Work Text:
Now
“So what’re your plans for the holiday, hon?” Dana asked, leaning against the nurses station, iPad tucked under her arm. There was a pencil tucked into her hair, holding it back off her visibly exhausted face. While her eyes were fixed on Robby, who was staring up at the board with squinted eyes and his arms crossed, Jack was only a few feet away, half-listening to the scanner in a single earbud as he waited for handover to begin.
“Holiday?” Robby repeated, finally glancing down, eyebrows arched.
Hearing Robby’s voice forcibly yanked Jack’s attention toward them, his head swiveling around automatically, like there was a physical string tied between them, a push-and-pull of their bodies as they danced around the Pitt.
“Fourth of July,” Dana continued, glancing behind her at Princess with a look of exasperation. “Robby, do you even know what day of the week it is?”
“It’s Tuesday,” Robby said, lips pressed together into a thin line as he shook his head. “And I’m not exactly sure, probably a cold beer and a grill.” He said it flippantly, even going so far as to shrug his left shoulder before reaching over the desk to grab his an iPad off the charger, like what he’d just said was nothing. Like he wasn’t fully aware that Jack was standing right there listening to them.
Jack couldn’t breathe.
His entire body went rigid, the voice on the scanner continuing to mumble things into his ear like a distant, unidentifiable buzzing as he stood there staring endlessly at Robby, waiting for him to wave of Dana and say I’m working, of course like the joke this was meant to be.
“Sounds like you need to make some plans,” Dana said. “We’ve got a barbecue going on at the park, you’re invited if you’d like too come.” When Princess made a scratching, derisive noise behind her, Dana spun around and smiled. “Ya’ll are invited, but you knew that already.”
“Thanks, Dana,” Robby said, the corners of his own mouth curving up into what could almost be described as a smile. Jack felt raw, like Robby had just carved out his heart and placed it on the nurse’s station for all to see. “Might swing by, we’ll see.”
“Robby—” Jack said, pulling the earbud out of his ear, his arm falling down to his side with a dull thud.
✦✦✦
Then
Robby was standing at the nurses station when Jack arrived at the hospital, the police scanner blasting through his headphones, muting the inevitable chaos of the Pitt during the evening handover. Ten car pile-up headed to Pittsburgh Presbyterian. Civil disturbance near Duquesne. Armed robbery by the arena. And a pedestrian collision close to them that would arrive in less than ten minutes.
It was Jack’s version of how other people watched the weather. It gave him the lay of the land. Do I need an umbrella someone might ask, while he asked Do I need to ask Robby to stay longer?
Approaching the counter on Robby’s right, Jack pulled the headphones off his head, leaving them dangling around his neck as the scanner continued to crackle softly. Dana glanced at him with a faint, almost-knowing smile, while Robby was clearly too invested in whatever chart he was reading to look-up and notice there was a person standing beside him.
He was wearing his glasses, Jack noted, carefully observing the way they slipped further down his nose the longer he looked down. Jack’s fingers twitched against his leg, begging for the chance to reach out and push them back up.
Glasses weren’t meant to look that good.
Jack also wasn’t meant to be admiring his fellow physician.
“You got holiday plans, Dr. Abbott?” Dana asked, holding a clipboard to her chest. This time her smile was wicked, like she knew precisely what was going through Jack’s head.
At her question, however, Robby finally lifted his head, glancing left, then right, before his eyes finally settled on Jack’s face. His smile was barely-there, undoubtedly worn down after twelve-hours in the Pitt, but undeniably warm, like seeing Jack was enjoyable. When the corners of his eyes crinkled, Jack’s breath hitched.
It wasn’t too long ago they were eager, foolhardy residents, so eager to compete with each other for what they thought was a limited supply of experience.
Now it was Jack staring at Robby with the unmistakable and haunting realization that this man — the obstinate, amazing doctor — had found a way past every inch of Jack’s defenses and managed to worm his way directly into the center of his heart.
Life changed fast.
“Double shift,” Jack said, leaning an elbow on the counter, forcibly pulling his attention away from Robby to offer Dana a small, crooked smile.
“What?” Robby said, continuing to stare at the side of Jack’s face. “How did you draw that short straw?”
Jack tilted his head, daring a quick glance at Robby’s eyes before looking back at Dana. “Volunteered for it.”
“You’re off, Robby?” Dana asked, her tone almost amused.
“The whole weekend,” Robby mumbled, pushing away from the counter to stand straight, abandoning the chart in favor of crossing his arms. “But I can come in, you shouldn’t be working a double over a holiday.”
“Fairly certain you know what the word volunteer means,” Jack tossed out, twisting around so he was facing Robby now, fully intent on enabling none of this self-inflicted guilty trip he was concocting in his own head. “We’ve got it managed, just like we do every year for every holiday. Rest-up, Dr. Rabinovich.”
“That’s not even remotely close—” Robby began to say, stepping closer to Jack just in time for a crisp, clear voice to cut between them, coming straight from Jack’s headphones.
“10-57 on First Ave.”
Robby stopped, reeling awkward slightly, looking at the headphones like they were haunted.
“Victim critical, headed to PTMC.”
✦✦✦
Now
To his credit, Robby seemed remorseful when he turned to face Jack, his face drawn, eyes earnest, as he reached out to try and place a hand on his forearm.
It wasn’t enough, but it was certainly something.
Jack still pulled away, stepping just far enough back that Robby stopped advancing.
“Gloria,” Robby said, lifting his arm again and letting it fall back against his side. “I can talk to her,” he continued, speaking fast enough the words started to blend together. There was a thread of panic in his voice, like he knew precisely how tenuous this conversation was between them. “I will talk to her,” he amended even faster, reaching out again only to stop with his arm outstretched, only inches from Jack’s arm.
Neither of them closed the gap.
Then gain, Jack didn’t pull further away, either.
This was unfair. This was so wildly unfair that Jack didn’t even know how to react. The initial burst of anger was gone, replaced with something far more dangerous: fear. It choked him, clawing at his throat until he found it difficult to even breathe. How could he say no, absolutely not right here, in the center of the universe, with all eyes on them.
It was Mel who ended up speaking first, sliding right into the awkward silence with no actual understanding of what she was wading into. “You deserve the rest, Dr. Robby,” she said, with a sincerity that settled heavily in Jack’s stomach, like a lead balloon dragging him further under water. “You always tell us days off are as critical as our days on.”
And fuck if she wasn’t right, Jack thought.
They were all masters of burning the candle at both ends, of ignoring the subtle ache behind their eyes while their mind desperately yearned for sleep, of forcing their bodies to keep moving when every muscle seemed to ache. Standing right in front of him, Robby was the perfect depiction of worn-down — dark circles, hollowed cheeks, a beard that could use a little extra care in the mirror. He was a single threadbare string waiting to snap.
Collins was watching him, her gaze boring directly into the side of his face, like she could see straight through into his very soul. He felt cornered, not through any fault of theirs, but by his on brain, by his own memories. There was no other option. This was happening. Robby was taking the 4th of July as a holiday while he sat in the Pitt waiting.
And hoping.
“Jack—” Robby began to say, but Jack was already waving him off, spinning away from the nurse’s station, unclear of where his legs planned to take him but grateful for the chance to be anywhere else.
“You deserve the holiday,” Jack called back to him, not turning around. “Go eat a hamburger for me.”
✦✦✦
Then
“You’re listening to a police scanner?” Dana asked, glancing between the headphones and Jack’s eyes. Robby, meanwhile, was only frowning, staring at the headphones like he was disappointed in the voice still crackling through them. “Don’t you ever take a break Dr. Abbott?” Dana continued, sighing softly — almost fondly — before shaking her head.
If possible, Robby’s frown deepened, his eye narrowing as he offered Jack a severe, pointed look. “Dr. Abbott seems hellbent on working himself into an early grave.”
And if that wasn’t just the pot calling the kettle black.
Reaching down, Jack yanked out the headphones, silencing the police scanner with a crisp twang of static. “I like to know what I’m walking into,” Jack said, crossing his arms to match Robby’s body-language. “Gunshot wound inbound, probably ten minutes out from 1st Avenue.”
“We’re aware.” Robby’s tone was dry, bordering on sarcastic. “Weren’t you suppose to try and step away during your off hours?”
The look Jack laid on Robby said hypocrite.
As if Robby didn’t think about work constantly. As if Robby wasn’t prone to checking in on the department after he’d left for the day. As if he hadn’t been tempted to come back in two nights ago when the new intern worked a night-shift after losing their first patient.
“Whose working their off hours?” Fitz, the head night-nurse, asked as he approached the stations, grasping five clipboards held together in his hand.
“Dr. Abbott,” Dana said cheerfully, smiling knowingly as she grabbed the clipboards and began to return them to their spot along the edge of the station.
Jack opened his mouth to respond, to end his discussion now before the rest of the staff decided to have an opinion on his off-duty choices, but Robby was already speaking before he could get a single word out.
“What if you took a week off?” Robby asked, sarcasm making way for hopefulness in his tone.
Jack stared at him, blinking once, twice, before a laugh bubbled up out of his chest. The concept of a week off was comical. Not only was there no way to adjust the schedule this last minute, not with the holiday approaching at the very least, but because what the fuck would Jack do with a week off?
“No, no,” Robby continued, shaking his head as he took a step closer. “Not like that. A week off from the scanner. Let your brain actually rest for once in your life.”
Dana hummed softly behind Robby and Fitz was now leaning against the counter, listening intently.
“Take a week off or I’m going to come help during your double,” Robby countered, like this was a negotiation where he could raise the stakes.
“And I’ll just have security kick you out.” Jack pulled off his headphones, holding them in his hand, the cord dangling by his side. Robby tilted his head, eyes softening, as if to say I know you wouldn’t do that.
Everything in him wanted to say no.
The scanner was a lullaby to him now, soothing in the most perverted and fucked up ways. It calmed him before his shifts. It made him feel in-control, like there was somehow a limit to how hurtful the world might end up that day, like there was a stopper on the pain he might see come through those double-doors.
If he didn’t listen, it was like saying the world do your worst.
But Jack didn’t say that out loud — he couldn’t say that out loud — not when Robby was watching him with those sad, sad eyes, filled with the unspoken understanding that this job tried to chew you up and spit you back out day after day.
So he swallowed down the bubble of nerves, tempering the burst of unease with a deep breath. “Fine,” he said, shoving the headphones into his duffel bag. “Easy enough,” he added, like saying it out loud would make it more believable.
It was almost worth lying to himself just to see Robby smile.
✦✦✦
Now
They didn’t talk about it.
Even Jack could admit it wasn’t healthy.
But this was them. Had been them for awhile now. When you only saw your partner — your person — a few spare minutes a day, perhaps slightly longer if their days off coincided, it was near impossible to convince yourself to bring up the thing. Whatever the thing was that week.
And this week, it was the 4th of July.
This wasn’t the first holiday they would spend apart. New Years, Valentines Day, Hanukkah, Passover, Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving — all of them needed staffing. All of them required a senior attending physician. If Jack was given a holiday, it was almost always at the cost of Robby working. Or if Robby managed to earn a little rest and recovery, it was because Jack pulled a double. Sometimes Jack wondered what Gloria would do if they even tried to request the same holiday off together.
Except this was what both of them expected, what they signed up for when they joined the Pitt, when they decided to try to make this relationship between them work. Two doctors with opposite shifts — they were doomed from the start.
So no, Jack didn’t bring it up, even when he wanted to. Even when he crawled into bed and stared at the curve of Robby’s shoulders under the blankets, watching them rise and fall, and realized this dread — this anxiety, as his therapist would say — wasn’t going to go away by shoving his feelings under the metaphorical-fucking-rug.
Mel was right, though. No matter how many ways he flipped over the problem in his head, he came back to the same conclusion: Robby needed this weekend off. There were days where both of them looked and felt like too-little butter scraped across too-much bread, but Robby was bordering on a ghost-like. Dark shadows under his eyes that never seemed to fully leave. That momentary disassociation when he walked through their front-door and seemed incapable of doing anything else but stare at the wall in silence. Robby was running on empty and it was cruel of Jack to even consider asking him to forego his well-deserve rest out of anxiety.
Jack savored their few quiet moments together instead. Sitting on the roof, hands clasped between them secretly as they watched the sun set behind the Pittsburg skyline. A quick kiss in the stairwell durning handover, when everyone else was too busy to notice. Climbing into bed while Robby slept, curling behind him like they had hours rather than minutes before the next alarm went off. It was both of them arriving a few minutes early to their shifts, if only for a few prolonged seconds where they could simply be awake together.
Jack didn’t want to lose those moments, not when the other option was talking about the thing.
But then, almost in the blink of an eye, it was the 4th.
✦✦✦
Then
Not listening to the scanner was both better and worse than Jack imagined.
The first few days he felt a bit blind walking into the department, like he would walk into a mass-casualty situation and have no forewarning. But that didn’t happen. Nothing like that happened. Jack arrived every evening and Robby took him around to do a thorough hand-off just like he had ever night prior and Jack didn’t suffer for it.
If anything, it helped. It pained Jack to admit it, but distancing himself from work when he wasn’t physically in the ED meant he was more rested, more focused, more present, more ready to help their patients. When they did handovers, his mind was attuned to every factor, not thinking about their next arrival or the incident across town.
Not that he told Robby, of course but every now and then he caught him smiling during handover, a secretive, somewhat suppressed smile, that made it quite clear Robby understood what Jack would’t say out loud. It was as close to l told you so as either of them would rightfully get.
Jack let him have it.
And if that didn’t tell him how deep he’d fallen into this Robby-shaped-hole, Jack didn’t know what else would.
“Are you still sure you don’t want me to come in for part of this double?” Robby asked as they headed toward the south-wing, two of the interns trailing behind them in a single-file line, like they were mother-ducks rather than doctors.
“Robby,” Jack said with enough exasperation that one of the nurses in the next room chuckled. “You’re going to go enjoy the 4th. Eat some fucking grilled meat or something. Do it in my honor.”
There was visible hesitation in Robby’s eyes, that sharp wrinkle settling between his eyebrows that Jack secretly wanted nothing more than to smooth with a kiss. This was why he loved Robby — why they all loved Robby — that selfless, almost irresponsible way he wanted to help everyone else before himself. In another world, it was commendable. But in their world, it was suicidal.
“Tell me about sixteen,” Jack said, gesturing at the curtain in front of them with the corner of his clipboard.
Robby didn’t immediately answer, continuing to stare at him with soft eyes that almost made Jack hope, until Sammy, their newest intern, cleared his throat and began to recite off the ailments of sixteen without taking a single breath.
Jack clenched his teeth together and swept toward to the intern, trying to grasp at his last few words while his mind continued to repeat Robby, Robby, Robby over and over again.
✦✦✦
Now
Jack normally loved handovers with Robby.
It was a few minutes out of an otherwise stressful, endless day where he was allowed to stand almost perilously close to Robby without a single person gossiping. It was a perfect opportunity for Jack to listen to the gentle inflection of Robby’s voice as he ran down the list of patients and criticized Gloria’s inability to open beds upstairs. It was their time, even if it was hospital time, too.
But today, there was nothing enjoy. It wasn’t the double-shift — though the impending dread of spending 24 hours locked in the hospital with an endless supply of idiots who attempted to set off their own fireworks was not high on Jack’s list of priorities — and it wasn’t Robby either.
At least not exactly.
“I can still stay,” Robby said when Princess pulled away from them, heading down the hallway double-time, yelling something at Perlah. “Catch a few hours of sleep in the staff room, be back at it before the first round of firework victims.”
Jack leaned against the wall with a sigh, tracing the curves of Robby’s face until he finally turned his focus on the iPad in his hands. “We’ve had this discussion,” he said, swiping through the screen without actually absorbing anything. “Go enjoy the holiday, Robby.”
“I know this is the first—” Robby began but Jack started shaking his head before his sentence was even complete.
“What’s going on with patient in 17?” Jack asked, tapping the screen. “Norepinephrine? Their pressures have been borderline stable, why not fluids?”
“Jack.” There was no humor in Robby’s voice, only concern. It felt like Robby had a hand wrapped around Jack’s neck and was squeezing with every word. “It’s okay to feel however you’re feeling. It’s okay to be worried.”
“Absolutely superb advice, Dr. Robinavitch,” Jack said, squeezing the edge of the iPad hard enough he wondered if Gloria would blame him if it broke.
“Jacky—”
Robby’s tone was worse than concerned this time — it was heartbroken, filled with sympathy that Jack adamantly did not want. “Fuck,” Jack hissed under his breath, reaching out to grab Robby’s arm, half-shoving him behind the curtain. The patient inside was unconscious, the only sound the beeping machines and their own breaths.
“I am a fully grown adult,” Jack snapped, releasing Robby’s arm and stepping backward. “When I say I’m fine, I’m fine. When I tell you to go, I don’t need you you standing there like I”m a child who doesn’t fucking know what he wants.” By the end, his voice was squeezed, coming out barely above a whisper.
Any other day — perhaps any other moment — Jack would have reacted to the way Robby recoiled, like he’d been physically struck by his words. But Jack was tired. He was tired and he was absolutely fucking fine.
And every time Robby made it seem like he wasn’t, Jack wanted to scream.
“Understood, Dr. Abbot,” Robby finally said, crossing his arms over his chest in a clear defensive maneuver. The small space between them felt endless, like a cavernous tomb where all their unspoken feelings were rotting. When Robby spun around and pushed through the curtain, Jack could only look up at the ceiling, bright fluorescent lights pulsing as he sighed.
“Fuck,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Nicely done, Abbot. Fucking fantastic.”
✦✦✦
Then
“It’s not too bad yet,” Sophia, one of their newest night nurses said, tapping the end of her pen against the table as she glanced around the perimeter of the hub.
“Don’t say that too soon,” Jack mumbled, voice too low to be heard as he adjusted his stethoscope around his neck and leaned against the counter.
Fitz laughed outright, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard before he said, “You’ve jinxed us now.”
“What type of accidents would even come through on the 4th?” Sophia asked, voice full of that naive incredulity that only disappeared with time.
This time Fitz looked up, shaking his head with an exasperated sigh. “Ever seen a limb shot off with a firework?”
“No,” Sophia said, her eyes darting first to Fitz, then to Jack, then back again, like she expected one of them to start laughing at the sheer notion. Jack only shook his head, reaching behind the counter to pick up a few of the clipboards that were stacked neatly, waiting for their next rounds.
“It’s going to be an exciting night for you, then,” Fitz said, his smile almost diabolical when Jack lifted his eyes quickly to look between them.
The 4th of July wasn’t the worst holiday to work, at least not in Jack’s opinion. Sure, they landed an almost egregious amount of grill-burns, and at least one or two firework mishaps, but it didn’t rightfully compare to the chaos of other holidays. Thanksgiving was Jack’s least favorite — he had a few choice words saved up for the idiot who first decided to deep-fry a turkey — followed closely by New Years Eve.
Next to those chaos of those nights, the 4th was barely even worth acknowledging.
“Why don’t you go get some rest,” Fitz said, rapping his knuckles on the counter in front of Jack. “Since Sophia decided to jinx us—”
“Hey—”
Fitz glowered at Sophia, then continued. “We’ll probably be slammed in an hour or two. You should take a break now. I’ll have Robinson do the next set of rounds.”
Jack hesitated, running his finger along the edge of the clipboard in his hands.
“Dr. Abbot,” Fitz said, shifting that glower to Jack, instead, looking highly unimpressed. “You’ve got another ten hours, take a damn nap.”
“You’re sound more like Dana everyday,” Jack said, lifting an eyebrow.
“And I’ll take that as a compliment,” Fitz said, tapping his pen against the clipboard. “Nap time.”
Jack could only shake his head and sigh, spinning the clipboard around and handing it back to Fitz. “I’ll only be an hour, wake me up if you need me sooner.”
Fitz simply waved him off, like there was no chance of that.
Sleeping at the Pitt wasn’t easily done. It took years of practice to somehow ignore the never-ending noise and the general commotion of the hospital and actually fall asleep — that or sheer exhaustion. Today, however, Jack felt only the slight prickle of fatigue behind his eyes, but not enough to drown out the constant echo of voices and beeping machines. Lying on the narrow, lumpy bed, staring up at the bunk above him, Jack couldn’t drown out the constant echo of voices and beeping machines.
There was a perverse part of him that wanted to put on the police scanner, to listen to the sweet, fucked-up lullaby that his mind craved. Jack even went so far as to pull out his headphones, laying them on his stomach and watching them rise and fall with each breath. He’d bet them a week, and even though nobody would be around to tattle on him, there was an honor-code to a bet.
“Fuck,” Jack said, turning onto his side and shoving the headphones back into his bag. He pulled half the pillow over his head and closed his eyes, beginning to count down from one-hundred. It was enough to lull him into a space somewhere between sleep and waking, but far enough into the dreamworld that he missed the sirens and the yelling, only jolting awake when there was a sharp, jarring bang against the staff room door.
✦✦✦
Now
The Pitt felt empty without Robby.
Which made absolutely no logical sense to Jack.
They never worked the same shift — barring the rare unprecedented event — so the way Jack couldn’t stop looking around every corner and curtain, like he expected Robby to step out into the hallway, a medical student or intern right behind him, was ridiculous. But he couldn’t stop, like his brain thought it was possible to a actually manifest him out of thin air.
It made Jack feel crazed.
“You waiting on a phone call, Dr. Abbot?” Perlah asked, leaning up against the counter beside him, the smile on her face bordering on gloating.
“No,” Jack said, shoving his cell-phone back into his pocket like he’d never been holding it to begin with.
“Tough working the holidays,” she added with a soft, knowing hum.
“Aren’t you off-shift?” Jack asked, turning sideways to face her directly, both eyebrows raised.
“Not for another hour.” Perlah spun away, heading around to the other side of the counter to deposit an iPad into the charger. “Just enough time to see if you actually make that phone call.”
“Not making a phone call,” Jack said, narrowing his eyes as he watched her bounce between the desks and then glance up at the board.
“Is this about Robby having the day off?” It was Princess this time, stepping up to the station with grin that made Jack audibly sigh.
“No,” Jack said at the same time Perlah said, “Yes.”
“Aren’t you off yet?” Jack asked Princess, yanking one of the iPads out of the charger and unlocking it with a few firm taps of his finger against the screen.
“Nope,” Princess said while Perlah laughed, the two of them continuing to speak in Tagalog.
“It’s not about Robby,” Jack mumbled to himself, scrolling through the iPad until he stopped on the blood-test results of their patient in room seven. Neither of them responded, if they even heard him, continuing to talk softly to each other, two peas-in-a-pod.
“Not much of a night,” Shen said, swinging up to Jack’s opposite side, his eyes fixed on the board above them, looking far too energized in the midst of a double-shift.
“Not yet,” Abbot said, his eyes barely registering a single word on the chart in front of him. “Fireworks will kick-off in a few hours, I’d hold off on any celebrations.”
Shen laughed and Jack shook his head. “Why don’t you take a rest first,” Shen said, nodding his head toward the staff-room off in the corner.
Jack stiffened.
“I’m fine,” Jack said, hating how it echoed his conversation with Robby earlier. “Go take a break,” he added quickly, trying to talk over the twisting in his stomach. “Order a Dunkin’.” It was meant as sarcastic, but Shen smiled and spun around with visible excitement.
“You want anything?” Shen asked, pausing a few steps away, phone already in his hand, undoubtedly already on some food-ordering app trying to put in his Dunkin’ drink.
“I’m actually good,” Jack said, barely tilting his head to look at Shen as he nodded, swiping and typing away on his phone. “You’ve got an hour unless something comes in.”
“You got it,” Shen said, eyes flicking up from his phone just long enough to meet Jack’s before he was back to ordering, heading toward the emergency department entrance with his nose buried in his phone.
Jack barely even realized he was reaching into his pocket before his phone was in the palm of his hand, screen illuminated, staring at his messages with a frown. There was nothing, not from Robby, not from his sister, nobody. it was a good thing, he reminded himself. They were off enjoying the holiday and not thinking about him left to fester in the Pitt.
“You could call him,” Perlah said, stopping directly in front of Jack, her gaze piercing, if not slightly judgmental.
“He’s at Dana’s,” Jack argued, still holding his phone.
“Barbecue isn't set too start for another hour or two. Good try, though, Dr. Abbot.”
Jack lifted his eyes and stared at Perlah, who smiled. “I’m going to check on patient in ten,” he said, tucking the iPad under his arm and turning away, ignoring the prickle on the back of his neck as she undoubtedly tracked him until he disappeared around the corner. The hallway was empty, the curtains drawn closed, affording Jack the misplaced feeling of privacy as he pulled out his phone once again. This time, he didn’t hesitate before unlocking it and tapping his messages. His conversation with Robby was still at the top making it easy for him to tap his contact picture — taken just over a year ago on a road-trip back to Chicago — and hit call.
Lifting the phone to his ear, he leaned back against the wall, glancing up and down the hallway like he expected Perlah to come try and find him. It remained deserted, though, even as the familiar sound of Robby’s voice lilted out of the speaker.
”You’ve reached Michael Robinavitch, if this is an emergency, please—”
Jack hung up, closing his eyes and knocking his head back against the wall. He didn’t appreciate the way his stomach felt acidic, like he might vomit up bile any second. “Snap out of it,” he whispered to himself, digging the dull edge of his fingernails into his palm. “Everything’s fine, he’s fine. It’s fine.”
Except to Jack, it definitely didn’t feel fine.
✦✦✦
Then
Jack woke with a gasp.
“Dr. Abbot,” he heard being shouted, followed by more pounding on the door before the handle turned downward and Fitz burst into the staff room, his eyes wide and undeniably panicked. His chest was heaving up and down, as if he was trying to catch his breath. “You’ve got to get out here.” He sucked in a deep breath, his whole body shuddering when he exhaled.
It was the last moment of peace Jack truly knew.
“It’s Dr. Robby,” Fitz continued, shoving the door wider.
Jack went cold.
It was like Fitz had injected an icicle down his spine. The goosebumps were instantaneous, shooting down his arms and legs until he physically shivered. Catapulting off the small bed, he was pushing past Fitz and into the hallway without another word, racing down the hallway and straight into the chaos.
“Tell me everything,” Jack snapped as he swept up next to the bed, the nurses parting to make space for him.
He almost wished they hadn’t.
"Thirty-eight-year-old male, high-speed MVC,” Jenn, one of their new residents, began to recite, like they didn’t know who this was. Like this wasn’t their Robby.
Jack felt sick.
His stomach twisted and clenched as he stared down at a barely-conscious Robby, his eyes blinking heavily, disengaged from everything happening around them. They’d already started cutting off his clothes, his heart-rate and blood-pressure beeping on the machines behind them.
"Driver’s side impact—” Jenn continued while one of the nurses began to get out the intubation tube. “He was impaled by a section of guardrail or frame support through left abdomen. Not intubated—GCS 7 on scene, borderline. RR 10 and shallow. Heart rate 142, BP’s 82 over 48 and dropping. FAST positive. Pelvis unstable. Pupils sluggish.”
Robby was trying to talk, blood pooling in his mouth. Their eyes met and there was a flash of recognition, like a flare going off in the back of Robby’s mind that said I know you.
Jack thought he might actually vomit.
“Okay,” Jack whispered, then swallowed, tearing his eyes away from Robbys face. “I need two large-bore IVs—16 gauge. Start O neg, two units, pressure bags. Let’s get him intubated. Don’t touch the rod.”
By the time the IV was in Robby’s arm, he was unconscious, eyes closed, face neutral. In another world, Jack would have assumed he was sleeping. But Robby wasn’t sleeping.
Robby was dying.
“He's crashing. SpO2 dropping—64 and falling,” Fitz said while Jack grabbed the intubation tube, heading to the spot above Robby’s head. It didn’t matter that Jenn could easily do the procedure — he could almost hear Robby berating him for not treating this like a teaching moment — this was his responsibility. Robby was his to care for.
“That rod’s pressing probably against the mesentery or lower aorta,” Jack said, slipping the tube into Robby’s mouth while Jenn used the tube to remove the blood pooling in his mouth.
“Shit—” Jack looked up to see Dr. Miller, their on-duty trauma resident, standing in the doorway.
“Call vascular and trauma,” Jack said, words coming out breathless as Fitz reached across him, taking the cuff straight from his hands. “We need the OR now.”
Miller was opposite Jack now, already assessing Robby’s abdomen with an ultrasound wand, carefully avoiding any area near the piece of metal. “Pelvis is unstable, abdomen's tense. We’ve got retroperitoneal blood and free fluid.”
“OR is full,” Sophia called out, still clutching the phone to her ear. “Two simultaneous codes from upstairs already inside. Estimated wait is—forty minutes. No trauma attending available.”
Jack lifted his eyes and met Miller’s.
“Do we wait?” Fitz asked, still squeezing the cuff.
“He’s bleeding through,” Miller said, lifting the corner of the soaked-through cotton pad. “Belly’s still swelling. He —” She didn’t say it out loud, voice drawling off into silence only broken by the high-pitched squeal of the machines as she twisted around the ultrasound machine so it was facing Jack. “Free fluid everywhere. It’s pouring into him.”
“That’s not free fluid,” Jack said, staring at the machine, his body frozen. “That’s blood. Clot must’ve given out.”
"That rod's opened something big,” Miller mumbled, tripping over her own words.
“Do we wait?” Fitz repeated, voice rising in panic.
Jack’s eyes shifted to Robby’s face, so familiar and yet hauntingly foreign laying there on the bed. He’s going to die right in front of you, Jack’s mind whispered to him. There’s nobody coming, it’s just you and Robby.
“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered, quiet enough nobody could hear him over the machines. Reaching out, he touched the soft skin of Robby’s upper-arm, pressing his thumb into his skin like he could somehow claim him, could somehow force the universe to return him back to Jack.
“Nobody’s coming,” Jack said, this time louder, accompanied by a deep, shuddering breath. “Alright folks. Clear that tray. Get the trauma pack. I’m opening him here.”
Miller looked stunned, her hand still holding the ultrasound to Robby’s abdomen.
“If we wait,” Jack snapped, eyes flicking upward to her face. “Then he bleeds out on this table.” Fitz was already switching places with Sophia in order to come around Jack with a gown and gloves. To her credit, Miller only hesitated for a heart-beat of a second, before she began to sterilize the area quickly, her hands moving double-time as they prepared Robby for surgery right there in the middle of the Pitt.
✦✦✦
Now
Jack tried calling three more times before Shen returned.
“Nothing critical,” Jack said when Shen approached, what seemed to be a swimming-pool size of iced Dunkin’ in his hand. “Couple cases of dehydration set-up in the south wing. We’ve got our first burn of the night — lighter fluid fell on the grill.”
“Yikes,” Shen said, shaking his head and taking a long, almost exaggerated sip.
“I’ve put Santos on triage with McKay, we can probably get a few of the waiting rooms folks in and out during the lull.” Jack plugged in the iPad and glanced up at the board.
“Good,” Shen said, eyes always lifting upward. “Means you’ve got time to take a rest, too.”
“I’m fine,” Jack said, hating how those words felt empty and haunting.
“Dr. Abbot,” Shen said with a tone-of-voice that Jack blamed entirely on Dana. “We’ll be fine without you.”
Jack wanted to say it’s not about that. This perceived hesitation to leave the Pitt to manage without him wasn’t born out of some concern that Shen would let the department fall apart while he stepped away. It was pure and unmistakable fear. If Jack left, if he returned to that stupid-fucking-staff-room and tried to fall asleep again, he’d wake up to find Robby lying on another bed with a metal-rod sticking straight out of his abdomen.
Or worse — and something he only thought about in his worst nightmares — he’d wake up to find he was too late. Robby was gone. Already cold to the touch. His face that translucent blue color that came on too truly really be realistic.
“Leave him alone,” Perlah said as she swept past them and into the nurse’s station, sitting down behind one of the computers. “Dr. Shen, patient in eleven is asking for a meal.”
“He can have a sandwich,” Shen said, his eyes shifting between Perlah and Jack like they were up to something. “Twelve is still fasting until they can get him to imaging.”
“Understood,” Perlah said, nodding as she began typing into the charts. When she lifted her eyes and met Jack’s gaze, there was something bordering on understanding in the look. “You get ahold of Dr. Robby?”
Jack mulled over his response. “No,” he finally landed on, just the right amount of honesty without admitting to just how fervently he’d been trying.
“Do we need him for a consult?” Shen asked, eyebrows arched as he looked at the board, then back at Jack.
“No,” Jack said, with enough decisiveness in his voice that Shen seemed to shrink back from that line of questioning. “No, we don’t need Dr. Robby.”
Perlah huffed, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Well, I’m off,” she said. “Night shift nurses are up to speed. Is there anything you need before Princess and I head out?”
“Oh yea,” Shen said, leaning on the counter, taking another long sip of his coffee. “Dana’s barbecue. Does she do this annually?”
“She tries,” Perlah said with a shrug as Princess came up behind her, already holding her purse, clearly ready to leave. “Need anything else, Dr. Abbot?”
I need you to tell Robby to call me, Jack’s mind tried to force out of his mouth, but he only shook his head.
“Alright, night then,” Princess said, already leaning to whisper to Perlah as the two women escaped around the other side of the counter, disappearing toward the break-room.
“Dr. Abbott,” Shen said, this time coupled with a withering look. “Don’t make me call Dr. Robby to force you to take a break.”
It almost made Jack laugh. It almost made Jack tell him to go ahead, to call Robby and let him talk to him. But he wasn’t going to be that person who couldn’t handle a measly double-shift without their partner.
“Fine,” Jack said, voice lower. “You get me the minute the surge begins.”
Shen, whether understanding that Jack wasn’t to be messed with tonight, or perhaps more accommodating with his coffee in hand, nodded agreeably. “Of course.”
“Fine,” Jack repeated, this time with a deep, shuddering breath, like he was relinquishing himself to his fate. There was nothing haunted about the staff-room. Just stepping inside wasn’t going to somehow curse Robby, that was illogical and absurd. “I’ll see you in thirty.”
“Take an hour,” Shen called out as Jack stepped away.
Unlikely Jack thought, but he didn’t respond, weaving his way through the department until he pushed open the the staff-room door and stepped inside. On normal shifts he tried to avoid this spot, knowing full well it looked almost identical to that night, with the same off-white sheets and dark, wooden desk in the corner. Tonight, he tried to pretend there were blinders on either side of his face, beelining straight for the edge of the bed.
He pulled out his phone almost unconsciously once he sat down, the blank screen and lack of notifications almost taunting at this point.
“Fuck you, Robby,” Jack mumbled, dropping the phone onto the bed with a sigh. Resting his elbows on his knees, he glanced down between his legs, gazing at the discolored tile floor. “Fuck you, Robby,” Jack mumbled, dropping the phone onto the bed with a sigh. Resting his elbows on his knees, he glanced down between his legs, staring at the discolored tile floor. He didn’t mean the words, but they felt cathartic to say.
Twisting around on the bed, Jack kicked up his legs and laid back. He laid there, studying the underside of the bunk above him, before finally lifting his hand above his head and grabbed his phone. It only took a few swipes for him to open and turn-on the app he used to listen to the police scanner. Resting the phone on the pillow, microphone facing his ear, he let the gentle, soothing static of the radio wash over him.
Thirty minutes — he could survive thirty minutes.
✦✦✦
Then
It was Jack’s wife who used to say surgery was nothing more than muscle memory and hope. At the time, he would shake his head and nod, if only to avoid the argument, never quite understanding how she could think hope had anything to do with it. Surgery was skill. Surgery was practice. Surgery was thinking faster than your hands could move. There was no time and place for hope when someone’s life was in your hands.
Or at least that’s what Jack thought then.
Standing beside Robby, hands coated in his best-friend and colleague’s blood, he finally understood what she’d meant all those years ago. It wasn’t that hope clamped an artery, or that hope brought up someone’s vitals. It was hope that kept you moving, even when it seemed hopeless.
Jack almost wished he could tell her. I get it now, he thought, hands searching desperately through the opening in Robby’s abdomen, searching along the retroperitoneal wall. I understand now, Kate. You were right all along.
Except there was no telling her. Not now. Not anymore.
But there was still time to tell Robby.
“I need suction,” Jack said, feeling blindly along, ignoring how quickly his heart was beating, the pounding in his ears almost loud enough to drown out the machines. Miller reached in, using a sponge with her other hand, trying to clear the area for him as best she could. In the back of his head, Jack could already hear Robby berating him for not using this as a teaching moment, but from the looks of it, Miller didn’t want the lesson as much as Jack didn’t want to offer it.
“Wait, there,” Jack snapped, body stiffening. “I’ve got a mass—left iliac region,” he said. “It’s arterial.” Lifting his right hand, coated in Robby’s blood, he motioned for the clamp, using the other to maintain pressure. Fitz passed it to him, placing it firmly in his palm. From his initial assessment, the artery was torn jaggedly, likely from where the rod punctured through. It took finessing, but he managed to slip the clamp far enough into his abdomen to reach the tear. “Clamping,” Jack said before the sharp ting of the metal echoed through the room.
It took a bit more suctioning from Miller before the cavity began to clear out.
“Vitals are improving,” Sophia said. “Ninety-four over fifty-eight. Heart rate’s dropping—one-twenty and slowing.”
“Good,” Jack said. “Now let’s get him sewn back together.”
Sutures were second-nature to Jack — one of the many skills he’d learned to do on feel alone out in the field — but he took his time with Robby, like somehow he could infuse every single stitch with some kind of magical protection that would keep him safe. By the last stitch, he felt worn-down, like a hollow-shell of the man that started the double-shift earlier that day.
“Saline,” Jack said, nodding at Miller, who proceeded to clean out the cavity, both of them peering in’s searching for any lingering signs of bleeding.
“Vitals stable,” Sophia chimed in, her voice sounding far less thready than before.
“No bleeding,” Miller said, looking up to meet Jack’s eyes. “Are we good to close?”
Jack nodded as the doors hissed open behind them. He spared them a quick glance as Miller began to prepare Robby for closure. Dr. Kuang, the attending trauma surgeon, was standing there, already gloved and gowned, eyes scanning the scene quickly before landing on the stable vitals on the screen above Sophia.
“You already did it,” she said, blinking heavily, no judgment in her voice, just disbelief.
“We had to,” Miller began, only to quiet as Jack took the next set of sutures from her hand.
“He was crashing,” Jack said, beginning to close up the first layer of Robby’s body. “There wasn’t time to wait for an OR.”
Kuang approached the table slowly, studying Robby’s abdomen. “Good work, Dr. Abbot,” she said finally, nodding her head. “He’s lucky you were on duty tonight.”
Jack didn’t reply, not that Kuang expected him to, whatever words he might have said lodged in his throat as he continued to close the opening, layer by layer. Muscle. Fascia. Skin. Like a check-list in his mind, each one another reassuring reminder that Robby was stable, that he was going to come out of this.
With the final stitch, Jack pulled away, staring down at Robby’s abdomen silently. He needed to say something. This was the moment he told them all good work, that they saved him, that they were heroes. But when he lifted his eyes, he found Miller and Fitz watching him silently, their gowns and gloves coated in Robby’s blood.
“Good—” Jack began to say, eyes fluttering closed. Good work, his mind urged, but his stomach twisted until it was hard to breathe, let alone speak. He blinked, then shuddered, spinning around as he yanked off his gloves, gown, and mask. Shoving them into the biohazard waste-bin, he pushed through the door and stepped back into the general chaos of the ED. A few of the nurses were congregated by the desks, clearly waiting on an update about Robby, while the two interns on shift were clustered together whispering.
Jack ignored them all, heading straight for the elevator.
✦✦✦
Now
Jack didn’t fall asleep, not even with the sweet lullaby of the scanner whispering into his ear.
“Unit 12, respond to noise complaint at 927 Liberty Avenue. Caller reports ongoing fireworks being set off from the rooftop of a parking garage. Third call from this location.”
“Engine 3, small brush fire reported near the Fort Duquesne Boulevard ramp, just east of Point State Park. Caller reports smoke and sparks coming from under the overpass.”
“Medic 4, respond to 110 Smithfield Street, male in mid-30s with hand trauma. Firework-related injury, bleeding controlled. Conscious and stable, awaiting EMS.”
“Unit 9, welfare check requested at 1414 Fifth Avenue, high-rise apartment. Elderly resident not answering door after multiple loud explosions. Neighbor concerned.”
While not enough to fully push him over the edge, it was enough to help Jack drift into that perfect sweet spot between sleep and waking, where his breathing evened out and the pressure of his own body seemed to soften. He didn’t want to admit it, but Shen might have been right about taking a rest — there was no feasible way he would have made it through a double-shift without at least laying down for a moment.
It wouldn’t do anyone any good to have Jack asleep on his feet.
“Unit 14, report of firework debris causing traffic hazard at the intersection of Grant Street and Boulevard of the Allies. Multiple callers report vehicles swerving.”
“Units 2 and 6, respond to multi-vehicle collision at the Smithfield Street Bridge inbound. Two vehicles involved, one rollover. Possible entrapment. Fire and EMS responding code three. Two victims en route to PTMC, five minutes.”
Jack heard, but he didn’t hear, the words washing over him. There was a solid chance it would haven’t have even registered, not if there hadn’t been a pounding on the door seconds later.
“Dr. Abbot,” McKay called, pushing open the door enough to speak through the gap. “Motor vehicle incident en route. Multiple victims, we’re setting up trauma one and three. We need you.
Jack couldn’t breathe.
“Dr. Abbot?” McKay repeated, pushing the door a little wider to glance inside.
Words escaped him, but he managed to wave his hand as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. That seemed to be enough for McKay, who slipped back out, leaving the door slightly cracked behind her. The scanner was still going, voices crackling into the quietness of the staff-room, almost imperceptible over the general chaos that was filtering through the door from the main hub.
“Fuck,” Jack said, rubbing a hand against his chest as he tried to take a deep breath. His whole body was vibrating, even when he pushed up from the bed and grabbed the corner of the bunk-bed to steady himself. Multiple victims meant nothing, he reminded himself. They saw motor-vehicle incidents daily, there was nothing special about this particular incident.
It wasn’t Robby. It couldn’t be Robby. Robby was at Dana’s enjoying a hamburger and drinking some cheap-beer that Jack would normally chew him out for.
Pushing away from the bed, Jack grabbed his phone, shutting down the scanner as he moved blindly toward the door. He yanked it open, ignoring the way it swung wide enough to bang against the wall as he rush down the hallway back into the Pitt. The EMT’s were already pushing the first gurney through the double-doors, Shen and Santos beside them within seconds, racing toward trauma one without even glancing his way.
It was only the long, blood-soaked blonde hair visible above the neck-brace that allowed Jack to sweep past them to meet the next gurney.
“Fifty-one-year-old male, restrained passenger, high-speed rollover on Smithfield. GCS six at scene, now five in transit. BP 84 over 52, HR 138, sats in the low 80s. Abdomen rigid. Left-sided chest trauma. Decreased breath sounds. One liter en route, no response,” the EMT shouted over the chaos, eyes lifting up to meet Jack’s as McKay swept up next to him.
There was no chance Robby was on Smithfield. No chance. Dana lived the opposite direction, he’d have had no reason to be driving that direction. But Fifty-one-year-old male reverberated over Jack — a jolt to his entire body — as he forcibly maneuvered his way toward the end of the bed, toward the victim’s face.
Two dark eyes stared up at him.
Two dark unfamiliar eyes.
“Trauma two,” McKay said, the team pushing the gurney faster through the hub, straight into the room.
“Alright, on my count,” Jack said, grabbing the edge of the board. “One, two, three —” He lifted easily, sliding onto the emergency bed as the nurses began to swarm, attaching him to the monitors with the utmost efficiency as they cut open the blood-soaked t-shirt he was wearing.
“Sir, can you hear me?” McKay said, leaning over the man’s face, which was strapped to the board below him. While the man didn’t say anything, he blinked, staring up at McKay with a flicker of understanding. “You’re at PTMC, you were in a car accident.”
“He’s got a surgical abdomen,” Jack said, grabbing the ultrasound kit from the side of the bed. Spreading the gel across the man’s chest, he pressed the wand to his skin, looking up at the monitor with narrowed eyes. “Positive FAST. This is liver or spleen. We need trauma surgery now.”
“Calling up to the OR,” one the nurses said, sweeping past to the phone attached to the wall.
“Vitals dropping, airway restricted,” McKay said, spinning around to grab the intubation tube from the tray behind her. “Intubating now.”
“OR ready in five,” the nurse called back to them.
“Alright, lets get him upstairs,” Jack said, once McKay had the tube inside the man's throat. “Come on, let’s move,” he said, grabbing the edge of the bed to begin pushing him forward, the team racing toward the elevator at a clipped pace, pushing the bed inside before ducking out as McKay slammed her hand into the buttons on the side.
Jack watched the doors close quietly, his eyes locked on the patients face. Not Robby he reminded himself, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets. That wasn’t Robby.
✦✦✦
Then
Jack didn’t breathe again until he was on the roof, standing at the railing, staring out into the evening sky. The air was thick and humid, the summer heat settling into Pittsburgh’s crevices. In the distance, he could already see fireworks beginning to litter the sky with bursts of color and light, a firm and pointed reminder that everything in the city was still moving — the world didn’t pause for anyone, not even Robby.
It took Jack a moment to realize he was shaking, his hands gripping the railing tight enough that his fingers throbbed. He forced himself to take another deep, wavering breath, holding it inside his body until his lungs burned, before exhaling slowly through his nose.
This was their spot — his and Robby’s. Jack couldn’t count the number of times they’d met up there before hand-over, watching the sunrise and the sunset together. It was one of the few peaceful spots in the hospital, far enough away from the actual medicine to feel innocent.
Turning his head to the left, Jack blinked at the small ceramic pot sitting right below the railing. What had once been a flower was now nothing more than a wilted leaves and deteriorating petals. It’d been Robby’s idea to bring it up there. ”Gardens are therapeutic,” he’d said and Jack didn’t have it in his heart to argue that a single flower wasn’t exactly a garden.
Now it just seemed to be another thing that was taunting him. Another reminder of Robby and what they’d almost lost, what he’d almost lost.
When the door behind him swung open, the metal scraping against the cement of the roof, Jack expected Fitz, or perhaps Dana, knowing she’d realistically been called the moment Robby came through for doors, but it was neither of them who leaned ups against the railing beside him.
It was Adamson.
“Dr. Adamson,” Jack said, startled, pushing away from the railing to face him.
“Dr. Abbot,” he said, bowing his head forward as he rested his elbows on the metal bar.
“I didn’t realize they’d called you.” Not that Jack asked.
“They tend to call the head of the emergency department when one of their doctors show up in an ambulance.” There was no bite to the words, only honesty, his gaze gentle as he observed Jack intently. “I hear we have a lot to thank you for tonight.”
“No,” Jack said, shaking his head, turning back around to face the evening sky.
“We both know Dr. Robby would disagree.” Adamson turned with him, so they were both staring out — dueling pillars on the roof. “You did an excellent work down there.”
It felt wrong to say thank you, or to even acknowledge the compliment, so Jack simply hummed and shook his head. “Robby deserved a really operating room.”
“I won’t disagree with you there,” Adamson said, knocking his knuckles against the railing before standing tall once more. “But he couldn’t have had a better doctor.”
Jack cleared his throat, letting this head tilted forward, stretching the back of his neck. “That’s not true.”
“Nobody could have done that surgery better.” Adamson turned to face him again. “Not even Dr. Robby.”
A bubble of laughter burst out of Jack, unbidden and unexpected, so oddly out of place compared to how he actually felt — bereft and broken.
“Don’t tell him I said that, of course,” Adamson added, reaching out to place a soft, yet firm, hand on Jack’s shoulder. The gesture was filled with a quiet understanding between two men who each loved Michael Robinavitch in their own unmistakable ways. “He’s going to make a full recovery.”
Jack nodded, swallowing thickly.
“I’ll manage downstairs.” Adamson squeezed his shoulder once, then retracted his hand. “Consider yourself off-duty, Dr. Abbot.”
“You’re meant to be on holiday,” Jack began to argue, spinning around, but Adamson was already walked back toward the stairwell, his gait slow and steady.
“You need to take a breath, Dr. Abbott,” he called back, pausing with the door. “And I imagine none of us plan leave this hospital until Dr. Robby wakes up.” He yanked open the door, letting it rest against his shoulder. “I’ll send someone to find you when he’s coming round.”
“I —” Jack’s chest clenched and he went quiet, managing only to nod his head before spinning back around as another firework exploded in the distance.
“He’s going to be fine,” Adamson shouted back, voice barely audible over the ting, ting, ting as the nearby firework show kicked off. “All because of you.”
✦✦✦
Now
It didn’t matter that this would be upwards of the tenth time he tried to call Robby over the last few hours, Jacked reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and dialed his number almost unconsciously. Lifting the phone to his ear, he listened to the first ring, the second ring, the third ring, tapping his foot against the floor almost impatiently as he willed Robby to actually pick-up the fucking phone.
“You’ve reached Michael Robinavitch, if this is an emergency, please—”
“You got an emergency ‘hon?”
Jack spun around, eyes widening almost imperceptibly when he found Dana standing directly behind him. She was dressed in her street-clothes — an aptly selected red-white-and-blue combination — and holding out a cellphone in her hand.
“What’re you doing back here?” Jack asked, gaze shifting from the phone to her face.
“Well someone keeps calling Robby.”
“What—” Jack began, blinking quickly before he glanced once more at the phone, at the familiar worn-down case wrapped around it. “Why do you have Robby’s phone?” He didn’t intend to sound as panicked as he did, but it came out with his words anyways. Stepping closer, he grabbed the phone out of her out-stretched hand, spinning it around to stare at the Ten Missed Called from Jacky on the screen.
“He’s been busy,” Dana said, shrugging in that charming way of hers. “How about a quick smoke break. Seems like Shen’s got things handled now.”
“You know I don’t smoke,” Jack said, eyebrow arching as he squeezed the side of the phone. “What exactly are you doing here?” The and with Robby’s phone went unspoken.
“Come on,” Dana said, waving him forward as she turned around and headed toward the ambulance entrance. While note intentional, Jack’s feet stayed rooted to the floor, holding both of the phones like they were weights counter-balancing each other. “Dr. Abbot, let’s go,” Dana called back, this time with more force in her tone. She didn’t pause for him, undoubtedly trusting that curiosity would get the best of him.
And it did.
“Not much of a holiday weekend if you’re back here on your day off,” Jack argued once he was within a few feet of her, trailing close behind as they stepped outside into the humid summer air.
“Holidays come in many forms,” Dana said with a hum, titling her head back to look at Jack as they passed by her usual smoke-spot.
“You know I’m still on shift, yes?” Jack asked, glancing back at the ambulance bay with a little bit of concern.
“Dr. Shen’s got it under control, like I said. Plus, Dr. Ellis just arrived for her shift.” There was little to no concern in Dana’s voice, even as they wrapped round the side of the building like they were headed to the parking garage, curiosity still drawing Jack forward, like a dog with a bone.
“Look who it is,” a voice called out, drawing Jack’s eyes to the left, to the small executive parking lot. Shielding his eyes from the late-setting sun, he squinted slightly and then stumbled. It was Perlah standing there, a can of something in her hand, and Princes standing beside her. “Was wondering when you’d come join the party.”
Just beyond her, there was a rathe large group of people congregating around something. For a fleeting second, Jack thought there was an actual fire in the parking lot, before he smelled the distinct scent of charcoal wafting toward them.
“What the fuck is this?” Jack mumbled, not even reacting to Dana’s soft chuckle, as he came to a full halt a few yards away. Standing in the center of the roped-off parking lot seemed to be nearly every doctor and nurse from the emergency department, all of them holding paper plates and cans of beer. It made no sense, even as Jack saw the small grill set-up right near Gloria’s parking spot.
“Jacky—” It was that voice that finally pulled Jack from his stupor, dragging his eyes upward until he saw him standing there, a pair of long tongs in his hand and that uncommon but oh-so-welcome grin on his face
Robby.
“What the hell is going on?” Jack asked, knowing full well he sounded absolutely dumfounded.
“Told you we were hosting a barbecue,” Dana said, pulling away from him as Robby came barreling up to them.
“I didn’t think you meant here,” Jack mumbled as Robby wrapped his arms around him in a tight, warm hug. It took him a moment to react, like his body was still trying to catch up to his eyes, but he managed to get his arm around Robby’s lower-back before he could pull away. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jack asked, voice softer this time, intended only for Robby.
“Surprise,” Robby said, pulling back to smile gently at Jack.
“But why would you—” Jack trailed off, shaking his head as Robby stepped back, arm still wrapped around his shoulder. Nearly everyone was there — Collins, Langdon, Mohan, Whitaker. Only a few people who weren’t on shift seemed to be missing, like a Pitt team-build in the parking lot.
“You didn’t actually think I was going to leave you today, did you?” Robby asked. “Especially not after our chat earlier.”
“You mean the one where I was an asshole?”
“Your words, not mind.” Robby grinned at him, squeezing his shoulder. “Nobody expects you to be okay today, least of all me.”
“So you moved Dana’s barbecue to the parking lot?”
“We had Collins talk to Gloria. She was surprisingly amenable.”
“That’s a first,” Jack said, watching Dana started gesticulating at the girl, while Langdon seemed to be leaning more toward yelling than talking.
“She said something about publicity, so it all evens out.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” Jack continued. “I was—”
“Fine?” Robby interjected, offering him a look that said don’t make me call you on your bullshit right now. “Well, maybe I wasn’t fine.” Dropping his arm away from Jack’s shoulder, he turned to face him. “I didn’t ask to have the holiday off, Gloria or whoever was scheduling probably forgot we normally work the double-shift together.”
“You deserved the rest.” It sounded weak even to Jack’s ears; weak, but not untrue.
“This is pretty restful,” Robby said, voice gentle as he gestured out at the party.
Jack could argue that planning a barbecue in the hospital parking lot wasn’t what he’d call restful. He could argue that Robby deserved to celebrate a holiday that didn’t include any mention of the Pitt, medicine, or Gloria. He could argue that someday he and Robby would have to find a way to let go of their lingering trauma centered on today.
But truthfully, Jack didn’t want to argue any of it.
Despite this being too grand of a gesture, despite it probably putting a damper on half the team’s holiday plans, Jack was so-fucking-glad to see Robby right now. For the first time since Robby stormed past the curtain earlier that shift, Jack felt whole again.
“Pretty sure that’s not that restful,” Jack finally settled on, nodding his head to were Dana, Langdon and now Collins were all arguing around the grill.
Robby waved it off with a chuckle. “Age-old debate on burger doneness.”
“Pressing matters, then.”
“Critical.”
Jack’s shoulders loosened as he tilted his head back, looking up at the evening sky. While he couldn’t see them, he could hear fireworks in the distance, the soft sizzle and pop as they shot into the sky. It was so reminiscent of the night on the roof with Adamson that it ached inside Jacks chest. Adamson would be happy to see this, to see them. Not just Robby and him, though that certainly would have earned them a knowing smile or two, but to see the whole team together like this.
“Maybe next year we should both take the holiday off, go somewhere nice,” Robby said quietly, sliding his hand around Jack’s arms so they were holding hands, palm-to-palm. It was rare they did this at work, not that Jack doubted any of their colleagues had managed to put two and two, but today, it felt singularly significant.
“Gloria would murder us,” Jack pointed out, entwining their fingers with a quick squeeze.
“That’s part of the fun.”
“Terrible.”
Robby laughed, their bodies close enough that their arms brushed against each other. “Come on, let’s get you a hamburger before London has his way and overcooks them all.” When he took a step forward, though, Jack stood firm, tugging Robby back toward him.
“Thank you for this,” Jack finally said, expression earnest as he looked up at Robby.
“For you,” Robby said, eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled. “Anything.”
✦✦✦
Then
It took Robby three hours to wake up from anesthesia.
By the time he started to come around, Jack was already sitting beside him, tucked away in a chair that Dana — who had been there, circling like a mother-hen, when he came down from the roof — had tucked into the already too-small room. Every now and then one of the nurses came through, checking on his vitals like Jack wasn’t obsessively watching the monitors himself. By the tenth time, he began to think Dana wanted the nurses to check on him more than Robby.
Robby was mending up well, given the trauma. Heart rate elevated, but steady. Blood pressure low, but also stable. His oxygen levels sat hovering in the 90’s, which was acceptable to Jack, particularly since he was breathing on this own, shallow but still strong. All the dressings were dry. His abdominal incision was draining, the IV line was still securely inside his arm, and his kidney function seemed to be normal.
At this point, Jack would be telling the worried family members that the first twenty-four hours were the toughest, but that things were looking good. He’d be telling them to rest, to step away and get fresh air, to even go home and grab a change of clothes. Eat something.
But there was no way in hell Jack was leaving Robby’s side.
And it paid off.
It paid off in fucking dividends when Jack was the first one to see Robby’s hand move, flexing below the crisp, white sheet.
Jack was on his feet in seconds, closing the gap between the chair and the bed.
“Robby.” He fingers brushed hesitantly against Robby’s forearm, before he finally allowed himself the simple reassurance of holding his hand. With their fingers entwined, Jack felt steadier, like the earth was no longer shifting beneath his feet. “Robby, can you hear me?”
All Robby managed was a soft groan, his eyelids fluttering.
“Take it easy,” Jack said gently, lifting other hand. He wanted to cup Robby’s cheek, to feel how warm his skin was, but he stopped himself, resting it on the pillow beside his head instead. “Gentle.”
“Ja—” Robby began to say, voice scratchy as he finally opened his eyes wide enough to look up at Jack. He looked disoriented, but his heart-rate remained steady, the machines still beeping in rhythm.
“You’re okay.” Jack’s hand squeezed Robby’s. “You’re in the hospital, you were in a car crash.”
“I—” Robby struggled to speak, releasing a heavy breath instead.
“We’ve got you stable, but you came in with a piece of metal through your abdomen.” Jack was rambling, talking about the diagnosis like they were on a hand-over and he wasn’t at Robby’s bedside. “We were able to remove it and stem the bleeding. It hit an artery, but we stitched that up.”
“Jack,” Robby managed to say, his naming coming out more like a sigh.
“You’re going to be okay. It’s — It’s still early, but you’re stable. Everything is stable.”
“Jack.” Robby’s eyelashes fluttered as he closed his eyes again.
“Are you in pain? I can up the dosage if you need, we kept it lower until you were awake and we could assess. I’ll have Dana get—”
“Jacky.” Robby squeezed his hand, head tilting every so slightly toward Jack’s hand on the pillow, like he was trying to move closer. “Don’t leave.”
“I won’t.” Jack struggled to breathe, his throat constricting while his hand ached to reach over and brush his fingers through Robby’s hair.
Robby’s eyes opened again, this time more present as he looked up at Jack once again. “I remember you,” he whispered, like it was all his voice could manage right now.
Jack’s hand tightened in Robby’s.
“— know you saved me.”
Biting the inside of his cheek, Jack shook his head, lifting his eyes away from Robby’s face to stare at the heart-rate monitor. It was blurry by the time he blinked.
“M-maybe next year,” Robby said, already sounding like he was half-under again, his face peaceful as he drew in a shallow breath. “Work the double together?”
Closing his eyes, Jack waited until he thought he could talk without his voice cracking. “Yea,” he finally said. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” Robby whispered before he was pulled back under again, his face peaceful as his breathing evened out.
“Good,” Jack repeated, finally lifting his other hand to wipe the tears off his face. “Good.”