~ Don't Talk ~
by Nora C. Parker

"So you don't want to talk about my lotion, Calliope?" Arizona's face held a smile. But not the usual smile. This smile was forced. She knew she was trying to distract her girlfriend, yet again, from having this talk. This time, though, she knew that the clever words and the smiles and even probably dropping the towel that was the entirety of her current wardrobe would not distract her usually easily distracted girlfriend from this conversation.

It was time for the talk that she'd been dreading most.

"I don't know how I can make you understand," Callie started.

"I understand the desire to have a baby--"

The look on Callie's face cut off Arizona's quick response. "I'm trying to make you understand me, Arizona. Understand why this is important to me."

Scooting closer, Arizona took hold of her girlfriend's hand but otherwise stayed silent.

As she prepared to speak, Callie's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Family. My whole life, my family has been such a central part of my life. I mean, they drive me crazy -- that's one reason we're on opposite ends of the country."

The inherent contradiction made Callie's mouth curl into a small smile, a genuine smile. Arizona responded by giving her hand a squeeze and with grin of her own.

"But," Callie continued, "I've never doubted that some day, I'd have a child, children maybe, of my own. My family."

Arizona swiveled around on the bed, leaning against the headboard. She pulled Callie into an embrace, giving in to her own contradiction. The need to hold Callie, to comfort her, even though her stance was the cause of her girlfriend's discomfort.

"I want to be someone's mother. Maybe it's brainwashing. Maybe it's inherent. Maybe it's another aspect of the family crazy, I don't know. But it's there, and it's not going to go away. And I feel like I have to abandon this big part of myself or abandon you, and I can't do that. I love you. I hate the thought of losing either." With that the dam burst and Callie's tears flowed freely. Her body wrapped around Arizona, heaving with sobs.

Murmuring words of comfort, Arizona held on as Callie's tears continued. She stroked her lover's hair, rubbed her back.

Prior to this day, Arizona had prepared what she found to be a logical argument about why having children was not a good idea. The factual bases included overpopulation, the risks to a child's life as evidenced by the cases over the course of her career, and the risk to a parent's life to which either of them could vouch. All facts that she knew should completely shore up her side of the debate.

All facts that were completely lost to the rush of emotion and tears flowing from the woman in her arms.

"I need more time with this," Arizona whispered.

She could feel Callie's nod of response. "Someone told me once," Callie added through a sob, " about how revealing a truth about myself that changed someone's perspective meant that I had to give the other person time to understand what I was saying."

"It's not exactly the same."

"Isn't it?"

"I haven't known you for thirty years." The line was delivered with a smile, another effort to lighten the mood of the discussion.

"Not yet."

Now was not the time for answers, for absolutes. But the look of love and trust in Callie's eyes as she looked up at Arizona was enough to make the other woman melt. The feeling, even for an instant, that thirty years would be just a beginning overwhelmed the blonde woman.

She bent her head down, capturing her partner's lips. Logic be damned. Her part of this discussion, her statement of her love and lust and need, was going to be delivered through action.

The kisses were strong, hungry. Initially hesitant, Callie began to respond in kind, understanding that this, too, was a part of the conversation.

Each woman was so locked in the interchange of needing, of feeling, that they almost didn't hear the knocking at the door until that knocking became pounding. "I know you're in there."

"Go away," Callie yelled as Arizona continued ministrations that were making coherent speech almost impossible.

"It's Mark. Sloan's in labor. At my place."

All action ceased, Arizona sinking against Callie, deflated.

Callie voiced her frustration through a loud groan.

"Sorry," Mark's voice added.

"Give us a moment."

Putting a hand under Arizona's chin, Callie lifted her girlfriend's head so their eyes met. "This wasn't a good-bye, was it?" A smile failed at masking the rawness of the question.

The response was another deep kiss. "I love you so much." Arizona whispered as she pulled back.

"But?" The reply hadn't confirmed the question.

"But we can't, I can't, resolve this now."

"I'm not saying today. For me, anyway." The quip was an allusion to the events across the hall. A reminder to each of them before they got lost again in their own feelings.

"We need more time." Arizona realized how wrong that statement was. How presumptuous she was to speak for both of them. "I need more time."

"I know. I'm the game changer."

That phrase couldn't begin to described how Arizona Robbins viewed the affect of Callie Torres on her life. "You are indeed."

The moment hung between them.

"So," Arizona kneeled on the bed, again facing Callie but breaking the mood. Shall we go make Mark Sloan a grandfather?"

(the end)

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