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Summary
He knew he loved Robby. He was too old to prance around big words like that. He loved Robby. Loved him like he loved the night, like he loved his job, like he had loved his wife. He loved the infinite heartache that came with loving something finite. Shit. When had that happened? When had he put Robby in the same category of love as his wife?
Christ, maybe Walsh was right. That idea irked him.
The ambulance bay doors burst open and his head snapped towards the sound. “I need some help here!”
He rushed forward to see what had happened and stopped dead in his tracks. Robby was there, hunched over, knife sticking out of his gut, leaning on a tall blond man with a cut on his cheek and a forming bruise around his eye. “Please help, he’s been stabbed, please,” the man said, voice shaky.3 weeks after Pittfest and Jack is starting to realise what he may be feeling for the good Doctor Robby. But he doesn't get a chance to tell him, before Robby is rushed in to the ER with a stab wound, just hours after Jack last saw him.