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Victoria Javadi has never been this stressed.
By the time the clock on the nursery wall creeps past four in the afternoon, she is sitting cross-legged on the soft rug beneath the crib.
Her back pressed against the changing table and her T-shirt damp with sweat despite the crack in the window letting cold November air drift into the room.
The nursery usually feels warm and peaceful, filled with muted colors, stuffed animals, and the faint scent of baby lotion.
Today, it feels much too small.
"Shhh," Victoria murmurs, carefully stroking the impossibly soft hair on the baby's head. "It's okay, Lily. I've got you."
Lily disagrees.
For the last two hours, she has cried almost without stopping. Vic had paced the hallway, offered another bottle, checked the diaper twice and sung every lullaby she could remember from childhood.
None of it had helped.
About fifteen minutes ago, the crying had changed for the worse.
Now every breath seemed to end in another desperate wail that tore straight through Victoria's chest.
She shifts Lily carefully against her shoulder, feeling the tiny body tremble with every sob.
"Please," she whispers before she can stop herself. "Please tell me what's wrong."
She is an experienced resident, granted, in psychiatry, but she has still survived medical school, licensing exams, and endless nights on call.
None of that has prepared her for a patient who cannot tell her where it hurts. She has never realized how much of her confidence depends on conversation.
This is the first time Trinity and Yolanda have trusted her to watch Lily alone.
It had taken lengthy instructions and two double-sitter afternoons with Dennis supervising from the couch.
The mothers of this house run a remarkably tight ship when it comes to their daughter.
Victoria had secretly found it adorable. Now she is beginning to understand why. She pictures Trinity's expression if she walked through the front door to find Lily crying like this.
Then she imagines Yolanda's.
A fresh wave of panic rolls through her. "They're going to kill me," she mutters.
"Lily," Victoria whispers again, gently brushing damp curls away from the baby's forehead. "Come on, sweetheart."
She pauses.
The skin beneath her fingertips feels warmer than before. Her own stomach drops.
She all but scrambles across the room, balancing Lily carefully against one shoulder while fumbling the digital thermometer from its case.
"Okay," she breathes, more to herself than to the baby. "Let's just see."
The thermometer beeps.
She stares. 101°F.
"...Shit."
Only half an hour ago Lily hadn't felt feverish at all. How had it risen this quickly?
Victoria begins pacing again, instinctively rocking Lily against her chest. The movement usually helps.
Today it only seems to make her more uncomfortable.
Lily lets out another cry so full of pain that Victoria feels something twist sharply inside her own chest.
"I know." She kisses the top of the baby's head. "I know, sweetheart."
"We're going to get you some help."
She starts toward the changing table, intending to lay Lily down just long enough to grab her phone.
That is when she notices Lily keeps reaching insistently toward the left side of her face.
Again.
And again.
Tiny fingers tug desperately at her ear.
Victoria freezes. Very carefully, she leans closer. A thin streak of yellow drainage glistens just inside the outer ear.
"Oh." Her voice becomes very quiet. "That's... that's not good."
Lily sniffles pitifully, her cries growing hoarse after so much screaming. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."
Victoria feels an unexpected sting behind her own eyes. "I'm so sorry I didn't notice sooner."
She kisses Lily's forehead once before fishing her phone from her pocket. Her fingers are already beginning to shake.
The Uber app feels strangely difficult to navigate. She mistypes her password once. Finally, she mangaes to book successfully.:Eight minutes away.
"Okay." She nods to herself. "We can do eight minutes." Everything suddenly becomes a checklist. But if she can do one thing, its remembering lists.
Outdoor onesie.
Tiny hat.
Extra blanket.
She wrestles the squirming, miserable baby into the fleece suit as gently as she can, apologizing every time another little cry escapes.
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
"Almost done."
By the time Lily is dressed, Victoria realizes she is still wearing slippers.
She rushes to pull on shoes and a jacket while balancing Lily against one hip.
Three minutes away.
Diaper bag. She retrieves it from the upstairs bathroom.
Weather-appropriate clothes. Close enough.
Medication list. Already inside.
Health insurance card. Front pocket.
Car seat—
Victoria stops so abruptly she nearly drops the diaper bag.
"...Fuck."
She has seen the seat. Somewhere near the front hallway.
But actually installing it? No.
Trinity had never shown her. Why would she have? Victoria had never planned on driving Lily anywhere.
Well. Plans have clearly changed.
She gathers everything by the front door, Lily still crying weakly against her shoulder as Victoria tries very hard not to let her own panic show.
There is exactly one person she trusts to answer immediately: Dennis.
He is spending Thanksgiving with family in Nebraska, still he picks up on the second ring.
"Vic, what—"
"No time." She is already breathing too fast.
"I need you to explain how to put the baby in the car seat and how to install the car seat."
Silence. Then Dennis says,teasingly, "Are you trying to kidnap her?"
Victoria squeezes her eyes shut. "Shut up, Dennis."
"Lily has a fever, and the Uber gets here in about two minutes. Please."
The joke disappears from his voice instantly. "Okay." She can practically hear him sitting upright.
"Listen carefully."
He quickly walks her through the steps of buckling her in correctly. Victoria files away every instruction with painstaking care. "Okay."
"Good." Dennis continues calmly. "And depending on the car," he adds after a thoughtful pause, "the driver might be able to help you if you're unsure. They aren't all built exactly the same."
A blue minivan turns into the driveway. "There." Victoria exhales shakily.
"That's them."
Without another word, she ends the call, shoulders the diaper bag, grips the car seat with one hand, and carefully steadies Lily with the other.
Thanksgiving shifts in the emergency department are their own peculiar kind of beast.
Its not the number of patients that makes them memorable, or the severity of the injuries.
Instead, every chart seems to arrive carrying an entire family history with it. Heart attacks interrupt dinners or grease burns happen while everyone insists they know the safest way to deep fry.
And too many alcohol-fueld arguments spill out of living rooms and into trauma bays.
It makes the fact that Trinity and Yolanda are missing out on their first family holiday feel marginally less unfair.
Still, she catches herself wondering what Lily is doing every twenty minutes.
Trinity misses her with an intensity that still surprises her, even after being back full time for a while.
She shakes herself out of the thought as she steps out of an examination bay, letting the curtain fall closed behind her.
"...You would think," Cassie says as she catches up beside her, "they'd be happy their grandmother is going home."
Trinity exhales, rubbing tiredly at the bridge of her nose. "Instead they're playing hot potato with who has to take care of her."
Cassie grimaces sympathetically while pulling the chart onto one of the central station monitors. "I sincerely hope my grandchildren never pull anything like that."
She glances sideways with an amused smile. "I've got the documentation on this one. Thanks for taking a look."
Trinity returns the smile, lifting two fingers in a lazy salute. "Always at your service, Granny."
The only response she earns is an exaggerated eye roll.
Comfortably leaning against the nurses' station, Trinity lets her eyes drift toward the patient board. Her brain is already sorting through the remaining names on her list when another patient suddenly appears at the bottom.
VIP.
Trinity frowns."Dana," she begins, leaning toward the charge nurse, "did you—"
"Must've been Lupe," Dana interrupts without looking up from her computer.
Before Trinity can ask another question, the ambulance doors slide open.
A woman in her late fifties with copper-red hair streaked generously with silver strides briskly toward central, holding a crying baby against her shoulder with surprising confidence.
Trinity's entire body goes still.
She knows that cry and she knows the yellow fleece onesie.
Her heart drops so violently it almost hurts. Lily?
For one impossible second, Trinity's brain refuses to understand what she is seeing.
Why is a stranger holding her daughter?
Only a heartbeat later, Victoria stumbles through the entrance behind them, one shoulder weighed down by the diaper bag while the infant carrier swings awkwardly from her opposite hand.
"Trin," she pants.
"Oh, this must be her mother." The older woman smiles warmly as she walks directly toward Trinity. "Good timing."
"I'm so sorry, Trin," Victoria says before she's even fully caught up. "She has a fever, and I think an ear infection."
Trinity barely hears the words. The moment Lily is transferred into her arms, the rest of the department fades into the background.
She immediately shifts her daughter higher against her chest, instinctively supporting her head while pressing a quick kiss against warm, soft skin.
"It's okay," she whispers, although she isn't entirely sure whether she's speaking to Lily or herself. The baby cries harder. The sound slices straight through her.
"Sorry," Victoria says breathlessly. "This is Monica." She gestures toward the woman beside her. "My Uber driver."
"Your... what?" The question escapes before Trinity can stop it, but the sharper edge in her voice only startles Lily further.
Her tiny face crumples and another piercing cry follows.
Monica gives a small shrug. "Just another pair of helping hands."
Trinity manages a grateful nod, though her attention never leaves her daughter. "Dana."
"Peds is open and ready." Trinity is already moving.
Cassie follows close behind. "I'll examine her."
Trinity rounds on her before they've even reached the bassinet. "Fuck off, McKay."
She carefully lowers Lily onto the mattress, her hands lingering just long enough to reassure herself she is settled safely.
"I can examine my own daughter."
Cassie doesn't so much as flinch. "I know you can." Her voice stays calm. "But you shouldn't. You're not allowed."
She reaches to unzip Lily's outdoor suit, only to discover her own fingers are shaking badly enough that she misses the zipper twice before finally catching it.
Her hands are trembling. Her breathing has become shallow.
She forces herself to inhale. Slowly.
Again.
"McKay, I..."
Cassie's expression softens. "You're her mom now." She reaches gently for the thermometer. "Do what moms do. I'll do the doctor part."
The words settle somewhere deep inside Trinity.Without another protest, she nods.
She carefully peels Lily out of the suit and wraps her in the familiar hospital blanket, brushing a thumb over flushed cheeks that seem impossibly warm.
Lily's tiny fingers curl instinctively around Trinity's index finger. The grip is surprisingly strong, almost tugging her closer.
Trinity feels her throat tighten. "I'm here."
She bends low enough that their foreheads almost touch. "We're going to make the pain stop."
Victoria quietly slips into the room behind them, setting down the diaper bag, bottles, emergency kit, and infant carrier with obvious care.
"The temperature was 101 about thirty minutes ago."
"101?!" Trinity immediately regrets the tone. Lily startles.
"I'm sorry," Trinity whispers, smoothing tiny curls back again. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."
Inside, panic churns so violently she can barely think.
How does a fever rise that quickly?
How long had Lily been hurting before anyone noticed?
Cassie reaches over, checking the temperatureagain. "101 point two."
She turns toward Trinity with the same calm, reassuring expression she wears with every frightened parent in the department.
"We're going to treat the fever first." Then she smiles gently. "And then we'll take a careful look at her ear."
Trinity nods.
She has stood beside this bassinet countless times while comforting anxious parents.
But until now she has never fully understood how impossible it is to think rationally when the child lying in front of you belongs to you.
Lily squirms restlessly beneath the blanket, letting out another unhappy little cry before rooting instinctively toward Trinity's voice.
Without thinking, Trinity slips one finger into her tiny hand again. "There you are."
Lily's crying eases for all of three seconds before another wave of discomfort overtakes her.
Her little forehead wrinkles and her lower lip trembles. Trinity strokes her cheek with heartbreaking gentleness.
"I know."
"I know, baby."
Cassie gives them both one last reassuring look before stepping out.
Silence settles over the room for a long moment until Victoria finally speaks again.
"I'm really sorry, Trin." Trinity keeps watching Lily. "She was just fussy."
Victoria twists her hands together in her lap. "She wasn't warm at all the last time I checked."
Trinity swallows hard, then forces herself to look over. "It's okay."
"She was happy before." Victoria smiles weakly. "A huge fan of my animal impressions."
Despite everything, the image appears instantly in Trinity's mind. A reluctant laugh escapes before another cry immediately pulls her attention back.
She lifts Lily carefully against her chest.
The baby's crying softens again almost immediately. "There you go." Trinity rocks gently from side to side. "You're not alone."
The next knock at the door is quiet. Baran steps inside with Princess close behind her.
"I reassigned your patient load," Baran says matter-of-factly, before her expression softens.
"How is our little angel doing?"
Princess raises a small medication cup. "I've got something for the fever."
Reluctantly, Trinity kisses Lily's forehead before laying her back into the bassinet.
Moving away from the bedside feels almost physically painful.
She sinks into the chair beside Victoria, though her eyes never leave Lily for more than a heartbeat.
Every tiny flinch and cry.
Every careful touch Princess uses while administering the medication.
Gradually, minute by minute, the crying begins losing its edge.
Lily still whimpers, but the desperate wailing fades.
Trinity finally lets herself lean sideways until her shoulder rests lightly against Victoria's.
"...Fuck."
Victoria's voice immediately crumples. "I'm sorry."
Trinity shakes her head. "No." She exhales slowly. "You did everything right."
A tired smile finally appears.
"Even the car seat. It took me weeks to figure that shit out."
Victoria laughs through obvious relief, Trinity nudges her shoulder gently. "You really are a genius."
"Dr. Santos." Trinity sits upright immediately. "The ear canal is significantly inflamed." Baran speaks with her usual measured calm.
"We cleaned the drainage as thoroughly as we safely could and applied a soothing treatment."
Trinity nods, absorbing every word.
"We'll continue monitoring over the next few hours while the medication has a chance to work."
"Okay." The breath she releases feels impossibly heavy.
"I've already marked you off for the remainder of your shift."
Ordinarily, Trinity would protest. Today, the idea of leaving this room for anything short of the world ending feels impossible.
Maybe that makes her a terrible doctor, but she'll think about that later.
"Thank you, Dr. Al-Hashimi." Baran tilts her head.
When Trinity looks back toward the bassinet, Lily's eyelids are already beginning to droop.
Barans gaze settles warmly on Trinity. "Call me if you need absolutely anything."
Trinity nods. Then she quietly pulls her chair even closer to the bassinet and reaches through the rails to let Lily wrap tiny fingers around hers once more.
Emery approaches Yolanda just as she finally steps out of the operating room, her expression unusually cautious.
"Don't shoot the messenger," she says.
Yolanda stops walking so abruptly that a nurse following her only barely manages to dodge her.
Every muscle in her body tightens. "What happened?"
"Your wife paged me." Emery keeps a respectful distance, like she's approaching a skittish animal. "About three hours ago."
Yolanda is already moving before Emery finishes the sentence. She heads straight for the elevators, hearing footsteps hurry after her.
"What for?"
The stainless-steel doors slide open with a soft chime. Emery hesitates for half a heartbeat before Yolanda catches the edge of the door with one hand and silently motions her inside.
"Junior VIP patient," Emery says as the doors close. "Ear infection. A very frazzled-looking Javadi in tow."
Javadi.
Oh fuck.
Yolanda's hand curls into a fist inside the pocket of her scrub pants until her fingernails bite into her palm.
"Hm." It is all she trusts herself to say.
"Peds," Emery adds quietly. The elevator descends in silence after that.
Yolanda stares at the glowing floor numbers without seeing them.
An ear infection.
That is manageable.
Children have ear infections all the time.
It doesnt stop the part of her brain that had already imagined far worse before Emery had spoken the first sentence.
Before Lily, she had always believed fear was something that could be compartmentalized, analyzed, managed with enough information and enough preparation.
Now it overwhelms her all at once, unconcerned with evidence or probability. She hates how powerless it makes her feel.
The elevator doors open. Yolanda steps out immediately.
"My shift's over anyway," she says over her shoulder. "Tell Dr. Shamsi I'm leaving?"
Emery nods without hesitation. "Of course." There is something almost unbearably sympathetic in her expression.
Yolanda suppresses a sigh.
Having a child had apparently not only softened her from the inside out; it had convinced everyone around her that she required handling with extraordinary care.
Its deeply irritating. It is also, if she is being honest with herself, strangely comforting.
She pushes through the doors into the emergency department just as the evening handover is underway.
Some of the conversations falter as more eyes than she would like lift toward her.
Yolanda pretends not to notice any of it, instead walking straight toward Peds.
When she reaches the room, the lights have been dimmed until only a single lamp glows softly in one corner.
She slips inside and almost collides with Victoria, who is trying to sneak out.
"Oh—shit." Victoria startles. "Sorry."
She immediately lowers her voice again and points over her shoulder.
"McKay helped me drag that in." Yolanda follows the gesture. "They're... napping, I think."
"I've got it now." Yolanda gives her a small nod. "You can go home."
Victoria hesitates. Guilt flickers across her face so openly that Yolanda almost reaches out to reassure her. Instead, she chooses something simpler.
"Thank you." Victoria blinks. "For looking after her today."
Relief softens the younger woman's shoulders.
"...Yeah." She smiles weakly. "See you."
Yolanda waits until the door clicks shut behind her before allowing herself a long, slow breath.
As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she notices that someone has wheeled an ordinary hospital bed in beside the bassinet.
Trinity is leaned against the raised headboard, somewhere between sitting and lying down.
Lily is asleep on her chest, wrapped securely in one of the hospital blankets.
The baby's cheek is pressed beneath Trinity's chin. One impossibly small fist still rests against her mother's scrub top.
Trinity looks up as the door closes.
"Hey." Her voice is barely above a whisper. She sounds exhausted.
"Thanks for coming." Yolanda's brow furrows as she crosses the room. "Of course." Where else would she possibly be?
She sets her pager on the bedside table before carefully climbing onto the mattress beside them, moving slowly enough not to disturb the sleeping little girl nestled between them.
The hospital bed is far too narrow for three people, bu they make it work anyway.
Trinity shifts instinctively, creating just enough room.
Yolanda slides in beside her, wrapping one arm carefully around Trinity's shoulders before letting her other hand settle gently over the blanket covering Lily's tiny back.
Small breath movments under her palm are the best thing she's ever felt. Almost unconsciously, Trinity leans into her. Yolanda kisses her temple. Then her hair.
Then she simply rests her forehead against the side of Trinity's head. Neither of them speaks for several long moments.
Eventually Trinity exhales. "The fever's down." She smiles faintly without lifting her head.
"Ninety-eight now."
Yolanda closes her eyes. Thank God.
"McKay thinks they'll let us go in another two hours if everything stays stable."
"Good." The word comes out softer than she intends.
"Lily's been sleeping for almost forty-five minutes." Trinity strokes tiny curls with one finger. "They said the antibiotics should start helping overnight."
Yolanda nods against her shoulder. "Good." She says it again because she cannot seem to find another word.
Only then does she really look at her wife. Dark circles have settled beneath Trinity's eyes. Her hair is flattened where she'd spent hours against the hospital pillow.
Her scrub top is wrinkled from holding a feverish toddler against her chest for most of the afternoon.
Even now, long after the crisis has passed, there is still a faint tremor hiding in the hand resting protectively over Lily.
She reaches up and gently brushes a loose strand of hair away from Trinity's face. "You've been crying."
Trinity gives a tiny, humorless laugh. "A little."
"A little?"
"I was trying not to."
Yolanda smiles sadly. "I can tell."
Trinity's shoulders sag another fraction, the admission seeming to cost her the last of whatever determination had been holding her upright all afternoon. "I was so scared."
Yolanda's chest aches.
She tightens her arm around both of them, drawing Trinity carefully against her until their foreheads rest together above Lily's sleeping head.
"So was I." The confession surprises even herself.
Trinity looks up. "You were?"
"I spent an entire elevator ride convincing myself that nothing catastrophic had happened."
She lets out a small breath that almost becomes a laugh. "It wasn't a very convincing argument."
Trinity's eyes soften immediately. Her free hand finds Yolanda's where it rests over the blanket, threading their fingers together.
"You know," she murmurs, "for someone with such an intimidating reputation..." Yolanda raises one eyebrow. "...you've become unbelievably soft."
"I have not."
"Mhm." Trinity smiles sleepily. "You have."
"You're still terrifying the interns. Of course." She squeezes Yolanda's hand. "And you also kissed our daughter good morning and made sure she had her favourite stuffed elephant."
Yolanda feels warmth creep into her cheeks. Where is Ellie? She doesnt see her anywhere close.
"I contain multitudes." She replies, defiant.
"You do." Trinity laughs quietly. "I love every single one of them."
Yolanda lowers another kiss into Trinity's hair before letting her gaze drift to the tiny face sleeping peacefully between them.
Trinity probably doesn't mean to fall asleep.
One moment she's answering Yolanda in slow, sleepy murmurs, her fingers still loosely intertwined with hers. The next, her breathing evens out, her head getting heavier where it rests against Yolanda's shoulder.
Yolanda smiles to herself. She watches her for a long moment.
Then, carefully, so carefully, Yolanda brushes her cheek over dried tear streaks.
"My brave girls," she whispers, too quietly for anyone to hear. She wishes she could protect Trinity from every frightening thing in the world.
Since becoming parents, she has realized that feeling extends to both of them now, stretching her heart in ways she never imagined possible.
Glancing down, she notices Lily stirring.
The little girl wrinkles her nose in her sleep, tiny hands flexing against Trinity's scrub top before a small, unhappy whimper escapes her.
"Easy, love." Yolanda waits another few seconds, watching for the familiar signs that she might wake properly.
Instead, Lily squirms again.
Without disturbing Trinity, Yolanda slowly slides one arm beneath the baby's back and the other beneath her bottom.
The transfer is almost surgical in its precision.
Lily lets out a tiny complaint as she leaves her mother's warmth, but before the cry can gather strength, Yolanda settles her against her own chest instead.
"There you are." She rocks almost imperceptibly.
For a few moments, it seems to work, then another restless little sound escapes Lily.
Yolanda's eyes drift thoughtfully toward the ceiling. "...Of course."
She smiles to herself before, reaching carefully for her pager. She types a short message.
Need a favour. My locker. Top shelf.
Barely ten minutes pass before the door opens just enough for Emery to slip inside.
She takes one look at the sleeping Trinity, the drowsy baby on Yolanda's chest, and instinctively lowers her voice.
"I cannot believe youre making me do this."
Yolanda ignores her and holds out one hand expectantly. Emery sighs with resignation before producing a stuffed elephant from behind her back.
It is not as well-loved as the original, (that hopefully is not lost but simply forgotten at home by Javadi)
Yolanda privately calls her Emergency-Ellie. She goes anywhere Yolanda goes, just in case.
Lily will never know there are multiple.
Emery catches sight of the scene in front of her, then quietly fishes out her phone.
"Don't you dare."
"Absolutely." Before Yolanda can protest further, the camera makes the faintest click.
"There." Emery grins. "For the family album."
Rolling her eyes, Yolanda shoos her away. "Thank you." Emery rolls her eyes and slips back toward the hallway.
Yolanda nestles Emergency Ellie beside Lily's cheek. Almost instantly, tiny fingers find the worn plush ear.
Lily gives a sleepy sigh, nuzzling her face into the elephant before pressing herself more firmly against Yolanda's chest.
The little lines of discomfort disappear from her forehead. Within moments, her breathing settles into the rhythm of deep sleep.
Yolanda lets out long breath.
She rests her cheek lightly against Trinity's hair and allows herself, for the first time all day, to simply exist inside the quiet.