Chapter Text
Code Hula Hoop. The words that struck fear into the hearts of all the staff in the Pitt.
It had started off as a fine enough shift. A few major traumas, a few more minor accidents, but nothing the department couldn’t handle. Nothing to really make anyone’s blood pressure spike more than usual. The pace of the day moved along as normal, interspersed with the usual bursts of activity that accompanied their urban ED. And maybe that’s how it always started, the Pitt luring them into a false sense of security just so it could then shatter it with extra sick glee.
Santos was snarkier than usual that day, handing out biting quips like it was her damn job as much as the medicine was. Langdon, even after 3 months back, was still giving her his best kicked-puppy impression, and she still wasn’t having it. He refused to budge on sharing the true reason for his absence with the class, and if Trinity Santos was one thing, it was stubborn (or as she called it, “committed to her principles.”)
But besides Langdon, everyone else in the Pitt had started to grow on her like a damn fungus. Life with Whitaker was… passable, Robby had taken a (teeny, tiny) “life-changing” sabbatical of a week and a half and come back without a redwood up his ass, and things with Garcia were okay at the moment. Mel had survived her deposition, and even gone out to karaoke once more. Santos had learned about McKay’s street med work and that had won her a lot of points in her book - plus, the woman had to be a saint for even trying with Ogilvie. Joy was clearly a sarcasm savant, and even if Javadi was still on her to stop saying that word, her gripes were grating on Santos less as the days went on.
Fucking assholes, becoming endearing.
“How’s the charting, Santos?” A voice asked over her shoulder. Santos slumped before turning to face Dr. Al.
Well, almost everyone was endearing.
“I’m working on it, but I need to go check in on my patient before he hits the ceiling,” Santos sighed, already standing. Dr. Al gave her what she probably thought was a sympathetic smile before moving on to torture someone else. Santos’ patient, Mr. James Hargrove, had been on her ass since he’d come in three hours ago. The man had suffered a workplace fall and was waiting on a CT scan… and waiting, and waiting, and waiting, just like everyone else. There wasn’t exactly much Santos could do about the wait, but she still made her way across the hall to check in.
“Mr. Hargrove, it’s me again.” Santos couldn’t even muster up a closed-mouth smile for this fuming man taking up bedspace. She was about 99% sure he was fine and milking this for the worker’s comp claim, but if he wanted so sit here all day, more power to him. “I know you’re still waiting, but we’ll get you moving as soon as we can.”
Mr. Hargrove lay reclined in his bed, playing on his phone and apparently perfectly comfortable, despite the scowl on his face. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, and Santos responded with a tight-lipped smile that she immediately sensed was the wrong response.
“Why the fuck am I even here?” The man asked, dropping his phone and clenching his hands in his lap. His jaw was visibly clenched, the tips of his ears pink. His heart rate started to pick up just a bit, nothing tachy yet. Something seemed to shift and change in the air of the room, something unspoken.
“Well, that was your choice, sir. I’m sure the HR department will appreciate your thoroughness.” Santos took one step closer, preparing to wax poetic about worker’s comp and insurance, when she noticed Mr. Hargrave start rubbing at his chest. Alarm bells started to ring in the back of her head. “Hey, what’s going on there?”
“I’m fine,” he replied, raising a hand to brush her off. “I’m getting out of here.” He swung one leg off the bed, preparing to rise, but then swayed as if the world had tilted and turned on him.
“Whoa-” Trinity lunged forward and placed a hand on his arm for support. As soon as she made contact, all hell broke loose.
“I said I’m FINE,” Hargrave screamed. His face went red and filled with rage as if Santos had somehow flipped a switch she hadn’t known was there. He lunged for her throat, grabbing and squeezing as he shoved her up against the wall. Trinity saw stars as her head slammed into the wall with a sick crack. Pain shot through her skull, sharp and biting. At first she thought her ears were ringing, but then she realized it had just been the sound of metal instruments hitting the ground – he must have shoved her into a tray of something.
Hargrave’s entire face seemed to be pouring sweat. He was mumbling something that sounded like a stream of consciousness, or maybe a threat, but his teeth were gritted so tightly that Trinity couldn’t make it out. She wanted, needed, to scream for help, but the pain and pressure in her throat wouldn’t allow her even the smallest breath, let alone a yell for her life. The only thing she managed was a series of barely audible choking sounds. She tried to leverage her knee into Hargrave’s groin, but he only squeezed her neck harder, lifting her up against the wall as her feet began to dangle.
Oh fuck. oh fuck. She was going to die in this shitty ED with this shitty patient before she paid off her shitty student loans. The world started to go black around the edges as this pathetic excuse for a man squeezed tighter and tighter, seething and practically foaming at the mouth as though he could snap her head clean off her neck with just his bare hands.
Hell, maybe he could. Maybe they were about to find out.
Those rabid blue eyes, so filled with hate, were going to be the last thing she saw on this mortal coil. Those eyes that were practically all pupil, blown wide like some kind of animal backed into a corner. But then a yell reached them, and the patient looked away for a split second. In her periphery, Santos saw Langdon and Whitaker sprinting towards her, both of them screaming something unintelligible.
Great. Apparently there are worse last things to see was her last thought before Hargrave slammed her head back up against the wall and everything went black.