Dr. Arizona Robbins is doing very well, thank you for asking. She's doing great. Fantastic, in fact, judging by the tears of the third resident she has snapped at this week alone. Crap. She knows, she knows, what a bitch. It's hard to feel sorry for those poor duckling surgeons, though, when she's this busy feeling sorry for herself. If Arizona had to choose a metaphor, she'd say she feels like a child whose favorite toy was taken away from them. She's been unable to play with her toy for more than two weeks now, and if she weren't a doctor she would have diagnosed herself with acute withdrawal symptoms. Given her MD, she's being forced to admit to simply being a big old baby.
So, yes, staying away from Amelia Shepherd may be proving itself more difficult than expected. Especially on days like last Sunday, when Amelia single-handedly admitted and cared for an entire ER in the matter of a few hours. Arizona really wishes she wasn't there to witness the young Shepherd's brilliance, because it made things harder than they already were. Staying away is also hard when she's being invited to Amelia's Very Secret Surprise Party being thrown by her adoring family at Joe's tonight. Arizona does what any sane person who wishes to protect themselves would do, and brings a human shield along for the ride in the form of Callie Torres.
Truthfully, she's enjoying her time with Calliope a lot. Callie is so fun, pretty, relaxed, and funny. She's exactly what Arizona needed, someone who's not afraid to express their affection for her openly, and who can bring ease into her life. They've been on four dates post Thanksgiving fiasco, and Callie has even been kind enough not to try and dig into whatever was clearly going on between Arizona and Amelia that evening. Kissing Calliope was very nice, too. And if sometimes Arizona closes her eyes when they kiss, and her mind drifts, and an image in blue and black flashes, well that's very normal and nobody's business.
As they enter the bar, Arizona realizes that everyone seems to have gathered here, from interns up to Chief Hunt, and even Webber is sporting a glass of ginger ale as he chats off with Sloan and Montgomery. She recognizes the million Shepherd sisters in their loud galore, too, sitting with Derek and Meredith. Quite the crowd for little Amelia Shepherd. She's happy for her. Saying their hellos and finding a table, Arizona suddenly notices a stage and band set-up that's never been there before at Joe's. She'd have bothered looking further into it if it weren't for the guest of honor making her entrance just that minute.
"Surprise!" The whole room shouts and breaks into a raucous. That's good. The noise and mess are very very good. Because they allow Arizona the time and discretion to soak in the sight before her.
The thing is, Amelia Frances Shepherd is a very pretty woman, it's an objective fact and not news to any person with eyes. But tonight Amelia is gloriously beautiful. Her long black hair is done half up into a twisty little thing, her face is made up to the nines, with dark makeup emphasizing just how bright blue her eyes are. And she… Wow… She's wearing a lavender colored satin jumpsuit that is hugging things Arizona didn't even realize could be hugged on Amelia's petite body. Scrubs can be misleading.
Arizona then catches a glimpse of the outfit's backside as Amelia embraces her thousands of guests, and nearly faints right there and then. The jumpsuit's high collar gives way to a bare back that stretches on and on and dips almost obscenely low. And, well, the hugging theme continues in the back side too. Very temptingly so. The satin jumpsuit's flared bottom sways as Amelia moves around the room, showing several inches of high silver platform sandals, and Arizona is decidedly not imagining how convenient it would be to finally have Amelia Shepherd at eye level. Nope.
"She's gorgeous, isn't she?" Jo Wilson suddenly appears at her side, admiring the same sight Arizona has been. "It took so much convincing to get her into the outfit Addison chose for her, she didn't get why she needs to be so dressed up for drinks as Joe's."
Arizona can hear herself chuckling, but truthfully she may not have, she has no idea. She's far too distracted by the sight of Amelia's stunning million-watt smile as she hugs one person after another, swung into a bear hug by her brother then another squeezing embrace from Mark. Then Amelia seems to catch sight of some people Arizona's never seen before, and she appears to be shocked into a stupor as she hugs them. Her bliss is so lovely to watch that Arizona's mouth repeats Jo's word "gorgeous" before she can catch herself. She can only hope Callie sitting next to her doesn't realize.
"Alright, everybody," Derek suddenly says into a microphone on the makeshift stage, "I know you're all wondering what the hell this set-up is all about. Well, our little Amy is turning twenty five today-" the crowd cheers loudly before he can continue, and Arizona gets it, she does, it's really nice to live on a planet that has circled the sun 25 times in honor of Amelia Shepherd. "But before she came here to be a brilliant future neurosurgeon-"
"Or plastics!" "Or OB!" "Or general!" Amelia's assembled family shouts back at him all together.
"As I was saying, before she came here to become a brilliant neurosurgeon, Amelia had a very stubborn demand of our mother."
"Oh, god!" Amelia can be heard groaning through the small group of people surrounding her. Arizona wonders what she smells like tonight, and hopes everybody's persistent hugging and squeezing haven't rubbed it off Amelia before she can catch a whiff. She hopes she'd be allowed to.
"She said, 'mom, you've put all my siblings through med-school, but I'm not gonna let you do it for me.' You see, baby Amy actually started a little band back when she was a college sophomore, and they got some traction, I'm not gonna lie."
A band?! Guess that explains the strangers and the instruments and the stage and the fact someone seems to be checking some cable connections as Derek continues speaking. Amelia Shepherd, a performer… It seems oddly fitting.
"So for the past few years before coming here, our Amy has been spending her school breaks touring the country with the Bad Ideas-"
"And Mexico!" One of the bandmates shouts back.
"Right, and Mexico. So I'm incredibly honored to have all our friends and family here tonight, celebrating Amy's birthday with a once in a lifetime reunion performance by the Bad Ideas. Give it up to my sister."
Again, the crowd breaks out in cheers, and Arizona is clapping too because she really has no idea what's happening right now and it may be best to just go along with it. Luckily, Amelia seems to be just as flabbergasted as she is. That's a small comfort.
"Oh, god," Amelia starts into the microphone, "I really cannot believe this." She's blushing and smiling widely and looking around at her bandmates again and again as if to make sure this is real. It's real, and adorable, if Arizona may add. "Well, thank you so very much everyone for setting this up and for coming here and for allowing me a final chance to fantasize about being a rockstar. Our band started off as a bit of a joke, with a joke of a song born out of pure hatred for someone. I'm pretty sure that's the origin story of any good band. Most of you probably don't know any of the lyrics we've written over the years, but we're very much accustomed to being an unknown band. So catch the lyrics on the screen behind us and enjoy."
It's wild to see Amelia jumping right into the thick of it, feeling so natural in a setting that is not the hospital, but Arizona guesses she should have realized by now Amelia Shepherd is a force to be reckoned with anywhere.
As the first song begins, the crowd breaks into laughter, and it takes Arizona a second to catch the lyrics because she had been too focused on staring at Amelia's perfect face.
You get on my nerves
You're so fuckin' annoying, you could poison poison
You're the worst person on Earth
It's funny, Amelia's funny. It would have continued being funny if it weren't for the fact Arizona is almost certain, about 94% certain, that Amelia is looking directly at Callie as she sings. Towards the end of the song, she even gets the crowd to join in on the parts being highlighted on the screen, walking cavalierly across the stage.
You're the worst ("what?") bitch on the Earth ("huh?")
I hate you and your guts
I think you should shut the fuck up and ("what?") die (a slice throat gesture, not very life-saving of her)
You (she laughs, she has the audacity to laugh) get on my nerves
Fuck you, you dumb bitch
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you
Gorge?
Well that just sent the certainty meter up to 100%.
"Oh, god, I love this song. I missed this." Amelia laughs into the mic, walking over to embrace the guitarist. Arizona chances a quick look at Callie, who's either oblivious to the undertones of what's happening, or is a very good actress. "This next song is about how relieving it can be to finally let someone go." Was Amelia looking at her now?
I feel so much lighter like a feather with you off my mind
Floating through the memories like whatever, you're a waste of time
Your signals are mixed, you act like a bitch
You fit every stereotype, "Send a pic"
I feel so much lighter like a feather with you out my life
With you out my life
There's a little dance that goes with it, and Amelia looks so effervescent as she twirls around the stage, smiling and rolling her eyes in joy, and sending pointed glares Arizona's way as she sings about feeling like a feather now that she's gotten rid of her. Arizona, on the other hand, feels like a ton of bricks has just hit her. She's not an idiot, she knows this isn't originally about her, having been written years prior. But those sharp Shepherd eyes never could lie.
Unfortunately for Arizona's increasingly fragile psyche, Amelia picks up a – get this – electric bass, while she rattles off about writing a song to her British boyfriend who she fell madly in love with for all three months of her exchange program in London and then never spoke to again. It's a funny story and she tells it charmingly, and Arizona really does try to concentrate and school her features, but as she notices Amelia's fingers start caressing and fiddling with the bass's strings there's an honest to god butterfly in her belly. Anatomically, there surely isn't anything there, but it might be best to get it tested nonetheless.
And he laughs at all my jokes
And he says I'm so American
Oh, God, it's just not fair of him
To make me feel this much
I'd go anywhere he goes
And he says I'm so American
Oh, God, I'm gonna marry him
If he keeps this shit up
I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love
Arizona can get it. She gets it really well. That feeling of unfairness. She feels it now, as Amelia stands there on stage and sings beautifully and strums her electric bass and grins with the infatuation that the song's lyrics suggest. She seems to be in utter bliss, so Arizona gets it. It's unfair to feel like someone has taken all the air from your lungs. This evening is imposing a lot of medical conditions on the pediatric surgeon.
Without pause, as soon as the song finishes Amelia switches her electric bass for an electric guitar. And Arizona guesses that, sure, this might as well happen. There's nothing stopping this emotional free-fall from occurring.
'Cause now, it don't mean a thing
God, love's fuckin' embarrassing
Just watch as I crucify myself
For some weird second string
Loser who's not worth mentioning
My God, love's embarrassing as hell
Amelia Shepherd is absolutely right. It's embarrassing for a 35-year-old world renowned surgeon at one of the country's leading hospitals to be looking slack jawed at a twenty-something intern bopping around on a makeshift stage at their local bar. But here we are. Embracing the embarrassment and rolling with the punches.
"This next one," Amelia breathes into the microphone as one of her bandmates helps her get the guitar off (thank god), "is a song my siblings really hate. But I think you'll like it. Join in for the highlighted bits."
Her smirk is all but virally infectious, and Arizona finds herself mimicking it as Amelia starts singing about a red wine supernova that's having her choked up. That's why Arizona almost misses the fact Amelia changes the lyrics.
I like (I like) what you like (what you like)
Long hair (no bra) that's my type (that's right)
You just told me, want me to fuck you
Baby, I will 'cause I really want to
Thanks to the bartender who's helping ensure their lyrics will be up and running on screen all night (god bless you Steve, you'll be well tipped from now on) Arizona notices Amelia changing the words 'long hair' to 'blonde hair.' It's almost imperceptible, but Amelia's emphasis on that B really drives the point home. It must be getting very hot in the room, a sudden December heat that's common to the Seattle region, otherwise there's no reason for Arizona's flushed cheeks as she listens to Amelia singing about what absolutely sounds like a sexual encounter with a woman. Callie's hand on her thigh is not helping matters in the least, as her mind keep replaying the bits where Amelia sings the word 'fuck.'
With the help of some unknown god (has Arizona become religious overnight?), the song finishes before she can embarrass herself any further. Amelia says something about switching to a more serious tone, which is perfectly fine by Arizona, preferred, even, given the contents of the recent few songs.
The new mood and song does, however, give her a chance to truly appreciate Amelia's vocal range and her ability as a lyricist. It's heartbreaking, and it's beautiful, and Arizona cannot possibly take her eyes off as Amelia sings with the pain of someone who's lived through every single line of the song.
You call me again, drunk in your Benz
Driving home under the influence
You scared me to death, but I'm wasting my breath
'Cause you only listen to your fucking friends
I don't relate to you
I don't relate to you, no
'Cause I'd never treat me this shitty
You made me hate this city
She's suddenly remembering something Amelia once mumbled in her sleep, a furrow between her brows as she got angry with someone for 'using again' and for 'driving around New York like a madman.' At the time Arizona shushed her, planted a soft kiss on her forehead and the anger seemed to go away. Now, as Amelia sings, Arizona and seemingly the entire room are silent, absorbed in the naked hurt she's exhibiting. She barely opened her eyes the entire song, and when she did she kept looking up, as if to someone who's no longer around. Her voice tears at Arizona's heartstrings and she cannot for the love of her return Callie's squeeze of her hand. She takes it away and folds her arms around herself, bracing for whatever Amelia has next in store.
Silently, Amelia moves across the stage while the crowd still cheers, and takes the seat of her pianist. Arizona guesses this is only a logical continuation for the evening, another fucking instrument for Amelia to play, as if her own mental facilities weren't enough.
Continuing with the atmosphere of the previous song, Amelia sings about someone who had sucked the life out of her. It can either be the person from the previous one, or a different person, it doesn't matter much. Amelia's fingers expertly stroke the keys while she bleeds her soul into the microphone.
What a mesmerizing, paralyzing, fucked-up little thrill
Can't figure out just how you do it, and God knows I never will
Arizona can relate. She has absolutely no clue how Amelia does what she does to her. It's a thrill she has never experienced before, is all she knows, and she's becoming increasingly frustrated by the thought she may become one of the mistakes Amelia keeps singing about.
"Alright, alright," Amelia finishes the song with a shake of her head and a small laugh, "let's go back to singing some upbeat songs my siblings absolutely hate." Taking the main microphone and setting its stand aside, Amelia begins swaying on stage, giving Arizona a minor stroke as her hips move from side to side while she starts singing about what can only be interpreted as sex. Dirty, heterosexual, dirty sex. Arizona is feeling decidedly homicidal.
She might have even taken herself up on those feelings had Amelia not looked directly at her while swaying and singing the chorus.
I'll be honest
Lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense
Cartwheels in my stomach when you walk in
And when you got your arms around me
Ooh, it feels so good I had to jump the octave
I think I got an ex but I forgot him
And I can't find my chill, I must have lost it
I don't even know I'm talkin' nonsense
Arizona may start talking nonsense too if Amelia Shepherd doesn't stop grinding with her band members and shaking her tiny round ass and asking how quickly you can take your clothes off. Lightning quick, is Arizona's answer, in case anyone at all was wondering. And Arizona would further like whichever transcriber or notetaker up there in the sky to let the record show that she is not insane, that she is not imagining this. That she knows well enough by now what it feels like to have Amelia Shepherd's eyes locked on her, and for that very reason she is convinced Amelia is currently doing everything in her power to torture her. Worst of all, it's working.
For the next song, one of her band members sets up two bar stools and another mic on stage, sitting down next to Amelia.
"So as many of you know," she starts with a smile, and turns to look adoringly at the table where her biological and surrogate family all sit together, "my amazing family is composed of brilliant talented doctors who have spent my entire childhood tormenting me with their success…" The crowd breaks down in laughter, and Amelia laughs too, and Arizona's heart sings. "And one day I was so absolutely frustrated with them, and my friend Tommy here was so absolutely frustrated with his own successful family, that we decided to write a diss track about them. So this will be the only time any of you are going to hear me try to rap, so brace yourselves for this."
The song is catchy, and funny, and Amelia looks so happy sitting on that stage with her friend as they sing about people not rooting for them, and for nevertheless knowing they're gonna make it despite being industry babies. The rapping part is what really catches Arizona's attention.
It's too late 'cause I'm here to stay
And these girls know that I'm nasty
I sent her back to her boyfriend
With my handprint on her ass cheek
The bastard does it. She fucking looks directly into Arizona's eyes as she sits on that stage and physically mimics slapping some girl's ass. This cannot possibly be happening.
Wish he could but he can't get close
OG so proud of me that he chokin' up while he makin' toasts
I'm the type that you can't control
Said I would then I made it so
Amelia looks at her family while singing this part, most notably at Derek, and the comedy of it is a good respite from the fact that Amelia's also mimicking choking herself and Arizona would very much like to do exactly that, thank you so much.
As the song comes to a close, Tommy clear up the stage, and the band's women all join Amelia.
"So, now's the saddest part of the show typically, but since I'm not the biggest fan of speaking emotions out loud to strangers, I tend to write my saddest songs in French. The translated lyrics will be on the screen for those of you who weren't forced to learn it for ten years instead of playing field hockey like you wanted to."
The crowd laughs but immediately grows quiet as the girls begin to sing in beautiful acapella. Arizona reminds herself that languages are not sexy, there is nothing inherently sexy about languages, certainly not about French which is the language of love, so she should just get a hold of herself and fucking breathe already.
Amelia's voice is so tender, and heartbreaking, and the pain is evident on her beautiful features as she sings about going through a hell, dealing with suicidal thoughts.
J'ai parfois eu des pensées suicidaires
Et j'en suis peu fier
On croit parfois que c'est la seule manière
de les faire taire
Ces pensées qui me font vivre un enfer
Ces pensées qui me font vivre un enfer
If it weren't for the dozens of people in the room right now, Arizona sincerely thinks she would have run up to that stage and gathered Amelia Shepherd in her arms and not let her go until she was confident beyond doubt that Amelia would never ever hurt herself. That nobody else would, either.
The crowd is seemingly too stunned to speak or do anything when the song ends, so Amelia silently moves back to the piano set up for her. Listening and watching her wrap her mouth around the difficult French syllables is a song of its own, enticing and captivating. Only once, Arizona chances looking to the screen for the translated lyrics.
Voilà, voilà, voilà, voilà qui je suis
Me voilà, même si mise à nu, c'est fini
C'est ma gueule, c'est mon cri, me voilà tant pis
Voilà, voilà, voilà, voilà juste ici
Moi, mon rêve, mon envie, comme j'en crève, comme j'en ris
Me voilà dans le bruit et dans le silence
She's showing herself bare to the world, to this room, to Arizona. It's a sight she intends to treasure forever, whatever happens. 'Here I am,' Amelia sings, tortured into presenting her honest self. It's a sheer privilege to witness it.
With a labored breath once the song ends into an uproar from the crowd, Amelia bashfully sheds a tear and returns to center stage.
"Alright, alright, enough with that." She laughs, and Arizona would have laughed too if she could bring herself to do anything but stare. "Let's finish this off on a high note, okay? These last couple of songs are fun so please let's remember to just fucking enjoy."
So it shall be done. Amelia starts singing again and the crowd even joins in at the parts marked on the screen, like yelling "for once!" when she says that she woke up in a good mood, or shouting back to her "you do too much!" It brings a laugh into her voice, intermingling smoothly with the song's vengeful lyrics.
After too many songs without direct eye contact, Amelia finally looks intently at Arizona again.
I get so sick of myself, can't stop overthinking
I heard you're happy somewhere else
But I don't forget too well
Arizona can't forget either, and she doesn't even know if she wants to. What's a better reality to live in? One where she had shared a few months chasing Amelia into on-call rooms and holding her while she slept, or one where they never shared such intimacy? The answer seems abundantly clear when she thinks about it a moment longer.
"This last one goes out as a goodbye to my early twenties, but more than anything, it's a wake up call that we should all do whatever the hell we feel like." Amelia smirks as she straps on an electric guitar.
Arizona thinks that her previous stroke was a false-positive, but this one is the real deal. Because Amelia sings about her brain going 'ahhhh' while looking at the other person, and she looks directly at Arizona before rolling her eyes into her head and feeling herself up. So, yes, medically speaking, Arizona's brain is going ahhhh as well.
Amelia seems to be cutting to the chase quickly.
Seeing you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?
Yes it is.
Seeing you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?
Getting better by the second.
Seeing you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?
Not as bad as one might think.
Seeing you tonight…
Fuck it, it's fine
You are absolutely right, Amelia Shepherd.
This was a rush. A head-spinning, tummy-fluttering, knee-buckling rush she has not felt since they last performed together. Amelia can physically feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she makes her way to the bathroom after the show, having spent some long minutes embracing her band members and thanking her family again and again for making this happen. She's beyond thrilled about becoming a neurosurgeon, but this was a last-hoorah that she needed far more than she had realized. And at any rate, it's always good to get the opportunity to make Arizona Robbins squirm in her seat.
Amelia would like to have it known that she is not a tease nor a shit-stirrer. That she is not trying to cause anybody trouble, or to make anyone unnecessarily uncomfortable with her music, or to incite problems between dating couples. She wishes for it to be agreed upon that if she chose a very specific set of songs from her band's repertoire, that's her business and hers alone, and shouldn't be scrutinized too closely. That if she sent some pointed looks and may have over-accentuated the sway of her hips or the roll of her eyes in the direction of a certain blonde doctor, then it's her prerogative as a performer, as an artist.
Looking at her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes in the mirror, Amelia chuckles at her reflection.
"Yeah, right." She shakes her head and looks down at her hands while she washes them, which seems to give just enough time and noise for someone to sneak behind her unnoticed.
"It's not fair." The voice says, and Amelia lifts her head to catch Arizona Robbins's eyes in the mirror.
"What isn't?" She asks as calmly as possible, wiping her hands mostly to hide their trembling.
"I think it's not very fair of you to do this."
"Do what, exactly?" She asks with less patience than she had a moment ago, turning to meet Arizona head on.
"I was perfectly fine, you know?" Arizona starts, taking a slight step towards her, which Amelia might have even missed if the bathroom wasn't quite small already. "I stuck to the plan, I was professional. I started dating Callie, the woman who wants me and says it loud and clear, and I'm having a great time with her. I even brought her here tonight!"
"I saw," is all Amelia can say, pursing her lips in the way her siblings hate she does because they say it makes her look pissed and condescending all at once.
"So I think it is very much unfair that you put on this outfit, and this makeup, and this fucking show, and you play seventeen instruments and sing in five languages-"
"That's a bit of an exaggeration," Amelia cuts her off, but can't help but smirk at Arizona's angry compliments. Arizona doesn't seem to even pay attention though.
"-and you're a fucking rockstar, as if your predisposition to surgery wasn't fucking enough, now you had to go and be a beautiful rockstar, and I think it's un-fucking-fair." She's very adorable when she's ranting, and very hot when she's cussing like a sailor.
"What do you do when things are unfair, Robbins?" Amelia raises her brow and the stakes.
"I wipe the smug look off your face."
Well alright then, this is as good as any other route towards finding Arizona Robbins's lips glued to her own. You will never, ever, and this is a promise, ever find Amelia apologizing for making Arizona Robbins so upset that she finally kissed her. And what a kiss, god damnit.
Arizona first takes hold of her face and brings them smack together, basically attacking Amelia's lips with her own. Just like everything else about Arizona, her lips are soft and supple, and their tenderness is only betrayed by the rough hands she trails into Amelia's hair. Sighing into her mouth with utter joy, Amelia opens up, inviting Arizona's warm tongue to caress and duel hers, giving as much as she's taking. She moves them back so Arizona would be pressed against the wall, giving her better vantage into the blonde woman's mouth. She would very much be okay with dying right this second, tangled in a filthy kiss with this sunshine of a woman.
Her leverage doesn't last long, though, because Arizona flips them over and in the next second grabs hold onto Amelia's thighs in the internationally recognized signal for jump. And jump Amelia does,wrapping her legs around Arizona's hips and bringing her hands to the other's jaw as they battle for dominance.
"You're such a fucking brat," Arizona sighs with a smile against her lips, not even giving her the chance to respond before attacking her anew. There's a hellfire burning at Amelia's core and she has a very good suggestion for a way in which Arizona can extinguish it.
Arizona starts trailing her lips down Amelia's neck, raising goosebumps on her flesh as she moves aside the jumpsuit's high collar to place scorching kisses then suck.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, you're so hot," Amelia blabbers, losing any logical coherent thought as Arizona's lips unravel her.
But just as Arizona is about to respond, hopefully by obeying the command, the cruel universe (the crowd out at the bar) starts shouting for an encore.
The two stare at each other for a long moment, trying to regain consciousness or a semblance of put-togetherness.
"Go," Arizona finally says, "this is your night."
Amelia finds herself nodding, sliding off of Arizona and walking over to the mirror on shaky legs.
"You should just take these out," Arizona says, pointing towards the bobby pins which are no longer doing a good enough job at holding Amelia's hair up. She looks ravaged. So she does as ordered, and brushes her fingers a couple of times through her locks to make it at least seem intentional. As Amelia sends a final glance back towards Arizona, the blonde adds, "I'll take a minute then be right behind you."
Returning to the main room of the bar feels like an ice-cold shower, and Amelia walks back towards the stage hoping nobody is paying attention to the fact the lipstick Jo had so deftly applied for her is now obliterated, along with the stylish half-updo she had going on. Grabbing her electric bass, she signals to her band what the final two songs of the show will be and she's already preparing herself for the thrill that's going to come from staring Arizona straight in the eye as she sings them.
When the blonde surgeon sits back at her table near Callie, who seems to be asking her if everything's alright (presumably given the length of time she was away, and the still apparent flush of her cheeks) Amelia starts strumming her bass to the opening chords of a song that's about her queer awakening. Sure, at the time she thought it's merely a song about her jealousy towards a boyfriend's ex, but upon further reflection some years later she recognized she may have been slightly too invested in her boyfriend's ex girlfriend. The song's title is then only fitting.
I'm so obsessed with your ex
I know she's been asleep on my side in your bed
And I can feel it
I'm starin' at her like I wanna get hurt
And I remember every detail you have ever told me
So be careful, baby
And while she won't admit it, yes, it does give Amelia a thrill to look directly at Arizona and sing about an ex. Get it, Arizona? Break this fucking thing off and come to me.
For the final song, Amelia takes off the strap of the bass and sets it down, wanting to be unencumbered by anything. She's about to sing a song she had written so recently that she and her band had only gotten the chance to perform it a couple of times. It's a song she wrote to herself, about herself, ridiculing her own stupidity for not understanding sooner that some of those feelings she had carried around throughout her life – those I'm not like everybody else feelings – were a product of her attraction to more than just boys. She could kiss a thousand of them in bars, and none of it would make these feelings just go away, try as she might.
And so she looks directly at Arizona Robbins as she sings the most important part of the song, again and again, because it's the essence of everything that's stirring up in her right now. Everything that's been running through her mind and making her heart beat erratically these past months.
You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling
You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling
You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling
You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling
Good luck, babe.