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Emery hadn't intended to be outside when the fireworks started. It was just an unfortunate happenstance that they started as she was walking toward the building. She hears the whistle, braces herself for the boom that's supposed to follow. Nothing. It's a dud. She walks a little faster.
There's another whistle right behind it. This time the boom sounds, colors lighting up the sky. There's another one immediately behind it, somehow louder than the other. She should've expected them, honestly.
Sure it wasn't the holiday anymore, but that didn't mean anything.
People were stupid. Fireworks were never set off on only the Fourth of July.
That was what made it worse.
Fourth of July she could plan for.
Random fireworks that weren't announced? Not a chance.
Her chest feels tight. As soon as she's safely indoors, she makes a beeline for the bathroom, shoving an intern out of the way before her mind takes her all the way back to the desert. The door bangs behind her as she shoves it open and heads for the nearest stall. She's breathing heavy as she sinks to the floor, heart pounding in her ears.
Emery can smell the gunpowder. She can taste the smoke. If she closes her eyes she can see the vast span of dust, feel the heat.
She digs her nails into her palm, other hand reaching out to press against the stall wall in hopes the cool surface will keep her in the present. Damn, she should've called out of work today.
"You're okay. You're okay. You're not there. You're not there."
The sound of the fireworks have dulled, but they're still somewhat audible, and it's not helping the whole stay grounded and in the moment thing she's trying.
Emery squeezes her eyes shut.
Back. Get back, move. You need to move. It's not safe. Move.
More IEDs? Sniper? Cover fire. Behind the truck. Need to move to safety. Need new game plan.
Not safe. Not safe. You can't help them. Move. Move, Walsh.
Walsh.
Walsh!
"Dr. Walsh?" Emery gasps. She didn't recognize that voice, not at first.
"Emery?" The voice sounds again, but where is it coming from?
"Under the stall."
She looks down, the tattoo on the wrist answers her question. Trinity. Her fist is closed, something inside. "Santos?"
"Yeah. Take this, it'll help." She opens her fist.
A piece of candy sits in it. A blue raspberry Warhead.
How ironic.
Her chest tightens again. Trinity's voice is quiet, she's talking to someone else. Emery can't make out who. Her heart's too loud in her ears still. She feels…wrong. There's a part of her brain that knows she's in the Pitt. There's another part that swears she's thousands of miles away.
"What are five things you can see right now?"
She wants to fight it but she knows where this is headed. She knows Trinity is trying to help. It's not the person she'd want, she'd rather Samira, or Yolanda, hell even Jack. But she'd take what she can get.
"Your shoes. My shoes. The wall. Tiles. Toilet." She tries to force in a deep breath.
"Good. Four things you hear?"
"Your voice. My heartbeat in my ears. The…whatever the fuckin' sound the toilet makes when it's just sitting there-" she's cut off as another firework sounds outside. "That fucking…"
"Focus on my voice. Focus on me." Was Santos always this gentle? Emery couldn't remember. Granted most of what she knew came from Garcia and the short times she consulted on a case Santos was working on. "Three things you can feel."
"Uh…sweat on the back of my neck." She leans her head back against the wall. "The seam of my sock…the candy still in my hand?"
"Two things you can smell?"
"My deodorant, and whatever the hell that cologne is you're wearing." Trinity had to be close to the door. Emery couldn't see her exact position. She laughs.
"Okay, open the candy and put it in your mouth."
Emery pops the candy into her mouth anyway, coughing at the taste as the sourness takes over almost instantly.
"Oh, Jesus, Santos, this is disgusting."
"Yeah yeah, give it a few seconds, tell me what you can taste."
"It's…the sourness is fading." It's hard to talk when her mouth feels like she's swallowed a mouthful of citric acid. "I can taste-fuck-blue raspberry. It's not as sour now…kind of sweet."
Trinity hums. There's a silence that follows. It's comfortable.
Emery isn't sure how long she and Trinity just sit there.
"Thank you." Emery whispers. She's not sure she's heard.
"Yeah." Trinity whispers back. "You almost bowled over an intern…Samira would've came in, but she got tied up in a case. She wanted to, promise. I'm using you as an excuse to get away from charting."
Emery chuckles, actually chuckles.
Her chest doesn't feel as tight, but her head is starting to hurt.
"Hey…I may not know what it's like, what you went through, but I know what it's like to go through some shit. I know we're also not that close, but…if you need someone who gets the trapped in your head thing. Someone that isn't Abbot…"
"Thanks, Santos. Might take you up on that one day."