Title: Transition Period (1/1)
Author: youngerdrgrey
Pairing: Callie/Arizona, Mark/Arizona friendship, Mark/Callie friendship
Summary: 7x19. Arizona and Mark work out their system for dealing with Callie and Sofia
Rating: T
Warnings/Spoilers: 7x19
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights for the characters and the world go to their owners (like Shonda Rhimes and ABC). I, in no way, believe – or would lead others to believe – that I own Grey's Anatomy. I am merely a fan of the television show who has ideas for things that Shonda could do/could've done.

Author's Note: Please review if you read.


It's the first time they've looked at each other in days. Really looked at each other. Like, 'oh hey, you're one of the three most important people in Callie's life and I'm stuck with you and this is really fricking hard on you too' type of looking at each other. Though, it mostly just seems like they're glancing over their shoulders.

Arizona searches inside for that moment when she first knew she loved Callie. She holds onto it, reminding herself of the days before life was so fucking difficult. Back in the day, before the stable couple of SGMW tanked, life made sense. Everything happened for a reason, but now it's like the universe is just messing with them.

Mark misses the days when he, Lexie, Callie and Arizona were a little family. Sometimes, he misses that more than the actual relationship. Not often, but he does. He imagines Lexie playing house with Avery and Meredith and Derek. Feeding Avery the cereal Mark made her fall in love with. Spending nights with Avery in the bed she and Mark had really broken in. Smiling at Avery like that scrawny wimp was the god men wish to be. It makes him sick, but not as much as this does.

The two of them stand side by side to watch Callie's physical therapy session. Callie rages about to the most of her ability. She screams to be pushed harder and that she can't wait any longer. Mark jokes about how she used to say that to him, but neither of them laugh. It's not so funny when they know Callie will be doing none of that any time soon.

"She hates me," Arizona says without looking away. Mark does it for her when he throws a glance at her.

"She loves you," he says.

"True, but right now she wishes that she didn't."

"Did she say that to you because they have her on a lot of medications and she's frustrated and-"

"I can see it in when she looks at me, Mark. She may not hate me, but she hates what I did to her."

He turns to look at her and makes sure she's looking back at him. Staring right at her, he says, "You did not do this to her. It was an accident."

"Then why do I feel like I ruined her whole life? The first person Sofia ever saw was April. April, Mark."

He almost wants to laugh at that. Instead, he says, "It'll only make her appreciate Callie all the more."

Arizona shakes her head at him. Inside the room, Callie drops the ball for the thirteenth time. Arizona flips over so that she's no longer watching.

She says, "Calliope can't be alone with the baby. She can't because she can't help Sofia. It is killing her."

"It's killing all of us, but that doesn't mean she loves you any less. She took you back after you went to Africa. She almost sacrificed her dream for you. Callie would do anything for you, Robbins," he says.

"She's marrying me," Arizona says. She makes the point to say it every day just to cement it. Arizona Robbins, failure to commit, is getting married to the most beautiful, most talented, most awe-inspiring woman imaginable. "I don't get it, Mark. Why is she so good to me?"

"Hell if I know," Mark says. This time Arizona does laugh. He chuckles too. He says, "You're good to each other. Just don't muck it up this time."

"Never," she promises.

"Good, because next time you hurt her, I'm going to have to kill you."

"Fair enough."

The two turn back to look at Callie. She's shaking and fighting to breathe, doubled over. She glances up and sees them. Instantly, she stands up straighter and tries to take longer breaths. Try as she might, it doesn't convince either of them that she is as okay as she would like them to believe. Mark and Callie share a moment before he walks away. Callie grabs the ball again, and Arizona makes her way into the room. Some of the kids use superstitions to determine things; Arizona decides that if Calliope could hold onto the ball for more than thirty seconds, everything will be as it was before.

She lasts twelve.

Callie grunts when the physical therapist makes no move towards it. In fact, he looks to Arizona, asking silently for help. Arizona waves him away.


"Don't, Arizona. Not now," Callie says. Her voice is forced and tense with the frustration of it all. She persistently doesn't look towards her fiancee.

"Calliope, I'm just checking in you," Arizona says.

Callie looks at her and barks, "Well don't. I don't need checking on. I'm not a child, Arizona; I'm your fiancee."

"Exactly, that means I get to check up on you and care about how you're doing."

"I'm doing fine," insists Callie, but the ball still on the ground is proof of the opposite.

Why did Arizona choose such a stubborn woman to fall in love with? Every day is a challenge with Callie. Lately, Arizona finds herself questioning how long this ridiculous, tiresome battle will continue. She's in it for the long haul, but she could definitely do with hiding out until the worst of it is done.

"How long are you going to lie to us, Calliope?"

Callie looks to Arizona in surprise. Arizona doesn't waste the break in sass. She informs Callie that "Cristina told me you have been having headaches, bad ones. You told me you've been headache free for a week at least."

"It was just one," Callie says. Arizona deepens her stare. Callie corrects herself, "Or two… a day."

Arizona sighs heavily.

"Why did you lie? You have to talk to Derek and get better. Remember Izzie Stevens didn't tell anyone about her headaches and, well, we all know how that ended," Arizona says.

"She had cancer," Callie says.

"And you have a very serious brain injury that required surgery. Two similar cases in that regard."

"I don't have tumors. I went through a windshield," Callie says.

"I was there, Calliope. I know what happened," Arizona says, "More than that, I know what will happen if you keep this up. You're going to hurt yourself. You'll set back your recovery and we'll keep on pushing back the wedding. Sofia will go home before you-"

"She won't," Callie says. She pushes at some sweat dampened locks and says again, stronger, "She will not go home without me."

"She will if you keep this up," Arizona says.

Callie shakes her head. She grumbles, "I'm done talking about this."


"I am done, Arizona! Can you go so that I can keep working?"

Arizona watches her for a moment more before sighing. She turns and heads out. At the door, she meets up with Mark. She wonders how long ago he returned. What is he going to say this time?

"I'll take the next shift," he tells Arizona, "You take the munchkin and I'll take the moping one."

Arizona grins a bit.

"Tell me everything. You hear me, Mark?" she checks. He nods.

"I'll call you every five seconds," he says jokingly. She rolls her eyes. He motions for her to get going. She glances down at her watch and realizes that Sofia's typical feeding time is approaching fast. She waves a quick goodbye and rushes off.

Callie calls out to him, "You guys best friends now?"

He glances back at her and shrugs. He says, "It's the first time we've really talked in days."

"You didn't say much," Callie points out.

"We don't need to," he says, "We only have one goal."

"And that is?"

"Getting you and Sofia better. So, let's try holding the ball, okay?"

He makes his way into the room and holds it out to her. Callie looks over his shoulder to where Arizona used to be. Slowly, she sighs and reaches out for it. She tells herself that if it's better than her last time that she'll get home before Sofia.

"Get the timer ready, Mark," she says. He whips out his cellphone with a grin and hands the ball over.

Her face tenses and her muscles clench. His eyebrows knit. His gaze flickers from the stopwatch app to the little green ball repeatedly. Come on. Come on.

It slips from her hands onto the ground. She looks at him expectantly. He finishes out a text message before handing the phone over to Callie.

In the sent folder, it reads: Thirty seconds. Thirty whole seconds.

Callie grins. Everything will be just fine.

I don't think it's my best, but what are your thoughts?