Chapter Text
Fuck.
Trinity tries to bring her mind to a more real thought, attempts to will herself to really use her brain for something. But fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There's not much to think about now, except how absolutely fucked she is. Not only herself, but the whole situation, whatever the fuck this means.
She grabs the pregnancy test again, sees the clear two lines, the control line perfectly blue, and the fucking positive one next to it. She doesn't know if she wants to hide it, some intrinsic family-learnt shame growing in her chest, or if she wants to throw it away, pretend this isn't happening.
Except that she can't, right? She can't simply pretend this isn't happening, at least not forever. She has seen it in med school and bad TV shows, if she simply ignores this, the most likely outcome will still be a baby in a little less than nine months.
If it wasn't enough to have the most awkward month, trying to avoid the nurses gossiping about her, and Mel's big, sad eyes, now she has to deal with this.
How is she supposed to tell Mel about it? Is she supposed to say it at all? It's not like she wants it. She knows, logically, that it's some cells for now, barely has a heartbeat, unable to feel pain. It would be easy, a couple of pills to get rid of it. Go to a hospital that isn't the PMTC, ask for a few days off, be back as normal in a week.
But it also isn't like she doesn't want it. It's a terrible time, with Robby gone and Al-Hashimi doing nothing but giving directions left and right, expecting too much of everyone at every given moment. But also, it's not like she would put a hold on her life forever. It's not like no one has had a baby while doing their residency. Langdon managed what? Two? McKay also has a kid, and Collins adopted one right out of the program.
She could probably work something out. After all, she spent half her teenage years, most of her schooling, taking care of her brothers, and still got a full ride scholarship. If it happens, it isn't the end of the world.
The thing is, she doesn't know if she wants it to happen, or not.
"Trin? You good in there?" Whitaker asks.
"Yeah! Will be out in a minute!" she says, leaving the pregnancy test hidden.
Trinity wants to believe Dennis won't get into her bathroom, but who knows, he could run out of toothpaste or some other thing, assume he can just take some of hers, and accidentally find out one of her deepest, darkest secrets.
"Sorry, didn't hear you coming in," she says. "How was night shift?"
"Tiring, I don't understand how you can enjoy it so much."
"Some of us are meant to be nocturnal," she says, an air of fake ego inflating her words.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I got red-bulls if you want some."
Trinity considers it for a moment, before taking one and putting it in her backpack. If she doesn't, it'll be obviously suspicious. But until she decides what to do, she's not going to drink it. Just in case.
Fuck. This is going to make the whole shift suck.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, why?"
"You seem a bit distracted."
Trinity shakes her head.
"Just woke up a little later than usual."
"Okay, good luck at your shift!"
"Bye Huckleberry!"
The noise of the ED helps her nerves. It's hard to think about her problem when someone is screaming in pain, and there's trauma after trauma incoming. Trinity is feeling almost fatigued, the lack of caffeine making itself known.
At least she hasn't seen Mel yet.
She is not sure she can face her without blurting it, without shouting that she's pregnant and that she needs Mel to have an opinion about it. Even if she doesn't go through with whatever Mel wants, she needs to know what she thinks.
Trinity isn't afraid of Mel having a bad reaction. She knows the resident won't say something straight up mean, like asking why Trinity didn't take emergency contraception, or if she lied about birth control. But maybe she'll have a different reaction, one too kind of Trinity to bear, and that frightens her.
If Mel gets too happy, if she says all the right things, will it make Trinity want to keep it?
"Santos, no cherrypicking," Dana shouts when Trinity gets close to the board.
"Okay, what do you have for me?"
"Baby with a fever or 78 years old with a headache," Dana says. "Or chairs, we can always use a hand in chairs."
"I'll take the headache," Trinity says, not sure if she wants to be close to a baby right now.
"Okay, room 6," Dana says. "Before you go, are you okay?"
"Yeah, just tired, do I look that bad?"
"Just pale. Do you want a coffee?"
"No, no, thank you."
She picks up a tablet and walks to the room.
There's no way Dana knows, right? She couldn't have her figured out yet, right?
If Trinity is honest, she's a little bit scared of her. Dana seems to be the one who's actually in control of the ED, the one who knows everything. Something maternal and frightening about her keeps Trinity on her toes constantly.
So she can't know, right? Trinity doubts Mel told her, and she doubts anyone else could even know. Not even Huckleberry.
Trinity orders the tests, checks over her patient, moves again to a different room. She hides away whenever someone mentions calling a surgical consult, and attempts to walk the other way whenever Mel is too close.
It only works til noon, which is when Mel appears nervously next to her.
"Hey, are you good?" she asks.
"Yes. Hi, by the way," Trinity smiles.
"I tried to talk with your earlier but…"
"Don't worry, I saw you were super busy," Mel says, reaching out for her pocket. "Uh! Oh, I got this for you."
She handles Trinity a KitKat and a granola bar, which shouldn't make her heart swell half as much as it does.
"Thank you, Mel," she says genuinely.
"See you around," Mel replies, already walking away.