SpaceSharks

emery’s love languages are acts of service and gifts. samira’s are words of affirmation.

emery makes samira lunch pretty much every day. they are always a mix of an actual meal and a bunch of snacks that are easy to eat on the go. it’s always far too much, but she likes to make sure samira has options for whatever kind of day she’s having. 

since samira likes words of affirmation, emery will write her notes in every single one of her lunches. they’ll be like a notecard long no matter what and they’ll always say things like, “you’re so good at your job” or “you are doing enough” or “punch robby in his motherfucking face”.

she’s also a big fan of finding little trinkets. if she’s at a thrift store and she finds a little something samira might like, she brings it to her. if she’s finds something on the ground samira might like, she brings it. picture a cat that shows up on your doorstep with a mouse except it’s emery walsh. 

she also will get home after work sometimes and be so full of adrenaline she can’t sleep. so she’ll channel it into doing chores and stuff around the house so samira doesn’t have to do it later. she’ll do samira’s dishes or make lists of her bathroom stuff that samira needs or make sure her shows are taping. just stuff like that.

she worries that samira doesn’t know how much she loves her because she’s not a super touchy feely person, so she tries to make up for it by providing a compliment every time she sees samira. “you’re so pretty.” “i saw that thing you did earlier, it was pretty cool” “you’re doing good”.

samira tries to find things that emery would like whenever she’s out. when she first figures out that gifts are emery’s love language, she’s scared because she thinks it means emery won’t love her if she doesn’t buy things. but she quickly realizes that emery is super happy with like a cool rock or something. just the knowledge that samira is thinking of her. (she has a whole drawer and keeps every one.)

samira also tries to keep up with acts of service. she’s not super good at this one but she’ll grab emery’s dishes before she can wash them or braid her hair when she doesn’t want to wash it. 

samira feels like she doesn’t do much, but emery looks at her like she hung the moon every time she so much as moves.

since words of affirmation come so naturally to samira she also just compliments emery on instinct. this woman is being showered in praise all the time and there is no matching it.

3 years.

That's how long Trinity had been a main fixture in the Al-Hashimi household.

"Now... remember-"

"I know. I know!"

"Anak ka talaga ng nanay mo." Trinity muttered under her breath before bracing her hands on Amir's shoulders. "Tell me anyways."

He sighed hard - 16 and already a man grown in his own head. Insanely proud of the wisps of hairs on his chin and the 4 additional chest hairs he had sprouted over summer. "If there's a bowl that white people use for popcorn or puke filled with pills, don't touch them. If there's food in it, also don't touch it cause who knows if they sanitized it properly." Trinity nodded and he gave Baran a long suffering look over the other woman's shoulder before resuming. "If Harrison or I have a beer call you, or mom... or any of my titos or titas. No judgement, just safety."

"Mmhmm..."

"And Harrison and I both have narcan on us and yes we paid attention when you and tita Cassie showed us how to use it all 783 times." Baran covered her mouth and tried not to laugh which only resulted in a very undignified snort. "Make good choices. Condoms exist. Tita Vic made us sit through very graphic videos of what happens to your junk when you have different STIs..."

Baran came up behind Trinity and pressed a swift kiss to the side of her neck, right under the small safety pin tattoo. "Azizam, let him go have fun. He knows the rules." She nodded to Amir. "Be safe. Have fun. Love you. Make good choices!"

They watched him hurry out before they could change their minds. A whine escaped Trinity, "how am I the intense parent? How are you so laid back?"

She tried to keep it under wraps. She tried to cap the resentment at the normal level of bitchiness people expected and not interrogate the sick feeling she always got when she thought about it. But he kept following her! How was it her fault that he kept trying to include her in his stupid little apology tour? She didn’t need one. She didn’t want one. She wanted him to face real consequences, not be welcomed back with open arms and already cozying up to the new attending who kept fucking Trinity over and probably would until Robby came back. 

If he ever did. 

Trinity had that to panic about on top of everything else, the idea of losing the only senior doctor who actually liked her, and Dennis playing house and charting and Al-Hashimi and Yolanda-

And Langdon in her fucking face.

“My wife threatened to divorce me, I almost lost my kids!”

“Yeah that’s what happens when you fuck up!” 

Her chest was tight, old pain morphing to rage until her hands shook and venom spewed from her lips because it was so much easier to be angry than hurt. Not that it helped, watching his face fall, watching the resolve drain from him when his therapy-rehearsed apology didn’t go the way he wanted like it did with everyone else. It didn’t help.

“You really want to atone for your sins? Tell everyone here you stole drugs and got kicked out of the ED because of it. Until then, stay out of my way.”

She got the last word, she left him standing there looking as stupid as he made her feel, and it didn’t help. 

Fuck it. Forget it. She would go lose herself in mindless charting and maybe get pulled into some insane trauma and just try to make this shift end faster. Just focus on getting Al-Hashimi off her back. And if she happened to grab a scalpel from the suture cart on her way, who fucking cared. 

Well, unfortunately and apparently, Dr. King did.

“All right, Melancholia, what are you staring at?” Trinity snapped, harsher than she meant. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mel pressed.

“You know how many times you’ve asked me?”

“Um, five now. I think.”

Don’t yell at Mel, don’t yell at Mel, Mel did not do anything to you.

“Look, I just want to finish my charting so I can go home on time.”

“Okay, but, if you’re not okay, maybe it would be good to take a break-”

“I don’t need a break! I need everyone off my back and Langdon to-”

She bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. Mel frowned at the mention of the senior resident. Right. She actually liked him. Trinity wondered if he’d already admitted to her what everyone should know. Probably. Of course he would find his absolution through the most forgiving person in the entire department and think it was proof he deserved it from everyone else. 

Would anyone even care if they knew? Would it matter? Not even Garcia cared, the one who had heard all of it and seen the scars and might have understood why it hurt so bad. Oh, who was she kidding with that one? Garcia only cared when it interrupted their hook-ups. No one else had the slightest reason.

She could almost imagine it, the rest of the team’s sentiments, so proud of the golden boy for getting help and coming back stronger for it but she, she was the same. She wasn’t getting help, she never tried to change or tried to get over it, did nothing to get rid of the aggressive energy, the standoffishness, she was trouble and nothing else while the man who actually committed a crime barely got a slap on the wrist! It was always the fucking same!

Trinity shoved her chair back from the table, heading for the stairs. Mel was calling after her but she didn’t listen. She just gripped the scalpel in her pocket and booked it to the roof. 

----

What mess did I walk into?

It was all Baran could think as she watched Santos and Langdon in each other’s faces, hissing a heated argument through their teeth. Good. As much as it concerned her watching them go back and forth, tempted to step in before it came to blows like she had witnessed in past services, she knew whatever they were saying was not something any patient or staff should hear. She swore she saw Trinity’s hands shaking from across the room as she crossed her arms and said something sharp and final, harsh enough to leave Dr. Langdon standing with his head hung in defeat. 

Langdon already admitted to being “a pretty big asshole” to the younger resident in the past but this was… beyond that. Far beyond. And of course it came after Dr. Robinavitch told her she had nothing to worry about with their spitfire of an R2. 

“Dr. Robby!” Baran dodged a gurney headed for the ICU. “Dr. Robby, a minute, please-”

“Dr. Al-Hashimi, you know I’d love to talk,” he interrupted, barely breaking his stride towards who knows where to avoid her, “but I’ve got some important things to handle so it’ll have to wait!”

“It will only take a… Dammit.” 

So much for his help. Langdon obviously did not give her the entire truth of the situation. She considered asking Dr. Santos directly, but she imagined the response would be something so insubordinate, she’d be forced to reprimand her if anyone heard. Santos had been reprimanded enough today by Baran, for which she now found herself a bit remorseful, not to mention-

Dr. Garcia.

Baran spotted a flash of purple scrubs across the department as the surgeon stalked past, staring at her pager. Baran’s shoulders tensed. They’ll be thrilled to clean up your mess. The remark, in simple words, pissed her off. Her options were do the slash trach or let the boy die, apologies if the incisions were not as pristine as a surgeon’s in a calm controlled operating room might be. And this coming from the doctor who chose to relocate a destroyed shoulder in the ED, whose response to Baran being right was “I am the OR.” Another surgeon with a massive ego. No surprise.

She thought of how Garcia flashed one look in a trauma and the younger doctor rapidly retreated into herself. Now with it in the forefront of her mind, she realized she witnessed it multiple times already. Whenever she spotted Garcia and Santos from the corner of her eye, the resident had that same look: shoulders curled in, eyes on the floor, arms crossed or tugging on her stethoscope, fixing her expression the second she turned back towards the rest of the ED. She didn’t back down like that during her argument with Langdon - quite the opposite - or even when her new attending continuously reminded her about charting. She had a smartass remark for everyone in the department.

But not for Garcia. It left a sour taste in Baran’s mouth, though she didn’t know why. 

God, don’t make me talk to this woman, she thought, and jogged over to intercept her anyway.

“Dr. Garcia.”

The surgeon looked less than thrilled to see her. “What’s up?”

“Could I have a word? In private?”

“I have one minute.”

“That’s fine.”

They stood off to the side in the stairwell, facing each other across the hall. Baran kept one eye on the door in case they were interrupted. 

“Is this about your slash trach patient?” Garcia asked, raising her eyebrows.

Baran clung to her calm, professional smile and fought the urge to physically wipe the condescension off Garcia’s face. 

“No, I already received an update,” she said evenly. “I was hoping to ask you about Dr. Santos.”

----

Dennis was still reeling from Robby’s request. Housesitting seemed normal enough, maybe a little long-term in this case, but normal. The comment, though, how he would have a nice place if Robby never came back, what the hell was that? Why wouldn’t he come back?

He needed to talk to Trinity. She and Robby were close. Well, close enough in the world of the emergency department; they were a good team at work, and even if she didn’t say it out loud, Dennis knew she was upset about his sabbatical. Langdon’s first day back didn’t help either, that fucking asshole, and Garcia…

There was a litany of insults he would throw in her face if he ever got the chance, if Trinity ever told her off and he could do it maybe without ruining his career. Over the past ten months, he heard too many hushed arguments on the other side of the wall, watched Trinity check her phone every five minutes for a reply that wouldn’t come for hours or days, listened to drunken heartbroken rants she didn’t remember about a woman who didn’t give a fuck. Not to mention that Garcia and Langdon were friends before everything and Dennis knew she was not exactly team-Trinity through it. 

Maybe he should cancel the weekend at the farm. He needed to talk to Trinity.

He found Mel.

“Hey.” Dennis slid into the empty chair beside her. She jumped, startled out of her notes, before turning to smile at him. “How did your deposition go?”

The smile faded. “Oh, um, it went… Dr. Ellis said I did fine. And the attorney said I’m not allowed to talk about it anymore.” 

“I’m sure you were great,” he offered. 

“Thanks, can we please talk about something else?”

“Yeah. Right.” Dennis shook his head and took a deep breath. “Hey, have you seen Santos anywhere? I need to talk to her but I keep getting pulled away.”

“Yes! Yes, I saw her,” Mel said excitedly at the change of subject. “She was here a while ago, maybe twenty minutes? She said something about Langdon and-”

“Langdon?” he interrupted. “Wait, wait, did she talk to Langdon? What did she say?”

Blessed Mel, her confused surprise made him regret his tone the second it left his mouth. “Did they need to talk about a patient?” she asked.

“No, Trinity - I mean, Santos… Do you know where she went?”

“She went towards the stairs. The roof, maybe? She looked like she needed some air.” Her eyes remained on him as they both stood. “Is something wrong with Santos?”

“M-Maybe, I don’t know, I… I have to go.”

“Whitaker-”

“I got it!” 

He didn’t know how he kept his gait steady through the emergency department. By some miracle, he only started sprinting when he saw the stairs, flying past Garcia and Dr. Al-Hashimi on his way to the roof. 

----

Dr. Santos’ name must have touched a nerve. Baran puffed her chest as Dr. Garcia stood up straighter, cocking her head to the side and pursing her lips, and was her eye twitching?

“What do you need to know about Trinity?”

Trinity?

“I know there’s some tension between her and Dr. Langdon,” Baran explained, “and now it’s seemingly come to a head.”

“She finally grew up and said something to him?”

She blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Yeah, they have beef, it’s an old thing.”

“All right, well, if you’d like to share-”

“Not my business to share, and frankly - Woah, white chocolate, watch it!”

Baran stepped back as Dr. Whitaker came flying around the corner, his shoes squeaking on the tile as he ran up the stairs. She glanced down at her pager. No alerts to an incoming Life Flight. No one was following him to whatever prompted such a rush. Garcia jerked her head after him.

“Do you need to go handle that?” she prompted. Baran stayed steady, and Garcia rolled her eyes. “Look, their problems are not something I want to deal with anymore. I’ve heard enough about it from Trinity off the clock, I’m not interested in using hours I could be doing my job listening to more of this.”

Baran’s eyes narrowed. “Off the clock?”

“It’s not a secret.” 

“Not a… wait.” She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as Garcia pointedly stared at a clock on the wall. “HR did not provide me any relationship disclosure forms from my staff.” 

“Because there isn’t one,” Garcia scoffed.

“A relationship or a form?”

“Either. You know, with all due respect, Dr. Al-Hashimi, this is starting to sound like a more personal interrogation. If you wanted to find out if Santos is single-”

“Excuse me?”

“Relax.”

“I want to know if two of my residents hate each other, and since you apparently have a connection with one of them, I am asking for some insight!” 

“Fine! Here’s some insight. Trinity doesn’t play well with others. She’s had a problem with Langdon since day one and she’s been harping on it for ten months, especially since she found out he was coming back. It’s nothing new. If they finally talked and it didn’t go well, which I’m guessing not since you’re asking me about it, keep them separated. After Rabbit-Bitch goes on his sabbatical, those two and this mess-” She made a wide gesture towards the ED. “-are your issue. This can’t be the first time you’ve had residents who don’t like each other.” 

Baran laughed in disbelief. “Not liking each other hardly explains them looking like they might start a fist fight in the middle of the ER!”

“Just shut it down when she starts bitching about it,” Garcia said coolly. “The worst she’ll do is be snippy in front of patients and that is no different than any other day with Dr. Trinity Santos.” 

It made her almost sick. Santos had a mouth on her, sure, it didn’t take long to realize, but… shut down her bitching? And the blasé way Garcia talked about her, like she was a plaything, like whatever Trinity meant to her was so little that even HR in all their overreaching wouldn’t care if they knew. Were they even talking about the same woman here? All day, Baran watched Trinity in trauma after trauma working with the skill and intelligence and patient care some doctors several years her senior had yet to accomplish. She watched her seamlessly flow through a life-or-death call, calm down every scared child who came through the department, and she wasn’t sure exactly what happened but the abandoned baby girl finally stopped crying after Santos checked on her. There was so much good she did behind the snarky comments. Of course, Baran wanted to encourage it. And yet, every time she went to compliment Trinity, she was met with a pre-apology for an expected reprimand on charting; like praise was such a rare novelty. Now she understood why. 

She shouldn’t have threatened to make her repeat her R2 year. It wasn’t her intention at the time but she understood how it might have come across. Perhaps an apology was in order before asking anything about Langdon. 

Standing toe to toe with Dr. Garcia, Baran found herself suddenly and alarmingly protective over Trinity Santos. 

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, slipping back into the comfortable role of cool collected attending physician. “Well,” she said curtly, “I appreciate the information, Dr. Garcia.” 

“Sure.” 

They turned in unison and headed back into the emergency department. Baran ground her teeth, glancing up at Garcia to see the same fuck, we’re walking the same way expression on her face. Her one saving grace was Princess walking up to them and hopefully saving her from any further interaction.

“Dr. Al-Hashimi, you have an update from the OR on your slash trach patient.”

Dammit!

“Let me see.” Dr. Garcia took the paper from Princess and gave it a quick scan. “Hm. They were able to do a clean repair.” She passed Baran the report with an amount of attitude that made her wonder where Garcia got off reprimanding Santos about hers. “Maybe do a few more cadaver labs before you try it again.” 

Princess’ beeline towards Perlah did not go unnoticed, but it stopped Baran from laughing outright when Garcia got shoulder-checked by Javadi sprinting by.

“Jesus Christ, nepo baby!” the surgeon barked. Javadi froze in her tracks, quickly followed by Dr. King looking just as panicked. “Can you and Robinavitch please put your Pittlings on a leash?”

“Pittlings, what - Mel, Javadi,” said Baran, “speed in the emergency department also requires attention to where you are going. That could have been a patient.”

“S-Sorry, sorry,” Mel stammered, “we just, um… Javadi, take over?”

“We got a text from Whitaker,” the med student explained. 

“About what?”

“We don’t know. He just said ‘roof now’ and then ‘Trinity.’”

“In all caps,” Mel added, “and she’s been off all day-”

“Go.” Baran pushed Mel and Javadi towards the stairwell with Garcia close behind. “Go now.”

----

Trinity was not on the edge. She sat on the railing, one hand steadying her, a scalpel in the other. The city stretched so far, lit up with countless lights and a backdrop of soft sunset orange, the edge of the sky darkening as her shift went on and on and on. Pretty soon fireworks would replace it. She was sure a few of the staff would come up here to watch if overtime went that far. It probably would.

She was supposed to be out with Yolanda for it. Other plans, she said. Trinity wished she would just say it was another woman. Hearing it would fucking suck, even if they were casual, but she thought it wouldn’t hurt as bad as Yolanda simply making an excuse to blow her off. Again. What did she have to do now besides go home to an empty house for the weekend, pick up Huckleberry’s clothes he left everywhere and hope he got a chance to text her, staring at the wall trying to forget her life. 

Javadi for sure got called home by her parents already. She doubted Mel liked her enough to go out, and frankly she thought she might explode if Mel brought up Langdon and she did not want to blow up on someone who really, really didn’t deserve it. She knew better than to ask anyone else.

Santos doesn’t play well with others. Santos is the angriest person I’ve ever met. Santos is always aggressive and always a bitch and everyone knows it.

The thoughts swirled in her head until they drowned out everything else. She remembered that kid from the day of the mass casualty, how she told him how grateful she was that she stayed alive back then and made it this far. Was she, though? Was pushing through all the awful back then really worth where she ended up?

She toyed with the still-packaged scalpel. It used to help. She knew it wasn’t healthy but it gave her some control over her own body again. Or maybe it was penitence for buried survivor’s guilt. She wanted one option; she figured she deserved the other.

The scalpel slipped from her hand. She began to climb off the railing.

“Trinity!”

Dennis snatched the back of her scrubs and yanked her so hard they both ended up on their asses on the concrete.

“What the fuck, Huckleberry!” she snapped as they sat up. “You could’ve knocked me over the edge!”

“You were already on the edge!” he hollered back.

“I was getting down-”

“On the wrong side! What are you doing up here?”

“Oh, so everyone else can take a breather on the roof but when I do it-”

“Not everyone stands on the edge looking down.”

“I’m shocked more people don’t.” She stood, turning towards the door, praying he’d get the hint and drop it.

“Trinity, Trin, stop.” Dennis jumped in front of her and she seriously considered punching him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Why do you care!” 

She’d never seen him so angry at her. 

“Because we’re friends, I think! I’ve been worried about you all day! Just tell me what happened. Did I do something? W-Was it Langdon or did Garcia say something or-”

“Both!” She was screaming so loud she bet they heard her in the ambulance bay, and Trinity didn’t yell, not often, but the world was too much right now and Dennis was the only one safe enough to hear it and not hate her after. “He tried some bullshit apology with me after being in my space all day and when I didn’t accept it, he started talking about everything he’s been through like it makes up for what he did. It sounded so fucking rehearsed I don’t even think he believes it. Even if he got sober, he’s still a fucking asshole and you wanna know something?”

Her eyes stung. Whitaker’s calm, gentle face blurred as her heart raced and her breathing became harsh and shallow.

“When he screamed in front of everyone that I was stupid and arrogant and didn’t belong here, that was Mohan’s mistake. I didn’t even do it. I just took the fucking fall for her.”

“Why would you do that on your first day?”

“’Cause I didn’t want her getting in trouble and getting screamed at like I did! It’s the same reason I went to Robby instead of the state medical board! I should have but I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble,” she spat, mocking her intern self. “No one knows he stole from the hospital and from patients’ prescriptions. They just think I ‘uncovered his addiction’ for brownie points with the attending, and on top of it, Yolanda just fucking-!”

Her voice broke. She wrapped her arms around herself, ducking her head as Whitaker held her shoulders and led her to sit back against the railing. “She cancelled,” she admitted quietly. Dennis exhaled sharply. “Said that casual shit again and said she’ll try to text tomorrow.”

“Try,” he scoffed. 

“But then I was in a trauma with her and Langdon and she tore into me about decency and when I asked her if we were okay, she just told me to be a big girl and get over it. I’ve told her everything about it and she just… doesn’t care. No one does. Everyone thinks I’m the one who did something wrong and he just gets away with it.” 

Trinity brought her knees to her chest, covering her head so Dennis couldn’t see the tears she tried to blink away despite being positive he already noticed. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore.”

She felt Dennis tense as he wrapped his arms around her. “At… at the Pitt?”

All she could do was shake her head. 

He sighed and covered her fully, as best as he could sitting beside her, shielding her from the world crumbling around her like no one had, like no one ever cared enough to do. She dimly noticed the light of his phone screen over her head. 

“Who are you texting?” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t tell Robby.”

I already disappointed enough people.

“I’m not. Promise.” 

----

Baran and Garcia burst onto the roof behind Mel and Javadi. The senior doctors froze in their tracks when they spotted Dr. Whitaker sitting against the railing and staring into space, arms around Trinity curled into a ball against his side. Even after only a day of knowing her, Baran never imagined someone with such a big personality, who took up so much space in every room she walked into, could ever look so small. 

Javadi crouched beside Trinity and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, speaking quietly as Trinity shook her head. Dennis pulled away from her enough to talk to Mel. As Baran watched, he jerked his head towards the edge of the roof. Mel straightened in shock. Baran and Garcia realized in unison exactly what happened when Mel grabbed the railing and leaned over to stare at the pavement far below. 

“Oh my God,” Garcia whispered. Baran followed at a distance only to remain in earshot as she knelt in front of Trinity. Whitaker tensed when she got close. “Trin-”

Trinity stiff-armed her in the chest. 

Whitaker jumped up, getting in Garcia’s face. Baran rushed forward before he completely destroyed his career but he kept his hands at his sides and a calm expression on his face. She put a warning hand on his shoulder, anyway. She did not need one of her interns getting suspended for cursing out a trauma surgeon over personal issues at work. 

Garcia raised her hands. “Dennis-”

“You can go back to the surgery floor, Dr. Garcia,” he said, clipped and curt. “Thanks for checking in.” 

“Come on-”

“We have it under control here.” He lowered his voice so Baran barely heard. “I’ll let you know when you can come get your shit from our apartment.” 

“Enough.” Baran stepped between them, facing Garcia. “Dr. Whitaker is right, we have this under control.”

Garcia’s jaw tightened. “Let me talk her down.”

“She seems down enough,” she insisted, “and, respectfully, I believe we just saw you will only make it worse.” 

Garcia’s eyes flickered between Baran and Whitaker standing over her shoulder, and then her stare turned past them. Baran didn’t need to look to know she was watching Trinity, still guarded by Javadi and Mel and - Baran prayed - not staring back. Neither of the senior doctors backed down for a full minute, toe to toe again with each silently threatening the other to fuck off, but Baran already heard quite enough from her today and now they were here and… no. Garcia was not getting anywhere near her. Not if Baran had a say and as an attending and as Trinity's attending, she absolutely fucking did. 

In the end, the surgeon inclined her head, shot her one last dark look, and left the roof. 

Baran took a deep breath and turned on her heel. Whitaker had replaced Mel at Trinity’s side, who was still curled up shutting out the world. Mel, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, came running up to her the second she saw her looking. 

“She’s not hurt,” she whispered haltingly. “Not physically, at least. But, there’s a, um… there’s a scalpel on the other side of the railing. I’m not sure how it would have gotten up here.”

“Open?” Baran asked.

“No.”

“Thank you, Mel. Please return to the ED, they need you down there.”

“Should I call someone or…?”

“No, let me handle this.” 

“Okay. Thanks, Dr. Al.” 

She called to Javadi as Mel left, walking the med student over to the door, out of earshot. “Do you know if Dr. Jefferson is still on shift?”

“I think so? Should I get him?”

“Please, and keep it quiet. I do not want the entire department coming up here.” She paused, shook her head, and sighed, “Especially Dr. Robinavitch.”

Javadi’s eyes widened. “You… you don’t want me to tell Robby.”

“After his reaction to Samira today, no. I do not.” 

“Got it. Um. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll tell Caleb.”

“Thank you.” 

Whitaker was up, meeting her halfway across the roof, glancing over his shoulder at Trinity who still hadn’t moved. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Guess you’re kicking me out next?”

“Not kicking you out, but I’ve handled more situations like this. As her attending, I’d like to make an assessment before psych gets here and I believe it will be easier if we are alone,” Baran explained. He pursed his lips and nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Do you know her emergency contact off the top of your head?”

“It’s me. We’re roommates.” 

“All right. I’ll page you with an update. If anyone asks, you can just say I need you. I’ll cover.” 

“Thanks, Dr. Al-Hashimi.” He took a deep breath. “Don’t hold it against her if she says something rude right now.”

“Of course. I understand.”

Whitaker nodded sullenly. He glanced at the door back into the building, hesitating for a moment, and leaned in close with an anger in his eyes Baran did not realize the young man was capable of displaying. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet, but Langdon tried to get Trinity fired on her first day because she figured out he was using benzos at work. That’s why there’s tension between them.”

And then Baran was alone with Trinity on the roof, staring at the empty space Whitaker had occupied, barely able to comprehend what he told her. God, she was going to rip Robby a new one the next time she saw him, what was his fucking problem that he forgot to mention that? How did “no problems” turn into a patient safety violation and potential retaliation case? Was he so obsessed with making it seem like he was the only one who could manage the ED that he would-

She cut off the train of thought. Not the time. 

Dragging a hand down her face, she sat a polite distance from Trinity and nothing more. She didn’t talk, or try to get her to talk, or offer a hand for a long, long time. Trinity’s breathing was slow and even. In, hold, out. But Baran caught the occasional smothered hiccup crying always seemed to leave over. She watched the steady rise and fall of Trinity’s shoulders until the younger woman finally lifted her head. 

Her eyes were unfocused, lazily trailing a faultline in the concrete. “Come to talk to me about my charting again?”

Baran smirked and tried to ignore how much it stung. “No, I’m not.” 

“You can go now. I’m not going to jump off the roof. I wasn’t in the first place, Huckleberry just freaked.” 

“Nice try, Dr. Santos, but I am not leaving you alone right now.” She risked a hand on Trinity’s shoulder and considered it a win when she didn’t pull away. “Where did the scalpel come from?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“All right.” That was a later conversation. “Trinity, be honest,” she said gently. Trinity finally lifted her head and looked at Baran, her eyes glassy and red. “What were you doing up here?”

“I just needed a breather. Don’t worry, I didn’t run out on any patients.”

“I wasn’t worried. I know you wouldn’t.”

“You haven’t even gone through a whole shift with me yet,” she scoffed. She pulled her undershirt up to wipe her eyes with the collar. “Give it another few hours, you’ll think the same thing everyone else does.”

“And what does everyone else think?”

“Don’t bullshit me, I know someone’s told you I’m the fucking problem child of this department. Go ahead and ask them.”

“I think there are… far bigger problems… than anything you could have caused.” 

“Wrong again.”

“Whitaker told me about Langdon,” she blurted out. Trinity bristled, staring at Baran with a kind of fear she never wanted to see again, expecting another apocalyptic consequence for doing what was ethically and legally right. Baran just squeezed her shoulder and prayed it came across as comforting. “Robby should have told me when I arrived and I will be having a long, long discussion with him about this. You did nothing wrong.” 

Trinity just watched her, unresponsive. She didn’t know why, and maybe it wasn’t the most professional thing in hindsight, but she reached out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind Trinity’s ear. Trinity closed her eyes and leaned into the touch. Baran kept her hand there, gently resting on her cheek, and attempted a reassuring smile.

“I know what it’s like,” she said softly, “to think you’ve done everything right and it still not be enough. To feel like you have no control over yourself. But you cannot let it stop you from doing what you were put on this earth to do. And you, Trinity, were meant to be an emergency physician. You belong here. I want you to know that.”

“Just keep grinding?” she mumbled.

“Exactly.”

“Are you going to make me repeat my R2 year?”

“No. That was meant to be an encouragement to stay on top of it, not a threat.”

“It sounded like a threat.”

“I realize that.” She swiped her thumb along the curve of Trinity’s cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear. “I do need you to talk to Dr. Jefferson when he gets here.”

“Figures.” Sitting up straight, she took a deep, shuddering breath and let her hands fall into her lap. “Don’t make it look like I had a breakdown. It’s bad enough Mel and Crash already saw me like this.” 

Baran smirked. “I won’t, I promise. And, from what I saw, I think your fellow Pittlings are more understanding than you might think.”

Trinity whipped her head around to stare at Baran in shock, the life flooding back into her as she groaned, “Oh God, who told you about that?”

“Is it that bad?” she laughed.

“No, it’s… Ugh, it’s some stupid little nickname we got because we all started together last year. I think the night shift crew started it and it kind of spread. I know surgery knows about it because Crash said Dr. Shamsi actually brought it up to her once. Said it was ‘unprofessional.’” 

“Ah, well.” A sour taste coated her tongue. “You know how surgeons can be.”

Baran regretted it the moment it left her mouth. Trinity winced, turning away and hiding her face, choking out, “Yeah, I know,” as she brought one arm up to cover her head again. 

“I’m sorry, I… Where’s your phone?”

“What?”

“Open your contacts and give me it.”

Trinity looked at her like it was a trick, reluctantly logging into her phone and passing it to her attending. Opening a new contact, Baran typed in her name and number and sent herself a quick text so she had Trinity’s number saved before handing it back, their fingers brushing as Trinity frowned in confusion.

“That is my personal number,” she explained. “If you ever need to talk when we’re not on the floor, if you ever have any concerns you might want to discuss off the record, text or call.”

Trinity looked down at her phone; at Baran; at her phone again. When she finally smiled, Baran couldn’t ignore the way her own heart lit up with it. 

“Isn’t that kinda unethical?” she joked.

“Mm. Not technically.”

“Wow, what a rulebreaker.”

“I have to set an example.”

“Right.” Trinity wiped her eyes one last time. The door to the roof opened, and she leaned her head back as Javadi and Dr. Jefferson stepped out. “Let’s get this over with.”

Baran stood and offered a hand to help her to her feet. She felt Trinity shaking, her grip tight and clinging long after both of them should have let go. 

“I want you to know you can trust me, Trinity.”

She didn’t respond.

----

Trinity needed a distraction. She needed noise in an empty house. She needed to not think about anything to do with work. So maybe watching reruns of “Untold Stories of the ER” wasn’t the best choice but there was nothing good on literally any streaming service and it was cool to see the stranger traumas she prayed she never had to handle in real life. 

Four more days, she told herself, rotting on the couch and staring at the TV. Four more days and life could kind of go back to normal.

Dr. Al-Hashimi helped her craft a “family emergency” story for when she came back, something about a sick cousin, to explain her two week long break. She thought it was a stupidly long reset period but it was implied her choices were this or a psych hold, so she chose the break far away from the hospital.

The only other people who knew were Victoria and Mel. Crash checked in and tried to act normal. There was definitely something to be said about her considering a psychiatry rotation. She was the first one to get a genuine laugh from Trinity since that night, by way of a voice message of her screaming, “When did you tell Princess about my birthday?!” It was light coming through a crack in the dark walls around her. It was a break from everything else, especially when she realized she could hear the laughter in Javadi’s voice, too.

Mel kept her updated on the most interesting cases. No names, no interpersonal drama mentioned, just presenting, treatment, and outcome if she knew. Trinity appreciated it. And she did ask if Trinity was okay a few times but didn’t push and Trinity appreciated that even more. Sitting at the kitchen table for a change of scenery, she watched the little typing bubbles pop up. Go away. Pop up again.

MEL-ATONIN: We should celebrate when you get back!

Me: Karaoke?

MEL-ATONIN: YES!

Huckleberry passed on a goodbye from Robby, one Trinity let herself sit with and be sick 

with for a few hours before she gave it up. She knew it was happening, she just… wanted to say it in person. Dennis promised he told Robby she said goodbye, too, at least. 

And Yolanda… she didn’t know. On purpose. She’d muted and hid any notifications from her, not interested in anything she had to say if she had anything at all. She was a little startled by herself, how she’d shoved her away on the roof. Not that she didn’t deserve it. Everything she already said to her that day and she thought she could swoop in and be the savior of the moment because Trinity always folded so easily with her. Not again. Not anymore. 

The tears were just starting to well up again when the doorbell rang. Trinity groaned, throwing her head back, and dragged herself off the couch to answer. 

And because the universe is cruel, she found Yolanda standing at her door. 

Dark circles hung heavy beneath sleepless eyes, her curls frizzy and loose falling over her shoulders, and she smelled like cigarette smoke. She only smoked when she was on the edge of losing it. Trinity had seen Yolanda in a lot of states before, from the fallout of a bad surgery to lazy, happy morning-afters, but this was new. Even the ever-present emotionally una-fucking-vailable hardness was missing as she met Trinity’s shocked stare. 

She was a wreck.

“Hey.” 

“Uh, hey.” Trinity crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe and wishing she’d made an attempt to put herself together before she answered. “What’s up?”

“Just… stopping by,” Yolanda mumbled, her voice rough. “Where’s Whitaker?”

“He got called in for a few hours until the night shift takes over.”

“I’m guessing he probably would have chased me off if he was home.”

“Yeah, he’s not your biggest fan right now.”

“Don’t think he ever was.” She glanced over Trinity’s shoulder at the messy living room. “Have you been sleeping on the couch?”

“Yeah, I have. It’s easier for Huckleberry to watch me and make sure I’m not trying to kill myself!” she snapped. “Since everyone thought I was going to!”

“You were on the roof-”

“What the fuck do you care? Oh, you got your wish, by the way, I’m finally seeing a therapist! And the trauma counselor, once a week, and Caleb is going to be on my ass if I miss an appointment, so there you go. Happy now?”

Yolanda scoffed. “Trinity, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You didn’t mean it? That’s what we’re going with? Yolanda, why are you even fucking here?”

“I came to apologize. I…” She threw her hands in the air and wouldn’t look Trinity in the eye. “I fucked up. I’ve been fucking up with you and I didn’t realize how bad until now and I’m sorry.” 

Trinity dug her fingers into her bicep and stared straight ahead praying it would make her seem somewhat more formidable than she felt in the moment. “Yeah. You have been. Thanks for noticing.” 

As much as Trinity was trying to instigate an argument, something to give her an excuse to tell Yolanda to fuck off for good, Yolanda seemed hellbent on keeping them out of one. “Can I come in? Please?”

She should have slammed the door in her face. Instead, she silently turned around and went to sit on the couch, letting Yolanda come in and shut the door behind her, but she managed to shoot her a cold enough glare to keep her standing in the center of the room. It was all she had the strength for in the moment. 

“Look, the thing between you and Langdon,” Yolanda continued, “I just wanted to forget it. I know that’s not an excuse-”

“You don’t think I want to forget it, too?” 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to think about what he did, and I don’t want you to have to think about it, and yeah! I’m frustrated with it! I want you to get help for it!”

“And you don’t think there was any other way you could have said it instead of ‘get a therapist?’”

“Will you let me talk?”

Trinity shot to her feet. “Will you be sincere for once!”

“I’m trying!” 

“Not sure why! We’re casual, right? Last time I checked, that doesn’t usually include telling people you can talk me down when someone else already helped and you showed up late!” 

Yolanda faltered, her mouth opening and closing, searching for a rebuttal she didn’t have. Trinity wanted it to feel good, to finally be on the front foot for once, and fucking hated when it didn’t, and hated even more when her eyes started stinging with unshed tears again. It was not the first time she cried in front of her, not by a long shot, but this was absolutely the worst time for it to happen. 

“A rain check?” Her voice was weak and thready. “Blowing me off for fireworks? Really?”

“My roommate from college was in town, it was last minute.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that, then?”

“You get jealous!”

“You went radio silence on me for three days because Dr. Walsh said she wanted to see me on the night shift! Again, why do you care!”

Yolanda didn’t answer. She reached out, gentle and cautious, letting Trinity take her hand before coaxing her closer. Trinity couldn’t help it. She let Yolanda hold her tight, softly shushing her as she broke down in her arms for the thousandth time, threading her fingers into her hair and kissing her temple as she whispered apologies in her ear. Trinity followed without complaint as Yolanda brought her to the couch, leaning back against the arm so Trinity could lie on her chest and listen to her steady heartbeat with her head tucked beneath her chin. 

She wasn’t sure how long it was before she stopped crying. Yolanda kept silent the whole time. She pressed small circles into the muscle knots in Trinity’s shoulders until the younger woman let go of a ragged breath and relaxed fully into her. 

“I want to run something by you,” she murmured, curling a lock of Trinity’s hair around her finger. Trinity grunted a permission to speak. “I think we should submit a relationship disclosure form.”

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

“So they know not to consult me when you do your double residency on the surgical floor. Let your skills speak for themselves and no one can claim I helped you get it.”

When?

Trinity’s mind flashed back to that night on the roof. To Baran Al-Hashimi smiling at her, gently caressing her cheek and telling her she did belong at the Pitt. She did have a place there. Telling her she was meant to be an emergency physician and to not let anyone bully her into believing otherwise. 

“I’m… not sure if I want to anymore.” 

“Still.”

“You’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

“I’m not. Really.”

She couldn’t resist one final dig. “That’s not very casual, Dr. Garcia.”

“I figured it’s time I start acting like a grown-up,” Yolanda sighed. Trinity smiled. It was so easy to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her mind when Yolanda kissed the top of her head and traced the line of her cheekbone, an uncharacteristic display of tenderness no one got to see but her. “When do you go back?”

“Four days.”

“We’ll do it next week. I’ll get the form from HR and we can fill it out after dinner?”

“Okay.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

My girl.

Yolanda took the opportunity to grab the remote off the coffee table as Trinity fished her phone out of her pocket. “Oh God, ‘Untold Stories of the ER?’ You’re watching videos about your own job?”

“Not my job if I’m not the doctor onscreen.” 

With her arm hanging off the side of the couch, where Yolanda couldn’t see, she opened Dennis’ contact and sent a quick text:

Don’t be mad…

She immediately turned her phone on silent to avoid the flurry of outraged texts she was bound to get when he saw it. As she went to close out of her messages, she saw one unread.

Baran: Hello, Dr. Santos. Just checking in again. How are you feeling?

----

Across the city, alone in a house that felt too big with only her in it, Baran sat in silence at her kitchen table. She had her phone in one hand and a glass of wine in the other and stared at the open conversation, anxiously awaiting a reply. 

Billy shivered as the breeze ruffled the collar of his jacket. Quickly shoving his hands under his arms, he cursed under his breath. Wasn't Mexico supposed to be hot? Even if it was Octo--no November now.

Agatha said she felt a massive influx of magical energy in this town, but then she fucked off to who knows where, and he hasn't felt anything.

Just as he was about to make a note about listening to the derangedly departed, he saw a flicker to his left. A cemetery, old and quiet but lively, by the dozens of families gathered amongst the stones. Something about the place drew him in, and he leaned against the wrought iron gates.

He was about to turn and head back to his hotel when a voice called out.

"hola, hijo! Entra, únete a nosotros" a man, maybe in his sixties, called and gestured him over.

"Oh, uh, no I don't...um... No habla....um" Billy stuttered in response, fumbling his way forward. The man met him halfway, pausing briefly to grab a small blanket and a plate with some kind of bread on it.

Billy's shoulders sagged in warm relief when the surprisingly heavy cloth was laid over them. The man wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed the plate into his hands.

"It's ok, hijo, but I appreciate the attempt," the man's eyes sparkled with amusement, "now, are you looking for someone specific?" He gestured to the stones, neatly lining the ground.

"oh, um.... Not, not reall--not here" Billy mumbled as he watched a pair of boys, clearly brothers, chase each other around the tables. The hand on his shoulder squeezed, and the man turned to face him.

"do you have a picture?"

Wordlessly, Billy pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of himself and Tommy. Upon seeing it, the man smiled sadly and walked them over to a quiet bench, grabbing another plate along the way.

"stay. Eat and remember him. It has not been long, he'll make his way to you tonight." With that, the man placed down what Billy now notices is a plate of tamales, and rejoined his family, pulling each of the running boys under an arm, much to their delight.

Billy sat for a moment, absentmindedly stuffing one of the bread rolls into his mouth. Pleasantly noting the sweet flavor. Just as he was about to return the blanket and thank the family, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and felt a surge of magical force. Whipping around, Billy just catches a flash of deep green and brown.

Jogging after, Billy stumbles to a stop as he rounds a mausoleum. Tucked back by a tree, was Rio, it must be. She was slightly different. He had seen her skull faced form before, but this form also had eyes that almost resembled pinprick eerie flames, hovering in the voids where her eye sockets aught to be.

But even more interesting was the boy perched in her lap. Shadows almost seemed to cling to his form, and from where he was, Billy could just about make out a skull, almost through the boy's face, like he had transparent skin. He was giggling as he smeared paint along the ridges in Rio's face, painting the details of a tragic, sad skull..

Billy watched as the boy pulled one of the sweet bread rolls from somewhere and held it up to the Death entity. He saw and felt more than heard her low chuckle, as power radiated out. Her mandible hinged open to take the offered treat, and Billy gasped as his mind was flung to his brother, to Mrs. Hart, Alice, Lilia, even Agatha.

Billy felt the air rush out of his lungs and his knees buckle as Death turned her gaze on him. The specks of green fire flared in what he can only assume is recognition. Her teeth closed, and suddenly he could feel sweet oxygen flow back in.

"Someone's here....." Rio's voice was low, and rumbled in the ground itself. She shifted, pulling the boy further into her embrace, almost enshrouding him completely in the clinging shadows radiating from her. Strangely, she made no other move. She didn't rise or turn to face him directly. She seemed.... lethargic, and distracted. Her eyes constantly shifting around, only settling on him every so often.

Billy watched as the boy gently cradled Rio's face and pressed a kiss to the top of the nasal bone. He then began untangling himself from her grasp. Her distraction ceased immediately, as her gaze locked in to follow the child as he approached Billy.

"you're Mama's new friend. Mother doesn't like you very much." His voice held mischief, and a slight echo. His eyes were intelligent, like he knew far more than his age should allow. He was grinning, which was made much more unsettling by the transparency of his skin over his skull. It struck Billy exactly who he was speaking to.

"You! You're--"

"Nicholas Scratch and you're the boy Mama actually spends time with. Come on, it's rude to just stare" he grabbed Billy's hand and began pulling him towards the sitting entity.

As their hands touched, Billy was suddenly overwhelmed by a flash of green, and the air around the jolted to life. Dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of souls crowded the cemetery. Men, women, children, even animals all seemed to flow out from Rio. Collecting near alters or standing with the families. Each one connected by a barely visible string of power back to Death.

Billy was held up with an unnatural strength as he stumbled in shock. As they got closer, Billy realized why Rio was so lethargic. Her breath was heavy, and labored like someone that had just finished a marathon.

".....This would certainly explain the surge of power....." Billy murmured as he turned this way and that, trying to dissect exactly what he was seeing. His arm was yanked suddenly, nearly tipping him over.

"Stand still, Mother can't see living beings very well like this" Nicholas has the petulant sass that only children seemed to manage.

"what is she doing?"

"She's bringing them home. Once a year, Mother gives a gift to the people that don't get mad at her presence by leading the souls back to visit. The gift of time." He paused for a moment, almost seeming nervous, "well, the ones that have someone to see anyway. When no one remembers you, then Mother can't find your string to pull you back."

Billy blinked at that. " What do you mean?"

The boy rolled his eyes, like it should be obvious," memories, they make strings, when the last person forgets you, your string breaks, and you're stuck on the other side." He gestured to a nearby dog, whose string was frail and flickering, " his owner's sick. This will be his last visit."

Billy almost winced even as he asked, stealing glances at Rio, though she didn't seem to hear them, "....and Ghosts?"

Nicholas looked like he was about to answer when Rio spoke up, still distracted and distant "I'm sorry my love.....ghosts don't have strings......" Her arm slowly rose to possibly pet the boy, but recoiled slightly as her hand instead touched Billy's arm. Her gaze gradually shifted eventually landing on him as the flames in her eyes flickered, ".....you? YOU!"

Billy flinched as she suddenly surged upright, shaking the ground and sending the tree roots up through the soil. The spirits around them seemed magnetically drawn to the scene, growing agitated and restless.

This is how I die. Thought Billy, raising his arms in a weak defense. It's not as though he could do anything to Death anyway. Just as he was sure that a tree branch was going to pierce his chest, or his lungs would explode, Rio grunted and seemed to collapse back down.

"Mother! No, you rest now!" Nicholas caught Rio and guided her back against the tree.

"No.... Nicky...., he can't take you" her eyes rapidly swung around the graveyard.

"Hey, hey, I'm not going to take him I promise! Agatha isn't here!" Billy lifted his arms and knelt down in an attempt to look as pathetic and harmless as possible, " Nicky was just.... showing me your gift"

"You.....you see him...."

"Yes, yes I see him Rio" Billy watched as she gently tilted Nicky's face to look at her. He then noticed something. Over the time they had been speaking, Nicky's face had seemed to gather more substance, his skull no longer visible.

"Mother, he knows me now. He'll remember." Nicky curled into Rio's neck, wrapping his arms around her, and Billy understood. He saw the thinnest string, this one a different, deep, green, grow ever so slightly more sturdy. Billy has memories of Nicholas now, and memories make strings, and strings lead you home.

Seemingly satisfied with his choices, Nicholas pulled part of Rio's cloak around himself and began chasing that dog around. Rio stared at Billy before she sighed and settled back.

"I won't forget him Rio. I promise"

She glanced at the phone in his hand, still opened to the photo,"Show me.....I have....a gift for you...."

When he turned the screen in her direction she stared for a long moment, then the pinprick eyes blazed as she glanced over.

Billy followed her, and there, leaning on the bench, downing the remaining tamales was him, he swallowed and looked up.

Emery had been more or less forced into taking vacation, (something something, costing the hospital money, something something, she hadn't paid attention to Gloria ranting, she was too busy trying to not give into the urge to strangle her after telling Miller she had no choice but to use her vacation days.) and she'd needed to find ways to kill the time. One way, she discovered, was baking. "It has taken me two days, but I think I have discovered a new way to feed my croissant addiction." Emery announces as Samira enters the kitchen. Their orange tabby, Otter, weaves around Samira's leg, meowing in displeasure at not being noticed.

Samira grins a teasing grin. "Oh good, I thought we were going to have to take stocks from the local bakery." She gives Emery a kiss before leaning down to scoop the cat into her arms. "And what is the matter, good sir?"

The meowing instantly stops, exchanged for purrs and soft headbutts. Samira grins, snuggling into him. Like a chain reaction, Emery smiles at Samira's smile. "He actually had his turn with the brain cell today." Emery snorts.

"You did?! And Mommy missed it?!" Samira peppers the cat's head with kisses. "This needs to stop happening when I work." "Don't give him too much credit. It was gone as fast as it came." Emery leans over to kiss Samira again. "How was work?"

"Long. Very long. I am very much looking forward to having the next 36 hours off with you." A meow of protest. "Both of you." Samira chuckles.

"Here, give me the boy, go get cleaned up. By the time you're done, warm and fluffy croissants will be ready for us to enjoy, along with dinner and some much needed quality time."

---

Emery's setting up the coffee table with the takeout she'd ordered when Samira descends the stairs, hair still damp at the ends. There's a semi-forgotten documentary playing on the TV, Emery not paying full attention but still getting pulled in and distracted at some parts. Otter lounges on the back of the couch, watching her intently.

"Why am I not surprised you've spent your off day watching your sharks and making croissants?" Samira hums, pulling Emery into a hug from behind.

"I am a simple woman. I love my cat, my wife, sharks, and croissants." Emery shrugs. "I couldn't have all four today, so I settled for three." There's a meow of protest at 'settled' and a soft thud as Otter trips from the back of the couch, landing on the floor. The next meow is an indignant one. Emery and Samira break out into laughter.

The first time Samira sees Edie do her job, they’re in the parking lot of a Target.

Emery’s standing on the loading bed of her pickup truck, pulling up the flat pack of Norah’s crib to load it in when some teenager’s souped up engine backfires and a loud thunk comes from inside the truck.

At first it’s like Emery’s disappeared into thin air.

From where Samira’s standing at the foot of the truck, she can’t see where she’s gone, but then Edie’s leaping up onto the tail and bustling forward across the deck, making her way towards the front to find her.

Samira has to stand on her tiptoes to see.

Emery’s lying down on her front, her hands clasped tightly over the back of her head, her legs nimrod straight.

She’s trembling.

Samira can hear her crying, tight little panting breaths that come out way faster than it should be and she can see her fingers shaking where they’re laced into her hair, gripping far too tightly, hard enough to pull.

It takes the black lab a second or two to get to her but once she finds her, Edie clambers onto Emery’s back and lays down, pressing her weight into Emery’s. Where she can get to her face, she’s licking and nuzzling against her cheek, her ear, the back of her neck, her fingers.

Samira watches for a second, sees how Emery’s shoulders stop shaking and her breathing, eventually, begins to even out.

She can’t get into the back of the truck in her condition so she walks around to the side and leans against it as far as she can.

“It’s alright, Em, it’s just a car backfiring.” She says softly. “You’re safe, you’re here at home. I’m here.”

It takes about five minutes or so but finally, Emery’s hands loosen and she slowly lifts her head to meet Samira’s eyes. Edie’s tail begins wagging.

“Sam?”

Samira reaches forward, her hand holding Emery’s. The skin is clammy where their palms meet, either from sweat or dog drool, Samira doesn’t really care.

“You’re okay, love. It’s alright.”

Edie gets off of Emery as Emery sits up, tucking herself into Emery’s side and waiting patiently. Emery scratches the little spot behind her ear.

“Good girl.” She murmurs.

When she finishes adjusting and tying down the crib, Emery hops down with Edie following closely. Despite herself, Samira leans down and presses a quick kiss to the Labrador’s nose.

Faris, Baran's ex, is a great guy. He's tall and handsome, a little bumbling but in an endearing way. She doesn't think she's ever met a better father and she deals with parents everyday. But it did hit his ego pretty hard when Baran came out to him.

He wasn't exactly thrilled to hear that his wife of almost ten years has decided that not only is she attracted to women, but she's not sure if she was ever attracted to men.

He left that night and didn't speak to her for three months. This isn't even the part that enrages Baran, but its the fact that he would only communicate through his mother.

Baran's eye twitches every time she talks about it.

But three months later Faris calls Baran after a long night out and reveals to her that he had his first bisexual experience last night that made him rethink the whole situation.

Now that time has passed, and lots of therapy has happened, Baran's able to laugh about it in the end.

She finishes her story and Trinity can't help but ask if Baran ever thinks she'll get married again.

Baran turns soft because, well yeah of course I would, if the right time comes around. Like it was a no-brainer.

Trinity, momentarily forgetting her audience, says, "I don't think I could ever get married."

Baran tries not to flinch at the statement, but Trinity catches it. "Oh?" She says instead, "Why?"

Trinity doesn't even know where to start.

Maybe her parents? Who argue constantly and aren't exactly a great example of a happy marriage. Growing up she had always secretly hoped her father would gain the independence he needed to divorce her mom.

She thought that at least one day he would stand up for Trinity. That he would fight for her.

She was wrong.

Trinity knows she gets her barbed tongue from her mother. She knows deep down that every insult is just a reflection of her mother's own insecurities. They both have a problem with going too far in verbal arguments. But that didn't change the fact that Trinity was a child and her mother was supposed to be the adult.

Or maybe its that Trinity doesn’t like the idea of losing her true independence, something she fought tooth and nail for from her parents. When she moved in with Baran and Yolanda (Yolanda moved in first because her lease was up the fastest), she had to practically beg Baran to let her pay rent.

Even though she already is paying for all the other things in her life; her car and phone payments, swim lessons for Farouk she signed him up for, plus the multiple streaming services that she lets Dennis have full use of even though she no longer lives there and Baran’s got her own accounts.

Even though Baran argues it is completely unnecessary, they compromise on $400 a month in addition to that she has to mow the lawn every other week. Trinity thinks she uses the money on groceries or something, and she’s pretty sure she was already going to do that last part anyway,

She loves her life and the way things are going in their little family, she wouldn’t change anything for the world.

But the idea of a wedding has the power to make her break out in hives.

She wasn't always this way, but then she fell in love with her best friend. Over fifteen years ago now, Katie turned to Trinity and decided that they would have a joint wedding when they grew up because obviously they were going to be best friends forever.

Secretly, little 8th grader Trinity hoped that maybe they would marry each other instead.

And then Katie died and took that dream with her.

But what actually comes out of Trinity's mouth is a defensive laugh and a short story about a middle school science teacher that once told Trinity that marriage is really only for tax purposes.

"And if you really think about it, she was right," Trinity says.

Baran stares at her with an open mouth ready to reply when the front door opens.

"Hello?"Yolanda bellows from the front door. "Hey we're in here!" Trinity calls back.

"Trinity." Baran begins, drawing her attention again, "you can't be serious," she tries.

Trinity shrugs, suddenly feeling defensive. "I don't know.. I've never really been interested in it. Isn't it really just a piece of paper?" It comes out as a question.

“You're not interested in marriage?" Baran reiterates, "then what the fuck are we even doing here?" She suddenly spats out, then guiltily looks at her glass of wine.

Sometimes the combination of her meds and alcohol made it hard to keep a lid on her emotions.

Baran never uses this tone with Trinity; she hasn't spoken to anyone this way since her argument with Robby in the ED.

Her eyes are practically on fire with how they burn a hole through Trinity.

Time stops for a second and Trinity can feel the bough break beneath her.

She feels like she's been burned and retreats into herself, adverting her eyes.

"-Woah!" They're interrupted by Yolanda who is now standing in the doorway.

"What the hell is going on?" She asks, looking wildly between her two girlfriends.

"Nothing," Baran says defensively. "Just a disagreement."

Trinity stands, meekly wringing her hands together, "I think l'm gonna. I think I'm going to go stay at Dennis’s.”

"No," Baran tries, suddenly realizing that her words may have been too harsh. She's still mad, but she hates it when Trinity retreats into herself. Hates herself when she's the cause.

She moves to grab Trinity's wrists to keep her there but the younger woman shakes her head and pulls out of her grasp. "Look, we can talk about it later." She says softly, tears in her eyes. "I just need to go," she tells Baran.