Chapter Text
Baran glanced at Trinity, gaze assessing her sincerity. She was not afraid to ask for help, but she found herself unusually nervous about the other woman’s reaction. Maybe it was because of Robby’s less-than-stellar reaction, or maybe it was because of something else, which Baran was not willing to look into.
“In 2020, I did Médecins Sans Frontières. In Afghanistan.”
Trinity didn’t say anything, just giving her the space to talk, her gaze unrelenting.
“I worked at a maternity hospital. I..” she paused, swallowing back the lump in her throat. “It was blown up. Suicide bombing.”
“Jesus,” Trinity breathed.
Baran kept her gaze firmly trained on the road, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes.
“It was an incredible experience overall. I met some incredible people. But that.. it overshadowed most of the joy. Of the good we did. Because of it, I came home with some severe PTSD.”
“That’s unsurprising, considering all that you went through,” Trinity replied, her voice gentler than Baran had ever heard it. It made her heart squeeze in her chest as she hummed her agreement.
“Yes, that’s true. It wasn’t surprising. But it was hard. My wife didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t either. It got bad, and as if PTSD wasn’t enough, I also developed PNES.”
Baran could see Trinity’s eyebrows raise in her peripheral vision, before she quickly smoothed her face back to neutral sympathy.
“Seizures?” she asked gently, just to confirm. They both knew what it was — they were doctors.
Baran nodded, her grip on the wheel tight as she navigated the busy streets.
“Robby saw me have one. He interrogated me about it, so I told him,” Baran said, exhaling a shaky breath.
“From what I’ve heard, he wasn’t too happy about it?” she asked gently.
Baran laughed, but it was more of a sad exhale.
“No, he wasn’t. He thinks it makes me incapable. He barely left today, because he doesn’t think I can manage the ED.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Trinity replied, anger seeping into her voice. “I watched you today. You are very competent.”
Baran chewed on the inside of her cheek, feeling the anxiety churn in her gut.
“He’s not wrong. Time is critical in treating emergency patients. How am I supposed to run the place if I go catatonic? It may only be for seconds, but what if those seconds are the reason someone dies?”
She could feel the frustrated tears burning behind her eyes, and she blinked them away. All her career, male colleagues had been given the advantages, and had been seen as better, smarter, more capable than her. Baran had long moved on from that feeling of inadequacy, had worked on her mental health issues, and yet, it was a challenge she could never escape.
“What triggers them?” Trinity asked after a moment, her eyes still not straying from Baran’s face.
The question surprised her. She had expected her to offer empty consolations, tell her something along the lines of “it’ll all work out” like her ex used to say.
“Pediatric cases,” Baran replied, feeling herself relax slightly, grip loosening on the wheel.
Trinity’s response was unusual — she wanted to understand, not placate her and ultimately leave her to deal with it herself. The thought loosened her chest, a warm feeling replacing the previous, anxious one.
“Do you have a therapist?”
“Yes. And a neurologist,” Baran said.
“Okay. Well, let them know about today, for sure.”
“I did. I called my neurologist during the shift.”
“You’re very on top of your shit, you know that?” Trinity remarked, a hint of teasing in her tone.
Baran laughed again, but this one had more sincerity in it.
“I am,” she confirmed.
“We will figure something out,” Trinity said, voice growing quiet. “Some way to help you, but that still keeps you as our attending, because frankly, I think the pitt needs someone like you.”
Baran raised an eyebrow, feeling remarkably lighter at her words.
“The Pitt?” she echoed.
“Oh, yeah. It’s what we call the ED. Y’know.. Pittsburgh, and it’s a pitt of chaos.. I don’t know. Robby came up with it. He gets in trouble for calling it that all the time.”
“I can’t imagine Gloria likes that name.”
“She hates it. She’s always coming down with her clipboard and glaring at Robby when he says it.”
Baran laughed again, the last bits of tension in her body finally seeping out. She turned the corner, finally pulling into her neighborhood with a small sigh.
“What did you mean by a person like me?” Baran asked, finally glancing at Trinity.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed, but nobody in that place has their shit together. I love Robby, I do, but he was not being fair today. Everybody’s upset, me included, and it makes it hard to work. We need someone who does have their shit together.”
“I’ve noticed,” Baran said dryly, hitting the button fastened onto her mirror to open the garage as she pulled down her street.
“I heard about Langdon. I don’t really know the whole story, but I’d love to hear it if you want to tell me.”
Trinity paused, looking down at her fingers, which were picking at her cuticles. Baran noticed, of course, and she fought the urge to take her hand and stop her fidgeting.
“I need a glass of wine before I get into that,” Trinity huffed, trying to sound humorous. Instead, she just sounded tired.
“A glass of wine it is, then. Red or white?” She asked, pulling the car into the garage and shifting into park.
“Red,” Trinity said, grabbing her bag from where it rested by her feet.
“Good choice.”
Baran shut off the car, mirroring Trinity’s motions as she got out, grabbing her stuff from the backseat.
“I’m sorry if it’s a mess in here,” Baran huffed, opening the door and turning off the alarm. “Kai has been sick, and I haven’t had the time to tidy up.”
Trinity shrugged, toeing off her shoes after watching Baran do the same.
“It’s okay. You should see my apartment.”
Baran smiled, putting her keys in their designated bowl. Her hand instinctively found the small of the younger woman’s back, guiding her through the house.
Her house was lived-in, and that was apparent. But it was still neat, of course. As Baran flicked the lights on, the house was bathed in a warm glow.
Evidence of a sick kid was littered throughout the living room — a water bottle, kids medicine, a pack of tissues — but aside from that, the space was clean and well-organized with warm, earthy tones.
Baran moved away from Trinity to hastily grab some trash.
“It’s okay, really,” Trinity huffed, lips turning upwards at her hurried movements. “I don’t care if there’s a box of tissues on the table. I’ll survive.”
Baran dumped a pile in the trash, wiping her hands on her scrub pants. “I know, I know. I’m just usually more tidy than this.”
“Anyway,” she continued, clasping her hands together. “Are you hungry? I know I am.”
“Always.”