Chapter Text
The Pitt was humming with its usual brand of chaos. Nurses darted between bays, doctors barked orders, and the smell of antiseptic clung stubbornly to everything. Jack Abbot had survived firefights, ambushes, and more 2 a.m. caffeine binges than he could countbut somehow, an ER at peak madness still made his blood pressure spike.
“Bay Three needs a doctor now!” someone called.
“I am a doctor,” Jack muttered under his breath as he limped toward the noise, chart tucked under one arm.
The limp was worse tonight. He’d noticed it earlier—his prosthetic leg had been giving off little warning signs all shift, a squeak here, a slip there, a faint grinding sound when he turned wrong. He’d been ignoring it, because that’s what you did when the work never stopped. You didn’t sit down. You didn’t breathe. You sure as hell didn’t let on to anyone else.
Then, halfway across the ER, the worst happened.
There was a loud snap, followed by a strange looseness where there absolutely should not have been looseness. Jack pitched forward, grabbing onto a rolling supply cart for balance.
“Son of a—”
“Jack?”
Of course Robby was the one to notice. The man had hawk eyes, especially when it came to him. Robby swooped in, curls bouncing, stethoscope still looped around his neck like he hadn’t noticed it was half strangling him.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Robby’s hands were already on his arm, checking him over like Jack had been shot.
Jack gritted his teeth, his pride warring with practicality. “It’s nothing. Just—”
The prosthetic gave another ominous creak. Jack sighed, muttering darkly, “Not again.”
Dana Evens appeared out of nowhere, like the mom-friend ninja she was. She folded her arms, giving him that lookthe one that had made seasoned surgeons scatter. “Don’t you ‘not again’ me, Abbot. Sit your ass down before you faceplant.”
“I’m fine,” Jack tried.
Dana’s eyebrow arched. “You wanna test that theory in front of half the ER? Because you’re listing like a drunk sailor.”
Jack opened his mouth, thought better of it, and let her steer him toward an empty bay. Robby was still hovering, his anxiety dialed up to eleven.
Dana sat him on the gurney with a firm push to the shoulder. “Stay.”
Jack huffed. “I’m not a dog, Dana.”
“You’re acting like one. Sit.”
Jack obeyed, muttering, “You’re bossier than any CO I ever had.”
“Damn right,” Dana said, fetching gloves and gauze just in case. “Now let’s see what we’re working with.”
Robby crouched immediately, tugging Jack’s pant leg up with a kind of frantic gentleness. The prosthetic joint was cracked where the socket met the pylon, the metal bent just slightly. Robby’s face twisted with worry.
“This isn’t safe. You could’ve fallen, you could’ve—”
Jack tilted his head, smirking despite himself. “You worried about me, doc?”
Robby looked up sharply, his curls falling into his eyes. “Of course I’m worried! You can’t just—Jack, you can’t walk around on this, it could give out completely!”
Dana sighed and handed Robby a small toolkit from the supply closet. “Here. You’re the only one in this hospital who knows how to tinker with it without making it worse. Fix him before he kills himself with stubbornness.”
Robby immediately got to work, muttering under his breath about stress fractures and socket fittings. His hands were steady, but his jaw was tight.
Jack leaned back on his elbows, watching him with a lazy grin. “You know, you’re kinda cute when you’re in mechanic mode.”
Robby froze, blinking up at him. “Jack—”
“I mean it,” Jack went on, voice low and teasing. “You’ve got this whole mad scientist meets angel of mercy vibe. Gets me every time.”
Dana snorted. “Oh lord. He’s flirting again.”
Robby flushed, ducking his head as he focused harder on the prosthetic. “Stop distracting me.”
“Not my fault you’re distractible,” Jack shot back, his grin widening. “Besides, I like watching you take care of me.”
Robby’s hands stilled for a second. He glanced up, eyes softening despite his exasperation. “…You’re impossible.”
“And you love it,” Jack said smoothly.
Dana clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder before Robby could combust. “For god’s sake, Jack, let the poor boy finish before you sweet-talk him into bolting the thing backward.”
“I wouldn’t,” Robby protested, cheeks burning.
Jack chuckled, dropping his voice so only Robby could hear. “I trust you. Always have, always will.”
Something in Robby’s expression softened then, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. He adjusted the joint, tightened a few screws, and finally gave the prosthetic a solid knock. “Try it now. Carefully.”
Jack swung his leg off the gurney, testing the weight. The joint held. No creak, no snap. He stood slowly, leaning into Robby’s shoulder for balance.
“Feels solid,” he admitted. Then, with a sly grin: “Almost as solid as you, doc.”
Robby groaned, covering his face with one hand. “You’re insufferable.”
Dana shook her head, though her smile was fond. “He’s alive, his leg works, and you two still flirt like teenagers. I’m calling that a win.”
Jack winked at her, then at Robby. “What can I say? I like keeping morale up.”
Robby muttered something in Russian under his breath, but his hand lingered on Jack’s arm a second longer than necessary.
And if Jack stood just a little taller, leaning a little more confidently on the repaired leg, no one called him on it.