Sparks In Scrubs | Arizona Robbins X Reader

One Step Closer

**Y/N's Perspective**

The physical therapy room at Grey Sloan was a place I had come to both dread and appreciate. The walls, lined with mirrors and various pieces of equipment, reflected more than just my progress — they mirrored my doubts, my fears, and my determination. Today was the day I would find out if these six months of hard work had paid off. If I was ready to return to surgery.

I took a deep breath as my physical therapist set up the first test.

"Alright, Y/N. We'll go through some standard assessments. Let's see where we are with both arms," she said, a reassuring smile on her face. "We'll start with your right, then the left."

The first test was simple: grip strength. I squeezed the handheld dynamometer with my right hand, feeling the strength in my fingers, my wrist, and my forearm. The machine beeped, registering a solid score. No surprise there. My right arm had fully healed and felt as strong as ever.

"Perfect," Sarah said, jotting down the number. "Now the left."

I switched the dynamometer to my left hand. For a moment, I hesitated, feeling a pang of doubt creep into my chest. My left arm had been the hardest to recover. Even now, six months post-op, it didn't feel as stable as the right. But I shook off the thought, tightened my grip, and squeezed.

The resistance felt different. My left hand didn't have the same force, and I could feel the tremor start to build in my forearm. I squeezed harder, but the shaking only got worse. The machine beeped, and Sarah glanced down at the score, her expression neutral, though I could read the concern in her eyes.

"Still a bit of weakness there," she said, scribbling something on her clipboard. "Let's move on."

I nodded, trying to shake off the frustration. One test. It was just one test. I still had plenty of others to go, and I knew I could compensate with my right. But the tremble... it was like a reminder of everything I was fighting against.

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I left the PT room with mixed feelings. My left arm had faltered during one of the tests, and I couldn't help but feel a knot of frustration tightening in my chest. I had come so far in these six months, but that tremor— it was a reminder that I wasn't quite where I wanted to be. Still, it was out of my hands now. All I could do was wait for the official word on whether I was cleared to return to surgery.

I made my way down the familiar halls of Grey Sloan, heading to the attendings' lounge where Arizona said she'd meet me after her rounds. The hospital was bustling, the usual controlled chaos, but I couldn't focus on any of it. My mind was stuck on those damn tests.

As I pushed open the door to the lounge, I was met with an unexpected burst of energy.

"Surprise!"

The room was filled with balloons, streamers, and — of course — cake. Standing in front of me were Jo, Alex, April, Meredith, Jackson, and Arizona, all grinning like they had just won the lottery. Arizona stepped forward, a proud smile on her face.

I blinked, taken aback, and laughed. "It's not my birthday, you guys."

Arizona grinned wider. "We know it's not your birthday. This is a little celebration for how far you've come."

April chimed in, stepping up beside her. "Arizona told us about your final tests today, and we wanted to celebrate your progress!"

I looked around the room, the colorful balloons contrasting with the familiar, serious atmosphere of the lounge. Their smiles were wide and genuine, and in that moment, I realized just how much I had needed this. The stress of the tests, the endless recovery, and all the self-doubt had been weighing on me, but seeing my friends — my family — here for me made it all feel lighter, somehow.

"Thanks, guys," I said, putting my bag down on the sofa. I felt a surge of emotion as I hugged Arizona first, her arms wrapping tightly around me. She knew how much this meant, even without me saying it. Then I turned to April, who pulled me into one of her classic, enthusiastic hugs.

"You're going to be fine," April said, squeezing me tightly. "You've worked so hard for this."

I smiled, the nerves still fluttering in my chest. "I hope so."

Jo gave me a playful nudge from the side. "If you're not ready, Bailey would happily have you as a full-time skills lab teacher," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I laughed, shaking my head. "No offense to the chief, but I'd rather be in the OR than teaching a bunch of interns how not to cut themselves."

They all chuckled, the room buzzing with warmth and support. It was exactly what I hadn't known I needed today — a reminder that no matter what the tests said, I wasn't alone in this. Whatever was next, I had these people at my back. And that made everything a little less terrifying.

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The drive home was quiet, the kind of comfortable silence that Arizona and I shared when there was nothing left to say, but everything still felt connected. My mind was still buzzing with thoughts from the PT tests, from the surprise celebration, and from the uncertainty of what would come next. I watched the city lights blur by as Arizona drove, her fingers occasionally tapping against the steering wheel in rhythm with whatever song played softly in the background.

As we approached our apartment, I was trying to mentally decompress when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen — Chief Bailey.

I froze, my heart suddenly racing. "It's Bailey. What should I do?" I blurted, panic creeping into my voice as I turned to Arizona, frantic.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Answer it, Y/N! Hurry!" She waved her hand in an exaggerated fashion like I was about to miss the most important call of my life.

With shaky fingers, I swiped to answer and held the phone to my ear. "Hello, Chief Bailey. How can I help you?"

Bailey's voice was direct as always, cutting through my nerves. "Dr. Y/L/N, I just reviewed your PT reports, and I'm clearing you for surgery. You're officially allowed back in the OR. Start with light cases, but you're back."

I blinked, the words sinking in slowly, like I hadn't heard her right the first time. "Wait, what?" I stammered, trying not to let my excitement show. "I mean, uh— thank you, Chief. I appreciate your time and consideration."

I hung up, still clutching the phone tightly in my hand, and turned to look at Arizona. A massive grin began to stretch across my face as the reality hit me all at once.

"I just got cleared for surgery."

The words hung in the air for a beat before Arizona's face broke out into a bright, joyful smile. In an instant, we both lunged at each other, grabbing each other in the tightest hug possible. She pulled me closer, and before I could even process what was happening, we were kissing — deeply, happily, like we were celebrating the biggest win of our lives.

When we finally pulled away, still grinning like idiots, Arizona's forehead rested against mine, her breath coming out in little huffs of laughter. "You're back, Y/N. You're really back."

"I am," I said, my heart swelling with pride and happiness. "I'm really back."

And as we sat there in the car, holding each other in the soft glow of the streetlights, it felt like all the hard work, all the pain and struggle, had finally paid off. I was ready to be a surgeon again.