quartzfish
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Her hand hovered over the doorhandle, as if she was trying to decide if she should come out at all, or maybe stay in this tiny bathroom forever. It almost felt like once she opened the door she would rejoin the rest of the world, and what had happened would become real. Maybe she could stay here, just her and her thoughts, safe, separated from everyone and everything.
/ Lucy is sexually assaulted by a stranger and Julien comes to her rescue.
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“Spit it out, babe,” Santos prompts tiredly. She cracks open the red bull and takes a long swig.
“Would you go to a bar with me for my 21st birthday?” She blurts, hands twisting in her jacket.
“Would I what?” Santos asks, squinting up at her.
Or
Javadi has a lot of feelings about turning 21 and wants to go clubbing about it. She drags along her crush because apparantly she enjoys suffering
Bookmarked by quartzfish
25 Apr 2026
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“Sure.” His eyes flick over her with something similar to worry. “Are you sick? There’s a bug going around the ED right now so if you caught something that’d make sense.”
“I don’t get sick,” Trinity scoffs.
or
Five times Trinity refuses to accept help while she’s sick during a shift, and one time she does.
(or, alternatively: trinity santos learns how to let herself be loved).
Bookmarked by quartzfish
09 Apr 2026
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Whitaker shrugs sort of helplessly and sucks in a big gulp of air like he can’t get the words out fast enough. “Normally when she gets upset, she just does everything faster and louder until she burns off whatever it is. But this time she’s—something’s really wrong.”
“And you're telling me because…?” Garcia wants to know, wants to hear him say it.
“You spend the most time with her,” he reasons. “And I know you’re not—y’know—exchanging life stories,” Whitaker acknowledges awkwardly, “but I thought you might… like, maybe she’s told you something, or—?”
“She hasn’t,” Garcia interrupts, crossing her arms and setting her posture. “We’re just sleeping together. Your roommate’s nervous breakdown, your problem.”
Now Whitaker looks properly pissed, which Garcia didn’t even know his little cherub face was capable of.
(A Santos character study within a Garcia character study.)
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It’s one of those things—words, phrases, insults, sometimes even compliments—that sticks with Trinity, even though it shouldn’t. Lodges itself somewhere in the gaps of her ribcage, so with each step she can feel it there under skin, flesh and digging through bone. It grooves into the recesses of her mind, it gets caught in her throat, she can taste those words just on the tip of her tongue and she really fucking hates it.
Much like everything else her stupid brain clings to (it’s a trauma response, she knows that, she’s a doctor, but calling her brain stupid is easier than really facing the problem) it sticks.
Trouble, trouble, trouble.
Or: Trinity Santos learns to let her guard down, just a little bit.
Bookmarked by quartzfish
09 Apr 2026