𝔢𝔪𝔪𝔞☆

“Did I do something to upset you?” Dennis snaps as Trinity pulls the car into a parking spot. 

“Nope,” Trinity responds in a markedly upset manner, reaching for her bag from the back seat. “Everything’s great.”

“Right, obviously.” Dennis slams the car door a little harder than necessary. He’s said or done a host of things in the past twelve hours that could have caused this reaction, but he knows the most likely.

Robby has been postponing his sabbatical for weeks now, after an intervention involving almost half the hospital staff forced him to get psychiatric help. But now, after being cleared, and encouraged, by his therapist, he’s re-planning his trip for some needed time away from the emergency department. 

And he’s asked Dennis to house-sit for him again.

Dennis had broken the news to Trinity in their apartment while cleaning up after dinner, figuring it would be easier if Trinity didn’t have the excuse of needing to check in with a patient to escape the conversation. He’d quickly explained to her that he had no intentions of moving out. He could check on Robby’s house, water his plants, and take in his mail easily before their shifts start instead of staying full-time at the man’s house.

“So you expect me to drive thirty minutes of my way every morning before shift, just so you can play house with him?” She’d argued, punctuated by a hard slam of a cupboard door. The conversation had only derailed from there. 

They manoeuvre through the hospital’s entrance and crowded waiting room in silence, and Dennis fights the urge to break it. Trinity’s clearly not wanting to talk, and no amount of attempts will change that. He was trying not to take it personally, knew that it was her own aversions that caused her to deflect and isolate herself from everyone else, but the silent treatment was becoming frustrating.

Trinity stuffs her belongings in her locker, her shoulders tense and expression stern as stalks out of the locker room. Releasing a sigh, Dennis ditches his things into his own locker while opting to give her some space for the time being. He finds his way to the nurses station, the chaos of the emergency department as grating as always with a clash of too many sounds and too many people. He breathes in the familiar scent of antiseptic and something else distinctly rubbery.

“How are you doing, kid?” Dana greets him as he eyes the board for his first patient. 

“Good, thanks.” He offers her what’s likely an unconvincing smile and she stares at him knowingly but doesn’t question him, for which he’s grateful. 

“There’s a thirty-two-year-old woman with dizziness and nausea waiting in room 12.”

“Thanks, Dana.” He heads over, trying to clear his mind and immerse himself fully into work. Though he has a prickling feeling that this was going to be a long shift.

☆ ☆ ☆

The first two hours of the day pass by in a blur of patients and charting. Trinity’s still avoiding him like the plague, quickly ducking into rooms or behind curtains whenever she catches sight of him and he sighs miserably at his work station.

“Doing okay, kid?” Dana asks as she jots something down on a post-it note.

“Yeah. Long shift.”

“It’s only just begun,” she notes grimly, sticking the note to a computer screen. “Robby was looking for you.” 

“Whitaker!” 

“Speak of the devil,” she mutters.

Dennis’s pulse speeds up at the sound of Robby’s voice, an involuntary heat spreading up his neck when he turns to find the man a few feet away. He’s wearing his usual worn jacket over his scrubs, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his toned forearms, the dark hair there giving him a more masculine, rugged appearance and Dennis quickly dispels the thought before he ends up having to readjust himself in his scrubs. 

Abbot stands beside him, along with a man he’s never met before, and Robby gestures for Dennis to join them. 

“Dr. Abbot, you’re still here?”

Abbot offers Dennis a small nod in greeting. “I switched to the day shift for today to help out our friend here.” He turns to the other man who’s at least six foot, with broad shoulders, coarse stubble, and salt and pepper hair that betrays his age. Around fifty, a similar age to Robby and Abbot, if Dennis had to guess.

“Meet Ethan Miller,” Abbot continues, “we served two tours together back in the day.” He jostles Ethan’s shoulder and gives him a familiar smile which Ethan reciprocates with a playful grin.

“Oh. It’s nice to meet you.” Dennis offers his hand for Ethan to shake, noticing the firm grip, bordering on too firm, and the rough callouses that scratch Dennis skin. He has a stereotypically weathered look that Dennis would expect from someone with a military background.

Ethan winces as he shakes Dennis’s hand. “And it’s nice to meet you too, doc. Jack here likes to fret, so I wouldn’t worry too much over nothing but a bad hangover.”

“It’s better to run some tests to rule out anything more serious,” Abbot says in a pointed manner that suggests they’ve had this conversation more than once.

“We have a few residents here that have spent time at the VA,” Robby cuts in, “but they’re busy with patients so we’ll be leaving you in the care of one of our finest, Dr. Whitaker here.” 

He places a hand on Dennis’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and for a moment Dennis can’t think about much other than the point of contact and the warmth of his hand. He’s too embarrassed to admit how many times he’s fantasized about that hand, and where exactly he’s pictured it.

“Oh, I don’t–” 

“He’s modest,” Robby interrupts with a smile, the corner of his eyes crinkling charmingly. “Miller is in today for lower abdominal pain and nausea, so we’re going to order a CT scan to check for appendicitis.”

“Not necessary,” Ethan grumbles. “Just give me some Advil and send me home.”

“Pills and drinking won’t solve all your problems, Miller,” Abbot argues.

“Is this about how I still won’t see a shrink?” 

“That’s another fight for another day. I’ll show you to a room then we’ll get you up to CT.” The two men leave, Ethan trailing behind with a noticeable limp, and Dennis makes to do the same when Robby’s hand falls on his shoulder again, pulling him to a stop.

“Ah ah, hold it right there.” He leans closer to Dennis, his eyes scrutinising and searching Dennis’s face in a way that makes him shiver. “You alright? You seem… tense.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He fidgets absently with his badge. 

Robby nods at him, clearly not convinced, but he lets go of Dennis regardless. Dennis can feel his heart in his throat as he walks away, his skin still burning where Robby had touched him, and he can’t help the flush that creeps up his neck. 

Today was going to be a very long shift.

☆ ☆ ☆

It’s during his search for Robby with Ethan’s CT results that Dennis finally manages to corner Trinity at her work station an hour later. Her eyes roll back as she catches sight of him and she stops her charting to swivel in her chair and stare him down with maximum intimidation. 

“What is it, Fuckleberry?”

He bristles at the nickname but tamps down his irritation. He figures any attempts to make amends will be shot down, so he starts with a more practical route. “I was wondering if you could take over one of my patients. Robby’s asked me to help with one of his veteran friends–”

She interrupts him with a scoff. “Right, Robby. Why am I not surprised?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know damn well, Fuckleberry. Whatever, I’ll take your patient.” She waves a dismissive hand at him, turning back to her computer.

“How long are you going to ignore me?”

“As long as it takes.” 

Conversation obviously over. Dennis takes the hint and leaves, returning to his search for Robby with another miserable sigh. He finds the man at the nurse’s station chatting to Dana and he traipses over to the pair. 

“Uh, Dr. Robby? Ethan’s CT results are back.” 

“Great,” Robby praises, and it sends a flash of pride, and something else, through Dennis’s chest. “Show me.” He follows Dennis to a computer and watches as Dennis swipes his badge and brings up Ethan’s chart. 

“Looks like appendicitis,” Dennis observes. Robby scans the images himself.

“I agree.” He looks up at Dennis with a smile. “Great work, kid. We’ll get him prepped and send him up to surgery. Why don’t you go let him know while I find Abbot and fill him in.”

“Sure thing.”

Robby seemingly hesitates for a moment, turning back to Dennis. He leans in closer, like how he usually does during their conversations. In that personal way that makes it feel like they’re the only two people in the entire department. “About the house-sitting thing.”

“Oh.” Dennis feels his stomach bottom out.

“You know you don’t have to do it, right? I can find someone else.”

“No! I mean, I can do it–”

“Everytime I bring it up you go all tense and frown.” He points at Dennis’s face, leaning even closer. “Like that.”

Dennis flushes, fidgeting nervously with his badge again. “It’s just, things are weird at the moment. With me and Santos.”

“Oh,” Robby looks surprised. “She doesn’t want you to house-sit?”

“No. Well, maybe no. I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”

Robby leans back, contemplating. “I’m sorry if I’ve made things awkward. I thought I was doing her a favour.”

“A favour?”

“By taking your mind off the whole Amy thing.”

“Oh, right.” His cheeks flame in embarrassment.

“So if it’s too much trouble I can find someone else–”

“No, I want to. Honestly. And I’ll figure it out with Santos.” He’ll just have to wait until she’s ready to talk, though there’s no telling how long that will take.

“Well, there’s no pressure. You can back out at any time. But you’ve been a big help, so,” his voice lowers, his tone softening and his eyes never leaving Dennis’s own, “thank you.”

His face must be crimson, considering how he feels like he’s burning up, and he prays it’s not that noticeable to the older man. “It’s no prob–”

A bang echoes out, loud and sudden, followed by a torrent of screams. Robby has Dennis behind him in an instant, arm coiled painfully tight around his shoulders, his body rigid as he scans the floor. 

Dennis struggles to see much from where his face is pressed into Robby’s back, but he vaguely glimpses people sprawled on the ground and crouched behind counters, covering their heads and extremities as panic takes over.

For several moments, like everyone else on the floor, Dennis thinks it’s a gunshot, his pulse racing and blood roaring in his ears, blocking out frightened cries. That is, until he catches sight of two teenagers laughing hysterically. One empties something into his palm out of a small box before hurling it at the ground. Another loud pop sounds out. 

“What the fuck is this?” Dana bellows, striding towards the two boys. “I don’t believe what I’m seeing!” The boys have gone silent and still as they watch her approach. “This is a hospital! People are having the worst days of their lives here and you think this is funny? Look around you!”

The boys look around as patients and staff pick themselves off the ground, crying and terrified. Abbot is now also striding up to the group, fury set into his brows. He confiscates the fun snaps from the boys before glancing briefly around the department. “False alarm everyone.”

People slowly start returning to what they were doing, a nervous quiet still permeating the space as staff try to reassure patients. Dennis starts to come back to himself, working the trembling from his sweaty hands.

“Jesus,” he mutters, heart still racing.

Robby turns, arms still hovering around Dennis, brows drawn tight in concern. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. Just startled, I guess.” 

Robby scans his face, eyes dark and analysing before he hesitantly steps back. He lets out a small, though unamused laugh. “Just the thing we need here today.”

“Yeah…”

“Go get those results to Miller. Good job today,” he praises again, giving Dennis a final pat on the shoulder before taking off in Abbot’s direction where he and Dana are still dealing with the teens. Dennis can’t help his small smile as he files away each compliment and finds Ethan’s room. 

“I’ve got your CT results, Mr. Miller–”

An arm is braced against his throat and before he can process what’s happening he’s thrown up against the wall behind him. The air is knocked out of him, his back smarting at the collision. Dennis’s hands come up to scratch at Ethan’s arm, uselessly, as he chokes the rest of his air from his lungs.

He stares at Dennis with no recognition, his gaze distant and frantic, his teeth gritted as he battles through whatever flashback he’s in the midst of. Dennis twists in his grip, kicking at his shins to no effect, and pushes against the man’s arm again. 

His head pounds, his neck in agony where it’s crushed against the wall, and in a desperate panic he manages to land a stilted punch to Ethan’s sternum. He reels back, clutching his chest, and Dennis’s legs go out beneath him as air rushes in quick enough to gag him.

He crawls towards the door, just has to get someone’s attention, until a force collides into him from behind. He crashes to the ground and hands wrap around his throat as he tries to fight through his disorientation, Ethan’s entire body falling on him and pinning him down. 

He grips his neck tighter as Dennis struggles beneath him, aiming to buck Ethan off and throw off his weight. But the man is too heavy, crushing him to the cold linoleum floor and keeping him effectively trapped as he strangles the life from him.

Dennis shoves him, clawing his nails into whatever skin he can reach as his head feels closer and closer to exploding, his lungs burning fiercely. Flinging an arm out, he searches until he grips the leg of a medical cart and he pulls it until it crashes to the ground. His lungs continue to burn, his throat spasming excruciatingly, and he gives another weak push at Ethan’s shoulders as his strength starts to desert him. 

Then Ethan’s eyes go wide as Robby appears behind him, wrapping an arm around his neck and attempting to drag him off of Dennis. Robby drives an elbow into Ethan’s back, hard enough to finally dislodge the man’s profound grip, and Dennis scrambles backwards out of his reach. 

His lungs contract as he sucks in frantic bursts of air, his vision blurring and ears ringing a high, piercing sound. He can only watch on in fear as Ethan spins around wildly like a cornered animal, catching Robby in the face with a stray elbow. Robby’s head snaps back, blood spurting from his nose, but he seizes Ethan’s flailing arm before he can strike again. 

Abbot races past Dennis in a blur of movement, capturing Ethan’s other arm, and together the two men wrestle him to the ground and keep him subdued. Dennis is still coughing and spluttering as more bodies run past him to restrain Ethan and likely to administer a sedative. 

Then Dana’s face swims in front of him and he reaches for her as he’s finally able to heave in a proper breath. He’s only half aware of his surroundings, of the discordant sounds of struggle behind him that eventually go still and silent, too focused on how every part of him hurts. 

McKay kneels down beside him, starting to check him over, her anxious gaze flitting over him. Both her and Dana help him to sit up and the world spins precariously. Robby is swearing a storm somewhere above him, voice tight and with a barely contained fury. 

Dennis glimpses the blood still gushing from the man’s nose, the bone bent awkwardly and clearly broken during the fray. His hands are buried in his hair, fingers clenching and pulling as he paces the room. Security keeps a clear distance as they pass him to deal with Ethan. Robby whirls on them but Abbot intercepts and steps between them before he can make a scene.

Abbot tries to get a look at Robby’s injury but Robby bats him away, swearing again and running an agitated hand over his face, narrowly avoiding the mess of his nose. He turns to glance at Dennis and the small group now congregated around him, eyes blazing. 

“Dana.”

“He’s fine,” Dana responds, hands hovering over Dennis’s neck, a grimace pulling her face tight. His skin is tender and throbbing and he can only imagine how red and irritated it must look, or the bruises that will be painted there by tomorrow. He draws in another shuddering breath, a wheeze more than anything, throat spasming in pain.

A hand grips his chin, sudden and firm, and Robby tilts his head to get a better look at the mess, his hold softening as Dennis winces in pain. Robby kneels in front of him, probing at his neck and assessing the damage. Dana grips Robby’s shoulder, attempting to pull him back.

“You’re in no state to examine him, go get checked out and leave him for us.” When Robby takes no notice, her voice grows sterner. “Let us handle it, Robby.”

He hesitates, fingers pressing against Dennis’s feverish skin, before he cautiously pulls back. A nurse presses a tissue into his hands and Robby tenderly places it against his nose to staunch the flow of blood still dripping onto the floor.

“I want a CT angiography of the neck and intracranial vessels. And a head and chest CT,” he orders as Abbot takes him by the elbow and guides him to an empty room to tend to his nose. Robby glances behind himself, briefly meeting Dennis’s eyes, and Dennis forces down the feeling of guilt trying to worm its way into his head.

McKay places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly. “Lets get you somewhere quiet and look you over before taking you to CT. Sound good?”

Dennis nods, not trusting himself to speak quite yet. He’s helped to stand on shaky legs, still absorbed in a mild state of shock. When a nurse brings over a wheelchair, he quickly shakes his head. 

“It’s protocol,” Dana tells him gently.

“Please,” he croaks. He’d never be able to live down the shame of his colleagues seeing him in such a way. He doubts they’d ever judge him, but his already established image as a clumsy and weak doctor, despite his recent transformation after becoming a resident, sends a bolt of self-consciousness through him. 

Dana stares at him for a moment before reluctantly waving the nurse away. She and McKay help him through the corridor and he tries to ignore the stares of every staff member he passes. He notices Langdon checking out the patient board, Mel chatting animatedly beside him. He looks to Dennis as he passes by, eyes widening.

“Shit, dude, are you okay?” 

Mel’s expression becomes equally as worried when she spots Dennis. “What happened?”

“Code hula hoop,” Dana states. “The situation’s been contained, get back to work,” she orders before they can crowd around him in concern and he’s grateful for her, his stores of energy thoroughly depleted for the day.

“What the fuck?” Trinity’s voice echoes through the ED, and Dennis spies her moments later darting down the hallway. “What the fuck happened?”

“I’m fine,” Dennis rasps, but the sound of his voice clearly does nothing to reassure her as she strides over to him, jaw clenched and eyes dark as she stares at the redness around his neck.

“A patient attacked him,” Dana clarifies again. “We’re going to get him checked out and then up to CT. There’s nothing to be worried about,” she directs to Trinity.

“A patient?” Her head snaps to Dennis. “You mean that fucking veteran?”

At Dennis’s guilty expression Trinity squeezes her temple briefly, evidently reining in an inappropriate response. McKay shoots her a sympathetic look.

“You go finish up with your patients and I’ll come find you when he’s out of CT. Then you can sit and keep an eye on him until he’s discharged, how does that sound?”

Trinity stares at McKay in hard resignation, before nodding reluctantly. “Fine.” 

☆ ☆ ☆

Dennis is lying in a patient room after a couple of hours of tests, the lights dimmed to help with his splitting headache. Trinity is sitting beside him, leaning against the arm of her chair with her head resting in her hand. She yawns periodically, whether in exhaustion or boredom Dennis isn’t sure. 

“I’m really fine–”

“Stop talking, Fuckleberry. You sound like you’ve smoked a pack a day since you were twelve.”

They remain in silence for a while, Trinity crossing her arms defensively while staring intently at the ground. A few more minutes and she lets out an exaggerated sigh and finally glances up. “Are you alright?” 

He nods, his neck throbbing with pain still, and he suppresses a wince. “Does it look bad?”

She lets out a sharp, unexpected burst of laughter, her shoulders shaking as she tries to suppress another. “Yeah. It looks bad.”

He groans quietly, resting his head back against his patient bed with a thump. But her laughter gives him the nerve to meet her eyes again and re-broach the subject. “You know you’re stuck with me for a while, right? I’m not going anywhere.” 

She seems to understand him despite his voice being barely more than a hoarse crackle. “Whatever, Fuckleberry.” 

It must finally resonate with her though, since her posture starts to relax, her expression softening marginally, and Dennis feels tension of his own start to seep out of him now that they’re finally on the same page again.

It means there’s room left in his brain, however, for his memories to start worming their way back inside. Of hands around his throat, of the cold, unforgiving wall plastered to his back, and the substantial feeling of being truly defenseless. He’s vaguely aware of his hands shaking again and tucks them under his armpits to keep them still.

Trinity stands abruptly and lowers the rail of his bed. “Move over.” Dennis shifts to the side and she crawls in next to him. “If you mention a fucking word of this…”

She pulls the rail back up, settling rigidly beside Dennis, her arm pressed up against his own, and he lets the small contact soothe his nerves. He tentatively relaxes against her.

It’s almost stupid, how safe he feels around her and he hopes she feels the same around him. She’s not revealed anything about her past yet, or about the things that make it so hard for her to accept his help. But moments like these, where their friendship is assured, give him faith that she’ll soon trust him enough to start opening up.

☆ ☆ ☆

The next thing he knows, he’s waking up to his head nestled against Trinity’s shoulder. She’s also dozed off, her head resting back against the bed. He glances forward to find Robby in the room, logged into the computer again and scrolling through something. Dennis would guess his own chart again.

“Sorry to wake you. Just checking in,” Robby says, switching the computer off. 

“What time is it?” Dennis mutters hoarsely, still groggy from sleep. The pain has dimmed somewhat now, making it easier to speak, though his voice sounds just as rough as it did several hours ago.

“Almost seven.” His nose is in a splint, bruising already visible around his eyes, and the guilt tries to claw its way out again, that Robby was injured while defending him.

Dennis hadn’t looked at his own appearance since the attack, but at both Trinity and Robby’s reactions, he imagines it isn’t pretty. Robby stands a little closer to Dennis’s bed, hands hovering over the railing before he stuffs them into his pockets. He continues to stare at Dennis, and for a moment Dennis would do anything to smooth out his pained expression.

“I’m fine,” Dennis blurts unprompted, though it’s more of a croak than a reassurance. He can’t suppress the wince that speaking draws out of him.

“No talking,” Robby orders firmly, lips pulled tight and his brows drawn low in concern.

But he is fine, the CTA he’d been ordered having shown no lasting damage to his blood vessels or the surrounding tissue, which Robby would have been made aware of. He should be ready for discharge so they can free up the room for another patient.

Trinity stirs beside him, waking up with a yawn while rolling her shoulders, likely sore from the awkward position.

“Shit, what’s the time?”

“Time to go home,” Robby replies. “You’re fit to be discharged now, but I want Dr. Santos here to keep an eye on you. Anything amiss and you bring him back immediately.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Trinity salutes, clambering off the bed. “Wait here,” she directs at Dennis, “I’ll get your shit from your locker.”

“Thanks.”

She leaves the room and the two men are left in silence.

“How’s Ethan?”

Robby scoffs at him. “Only you’d ask that after that ordeal.”

“He was in some kind of flashback. Likely from the fun snaps–” Dennis cuts himself off with a grating cough, his throat straining.

“I said no talking,” Robby reiterates with a pointed look. Dennis slumps at the reprimand, cheeks flushing. Robby stares at him with an undiscernible expression, before he pulls up an empty chair and takes a seat.

“How are you feeling?” His voice has gone quiet, pinched with unease. 

Dennis shrugs but he can feel how it lacks any conviction. He eyes Robby’s own injury again, the skin around his nose splint looking swollen and painful.

“I want you to speak to someone after this. A trauma councillor. This isn’t something you ignore or bottle up.” He trails off before giving Dennis a humourless smile. “Ethan would always do that. We see how that worked out.”

The mention of the man’s name has a queasiness settling in Dennis’s stomach and he swallows thickly, the ache in his throat intensifying. He can still feel the residual, phantom sensation of those hands around his neck, and a cold sweat breaks across his forehead.  

“I will.”

Robby shifts forward in his chair, bringing a hesitant hand to his knee. The heat of it seeps through the thin blanket thrown over Dennis’s legs, and a blush spreads along his cheeks, his heart thudding a little harder behind his ribs.

“If this has changed your mind about house-sitting–”

“It hasn’t. If you still want me to, that is.”

“I do. I trust you with my things.” This time when he smiles, his eye crinkles are back, and warmth blooms in Dennis’s chest at the sight. But Robby’s expression sours as his eyes scan Dennis’s neck again. “Gave me quite the scare, kid.”

“Sorry–”

“Don’t apologise. I’m sorry. You should have never been in that situation.”

“It’s always a risk with this job.”

“But it shouldn’t be. I’m… trying to change that. But it’s slow going.”

Dennis’s throat feels raw from all the talking but he can’t seem to stop himself when in the older man’s presence. “Thank you. For saving me.”

Robby’s shoulders go lax, his eyes softening again. “No problem, kid. I just wish I was a little quicker.” His hand flexes on Dennis’s knee.

“I–”

The door opens and Trinity pokes her head around the door. She’s changed out of her scrubs and Dennis can see her backpack slung across her shoulder with Dennis’s own. “I’ll go bring the car around, wait at the entrance for me.”

Dennis nods and she’s gone again. Robby stands from the chair, his joints popping audibly, before he pulls the blanket from Dennis. He lowers the railing and holds out a hand for Dennis to steady himself with as he slides off the bed. He knows his hand must be clammy and gross, but Robby makes no indication that it bothers him. 

Robby’s other hand comes up to rest heavily on Dennis’s back, large and spanning almost the width of his shoulder blades, and the thought gives him a dangerous thrill as he finally gets to his feet. His legs feel unsteady for a moment, from hours of disuse, and he takes the opportunity to keep Robby’s hand in his own for a little longer. 

Eventually, however, he pulls it back to follow Trinity out the door. To his pleasant surprise, the man’s other hand never leaves his back, the comforting weight guiding him out of the room instead.

He catches sight of his reflection briefly in the glass cut out in the door, and the bruises already look ghastly around his neck, distinct handprints visible and coiling around his skin like a choker. Every part of him aches, dull yet persistent. 

They pass the nurses station, Dana putting down a clipboard and coming up to rest a hand on Dennis’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“How are you doing?” 

“Better.”

“Good. Go get some rest. And I better not see you here tomorrow, you understand?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Robby insists. He and Dana share a final, pointed look above his head, before Robby pushes him forward again.

They’ve almost made it to the exit when Dennis spots Abbot through the window of a patient room. Ethan’s been moved, now bound to his bed using soft restraints and with security stationed outside. Claw marks line his arms, red and angry, and a few litter his face. Dennis realises belatedly that they’re from him. He picks at his nails, examines them to find dried blood caked underneath.

“Dennis.” 

He turns, face-to-face with Robby who peers at him worriedly, and Dennis breaks himself out of his perturbed thoughts. His heart is in his throat and pulsing erratically and he glances again to room, this time making eye contact with Ethan. The man’s eyes go wide and guilt clearly overtakes him. 

Abbot notices the interaction and seems to excuse himself from Ethan, leaving the room and joining Dennis and Robby. There’s a twin expression of guilt on his face as he takes notes of Dennis’s injuries.

“You doing okay?”

Dennis can only nod. Abbot likely would also have been filled in by Robby on his CTA results, which showed no damage. He guesses the man is actually asking about his mental state, for which he doesn’t exactly have the same response.

“I wanted to apologise.”

Dennis eyes him in confusion. “For what?”

Abbot frowns at the sound of his raspy voice before continuing. “I should’ve known that the loud sounds from those kids could’ve caused something like this. I should’ve checked on him when they went off. I’m sorry.”

Dennis nods in acceptance, grateful for the man’s acknowledgement. He stops himself from looking over to Ethan again, wanting instead to scrub all memory of this shift from his mind forever. 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Trinity reappearing from the waiting room, car keys in hand. “What’s taking so long–”

She follows Dennis’s line of sight to see Ethan and her expression turns dark with an emotion he can’t decipher. “Let’s go,” she mutters, taking him by the elbow.

Dennis throws one more glance behind him to the two men, offering Robby a small, non-committal wave, and then he’s hit by a cool rush of evening air as they finally exit the hospital. It acts like a balm to his sore, swollen skin, and he takes what feels like his first uninterrupted breath in hours.

They get into Trinity’s car and she pulls away from the curb, starting their route home. Her hands are clenched tight around the steering wheel, fingers flexing in tandem with her clenched jaw.

“It wasn’t his fault. Not really.” Dennis glances at her again but she doesn’t respond. “He was having some kind of flashback, from the fun snaps–”

“I have no sympathy for a man who chooses to endanger others by not sorting out his own shit in therapy or something.” 

He has no idea where she found that information out, but guesses she must have asked around about Ethan at some point while he was getting his tests done. 

“Like you do?” he asks sarcastically. 

‘I’m not a two-hundred pound man with multiple years of extensive combat experience. I’m not a physical danger to society.”

“I thought you knew self-defense?” he quips. 

She glances at him, unimpressed. “You’re always making excuses for everyone else’s shitty behaviour. Grow a spine.”

“This situation is a little different, I think. And anyway, no one here is more mean to me than you are.” 

“That’s different, I’m allowed to. It’s my right, as the person who gave you shelter.” She ignores his eye roll, shooting him a sardonic smile. “Besides, I do it because I care.”