The Village

Callie is injured and taken to Grey Sloan for treatment. The event causes her & Arizona to process their relationship and what it means going forward. Actions are determined by emotions, events and your village. Set two years after the divorce, no custody battle.

A/N - Hi all, this is my first delve into Fan Fiction and I'm always Callie & Arizona end game. This is set around Season 14, two years after the divorce. There was no custody battle, Callie never left Grey Sloan. All characters don't fit into the real Grey's timeline, but that's the beauty of fiction, I get to include the ones I like and excuse myself for any errors. We're all here for the love of our girls, I really hope you enjoy the ride.

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Why is my temple throbbing? Why am I'm straining to look forward? All I can see are furniture legs and lower cabinets through some sort of darkened haze. What the… am I on the floor!? No I can't be, a chair maybe, but it's a low chair if so. No, I'm clearly on the floor for whatever reason. Time to get up.

Callie attempted to grab onto something to pull herself up, the kitchen counter seemed slightly out of reach but it was worth a go. OUCH. THERE. A shooting pain. A pain so sharp and instant that it momentarily paralysed her, she fell to the ground in agony clutching her sides.

What the hell…?! What's happened?! What was that pain? Why can't I pull myself up? Oh my GOD WHERE IS SOFIA?!

"SOF-"

It hit again, the sharp pain. Callie was incapacitated physically and verbally; she needed to stay laid, supported on the ground. But she couldn't, because she's a mother and her priority is her mini-me, the extension of herself, the one she would protect at all cost. With a mixture of wincing, silent screams and hisses through clenched eyes, she made a second attempt to get up. It's painful and disorientating but by making a slight lunge upwards, she managed to grab hold of one of the kitchen stools. Victory. She slowly pulled herself up, steadying the chair against the kitchen top so it stayed in place and supported her weight.

She was up, dizzy and unsteady but finding her daughter was the priority. She attempted again, "SOFIA!" It's louder but weaker, she knew it's about volume rather than conviction, she needed to know where her baby was. When she was finally up she managed to scan the room several times but her child was nowhere to be seen.

Why can't I see her? Why isn't she responding? Why am I on the floor? Why am I in such pain? Unless…

She turned to the door in an instant, it was shut. Whilst not a certain declaration she hadn't been victim to a home invasion, the fact her phone was on the side next to her, the TV was still in place and she's still wearing some jewellery, it gave her some reassurance. Maybe Sofia was just in the bathroom. Or she had her headphones on, or maybe deep in conversation with Zola or Arizona. One thing's for sure, she was certain she couldn't move, not without stumbling.

What the HELL happened?! Think Torres, you're a badass surgeon, (recently) double board-certified, Harper Avery winner and you mastered how to set up your new TV in minutes, you're a god(dess).

She reached for her phone, wincing again.

Why does it hurt so much to move?! Did I slip on something, crash into a cabinet, crawl to the kitchen and collapse? No, that's absurd. What would I have slipped on anyw… TORRES. FOCUS. Sofia.

She unlocked her phone but was forced to use the PIN, face recognition didn't work. At least she remembered it, small mercies. The screen that appeared was a text from Meredith, with the one she sent visible if you scrolled up slightly. The fact it was open was a good indication the messages were fairly recent.

Callie: Thanks Mer, Sofia loves a sleepover at yours with Zola, are you okay to pick her up after school? Arizona is in surgery and I'm expecting Simon soon, but can delay if needed

Meredith: No that's fine, I've just picked them up and they're in Zola's room setting up a fort. See you tomorrow, good luck with Simon!

Okay good, Sofia is safe at Grey's, my main concern is sorted, now how the hell did I end up on the kitchen floor in so much pai-

Then it hit. Hit hard. They say PTSD lays under the surface and it only takes one, potentially inconspicuous event, to trigger. It's the same for a memory, a recent memory, one you didn't know you had. Simon. Words flashed but coherent sentences were not forming.

Simon. Dinner. Arizona. Sofia. Veterans.

Anger. True, true anger. Pain. Gut. Face. Floor.

He had beaten her. The accountant had beaten the surgeon. Beaten so hard she had clearly lost consciousness.

No no no no… NO! I'm Callie Torres, I don't get into abusive relationships, I don't put up with crap, I don't put my daughter at risk. You know this Torres.

But the memories were there, somewhere. She needed to get a better look at herself and by now the adrenaline had taken over and she felt no pain, only determination. She took a deep breath (and winced, turns out there was still some pain) and made the short walk to her bedroom, her floor to ceiling mirrors would surely answer some of her questions.

Callie made it with only a stumble or two and turned on the light. She walked forward to the mirror and saw a reflection of someone else. Hair knotted, swollen eye, dried blood on their lips, shirt slightly torn and face white as a ghost. Who was this person? After a short time it sank in; she was staring at a beaten version of herself. She had been attacked and her hazy memory suggested Simon had done it, the guy she had kinda been seeing, but with no real commitment. She couldn't remember specific details right now, that would have to wait.

She needed help. Part of her wanted to clean up, shower and change but knew she had to follow the correct process. Callie Torries didn't hide, skip steps or withdraw into herself. After seeing the damage to her face, she started to think, the continued wincing at every movement was down to broken or cracked ribs, she was sure of it. Was she KICKED when she was down?

Phone. Meredith. Help. Hospital. Get it DONE Torres.

She struggled her way back to the kitchen, unlocked the phone and tapped on Meredith's name; still up from earlier. She didn't clock the time at that moment or that of the messages, but she hoped her friend was still near her phone to hear it. Four rings and it was answered, pretty good.

"Hey Callie, what's up?"

"Mer… I need you… been beaten… can you… you come… get me?"

Not a second thought. "I'm on my way."

The phone clicked off; Meredith didn't hesitate. Callie knew her friend would be round quicker than a flash, only one other person may have got there sooner but you know, surgery.

Callie couldn't quite perch herself onto a stool but she could semi stand up straight by holding onto the kitchen counter. Her phone was in front of her and Meredith would be able to locate her keys, a coat etc. She just needed to stay upright and not panic or pass out.

She waited for what seemed like hours before she heard a key in the door. All village members had spare keys, it's what you did at Grey Sloan. Meredith entered, looked at her friend and her face fell.

"Oh Callie…"