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He’s wrong.
He’s wrong.
He’s wrong.
The sun set hours ago, but the fireworks in the distance light up the sky, casting the cement in alternating shades of red, white, and blue. Trinity rests her chin on her knee, leg tucked up against her chest while the other dangles off the ledge.
Let it go.
She exhales, watching the strands of hair pulled loose from her ponytail flutter and fall back against her face. God, this was by far the worst shift of her life. Which was saying something, considering how her first day at the PTMC went. She’s long overdue for the comfort of her bed, but even as the time on her phone approaches 1am, she can’t bring herself to stand up and go home.
Maybe he’s changed.
She hasn’t changed out of her scrubs, just pulled a zip up hoodie over her shoulders and left her hair in the messy state it’s been in for hours. She can’t help but hum softly, swaying her knee in rhythm and allowing her upper body to move with it. Her eyes fall closed, the sound of the fireworks popping fading into the lullaby like a metronome.
In the distance there is a squeak that she recognizes as the heavy metal door to the roof being pushed open, and then the corresponding groan and thump as it falls closed. Trinity takes a brief moment to pray her intruder makes their way to the opposite ledge and leaves her to stew in her first moment of peace she’s found in twenty hours. Her hopes are quickly crushed when the sound of footsteps draws nearer, and then stops a short distance away.
“That’s pretty.”
Trinity doesn’t pause her humming to acknowledge the compliment, but she does still her leg and turn her face to bury her cheek into the sharp point of her knee. It sends the vibrations of her song echoing through her bones.
With her head turned away, she doesn’t catch a glimpse of the shoes that step closer and closer until there is a body lowering itself down next to her. She feels the rustle of fabric against her jacket, and a foot nudges hers as it joins hers in stretching over the ledge.
“Does it have words?” Samira asks, and when Trinity turns her head to face her, she sees she has both legs sprawled in front of her, leaning backwards on her palms to keep her body upright.
“Yes,” Trinity answers, and doesn’t elaborate.
Samira hums in acknowledgement, and smiles gently. “Are you planning on sleeping up here until you can clock in tomorrow?”
“I have the day off,” she says, interlocking her hands and folding them over her knee. “I can sleep up here all day if I want to.”
Samira makes a noise of disagreement, “Careful, if they find out you’re up here, they will put you to work.”
Trinity doesn’t respond, instead looking straight forward, watching the colors spread across the sky. Samira allows her a few moments of silence, swaying her legs back and forth and tilting her head back to stare straight upwards.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She scoffs, casting a doubtful glance at the woman next to her. “I’m not sure either one of us wants to suffer through that.”
Samira’s brows furrow and her mouth tilts downwards. “I’m serious.”
“I thought you were Samira.”
“You’re not funny.”
Trinity shrugs, lowering her knee and copying the way Samira is sat, feeling the rough gravel dig into the skin of her palms. There’s a sharp piece digging into the life line of her right hand, and she leaves it there in appreciation of the poetry of it all.
“There’s nothing to talk about. We had a shitty day.”
“We did. I couldn’t help but notice yours was especially shitty.”
“No more than anyone else that stepped through that ER today,” Trinity argues, “Do you want to talk about your mom and her boyfriend and your panic attack?”
Samira doesn’t give her the satisfaction of frowning or even looking annoyed. “I would, actually.”
Trinity groans, and rolls her eyes at the grin that tugs at Samira’s face. “Of course you would. Well, I don’t, actually. I would like to be left alone.”
Let it go.
“Okay, sure,” Samira says, and then proceeds to stay exactly where she is.
Trinity waits her out, and they sit there on the edge of the roof for several minutes in silence. Samira makes no move to get up and leave, even though Trinity is trying to manifest so hard for her to go. Every few seconds, their shoes touch from where Samira sways hers.
“Could you hum again? I liked it.”
Her eyes close as she exhales loudly, “Samira.”
“Trinity.”
“Why do you suddenly have an interest in talking to me?” she bursts, pulling her body upright and turning to look directly at her. “You’ve barely said anything to me outside of notes regarding a patient in ten months. I’ve had shitty days before, and you’ve never shown up or followed me to the roof and demanded I hum for you.”
“Well I hadn’t heard you hum before,” Samira snarks, and then continues, “I know today was especially difficult for you, Trinity. I saw how hard you tried to avoid Langdon, and how bothered you were by having to work with him.”
He’s wrong.
Trinity frowns. She had thought after the two of them had saved that patient together ten months ago that Samira was warming up to her. She still remembers how it felt to be scolded by nearly every doctor she worked with on her first day, and the way that it stung especially hard coming from Samira. But then, Trinity took the fall and gave Samira the credit, and Samira seemed to understand her better. Except they never did click like that again, Samira always keeping her at a professional distance and calling her Dr. Santos. Never Trinity.
“I thought you were friends with Langdon,” she says finally, “You two have known each other for years.”
Samira tilts her head, like she doesn’t understand the relevance. “Doctor Langdon and I have always been friendly. It’s a little weird now that we’re both senior residents when he should be my attending. But that doesn’t mean I don’t remember watching him yell at you for something that wasn’t your fault.”
May I ask why you did that?
“It was ten months ago,” Trinity huffs, and finally looks away from her. “I didn’t realize you remembered that. You don’t seem to think about me much at all.”
“Trinity,” Samira says softly, “I—“
“No, actually, I can’t do this” Trinity interrupts, unable to help the way her voice rises in volume. “You shut me out. I know you’re my superior and I was just an intern, but you completely cut me off just as I thought I found someone who didn’t hate me, and then everyone started treating me like I did something wrong when no one even knows the full story and I didn’t do anything wrong—“
“Hey,” Samira cuts her off quietly, but it’s enough to stop her rambling herself into a bigger problem. “What are you talking about?”
“No one really knows what happened with Langdon last year,” Trinity responds. “But everyone knows I had something to do with it. And I’m new here, I don’t have the bonds and history he does, so they all treat me like a pariah—“
Maybe you’re a pariah because you don’t play well with others.
She stops herself.
“I’m sorry,” Samira says, which shocks her enough to allow her to say, “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was avoiding you. It was just— It had nothing to do with Langdon. I told you he was in the wrong for treating you that way. I didn’t realize you’ve thought that this whole time.”
You’re very good at this.
She’s too tired and sore to process what Samira is saying. “What? Then why have you been avoiding me since my first day?”
At this, Samira’s cheeks turn pink and she looks away from her. Trinity watches as several expressions make their way onto her face, unable to read any of them, until she settles with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and turning white where she bites it. Trinity can’t look away.
“It had nothing to do with Langdon,” Samira repeats quietly. “And everything to do with Garcia.”
This throws Trinity for a loop, and her mouth opens in shock. Garcia? What the hell did Garcia have to do with this?
Before she can even ask out loud, Samira groans and lifts her hands so that she falls backwards, using them to cover her face instead. Trinity can’t help but follow her into position, laying down slowly and turning her heads towards the woman next to her. “Samira?”
“Okay,” she says, the word muffled into her hands. “We’re doing this.”
She removes her hands from her face, apples of her cheeks still red. “Trinity. I’ve had a crush on you since the moment you took the fall for me and stood there while Langdon screamed at you, and you just took it even though it was your save and I just — I thought you were brave.”
“Brave,” Trinity repeats, breathless in disbelief. “What?”
Samira looks directly into her eyes when she says, “Yes.”
You’re very good at this.
“But why didn’t you talk to me?” she asks, ashamed of the way a whine works itself into her voice and makes her sound like a child.
“You started going out with Garcia a few weeks later,” Samira answers quietly, picking at the pilled fabric on her jacket sleeve. “I decided I needed to keep my distance until I could be normal about it.”
“You’ve kept your distance for ten months.”
“Well, I haven’t been able to be normal about it.”
Trinity releases a sharp breath, eyes darting back and forth across Samira’s face as she tries to determine whether she’s telling the truth. This feels like some stupid prank. There’s no way Samira Mohan has had feelings for her this entire time. She was jealous of Garcia, oh my god.
“Are you still going to New Jersey?” She doesn’t know why now is the time to ask, but it’s the only thing she can force herself to say.
“No,” Samira shakes her head.
“You’re staying here?”
“I’m staying,” she answers, and the words have layered meaning.
Trinity blinks at her. Samira purses her lips to the side as if she’s trying to tuck her emotions back inside her body.
Finally, she says, “Do you actually want to talk about your panic attack?”
Samira’s face relaxes. “I don’t not want to talk about it.”
Trinity allows her the moment of silence she takes before she continues, “It’s embarrassing. I’m a senior resident and I crashed out because of my mommy issues—“
Trinity tsks at her, “That’s Robby speak. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
She receives a hum in response. “Still, I let my personal issues affect my work and my patients, and then I made everyone worry about me for no reason.”
“Not for no reason,” Trinity frowns, “Samira, everyone in the Pitt worried about you because they like you. You’re kind, and funny, and the best doctor here.”
“You think so?” Her voice is breathless, eyes glossy and reflecting the soft yellow of the streetlights surrounding them.
“You told me on my first day that I’m good at this,” Trinity tells her, unsure if she really remembers their conversation. “You’re one of few people who gave me real advice, and all I wanted to do was prove you right. It’s embarrassing how much I want to impress you.”
“You do impress me,” Samira says, “Trinity, you’re a great doctor.”
Trinity is already shaking her head. “I’m fine. But I don’t connect with patients the way you do, I don’t know how to be nice to people, I default to sarcasm—“
“Are you trying to talk me out of liking you?” There’s a smile on her face as she asks, like she finds the idea funny. “I’ve seen you at your worst, and I’ve seen you at your best. I know you, Trinity.”
“Do you?” She hates the way her voice sounds so small. “I’m mean, and I don’t play well with others, and I only have one real friend, and I’m even bad at being nice to him all the time—“
She stops herself this time, staring down at the place where Samira’s hand has moved to cover hers. Trinity can’t help the way she clings on tightly when their fingers intertwine. It causes Samira’s smile to spread wider, and she swears there’s a goddamn twinkle in her eye.
“I know that,” Samira nods, “You want my list of flaws, too? I barely take care of myself outside of work, I run myself into the ground nearly every shift, I don’t even have a throw blanket for my couch, and I’m guilty of acting with my heart before my head nine times out of ten.”
“You’re doing an even worse job of talking me out of liking you,” Trinity can’t fight the grin that tugs at her lips. “I have a spare throw blanket you can have.”
“More than one throw blanket?” Samira gasps dramatically, “I didn’t know you were so fancy.”
“Yeah, that one is on my pros list, but I haven’t gotten there yet,” she teases, and she realizes as she says it that she’s settled into this comfortable moment that she never wants to leave. But still, she forces herself to say, “Garcia and I broke up. Kind of. We weren’t really official to begin with.”
“I’m sorry,” Samira does look genuinely apologetic.
“Me too,” Trinity agrees, “I would’ve liked to see you two battle it out for my hand.”
Samira snorts, and it’s such an unelegant sound that it rips a laugh from Trinity’s chest. “For what it’s worth, I did sometimes feel like ripping my gloves off and throwing them at her feet.”
And god, it’s so ridiculous but it lights Trinity up from the inside. “That’s actually worth a lot.”
They lay there on the roof and smile at one another for several moments. It’s silly, and they should have gone home by now. Trinity can still feel the sadness and exhaustion of the shift in her bones, but she relishes in this moment of reprieve with Samira’s eyes on her. She rubs her thumb back and forth against soft skin where their hands are still tangled, and feels a shiver run through her body when Samira copies the movement.
“I’m kind of dreading going home,” Trinity admits, breaking their shared silence. “Whitaker and I have been kind of weird today, and I know he won’t be there tonight, and I hate being alone.”
“You can come home with me,” Samira offers, and rolls her eyes at the way Trinity wiggles her eyebrows. “Not like that.”
“Where am I going to sleep? You’re going to put me on your couch with no blanket?”
“Guess we’d just have to share.”
Trinity hums thoughtfully. “That’s very forward of you, Dr. Mohan.”
“Is that a yes, Dr. Santos?”
For once, hearing the title on Samira’s lips doesn’t make her feel like a wilted plant. It sends a thrill directly through her bones like a jolt of electricity. She forces herself to sit upright, and then stand, before holding a hand out in front of her. “Ready?”
Samira’s smile is brilliant as she takes her hand and allows herself to be pulled to her feet. “Lead the way.”
“I don’t know where you live, Mira,” she says. “I kinda need you to lead the way.”
She relishes in the way Samira shivers at the nickname. Just as she’s about to tease her, Samira catches her off guard and darts forward, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. There’s a burst of color in the sky behind them. “Follow me.”
Trinity doesn’t want to think about how red her cheeks are. She clears her throat and allows Samira to pull her along towards the roof exit, unable to help the way she whines, “You missed.”
Samira laughs, and it’s a full, clear sound. “I’ll kiss you goodnight if you sing me to sleep.”
“Deal. Any requests?”