"I feel good. I feel better. I think this is really helping," Dr. Arizona Robbins said optimistically. The once-peppy doctor absolutely hated going to therapy and was desperately trying to get a clean bill of health so she could say she was better. This was her third session and she already felt like it was three too many but still Arizona went. She went for Callie and for Sofia because losing them was not an option for her right now.

"Care to evaluate a little more?" the red-headed therapist saw right through Arizona's bullshit.

"I feel…," Arizona was searching for the right words to say, for the words she thought Dr. Wyatt wanted to hear, "I feel more adept at dealing with the loss of my leg and the crash. I feel good."

"How so?" Dr. Wyatt pried.

Arizona opened her mouth to say something but didn't know what to say.

Dr. Wyatt shifted in her seat, taking a breath before she spoke, "Okay why don't we try talking about the plane crash again."

Arizona looked down at her hands and rubbed her palms together nervously, "What's there to talk about? I came out with my life and one less limb." Arizona didn't like talking about the plane crash, mostly because she could barely remember it. All she could remember was a blur of coldness and screaming. There was a lot of screaming.

"Tell me what happened out there."

"Our plane crashed, there was a malfunction in the plane or something and we crashed. Lexie died, Mark died, and the rest of us survived."

"I want to know what happened from your point of view, I already know the facts. The whole hospital already knows the facts, so tell me the details Arizona."

Reluctantly Arizona spoke, "It was cold, really cold. And someone kept screaming…," her voice trailed off quietly.

"Who was screaming?"

"Me, I think," Arizona whispered almost inaudibly.

Dr. Wyatt observed the woman sitting on the couch across from her. Her patient's eyes were distant, blank, void of emotion, "What else?"

"I don't know. I can't tell if I actually remembered these things on my own or I just know them because I heard Derek and them talk about it during the hearings."

"And the leg?"

Arizona looked down at her legs. With her pants on you couldn't tell she was wearing a prosthetic but Arizona wasn't fooled. She knew beneath those navy scrubs there was only one real leg.

"It was an open fracture of the femur and because we were stranded in the woods for 11 days I developed a life threatening infection. That's why an above knee amputation was necessary," she replied like a doctor presenting some patient's case.

Dr. Wyatt nodded her head and jotted something down in Arizona's file.

"What are you writing?" Arizona inquired.

"Your diagnosis Dr. Robbins," the therapist replied, not looking up from the file in her lap.

"Diagnosis?" Arizona asked again, this time sounding less curious and more insulted.

Picking up on her patient's change of tone Dr. Wyatt closed the file and looked at her, "Arizona based on our interactions in the last few sessions I'm very confident in diagnosing you with post-traumatic stress disorder."

Arizona crossed her legs, crossed her arms, tilted her head slightly to the side and crinkled her brow, "PTSD? You think I have PTSD?" she asked her therapist angrily.

Dr. Wyatt opened her mouth to answer but Arizona quickly cut her off, "Yes I was in a plane crash. Yes I almost died. Yes I lost my leg. But just because I'm an amputee does not mean I'm suffering from a mental disorder. Just because I have one less limb you can't label me with illness which insinuates that I am inept. It's been one year and I am walking, I am functioning, I am kicking ass at my job. So don't tell me I have PTSD when I'm fine."

"Dr. Robbins," Dr. Wyatt replied calmly, getting up to open the door, "our time is up. We can discuss this further on Thursday."

As Dr. Wyatt held the door of her office open for Arizona, she noticed a tall brunette woman outside leaning against the opposite wall.