Chapter Text
For the 10 long months that Garcia and Santos had been “keeping it casual”, it only took 3 words to tear down whatever ‘good’ thing they had going. She should have known better. Garcia had said it from the beginning, that they were keeping it casual, it was stupid for Trinity to have ever thought it was more, to have wanted more.
It had been a warm night. The curtains danced in front of an open window, billowing in the soft summer breeze, as the final streaks of daylight faded behind the city's skyscrapers. It wasn't uncommon for Trinity to find herself tangled in Garcia's sheets after a shift, settled comfortably in the older woman's arms. It had been a long day for the both of them, so when Whitaker slipped off to Amy's and Garcia asked if Santos wanted to go get a drink, how was she supposed to say no?
And that's where Santos ultimately found herself, legs wrapped round Yolanda, whispering praises and pleas into the early hours of the morning, a routine that both of them were all too familiar with. And after? She felt safe, peaceful. Warmth spread over Trinity, a release of endorphins intertwined with the remnants of alcohol in her system creating a dull buzz in the back of her mind.
After cleaning them both up and getting some water, Garcia had eagerly slipped back into bed, folding an arm around Santos’ middle, tracing patterns along her tattoos contently. This, this is where Trinity wished that she could stay forever, with no expectations or commitments, just her and Garcia, not knowing where one started and the other one ended. It should have scared her, that she felt this way about their relationship, but it didn't. Trinity had spent countless nights ruminating over this thing between the two of them, how she would often fall asleep to the sight of Yolanda and awaken entangled in her the next morning, or how Garcia looked at her when they danced together in the kitchen to some old Spanish love song. She had tried to push it away and pretend that she didn't feel more for the curly haired woman, but she couldn't, not anymore.
Realising this wasn't a revelation to have in her sleep deprived state, tucked under Garcia's chin, Trinity sighed and burrowed deeper into Yolanda's arms. What she meant to say was, “Goodnight”, yet in her haze, “What are we?” tumbled from Trinity’s lips. The hand at her middle stilled followed by a small intake of breath. Shit. That's not what she meant to say. Fuck her stupid happy Yolanda filled brain.
“Trin,” the voice above her warned. The pair hadn't spoken about the nature of their relationship since the first time they had hooked up. Garcia had been very clear that if they were going to do this, their relationship was completely casual, and with the stakes of their jobs and the two being coworkers, she didn't want ‘feelings getting involved’.
Trinity’s brain scrambled to undo the damage, “Sorry, no, I didn't mean- I just thought that maybe-” Garcia slowly untangled herself from behind Trinity, sitting up against the pillows. Feeling small under Yolanda's gaze, Trinity scrambled to follow her movements, her head bashing against the headboard in her urgency.
Garcia opened her mouth once like she was about to say something, before shutting it quickly, gritting her teeth. “No. I don't know what you are thinking,” her face hardened and she swallowed once before speaking again, “but I told you the terms of our situation before we got involved.”
Trinity nodded frantically, “I know, I shouldn't have bought it up but,” now or never, she thought. These feelings had been eating away at her for months now, and if Garcia didn't feel the same, well, then maybe they weren't meant to be in the first place. “Whatever we are doing isn't casual, it hasn't been casual for weeks. You have a key to my apartment, you buy me coffee before every shift, I teach you old family recipes and then we cuddle on the couch watching ‘the L word’, hell I met your med school friends last week.”
Garcia stared at her intently. Trinity carried on. "I'm not just going to sit here and pretend that what I feel for you is just casual. And it's not just me, I see the way you look at me, please Garcia." Begging. Trinity really had hit an all time low. Tears welled in her eyes as Garcia's face shifted from something panicked to frustration.
“Santos,” Fuck. “I have made my intentions with you very clear and if you can't handle the fact that this,” she waves her hand between them, “is just sex, maybe we need to reconsider what we are doing here,” Trinity could feel her walls building back up. She knows Garcia. When she feels cornered she gets mean, hurtful. “And the way I look at you, is the same way I look at any other girl that I sleep with. You're not special, Santos.”
“Maybe you should just leave,” Garcia snarked.
Her words felt like a punch to the gut. Trinity felt anger bubble inside her. Anger was good, it was familiar, she knew what to do with rage. “You're being serious? So what these last 10 months have meant nothing to you. I mean nothing to you? Yolanda please think about what you’re saying, you can’t just push me away when something scares you.”
“I’m not pushing you away. God Trinity, why do you have to make this so difficult?” She paused for a moment, frustration bleeding out of every word, jaw clenched tightly, “maybe Langdon was right, you don't know your place, you're just trouble.”
Now that was a low blow. They had spoken about Langdon before. Trinity had explained (albeit only briefly) how the situation had brought up some bad memories from her past, and in trying to do the right thing, she had become a pariah in the ED. He was such an asshole, and no one understood how much it had affected her, how vulnerable she felt. Garcia had sincerely apologized for her ‘trouble’ comment over drinks two weeks after her first day and he had only been brought up a few times after that. So Yolanda bringing him up now, knowing how much he hurt her, was over the line.
“Fuck you Garcia,” The AC rumbled as Trinity vaulted out of the bed, away from Yolanda’s warmth and into the coldness of the darkening room. She gathered her clothes, hastily throwing them on, mind racing as she snatched her phone from the bedside table.
“Message me when you decide you can act like a grown up,” Trinity spat. She wouldn’t be treated like that, refusing to play victim to Yolanda's cruelty. Trinity hadn’t just torn her heart out for Garcia to stomp all over it. She needed air. She needed space. Trinity headed towards the front door grabbing her bag as her tears flowed freely. With shaky hands she fumbled with her shoes, breath heaving.
“Trinty, if you walk out that door,” Garcia's voice echoed desperately round the silent apartment “we are done. Over. Do you hear me?”
Trinity managed to weakly muffle a sob as she threw open the door. She didn’t bother with the elevator, running urgently down 4 flights of stairs into the humid summer night. She staggered to the side of the building, back flush against the brick as she slid down it. Trinity tried to get her breathing under control, knowing a panic attack was one of the worst things to happen right now, focusing instead on the way her nails cut into the palm of her hand. The pain was a worthy distraction as she scrambled for her phone. 12:48am. Her lock screen, a picture of her and Whitaker taken at a bar a few months into their friendship, only sent a pang of loneliness through her gut. She thought for a moment about calling him or literally anyone else to come and pick her up, but he was at the farm at least 45 minutes away and Trinity didn't have many other friends at the moment. So walking it is.
The journey home was long and hot. It took 53 minutes to walk from Garcia's back to her own apartment. The streets were filled with loud music and even louder people spilling out of the bars on ‘the strip’. It was a friday night so of course the city was bustling with friends and coworkers celebrating the weekend. Trinity just kept her head low and carried on walking, mind fading in and out of consciousness. Sweat beaded at her forehead as she neared the apartment, taking a last minute detour to the convenience store across the street. Trudging through the isles she grabbed a bottle of tequila and a new vape. She had tried to quit after Garcia had found her in the ambulance vaping on her break and proceeded to lecture Trinity for 20 minutes on ‘bettering her health’, but after tonight it was easy to fall back into old habits.
The apartment was dark and empty when she stepped inside. Not bothering to turn on any lights, she discarded her bag, toed off her shoes and headed towards her bedroom. Trinity moved silently around her room, changing into sleep shorts and an old faded graphic t before moving to the kitchen. Her brain was working on autopilot, the weight of Yolanda’s rejection and their argument clouded her thoughts, she was merely a passenger in her mind. She lazily grabbed her vape and tequila before pulling herself over to the couch, flipping on the side lamp.
Trinity stared at the blank screen of the TV for a few seconds. She felt numb. Discarded. How could she have been so stupid? She knew Garcia's terms and she knew how stubborn and closed off the older woman could be when talking about her emotions. Her chest felt heavy as the gravity of their fight hit her. Garcia had said they were over. Trinity cracked open the tequila bottle, her throat burned as took a large swig. She tried to blame the tears in her eyes on the alcohol as she took a second swig, chasing it down with a puff of her vape.
Santos followed that routine for a bit, alternating between the vape and the tequila until the nicotine and alcohol mixed in her bloodstream making her body feel overly warm and her thoughts looser. She whimpered loudly, feeling the sobs trying to escape from her chest. Trinity should have known better, she had ruined every good relationship in her life, who was she to think that this one was any different. Getting close to people would only hurt her in the long run. She needed to retreat, to forget that she ever felt anything other than ‘casual’ for Garcia, and rebuild her walls. She would not be blindsided by her feelings again.
The vape burned her already struggling lungs as she took a hit. The dizziness washed over her like a blanket, only furthering her delirium. She gasped for air, sobbing as she clutched her chest. Trinity thought of the sterile scalpel sat hidden in her bedside drawer. No, she needed to do something to numb her thoughts before she did something rash.
Santos clumsily searched between the couch cushions for the remote, finding it buried amongst the pillows. Tears blurred her vision as she scrambled to find something to distract herself with, before landing on some old episodes of Abbott Elementary that she and Dennis had been watching after their last shift. Still heaving, she tried to focus on the characters on screen in front of her. Trinity counted her breathing for the second time tonight, in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4. After a few minutes she began to calm down, taking a few more swigs from the tequila before settling it on the coffee table. Clutching the vape as her lifeline, Trinity tried to follow the episode playing on the screen, mindlessly drawing long hits and letting the smoky vapour fill her lungs.
The sitcom became white noise as Trinity felt her eyes drooping. Physically and emotionally exhausted, she curled further into the couch, head rested on the arm, legs tucked tightly beneath her. Garcia’s face clouded her mind as she drifted off, her dreams clouded with possibilities of what could have been.