A/N my muse really hasn't been cooperating when it comes to this fic! I truly apologize for the long wait, but pulling ideas for this story's kind of like pulling teeth! I'm back though, with another chapter, hoping to air out my musty muse and start the fresh ideas brewing!
I don't own Grey's Anatomy!
A Chance at Happiness
That morning had been unnaturally happy, with Bailey dropping by with the news that Arizona would be given discharge papers any day now. Of course, the blonde was acting like she didn't have a care in the world, key word being acting, but beneath all her fake happiness and polish seemed to be a spark of real joy. We were both engaged in some sort of light conversation, the type of banter like a butterfly, where the topics flitted to mind long enough to cheer you up, but short enough that you forgot what it was exactly soon after. The chatter was abruptly interrupted though, when a matching pair of navy-clad cops knocked at the door. All of a sudden, all the life in Arizona's face drained away, her lifeless blue eyes fixed on the forms through the door. She looked as though she was seeing a ghost.
"Calliope who is that?" her voice tentative, hoping they weren't here for her. I knew very well who they were, but I wasn't going to tell her that right then. Instead I got up, moved towards the door slowly, and opened it just a crack.
"Hello, I'm Officer Callahaughn, and this is my partner, Officer DuPont, we'd like to speak with Miss Robbins?" a petite yet firmly-built brunette introduced, gesturing to her taller, darker-skinned male counterpart. She hadn't spoken in anything louder than a querying whisper, and yet Arizona heard it all. Her accusing voice raised as soon as the policewoman finished talking.
"You called the police?" she asked indignantly, her voice cracking as its volume raised angrily. I silently asked them to hold outside for a moment, shutting the door before turning around to face the bedridden blonde. I wanted to avoid as much as a fuss as possible, and not having police listening into an emotional Arizona would be a good start to that. Anger was coloring her cheeks bright red and igniting a fire in her eyes as she stared me down, daring me to explain myself.
"It's hospital protocol to contact the police when an abuse or rape-"
"I wasn't raped." She interjected, completely rejecting the obvious. I could tell that, now unable to hide from the truth, her angry defenses were flaring up, ready to force me, or anyone else kind enough to care, away.
"Then what do you call this?" I gestured towards her broken arm delicately, making my voice as soft and soothing as possible.
"It was an accident." She insisted. I doubted that she realized how truly stupid she sounded, blatantly denying the truth that had slapped her in the face, broke her limbs, kicked her in the gut, and violated her. I wasn't sure how she could even form the word 'accident' in her throat and still associate it with her attack. They were two completely opposite things.
"What about the positive results we got back from the SAFE kit?" I pushed. She scrambled for a lie to cover it up, so quickly and instinctively that it seemed automatic. Lying to cover up her husband's brutality became so common an occurrence in her life that it was an autonomic response.
"It was consensual." She lied through gritted teeth, squirming beneath my gaze as she tried to supress the defensive anger that was oozing from her pores.
"Consensual? You came in with more bruises than the ball in a game of soccer with steel-toed boots! You nearly died on the table! That is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard Arizona. You can't even look me in the eyes as you say it!" I was quickly losing control over my emotions, but her earlier words had sent a stake through my heart. I thought she trusted me, I thought we were almost friends, but then somehow she has the ability to lie and say that this was all okay? It was physically agonizing to watch this beautiful blonde verbally let her tormentor win.
"Shut up Callie." She growled. Callie, not Calliope, another indicator of her distancing herself.
"No, Arizona I won't. I will not let you let this bastard win. I should have called the police the instant you were wheeled through those doors, but I didn't. I wanted to wait until you were strong enough, out of kindness. But at the same time I won't watch you deny it all and slide back into the life you had before. I care about you." I pleaded. I heard the shuffling of feet from outside the room, the police officers wondering what all the holdup was no doubt.
"If you care about my feelings at all, you will shut the hell up and make them leave!" her defenses were thicker and harder than an iceberg, she was relentless. For a few seconds, I had a hard time believing that such a thick-headed and strong willed woman would ever be broken by anyone. I ran an exasperated hand through my raven locks, a stressed tic I developed over the years I suppose, externalizing all my frustration.
"That won't fix anything and you know it. I mean, God Arizona, why won't you just let me help you?" I asked, literally at my wits end. With not even a heartbeat of silence after my question, Arizona shouted angrily, her voice cracking and warbling like a broken reed.
"Because I deserved it!" her declaration shattered our angry atmosphere, the shards of it falling away, leaving only the steel-strong defense of ignorance. Silence echoed through the room for nearly a minute as we both processed her admission, the raspy breaths in the wake of the yelling resounded through the room like deafening screeches. She believed she deserved this? That was truly what she believed to be true? I couldn't even fit the sentence together in my head. It just didn't make sense.
"No one deserves this Ari-"
"Get out." She shut me down instantly.
"Listen to me, please."
"No." I was getting nothing anymore; I may as well be talking to my own echo. Arizona had lay back in her bed and turned away from the door, refusing to face me, and shutting me out with her body language as well as her limited speech.
"Okay, fine. But please talk to the police, I promise they'll protect you, but they need your statement first. If you truly believe that you deserve all this, which you don't, fine. Don't talk to them for yourself, talk to them because I asked you to. Talk to them because hopefully, you trust me. Talk to them because you know that I would never do you any harm purposefully. Please?" I begged, before turning and leaving the room. I nearly walked right into the waiting cops, who were literally standing right on the other side of the door. They looked as if they'd heard everything we'd just said, and why wouldn't they? We did yell it at the top of our lungs! I walked over to the nearby nurses' station to put my head down and decompress. Somewhere during my third silent, pleading prayer, heavy footsteps walked up behind me, and a large hand tapped me on the shoulder.
"Officer DuPont?" I asked in confusion, wondering why the tall man was here with me and not interviewing Arizona.
"Dr. Torres." He greeted, his voice bearing a similar professionalism, but lacking my surprise. "You and Miss Robbins are close, right?"
"I suppose, we met a few times before her… incident." I wasn't quite sure what to tell him. Who was Arizona to me? It wasn't like we hung out, unless you count a random chat in a park out behind a coffee shop hanging out.
"But you care about her. Keep caring, in my line of work I've seen too many women's lives destroyed by violence, all because they don't have that push to get them out of that vicious cycle. Don't be afraid to push her a little, not too hard, but just enough that she can begin to heal herself. I know it may not seem like it, but she's one of the lucky ones. She has someone who cares enough to push her." His voice was a soothing baritone, his dark brown eyes soft as he spoke, somehow calming the frenzied storm of thoughts within my head. I nodded silently, not knowing what to say back. He seemed to understand that though, holding his position for a few seconds more before stepping back.
"I suppose I'll go accompany Officer Callahaughn. Have a nice day Dr. Torres, keep caring." He affirmed, resuming his leaden-foot walk back to Arizona's room. Despite the odd sense of calm which had managed to delicately blanket my worries like a thin, patchy coat of snow, I was left hoping to God that Arizona was cooperating. I cared enough to push yes, but I didn't have the energy or the strength to push someone who frantically ran back towards the poison that almost killed her once. After all, I'm only human, and no amount of caring can change that.
A/N please review!