She should have looked at the charts. She was a doctor, for god's sake, she should have looked at the damn charts. But she wanted to be there for her, to support her fully, as a partner and not as a doctor. She took time off work and sat beside her day and night and held her hand and just tried to be there emotionally, rather than professionally. When Callie woke up she felt so relieved and overjoyed that she hardly paid attention to anything else, let alone to some numbers on a piece of paper. All she cared about was that Callie was okay, finally, that she made it through and will continue to make it through. She fell asleep holding Callie's hand, which was so nice, because Callie is awake and can squeeze back now.
Jo Wilson is the intern on the case, and in the morning after Callie's miraculous recovery she comes in for rounds. With such patience and care she explains everything to Callie, goes over her charts slowly and answers each of Callie's many questions.
So it takes her by surprise.
It surprises Arizona that, when Jo is detailing Callie's hCG levels, they are consistent with those of a woman 8 weeks pregnant. Callie seems surprised, too, which is very small comfort, but comforting nonetheless, to know she hasn't been lied to. They've already been dating 8 weeks back but not exclusively, as Callie mentioned rather nonchalantly previously. It's a surprise, is all. And Callie seems so happy about it that Arizona is struggling to express the full extent of her shock, because Callie is smiling for the first time after days of being comatose, after a horrific and nearly deadly car accident, so how can Arizona not smile back? How can she break it to this woman that she does not want to be a mother, let alone to Mark Sloan's accidental baby?
It's all a bit too much for her to deal with, but Arizona powers through, because that's who she is and that's what she does. She sits there, listening to doctors giving Callie orders and updating her and congratulating her. She sits there when Mark comes in and Callie tells him about the pregnancy, and he gets so excited that he kisses her on the lips. Whatever, what's a simple kiss on the lips of a woman who's carrying your child. She sits there when Derek and Meredith come in to check on Callie, and she tells them the news she woke up to, and Arizona's heart stings when she realizes Amelia will be hearing about it from them soon enough.
She misses her. Every part of her tired body and even more exhausted mind misses her. Nobody ever said that doing the right thing is easy, or that it would feel good. But Arizona is a good man in a storm, and the storm Calliope is going through seems to take precedence, at least that's what her logical brain is telling her. But that doesn't mean it's not painful. Because it is. To see Amelia avoiding her gaze while doing morning rounds on Callie is painful. To hear across the hall that Amelia is scoring all the good surgeries lately is painful, too, because she so wishes to congratulate her, but can't. She made the rules and now she has to stick to them. It's painful to hear the heartbeat of Callie's growing baby and know she could never love it like a mother should.
On Hospital Day 22 for Callie, and for Arizona too, Callie finally notices that something is amiss. She's on less pain medication now, one of the casts has been taken off her arms, and she's awake for longer hours. So she notices more things. She notices that Arizona doesn't smile brightly during the ultrasound, unlike herself.
"What's wrong?" She asks Arizona once the obstetrician leaves, holding onto the 3D picture of her child as if it were a precious gemstone.
It must be the lack of sleep, or the lack of having left the hospital in days now, or the lack of having worked at her beloved job for 3 weeks that gets Arizona to be more sincere than she intends to.
"I just don't really know what to tell you, Calliope," she says through a heavy sigh, and hopes hopes hopes that Callie won't dig into it further. But she does.
"About what? Is it about the baby? Are you worried there's something wrong?" There's panic in her voice now, which is to be understood, because Arizona is a pediatrician and trained to notice birth defects.
"It is about the baby, but there's nothing wrong with her. She's perfectly healthy." Let it be the end of this conversation. She should go get some coffee and get a grip.
"Tell me," Callie begs, but there's clear relief in her voice and face now that she knows the baby is alright. She's prioritizing her child, as parents do, which is exactly why Arizona doesn't wish to become one.
"It's just… We haven't really talked about this before, but you should know that I don't want to be a mother." There.
"You mean right now?" Callie probes with a smile, as if she's thinking sure, everybody's a little scared of it at first.
"Ever. I never want to be a mother."
"But you're a pediatrician… And a woman," Callie laughs, raising her brow like Arizona's being totally illogical here.
"I am, I'm both those things, and yet I don't want to have children."
"You love children!"
"I love treating children, Calliope," Arizona tries to stay calm, "I love being their doctor, and trying to help them have a better life than they would have had I not been. That doesn't mean I want to mother any of them." Is it actually that hard to understand? Arizona has by now seen innumerable children who have done absolutely no wrong in this world suffering from some of the worst and most painful ailments a person could have. She had to perform surgeries on miniature babies and tiny children and precocious teens and none of them deserved to die, but they did. So, no, she does not want to bring children into this world only to watch them unreasonably suffer and then perish.
"You're a woman, Arizona, it's our biological calling," Callie tries to reason with her, as if there's any rationality to that line of thinking.
"It's also our biological calling to mate with men who have penises and can inseminate us, yet here I am, a lesbian."
"I'm not sure what you want me to do with this information, Arizona, I'm having this baby. I'm happy to have this baby, and Mark is too."
"And I'm happy for the two of you, Callie, but I need you to know that this isn't something I ever wanted. I'm so glad you're doing well, and I'm here because I want to be with you, but you can't expect me to extatically hop on board the baby choochoo train. It isn't me…" It saddens her to say this, especially seeing the hurt in Callie's eyes, but it has to be out there. She cares for Calliope deeply, and wants to be happy with her, to build something together finally, but not without honesty.
"Okay," Callie sighs, then pauses to collect her thoughts. She's looking anywhere but at Arizona, which is great, because Arizona is shedding a tear she really wishes for Callie not to see. "I just… I love you, Arizona."
Wow. The last time Arizona was this surprised to hear something, it was the news of Callie's pregnancy. Admittedly not that long ago, but still. Callie loves her. It's almost funny, but at the same time cruel, that her reaction to this love confession is more shock than joy. Because the last time someone confessed their love for her, well… The last time someone confessed their love to her she was so thrilled it made her speechless. In all the one minute she had to digest Amelia Shepherd's love confession, she felt a happiness only comparable to that she experienced when she got accepted to Hopkins, her dream school. When Amelia said 'I think you should know I'm in love with you. Very much so,' Arizona's heart felt as if it was physically attempting to leave her chest and lurch towards that wonderful beautiful woman who said the words. And they weren't just your everyday words, either. That 'very much so' had done Arizona in. She felt very much so, too.
"I had sex with Amelia," is what she blurts out in response. Because her mind is so full of it that her mouth is just being dragged along.
"Oh," Callie says, more sad than surprised, which should say something really.
"I'm telling you this because you were honest with me, and I want to be honest with you, too. I broke the rule you asked me to keep, because I have… Because I had strong feelings for Amelia. It happened the night before your accident."
"And now?" Callie asks timidly.
"And now I'm here, with you. I've been here with you ever since."
"I love you," Callie says again, to Arizona's utter chagrin. "I love you, Arizona. You saved me by being here, and you saved me by being with me before the accident. I was such a wreck after George died… Spending time with you, dating you, it's been a dream. And I'm so sure that we can make it. So I'm asking you… I'm basically begging you to stay with me, to figure this thing out together and make it work. Can you do that for me?"
Calliope is so sweet and trusting that it makes Arizona want to do the same. Her father once told her that sometimes one person has more faith in the relationship than the other, but that it doesn't mean it's all doomed. He told her all about how he had chased her mother, pining for her, knowing in his heart that they'd make it. And at first her mother didn't trust him or believe him, had said they were far too different, and that their careers would never allow for a successful marriage. But here they were, all these years later. So maybe he's right. Maybe you just have to take a leap of faith, and trust that the other person will catch you, and have enough belief in the relationship for the both of you until you do too.
"I can," Arizona finally replies. Now she just has to convince herself of it.
She's weak. Weak and sad and exhausted. After 4 weeks of sitting at Calliope's bedside, of caring for her, of holding her hand and helping her eat, and listening to the baby's strengthening heartbeat while Mark and Callie excitedly point towards each of the fetus's 10 fingers and 10 toes, she's finally back at work. The case load is terrifyingly high, and her patients are very vocal about the fact that they missed her. Some of them are expressive about the fact they hate her now, for having neglected them. She's sure that eventually she'll regain the trust of the little humans and their makers, but she's not too happy about being put in the need to do so in the first place. Children have a different conception of time than adults do. For those of them who stay in the hospital permanently, not seeing her for such a long time is proof in the pudding that she doesn't actually care about them at all, and she may as well not be their doctor anymore. Her hours of playing with them, of learning each of their favorite TV shows, and the best superheroes, and which classmate never came to visit them, it's all basically down the drain as far as those kids are concerned. So she makes them cupcakes on her first day back, and sits with each of her most ill patients for a long time, explaining where she's been and answering their questions, most of which pertain to whether she hates them or not. She explains with as much care and compassion as she can that she never has and never will hate them, she just had to be there for her special friend. The teenage patients understand her by the end of her speech, even if they still hold a bit of a grudge, and the younger ones are more easily distracted by the cupcakes. Overall, it's a successful day, but by the end of it all she wants to do is crawl into a hole and not come out for another month.
So she's weak. Her body aches and her heart pangs. In the state she's in, seeing Amelia tiredly go into an attending's on-call room feels like a sign. A sign of what, she's not sure, but by the time she asks herself the question she's already following the young Shepherd into them room.
"Jeez!" Amelia swears, surprised when she turns to close the door behind her but finds Arizona standing there instead.
Her eyes are cheerless and she seems to have lost weight, which is quite noticeable on her already thin body, but she's as beautiful as ever. Maybe more, with all this longing. Arizona feels the tips of her fingers tingling, the nerve-ends there reminding her how long it has been since she held Amelia, reminding her of all the times they were weaving through Amelia's long black hair, all the times they caressed her soft pale cheek, all the times they tangled with Amelia's own fingers, all the times Amelia has sucked them into her mouth…
"You must have heard by now," Arizona says once she finds her voice in the dim room, closing the door behind them. It's funny that a single minute ago all she wanted to do was be alone, but she hasn't considered how good it would feel to be alone with Amelia.
"About the baby? Yeah, congratulations. Mark won't shut up about it." Amelia says it all so lifelessly that it tears at Arizona. She doesn't even look at her as she speaks, simply walks over to the bed and sits down to take her shoes off.
"I never planned for any of this, Amelia," Arizona tries to explain, and hates that it sounds as if she's trying to justify any of what happened these past few weeks. There's no justification for the way she must have hurt Amelia, and a stronger woman than her would have apologized by now.
"I know," Amelia says with such conviction in her voice that it actually makes Arizona smile.
"It's not an excuse, it's just a fact," Arizona continues, kneeling to sit on the floor in front of Amelia. Instinctively, Amelia opens her legs and envelopes Arizona's arms with her thighs. It feels so wonderful to be wrapped up in her again. "I hate that I hurt you, and I never meant to do it."
"I know," Amelia says again, moving to lay her hands on Arizona's shoulders in reassurance. She hesitates, so Arizona puts her on hands on Amelia's thighs, to show her just how welcome her touch is. Amelia gives a tiny little smile at that, stroking her thumbs along the edges of Arizona's clavicle, and Arizona downright melts.
"One of the first things you and I bonded over was not wanting babies, and now I'm about to be in this kid's life as some sort of a stepmom. It's… A lot. But I can't leave Callie just because she happened to have gotten pregnant and decided to keep it."
"I know," Amelia repeats, and it's starting to get infuriating how kind she's being about all of this.
"Why are you being so supportive?" Arizona asks her. "I don't deserve any of this. I ruined us." Arizona faintly thinks about the fact that it's probably the first time she has ever referred to her an Amelia as an 'us' out loud… and what a sad first time it is.
"Because," Amelia chuckles and shakes her head, as if Arizona is being silly, "I know you by now. I fell in love with you for a reason, Ari. You're a good person. You're exactly the type of person who would double down on their commitment to someone in their time of need, and who wouldn't leave them just because the terms of the contract changed a bit. That's what good people do, they try to pursue what they define to be the right thing. I know you must be terrified right now, but you have nothing to be scared about. I've seen you with kids. I've seen you become the person they can count on. I've seen you fight for preemies and whisper 'come on, baby girl,' when you think nobody's around to hear you. You'll be fantastic."
It's brutal how much she wishes she could kiss Amelia right now. And since she's weak, she does. She leans forward and only allows Amelia a second to push her away, and since she does no such thing, but simply lets her eyes flutter shut, Arizona closes the gap between them. Amelia's lips are nothing like she remembered them, but at the same time, they remained exactly the same. While typically demanding and bruising, Amelia's lips are now yielding in surrender. She lets Arizona take exactly what she needs, which is nearly everything, without a word of protest. So Arizona kisses her for what feels like an hour, alternating between soft pecks and deep tongue-thrusting, she bites at Amelia's pillowy lips then kisses the corners of her mouth with a feather light touch. She grips Amelia's head in her hands and brings them so close together neither of them can breathe. The room fills with the sound of Arizona's desperate need to let Amelia know she hasn't forgotten for a second how perfect this is. How supremely perfect they are.
"I'm sorry for not being a strong man," she finally whispers against Amelia's reddened lips, pushing away to look at the beautiful face of this woman who deserves so much better.
"You were," Amelia says with a mournful smile, stroking her cheek. "Just for someone else's storm."
It's so fitting that she's been kneeling all this time, as if worshipping at the alter that Amelia Shepherd is. The pain in her legs when she gets up to leave is nothing at all compared to the breaking of her heart.