Work Text:
It wasn’t until he was standing there, watching Robby lean over the edge of the roof to peer at the street below, that Jack realized he could have been one of them. That this day could have realistically ended with Robby lying on a bed in the children’s room, sheet drawn over his body.
Robby was meant to be at PittFest.
He was meant to be in the line of fire.
That girl he tried to save — Leah, his brain supplied quietly, Jake’s girlfriend — the one he spent four bags of blood and countless minutes trying to resuscitate, that could have been Robby. Their Robby. His Robby.
And who knew how many bags of blood Jack would have used on him then. Four, eight, he would have opened a direct line from his vein to Robby’s right then and there if it meant bringing him back. He would have crawled into Robby’s chest and forced his heart to start with pure desperation. Jack knew what it meant to lose friends, to lose colleagues, to lose the people who the world needed.
Except he didn’t care about the world.
It was Jack who needed Robby.
Because the moon couldn’t rightfully exist without the sun.
Robby — bright, generous, caring, beautiful Robby — who took every death into his heart and let himself burn with the guilt, was the center of everything. He was the fixed point that held Jack steady and pulled him back around each day, each month, each year, keeping him in a safe, content orbit.
Or at least he was meant to be.
This Robby, the one who looked over the edge like there was something promising down below was unmoored, his anchor cracked in half leaving him floating at sea alone. It destroyed a piece of Jack’s own soul to watch it, to stand there in the dark doorway and realize my friend, my brother, my person is struggling.
But there was nothing that Jack wouldn’t do to bring him back to life.
Jack stepped closer, shoving his hands into his pockets, ignoring the slight tremble in his own body as he stopped just a few feet away from Robby. At this angle, he should see the sharp pinch in the corner of his eyes and the way his head curved forward, like he could barely stand to hold it up.
“You’re in my spot,” Jack finally said, surprised by the clarity of his own voice. The words felt tight in his chest, like they were gripping his heart with claws and teeth. “Just so you know GrubHub will not deliver to the roof,” he added, “But there is a DoorDash guy — Marco — who will trek up here for an extra ten bucks, twenty if you want beer.”
Robby didn’t answer, didn’t even laugh, and Jack swore he saw tears on his cheeks.
Don’t cry, he wanted to say. Don’t let this break you.
“Nice speech down there,” he settled on, wanting nothing more than to grab Robby around the waist and forcibly pull him back from the ledge. “Wish I had given it.”
No you don’t, Jack’s mind added at the same time Robby said, “No you don’t.”
It almost made Jack laugh, but there was no real humor in the moment. “No, fuck no. But I’m glad somebody did.” Leaning forward, Jack tried to peer around to meet Robby’s eyes, but he pointedly refused, continuing to stare out into the night sky like it held all the answers. Jack felt a discernible tension radiating off him, the agitation and pent-up frustration boiling inside of him, visible in the small shifting of his weight and how he rolled back his shoulders. “Yea,” Jack whispered, pulling back, resting his forearms on the railing.
He couldn’t risk cornering him. He couldn’t risk making this worse. Robby was only two steps away from the edge, two steps away from shattering both of them. Jack didn’t think Robby would do it, he didn’t think Robby had any intention of taking that leap, but even the simple concept was untenable.
“I think I finally understand why I keep coming back now,” Jack said, this time the words coming out tight as he tried to fill the emptiness between them with something. “It’s in our DNA. It’s what we do. We can’t help it. We’re the—” Keep talking, Jack thought. If he kept talking, Robby would stay here. He would listen. Because he always listened to Jack. On the good days, on the bad days, even when Jack spoke with his body and not words, Robby listened. “We’re the bees that protect the hive.”
And now I’m trying to protect you, Jack wanted to add, I want to protect you because you’re mine. You’ve always been and always will be mine.
Robby let out a soft noise, like he wanted to laugh but couldn’t. When he shook his head, the sadness and despair seemed to spill over and Jack saw the tears glistening in his eyes. Jacked wrapped his hand around the railing, gripping it tightly, trying to stop himself from reaching out and wiping them away.
“Maybe you, but not me,” Robby finally whispered, voice cracking as he shook his head even harder. His body shifted and for a split second, Jack’s hand released the railing, his heart plummeting, like his entire chest was empty, devoid of everything but empty space between his ribs.
He felt suddenly cold.
“What are you talking about?” The words came out harsher and firmer than Jack intended, almost accusatory in their tone, but it broke something in him to hear Robby talk about himself like that.
He does’t understand, Jack realized numbly, moving closer almost unconsciously.
“You know damn well what I’m talk—” Robby was choking on his words, barely able to make himself speak. If Jack thought his heart was shattered earlier, it was nothing compared to that moment. This time he couldn’t stop himself, reaching out his hand to wrap it around Robby’s upper-arm, holding is bicep firmly, like he was trying to drag him back to this reality, where Robby was certainly flawed — they all were, Jack would argue — but he was also flawless in the same breath. “—I’m talking about. I broke.” Robby managed to finish his sentence, his voice sounding squeezed, like his body was forcing him to expel those words.
“You didn’t break,” Jack said, tightening the hand on his arm when he saw Robby nodding, his eyes clenched together. “You didn’t fucking break, Robby,” Jack repeated, this time using his grip on the arm to pull Robby closer.
Three steps from the ledge now, his mind whispered.
Robby, gratefully, didn’t try to break away from Jack’s grip, even as he shuffled from foot to foot anxiously. “I shut down,” he continued, throat bobbing with each syllable. “At the moment everybody needed me the most, I wasn’t there. I couldn’t do it. I choked.”
“For what, 40 seconds?” It came out incredulous. Jack couldn’t believe they were actually having this discussion. After this morning. After this afternoon. After four years ago. After everything, that Robby was actually trying to argue that he let them all down. “Three minutes?” Jack continued, voice getting firmer, more defensive. “Ten minutes?” Jack pulled Robby’s arm again and this time it worked — Robby spun around, facing him at the railing, his body hunched forward like he wanted to cave in on himself.
“So fucking what?” Jack countered, letting his hand fall away in favor of stepping closer, so their bodies were angled toward each other. “We all have that. That is what happens when you’re in a war and nothing makes sense.”
Robby leaned forward, head in his hands, shoulders shaking.
“Robby,” Jack said, the sharpness softening in his voice as he placed a hand on his shoulder. He left it there a brief second before sliding it closer to his face, until it was cupping Robby’s hand. “Robby,” Jack breathed, finessing his fingers between Robby’s, like he was trying to hold his hand. He used the leverage, however, to pull the hand away from his face so Jack could replace it with his own.
When Robby leaned into his touch, his other hand dropping away to rest on the railing, Jack felt the unmistakable sting of tears in his own eyes.
“I failed them,” Robby whispered, a confession spoken into the darkness, his eyes clenched together even as the tears continued to slowly roll down his cheeks.
“You didn’t fail anyone.”
“I failed Jake.”
“Robby,” Jack repeated once more. “Michael,” he added, this time firmer, shifting forward so that he was standing directly in front of him. “Look at me.”
Robby shook his head, making a soft scratching noise at the back of his throat.
Lifting his other hand, Jack pressed it to Robby’s other cheek, cupping his face gently, protectively. Ever so slowly, he tilted his face back, wishing he could kneel down in front of him and be closer to eye-level. “You failed nobody,” Jack whispered, sweeping both thumbs across Robby’s cheeks. Only then did Robby open his eyes, staring at Jack with blood-shot, tear-soaked eyes. “Jake will realize that,” Jack added. “He’s mourning. It’s a process, we know this.”
Robby’s eyes fluttered closed again. “It sh-should have been me.”
“No,” Jack said, the single word filled with a quiet rage at hearing his own thoughts come out of Robby’s mouth. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say that to me.”
“It’s true,” Robby choked out, shaking his head like he was trying to dislodge Jack’s hands. He held firm, though, sliding his fingers back into Robby’s hair. “Jake lost his girlfriend because I gave her my ticket. That young girl had her entire life ahead of her—” Robby pulled back, both of Jack’s hands dropping away. “They all did. All of them. The gi-girl who saved her sister. The b-boy, the fentanyl, fuck,” Robby spun around, facing the ledge, shoulders hunched.
Jack wasn’t breathing.
“None of them should have died. None of them.” Robby practically spit out the words, like his anger at the universe could bring them back to life.
“I know,” Jack managed to get out. He slipped through the railing without thinking, standing upright on the other side, angling his body in front of Robby’s out of sheer fear. “This world is fucked up,” Jack continued, hands hovering in front of him, fingers twitching. “This world is fucked up and people die, Robby. But of all the things I know to be true, I know you did everything to save them.”
Robby was shaking his head again, like that was an actual answer.
“Stop,” Jack said, stepping closer, their bodies pressed together as his hands returned to cup Robby’s face. This time he was gentler, holding him like a precious piece of porcelain that was about to shatter. Robby sucked in a deep breath and looked into his eyes, unblinking even as the tears continued. “You can’t do this to yourself. I won’t let you do this to yourself. You can’t save everyone, do you hear me?” Jack pulled him closer, their hips flush together as they breathed the same air together. “You can’t save everyone and you’re going to kill yourself if you try.”
Robby’s eyes flicked away from Jack’s face, looking over his shoulder at the edge of the roof.
“Bad manners to jump on someone else’s shift,” Jack whispered, not even trying to hide the anguish in his voice this time.
“It’s not your shift,” Robby said back, equally soft, as his eyes returned to Jack’s face.
“Doesn’t fucking matter, I’m still here.” Jack swept a hand back through Robby’s hair, then pulled him into his arms, holding him tight enough that his arms ached. Robby melted into him, though, his face tucked up against the crook of his neck as he shuddered through an exhale. “Do you know what I would do to save you?” Jack asked, his hand on Robby’s lower back slipping beneath his jacket and scrubs to rest agains this warm skin.
“Yes,” Robby whispered, his own arms tightening around Jack, his lips touching his neck while he spoke. “I do.”
“You’re the heart of the Pitt, day in and day out,” Jack said, feeling like he was finally on solid ground for the first time since walking out onto the roof. And you’re my heart, too, he wanted to add. Robby seemed to understand though, as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of Jack’s neck. “How about a drink?”
That earned him a choked laugh that seemed to blossom in Jack’s chest, that emptiness from earlier filling in with the warmth and solidness of having Robby in his arms.
“Think I might need more than one,” Robby countered, making no move to pull away.
“Day shift was heading to the parking lot with a pack of cheap beer,” Jack said, rubbing the pads of his fingers along the edge of Robby’s pants, appreciating the way he sighed in response. “Or I’ve got an expensive bottle of scotch at my place.”
“When do you have to be back?” Robby asked, always thinking ahead, always thinking about them and not himself.
“Robby,” Jack said, not even bothering to answer the question as he pulled far enough away to look into his eyes again. “Come home with me.”
He blinked, swallowing thickly as the tears dried on his cheeks, eyelashes clumped together. “Okay,” Robby finally said, nodding again, this time with finality. “Let’s go home.”