Chapter Text
Baran Al-Hashimi is not somebody who cracked under pressure. It was evident in the way she held herself -- poised. Careful. She never let that composure slip.
Even in the relentlessly chaotic Pittsburgh ED, she remained professional. She didn’t let Robby’s evasion get to her. His belittling comments towards her and the other female staff were brushed off.
She knew that the only way to understand this place, both its staff and procedures, was to observe. So, that’s what she did. She merely smiled when Dr. Santos gave her attitude. She chastised Robby, sure, but never yelled at him. But she should’ve.
It was finally the end of the shift, and Baran was far past concerned about the state of the ED. She had seen tense, chaotic environments before in her time in Afghanistan, but she’d never seen a professional environment where the staff was tense because of each other.
Her composure was long gone by now, which was a rare sight. Medically, a few cases rattled her. The only few that got to her were children and mothers, which was unsurprising, considering her time spent in Afghanistan. Doctors without Borders had been gratifying, but had also resulted in PTSD that she couldn’t shake. She spent years with a therapist, but despite her efforts, she had developed psychogenic non-epileptic seizures, or PNES, which were basically dissociative episodes where she was unaware of her surroundings.
They hadn’t occurred recently. She had been seeing a neurologist, who got her the diagnosis and referred her to a therapist who specialized in CBT. So she switched therapists and did the work. The seizures had mostly stopped, but she had two today, in front of all her new colleagues. Robby ripped her a new one when he found out. But he was gone on sabbatical anyway, and now the ED was hers.
Her first seizure had occurred after seeing the abandoned baby Jane Doe. The sight of the baby, only a few months old, already suffering, triggered something within her that she thought was gone. But how could she ever unsee the horrible things she’d witnessed? Baran knew that recovery wasn’t linear, but she hated being thrown back in her progress. Her heart ached when she stepped into the bathroom, distraught at the child’s suffering. She hated seeing people hurt who didn’t deserve it.
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, that was likely why she found herself drawn to one of the residents: Trinity Santos. She was guarded -- mean, even. But Baran had met enough people to know that somebody as guarded as her was traumatized. Despite herself, she wanted to know why. Wanted to understand the motivations behind her sharp retorts and sarcastic remarks.
Despite her exterior, Santos was a good doctor. She cared for her patients and was able to solve the weird cases that had others stumped. It was only her first day meeting her, but she saw the way she comforted children under her care, and heard about her figuring out the turmeric case from Dr. McKay. Her front was just that -- a front. And it was obvious to anyone who took the time to see it.
Baran’s desire to understand the younger woman came with such an intensity that it shocked even her. She hadn’t felt that urge to know someone, inside and out, since she first met her ex-wife, Alice. Maybe it was because, deep down, Trinity looked like she wanted that. Someone to know her, to care for her, to listen to all of her stories, and hold her while she cried.
Baran knew for a fact that she wasn’t getting that. If her assumptions and overheard gossip were right, then Trinity was actively hooking up with Garcia, whom Baran had unfortunately interacted with numerous times throughout the day.
Garcia was snarky, confident, and blunt, and didn’t seem capable of any sort of intimacy. She had shown that side of her all day, even to Baran, where she had scolded her for her slash trach. The slash trach which saved someone’s life, but that wasn’t an important detail for the overly-confident surgeon.
Throughout her shift, Baran found herself watching Trinity. She observed how she avoided her gaze when it was just the two of them, yet searched for it during the trauma with Langdon and Garcia in the room. She looked to her for praise, for reassurance, even if she didn’t notice it. But Baran did. And she had no problem giving it.
Little remarks like “well done,” and “great job, Dr. Santos,” slipped out with ease, and she watched as Trinity’s head ducked away from her gaze each time. It was incredibly endearing.
Currently, Baran was opening her locker and gathering her things, exhausted from a long first day. Trinity rounded the corner, coming towards her own locker, looking exhausted.
Baran glanced at her, pausing in her movements to watch her unlock her locker.
“Dr. Santos,” she said after a moment of silence, slinging her purse onto her shoulder. “Great job today. I know it was a long shift.”
Trinity barely stifled a sigh and glanced at her for a moment before looking back at her locker.
“Thanks,” she mumbled half-heartedly, pulling the metal door open.
Baran shut her locker door, listening for the click of the lock.
“You look exhausted. Are you working tomorrow?” Baran asked, unable to hide her concern.
“Sadly, yes,” Trinity sighed, grabbing her backpack.
Baran hummed empathetically, eyes searching her face.
“Well, get some rest, then, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow,” Baran replied.
She watched as Trinity nodded, shutting her own locker, still avoiding her gaze as if her life depended on it.
Baran wished that she had another excuse to continue the conversation, but she had little to talk about, and honestly, was exhausted herself. She simply nodded at Trinity, lips pressed together as she started to walk towards the exit.
“Dr. Al-Hashimi?” Trinity called out, which made her pause.
Baran turned around, one hand on her purse strap, eyes landing on Trinity’s exhausted ones.
“Do you really think I’ll have to repeat my R2 year?” She asked, sounding uncharacteristically small.
Baran’s eyes softened, and she took a few steps closer.
“No, I don’t think that. I shouldn’t have said that. I thought you’d need some motivation to work on charting, but I am now realizing that it did not come out that way.”
Trinity deflated slightly, some of the tension leaving her body.
“Oh. I just don’t think I could live it down if I were the same year as Huckleberry,” Trinity said, attempting at sarcasm.
Baran tilted her head. “Huckleberry?”
Trinity almost smiled. “Whitaker. It’s a nickname I came up with on our first day, and it just stuck, I guess.”
Baran smiled slightly at the obvious familiarity between the two.
“Are you two close?” she asked, taking the opportunity to continue the conversation.
“Something like that.” Trinity shrugged, shoving her hands in her scrub pockets. “We live together, so..”
“Do you really?” Baran asked, surprise coloring her tone. “I can’t imagine living with someone I work with. That’s way too much time together.”
“Well, he spends a lot of time at Amy’s, so I’m mostly alone.”
Baran picked up on the hint of bitterness in her tone when she said that, but chose not to comment on it.
“Is he going there tonight? Being alone after a hard shift is sometimes not the best idea. I know a lot happened today with you and Langdon.”
Trinity stiffened at the mention of Langdon, and Baran could practically see her walls flying up.
“He is. But it’s fine. It’s much quieter without him, anyway. And he eats all of my food,” she tried, but Baran could see the way her hands clenched imperceptibly in her pockets. The vulnerability in her eyes was hard to miss.
“Is it fine?” Baran asked bluntly, her concern for the younger woman overriding her usual poise.
Trinity scoffed. “Obviously. I don’t need him.”
“No, of course not. But it’s okay to want company,” Baran said softly, eyes never leaving her face. But, again, Trinity dodged her gaze.
She didn’t reply for a minute, jaw clenched.
“I don’t want company.”
“It sure took you a long time to admit that,” Baran retorted. “It makes you human. Frankly, I’m going home to an empty house too, and I’m dreading it.”
Trinity glanced up a little too fast, her mask slipping.
“That sucks. I’m not dreading it,” she deadpanned, still trying to hold onto her composure.
“I think you are,” Baran replied, pushing her luck. “It’s the Fourth of July. Don’t you want to go watch fireworks with someone?”
That hit a little too close to home for Trinity.
“I had plans, but they got cancelled,” she admitted, both irritated and comforted at the ease with which Baran read her.
“So make new plans. I can see great fireworks from my lawn. Would you like to come?”
Her question surprised even her. Baran knew close to nothing about this woman. They had met today, and hadn’t even been kind to one another. Yet, the invitation slipped out before she could stop it.
“Sorry, what?” Trinity asked, blinking at her.
“You heard me. Would you like to come home with me and watch the fireworks?”
There was silence for a moment, and then Trinity spoke.
“You don’t even like me.”
“That’s not true. I don’t even know you.”
Trinity stared at her, trying to understand why she was being so nice.
“But I’d like to,” Baran admitted, nerves making her stomach clench.