Work Text:
MARCH 2026
“Doctor Santos.”
Trinity cut off mid sentence and looked over to see Doctor Robby watching her with a stern expression. “Go check on your other patients, I’ll take over here.”
Trinity opened her mouth again to argue, but the look Robby gave her convinced her that this was not something she should push back on. So with a curt nod, she slipped out of the room.
Dana glanced up as she stormed by, but with a shake of the head decided she was better off not asking. No one else made any effort as she slipped into the break room and started banging around, first going for a cup of the stale coffee that had likely been burning in the pot for the last two hours, then deciding on water instead, before giving it all up as a bad job and just leaning against the counter with her arms folded as she mentally prepared for the dressing down she would get from her attending when he was done smoothing over the mess she had made with the abused child and his asshole dad in South Sixteen.
She had tried to stay detached, aloof, professional. And yes, she had been wrong before. But the kid was clearly scared of saying anything that would piss off his father, and there were older bruises, and that wrist fracture was the kind you get when someone grabs you and twists in just the wrong way.
He reminded her so much of herself, afraid to piss off her own parents who had vacillated between ‘don’t give a shit about you’ and ‘you’re breathing too close to my air so you must pay’ for most of her childhood – at least until she had moved out at seventeen and laid low with a group of friends in a shitty rundown apartment until she turned eighteen and didn’t have to worry about being dragged back.
It wasn’t that Trinity was unaware of her faults. She knew abuse cases would always be an Achilles heel for her. And she really did try to avoid being accusatory. But then that bastard had looked at her with such a smug leer, and she just heard static. She couldn’t even remember what she had shouted at him before Robby had come in, likely drawn by the raised voices.
The sounds of the ED spiked and then dimmed, and Trinity looked up, seeing her boss leaning against the door. He was watching her with a carefully neutral expression but she was sure she could see concern in there as well.
It pissed her off.
“I know I shouldn’t have yelled,” she started, wanting to say something, anything, that might explain and hopefully be enough to not get a formal reprimand or any disciplinary action that could have lasting impact. She was only halfway through her intern year, she really couldn’t afford to make these kinds of mistakes. “I just -”
She was once again cut off as Robby held up one hand, and resigned herself for whatever was to come.
“Are you OK?”
Trinity blinked, confused. Robby’s voice was soft, no traces of anger for all he must have had to really do some fast talking to calm that asshole down.
Robby sighed, seeing that he had thrown her for a loop, and folded his arms across his chest. “Doctor Santos, one of the hardest parts about this job is learning how to separate the personal from the professional. It’s not always possible, we carry our experiences with us wherever we go. I know you've been considering double boarding with surgery but if you want to be an Emergency Medicine specialist you will see the worst that society has to offer. It’s a given.”
Trinity raised an eyebrow, curious in spite of herself, and Robby’s lips twisted wryly. “People don’t often think of this as a hard specialty. Residency only takes four years max, nothing like any of the specialized surgeries. It’s not glamorous. Jack of all trades, master of none. They call us cowboys down here sometimes, our job is to keep them from dying before we can pass them along to those who are actually there to fix them up. So we get overlooked a lot, for all this department can be the most important one in the hospital. We don’t bring in the money that cardiovascular or orthopedics does.”
Trinity frowned, wondering if this was supposed to be some sort of inspirational speech. If so, it really needed work. Robby shook his head slightly. “But Emergency Medicine is hard. Many of our patients are still awake when we treat them and we get thrown abuse both physical and verbal every day. Gloria is constantly on us about patient satisfaction when we’re dealing with a waiting room that never empties and people who are visiting us on one of the worst days of their lives. And those are the good ones. We can’t just pump them full of meds to knock them out, do our thing, and then let someone else come in and explain all the fun details of recovery. We’re not surgeons.”
Trinity couldn’t help the snort that came out. Robby worked pretty well with the surgeons that came down to the ED on those cases where they were required, but it was clear that he had some feelings about the specialty.
Robby grinned ruefully. “I thought about surgery for a hot minute when I was in school. Spent two months in that rotation and saw the way they walked around the hospital acting like they were on a level above everyone else. I decided I never wanted to stick my head that far up my own ass.” Trinity laughed, making a mental note to tell Yolanda knowing that she would be amused rather than offended.
Robby shrugged. “Point is, this is a specialty that will challenge you, make you want to quit, lose all your faith in humanity and then get it back. But you have to learn when to act, when to react, and how to do it productively.”
Trinity bit her lip and nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to start yelling like that. I just saw the kid, and the dad, and it was so obvious…”
Robby grimaced. “I know the Peds cases are tough, especially when you understand what they’re going through.”
Trinity looked up sharply. Robby was watching her with a knowing look, and she suddenly felt like he was looking right into her soul. “I don’t -” She cut herself off, seeing that he wouldn’t buy any excuse she tried to throw at him. Looking down, she curled in on herself slightly, like the way she used to fold herself into a corner to try and avoid any notice from her parents.
A moment later, she felt a warm presence settle at her side and glanced over. Robby was now leaning against the counter next to her, just the right distance so that he could provide comfort but wouldn't crowd. He stayed quiet for a minute, letting her focus on her breathing in an effort to calm down and try and figure out what she was supposed to say next.
Before she could, Robby spoke again. “It’s easier to just not talk.” His voice was quiet and he was looking at the bulletin board on the wall across from them rather than at Trinity herself. “If you don’t speak about it out loud, you can pretend it’s not real. The moment you give it shape, you can’t take it back.”
Trinity felt herself frowning again, drawn to the way Robby spoke with absolute certainty. He wasn’t just trying to relate, or make her feel better. He was speaking like he knew.
Robby let out a long breath and then, still without looking at her, slowly unzipped his hoodie and lifted up his scrub top.
Trinity almost thought about making some sort of joke that she didn’t swing that way, even if he had been in an acceptable age range for her, but then her eyes were drawn to his abdomen.
Sure, he’d been exposed in a way she never really wanted to think about again when he’d been brought in during the PittFest shooting six months ago, but it wasn’t like she had been working on him and even if she had been the blood and panic of keeping him alive would have distracted her from anything else.
He was remarkably fit for a guy old enough to be her parent. Not like in a way where he worked out regularly, but like he was generally active and kept himself in good shape by running around a busy ED for twelve or more hours every day.
And then there was the set of small round burns that ran from his lower ribcage down his side and seemed to disappear around his waistband. They drew her attention as soon as she started looking for a reason why he was choosing to expose himself in the break room. That sounded way dirtier than it was supposed to.
The burns were old, very old. But she knew immediately what they were, though her brain was having trouble connecting the dots. “This wasn’t actually what got me removed from the house,” Robby commented idly, dropping his scrub top and hiding the scars from view. Trinity was still trying to process. “First time it was a dislocated elbow, two days after it happened. Gym teacher got frustrated that I wasn’t participating the way I should have been. Hard to do when you can’t move one arm.” He shrugged. “Believe it or not, CPS was actually worse a few decades ago.”
He let out a small huff that was probably supposed to be a laugh, but Trinity didn’t find it funny. “What happened?” she asked quietly, hoping he would tell her but also afraid of what he would say and worried that she was asking too much of her boss.
But Robby seemed to be waiting for the question. “My grandmother took me in for a few weeks, and then I went back to my parents. Happened a couple more times, but I was always sent back.” He then paused and took a deep breath, as if to settle himself for the next part of the story. “I was eleven. My mom got too mouthy, my dad got too drunk…” he grimaced, his glare almost burning a hole in the floor. “He didn’t realize he had killed her until hours later after he had sobered up a little. I tried to pull him off her at first, but all I got for it was a black eye and a concussion. I remember my mom telling me to hide at one point, before she lost consciousness.”
Trinity’s eyes widened. “He was arrested, right?”
Robby swallowed tightly, still looking at the floor. “He killed himself,” he replied shortly, and Trinity couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped. “Neighbors called the cops when they heard the gunshot. Not when they heard a woman being beaten to death, but a gunshot got their attention. Cops found me hiding in a cupboard in the kitchen.”
Trinity had no idea what she was supposed to say. She wanted to say something.
Robby didn’t seem to expect her to though, and he just rubbed a hand over his beard tiredly. “My grandmother was great, raised me until I graduated high school and continued to do her best to make up for not getting me out permanently before it got to that point. She died in my third year of residency. But as amazing as she was, it didn’t change what happened. And I still have to live with those memories. It never goes away and it doesn’t really get any better. It just gets easier.”
“Easier to live with?” Trinity couldn’t help but ask timidly.
Robby sighed. “Easier to work around,” he admitted. “I can go four, sometimes even five days now without something reminding me of it.” Trinity had to smile a little at that, and Robby looked pleased that he had been able to lighten the mood slightly. “Truth is, I’ve got more memories to induce nightmares by this point, and my father doesn’t really rank on the list. Which is just a whole other level of sad, don’t you think?”
“Something to look forward to,” Trinity agreed sagely.
They lapsed into silence for another few minutes, Trinity working her way up to asking another question. Finally, she managed to get the words from her throat to her lips. “Did you ever tell anyone?”
Robby was quiet for another long moment, and Trinity wasn’t sure he would answer. Which might have been an answer in itself.
Bur finally, he grimaced and gave a slight shrug. “I told Jack once. We were both really drunk on cheap beer, crappy vodka, and questionable life choices. College, sophomore year. Hadn’t learned yet not to mix your alcohol. I’ve never been completely sure how much of that night he remembers, he never really brought it up after. But we’ve been friends for over thirty years now, we were roommates for our last two years of college and all through med school. He’s seen me in all states of undress.” Trinity raised an eyebrow, amused, and Robby huffed out a laugh. “Those aren’t my only scars,” he gestured in the direction of his side, the old cigarette burns hidden once more, “but they are the most obvious. You can explain away a lot, but those are kind of hard to come up with a reasonable explanation for. We don’t really talk about it, and if anyone ever asks and I need to give an answer I say my parents died when I was a kid and I was raised by my grandmother. I let them make their own conclusions. No one wants to be the asshole who asks someone how their parents died.”
Trinity pursed her lips, nodding slowly. Deflection. Truth but not the whole truth. She could respect that. “I ran away when I was seventeen,” she said abruptly, and Robby looked over, startled and somewhat surprised that she was actually sharing with him. Trinity looked down. “My dad’s an alcoholic, would crawl out of the bottle every so often just long enough to realize I existed, beat me up, and then went looking for his next drink.” She grimaced. “Mom’s more of a narcissist with asshole-ish tendencies. Things got worse after I quit gymnastics, fucked with her vision of the superstar daughter who would make her famous by association. But I got fed up with the coach with the wandering hands and private one on one sessions, and no one caring.”
She saw the way Robby stiffened at that, and hoped he wouldn’t ask for more.
When he did speak, it was a simple, “Fuck them,” but it startled a laugh out of Trinity that she really hoped didn’t sound as hysterical as she thought it did.
“Fuck them,” she agreed. She waited another beat, to see if he would say anything else, and when he remained quiet she hesitantly asked, “What’s going to happen with that kid?”
Robby sighed and glanced at the door to the ED. “I looped Kiara in and we’re making a report. CPS has gotten a lot better, but there are still a lot of cracks. I called in a favor with a friend in the police department, she’s going to come by and talk to the kid on her lunch break. They’ll take it seriously, and if we can get the kid to talk there’s a much better chance of the father getting arrested. Even if it doesn’t stick this time, he’ll have a file.”
Trinity knew how this worked, even if she hated it. Many times it took more than one incident for permanent removal. Robby’s own childhood was proof of that. But it still sucked.
Robby shifted slightly to face her, and she knew he was about to say something important or boss-like. “I’m not asking you to turn your emotions off, Trinity. Passion is the backbone of medicine. You can’t do this job well if you don’t care. But you need to learn how to channel it effectively. What could you have done differently?”
Trinity frowned. “Not yelled at him even if he was being an asshole?”
Robby snorted. “That would be a good first step.” He sighed lightly. “If you ever get a case you feel you can’t remain professional on, you can come find me. I’m your attending, it’s my job to help you in whatever way I can so that you can succeed.”
“But you can’t hold my hand forever,” Trinity pointed out.
“No, I can’t,” Robby agreed. “But everyone has cases that stick with them, that challenge them in more personal ways. We help each other out where needed, we lean on each other and respect each other’s boundaries. If you need someone to take over for you, all you have to do is ask.”
Trinity wasn’t sure if she believed it, but even she had to admit that his words rang true in the face of the six months she had been at PTMC. She had come to see how close the ED team was at this hospital. Night and day shift worked together as a seamless unit for all they liked to throw barbs back and forth and jokingly complain about the state of the board one shift would leave for the other. She’d spent her third and fourth year rotations in various hospitals around Atlanta where she’d gone to med school, and hadn’t felt half the sense of belonging she had in the six months she’d been here. That lack of connection was one of the reasons she had decided to take the risk of applying for residency outside of the hospitals where she had gotten her hands-on learning, when most people applied to the programs at hospitals they had rotated through for the highest chance of success at matching. That and she had been itching for a fresh start somewhere new and in a different state from her parents and all the memories that haunted her every day.
She wasn’t sure if it was Robby’s actions during PittFest that amped up the level of respect she saw come from every doctor who passed through on their way to consult on a patient, or if it had always been there, but it spoke volumes of the kind of leader he was. His actions talking to her today only amplified that. First day of insanity notwithstanding, she hadn't for one second regretted her decision to apply to PTMC.
“Am I in trouble? For what I said?” It took a lot of effort to ask, afraid of the answer.
Robby shook his head. “As long as it doesn’t become a pattern. You’re far from the first person who led with emotions.” He pushed himself off of the counter, and made his way to the door. Pausing before he opened it, he turned back around and gave her a caring look that made her throat close up slightly. She fought not to let any tears escape. “Take a couple minutes, and then get back to work. And if you ever want to talk about anything, no matter the topic, I’m here. Call me at any time. Text me, send me a smoke signal, I don’t care what it’s about or what I’m doing. I’ll always answer.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, and just disappeared back into the busy ED.
Trinity lost the battle and felt a tear slip out of one eye and roll down her cheek. Was this what having a dad was supposed to be like?
She huffed angrily and swiped at her wet cheek. Trinity Santos didn’t do soft. She was a badass doctor who could take care of herself.
Still though, she thought as she walked back into the ED and met Robby’s steady gaze across the hub, it might be kind of nice to be able to lean on someone else, sometimes.
It had taken a couple of decades, but maybe she had finally found that someone.
XXX
“It’s not true, you know.”
Robby looked down from where he had been contemplating the board, confused, and saw Santos standing next to him, also looking up at the mess they were about to leave for the night shift. Jack was going to be pissed. Robby raised an eyebrow. On the other side of the desk Dana twitched but didn’t look up, doing an admirable job of pretending she wasn’t listening in.
Santos kept her gaze focused on the board. “The whole jack of all trades thing. I really hate that saying, who came up with it?” She didn’t wait for a response. “The master of none part, it’s not true.”
Robby tilted his head in silent invitation, and Santos finally looked down – well, not that far down, he was still half a foot taller than her. “I cycled between three different hospitals in Atlanta doing my year three and four rotations, I’ve never seen anyone put in an airway as fast as you. Being here during PittFest was like watching a professional orchestra up close. Everyone knew exactly what to do, Doctor Abbot was totally in conductor mode.”
Robby couldn’t help but smile at that. Combat medicine was where Jack had cut his teeth. As shitty as it was in the moment, when mass casualty incidents happened Jack was in his element.
“And I heard some of the medics talking, after Walsh took you up to surgery,” Santos continued, expression earnest in a way she had never really let herself show. “You were out there with a med bag and nothing else, just going from patient to patient and doing whatever you could to give as many people as possible a chance to survive long enough to make it through those doors,” she jerked her head in the direction of the ambulance bay. “They said they wouldn’t have been able to help nearly as many people if you hadn’t been there.”
Robby flushed a little, the tips of his ears going red being the only real sign that he was embarrassed at the praise. Dana let out a small laugh but stayed focused on her tablet to give them the illusion of privacy.
“So fuck anyone who says Emergency Medicine isn’t flashy or cool or a real specialty,” Santos finished. “We have to be masters of everything, if you ask me. We don’t have the luxury of having a case presented to us with a clear answer. It’s all a puzzle and if we lose, someone dies.” Robby grimaced, and Santos amended, “Ok, not always, but you get what I’m trying to say. Right?”
Robby chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Maybe a little over the top but not entirely inaccurate.”
Santos shrugged. “Hey, if you hadn’t caught that pulmonary embolism last week that guy definitely would have died.”
“Don’t forget about that celiac disease catch a couple years ago that would have been labeled as a typical onset of schizophrenia if you hadn’t had that hunch.”
Robby glanced over and saw that Jack had joined them. Jack looked at Santos, who stared back, amused and very curious. He grinned. “Patient was brought in after a standard psychotic break, happened to be in the process of opening up a pizza shop with his brother. Would have been written off as a clear case for psych if this guy hadn’t remembered a case of celiac causing psychosis.” He raised an eyebrow at Robby's exasperated look.
“And that, kids, is a clear call to read your case studies,” Robby replied, deadpan. “People are weird. Nothing makes sense. The ED will fuck with you. In times like these we look to those who paved the way. Trust me, Santos, if you’re stumped there’s usually an obscure case that can help point you in the right direction. You just have to find it. Also, context matters.”
It was clearly meant to be a nugget of wisdom wrapped in a lighthearted quip, and Trinity took it at face value for the advice it was.
“So why are we pointing out the ways Robby is ED ninja?” Jack asked curiously.
Robby rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Can we handoff so my day shift can get out of here?”
Jack gave him a searching look, and then turned his attention back to Santos. But when she just stared back, he sighed and let it go. “What’s the rush? Got a hot date to get to while you leave me with this mess?”
Robby bumped his shoulder lightly as the duo headed down the hallway. “Me, my couch, and a leftover carton of Chinese takeout.”
Santos, still listening to them as she moved to finish up her charting, couldn’t help the snort even as Jack replied, “Dude, if it’s the leftovers from the takeout we had last week I am begging you, throw that carton out. I do not need to see you back here for food poisoning, it was questionable when we ordered it.”
She was still chuckling when Dana reached over to put a tablet back on its charger. “You good, kid?” she asked in her brusque voice that couldn’t quite mask the caring tone behind it.
Trinity looked up. “Yeah, all good.”
Dana gave her a searching look, and then nodded. “Good. You ever need anything, you know we’re all here for you.”
Trinity blinked, surprised, but Dana didn’t elaborate any more, and just moved away to finish her end of shift tasks before Lena arrived to take over for the night. She knew Dana cared, she’d seen it many times over the last six months, but the charge nurse tended to be much more ‘tough love’ with the residents and med students. She wasn’t much for hand holding.
But maybe it wasn’t really hand holding, Trinity thought as she turned her attention back to her charting. Maybe it was just being a family.