quinn✨

She felt a solid pressure against her back, just holding her, making her feel heavy but weightless at the same time. Her nose was pressed up against someone's neck, and she breathed in their aftershave, which was woodsy, clean, sandalwood, and pine, she thinks—applied heavily as if to try to cover up the lingering smell of the hospital on him. As the world started to reassemble before her in her half-conscious, sleep-drunk state, Trinity tried to piece things together. She went home last night and fell asleep in her bed, but the smell told her that she was still in the hospital. That realization tugged her awake. Her eyes cracked open and immediately squinted shut again, assaulted by the harsh overhead lights of the ER. Her hand clumsily reached for her face to rub her eyes, as her other hand reflexively tightened around whatever was around her, which was a soft cotton shirt attached to a person. She shifted, testing her uncoordinated movement, trying to get her eyes to cooperate. It took a few minutes, but the emergency room came into focus. Only it looked wrong. Familiar, yes, but it felt like a dream, stretched and expanded to where it looked distorted. The ceiling was too high and the bays too wide. Everything looked…. bigger. Her head wouldn't move much on its own, her gaze sharpened, searching for answers when they landed on him.

Dr. Robby. Walking towards her, head bowed over his phone, his brow drawn tight as his finger jabbed out a message with more force than strictly necessary. Whoever he was texting was clearly testing this last nerve. Then he looked up.

Trinity's stomach dropped.

He was young.

Well, younger.

No gray at his temples, and gone was his beard, a real shame too. His face was unlined in a way it hadn't been when she last saw him. He still looked tired, but he worked as a doctor in emergency medicine; tired was a given. A constant state of being really.

And he was smiling.

A big smile that lit up his face.

"Look who's here." Dr. Robby cooed.

He cooed.

Actually cooed.

At her.

Trinity's face reacted before she could stop it, scrunched up, ready to tell him to fuck off, but only a soft babble of sound came from her mouth. And the body she was wrapped up in laughed. It was a quiet, breathy sound, but it reverberated and rumbled through her body. "There's your Abba." Dr. Abbot's voice was soft and smooth like honey; it sounded close to her ears. "Oh, did Abba's little girl have a good time at daycare?" Dr. Robby asked, pocketing his phone so his hands were free to take her.

She was eating a cookie left at the nurses' station, laughing at something Dennis had said. It wasn't a particularly funny joke; she suspected it was more of an inside joke than anything, but the way he fumbled through it was enough to make her laugh. 

That's when it started, feeling a tickle at the back of her throat, which she at first thought was just the cookie going down the wrong pipe, but it quickly became concerning when it didn't stop. She forced herself to cough into her hands, hoping to dislodge whatever was causing the discomfort. But then the tingling started at her lips and tongue, and her face felt like it was on fire.  It's been years since she had an allergic reaction; at this point, Trinity had hope she had outgrown her allergy, but this was not the case. Trinity was having a reaction.  Dennis turned from his charting to look at Trinity, as she was coughing. That's when he noticed the redness spreading on her neck. He was about to get a closer look when Trinity's arm shoots out and grasps his scrub top. "Trinity?" Dennis asks, but he only got a wheezy breath in return.

"Get Dad," She rasps, her breathing becoming labored, before she leans forward, falling from her seat into Dennis's orbit. The intern was able to catch her, and together they slid ungracefully to the floor.

"Oh, my god." Javadi gasped from her seat across from them. 

"Dr. Robby!" Dennis called out, but the high volume of the E.D drowned him out. Trinity was laying half way into his lap, looking up at him with wet eyes. "Hang on, Trin."

"Robby!" He yells this time, getting the attention of those around him, "Jack!"

Sound starts to reverberate around Dennis as he stares down at Trinity. He can hear someone calling for an attending; someone is trying to reach Jack and Robby. He hears, sharper than anything else, the squeaking of shoes on the tile and Trinity struggling to breathe. 

He starts to lay her flat on the ground, and Trinity, of course, fights this and tries to hold on to his top. "Javadi, I need an EPIPen now!" Javadi quickly turns and runs towards the nurses' station, passing by Dr. Al-Hashimi as the attending drops to the floor next to Dennis. "What's happening?" Dr. Al-Hashimi asks,  "She's having an allergic reaction," Dennis tells her, getting Trinity flat on her back.  Dr. Al-Hashimi reaches forward with her hands, examining Trinity's throat. Trinity squirms in her grasp as she struggles on the floor. "I need an EpiPen," Baran orders, just as Javadi comes racing back. "I've got it," Javadi says, sliding on the floor next to them. She released the cap with a pop and jabbed Trinity in her upper thigh. "Administering Epi," The adrenaline works through her system, allowing Trinity a moment of relief, a full breath of air, and she thinks that's the end of it. Only for that relief to be short-lived, and she feels like she's breathing through a straw again.  "It's not working!" Dennis curses, watching in real time as her relief turned back into panic. Trinity lets out a wheezing gasp. "Den….Abba." "Where's Robby?" He demands, but no one can give him an answer. "Dr. Whitaker," Baran says his name sternly, "What's our next course of action?" "Javadi another around of Epi," Dennis orders, then to Trinity, he tries to reassure her. "Stay with me, Trin, they're on their way."

Javadi sits next to them with a second epi in hand, about to administer the second round of adrenaline, when Robby comes sprinting into the area, and he hits the ground hard. He's alone and out of breath, most likely having run from wherever he was when he got the page.  "What happened?" Robby demands, looking at Trinity, noticing her red and swollen throat, and dread hits him in the pit of his stomach. "How many rounds of epi?" "One." Baran answers, "But." "Javadi, another round of epi." Robby orders, then to Donnie, "I need a gurney now." "On it," Javadi and Donnie say at the same time.  Javadi jabs Trinity again with the adrenaline. It hurts even more the second time, and Trinity jerks away on the ground, letting out a strangled cry, tears streaming down her face as she fights.  "Hey," Robby says, his voice soft and comforting for her ears only. He's leaning over her, his hands lightly holding her swollen cheeks. "I'm right here, baby girl, we're gonna get you breathing again, don't worry." "Abba,"  "Gurney's here," Langdon's voice cuts through the moment, appearing on the opposite side of Robby, ready to lift. "On my count." "One, two, three!" They lift her off the ground and roll the gurney into an empty trauma room. It all happens in a whirl of motion and distorted sound, as everyone is talking, voices stacked on top of each other. Trinity could barely understand what was happening, besides the fact that her vision was blurred and she could hardly breathe.  "Transfer," Frank's voice cuts through the distortion, as she's in the air briefly as she's transferred to a bed, hands are everywhere now, with wires and lines. A monitor starts beeping beside her. "Monitor's on-" "Pulse ox-" "BP's dropping-" Too many voices, too much sound, not enough air. Trinity tries not to panic, but at this point, it's unavoidable. Her eyes scan the room, quickly landing on Robby. Only her Abba is too far away, his back turned towards her as he argues with Dr. Al-Hashimi; she tries to reach for him, but her body betrays her. She wants to scream, but all that comes out is a desperate sob.  "Her airway is swelling, fast." Robby snaps, "We are losing time arguing." "You can't operate on your daughter." Baran counters when the doors burst open. "Trinity!" Jack Abbot scrambles into the room, a flurry of movement as he makes his way to his daughter's side. He stops short of her, taking in the wires and lines that cover her, a moment of fear that he was too late, but she turns her head towards him and reaches out a weak hand. "Easy, lovebug daddy's here." He tells her, petting her hair as he looks her over. "You're going to be okay." Trinity opens her mouth wanting to speak, but can only whimper at this point as oxygen is slipping through her lungs like sand in her hands.  "Don't worry, just focus on breathing. Can you do that for me?" Jack asks, placing a kiss against her sweaty forehead, he takes a second and looks up, meeting his husband's hard gaze and demands. "Why haven't you intubated yet?" "Dr. Abbot-" says Baran,  "She's deteriorating; if we don't move fast, we could lose her!" Jack snarls, his heart beating faster in his chest. Robby starts listing off medication and orders, and everyone responds quickly, as a well-oiled machine, with only one uncooperative cog being Baran. As the others get the sedative and paralytic going, Baran stops Robby.

"Dr. Robby!" Baran snaps; her tone meant that she had had enough. "You can't operate on your daughter."

"We don't have time for this!" Jack snaps. "Her pressure and stats are dropping, she can't fucking breathe!"

"All the more reason for you two to step back," Baran argues, not unkind but clear. She wasn't going to move on this.

"I'm not going anywhere," Robby snarls, ready to bully his way past Baran,  "You don't have to leave, but you must step back!" Baran tells him, "You are too close. Trinity needs someone objective." "Don't tell me what my daughter needs," The monitor spikes, fast and erratic, signaling to the room that someone was wrong. Trinity jerks violently on the gurney, flopping like a fish on land, fighting Jack's grip as the man stands rooted in place. He stands there frozen for half a second as all his worst fears come to realize before him.

As Donnie yells, "She's seizing!"

"Fucking do something!" Jack's voice breaks, hoarse and scared. Donnie moves next to him, helping him hold her down as she moves. "Watch her airway!"  "Benzo now!" Robby shouts, his panic and frustration rising. "No!" Baran says as she intercepts him,  "Move!" At that moment, Frank snaps, grabs the Benzos from someone's hand, and starts administering care. He takes over the trauma with an effective air.

"Benzos going in," Frank says, his voice and presence steady as the drugs pump through the line. "Time it,"

"30 seconds," Donnie replies,

Jack stands hovering over his daughter, as she continues to convulse on the table, Donnie's holding her upper body, and Dennis has the lower, while Jack has a death grip on her hand.  "Come on, baby girl, stay with me," Jack mutters,  "She's still seizing, " Dennis calls out,  "Preparing second dose," Frank replies, jaw clenched, his hands tight around the medication, a million thoughts running through his head, how he doesn't want their fight to be the last thing they say to each other. "Ready." "Wait!" Jack shouts.  They all watched with bated breath as Trinity's erratic movements started to slow, before going still.  "She's stopped seizing," Dennis says, relieved.

Robby and Baran move at the same time, but Baran gets to Frank's side first, taking over as attending, watching Frank do the procedure, which he's done a million times before, only this time he's intubating his baby sister.  While Robby walks the long way around, appearing at his husband's side, his hand on Jack's shoulder pressing into him as they both wait.

Charlotte was a fairly realistic looking for a toy, with eight plastic red eyes which contrasted against the white plush of the toy. For weeks, Trinity carried it everywhere with her, and Charlotte even had the distinct pleasure of having a seat at dinner, much to Robby's dismay. "Ah, another Jack Abbot-Robinavitch special?" Robby asks as he walks into the kitchen, hair still damp from his shower. Stopping by the stove to give Jack a quick kiss, before sticking his finger into whatever dish Jack had made for dinner.  "Keep your grubby paws to yourself." Jack fired back with little heat as he watched Robby go for another taste, batting Robby's hand away with a spatula  "But I'm hungry," Robby tells him, pulling his hand back with a laugh.  "Dinner will be ready in two minutes," Jack replies, flinging a dish towel over his shoulder. As a 8 year old, Trinity walks into the kitchen with her toy in her arms. The two men watch as she sets the toy in the fourth chair at the kitchen table, and then sits in her seat patiently waiting for dinner.  "Our daughter has more patience than you," Teased Jack, as the younger man started plating. Scooping a portion of potatoes, meat, and vegetables onto a pink portion plate and handing it to Robby.  "Our daughter didn't work a 14-hour shift." Robby reminds his husband as he takes the plate. Robby takes five steps to the table when he notices that Trinity had not brought Charlotte down for dinner, but a stuffed tiger, with four wobbly legs and a long tail, a toy that Robby has not seen out of rotation for some time. " "Eat up," Robby tells her, setting the plate down in front of her, then turns around to grab his and Jack's plates.  "What about Trudy?" Trinity asks, as they all sat together around the table, "Why can't she have a plate?" "Told you we never should have let her watch Toy Story." Jack jokes, chuckling to himself. "Because Tracy can't eat people food," Robby tries to explain, as if this were a serious conversation, not just the whims of his 8-year-old daughter. "It's Trudy, not Tracy," Trinity argues back, crossing her arms over her chest. Jack, of course, was loving this conversation, smiling widely from behind his glass of water. 

"Right," Robby blinked a few times, wondering how he got to his moment before he apologized to the toy. "My apologies, Trudy can't eat people food." "She can too," Trinity squints her eyes at Robby, who is starting to feel the full weight of the offended eight-year-old. Jack lean back in his chair with a wide grin on his face,  "Oh, and what does Trudy eat?" 

"Chicken nuggets," Trinity replies, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course it does." Robby mutters, giving up any pretense of having a normal dinner conversation.

"And strawberries and blueberries but no bananas she thinks she's al-alrh-alergic." Trinity says stumbling over the last word. "Allergic," Jack tells her, and then with all the seriousness of any medical professional, says. "Good to know."

Robby points his fork at Jack, "Don't validate the tiger," 

By the time Trinity realized what had happened, it was already too late. She was eating a cookie left at the nurses' station, laughing at something Dennis had said. It wasn't a particularly funny joke; she suspected it was more of a broken-bow inside joke than anything, but the way he fumbled through it was enough to make Trinity laugh. 

What started as a tickle in her throat, which she thought was just the cookie going down the wrong pipe, quickly became concerning when it didn't stop. She forced herself to cough into her hands, hoping to dislodge whatever was causing the discomfort. But then the tingling started at her lips and tongue, and her face felt like it was on fire. It's been years since she had an allergic reaction; at this point, Trinity had hope she had outgrown her allergy, but this was not the case. Trinity was having a reaction.  Dennis turned from his charting to look at Trinity, as he was coughing. That's when he noticed the redness spreading on her neck. He was about to get a closer look when Trinity's arm shoots out and grasps his scrub top. "Trinity?" Dennis asks, but he only got a wheezy breath in return.

"Get Dad," She rasps, before pitching forward, falling from her seat into Dennis's orbit. The intern was able to catch her, and together they slid ungracefully to the floor.

"Oh, my god." Javadi gasped from her seat across from them. 

"Dr. Robby," Dennis called out, but the high volume of the ed drowned him out. Trinity was laying half way into his lap, her breathing started to sound labored, "Hang on, Trin."

"Robby!" He yells this time, getting the attention of those around him, "Jack!"

Sound starts to reverberate around Dennis as he stares down at Trinity. He can hear someone calling for an attending; someone is trying to reach Jack and Robby. He hears, sharper than anything else, the squeaking on the title and Trinity struggling to breathe. 

He starts to lay her flat on the ground, and Trinity, of course, fights this and tries to hold on to his top. "Javadi, I need an EPIPen now!" "What's happening?" Dr. Al-Hashimi asks, dropping to the floor next to them as Javadi runs in search of the medication.  "She's having an allergic reaction," Dennis tells her, getting Trinity flat on her back.  Dr. Al-Hashimi reaches forward with her hands, examining Trinity's throat. Trinity squirms in her grasp as she struggles on the floor. "I need an EpiPen," Baran orders, just as Javadi comes racing back. "I've got it," Javadi says, sliding on the floor next to them. She released the cap with a pop and jabbed Trinity in her upper thigh. "Administering Epi," The adrenaline works through her system, allowing Trinity a moment of relief, a full breath of air, and she thinks that's the end of it. Only for that relief to be short-lived, and she feels like she's breathing through a straw again.  "It's not working!" Dennis curses, watching in real time as her relief turned back into panic. Trinity lets out a wheezing gasp. "Den….abba." "Where's Robby?" He demands, but no one can give him an answer. "Dr. Whitaker," Baran says his name sternly, "What's our next course of action?" "Javadi another around of Epi," Dennis orders, then to Trinity, he tries to reassure her. "Stay with me, Trin, they're on their way."