Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

August 2025

During the summer holidays, Callie decides to take a few days free off work to go on a road trip with Sofia, her 14-year-old daughter. She has been taking care of her alone for the last eight years, after the horrible custody battle with her ex-wife. Now she feels the teenager growing up and becoming an adult more and more every day. They didn’t really have a plan for these holidays, Callie was just driving and they decided to stop whenever they felt like it. They had been travelling for three days already and it was nearing dinner time on the fourth day.

“Mama, are we lost?”

“No, Sofia, for the hundredth time, you can’t get lost during a road trip, we aren’t going anywhere specific.”

By midday they were driving through a small village by Lake Willowrest. The city sign read “Willowvale”. They were about an hour and a half away from New York, so Callie could easily reach the hospital if needed.

“Hey Sof, what do you think about stopping for some ice cream? It’s getting pretty warm.”

“Sure Mama, we could also eat something for dinner first and have ice cream for dessert.”

“Let’s see where we can stop.”

Callie parked her car in front of “Pine & Paddle Café”. They got out of the car and went into the café. It’s clear that it isn’t the usual café they would find in New York City, it’s small, but comfortable and inviting. The walls have a pattern of red bricks, covered with a lot of paintings. They decide to sit at a table near the big window that allows them to look at the lake over the street. They scan the QR-code on the table and choose what they want. A woman approaches their table.

“Good morning and welcome at Pine & Paddle Café, I’m Anna, what can I do for you?”

Callie immediately answers “Good morning, I would like an omelette with a side of potatoes, please.”

“And for me the Garden Pickle Plate, please” adds Sofia.

“Of course, to drink?”

“A big bottle of Coke, please”

“Sure, see you in a bit”

While they wait for their dinner, they start observing the different paintings on the wall. There are a lot of different ones, one with a small rowboat tied to a dock with a steaming mug resting on  a table at the edge, one of the Main Street of the small village lined with trees in full fall colour, one with a pair of loons gliding through rippled water and a lot of others with different animals, dogs, cats, foxes, horses and even chickens. What all these paintings have in common is the sign at the edge: A.R.T. A few minutes later Anna comes back with their dinner. “These are for you, enjoy.”

While they eat, Callie’s gaze hovers over a specific painting. It’s colourful, elegant and portrays two people, a mother and a daughter seen from behind, walking hand in hand. The small child is energetically jumping. She immediately thinks of all the times she had lived that scene with Sofia when she was younger. Callie and Sofia speak for a bit, then, when they finish their dinner Anna approaches them again. “Would you like anything else?”  Sofia immediately nods “A vanilla and strawberry ice cream, please”, Callie adds “and a chocolate and dark chocolate one for me. Could we also have some water, please?” “Of course.” Anna comes back to their table with their orders and Sofia and Callie enjoy their desserts. When they stand up and go to pay, Callie’s curiosity gets the best of her “I’m sorry, can I ask you something? Who’s the painter of all the works you have in here?” Anna smiles, she is a local painter, she likes to stay anonymous, but if you want we have some prints of her works in that corner for tourists to buy.” “Okay, we’ll have a look then”. Callie finds the print of the painting she liked so much, while Sofia finds it really hard to choose among all the ones with the animals, finally choosing one with a small Shiba-Inu near the lake. “We’ll take these ones. “Of course, it’s 10$ more for them, 5$ each”.

Callie pays and Anna adds “Thank you for coming here, I hope to see you again in the future”.

Callie and Sofia head back to the car, Callie gets in, but Sofia doesn’t notice a motorbike driving way too fast and gets hit by the mirror of the bike, the driver runs away and Sofia finds herself lying on the street. Callie immediately reaches her, and sighs in relief when she finds out that Sofia hasn’t broken anything, but she does have some cuts in her arms. “Sof! Are you okay” “Yes, Mama, don’t worry, nothing serious.” Callie helps her stand up and checks her again “It looks like a road rash. I’ll take the medkit, let’s wash your wounds and see.”

Unbeknownst to them, a man has seen what happened and walks towards them. “Good morning, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m Steve Callahan, I saw what happened. I’m a volunteer at the local clinic, it’s just two minutes away, why don’t you go there to get her checked? I was on my break, but the doctor is still there” “Oh, no need, thank you. I’m a doctor too.”  “Oh, I see, but please, I insist, the doctor is specialized in paediatrics, I would really feel better if your daughter went to the clinic.” Callie looks at Sofia, who just shrugs. She gives her daughter some gauze to keep on the wounds. “Okay, sir. I will follow you.”

Steve opens the clinic’s door “The doctor prefers to see the patients between 5 and 18 years old alone first.” Callie looks hesitant, she doesn’t really want to let Sofia go alone, but she knows that the doctor can’t legally do anything big without her consent and that it’s probably just a normal procedure. “Is it okay for you, Sof?” Sofia rolls her eyes. “Of course, Mama, it’s nothing big, you said it yourself.”

Steve meanwhile has gone to the doctor’s office to talk about what he had witnessed. He comes back into the waiting room. “Okay, you can go into the exam room, the doc will be there in a minute.”

Sofia walks into the waiting room, clutching the gauzes to her wounds. She notices that there are some other paintings by the same artist as in the café on the walls. Then she notices the door at the end of the room opening and a blonde doctor coming in while saying “Hi, I’m Doctor Robbins, Steve told me what happened…” the doctor lifts her gaze to her and stops talking. Sofia looks at her, trying to understand why she stopped talking. She looked familiar, long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, but she couldn’t place why she looked familiar. She was sure she had never been here.

Arizona stops talking as soon as her eyes meet the patient’s ones. It can’t be. Sofia. My Sofia is here. She shakes her head a bit, realizing she didn’t only stop talking, but even moving. “I’m sorry. As I was saying, I’m Doctor Robbins, Steve told me what happened, I’m really sorry this happened to you, things like this don’t usually happen in our village.” Arizona puts on a pair of gloves. “I’m going to clean your wounds and check them.” “Yeah, sure. My mum is a Doctor, I know how it works.” Arizona feels something in her throat, she keeps it back at the thought of Callie. At the thought that she is about to touch her daughter for the first time in eight years. Sofia is now 14 years old. Also, it was evident that Sofia didn’t recognize her. Her heart dropped She doesn’t know who I am. Arizona, focus! Sofia is hurt and you are a doctor, just do your job. She will probably disappear from your life again in twenty minutes and you won’t see her again. DON’T get attached or you’ll end up hurting even more. Arizona nods and starts cleaning the wounds. Sofia feels safe and cared for, almost like muscle memory, but she doesn’t know why. It’s a strange familiarity, the rhythm of the doctor’s voice, the hyper gentle, almost reverent, touch, it’s like a strange déjà vu that she can’t place. Arizona finishes disinfecting, gauze pressed gently against the scrape. Her hands are steady, her voice calm, but her heart is hammering.

“I’m sorry, but there is this cut here on your forearms that needs some stitches. Nothing big, just two or three, but it would be better to stitch it than to let it heal on its own.” “Okay, you can go on” “I’m sorry, I need your parents’ approval before stitching it.” “Oh, okay… My mother is in the waiting room. Do you really need to tell her? She will worry more…” It sounds like Calliope. Callie, Arizona, she’s Callie to you now. Actually, she is nothing to you, now. “She would notice anyway that I stitched you up, especially if she’s a doctor. Moreover, she’ll want to be here for you. I learned from experience that sometimes being brave means letting people in, even when it feels easier to do it alone.” Sofia studies her. There’s a connection though, she sighs “Okay, if you think it’s better.” Arizona heads to the other door of the exam room, the one that links it with the waiting room. Never in her life have those few steps felt longer. Behind that door she knew she would find Callie. The woman she loved. The woman she loves. The woman she never stopped loving. She takes a steadying breath before opening the door. Her voice professional, but her hand lingering on the handle for a moment too long.

“Mrs. Torres, you can come in now.”

Chapter Text

Arizona takes a steadying breath before opening the door. Her voice professional, but her hand lingering on the handle for a moment too long.

“Mrs. Torres, you can come in now”

The door swings open. Callie steps in, still nervous and full of adrenaline from knowing her daughter is hurt. As soon as she gets in she looks at Sofia, her well-being always at the front of her mind. But then her gaze flickers to the doctor. She freezes. No, it can’t be. Eight years vanish in an instant. The blonde hair, longer than she has ever seen it, those blue eyes that once made her feel safe and infuriated all at once. Callie feels her stomach twist.

Opposite her, Arizona goes very still, her heart pounding, her eyes studying Callie closely, but her body not daring to move even a step forward. She simply straightens, shoulders squared, slipping behind the armour of her professionalism. It’s a patient and I have to inform the parent of her condition. She begins talking, voice calm and steady “Your daughter has a small laceration. I recommend a few stitches to avoid scarring. Nothing serious.” Callie’s eyes widen. She can’t believe the poise and composure the doctor is showing, she stares at her for a beat too long. Her voice hoarse, but so soft when it finally comes. “Arizona?”. The name cracks in the air. Sofia looks up, eyes darting between the two women. “You…, you know each other?” Arizona swallows, she turns her back on them, taking the necessary equipment from the cabinets. Callie shakes off her reverie and steps closer to Sofia. “Sof, sweetie, how are you feeling?” “The disinfectant just burns a bit, nothing major.”

Arizona forces her expression to stay neutral, eyes fixed on her hands as she preps the sutures. Then, gently, she turns to Sofia “Why don’t you hold your mum’s hand while I do this? It’ll make it easier.” Sofia looks between them again, noticing that her mother is the one who is really nervous, so she takes her hand, suspicion and curiosity swirling in her young face. There’s an unmistakable tension, a charge in the room that she doesn’t understand, but can feel. Arizona keeps her hands steady, focusing entirely on Sofia and her own job, as if Callie isn’t right there, her presence threatening to shatter her carefully built world. She snaps on a fresh pair of gloves, her movements efficient but quieter than usual. Callie is rooted to her spot next to Sofia. “Okay sweetheart. Just a couple of tiny stitches. You’ll feel a pinch and then some tugging, but nothing bad. You’re very brave.” Sofia squeezes Callie’s hand, skeptical but trusting. Arizona smiles faintly at that, the kind of smile that once made Callie’s heart skip. She positions the needle. Her touch is feather-light as she stitches the wound. “You’re really gentle.” Callie smiles at that, knowing exactly how talented and passionate Arizona is, especially towards her younger patients. “I try to be.” Callie is silent, watching. Hundreds of memories swirling in her mind. Surgeries, nights, moments when Arizona’s gentleness wasn’t just in her hands, but in how she loved. The sight of her leaning over her daughter, their daughter, is almost unbearable. Arizona continues with slow precision, her voice still low and soothing. “One more stitch and… done. You did amazing, Sofia.”

Sofia peers at her arm, impressed. She moves her arm toward her mum, knowing how protective she can be, guessing she wants to check if the stitches were nicely-done or not. Callie watches for just an instant, nodding immediately. She knows she doesn’t need to check the paediatric surgeon’s work. She knows better than anyone how good she is. Sofia chuckles. “My mum isn’t complaining, so you must be good. Do you do this a lot?” Both women look at each other and blush a bit. Arizona looks at Sofia, chuckling softly, carefully bandaging the wound. “I’ve done this more times than I can count, mostly on kids.” Sofia smiles at that, the beginnings of trust forming. Callie swallows hard, finally stepping closer to Arizona, her voice low and sharp with emotion. “Thank you, Doctor Robbins.”

The formality stings, for both of them. Arizona straightens, gloves stripped away. Mask of professionalism firmly in place. Arizona answers politely. ”You’re welcome, just doing my job.”

For a heartbeat too long, their eyes lock, full of everything unsaid. Sofia watches, puzzled, sensing something very, very big under the surface.

“Okay, kiddo. You’ll need to keep this clean and dry for the next couple of days. No swimming, no rough games until a doctor takes the stitches out. I guess your mum knows enough doctors who can do it.” “No swimming? But it’s summer…” Arizona chuckles softly. “Doctors are no fun, huh?” Sofia giggles, then she nods, seriously. “Okay, Doc.”

Arizona’s chest tightens at that word, but she masks it quickly, peeling off her gloves and tossing them in the bin. She turns to Callie, her tone professional, neutral, every word costing her. “If she feels any increased pain, redness or swelling bring her to a doctor. Otherwise, she’ll be fine.” Callie nods, her jaw tight, her eyes refusing to linger too long on Arizona. “Thank you.” She then hesitates, gently touches Sofia’s shoulder “Sof, could you please wait outside for a second? I want to talk to Doctor Robbins about the bureaucratic part.” Sofia looks at them both, sensing tension, but shrugs and slips out. The door clicks shut. Silence between the two.

Arizona exhales slowly, almost trembling with the effort of restraint. “You weren’t supposed to find me here…”

Callie’s eyes flash, anger, relief, grief, all tangled together.

“Eight years, Arizona. Eight years. And you’re here, in this tiny village in the middle of nowhere…” her voice cracking slightly “treating Sofia like she’s just any other patient.”

Arizona’s composure wavers, her blue eyes glassy for a moment. Then her rage comes out, voice hoarse, but steady. “She’s NOT any other patient!” She swallows, hard. “She’s…everything.”

Callie presses her lips together, fury and longing battling in her chest. The silence stretches until Callie can’t bear it anymore. Her voice is low, but sharp as glass.

“You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to stand here, in a clinic room, after disappearing for EIGHT years and tell me she’s everything.”

Arizona flinches, but doesn’t back down.

“I never DISAPPEARED. You CUT ME OUT, Callie. YOU erased ME."

Callie’s eyes flash.

“You think it was easy for me? You think I wanted to…” she stops herself, voice shaking “I had to protect her.”

Arizona, hurt. “From ME?!” The question lands heavy, a wound reopened. Callie’s eyes fill, but she blinks fast, furious at herself. Callie answers, whispering, trembling. “From the pain, Arizona. From the not-knowing. From the back and forth custody fights, from the, the instability.”

Arizona’s face softens, breaking despite herself. “You think I wanted that for her? That I didn’t bleed every day knowing she was growing up without me? I made mistakes Callie. I know it. But I never stopped being her mother.

Callie shakes her head, unable to meet her eyes. In her mind the months after the plane crash, during the fellowship. Her voice quiet, bitter “Mother isn’t just biology, or memory. Mother is being there.”

The words cut deep. Arizona swallows hard, her eyes glistening, voice trembling but steady.

“I am here. I was always here, in every thought, in every moment, in every research paper, in every goddamn night I stayed awake wondering if she still laughed in her sleep. You just didn’t want to see me.”

The room feels smaller, the weight of eight years pressing in. Callie looks at her, finally, tears threatening, voice low, barely a whisper. “It hurt too much…”

Before Arizona can respond, Sofia’s voice pipes up from the hallway.

“Mum? Are we done?”

Both women freeze. Their eyes lock, full of everything they can’t say yet. Grief, rage, longing, love.

Arizona breaks eye contact and answers for Callie. “Yes. We’re done.”

Callie swallows, straightens and opens the door.

In the same moment, the door of the clinic swings open, startling the three people inside. Steve bursts ins, breathless, his face pale.

“Dr. Robbins! There’s been an accident. A boy got caught in a harvester out by the Morrison’s farm. He’s losing blood fast!”

Arizona’s body shifts instantly. All the previously felt emotions immediately shoved and locked in a box as the surgeon in her takes over. Her eyes sharpen, movements crisp.

Arizona, towards Callie “I have to go.” She snatches her emergency kit from the cabinet, already moving. Steve gestures toward his old pickup truck, rigged with a stretcher and an oxygen tank in the back, their makeshift village ambulance. Callie watches her, stunned for a second. The way Arizona moves like lightning, the way command settles naturally on her shoulders. Something fierce and familiar twists in Callie’s chest. Then her own instincts and medical training come out, too. She suddenly looks at Sofia, voice firm. “Stay here. Wait in the clinic. Don’t move until I come back.” Sofia, wide-eyed “Mum?”, but Callie is already out the door, following Arizona. Arizona hears the footsteps pounding behind her, whirls as she reaches the truck. Then she snaps, incredulous. “Callie, what are you doing? Why are you…” She gets interrupted “I’m a doctor too. And I took an oath to help people. There is an emergency, so I’m going with you.” For half a second, time stops. Arizona stares at her, chest heaving, caught between fury and something dangerously close to relief. Then Steve slams the truck door open, shouting. “We don’t have time!” Arizona clenches her jaw, climbs into the back of the pickup. She looks at Callie, voice sharp but softer than before. “Fine, but follow my lead.” Callie meets her eyes, that fire, adrenaline, that they both know so well sparking alive, nods and climbs in.

The truck lurches forward, gravel spitting under the tires, carrying them both straight into the storm, two surgeons side by side again after eight years. Not as ex-wives, not as enemies, but as healers.

Chapter Text

Steve’s pickup screeches to a stop on the dirt path by the Morrison’s barn. The smell of oil, blood and dust hangs thick in the summer air. A 12-year-old lies on a makeshift stretcher, pale, his leg mangled and soaked in blood. His father and older brother hover, frantic. The boy’s father, panicked “He, he was helping clear the chute and the blade… Oh, God. Please, help him…”

Arizona is already moving, gloves snapped on. “Okay, Dad, step back. You’ve done everything right so far, we’ve got him."

Callie crouches beside her, eyes scanning the wound. “Femoral artery’s compromised. We’ve got maybe five minutes to stabilize before he crashes.”

Arizona glances at her, just a flicker of recognition, then nods. “Pressure now. We’ll clamp it when we’re in the truck.” Without a beat of hesitation, Callie presses down, her hands steady as stone. The boy groans in pain, Arizona’s voice instinctively softens. “Hey John, my name’s Doctor Robbins, we’ve met before at school. This here is Doctor Torres. We’re gonna fix you up. Just stay with us, okay? You’re safe.” The boy’s eyes flutter, but her tone anchors him. Steve and the father lift the stretcher, sliding it into the back of the pickup. Arizona jumps in after it, Callie right beside her. For a moment their shoulders brush, the old rhythm falling into place.

The truck bounces over dirt roads, Arizona barking orders over the roar of the engine. “Clamp!” “On it.” Callie’s hands are already there, exactly where Arizona needs them. Arizona asks “O2 sat?” “Dropping, 86%”. “Push fluids, keep pressure steady.”

Their voices weave seamlessly, instinctual, like no time has passed. Arizona doesn’t have to explain, Callie anticipates her moves, hands already there. Steve watches in the rearview mirror, wide-eyed, muttering to himself “Never seen Robbins move with anyone like that.”

The boy gasps, blood pooling again. Callie presses harder, her jaw set. Callie, her voice low, “If we don’t get him into your OR in the next few minutes…” “Then we make our own OR. Steve, have you called Emily and Michael?” “Yes, right after we arrived at the farm, they should already be at the clinic, scrubbed in and ready for you to begin.” “Thank you, Steve.” Callie looks at her and, for the first time in years, it’s the same Arizona she fell in love with, fearless, brilliant, unshakeable.

Back at the clinic, they storm into the small operating room, Arizona snapping into surgeon-in-command mode. “Hey Emily, hey Mike, sorry to bother you this evening. Did Steve tell you what was going on?” Emily chuckles “No worries Doc, the patients have the priority and John is a classmate of my oldest son.” Arizona nods “Callie, these are my surgical nurse, Emily Carter, and my anaesthesiologist, Dr. Michael Foster, guys, this is Dr. Callie Torres, orthopaedic surgeon. “Nice to meet you both. Let’s do this.”

And just like that, they’re in sync. Arizona leading, Callie counterbalancing, every move sharp, precise. The boy’s vitals wobble, then stabilise as the artery is clamped and the bleeding controlled. Sweat beads Arizona’s brow, but when she finally ties off the last suture and the monitor steadies, she exhales deeply. “We got him.”

Callie looks up at her, and for the first time in eight years, her pride breaks through the anger. “You were always the best.” Arizona meets her eyes, tired, raw, but lit with something old and dangerous: hope.

After the boy has been stabilised, he’s prepped for transfer to Willow Lake Medical Centre for further care. The hum of the generator and the faint chirping of crickets creep back into the night air. Arizona strips off her gloves, tossing them into the biohazard bin and peels off her gown, her breathing still heavy, but her face unreadable. After they both talk with the boy's dad, Callie follows her out the back door, into the cooler evening air. They both lean against the wall, sweat-streaked and exhausted. For a long moment, there’s only silence. Arizona’s gaze drifts toward the dark tree line, refusing to look at her. Callie watches her surroundings, the woods, the lake, the small clinic.

“What the hell are you doing here, Arizona? Living in some tiny village, running a one-room clinic, when you should be…” her voice cracks, but she pushes through “you should be, I don’t know, at Hopkins, or Mayo, or back at Grey Sloan. God, even some big, famous hospital in Europe. Anywhere but… here.”

Arizona says nothing at first. She rubs the back of her neck, jaw tight, her prosthetic leg faintly creaking as she shifts her weight. “I’m where I need to be.” Her voice is quiet, steady, almost clipped. Callie snaps at that, frustrated. “That’s not an answer.” “Well, it’s the only one I have right now.”

Callie stares at her, eyes burning. The fury she’s held for years is there but, underneath it, something else, hurt, confusion, longing. “You were… Doctor Arizona Robbins. You changed the field of fetal surgery. You trained some of the best. You don’t just disappear into the woods and patch up farm accidents. Why?”

Arizona finally turns her head, meeting her eyes for the first time since the surgery. Her blue gaze is piercing but tired, weighted down by years Callie hasn’t seen. “Because sometimes saving lives isn’t about headlines or big OR’s. Sometimes it’s about being exactly where you’re needed. That boy tonight? He doesn’t make it if I’m not here. That’s enough for me.”

The words land, but they don’t soothe. Callie clenches her fists at her sides, staring at her like she’s trying to solve an impossible equation.

Arizona heads back in, Emily ready to go home “There was a young girl in the waiting room. She told me she’s your patient. I told her she could go sleep on the couch in your office, I gave her a blanket.” “Thank you Emily, good night.” Arizona steps back into her office, pauses. Sofia is curled up on the worn leather couch, a blanket draped over her shoulders, breathing deep in her sleep. Arizona’s face softens instantly, though she keeps it hidden when Callie enters behind her.

Arizona, gentle, but steady “Right now she needs a comfortable place to sleep. Wake her up and follow me." “Where exactly are we going?” Arizona shoulders her bag, but doesn’t quite meet Callie’s eyes. “My place.” Callie gets immediately defensive. “We don’t want to bother. We’ll just,,, find  a hotel or a bed and breakfast.” At that, Arizona actually lets out a faint laugh, not mocking, but tired. She turns toward Callie, her gaze steady. “First of all, taking care of my daughter and my daughter’s other mother isn’t a bother. And second, there are no hotels, no b&bs. This is Willowvale. It’s a village, Callie. People pass through, they don’t stay.”

Callie blinks at her, caught between disbelief and something twisting deep in her chest. She glances around the small clinic office, the modest couch, the stacks of charts on the desk, the landscape paintings on the wall. Arizona Robbins, the woman who travelled the world, who lit up every OR she stepped into, who was too brilliant for anyone to contain… lives here? In this nowhere place? She looks back at Arizona, searching her face like the answer might be written there. But Arizona has already couched gently beside the couch, brushing a stray curl from Sofia’s forehead before stepping back, leaving the task to Callie. 

“Wake her. She’ll be more comfortable in a real bed.”

The night is cool and still when Arizona pulls into the gravel drive. Her mind full of thoughts, heart beating hard in her chest. Sofia and Callie are here. Am I really letting them in my house? The piece of world and certainty I built without them? Callie follows behind her, Sofia half-asleep in the passenger seat. She looks around trying to grasp more about where Arizona lives. After a ten minute drive, she sees a small cedar-sided cottage by the lake. Its porch light glows warmly, the house backed by what it looks like pine and birch woods, a narrow gravel driveway leading from the main road to the cottage.

Arizona waits for Callie and Sofia to get out of the car and, the moment she opens the door, a thunder of paws greets them. A massive, white and impossible gentle Great Pyrenees barrels toward them first. He lets out a deep woof, tail swishing like a metronome, protective, but instantly calm when he sees Arizona. He sniffs the air, then noses softly at Sofia’s dangling hand. A Bernese mountain dog follows, more exuberant, tail wagging furiously, practically trying to climb into Callie’s space to get a better look at the guest. His big brown eyes lock on Sofia and he lets a happy whine, leaning his heavy head against her arm. Darting between their legs like a little fox there’s a small Shiba Inu. She tilts her head, ears perked, then circles Callie twice. Then, as if remembering her manners, goes back to Arizona to check if she’s allowed to greet the other people.

Arizona immediately crouches down to greet them, the dogs barrelling towards her. “Hi troupe of mine. Yeah, I know, I’ve been away far too long, did you miss me guys? We have guests tonight, so be gentle and on your best behaviour, got it?” The three dogs bark once at her, as if  to say that they understood and go back inside. From the stairs, a big grey Maine Coon appears like a shadow, slow and regal. She stretches languidly, then pads down with calculated grace, her tail flicking once. She doesn’t rush, she simply sits by the doorway, luminous yellow eyes studying Callie with suspicion, then turns to Sofia. She turns back inside, hops onto the arm of a chair and watches, her purr rumbling softly. Arizona getting closer and petting her “Did you miss me too, my majesty?”

Callie freezes in the entryway, momentarily overwhelmed by the chaos of fur, paws and tails. She takes a look of the inside. The house is simple, cozy, a mix of modern functionality and personal touches, a lot of bookshelves of different sizes and plants scattered everywhere. Is this really the place she disappeared to?

Chapter Text

Is this really the place she disappeared to? Callie thought. Then, murmuring “You have a whole zoo here.” Arizona shrugs lightly “They’re my family.” She gestures toward the living room, where a quilt is already folded neatly on the couch. As the door closes behind them, the cottage feels alive with fur and quiet energy.

Arizona gives a small introduction of the pets. “So, the big white guy is Aspen, the gigantic ball of fur is Bramble and that little fox there is Miso. The queen of the house is her majesty Solstice.” All the dogs bark when introduced. “Troupe, these are Callie and Sofia”, Arizona says, pointing at the two women, the pets watching her and letting her know they understood.

Aspen then plants himself squarely between Arizona and Callie, chest broad, tail lowered but steady. His brown eyes flick back and forth between the two women. He’s not aggressive, he doesn’t growl or show his teeth, but his presence is a clear barrier, a silent signal to Callie that he’s watching her. When Callie shifts closer to Arizona, Aspen subtly leans forward, a protective wall of white fur.

Bramble is warmer, tail still thumping against the furniture as he noses at Sofia. But, glancing at Callie first, then at Arizona, he senses the undercurrent. His happy demeanour dims for moments here and there, but he mostly presses against Arizona’s leg like he’s grounding her.

Arizona notices, of course. She bends down, giving them both slow strokes along their heads, murmuring quietly “It’s okay, boys. She’s not a stranger.” Bramble relaxes completely, Aspen just slightly, his eyes never leaving Callie. He lingers close to Arizona’s side like a shadow. Callie feels it instantly; the big white dog’s gaze makes her stiffen. She had expected barking, maybe excitement, but not a quiet, watchful judgement. “Guess I don’t exactly pass the vibe check…” Arizona doesn’t answer, just gives a shrug and heads deeper into the house. Bramble follows loyally, while Aspen lingers a beat longer, staring at Callie, before padding after his owner. Callie’s throat tightens. Even Arizona’s dogs can feel the fracture between them. And somehow, it makes the silence heavier.

“Wait here in the living room. I’ll get the studio ready for you.”

Sofia, still half-asleep, curls against Callie on the couch. Bramble chooses to sprawl at their feet, tail lazily thumping, while Miso hops up next to Sofia, pressing close like a warm guardian. Arizona disappears down the short hall with Aspen and Solstice padding beside her.

The studio smells faintly of linseed and paper, her artist’s space. Arizona kneels, pulling out the folded sofa bed. Aspen watches her closely, always keeping himself between her and the door, Solstice leaps gracefully to a shelf, curling there, golden eyes following Arizona’s every move. When the mattress is spread and the sheets smoothed, Arizona turns to the paintings stacked by the wall. She bites her lip, heart tight. Those paintings, the ones beside the sofa, those are the private ones, and they can’t be left in plain sight. Her hands shake slightly, as she pulls one free, cloth ready to cover it.

In the quiet living room, Callie sits restlessly. Bramble shifts against her leg, and Miso dozes on Sofia’s lap. But Callie’s eyes keep flicking down the hall. Ten minutes. Too long. She rises carefully, brushing Sofia’s curls, and pads down the hallway. When she reaches the studio doorway, she’s met immediately by a wall of white fur. Aspen stands broad and immovable in the doorframe, tail stiff, brown eyes locked on her. He doesn’t growl, but his presence and stance are enough, a silent warning. Still, from her angle, Callie can see past him. And in that instant, her breath catches.

Arizona is standing there, canvas in her hands and, on it, Callie recognizes herself instantly. The painting portraying her younger self, mid-laugh, spatula in hand, bathed in a soft light in the kitchen of their old apartment, a version of herself she hasn’t seen in years, alive on the canvas like time had never passed. For a moment, the world narrows to just that sight, Arizona holding onto her, painted in strokes of longing and memory.

Callie’s voice is low, disbelieving, halfway between accusation and awe. “You paint?”

Arizona, caught mid-motion with the canvas in her hands, looks up. Their eyes lock. Her face is a storm of emotions she’s tried to bury for eight long years, she freezes, a sharp pain in her chest. Aspen presses harder into the doorway, as though he knows that what lies between them is fragile and dangerous.

“I picked it up again after I left Seattle, after everything. It was… easier than words.” Arizona’s voice soft, almost apologetic.

“I never knew. You never… Arizona, you never said a word. You hated crafts. Wait…again?”

“I used to, back in high school. Then med school happened and there was no space for anything that wasn’t medicine. Surgery was my art. Surgery was all I had. Then, when I lost you, when I lost her, my emotions had to go somewhere.” She gestures vaguely around the studio, the canvases leaning against the walls, the faint smell of oils, the photographs tucked half-hidden on the desk and among the paintings. “It all went here.”

Callie takes a breath, torn between anger and heartbreak. Her eyes dart from the canvas, herself immortalised, to Arizona’s trembling hands, then back to the dog standing guard.

“And… you have been painting…us?”

Arizona whispers. “Yes. Always you… Always her…”

The silence stretches, filled only by the sound of Solstice’s low purr from the shelf and the soft hum of night insects outside the window. Callie blinks, shaking her head, confused and almost angry. “You never told me. Not once. Years together, married, and you never…”

Arizona cuts her off. “It wasn’t me anymore, it was a part of my past. A part of me that had died before med school, before Tim, before everything… When we were together, I had a notebook, you know my passion for lists and order… in some of the pages I used to sketch a bit… you, Sofia, us. Stupid, quick things I’d do after shifts. But it felt private, too private, I never showed anyone…”. Her hand drifts to a drawer half-open on the studio desk, where a worn leather notebook peeks out, edges ruined from years of use. Callie follows Arizona’s gaze and she immediately recognises the notebook. She never opened it, she knew Arizona took notes in it, but she thought it was just to-do lists or small notes on daily activities or something to do at work. If I only I had opened it. She really wanted to say something, but Arizona was opening up to her, even if slightly, for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, and she was forcing herself to listen.

“When I moved here, I opened it again. And those sketches… I started turning them into paintings.”

The canvas still in her hand trembles slightly as she holds it, as if she’s finally admitting to something she’s hidden for far too long. Callie’s breath catches. She looks from the notebook to the painting. She thinks she remembers the day, the meal they were making, the sound of Arizona’s voice. Her voice is barely a whisper “So you kept us alive. In this…”

Arizona swallows and nods once, her signature move that indicated that she had just decided what to say. “It was the only way I knew how.” Aspen shifts, his body still barring Callie’s entry, as if protecting Arizona’s secret.

For a long moment, Callie doesn’t breathe, she thought she knew Arizona Robbins, the brilliant, rational surgeon who never let emotion compromise her hands. The marine’s daughter who built walls of discipline and optimism, who smiled when she was bleeding inside. That woman didn’t paint, didn’t sketch, didn’t secretly fill notebooks with pieces of her family. And yet, here it is. Arizona is here. Standing in the soft light of a small studio in the middle of nowhere, holding a painting of a memory of the past, of their past life. How could she hide this from me? How could she keep this tender, messy, beautiful part of herself and never let me see it? Her chest tightens. Beneath the shock, something else stirs… guilt. Because it hits her like a wave. Arizona painted them, painted her. Arizona had been sketching memories, preserving moments Callie barely remembers and all of this is starting to feel like a wound. “You kept us alive in here, While I…” But she can’t finish, the words catch in her throat. She looks away, ashamed, because she knows what she did. She shut Arizona out, she pretended she never existed, for Sofia’s sake, or at least that is what she told herself. But now Callie is starting to see the truth. Arizona never disappeared. Years together, shootings, car and plane crashes, a life together. And I never knew her at all.

Arizona sets the painting gently against the wall, not meeting her gaze, her shoulders tense as if bracing for judgement. Aspen remains firmly planted at the doorway. Arizona walks closer to Callie, lowers her hand, resting it gently on his thick fur. “It’s alright, Aspen. You can let her in.” The massive dog hesitates, eyes flicking from Callie to Arizona, then finally steps aside, though his body still lingers protectively close to her human. Arizona turns and, before Callie can speak, she reaches out, a feather light touch to Callie’s shoulder, the contact freezes Callie mid-breath.

“It’s late tonight. If you want, we can talk tomorrow. Take Sofia to bed, it has been a long day for her. The linens are clean, towels in the bathroom. You can both get some sleep. I’ll go have a walk with the dogs.”

Callie frowns. “At this hour? Isn’t it too late to walk in the woods?”

Arizona lets out a small smile. “I’m used to it and the dogs will protect me.” At her feet Aspen is already alert, Bramble stretches and rises, tail wagging, Miso is bouncing toward the door with pent-up energy. Arizona steps toward the door, pulling her jacket from the hook. She pauses and glances back, her gaze softening when it lands on the cat. “Solstice, the house is in your hands.” The Maine Coon blinks slowly, regal and watchful, following Callie as if accepting the duty. Arizona then glances at her ex-wife. “Goodnight, Callie.”

Callie stands frozen for a moment, her mind still on the painting. She wants to demand an explanation, but the weight of Arizona’s quiet boundaries holds her tongue. She turns toward Sofia’s sleeping form on the couch, not being able to stop her thoughts.

What have you been hiding from me, Arizona?

Chapter Text

The night outside is crisp, filled with the scent of pine and lake water. Arizona pulls her jacket tighter around her shoulders, the gravel crunching softly under her boots as she steps onto the path that winds from her cottage toward the trees. Aspen immediately takes point, his massive white form glowing faintly under the moonlight, moving ahead with slow, deliberate steps; Bramble lumbers at Arizona’s side, occasionally brushing against her hip as if to remind her she isn’t alone; Miso darts in zig-zags, nose to the ground, chasing shadows only she can see.

Arizona breathes deeply, the kind of inhale that feels like it might cleanse something lodged too deep in her chest. Her thoughts, however, are anything but calm. Callie. Sofia. Here. For eight years she had imagined what it would be like, rehearsed it, dreaded it, longed for it, but never once had she pictured them showing up in her village, stepping into her clinic, Sofia bleeding just enough to need her hands, to need her help.

She crouches by the path, feeling the need for a little comfort from her furry babies. She lets Miso bounce into her lap for a moment, the little Shiba nosing her chin before wriggling away again. Bramble leans his weight against her, steady as a boulder. Aspen, from a few steps ahead, turns his great head back toward her, eyes solemn. Arizona whispers to the dogs. “I can’t fall apart now. Not in front of them. Not in front of her.” Aspen pads back, pressing his head into her shoulder. Arizona rests her forehead against his fur, eyes burning with unshed tears.

The woods are silent except for the dogs’ breathing and the faint rustle of branches in the night wind. She tilts her head up, staring through the trees at the slice of moon and the stars above. She’s still the same, she’s also completely different. And Sofia, my baby girl… Her chest aches, sharp and unbearable. She presses a hand against her sternum, grounding herself, then pushes back to her feet, thinking about everything she has learned in therapy. “Okay. One step at a time. Tonight is for breathing. Tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll face it.”

Aspen lets out a low, approving rumble, as if sealing a promise. The three dogs fall into formation again: Aspen leading, Bramble steady by her side, Miso darting joyfully ahead. Together, they guide her back to the cottage, back toward the home where ghosts of her past now sleep under her roof.

The first light of dawn spills over the lake, mist curling low on the water. Arizona has already been awake for hours, her hands are damp with dew from watering the garden, the earthy smell of basil and tomatoes clinging to her skin. The chickens cluck softly as she scatters feed, Maple pecking at her boot while Clover and Junebug fight over the same kernel of corn. The dogs trot happily around her as she finishes, Aspen stately and protective, Bramble wagging slow and steady, and Miso darting like a spark of energy. With a soft whistle, she leads them to the lake’s edge. The glassy water mirrors the pale sky, and Arizona lets herself breathe, inhaling the quiet before the storm she knows the day will bring.  When she finally returns to the cottage, the sun is climbing higher. She pauses at the edge of the porch, surprised.

“Your really do this every morning, huh? Chickens, garden, dogs, lake. I guess I should’ve known you’d still be an early bird.” “Someone’s got to keep them all alive. And…. Yeah, it helps me breathe. I like starting the day with them.” Callie tilts her head, a flicker of amusement sparking through the heaviness in her tone. “You got your chickens after all.” Arizona lets out a quiet laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “They’re good company. Don’t talk back too much.”

She steps into the cottage to drop her gloves by the sink, and that’s when she sees it: a mug on the table, steam curling up from its surface. The exact shade of caramel-brown coffee she used to drink. Sweetened, but not too sweet. Just the way Callie always made it for her. For a moment, Arizona just stands there, staring. Her throat tightens as her hand wraps around the mug. She doesn’t say anything, she can’t. Instead, she carries it outside, careful, deliberate, and lowers herself into the chair beside Callie on the porch. The dogs settle at her feet, Aspen nearest to Arizona, Miso pressed against her leg, Bramble circling once before dropping with a sigh. The silence stretches, but it isn’t empty. It’s filled with memory, with things unsaid, with a fragile kind of peace. Arizona sips from the cup, her eyes drifting the lake. Her eyes flicker to Callie a few times, the brunette’s eyes also set on the lake. Her therapist’s words come to her mind: Speak. Don’t overthink. Especially if what you want to say is harmless, don’t keep it inside.  “Thanks… for the coffee.” Her voice is steady, but inside she feels everything trembling. Callie doesn’t look at her directly, but there’s the faintest smile playing on her lips. “Of course, I still remember how you take it.” The weight of those words hangs between them, warm and sharp all at once.

The quiet between them lingers, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the chickens clucking faintly in the distance. The steam from their mugs curls upward, fading into the morning air. Then, the screen door creaks open. Sofia steps out, her hair tousled from sleep, her oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder. She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand and squints against the early light. Arizona studies her. How much she has grown, she’s not the 6 year-old she lost all those ears ago, she is looking more and more like a woman, a beautiful, strong woman.

“Mama? Where are we?” Callie straightens immediately, her protective instinct kicking in. She sets her coffee down and beckons her daughter closer. “We’re still in Willowvale, mija. Remember? You fell asleep at the clinic, we stayed the night here. How is your arm?” “It’s just a little sore, the stitches aren’t really comfortable, but all in all, it could be worse.” “Okay, if you think you need something for the pain, just tell me.” Sofia nods, then she notices movement at her feet. Bramble rises first, his massive frame lowering back down as his tail thumps against the wood. Miso, unable to contain herself, darts forward with an excited yap, pawing lightly at Sofia’s leg. Aspen watches carefully, his eyes on Arizona, waiting for her cue. Sofia freezes for a second, then, her curiosity overcomes her hesitation. “Dogs…” She kneels down, letting Bramble nuzzle into her shoulder while Miso wriggles with glee. Her giggles spill out, pure and unguarded, a sound that makes Callie’s lips curve into a smile she can’t hold back. From the porch railing, Solstice leaps gracefully down, tail high, and pads closer, she circles Sofia once, then hops into her lap with the entitlement only a cat could manage. Sofia’s eyes go wide. Arizona, still sitting beside Callie, watches quietly. Her hand grips her mug a little tighter, the warmth grounding her while her chest feels like it might cave in. She doesn’t move, doesn’t intrude, she knows the moment belongs to Callie and Sofia.

Callie strokes Sofia’s hair as the girl laughs at Solstice kneading against her shirt. Callie, teasing “Careful, if you sit too long, she’ll claim you forever.”

Arizona finally speaks, her tone soft, careful not to break the fragile morning peace. “You were pretty sleepy last night. The queen sitting on your lap is Solstice, the dogs are Aspen, Bramble and Miso. They like to pick who they trust. Looks like you passed the test.” Sofia glances up at her, curiosity flickering in her eyes, but instead of a question, she just nods and returns her attention to the animals. Arizona lowers her eyes fixed on the lake, as though afraid of meeting anyone’s stare for too long.

Sofia leans against Bramble, giggling as Miso wriggles into her lap despite Solstice’s regal protest. She looks around the porch, the lake beyond shimmering in the morning light, and then back at Arizona “Did you build this house?” “Arizona shakes her head gently, lips curving into a faint smile. “No, it was already here, but I fixed it up, made it mine, I guess. It’s old, older than me, even.”

“And the animals? Did you name them all?” “Mh-mh, Aspen, Bramble and Miso were rescues. Solstice, well, we rescued each other. She showed up one winter night and never left and I really needed both her love and her attitude.” Arizona looks at them. “ They’re good judges of character. They know who is kind. Oh and the girls there are called Maple, Clover and Junebug.” “You have chickens? Can I see them?” “You can. Fair warning though, Maple thinks she’s in charge of the whole place.” Sofia grins wide, the kind of grin that crinkles her eyes, and hops to her feet. She skips a few steps toward the coop before stopping, turning back to Arizona with a curious tilt of her head. “You seem like someone who should have chickens. Like, it fits…” Arizona chuckles “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Callie watches the exchange with her chest tight. Arizona isn’t pushing, isn’t overstepping. She’s answering like any neighbour, any doctor, might when a curious girl asks questions. And yet, there’s something in the way Arizona looks at Sofia, too careful, too reverent, too much like love.

After a bit Sofia studies her again, more intently this time, her brow furrowing as though piecing together a puzzle she didn’t know she was working on. She chews her lip, then blurts out.

“You look… familiar…”

The words hang in the air. Callie stiffens in her chair, heart pounding. Arizona’s breath catches, she doesn’t move, doesn’t dare say anything. Slowly, she lets her gaze flick toward Callie, her blue eyes heavy with a question, with restraint. She waits. Because this isn’t her choice to make. Not anymore.

Callie feels Sofia’s eyes shift between them, searching for an answer. Her throat goes dry. Arizona stays utterly still, letting the silence stretch, refusing to betray Callie’s lead, though her entire being aches to say something, anything. Her fingers tighten around her cup. She looks at Callie, waiting. The decision, the truth, is hers.

Then Sofia asks, almost whispering. “Did I meet you before?”

Chapter Text

Sofia’s question hangs in the morning air, fragile but piercing.

“Did I meet you before?”

At those words, Arizona’s heart thunders, but she doesn’t move. Her eyes are fixed on Callie, her silence deliberate. She won’t steal this moment. Not from her. Callie swallows hard, staring into her daughter’s face. The innocence, the curiosity, and the shadow of recognition she’d prayed would never surface. She feels Arizona’s eyes on her, steady but patient, waiting. For a long moment, Callie doesn’t speak.  The only sounds are the chickens clucking softly in their coop and Aspen’s deep breath as he settles by the porch steps. This is the last moment she has to choose what to do, to lie or be honest. Finally, Callie exhales, voice low and trembling at the edges. “Yeah, Sof…  you did.”

Sofia’s brows knit. “When?”

Callie glances briefly at Arizona, then back at her daughter. Her chest tightens as though the weight of eight years is pressing down all at once. “When you were little. Before we moved to New York, when we lived in Seattle. You knew her.”

Sofia looks back at Arizona, eyes widening, searching her face as if the pieces are sliding into place. Arizona gives her the softest smile, her eyes bright and warm, but she still doesn’t say a word. She lets Callie lead. Sofia studies the blonde carefully. “I did know you. How?” Arizona’s throat burns. She blinks fast, keeping her expression tender, safe, never overwhelming, but with a storm in her mind and heart. Callie starts talking again, gentle but firm, leaning toward Sofia. “There’s more I need to tell you, Sof. Things I should have told you a long time ago.”

Sofia glances between them, confusion mixing with a strange spark of familiarity, as though the lines of her life are beginning to redraw themselves. She gets back onto the porch again, understanding the importance of the conversation from her mother’s tone, but lays on the porch rail opposite the two women, her eyes still locked on Arizona. Arizona feels the words threatening to spill, but she swallows them back. She can’t, this isn’t hers to tell. After a few minutes in which Callie doesn’t say anything, she draws a slow breath and rises slightly from her chair, brushing her palms against her jeans. “Maybe, maybe this isn’t the place. Conversations like this should happen at the right time, in the right way. I can give you space…” But before she can take a step, Callie’s voice cuts through the quiet. “No.” Arizona freezes. Callie’s eyes meet hers across the porch, dark, intense, almost pleading. For a moment she doesn’t say anything more, just lets Arizona see it. The raw desperation, the years of silence pressing down on her, the fear of losing control of this moment.

When Arizona doesn’t move, Callie speaks again, her voice low but urgent, almost pleading. “Don’t go. Not now. Please. I… I can’t do this on my own. Not this.” Arizona hesitates, torn between instinct and emotion. Her gaze flickers to Sofia, who is watching them both closely, confusion etched across her young face. “Callie…” “Stay. Just… stay.” For a long second, Arizona simply looks at her.

Sofia looks between them, sensing something big, something heavy. The porch feels smaller now, the morning air heavier, as though the whole village has paused to listen.

With a small nod, Arizona sinks back into her chair, her hands folded tightly in her lap, to still their trembling, but then she feels a soft, familiar weight press against her. Solstice, with her thick plume of a tail, leaps gracefully onto her lap, curling there with the certainty of a guardian. Aspen comes to sit at her feet, broad head resting against her knee. Bramble eases closer, leaning protectively near her side. Even Miso trots up, circling once before settling right at her boots. The message is clear. We’re here. You’re not alone. Your family is with you. Arizona’s fingers sink into Solstice’s fur almost instinctively, drawing comfort from the purr rumbling against her palm.

Across from her, Callie watches. Something flickers in her expression, a pang of recognition at how Arizona’s animals respond to her pain. She swallows, then turns to Sofia.

“Sof, you said she looks familiar.” Sofia nods, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Yeah. Like, I don’t know, like I’ve seen her before, not just in passing.” Arizona’s heart feels like it’s cracking open, but she stays silent, fingers stroking Solstice, waiting. Callie exhales shakily. Her eyes dart to Arizona, just for a second, enough to see the pain, then back to her, their, daughter. “There’s something I’ve never told you. About when you were little. About…us.” Sofia tilts her head, confusion deepening. “Us?” Callie nods slowly, her hands tightening around her coffee mug. Her voice trembles, but she pushes through. “You know your dad was Mark. That’s true. But you had…” Her voice breaks, she has to pause. Arizona feels every word like a blade, but she keeps still, anchored only by the warmth of Solstice and the dogs pressed against her. Then Callie resumes. “You had another parent too. Someone who was there the day you were born, who saved you the day you were born, who loved you more than anything. Someone who probably never stopped.” Sofia’s eyes widen, darting instinctively toward Arizona, then back to Callie. “Her?” The single word hangs in the air, fragile as glass. Arizona’s breath hitches. Callie closes her eyes for a beat, as to collect her strength, then opens them again and nods. “Yes. Arizona.”

The name lands between them like an old song. Sofia stares at Arizona, really seeing her now. Arizona feels the sting of tears, but forces herself to stay calm, her hand never leaving Solstice’s back.

“She’s my mother?”

Arizona closes her eyes, waiting, always waiting for Callie to decide how much truth Sofia can bear right now. Callie’s lips part, trembling, but no sound comes out at first. Arizona can see her struggling, fighting the weight of years of silence and choices that pulled them apart.

“Ye…, yeah. Yes. She’s your mum too.”

Sofia blinks, wide-eyed, the word turning over in her mins, trying to make sense of what she has just learned. “But… But you never, you never said… You always said that it was just the two of us. Just you and me. Abuelo, when he’s free, and dad, Mark, who’s dead. Just… I don’t understand…”

Callie’s face crumples at that, but she forces herself to meet her daughter’s eyes.

“I know, mija, I know I told you that. And… and I shouldn’t have.” She glances at Arizona, whose eyes are staring at the lake, the conversation probably being too much for her to handle. “You had another mum. You have another mum. A mommy, actually. She was there for everything, your first steps, your first words. She loved you with her whole heart.”

Sofia stares at Arizona again, her brows furrowed, trying to reconcile the image of the gentle doctor who had stitched her up the day before with this revelation. Arizona swallows hard, stroking Solstice absently. She doesn’t dare speak. Her chest is tight with things unsaid. I never wanted to leave. I painted you every day just to remember the curve of your smile. I counted birthdays by myself. But once again, she doesn’t let any of it out. This moment belongs to Callie and Sofia. Sofia deserves to learn the truth from the person she grew up with.

“Then… where were you? If you’re my mum, where were you all this time?”

Arizona sighs heavily, those words like knives in her heart. She grips Solstice tighter and Aspen presses his head against her knee as if to stop her from standing, from running. She wants to answer, to throw herself into the space between them and cry I was here, waiting, always waiting. But she bites down on the inside of her cheek, letting Callie answer,

Callie’s voice breaks. “That’s on me, Sof… Not her. She…she wanted to be there. She tried. I was the one who…” She looks away, not capable of watching Sofia in the eyes and definitely not able to look Arizona in her eyes. “I’m the one who made it so she couldn’t be…” “Why?” Callie hesitates, her eyes glistening as she glances at Arizona. There’s guilt in her stare, layered with something else, something Arizona knows too well but doesn’t dare name out loud.

“Because I was scared, Sof. Because I thought it would be easier. For you. For me. But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong.”

Arizona feels her own throat tighten. Her heart is pounding so loudly she’s sure the dogs can hear it. She’s saying it, After all this years, she’s finally saying it.

“You lied to me. Mama. Is that true, at least? Can I still call you mama?”

Callie flinches, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Sof… I know. I’m sorry, mija. I thought I was protecting you. But I wasn’t. I was wrong.”

Arizona looks at Sofia then, really looks. She wants to reach for her, to tell her that none of this was Sofia’s fault, that she never stopped loving her. But she waits, trapped in silence, letting mother and daughter navigate the storm she’s been exiled from for years.

Sofia’s gaze flicks back to Arizona. Her voice is unsteady, caught between suspicion, confusion, anger. “Why aren’t you saying anything?! You’re just sitting here…”

Arizona freezes. Her mouth opens, then closes again. She glances at Callie, her eyes saying everything she doesn’t dare put into words. This isn’t mine to answer unless you want me to. You’ve kept this silence for eight years, If I speak, I break it.

Callie’s breath hitches. For a second, she looks caught, like she wants to shield Sofia again, to keep holding the dam in place. But then her gaze shifts between them. Her daughter’s raw confusion, Arizona’s trembling restraint and something inside her relents. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Callie gives a small nod. A permission. A release. Arizona nods back, once, shakily. Then she turns her eyes to Sofia. She tries to conjure Doctor Robbins in her mind, not mommy, not Arizona. Her voice quiet but steady, the kind she uses in the operating room when the stakes are high.

“I haven’t spoken because… I didn’t want to confuse you. I didn't know if you wanted to hear me. Or if your mum wanted me to. But, Sofia…if you want me to speak, I will.” Her fingers curl into Solstice’s fur again. Grounding herself, because the next words feel like leaping off a cliff. “I’m not a stranger. I was there when you were born. I held you before almost anyone else. I rocked you to sleep, I sang to you, I watched you grow. I was your mum. I am your mum.” Her voice falters just slightly, her eyes flicking again to Callie, but then she forces herself to hold Sofia’s gaze. “And I never stopped loving you. Not for one second. Even when I couldn’t see you, even when I couldn’t be there… I never stopped.”

The patio is silent but for the soft breathing of the dogs and the low rumble of Solstice’s purr. Sofia swallows, staring at her, not rejecting, not accepting, but trying to piece together this new truth that rewrites everything she has been told. Sofia blinks once, twice. The words hang in the air like smoke she can’t breathe through. “What?” Her eyes dart between Callie and Arizona, searching for an anchor. But all she sees is her mum staring at the floor and this woman, the doctor with soft hands and softer eyes, claiming to be her mother. Her brows knit, her voice raising.

“That doesn’t make sense. You can’t be my mum. I already have a mum!” She points at Callie. “And I had a dad. Mark. That’s it. That’s all.”

Her voice cracks at the edges, because a part of her knows she’s shouting more to convince herself than them. Arizona doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. Her hands stay where they are, one on Solstice, one clutching her left thigh, to keep it from shaking, to keep it from hurting.

Sofia gets slightly angrier, but her voice comes out shaking. “Mom, why would you… why did you lie to me?” And then the tears come, quick, hot, furious tears that she tries to blink away because she is not a little kid anymore, but the truth burns anyway.

At the sight of the young girl crying, her mothers’ eyes start filling with tears. Callie’s sobbing too. Arizona, even though with wet cheeks, chest caving at the sight, is still trying to maintain more composure. She doesn’t speak, not until she knows Callie will let her. She glances again at Callie, eyes full of pain and unspoken words. This is the cost of your silence. She deserves the truth.

Chapter Text

Sofia slowly slides down, crouching on the porch, hugging her knees up against her chest, as if trying to fold into herself. Not pushing Arizona away, but not ready to welcome her in her life either. Stuck in a limbo of doubt. She bites her lip, eyes narrowing at Arizona, not in hostility, but in sharp, desperate curiosity.

“If it’s true, why didn’t you say something before? Because… you look at me like you know me. So… why didn’t you come find me?”

Arizona takes a slow breath, her hands still on Solstice’s fur to keep them from shaking. She leans forward slightly, her voice quiet, reverent, as if every word carried weight. “You’re right to ask me that. You deserve to ask me that.” She glances at Callie, just long enough for Sofia to notice, then looks back at her daughter, her blue eyes steady, though wet with tears. “I never stopped wanting to be with you, Sofia. Not for a second. But… it wasn’t my choice. The court decided. And then…” Her voice falters, she swallows hard, trying to find the best words to say the truth without hurting anyone there. “Your mum made it clear that the best way I could love you was… was to stay away…” As soon as she sees that Sofia is looking angrily at Callie, she keeps talking. “And… I wanted you to have stability. I wanted you to grow up without people fighting over you. So, I didn’t come looking…even though I thought about it every day.”  She hesitates, then adds. “I know it sounds impossible right now, that I must feel like a stranger to you. But, Sofia, you’ve always been my daughter. Always. Every painting in this house, every photograph I’ve taken, every step I take here in this village…I did it with you in my heart.” Arizona exhales shakily, then lets the silence linger, giving Sofia space to feel whatever she was rightfully feeling, not pressing, not demanding, just waiting.

Sofia shifts a bit, her arms still crossed tight against her chest, but her eyes linger on Arizona now in a way they hadn’t before. There’s a flicker of recognition, not memory, but something deeper, instinctive. “You really sound like you mean it…” She chews her lip, searching Arizona’s face like she’s trying to catch a lie, not finding one. “It just… it feels so weird, because you feel familiar, but I can’t really remember…” Her gaze flicks sharply toward Callie then, her voice sharpening. “Why didn’t you tell me? You always said it was just you and me. You and me and Mark, who died. That was the story. So why, why hide her from me?” Her voice cracks, not with anger alone, but with hurt, betrayal, Her voice trembles, part demand, part confession.

Callie’s throat tightens at Sofia’s words. Her eyes drop to her hands, fingers digging into the porcelain of her coffee cup, before she finally forces herself to look at her daughter. Then she speaks, almost whispering. “I… I thought I was protecting you.” Sofia’s eyes widen, her expression sharpening, but Callie pushes on, her voice rough with honesty.

“When things ended between Arizona and me… it wasn’t clean. It wasn’t simple, but for some time we made it work. Then I got with Penny, do you remember her?” Sofia nods, having just a few memories of her mother’s redhead girlfriend, they had been together for no more than two years in New York. “We were still in Seattle at the time, but Penny got a grant and had to move to New York. I wanted to go with her and I wanted you to come with me. Arizona fought me tooth and nail to keep you in Seattle, with her, with your friends, in your old school. The judge decided to give me sole custody, so we went to New York. At the time I was so angry at how Arizona fought me. I was hurt because she didn’t want you to be with me, and I only saw my side, when she was probably feeling the same. So, after we left Seattle I…” Her voice breaks a little. “I made choices I thought would keep life… easier for you, simpler. I told myself you didn’t need the mess. You didn’t need to be pulled between two mums living on opposite sides of the country.” Her chest rises and falls quickly. “But I was wrong. I see that now. I took away something that was yours. I erased her… and I shouldn’t have. Not from your story. Not from your life.” Her eyes flick to Arizona for the briefest moment, guilt crashing through them, before she focuses on Sofia again. “I’m so sorry, Sof. I thought I was doing the right thing, but… I see now that I wasn’t.”

Sofia shifts a bit, as if absorbing the punch those words felt against her, arms still crossed over her chest like an armour. “So, for the last eight years, I’ve been living a lie? You just, decided I didn’t need to know my own mother?” Her voice cracks, not with anger, but with disbelief. She turns to Arizona. “And you? You knew? That she wasn’t telling me?” Arizona meets her gaze, her lips parting, she doesn’t speak, she only glances at Callie and then shakes her head. That makes Sofia snap at Callie. “UNBELIEVABLE! You always told me to trust you. To believe you. And now…” She shakes her head, biting her lip hard to stop it from trembling. “How am I supposed to believe anything?”. There is anger, but no full rage yet, just the sharp edge of doubt cutting through every word. She presses her palm to her temple, as if the weight of it all is too much to hold. Her eyes glisten, but she blinks quickly, refusing to let the tears fall. “Was there ever a time you weren’t lying to me?”

Arizona’s chest tightens, she sees the way Callie flinches, the way Sofia’s doubt cuts deeper than any scalpel ever could. And before she can stop herself, her instinct kicks in, she leans forward, her voice low but steady. “Sofia… your mum wasn’t trying to hurt you. Back then I was… I was broken. I had lost so much, I wasn’t myself. Maybe she thought keeping me away was the safest option for you. For her. For… everyone.” Her words tremble, the truth of her own brokenness still stinging even after all these years. She lowers her eyes, almost ashamed.

But Callie immediately shakes her head, her tone sharp, not cruel, but raw.

“DON’T! Don’t do that, Arizona! Don’t make excuses for me. You don’t get to carry the blame I put on my own shoulders.” Her dark eyes glisten as she looks at Arizona, almost angry at her for still trying to shield her after everything. “She’s right though about one thing. I really thought I was protecting you. But I wasn’t. I was protecting myself. I couldn’t deal with… with seeing her, with what I still felt. And instead of being brave, I made you pay for it.”

Arizona swallows hard, torn between relief that Callie is admitting the truth and guilt for having opened that door. Sofia looks at both of them, her brow furrowed, confusion and hurt fighting for space with a flicker of curiosity, like maybe there’s more to the story she hasn’t seen yet. Sofia’s gaze lingers on Arizona, steady but wary. “So… what were you? Back then, I mean. Before you… disappeared?”

Arizona draws in a long breath, her fingers resting tightly on Solstice’s fur, grounding herself. “I was your mum. I was there when you learned to walk, I sang to you when you couldn’t sleep. I carried you through the hospital hallways and told you stories. I… I loved you, Sofia. With everything I had. And then, one day, that was taken away. I didn’t leave you. I would never leave you.”

Sofia stares at her for a long beat, something in her hard teenage shell flickering, like she wants to believe her, but years of silence and absence weigh heavy. She mumbles. “Sofia Robbin Sloan Torres…” She stands up from the porch. “I… I need some space.” And she starts walking toward the gravel path.

Both women tense, but Callie speaks first, her tone gentle but worried. “Please, don’t go into the woods alone, Sofia.” Sofia rolls her eyes faintly, her jaw tightens. “I’m fourteen, mum. I can handle a walk… I won’t go far. I just… need to breathe, to think, alone.”

Arizona, still seated, glances at Aspen at her feet, then Bramble and Miso. She exhales slowly, then lifts her chin. “Bramble, Miso, go with her.” Both dogs immediately lift their heads, ears perked, ready. Arizona meets Sofia’s eyes. “They know the paths, they’ll protect you” Then, with a quiet but resolute voice, her eyes meet her dogs’ ones. “Protect her.” The command is clear, both dogs let out a soft rumble of acknowledgement and trot after Sofia, as she heads to the path near the woods.

Callie presses her fingers to her temple, torn between letting her daughter go and chasing after her. But she knows that Sofia needs to think about what she has just discovered, and Callie herself needs some time to think too. Arizona doesn’t move, her gaze fixed on the woods, her hand stroking Solstice as if to soothe herself. The patio feels heavier, quieter, every heartbeat echoing. In their minds, the same thought.

I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I don’t want to lose them.