Sparks In Scrubs | Arizona Robbins X Reader

Awakening

**Arizona's Perspective**

It’s been a week since Y/N’s accident, and my world has shrunk to the size of this ICU room. The days blur together, each one starting and ending with me by her side, watching for any sign of her waking up. But every morning, every evening, it’s the same—nothing.

Amelia ran head CTs more times than I could count, trying to find some explanation. Some reason why she’s still not waking up. But they all came back clear, not a single clue to hold on to. The scans were clean. Her brain should be fine, but still, she lies there, motionless, trapped somewhere I can’t reach.

I haven’t left the hospital since the night it happened. I can’t. I won’t. Going home would feel like giving up on her, and that’s not something I’m willing to do. My apartment feels like a distant memory, a place that doesn’t make sense anymore. This room, with its sterile walls and the steady beep of the monitors, is where I belong now. It’s where I need to be.

Everyone’s been telling me to rest. April, Owen, Meredith—they’ve all tried to convince me to take a break, to go home for just a few hours. But I can’t. How can I rest when she’s still lying here like this? What if she wakes up and I’m not here? What if she needs me?

I’ve been surviving on hospital coffee and sheer willpower, but I’m exhausted. My body aches from sleeping in this uncomfortable chair, my eyes burn from crying and lack of sleep, and my heart... My heart feels like it’s being torn apart, piece by piece, every day that goes by without her waking up.

I reach out and gently hold her hand, her skin cool beneath my fingertips. "Come on, Y/N," I whisper, my voice barely audible in the quiet room. "Please wake up. I need you to wake up."

But there’s no response, not even a twitch of her fingers. I lean forward, resting my forehead against our joined hands, feeling so utterly helpless.

Amelia warned me, though. Even if Y/N wakes up—no, when she wakes up—there’s going to be an entirely new battle waiting for her. When Amelia performed a neuro exam on the burnt areas of her arms, she found extensive nerve damage. Nerve damage that could take months, to recover from.

PT is going to be gruelling, and the thought of Y/N having to go through all that pain, all that frustration, makes my chest tighten. She’s so strong, but this... this is going to test every bit of her strength. And it kills me that there’s nothing I can do to take that burden away from her.

But I’ll be there. I’ll be there for every step, every stumble, every victory, no matter how small. She won’t have to face this alone. But right now, all I want is for her to open her eyes. To give me a sign that she’s still in there, that she’s fighting to come back to me.

"Please, Y/N," I whisper again, my voice cracking. "Please, come back to me. I can’t do this without you."

But the only response is the steady rhythm of the machines, the sound of life being sustained, but not lived. And so I sit, and I wait, hoping against hope that today will be the day she wakes up.

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It’s late, and the hospital is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, pressing down on me like a weight I can’t shake off. I haven’t been able to sleep, not really. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Y/N lying there, motionless, trapped in some unreachable place. So, I sit here, my hand wrapped around hers, waiting. Always waiting.

The door creaks open, and I glance up to see April walking in, carrying a brown paper bag. "Here," she says softly, holding it out to me. I barely look at it before turning my gaze back to Y/N.