𝙓𝙓𝙓𝙑𝙄𝙄𝙄.
CRASH INTO ME

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A LOUD CRASH filled the room, causing me to jolt upwards.

Cold sweat coated my skin and I instantly cringed, my muscles going rigid with the pain of my cracked rib.

"Fuck." I winced, cradling my chest.

"Fuck." Said an invisible voice, hidden in the shadows of my bedroom.

The room was dark aside from a single source of light, what looked like some sort of torch on my bedroom floor.

It must've been the dead of night and I'd been sleeping peacefully until the disruption. Now, alarmed and still vaguely disorientated, I was sat upright in bed (much to the dismay of my ribs) and staring blindly into the depths of the night.

My chest heaved, blood pumped in my ears, the sheets slick and sticky against my skin— I reached out an arm, attempting to slap the bedside lamp to life.

Light chased away the shadows, illuminating a rather peculiar scene. I'd been fully prepared to fall into some true crime documentary, faced with some looming figure over my bed. Instead, the light burned into my sleepy eyes causing me to wince.

Then, very slowly, I peered over at the guilty expression on Charlie's face.

"Hi." I said, eyebrows raising as he stood there, in the middle of the room.

He was stooped, his hand going downwards to pick up the torch that he'd dropped. My tone was sleepy, confused, I squinted and bit back a yawn that was threatening to spill out of my lips.

"Hi," was his sheepish reply.

A glance at the floor told me that it wasn't the torch that had disrupted me; I leant forwards (much to the dismay of my ribs) and caught sight of a rather large suitcase that was on it's side, looking very sorry for itself. When I looked back at him, he was rubbing the back of his neck, shaking his head slowly.

"I am so sorry— do you want me to get your painkillers—"

"It's okay."

It wasn't okay. Sleep was the only time I ever got to myself these days.

The holiday season was heating up and sleep was currently my favourite pastime. My voice was husky, not in the sexy just-woken-up-way but in the i-want-to-pass-the-fuck-out-again-way.

"What time is it?"

"3am."

Oh it definitely was not okay. 3am meant my call time at work was 5 hours away and I'd only, so far, had two hours of sleep. I'd had a late night doing paperwork and had eaten a cold leftover pastrami sub from the deli for dinner. My body craved unconsciousness.

My chin lifted very slowly and Charlie frowned. "Go back to sleep— I don't need the light on, it's okay— I didn't mean to disturb you—"

"It's okay." I yawned, not even realising that I'd repeated myself.

My body descended back downwards, eyelids fluttering slightly as my head hit the pillow. Charlie moved around in the background, hauling his suitcase off the ground and back onto it's wheels.

I was tired enough that I almost dozed off with the lamp in my face, but I felt the bed dip as Charlie came and sat beside me, his hand resting on my lower leg.

"When's your flight?" I mumbled into the comforter.

"Two hours." He was whispering, his tone dropping as I laid on my back, chin pressed against my left shoulder, away from him and the light. His fingers lightly traced a pattern through the comforter. I heard him take a breath. "Are you sure you can't come with me?"

I didn't respond. I wasn't sure whether it was because I just didn't feel like having this conversation again or the fact that I was already half-asleep when he asked. Charlie waited for a few moments, as if hoping for me to spring out of bed and rush into the closet, ready to stuff a suitcase full of clothing.

Instead, my eyes parted very slowly and I peered down at him, a yawn scratching at the back of my throat— his gaze was hopeful. I smiled sadly.

It was Christmas Eve and that translated into one of the busiest days of the year.

Everyone else had taken time off for the holidays, Helen was gone, Eli was already thousands of feet in the air and Mable had just gone home for the hell of it. No one wanted to the holiday shifts and this year, with the promise of holiday pay, I'd been duped into working it.

As much as lying in a penthouse in Boston for three days eating a tv chef's delicacies sounded like heaven, it wasn't as welcoming as a fat pay check.

"I have work today, babe."

"I know." He leant over and pressed his lips against my forehead, mumbling against my skin.

In the lamplight, he looked pale and in need of this break.

"I have a feeling it'll be busy... there's heavy snow forecasted. That'll probably keep everyone busy." Charlie seemed to pause. "I feel bad leaving you alone-"

I turned my head towards him, looking directly up at his frown. "Don't," I said softly, slowly waking up. As much as I wanted to go back to sleep, I couldn't bare the thought of him leaving while feeling guilty. "It's my fault. You started talking about this ages ago— I just keep forgetting that Christmas is all—"

"Family time?" He offered when I cut myself off. He cocked his head to the side, moving stray hairs out of my face. I bit my lip, looking away. "But— Remember the Christmas in France?" I chewed on my lip, playing with his fingers as he took my hand. His eyes glittered slightly. "That was probably the best Christmas I've ever had and I wasn't even home."

Because you were there.

The pause was noticeable.

There was the extended hesitation again, the same one that had plagued him on Thanksgiving and caused him to stay. I felt the need to change the subject. Instead, I began a pre-rehearsed speech.

"You deserve a break." I insisted quietly.

We both knew that he had to go to Boston. It was a family affair that he really couldn't miss. He'd already missed Thanksgiving and if missed Christmas too, there'd be hell to pay.

He'd gotten away with previous years as he'd been halfway across the world in community kitchens, patching up traumatised victims in war zones or deep off the grid as he'd been in France.

This year, only being a flight away and being in constant communication with his older brother, the odds were stacked against him.

"So do you." He frowned at me.

"I'll get one." Was my indifferent reply.

When I'm not trying to rebuild my savings.

I couldn't afford to not work, the savings I had were still suffering from my questionable choices in the last decade.

"Maybe we can go back to France in the summer?" I suggested sleepily, "Go visit Rose and Calum?"

I didn't know how to properly explain the expression on his face. The only word I could think was soft. He smiled. "Sounds like a dream."

He pressed his lips to the side of my forehead and (with my insistence) left the lamp on.

I buried my face into the comforter as he continued his packing, throwing the presents he'd wrapped for his family members the night before. Sleepily, I listened to the soft slap of his feet against the floorboards.

He was such a gentle being, never heavy-footed or hasty, even in a brewing last-minute mania that he was caught in. In fact, as I burrowed deeper into my bedding, I realised how out of character it was for him to do anything last-minute.

He was the sort of person who prepared for things month in advance, thought everything out, definitely packed and prepared for things far too early.

This time, however, he was almost caught off-guard.

At this thought, I squinted over at him, watching him rifle through the closet.

His usual method of organisation was completely out of the window, with him aimlessly tossing things in the direction of his suitcase. His shoulders were noticeably tense.

I shifted into a sitting up position, my brow furrowing— by the time I was sat upwards, I was wincing. Charlie seemed to notice; he turned to face me, a dent appearing in between his eyebrows.

"Painkillers?"

I replied with a short shake of my head, fingers dancing over my lower torso. Despite my insistence, he disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing with a shaky smile. He tossed a medicine container in my direction, I caught it and squinted at the label.

It was bizarre, really. I didn't want to take pills anymore. It felt wrong.

Maybe the money (well, Calum's money) that I'd pumped into therapy had actually paid off. Even Tylenol was beginning to set me on edge.

Everything I did felt like it was a sure way to a relapse and I was beginning to get cautious. You could never be too careful.

I sighed. Case in point.

"Crap, did you pack my pills?"

The word opioids glumly stared back at me and Charlie grimaced. I passed them back to him and he opened his suitcase, exchanging them for the Tylenol he'd mistakenly packed away. I pressed a kiss to his knuckle as he popped a few of my painkillers into my hand and handed me the glass of water that I'd filled the night before.

I sighed as I swallowed the still water. "Last thing I need this holiday season... is a relapse."

A relapse really wasn't what I needed right now.

He froze. "Sorry."

"S'kay," I yawned, looking up at Charlie with hooded eyes. "It's too early to get anything right."

His smile brightened a little bit and I was struck by how handsome he was. My heart felt mushy. He was watching me closely, as if he was catching every single micro-movement of every muscle in my face. My lip twitched. I must've looked like a mess.

"You alright there?"

"Mhmm." His voice was breathy.

"Good."

His fingers interlocked with mine and I squeezed onto it, tightly. The room was cold but his hand was warm, the warmth spreading across my aching body.

He bridged the gap in between us, pressing his lips onto mine; we moved softly to avoid disrupting my ribcage. My fingers tousled deep into his hair and he smiled into my lips.

His hand cradled my chin. It was a nice, soft and gentle kiss that had me breathless as he parted. I gazed up at him as he drew backwards, biting my bottom lip.

"I'm going to miss you, you know."

I chuckled, leaning backwards tenderly, resting my elbows into the pillows and letting my head loll onto my shoulder.

I watched as he traced patterns into my leg, the comforter having shifted backwards to reveal a stretch of pale thigh. His touch was soft and almost natural, like goosebumps racing across my skin.

My muscle jittered slightly, wanting to squirm. He resolved to tapping my knee almost habitually.

"It's only 3 days, babe."

My reply caused him to groan. Almost melodramatically, he rolled his eyes, pushing his hand through his hair. He'd grown stubble over the past few weeks that had almost grown into a beard (I was really not one to complain, I really had a thing for a good unruly beard) but had shaved it the night before for his mother. He leant towards me and I held his chin, stroking the smooth skin.

At his frown, I shook my head. "Don't worry about me. I'm a big girl. I can look after myself."

"I'm not worried."

His breath lingered against my lips and then we were kissing again— this time, it got a little bit heavier. I winced but it was swallowed up by a lot of heavy breathing.

Despite this, I kept going, letting him very softly lean me back into the bed. It was the shit like this that I liked. Making out like we were guilty teenagers, everything very meaningful but impassioned at the same. It'd been a while since we'd done this, with the two of us being very adulty and busy— it made my stomach go into knots and my brain start writing a long speech to stop him from flying to Boston today.

It wasn't until, in the heat of the moment, I made the mistake of hitching a leg around his waist as he leaned over me, that I realised we definitely weren't teenagers.

"Oh fuck."

It wasn't a very pleasant sounding moan, more like a deep guttural groan that had Charlie instantly recoiling backwards. His eyes were wide with alarm, seeing the tears that sprung into my eyes as I pouted at my own stupidity, pressing fingers to my side. My teeth buried themselves into my bottom lip as I inhaled sharply.

"Forgot about that for a moment—"

"Are you—"

"I'm fine." I insisted. He gingerly got off the bed, looking extremely troubled. "It's not your fault, Charlie— Doctor's orders, I completely forgot—"

His lips were still pressed into a grave line. "Okay, I just—"

"If you apologise..." I glowered at him from my crumpled position on the bed, my lips quirking and giving away the fact I was very appreciative of him. "I swear—"

He quirked an eyebrow, the graveness slowly filtering out of his eyes. Instead, they sparkled mischievously.

"You swear what?" Charlie's challenged caused me to scoff.

"You dummy," was the best that I could come up with. "You shut your stupid handsome face."

I must've had a thing for guys with egos; he sent me a wide smile and ambled out of the room, looking noticeably handsome and noticeably up-himself.

His hair was messy and he shook his head as he dragged his suitcase into the living room. When he returned, he looked busy. Not feeling particularly tired anymore, I grabbed my phone and scrolled through text messages.

The banner at the top of the display read 3:24am. I bit back a sigh.

"I'm worried about the weather." Charlie commented idly, walking in and out of the bathroom.

I looked over my text messages at him, in the middle of sending a reply to Eli. The nurse, who I'd recently crowned my new best friend (felt out of taste to leave the title with Amy seeing as she, according to Addison, was still on some drug fuelled rampage around California), seemed to never sleep.

He was like some sort of vampire, only texting me when something amused him. Tonight, it was Seinfeld reruns.

"You'll be fine."

I didn't sound too involved with the conversation, just mumbled while tapping out a reply to Eli's late night ramblings.

"It's already snowing," He was stood by the window now, staring over the road and towards the hospital I was due to be at in 5 hours. I grimaced at the thought of it and drew the comforter tighter around me. "And it's forecasted pretty heavy all day... and in Boston." If I'd paid more attention, I would've seen that he was genuinely concerned.

"Well, if your flight in cancelled then they'll have the wrath of Donna to contend with." Charlie met my eye as I looked up, comforter tucked under my chin and arms shoving my cell phone to the side. I must've looked funny as he chuckled. "That's a fight that I'd pay to see—"

"Okay, okay." He stood at my bedside once again and rolled his eyes. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Go back to sleep."

It felt oddly like a parent tucking their kid in and saying goodnight; I found myself pouting over at him as he went to turn away.

"What? No bedtime story?"

He laughed louder this time. "Go to sleep. You'll be grouchy in the morning and Derek will have it in for me."

I didn't quite remember what happened next. I assumed that I spent the next hour or so dozing comfortably after Charlie turned off the light.

The next thing I can remember is Charlie gently opening the door, a slice of light falling into the bedroom from the kitchen. His voice was a low whisper and he shook my shoulder very gently. I woke softly, too disorientated to appreciate the nicer way he'd woken me up this time.

"I'm leaving now."

"Okay." I smiled at him blindly in the darkness. "Fly safe."

I heard him chuckle.

"I will. I love you, B."

I mumbled back something incoherent.

***

"Boston? huh." Derek looked amused, "Sounds like nice holiday plans."

My ex-brother-in-law laughed at the look on my face as he passed me my morning coffee. I scrunched up my nose, grimacing at the way he shook his head at me.

We were stood outside, snowflakes descending through the air and making things feel aggressively Christmassy. I just scowled at everything in distaste; a Beth with little to no sleep was not a friendly Beth. Derek seemed to gauge this.

The conversation about where Charlie had flown to this morning ground to a halt and Derek felt the need to remind me that he'd queued up (despite his extremely busy work schedule) for me to be caffeinated. I just shot him a rather resigned look, thanking him curtly from the morning beverage, all while fighting to get snowflakes out of my hair.

Charlie had been right.

The light snow from earlier this morning had thickened into a snowstorm, with the beginning of it descending onto the city.

I'd half expected to hear a tap at the door as I'd prepared to leave and to throw open the door to find Charlie on the other side of it, speckled with snow and beaming at the thought of staying in Seattle.

But no, I'd received the text message that he was safely boarded just as I'd left at 7:30: his flight had been delayed but, thankfully, not cancelled quite yet.

"Did you not fancy a change in scene?"

Despite before, Derek gently prodded the topic of Charlie's trip home. He seemed interested in discussing something that I was trying not to think about. In reality, my blasé shrugging off of Charlie's 'I'm going to miss you' had been a attempt to stop myself from getting mushy. In reality, I'd been the exact same.

Derek waited for a few moments as we reached the elevator, he squinted at me. "Ah, you're still a humbug, huh?"

"I'm not a humbug." I said tightly. "I just don't like Christmas that much. I don't get the hype around it."

I didn't. I really didn't. Maybe that was another reason why I was working this Christmas instead of going to Boston. Derek gave me a look. I caught it out of the corner of my eye.

"Hey- don't give me that—"

"Boston sounds nice." He tried again, knocking me out of my morbid memories. My face twisted.

"So does sedation." I murmured to myself, taking my place beside him and watching the floor numbers pass. "But beggars can't be choosers."

"Is it nice?" Derek continued vaguely, the two of us standing side by side. I swallowed my coffee very shortly and shrugged, not quite sure what to reply with. "Is his family nice?"

"They're lovely."

He gauged my expression closely, eyebrows raising as I shrugged again.

"So his family isn't the problem?" I gave him a dry look, averting my eyes away from him. With a short nod, Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh."

"What?" I asked immediately, not liking his tone.

I turned to face him completely, eyebrows drawn down on my brow. He looked amused again, tight-lipped and just glancing at me in short intervals.

I frowned. "What?"

Derek was acting as if he understood all of the questions in the universe. I went to badger him about it, but the elevator grinder to a halt, giving him and opportunity to exit.

He turned, inclining his head to me and ambled off into the direction of the same staffroom Mark had dragged me to last week.

I was left alone, staring blankly ahead.

"Hold the doors!"

I punched the button quickly, catching sight of a hand as it threw itself through the door. I frowned as the doors opened once again, revealing a rather tousled looking Arizona.

She met my eye and smiled hesitantly, foot stopping the elevator from going anywhere. For a moment, I thought she was going to join me, but then she didn't move— She wanted something.

"What is it?" I asked with equal hesitation. Her smile wavered.

"It's about Toby."

My stomach knotted and I was shaking my head before she'd even finished. "No."

"Beth-"

"I'm not getting involved." My voice was sharp and I watched Arizona's mouth curve into a frown. For someone so happy and bubbly, she looked so sad. She attempted to speak but I cut her off— "No, I'm not getting involved with anyone in that family."

"I have concerns." She spoke quickly, rapidly with determination. I gritted my teeth, refusing to meet her eye. "I have concerns about him. Please, just look at the case."

"Doctor Robbins..." I pressed my lips into a thin line. "I don't—"

"Please, you're the only psychiatrist who is free." Dammit.

"I don't—"

There was a small queue behind Arizona.

A nurse tapped her on the shoulder, asking to enter the elevator. The blonde paediatrician blushed, embarrassed for causing a disruption. Sighing, I walked towards her, joining her outside.

I watched as the elevator left, taking all of the disgruntled hospital staff to their floors.

"There's something wrong." Arizona continued. I met her eyes. She searched mine for an indicator that I agreed with her. I hadn't noticed before but she had case files in her hands, a thick binder of manila folders. "I have Petunia's medical folders— she has another kid right? A kid from her husbands first marriage— things are just not adding up."

"I can't get involved." I couldn't. "Petunia will kick me off the case even if I agree."

It was futile, there was no point in me agreeing with her, even if I did want to take on the case.

There was no way that Petunia would consent to me being in the same room as either of the kids.

"Please." She was begging. "Just look at the files."

We stared at each other for a few moments, her blue eyes pleading with me.

I opened my mouth and then closed it again. Behind my frown, my brain was spinning quickly. I looked from the hopeful expression on her face to the files that she was holding out to me, an invitation to get into what I was sure would end up to be an absolute shit storm.

I sighed.

My hand appeared before me, outstretched.

She grinned. "Yay!"

We caught the next elevator up into the psychiatry department, Arizona talking to me the whole time.

I flipped through the medical file, perusing over the details inside. She'd passed me Petunia's medical information, which immediately had me regretting agreeing to help her.

"I thought this was about Toby?"

Mable wasn't on the front desk today. A psychiatric nurse gave me a solemn nod as I walked past.

The whole department was decorated in holiday decor, a Christmas tree blinked at me as I lead Arizona towards my office.

"Richard wants to contact Child Protection Services." She spoke as soon as the door had closed behind us. Arizona sounded small, wringing her hands. My head snapped upwards quickly.

"CPS?" I couldn't quite fathom what was happening. "Why? Do you think Petunia's neglecting her kids?"

Petunia was many things but my head was spinning at the thought of her abusing a child.

I gazed down at the file that was open on my desk. I tried my best not to look at things that weren't necessary; as much as I hated the witch, invading her privacy like this just felt gross.

I pressed my lips together, wobbling about as I swapped the boots I'd been sliding around in, for some more respectable looking shoes. Arizona rearranged the papers.

"How did you even manage to get Petunia's medical file?" I was momentarily very suspicious. "Aren't you the Head of Paediatrics?"

"I got them from Callie."

"Okay?" I was still lost.

"Petunia broke her arm in the crash, Mark put her on the case."

She drew out two x-rays, setting them in front of me. Arizona didn't attempt to explain them to me; I stared down at them, using what I remembered from medical school to understand exactly what I was seeing.

"There's the break." I tapped a finger against a noticeable line. She'd done a very painful-looking number on her humerus. Something didn't look too right here. "This doesn't look normal— does this align with her history?"

"There's nothing about them." Arizona sounded resigned. "I looked through all of her history— there's nothing. No record of her going to the ER for any of these— makes me think that there's something she's trying to hide."

I knew that I shouldn't have gotten involved. Let the records show that I hadn't wanted anything to do with the situation.

Arizona stared at me as if I would suddenly have all of the answers to all of her questions. I just let out a long breath, crossing my arms over my chest. I didn't know what to say— I really, really didn't want to get involved.

"The husband?"

"He flew in from New York this morning with the second son."

"Is she still married to the oil tycoon?" She raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on my weird knowledge of Petunia's love life.

"I think he's in a tech startup so I'm going with no." Arizona pressed her lips together tightly. It was weird seeing her so grave, I'd gotten so used to her bright and bubbly attitude. Now, she was wearing the floor thin, pacing back and forth as she attempting to come up with a different explanation. "But what if..."

"What?" I asked patiently.

"What if we're wrong?" She looked extremely worried. I sighed.

"We can only do what we can with the evidence," I collected the papers back together, putting them back into the binder, "I still don't get why you needed me to look at this?"

"I think," Arizona hesitated. "I think I might just be imaging things—"

She ran a hand through her hair. It was then I noticed that she had Christmas badges decorating her doctors coat, a bauble hanging from her pocket. Compared to my office, she looked overwhelmingly festive.

"I'm usually a big advocate for them. I love tiny humans," Arizona said, "They're always so gentle and happy and excited— and I'm not sure whether my tiny human senses are broken but—"

"Arizona?"

She stopped herself and took a breath. "Toby. Something isn't right."

"Okay." I would be lying if I said that I hadn't sensed it. "You said that there was a second kid. Can you pull his medical file?"

"That's the thing..." Arizona scrunched her nose. "Jacob, the eldest son— he was admitted this morning. Petunia was discharged last night and them were at their hotel together for ten hours— Jacob fell down the stairs and fractured his wrist—"

"Fuck." I murmured. "I'm assuming you—"

Wordlessly, she dropped Jacob's medical notes onto my desk. I grimaced. I didn't even want to look at them.

"Let me guess—"

"Worse than his stepmother." She confirmed gravely. "The poor little guy is full of unreported broken bones. I just—"

"What do you need me to do?"

Arizona pulled herself back together. I watched as the determination reflated her shoulders, life drew back into her eyes as the Arizona Robbins I recognised was suddenly stood in front of me.

I had to give it to her, she was full of fire, that girl.

"Talk to Toby. Just help me sense of this."

"Petunia's not going to let me anywhere near that boy." I said quietly, lowering my voice as if she was in this very room. She was like that, the sort of presence that plagued every corner of every room. At the thought of it, a shiver raced down my spine. "Mark'll kill me if he finds out that I'm involved."

"Mark's not a problem," was Arizona's simple reply. I must've looked confused so she expanded. "Didn't you hear? He flew out with Sloan last night to California, your sister is doing the surgery." I bit the inside of my cheek but didn't comment. "And as for Petunia— I can sort something out. How long do you need?"

I had no fucking idea. "As long as you can get me, I guess? I have no idea—"

"Fab!" Despite the grave topic, the pep in her step returned. Brightly, Arizona grinned, hugging the files to her chest tightly. I blinked at her, sensing some very strong disassociation.

The paediatrician just bounced on the balls of her feet, looking excited to get moving.

"You should have gone to Katherine with this," I stated, already feeling an stress-induced migraine. "I really shouldn't have even opened those medical files— why not go to the head of psychiatry with your concerns?"

"I thought you knew Petunia Greenman?" Arizona appeared bewildered. Greenman? Sounded like she had remarried. "I thought she was a friend of Addisons. I thought that you might be able to give some perspective— with you two being friends."

I stared at her, my eye twitching a little bit. Friends? I'd never once considered myself to be anything more than a nuisance to Petunia and for her to be an acquaintance to me. Arizona stared serenely back, clearly not knowing the whole situation.

The only reaction that I could stomach was a rather miffed laugh.

"She hates me." I don't think anyone had ever hated me as much as Petunia had. It wasn't an unfounded hatred either, I was pretty sure I was the reason Mark had ditched her all those years ago. "She despises me, really. She's already cussed me out."

"Oh." Arizona's eyes widened and she looked down at the papers. "Well— she doesn't need to know—" Again, I found myself just wordlessly staring at her, mouth opening and then closing again as if to coax something out of me. "I can bring him to the canteen? You can just talk to him I—"

"I don't know what I'm doing." I said quietly.

"Of course you do."

I sighed. "No— my thing is trauma— I'm here to council people through trauma. Even if Toby does have a mental disorder that might be connected to this— I don't know whether I'd be reliable to diagnose it."

"We'll figure something out."

Arizona seemed so optimistic, so bright and full of energy. It was definitely disassociation. Despite the cheerful time of year, she was implying something that was extremely morbid. I massaged my forehead— it looked like it was going to be a very painful and long day.

"Okay," I breathed out, giving in. "I'll just—"

An interruption cut me short; Arizona held up a finger, attention immediately swinging to her pager. I fell quiet, already mentally running through all of the reading that I was going to need to do. I really didn't want to do this, but, if Arizona was right and there was no one else on hand...

I would have to do my job. When I looked back over at her, she was frowning down at her pager as it flashed and screamed at her. Once again, the enthusiasm drained out of her face. She spied the phone on my desk.

"May I?" Arizona nodded towards it and I stepped back, allowing her to quickly poke in the number for whatever department it was that was paging her. She didn't look hopeful for whatever reason. "Hi, this is Doctor Robbins responding to the page..."

Her brow furrowed.

"Is it urgent?" A look of horror suddenly appeared on her face. "A plane?"

I wasn't particularly listening, I was too busy looking through the bookcase of medical journals in the corner of my office. I heard the thud of the receiver and Arizona inhale sharply— I turned to face her, eyebrows raised as I realised the change in mood. I looked from her to the pager in her hand, brow furrowed.

"What is it? A trauma?"

"A plane went down in downtown." She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "They're ten minutes out, they want all hands on deck downstairs— Dammit, Toby's going to have to wait until later, okay—"

I watched, frozen to the spot as Arizona slapped all of the files onto my desk, muttering to herself as she prepared to go downstairs into the ER.

"I'll leave these with you," She said, "but steer clear of Mrs. Greenman and her family. We don't need any lawsuits on our hands—"

"Wait."

"I'm going to go." Arizona was rambling, distracted. "Make sure you lock up those files and please, pretty please don't lose them. I don't need any lawsuits on my hands. Callie would hate me."

"Wait-" I was still processing what she said. "Did you say a plane?"

"Yes." She said, turning to me. "Downtown."

My face went numb.

"Which flight?"

Charlie.

:)