She thought it would have been different, namely because Herman seemed so collected before. But then Arizona showed her the scan, starting to speak in a soft voice, confessing what has been bothering her for the past several weeks.

It's relieving to confess, she thinks. She still believes it. Though now her mentor looks at her with resentful eyes, she still believes that what she is doing is right.

Above all, she is a doctor.

"Listen-"

"No," she refuses. "You went against my orders. My orders."

"Doctor Herman."

"This is my problem," Herman interjects. "My problem."

She is unsettled. Herman has always unsettled her, but this time, the woman is truly infuriated.

The door opens, and Arizona briefly thinks that she shouldn't have probably told her in the lounge as she hears a familiar voice quickly murmur Hey, I before Herman swipes her hand across the table, sending coffee mugs, papers, and surgical plans onto the floor with a loud crash. Arizona follows Herman's gaze to the door, where she watches Callie staring at the scene with wide eyes.

Despite her ex-wife walking in at quite possibly the worst moment, she quickly turns her attention back to Doctor Herman.

"Doctor Herman, if you would just listen to Doctor Shep-"

"No!" she yells. "You are supposed to do everything I say!"

"You just-" Arizona tries to say, but she can see Herman's eyes narrow at her as she slowly collects herself, straightening her lab coat before turning her attention quickly back to Callie.

"Robbins, clean this up and come see me immediately," she says, turning her back on the pediatric surgeon. Callie moves aside as she swiftly passes by her without looking back.

Arizona sighs and bends down to pick up the surgical plan, closing the journal carefully. She tries to clean up the mess despite Callie's eyes on her.

"And you're actually going to clean it up."

"Who else will?" Arizona retorts, without looking up.

Arizona feels Callie waiting for more, but when the blonde says nothing, she asks, "What the hell was that about?"

Arizona stands now, and deliberately avoids her eyes. She can feel Callie's gaze on her - that intense, inquisitive gaze that has never once failed to leave her nervous. Arizona is not a good liar.

"Nothing," she lies.

"Arizona-" Callie warns. But Arizona doesn't respond to her warning tone, so Callie continues, "She shouldn't be talking to you like that. Or doing things like that!" She puts emphasis on the last few words as she points at the scattered mess on the floor.

"She's allowed to," Arizona reasons, justifying Herman's behavior in her mind.

"No, she's not!" Callie refutes in a loud voice. "That is not how a fellow should be treated and you know it."

"Callie, it's my problem, not yours."

Callie scoffs in disbelief at her dismissive tone. "What the hell is going on with you, Arizona?"

"Callie-" Arizona warns.

"Look at me," she demands.

"Cal-"

"Look at me!"

She turns her gaze to look at Callie, finally, but like a whiplash of relief, she is distracted by the woman standing at the door.

"Amelia?"

Amelia stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the doorway, as if she had been there the entire time. As if she swooped in like a guardian. Callie turns to watch her too, but Amelia only stares at Arizona, her eyes steady and unwavering. And it does something to her, that stare. It makes her stronger, it makes her confident. It doesn't make her crumble under someone else's gaze.

This look that Amelia gives her is of a different kind. Separate from desire. Separate from what she has now determined to be lust. It's different. It's relieving. Protective. Challenging and confident.

"You ready?" Amelia asks.

Arizona smiles, "Yeah."

Amelia glances at Callie before nodding at Arizona, returning a smile that is just as soft, sweet, and comforting as her own. "I'm going to see her now. I'll be waiting for you."

Arizona nods again before she turns to leave, and Arizona immediately turns to the corner of the room and reaches for the broom. Callie still stands waiting while she quickly sweeps up the mess into the corner. Luckily, she thinks, Herman finished her coffee before she tossed the mug.

Callie laughs, displeased. "So even Amelia knows, yet you won't tell me?"

"Amy is helping me."

"Amy?"

Arizona says nothing to this, though, and places the broom back. She returns to the table and neatly stacks all the necessary papers into a pile before tucking them under her arm.

"You like her, don't you?" Callie asks. Her tone is not accusing, nor possessive. A simple inquiry, a simple discovery. Something that just wants to be known.

"It's not like-" Arizona starts, but Callie only laughs. "You do," she says, almost in disbelief. "I can tell."

"How would you know?"

"Because I know you more than anyone."

Yet that claim feels bitter, it feels too loaded. Too deep. The claim Callie makes is retrospective, almost archaic. Something that begins to lose its truthfulness. So Arizona retorts in the same way, "I feel like we never really knew each other at all."

It's combative, the way she says it. And she wants to take it back. To not dig deep into problems of the past, problems that have been let go. Problems that are now diminishing. She wants to move forward.

Yet, she throws the blow.

And Callie takes it. Her sigh is exasperated. She is searching for words.

"Look-" Arizona starts. She doesn't want to fight. She clucks her tongue, retracts her buff, and starts for the door.

"Derek's sister?" Callie asks in disbelief. "Derek's little sister?"

She doesn't want to reply. But something about Callie's incredulous tone makes her. And it's probably the way she says it. Because she doesn't know Amelia. She doesn't know.

"It's Amelia," Arizona says, pausing at the door. She hasn't looked at her until now, she hasn't really tried to look at her face. Because she knew if she looked at her, her eyes would falter. Her resolve would falter. But it won't this time. Not this time.

Something has changed, something about her has changed.

And it's something that doesn't need fixing.

She feels Callie waiting as she turns to look at her from the door. "It's Amelia," she tells her. "Amelia Shepherd."

They both flinch when Herman bangs her fist on the table, her resolve weakens and translates into physical expression. Anger. She sighs deeply, and collects herself again. She decides.

"Fine," she says.

And while Amelia only grins, the blonde is surprised at her acceptance. Surprised at her resignation. "F, fine?" Arizona asks, her eyes wide.

"You say," Herman starts, looking at Amelia. "You say you can save my life."

"I can," Amelia affirms, confidence saturated in her tone. Arizona looks at her and smiles. Amelia's confidence is beautiful, she thinks. This is what she likes about her.

"Then what have I got to lose?" Herman asks, though she is not seeking a reply. She checks her pager and looks at the two surgeons before she nods. "Just tell me what to do. Prepare, and we will have a meeting in two days' time."

Arizona and Amelia grin at each other when she leaves, and the neurosurgeon takes a seat at the computer to prepare herself. They go over the surgical plans once again.

"We'll have to find a way to get this around Owen," Amelia tells her. "I can probably take care of that," she adds, and the confidence in her statement unsettles Arizona. She could, couldn't she? Because Owen and Amelia share a bond. She wonders if he lights up the darkness in Amelia's heart the way she does with her.

"Well, yeah," Arizona agrees after a moment of silence. "And the board."

Amelia seems surprised. "You didn't tell Callie?"

"No, why would I?"

"Didn't she hear?"

"No."

"Oh," Amelia frowns. She turns her eyes away from Arizona and stares at the scan of Herman's tumor. "So what did you talk about?"

Us. You.

"Nothing," she says.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Arizona says dismissively, "So you'll take care of Owen, then?" she presses on.

Amelia frowns again and turns her gaze away, staring at the surgical plan in front of her. She begins to take notes as Arizona searches for words to say. Words to tell her. Something.

"So," she starts. But she feels unsettled, so she stands uncertainly. "No more ice cream?"

"No."

"We could share a pint again," she laughs, her voice low and sultry, her nonsensical words bearing suggestion. She doesn't even know what she is saying. She is simply searching for words. Amelia doesn't grin or laugh, though, she just smirks, and it's kind of cold, the way she does it.

"What's the matter?" Arizona asks, surprised by Amelia's unresponsiveness.

"Could you cut that out?" Amelia asks, looking up at Arizona.

"What?" she laughs.

"The flirting," the brunette explains. "It's getting tiring."

"Flirting? I'm not-"

"I know you like me," Amelia tells her. Arizona feels her face grow hot, and she opens her mouth to say something. But she pauses instead. She inhales in a quick breath, and Amelia casts her eyes back down at her surgical plan, a scowl on her face. She seems tired. Annoyed.

And immediately, Arizona wants to deny it. She is quick to deny. But she feels something settle in her chest. Maybe it's a pang, maybe it's a revelation. It feels full. Her heart feels full. Maybe it's just fatigue. She is tired of trying to be something she isn't. She is tired of denying parts of herself and her wants.

It's Amelia. Amelia Shepherd, she told Callie.

She thinks it can't hurt to say it. She's been clear enough. It might be all over. She needs to be honest.

She should be honest.

"Yeah," she says. "Fine," she continues, and Amelia looks up at her with expectant eyes. "I like you, Amelia. A lot," she explains.

This time, it's Amelia that opens her mouth to say something. It's her, this time, that inhales sharply. But she looks back down. Reluctant, Arizona notices. She can't take it back. She can't compromise. She should just do what is best for herself. So she decides.

Well, she's said it. She decidedly continues, "So I need to not be so close to you."

"What?" the neurosurgeon asks, looking back up at her. And now her eyes are bright. And something else. Something Arizona hasn't seen before. They seem vulnerable.

"I need to not be so close to you," Arizona explains. "To not do this," she says, not quite sure of what she means. She gestures at the wide space between them with her hand, "because I can't help it."

Amelia says nothing, and Arizona simply waits. She thinks she should turn to leave, that it would be best if she did, but Amelia says, "W, we can be close, still."

So this is what it feels like. For someone to say it like that. Someone other than her. Someone new and refreshing, with more confidence and less doubt. Still, but.

"No, we can't. I can't hug you or lean on your shoulder or joke around or anything like that without feeling like I'm going to explode."

"Why?"

She might as well be honest. She should just be honest. "Because I want to kiss you," she confesses. "And," and she almost says I want to have sex with you, but she doesn't.

"And… what?"

"Nothing," she says, "never mind."

"And what?" Amelia presses on.

"And I think you wouldn't stop me," Arizona says, honestly. But Amelia doesn't say anything, she just watches her with wide eyes, "Right? So I need to not be near you for a while."

Her chest feels too full now, and she needs fresh air. She needs to be away from her, to bury herself in something that's not her. She turns to leave, and Amelia calls out to her. But she doesn't get up. She doesn't reach out, she doesn't pull her arm so that she's closer, so that she won't leave.

So she leaves.

She shuts the door and feels her heart sink.

It's better this way.