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It’s not where you come from, it’s where you belong.
The tires squealed as the car came to a stop. Trinity could feel her heartbeat get quicker. It wasn’t her first time in a foster home, but every time brought the feeling of walking into a viper's den.
Or: Trinity moves into a new foster home, the two dads: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch and Jack Abbot.
Bookmarked by icarusaurus
18 Feb 2026
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Trinity Santos and Dennis Whitaker were far more similar than anyone could have possible have ever imagined. When old acquaintances meet once again at their new job, memories resurface from a time that was wanted, no needed to have been forgotten about. What happens when two people who went through the same trauma become roommates once again?
Or alternatively, an AU where Trinity and Dennis had met each other at a Troubled Teens camp far before PTMC, and far before college.
Bookmarked by icarusaurus
17 Feb 2026
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“Pupils are responsive,” Al-Hashimi offers quietly, “but tachycardia and clammy skin suggest—”
“Exhaustion,” Garcia finishes for her, then Santos feels two familiar hands scoop up one of her own and begin to gently massage her fingers and palm. “Trinity, if you can feel me, squeeze my hand.”
Santos swears it takes about as long as her commute to work, but she manages to find her shoulder and then her elbow and then her wrist and then the part of her that Garcia’s holding, and somehow convinces her fingers to curl slowly inward.
There’s an audible sigh of relief alongside the continued warmth enveloping her knuckles.
“Give me twenty minutes,” Garcia says, then leans down close enough that Santos can feel hot breath around her ear. “I’m gonna bring you somewhere quiet, okay?”
Bookmarked by icarusaurus
15 Feb 2026
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trinity santos can't take care of herself but don't worry guys yolanda garcia is on the case
Bookmarked by icarusaurus
15 Feb 2026
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“The patient came in with a laceration on the bottom of her foot,” Santos said as they walked. “Not deep enough for nerve damage and a nice straight line, perfect teaching case.”
“That you picked me for?” Joy couldn’t help the skepticism in her tone. She had very rarely been pulled individually into a case once since her rotation had started.
Santos looked at her impassively, “I mean, I can do it myself if you’d rather go back to farm boy and slenderman.”
“Please, no,” Joy said quickly and Santos snorted.
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Apartment 112, the number written on the wooden door in chipped golden letters. Her cousin once pointed out the humor of a doctor living in an apartment numbered with one of the world’s most common emergency phone numbers, and Trinity still doesn’t find it funny when Whitaker mentions it.
Or, seven months, one apartment, and a group of emergency medicine co-workers as they become friends.
Bookmarked by icarusaurus
28 Jan 2026
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Trinity thinks that might be the end of it, and she turns her head—ready to mutter out a goodnight, go collapse in bed, contemplate the terrible decision that landed her in this awkward predicament.
A terrible decision she’d make all over again.
Fucking damn it…
Series
Bookmarked by icarusaurus
19 Jan 2026
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Trinity learned three things very well at a too-young age.
These things were drilled into her so hard it nearly killed her.
And one day they very nearly do.
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Langdon’s first few weeks back at PTMC suck and he’s pretty sure he knows who’s to blame: Trinity Santos.
Series
- Part 20 of open wounds
- Part 19 of open wounds advent calendar
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“I usually have pretty good judgment,” Garcia continues. “I stay calm, I think clearly, and I make logical choices. But when you came to me with extremely reasonable concerns about someone I’ve worked with for a long time, I snapped at you and shut you down. You deserved patience, and advice, and respect,” Garcia admits, “and I’m sorry.”
Trinity takes a moment to digest all of this, then nods a little, then takes a half-step closer as a sign of trust or whatever. “Thank you,” she says quietly and finds Garcia’s eyes. “I really… I appreciate all of that. Thank you.”
She watches Garcia’s posture relax slightly, then watches Garcia take her own small step forward, then watches Garcia’s expression shift into something that makes Trinity’s breath catch.
“Can I make it up to you with a cocktail?”
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(What happens on July 4th, and what happened in the ten months before that.)
Series
- Part 2 of Whumptos
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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.
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Later, they’ll say it was shock. That’s why she didn’t react. They’ll call it a freak accident—bad luck on a difficult skill. The doctors will exchange careful looks when she asks how soon she can get back on the mat.
She’ll nod along. She’ll play her part.
But she’ll know the truth.
It wasn’t shock. It wasn’t an accident. She had prepared for the pain. She had made the choice.
And when the doctors tell her they can’t be sure if—or when—she’ll return to gymnastics, the breath she lets out isn’t from disappointment.
It’s from relief.—or: Trinity learns how to accept help after by fucking a lot of other stuff up
Series
- Part 1 of i keep myself standing in your flames.
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Trinity has a rare allergic disorder. Dennis needs a place to live. She may have forgotten to tell him that these things mean that he’ll be running an ER every other Tuesday in their living room, though.
(Or: Trinity has systemic mastocytosis, Dennis has wet cat energy, and somehow it all works out better than they had both hoped.)
Series
- Part 2 of shadows settle
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if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones by choosingthesun
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
11 Jul 2025
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Trinity was five hours, one bathroom break, and two granola bars into her shift when her throat had started to swell shut.
It could have been the granola, or the exhaustion from switching to nights, or the pungent smell of marijuana that had been emanating from the last patient that was brought in, but heat was beginning to rise in her face and neck and her throat had just started to itch, which meant she only had so long before she needed medication or she was going to slowly go into anaphylactic shock and die in the middle of the Pitt. And that wasn’t ideal.
(Or: Trinity has a mast cell disease. She fears what might happen if she lets anyone in, but her coworkers aren’t afraid to help.)
Series
- Part 1 of shadows settle
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Summary
Things have been good, lately.
Trinity has been good. She likes going to work—likes the thrill of particularly difficult cases, likes the easy back-and-forth she’s starting to build with her coworkers, even likes arguing with Langdon. She likes her little apartment and she likes that she gets to share it with Dennis. (It’s way cleaner, now, and she eats real food half the time. And she has something to do in the evenings other than think about everything she’s lost).
Things have been good.
She should’ve fucking known what would happen if she let her guard down.
~~~
Trinity is cornered on her way home from work. She gets out of it with a stab wound and a whole new wave of old trauma. (And of course, her least favorite coworker is the only one there to talk her down.)
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Trinity recognized something of herself in Dennis. She wanted to reach out and touch it.
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Santos and Whitaker have been living together for a month and finally have some proper downtime together. When Trinity asks Dennis about his time being homeless, something in his answer catches her off guard. Cue some introspection and vulnerability Dennis (and Trinity) had not prepared for.
TL;DR: Codependent roommates trauma bond over shitty hook-ups, ft. pasta, bad TV, and hugs.
Effectively a standalone story, but it takes place about a month after the events part one (Further to Fly)
Series
- Part 2 of The War Between the Water and the Bridge
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six times throughout the beginning (first year or so) of their relationship where Trinity lets Samira in and allows her to see the darkest parts of her.
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She didn’t catch it before, and she lost someone she loved. Santos would have to live with that guilt for the rest of her life. No way in hell would she let it happen twice.
Abbot glanced at her again, and this time Santos stared him down.
Good fucking luck with that, asshole.
He was trapped on this bitch of an earth just like the rest of them. Trinity was going to make damn sure of it.
...
When Santos becomes convinced that Abbot has moved from passively suicidal to active suicide risk, she takes matters into her own hands. She refuses to see another friend die.
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Wordlessly, Dennis opens his arms to her. She falls forward, leaving her forehead to rest against his shoulder. They don’t hug. They never really do. But for them, this is enough: Trinity’s breathing evening out as the silence stretches out between them, Dennis looping one arm around her shoulders and patting her head gently. It’s a comfortable dance they do around their pasts, of memories they’d prefer to only allude to. Dennis thinks of it less of avoidance, but more of leaving things in the past in favour of making brighter futures, of living days that aren’t entwined with the existences of their ghosts. Maybe one of his brothers would call him unrealistic. Maybe they’d say that all roads eventually lead back to Broken Bow. Dennis has dreams of being a dreamer, though.
Dennis comes back from a night shift to find Trinity crying in her room. He's still not entirely sure on how to approach the whole comforting people when they're crying thing, but he'd like to think that he's doing the best he can.
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Summary
A series of fics following Trinity Santos as past trauma resurfaces and the people around her begin to notice she’s not coping as well as she pretends. Can be read individually, but best understood as a trilogy.
- Words:
- 45,786
- Works:
- 3
- Bookmarks:
- 59