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Trinity couldn’t hold it back anymore. The weight of everything pressed in at once. The bathroom ceiling swayed above her, and she clutched the sink like it was the only thing tethering her to the world.
Breathe. Just breathe.
But her brain wouldn’t listen.
It kept playing everything back. Every shift, every conversation, every small thing she thought she had handled. Weeks, months of pressure, stacking, compressing. She had been managing it. More than managing it. She was good at her job. She even had something resembling a life outside the ER. She now had a social life, and for whatever you could call it, she had Garcia.
Had.
She forced her head up, and what met her gaze disgusted her.
The disheveled mess of her reflection stared back at her. It didn’t make sense. Everything had been good. Too good.
“That’s not—” she started, then stopped. This had happened before. She just didn’t think it would happen again.
The drive home was a blank stretch in her memory. Dennis had offered, no, insisted on driving that night because he didn’t trust her behind the wheel. His hunch was right. She vaguely recalled the front door opening, her feet carrying her straight to the back of the apartment. And now she was here, barely standing.
Then she let her body touch the earth of the tiles and tore out a sob. Everything hurt.
She reached for the scalpel in her pocket, the now warm metal met her fingers. Her fingers curled around it. Just to hold it. That was all, maybe.
Before she could think of it, a figure rushed to her side.
“Trinity.”
Dennis.
He was suddenly there, crouching beside her.
“Hey. Look at me.”
She didn’t.
“I’m fine, Whitaker,” she muttered, grip tightening. “Go away.”
“Yeah, you look fantastic,” he said dryly. “Hand it over.”
Trinity’s eyes widened. How did he know? She remembered being discreet when she took it from the suture cart.
“What?” she muttered.
“I saw you.” Dennis met her eyes. She hated how sad and pathetic he looked, but if she were to guess, she looked ten times worse than him.
She forced out a weak, humorless huff. “Relax. I’m not about to do anything stupid.”
“Didn’t say you were,” he replied. “Still want the scalpel.”
She shifted, trying to pull her hand back, but he caught her wrist.
“Seriously?” she snapped, though it came out thin. “I said I’m fine.”
“And I said give it to me.” There was still a tint of pity in his eyes, but it had shifted to something more stern, and Trinity had never seen her roommate like this.
They stared at each other like that for two minutes. Trinity wanted to let out a snarky joke, or tell him to shut up and to mind his business. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“Give it to me, Trin.” He reached out his hand now.
Her fingers loosened a little.
“Yeah,” he said, softer. “That’s it.”
The scalpel slipped out of her hand and hit the tile with a small clink. Dennis picked it up right away and set it out of reach.
“Okay. Good.” He let out a weak, reassuring smile at the red-eyed girl.
She bent forward, pressing her hands against the floor, trying to breathe. It wasn’t working. Of course, Dennis caught it right away.
“In through your nose.”
She let out a shaky laugh that turned into a cough. “I hate you.”
“Noted. Breathe.”
She tried to ignore him. It lasted about two seconds before her lungs forced her to follow anyway. Silence, except for their breathing. They just kept going, slow inhale, shaky exhale.
Eventually, her breathing evened out. Both of them just sat there on the floor. Ironic, really, two doctors making camp in the most unsanitary room in the building.
There was this tugging behind Trinity’s heart, a desire to reach out and to find shelter. Her fingers involuntarily reached for Dennis’s shirt, she gripped it firmly in her knuckles. The scrawny boy held her arms, rubbing his thumb against the skin of her hand.
He didn’t say anything at first.
Just stayed there, letting her hold on like it didn’t mean anything. Her grip didn’t loosen.
“Okay,” Dennis said after a while. “Come on, you should lie down.”
“I’m not moving.”
“You are,” he said, already shifting.
She sighed, but didn’t fight him this time. He helped her up carefully, one hand hovering near her in case she lost balance. She steadied after a second, though her legs still felt weak.
“See?” she muttered. “Alive.”
“Let’s keep it that way,” he replied.
The walk to the living room was quiet. She stayed close without meaning to, like her body hadn’t gotten the memo yet. Dennis pretended not to notice or mention it. He guided her down onto the couch, grabbing a throw blanket and tossing it over her.
“I’m not five,” she scowled, though she pulled it closer anyway.
“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, while taking a seat across her.
Trinity just leaned back, staring somewhere past him. Dennis sat on the edge of the coffee table, watching her for a second.
“You should rest,” he said.
“I am resting.”
“You’re glaring at the wall.”
“Same thing.”
He rolled his eyes. How could she manage to still put up this wall of sarcasm and humor after everything that had happened thirty minutes ago?
Dennis was good at leaving her alone, that’s what she preferred anyways. But seeing Trinity like this make his heart ache. He loves helping people on their worst day, that’s the whole reason why he chose emergency medicine. But Trinity is not just people. She is the closest thing he had to a family. And what does a family do? They stick together. You do more than just help. So no, Dennis will not leave her alone today.
“My oldest brother used to sing this song to me when I feel down,” he announced out of nowhere.
Trinity’s eyes snapped to him. “Don’t.”
“It’s called Beautiful Boy. Well, you’re not a boy but still.”
She groaned immediately. “Absolutely not.”
He ignored her. He began to open his mouth, soft at first, a little awkward.
“Close your eyes…”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Have no fear…”
“I mean it, Whitaker”
The awkward tune filled the room. His voice was calm, laced with gentleness. He remembered the numerous times his brother had whispered the song in his ears, late nights, half-asleep, when things were just too much. Family. The song reminded him of family. And if it wasn’t clear already, Trinity was his family. His only one now.
“The monster’s gone, he’s on the run
And your brother’s here…”
He moved to sit next to her now. Surprisingly, Trinity scooted over to give him space. She smiled faintly at him. She had never had someone sing to her before. She didn’t even remember if she had ever been comforted by a lullaby in her early childhood. This was the first time someone had treated her with such tenderness. But of course, she would rather die before telling him that.
“Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful girl
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful girl”
Trinity stared in disbelief and snorted. “Gosh, thank God you’re a doctor.”
The farm boy hid his face behind his hand. His face flushed red. He couldn’t believe he had just willingly done that, to Trinity of all people. God, he sounded like the rat he had caught a few months ago. What was he even thinking?
Before he could apologize, like always, a hand touched his, holding it tight.
“I appreciate that, Den.” She smiled for the first time that night.
Dennis looked up at the ceiling and let out a relaxed sigh. “So this is you admitting that you like having me as a roommate, right?”
They both exchanged glances. Trinity shook her head, almost affectionately.
“Whatever, Fuckleberry.”