Chapter Text
All things considered, it’s a damn good day.
Robby woke up exactly when his alarm rang, with no lingering tiredness fogging his mind. Outside, the sun had yet to wake, but the city was quiet in the way that only reflected fall. On his way to the bathroom, he had caught a glimpse of Jack, in his own bed, in his own room, with a toddler sprawled all over him.
The coffee machine that he had gifted Jack for his birthday a week prior was working marvelously, and Robby was almost mournful that he didn’t get to make himself more than one cup to last his shift.
It hadn’t been cold enough that a walk to the hospital was impossible. Instead, it had felt peaceful.
The workday itself hadn’t been a bad one. Not a quiet one, either, but he could handle it. Dana was only mildly annoyed at the world, and the med students he had today seemed to have collectively decided that today was the day they would prove themselves.
He had just thrown a pair of gloves into the trash, letting the Orthopedic surgeon know that the patient was ready for their surgery, when Adamson motioned at him to come over.
It wasn’t all that uncommon for Monty to want to debrief with Robby. Sometimes, he wasn’t even looking for a debriefing session. Sometimes, when Monty was in a particularly good mood, he would only be looking for company. Maybe even something to gossip about. For some strange reason Robby hadn’t fully wrapped his mind around, Adamson always seemed to walk up to him in these moments. Not that he minded.
Today doesn’t seem to be this kind of day.
“What’s up, boss?” He asks, catching the hand sanitizer on his way over.
Monty doesn’t say anything, only cocks his head towards his office. In all his years as an attending, Robby had seen the chief of the ER in his office maybe a total of four times.
It’s a cranky, narrow office. There’s a bookshelf on the right with a few books, but mostly random stacks of paper. The desk, if you could consider it a desk, has an old-generation computer that Robby isn’t completely certain actually works. There are no windows, and the walls are crammed with health advice posters, anatomy papers, and different diplomas.
“I wanted to talk to you about something, Michael. Unofficially.” Adamson starts, sitting down in the chair. It might be the only nice thing present in this office.
“Unofficial is either very good or very bad,” Robby chuckles, settling himself in the chair in front of the desk. Truth is, he feels a lot like a high schooler being called up to the principal. Which is silly and borderline stupid, because he’s forty-two, a full attending at one of the best trauma centers of the region, and in front of him is the closest thing to a father figure he ever got.
Monty smiles back at him before dissolving into a fit of laughter. “You should see your face right now. Relax, Mike. I’m not firing you.”
“I didn’t think you were.” He tries to defend himself, but he knows he sounds like a petulant child.
“Listen, I’m getting old. I have four, five, maybe, years under my belt before it’s going to be time for me to let go.”
“You’re retiring?” Robby is aware that Monty isn’t, in fact, getting any younger. Still, he had never thought about practicing medicine without having Adamson by his side.
“At some point, yes. And I want to train you to be the chief attending.” Monty says, looking directly at him. “Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. You’re fantastic with the students, you’re a brilliant physician, and don’t think I don’t see you bored out of your mind when it’s a quieter day. You would still need to learn from me, and you know I always love to teach you, but eventually you’ll succeed me.”
So yes, it had overall been a good day.
On his way back home, he stops by the pizza place that he knows Ellie loves. Well, in all honesty, it’s not like the four-year-old actually has a favorite pizza place. She tends to be content as long as pizza is on the table.
So what if he goes to this place because he knows that one of the workers, Joe, always feels bad about Robby’s pitiful shifts and always gives him free beers on his way out, along with a string of compliments about how good of a man he is? On the shifts where he didn’t feel like passing out on his couch and ignoring the whole world, it did feel amazing. Monty already told him he was an amazing doctor today; a little more ego stoking couldn’t hurt.
He’s not exactly sure when he came to think of Jack’s house as his own. He tries not to dwell on the feeling of guilt. It’s been ten, soon-to-be eleven months since Sarah passed away. Ellie is handling it well, even though the therapist has warned them that the worst of it has yet to come. Jack is also doing somewhat better. He’s able to sleep again in his own bedroom, he’s fully back on shift, he’s a functioning human again. Robby is too smart to get fooled by it.
Halfway through the front door, the small body of the toddler collides with his legs. He is a bit taken aback, and for a second, he thinks both the pizza and the beers will fall. It’s a little reckless, he will admit, to have everything balanced in one hand.
Walking in great strides toward them is Jack, seemingly breathless and a little off-balance. Looking down, Robby is met with the same shade of green eyes, smiling wildly at him, tiny arms wrapped around his legs.
“Well, hello, there.” He says, a hand coming down to ruffle Ellie’s hair. She’s wearing some sort of princess costume that Robby isn’t sure is supposed to be from the Frozen movie she’s obsessed with or the one with the Scottish bears.
“She’s yours,” is the first thing Jack says when he reaches Robby. He is, indeed, out of breath, but mostly, he looks pissed. Before Robby gets to ask what is going on, Jack resumes his speech. Helpful as ever, he reaches to help Robby out with the beers and the pizzas. “Your little monster was on a mission to drive me insane today.”
“My monster?” Robby repeats, furrowing his eyebrows. Ellie is now bouncing, landing more times on his feet than the floor. “That’s your child, not mine.”
“No,” Jack replies, glaring at Robby. “She’s Sarah’s child.”
Robby knows he isn’t actually angry. He knows all about how Sarah used to drive him insane sometimes, and how every time Jack came up to him to complain, it was all laced with love. Still, Jack has barely mentioned his wife in the last year.
“This kind of day, huh?” Robby asks, taking in the dark bags under his eyes, the dried paint by his elbow, and the obvious strain in his posture.
Jack purses his lips, opens his mouth once, then closes it again. He gives a simple nod to Robby before lowering himself in front of his daughter. He tugs lightly on the side of her dress, gaining her attention.
“I have to go for a bit, but I’ll be back soon. Robby’s staying with you. Be nice to him, okay?” Ellie doesn’t answer him, turning to run back to the living room. As for Jack, he lets out a controlled sigh. “She drove me insane today.” He clarifies as he bends down to grab his shoe.
When he gets back on his feet, Robby hands him his jacket, patting his back lightly. When he doesn’t offer anything else, Jack eyes him again. “You look like you’re in a good mood.”
“I had a good day,” he shrugs. “Andrew wanted to see you?” It’s way too late for a therapy session. Either Jack called for an emergency one, or his therapist did. In the living room, Ellie is shrieking something about a Mr. Potato.
When he looks back at Jack, he’s giving him a smirk. “So what’s her name?” Avoiding the therapist session, then. Which probably means Jack was the one to make the call. Still, he feels the confusion make itself known on his expression.
“What?”
“Come on, brother, give me something. How is your good day called?”
Well, it’s not like Robby could exactly tell him the reason why. The only image his brain conjures is the scene he had seen this morning, when he had peeked inside the bedroom only to see two of his favorite people sleeping peacefully.
“There is no one,” Robby rolls his eyes. “I just slept well for once, and it helped the day go by.”
“Alright, keep your secrets. I’ll figure it out eventually.” Robby truly hopes he never will. “Okay, good luck with her. Keep me a slice of pizza. And that beer.”
Before he could answer, Jack was out the door. Robby lets out a sigh, finally taking his shoes off and dropping his bag on the floor.
Both he and Ellie are on the floor of the living room, slices of pizza put in front of them. One of her animated movies is playing on the television, but even she isn’t looking invested in it. Instead, she only looks blankly at the pizza.
“So, champ, how was your day?” Robby asks, nudging her shoulder. It’s the middle of the week, which means she was in school. By now, it’s nearing ten in the evening. On any other day, Robby would have written her behavior off as regular exhaustion. Today, however, he can tell there’s something deeper.
Ellie doesn’t answer him. It’s something he’s noticed she tends to do when she doesn’t quite know how to say. He doesn’t push, only brings a hand to her back, rubbing slow circles. In all the years he’s known her, which is quite frankly her whole life, she has never been a very clingy child. She doesn’t like to be touched without her initiating it. The only exception being her father. Not even Sarah could get to her like that.
Taking this into consideration, it’s surprising that she lets him be this close. It’s even more surprising when she gets close enough to him to sit on his lap.
“What did you eat at lunch?”
“Dad made lasagna.” Somehow, talking about food is usually the only way of getting her to answer.
Robby hums. He tries to relax as much as he can, leaning against the couch. There is a reason why Jack calls her a tiger. She is kind of an overgrown cat. Ellie goes with him willingly, putting a bit more of her weight on his chest.
“Who did you play with at school?” He asks her. This is typically the type of question that gets Jake to talk. However, he knows it also tends to get her to talk too. Robby finds that talking to a child is very comparable to talking to a patient. Patients are not likely to answer you when you ask what is going on with them. Children tend to answer when you ask them specific questions. Profiling and observing are qualities that come in handy both around children and emergency patients. Maybe that’s why Jack is such a good father.
Ellie doesn’t answer at first. She only grabs his right hand and picks at his finger, inspecting his palm. Robby winces a bit at grease on her hands transferring to his. It’s only when he starts going through the list of people from his class that he knows that she interrupts him.
“Phoebe isn’t my friend anymore.” She says, her tone firm.
Damn. He didn’t know it started this early in life.
“What happened?” He pushes, hoping that it’s enough for her to keep going.
“Mikey?” Her tone shifts, growing more wistful. He nods his head, his chin landing softly on the top of her head. Her hair smells like pizza grease. He’s already dreading having to make her take a shower. “Why did Mommy leave me?”
For a second, his world crumbles. Fuck. He isn’t equipped or ready for this. As far as he knows, she has never asked this question like this. It had always been about her mother being sick, or her mother ‘going to the sky’, as her aunt Grace had put it. It has never been about being abandoned by her mother.
He realizes, then, that maybe this is why Jack had been having such a hard time today. Maybe she hadn’t been voicing her thoughts, but if she had been externalizing them, then it couldn’t possibly have been a nice day for him.
He also realizes that this situation is strikingly similar to one he had with his grandmother, the summer of ‘82. Except he was older than she is. The wound, however, seems to still be bleeding for both of them.
Robby has to hold back his tears when he helps her turn around on his lap. Her big eyes are also shining with unshed tears, her lips trembling. He tucks a loose curl behind her ear, and absentmindedly, he gives her head a few brushes, the same way his grandmother used to rub his neck.
“She didn’t leave you. She never would have, sunshine.” He takes a deep breath. He could do it. In the few months that followed her death, it was a story he had repeated to her multiple times. “Your mother was very sick. The doctors tried to help her the best, but she was too sick, and she passed away. But she never would have left you.”
Now, the tears were freely leaving her face. Robby wordlessly dried her tears with his hands, and when she crashed her face on his shirt, he kept his mouth shut, wrapping his arms around her.
Some part of this conversation must have been partially due to exhaustion, because when Jack comes back, all of twenty minutes later, the toddler is dead asleep in his arms.
Jack stops short in his steps, taking in the scenery. There is a plethora of expressions that flash through his face but he voices none of them. Robby is almost frustrated that he is too far for him to correctly read them, even more when Jack disappears.
When he reappears, he’s holding the two fresh beers. He crashes himself on the couch, right next to Robby, his leg resting against his shoulder. One could think that over the decade-long friendship they have, Robby would be used to the physical contact coming from his friend. Especially considering that he was typically one to crave it, and that Jack was the type that couldn’t breathe if he wasn’t having a point of contact at all times. However, considering the equally long time that Robby spent wishing that the feelings that were ripping apart his heart would go away, he had yet to overcome the feeling of dread and burning. He doesn’t move away.
“Wanna share?” He simply asks, thanking him for the beer.
Jack only shrugs, looking ahead at the television. “Same old. And she was crazy today. Glad she didn’t put you through it, either.” Robby only stares at him, which makes Jack roll his eyes. “Buddy from the military called.”
“Ah.” They rarely called each other to catch up.
“Yup,” Jack sighs. “Did you figure out what was going on with her?”
This time, Robby lets him deflect. “She and Phoebe aren’t friends anymore.” He only says. Jack chuckles in response, taking a swing of his beer. He knows it’s not the full extent. The fact that he doesn’t push tells Robby that he knows exactly what was going on with her.
They drink the rest of their beers in silence. When they finish, they work in silence, clearing the table, turning off the television, throwing the garbage in the trash, locking up the front door, putting the kid to sleep.
Jack is humming a song as he caresses the hair of his daughter. This moment seems to be more for himself than for the kid, but Robby indulges him, not saying a word. Before something can break whatever soothing time Jack is finally indulging himself in, Robby steps out, making his way to the bedroom he ended up claiming as his own.
Eventually, he would have to talk to Jack about moving back to his house. Not that he wants to. Deep down, in the trenches of his heart, where all his desire lies, he would sell out his house and move in permanently. He would take care of Ellie as his own, hold his friend as they go through this treacherous life together.
None of it is possible. He knows this much.