Chapter Text
At the front of the PTMC, a blue bus slowly wheezes to a stop, its headlights hazy through a curtain of heavily falling snow. Trinity looks outside wearily, already regretting (before shift even starts) that she didn’t call in sick.
Through the frost-covered window, she saw Pittsburgh buried underneath a layer of white that had laid on thick overnight. The doors of the bus hiss as they fold open, and the chill rushes in with a violent gust, carrying snowflakes with it. Trinity pulls her red scarf higher over her nose as she steps off, boots sinking into several inches of fresh powder.
Beside her, Whitaker nearly loses his footing.
“Jesus Christ.”
Trinity ignores him, an art she’s mastered, while adjusting the strap of her bag.
“We could’ve come in heated seats and music in a nice car,” he grunts as Trinity walks ahead of him, rolling her eyes where he can’t see. She knew what he was referencing before he even said it. “I’m sure Garcia’s driven past us laughing by now.”
“You’re free to start screwing her if you want a ride this bad.”
Whitaker huffs, clearly unamused. “Not my type. All I’m saying,” he continues, undeterred, “is that whatever’s happened with you two this time has directly impacted my quality of life.”
Trinity shoots him a look accompanied with a scowl. “I’ll be sure to let her know you’re interested.”
They walk the rest of the way in silence, with a few more dramatic sighs and shivers over from Whitaker.
When the PTMC lobby doors opened, Trinity fully expected to be met with warmth, especially with how many bodies filled the waiting room at all hours. Instead, she found herself weaving through only a small number of shivering patients-to-be, wrapped in blankets. She kept her scarf over her nose.
Trinity’s eyes fall on Lupe, the ward clerk at the front. She stops in front of her desk with an unsure glance around the room.
“Hey, what’s up with the temperature?” She taps her hands on the counter. “Heater’s not working, or..”
Lupe only shrugs, “Honey, I know just as much as you do. Maybe ask your coworkers back there,” she says with tight lips, before pressing on the intercom to yell for the next patient on her list.
Whitaker gives Trinity a small side eye as they both scan their badges into their shift, unaware of what the day would bring.
The locker room was a mix of day shift coming in and night shift leaving. Trinity and Samira were changing into their scrubs at their lockers that are right next to each other. Victoria was across the room, dressed already with a pink zip up over her scrubs and a matching pink TIY hair tie supporting her slicked back high pony, excitedly talking to Mateo, who was on his way out.
Whitaker is touching up his hair in his locker mirror as Mel leaves the room to pick up a call from her sister.
After shedding 4 layers of winter clothes, Trinity decides to leave the last one on (a white long sleeve that went all the way to her wrists, covering her tattoos). Her hair today was pulled back into a bun, not slicked back, which never seems to be a good choice, as her hair usually ends up everywhere but in the style it was previously in when shifts are over.
Next to her, she notices that Samira also leaves on an underlayer, a dark blue sleeve that stops mid forearm. Trinity almost raises an eyebrow, because Samira almost never wears underscrubs, claiming that they’re too tight or that the layers are uncomfortable.
Finished changing, Trinity loops her stethoscope around her neck, shuts her locker, and makes her way out to the central nursing station. When she gets there she leans against the counter in front of Perlah and Princess, who seemed to be mid-gossip, as usual.
Trinity opened her mouth to greet them, probably in a sarcastic manner, but Princess interrupted before she could even start.
“Did you hear? The heater’s broken,” She tells Trinity in Tagalog.
Perlah slaps her shoulder lightly. “Ay, Princess. It’s not broken, stop feeding her lies.”
Princess rolls her eyes. “Barely working, broken, no difference. Apparently, if it gets any colder we have to move our patients to Westbridge.”
Trinity’s mouth falls open at that, “all of them?” she asks, her tone full of disbelief.
Princess only shrugs and pulls her blanket tighter around herself.
Perlah gives Trinity a headshake to tell her she shouldn’t listen to Princess. “Don’t worry about her. I’m sure everything’s gonna be fine.”
“Wanna bet on it?” Princess chirps.
“Gosh, it’s freezing in here today,” Victoria appears at the nurses station. Princess gives Perlah a look.
Victoria shivers dramatically and rubs her hands together, making Trinity look her up and down with a somewhat-judgemental sort of look.
“Y’know, you’d be a lot less cold if you zipped up your hoodie,” she points out teasingly. Victoria squints at her and scoffs with a face that says ‘obviously’.
“I just think the hoodie looks better when it’s open.”
Trinity raises her eyebrows with a sarcastic smile, “Suit yourself, crash.”
“I told you to stop calling me that,” Victoria mutters under her breath. Trinity pretends not to hear.
The nurses station continues to fill as Samira comes up as well, with Whitaker by her side.
“Have you guys seen the weather app? It’s twelve out. Twelve, and there’s supposed to be some kind of snow storm later tonight,” Victoria tells everyone, staring at her phone.
“Gosh,” Samira shakes her head with worry. “I hope that happens after shift.”
“You and me both, sister,” Trinity pats her on the back jokingly.
Dr. Al-Hashimi comes around at that moment, announcing to the morning shift, “Rounds everybody!”
The residents slowly peel themselves off of the nurses station to follow her, and Trinity gives a look back at Princess and Perlah.
“A snow storm,” Princess repeats, her face appearing smug. “Hmph!”
Perlah rolls her eyes, and Trinity smiles, hoping they’ll actually take it to the betting board. God knows she needs a distraction, especially an amusing one.
Anything to get her off Trinity's mind.
Morning rounds came and went. Assignments were handed out, and overnight admissions were discussed and introduced, with help from some of the last lingering night shift on their way out. And it wouldn’t have been rounds without Dr. Al-Hashimi reminding everyone, before she let them go, to finish their charts by the end of shift.
She was really a stickler for rules.
Trinity had long since accepted, after a sort-of rough first encounter with the doctor, that charting was an unavoidable evil, a necessity. But it didn’t stop her from resenting every moment spent staring at a computer screen, mic to her mouth, instead of actually seeing and interacting with patients.
Around Trinity, the department fell quiet. Well, if “quiet” included call lights, monitors beeping, and chatter from nurses, doctors, and patients. However, mornings were significantly calmer than the chaos that usually finds its way to the PTMC after 3pm. Snow continued to fall relentlessly outside the ambulance bay windows, snowflakes growing thicker with every passing minute until outside was a blur of white.
A faint commotion from the ambulance bay doors drew Trinity’s focus away from her computer after 20 minutes of straight charting. She watched as Samira and Javadi jumped to join the EMTs around the stretcher they wheeled in.
She’d help with the next one.
The elevator doors also opened, and Garcia strode through them, bearing her usual confidence. A faded charcoal PTMC crewneck was thrown over her scrubs, the sleeves already shoved carelessly to her elbows as she tugged on a pair of gloves while walking. A trauma pager hung from the waistband of her scrub pants, bouncing lightly against her hip with every step.
She didn’t slow, or even bother to spare a glance in Trinity’s direction.
The surgeon disappeared inside the trauma room as voices immediately started calling out reports on the patient inside. Trinity watched the doors for a second longer than she probably should have.
“Dr. Santos.”
Trinity immediately glanced over to where the voice was coming from, right over her computer. Dr. Al-Hashimi gave her a quizzical look, clipboard tucked under her arm.
“Did you hear what I asked you?”
Trinity stared back at her blankly, lips pressed in a thin line as she debated whether or not honesty was going to help her here.
“.... No.”
Dr. Al-Hashimi cocked her head sideways, “I’d appreciate it if you could focus on your work, Dr. Santos. I’m the only attending on shift today, and it’s crucial that I make sure we run things smoothly around here.”
“Right,” Trinity glances briefly down, somewhat embarrassed but not trying to show it. “Sorry.”
The attending offered her a small smile anyways. “Since you’re done pretending to chart …”
I was charting, Trinity thinks. But she doesn’t say it out loud, due to her already being on thin ice.
“Bed three could use some assistance.”
Trinity instinctively held out her hand for the chart, “You got it, doc.”
Dr. Al-Hashimi gave an amused hum as she handed it over to Trinity. With that, the attending walked off, already calling for another resident.
Trinity watched her go before glancing back down at the chart in her hands and flipping through it. In front of her, the trauma room doors opened again. She heard the familiar voice she’d been listening for earlier, only for a second before it disappeared into the chatter of the rest of the department.
She kept her eyes down this time (mostly).
When Trinity drew open the curtains around bed three, there was a woman sitting on the stretcher who couldn’t have been much older than her. She was curled slightly onto one side of the bed. Her arms were folded across her chest and her shoulders were drawn all the way in, but her posture softened when Trinity made her way in.
“Morning, I’m Dr. Santos,” she introduced herself with a small smile as she moved to the computer in the room. “What brings you in today?”
The patient uncurled and gestured towards her lower abdomen. She answered Trinity’s question meekly.
“Uh, my stomach was really bothering me, um, earlier,” she winced as she responded.
Trinity nodded and typed it up. She continued to ask questions concerning nausea, vomiting, a fever, and any other possible symptoms.
As Trinity continued on to work through the patient’s–Grace’s– history, Grace glanced up at the air vent before looking back toward her.
“Can I ask you something?”
Trinity looked up only briefly from the computer, “Yeah, sure.”
“... Is there a way to change the temperature in here?”
“Oh, uh,” Trinity took her turn looking up at the air vent, which happened to be placed just above Grace’s bed, and was likely blowing cold air into an already freezing room. “Our heater’s broken actually, but, last I heard, they have people fixing it currently. Should be working again soon, I think.”
Grace accepted the answer in silence, and tucked her hands further under her legs as Trinity continued her read through her medical history. The chart listed pollen allergies, asthma, and Raynaud's disease.
Raynaud’s did not go well with the current temperature.
Finished reading, Trinity pulled some gloves from the glove box and crossed the room back over to the stretcher to begin her examination.
The physical exam looked good, Grace’s heart and lungs sounded normal, her breathing was unlabored. She also answered all of Trinity’s questions without much hesitation.
Trinity reached for her wrist to check another pulse spot, and could feel how cold her skin was even under her gloves. Her eyes drifted briefly to Grace’s hands. The tips of her fingertips had gone white, some a deep purple. Trinity knew this was a common symptom of Raynaud’s, so she didn’t comment on it.
She then had Grace lay down to examine her abdomen, telling her, “Let me know if anything hurts.”
Grace was quiet through the first few areas. Then, as Trinity reached for the lower left side, she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth.
“There?”
Grace’s eyebrows scrunched together in pain, “Uh, yeah.”
“Okay,” Trinity eased the pressure away. She finished the rest of the exam, then peeled off her gloves to throw them in the bin. “You’ve definitely got some tenderness down there,” she turned back to the computer, “Your labs look good, um, I’d like to get a pelvic ultrasound so we can get a better idea of what’s causing the pain. There are a few different possibilities, but I'd rather know what we’re dealing with than make assumptions.”
Grace nodded in response.
“I’ll go put the order in, and while I'm out, I’ll see if I can track down another blanket for you.”
Grace smiled softly and muttered a “thank you”, and Trinity returned that smile before slipping out behind the curtain and back into the hallway.
This morning, due to the freezing weather, a cart of blankets had been put outside the nurses station. Once Trinity was done putting in her order, she’d rounded the corner of the station to find that it had been picked clean.
Trinity frowned to herself, but it was to be expected on a day like this. She turned and changed directions to head to the supply closet, in hopes of finding more.
She pulled the door open, only to stop short as someone was already inside. Samira’s back was turned to the door, hands disappearing into storage shelves. She muttered quietly to herself as she shifted boxes and things around. Every few seconds something rattled, only to be followed by an increasingly disappointed sigh.
Trinity took a few steps in, “You lose something?”
Samira backed out of the shelves, turning toward the voice. She held up her empty hands, “Well, I thought there’d be extra blankets in here.”
Fuck.
“There aren’t any?”
“Uh, there were,” Samira gestured vaguely toward the empty wire rack mounted on the wall. “I’ve got an older woman in bed ten who can’t stop shivering…”
“I’ve also got a girl in the beds who’s freezing.”
The two residents stood still in the room, staring at the vacant shelf. They exchanged a look with each other, knowing exactly where they were headed next.
The charge nurse was exactly where she’d been all day, standing behind the nurses station with a clipboard in one hand and a phone tucked in between her shoulder and ear. In front of her stood Dennis, who looked as though he was waiting on something from her.
Dana was looking at him how she usually looked at people that were giving her bullshit.
Trinity approached the counter with the grin she uses when she wants something from Dana, “What’s up, D?”
Dana didn’t buy it. She looked from Dennis to Trinity, and to Samira behind, and asked, “Don’t you two ask me for any blankets or about the heater.”
Samira sighed and Trinity pursed her lips, “Farm boy beat me to it, didn’t he?”
Dennis opened his mouth in protest, but Dana cut him off. “Him and everyone else. Everyone’s patients are cold, and the last blankets have been handed out. Nothing we can do.”
Trinity put her elbows down on the counter and her face in her hands. Dennis leaned on the counter next to her as well.
Samira sighed a second time, “This sucks… the old lady in ten told me she doesn’t do well with the cold. And she’s freezing.”
Dana eyed the three of them. “Don’t you kids have anything better to do than complain over here? I’m trying to work,” She put the phone down.
Dennis shrugged. “Not really. Nothing’s come in through the ambulance bay since morning… and there’s barely anyone in the beds.”
Trinity kept her face in her hands, and her voice came out muffled. “I am going to be so pissed if there’s a snow storm.”
No one had a comment for that. Samira and Dennis slowly stalked back to their computers, likely to go chart. Trinity would rather do anything else. A slow day is her absolute worst nightmare.
“If you’re really not gonna do anything else,” Dana spoke to Trinity while jotting down something on her board, “You can go check the other floors' supply for blankets.”
Trinity lowered her hands and made a face. “Can’t you send an intern to do that?”
Dana gave her a face right back. “Do you see any? You’re the one that was gonna ask for the blankets. Go get them or let your patients freeze, up to you.”
With that, Dana turned around to pick up the phone again. Trinity groaned and made her way toward the elevator.
“Where’s Ogilvie when you need him,” she muttered to no one but herself.
Trinity’s annoyance had already faded by the time the elevator doors slid open on the second floor. This floor (one of the surgery floors) was noticeably calmer than the Emergency Department, even on the ED’s calmest day. The loudest noise was coming from somewhere further down the hall, where the familiar voice of a news anchor drifted through an open lounge doorway.
“ … Police are advising residents to stay off the roads unless absolutely necessary. Several major routes in and out of Pittsburgh have already been shut down …”
Trinity glanced in as she walked past.
The television mounted in the corner was turned on to the local news that Trinity watches often. A weather radar covered most of the entire screen in shades of blue and white, a giant spiral slowly making its way across western Pennsylvania. A handful of nurses and surgeons had gathered around it with their warm coffee in hand, watching with various levels of concern.
“... snowfall total expected to hit or exceed twenty inches…”
One attending gave a low whistle, another shook his head.
“There goes my dinner reservation,” another jokes, receiving light laughter.
Trinity barely paid them any mind, as she instinctively swept her eyes across the lounge. Her eyes scanned the room, and eventually landed on her.
Yolanda.
She was standing behind everyone, leaning on the wall. Her arms were crossed over the same charcoal sweatshirt Trinity had seen her in earlier that morning. Her sleeves had fallen back down to her wrist. Trinity assumed surgery had had a slow day as well, seeing as Yolanda’s bun was still intact in its intentionally messy style.
When Trinity finished her once over, she looked back up to find that Yolanda wasn’t watching the television anymore, rather staring at the doorway Trinity stood in.
Yolanda’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, asking a silent question. What was Trinity doing here?
Trinity held her gaze for some time, frozen in place. Eventually, she was the one to break eye contact first. She didn’t acknowledge Yolanda’s look, nor answer it. Instead she continued walking, still in search of the supply closet.
She found it only a few doors down. Trinity pulled the handle and stepped inside, scanning the sleeves for what she’d come for. She stopped herself in front of the linen rack.
“Seriously?”
There couldn’t have been more than 5 blankets here. That wasn’t gonna get the emergency department very far, but at least it was something. She began to reach up for them when the door clicked behind her.
Trinity lowered her arms to turn around, already having a good idea of who’d followed her in.
Her eyes met Yolanda’s for a second time. The surgeon closed the door behind her and leaned on it.
“Hey, Trinity.”