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Mostly, she doesn't want anyone to find her. She's tired, and sad, and more stressed out than she's been in the last ten months. Yet, deep down, part of her can't help but want Dennis to stumble in and startle her. A movie magic parallel where this abandoned room, on this abandoned floor, becomes forever connected to them, and everyone lives happily ever after. The end.
But this is real life, her shitty real life. So it's not Dennis who finds her, it's Robby. At least he has the decency to look guilty for catching her in the state she's in, but it's not enough to stop him from encroaching. She's sure she looks exactly how she feels; the graininess of leftover salt streaks from the tears has irritated her skin, and there's a certainty to the fact that her half-up, half-down hair is a lot more than half down.
It's Trinity who speaks first, a simple, "Hi." Robby just nods, taking a place next to her on the abandoned hospital bed their Huckleberry used to call his. The cogs turning in his brain are basically audible, and she can tell he's trying to decide if he should crack a joke or pry into her feelings. She doesn't know which she wants less right now.
“We aren’t going to talk about it,” she states more than offers. Her feelings begin creeping their way back up her chest and throat, and she knows if he pushes, she’ll break again. She won’t let herself break again. “I’m fine, everything is fine. No one is dead."
She’s not sure which one of them is avoiding eye contact more, but she can feel his eyes on her while she’s picking at the skin around her nails. Sighing, he stands back up.
“You’re a good doctor, Santos. You advocate for your patients so much, when are you going to advocate for yourself?” The words feel more like a slap than she knows he had intended, and she can’t help but let out an uneasy laugh.
“I think anyone who knows me would tell you I advocate for myself just fine. I have an aggressive energy, remember?” Trinity looks up at Robby now, a challenge.
There’s not even a break in the conversation to soften the blow when he replies, “I said advocate for, not put up walls to protect. One wants the best for you, the other wants what’s easiest for you.” It’s more than a tad hypocritical, but true.
And she tries, she tries so hard, but it’s too late to stop the tears that are beginning to fall from her eyes again. Robby looks startled at this, and the part of her that protects so well thinks, “Good, this is your fault.” He hesitates before reaching forward, enveloping her in a light hug.
Well, it should feel light. He’s barely touching her, really; on any other day, when she was in any other mood, it would feel light. But instead, it feels heavy, like waves crashing over her head. And it is out of her control entirely when she begins pushing and kicking and punching and screaming.
It’s loud and violent and angry. Robby isn’t expecting it, because of course Robby isn’t expecting it. “He’s trying to help you, not hurt you. He isn’t him,” a voice in the back of her mind tries, but she’s drowning and can’t hear it over the vicious lapping of the ocean. Over the memories that the wall Robby just so eloquently destroyed was supposed to be keeping out.
She had promised herself she’d never trust a man like him again. Someone with power, with authority. Someone who could take advantage of her. Or Dennis. Dennis, who was so stupidly kind, and so stupidly crushing on this man, their boss, who was twice his age and—.
It was like every time she got a breath of salt air, her head was right back under the water.
Dennis, who was starting his move into Robby’s house tomorrow and leaving her behind. She thought they were getting along fine as roommates; it was awkward at first, sure, but it had been ten months now, almost a year. If their time as roommates were a pregnancy, they’d have had a baby by now.
Great. Now she was thinking about Amy. Stupid Amy, and her stupid baby, and her stupid farm. What was so wrong with her that Dennis preferred to spend his days off doing more work for Amy instead of watching Grey’s Anatomy with her at their apartment?
And yes, sure, there had been a few awkward encounters when Yolanda was over, though how Dennis had managed to use her toothbrush when they had separate bathrooms, Trinity will never know. But hadn’t they, all three of them, had fun together too?
Now she was going to spend the end of a very hectic Fourth of July alone at home, watching fireworks through her bedroom window while she listened as Dennis packed his room away on the other side of the wall and Yolanda did… whatever it was Yolanda’s mysterious other plans were. Casual. Right.
And don't even get her started on the Langdon of it all.
Despite her spiraling, she can feel when the energy in the room shifts from superior and subordinate to doctor and patient. Robby’s back in her bubble, though farther away than he’d probably like. His hands reach out, but they don’t touch.
“Doctor Santos, you have to breathe.”
She knows this method. Calling her Doctor Santos in this moment to make her feel important and needed, so that she snaps back into reality. There’s a taste in the back of her throat she doesn’t like as a part of her files his attempt away as "manipulator". It’s an unfair assessment, but her hackles are up, and she’s too tired to stop it.
“Everyone is leaving.” Her voice sounds scratchy, but she can’t feel the ache. “You’re leaving, and he’s leaving, and she’s leaving.” Suddenly, her breaths are getting shallow again.
Because that's it. That’s the truth all laid out in front of them. Everyone she trusts leaves her or hurts her.
She had, despite all odds, trusted another man. He had believed her, no questions asked, when no one else did. He had matched, and sometimes one-upped, her humor. He had cared. Truly cared. In his own, “I’m Michael Robinavitch, I care too much, but also not at all”, way.
She had found a friend. A real friend. In one, Dennis Whitaker. Who had softened her edges and made her remember what it felt like to care about someone else’s wellbeing every single day. She hadn’t let herself get close to anyone like that again for years, until he came around and broke right through her heart with one shirtless dance in this very room.
She had found… well, not love, but something that could be love, one day, maybe. The type of passion she thought was made up for stories, she had right here with Yolanda. Regardless of any scalpel-related foot injuries, they had been infatuated with one another for the last ten months. The kind of… not love… you jump into without even having to think.
But Robby was running from their job, Dennis was running from their apartment, and Yolanda was running from, well, her.
And sure, maybe the people in her life should be allowed to have a life outside of her, but she had let them cause her to forget what it was like to have a life outside of them.
“Trinity.”
Another tactic, though probably not intentional. Shock disrupts the pattern of thought, which acts as a manual reset for your brain. Sour candy, holding an ice cube, calling someone by their first name for the first time.
Despite knowing the trick, it works anyway. Her eyes dart to his, her breathing lets up slowly, and she can feel the chill that comes after feeling so bottled up.
“Michael.” It’s all she can think to say.
Robby sighs, “Nobody is leaving you. Whitaker is just house-sitting for me, and you and Garcia will figure it out. Maybe she just needs a little push. Have you told her how you feel?”
Trinity gives him a look, one they both know he’s pulled before himself. An “Of course I haven’t told her how I feel. That’s scary.” He laughs slightly, nodding.
“Well, try it before you give up on her.” His hands come up again, before going back to his sides, not risking touching her again. Trinity doesn’t know if it helps or hurts.
They don’t speak for a while as her air comes back to her. She wipes her face a few times and Robby hands her an unopened box of tissues sitting on the counter. He sits on the hospital bed again, keeping his distance.
“You didn’t say you weren’t leaving.” She doesn’t think she was supposed to point this out, but she does anyway.
He doesn’t answer, like sitting in silence will save him from whatever truth he is hiding. Trinity should be too tired to investigate further, but she’s not. She’s too invested in these people now. She eyes him carefully; his face looks relaxed, not as tense as the air around them would have suggested. Alarm bells are ringing in her head. She has seen the calm before the storm before.
“Why were you up here anyway?” It’s an easy question, or it should be.
“I was going up…” He trails off, rethinking his words before he even says them. “I was going upstairs, and the door to this floor was cracked open. Thought I’d do my due diligence and check for any stowaways.”
Trinity nods, “Just me this time. Did you know Dennis was living here for a couple of months?” She says it just to see his facial expression change. It does.
“What?” It’s a fair reply. What else is there to say at such a crazy concept? But she can see something else in his eyes too. Interesting. She’s shared enough of Dennis’ secrets for one day, though, to continue indulging Robby.
So instead she changes the subject again, “Do you have a secret baby? The only things past floor eight are Peds, Oncology, Neurology, and Admin. I’m guessing you’re not trying to visit Gloria.”
Robby snorts, nodding in agreement. “No, definitely not visiting Gloria. I’m pretty sure she’s trying to finalize replacing me right now, wouldn’t want to distract her. And no. No secret baby either.” Something shifts in his eyes, Trinity sees it but can’t place it before it’s gone. Something sad, something yearning.
“Then you were going up to the roof.” She says it matter-of-factly, because it’s a matter of fact. “Do you do that often?”
Robby looks at her, something slightly less intense than sizing her up.
“Abbot and I take shifts.” He says finally, not quite maintaining eye contact, a distant look gliding over his eyes.
Trinity takes in a breath. It’s louder and shakier than she intended, but they both already know what unsaid thing is hanging in the air. She knows already that she cannot convince him to stay if he doesn’t want to. Here, at the Pitt, or here, in life.
“I’ll see you in three months, right Robinavitch?” It’s meant to be playful, but it doesn’t quite reach either of their ears that way. Again, Robby chooses the silence. Something Trinity has never been good at.
The skin around her fingernails distracts her, but not for long. She wants to do more, say more. But she can’t. She tried so hard last time, to stop it from ending how it did, but it was never going to change it. All she can do now is be there. It’s not like he’ll come to her, Abbot and Dana will be there if he lets them, but her impact will still exist. Her face in the crowd of people he knows that care about him. And he’ll be the same for her. A cycle of not really knowing, but still understanding. Two people, alike in more ways than one, who hide behind walls because it’s easier than getting hurt again.
It's abrupt when Robby stands, stretching his limbs. He smiles at her, it barely reaches his eyes, before he half salutes and says, “I’ll see you when I see you.” And takes his leave.
Trinity looks down at the raw skin around her fingernails and sighs. You can’t save everyone, but you can be there.