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By the time her shift finally neared it’s end, the clock hand gradually crowding closer and closer to the 7, Trinity felt entirely depleted—every epidermal cell of her skin felt raw and sensitive, to the ghost of touch or the light gusts of air coming from the AC, combined with the harsh flares of agony that angrily rocketed through her knees whenever she moved the ‘wrong way’.
Perks of childhood gymnastics, she thought.
To add to the ever growing strain on her shoulders; Yolanda had been acting weird. All fucking day.
A blunt edge coloured her voice when she spoke and not in the normal bitchy way that Trinity usually found unimaginably hot. This time, it had churned the few contents inside of Trinity’s stomach—namely an original red bull and a crushed peanut raisin granola bar—uncomfortably and her focus easily dropped to the floor whenever they ended up alone together. Trinity had to fight not to ask, ‘did i do something?’ and it took everything else she had left not to take it too personally when Yolanda rolled her eyes before walking away without another word.
Luckily, the ever thriving chaos of the ED and the surgical floor had managed to keep them separate, mostly, until a brief run in when transporting a non-emergent patient up to the OR had them colliding, hard.
“The fuck? What the hell is your prob—“ Yolanda’s words trailed off as she recognised the blue undershirt of the arm that had just jabbed her in the chest. She reached forward quickly, stopped Trinity’s knees from buckling and steadied her. “Trin—“
“Shit, that was a total accident, my fault.” Trinity muttered quickly, gaze locked on the off-white of the patient’s sheets, exhaling as she tried to stay professional, even as talented hands she knew very well skimmed across her waist, digging in from where they had caught her as she stumbled into the side of the gurney. If Yolanda wanted to be a dick, she could play that game too, no matter how much her heart sped up at the light touch. The throbbing pain dissipated as a new flood of warmth ran through her blood with each circle pressed against her scrubs.
“We’re keeping it casual, right?”, flickered through Trinity’s mind as she brought her eyes up to meet Yolanda’s from her position at her side. She didn’t look mad, that was the worst part, just blank. Nothing else to be explored there as she took a breath, eased her grip off of Trinity’s hips like letting go wasn’t difficult to do in the slightest, and nodded. Yolanda pushed the button for the 8th floor, gesturing to the ED, a ‘get out, or you’re coming up with us.’ before fixing the patient’s blanket from where it had been knocked out of place, seconds earlier.
The elevator fell silent as Trinity adjusted her stance, fixed her posture and ignored the phantom jab of nails against her abdomen before she stepped out, eager to get away from the awkwardness that kept building around the two of them.
Yolanda stared at her—watching the fluid way Trinity moved, focusing on the small of her back, then the strong lines of her hips and how she could still feel her skin’s warm heat living beneath her palms. Horribly alive and beating.
The patient shifted, breaking her out of her daydream as she sighed, poking the elevator button again until the doors came to a close and she could pretend it all didn’t exist for the next few hours. Though, even the cold, stainless steel of the scalpel and the rush of hot adrenaline through her veins couldn’t suffocate the ever present thoughts of Trinity Santos.
Said R2, had clenched her jaw tight, all the way to the bathroom before she sunk down against the, frankly, disgusting walls of the cubicle and embraced the cool relief that swam around her pulsing meniscus as she got a chance to rest.
They both had one thing in common; they were completely, utterly, and wholly fucked.
Trinity in the cramped stall, head in her hands and stomach seizing with every shaky inhale. Yolanda in the OR, sorting through debris and irrigating wounds with her mind somewhere else, entirely.
Trinity huffed as she reached up for the lock, pulling herself up off the floor carefully. She groaned when the dull twinge of her calves set in again as she walked out to rinse her hands, eager to wash off the grime of the dirty floor she had just been resting on.
She could still feel Yolanda’s lingering touch and caught her perfume in the air—cedar and vanilla, strong notes of cinnamon permeating through. It only served to remind her of the past few weeks; lying in Yolanda’s double bed, soft silk sheets beneath them as they fought for breath, panting and spent, but happy.
It all felt so far away, just crawling over the hill in the distance, when she put it together with the Yolanda she saw today. The tight line of her jaw, the rasp in her voice replaced the soft flirting she’d pull and mostly get away with, unless Dana was around to tease them both.
Something had changed, Trinity knew that for sure. But she also knew that she had never been built for casual. She was made for all or nothing.
This had been nothing, apparently.
Trinity splashed cold water on her face, feeling the soothing burn of the liquid against her cheeks, before she glanced in the mirror above the cracked porcelain.
Her eyes were dark and bloodshot, tired clearly, tinges of red around the sclera, showing her exhaustion. There was nothing else that she could do about it, so she left, not eager to give Langdon something else to scold her on. Trinity was many things; late was not one of them.
The ED was calm after that. The most interesting case was an older man who’d somehow ‘tripped’ on a chainsaw, but it wasn’t long that she got to aid in the grim sight of his half-mangled hand before he was whisked off to the OR. Trinity kept her distance, watching from across the Pitt, but the surgeon who came to consult wasn’t Yolanda anyway.
That was how it came to be the end of her shift. The clock hit 7 and she was free to go—her charts weren’t done, but she had an off day coming up so she delegated the work to be done then, considering there wasn’t a large amount left. Besides, she’d already made plans with Dennis to watch one of his weird indie movies, since she got to pick last time.
(She still doesn’t regret introducing him to the cultural phenomenon of ‘But I’m a cheerleader’;
”You’re telling me you’re a little gay farm boy and you’ve never seen ‘But I’m a cheerleader’, like ever?”
His silence had been all the answer she needed.
“Shut up and watch, Huckleberry. Take notes—there will be a quiz after. Less than 10 out of 15, your room goes to Crash.”)
Trinity had been waiting for at least fifteen minutes in their usual meeting spot, hidden by the entrance where she went to get a hit of her vape on her break, —unsurprisingly, vaping as a doctor is frowned upon—tapping her sneakers against the ground in a staccato rhythm as she became impatient. He was normally a little slow to get there, but it never took him this long.
She fished her phone out of her scrub pockets, only to be met with a missed text from ‘Huck 𓃔’, from 8 minutes ago. Something along the lines of being thrown up on again, which should have been surprising but it really wasn’t, and him staying on late to cover for someone, so she could just head home alone.
Trinity was fine about being alone, really. Sure, sometimes the silence got to be too much, stifling rather than freeing, and yeah, maybe she hated the way the apartment became stuffier when she couldn’t feel Dennis’ funky music blaring through the thin walls, but all in all it wasn’t bad. She’d been alone for most of her life, she’d be okay with her own company for another night.
With a small sigh, Trinity began to walk towards the parking lot, except by the time she reached for the driver’s side door of her cheap, beat up Ford, she realised her keys weren’t in her bag. The memory of passing them to Dennis this morning so he could drive them both in, flooded back in.
“Fuck.” She huffed, already spinning back around and making her way to the reception. Cassie raised an eyebrow as Trinity wandered the place she had literally just left, but said nothing.
The locker rooms were empty, save for Joy who thankfully was similar enough to Trinity that they didn’t need to share anything besides a tight lipped smile, and she thanked all her lucky stars that Dennis was still unorganised enough to keep his locker combination the same as it was 10 and a half months ago. 2310.
She shot him a text warning that he’d need to catch a ride from someone else, before grabbing her keys with the little snoopy keychain attached from underneath his backup sweater, and throwing them into her pocket.
Then, because her life really had to be fucked with, as she let the locker room door slam shut behind her, she crashed into someone again. In the back of her mind, she felt strangely like Victoria for a second.
”Watch where you’re goi—“
Yolanda. Again.
“Y’know, if you want to talk to me so bad, you have my extension, Trinity.” Her voice was lower, all anger long gone as she looked down at Trinity.
”What?” Trinity didn’t mean to say it, but having the conversation was better than ignoring it for as long as possible, until they faded into the backgrounds of one another’s life, fuzzing around the edges until once defining features grew indiscernible.
Yolanda’s eyebrows furrowed as she took a step closer, but Trinity cut her off before she could say anything else.
“Every single fucking time I try to, you either walk away from me, or tell me you have plans. How the fuck am I meant to talk to you if you change your mind on what you want?”
Yolanda’s jaw clenched, hard, shaking her head as she took a step closer, despite the already minimal space between them. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who asked for casual, Santos. Not me.”
The use of her last name hit like a bruising round against Trinity’s chest.
Yolanda was right—she had asked for that. She couldn’t be mad that she was being ignored if it was her own doing.
Pushing people away, then mourning the loss. Fatal flaw, marked in red beneath Dr Trinity Santos; her achilles heel.
Abandonment felt different then.
She had been Icarus—soared too close to the sun, and got shocked when the burn ran viciously down her arm, scolding her all the way to her heart.
“I just—“
“You just, what?” Yolanda said, “Look, I like you. Really. But if you’re gonna ask for something, you need to stick to your word. I’m not doing this ‘will they, won’t they’ bullshit.”
Trinity tried to argue back but everything felt overpowering; Yolanda’s perfume, their close proximity, the sterile atmosphere of the tight hospital hallway. Her hand shook around the small cartoon dog in her grip, and the unfeeling metal of the chain until it pinched her thumb. Her mouth opened, waiting a second before she let it fall shut. Nothing.
Yolanda’s gaze softened, warm amber rushing back in as she took Trinity’s hand gently. “Look, let’s talk about this in private, okay?”
Trinity was helpless to do anything but nod, as she let Yolanda guide her towards the back staircase. Maybe she should’ve been stronger, standing her ground instead of falling back into the comforting sensation of skin against skin, but her day was long enough, and she really didn’t have anything left to give.
They walked hand in hand for only a few minutes, Yolanda in-front as Trinity trailed behind up the stairs. Her knees still felt stiff, rattling uselessly as she pushed far beyond their limits but finally, they reached the top—the roof.
Trinity had a fear of heights.
Not that she ever told Yolanda. Crying in the arms of her superior turned hookup about all of her concerns wasn’t exactly what she had in mind when they would spend time alone.
She’d be fine. Probably.
Yolanda spun slightly, eyeing Trinity gently as she wobbled when the latch of the door fell open. “Okay?”
Trinity gave a soft shrug of her shoulders, following Yolanda into the cool night breeze, letting the wind shape her next few breaths.
“You can tell me if you’re scared, it’s pretty high up.”
“All good here.” Trinity lied, the words sounding equally as clunky to her own ears. She’d never been any good at dishonesty. She just never had anyone care enough to pull her up on it.
“Trin, please.” Yolanda murmured, using their still connected hands to draw her closer. “Just be honest with me.”
“About me being fucking scared of heights? I’m pretty sure you’ve figured that one out.” Trinity said, too exhausted and embarrassed to filter herself.
“That yes, but also about what’s going on with you. I want to know.” Sincerity dripped from her tone, and Trinity felt that familiar ache shake her gut as she dropped her hand.
“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. If you don’t wanna fuck anymore that’s fine, I can swing by to grab my shit from yours soon.” The words felt like acid seething on her tongue, cauterising her lips.
The idea of never lying in Yolanda’s arms again had felt devastating. If she had known last week would’ve been the last, she would’ve kissed her more, enjoyed the expanse of soft skin further, taken her time to worship properly.
The type of devoutness she never felt connected to in Church.
“Trinity, you know that’s not what I’m saying. You asked for casual, I gave you it, and now you’re mad?” The words were harsh and Yolanda paused before continuing, softer, “I’m not trying to hurt you, but it’s pretty damn easy when you don’t tell me the full truth.”
Without a word, Trinity let herself sink to the floor, the sight of the buildings below made her feel too dizzy to remain upright, let alone the confusing conversation matter. What were they?
A beat passed before Yolanda took a seat by her side, their knees just barely grazing.
“I think—“ Trinity exhaled, confidence faltering. “I like you.”
Yolanda couldn’t help the soft chuckle she let slip, “You think?”
Trinity rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she put a hand up, “Jeez, give me a minute.” She joked, but her eyes glazed over, slightly wet.
“I think, I like you, a lot. As in, I can’t stop thinking about you. I can imagine watching shitty romance movies with you, and eating your well loved family recipes that I’ve never had for myself, and going out for brunch and holding hands as we walk down the fucking street. And honestly? It fucking terrifies me. Like, I’m scared to death, because what if I—what if we try this, and it doesn’t work out?”
Yolanda’s eyes widened, that soft smile on her face as she looked over. “You want to get brunch?”
“Are you—that’s what you took from that?” Trinity scoffed, annoyed but Yolanda shushed her before she could go on.
“I like you, Trinity. A lot. You’re not the only one in this, okay? I also want to watch shitty movies with you, but horror because it’s the way better genre, and to hold your hand as we go on a walk and to get brunch together even though breakfast foods gross me out.” Her smile could be heard as she spoke. “And maybe it won’t work out. But that could be said for so many fucking things. Hell, our job is based purely on whether we do enough to sew someone’s skin up that day. On so much shit that could go wrong. Does that ever stop you?”
Trinity shook her head slowly.
“Exactly. So, why don’t we see where this goes? We’re already practically on a date right now—“ At Trinity’s laugh, she felt her heart clench. “Look around, or don’t because you look like you’re gonna throw up, but the stars are out and it’s just us up here, so, where better to do it, right?”
Trinity hummed, bringing her hand up to gently run across the backs of Yolanda’s knuckles. “Being scared is fine, and normal, I just need you to not push me away again. Talk to me if you need anything.”
“Deal.” Trinity said, “I mean, I can’t promise I’m gonna be any good at this girlfriend stuff, but I want to try.”
Yolanda nodded, leaning a fraction closer as she guided Trinity’s jaw with her hand. “This okay?”
“Just kiss m—“ Trinity was cut off by the press of Yolanda’s lips against hers, smooth and decisive as her thumb cradled Trinity’s cheek. A hand tangled in her hair, playing with the messy strands at the nape of her neck as they moved against one another, before breaking away.
“Wanna go back to mine? Huckleberry’s still on call and I have leftover takeout from that place you like.”
Yolanda agreed quietly, her fingers still toying with Trinity’s hair. “Let’s stay here for a minute longer, you’re tense.”
Trinity’s cheeks felt hot, before she could make up an excuse, Yolanda spoke, “It’s fine, baby, just sit and enjoy the break. I know your knees hurt. You took like an hour just to get up the stairs.” She teased, but her expression was as soft as ever.
“Asshole—maybe I was just letting you win, old age and all.”
Yolanda rolled her eyes as she pulled Trinity in for another tender kiss. Trinity’s head moved to rest on her shoulder as the cool airflow rushed against them.
“Thank you,” Trinity said faintly, keeping her eyes trained on the distant stars above.
“Shut up and relax, Trinity.” Yolanda paused, before whispering her own thanks into the crown of Trinity’s head.
Silence, then, “You really don’t like romance movies? Not even ‘Imagine me and you’?”