july 13th — 19th

Sometimes, Trinity wished that the ghosts haunting her footsteps were just another cliché metaphor and not a literal phenomena. They had one more time to clitblock her before she called the nearest exorcist for emergency relief.

"It's for the best, my dear. None of us liked her anyway." Trinity braced for the knife's edge of the translucent hand she saw heading for her shoulder. She stifled a wince as Naomi's attempt at gentle comfort sliced through her supraspinatus and into her subclavius.

"Yea, she was little… cold wasn't she?" Michael's meek murmur barely trembled its way above the muffled music escaping the bar's back door.

The horde of spirits intoned their agreement below human hearing. Chills wracked Trinity's frame. The whites of her eyes gleamed in the night as they rolled back.

"Fuck! You guys know I hate that."

"Sorry!" the newest arctic cascade was almost worse.

Trinity's patience flatlined.

She stalked out of her favorite dive bar's back alley and onto its narrow, crumbling sidewalk. The streetlights above her flickered as she passed. Just 15 more days until Trinity could hound city council—again—about the LED replacements supposedly scheduled for installation three months ago. A little bureaucratic chaos would really soothe her soul. A cheshire grin, stretching ear to ear, flashed across her face quickly hidden by the next dead streetlight.

Her trek home was punctuated by bickering in her peripherals, a mosaic of misbehaving lights, and an unseasonable summer night's chill. Fireworks boomed in the distance, people too impatient to wait until tomorrow night. Trinity would try again then, a holiday always made women more amenable to a charming smile, cold hands, and the voices that whispered just out of reach.

—

Baran thought communal bagels would ease everyone into her first day as PTMC's interim chief attending. Instead, they sat stale in the breakroom with their toppings crusting over five hours and ten traumas later while she was in a bathroom trying to hold together her disparate parts. She wasn't used to this anymore. It had been eleven long years since Death pirouetted to mothers' requiems through Kabul. The symphony of their wails and their children's cries echoes within every soul she collects. Death had merely tiptoed the VA's corridors, their whispers were almost soothing. Here though, the souls themselves danced toward Death as she stood still.

Baran stared in the mirror as the faucet hissed onto her hands.

Blink.

Time strayed.

Blink.

She looked normal, exhausted.

Blink.

Her skull stared back at her.

Blink.

Her skin had a home again.

Blink.

She turned the water off and ran damp hands over her curls, corralling them away from the frizzy knots they wanted to become.

Blink.

Baran searched the mirror for an anchor but found only brown skin stretched taut over a stranger's bones.

Blink.

—

Trinity Santos questioned everything on principle. Nothing was safe. Nothing was sacred. Especially not a shiny new attending who brought bagels; pretty, closed-mouth smiles; and A-fucking-I on her first day. Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi laid siege to every smidgen of self preservation Trinity possessed during their first introduction and she refused to call a surrender.

No matter how tempting it was.

Brenda Azurmendi would be dead without her, but Al-Hashimi brushed everything off as if saving someone from suicide was an every day occurrence. Like it was easy.

Trinity could never forget how hard it is.

"Anything else for you, hun?"

Trinity fell out of her reverie and looked up at the bartender. She really shouldn't. She was only two beers in after a few rounds of karaoke, but tomorrow was another day with a 6 AM wakeup call and Robo-Doc hovering over her shoulders.

"Sure, another lager, please."

The glass clinked down beside her as Trinity scanned the bar. The jukebox in the corner paraded a rainbow of lights over the drab interior. Fourth of July saw it emptier than a normal Saturday night as midnight approached, but a decrepit old white man had been sending her dirty looks for the past hour. Trinity guessed that telling him to piss off after he called her "a porcelain doll he wanted to take home for the night" may have upset him.

Oh well.

The door creaked open.

She felt the chill in the air before she recognized the person walking her way.

Baran Al-Hashimi breezed in. Her neat curls from this morning had doubled in size, the bags under her eyes could apply for a mortgage, and her brown skin somehow looked more sallow under the bar's dim lights than they had under the harsh fluorescents of the ED. Regrettably, she was still one of the most gorgeous humans to ever grace Trinity's sight.

"We think you should go for it."

Trinity risked a noncommittal hum towards Naomi.

"The good doctor. You like her. You should ask her out."

"What?!" Trinity reared back but tried to play it off by reaching into her pocket for her phone, "I do not."

"Trinity, today was one of the worst cases of a schoolyard bully pulling at their crush's pigtails that I've seen in a hundred years."

Before Trinity could summon a proper reply, in her peripheral, keys clanked onto the bartop next to her and hands gilded with veins moved the stool to make room for entry.

"Dr. Santos. I didn't expect to see you here."

Al-Hashimi sounded shockingly composed after their holiday horror of a 15-hour shift. Trinity tried not to take it personally.

"Dr. Al-Hashimi. The last place I expected to find our illustrious interim chief attending was a dirty dive bar in Mount Washington."

She failed.

"Told you."

Trinity sent a swift—hopefully casual—elbow towards Naomi, restraining a wince as the blade of her chill cut through her tricep and into her extensor carpi ulnaris.

Worth it.

She didn't know how to process the look Al-Hashimi gave her; head cocked thirty degrees nestled on a cupped palm, eyes narrowed, a tiny smirk highlighting the creases of her smile and apples of her cheeks.

"May I be blunt, Dr. Santos?"

"I can't stop you."

"That is not a yes."

"Nothing slips by you."

"Hm."

It had only been a shift but Trinity recognized that sound. She'd just ignited Inspector Baran's spidey senses that there was subterfuge afoot.

"Dr. Al-Hashimi, I—"

"Baran."

"Huh?"

"Call me Baran outside of work, Dr. Santos."

"Oh."

The ghosts' snickers told Trinity her face was doing something embarrassing. This was the loudest she'd heard Michael in the two years they'd been around. She would never live this down.

Her brain rebooted. "Call me Trinity then, I guess," she trailed off, unsure where to take the conversation. Susmaryósep, Baran hadn't looked away once, not to order a drink or stash her keys or give Trinity a break from being pinned by the two mahogany lasers that were carving initials onto her heart.

Naomi potentially had a point.

"Thank you, Trinity." Scratch that, Naomi scored the championship winning point.

Trinity clutched her Yuengling like a life raft. She tipped up the glass and chugged until it became hard to breathe, desperate for a few moments of refuge.

The resulting belch annihilated whatever brief win Trinity thought she'd earned.

Trinity died.

The ghosts died—of laughter, specifically at a pitch that shook Trinity's brain inside her skull and made her continued existence even more of a perpetual regret.

Baran's laugh pirouetted across the bar, dancing its way back to restore Trinity's mortified heart. As the last of her giggles trailed off, Baran's eyes focused lower.

"Wipe above your lips, you have something there."

"Here?" she brushed a careless thumb over her cupids bow.

"Not quite." Baran licked her thumb and leaned forward, smoothing over the length of Trinity's upper lip.

Trinity's face ignited. Her breath stuttered. Her lips tingled everywhere Baran had touched.

Baran hid behind her hands. Her voice came muffled beneath her palms, "I'm so sorry. Force of habit from my son, Kian."

"I- It's fine, Baran. Let's pretend the last five minutes never happened."

"Agreed."

Trinity tried not to melt at the eye peeking through Baran's long fingers.

She failed.

Again.

She could see Baran suturing the wounds of her embarrassment into her usual composure. She wondered who Baran was when the mask disappeared.

"My tab is paid off," Trinity's mouth was a runaway train approximately 30 seconds away from derailing. "Did you want a drink or do you want to get out of here?"

"And do what?" Baran's hesitance sputtered along the tracks.

She shrugged and added more coals to the fire, "A smoke break while we consider the failures of the human race?"

Why did she say that.

"Why did you say that?!" Naomi's slap went through her occipital and parietal lobes before slicing through her cerebellum. Trinity slammed her eyes shut so Baran wouldn't see the whites of her eyes in 4K and start asking questions. Hiding from her personal mosaic of fuckups was an added benefit.

"You're an odd one, Dr. Santos. Sure. Why not?"

The train had not derailed. In fact, it seems to have safely rolled into the station. Trinity resisted the urge to fist pump as she dismounted from the stool. Barely.

"You're lucky she likes weird, Trinity," Michael's stammer did not make the statement any less true. She flickered her eyes their way and gave an infinitesimal nod with a wry grin.

Trinity flicked the creepy old guy off one last time. She and Baran traded final farewells with the bartender. Their shoulders brushed as Trinity held open the back door, chills licked down her delts. They stopped a few feet away from the door, backs sentinel against the brick wall as their shoulders sat millimeters apart.

Trinity pulled a cigarette out of the pack, lit it. The first breath eased her shoulders, the second her head. She offered it to Baran.

One breath.

Two.

A third.

Tension—carefully shrouded—cascaded off Baran's frame in diminutive waves.

Trinity tried not to preen.

She failed.

Again.

Time strayed as they traded the cigarette back and forth. The silence—punctuated by sporadic fireworks that illuminated Baran and stole Trinity's breath—felt easy, calm in a way Trinity hadn't experienced in a long time.

Trinity stubbed the last embers out against the wall, crushing the filter beneath her sole.

"Can I kiss you?" Susmaryósep, Trinity was Sisyphus, rolling a boulder up the hill towards self preservation, common sense, and apparently a brain that intervened before her mouth butchered her facade of dignity.

"Do you mean it or are you drunk?"

"I want to," Trinity's breath trembled, "Baran, please."

"Then yes."

Never mind. Dignity was overrated, Sisyphus could kick rocks.

Trinity blamed her shaking hands on the ghosts' raucous drones as she cupped Baran's face and ran buzzing fingers along her jaw. This close, her skin wasn't perfect, marked by acne scars and shallow moles that dotted her left eye and the hollow of her cheek. Trinity whispered soft kisses over them. Everything tingled. She hovered over Baran's lips, trading warm breaths once then twice in the summer heat. Finally, they both leaned in.

—

t̞̀̀̐ͥ̕H̞ͣ́̕̕͞é̙͎̽ͤ̊̕

ẁ̲̻̀ͨͪô̢̨̧̦̜͔̆ͬͭR̢̮͒͑͏̷̱͍͉̋ͫ̍l̷̼D̸̯͙ͩ͜

b̥R͢o̶̢͉̜͉̾҉̶̢̪̝͒͛͜͠Ǩ̷̭͚̖̭̹͢͝e̓͏̺̖̱̳ͥ

—

Baran shattered, pieces of herself flung themselves into the ether before smashing back into place. Lightning licked through every nerve.

She collapsed, knees crunching against the asphalt. Her head flickered from exposed skull to smooth skin and back in her hands. She curled into a ball, doing her best to muffle screams of agony.

Time strayed.

Baran didn't know how long it took for sense to overcome the excruciating pain, but she could hear a round of fireworks dwindle in the distance. She lifted her head. Another round of knives stabbed her skull. The sky was still pitch black. The alley lights were still on.

She finally had the wherewithal to recall there was another person affected.

Trinity Santos huddled five feet away, blown back and slumped over herself with pieces of brick chipped around her. Lichtenburg marks muddled with crisp, straight scars glowed blue through her clothes, particularly concentrated on her upper torso. Her head was a maze of temporal, writhing cerulean hues winding together in an unceasing mass.

Baran's heart stopped.

She crawled over to Trinity, every shift of her weight sending a new wave of agony. She hovered over her, scared to make contact.

"Tri—", her voice cracked. She cleared her throat with more of a wracking thrum than anything with force.

"Trinity," she tried again.

Nothing.

"Trinity."

Still no movement.

She tried to muster her normal edge. "Dr. Santos!"

Trinity jerked awake, green eyes hazy and dilated as she squinted at Baran. Her head titled to the side.

"Is it just me or is Skeletor sharing Baran's face?"

Confusion lanced up Baran's spine.

"Who are you talking to, Trinity?"

"My friends."

"What friends?" Baran scrambled to find her phone but pain still tried to drown her in its undertow and it took everything she had to focus on Trinity.

"Them." It looked like she tried to make a sweeping gesture, but her arm rose 4 inches into the air before dropping with spasms back into her lap. "Oopsy."

She peered around, head lolling whenever she tried to move too far in a direction. The furrows in her brow deepened every passing second.

"Naomi?"

"Michael?"

"Xae?"

"Everyone?"

Baran's heart sank to her stomach. She lifted a trembling hand in Trinity's direction before snapping it back down to her lap.

"Azizam, those people don't exist. You've only talked to me tonight."

"No," Trinity slurred, "you don't get it, Baran. They're real, it's just that no one else can see them."

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"I know you are." Baran's voice shook more than her hands at this point. Her phone was missing—probably the agonizing five feet away she woke up at—they both had severe concussions, and it was some undetermined time in the wee hours of a major holiday.

"You don't believe me."

"I do, Trinity."

"You don't, but that's fine. No one ever has." Trinity reached out a quivering hand, wrapping it around Baran's wrist. They both braced. Nothing happened. No new shocks or explosive reactions. No new pains, aside from their bodies' physical aches. No new anything. Just warm, alabaster skin riddled with bioluminescent scars against warm, brown skin that oscillated with bones cool to the touch.

Baran shuffled to sit next to Trinity. They made a home of each other's shoulders.

"I don't know what's happening, Baran," even pain-addled, Baran's name on Trinity's tongue brought a measure of comfort, "and I don't think we're going to figure it out tonight.

"Just sit with me. Here. Now. Until the sun rises."

So they did.

__

Death's pirouettes [gif from Netflix's Love Death & Robots s3e9]:

“I’m not talking shit, I’m just frustrated!”

“oh, no. you’re definitely talking shit.”

mel’s cheeks grow warm, go bright pink, and she hurries out of the locker room with her gym bag. she doesn’t want to be known as a gossip, doesn’t want to cause any problems, even though it’s true that trinity pisses her off.

mel lies in bed that night and replays practice in her mind, because sometimes recalling old games and practices helps her fall asleep. she thinks about the defining moments of this particular practice: trinity’s argument with their coach, trinity getting more winded after warmups than usual, how trinity looked in her new shorts…

all of it has to do with trinity. and that confuses mel, because she doesn’t know why she can’t remember anything else but trinity, how trinity played, what trinity did. it’s like the world itself spins for trinity.

and mel doesn’t like it one bit. because trinity is mel’s worst nightmare: rough on the pitch, bad at following the rules, and exactly the type of person mel hates having on the team.

Yolanda knows she’s in deep when Baran takes out a second harness after getting Trinity’s set with hers. The surgeon instinctively goes to get out of the chair to help her but is immediately reminded by the leather cuffs on her ankles and wrists. Baran of course immediately notices and smirks. 

“See Asalam, I told you the cuffs were needed.” Baran says lowly, looking over at Trinity. The youngest nods at her. But neither of them even cast a quick glance at Yolanda who’s already feeling desperate as she looks between them. 

Her eyes follow Baran to the closest and her mouth goes dry. She's putting on the strap that she normally fucks Trinity with. That's hers to fuck her girl with. The one she's been using since before they all got together. 

“Baran what the fuck? That's mine.” Yolanda growls trying to stand yet again, but this time with more force and she nearly sends herself and the chair sideways onto the floor. Baran and Trinity yet again don't cast a glance at her. She's three feet from the right side of the bed in a kitchen chair. Her ankles have about two inches of wiggle room and her hands are shackled behind her back with an extra chain that connects to the bar at the bottom of the chair. 

Baran doesn't spear Yolanda a glance as she approaches the foot of the bed. “Spread your legs for me Trinity.” Baran softly commands. The younger woman immediately complies with a sigh. “That's a good girl. You warmed up like I asked?” She nods and the attending smiles. “Very good.” She climbs onto the bed and crawls slowly up. 

“Baran, take off that strap!” Yolanda demands, pulling at her restraints. “It's mine! It's fucking mine!” Yolanda's voice getting louder and somewhat frantic. That's hers for her to fuck her good girl with. To make her see stars. Hers. Hers. HERS. “Trinity, close your legs right now!”

Her demands of course ignored. This is what they agreed to. Yolanda wanted this. She wanted to give up all power. Have no choice unless she said ‘red.’ They laid most things out with certain things like what exactly Baran and Trinity would be doing together was left out to intensify the feeling of helplessness.

And now she's facing that mystery head on. Trinity only opens her legs wider while Baran steps between them. It's just then that Yolanda notices the lube in Baran's hand. She puts some in her hand, pumping the strap around her hips and all three women moan. The moans only grow louder when Baran applies more to her hands and takes hold of Trinity's strap doing the same. 

“Fuck Baran!” Trinity whines. She reaches out and takes a hold of the oldest woman's hips. “In please I've been good please.” She begs.

“You have been such a good girl for me. Waiting so patiently while I got our guest set up.” Baran coos.

“Guest?!” Yolanda yells. She immediately tries to break out again. But the restraints are solid. Definitely worth the pretty penny they paid for all three of them to have a set of their own. A whimper slips past her lips. “Baran please. That's mine.”

Baran answers her by lining the strap up to Trinity’s cunt and pushing in. The youngest’s back immediately arches off the bed as she moans. “Bee. Fuck feels so good.” She whimpers.

“That's good Baby, I'm glad.” Baran hums as she takes the hand that was guiding her strap and wraps it back around Trinity’s. “You're going to let me play with your cock while I fuck you right sweet girl?”

Trinity just nods at first but as soon as Baran slows her hand she finds her voice in the form of a whimper. “Yes. Fuck yes please. Please please.”

Baran just hums as she bottoms out. Trinity keens and the attending responses by pulling out just a bit and slamming back in making the R3’s back arch harshly. “Baran!” She cries.

Yolanda watches on as the oldest sets an intense pace, slamming into Trinity like she might never get to do this again. “That's right Asalam, it's just you and me. I'm gonna take care of you.” Baran says, breath heavy, as her hand sinks up with her hips. 

Trinity lets out a sob that Yolanda knows as her being fully consumed by the pleasure coursing through her body. The surgeon remembers that Trinity also has a grinding pad on. She sees tears roll down Trinity’s temples and if she could she would saw her hands and feet off to be able to lean over her younger girlfriend and lick the tears away. 

She moans, rutting her hips against the chair but no relief comes. Baran stripped her so she couldn’t find friction with her underwear. “Baran.” Yolanda gasps. “Please let me out. Let me sit behind her please.” She begs.

Baran must take it a sign to fuck their younger girlfriend with even more fervor. She lets go of Trinity’s strap while keeping the pace of her hips and pushes her other woman's legs up toward her chest. “Hold your legs for me, pretty girl. ‘m gonna make you forget your name.”

Trinity manages a whine and nods, tears flowing like a river. Baran leans down and licks at the tears. “So pretty when you cry for me. When you take me so well like the best girl. My good girl.”

It's then that Baran casts a quick knowing smug glance at Yolanda. “All mine.” She growls before bringing her full attention back to Trinity.

“All yours!” Trinity cries.

Baran sets herself up straight again and becomes frenzied. She takes hold of Trinity's strap again, stroking it so her fist slams against the base. 

“Baran! I–I–I PLEASE!” Trinity screams.

Baran moans in response. “You gonna cum for me, Babygirl? Gonna cum on my cock? Gonna make a mess of my sheets?”

“Yes YES please!” She begs. 

Baran says nothing else and just keeps her frenzied pace while Trinity moans, babbles, and begs for the oldest woman. The sound of their skin slapping together is absurdly filthy and Yolanda wishes she could record it. The oldest woman just watches, mouth opens in awe of the woman under her completely falling apart. 

Yolanda’s not sure how long it's been but suddenly Trinity starts to shake. “Cum for me baby. Cum right now.” Baran commands.

The youngest doesn't disappoint as the grip on her legs give out and her back snaps up in an almost impossible way. Her mouth is open in a silent cry for a few moments before an obscene, loud moan slips past. Yolanda watches the space where their bodies meet and sees cum splashing up onto both their stomachs. She'd give a kidney to clean them with her tongue. 

“Good girl. My best girl.” Baran says over the noise, letting the strap go so she can keep her pace and lean over Trinity. “Stay with me Baby. I'll slow down in a minute.” She says before crashing their lips together. 

A whine leaves Yolanda's lung and her hips strain for anything to relieve the ache between her legs. “Baran, please let me out. Please.” She nearly sobs. 

She's ignored again and she's stuck listening to the wet sounds of their skin slapping together and watching them melt into one another.

Baran's hips slow as she pulls away from the kiss. She looks down at Trinity with all the love in the world. And then her face quirks into a hungry smirk. 

Yolanda's mouth drops open as Baran undoes her harness but leaves the strap in Trinity. Then she rises up and climbs until her cunt is hovering over Trinity’s strap. 

“We're gonna cum together now, okay Baby? Then we'll go get cleaned up.” Baran coos. As soon as Trinity nods, Baran sinks down onto the strap all the way to the base. “Fuck, Baby. I'm so full. Now you lay back and let me ride you. I've got you.” Trinity can only nod again.

Baran smiles down at her and lets loose. She rides Trinity with a vigor Yolanda's not sure she's ever seen. Both women let moans and whimpers rip from their lungs as they build to an orgasm together. 

Yolanda has accepted her fate but still ruts her hips like a mad woman, matches Baran's speed. She moans with them hoping they'll look at her. Trinity almost does when she moans extra loud but Baran just grabs her jaw, keeping it so they only see each other. 

“If our guest wants to cum she'll figure it out, Asalam. She doesn't need your attention.” Baran says condescendingly, and it makes both Trinity and Yolanda moan again.

Yolanda keeps going. Watching. Moaning. And suddenly she feels it. A slow building warmth in her stomach. Oh my god. She watches Baran hips jack up and down on Trinity and it's the hottest thing she's ever seen. The way both their tits bounce with the force. The sounds they make. They're her perfect girls. They're hers. Even if they're pretending right now that they're not. The warmth keeps building along with them.

“Fuck!” They all say in unison.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Yolanda whines as her thighs start to shake with fatigue. “Fuck, you two are so beautiful it's gonna make me cum. Fuck please cum so I can please. Please, I need it please!” She begs as tears roll down her cheeks. “Please.” A sob following after.

Both Trinity and Baran moan and the woman on top drops her head back. “Let's not keep our guest waiting, Baby. I want you to cum in 3… 2… 1.” Baran commands. 

Yolanda knows the count down was for Trinity, but tell that to her attention and touch starved brain. Her clit throbs and her core clenches around nothing as her orgasm ripped through her body. A cry of relief soars out of her and her head falls forward. Her ears are ringing and her eyes are squeezed shut as her body shakes. She feels tears falling onto her bare thighs. I need them. I need them so bad. I just want them to look at me. Please be looking at me when I look up. Please. 

But before she can raise her head she feels her chair being moved forward. 

Her head shoots up and finds Baran reaching out to her. A gentle hand finds her cheek and wipes at the tears. Another hand finds her knee and her eyes find a very blissed out Trinity smiling at her.

“You did so well, Azizam.” Baran whispers, leaning in to kiss Yolanda gently. When she pulls back just a bit she softens more before leaning back in, this time letting her tongue collect the tears that are apparently still falling. “How about all three of us go get cleaned up and then go cuddle on the couch?”

Something prickles in Cassie every time Victoria takes her photo. At first, she puts it down to generational difference. When she was Victoria's age nobody had a camera glued to their palm 24/7. Photos were organised affairs for special occasions or happened when somebody bothered to remember their camera. The need to photograph even the simplest things wasn't ingrained into Cassie the way it was to her younger girlfriend. Then she thinks about Victoria's life and how she was raised on a non-stop, relentlessly pressured schedule. It didn't allow much space to take things in and appreciate them, so why not capture everything to savour later. Cassie doesn't care that Victoria snaps a photo of brunch before she eats or makes TikTok videos in the spare room. Cassie only gets tense when the camera is focused on her. Unfortunately, she's Victoria's favourite subject.

~~

My cute little pumpkin 🎃🖤🎃🖤

Cassie is staring at a selfie Vic has sent. They'd taken it mid shift in the run up to Halloween. Someone had decorated the staff room with plastic pumpkins, paper ghosts and a cauldron of cheap candy. Cassie has one of said pumpkins balanced on her head, the photo catching her mid laugh. Victoria has a set of gummy strawberry flavoured fangs jammed in her mouth pretending to bite Cassie's neck.

Though the memory is fun, Cassie does not think she looks cute. Cassie sees a woman too old for the girl next to her. Cassie's mind overlooks how happy she is to fixate on the deepening lines by her eyes and the bags below.  She zooms in, checking for the wrinkles she’s bombarded with ads promising to solve. She looks at how Victoria glows and sees herself sunken, her skin dulled and split ends long due a trim. She zooms in to her teeth and curses her teenage self for never wearing her retainer brace properly or learning to laugh more ladylike. She zooms back out and trains her eye on the wispy baby hairs escaping Victoria’s ponytail. Victoria looks cute.

Can bite me anytime xxx

~~

Cassie had spent the morning finally fixing the leaky kitchen tap. The sleeves of her flannel pushed up over her elbows and her hair thrown up out of her way. Victoria had sat at the breakfast bar watching Cassie tinkering, legs swinging in knee high fluffy socks Cassie had bought her. She's half watching a video on her phone and sipping a coffee, but her eyes keep wandering back to Cassie. She looks fit and for the first time ever Victoria understands why so many pornos start with handymen and plumbers. Watching her do simple manual tasks is oddly arousing, the way her hands are agilely working.  Cassie is deep in concentration, approaching any job like operating. Her lip rolls between her teeth as she bites it in concentration. Victoria can't help but sneakily capture the moment with a photo.

Later, when she's showing Cassie pictures from her night out with Trinity, she swipes too far and flashes Cassie a glimpse of the incriminating photo. She sees how her girlfriend freezes and instantly feels guilty.

"I’m sorry. I can delete it... it’s just you looked um kinda hot."

Cassie doesn't know what Victoria could see in her scruffy appearance and goofy concentration face that's hot. Yet the idea that she'd wanted to commit the scene to a photograph intrigues her. What did she need to save it for? It’s amusing to think of Victoria sitting pretty and getting hot and bothered. Even more enjoyable is the idea of Victoria pathetically trying to get herself off to pictures of Cassie doing handywork.

"Keep it....But you don't need a picture when I'm right here."

Victoria launches herself onto Cassie with such force and neediness Cassie gets a sense of just how hot Victoria thinks she looks doing DIY.

~~

They'd spent the afternoon in the park with Harrison, making the most of the last days of autumn and a shared day off.  Harrison's reaching the age where Cassie's grateful any time he agrees to be in public with his mother. Victoria had left them to mom-son time playing in the crisp leaves. She planted herself on a bench, sipping pumpkin spice latte and watching Cassie revert to a kid, troubles carried off in the autumn breeze. Running after Harrison with her arms outstretched there’s not a hint of the exhausted doctor who dragged herself home last night. Victoria saddens briefly, her mom never played around like that. Cassie's hair matches the burnished browns and oranges of the leaves she throws up in the air. Harrison kicks a pile of leaves round her, which makes Cassie laugh as she grabs him into a hug. Victoria sees the love between them, how carefree they both look pushing each other into a fat leaf pile. She snaps a picture to show Cassie later.

Cassie's brain short circuits when she sees the photo. It overlooks Harrison's beaming smile and begins rhyming off a well-read list of her failures as a mother. It shows her pictures of Harrison's early years, stained by the presence of Chad and her patchy sobriety worn in her gaunt face and anxious smile. Reminders of all the let downs her little boy has suffered.

"It looked like you guys were having the best time." Victoria explains.

A different part of Cassie's brain takes over then. The fresh memories of the afternoon baking into her mind, warm and sweet like pumpkin pie. Harrison had laughed with her, letting her hug him and ruffle his hair. She doesn't know how many more times he will before that’s decidedly uncool. Her job saps so much from Cassie she worries she'll forget how to smile as well as cry. Some days she looks at Harrison and only sees the terrible things she knows can happen to kids and feels sick with worry. Today, she'd watched him scatter leaves over her head, and felt only a surge of the special kind of love she felt the first time she held him. He told her he'd had fun, that he likes hanging out with her and she feels endlessly grateful that he does despite all the bumps they've been through. He said he liked hanging out with Victoria. That meant a lot to Cassie. A lump catches in her throat looking at the photo and hoping one day there'll be family photos of the three of them. Maybe with a cute dog, like the one Harrison and Vic had met and gushed over earlier. Maybe a new addition with Victoria's big brown eyes. Cassie pecks a kiss on Victoria's nose.

"We really were!"

~~

There's a gaggle of staff round the notice board in the break room. Curious, Cassie squeezes in to see what the excitement is all about. She wishes she hadn't bothered. It’s a glossy group photograph from last week’s gala dinner. Cassie wishes she hadn't gone in the first place, but Dana insisted. Cassie barely recognises herself in the picture. The mask of makeup and floor length gown look so unnatural on her. Her posture is visibly stiff and awkward. It’s like looking at a bad wax work of herself. Cassie had hardly felt like herself that night. Every interaction was steeped in pressure to make a good impression with whatever big whigs were milling around. She'd tried to sheepishly trail behind Dana and let the older woman do all the charming and chatting. It done little to distract her from the way her dress itched and shoes pinched her feet. She should have worn a suit.

"Woah Javadi looks a million bucks!" Princess points out excitedly to Perlah who gives Cassie a knowing look.

 Victoria had indeed looked gorgeous. Cassie would happily cut Victoria out the photo to keep in her wallet (and away from med students wandering eyes.) At Cassie's suggestion she'd left her natural curls flowing, framing her deep smoky eye makeup beautifully. The burgundy of her dress was offset by the glow of her skin, a slit running high up the skirt nearly made Cassie drool. When the others have cleared out Cassie inspects the photo more closely, deliberately avoiding her own image. She looks at the boldness of Victoria's outfit, such a contrast to how the younger woman had confessed to feeling that night, surrounded by people who knew her parents and remember her as a diaper clad toddler. Cassie had kept her distance all night, afraid of setting tongues wagging about the two of them. It meant fighting her instinct to swoop in whenever she spotted Victoria stuck in a conversation or grab her hand when Vic started to fidget nervously. All in all, it'd been a night to suffer through until the first opportunity to bail came along. Cassie and Victoria had dashed to the coatroom and fled before anyone could try tempting them to stay.

Running down the street, hand in hand, with her painful shoes in her hand Cassie had felt like a teenager ditching prom. They sped up when the drizzle of rain descended, diving into the first fast food joint they saw. Sliding into a booth, laughing wildly made Cassie feel more like herself than she had all night. Victoria shoved a handful of fries into her mouth.

"So much better than those canapes." She groaned as she chewed.

The rain had brought a wild frizz to her curls, and her lipstick had smudged round her mouth. Cassie watched her, slurping on a milkshake and stealing fries to dip in it, which Victoria always tells her is gross. Victoria had taken a selfie to send to Dennis, bragging that she'd escaped whilst he was being paraded round by Robby. They look a little rougher round the edges, Cassie's mascara smeared from rubbing her tired eyes, Victoria's lipstick replaced by residual traces of barbeque sauce. Cassie liked that much better than the photo before her now.

~~

Victoria took her favourite photo of Cassie almost by accident. They'd been waking up slowly, talking in sleep coated voices about small silly things that made them laugh. Vic had reached for her phone right as Cassie had sat up, stretching in the first sun of the day.

"Don’t move!" She'd snapped the photo and tossed her phone back on the bedside before Cassie could even register. Cassie's hair was stuck up in more than one place, live with static from her pillow, even more falling in her than usual. Her eyes still hooded with sleepiness as she tried to urge her body to life. With her head tipped back, the sun beams caught on the chain round her neck. She looked soft.

"What are you up to?" Her voice is softer too, tempered by the tiredness that hasn't faded yet. Victoria climbed over to settle over Cassie's lap and takes her head in her hands.

"You're cute in the morning." Cassie chuckles deep in her throat while Victoria kisses her forehead.

"So you just had to get a picture?"

"Sorry." Victoria's eyes cast downward but Cassie's quick to raise her chin. "If it makes you happy, I'm happy."

Cassie tries to remember that when she notices the photo is now Victoria's phone background. Cassie can't think of anything uglier than her half-awakened face and stomach peeking out from her sleep shirt as she stretches. Seeing it makes her suck her breath in, pretending her abdomen was still as flat as it once was. She tries not to pine for a body long gone. The one she has now is healthier, clean of the poision she once relied on. Its grown and carried her baby. It’s worked a lot of hospital shifts and lived 40 years but she can't help the disgust she has for it sometimes.

She'd been too shy and ashamed to take her shirt off in front of Victoria for months. Their first few times together Cassie insisted on taking her from behind not wanting the pretty girl laid before her to see too much. Vic was young, unblemished, Cassie already felt like she was sullying her without making her look at her unsightly state. She'd cringed when her tummy grazed Victoria's back. It changed the morning Victoria had asked, near begged to take Cassie's shirt off. Her voice was so gently needy Cassie didn't have the heart to say no. Victoria had moved slowly, reassuringly and marvelled at what she found. Cassie had a body that was strong yet soft, a sturdy home made to comfort. Her mouth had played with Cassie's nipples for what felt like hours, mesmerised by discovering what made Cassie breathe deeper and groan, Victoria had lost herself in the softness of Cassie’s breasts and their weight. Victoria adores rubbing her hands over Cassie's soft tummy and gripping at the thickness of her hips, they feel like something certain. She gets sinful joy whenever Cassie relents and lets her grind herself over the curve of Cassie's stomach. After she'll lick her own wetness up while Cassie praises her. Cassie's body has done much more living than Victoria's and she loves to admire it. She curls up some nights with her head on Cassie's belly, the perfect position for Cassie to lazily play with her silky hair until she falls asleep. Victoria's never felt safer.

Cassie thinks of the warmth of sharing her bed and Vic's body next to her as a distraction from how she looks in the photo. She must give Victoria credit for catching the morning light at just the right angle given how quickly she'd taken it. Cassie hopes Victoria likes the sight of her in the morning enough to spend many more together.

~~

Cassie isn't sure her favourite photo should exist. It'd been a risk taken in the heat of the moment, now stored in a complicated series of folders and digital security she didn't quite trust. Wasn't a problem back in Cassie's day. Photos like that you paid the weird guy in the college dark room to develop and kept in a shoebox at the back of the wardrobe.

It’s an obscene image, vulgar even but Cassie adores it. Taken from Victoria's point of view Cassie's face is barely visible between her girlfriend’s legs. She'd been there ages, coaxing the orgasms out of Vic and reducing her to whimpers. Cassie's face is hovering over Victoria's glistening slick skin, her tongue peeking forward to play amongst Vic's folds. From the camera's angle it’s possible to see the shiny evidence of Victoria's pleasure smeared on Cassie's chin. Her lips are swollen from obsessively kissing her girlfriend’s cunt. Her eyes are darkly clouded with the lusty intention to have Victoria cum again. And again. And again. She'd happily live like that, it’s evident in how ecstatic Cassie looks in the photo. Simply looking at it makes her ravenous to be that pussy drunk again. With want clouding her thoughts and that singular goal in mind there's no time to analyse her flaws.

~~

It'd been an impromptu after work trip near the beginning of December. The time of the false quiet before the Christmas chaos hits the ED. Victoria and Cassie had accidently left Trinity, Dennis and Samira behind waiting for hot chocolate. Victoria was bundled up in a furry pink scarf and matching earmuffs. Like a marshmallow as Trinity had put it. Cassie has their gloved hand's linked as they admire the lights, waiting for the others. Something about the time of year makes everything feel extra sappy. Cassie thinks of all the families she's met through the year who'll have an empty seat at the table and the patients who'll have no table at all. Maybe it’s not sappiness, its gratitude. She watches the lights shine in Victoria's doe eyes and feels her grip her hand. She wonders how this sugar sweet girl fell for someone like her. Public displays of affection aren't really Cassie's thing but the warm rush of loving and being loved in the coldest, darkest time of year makes her lean over and kiss Victoria's lips.

"Put her down, Doc!!!" Trinity's voice breaks the moment.

When they're home and tucked up in bed Vic nudges Cassie to show her a message from Trinity.

You two are so gross and in love❤️🤢

She'd caught the moment right before they kissed on camera. Somehow it looks like how Cassie feels when she's with Victoria – bright and sparkling even against the black sky. The twinkling lights surround them, wrapped up in their winter gear they’re oblivious to anything but the smile on one another's face. Cassie's nose is bright red from the chill, lightly nudging Victoria's.

"Send me it."

Cassie shoulders open the door and yanks back the privacy curtain, grimacing at the sight in front of her.

“Jesus christ.” Cassie mumbles, mostly to herself, hurrying around to Baran’s bedside, hands fluttering around the now glued shut welt above her eyebrow.

She settles for gently turning Baran’s head from side to side to get a look at the damage, lip caught between her teeth as she looks.

“Did you hit your head? Perlah said you went down pretty hard.” And then her fingers moving softly into the curls on Baran’s head, already down from its clip whilst she was being examined before Cassie got here.

“I’m okay, Cass,” Baran tells her, even as she lets Cassie slowly move her head this way and that. “I’ve been checked over, Samira just wants me sat in here for a little while longer to be sure.”

“You should go home,” Cassie says, and when Baran opens her mouth adds, “I know you won’t. But you should.“

And Baran attempts to roll her eyes in fond exasperation, winces when it irritates the swelling sat above the left one.

Cassie who has finally finished her own examination, has taken one of Baran’s hands in both of her own, idly playing with Baran’s fingers as she watched her with attentive eyes.

“It was an accident, these things happen.” Baran assures her, and it was an accident. They had been assessing a patient who was in and out of consciousness and someone had pressed on what was apparently a very tender spot on his abdomen. That had been enough to jar him to thrash, an elbow flying out and catching Baran right above her eye.

Cassie knows this, having been given the rundown by Perlah when she was finally told that her girlfriend was currently sat in North 3 having taken a hell of a blow to the face.

“No seizures since it happened right?” Cassie asks, using her foot to snag a stool and wheel it over so she can sit by Baran’s bed.

“No, I’m fine, just a bit sore where he caught me, nothing a couple of ibuprofen can’t solve.” Baran smiles, ignoring the way it makes her face ache a little. “You’re very sweet to worry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassie laughs now, “Dana’s never going to let me live it down with the way I ran in here.”

And not for the first time in their relationship, Baran’s heart warms because Cassie cares for her so freely, loves her loudly without being overbearing.

She just gets Baran in a way that she’s not sure she’s experienced before. Knows how to manage her anxieties before Baran’s even realised they’re there a lot of the time, is always on the look out to take little bits of stress away from Baran’s day to day responsibilities when she can. Cassie seems to genuinely find unending joy in just existing around her, even if that’s just the pair of them sleepily watching some TV post-shift until one of the inevitably dozes off and has to be coaxed to bed by the other.

And Baran knows trying to convince Cassie she doesn’t need taking care of tonight won’t work. Cassie’s default state seems to be a drive to take care of Baran. She’ll inevitably drive them home and open Baran’s car door for her. She’ll insist on running Baran a bath, and they’ll probably end up eating the leftovers from Baran’s cooking yesterday. She’ll kiss Baran softly and squeeze her waist in that little possessive way that always makes the attending’s stomach flip.

She wasn’t sure a love like this would truly exist for her. Sure she had loved her ex, but not like this, not this all consuming thing, and never so certain in it all.

Cassie presses her lips to the back of Baran’s hand.

“You tell me or someone if you feel worse.” She tells Baran seriously, squeezes Baran’s hand, and then lighter, “Try to stay out of trouble until the end of the day, yeah?”

“Well I never go looking for trouble in the first place.” Baran offers as Cassie stands up, eyes the glue holding her skin closed once more with an appraising eye.

“Careful baby, you sound an awful lot like Santos.” Cassie teases, “I gotta get back to work,” and then whiplash from teasing to impossibly tender, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Cass, I’ll be back out there in no time, don’t worry too much.”

"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.