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The roof was the only place in the hospital that ever felt honest. The emergency department never truly slept. Even now, after the chaos of the Fourth of July had finally begun to settle, the muffled sounds of monitors, stretchers, and tired conversations drifted up through the concrete beneath Trinity Santos's feet.
She wrapped her arms around herself against the cool night air and stared out across the Pittsburgh skyline.
The fireworks were over. The city had moved on. She wished her mind would do the same.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the shift all over again.
The little boy in Bay Three.
The overdose who never woke up.
The families torn apart by grief.
Faces blurred together until they became every patient she'd ever lost.
Every person she couldn't save.
Every goodbye she still carried.
She hadn't heard the rooftop door open.
"Figured I'd find someone stealing my fresh air."
Jack Abbot's voice was quiet enough that it didn't startle her.
She didn't turn around.
"I knew it'd be you... or Robby"
He stepped outside and let the heavy door close behind him with a soft click.
He didn't rush toward her.
He didn't demand answers.
He simply leaned against the wall a respectful distance away and looked out at the city with her.
"Hell of a shift," he said.
Trinity gave a humourless laugh.
"That's one way to put it."
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
Jack had spent enough years in emergency medicine to know that silence wasn't always something to fill.
Sometimes it was something to share.
Eventually, Trinity broke it.
"You ever have one of those days where every patient you've ever lost decides to come back all at once?"
He nodded.
"Yeah."
"The kid today..."
"I know."
"The overdose."
"I know."
"The families-"
"I know."
Her shoulders sagged.
"It just keeps stacking."
She rubbed at her sleeve absentmindedly, fingertips brushing over old scars hidden beneath the fabric.
The motion was unconscious. Jack noticed anyway.
She had never been very good at hiding when she was hurting.
"I keep seeing Hannah," she whispered.
Jack looked over.
"My best friend."
He remembered the name.
Only from passing rumours during shift changes.
Never the full story.
"We used to promise we'd get out," Trinity continued.
"We'd leave town. Become doctors. Prove everyone wrong."
A faint smile crossed her face.
"She never got the chance."
The smile disappeared just as quickly.
"I still have one of her voicemails."
Jack stayed quiet.
"I missed the signs," she said.
"People kept asking if I'd known she was struggling."
Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks.
"I should have known."
"You were a kid."
"I still should've known."
"No."
His voice was calm but certain.
"You were a child who lost her best friend."
Those words seemed to stop her in place.
A child.
Not someone expected to carry the weight of another person's pain.
Not someone who should have known how to save everyone.
"My parents always said everything was my fault."
The admission came out so softly that it almost disappeared into the wind.
Jack's expression tightened.
He had suspected pieces of it over the months.
The way loud voices made her flinch.
The way she instinctively recoiled from unexpected touch before forcing herself to relax.
The panic that surfaced after certain assault cases.
The tiredness always excused by work.
The way she always seemed prepared for the worst before anyone else even noticed something was wrong.
He had never asked for details.
He didn't need them.
Whatever had happened during her childhood had left wounds that medicine couldn't stitch closed.
"No kid deserves to grow up afraid in their own home," he said quietly.
Trinity swallowed hard.
"They took so much from me."
She didn't elaborate, she didn't have to.
Jack simply nodded.
"I'm sorry."
The sincerity in those two words nearly undid her.
"I haven't hurt myself in years," she admitted after another long silence.
"But sometimes..."
She couldn't finish the sentence.
Jack understood anyway.
"Those thoughts can come back when someone has been through what you've been through," he said gently.
"They're a sign that you're carrying too much by yourself."
She looked away.
"I'm so tired."
"I know."
"I'm tired of pretending I'm okay."
"Then don't."
The tears came harder now.
Not because he had fixed anything.
Because he hadn't tried to.
He wasn't telling her to be stronger.
He wasn't reminding her that other people had it worse.
He wasn't asking her to smile.
He was simply standing beside her, making sure she wasn't alone.
After several minutes, her breathing began to slow.
Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
"I'm calling Whittaker."
She groaned immediately.
"Oh, absolutely not."
"Absolutely yes."
"He'll never let me forget this."
Jack smiled.
"He'll make tea, complain the entire drive home, insist you eat something, and pretend he's annoyed every time he checks that you're still awake."
"...He would."
"He cares about you."
"He'd deny it."
"So would you."
She couldn't argue with that.
Jack dialed.
Dennis answered almost immediately.
"Please tell me this isn't another trauma."
"No."
A pause.
"It's Trinity."
The silence on the other end stretched for a heartbeat.
Then Dennis's voice changed completely.
"What happened?"
"Long shift."
Jack glanced toward Trinity.
"She needs to head home."
"I'm already grabbing my keys."
"No questions?"
"I'll ask them tomorrow."
Another pause.
"Just stay with her until I get there."
"I will."
The call ended.
Neither of them spoke while they waited.
The cool breeze carried the last traces of smoke from the fireworks over the city.
Several minutes later, footsteps echoed through the stairwell.
The rooftop door flew open.
Dennis looked like he'd left his apartment in whatever clothes he'd happened to be wearing.
His hair was a mess.
His shoes weren't tied.
He spotted Trinity immediately.
"You look terrible."
She laughed despite herself.
"You really know how to comfort people."
"I've been practicing."
He approached slowly.
"Can I hug you?"
She nodded.
The hug was brief.
Awkward.
Careful.
Exactly what she needed.
When he stepped back, he looked her over with obvious concern before turning to Jack.
"Thank you."
Jack nodded once.
"Take her home."
Dennis looked back at Trinity.
"I already ordered food."
"I'm not hungry."
"Didn't ask."
"I'm just going to sleep."
"After food."
"You are unbelievably bossy."
"I learned from Abbot."
Jack rolled his eyes.
"I heard that."
As they started toward the stairwell, Trinity stopped and looked back.
"Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
His smile was small but warm.
"You don't have to carry all of this alone anymore."
For the first time in years, she allowed herself to believe that maybe she didn't.
Dennis bumped her shoulder as they disappeared into the stairwell.
"So."
"So?"
"You want to tell me what happened?"
She thought about it.
"Not tonight."
He nodded without hesitation.
"Okay."
Another flight of stairs.
"You want to sit on the couch, eat bad delivery pizza, and not talk?"
A tiny smile appeared.
"...Yeah."
"I can do that."
Together, they walked back into the bright hospital corridors.
The shift was over. The pain wasn't. Neither was the grief. Recovery wouldn't happen overnight. But this time, Trinity wasn't walking into tomorrow by herself.