Thanks so much for a follows and reviews and favs :) I've never posted stuff up before so this is the most anyone has ever read my stuff and it feels wonderful to be honest. I'm glad so far the reception has been positive. :)

Disclaimer: all characters except for Mikka belong to shondaland. The song belongs to Patrick Park.

"Well is this why you cling to every little thing

And pulverize and derange all your senses"

- Life is a Song, Patrick Park

Arizona

"Are you ready to talk yet, Zones?" She's staring straight at me. She shifts slowly and I can see the pain shoot through her eyes. I can't help but wonder how long she's been in this much pain. She's so strong and she hides it fairly well, almost too well. I know her enough, her mannerisms and quirks. Spending as much time as she did in my Peds ward helped me get to know the young woman. When her chest and neck begin to flush, she's in pain and right now, it's almost an angry red. I wish I could do something for her but I'm not her doctor and I know better than to overstep my bounds. She's not due for another bump of meds for a half hour or so. Callie will be in soon, I'm sure. I'd prefer not to mess with her treatment plan.

"Tell me about Callie." This girl is relentless.

"Tell me about Dan, " I fire back. Two can play at this game.

"That's over," she says, simply. She lies fully on her side, her hands tucked under the pillow as she shivers gently. There's no sadness in her eyes when she says this. No nostalgia and no regret.

"What happened?" I walk over and bring the blanket up to cover her shoulders. I sit on the edge of her bed, if we're going to be discussing personal matters it would be best if we weren't talking at full volume. At this hospital, it feels like even the walls have ears.

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours!" I can see her mood change a little as I move closer to her, pushing back slightly to adjust for my position on the bed. My feet are off the ground and I am grateful to have my leg rest a bit. It's been a long day of surgeries and consults.

"Now who's acting like a child? I'm not going to barter failed relationship stories, Mikka," I can't help but roll my eyes at her. I'm sure one day I'll give in and tell her about it all but right now isn't the time.

"One friend to another, then." I know better than this but I can't help it. Our eyes meet and I can feel my resolve buckle. The boundary between doctor and patient is a blurred one that in particular this hospital straddles constantly. This girl, I feel like this girl is a confidant. I am drawn to tell her everything but my feelings for Calliope keep me from taking this any further. One story from only one side is a dangerous game and I would never want her to feel caught in the middle, feeling like she needed to choose a side. There are no sides here, only broken hearts.

"I just… screwed it all up. I was broken and screwed it all up. There was only so much our relationship could take. That's all I'll say for now."

"I'm gay."

I smile, knowingly. I always had a hunch. My gaydar is still pretty good. She looks at me incredulously. I can almost hear her say "Shut up, Zones." We talk a while longer, she's clearly avoiding something and I'm not sure what. I decide that I'm going to wait until she decides to tell me.

I can almost sense when she's around. She is everything to me and yet she's so far. I've memorized her footsteps. It feels like the air changes when she's around. My Calliope. She walks in and I can tell right away that it's not good. "Hey Mikka, how are you feeling?" Her voice has dropped a little, it must be really bad.

"I've had better days, Doctor Torres," Mikka struggles to sit up. She looks exhausted, drained. I'm hoping a good night's rest will help but honestly, I know it probably won't. Not if she's already in this much pain. I start to wonder where her parents are? Duke and Andrea were late a lot the last time Mikka was admitted but they showed up when it really mattered. I make a mental note to ask her about them later. They may not even know. It took Mikka some time to call her parents the last time she was here and if it's as bad as I think it, she should really call them.

Callie looks at me and our eyes meet briefly. I relish in this for a brief moment. We barely look at each other anymore. She nods toward the door and I nod back. I start to stand and I feel slender fingers wrap around my wrist, "Stay with me, Zones. I don't have anyone else."

My heart breaks a little, her voice sounds so small. Callie sighs audibly, it's clear she's uncomfortable with this but I ignore her and replace myself back onto the bed next to Mikka.

Suddenly, it feels like everything in moving in slow motion as I digest what she is saying. All of my suspicions confirmed but even worse. I find myself flashing back to my old friend, Nick. It's slightly different for Mikka though. Worse. Far more advanced. The cancer has spread to her heart and brain. It is a miracle she's walking. I can feel my heart break for her. I look over and Mikka's eyes are shining with tears dancing, pooling in her lower eyelids. I instinctively grab her hand and squeeze it tight. I swallow the lump in my throat. This isn't my time to cry. This isn't about me at all. This is about this darling, beautiful girl who's just been handed a death sentence. I have no words to say other than I'm sorry and I hate myself for it.

As a doctor, I say sorry a lot. Sometimes I can do something about it, other times, it's a true apology that despite constant medical advances, I can't help. I can't save everyone, no matter how hard I try. It is the worst part of the job. They tell me to focus on the lives I can save and all I can think about some days are the tiny coffins of the children who've past and the tinier ones of the babies I couldn't save. They still haunt me, this part of my job likely always will. Sorry doesn't change anything. Maybe we say it to make ourselves feel better about what's about to happen. Maybe we say it because we don't know what else to say. Either way, I truly am sorry and I am heartbroken. She doesn't deserve this.

I look at Callie and our eyes meet briefly. I can tell she's having the same internal dialogue.

"I'm so sorry, Mikka," Callie and I say, our voices staggered.

"Mikka, I think maybe we should call your parents," I say gently, my thumb slowly tracing circles over the skin of her hand. She grips my hand tightly as tears begin to spill from her cerulean eyes.

As sob escapes her lips as she fights to speak, her lower lip trembling as fat droplets cascade down her cheeks at all angles, "I can't. They're dead."