"What are all the machines?" Riley asked Arizona as she looked up at her dad where he was laying on his bed, still and quiet midst the chorus or whirring and beeping that surrounded him. His body was badly bruised, and there were several machines and monitors attached to him with tubes and wires. Arizona replied as calmly and simply as she could, "There are machines that are keeping track of how his organs are working, measuring his pulse, his kidney function, the activity in his brain. The tube in his mouth is breathing for him because he can't breath on his own right now."
Riley nodded silently, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and looking down at her lap. She mumbled quietly, "When will he wake up?"
Arizona pulled up a chair and sat down next to the girl, leaning in close and speaking to her gently, "We don't know. It could be a day, or a week, or a month. Or he could never wake up."
Riley bit her lower lip as Arizona continued, "The longer he stays in a coma, the less likely it is that he will wake up. But we are monitoring him closely, and we are doing everything we can to take care of him." The young girl looked up at the doctor, her lower lip trembling, "Do you think he's going to die?" she asked shakily, barely above a whisper. Arizona forced herself not to look away, not to flinch away from the difficult truth as she answered the question, "I don't know. I think he might. I hope he doesn't."
Riley took one last scared look up at her father lying on the bed, motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest with the ventilator, before turning back to Arizona, "Can we go now?" Arizona nodded, standing up and slowly wheeling the girl from the room.
"I don't know why we're here," Arizona grumbled, arms crossed over her chest tightly as she looked up at Nick, "You know, I had to take an entire day off work, which is basically unheard of in the fifth year of a surgical residency, especially as chief resident. And I have boards coming up in a month, and I'm way behind on studying. And now you're insisting that I stand here and stare at the ground."
"It's your brother's grave," Nick insisted gently, "You needed to come here, to visit." They were standing in Arlington in mid-march, bundled in winter coats as they stood before Timothy's headstone. "I was already here, for the funeral. You were there, so you know that. I don't see why had to come back," Arizona responded curtly, eyes fixed directly in front of her, staring out at the rows and rows of headstones. Far too many, so much loss.
"His headstone wasn't here yet—"
"I don't care about a stupid rock with his name on it!"
"Tucson, he's your brother," Nick pleaded sympathetically. Truth was, he had been worried about her. After Timothy's funeral, she had thrown herself into her work, as if none of this nightmare had ever happened. He'd been sleeping on her couch for over a month now. She had told him to go home many times, but he knew she didn't mean it. He heard her sob in her sleep whenever she got home from whatever long shift she had been working at the hospital. But she didn't talk to him. She didn't talk to anyone. She wasn't dealing with it.
"So, what am I supposed to do?" Arizona asked bitterly, still refusing to look at her friend. Nick shrugged, placing a hand supportively on her shoulder, "Just talk to him."
"He's not there," she snapped coldly. "He's dead. And you know I don't believe in this crap about dead people just watching us from heaven or whatever. He's dead. He's not here, so he can't hear me." She bit her lip, and swallowed the lump in her throat, refusing to cry about this anymore. Not here, not now.
"Then pretend he's here," Nick suggested, squeezing her shoulder firmly. "Please, Flagstaff. Do it for me. I think it might help."
Arizona looked up at him, about to ream him with how she didn't see how talking to a corpse in a box six feet underground would be the least bit helpful, but his face, filled with concern and his eyes filled with tears, stopped her. Biting her lip, she nodded, "But only for you," she mumbled stubbornly. Leaning over and kissing the top of her head, Nick whispered, "I'll give you some time."
As he walked away, Arizona collected her thoughts, breathing steadily in and out as she finally forced herself to bring her eyes down to read his headstone.
Timothy Michael Robbins
June 8, 1980 – February 17, 2003
Beloved Son and Brother
She looked away from it, her eyes filling instantly with tears. Admonishing herself for this emotional reaction, she inhaled sharply. After few quiet moments, she muttered, "Hey Timothy." She waited, listening to the silence; she hadn't realized until that moment that a small part of her actually believed that he might respond.
"This is stupid. You're dead," she scoffed, looking up at the sky, the familiar twinge of guilt rising in the back of her throat once more. The guilt that suggested saying it out loud somehow made it more real, that her words were killing him over and over again. She waited again, and once again heard only silence, the wind blowing coldly into her ears. She felt the tears building in her eyes as she looked back to the headstone, "I miss you, Timothy. I miss you so much."
Knowing she would not receive a response this time, she wiped her tears from her eyes with her gloved hand. She didn't believe he would respond, but she sure did wish he would.
"I thought I heard music coming from down the hall," Arizona smiled as she entered Riley's room, where the young girl was sitting playing a guitar. "Yeah," Riley grinned, "My social worker managed to get some things from my house. It's okay if I play here?" she asked cautiously, praying that Arizona wouldn't say no.
"Sure!" exclaimed Arizona, pleased that the young girl would have something else to do. She'd been here several weeks now, and the toy basketball hoop could only entertain her for so long. "Just during the day though. I want everyone to be able to get all the sleep they need. Including you," Arizona advised, her voice somehow playful and stern at the same time. Riley nodded, "Alright. That's fair."
"You know," continued Arizona, as she stood to check Riley's vitals and wound sites, "'Wide Open Spaces' is one of my favorite songs." Riley's eyes lit up with excitement, forgetting momentarily that she wasn't supposed to let on that she cared, "You know the Dixie Chicks?" she beamed, and Arizona nodded enthusiastically, pleased that the young girl seemed to be almost cheerful today. "Love them. They've been some of my favorites since just before I started high school."
Riley nodded, "They were really popular at my school back in Texas. My dad and I used to live there, before we moved up here a few years ago. I barely meet anyone around here who likes country music." Arizona agreed with a knowing hum, "I spent some time Texas, when I was just a little older than you. I was a military brat, so we moved around a lot. You're right. No one likes the Dixie Chicks here; Calliope and Sofia can't stand country music."
Riley raised her eyebrows, "Who are they?" she asked curiously. Arizona responded proudly, "Calliope is my wife, and Sofia is our daughter. She's just a little younger than you." Riley looked slightly confused, "You have a wife?"
"I do. We've been married for almost ten years now," Arizona stated, a confident grin crossing her face. While she was sometimes nervous about revealing her sexual orientation to patients, ever since a homophobic parent decided not to let her treat his child, it was something she refused to hide on principle. And judging by the smile on Riley's face, it didn't seem like she had a problem with it, even coming from Texas.
"That's pretty cool," she muttered, and Arizona smiled, "Yeah, I think so too." Making a quick note on Riley's chart, she placed it back on the edge of the bed, "Well, everything is looking great. PT going well?" Riley tilted her head to the side, responding neutrally, "It's hard, but I'm getting better. Dr. Hanson thinks I'll be able to transfer on my own soon."
"That's terrific. It's sounds like you're making incredible progress. You should be proud of yourself," Arizona said sincerely. Shrugging her shoulders awkwardly, Riley muttered, "Thanks."
"Well, I have a surgery that I need to prep for, so I'll leave you to your guitar. Oh," Arizona leaned in to whisper to Riley, "Make sure to serenade Dr. Karev when he comes by on his evening rounds. He might act scowly, but trust me. He likes it."
Riley giggled, "I know he does."
"So, we've got our hat, our mittens, our long underwear," Callie went through the checklist as she and Sofia packed for their camping trip the following night. Sofia crinkled her nose, "I don't like long underwear. It itches." Callie nodded knowingly, "I hear that. But trust me, it gets cold at night, and you're going to want to wear it anyway." Her daughter shrugged, still skeptical, "If you say so, Mami."
Just as they finished going through the checklist, and began stuffing their belongings into backpacks, Arizona entered the room, holding two bright red sleeping bags. "Pulled these out of the garage. It's been ages since anyone used them—might've been when you're Uncle Tim and Nick went to Yosemite after graduating from college." Plopping them down in front of Callie and Sofia, Arizona muttered, "So, good luck with that."
"I want to use Uncle Timothy's sleeping bag!" Sofia stated, smiling at up at her mother, a smile that Arizona couldn't help return, "Well, they're both the same. But I'm sure that Uncle Timothy has slept in both of them at some point, so you should be set." Sofia nodded with satisfaction, grasping a sleeping bag and securing it to her backpack with one of the hitches she'd been practicing.
Arizona beamed at her girls, with just a hint of sadness in her eyes. She had chosen not to accompany them on this camping trip because the woods still triggered her PTSD from the plane crash. She knew it was the right decision, yet she couldn't help feeling a tad bit left out. Still, it would be good for them; Callie could get some special bonding time with Sofia and she would get the house to herself for the weekend, an admittedly rare occurrence. "You're both going to have such a great time!" Arizona said cheerfully as she knelt down and helped them finish packing.
"We're gonna eat s'mores!" Sofia exclaimed, hardly able to contain her excitement. Arizona gasped, "S'mores! I'm so jealous. You know I love s'mores."
"You know," said Callie nonchalantly, "We have a lot of s'mores materials. It's gonna be a lot to carry. What do you say we lighten our load by making some s'mores now?" Sofia's eyes widened, her exuberance practically overflowing, "Really? We can make them here?"
Callie gasped in feigned disappointment as she pulled the marshmallows out of the grocery bag, along with a couple of wire clothes hangers, "How have you not made stovetop s'mores before? Seriously, have they taught you anything in Girl Scouts?"
Arizona laughed as she took a wire hanger from Callie, beginning to unravel it to make a skewer. Catching her wife's eye, she mouthed, "Thank you." It meant the world to her to be able to share this with her wife and daughter. Callie leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, before gently sliding a marshmallow onto her skewer.
"Wait, so tell me again why you aren't going camping with your wife and kid?" Alex asked Arizona as ate their cafeteria lasagna. She rolled her eyes, "You think I'd leave you alone with the tiny humans? With no cell reception? In your dreams, dude." Karev sneered at her, while she continued, "But seriously, you better have it covered, because I'm on-call tonight, and it's the first time I've had the house to myself in probably a year and I intend on enjoying it."
Alex shrugged, "Should be a quiet night," he muttered casually, almost choking on his food when Arizona slugged him in the arm, "Hey! What was that for?"
"Have I taught you nothing? The minute you say it's gonna be a quiet night, a million traumas come bursting through the front doors!" Arizona exclaimed in frustration, giving a humorless laugh, "I can practically hear the appendixes bursting now. So much for a chill night in."
Alex rolled his eyes, "Oh, quit it. I just meant we have a lot of discharges. Marty McFly, the Gobbler, Wheelies—"
"What did you say?" Arizona interjected, to which Alex responded with a hesitant sigh, "Look, I know you hate the nicknames, but the kids think they're funny. I swear—"
"No, I meant, you're discharging Riley?" Arizona asked in panic, shaking her head, "You can't do that; she's not ready."
"She's been here for nearly six weeks. Her incision practically healed, her vitals are strong, she's even starting to transfer on her own. Medically, there's no reason for her to be here. Hell, if that social worker wasn't so intent on keeping her in the hospital to be with her dad, she would have been transferred to a rehabilitation facility off site a month ago," Alex explained, confusion at his mentor's reluctance apparent on his face. Arizona sighed, a heartbroken expression appearing on her face, "Her dad's still in a coma. She has no where to go."
Alex shrugged sympathetically, "It's a shitty situation, but there's nothing we can do about that." But Arizona shook her head, "It's almost impossible to find placements for disabled kids. I mean, so many homes aren't wheelchair accessible, not to mention the extra challenges of caring for a disabled kid that most foster parents are unwilling or unable to take on. I mean, we just can't discharge her yet. Why do you think the social worker has been pushing so hard to keep her here for rehab?"
"Look," said Alex firmly, "You don't have to tell me how awful the foster system can be. I feel for the kid. But I just don't think there's much we can do. You know as well as I do that we need the bed."
Arizona nodded defeatedly, resting her chin against her fist as she leaned her elbow on the table, "I guess so."
A/N: Thanks for reading and for all your reviews! The section about Callie and Sofia's camping trip complements my story Hard Way Home, if you're interested in reading more. Hopefully, I'll be able to post a couple more chapters this weekend!