Shared Darkness
Tags: FTM! Reader, R is a fully transitioned, passing male. Work mom! Baran, Diabetic! Reader, you both need a break, Gender affirmation, Found Family.
Warnings: Mentions of body dysphoria, suicidal ideation, and assault, ANGST.
A/N: Barantos, if you stick around long enough. Thank you to my bf as my beta reader. Please bear with me, it's my first time here.
“I’m not sorry; this is not up for discussion. I don’t want your energy around me right now.” Santos sighed, hands up, as she refused to hand over the patient from the ambulance bay. She was cherry-picking cases again.
You knew Santos was not a fan of you. She had made it clear since her first day, especially with Langdon, but he had always been an asshole.
“Dr. Santos, please,” you grumbled. “Baran is having us senior residents take over a few cases to help with the workload. I’m trying to help you out here,” you said, glancing at Dana, hoping she could help.
“Dana, please, help me out here; I’m just trying to go by what Baran said.” You leaned over the desk and pointed at Santos.
But she just looks up at both of you as if saying, “Really?”
Dr. Santos just scoffed and sat down to chart, clearly ignoring you.
Honestly, this conversation was childish. Everything between you and Santos had been mostly petty, so to avoid another headache during this shift, you walked away to check on your other patients.
Thankfully, Dana already knew you were having a bad day. As you turned away, you heard her warn Santos to lighten up.
“Really, Santos? He is being nice to you. God forbid any of us get a break around here, and he’s had one hell of a day. I would tread lightly, Missy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The day got worse. It’s barely 3 pm.
Your glucose monitor kept beeping every 30 minutes, warning that your blood sugar was low. You told Baran and Dana what was going on in case things got worse, but you were still able to keep up with the two extra patients you picked up.
Dana calls you over with the charts for one of your patients, and you head over.
*Beeeeeeeeeep* *Beeeeeeeeep*
“Can you please just eat something so I can chart in peace?” Santos begged from the computer next to you, her head in her hands like she was going to lose her shit.
“You don't think I already know that?” you snapped at her. “You really aren’t making today any easier, Dr. Santos.”
“As if you are,” she muttered, still covering her face, and you turned back to the charts, immediately feeling guilty.
You sighed and closed your eyes for a few seconds. Hearing the buzz of the pit, you took a minute to think about what you needed to do next.
Orders for a head CT and blood work. Discharge one patient with a broken leg and refer them to ortho. Another patient is waiting for the OR, and another for the ICU. The stillness makes you realize you need to piss, and you remember to apologize to Santos, but that can wait.
“Hey, stud.” You heard something from behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts. It was Baran, holding a granola bar.
You chuckled at the nickname she’d given you. “Thank you.” You smiled, grabbing the snack and taking a bite, your headache slightly clearing up.
“You know there are dextrose tablets in the staff lounge now, courtesy of HR; they’re right above the sink. Please take care of yourself, Pesaram. I need you here today; we can’t spare any more staff.” She gave you a small smile, rubbed your back, and left the nurses' station.
You took a moment to realize what she said. Pesaram. Son. She called you her son.
You smiled, looking around to see if anyone saw the moment. Locking eyes with Dr. Santos, who glared at you, you noticed her gaze go glassy. Your smile faltered.
Oh shit. She likes Baran. It makes sense now—the glares and scoffs when you talk about her or when she talks to you.
As you opened your mouth to explain, she stood up and walked to a patient's room.
Fuck
Before you can follow her, Dennis calls you about a patient. This whole situation will have to wait.
“What do we have coming in?” you asked, trying to pull yourself together from the past few moments.
“Dr. Al-Hashimi told me it was an aggressive patient. All hands on deck kind of situation. EMS was barely able to administer a full dose of Versed.”
Running with Dennis to the ambulance bay, you see an aggressive man screaming, cursing, and thrashing.
Even with what EMS gave him, he’s still thrashing. Despite being cuffed to the gurney, it’s hard to poke him without the needle snapping. As if things weren’t already out of hand, he slips one cuff and throws a punch square into your nose.
You stumble back in pain, your face stabbing and throbbing. You take a moment before lunging forward and finally giving him the drug. Once the adrenaline wears off, blood drips down your nose and the pain pounds through your skull.
“Fuck,” Baran reacts, then hurriedly gives orders for the patient before walking toward you with a wheelchair and pushing you to sit.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” Whitaker looked at you, shocked and slightly amazed that you were still able to pull off giving the medication.
“Whitaker.” You deadpan
“Sorry, no shit. Um. I'll go get an ice pack.” He replied, taking off out of the room.
With the pounding in your head, it becomes hard to think. Al-Hashimi hands you a small towel for your bloody face.
“Am I still a stud, Dr. Al-Hashimi?” You ask quietly.
She laughs at the sudden question, then pushes you into the nursing station. Everyone comes up to you, asking what happened, and Perlah and Princess check on you.
“Hey Perlah, let’s get this stud a head CT, please, and I will be taking most of his patients now that he is one,” she ordered. “And Dana, can you please update the board now that we are unfortunately down a senior resident?”
Whitaker came back with an ice pack, patted your shoulder before wishing you luck, and ran back to work.
Perlah places you into triage while you wait for a CT. As much of a break as you needed, it still sucked not being able to do your job. Waiting behind the curtain, you found it quiet enough to nap, so you took off your bloodied scrub top, set it aside, and stayed in a muscle shirt, hoping to get comfortable enough for a quick nap.
~~~~~~~~~
4 pm
After what felt like five seconds, you woke up to the curtain drawn and a gasp. Squinting, you make out that it’s Dr. Santos.
You felt awkward as Santos examined your face and body. Your clothes started to feel too tight in the wrong places, even though they were the same size scrubs you always wear.
You weren’t as muscular as Abbot. But in the pit, you had the strength you needed to move patients and handle the more aggressive ones without much struggle, so you thought. Tugging at your muscle shirt and pants, you ask, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“What happened to your face…” she asked bluntly, staring at you.
“Uh yeah… great question, so there was a group of gang members, and I went 1v-”
“Can you be serious for once?” she asked, cutting you off.
You gulped, not really knowing what to say other than what actually happened.
“Ended up being Cocoethylene toxicity. The big guy slipped his hand out of his restraint and landed a clean one on my face before I could administer Versed,” you say, not making eye contact.
“That’s gotta hurt. I thought EMS would have taken care of that already? What are the odds of that happening?” She chuckled, giving you an awkward smile.
“Today was just not great…Trinity, do you ever feel like this job isn’t worth it anymore?” you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Your chest feels heavy.
You don't really know why you are being so open right now, especially with her.
“Yeah. I do. Every day it gets a little harder to breathe. The few days we get off don’t even begin to catch up with what we deal with,” she sighs, looking down before sitting on the edge of the gurney.
You couldn’t help but sniffle. The day was finally catching up with you: the pain in your head, your body feeling like it wasn’t yours, the tiredness of being happy, the thought that life is better without you. You didn’t mean to go there, but the thought flashed through your head for a second before you shook it away.
Before you could respond, one of the nurses came in to take you to get a CT scan. You mumbled a small thanks before leaving Santos in the small room.
Everything can feel so lonely when you keep things inside for too long. You knew that. A psychiatry rotation in med school taught you a lot about your own mental health, but it’s easier said than done.
Asking for help is hard. Admitting what you see in the ER messes with your brain, especially the loss of each patient. It drove Dr. Robby to go on a three-month sabbatical, and no one really knows if he’s alive right now. But having Baran as a mother figure, Dennis as a best friend, and everyone else being kind enough brings you comfort at the end of the day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
5 pm
Labs came back better than you expected: no concussion, a hairline fracture, and a lot of Tylenol. Luckily, Baran was able to get your patients discharged or admitted, along with charting, so you were free to head home.
That feeling was still stuck with you. You just needed some fresh air.
What if
What if things weren’t going to get better?
You love the family you’ve gained while working at the Pitt. Nothing was necessarily wrong. But that feeling lingers after every shift. Death.
Once you snap out of your thoughts, you realize you were on the roof. Walking toward the edge, you see Santos leaning over the railing. You join her there, saying nothing until she glances at you.
“I didn't know I was going to have company during my daily 5 pm ideation session,” she muttered.
“Why were you planning on trying out some partcore?” you giggled.
But she just went quiet and looked down.
“I'm sorry that was a bad joke.” You immediately apologized.”
As soon as you spoke, she started to giggle too. The tension was truly coming to an end. As the laughter died down, she spoke.
“Some days I really do think about jumping,” she admits, looking out at the skyline, eyes slightly tearing up.
“And this,” she pulls out a scalpel, only for you to snatch it out of her hands.
“Trinity, please,” you whisper, looking around as if anyone is on the roof with you two.
“I-,” you sighed, not even knowing what to say.
She’s clearly asking for help and just needs someone to listen. In response, you nod, understanding the weight this conversation has on her. Standing up, put the scalpel in your pocket, and note to return it to the suture cart.
“I understand. I really don't like the way we started off, Trinity,” you said softly.
“And if I'm being honest, I always wanted to be your friend. I've tried many times. I know you're the type to clash with others. But I also know you’re kind; I see the way you advocate for patients who aren't seen or taken seriously,” you tell her.
“Whitaker also tells me you're a good friend”
She gives a small smile, sighs, and lets her shoulders fall. For a moment, she let the wall crumble.
“I’m sorry for this,” She spoke, as she traced her tattoos, looking you in the eyes.
You shrug
“We’re all carrying something heavy,” you said honestly, giving her a warm smile.
There are no easy answers. You know the heaviness will return; it always does. But tonight you two admitted the hardest part.
The air falls into a comfortable silence as you both watch the sunset. The neon-like pink and orange put a nice note to the end of the day.
“So you and Dr. Al-Hashimi?” she blurts out. And you can't help but laugh.
“Lord no,” you turn to walk back into the ER. “Baran is like a mother to me. The other day, she came over to my apartment and scolded me for having my laundry all over my couch, then gave me fifty bucks to get some healthier groceries because I “eat like I'm still a broke college student”.
“So she's available?” she beamed.
“I'll put a good word in, but I don't think you will have to worry about her disliking you.” You wink at her, only for her to spring a series of questions about Baran.
Finally getting into the parking lot, you both make plans to get drinks after a shift, recommend a few therapists you knew from med school, and bid goodbye. Things aren’t always perfect, but you’re willing to face things together.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I really appreciate anyone willing to give some feedback! I hope y'all had a nice 4th of July! Dividers by @diviniyae
