Disclaimer: This is AU. I do not own any of the characters from Grey's Anatomy. I just manipulate them to my will. Also, any line or phrase or setting that seems remotely familiar from any other show, movie or book, also not mine. I borrow…

AN: This is my first Fan Fic, though I have read plenty. Please be gentle. I have a lot of this story already written, so hopefully updates will come fast! Enjoy

AN2: I have been to ONE, count it, ONE PBR event. In no way am I an expert. Anything inaccurate I take literary license. Thanks!

Callies POV

Pain…that's all I feel. Someone is playing the drums behind my eyes. And not well, its like a toddler with a spoon clanking on pots. This has got to be the worst hangover headache in the history of alcohol consumption. Lights burn into my corneas like I'm starring directly at the sun. Every word someone so much as whispers is like nails on a chalk board. Ugh….when will I learn. I don't remember alot….ok, most of last night. I remember leaving work and instead of going home to my empty apartment, I steer to Joe's instead. I remember there was music. I remember there was tequila….lots of tequila.

Cut to….coming into consciousness on a bathroom floor. Is it my bathroom floor? I didn't care as long as I was within arms reach of a toilet.


White hot pain flashes in front of my closed eyes. "Jeeesssuussssss" I whisper. I know that voice, it strikes fear in the heart of most, usually I am immune but right now, I am at her mercy.

The bathroom door flies open and there stands one Miranda Bailey, 5 feet of whirling sarcasm and attitude. I usually love it, watching her reduce know-it-all interns and residents to piles of whimpering putty, but right now I'd give anything to be out from under her glare.

"Bailey?" I ask, because I don't know what else to say.

"No, its Mary-freakin-Poppins."

"Bailey, I am begging you…" I start.

"I don't want to hear it, you got yourself in this mess. I'm just here to make sure you're still amongst the living."

"Why do you care?" I am thoroughly getting pissed off. I just want silence and darkness right now, and she's screaming at me. …Ok, not screaming, but anything above breathing right now is too loud for me.

"I don't, what I do care about is having to explain to the police how I, a doctor, allowed another doctor to die of alcohol poisoning on my bathroom floor."

"You're floor? Why am I here?" Now I am thoroughly confused.

"Because you were going home with someone last night, and I'd be damned if you were gonna go home with some stranger, wake up sans clothes and have no recollection of what you just did. At least this way you wouldn't compound the bad decisions tequila seems to impart upon you." …Aww, she does care.

I attempt to get up, but its slow moving. I hear Bailey outside the bathroom mumbling something about not having enough babies already.

"….residents and interns cutting them selves open. Got a child of my own that I don't spend enough time with. Now a grown ass women drinking her body weight in liquor." Then she turns back into the bathroom and says "Get yourself cleaned up, take a shower, whatever you need to do but I'm leaving for the hospital in 30. I suggest you be ready because it's a long walk."

At seeing the condition of my hangover, she adds "Maybe you should come in and set yourself up some fluids and a banana bag. Couldn't hurt none." With that she leaves me standing, rather unsteadily, in the bathroom.

Three hours later, I am able to function somewhat normally. Maybe I should just keep a stock of fluids and banana bags in my apartment…. Until a nurse clumsily drops the charts she is carrying, making a very unpleasant noise causing me to halt mid stride and cringe as pain shoots across my brain. Or maybe I should stop drinking…there's a novel idea Torres!

I wasn't scheduled to work today, but I'm here and I have nothing else to do. These days I find that keeping busy is the best way to keep from thinking about it…the "incident" as it is now called by the hospital gossip highway, also known as nurses. Something about the procedure of setting and casting bones is relaxing, hypnotic. It calms me, and right now, I need all the calm I can get. Because I was not suppose to work today, I have no surgeries scheduled which is fine since I'm still not at 100%, so instead I decide to troll the ER for the everyday broken arm and leg. Armed with the strong and very nasty tasting hospital coffee, I turn towards the pit and hope for an eventful day….but not too eventful.

Arizona's POV

Pain…that's all I feel. And I've felt pain before, but this, this is bad. But I've been here before, and I know the drill. It comes with the profession, its part of the job description. When you work around large animals, you expect to get kicked or bit or stepped on. But you see, I take it a step further. I don't just work with animals. I ride them, bulls specifically. And I'm damn good at it. So when I was flying through the air earlier today, it wasn't anything new. I've been bucked plenty of times. But this time my landing was less the graceful. First I see sky, then quickly I see dirt, hear a pop, and feel blinding pain in my left shoulder. Yep, ouch. That hurt.

Which is why I am sitting in this ER waiting room. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting….. I curse every person that comes in on a stretcher because that's another person who got to jump the line. Then I curse myself for being so petty, those people are really hurt. I'm not a mean person, just when I am in pain I get cranky…the amount of pain and the level of crankiness seem to have an exponential relationship.

The guy next to me keeps bouncing his knee. I've tried to ignore it. Deep breaths….just ignore it. Think nice thoughts. Ok….yea, nice thoughts. Ummm donuts, yum! Ok, rainbows and…crap! "Jesus MARK! STOP! I swear to god if you can't sit still I will rope you like a calf!"

Mark Sloan, my agent. He tries to be a good guy. Ok, he is a good guy, and he's the best agent in the biz but sometimes he can come on alittle heavy. "Damn Blondie, what's got your horns in a holster?"

Just as I'm about to shoot back at him a nurse comes around the corner and calls "Arizona Robbins?"

I jump up "Thank god!...oh I'm mean, that's me."

"Want me-" Mark starts

I cut in before he can go on "No, I don't need someone to hold my hand. Stay here, and try not to drool as you ogle the nurses." He just smirks in response.

An hour later and I am still waiting…just in a different, albeit more comfortable spot. I've filled out all the paperwork, you know the usual. Name, address, birthdate, ssn, what I plan to name my first born…all that crap. I've had my x-ray and now I wait. And wait.

AN3: So, what you think? Should I keep going? AZ and Callie meet next chapter, yay!