#uhh..

Blood warning....... And spoilers for vamp smp but not really....

hmmm.....

(reference 👇)

don't wanna think of you and feel saved

(title is a lyric from 'nightmares' by newdad)

(cw// possible medical inaccuracies. (i tried). mentions of sh, and actions of sh. toxic workplace. abusive talk from garcia, yada yada. enjoy)

✶ notes : i haven't properly written in months. but that barsantos cocaine is crazy. hope y'all enjoy. ♡

✶ ✶ ✶

"Blessed yet again?" Garcia barges in the with glee. Baran raises her eyebrow, but stays in the back observing. Trinity however, has grown used to ignoring Yolanda's tonedeaf comments.

Baran, recounting what happened nearby the elevator,

and what happened with Dr. Langdon— she really had to take a moment and think about how toxic this environment is.

How everyone treated Trinity like an outcast. A 'pariah', as what Trinity said.

And how everyone kept her at arms length.

Nice, admirable— but out of reach, closed off.

One of their best, brave— but gossiped upon as if she wasn’t there.

It wasn't loud or snobbish, no. But the mumbles of Langdon and Santos added something tar-like to the air. When asking Langdon about it, all he said was that she 'doesn't like' him and that he was an 'asshole' to her.

While leaving many, crucial points.

It just wasn't fair. But honestly, when was anything in this field fair?

Death. Crime. Power.

Power almost always leads to abuse. Abuse of authority. Abuse of anything anyone can get their hands on. You name it.

The bureaucracy in this field.

They’d rather focus on incident reports immediately rather than checking on a nurse post-assault, waiting in CT.

None of it was fair.

So of course, Baran had to learn to bend the rules.

For herself, for others,

for the women like her fighting to make a name for themselves.

And in all honestly,

she will do the same for Trinity.

She can say it's for her code, however,

deep down she knows it's for something more personal than that.

How she always calls for Trinity during traumas, her praising Trinity more than any of the other residents, reassuring her about her pace in charting—

Can you blame her?

Ever since hearing what had occurred with Dr. Langdon, she now knows only a quarter (or less than) of the weight Trinity had to bear during these 10 months. That action she did, on her first day, was something Baran would absolutely have done in her early days.

She's shocked that no one pressed Dr. Langdon on. Being an asshole and taking up rehab to tackle an addiction is one thing— hell, Baran sees it as strength.

It's never easy to admit to yourself that one needs help. To everyone? It's like being naked. Raw. Horrifying.

She admired Dr. Langdon for that. Now it's tainted.

Becausw stealing medication, tampering with patient's vials, abusive speech towards residents— is a completely other thing. This put patients' lives at risk; Dr. Santos may have not came back after that.

He hasn't told anyone else the real reason either. Not Evans, not any of the other residents—

only Robinavich and Santos know. Fortunately, her now too. Fortunately because she can do something about it now that Robinavich is on his sabbatical. Regardless, she was going to take action anyway.

With or without Robinavich’s word in.

He should have been fired. It rings in her head constantly. Temporary license surrender, anything— he should not be here. Yet here he is, optimistic and confident.

While Dr. Santos looks like she wants to bolt.

The scalpel is still in Dr. Santos' pocket.

Baran's desperate to get to her, in private before their shift ends.

✶ ✶ ✶

"What do we got, Dr. Santos?" Baran snaps out of it, speaking up. Voice even and calm.

As always, and as always, Trinity envied that. The way she naturally bent the energy of the room with so much ease. The way she sees through, breaks down Trinity's walls like they weren't even there to begin with.

Trinity knows she's staring.

She doesn't look back. Not yet.

"Francis Kaverns. 24-year-old male. Came in with symptoms of shortness of breath, and excessive coughing. He underwent ECG, chest radiology, and ultrasound, where we found a right pleural effusion while his ECG was normal. I asked him about his history and he had no underlying disease, no history of heart diseases in his family, but I believe it still could—“

" 'Kay, so is it something aortic then?" Yolanda cuts her off, already eyeing the patient like a butcher to a lamb would.

Trinity nods, "Could be. Yeah." She doesn't look at Garcia, she refuses to— Everything feels fucking loud. She looks at the clock. One more hour. Thank fucking God. It's all too bright. Merciless, she needs out of here.

She focuses back on the patient, while Baran leans towards him, inching slightly closer to Santos.

Baran noticed how she looks even smaller now that the surgical resident arrived, she, however also notices that Santos eases her shoulders a bit at her action.

It hits Trinity achingly hard. Although she tries to hide it.

Baran observes closely between the two while she's at it.

"Trin, you're going to be taking primary surgery soon. Don't just give me barely a sentence, the hell?" Yolanda laughs, incredulous.

"I'm just agreeing with you, chief. You cut me off anyway." Trinity sarcastically responds, but it's dulled. There's edge to it. One more insult from you and I will— fuck. She feels like she's gonna drop dead at the last hour of this fucking shift— She doesn't need this right now. She's already had a shitshow dealing with Langdon, she doesn't need whatever this is going on with Yolanda making things worse. Fucking hell.

"Yeah, well—"

"What do you think we need to do now, Dr. Santos?" Baran cuts through whatever 'advice' Garcia wants to give. She steps in immediately, subtly going in front of Trinity.

Trinity loosens some of the tension in her body a bit.

Thank fuck.

What?

Why does she feel at ease because of this one action?

C'mon. Fuck. She's already told herself this many times; she doesn't need a fucking protector.

But as the days go by, with this new attending,

the praises during traumas, the assuring whispers when performing incredibly difficult life altering surgeries, the reassurance with her charting— she doesn't know how much she believes that anymore.

She wants to lay her head on that stupid lululemon jacket. Feel that anchor. That warmth. Again and again until she finally feels whole.

Baran says to herself that it's just to ease the tension in the air,

but really it's just to let Trinity carefully know that she's under her protection. That this won't happen to her. Not again and no longer.

Trinity, a little stunned says, "Uhh- we should do an ETT and aortic CT angiography to confirm any evidence of a dissection."

"If confirmed to be true?"

"Then necessary arrangements will be made for open heart surgery and Mr. Kaverns will be admitted to the cardiac surgery ICU with his medication carefully administered."

"Correct. Very well done Dr. Santos." Trinity grins a little bit, that spark igniting a bit in her eyes. "Various risk factors can play a role in creating a possible aortic dissection. Therefore, it is necessary to pay attention to patients’ history for achieving a quick and definitive diagnosis." Baran looks at Trinity with a soft warmth. If Trinity was the more delusional, she'd think her gaze was saying 'I understand what happened today. I'm on your side.'

Her shoulder gets tapped lightly by the older woman. It's a small action, but her entire body gets lit on fire anyway.

The gratifying moment is unfortunately broken when Yolanda snaps, "Are you kidding me?" The surgical resident frustratingly eyes the two. Trinity shrinks a bit at her gaze. Baran tilts her head slightly, and just smiles, unreadable— though.

Yolanda continues, spit-firing.

"You barely say shit to me but with her you're saying everything! And this is so much more than just resident to attending — don't even try to bullshit me, Trinity.

You’ve been doing this all. day.”

"I.. I just—" I just feel so much safer with her than with you. She’s made me feel so much safety and recognition than you have ever made me in the past 10 months. She’s sees me for my worth in this ED and also as a human. You see me for a quick fuck and I know I deserve better than that. I look for her in every situation and it's fucking terrifying but I want it. I don't want to hope for the idea of you. Not anymore.

"There is it again! The stuttering. Jesus, did Langdon really fuck you up that badly? Did I fuck you up that badly?"

Trinity wraps her arms around herself, she needs any sort of stability right now. She looks down at her feet breathing heavily. "S-sorry." She mumbles. Baran sees that her eyes are glassy, and as she looks down, she sees the younger woman slowly digging her nails in her arms.

Baran is livid. Not only does Garcia not care about Trinity's private information being thrown around, she purposefully uses it as fuel in arguments.

To shut Trinity down.

To make her feel like her worth has no significance.

Baran's jaw tightens.

"You can't take any hits nowadays, Trin. How much whining are you gonna do until you get your fucking head in the game? Our words are how you fucking grow here. I can't believe this—"

Baran's had Enough.

"Dr. Garcia." Baran steps in from her spot and looks directly at the surgical resident.

"What."

"I'd like a word after we help this patient." It's cold, magnifying, and leaves no room for any talk back.

Garcia rarely ever gives a fuck about that, though.

"Yeah, and you scare me so much, Robo-Doc." Rolling her eyes, she looks behind her unreadable attending and eyes Trinity.

"When the hell are you gonna put up your big girl pants? Now you got another person babying you because you got your feelings hurt once. Amazing job, Trinity."

Trinity's head is a warzone. Everything fucking hurts. She feels like she's gonna throw up her insides. She's alone in this. Again. Because why would she ever have someone by her side? The bruises never leave. Verbal or physical— they stay. And she has nothing to prove. Truth is nothing in this field. Justice is dead. Justice is seconds away from coding. And she can't save it. Justice is protecting the whistleblower. She wasn't protected. Justice is getting him fired. He's still here. She has nothing. Not anymore. Not with these people around. People like Langdon, like Garcia. She feels used, abused, discarded. Emotional intimacy be damned- no one should get treated like this. She doesn't deserve this. She feels like she's carrying both of their sins with her own, and the lines blur like her vision. Teary eyed. And she can't move. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair it's not fair it's not—

"Garcia. Inform Dr. Walsh of the possible aortic dissection for Mr. Kaverns. Tell her to be on standby once we get the results back."

Yolanda blinks twice then tears her eyes away from Trinity to her new attending.

"...What? I'm right here. I can perform it myself when the updates arrive."

Baran eyes her, arms crossed, jaw tight.

"With the way you spoke to my resident, it'd be morally wrong of me to let you teach her. Be near her. You're done for the rest the day."

Yolanda scoffs then steps closer to Baran, attempting to shrink her the same way she did to Trinity.

Baran is unbothered, if anything, she raises her chin to her.

You really want to try this, huh?

"Are.. are you fucking kidding me? Are you actually gonna bench me for this?"

"If that's how Dr. Robinavich says it here, then yes.

You're done for the last hour."

"That's not fucking fair! I said nothing of substance. You're acting like I gutted her." Garcia throws her hands in the air, fuming.

"Harassment, belittlement and degradation towards residents in this workplace is a violation of conduct. You're well aware of that, I assume?"

"Your point? I didn't—" Baran doesn't give her the time of day.

"Then you should be well aware of that if you don't want to get your license revoked.

No hospital wants to hear a resident getting verbally assaulted under the guise of ‘motivation’.

Do not act like that wasn't what it was."

“To add to your unprofessional behaviour, I even overheard you calling Dr. Javadi, what was it, a ‘nepo baby’? While you chase for Dr. Shamsi’s approval like a dog to its owner.” Baran hums, voice dripping with malice. Her mask slips a bit, but the anger in her bones could give less than a shit.

She edges between professionalism and the overwhelming urge to protect both Trinity and the other residents who have been dealt Garcia’s hand.

Trinity looks at the two, then back at Baran. She’s speechless.

Why are you doing this?

Why are you helping me?

Baran clicks her tongue, looking right at Garcia with an exasperated expression. “And while I’m not aware of what happened with Dr. Langdon and Dr. Santos, that seemed to have been private information that you purposefully threw without Dr. Santos’ consent, and with an attending present.”

Yolanda's face drops completely. “Look, I—“

“Enough.” The attending raises her voice loudly. Gratifying, it throws Trinity back from what felt like her drowning.

Baran does it to make a point. Two, actually.

1. To let Garcia know that this is final. No bullshitting. No more faux understanding; she’s had enough of hearing it over and over in this damned ED.

2. To let Trinity know that she doesn’t have to take this treatment any longer.

And it seems to have worked. Slowly, patiently, Trinity eases up.

“Tread carefully, Dr. Garcia.” Baran looks away, voice dripping with a warning and a promise. I will make this hell for you if you get to her or anyone here. Final.

Baran will scrub this ED clean of contaminations, even if it means doing a few threats here and there.

Trinity's breath quickens. She wishes she could just dig a hole and hide there.

Garcia grinds her teeth. "Fine, Robo-Doc."

She storms out and slams the door behind her hard. Trinity flinches at the sound. Her yelling outside the room can be heard loud and clear.

"FUCKING unbelievable—"

Trinity's frozen. Her throat is closing in on itself. Her eyes blink rapidly.

Not here. Not now. Not here please for the love of fucking god not now—

"Would you like a hug, Trinity?" Baran whispers, inching slowly to her. There it is. That anchor. Again.

She laughs, but it’s pained. Humorless.

It comes off as a wheeze to Baran’s ears at first. It didn't land right either.

Because what does she want? Working in emergency medicine was an active rebellion from her family growing up. Her family, like Dr. Shamsi, called emergency medicine 'Street level medicine'. Bottom of the barrel. She ignored it all, because she wanted to help people. Like an adrenaline junkie, she chased the thrill.

Besides, if she can't save herself, then she can save others. With her own money, working shitty part time jobs with miscellaneous food to get by, all so that she can have a life to call her own- choices to call her own.

But lately, it all just.. blurs. She’s bone deep tired of listening to higher ups that don’t give a shit about whether she cuts or dies tomorrow. She’s exhausted of having to walk on eggshells around everyone, having to avoid people because of her righteous fucking action.

And fuck, they still don’t know the real reason.

Don’t you just love it when the system that’s supposed to protect you just.. doesn’t?

Doesn’t protect the heroic whistleblower, or the patients of the person you reported, or practically every fucking thing?

Don’t you just love it when you’re starting to feel more like a concept of a human rather than feeling like one as the days go by?

But here comes Baran, throwing a life jacket in this sinking ship called the PTMC.

And for the first time in a very agonisingly long time, Trinity makes her own choice.

She grabs the life jacket.

After a few moments of her body locking in on itself, her heart and body reach out before her brain screams at her to bolt.

Then the younger woman just crashes into her, sobbing. She falls to her knees, but the pain doesn't reach her. While knowing they'll bruise. Her screams are animalistic. A wounded animal, wailing. She's blubbering, barely making any sense. Every guard she's made to herself, to her coworkers, this fucking ED, her attending— just falls.

And Baran is just there. Sitting on the floor, with her. Humming, rubbing her back, coaxing her through it, hugging her close.

She doesn't care about where she has to be, who she needs to see,

nothing is as important as this.

10 minutes go by, and Trinity's blubbering turns into soft whimpering. Snot and tears everywhere, she feels like a wreck.

"Honey, go take a Pocari from the fridge in the breakroom and take 20. I'll call Dr. Mohan to perform this with Dr. Walsh. We can talk more after this shift ends. Which is, thankfully, soon." Baran murmurs into Trinity’s hair. Softly, but firm.

Normally Trinity would argue back, Stubborn and sarcastic, but right now? All she does is sniffle and nod through Baran's scrubs.

"Good. Now go, I'll be there in 20 okay?"

She slowly gets up, head from Baran’s shoulder and off her knees. She slightly wobbles over, but the older woman catches her before she falls.

But before she goes, Baran calls out to her.

"Trinity."

"Mm?" Bloodshot eyes looks back to the attending from the door.

"You are so much more than what they've made you out to be.

I'm proud of you." That warmth. Again.

Fighting back a sob, she weakly nods and heads out.

She finally, finally has someone in her corner.

She's eternally grateful. But fuck, what the hell is she gonna do with this? How is she supposed to act now?

She can barely think as she sits down in the breakroom.

This last hour's gonna be rough.

But she now feels at ease going through it all, with someone behind her.

Azurella border for good measure (get the reference @wyfragilegod )

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