thing she will always be sure of.

Once upon a time she loved Callie Torres.