Chapter Text
“C’mon,” Trinity motioned to the open door beside her. “Grab your things, we’re heading out.” She was not convinced that opening her apartment to Whitaker was the best idea, but it made sense in the moment, especially seeing how he had been living for the past few weeks. The next fifteen minutes were spent allowing him to gather the meager amount of belongings he had managed to sneak up the eighth floor. He rifled through textbooks that were more expensive than Trinity’s rent, various shirts and pants, and a few personal items strewn about the floor and spare beds. He ran his fingers along the edge of a wooden picture frame, holding a photo of a young Dennis, not much older than five years old. He was in a classic Robin costume, while his older brother towered above him in a Batman costume. He lovingly set it down on the pile of hoodies before grabbing his toiletries bag and scurrying to the bathroom. Trinity glanced up from her phone to see the picture frame atop the tower of clothes as if it were a royal pedestal. She took a few steps over before inspecting it further. There was a distinct nostalgic charm present; the faded yellow date in the bottom left-hand corner read 10/31/2004, and the photo quality could be described as grainy if you were feeling generous.
It was odd, learning so much about Dennis this quickly. They had fast-tracked what should have been a simple coworker relationship. She looked up from the photo before calling out, “This you and your brother, Huckleberry?”
Dennis froze in place for half a moment. The name still stung a little bit, but no bite of condescension lingered in Trinity’s voice. He answered plainly,
“Yes, one of them at least. He’s my middle brother, Cole.”
“You two still close?” she probed. Best to familiarize herself with her roommate now, she supposed.
Dennis froze again, his right hand hovering above the bathroom vanity drawer before glancing at himself once more in the mirror, as if searching for a way to dredge up old memories or find Cole’s reflection. He only found himself tired, worn, and beaten from the day. He couldn’t believe the bags under his eyes. He then nodded to nobody but himself before answering. “Yeah, we still talk a lot. He’s been blowing up my phone today, asking how the shift has been going.”
“You tell him you’re living here?” Maybe that was a smidge intrusive, but it wouldn’t be the first time she let something less than savory slip.
For a moment, nothing but silence drifted out of the bathroom. Then, Dennis answered. “You’re the only one who knows I’m here. If you could keep it that way, I—I’d really appreciate it.” He sounded desperate, and Trinity felt guilty for prodding him on a stressful day for both of them.
Reflecting on the day itself, Trinity’s head began to spin; events unfurled, all of them so far away despite having occurred just this morning. Well. I confronted that creep dad, presumably got Langdon fired, and made a complete fool of myself stabbing Garcia with that scalpel. And then a goddamn shooting. Christ, I need a cigarette. On top of it all, she was going home with a new roommate in tow. In a low voice, she sighed while whispering to herself: “What a fuckin’ day.”
She scanned the rest of the “apartment” for any sign of Huckleberry’s family. Nothing. The photo of Cole remained the sole proof that Dennis wasn’t some orphan who had been kicking it solo for years. His belongings felt unassuming and discreet as the man himself. Nothing too crazy —just took what he needed. She had to give him respect for the dedication.
Dennis broke the silence once again. “My mom and dad have been asking to see me ever since I moved out here, and I’ve been avoiding that conversation fairly well, but Cole and I have rarely gone four months without seeing each other, so it’s been a lot harder to pretend like I don’t have time to see him.”
“Jesus, Huckleberry, don’t think I’m allowing a Whitaker family reunion at the apartment. I’ve only got a single spare room.”
Dennis waved his hand sheepishly as he flicked the bathroom light off. “Right, right, I promise I’ll have him get a hotel room or something.”
Trinity cringed internally. She had meant it as a joke, but Huckleberry had conceded with such little pushback that it revealed how desperate and grateful he was, even if he was averse to letting the feigned nonchalance slip. As if to pay recompense, she outstretched an arm to hold one of his book bags and lighten the load. It wasn’t like he needed it; however, in the brief moment he was dancing to Chaka Khan with his back turned to her, Trinity was shocked to see that under his scrubs, he had a stocky physique and well-defined back muscles. All the talk about being a farm boy did have merit; she misjudged him by assuming a gust of wind would’ve knocked him over. Dennis Whitaker remained full of surprises.
He slung his two backpacks over his shoulder with ease, despite their evidently heavy weight and bulging size. They were definitely packed as tightly as possible, both of them poised to burst wide open and send zippers scattering over the dark, empty floor. Whitaker practically skipped out of the inpatient room, rushing ahead of Trinity, before halting dead in his tracks underneath the exit sign. He turned to her, the soft red glow illuminating his embarrassed demeanor. “I uh—I just realized I have no clue where I am going. Do you have a car? Are we taking a bus?”
Trinity stifled a chuckle before it escaped her chest. Out of her back pocket, she pulled her car keys and shook them a little. She brushed past him before cocking her head to the left, signifying for Dennis to follow. He carried on alongside her in utter silence, as if another noise would alert the entire hospital to their presence, or that Trinity would change her mind in the final moment before they left the floor. Only accompanied by the whir of the elevator on the ride down, Dennis piped up after swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, sheepishly glancing at Trinity, who hadn’t broken attention from watching the floors tick down.
“So, where do you live?” He inquired
Trinity simply replied: “Garfield. Around fifteen minutes from here. We’ll take 28 and cross the river.”
He nodded. “You already know your way around the city pretty well, then.”
She clicked her tongue in response. “Maybe it’s an old person thing to do, but I forced myself to get lost in the city during my move. I can’t arrive in a new city and be totally unprepared. Feels foolish, y’know? My mom used to have me use the map in the glove compartment or print out MapQuests when we were going on vacation or a road trip, taught me to be self-sufficient when I was out of my element.”
Dennis nodded along. It made sense; from the moment he and Trinity met, she seemed prepared for the worst, coiled like a spring and ready to pounce on any new challenge that presented itself. Perhaps that’s why she invited him to live with her at the drop of a hat. He, on the other hand, felt woefully unprepared for the past few weeks, and now, outside the four walls of The Pitt, the entire city seemed poised to swallow him whole.
“Comes in handy when working in emergency medicine, then, huh?”
Trinity shrugged. “For the time being, yeah. I really want to work in surgery, but I’m working on this internship with the hope of transferring over. I’m just happy to get some experience.” She pushed open the glass doors, and the two entered the parking lot. Trinity’s car was a worn and well-loved red sedan, and while hoisting his belongings into the backseat, Dennis fought the temptation to climb in with them, as if Trinity were his Uber driver. He was hit with the slightest twinge of what felt like embarrassment, but Dennis knew it was guilt about coming home with her. He was determined not to let Trinity’s generosity dissolve into something she’d regret.
To Dennis’ relief, Trinity seemed content to let the events of the day be raked out in silence, as neither spoke of the grueling shift the two had just endured. The rocking of the car down the interstate, married with the songs from the radio, served as the only noise to accompany the ride home, and the pair coaxed Dennis into a haze-like sleep, just barely conscious of the car ride. Turning a corner, Trinity tapped his shoulder, which jolted Dennis awake in a flash. He rubbed his weary eyes as she pointed to his right, motioning to a bus stop.
“This is the bus that’ll take you to the Pitt. Just ride it down to North Avenue and Sandusky Street.”
“Thank you, Trinit—I mean Santos, I appreciate it.” Dennis stifled a nervous laugh and felt the air around him start to get warm, especially underneath his arms and around his neck.
Trinity exhaled through her nose, followed by a snicker. “Oh, relax, Huckleberry. We are now living together; you can call me Trinity. I just thought I should let you know of the nearest bus stop, cause I am certainly not driving your ass every time you need to go somewhere.” She leaned way forward past Dennis’ face, glancing right then left before holding her hand to Dennis’ chest. “Hold what ya got,” she warned, before flooring the gas and veering so far left that Dennis’ backpack careened across the backseat and kissed the driver’s side with a loud thunk.
Once back to a stable position, Trinity resumed calmly, “Besides, you’ve gotta familiarize yourself with the city, and I certainly will not be around to keep you on track.” A small grin crept up onto her face, and the smile immediately put Dennis at ease.
He smiled back, relieved at the sincerity in her statement, and he actively felt some of the creeping anxiety that had been plaguing his body start to recede. He let out a long exhale, letting it assuage and soothe him for the remainder of the ride. After a smooth parallel park, Trinity grabbed their things and began trekking to the apartment, which lay above a local sandwich shop. It was closed, but Dennis made a note to peek in, seeing the overturned chairs and empty countertops and checking out the hours on the door.
“Huckleberry, over here,” Trinity waved Dennis over to the glass door to grab his attention. “The code for this first door to get in is going to be 5-6-6-7. Got it?” She punched in the code and swung the door open before welcoming him in. The stairs were felt, muffling the thumping of their footsteps before stopping at the first door on the right. “Code for this door is 1-3-9-8. If you forget it, it’s also written on the fridge, or just- write it down in your phone.” Trinity threw her hands up at the idea, and Dennis quickly realized asking her for the code at any point would be met with incessant teasing. He wasn’t quite sure what he predicted the interior of Trinity’s apartment to look like; truthfully, he had such an overwhelming day that it hadn’t even begun to cross his mind. He quickly got his answer, however, when she swung the door open into an industrial-style apartment full of exposed brick and ventilation overhead. The left side of the apartment was the living room, with tall windows that overlooked the street down below. Posters for numerous 70s bands dotted the sheetrock wall facing the television. From the corner of his eye, Dennis could make out Bread’s Guitar Man, Jefferson Starship’s Red Octopus, and The Runaways’ Waitin’ For The Night, all three causing him to smile. They were all bands his dad listened to when Dennis was growing up, and seeing them here gave him a small token of familiarity and home.
The kitchen lay to the right of the door and was on the smaller side, but clearly planned for efficiency. What little counter space provided was designated for prep with cutting boards and a stand mixer, and the space next to the sink was used for clean up. The rest of the island was used for seating, with three barstools wrapped around the front of it.
“You cook often?” Dennis questioned as he followed Trinity down the hall.
“Yep. Hope you like Adobo.”
Dennis’ stomach grumbled. It had been a while since somebody had cooked for him. Hell, it had been a while since HE was able to cook for someone.
“Bathroom is the first door on the left, my room is on the right, and yours will be at the end of the hall. I’ll have to wash your sheets real quick, unless you’re fine just sleeping on the mattress for tonight?”
Dennis swayed side to side nonchalantly. “I’m fine with no sheets for tonight, don’t worry about it. Just happy to have in-unit laundry.”
“Oh my god, right?” Trinity breathed a sigh of relief. She led him to his bedroom and motioned vaguely. It was small and tidy, but no more than he needed. His window on the farthest wall from the door overlooked the back side of the building. Soft, orange streetlight filtered in, and a few cars passed this late at night, a welcome change from the bustle of the heart of Pittsburgh.
“I’ll let you get settled in and figure out where you want your things. When you take off your scrubs, throw them in the plastic hamper on top of the washing machine, and I’ll wash ours together.” With that, Trinity left him to his own devices.
Not in his wildest dreams did he imagine this was where the day would lead him. Too much of his own time had been focused on finishing his rotations that he had forgotten what basic home comforts and necessities looked like. The walls were bare, and there lay an empty desk flush with the right wall. Dennis smiled at the idea of being able to create a space for himself.
Trinity poked her head through the door behind him. “Getting settled?”
Dennis rubbed his forehead, finally letting the exhaustion of the day cascade over him. “Yeah, it’s fantastic. Thanks again.”
She sarcastically waved her hand at him. “I’m working side by side with you, and you being too exhausted to function is a liability. Can’t have you falling asleep and let one of my patients die mid-procedure.”
She remarked in jest, but it stung slightly, given the day’s events. Everyone at Pitt lost someone today, so he was in no position to rebut.
Trinity turned on her heel before calling back to him. “I’m gonna order some food and then shower. Do you want anything?”
Dennis nodded, coming out to glance at the menu on Trinity’s phone. He immediately found the cheapest item possible: mashed potatoes.
“Dammit, Huckleberry, I need you to eat something real. I’m covering you this time, but next time I’m charging you with interest.” A devilish grin began to form on her face. He caved and ordered a wing combo at Trinity’s request, and they went their separate ways for the next thirty minutes. She took the first turn in the bathroom and shower, while Dennis unpacked his things, hung up his clothes and scrubs in the spare closet, and the textbooks found new homes on the nightstand and the ottoman at the end of his bed.
Before long, Dennis’ things were put away, clothes neatly folded in a dresser or closet, luxuries he didn’t have while living at the hospital. Down the hall, Trinity announced she was finished with her shower before she shut her bedroom door. Dennis scampered out with his clothes to finally be rid of all the various liquids he’d been doused with throughout the day. The bathroom was billowing with steam from Trinity’s shower, but still he cranked the knob for the hottest water possible, as he dared let his mind wander and dwell on the events of the day. He was now part of the street team, had lost patients, and watched as one of his attendings completely broke down in front of him. Everyone had told him tonight was an anomaly, but even beyond the mass casualties of Pittfest, Whitaker was thoroughly beaten. He certainly knew he wasn’t alone, least of all Dr. Robby and Dana. What kind of psycho punches a nurse? In the middle of the rush, Dr. Robby had become a hollow shell of himself, and Dennis battled with the thought of whether that was an anomaly as well. He felt so powerless to help in the moment before he decided to stand and hoist the older man alongside him, although it seemed much to Robby’s chagrin. He wondered how he was faring now: was he out with the other doctors? Did he just go home and sleep it off? What does one do to even recuperate from a day like today? Dennis caught his mind wandering. He had been in the shower far after he finished rinsing off, so he stepped out and his ramblings slipped away like the soap suds.
By the time he had slipped into a comfortable combo of sweats and an old T-shirt, the food had arrived. The real hunger pangs started to set in as he sat next to Trinity at the barstools, where she had set out an extra plate and opened a Wingstop ranch for him. Pulling his seat in, Dennis beamed. “You have no clue how excited I am to sleep in a real bed tonight instead of a cot.”
Trinity pushed his shoulder in defiance. “It’s really nothing, Huckleberry. I like you. Plus, you’re an extra hand with the housework,” she teased.
The pressure that had been building in the center of his chest and shoulders evaporated, and he felt his anxiety start to dissipate. His breathing grew steadier and his body loosened all around, simply due to him longer feeling like an imposition. Dennis smiled back at her. “I like you too, despite the nicknames and sarcasm.”
“Ahhh, c’mon, isn’t that just…part of the charm?” She blinked at him teasingly. The pair engaged in trite small talk about their day on the floor, until Trinity pushed the question, “What’s something you saw today that you never would’ve anticipated ever happening in your rotations?
Dennis was immediately thrown back in Pedes, with Robby pushing him away and telling him to leave him be. Yeah, never thought I’d see that, he thought. But his guilty conscience tugged at him too sharply, like it was dragging him away from something he couldn’t have. He instead pivoted to bringing up Dana getting punched on her smoke break by O’Driscoll.
Trinity instantly agreed. “Oh my fucking god, right? That was insane. I knew nurses and doctors were getting assaulted, but I never thought it would happen in the parking lot. She should sue.” The conversation petered out after that, as if there was a collective realization that neither of them really wanted to rehash the day anymore and would sooner sleep it off.
As they cleaned up dinner, Dennis was unsure of what came next. He was so used to living alone these days that he took the evening on his own accord and was entirely unsure if Trinity had something else in mind. “Sooo…” he began awkwardly, “are we going to bed?”
“By bed, you mean to say we’re going to sleep, only to sit in the dark on our phones and scroll for an hour to,” she held up air quotes, “decompress.” “Then yeah, I’m going to bed.”
Dennis was unsure whether it was intended as a joke, but it sounded like the most appealing activity at the moment, so they said their goodnights. Dennis crawled into bed and set his alarms to repeat the day tomorrow. Instead of scrolling, he found himself staring straight up. It was alien to stare at a regular ceiling for once, rather than the ceiling tiles of the Pitt inpatient rooms. Even now, far away from work and his old room, he kept finding himself back at the hospital reliving the day’s events over and over in his mind. More specifically, Dennis couldn’t shake his thoughts of Dr. Robby. His breakdown had been one of the most rattling things he had seen that day, and although it felt a little selfish, Dennis pondered if Robby would have been okay without his intervention. Sure, he pushed him away after getting the older man up, but in that moment, he felt indispensable to Robby, which Dennis replayed over and over in his head like a skipping DVD.