Um…so remember how, like two months ago, I said I wouldn't take nearly as long to get chapter 4 published as I did with chapter 3? Yeah, I suck. I am SO SORRY. I could go into all the reasons and excuses for why it took such a ridiculously long time, but honestly, it's not even worth it. I don't even know what happened to the whole month of August, really. I hope people still remember that this exists and want to keep reading, even if, when Grey's comes back, this becomes totally AU. The title for this chapter is from a song of the same name by the Indigo Girls, and the chapter was beta'd by the illustrious englishstrawbie, who eats bowls of awesome for breakfast and is seriously the best.


In the dim light, Callie found herself beginning to see things more clearly. Arizona had fallen asleep almost as soon as her eyes were closed, and it was no wonder. It was only late afternoon, but after the emotional rollercoaster of the day – visiting with Alex and Sofia and brutally lashing out at Callie, only to lay all of her feelings bare for her in the end – she was understandably worn out. Callie watched her wife sleep, knowing that even when she rested, her mind didn't take a break. Behind her closed eyes, images of the crash and the different outcomes her subconscious cooked up played like a slideshow. It caused an almost tangible ache in Callie's chest to know that even though she was sleeping, Arizona still wasn't truly restful, and she would wake up just as pained and downtrodden as she had been before.

Callie rubbed a hand over her face. She herself was exhausted and completely rattled. This was what she had meant when she had talked to Mark. Arizona was unpredictable, jumping from sad to angry to happy to terrified and back again, and Callie had no way to predict her mood from one moment to the next. She had kept a brave face, but walking into her wife's room and being accused of cheating and breaking promises was unnerving. Having that much anger directed at her, even for just a few minutes, had made Callie's heart beat out of her chest.

She was supposed to return to work tomorrow and Arizona was…she didn't even know. Mad? Scared? Grieving? Furrowing her brow, Callie recalled a conversation she'd had with Owen a few weeks after his night terror when he had woken up choking Cristina. He had recounted his own issues: his irrational anger, the flashbacks he suffered on a near-daily basis, and the dreams that plagued him at night when he should have had a chance at solace. He talked about sadness, mood swings, and closing himself off from the people he cared about the most. Callie thought about the way Sofia had suddenly thrown Arizona into a downward spiral of guilt and despair. She replayed the conversation they had afterward: Arizona hadn't wanted to talk, but once she did, her words had been haunting and heartbreaking. She clung to Callie with such desperation, like Callie was the only buoy in a miles-wide expanse of bottomless ocean.

What Callie had known all along, but not wanted to believe, dawned on her with finality, becoming glaringly obvious in the darkness of the room around her. Arizona had post-traumatic stress disorder. Who wouldn't after going through what she had?

But Callie wasn't a psychologist. It had been years since she'd even done her psych rotation. She was returning to work tomorrow, she had a baby, and PTSD was bigger than she was. It scared the shit out of her, quite frankly. What if she couldn't give her wife what she needed? What if the next thing she said or did made everything even worse? Callie was scared, she was overwhelmed, and she needed help.

Maybe Mark had been right.

Glancing at Arizona and reassuring herself that she was still asleep, Callie slipped out of the room. She ducked into an empty exam room down the hall and pulled out her phone, hitting a familiar number on her speed dial. The other line picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Barbara, hi. It's Callie." She let out a nervous breath. "How soon can you and the Colonel come out here?"


Knowing that Mark didn't blame her wasn't enough. Knowing he had called her a hero wasn't enough. Knowing Sofia and Callie loved her unconditionally was better, but still not enough. The bottom line was that people could say whatever they wanted, but Arizona knew where she stood. She knew what she believed.

She ruined people.

Never mind that she had thrown herself over the body of a child to protect her from a deranged gunman or that she had made her own daughter's heart beat.

"People come near me and they die," Arizona said aloud, her voice bouncing in the emptiness of the room. Hearing the words spoken, she could hear how ridiculous they probably sounded. She could even hear another voice in her head – funny how her voice of reason sounded much like Callie these days – telling her that she actually did the very opposite of ruin people. But Arizona couldn't ignore hard evidence. People came into contact with her and then, some undetermined length of time later, horrible things happened to them. She was cursed. Arizona never used to believe in superstition.

She used to believe in optimism, in sunshine and rainbows. She used to believe in hope, pink bubbles, and happy endings.

She used to believe in herself.

So much for that.

Had Arizona been in the same room as Reed Adamson or Charles Percy when they had died? Had she been anywhere near George O'Malley, Henry Burton, or even her own brother at the times of their deaths? No. Arizona knew that. But there had to be a reason, some reason that the universe kept knocking her down, kept destroying people in her life. If the reason was her, maybe it could begin to make the slightest bit of sense. Her body was broken; her head was full of darkness, fear, and grief lurking in every recess. She was like a black cloud of terror, despair, and compromised mobility. Was it really such a leap to believe that she brought destruction wherever she went?

"I ruin people," she said. "I ruin everything."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

If Arizona hadn't had one leg firmly braced to her bed, she would have fallen off in her surprise. She had been certain she was alone in the room. Trying to slow her racing heart, Arizona took a deep breath and finally registered who was walking through the door.

"Dad?" she croaked. She cut her gaze to the woman hovering over the Colonel's shoulder. "Mom? What-what are you doing here?"

Barbara's hands flew to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, my baby!" she exclaimed, hurrying to Arizona's side. Arizona just blinked, stunned and overwhelmed by the sudden company.

"What are we doing here?" Daniel repeated incredulously. "When you find out your only living child was in a plane crash, you want to see her as soon as possible." He ran a hand over his face. "We would have been on the first flight out here but when we called, Callie told us to wait."

"And we were going to come anyway," Barbara continued. "But then I got a terrible cold and we thought we'd better not. Callie said you had an infection."

"Y-yeah," Arizona replied, still trying to adjust to the new situation. "I did. But I don't anymore."

Barbara's shoulders slumped in relief. "We heard about the crash on the news." Her voice cracked a little. "We tried calling as soon as we knew, but we couldn't reach anyone. Callie called us a few hours later and said – she said –" Her voice broke entirely and a rush of silent tears streamed down her face.

"She said you'd just gotten out of surgery and were still asleep, but she and Dr. Bailey thought you'd make a full recovery." Daniel's voice was a little shaky too. "Man alive, Arizona," he breathed, pulling up a chair. "We were terrified. I think I aged ten years in the past week and a half."

Arizona cleared her throat. "Sorry," she said quietly, keeping her eyes trained on her lap.

"Oh, no, don't apologize!" Barbara cried. "We're just so glad you're okay." She grabbed Arizona's hand. "How do you feel?" Her eyes drifted to Arizona's left leg. "Does your leg hurt?"

"I'm okay." She knew she was being short, not to mention downplaying the severity of her situation, but something about her parents always made Arizona want to shut down her emotions. "I'm just on a mild painkiller now. The infection and the embolism cleared. My leg is sore, but mostly it's just stiff." Barbara squeezed her daughter's hand while Daniel ran a finger over the metal rods surrounding her leg. "I don't know how much Callie told you, but my femur was too badly damaged. She had to replace it with a titanium rod. I have to stay like this for another month or so, and then I get a cast for six more weeks." Both parents breathed heavily, taking it all in. "So, wait," Arizona said. "Why are you here today? Were you just waiting for Mom to get over her cold? And how did you find my room? Where's Callie?"

Barbara and Daniel exchanged a look over Arizona's head.

"Callie met us downstairs, but she had to run to a surgery," Barbara said. "She told us where to find you and she said she would be by later."

"She called us," Daniel finally said after another pause.

Arizona raised her eyebrows. Funny, she didn't remember Callie running that by her. "She did? When?"

"Yesterday," Daniel replied. "She mentioned she was starting back to work and we thought maybe she could use some help with Sofia. We wanted to come anyway, so we figured it was good timing."

"How is Sofia?" Barbara's eyes lit up at the mention of her granddaughter, and she hoped that changing the subject might distract Arizona from asking any more questions about why she and her husband were there.

Arizona smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "She's great." She was trying, but she had yet to come to terms with what had happened yesterday when Sofia had visited, and it scared her that she now had an association between her daughter and such fear and anxiety. "She looks more like Callie every day. And you won't believe how big she's gotten."

Barbara's eyes twinkled. "I can't wait to see her. Callie too. It's been way too long since we visited." She glanced at Arizona's leg again. "But maybe next time you could do something a little less dramatic to remind us."

Arizona attempted a laugh, which came out more like a whimper. Inconspicuously, Daniel shot Barbara a look and shook his head. Sadness registered on Barbara's face. Callie had told her that Arizona wasn't doing well, but she still hadn't been prepared to see her daughter like this. Arizona was always so vibrant, so full of life and love. This downtrodden Arizona was such a far cry from the way Barbara always thought of her and it broke her heart.

"So," Daniel began, hoping to point Arizona in the direction of optimism. "Callie tells us you'll be good as new in a couple months. That's something. Amazing work she does."

Arizona nodded. "It's pretty impressive," she said almost robotically.

"It is," Daniel agreed, not letting her end the exchange so soon. "Sounds like you'll be back ruling your ward with an iron fist in no time."

"Yeah, I guess." Arizona blinked. "But I already have a titanium leg, so let's leave the iron fist for someone else." There was an awkward silence, both parents surprised by Arizona's lack of affect as they struggled to find a safe topic, but it was Arizona who spoke first. "Nick came to see me a couple weeks ago."

"Nick?" Barbara raised her eyebrows. "Nick Palladino? I haven't seen him in years!"

"Since Tim's…since Tim," Arizona said quietly.

Barbara lowered her eyes. "Yes," she said somberly. "How is he doing?"

"Not well." Arizona struggled against the lump that had appeared in her throat. "He…he's dying."

Barbara clamped a hand over her mouth.

"What do you mean he's dying?" Daniel asked in a harsh whisper.

"He has cancer," Arizona replied. "He had a tumor in his leg diagnosed six years ago that he didn't do anything about. We thought Callie could help him, but it was too advanced. It had spread to his heart. Teddy and Cristina – some of the best cardiothoracic surgeons we know – there was nothing –" She paused to sniffle and choke back a sob. "Nothing they could do."

"Oh, no," Daniel breathed out. "Oh, no." Barbara didn't speak for a fresh onset of tears. Nick may have been Arizona and Tim's friend, but that didn't mean he didn't have a special place in Barbara and Daniel Robbins' hearts, too.

"He knew he was dying," Arizona choked out. "I thought he came for Callie's help. But he-he came to say goodbye."

"Oh," Barbara gasped. "Oh, Arizona. That poor boy."

Arizona fixed her mother with a steely glare. "Do you know why it took him six years to get treatment?" Getting silence in response, she pressed on. "He was trying to protect me. I was such a mess after Timothy died that he needed to be there for me instead of letting me help him for a change. He knew I wouldn't be able to handle seeing him sick, so he waited until he thought it would be the best time for me. He spent six years slowly killing himself so I wouldn't suffer." Her voice had gotten louder, angrier, as she spoke. "Now my best friend is lying on some beach in Belize just waiting to die. Maybe he died today for all I know. Tell me, how does that spare me suffering in the slightest?" Arizona held her mother's gaze. "Don't feel sorry for him. You don't get to do that." Then she turned to her father, angry tears welling in her eyes. "And don't tell me I don't ruin people." She cast her eyes to the ceiling. "Maybe you should go. You're here to help with Sofia, right? You don't have to sit here with me. Go see her."

"You're our daughter, Arizona," Barbara whispered. "We want to see you. We've been aching to see you since we heard about the crash."

"Since before that," Daniel chipped in.

Barbara nodded. "We love you."

Arizona swallowed thickly. This wasn't okay. Her parents and their quietly persistent presence were making her feel things, things she couldn't process or fully understand. Things she didn't feel safe delving into without Callie beside her. Arizona's parents made her feel like she had to make a conscious effort to be someone. Tim was the one who had died and Arizona was the one who had lived, and while no one had ever said as much, she felt as though she had to be two people for her parents. She felt like she had to be Tim and Arizona or, at the very least, twice as much Arizona.

She was all her parents had left. Arizona bore the brunt now of all of her parents' scrutiny; all of their worry, all of their pride, all of their expectations. She had strived to be the best all her life, to make her parents proud, but now that her brother was gone, the ever-present pressure had increased twofold at the very least. And while neither parent had ever said to her, "Arizona, you must be strong, brave, and resilient at every possible moment," she still recognized the unspoken words as truth. She had to be all of those things and more. She had to be perfect. Tim was the one who had died. It was the least she could do.

But right here, right now, Arizona was none of those things.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence – there seemed to be a lot of those today, Arizona noted – Daniel cleared his throat. "Well," he said, "Arizona does have a point. Barb, I'm sure you're itching to visit Sofia. Why don't you go see her? I'll join you in a moment. There's something I want to ask Arizona about." Arizona's whole body tensed. Barbara hesitated and started to protest, but she caught the pointed look her husband sent her. She gave Arizona's hand one last squeeze before standing and excusing herself from the room.

Daniel repositioned his chair, giving himself a better view of Arizona's face. "So," he said. "How are you really doing?"

"I'm f–"

"And don't say you're fine."

Arizona sighed. "I was in a plane crash, Dad," she said with a distinct edge to her voice. "How do you think I'm doing?"

"Okay, that's fair." Daniel rubbed a hand over his chin. "But Arizona, I…we're worried about you."

"That's why you're really here, isn't it?" Arizona snorted. "Mom's going to coddle me while you watch me like a hawk. While you make sure I'm acting exactly the way I'm supposed to." She rolled her eyes. "To Colonel's standards, of course. Or did Callie tell you to come and babysit me?"

"Arizona, you know that's not –"

"Or are you just here to tell me you're disappointed in me?"

"Why on Earth would I be –"

"I keep telling you, I am fine. I can take care of myself. I'm literally nailed to this bed. It's not like I can fall and hurt myself. I don't need your worry or your pity or your judgment."

"Damn it, Arizona, we already lost one child and we nearly lost another!" Arizona was stunned into silence. "You are alive. Your mother and I aren't going to apologize for wanting to see for ourselves. You're a parent. I know you understand."

Arizona swallowed thickly, remembering Sofia in her first few months of life. Hadn't she sat by her daughter's side whenever she had a free second? Hadn't Mark and Bailey literally had to drag her away more than once? Even now, weren't there nights, particularly after hard cases, when she just watched Sofia sleep, reminding herself that her baby was here and whole?

"You're just here to be my father?" Arizona eyed him warily. "That's it?"

"That's it. I don't know why that's so hard for you to believe."

Arizona sighed and picked at her fingernail. "You're not supposed to see me like this."

Daniel sat up a little straighter. "Like what? Injured? Do you not remember getting your tonsils out? Or the time Tim's baseball hit you in the head?"

"No," she said, suppressing a smile at the memory despite herself. Tim had gotten in so much trouble for that. "Like this. Weak."


Sighing in frustration, Callie threw her phone down onto the bed beside her. Arizona should have been home an hour ago. The nightgown Callie was wearing should have been discarded in a heap on the floor long ago. But no, much to her chagrin, she was still dressed and the body paint still sat untouched on her nightstand. She had tried calling and texting Arizona – more times than she wanted to admit – but there had been no response. Maybe the surgery had run long or there had been complications. Callie considered that option, but even if that had happened, Arizona would have called, or at least had someone call for her if she couldn't herself. Callie had tried calling Mark, too. She tried Meredith, she tried Lexie, she tried Derek, she even tried Cristina. No one had answered.

For a brief moment, Callie thought about calling Julia. Maybe she had heard from Mark. Maybe Owen had heard from Cristina. Maybe Zola's babysitter had heard from…

No. She was being ridiculous. At any second, Arizona would burst through the door, apologizing for being late. She would laugh at Callie for being silly. Then she would set to work on Callie's nightgown and she wouldn't say anything else coherent for a long time.

Callie checked her phone again. Still nothing. Damn it.

The next thing Callie was aware of was her phone ringing next to her. Finally. Unaware of how much time had passed, Callie wiped away the small trail of drool that clung to her cheek and answered.

"Arizona? Where are you?"

"Callie."

"Owen?"

"Callie, ah, Dr. Torres, I need you at the hospital."

Squinting, Callie glanced across the bed at the clock on Arizona's nightstand. It read 11:15. "What's going on?" she asked through a yawn. "No one paged me."

"There's nothing to page you for," Owen said, and Callie's heart began to beat faster. She recognized his voice as the one he used when he needed to remain calm and professional, even when he was talking about something awful. "Just get here as soon as you can. Is there someone who can watch Sofia?"

"I, uh, maybe Julia," Callie thought aloud. "Or my neighbor. She should be awake."

"Good. Drop Sofia off and get here. Just…please get here."

Callie heard a click on the other line and then there was no more sound. All of a sudden, she wished she hadn't ignored that gnawing worry she had felt in her gut earlier. Something was wrong, and whatever that something was, she knew deep down that it had something to do with why Arizona wasn't home yet. With shaking hands, Callie changed out of her nightgown and into a clean shirt and yesterday's jeans.

Suddenly the lingerie and body paint seemed so tiny and insignificant.


It wasn't a hard surgery by any means. It was a knee replacement, something Callie had done hundreds of times before. Something she had always complained about being boring; something she always wished she could replace with something more exciting.

Like an open femoral fracture, for example.

Still, looking at the young man lying unconscious on her table, Callie suddenly felt as though she had never held a scalpel before in her life. She clenched her fingers around the instrument in her hand, experiencing a sensation both foreign and familiar. Her sense memory told her this was something she did every day, but everything else in her body and mind screamed that nothing was the same.


"I got a phone call," Owen said solemnly, "from the hospital in Boise. Apparently the, uh –" He stuttered; lost his train of thought. That wasn't like him and it only confirmed Callie's suspicion that something was terribly wrong. "The plane from Seattle never arrived there."

There was a collective gasp throughout the room.

All around Callie, everyone was talking at once. Bailey was firing questions. Webber wanted the phone numbers for every airport, every hospital, every truck stop between Seattle and Boise. Alex had closed his eyes and bowed his head. Jackson was trying his best to look stoic, but his rapidly blinking eyes and flaring nostrils gave him away. His arm found its way around April's shoulders; April had lost her battle with her tears. Callie didn't have time to wonder what April was doing there in the first place, nor did she think to ask anybody why Teddy hadn't been called.

In the corner of the room, Julia, who had been summoned by Owen to the hospital, stood with her hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking, tears flooding her face.

If she hadn't been sitting down, Callie would have hit the ground. She felt like she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Like she was both floating and sinking; like she was freezing and burning up. And yet, all she could do was stare straight ahead and try not to throw up right there in the conference room. She couldn't think of a single thing to say.

There were others in the room, Callie noted. Nurses. Interns. Doctors she knew but whose names she suddenly couldn't remember. Her own superior, Dr. Chang.

Not Arizona. Not Mark. Not Cristina, Derek, Meredith, or Lexie.

The only coherent thought Callie could hold onto was, "My wife is missing. My best friend and my colleagues are missing. And there's goddamn lingerie on my bedroom floor."


Callie closed her eyes tightly and opened them again, willing the dizzy, queasy feeling to go away. She was vaguely aware that the rest of the OR – the nurses, the anesthesiologist, April – were looking at her expectantly. They were all taking their cues from her.

She could do this. It was just a knee replacement. Just Jason O'Neill, a college athlete who had gotten injured playing lacrosse and hoped to be able to play again.

It wasn't like Arizona was lying broken and vulnerable on her table.


Callie's trauma gown whipped around her. It was always windy on the helipad. She knew some time had passed between she and her colleagues had gathered in the conference room and been given the news that the missing doctors had been found, but time had since lost meaning to her and she couldn't recall what she had been doing anyway. It might have involved crying; it might have involved screaming or praying or vomiting. She couldn't be sure.

She knew only as much as everyone else did: the plane had been found not even halfway to Boise. There was one fatality. Two were barely hanging on. Four were conscious. All of them needed immediate attention.

The helicopter appeared like a mirage in the desert. Everyone rushed toward it but Callie found herself unable to move. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she would wake up in her bed next to Arizona and this would all have been a dream.

Nope, that didn't work.

The flurry of sound all seemed ambient and nondescript to Callie until she made out the distinct voices of Cristina Yang and Meredith Grey. Cristina was spouting information. Meredith was sobbing.

"Cardiac tamponade –"

"Lexie's gone; my sister is gone –"

"Trapped under the plane –"

"His hand is crushed –"

"Open femoral fracture –"

"I can't believe –"

"Maybe an embolism –"

"Looks worse than it is –"

"Let me help –"

"Dr. Torres, we need you!"


"Dr. Torres, we need you." Callie blinked, realizing that April had been trying to get her attention.

"What is it?"

"One of the old bone fragments shifted before I could get to it and it nicked an artery. He-he's not bleeding out, but I can't fix the bleed and get to the fragment at the same time. I-I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"

"Shit. Gauze. Get me gauze. Now!"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Torres. I was just trying –"

"Kepner, shut up and focus! I will repair the bleed. You get the fragment and don't talk to me unless he starts coding!"

April nodded, chastised. Callie took a deep breath and made every attempt to center herself. The middle of surgery was hardly the time or place to start having painful memories.

But how could she not when the last bones she'd held in her hands belonged to her wife, when the last person on her table had been Arizona? How could she forget when everything made her remember?


There was a buzzing in Callie's head that wasn't from the noise of the helicopter. Time was simultaneously flying and barely moving at all. Her whole body felt numb, but also far too heavy. She didn't fully trust herself to walk without falling to the ground, but what choice did she have?

There were doctors everywhere; there were questions, tears, gurneys, blood…everywhere. On another day, Callie might have laughed at how like a clown car the helicopter seemed: gurney after gurney, body after broken body.

Of the four survivors – Callie heard, somewhere in the ambient noise, something about the pilot having died during transport – Cristina was the only one standing. A paramedic was following her, trying to convince her that she needed to sit and be checked out with everyone else, but in typical Cristina fashion, she brushed off the concern. Her arm was in a makeshift sling and there was some blood on her face, but other than that, she seemed fine. How did that even happen? How did someone fall out of an airplane and appear no worse for the wear? For a fleeting second, Callie found herself furious. How was it fair that Cristina Yang was okay while Lexie and the pilot were dead, while others were suffering so badly? The anger dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. There were more important things to focus on. Even in her shaken, stricken state, Callie knew that.

Meredith was strapped to a gurney, but she was struggling to sit up. While she did have a tourniquet wrapped around one thigh, staunching blood flow from a fairly nasty wound, she bore the look of someone who was suffering more from crippling emotional pain than anything else.

Derek was also strapped down, but he was alert. A glance at his hand told Callie why she had been summoned; it was crushed and mangled. She took a deep, shuddering breath. She could fix it, sure, but could she fix it?

Derek Shepherd and his multi-million dollar miracle hand suddenly became the least of Callie's worries when she saw another gurney being unloaded from the helicopter.

"Mark!" Callie might have thought he was dead if she wasn't trained to notice the subtle rise and fall of his chest. His face was pale, making the contrast of blood and scratches even more distressing. There was a mask over his nose and mouth, supplying oxygen to his struggling heart and lungs. His eyes were closed and he didn't open them, even when Callie called out to him. She whirled around in Cristina's general direction. "What happened?"

Cristina was busy getting fussed over by Owen, who was trying to pay attention to her while tending to the incoming trauma.

"Cardiac tamponade," Derek supplied instead, his voice laced with pain. "He collapsed out there. Yang saved him." Callie nodded. It was all she could manage as tears began to blur her vision. She knew enough about the human body to know that even though Cristina had stopped the bleeding, Mark would still require surgery, and even then, he might not survive.

"Mark, just hold on," Callie begged, though she wasn't sure he could hear her. "It's okay. You're going to be okay. We're going to –"

A flash of blonde hair. Callie's attention was fully diverted.

Arizona.

She, too, had an oxygen mask on her face. Her hair was matted with blood, sweat, and dirt, and her face, while pale, was littered with wounds, no doubt from where shards of airborne glass had hit her.

So much blood.

Everywhere, people were shouting information, directions, names, and numbers. Someone tried to get Callie's attention. But all of the chaos, all of the cacophony disappeared and she didn't hear or see anyone else. Just Arizona. Just this woman who, despite the dirt, the sweat, and so much blood, was the most beautiful, most perfect vision Callie had ever seen. And she was alive.

"She has a pulmonary embolism," the paramedic unloading Arizona's gurney supplied. Callie nodded, half-registering what was being said to her. "I think she's bleeding internally, too. But obviously, our major concern is her leg."

"Huh?" As taken as she had been by the sight of Arizona's face – by the fact that she was getting to see her wife's face after being so afraid that she never would again – Callie hadn't even thought to look at her legs. Her gaze drifted downward. "Oh my god."

It was the kind of injury that, had it been on anyone else, Callie would have squealed with delight to see. It would have meant a long, complicated, exciting surgery and a chance to rebuild bones. It would have meant an incredibly cool story to tell other surgeons, a success story to tell at parties or, heaven forbid, medical conferences. Here, on Arizona, it brought bile to Callie's throat and tears to her eyes.

Her wife's femur was broken and sticking out of her leg. The pants Arizona was wearing were soaked with blood and Callie could see where the bone had already started to deteriorate. The wound itself wasn't much better off; it was raw-looking, discolored, and dirty. Whether or not it was infected wasn't even a question. The question was how badly it was infected. The question was whether the bone – and the leg – were salvageable.

"It's been splinted," Callie noted.

"She did it herself." Cristina reappeared at Callie's side.

"What?"

"Lexie was dying. Meredith was trying to help Derek with his hand. The pilot needed a c-spine stabilization. She splinted her own leg."

Callie felt a swell of pride at that – not for herself and her techniques, which Arizona had obviously been observing with care whenever she had the chance – but for the brave, smart, resourceful woman she had married. The most incredible woman on the planet. No one else Callie knew would have had the wherewithal to splint her own leg in that situation. Callie doubted that she would even have been able to do it herself.

Without even thinking about it, Callie reached out for Arizona's forehead, smoothing back a piece of hair that was sticky with sweat. "She's burning up," she said with alarm. She turned and surveyed the crowd. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation and everyone was occupied. "Somebody help her!" Callie cried desperately. "Please – somebody!"

A faint noise caught Callie's attention. Arizona was struggling to speak, slapping weakly in the vague direction of her oxygen mask.

"Arizona," Callie murmured, dropping to her knees next to the gurney and reaching for her wife's hand. "Arizona, I'm here, sweetheart. I'm right here. You're safe now."

Arizona's eyes fluttered partway open. Callie couldn't tell what she was seeing or if she was really focusing on anything at all. She didn't give up trying to speak, trying to remove the mask from her face. Relenting, Callie lifted the mask barely an inch off of Arizona's mouth.

"C-Ca…"

"Shh, Arizona, it's okay," Callie said softly, trying to muster a brave smile. "I'm right here. I know it hurts –" Arizona whimpered. "I know. But you're safe now and we're going to help you. You're going to be okay. Just hold on, Arizona."

"C-cold," Arizona choked out.

"We'll get you warmed up," Callie promised.

Suddenly, Arizona opened her eyes all the way so they were wide and boring into Callie's. "Help me," she pleaded. There was nothing in her eyes but pure fear.

"Arizona –"

"Help me." Her voice grew louder. "Help." Louder. "Help!"The frantic cries continued to increase in volume, and Callie tried to replace the oxygen over Arizona's mouth. In a sudden burst of strength, Arizona thrashed out of the way and screamed desperately, heartbreakingly for help until finally her words gave way to a broken wail.

Then her eyes rolled back in her head and the sound stopped.


Callie's vision was getting a little watery, though whether it was from sweat, tears, or a combination of the two, she wasn't sure. But she knew she couldn't let her vision be compromised and both of her hands were currently entrenched in a young man's knee, trying to put his artery back together. She opened her mouth to ask Paige, the nurse standing closest to her, to dab at her eyes for her, or at least hold up a tissue, but what came out was a choked sound that wasn't quite a whimper.

April looked up, bone fragment clasped in her tweezers. "Are you okay, Dr. Torres?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Callie rasped, nodding vigorously. "I just…I'm fine."

She wasn't fine.


"Dr. Torres, you know I can't let you go in there."

"And you know I'm the best chance she has!" Callie couldn't remember how or when she had peeled herself off the helipad or how she had managed to walk any distance without collapsing or throwing up, but here she was, arguing heatedly with Owen Hunt.

"Dr. Chang is also an orthopedic surgeon –"

"Dr. Chang?" Callie scoffed. "Do you think Chang would go in there and even try to save that leg? Owen, we both know I am the best chance Arizona has to keep her leg. I'm the best chance she has to walk again!"

"You're also the best chance Shepherd has to move his fingers again," Owen countered. "They need you in there with him."

Callie shook her head. "Shepherd can wait, Arizona can't. The longer the bone stays exposed, the more it decays and the more nerve and tissue damage occurs. Derek's hand is bad, but it's a closed fracture. This is…I haven't seen a whole lot worse."

Owen closed his eyes. "Callie…"

"Dr. Hunt, I am saying this as a surgeon and as a wife. Arizona deserves to have the best working on her and that's me. Are you going to deny her the best chance at a recovery because the best happens to be married to her?"

"I can't let you –"

"What if that was Cristina?" Callie cried. "What if that was Meredith and I was Derek? What would you say then?"

"It isn't that simple –"

"It is that simple!" Callie insisted, not caring that she was yelling and that anyone without shouting distance could hear her. "I go in there and work on Arizona, do everything I can to save her leg, and she walks out of here in eight weeks, or I stay out, she loses her leg, and you're the jerk who didn't let the best orthopedic surgeon in this hospital in the O.R.!"

"Dr. Hunt, he's crashing!" A nurse poked his head out of the operating room behind Owen – the room, Callie realized with a jolt, where Mark was being worked on.

"Damn it." Owen turned to rush back into the O.R. "Don't do anything stupid," he directed Callie. And then he was gone.

That was good enough for her.


They were just about ready to close when the sound dreaded by every surgeon the world over erupted into the quiet of the room.

"Why the hell is he crashing?!" Callie demanded. "He was fine!"

Arizona.

"I-I don't know!" April cried. "I don't see any bleeds. Is he reacting to the anesthesia?"

Arizona.

"Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

So much blood. So much brokenness. Was this how Arizona had felt when it had been Callie's body being torn apart?

"What is it?" Bailey asked from where she was stitching the bleed in Arizona's stomach.

"It's too badly damaged. There's no way it'll stabilize." She shook her head. "I can't save this bone."

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair. Callie was the best orthopedic surgeon in the hospital. She knew it, Owen knew it, everyone knew it. And yet she was holding her wife's broken bone in her hands and there was nothing she could do to fix it. She had successfully treated a femoral fracture that very morning, and now her wife was sick, broken, and depending on her, and she couldn't deliver.

How was that fair?

"Can you save the leg?" Jackson asked. He was just about done cleaning up the wounds on Arizona's face. In the O.R., he was forcing himself to forget that his once-girlfriend was dead and that his mentor and friend was quite possibly dying in the next room. His hands worked more from sense memory at this point than anything else. If he thought about anything for too long, his mind would inevitably wander to what Lexie's final words had been or whether Owen and Alex would be able to save Mark's life.

"Yes," Callie said with more confidence than she felt. "Yes. I just – I'll have to use titanium –"

And then the shrill beeping started.

Arizona.


"Charging to 200."

"Did he throw a clot? Do we need to crack his chest?"

"Clear!" Silence, except for the beeping. "Nothing. Damn it. Come on, Arizona, don't do this!"

No one said anything. If Callie realized her slip, she didn't correct herself.

"Come on, come on. Charging to 250!" Still nothing. "No," Callie demanded. "Don't you dare do this. Charging to 300!"

Arizona.

April spoke up hesitantly "Dr. Torres –"

"Shut up!" Callie screamed. "No, no, no, no, no!" Tears were pouring down her cheeks now and she barely registered them. The face in front of Callie morphed from Jason O'Neill to Arizona and back again. Her wife was crashing and her heart was failing and someone needed to do something and what if –

"Sinus rhythm," April announced.

Callie stumbled. She nearly fainted, she was so overcome. She turned to April, suddenly completely unconfident that she could maintain any distance between her emotions and her job. "Can you close up here?" April nodded. Without another word, Callie turned and walked away, gaining momentum until she was running into the hallway.

Her gloves were covered in blood.

So much blood.

Arizona's blood.


"Weak?" Daniel repeated. "Is that how you think I see you?"

Arizona chuckled mirthlessly and gestured to herself. "This isn't exactly who you raised me to be, is it?"

"Arizona, the fact that you have a broken leg in no way makes you –"

"I can't get up!" she finally exploded, a week-plus of frustration, grief, and anxiety finally giving way to anger. "I can't shower or get dressed or-or even go to the bathroom by myself. I'm in pain every second of every day. I am stuck in this bed for another two months and then what? Callie says I'm going to make a full recovery, but she doesn't know that. She can think what she wants, but I might never walk again. I might never be able to move the way I used to and then – how am I supposed to do my job then?" She challenged her father with a hard glare but didn't give him the chance to respond. "I am a mother and I can't take care of my own child. I am a doctor and I can't even see my patients. How is that anything but weak, Dad? How is that…how is it anything?"

Daniel opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but Arizona cut him off. "Do you know what I was doing out there while Lexie Grey was dying?"

"What's that, Arizona?" Daniel asked softly.

"I was crying. Not because Lexie was dying or because Mark was losing the love of his life. I was crying because I was scared. I was scared because I thought I would be next. I was cold and bleeding and in more pain than I can ever remember being in, and I just wanted Callie to show up and put her arms around me and tell me I was going to be okay –" Arizona's voice broke. That was still all she wanted, really, especially as she relived the memory. "And-and I just sat there. Crying. I didn't help her. Just like I didn't help Nick. Just like I didn't help Tim. I let them down." She let out a shuddery breath, a few tears slipping out unnoticed. "I let everyone down."

"You did no such thing."

Arizona's eyes bore into her father's. "I'm a coward."

"You are alive!" Arizona jumped a little at the force with which the words were spoken. "You are alive. You're alive because you kept your head out there. You were in shock, you were scared, you were hurting…and yet somehow, you found it in yourself to splint your own leg. You knew you were going to come home and you weren't going to give up without a damn good fight. And you fought, Arizona. You fought like hell, and if that isn't bravery, I don't know what is."

"I didn't help them," Arizona protested brokenly.

"And what would you have done?" Daniel countered. "Stood on your broken leg and lifted the airplane off of that woman's body?"

"No, but –"

"You're a doctor, Arizona. You're not a superhero." Arizona blinked. "Never mind all the people you do help. Never mind that your own daughter wouldn't be here today if it weren't for you. Nobody blames you. Not Nick, not Tim, and certainly not your mother and me."

"This isn't who you raised me to be," Arizona said again, barely above a whisper.

"No, Arizona." Daniel shook his head. "This is exactly who I raised you to be." He fixed his gaze on her for a long moment. "I brought something for you."

"What?" Arizona furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"This is something that was given to me when I came home from Lebanon," he explained. "Did I ever tell you what happened while I was over there?" Arizona shook her head. Daniel had never been one to talk much about his experiences overseas, at least not in specific detail. "I had a good friend in my unit, General Keith Brady. I met him in basic training, didn't see him for a long time, but we always kept in touch. I was happy to see him again." He took a steadying breath. "One day, while we were loading supplies onto our ship, a rebel troop opened fire on us. We fought back, but several of our men were taken down. Keith was hit in the thigh; I was hit in the shoulder. Both of us continued to fire until we had no ammunition left."

Arizona swallowed heavily. "Did-did Keith – uh, did General Brady…?"

Daniel sighed. "I stayed with him while we waited for the doctor to arrive. There were a couple of other men who had been shot. I thought Keith would be okay. I took off my shirt and used it to try to stop the bleeding in his leg."

"How did you lift your arm?" Arizona asked in awe.

"It hurt like hell." A hint of a smirk played across Daniel's face. "I don't know how long we sat there waiting. All of us were bleeding pretty badly. I was probably the best off out of everyone, but…but there is no way I can describe pain like a bullet to the shoulder." He took another deep breath. "Still, I didn't take my hands off of Keith's leg. The shirt had soaked through, but I didn't have anything else. I remember telling him to just-just hold on. That help was coming. That he was going to be okay. I told everyone to hold on."

"He wasn't okay, was he?" Arizona's voice was barely audible.

Daniel shook his head. "Some of the men were crying. All of them were in pain. I told them stories about my kids to try to distract them. I promised them that if they just held on, I'd introduce them all to my family." Arizona made a sound between a laugh and a sob. "All of them had died by the time help came. Even-even Keith."

"Dad," Arizona whispered. How was this supposed to make her feel better?

"When I came home, I was given this." He reached into his pocket, pulling something out and holding his outstretched hand to Arizona.

She gasped. "Dad, that's –"

Daniel nodded. "A purple heart. For bravery. I'd like you to have it, Arizona."

Arizona's eyes welled up. "Dad, I can't –"

"You are the bravest, strongest, most noble person I know. This belongs to you."

Arizona just nodded, knowing she could do nothing but accept the gift. She took it from her father and clasped it in her fist, holding it so tightly it practically cut into her skin. "Thank you," she whispered. She wasn't convinced that she deserved it, but if her father believed she did, then maybe…

"Thank you."


Callie didn't actually know where her feet were taking her until she skidded to a stop outside of Arizona's room. Peeking in, she could see that Arizona and her father were having a moment, so while she wanted – felt the physical pull – to throw open the door, burst in, take Arizona in her arms, and never let go, she forced herself to rein in her energy. Taking a deep breath to center herself, she rapped lightly on the door. Both father and daughter looked up.

"Callie, hello." Daniel smiled gently at her. Arizona acknowledged her too, but she had tears in her eyes and falling slowly down her cheeks. She tried to smile, but appeared not to be able to, as if her mouth got stuck halfway through the motion.

"Hi, Colonel," Callie replied. "Hey, sweetie." She shot Arizona a questioning look, hoping the question of "Are you okay?" came through in her eyes. Arizona offered a blink, a sniffle, and a watery not-quite-smile in response. Callie glanced between the pair. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all," Daniel said, standing up. "I was just about to go and make sure my wife doesn't abscond with your daughter." Both women chuckled. "Good surgery, Callie?"

Callie's face fell. "Uh…yeah. It, um…" She looked down at her hands, inspecting her fingernails. "It was fine."

Daniel looked at Callie for a long minute, but he finally moved toward the door, figuring that whatever Callie's misgivings about her surgery were, she needed to talk them through with her wife. "Good," he settled on saying. "Glad to hear it. I imagine we'll see you back at your apartment whenever you're able to get home."

"Yes." Callie nodded. "I gave you the spare key, so feel free to let yourselves in. I'll make sure to let the daycare staff know that you and Barbara have our permission to pick up Sofia."

"Excellent." Daniel smiled – the mention of his granddaughter never failed to bring a smile to his face. He turned back to Arizona. "I'll see you tomorrow," he promised. "Remember what we talked about."

"I will," Arizona answered hoarsely, nodding.

Daniel offered another nod, laying a hand on Callie's shoulder as he left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Callie's earlier energy returned with a vengeance and, mindful as always of Arizona's leg, she all but flung herself at her wife, wrapping her arms around her as tightly as she could without hurting her.

"Callie!" Arizona squawked, too bewildered to say anything else or even remember why she had been so emotional a moment ago. "What…?"

"I love you!" Callie cried. Tears that she hadn't allowed herself to cry during her surgery spilled over, rushing down her cheeks. "I just – I had to – there was so much blood. And he was crashing and I kept shocking him and all I could think about was when –" She hesitated for a second, not sure if Arizona would want to hear about her own surgery and how touch-and-go it had been. She figured, though, that if she had already gotten this far, she might as well keep going. "When it was you!" She squeezed Arizona a little tighter and felt her tears drip onto her wife's head. "I just – I kept seeing you and I was so scared –" Callie struggled to keep talking even as her throat constricted around her tears. "I couldn't remember if I told you I love you this morning. And I had to tell you. I had to see you."

"Callie," Arizona murmured into her wife's shoulder. She didn't know what else to say, didn't know what else she could say. Surely she wasn't in any position to be offering reassurances. "I'm still here. Right where you left me."

"I love you," Callie said again, her voice only slightly muffled from where her mouth was pressed to the top of Arizona's head. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Arizona promised. "I love you too, Calliope. I'm really glad you're here."

Callie sniffled and pulled back, holding Arizona at an arm's length so she could really see her. The pure reverence and adoration in her eyes made Arizona feel warm. "You have no idea." She sniffled again, removing one hand from Arizona to wipe at her eyes. "Guess it was a hard day all around, huh?"

Arizona nodded. "You could say that." She chuckled softly. "Although, my mom's visiting Sofia in daycare. I'm sure that if you asked her, she'd say it's been a great day. Sofia, too." That got a genuine, if quiet, laugh out of Callie. "What else do you have today?"

"Not much," Callie said, glancing at her watch. "I'm putting pins in a woman's arm in a few hours and I have a hip replacement after that. Why?"

"Do you, um…" Arizona was still reeling from her visit with her parents and all of the feelings that had brought up, and now that Callie was here, she felt safe starting to process them. "Will you just…sit with me for a while? We can put on a movie if you want."

"Of course," Callie said tenderly. She reached out and trailed her fingers down Arizona's cheek. "You think about what movie you want to watch and I'll plug in the laptop, okay?"

"Okay."


Callie sat in the chair next to Arizona's bed, as close as she could get without actually being in it, fingers entwined with her wife's. Her laptop rested on the other side of the bed, on Arizona's bedside table, though neither woman was paying particularly close attention to the movie playing on it. Arizona was deep in thought and Callie's mind was wandering.

How was Callie supposed to do her job when every time she was in the O.R., her wife's life was at stake all over again? How was she supposed to fix other people's bones knowing that she couldn't fix Arizona's? How was she supposed to go back to the daily grind, pretending everything was normal, when she and her wife were taking turns falling apart?

How was she supposed to help Arizona? And what if she couldn't?

"Hey," Arizona said softly from beside her, squeezing her hand. Callie hadn't realized her breathing had gotten erratic or that a tear had escaped until Arizona snapped her back to the present. Her gaze was concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Callie whispered. She flashed Arizona a wan smile and turned back to the movie. "I'm fine."

She wasn't fine.