Title: This
Author: walking_weapon
Rating: PG
Pairing: Callie/Arizona
Summary: A snapshot of how Callie and Arizona are coping post 6x21.

I stop when I see her on the walkway, I can't seem to stop freezing every time I see her. She’s leaning against the railing and staring out at the pouring rain, looking so lost that all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and tell her it’ll all be ok. But I can’t, that’s not my job anymore. Sighing, I start walking over to her before my brain even registers what I’m doing. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; all I’ve been able to do all week is run on autopilot.

When I reach her I lean against the railing beside her and face the window, neither of us look at each other, we don’t need to. She knows it’s me because of the thousand little things only she’ll ever know about me. Just like I know without looking that there’s pain and sadness in her eyes, or that she looks a little worse for wear because she isn’t sleeping well.

“I don’t know how to do this.” I sigh quietly, my voice sounding as defeated and worn out as the rest of me feels.

“What?” Arizona stutters in obvious confusion.

“This.” I repeat, gesturing between us and briefly glancing at her before returning my stare to the wall of windows.

“Oh…well we don’t have to do this. We don’t have to be friends. It’s a big hospital, lots of floors, lots of places to hide.” Arizona replies, mimicking my words and tone from that day when she asked me out so perfectly it nearly tears my heart in two. That day feels like an eternity ago, but she remembers. She remembers and she’s standing her right now saying my words back to me and all I can do is laugh. I laugh to keep from crying, and it’s more of a weak chuckle than a laugh, but she laughs too and for a few brief seconds I don’t feel quite so empty.

“That’s just it, I can’t not do this. I love you and as hard as I try, I can’t stop…feeling things.” I sigh wearily. I can’t help but think that that if I could just stop feeling, even if just for a few minutes, I might be able to cope better. If I could just not feel, not care, not love her, this gaping hole in my heart might heal. Or at least scar over.

“I can’t have a great surgery and not want to text you about it. I can’t pass a doughnut shop without thinking about you. I can’t see you and not want to kiss you. So I can’t not do this, because I love you and I can’t have you, so if all I can be is your friend then…I have to do this.” I say resolutely, finally turning to look at her. She nods a little and then turns her head towards me.

My eyes confirm what I already knew; she’s clearly in pain and looks like she hasn’t slept well in…well probably as long as me, since the night we broke up. We’re really going to have to find a way to cope with that, if for no other reason then so we can do our jobs properly.

She studies me silently for a minute or two, and oddly enough the silence isn’t awkward, but then it never was between us. Biting her lip she finally tears her eyes gaze away and I know it’s because she’s fighting not to cry. We both seem to do that a lot now, even when we aren’t around each other.

“I could tell you it’ll get easier or that it just takes time, but I don’t like to lie, so I won’t say any of that.” She says quietly, her voice full of honesty and something I can’t quite name. Before I have a chance to analyze the emotion that laced Arizona’s tone my pager sounds and rudely shatters our moment of quiet. Glancing down, I see that it’s a 911 page to the ER, and I can’t help but sigh in frustration. I almost felt whole again, I was almost comfortable enough to pretend that things were ok. Now I have to go back to reality, a reality where Arizona and I are anything but comfortable. Frankly, reality bites.

“Go be a rockstar.” Arizona says with a warm smile when I look back up at her. Even now her smile still warms my heart. I nod, smiling weakly and slowly turn away to head back to work. I only make it a few steps before she calls after me.

“Calliope.” I freeze as my full name rolls from her lips just like it has so many times before. I turn back to her just in time to see her wipe a lone tear from her cheek.

“I don’t know how to do this either.” She says softly, before turning around and quickly walking away. Her blonde curls bounce as her pace picks up and her shoulders hunch. I know she’s crying. I know she’s heading to the roof. I know she’s probably about to have a cigarette. I know her. All I want to do is follow her, wrap her in my arms and never let go while I tell her it’ll be ok, and then find a way for that to be true. I want to do that. Instead I turn back around and start for the ER again, autopilot slipping firmly back into place.