Cut it off.

The words are a cleaver through the tense, terrified silence of the OR, and Alex shivers. He could see the moment Callie decided, the moment the desperation and dread in her eyes were chased away by fierce certainty.

It's Arizona or her leg. An inevitability that, maybe, they'd all expected.

"Go. Just do a good job, please. Do your best."

And it's not until those words that Alex realizes that Callie expects him to do it.

Protests get tangled up in his throat. He's not an ortho surgeon, she's his mentor, isn't he already responsible enough for what happened to her…

But he just nods, because of the way Callie's looking at him. And Alex gets it. Amputation is a straight forward procedure, and this isn't about getting the surgeon who's closest to Callie in knowledge and skill with bones.

It's about the fact that Alex cares about Arizona. And that's what Callie needs to know.

His first solo surgery was a leg amputation. And this may as well be his first; he has to take a moment to steady his hands, and his lungs feel tiny and constricted.

But he does it. He focuses, and he does as much of a good job as is possible. Yet somehow, leaving a good, clean stump that can easily be fit into a prosthetic does not seem like enough.

So he cuts off Arizona's leg. His teacher's leg. His mentor's leg.

And ten minutes after he finishes, Alex falls to his knees in the resident's locker room and empties the contents of his stomach.

~(G*A)~

Needless to say, Alex doesn't see her after. He doesn't see her before she's discharged a few weeks later. And then Arizona holes up in her apartment, so it's even easier not to see her, even when he decides not to go to Hopkins.

He doesn't see her when she finally starts physical therapy or comes to the hospital to get fitted for a prosthetic, though that takes a little more effort. More impressive, he doesn't see her when she starts stopping by the peds ward.

But then Owen Hunt pulls him aside one day to say that she's coming back to work, and Alex is pretty sure avoidance may no longer be possible.

It's just part time, and no operating; she isn't ready to stand for very long at an OR table yet. But she'll be consulting, and supervising, just like Derek Shepherd's been doing over in neuro.

Alex doesn't sleep well the night before she comes back. It's been about five months since The Amputation, and the best gauge he has on how Arizona's doing is from slyly observing Callie's mood. Over the past few months, the ortho surgeon has slowly lost that beaten down, haunted look in her eyes, relief almost emanating from her as she slowly became her old self.

Which meant, probably, that Arizona is returning to something closer to normal, too.

But that probably doesn't extend to Alex. After all, the last three times he saw her were pretty damaging.

Arizona, hurt and betrayed and furious, throwing around terms like miserable bastard and ungrateful crapdog, kicking him off a plane that would soon fall out of the sky.

Arizona, broken and angry and terrifyingly dead-eyed, telling him that, yes, she did blame him for what happened, because he deserved it more than her.

Arizona, quiet and calm and maybe on the brink of telling him it was all okay…before she crashed.

And that was before Alex cut off her leg.

~(G*A)~

"Really, Karev? You're seriously hiding?"

Alex freezes with a chunk of sandwich in his mouth and scowls. He's eating lunch in the intern locker room, and has no idea why Callie Torres is standing in the doorway, holding a paper plate in each hand, a piece of cake balanced on each.

"Why are you in here?" he mumbles grumpily.

"Seeing if you were hiding from the paty." Callie smirks. "One of the nurses saw you come in. I know you only interact with the interns in on-calls rooms, so…"

"Ha ha," Alex retorts, voice dripping sarcasm. He eyes one of the pieces of cake, hopefully. "'S that for me?"

"Nope." Callie unceremoniously drops one plate in the garbage can, then takes a smug bite of the remaining piece. "No Welcome Back, Arizona cake for you until you've welcomed back Arizona."

"It's just a stupid party. We work in the same department, I'll see her eventually."

"Yeah I know that." Callie arches an eyebrow. "Do you?"

Alex glares down at his sandwich, and after a moment, Callie speaks again, voice softened. "Hey. You don't have to worry, I promise. Just talk to her."

~(G*A)~

But she's the one to find him, in the end.

It's late, and the attending's lounge is empty of both doctors and party paraphernalia from earlier. He's finished heart surgery to close a PDA on a preemie, and after his day of nonstop nerves, Alex likes the quiet calm of the scrub room.

And then the door opens.

"Hey, Karev."

Her smile is tentative but genuine, and Alex can't stop his eyes from reflexively darting toward the floor.

She's wearing scrubs under her white coat, even though she can't operate. Alex can barely make out the phony foot stuffed into her tennis shoe, and the barest glint of metal above it.

He averts his eyes quickly, and his gaze immediately locks with Arizona's. The heat rises to his cheeks, but Arizona just smiles, unbothered.

"I watched your surgery," she tells him brightly "It was beautiful work."

"I…." He swallows twice. "Thanks."

Awkward silence envelops them, and Alex realizes the sink's still running. He fumbles to stop the flow of water, and soon notices the wrapped gift under Arizona's arm.

Struggling for a casual voice, Alex asks, "That one of the presents from your party?" Then, words coming out too quickly, he adds, "Sorry I missed that, I was with a patient, this kid was-"

"It's not mine." Arizona cuts gently over his nervous rambling. "It's for you."

His brain feels sluggish, like he can't quite process what's happening, and finally Arizona gently pushes the gift into his hands.

"Think of it as a congratulations on the fellowship! gift," Arizona tells him, and this time her smile is a little forced.

Alex glances at her, confused. Arizona looks almost nervous.

He mumbles something incomprehensible, meaning to argue that he doesn't deserve a gift, that she shouldn't have. But she's smiling at him, equal parts expectant and anxious, so Alex rips open the paper, pries off the lid of a shoebox, and finds himself staring at a white pair of tennis shoes…

…with wheels that pop out of the back.

His throat narrows immediately, and to Alex's utter mortification, his vision blurs with hot, stinging tears.

Alex pops out one of the wheels and absently rolls it against his finger while he waits for his vision to clear. After the silence settles, Arizona prompts gently, "Alex?"

He finally looks up at her; Arizona's eyes are soft around the edges, lit with both apology and forgiveness. "I wanted to keep the tradition going."

Alex opens his mouth to thank her, but instead he whispers, voice catching, "I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be. It wasn't your fault, you know that."

"I should've told you about Hopkins as soon as they called…"

"Yeah, you should have," she agrees gently. "But it's not your fault I kicked you off the plane for it. And even it was…you're not the reason it crashed. It's no one's fault Alex." She pauses, eyes welling up. "And anyway, I'm the one who's sorry."

"Forget it-"

"No…I was awful to you."

"You were in a plane crash. You went all Lord of the Flies in the woods for four days," Alex counters gruffly. "You were allowed to be awful."

"I'm still sorry."

"Well, so'm I."

"I know."

They smile clumsily at each other for a second, then Arizona pulls him swiftly into a hug.

Alex stands a little stiffly at first, oddly worried about her steadiness, but slowly he relaxes and hugs her back, tightly.

He's a little embarrassed when they let go, but of course Arizona isn't. She smiles brightly at him, then taps the shoe box he's holding under his arms. "You learn how to use those, okay?"

"I will."

Arizona winks at him, grinning, then turns to leave the scrub room.

"Hey, Robbins?" She turns, expectantly. "I'm glad you're back."

She flashes a dimple at him. "I'm glad you stayed."

He smiles back, realizing he's breathing easier than he has since the plane crash. He falls into step with her, leaving the scrub room. "So'm I."

"And it is a good program, even if I'm not really your boss anymore."

"C'mon, Robbins. You'll always be my boss."