Disclaimer: This is AU. I do not own any of the characters from Grey's Anatomy. I just manipulate them to my will. Also, any line or phrase or setting that seems remotely familiar from any other show, movie or book, also not mine. I borrow…

AN: Wow! I got an ENORMOUS amount of response from the first chapter. You guys ROCK! Seriously… I was a little worried that this story may not have much appeal but I seem to have been proven wrong. On to the next chapter. I was going to save this for a few more days just so I can stay a bit ahead with my writing, but you all made me want to update as soon as possible. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

The screaming of Callie Torres's alarm clock is the first thing that greets her ears. But some how its not enough to get the Latina going, instead preferring to curl up even deeper into the warmth of her duvet. If she shuts her eyes hard enough, somehow the beeping fades away and she can almost find sleep again. One minute, two minutes, three minutes of praying for an extra three minutes and pounding on her bedroom door makes her jump.

"Shut that shit up!" A voice calls from the other side of the barrier. With a groan, Callie unfolds herself from the sheets, sets her feet on the floor and staggers over to the small dresser. Not even bothering to open her eyes, a hard fist comes down and lands on top of the offending item. Somehow, the beeping stops, and that's enough for the Latina at this moment in time. Knowing that as soon as she heads back towards her bed she won't have enough will power to get back up, she instead heads out of the bedroom and turns down the small hallway and into the bathroom.

It's early. Too early for most people. Hell, it's too early for Callie. But here she is. Up… and not so happy about it. One look in the bathroom mirror confirms that she looks just as good as she feels.

"Oh god…" She groans when her eyes lock on those of her reflection. After splashing some cold water on her face in hopes of clearing the very thick fog still swirling around in her brain, she takes care of business on the can. Even sitting on the cold, hard surface, she can feel herself start to drift off. Only when her head starts to fall, and instincts take over in whipping her head back up does she realize that she nearly fell asleep with her pants around her ankles.

After brushing her teeth and trying to pull a brush through bed mangled hair, she ties her black locks up into a tight ponytail and heads back to her room. Moving as quietly as possible as to not wake the rest of her roommates, she finds a clean pair of work out clothes and starts to dress. One of the perks about being an athlete such as herself is all the free stuff they get. She will never be in need of a sports bra, socks or running shorts. Once she deems herself ready for another energy packed morning, Callie heads to exits her room and plods through the apartment and out the front door. Slipping the earbuds of her IPod into place and cranking up the volume of her latest workout mix, the Latina stretches out her rested muscles.

"Gotta want it to win it." She tells herself, then takes off at a swift jog, the crisp morning air filling her lungs and clearing her mind.

Blue eyes stare out from behind sunglasses as the blonde walks towards the address written hastily on a piece of paper. It was only four days ago she was sweating her ass off, hoping and praying with a hundred other women to be able to be a part of Team USA and join them in their hunt for gold. Now Arizona Robbins has reached that dream. But… somehow she completely overlooked what she would have to put up with once she had gotten that all exclusive spot… and its not really even hers yet.

"Name?" A young nurse in light blue scrubs asks as Arizona approaches a reception desk.

"Arizona Robbins." The blonde answers. "I'm-"

"Right this way, Ms. Robbins." The nurse cuts her off. Arizona follows the nurse through the maze of hospital hallways until she is placed in a cold room. With a smile, the young woman leaves her so she may get changed into a hospital gown. An unpleasant feeling settles into the pit of her stomach as she strips out of her running shorts and tank top and replaces it with the threadbare gown. There's no reason she should feel nervous or anxious. She's an athlete after all, in the prime of her life and she has never been in better shape. There is no reason that a normal physical should create the gigantic butterflies that are fluttering away inside of her… but try telling that to the butterflies.

As she waits for her doctor… who is probably in his sixties, bald, drools uncontrollably and has terribly cold hands… her mind wanders back to the last few days. After Coach Webber gave her the welcome package, Arizona had a lot of things to straighten out before she could fully call herself a member of the Olympic Team. For one… telling her parents. Now most daughters would look forward to telling their parents this amazing news. But… Arizona Robbins doesn't have the best relationship with the rest of her family.

Then there was the packing her life up into a single suitcase. Saying good bye to all her friends for the foreseeable future. Putting the rest of her life on hold. …It was a feat, yet something Arizona wanted to do. Needed to do. Just to get away from her life which seemed to be getting away from HER for sometime now.

As her mind draws out ugly memory after ugly memory, Arizona finds herself biting at her already torn up finger nails. When she realizes what she is doing, she rips her hand from her face and mentally chastises herself, the voice of her mother sounding in her mind. 'It isn't proper, young lady'. The snarl that crosses Arizona's face is involuntary, a visceral to the scolding tone that seems to follow her everywhere.

Finally a light knock on the door and the doctor appears. "Ms. Robbins." He greets the blonde. Blue eyes appraise the man, not as old as she thought, and definitely not as bald or as droolly. And only time would tell about the hands, but he's definitely not the worst she's had. "Ready to get cleared?" The doctor asks, this not being the first Olympic athlete he's preformed exams on.

"Like you wouldn't believe." Arizona answers, sending up a quick prayer for everything to check out and for her to be able to get that stamp of approval from the medical folks. Just another tick in the long checklist she has before being able to don that Team USA jersey.

After a hard run this morning, and a hard session in the weight room that left her muscles feeling jello like, Callie steps out of her shower and wraps a towel around her firm body. Years and years of physical exertion and athletic conditioning has made her tone and sleek, but being of Latin descent means you will always have curves. And the Latina catcher wouldn't have it any other way.

Just as Callie enters her bedroom, one towel wrapped around her body and another wrapped around the top of her head, she hears the ringing of her cell phone. Digging through pile after dirty pile of laundry, she finally finds the device and brings it to her ear.

"Hey Coach." She answers.

"Torres, how you doing today?" Richard Webber's low tone filters through the cell.

"Good, sir. What's up?" Callie asks, knowing that this isn't a social call.

"Can you swing by my office at your earliest convenience?" Coach Webber asks.

"Of course. I can be there in about 20?" Callie states, trying to find the time but her alarm clock seems to be broken. Probably from her aggressive attempt to silence it this morning.

"See you then." And then the call ends. The Latina quickly towel dries her hair and runs a brush thorough it, then pulls on the first clean t shirt and pair of jeans she can find while making a mental note of actually getting some laundry done during her next free day.

As she hurries through the living room, one of her roommates is laying back on the old beat up sofa, a book in front of her face. "Where you going?" The red head asks without even skipping a word as she reads on.

"Webber wants to see me." Callie answers. "Don't forget, practice is at 2 today. We got that dinner thing afterwards." The Latina adds, then flies out the door and heads the quarter mile out of Victory Village and towards her coach's offices.

Stepping back out into the bright sunlight, Arizona heads back to her waiting car after finally finishing her physical. To say it was a 'normal' physical is a lie. She's never been put through so many tests in her life. Apparently the doctors would rather have athletes drop dead during their little experiments than actually during their respective sports. But after being poked, prodded, and seemingly beaten to a pulp, the blonde passed with flying colors. Now that she has her medical clearance in her hands, she's going to go check in with her new head coach.

With her sunglasses pulled back down over her eyes, she slides into her beat up old Jeep, complete with red clay both inside and outside from all the time she's spent at ball diamonds over the years, and heads over to the softball complex. The streets of Oklahoma City seem foreign to the blonde who has only known small time life. But when Coach Webber said that Team USA eats, sleeps, and breathes softball which means she would have to move to their practice complex, Arizona jumped right on it.

Finding the address Webber had given her was right across the street from the fields that held tryouts, Arizona parks in one of the few spots that have some shade. Her blue eyes survey the very beautiful T-Bird that has nabbed the only other shaded spot, then heads towards to office building. Her eyes are assaulted as soon as she crosses the threshold. Red, white and blue is everywhere, the faces of past champions plastered to the walls. A smile spreads across Arizona's face as she imagines her own picture being up on the wall someday, giving inspiration to future generations of girls like herself.

Arizona makes her way down the hallway, reading name plagues as she passes them. When she passes the only open door there is, someone calls "Hey Blondie!" Stopping on her heel, the blonde backtracks a couple steps and peers through the doorway.

"So… Arizona Robbins, right?" The tall man asks as he stands and walks around his desk. "Mark Sloan." He states, holding out a strong hand for the blonde to shake.

"Nice to meet you. …Again." Arizona says, remembering Sloan was the one who watched her pitch for what seems like hours.

"You here to see the big dog?" Mark asks, gesturing for his newest team member to take a seat.

"If by big dog you mean Coach Webber, then yes." Arizona answers as her eyes survey Sloan's office. Pictures and plagues, signed softballs and trophies are everywhere. Team USA, Nike, and Underarmor posters and clothing items are stacked in tall piles, and a large bowl of shiny red apples is placed in the center of his tiny coffee table.

"He's talking to another girl right now. So… how you liking Okie C?" Mark asks, leaning back against his desk and crossing well sculpted arms over an equally well sculpted chest.

"It's… well, I don't know. Tryouts, and then today have really only been the extent of time I've spent in the city." The blonde answers. "And most of that time has either been spent on the diamond or being used as a medical guinea pig." A loud bark of laughter comes from the man.

"Well, I guess since I have you here I might as well fill you in on a couple things. Like I said, I'm Mark Sloan. I am the catching and pitching coach, so basically… you are mine. Now, I have about three other pitchers on the team, but really only one who measures up to your talent." The man starts to explain as he takes his seat behind the desk again. "That being said, we'll have to wait until practice to see how, exactly, to play you. Uhhh… we practice six days a week. Up until this Saturday we only practice once a day. But from Monday on out, we will be doing two a days. Three on Saturdays. But I will only have pitchers throwing once a day." As her new coach gives her a brief outline of her time to come, Arizona nods along, wishing she had brought a pad and pen with her so she could take notes.

"The team has practice today, but you are excused until tomorrows practice since you have some other matters to take care of. But we DO have a team dinner tonight so wear something nice. It'll be at the little restaurant just down and around the corner. Oh, you have been assigned an apartment, sharing with three other girls but Webber will go over all of that with you I'm sure." Mark scans the copy of Arizona's file, skimming over her history and some of her accomplishments. When his eyes catch a flash of jet black hair streaking past his door, he calls out "See ya in a couple, Torres!" Which makes Arizona peek over her shoulder, but sees no one.

Callie, who had just been dismissed from Coach Webbers office, replies "Yep!" Then is out of the building.

Returning to the blonde in front of him, Mark says "Webber is free now. I'll see you tonight, Robbins." Sloan stands, and the two of them share another shake before the blonde exits the office and continues down to the Head Coaches door.

"Ah, Ms. Robbins. Come in!" Richard greets his newest member with a bright smile. "I see you've met your pitching coach, Mark Sloan."

"Yes, we just talked for a couple minutes." Arizona answers, taking the proffered seat in front of the man's desk.

"Good. Good. He's a great coach. I think you'll do very well under him. Now, how about we get to the matter at hand." Richard asks, pulling on a pair of reading glasses.

"Hi!" A young woman standing at the hostess table exclaims when a showered and changed Arizona Robbins steps through the door of the specified restaurant a few minutes before 8. After her meeting with Coach Webber, the blonde finished up her required errands and appointments, and come tomorrow… she will officially be the newest member of Team USA.

"How many?" The woman asks the lone blonde.

"Ummm… I don't know. I'm with a party." Arizona says weakly, her head craning around as she tries to find one of the two familiar faces she knows.

"What's the name?" Arizona is asked.

"I… I don't.. Umm, Webber?" Robbins answers, feeling really out of her element right now and cursing herself for showing up early making her the first one here. When the hostess shakes her head no, that no Webber party has a reservation, Arizona adds "Or maybe Sloan? Mark Sloan."

"Oh, you with the Softball girls?" The young woman asks, recognizing the name of the famous womanizer. Arizona nods, relieved that someone connected the dots. "Well why didn't you say so hon. Follow me. Ya'll are set up outside on the patio."

The newcomer takes a seat in the middle of the very long table, not really knowing what the usual procedure is and definitely not wanting to step on anyone's toes already by taking their seat. Glancing at her watch every few seconds or so, she curses her strict upbringing again with her mothers constant taunting of 'If you're early, you're on time. If you're on time, you're late.' Five minutes pass and she remains the only one sitting at the table for nearly 20.

Finally, another person shows up. "Hi!" A taller blonde exclaims, sneaking up behind Arizona so quietly that it makes her jump. "New girl, right?" The woman plays, then holds out her hand in a greeting.

"I… Yes. Arizona. Arizona Robbins." She introduces herself, shaking the proffered hand.

Smiling at the nervousness of her newest teammate, the new arrival says "Well, Arizona. Arizona Robbins. My name is Teddy. Teddy Altman." The slight, yet familiar teasing, makes Arizona smile and relax slightly. Teddy takes a seat next to the other blonde and says "The other girls are coming. We got out of practice a little late, and do you know how long it takes 13 women to shit, shower and shave?"

"I-" Arizona is cut off by a wave of more people filling the patio. They are all deep in their own conversation, almost to the point of ignoring their new teammate, that they don't notice her. And if it wasn't for the fact that Arizona had no idea why they would, the blonde would swear that they actually WERE ignoring her.

Once the party has settled in and beverages are being consumed, Teddy leans over and asks "Do you know everyone here?" Blue eyes peruse the group, seeing many familiar faces from TV and other sports media that she had read.

"Kind of… I recognize some faces. But don't really know any names." Arizona answers when she tries to draw up the memory of the woman facing directly across from her, who still hasn't said a word to the newest Team USA member.

"I'll lay it out for you." Teddy says, taking a long drag of her iced tea as she prepares for a speech. "I'm Teddy, as you already know, and I play first. …Only first. It's mine so lay off." She says with a wink. Then starting at the head of the table and moving down she introduces as she points out each team member and their position. "You know Coach Webber. Head Coach. The next guy, with the creepily perfect hair is Derek Shepard. He's our batting and base running coach. The red headed guy is Owen Hunt, he's our fielding coach. And you've met Mark Sloan, pitching and catching." Arizona nods, remembering the four men from her tryouts and what area's each were assigned to monitor and grade.

"Now for the players…" Teddy starts. "The other skinny blonde is Meredith Grey. She plays left field. Next to her is Christina Yang. Right field. Then there is Miranda Bailey, and she's the best center fielder I've ever seen. The only one that can keep the twisted sisters in check."

"Twisted sisters?" Arizona questions with a raised eyebrow as Christina says something that makes Meredith roll her eyes in exasperation.

"Grey and Yang. They… have their issues. Just don't poke the bear and you won't get bitten." Is the only advice Teddy gives out, then continues on down the line. "The skinny brunette is Lexie Grey but we just call her Little Grey. She's second base and also our teams record keeper. Like literally… everyone's stats and records are locked in her head like a vault, both ours and our opponents. I could ask her what the count my last at bat was. Not just count, but pitch order. …It's creepy, but helps to have that kind of information when you're on the field."

"I'll bet…" Arizona murmurs, imagining what it would be like to be able to recall a batters last record and be able to use information to take them on again.

"The skinny redhead is Addison Montgomery, and she plays second as well. She's also our second string first base man." Teddy adds with an eye roll, hating having to share her position with anyone else. "The black girl next to her is Naomi Campbell. Sort of a utility player. Webber can stick her anywhere and she plays like a beast. She also pinched for last years first string pitcher a lot. Next to Naomi is Julia Canner. Also a pitcher, but plays a little bit everywhere. Then there is Charlotte King. Another utility player, pitches some too I guess. But only when we are running thin in the bullpen. Pretty good outfielder. …And then next to King is Amelia Shepard. Pitcher."

Cutting Teddy off, Arizona asks "Shepard?"

"Yeah, she's Derek's younger sister." Teddy confirms the other blondes suspicions.

"Close team huh?" Arizona asks, surprised at this little piece of information.

"You have no idea." Teddy sighs, making Arizona think that she is only getting the first layer of information about her newest team. "So Addison, Julia, Naomi, Charlotte and Amelia. Then… The squirrely red head is April Kepner. She more second string, outfielder type player. An alternate basically. And… the blonde at the very end is Erica Hahn. Third base, and back up catcher." Teddy says, completing the rotation of the table.

Blue eyes scan the crowd, mentally repeating each woman and where they play in hopes of not making a complete fool of herself when she gets introduced. But then she sees another woman, dark haired, brown eyed and an amazing complexion rejoin the party after coming back from the restroom. She takes the seat right next to Erica Hahn, a tight smile on her face but a look of concentration furrowing her features… like she's attempting to solve the world's problems.

"What about her? The dark… brooding one?" Arizona asks, indicating the Latina with a slight nod of her head.

Teddy follows her new friends gaze and says "Oh! That's CT. World class catcher."

"CT?" Arizona questions, dipping her eyes when those of the woman in question catches the blonde staring.

"Callie Torres." Teddy explains around a mouthful of chicken parmesan. "We call her CT because whenever anyone from another team meets her on the field, they need a CT scan afterwards. Of all the runners who have challenged her to home plate, I think I've only seen two come up alive. …Not to mention she's a power hitter to boot." Arizona just nods, storing that information away for later, just incase she needs to know who to steer clear of. After another couple minutes of shoving her face Teddy says "Oh! And she's one of our co-captains. Hahn is the other one." Again the smaller blonde just nods as she picks away at her chicken sandwich, feeling very outnumbered in this sea of women.

Callie Torres has spent the entire dinner chatting up both Webber and the other coaches, as well as her fellow co-captain, Erica Hahn. Some say Callie is all work and no play. But the Latina counters with 'What if your work IS your play?' Even months out, the first string catcher is talking strategy and opponents with anyone and everyone who will listen. She can feel this year is going to be big, in a good way. She craves gold, even if it means spilling a little blood along the way.

"Who is that?" Erica pulls her fellow co-captain out of her thoughts. Brown eyes follow the path of steel blue ones and land on a blonde that seems concentrated on something that is being said by Teddy, who is sitting right next to her.

"New girl. Pitcher. …Alabama Something." Callie says, also picking at her chicken sandwich. "She's pretty good. Saw her work at tryouts."

"I don't like her." Erica says after a couple seconds of studying the newest member as her fingers aimlessly trace the lip of her water glass.

"And how the hell do you know that, Erica?" Callie asks as she shoves a fry into her mouth. "You haven't even met the girl yet.

"She's replaced Jennie. That's how I know." The Latina's close friend spits back. Jennie, Erica's pitcher, is the reason why Team USA had tryouts in the first place. Not a lot is known as to why the woman made such an immediate departure from the Team, which means theories have taken on a life of their own and it seems that the more time has passed, the more dramatic the theories become.

"Now I have to break a whole new girl in." The blonde adds with a snarl, making the Latina laugh. "Hey… what if the tables were turned and Amelia left? How would you feel having to break in a new one this close to Opening?" There, the older woman has her. Callie knows how hard it is to find a pitcher and catcher who seem to mesh together. Amelia and Callie have been working together for two years, and are nearly to the point where neither of them have to speak and the other knows what they are thinking.

The clinking of a knife on a glass makes all side conversations cease and all eyes find the interrupter. Coach Webber stands and smiles as his gaze falls on that of his entire team. "Alright, ladies… and gentlemen." He adds for his fellow coaches. "I'd like to introduce all of you to the 2012 USA National Women's Softball team." A round of applause fills the air as the women cheer themselves and their team mates on. "Ms. Arizona Robbins…" Webber points to the now blushing blonde halfway down the table as all eyes turn to her "….has filled the last slot in our roster this year. Let me say that I think she will bring an enormous amount of talent to this already extraordinary group of women I see before me. Now… as you all know, we only have about three weeks at home then we hit the road. We will be playing the best of college teams all over the country to sharpen our skills before flying across the pond and taking on the rest of the world's best." Tension and anticipation fills the air. Callie's mouth is almost watering as she hears just how close the big dance is and Arizona's butterflies start to flutter tenfold.

"So… with that, I bid you all good night. Get some sleep and tomorrow we hit the fields hard." Webber says, wrapping up his speech. All the players and coaches applaud, everyone of them looking forward to the long road that lies ahead. The girls disperse, their warm and comfy beds calling their name. Arizona follows the flow of players out, sticking close to her one and only friend.

"Night all." Callie calls to the group, getting a collective 'night' then heads back to her place for some much needed sleep.

When the group dissipates down to a handful, Arizona turns to the taller blonde and asks "Is it just my imagination or… do they not like me?"

"Don't take it personally, Robbins." Teddy says, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. "It's not you that they don't like… it's what you represent." With a strong clap, the first base man starts to stride off towards the parking lot, leaving a very confused Arizona behind. Completely lost as to what that meant, she nearly misses Teddy yelling "Come on Robbins! You're bunking with me." With that, the newcomer hurries towards her car, ready to get settled into this stage of her life.

AN2: So… a lot of information to take in this chapter. Ya'll still sticking with me? Anyone got any ideas as to what's going on behind the scenes? A lot of people are in play… who knows what is coming our way. Am I still being predictable? ;-) hahaha…. Let me know what you think!