Writer's Note:
In the vast expanse of creation and critique, the soul's fragile whispers are often drowned by the thunderous demands of the world. Each rejection, a sharp blade that carves deeper into the essence of one's spirit, leaving scars that time struggles to heal. When visions are shackled, spirits are crushed in a creator's mind, the relentless weight of expectation might just snuff out the feeble glow of passion. The price of art and the toll it takes when the world demands too much, can be all consuming!
One Year Later
Seattle
The vast expanse of the Pacific Northwest lay just beyond the windows of Carina and Arizona's new, somewhat imposing residence. Tall trees stood sentinel, their leaves rustling with every gentle gust of wind, whispering tales of the region. The house itself was a beautiful blend of modern architecture and rustic charm. It should have felt like a sanctuary, but coldness inside betrayed the tranquillity of its surroundings.
Inside, the hardwood floors were still cold to the touch, devoid of the warmth that a home usually holds. The walls, freshly painted in soft neutrals, echoed with the stark silence that had settled in Carina and Arizona life for almost a year now.
Carina's study on the other hand was a room straight out of an author's dream. Walls lined with mahogany bookshelves showcased first editions and literary classics. The scent of leather-bound books mingled with the faint aroma of the morning's coffee. A heavy oak desk occupied the centre, cluttered with manuscripts, a vintage typewriter, and a sleek laptop. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed the soft glow of the city's sunlight to seep in, casting shadows that danced with the room's ambient lighting.
But as has been the trend off lately, the room's usual tranquillity was disrupted. Carina stood by her desk, her phone pressed to her ear, her posture rigid. The lines on her face were drawn tight, and her usually radiant black eyes looked clouded with frustration.
"Yes, Robert, I understand your reservations," Carina's voice was firm, though laced with a hint of desperation. "But this is my vision, my story."
On the other end, Robert, a top publisher known for his no-nonsense attitude, responded. "Carina, you're a fantastic writer, but these storylines... they're too vanilla…been told one too many times. They lack the allure that made 'Tempting Fate' such a hit."
She clenched her fist, trying to keep her emotions in check. This was the eighth publisher in the past month itself to decline her new blueprint.
A year ago, she was the literary world's darling, with publishers practically fighting for a chance to sign her. Now, she felt like she was screaming into a void, her voice unheard, her talent unappreciated.
"Robert," Carina's voice trembled with emotion, "A year ago, you all said I was a genius. What's changed now?"
Robert sighed audibly, "Carina, 'Tempting Fate' was groundbreaking. People hadn't read anything like that before. Your new proposals, while well-written, lack that edge, that pull. We need something fresh, something magnetic."
Carina's patience snapped. "You want 'fresh' and 'magnetic'? Perhaps you should remember that authors aren't machines. We have feelings, visions, and narratives that evolve."
Robert tried to pacify her, "Look, Carina, let's work on this together. Perhaps you can—"
But she had heard enough. "Goodbye, Robert." And with that, Carina hung up.
Her breath came out ragged, her chest heaving. The weight of the repeated rejections, the pressure to replicate the success of 'Tempting Fate', and the feeling of being cornered were becoming too much. In a fit of anger, Carina hurled her phone against the wall. The device shattered, its fragments scattering across the hardwood floor, mirroring the fragmented state of Carina's mind.
She sank to the ground, her head buried in her hands, tears threatening to spill. She felt like she was drowning, her voice silenced by the ever-increasing demands of the publishing world. She had started writing to express herself, to share her stories and connect with readers. But now, it felt like a relentless race, where her genuine emotions and narratives were constantly being scrutinised and compared.
The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in on her. The shadows grew darker, and the sounds outside seemed distant. She felt trapped in a cage of expectations, and every rejection felt like a bar being added, making escape seem even more elusive.
Gathering herself, Carina moved to the centre of the living room, her fingers lightly grazing a wooden corner table, feeling the coarse grain beneath her fingertips. Her thoughts were miles away, back in New York, where the vibrant hustle of the city was now replaced with the serene quiet of Seattle's outskirts. This move, prompted by a controversy she hadn't even fully disclosed to Arizona, weighed heavily on her shoulders.
She remembered the nights when the city lights of New York shimmered, mirroring the brilliance of her soaring career. Now, three manuscripts lay rejected in a drawer somewhere, each critique a piercing reminder of her faltering grip on her craft.
The strains of these professional setbacks reverberated through her personal life. Every rejection, every whispered conversation, had driven a wedge between her and Arizona. Their once harmonious relationship now felt like two notes clashing in discord.
Lost in thought, the weight of her decisions, the move, the secrets, the struggling career, culminated in a storm of emotions. With a scream of pure frustration, Carina's voice echoed through the house, a raw release of the pressure building up within her.
But there was no one to hear her here. She was alone. Arizona was too busy in her own career, her hospital, her department….that's all what mattered to her now.
Carina sighed and collected herself.
The scream, though momentary, seemed to shatter the silence that had blanketed the house since their arrival. It was a desperate cry, signalling the deep turmoil within her and the uncertainties of the journey ahead.
The paediatric ward at Seattle Grace Mercy West was abuzz with the typical sounds of a hospital: the soft murmur of hushed conversations, the occasional beep of monitors, and the distant calls of nurses attending to their duties. Amidst this symphony, the gentle zing of a pair of roller skates rolling down the hallways added a unique rhythm.
Dr. Arizona Robbins, with her striking blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes, stood out not just because of her position as the Head of Pediatrics but also for her distinct approach to her rounds. Her entrance into the ward was always theatrical, skating down the aisles, her golden locks bouncing with every move, eliciting giggles from her young patients.
While many initially doubted her decision to shift from the prestigious Hopkins, the move to Seattle had so far been professionally rewarding. Here, she was not just another attending surgeon; she gets to run her department the way she prefers.
First on her round list today was Tommy, a seven-year-old diagnosed with acute leukaemia. The brave little boy always had a joke ready for her. Today was no different.
As she approached his bed, he grinned, "Why did the nurse always carry a red pen, Dr. Robbins?"
Arizona played along, "I don't know, Tommy. Why?"
"In case she needed to draw blood!" Tommy burst into a fit of giggles.
Laughing, Arizona gave him a high-five, "You always know how to start my day right Tom-Tom!"
Next was little Isabella, a four-year-old awaiting a heart transplant. She was fascinated with Arizona's hair. "Your hair reminds me of Elsa's, Dr. Arizona! Do you have powers too?"
Smiling gently, Arizona replied, "My power is to help make you better. We're going to find you a strong heart soon."
Their rounds continued, each interaction showcasing Arizona's genuine love and dedication to her young patients. It wasn't just about the surgeries or treatments; it was about building trust, offering hope, and creating an environment where children felt cared for.
After completing her rounds, Arizona made her way to the bustling cafeteria. The room was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the chatter of staff on their breaks. Spotting her friend Teddy at a corner table, she walked over.
Teddy Altman, with her long brown hair and a perpetual sparkle in her eyes, greeted her with a smirk. "Guess what, Arizona? We've got a hotshot Ortho surgeon joining today, straight from Botswana."
Arizona rolled her eyes, her disinterest evident. "Oh, great. Just what we need, another star surgeon."
Teddy's smirk widened, and she added. "Rumour has it, she plays for your team?"
"So now you have people reporting to you from Africa as well?" Arizona asked as she dug into her lasagna.
"Oh hush! I got to know about this from Webber. Apparently Miss Stellar is Webber's personal choice. He had been holding the Head of Ortho position for her for a year now"
"At least, and hopefully she would be better than Mr. Dinosaur!"
The two friends got busy with their lunch, sharing hospital stories and secrets. But soon Teddy's interest piqued again,
"Why aren't you interested in meeting new people Arizona? or even dating?"
The question caught Arizona off guard. Her relationship with Carina, once a passionate love story, had turned into a delicate secret in Seattle. She recalled the early days of their marriage, filled with shared laughter, whispered promises, and dreams of a future together. But that happiness now felt like a distant memory, replaced with the shadows of uncertainty and pain. Moving to Seattle, a decision largely driven by Carina's personal and professional turmoil, had further strained their bond. The worst part? She couldn't even confide in her colleagues, bound by Carina's wish to keep their marriage a secret.
Feeling the weight of those memories, Arizona forced a smile, "Teddy, with all that's happening in the Peds department, I barely have time to breathe, let alone date."
Teddy gave her a knowing look but decided not to press further. "Oh Arizona! It's okay to seek happiness outside the OR."
Arizona nodded, taking a sip of her coffee, her mind a mess of emotions. While her professional life was on an upward trajectory, the void in her personal life grew deeper with each passing day.
Arizona's personal office was her new found sanctuary in the new city—that imposing house never felt like 'home' to her anyway. The walls here, adorned with pictures of her successful surgery outcomes and a few family and friends photos, offered a stark contrast to the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind. Sitting behind her desk, papers strewn about and the soft glow of her desk lamp illuminating her face, Arizona's gaze was fixed on a particular picture: a sunlit day at Central Park, where she and Carina were captured in a moment of pure joy.
The memories of that day flooded back. The laughter, the shared ice cream, Carina's eyes sparkling with mischief and love. But that radiant image of Carina felt like a stark contrast to the woman Arizona now knew. Ever since the series of manuscript rejections, a cloud seemed to hang over Carina, casting shadows that permeated their home.
Their grand house in Seattle, felt like a labyrinth of unsaid words and avoided confrontations. Carina had become almost reclusive, retreating into her study for days, leaving Arizona navigating the stretching silence alone. The study door remained shut most times, a barrier that symbolised the growing distance between them. On the rare occasions it was open, Arizona would get a glimpse of Carina, hunched over her typewriter, her face etched with frustration and determination, drowning in a sea of crumpled papers.
Nights were the hardest. The vast bed they shared felt like a cold expanse, Carina's presence merely a silhouette, her breathing the only reminder that she was still there, physically if not emotionally. Conversations had dwindled to brief exchanges, and the warmth that once defined their relationship was now replaced by a chilling silence.
Arizona's heart ached at the transformation. She missed the Carina who danced in the rain, who laughed freely, whose touch was filled with love. This new Carina, with her walls up and emotions guarded, was a stranger.
Lost in her reverie, Arizona was startled by a knock on her office door. Shaking away the memories, she called out, "Come in."
"Dr. Robbins. We need you for a consult" A nurse popped in and popped out with her messaging.
But the remnants of Arizona's thoughts lingered, a constant reminder of the widening chasm in her personal life. The hospital, with its challenges and rewards, became her refuge, a place where she could temporarily forget the heartache awaiting her at home.
The halls of Seattle Grace Mercy West hospital today held a different energy, a new face was making her presence felt.
Dr. Callie Torres walked with purpose, her posture exuding confidence. Dressed in fitted jeans that accentuated her toned physique and an olive-green top that complemented her sun-kissed tan, she was a striking contrast to the sea of scrubs around her. The tan, a souvenir from her time in Botswana, not only added a glow to her skin but spoke of the adventures she had and the lives she touched.
Every step she took, every corner she turned, was a reminder of the new journey she was embarking on. After seeing her first two patients, she felt invigorated. The complex cases, the rush, the thrill - it was everything she had been yearning for.
Lost in thought, she barely registered the blur of white approaching her and suddenly, she found herself colliding with a force, sending both her and the other party crashing to the ground.
Dazed, Callie blinked, trying to process what just happened. As her vision cleared, she found herself looking directly into the most captivating blue eyes she had ever seen.
Arizona, with her blonde hair cascading around her face, was equally stunned, her initial annoyance at the fall melting away as she too found herself drawn into Callie's fiery amber eyes.
The world seemed to pause for that fleeting moment. Two strangers, their lives intersecting in the most unexpected manner, were momentarily lost in each other.
Arizona was the first to snap out of the trance. Shifting her weight, she sat up, breaking their intense gaze. "Oh my god! I am so sorry!" she exclaimed, taking in the sight of Callie, whose olive-green top was now slightly askew, her hair fanning around her.
Callie, still absorbing the suddenness of their encounter, let out a chuckle. "Did you just... skate into me? In a hospital? Of all places…."
Arizona's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I... umm... It helps with the kids. I'm in Peds." She offered a hand to help Callie up. "Dr. Arizona Robbins."
Callie, grasping Arizona's hand and pulling herself upright, smirked, "Dr. Callie Torres, Orthopedics. And for future reference, skates and hospitals? Probably not the best combination."
Arizona huffed, her professional pride slightly wounded. "The kids love it. It brings a smile to their faces."
Callie raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing grin. "I'll remember that next time I'm treating someone with a broken bone courtesy of a skating doctor."
Arizona rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "Welcome to SGMW, Dr. Torres. I hope your future introductions are less….. dramatic."
Callie laughed, "Thank you, Dr. Robbins. Though, if they're all as memorable as this one, I won't be complaining."
The two shared a momentary, charged silence before going their separate ways.
The vast conference room, a symbol of power and authority within the walls of Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital, was abuzz with anticipation. The rich mahogany table, which had borne witness to countless debates, decisions, and directives, was surrounded by the most accomplished doctors of the establishment. The ambiance was a mix of clinical white and warm wood tones, and the room was bathed in the soft afternoon sunlight filtering through the large windows.
At the head of the table stood Dr. Richard Webber, his demeanour radiating gravitas. As the Chief of Surgery, his word held significant weight, and every announcement was met with rapt attention.
"Good afternoon, everyone," Richard began, his voice holding the familiar tone of command. "Today, we welcome a new addition to our SGMW family."
As he continued, his eyes glinted with pride. "Dr. Callie Torres, the much celebrated Orthopaedic surgeon from Botswana has joined as the new Head of Ortho. Not only is she a prodigy in her field, but her dedication goes beyond the confines of this hospital. Her work in Africa, where she set up clinics in remote regions, speaks volumes about her commitment to medicine and humanity."
Seated at the far end of the table, Arizona's interest was piqued. She recalled their unexpected meeting earlier, where she'd literally skated into Callie. Now, learning about her achievements, Arizona was even more intrigued. There was depth to Dr. Torres, layers waiting to be unravelled.
Beside Arizona, Teddy Altman raised an eyebrow sceptically. She had heard stories about many "brilliant" doctors who came and went. "Webber always did have a flair for the dramatic," she whispered to Arizona.
Dr. Owen Hunt, ever the soldier with sharp ears, leaned in, joining their conversation. "Actually, Teddy, the stories about Dr. Torres aren't just stories. I've heard from colleagues about her bravery. She has set up over thirty clinics in under a year, in places many wouldn't dare to go, and she's still so young."
Arizona and Teddy exchanged a look of surprise. The weight of Callie's achievements, especially given her youth, was a testament to her character.
Before their hushed conversation could continue, Richard's voice, slightly stern now, cut through their whispers. "The focus today, apart from welcoming Dr. Torres, is the upcoming hospital gala. Attendance is mandatory for all department heads. It's not just a social event but a platform to showcase our hospital's prowess and to network with potential donors."
A collective nod went around the table, but inwardly, a pang of sadness gripped Arizona's heart. These galas, with their glittering chandeliers, elegant gowns, and the symphony of laughter and chatter, always underscored her loneliness. With her relationship with Carina a veiled secret, she would once again be navigating the evening solo, a solitary figure amidst the crowd.
The meeting adjourned soon with a few more announcements.
As the last of the directives from Webber's meeting settled in the minds of the attending doctors, Callie and Addison emerged from the conference room, side by side. The soft lighting of the corridor added a gentle glow to their faces, both laughing heartily as they relived the old times.
Addison, with her vibrant red hair and sharp features, turned to Callie, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "You remember our med school days, right? God, those all-nighters before the finals. And how you always managed to sleep through anatomy classes?"
Callie laughed, the memory vivid in her mind. "Hey, in my defence, Dr. Keaton's lectures were like lullabies! And you weren't any better, always sneaking out with Mark during histology."
Addison smirked, "Ah, Sloan. We had our fun. Med school wasn't just about books and cadavers. We had our fair share of wild nights."
Callie raised an eyebrow teasingly, "Wild nights? You mean like the one where you ended up on the dean's lawn with... what was it, whipped cream and a stethoscope?"
Both women burst into laughter, the shared memories of youth and recklessness bridging the years they had spent apart.
As their laughter subsided, Callie's gaze shifted subtly, landing on the retreating figure of Dr. Arizona Robbins down the hall. With a curious tone, she asked, "What's the story with Dr. Robbins?"
Addison, following Callie's line of sight, smiled knowingly. "Arizona? Oh, she's a total charmer. Apart from being the head of Pediatrics at such a young age, she's done impressive work Internationally. Before joining SGMW, she was at Hopkins. But her heart is truly in global medicine – she's been on multiple missions, helping children around the world."
Callie's intrigue deepened, her initial encounter with Arizona now framed with newfound respect. "She sounds amazing. And that whole skating thing? Is that a regular occurrence?"
Addison chuckled, "That's classic Arizona for you. She believes in making the hospital experience less intimidating for the kids. It's a bit unorthodox, but it works wonders."
Lost in thought, Callie nodded. But before she could ask more, Addison's voice broke her reverie. "Hey, how about we catch up properly? Let's head to Joe's bar tonight. It'll be like old times."
Callie hesitated for a moment, then smirked playfully, "Sure, but I might not stay too long. After over a year in Botswana, and well, a self-imposed abstinence, I'm looking forward to picking up a woman and, you know, getting back in the game."
Addison's laughter echoed in the corridor as they walked away!
As Arizona pushed open the front door of her new house, the stillness felt palpable, an eerie prelude to the storm that was brewing. She sighed heavily. It had been a long day and she didn't had the energy to fight with Carina today.
Carina sat on the plush couch, her fingers absentmindedly turning the pages of a half-read manuscript, the room dimly lit by the muted glow of a floor lamp. Her face, usually radiant, was shadowed with a mix of resentment and anticipation.
The door's soft creak broke the silence, and without looking up, Carina's voice dripped with accusation. "You're late. Again."
Arizona, weary from the day, sighed. Her voice was tinged with exhaustion, "Carina, I'm head of a department now. It comes with added responsibilities."
But Carina wasn't having it. Her voice rising with every word, she shot back, "Responsibilities? What about your responsibilities here, Arizona? Ever since we moved to Seattle, you've been distant. I needed you the most today…. this past year, and where were you?"
Arizona's eyes, once filled with love for Carina, now flashed with hurt and anger. "Distant? Carina, I come home every day hoping to find my wife, but all I find is a stranger. You lock yourself in that study, shutting me out. Yes, I understand your career is going through a rough patch, but how do you expect me to be there for you when you're emotionally absent?"
The air grew thick with tension, each word adding fuel to the fire. Carina's face turned a shade darker, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "You think this is easy for me? Facing rejection after rejection?"
Arizona, her patience wearing thin, countered, "Maybe you should see a therapist. Talk to someone who can help."
This suggestion hit a nerve, and Carina's face contorted with anger. "So now, you think I'm crazy?!"
"No!" Arizona's voice cracked, her frustration evident. "I think we're both drowning, and I don't know how to save us."
The living room, once a sanctuary of their shared memories, was now a battleground. Words, like arrows, flew back and forth, each more piercing than the last.
Finally, with a heavy heart, Arizona spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, "I can't do this tonight. I'm leaving. I'll crash at the hospital."
As she headed for the door, she paused, turning back to Carina. "There's a hospital gala tomorrow. I hope you'll come…as a friend? Maybe a night out is what we need."
Carina, her anger replaced with a hollow emptiness, remained silent, her gaze fixed on the manuscript, as the sound of the door closing echoed in the cavernous room.
Callie, after her whirlwind night at Joe's, was looking forward to sinking into one of the bunk beds. The memories of the evening were fresh in her mind. The pulsating beats of the music, the laughter, the cocktails, and most vividly, the intoxicating hook up with a blonde…she can't remember the name of. Was it Sarah? Sonia?
Her night had been electric, starting with Addison's invitation to Joe's bar. Callie had obviously been itching for a night out, and her old friend had proven to be the perfect companion. They had been med school buddies, but life had taken them down different paths. Reuniting in Seattle felt like a long-overdue celebration.
Joe's bar was a haven for the city's medical professionals. The music pounded through the air, the dimly lit atmosphere thick with excitement. Callie was introduced to Addison's eclectic group of friends, each one adding a unique flavour to the night. Laughter and conversation flowed as freely as the drinks, and Callie found herself embracing the feeling of being alive, of not being weighed down by the responsibilities of work and the solitude of her hotel room.
It was amidst this vibrant backdrop that she met her blonde companion for the night. A sultry smile, a shared joke, and their connection was sealed. The blonde's emerald eyes held a hint of mischief that drew Callie in instantly.
And as the night wore on, the desire between them grew evident. They snuck away from the pulsating crowd, finding a secluded alleyway behind Joe's, they gave in to the tension that had been building. In the cool shadows of the night, their connection became physical, a dance of desire and need. It wasn't about forging a bond; it was purely about release.
The blonde's back was pressed against the brick wall, as Callie quickly removed her top and lowered the cup of her bra, Callie's lips trailed down her neck, pausing to suck on her heaving boobs. The sensation made the blonde gasp, her fingers clutching at Callie's back. Callie's other hand ventured lower, flicking the denim open expertly and roaming inside the blonde's soaked panties, her fingers were merciless, soon pushing in and out, their rhythm mirroring the intensity of their encounter. The blonde's body responded eagerly, her pleas growing more desperate with every movement.
Once the encounter reached its zenith, they parted ways, the understanding clear: it had been a fleeting moment of passion, not the beginning of something deeper.
The memory brought a smirk to Callie's face as she opened the door to the on-call room. The euphoria, however, was short-lived when she realised the room was already occupied.
There, on the bottom bunk, bathed in the soft glow of the emergency light, lay Dr. Arizona Robbins. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest indicated deep slumber. Her blonde hair sprawled on the pillow, and her lips, slightly parted, added to the tranquillity of her face. It was a side of Arizona that Callie hadn't seen yet - unguarded, serene, and breathtakingly beautiful.
An unbridled attraction surged through Callie, one she hadn't felt in a long time. The juxtaposition of her recent alleyway tryst with this pure moment of watching Arizona sleep was jarring, yet it was undeniable that this moment elicited a stronger, albeit different, desire within her.
With utmost care, not wanting to wake the sleeping beauty, Callie quietly made her way to the top bunk.
Settling into the top bunk, Callie's mind should have been at ease, especially after the exhilarating encounter with that blonde. The rush, the adrenaline, the sheer satisfaction should have been enough to lull her into a contented sleep. But as she closed her eyes, her mind conjured up images not of the blonde from the bar but of Arizona. The soft curve of Arizona's lips, the depth of her blue eyes, and the gentle cadence of her voice. It was odd, considering their limited interactions. Yet, there it was, an unbidden and powerful attraction, drawing Callie into a whirlpool of feelings she hadn't anticipated. She found herself yearning to know Arizona beyond the surface, beyond the corridors of SGMW. The juxtaposition of her raw physical release and the emotional tug Arizona induced created a maelstrom of emotions, making Callie wonder if this new chapter in Seattle held more surprises than she'd imagined.