Chapter Text
The ocean spread out in all directions, a restless expanse of sapphire and silver under a sun too bright to stare at for long. The horizon shimmered like the edge of a blade, endless and beautiful, the kind of beauty that could turn on you without warning. Arizona Robbins stood at the helm of her ship, The Good Man, the wheel turning beneath her sure hands. The wind tugged at her coat and tangled her hair, strands of sun-gold catching the light. Her prosthetic leg, polished and gleaming, was steady against the deck, a small but constant anchor as she surveyed the horizon. She felt the salt on her lips and the faint sting of sunburn on her arms and chest. This was proof she was alive and still herself despite the impossible journey she had chosen. Despite all the setbacks, the pain, the loss and the loneliness.
Around her, ropes creaked and gulls called, their cries sharp against the low rhythm of waves slapping the hull. She loved this sound, the heartbeat of freedom. No orders, no rules, no expectations. Just the open sea, and her crew’s laughter echoing across it.
Kepner leaned over the rail a few feet away, soft orange hair tied back, sun catching the silver in her skin. “You’ve got that look again.” she said, half-smile tugging at her lips. “The one that means trouble’s coming.”
Arizona smirked without glancing up. “Trouble keeps life interesting.”
“Trouble keeps us broke.” she shot back.
Wilson climbed the rigging nearby, grinning. “And wet. Don’t forget wet.”
Karev groaned from where he was mending a torn sail. “You people call this fun. I call it a collective death wish.”
Arizona’s smirk deepened. “It’s only a death wish if you die, Karev.”
That drew a round of laughter from the crew. The Good Man was many things, half-repaired, half-notorious, but under Arizona’s command, it was alive. The air around her crackled with the same restless energy that drove the tides. She thrived on motion, on the thrill of almost too much. Too much wind, too much risk, too much heart. And yet, somewhere beneath that bright, reckless energy, there was an ache. A small, persistent thing she didn’t name.
They were a strange crew, that was for sure. Arizona was the captain of the ship. The name was The Good Man, left by her father when her parents died. Arizona was a true pirate. Her parents were always elegant and noble, had friends in high places all around the world, but she wasn't like them. She never could. Her heart was wild and her soul could never be tamed. A daring, quick-witted sea captain with a smile sharp enough to cut rope and a heart far more complex than she lets anyone see. Robbins carries herself with the poise of a woman who has seen both beauty and brutality on the open water. Her ocean-blue eyes reflect both wonder and sorrow, a lifetime of adventure shadowed by past choices.
She’s loyal to her crew, confident at the helm, and thrives under pressure. But beneath all the swagger is restlessness, the ache of someone who’s been running from something she can’t quite name. A very charming, impulsive, fiercely loyal and occasionally reckless captain. Arizona Robbins is the perfect balance of warmth and steel.
Alex Karev is the crew’s cynic because everyone needs one of these. Pragmatic to a fault, but with a quiet loyalty that surprises even him. He complains about every impossible situation, yet never backs down when it matters. His gruff exterior hides a sharp mind and a reluctant heart of gold. Sarcastic and grounded, but secretly caring. He had a soft spot for Arizona. They've known each other for years, ever since she first got on that ship. She saw him one day on the docks of a city, using his sharp and witted mind to steal some goods. She needed people for her crew and he needed something to do to give him purpose. That's how they ended up on the ship together, just the two of them, trying to figure out how to survive. They were young and reckless, obliviously naive, but they managed. Karev saw Arizona as a sister from the very beginning. He would never admit it, but he cares too much for her.
Karev muttered something about 'always a pleasure' his face a mixture of irritation and begrudging loyalty, while Jackson leaned lazily against the mast, sun glinting off his tanned skin, a smirk playing on his lips like he hadn’t a care in the world. Jo adjusted a crossbow at her hip, jaw tight, while Kepner clutched the spyglass with the wide-eyed fear of someone who had never seen the ocean behave like this before.
“Captain.” Kepner said, her voice pitched higher than usual, “Are you sure this is a good idea? Syracuse waters are...well... dangerous.”
Arizona’s lips curved into a faint, wry smile. “Kepner, the best ideas I’ve ever had started with someone saying that exact sentence.”
A distant shadow passed beneath the water, a subtle disturbance that made the hairs on her neck rise. Something massive, something alive, moved just out of sight.
Karev’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Before she could respond, the sea erupted. A gigantic serpent, scales glistening like wet gemstones, surged from the depths, its eyes black. Arizona’s heart leapt, adrenaline igniting every nerve. She barked orders, moving across the deck with a precision born of countless battles, “Battle stations! Don’t let it touch the rigging!”
Cannons fired, ropes snapped, and the deck rocked under the creature’s assault. And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the sea stilled.
From the mist, a figure emerged, walking upon the waves themselves. She seemed to radiate a cold light that made the edges of the world shimmer. Dark curls tumbled around her shoulders, and her eyes, infinite and dangerous, locked on Arizona with a mixture of amusement and judgment.
“Captain Robbins.” she said, her voice carrying like wind over the water, “You’ve been keeping me entertained. I will keep an eye on you.”
Arizona narrowed her eyes. “Glad to hear I’m a good toy for the Gods. Now, could you call off your pet before it eats my ship?”
The woman moved her hand so gracefully, it looked more like a dance of the hands than just a gesture. The sea serpent dipped back beneath the waves without a sound, disappearing entirely. Her lips curved into a faint smile, enigmatic and electric.
“Consider it...a favor,” she said. “I like you, Arizona. You have spirit. Perhaps, we’ll meet again.”
And in an instant, she was gone, leaving only the faintest ripple in the water as a reminder she had ever been there.
Jo muttered, “What the hell was that?”
Arizona exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the empty horizon. “Trouble.” she said, a hint of something unspoken in her voice. Her heart skipped a beat. “Beautiful trouble.”
She hadn’t seen Mark in years.
When the cry came from the crow’s nest - “Syracuse! Port ahead!” - something in her chest tightened.
The shining city rose from the horizon, its marble towers gleaming in the sun, banners rippling in the wind. Civilization. Order. Memory. Everything she’d left behind.
Kepner followed her gaze. “You sure about this, Captain?”
Arizona’s jaw tightened, but her eyes never left the city. “We’re just passing through.” she said. “No harm in saying hello to an old friend.”
The Good Man sailed on, cutting through the waves toward Syracuse, the city gleaming like polished gold as it rose into view. Docked among the harbor’s stone piers, Arizona stepped onto solid ground, the familiar weight of a city underfoot both grounding and suffocating.
Arizona let her eyes wander over the grand city, the gilded spires, and the bustling harbor. Somewhere amid the perfection, she knew chaos waited and not just the kind that came from the open sea.
The harbor of Syracuse smelled of salt, spice, and politics. Market stalls lined the docks, full of fruit and fish and things Arizona had no use for. The guards stared as The Good Man pulled in, its tattered sails and motley crew so different from the polished vessels that usually filled the port.
When Arizona stepped onto the dock, sunlight flashing on the hilt of her sword, people gave her a wide berth. Everything about her and her crew screamed 'pirate' and she liked it that way.
But when Mark appeared at the end of the pier, the world seemed to slow around her. He hadn’t changed much, the same easy grin, the same effortless confidence that had once driven her mad. His clothes were finer now, embroidered with the subtle precision of a prince’s station. But the way he looked at her, direct, amused, a little exasperated, that was exactly the same.
“Arizona Robbins.” he said, spreading his arms as she approached. “I’d say it’s been too long, but knowing you, that’s probably intentional.”
“Mark Sloan.” she replied, mouth curving in something between affection and warning, she forward both of them, pulling each other into a hug. “Still talking too much, I see.”
He laughed, and the tension cracked just enough for her to breathe. “Still running from everything that doesn’t sail?”
“Still chained to everything that stays in the same place?” she shot back.
They stood there for a moment, measuring each other, pirate and prince, old friends caught on opposite tides. Then Mark gestured toward the city gates, grin widening. “You’ll stay for the ceremony. The Book of Peace, we’re displaying it before it’s sealed in the Hall.”
“The Book of what-now?” Arizona asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“You’ll see.” Mark said. “Try not to steal it this time.”
Arizona grinned. “Generous of you. Though you might want to hide the silver first.”
Jo groaned under her breath. “Here we go.”
The marble steps of Syracuse’s City Hall gleamed like they’d been polished just to intimidate pirates. The building rose in graceful columns, gold filigree catching the afternoon sun, its banners fluttering with the kind of self-importance that made Arizona roll her eyes.
Her crew trudged up behind her, a lineup of glorious misfits looking like they’d been dragged through three storms and one questionable tavern brawl on their way to civilization.
The guards at the entrance stiffened. One of them, a young man whose armor was probably still warm from polishing, cleared his throat. “All weapons must be surrendered before entering the hall.” he announced, his voice wobbling just slightly when Arizona smiled at him.
She stepped forward, all charm and sunshine. “Of course.” she said sweetly. “Wouldn’t want to make anyone nervous.”
Behind her, Alex groaned. “Oh, for- You can’t be serious! What if someone attacks us?”
“Alex.” Arizona said, turning with that calm, lethal smile of hers, “We’re walking into a diplomatic reception, not a knife fight.” She only called him by his first name when they were talking feelings and deep shit or when he was in trouble. This time it was the latter.
“Same difference.” he muttered, crossing his arms.
The guard motioned to a long table lined with a velvet cloth. “Weapons, please.”
Arizona sighed dramatically, like she was being asked to part with her firstborn. She unbuckled the twin daggers from her belt and set them down with a gentle clink. “There. Happy?”
The guard nodded, visibly relieved, until she kept going.
She pulled a smaller blade from her boot and added it to the pile. Then another from her sleeve. Then one from the inside of her coat. By the time she reached behind her back to pull out a throwing knife no one had even seen before, the guard’s expression had shifted from satisfaction to mild horror.
“Um, Captain?” April said from the back of the group, barely hiding a grin, “How many of those things do you have?”
“Just enough,” Arizona said cheerfully, “to make sure no one ever asks that question again.”
Next came Jo, who dropped a short sword and he crossbow onto the table with a clatter and shrugged. “What? They are sentimental.”
Then Jackson stepped up, perfectly groomed, impossibly calm, as if the dirt and chaos of seafaring didn’t dare touch him. He placed one elegant rapier down with a few knives, adjusted his cuffs, and smiled politely at the guard like he’d just done him a favor. He had the education of a noble and the posture of someone who never quite stopped believing he was above the chaos around him. But he’d adapted impeccably. He managed the crew’s resources, planned their routes, and negotiated their survival with the grace of a diplomat who always had an escape plan. His shirts were somehow always clean, even at sea, which Jo and Alex found deeply suspicious. He moved through the chaos with an almost surgical precision, cutting through panic with logic, through fear with calm.
April followed suit, fumbling nervously with the crossbow strapped to her back. “It’s, uh, technically defensive?” she said hopefully. She then put down a small pistol from her jacket and a sword that was on her belt.
The guard raised an eyebrow. “It’s a crossbow.”
April sighed and set it down, muttering something about 'divine irony' under her breath.
Then came Alex, pulling out one knife, then another, then a third. He hesitated, glanced at Arizona, and muttered, “Oh, for fuck's sake! Fine!” before reluctantly placing a final, wickedly curved blade onto the growing pile.
Jo stared at him. “How many knives do you need?”
Karev scowled. “Enough to make sure you don’t steal one.”
Before anyone could say anything, a low growl came from behind them. The ship’s mutt, a patchy creature of indeterminate breed known only as Chief, trotted up proudly with something gleaming in its mouth.
Arizona blinked. “Chief, is that a sword?”
The dog wagged his tail, completely unbothered, and dropped a small cutlass at her feet like a particularly pointy stick.
The guard made a strangled sound. “The dog has a weapon?”
“Technically,” Jo said, deadpan, “he’s emotional support.”
“Yeah,” Alex added, smirking, “he supports our emotions by biting anyone who annoys us.”
Chief barked once, proudly, as if to confirm. No one was entirely sure where Chief came from. One morning, years ago, he’d simply appeared on The Good Man’s deck, soaked, silent, and glaring at anyone who dared to ask questions. Arizona claimed he’d 'followed her home'. April insisted he’d 'stolen' the ship. Both statements were probably true.
Chief was a creature that seemed too elegant for a pirate ship and too dangerous for a palace. He had the lean, athletic build of a Doberman, muscle rippling under short, dark fur, but his coat carried the stormy silver-gray of a Tamaskan, shot through with faint russet along his muzzle and paws. His ears stood high and alert, his eyes a sharp amber-gold that gleamed with the kind of intelligence that made humans nervous. In the right light, he looked less like a dog and more like something the sea itself might have conjured to guard its chosen captain.
Arizona couldn’t help it and laughed. It wasn’t her usual confident smirk, it was genuine, bright, the kind of laugh that caught everyone off guard. She leaned down, scratching Chief behind the ears. “Good boy.” she said. “We’ll get it back after dinner.”
The guard, looking mildly traumatized, waved them through. “Fine. Just-please, no more weapons. Or animals.”
As they passed, Arizona glanced over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re unarmed now.”
The guard looked down at the alarming pile of steel, daggers, and improvised implements that looked more like the aftermath of a black-market auction than a weapons check and swallowed hard.
Behind her, Alex muttered, “We’re definitely not getting invited back.”
“Good!” Arizona said, adjusting her coat as they entered the glittering hall. “Wouldn’t want to make a habit of it.”
Chief trotted proudly beside her, tail wagging, utterly oblivious to the horrified stares of Syracuse’s nobility as the pirates of The Good Man walked into the city’s most elegant hall like they owned the place.
Inside the Grand Hall, everything gleamed, sunlight reflected off the polished marble floors, golden light, the hum of a hundred conversations. The contrast to the open sea was dizzying. Arizona felt like she was walking inside a cage made of beauty. The Book of Peace rested on its pedestal, faintly glowing, radiating a weight that Arizona could feel in her chest. A woman with black hair, poised and immaculate, stood beside Mark. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she assessed Arizona, a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and an unspoken challenge.
At the high table, nobles smiled politely, whispering behind jeweled hands. Mark stood at her side, unbothered by the stares, while Arizona leaned back in her chair, boots propped on the table leg, eyes scanning the room like a wolf in a sheepfold. It was here, in this glittering calm, that the first flicker of something other appeared.
A shadow rippled across the ceiling, unnoticed by most. The candles flickered, though there was no wind. And for the briefest second, Arizona felt a presence, electric and cold, like the air before lightning strikes.
Her fingers tightened around her cup.
Mark noticed her shift. “Something wrong?”
She forced a smile. “Just... déjà vu.”
“So, still getting into trouble, Robbins?” he asked, that easy smile of his masking concern.
“Still pretending you don’t miss it?” Arizona shot back, her tone both teasing and warning. When they were young, they used to do all kinds of stupid things. They did several pranks on Richard, Mark's father. Arizona and Mark would make his father so angry, his face would turn as red as a lobster. Trouble was their fun.
“So this is the famous Captain Robbins?” the woman beside Mark said, voice smooth and measured. “Mark’s told me...stories.”
“All true.” Arizona replied, with a faint smirk, “Especially the bad ones.” Her eyes moved from her cup to the woman. "I don't think we've been introduced."
"Calliope Torres, but everyone calls me Callie. It's nice to finally meet you." Callie said.
"Likewise." replied Arizona.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that the room was being watched, that the very air had turned its head toward her. And somewhere beyond the marble walls, in a place where light bent like water, a woman’s voice whispered through the fabric of the world.
"Pirate."
It wasn’t spoken aloud, but Arizona heard it all the same. She turned toward the window, but there was nothing, only the faint shimmer of heat and sunlight on the horizon. Her pulse quickened. That woman from before was watching. That beautiful and ethereal woman. She didn't even know her name, but she could only think about her.
And then the world changed.
The air grew unnaturally cold. Shadows pooled in the corners of the room. The light shattered before anyone realized it was breaking.
One instant, the Book of Peace glowed softly on its pedestal, a heartbeat of pure light, breathing calm into the marble hall. Next, the glow trembled, pulsing like a star about to collapse.
Arizona felt it first, a drop in the air pressure, the faint hum of something ancient waking. Chief whined under the table, ears flat.
Then came the sound. A low, thrumming note, almost too deep to hear, resonated through the floor, through the bones of everyone in the room. The chandeliers quivered. The golden banners along the walls rippled, though not a breath of wind moved.
Mark’s goblet slipped from his hand, crashing against the table. “What the-?”
And then everything stopped. The laughter. The music. Even the air. Time itself seemed to inhale and hold its breath. A crack of black lightning split the space above the pedestal, curling outward like the fingers of a hand. From within that rift, silver mist poured down, snaking across the marble floor.
Gasps echoed. Guards stumbled back, swords half-drawn but useless.
Arizona stood, heart hammering, eyes fixed on the Book. “No...” she whispered. She knew exactly what was happening.
And there, stepping from a shimmer of darkness, was that woman, every inch ethereal, the very air bending around her, her eyes two spiraling galaxies.
She stepped out of the rift like a thought made flesh. Her figure coalescing from shadow and starlight, dark curls framing a face that was both impossibly young and infinitely old. Her eyes gleamed like galaxies collapsing in slow motion. She walked toward the Book with the deliberate grace of someone who owned every heartbeat in the room.
“Stop right there!” barked one of the guards.
The woman smiled, slowly, almost pityingly. “You mortals and your commands.”
She raised a single hand. The man froze mid-step, suspended in place, his blade trembling in the air like a toy held by invisible strings.
Arizona’s instincts screamed. “Don’t do this!”
The Goddess’s gaze flicked to her, amused and darkly curious. “Still trying to play hero, Captain?”
“Just-don’t touch it.” Something inside her had already begun to turn toward the darkness.
“How touching.” The Goddess said, voice soft, yet deadly. “Mortals worshiping an object they do not understand.”
Her hand hovered over the Book, the faint shimmer of its power reflecting in her eyes. “You have no idea what this really is.” she murmured. “You protect it like a relic... but it’s a cage. A lie wrapped in light.”
“Then explain it.” Arizona said. “Don’t-”
Her fingers brushed the Book. The explosion of light blinded everyone. It wasn’t brightness, it was everything. A soundless detonation of power that ripped through the hall, sending shockwaves through the glass, through the world itself. The windows burst outward in a storm of glittering shards. The floor split in a jagged crack from wall to wall.
And when the light faded, the pedestal was empty.
Only a faint circle of ash marked where the Book had been.
The Goddess was gone.
And Arizona stood amid the chaos, ears ringing, eyes wide, the ghost of her voice still echoing in her mind.
“You’ll find me when you’re ready to see the truth.”
Mark was shouting something. Guards were running. Callie’s hand was on his arm, demanding answers. But Arizona couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Because for the briefest instant, before that woman vanished, their eyes had met and in that impossible moment, Arizona had felt something that had nothing to do with magic or destiny.
It was recognition.
A heartbeat later, the hall erupted in chaos. Guards drew swords. Mark’s eyes were wide with disbelief.
“Arizona, tell me this isn’t you.” he said, stepping forward.
“I swear I didn’t do it!” she said. She was now confused, panicked and a bit scared of the consequences.
No one else saw the flicker of silver that marked the Goddess's presence. Arizona felt it in her bones. She was trapped between mortal law and divine mischief.
“Seize her!” commanded King Richard. He never really liked her. He also never approved of her and Mark's friendship as children, but ever since her parents died and she ran away, he has lived a peaceful life. Now, because his son wanted her to come, the book was stolen and all these years of peace he had were gone.
Mark moved faster than she expected. "No!" he shouted. He moved in front of the guards who were more than ready to kill her and her crew.
“If she doesn’t bring back the Book, I’ll take her place.”
Arizona swallowed. “Mark, no -”
"There's no way I'm leaving my only child in prison because of a pirate!" said Richard. He had this awful look in his eyes every time he looked at her.
"She will bring back the Book. I believe when she says it's not her fault. I will take your place if you don't come back with it." he said, sounding hopeful and truthful.
"Are you fucking insane? How are you so sure I can even find it in the first place?"
“You owe me one last adventure.” he said, his jaw firm, eyes locked on hers.
And with that, she gathered her weapons and turned back to the harbor, to The Good Man, and to the impossible path that awaited across the open, living sea.
Outside, bells began to ring sharply and urgently, cutting through the golden calm of the afternoon. The sound tore through the marble silence like a heartbeat gone wild. She could see a silhouette of the woman who might have just fucked up her life.
Arizona ran.
Boots skidding across the polished floor, she pushed past nobles and guards alike. The crowd swelled around her, fear rippling outward as word spread: the Book was gone.
By the time she reached the balcony overlooking the sea, the sky itself seemed to churn, clouds twisting into spirals of violet and silver. The air tasted of iron and storm.
“Hey!” she shouted, voice echoing against stone. “You don’t know what you’ve done!”
From the heart of the swirling light, she appeared in front of her, more real this time, standing on nothing, her dark hair alive in an invisible wind. Shadows curled around her fingers like smoke.
“Oh, I know exactly what I’ve done.” she said, eyes glittering. “I’ve set your world free from its illusion of peace.”
“You stole it!” Arizona stepped forward, hand instinctively going to the dagger at her belt. “You said you wouldn’t-”
“I said I’d watch.” The Goddess interrupted, her voice calm and cruelly soft. “But mortals are so fascinating when they panic. You should’ve seen your face.”
Something in Arizona snapped. The mixture of awe, anger, and something far more dangerous that she refused to name.
“Give it back.” the captain growled.
“Come find me." she replied. Her form began to dissolve, like mist retreating from dawn. “If you dare, Captain Robbins.”
Then she was gone, only a trace of her laughter remained, like chimes in a storm.
When Arizona ran back, guards were already spilling everywhere. Chief, her loyal dog, barked once before darting to her side, hackles raised. Alex and Jackson followed close behind, both out of breath, both wide-eyed.
“What the hell happened?” Alex panted. “We leave you alone for five minutes-”
“The Book’s gone.” Arizona said, already heading toward the docks. “And apparently, I’m the one who stole it.”
“Again?” Jackson muttered.
“Not helping, Avery!” she snapped.
April ran up beside them, clutching her skirts. “The king’s furious. He’s saying-he’s saying someone has to answer for this.”
Arizona stopped dead. “Mark?”
April’s eyes dropped. “He made a deal. He’s being taken to the dungeons now.”
A muscle worked in Arizona’s jaw. She exhaled, long and slow, fighting the rising tide of guilt. “That fucking idiot! Damn it.”
Jo appeared with a coil of rope over her shoulder, eating an apple, face set with determination. “So what’s the plan, Captain?”
Arizona looked out toward the horizon, the ocean, wide and waiting, its waves gleaming like molten glass. Somewhere out there, in the shifting realm between sky and sea, the Goddess waited.
“We’re going after her.” Arizona said.
Alex raised an eyebrow. “After a Goddess? Great. No way that ends badly.”
“Get the ship ready.” Arizona ordered. “We sail by dusk.” Chief barked once in agreement, as if to punctuate her words.
As the crew scattered to prepare, Arizona lingered for a moment at the pier. The sea breeze tangled her hair, cool against her flushed skin. Somewhere in that endless blue, she was watching, Arizona could feel it, that faint electric pull between them, the dangerous line that neither of them should cross but already had.
Her heart still pounded with the memory of her voice, her gaze, the way time itself seemed to bend when she spoke.
“You’re playing with fire...” Arizona whispered to no one.
And from somewhere far beyond mortal reach, the wind answered like a whisper that felt like fingers tracing the back of her neck.
"Then burn with me, Captain."
When the sun finally sank beneath the horizon, The Good Man slipped silently from the harbor, sails catching the last light of day. The city behind them was a blaze of torches and anger. Ahead was only darkness, stars, and the echo of a Goddess’s laughter.
Arizona stood at the helm, her crew at her back, and for the first time in a long time, she felt something fierce and alive in her chest.
It wasn’t fear.
It was the beginning of a storm.
Jo leaned against the rail, her dark eyes scanning the horizon. “This is insane.” she muttered. “We’re literally sailing into the unknown because - what? You like trouble?”
Arizona’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “It’s not about liking it. It’s about surviving it. And maybe enjoying it a little.”
Karev was sprawled lazily on a crate and rolled his eyes. “Somehow you make it sound romantic.” He then looked at where April and Jackson were standing. April was a sweet girl, but very lost in her ways. She had freckled skin kissed pink by the sun, auburn hair tied up in a scarf, sea-green eyes full of conviction. Her uniform was always perpetually neat until chaos struck, after which she looked like divine frustration personified.
Her faith, half spiritual, half stubborn optimism, made her an odd fit among thieves and mercenaries. But April had grit beneath her idealism. When storms hit or tempers flared, she was the one who steadied the map, barked orders, and prayed loud enough for everyone to hear. April respected Arizona deeply, even when she didn’t understand her. Where Arizona followed instinct, April followed principle, where Arizona flirted with chaos, April prayed through it. Their dynamic swung between affectionate exasperation and genuine sisterhood. Arizona relied on her to navigate more than just maps. April was her internal compass when the line between freedom and recklessness blurred.
She joined the crew years ago, after leaving a comfortable life in the inland territories to 'see the world' (a phrase that, for April, had quickly translated to accidentally becoming part of several crimes). What began as a temporary adventure became a purpose; the ship needed her, even if no one ever admitted it. Jackson joined them a year after she did. They were an odd thing, these two. No one on board was sure if they were a couple or not. They were opposites in all the ways that made their connection infuriatingly magnetic. April prayed before every battle while Jackson adjusted the trajectory of the cannons. She believed in fate and he believed in physics. She saw meaning in every storm, he saw data.
And yet, in the quiet hours between voyages, they balanced each other. April softened his edges. Jackson grounded her faith in something tangible. Theirs was the slow burn of two people who’d argue the world apart and still find their way back to the same horizon. If April was the ship’s heart, Jackson was its nerve center. Beautiful, brilliant, and unflappable to the point of arrogance, he joined the crew for 'research purposes', which everyone quickly understood to mean 'running away from an expensive problem on land'.
Jackson was Arizona’s right hand in matters of reason. Her counterpart in logic, the way Jo was in loyalty. Where she led by instinct, he double-checked her calculations, not to undermine her but to make sure they survived her daring. Their banter was constant, edged with respect and the occasional 'I told you so'.
Kepner, still clinging to the spyglass as if it were a lifeline, shook her head. “Romantic? The sea is vast, dangerous... we could die out here!” Jackson only smiled knowingly behind her.
“Then you’d be very memorable.” Arizona said, her voice edged with teasing confidence, but her mind was elsewhere. She had felt it again, the pull, the brush of something impossible against the fabric of reality. She could not see the Goddess now, but the lingering warmth, the faint shimmer in the air, made her pulse tighten.
The first night fell over them with a blanket of deep indigo. Stars scattered like spilled diamonds across the sky, reflected faintly on the waves. Arizona stood at the bow long after the others had turned in, feeling the wind tug at her hair and coat, feeling the salt in the air, and waiting.
She did not have to wait long.
A ripple moved across the water, faint at first, then sharp and deliberate. Mist coiled like smoke from the sea, and from it emerged a figure, impossibly bright and impossibly human, yet undeniably not. Her bare feet skimmed the water’s surface, her dark curls dancing with an otherworldly light that made the very air shimmer.
“You seem persistent.” Arizona said, hands gripping the rail as her stomach clenched. “I thought you liked drama from afar.”
The Goddess tilted her head, that faint, predator’s smile curling her lips. “Drama? I prefer observation. Watching mortals struggle against their own fate is endlessly fascinating. And you, Arizona, are particularly... entertaining.”
“You framed me.” Arizona said, voice low. “The city, the Book. You made me a criminal.”
“Framed?” Her laugh was like the echo of wind over glass. “I merely nudged events in the right direction. You turned it into a legend.”
"If you intend to follow me around, can I at least get your name?"
"Hmm, wouldn't you like to know."
"You seem to know me very well, even though we've actually never met before." Arizona wasn't sure how that woman knew so much about her or how long she watched her. She was a Goddess, after all, so nothing really was that strange.
"People know me as Eris, the Goddess of Chaos, but for you," she moved closer, until only a breath separated them. The air between them hummed, thick with something ancient and magnetic. The ocean seemed to still even further, as if listening. "it's Amelia."
Amelia.
Arizona could see the faint shimmer of starlight in Amelia’s eyes. She could smell the sea and something else, wild, electric, intoxicating.
“Why are you doing this?” Arizona whispered.
Amelia’s smile faded. “Because you saw me.” she said simply. “Not the Goddess, not the chaos. Me. No one ever does.” The honesty in her tone disarmed Arizona more than any spell could have. For a heartbeat, she forgot to breathe.
Amelia reached out, fingers brushing the side of Arizona’s face, light as silk, the touch both cold and burning. Her thumb traced the line of Arizona’s jaw, pausing just at her lips.
“Tell me to stop.” Amelia whispered.
Arizona didn’t move. The world seemed to hang suspended, caught between their breaths. She wanted to move forward, to close that impossible distance, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Amelia moved her face even closer to Arizona's, her mouth hovering centimetres away from the blonde's.
Arizona’s stomach sank, her hands shaking, breath hitched. “Amelia. Don’t.”
The Goddess pulled away slightly and tilted her head, a predator studying prey, her tone lustful and daring. “Say my name again.”
Softly, almost painfully, she reached up and took Amelia’s hand, lowering it from her face.
“I can’t.” Arizona said, voice breaking just a little. “Not now.”
Amelia studied her for a long moment, not angry, not wounded, but deeply, achingly knowing. “You will...” she said finally, her tone neither threat nor promise. She moved her head and whispered in her ear, “When you stop running from what you are.” She then bit her earlobe and moved down to her neck, her teeth sinking in the soft and salty skin of the captain, leaving a small, burning hot mark.
And then she was gone.
No sound, no shimmer. Only the faint scent of rain and starlight left in her wake.
Arizona stood there for a long time, her heart pounding too fast, her skin still tingling where Amelia’s hand had been, where her teeth bit. Chief padded up beside her, yawning, resting his head against her leg.
Arizona exhaled shakily and looked up at the stars. “You saw that, didn’t you?” Chief only gave a quiet huff.
“Yeah.” she whispered. “That’s what I thought.”
Chief was loyal to Arizona in that ancient, wordless way animals are, the kind of devotion that didn’t need commands. He understood her moods, the restless energy, sudden stillness, the difference between a storm she wanted to chase and one she wanted to avoid. When she laughed, his tail wagged. When she drew her blade, he stood beside her, hackles high, silent as steel.
To the crew, he was part mascot, part security system, part therapist.
Alex swore he was smarter than half the sailors they’d ever hired and fought. Jo once caught him dragging an empty rum bottle off the deck 'just to prove a point.' April prayed for him, while Jackson tried to train him. Chief ignored both with dignified indifference.
She looked back toward the sea, endless and unknowable, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she was chasing Amelia to stop her or to find her.
The ship creaked and groaned around her, the steady rhythm of the sea beneath its ribs. Arizona ducked into her small cabin, closing the door behind her. For once, the world outside was quiet. No waves crashing, no crew shouting, no Goddess whispering in her ear.
She lit the lantern and stared into the scratched mirror bolted above the washbasin. Her reflection looked older than she felt, sunburned, wind-marked, eyes ringed with salt and sleepless nights. With a sigh, she pulled out her knife.
Her undercut had grown uneven again, curls at the top, the sides creeping long enough to get caught in her collar. She’d started shaving it years ago, not for style, but for survival. When you live on the sea, wind and saltwater have a way of turning long hair into a net around your neck. A clean cut meant speed, focus, freedom. No tangles, no hesitation.
“Pirates don’t get to be vain.” she murmured, running the blade along the back side of her head. The sound of the scrape, metal against skin, was oddly calming. It reminded her of control, something rare these days. She tilted her head, inspecting the line. “Still got it.” she muttered.
And then, a thunk.
She froze.
A rustle behind her. She turned, knife still in hand.
The lid of the old supply chest in the corner lifted and out popped Callie Torres, hair tousled, eyes wide, looking far too composed for someone who’d just spent hours hiding among spare ropes and blankets.
Arizona nearly dropped her blade. “What the - Callie?!”
Callie climbed out, brushing off her clothes like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Don’t look so surprised. You make it too easy to stow away.”
Arizona blinked, trying to process this. “You-you were in there the whole time?”
“Since Syracuse.” Callie said, crossing her arms. “And you really should check your cargo before you set sail. Terrible security for a pirate ship.”
Arizona set the knife down, still half-staring at her. “You realize you could’ve suffocated.”
Callie smirked. “I realize I didn’t. And now, I’m here to make sure you don’t disappear with that book and leave Mark to rot.”
Arizona exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of her neck. “You think I’d just abandon him?”
“I think you’d do what pirates do best.” Callie said, eyes sharp. “Run.”
Arizona studied her, the way her stance wavered between anger and something else, something like fear.
Finally, she chuckled, low and dry. “You really hid in a box this whole time to lecture me?”
Callie shrugged. “You’re worth it.”
Arizona blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
“The mission.” Callie corrected quickly, flushing. “The mission is worth it.”
Arizona smirked, reaching for her coat. “Sure, Torres. Whatever helps you sleep in a box.”
Callie glared, but there was a twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
The morning after, sunlight poured over the deck like warm honey. The world looked deceptively calm, as if the night before had been nothing more than a dream.
But Arizona knew it wasn’t. She stood at the helm, eyes fixed on the horizon, jaw set in that way that meant don’t ask. Her hands were steady on the wheel, but her mind wasn’t. Every time she blinked, she saw silver eyes, dark hair, the way the air itself had seemed to tremble between them.
She exhaled sharply and adjusted the sails, mostly to keep herself busy. Chief sat nearby, chin on his paws, watching her with quiet suspicion.
“Don’t start.” Arizona muttered.
The dog blinked once, unimpressed and then looked away.
Below deck, the clatter of dishes and raised voices announced that the crew was awake and that breakfast was not going smoothly.
A moment later, Jo burst from the galley, her braid half undone and her patience clearly gone. “If someone doesn’t stop Karev from burning the biscuits, I’m throwing him overboard.”
Alex’s voice followed, loud and indignant, “They’re not burned! They’re crispy! There’s a difference!”
April groaned from somewhere unseen. “We’re in the middle of the ocean and you’re arguing about biscuits?”
“Exactly!” Alex shot back. “You can’t not argue about biscuits. It’s, like, maritime law.”
Jo was a scrappy, quick-thinking sailor with a knack for surviving the impossible. She is equal parts sarcasm and loyalty, the first to jump into danger and the last to leave a friend behind. Her hair was always messy, with an occasional grease smudge, eyes were full of spark and mischief. Ever since she joined them, she has idolized Arizona and sees in her the kind of fearless confidence she hopes to one day achieve. She and Alex have been together for a few years now, but sometimes their friends wonder how they haven't killed each other yet.
Jackson appeared with a cup of something that he claims tastes good, but in reality was pure shit, looking half-asleep and entirely done. “It’s been a day and a half.” he said to Arizona. “A day and a half, and I already regret signing on.”
Arizona managed a small smile. “You always regret signing on.”
“Yeah, but usually you’re not haunted by a Goddess.” Jackson said dryly.
Her hand faltered for half a second. “Who said I was haunted?”
Jo crossed her arms. “You’ve been staring at the ocean for hours. You barely slept. You keep mumbling to yourself.”
“I do not mumble.” she tried to defend herself. Chief barked once.
Arizona shot him a look. “Traitor.”
April leaned against the mast, studying her captain carefully. “You saw her again, didn’t you?”
The deck went quiet. Even Alex looked up from his so-called biscuits.
Arizona kept her eyes on the sea. “She... might have appeared.”
“Appeared?” Jo repeated. “Like-appeared appeared?”
“Like starlight and smug attitude appeared.” Arizona said flatly.
“And?” April’s voice softened.
Arizona hesitated, the memory flickering behind her eyes, Amelia’s hand on her face, the low murmur of her voice, the pull she’d fought so hard not to follow.
“And nothing.” she said finally. “I told her to stay the hell away from my ship.”
Jackson raised a brow. “And did she listen?”
Arizona’s silence was answer enough. Alex gave a low whistle. “You’ve got it bad, Robbins.”
“I do not.”
“Oh, come on!” Jo said, grinning. “You’ve got that face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you pretend you hate someone, but you secretly want to know what their hair smells like.” Jo said matter-of-factly.
April choked on her tea. “Willson!”
Jackson laughed into his cup. “She’s not wrong.”
Arizona’s ears went pink. “You all have way too much free time.”
Chief barked again, as if agreeing with the crew.
Arizona sighed and looked out at the endless blue. The horizon was a line of molten light, and beyond it, she could almost feel Amelia’s presence, faint but constant, like a heartbeat just out of sync with her own.
Behind them, from Arizona's cabin, Callie came out. The blonde still hadn't told them about her, since they just woke up.
"Wait, so you have a thing with that Goddess now? No wonder I had to come to check on you guys." Callie said, making everyone jump, including Arizona. The whole crew turned around to look at her. Chief moved closer to the others, ready to attack if needed.
"What is she doing here?" asked Jo, surprised to see her since she didn't board with them. "And why was she in your cabin, Captain?" she said smugly.
"Fuck." she whispered to herself. This was going to be a long journey. "Everyone, this is Callie Torres, Mark's, uh, wife?" The crew started asking questions, but she ignored all of them and let Callie answer. She was in no mood to be mixed in this mess.
She told herself she was angry.
She told herself this was about the Book.
But beneath it all, in the quiet place she didn’t want to look too closely at, was something else entirely.
Curiosity.
Longing.
Fear.
And a whisper on the wind that only she could hear.
"You can’t run forever, Captain."
Arizona gripped the wheel tighter, forcing her voice steady. “All right, people, enough talking about my nonexistent love life. Adjust the sails. We’ve got a Goddess to find.”
The crew scattered laughing, muttering, alive with motion again.
Only Chief lingered beside her, watching her with those patient eyes. Arizona leaned on the wheel, exhaling slowly. “Don’t look at me like that.” she murmured. “It’s complicated.”
The dog tilted his head. She smiled faintly. “Yeah. I know. It always is.”
And as The Good Man cut deeper into the dark sea, the sun broke through the clouds, lighting her path toward the one person she swore she didn’t care about, and couldn’t stop thinking of anyway.