Work Text:
September
The only good thing about ending work at ten o’clock at night is that the traffic is gone. Trinity’s so dead on her feet she’s surprised she hasn’t passed out behind the wheel, but at least there’s no other cars on the road and she lives far enough away from downtown and the major college campuses where she doesn’t have to worry about random drunk pedestrians wandering into the road.
She sighs and leans her head back against the headrest as she hits yet another unnecessary red light. There might not be anyone else on the roads, but she’s not getting fined for violating traffic laws of all things. She has enough problems already, one of which is sitting in the passenger seat and hugging his backpack like it’s his lifeline.
Trinity still doesn’t know what she was thinking when she invited Whitaker to stay in her spare room. She’s barely known him for fifteen hours and yet after today, it feels like they’ve known each other for a lifetime.
She reaches over to the volume button on the center console and turns the music a little louder. She needs it to fill the silence of the car, needs the sound to seep into the far too many dark corners she and Whitaker saw today.
“Didn’t think you liked rock,” Whitaker says. Even though his voice is quiet, it echoes through the car.
The light turns green. Trinity shrugs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Neither of them talk after that, leaving Trinity’s 80’s and 90’s rock playlist playing softly in the car. She swears she can hear Whitaker humming along to some of the songs, but she ignores it. It has him hugging his backpack a little less tight, and that’s what matters.
She pulls into the lot next to her building and curses when the only spot is on the far end of the lot, in a hidden corner, and next to someone’s giant pickup truck. This is a midrise in Pittsburgh, for God’s sake. No one needs a pickup like this here.
“Jesus,” Whitaker sighs. “That’s like the truck my family has back home.”
“Shut up so I can park, huckleberry.” It’s reflexive and not entirely necessary considering she learned how to drive in Los Angeles, which is about a thousand times worse than this, but the snapping is calming and normal.
She doesn’t check that Whitaker follows her to the building. When she opens the door, she swings it open enough where he’ll be able to catch the door and get himself inside.
“112,” Whitaker says once they reach the door. “That’s an emergency line number.”
Apartment 112, the number written on the wooden door in chipped golden letters. Her cousin once pointed out the humor of a doctor living in an apartment numbered with one of the world’s most common emergency phone numbers, and Trinity still doesn’t find it funny when Whitaker mentions it.
“Yep,” she says as she turns the key in the lock. “Home sweet home.”
She finds herself examining the place like a stranger as she walks in. It’s a small place, just large enough for two people. The kitchen area is to the right, objects still misplaced and dishes still in the sink from when she made breakfast this morning. Just past that is the living area, with an L-shaped couch and a bean bag and a center coffee table. Across from the couch is a TV on a small cabinet, and said cabinet is filled to the brim with books, trinkets, and the occasional physical copy of a medical journal. There’s a door to an in-unit washer-dryer to the left of the entryway, and there’s a door on either side of the living room leading into the bedrooms and bathrooms. The back wall is lined with windows with light blue drapes hanging from them, and the windowsill has a few plants and photos lined up on it.
Trinity drops her bag on a stool next to the kitchen island. “Yours in the room on the right. There should be a towel in the bathroom and sheets in the closet.”
She turns around to see Whitaker still standing in the doorway and looking into the apartment like it’s the most special place he’s ever seen.
She sighs. “C’mon, Whitaker. You live here now, don’t you?” She walks into the kitchen and starts digging through the pantry. “You want ramen?”
“Oh, um, yes please,” Whitaker says.
Trinity grabs two packs of ramen out of the pantry and holds them up. “Hope you can handle spicy food, white boy.”
Whitaker frowns. “Why does everyone keep making fun of me for being white today?”
Trinity laughs. “Not used to it, huh?”
“Can’t say I am.” Whitaker walks more into the apartment. It’s slow, but at least he’s not hovering in the doorway anymore. “I’ll do the dishes.”
Trinity looks up from where she’s rifling through a cabinet for a pan. “Oh. Thanks, huckleberry.”
Quiet settles over the apartment, but it’s a comfortable quiet. It feels routine to reach past Whitaker to get water from the sink to boil the noodles despite the fact he’s been here for ten minutes at the most. Trinity’s gotten too used to living alone since moving to Pittsburgh, and it’s nice to have someone else in the space again.
“What’s your stance on eating this right out of the pan?,” she asks as she’s stirring in some leftover chicken and vegetables from the other day to add something else to the noodles.
Whitaker shrugs. “Whatever you want.”
“Right from the pan it is. Can you grab some forks? Second drawer from the right.”
Trinity sets the pan on the counter. Whitaker hands her a fork.
“To our first day, I guess,” Trinity says. Exhaustion drags at her once more, almost pulling her eyelids closed despite the fact she’s still standing. Her feet ache, her head hurts, and the fact she hasn’t eaten a full meal since noon is starting to get to her.
Whitaker sighs and shakes his head with a smile. “To our first day.”
Trinity laughs when Whitaker takes a bite and immediately starts scrambling around the kitchen looking for a water glass. She keeps laughing as she tells him there’s leftover pasta in the fridge and cereal in the pantry if he wants it instead, and Whitaker joins in on the laughter as he grabs a bowl for cereal.
“If you kill me, there won’t be anyone to do your dishes,” Whitaker says as he grabs milk from the fridge.
Trinity points her fork at him. “First of all, I didn’t try to kill you. You’re just a pasty white boy from the middle of fucking nowhere who can’t handle flavor.”
Whitaker makes a borderline disgusted face. “That was not flavor. That was dropping a bomb on me.”
“Eh, same difference.”
Whitaker sighs and looks up. “Lord, give me the strength to survive living with this woman.”
“Hey! I’m not that bad!”
Whitaker gives her a look that says “yes, you are”, and Trinity can’t help it. She starts laughing, and keeps laughing so much that she’s leaning against the counter and her stomach hurts. Whitaker joins in at some point, the jug of milk forgotten on the counter. The fridge starts beeping because it’s been open for too long, and Whitaker curses it before slamming the door shut.
They make eye contact when they stop laughing. Trinity smiles. “What a fucking day.”
Whitaker nods. “What a fucking day indeed.”
The clock on the stove blinks out that it’s eleven o’clock. Trinity’s working tomorrow as well because she didn’t consider hours of forced overtime when making her schedule, which means she has to be awake again in six hours. Hopefully Whitaker’s fine here by himself. Maybe she’ll leave him a list of things to do. The washing machine’s been making a weird noise, and there’s a coffee shop where she always sees PHD students and other academics working down the street. Maybe he’ll enjoy that.
She sets the coffee maker on its timer so it’s ready when she wakes up. Today was absolute ass, but tomorrow’s a new opportunity. Pitt’s holding a ton of sports matches tomorrow, so maybe they’ll get something cool in the ER. But that’s tomorrow, and for now it’s time to take a shower and go to sleep and try to feel something close to human again before doing it all again.
October
“Motherfucker!”
The door to Whitaker’s room slams open, and Trinity can only imagine how ridiculous she looks right now. She’s perched on the coffee table, sandal in hand as she scans the floor for the stupid little bug that made its way into the apartment.
“Who’s dying?!,” Whitaker asks. His hair is sticking up at odd angles and his crewneck is on backwards, but he looks alert enough.
“No one,” Trinity snaps. “Except that piece of shit wasp that decided to make its way in here.”
Whitaker sighs. “Santos, it’s four in the morning.”
“I was gonna go on a run before work,” Trinity says. She spies movement in the corner and throws her shoe. She misses and the wasp flies up. “Fucking wasp ruined my plan.”
Whitaker blinks. “We don’t leave until six thirty.”
Trinity rolls her eyes. “Just help me catch the damn wasp, will you? You’re the one who left the window screens open.”
“I was cleaning them!”
“They don’t need to be cleaned!”
Whitaker grabs his own shoe from next to the front door and joins Trinity in stalking around the apartment for the wasp. It’s been about a month and a half since Whitaker moved in, and Trinity does have to admit that he’s endlessly helpful. Except when he decides to clean the goddamn window screens and leave the windows open when last she checked window screens don’t need to be cleaned like that.
“Oh my God,” Whitaker says. “Santos, do not move.”
He sounds entirely too scared and thrilled at the same time. Trinity scowls. “What the fuck?”
“Unless you want a giant wasp sting on the back of your neck, stay put.”
Trinity freezes. She’s standing on the coffee table again. She stays statue still as Whitaker climbs up onto the table behind her.
Whitaker slams something against her neck. “Okay. Caught it. I need to slide a paper between your skin and the wasp.”
“Hurry it up, huckleberry!”
“I’m going as fast as I can without hurting you!”
After what feels like five hours, Whitaker steps back with the wasp caught in a glass. He flips the glass and the paper over on the coffee table. “There.”
Trinity steps down off the table and takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Whitaker.”
Whitaker yawns. “No problem. Want a friend on your run?”
“Not really,” Trinity sighs. “But you’re awake anyway, so why the hell not?”
They run four miles and race the last one back to the apartment. When they get back, Whitaker offers to make french toast for breakfast with the stale bread from the back of the pantry. Trinity breaks out her matcha stuff and makes them both iced matcha lattes because she learned three days ago that Whitaker’s never had matcha before.
They sit at the counter and Trinity quizzes Whitaker on things he might see during his residency interviews while they eat. On the drive to work, they sing along to Whitaker’s country music playlist at a volume that’s entirely inappropriate for six thirty in the morning.
November
With November comes the cold settling over Pittsburgh and Victoria’s 21st birthday.
Victoria tried to insist they don’t do anything, but fuck that. Trinity got together with Samira and Mateo to plan something, which is how she ended up stone cold sober in the corner of a sticky bar that has entirely too many college undergraduates for her liking. She could barely handle these places while drunk and high out of her mind back when she was in undergrad, and it’s so much worse while sober. But she and Mateo volunteered to be sober at this, and she’s not about to go back on her word.
Mateo is currently on “make sure Victoria gets suitably drunk for a 21st birthday but not so drunk she does something irreversibly stupid” watch. Trinity is counting to make sure everyone is still accounted for. Samira and Mel are by the bar counter quizzing each other and some poor, blackout drunk pre-med and nursing students on anatomy because of course that’s the kind of drunks they are. Victoria and Mateo are clearly flirting, and Trinity does not want any part in that mess. Donnie, Kim, and Dennis are doing shots on the other side of the room. Princess left at the last bar because she decided to join them even though she’s working tomorrow.
Trinity takes a sip of her Diet Coke that she spent entirely too much money on. Victoria and Dennis move on from this rotation next week when Pitt goes on Thanksgiving break. Trinity’s working on Thanksgiving and is really hoping she sees some juicy family drama play out while she’s on her shift.
She checks the time. It’s nearing one in the morning, and all of them live far enough away where they should get going. She catches Mateo’s eye and taps her wrist like it’s a watch, and he gives her a thumbs up.
They gather everyone outside before going their separate ways. Samira, Mel, and Victoria are staying at Trinity and Dennis’s place. Samira and Mel live too far away to make it home in this state, and no way in hell are they letting Victoria within her parent’s sight when she’s this messed up.
Trinity raises an eyebrow when Mateo presses a kiss to the back of Victoria’s hand like the romantic he is. He rolls his eyes at her.
The Apartment 112 crew stumbles into Trinity’s car five blocks away. Samira claims the passenger seat and starts pressing buttons to connect her phone to the car’s bluetooth.
“Alright everyone, one rule,” Trinity says as she turns the car on. “If you puke, you pay for this car to get professionally cleaned. So if you think you’re gonna hurl, tell me to pull over.”
Samira puts on pop music and turns the volume too high. Mel leans her head against the window. Dennis cracks the window on his side open. Victoria and Samira start shouting along to the music. Trinity drives slower than normal because Dennis looks like he’s going to throw up at any moment.
They make it into her apartment by some miracle. Dennis immediately ducks into his room and shuts the door. Mel starts looking around in the kitchen, and Trinity trusts her enough to let her be.
She places a hand on Victoria and Samira’s shoulders. “Alright, you two. Let’s get you to sleep.”
Victoria laughs. “But ‘m not tired.”
Samira nods. She has this adorable, wide smile on her face, and her curls are just barely messed up and falling in her face. She’s beautiful, but Trinity can’t focus on that right now. “Me neither.”
Trinity sighs. “Alright. Well, let’s at least get your makeup off.”
By the time she’s coaxed Victoria and Samira to take their makeup off, change their clothes, and go to sleep, it’s almost two thirty. Trinity sighs as she closes the door to her room. She left Samira and Victoria asleep on her bed, so she’s going to have to stay in the living room with Mel.
She ducks into her bathroom to clean herself up. She takes a quick shower and changes into a well-worn pair of black sweatpants from gymnastics nationals during her senior year of high school and a dark green University of Hawaii sweatshirt.
Mel is sitting on the couch when Trinity walks back into the living area. She’s drinking something out of Trinity’s joke mug that says “don’t confuse your Google search with my medical degree” on it.
“You can shower in my bathroom,” Trinity says. “There’s an extra towel in the cabinet.”
“Maybe later,” Mel answers. She looks down into the mug. “Your mug is funny.”
Trinity smiles. “Yeah. Thanks”
She walks over and sits down on the other side of the couch from Mel. Of everyone she works with at PTMC, Trinity would say she still knows Mel the least. It’s definitely Trinity’s fault, because she avoids Mel to avoid questions about what happened to Langdon.
Everyone knows what happened by now. How couldn’t they, when they had to check all the benzos in the department and order an entire new supply of Ativan because they couldn’t trust what vials were tampered with and which ones weren’t? It’s also out in the open that Trinity reported him because someone got wind of the audit and the accusation and tried to sue, and Trinity got named in the case. It got resolved before they even went to court, but not before the word got to the entire damn hospital.
They might have only known Langdon for one day, but of all the people who started that day, Mel got the closest to him and was noticeably upset when the news broke. And Trinity’s in agreement with everyone else when the thought of seeing Mel sad or disappointed makes her want to bolt. Well, Trinity’s probably the only one who wants to bolt, because she’s emotionally stunted like that. Any normal person would’ve just let the conversation happen by now.
“Did you go to the University of Hawaii?,” Mel asks.
“What?,” Trinity says. She looks down at her sweatshirt. “Oh, no. My ex-girlfriend from med school went there for undergrad.”
Mel raises an eyebrow. “And you still have her sweatshirt?”
Trinity shrugs. “It’s comfy and she never took it back.”
Mel nods with an expression that says “fair enough”. She takes another sip of whatever’s in her mug. “You know I think you did the right thing, right?”
Trinity freezes. Oh shit, are they about to have the Langdon conversation? “Not sure what you’re talking about.”
Mel sets her mug down on the coffee table. “You do. It’s not that hard to figure out that’s why you’re avoiding me. I figured I’d confront you about it so things can go back to normal.”
There’s something in Mel’s tone that crumples Trinity’s heart into a tiny ball. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Mel says. She takes a deep breath. “I admired Dr. Langdon, but there’s no reason he should’ve been around patients.” She shakes her head with this semi-disgusted look on her face. “He asked me to vouch for him.”
Trinity blinks as she tries to process what all of that means. “Like, he asked you to make a case for why he wasn’t stealing?”
“Yep.” Mel shakes her head. “I told him no, obviously. Addiction is one thing, but stealing is another.”
It sounds like a mantra that Mel’s repeated to herself over and over. Trinity doesn’t know what to say, so she lets it hang between them. She had no idea what any of the others thought about her reporting Langdon, but at least she has one answer now. Hopefully the others feel the same.
“It’s not your fault that you didn’t notice,” Trinity says. “Most people wouldn’t.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Mel picks up her mug again and takes another sip before standing up. “Where’d you say the extra towels are in your bathroom?”
“Under the sink.” Trinity holds out her hand. “I’ll wash your mug.”
Mel smiles. “Thank you.”
Trinity washes the mug before looking for spare blankets and a pillow or two for her and Mel. By the time she’s made a somewhat functional place for them to sleep, Mel’s out of the shower. They stand there, Trinity next to the couch and Mel in the doorway to Trinity’s room.
“So,” Trinity says in an attempt to break the awkwardness between them. “Wanna watch something?”
Mel walks over and flops back onto the couch. “As long as it’s not Elf.”
Trinity pulls the blanket up over her legs. “Elf?”
“My sister loves it,” Mel clarifies with a small smile. “She insists we watch it every time, but there’s only so many times I can watch it before going crazy.”
Trinity nods and pulls a face she hopes is funny. “No Elf then. What’s your opinion on 10 Things I Hate About You?”
Mel grins. “Oh hell yeah.”
Trinity looks at Mel with a grin of her own and grabs the remote. Mel’s asleep after ten minutes, and Trinity finds herself dozing off at around the movie’s halfway point. She yawns as she pauses the movie and turns the TV off. She just manages to drag herself off the couch to turn the lights off and make her way back under the blankets before she’s fast asleep.
Trinity’s the first one awake the next morning at a lovely eleven AM. Her head is pounding even though she didn’t even drink anything. She starts the coffee pot just as Dennis walks out of his room.
“I feel like a mouse died in my mouth,” he says.
Trinity grimaces. “Disgusting. Also, Mel’s still sleeping.”
“Sorry,” Dennis whispers. “I’m never doing shots again.”
Trinity snorts. “Yeah, I’ve said that one before.”
Dennis sighs and leans back against the counter. “So have I.” He digs his phone out of the pocket of his red and white flannel pajama pants that are University of Nebraska branded for some reason and smiles.
Trinity leans forwards from where she’s standing across from him so she’s looking at his phone upside down. “Who’s got you smiling? Is it Kim?”
Dennis hugs his phone to his chest. “You’re so nosy! And yes, it is Kim.”
Trinity makes a grab for Dennis’s phone, but he dodges. “Tell her to come over. Oh, and she should bring donuts from that killer place by her apartment. I’ll split the cost with her.”
“Noted.”
Trinity abandons her attack on Dennis’s phone in favor of waking everyone else up. She lets Mel sleep because Mel is an angel, but Samira and Victoria are another story.
Trinity slams the door to her room open. “Rise and shine, my beautiful co-workers!”
Samira groans and rolls onto her stomach. Victoria doesn’t react, which would be more concerning if there weren’t currently three doctors and one med student (not counting Victoria) in this apartment.
Trinity walks into the room and throws the blinds open, which has Victoria swearing and Samira dragging a pillow over her face.
“Too early,” Victoria says.
“It’s eleven,” Trinity responds. She drags the pillow off of Samira’s face and leans close. “Kim’s bringing donuts from that place by her apartment.”
Samira’s eyes slowly blink open. She bats Trinity away from her face. “Be up in a minute.”
Trinity throws the pillow at Victoria. “Great! I made coffee.”
Mel’s up when Trinity walks back into the living area. After a few minutes and some more shouting, Victoria and Samira walk into the kitchen.
Victoria lays back down on the couch. “Is this what people feel like when they get run over?”
“No,” Mel answers matter of factly. “That is what people feel like when they have about five too many drinks.”
Victoria makes a displeased sound and covers her head with a blanket. “I’m never drinking again.”
Samira walks over and hooks her chin over Trinity’s shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve said that one before.”
Trinity smiles. “Been there.”
Mel shakes her head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna stick.”
“All of you shut up ,” Victoria groans.
“I didn’t even say anything!,” Dennis protests.
“Shush,” Victoria says, waving her hand around. “Too loud.”
Trinity’s entirely too focused on the fact Samira is currently leaning against her to comment on that. Dennis looks at them and raises an eyebrow, and Trinity glares at him.
Mel’s working on getting Victoria off the couch with insistences it’ll be more helpful than just laying there. Samira detaches herself from Trinity and grabs a couple glasses and fills them with water.
“Kim’s on her way,” Dennis announces.
Samira cheers. Victoria starts complaining about the noise again. Mel gives up on being civil and physically drags Victoria off the couch.
Trinity smiles as she starts setting up a small coffee station. Kim walks in about ten minutes later with a dozen donuts and Mateo, and everyone laughs when Victoria hides herself under the blankets again at the sight of him.
Her apartment is a contained chaos after that. Mel turns on whatever football game is going on right now. Mateo is trying to coax Victoria out from under the blanket. Samira sits at the counter and tells Trinity about how she’s thinking about getting a Masters in Public Health once she’s done with residency.
Trinity snaps a picture of Dennis and Kim sitting on the floor and talking. They’re leaning against the wall with their heads close together and looking at something on Kim’s phone. She texts it to Dennis with a message to just ask Kim out already. She knows he saw it when he glares at her from across the room.
December
Langdon shows up on Christmas.
Trinity’s sitting on the couch in her comfiest sweats and fluffiest socks, buried under a blanket, eating ice cream, and watching A Charlie Brown Christmas after her shift. Today was actual hell on Earth. She swears she’s never heard so many family arguments in the ED before, not to mention the not one, not two, but three instances of someone shoving an ornament up their ass. Seriously, what is wrong with people?
She hates to admit it, but it’s lonely around here without Dennis. She’s gotten far too used to his presence, and now that he’s in Nebraska for Christmas, she doesn’t really know what to do with herself. The rest of her friends are all either with family or working the night shift today, so here she is watching A Charlie Brown Christmas and eating gingerbread cookie ice cream that Dennis bought last week and watching the snow fall in delicate clumps outside her window.
Someone knocks on the door. Trinity frowns and ignores it, but then the person knocks again. And again.
Trinity gets up. She grabs a knife from the kitchen just to be safe even though no one is really running around committing crimes in her neighborhood.
She pops up on her tiptoes and looks through the peephole. Is that…no, it can’t be.
Trinity opens the door, knife in one hand and hood on her sweatshirt pulled up and her sweats long enough where they’re dragging on the floor over her fluffy pink socks.
Sure enough, it really is Langdon standing at her door. He looks much worse for wear than the last time she saw him. His hair falls flat, the text on his deep red long sleeve is faded, and one of the knees on his jeans is so worn out that it’s probably going to rip soon. There’s snow dusted in his hair, over his shoulders, on the edges of his jeans.
She closes the door.
“Wait, Santos!,” Langdon shouts. He kicks his foot out to stop the door from closing. “Just listen to–is that a knife?”
Trinity looks down at her left hand. “Maybe.”
Langdon looks at her like she dropped down from another planet before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. Just hear me out.”
Trinity grips the knife tighter. “How’d you get my address?”
Langdon grabs his phone out of his back pocket and fumbles with it for a moment before showing Trinity the screen. “From Whitaker.”
Trinity reads the texts. That traitor. And to think she was thinking about how much she misses him not even two minutes ago. “Don’t you have a wife and kids to spend Christmas with?”
“I’ll explain it to you if you let me in.”
Trinity debates stabbing Langdon’s foot and calling an ambulance purely to make him pay the excessive fee. However, she really doesn’t need a stabbing on her record, so she steps aside and lets Langdon in.
“Don’t touch anything,” she warns as she slides the knife back into its container with more force than necessary.
Langdon nods slowly and just stands right next to the wall by the door to Trinity’s room. “Abby and the kids are at her parents’ place.”
Trinity leans against the kitchen counter with her elbows. “Okay? So why aren’t you with them?”
Langdon pointedly looks at the floor. “Her parents didn’t want me around. Said I’m a hazard, among other delightful things.”
Even if she’s not Langdon’s biggest fan, Trinity knows that’s bullshit. Langdon hasn’t been a hazard in months. He hasn’t come back to the ED, but she knows from some of the others that he’s back at home and takes care of his kids while Abby works. Abby, as Trinity learned recently, has a job with Allegheny County Public Health and works closely with the PTMC Street Team. She’s apparently extremely intelligent and very kind, at least according to Dennis and Kim.
“Assholes,” Trinity mutters. She clears her throat and taps her fingers against the counter. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here specifically.”
Langdon shrugs. “Thought I owed you an apology.”
Now it’s Trinity’s turn to look at him like he just dropped down from another planet. “That’s stupid.”
“It’s warranted,” Langdon pushes. He sighs and slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. “I fucked up.”
“Yep,” Trinity shuts it down with that, because dwelling on this is pointless. She walks over to where he’s sitting and sits down next to him after a brief moment of consideration. She leans her head back against the wall and looks up at the ceiling. “When are you coming back to work?”
Silence. Trinity listens to the creak of the building as it settles into the weather. Someone upstairs is stomping around, and shouts and laughter from a party next door filter in through the wall. If she focuses hard enough, Trinity can hear faint Christmas music.
“I’m not,” Langdon answers. He sounds tired in ways Trinity’s only heard in people at their lowest.
Trinity looks at him with a confused expression. “The fuck does that mean?”
“I lost my damn license, Santos. That’s what happens when you steal drugs from a hospital.” Langdon laughs, but it’s a short, bitter sound. “It could’ve been worse.”
Trinity knows all the ways it could’ve been worse. He could’ve gone to court or gotten a patient killed. One of his kids could’ve found a loose bag of pills and accidentally taken one. He could’ve gotten divorced. He could’ve died.
“I’m sorry,” she says, even though it’s not her fault. “I was-”
“-just trying to help,” Langdon finishes. He sighs. “You did, by the way. You did help.”
Trinity blinks fast and stares at a blank spot on the floor in front of her. She’s not going to cry over this. She’s not even sure why it makes her so emotional all these months later, and yet there’s a thick knot of emotions pushing at her ribs and begging her to cry or put them into words or anything.
“I blamed you for the whole thing for a while,” Langdon says. It’s more of a whisper really, a small sound confessed into a too empty apartment. “I was stuck in this loop of ‘if only Santos hadn’t reported me’, and I was like, fixated on how different things would’ve gone if you never said anything. I thought everything would be perfect if it stayed a secret, but all it would’ve taken was one misstep with a patient or some other observant co-worker for things to fall apart anyway.”
Trinity scrubs at her eyes with her hand. “Can’t see any of that in an addiction though.”
“No,” Langdon replies through a sigh. “You cannot.”
More silence. The person who lives next door just did something to warrant a cheer from their guests.
“How’d you figure it out so fast?,” Langdon asks.
Trinity chews on the inside of her lip and picks at a loose thread on her sleeve. “I’m smarter than you.”
“Ha ha,” Langdon says flatly. “Has anyone ever told you that you should pursue comedy instead of medicine?”
Trinity smiles slightly. “Nah. I’m too mean for that.” She takes a deep breath. She’s really about to tell Langdon this, isn’t she? “When I was younger, my best friend and I had a series of…negative experiences with an older man. Our gymnastics coach, actually. How fucked is that? Before the Larry Nassar investigation too, so no one would’ve believed us if we even thought to tell them.”
“Santos, you don’t-”
“You wanted to know how I figured it out, right?,” Trinity interrupts. She shakes her head and laughs, an echo of Langdon’s short, bitter laugh earlier. “My friend couldn’t take it anymore. She killed herself with an overdose.”
More silence. The party next door seems to have calmed down at least. There’s no more laughter and Christmas cheer filtering through the wall into Trinity’s apartment.
“I’m sorry,” Langdon says. It’s stilted and awkward and would be entirely insufficient for most people, but Trinity doesn’t care.
“It’s fucking ridiculous,” she replies, her voice cracked and scratchy and her head spinning and her chest tight. Hot, thick tears fall down her face. She’s crying in front of Langdon of all people. How stupid. “I just became more aware of warning signs after that, I guess. Couldn’t save her, so I have this complex where I have to save anyone else or I’m a fucking failure, I guess.” She rests her head on her knees and shakes her head. “Ridiculous.”
Langdon doesn’t say or do anything. He just sits there while she cries, and Trinity’s grateful for it. If he started trying to comfort her, it’d be a sign she was in an entirely different reality.
“My two year old is in a preschool gymnastics class,” Langdon says after a few minutes. “She’s really good at it, by the way.”
Trinity chokes, her body unsure how to react as she’s caught between laughing at Langdon’s entirely inappropriate anecdote and crying from her little breakdown. “What the hell?,” she manages between coughs.
Langdon shoves his phone in her face. “Look at how cute she is.”
Trinity does have to admit that Langdon’s daughter is very cute in her pink t-shirt and purple leggings as she balances on a balance beam that’s barely a few inches off the ground. “Your bedside manner has gotten even worse.”
“I got you to stop crying, didn’t I?”
Trinity shoves his hand out of the way. “Shut up.” She stands up and brushes imaginary dust off her pants. A Charlie Brown Christmas is still paused on her TV. She looks down at Langdon. “...wanna watch A Charlie Brown Christmas?”
“You know what? Why not.” Langdon pushes himself to his feet and pockets his phone.
They sit down on the couch, and Trinity restarts the movie. Langdon laughs at all the jokes like he’s five and never heard them before. Trinity rolls her eyes everytime.
January(ish)
It’s 11:57 P.M. on New Year’s Eve, and Trinity’s standing outside the main entrance to her apartment building with a half empty drink.
Somewhere back in her apartment, there’s at least ten people watching the ball drop on the TV like it’s actually important to anything. The whole place is a mess of gold confetti and too many 2026 decorations and a bunch of emergency medicine specialists (and med students) who spent the whole day working and then came to Trinity and Dennis’s apartment right after. Langdon’s not around since he’s spending New Year’s with his family, and Mel promised her sister they’d spend the holiday together, but the others are here. Samira, Princess, Mateo, Donny, Kim, Dennis, and even Victoria. Trinity’s impressed that she managed to sneak past her parents to get here.
Trinity takes a sip of her drink. Dennis made it, and she’s not entirely sure what it is, but it tastes good even though it’s watered down and lukewarm by now. The cold bites at her fingers and her face, and her breath is visible when she exhales.
“How’s it going out here?”
Trinity turns towards the door. Samira’s standing in the doorway with a small smile on her face. She has gold glitter speckled around her face and in her hair from Victoria’s attack on all of them earlier. Besides that glitter, none of them are dressed up because that was just too much effort post shift, and Samira’s no exception. Her gray sweatshirt looks thick and comfortable and warm, and her navy blue pajama pants are patterned with white stars. She’s wearing a pair of Trinity’s fuzzy socks and stole Trinity’s spare pair of sandals to walk out here.
“Peaceful,” Trinity responds with a smile. “How’s it in there?”
Samira settles into the spot next to her. “Well, Victoria’s mom called and everyone stood around the table like her phone was an active bomb.”
Trinity laughs. “Naturally. Did she answer?”
“Nope.” Samira sighs and looks up at the stars. “Proud of her for that.”
“Yeah,” Trinity says, tilting her own head up. “Me too.”
“What were you like at twenty-one?,” Samira asks after a moment.
“An asshole,” Trinity answers immediately. “And a horrible student. It’s a miracle I even got into med school, honestly. You?”
“A people pleaser,” Samira says. “And a tryhard who didn’t do anything except study.”
Trinity looks at her watch. It’s 11:59 now. What a year it’s been. She can’t wait for it to be over.
Samira scoots closer so her arm is pressed against Trinity’s. “So.”
Trinity looks at her with a smile. She reaches over and brushes a loose curl behind Samira’s ear. “Yeah?”
Samira twines their fingers together. “What’s this gonna be in the new year?”
Trinity’s breath stutters. She and Samira have been dancing around this for awhile, but she didn’t think Samira would ever confront her about it. It wasn’t that much to build on anyway. Some fleeting touches, drunk flirting, a few knowing looks and inside jokes exchanged at work.
“Because I have an idea,” Samira says. She leans closer.
Trinity forces herself not to look down at Samira’s lips. “What is it?”
“Coffee, this Saturday.” Samira’s eyes flick down then up again. “If you want.”
Trinity smiles wider. “It’s a date.”
Samira’s smile mirrors hers. “Happy New Year, Trinity.”
Fireworks boom in the distance. An ambulance siren screeches down the street. Pink and blue and gold and the bright porch light a sparkle in the glitter on Samira’s face.
“Happy New Year, Samira.”
They kiss as another round of fireworks lights up the sky.
February
Victoria shows up at the door one snowy February day.
“Trinity!,” Dennis shouts into the apartment.
Trinity is too busy laying face down on the floor of her room after an evil shift that involved a thirteen year old girl who fell while on the run from an adult stalker and parents who somehow did not give a shit about the whole thing. And of course Trinity ended up running point on that mess, but at least Mckay, Samira, and Collins were all in her corner about getting something done about it.
She still drags herself off the floor because Dennis does sound very worried. “What is it?”
She walks out of her room to Victoria sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Mckay is pacing around the kitchen, and Dennis is standing awkwardly between it all and gives Trinity a desperate look.
“Dr. Mckay,” Trinity says, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Mckay makes a ‘come closer’ gesture with her hand.
Trinity frowns and takes a quick glance at Victoria. This can’t be good.
“What is it?,” Trinity asks in a whisper once she’s next to Mckay.
“I don’t know,” Mckay answers. “She just showed up at my place in tears. I couldn’t get much other than some mentions of her mom.”
Trinity takes another look back at Victoria. “So why are you here specifically?”
Mckay sighs. “I thought you could help. Heard this place is a bit of an emergency room in its own right.”
“That’s one word for it.” Trinity takes a deep breath. “She can spend the night here, but there’s no space for her here long term.”
“Just try and figure out what’s wrong,” Mckay suggests. She shoots a worried glance in Victoria’s direction. “She’s been fighting with her mom a lot, apparently.”
Trinity watches as Dennis offers Victoria a mug of tea. “How’d you learn that?”
“I pay her to watch Harrison sometimes,” Mckay answers. “When Mateo’s busy.”
Trinity nods slowly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Mckay’s relief is clear on her face. “Thank you. Let me know how it goes, alright?”
“I will.”
Mckay leaves, and Trinity walks over to the couch. Dennis is already sitting on Victoria’s left, so Trinity takes a seat to the right.
“So,” Trinity says. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?,” Victoria says, her tone drenched in distress. “I don’t even fucking know anymore.”
Trinity meets Dennis’s eyes over Victoria’s head. He shakes his head. So he didn’t have any success either.
“I mean,” Victoria continues, cutting off what Trinity was going to say. “I only told my parents I want to withdraw from med school. You know, the thing they’ve pushed me towards since the goddamn womb.”
Oh wow. Trinity really wasn’t expecting that one.
Victoria keeps rambling, her breath coming in short bursts and tears streaming down her face. “You know what it feels like when you’re in the emergency department and there’s almost fifty people in the waiting room and both trauma rooms are full but there’s an ambulance on the way and there’s people lining the hallways and you’re just staring at that board wondering what the hell you’re supposed to take next because there’s just hurt everywhere and it’s all so overwhelming you want to cry and then next thing you know someone’s dead and you just have to keep going and-”
“Victoria,” Trinity interrupts, placing a hand on Victoria’s back because she’s not sure what else to even do. “Breathe.”
Victoria nods and takes rapid, shaky breaths. “It’s…it’s not working.”
“Slower,” Trinity insists. “Copy what Dennis is doing.”
“Right,” Dennis says. Trinity’s so thankful for the fact he’s just going along with the fact she volunteered him to calm Victoria down. “Ready? Breathe in, 2, 3, 4. Hold 2, 3, 4. Out 2, 3, 4. You alright? Okay, again-”
They continue like that for a few minutes until Victoria’s breathing evens out and her tears have almost stopped. Trinity breathes out. Crisis one, solved.
“Do you think you can tell us what happened?,” Trinity asks. It feels like she’s talking to a patient, and maybe that’s the best way to approach this. Pretend like Victoria is a skittish, emotional patient. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
“Well,” Victoria says, wiping at her eyes. “My mom and I were already arguing about something, and then it just came out. I told her I was sick of it and that I’m withdrawing at the end of the school year.”
Trinity rubs circles on Victoria’s back. “And then what?”
Victoria looks down at her hands. “Yelling. She told me I’d regret it and to reconsider. I told her I wouldn’t, and then she told me to get out.”
Trinity stalls. She’s not equipped to handle this one, not after today. Her emotional response skills are firing on level zero when they need to be somewhere around level six or seven out of ten to deal with this. She spent all her careful emotional negotiation energy at work today on that case, but now Victoria needs her. She just needs to-
“I’m sorry,” Dennis says when Trinity doesn’t respond. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
“Thanks,” Victoria replies. She sniffles. “Did I mess up?”
“No,” Trinity answers immediately. “You didn’t. You stood up for what you want. That’s never wrong.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
Dennis sighs. “It never does.”
There’s another story to uncover about him there, but now’s not the time to press that issue. Trinity moves her hand from Victoria’s back and carefully moves on prying her fingers off the mug she’s gripping in her hands. “Do you know what you want to do instead of medicine?”
Victoria shrugs. “I haven’t had much time to think about it.”
“Well,” Dennis says with a smile. “Now’s as good a time as any to start.”
Victoria smiles too. It’s a small thing, but it’s something. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
March
March means residency match day.
Trinity is certain that Dennis is going to wear some kind of hole in the floor with all of his pacing leading up to the day. She can’t blame him, but coming home from work and seeing her stressed out MS4 roommate pacing around their apartment is never a good feeling.
All the worrying was for nothing though. Dennis matches into emergency medicine at PTMC, and it’s only overshadowed by the very awkward conversation that Trinity makes with Dennis’s mother about how she’s his roommate and nothing more. Trinity thinks it’s sweet that Dennis’s mom and oldest brother made an effort to fly out to Pittsburgh for his match day, but Dennis doesn’t seem to think so. She doesn’t press. Suboptimal family situations are something she understands better than most.
By now, it’s hours past that fateful moment where Dennis opened his envelope. He and Trinity are laying on the living room floor with an empty bottle of champagne sitting between them. They’re still wearing their formal clothes from the event, but they’ve both ditched their blazers.
“So,” Trinity says as she stares up at the ceiling. “What’s next?”
“Graduation, a break,” Dennis answers. “Then another first day in The Pitt.”
Trinity laughs and turns her head to face him. “We should go somewhere.”
Dennis raises an eyebrow. “Can you even get enough days off for that?”
Trinity shrugs. “Who cares? Let’s just dream big for now.”
She hears an ambulance drive by and wonders what kind of case might be inside. She’ll learn tomorrow, but for now she’ll listen to Dennis ramble on about how they should go camping or take a roadtrip or some other infinitely bigger possibilities.