Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There weren't any spontaneous combustions of symptoms, not really. It wasn’t as if one day Robby woke up and realized that he hadn’t touched another human being outside of his patients in months, that he hadn’t felt someone's hand touch his, hadn’t felt arms wrap around him, someone grabbing him and holding him close. It creeped up on him slowly, a trickling sensation running down his neck, the hairs raising on his arm. A warning. A premenition. He knew the signs of it, the symptoms, knew how in their most basic instincts, humans were still pack animals, still completely reliant on each other. But he’d never considered putting that knowledge towards himself. Not until they were in the middle of handover, when Robby was letting Jack know about the patients still waiting for surgery consults - too many - and the little boy who was next in line heading up to peds. Not until Jack Abbot, who Robby knew would deny it until his dying day, tripped. Not until he grabbed onto Robby’s forearm to stay upright, his hand grabbing purchase, gripping tightly. And Robby realized that at some point during the shift, he’d scrunched up the sleeves of his hoodie. And suddenly Jack was gripping his bare skin. And Robby felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

 Jack had of course brushed it off quickly, gaining his footing within seconds, and dropped his hand from Robby’s arm. Looked at him as if daring him to point out that the impeccable army medical officer, self claimed gift from God to modern emergency medicine, Jack Abbot would have been human enough to trip. Robby wasn’t sure what his face looked like, but considering that Jack hadn’t called him out on anything, he figured he hadn’t shown anything too bad. Hadn’t shown how he could still feel Jack’s fingers around his forearm like a brand. He ached to share it with him, to tell Jack about this new self discovery, but the knowledge that it had been weeks since the last time he’d found Jack on the roof stopped him. He couldn’t tell Jack, couldn’t put this on him, couldn’t burden him with something that really was just a minor inconvenience. He wanted to reach out. To take Jack’s hand and put it back on his arm. He didn’t do any of that. Instead he simply told Jack about how Myrna was back - how she’d claimed a 10 out of 10 pain in the left lower quadrant of her abdomen this time. 

It wasn’t until he’d left, until he was halfway home, feeling like he had aged another half century during a shift that in all reality hadn’t been too bad, that he finally checked his arm. Pulling back his sleeve he almost expected to see the imprint of Jack's fingers like a brand, finding clear skin without a hint of the burn he was feeling instead. Shaking his head, he resolutely told himself that he wasn’t disappointed. But he still felt it, the entire walk home, going through the same post shift routine that he always did, until he was lying in his bed staring at his ceiling in the dark. He still felt Jack’s touch. 

--

As the hypothesis formed in Robby’s head he mulled it over. It had been years since he was a fresh eyed resident walking into his psyche rotation, but he worked in an ER, and he still saw his fair share, still knew the treatment plan. He knew he should probably take Jack up on his offer for his therapist's number, talk it through with someone more qualified to deal with this particular situation. But something held him back, the same stray worry that had hacked at him when Addamson died, when covid hit and he hadn’t seen another person outside of PPE in weeks, when his parents died. The worry that if he opened Pandora's box it wouldn’t be possible to close it again, to contain the monster lurking underneath his skin, and Robby knew that that way lay a strong request from the board that he considered an early retirement. 

So he did what any self respecting doctor in his stead would do, he decided to start by validating his hypothesis, gathering data, and finding ways to manage his symptoms. Physician heal thyself , Dana’s words filtering through his mind. 

He didn’t change his habits overtly, in his own opinion, he simply tried reaching out more; Patting Whitaker’s shoulder in praise when he got a diagnosis right, despite the patient presenting with confusing and defuse symptoms. Accepting, and even offering, a fistbump when King managed to get a noncompliant patient to agree to following up her treatment plan. Bumping shoulders with Santos to encourage her to speak up when dr.Barajas from ortho was less than enthusiastic about admitting what was clearly a femoral collumn fracture. Every one of the short touches only strengthened his hypothesis, every brush of someone against him one more damning piece of evidence. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of Jack’s fingers against his arm. He wondered if maybe he was losing his mind.

-

“Something, something, jumping on someone else’s shift being rude, something” Jack’s voice was only slightly muffled by the wind, but Robby could still hear the worry in it, the forced calmness, “wanna come over to the right side of the safety rail there, brother?”

Robby could feel the tension in his shoulders, worsening with every word Jack said, could feel the monster raging inside his chest waiting to break out. He wanted to scream, to cry, to beg Jack to reach his talented hands into Robby’s chest cavity and kill it. Maybe that way it would be silent, wouldn’t claw against his diaphragma. It was rude to jump on someone else's shift, but his shift wasn’t ending for another fifteen minutes, and it wasn’t his fault that Jack was still in army mode, still convinced that on time was ten minutes late. He opened his mouth, searching for the words that he knew Jack was expecting. The slightly serious joke, alluding to the problem but never truly saying it out loud. But the monster inside his chest clamped tight against his lungs, and Robby couldn’t breathe , couldn’t even phantom speaking. He barely registered Jack’s voice, he was still speaking, never could stand the silence, but Robby couldn’t understand the words. His breaths came in too quickly, and logically he knew he was hyperventilating and it was just his parasympathetic nervous system convinced that he was in danger. But the monster was still clawing inside his chest, leaving painful welts that would bleed him dry. Too unaware of his surroundings, he didn’t notice the arm stretching towards him, didn’t see anything before he felt a warm hand cupping his neck. 

“It’s gonna be okay, brother, whatever it is,” Jack was saying, and he was so close now that Robby could feel the heat from his body against his back, his side, “you just need to breathe. Do you hear me, Michael? Breathe."

The hand cupping his neck tightened, and Robby couldn’t focus on anything else. Jack’s hands had always been a point of fascination. He had strong hands, calloused from weapons and medical equipment, from a life lived, and he was always using them. Pointing and shaking them, waving them around as he spoke, using them almost as much as he did words. Robby had watched his hands often, had thought of them too much these past few weeks, but hadn’t considered how good they would feel. How warm. He could hear Jack speaking, but the words were too far away for him to focus on, especially when he’d placed that warm hand on Robby’s neck. As if he knew what Robby needed without him having to speak, to allude to the monster in his chest. Another hand appeared on this shoulder, turning him towards the rail, towards Jack. The hand on his neck hadn’t moved, hadn’t loosened, and Jack used it now to drag Robby towards him. Climbing over the rail was awkward, body more used to going under, but he didn’t want to disturb the hand resting on his neck, squeezing intermittently now. As soon as he was back on the right side of the safety rail Jack grabbed him, pulling him into his arms, touching from thighs to chests, and Robby collapsed. He pushed his face into Jack’s neck, hiding in the crook where his shoulder met his neck, and grabbed his scrubs tightly in his hands. Jack was still speaking, crooning soft words into Robbys ear, hand still on his neck, the other scrunched tightly in Robby’s hoodie. 

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, how long they were clinging to each other, focusing on trying to match his breathing with Jacks. The monster still clawed, more subdued, but still there. He knew he should untangle them, give Jack a quick rapport on what was going on downstairs, who he needed to keep an eye on, who might be dicey. He gave himself one, two, three more heartbeats to be sheltered in Jacks arms before he pulled away. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck, like he had jumped and landed on concrete, body and mind broken. 

“Sorry,” he started, voice shaking, “m sorry. Fuck .”

Stepping back from the heat of Jack’s body felt like being plunged in an ice bath, a thousand needles prickling at his skin. Robby rubbed his hands over his face, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes, the motion shaking Jack’s hand away from his neck. He took another step back. Bracing himself he started building himself back up, brick by brick. He tried meeting Jack’s searching gaze, but he knew that Jack would see through him if he did, would see more than Robby wanted him to. Might even see how Robby wanted nothing else but to curl up inside of Jack’s chest cavity and live there, surrounded by his heat, protected. Safe. He forced himself to drag his eyes up, fixing them on Jack’s cheekbone.

“Nothing to apologize for, brother,” Jack started, “sometimes you just need to stare into the abyss for a bit. Always scary when the abyss stares back, though.”

He could see Jacks hands twitching in his peripheral vision, and he snorted. “Yeah, something like that,” he said, “but thanks. Let’s get this over with though.”

“Got a hot date or something?” Jack asked.

“Or something,” Robby said, “got a hot date with my bed more like it.” 

“How about you give me a quick rapport, and then crash in the on-call room, brother?”

At the question Robby couldn’t stop his eyes from jerking to Jacks, seeing the other mans ordinarily affable expression now serious, eyes drilling into Robbys. It wouldn’t be the first time, for either of them, that they had slept in the on-call room whilst the other worked. That they had stayed, because sometimes the roof whispered sweet nothings, and the other needed the reassurance that when the shift ended they would still be there. But it had been a long time since then, and despite the fact that there was a monster clawing inside Robby’s chest, he hadn’t thought about it. Not seriously. He had known in the back of his mind that Jack would be on tonight, because despite how much the monster inside him thrashed and clawed, Robby was always aware of Jack. He had known that he couldn’t do that to him, couldn’t jump just minutes before Jack would arrive at work, where he would expect to find Robby breathing and standing on his own feet. He couldn’t be Jack’s first patient of the night, his first loss. But the words wouldn’t come to him, leaving him unable to explain. 

“You don’t think you got it handled?” Robby asked with forced humor.

The joke was how they survived it, how they communicated their acknowledgment of the others' need without having to make it a whole thing. 

“Of course I can,” Jack scoffed, “I just figured I’d do the city a favor and not subject it to your tired face. Seriously man, you look like a zombie that’s been wandering in the pitt for the past 12 hours.” 

His words forced a bitter laugh out of Robby’s chest. Instead of answering him outright, he simply started walking towards the door, trusting that Jack would follow. They didn’t acknowledge it beyond that, didn’t speak of it again, simply getting through the handover on their way down to the pitt. And as Jack turned towards the board, groaning loudly about dayshift leaving them with all the boring stuff, Robby turned towards the on-call rooms. And if he wakes up every time Jack pokes his head through the door during the night, neither of them cares to acknowledge it.

Chapter Text

By the time he gets to work, Jack is ready to fight the world. 

For some god forsaken reason the city had decided that the pothole outside of Jack’s bedroom, the pothole that had been there for months and months , desperately needed fixing when he was between two night shifts. He wasn’t a stranger to loud sounds whilst trying to sleep - and even if he had been before, the army had kicked that part of him straight - but for some reason he hadn’t been able to sleep through it. And because Jack had apparently been the devil himself in a past life, his beloved coffeemaker had decided to call it quits on him, and he’d had to stop by the local Dunkin before his shift. 

He couldn’t imagine that his face was in any shape, way or form inviting, but that had never stopped Dana from coming up to him before.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” She asked with a tired smile. He wanted to snap back at her, but some hard ingrained instinct about not pissing off charge nurses held him back, even though she was pushing his patience as she walked next to him. 

“Not like you got pissed on, yelled at, or hell, even had to deal with curious baby doctors concerned that their senior attending is losing his marbles for the past twelve hours.”

The comment had him stopping in his tracks, and whilst he normally would have noted - and perhaps made some comment about - the soft huff of air rushing out of her as she collided into him, he was too focused on what she’d said.

“Why would anyone worry about Robby?” He asked, mentally preparing himself for another walk up the endless stairs to the roof, “Did something happen?”

“You mean besides him deciding that his teaching methods needed fixing, no, nothing,” she drawled,
“though if you’re hinting at him waking up and deciding that today is the day he should start showing actual physical human touch, then yeah, I’d say something happened.”

“So I’m not heading to the roof, is that what I’m hearing?” Jack asked, eyes scanning the ED after the apparently newly crazy attending. Normally it wouldn’t be difficult to find Robby, the man always on the move, going between patients, residents and students like the world would end if he simply stopped for two seconds to breathe, but Jack couldn’t see him fluttering about. 

“Besides,” he added, “the kids are always curious about one thing or another, just give them some time to realize that everyone here is slightly unstable and it’ll be fine.”

“You shouldn’t call them kids, you know,” Dana laughed, “not very professional of you.”

“I’ll stop calling them kids when they stop showing up to their first shifts young enough to be my grandkids.”

-

With the reassurance that he wouldn’t find Robby on the roof, Jack took the time to drop off his backpack in his locker and grab a cup of coffee from the staff lounge before he went looking for him. The first touch of the slightly burned and watered down coffee touching his tongue was heaven sent, and he took a couple of silent seconds to simply enjoy it.
Despite Shen’s over the top declaration of love for ‘ properly brewed coffee ’ from whichever coffee place he frequented that day, Jack had never been able to train his taste buds to really enjoy it. Learning to drink coffee in the desert between mortar shells and training drills might have impacted his preferences, but considering that he was fully capable of getting through whatever concoction was brewing in the staff lounge - the good stuff, if it was Mateo, some kind of demonic possession if it was Parker - he figured he’d gotten the better end of that deal.

He quickly downed the remaining dregs in his cup before starting his hunt - Robby wasn’t on the roof according to Dana, but she hadn’t told him where he could find him either, but Jack would always be able to find him.

-

“So!” Jack starts, walking towards the nursing station where Robby is doing some last minute charting,
“I looked at the schedule, and we’re both off for the long weekend.”

He looks over at the older man as he speaks, watching how Robby’s shoulders can’t seem to decide whether to tense up or relax as he hears Jack speak. 

It’s not as if Jack’s blind, he lost a leg back in the desert, not an eye, thank you very much. He’s noticed how Robby seems to be battling one hell of a demon these days, swinging from withdrawn and closed off to what seems as affectionate and open to everyone else, but Jack knows better.
He hasn’t been able to diagnose the problem, unable to see the correlation of the symptoms presented to him, but they’ve known each other for the better part of a quarter of a century now. Whilst Robby has never been one to shy away from physical contact, he’s also never been one to initiate it. Especially not since he became an attending, and the responsibility of the job meant he had to thread a thin line with the students and interns. 

But lately he’s been working on it, that much has been made clear, the night shift being no strangers to the gossip going around the hospital. And when the chief attending of the ER starts showing physical encouragement to the people he’s working with, people tend to notice. 

“So we are,” Robby responds, finally looking up at Jack over his glasses, “got any exciting plans?”

Something about the way Robby looks at him makes Jack’s heart speed up, the combination of the soft smile, the glasses and how Robby’s shoulders finally decided to relax, seeming to just do something for him. For a second it feels as if he got his breath ripped from his lungs, the sheer want to have Robby look at him like that all the time. Jack pushes down the idea, using all of his willpower to hide the thought from his face, and grins impishly at the other man.

“Weeell,” he drags out, still grinning, “since you’re asking so nicely, the Penns are having a match tomorrow, and I wouldn’t say no to having someone to scream at the TV with.”

For a split second Robby’s face does something interesting, a blink and you’ll miss it expression in his eyes, and a part of Jack’s brain sits up to pay attention. He doesn’t miss the way Robby’s eyes dart towards his hands, and Jack decides to take that as an invitation to place his hand on Robby’s shoulder, squeezing the meat underneath his palm. A small shiver works its way through Robby’s frame, and it nags at something in Jack’s brain, but before he can contemplate it Robby’s responding.

“How can I say no to an invitation like that?” He asks with a wry smile, but something in his eyes was subdued.

“Sweet! My place at 6 o'clock? I’ll even sweeten the deal by ordering chinese.” he squeezes Robby’s shoulder as he’s speaking, offhandedly noticing how his muscles were all tensed up and knotted. 

Robby hummed his agreement, and a warmth spread throughout Jack’s chest. He knew it was selfish of him, that Robby thought that every invite was simply a friendly courtesy. It had come up between him and his therapist several times, how Jack couldn’t just come out and say that he wanted more, that he wanted to wake up next to Robby for the rest of his life, that he wanted the domestic quarrels and relaxed nights in front of the TV. His therapist couldn’t see the problem, but Jack could. And he knew that if he tried putting words to what he was feeling, then Robby would either run for the hills, or maybe Robby's lost enough of his marbles to say yes and they would give it a shot before Jack screwed it up. 

He couldn’t risk that, risk their friendship and the knowledge that even on his worst nights, there was someone worth clinging onto life for. Because despite what his therapist said, Jack knew he would screw it up, he knew he had control issues the size of texas, that Robby would chafe under it - and despite the fact that they would be fucking amazing, it wouldn’t be worth it to loose him all together. 

Robby continued his charting in that meticulous way of his, the way that all the nurses praised to the high heavens - and maybe Jack should take his example, but charting had never been his thing, preferring doing instead. He could stand there for hours, the noise of the ER turning to white noise behind him, and just watch Robby’s fingers flying over the keyboard, pausing every once in a while to find the perfect word. But down that way lies heartache and frustration, so he forced himself to look up instead - look at the damn board that somehow looked fuller than it had when he’d left that morning.

“Dayshifts’ been taking it easy, I see.” Jack quipped, noticing how Robby turned towards him with one of his expressive eyebrows raised, “Couldn’t even make a dent in the board, huh?”

“What was that?” Robby asked.

“Just saying, that board has seriously shifted from bad to hellish since last I saw it.”

Robby hooted that soft laugh of his, shaking his head with eyes glinting with amusement. Before he could respond, a very frantic looking resident came rushing up to them. Her name was at the tip of his tongue, but the frazzled energy pouring out of the kid was distracting.

"Uhm, Dr. Robby," the kid started, wringing her hands together in front of her, "the mom of the kid with the ankle fracture wants to speak to you."

From the way her voice shook, Jack could imagine that said mom hadn't exactly asked to speak to Robby by name. He had always loved watching Robby with the kids - the man was a born teacher, even when they themselves had been residents still wet behind the ears. Still stuck on trying to remember the kid’s name, he didn’t catch Robby’s response, but he clued back in when the older man tipped his glasses down to look at her over them.

“Well, she didn’t technically ask for you, not that she wouldn’t be happy that you came,” whoever said mom was, Jack was starting to get the feeling that he had words for her, because the kid looked like someone had kicked her puppy and stolen her ice cream from her hand. “But she, uhm, she wanted a real doctor?”

Jack watched as Robby’s eyebrows found a resting place somewhere close to his hairline, and for a second he was almost sorry for the mom, but the hard glint in Robby’s eyes stopped him from speaking. 

“Dr.King, if you’ll follow me,” Robby’s voice was hard, and some part of Jack wanted to reassure the kid - Dr. King, he really should memorise the kids’ names - that he wasn’t mad at her , but from the way she was looking at Robby he figured he could save his breath.

The pair walked away together, and Jack watched how the kid seemed to hang on to every word Robby said, leaning towards him and nodding her head. Whatever he said must have worked though, as the kid managed to straighten her head before they walked into south 19. The interaction had distracted him momentarily, but the need to figure out what was bugging Robby came back with a vengeance, and Jack resolved himself to spending the night chewing on it while trying to clear up the board - because someone should care about that. 

-

He went through different possibilities as he worked. 

Whilst repositioning a posterior shoulder dislocation on a frat boy who, for some godforsaken reason, had decided to jump off the second story balcony into the above ground pool and missing it by a foot, he considers a head injury before dismissing it. If Robby had somehow managed to hit his head, Jack was sure he would have known. He considered a possible neurological influence, even going as far as a possible brain tumor - whilst checking the four quadrants of a young woman's abdomen, noting how she expressed pain in her LLQ - but dismissed it, in part because the idea was too painful to entertain. 

It wasn’t until the three AM lull, when Parker and Shen managed to solve the puzzle neither knew Jack was working on.

“I’m considering getting a cat,” Parker said, not looking up from the noodles she was devouring at the nurses station. “Can’t exactly get a dog when I work twelve hour shifts and don’t have the ability to walk it during my lunch hour, but a cat would work.” 

Seeing how Shen’s head twisted towards her with a horrified expression on his face, Jack started rubbing his forehead to try to get a head of the tension headache he knew was coming. 

“So you’re willing to leave a cat alone for twelve hours instead?” Shen asked, voice laced with false hurt. 

“I’m not,- that’s not-” Parker sputtered, “Cats are more independent than dogs, and they don’t require a bathroom outside , which is why a cat would be better suited than a dog.”

“That is such an outdated point of view though!” The glee in Shen’s eyes betrayed his indignant tone, “If that’s the logic you’re going with, you might as well just get a goldfish - that way you’ll even avoid having to clean up its poop.” 

“Don’t talk about poop in front of my noodles, man,” Parker said, taking a mouthful of said noodles to get the point across, “nd anyway, I can’t exactly hug a goldfish, can I?” The words were garbled, and the part of Jack that wasn’t exasperated over their antics worried about aspiration before she loudly swallowed. “Everyone needs someone to drape themselves on after a long shift.”

“ Drape themselves on ?” Shen’s voice had taken a horrified tone now, and Jack could almost taste the petty squabble that would ensue, “How the hell do you have the energy to drape yourself on anything other than your bed? And besides that point, what the fuck kind of cat are you looking to adopt that’ll survive you draping yourself on it ? A tiger?”

“Hey! Fuck you for calling me fat, man.” Despite the harsh tone, Parker’s face was filled with mischief as she pointed a finger in Shen’s direction, “And besides, everyone gets a bit lonely and touch starved every once in a while. Not everyone wants to fill the void by being a total slut during their downtime.”

Jack knew he should put a stop to the childlike squabbling, but his mind had gone blank with Parker’s words. Touch starved. It made too much sense - and he wanted to kick himself for not realizing it sooner, Robby had shown all the signs for weeks, if not months now. He was a serial monogamist, and he never made the effort to hide it when he got into a new relationship, but Jack couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen any signs of it. Not since it ended with Collins, and that was ages ago. It wasn’t as if they didn’t see evidence of male loneliness in the ED - young boys coming in scared out of their minds, kids taking all sorts of drugs just to get through the days, but Jack hadn’t considered that Robby might be dealing with the same shit. 

Something collided with the side of his head, dragging him away from his musings about Robby. He couldn’t stop the sigh from leaving his body, ignoring the quiet “oh shit” from Parker as he fixed his eyes on his most troublesome attending and resident. 

“If you’re bored,” he started, “then I’m sure I’ll be able to find something for you to do that doesn’t involve a potential head trauma to your senior attending.”

-

The shift had been good, they had managed to be what their patients needed during a sudden crisis; it had even been slow enough that they’d been able to stick around for a bit with those who needed it, even had the time to hold hands and talk. And while they had patients coming in for minor things that absolutely could wait until they could get an appointment with their GP, even that hadn’t been enough to disrupt the flow. 

But the thought of Robby being lonely, being starved for human touch, hadn’t left him all night.

He should be sleeping, because even if it had been a good shift, his back and hip was still sore from being on his prosthetic for too long. But he couldn’t stop the thoughts from racing. 

Robby was his best friend, his brother in arms, Robby was his . And Jack had seen that he’d been struggling, hell, he hadn’t been able to sleep right for a week after the last time he’d found Robby on the roof standing too close to the edge, because for a split second Jack hadn’t been sure if he’d step back or not. The only thing that had been able to calm him down all shift had been being able to poke his head through the door of the on-call room and just watch him, see with his own eyes that Robby was still there , still breathing. Turning over to his side, Jack reached for his phone. 8.04AM. Fuck it.

It only rang three times before a tired voice answered.

“Hello?” 

“Robby?”

Chapter Text

The conversation had been brief, both knowing the other well enough that words were hardly needed. In the end Jack hadn't even had to ask, to think of a way to form the sentences required. Or maybe Robby had simply heard the unspoken request. It didn't matter in the end, Jack figured, how it happened, it only mattered that he was standing by the stove flipping pancakes when he heard the key twisting in the door.

Soft footsteps announced Robby's entry, but Jack kept his focus on the pancake currently bubbling softly in the pan. “Gimme two minutes and breakfast will be ready,” he said, testing the readiness of the pancake by lifting the edge of it carefully.

“Anything I can do to help?” The confusion in Robby's voice was evident, and Jack couldn't help smiling softly when hearing it. Trust Robby to come into a situation with no forewarning on what was going on, but still ready to help, to give parts of himself. Robby had probably expected to do some kind of mental health first aid, and part of Jack savored being able to give him a, hopefully good, surprise.

“Nah, man, I got it. Just sit down and relax.” Jack said, flipping the pancake and grinning to himself when it landed perfectly in the pan, the cooked side just a shade darker than it should have been. 

He could hear Robby shuffling in the background, and it didn’t take long before the telltale sound of a chair being dragged out from underneath the table came. Jack merely hummed to himself, focusing on the pancakes. He hadn’t learned cooking by his momma’s side, hell he wasn’t even sure Miss Arlene Abbot was able to bring water to a boil, instead he’d scraped by with picking up some small tricks here and there. He was far from a Michelin chef, but he knew how to make the basics so he wouldn’t starve. But he didn’t want this to be good enough, just another quick meal he’d shrug his shoulders at and call it a day, he wanted this to be better . He wanted Robby to take one bite of these pancakes and enjoy them, not just smiling in that half strained way of his whenever he normally tasted Jack’s culinary experiments. He wanted to give Robby something good - not just with the pancakes, though they were part of Jack’s halfway thought out plan of caring for him, but with everything.

Last pancake finally done - and this one had come out with a perfectly golden color, despite him losing his concentration amidst musings on Robby - Jack finally made his way towards the table. The view that met him told him just about everything he needed to know; Robby was slouched in his chair, chin resting on his fist, eyes halfway closed. He wasn’t wearing his ordinary hoodie, but a soft worn woolen sweater that Jack would bet his life savings on was both old enough to vote and hand made. It made him look soft, and Jack’s hands itched to touch him; to soothe down his hair, because Robby had never been able to stop running his hands through it, making it stand up, it made him want to scratch his fingers through his beard. 

“You just gonna stand there holding those pancakes hostage, or what?” Robby asked, dragging Jack out of his wanderings.

“Just admiring my hard work.” Jack replied, setting the platter down in front of the other man quickly.

Robby simply huffed at him, and Jack would have been insulted if it wasn’t for the way his eyes lit up when they finally landed on the pancakes before he started loading up his plate. They ate in silence, only broken by soft requests to pass the syrup, and Jack could feel a tension between his shoulders that he hadn’t realized was there easing. It hadn’t always been this easy between them; in the beginning they would have been more likely to stab each other with their forks than enjoy a simple meal together, but somehow they’d gotten there in the end.

When they were both finished eating, Robby waved Jack’s attempts at taking the plates away.

“You cooked, I’ll clean.” Robby said, carrying the plates to the sink.

And maybe it was the way Robby was going through his apartment like he lived there that did it; the way he didn’t have to ask where Jack kept the spare sponges because he’d forgotten to replace the last one, because he knew where to find them; the way he stood there in sweats and a soft hand knitted sweater at 9AM on his day off washing Jack’s dishes because apparently they had a routine for that, that made a lump form in the back of Jack’s throat. The possibility that he might walk into work one day to be greeted by Robby wearing that half shy smile he always did when he got into a new relationship, that someone else would come along and maybe they wouldn’t appreciate their partner standing in someone else’s kitchen being this familiar made his teeth ache. 

He had known for a while that he was in love with Robby - hell, he was pretty sure he’d financed a very nice vacation home for his therapist when they had worked through that particular issue - but for some reason it hadn’t struck him until then. Up to that point it had been the same love that you have for an artist or a painting; real in every sense of the world, but unattainable and thus easily ignored. But watching Robby slowly and meticulously wash their plates made it feel real, like he suddenly had it within his reach. There were reasons why he shouldn’t think about this, why he contained these fantasies to the darkness of his bedroom when the blackout curtains were drawn, and Jack was sure that he’d remember those reasons after he slept. But Robby was there now , and Jack had been up for the past 19 hours, and none of the reasons came to mind. 

“Jack?” From the way his voice sounded, Robby had been trying to get his attention for a while now. Jack hadn’t even realized that he’d moved away from the kitchen counters, unprepared to see the full soft effect of Robby standing just an arms reach away. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, and he kicked at Jack’s calf halfheartedly. “Earth to Jack?”

“Yeah, sorry, just got lost in my head for a bit.” Jack said, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“That’ll happen when you don’t sleep after your shift, you know,” Robby said, looking at him critically. “Not that I don’t appreciate an impromptu breakfast invitation, but you look like you’re about two seconds from passing out.”

“As if you don’t?” Jack shot back as he stood, waving his hand in emphasis. 

“I’m not the one coming off a twelve hour night shift,” Robby started.

“But have you slept after your twelve hour day shift?” Jack interrupted, and the way Robby’s mouth opened and closed as he couldn’t contradict him without telling on himself was a memory he would cherish for years.

The joy of the verbal victory only lasted long enough for Jack to notice how close they were standing, and he didn’t know which one of them had moved closer, but there was barely a hand's width between their chests. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said that Robby looked tired; the lines in his face was more pronounced, his shoulders drooping. 

“Come on,” Jack said, grabbing a hold of Robby’s wrist as he turned to walk towards the bedroom. “Nap time.”

Maybe it was a testament to how tired Robby really was, or maybe Jack had gotten it all wrong and he really did have a head injury, but he didn’t protest, simply followed Jack in silence. It wasn’t until Jack was already sitting on his bed, removing his prosthetic and the lining, that he spoke.

“What are you doing?” The question was barely above a whisper, but Jack had long since attuned himself to everything Robby; it was a damn miracle that he didn’t hear the mans heartbeat every time he walked into a room.

“I’m getting ready to take a nap,” Jack answered, willfully ignoring the way Robby stood in front of him, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “and you’re taking it with me.”

It wasn’t until he was shifting out of his sweats that Robby seemed to react, toeing off his socks, his hands going to the hem of his sweater before he stopped. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s a thousand degrees in here, so I’m thinking boxers and tee-shirt, but however you’re comfortable, man.” Jack said carefully.

Robby, the man who everyone looked to to be in charge, to know the answer to every question, gave the same impression as a wild animal. Like he would spook if Jack looked at him directly. Jack knew he shouldn’t push; if this really was some sort of mental break, it could do more harm than good, but he was too tired to care. This wasn’t the longest he’d been without sleep, but there was a weariness dragging at his bones; and maybe he would have thought of a better way to address it all if he’d actually slept, but this felt right. Like Robby was meant to be here, in his bedroom after eating food that Jack had prepared, because they were both tired and maybe holding on to each other wouldn’t fix the world, but it was a start.

It wasn’t until Jack had shed his sweats and scooted back in the bed that Robby started undressing, and despite how much he wanted to watch, Jack laid back and stared at the ceiling. The bed dipped when he finally laid down, and Jack felt how Robby shivered when their arms touched. He could already feel sleep dragging him down, his body feeling like lead.

“Jack?”

“Shh, naptime, Michael.” 

Despite what Jack had implied, Robby had actually slept after his shift. He’d gone home, watched some crappy reality TV while eating leftover thai, before heading to bed. It hadn’t taken long before the nightmares began, though, as they always did. The sound of ventilator alarms, of people he hadn’t been able to help, hadn’t been able to save, the sound of their voices as they screamed and cried out in pain and confusion. They all appeared in his dreams; Billy Thompson, the five year old boy that had played with his dads gun, who stood there in his dreams, asking Robby why he couldn’t save him because he had to apologize to his dad for playing in his office; Ava Brown, a twenty year old girl who came in with what had seemed like an acute abdomen, who had died two minutes before the midnight on her birthday of an underlying heart condition; Dr.Adamson, who came into his dreams with the disappointed frown that had always cut into Robby whenever he’d screwed up, who was asking who gave Robby the right to be his executioner. 

Lying in Jack’s bed, listening to the other man breathe softly beside him, he wondered if the monster in his chest would turn this into a nightmare too. He could feel every inch where their bodies connected, how their shoulders were brushing together, Jack’s knuckles resting against his wrist, and part of him wanted to stay completely still so that he wouldn’t disrupt the connection while another wanted to get up and run; a sliver of self preservation instinct that knew that this couldn’t end well. Robby hadn’t realized how cold he was, until Jack’s heat seeped deep into his bones. He tried fighting his drowsiness, turning his face towards Jack as if that would somehow make it better - because Jack was never still, always moving, speaking, and maybe Robby could borrow some of that energy, store it in his chest to keep the nightmares from dragging him into sleep. Jack didn’t look younger in his sleep - despite what the romance books Dana had forced him to read; because apparently everyone would somehow lose decades as soon as their conscious mind was at rest - but he looked softer. His face was turned towards Robby, the pillow partly disrupting Robby’s view of his face, his mouth slightly open. 

He wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting when Jack called; maybe sharing a cup of terrible coffee while they talked about everything that didn’t matter, or maybe that Jack had somehow managed to lose his key, or hell, even that the man had somehow gotten hurt. The only possibility that Robby was absolutely sure he’d never considered was one where they’d end up in Jack’s bed. It wasn’t as if he’d never considered it, he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he, amongst pretty much the entire ED staff, had taken one look at fresh out of the army Jack Abbot and considered taking him to bed at least once, but he’d never actually imagined that it could come true. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever imagined Jack to be this warm.

He didn’t realize he’d made a sound until Jack’s brows furrowed, the action a split second warning before his body twisted, and suddenly Jack’s warm body was half draped over Robby’s; chest to chest, his nose pushed underneath Robby’s chin, leg thrown over his hips. It felt safe , like he was ten years again sitting in his babulya’s living room, snuggled into her side as she told him stories of the old country while thunder sounded outside, shaking the apartment like his fathers angry words. Like Jack was shielding him from the monster lurking beneath his sternum the same way she used to shield him from the monster wearing his fathers face. He closed his eyes and focused on the warmth radiating off Jack’s body, on the way his breath came in slow drafts that tickled Robby’s neck, on how the weight of him seemed to anchor him to the bed.

-

The sudden sound of thunder woke him with a start, and for a moment he was back in his childhood home; hiding under his bed because his dad had come home angry, reeking of beer and resentment, throwing curses and pointed accusations like stones. But when he opened his eyes he didn’t see the worn bed slats he was expecting, but a white ceiling streaked with a sliver of sunshine, and it took him a second to reorient himself to the waking world. For the first time in months, years , he hadn’t woken up from a nightmare, didn’t wake up feeling like there was ice in his veins. 

“Fucking constructionworkers,” Jack mumbled, burrowing his face deeper into the pit of Robby’s clavicle with a soft groan, “Should be illegal to make that kind of racket at this hour.”

“Pretty sure the rest of the world isn’t gonna adjust to working nights just because you prefer it,” Robby responded. He wanted to reach for his phone, check the time to strengthen his argument, but at the same time part of him was convinced that if he moved, Jack would realise how close they were. How his body heat had penetrated so deeply into Robby’s skin that he didn’t know how to exist without it, didn’t know how he’d survived before. 

Jack’s only response was a second groan, this one somehow more dramatic than the last, as if the thought itself was too insulting to dignify with a response. Robby couldn’t help the soft smile that broke through, and he was so grateful that Jack couldn’t see it. His body was aching; left arm numb from having Jack’s body weighing it down for hours, the small of his back sore from lying down for too long, his bladder sending an increasing amount of distress signals, all of it urging him to move , to get up and go about his day. But the thought of shrugging Jack off him felt similar to kicking a puppy; akin to a mortal sin.

In the end, Jack made the decision for him, rolling onto his back and taking all his body heat with him.

“Jesus,” Jack whined, rubbing his hands harshly over his face, “I feel like we’ve only been out for a minute.”

Robby didn’t answer, couldn’t, because his body felt like it had gone from a hot summer day and straight into an ice cold shower. His body's complaints about sleeping inn now in the furthest part of his mind, because he had slept in Jack’s bed, he had slept in Jack’s bed with Jack, he now had the knowledge of how Jack’s body felt next to, on top of, his, the knowledge that Jack did have the ability to be still, because he was a quiet sleeper-.

“Okay, so whatever is going through your head, please stop it,” Jack said, and Robby became aware of how he had the other mans undivided focus trained on his face. 

“I was just thinking about how capitalism is the reason that American English dropped letters like ‘u’ in color, but sure,” Robby deflected, sitting up quickly. He couldn’t keep lying there, with his body cooling by the second, thoughts racing about what Jack’s breath felt like against his throat. “But you’re right,” he tossed over his shoulder as he got up, “thinking about capitalism in America never does anyone anything good.”

Walking out of the bedroom, Robby couldn’t help but rub his sternum where the monster was lying underneath the bone, whispering about how he was a coward. He was almost at the bathroom door before he heard Jack’s voice calling out after him.

“Actually the dropping of letters was because of the influence of Noah Webster!”

Chapter Text

They didn’t talk about it, not a word said about how Robby now knew what Jack looked like up close in his sleep, or that he knew what it felt like for his body to be weighed down by Jacks. Robby couldn’t figure out if he was happy about it or not; it wasn’t as if he wanted to talk about the cold that had seeped into his veins, or how lying there with Jack had been the first time in months where the monster in his chest had been silent. But he knew that Jack had questions, could see it in the curve of his mouth and how he kept watching Robby instead of the TV. 

The hours passed in a strange sense of domesticality; both of them moving around the other with a familiarity bred from years working together, anticipating the other's move before they made it, comfortable silences broken by bickering and jokes. Robby had descended on Jack’s kitchen like a man on a mission, only to be forced to put in a quick grocery order with doordash. His grumblings about barren cupboards had resulted in a lengthy lecture about how Betty Crocker had managed to write an entire book about four ingredients dinners, and Robby had chosen not to comment on it. It felt peaceful in a way that Robby couldn’t describe, spending time with Jack without having to worry about patients, residents and students, or Gloria nagging about patient satisfaction scores. By the time Robby got the notification that the groceries had been delivered, he’d almost convinced himself that this was something he could have, that maybe Jack could feel it too, this aching love that threatened to consume him. 

He tried drowning the thoughts by focusing on the food; putting the groceries he didn’t need away, keeping only the essentials on the counter. His hands worked on autopilot; chopping vegetables, preheating the pan, cleaning as he went. Jack - who was, by his own admission, not the best of cooks - fluttered in and out of Robby's zone, stealing little pieces of food despite Robby's mutterings about having enough for their soup. 

It wouldn’t last forever - this peaceful bubble that they were in, Robby knew that. The monster in his chest was already clawing, leaving red and angry welts where it’s claws dragged against his sternum, but he couldn’t help but cling on to the moment. Eventually they would have to talk about it, about how Robby’s defences had come crashing down just long enough for Jack to see, and then it would be over. Jack had never been one to let things lie, not for all the years they’d known each other, and Robby could picture his kind face as he let him down slowly. Could almost taste the pain of them going back to impersonal handovers, neither lingering beyond what they had to, no unnecessary touches. Eventually Jack would find someone, someone who wasn’t broken and cursed with a monster raging inside of them, and Robby wouldn’t have any choice but being happy for him - because Jack deserved that, deserved the happy ending he had been promised when he’d married his wife, before war and destruction had stolen his leg, before a drunk driver had stolen his wife. It would kill another part of him, but he would do it, he’d be happy for him. 

By the time the soup was simmering on the stove, Robby had already drafted and discarded about a hundred different ways for their conversation to go. Mentally preparing himself for the worst, for Jack to listen to him opening his heart only to find some excuse to cut their night short. Jack wasn't the kind of man to throw him out outright, to throw his feelings back in his face, despite what the monster inside of Robby tried to convince him of. 

He sat down on the chair opposite of Jack, running his hands over the smooth surface of the kitchen table. Jack's eyes darted up to him for a second, before his phone stole his attention once more. He looked so relaxed, leaning back in his chair. At some point during the day he’d gotten dressed in a pair of soft looking shorts and a t-shirt, and Robby knew it was a testament to their friendship that Jack hadn’t put on his prosthetic, but the knowledge that he was allowed to witness Jack like this was enough for his head to spin. That he was allowed to witness Jack relaxing, not worrying about where the next threat would come from, when there would be a new patient needing his attention within a split second, just relaxed, sitting by his kitchen table screwing around on his phone. 

“Oh for fucks sake,” Jack said, breaking the silence that had wrapped around them.

“What?” Robby asked.

Jack looked up from his phone with a pained expression on his face. “I just got a text from Shen,” Jack started, “And I can’t for the life of me figure out what I’ve done to deserve this, but if I have to suffer, then so do you.”

“One, no I don’t, and two, would you like the list of your past transgressions in an alphabetical or chronological order?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Jack quipped, “What do you call a fish without an I? A fsh.”

It really wasn’t funny, Robby thought, but he couldn’t stop the laughter from rushing out.

-

Jack knew that Robby was expecting questions, or hell, even a tiny conversation. He might have been an impenetrable wall when meeting patients, and even with some of their coworkers, but Jack had known him for well over a decade, and he’d managed to climb over that damn wall long ago. And the truth of the matter was that he did have questions, and they did need to have a conversation, but as far as Jack was concerned, the fact that they’d taken a nap together wasn’t part of it. But while he’d left the army one foot short, he’d gotten enough instincts out of it that he could almost convince himself some days that it was a halfway fair trade. And all of his instincts were screaming at him that pushing Robby now, would only serve to push him away. So he decided to ignore Robby’s nervous twitching, keeping their conversations light instead. 

He didn’t make a point out of touching Robby more than he’d normally do, there was no conscious thought about it going through his mind, but despite that he still found himself pressed close when they were sitting on the couch, found excuses to veer into Robby’s space as he stood by the stove muttering about Jack’s bare cupboards - which was completely false, just because he didn’t see the need to always be prepared to feed a family of ten, it didn’t mean that his cupboards were bare - and revolving around Robby without conscious thought. With every touch, Robby seemed to relax a bit more, the lines in his face softening, his shoulders dropping. Jack had often heard derogatory mutterings about doctors believing they were gods, but he’d never felt like a god before, not until he realized the effect he seemed to have on Robby. 

Eventually the peace had to break, because Jack had left all of his luck in the desert sand next to his leg.

It didn’t take more than a quick text to the attendings group chat, an s.o.s from Tina, the no nonsense dayshift attending who Jack wasn’t ashamed to admit kinda scared him, informing them that she’d taken ill and needed someone to come in and relieve her. He didn’t need to look up from his phone to know that Robby was going to volunteer, and he could feel himself deflate slightly at the thought. 

“So, are we doing it?” Robby asked.

Jack could practically taste the whiplash as he turned to look at Robby’s face. 

“What-” He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say first; he wanted to remind Robby that it was their day off, that they’d barely slept, that Tina had asked for one someone. 

“I know we’ll miss the game, but we did schedule a hangout today,” Robby said, “and besides, it’ll only be for a couple of hours anyway.”

Jack Abbot was an idiot. He’d been fooled by a pair of big brown eyes, following blindly, and he swore it would be the last time. Of course, he did love his job, he loved the fast pace, the procedures, holding someone's life in your hand and giving it back to them, facing death and running it off. But he did not, in fact, love the part of his job where he was stuck with a patient who - and he was trying really hard not to be judgemental - did not need to be in the ED. The fact that this particular patient's daughter was a nursing student didn’t make it any better.

“Ma’am, I can absolutely guarantee you that you don’t need to be admitted,” Jack said, beyond caring about how clipped the words came out. “You have the flu, you need rest and hydration, both of which you can get at home.”

“But the flu can aggravate chronic obstructive pulmonary-” the daughter started.

“Which your mother, by her own admission and by her medical records, does not have .”

The kid’s face turned red, and Jack knew that she was simply worried about her mom, knew that when you first started learning about diseases you’d find them wherever you looked regardless if they were actually present or not, but that knowledge didn’t stop him from wanting to shake her.

“You know what,” he said, watching as the kid appeared to gear up for the fifteenth time, “I’m actually gonna get my colleague to take a second look at your moms case. Make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

He stepped out of the room before either of them could respond, barely sparing a second glance at the patient who was currently sitting on the bed playing candy crush. He didn’t stop to check in with the nurses, eyes scanning the ED in search of the owner of the deceiving brown eyes that had tricked him into this situation in the first place instead. It didn’t take long to find him, and normally Jack would feel bad for dragging him away from what appeared to be a teaching moment with dr.King, but considering that he could still hear the daughter screeching about one thing or another he couldn’t summon the feeling. 

“Dr.Robinavitch, if you have a moment for a consult, please.” 

Robby turned towards him, eyebrows resting close to his hairline at Jack’s tone, and normally Jack would have found that amusing - and he probably would, when he’d gotten a bit more distance from the screeching daughter - but he merely raised an answering eyebrow back at him.

“Everything okay, Jack?” Robby asked.

“Everything is just dandy , but I need you to take over my patient. And her lovely daughter.”

“Ookay?”

“Fifty-five year old female, coming in with a three day complaint of a stuffy nose, sneezing and an unproductive cough. Vitals are all within a normal range, no complaints of fever, no pain. Bloodwork shows stable leukocytes on 7, CRP at 4, lungs sound clear.” 

“That just sounds like the flu?” Robby said, looking at him like he’d grown a second head. “You want me to consult on a patient presenting with the flu?”

The smile Jack sent his way was all teeth, and a small - okay, maybe not too small - part of him wanted to point out that he wouldn’t have had to consult about any patients if Robby hadn’t volunteered them to cover Tina’s shift whilst Jack had been too distracted by pretty brown eyes.

“Did I forget to mention that the patient's daughter is a nursing student, and is therefore concerned that her mom has everything from COPD to the bubonic plague?” 

“The probability of the bubonic plague is extremely low,” Dr.King said.

Jack almost jumped out of his skin, having forgotten that the R1 was even there. “It is, but if the daughter could be managed with logic neither of them would be in the ED at the moment.”

He could see the exact moment where Robby caved, his shoulders drooping slightly as he rubbed a weary hand over his face. Jack simply told him which room Robby would find the patient in with a false cheer to his voice.

“I thought the two of you were friends?” Dr.King said, looking between Robby’s retreating back and Jack’s face with clear confusion. 

“We are,” Jack said, “but we should have been watching a terrible game with cheap beer and good pizza, so he’ll just have to suck it up.”

He could tell that the explanation wasn’t to her satisfaction, but he didn’t imagine he’d ever be able to satisfy any of the dayshift kids while trying to explain that Robby sometimes just needed to experience the same amount of professional frustration that everyone else had to. Jack was fully aware that the kids all looked up to Robby - hell, he couldn’t remember even one student or resident that had come through the years who hadn’t - but after PittFest, this year's batch seemed to have gone beyond the regular hero worship and straight into an overprotective mode. 

“Well, would you be able to consult on my patient then, since dr.Robby had to take over yours?” Dr.King asked.

“Sure,” Jack said, “everything to get out of dealing with that whole situation.” He wiggled his fingers towards south five where Robby had entered the dragon's den as he spoke. “What’cha got?”

“Eighteen year old male presenting with severe abdominal cramps, touch and rebound sensitivity in the LLQ, no change in diet, no history of constipation or diarrhea. Abdominal x-ray is done, but not described yet, and he’s waiting for an abdominal CT.”

The case wasn’t challenging per say, and Jack even got the extreme pleasure of witnessing the exchange between a horrified Dr.Withaker and Dr.King - who left Jack wondering if anything could shock her - when the x-rays came back showing what appeared to be a canister of shaving creme lodged in the kids rectum. It didn’t make up for him being at work on his day of, but he was left with a greater understanding over how Robby managed to deal with the students and residents day in and day out, their lack of experience giving way to the opportunity to witness them realize the many ways someone could accidentally fall on a various amount of objects whilst in the nude. 

-

By the time 6pm rolled around, things seemed to have settled slightly. They had even managed to free up three beds, as it seemed like being met with two senior attendings on the phone was what was required for the ICU to get their thumbs out of their asses.

His time in the army, and the subsequent time as an emergency physician, had taught Jack to never let a quiet moment go to waste. He’d given up on trying to corral Robby into the staff lounge with him to eat something with more nutritional value than a slightly crumpled protein bar, though the silence of the surprisingly empty room was a good consolation prize. Someone had managed to brew a pot of coffee just to his preference; strong enough for a bullet to stay upright in it, and slightly burned, and the first sip of his cup had him reaching for his phone to try to figure out the best way to order a new coffeemaker. He was in the middle of placing an order when Withaker came rushing through the door, looking for all intents and purposes as if he was being chased by an angry mob.

“GSW to the face, five minutes out,” Withaker gasped.

“Alright,” Jack answered, “that should leave you with four minutes to get your breathing under control.”

The kid made a show of taking a slow breath, “Dr.Robby wanted me to come get you,” he said, sounding at least slightly more normal. 

Jack could see why Robby would feel the need to take the kid under his wings; he practically screamed innocent and in dire need of rescue, hunching in on himself as to make himself invisible. It reminded him too much of a younger Robby, before he'd managed to build the persona of Dr.Robinavitch, leaving Jack wondering what shield Withaker would build - and how much of it would be under Robby's influence. He chugged the last dregs of his coffee, savoring the bitter taste on his tongue as he made his way back into the somewhat controlled chaos that was the ED, Withaker hot on his heels. 

-

“Twenty-two year old male, GSW to the face, through and through, with an entry at the left mandibular region and exit wound through the right zygomatic region. Compromised airway and visible bleeding from the mouth with apparent jaw instability, shallow respirations with decreased air movement and labored effort. Pulse is weak and thready, hypotensive with a BP of 82/54 on the last measurement. GCS 6, unresponsive to verbal stimuli, withdraws to painful stimuli. Two 16G access points in v.brachialis bilaterally secured on route, 10mg of morphine i.v. and 24mg of ketamine i.v. administered on route.”  

Jack let the rapport wash over him, falling into a steady rhythm with Robby by his side. In moments like these his mind went completely silent except for the facts of the body before him, muscle memory taking over his body. It was like a dance that they all knew the steps to, first the transfer from the gurney to the bed, head counting as they all lifted and pushed. Dr.King standing by Robby’s side a moment later, securing a suction and working on intubating. Princess and Perlah cutting clothes, baring the body in preparation for a second assessment. Jack giving out orders, for blood, for fluids, for analgesics. As soon as the airway is secured, they roll the patient, checking his back, his spine. 

“BP’s 61/48, pulse 122,” Princess’ voice called out.

They continue the dance, Jack doing a FAST assessment - no fluids in the abdomen, no tears or bleeds - and they all know the steps. In the back of his mind, he knew that the kid didn’t stand a chance, that he’d bled too much, done too much damage, but Jack’s body still moved, continued working on him because the grim reaper wasn’t welcome in his ED. Standing by the right side of the kids head, shoulders brushing against Robby’s, he kept pressure on the wound. When the kid's heart stopped, Withaker was there, pushing on his chest with choreographed movements, before Jack even had a chance to look up.

They worked on the kid longer than they should; longer than what protocol told them, and Jack knew that the only reason Robby didn’t call it was because of him. Because he couldn’t stop, couldn’t force his body into stillness until the dance was over. He knew, in some far away part of his mind, that this was Robby giving him the same courtesy as he’d give the kids, that he thought he saw something inside of Jack that told him that he needed this. 

In the end, Jack called it, the words like ashes in his mouth. He didn’t know what it was about the kid that hit him - could be the way the injury was almost guaranteed to be self-inflicted, the same way he’d lost too many of his brothers. They all took a moment of silence, standing there drenched in blood, sweat and in Withaker’s case, tears. It felt like someone had cut all the strings that kept his body moving, like his head was filled with a dense fog that kept everything away, but he knew that the work had barely started; they had to notify the next of kin, the body had to be transported to the morgue, documentation had to be written. 

“Take five,” Robby’s voice cut through the sheer exhaustion clouding his mind.

“Nah, I’m good,” Jack replied, “Just gotta get this settled then we can finally get out of here.”

He could feel Robby's eyes on him, following him as he left the trauma room. 

Princess’ met him at the door, informing him that the patient’s mother was in the family room waiting, waiting to hear what had happened with her son, with Lucas. That the mom’s name was Maggie. It took Jack a second too long to realise that the patient, the kid , had a name and a mother who was currently praying that her son was okay, and the information penetrated the fog in his head like a stroke of lightning. 

Despite what most people assumed, the worst part of losing someone wasn't the fact that despite your best effort, it still wasn't enough. That no matter how quickly you worked, how efficient your team was, you still weren't quick enough , efficient enough , and the consequence was someone losing their life. The worst part was what came after; the quietness of the room, machines turned off, the conversations that awaited. It was trying to figure out what words to stack together to inform someone that their loved one had died - whether the notification happened in a letter that would be shipped of, desert sand still clinging to the edges of the glue; over the phone, whilst praying to whatever you believed in that the line would hold, that your voice would come through clear; or in person, watching the hope crumbling in someone’s eyes. 

It barely took him seconds to walk to the family room, to lift his fist and knock on the door. The mom - Maggie - stood from her chair when he entered. She smiled slightly, as she greeted him, and Jack held back a flinch at the hope in her eyes.

One of his first mentors during his emergency residency had always preached how you should let someone know their loved one had passed, had practically fused the information into Jack’s brainstem; that you should never let your emotions rule; that you needed to say that the patient was dead , because that’s what they needed to hear; that you should offer comfort but never impose it; always, always, remember that no matter how much it hurt being the one to say it, it would never hurt as much as it did to hear it. 

Listening to the primal scream that left Maggie when he told her that her son, her baby boy, had died, Jack wondered if his mentor had ever had to listen to a mother screaming for her child. He couldn’t imagine that anything could hurt this much.

-

Robby found him, after. Guided him through the locker, away from the wellmeaning glances of their colleagues, and dropped him in the car before going back to do handover with Shen. He didn’t said anything when he came back, as if he knew that Jack was tethering the line. Jack didn’t even realise they’d made it back to his place until Robby was standing by the open passenger door, softly calling his name. His body moved on autopilot, one foot in front of the other. By the time they’d made it into Jack’s apartment, shoes removed by the door, the fog inside of Jack’s head started shifting. 

They moved around each other silently, Robby taking the first turn in the bathroom, Jack making sure the door and windows were locked on autopilot. When Robby finished, they simply traded places, and the familiarity of it was almost too much on Jack’s senses. 

It never got any better, didn’t matter how many times he lost someone, every time felt like the first. He’d talked to Thomas about it - well, Thomas had brought the subject up after Jack had come to his session straight from the hospital where he’d spent two hours coding a nineteen year old boy who had managed to get his feet back on US soil after his first deployment, only to find himself unable to live with what had happened back in the desert. The kid hadn't been Jack's first loss; hell, there had been too many of his brothers in arms that for whom their last view had been Jack's determined face framed by the scorching desert sun, but that had been war in enemy territory. And without conscious effort he'd somehow managed to fool himself that the cold fingers of death couldn't reach him here, because he'd left the war behind, and the young were never meant to die outside of it. In the end Jack had showed up in Thomas’ clean office, still feeling the kids blood underneath his fingernails, the way his sternum and ribs had cracked under the heart compressions, and Thomas had told him that the day he didn’t feel like it was the first time, that was the day he’d know for sure to retire, that this pain was a reminder that Jack still had his humanity with him. He tried to focus on that thought. That this was all part of humanity, the pain and grief, the way his hands were shaking.

He didn’t hear the door open until a strong pair of hands enclosed his, and for some reason that was the drop that made the pain overflow. Robby’s face was blurry through his tears, but Jack could still make out the sad smile on the other mans face. 

“It’s not fair,” Jack whispered.

“I know,” Robby answered.

Robby shifted so that his arm went across Jack’s back, turning him. They made slow progress out of the bathroom and into Jack’s bedroom, Robby’s arm a strong and warm presence, and part of Jack thought he should be ashamed of this, of needing Robby to help him. Should be ashamed that Robby untied his scrubs, pushing them down his thighs without comment, pushing him to sit on the bed. When he didn’t protest at the unspoken question as Robby’s fingers graced his prosthetic, nimble fingers unfastened it for him, and it had been years since Jack had been taken care of like this. He knew he should brush Robby off, take care of himself like the grown adult he was, that Robby was the one who needed someone to care for him, but the words lodged themselves in his throat. By the time he was sitting there in his boxers, he was too tired to feel ashamed anyway. He watched as Robby turned his attention to himself, quickly throwing off his hoodie and scrubs, before he climbed into the bed and turned towards Jack. 

Getting under the duvet seemed to take all the energy out of him, and Jack couldn’t stop the groan that escaped him as his body settled on the mattress. He could feel Robby’s eyes on him, and before he could overthink it, he rolled over so his body draped itself over Robby’s. It felt right, as if they were made exactly to fit like this, his leg thrown over Robby’s thigh, his stomach curved into the dip of Robby’s waist, his head on Robby’s shoulders. He could feel Robby’s sharp inhale, the way his body seemed to tense up for a second before relaxing even deeper into the bed, and for a moment he wondered if he’d overstepped, until soft fingers started caressing his curls. He couldn’t help the pleased sound, pushing his head further back into the sensation, and when he opened his eyes he could see that Robby was watching him with a strange look on his face.

Before he had a chance to open his mouth to ask, Robby shifted, and in the next second soft lips were pushing against his, Robby’s beard tickling his chin. As sudden as the kiss had started, it ended, Robby drawing back with a look of horror on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Jack could see the way the blood drained from his face even in the darkness of the room, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jack replied.