Archive of Our Own ^beta

It's 8:16am on July 2nd, a Wednesday, and the building is already heating up.

Yolanda hates this time of year. The new crop of interns started a couple of days ago, and she's been stuck with babysitting them while Miller handles most of the ER consults. So really a part of her is grateful that she’s the one being called down today.

Another part of her–the part whose muscles ache from her pilates class yesterday and can already feel a headache coming on–isn't as thrilled. 

The elevator is almost at the ER. Yolanda runs her hand over the tight bun that her hair is pulled into, smoothing invisible fly away strands.

The doors open with a ping and she steps out, walking quickly over to Trauma 1. 

"What've we got?" Yolanda's eyes scan the room before her. Robby, Samira, Princess and Jesse are standing around the gurney, alongside someone she doesn't recognise with their back to her. A new med student, maybe. 

"Adam Peters, 36. Open fracture to the left tibia after he fell about 10 feet at a construction site. Vital signs good." Robby reels off. 

Yolanda finishes tying up her trauma gown and steps up to the bedside. "Hi Adam, I'm Dr Garcia. I'm going to take a look at your leg and work out what we need to do next."

Lifting the gauze off his leg, she whistles through her teeth at the site of the large wound. 

"What do you think?"

"Definitely surgical. We can take him once you've got a CT and more scans."

"Great." Robby turns to the head of the gurney, where the newcomer Yolanda had noticed when she first came in is stood . It's a young woman in black scrubs and a light grey undershirt, dark hair pulled tightly back into a short ponytail. "Dr Santos, what do we have to consider when treating a break like this?"

The new girl–Santos–looks up from where she's dressing a cut on the patient's hand. Her eyes land on Robby as she confidently answers "Compartment syndrome, neurovascular injury, and then following surgery there’s also a high risk of osteomyelitis ." 

"Exactly," he nods. "Oh, Dr Garcia is one of our surgical residents. Garcia, this is Dr Santos, our newest intern. She started yesterday."

Santos' eyes flicker over to Yolanda and widen slightly, as if she hadn't really noticed her before. She's pretty, Yolanda thinks absent-mindedly; green eyes, a heart-shaped face, pink lips that she's worrying with her teeth.

"Hey", Santos says, flushing a little. Interesting.

Yolanda nods at her in return. "Hi," she says. "Good luck with this one as a teacher - make sure his bad habits don't rub off on you" , turning to aim that last part at Robby with a smirk.

"Yolanda, play nice. It's her second day!"

"Hey, I'm always nice." Yolanda pushes through the clear doors on her way out, turning back to them to say over her shoulder, "Let me know when he's back from CT and I'll take him up." 

Robby shoots her a double thumbs up. 

Yolanda taps the doorframe twice as she walks out, and doesn't think about the new intern at all as she walks to the elevator.

As the day unfolds, Yolanda feels like she’s constantly being paged to the ER. 

Two ex-laps, a car crash involving a mom and two kids, a bad head injury, and an emergency thoracotomy all before her lunch break. If she ever took one, that is. 

Every time she's down there, she seems to run into Santos. 

Well, more accurately Yolanda seems to be on a lot more cases than usual with Samira. She overheard a snippet of a conversation the other week where Robby was complaining to Collins about how the now third year resident needed to be more proactive with traumas and stop spending huge amounts of time with each of her patients. 

Yolanda can't imagine wanting to talk to her patients more than necessary, but then again that might be why she became a surgeon and not a psychiatrist. Anyway, she likes Samira enough–she's very smart, and unlike Langdon seems perpetually annoyed with Robby in a way that Yolanda can really get behind–but today being called down onto cases with Samira means being on cases with her new intern-shaped shadow. 

She's very eager. That's Yolanda’s second thought about Santos, after pretty. Offering to do procedures, quickly answering Collins' questions about differential diagnostics, her gloved hands moving nimbly as she rolls the ultrasound wand over a patient.

Maybe a bit too eager, at times; Santos does order the wrong medication for a patient at one point, but it's caught early and no real damage is done. Langdon doesn't seem to agree, and Yolanda hears him swearing under his breath as he pushes out of the room, leaving Santos and Yolanda alone with the now-stabilised patient. 

Yolanda is used to this; she and Langdon are friends, largely because of the traits they have in common. Both are stubborn and argumentative, like to joke in slightly inappropriate settings, and love beautiful women. But usually Langdon’s a lot more patient with his med students and other new staff members than Yolanda can bear to be. She’s not sure why he’s being quite so… irritable today. Maybe just a bad night, or another fight with Abby (increasingly frequent, if the staff gossip is to be believed). 

Turning to look at the intern, Yolanda feels like she should say something.

Santos is standing by the monitor, looking at the floor. Her hair has partially come out of its tie, and is softly framing her face. She takes a deep breath, and Yolanda gears up to… she doesn’t know what. Let the new doctor know that Langdon is an ass, maybe. Or say (again) that as an intern, she's expected to make mistakes. It's part of the job description. But before she can, Santos mumbles something about having to check on another patient and speedwalks out of the room, running her hand over her face.

So Yolanda's list of things she knows about Santos now has three points on it: pretty, eager, and not as confident as she seems. She would be lying if she said she wasn't intrigued. 

The next time she's consulting on a case, a whole 40 minutes later, Yolanda feels herself looking for Santos without meaning to. She's focused on the patient, obviously, but this is somehow her first ER case today where the intern hasn't been present. 

On the table is a teenager with a bad injury to his arm and burns across one side of his face and neck from a firework (which, really? It's not the fourth yet). While she's busy testing his range of motion she feels someone looking at the back of her head. 

After finishing up, she looks through the glass doors of the room and her eyes catch on the nurse's station. Princess and Perlah are staring right at her, not trying to hide their interest. Next to them Samira looks like she's trying not to smile, while Santos–attached to Samira’s hip, unsurprisingly–has her head in her hands. Weird. Back in the trauma room, McKay says something to Yolanda and she turns her attention back to the patient.

The next case they work together, Yolanda tries to talk to Santos a bit more. It’s a broken ankle this time and when Yolanda enters the room, it’s just Santos, Samira and Donnie inside. Samira is standing at the phone, seemingly arguing with someone about a consult, while Donnie and Santos are trying to calm the patient down with little success. 

She’s a blonde woman around Yolanda’s age, wearing a sleeveless white sundress which is quickly absorbing a lot of blood from a cut on her forehead. Donnie is trying to hold gauze over the wound, but the woman keeps squirming away.

“Ma’am–" he’s saying firmly, “Ma’am, I’m sorry but we can’t help you if you won’t sit still! Can you please just–” 

Snapping on a new pair of gloves, Yolanda turns to Santos. “Dr Santos, what’ve we got?”

“Ah–” Santos quickly looks at Samira, who nods her ahead from where she’s still arguing. “Lara Sullivan, 32. Presented with a head lac and ankle pain after she tripped going down some stairs. Our initial exam found tenderness over both the lateral and medial malleolus and an inability to bear weight on her right foot, so we sent her for an X-ray.”

“Good presentation,” Yolanda says. Santos shoots her a small smile. “Where are the scans?”

Across the room, Samira sighs and finally hangs up the phone. “That was who I was trying to get a hold of. Radiology’s been backlogged all day, but apparently he’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Okay. And the head wound you mentioned?”

“Oh, god–it seems to just be a surface wound so we put steri-strips on it before Lara went up to radiology, but on her way back she somehow managed to rip them off and the bleeding got worse. Her ankle seems to be feeling worse as well.” 

Samira makes her way over to the head of the bed and speaks softly, this time to the patient. “Hi Lara, we’re going to give you a bit more pain relief for your ankle, is that okay?” When she nods, Samira smiles. “Great. Do you think that you can hold still for Donnie while he does that?” 

Again, Lara nods and seems to calm down. Samira gestures at Santos to come and take over, holding pressure on her head while Donnie moves away. Yolanda laughs lightly at the surprised look on Santos’ face at how well Samira’s words calmed down the patient. 

Outside, someone knocks quickly on the door. Samira turns and sighs, pulling her gloves off. “I need to go and check on another patient, but I’ll be back when radiology brings her scans. Dr Garcia, would you mind hanging around until then?”

Yolanda nods. “That should be fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Perfect.”

She leaves, and Garcia takes another look at Lara’s ankle. It’s very swollen, which makes sense, and bruising heavily. 

“How exactly did she do this?” She says under her breath to Santos. The younger woman smirks as she changes out the gauze she’s holding on Lara’s head. Thankfully, Lara is a lot calmer now, laying on the gurney with her eyes closed. 

“Apparently Wednesday is the perfect day for bottomless brunch.”

“Oh, of course.” 

She looks around the room, appreciating the way that the doors are muffling what seems to be a chaotic hour in the ED. It’s nice to have a moment of downtime, but Yolanda isn’t used to this. Maybe this is the perfect time to get to know Santos a little better.

“So, where have you joined us from, Dr Santos?”

“Baltimore. Well, Hopkins really.” 

Yolanda raises her eyebrows. “Impressive. What made you decide on Pittsburgh then? Family nearby?” Watching Santos, she notices how the intern frowns at this question. Maybe family’s a bit of a touchy subject for her.

“No, I just liked the programme. And the city seemed nice enough.”

“Everyone treating you okay?”

She hesitates a little, then nods. “Yeah, they are. I have a lot to learn, though, that’s clear.”

Before Yolanda can respond, the door opens again and Samira comes in with the X-ray tech. Watts, she thinks.

“Oh great, you’re still here. Sorry about the wait. Okay, Lara, we’ll know how best to help you in just a minute okay?” On the bed, the blonde responds with a tired “Mhm” and closes her eyes again.

By the foot of the bed, the tech brings the scans up on the screen. As Yolanda is feeling generous today she lets Samira show Santos the scans before she takes a look. 

Samira shoots her a surprised look but says nothing. Which, fair; Yolanda knows that she’s acting a little out of character. In her time at PTMC she’s developed a bit of a reputation, much like the rest of the surgical staff, for not really tolerating… well, anyone. But Santos seems competent for an intern. 

Not to mention, she manages to look good in the Pitt’s horrific fluorescent lighting, which is a feat in itself. As Santos hovers at Samira‘s shoulder to look at Lara’s scans, Yolanda takes her in. She’s a couple of inches shorter than Yolanda, and it’s clear that beneath her underscrubs her arms are toned. Yolanda feels herself staring as Santos’ tongue darts out of her mouth to wets her lips and she nods in response to something Samira says. 

Samira gestures to Yolanda to look at the scans. She somehow manages to move to go and look at the screen at the same time that Santos starts back over to Lara’s bedside, and they walk into each other.

“Oh shit, sorry–” Santos begins to say, her eyes wide.

Yolanda shakes her head and touches her arm lightly. “No worries.”

Santos smiles weakly and continues over to the patient. She pulls on a fresh pair of gloves and starts to organise the tools on the tray next to the bed, presumably to take another look at the cut on Lara’s head.

“See the break there, and there?” Yolanda looks back at the screen, nodding in response to Samira’s words. “I don’t think she needs surgery, how about you?”

“No, a cast should do the trick.” Yolanda replies as she studies the images. It’s a nasty break, but she can’t say she’s annoyed to have one less surgery to send up to the OR.

“Perfect, thank you both so–” a loud shout and clatter interrupts Samira where she’s turned to dismiss Watts, and all of their heads snap towards the source of the noise.

Lara is sat upright on the bed, looking confused and holding her head. But Santos is on the floor, the stool she was just sitting on fallen on its side.

Samira moves over to her, frowning. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Santos lets her pull her up, brushing her hands against her scrubs and shaking her head.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, sorry. I started cleaning Lara’s cut and it must have been really cold or something because she startled and pushed back at me and, well.” She gestures at the stool and the tray where it’s fallen over, and winces slightly.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No, my arm just stings a little, I must have knocked it.” Santos raises a hand and touches her bicep, and it comes away covered in red. “Oh, shit.” Her eyes widen and fall to the floor comically, and Yolanda’s follow them to where an unsheathed scalpel sits next to the bed.

Samira sighs. “Please tell me that was sterile.” At Santos’ responding nod, she looks relieved, hands a piece of gauze to the intern, and continues. “Okay, new plan. Keep pressure on that and go and find an open room. I’ll send Donnie or someone else in to take care of it.”

“What about the patient?”

“I’ll handle it. You’ll have to fill out a few forms, but it’ll be quick.”

Santos nods and backs out of the room, looking annoyed at herself. 

“Just what I needed,” Samira laments, picking up the stool. “Hey, where did Donnie go anyways?”

He must have left the room when she and Santos were talking. Yolanda doesn’t really feel bad for not noticing. “I’m not sure.”

Samira sighs again. “Would you mind telling Dana what happened and sending someone in to help Dr Santos? I would, it’s just-” she gestures towards the patient.

“Of course. See you soon, probably.”

“Yep. Okay, Lara, so we don’t think you’ll need surgery…” Yolanda steps out of the room, Samira’s voice fading as she shuts the door behind her.

Scanning the ED, her eyes land on the charge nurse where she’s standing in front of the board. Walking over, Yolanda calls out to her. 

“Dana.”

The nurse looks at her over the top of her glasses. “Dr Garcia. What can I do for you?”

“Any nurses free?” Dana raises an eyebrow and looks around the room, pursing her lips. 

“I don’t think so. We’re short staffed today. Though hey, when are we not. What do you need help with?”

“Not me. Your new intern got stuck with a scalpel, I think she needs someone to take a look.”

“Dammit. I thought I saw her looking a little bloody a minute ago but I hoped it was a patient’s.” Dana chuckles. “I’ll send someone in as soon as they’re free.”

“Great.” Yolanda turns to head up to the surgical floor but hesitates a second. Fuck it. She turns back to Dana, whose attention is back on her work. “Actually, I can probably sort her out.”

Amazingly, this gets Dana to look up from her clipboard. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m free right now, and if someone pages me I’ll just find Langdon and make him take over.” 

Dana smiles. “Thanks. She’s in north five, tell her I need to get her to sign something afterwards and she’ll need to talk to behavioural health.”

“Great. Will do.” Heading over to the room, Yolanda wonders if she’s made a mistake. Samira was already giving her a weird look about her treatment of the intern, but Yolanda knows that the R3 is weirdly averse to gossip. Dana is a different story. As a policy Yolanda doesn’t really care what people say about her, but that doesn’t mean she wants to hear shit from Langdon about her newfound generosity later.

Distracted thinking about this, Yolanda knocks quickly on the door and opens it without waiting for a response. She pulls the curtain back and–oh. 

Santos is sat on the bed, twisted in a way that lets her look at the cut high up on her arm. She isn’t wearing her scrub top, and her undershirt–which has a surprising amount of blood on it–is crumpled on the floor next to her. She’s just wearing a grey sports bra.

She has tattoos. Yolanda stares at her, her brain short-circuiting.

“Oh, shit, sorry. I didn’t think you–well, I didn’t think anyone would be in so soon.” Santos speaking snaps Yolanda out of whatever fugue she was in, and prompts her to pull the curtain back behind her. “Wait, what are you doing here? Is Lara okay?”

“Lara?”

“The patient, with the ankle, and the–” she gestures at her arm, and the bright red slash that marks it.

“No, no, she’s fine. Dr Mohan is doing her cast now.”

Santos frowns again. “And she sent you to check up on me? Aren’t you busy?”

“Ah, there weren’t any nurses available, so.” She fidgets slightly, trying not to look at Santos’ chest. God, she’s a doctor. She shouldn’t feel weird about this.

“Oh, well, if you don’t mind.” Santos moves so she’s fully sat on the bed and lifts her arm so that Yolanda can see it better. “It’s not deep or anything, just long.”

Yolanda gingerly sits on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to put on a gown or anything, or is this..?”

“Oh! No, it’s fine for me, sorry. Grew up doing sports, so,” Santos shrugs loosely, wincing at what the movement does to her shoulder.

“Okay.” Yolanda is fine. She can be fine with this. “With where the cut is it’s probably easier like this anyway.”

Santos hums in agreement.

Yolanda puts on a new pair of gloves and inspects the cut. A bit deeper than she had hoped. She sucks in a breath through her teeth and looks at Santos, only to find green eyes already looking down at her. 

“I need stitches?” At the responding nod, Santos leans her head back and sighs. “This is shaping up to be a great first day.”

“I’m sorry. Back in a minute.” Standing up, Yolanda pulls the curtain back behind her, and notices Santos’ scrub top abandoned by the door. She hesitates for a second before picking it up and leaving the room.

A few minutes later, she comes back in the room with everything she needs. Pulling back the curtain, she tosses a fresh scrub top at Santos. It hits her square in the face, and she laughs, surprised. 

“Thank you.” 

Yolanda shrugs it off. “Thought I’d save you the trip.”

As she cleans the now dried blood around the cut on Santos’ arm, Yolanda decides to distract them both.

“We didn’t get a chance to finish talking earlier. Was PTMC your first choice for your residency?” Yolanda knows from Langdon’s boasting during their intern year that the EM residency at PTMC is both difficult and very selective. But she sees Santos hesitate.

“Not exactly. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do for a while, and this programme was my third choice? I think.”

“Little pinch” Yolanda numbs the area and looks at Santos, who’s staring at the cut on her arm. “What was your first choice?”

Santos smiles ruefully. “Part of me wanted to do surgery, another wanted to do EM. My application was a bit of a mess.”

“Oh, ambitious.” Yolanda makes the first stitch and thinks for a minute.

Santos nods. “Mhm, that’s me. Maybe a bit too ambitious. Do you think that’ll scar?”

“No, probably not. I’ve been told I’m very good with my hands.”

She feels Santos huff a laugh, and smiles as she keeps suturing.

It doesn’t take long, and immediately after she finishes her pager goes off. Another case to take up to the OR, great. 

“My talents are needed elsewhere, but you should be good to go. I don’t have to tell you the discharge instructions, I hope?”

“Nope, all good. Thank you for doing this, it was a lot quicker than I expected.”

Yolanda snaps her gloves off and stands up to leave. “You don’t need to keep thanking me, it was no problem. We wouldn’t want our interns walking around with uneven stitches, it would be a bad look for the hospital. Oh, and about surgery–” Santos’ head lifts from where she’s examining Yolanda’s neat sutures. “Have you considered double boarding? It’s a lot of work, but it’s something PTMC offers.”

Her eyes widen a bit. “I have, but I don’t really know anything about how it works.”

“I would be happy to talk you through it some time. Maybe over drinks?” she flashes a smile at Santos.

“Yes! I mean yeah, that would be great.” Santos stutters, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and grabbing the new scrub top from where it fell before.

“Perfect. See you around then.” Yolanda turns to leave, and suddenly remembers something. “Oh, and Dana needs to talk to you.”

Santos nods. “Great. Thank you. Again.”

“It was my pleasure. Goodbye, Dr Santos.”

“Bye”, Santos quietly says as the door closes. Yolanda’s first impression was right, then. She’s very interesting.

The elevator seems to be stuck on the third floor. Yolanda sighs to herself, and pushes through the doors to the stairwell. At least taking the stairs back up to surgery means she might get a bit of a break, some time to clear her head after today.

“Good afternoon, Yoyo.” a familiar voice says from behind her. 

Or not.

“Frank.” the man grimaces at the sound of his first name. “Why are you so chipper?”

“Oh, no reason in particular. The day’s almost over, and I’m looking forward to the holiday. Oh, look at this–” he holds out his wrist to her. There’s a new bracelet on it, lettered beads spelling out D-A-D. “Tanner made it at school. Abby has a matching one.”

“That’s sweet. Only four and he’s already more talented than you.”

“Oh ha, ha.”

They start walking up the stairs, Langdon taking them two at a time. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to ask you about a patient we had the other day, the Canadian guy with the gnarly back injury?”

She wracks her brain for a second. “Car vs tree?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s doing okay, I think. Survived the surgery at least.”

“Great. And his wife?”

She shakes her head slowly. “No idea, I think Walsh was on that one.”

“Ah.”

A moment passes.

“Was that it?”

“What?” Langdon looks suspicious. And more so than usual, which is saying something.

“Was there something else? Or did you seriously decide to join me on walking all the way up to the surgical floor just to ask about a patient you had a week ago.” Yolanda would normally entertain him for longer than this, but she’s too tired and it’s too hot to play mind games.

“No, that wasn’t it.” They stop walking. A slightly unnerving smile comes onto her friend’s face. “When were you planning on telling me you know our new resident Seattler.” He frowns. “Seattleite?”

“Your who?” Langdon is great–not that she’ll ever admit it–but he really does love to talk more than he likes getting to the point.

“The new intern. Santos.”

She looks at him, confused. “What are you talking about? I just met her today.” Langdon’s brain tends to work too quickly (and scatteredly) for people to follow, but Yolanda never usually has a problem with it.

“Interesting. That’s not what I heard.”

Yolanda sighs. She might as well just ask him and put him out of his misery. “Fine. Tell me, o wise one. What did you hear?”

“Well,” He’s grinning at her now. “I overheard Samira asking her about how her first day was going earlier and she said, everyone’s been nice. And that it was funny that she saw you, because you and her–I quote, ‘used to know each other’ –”

She tries to interrupt him to correct him; “I don’t think-”

“And,” he continues, “a little birdie told me that you two were in one of the patient rooms for a while earlier, and then Santos came out without her shirt on.” She raises her eyebrows and he quickly says “Undershirt, her undershirt.”

“She got cut earlier, by a patient. It was an accident but she needed stitches.” 

“And a nurse couldn’t do them?”

“I was the only person available.”

“Hmm. Very generous of you, Yoyo.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Yolanda can be generous! Maybe not to Langdon, but he’s annoying. And she doesn’t think he’s cute. 

“I’m just saying… this is all very Grey’s Anatomy.”

“What.”

“Sleeping with your subordinate? And then pretending it didn’t happen. Gotta say, this even surprised me.”

“What.”

“I mean, I’m not that surprised, given well, you, but–”

She cuts him off firmly. “Langdon. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have no memory of her before today.”

He blinks. “Wait, are you serious?”

Yolanda nods emphatically. Is he fucking with her? It wouldn’t be the first time, but he seems surprisingly earnest if that’s the case, and Yolanda knows how terrible his poker face is.

“Oh, wow. Sleeping with an intern and then having no memory of it… this is even better than Grey’s. Wow, I wonder if there’s a betting pool yet…” Langdon’s voice trails off and he starts muttering under his breath, counting something on his fingers.

Yolanda tries to think it over. She did think Santos looked vaguely familiar this morning: maybe something about her voice, or her smile. But there are other things she thinks she would have remembered had they slept together. Her armful of tattoos, the sound of her voice, maybe even the way that she looked without a shirt on!

This can’t be happening. She would remember. 

“Oh, looks like they need you back upstairs.”

There’s no way she could have forgotten… would she?

“Yoyo? Yolanda.” she’s dragged out of her thoughts by Langdon snapping his fingers in front of her face. Pushing his hand away, she realises her pager’s going off.

“I’ve got to go. Can you not tell anyone what you just said?”

He pouts. Jesus Christ.

“Langdon, I’m serious.”

“Fine, fine. I’m just saying… I thought you had better taste.” He turns and goes back down the stairs to the ED, laughing to himself.

“Langdon. Langdon.” He’s so annoying. “Frank!” Yolanda hisses at him down the stairwell.  

Langdon obviously has no reason to think that what he says is true. But the more Yolanda thinks about what he said, she starts to think he might be right. 

And when she steps out of the hospital that evening, only an hour after her shift should have ended, she hasn’t managed to shake what Langdon said from her mind. 

It feels crazy to her, that she wouldn’t recognise someone she’d met under those circumstances. 

Sure, Yolanda goes out quite a lot, especially when she was in med school and during the start of her residency. And, compared to Langdon with his wife and kids and white picket fence, she still does. She rarely gets drunk enough to forget faces, and even less often does she sleep with someone when she’s in that state. The odds of that happening, and said girl then showing up to her work as a colleague, feel very slim. 

But she had felt like she had seen Santos before, some kind of pull towards her. This is why she can’t help but contemplate Langdon’s theory.

Yolanda shakes her head, trying to stop thinking about it. The sky this evening is beautiful in different shades of pink and blue, and she’s free to go home and sleep and put this day out of her mind. Maybe do the crossword she didn’t have time for this morning, or watch some mindless TV.

Making her way over to the parking lot, her eyes catch on someone leaning against the side of the building with their eyes closed.

It’s Santos. Because of course it is. Think of the devil, or however the saying goes. 

Like Yolanda, she’s taken her hair down after finishing work. But unlike Yolanda, she seems to have had the energy to change her clothes too. Instead of her black scrubs she’s wearing a dark pink tank top and tan cargo pants, cradling a cigarette in one hand.

“You know those things will kill you, right?”

Santos jolts slightly, her eyes snapping open. “Hey.”

“Falling asleep there, Dr Santos? Not a very good look.”

“Definitely not. Just resting my eyes.”

“Oh, sure, sure.”

Santos pushes off of the wall and rolls her shoulders back languidly. She takes a final drag of her cigarette before crushing it under her foot. “You heading home?”

“Yes. Finally.” Yolanda shakes her hand where she's holding her car keys. They jingle faintly.

Santos smiles. “Me too. I’m exhausted.” She clicks her tongue and looks at Yolanda. “I definitely owe you a drink after earlier, but can we maybe do that another day?”

Yolanda freezes. Shit, she might have to confront it after all. Santos clearly notices her hesitation and starts to backpedal. “Or not! We don’t have to, I just meant that I owe you.”

They start walking towards the parking lot again. “No, that’s great. I would like to, um. Another day maybe. There’s something that I wanted to ask you about first though.” Santos looks relieved, giving her a nod, and Yolanda takes it as a sign to keep talking. "It's just–Langdon mentioned hearing something you'd said. About how we've met before?"

Santos nods again, looking confused. "What about it?"

"This is embarrassing, I'm sorry." Yolanda sighs, looks at her feet, and decides to bite the bullet. "I don't remember it. And trust me, I don't usually forget hooking up with pretty girls, even if I'm completely wasted."

She looks back at Santos, who's standing there, stunned.

"Wait, I'm sorry. What?"

"Us, together. I thought you looked a bit familiar when I saw you this morning, but I can't remember when or where we might have met. I don't even know your first name."

To her surprise, Santos starts laughing. "You think–you think that we hooked up?"

"We didn't?"

"No, Yolanda. We didn't. Why do you think that?"

Yolanda is going to kill Frank Langdon. "Fuck. I'm going to kill Langdon."

Santos' face is pink from laughing. "I know the feeling. I didn't realise he heard me talking to Samira."

Yolanda waves a hand, dismissive. "He's a gossip. The whole staff on your floor is."

"Oh, believe me, I've noticed."

She shakes her head. "Wait, stop changing the subject–how exactly do we know each other? Didn't you just move here? According to Langdon we aren't even from the same coast."

Santos tucks her hair behind her ears. "Oh wow, you really don't remember me. I don't know whether to be offended or not." They keep walking. "You lived in LA for a while, right?"

"I did, yeah, for a few years." Yolanda replies, confused. How does she know that? 

Santos grins at her quickly, the sun catching on her hair. "I lived there too, until I was eleven. And we knew each other, in a way. You were friends with my big sister, Grace?"

"Holy shit–Trinity?" Yolanda feels like her eyes are going to pop out of her head.

The girl looks away, suddenly shy again. "That's me."

When people ask where she's from, Yolanda always tells them the truth. New York. City, not state. Obviously. 

After her grandparents left Panamá in the 60s they settled in Queens. Then her parents were born there, and so were Yolanda and her older sister. Yolanda went to NYU for her undergrad. She's from New York. 

But for a few years, her family lived in Los Angeles. They moved there when Yolanda was twelve years old, Sofía fifteen and less than thrilled at leaving her friends on the opposite coast. 

Yolanda didn't mind as much; her father had a new, better job and her parents seemed less stressed than, well, ever. She didn't really mind leaving her school back in New York, either, and the warmer weather was definitely a bonus. 

Still, it wasn't the smoothest transition. Starting seventh grade (she skipped a year of elementary school, always ahead of the curve in… everything) at the end of February meant everyone had already grouped off. Hell, most people had known each other their entire lives. Also, it was a catholic school. Enough said.

Yolanda's parents were at home even less than they were back in New York, and Sofía had immediately found friends (with a car) who she stayed out with far past her curfew. Their house was a lot bigger than the apartment that Yolanda had grown up in. She had her own room for the first time, and they had a backyard. But she was lonely. 

So she joined the cross country team to have something to do after school instead of going home to her empty house. Yolanda was always good at things where she could excel, alone, without relying on other people. But that didn't really help when the problem she was trying to solve was feeling less alone. 

That year ended with her not really having a single friend in California. Yolanda went back to New York that summer and spent it with her cousins. There, she grew about four inches, listened to a lot of “interesting” music (as her mother put it), and learnt how to do makeup. She kissed a boy for the first time next to a dingy park swingset and realised it probably wasn't for her. 

That August when she started the eighth grade, she was convinced to join the volleyball team. It was Grace that asked her to join, one day at the start of the semester in homeroom when she saw Yolanda walk in, alone as usual.

Grace Santos: 13, Virgo, vice captain of the volleyball team, oldest of three children. Waist length wavy brown hair, big dark eyes, tanned oval face, contagious smile. Shorter than Yolanda, but not by much. They were fast friends. 

Pretty quickly, Yolanda started to spend the few afternoons a week that they didn't have practice over at Grace's house. Like Yolanda, her parents weren't at home a huge amount of the time, but Grace's house felt different. Less quiet.

The downside was that they didn't really have a choice in whose house to spend time at. Grace was often stuck looking after her younger siblings: Trinity, Daniel, and a year later Gabriel as well. They were cute enough, Yolanda thought. She had a couple of younger cousins back home, but they were all around her age. She never had to babysit before. 

Grace was used to it, clearly. When her mom was at home, she would keep Daniel occupied, and sit Trinity down at the kitchen table to practice her spelling and math. On those days Grace and Yolanda would practice outside, or listen to music in Grace's room with the door shut. When she wasn't there and left the kids with Grace, they had fewer options. Daniel was two that year, and Trinity must have been six, so they were pretty clingy. Trinity in particular liked to follow Grace around and copy whatever she was doing. 

They didn't look much alike, to be honest. Grace looked like a brunette version of their mother, whereas Trinity and their brothers took after their dad (from what Yolanda could tell from family photos. She didn't meet him for a long time, he worked as an engineer somewhere pretty far away). But it was sweet, seeing Grace's little sister want to be just like her. Yolanda used to feel like that about Sofía, too, back when their mom used to dress them in matching outfits for church.

Once Yolanda and Grace started high school, they didn't have to spend as much time at her house. Their practices went longer after school, and Grace's dad was finally back at home following the birth of her youngest brother that summer. More often they would go to Yolanda's. Both of her parents still worked long hours and trusted that their daughters could look after themselves, and Sofía was usually over at her boyfriend's house.

Still, sometimes Yolanda would stay over at Grace's when her dad was out of town and her mom was busy with something to do with the church (Grace's family was very religious, at least in comparison to Yolanda's) or out of town taking Trinity to a gymnastics competition. Apparently she was extremely good for her age. Yolanda rarely saw Trinity now; gone were the times of her trailing after Grace and Yolanda and begging to be included in their conversations and backyard volleyball games, making them watch Lilo and Stitch and My Little Pony on repeat with her. So Yolanda saw the babies, Daniel and Gabriel, a lot more than she saw Grace's little sister for the next few years. 

In her junior and senior year, she and Grace drifted apart a little. They were both focused on applying to college, and while Grace was captain of their varsity team and spent her free time working on the best formations and plays for their upcoming matches, Yolanda was spending more time trying to hide her first girlfriend from her parents. 

The few times she went over to Grace's house senior year, it had changed a little. Her parents were “just going through a rough patch”, Grace said when Yolanda asked one time, sighing, and it was clear that her siblings weren't handling it great. 

Daniel was trying to fight other kids at kindergarten, and slightly terrifyingly she found out that Gabriel had started to bite people. She doesn't really remember Trinity at all during that period, except for one specific memory which only stood out because it was a little weird. 

Yolanda had been walking to Grace's room from their hallway, going past Trinity's door when it opened suddenly. Trinity –maybe 10 years old, tiny, long hair with the same blunt bangs she'd seemingly had since birth–came out in sports gear carrying her gym bag. Lifting her head slightly, she saw Yolanda and before she could even start to say hello Trinity's eyes widened, she turned sharply on her heel and was back in her room, the door slammed shut behind her. 

17 year old Yolanda took that as a sign that yeah, her parents' marital issues were probably worse than Grace was saying, but she shrugged it off. Yolanda knows that realistically she must have seen Grace's family after that–she vaguely remembers them all being at their graduation, sat alongside her parents, Sofía long since moved away–but this is how she's remembered Grace's little sister the few times she's thought of them in the years since. 

While Yolanda went back to NYU for college like she'd always planned, Grace went to USC. When Yolanda was at home visiting her parents the summer after freshman year, Grace told her that her family had moved up to the PNW for a new job of her father's. They were drifting apart by this point, and although they kept in touch throughout college Yolanda thinks the last time she saw Grace was probably when they were 23, just before her parents moved back to New York. 

Long story short, it's been a long time since she thought about Trinity Santos.

“So. Grace.” It’s been about twenty minutes since Yolanda found out who Trinity–Trinity, because calling her Santos just felt wrong now–was. In her shock, she had taken back her earlier raincheck and suggested that they grab a drink and catch up. As Trinity drove to work too, they left in their separate cars. Which handily gave Yolanda about fifteen minutes to freak the fuck out. 

“Grace.” Trinity agrees with a nod. Her face is bathed in the soft lighting of the outdoor area of the restaurant they’re in, lighting up the green of her eyes. It’s astounding, Yolanda thinks, that she looks so different from the girl that Yolanda remembers, but she still feels like she should have remembered her from her eyes alone.

“How is she? I think the last I heard of her, she was engaged to that guy she met in college, what was his name-”

“Oh, Jacob? That didn’t last.” Trinity says, shaking her head.

“No?” Yolanda remembers Grace going on and on about how great he was the last time she saw her. A firefighter, if she remembers right, which in retrospect was probably a bit of a red flag.

“Nope. It was a whole thing, very dramatic.” Trinity widens her eyes for emphasis, before digging her phone out of her pocket. “She did get married, though, about… five or so years ago? They’re both teachers. Two kids now.”

“No way.”

Trinity brings something up on the screen of her phone. “Yep. I have a picture, if you want-” 

“Oh yeah, sure.”  Yolanda says eagerly, shuffling closer to the younger woman and fixing her eyes on the screen. It’s a photo of a family: two little boys, toddlers, are hugging at the front, and crouching behind them are Grace and the man who must be her husband. 

The boys are matching in striped blue and white t-shirts, both with messy dark hair and blunt bangs. The taller of the two’s eyes are scrunched shut, his wide grin showing a gap where his two front teeth should be. The smaller one, who looks maybe two or three years old, looks shyer. His eyes are round and sea green, bright against his skin. Grace’s hand is resting on his shoulder, she and her husband bracketing their sons safely in place.

She looks practically the same as when Yolanda last saw her: long dark hair swept over one shoulder; a blinding smile reaching up to her eyes; freckles dotting the brown skin over her nose and the tops of her shoulders. In a white tank top and denim shorts, a pair of dark brown sunglasses on the top of her head pushing her hair back from her face. Yolanda realises with a jolt that she recognises the necklace Grace is wearing; it’s the gold four-way cross medal that she got given at her first communion.

Next to Grace, her husband–broad shouldered, square jaw, slightly sunburnt–is wearing much the same expression. Yolanda can’t see his eyes under the dark tint of his sunglasses, but she thinks he looks kind. Hopefully the type of man that Grace always talked about marrying, the man she hoped to get in their never ending games of M.A.S.H. back in eighth grade.

She swallows, a little emotional. “Oh wow, the boys look just like your brothers.”

Trinity smiles softly, tucking the phone away. “You think?”

“From what I can remember, yeah. How are they, and your parents?” Yolanda takes a sip of her drink, the glass slippery with condensation in the warm night.

Trinity does the same, pausing a second before she answers. “Danny and Gabe are good. Both in college. And Danny’s thinking about law school, so my dad’s thrilled.” She fiddles with the cocktail napkin in front of her, twisting her lips. “And my mom’s… fine. So happy to have grandkids, of course.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Are they close by? To your parents, I mean,” she says.

“Not too far. They’re in Oregon, and my parents are still in Seattle. But how about you? I remember Grace saying something about your family moving back to the east coast.”

“That’s right. My parents retired, and my sister moved back too a few years after she had her son.” Yolanda smiles, thinking about her nephew. She’s not big on kids, and has never wanted them for herself, but when Lucas was born she helped out a lot and their bond has stuck. “He’s in middle school, which feels crazy. I swear he was just born a few years ago.”

Trinity leans back in her chair, arms stretched so that her hands rest on the edge of the table in front of them.

“Time flies, I guess.”

Yolanda nods slowly. 

“So. Why did you go to medical school? I thought you might have gone pro, you know, with the gymnastics.”

It’s subtle, but Yolanda notices how something flickers over Trinity’s face for a second, replacing the light smile she had been wearing. She swallows hard, and then she’s smiling again, not quite reaching her eyes. 

“I went to college on scholarship for it. UCLA,” she offers before Yolanda gets the chance to ask. “but going further than that… no. And medicine, I don’t know. A calling, I suppose.” She shrugs off that last statement, laughing a bit, but Yolanda can sense the honesty under it. “Although, today… I don’t know.”

“Felt a bit like being dropped in at the deep end?”

“Yeah, a little. I feel like it could have been a lot worse–most of the staff were really helpful, and I like the pace…” Most people? “But I kind of feel like the universe was making a point that I need to work on my bedside manner.” she jokes, gesturing to the white dressing on her arm.

“Hey, I was there. I can be a character witness–it wasn’t anyone’s fault. She didn’t know where she was.”

Trinity laughs softly, dragging a hand down her face. “I know, it’s just–she was so calm when Samira was treating her, I don’t know what happened!”

Yolanda scoffs, thinking about the soft-spoken R3. “Oh, Samira’s basically Cinderella, I wouldn’t feel offended.”

“I can see that.”

“Yeah, Langdon used to complain about it.” she sees Trinity freeze slightly at that, and corrects herself. “But she’s great, you’re in good hands learning from her.”

“I’m glad.”

A moment passes, Trinity looking down at her hands. 

“Can I ask you something?” she says, voice quiet. She looks up, fixing her startling eyes on Yolanda.

“You just did.”

Trinity rolls her eyes. “Funny. No–this morning. You were being nice to me.”

“I was.”

“And I assumed that it was because we knew each other. And that you wouldn’t bring it up over a patient, because you’re very professional, but that you had recognised me.”

“Ah.” 

“Which made sense to me. And that’s why when I was talking to Samira, and Dana, and Princess and Perlah–”

“Oh wow.”

“Yeah, they were very curious–that’s why I told them we knew each other. Because they were asking me what I had done to make you be nice. Apparently you’re normally a bit… I think they used the word frostier, to, well, everyone.”

Yolanda has to suppress a laugh. “That’s true.”

“But you didn’t remember me.”

“I remember you now.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.” Trinity looks determined, and a little annoyed at how evasive Yolanda is being.

“That’s true.”

“So.”

“So what?”

“So, why were you being so nice to me?”

Yolanda sighs. Maybe she had really misjudged Trinity this morning, and she’s a lot straighter than she looks. “Why do you think?”

Trinity blinks owlishly. “I don’t know.”

“Trinity…” Yolanda is so tired. But she believes in honesty above all else. She sighs again, meeting Trinity’s eyes. “I was flirting with you. Badly, apparently, if you didn’t pick up on it.”

“I did work that out.” the younger woman says, looking sheepish. “Eventually. When you thought we had slept together.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Sorry.”

“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. Let’s just forget about it.”

“No, no, you didn’t. You don’t. It’s just…” Trinity pauses for a second, looking for the right words. “Okay, imagine you’re me. First day of your new job, new city, you don’t know anyone. And then your childhood crush walks in. And you think she remembers you, and she’s so nice, and clearly amazing at her job, and even more beautiful than you remember.”

“Oh.”

“And then you kept talking to me. And you stitched up my arm, even though Dana told me someone else would have been free to do it pretty much immediately. And when you asked me if I wanted to get a drink sometime, I thought Wow. This is so kind of her, doing her high school best friend’s annoying little sister a favour like that even though you guys haven’t spoken in years.”

Yolanda pauses, taking in the new information. 

“Okay. When you put it like that, I see why you might not have picked up on it.” she says slowly. At least this means there’s nothing wrong with her ability to flirt, not that she was really doubting that. Suddenly she realises something, horrified. “Oh my god. Was I your gay awakening?”

Trinity scoffs. “Please. No, that was Mulan.”

“Okay. Good.” She waits again for a second, then asks, “But if you had known I was flirting with you…”

“If I had known… I probably would have embarrassed myself even more.”

“And would you have said yes to going out with me?”

“You’re so direct.” Trinity says, amused.

Yolanda shrugs. “It’s the best way to get what you want.”

Trinity’s eyes darken slightly hearing that. She nods. “I would have said yes. Definitely. But I get that now it might be weird for you, so no pressure.”

It could be. But Yolanda doesn’t feel like the same person she was five years ago, let alone a teenager. And Trinity clearly isn’t the same either. It’s a little weird, of course. But the woman in front of her is very intriguing. She’s nothing like what Yolanda would have expected, if you had asked her to picture the girl she used to know grown up. 

“I’m still interested.”

“Oh. Good. I mean, that sounds good.”

Yolanda holds a hand out, impatient. “Give me your phone.”

Trinity scrambles to pull it out and unlocks it quickly, handing the device over to Yolanda. It’s still open on the photo she had shown her, and Yolanda quickly taps out of it to save her number in the contacts.

She passes it back to Trinity, their hands brushing lightly together.

“Send me your number. I should go, I have an early shift, but it was great to catch up.”

“I’m working the same.” Trinity says, moving to stand up.

“Perfect. Walk me out?”

They walk in a comfortable silence out to the sidewalk, where they realise that they’re heading in opposite directions.

“It was really nice to see you again, Trinity.” Yolanda leans in and brushes her lips against Trinity’s cheek, enjoying watching the flush that spreads down her face in response.

Trinity nods, without words for once.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” Trinity says, tucking her hair back behind her ears and raising one hand in a wave.

Yolanda turns away, walking to where she parked at the other end of the block. When she gets to her car and turns back for a final look, Trinity has vanished. Yolanda feels a little disappointed, but then her phone buzzes from where it’s sat in her pocket. She pulls it out as she settles into the driver’s seat, reading a new message that has appeared.

[July 2nd, 2025 // 21:46]

(Unknown number)

hi! 

this is trinity :)

duh

You saved this number as Trinity 🔪

Yolanda Garcia

Hi Trinity

Already trying to plan our second date?

Trinity 🔪

[typing….]