Title: Extraordinary Measures

Author: J.M. Flowers

Rating: M

AN: In honour of the "happier" memories written into this chapter, I dragged a song out of the Extraordinary Measures Soundtrack that Kaitlyn helped me concoct months ago. This song, in particular, I think has been the most inspiring in this writing process, and it pops up in several different scenes throughout. It's probably my favourite in the playlist. If you want to listen, too, it's called Tremble (Studio Rehearsal) by Charlotte Martin, and you can find it on her YouTube page.

And I definitely laughed when all the reviews went from, "I'm not sure what's happening," to "Ohhh!" Thanks for sticking around to find the aha moment.


Dolor hic tibi proderit olim

"Someday this pain will be useful to you"

On Tuesday morning, I pause in front of the bathroom mirror, newly visible amidst the sunlight streaming around curtains that have, surprisingly, stayed open since the weekend. My reflection startles me, the first time I've truly seen it since the morning I laid beneath Arizona's quaking form.

I'm thinner.

I trace my fingers along the shadows of my eyes, sunken and hollow, tinged with the bruises associated with sadness. Weariness. Grieving. My cheeks below them are pale, the zygomatic bones more visible than in any of the pictures on end tables in the living room.

I follow the path of my skeletal system: down my neck, also pale; across my shoulders, pronounced; dipping beneath my sternum to the almost concave shape of my stomach, my abdomen tighter against my organs.

Arizona would've hated this, this disappearance.

My curves are less prominent, my hip bones pushing at the material at the top of my baggy sweats. I drop them to the floor, analyzing the effortless way they fall off me to the tile below. My legs have paled, thinned to nothing. My body... it's nothing. There's nothing to me anymore.

This is what grief looks like, I think.

This isn't healthy, I think.

I could change this, I think.

#

I just have to survive one week, I remind myself as I stalk down a hallway, the blinding linoleum synonymous with hospital pushing a headache into my skull. One single week, five days actually, and I'll be back at Dr. Lewis'. Back in the machine, without Mark telling me to bury Arizona, or Lewis telling me I need to let her go. It'll be Arizona and I again, just the two of us, holding hands and kissing and really being together no matter what anyone says.

And maybe I'll tell Shepherd and Bailey to open up her abdomen first.

Maybe.

"Dr. Torres," Bailey announces loudly, pulling me from my thoughts, "So nice of you to join us."

I look up quickly, expecting to be surrounded by interns or residents or somebody, but it's just her, studying me all suspicious-like. I level her with a gaze of my own.

"I had a femur repair this morning," she continues, "Why weren't you in my O.R.? They sent down Dr. Roft, even though you were here."

I shrug, all my bravado rushing out of me with a breath. My gaze falls to my feet.

"Have you been in the O.R. this week?" she presses.

Again, I shrug.

"Callie Torres," she admonishes, pulling my attention back. Her nostrils flare, a hint of anger washing across her face. Or maybe that's disappointment - I'm not sure I can tell the difference anymore. "You are a gifted surgeon and you are wasting your talent on paper work. You've been sulking around here for months and nobody," she says with a look that makes Arizona echo in my head, "would want to see you like this."

I sigh. "I don't know what to do."

"You need to take the next step," she tells me, her voice almost soft enough to be comforting, "You need to go back in the operating room and build bones out of nothing. Or hop on a plane and go to Bolivia. Whatever the hell it is, you need to do what makes you happy." She starts to turn away before looking back over her shoulder to add one more thing: "But if you're staying here, you need to shower more 'cause you ain't smelling too doctorly lately."

I laugh in spite of myself, for the first time in what feels like it might be years. I could do what makes me happy; I could really be a doctor again, fixing people. Building bones like God. Giving back the gift of movement. I could be that person again, I think.

But then a much stronger, much louder thought pushes to the forefront of my consciousness: Arizona makes me happy. Saving Arizona would make me happy.

Alex, heaving into the garbage can. Kepner, eyes welling with tears. Meredith, shouting stats as the team of doctors moves towards the elevator. Arizona, on a gurney, bleeding out.

I run towards the stairwell, feet barely touching the ground. I fly through the door of the operating room, clutching a mask to my face.

"Don't cry."

"I love you. I will always love you."

"It doesn't even hurt."

"Dr. Shepherd, Bailey, with all due respect, I think you should start in her abdomen."

It'd be as simple as that. One sentence. One suggestion. One life saved.

"Callie," Mark tries to interrupt, tentatively wandering up beside me.

I ignore him, taking off down the hall to records. I have to find Arizona's chart, have to be certain I'm right. I have to know if I can bring her back. We could still have forever.

#

"Calliope," she'd whispered, teeth grazing against presented neck, "You're so beautiful tonight."

The object of her affections had the gall to blush, twirling her gently on the dance floor, the swish of their white gowns making her smile wider. "As are you, my beautiful wife."

Arizona had leaned back, reaching her eyes to Callie's, smile brightening her glowing features. "Can we get out of here yet?" she'd suggested conspiratorially before setting her forehead against its match. "I'd like to take my wife to bed."

Callie had giggled, stroking Arizona's bare shoulder with her thumb. "I think people would notice if the brides disappeared from their own reception."

"I don't think anyone would judge me for wanting to see what's under this beautiful dress," Arizona had quipped, eliciting another flush of skin that stretched down into cleavage. "I'd love to see how far that blush goes," she'd added, biting at her bottom lip as she had tried to peek in the space between fabric and breasts.

Callie had twirled them again, eyeing the surrounding area. There were only about thirty people left, all the seasoned partiers. None of them the type to mind if the brides called it a night, as long as the DJ stayed until the end of his contract. "Okay," she'd nodded.

Her wife had beamed, instantly extracting the two of them from each other's arms and taking Callie's hand to drag her across the ballroom. Alex Karev had stepped forward as they passed through the tables, but Arizona had quickly waved him off. "Wedding night, Karev!" she'd called over her shoulder, rewarded with a giggle from the woman holding tight to her fingers.

Callie had let her eyes wander as Arizona had closed and locked their suite door, the Do Not Disturb sign hanging rightfully on the outer handle. Her wife had been shining in her gown, thick, golden curls cascading over freckled shoulders. Callie had reached forward, grasping the zipper of her wife's dress in her fingertips, slowly revealing more of that sun tinged expanse.

Arizona had shivered as Callie's touch burned a path down her bare back. She'd turned, pressing her lips to the other pair, quickly dueling tongue with her own. Her hands had settled in dark curls, pulling pins loose, needing to bury her fingers in those raven locks. "I love you," she'd gasped, feeling her dress being pushed off her body, revealing the cream lingerie she'd chosen for underneath.

She'd wrapped her arms around Calliope, quickly finding and undoing her zipper, too. She'd pushed the dress gently off tanned shoulders, white fabric pooling at their feet, a red bra drawing her attention. "How the hell did you pull that off with a white dress?" she'd asked, running her finger along the edge of a cup.

Callie had laughed, putting her hand under her wife's chin to lift her attention to impossibly dark brown eyes. "I'm a magician," she'd giggled, "How do you think I managed to talk you into forever?"

Arizona had smiled, stretching upwards for a much gentler peck. "I'm so happy I get forever with you," she'd whispered.

"Me too."