Chapter Text
Trinity
***
Trinity hated Christmas.
She’d hated it since she was old enough to remember. The ruined expectations when her parents didn’t bother to wrap presents for her, the shouting matches at family dinners, the false cheer that seemed to surround everyone and everything.
Usually she worked on Christmas. She worked as much as possible through the whole of December and most of January just for good measure.
This year, things were slightly different.
She was still working on Christmas. But she’d been co-erced into taking off a day a week before Christmas so that she could attend a multi-denominational holiday gathering at Robby’s place.
Basically, Christmas dinner at her boss’s house.
In other circumstances, Trinity would be fighting the urge to gouge out her eyes with a rusty spoon just to have an excuse not to go. Instead, she was… almost looking forward to it.
Things were finally getting back to normal. Robby returned to work in October, slipping back in as though he’d never been gone. He and Huckleberry had been weird for a few days, dancing around whatever happened in Nebraska that Dennis refused to tell her about.
She sorta hoped they’d boned and got it out of their systems, but also knew that might not be the best thing for them emotionally or whatever.
Either way, it seemed that the slight awkwardness was behind them, and what was left was a surprisingly domestic peace. Robby bought Huckleberry new sneakers, and Dennis I can handle it by myself even if it kills me Whitaker let him. When Huck and Trinity went over to Robby’s, which had stayed a common occurrence, he moved around the kitchen like he owned the place. Rather than be irritated, Robby always just looked at him with this soft, love-struck expression that made Trinity want to vomit.
And also left her, a tiny bit, pleased.
But mainly the puke.
Miracle of miracles, the higher ups had decided to keep the two-attending policy even after Robby came back, which meant that work was somewhat less chaotic. Robby, used to doing the work of half a dozen doctors at one time, was able to take a breath on occasion. It was nice to see him allowed time to handle other things than just constant incoming traumas and cases that pulled him in ten different directions at once.
It was nice, too, that he had no excuses not to make the time to see a therapist.
He’d been seeing one now for almost three months. She knew, because he’d admitted it to her, one night when she’d had a nightmare that he was dead, that he’d killed himself and she found his body cold and bloody and she’d called him half hysterical just to make sure that he was still alive. He’d told her, softly, that he was getting the help he needed. That the psychologist Jack recommended is kicking my ass, but in a good way.
She knew he was working on fixing things that had been left broken far too long. And it showed. He smiled more. Laughed more. He set healthy boundaries to keep work from becoming his whole life again.
He and Langdon had patched things up for the most part - which would have annoyed the hell out of Trinity if she and Langdon hadn’t also started cautiously moving past their issues.
It wasn’t publicly admitting to stealing drugs from the hospital, but sending her an email in which he thanked her for calling him out, credited her with saving his life, admitted that he’d been both unprofessional and needlessly cruel to her, asked her forgiveness but said that he would make sure to request that she not be put with him on future cases if she was still uncomfortable, and then conveniently “accidentally” cc’ing it to the whole ED had gone a long way to making her believe he was actually sincere in having changed.
She wanted him punished for what he’d done, both to patients and to her. But more than that, selfishly, she’d wanted validation for her actions. She’d done the right thing. And Langdon thanking her for that, acknowledging that she was right, about everything, helped bridge the gap between resentment and acceptance.
She didn’t like him. He was still a jerkoff. But she could manage to be around him for longer than ten minutes without wanting to strangle him, so that was something.
When he showed up at Robby’s for their knock-off Christmas party, Trinity groaned, but only half meant it. Mel, who was sitting beside her sipping mulled wine, lit up like a Christmas tree. Which was good because Robby’s house didn’t have one, so the place could use some extra cheer. She and Langdon immediately started in discussing some sort of festival or reenactment or something that Trinity had no interest in, so she walked away and ended up being the one to answer the door when Robby’s obnoxious doorbell chimed.
She practically ripped the door off its hinges in an effort to keep whoever was on the other side from ringing it again.
“-can just walk in,” Abbot was saying, standing behind Mohan. But he was saying it with his lips pressed against her neck, while she grinned and squirmed and playfully swatted him away.
“Uh…”
“Shit. Sorry Santos. Jack-” Samira elbowed him lightly, and he straightened, an entirely unrepentant smirk on his face.
“Evening, Santos.”
Trinity just stood back, slack jawed, as they walked into the house. How had that one gotten by her?
***
Dinner, unsurprisingly, went off without a hitch. The darkest part of the night was when she overheard Langdon admitting to Robby that he and Abby were getting divorced. Abby had wanted to support him during his recovery, but the relationship had been irrevocably changed, and while they were handling things amicably, he was still gutted. Trinity silently backed away from the exchange, thankfully unnoticed by Langdon, and returned to where Dennis was swapping stories with Abbott about Robby’s weird habits.
Trinity had stopped flinching when someone asked her about Yolanda, and didn’t have to be defensive about her plans for New Year’s Eve. She had a date already lined up, for once. With a cute girl she’d met at the grocery store and bonded with over a shared love of caramel macchiato. Georgie was sweet, funny, unbearably wholesome, and fantastically tactile. She was pretty much the exact opposite of what Trinity usually went for - also being four years younger than Trinity - which actually had Trinity hoping that this relationship might just last.
Call her a romantic at heart, but maybe she wouldn’t die alone after all.
Towards the end of the night, after Mel had taken off and Langdon got an Uber to his new apartment, and others were starting to pass out on various chairs and draped across the couches, Trinity heard a sniffle from the kitchen. She approached cautiously, not wanting to interrupt a fraught moment, but also not wanting to just walk away if someone needed help.
“-you don’t even celebrate Christmas,” Dennis said, exasperated.
“Yeah, but you do.” Robby’s voice, soft, low. “Do you like it?”
Another sniffle. “Do I like it?” Incredulous - which was a hard note to make Dennis hit, so that must have been a very stupid question. Trinity wished she could see what Robby had gotten him. “I love it.” There was a pause, and when she risked peeking around the corner, they were hugging, bodies pressed close together, Robby’s face in Dennis’s curls. “Thank you.”
There was more, and Trinity wanted to know what, exactly was going on there, but she also didn’t want to invade her friends’ privacy any more than she already had. She slipped back to the living room to elbow Abbott over on the couch.
For the first time in her life, Christmas hadn’t been so bad. And she thought maybe it would be okay if they did this again next year. But this time she could be the one showing up with a date.
***
Mel
***
Mel looked down at the card in her hand and then back up again, fighting a blush. She’d been waiting for Frank to come in, but was beginning to think she’d missed him because shift was about to start and he still hadn’t come through the locker room.
Maybe it was a sign that she shouldn’t give him the card.
It was stupid to give a co-worker a valentine anyways. Right? Right. It definitely was. Mel didn’t even like Valentine's day. It had always been a disaster in school, all the kids putting those decorated shoe boxes on their desks and getting cards put in them from other students. Popular kids ended up with boxes stuffed to bursting with valentines, while kids like her got one from the teacher, and maybe a generic box of conversation hearts added in out of pity.
She had wondered, when she spotted the little card she was now clutching in her hand, if she should get cards for everyone on day shift. That would make it less weird than giving one to just one co-worker, surely. But then, if she got a pack of generic cards for everyone else, she’d still want to give the funny card to Frank, which would be just as much of a giveaway. She could try to find individually curated cards for each of her co-workers, and give them out, but time had gotten away from her and now here she was, just the one card in her shaking hands, and no Frank in sight.
She had almost decided to throw the card away, when the door to the locker room opened. Her heart leaped, and then crashed when she saw it was Dr. Whitaker coming in. She didn’t want him to ask her about the card, so she stayed behind the second rows of lockers. She’d give Frank five more minutes, and then if he didn’t show up, she’d take it as a sign that this was a stupid idea and put the card in the trash.
“There you are,” Dr. Robby said, coming in from the other side of the room. “Thanks for coming in last minute. Langdon’s sick, and with it being a holiday, I wasn’t sure anyone else would be free.”
“No big deal. You know I don’t have any Valentine's day plans.”
“Dennis…”
“I’m not waiting,” Dr. Whitaker said, in a tone that sounded like anything but the truth. “I’m just not… actively seeking anything else.”
There was a heavy sigh, and then Robby said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could just… fix it. Erase all the barriers. Get better.”
“Robby, stop. Don’t apologize. I’m right where I want to be. I’m happy. I’m glad that I get to have you in my life, however you’ll allow. That’s not something that’s on a schedule, and it’s not something you have to apologize for.” Another sigh, a beat of silence, and then, “here.”
“A flower?”
“It’s a peony.”
“It’s beautiful.” Dr. Robby still sounded a little bemused.
“You can look it up when we’re off shift. I thought it was fitting.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Another pause, and then, tentatively, “see you in there?” A locker door shutting, footsteps retreating, and suddenly Mel was alone in the room again.
She considered what she’d just heard.
When she’d seen Dr. Robby and Dr. Whitaker kiss on New Year’s Eve, she assumed it was just the traditional midnight celebration kind. If she’d been standing conveniently near Frank for similar reasons, well no one could prove that. Now, though, she wondered if it wasn’t something else.
Becca had been obsessed with the language of flowers for years. She would send elaborate messages to Mel through flowers she picked around the city, leaving Mel scrambling to decode them before dinner.
She knew that peonies symbolized slow blooming, gentle love.
They also symbolized bashfulness, but Mel didn’t think that applied here.
Dennis had gotten Dr. Robby a peony on Valentine’s day. He had told Dr. Robby that he didn’t have plans with anyone else. That he was happy to wait. She felt a sympathetic pang in her heart.
It wasn’t stupid, to give someone a token on Valentine’s day. Not if it was someone you cared about. Someone important to you.
Mel put the card in her locker instead of the trash. She’d find a quiet moment to give it to Frank tomorrow. Maybe he’d have one for her, too.
***
Robby
**”
Dr. Brint engaged in a staring match with Robby for the eighth time in their acquaintance.
Robby wasn’t sure that was normal, between therapist and patient. Then again, Robby was not a regular patient, and he was beginning to see that Brint was no regular psychologist.
Robby had tried, genuinely tried, to make it work with the therapists that Caleb had suggested. But the first time they gave him that soft look full of empathy and told him to be kind to himself, he’d gotten up and walked out.
Thankfully, Brint was not that kind of person. In fact, the doctor’s first comment about hearing that Robby had planned to drive off to Alberta on his motorcycle was, “that sounds spectacularly stupid.” And Robby had liked Brint ever since.
It wasn’t that Brint phrased things all that differently than Jack, or Dana, or even fucking patients had phrased it. It was that shrinks tended to treat people like Robby with kid gloves, all gentleness and uplifting phrases. Robby didn’t want that. He wanted to open up the wound, scrub it clean, and stitch the edges together neatly. He didn’t want to be coddled. Not by his therapist. It might be something he longed for in his personal life, but not professionally. He didn’t want to pay for the privilege to whine to a shrink and have them tell him how valid all his petty feelings were.
“You do realize that the hospital pays me by the hour whether you talk to me or not,” Brint said mildly, still not blinking.
“Must be nice,” Robby returned just as mildly. Also not blinking.
“How’s Dennis doing?”
Robby blinked.
Fuck.
“Fine.”
“He must be getting close to starting his R2 year. That can be tough.”
Robby looked at Brint suspiciously, expecting some kind of trap. “It can.”
“Does he have a good support system in place?”
Unfortunately, Brint, that fucker, knew exactly how to draw Robby out. And talking about Dennis - anything relating to his safety, his health, his happiness - was just the ticket. Robby couldn’t stop himself. “I like to think so. He’s remained close to several other doctors on shift, has people he’s comfortable going to for help if he needs it. He’s been working well under Al-Hashimi, and even taken on a few more night shifts with Jack.”
“What about outside of the hospital? Does he have any network there?”
Robby’s face darkened as he recalled Dennis’s family. “Not really. The hospital takes up most of his time, and his family is - not good.”
Brint’s brows rose, but the subject wasn’t pushed.
“He lives with another doctor, though, doesn’t he?”
Robby nodded. “Santos. Trinity. They’ve been roommates since their first day in the Pitt.”
“They’re close?”
“Like siblings.”
“This is the same woman you've spoken of before, correct? She’s someone you’re close with as well, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. We’re… a lot alike. She needed some support herself when she started, and there was that mess with Langdon on top of everything, and we opened up a bit to each other.”
“You’ve said that she was one of the major factors in your decision not to end your life last July.”
“Yes.”
“And how does it make you feel, having the woman you have something of a fatherly role toward, being friends and roommates with the man you’re romantically interested in?”
Shit shitty fucking fuck.
This was the problem with Brint. You thought you were just answering basic questions, and then wham, you got punched in the face with something like that.
“Jesus.” Robby glowered. “That’s really how you want to play this?”
Brint shrugged, nonchalant.
“It’s - it is what it is.”
“Very descriptive.”
“I like that Trinity has Dennis as a friend. I like that Dennis has Trinity there for him. I like being there for Trinity, if she ever needs. Is it weird that someone I’m - That Dennis is best friends with the girl I-” Robby stopped, shaking his head. “Yeah. It’s weird. It’s messy as hell. It’s uncomfortable at times. It reminds me how inappropriate all of this is.”
Brint looked contemplative. “How is it inappropriate?”
“You mean parenting one employee or trying to fuck the other? Take your pick.”
Brint snorted. “Dramatic as always, Robby. Young doctors often form close relationships with those they learn from. Were you not close with Dr. Adamson? Did you find his mentorship inappropriate? Did you feel like he crossed any boundaries by bringing you into his family as you got to know each other better?”
“Stop it, you know I didn’t. It was different, with Adamson.”
“Why?”
“Because he was…” Robby trailed off, and Brint sighed, taking off a pair of horn rimmed glasses and setting them down on the desk.
“Because you hold yourself to an impossible standard that you don’t expect anyone else to meet, and yet criticize yourself when you fail to meet it. Because good things are only for other people, not for you. Somehow you don’t deserve them. You twist them, ruin them just by touching them.”
“What if that’s true?” Robby asked quietly, eyes on the floor.
“Does Dr. Santos seem worse than before you met her?”
On that count, at least, Robby felt some comfort. Some pride, even. Trinity had come a long way in the two years that she’d been working at PTMC, and Robby knew that she was in a healthier place emotionally and mentally than she had been when she arrived. “No, she’s… better.”
“I’m glad you can acknowledge that much, at least.” Brint picked up the glasses again and put them on, smiling. “Now as for the employee you’re trying to fuck - I’m paraphrasing here, but that was the jist, wasn’t it?” Robby had the grace to cringe. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you actually are trying to sleep with Dr. Whitaker. In fact, I think, as I understand it, you’ve had multiple opportunities to sleep with him, and you refused. That Dr. Whitaker is ready and willing to engage in a romantic and sexual relationship with you, but that you are the one holding back. So I’ll repeat my question - how is this inappropriate?”
“Because I want to,” Robby snapped. “I want him.”
“Sexually?”
“Yes! But - no. Not just that. Don’t you get it? That’s not the fucking problem. If all this was, was just pent up lust, either I’d push it aside or we’d fuck and get it out of our systems. We’re both adults. We could handle it and still be professionals.”
“Then what’s the real issue, Robby?”
“I want more than that. I want everything. Dennis is - he’s tough as nails, and smart and kind and funny and he fits me. I spent my life trying to ignore my issues, sublimating them or purposely pursuing the opposite of what I wanted deep down. Because it’s twisted. I want a mother’s love from someone I’m being a daddy to. I want someone who will be attached to me unconditionally, inescapably, wholly, someone who wants to take care of me and be fucking gentle with me in a way I don’t know how to be with myself - but I also have this need to provide and fix things and smother and protect… I want to spoil someone, take care of them right back, satisfy them - and I want that someone to be a sweet little R2 with a family more fucked up than my own and daddy issues for days and a drive to save the whole fucking world.”
Brint sighed. “Robby, you do realize what you’ve just described is a healthy, natural, balanced relationship between two consenting adults, right?”
“Excuse me?”
“You want what everyone wants, Robby! Someone who gets you, who suits you. Someone who will be good to you and will let you be good to them. You want to take care of someone and let them take care of you. That’s partnership. And so what if Dr. Whitaker has daddy issues? You’ve got your own to match, and so does the whole rest of the world. We’re all either trying to replicate the unconditional love we got from our parents, or seeking the kind of love we didn’t get. That’s not something special and deviant about you, Robby.”
It sounded way too easy the way Brint put it. Like he could just… be allowed to want Dennis the way he did. And if it had been said to him gently, and kindly, Robby would have scoffed and walked out. But Brint’s straight-forward, no nonsense approach made Robby actually stop to listen.
“And, what, I just ignore the fact that I’m more than twenty years older than him and his boss? You don’t have anything to say about the ethics of that?”
“You’ve said that the age issue doesn’t bother Dr. Whitaker. That for him, culturally, it’s fairly normal.”
“You make it sound like he’s from another world.”
“In a way, he is. A rural community in the midwest is far removed from a city on the east coast. Things that are normal to him probably seem strange to you and vice versa. Having a partner significantly older than you is clearly something you’re not used to seeing. But to him, it’s perfectly ordinary.”
“I’ll be old and useless far before him. A burden.”
Brint scoffed. “Oh please. My own father-in-law is almost eighty and still rides his bike around town looking for good places to go metal detecting and picking up littered aluminum cans - which he does specifically so that he can bitch about it. You’re a healthy, active guy. There’s no reason to think that a tough bastard like you won’t live to be one hundred.”
“He’s in the prime of his life. He’s cute, he’s a doctor, he could have his pick of guys that lean that way, and there’s no reason for him to stoop to a geriatric.”
“Look, I understand that you can’t just switch off your feelings about this. Clearly it’s a big deal to you. I suggest you talk to Dr. Whitaker about it. Let him know what you’re struggling with and see what he thinks. He might surprise you.”
“And if I could just magically get over the age issue, we’re just ignoring the boss issue?”
“Putting aside the fact that this would not be the first supervisor/employee relationship, nor the last, I know you know that I know Dennis is supervised by the second attending, and that you don’t do any of his evaluations. When the time comes, you won’t be the one writing his recommendation letter. The only thing that you could abuse your position for is hiring him as an attending after he finishes his R4 if he’s not competent for the job. But I’ve heard enough from you and from others to know that won’t be an issue. So no, I’m not worried about the ethics of you dating Dr. Whitaker.”
Robby felt both relieved and cornered. Brint was right - they’d done everything possible to make sure that Dennis didn’t get any unfair advantage and there was no chance of any unfair repercussions should things go badly between them. He also had a clear line to alternate supervision should he feel uncomfortable in any way with the relationship.
Robby had made the same offer to Trinity, open ended so that she could take it at any point, to switch her supervision to an alternative attending if she was ever uncomfortable working beneath him.
She’d never once even considered it.
“You know… that I know… that you know?” Robby said with one brow raised. “Really?”
“The phrasing was appropriate, if convoluted, and you’re deflecting.”
“Something I happen to be very good at. Oh, will you look at the time. It seems our hour is up. I’ll see you next week, Dr. Brint.”
Brint caught Robby’s arm as he rose, looking up at him with sincere, earnest eyes. “Just talk to him, Robby. That’s all I’m asking. Communicate your concerns to him, and stop running from your emotions. Trust him to know his needs and do what will make him happy.”
That was so much easier said than done.
***
The picture had come in the mail, along with a little card. Jane - now named Jasmine, over a year old, smiling at the camera and flashing her pearly milk teeth. She’d changed so much in the year since she’d gone off to her foster home, and yet Robby could still see the lines of the infant he’d held against his chest on the night he’d decided to end it all. The fosters, who were on their way to adopting Jasmine two months down the line, wanted to include him in their small commemoration of her being in their lives for a year. They wrote that they were grateful that she’d had a soft place to land, after she’d been abandoned, and hoped he was doing well.
Robby hung the picture on the fridge and texted Dennis to ask him to come for dinner.