Rabbot ‘together since the start’ social media au:
Part 9/? + phone convo below!
Masterpost
——————
The first thing Robby hears when the line finally connects to Whitaker’s phone is overlapping voices and general chaos.
“Hi, Dr - stop trying to grab the phone - hi Dr. Robby,” Whitaker says, voice sounding slightly far away. “You’re on speaker -“
“Your man is a badass!” Santos whoops, drunkenly interrupting, the phone jostling in the hand of whoever is holding it. “He didn’even - he didn’hesitate -“
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Robby snaps, and that seems to sober some of the chatter. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on! Where is Jack?”
“He’s with the police,” comes Mel’s voice, a little less clear than it normally is but certainly more sober than Santos. “Talking! Not in trouble, he - he was the hero, not the bad guy!”
“He literally saved my life,” comes an inebriated but sincere sob from Javadi. It makes Robby soften just a little. She’s crying and obviously very shaken. “He didn’t care if he got hurt, he just saved me -“
Christ, he forgets they’re all just kids.
“Okay, but he’s conscious and upright, correct? And has Javadi been checked out? Is she okay?” Robby asks, scrubbing a hand down his face.
“Yes sir,” Whitaker says, and Robby can practically see him nodding. “Paramedics have checked her out, and checked him over too, but he declined care because he said the doctor at home is better looking.”
Robby can’t help but snort, shaking his head. Of course he fucking did.
“What happened?” He asks. When they all start talking at once, he clarifies. “One at a time, please.”
“We were leaving the pub to go dancing, and Dr. Abbot was going to walk us there and then go home,” Mel says, and truly thank god for her, Robby thinks. “Vic was at the back because she had a rock in her shoe. We walked by this alley and just as everyone passed, a guy grabbed Vic from behind and clamped his hand over her mouth, but Trinity saw -“
“You’re damn right I fucking did, piece of shit motherfuckers -“
Robby can’t help but smile fondly at Santos’ fiery interjection. She’s a protector, through and through.
“- and Dr. Abbot was just there before anyone could even react, told us to call the police and he just ripped Vic free and then the guys were on him but he just -“
“He kicked their asses!” Santos interjects again. “He didn’t even hesitate, he just - and then they fought back but he won! Knocked those fuckers out and now the - ouch, stop punching me - now the cops have ‘em!
Robby sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose even as he smiles a little.
That’s Jack - headfirst into the danger to help. No matter the cost.
“Can you put him on the phone please?” Robby asks.
“Yeah, yep, of course -“ it’s Whitaker again, the rustling of the phone loud as he extricates himself from the group. There’s more shuffling and the sound of a crowd and then -
“Hi baby,” comes Jack’s voice, a little sore sounding but clear.
“Jesus, Jack,” Robby breathes out, sheer relief finally flooding him. “Are you okay? Where are you, I’ll come get you.”
“I’m alright,” Jack reassures him, voice warm despite the slight nasal sound. Hit in the nose, definitely. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.”
“Looked like more than that,” Robby insists. “Santos posted a photo.”
Jack laughs, and Robby can practically see the wince that comes with it as he moves his face. “Course she did,” he says. “She said I looked really badass.”
“You look like you’re giving your husband more grey hair,” Robby groused.
“Good thing I like an older man,” Jack teases.
Robby rolls his eyes. “Tell me where you are, I’m coming to get you.”
“Nah, the boys in blue are gonna drive me home,” Jack says. “They’re going to drop off the kids, too, I want to make sure they get home safe.”
“You sure?”
“I’ll be home before you know it,” Jack murmurs, the warmth soothing some of the anxiety in Robby’s chest. “And then you can fuss over me all you want.”
“Alright,” Robby concedes with a sigh. “Fine. Text me when you’re on your way, okay?
“I will,” Jack says. “Love you.”
Robby sighs, smiling softly. “Love you too, you big fucking hero. Get here soon.”
Im having a lot of fun doing all of these and have more to come, don't worry! As well I'll see if I can print these and send them to production to be given to the cast.
Hope everyone is excited to see how the rest of the cards turn out and which characters are which.
smau / sfw. dennis whitaker, trinity santos, jack abbot, mel king, and samira mohan x fem, black, pitt princess!reader. reader is black but anyone can enjoy. you post something cheeky to your story and receive some fun replies! + masterlist.
✦ what you posted:
✦ and the replies:
if ur confused on lore just read the og pitt princess post (here). this was fun to make and i think turned out cute! maybe a little ooc but it's whatevs. i feel like i should make a formal reader intro post for pitt princess!reader buttt i'm kinda lazy atm and i think it wld be 99% rewriting what i wrote in her moodboard post.
I think one of the most relatable autistic traits of mel's (for me) is whenever she gets embarrassed she just has to do something with her body. hold herself, put pressure on something, grip something really hard... embarrassment is such a visceral and uncomfortable feeling physically and im not used to seeing characters actually act like it feels that way. it is also very cute
Three's Company (dennis whitaker and trinity santos - the pitt)
Summary: An unexpected twist in Trinity's personal life sets off a chain of events she never could have predicted back when she offered Huckleberry her spare room (platonic!santos and whitaker)
Warnings: minor language, heavy on a stressful medical scenario and jargon (as to be expected, this is The Pitt after all), minor mentions of illegal drugs
Requested: No
Word Count: 5,300
A/N: my first non-reader insert, hope you enjoy! As stated in summary, this is true to canon in that Santos & Whitaker are totally platonic :)
*gif is not mine*
It all started with a phone call.
“Trinity, baby?” Her mother’s voice quivered. “I need your help.”
She needed the money, she said. It wasn’t supposed to get like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
“At least I had the decency to call you before your sister went to foster care,” Tonya said, like that absolved her of the charges she was almost certainly facing now that one of her “clients” had been arrested. Loyalty is a fickle thing between dealer and buyer, after all.
The paperwork had been ready as soon as Trinity arrived at her childhood home. A Parental Power of Attorney, to keep Rorie safe from the system in the hours after their mother’s inevitable arrest, and Standby Guardianship papers, the path to full legal guardianship.
Of all the titles, credentials, and goals Trinity’d had for herself, legal guardian wasn’t one of them.
And yet, what choice did she have? She packed up Rorie’s things, buckled the little girl into the back of her car, and drove her to Pittsburgh, to the apartment where Huckleberry had spent the day rearranging her room for her to make space for the twin bed she’d bought yesterday when her mom called.
Trinity and Rorie had never really shared a house, much less a room. Half-sisters, Rorie had come along when Trinity was already in undergrad. The “father” section on Rorie’s birth certificate was mercifully blank, which made the paperwork simple. Tonya said she just didn’t know who Rorie’s father was. Trinity thought she had just learned her lesson after Trinity’s childhood.
--
Two days later, Trinity was back in the ED, more distracted now than ever before. Rorie was at school, having been dropped at her new school’s before-school program that morning. After school, she’d ride the school bus to the daycare near the hospital that stayed open late to accommodate healthcare workers.
Rorie meeting Whitaker went about as well as she’d expected, though it didn’t calm her nerves much. He’d bought her one of those weighted, scented stuffed animals from the hospital gift shop, which of course won the second grader over immediately. It was a pale pink bunny with long, floppy ears that smelled like lavender.
“Why don’t you go put your new friend in our room and change into some pajamas for me?” Trinity said, crouched down to Rorie’s level. Rorie nodded and walked away, the bunny held to her chest like a lifeline.
Trinity stood, sighing.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Dennis shrugged.
“She’s going through something hard.”
Trinity nodded solemnly.
“You okay?” Dennis asked. Trinity sighed again.
“Well, my mom’s about to be arrested for a crap ton of drug-related charges, I just took legal guardianship of my baby sister for the foreseeable future, and I am teetering dangerously on the edge of having to repeat my R2 year from all the days off I’ve had to take, and that’s before we hit the worst of cold and flu season. So…life’s a dream, I guess,” Trinity shrugged, shooting Whitaker her signature wry, humorless smile.
Whitaker stares for a moment. “Uh huh,” he says, reaching into the fridge to hand her a beer.
Now, three days since the phone call and two days since arriving back in the city, Trinity tried to focus on patients and charting and learning, all while worrying about Rorie. Was she having a good first day of school? Had she packed her a good enough lunch? Was she missing mom?
“She’s fine,” Whitaker said from the computer across from hers without prompting.
“What?”
“Your sister,” Whitaker replied, lowering his voice. “She’s gonna be fine. Kids are super resilient.”
Trinity is quiet for a moment.
“Yeah, but they shouldn’t have to be.”
---
It was only a week before shit hit the fan. Daycare called right after Rorie would have gotten off the bus. Closing early due to a water main break. Someone has to come get her, as soon as possible.
After returning from her unannounced slip down the street to pick Rorie up, Trinity snuck the little girl past the admissions desk with only a raised eyebrow from Lupe. The pair ducked into the break room, where Trinity set her up with snacks from the vending machine and a movie on her laptop. Hopefully this gets her through to the end of my shift, Trinity thought.
“Hey, look at me,” Trinity said, aiming to be firm but not mean. “Do not leave this room. I’ll check in as soon as I can and take you to the bathroom if I need to but do. not. leave. If anyone comes in, just keep watching your movie, don’t bug anyone, okay?”
Rorie nods. “Okay,” her innocent voice chirps. With a shaky breath, Trinity returns to the bustling ED floor.
“Everything okay?” Robby asked as she approached the main hub. She looked disheveled, more so than a typical ER resident ten hours into her shift.
Trinity’s eyes widen before she smoothes her features and nods. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s good,” Trinity says before skirting past him to check on her head lac in central twelve. Robby’s gaze follows her, entirely unconvinced, but far too busy to look further into it. Yet.
---
Dr. King is the first person to discover Rorie.
“Oh, hi, um…” she says after pushing open the door to the breakroom, giving the small child a little wave. “Who are you?” Mel asks kindly.
“Rorie,” the little girl answers.
“Hi, Rorie. What…how did you get in here?”
“My sister. She works here.” Mel nods, noting the med school sticker on the laptop and the variety of snacks in front of the child.
“Okay. Well…” Mel looked around, having almost forgotten what she came in here for. She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge before turning to face the girl again. “Bye,” she waves before departing.
An hour later, Dana has finally gotten a free moment to just breathe. She remembers the chocolate squares she tucked in the side pocket of her lunchbox in the breakroom fridge. Not that she had time to eat the lunch at any point today, but she could hopefully retrieve and enjoy her chocolate before another crisis demanded her attention.
She had no idea the surprise that was awaiting her in the break room.
It wasn’t the first kid who’d been sequestered to the small room while a parent finished a shift. But Dana had never seen this particular kid before.
“Well, hello,” Dana smiled.
“Hi,” she said, looking up from the movie playing on the laptop.
“Who are you?”
“Rorie.”
“Rorie. That’s cute,” Dana said, pulling out a chair to sit next to her. Close, but enough space to not intimidate the child. “Is that short for something?”
“Aurora.”
“Like the princess?” The girl nodded, a small smile on her lips.
“Who brought you in here, sweetheart?” Dana asked softly.
“My sister.” Dana nodded, pulling gently on her nametag.
“Does your sister have one of these?” When the little girl nodded, Dana asked what color the bottom of her sister’s tag was.
“Green,” she responded. A doctor, Dana thought. Who was on shift today? Had any new students started today? Was anyone out and being covered by someone she wasn’t familiar with?
“What’s her name, honey?” The girl shifted, uncertain if she should answer or not.
“Trinity.”
Dana’s eyebrows shot up, though she covered it up with a poker face as quickly as possible.
“Really? You visiting her?” Dana asked, her eyes skirting to the backpack beside the girl’s chair. It was an odd time of year for a visit on a school day.
Just then, Princess interrupted, needing Dana. Dana playfully told Rorie not to have too much fun and went back to the hub.
---
Thirty more minutes pass. Unbeknownst to Rorie, Trinity was deep into caring for a drowning victim in trauma one, preventing her from checking in on her sister.
But Rorie really, really, had to go to the bathroom.
A soft, nice looking doctor finally came through. She had bangs and the sharp eye of a mother who can spot a fidgety kid from a mile away.
“Do you need to go to the bathroom, sweetie? I can show you where it is,” Dr. McKay said, knowing better than to question the child’s presence. She’d tucked her own kid in here a time or two. Whatever the circumstances were, it had to be stressful enough.
Rorie nodded and McKay took her to the restroom right next door, knocking and opening it for her before being dragged away to address a patient demanding her attention.
When Rorie emerged, however, the several seconds it took to get her bearings and figure out the way back to the breakroom was plenty long enough for a certain attending to notice the lost-looking child as he rounded the north nurse’s station. He approached cautiously.
“Hey, kiddo. Are you lost?”
Before Rorie could answer, Trinity spotted Dr. Robby talking to Rorie. Trinity’s heart pounded as she approached quickly, her hand coming up to loosely grip Rorie’s upper arm.
“I told you to stay there--” she murmured urgently.
“Dr. Santos, care to explain?” Robby said, straightening up.
Trinity took a deep breath before speaking carefully, in measured sentences. “This is my sister Rorie. She’s living with me for…a while, and I’ve had her in daycare, but they closed early today and I’ve had her in the breakroom waiting for my shift to end.” When she’s done speaking, Trinity’s eyes dart to Robby’s, unsure and apprehensive about his potential reaction.
After a beat, Robby leaned forward, arms crossed in a friendly stance.
“You doing okay, Rorie?” The little girl nodded. Robby straightened before looking to Santos.
“Get her settled again and come find me.”
---
Robby was standing at a computer, glasses on, typing, when Santos approached, her hands clasped behind her back to hide how she was wringing them.
Robby glanced over his shoulder to verify her presence before turning back to the screen.
“Everything okay at home?”
Trinity hesitates. “Not really, no. Um. Long story short, our mom is facing some…legal trouble. I’m just doing what I can to keep Rorie out of the system.”
“She’s living with you?” Robby asked, confirmed by a nod from Santos. He takes his reading glasses off and turns to face her, arms crossing again.
“How’s it going so far? How is she taking it? What about Whitaker?”
Trinity nods slowly, thinking, hands in her back pockets. “She’s doing okay. She says she likes her new school. We’re sharing a room, so it’s like…the slumber parties we never really had. Whitaker’s…annoyingly helpful. He packed her lunch this morning.”
“Annoyingly helpful?” Robby repeats, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. A huff escapes her nose, the ghost of the laugh she might’ve given under different circumstances. Before she can think of how to explain it, Robby gives it a guess.
“You don’t like feeling like you’ve dragged him into this.”
Trinity pursed her lips and nodded her head. Robby shrugged.
“He’s a helper. It’s in his blood. Have you ever heard the phrase ‘it takes a village’?” Santos has to resist the urge to roll her eyes in front of her superior, but a smile teases on her face at his rhetorical question.
“Don’t burn the village down, Santos. Accept the help. If not for you, for her,” Robby adds before tapping his badge to log out and walking away.
Trinity breathes out, relieved, tapping her own badge to the reader.
---
Late that night (or maybe early the next morning), Trinity’s sleep is interrupted by the invasion of a small, warm body.
“Rorie? You okay?” Trinity mumbles sleepily, reflexively scooting over to make room. She can’t see in the dark, but she feels Rorie’s small head nuzzle into her shoulder. When it finally stills, a tiny whisper reaches Trinity’s ears.
“Did you get in trouble today?”
Trinity wraps her arms securely around her sister’s body.
“No, bug. I didn’t get in any trouble. You’re just such a cool kid, everyone wanted to meet you.”
The room is silent for a moment, save for the sound of the fan and the city outside the window.
“Is mommy ever coming back?”
For the first time since that phone call, Trinity’s eyes sting.
There were times, early on in Rorie’s life, where she felt jealous of the life Rorie was leading compared to her own childhood. Now she wishes she could take every ounce of it back.
Rorie didn’t deserve this. She was too innocent, too precious to have learned at the age of eight that the world can turn on you in an instant.
“I don’t know, bug,” Trinity rasped. “But I do know that you and I are a great team, and we’re gonna live the best life we can while mom is busy. I’ve got you, always.”
“Okay,” the little girl accepted, relaxing into her sister's hold before allowing sleep to drag her under once more.
---
A month into their new life, the dark circles under Trinity’s eyes had grown more pronounced, but her smile appears much more often than it used to. The air outside has grown bitter cold.
“I just feel so bad,” Trinity said to Whitaker one morning as she prepared her coffee cup. Whitaker, whose circadian rhythm was still designed for a farmer, was at the table in his pajamas with his own mug, a day off ahead of him.
“You can’t do anything about it,” he assured her.
“Yeah, well, when your first ever parent-teacher conference results in the teacher telling you how your sister wrote in her journal about how she would make it a law that doctors only work six hours a day instead of twelve, it doesn’t exactly leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.”
Dennis shot her a look of sympathy. He knew the late nights were taking a toll on both Trinity and Rorie. He found Rorie asleep in the breakroom last week after she’d been sent home from school with a fever, something he did not tell Trinity about, because he knew she’d feel awful for dragging a sick kid to work with her.
“I could stay with her today,” Whitaker offered. It was a Saturday. The daycare was open, but it was the first Saturday that Dennis had off that Trinity didn’t. Trinity had finagled her work schedule so she would always be off on Sundays when the daycare was closed, but it had meant taking on more back-to-back shifts during the week than was probably healthy.
“Huckleberry, you don’t have--”
“I know I don’t. I want to. She’s a fun kid, Santos. She deserves it.” Trinity sighed, remembering what Robby said about not burning the village down. Her village was small enough as it was.
“Fine. But don’t let her walk all over you.”
---
Dennis and Rorie spent the day inside, the walls keeping the chill of winter out of the apartment and Dennis’s undivided attention keeping the chill of worry out of Rorie’s heart.
At 6:47 PM, Dennis’s phone lights up with a text from Trinity: 10 car pileup coming in. Gonna be late. Don’t let her wait up.
The apartment smells faintly of the pizza Dennis ordered for dinner as Rorie brushes her teeth and changes into pajamas. He uses a hand towel to erase the traces of bubblegum toothpaste from the corners of her mouth.
“Alright, Princess Aurora, time for bed. Your sister was clear, no waiting up.”
She skitters to the “girl’s room” in her nightgown, climbing onto the twin pushed against the wall.
“Night, Rorie,” Whitaker says, reaching for the lamp.
“Will you read to me?”
Dennis’s hand stills before it can click the light off. In the warm glow of the bulb, he can see the hope in her eyes, not that he would ever dream of saying no.
“Of course,” he says, reaching for the battered paperback on the nightstand, the chapter book Trinity’s been reading to her every night. Dennis settled himself on the edge of the mattress, opened the book to its bookmark, something Rorie made at school, and began reading. Every few paragraphs, he’d glance at her to see if her eyelids were getting heavy, but she was rapt. Finally, the chapter ended, thankfully not on a cliffhanger. He tucked the tape-laminated paper inside the yellowed pages and returned it to the nightstand.
“Alright. Now it’s time for you to sleep or I’m gonna be in huge trouble with your sister.”
Dennis clicks the light off, his eyes adjusting to the sudden darkness as the moonlight bled through the blinds.
“Dennis?”
“Yeah, princess?”
“You forgot a hug and a kiss.”
Dennis’ breath caught a little.
He’d been mindful, ever since Rorie moved in, to be careful about boundaries. She reminded him of his nephews, the ones who broke his heart every time a visit ended and he had to leave. Whether he was trying to protect his own heart or hers, he wasn’t sure.
He returned, slowly, to the bedside before giving her a hug and briefly pressing his lips to her temple.
“Sleep tight. Come find me if you need me.”
---
As another week in their exhausting yet monotonous life passed, Trinity was careful not to let her guard down, though it only exacerbated her exhaustion. She knew that Rorie’s easy compliance and controlled emotions could only last so long, and she was right.
The honeymoon period had been blissfully long, but it was finally over.
“Rorie! I said put your shoes by the door before someone trips!” Trinity yelled from the kitchen.
“I did!”
“No, you didn’t! They’re still in the middle of the living room.” When Trinity didn’t hear her sister move to retrieve the sneakers, she switched tactics.
“Aurora, if you don’t get in here and fix these shoes right now, I’m grounding you or putting you in time out, or doing…something else you’re gonna hate!” Trinity sputtered, not quite sure what the appropriate consequence would be for a kid whose whole life revolved around one tiny apartment, hospital break rooms, daycare, and the occasional Sunday outing.
“No! You’re not my mom!” Rorie’s voice shouted from the bedroom. Trinity tried to take a breath as she made her way to the doorframe, though it didn’t do much good.
“Yeah, well I don’t wanna be your mom anyway! But guess what, you’re stuck with me! So get the hell in here and fix these shoes now, I’m not gonna say it again!” Trinity shuddered, realizing how she sounded a moment too late. Teary eyed and red-faced with anger, Rorie stomped loudly into the living room, picked up the sneakers, and tossed them onto the boot tray by the front door where they belonged, albeit haphazardly.
Dennis’s bedroom door opened as Rorie stomped past Trinity and slammed the door in her face. Before Trinity could respond, Dennis was across the hall, placing a grounding hand on Trinity’s shoulder.
“Hey, you need a break,” he said firmly. Trinity turned to face him, shrugging off his hand.
“Oh yeah? And where exactly am I supposed to get one of those?”
“Listen. You’re exhausted, you’re stressed, and it’s only gonna get worse the longer you go.”
Trinity sighed and rubbed her face, as if that could wash away the shame she felt for how she’d spoken to her sister. Of course, it’s not like she’d ever had great role models for this parenting shit. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.
“Okay, fine,” Trinity concedes, letting her arms drop to her sides in defeat. “What do I do about it?”
Dennis looks at her sympathetically but firmly.
“Text one of her friends’ parents, like the ones whose numbers you have from those birthdays she got invited to. Ask if she can spend the night with them after school tomorrow, so you can have one evening where you don’t have to worry about taking care of anyone but yourself and you can sleep in on Saturday morning without feeling guilty. Just try it.”
“I can’t just ask someone to--”
“You can try, or you can let her wonder what could have been different if you had tried when you run yourself into the ground and end up resenting her. It’s your choice.”
Trinity was getting a little tired of choices that weren’t really choices at all.
---
Fucking Huckleberry, Trinity thought. She couldn’t - and wouldn’t - admit to him the weight that was no longer on her chest the next day as she worked her shift, knowing Rorie was being picked up from school by her friend Aubri’s mom and spending the night with them. She was going to have a blast. Trinity didn’t know whether to go home and sleep as soon as her shift ended or go out for the first time in almost two months. Only the trajectory of this Friday shift would tell, really.
It was going well. She was caught up on charting, nothing absolutely wild had come through the doors yet.
At the central hub, Dana hung up the red phone and started gathering residents and students to gown up and be ready in the trauma bays for an incoming MVA. Trinity tied the white gown over her scrubs and waited, heart pounding in anticipation. She darted forward eagerly, immediately moving to take the driver, a 34 year old male they wheeled into trauma one.
Trinity was blissfully unaware as she grabbed the ultrasound probe that Rorie was the third victim wheeled in, her hairline sticky with blood, white gauze wrapped around her head.
It was Dr. Mohan who took her in the handoff, ignorant to the connection.
“8-year-old female, backseat passenger side-impact. GCS is 15. Airway intact, breath sounds clear. Single 4cm linear laceration to the hairline, bleeding controlled by pressure dressing. Vitals have been stable, no IV,” the EMT rattled off.
“Hi, sweetie, can you tell me your name?” Mohan asked, keeping pace with the gurney as it wheels into south 20, one of the bays nearest the trauma rooms.
“Rorie,” the girl says, voice thick with unshed tears and the pure fear of the sudden anxiety at being a patient, not a visitor.
“Hey, Rorie, you’re safe, I’m Dr. Mohan and I’m gonna take good care of you, alright?” Samira says, using her penlight to assess her pupils.
“I want my sister.”
“We’re gonna call your family as soon as we make sure you’re okay,” Samira responds, distracted as she inspects the wound under the gauze. Superficial, but head wounds are bleeders.
“No, my sister is here,” Rorie clarified sternly, which got Samira’s attention.
“Was your sister in the car with you?”
“No, she works here!” Rorie insists.
“Okay, okay,” Samira soothes. “What’s her name?”
“Trinity,” Rorie squeaks.
Samira’s face flushes. Shit. She can’t interrupt a trauma to drag Santos in here, not to mention the fact that Santos would surely try and treat her own sister, which would mean Dr. Robby chewing them both out. She tries to look to the nurse for backup, but one has yet to materialize, most of them probably held up in the trauma bays. Mohan grabs for the trauma shears herself, needing to inspect her skin and assess the possibility of internal injuries.
“Your sister is busy helping people right now, sweetie, but I’ll get her as soon as I can.”
Finally, a nurse does appear, helping remove Rorie’s clothing, performing the log roll to examine her back, and slip on a gown. Mohan has just moved to the computer to put in orders for a CT when she hears a shriek from the bed.
Within seconds, she takes in the flash of the needle from the nurse’s IV start kit, the terrified look on Rorie’s face, and the way her hands are clamped to the crooks of her arms. Perlah is speaking to her softly, trying to calm her, but Rorie’s panic doesn’t budge.
“I want my sister!” she cries.
Perlah looks to Mohan, who shakes her head as discreetly as she can.
“Sweetie, your sister is saving someone’s life right now. We will get her as soon as we can, I promise, but she needs you to be brave and let us help give you some medicine. I know it’s scary, just take a deep breath--”
“No!” Rorie cries louder. “I want my sister!”
Whitaker, who had been in the middle of a lumbar puncture when the ambulance arrived, was on his way to assist in the trauma bays when his heart dropped at the sound of what could only be Rorie’s yell, followed by the sound of her sobs. The curtain creaked and scraped as he ripped it open, taking in the scene.
“Dennis!” she sobbed.
“Wait, you know her?” Samira asked as Dennis darted forward.
“She’s Santos’ sister! She lives with us,” Dennis explained, pulling Rorie into a gentle hug, careful of any unseen injuries, murmuring comforting words in her ear. “Where’s Santos?” he asks Mohan.
“In trauma 1 with the driver,” Mohan says, the frustration and overwhelm in her voice thinly veiled by her professionalism.
Whitaker seems to weigh the same conundrum Mohan had, that pulling Trinity out now would only take care away from her patient and risk all of their asses if she couldn’t put being a doctor aside and just be a sister.
He turns to face Rorie again as Perlah calls in a tech for backup. He grips both sides of her face, trying to block out everything but his voice.
“Hey, listen, you’re gonna be okay. I’m here and I’m not leaving you until your sister gets here. But we have to use the needle, we need to run tests and get you some medicine to help you feel better.” Dennis considers offering to do it himself, but he can’t remember the last time he started an IV, and he can’t risk causing her unnecessary pain.
Rorie’s hands only clamp tighter, hot tears streaming down her face.
“Should I grab midazolam?” Perlah asks cautiously, looking between Dennis and Samira, unsure who to deflect to in this situation.
“Yes,” Mohan says at the same time that Dennis says “Not yet.”
Mohan scoffs but Dennis shoots her a warning look.
“Do you want to be the one to explain to Santos why you unnecessarily drugged her sister?” Mohan bites back a response. Meanwhile, Rorie is still crying, albeit quieter now.
“If she has a head injury, this panic is only going to increase her intracranial pressure--” Mohan starts.
“Just give me a sec, okay!?” Dennis snaps.
Dennis tries to talk to her, offering cold spray, a video on his phone, or to use her hand instead, but her panic only increases as Mohan’s patience, or rather, her worry about the consequences of delaying labs and care, thins. Perlah tries to discreetly assess the viability of the saphenous vein, but Rorie pulls her legs up, protecting them from a potential intrusion as well.
Dennis is ultimately grateful that she’s alive and alert to be able to put up this fight, but the blooming of fresh blood on the gauze from the effects of her panic forces his hand. He has two choices: sedate her using the intranasal Versed, or hold her still himself. In a split second decision, he decides being able to talk to her, and her being able to talk to Trinity as soon as she finishes up in the trauma bay outweighs the betrayal they would both feel if he sedated her.
It’s not a textbook hold but Dennis doesn’t care. He holds the good side of her head and her shoulders tightly to his chest, speaking in a calm, low voice right by her ear. He nods for Mohan to help ensure her body doesn’t flail in a way he can’t control while Perlah and the tech pull one arm out of Dennis’s hold, stabilizing it long enough to apply the tourniquet, swab, insert the 22-gauge, and draw enough blood for labs before flushing and securing the line.
As the needle slides in, Dennis feels Rorie’s body shudder and her cries escalate, though she seems to be trying to pull herself against him, not away from him. Once everyone’s moved away, he lays her back gently as she continues to sob. To everyone’s relief, she doesn’t pull or tug at the IV line now secured to her arm as Perlah hangs the bag of saline and Dr. Mohan orders the pain meds.
The others have barely left the bay when a breathless Trinity appears at the curtain, having been alerted by Dana.
“Trinity!” Rorie cries, her arms outstretched. Trinity hurries forward, pulling her sister’s body into the safety of her arms.
“They hurt me!” Rorie sobs into Trinity’s black scrub top. Trinity uses her thumbs to swipe at the tears on Rorie’s face.
“I know, I know, they didn’t mean to, they were just trying to keep you safe, bug,” Trinity says, forcing herself to be as calm as humanly possible.
Trinity looks to Dennis, who gives her the same rundown Mohan gave him before she left the bay, that they’re waiting on CT to rule out internal bleeding before they suture the head lac, which has stopped bleeding again.
Trinity is still holding her sister, whose body seems so much smaller and more fragile than it had this morning, when Perlah re-enters with a syringe, which she deftly inserts in Rorie’s IV, pushing the medication in.
“Dr. Mohan is presenting to Robby now, she wants to know if he recommends a low dose of Ketamine for her agitation. She should be back any minute,” Perlah reports before leaving.
Within minutes, Rorie’s body relaxes, the sharp edges of the pain fading as the heart monitor’s beeps slow. Trinity lays her back on the pillows and pulls the blanket up to cover her.
“What does she mean, agitation?” Trinity asks Dennis. With a sheepish look, Dennis recounts the last thirty minutes, suddenly a little worried he may have made the wrong decision. When he finishes, Trinity’s face isn’t angry. It’s clear she’s fighting back tears of regret that she wasn’t there, but also tears of gratitude that Dennis had endured that for her. It’s yet another debt she may never be able to repay, but she knows he won’t ever call her out on it.
Trinity passes her cases off to the other residents and clocks out. Dennis gets back out into the ED to finish his shift, but he checks in frequently.
Hours later, clean CT scans are filed away in Rorie’s digital chart, a fresh bandage covers the sutures that Dr. Robby did himself, and Rorie is moved into the ER’s pedes room.
At shift change, Dr. Abbott volunteers to take Rorie’s case personally, especially since she only has a couple more hours of observation before she can be discharged.
Around 9:00, Dr. Abbott rubs hand sanitizer in as he enters the dimmed light of the pedes room. Rorie is asleep in the middle of the bed, with Trinity snoozing on one side and Whitaker snoring lightly on the other, a setup Rorie had insisted upon in one of her short-lived moments of lucidity between pain med doses.
Dr. Abbott just smiles as he gazes upon their sleeping forms. He backs up, deciding to hold off on her last neuro check for now.
He steps back into the bright light of the ED, pulling out his phone to order them a gift card so they can have a late-night dinner delivered, correctly assuming that none of them have eaten in several hours.
After all, isn’t that what you're supposed to do for a new family?
