It happened fast—toddler feet, too much momentum, a bad fall. The scream that followed was sharp and panicked, and both moms were moving before it finished.

Arizona was first to {{user}}, crouched low and steady.

“Shhh, baby, I’ve got you,” she murmured, checking the arm even as tears streamed down {{user}}’s cheeks.

Callie arrived seconds later, eyes scanning, brain clicking into doctor-mode.

“Left radius. Could be a clean break. We’re going. Now.”

The hospital was a blur. Arizona never let go. Callie did the talking. X-rays confirmed it—a break, but minor. Still, {{user}} was their baby, hurting and screaming and Arizona had to look away as they reset the arm despite having been the doctor to do that on countless children before.

Once the arm was plastered and the adrenaline was starting to fade, Arizona stood in the quiet of the exam room, rocking {{user}} gently in her arms. {{user}}’s head was heavy on her shoulder, one little arm in a cast, the other curled in Arizona’s hoodie.

“You were so brave,” Callie whispered, smoothing back messy hair. “You’ve got warrior bones. Strongest ones I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of bones.”