del :)

"Trin, look at me," She touched Trinity's face with her hand, eyes flickering to the wound on her thigh before back up to her head. Even with the stick still in the wound, blood was trickling fast down Trinity's bare thigh. Her thigh that was also bruised and had scrapes almost everywhere. Yolanda had to focus. She had to think.

Using her knife, she made a tourniquet with a the strap from her backpack. She pulled it as tight as it could above the wound on Trinity's thigh. It wasn't ideal. It wasn't wide enough and she had nothing sturdier to use than her fucking hiking pole.

Trinity cried out as she twisted until the blood slowed from a steady stream to just a dark, uneven seep around the wound.

"I know," Yolanda had hushed. It was enough that her hands had stopped for a half a second before she forced herself to keep turning. "I'm sorry."

Trinity's eyes were fluttering as she looked over towards Yolanda.

"What happened?"

"You fell."

Trinity tried to move before Yolanda could stop her and another sharp sound escaped her bloody lips.

"Do not move," Yolanda's voice was shaking. "Your leg is injured and your arm may be broken." She didn't mention that she wasn't sure if she had a spinal or neck injury and wouldn't risk moving her. "You have to stay still. Do you understand?"

There was no service where Trinity had landed. Yolanda screamed up for help until her throat gave out on the off chance that another hiker would come close enough to hear.

Yolanda inventoried her injuries over and over again. If she was in the OR or the ED or anywhere else that wasn’t covered in brush and rocks, she could do more. She could fix it. Out here, she can't do anything but scream for help and hope that the blood loss has slowed enough that she won't bleed out. 

When nobody came after another few minutes of yelling, Yolanda made a decision.

An awful, terrible decision.

"You have to stay awake," she had made Trinity promise before she stood up. Her hands held Trinity's face in between them. Her thumb rubbed against her cheeks. God, she was beautiful. Yolanda didn't want to lose her. Trinity was blurry with the amount of tears in her eyes. "You have to keep your eyes open, do you understand me?"

Once Trinity had promised, or nodded which Yolanda was taking as the same thing, she had to stand up. She pressed Trinity's hands onto the wound in place of her own and whispered, don't you dare.

Then she walked away from her.

——————————————————————————————

The whole trip had been Yolanda’s idea. 

It wasn't even suppose to be a vacation. Yolanda had gotten approval to attend a surgical conference in Denver and when she had realized that the hotel was paying for three nights at a hotel, she decided to add an additional three in the mountains afterwords.

"You could come with me," Yolanda had said to Trinity one night when they were making dinner. Or rather, she was making dinner and Trinity sat on the counter talking.

"To the conference?"

"To Colorado, I don't think they'd let you in the conference."

Trinity huffed in annoyance but Yolanda had just smiled in response.

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"Sitting in a hotel room while you are off with other surgeons will be fun? Do you even know how big your ego is going to be in place like that with a bunch of other surgeons?"

"You survive my ego at home just fine."

Trinity had just looked at her in the way that Yolanda knew that she was reading beneath what she was saying or beneath what she wasn't saying.

"You want me to come on your work trip?" Trinity had smiled.

"That's literally what I said." Yolanda had just rolled her eyes.

In the end, Trinity traded two shifts and met her two days into the conference in Denver. Yolanda skipped one of the speakers to pick her up from the airport. Trinity spent the last day of the conference sending pictures to Yolanda's phone of everything that Yolanda suddenly wished she was doing instead. Even Emery had turned to tease her about it the day before she arrived, "couldn't even leave your girlfriend at home for a few days to visit your old friend, huh?"

And maybe she couldn't.

But she didn't want to.

They made plans with Emery for the last day to hang out before they head back to Pittsburgh before they headed up to the cabin that Yolanda had rented out towards Vail.

Trinity had complained about the trial that she had chosen. She complained about the six am wake up to get to the trail just as much as she complained about the cold once they were on the trail. Trinity slipped her hand into Yolanda's whenever the path widened enough to let them walk beside each other. Yolanda didn't even mind the sweat.

By the time they reached the overlook, Trinity's complaints had quieted. It was a more beautiful view than they'd get anywhere in Pittsburgh. Only took 4 miles to get there, but as Trinity stood at the edge of the marked area, her cheeks pink from a combination of the uphill battle they had undertaken to get to the lookout and the cold and her hair pulled back into a ponytail, Yolanda knew exactly why she had wanted her to come in the first place.

If she had done this hike alone or with Walsh, she would have been thinking of Trinity the entire time.

She would have seen the view of the mountains and thought Trinity should see this.

That had started happening with everything.

She would hear a story during rounds or see something ridiculous on her drive home and her first thought would always turn to Trinity.

Yolanda thought of next month and Trinity was there. Next year and Trinity a little older, but still there. A different hospital or city or a house without Whitaker in it and Trinity was in each one of those visions too.

Yolanda had never pictured vows or rings.

Trinity was already built into every version of the future she allowed herself to imagine.

"What?" Trinity asked with a shy smile as she caught Yolanda staring at her.

Yolanda took out her phone to avoid answering and lifted it towards her. Trinity shifted and groaned out a "please, no."

She took the picture anyway.

Later, she would remember the smile on Trinity's face when she took the picture. She'd remember the certainty that settled inside of her that this was just the first of many.

There would be years of it.

She never realized that was just hope.

——————————————————————————————

It took nearly five minutes for Yolanda to claw her way back up to the trail. The slope had seemed steep when she was coming down, but climbing it with blood still sticky on her hands and panic in her chest made it feel nearly impossible. She almost lost her own footing twice.

After that, it was another fifteen down the trail before she finally got one bar of service. But it was enough. She was able to dial 911 and say things like twenty-nine year old female, fell off a cliff, femoral artery may be hit, tourniquet in place, going unconscious, along with every single geographical location she could think of before hanging up. The dispatcher kept telling her not to hang up, but Yolanda had done what she set out to do.

They knew where to find them. She wasn't going to waste time on the phone when she could be with Trinity.

Another hiker spotted Yolanda standing in the middle of the trail with blood across her clothes and hands and immediately came with to help.

It took less than 10 to get back to Trinity.

Her eyes were shut when they got back to her.

"No," Yolanda dropped to her knees with a hard thud and started tapping her cheek with blood stained fingers. "Open your eyes, come on."

Trinity didn't respond.

The other hiker dropped to her knees next to them, saying something about pinging their location with her GPS, but Yolanda barely heard her. Her fingers were already at Trinity's neck again, pressing hard enough that she was worried she would miss the pulse because her hands were shaking so badly.

It was still there.

Thready, but there.

"Trinity," Yolanda leaned over her. She cupped the side of her face in one hand, while the other checked the tourniquet. Trinity's hand had slipped away from holding pressure while she was gone. More blood had gathered underneath her despite the tourniquet. "Trin, I need you to wake up."

She pulled the hiking pole tighter and Trinity's body jerked and she finally let out a noise before murmuring, "you're not a very nice girlfriend."

Yolanda almost laughed.

"I'm going to be the worst girlfriend you have ever had if you close your eyes again."

Trinity opened her eyes finally. They were already blood shot; she must have hit her head harder than Yolanda thought. "You already said no to being promoted."

Yolanda didn't laugh.

Trinity blinked and looked at Yolanda like she was finally recognizing her. She could see that Trinity had started to shake as well underneath the jacket that Yolanda had draped over her before leaving. She wondered if—

"It hurts," Trinity's teeth were clenched together. Tears welled in her beautiful eyes and Yolanda wished she could take away the pain. She wished she could haul Trinity up over her shoulder and take her to the hospital herself. She wanted to put her on the operating table and fix her.

But Trinity had landed without Yolanda even seeing. She didn't know if she had hit her head on rocks on the way down or if her spine was even stable enough to move. She didn't know if her pelvis was fractured or any of the other horrifying possibilities that ran through her head when she looked over her injuries.

Moving her could make everything so much worse.

"Yolanda, it hurts," she cried out, her breaths seemed painful now. 

"I know," Yolanda brushed the hair away from Trinity's face, leaving a red streak across her temple. "I'm sorry."

Trinity kept losing color as the minutes past. The other hiker unfolded an emergency blanket from their own backpack and helped Yolanda cover Trinity with it without moving her. "Rescue says 20 minutes or less," she said quietly to Yolanda when Trinity's eyes kept drifting shut.

Twenty minutes felt like an impossible amount of time.

"I need you keep those eyes open, okay?" Yolanda pressed Trinity's cold hand between both of hers. "Come on, you have to help me." 

"It's okay," Trinity's words had begun to slur together. When Yolanda checked her eyes again, this time she could see that they were uneven. Had they been uneven before? Had she just missed it because she was so focused on the bleeding? Damn it, how had she missed that? Was there increased intracranial pressure? An expanding bleed? Something Yolanda missed while sitting right next to her.

"Tell me your name," Yolanda's voice had started to shake.

Trinity frowned.

"Tell me your name," she said, louder now.

Trinity stared up at the sky, "Trinity."

"Full name."

"Trinity Santos."

"Good, where are we?"

"Outside?"

The other hiker drew in a sharp breath.

"Come on, where are we?"

Trinity's eyebrows scrunched together and she said nothing.

"Come one, we're in Colorado, remember?"

Trinity's eyes moved slowly towards her. "Yolanda brought me here."

She nodded. "That's right, now you have to open your eyes again, okay?"

Trinity didn't move. Yolanda pressed her knuckles against Trinity's sternum, rubbing down until Trinity made a broken noise, opening her eyes for half a second before narrowing them at Yolanda.

"Stop."

"Then keep your eyes open," she knew her tone was harsh, but she didn't care. She needed Trinity to keep those green eyes open.

"Mm, it's okay," Trinity's words slurred. "Yolanda will fix me." 

Trinity was looking past her now, eyes unable to stay focus. She kept speaking as if Yolanda was somewhere else, as if Yolanda was someone else.

"I'm right here," she felt something inside of her fracture.

Trinity didn't seem to hear her. "Yolanda will fix me," she repeated, the words slurring together. There was something almost childlike in the certainty of the words. "She's a surgeon. She'll fix me."

——————————————————————————————

By the time the rescue team reached them thirty minutes later, Trinity had stopped making sense. She kept drifting in and out underneath Yolanda's watch. She'd only wake up when Yolanda would rube her sternum or sometimes when Yolanda would squeeze her hand and demand that she come back. She asked Yolanda if they had missed their flight and if Whitaker was still planning on order food for them that night. Twice she asked where Yolanda was while staring right through her.

Yolanda was able to slip back into doctor mode when they approached. The words came out clinical as she offered them the only version of herself she had to give them.

The rescue team were already crouched at Trinity's head with a light out, calling out stats back to his partner. "Trinity? Trinity, can you hear me?"

There was no response.

"Trinity." Yolanda tried this time, but still nothing. "She was talking to me a minute ago."

Someone held a hand out as she tried to get closer. "We've got her, okay? I need you to give us room, we're gonna move fast."

They placed a real tourniquet high on her thigh before removing the makeshift one that Yolanda had made. Trinity barely responded to the stimuli and that worried Yolanda more. They fit a C-collar around her neck and Yolanda could only hold Trinity's free hand and try to stay out of the way. Yolanda was forced to watch as they cut off her shorts and then her sweatshirt as Trinity just started really crying with soft pleases underneath it.

She could only press kisses to Trinity's uninjured hand and pray that Trinity wouldn't remember this. Yolanda wouldn't be that lucky, she would remember every second of it for the rest of her life.

"She's seizing," someone said and her world tilted sideways.

It lasted thirty seconds but it felt like the entirety of Yolanda's future was held in that moment. Trinity's body fell back in a way that was worse than the seizure itself. The medic by her head was already calling into his walky for the status of the helicopter and they started moving her onto the board.

It took almost seven of them to get haul Trinity up the thirty feet of loose rock that she had fallen down for the helicopter to even be able to reach them. The flight medic stopped Yolanda before she could get close to where the helicopter was circling above. 

"You can't come," he shouted over the noise.

"I'm a physician. You need to watch the tourniquet has already been on for—"

"I'm sorry, we only have space for the patient and the crew."

Behind him, they were securing Trinity down into the basket stretcher that they'd use to hoist her up into the air. She was covered by a orange fabric that wrapped around the entire stretcher. 

"I have to be with her," the words cracked down the middle. "Please, I need to be with her."

"You won't be too far behind us," the man promised but it didn't matter. How could they be asking her to leave Trinity again? "We can't even touch down here."

Trinity turned her eyes towards the sound of Yolanda's voice. She was strapped tightly to a board. Her face was mostly hidden by the oxygen mask they had placed on her, but Yolanda could see the panic in her eyes. 

"I'll meet you there," she shouted over the noise of the blades. She pushed past the medic, just to be able to lean to press her lips to Trinity's forehead, the only available piece of Trinity left uncovered.

If this was the last time…

She didn't let herself finish that thought.

"I love you," Yolanda said instead, her mouth close enough to Trinity's ear that she didn't have to shout. "I love you, I'll be right behind you. I promise."

Trinity's eyes found hers over the top of the oxygen mask. Her lips moved and Yolanda couldn't hear it over the engine, but she didn't need to. She'd know the shape of her own name on Trinity's mouth anywhere, no matter if she could hear or not. She had felt it against her skin, she had heard it whispered to her on nights where it was so quiet Yolanda thought she had just dreamed it. She knew every version of it coming out of Trinity's mouth.

"I know, I'll meet you there.."

The tears burned in her eyes as the hiker that had helped grasped her by the arms and started to pull her away from the medics on the ground. She turned, her eyes already narrowed and ready to lash out. "Let go."

"You can't-"

"I don't give a fuck what you think, let go of me."

She twisted in her grasp until she let go, but by then it was too late.

"No," she lunged forward without any plan and the hiker grabbed her again. "No, wait-" she watched as the basket that held her life was already off the ground. It was already starting to spin slowly against the cable and Yolanda was desperate.

She hadn't even gotten to see her face one more time. It broke something loose in her chest. She had spent her last seconds with Trinity yelling at some woman who was only trying to keep her alive and in the middle of that, Trinity had gone up without Yolanda getting one more look.

There was a UTV waiting for her at the base of one of the switchbacks that one of the officers said would get her back to the trailhead faster than walking. They gave her directions to the hospital and told her they already radio that she'd be following. They asked if she had gotten injured or if any of the blood on her belonged to her.

No, she thought bitterly. Every single drop of it staining her belonged to Trinity.

“Parker, thank you so much for coming with me. I know it’s kind of silly but–” Mel starts to stay for the umpteenth time.

“Mel, if you try to downplay something you obviously love as silly one more time, I’m not going to give you all the coins I win from the gaming village.” Parker interrupts gently, placing a hand on the small of Mel’s back. “Now, My Lady, where shall we travel first?” The senior resident asks chivalrously.

“Oh uh well…” Mel begins, completely thrown by Parker’s words. It doesn’t help that she had leaned in to say that to her. “I… I’d like to take you to a leather shop I like. I want to get you a belt since yours didn’t come in the mail on time.”

“Mel you don’t have to do that.” Parker says sweetly. 

“I know. But I uh I’d really like to.” Mel says, stopping their motion so she can look directly at the other woman. “Parker, I have really liked our dates and the time we’ve been spending together. You paid for the last two dates and your own ticket for here and tried to pay for mine and bought an outfit to come with me and drove. Buying a belt is the least I can do. But I would really really like to. The leather shop has a lot of beautiful pieces and I think a nice cool belt would make you look even more handsome than you already do, which is already very much.”

Parker looks at Mel sort of stunned for a long moment almost making the blonde fear she’s said too much. But then Parker takes a step forward closing the space between them to give her a firm but gentle kiss. As she pulls back she laces their hands together. She chuckles when she sees how pink Mel has gotten. “Okay then. Lead the way.” She says softly, giving Mel’s hand an encouraging squeeze. 

They make it there quickly and have been looking for about ten minutes when Parker and Mel spot the same belt at the same time. That immediately settles it and they make their way to the counter. 

As they leave and pull over off the main path Mel watches in quiet amusement as Parker realizes this is not a normal belt and has to be put on a specific way. She can’t help but giggle which catches the other’s attention. “How does this thing work?” Parker asks in faux frustration. 

“Here let me help.” Mel says with the faintest smile on her lips. She steps into Parker’s space and skillfully ties the belt. Her fingers graze over Parker’s stomach and hips as she gets it to sit just right on her waist. When Mel steps back she lets herself take a long look before meeting Parker’s eyes.

The older woman is looking at her with an amused grin. “You know you always said, even before we started dating, that you ‘didn’t have game.’ But I think you are severely underestimating yourself.”

“Uhhh… What do you mean?” Mel asks, tapping her fingers together in a rhythmic pattern.

“I mean, that what you did just now was extremely sexy and I will be thinking about this at random times for the next month.” Parker says honestly before stepping up and taking Mel’s face into her hands. “You have game, Baby. It’s just not like everyone else’s. But trust me it’s very effective.” Then she pulls Mel into another kiss. It’s deeper and in a different setting maybe Mel would be concerned about the PDA. But here in her outfit with Parker in hers at a place she loves almost more than anything she can’t find the will to care.

The rest of the day is amazing. They watch several shows, eat delicious food, drink good ale, shop, and win coins at the gaming village. Well Parker does. Parker wins every single game. And since Mel did not downplay the fun she’s having, all the coins are given to her as they make their way back to Parker’s car.

“Mel, I had a really fun time. This was super cool. Thank you.” Parker says as she opens the door for Mel. 

The R3 waits for the senior resident to get into the car before she answers. “Of course. Thank you for coming with. I used to go with Becca every year but I haven’t gotten a straight answer from her about it. She’s very preoccupied with her boyfriend so I can’t really be upset I guess.”

“You’re allowed to be upset that a person that’s been in your life since you were born has grown distant.” Parker says, like she knows how Mel feels.

Mel stays quiet for a long moment, internally debating whether she should actually ask what she wants to ask. She closes her eyes and sings the chorus of “Savage” in her head. “Wouldyoubemygirlfriendanddoyouwanttostayoveratmyapartmenttonight?” She asks at the speed of light, clenching her fists in her lap and ducking her head down.

There’s only a moment's pause before she feels one of Parker’s hands on top of hers and the other on her right cheek turning her to face the brown eyed woman. When Mel opens her eyes she finds that confident calm look that Parker frequently has. 

“Yes and yes.” The older woman says in a honeyed tone, letting a huge radiant smile come to her face. “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend and I would love to spend the night with you.”

“Really?!” Mel practically yells.

Gracefulness was a learned trait that morning Trinity had absolutely no interest in possessing.

It was much easier to stand at the window in her apartment, steam curling up into her face from her mug of Baran’s tea, staring without really looking at anything beyond the glass. 

Behind her the apartment held fast to its pocket of warmth from an early winter morning. The refrigerator hummed and ice shifted deep within its ancient bowels. The heat clicked on and settled into a soft drone. Beneath it all were Dennis’s muffled snores from the other side of his shut door and the stillness of her own sleeping bedroom.

Her gaze wandered from the slate greys of the dusting of snow atop the roofs and pavement of the city to the hallway, shadowed and vacant of life. Baran should almost certainly still be asleep, cocooned by the warmth of Trinity’s weighted comforter despite insisting she didn’t get cold easily. The memory alone tugged a corner of Trinity’s lips up before she inevitably burned them around the rim of her too-hot tea mug.

Hissing sharply she nearly fumbled the mug. Her right hand hadn’t really come back from that night in the parking lot. She could force it into submission at work, enough to convince patients she didn’t have Parkison’s in her digits, but Trinity was driving with her left hand, brushing teeth and combing hair and trying to figure out how to hold a fork with her non-dominant hand otherwise. The years of sending her knuckles through walls and into tree bark and punching bags and bastard’s faces had finally reaped her consequences.

One trembling useless hand lowered the jittery mug to the windowsill, Trinity shakily scrubbed the searing flecks of tea onto the front of her hoodie and sighed, squinting at the discoloration dotting the skin where the liquid had burned her. Not too bad, not even enough for an ice pack before work. Sometimes Trinity had to remind herself the scars slicing silvery thread over her knuckles were there when she went to sleep too, not some overnight upcropping of allergen.

Sighing heavily, she abandoned the tea and padded lightly over to the fridge, dodging the squeaky boards. Although Trinity’s appetite and eating habits had matured since Baran planted herself in her life, her fridge remained woefully barren a good portion of the time. The trials of two ravenous twenty-somethings warring over produce.

But there were eggs and orange juice used for cocktails, and there was a semi-stale loaf of bread in the pantry for toast. She flicked the burner on the stove on, and scratched her chin as she eyed the eggs.

A chin hooked over her shoulder and she huffed a groan.

“Woman, go back to sleep.” She shook her head and quirked an eyebrow at the hands snaking around her front.

“Mm-mm.” Baran inhaled Trinity’s hoodie scent with a pleased sound.

“So eloquent. I love that about you.”

“Mhm.”

“Jesus, baby, really. I’ll come give you a kiss before I go, I promise, just get back in bed.”

The fingers curled in a spurt of possessive energy as Baran nosed up the side of her throat, pressing pecks along the way. “How about now instead?” She rasped.

“Incorrigble. Your behavior is unacceptably inappropriate, Dr. Al-Hashimi, I’m shocked and disappointed to say the least—” but her tangent was quickly cut off by laughter as frigid fingers slipped under her clothing and she writhed to get away.

The kisses found her shoulder through the fabric, then a hand on her forehead pulled her head back to tip into Baran’s own shoulder so Baran could smother her with affection. 

“Bed?” But the plea had changed its meaning.

“Nope. You need to eat and then leave. Punctuality is sexy.”

And unto the world Baran’s word was law and so eat and leave was what Trinity did. After maybe just a few more kisses.

The fluorescent’s insistent dull buzzing was driving Trinity insane to the fullest extent. Whatever momentary peace she’d basked in before work was being drained out of her like she was strapped to a gurney getting her blood drawn endlessly.

Langdon corrected her chart from over her shoulder at eight am. Robby flicked a plastic glove at her head. Everybody else was getting all the good cases. Fine. That was fine. She could let a day pass in triage, she was an adult and Trinity wouldn’t implode simply because she wasn’t getting her way. Maybe it took a heavy breathing and clawing at her arms session in the bathroom whilst picture wreaking bloody revenge on Langdon in an alleyway, but Trinity regulated herself and shut off the testosterone in favor of her patients.

Monitors alerted even the most miniscule shifts to whomever they were attached, the gurney wheels rattled, the elevator dinged, and the fucking fluorescents droned on above her, and Trinity braced against the momentary discomfort with bitterness as armor. She needed a trauma to distract her, and luckily enough, Yolanda was near enough to bark out a “Santos!” and take her by the elbow to a bay.

“Thirty nine year old female, mauled by domestic canine. Significant blood loss on scene— we applied tourniquet to left upper extremity upon arrival. GCS fifteen, alert and oriented, answering questions. Tachycardic, two large bore IVs have been established, five hundred milliliters blood en route.” Princess repeated upon Yolanda slamming through the doors. Robby stood off to the side, squinting at the mangled carcass with his hands rubbing over the nape of his neck.

“Santos, get her talking.” He ordered, making a move things along gesture.

“Think the mo… the morphine’s kickin.” The woman gurgled as she narrowed her eyes against the bright overheads.

Santos attempted to get some more out of her, her name, her work, the current political cabinet, the year. But each response was sinking the poison of discomfort into her bloodstream. Hands working tirelessly over strips of fabric peeled from gruesome sections, orders flying like bullets around the two of them.

“Doctor–” The woman managed through gritted teeth, a slick bloody hand closing over Trinity’s.

“She— She’s not a bad dog. Can you—” She cut off with a groan of pain before forcing the rest out. “I need someone to make sure they don’t— hur–hurt her.”

“I understand, Marisol, we’ll look into that when we get the chance, but right now you are our primary concern.” Robby interjected.

“Doctor Santos, please. She was scared, she was cornered, I made— I—” Marisol lost her breath trying to spit out her demands, eyes rolling back. Trinity felt her own stomach drop, coated in layers of dripping blood, staring at some strange impersonation of whatever the woman used to look like.

Marisol fought back into her own body. “She’s a good dog. She’s a good dog, I love her.”

And the exertion promptly flatlined her just moments later.

Compressions fell to Trinity as Garcia shot rapid fire instructions to every resident and nurse crowding the bed. Trinity felt the ribs crackle under her pressure, all she could do was clench her eyes shut as a bead of sweat trailed over her eyebrow and her arms burned.

She counted them off. Garcia’s hand shoved her backward firmly when she lost track. 

Trinity’s wide glossy eyes stayed locked onto the woman in front of her as nurse Kim took over for her. At the first opportunity, at Kim’s first exhausted hesitation, Trinity all but pounced back to her chest with desperate fervor, heart slamming through her own ribcage like it was attempting to beat for the both of them.

She reached thirty, Garcia fisted a hand in her white surgical gown and tugged her back before she could keep going. The room froze in horrific limbo as all eyes turned to the monitor.

The flatline broke into pathetic start up pulses as Marisol’s heart writhed back to life in her chest.

Minutes later the gurney was shuttled briskly from the room for an OR operating room and Trinity barely even registered her back hitting the wall and the ensuing exhale as she knocked the breath from her own aching lungs.

Puncture wounds, lacerations, avulsions, the woman’s face— it all flickered graphically before her eyelids anytime she attempted to close them. Her breaths came short and raspy, her usually steady hands lost their stamina and trembled as her nails bit into her forearms over and over.

The dog was visible in Trinity’s mind's eye.

Someone’d mentioned it was a golden retriever, commonly dopey goofy loyal things, a family dog, a Hollywood poster dog. She bet that its amber soft waves of fur were splattered with Marisol’s blood, she bet its happy lolling tongue was licking over a snout layered with scarlet.

She believed Marisol, deep down, which was the worst of it.

Maybe it had eaten something from a counter, maybe it’d pissed on a plant in the house, maybe Marisol brandished the wrapper and sharply ordered it to its cage or bed or whatever. Marisol probably forgot she had multiple feet on the poor beast, and the poor beast probably forgot Marisol meant no harm.

Hands wracked with tremors, her bad hand smarting awfully, Trinity disappeared into the breakroom, shoulders hunched as she pressed into the counter as though she was only in there for some shitty stale Folger’s.

An EMT she knew by the name of Miguel had his arms crossed over his uniform as he detailed the scene to a med-student and Dana’s harem of nurses. The dog had been licking at Marisol’s face, whimpering loudly, lying beside her still body upon the kitchen floor, big sad eyes pleading with Miguel as he and his coworkers stormed the house.

So Trinity scrubbed a sterile hand over her mouth and let loose a shuddering sigh.

She knew exactly what was bothering her.

She saw the wine streaking down the wall from the shattered glass and then she saw the blood on Marisol’s body. Trinity squeezed her eyes closed and shivered out a low groan, and she saw her own knuckles crushing through the wall and into the tree bark and the crimson attached to the wounds. Her heart thudded and her blood pressure pounded in her ears.

The man in the parking lot choking on the bile and blood in his throat as she paced over his drenched body with two murderous clenched fists.

A fight between her and Baran over a month ago, some stubborn snapping on Trinity’s part, some slight condescension on Baran’s. Burning shame welled in Trinity’s eyes at the thought.

She didn’t even remember what Baran had said. She only remembered the look.

Trinity had flung a cabinet door closed and whirled on Baran, one half step forward, rage contorting her features. Then dropping entirely into a blank countenance at Baran’s flinch.

Just a few hours ago Trinity had been digging her nails into her arms and raking them down to lose herself in the burn, thoughts of her broken right fist flailing into Langdon’s smug face.

The violence inside her was bone deep.

The story of Baran’s own dog from childhood. 

That massive fuck had gotten it together, but after 28 years of living, Trinity was beginning to believe she never would.

Thick like rot in her nervous system came the hollowing truth:

Perhaps one day it would be Baran and not Marisol on that steel table.

It became clear what Trinity’s duty to her lover was.

“It’s not good?” 

Baran rested her fork against her own plate, inquisitive all-seeing eyes skating across Trinity’s still face with one quirked eyebrow, before pointedly darting down to Trinity’s untouched portion of pesto salmon. In truth, she knew it was perfect, as well as a favorite of her girl’s.

Trinity followed suit and wearily let her fork fall to her plate, eyes locked onto the grain of the wooden table she’d once mercilessly fucked Baran on.

Her soul gave an agonizing clench, which Trinity took to mean it was now or never. Now or the gurney.

Cowardice won anyways for the time being.

“Very good. Super tired, work was a lot.” She muttered after a pregnant silence, nearly wincing at how disingenuous it sounded.

Baran elegantly lifted another forkful to her lips and watched Trinity blankly as she chewed, completely unsatisfied. It was killing Trinity how flawless she looked. Baran had done her hair and makeup, worn Trinity’s favorite perfume of hers, gotten fresh ingredients from the market and cooked a perfect three course dinner. It was searingly painful, all the way down to the smooth white blouse Baran favored with three buttons undone.

Through all the venom seeping into every pore, Trinity raised her eyes to her lover to implant their final memories into her mind, even if the image would be blurred with tears.

“Trinity? Talk to me, my love.”

Her soul soured at the very word. What a cruel beast she was to allow this woman to dote on her for quite so long, knowing that Baran deserved so much better. Trinity flinched at the thought of Baran finding someone later on, as she undoubtedly would when Trinity left her.

It was ruinous. Maybe Trinity would have to begin a life of crime and snap the neck of any fucker unfortunate enough to take Baran on the dated Trinity never would again. It was quite an appealing idea, all of a sudden.

A hand went to cover hers with tender warmth and Trinity gasped and tore her own hand away as though a knife had sunk into the table between her fingers instead of the clutch of her love.

Marisol had held her hand, too. Moments before her body gave out. Garcia still hadn’t texted with news on the resolution of the case. Not a commonly good sign.

“Trinity.” Baran’s eyebrows raised, confusion flickering over her face.

Trinity stood abruptly, her chair legs snarling horribly into the wood floor. Somewhere outside the perpetually open windows, an owl hooted and the city carried on with its nightly sleepless rituals.

She took one staggering step back, another. Eyes unblinkingly latched to the closest thing to God Trinity knew. Chest heaving under her clean dress shirt.

Baran had kissed her cheek with a devilish smile and said “Change into the one I like.” when she met Trinity at the door. Autopilot had buttoned up a blue dress shirt with a white collar and slid her best rings onto her shaky fingers and done up the belt over her nicest black slacks. The finishing touch was the formal tie fastened around her throat. It all felt like a sinister farce on her part now.

Her posture was rigid, shoulders bunched up around her neck, Trinity’s bad hand curled unnaturally into a sore, uncertain half-fist.

She wanted the night breeze to soothe over her flushed cheeks as she sprinted down the sidewalk into the shadows and away from this apartment forevermore.

Baran turned back to her dinner only to calmly dab a napkin at her lips before joining Trinity on her feet, ignoring the way Trinity stumbled further backwards.

“Baran. I’m… I’m…” The English language evacuated Trinity’s stores of knowledge all at once as she desperately fumbled for the words.

“I have to go, Baran.”

“Is that so?” Baran tilted her head and surveyed the panic seizing Trinity before her.

“I’m— I’m serious. I’m serious.” 

Baran let her eyes slip from Trinity to the front door for only half a beat, unreadable expression back to Trinity before she could make a run for it. 

“Baran, I’m fucked up. There— fuck there was this woman— Marisol—” Baran’s gaze sharpened like Trinity had reached across the divide and slapped her, Trinity rushing to amend her wording, “Not— no no— at work. At work, a patient.”

The petrifying icy gaze did not thaw.

“Today. She— she got attacked by— by her dog.” Trinity was hyperventilating and she knew she must look pathetic. Some alpha. “Baran she— it was— it was so bad— I— I—”

Baran’s arms were gently reaching for her in an instant, sending Trinity catapulting backwards until she nearly tripped over the barstool at the kitchen island.

“Don’t come closer.” She choked out. Baran’s arms dropped.

“Her dog. Some— it was— her— her dog.” Get it fucking together you fucking wretched dog. You miserable, pitiful excuse for a lover.

“I won’t hurt you, Baran.” Trinity swallowed thickly, trying to force some frigid detachment back into her tone. “I can’t let you get hurt, not for anything or anyone, not for me. I’m worse than that dog, we both know it.”

Silence. Then,

“Stop.”

“Do you think I’m scared of you, Trinity?”

“I think the problem is that you aren’t.”

“What exactly about you should be so scary to me?”

“We— we both have seen me lose control. And what that looks like for the people around me.” “And I’m just like the rest of them to you?”

“What— no, what are you— I didn’t say that.”

“You think I can’t handle your emotions, Trinity?” 

“Baran, enough. This is not an argument, this is me telling you that—”

“That what, Trinity? That what? You’re going to hurt me, is that it?” Baran took a few steps into Trinity’s orbit until the frantic woman was faltering to get away. “Are you saying you think that because you had a bar fight a few months ago and because you can be impulsive that you’re leaving me?”

“Fuck— stop— stop moving. Don’t fucking come any closer, I mean it.”

“Give me a real reason. Why should I be scared of you, really?”

“I did tell you. I told you this isn’t a discussion, Baran, that I’m doing this so we— so I don’t—” “So you don’t what, Trinity? Do you honestly believe that if you ever put your hands on me I wouldn’t be able to defend myself? You think I should be scared of you? I think you’re delusional, Trinity, if you truly believe you stand a chance.”

“What the fuck are you saying?”

Baran swiftly closed the gap, one sharp hand shooting to grip Trinity’s jaw as her back slammed into the wall rattling the picture frames along it off to the side.

“Let’s put this to bed right here, shall we?” Baran’s velvety voice spelled only immense danger.

“If you think I should be scared of you, show me why. Help me understand, Trinity, because otherwise I will never, never let you go.” She growled. “You have my permission, eshgham. You get the first shot.”

Trinity spluttered, braced against the wall, terror overriding her better logic.

Baran wanted to lick that look off of her face and consume it entirely forever. Her special girl, desperate to be good, sacrificing herself in a ridiculous display of unnecessary valor. Oh, Baran would rectify this in record time.

“I’m not— I won’t—” “Are you scared you’ll lose control and hurt me? That’s why you’re refusing my dinner and trying to flee out of your own front door? That’s why you insult my competence?”

“Baran—”

Her fingers dug into the full cheeks and her eyes flared with intent.

“I’m not scared of you, Trinity. You’re no killer.”

With that, Baran’s free hand tugged Trinity’s up to her own throat, closing the cold trembling digits around her flesh.

“Squeeze, baby. Show me what I should be so afraid of. Fucking try it.”

Tears slipped freely down Trinity’s cheeks as she uttered a low sob, unable to move her burning bad fingers. “Don’t wanna.” She croaked.

“You don’t want to.” Baran repeated.

“M’ sorry. I’m sorry, Baran, I’m…” More sounds tried to recreate words but only dissolved into hiccups and tears.

And the ever gracious lover wrapped her warm arms tightly around Trinity and Trinity buried her head in Baran’s shoulders and got her blouse all wet until she’d cried every last tear out of her body.

That night, Baran had loosened Trinity’s tie and gingerly unbuttoned her shirt and pants, slipping her belt from the loops with careful reverence. She’d helped Trinity into one of her sweaters and Trinity fell asleep with her nose pressed into Baran’s scent at her throat, dried tears streaked down cooling cheeks, so wiped out she hadn’t moved once all night from where Baran cradled her special girl.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, more, God fuck me harder, yes—”

Trinity’s thrusts were downright cruel, pistoning with great intensity into Baran repeatedly as her head tipped back in the throes of pleasure. Sweat glittered at her hairline, beaded at her neck and trailed down her spinal cord, but she kept at it like stopping would kill her. Words soon failed Baran entirely and she was limited to a short series of ragged animalistic groaning.

Everytime Trinity fucked her lover, she was dragged just a little further down into the abyss of no return. For her cock to be milked relentlessly by soaking wet heat was one thing, the worship returned to her by Baran was another. They couldn’t pull off of each other, tangled ceaselessly in sweating steamy rutting sex that made Baran wince when she took a seat for days after, that made Trinity completely exhausted and spent because all of her attention and energy was devoured by Baran.

They were addicted to each other, for lack of a better term. And addiction was proving to be exactly the clinical description of what was happening to Trinity.

She lived and breathed between Baran’s legs.

In the morning she delicately prized Baran’s panties from her thighs and suckled into her warmth for breakfast. During her work day, (Her work day for godsakes!) Trinity ducked into a bathroom on the floor just above them because it was usually far less populated and had to work off the excess with her left hand for lunch. And for dinner she kicked Dennis out so they could copulate on the sofa, standing up and bent over the kitchen counters, the shower, the bed, the hallway walls when they couldn’t make it the next few steps. Victoria had once bought Trinity a large tub of 100 condoms as a gag gift after she left them at a bar to take some beta apart in a bathroom. 

Now she had to stick half her arm in the tub to reach them, her supply was rapidly dwindling.

Baran was similarly obsessed. The faces, the noises her special girl made that she had learned and catalogued and filed just right she could see them when she closed her eyes— well she worked through the aching that was abusing her full cunt to earn them time after time. She even began to sense withdrawal from the soreness itself, a day where she was walking straight was a day she had a mission to reverse that.

It helped that Trinity was bent on her pleasure first and foremost, the same Baran was back to her. The woman basically latched herself onto Baran’s clit like it was a full meal, but it gave Baran plenty of advantage.

If Trinity snapped at a coworker at work? Abrasive to a patient? Withholding her body from Trinity’s oral fixation would clear up the issue in less than 24 hours usually.

If Trinity offered insight that proved to be a life saver, if she made Baran dinner, if she knelt at her altar with those wide pleading puppy dog eyes? Baran’s fingers would thread through her hair and let her take what she needed.

There was nothing like head from Trinity, simply put. An ‘eater’ through and through as Trinity would say. Whereas once Baran might’ve balked at the very thought, she now doesn’t have to hesitate before letting Trinity drop to her knees in a bathroom stall.

So she grinds back into Trinity with a broken sound erupting from her lips.

The evening had gotten away from them. Simple chinese takeout eaten on the floor in front of the couch, curled against each other's sides shaking their heads in tandem at the useless characters in the slasher movie Trinity had put on. They never got to watch horror movies unless Kaveh was at his dad’s which was only three weekends out of the month.

Baran had intended to rock her babygirl back to sleep in her arms that night, but Trinity had gotten handsy while massaging Baran’s lotion into her legs and it was impossible to tear themselves off of each other moments later.

Baran had hungrily swallowed every drop of cum she could suckle from Trinity’s tip before so much as hooking a leg over her. Tongue gliding, fingers working, clenching, massaging, soothing, jerking. Lips pillowing gently, then taking Trinity whole and gagging over her with desire spurring her forward into oblivion.

Trinity’s rhythm was perfect and Baran was dying a slow pleasurable death arched back into her thrusts. Two hands were clutched into her hips tugging her back into each wet slap of intrusion. 

Trinity’s head was thrown back as raspy moans followed every exhale, Baran’s own moans chopped off by each punctuating pounding of Trinity’s cock.

With a tremoring groan they seized up as one, Baran up to her knees with Trinity wrapped around her from behind, fucking up into her with great sincerity. 

Baran felt it before Trinity did. It was completely unmistakable. 

Trinity came with a heavy moan, one hand gripped against Baran’s breast, the other still clenching her hip. Warmth exploded in Baran’s gut like fireworks, and even through the onslaught of her own staggering orgasm, Baran knew.

She felt the seed pump hot strands into her, lips parted around the shock, eyebrows pressed together, orgasm still rocking through her.

Her lover panted into her shoulder from behind, letting Baran go limp in her arms as she held the both of them upright, cock still twitching and spasming seconds into Baran without a clue in the world.

Still encased inside of Baran, they fell back into the mattress together.

Baran guided Trinity out of her and both gazes dropped to the meager remains of the condom.

Trinity froze, jaw dropping slightly as seed dripped down Baran’s inner thighs and painted the tip of her exposed throbbing cock.

Trinity Santos has been nervous before, that all consuming twisting of your stomach and tremble of your hands. She has been in gymnastics competitions she was sure would define her life before. She has sat countless med school exams that her future actually depended on. She remembers the fear with each new student rotation she did.

She is familiar with the concept of being unsure about herself, about a situation, and knows no other way than to just jump into it.

Which is why when Baran tentatively brings up Trinity and her son, Keyvan, meeting for the first time, Trinity swallows down the spike of nervousness and agrees.

“Just, maybe as a friend of mine to begin with. I’ve not- I’ve not done the whole introducing a partner to my son before, I’d like to make sure you two get along before having to explain all that. He still sometimes asks when his dad and I will be living together again.”

This is trust, this is a big step for Baran who for the past 5 months has insisted their relationship only existed when Keyvan was at his father’s. This is something that could break their relationship, all of it held in a 6 year old’s grasp unknowingly.

Still, Trinity gets it, the thing between them so new and unknown that there’s was no need to complicate it further by involving the light of Baran’s life.

But now she wants to involve Trinity, and that’s terrifying.

And even more terrifying is that Trinity is desperate for it to work, desperate for this kid’s approval so she can finally properly acknowledge the bubble of love that’s been growing so steadily in her chest.

Baran has given her ample opportunity to duck out of this growing relationship too, has stressed the point that she is a mother, and if Trinity wants to be with her then this is something she has to be willing to make room for.

Which is how Trinity Santos finds herself waving a little awkwardly in greeting to a 6 year old with a wild mop of curls and startling resemblance to his mother.

And she’s not even wholly sure how to interact with a healthy child. She’s used to sobbing and wailing and little hands reaching out for their loved ones, she’s used to distracting them so someone else can look at their injuries. She is not used to a 6 year old boy full of so much energy he’s practically vibrating in place.

He barely glances at Trinity, only waves hello in return when prompted, before he’s tugging on Baran’s hand. “Sharks first, māmān!”

And away Baran is whisked, Trinity following closely behind.

A steady stream of what’s that, and why, and how and where does it live and why is this fish red and that one blue?

On and on and on. It’s clear Keyvan is smart, ironically as they stand staring into a tank full of sea sponges, she thinks he’s quite like a sponge himself as he asks yet another question.

And Baran, bless her, who has so much knowledge stored up in that big beautiful brain of hers, does not have a great stock of marine wildlife facts to draw down on.

Luckily for Trinity she does. Courtesy of her best friend who always did gymnastics because she was good at it but always wanted to study marine biology because she loved it. And Trinity loved her.

So when Baran flounders the first couple of trickier questions, Trinity steps in, as best she can. Until at some point Keyvan stops asking his mother first and starts asking Trinity.

Trinity glances nervously at Baran the first few times he does it, unwilling to overstep, but Baran simply tilts her head in approval, smiles warmly and Trinity crouches down next to the boy so she can point out exactly what she’s talking about.

At the next tank Trinity leans forward to get a better look at an animal Keyvan tells them all a little hysterically, “He’s falling apart!” He looks up at Trinity with panicked brown eyes.

“No bud, he’s just moving houses. He’s a hermit crab, when they get too big they leave their shell and move into a new one.” Doesn’t really think about it as she reaches out to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly, swallows hard.

And Keyvan watches seriously, as if to make sure Trinity is lying, as the hermit crab lifts up into a new shell and wriggles backwards into it to settle.

“Māmān! Māmān! Did you see?” He asks excitedly. Baran laughs and nods along as he recounts the previous 60 seconds for her just in case she missed it from her place stood directly next to him.

“Don’t you wish we could do that Trin? Just leave it all behind when it doesn’t fit anymore.”

“Yeah but we’re not hermit crabs, are we?”

Trinity often thinks about what she would give to be able to go back to that conversation with her best friend. To agree with her and suggest they both run away there and then. That maybe if they had done that then the very next day her best friend wouldn’t be dead.

She’s zoned out staring at the little crab as it flexes its legs, she imagines it’s checking to make sure the new home is up to par with its old. Baran is still listening to Keyvan talk but she shoots Trinity a worried questioning look, and she shakes her head and smiles in response.

“You okay?” Baran asks quietly anyway as Keyvan peers closely through the glass at some seahorses in the next tank they get to.

“Oh yeah,” Trinity nods, adds when Baran looks at her unimpressed. “Really, I promise.”

Trinity can see the way Baran’s hand rises half way up to touch her, probably just to ghost along the small of Trinity’s back like she often does but she must remember Keyvan’s presence and drops it.

“I’m just going to run to the restroom, okay?” Is what she says in the end and Trinity agrees easily.

Keyvan doesn’t seem to have many questions about this one’s inhabitants but he takes great glee in running round to the other side of a big circular tank and staring through the distorted glass and water at Trinity on the other side.

She indulges him with some silly faces, before she loses sight of him behind some plants in the water and straightens up to head round herself.

She can hear his little voice raised indignantly as she nears. “-can’t hit the glass you’ll scare them!”

And then the sound of a little girl crying, just as she gets Keyvan into view to see a girl around his age wailing and a towering man standing over Keyvan.

“Look what you’ve done!” He snaps, “Don’t you talk to my daughter like that.”

And Keyvan shrinks back, glances over his shoulder and spots Trinity who is trying very hard not to let loose some choice words of her own and rushes over to her.

Keyvan tucks his face against her side, and she pulls him close instinctively.

“What’s your problem man?” She snaps.

“Your kid shouldn’t have been yelling at my daughter!”

“He wasn’t yelling, he was trying to teach your daughter not to bang on the tanks! Something you should’ve stopped her doing in the first place.”

Anger flairs hot through her and she’d love to lay into this moron but Keyvan is pressing closer to Trinity.

“C’mon buddy, let’s go.” Trinity decides, steering Keyvan away.

They find Baran as she’s wandering back from the restroom, and Trinity fills her in quickly. Keyvan is subdued, kicking his little feet against the floor as the pair of them talk.

Another look at the sharks cheers him up a little but eventually Baran calls time on the day, telling Trinity he’s probably just a bit tired now. Although the guilt eats away at her, certain that she’s blown her chance.

Since they drove in separately, Baran insists on walking Trinity back to her car. Keyvan is slowly perking up again too, rambling happily about all the animals he saw.

“Thank you for inviting me today.” Trinity says earnestly.

“Of course, thank you for coming.” Baran smiles warmly, Trinity wants to kiss her.

“Can Trinity come to my soccer game tomorrow?” Keyvan asks, squirms out of the way when Baran tries to brush back some of his unruly curls from his eyes.

“I don’t know…” Baran trails off and Trinity knows she would rather have a moment to debrief on today. If there’s one thing Baran loves it’s to have an in depth discussion about their feelings.

And Trinity realises she’s just going to have to make the decision for the both of them here. Maybe she’s being silly but she hopes Baran can see that this is her choosing her, her and Keyvan and everything that comes with it.