A\N: Please, continue spreading awareness about what is going on in Palestine, Congo, Sudan and Yemen at the moment and calling for a permanent and lasting ceasefire. Check out free palestine, free congo and free sudan hashtags on social media and accounts like wizard_bisan1 and azaiazamotaz9 on Instagram and twitter

—

Once again Amelia opened the door when Arizona was contemplating knocking for the fourth time. The house or at least the part of it Arizona could see from where she as standing on the porch, was dark, matching the circles under Amelia's faded eyes, all the curtains closed tightly.

"What is it?" the bothered woman asked directly, the outside light making her squint painfully.

"I've got ice cream. Caramel crumble," she said amicably, recovering from the bluntness she was greeted or rather not greeted at all with. She truly hoped ice cream and not something else could become Amelia's equivalent of doughnuts and help at least a little. Since she clearly didn't have a Nick to stubbornly drag her out to the light, both literally and figuratively.

Even if partly his stubbornness was driven by a gaping void of guilt, anger and grief that took Tim's place in his heart. They both carried it around now and each other wasn't nearly enough to ever fill it again. But nevertheless it was something for a time being. Then Nick left. She did too, her void only expanding over the years.

"Not in the mood. So if that's all…" she looked Arizona straight in the eyes with a challenge, arms crossed defensively. If Arizona hadlost a brother herself she'd have likely lost the challenge.

"You haven't been picking up any of Addison's calls," she said instead, chewing on her lip sheepishly.

"How would you know that? Last time I checked, you were not exactly friends. Herman was her friend. But she is dead. Just like my brother."

There was too much to react to in this single sequence of phrases.

"Um…" Arizona, swallowed, head spinning. "She… kind of offered me a fellowship, I guess."

"Well, congratulations. Then I guess you can tell her yourself that I'm perfectly fine and just don't want to talk whenever you are up in L.A. The beaches are to die for, by the way."

"I haven't-" Arizona stumbled, the door closing right in front of her. "-I'm going to say 'no'", she admitted mostly to herself, shoulders slumping.

She had her suspicions about how the conversation would end, pretty strong ones too, since she'd been exactly where Amelia was right now. But she came anyway, because Addison asked and it was the only part of their talk she could really act on, because just like she had said moments ago, she was going to reject the fellowship offer.

"What?" the door swung open again, Arizona's forehead hitting the air comically. "Why?"

"Well… because I have a four years old kid and can't move all the way to L.A for a year on a whim?" suggested Arizona, sounding a little bit defensive herself now.

"Right. Kids," muttered Amelia. "You know, you've managed to make my mood even worse, so I think I'll take the ice cream after all."

"I can live with that, I guess." Arizona passed her the jar, accepting defeat with dignity.

"Thank you. And… Addison is a total rockstar, by the way."

"Oh, I know, believe me."

"Montgomery… she's a rockstar." Nicole thought aloud, a little bit of her whiskey splashing out of her glass. "Now a rockstar with a toddler apparently."

"Wait, wait, wait, so I was, and I quote, a complete disaster when we started, and she is a rockstar?"

"Well, yeah. It is what it is. No need to be jealous. Which also reminds me, when are you getting me my well deserved medal?"

Arizona chuckled, pushing Nicole lightly with her foot. "The only medal I kind of have technically belongs to my brother. Posthumous."

"Wow, dark. Am I rubbing off on you, Robbins?"

"Yeah, well… whatever. And superstar… superstar sounds better, by the way. Callie… she is a superstar," sighed Arizona, enough whiskey in her body to be balancing unsteadily on the fragile line between sad and happy drunk. As if she actually could be happy in any capacity.

"Hold on… You are not chirpy! It does happen after all. When you are drunk!"

"Jackpot, I guess." The balance tipped towards the sad side.

"I wonder what other dirty secrets I can get out of you…"

"Is still being in love with your wife when you are divorced considered dirty enough in your books?"

"First of all, it's not a secret, especially when you are so obviously and I'm starting to seriously think, lethally allergic to saying 'ex-wife' like any other normal, emphasis on 'normal', divorced person would. So no," tsked Nicole, refilling their glasses with a generous portion of brown liquid. "In my books it's considered miserable. Plain and simple."

"Cheers to that." Arizona's glass landed on the desk with a thud, empty once again, whiskey burning her throat, tears – burning her eyes.

She popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth to soften the blow. "Tell me about your husband. I mean, ex-husband, of course."

"I already did. What else do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Something. There's plenty of whiskey left."

"He proposed on an air balloon."

"What?" Arizona opened one eye lazily. "Isn't that 'too cheesy' for you?"

"Oh, it was. His first red flag, really. What about you? Who proposed?"

"I did."

"Obviously."

"Seconds later we crashed into a freaking truck. Callie was almost seven months pregnant."

"Hm… So Sofia was born prematurely?" Nicole made an easy guess.

"Yeah, why?"

"It's just… explains you a little, I guess.

"What is that supposed to mean?" This time Arizona opened both eyes, propping herself up.

"It means… anyone but you would have run for the hills at the very beginning of the fellowship," Nicole said reluctantly.

"Hm." A small satisfied smile started playing on Arizona's lips.

"Don't get too full of yourself. You still were a complete disaster when we started. And I still very much deserve a medal."

—

"Yeah… That's right. I will. Once again, I'm so sorry and thank you. Have a good day."

Addison said 'you too', like any polite person would, yet Arizona had a persistent gut feeling her day was going to go sideways.

Mr. Reid shared her opinion apparently, his fear determined to make the assumption come true.

"Okay, why aren't we hearing from that…" Mrs. Reid snapped her fingers neurotically, "UNOS organization?"

"Because they are doing nothing, that's why," her husband chimed it with a growl, answering the question instead of Arizona. His breath smelled like cigarettes. A lot of cigarettes.

"We are doing everything we can, John," assured Arizona for the thousandth time. "Milly is first on the transplant list."

"Right," the man muttered, dragging his hand over his exhausted unshaven for weeks face.

"John…" Diane looked at Arizona apologetically, too exhausted to fight. "He's just…"

"It's alright. I understand." Arizona put her hand on Mrs. Reid shoulder briefly. "The nurse will be checking on her throughout the day."

She went into the elevator as if it was a saving grace, allowing her to relax her shoulders. They tensed again a moment later when an orderly wheeled Jessica in. She was being discharged. Without a baby to bring home with herself. Their eyes met just for a second. It was more than enough for Arizona to grasp one more person hated her now. She didn't judge, honestly. Jessica had every right. In fact, she didn't even know how much stronger her hatred for Arizona could be if she was aware of both her specialties.

Arizona knew and was perfectly aware and it was enough. So she went to the farmacy and bought a pack of nicotine bands. Her pager started beeping when she was trying to open one. 'Sideways' went a long way evidently.

Very, very long. All the way to more than a year ago.

"Hi, Dr. Robbins!"

She knew the voice. She knew the face. Even though both sounded and looked more mature now.

"Simmi? What happened?" Arizona asked, surprised, adressing the question to both her ex-patient and Callie as they stood (Simmi lay) in Trauma 4. Callie passed her the x-rays. Of a broken ankle. Surgical.

"I was riding a bike," explained Simmi with a pained but still bright, even a little bit sarcastic, smile. "You told me I could!"

"Well, we thought it goes without saying that you should try not to fall," joked Callie.

Arizona stayed silent, memories immediately clouding her mind despite her tries to stay in the present.

"I will try to be a better cop tomorrow."

"I will try to be a little more of a bad one."

they promised each other walking out of the hospital together, Sofia between them, blissfully unaware of her tights being the topic of her mothers' (and simultaneously Alex's) day. The next morning they went at it together. The tights were on in record time. They were becoming a good team again, slowly but steadily going back to the best version of them.

Back then they were both willing to try. Arizona missed this. Missed the banter. Missed the connection. Missed thinking she could be the woman Callie married again.

She missed Callie. She missed her home, sleeping on her side of the bed at night now.

And the reality couldn't be more different from the memories.

Simmi apparently had something to remember to as she clutched into Arizona's hand right before the anaesthesiological mask was put on her face.

"Dr. Robbins… I'm sorry I called you that word back then," she said, almost looking like she was suddenly panicking. If Arizona was surprised she didn't show it. Instead she gestured for the anaesthesiologist to wait under Callie's curious gaze.

"It's okay." She freed her wrist from Simmi's grasp and took her hand in hers reassuringly. "I promise. Now why don't you count from 1 to 10, okay?"

"Okay." Giving her doctor's hand a grateful squeeze, the girl closed her eyes, her lips moving silently. Less than ten seconds later she was safely asleep.

Callie's curiosity was wide awake though. At least Arizona thought so, feeling persistent brown eyes glancing at her, supposedly in secret, quite a few times throughout the two-hour surgery. Addison request to 'say hi to Callie' was burning her tongue. She wondered if Addison knew about the divorce in the first place. She had no idea. Last time Arizona remembered them talking the quiet conversation was about Mark. Meanwhile she was stewing in her seemingly endless despair in the bedroom, lying on a mocking hospital bed.

"So… what did she call you?" Callie held on exactly till Arizona made the last neat stitch, her voisr rising unnaturally towards the end of the question.

Arizona froze, biting her lip behind the mask. Were divorced people supposed to have conversations like that? Probably not. Answering her own question, she put the instruments away carefully, stubbornly avoiding any possibility of their eyes meeting. Callie was still waiting.

"A cripple," gave in Arizona at the last moment, pushing the door out of the O.R. It felt like she was running. She wanted to. Callie was too lost to say something to her back.

She didn't make it very far away, sitting on a bench outside the hospital, when the universe immediately reminded her the day was still very much going sideways as it was their bench. Memories of infinite lunches, coffees and long conversations or long content silence they had shared here over the years surfaced readily once again. Ironically, the last time Arizona could remember them sitting there they were discussing Tyler Sims' surgery. Then the bench and everything else became tainted by Lauren Boswell. The stains never came off fully, murder houses and rings turning out to be helpless.

The nicotine band wasn't working anymore. Wasn't it easy to not smoke? Then again, nothing was easy anymore.

As if feeling her desire to light a cigarette on some deep unconscious level with his military radar, the Colonel decided to call right that moment. Arizona knew ever since she had laid those white roses on Tim's grave a call was coming her way inevitably. Two calls, actually. The Colonel got to it first. She hoped it would not follow the day's scenario. She couldn't stomach a fight with her father right now. She very rarely could to be completely and utterly honest. Even after she had mostly reigned in her issues with authority figures.

"Hi, Dad. Yeah… yeah… I was there. A day before, yes. Because…."

—

A little bit ahead in terms of chapters on AO3: /works/49609279/chapters/125210338

comments are more than welcome and greatly appreciated!