A line of texts flash one after another onto her brightly lit screen.
The words illuminate in the darkness of the room, and she sighs against them, as though rendered useless in this moment.
I heard what happened. Are you okay?
Arizona?
Where are you?
Please answer me.
Mer is looking for you.
I need to see you.
Arizona please.
She doesn't respond. The scenes are playing in her head. Fire. Trees. Smoke. Screaming, always 're playing in her head and it seems to blur her screen, her vision, so she doesn't respond. She lets her phone drop back onto the floor, landing gently next to her crumpled up lab coat.
She breathes.
Heavily.
That's all she can do.
Meredith does find her after a while. She opens the door to the storage closet as if that had always been their meeting place, as though they've since established a strong bond - but it's more of an affinity that guides her there, Arizona knows, and so she doesn't regard Meredith finding her with confusion.
Instead, she tells her that a plane crashed.
Meredith knows. She knows, she says, and she sits down next to her and breathes with her. They breathe together, in silence and nervousness, and Arizona takes her hand.
In the dark room, all they can hear are themselves. They are not alone.
And We're okay becomes their mantra.
They talk about what they see, and how it's parallel to their awful memories. A man's leg. A missing boyfriend. A plane crashing.
It's all too familiar.
But she knows, she knows they're okay.
They will always be okay.
She trembles nervously while gripping the hand of the estranged woman next to her, whom she's known for years.
It takes her a moment to laugh at where they've come.
Amelia finds her and she resists.
She stands at the nurse's station, gripping her tablet tightly. She can't act this way towards her, not now. This is her burden alone, she thinks.
She can't ruin it again. She can't blame anyone again.
Resistance is not something that she actively chooses, but something that happens anyway. It forces itself into her. She's become resistant to talk.
Amelia quietly approaches her, and gently pulls on the sleeve of her lab coat. When Arizona turns to her, she sees the tiredness in her eyes, the darkness and the glow that seems to envelop them.
"Meredith told me to let you be," she says, "but I couldn't do that."
She imagines Amelia snapping at her stoic sister-in-law.
Arizona laughs nervously. "I'm fine."
"Are you?" Amelia asks, tugging on her sleeve again. "You didn't respond to me." She sounds concerned.
She sighs. She feels so tired. Too heavy. "Alex is on my ass already, Amelia."
Her rebuff makes Amelia flinch. She lets go of her lab coat.
"Sorry," Arizona quickly says. "Maybe I do…" she continues, dropping her gaze, "need to be alone."
"I could understand," Amelia tries to reassure her.
But she knows she never could. The words cut deeply, and she remembers Callie.
"You couldn't," she coldly dismisses her, scampering off before Amelia can say anything else.
Alex follows her around throughout the day, and she is tempted to snap at him, to lecture him for his intrusiveness, as though he simply isn't doing this just to protect her.
She knows he only tries to protect her.
Isn't that what everyone tries to do?
What Callie tried to do?
What Amelia does now?
But she ends up snapping at him anyway, and he understands and draws away from her. He hurries away, because she makes him.
She realizes this is why people leave her. She makes them leave her. She insists that she can do everything on her own. She is resistant to let them in.
She always has been, hasn't she?
She texts Amelia and requests she come to the Attending's lounge. She waits on the couch, fumbling with the phone in her hands, staring at the emptiness of the text box to Amelia.
Amelia promptly comes to her and Arizona ushers her to the couch with her hand, taking her own hand lightly as she pulls her down. She allows Amelia to get comfortable before she leans over and settles her head onto her lap.
Amelia says nothing to her, though, and she begins to feel as she lightly threads her fingers through her blonde hair.
This is what she enjoys the most.
"Do you want to move in with me?" Arizona asks quietly.
Amelia laughs. "No."
"Why not?"
Amelia waits a moment, and she hears the consideration of her tone. The hurt and wariness of it. "I couldn't stand if you ignored me like this."
"I'm sorry."
"I told you I can understand," Amelia starts, but she stops herself. Arizona listens as her voice gets lighter, softer. She continues, "not that. Not the plane crash. I never could. But… but, the being alone."
"Yeah," Arizona agrees.
"I know you need it."
"Yeah," she agrees again. Arizona takes her free hand and entangles her fingers with Amelia's. "But not now."
"I know."
"So you won't move in?"
"Not yet," Amelia tells her, and Arizona feels as she bends over and lightly kisses her hair.
She's always loved the smell of Amelia Shepherd.
She is more settled now. She is alive now.
She is breathing just fine.
But still, she finds herself nestled into Amelia's lap again, balled up in a cocoon. She is wrapped against her, and Amelia continues to stroke her hair lovingly.
The day is over. Alex told her that he was the one. It wasn't Callie that did it, but him.
The memory of it all makes her tremble.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked her.
It took a moment, and Callie explained how she knew she would hate her despite it all.
She waited before telling her. Her voice broke in its tenderness.
"I wanted you to have somebody."
She remembered Amelia just then.
"You're shivering," Amelia tells her, yet she finds it strange when she does. She can't recall shivering, but she supposes that's the reason her head seems to be vibrating. "Are you cold?" Amelia continues to ask, pulling the blankets closer against her.
"No," she says. "I'm not."
"Okay."
"The forest was cold," Arizona recalls, remembering the heaviness of Mark's head against her lap, the absence of feeling in her legs, the loss of blood that led to her perpetual coldness. "Cristina slapped me twice," she laughs weakly, "only to wake me. Only because she thought I might have been dead."
Amelia says nothing, though now she can feel the softness of her fingertips against her scalp.
"I might have been dead."
"But you aren't now."
"Mark died on my lap once," Arizona says, "but Cristina revived him again." She continues, "No one's ever died on top of me before."
"That doesn't happen, usually."
She waits. She wants to laugh. She remembers Callie.
"I've never told anyone this before."
Amelia waits. The movement of her hand stops for a moment, but then she slides her hand against her pulse, as if to feel the beating of her heart. "It's not something that's easy to say," she says after a while.
"Alex told me that he cut off my leg," she says. "Not Callie."
"He did?" Amelia regards.
"Callie didn't do it," she says. Her head feels heavy. The trembling stops. She places her hand on Amelia's knee. "I blamed her for it. For so long. And she never told me."
Amelia waits, as though she knew they had spoken about this. She doesn't press on, but Arizona continues. "She said she wanted me to have someone."
"That's good of her."
"She is good," Arizona considers.
She turns on Amelia's lap and looks up at her, as the brunette peers down at her. She reaches up her hand and threads her fingers in Amelia's hair.
"I have people now."
Amelia smiles, "I know."
"I'm sorry."
"I'll be here for you when you need me."
"Me too," Arizona tells her. "Me too."
"Yeah?"
"Yes," she assures her. "I'm here for you, too. Always."