Her bedroom door slammed open, and Callie groaned, pulling her pillow over her head. The first few times Cristina had stormed into her room like she owned it had occurred right after she moved in, and each time, it made Callie jump and shout in surprise. She'd also thought that Cristina was angry with her because of it.

She soon learned that no, Cristina was not angry with her when she stormed into her room as if in a rage. That was just Cristina.

Her pillow was taken from her grip, and instead, she had a letter placed over her eyes, "Is this going to be a regular thing, now? You having this personal correspondence? Because if it is, I suggest you start checking the mail downstairs every day instead of me."

Dark brown eyes opened and she scanned the envelope – not like it would be from anyone else – but she was excited to see that it was from A. Robbins. It had been a little over a week she had sent her letter, and she didn't get a response.

She'd been thinking that maybe she wasn't going to get one, because… well, she wasn't an idiot. She knew that this might be considered weird, and if A. Robbins hadn't intended on becoming regular "pen pals" as Cristina called them, then when would he/she/they cut it off?

Her fingers hesitated before she ripped it open, so she could spare a moment to glare up at her roommate, "Hey, I told you that I didn't mind picking up the mail every day. You're the one with the key!"

Cristina shrugged, as she dug her hand into the box of cereal she was eating, "Yeah, you offered, but you were working crazy waitress hours. You would have had the key when I got back from school, therefore interrupting my relatively normal schedule." She crunched loudly on her breakfast for a moment before asking, "Hey, don't you start rehearsal today?"

Just the mention of it made Callie's heart beat faster in her chest, and a smile appear on her face, despite the fact that she was so not a morning person, "I do. Aw, you listen to me when I talk. You do care! And nothing about you is normal," she shot at her with a grin.

To which Cristina just nailed her with a dead-on, wordless stare, before she sidled out of the room, closing the door after her. Callie assumed she did as much to discourage Callie calling out to her to talk more.

Quickly, she opened the letter, skimming her eyes over the words.

Dear Callie?

On that note, I'm going to start by saying, I feel silly addressing letters to someone without a last name. Unless I was writing to Madonna, but she and I haven't corresponded with each other in quite some time.

And you can ask why the novel doesn't bring luck, but it doesn't mean I'm going to answer. This is only our second letter; I don't think we're there yet. A true gentlewoman would buy me dinner first.

But, congrats to you for getting cast as a Broadway role! That's very impressive. For the story-for-a-story exchange, I will tell you that once upon a time, I was forced to join chorus. It was fine when I was allowed to hum in the background, until the day that the teacher made everyone audition for a solo.

I was nearly laughed out of the room, and I have never and will never sing in public again.

Also, I maintain my disbelief in terms of fate. An unlikely coincidence is what I would call the supposed fate of our interactions.

Enjoying my mysteriousness,
A. Robbins

With a grin, she noted that because of her early wake up call from Cristina, she had just enough time to write out a response before she got ready to leave.

To the absolutely unfair "A. Robbins" –

You expect me to tell you my name when you still won't tell me your first name? I feel like I'm writing to a serial killer. I don't even know if you identify as he, she, they, or any combination thereof!

Anyway. Poor little A. Robbins, being shamed by your singing. But how can you decide to never sing again? Even in the shower? Everyone sings in the shower.

Since you won't tell me the story behind the novel you gave up for adoption (yet), I will ask you another question instead: what do you do at the University of Pennsylvania? Are you a student? A professor? A janitor who secretly lives in a basement?

Though I suppose if you were secretly living there, having me write you letters there wouldn't be hiding your secret very well.

I'm telling you this in the promise of good faith,
Callie Torres

P.S. You're entirely wrong about fate, though. Because the day I received your last letter, was the first day of rehearsal!

As she dropped the letter into the mailbox on the way out, she had no way of knowing that this would officially start the regular correspondence between she and one A. Robbins.

If she thought that life was exhausting before starting rehearsals for the play… well, that was almost nothing compared to what it was like now. Grueling hours of memorizing songs and lines and dances.

It was both the best and the worst time of her life, and that was only a week into rehearsals.

Groaning, she tossed her head back against the wall as she leaned in to massage her calf. It had started to cramp up during the second dance session earlier that day. Gritting out a breath, she opened her eyes and looked around the room at all of her co-stars.

Many of whom knew each other from previous works they'd done in theater. There was Mark Sloan, the male lead, whom she had heard about from many rumors on the circuit. Though, as she watched him flirt with one of the women who would be teaching them choreography, she wasn't entirely sure everything she'd heard were rumors.

For some reason, she'd had the idea that when she finally landed role in a play, that her fellow cast members would be somewhat like a family. And that after spending her fourteen months of loneliness in the city, that it would finally show her where she belonged.

She'd imagined that after the first rehearsal, everyone would gather around the metaphorical water cooler and crack some jokes. Talk about other musicals they'd seen. All go out for drinks together, and that as the days went on, they would become fast friends.

It turned out that she was wrong. Well, wrong in terms of herself. Because many of the cast members did get together with one another. And after the first rehearsal, those of the cast who knew each other got together and went out afterward.

But they did so while casting furtive looks in Callie's direction.

She chose to think it was because she was the new girl. Or, at least, she tried to tell herself that was the reason.

"Half hour break! Go get hydrated and grab something light to eat, because when the break is over, we're not getting another one until the session is over," came the voice of the choreographer, who had apparently finished talking to Mark.

As if it was planned – and perhaps it was – those of the cast who were also in the number filed out the door together, presumably to grab something to eat.

She remained where she was, and dug into her bag to pull out the energy bar she'd put in there this morning. In a way, she thought with a small grin, it was lucky that she wasn't invited to the cast hangouts; her bank account didn't need that kind of stress.

Reaching into her bag again, she pulled out the copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, and pulled out the envelope she'd received in the mail earlier, that she had stored in the book. More aptly, the envelope she'd received when Cristina had tossed it to her through the crack in her door, and had landed with frightening aim on her bed.

For someone who claimed to dislike team sports as much as she did, she was certainly pretty good at throwing things in the direction of her head.

Callie Torres AKA the girl who finally has a full name,

I appreciate your faith in me, though I will tell you right now that I'm going to let you down. I enjoy having an air of mystery! If you guess my name, I will tell it to you. So… guess away! I will tell you that it's "she" name.

And I don't sing in the shower. Nope. When I'm in the shower, you will hear only the water running and resounding silence, from me. But there are always people talking, anyway. I live in a sorority house; I never get to be in the bathroom completely alone.

I'm not the creepy janitor, either, thank you very much. I'm a student! Perhaps one day a professor, if that's where my career leads me.

Can I ask what show you'll be in? Anything I might have heard of? Even though I'm not exactly "up" on Broadway, I will admit. Don't mock me like chorus did, please.

Have you started rehearsals?

Not a serial killer (though that probably is what a serial killer would say),
A. Robbins

P.S. People created the word "coincidence" for a reason!

Laughing, she rolled her eyes before she dug into her bag to try to find the pen she'd thrown in there. Before she frowned, when she didn't come into contact with anything, and she picked up the bag to prop on her lap so she could dig through it, and she was coming up empty.

When the voice next to her asked, "Didn't feel like going out for a snack tonight?" she snapped her head up, and shook her hair out of her eyes.

And immediately felt intimidated, because Addison Montgomery was looking down at her with an amused smile. The redhead was without a doubt – in Callie's mind, anyway – one of the most talented people in all of the cast. Callie had actually gone to see her in a play that she'd appeared in last year, and had been blown away. She was also engaged to one of the best directors in the business, and hailed from a family of producers. And currently, she was playing Callie's best friend in this musical.

Clearing her throat, she shrugged, "Uh, well, it's not really up to me. I get the feeling I'm not entirely welcome. Maybe I have to pay my dues first."

Addison lifted an eyebrow at her, before pointing at the spot on the floor right next to Callie, "Can I?" she slid down when Callie scrambled to move her bag, sighing when she stretched out completely, "It's not paying your dues."

"Hmm?" She asked, as she started to slide the letter and book back into her bag.

Addison glanced at her out of the side of her eyes, "It's not paying your dues; they're jealous. You've never been cast in anything before, and you come from an open casting call, and swoop in as the lead. You're obviously talented. But they don't think it's fair." She leaned over to stretch, before saying, "It sucks for you, but that's the way it is."

"Lovely," she mumbled, and shook her head. Because she might not be the same girl that she was in high school, who chewed on her hair in the back of the class, but apparently, it was still who everyone thought that she was.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, Addison sighed and pushed herself up, "I'm kind of jealous, too."

And then she walked away, leaving Callie sighing behind her. As she rolled her eyes, she picked up her bag to prop up against the wall, and as she did so, her eyes landed on the pen she'd been searching for before.

A(re you freaking kidding me?) Robbins,

Fine, I will guess. Even though I paid good money at the bookstore to track you down, so I feel it's rather unfair of you to toy with me. How can we be good pen pals when I don't even know your name?

Amanda? Alyssa? Amelia?

You live in a sorority house? Interesting… at my old college, I didn't really know any of the sorority girls. I equated them to the cheerleaders, who were people that I've been scared of since high school. I share my bathroom in my apartment with a roommate, but I sing when she's there and when she's not. Even when she tells me to shut up.

Alicia? Abigail? Adriana?

A student, hmm? I take it you're not a freshman, because you already live in the sorority house, though I will admit that I'm not exactly "up" on the inner workings of how those matters work. What do you study?

I'm going to be in a show called Altered Affection. I won't mock you for never having heard of it before, because it's never before been on Broadway.

Alice? Alexis? Alana?

I have indeed started rehearsals. I'm enjoying it on one hand, but on the other… Have you ever found that something that's supposed to be great can also be extremely isolating?

I am out of guesses,
C. Torres

P.S.

Callie tried to think over what she could write back to inform her pen pal that fate did indeed exist, in terms of their letters. And she just shook her head, with a small grin.

P.S. In desperate need of a pen to write this letter back to you, one suddenly appeared on the floor next to me.

Callie gave-up-guessing-too-early Torres,

You spent money to contact me?! Now I am both reconsidering the complacency I had let myself feel in thinking that you weren't a stalker and also disappointed that you managed to track me down after just finding my name in a book, and yet you can't guess the name.

I not only live in the sorority house, I am the president of the sorority. …And I'm also a cheerleader. I suppose it's a good thing we don't go to the same school, otherwise we apparently would never talk.

I don't think I would complain if I had someone who is good enough to make it in a musical singing in the shower. Your roommate probably enjoys it, even if she (he?) says (s)he doesn't.

I'm studying pre-law; I'll be in law school by next year.

Can I ask what the plot of the play is? Or must it remain a mystery? Top secret info?

I find that everything that is supposed to be wonderful is isolating. That's what is means to be the best; you're either alone at the top or you're mediocre and wishing you were at the top.

It is a difficult one to guess,
Arizona R.

P.S. Now you're just getting desperate.

Callie found herself grinning at the meticulously written cursive writing that she now associated with A. Robbins. A. Robbins who now had a real name. And a name that she never would have guessed, so she was thankful that the other girl finally revealed it to her.

She traced her finger lightly over the words that Arizona had written her – alone at the top or mediocre and wishing to be at the top.

But she refused to believe that was how it all had to be. So, she slowly slid the letter back into the pocket in her bag, before pushing herself up and surveying the area. They were currently in the middle of a six hour night rehearsal where they were running over the songs from the first half of the musical, and while she managed to keep up during the dancing practices and choreography lessons, singing was her thing.

Where she shined.

Where she was, as her pen pal said, at the top. Which seemed to make the growing tension with her cast mates even worse than it had been before. And instead of the first couple of weeks, where she was feeling left out… today, it frustrated her.

Using that feeling in the base of her stomach, she stood from the corner of the room where she typically sat, and made her way over to where Addison sat, also a few feet away from everyone else.

With a deep breath, she pushed aside her inherent desire to not speak up, "You said last week that you were jealous, too. If you're in the same boat as the others, why don't they hang out with you, either?"

Surprised eyes looked up at her, measuring for a few seconds, before answering with, "I have my own issues with them. And my own issue with you, is more personal than theirs."

Callie merely lifted an eyebrow in question before the redhead continued, "You beat me out for the lead, you know. I'll get over it. As for everyone else, just screw them."

Arizona! Robbins,

You're right, it would have been a difficult one to guess, and I don't think I would ever have guessed it. In fact, I know I wouldn't have, so thank you for taking mercy on me.

And I had to spend money to try to contact you! There was no other way for me to get the knowledge of where I would be able to send my letter. I'm glad I don't have to pay you for the info, though, my bank couldn't take it.

…you're the president of a sorority and a cheerleader? Huh. Not exactly what I had imagined, but it somehow makes you more mysterious to me. What is a girl like you doing, writing back to me? Shouldn't you be… running around, ruling your campus with an iron fist?

Furthermore, ruling with a studious iron fist, Ms. Law Student. I'm kind of intimidated! Is there anything else you do, Wonder Woman?

It's kind of… a love story in reverse. Maybe you should just come see it!

I mean, you don't think that's kind of cynical? Also… sounds like you're speaking from experience. But I will admit that while it's cynical, it is kind of true.

It's nice to know that even though it can be lonely, I have a friend to write letters to who shares in lonesome experiences.

CT

P.S. The day I received your letter, an amazingly talented performer admitted that I beat her out for this role. Another piece of excellent news on such a "coincidental" day.

Callie ached all over, as she walked up into her apartment. They were almost a month into rehearsals – which meant they only had another month left before opening night – and everything was getting kicked up a notch. They were beyond the stages of learning the words, tune and pitch in songs, beyond learning the simple choreography of the performances.

Now it was getting serious. They were moving into actually having their rehearsals in their actual theater, and today was the first day of that.

Today was the first day that she had performed on the stage that would, hopefully – should Altered Affection go well – become her home for quite some time. And while exhilarating… it just meant that everything was getting kicked up a notch in intensity.

And, much as the production was beyond the basics of the singing and dancing nuts and bolts, she was beyond the attitude of her cast mates. After a month, it no longer bothered her.

Because she didn't need them to feel less lonely, not anymore. She didn't know how or when, but Arizona had become her friend. Maybe friend was too much? After all, their relationship was based on letters back and forth, a few times a week.

Regardless, she thought as she stripped out of her clothes and dropped them to the floor of her bedroom, before falling onto her bed without bothering to put on pajamas or clean – both of which could wait until tomorrow morning, it was what it was. Cristina had come to enjoy mocking her for her pen pal friendship.

But she liked it – not the mocking – so she wasn't going to question it.

She was, however, going to question the fact that she hadn't heard from Arizona in over a week, which had been the longest time that she'd waited to hear back from her in over a month. And she briefly wondered if it was pathetic that she missed her letter-friend.

Well. Pathetic it might be, but it was the truth.

Sighing, she turned her head into the pillow, only to be stopped by the scratching of paper against her cheek. Frowning – because if Cristina was going to keep placing her bills on her pillow even though she knew that half of the time when she came home from a night rehearsal, she collapsed into bed without looking, they were going to have some words about it – she reached under the cloth and pulled out the envelope, squinting at it in the darkness.

Thankfully, it was not a bill.

Hey,

Sorry for the late reply. And sorry it's so short.

It's the end of the semester, so things are getting stressful here.

But a girl like me? Someone is making assumptions! For all you know, I could be lying. I could be a sociopathic liar.

I'm glad I have a friend in you, too.

Hope rehearsals are going well! The show is almost here, right?

Sincerely stressed,
Arizona

Hi there! I know that this might be starting a little slow, but I do promise that Arizona herself will be making her appearance!

Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think! Thank you so much to everyone who did so last chapter!

Also, to answer some questions, I don't have this story pre-written, but I do have an outline for it!