do you ever think…. there’s a kid in the ED who has meningitis, who needs a lumbar puncture but is terrified, and Trinity, who of course cares so deeply about the kid’s consent, is so respectful and reassuring with them. And Baran, watching her interact with the kid, blinking back tears because she would have given anything to have someone who treated her like that when she was a child
Bonus thought: this all happens pre-relationship. Trinity, who’s already at her wits end from how long her day has been, sees the kid’s parents being either distant or distractingly worried, but regardless, seemingly uncaring of how their kid feels about all this. And she’s just spend the last part of her shift talking (as best as one could to someone disoriented from meningitis) to the kid, and she gets the sense that they’ve never really been listened to before. And Trinity’s so tired and upset on their behalf that she just snaps at the parents, asking them why couldn’t they care more, why they won’t prioritize their kid, and Baran has to drag her away.
Trinity’s expecting to be reprimanded — she knows the parents are probably just worried, and she’s not being fair to them, but she’s riled up and needs to be angry at them before it turns inward, so she pushes back against Baran’s admonishments. She says, no, doesn’t matter what the parents might have sacrificed for the kid — the kid deserves someone on their side, someone to stand up for them, to listen to them — and Baran, who’d been listing out the defenses she spent the past 35 years of her life using for her own parents, and is now watching as Trinity speaks to every single ache Baran’s been pushing down for all those years… she breaks. Her carefully constructed walls crack and the dam breaks, and she’s turning away to try to hide her tears.
Trinity doesn’t quite know what to do, what to say to her boss (who had previously been nothing but the picture of professional detachment) sobbing in front of her. She knows Baran’s a parent, maybe something was going on with her son? She’s too tired to even try to unpack that, just mumbling out an apology, before she’s interrupted. Baran, voice ever-so-slightly hoarse, and tinged with embarrassment when she’s interrupted by her own sniffles, tells Trinity how how lucky that kid is to have her as a doctor, how good of a person she is. She tells Trinity to stop apologizing, that Baran wished she had someone like Trinity in her life at that age and she’s so honoured to have met her now.
Trinity, who has had such a long, shitty day, overwhelmed with the confusing situation, the praise she’s receiving, and the urge to comfort Baran, goes and wraps her arms around her attending. She buries her face in the crook of her neck, the faded smell of her shampoo soothing the lump in Trinity’s throat. They stay like that for a while, separating only after someone calls them to come help with handoffs. They don’t drift far apart, though — Baran’s close enough to lean over and whisper in Trinity’s ear, cracking a joke about her still not being off the hook for her bedside manner, to which Trinity amusedly rolls her eyes and reaches out to give Baran’s hand a subtle squeeze.
This is like... ACTUAL perfection - Baran out here, having needed an advocate. Someone on HER side as a kid. Her care team as a child had been amazing - for her parents. But for her? Not so much. Everything was big and scary and yes, her parents were great. But there was never somebody there to explain everything that was going to happen to her body. They always explained to her parents.
