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Baran Al-Hashimi did not date. She did not involve herself in flings or one-night stands. That life was behind her; she was not that woman anymore.
She’d sworn to herself after the downfall of her marriage that she was done trying, that she’d focus all her energy on work. She didn’t need anyone else. Who cared if the other side of the bed was cold each night?
Then it happened. She moved to Pittsburgh. A fateful decision. Switching jobs was nothing new to her. She even knew Samira from a past position which had made the switch a little easier to bear but she could never have seen this coming.
Trinity Santos.
Second year resident, full of wit and sarcasm. But there was something else, something different about her. A certain kindness hidden beneath a tough outer layer. The way her eyes twinkled with curiosity at every major case. Something about her was alluring in a way Baran just couldn’t pin. The doctor tried to ignore it. She was the attending for Christ's sake; she was the one in the position of power. These feelings, they were highly inappropriate - not proper for someone in her role.
But, oh, sweet, Trinity Santos. Baran could hardly keep her eyes off of her - and it had become noticeable.
***
Trinity told herself it was nothing. Attendings watched residents closely all the time, that was their job after-all. But this felt different. Trinity felt different. Sure, she’d had her fling with Garcia. But that was all it was, a fling. Someone to fuck then forget a few days later, using each other as nothing than a way to satisfy an urge. Maybe it was fun at first but not anymore, she had long grown bored of their meaningless relationship, and the young doctor had sworn that she was done fucking around with coworkers.
That promise didn’t last long.
Baran’s eyes paralysed her under their gaze. Nothing with Garcia had ever felt like this before. Trinity found herself jumping onto cases with her attending time after time, always the first to volunteer without really understanding why. Maybe it was just ambition, that’s what she had told herself anyway, choosing to ignore the way her heart fluttered at every interaction with the older doctor.
Neither of them could’ve expected the way it would end. One shift. One long, chaotic shift. They had been swamped from the start, beds filled with the remaining night-shift patients and chairs already at maximum capacity. Back-to-back emergencies had left the entire department exhausted, everyone running on caffeine and adrenaline alone. Time was passing in blurs of motion and by mid-afternoon, Trinity had stopped checking the time altogether.
She and Baran had ended up orbiting each other all day, pulled into the same cases again and again. A multi-vehicle collision brought in three patients at once; Trinity assisted on the most critical while Baran led, calm and precise even as the room filled with noise and urgency. Later, a complicated case had them shoulder to shoulder at the bedside, murmuring different potential diagnoses back and forth between themselves.
It should have felt like any other shift, routine in its chaos. But it didn’t. Trinity was hyper-aware of her in a way she couldn’t switch off. The brush of their arms when they reached for the same instrument, the low cadence of Baran’s voice when she explained something, the brief, approving nods that felt disproportionately satisfying.
The chaos softened into something more manageable, then into routine, and finally into that strange, hollow calm where the machines still beeped but no one was running anymore. The trauma bays were reset, charts were closed, and the last of the emergencies had either stabilised or been admitted upstairs. What remained was exhaustion, heavy and honest, settling into everyone’s bones at once.
Trinity felt it first in her shoulders. The adrenaline that had been holding her together all day finally gave way, leaving her with that familiar post-shift heaviness that made even standing feel like effort. She lingered near the nurses’ station longer than she needed to, watching the last bits of documentation being finished, pretending she was still mentally present enough to absorb anything more. In reality, her mind kept drifting back to the same place it had been drifting all day.
Across the department, Baran was still moving with the same composed precision she had carried through the entire shift. She looked slightly undone in the smallest ways only someone paying close attention would notice. sleeves rolled up, hair not quite as controlled as usual, mask hanging loose around her neck. But even like that, there was an ease in the way she stood, as if exhaustion had to negotiate its way through her discipline before it could reach her.
When she finished speaking quietly to one of the interns and finally looked up, her eyes found Trinity almost immediately. It didn’t feel accidental. It felt deliberate in a way that made Trinity’s pulse react before she had time to think about it.
“Santos,” Baran called out, her voice low and even.
Trinity straightened slightly without meaning to. “Yeah?”
“You did well today.” She spoke casually, “Really well. I’m impressed.”
It was the kind of feedback attendings gave all the time, the kind Trinity had heard variations of since the start of her residency. And yet, the way Baran said it made it feel less like a formal evaluation and more like something personal that had been noticed and remembered.
The young doctor bit the corner of her lip, trying to will herself out of blushing, “Thank you.”
Baran nodded once, as if acknowledging the response, then looked away toward the leftover mess of the shift. For a second, it seemed like that would be it. Just another exchange between attending and resident. Until she spoke again, her eyes drifting back to Trinity with a look that was suddenly stripped of all clinical distance.
Baran’s hand went to the back of her neck, tracing the edge of her collar. A faint, uncharacteristic flush crept up from her scrubs. "I was wondering," She begun, her voice dropping an octave to keep the remaining night staff from overhearing. She swallowed, her eyes darting briefly to a stack of patient charts before locking back onto Trinity's. "If you're free, I'd like to take you out. To dinner. This Saturday."
She shifted her weight, her reservations suddenly spilling out before she could stop herself, "If that’s crossing a line, or if you'd rather keep things strictly professional, I completely understand and apologise. I just... I wanted to ask." The silence that followed was brief, only seconds, but Baran’s pulse drummed heavily in her ears, the moment seeming to stretch for years.
"Like... a date?" Trinity asked, her voice barely above a whisper, wanting to be absolutely sure her exhausted brain wasn't misinterpreting the moment.
A small, genuinely relieved smile broke through Baran's nervous exterior, softening the sharp lines of her face. "Yes... if you’re open to it?”
“I think I’d like that.”
***
Baran stared at the empty seat across the table before discreetly reaching down to check her phone. She usually held herself to high public standards, never wanting to use her phone during a meal. She looked around nervously, seemingly worried that she would be scolded before dismissing that mindset and placing her phone on the table.
The time read 21:04. Over an hour has pased since the agreed arrival time. Trinity Santos may be painfully sarcastic and witty, even too confident at times, but Baran had never known her to be tardy. A small pang of worry begun to grow in the pit of her stomach.
She quickly tucked her phone away as the waiter refilled her champagne glass with an expression she couldn’t quite read - sympathy, maybe? Her eyes kept darting to the door every time it swung open, each time her disappointment increased. Surely, she’d be here any moment now-
Zzzzrrt-
Her phone vibrated with a notification. Baran jumped a little at the sudden motion, not realising how tightly wound she had become. A feeling of relief washed over her. Surely that was Trinity with an apology maybe? Something to let her know she was nearly there? Perhaps she had simply been caught in the evening traffic.
Whatever hopes the attending may have had were crushed as she read the message. Her eyes scanned through the text, darting through the words before her mind could process them.
T: cant make tonight :/
Her heart nearly dropped, swallowed into that pit in her stomach. The doctor bit her lip hoping the sharp pain would distract her from the way her lip wobbled.
Countless questions ran through her mind, mostly along the lines of 'What came up?' and 'Why?' as Baran typed up a reply quickly.
B: Are you alright? Everything okay?
The message back was almost instant yet offered no further explanation.
T: just cant make it tonight. sorry.
That was it..? Seriously? The doctor felt her brow crinkle before she swallowed the remainder of her drink in a single move. She couldn’t believe Trinity had blown her off like this, more so, she couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid to let herself fall for her - clearly the feelings weren’t mutual. Maybe this had been a whole scheme. Karma for being hard on her at the start of her employment?
Had she been playing the fool this whole time?
Humiliation and embarrassment burned at her core as Baran excused herself from the table, making sure to tip her waiter generously as she apologised for cancelling. Back in her car, she kept re-reading the message over and over, hoping that the words would change somehow.
She was embarrassed, upset, and more than anything, frustrated. Frustrated at Trinity for cancelling. Frustrated at herself for getting her own hopes up. Frustrated at the fact that she still wanted an answer.
It was almost pathetic. Baran was never really the type to have her emotions rule over her, but when it came to that young doctor, it was a whole different story. Her mind kept spinning. Why had she cancelled this late? Why had she been so vague? Why did she seem so… dismissive?
Maybe the drink had made her bold, or maybe she was just so let down that Baran couldn’t leave without a proper answer. She felt like an idiot, an idiot for allowing herself to be played and an idiot for falling for her along the way. This whole ‘date’ had humiliated her, the least she could do, for her own sake, was at-least get closure.
***
Before she had really figured out what she was doing, the doctor was already standing outside of Trinity’s building. The moment the knock of her knuckles echoed into the apartment, Baran suddenly felt unsure of herself. Yes, she wanted closure but was this really the right thing to do? Hadn’t she embarrassed herself enough for one night?
She dreaded to think how word of this would spread through the ER.
There was silence on the other side of the door. No giggling, no hushed whispers. Just nothing. Baran bit her lip, raising her hand to knock a final time.
The hallway light buzzed faintly overhead, casting everything in a tired yellow glow. Baran exhaled slowly, letting her hand fall away from the door.
This was ridiculous.
She had shown up at Trinity’s apartment like some desperate teenager looking for answers after being dumped before prom. The reality of it settled heavy in her chest, embarrassment crawling up her throat so sharply she almost winced.
What exactly had she expected to find here? Music? Another woman? Trinity laughing with friends while Baran stood outside like an idiot? Her jaw tightened. Enough.
Baran turned on her heel, already reaching for her car keys when she heard it - the soft scrape of something fumbling against the other side of the door. A lock clicked. Then another.
The door didn’t swing open with the brisk, dismissive energy Baran had been bracing herself for. Instead, it slowly cracked open an inch or two.
The warmth of the hallway light spilled into the gap, but the figure standing there remained mostly in shadow. Baran froze, her keys cutting sharply into her palm. Her speech - the sharp, dignified demand for closure she had rehearsed on the drive over withered on her tongue.
As the door opened a fraction wider, she could see the way Trinity was leaning heavily against the doorframe, her posture slumped and unbalanced, "Baran?"
“Trinity?” Baran hadn’t known what she was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this. The poor thing looked a mess.
Even in the dim light, it wasn’t hard to see the way her hair was half pinned up while the other half was falling out around her face with mascara smeared beneath reddened eyes. One side of her makeup was done while the other side remained bare, making the exhaustion underneath impossible to hide. She wore the red dress Baran had spent all evening imagining her in, except now it was hidden beneath a thick blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
Trinity just stared, her eyes glassy and unfocused, blinking slowly as if trying to process whether Baran was actually standing there or if she was just a byproduct of a fever dream. "You're here?" She whispered, voice was thick and gravelly.
“I am...” Baran struggled to find the correct words. She stared down at the shivering girl in the doorway, “I didn't- I didn’t realise you were sick, I thought-”
“Thought I stood you up?” The younger woman filled in the blank when the other hesitated. She coughed, a miserable sound before shaking her head, “I wouldn’t do that, not to you.”
Baran felt the remaining embers of her anger evaporate, replaced by a cold, sharp spike of guilt. "I'm sorry," She murmured, the admission slipping out before her professional exterior could slide back into place, "I shouldn't have assumed. I just... when you didn't give me an explanation, my mind went to the worst possible conclusion."
Trinity leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the doorframe, letting out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a wheeze. "I should’ve explained – I just didn't want you to think I was making fake excuses."
"Hey," Baran said gently, stepping closer. The professional distance she usually maintained collapsed entirely. She reached out, her fingers brushing the bare skin of Trinity’s shoulder where the blanket had fallen away, “Don’t worry about it now, you’re more important.”
Trinity opened her mouth to reply, but the sudden intake of air triggered a sharp, ragged gasp. Her eyes went wide with a sudden, panicked clarity, and she violently clamped a hand over her mouth.
Before Baran could even ask what was wrong, Trinity pivoted on her heel and bolted down the short hallway of her apartment, the heavy blanket trailing behind her like a discarded cape.
The doctor didn't hesitate. She stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her automatically as she followed the frantic sound of footsteps and the unmistakable, desperate scuffle of someone hitting the bathroom floor.
By the time Baran reached the doorway, Trinity was already on her knees in front of the toilet, clutching the porcelain bowl as her shoulders heaved violently. A harsh, painful retch tore through her, followed by the miserable sound of her stomach emptying.
It was a vulnerable, deeply unglamourous sight. Trinity expected the heavy silence of an empty apartment to follow. She expected Baran to take one look at the disgusting reality of the situation, turn right back around, and walk out to preserve whatever dignity they both had left.
Instead, she felt the cool, steady presence of the older doctor settling onto the tiled floor right beside her.
"I've got you," Baran murmured softly, gently scooping the hair that had fallen in front of her face and holding it back in her hands, “You’re okay, just try and breathe for me, there you go, good girl.” She continued to mutter sweet nothings until it was over.
Trinity let out a choked sob, a mixture of another wave of nausea and sheer, overwhelming relief. She couldn't even find the strength to lift her head as another spasm gripped her stomach. She felt awful, now being seen like this? It couldn’t get any worse.
But Baran didn't flinch. She shifted closer, her thigh pressing against Trinity’s side to offer physical support, effectively keeping her from slumping entirely onto the floor. "I know, it's awful. You're doing so well, azizam. Just breathe through it."
The term of endearment slipped out so naturally that Baran didn't even register it, but it sent a strange, warm spark through Trinity’s fever-addled mind.
Finally, the spasms begun to subside, leaving Trinity leaning heavily against the toilet, panting heavily, her forehead resting against her arm. The bathroom was dead silent save for her ragged breathing and the faint hum of the apartment's ventilation.
"All done?" Baran asked softly.
Trinity gave a weak, pathetic nod, her eyes tightly shut.
Baran waited another moment to ensure the wave had truly passed before carefully releasing Trinity’s hair. She reached up to the sink counter, grabbing a hand towel and running it under the cold tap. Wringing it out, she turned back to the trembling girl on the floor.
"Look at me," Baran murmured.
When Trinity slowly opened her glassy eyes and turned her head, Baran gently wiped the damp towel across her forehead, down her cheeks, and around her mouth, tenderly clearing away the sweat and the remnants of the ordeal. The cool cloth felt like heaven against Trinity’s burning skin.
"Can you sit up for me?"
With Baran’s arm securely around her waist, Trinity managed to shift until she was sitting with her back against the bathtub, her legs curled up toward her chest.
"I-I ruined everything," She suddenly whispered, looking down at her lap, unable to meet Baran's gaze. A fresh tear cut a clean line through the smeared mascara on her cheek. "I wanted tonight to be... I wanted to show you I could be serious. That I could be... someone you’d actually want to go out with. And I tried, I tried to get dressed, but I couldn't even make it out the door."
Baran paused, the damp towel resting in her lap. The confession struck a chord deep in her chest. She reached out, her fingers gently cupping Trinity’s chin and lifting her face until their eyes locked.
"Trin’, look at me," Baran said, her voice fiercely earnest. "You haven't ruined anything. Do you honestly think my opinion of you is so fragile that illness changes how I feel?" She offered a small, reassuring smile. "If anything, I am furious at myself for letting my pride get the better of me. I should have known you wouldn't just blow me off."
Trinity swallowed hard, her voice incredibly small. "Really?"
"Really," Baran promised. She leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of Trinity’s head, entirely unbothered by the lack of glamour in the moment. "Now, as a physician, and your very stubborn date, I am ordering you to bed. Let’s get you out of this dress and into something comfortable."
For the first time all night, a tiny hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of Trinity’s mouth, "Doctor's orders?”.
"Doctor's orders," Baran smiled, wrapping her arms around Trinity to help lift her up from the floor. "Come on. Let’s get you taken care of."