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It should be illegal for a doctor to get sick. Seriously. Firstly, because if a department is already understaffed, the loss snowballs as the rest of the staff catch whatever’s going around. But more importantly, doctors are whiny little babies when they’re sick.
Trinity can say that because she is a doctor.
So when Walsh starts sniffling behind her mask during a consult in Trauma 2, Trinity starts doing a silent mantra.
Do not get me sick. Do not get me sick. Do not get me sick.
“Can I help?” Santos offered as she stepped forward.
Their patient, a GSW victim, was presenting pneumothorax thanks to their collapsed lung and the dressing the paramedics had placed on it in the ambulance. They needed to act fast.
Robby had been right beside Trinity, but had disappeared when Dana came looking for him.
Uncharacteristically, Walsh silently nods.
“Go ahead, Santos,” She instructs as she steps back from the patient, leaning against the wall.
Trinity nodded as she stepped up.
“Needle decompression,” Walsh instructed aloud before she tilted her head back against the wall, not even looking at Trinity.
“14 gauge, 3.25 inch,” Trinity called out confidently, Princess silently handing her the needle as Trinity’s other hand flew to the ribs, palpating, not second-guessing herself as she pushed the needle in between the bones of the second and third ribs, directly straight down into t the thoracic cavity until she heard a faint hiss of air.
It was clean.
Trinity’s head flew up to check the vitals, seeing the ease in breathing as their patience started to blink up at the ceiling with returned clarity, the O2 saturation rapidly improving.
“Good work, Dr. Santos,” Walsh bit out tersely, “Let’s move him up to the OR now, Don’t wait for me.”
“Do you need to…” Trinity trailed off.
For a second, she’s scared that Dr. Walsh is going to pass out and she’s going to have to resuscitate a Surgery Attending. But instead, Dr. Walsh hightails it out of T2 and rips off her face mask just in time to vomit into the trash.
“Uh,” Trinity stammers as the nearest nurse rushes to Walsh’s side.
“Gross,” Dr. Garcia mutters as she suddenly appears at Trinity’s side. Disgust was evident on her face as she looked down her nose at Walsh.
“We just sent a GSW to the chest up to the OR,” Trinity told Garcia with a sidelong glance, but she was already halfway to the elevator.
“Dr. Walsh, you need to go home,” Trinity said as she moved to place a gentle hand on her back.
“Mmhmm,” Walsh hummed in agreement as her head reappeared from the trash can.
“Let’s get you sitting down,” Trinity said as she put her arms around Emery Walsh’s shoulders while her eyes searched the floor. “Hey, Dana! What’s open?” She called out once she spotted the charge nurse.
Dana glanced up, took one split second to process the pale, almost yellow face of Dr. Walsh, and nodded.
“Put the good doc in Central 12!” Dana replied. “I’ll send over Perlah to give her fluids and meds.”
“Thanks, Dana!” Trinity called over Dr. Walsh’s head as she led her in that direction, carefully leading her as slowly and smoothly as she could manage.
“I’m fine,” Dr. Walsh slurred as she swallowed deeply, clearly keeping another wave of nausea down.
“Right,” Trinity replied with a no as she dropped Dr. Walsh onto the bed in 12.
“How’re you feeling, Dr. Walsh?” Perlah said softly as she pushed into the room before pulling the curtain closed, trying her best to keep the noise and chaos of the ED at bay.
“I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything,” Trinity told both of them as she moved to step outside.
Trinity Santos then spent the rest of the day jumping back and forth from an elderly woman who’d fallen on the ice and broken her wrist in four places, two kids, one five and one eight, who both had the flu, the former severely dehydrated, and the latter unable to keep down anything but water.
Plus a MVC involving a semi and three cars that brought in two traumas that she assisted with.
After her IV fluids, Dr. Walsh’s girlfriend came in to pick her up.
But then an hour or so later, Trinity saw Garcia drop off one of her med students with Dana and Princess, the student, a young guy with a dorky haircut, was sweating through his scrubs and clutching a bucket to his chest.
She was in the middle of presenting her elderly fall patient to Dr. Mohan when she saw them.
By the time Trinity’s able to do a run past where Dana stuck him, Garcia is long gone.
“Burn victim flying in! ETA 5!” Donnie called out.
“Page Surgery consult,” Dr. Robby replied. “Santos, Javadi, you’re with me,” He calls out as he eyes the available student doctors.
“Fasciotomy?” Javadi asked as she moved to join Trinity and Robby, her eyes wide and hopeful.
“Hopefully,” Trinity replied.
Robby shot them both a look, furrowing his brows as he frowned at them.
“What?” Trinity replied defensively. “Crash should get some practice.”
“Fasciotomy is not a testable skill in the ED,” Robby replied, shaking his head.
Garcia popped in just as they got the patient wheeled into Trauma 1.
“What’ve we got?” She asked as she pulled on her gloves.
“30-year-old male. Apprentice Lineman, high-voltage electrocution followed by a fall. Neuro normal. Third-degree burns to the left hand and forearm, contracture of the fingers,” Javadi presented.
Garcia rounded to the left side, where Trinity was checking the burns. Garcia’s hand skimming over the back of Trinity’s lower back as she moved in to get a better look. Her hand was hot as it pressed into her, practically burning through the scrub top and undershirt between them.
“Fasciotomy,” Garcia replied with a nod as she brought her forearm up to her face and wiped at her forehead.
Trinity glanced over at Garcia with that movement in her periphery. She was hot.
Physically.
Literally.
And sweaty.
Like she was… sick.
Oh god, no.
“Nepo baby, scrub in,” Garcia stated. “Dr. Santos can guide you. Go ahead,” She replied with a nod as she stepped back from Trinity, dropping her hand from Trinity’s back as she stepped back.
The absence felt palpable. And not just because Trinity knew that Garcia had probably just shed all sorts of stomach flu germs on her.
Dr. Robby stepped up as he frowned, even through his glasses and mask, at Garcia.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” He started.
“Don’t you have full confidence in your students?” Garcia bit back. Her usual dry teasing turned just a bit too sharp as she hugged her arms to her middle. “I’m right here in case they fuck it up. Is this not still a teaching hospital, Doctor Robby?”
Robby threw up his arms as Javadi appeared beside Trinity with a scalpel at the ready.
“Let’s get to it, Crash,” Trinity murmured as she placed her hand on top of Victoria’s, lining it up with the line for the fasciotomy.
“Good work, we’ll take him up to the OR,” Garcia replied with a brisk clap as she gestured to the nurses.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Robby replied with a shake of his head. “You’re not looking too hot, Yolanda.”
“I’m always hot,” Garcia replied with a scoff as she pulled off her disposable gown and gloves.
“I just need some air,” Garcia replied as she shook her head, confidently moving toward the door out into Central, only to significantly slow down after about three steps.
“I’ll go with you!” Trinity replied as she raced to pull off her own PPE and follow.
“I’m fine, Santos,” Garcia protested as Trinity appeared at her shoulder.
“Yolanda, I-” Trinity replied as Garcia almost stumbled. “I think you should sit for a moment.”
“I’m fine,” Garcia repeated.
“Just, sit, before I make you,” Trinity huffed as her patience quickly began to wear.
Garcia opened her mouth to protest, only for her eyes to widen for a millisecond before she quickly turned and promptly vomited right onto the ED floor.
“Shit,” Both of them muttered as they looked down at it.
“Garcia’s the third from Surgery to come down here with those symptoms. If this is a stomach bug, I’m going to need it out of this ER stat,” Dana was informing Whitaker as Trinity came up around to the desk.
“Garcia?” Whitaker asked as his head flew up, his eyes immediately meeting Trinity’s. Which made her frown at him, deeply displeased. She should have never told him about their casual rendezvous. “She’s sick?” He asked, his voice laced with his usual concern.
“As a dog, looks almost as bad as Walsh did this morning,” Dana replied with a nod.
Trinity glanced toward Central 4, the room she had just come out of, and she glanced through the window and saw Garcia lying back against the gurney with her eyes closed. Hopefully, she’d be able to sleep this off.
“I can’t have her gettin’ everyone in the goddamn hospital sick,” Dana continued.
“I can take her home,” Santos replied. The words coming out of her mouth before she could think the better of it.
Dana glanced up at her over the top of her glasses.
“Are you sure?” Dana asked slowly. “Kinda goes beyond the purview of an intern.”
“It’s on my way,” Trinity lied.
“I can take the bus home, Robby already asked me if I could stay a few hours to help Night Shift catch up on the backlog,” Dennis offered.
Trinity glanced over at her roommate. Pausing for a moment before giving him a grateful nod. Sometimes Huckleberry’s propensity for being a yes-man paid off for her.
“I’m pretty much done with my charting. I’ll finish up while she’s finishing her fluid IV and then take her home,” Trinity told Dana with a nod, happy to have that settled.
Dana nodded before heading off to another patient while Trintiy turned back to her charting.
“You’re not going to take her back to ours, are you?” Dennis asked after a few minutes of them both diligently typing.
“No, she and her germs are going to stay quarantined at her place,” Trinity replied with a shake of her head. “I refuse to get sick.”
“Text me if you need anything,” Dennis replied with a nod before standing to do rounds.
“Don’t wait up for me, Huckleberry,” Trinity replied with a shake of her head as she logged out of her computer and stood.
“See you tomorrow,” She called out.
“Assuming you don’t also come down with the plague,” Dana replied with a sigh as she looked up at the board, which was quickly filling with cold and flu cases.
“Yolanda?” Trinity called out gently as she placed a hand on Garcia’s shoulder.
Yolanda’s face contorted into a wrinkled frown as she tried to shake Trinity’s hand off of her. Her eyes squinted tightly shut.
“No,” She groaned.
“Yo, I’m going to take you home now, Doctor’s orders,” She told her.
“Let me sleep,” Yolanda ground out as she tried to flip onto her stomach, only to get stopped by the IV still running into her arm.
“C’mon,” Trinity muttered. “You’ll be more comfortable at home, in your own bed.”
Trinity still wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to convince Yolanda to get up and out of the ED and into her car, but she was much more pliable once she was safely buckled into the passenger seat of Trinity’s Subaru Outback.
“It smells like Beef Jerky in here,” Yolanda complained with a frown.
“Blame Huckleberry,” Trinity bit out as she reversed out of her parking spot and began the quiet drive to Yolanda’s apartment.
Somewhere between the hospital and her place in Shadyside, Yolanda Garcia, one of the scariest Surgical Senior Residents at PTMC, fell asleep and started softly snoring.
“Okay, time to get up, Yo, I gotta get you inside,” Trinity said as she opened Yolanda’s car door and unbuckled her seatbelt.
With her arm draped over her shoulder, Trinity let her lean on her all the way up the sidewalk and into the building, right through the elevator doors.
Trinity got her up and into her apartment without issue, bringing Yolanda into her bedroom before setting to work finding all of the supplies she might need. Anti-nausea and flu meds, tissues, water, Gatorade, a sleeve of very old-looking crackers, and a small trash can to place at the side of her bed.
Trinity rummaged through drawers and cupboards she’d never dared to peek inside before. Her usual visits to this apartment were usually spurred by late-night texts and ended in quick fumbling in the dark of the bedroom before Trinity would eventually pull her clothes back on and disappear back home before Yolanda woke up the next morning.
It worked.
I mean, Trinity usually felt weird about it for a day or two afterward, but Yolanda never said anything to her about it. And they’d agreed early on to keep it casual, bringing in deeper feelings was a recipe for disaster with them working together at the Hospital.
So yeah, it worked, more or less.
“I found everything I could think of,” Trinity said as she came in with her arms laden with her bounty. She got to work lining them up on Yolanda’s bedside table.
”Stay.”
“I…” Trinity stuttered.
“Please,” Yolanda whined.
“But, you’re sick,” Trinity half-heartedly protested.
“I don’t care,” Yolanda replied stubbornly.
“It’s the only thing that will make me feel better,” She told Trinity with bleary eyes as she reached a hand out from under the duvet and pulled on Trinity’s wrist. It was a weak grab, but Trinity found herself being pulled forward anyway, her knees bumping up against the side of the bed right by Yolanda’s head.
“Please,” She repeated.
“Okay,” Trinity finally replied.
She was silent as she moved to pull off her scrubs, just listening to the shallow, rhythmic breathing of the clearly infirm woman watching her, before she was left in her long sleeve shirt, underwear, and socks, before she moved over to her the other side of the bed and slipped underneath the duvet.
Yolanda rolled over and snaked her arms around Trinity’s middle, her leg coming up to hook over Trinity’s thigh as she pulled her close.
Trinity could feel Yolanda’s fever through the heated skin pressing against her own bare skin. Clearly, while she’d been rummaging through her bathroom vanity looking for flu medicine, Yolanda had taken the opportunity to shuck off her own scrubs.
Sick. Sick. Sick.
It repeated like a mantra in Trinity’s head before she willed that part of her brain to shut off for just a moment.
“Better,” Yolanda replied with a dopey smile.
Trinity studied her.
Even in the dim light of Yolanda’s bedroom late in the evening, Trinity could make out her face clearly. Yolanda’s usual frown was gone, replaced by something soft and pliable that Trinity usually only saw when she was sleeping.
Unguarded.
A soft smile played at Yolanda’s lips as she rubbed her cheek against Trinity’s upper arm.
“I miss you,” Yolanda said. “I always miss you.”
Trinity should not be doing this. It’s definitely dangerous. She’s either going to get herself sick or if going to hear something from Yolanda’s illness-based looseness. Her flu medicine-addled brain clearly was not filtering the way it normally does.
But Trinity is full of stupid ideas. So instead, she bites.
“What?” She asked softly as she pressed her head down into the pillow beside Yolanda.
“I always miss you,” Yolanda repeated. “I wish you wouldn’t leave. Not like that. In the middle of the night. Not ever.”
“I thought that you wanted to keep it casual,” Trinity replied cautiously.
“I thought I did, but…” Yolanda trailed off as her eyes fluttered closed.
“But what?” Trinity pressed. She kept her voice soft, but she felt very unsoft. And impatient.
“I don’t think I can,” Yolanda replied.
Oh.
“I don’t think I can either,” Trinity replied.
“Then let’s not. Let’s be un-casual,” Yolanda replied. As if it were that simple. Totally that easy.
Sure. Right.
“Okay,” Trinity replied quietly.
Trinity opened her mouth to say something. Anything else. But then Yolanda’s breathing changed to shallower breaths. A light snore through her open mouth. She was probably
Trinity wasn’t sure how long she spent asleep, but she woke up at least a few hours later with a desperate need to pee. She tried to extricate herself from Yolanda without waking her. Moving as carefully but quickly as she could manage.
But it clearly didn’t work as Yolanda stirred out of sleep.
“Where are you going?” Yolanda asked sleepily as she looked up at Trinity through her lashes.
“Just to the bathroom, I’ll be right back, I promise,” Trinity replied quickly.
“Good,” Yolanda replied as she let her head fall back against her pillow. “You better.”