Title: Extraordinary Measures

Author: J.M. Flowers

Rating: M

AN: Hey, everyone. My name is Anna. J.M. asked me to post this chapter for her - she's been having some health problems and has been in the hospital. She'll be okay once everything gets sorted, but in the meantime, updates may slow for a bit. Thanks for understanding. We hope you enjoy this chapter! (And, as a completely unbiased party, I happen to think it's pretty awesome. ;)) -Anna/TheQueenMermaid


Sedit qui timuit ne non succederet

"He who feared he would not succeed sat still"

He's waiting for me when Denia guides me into the room. Just like the day, months ago, when I first walked in, he's seated beside the machine, an array of needles set on a tray beside them. He runs his fingers along them absentmindedly, watching me. Denia quickly ducks her head and disappears, leaving me alone in his company.

"Dr. Torres," he says.

"Dr. Lewis."

He smiles, his wrinkles creasing with the effort. Years of work and months of illness have scratched at his features, wearing him down. But this smile is different, like there's a sudden light to him I've never seen before.

"I thought I'd do it one last time," he tells me.

I nod, moving closer to my place in the machine. I lower myself carefully onto the hard plastic chair, taking a deep breath as I do. He slowly wraps the sensors around my head, then presses the sticky adhesive heart monitors against my chest.

"The last time," I whisper, shaking slightly, suddenly horribly aware of possible outcomes. I haven't bothered to think about the negative until this very moment, haven't even considered the likelihood that I will walk out of here today alone, knowing I'll never see Arizona again. No one's brought a person back before.

He smiles again, a hand stilling on the skin above my racing heart. "Are you ready to say goodbye?" he asks.

I look up at him. The light's still there, settled into his eyes, as if he's happy. Which is stupid, I think, because this is the last time for him, too. This machine - his creation - will never be used again after this. He will never flick it on again, never send another person backwards through their life. His life, whatever's left of it, is coming to a close. This is his end, just as much as it could be mine.

"Are you?" I breathe.

His answer comes without hesitation. "I have lived a long life. I have done what I needed to do; I have built my legacy, I have seen my memories, I have made extraordinary things possible." He pauses to take a deep, shuddering breath. "What I wonder, Callie, is whether you've done what you need to do." He lifts his hand off my chest to pick up a syringe, flicking at it with a practiced ease.

I swallow roughly, Arizona's smiling face blurring the edges of my vision: the children we will never get to have; the homes we will never get to live in; the life we will never get to share. Have I built my legacy, I wonder? Have I done everything I need to do?

"Are you ready, Dr. Torres?" he asks again.

Have I done the impossible? Have I been extraordinary?

The answer hits me in the center of my chest, pushing the air from lungs. "I'm ready," I whisper.

He plunges the needle of anaesthetic into my veins. My vision blurs faster, Arizona becomes clearer. "Calliope," she chuckles. "Are you coming?"

I'm coming, I'm coming.

I'll save you.

#

"Important emergency, huh?" she mumbles against my cheek, trailing her lips along my jaw. Mandible.

I chuckle, pushing my fingers deeper into her. She moans. "The most important," I whisper, pressing my thumb against her bundle of nerves. She moans again, louder.

"Hurry," she coaches, her hips echoing her words with a roll.

I back my hand with a solid thrust of my own, watching as she comes undone even faster. "We still have time," I say with a laugh against her neck, burying the sound in a bite at her beating pulse.

"Not -" she gasps, chewing on her bottom lip, "If I'm going to - OH GOD - fuck you, too."

I swallow, pushing my knee into her center again, using it as leverage for my fingers. Her walls tighten, clenching as she groans. I pull her lip between my own teeth, tugging gently as her body stiffens. A silent calm washes over her, head tilting backwards in pleasure. A smile graces her features in the second before she collapses, panting, on top of me.

"Really, really important emergency," I promise, peppering kisses across her face.

She laughs. "My emergency next."

#

"Dr. Kepner," I ask, looking up at the resident who's been standing at my side for the past eight hours. "Would you like to close up?"

She grins beneath her mask, the corners of her eyes scrunching before she nods.

I let our scrub nurse take the tools from my hands, stepping back to admire Kepner's sutures. "Perfect," I tell her when her shoulders finally relax. "Good job. Go get some sleep." I tug off my mask once a nurse has removed my gloves, knocking my wrist against the sensor to open the door and then shoving everything into the bio-waste bin.

She follows my lead, reaching across the large sink basins to grab a bar of soap. "Oh, I can't," she says, ripping open the packaging. "I promised Hunt I'd spend some time in the ER today and I just haven't had a chance."

"How long have you been here?" I reach for a towel, rubbing it along the length of my forearms.

She looks up, calculating. "Um... thirty... six? Hours."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Get some sleep, Dr. Kepner." With that, I leave the scrub room, heading for the stairs so I can maybe take my own advice.

The path to the on-call room on the fourth floor is familiar, one I've taken many times if only because it's situated comfortably between Peds and Ortho - our own little meeting spot. I collapse onto the bottom bunk, spent from being on my feet so long, even if it was a relatively simple surgery, thanking the heavens that there's only an hour left in my shift.

Banging.

"Callie!"

I open my eyes groggily, surveying the dark room. I must've fallen asleep.

The banging comes again, louder. "Callie, open up!" The door.

"Callie!"

Mark.

I roll off the mattress and cross the distance. Turn the knob. Find his face; pale hollowness.

We run - straight to Emergency.

I turn away as Alex heaves over a trashcan, the sound of his lunch hitting the bottom acting as the timpani beginning a concerto. The pieces of the orchestra come together, a stunned and shaking Kepner the gentle melody of the woodwinds. Next comes the harmony: Meredith Grey.

"Her B.P. is dropping!"

"Hang a bag of O Neg," Hunt orders, steering the gurney and the team towards the elevator. I catch the flash of her face, blue eyes wide.

I rush forward, darting into the elevator behind them.

"What the hell are you doing, Torres?" Bailey hollers.

But I ignore her, grabbing hold of Arizona's hand. "She's B Positive," I correct, looking to Hunt. His expression wavers, somewhere between anger and understanding.

Arizona catches my gaze, a goofy grin on her face. "Calliope," she giggles. "I told Teddy about the emergency. And then we got hit by a truck."

I nod, stroking her blood crusted hair back off her face. "I know, I know. What hurts?"

She smiles again, studying my features. "Nothing."

I turn to Bailey at my right, making sure she heard that, watching as realization dawns. The imminent severity of shock.

The elevator doors open, the team running forward to the waiting room. I let Arizona's hand slip out of mine, holding back tears as they disappear into O.R. 2. As silence falls upon the hallway, I collapse, shaking with sobs.

I'm not sure if they're tears of happiness.

Yelling pulls me back, Dr. Shepherd's booming voice escaping into the hallway. I follow the noise, stopping to scrub in hastily and pull on a pair of gloves before tucking a mask against my tear-streaked face and entering the theatre. "With all due respect, Dr. Bailey, if we don't do something about the swelling in her brain, she will not wake up," Shepherd booms. I chance a look in Arizona's direction, her eyes finally closed and an intubation tube being carefully inserted in her throat. Everyone but the anesthesiologist and Bailey seems to flinch at Derek's tone.

"With all due respect, Dr. Shepherd," Bailey yells right back, "If she's in as severe a state of shock as I think she is, she won't wake up either because she will be dead."

I clear my throat, stepping into the battleground. "Start with the abdomen."

Dr. Shepherd shakes his head. "Dr. Torres, this really isn't your-"

"She's my wife," I interrupt. "It is my place."

"She's my patient right now, Callie, and her brain is swelling, so if you'll-"

I brush past him, towards Arizona's prepped body. The machines around her beep, her pressure still low. In one quick motion, before anyone can stop me, I grab a ten blade off the tray.

Start with the abdomen.

There's a slice. Blood. The rush to action.

I'll save you.