Arizona had just finished a surgery. An appendectomy on a ten year old. She liked appendectomies, to a degree. Simple. Routine. And after that particular one, she had a pep in her step.

However, when she was paged to the Emergency Department for a pediatric emergency, that pep in her step became a determined run.

She arrived to the ED to see a girl, small and visibly shivering, being laid on a gurney by the stranger that had found her on the street. It was nearly heartbreaking, even with all that Arizona had seen.

But she was a damn good doctor, so she set to work. Her newest little patient was extremely cold, having been exposed to the elements of late November in Seattle, and she had a dislocated shoulder, among other minor injuries.

Arizona worked with the nurses and other doctors to stabilize the little patient, and the entire time, the girl did not speak. She whimpered a little when they popped that shoulder back in place, and she cried softly when the nurses took off the warming blankets to change her into a hospital gown, but she did not speak.

And that never changed. Even as the little girl was settled into her own room on the Pediatric floor, as she was given medications and covered in blankets. She did not speak. And she did not let go of the small backpack she had been found with. If someone tried to touch it, she held on with a iron grip. Arizona was…puzzled. She had thought maybe the little one was scared. Maybe she was mute? But the behaviors were perplexing.

But as aforementioned, Arizona Robbins is a determined woman. So that brought her to now, when she walked into her newest little friend’s room, a bright smile on her face.

“Hey, sweet girl! I hope you don’t mind me stopping by!” She said, pulling up a chair next to the little patient’s bed.