A connection is not something that happens often with Arizona. Forging a bond is not based on simplicity, but only privacies that are shed to those who are lucky, or brave, or perhaps willing enough to unearth it from her. It comes unconsciously; a relationship is formed by an often inexplicable understanding that develops overtime. That's how Arizona's relationships began. That's what she knew about herself.

That's what she thought she knew. Because that's how it always was.

That's how it was with Callie. She just got her. Of course, it changed. The rules changed because she changed.

But the fact remained: some people just got her, which then led to her own pursuit of that person.

She thinks back now, and wonders if she did pursue Amelia.

The woman got her. It didn't take long. It just happened. And when it did, they hit it off.

Of course, there was estrangement. It's still there, and she knows it. But it's lighter now. It's not heavy anymore. She never feels heavy anymore. She doesn't doubt her affections for her.

She looks at her now, and wonders how it all happened, how it happened so quickly.

She was just enchanted by Amelia. She still is.

Maybe always, she thinks, as she watches the brunette blink in slow concentration.

Now she looks at her a little more closely this time, and smiles while Amelia scans her eyes slowly and carefully over the flimsy paper she holds in her grasp. Arizona listens as she reads aloud and her tone is soft and hesitant, and almost shy, as though she were reciting to her a confession, or something terribly personal.

Her lips are alluring when she reads, Arizona thinks. It's in the way she softly puckers them, preparing to enunciate a word. It's the way she draws her breath softly, and yet slowly enough that she can hear the slight intake of breath. There is hesitation in her tone, perhaps because it is in front of Arizona and not an audience, yet she still maintains that air of confidence that has always charmed the blonde.

"'Life will out,'" she concludes softly, with a tone of finality.

Arizona smiles and waits for Amelia to look up at her. "What does that mean?"

The brunette's eyes only widen, and the hesitation in her eyes completely vanish. "You're never heard of 'Truth will out'?" Amelia asks, and she seems surprised.

"No."

"It means the truth will always come out. I just changed 'truth' to 'life.' Not like, 'life will always come out,'" she pauses, seemingly confused by her own words, "but life will always… well, because, you know," she stammers again, her gaze dropping to the paper again. But this time, her eyes gloss over and she looks different. Arizona reaches out and lifts her chin slightly so that she looks at her again. And again, her eyes seem to glow with recognition. She continues, "Because life always goes on. No matter what."

She smiles for a moment and drops her hand from Amelia's chin down to her thigh, squeezing it gently with her hand. The neurosurgeon follows only with her eyes, as if caught off guard. Arizona reaches over to press her lips against Amelia's closed and startled mouth. The woman seems flustered, and she laughs when Arizona smiles coyly at her.

Arizona smiles back and something about the phrase Amelia has chosen resonates with her. But she longs to prolong. "A poem?" Her tone is incredulous and she's mostly lowering her voice to tease the relentless teaser. "You don't strike me as the literary type."

Amelia scoffs. "It's not poetry. It's Shakespeare."

"Which is… poetry."

"A play! Which is alluding to a larger picture," she retorts.

"Which is kind of like poetry," Arizona reasons. "Besides, aren't his plays written in couplets?"

Amelia slaps the paper down on the couch, seemingly finished with the banter. "Okay, Arizona. You paid attention in English class. I get it. I'm talking about a tumor here. Let's get real now."

Though her banter is playful, Amelia adopts her indignant tone, but Arizona stops her before she can begin.

"You're brilliant," she tells her.

"What?" the neurosurgeon asks, surprised and hopeful. "Really?" She seems shy now and clears her throat, attempting to retain her brash playfulness. "You liked the speech?"

"Absolutely," Arizona smiles, and slips the paper from her hands.

She surprises herself when she pushes Amelia further into the couch they've been sitting on, crawling onto her lap eagerly. Amelia is taken aback, but lends her thighs to Arizona, drawing her hips closer to her own. Arizona's lips are drawn to her just the same, and she slips her tongue into Amelia's mouth before she can say another word.

Amy just gasps into her mouth and clutches her hips tighter with her hands. Arizona can feel the scrape of her fingertips against the fabric of her pants. She breaks apart to catch her breath and looks down at Amelia, whose eyes remained closed. She opens them slightly and lowers her head, as if woken up from a daydream. "Why'd you stop?" she asks.

"No reason," Arizona answers, holding either side of her face with her hands. She runs her thumbs against the softness of Amelia's cheeks and smiles. "Just…" she tries to say, but she can't find the words she wants to say. She looks down at Amelia and strokes her cheeks again, marveling at her while she only stares back in a kind of dazed, aroused confusion.

"What?" Amelia asks.

She presses her lips against Amelia's again, silencing her confusion and feeling the heat rise in her body. She has been feeling steady anticipation lately, and now she knows it is because of Amelia that she feels it. She's been feeling so many things.

The couch starts to rock as she moves frantically on top of Amelia, pushing up her scrub shirt only slightly to feel the skin against her hands. She feels a gasp against her lips and Amelia tries to pull away as she continues. "Hey," she murmurs, "wait, this isn't a good place-"

"No one's gonna come," Arizona says, as she pushes her hand to feel Amelia's hot skin. The brunette concedes and allows her to, and she finds herself getting lost in her lips and her skin, but then she realizes that making out in the Attendings' lounge is probably not a good idea, after all.

"Oh," she hears. It's an unamused oh, an oh she recognizes very well, an oh she never expected interruption from. She pulls away from Amelia's lips but doesn't get off her lap or turn around to face the door. Instead, she stares at Amelia, who looks over to the door with wide eyes.

"Uh, Doctor Herman," Amelia says.

"Well," Herman chuckles, "when you're done, let Robbins know that Stone's surgery has been moved up. We're prepping in thirty."

Arizona hears the door shut and continues to watch Amy's wide eyes as she stares at the door for another moment before looking up at Arizona, but she only laughs when she notices her expression. "You should see the look on your face."

"I am…" Arizona murmurs, feeling the blood flare against her cheeks, "uh, humiliated?" she wonders.

Amelia only grins at her and wraps her arms around her waist. "I think the word you're looking for is embarrassed."

"Right."

"I told you it was a bad idea."

Arizona only groans and places her forehead against Amelia's shoulder.

"Shut up."

"Well," she starts, "I'd say we're even."

The surgical mask does not obscure the smile that is evident in her mentor's eyes, and she begins to feel her cheeks flaring again.

"I don't know what you mean."

Herman laughs, and the sharp exhale of air resembles a kind of laugh that sounds unconvinced, a dubious laugh. "And you gave me such crap for Graham."

"That was different," Arizona explains, "and he was your fellow."

"How was that different?" Herman asks, meeting the blonde's gaze with her sharp eyes. "You two were practically in the same position as Graham and me when I walked in on you."

"Please, Doctor Herman," Arizona groans, embarrassed at the looks she knows she's getting now. The conversations shared in the OR breach personal matters. "You didn't see anything."

"Neither did you," Herman points out.

"But it's different!"

"How?" Herman says, and she quickly comes to shallow reasoning, "oh, well just because Graham has a pen-"

The fellow interjects, "That's not what I meant."

"Then what?"

"She's my girlfriend."

She paces around the lounge excitedly, her pulse thundering loudly in her ears as she awaits Amelia's arrival.

She clutches the paper in her hand and looks it over again, nodding to herself before folding it and then unfolding it.

Should she show her? That would be wise. But she needs to see it, too.

She hasn't even seen it. Not in person. She just likes the idea of it.

All of the opportunities it presents. It's refreshing. And new. And lovely. Like Amelia.

And her heart leaps when Amelia opens the door and closes it behind her, not moving, but just staring at her as she struts around again.

"You called, my sunshine?" Amy asks, eyeing her curiously, a hint of amusement in her demeanor.

"So," Arizona starts, continuing to pace around, unnerved by how unnerved she is. "I've been thinking, you know, that I'm tired of people interrupting us and I'm tired of sleeping on couches and Karev's old mattress and sneaking in and out of the McDreamy palace," she rambles on, stopping when she notices Amelia leaning against the closed door of the lounge with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face.

Arizona knows that she's already noticed the paper that she has clutched in her hands. She's just waiting.

So she blurts it out.

"I'm getting an apartment. Wanna move in with me?"

Amelia doesn't even feign surprise, her smile grows wider until she has to laugh. So she does and leans back against the door and says, "No way."

Arizona is somehow unsurprised, but the rejection still shakes her. She feels another sensation in her chest, and it feels like disappointment. Soaring disappointment. "Why?" she deflates.

Amelia rejects it so easily.

"Because we're having sex," she says, simply. She walks over to Arizona and takes the paper from her hand, looking over the strangely shaped apartment photos.

"So?"

"And we'll be room mates."

"So?" Arizona says, taking the paper away from her. "You're my girlfriend."

Amelia looks at her, startled, almost, and yet somehow overjoyed. She smiles and opens her mouth to say something, but it falters and she laughs. She looks down to her feet and back up at Arizona. "I'm your girlfriend?" Amelia asks in surprise.

Arizona turns away from her and takes a seat on the couch, offering her outstretched hand to Amelia. "Aren't you?"

She smiles and takes her hand, allowing Arizona to pull her to the couch to sit beside her. "I guess I am, then."

"Okay," Arizona laughs, once Amelia is comfortably seated next to her. "Then move in with me."

"Nope," she refuses. "You lesbians are too fast."

"Oh, jeez," Arizona rolls her eyes, "I'm not-"

Amelia interjects, "Besides, you meant it as a room mate thing."

"What?"

"You mean it as a room mate thing. Not as a girlfriend thing," Amelia explains. "You just realized that I'm your girlfriend, didn't you?"

She was right. Earlier, when she stared at her. That was it.

But maybe it's more than that. It's not about that, she thinks. Too much would have to be revealed. There is love in something like that, she remembers.

"So did you!" Arizona exclaims pointedly.

"Right," Amelia affirms, "So I think it's clear we're not ready for that yet."

Arizona only frowns, yet something about Amelia's rejection feels relieving, and she doesn't know why. Maybe it's assurance. She's always moved too fast. Too fast into everything. She's still not used to having those conversations. The ones that ask Where do we go from here - the ones that have always destroyed her in its unrelenting pace.

Still, it is nice. Still, she is relieved.

"But I love it," she complains softly, staring at the crumpled paper in her hands.

"That doesn't mean you need to give it up."

"That's true," she considers. Maybe she will get the apartment.

"I'll come over."

"You'll obviously stay in my room, won't you?" Arizona asks.

"I'm sure someone is bound to crash at your place eventually," Amelia reasons. "People are always on the move around this hospital. So, yeah, I'll stay in your room and you can kick me off into the guest room when you get pissed."

"Who says that will happen?"

Amelia shrugs. "It's bound to."

"You're just prepared for everything, huh?"

"Gotta be. 'Life will out,'" she says nonchalantly.

Arizona only laughs. Forever, the charm. "Well, when I get it, will you help me move in at least?"

"That, I'll do."

"I never see you," Amelia tells her, as she is shoved against the door of an on-call room.

"Amelia," Arizona groans. "You're just as busy as I am."

"Yeah, but," the shorter woman whines, "what, you don't care?"

"Of course I care," the blonde says, as Amelia pulls her hand towards the bed.

"You're a stone-cold lesbian, Robbins."

"What?"

"Does that make you angry?"

"What?" she asks again, pulling her hand away. "What's gotten into you?"

"I'm feeling pissy. You've pissed me off."

"Amelia," Arizona rolls her eyes. "I don't have time for this."

"Am I making you angry?" she asks, pulling her hand again. She sits on the bed and tugs on Arizona's wrist, and the blonde tumbles onto her. "Are you going to reprimand me?"

"What?" Arizona says. "No!"

"But," she continues, and now Arizona hears the low, husky tone of her voice. "You seem like the type."

Arizona peels her scrub pants off before taking Amelia's shirt off and is pleasantly surprised to find her without a bra. "Well," she smiles, placing her hands on her breasts, "you do seem like you need some discipline."

"Ooh," Amelia grins, "I like this role-play."

The role-play is reversed, though, despite Arizona's position on top of Amelia. The brunette doesn't give her a chance, she is too busy touching her, too busy running her warm hands over Arizona's increasingly hot thighs. Amelia's touches are light and feathery and she feels herself tingling from the sensation, her body is already completely heated.

She listens to the rush, the rush of it all, accompanied by the blood boiling in her ears and the heat enveloping her body, and she marvels at the feeling, the overpowering emotion she gets when she's with her.

Amelia plunges into her before she can say anything, before she can even prepare herself, and she collapses on top of her and pushes herself against the brunette's thrusting fingers.

"Move against me," Amelia tells her, and she does just that. It's difficult with this angle, but Amelia's fingers so slide easily into her. She pushes herself harder against Amelia's hand and lifts herself so that she's properly hovering over her.

Amelia's eyes are steady and unrelenting, and she begins to thrust against Arizona again, clutching her waist and keeping her movements in control. The thrusts are deep and hard and she can feel herself clenching around her, but it's too slow.

"Let me come," Arizona gasps.

"Nope," Amelia whispers against her ear. "I don't get to see you."

"T-th-that's… not," Arizona pants, biting her neck in the process. Amelia gasps at the sensation and thrusts harder into her. She feels herself clench tightly around Amelia, almost glad for the roughness. But the feeling is not enough. She needs a different angle. "God, Amelia," she pants. "Fuck me."

"Then it'll be over."

"It's," Arizona gasps, trying to finish her sentence. It tampers off into a moan, though, and her voice becomes lost in the sensations.

"I need you to feel it," she feels Amelia murmur against her skin, "feel me."

"I do," she pants.

She thought she would be role-playing, not devoting her entire self to Amelia. She feels consumed, enveloped, and completely hot, almost on fire. Amelia flips her over and slides down her body, fastening her mouth against her heat while her fingers thrust suddenly fast and hard.

And when she comes, Amelia doesn't stop, but continues, slipping her fingers out and devouring her with her mouth. Amelia stops eventually, though, when she's made sure that the blonde has come again.

She is blurry and panting when Amelia reaches her line of sight again, and she just looks at her with soft eyes. Not teasing. Just… soft.

"I do."

Her days run fine, they run smoothly and she rarely sees Amelia, but she's high on surgery, high on saving babies, high on being the savior and befriending Herman, so it doesn't cross her mind. It all feels good for a moment, good in the moment, and she is living life like she did so many years ago - whisking through it and getting what she wants, like an unstoppable force.

So it shocks her when her patient loses her child, when her patient breaks down in tears, and she can't help but let her own out as she closes the door and blinks back the threatening flood in her eyes. There was blood for the patient, but not for her. There was no blood.

There was nothing.

There was no heart beat.

And a beating heart means everything, sometimes.

Herman barks at her to stop sobbing, and tells her that Castillo is up on the list. It was just one loss that didn't matter anymore. And when Herman storms out, she sits on the couch by herself and stares at the color-coded board that, she now realizes, is slowly becoming monochromatic.

The changes are coming so quickly, she thinks, and she lays on the couch and turns on her side. She pulls out her phone and sends a message.

Come to me, she writes.

She is mostly sleeping when it happens, sleep sobbing, maybe, because she finds hair being stroked, she finds herself staining the other woman's shirt with her tears.

Still, she finds comfort in Amelia's arms.

"She lost the baby," she whispers against her.

She feels a kiss on her forehead and "I'm sorry," is whispered back to her. It's painful, and yet Amelia's stroking of her hair and her soft breathing somehow sings her to sleep.

Arizona wakes up to find herself buried in Amelia's arms, wound comfortably against her body. Her legs are intertwined with her own, and she is so close that she can hear her heart beating against her ear.

She listens to the drone of the air conditioner in the lounge and opts to block out the sound, to drown it with a rhythm she much rather prefers, so she nestles her head closer to Amelia's chest, closer to her heart. And when she hears it beating, the sound is slow and steady and calming to her. And she finds herself happy to be buried in her arms, pleased to be against her in this moment.

She thinks back to her lost child, her failed marriage, and her dying mentor, and she is struck with the impermanence of it all, this everything she still tries to understand.

Life always changes, yet life will out. Always.

What will come from this point on will change everything, she thinks, and she buries her head against Amelia's neck, as if shielding herself from it.

The woman doesn't groan from the fierce embrace, though, she just wakes up, unperturbed and unflinching. Arizona feels her wrap her arms tightly around her, and she feels her warm breathing against her scalp.

"You okay?" a raspy voice inquires.

The sleep laden tone will always charm her.

"I don't think so."

"It will be okay," Amelia convinces her soothingly. She feels her warm fingers thread through her hair.

"Why?" Arizona asks. "'Life will out'?"

She feels a puff of warm air against her scalp as Amelia lets out a soft chuckle at her remark.

"Yes. 'Life will out,'" she echoes, "and you are brave."

"You're the brave one."

"I try," Amelia confesses, "but it's hard."

"I know."

A pause. She listens to the sound of her beating heart. She feels her fingertips against her forehead.

"The baby," Amelia starts.

"I was sad about it," Arizona confesses, her voice muffled against Amelia's neck. "I will always be sad about it."

Amelia seems to wait for something more, but nothing comes. Arizona feels Amelia pull her closer, pressing her forehead against her own. Her honest eyes are bright and tired.

"When you can't take it, come find me," she tells her. "My arms will always be open for you."

"The bird flew away," she realizes, lifting a hand to shield the sun from her eyes.

The sky is so vividly blue and she's never really taken the time to sit down and acknowledge it. It's strange to do things with a dying person. There are so many things you see for the first time. You learn to take in everything.

"So if I die," Nicole tries again.

"Don't," Arizona warns. "You won't."

"Your girlfriend is not God, Robbins," Herman retorts and decidedly continues, "If I'm corked, pull the plug."

"Please stop."

"You need to learn how to take loss."

"I've lost enough in my life to know what it feels like."

She can feel Herman smiling at her as she stares up at the sky, tired, and suddenly blinded by the brightness of it all.

"It all keeps existing, though," Herman reasons. "Even when it's gone."

Callie inquires and it still somehow makes Arizona's heart tremble. She is on her way to Herman, and on her way to Amelia, but Callie stops her in her tracks and seems to assess her with her eyes. Arizona knows the look. She assumes Callie is on her way to see Sofia, but then she stops her and presses a hand against her shoulder.

They opt for a smile as a greeting and both look through the window of the daycare at their child.

Callie turns her gaze back first.

"Sofia likes her," Callie says. "Mentioned her."

"Huh?" Arizona asks. "Who?"

Callie looks flustered, and glances down at the blonde's feet before looking at her again. Her eyes are more bold this time. Honest, somehow. And most of all, concerned. "Amelia," she says. "You're dating now, aren't you?"

"H-how did you know?"

Callie chuckles. "It's obvious."

"Callie-"

"You seem happy," she interrupts. "I'm glad. It's nice, I mean, that you're happy. You're happy, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Callie stops herself to smile and contemplates more before she begins again. "Is it because of Doctor Herman? Or Amelia?"

Arizona frowns inwardly at the question, and really wonders at it, but she retains herself as she replies confidentially, "Both."

Callie smiles and nods, unwilling to meet her eyes. "Herman. She's sick."

"She'll be okay."

"Are you okay?" Callie asks, and she can see the concern again.

"I'm fine…" she murmurs, and she can't help but chuckle at her gentleness. "Callie?"

"Sorry, it's just… old habits, you know?"

Arizona nods, and now she looks to her own feet. She doesn't feel flustered at all, nor at a loss for words. It feels right, though maybe she'll always feel strange around her.

"Will Amelia-" Callie starts again, but Arizona stops her.

"She will. She can," she says, thinking back to that recital. "I believe that she can."

She is at the McDreamy palace now, a place she once regarded with esteem, and then dread, and then affection once again. Places never remain the same. They are all victims to the motion of time. But now she lays in bed in the Guest room, once Cristina's room, now Amelia's room, and stares up at the ceiling with her.

They lay side-by-side, a thin sheet covering their torsos. Underneath the sheet, she has her fingers intertwined with Amelia's.

"It's soon," Arizona says.

"Friday," Amelia clarifies.

"That's really soon."

She feels Amelia let go of her hand and turn on her side. The younger McDreamy lightly pokes on her cheek to get her attention, and she turns her head and looks at her.

Amelia's eyes are dark and glossy, and it makes her want to silence her. But she lets her say it.

"I don't want to make this serious."

And like a storm, the thundering in her chest begins. "What?"

"This. This, you know?"

Amelia turns her gaze to Arizona's chest and avoids her eyes. But she knows. She'll always know now.

"What happened during your presentation?"

"Nothing," she says quickly. But something about the way her eyebrows furrow makes Arizona press on. She turns to her fully now, and presses her forehead against Amelia's.

"Tell me."

"If Callie-"

"Why Callie?" she asks, knowingly. "It's not about Callie, Amelia," she tells her, and she feels her chest settling down. The thumping is heavy, but it's not the same. It doesn't shake her up. "It's about me. It's about Herman. It's about you."

Amelia says nothing, she just continues to avert her gaze. Arizona places her hand on her cheek and brushes the hair away from her face. She says it again, "It's about me and it's about you."

Amelia lets out a soft laugh, almost of relief, she thinks, as she continues to stroke her cheek.

But then she speaks.

"You mean it's about us."

"Us?" Arizona asks, halting her gesture.

And her gaze is finally met.

The eyes that meet her own are confident again, and brilliant. Always brilliant.

"Us. Like an item. You are my girlfriend."

Arizona smiles. "I thought you just said you didn't want to make this serious."

"Girlfriend," Amelia snorts. "That doesn't mean I'm calling U-Haul, Robbins."

"That's awful," Arizona laughs. "You're awful."

Soft laughter fills the room as Amelia molds herself against Arizona's body.

"She's worried," Arizona reasons. "An old habit. I'm sorry for what she did during your presentation."

Amelia waits before speaking again. "I get it, she's worried about you. That'll never change," she continues, and this time she pulls Arizona against her, and on top of her, and Arizona finds herself looking into Amelia's confident guise.

"But let me worry about you now."

The next time Arizona finds her, she is frantic. She needs to save Castillo, she needs to save another baby. To make up for all the other lost ones, all of the lost time. She finds Amelia, and almost yells at her, failing to realize the cold, still expression on the neurosurgeon's face.

"Arizona," she warns, and the tone of her voice makes her realize that they are standing only footsteps apart in a cold room, staring at a scan of a catastrophic tumor with only a glass wall separating them from the surly, dying Nicole Herman. It's time, she knows, and Amelia looks hesitant, but she can see that she wants to be brave. She watches as her girlfriend nods at her and leaves to prepare the OR.

When she speaks to Herman, she hears nothing new, only a recital of directions that have since been drilled into her head.

She escorts her gurney down the hall, as though she might never see it again, as though this would be the last time.

"Nicole," she says. "Nicole."

"Let's get you inside," Amelia says.

She doesn't look at Amelia, but she knows her eyes. They are puffy, but resilient. She is resilient. She is brave and strong and almost everything in this moment.

She looks down to Herman, who takes her hand in her own.

"This is where you trust her. You need to trust her," Arizona says. "This is the point where you trust her."

The surgical mask is put on and Nicole leaves consciousness.

Arizona looks over to Amelia, and Amelia nods back.

She is not her girlfriend.

Not in this moment.

Now she is a surgeon.

The brilliant neurosurgeon, Amelia Shepherd.

"Go save that baby."