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Chapter Text

9:32

Dana was having a surprisingly good morning. 

The board at seven wasn’t the disaster that it often was at shift change. There were no boarders waiting to be sent up to psych, only one waiting on the ICU. The patients in the first two hours of the day were mild. Mild cases, with mild tempers, and mild mannered families. It was the type of day that had been nearly boring in its mundanity.

Of course, it was only nine-thirty. There was plenty of time for everything to go to shit. Which it would. She had worked at PTMH for long enough to know that it always did, it was only a matter of when and how. A city bus crash, a drive-by shooting, a house fire. One might accuse her of cynicism, but in the ER cynicism was a little more like pragmatism. She might hope for the day to carry on as it had, but was prepared for when it inevitably fell apart.

In her time as charge nurse, Dana had learned to recognize an instigating incident. A patient that would turn the ER on its head, sucking up time and resources and leaving them spent. Rarely could she get ahead of it properly, but she could at least prepare her staff for the shitstorm. 

She picked up her coffee and surveyed the Pitt. A broken ankle in four. A stomach virus in seven. A bowel obstruction in eight. A biker who had experienced an unfortunate run-in with the side of a taxi in trauma one. Collins was vomiting in the bathroom. Langdon was surveying the board. She hadn’t seen Robby, but he was somewhere. Gloria had been circling the ER all morning and God help him if she’d finally tracked him down. 

It seemed almost like she had a free second. She set down her cup and made the snap decision to grab a smoke while the opportunity lingered, positive that if she waited the window would slam shut. She strode out from the desk and toward the exit and the ambulance bay beyond. She always kept a pack hidden in a little niche between a pillar and a trash can. She made it most of the way there.

Dana really could recognize an inciting incident when she saw one. And the woman with the short blond hair was a hell of a shitstorm wrapped up in a cute pink hoodie. She pivoted hard, cutting her feet toward chairs and McKay at the computer where she was rapidly charting a patient.

“Pink hoodie, near the door.”

McKay glanced at her, then followed her eyes to the woman. She was youngish, short and slim, with pale skin and cropped bleached-white hair not unlike Dana’s own. Dana could have rattled off her name, age, and medical history from memory. 

“The broken arm?” McKay asked. Her tone was questioning. It wasn’t the type of injury that necessitated a quick entry, and the woman seemed remarkably okay. She was cradling the limb against her chest and her eyes were red from where she’d obviously been crying, but she wasn’t anymore. There was no blood, no screaming, and no indication that she was about to take a header out of her chair.

“That’s not a broken arm,” Dana said firmly, “That’s a VIP. Get her into a bay, now, and pass her off to a senior resident.”

McKay’s eyebrows shot up, “For a broken arm?”

“Yes,” Dana backed toward the ER proper, “Five is open, I’ll warn Collins and Langdon that you’re coming.” And just like that her opportunity for a cigarette was gone. Already she could feel the headache coming. She glanced around and breathed half a sigh of relief when she didn’t see Robby. She hoped Gloria kept him busy until she could get the patient settled. 

Collins had joined Langdon at the board. They were having some kind of argument over a patient in Central but she didn’t stop to hear what it was.

“VIP incoming, who’s taking it?” She set her feet firmly and crossed her arms. Technically, she didn’t have the authority to order doctors around, but when used sparingly her strictest tone had the power to move them all anyway.

Collins eyed her, “Who’s the VIP?” 

It was a good question. A VIP had the power to make or break a career, depending if they were likely to live or die before they left the department. Dana took a breath and shot a glance over her shoulder. She lowered her voice a little, “Grace Summers.”

“What for?” Langdon asked sharply, in time to Collins, “Oh, fuck no.”

They looked at each other. Then started to argue. 

“I’m not taking her, you know it’s going to be-”

“I had her the last time, it’s your-”

“He’s not going to-”

“Well why do you think he’d-”

“Shush!” Dana barked. Both doctors fell silent. “Rock-paper-scissors, now!”

Collins and Langdon stared at her, then looked at each other. They both looked like they wanted to argue, then raised a hand. They shook fists in the air three times, then threw.

“Fuck!” Langdon barked.

“Yes!” Collins glanced once at the board, then darted off toward the south end.

Langdon sucked in a huge breath, and let it whistle out between his lips, “Which bed?”

“Five.” Dana answered, “Look, keep the curtains closed, keep the med students away, and I’ll try to keep him distracted.”

“Yeah, that’ll help.” He threw a frustrated hand up toward the board, “He’s gonna see her name the second he walks over here.” He slapped the same hand down on the counter, “This is going to be my whole fucking day.”

Dana glanced toward five where Grace Summers was being gestured by a smiling McKay, “It’ll be fine. It’s just a broken bone, no reason to get worked up.”

“Uh-huh,” Langdon scowled and backed towards five. He lifted a finger to point in Dana’s face, “Tell him that.”

Dana would. But it definitely wouldn’t help. She knew from experience, as well as Langdon did, that while very few things got Robby worked up, Grace was all but guaranteed to manage it.

Frank couldn’t believe he had lost at Rock-Paper-Scissors. He never lost at Rock-Paper-Scissors. He played against his kid four times a day. Twice to convince him to brush his teeth, once to get him to clean up his toys, and again so that he would eat his vegetables. But, that was a four-year-old with a pretty viscous tell and not an adult woman who knew just how badly his new patient was about to fuck his whole day. 

He took deep breaths the whole way to bed five, and stood on the outside of the curtain for a minute, fighting with the urge to run. 

It wasn’t Grace. He could handle Grace. Grace was great. 

He couldn’t handle being treated like a first year med student when Grace was in the ER. It was like her presence rolled back the clock and all of a sudden he was as fresh-faced and twitchy as Whitaker. Robby would be up his ass the second he saw the board, and refuse to crawl his way out until the woman was discharged, which would probably take the whole goddamn day. He swore once more, under his breath, and ducked through the curtain.

“Langdon!” 

“Hey Grace,” Frank greeted. He managed to grin. He really did like Grace.

Grace, for her part, seemed to like Frank too. He’d been her doctor before. She was always pleasant, smiling, and had a sense of humor that made him feel like he could crack a joke and not get sued. She grinned widely at him, despite her red eyes, “How have you been?”

“Fantastic,” He answered, “I got my kids a puppy.” He yanked a pair of gloves out of the dispenser and pulled them on.

Grace raised her eyebrows, “How’s your wife feel about that?”

Frank rolled his eyes, “Seriously? Why do I keep getting asked that question?”

She shrugged, “How long are your shifts again?”

“Twelve hours.” Grace made a face and he thought he might be supposed to glean some information from it, but he didn’t. He asked instead, “What happened?” and held out his hand for hers.

Dutifully Grace stretched out the limb and tugged up her sleeve with the opposite hand and a deep grimace that put fresh tears in her eyes, “I fell on the stairs at my place and landed on it. I’m pretty sure it’s broken.” Her voice broke, just a little, on the last word.

The entire statement was truly terrible news. He took her hand and pinched gently at her swollen wrist, then manipulated it left and right. She sucked in a pained breath, “You take anything for the pain?” She shook her head, “Okay. I’m gonna need an x-ray to know for sure.” He didn’t really. If Grace was crying it was definitely broken, it was just a matter of whether it was badly enough to need a few screws, “We’ll get you something for the pain while you wait. Do you know what caused the fall?”

“I dunno, the stupid stairs are carpeted, it’s a deathtrap in wool socks. I usually wear my slippers but do you think I can find them?” She sucked in another breath and took her arm back when he let go. 

Frank surveyed her carefully, “Is there a possibility you hit your head when you fell?”

“Why am I not making sense?” Grace asked back, her mouth twitching back up into a little smile.

Frank smiled in return, “Because if you don’t really know you could’ve bonked your head on the way down. I’m gonna order a CT just in case.” He pulled a penlight from his pocket and shined it rapidly across her pupils.

Grace blinked at the light. Her eyebrows shot up, “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Frank put the light away and yanked off his gloves, “Gotta rule it out. Can’t have you dropping dead of a brain bleed.”

“I didn’t hit my head, Langdon, I just slipped.”

Frank shrugged, “Just doing my job Grace. I’ll get Princess in here with some painkillers, alright?”

Grace chewed her lip, “How long is a CT gonna take?”

Frank shrugged again, “I dunno. Better cancel your plans and get comfy.” He didn’t know, but he had an idea. They’d been backed up, seemingly for the entire lifespan of the hospital. Grace would be in the ER for hours at least. Definitely too long to keep her under wraps from Robby and the second the cat was out of the bag, he was screwed. 

She huffed a huge sigh, “I was supposed to go to yoga today.”

“You can do yoga right there,” he grinned and watched her roll her eyes before he slipped through the curtain. He could see on the opposite side of the ER, Robby on the heels of a pair of medics and Mel, a STEMI on the gurney. If he was lucky, that would buy him half an hour. He practically ran to the nearest computer to order imaging. 

Santos swept up beside him, “How’s your broken arm? Gonna need to be set?”

“I dunno,” he glanced toward the nurses behind the desk, “Princess can you get 1000 of tylenol and 400 of ibuprofen to five? Rush.”

Santos blinked, “You’re rushing ibuprofen?” When he didn’t reply she asked, “If your arm needs setting can I do it?”

Frank liked Santos okay. She was ambitious and annoying, but she was decent. He’d be damned if he let her touch Grace, “No. Stay the hell away from five.” He pointed a stern finger in her face, “If she asks for a cup of water, you defer to me, do you understand?”

“Woah, alright,” she held up her hands in surrender, “Who the hell is she?”

“A VIP. You want to keep your spot here? Don’t touch her.” He glanced toward the trauma bay and the STEMI he couldn’t see beyond its doors. 

“Holy shit,” Santos muttered, “She own the hospital or something?”

Langdon waved toward the board, “Go find a patient. Now.”

Santos gave him one more alarmed look before she disappeared toward the north end. Just in time for Collins to hit the counter beside him, “Well?”

“Fell down the stairs.” 

“Why?” Collins glanced towards the trauma bay too. 

“Slipped.” He didn’t really want to explain the case to Collins when she could have been working it, and he would have to explain again sometime in the next hour. 

The woman grimaced, “You better-“

“I know.” 

He did know. Grace was about to be the most thoroughly cared for broken limb in hospital history. It was already making him sweat. 

“GSW to the abdomen!”

“Mine,” he barked at Collins, and made a break to meet the gurney. 

Heather let him have it. She had won the day already, there was no sense in fighting him on anything else. She wasn’t Grace’s doctor, and hadn’t been for a long time, but she remembered enough of her history to know that a fall was bad. A fall on some stairs was worse. And Robby knowing that she’d fallen on some stairs was the absolute fucking worst of all. She really didn’t envy Langdon, and the littlest twist of worry settled in her stomach. 

Heather liked Grace too. Of their frequent fliers, she had been the most pleasant, and often most heartbreaking. And that had been before they all knew. 

“Javadi,” she called across the desk. 

Javadi changed course, her notebook pressed to her chest, “Yes Dr. Collins?” There was a hesitant smile on her face. 

“I need you to get some apple juice from the cafeteria and deliver it to five.” Javadi stared at her like she was insane, “Off you go.”

“Oh. Okay?” 

Victoria didn’t really understand why she was being asked to deliver apple juice to a patient. By Collins, who wasn’t overly involved with her patients. For a patient that wasn’t even hers. According to the board when she glanced on her way by, central five was a broken arm that belonged to Langdon. The whole thing was weird. 

Maybe, she thought as she walked to the cafeteria, it was a friend or relative of Collins’. She wouldn’t be allowed to treat her family, but she probably would check in on them. Although, she didn’t know if Collins actually had any family. She didn’t know anything about any of her colleagues. 

Or maybe, she thought on the way back, Collins just wanted her out of the way on an errand. Because she had messed up. She’d crashed and been too nervous to get back in a trauma bay. She had to do it, that was the bottom line. Especially if her teachers thought she needed to be gotten out of the way.

She slid the curtain open. 

The woman didn’t look like a relative of Collins. She was white, and almost ghostly fair in the way that had her wondering about low iron and anemia. Victoria supposed that didn’t mean a lot. The woman had her left arm against her chest and her phone in her other hand. She was scrolling idly and glanced up with a little grin. 

“Lemme guess,” she dropped her phone, snapped her fingers, and pointed, “Student doctor.”

“Yes,” Victoria felt a momentary tickle of pride, then remembered she was acting as a glorified delivery woman, “Dr. Collins asked me to bring you this.” She stepped closer, content to know the woman wouldn’t snap at her or start bleeding everywhere. She offered the cup in her hand. 

The woman took it, “Aw, Collins. What a beauty.” She took a sip and considered Victoria, “I’m Grace.”

“Dr. Javadi,” she smiled, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thanks,” Grace squinted, “Are you related to-“

It was a bit like being splashed with cold water. How did this random patient know her mom? And well enough to recognize her ? She didn’t get the time to process it, or ask, because then she was getting shouted at. 

“Javadi!” Langdon stalked up beside her and yanked the curtain shut with a rattle, “What are you doing to my patient?” 

Her heart pounded painfully, “Dr. Collins asked me to-“

“Chill, Langer.” Grace raised an eyebrow and rattled the ice in her cup, “She brought me juice.” She sipped it, “She’s my new favourite doctor.”

Langdon slapped a hand over his heart dramatically, “Ouch! After all we’ve been through?”

“You didn’t bring me juice.” Her tone was teasing. 

“What if I bring you to x-ray?” He waved a hand at Victoria, “Grab me a wheelchair.”

Victoria was already a little sick of being ordered on tasks worthy of a much-disliked orderly but she knew when to keep her mouth shut. She went to get the wheelchair and tried hard to listen to the conversation that faded out behind her. 

“I know you’re not trying to put me in a chair right now.”

“Hospital policy for head injuries.”

“I don’t have a head injury!”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“Langdon!”

“C’mon Grace, it’ll take five minutes, be a good sport. For me? You can tell me what’s wrong with my dog.”

The woman huffed a huge breath, “Fine.”

By the time Victoria returned with the wheelchair, Grace was sipping her juice and Langdon was looking extremely contrite. Grace hopped up from the bed and flopped into the chair, “Just get a dog walker.” 

Langdon chewed his lip. 

“Need some help over here!” 

Victoria looked over her shoulder. Whitaker was chasing a gurney, blood fountaining off a patient and onto the floor. Her stomach lurched. 

“Better get that,” Grace said mildly. Langdon seemed to stick to the floor. He stared at her. Grace frowned, “Really? Javadi can take me. Or a nurse. Or I could walk myself there-“ she gestured toward radiology with her cup. 

“No med students for you.” He grit, but seemed torn. 

“She managed the juice,” Grace said seriously. 

“She didn’t. You hate ice-“ he dropped off with another shout from Whitaker, “Fuck! Straight to radiology and back!” That to Victoria, then he was off through the curtain like a shot. 

“Aw. I do hate ice.” She sipped her drink anyway, “Why was he being so weird? Are you bad at your job?”

“No!” Victoria snapped, grabbing the handles of the chair and steering her through the curtain. 

“That’s super weird then,” Grace said mildly. She surveyed the Pitt. 

Victoria glanced around. She was pretty sure the woman wasn’t trying to be rude. Collins was in a bay with an elderly woman. Mel was making her way to a computer. Santos was leaning on the desk, staring at Victoria like she’d grown two heads. Dr. Robby took two steps out of a trauma bay, looked at Victoria, glanced at the back of her patient's head, took two more quick steps and nearly ran into Evans who started talking rapidly and steered him back the other direction with a hand on his arm. 

“Everyone’s being weird today,” she muttered. 

Grace laughed, “No kidding. So does your mom work in surgery?”

“Yes,” Victoria answered. She didn’t really want to think about her mom. 

Grace made a mild huh sound. She didn’t say anything else for a while. In the radiology department she asked about Victoria's favourite places to eat in the city and they debated her choices the whole way through x-ray and back to the ER.

Everything seemed to have gotten less weird. Or at least more busy. Nobody was lingering in the corridor, they were all gone to bays. Victoria delivered Grace back to her own bed. 

Grace shoved up out of the wheelchair, set her mostly empty drink on top of a cardiac monitor, and flopped back to sit on the bed, “I seriously don’t know why he made you push me there. I could find the radiology department blindfolded. And my head is fine by the way.”

“I’m sure he’s just being cautious,” Victoria said, but it was super weird. By all accounts Grace seemed entirely fine. Or, fine but with an arm that was definitely broken. It didn’t make sense for Langdon to hesitate to leave her for a patient that had turned into a fountain, and it didn’t make sense for Collins to have sent Victoria over in the first place. What happened next made even less sense. 

The curtain that Victoria had remembered to close behind them, was ripped aside with a screech. Dr. Robby stuck for a full two seconds in the gap. Victoria could see over his shoulder, Evans with a grimace on her face. Collins, behind her, frowned deeply. He didn’t look at Victoria at all. Just barked, “Out!” And stepped further into the bay, through Victoria’s space, forcing her to back up or be run over. 

“Doctor-“ Victoria started. Robby had been, all the time she’d known him, extremely patient. He’d never snapped at her, even when she’d fucked up. 

“Go find me Langdon, now!” He turned just enough that she could see the look on his face. 

Victoria scrambled from the bay. She could just hear Grace’s voice behind her saying, “What the hell Robby? That was so mean!” but she couldn’t stop to listen. She didn’t want Santos to see the tears threatening to well up in her eyes. 

Robby was vaguely aware that he had been mean. Javadi wasn’t bad. She was delicate, almost sure to flame out before her rotation was finished, but she didn’t need his help to do it. Usually he could muster the patience to be gentle with her, if only so that when she did flounder nobody could say it was for lack of support. But looking at Gracie, sitting on a hospital bed, one foot hitched up and her arm against her chest, he couldn’t manage it. 

She was too- something. Cold dread settled down into his bones, “What happened?” He reached for her arm. 

Gracie turned her entire body to avoid his hand, “No way, man! I don’t talk to rude doctors.

She didn’t. He knew that. But- “Gracie-“

“Nuh-uh. You can’t just roll in here and start yelling at the baby doctors. Not to mention I haven’t seen you in a year but no hello or anything?” She hiked up her other foot and swiveled back against the headboard where he couldn’t even see her arm properly, “I’m giving you a two when I do my discharge paperwork.”

She was right. He knew that. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry.” 

Gracie eyed him, “Don’t tell me that. Tell the baby doctor.”

He felt bad about Javadi, but he also felt like he’d die if she didn’t answer his question about what had happened, “I will. I promise. Now will you-“

“No.” She answered. She gestured toward the curtain, “Try again.”

“Gracie-“ he was the head of the department. He didn’t have the time to be screwing around. 

“Try again, or go away.” Gracie said firmly. 

Robby fidgeted. Gracie stared him down, her blue-grey eyes serious. She had once kicked a respiratory therapist out of her hospital room for being, in her words, a raging dick. He knew because he had been there. He had followed the RT all the way down the hall, and shouted at him until he agreed to apologize. It hadn’t been Robby’s finest moment, in retrospect, but it was evidence that she didn’t bend. 

Slowly he turned and slipped back through the curtain. The Pitt on the other side was chaos. The way it almost always was. Noise crashed over him in a wave. He took a deep breath and stepped back into central five, aware as he did it of the eyes of his staff on his back. 

The noise of the Pitt seemed to disappear. Gracie was sitting the same way she had been when he first walked in, one leg hitched up, her arm against her chest. She was trying to smother a grin.

“Gracie,” he tried to inject some excitement into the statement despite still feeling like there was ice in his stomach, “It’s been a while. About a year?”

“Robby!” She chirped back, “It’s so nice to see you!” Her grin grew, “It has been a year, look,” she flicked her short hair, “Practically grown out.”

“Looks great,” He returned, “Really suits you.” And it wasn’t a lie, or a platitude. A little of the ice melted. She seemed fine. But then, Gracie always seemed fine. Right up until she was dying right in front of him, “What brings you in?”

She extended her arm for him to take, tugging her sleeve back over her swollen wrist, “Good old slip and fall.” 

Gently he took her hand, freezing cold in his, and moved it side to side. She winced. It was definitely broken, “Where did you fall?”

Gracie hummed, “My place.”

He was immediately positive that she was being evasive. Gracie liked to chat. She could have spun him a whole yarn, “Where specifically?” He prompted. 

Gracie tipped her head toward her shoulder. She huffed, “The stairs.”

“You fell down the stairs?” She needed more than a wrist x-ray. She was probably bruised all over. What medications was she still on? Any that would cause excessive bleeding?

“No!” She flapped her free hand, “I fell on the stairs. Not down. They’re carpeted, who’s bright idea was that, right? Freakin’ death trap. I slipped because I couldn’t find my slippers which I think I left in the basement but I really can’t remember why-“

The curtain flicked open. Langdon stepped in looking very briefly dismayed, Javadi visible behind him, before he shut it again. 

Robby looked at Langdon when he asked, “When did you see Dr. Ortner last?”

“Oh my God,” she rolled her eyes, “That is so not related.”

“Gracie,” his voice was hard. 

“It isn’t,” she maintained, “I slipped. It’s bad enough that Langer’s going to make me wait here all day for a head CT, we don’t need to go down that rabbit hole.”

Robby frowned. He knew from experience that Gracie wasn’t going to tell him anything she didn’t want to, but he needed to know. They had been there before, a fall on some stairs. Two beds over and four years passed, “I’m ordering bloodwork.”

“Sorry,” Gracie sassed, “You’re not my doctor.”

“I’m ordering bloodwork.” Langdon supplied over Robby’s shoulder. 

“Why?” Gracie directed her whined question up toward the roof. 

Langdon looked at Robby. Robby answered, realizing as he did that her hand was still pressed neatly between both of his, “Your hand is freezing. I’ll be surprised if your iron levels are half what they’re supposed to be.”

“What he said,” Langdon gestured to his back. 

“They’re literally always like that and I take my iron supplement every morning.” Gracie rolled her eyes again, “You’re such a worrier. Although,” she touched her free hand to her cheek, “It is a little chilly. Here, do this one.” She held out her uninjured hand. 

Automatically Robby shifted his grip, letting her injured hand go with his left so that he could grip her right too. It didn’t occur to him immediately what a strange thing it was to do. 

“I’m gonna order that blood work,” Langdon said mildly, and was gone with a screech of the curtain. 

Robby held her freezing hands, an ugly puddle of fear still in his stomach, “When did you get labs last?”

“Three months.” Gracie answered, “I’m capable of taking care of myself you know. If I thought something was wrong, I’d get checked out. But I’m fine. Actually.”

It wasn’t that he thought she wasn’t capable. There was just something that lived in him, despite her assurance. Something that demanded he do it for her, “I need to confer with Langdon.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you later. Make sure you apologize to the little doctor.”

“Alright.” It felt like a promise but to which part he wasn’t totally sure. It took him a minute to let go of her hands and step away. 

The noise of the Pitt hit him full force the second the curtain was open. Without Gracie’s smile in front of him, the dread in his stomach seemed to grow a set of teeth. It chewed at his ribs. Three months was long enough for any labs to be redundant if the conditions were right. He stalked to meet Langdon at the desk, “Get ahold of Ortner, have everything forwarded.”

“On it.” He muttered, already typing on the computer in front of him. 

“The second it comes back I want to see. You ordered a CT?”

“Yes.”

“Get me that too. Radiology results?”

“Not back.”

“Who’s in ortho today?”

“Miller.”

“Send it to Gilks. Miller needs fucking glasses.” It was rare to hear Robby shit talk a colleague and even more rare for him to do it in the hearing range of the nursing staff. Princess gaped at him, “Anything, and I mean fucking anything changes, you report it to me, you understand?” 

Frank did understand. He’d been expecting the demand, “Yes.”

The doors to the ambulance bay flew open. A gurney rolled in to meet Mel, the medics already talking rapidly about the car wreck the woman had been pulled out of. Robby glanced at the gurney and started to back toward it. He leveled a finger at Frank, “And keep the fucking med students out of there!”

Frank just nodded. He couldn’t even muster a smart ass comment. It was like Robby’s standard operating instructions, the ones that designated him a patient teacher who let his students make mistakes and gave his doctors the freedom to act as they saw fit, had been ripped to shreds. Grace’s presence in the Pitt changed everything. 

11:18

Dana had seen it, the instant Robby saw Grace from across the Pitt. The change in his body. The loose posture he usually favoured was gone, exchanged for hard lines and sharp angles. 

She really had done her best to head him off. Tried to mitigate the panic by telling him what she knew, just a broken arm, Langdon was on it, already headed to x-ray. It didn’t help. The only thing that had stopped him from chasing her down in radiology was a head trauma speeding through the corridor. 

Dana really hoped that whatever tests Robby bullied Langdon into ordering, they all came back clear. She couldn’t handle watching Grace waste away a second time. Wasn’t sure what the watching would do to Robby. 

“Who’s the VIP in five?” McKay asked, hitching her elbows up on the charge station. 

“Grace Summers.” Dana answered. 

“Well, yeah, but,” McKay glanced over her shoulder, then leaned in a little closer, “Santos said Langdon bit her head off when she asked about consulting and then apparently Robby yelled Javadi out of the bay?”

Dana sucked her teeth. She glanced at the closed curtain of central five, then at the closed doors of trauma two, “She was a frequent flier. Few years ago.”

McKay raised her eyebrows. Everyone knew the frequent fliers but rarely did that influence their care to such a degree. Everyone knew Earl didn’t like egg salad, but nobody had ever shouted at a med student about it, “Robby doesn’t yell.”

“She’s Robby’s favourite patient.” Dana supplied. It wasn’t enough to encompass the relationship, and was entirely too much at the same time. She picked up the tablet in front of her and went to find Collins. 

Cassie watched her go. She had the strong sense that she was missing something important and had been dismissed. It didn’t really matter. She had her own patients, she didn’t need to be messing around with one of Langdon’s. Even if the curiosity was killing her. 

Although, maybe she did, because the blond woman was peeking out from her curtain. Slowly, she edged through the gap and down the corridor. Cassie was positive the woman had said she’d slipped, there was no reason for her to be trying to skip out of the ER. 

She pushed off the counter and followed. The woman made it most of the way across the room, then slid around the back of the nursing station. Stealthily, as though she wasn’t making eye contact with a grinning Jesse, she snagged a sandwich off the cart. 

“Grace!”

The blond jumped, and turned, “Earl! Shush! You're gonna get me caught!”

Earl’s eyes lit up, “You share and I won’t snitch.”

Grace eyed him. Then she grabbed a sandwich from the stack and crossed to Earl’s bed to hand it to him, “That’s extortion Earl.” 

The man shrugged, “It’s been a minute. You’re not sick?”

“No, I fell. Broke something,” she hitched her broken arm a little higher against her chest, “How’re you doing?” 

“Better now. You been to Fremont lately?” 

“No,” Grace used her teeth to unwrap the plastic from her food, “I thought it was doing alright. What’s the problem?”

“They’re serving the same shit four nights a week!” Earl griped. 

“Well that’s stupid,” Grace took a bite of sandwich, then said around it, “Is that a money problem, you think?”

“Between you and me,” he lowered his voice and leant in so Cassie couldn’t hear the next bit, but whatever he said, his face was serious and it made Grace frown. She nodded slowly along with Earl’s words.

“Gracie!” 

There really was no reasoning out what happened next. Robby, halfway from trauma two to one, diverted course. He grabbed a wheelchair on his way to meet Grace, who flinched visibly at his sharp call of her name, and said to Earl, “You got me busted, man.”

Earl looked apologetic and Cassie frowned in confusion. Robby shoved the chair right up behind Grace’s knees and said, “Sit.”

“I don’t have a head injury,” Grace announced, but she sat anyway. 

Robby glanced around, saw Cassie lingering nearby, and barked an order, “Get her back to central five.”

Cassie was dumbfounded. Grace swiveled in her chair and said, “Robby, you guys abandoned me in there to starve and scared off all the med students, what did you expect me to do?” 

He was already halfway back to the trauma bay doors, “Stay put until I get your CT results!”

“You aren’t my doctor!” Grace called back. She watched Robby’s retreating back until he disappeared, then took a bite of her sandwich, frowning, “What is up with him today?”

Earl leant toward her and muttered something under his breath. Grace laughed aloud. 

Cassie crossed the floor in a few steps to meet them, “Sorry Grace but I’m a little worried if I don’t get you back I’ll lose my job.”

“Do what you gotta do McKay. I’ll take care of it Earl.” The two tapped knuckles, then Cassie steered her around and back toward central. 

“What are you taking care of?” Cassie asked.

Grace swallowed her bite and answered, “I do some work with the shelters around the city. Fremont is closest to where Earl likes to hang but it’s having some issues, apparently.”

“You’re a social worker?” Cassie guessed. 

“No,” Grace shook her head and didn’t elaborate. 

Cassie took the hint. She said instead, “According to Dana, you’re Robby’s favourite patient.”

“Am I?” Grace asked. She sounded pleased, “He’s not even my doctor. He and Langer are being total helicopters today, I can't remember if they were always like this and I was too stoned to notice, or if it’s new for some reason.” She re-wrapped the plastic on her food.

Cassie steered them past the curtain, eyebrows raised, “Stoned?” 

“Oh yeah, but like,” she flapped her uninjured hand as she moved to sit on the bed, setting the sandwich on the side table on her way, “The legal kind. I had a lot of cancer.”

Cassie didn’t think she’d ever heard cancer described as a matter of volume before, “Oh no.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t great. I was in and out pretty often.” She hitched her arm up against her chest and pulled her phone from her pocket with the other, “But the team here is really good so, silver linings.”

“They are good.” Cassie agreed. 

The curtain slid open. Langdon squinted at her, “What’re you doing?”

“Robby ordered her to put me to bed,” Grace said. She set her phone on her stomach, “You can answer this, was he always a complete helicopter?”

Frank had only ever heard the term applied to parents. The overly involved kind who called their daycares or schools every day and wouldn’t let their kid further than two feet from them at a park. It was surprisingly apt, “Yes."

“Huh,” she seemed to think about that, “Doesn’t he have a zillion patients? How does he get anything done?”

“He’s just like that for you Grace,” Frank answered, before it occurred to him that he fucking shouldn’t. The suggestion that she was special, made out loud, was a problem. Nevermind that she was special, and Robby did treat her differently than other patients. He tried to distract her from his slip, “Your x-ray came back, wanna see?”

Grace gave him an odd look he didn’t know what to make of. He moved past McKay to pull up Grace’s x-ray on the tablet in his hand and show her, “Check it,” he traced the little line with his finger, “That’s quite the break.”

Grace considered his screen, “Nice. I knew it was busted. What do we do with that?”

“Gonna have to set it and cast it.” Langdon said. 

“Oh hell,” Grace muttered, “You better get someone in here to hold my hand.”

The curtain slid open. Robby frowned in the opening, “What are you doing?”

It could have been directed at any of them. McKay put up her hands and muttered something about intake before darting past him toward the charge station. Frank blinked at him. He couldn’t believe the timing, “We got Grace’s x-rays back. She needs to be set and cast.”

Robby frowned a little deeper. He held out his hand for the tablet and Frank gave it to him, “Shit.” He studied the tablet closely, “Have Princess set you up.”

Langdon nodded but Grace said sharply, “Langdon is not putting me in a cast.”

“You need one Gracie,” Robby said firmly. 

“Yeah, and that’s intern work at most! What if someone comes in and needs some sort of crazy procedure but you’ve got this guy layering plaster?”

“He’s your doctor.” 

“My Lanta,” Grace slapped her hand over her face, “Get a med student to do it. Isn’t this a teaching hospital? Come on guys, you’re both being absurd.”

Mostly Robby, Frank thought, but he didn’t say so. In fact, he would have preferred to be out of the bay and the argument altogether. He stood in awkward silence instead.

Robby crossed his arms. His posture was inflexible, “I’m not putting a med student within ten feet of your case.”

Grace licked her lip, “Fine.” She sat up very straight, “Then I guess my only option would be to refuse care and discharge myself.”

Robby made a sound like she had punched him. All the air whooshed from his lungs in a huff, “You have a broken arm Gracie,” His tone was disbelieving. 

“Yep,” Grace put her feet to the floor and stood, “And I’m sure they do great work at East Med.”

Robby didn’t just bend. He broke. His voice came out soft and he took two steps to almost touch her shoulder, “Please don’t do that. We’re just trying to make sure you get the best care. Our med students started last week. None of them have set a bone and I don’t want you to be their first.”

“Someone has to,” Grace said, “And I’m sure you won’t let them mess it up too badly. Then if Langer has to go save a life, he’s totally free to do that and I’m not stuck with half a cast.”

“Fine,” Robby muttered. He half turned and shoved the tablet toward Frank, “Get Whitaker.”

“I want a pink cast,” Grace said seriously, pointing a finger at him. 

“Sure thing, Grace.” Frank grabber the tablet and swished out from behind the curtain and into the corridor. It struck him as a little odd that Grace had never noticed just how twisted up Robby got when she was in the Pitt. But then, she had always been in the middle of dying. At the best of times she was only half-lucid either from painkillers or lack of oxygen. It was easy to forget because she always seemed so okay, joking and laughing anyway. 

He glanced around then drew up to the charge station, “Where’s Whitaker?” 

Evans’ eyebrows shot up, “What do you need him for?”

“Grace broke Robby. She wants a med student to cast her and he wants Whitaker.” It was the natural choice. Santos was too pushy, she would overstep a little and Robby would lose it. Javadi was too soft. She wouldn’t press hard enough and Robby would lose it. Whitaker was the Goldilocks of the three. He would set the arm, cast it properly, and not shake apart under Robby’s glare. Frank hoped, anyway. 

“No,” Evans made a face, “He’s the best one, what if Robby breaks him?”

Frank shrugged, “Then he shouldn’t be here.” Although it was a different animal to break under a patient’s case than it was to break under collegial scrutiny. He caught sight of the intern leaving a bay and waved, “Whit. Here.” He leant to speak to Princess, “Can you set up five for a cast? A pink one.”

Princess, who generally would have given him hell first, nodded and was gone to supply. 

Whitaker tossed his gloves and sanitized on his way across the corridor, “Yeah?”

“You’re setting a bone, and casting it.” He drew up the x-ray and held the image out, “Think you can manage?” Evans’ frowned from across the counter. 

“Sure.” Dennis answered, “I haven’t done it before but just support and align right?” He didn’t mention that he had set bones on a handful of farm animals. He didn’t think it would inspire confidence. 

“Yeah, here’s the thing,” Langdon lowered his voice and leaned in, like he was sharing bad news, “This patient, Grace Summers, she’s a special case. Lots of history around here. Robby is gonna have both eyes on you the whole time, and he isn’t going to be nice about it.”

Dennis frowned. In his experience, Robby had never not been nice. Or, maybe patient was the word? He didn’t hover, he didn’t yell, and he didn’t talk down to anyone. It was great. Nicer than his stint in OB where his attending had spent more time giving him hell than actually teaching. 

“I can handle it.” He said, because Langdon seemed to be waiting for an answer. He was sure he could. His dad hadn’t exactly been a gentle man, he hovered and yelled whenever Dennis didn’t manage a chore the way he wanted it done. It had given him a thick skin, and a drive to do things well. 

“Good. Let’s go.” Frank stalked back toward five where Princess had driven a cart of casting supplies. He flicked open the curtain, then shut it behind Dennis, “Grace, this is Dr. Whitaker.”

“Hi Grace,” Dennis smiled at her. She was pretty, with grey-blue eyes and a mischievous kind of smile. He glanced at Robby. Immediately the difference was clear. He had both arms crossed over his chest and was wearing an expression that bordered on a scowl. The temperature in the bay felt several degrees colder than the rest of the Pitt. 

“Nice to meet you,” Grace answered. Her tone was surprisingly bright, “You ready to realign my bones?”

“Absolutely,” he thought confidence might be the key with Robby staring a hole in the side of his head. He pulled a stool up from where it had been against the wall and sat, yanking on a pair of gloves. He went over the steps in his head as he took her arm gently and manipulated it in little movements. 

Grace made a hissing little ‘fff’ sound that might have been the start of a curse. 

“Stop.” Robby demanded. 

Dennis stopped. The order was icy. He was positive from the tone he’d done something wrong, and equally sure from his training that he hadn’t. 

“Why’re we stopping?” Grace asked. 

Dennis was pretty sure, and offered what he thought was the right explanation, “Because it’s going to hurt.”

“Oh,” Grace nodded, “Yeah, that’s fine, I’m used to it. Go ahead.” Robby made a noise and Grace looked at him over Dennis’ shoulder, “What? We can’t not do it, so it is fine.”

“Gracie,” Robby said. Dennis couldn’t see his face but his tone was weird . Langdon, who could see his face from the other side of the bed, shifted. 

“Robby,” Grace replied, and her tone was almost soothing, “Hold my hand or go away.”

Dennis shot a look at Langdon, who didn’t return it. There was no way Robby was going to sit and hold a patient's hand. It was totally inappropriate. He waited for the sound of the curtain. 

Robby stepped past Dennis on his left and sat on the edge of the bed. He offered Grace his hand. Immediately she took it, “Great. Nobody judge me when I cry.”

Dennis did his best to maintain a neutral expression. He was starting to suspect that Langdon had buried the lead on him. The patient didn’t just have history in the Pitt. She evidently had history with Robby in particular. “Ready?” He asked, taking a firm grasp of Grace’s swollen arm. 

“Yes.” Grace nodded and took a deep breath. She squeezed Robby’s hand. 

Dennis tried to ignore the frigid glare that was being directed at him. Langdon chewed his lip. With a hand on Grace’s, he pulled. He could feel the misaligned bone in his grasp shift and click into place. Grace didn’t make a sound, but tears sprang to her eyes and rolled down her face, “Good, all done.”

Langdon moved around the bed to take her hand and prod at her wrist, he nodded approvingly. 

Dennis hadn’t been in the Pitt very long, but tears were a dozen a day occurrence at least. Patients, families, and the occasional staff member all contributed to the count. It was tough to see, but the senior staff were rarely moved by them. Robby generally responded with the same soft, neutral expression. 

Not to Grace’s tears, it turned out. He looked like someone had tried to carve out a piece of him, and he was doing his best to keep it under wraps. He reached up and wiped at her cheek with the sleeve of his hoodie. 

Dennis was floored. There really was only one explanation for that kind of response from Robby. But based on what he knew about the man-

The curtain screeched open. Evans was already speaking rapidly, “Hit and run incoming, twelve year old patient, three minutes.”

“Fuck,” Langdon ran for the ambulance bay. 

“Fuck-“ Robby was half a second slower, he stood and squeezed Grace’s hand again. To Dennis he said, “Cast it and find me when you’re done. I’ll be back,” the last to Grace and then he was off running too. 

Dennis was a little relieved at the order to stay where he was. Twelve was too young. If the patient couldn’t be stabilized- he didn’t want to think about it. He watched Evans shoot him and Grace one last lingering look, then she closed the curtain and was gone too. 

Grace chewed her lip. She scrubbed a sleeve covered hand over her face, “I hope the kid’s okay.”

“Me too.” He agreed mildly. He picked up a handful of cotton backing, “How’d you break this?” He asked.

“Slipped on some stairs.” Grace answered, “I didn’t hit my head, if that’s your next question.”

He shook his head, frowning. He wasn’t sure why it would have been, there was nothing about her that suggested a concussion, and no physical evidence of her having hit her head. He pressed the cotton to her arm and turned her hand so her wrist faced up. He stalled. 

“It’s okay,” Grace said, her tone joking, “You’re going to get better at not making that face.” She gestured with a finger to his expression. 

Dennis tried to school his features, “I’m sorry.” He was glad that Robby was gone, positive that his slip would’ve gotten him banished from the bay. The gears in his head turned rapidly. History, Langdon had said. At least a little of it he had to assume was related to the white ridge of thick scar tissue on her wrist. It wasn’t long but it must have been deep, drawn downward in line with her ulna. 

Grace smiled at him. A little one that was less joking and more sad, “You better ask. Neither of those jokers did.” She tilted her head toward the curtain. 

Dennis licked his lip. In a low voice he asked, “Did you hurt yourself on purpose?” He had only been in the Pitt four shifts. Already he’d had two self-inflicted injuries. The scar on her wrist was a clear indicator that at one time, Grace had hurt herself too.

“No. I did not,” Grace answered. 

Maybe he was too trusting, but he believed her. He set to work on her cast again with slow motions meant to keep from jostling her injury. He wasn’t sure if he should ask or not.

“Do you have a question?”

Dennis looked at her. She had her eyebrows raised and a little smile back on her lips, “How can you tell?”

She gestured between her own eyebrows with a finger, “You have a line here. You can ask, I don’t mind.”

He was a little afraid that if he asked and she didn’t like the question, he’d be dealing with Robby. But he needed to and she didn’t seem upset that he had asked the first one, “You hurt yourself before?”

“Yes.” Grace watched him start layering plaster, “I had cancer.” Dennis thought that explained it, but she kept going, “In my second year of fighting it, things got really bad. I was so sick, but that was fine because I had my family.” She tapped the fingers of her free hand on her thigh, “Then my mom and brother got in an accident. They both died.”

Dennis froze, both hands still on her half-formed cast, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Grace clicked her tongue, “I missed the funeral because my lung collapsed. And then for a minute I forgot why I was bothering to try and stay alive. But-“ her phone buzzed on the blanket beside her and she reached for it, “Robby kept me from bleeding out, and I remembered life was worth living. Never hurt myself again.”

Dennis stared as she picked up her phone and frowned at the text she’d gotten. Robby had kept her from bleeding out. Robby who had barely been able to watch her get a bone set. Dennis returned to his work, slowly adding layers until she had a functional cast. Grace carried on texting rapidly with one hand, her mouth slowly turning downward into a deep frown. 

“All done,” he said finally. 

Grace put down the phone and inspected her cast, “Nice. I love it. Wanna sign your work?” 

He laughed, “Maybe later. I better clean up and let Robby know you’re finished. Get you discharged.”

“I wish,” she rolled her eyes, “I still need blood work and a head CT apparently.” At Dennis’ confused frown she said, “I know. I’m a waste of a perfectly good bed.”

She was . Robby never wasted space or time. He knew their value too well. Apparently Grace was the exception, “I’m sure they’re just being cautious, given your history.” Whatever the hell that was. 

“Yeah, right.” She hitched her feet up on the bed to lounge against the pillow, “Thanks for your hard work Dr. Whitaker.”

He gave her a smile and dragged the cart of supplies out through the curtain. He abandoned it against a wall to be cleared and went to meet Collins at the charge station, “Hey, Langdon’s broken arm in five?”

Heather glanced at Whitaker sidelong, absorbing his concerned frown, “Grace Summers.”

“You know her?” Whitaker spotted Santos lurking at a computer nearby and dropped his voice to almost a whisper. 

“Yes.” Heather had worked on Grace a half dozen times. She was lovely. Would have been a perfect patient if it weren’t for Robby, who made every one of her visits an anxiety ridden nightmare. 

“Why didn’t Langdon warn me her and Robby are together?” 

Heather’s eyebrows shot up, “They aren’t.”

“What?” Whitaker furrowed his eyebrows and frowned, “Then- they were though, weren’t they?”

“No.” Heather said firmly, “He was the doctor that diagnosed her case the first time she came in. They never dated.” But what did it say that Whitaker had spent five minutes in a room with the two of them a year after their last meeting and had been able to tell that there was something between them? Or at least something in Robby that spilled out all over whenever Grace was around. 

“But he-“ Whitaker half turned and pointed to the curtains that hid Grace. He turned back to Collins, “Really?”

“He was her doctor.” Heather said firmly, “It wouldn’t have been ethical.” It wasn’t to mention that Robby had fifteen years on Grace. It wouldn’t have made a lesser man hesitate, but Heather couldn’t imagine it sitting well with him. “Look, I know. There’s obviously something there, but it’s nobody's business, so keep your mouth shut and do your job.”

“I understand.” Whitaker mumbled. He didn’t move. 

“Job.” Heather prompted, “Now.”

Whitaker jumped, then made a break for the computer to chart his work. Heather watched him go. Evans wandered over from the opposite end of the counter, “Took him about five minutes. Sharp kid.”

“Dunno about that,” Heather muttered, “A blind man could see it.” She tapped her fingers on the counter in front of her. It had taken her a little while. Longer than Whitaker, but not as long as Langdon who had thought Robby’s foul attitude at the time was personal. A punishment for something he hadn’t realized he’d done. 

“You say that,” Evans remarked. She had her eyes pinned on the closed curtains across the corridor, “But I don’t know that Grace ever did.” 

Heather turned to stare, “What? There’s no way she didn’t.”

Evans shrugged. Her tone was gentle, “She was sick, and then she was sick and grieving. She was a complete mess, she was just good at hiding it.”

Heather knew that. It was how Grace had managed to slice open her wrist in the ER bathroom. Nobody had expected that she would ever do something so drastic when just a few minutes before, she had been telling Earl about the new shelter on Domingo. She had survived because Robby knew. Knew that something was wrong when she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Heather tried to reign in her thoughts. She didn’t want to remember how awful it had been. She could still hear the yell. The way Grace had looked, tear-streaked and covered in blood. The way Robby had looked, paper-white and equally soaked, when she’d been carted off to the OR. 

“She has to know.” Heather asserted.

Evans shook her head, “Grace never saw what we saw. And Robby never told her.”

Heather chewed the information. Grace, from the second she had stepped into the Pitt four years before, had Robby tied in knots. Wrapped neatly around her finger and sure to do whatever it took to keep her healthy and happy. Then she was better, and discharged, and off to return to the life she’d had before she’d gotten sick. And Robby had just let her go, apparently. Not said a word, because it wouldn’t have been right in his eyes, despite not having been her doctor for years. 

It was the right thing to do, Heather thought. For him to let her go. Let himself get over her and move on.

Except that he hadn’t. Not even a little bit. 

1:43

There was blood on his hoodie. Right at the edge of his sleeve where over an hour before he’d wiped tears off of Gracie’s face. 

Robby had worked in the Pitt nearly his entire career. It wasn’t exactly accurate to say that he liked it. He was good at it. It was important. He knew that he could help people with his work. He also knew when a patient was as good as gone. He could recognize it in the first few minutes after they came through the door. He had known, the second he saw the kid on the gurney that he wasn’t going to make it. 

It didn’t stop them, never stopped them, from trying anyway. They pulled the kid back from the edge twice, and couldn’t manage it the third time. It hit the way it always did when the patient was a little too young, a horrible yawning despair that rose up and threatened to eat away his heart. He let it sit in him while they stood in silence in the trauma bay.

King was crying, big silent tears rolled down her face. She had her lips clamped shut like she was fighting the urge to sob. It was tough to watch. The look on Langdon’s face was worse. The kid had looked, Robby thought, a little like Tanner. Not a lot, but they had the same mess of brown hair. It was enough to crack him open.

It wasn’t any of their first experiences with a patient dying. It wasn’t even their first experience of the day. It was the worst. Worst of the day, worst of the week. Maybe worst for a while. 

Robby took a breath, “Alright. Everyone take a break.” He moved for the doors. Pressed a firm hand to Langdon’s shoulder on his way by, “Call home.” It was supposed to help, connecting with someone after a difficult case. Even if Langdon didn’t say what had happened, hearing the voice of his wife or his son would soothe a little of the ache. The little ‘what if’ that survived in one’s head after a patient died.

Robby shoved through the door, King on his heels. He watched her dart toward the ambulance bay doors. He thought he should follow, check in and make sure she was okay, and didn’t think he could manage it right that second. Not when he wasn’t okay. He unzipped his hoodie instead and shucked it off. He found the nearest trash can and shoved it inside, positive that there would be no putting it back on, even if the blood washed out. 

He stared at the wall in front of him. There was a poster, something about handwashing, but he couldn’t read it properly. The hurt in his chest made his head swim weirdly. 

He knew what he wanted to do. 

He couldn’t. Shouldn’t. 

The fact that he’d had the thought at all, was entirely fucked . 

He licked his lip. 

His feet moved. Disconnected from his brain and the screeching knowledge that he fucking shouldn’t. How many lines did it cross? Any fewer if he kept his hands to himself? What if he kept his mouth shut? He stopped at the line of the curtain, his hand halfway up to grab it. Inappropriate, he thought. He was going to end up getting fired. But wouldn’t that solve the problem? He ducked through the curtain. 

Gracie was sitting against the pillows on the bed, her legs stretched in front of her. Her bright pink cast nearly matched her sweater. She had her arm up, resting on the top of her head, and the other hand wrapped around the cell-phone pressed to her ear, “I’m hearing you Joanne, but what I’m not hearing is a legitimate reason behind your sudden change in operating policy.”

What did it say about him, Robby wondered, that the sight of her, the sound of her voice, soothed the horrible ache in his heart? Just a little. Just enough. Her voice was firm and even. There were no gasping breaths between her words, the way there used to be. She was still pale, but there were no near-black bruises under her eyes. She was okay. She wasn’t dying anymore.

She was beautiful.

Her eyes were on his face. She sat up straight and hiked up the leg closest to him, tucking it neatly against her opposite thigh, “Look Joanne, I have to go, but I will be calling back and I suggest you sort things out before I do.” She hit the screen with her thumb to end the call and dropped the phone beside her, “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” His throat felt dry, but the word came out fine, “Of course.”

Gracie’s blue-grey eyes flicked across his face, then down to his chest, “You don’t have to lie.”

Was he lying? He hadn’t been okay before he stepped through the curtain but he felt a little better with his eyes on her, “I’m fine. How’s your cast?”

Gracie patted the bed in front of her leg and dropped the arm that was still hitched up on the top of her head, “Your boy did good work, look how pretty it is.”

He knew. He fucking knew he shouldn’t do it. But he stepped forward and sat in front of her anyway, his hip nearly touching her shin. He reached up to catch the pink plaster and inspected it closely, “Good. How’s it feel?”

“A little sore but I think I’m gonna make it.” She grinned at him, “Now if only I could convince my doctor I don’t need a head CT so I could go home.” She pulled her hand from his grip and pressed her partly-covered fingers to her opposite hand in an awkward prayer gesture, “Please?”

Robby felt his mouth twitch into half a smile, “Too bad I’m not your doctor. Not my call.” 

Gracie let out a little ‘tsk’ and rolled her eyes, “Yeah, right. Everything that happens in this place is your call. You had Langer ordering bloodwork and he didn’t even know why.”

“Iron deficient anemia can cause lightheadedness and fainting. Might make a person fall down a flight of stairs.” He answered. Langdon would know that, he just might not have known how cold Gracie’s hands were because he hadn’t been holding them.

“I didn’t fall down a flight of stairs. I was on the second one from the bottom and I slipped. I landed on my arm, and probably bruised my butt, but I definitely didn’t faint, and I didn’t hit my head.” Gracie explained rapidly, “I take my vitamins everyday. I’m not anything deficient.” 

“Sure about that?” Robby asked lightly, “Cause your hands are frozen.”

Gracie slapped both palms to her face, “They aren’t! See?” She reached out and pressed her fingers to his cheeks.

Robby closed his eyes. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. Her hands on his skin, sliding across the stubble on his jaw, were freezing. It might’ve been unpleasant in a different circumstance but he felt strangely warm, her hands soothing a little more of the ugly thing in his stomach. It was beyond unprofessional, but he wanted her to keep her hands on him. Didn’t want to move ever again if it would take him out of her arms reach. Slowly he managed to open his eyes again. He reached up and caught her hands in his and removed them to the space between them, pressing them together in his left, “They’re freezing Gracie.” Before he could think to stop himself he reached up and slid his thumb across her cheek. One step forward and two steps back, “You can’t tell because the rest of you is freezing too.” Gracie blinked at him. Her mouth fell open. He realized his mistake and pulled his hand away, but it was too late. There was no taking the gesture back.

He didn’t know what he expected her to say but her tone was curious when she muttered, “Am I? I honestly can’t tell most of the time. Guess I should’ve worn an extra layer.”

“I’ll get you a blanket,” he looked at her hands, still in his. He knew he should let go and didn’t. 

“How about some lunch?” She suggested, “Think you can sneak away for twenty minutes?”

Robby glanced at her. She had a grin back on her face and wiggled her eyebrows at him. He felt settled, “No,” he answered honestly, “I can’t remember the last time I made it out of here for lunch.”

Gracie looked outraged, “Not even to the cafeteria? That’s ridiculous.”

“That cafeteria food will kill you Gracie.” He slid his thumb over the back of her hand where plaster met skin. 

“Are you joking?” Her outrage grew, “Have you had the fries?”

He had, “You know that fryer probably hasn’t been cleaned. Ever.”

Gracie nodded, “That’s what makes them so fucking good!”

“Oh my God,” he muttered, “How about I find you a salad? Something with some nutritional value, maybe?”

“Absolutely not,” she twisted her hands and he let go, but instead of taking them back she turned them, palms out from each other so that she could grip his tightly, “I would rather fall down some more stairs.”

“So you admit, you fell down the stairs.”

“Your honor, I plead the fifth.” 

Her tone was laughing and it was enough to make him smile. He couldn’t be properly happy until he knew for sure that she had just slipped. That there was no little spot on her CT, and no malignant spikes in her blood work. But with her hands gripping his and the smile on her face, he got pretty close. 

He took a breath. He had a whole Emergency Department outside the safety of the curtain, full of other patients and heartsick doctors. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew he had to go, “I’ll have someone to get you some food okay? Will you please stay put?”

“Are you honestly scared I’m gonna collapse in the hallway or something?” She asked. 

“No,” he shook his head minutely, “I just want to know where to find you.” 

“Okay,” she took a deep breath and let it whistle out past her lips, “I’ll stay put. I promise.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed her hands one more time, and let go. He hauled himself off the bed and walked away. Out into the noise and the mess of the Pitt. He could see Langdon in an empty trauma bay, the door closed, one arm crossed over his chest and his phone pressed to his ear. He couldn’t see King. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went to the charge station, “Dana?”

“Yeah?” Dana pulled her glasses down her nose and surveyed Robby over them. She always checked for signs of stress on him after a difficult loss, knew how to spot it even when he refused to open up. It was there, in the line of his shoulders, but not as badly as she had expected. 

Robby rubbed a hand over his jaw. He looked somewhere over her head at the board, “Can you see who’s on Gracie’s paperwork for an emergency contact?”

Dana went cold. She pulled her glasses off entirely and set her hand beside her keyboard, “Why? She’s fine isn’t she? We can discharge her under her own power.”

“Yeah,” Robby agreed quietly, “But she’s gonna be here awhile. Might be nice if someone could bring her some food. An extra sweater.”

Dana’s heart ached. They didn’t need to call anyone but he wanted to, just to make sure she was taken care of. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him what the paperwork said, “I can find her something.”

Robby frowned. His eyes flicked down from the board and landed on her, “You’re busy Dana.”

“Not that busy,” she replied. Too fast. 

Robby straightened up. His hands left his pockets to grip the edge of the counter, “You already looked.”

Dana fidgeted. “Yeah.” The two of them stared at each other. Dana and Robby had known each other, worked together, for a very long time. Robby knew her kids. And Dana knew, because he had told her, covered in blood and hardly able to breathe, that he loved Grace. 

“Right.” He broke their staring contest to look across the room, his eyes tracked King on her way toward the North end, “Call him.”

“Call-“ 

“Yeah. Whoever the guy is. Call him.” 

Oh, Dana realized, Robby thought she didn’t want to say because Grace was seeing someone. That the name on the form was a man she was dating. It was so much worse than that, “I don’t have to.”

Robby shifted, “Why not?”

“He knows.”

“He knows.” Robby repeated slowly. There was anger in his tone, low and simmering, “So where the fuck is he?”

Dana thought it was a good thing there was no guy. She would have hated for Robby to get arrested when he punched the imaginary boyfriend for not being good enough. She wondered if that would be preferable to reality, “Right here.” Dana pointed at him. 

Robby stared at her hand. His eyebrows crashed together in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Reluctantly Dana opened her mouth, “It's your name. On her paperwork. She must’ve changed it after her last admittance.”

Robby opened his mouth. Then shut it. After a long minute he asked, voice gritty, “Why would she do that?”

“I dunno,” Dana answered. She fidgeted with the glasses in her hands, “Because you took care of her for years? Because she trusts you?“ Robby looked awful. Like the knowledge had pried something loose inside him and whatever it was hurt . Dana didn’t want him to get hurt anymore, but she thought the next bit deserved to be said, “Because you’d drop everything to make sure she got some lunch and an extra sweater?”

Robby turned to fix his eyes on the curtain that surrounded central five, “But she- She knows-“

“We‘ve got an amputation incoming!” Collins shouted, darting by in the direction of the ambulance bay. 

Robby started. He took one step, then stopped. It was the most she had ever seen him hesitate. 

“Go. I’ll take care of Grace,” Dana promised. He took her word and moved, was gone to meet the trauma team and didn’t look back. She had lied. She was busy, but she couldn’t look at the thing on Robby’s face and not promise to take care of things. Not when there was a problem she could solve. 

She caught Matteo’s arm on her way to the lounge. He already had a sweater on and an AirPod in, “Hey, you goin’ for lunch at The Moose?”

“Yeah,” he looked suspicious, like she was going to ask him to stay. 

She produced a bill instead, “Get me something with avocado on it?”

Matteo took the bill with a confused look and a muttered, “Sure?” Then continued off down the hall. 

Dana carried on to the lounge. She fixed a cup of tea with the expensive bags labeled ‘Abbot’ in scrawled sharpie. He would be annoyed but that was okay. Then she grabbed a blanket from the warmer and made her way back across the Pitt to central five. 

Grace had turned herself upside down. Her sock feet were on top of the headboard and she had her phone held above her face. She twisted awkwardly to look at Dana and beamed, “Dana! How are you?” She hiked her feet up to sit properly. 

“Fantastic. How are you, sweetheart?”

“Oh just peachy.” and she did seem well. Her eyes had lost the red tinge from crying and her smile was wide and genuine. 

Dana offered her the mug in her hand and said conspiratorially, “Brought you some of Abbot’s good tea.” 

“Thanks!” Grace took the mug and sniffed it, “Is he around? I haven’t seen him.”

“No,” Thank God, Dana thought. If there was anything worse than Robby in the ER with Grace, it was Robby and Abbot fighting in the ER because of Grace, “He’s on nights.”

Grace took a sip of her tea, “That’s too bad. I would’ve liked to say hi.”

“Well hopefully you’re not here long enough to do it.” Dana shook out the blanket in her hand and wrapped it across Grace’s shoulders, “Your blood work get done?”

Grace shrugged, “They took it. It was Bart, I swear that guy has never found a vein on the first try in his life.”

Dana grimaced. Bart was notoriously not great, “Don’t tell Robby that.”

“Right.” Grace set the mug on her knee and twisted her casted fingers in the edge of the blanket, “Dana?”

“Yeah?” She could hear, distantly, someone calling her. She glanced at the curtain. 

“Why did I never notice?”

It was Santos. Santos never called for anyone. She was too full of herself. There must have been a problem, “Notice what?”

Grace met Dana’s eyes, “The way Robby acts. With me.” 

Dana’s stomach swooped toward her feet. It was nice, she thought distantly, to be proven right. She could tell Collins. Just as much as she hadn’t wanted to spill the beans to Robby, she didn’t want to give Grace an answer. But there was steel in the woman’s eyes. She opened her mouth, “You were sick. And he was better at hiding it.” Not by much, but enough to keep it out of Grace’s line of sight. 

Grace chewed her lip. There was something on her face, an emotion that Dana couldn’t quite make sense of. Santos called her name again, “I’ve got to run Grace.”

“Yeah,” Grace gave her a little smile, “Nice seeing you. And thanks.”

Dana shot one more look back at her and ducked through the curtain. 

Santos, it turned out, had lost a patient. Not lost as in they had died, but lost as in they had disappeared somewhere in the ER in the worlds worst game of hide and seek. Dana spent twenty minutes scouring the halls, and didn’t find the girl, who was only seven. 

Matteo came back and Dana didn’t want to waste time but also really didn’t want to get cornered by another question from Grace. She half-shouted across the Pitt instead, “Mel!”

“Yes?” The woman swerved to meet her at the charge station. She seemed a little better than she had an hour before, but not a lot. The loss of the twelve-year-old had cracked her. 

Dana thought the errand might be good for her. She set the paper bag on the counter, “Deliver this to central five for me?” The phone rang and she picked it up, “Yeah? No we need a-“ 

Mel had a follow up question, but Evans was obviously busy so she didn’t ask it. She picked up the paper bag instead and started toward five. She had been having a pretty bad day. They had lost a patient. A young patient. She hadn’t been able to keep the tears in and now everyone would probably think she was incompetent. She slid past the curtain. 

The woman sitting on the edge of the bed was pretty. She had her legs stretched in front of her and a mug half full of tea in her hand. She glanced up from the phone on her thigh that she was swiping idly at, “Hey. You’re new.”

Mel’s stomach lurched but the woman didn’t seem upset about it, “I’m Doctor King, Nurse Evans asked me to bring you this?” She held out the paper bag. 

The woman tilted her head and took it, “I’m Grace. Resident?” She flipped up the edges and looked in the bag, “Oh, nice!”

It took Mel a second to realize she was being asked if she was a resident, “Yes. Second year.”

“That’s cool. How are you liking emergency medicine?” 

“It’s good,” Mel answered automatically, “Interesting. I like helping people.” 

Grace nodded, “I think that means you’ll be good at it.” She pulled a paper package from the bag and unwrapped a sandwich, “Guac? Hell yeah. Dana is the best.” She glanced up, grinning, “I think I said the same thing about Collins earlier though so maybe don’t tell anyone.” 

“I won’t,” Mel replied. She tried to decide from the look of Grace, what she was waiting for. She had a cast and wasn’t hooked up to any monitors. Was she waiting for imaging still? Why?

“What’s with the hubbub?” Grace gestured to the Pitt at large.

“Um,” Mel wasn’t entirely sure she should answer but figured the information wasn’t privileged, “A little girl got lost? Her mom thinks she’s playing hide and seek.”

Grace’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not.”

Grace chewed her lip, “Has anyone checked the alcove behind the vending machines?” 

Mel frowned, “What alcove?” 

“It’s over- shoot.” She gestured in the direction of the lobby, “I’d show you but Robby made me promise to stay put. The vending machines, like halfway to the lobby? They don’t fit properly into the wall and if you’re little you can crawl in behind them.”

That was bizarre information. Why had Robby made this woman promise to stay put? And why did she know that a person could crawl behind the vending machines? She opened her mouth to ask, “Why-“

Grace shook her head, “Please don’t ask. It wasn’t my finest moment.” She thought about it for a minute, “Although if Abbot ever gives you a hard time, you can ask him about it.”

Mel hadn’t yet worked with Abbot. She had met him a handful of times. He always seemed grouchy, like he didn’t want to be in the building and any optimism that reached his ears caused him pain, “Thanks?” She gestured toward the Pitt, “I’m gonna go check it out.”

“Good luck. If you don’t find her, come back. I’ll try and think of some more hiding spots.” Grace took a bite of her lunch. 

Mel nodded, her lips pressed together. She really didn’t understand why this patient would know her way around the Pitt well enough to be able to list hiding spots off hand. She supposed it didn’t really matter. She ducked out from behind the curtain. 

Santos was at the charge station talking to Robby. She looked closer to tears than Mel had ever seen and Robby looked tense. Irritated. Or maybe worried. She couldn’t quite tell and the expressions were close enough she didn’t think she’d be able to puzzle it out. She turned to head toward the cafeteria. 

The hallways were buzzing. It had only been thirty minutes but all of the nursing staff had been informed and were sweeping the rooms and the halls rapidly. It wouldn’t be much longer before the decision would have to be made to lock down the hospital so a proper search could be done. The girl was only seven, in the Pitt in the first place for a seizure disorder that could put her in active danger wherever she was hiding. 

There were two vending machines in the hall. The one on the left contained a few dozen kinds of chips and candy. The one on the right had soda and water. Mel thought it was nonsensical that they were in the building at all. It took her a second of intentional looking to notice the gap on the left side of the snack machine.

Mel pulled her phone from her pocket and swiped the flashlight on before holding it up to the gap. The alcove was bigger than it had any right to be. She couldn’t really blame the girl for thinking it was a fun place to play. 

3:08

“Mel.”

The young woman turned and offered him a little smile. She diverted her course, tablet pressed to her chest, to meet him at the computer, “Yes?”

“You doing alright?” Robby asked, voice low. 

“Yes. Totally.” Mel nodded, “I know I sort of lost my cool for a second, but I’ve got it under control I promise.”

Robby frowned. He didn’t want her to think she was in trouble for crying. It was a natural response to what had been a horrible situation. She had even managed not to do it in front of any patients, or any family members. He was honestly a little impressed, “It’s alright, Mel. It’s okay to be affected by the things we see. It’s important to be able to shake it off and do the job, but we aren’t robots.”

Mel nodded. She didn’t quite meet his eyes, “I understand.”

Robby nodded slowly, but he didn’t think she did. He tapped a few keys then remarked, “Good work finding the kid, by the way. How’d you know where she was?”

“Oh, Dr. Langdon’s broken arm?” Mel gestured toward central, “She told me to check behind the vending machines.” She pursed her lips for a second, “Kind of weird that she knew there was a space there. Has she worked here?”

Robby blinked at Mel. Why had she been talking to Gracie? And why did Gracie know there was a space behind the vending machines? “No,” he managed to say, “She hasn’t.”

“Huh,” Mel muttered. She glanced at her tablet, and then was off toward the south end. 

Robby didn’t look toward Gracie’s bed. He focused on the chart he was working on instead. Then he did a lap. He saw the parents of the seven-year-old girl who had gotten lost. Talked to the family of an elderly woman with dementia. Watched Santos diagnose a broken leg. Watched Collins inflate a collapsed lung. Got distracted three times by questions from nursing staff, and once by Earl who wanted a sandwich. He made it to the washroom, and actually got to use it. 

He avoided looking at central five, because if he looked he would be drawn toward it like an asteroid to the earth. He couldn’t help it. He was all caught up in Gracie’s gravity, doomed to be pulled closer and burned up on approach. 

Why the fuck had she made him her emergency contact?

He hadn’t seen her in a year. Not since she was declared to be in remission and discharged from the fourth floor. She had met him in the lobby to say goodbye. She had cried when she said it. He was positive that he would never see her again. 

He might’ve understood it, if she didn’t have anyone else to put on the form, but she did. She had a father. They didn’t get along well, Gracie had spent a not-insignificant amount of time avoiding the man, even when she was trapped in the hospital, but he had visited. Put a significant effort into making sure Gracie got the best care she could. 

She had friends, too. A half dozen that had visited occasionally, and one that visited all the time. Her name was Max. She had red hair and a nose ring and visited every other evening that Robby recalled. It was Max that showed up at the ER to pick Gracie up on the rare occasion she’d been admitted but didn’t need to stay. 

Gracie could have put Max on the form. Her friend would have shown up for her if it was required, Robby was positive about that. 

But she had put his name. 

Why had she put his name?

It was eating him up. He needed to know. But he couldn’t ask. What if he did and she told him? 

The conversation could go so wrong. He had been able to let Gracie go once, content that she was well and going home to live her life. He thought he could let her go again, but that it might just kill him if their second goodbye went sour. 

He chewed on the question. He couldn’t do it. Had to. It would tear him apart. But so would keeping it in. He was so anxious he thought he might just rattle apart.

“What is wrong with you?” Collins asked, her expression concerned.

Robby shook his head. He couldn’t answer. He ducked behind the desk, dug in a drawer for a piece of gum and shoved it in his mouth.

Collins stared. She tapped one finger on the edge of the counter. Then she said slowly, “You know, I asked her once why she kept coming back.”

“What’re you talking about?” Robby muttered. He surveyed the board. It was emptier than usual. Why was it that when he needed a distraction, everyone in the city suddenly remembered their knife safety skills?

“Her place is on the corner of Redmayne and Fifth,” Collins said, “Equal distance between us and East Med.”

The gum in his mouth might as well have been chalk. He clamped his teeth together and looked at Collins properly.

“She could pick. Their Oncology Department blows ours out of the water for comfort, they got a total retrofit six years ago.” Collins tapped her finger some more. Then she said something really mean, “She said she liked knowing you were in the building.”

Robby’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. What did that mean ? But Collins wasn’t going to tell him, she had already turned and was walking away toward the south end and a new case. He couldn’t stay where he was, he could feel the gravity growing behind his back like a black hole. He turned and made his way to five. He knew he would have to say something when he stepped through the curtain, and had no idea what it would be. He could feel the words all tangled together somewhere behind his ribs, ready to spill out all at once and he wouldn’t know what the message was until they were out. He took a huge breath and ducked through the curtain. 

The words fizzled away and left him empty. 

Gracie was lying on her side under a blanket. Her casted hand was tucked under her chin. Her hair was half across her face. Despite the noise of the Pitt, she was asleep. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, she used to sleep in the Pitt all the time, but she had been sick and on half a dozen different medications. He didn’t understand how she could still do it. He crossed the floor slowly and sank onto the stool beside her bed. It wasn’t the first time he sat near her, just for the sake of being close. It was one of the worst. What would she think, he wondered, if she woke up and found him there?

“They find that kid?” Her voice was low and gravely from sleep and she didn’t open her eyes. 

His heart lurched uncomfortably, “Yeah.” He kept his voice just as quiet, “Right where you said she’d be.” Gracie made a pleased little humming sound that reverberated through his ribs, “How’d you know?”

“I used to play hide and seek with Fischer,” Gracie answered, “But only at night.”

Robby remembered Fischer. He’d been eleven or twelve and had a particularly nasty heart defect. He was often in the ER for lack of oxygen in one way or another because his heart didn’t pump blood correctly. He’d had a transplant, years ago, and Robby hadn’t seen him since. 

“Abbot hated it,” Gracie muttered. 

Robby huffed a laugh. Abbot had hated a lot of things during the three years Gracie was sick. Mostly that Robby had been too fucking involved. Abbot knew exactly what Robby was doing, they’d had a dozen screaming matches about it in the stairwell, Abbot telling Robby he was dangerously over the line of what was appropriate and that he needed to step back. Robby insisting that he had never crossed an ethical boundary. He’d lied through his teeth of course, and Abbot had known, but he never reported it. 

Robby had hated every night that Gracie spent in the ED. There was no excuse for him to stay so he would go home, eat whatever was in his fridge despite it tasting like sawdust, and lie in bed staring at the ceiling until it was morning and he could go back.

“Why’d you put me on your paperwork Gracie?” He almost choked on her name. He hadn’t meant to ask, it just slipped out. 

“What paperwork?” Her eyebrows scrunched together but she didn’t open her eyes. 

Robby couldn’t open his mouth and answer her. She didn’t remember. She must’ve done it half-stoned on painkillers and then forgotten. It didn’t mean anything at all. It felt like a knife was carving up through his ribs. 

“Oh, my contact thing?” Her casted hand slid up and she rubbed her eyes, “When I was sick you made me feel better.”

The blade stopped carving, “I’m a doctor Gracie. That’s my job.”

“Not like that ,” Gracie said, like he was being absurd. She dropped her hand and fixed him with her blue-grey eyes, “Like when you’re a kid and no matter what’s wrong, a hug from your mom makes it better.” She blinked, then her cheeks turned red, “Wow, what a super weird thing to say. What I meant is that I liked having you around. I do, still. Like having you around.” 

Robby stared. The blush on her face stood out, pretty and warm against the pale white of her skin. The anxiety in his chest fell away and was replaced with a ballooning warmth. He was sure when it burst, the pain would kill him. 

“Sorry, am I making this worse?” Gracie asked. 

“No,” he shook his head slowly. 

“I probably should have given you a heads up. Can you imagine if you were out on a date or something and got a call from the ER to pick up some girl?” She shoved up to sit with her good hand. Her tone was joking but she didn’t quite look at him. 

“Wouldn’t be a problem,” he muttered. 

“No? You only date extremely understanding people?” Gracie grinned at him. 

It felt like he was confessing something, “I don’t date.” It was true, he hadn’t been on a date in years. Not since his last relationship had fallen apart with a series of truly spectacular dramatics. He’d learned his lesson. People liked to say they understood his job was demanding but they didn’t really. They swore up and down they could handle it, the hours and the fatigue and the depression, but they couldn’t. Not for any significant length of time, that had been proven.

Gracie frowned. She chewed her lip briefly, “Is that like, a rule?” 

It was like being struck by lightning. It cracked through him and left sparks in his fingertips. He opened his mouth to answer-

The curtain slid open. 

Frank wished he could turn back the clock about thirty seconds, and fucking not. He should’ve walked right on by and checked on his pencil-guy instead. But it was too fucking late, despite the look on Robby’s face like he wanted Frank dead. He held up the tablet in his hand, “Got your labs Grace.”

The expression on Robby’s face changed. His eyebrows crashed together and his frown stayed but he pulled his glasses from his pocket and held out his hand. Frank slapped the tablet into it.

Grace rolled her eyes, “What’s the verdict Langer?”

“All your labs from Ortner are clear-”

“Told you.” Grace said, fixing him with a stern look.

“And no negative indicators or deficiencies in your blood work.”

“Told you!” Grace burst, shoving an accusing finger toward Robby’s face.

Robby caught the offending digit with his free hand and swiped at the tablet in the other with his thumb, “Must be a circulation problem. You should order-”

“No.” Grace said flatly, “I will seriously walk if you order anything else.”

Frank nodded, “That seems fair. Shouldn’t be long on the CT now.” Robby shot him an acidic look, “Follow up with Ortner about the circulation thing?”

“Oh!” Grace beamed, “Good compromise, Langer. I’ll do that. Look, I’ll put a reminder in my phone right now,” she picked up her phone, then put it down, “Nevermind, it’s super dead. Anyone got a pen?”

Still frowning, Robby released her hand and fished in his pocket for a felt-tip. He offered it to her. Instead of taking it, Grace pulled her sleeve back from her cast and held it out. Robby sighed, then pulled the cap and scrawled across the bright pink plaster. 

Grace let him finish, then angled her arm awkwardly to read his writing, “Wow. Terrible penmanship. We better hope I don’t forget what this is supposed to say because there is no way-”

There was a crash and a shriek, then Santos and Whitaker were both yelling for help. Any of those things together would have been motivating, but all four together had Frank off like a shot, Robby at his heels. 

5:16

Samira had a bone to pick . Slow-mo they called her, when they thought she couldn’t hear. The name followed her around the ER as she worked up patients and typed up charts. Nearly every day she had to listen to Robby lecture her on how many patients she had seen and how many more she should be managing. She had to hear endlessly about timeliness and turning over beds and taking brief histories. 

And yet, fucking Langdon had kept a bed the entire day for a broken arm. She had watched him and Robby roll through central five a half dozen times, but the diagnostic on the board hadn’t changed. What the hell kind of history was he taking, she wondered, that he had spent what seemed like half his day on one patient? And why wasn’t Robby giving him shit for it?

Was it just her that Robby had a problem with? What had she done to earn his attention? 

Samira slapped her hands down on the counter beside Langdon’s computer. He started and glanced at her sideways. His eyes flicked from her scowl to her hands and back, “Mohan. What’s up?”

There was no point in beating around the bush, “What’s going on with your broken arm in five?” 

Langdon stopped typing. He turned to look at her properly, his lips pressed into a thin line, “What are you asking me?”

“A broken bone doesn’t necessitate a bed for the entire day, so why is Robby giving me hell about expediency and letting you take up hospital resources for something that should take an hour?”

Langdon stared at her. He gave a tiny shake of his head, “Don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?” Her outrage ballooned

“You’re gonna jinx it.” Langdon hissed. He glanced over his shoulder like he was expecting to be set upon by some kind of monster. 

“Jinx what?” She snarled. 

“Dr. Mohan,” Collins drew up beside them, her tone low and commanding, “What seems to be the problem?”

“I was just wondering,” Samira announced loudly. She ignored the rapid shake of Langdon’s head, “Why Langdon has been taking up a bed the entire day for a broken arm."

Langdon threw up his hands. Collins made a strangled shushing noise, “Stop! You’re going to jinx it!”

“Jinx what ?”

For the second time that day, Frank marveled at the universe’s timing. The man in the suit strode directly through the doors, Gloria hot on his heels, and yelled, “Where is my daughter?”

“Fuuuuck,” Frank muttered, “You jinxed it.”

Declan Summers had to be pushing seventy, but had traded either money or his soul for a surprisingly sturdy (if short) frame, and a voice that could cut through all the noise of the ER and stop everyone in their tracks. A little because of the sheer gravitas in his accented voice, and a little because they were all terrified if they didn’t jump at it he would fire them. 

The staff in the Pitt did their best to take care of Grace because of Robby. The rest of the hospital did it, because Declan Summers owned forty-three percent of the building. 

There was a barely audible flurry of something in what might’ve been Swedish, though Frank had never asked, and the curtain to five rattled open, “Dad, what the hell?”

The man strode across the Pitt, scrambling a handful of nurses and one patient, “My child is admitted and left in this hole to rot?” He snarled, “Where is-“ he snapped his fingers. 

“Robinavitch,” Gloria supplied. She looked nervous. 

Frank would have bet money Declan Summers knew Robby’s name. He shot a nervous glance toward Dana, who was already darting out from the charge station. It would be extremely bad, if Robby was in the room with the old man. 

“Robinavitch, joke of a department, should be fired , and you should be upstairs-“ he was muttering angrily but the words carried across the entire Pitt. 

”Stop,” Grace said, and her voice was nothing like the laughing rapid tone she usually used. It was all ice and gravitas like her father’s. The man did stop, briefly, and it was enough for Grace to let out a violent tirade in- Icelandic? Frank wasn’t great at languages. 

“Grace Maria-“ the man tried to cut in. 

Grace waved her casted arm and kept talking. Her volume rose, and so did the speed of her words. 

“Like fucking Beetlejuice,” Collins hissed under her breath. 

Declan tried to interject with his own flurry of- Welsh? But Grace switched to English, seemingly mid-sentence, to say, “if you do not leave right now, I swear on my mother’s grave.” She looked extremely serious. 

“Mr. Summers.”

“Fuuuuuck,” Frank hissed. He watched Robby stalk down the corridor, Dana on his heels looking panicked. 

“You heard my patient. I’m afraid if you don’t leave I’ll need to have security remove you.” Robby set his feet in front of Declan and stared him down. 

Collins made an alarmed noise. Frank marveled at the sheer fucking balls Robby had, to threaten to eject a part-owner of the hospital he worked in. 

“Robinavitch,” Declan snarled, “I think I’ll have you fired-“

Dana squeaked. Both hands shot up to cover her mouth. 

“How did you know I was here, Dad?” Grace asked loudly. 

“They called,” the old man spat. 

“No they didn’t.” Grace crossed her arms over her chest, “Because you aren’t on my emergency paperwork. So how did you know I was here?”

The old man turned very slowly to look at her. 

“Surely, my right to medical confidentiality was not breached by someone in your hospital,” her eyes flicked over his shoulder to Gloria, who flinched, “Because that would give me grounds to sue. Let me see, based on the documentation filed during your divorce, I’ll bet I can make a hell of a claim. What percentage of the hospital do you think you’ll have to sell to pay for it? Market value- old facilities, awful Press-ganey, I’m thinking thirty-two?”

Declan looked like he’d been slapped. 

Grace raised her eyebrows, “How’s that for quick math? You wanna find out?”

Lowly the man let out a stream of- Turkish? 

“Then call me. Do not do this.” Grace replied, “Go.”

Very slowly, the man bent. He muttered a handful more words, then turned and disappeared toward the elevators. The whole department seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Robby took two steps to touch Grace’s arm. He said something, then Dana had a leading hand on Grace’s shoulder and steered her off. 

Frank slapped both hands over his face, “I can’t believe you did that!” He groaned. 

“What the hell just happened?” Mohan asked. 

“That man owns half the hospital,” Collins explained rapidly, “If he finds his kid in the Pitt at all, much less in the hall in a chair , he threatens to shut down the whole department. It’s a miracle we’re still open with the way Robby argues with him-“

“Collins!” Javadi shouted, scrambling down the hall from the north end. Collins frowned and took off to meet her. 

6:12

“Grace!” Frank yanked back the curtain to central five. 

Grace was lying face up on the bed, frowning at the roof. She lifted her head to look at him, “What up, Langer?”

He hefted the tablet in his hand, “Your CT’s clear!” 

Grace shot up, “Are you joking?”

“You’re going home!”

“Thank God!” She shot off the bed and shoved her dead phone in her hoodie pocket, “I need out of here, the shame of my father’s tantrum is genuinely killing me.”

“It’s not your fault he’s nuts,” Frank said. 

“No, but unfortunately I am the catalyst.” Grace followed him out of the bay and toward the discharge desk, “Where’s Robby?”

Frank waved his hand, “Double trauma. He’s gonna be a while.” He stopped and opened his mouth, then shut it. He took two steps, then stopped again. 

Grace nearly ran into his back, “What’re you doing?”

Frank chewed the question, “Do you- uh- want to wait for him?”

“What?” Grace asked. She blinked at him, “No, I want out of this building.”

Something squeezed uncomfortably behind Frank’s ribs, “Right. Sure. Let’s get you out of here.” He set his feet toward discharge and Grace followed. He knew she knew where it was, and was more than capable of doing the paperwork herself, but he lingered anyway. He half watched her scribble on her forms, and half watched the door to the Pitt. 

Robby didn’t appear in the doorway, and Frank's heart sank. 

“I gave you a ten,” Grace murmured in mock conspiracy. 

Frank grinned, “Thanks Grace. It was good to see you.”

“You too Langer. Maybe next time I won’t need medical attention at all,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him. 

“I hope so.”

One step at a time, she backed toward the door, “Tell everyone I say bye,” she waved, “And get a dog walker!”

He huffed in exasperation, “Alright,” he agreed. 

Grace shot him one last huge grin, and was gone out the door. Frank stood where he was for a long minute. Then he set his feet back to the Pitt. He checked on his pencil guy, his bowel obstruction, and his degloved finger. He set his elbows on the charge station and sipped his Red Bull. 

“Where’s Gracie?” 

Frank flinched. He didn’t want to have to look Robby in the face and tell him, but delivering hard to hear news was part of the job, “Discharged.” Frank swiped at the tablet he had kept handy and slid it down the counter toward Robby, “CT was clear.”

Robby looked down at the tablet, but didn’t pick it up to inspect the image. His face was blank. “How long?”

“Half hour,” Frank answered. He felt like shit. Like somehow Grace leaving was his fault, and not an expected outcome. It was a good thing . 

Robby nodded once, turned, and walked away. 

7:04

“The fuck’s eating you?” 

Robby scowled at the computer screen in front of him, “Nothing.”

Abbot raised his eyebrows. He fixed Robby with an equally unimpressed expression, “Sure. Look like you could use some air.”

It was a thinly veiled suggestion that he looked ready to walk off the hospital roof. He scowled harder, “Fuck off.”

“Huh,” Abbot muttered. 

“-the man apparently owns like half the hospital-“ Santos was saying rapidly to one of the night residents as they both darted past the desk. 

Abbot shot a look at Santos, then swiveled to pin Robby with a scorching expression. Robby slammed both hands on the counter and stood, “Don’t.”

“Declan Summers was down here?” He hissed. 

“No.” Robby replied. He scooped his pack off the floor and hooked it over his shoulder before ducking the desk and starting toward the exit. 

“Grace Summers down here too?” Abbot stalked after him. 

“Fuck off, Abbot.”

“Jesus Christ,” Abbot snarled, “Can’t help yourself, can you? What was it this time? Something that’ll have her back every-“

“Fucking don’t!” Robby snarled. He turned and caught a handful of Abbot’s hoodie. For a second they stood locked in a horrible limbo, where they might start fighting or might not, before Robby shrank. He let go, “She slipped. Broke her arm. We ran some tests and then she left.”

“Just like that?” If it bothered him to have nearly been decked, Abbot didn’t show it. 

“Yeah.”

“And you just let her go?” 

“Yes.”

“Christ, Robby,” he muttered, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Robby shot, “What else am I supposed to do?”

“How about tell her .” Abbot griped. 

Something huge and ugly, the same thing that had been sitting in his chest for almost an hour cutting idly away at his heart, swelled up and threatened to choke him, “Tell her what ?”

“That you’re in love with her!” Abbot cried, “That you never said it so that you could take care of her! That you were a walking goddamn disaster every time she was admitted!”

Robby let the words hit him. They were all true, each one digging into his skin like a thorn. He could’ve given his friend all the usual excuses. He had been her doctor. He was too old. Too busy. Too stuck. That it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t expect her to deal with his job and she wouldn’t be able to anyway. He said instead, “Doesn’t matter. She didn’t say goodbye.” The last caught in his throat and came out strangled. 

Abbot’s face twisted up. Robby thought he looked sad. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he muttered, and turned to flee the building. Abbot didn’t follow. 

Robby hit the sidewalk and sucked back the relatively fresh air of the city. He could hear sirens approaching distantly over the sound of traffic. His body responded automatically to the noise and he took another breath to dispel the spike of adrenaline.

He wasn’t sure he could name the feeling in his chest, but it was awful. He wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and- not die but sleep at least a few days, until the sting was gone. How long had it taken the last time he’d had to say goodbye? Weeks at least. And there had been a goodbye to say. 

“Robby!”

He was hearing things. Very slowly, he turned his head.

Gracie stepped around a man vaping on the sidewalk. She scrunched up her nose and tossed the coffee cup in her good hand into an open trash can. Then she smiled at him. It was like the sun splitting through the clouds and shining right down on his shoulders. She drew up in front of him and shoved both hands awkwardly in her hoodie pocket, “You’re on time today, that never happens. Good thing I have a chronic fear of being late, I would’ve missed you.”

“Gracie?” He asked dumbly. 

“Yeah?” She replied. She tilted her head and her grin faltered a little, “What? What’s wrong?”

He wanted to reach for her and didn’t. He’d been doing a terrible job of holding back all day, but there were no more excuses for doing it. She was fine. She’d been discharged, “I thought you left,” The statement left his mouth low and gravely.

“Oh I did,” Gracie turned and gestured down the street, “I was supposed to have a meeting at the bank today so I had to call my investment guy, and then I had to follow up with the shelter for Earl,” she snapped her fingers, “Got that sorted. Be impressed with me, I didn’t have to go in or throw money at it.”

He nodded numbly, “I’m very impressed.” He was, a little, but mostly he was confused, “Why did you come back?”

Gracie pulled her casted hand from her pocket and tucked her hair behind her ear. She half-turned to look toward the hospital. Her cheeks were pink, “To see if you wanted to get some food. Since you couldn’t sneak off earlier.”

Robby stared. His hand fell from the strap at his shoulder to his side. He opened his mouth to say no. That it wasn’t appropriate. That she should go home and rest. What came out instead was, “I’ve got to go home and change first.”

Gracie beamed, “Oh my God, I’ve never seen you not in scrubs. Do you own other clothes?”

“Yeah, I do. Whole closet full.” He gestured vaguely north, “I’m a few blocks that way.”

Gracie followed the gesture, turning to match his pace as he started down the sidewalk, “You live that close?”

He nodded, “It’s convenient after long shifts. No contending with traffic.”

“Huh,” She tucked her casted hand back in her pocket with some difficulty, “When I worked at this big firm in Philly I couldn’t get far enough away in my off hours. You must like your job.”

Hadn’t he just been pondering the statement that morning? “I dunno.” Gracie turned to look at him and he stuck out his hand automatically to guide her toward the blinking crosswalk light, “I like that it helps people.” She hummed. If she was bothered by his hand on her back he couldn’t tell, “You lived in Philadelphia?”

“Yeah. For like, five minutes.” She did a little hop onto the curb and his hand fell away, “I passed the bar and got on at this big firm, mostly contracts for financial companies. It was basically the devil’s work. Everyone was so full of themselves and every job was about squeezing the last dime out of somebody. I hated it. I quit after four months and moved back home.”

Robby stared at her. His hand tingled where he’d touched her and he shoved it in the pocket of his pants, “How’d I never hear that you’re a lawyer?” He’d thought he had talked to Gracie about pretty much everything. As far as he’d known, when she wasn’t sick she coordinated social programming around the city through a non-profit her mother had started, funded partly by a ridiculous trust from her late grandfather. 

She hummed, “I don’t really practice anymore. I mean, I do when the Z-O needs me to, or when I need to lean on someone, but it’s not my focus.” She reached out and looped her hand through the crook of his elbow to grip his bicep, “I also like when my work helps people.”

Electricity zinged up through his arm and into his chest cavity. His heart beat hard in reply. Gracie didn’t reach for him often. It had always been him crossing that line, taking her hand or wrapping his arms around her, the handful of times it had happened. It had always been awful, the contact a pathetic attempt to comfort her when everything was falling apart. Her hand on his arm was different. It wasn’t sadness or grief tangling up in his ribs and making him ache.

What the fuck was he doing? Crossing a line, definitely. One didn’t get dinner with patients. Or former patients. Didn’t get a hand on their arm and wish it would never go away. Didn’t pine after women too young for them, who until recently had been dying . But he was. Didn’t seem to be able to help himself. He lifted his hand and slid his thumb across the back of hers, “That way.”

Gracie followed his direction and turned left around the corner of an office building, “Okay, in your opinion, what is the best restaurant nearby?” She looked across the street at the line of businesses, their signs glowing in the failing light of the evening. 

He followed her eyes and didn’t lower his hand, “Didn’t you rank them all?” There had been a time when she was admitted to the hospital when twice a day she had ordered from a new restaurant and catalogued them. He’d listened to her reviews when he made it up the elevator from the Pitt and been eaten alive by concern when he saw how little of it she was actually eating. 

“Yeah, but a lot changes in a year. And just because I like something doesn’t mean anyone else does.” She looked up at him, “What’s your favourite thing to order in?”

“Pizza.” He answered. He didn’t do it a lot, but there was a place around the corner from his apartment that was borderline disgustingly greasy and it was his guilty pleasure.

“Classic,” Gracie replied, “And where’s your favourite place to eat out?”

He did that even less. He didn’t have many people he’d call friends and saw the ones he had very little. He didn’t see a point in going out to eat by himself, “Don’t have one.”

“Really?” Gracie squinted up at him, “That’s a shame. I’ve got a whole list.”

“Go out a lot, do you?” The next words coughed up out of his mouth before he could stop them, “Hot dates?”

“Definitely not,” She laughed, “Nobody wants to date a woman with this much baggage.”

His eyebrows crashed together, “What?” He couldn’t imagine anyone being dumb enough to say no to Gracie if she asked them out. 

“Robby,” Her tone was joking. She pulled her hand from his arm and counted on her fingers, “Asshole dad, dead mom, dead brother, bunch of scars, no uterus, and a non-zero chance that I develop some fun new tumors.” She raised her eyebrows at him, “I’m not exactly a sound romantic investment.”

He knew about all of that. He caught her hand out of the air and squeezed it, “I don’t see how any of that is relevant.”

She smiled at him, “Well that’s sweet, but I can assure you, it scares people right off. That’s fine though, I can take myself for dinner. I’m independently wealthy and have no issues with eating alone.”

He clicked his tongue. He had issues with her eating alone. And with the idea that people would be put off by her history. Gracie deserved to be with someone nice. Someone who would take care of her because she didn’t have the family to do it, “What’s your favourite place to eat then?”

“Bellessa,” She answered immediately, she gestured off down a side street with her cast, “It’s this semi-Italian place? They’ve got a big crazy pizza oven in the middle of the place. I wouldn’t call it fancy, but it is really nice.”

He tried to redirect his thoughts to something that wasn’t Gracie’s dating life, “How’s the pizza?” 

“Unreal.” She said seriously, “So good. We should definitely go there, it’ll blow your mind. I mean, it’s not the same as ordering delivery and having a greasy, cheesy mess, that’s its own kind of excellent, but it is delicious.” 

Robby listened to her as they chewed up the sidewalk toward his apartment. The sun was halfway set, casting the street in a warm pink glow that would soon be gone and replaced with dull streetlights and restaurant neon. It was cool without his hoodie, but the summer was starting up in earnest and Gracie’s hand in his was warm. 

He glanced down. He’d grabbed her hand, he knew that, but he hadn’t realized he’d forgotten to let go. She had turned hers to twine her fingers with his and somehow it had escaped his notice entirely. It felt so natural to have it there. He stopped walking. 

Gracie took one more step then stopped and swiveled to face him. She glanced at the brick building beside them, seemingly unbothered by their hands floating in the space between them, and unaware of the rapidly spiralling thoughts in his brain, “Is this you? Nice looking building.”

It was a nice building. It was newish. He had a beautiful kitchen he couldn’t do justice and a shower that could fit five people, “Gracie.”

“Yeah?” She met his eyes.

Hers were so pretty. Sometimes he thought he could tell what she was feeling from the colour of them. Whether they looked more blue or grey, “We can’t do this.” 

She tilted her head, “Do what?”

“Whatever this is,” he squeezed her hand gently.

“Huh,” Gracie took half a step closer and his heart lurched at her proximity, a dozen or so inches separated them. Less than was appropriate and more than he wanted. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, “What do you think it is?”

He didn’t have the breath to speculate, “Gracie,” he begged instead.

“Okay, fine.” She lifted her casted hand and set her fingers on his chest, right over his heart, “Why not?”

He could think of a hundred reasons, “I’ve been your doctor.”

“That is true.” Gracie nodded, “But it’s been a long time. I think we’ve run out the statute on that one, don’t you think?”

“Today-”

“Today you were not my doctor.” She grinned at him, “I seem to recall you saying that several times.” 

His heart twisted up in his chest. He had said as much. He didn’t know how to tell her the truth, “I always checked your chart. I couldn’t help myself. I can’t-” He stalled. 

Gracie shrugged, “I would’ve told you anyway.” She looked down at his hand, “Is that the only thing stopping you?”

Slowly he shook his head, “I’m too old for you.”

She grinned but didn’t look at him, “I don’t care.”

“My job-”

“I know all about your job.” Her fingers curled in his shirt. She gripped the fabric, her fingers trailing against his skin and leaving sparks behind. 

His mouth was dry. He ran his tongue across his lip in a poor attempt to correct it, “I want to take care of you Gracie.” There it was. The thing he hadn’t admitted out loud. The reason he’d never let himself see her outside of the hospital. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near her case if she was ever sick again. 

She bit her lip. Her eyes flicked up, “Okay. Do that then.”

He knew what happened when a patient’s heart stopped. This wasn’t that. But it felt pretty close. Robby was good at setting boundaries. His professional and personal lives were as separate as he could make them. But he had never managed to set a proper boundary with her. She was too special. She had carved out a piece of him somehow and taken it with her and he’d never been able to fill the space. He dropped her hand and sank both of his into the short strands of her hair. It was only a step closer but it felt like crossing a mile. He pressed tight against her, her thighs, hips, stomach against his, and bent to kiss her. 

The kiss was open-mouthed and desperate. Her lips were soft, the air she breathed into his lungs warm and sweet. He felt it in his entire body, gentle sparks and heat that he hadn’t known in years. He hadn’t realized how badly he had craved it until it was back, dancing under her fingertips where she pulled at his shirt. He licked across her lip and she responded with a sigh and the glide of her tongue, and he was sure he’d never known anything half as lovely. Reluctantly he broke away, just enough to haul in the air that had abandoned him. He pressed his forehead to hers and didn’t let go, couldn’t risk her pulling away. 

Gracie smiled. She reached up and gripped his wrist with her free hand, “I knew you liked me, Robby.”

“Michael,” he replied, automatically.

“Michael,” she amended, and bridged the gap between them to press another kiss to his lips.

Chapter Text

6:38

It was almost the end of his shift. So close he could taste it. And in rare form, the ED hadn’t given him a completely miserable lineup of lost causes. He was going to make it, without disaster, to shift change. He was going to go home, and go to sleep, and have no new nightmares about things that he couldn’t change.

Except- maybe he was going to get screwed just a little.

“No!” Jack pointed a harsh finger at the junior resident leading Grace across the floor of the ED. The young man jumped and opened his mouth to supply an explanation, “That’s my patient. Get lost.”

Grace raised her eyebrows and watched the resident skitter away across the linoleum, “Good gravy, Abbot. That was mean. You have a rough night?”

He hadn’t, but he thought he was about to. He glanced at his watch. He had twenty-one minutes to get Grace out, if Robby was going to be exactly on time, which he never was. There was no way in hell he could manage it. He gestured her toward the open curtain of south four, “No. What brings you in, Grace?”

Grace sat on the edge of the bed and hitched both legs up, crossing them in front of her. She yanked up the sleeve of her sweater, exposing a bright pink cast, “It’s time to chop my cast off.”

Jack squinted at her, “At six in the morning?”

“Well I got here at four, but the x-rays took a while.” She tilted her head and grinned at him.

“Four.” Jack repeated.

“Yes.” Grace nodded.

“And why are you getting a cast removed at four in the morning?” He felt like he was putting his hand in some sort of trap. Like it would snap shut any second and crush his bones.

Grace clicked her tongue. Quietly she answered, “Because Robby can’t be here when I do.”

There it was. Something dark churned up in his stomach. Grace had never once been bothered by Robby’s hanging around. He wasn’t sure if she’d noticed his crossing boundaries all over, but Jack had. They used to fight about it all the time. If she didn’t want Robby to see her, something had happened. He wasn’t sure what the result would be, if he didn’t have her out of the ED in the eighteen minutes before Robby saw her.

“Alright.” He replied, “Give me a minute.” He backed out of the bay and flicked the curtain shut.

Jack thought hard, even as he found a tablet to pull up her x-rays and directed a nurse to find him a cast spreader. The bones in Grace’s arm looked good. They’d healed well, despite her history of struggling to heal at all. It would take him three minutes to get her cast off and then she could go, and if Robby was late, they’d avoid whatever mess it was that was trying to derail his day at the final hour.

But what exactly was the mess?

Robby hadn’t told her. Weeks ago when she’d broken her arm, he’d been tied in knots when he left because she’d been discharged and not said goodbye. Was that it? Grace had finally seen just how desperate the man was for her and not returned the feeling? Had she left to let him down and now was trying to keep from bringing the feeling back up? Jack frowned as he strode back to south four. If she was trying to avoid Robby to spare his feelings, she was doing a shit job. She should’ve gone to East Med.

He shoved past the curtain, “X-ray’s good.” He reached for a pair of gloves and yanked them on. He kicked the stool out from the wall and sat, then hefted the spreader on the tray, “Let’s get that cast off.”

Grace raised her eyebrows, “In a big hurry, Abbot?” She lifted her arm and offered it to him.

Jack knocked the rolling tray with his foot so that it slid under her cast and she took the hint to set her arm on the surface, “Six forty-eight,” he supplied as an answer.

“Damn.” Grace replied, “I guess I should’ve come in at three.”

Jack paused, the blade at the edge of her cast, “Grace. That’s insane.” He fixed her with a hard look, “If you’re avoiding him, why didn’t you go to East Med?”

Grace scrunched her nose, “It’s sort of a delicate situation, you know?”

Jack didn’t. He stared at her. He was aware, vaguely, of the clock counting down.

“I obviously can’t come in here during the day when he’s working. There’s no way he could handle someone else doing it.” She gestured to the cast with her off hand.

Jack nodded. That was true. He’d spoken, however briefly, to Langdon after Grace was in last. Robby had effectively micro-managed the entire case. He’d demanded labs that were almost certainly unnecessary, scared both of his med students, barked orders at his residents, and threatened to have a part-owner of the hospital removed by security. There was no way in hell she could come in, even for something as easy as an x-ray and cast removal, and expect him to mind his own business. Even if it was what was best for him.

“But I also can’t go to East Med.” Grace remarked seriously.

“Why not?” He asked. As far as he knew, East Med was fine. They had better patient satisfaction scores than PTMH, and probably halfway competent staff. She didn’t need a transplant, any idiot with a saw could cut off a cast.

“Because,” Grace started, like it should have been obvious, “He’d never trust that my x-ray was clear. We both know he’s gonna want to check it the second he realizes I was here.”

Jack blinked at her. He knew Robby well enough to know that was true. But why the fuck-

“Now he promised he wouldn’t, we had a very long conversation about it, but I thought it would help if it was your name on my chart.”

His eyebrows crashed together. Jack could admit when he was fucking lost. What conversation had Robby and Grace had? The last he’d heard, Grace had left without saying goodbye. And why the fuck would it help to have his name on her paperwork, “Sorry, what?”

“Can you-” Grace gestured to the cast on her arm.

Belatedly, Jack remembered that he had a job to do, and that he was wasting time. He nodded and set the tool to the edge of her cast to start cutting.

Over the noise, Grace continued, “He trusts you. I think you’re the only other person in this hospital he really trusts, so if I can say you checked my x-ray, then he’s not going to break his promise and check it himself.”

Jack frowned. Robby did trust him, they’d worked together a long time, but he wasn’t sure the trust extended to Grace. They’d had a half-dozen shouting matches when Grace had come in while Jack was working. He couldn’t really recall what they’d been about. Had Robby thought he was fucking up, or had he just been stressed out about her being in the ED at all?

“What did he promise?” He asked. It really wasn’t any of his business, and usually he was good at keeping his nose where it belonged, but he thought of Robby as a friend. A proper one. He didn’t want him getting hurt.

“To keep his eyes off my chart.” Grace watched the blade cut through the last of the plaster before Jack stuck the spreader in the gap to pry it open.

Jack frowned as he pried the thing open and off of her arm. He set down the tool and rolled the cast over in his hand, “The hell is this?” There was a thinly scrawled note on the bottom side in handwriting he recognized and could barely read.

Grace rolled her eyes and rubbed at the skin of her forearm, “My note to follow up with Ortner about the circulation problem that I don’t have.” She pointed at the cast, “I promised that I’d tell him what came out of my appointments and it’s still killing him. He didn’t believe that Ortner read my- fuck. I forgot the name. Anyway, he spent an entire evening grinding his teeth because he’s so sure I’ve got some mysterious circulation problem that’s going to kill me. Finally I had to pull up the results on my ELife account and show him cause I was afraid he’d crack a tooth.”

Jack stared at the plaster in his hands. A whole evening. That meant-

“Anyway, he’d never believe anyone at East Med could read an x-ray properly and it would turn into a whole thing. He will believe that you can read an x-ray properly, and maybe I won’t have to spend my evening talking him off a ledge.”

“You’re together.” He dropped the cast to the tray in front of him.

“Yeah.” It was Grace’s turn to squint at him, “Did he not mention that?”

“Nope.” Jack replied. Probably because as much as Jack had thought Robby needed to air his fucking feelings, he did also think the relationship played jumprope with an ethical boundary.

“Well, we are.” Grace yanked her sleeve down to cover the ugly scar at her wrist, “And he promised to be a partner and not a doctor, which means he isn’t allowed to look at my chart anymore.”

“Right.” Jack nodded, “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks.” Grace responded brightly, “And good luck to you, because he’s going to grill you the second he gets here.”

“Thanks,” Jack responded dryly. Grace beamed at him. The problem with her presence in the ED, had always been that as much as Robby liked her and spent his time crossing lines, Jack liked her too. She was sweet, and funny. She made him want to laugh. He had wanted her to be okay, and it put him on edge. Made him willing to shout and argue over what he felt was best for her.

The curtain screeched open. Jack turned to fix Robby with a glare, “I’m with a patient, get the fuck out.”

“I’m the attending on duty,” Robby replied, his voice gravely and hard, “Which means every patient here is my responsibility.”

Jack checked his watch, “Not for another two minutes.” He looked at Grace, “You’re done. Better get out of here fast before he starts ordering PDI’s and D-dimers.”

Grace laughed, “Thanks Abbot.” She shoved off the bed and took two steps to put a hand on Robby’s chest, “Look, I’m cured.” She wiggled her fingers.

Robby caught her hand and frowned over her head at Jack, “How was her x-ray?”

“No, no.” Grace said, pushing him and forcing him to back up into the ED corridor, “You don’t ask him that, because you’re not my doctor. You ask me that.”

Jack watched Robby scowl as he stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. He followed them both. Robby was obviously fighting with the demand. Jack felt a little grin tug at the corners of his mouth.

“How was your x-ray?” Robby grit, his eyes fixed on Jack.

“Great.” Grace replied. She looped her arm through Robby’s and steered him in the direction of the exit, “Like it was never even broken.”

Robby glanced over his shoulder at Jack, as though hoping for some indication that she was being truthful. Jack gave none.

“When did you get here?” Robby asked.

“Four.” Grace replied, “I thought it would be quieter but apparently some people think the middle of the night is an appropriate time to do their landscaping.”

She was referring to the man who had embedded a sawzall in his leg trimming hedges. He’d been rushed pretty quickly from chairs to a bed to stop the massive hemorrhage that had left blood splattered across half the ED floor.

“Why didn’t you just come during the day?” Robby griped.

“Are you kidding?” Grace remarked, “I couldn’t do that to Langer twice.” They hit the threshold of the exit door and Grace turned to face Robby properly. She squeezed his arm, “This way when you start complaining about not seeing my x-ray, Abbot can go home instead of listening to it.” Robby’s mouth twitched down. He looked deeply unhappy. Grace wasn’t bothered, “I’m gonna go take a nap. Come over after your shift? I’ll use my newly healed hand to make dinner.”

Slowly, Robby nodded.

“Great! See you later.” She stood on her toes to kiss Robby on the cheek, then half-turned and waved to Jack, “Bye Abbot, thanks for the speedy work.”

He lifted a hand, and watched her bounce off through the doors and into the city. His eyes slid from the doors to Robby, who watched for a second longer, then turned sharply to glare at him, “Show me the x-ray.”

“Fuck off.” Abbot remarked.

Chapter Text

Do you need to talk?

Wanna talk about it?

You know I’m always here if you need-

But he didn’t fucking want to talk about it. What would be the point? It wouldn’t change anything. At the end of the day, Adamson was still dead and so were the rest of the patients he’d lost, during the pandemic and since. The ones he remembered vividly and the ones that had blurred together.

In theory, he knew the point. He had done a psychiatric rotation just like every other doctor. He talked to Kiara everyday about patients. Encouraged them to open up to her for help or closure or whatever else it was they needed.

He just couldn’t manage it himself. Couldn’t imagine it helping when he felt like shit. When the day went so poorly that he just wanted to go home, crawl into bed and forget about everything.

Find balance, he had told Whitaker once, weeks ago. What a fucking joke.

“Rough day?”

Robby lifted his head from his hands and squinted at Jack. The man had one hand on the counter and the other wrapped around a battered travel mug he could only assume was full of expensive tea. He wondered when the last time had been that they’d had any other kind of conversation at shift change, “Yeah.” He answered, passing a hand over the stubble at his jaw, “Apartment fire.”

Jack’s expression didn’t change, “Anyone I need to keep an eye on?”

Slowly he shook his head, “Nope.”

Jack’s expression did change. Robby looked away under the guise of scooping up his pack and opening it to check the contents. He zipped it shut again and stood, “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Sure,” Jack replied.

Robby could feel his friend’s eyes on his back as he crossed to the ambulance bay doors and fled out onto the street. It was already dark, summer had turned into fall and it was rare that he saw the sun anymore unless an emergency had him running to meet a patient on the sidewalk. He thought that might have a little to do with how shitty he felt, but definitely less than the four patients he had lost that day.

He didn’t put his Airpods in, just started down the street toward home. He didn’t have to think about his route, and tried hard not to think about anything else.

It didn’t work. He wondered if there was a time he had really enjoyed going to work. He wondered if there would be again. Was he just too fucking traumatized to deal with the job? The pandemic had changed things, that was irrefutable, but was it before or after that things had changed for him?

He watched the crosswalk light change and start to blink, glanced both ways to make sure a car wasn’t about to hit him anyway, and crossed.

He was so fucking tired. Maybe if he could get a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t for days, not since before the first shift in his rotation. He always slept poorly the night before he started work again, which made the day hard, and then when the day was hard he slept poorly, and the whole thing repeated until he was off again. Then, even when he was off, he might still sleep poorly.

The second he got home, he would crawl into bed and try to get some actual rest. Except, he had to eat first. And he definitely had to shower before that.

What was in his fridge, anyway? It was usually pretty empty after a rotation. He’d ordered Thai on his second day, was that still good? Probably not. Maybe there was something in his freezer? Although, he didn’t think he could manage cooking even if there was. He studied his boots as he ate up the long stretch of sidewalk. He could order something again, but making the decision to do it, and then what, and from where, was again more than he thought he could manage. How many decisions had he made that day? Too many.

“Hey good-lookin’.”

Robby stopped dead, his eyes jumping up to land on Gracie’s face where she sat, grinning, on the railing of his apartment building’s front step, “Gracie, what’re you-”

Her eyebrows shot up. She tilted her head, her smile turned teasing, “Did you forget?”

He tried to think back. She had been gone a few days, since before his first shift. In Chicago visiting an old friend. They’d exchanged a handful of texts, but he couldn’t remember any of them having been about her coming home, much less coming to see him. And it was tough to think back at all with his eyes on her. She was wearing a pair of slim jeans and a pink sweater, her hair in neat waves and pushed back from her face with a pair of pins on either temple, “I, uh-”

“Sorry,” she interrupted, “I’m messing with you. I just wanted to see you.” She unhooked her feet from the rail beneath her and stood. She took three steps down and stopped to hook her fingers in the collar of his sweater, “Are you still off tomorrow?”

He wished she’d gone for the hem of his t-shirt instead so that he could feel her against his skin, however little the contact was, “Yeah.”

“Then I can stay over?” She asked, her voice low and smooth, “Order us some food? Hog all the covers in that ridiculous bed of yours?”

Robby’s bed was ridiculous. He’d thought, months ago, that a new bed would help him sleep. It was king sized, extremely comfortable, and he hated it. Gracie tended to roll in her sleep. He would wake up three times a night, positive she had snuck away when he didn’t feel her beside him, only to realize that she’d rolled across his giant fucking bed. He preferred hers. It was smaller and she was never out of arm's reach. It wasn’t to mention her stupid weighted blanket. The thing weighed thirty pounds. It made him feel like he was being crushed and he was loathe to admit out loud that it squashed a little of the anxiety out of him even when Gracie wasn’t lying next to him.

He realized he’d forgotten to answer when Gracie lifted her hand to his cheek and started to nod, “Say yes.”

“Yes,” he replied, “Sorry. I missed you.” It was true. She didn’t often stay over when he was working, he was always tired and useless after a shift. He wasn’t good company and then always woke her up too early, but sometimes he got to the middle of a rotation and couldn’t help it. He’d ask if she wanted to come over, or he’d show up at her place. He’d spend a whole evening just sitting with her, listening to whatever she wanted to tell him, watching whatever was on TV that she wanted to watch until it was late enough that he could herd her to bed.

He’d wrap himself around her and press his face to the back of her neck and breathe the flowery smell of her shampoo. Sometimes he would fall asleep right away, and stay that way, and then wake feeling more rested than he had since the last time he’d done the same thing. Sometimes he wouldn’t and he would lie awake and listen to the slow sound of her breathing, feel her chest rise and fall under his hand, and he would relax properly and still wake feeling more rested than he would have if he was home alone.

Gracie smiled, the same easy smile she always did, and slid her arms around his neck, “I missed you too.” She leant to kiss him, the single stair putting them at the same height.

Robby could feel the effect immediately, the press of her mouth on his spreading soothing warmth through his whole body. All the tensed muscles across his shoulders eased. He reached up to slide his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her a little closer so he could lick across her lip.

Gracie tilted her head up, breaking away from his mouth. He wanted her back but let her go, “Do you have thoughts about food?” She asked, seemingly to the sky.

“No,” He answered. He felt guilty for it and slid his thumb up the side of her neck in silent apology.

“Good!” She turned and he let his hand fall away so she could bounce back up the steps and scoop her tote from the landing, “Because I have many thoughts about food. Specifically sushi, and how many different kinds of rolls I’m gonna order us.”

He exhaled his guilt and followed her up the stairs, fishing for his keys in his pocket, “How many is that, exactly?”

“At least seven.” She watched him unlock the door and ducked under his arm when he opened it for her, “But I’m on the fence about sashimi.”

“Huh,” He followed her across the lobby to the elevator, “But you hate sashimi.”

“That’s true,” She hit the elevator button with her elbow. He appreciated the movement. Appreciated that she continued to use whatever strategies she could to avoid touching public surfaces even though she had a white-cell count that could fight the common cold, “But every once in a while I think, what if I don’t hate it? What if I just need to give it another chance?”

“Does that ever work for you?” He asked. The doors slid open.

“Good evening Mrs. Sutton,” Gracie greeted. She stepped backward so her spine pressed against his chest and the elderly woman could step out of the elevator past her.

“Mrs. Sutton,” Robby greeted. He offered her a little smile and was positive it wasn’t nearly as bright as Gracie’s. He couldn’t see her expression but he savoured the warmth of her against him.

The little old woman scowled at them both. She said nothing. He watched her shuffle over the gap in the floor and across the tile, and followed Gracie automatically when she stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut and he elbowed the button for his floor.

“That old lady is seriously miserable. What’s her issue?” She hiked her bag a little higher onto her shoulder.

Robby frowned. Mrs. Sutton used to like him. She used to be nice. She would greet him in the hall, “She thinks I’m an old perv.”

Gracie laughed, “What?”

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. He didn’t like the words that were about to leave his mouth but couldn’t deny her an answer, “Gracie, you know how this looks.”

It didn’t happen often, because they didn’t go out often, but occasionally they did and were treated to a couple odd looks that Gracie never seemed to notice, but Robby did. He had more than a decade on her. It wasn’t something he felt good about, but together in his apartment it didn’t matter. Out in public though, where he looked his age and despite the years she’d been sick she looked less than hers, he felt the difference keenly.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She pressed her lips together into a frown, then glanced at him sidelong, “I bet it’s me.” The doors in front of them slid open and she stepped out and started down the hall to his door.

“What do you mean?” He juggled his keys.

Gracie gestured back at him, “Nice older doctor. I bet she thinks I’m a gold-digger out to steal all your money.”

He snorted a laugh, “Gracie!”

“She totally does!” She leant on the wall while he unlocked the door, “If only she knew the truth.”

“And what’s that?” He shoved open the door and held it for her. She stepped into the apartment and kicked off her boots, then dropped her bag onto the island and turned to face him.

“That I’m the rich one here. And way more likely to drop dead. If anything, you’re the gold-digger.” Her grin was impish.

His heart twisted at the joke, “I don’t think I like that.” He muttered.

“No?” She set her palms back on the counter and hopped up to sit on the edge, “You don’t want to be my sugar-baby?”

He kicked off his own boots and stepped toward her. Sitting on the counter she was shorter than him, but he could stand right between her knees. He slid his palms up over her thighs and held them, “What’s that entail?”

“I buy us dinner in exchange for sex and companionship.” She answered, hooking her fingers in his pockets.

Robby nodded, “That sounds pretty good, actually.”

“I know.” She smiled against his mouth when he kissed her, then poked at his ribs, “Go shower.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He was halfway done and rinsing shampoo out of his hair when he remembered he’d been feeling like shit. He examined the emotions in his chest, turned them over slowly as though he could actually see them.

Guilt at losing four patients. Grief for their families. Anger at the building manager who had caused the fire in the first place. Shame for the position he put Gracie in. The scrutiny she would get just for being with him.

They were still there, lingering in his body. But they shied away from the warmth of the other thing. The thing that took hold of him whenever Gracie was around. The thing that had stopped feeling so unstable, so dangerous, since he started seeing her places that weren’t the hospital. When he started to believe that she really was well. He was grateful for it.

It still might blow up in his face and he was sure the fallout would kill him, but until then he would be grateful.

He shut off the water, toweled off and pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He opened the bathroom door and listened carefully. He couldn’t hear her, but he took a guess and wandered toward the living room.

Gracie was sitting on the couch, both legs tucked up underneath her and her phone in her hand. She had a finger wound up in her hair and chewed her lip absently. She glanced up when he crossed the room to flop next to her. She dropped her phone to the side table, “How was work?”

He scrunched his nose, “Shitty.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

How many times had he been asked that recently? It didn’t annoy him nearly as much coming from her lips, “No.”

“Okay. Wanna hear about Chicago?”

“Yeah. I do.” He wanted to hear about whatever she wanted to tell him.

“Well, I thought we were just there to hang out. Food, drinks, museum tours, shopping,” She shuffled a little awkwardly, then swung her leg over both of his to settle across his lap. She slid her hands across his neck, scratching her nails up into his hair, “But it turns out that Izzy decided to break up with her husband. We were actually there to supervise the movers, and I had to spend forty minutes on the phone threatening Bill with legal action that I’m definitely not allowed to take in Illinois.”

He gripped at her hips. Her body was warm under his hands. Her fingers in his hair felt good. He dropped his head back a little against the cushions, “That sounds stressful,” he remarked. He didn’t like the idea of her friend putting her in a difficult situation without any warning.

“Sort of?” She tilted her head, “I just liked hanging out with Izzy and I’m glad we got to help her out. Plus we did still make it shopping. I got the cutest sweater.”

“How’d Max feel?” He knew her friend had gone with her, she’d told him as much.

Gracie shrugged, “She was annoyed. Mostly because Izzy’s not moving back, even though Bill’s the only reason she moved there in the first place. I think she still will though. It’ll only take her a month and a half of living in that apartment by herself and she’ll be out of there.”

Robby felt good, with her hands on him. And guilty, for feeling it. He muttered, “She doesn’t have kids?”

“No. She wants them, so I think she always knew on some level that Bill was terrible and it wasn’t going to work.”

“What about you?” It was like his brain was trying to make himself hurt. He couldn’t stop the words even though he knew they would only lead to more misery.

Grace raised her eyebrows, “What about me? I definitely always knew Bill was terrible.”

Robby gripped a little tighter at her thighs, “Did you want kids?” It was another thing he felt guilty for. She couldn’t, he knew that, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t adopt or didn’t have plans for a surrogate. She was still young enough to do it. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

“Not really,” Gracie pulled her hands back and slid them over his jaw, her thumb petted over his cheek, “Then I got sick and I definitely didn’t.”

Robby wrapped his arms around her back and held her tightly. He had thought he’d known that, but he’d never asked aloud. It was one more thing that could have driven a wedge right between them. One more thing he would have been guilty of.

“I lost four patients,” he said. The words came out strangled. He hadn’t meant to say them. Or maybe he had because the rest followed, “There was a fire. It was awful.”

Gracie made a noise, a sad kind of whine. She moved to sit up but he gripped a little tighter and she stopped to press against him instead.

“There wasn’t anything we could do. We just had to watch.”

He could feel Gracie’s hand on the back of his neck. The slow stroke of her thumb, “What can I do?” She muttered in his ear.

“This.” He answered.

Chapter Text

There was blood on his hands. On his skin, wet and red.

She was supposed to be sitting in North twenty, but she hadn’t been. That wasn’t unusual, she didn’t like sitting around and waiting, she’d wander off and chat with somebody. Hadn’t she just been chatting with Earl? But he knew. He knew instantly that this time it was different. This time it was wrong.

It was one of the first rules, always glove up first. Like when the air masks deployed on a plane, protect yourself first, but he didn’t. Hadn’t.

She knew her way around the ED backward and forward but so did he. He knew what spots she liked and what spots she didn’t. She always went to the washroom at the south end. Something about the vent but he couldn’t remember what it was right that second, when he was jogging across the linoleum.

It was under his nails, dried into the lines on his knuckles.

He knocked. Not knocked. Banged on the door. Hard enough that he got Dana’s attention halfway down the corridor. Had he said something? Maybe. But there wasn’t an answer so he hit the handle and shoved through.

It was on his clothes too, drenching his scrubs, hot and sticky.

The floor was soaked, and so was she, in blood and tears and he remembered the fucking scissors so clearly, but not what he yelled back into the corridor.

How had he gotten blood on his face? He didn’t remember.

He hit the floor on his knees hard enough to bruise and caught her wrist in his hand. Squeezed tight enough over the gash to slow the bleeding and pulled her arm up, over her head. She was crying and he thought he might have been too but he couldn’t tell. He wrapped his other arm around her, hauled her right against his chest, and he was yelling something but again he had no idea what the words were.

The blood leaked through his fingers, down his arm, dripped off his elbow onto his thigh. It was fucking everywhere.

She was saying something. Sorry. Over and over, and he didn’t want her apology. He wanted to go back. How much faster would he have had to be in noticing?

Blood never bothered him but he felt sick.

Then Dana was there, and Collins, and his hands were being pried open, and somebody was yelling (him, again) and she was gone, and he was drowning, and there was so much blood, too much, she wasn’t going to make it-

Robby jolted up and hauled in a huge breath of air. Then a second. It was dark, cold morning light barely filtered through the curtains leaving the room in a wash of grey. He shoved the covers away, but there were no bloody scrubs underneath, just his boxers. His hands itched, but there was no blood there either.

“Gracie?” He reached out but the bed beside him was empty. His heart beat painfully. That was wrong, she had gone to bed with him, hadn’t she? It was too early for her to be up, she always slept in. Until he was up and made coffee and delivered it to her in an effort to coax her out from under the covers.

He shoved the blankets the rest of the way back and lurched to his feet, half-stumbled across the floor to the doorway and shoved open the door, “Gracie!”

“What?” There was light, warm and clear, spilling down the hall from the kitchen. There was a thud, then Gracie slid across the wood floor and into the open hall. The blond of her hair shone like a halo, her top half covered in one of his sweaters and her legs bare except for a pair of wool socks, “Michael? What’s wrong?”

He took a breath that came easy. There she was, solid and real. The only person that called him by his first name, “Shit,” he muttered, and took the half dozen steps to meet her. He wrapped his arms around her and she looped hers around his waist in return. Her hands were freezing against the small of his back. He pressed his cheek to her hair and breathed the soft floral smell of her shampoo. The fearful beat of his heart slowed.

“Hey,” she whispered against his chest, “What’s going on?”

He wasn’t sure how to explain. How could he tell her he’d had a nightmare where she bled to death? He couldn’t. Not when the event, one of the worst days of his life, had been one of the worst of hers too. He couldn’t ask her to comfort him when it would mean reminding her, “Sorry,” he grit out, “I just- bad dream.”

Gracie let out a low hum. She rubbed his back slowly, “About what?”

He pressed his eyes shut and didn’t answer. It wasn’t often that he avoided answering a question. Gracie let him have it. She kept her arms tight around him until he stopped feeling like the world was sliding out from beneath his feet. He lifted his head and glanced toward the kitchen counters, “What’re you doing out here?”

“Having a snack,” she answered.

He squinted at the stove, “At four-thirty?”

“Yeah,” she leant back to study his face, “Is that weird?”

“Yes.” The time was weird. And the spread of raw vegetables she was apparently eating was also weird. Gracie hated to eat anything green, but there was a half eaten celery stick on the marble.

“Huh,” She let go of him slowly and moved to scoop up the broccoli also on his counter, and shove it back in the fridge. The celery she picked up and took a bite of, “I do it literally all the time.”

He watched her closely. She seemed fine. He crossed to open a cupboard for a glass and went to the sink to fill it, “You’re messing with me.”

“No. You never notice, because you’re asleep.” She took another bite.

He set his hip against the counter and took a drink. He liked the look of her in his hoodie. The line of her bare legs. He was glad her arm was covered, “You hate celery.”

“I do, yes.” She gestured with it to the roof, “But it would be extremely unhealthy to eat leftover pizza at four in the morning so this is my compromise.” She shoved the last bite in her mouth and chewed.

He had a few thoughts about her habit but he was her partner, not her doctor, so he didn’t voice them. They’d had a long conversation, months ago, to iron out that rule. He didn’t try to talk her into healthier choices, just cut up vegetables and put them in front of her when it was his turn to cook. Blended up smoothies and left them in her fridge for when she woke up, hours after he went to work. It wasn’t that she had a host of bad habits, it was just that he worried about her regardless.

He had another drink and set his glass on the counter, “Are you coming back to bed now?”

“Yes.” She answered, shoving off the counter, “But I have to brush my teeth first.”

Robby followed her down the hall. That explained, at least, why sometimes he kissed her before he left in the morning and found her mouth tasted like mint. He’d thought it was strange and never remembered long enough to ask about it later. He didn’t go to the bedroom without her, he leant on the door frame and watched her squeeze out toothpaste.

Gracie watched him out of the corner of her eye. Halfway through, and with a mouthful of foam, she muttered, “What?”

He shook his head and waited. She frowned. He watched her finish and spit into the sink. She took a second to rinse it, then turned to face him. She raised an eyebrow. He didn’t move. Gracie made a humming sound and edged past him and down the hall. He followed.

She pulled his hoodie over her head and dropped it to the floor. The tanktop and underwear she had on might’ve had his thoughts spinning a different direction, but he could just see when she reached out to straighten the blanket, the line at her wrist.

The sight of it made his heart lurch. He watched her climb into bed before he rounded the foot of it and slid in beside her. He didn’t need to reach for her, she rolled to pillow her head on his chest, her hand sliding up to trace her fingers across his collarbone. Her fingertips were ice cold. He shivered and caught her hand, cupped it in his and breathed warm air over her skin.

He knew where the line was. The little scar that ran vertically across her skin. He tugged her hand a little higher, shifted his grip, and pressed his lips to it. It had been stitched shut. Was closed up and long healed. Just a scar. A memory of something terrible.

Gracie didn’t say anything. But she inched a little higher, and pressed a kiss to his mouth. She breathed warmth into his lungs, and the last of the fear leaked away.

Chapter Text

For a second, when Robby woke, his dream stuck.

He’d been in the ambulance bay shouting at Frank. Frank who had gotten high and killed a patient. The guilt that he hadn’t stopped it was huge and it came out sideways as horrible overwhelming anger he could still feel in his gut.

It wasn’t real, Frank hadn’t killed anyone, but he had lied. The guilt was still there, that Robby hadn’t noticed what was happening, and the anger was real, but at some point it had stopped being aimed at Frank. He was angry with himself instead.

He wasn’t sure how to get rid of it. It sat and festered, like so many other things that he couldn’t seem to shake. He was going to have to figure it out. Hopefully before Frank got out of rehab and turned up in the Pitt again. Robby wondered if he could foist the man off on Jack. Banishing him to the night shift where they didn’t have to look at each other was a pretty tempting idea.

Except he couldn’t do that, and ignore the problem a second time. He needed Frank where he could see him. Where he could watch for all the signs he’d failed to notice the first time around.

It was too early to think about a problem that was still months away, but half-asleep in the dim light of his bedroom he couldn’t shake it. He needed to get up and do something to distract himself. He reached to scrub his hands over his face in an effort to wake a little more, then turned toward the nightstand and picked up his phone.

Six-thirty wasn’t early. He’d practically slept in. On a day that he worked he would’ve been up two hours earlier and on his way to shower. He’d make coffee and shove something in his pack for lunch that he probably wouldn’t end up eating, and then if he needed a distraction he’d just walk to work a little early and kick off the day dealing with one of the previous night’s unlucky patrons.

He wasn’t supposed to go to work, and he didn’t want to. He needed something else. He set his phone back down with a dull thud, and rolled to survey the other side of the bed.

So far away he could reach and not touch her, Gracie was asleep on her back, one arm up over her head. Her face was turned away from him but he knew for certain that she was asleep from the even tempo of her breathing. She never woke up on her own before eight, and even then she complained about how early it was. For her, a good night’s sleep meant she was out until ten.

Gracie was distracting. Her easy physicality and the sweet sound of her voice blocking out nearly everything else. He could wake her up.

It was a bad idea. She hated being woken up early. She would be annoyed.

It was just that the insidious idea had roots. Roots in the part of his brain that needed a distraction, and roots in the knowledge that under the covers she was entirely undressed. All smooth pale skin that he’d spent what felt like hours with his hands on the night before.

She wouldn’t be annoyed for real, he didn’t think.

He hauled himself across the empty space between them to prop himself on his elbow beside her. Gently he brushed her hair back from her face, “Gracie.”

She frowned and turned her face a little further into her pillow.

“C’mon, Gracie,” He stroked his thumb across her jaw, “Wake up.”

She didn’t open her eyes, but she grumbled, almost unintelligibly, “What time is it?”

“Seven,” He answered.

“Absolutely not, go away,” She rolled away from him onto her side. The hand above her head gripped her pillow and pulled it down so she could curl around it. The blanket shifted, exposing the ridges of her spine.

Robby frowned. He was aware that he should listen. He could go make coffee. Read something. Sit on the couch until she woke up properly.

He didn’t want to. He followed her instead. Pressed his body against hers and ducked to mouth at the back of her neck, his hand sliding down from her ribs to settle on her hip, “Gracie,” he muttered against her skin.

She shivered and whined, “Too early.”

“No,” he let the syllable stretch and kissed his way to the hollow under her ear, “It’s practically late. I slept in.”

“This isn’t sleeping in,” she grumbled, but she tilted her head a little toward his mouth.

“You’re right. I’m done sleeping,” He pet his hand down her thigh and back up over the curve of her ass, “Let's go for breakfast.”

“You never want to go for breakfast,” the hand on her pillow reached back to grip his hair, keeping him pressed against her neck.

Gracie liked when he kissed the back of her neck. She also liked to go for breakfast. He was more inclined to do one than the other. Because kissing his way across her skin made them both happy, and going to sit together somewhere public made him a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t ashamed of Gracie, that could never be the case, but he was a little ashamed of himself. He thought he should have more self-control than to have burdened a woman fifteen years his junior with a relationship that couldn’t possibly serve her. He also wasn’t sure how he could be reasonably expected to have declined it.

He hummed and bit at the junction of her shoulder, “I want to go today.”

Gracie huffed. She shifted her hips back to press against him and he grunted at the shock of pleasure, “Do you? Or are you just trying to get me to wake up early?”

“Both,” He gripped her hip bone hard, “Is it working?”

“Not yet,” She rocked her ass into the hard length of his erection again, “Keep trying.”

“Fuck,” He gave up trying to keep her still and reached to drag her leg up over his thigh so that he could get his hand on her pussy, already wet and hotter than sin, “What do I need to do, sweetheart?” He teased his fingers over her entrance, his thumb lazily circling her clit, “How can I convince you?”

“You’re on the right-” She gave a choked little moan when he slid a finger into her, “Track- Jesus-”

He couldn’t think, not with the way she was bucking her hips into his hand that had her grinding against his cock when she pulled back. He slid a second finger into her and pressed the heel of his hand to her clit instead. He kissed her neck, open mouthed and wet, leaving a trail of saliva across her skin.

“Fuck, Michael-” She was doing all the work, fucking herself on his fingers and whining, high and sweet. She could cum that way, he knew, but he wanted to feel it when she did. He pulled his hand free. Gracie choked his name again and tried to twist in his arms.

He didn’t let her, he took her shoulder instead and pressed her front into the mattress before he shoved the covers away and rolled to get on top of her and between her legs. She panted, her head turned to look at him and the sound that came out of her when he sucked his fingers into his mouth to taste her went straight to his aching dick.

Gracie lifted her hips and he could just see the inviting mess he’d made of her. He wrapped wet fingers around his length and slotted it at her entrance, just close enough to make her whimper and beg, “Michael-” He liked it when she begged. He liked knowing he could give her what she wanted.

He snapped his hips and buried himself in the soft heat of her. Gracie gave him a broken little moan and turned her face into the pillows. He bracketed her in his arms and let the weight of his body press her into the mattress. He fucked her in hard, deep strokes that made his head spin. The noises that she tried and failed to muffle zinging through him like fireworks.

There was no slow coil of pleasure, just hot shocks of it that layered over each other and blocked out every thought he’d ever had. He pressed his face to the back of her neck and rocked into her harder, “Come for me,” he demanded, soft and low.

Gracie didn’t say anything, she just whined and clutched at the sheets underneath her.

She was going to do it. He was going to make her. He let a little more of his weight fall across her and reached up with his left hand to grip her neck, not squeezing but holding. A possessive edge he hadn’t known he had until he buried himself in the heat of her the first time.

Gracie came with a shudder that mirrored the spasm of her cunt around him, fresh heat leaking free with an unbearably filthy wet noise that had him grunting and fucking into her as deeply as he could as he came along with her.

He returned to his brain slowly and stroked gently over the column of her throat with his thumb, injecting as much affection as he could into the soft kisses he peppered over her skin.

Gracie hummed and muttered, “Okay. I’m awake.”

Robby chuckled. Slowly he dragged himself up and away to kneel between her knees. He watched the mess that leaked from her and regretted not being twenty years younger.

Gracie hitched her right leg up so that she could roll and pick up her phone. She glanced at the screen and a noise of outrage followed, “It’s fucking six-fifty-three!”

“Practically seven,” He replied easily.

“Practically seven,” she mocked, annoyed, “You’re buying me eggs benedict.”

He watched her clamber out of bed and trip on her pants from the day before on her way to the bathroom, “Okay,” he wondered if that was supposed to be a punishment. He would’ve spoiled her by paying for all kinds of things if she didn’t have such a frivolous relationship with money. He did it by getting his hands on her whenever she was nearby instead. By doing as many little kindnesses as he could think of every day.

By the time he got in the shower with her, she seemed to have forgiven him for fudging the time. She kissed him a dozen times to make up for the fact that she’d yet to do it at all, and washed his back with lazy circles which felt almost as good as the sex they’d just had, and were twice as tender.

He got dressed and watched her do the same, in a pair of bike shorts and one of his tshirts. He regretted promising to get her breakfast. He wanted to get her back out of her clothes. Or at least her pants. He supposed he still could later.

There was a little diner Gracie liked that was about a hundred years old and looked like it. She insisted that despite the grouchy old waitress and chipped tables, that it was the best breakfast place in the city. Robby didn’t think he agreed, but the waffles were good so he didn’t mind taking her.

She was quiet the whole way there, a clear sign that her brain was only half running. She fiddled with the radio in his jeep, squinting, until she found a country station. She didn’t usually listen to country, and he did mind the twangy guitar, but he didn’t say so.

The diner was as dingy as usual, and the waitress just as grumpy. But she brought coffee directly to their booth with the menus she offered, so that was good. Gracie filled hers with several sugar packets and sipped it immediately. Her expression softened.

For about thirty seconds before her phone rang.

She frowned, dug it out of her bag, glanced at the screen, and scowled.

Robby knew that scowl, “Don’t answer it.”

Gracie scrunched her nose. She let the phone ring twice. Then she swiped and held it to her ear, “Hi, Dad.”

Robby shook his head minutely. It was closing in on nine, but that was still too early for a call from her dad that would almost certainly put her in a bad mood. He wasn’t sure why she answered the phone when she knew it would end that way, but she always did. He sipped his coffee and listened to half the conversation.

“Fine. Yep. Well, it’s early,” She scratched at the side of her neck. Robby noted the little red mark there and felt a zing of embarrassment. Maybe that was why the waitress kept frowning at him. Gracie dropped her hand to her mug, “No, I can’t today. I’m busy. No, I’m already out. With Michael.” Another zing. Something closer to shock. His eyes locked on hers, fixed to her coffee, “Robinavitch?”

Her eyebrows scrunched together, “No? No!” Then she laughed, sudden and disbelieving, “Who are you calling old?” She rolled her eyes, “Yeah, alright. Tell it to Kat. What year did she graduate again? Hello?” She lowered her phone to look at the screen, “He hung up on me! Can you believe that?” She let it clatter to the table and met his eyes. Her mouth dropped open, “Oh shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to do that, I swear! This is why I don’t leave the house before coffee!”

Dumbly he muttered, “What?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to tell him we’re together,” She winced, “I know you don't really want to tell people.”

“Me?” Confusion rattled through him, “What made you think that?”

Grace frowned at him, “You didn’t tell Jack.”

He hadn’t, because she had, “So?”

“He’s your best friend?” Gracie tilted her head, similar confusion painted across her face.

“I thought you were going to change your mind and tell me to hit the bricks,” Robby replied. He was pretty sure she still would, at some point.

For a second she didn’t say anything. Then she slapped her palm on the table, “Oh my God! I could’ve been telling people this whole time?”

Robby laughed, “Gracie, is this you not telling people? You’re wearing my shirt right now.”

Gracie glanced down at herself and pursed her lips, “Alright, I’ll give you that one,” she picked up her mug, “But who’s gonna see us?”

“McKay,” he replied, “Two weeks ago. Told the whole nursing staff she saw us together at the bookstore.”

“Really? McKay did?” Gracie scratched idly at her neck again, “I didn’t take her for a busybody.”

“They’re all busybodies.” Robby reached across the table for her hand and twined their fingers together, “I didn’t tell people because I thought you might not want your dad to know.”

“Oh,” Gracie squeezed his hand. She considered the statement, “Y’know, I actually kind of didn’t. It seemed like the kind of thing that might give him a heart attack, but he seemed fine.” She shrugged, “I figured he wouldn’t be happy about it, but I’ve given up letting that drive any of my decisions.”

He couldn’t blame Declan for being unhappy. He couldn’t imagine anyone being happy at their daughter dating someone significantly older than they were. That was forgetting the fact that Declan hated him in particular, and had since Gracie was sick and often in the hospital, “Did you used to?”

”Yeah,” Gracie lifted her mug but didn’t drink, “Piano. Law school. Contract Negotiations. You never did anything just to make your parents happy?”

He thought about it, “They were pretty happy when I went to med school. Might’ve preferred I was a plumber if it meant I married a nice Jewish girl.”

She sipped her coffee, then drawled, “Do I need to convert?”

”Only if you want to be buried in a Jewish cemetery,” he replied.

Gracie clicked her tongue, “No can do anyway. I’ve got a tattoo.”

Robby lowered the mug he’d lifted slowly. He stared at her, “No you don’t.” He was positive she didn’t. He’d mapped the whole expanse of her skin. He knew how many freckles there were across her shoulders.

She winced, “Yeah. I do.”

”Where?” He asked incredulously. Reluctantly, she lifted her hand and tapped her lower lip. It took him a second to catch her meaning, “What is it?”

“Used to say ‘suck it’. Now it’s just a bunch of smudges. Turns out inner lip tattoos don’t last.” She didn’t sound broken up about it.

”Why-“

”Lost a bet,” Gracie cut him off, “I was like, nineteen.”

It was such a strange statement to hear from her. Gracie liked to be spontaneous but she didn’t tend to do things that he would consider poor decisions. He wondered if that was new. If she had been the type of person to be a little reckless before she’d been sick. He didn’t like to think that it had changed her, but he wasn’t sure he could’ve kept up with a more spontaneous version of her either.

”Are you disappointed in me?” She grinned at him across the table.

”No,” He scratched at the back of his neck, “I’m a little worried you might think I’m boring.”

Gracie snorted. She leant in a little, “After you woke me up to fuck me into the mattress?”

”Okay, alright, none of that,” He shot a nervous glance toward the counter and the grouchy old waitress lurking there.

Gracie laughed.

Chapter Text

The day was going alright. Or had been, before an asshole in a sports car blew a red light and t-boned a young couple in an suv. The young man who’d been in the passenger seat made it from the trauma bay toward surgery, but Robby knew the way he knew a lot of things, that he wouldn’t be making it back. He took a second in the quiet of the empty room. Took a deep, slow breath. Then he ducked through the doors.

Jack caught him just outside and hefted a takeout cup in his direction, “Your girl was here.”

Robby took the cup and lifted it briefly to inspect the drawing on the side, which might’ve been him as a stick figure, “You talk to her?”

”Yeah. She says you’re having pizza for dinner.”

Robby made a soft noise. Together they went to the charge station. He took a sip of his milkshake and said, “I’m never gonna finish this before it melts.”

“Yeah, she knows that. It’s not about the shake, it’s about the gesture.” Jack had a drink from his own cup.

Robby frowned at him, his eyebrows knit together, “What did she say to you?”

”All kinds of shit,” Jack leant back to inspect the board over his head, “She likes that you’re old and grouchy. Thinks our job’s stupid. Brings you milkshakes she knows you won't be able to drink so you know your job doesn’t make her love you any less.”

It was like getting shoved off a bridge. His heart lurched into his throat and the air in his lungs abandoned him in the form of a word, ”What?”

Jack seemed totally unaware that he’d just dropped a bomb, “Yeah, I think you missed the fucking point on that one,” He looked back at Robby and frowned.

“Did she say that?” Robby pressed.

Jack frowned, “I’m paraphrasing.”

”But did she-“ he shot a glance backward at the nurses lingering nearby. He set his cup down, leant forward, and finished a little quieter, “Did she say she loved me?”

Jack’s face twisted, “Oh hell.”

“Jack,” Robby’s voice came out strangled and begging.

“She said it like it was no big deal, I didn’t realize she hadn’t-“ He glanced over Robby’s shoulder at Perlah, who was trying not to look like she was eavesdropping and lowered his voice, “Why the fuck is she telling me and not you?”

They stared at each other. Robby broke first and dug his phone from his pocket, swiping it open. Jack reached out and grabbed it, slamming both their hands to the counter between them, “Don’t fucking call her!”

”I need to know!” Robby spat.

”That’s an in person conversation, don’t you fucking think?” Jack hissed back.

Robby ground his teeth together and scowled.

”We’ve got a four car accident, two critical incoming!” Matteo darted past the desk toward the ambulance bay.

They were forced to table the conversation.

Robby made it to the end of his shift, despite feeling untethered from Earth’s gravity. It was like Jack had cut the line that kept his feet on the ground, and any second he was going to float off into space and freeze to death.

Because at the end of the day, he was supposed to meet Gracie at her place. They’d planned to have dinner, and maybe watch a movie, and sleep in Sunday morning, which he never managed but she always did. It would’ve been nice. He was looking forward to it.

But there was no way he could make it through the evening without asking about what she’d said to Jack. And she was going to tell him that she hadn’t said it, or hadn’t meant it like that, or whatever other gentle platitude that amounted to the same thing. Which was that he loved her with his whole heart, and she didn’t love him.

It was going to kill him to hear and he didn’t know what to do about it. Because he couldn’t not ask, and she wouldn’t not tell him.

He hoped when she did, that she would put him out of his misery. Because he couldn’t walk away from her, hadn’t ever managed to do it, not once. Which meant that when she broke his heart, he would still hang around and take whatever crumbs she would give him and that would be excruciating. Better she told him she was done so he could go home and try to put himself back together again.

As if he could.

He collected his pack from its usual place behind the charge station, and made a break for the doors out into the city. He passed Jack on his way, and neither of them said anything. Jack didn’t ask Robby what it was that was killing him, and Robby didn’t ask the same thing in return.

It was a fucking miracle that between them, they hadn’t killed any patients. He didn’t know what was eating Jack, but it had to be almost as bad as what was killing Robby for him to look the way he did when he’d walked into the ED that morning. Robby wanted to help his friend, but it was like when the oxygen masks deployed on a plane. He couldn’t help anyone until he helped himself, and since he was more likely to blow apart his life that evening, he wouldn’t be equipped to help anyone at all.

For once, he’d driven to work. Gracie’s apartment was far enough he needed the car to get there if he wanted to do it before nine. He spent the whole ride tapping his fingers on the wheel, and catastrophizing. He knew he was doing it, and couldn’t stop. As poor as it felt, to hope for anything better would be worse.

Gracie’s townhouse was large and new. It was made up of distinctly modern panels of slate and reflective glass that he didn’t think suited her at all. She’d explained to him the first time he’d been there, that it was a gift from her dad.

He’d had to let that one simmer, standing in the ridiculous kitchen full of industrial grade appliances that must have cost a fortune on their own. She’d been cooking dinner, some kind of pasta, and waved the knife she was using to cut vegetables as she explained in a way that made him nervous so he rounded the island to take it from her and finish the job she’d been doing.

She hadn’t seemed to notice his concern, just kept going, “He really only knows how to express his affection with money which means that if I say no to a gift, it’s interpreted as personal rejection, and that’s a whole can of worms. So, as much as I liked my little apartment downtown, I thanked him for the thoughtful gift and packed my shit.” She went to stir the pasta on the stove, “It’s not so bad. My bathtub is enormous and I have a couple spare rooms for when friends visit. Which is like, never. Still.”

He’d kept slicing. It was bizarre, just how different her life was from his. The most expensive present he’d ever received from his parents was the chain around his neck. His first dozen years as a doctor were spent climbing out from under the mountain of student loan debt threatening to sink him.

“Hey, what’s the coolest gift you’ve ever received?”

He thought about it, distracted by the question, “I don’t know.” He wondered if there was a hope in hell he ever impress her, when the gift of a massive townhouse had only been accepted out of obligation.

”When I was sixteen, DJ bought a pair of like, janitor coveralls and a pack of fake moustaches, and we used them to sneak into the movie theatre. I still have them.” She dug in a cupboard for a pan and slapped it on the stove, pouring oil in right after. She left it to heat and met him at the island.

”Couldn’t afford the ticket?” He joked.

Gracie laughed, “I know, so dumb. It was fun though.”

He watched her take the cutting board from him and slide everything into the pan. She’d kept going. Told him a half-dozen stories about her brother and he’d marveled at her easy ability to share something that must have been painful. It had almost killed her to lose him, but there she was laughing at an old story like it was the easiest thing in the world.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and it was enough to break him from the memory. He dug for it and glanced at the text.

Coming in?

He hesitated a second longer. The memory was so safe. So nice. He didn’t want to go inside and wreck it. But he couldn’t sit in his fucking jeep forever either. He grabbed his pack and shoved the door open. He put his phone back in his pocket without replying and jogged up the front steps. The door was unlocked, Gracie always left it that way when he was coming. He kicked off his shoes in the entry, dropped his pack, and trudged around the corner to the living room.

Gracie was standing at the arm of her couch, grinning at him, her phone in one hand. She waved it, “Hello there.”

”Hey,” it came out okay. Only a little choked.

”How was your day?” She crossed the floor and reached up to press a hand to his cheek.

He leant into the touch. It had been awful, and for none of the usual reasons, “Fine.”

Gracie hummed like she might believe him. She stood on her toes to press a kiss to his mouth and he followed when she pulled away, to kiss her a little more firmly. She hummed again, then pulled away properly and poked his chest, “Go shower.”

”Yes ma’am,” he agreed, but his feet didn’t move.

Gracie tilted her head. She studied him. Then she poked him again, “Seriously. I can’t hug you when you’re covered in emergency room germs.”

He didn’t want to leave her orbit, he wanted to savour what he would get before the question spilled out of him, but he wanted that hug before it did. He turned back toward the entryway and trudged off up the stairs.

Robby didn’t have a key to Gracie’s place, and she didn’t have a key to his, but their stuff had managed to cross over anyway. He had a couple pairs of pants and some tshirts in her closet because she had insisted he be able to change if he came over after a shift. It had felt huge, but it was just her being practical. He showered in her ensuite bathroom, dressed slowly, and brushed his teeth. It occurred to him, as he looked in the mirror, that he was trying to waste time.

There wasn’t any point in it, he’d have to go downstairs eventually or she would come up. He hit the light switch and took his time descending to the kitchen.

He could hear Gracie pulling plates out of the cupboard halfway down the stairs and followed the noise. She had a pair of pizza boxes on the counter and a slice already in her hand, which she dropped to one of the plates when she saw him.

“Sorry,” She said around her bite, hand lifted to cover her mouth, “I really tried to wait.”

”It’s okay,” he had been taking forever. He went to stand across the island and let his eyes roam over her. She was wearing a grey dress that fit snug over her chest and hips and pulled the same colour from her eyes. She was beautiful. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She tilted her head and studied him in return. He wondered what it was that she saw.

”You get to drink that milkshake?” She asked, reaching for her slice again and shoving the box toward him with her other hand.

”A little,” he ignored the box, and the plate that followed it, “Jack said you chatted.” A huge swell of anxiety rose up thinking about what exactly Jack had said, and he tried to squash it down.

”Uh-huh,” Gracie swallowed her bite, “I gave him first dibs on his flavour so sorry if you’re a chocolate man.”

Robby shook his head. He didn’t give a fuck about the flavour of the milkshake, “He said-“ he paused. Tried to banish a little of the dry feeling stuck to his tongue, “He said you knew it was going to melt before I drank it. He thinks I’m misunderstanding a gesture.”

Gracie’s eyebrows scrunched together. She tilted her head, “I don’t- are you? I know you’ve got no time to hang out and drink coffee or whatever when you’re at work. I just figured that whether or not it's cold when you get it doesn’t really matter, you’d know I was thinking about you.”

He nodded slowly, “Thank you.”

She smiled, “You’re welcome?”

Robby reached to pull the pizza box closer, and flipped the lid open. Pepperoni with olives. His favourite, which she hated. He closed the box.

Gracie’s smile slipped, “Are you not hungry?”

”Jack said you told him something else.”

”Okay?” They looked at each other across the island. Slowly, Gracie developed a concerned expression. She put her plate down.

Robby licked his lip, “Did you tell him you love me?”

He had thought he was pretty good at reading her. He could tell when she was in pain, or sad, or annoyed. He knew she twisted up the edge of her sleeve when she was nervous, and got snippy when she was hungry. He could recognize the bright, happy second wind she got before she crashed when she was tired. But he couldn’t read the expression on her face at all. Gracie tapped her index finger on the counter twice. She tilted her head and opened her mouth.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to hear it. Why hadn’t he kept his fucking mouth shut? He could’ve left it alone and carried on perfectly happy. He could’ve eaten his favourite pizza, and sat on the couch with her, and then herded her to bed and gone to sleep all wrapped up together.

“Yes.”

It was like getting electrocuted. All his nerves lit up and zinged wildly, “Why?”

Gracie answered immediately, “Because I do.” His heart beat impossibly hard. He felt torn open and Gracie didn’t seem to notice. She kept going, “I’m really sorry. I keep thinking it, but I didn’t think you were ready to hear me say it out loud, so I didn’t. It must’ve slipped out earlier. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

”I’m not freaking out,” he muttered.

”Aren’t you?” Her eyebrows knit together.

He felt weird. Sort of floaty, ”What do you mean I’m not ready?”

”I just,” She chewed at her lip, “I thought you might not believe me if I said it. Not to mention it’s sort of serious and you didn’t want to leave sweatpants here, much less approach the conversation of like, exchanging keys or moving in together, or what the fuck we’re going to do for the holidays. I didn’t want to say it and then you freak out ‘cause you don’t want that and then- oh my God, I’m doing it. I’m freaking out.” She shoved away from the counter and sucked in a breath, shaking her hands out at the wrists as she did it, “Oh fuck.”

“Gracie,” He abandoned his place by the barstools to round the island and reach for her hands. She let him take them. He had been freaking out. All day. But only because he was worried the whole thing was some awful misunderstanding. It wasn’t. She loved him. He needed to hear it properly, “Tell me.”

”What?”

“Tell me. C’mon Gracie, I want to hear it. I won’t freak out, I swear.” He let go of her hands to slide one of his through her hair, the other settling like an anchor on her waist.

She wrapped cold fingers around his bicep. For a second they were right on the edge of it, then, “I love you, Michael.”

He kissed her, rough and firm and with all the weight of the thing that had occupied his whole heart for over four years. He felt the give of her mouth under his, and the grip of her hand on his arm. He wanted to stay there forever but he wanted the rest of it too, “Give me a key. I don’t- shit I’ll make you one tonight,” he kissed her again and felt the smile on her lips, “Let’s spend the holidays as fucking far from your father as we can get, all eight days of Hanukkah. Christmas. Whatever,” He celebrated one, sort of, and she celebrated the other and it had never occurred to him to ask what they would do when the calendar rolled around to December.

He let go of the handful of her hair and dipped to get his hands under her ass and haul her up onto the counter. She laughed, “Careful!”

He probably should have been, he wasn’t as young as he had been, but he couldn’t manage to care. He stepped between her legs and ducked to kiss her again, licking a hot path into her mouth. Gracie got one hand in his hair and the other fisted in the waistband of his pants to pull him closer and he lost his train of thought for a second at the urgency, but he wasn’t as young as he had been and he’d learned some patience. He could hold onto it even though Gracie had none, “I’m moving in tomorrow,” he had the rest of the weekend off, he could do it. His apartment wasn’t that full.

He leant to kiss her again, but Gracie ducked away, “No!” she dropped his waistband and gripped his shirt instead, “You can’t move in here, it’s way too far from the hospital!”

“I don’t care,” he answered automatically, the anxiety and fear soothed away as quickly as they’d sparked.

“I care!” She slid her hand from his hair down to skim the edge of his jaw, “Besides, I’d way rather move into your apartment.”

“Gracie, this place has three bathrooms,” he tilted his head toward the bar on the far wall of the kitchen, “There’s a wine fridge,” His apartment was nice, but it wasn’t the kind of place the heiress to an indeterminable fortune lived.

“So? There’s only two of us and wine sucks,” She studied his face, half frowning.

He was aware of her stance on wine. She refused to drink it unless she’d already had a cocktail, and then complained about it while she did. He liked wine, and he liked the wine fridge, “You can’t move out of your multi-million dollar townhouse, to live in my apartment, just because it’s close to the hospital.”

“But you like to walk to work,” she sounded bewildered. Like she genuinely couldn’t see why not.

He caught her mouth and kissed her hard, leaning to press his whole front to the length of hers until she fell back on her elbows. She wrapped her legs around the backs of his thighs and tried to pull him impossibly closer where he was already fitted against her, the fabric of her dress bunched up around her hips to accommodate him.

Gracie shoved at his chest and fell back a little further. She turned her head when he tried to follow and said, breathless, “I got it, we’ll buy a new place, close to the hospital.”

It was an insane thing for her to say, “That would cost a fortune,” he skimmed his hands up her thighs to shove her dress up a little higher, let his right hand keep wandering up to palm across her breast.

“Yeah,” She nodded and turned her head back to face him, “I’m very rich.”

Robby knew that. He just didn’t expect her to be willing to spend her riches on him. The same way he didn’t expect that she loved him back, and would be willing to live with him, and spend the holidays locked up somewhere they didn’t have to see anyone, “Shit-” he shoved up to stand properly and buried his fingers under the hem of her underwear, “Off.”

“Oh, holy fuck,” Gracie dropped her head back to the counter and lifted her hips off the marble so he could peel the dark fabric away and toss it off toward the dining room.

He wrapped his hands under her knees and hauled her closer to the edge. The little squeak that fell from her lips caught his attention and he glanced up from where she was already wet to meet her eyes. He’d been concerned once, that while Gracie might like him, she wouldn’t want him. The worry didn’t last for very long but he still took a minute to savour the look of her every time he peeled off her clothes. Her pupils were wide, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. She had her lip pinned between her teeth to keep from whimpering but it would only last until he got his mouth between her legs, “We should get married.”

A laugh burst from her lips, “Right now?”

“No,” He answered, frowning. He hadn’t meant to say that, “No, that’s insane, sorry.” At least she was smiling, like it was a joke they were sharing, “I’m still going to get on my knees though.”

The laugh turned into a whine, “Aren’t you too old for that?”

Robby lowered himself to his knees. He’d feel it later, but fuck if that made him inclined to stop. The counter was a decent height, but he was tall enough to make it work, “If I ever get too old for this, put me in the ground.”

Gracie’s answering laugh turned into a gasp, then a whine, when he licked up through her folds, more to get a taste of her than anything else.

He had told her, months ago, that he wanted to take care of her. He couldn’t do it at the hospital, she wasn’t sick, thank fuck, and he couldn’t touch her chart if she was. But there were a thousand other little ways he’d found to do it. His tongue running slow circles around her clit was only one of them.

He liked the little whines she made when she was trying to be quiet that gave way to broken moans when he pressed his lips to her and sucked. He liked to take his time, slow licks and gentle sucks and the teasing dip of his tongue just past her entrance that made her roll her hips in an attempt to get more, and which he wouldn’t give her. It was just about the only thing he’d deny her, and only because there was something he wanted, and if he was patient enough he could get it.

”Michael-Please, please-“ Gracie gripped hard at his shoulder and rolled her hips in an attempt to get his mouth where she wanted it.

The begging was pretty, he thought, but sometimes they disagreed on the difference between what she wanted, and what she needed. He wrapped his left hand around her thigh to keep her still and let his right run up her thigh slowly to tease across the hollow at the apex of her thigh, her folds, the edge of soft, wet heat-

Her nails bit into his shoulder, “Jesus-fuck, Robby-“

There it was. He slid a finger into her to stroke, firm and careful, sucked at her clit, and felt her come apart. He worked her through it with the slow glide of his hand and gentle laps of his tongue. Gracie’s broken moan of his name, the one she didn’t call him anymore, went straight through him.

Gracie made an irritated whine when he pulled out of her grip to sit back on his heels and wipe his face half-heartedly on the shoulder of his tshirt, “Come back here.”

“Give me a second,” Making her come always had him a little stupid, like he was the one who’d gotten off and wasn’t still painfully hard.

“No,” She stretched out her leg to poke him in the chest, “Come fuck me on the counter before I sell this place.”

Robby caught her foot and pressed a kiss to the inside of her calf. He hadn’t fucked her a lot of places that weren’t her bed or his, that seemed like a young man’s game, but it was awfully tempting, “Be serious.”

”Were you not serious?”

He couldn’t see her face from his spot on the floor. He grabbed the edge of the counter at her hip and hauled himself up, ignoring the angry crack of his left knee, “Gracie.”

”What?” Her blue-grey eyes met his. There was a little smile on her lips and the flush of her cheeks had migrated down toward her collarbone.

Maybe she had been right. Maybe he hadn’t been ready to hear an ‘I love you’ from her lips because he was having a hard time believing her, “What if-“ What if she realized she didn’t love him after all? What if she didn’t like living with him? What if the job she said she didn’t mind became too much? What if she realized he was a fucking mess?

She reached to get a fist in his shirt and pulled so he was forced to follow and settle with his elbows on the marble on either side of her head, ”You wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah,” she was warm against his chest.

“One of the worst parts of being sick-“

”Grace-“ He didn’t want to talk about her being sick, but she kept going over his protest.

”-Was getting better. Because I didn’t get to see you anymore,” She chewed her lip, “I missed you. And I didn’t realize until I broke my arm that it was because I’m in love with you,” She scratched her nails up the back of his neck, into his hair, to pull him closer until their lips were almost fitted together. She whispered, “Do you believe me?”

”Yes,” He answered, because how could he not? He closed the slim gap between them and kissed her slowly. He took his time licking across her lip and past it to explore her mouth for what might’ve been the thousandth time but felt like the first. Gracie let him continue his slow path until he sucked at her tongue.

”Fuck- c’mon,” She reached awkwardly to shove at his waistband, “I love you, please fuck me.”

Robby thought the moment deserved more romance, candles and flowers, or at the very least a bed, but he really couldn’t tell her no when she begged that sweetly. He swatted her hand out of the way to shove his sweats down himself and was inside of her with a firm snap of his hips, the glide slick and easy and tight enough to make his head spin.

He ate the moan she gave him and each little gasp after that, his mouth locked to hers in a sloppy, open kiss. He hooked his arm under her leg, pressing it back and locking her in place so he could fuck into her a little harder, his strokes deep and purposeful.

Gracie kissed him back, licking desperately into his mouth while her hands roved across his back and down his chest before finally settling in a tight grip on his shirt. She rolled her hips up to meet him, whined at the friction, and broke from his mouth to press her forehead to his neck instead.

He shifted to meet her where she wanted him with every snap of his hips. He could feel her gasping breaths on his skin and ducked to kiss her again, all tongue and teeth and wet heat. Gracie came with a whine and a shudder and he let himself follow after, slowing to a gentle roll of his hips to savour the feel of filling her up.

He kept his hips locked to hers as he broke from her mouth to rest his forehead on her chest and haul in deep breaths of air he hadn’t realized he was lacking. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t worried. There was no catastrophe waiting in the wings to hurt him. There couldn’t be with Gracie’s hands on his neck and all the love she wanted to give him settled in his chest.

“Hey,” She whispered.

“Hm?”

Her voice was low and almost nervous, ”You didn’t say it.”

It took him a second to realize what she was getting at. He lifted his head to meet her eyes and thumbed across her cheekbone, “I’ve been in love with you since the first day you walked into my ED.”

Her mouth split into a wide grin, “Oh my God, did you pine for me?”

Everyone he worked with knew the answer to that one, he wasn’t sure how she’d missed it. He kissed the smile off her face in answer.

Chapter Text

“I fucked up.”

The statement from any member of his team would have been bad. Coming from Jack it felt apocalyptic.

Robby swiveled from the computer he was charting at and yanked off his glasses. What kind of rule had Jack broken that he felt the need to announce the mistake, when a few weeks before he’d slammed a visitor into the charge station and treated it like no big deal?

Jack looked upset. His hands were tucked in his pants pockets and he was slouched, a deep frown on his face. There was no blood on his clothes, and he didn’t seem like he was in a hurry.

Robby frowned and glanced at the time over his shoulder. It was only 7:04. Surely, that wasn’t enough time for Jack to have gotten to work and fucked up thoroughly enough to warrant the announcement?

”I asked Grace for a favour,” Jack continued with gravity.

That was-

Fine. That was fine. Jack had spent a total of six assorted days at Gracie’s townhouse. He didn’t really talk about the time they spent alone together, aside from telling Robby whatever odd thing she’d done during the day, but Gracie talked about it. She’d told him about bullying Jack into cooking breakfast, playing several rounds of cribbage, and trying to deduce what sort of music he liked to listen to through careful study.

Robby was pretty sure they liked each other, thank god, because he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if they didn’t. Jack asking for a favour seemed like the kind of thing he would only do with a friend. It was a good sign. Robby didn’t understand the problem. Of course, it was fairly likely Gracie would demand something absurd in exchange for whatever it was. Maybe that was the issue?

”Okay?” Robby offered hesitantly, “What kind of favour?”

Jack winced, “I needed help getting a friend out of jail.”

His eyebrows shot up. That was a hell of a favour and he didn’t think it was Gracie’s sort of law. She didn’t really talk about the time she’d spent actively practicing, but it had seemed to mostly involve financial contracts, “Shit. Was she able to help?”

”Yeah,” Jack nodded, but he didn’t seem happy about it, “She called a guy she knew.”

Robby nodded. It didn’t surprise him that she knew someone who could help where she couldn’t. She was constantly texting some connection or another to do work with the charity she helped run. It wasn’t to mention her father’s extensive network, or her own peers from her time in law school. She seemed to know a million people around the city, all of whom were willing to lend her a hand. “That’s good,” he offered.

“Doctor Robby can you sign off on this order? It’s a pain management patient and Collins is still with the spleen guy,” Santos hit the desk beside him and offered the tablet in her hand, “Hey Doctor Abbot.”

Robby took it automatically and replaced his glasses to check the chart, “Spleen guy is about to be your problem, Jack. Real piece of work. Looks good to me,” he offered the tablet back to Santos. Jack across the desk had transitioned from frowning to scowling, “I don’t see the issue, is your friend out of jail?”

“Jail?” Santos mumbled. She took the tablet and didn’t walk away.

“He’s out.” Jack flicked a glance at the intern, then looked at Robby, “The problem is the lawyer Grace called.”

Robby was lost, “What about him?”

“Grace said she had to offer him a favour in exchange for helping out on short notice. And he seemed to think the favour was a date,” there was heavy scorn on the last word.

Santos let out a surprised, “Oh, shit.” Together, Robby and Jack turned to look at her. She glanced rapidly between them and muttered, “Sorry. I- sorry.”

Robby turned back to Jack, “Gracie wouldn’t agree to a date.”

“No,” Jack agreed, “But she agreed to something, and he was angling for me to help him make a good impression.”

Robby frowned. He trusted Gracie. He’d never had a reason not to. He couldn’t imagine her agreeing to meet some guy for a date. He could imagine her agreeing to meet some guy in exchange for a favour that helped a friend. And he could imagine some guy, any guy, every guy, trying to turn a little of Gracie’s time into a date.

He scowled, “Who is this fucking guy?”

“Wyatt Irving,” Jack replied.

“He’s a defense lawyer?”

“Not for regular people,” Jack pulled his hands from his pockets and gripped the edge of the desk, “His suit cost more than my rent.”

“Holy shit,” Santos said.

“Why are you still here?” Jack asked, shooting her a dark look.

“What did he look like?” Robby asked. He was trying hard to picture the friends of Gracie’s that he’d met. She ran into someone often enough when they went out that he might’ve been introduced to the man and promptly forgotten his name. He thought he might remember a face.

”I don’t know,” Jack waved a hand, “Fucking- young.”

Right. Younger than Robby then. Young enough, probably, to be appropriate for Gracie. He grit his teeth.

”You could look him up,” Santos offered.

”Why the hell-“ Jack dropped his hands from the desk and turned to Santos properly.

”Hang on,” Robby held up a palm to stop him. He glanced at Santos sidelong. He was aware that asking would lead to a veritable gossip circus, but they’d already crossed that bridge by having the conversation in the middle of the ED, “Look him up how?”

Santos bit her lip, then said, “Instagram?”

Robby squinted at her. Did she think he had an Instagram account?

“Have you not heard of-“

Jack huffed, “He’s heard of fucking Instagram, we’re not that old. Go ahead then.” He waved at her to emphasize the order.

Santos blinked in surprise, then pulled her phone from her pocket. She tapped at the screen for a minute, then muttered, “Oh my God.” She turned the screen out toward Jack, “This guy?”

Jack leant forward to survey the screen and scowled, “Yeah.”

Santos pulled her phone back, glanced at the screen one more time, then offered it to Robby.

He took it. He looked at the first picture. Then swiped with his thumb and looked at the second. Then the third. He offered the phone back to Santos, and looked at Jack.

Santos swiped across her screen a few times, her eyebrows raised, “This guy is seriously hot.”

”Santos!” Jack snapped, “Job. Now.”

“Sorry!” She shoved her phone in her pocket, grabbed the tablet from the desk and darted off past Donnie, who was definitely eavesdropping, but was at least being subtle about it.

Robby ground his teeth together hard.

Jack watched Santos scramble off and frowned. He pushed off the desk and tucked his hands in his pockets, “Sorry.”

”It’s fine,” Robby muttered, “I trust Gracie.”

He just really didn’t trust Wyatt fucking Irving. He wished he’d kicked Santos back to work a little quicker. He really hadn’t needed to see the photos. The man was young, and good looking, and every picture seemed to be of him doing something interesting. The third had been taken in Amsterdam. It was like he’d been conjured out of thin air to highlight all of Robby’s insecurities.

It was fine. He wasn’t going to let himself spin out over someone Gracie was only seeing as a favour. He trusted her and she loved him. He was twitchy and irritated when he got home anyway. He wondered if hitting something might make him feel better. Probably not, and he wouldn’t, he just needed to do something to release the steam building in his chest.

He expected an empty apartment. It happened sometimes, though less and less frequently, that Grace had plans or he worked late, and they didn’t see each other after he was off. She was supposed to be doing something with Max, but when he opened his front door she was sitting on his kitchen counter instead.

The relief was bone-deep.

She offered him a little grin, “Hi, how was work?”

Her voice was slow and neutral, nowhere near the quick bright tone she usually favoured, and his relief burned up in an angry spark of anxiety, “Fine,” he dropped his pack, kicked off his shoes, and crossed the kitchen tile to get a hand on her knee, “What’re you doing here?”

She looked about the same as usual but the line of her body was tense. Her hair was pulled halfway up and she was dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a blue long sleeve. He thought ripped jeans were stupid, but he liked that he could slide his fingers in the gap to land on the skin of her thigh.

She gave a little hum to indicate thinking and leant to kiss him. For once she didn’t seem to care that he’d spent the day in a hospital. She pressed right against him, her mouth soft on his. He could feel her relax under his hand. After a long minute she pulled away and said, “I fucked up.”

He wished he wasn’t getting quite so much of that from the people he loved after a full shift. He could understand why Jack thought he’d fucked up. He was a little nervous as to why Gracie thought she had, “Do you want to tell me about it?” He really needed to hear about it, but he thought phrased as a question, it might not give away how badly he was already spiraling.

“Yeah. Do you want to shower first?”

He didn’t but he nodded anyway. He always had a little difficulty extricating himself when his hands were on her but he managed to summon up the willpower and knew that once he changed, she would be willing to let him wrap himself around her and not let go.

He showered quickly, pulled on sweats and a tshirt, and tried not to think about anything as he did it. He didn’t need to speculate, Gracie was going to tell him exactly what was going on, because she told him everything.

He found her on the couch when he was done, frowning at her phone. He let himself sink onto the cushion beside her. Gracie glanced at him, and tossed her phone into exile on the armchair a few feet away. Then she hitched her knee up beside his thigh to swing her other leg across him and settle onto his lap.

It was interesting, he thought, the way Gracie liked to spend time with him. She liked to be touching. A little if there were other people around. She’d hold his hand when they walked down the street, or rest her foot against his if they were sitting at a restaurant. A lot if they were alone. She’d sit in his lap, or lay with her head on his thigh on the couch. She’d lie half on top of him in bed, and grumble if his book got in the way of her doing so. The weight of her was comforting. He’d done all the reaching out for so long, it felt good every time she bridged the space on her own.

“So,” she started, looping her hands around the back of his neck, “Did Jack tell you his friend got arrested?”

Robby reached to take her hands and removed them to a less startling location to warm up against his chest, “Yes. He said you called in a favour to help.”

“Uh-huh, I sure did,” She didn’t seem very happy about it, “Jack seemed pretty stressed on the phone and he’s never called me before so I thought it was important. I probably could have done it myself, it sounds like the cops fucked up pretty bad, but I really didn’t want to risk landing his friend in jail. I called the best defense guy I know.”

Robby nodded. He knew that sometimes it was best to just let her go and she would circle around to the point eventually, but she didn’t seem inclined to continue, “How do you know him?”

Her lips twisted briefly together. Then she said flatly, “We dated. After I graduated university.”

That was not good news.

”For like three years.”

That was worse news.

”We actually moved to Philly together.”

Holy fuck, she was trying to kill him.

He couldn’t be sure what look crossed his face but Gracie twisted her hands to hold his and said quickly, “It didn’t work out, obviously, and we don’t really keep in touch, he just ended up at this big firm my dad deals with a lot, and he spends his time getting old rich guys out of trouble for actual prosecutable crimes. I figured an assault charge would be no big, I could pay his retainer, bam, everyone’s happy.”

Robby wasn’t happy.

”Except, he was supposed to have another client this morning and I had to convince him to cancel and take Jack’s thing instead. Also, no big, I’m a lawyer too, I can be very convincing.”

He wondered at what point she would start convincing him the whole situation was okay.

Gracie huffed. She looked annoyed, “Unfortunately, our negotiation ended with me agreeing to go to the Les and Stroud thing on Saturday.”

Robby ground his teeth together. He wondered if she could feel the fretful beat of his heart under her hand, “What thing?”

”Ugh,” She leant back across his knees and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, “It’s this charity banquet thing that his firm puts on. They invite all their big clients so they can pretend they’re not completely morally bankrupt, and spend the whole evening angling for bigger contracts.”

Slowly, Robby licked across his lip. He was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t been wrong earlier. He felt cold, “You agreed to be his date?”

”No!” Then, “Yes?” She frowned. Then she twisted her hands to grip his in her left and set her right on his jaw, “Not like a date, date. I grew up going to these things, they’re all political. It looks good on him if he brings someone that’s willing to donate a bunch of money and can schmooze with the partners.”

Robby was starting to think he might be a little angry. He’d never been angry with her before, “Does this guy think it’s a date, date?”

“He’d be pretty fucking dumb if he did,” Gracie said, and her tone was a little mocking, “I told him I’m engaged.”

The surprise hit him like a lightning strike, “You what?”

She shrugged and stroked her hand up his jaw and into his hair, “You joked about it the other day so I figured you wouldn’t mind if I pretended. It seemed like the easiest way to impart the seriousness of my relationship.” She raked her nails gently over the skin at the back of his neck, “I figured I’d throw on one of the family rings in the safe and that would really sell it.”

He definitely wasn’t angry anymore but he couldn’t decide what he was instead. She wanted people, Wyatt Irving specifically, to know they were serious. Ring serious. Did she really think they were ring serious?

”Sorry,” She huffed out a breath and muttered, “I wouldn’t have met him for coffee without talking to you first, but the whole Jack, panic, someone in jail thing really created a sense of urgency,” Her frown twisted a little further, “Plus I really didn’t want to cancel our Saturday.”

Robby had completely forgotten they’d had plans, he was too wrapped up in the rest of it. He fit his thumbs into the hinge of her thigh to wrap around her hips, “It was just a movie.”

“Yeah,” she said, “And milkshakes,” like the real tragedy was in them not spending the evening stretched across her couch with a stupid action movie playing.

It occurred to him that she might really feel that way. She liked to smush against him on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and play a game where she guessed the likelihood out of ten that a character’s actions would land them in critical care. It had shocked her to know that getting punched in the face was enough to do it in a surprising number of cases. He’d told her absently how many bar fight participants aspirated teeth and it had sent them down a rabbit hole.

He liked playing their game. He didn’t want her to go off with a man she’d dated for three years instead. Much less one who was rich and attractive and age appropriate. But she’d agreed to go to do Jack a favour and he couldn’t ask her to go back on a deal.

“We could do milkshakes after,” he said mildly.

Gracie gasped, “Oh! I can get them on the way home! I bet I can be out of there by ten. Nine if I really lay it on thick with Les. Should be easy, he already loves me. Will you wait up for me?”

”Yes,” There wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do for her, “You’re really going to pretend we’re engaged?”

”Oh hell yeah,” She grinned, “You wanna help me pick my fake ring?”

He didn’t, but he thought he might not mind helping her pick a real one, “Alright. Can I ask you something?”

”Always.”

He wasn’t sure it wouldn’t hurt to hear but he had to know, “Why’d you break up with this guy?”

Gracie raised her eyebrows, “Did you hear the part where I said everyone at this firm is morally bankrupt? Employees and clients. Wyatt’s not an exception,” She shifted to press her forehead to his, “I wanted a partner with a heart.”

Except he didn’t have one anymore. Not really. It was all hers. He lifted a hand to tangle in her hair and tug her gently to meet him in a kiss. The soft kind that lingered as they traded slow breaths, fingers gliding over skin. Gracie was sweet. He trusted her. She would be gentle with his heart.

They made plans, new ones, for Saturday. He was off so they would spend the day together, hiking outside the city which would probably lead to baked goods when they got back. Then Gracie would get ready and go to her event, and Robby would stay at her place trying not to let it eat at him until she arrived.

For three days, two that he worked and one that he didn’t, things were fine. Pretty good, all things considered. He didn’t worry much about the event lurking in the future, or about Wyatt Irving. The remainder of his shifts were busy enough to keep his mind occupied, but not so busy that he left feeling like he’d been hit by a car.

On Saturday morning, for possibly the first time, Gracie woke before him and made coffee. Her sudden energy lasted about as long as it took to get ready and into the car, and she spent the majority of the drive out of the city napping against the passenger window.

It used to be the case that Robby hiked by himself. Or camped. Or fished, though he didn’t do it very often.

It turned out, and he couldn’t have guessed as much from anything else about her, that Gracie liked camping. She’d gone with him twice. She would pack a couple of books, put on her ridiculous blanket sweater, and park herself by the fire to demand he make s’mores.

She liked hiking too, though the start was always rough. She hated to get up early and they were usually twenty minutes up a trail before she managed to say anything and he had to walk close to her elbow to catch her when she tripped before that. At some point the air or the exercise would wake her up enough that she’d start to chat, and the rest of the hike she’d point out animals or flowers or interestingly shaped rocks. At some point, inevitably, she’d pick up a rock and shove it in her pocket, despite his trying to impart on her the whole ‘leave no trace’ rule.

He didn’t try to take her fishing. He didn’t think she could maintain a silence long enough to catch anything.

On their way back in, Gracie insisted they stop at a little bakery a couple blocks from his apartment. He’d been expecting the ask. She liked to get a treat on Saturdays and she liked to get a treat after hiking. He parked the car and followed her in. She ordered a latte and a croissant, he got a coffee and a donut.

It was mid-afternoon, clear-skied and sunny when they stepped back out onto the sidewalk. It had been beautiful all day. He thought they were in something of a hurry, she had a banquet to be getting ready for, but she turned her feet the opposite direction of the car and started walking, intent on some other task he wasn’t privy to. He followed.

Gracie told him about the book she was reading while they walked, some cowboy romance that sounded ridiculous, and he’d told her about the article on patient’s weight influencing medical care that he’d been reading.

He’d been concerned at one point that his talk about the hospital and medical studies would bore her, but it didn’t. She would listen and only interrupt with clarifying questions that he would answer before continuing. Then, when he was finished telling her about whatever it was he’d been telling her, she’d ask extremely insightful questions that reminded him how fucking smart she was.

She stopped a few blocks from the coffee shop, “Okay, right here.”

Robby glanced around, eyebrows raised. He hadn’t known where they were going, but he’d assumed a shop of some kind. Thrift or book or gift. She liked to peruse all three. Instead they were on a semi-residential street. There was a row of tallish, mostly brick buildings on either side. He could see a little deli of some kind and a restaurant on the ground floor of two of them, signs for offices of some kind above them, “What am I looking at?”

”That one,” Gracie pointed directly across the street, her eyes on him.

Robby followed her gesture. The building she was pointing at was four stories, with blue-green wood siding. The first three floors had a wide balcony on the left side, and a right covered in large windows. The fourth was mostly faced in glass that banked up onto the sloped roof. It was a nice building, nestled back a little ways from the street amongst neatly trimmed shrubs and low trees, “What about that one?”

Gracie clicked her tongue, “Do you want to live in that one?”

He stared at it. Then he looked at her. Gracie had been, for several weeks, making jokes about their moving. It had infected him, a little. But, while she made offhand comments, he was pretty sure that his moving in suggestion was like his proposal. It had spilled out of his mouth, was received with grace, and then put away on a shelf as something he hadn’t really meant.

Her blue-grey eyes were serious, fixed on his face, her head tilted a little the way it did when she was waiting for him to make a decision, “Can I see the inside?”

”Oh, yeah!” She turned and glanced both ways down the road before skipping off across it. He followed more sedately, not entirely convinced she wasn’t playing some sort of prank on him, “I’ve only looked at the pictures, I figured there was no point actually going in if you didn’t like the location,” she waved at the street at large.

He glanced down the road again. He hadn’t walked down the street they were on before, but he knew where they were. His current apartment was a few blocks north. He was fairly certain they weren’t any further from the hospital than it was, just in a slightly different direction.

Gracie led him up the steps to the door. There was an electronic lock on it and she punched in a code and then led him through into the entryway. It was a narrow hall, mostly brick, with the door to the first unit on the right and a set of stairs directly ahead. Beside the stairs at the end of the hall was an elevator door. Gracie took the stairs, “I have been strongly assured that we would not be hearing sirens nor the neighbours in the middle of the night. It’s a pretty new building so the soundproofing is excellent.”

They looped around the second story landing, then up another flight of stairs. There was another electronic lock on the third floor unit’s door and Gracie punched in another code, then was through into the apartment. Robby followed and pulled the door shut behind him.

The space was bigger than he expected. A huge open living area with warm wooden floors. It extended at one end into a kitchen, not unlike Gracie’s with stainless appliances and marble floors. The wall at one side was all windows, the sort that one could pull back fully to expose the balcony, with huge panels above that blended into skylight. There was a set of stairs at one side that led to the loft that overhung the kitchen, big enough that one could use it for a bedroom or an office.

Gracie was already over inspecting the balcony through the windows with interest.

Robby wandered down the hall at the end of the living room. He glanced through the first door, a bathroom, with a massive tub and shower both. The next was a bedroom, large and with equally impressive windows though there were what appeared to be electronic blinds hung across them.

The last door was another bedroom, bigger than the first and with similarly expensive blinds. There was one wall of warm brick, accented with wooden beams, and the rest were a deep charcoal colour. There were two doors on the opposite side of the room and he moved to glance through each. The first was a closet, nearly as ridiculous as the one in Gracie’s townhouse, full of built-in shelves, drawers and cupboards. The second was another bathroom, easily as insane as the one down the hallway.

He crossed to sit on the edge of the tub.

The space was beautiful. Bigger than his place but smaller than Gracie’s. The warm wood and brick would suit her better than her own white and slate townhouse, he thought. There was just the issue of-

“There is not a wine fridge,” Gracie announced. She appeared in the doorway and hooked a thumb over her shoulder, “But I think the pantry makes up for it.” There was a wide grin on her face, “What do you think?”

He settled for the truth, “I love it.”

“Yes!” She clapped her hands together and bounced to meet him, “I knew this was the one! How could you resist those windows? Plus there’s a garage out back-“

“How much?”

She shrugged and stepped over the lip of the tub to lie down against the porcelain, “One car, but that’s not a deal breaker-“

“Gracie,” he turned to fix her with a firm look, “How much money?”

“Not important,” She flapped a hand dismissively, “What is important is the laundry situation in that closet. Did you see the washer? It’s going to be so convenient!”

He huffed, “Gracie.”

“Okay, fine. One point four,” She raised her voice a little to steamroll over the choked noise he made, “But only because we have to buy the whole building!”

It wasn’t as though Robby didn’t have money of his own. His salary was impressive, and he didn’t tend to spend much of it. He could’ve afforded to buy a place, and hadn’t because it seemed silly when he was on his own. He wanted to live with Gracie, and he wanted to do it somewhere nice. There was just something about her complete willingness to drop over a million dollars on an entire building.

”I’ll make it back when I sell the townhouse, so no harm no foul. Plus we could have rental income. I mean as a rule, I think landlords are demonic, but we can’t sell the units and risk getting stuck with shitty neighbours.” She frowned, “Oh hell. Now we’re stuck in a moral quandary.”

Robby supposed that he was going to have to come to terms with the fact that, for all she complained about her father doing the same thing, Gracie expressed her love with money. She was going to buy a building so that he could keep walking to work because he’d told her once that he liked doing it. He took a deep breath and let it whistle away, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

”Yes!” Gracie rolled up to her knees and wrapped her arms around his waist. She kissed his neck, up his jaw, his cheek, then his mouth, “I love you, and I love that loft. Whose couch are we keeping? Or do we just buy a new one?” She shoved up to her feet and hopped over the edge of the tub again, “Should we buy all new furniture?”

”Sure,” He answered mildly, “Remind me how rich you are again?”

”So fucking rich,” she tossed him a grin over her shoulder.

He got up and followed her back toward the living room, “What’s your dad going to say about you selling your townhouse to move in with me after six months?”

It wasn’t a secret that Gracie’s dad hated him. He had for all the years she’d been sick and Robby had just been one of her hundred doctors, and he really did now that they were dating. The irony of Declan Summers, who was seventy and currently in a relationship with a woman younger than Gracie, being furious that Robby was too old for her, was not lost on him.

Gracie scoffed, “Six months? More like four years,” She pulled open a door near the entrance that exposed another walk-in closet, “Nice. He can say whatever he wants, we both know I won’t be listening.”

Four years. She was counting all the way back to when she’d first walked into the Pitt. She had spent hours lounging around, making him laugh despite the pain she was in for, until her imaging came back and he had to give her the worst kind of news. She listened to what he told her, and then she made a joke. It wasn’t a funny joke, neither of them laughed at it, but it caught in his heart.

He spent three years overseeing her treatment when she was in the ED, and visiting her upstairs when she wasn’t. She was funny, and sweet. She told him a million stories and he told her some in return. Their relationship was messy, it crossed all kinds of lines, but they were something like friends. Something more than friends, maybe.

“Hey,” he called.

”Yeah?” She shut the closet door and turned to face him.

”Come over here.”

She turned her head and eyed him suspiciously where he stood in the middle of the space, “Why?”

He shrugged, “I think we oughta break in our new house.”

Her lips twitched up, “You want to have sex on the floor of a building we don’t own yet?”

”You don’t want to?”

Grace’s smile grew. She crossed the floor to meet him and pressed the whole length of her body against his, “No, I was just thinking it’s my turn to get on my knees.” She slid her hand down the front of his tshirt, toward the waist of his hiking pants and then further.

“Fu-ucking hell-“

Getting blown in the living room of an apartment that was going to be theirs, by the woman that he loved and who loved him back, solidified the feeling in his chest. He wasn’t jealous of the guy in the suit anymore, and he didn’t mind when he had to kiss Gracie goodbye on the sidewalk so she could Uber directly back to her townhouse because she was late.

He was happy. Thrilled, really. So much so that when Collins called to ask if he could come help work the dozen vehicle pile-up that was about to flood the ED, he said yes. He figured he could work a few hours, and when he was done he could go meet Gracie at her townhouse and return the favour he hadn’t gotten to in their new place.

He probably should have known better. A few hours of work was never just a few hours. Not when a handful of critical patients overtook the trauma bays. Not when a fistfight broke out between two of the drivers. And not when it turned out that one of them had a knife.

For a second, he honestly did think it was fine. It wasn’t the first violent incident in the Pitt, and it wouldn’t be the last. They got the patients separated and cuffed by the officers that had been lingering all evening. The knife was gone, hopefully not where someone would step on it, and everyone breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief.

Then Collins said, ”Michael!” and he knew exactly where the knife was.

Chapter Text

8:42

Heather would’ve liked to have a second to panic. Just one. It wasn’t every shift that one’s friend, because Robby was that despite everything, got stabbed. But his being a friend did nothing to discount the blood pouring to soak his side so she didn’t panic, she started barking orders instead.

“I need a gurney, O-neg, and somebody find Abbot and Walsh! Now!” Jesse already had a grip on Robby’s side so she went to the other, careful to avoid the handle sticking out between his ribs, to haul him in the direction of the trauma bays.

”Motherfuck,” Robby griped. He reached like he was going to try and touch the knife and Heather slapped his hand away, “Ow.”

”Yeah ow, what the fuck were you- Jack!” They met the gurney Whitaker screeched to a stop in front of them and Heather and Jesse together manhandled Robby onto it, despite his apparent unwillingness to lie down.

A different patient, Heather was sure she could've handled. It would’ve taken more than her alone, but she could run a trauma. She was more than capable of dealing with a knife wound. She just didn’t know if she was capable of dealing with Robby’s knife wound. Not with his side continuing to darken with blood and his face twisted up like he’d been inconvenienced.

”Mike!” Abbot ran across the remainder of the floor to meet them at the doors to trauma two, “The fuck have you been up to?” Together the lot of them were through the doors and then splitting off to work, “This is a new low in patient satisfaction scoring.”

Robby gave a scoff that might’ve been a laugh. He let Abbot shove him onto his back and didn’t watch Jesse cut away his hoodie and shirt together, “God damn road rage,” he offered, voice gravelly.

“Ultrasound, now,” Abbot ordered, grabbing handfuls of packing to press against the flat of the blade on either side. He ignored the answering curse and pressed a little harder.

Heather could do that, although she recognized she should have already started. She’d let herself get distracted, she wouldn’t do it a second time. She pulled the machine closer and set to work.

“Whitaker,” Jack barked. The kid started, then jumped to attention, “Phone, in my right pocket, call Grace.” Whitaker followed the order, He rifled for a second in Jack’s pocket then held up his phone.

Robby had his head turned to look at the ultrasound as Collins probed her way across his chest, “Don’t call Gracie, she’s busy.” Whitaker hesitated.

”Not too busy for this, brother,” Jack replied. He shot Whitaker a hard look, “Passcode’s four zeros, call her now.” He watched the kid dart out into the corridor.

Jack had treated his fair share of stab wounds. He had also treated his fair share of friends. He’d thought he was done with the latter when he’d been discharged, but life was a bitch that way. He knew that the danger of stab wounds was bleeding. It happening already in the ED gave them a better than usual chance of making sure Robby didn’t bleed to death. The danger of treating friends was that if he did, it would be Jack’s job to tell Grace before he walked himself off the roof.

”Blood in the abdomen,” Collins said, voice low like it would stop Robby from hearing.

”Fuck,” Robby remarked, “What did it hit?”

”Don’t know yet,” Jack answered, “Wanna take bets?”

”Liver.”

”You better hope not,” Jack directed his attention to Mohan where she’d stepped through the trauma bay doors, wide eyed, “Gonna need to throw in a drain, here.”

Mohan moved immediately, pulling supplies from a cart against the wall, “Where’s Walsh?”

”I don’t know, fucking page her again- Santos!” Santos took a second longer than Mohan to restart, her face pale and drawn, “Hold this, right here, press hard.”

Santos pressed her hands over his and let him slide free before she pressed down again. Robby gave a choked, “Harder than that.” In reply, Santos licked her lip once, then leant her body weight into her hands.

“Gonna have to knock you out,” Jack said, “Give me-“

”No,” Robby grit out. His eyes were on Jack.

Jack understood why. They had both looked at the ultrasound, if his pressure didn’t stabilize with a drain in place, he’d be pretty likely to arrest on the table before he got up to surgery to fix whatever was bleeding. They could both hope Grace beat traffic and was there before it happened, but Robby wouldn’t know it if he was out.

And fuck if Jack wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of his life a second time because his friend was asking him to do it.

“Alright, Collins, push morphine,” He held out his hand to Mohan for the scalpel in hers, “Give me that.”

8:58

Matteo was familiar with the saying, ‘too many cooks’. He wasn’t entirely sure if there was more to it, or what it might be, but he recognized it when he saw it. It was why there were guidelines for how many doctors or nurses or surgeons were able to work on a given case.

It got pretty handily thrown out the window when one of their own was hurt.

Trauma two contained an attending, three residents, an intern, and three nurses. When the doors opened and another person tried to enter, Matteo could hear Abbot yelling for them to get the hell out. If he was shaken at all by working on his friend, it didn’t show.

It was difficult to drag himself away to do his job, when he had an idea of what was happening behind the door. He liked Robby. They weren’t close, but he was a good guy and a good doctor. They saw each other often when their shifts overlapped. It was enough to make him feel sick.

Walsh running down the corridor and into the trauma bay didn’t make him feel any better, really. The doors opened and he could hear Abbot yelling again but instead of, ‘get the fuck out’ it was ‘where the fuck have you been’. Maybe Matteo was wrong, maybe the man was rattled because now that he was thinking about it, Abbot didn’t yell. He was unfailingly steady in any crisis.

”Oh no-“ Whitaker stumbled out from behind the desk at Matteo’s right, “Miss- Grace-“

Dennis had no idea how she’d managed to get to the hospital so quickly, much less how she’d managed to get directly into the ED. He had called her, fifteen minutes before, and done a really terrible job of explaining the situation. He didn’t want to worry her, but he thought maybe she should be worried at least a little, and he’d stammered over himself and only managed to say there was an ‘incident’ before she hung up on him.

”Where is he?” It was more of a demand than a question, harder than he’d ever heard her voice, and brittle, like it might break.

“Trauma two,” he answered automatically. Grace didn’t stop moving, taking long strides that almost broke a run, toward the trauma bay. Dennis moved to get in front of her, palms up, “You can’t go in there.”

Grace stopped in front of him and said rapidly, “Dennis I like you, but if you try to stop me you can kiss your dreams of a medical license goodbye. Wyatt.”

His mouth dropped open in surprise. He had worked on Grace once, and met her a dozen or so times since. She stopped by the ED sometimes to see Robby and if he was busy she’d settle for chatting with someone else. Occasionally she’d have food or baking delivered, enough for the whole staff. She was incredibly nice. But her body was coiled like a snake about to bite and her voice was all demanding authority.

The man trailing her, who was tall and blond and dressed in a tuxedo, answered to what Dennis realized belatedly must have been his name, “I really wouldn’t, kid.”

His confusion over the sudden change in Grace, and the guy she was with, dressed like they’d both just come from a black tie event, lasted just long enough for her to duck him and cut toward the trauma bay, “Shit, Grace!” He ran after her, because threats or not, he really couldn’t let her see Robby bleeding out on the linoleum if that’s what was happening.

Despite the heels she was wearing, Dennis didn’t beat her there. She was through the door, and stopped. He got a hand on her shoulder, aware as he did that it might be a terrible idea.

”What the hell?” Walsh snapped, “Get her out of here!”

Grace ignored her entirely to say, “Jack.”

Abbot looked up from what he was doing. There was blood across his shirt, and coating his gloves. For a second, something awful crossed his face. Then it was gone, “Mohan, take this.”

Samira did, automatically, wrapped her fingers around the end of the balloon Abbot had placed to slow the bleeding and which had worked. She looked at her hands once, then looked at Abbot. He stepped back, and around her, and went to Grace. He swatted Whittaker’s hand off her shoulder, and replaced it with one of his around her upper arm to steer her behind Walsh and between Perlah and Jesse, to the head of the gurney.

”What the fuck, Abbot?” Walsh snapped again.

“Thirty seconds, Grace, and we have to go,” Abbot muttered in Grace’s ear, and then he let her go.

There was a bloody handprint left behind on her arm, but Grace didn’t seem to notice. She also didn’t give a thought to the dress she was in that had surely cost a small fortune. She ducked, careful to avoid the oxygen line, to stroke one hand over Robby’s forehead and the other across his jaw, “Hey,” her voice was soft and easy, “I thought we had plans later.”

Robby, who between the morphine and the pain of a chest tube, had been mostly unresponsive, made a noise and tried to reach for her.

Grace reached past the tube in his chest, totally unbothered, to catch his hand and squeeze, “It’s okay. I’m here, and so is Jack. We’ve got you.”

Robby made another noise low in his throat. Abbot said, “Grace.”

Grace rolled her thumb across Robby’s jaw and pressed her mouth briefly to his forehead, “I will be right here when you get out of surgery, okay? Right here. I love you,” She squeezed his hand one more time, let go, and stepped back.

The instant she did, Abbot was moving and barking orders, taking the line in Samira’s hand and snapping, “What the fuck are you waiting for?” At Walsh like he wasn’t the one that had made the decision to keep them a handful of extra seconds.

Then they were moving, out the doors of the trauma bay, leaving Samira behind despite how badly she wanted to follow and make sure that things were going to be okay. She glanced to her right.

Grace was a pillar in the trauma bay. She had looked beautiful stepping into it, her hair curled gently around her jaw, her makeup done and flawless, the long black gown she was wearing snug and cut to show the skin at her collarbone and up the outside of her leg. She still looked beautiful, and terrible, blood on both her hands and her arm below the shoulder. Abbot’s handprint in her partner’s blood. Her expression was flat, her eyes fixed on the door.

Half of Samira’s job was listening. Emotion as much as physical injury. She thought she might be able to help Robby, by helping Grace, “Grace?”

The woman didn’t look at her, “Yes?”

”Can I-“ She stopped. Tried again, “Why don’t we get you something else to wear.”

Slowly, Grace shook her head, then looked at Samira, “Okay.”

She let herself be guided with a hand on her shoulder to the staff change room. Samira offered her a package of wipes, and went to get a pair of scrubs from the machine. They’d be better than a paper suit, and she didn’t think anyone would give her shit for dressing Grace in employee clothes. When she returned, Grace had already cleaned the blood from her arm and her hands. Samira offered her the clothes and she stripped out of her bloody gown to change.

Dressed in resident black, Grace held up her gown by the straps to survey it, her head tilted critically. Then she scrunched the whole thing up, and shoved it in the trash.

Samira trailed her back into the ED corridor, aware she ought to be hurrying to the next patient, and not able to manage it.

A man Samira didn’t know, dressed in a tux, crossed the floor to meet them, his hands in his pockets, “You alright?”

”Yes,” Grace answered, and she really did seem okay, though Samira knew how often panic and grief masqueraded as nothing in particular, “You can go home.”

“Think I better not,” the man replied. He jerked his head toward the south end, where Whitaker was standing looking more nervous than usual.

Samira decided the man must’ve been a friend of Grace’s. She cleared her throat, “I can take you up to the surgical waiting room.”

Grace shook her head, “I’d rather stay here. If that’s okay.”

She blinked. She didn’t understand why Grace would want to stay in the ED, but she wasn’t going to tell her no either, “Alright. Why don’t you wait in the lounge?”

Grace nodded, and turned to walk down the corridor. Samira watched her shove through the door into the lounge, and felt awful. The man still beside her spoke lowly, “Is he going to die?”

Samira’s eyes snapped to him, “No.” She couldn’t actually know for sure, but she put all the force she could muster behind the word. Robby wouldn’t die, because they needed him. Because he was their friend.

The man looked her in the face, like he knew her assurance was halfway a lie, and followed Grace.

9:46

Jack stalked across the floor of the Pitt. He felt dangerous. Unstable. Balanced on a knife’s edge. There was blood on his shirt and despite being long cooled, it sat like a brand against his skin.

Collins stood when she saw him, “How-“

”They kicked me out.” Jack answered. The surgeons had done it straightaway, the second someone else had their hands on the line in his. He almost hadn’t gone. He yelled a little, then he fled for the roof. He paced, lost track of time, and then got back in the elevator, “Where’s Grace?”

Collins pointed to the lounge. She looked terrible. The day shift should have long since gone home. They’d been delayed a little by the accident, and then a lot by the silent agreement that they stay for Robby. Their presence, Collins, Whitaker, Mohan, and half the nurses, wouldn’t help him. They stayed anyway.

He kept on his path. He needed to be with Grace, because Grace knew.

He didn’t make it.

It was a perk of both the night shift, and his position under Robby, that he didn’t generally need to speak with hospital administrators. But apparently the hospital gossip train had reached Gloria because there she was, dressed in her usual sort of pantsuit despite the hour. She saw him, and beelined to meet him where he stopped outside of the lounge.

”I heard what happened,” was her opening line, “Is he okay?”

On his best days, Jack didn’t have a lot of patience for agents of bureaucracy. It was not his best day, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

”Doctor Abbot,” Gloria said, voice low, “I understand you must be upset-“

”Upset?” He barked.

”The circumstances of this evening are terrible-“

“Oh, what the fuck?” He threw his hands up, “Are you serious right now? Robby’s in surgery and you’re trying to smooth it over?” His voice rose a little further, “Give me a goddamn break!”

”Lower your voice, Doctor Abbot,” Hers was hard.

Jack knew he was about to get in trouble, but he couldn’t find a fuck to give, “Don’t tell me to lower my voice, when my friend could be-“

”Jack.” His mouth snapped shut. He stared at Gloria. Then Grace’s gentle hand was on his arm and he was bending against his will, “It’s alright.”

He clamped his teeth together and turned away from Gloria to survey Grace instead. Someone had given her a pair of scrubs to wear. There wasn’t blood on her hands anymore, and she was in a pair of borrowed sneakers. She was pale, dark rings under her eyes he hadn’t seen since she was sick, but she didn’t look like she’d been crying. She squeezed his arm. Then she looked at Gloria.

”Miss Summers, I’m very sorry to hear about Doctor Robinovitch. Incidents like this should never happen.”

Jack kept his back to Gloria, and watched something flick across Grace’s face, “You’re right,” Grace said softly, “So how did it?”

Gloria, Jack thought, misunderstood the question, “I’m told that there was a fight between patients and one of them had a weapon. The police were able to contain the situation.”

”A weapon,” The tone was still soft, “How would a patient get a weapon into the emergency department, Gloria?”

Silence. Gloria clearly sensed the trap. Slowly she tried to explain, “I’m sure you can understand, Miss Summers, that the operating budget of this hospital is limited. There is only so much that security can do with what’s available.”

”Right,” Grace’s tone wasn’t soft anymore. It was all ice. She took half a step forward, “Tell me more about the budget, Gloria. It’ll make it so easy when I come to fucking dig.”

”Miss Summers-“

”Let me tell you something,” Jack had never heard the dangerous edge in her voice before, “Your only job in life just became making me fucking happy, because my life is upstairs in surgery. And for what? Because your board can’t be bothered to find space in their budget to ensure the safety of their staff?” Her voice rose, her expression all cold fury, “Better find the space Gloria. And so help me God, if Michael does not leave this hospital on his own two feet,” The ED was quiet around them, the staff all frozen and watching the exchange with the morbid fascination of a train crash, “I will rip this place to the studs and have it sold for fucking parts.”

The silence stretched.

”Go!” Grace snarled.

And Gloria did. Jack could hear the rapid click of her shoes on the floor as she fled the department. Grace didn’t relax until the noise disappeared with the creak of the stairwell door. Then she dropped his arm and pressed both hands to her eyes. She took a deep, rattling breath, muttered, “I need a minute,” and took off toward the washroom.

Jack watched her go. He barely registered the long sigh at first, it was only once Wyatt Irving stepped into his peripheral vision that he spared the man a thought. He surveyed him, “You’re still here.”

”Yeah,” Wyatt gave a slow nod.

”Why?”

Wyatt made a little humming sound. Then he looked at Jack and asked, “She ever talk about her old job?”

”No.”

Wyatt grinned, but it wasn’t exactly a happy expression, “Right. She hated it. But she was fucking unbelievable. Like it was actually impossible for her to lose. I couldn’t take it. Dozens of firms trying to recruit her and she didn’t care. Didn’t want it. Just kept doing what she was doing.” He turned his head to look at the bathroom door where Grace had disappeared, “I told her she should just quit. Move home. I thought after three years she might be inclined to fight a little. For me.” He shook his head, slowly.

”I’ve never seen her like that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, “If this is the fight she starts, you might want to send out some resumes.” He offered Jack another smile, “If you ever need a defense lawyer again, give me a call. And tell Grace I said goodbye.”

Heather watched the guy in the tux walk away. She looked at the back of the bathroom door Grace had disappeared behind. She didn’t think that Grace was likely to do anything, not while Robby was still alive upstairs somewhere, but it was the same bathroom.

She rounded the desk and went to knock on the door. There was no answer so she twisted the knob and pushed inside when it proved to be unlocked.

Grace was at the sink, both hands tightly gripping the edge, her head down.

“I’ve never seen anyone cow Gloria like that.”

Grace glanced up. Her mouth twitched into a poor imitation of a smile, “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“You’re really going to battle with the hospital?” By hospital, Heather meant her dad, and they both knew it.

Grace tapped her fingers on the sink, “When I was sick, Michael took care of me, because that’s what he does.” She shook her head a little, “This is the only thing I know how to do.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Heather knew she shouldn’t promise it, she really had no clue, but she couldn’t help it, “Is there anything I can do?”

Grace studied her in the mirror. Something passed between them. Two people that loved Robby, not quite the same way, but pretty close. After a minute Grace straightened. She tucked her hair behind her ears, “Call Dana.”

10:39

Dana could feel the difference the second she walked through the doors.

The bustle was the same. The sounds all familiar and steady. But the Pitt had never felt quite so much like a morgue.

“Dana!”

“Heather,” Dana met her in the middle of the corridor to wrap her friend in a hug. They had seen each other a few times since Dana had quit, but not as often as she had intended, “How is he?”

Heather shook her head, a gesture that meant she had no idea. It wasn’t necessarily a bad sign. Likely the surgical team knew how badly any update that wasn’t ‘stable and in recovery’ would throw off the whole department. Nevermind that the lack of an update was doing the same.

For a minute they stayed locked together. The comfort that came from a friend in the same position. Then Dana let her go and asked, “Where are they?”

“Lounge,” Collins answered, “Abbot keeps trying to work.”

“Shit,” Dana muttered, “Alright, I’ve got it.”

She was familiar with Abbot. Despite mostly having different shifts, she’d done her fair share of wrangling him. She left Collins in the corridor and went to the lounge.

The picture inside was awful. Abbot had his hands flat on the table in front of him, his expression entirely blank, and his eyes pinned on the wall. Grace, her back to the door, had her hands clutched together, her head down and pressed to them. Dana could see under the table, where Grace had her leg kicked out, her ankle pressed to Abbot’s calf.

“Hey,” Dana greeted softly. She stepped forward to press a hand to Grace’s shoulder, who lifted her head to look, “What are you two doing down here? You should be upstairs.”

“I never liked it upstairs,” Grace muttered.

Abbot said nothing. He looked at the wall.

Dana made a sympathetic noise, “Let me make some tea,” she knew it wouldn’t help them, not really, but it would give her something to do. She squeezed Grace’s shoulder and went to the counter.

“He hides it in the box of shitty granola bars now,” Grace offered.

Abbot turned his head, “How do you know that?”

Grace shrugged.

Dana found the box, and the tea hidden in it. She dug for mugs and listened to the kettle as it whined.

“I need a favour,” Grace said.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Dana turned to look at her and the picture was all wrong. Abbot studying Grace like she was dangerous. Grace with her expression hard and her eyes icy.

“I need you to make a list, paper, no texts, of incidents as far back as you can where staff got hurt. I don’t need names, just numbers. How many in the ED, how many in the waiting room, how many outside. If you can, split by patients, visitors and random people off the street.”

It wasn’t the kind of favour she expected. It was the kind that could get someone in trouble, “Grace-“

“Dana. I’m going to take care of this. Nobody gets in trouble.”

“I-“ She couldn’t do it. Except, she had quit over something similar. It had just been one incident too many, even though she had healed in a few weeks. The union had tried to get involved, demand changes, and in the end it had come to nothing. She turned away to pour hot water. Very quietly she asked, “Do you promise?”

“Yes,” Grace replied.

Dana nodded. She turned and set a mug in front of each of them, “Alright.”

“Thank you,” Grace picked up her tea, and blew away the cloud of steam. Then she set it down and picked up her phone to dial.

Dana didn’t really want to hear who she was calling. She fled the lounge to find Bridget.

Jack tried to listen to what Grace was doing, and found he couldn’t follow whatever it was. First she dialed the same number three times until someone picked up. She told whoever it was that she was texting them a list and she needed everything on it dropped off at the hospital.

The conversation was over quickly, and had an emotional undercurrent that he couldn’t parse.

Then, she called someone else. It only took two tries for whoever that was to pick up. Grace was less demanding during that call, but the entire thing made no sense and he couldn’t focus enough to figure out the end goal.

There was a third phone call, answered right away, and that had the air of a business deal being struck.

He should’ve at least been able to listen. He wasn’t a lawyer, but he wasn’t an idiot. He just kept blinking and finding that time had passed and the conversation Grace was having had moved on past whatever the last piece he understood was. He lost the context he needed, and then his focus broke again and her phone was on the table, silent.

It hadn’t been that long. Surgeries could take hours and hours, he knew that, but there was ice in his veins anyway. He was back in a place he didn’t want to be. His brother, off where he couldn’t help, maybe dying. The last picture Jack had of him, open on a surgical table. The last picture Grace had of him, covered in blood.

“Sorry,” Jack choked. It was like the last one, a complete surprise, but with the added feeling of shredding his throat on its way out of his mouth.

Grace looked up at him. Her expression was softer than it had been most of the evening, “For what?”

He shook his head, “You shouldn’t have seen him like that,” Jack shouldn’t have either. Or Collins. Or Whitaker. Or fucking anybody else. But especially not Grace who loved him and would remember that last image forever.

Grace met his eyes, hers stormy and grey and sad. After a long minute she looked down at the table and said, “When DJ died, he and my mom had just been here.”

Jack didn’t really want to hear about the people that she loved who died too early. His heart ached, cut-up and frostbitten.

“We spent half the day playing Mario Kart. Must’ve watched four episodes of Gilmore Girls too,” She huffed, a wry grin tugging at the corner of her mouth, “I hate that show, but DJ made it fun. We got Chinese food for lunch, and these really jenky fortunes came out of our cookies. Some bullshit about my health and positive attitude.”

For a second she seemed to get caught in the memory, and Jack was caught in it too. He knew the next part. The part with the car wreck that killed her brother and her mom. Almost killed her, a week later.

”It was a really good day. The best last day I could’ve asked for.” They were sitting, not-quite side-by-side at the table and when she looked at him again her eyes were watery, “When they crashed, Mom died right away, but DJ didn’t. He made it into an ambulance. And they took him to East Med.” East Med which was across town. Which Grace wouldn’t have made it to even if she hadn’t been admitted at the time, “I would give fucking anything,” she said quietly, “To have gotten thirty more seconds with him. Even after our perfect day. Even if it was awful.”

Grace reached out and took his hand firmly where it had been resting on the table. She twined her fingers with his, and sniffed.

There was ice around his heart. A block of it where the things that hurt the most were frozen, refracted a million times by sharp crystals. The whole thing, with a crack only he could hear, split in two.

3:13

Emery stepped back into the Pitt and could feel the attention on her like a spotlight, hot and itchy.

“Well?” Ellis shoved up to stand straight where she’d been bent over the charge desk. She looked ragged.

There were rules about delivering news. Family first. But she could see at a glance at least four day-shift people, still loitering around pretending to work, and Evans who didn’t work there at all anymore. She chewed on her cheek, and made a decision, “He’s alive.” The collective sigh of relief was enormous, like all at once the whole department relaxed, “Where’s Abbot and the girlfriend?”

”Lounge,” Evans answered, folded fully over the desk with her forehead on her hands. Collins reached to rub a hand over her shoulders.

Emery went to the lounge. The second she was through the door, she could feel Abbot’s eyes on her like a physical weight, his expression hard and sharp, his entire body coiled like he was about to get in a fight. The woman, Robby’s girlfriend, had her head pillowed on her arms. For a second Emery thought she was asleep, but then she turned a little to look at Abbot, and sat up to twist and look at Emery.

”He’s okay,” She said, positive that if she didn’t get it out fast, Abbot would start yelling, “In recovery on eight.”

If either of them were interested in the details, they didn’t stick around to hear them. The woman almost tripped over her chair she jumped out of it so quickly. Abbot caught her with a hand on her arm, then shoved her toward the door and they were both off running to the elevator at the end of the department. Emery opened her mouth, and let it fall shut.

She went back to the charge station. Maybe someone else would be interested in hearing about the almost surgically precise slice in Robby’s diaphragm that she had stitched up with definitely surgical precision. He wasn’t going to be running any marathons anytime soon, but it would heal, and the likely outcome was that he’d be good as new.

Provided they could keep all other unsanctioned blades out of the fucking Pitt.

3:22

Grace made it two steps into room 846, saw Robby, pale and still unconscious but more or less okay with an IV and nasal oxygen, and crumpled.

Jack had been impressed all night with her ability to keep it together, but one second she was on his heels and the next she was folded over her knees with her palms pressed to her eyes, bawling.

“Shit, Grace,” Jack had been going for Robby’s chart but he figured his friend would prefer he pick Grace up off the floor. He backtracked to crouch in front of her and touched her shoulder gently, “It’s okay, he’s alright.”

Grace sobbed harder.

“Okay, okay,” He didn’t really remember the last time he’d tried to comfort someone with a hug but he figured he should give it a try. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. Grace didn’t seem to mind that his shirt was still caked in dry blood, she pressed her face to his shoulder. He ran one hand over her spine slowly, for what felt like forever, until her sobs turned into hitching breaths, “C’mon, why don’t we get you off the floor and you can cry on Mike instead, he won’t mind.”

Grace made a terrible noise that he realized was halfway a laugh. Slowly she pulled away and wiped her hands across her cheeks.

Jack tried to stand, and found he was stuck, his leg horribly cramped, “Fucker-“ He dropped his knee to the floor and Grace seemed to get his issue. She stood and held out her hands to help haul him up. Her tears had stopped, but the second she looked past him at Robby, they started right back up again, pouring down her cheeks, “Okay, yeah, come on,” He took her arm and steered her around the bed to Robby’s left side, which hadn’t been the recent home to a knife.

Grace dug her heels into the floor but Jack pressed her forward with one hand on her back and the other on her forearm, “You sit right here,” he manhandled her a little onto the edge of the bed at Robby’s hip, “You can touch him, just watch the right.” Grace didn’t reach and Jack was positive she was afraid to break him so he took her hand and pressed it to his friend’s collarbone, “There, see? Just fine.”

And she might’ve agreed, or not, but either way she started to sob again. She wasn’t afraid to touch him anymore, at least, she folded over to press her face to Robby’s arm and leaked a waterfall of tears onto his skin.

“Shit,” Jack muttered. He wasn’t very comforting, apparently, “What did I tell you? Doesn’t mind at all,” He rubbed her back and felt more than heard her snort a laugh. Then he went to read Robby’s chart.

Seeing his friend had the opposite effect on Jack than it had on Grace. He felt soothed, the fear and anxiety of the evening falling away through his feet. Reading the chart solidified the calm in his chest. Robby would be sedated a while longer, but they’d found the damage and stitched it up. He’d wake up hurting, but he’d heal. A few days in the hospital, a few weeks at home on painkillers and antibiotics, and then everything would be back to normal.

Physically normal.

Someone had almost killed him in the middle of the Pitt. Jack wasn’t sure what it would be like when he tried to go back to work, but that was a problem for a different day. And if Robby couldn’t do it and took an early retirement, Jack was positive Grace wouldn’t mind.

6:14

Someone’s phone was ringing.

Not his, nobody called him.

The noise kept going. Jack huffed and opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized he was asleep until he was awake, squinting into the dim light of the room. It took him a second to remember where he was and what had happened.

He had read Robby’s chart, and then picked one of the uncomfortable armchairs to sit in. He watched Grace cry for a little while, then rearrange herself so she could stretch against Robby’s side and cry that way for a while longer. Then apparently they both fell asleep, because she was shoving up to sit on the edge of the bed, fumbling for the phone in her pocket.

”Fuck,” she swiped to answer the call, “Hi. No I’m- yeah. Okay, meet me in the lobby. Five minutes? Yeah. Bye.” She replaced her phone and rubbed her face. She looked awful, all the careful makeup of the day before smudged under her eyes, her face pale. When she spoke her voice was rough, “Jack?”

He grunted his reply.

”Is he going to be awake soon?”

Jack did some slow mental math, “No. Few more hours, probably. Late morning.”

”Okay,” The word was more a sigh than anything. Slowly she slid off the edge of the bed, then turned to pet a hand over Robby’s beard, “I have to run an errand.”

”Errand?” Jack grunted. He glanced at the clock. She wanted to get groceries at six in the morning?

”Yes. I’m not leaving the building. You’ll stay right?” She looked at him, “You’ll call me if anything changes?”

Jack patted his pockets briefly and found his phone, right where it had been before he gave it to Whitaker hours ago. He dug it out and held it up, “Yeah.”

”Okay,” Grace said again, then, “Okay. Okay, okay.” She bent and pressed a kiss to Robby’s cheek, then backed up. She patted his thigh, then his knee, then held his ankle for a second. It really didn’t seem like she wanted to go do her errand, but she let go after a long minute and fled from the room on quick strides.

“Christ, brother,” Jack muttered. He pushed out of his chair in the corner and moved to sink into the one at the side of the bed. His leg was killing him, so he bent to take it off, “She sure loves you. Never seen tears like that,” he set his prosthetic aside and leant forward to grip Robby’s arm, “Better not pull something like this again.”

There was no reply, just the slow sound of his breathing. It was agreement enough for Jack. He leant back in his chair and shut his eyes.

10:01

Robby blinked awake and felt like he’d been-

Stabbed. Right. He’d been stabbed. There was a rattling pain in his right side, tight and awful. He sucked in a breath and that twinged and hurt too. Neither thing hurt nearly as badly as the chest tube Jack had shoved into him, so he thought he might be doing better. He didn’t think he was dying anyway. He could hear the beep of a monitor over his shoulder and it sounded pretty even.

He lifted his head a little to glance around the room, and regretted it when it sent an ache down his entire side, but he got what he wanted from the effort, so he considered it a success.

Jack was in a chair on his left, his arms crossed and his head tilted over the backrest. There was blood visible on his shirt. Robby’s blood, probably. His eyes were closed and he was asleep.

Gracie was on the edge of a chair on his right. She had it pulled almost right up against the bed, and was folded over his legs. She had her head turned away from him, but the shape of her was unmistakable. Now that he’d seen her there, he could feel the weight across his shins, warm and comforting. She was also asleep.

It seemed a little unfair that he was the only person awake after he‘d gotten stabbed.

He didn’t really want to wake Gracie up. She had probably been upset about their plans and he figured he could start making it up to her by letting her sleep. He didn’t mind the idea of waking Jack up after the chest tube thing.

He opened his mouth to say something and found it fucking dry. Like he’d eaten a handful of cotton pads. He couldn’t remember if that was a side effect of the anaesthetic or of getting stabbed and bleeding half to death. He went for plan ‘B’, and tried to lift his hand. It was receptive. The left one, anyway. He reached out, had to stretch a little which hurt, and flicked Jack’s knee.

Jack jerked upright, and fixed his eyes immediately on Robby’s face. For a second they just looked at each other, Jack’s trademark intensity plain on his face, then he let out a huge sigh of relief, “Shit, Mike.”

Robby shushed him. Or tried to. It came out harsh and choked.

Jack raised his eyebrows, then glanced over at Grace and winced, “Sorry,” he whispered, “How d’you feel?”

”Like shit,” Robby managed to grumble.

Jack huffed, “Yeah, that’s about right.” He reached out and gripped Robby’s forearm, “Scared me, brother.” He jerked his head toward Grace, “Her too.”

Robby sat with that a second. He hadn’t been scared. Not right away, because he’d been in shock. Too stunned to feel the knife, or be afraid for himself. Then Jack was there and he wasn’t afraid because he knew that Jack wasn’t going to let him die. He was afraid, suddenly and terribly, when Jack suggested knocking him out. Because he trusted Jack but he didn’t really trust the surgeons, and he didn’t want to go off and die without seeing Gracie again.

But then she was there and she was stunning and holding his hand and he felt okay again.

“Gracie,” It was out, sandpaper rough, almost without him meaning to say it. He wanted to let her sleep but he wanted her to hold his hand more, and he’d been stabbed, so maybe he could be a little selfish.

She didn’t snap awake like Jack had, she stirred slowly.

“Careful,” Jack muttered, “She’s gonna cry again.”

Cry? He didn't want her to cry. Why the hell had she been crying?

Gracie shifted, turned, and looked at him. She blinked in surprise, then sat up, “Michael!”

He got his wish. Immediately she reached for his hand and squeezed it. She looked beautiful. It took him a second to realize she was wearing different clothes than she had been. Some kind of suit he’d never seen before that looked disgustingly expensive, “Where’s your dress?”

“The trash,” she answered. Her eyes roved over his face, then down his chest, “Are you okay?”

He wasn’t really, but he wasn’t dying either and her expression was pinched in concern so he said, “Yeah,” then, “Why’d you throw it out?” He’d wanted a chance to see her in it properly.

Gracie opened her mouth to answer, then snapped it shut. There was half a beat of quiet before tears welled up in her eyes and streaked down her face.

“Now you’ve done it,” Jack chided mildly, “Left side Grace, come on.”

Gracie let go of his hand and stood at Jack’s prompting to round the foot of the bed. It might’ve been disappointing to lose her hand in his but she hitched her knee up by his hip and stretched to lie against his side in the narrow space at the edge of the bed. She tucked her face against his shoulder and he could feel her tears drip steadily onto his skin.

“Okay,” Jack patted her arm once, then bent to attach his leg, “I’m gonna find some water before you both dehydrate to death.”

Robby shifted to bury his fingers in Gracie’s hair. He watched Jack tug his pant leg over his prosthetic and stand with a wince. He gripped Robby’s ankle briefly on his way past and was gone.

“Hey,” Robby muttered, “I’m okay, please don’t cry,” she didn’t seem inclined to stop, just pressed her hand against his jaw and ran her thumb over his cheekbone, “Sorry about milkshakes.”

Gracie snorted a laugh. She sniffled, “Sorry. I don’t know how to stop. I don’t like being on this side of the visitor badge.”

He could remember when their places were switched. Her in a bed, hurting every time she breathed, and him sitting beside her trying to come up with a way to make it hurt less. He thought Gracie might have an edge on him in that respect. He felt better with her wrapped around him.

He pressed his cheek to her hair, “I love you.”

She gave a soft, watery hum, “No more getting hurt.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

Chapter Text

Robby spent four days in the hospital, and they were all weird.

One

Robby could recall, vividly, all of the occasions where he had witnessed Gracie cry. Even with the morphine drip attached to his IV and making him fuzzy, he could catalogue them in his brain.

Most were pain-tears. They had been awful and left him feeling sick and useless, but at the same time they were emotionless and involuntary. Gracie had cried a little at the broken rib that brought her into the ER the first time they’d met. She cried when her lung collapsed. And when she had the surgery that took out a handful of organs and even more cancer. She cried when she had her broken arm set.

The other times, when it hadn’t been her body making tears spring to her eyes, were worse. She’d cried at the news about her mom and brother. And she cried when she slit her wrist open in the ED bathroom.

That was it. He’d known her at what must have been the most difficult period of her life. When for a while, chances were high it would be the end of it. If it upset her to know, and it must have, she didn’t show it with tears.

Suddenly, she really couldn’t stop crying. She spent close to an hour stroking her hand through his hair and leaking tears onto his shoulder. Enough that when her tears finally slowed, there was an uncomfortable wet patch on his shitty hospital gown.

Jack came back with the water he’d promised and Grace got up, which was a tragedy, so they could raise the bed into more of a seated position. Robby sucked back half the cup with Gracie in the chair that had been Jack’s at his left. She frowned, sipped her own water, and kept a hand on his ribs the whole time.

Then, at Robby’s request, Jack read the exact specifications of his injury from the surgical report.

It was like turning on a faucet. Tears sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

Jack winced, “This is a good report, Grace. Really good.”

“I know!” She slapped both hands over her eyes, “I can’t stop!” Her voice hitched up an octave, “Do they make drugs for this?”

“Gracie,” Robby reached for her forearm and tugged her hand from her face, “I’m okay,” he was at once, horrified to be the cause of her tears, and overwhelmed by the love on display for him.

She wiped ineffectively at her face, “I’m just so relieved!” The tears kept going, “What the fuck was I supposed to do if I lost you?”

“Find someone younger,” His throat was still a little raw from being under and the joke came out gravelly. Jack snorted.

“That’s not funny,” Grace snapped, like she hadn’t once been the queen of ‘at my funeral’ jokes, “Who’d take care of me and Jack? You know neither of us is allowed in the medication safe! We’d just rattle around the house until we died of sleep deprivation or malnutrition!”

“I can cook you know,” Jack offered.

“Not on no sleep you can’t!” She waved her free hand wildly, “And I’d spend my entire fortune getting scammed by phone psychics, we’d probably end up homeless first- oh my God and the car-“

“When did I move in?” Jack asked, frowning.

“When I died,” Robby answered, real concern blooming in his chest.

Jack nodded, “Right. Because of the guilt.”

“Uh-huh,” Grace nodded. She fixed Robby with tear-filled eyes, “We really need you to not die. Preferably ever.”

He squeezed her hand, “I don’t think medicine’s come that far.“

Grace nodded slowly. She blinked away the last of her tears, the streaks where they had run clear on her cheeks, “Well. I guess I’ll have to handle things then.”

“You gonna fund research into cyborg bodies?” Jack asked. He pointed a finger at her, “I want one.”

Gracie pointed back at him, “You got it. I need to make a call.” She squeezed Robby’s hand, then stood, “At what point will you be allowed to drink a milkshake?”

“Didn’t get stabbed in the stomach,” Jack answered for him.

“Oh my God,” Fresh tears jumped to her eyes. She yanked a handful of tissues from the side table and wiped at them as she rounded the bed, “It’s so not funny,” then she was out the door into the hallway.

Robby watched her through the half-open blinds as she took up a spot leaning against the opposite wall of the hallway. She pressed the tissues to her eyes and lifted her phone to her ear, “Did she cry all night?” His heart twisted with the complicated blend of emotions living in it.

“No,” Jack stretched his leg out in front of him with a wince, “Not one tear until she saw you in that bed. Yelled at Gloria though.”

His mouth dropped open in surprise, “She what?”

”Yelled at Gloria,” Jack repeated. He scratched at his jaw, “Threatened to rip the whole hospital to the studs.”

Robby stared. He’d never heard Gracie yell before. He’d heard her angry once or twice, but only at her father and only for as long as it took the man to evacuate whatever room she was in, “Are you serious?”

”Oh yeah,” Jack glanced toward the window, “She was kind of scary.”

“Gracie?”

”Yeah. Don’t piss her off.”

Robby hadn’t, he didn’t think. He couldn’t recall a time that Gracie had even been seriously annoyed at him. He watched her tilt her head and speak to the ceiling. He really couldn’t imagine her yelling at anyone, much less making threats. Why would she have done it to Gloria?

Two

Robby spent about half his time dozing. His side hurt despite the medication, but it made him extremely sleepy so he could nod off and not have to deal with it for a few hours at a time.

The time he spent awake wasn’t necessarily during daylight hours, but Gracie was still there and mostly awake when he was. She curled up in the chair by his bed and would hold his hand or stoke her hand over his jaw or grip his thigh. She had stopped crying, and would chatter at him in a whisper instead, low enough that he could fall asleep again.

Jack went home and came back a couple times, but that Robby could tell, Gracie never did. There was a backpack he didn’t recognize in the corner of the room, and a garment bag hung on the closet door. None of it was his stuff, which Jack brought in a backpack he did recognize, so that he wouldn’t have to continue wearing a hospital gown. He had to assume someone had dropped off clothes for Gracie, but the choices were so weird he couldn’t figure out the reasoning behind them.

“Why are you wearing that?”

Gracie raised her eyebrows. She didn’t look up from her phone, just kept tapping out the text she was sending. She’d been texting off and on the entire day. With Max, probably, though Robby didn’t ask, “Wearing what?”

He didn’t think the question needed clarifying but he didn’t have one hundred percent of her attention, “That outfit.”

She sent her text and dropped her phone to the side table. She gave him an exaggerated pout, “What? Don’t you like it?”

He did like it. But he was pretty sure she was deflecting, “It doesn’t look very comfortable.”

The outfit was a suit. A different one than he’d woken up to her wearing, but just as expensive looking. Her pants were wide-legged and black, her shirt silky and charcoal grey. She didn’t have a jacket over it, or shoes on, but it still seemed like the sort of thing one might wear to a business meeting, not to lounge in an uncomfortable hospital room chair. She had makeup on too, sharp winged liner that turned the colour of her eyes to steel-grey. She looked gorgeous. It was just so fucking strange. She spent all her time at home dressed for comfort, and only wore makeup when she was going out.

Gracie leant forward to purr at him, “Are you saying you’d like to see me in something more comfortable?”

Fuck yes he did, except- “I think I’m gonna be laid up for a little while Gracie.”

Her eyes roved over him. She grinned, “That’s okay. We’ll get you home to bed and then I can play nurse. I’ll be gentle, I swear.”

Fucking hell, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. He was positive he’d stop feeling the ache in his side with her lips on him, “Gracie,” He growled.

Her smile stretched into the one she only used when she knew she was driving him crazy, ”What?”

They couldn’t fuck in a hospital room was what, and she knew it, “Quit.”

She clicked her tongue, “Fine.”

He watched her lean back in her chair, cross her legs, and pick up her phone again. He scowled and pretended not to notice her eyes on him when he adjusted himself.

Three

“I want to go home.”

Neither Jack, nor Gracie looked at him. They were too busy staring at each other, Jack with his trademark intensity, and Gracie with a pleased little smile.

”All in,” Jack said. He shoved the handful of mini eggs he’d been betting with into the middle of the table.

”Are you sure?” Gracie asked, stretching out the last word. Her smile grew.

”Yeah, you’re bluffing.”

“Am I talking to myself?” Robby wondered.

Gracie shrugged, “Maybe.”

Jack leveled a finger at her, “You are. Call or fold.”

”Fine,” Gracie said in reply to Jack, “Call.” She shoved her own handful of chocolate forward.

The two of them were sitting on opposite sides of Robby’s bed. They’d been playing poker for the better part of an hour, and not invited him to participate despite the rolling table stretching across his legs. That was fine. He didn’t really care for poker even when he wasn’t in a piss-poor mood.

Jack flipped his cards to reveal a low straight. He didn’t look at the cards, just stared at Gracie. She didn’t look at his cards and flipped her own a second later.

”What the fuck?” Jack slapped his palm on the edge of the table which swung in reply, sending chocolate rolling off its edge onto Robby’s legs.

”If I ever need a quick buck, catch me at the high-roller’s table in Vegas,” Gracie scooped the multi-coloured candies off the blanket and shoved them into her mouth.

”Gracie,” Robby said.

Jack scowled, “You were bluffing!”

”Clearly not,” Gracie picked up one of her nines, of which there were four, and flicked it. It arced through the air and bounced off Jack’s chest, “You know it’s like, half my job to lie, right?”

Jack scowled harder, “You don’t have a job.”

“Gracie!” Robby grabbed her wrist where she was plucking candy off his bed, “I want to go home.”

Gracie looked up at him and squinted. She was again, and for no reason he could discern, absolutely stunning. Her makeup was artfully done, her hair in careful waves that framed her face. Her suit was a deep slate colour, “I heard you, I thought we were all just saying facts.”

Jack’s eyebrows scrunched together, “Have you actually gambled with Vegas high-rollers?”

”Literally dozens of times,” Gracie answered. She twisted her hand to catch Robby’s in return and stroked her thumb over his skin.

”Is that a lie?”

Gracie shrugged.

Robby lost his remaining patience, “Fuck’s sake, please, can you get me the hell out of here?” He hated being in a hospital bed. He hated feeling useless. He hated that Gracie couldn’t lie with him. He wanted to go home and lie in their bed, together, and not have to think about the job he was supposed to be doing seven floors below. Every time someone visited, which happened at both ends of the Pitt’s shift change, and sometime in the middle, he felt a little worse.

”No,” Jack answered for her. He dragged Gracie’s cards toward himself and added them to the deck, “You need to be supervised by a physician until Wallace clears you.”

”I am a physician,” Robby snarled.

”You can’t supervise yourself. You’re not that good,” Jack replied. He wasn’t bothered by Robby’s shit mood, or his snarling.

”You do it then,” Robby snapped, “You’re not working anyway.” Jack had decided to use his sick days, apparently, to hang out and play poker, despite the likelihood that the entire ED crumble without either of them present.

”Oooh,” Gracie grinned, “You wanna be our private doctor, Jack?” She snatched one of the cards back and picked up the pen she’d used to fill a book of sudokus the day before, “Look, we can negotiate a contract. I’ll write a number on this card, and you look at it and then tell me to double it,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

”Sure, let’s see the offer.”

Robby scowled. They were both making fun of him. He watched Gracie scribble on the card and then, with an extremely serious expression, slide it across the table toward Jack. Jack, with equal seriousness, took the card under his hand and tipped it carefully, just enough to see the number.

He choked, “Jesus Christ!”

Gracie gave a little ‘tsk’ sound, “Your poker face is awful. You’re never gonna get a salary bump like that.”

Jack waved the card, “Is this a real number?”

”Pretty sure I only used Arabic numerals, so yes,” Gracie raised her eyebrows.

”How fucking rich are you?” Jack burst, clearly appalled at whatever he was looking at.

Robby had been there. He let himself sink back against the pillows and loosed a long, slow breath. He was pretty sure neither of them was going to co-sign early discharge papers.

”So fucking rich,” Gracie answered, “Oh, speaking of money, I keep meaning to ask.” That was never a good start, “Do you think Dennis would prefer a DoorDash gift card, or a weekend stay at the Dumont?”

The Dumont was an extremely nice hotel in town but, “Who the fuck is Dennis?”

Gracie raised her eyebrows at him, “Whitaker? The med student? I owe him an apology and it’s the kind that needs to be accompanied by a gift.”

”Why do you need to apologize to Whitaker?” Robby asked, dumbstruck.

Gracie waved her hand, “I threatened to tank his shot at a medical license.”

”What?” Robby asked, at the same time Jack said, “Dumont. Kid looks like he’s never slept a full night.”

Gracie hummed, “Strong logic, but for a hundred bucks that DoorDash guy of yours will deliver literally anything.”

”What the hell did you have him deliver?” Jack squinted at her.

”Plausible deniability,” Gracie returned. From her pocket, her phone started to ring. She fished it out to glance at the caller, clicked her tongue, and stood to go answer it, “I would literally love nothing more than to take you home Michael, but can you please be patient? For me? Just for a couple more days?”

Robby was royally confused. He wanted to know what happened with Whitaker, and the DoorDash guy, and he really fucking wanted to go home. He just couldn’t tell Gracie no, “Fine.”

”Thank you. I love you,” She bent to kiss him, then straightened and swiped to answer her phone as she crossed the room, “Summers. Mister Giles, of course, thank you for getting back to me so quickly-“ The door creaked open, and then swung shut behind her.

”The fuck happened with Whitaker?” Robby asked.

Jack shrugged. He squinted at Robby, “How rich is she exactly?”

Robby shrugged back, “I have no idea.”

Four

Robby was still pretty bitter about being in a hospital room, but it was easier to manage with a milkshake.

Gracie had, in a blatant show of disregard for hospital policy, ordered them directly to his room. Apparently everyone who thought to stop the DoorDash guy along the way liked Robby enough that they let him go again upon hearing his name.

To his knowledge, Gracie had yet to leave the hospital. She disappeared for thirty or forty minutes at a time, which wasn’t long enough to make it even to his place and back, but returned with different clothes or food or at one time, a mysterious briefcase.

He’d asked what was in it and she had said dramatically, “My life’s work,” and then launched into a series of questions about his ability to care for plants. She wanted some, apparently, and insisted she couldn’t be relied on to keep even a cactus alive.

Robby had owned plants before. He could keep them alive, he just hadn’t been interested in purchasing any in recent years. That seemed to be the part Gracie was most excited about. She pulled up a Pinterest board of indoor plants and wedged herself into the space at his hip to show him.

By the time he realized she’d never really answered him it was a few hours later. Gracie was gone, and so was the briefcase. When she came back, she was empty handed.

It was so odd. She wasn’t in the habit of avoiding his questions, at least not since they’d started dating, but she was definitely acting strange and refused to provide him with any reasons why.

He knew, because he saw it, that people reacted to the stress of sick or injured loved ones in a million different ways. Gracie had cried a river. But then she’d put on a suit and maybe paid a DoorDash worker a hundred bucks to deliver a briefcase somewhere. He didn’t see the connection between his injury and her behaviour, and she wasn’t telling him.

He studied her over his cup. Her suit was a deep shade of green. She had her hair pulled halfway back and red lipstick that made him want to kiss her. She had the straw in her milkshake halfway to her mouth and was studying the screen of her phone intently.

”What are you looking at?” It was like dipping his fingers into a bath to test the water. He was almost nervous to hear her answer. He was mostly fine, and she seemed okay, but all her question dodging was starting to make him think that things between them might not be.

“Financial statements,” she answered absently. She scrolled slowly with her thumb.

”Yours?” He asked. He tried not to ask about her money. He didn’t want her to think he was interested in it, for one thing. For another, he really wasn’t.

“No,” she kept scrolling. Under her breath she muttered, “That is so strange.”

”What’s strange?”

Gracie didn’t look at him. She also didn’t answer. Her eyebrows furrowed together and she frowned at her phone as she scrolled a little further.

”Gracie.”

She did look then. Her phone fell to rest on her knee where he could sort of see the screen, but didn’t have a hope in hell of reading it. Her expression smoothed, “What?”

He pointed to her phone with a finger, “What’s strange? Whose financial records are you looking at?”

She clicked her tongue, “I’m not allowed to say. Attorney client privilege.”

Robby stared. He’d heard of attorney confidentiality rules. They were a lot like the rules he followed every single day with patients. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was- “You’re working?”

Gracie made a face and hummed, “Sort of. Not really. It’s complicated.”

”Complicated how?” He had never known her to work with a client that wasn’t her mother’s charity and even that was more of a sporadic, pop-in and help situation than an actual job.

”It’s sort of a quid-pro-quo kind of deal? But I was paid a retainer so that nobody could ask any questions and unfortunately that includes you,” she lifted her milkshake properly to have a drink, “If you really want to hear about financial records I could bore you with mine? You wanna read my statements?”

It was another deflection. Something in his stomach twisted, “No, Gracie, I want to know what’s going on with you.”

She frowned, “What do you- Oh motherfuck.” The last, he was sure, wasn’t for him. Her eyes were fixed on the little window in the door to his room, “Here we go.”

Robby looked at the door, irritated at whoever it was for interrupting them, and doubly so for irritating Gracie. It swung open, and a man stepped through.

Robby was one hundred percent positive that he had never seen the man before. He was short and narrow, probably a handful of years older than Robby and entirely bald. He had a tan like he’d recently been somewhere tropical, and was wearing a suit that looked almost as expensive as Gracie’s.

”Mister Turner,” Gracie greeted, “How nice of you to drop by.”

Robby glanced at her. He’d never heard her mention a Turner, and was confused why a man he’d never even heard of would be coming to visit him. The confusion gave way to something else at the look on her face.

Gracie’s tone was polite enough, and she was smiling, but her expression was all wrong. There was none of the usual warmth in her, replaced by something cold and hard, ice and steel together. The line of her body, relaxed as it had been sixty seconds before, was straight and still. She looked like a shark, all sharp teeth and slow, easy movements, ready to take a bite out of anything that got too close.

“Miss Summers,” The man replied. He seemed to size up Gracie for a minute, then turned his attention to Robby, “Doctor Robinovitch. I’ve come to offer my sincerest apologies on behalf of the PTMC board of directors for the incident that occured on Saturday evening.”

Robby blinked at him. It was no wonder he didn’t recognize the man. The only member of the board he’d ever seen was Declan Summers, and only because he turned up when Gracie was sick to yell at everyone about it. That was assuming the man even was a member of the board, and not a lawyer or assistant of some kind. He glanced at Gracie, who hadn’t moved.

Turner continued, “It may comfort you to know that a proposal has been made regarding more intensive security measures for the emergency department.” He wasn’t looking at Robby anymore, he was looking at Gracie, “It would include additional security staffing and metal detectors. I’m sure you would agree that would be a large step toward ensuring the future safety of our staff.”

Robby’s mouth fell open. He’d been barking up that tree for years and getting told to fuck off every time. He’d lost count of how many different ways Gloria could tell him that the budget would never support it. Apparently all it took was getting stabbed? “That sounds-“

Gracie cut him off, “Have you ever been on high dose morphine, Mister Turner?” Turner and Robby both turned to blink at her. She smiled the same sharp smile, “Right. Never been stabbed, I suppose.” Turner flinched. Robby stared. She sure as fuck wasn’t making a joke. She couldn’t even approach the subject of his side without getting teary, “It just makes everything a little bit fuzzy. So, thank you for coming to share your proposal news,” Somehow, Robby thought, she made the words ‘proposal news’ sound a lot like ‘get fucked’, “Michael’s going to think about that for a few days, and I’ll let the board know if it makes him feel better about returning to work.” She stood up, unfolding from her chair with a gracefulness he’d never seen from her before, “Now, why don’t you let me walk you out so my partner can rest.”

Turner, Robby thought, looked extremely nervous. He didn’t say goodbye, just turned on his heels and walked back out the door into the hallway, Gracie stalking behind him in a pair of heels that snapped like gunshots on the linoleum. Robby could see through the window, Turner’s mouth moving like he was trying to explain something. Gracie watched him, her expression not dissimilar to the way a lion might look at a gazelle.

The door opened with a creak and Jack stepped through, shooting a glance over his shoulder as he did, eyebrows furrowed, “Who the fuck is that guy?”

”Turner,” Robby answered, “What’s he saying?” He tried to read the man’s lips but he’d never been very good at it.

”Something about the budget,” Jack rounded the bed to sink into the chair Gracie had left, “He work for the hospital?”

”The board, I think,” Robby answered. Turner stopped talking. It must’ve been Gracie’s turn, but she had turned her back to the window and he didn’t have a hope in hell of knowing what was being said.

”Oh,” Jack picked up Gracie’s milkshake cup from the table, glanced at the translucent top, and took a drink, “He’s fucked.”

Turner was beginning to sweat. Literally and visibly, “Fucked how?”

“Well, nobody’s seen Gloria since Saturday night.” Jack shook the cup in his hand. He considered Gracie through the window, “Do you think she has hitman money?”

“Gracie didn’t have Gloria murdered,” he snapped. Although, he was getting the sense that Gracie did in fact have the required wealth to have someone disappeared.

“No,” Jack agreed, “You’re right. Might’ve had her fired though.”

Robby scoffed, “Why would she do that?”

Jack fixed him with a look like he was an idiot, “Think she’s made it pretty clear who she blames for you getting stabbed.”

Robby frowned. Not to him she hadn’t.

The door swung open and Gracie stepped back into the room. She looked beautiful and not at all like she’d just made a grown man flee in fear, “Um, excuse you, that’s my shake.”

“Finders keepers,” Jack replied.

Gracie clicked her tongue, “Alright. I’ll remember that the next time you leave your leg in the middle of my living room.”

“Our living room,” he had another drink of the shake in his hand.

“Did you get Gloria fired?” Robby asked.

Gracie snorted, “Why would I waste my time getting Gloria fired?” She kicked off her shoes and walked much more quietly to flop across the available chair on his right.

He got the sense that she was positive she could have if she’d wanted to. He remembered her offhand comment about tanking Whitaker’s license and wondered what else she thought she could do. He opened his mouth to ask what she had been busy doing, but Jack cut him off.

”Quicker just to have her whacked.”

”Okay 1940’s gangster,” Gracie grinned, “We say ‘dealt with’ in this century.”

”And did you have Gloria ‘dealt with’?” He set the takeout cup on the table in front of him.

Gracie leant forward and snatched it up, “Plausible deniability, Jack,” she took a long sip.

Robby was beginning to seriously regret pushing the two of them together.

Five

For the first time in their relationship, sitting in his Jeep in the parking lot, Robby and Grace had an honest-to-God argument.

Gracie hated driving, that was a well-known fact. It wasn’t that she couldn’t, it was more like she was nervous about it following her family’s accident. Robby knew she didn’t like it, so usually he drove when they went somewhere together.

It wasn’t a great sign when she insisted on driving, but he was still on a pretty high dose of painkillers so he couldn’t argue the point. He hadn’t been able to convince her to let him carry anything either. Not that there was a lot left, most of Gracie’s things had disappeared from his hospital room that morning under semi-suspicious circumstances.

So, Gracie carried his backpack and kept a hand around his arm the entire way to the exit. Then she ran off to pull the Jeep around while he was distracted talking to Matteo, and he didn’t know where the fuck she’d gone to follow her. When she pulled up a minute later he pulled the door open before she had the chance to get out and do it for him.

She fidgeted while he yanked at his seatbelt and clicked it into place, thankful that the chest strap was on the correct side to not rub at the bandage covering his stitches, “Alright, take me home,” he tipped his head back and shut his eyes.

He’d been itching to get home since almost the minute he’d woken up from surgery. He hated being hurt. He hated being taken care of by the people he usually worked with, and he hated being taken care of by people he didn’t know even more. He wanted to be home, in the million thread count sheets Gracie kept on her bed, letting her order a revolving door of takeout and make good on her promise to take care of him.

“Okay, ETA,” she glanced at the clock, “7:36.”

Robby glanced at the clock. It was 7:29, “Not my home,” he amended, “Your home,” he couldn’t wait until it was the same building, but he was fairly certain getting stabbed had put the brakes on moving anywhere.

Gracie frowned at him, “We’re not going to my place.”

”What?” He turned his head to look at her, “Why not?”

She raised her eyebrows, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

”No,” he asserted. She didn’t usually ask questions that way, which meant she was already annoyed, and he couldn’t see why, “I want to go to your place, why can’t we do that?”

”Michael,” Her tone was firm, “We are not going to my place.”

”Why?” The word snapped its way out of his mouth. It shouldn’t have, he was usually good at keeping calm and he wasn’t really annoyed with her, but irritation had sparked up in his chest anyway.

“Because!” Gracie snapped back, “What’s wrong with just going to your apartment?” She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of his building, “It’s right there!”

“Is this because you don’t want to drive?” He twisted a little further in his seat and felt the twinge in his diaphragm, “We can take a fucking Uber.”

“No!” She had one hand on the wheel and the other yanked at the sleeve at her wrist.

He recognized the gesture. Nervous. Upset. But he couldn’t seem to stop, “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t understand why you want to-“

“I don’t understand why you won’t answer a fucking question lately!” He slapped his palm onto the dashboard. The sound cracked through the small space, too loud. Gracie stared at his hand. Too late, he registered the tears in her eyes, “Fuck. Gracie, I’m sorry.” He scrubbed his palms over his face.

She sniffed. The tears didn’t fall, “Okay. Go ahead,” she said slowly, “Ask.”

He let his hands fall and looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. Upset, definitely, but with the same hard something behind her eyes. He was afraid to, suddenly. He let the words roll off his tongue anyway, “What have you been doing all week?“

Gracie fidgeted. It was a vague question, but she wasn’t being evasive anymore, “I have been making it clear to the hospital’s board that their security is insufficient, and that I’ll be taking matters into my own hands if they don’t correct it.”

Robby stared at her. He remembered what Jack had said the day before, “What does that mean?”

She winced, “It’s sort of complicated. Basically if they don’t convince me that you’ll be safe at work when you go back, I’ll be pulling the trigger on a massive legal suit which might sink the entire hospital and also bankrupt half the board.”

“Gracie,” he breathed. It was such an insane thing to hear he didn’t know how to put it in context. Surely she couldn’t actually shutter the hospital, it had to be an exaggeration. Except, she had very literally made a man sweat in the hall outside of his room, so clearly she had the power to do something.

“I just-“ She pressed both hands to her cheeks, then turned and reached to grip his thigh, “I’ve never been that scared in my life! I don’t know how to- I can’t just sit at home and worry when you go back! So I called in a few favours and I did a little bit of work- they’re going to fold, they’ve already committed to the security bit-“

“Holy shit,” He sat back in his seat.

“I know, I knew you wouldn’t like it! But this is my version of looking at your chart! I had to do something!”

His mouth was dry, “Turner said they’d do it,” he muttered, “The metal detectors. What are you still asking for?”

He glanced at Gracie and watched her lick her lip, “I did something- sketchy. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Grace!”

“I got access to the boards financials-“ she said in a rush, “I didn’t have the time to really dive in but somebody’s been skimming cash. Like, enough cash to hire some more nurses, I just have to figure out who’s doing it!”

He slapped his palms over his eyes, “Holy shit-“

“I just want to take care of you and this is the only way I know how!”

“What if it’s your dad?” Declan Summers might’ve hated Robby and been halfway to the devil himself, but he was still Gracie’s father.

She threw her hands up in frustration, “I don’t know! I’ll blackmail him into hiring more staff instead of turning him in.”

“Gracie, you can’t just blackmail people and threaten to shut down an entire hospital!”

“Why not?” At his outraged scoff she continued a little louder, “I’m serious! Tell me you wouldn’t go back in time and do whatever it took to keep Dana from getting hurt.”

He couldn’t. There were so many things about that day he wanted to change, and couldn’t do any of it. He missed Dana, every time he went to work, but he couldn’t fix what had happened, “We can’t go back,” he said softly.

“I know,” Gracie replied, her voice firm “But we can go forward. I can do this. Do you trust me?”

He did. He trusted that, outrageous as it seemed, she could do what she was promising. And she would, because she loved him and was afraid to lose him. He’d done the same thing once. Spent all his time doing his best to make sure that she would be okay, even when it meant crossing a line into ethically dubious territory. The kind of place he never would have set foot in for anyone else.

He took a huge deep breath that ached the whole way in, and let it whistle away, “Yes.” He twisted to look at her properly. She looked unhappy, a frown on her lips that he hated to see, “Why can’t we go to your house?”

Gracie gave a frustrated huff and shook her head, “Michael, my house has so many stairs, and you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

Oh. She was just worried. Left to his own devices he wouldn’t have put it past himself to get bored, or annoyed, and take to wandering around her house no matter how badly the stairs tugged at his stitches. But he wouldn’t be, “You take me to bed, I’ll stay there. I swear.”

Gracie’s lips twitched upward, “You’re gonna let me take care of you?”

“Promise,” he reached for her hand and she let him, twining her fingers with his and squeezing.

“Okay,” She smiled properly, “While we’re stuck in bed, we can pick furniture for the new place,” she tugged her hand free and put the car in gear, “How do you feel about leather couches?”

“Not great,” he admitted, “I thought we might be putting the brakes on the move.”

“Why?” Grace turned right out of the parking lot on the road that would lead them eventually to her townhouse, “You didn’t think we were going to move boxes ourselves did you? We’re hiring someone for that. And also to arrange our new furniture once we pick it.” She glanced at him, her expression almost nervous, “You still want to move, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” he should’ve known Gracie would never consent to carrying boxes when hiring movers was an option.

“Oh, good.” She relaxed back in her seat, “Cause I already bought the building.”

Chapter Text

Returning to the Pitt after several weeks spent on the extremely comfortable couch in Gracie’s condo was a little bit like jumping into the middle of a lake with both feet and hoping he remembered how to swim.

There was no time to ease into things, or let himself adjust. The second the two car crash victims were wheeled into the ED, it was do or die. He did.

He intubated the first patient when Mel couldn’t, and watched Collins catch an interior bleed on the second. He supervised two stemi’s. He watched two bones be set, and put a shoulder back in himself. He resuscitated one patient, a fifteen year old that had seized and then choked, and ended codes on two others that they couldn’t get back.

It wasn’t the worst day he’d ever had, or the best. In fact, it would have been completely forgettable if it weren’t for the panic attack he almost had at 12:34.

It was a nothing incident, really. A patient got up to head to the washroom, and took a header halfway there. They crashed into Donnie, who stumbled and crashed into Robby’s back. For a second, the confusion pitched him into the memory of the last scuffle that had taken place in the ED. The one he didn’t really recall the details of, besides the feeling of being knocked into. The panic was instant, and enormous.

And then it was gone, because he turned and saw the patient unconscious on the floor and that required his full attention.

The rest of the day was uneventful, if two overdoses, four burns, five broken bones, two-hundred-thirty-seven stitches, and a perforated bowel could be described as such.

Robby found when he made it to the parking lot, that he was glad to be back. He liked his job, as difficult as it tended to be. He was also fucking thrilled that his first day back was over. He was pretty sure that if he had to listen to one more person ask in the tentative way they all did, how he was holding up, he was going to lose it. He’d never been good at bearing the concern of the people around him. He didn’t want it. It chafed.

He hoped that by the time he made it in for his next shift in twelve hours, everyone would recognize that he was fine and quit asking.

It used to be that when Robby finished a shift, he’d go home to his apartment. But he’d mostly given up pretending that he wanted to spend any time there, and Gracie had suggested mildly the previous evening that she might get some packing done while he was at work, so he climbed into the Jeep and resigned himself to half an hour spent in intermittent traffic.

He set his elbow on the edge of the window and let his mind wander.

All of the weeks he had been home recovering, he had spent in Gracie’s condo, and mostly in her company. She showed him approximately forty-five different options for new living room furniture, and two for new dish sets. He insisted mildly that they didn’t need to buy new dishes when they each had a set, and Gracie had frowned, muttered something about liking his better, then closed both tabs and crawled into his lap.

He liked being home with her. They had watched two different comedy shows the whole way through, and each read half a dozen books. He watched Gracie cook for a few days, then took over himself as soon as he could stand for an hour without his side killing him. She wasn’t very good at it, and it didn’t take a lot of convincing for her to hand over the spatula.

She had apparently bought their new place while he was still in the hospital. He wasn’t sure where she’d found the time between sitting at his bedside and putting the fear of God into the PTMC board of directors, but she’d managed. She left the paperwork on the kitchen island one morning and told him he ought to look it over when he got a second, before disappearing upstairs to shower.

He did, and was glad she wasn’t in the room to watch his mild existential crisis.

According to the paperwork, Gracie had paid in cash, and put his name on the deed. It meant that legally, half the building was his, despite the money having all been hers. If they broke up, God forbid, and sold the place, he would be entitled to half a million dollars. Which meant either Gracie wasn’t seriously attached to the half a million dollars, or was very serious about their relationship.

He felt like he was learning both those lessons about her with increasing frequency.

By the time she emerged into the living room again, he was ready to pretend that the gesture wasn’t enormous. He let her show him fourteen different options for headboards before he managed to get a grip on her tablet and tossed it. Then he peeled off her bike shorts and thanked her for buying him a building with his mouth.

Thinking about how much time they’d spent that month without their clothes, he regretted having gone back to work. Gracie had taken her promise to take care of him very seriously. Thank fuck he had the heart of a younger man.

He parked like shit when he pulled into the driveway of the condo, intent on getting inside as quickly as possible and seeing if he could convince Gracie that she ought to be joining him for his post-work shower. He grabbed his pack, jogged across the pavement and up the steps, and pushed the front door open.

He stopped dead, “What the hell?”

The front entryway of the condo was a wide hall that had a staircase on the right, and led to an archway to the kitchen on the left. Beyond that was a bathroom, and a storage room that he never went in. When he’d left for work, there had been a big shelf next to the door, on which Gracie kept a bowl for keys and a handful of other clutter. There had been a dark rug on the floor, two paintings in the hall, and a mirror on the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

The entire space was empty.

”Gracie?” There was no answer. He frowned and flipped the lock on the door behind him before going to check the kitchen.

The kitchen, and beyond it the living room, were both similarly stripped. There were still three stools in front of the island, and the couch, but all the personal effects that had made the place feel like a home were absent. The bookshelves that had been home to several hundred novels were gone, along with their contents. The big circle shelf that hung on the wall over the fireplace was empty.

”Seriously, what the fuck?” He muttered. He yanked open the nearest cupboard, which had contained Tupperware that morning, and found it clean, “Gracie!” No answer again. He dropped his bag to the floor, and backtracked to jog up the stairs.

He ducked his head into the spare room, and the bathroom on his way past. Both were emptier than he’d left them that morning. His heart beat hard, “Grace!” He made it to the end of the hall and threw open the master bedroom door.

The room was almost the same, except it looked like everything in the closet had been tossed toward the center of the floor, a huge mess of very expensive fabrics that he couldn’t be bothered by because-

“Michael?” There was a thunk, then, “Shit- ow. Goddamn it-“

Robby rounded the pile to step through the closet door, “Gracie? What are you doing? What happened here?”

Gracie was sitting on the floor beside the safe, her legs stretched out in front of her, with one hand wrapped around the middle two fingers of the other. She was wearing yoga pants and a hoodie that was several sizes too big, because it was his. She gave him an extremely innocent smile he might have bought if she wasn’t surrounded by the rest of her wardrobe, “Me? Nothing. I missed you, how was work?”

He frowned, “Fine.” She hadn’t let go of her fingers so he stepped closer and knelt between her shins to catch her hand and drag it toward himself, “Where’s all your stuff?”

“What stuff? Ouch,” she winced as he inspected her fingertips, both red but otherwise okay.

“Everything from the first floor,” he clarified, “What’s this from?”

Gracie ignored the first question, “I pinched them in the stupid safe.”

“Gracie,” he gave her a stern look.

She ignored that too, “Am I gonna make it, Doctor?”

Robby huffed, “Dunno. We might need to amputate.”

“Oh goodness,” Gracie smiled at him, “Guess there’s no point in keeping the family rings then.”

He bent to kiss her fingertips, “You’re not answering my question.”

Gracie clicked her tongue, “I packed. I told you I was gonna.”

“Okay,” he was pretty certain her fingers were fine, but he wanted to get some ice on them anyway, “Where are the boxes?”

“The other place,” she reached to hook her other hand in the collar of his shirt, cool fingers sliding over his skin.

Robby raised his eyebrows, “Already?”

“Oh yeah,” her hand slid around to the back of his neck, “The day really got away from me.”

Gracie didn’t seem inclined to get up but he couldn’t keep kneeling on the floor. He tugged her leg up so that he could shuffle and sit beside her instead. It put the safe at his back which wasn’t comfortable, but was better than kneeling after twelve hours in the ED, “How’s that?”

She huffed, “Oh my God I woke up so early-“ Not that early. He’d left at quarter past six and she was still asleep. “But you were gone so I couldn’t go back to sleep-“ That was new. She didn’t need him in bed with her to sleep until ten. “So I got up and made myself coffee which sucked-“ She wasn’t very good at making coffee either. “And then I was stressed and jittery-“

Wait. When had she said she was stressed? Robby frowned.

“So I figured I better distract myself with packing, and then I bet I could find a mover that would start today, and I totally won, but I got distracted trying to downsize my wardrobe so they’re gonna come back tomorrow.” The words spilled out of her mouth in a jumble, “Anyway, I definitely didn’t think about dinner when I was emptying the kitchen, so how do you feel about Indian food?”

He decided to ignore the question in favour of asking, “Why were you so stressed?”

Gracie snorted, “Did you forget about your last day at work?”

“No,” he’d thought about it half the day too, but, “I’m not going to get stabbed again Gracie.” He twisted his hand to hold hers properly, smoothing his thumb over her skin.

“I know,” she replied, “that’s what all that fancy new security is for, but anxiety’s a fickle bitch, you know?” She slumped to rest her head on his shoulder, “But you’re home now, and you’re fine, so I am too.”

It was interesting to hear her feelings laid out that way. Robby had been anxious too. But he was home, and Gracie was fine, so he was too, “You could’ve called me,” he mumbled into her hair.

“That doesn’t seem fair to you. Besides, you’re way too busy to take my calls at work.”

That was true, as a rule, but he would’ve liked to hear her voice, “You could leave me a voicemail,” he suggested mildly, “I know that’s kind of an old person thing, but,” he let the joke trail away.

Gracie lifted her head to smile at him, “Don’t you get enough of my talking at home?”

“Nah,” he grinned back.

Gracie hummed, “Okay.” She bumped his shoulder with her own, “Go shower.”

“Fine,” he shoved up to his feet and winced when his leg tried to cramp. Gracie stood a little more gracefully and kicked the safe door with a slippered foot, “What’s in that thing anyway?” He’d spent a long time afraid to ask, but her indeterminable riches were apparently something he was going to need to get used to.

“Uh,” Gracie bent and yanked the door back open to inspect the contents, “Jewelry, cash, important paperwork, a signed John Cena tshirt, and the only scrapbook my mother ever made when she thought that was gonna be her thing.”

The contents were somehow unsurprising, and still deeply fascinating. He was sure the value of the jewelry would make him want to vomit if he thought about it too hard. He reached out a hand, “Let me see that scrapbook.”

“Oh fuck no,” Gracie slammed the door of the safe and twisted the handle, “It’s so embarrassing. It’s only locked up so nobody can blackmail me with the contents.”

“C’mon, I wanna see what you looked like as a kid,” he grinned at her.

“Trust me, you don’t,” she set both her hands on his chest and steered him backward into the bedroom.

”Worried I’ll blackmail you?”

Gracie kicked at the pile of clothes on the floor, turning several small piles into one huge one, “I’m an excellent negotiator, there’s no way I’m sharing that scrapbook for nothing,” she bent to scoop up a piece of grey fabric and surveyed it, “You show me some embarrassing photos from twenty years ago and we’ll talk.”

Robby had some. They were in a sealed plastic bin in his closet. But twenty years before, Gracie had been in middle school and he’d been a resident in Chicago. He’d prefer not to think about that, ever, much less highlight it for her.

He didn't really want to hear what she’d say of a picture of him at thirty. And he really didn’t want to hear what she’d say of his fucking wedding pictures.

At the time, it had seemed like getting married was the thing to do. He could remember, vaguely, that he and Caroline had been happy. He had the job he’d always dreamed of, a nice apartment, and a girlfriend he loved. A wedding was the next box to check. Then maybe a kid or two, and his life would be the way he’d imagined it the whole way through med school.

It might have even gone that way, if he’d picked literally any other specialty.

But at the time, the hospital wasn’t all that picky about how many hours residents worked, and they were always short staffed, so he was always working. He slept on a couch in the staff lounge as often as he slept at home. He never once made it home on time and only remembered to call to say he wasn’t going to every tenth shift.

The divorce wasn’t a surprise. They definitely weren’t happy anymore when he got served papers, but it was still solidly heartbreaking. He realized that since the job wasn’t going to change, he was better off on his own where it was only his own heart he’d be breaking.

He moved, got a new job doing the same thing, and was alone. For a while.

And then he met Janey and thought maybe things would be different, because he loved her, and loved Jake, and they were happy. Then the job, and his inability not to do it, and his trauma from the inability not to do it, fucked that up too, and it was just as heartbreaking as the divorce.

He realized, again, that he really was better off on his own.

And then there was the thing with Collins, which again he thought would be different, because she worked emergency medicine and she got it. Sort of. It was a little better because it was both of their jobs screwing things up, not just his. Then it was a little worse because by the time Collins realized there was no fixing his shit, he was at least halfway in love with Gracie.

Who was a patient. And too young. And dying.

He never lost a patient to the same mistake twice, but when it came to his own heart he was dead set on smashing it to pieces apparently.

“Uh-oh,” Gracie dropped the fabric she was still holding and studied him, a frown on her lips, “What’s that face for?”

“What face?”

She tilted her head, “That extremely sad look on your face.”

As a rule, Robby didn’t talk about how he felt. If he could shove the feeling away and ignore it, he did. It didn’t work all that well, admittedly. Regardless, it was Gracie standing in front of him and the rules had never applied to her, “I’m afraid,” his heart twisted up in his chest, “That one day you’re going to stop being okay with my job, and my forgetting to call, and the sad look on my face.”

The look on her face, as serious as it had been, went soft. She twisted her fingers in the hem of her sweater, “Are you afraid I’ll leave?”

Whenever he read an article to her, she always asked the best questions, “Yes,” she made a sound, almost a protest, “It’s happened before. Three times. I told you that I was married, right?”

They hadn’t really talked about it, it was so far past it seemed irrelevant in the context of their relationship, but he had told her all the way back when she was sick. He could remember the conversation.

She was in the ED for maybe the fifth time. Her friend Max had brought her in for the persistent vomiting that occured anytime she’d so much as drank a little water, and had lasted for two days.

It had taken him a little while to realize she was there, and when he did he grilled Shen for fifteen minutes about his differential, and then went to find her. It was the weird grey period of time when he hadn’t realized yet what had happened, but was inexplicably drawn to her anyway.

Gracie had been, despite the awful pale tone to her skin and IV in her arm, happy to see him. Even when he lectured her for five minutes about waiting so long to come in. Somewhere in the middle of his rant, Max rolled her eyes in a way that was practically audible, stood up and announced she was going to go flirt with the hot doctor some more.

Robby was dumbfounded. He watched her go, then muttered, “Hot doctor?”

”Yeah,” Gracie grinned at him, “She means Shen. I told her she needs to be more specific, they’re all hot here.”

Something unfamiliar and sharp had rolled through him and for a second he felt a burn in his throat like he was going to vomit, but what came out of his mouth was a slowly drawled, “Right.”

”Sorry, should I not be objectifying your entire department?” With difficulty obvious enough that he moved forward to help her, she sat up on the bed and crossed her legs at the ankles, then reached for the extremely yellow bucket she’d brought in with her and cradled it against her stomach, “It’s my one joy at the moment. Max thinks she can make it out of here with a date today but I told her doctors are either married or emotionally unavailable.”

”That is,” he trailed off. He didn’t know what that was. She made a low sound and the hand he hadn’t removed from her shoulder after helping her sit took up a slow circle across her back.

”Totally true and you can’t even deny it?” Gracie curled over a little more, “Which one are you?”

”Divorced,” he replied. What he didn’t say, and didn’t even think of until he was home and looking at his ceiling in the middle of the night, was that he was seeing someone. It should have made him recognize the lifespan of whatever was between him and Collins was past, but it didn’t. That took another few months and her telling him as much to his face in the ambulance bay.

”Secret third option. Is that because of the emotional unavailability or is it the other way around?”

He laughed, even though it wasn’t funny and the answer was both. Gracie laughed too, for about two seconds until she started throwing up again.

That had been the whole conversation. He didn’t tell her any more about his marriage, and she never asked.

Standing on opposite sides of the bedroom, a huge pile of laundry between them like a wall, Gracie studied him. She twisted up her sleeve, the familiar sign that she was upset. He could imagine the questions she might ask now that he’d opened the door on the subject. Questions about what had happened and who was at fault, and he couldn’t in good conscience tell her anything other than the truth.

”Can I tell you one?” She asked instead.

Confusion twisted up on his face, ”One what?”

“One of my fears,” She dropped the fabric of her sleeve and reached across her stomach to grip her opposite wrist, right over the scar he knew was there. She didn’t wait for him to answer, “I’m afraid that I’m gonna get sick again,” The sound that ripped its way out of his mouth was terrible but she kept going, “And you’re going to leave.”

He couldn’t think of anything worse than her being sick again. At least in his nightmare where she told him she didn’t love him anymore and walked away, she was well and went on living her life. If she was sick-

He kicked his way past the wall of fabric on the floor and wrapped his arms around her tightly, like that would be enough to protect her from the thought, “Gracie, I wouldn’t,” It felt like a promise he could make, when he’d fallen for her in the ED in the first place.

She gripped tightly at the back of his sweater, her hold grounding, “I know. And I’m not going anywhere either.”

He exhaled, the weight of the fear that had gripped him slipping away. She was right. Anxiety was a fickle bitch, and he was more afraid of losing her than just about anything else. But he trusted her too. Trusted her to say what she meant, and trusted her to stay.

Chapter Text

“Left. Left. Little more. Little-“

“Gracie,” he let his head fall, both hands still braced against the framed painting he was keeping pressed to the wall, “I think we’re out of left.”

“Huh.” She was quiet for a second, “Yeah I think that just doesn’t go there.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he wasn’t really mad, but he was definitely ticking toward annoyed. He gripped the edges of the frame and lowered it to the floor to lean against the living room wall.

Gracie had, with a small fleet of movers and two of her friends, moved the entirety of their possessions into their new place while he was working. He’d been conflicted about letting her do it all herself, and her idea of compromise was allowing him to help her unpack on his days off.

It was a compromise he regretted only because she’d become shockingly indecisive the minute they’d started. He wanted to let her decorate the space but was rapidly getting the impression some executive decisions needed to be made and he was going to need to make them.

“Something has to go there,” she muttered, waving an irritated hand at the empty space, “Otherwise it’s just wall.”

“Is it possible,” he turned and crossed the space between them in a few strides to cradle her face in his hands, “That it can just be wall?”

Gracie met his eyes. She tilted her head thoughtfully, then surveyed the wall over his shoulder. She reached up and hooked a finger in the collar of his tshirt, “No.”

Robby hung his head, defeated.

“But it is possible that we can take a break and get a croissant,” she ducked a little to catch his eye and wiggled her eyebrows.

“Fine,” he agreed. He didn’t totally share her love of baked goods, but he thought the walk would be helpful, “When we get back we’re doing the kitchen.”

Gracie threw her head back and groaned, “Noo, the kitchen sucks.” She had successfully avoided unpacking any kitchen boxes for three days, for no reason Robby could determine, “Let's do the books!”

“No,” he kissed her forehead and let her twist away to go find her coat, “We need to unpack the kitchen so we can cook,” so he could cook, really. He followed her to grab his jacket off the hook by the door and pulled it on.

“Ugh,” she shoved her arms through the sleeves of her jacket and slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder. Then she paused and surveyed him sidelong, a little grin tugging at the edge of her mouth, “or we could do the spare room? Make the bed?” She reached out and pressed her hand to his chest, “Mess it back up?”

She thought she was going to get out of unpacking Tupperware by distracting him. He wasn’t twenty anymore, “No,” he took her hand and twined his fingers with hers, “But after we unpack the kitchen we can fuck in it if you want,” he was still a man.

Gracie acquiesced to his leading hand and followed him out the front door, pausing while he locked it before heading down the steps ahead of him, “I guess that’s a pretty good compromise. You wanna sweeten the deal and make me pancakes after?”

“Sure,” he was willing to make her whatever she wanted provided he could still stand after getting her bent over the counter. He tried to redirect his thoughts as they emerged into the early afternoon sunlight, “Hey, why were you sending Jack pictures of furniture?”

“Well, I was gonna buy a chair for the living room, and it would be Jack’s chair, but he never texted me back so clearly he doesn’t love us anymore,” she rifled for a second in her purse then pulled out a pair of sunglasses and set them on her nose. She never managed to keep a pair more than a few weeks but they looked extremely familiar.

“Are those mine?”

“Yeah.”

He would’ve been irritated but they looked good on her so he couldn’t quite summon the feeling. He considered her thought process, “Why does Jack need a chair?”

“Everybody needs a something,” That was a nonsense statement but she kept going, “So they know they’re welcome to visit. That’s why I have that insane cappuccino machine I don’t know how to use. Izzy was a barista in California for a minute, and she’s extremely nitpicky about her beverages.”

It was a strange idea that she explained as though it was a given. Something everyone did, to show their friends that they were loved. He reached to twine his fingers with hers again, “Jack still loves us. He’s just-“

”Being an ass?”

”Having a hard time,” Robby corrected. Jack was having a hard time, though he wouldn’t say exactly what the problem was and Robby couldn’t quite figure it out, “He’ll come around.”

Gracie clicked her tongue, “Sure.” She seemed to be considering something, but he didn’t have a hope of telling what it was.

For a long time, Robby had been reluctant to hold her hand in public. It didn’t really matter, Gracie had a way of showing affection that was obvious to onlookers and people recognized them as a couple whether they were touching or not. Their relationship earned them not infrequent looks that he could feel like a persistent itch at the back of his neck. The judgement, even from total strangers, pricked at his heart. He didn’t want to subject her to it.

But if she noticed at all, she could’ve given a fuck. She held his hand, and smiled while she did it.

The baristas at the coffee shop they favoured had long since quit with the measuring looks like they were trying to sus out if the relationship was genuine or some kind of sugar baby situation. Instead they offered smiles, and asked if they wanted their regulars. Gracie replied with a bright affirmative, and then a series of questions to the woman at the counter, Jenna, about her new kitten.

Robby waited patiently, then nudged her aside when another customer stepped through the door and into line behind them. He offered a mild, “Sorry,” over his shoulder. Then he did a double-take. It didn’t happen often, but occasionally he saw patients from the Pitt out in public and remembered them well enough to take notice, even if they didn’t. He didn’t usually say anything, he’d found that most people didn’t want to think about their recent ER visits, even if he felt like making small talk with a stranger.

Gracie didn’t share his outlook, apparently. She glanced backward at his leading hand, saw the woman, and said, “Elena Cooper?”

Elena, whose eyes had lingered on Robby’s face in a way that definitely meant she’d clocked him as the doctor who had given her stitches several weeks before, turned her head a little to blink at Gracie, “Grace?” Her eyes flicked between them.

“Hey,” Gracie grinned, “How are you? How was the rest of that show the other day?”

Elena offered a little smile in return. Her voice was quiet when she replied, “It was alright. Good I mean. Orville sold several pieces.”

Gracie blew a raspberry, “Yeah I bet he did. Some people have no taste.” She twisted to gesture vaguely at him, “This is my partner Michael.”

Robby cleared his throat, “We’ve met. Nice to see you,” although, he wasn’t sure it was. The something that Jack was going through obviously had to do with Elena, and he really hadn’t liked that Grace had seen some of it. The two of them together in a space seemed like the kind of thing Jack would really hate.

Gracie blinked at him, then Elena, “How do you two know each other?”

He wasn’t allowed to say, so he didn’t. Elena looked mildly uncomfortable and answered, “I needed stitches, a little while ago.”

”Oh!” Gracie nodded, “That’s too bad, but he’s really good at them so lucky you.”

The awkwardness dissipated a little. Elena smiled, “I don’t really have anything to compare them to.”

Gracie laughed, “You can take my word for it. I’ve spent a lot of time watching him work.”

Robby wondered what the fuck kind of impression Jenna was getting from the conversation. She seemed intensely interested. He averted his eyes from where she was pouring his coffee and looked at Gracie, just in time to see the look that crossed her face. He was pretty sure he recognized it, and might’ve liked to get ahead of it, but didn’t know how.

”Hey, I know you said the other day that you weren’t really looking to sell your art, but I really have to say that sketch you did of Michael was something else.”

Robby’s eyebrows furrowed together, “Sorry?”

Elena’s cheeks went red.

“I have a couple gallery contacts that are way less narcissistic than Orville. If you ever want to give showing some pieces a try,” She stepped back to grab their drinks from the counter and extended his toward him.

He took it. He wondered when Elena had drawn him, and when Gracie had managed to see it.

”No, I don’t-“ Elena stumbled over her words. She reached to twist a strand of hair around her finger. She really was cute, Robby could see what had Jack all stuck, “I don’t think so. Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” Gracie took his free hand and grinned, “Jack’s got my number.” There it fucking was. He turned to stare at her. She ignored him completely, edging sideways past a table and tugging him toward the door, “Anyway, we’ve gotta get back to unpacking our new place, it was great to see you. And seriously, consider showing some pieces, I guarantee you’d get interest!”

Elena returned the sentiment with a slightly confused goodbye, and then they were out on the sidewalk heading back in the direction of their place. Robby took a deep breath that didn’t wash away the irritation in his chest, “Gracie, what the fuck?”

”What?” She sipped her latte.

He was getting used to her pretending to be innocent. He really didn’t buy it anymore, “You seriously should not have done that.”

”Why not?”

He didn’t think he had to explain it to her. He gave an annoyed grunt and did it anyway, “Whatever’s going on with them, Jack is clearly not ready to deal with it. You can’t just-“

”Wrong.” Gracie waved her latte toward the sky, “I can just. You are the gentle friend that offers sensible solutions and unwavering support. I am the friend that bullies him into confronting hard truths.”

Robby stopped. He would follow her almost anywhere but there had to be a line. Jack was the line, “He’s not ready for that, Grace,” he snapped.

Gracie stopped too. She frowned at him, “And if he’s never ready? We just let him rattle on forever thinking that woman hates him when she clearly does not?”

”No,” he barked, “But it’s not your decision to make.”

”No,” Gracie agreed. She pointed back down the street at the coffee shop, “Now it’s hers.”

Robby stared. There was genuine anger rolling through his chest, hot and a little unfamiliar. He forced his feet to move, “I can’t believe you did that.”

”Well I did.” Gracie moved too, and seemed content to leave the conversation there.

He stalked down the pavement on quick strides, then realized that even angry he wasn’t willing to leave her behind and slowed. Side-by-side but not touching, they made their way home. Robby ground his teeth the whole way, positive that the trap Gracie had lain could only result in disaster. He had no idea why Jack was twisted up over Elena, and neither did Gracie. If she’d misjudged at all, it would force him into a situation he obviously wasn’t equipped to deal with.

Robby loved Gracie, but he loved Jack too. They had spent a few years yelling at each other in the hospital stairwell, Jack telling him he was fucked and Robby denying it. But his friend had never really pushed. He’d let Robby draw all the fake boundaries he wanted and was there when they tightened around his throat like a noose.

He shucked off his coat the second they were back in the apartment with the door closed and paced across the living room. He dropped his coffee to a side table and gripped the back of his neck firmly in an attempt to will away the disgusting knot in his chest.

”Michael?” He turned. Gracie had lost her coat too. She was hovering near the kitchen island. Her voice was soft, but not exactly apologetic, “Sometimes you get stuck and you need a push. And sometimes it’s awful. But I really think he needs the push.”

He ground his teeth together, “I don’t agree.”

“Okay,” Gracie moved to flip the lid off a box, “If she calls him I’ll apologize. But I don’t think telling him it might happen will be helpful.”

There was no sugar coating the fact that he was furious. It sat in his chest and raked over his ribs. Jack was his best friend. They protected each other. Robby was supposed to protect him from things like this.

But Jack and Gracie had a little something of their own. Something that he had planted when he’d invited Jack into her space, and which had taken on its own life since. He’d seen it, stuck in a hospital bed. It was possible that Gracie knew something he didn’t.

It didn’t stop him from being angry. He watched Gracie pull items from the box in front of her and line them up across the counter. Like she needed to see it all to know where anything would go. The whole picture.

He left her to do it, and picked up the painting still against the wall on his way down the hall. It would fit in the cutout between shelves in the walk in. Gracie would think it was funny and he would like that when he stopped being mad.

Chapter Text

“So then Izzy said- Shit-” Gracie stumbled, over a root or her own feet, recovered, and carried on, “That there was no way in hell. Which, good for her, real personal growth there. She always backslides.”

Robby nodded, then wasn’t sure why he had. She couldn’t see him from where she was five feet in front of him on the trail, and he didn’t know what she was talking about, “What’s that mean?”

Gracie waved her hand in a circle, “She’s never not gotten back together with an ex. Every time. For weeks at least, and it’s always terrible, and then they have a second, even messier breakup. It’s ridiculous.”

“Right,” He was familiar, at least, with Izzy’s most recent breakup, “But they’re still married, aren’t they? You don’t think they should try to make it work?”

Gracie scoffed, tripped on what was definitely a root, and recovered, “Fuck no. They broke up because he’s the worst. Second chances are reserved for fixable problems, not massive character defects.”

He didn’t love the sound of that. He could list a few character defects of his own, “What constitutes a fixable problem?”

She hummed and was quiet while she considered the answer. She had consented to getting up early that morning and most of their hike up the mountain had been done in silence, Gracie at his heels because she couldn’t be trusted to navigate the forks in the trail despite having done the same route several times. Somewhere near the top, she’d started into a story about Max, which reminded her of a story about Jack, which started him on a tangent about Collins, and then she had launched into the current topic of Izzy’s move to Pittsburgh and the subsequent romantic epiphany by her ex.

It was an insane story that saw them most of the way down the mountain toward the Jeep.

“I guess a fixable problem would be something that one could reasonably be expected to change if they were asked to. Like, you could ask me to stop stealing your clothes, and that would be totally reasonable,” She did like to wear his stuff. He had a hard time figuring out why when her own closet was half-full of designer labels, “But I’m never going to stop talking to my Dad so if our insane relationship bothers you, that might be a deal breaker.”

It did bother him, because their conversations tended to leave her a little upset, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. He considered what her stance might be on what was fixable, “What would you ask me to change?”

”Easy,” Gracie’s feet hit the gravel of the parking lot and she half turned to grin at him, “Put the cap back on the toothpaste when you’re done.”

It wasn’t what he expected her to say, but it did drive her crazy. He tried to remember to do it, but he was so used to opening things at work and tossing the package immediately, that it was a reflex, “I think I threw it out,” He admitted.

Gracie rolled her eyes, “Of course you did,” She stopped at the passenger door of the Jeep and turned properly to face him, “Now you do me.”

“Right here?” He teased, reaching to set his hands on her waist and pull her in against his chest.

She laughed and curled her fingers in his tshirt, “What thing would you want me to change?”

“Easy,” And it was because there were so few things that bothered him, and none that were real enough that he ever would’ve asked, “Quit stealing rocks from the trail.”

She rocked up on her toes to kiss him, short and sweet, “I didn’t steal any rocks.”

“Don’t lie, now,” He patted at her hips, “Where’d you put them?”

She twisted from his grip, laughing, “Okay! I took one rock!” She dug briefly in her hoodie pocket and pulled it free, pinched between two fingers to hold up like a treasure, “But look, it has a hole in it!”

He supposed if he had any interest in rocks at all, it would be an interesting one, “You’re a terrible liar, where’s the rest?”

Gracie huffed, “Okay, fine,” She unzipped the pocket of the bag strapped around her chest and pulled free a second, this one flat and grey, “But I just thought this one would skip really well and you were gonna go to the lake next week.”

He wasn’t sure why she would think he’d need a rock to skip, but he liked that she was thinking about him. Even if it was a half-assed excuse for something she did every time, “No more rocks.”

She shrugged and shoved both back in her bag, “I’ll think about it. Take me for coffee.”

She probably wouldn’t think about it. The next time they went for a hike she’d pick up another couple rocks and they’d go in the vase she kept in the kitchen. And they’d finish the tube of toothpaste they were using and start another and he would lose the cap for that too. And neither of them would be really annoyed at the other. He was willing to pretend, and rolled his eyes as he unlocked the car.

Their coffee shop was a little busy by the time they made it there. Enough that Gracie didn’t ask to see a picture of Jenna’s kitten, but not enough that the woman didn’t have time to eye them like she was wondering about the last exchange they’d had at the coffee counter.

Maybe it was just his projecting. He was beginning to recognize that he thought a lot about other people and their thoughts. He muttered to Gracie, “Do you ever feel like the baristas are judging us?”

“What for?” Gracie asked, glancing from her thumbnail to Jenna, “She doesn’t know you keep losing the toothpaste cap,” She dropped her hand to her pocket to fish out her phone.

Robby was used to her getting messages. Her friends texted her often, and there was a small list of people that she coordinated charity work with that texted her frequently. He didn’t get many. The list of people that texted him was pretty well limited to Gracie, Jack, and a handful of colleagues who occasionally tried to convince him to cover a shift.

She stared at her phone for a long time, eyebrows knit together. Eventually, as his coffee hit the counter closely followed by her latte, she said, “What am I looking at?” And shoved the screen toward him.

He blinked at it, then reached up to grab her hand and move it away from his face so he could focus on it properly. Her screen was taken up entirely by a grainy black and white image, “Who sent you that?”

”Katya,” Gracie tugged free of his grip and looked at the screen again, “Seriously, what the fuck am I looking at?”

Robby couldn’t help the little sound that escaped his mouth. He had met Katya a couple of times. She was twenty-three and worked at a bank. She and Gracie weren’t quite friends, they got along, but there was something weird and tense between them too. Because Katya was dating Gracie’s seventy year old father. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, “Well that- that would be a sonogram.”

Gracie’s face did something interesting. Her expression was almost neutral, except for the way her eyes narrowed, “Showing what?”

He was one hundred percent sure that she knew what it was showing. He wasn’t sure why she needed him to confirm it. He really didn’t want to, “Showing that she is about three months pregnant.”

Very slowly, Gracie started to nod. She shoved her phone in her pocket and reached for her latte, “Sure. Sure, why not. Why shouldn’t he have a kid at seventy? He did such a great job the first two times,” She stalked in the direction of the door and he was forced to grab his own drink and follow after her, “I’m sure he’s totally capable of chasing a kid around. And he’ll definitely retire to do it. And the massive heart attack he’s been building toward for twenty years won’t kill him before his kid graduates high school!” She shoved her way out the door, her voice rising once they hit the street, “Maybe this one will take over his fucking- Jesus Christ!” She kicked a soda can at the edge of the sidewalk and sent it careening off into a bush, “Fuck!”

“Gracie,” He reached for her but she swerved away from his hand to follow after the can.

“Goddamn it, who fucking litters? We don’t care about the planet anymore?” She bent and set her coffee on the sidewalk to dig the can free, “It’s gonna be roasted before that kid is twenty, fucking Mad Max situation,” She retrieved the can, picked up her coffee, and rocked to her feet.

“Gracie,” He tried for a soothing tone, to no apparent effect.

“I’m fine. I’m cool,” She wandered toward a nearby trash can and set the can on top, then waved wildly with her free hand, “This is not a problem. Totally normal family situation here. Not fucked at all.”

Robby followed her and snagged her hand out of the air. Gracie didn’t like to talk about her dad. She talked about her mom and brother fairly often, she loved them, but they were both gone. Even way back when they’d been alive and Gracie had been young, Robby got the impression that her father hadn’t been very present. His existence in their family unit wasn’t necessarily a source of joy. She loved him, but she didn’t like him very much.

“You’re allowed to be upset,” He offered quietly. The situation was pretty decently fucked.

“I’m not upset,” Gracie said quickly, “I just-“ she stalled. Then, suddenly, there were tears in her eyes, “I miss DJ.”

It wasn’t often that Grace got teary. The last time he’d been stabbed and in the hospital. He felt it in his heart like a physical pain. Gently he pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her tightly, “I’m sorry, Gracie.”

She made a noise that was almost a sob, “He’d think this shit was hilarious.”

Robby had met DJ, before he passed. A couple of times it had been him that brought Gracie to the ED. A couple more times Robby had been hanging around upstairs when he’d dropped by to visit. He was a little bit like Gracie, easygoing and quick with a joke, “Did I ever tell you about the first time I met him?”

Gracie sniffled, “No.”

Robby had seen Gracie’s name on the board and gone to see what the fuck was happening. At that point he’d seen her a half dozen times and each she’d been a little sicker, and he’d grown to like her a little more. When he pulled the curtain, there was DJ lounging in the hospital bed like he owned the place, ”He asked me if I was the hot doctor.”

Gracie huffed a laugh against his chest, “What did you say?”

His automatic first reaction had been to say ‘excuse me?’ He was already irritated at the lack of Gracie in the space, and it compounded weirdly with his confusion about the question. DJ’s exact words, when he sat up and answered, had been, ‘My sister said we’re waiting on the hot doctor.’ Robby remembered the board, connected a few dots very quickly, and replied, “Told him I was pretty sure he was looking for Shen.”

”Why?” Gracie asked, incredulous.

”He was your doctor that day,” He’d also recalled pretty vividly the conversation she’d had with Max about Shen a couple months prior. The one that had sat like lead and made him eye Shen a little more critically his entire set of shifts. For about ten seconds, he’d been full of red-hot jealousy. Then Gracie appeared from wherever she’d been, and greeted him brightly. They exchanged a few minutes worth of pleasantries before she’d asked if he could do her a favour and convince Shen she could go without an MRI, “Who did you mean when you were telling DJ about the hot doctor? Frank?” The name tasted sour.

”That’s a ridiculous question,” Gracie asserted firmly, pulling back to survey him, “I was definitely talking about you.”

Robby stared at her. He felt warm. He knew she loved him, but he would’ve been willing to bet that had taken a while. He couldn’t imagine that her fourth time in the Pitt she was referring to him as the hot doctor as though he somehow ranked above the rest of the staff, “Are you sure?”

”Yeah,” Gracie pulled away but reached for his free hand as she started back down the sidewalk, “Older man in Carhartt pants and a pair of slutty little glasses? No contest.”

He followed her lead, twining his fingers with hers, “Slutty?”

”Yeah,” She nodded, “And neither Langdon nor Shen would be my second choice.”

He felt buoyed by the statement. The conversation had shaken her out of her anger and sadness and she was grinning again. Curiosity scratched at his brain, “Alright, who would be?”

”I’d rather not say,” She lifted her cup and had a sip.

He did some mental math, “It’s Jack, isn’t it?”

She shook her head slowly, frowning, “He’s just missing the glasses,” She clicked her tongue and looked up at him, “After that it’s Collins. What a baddy. Can’t believe you broke up with her.”

”She broke up with me,” He admitted, “Partly for being too involved with one of my patients.”

”Doctor Robby,” Gracie purred, “Did you cross ethical boundaries for me?”

”No,” He drawled slowly, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Chapter Text

Robby blinked his way to wakefulness when his phone started to ring.

He had been sitting on the couch in the living room reading, intent on making it the whole way through the article Jack had sent him, but with the sun slanting through the glass of the roof and the beer in his hand, he’d nodded off instead. It would have helped if the article wasn’t so fucking boring. Or if Gracie was home to chirp at him every ten minutes and keep him awake. But neither of those things were true.

She’d been dragged off somewhere by Max, who had given three extremely vague half-explanations of where they were going that all sounded like bullshit. She’d paused long enough in the doorway to ask, “You can drive, right?” Like he would be expected to come get them at some point, then carted Gracie off despite her, mostly also false, protests.

He comforted himself with the knowledge that his girlfriend had promised never to take any party drugs when he’d found a baggie of MDMA in her medication safe.

It took him a second to dig his phone from where it had wedged itself between the couch cushions and he swiped to answer without looking when he did, “Hello?”

”Hey. Uh- Robby. Hi.”

It was enough to startle him awake properly. He lurched to sit up straight, “Hey. Jake.”

There was a stretch of silence that seemed to last forever. He wanted to say something, and wasn’t sure where the fuck to start. He hadn’t spoken to Jake since the shooting. Hadn’t wanted to reach out and remind him of what had been lost. Wasn’t sure that there was anything he could offer if he did.

“So I-“ There was a little pause, “I was in the neighbourhood. Thought I’d stop by. But Mrs. Sutton said you moved?” The whole thing was hesitant. Like Jake wasn’t sure he should be visiting in the first place, and didn’t understand why Robby wasn’t where he’d left him.

”Yeah,” He rocked up to his feet, overwhelmed by the urge to be in motion, “Just a few blocks. You wanna- you can come by?” His chest ached. He was afraid Jake would say no. Afraid he would say yes, too.

”Okay,” Jake said, “Uh, text me the address?”

”Yeah. Alright. I’ll see you in a bit,” He chewed on his cheek. Picked up the empty can on the coffee table and started toward the kitchen.

”Yeah, see you,” There was a click, and the call ended.

He scrolled until he found the message chain he had with Jake, months since its last use, and texted off the address. Anxiety swelled up behind his ribs. He rinsed the can in the sink and tossed it into the recycling.

For years, Jake had been his family. Was the closest thing that he had to a kid. Was his kid, as far as Robby was concerned. But that had been before. Before one of the worst days of his life, when Jake’s girlfriend had bled out in his hands. Before he’d taken the blame for it, because there was nothing else that he could do.

Irrationally the need to tidy up hit him. He swept a handful of loose papers into a pile and banished them to the junk corner under the stairs. Did a lap of the living room, tossing pillows straight and moving Gracie’s Knick-knacks. He tried not to think too hard and failed.

When the buzzer sounded he scrubbed his hands over his face, took a deep breath, and went to hit the button to unlock the door. For eighty seconds, he tried to compose himself. Then Jake knocked, and he opened the apartment door, and all the effort was wasted.

Robby wasn’t okay. But he could pretend, “Jake,” A different time, almost a year past, Robby would’ve hugged him. He didn’t think he should, and gripped the door instead.

”Hey,” Jake didn’t quite smile. He looked older. His hair was shorter and there were bruises under his eyes from where he obviously hadn’t been sleeping well. He toyed with the truck of the skateboard in his hand.

Robby remembered a second late to step back from the doorway, “Come on in.”

”Thanks,” Jake muttered. He took a few steps into the apartment and surveyed it as he leant his board against the wall, “Woah. This place is,” he trailed off.

Jake had been to his old place, which was nice, but not nearly as ridiculous as his current home, “It’s a little much,” He offered.

“Yeah,” He stepped a little deeper into the living room and eyed the bookshelves, “Why, uh- why’d you move?”

Robby opened his mouth to answer, then shut it. There was no way to get the words out and not remind them both about what had happened. But he didn’t think he could avoid the question either, “I bought the place. With my partner.” It was a little disingenuous, Gracie had bought the place and slapped his name on it, but those were the kinds of details that one didn’t really share with a teenager, he thought.

Something passed over Jake’s face, but it didn’t stick. He asked instead, “Who’s that?”

”Grace Summers,” He couldn’t keep standing by the door so he went to the kitchen instead, “I think you might’ve met her once.”

Robby knew Jake had, because he could remember the occasion. He’d been working on Christmas. It seemed like the decent thing to do when he didn’t celebrate and didn’t have anyone he was inclined to pretend to celebrate with.

Gracie had passed out and her mom had called the ambulance. By the time she made it to the Pitt she was already complaining about being fine, despite her blood pressure being in the toilet. She demanded her mom go back home and salvage the dinner she was sure DJ and her dad would manage to ruin, and then posted up at the charge station to bother him. Or so she said. He was only bothered by the fact that she wasn’t well.

She was telling him a story about ice skating when Jake came in. He’d been fourteen or so at the time. He knew Robby didn’t care about the holiday, but he brought him a slice of pie and a gift anyway. Tickets to a hockey game they went to together a few weeks after.

He’d introduced them. Why, he couldn’t begin to justify. Years later he could recognize he’d wanted two of his favourite people to know each other, but at the time he hadn’t been ready to look at that too closely.

Jake shook his head at the name, “I don’t remember. Sounds serious though.”

”Yeah,” Robby replied, “It is. You want a drink? Coke?”

“Sure,” Jake started toward the kitchen and slid onto one of the barstools while Robby pulled a can from the fridge and slid it across the counter to him, “You, like, planning to marry this lady?” His tone was joking.

Robby felt a little of his anxiety ease away, “Thinkin’ about it.”

“Woah,” Jake toyed with the can but didn’t crack it, “What, uh, what changed?”

Robby had told Jake once, years after the breakup, that one of the reasons he and Janie had split was that he couldn’t commit to being married a second time. It was a little bit true, but he’d said it to take some responsibility at a time that Jake blamed Janie for not having a dad. It was easier than explaining the laundry list of reasons they had actually split up.

He thought about it. What had changed? Definitely not him, still working long hours and forgetting to text that he’d be late half the time. Not his ability to open up about the things that happened while he was in the ED that left him unable to hold down a real conversation when he finally made it home.

He still felt guilty for it all, but the guilt was softer somehow, than it used to be. Malleable in the warmth of Gracie’s acceptance, “I don’t know. Just feels right,” He studied Jake’s expression as it changed.

“Right,” He twisted the tab at the top of the soda, “Robby?”

Robby was scared, suddenly, for what was going to follow. He swallowed it down, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” Jake’s voice was brittle. He frowned down at the counter and his shoulders hunched in, “For what I said to you when-“ The rest of the sentence choked off.

”Jake,” Robby rounded the counter on long strides. Sadness rose up in him and hit with the weight of a punch. He didn’t want Jake’s apology, he wanted to go back in time and fix things. Knew that as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t, “You don’t have to do that,” He sank into the stool on the end of the counter and reached out to grip Jake’s shoulder, “You don’t have to apologize.”

There were tears in Jake’s eyes when he turned, “I do! I was a dick and then Mom said you got hurt at work and almost died-“

“Shit,” He wondered how she knew, “I’m fine, Jake. I’m fine. That was- It was the worst day anyone could have. I wasn’t mad, not at you.”

Jake folded, slumping to press his face to the shoulder of Robby’s tshirt where the tears started to fall properly and soak the fabric. It was awful. He wished there had never been a reason for Jake to be hurt, but at the same time it was a relief. Like setting a broken bone. Robby loved the kid. It had killed him to let Jake go.

Robby muttered what he hoped were soothing statements and wrapped an arm around Jake’s back. They sat together, bent awkwardly to bridge the gap, for as long as it took for Jake to cry, pretend to be done, and then cry a little more.

When he was done for real and pulled away to scrub the sleeve of his hoodie over his face, he seemed embarrassed. Robby had been there. He preferred nobody know when he was breaking down. He asked Jake if he wanted a tour to distract him.

The kid had a lot to say about the apartment. That was fair. It was pretty ridiculous. He played with the curtains in the spare room, commented on the art hung in the hallway, and then picked up the photo on the bookshelf when they made it back to the living room.

The photo wasn’t particularly nice and neither was the frame. It was a selfie he’d taken, because Gracie said his arms were longer and that was important, but that she’d framed by tugging at his sleeve until the angle was right. There was a vista of huge trees behind them, clear blue lake water peeking between them in the afternoon sun, but it played second fiddle to Gracie’s face. He’d said something, he couldn’t remember what, and it made her laugh as he was taking the photo.

Jake studied it, “Is this her?”

”Yeah,” Robby confirmed. He wasn’t sure what Jake was seeing and there was a nervous bubble in his chest.

“This woman is seriously beautiful,” He waved the frame, “And she’s dating your old ass?” Robby snorted a laugh, “You better lock her down before she comes to her senses.”

”I’m working on it,” He sank into the couch cushions.

Jake set the frame down on the shelf and crossed the plush carpet to sit down on the other side. He pet a hand over the fabric and turned to squint up at the glass half of the ceiling, “What does that mean?”

Robby rubbed his hand over his jaw, “Well, I’d need to buy a ring.”

There was a long pause, then the kid swiveled to squint at him, ”Why is that a problem?”

“There’s a diamond ring the size of a golf ball in her jewellery box,” It was an exaggeration. It was the size of a Cadbury Mini Egg, and it was in the safe, “Not really sure how I top that.”

It wasn’t even the only ring. Or the most impressive, in his opinion. He was pretty sure the collection in the safe cost a small fortune. Gracie didn’t tend to care about how much money things were worth. She didn’t like them better for the fact that they were expensive. She also didn’t wear the ring in the safe, so he reasoned she didn’t like it very much. He thought she would prefer something more delicate. Still, the ring was a good enough excuse. He could pretend it was the only problem and not look at the other one too closely. The one where he was pretty sure he didn’t have the guts to actually ask Gracie the question when it was so much safer not to.

But if he never asked, he could never hear her say yes.

He tried to shove the thought from his brain, “How’re the university applications going?”

Jake groaned, “Not you too.”

”What? I’m not allowed to be interested?”

“They’re fine, but every fucking essay is about explaining a hardship you’ve overcome and I can’t-“ He slapped his palms on his knees, “I’m not gonna write about it.”

Robby nodded, “You don’t have to.”

Jake huffed. For a long second the room seemed heavy. Like a physical weight hung in the air, pressing them down into the couch cushions. Then he waved his hand toward the TV, “There’s a game on.”

”Great,” Robby had no idea if he meant football or baseball, but he was willing to watch either. He gestured at the table at Jake’s end of the couch, “Remote’s over there. Hope you can figure it out because I can’t.”

”Oh my God,” Jake muttered, reaching to snag it.

Robby took the ribbing about being too old to figure out his own TV, and they watched the second half of a football game. When Jake left, it was late enough that Robby called him an Uber. He’d seen enough kids delivered to the ED for skateboarding at night.

He felt fifty pounds lighter. He couldn’t change the past, and he still felt the loss of the day, but Jake’s forgiveness soothed a little of it. He wondered if there was something he could do for the kid in exchange. Something small to ease the huge weight he was obviously carrying.

Robby had never managed to let go of his own awful shit. He wasn’t sure how to help Jake do it.

He changed into sweatpants. Brushed his teeth. Loaded the dishwasher. Thought about going to bed and didn’t because Gracie was still out. He picked up the article that had bored him to sleep, and read it the entire way through. He thought about going to bed again, but Gracie was still out.

He didn’t think he had anything to worry about. She hadn’t said where she was going or how long she would be, but she was with Max so probably a restaurant and probably hours. Max was good at getting into trouble, but Gracie was good at getting out of it so the odds on that seemed even.

But Robby had worked nights for a while. He could think of all kinds of different things that would have a person late to get home. Had enough anxiety in his chest to make him start counting reasons when the clock hit midnight.

He was at fifteen when the door swung open and Gracie half-stumbled through, “Oh hell-“ She recovered and kicked the door shut as she cast a rapid glance across the living room, “Hey, you’re still up!”

He scratched at the side of his neck and rocked to his feet, “I was waiting for you,” He crossed the rug to meet her where she was peeling off her coat and kissed her. She tasted like espresso and vodka, bitter and sharp, but it was a relief all the same.

“Waiting to make me a grilled cheese?”

She smiled when she said it and the warmth was so overwhelming he found himself nodding, “Sure.”

”Yes,” She gave him another wet kiss on the cheek and bounced toward the stools at the island, “I told Mac about my future sibling and she said-“ She paused, halfway seated, and squinted at the countertop, “Who was here?”

”How’d you know someone was here?” He asked, following after. He didn’t really want to cook anything after midnight, now that he knew Gracie was fine he wanted to drag her to bed and go to sleep, but he pulled bread from the pantry anyway.

Gracie reached out and flicked the side of the Coke can, still where he’d slid it hours before, “You don’t drink soda and neither does Jack.”

“I’ve got other friends, you know,” He opened the fridge for butter and cheese. She hummed and he was pretty sure the hum meant that he didn’t, but she wasn’t about to call him on it when he was in the middle of doing something for her, “Jake stopped by.”

Gracie, who was mostly slumped to the side with her elbow propped on the counter, straightened, “Like, Jake?” She made a vague, chest-high gesture.

Robby supposed when Gracie had met him, the kid had been about that tall, “Yeah.”

For a minute, she didn’t say anything in reply. She watched him set a pan to heat, butter bread, and slice cheese. Robby didn’t say anything either. Gracie knew about the shooting. She knew about the whole goddamn day, and everything that it had taken, from him and from everyone else. He had told her, but he had almost fucked things up first.

They had been out a handful of times at that point. It was going well, but he hadn’t really believed it. And then he’d gone to work on the anniversary of Adamson’s death, and gone home neatly cracked in half.

He packed up his Jeep, and got out of town. For three days he holed up in a tent hours from Pittsburg. He didn’t answer his phone, and he tried not to look at who was calling. Then he went home, and went back to work, and kept not answering his phone. It was too difficult. And then every hour that he didn’t reply to the two voicemails Gracie had left, the harder it got. He was positive by the seven day mark, that he’d fucked up so completely she would never want to hear from him again.

Then she turned up on the front step of his apartment. She’d given him a look that wasn’t quite a smile and said, “I know you’re too old fashioned to ghost me. What’s going on?”

They didn’t even make it inside. He’d poured out the whole day on the cement steps and Gracie stood there and listened to the whole thing. Then she gave him a hug.

Finally, when her sandwich was in the frying pan, she said mildly, “That’s good, right?”

”Uh,” He steered his brain back toward the conversation they’d been in the middle of, “Yeah. I was really glad to see him.”

”How’s he doing?” Gracie spun the can on the counter and looked at him, her eyes steady on his face.

”I don’t know exactly. Not great, I don’t think,” He didn’t see how there could be any other answer.

Gracie hummed again, “That’s really tough,” She tapped her fingers twice on the aluminum, “And how are you?”

”Me?” He turned to flip the grilled cheese and felt better for her steady gaze being off his face, “Good. Why wouldn’t I be?”

”Do you want me to pretend I don’t know Langdon’s back at work soon?”

Robby could feel the words all over, locking up the vertebrae in his spine. Something hot and sharp crackled behind his ribs. He stared at the bread in the pan. He wasn’t entirely sure how Gracie knew that, because he hadn’t told her. He’d been pretending, for the most part, that it wasn’t happening. He picked up the frying pan and slid the sandwich onto its little plate. He turned and set it on the island so he could pick up the knife and cut it into two neat triangles. Then he slid the plate toward Gracie, “Yes. I would like that.”

”Okay. I will. For now,” She smiled at him, “But only because I love you.”

Chapter Text

Robby was sitting on the couch, a book in his left hand, and his right in Gracie’s hair.

It was probably his favourite place to be. Sickeningly comfortable between the cushions under him and the warmth of her body against his thigh. He had his feet kicked up on the ottoman and was slouched a little. There was a cop drama on the TV he hadn’t been paying attention to and didn’t think Gracie was either. She seemed to be alternating mostly between dozing and texting Max.

He should’ve been happy. Any other day he would’ve been. But he’d looked at the calendar that morning and recognized the date looming up at him and hadn’t been able to shake it. Over the course of the day anxiety had slithered its way into his chest and stuck, and he had no idea what to do with it.

“Gracie?” He stroked her hair gently. She made a noise that didn’t entirely convince him she was awake. The same hum she gave him sometimes when he asked her if she wanted coffee in the morning before he returned with it and found her fast asleep, “Gracie.”

”Hm? Yeah?” She let go of her phone and it tipped off the edge of the couch with a clatter, “Dang,” She didn’t reach for it, she rolled a little instead so that she could look up at him, “What’s up?”

“I’m going to stay home tomorrow,” He answered. He was supposed to go to work. He was supposed to go, and supervise Langdon’s first day back. He’d been dreading it. Avoided looking at the date so he could pretend it wasn’t coming. It was why it had taken him so long to make the connection.

Gracie frowned, “What’re you talking about?” She rolled back to look at the TV, “You never miss work.”

He didn’t. He really didn’t. Not unless he was sick enough that he physically couldn’t do the work, or contagious enough he couldn’t justify it, “I’m going to miss tomorrow.”

She gave a little huff and reached to wrap her hand around his shin, “You can’t miss tomorrow, it’s Langdon’s first day back.”

He’d mostly forgotten that she knew that. He still wasn’t sure how she did when he hadn’t told her, “Doesn’t matter. Someone else can deal with him,” Jack would go in if he told him it was important.

For a second, Gracie was quiet. He listened to the voices from the TV speaker. Then she shoved up to sit and reached to hit the power button on the remote. The screen went black, and the apartment was silent. She hitched her knee up on the couch so that she could face him properly, “Why are you trying to skip out?”

He didn’t want to pull it out into the open. It was why he’d spent the day trying to ignore it. He shrugged, “You don’t have a job. Thought I’d try it out.”

She laughed, “Yeah right. You’re gonna try to work ‘til you’re eighty,” She tilted her head, her grey eyes locked on his, “Is this about Langdon?”

“No,” As much as he didn’t want to see Frank, he was going to have to. There was no avoiding it, not really, and that problem paled in comparison to the other, “It’s about you.”

“Me?” Gracie raised her eyebrows, “Why would you skip work because of me?”

The words left his mouth low and sad, “I know what tomorrow is, Gracie.”

Very slowly her expression changed. Her eyebrows knit together and the corner of her mouth hitched up into the wry imitation of a smile, “Yeah, well. I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

His heart broke a little in his chest and he reached for her, stroked his hand across her cheek to settle at the back of her neck, “You shouldn’t be by yourself.”

”It’s fine,” She pulled out of his grip and stood.

”Grace-“

”I’m serious,” He watched her yank her shirt, his really, straight, and turn her back to wander toward the kitchen, “It’s fine. No worse than the holidays and I got through those just fine.”

She had never pulled away from him that way before. The closest she’d come was when she’d avoided his questions for as long as he’d been in the hospital. He stood up to follow her, “You weren’t fine.”

The holidays were weird and a little bit upsetting to begin with. They’d planned to lock themselves away and not see anyone for the duration, but the plan had been shot to hell by Gracie’s dad who phoned and was furious. Gracie stood her ground for thirty minutes, before Declan said something and cracked her. She refused to tell him what had been said, but the result was that she agreed to go have dinner at her dad’s on Christmas Day.

It might’ve been fine. Robby maintained that he definitely shouldn’t go, and he didn’t care about Christmas in the first place to feel badly about being on his own.

But Gracie spent the whole morning just a little bit sad. It was enough that he didn’t want to let her go, and worried when he did. Then she came back, and was so obviously upset that there was nothing to do but take her to bed and wrap his arms around her as tightly as he could. She told him firmly that she didn’t want to talk about it and he was afraid to press.

“That’s not what I said,” Gracie said flatly. She opened the fridge and he was sure it was only so she didn’t have to look at him on the other side of the island, “I said I got through it fine.”

Very occasionally, he was reminded that she was an extremely competent litigator, “What’s the difference?”

”The difference is that I will be sad,” She slammed the fridge door shut, “But I will not cut my wrist open in the bathroom.”

The silence in the apartment was suddenly deafening. He opened his mouth but there was no air in his lungs to speak.

“Shit,” She pressed both her hands to her face, “I didn’t mean to say that,” Her hands fell and she turned to look at him, her expression twisted up, tears in her eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

He stepped around the counter and wrapped his arms around her tightly, felt her grip tight at the back of his shirt and listened to the broken apology that spilled out with the tears into his chest, “It’s okay,” He muttered, even though it wasn’t, for either of them. He wished there was something, anything that he could do for his family. His family who had loved people and lost them and who spilled out their grief at his kitchen island in horrible parallel to each other, “What can I do?”

Gracie had asked him that question before. His answer had been to stay with him. To keep her hands on him where he could feel the warmth of her. Her answer was different, “Just- I need you to pretend it’s okay. So I can pretend too.”

He understood what she was asking for but it was the last thing he wanted to give, “Gracie.”

”It’s not like the other days,” She took a deep, shaking breath, “There’s nothing good about it. I can’t-“ She choked out a sob.

He thought he might know what she was getting at. Her brother’s birthday had been a few months before. Gracie had insisted, in the way she had that he never could say no to, that there were traditions to follow. She dragged him to an animal shelter. They spent an hour petting kittens until she was sneezing so badly from her allergies that he told her they better go before she needed a shot. She agreed, but only after writing a cheque he declined to look at.

Then they had to go buy an ice cream cake from a shitty fast food restaurant and eat as much of it as they could before leaving. They both felt like garbage by the time they made it to the park, but that was fine according to Gracie, because they just had to lie in the grass.

When he asked her what the deal was with DJ’s birthday traditions, she had told him what DJ had told her. That he liked to celebrate every birthday like he was five again, and that was what the day had looked like. They had celebrated each other’s birthdays together every year. Robby could see on her face that she was sad, but the day had been good too. She told him what felt like a million stories and laughed more times than she teared up by a wide margin.

There was no good to celebrate on the anniversary of her family's death. It was just awful.

Gracie sucked in a deep breath and pulled far enough away that she could look at him. Her eyes were red and there were still tears on her face, “I would like to pretend that it’s just another day. And I can’t do that if you spend the day looking at me with that sad face,” she let go of his shirt to press her hands to his face, thumbing gently over the stubble on his cheek.

“You said you didn’t mind my sad face,” He muttered, gripping at her back a little tighter.

“I love your sad face,” She corrected, “But it’ll make me cry and I’m not hydrated enough to do that all day.”

It was a bad joke. The same kind she’d made when she was sick, to lighten the mood when it deserved to be heavy. He huffed and bent to kiss her, a soft press of his mouth to hers that lingered. He kept his forehead against hers when he pulled away, “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

”I know,” She kissed him again, “It’s just for a little while. When you get home we can order pizza and lie in bed together until the whole stupid day is over.”

Robby really wasn’t convinced, “What are you going to do all day?”

She made a low noise, “I’ve got a prenup to write.”

His mind went totally blank. He blinked at her, “What?”

Gracie rolled her eyes and shifted to press her cheek to his shoulder again, “There’s no way my Dad lets his kid be born a bastard, it’s like, a thing, so it’s only a matter of time before he proposes to Katya and he’s definitely making her sign a prenup before they get married.”

The words all made sense but he still felt like he was two steps behind her in the conversation they were suddenly having.

”If his lawyer,” She said the word like it was something scornful that didn’t also apply to her, “Writes it up, it’s going to be massively unfair. I can’t let him screw over Katya like that.”

”Right,” He drawled, “Is that- Do you-“ He didn’t know how to ask the question in his brain without giving something away. Although, he supposed there was nothing to lose, “Am I going to be signing a prenup if we get married?”

“Do you want one?” Gracie asked mildly.

He frowned, “Me? You have all the money,” That wasn’t exactly true, he had money, it was just that she had so much more of it.

”Well yeah, but you’ve been divorced before. I feel like that makes people skeptical of the whole marriage thing.”

It had made him skeptical. For years. He had intended to write off long-term relationships altogether, “Nah. Not me,” Gracie tipped back in his arms to survey him. It was clear from her expression, still tear-streaked, that she thought he was a liar. He tugged the sleeve of his sweater over his hand to wipe gently at her cheeks, “So you wouldn’t want one?”

Gracie shut her eyes and let him dab under her lashes, “No, I believe in love.”

He was glad she couldn’t see the expression that crossed his face. It definitely would’ve given him away.