Arizona Robbins loved her job more than just about anything.

Being a pediatric surgeon—operating on tiny humans, as she liked to call them—brought her a kind of joy and satisfaction that nothing else could match. Every successful surgery, every scared kid she managed to make smile, every parent she reassured with genuine confidence—it all reminded her exactly why she’d chosen this specialty in the first place.

But some days, whether it was after a particularly grueling surgery schedule or just because she wanted to, Arizona made her way down to the hospital’s free clinic to volunteer. It wasn’t glamorous work—no dramatic surgeries or life-saving heroics most of the time—but it mattered. The clinic served people who couldn’t afford regular doctor visits, families who fell through the cracks of the healthcare system, kids who needed care but whose parents didn’t have insurance.

And there was a significant lack of pediatric doctors willing to put in clinic hours.

Arizona couldn’t have that.

So here she was, pushing through the clinic doors with her signature bright energy, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing her biggest smile. Her blue eyes scanned the waiting area and patient beds, looking for any pediatric cases that needed attention.