"Hey," she calls out to her, as though she hasn't been paying attention this whole time.
It would be partly true, she thinks, but mostly a lie, because she has been paying attention to her. She's been listening to the light sound of her breathing, only disturbed by the sporadic grunts of annoyance she makes every so often, which Amelia has determined to be habits of frustration. She listens to the huffs, and deep sighs, and, if it gets quiet enough, even the licking of her lips. She can hear it in the comfortable silence of their hideout. She's grown used to it, and she likes it. It's peaceful; comforting.
It's Arizona.
"What?" Amelia replies, but her eyes are still peering into the nearly-finished pint of ice cream she's been consuming for the past twenty minutes.
Amelia hears another grunt from the blonde accompanied with the creaking of her chair as she leans back against it, the work in front of her quickly forgotten. She seems to always be displeased when, during rare moments, Amelia doesn't give her the full attention she seems to ask for. "That's no good for you, you know," she continues pointedly.
Spoon in mouth, Amelia looks up from her cup and into tired, bright blue eyes. "I know," she grins, and Arizona frowns when she reaches out and offers the cup to her. "Want some?" She says it playfully - and it always comes out before she's aware of it. She could be less playful, she thinks, but it seems to become habit. She can't shake the feeling of wanting to tease this woman, of wanting to comfort her in some inexplicable way.
She reminds her of herself, just a little bit. Maybe it's because she's always with her. Or maybe it's the perpetual emptiness that seems to haunt her.
She should change her tone, she thinks. Be more serious. Arizona seems serious.
She is surprised when Arizona grins slyly back, says yes, and takes the cup from her. Amelia widens her eyes, but doesn't have a chance to say anything before Arizona takes the spoon, and slips it out of her mouth and into her own. "Mine now," the blonde triumphantly declares.
"That's gross," Amelia claims. "I had another spoon."
Arizona looks into the cup, her voice dismissive as she asks, "Were you planning on sharing?"
"Well, I have another pint," she explains.
"Seriously?" Arizona asks, her eyes on Amelia again. "That's so bad. All you've been eating is ice cream," she notices. "Herman gets these, too."
"The flavors are so weird," Amelia claims, "So I want to try them all."
"Binge eating is not attractive," the blonde retorts, slipping the spoon into her mouth, and there's more to the simple claim than her voice reveals. It's shown in her eyes, the way they dim, the way her dimples fall only slightly. It could be a simple phrase, it could be a simple statement or a gesture that then becomes a reminder of a time so long ago. She says nothing to indicate sadness, but it shows in her voice, in the way her face changes expression. And Amelia sees this.
Simplicity seems to remind her of things that have long ago died, Amelia notices.
"I haven't had sex in a long time," she blurts out.
"What?" Arizona asks, her eyes surprised as they fall on Amelia's.
"I dunno," the neurosurgeon shrugs, "I haven't had sex. I don't have sex. So I don't have to worry about ice cream consumption. It's all good." She winks and repeats herself, It's all good, slumping back into her chair as she watches Arizona, who only watches her with wide, curious eyes that are suddenly very bright again.
Arizona laughs and slips the spoon back into her mouth, savoring the taste. Saying nothing, but only watching.
"Have you?" Amelia asks, interrupting the quiet, but only because the silence of the room and the intensity of the blonde's stare is unnerving and suddenly makes her want to know.
"What?" Arizona asks, her eyes still fixed on Amelia's. It's too intent, she thinks, too much, so she looks away reflexively, settling for staring at the computer's screen instead. Hazel eyes draw away as blue eyes follow them. "What?" she asks again, titling her head.
Amelia's eyes draw back to her. "Had sex," she says. "I mean, since Callie," she adds, wondering if it's okay to mention that.
But Arizona's expression doesn't change, rather, her eyes seem to grow more curious. More bright. Sly.
And somehow flirtatious.
"No."
He is nice.
His smile is wide, and the light wrinkles on his face rise when his lips stretch out and into a smile. His eyes are bright too, she thinks. Steely, though somehow appealing. They have a dignified glow.
Their lunches are light. He's hardly ever around the cafeteria. Recently, he's been texting her to join him as though she is his only excuse to go anywhere.
They don't settle for drinks after work as he's aware of her situation, though once they shared a small dinner together in a quiet restaurant across town.
She's been flirty with him. This is how she lets it out. It's filling, this interaction. It allows her to blow off the steam, to talk about her experiences and situation to someone who is not a part of it, but a part of something else. It eases the strong, unsettling feelings she gets when she's around Arizona. She lets these complicated feelings out through flirtation.
And it's easy to flirt with him. The bewildered look on his face is enough to make her continue.
Plus, he's nice.
Not too complicated. Though he's got that darkness.
But everyone has it, she thinks. Briefly, bight blue eyes come to mind.
He smiles, scratches his chin. He's recently shaved, she notices.
She likes talking with him. He gets it.
"I understand that. Back when I served…" and he trails off. She is interested. He is appealing. Nice.
But then she's distracted by a whisk of blonde hair that catches her eye in the midst of his intense story. She meets her eyes for a second. Arizona smiles and stops, lifts her hand to wave. It's the look Amelia gives her that makes her turn away so suddenly.
It's that look, Amelia can tell. Because she knows it, too. That look, it's like she is invading.
Interrupting something too intimate.
So Arizona walks away.
She doesn't go looking for her. Instead, she goes to surgery. She is swamped with them, and hasn't seen Arizona since. She's beginning to talk to Meredith again, who, more than once has inquired of her relationship to Arizona. She laughs and dismisses it. And then Meredith asks about Owen.
There is passing tension that arises when Callie enters the OR. Meredith and Callie speak to each other like the oldest of friends. Amelia says nothing, but she is surprised when Callie mentions a woman from last night.
A one-night stand.
Her hands don't fail her, though, and she can feel Callie's gaze on her. It's not triumphant, or curious, or intent; it's simply worried.
A worried, watchful gaze.
And then she asks about Owen, too. And again, Amelia laughs.
Later, she talks to him some more. She finds her hands trembling.
Callie asked him about Amelia, too.
"So," he asks, "Dinner tonight?"
"Not tonight."
By the end of the night, she is tired and drowsy, and a little more than annoyed when she finds the door to her own office locked. She flashes her ID card and enters, and sees another whisk of blonde hair as Arizona jumps from her seat and turns around, trying to look busy.
She's not very subtle, Amelia thinks.
Her shoulders are shaking, and her usual fluttery blonde hair seems to settle pathetically on her shoulders. Her back is stern; she is trying for a dignified pose. But it seems weak.
Hurt.
Sad.
"Callie slept with someone else," Arizona says, not turning to her. She doesn't move from the door, though she wants to see her face. She wants to see her eyes, she wants to brighten them. She wants to fix it.
"And I'm mad, I'm mad," she rambles. "I'm so mad, I-" Arizona shakes, "And I shouldn't have a reason to be."
"You should," Amelia justifies. "You have a reason to be," she continues, though she hasn't talked to Arizona about her marriage at all.
The blonde only laughs weakly, her shoulders slumping lower.
"Aren't you going to fix your marriage?" Amelia asks.
"My marriage is over."
Fix it, she is tempted to say. But she knows she won't mean it.
Instead, she asks, "Do you want to have dinner?"
"No."
"Get a drink?"
Arizona laughs, but there is no effort behind it. She knows Amelia can't have drinks. "Amelia."
"Talk about it."
"Can you leave me alone?" she asks. "Please?"
"Right."
So she stands there and stares at her back, saying nothing, but only watching.
Later that night, she knocks on the door of her brother's trailer. Owen opens it, clad in a towel, and she pulls his wet neck towards her and kisses him hard.
And when the door slams shut behind them, she feels a hard thumping in her chest and lets the emptiness in her heart be filled, if only momentarily.
She closes her eyes. The growing stubble of his chin scratches her mouth.
She wants to be sly, she wants to be flirty, she wants it all.
She wants to fix it all, but she doesn't know how.
And when it's all over, before she falls asleep, she finds herself staring at the roof of her brother's trailer, wondering how she got here.
She hears Owen's breathing. It's heavy and pleased and uninterrupted.
It's all over now, and she feels empty again. She wants to check her phone, wants to go over to Alex's and barge into Arizona's room. Anything but stay still in this bed, alone with her thoughts. She wants to do something again. She wants to feel filled again.
So she shuts her eyes and dreams of those bright blue ones.
Curious. Bright. Flirtatious.
Sad.