Chapter Text
Robby was pulling a box of rice from the cabinet when he heard a knock at the door.
It was so light he nearly missed it, recognition lagging a half second behind the sound. He glanced at the clock on the stove.
10:00 p.m.
Late for a delivery. Those usually came with an unceremonious ring of the doorbell or just dropped on the step, abandoned entirely.
He walked to the door, turned the deadbolt, and pulled it open. A wave of cold air swept inside.
Victoria stood on his front step, arms wrapped around herself, hair plastered to her face by melted snow. Her coat was thin. Inadequate. Her breath fogged in quick, uneven bursts.
“Javadi?”
Her mouth opened and closed once. Then she shook her head.
“I—sorry. I shouldn’t be here,” she said, words tumbling. “I don’t know what I was thinking. This is so inappropriate.”
Robby didn’t speak yet. He just stared at her, her presence too out of place to look away.
She started to back up.
“I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “I’m just going to go.”
Robby reached over and flicked on the porch light.
She froze on the spot.
The yellow glow filled in the details all at once.
The split on her left cheek was small but unmistakable—just wide enough to bleed. A welt was already blooming beneath it, the skin broken, the shape wrong. Too specific and familiar.
Robby’s gaze shifted past her, down the empty street.
No cars. No movement. Just footprints in the thin layer of snow crusting the pavement.
“Did you walk here?” he asked.
Victoria faltered.
“It’s not—” She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m just going to leave.”
She still didn’t move. Just stood there, rooted to the spot.
Robby carefully stepped one foot onto the porch. The cold of the frozen cement cut straight through his sock.
She wasn’t even shivering.
“Okay,” Robby said, nodding, taking another small step toward her.
“I’m leaving,” she repeated, unmoving.
“Yep,” he replied quietly, focusing on reaching for her without startling her.
He placed just his fingertips on her shoulders—barely there—and tested guiding her forward with the lightest pressure.
“Come on,” he said gently.
She shuffled toward him.
“There you go.”
He ushered her back through the doorway, nudged it shut behind them, and kept his hand steady as he guided her toward the couch. Beneath his fingers, the fabric of her jacket was completely soaked through.
“I had it,” she started, brow furrowing. “When I left–I did. I had it when I left and—”
He carefully unzipped her jacket and eased it off her small frame.
“Oh—okay,” she said distantly, muscle memory alone prompting her to pull her arms free of the sleeves.
“My phone,” she resumed, the clarification sounding like it fixed something.
He sat her down on the couch and waited until her weight fully settled, like he didn’t quite trust gravity with her yet.
“I didn’t drop it. I don’t think I dropped it. I would’ve felt that.”
He pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her shoulders. He took her wrist in his hand—pulse weak and quick. Skin mottled and cold. Nail beds tinged dark violet. He tucked her hand back beneath the blanket.
“I was going to text Trinity and Dennis,” she went on, words slipping over each other now. “I just need to text them, then—then I can go.”
Robby walked to the closet, pausing to turn the dial of the thermostat before returning with two more blankets. He draped one over her shoulders, tucked the other around her legs.
“I was outside and I didn’t have my phone and I couldn’t remember where they lived. I only know where you live, which is—” she stopped abruptly, letting out a nervous laugh. “That’s weird, right? But the Christmas party was here, and I know the park here, so—”
Robby crouched in front of her.
“Hey,” he cut in gently. “Look at me for a second.”
She blinked, clearly surprised to find him there.
“Hi,” she said.
“Follow my finger.”
He moved it in clean lines through her field of vision. Her eyes tracked, corner to corner.
He pulled out his phone.
“Oh!” she said when she saw it. “Can I text Trinity?”
“In one second,” he placated, turning on the flashlight. “Look right here.”
He checked each eye, watching her pupils constrict.
A shiver ran through her. Then another. Her teeth began to chatter, the tremors building.
“There it is,” he murmured, his shoulders finally loosening.
“’S cold,” she said.
“Yeah, I bet,” he replied, his gaze flicking to her cheek. He studied the split there. “What happened to your face?”
“My—my face?”
He slowly reached out, gently examining it. He expected her to flinch as he pressed, but she just sat there, question in her eyes.
“Any headache?” he asked, carefully checking the rest of her head.
“I don’t feel, uh…much.”
“Can you tell me your name?”
She looked at him, puzzled that he’d forgotten. “Victoria. Javadi.”
“Good. Where are you right now?”
“Your house,” she said. “Which—which I shouldn’t be, and I—”
“What day is it?”
“It’s…night.”
“Okay. And what brought you here, Javadi?”
She blinked. Her eyes cleared just a little.
“My parents said to leave,” she said quietly. “And I don’t remember where Trinity and Dennis live.”
“Alright,” he said gently. “I’m going to call Trinity while you warm up. Does that sound alright?”
She nodded.
“Sit tight.”
He stepped into the kitchen, keeping her in sight as he pulled up Trinity’s contact.
“Robby?” Trinity answered on the second ring, her voice tilted with suspicion.
“Hi, Santos,” he said, rubbing a hand down his face. “Javadi needs somewhere to sleep tonight. Can she stay with you?”
“What?” Trinity said. “I mean—yes, obviously, but what the fuck? Is she okay?”
“She’s alright. I think she had a fight with her parents.”
“Shit,” she replied. “I can come pick her up. Are you still at the hospital?”
“No. My house.”
There was a pause.
“I’m sorry,” Trinity laughed. “Where? Because you sure as shit did not just say your house.”
Robby sighed.
“She showed up hypothermic and confused. She’s got bruising on her face. Lost her phone. Said she was trying to find your place.”
“Oh. Fuck,” Trinity said. “Okay. Yeah. Whitaker and I are on our way. Same address as the Christmas thing?”
“Yep. Bring a change of dry clothes.”
“Got it. We’ll be there in fifteen.”
Robby peeked into the living room.
Victoria was right where he left her, shivering so hard he could feel it in his own teeth.
“How are you feeling?”
“O-okay,” she said, the word breaking apart as her jaw trembled.
“That’s a start,” he replied. “I’m going to make tea. Get you warmed up some more.”
He filled a mug with the warm water, throwing in a bag of peppermint tea. He grabbed the bottle of Tylenol and the first aid kid from the cabinet and returned to the living room.
“Think you can hold onto this?” He asked, holding the mug toward her.
She gave a nod. She shifted to extract her hands and a small, involuntary sound escaped her throat as she moved. Every inch of her burned as sensation returned.
“I’ll give you something for the pain in just a second.”
She made an effort to extend her fingers. He pressed the mug into her hands, arranging her grip.
She whimpered, her whole body tensing.
“Got it?” He asked as he carefully started to let go of the mug.
She nodded, sipping from it with shaking hands.
He poured out two pills.
“This is just acetaminophen,” he said. “It’ll help with the muscle pain while you warm up.”
“Okay.” She took them gratefully.
He waited until she swallowed, taking the mug as she handed it back to him.
“Your cheek’s still bleeding a little,” he said. “I want to clean it and put a strip on it. Is that alright?”
She hesitated, then nodded again.
“O-okay.”
She went still as he started to clean the wound.
“I slipped on the way here,” she said.
Robby didn’t look up right away. He worked carefully, methodically. He let a moment pass before speaking.
“You know why doctors improve with experience?” he asked.
“Practice?” she offered.
“Pattern recognition.”
Her shoulders tightened under the blankets.
“You see the same thing enough times,” he continued evenly, “it becomes easier to spot.”
“Well,” she said after a beat, “there are zebras, too.”
“Sure,” he agreed. “Every once in a while.” He glanced toward the bathroom. “Did you get a chance to look in the mirror before you left home?”
“No, I didn’t—” she stopped herself, jaw tightening. “I fell after I left. Ice.”
“Okay.” He set the pad aside. “Can I tell you what I see?”
She didn’t answer.
Robby’s eyes flicked up to hers—just long enough to check she was still there—before returning to her cheek.
“I see a handprint on your left cheek,” he said quietly. “Thumb here, under your eye. And the setting of a wedding ring, right above your jaw.”
Her breath quickened against his forearm, shallow and uneven.
“And I’ve seen the scrub nurses set up a left-handed OR when your mother operates.”
She tore away from him.
Robby let her go immediately, palms open and visible.
“I can—” her voice caught. “I should go. Thank you.”
“Javadi—”
She was already fighting the blankets, movements jerky and poorly coordinated, her body not entirely thawed.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said, breathless. “I’m sorry.”
She pushed herself up on numb legs.
“Don’t—” Robby reached for her.
Her knees couldn’t hold her weight.
Robby’s hand shot out, catching her without effort as she pitched forward. She tried to shove him away as he guided her back down, hands scrabbling uselessly against his sleeve. He let her go as soon as she was safely seated.
“Alright,” he said, stepping back three full paces. “Easy.”
She pressed herself into the corner of the couch, eyes wide, breathing fast.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said quietly.
“Okay,” Robby said, slowly crouching down. “Maybe I don’t.” He kept his voice level. “Maybe you can tell me.”
“It’s not like that,” she said quickly. “You don’t understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t. That’s why I’m concerned.”
“You don’t have to be. I’m not a child. I’m 21 years old.”
“I know you’re an adult. It’s still not okay for your mother to hurt you.”
“I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew she was angry and I didn’t stop. I pushed her on purpose.”
“No matter what you said—”
“I deserved it.”
“Javadi, listen to yourself,” Robby pleaded. “No one deserves to be abused.”
She laughed.
“It’s not abuse. I told you, it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s discipline. It’s—it’s a cultural thing. And it’s usually not this bad.”
“Usually?”
She stalled, mouth open but soundless.
Her breathing started to come quicker. Her chest began to heave.
“I don’t—I don’t want to talk about this anymore—I don’t—”
“Okay, we can be done.”
“I don’t want to—I can’t—”
“Javadi.”
He waited until her eyes landed on him.
“We can stop,” he said evenly. “Conversation’s done. Deep breath.”
Her shoulders rose and fell with an exaggerated breath.
He gave her a moment to steady herself, for the panicked glint to leave her eyes.
“Is it okay if we get these blankets back on you?” he asked.
Victoria looked at the pile of blankets next to her. She seemed to realize that she was still plastered to the far end of the couch, sprawled and wild, and settled onto the cushion.
She nodded.
He stood and approached, movements slow and deliberate. One by one, he laid the blankets back over her and pressed the mug back into her hands.
There was a knock at the door.
Victoria flinched hard.
“It’s okay,” he said gently. “I’ll be right back.”
Robby pulled open the door. Trinity and Dennis stood there, bundled against the cold, eyes already searching his face.
He stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind him enough that just a sliver of light sliced over the concrete.
“What happened?”
“She walked here,” Robby said quietly. “Unknown exposure time. Altered on arrival. A&O times three initially.”
“Is she hurt?” Whitaker asked.
Robby rubbed over his brow. “Two-centimeter laceration to the left cheek. Bruising. Neuro’s intact… She says she fell on ice.”
“And the wound’s not consistent with a fall,” Trinity guessed.
“No,” he shook his head. “It didn’t feel appropriate to push any further exam here,” he said carefully. “So if you could—”
“Yep,” Trinity said immediately. “I’ve got it.”
Robby exhaled once, then pushed the door fully open.
The three of them stepped back inside.
Victoria looked up when the door opened.
For a second, her expression was blank—like she was trying to place them. Then her eyes widened.
“Hey, crash,” Trinity said gently, sitting on the other end of the couch, back against the armrest.
“How are you doing?” Whitaker asked.
Victoria blinked, still catching up to their arrival.
“I was going to text you guys,” she said. “I lost my phone.”
“We know,” Trinity replied easily. “That’s why we’re here to pick you up.”
Victoria glanced between Trinity and Dennis, then landed on Robby.
“Did you—” she hesitated. “Did you call them?”
“Yes,” he said. “You asked me to.”
A nervous laugh.
“Oh. Right,” she covered. “Yeah.”
The three doctors studied her, varying levels of concern peeking through their expression. The silence stretched.
“I’m—I’m fine,” Victoria said suddenly.
Trinity pulled the bag from her shoulder.
“I brought some dry clothes for you,” she said, placing the duffel on the cushion. “You want to change? Bathroom’s right there.”
Victoria shifted, suddenly aware of how her wet clothes clung to her skin.
She nodded. Trinity took the mug from her hands and placed it on the coffee table, then stood and held out her hands.
“Heavy assist,” Robby murmured, just for Trinity’s ears.
Trinity adjusted without a word—one step closer, body angling in, her arm sliding around Victoria’s back instead of just her shoulder.
Victoria pushed herself up, wobbling as soon as her feet found the floor.
Trinity absorbed the weight without comment, feet widening a fraction to steady them both.
“Alright, Bambi,” she said lightly. “Nice and slow.”
Victoria moved stiffly, effort visible in every step.
Robby and Whitaker hovered nearby, close enough to intervene if they had to. They watched until she reached the hallway and disappeared around the corner.
The click of a light switch.
A beat of silence.
Then the sound—raw, uncontained. A sob that broke loose all at once.
Robby and Whitaker both went rigid.
“Oh—” Trinity’s voice carried just far enough as she followed her into the bathroom. “Oh, crash…”
The door clicked shut, sealing the sound inside.
“That’d be the mirror,” Robby murmured.
“Jesus,” Dennis looked down, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. “My parents…”
He stopped himself.
Robby tilted his head, the weight of his gaze coaxing Dennis to continue.
“They never… you know…” Dennis vaguely gestured to his cheek. “Never my face.”
Robby stilled. The way his brow pinched with pity made Dennis wave him off.
“No, it’s just…” Dennis began, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. “It was normal to me then. But once I was away long enough, and I got a little older, it stopped feeling so normal.”
Robby just nodded.
“I hope that one day, it doesn’t feel, you know… normal to her,” Dennis finished quietly.
Robby took a slow breath, looking at the closed bathroom door and back at Dennis.
“Me too, Whitaker.”
————-
The bathroom light blazing overhead was far too honest.
Trinity held Victoria, turning her away from the mirror. She shivered in her arms between sobs until she didn’t have anything left.
Victoria’s knees were too weak, her weight dragging her down.
“Okay, come on,” Trinity said quietly, guiding her one step to the side and carefully lowering her onto the toilet. She dropped the duffel bag from her shoulder and squatted down. “Think we can get you changed?”
Victoria nodded.
“Alright,” Trinity said, unzipping the bag and pulling out a shirt. “Arms up.”
Victoria obeyed without comment, letting Trinity peel off her wet sweater.
She worked methodically until Victoria was dressed in clothes that smelled like unfamiliar detergent. They hung loose on her frame. The long sleeved shirt was grey and soft. Trinity had to cinch the drawstring of the sweatpants as tight as it could go to keep them on Victoria’s hips.
“There,” Trinity said, tugging the bottom hem of the shirt down. “Done.”
She faced her as she sat on the bathmat at Victoria’s feet. She crossed her legs and got comfortable, leaning back against the wall.
“Sorry,” Victoria choked out, wiping her eyes. She winced as she passed over the bruising, finally warm enough to feel it. “I’m—this is so stupid. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing stupid about it,” Trinity shook her head.
“I don’t even know why I came here.”
“Because it’s safe here. And home isn’t.”
Victoria swallowed hard. “Home is safe,” she denied weakly.
Trinity let out a small sigh. “Never play poker, okay?”
Victoria’s eyes flicked to the floor.
“Look, I’m not going to pretend I know exactly what you’re going through. But I know you gotta get out of there.”
“They just want what’s best for me. This isn’t, like, all the time. They’re—they’re good parents.”
“Javadi.”
“Really! And they’re good people. I mean, they save lives and-and donate to charity. They love me.”
Trinity took a deep breath.
“All of that might be true—you still need to get out of there.”
“I can’t just leave.”
“You can, actually.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I never said it was simple,” Trinity replied. “But you can leave.”
“I can’t betray them like that.”
“Betray them? Most people move out at 18. They don’t expect you to live with them forever, right?”
“They’d cut me off.”
“You can sleep on my pull out until you find a place.”
“How am I going to pay for a place?”
“You’ve never even heard of a student loan, have you?”
Victoria paused.
“You can use those for rent?” she asked.
“Jesus, we grew up in very different tax brackets,” Trinity muttered. “Yes, you can use them for rent. And food. You’re on a full ride for tuition, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Perfect. You won’t even have to take out that much.”
“This is insane.” Victoria shook her head.
“You said you’re tired of people treating you like a kid, right?”
“I guess.”
Trinity leaned forward, lowering her voice.
“Even when they’re not hitting you—they are suffocating you, Javadi. Don’t you want some freedom?”
“I’ve—” Victoria stopped, her eyebrows furrowed. Her lip trembled. “I’ve never even thought about what I want,” she said quietly, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“Well, it’s time to start, Crash,” Trinity said with a budding smile. She tore off a few squares of toilet paper from the dispenser next to her and handed them over.
Victoria gave a grateful nod as she used them to carefully dab at her eyes.
“Start tonight, on my couch,” Trinity offered. “And we’ll go from there. Okay?”
“Okay,” Victoria replied.
“Good talk.” Trinity slapped her hands on her knees as she moved to get a closer look at Victoria's cheek. “Let me check Robby’s handiwork real quick and then we can head out.”
Victoria pressed her eyes shut at the mention of leaving. “Oh god, I don’t want to go back out there. I really should not have come here, of all places.”
“Better to come here than freeze to death in some snowbank,” Trinity murmured, carefully adjusting Victoria's chin to get a better look.
“Dr. Robby’s never going to look at me the same,” Victoria murmured.
Trinity hummed. “One time, I freaked out during a peds sexual abuse case and—well, now he knows way too much about me.”
“Oh,” Victoria said quietly.
“And harasses me every Wednesday about going to my trauma counselor appointment, but… He’s a good one to have in your corner,” she replied. “He’ll definitely hit you with those big brown pity eyes for a while, though.”
Victoria sucked in a sharp breath as Trinity passed over the bruising.
“Sorry,” Trinity said as she withdrew. “Lac looks good. Well approximated. Once you’re not a popsicle, we’ll put some ice on it.”
“Thanks, Trinity,” Victoria said, suddenly wrapping her arms around her.
Trinity went rigid for a moment before accepting the hug.
“Anytime, Crash.”