Work Text:
Jack had said his goodbyes and good luck to his patient before leaving the room. He closed the door behind him and went on a hunt for Robby. He couldn’t push down his gut feelings any longer or keep his word on leaving him be. After seeing how messed up Robby was for not being able to save a kid from a T-bone collision, he'd been worried about leaving him alone. He checks around as he walks up to the nurse's station. Hoping Dana had a clue or maybe someone did. Mohan was there at his side all of a sudden with a smile on her face.
“Hey,” She chirps.
“Hey. Have you seen Robby?”
She turns her head, looking around and then back at him. “Um, I think he went for some air.”
Jack patted her shoulder and ran off. He knew where. Especially after a rough shift. He opens the door to the staircase door, finding himself on the roof. He looks over, seeing Robby by the ledge, over the rails. Their spot.
He sighs in relief. Taking a step forward and that’s when he notices Robby is closer to the edge. Closer than he usually is. His heart started to beat faster, and his legs took a couple more steps. Cautious steps. He didn’t want to provoke him.
“Robby.”
He turns his head at the call of his name. His puffy eyes widened, his lips slightly parted. Jack's heart aches watching tears flowing over dry ones. Robby looks away for a moment and looks back at Jack, who’s silently pleading. His lips lifted briefly, which Jack knew meant he was apologizing. He shook his head, not wanting to accept. He wanted him away from there.
Robby turns his attention back to the world below. Jack calls out his name again, his pleading voice thickens with raw emotions. It didn't stop him. Robby leans forward, falling off the building. Jack screams his name, panicking as he dashes out the roof the same way he came in. Huffing and puffing, pushing past people, hurling at doors.
He got to the front entrance, finding a bunch of people crowded up together, blocking his way out. They murmured among themselves. He groans, growing anger by every second wasted. He enters the large crowd, not bothering with manners as he pushes through. He didn’t like it, their eyes staring at him. Judging him, whispering among themselves that it was his fault. That he was a terrible boyfriend for not noticing. How awful he is for neglecting Robby. Everything went heavy. He found it hard to walk. To breathe. His head buzzing and spinning.
Finally, he made it through. Finding himself, standing over the bloody body of Robby that lay broken and bleeding on the pavement. His lifeless eyes staring at him. His hair matted with blood. His clothing drenched in his blood. His knees went weak at the sight. His stomach sick and ready to hurl. His heart pounding too quickly. It felt like he was going to crash. He took a step back, not noticing Dana rushing over to him. Her shaky hands dragged him away to the open space where the crowd was no longer huddling around. It was just them and Robby.
“Abbot. I’m so sorry…” Her voice choked up.
He couldn’t form words, his throat tightened like a noose. His eyes spilling. Voices around him become static noise. The only loud one is the drumming of his heart.
He woke up with a jolt. His body sweaty and cold, the sheets below his waist. His chest rose and dropped fast. His eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. His hand coming up, rubbing his tears away and the tiresome eyes. He dropped his hand on his chest, staring for a moment at the quiet ceiling fan spinning. His head turned, expecting to see Robby sleeping quietly, and found that side empty instead. Panicking, wondering where he went and started to question whether his dream was real.
He threw back the covers and got out of bed. His hand on the nightstand for support and he caught the sight of his sticker-filled cane leaning on the other side. His heart warms up, recalling Robby buying it for him months ago, in case he didn’t want to put on his prosthetic around the house or in case he needed extra support while wearing the prosthetic. Robby was the first to add to the collection of many stickers - a red heart. The others were from friends and co-workers. Ranging between memey stuff to LGBTQ stickers. He added his own over time.
He moves away, not wanting to get lost in memories. He used whether there is to support him, walls and furniture, or on his own. He checked their bathroom and went out to an open space that consisted of the living room, dining room, and kitchen. No light. No signs of Robby.
He cursed under his breath. Going back to the bedroom. Taking his phone from the nightstand and calling Robby's cell. It went straight to voicemail. He tried again. Nothing. He called a couple of times and got the same results.
He tosses the phone on the floor, cursing even more. He pushes back his curls and tries not to overthink, but he couldn’t understand why Robby would leave at two in the morning for something. He sat down on Robby's side, his hands rubbing each other.
A set of hands came up to his shoulders. Flinching, he twists his waist to see his wife. Alive and well. Smiling at him. His eyes widened, his mouth dropping a little.
“Hey, baby.”
“I-You’re here…” His body moves to face his wife, drinking in every feature. Her dark brown eyes. Her long wavy brown hair. Her oval face. Her fairly tan skin. The laugh lines crinkle when she smiles and laughs. The small hoop earrings she would wear. Her curves. That small belly fat that she felt insecure about and he loved. There was nothing he didn’t love.
Her hand reaches up to his cheek, strokes his stubble. “You growing a beard now?”
He laughs lightly with her. Both smiling fondly at each other. He leans into her touch. His eyes closed, missing her soft hands. The way they caressed him after a long day and held him down in bed.
"What's wrong, Jack?"
“I miss you…” His voice cracked, taking her hand in his. Pressing soft kisses on her knuckles.
“I miss you too… but I know you and it’s not that. It’s him.”
He pulls away, looking away. Images from his dreams flashed behind his eyes. The copper scent fresh and strong, his stomach churning, his heart drowning and screaming. His hands began to shake.
“Brings you back huh, Sarge?”
He looks up to a Caucasian male in his Army combat uniform standing by his door. Smiling at him.
“Corporal…” He smiles, remembering the quirky, upbeat man he met in service. The military could never take that away from him, he was always the optimistic. Even at his last breath.
“Seems to be a common theme with you, Sarge. Unable to save anyone you love.”
His smile went away as he looked over at the other side of the bed, a half-open brown casket with white velvet lining. A casket sprays of red roses lay on top. His heart dropped, his breath picked up. Recalling picking those out for her. Recalling putting her favourite flower in the casket before they closed it. He shook his head, not wanting to go there.
“No… no, no. Not you, bring her back.”
“I knew you were crazy but yelling at a ghost takes a different level.”
He shook his hand, saying: “You’re dead. Robby isn’t.”
“He isn’t?” He looked around the room, peeking out the door. “Pretty quiet, Sarge. Sure he isn’t off with some chick or guy?”
Jack got up, pointed his finger at him and barked: “Don’t you say that about him.”
He raised his hands apologetically. Yet in the far side of Jack's mind, he was believing what his friend had said. He knew it was wrong. Robby is loyal as a Labrador. Yet recalling two weeks ago, how Robby had been acting weird. Distant. Secretive. He would reassure him and say it’s nothing. It didn’t help.
“He wouldn’t leave…” It was more to reassure him than telling his friend.
“How can you be certain, Sarge? You taught us that we’re going to lose our brothers in combat.”
“This isn’t war, Simon.”
“Aren’t we always at war, sir? In combat and in our head.”
He sat back down in silence, unable to argue with that. Simon strides over, sitting by him. Removing his cap, his eyes set on him. He smiles a bit, eyeing Jack. How older he has gotten. Loving the greys, the stubbles, the way his body filled out over the years.
Looking away and taking a deep breath. “Michael is a good guy. But even you know he’s fighting demons every day and I know you, Jack. You feel hopeless that you can’t do anything to save him from his own personal hell.”
“I’m here. He knows that.”
“For how long?” He asks, catching Jack's confused look. “How long can you keep up with Michael emotionally closing himself off? How long can you stand by and watch him struggle?”
His head lowered, his eyes focusing on the floor. His shaky hands fidgeted with themselves. Robby is a great guy with a big heart and he would tell anyone proudly that he’s the luckiest guy to meet Robby. Even luckier to be dating him. As much as the relationship has been the greatest thing within his stressful life, it has also been terrifying.
Knowing well Robby fights his personal demons and pressure at work non-stop. Knows that he bottles it all up and when it gets too overwhelming. He shuts down, making it harder for anyone to reach him. His mind recalls times when Robby hit a breaking point and he kept him at a distance. Told him he needed some space and he was more than willing to give him some. Whatever Robby needs, he’ll give. Though he hates sitting by feeling like he wasn’t doing enough.
He worries constantly that Robby will decide once and for all that he has had enough. He can’t continue on. He dreads for that day to come. At times, like now, he wonders if he’s doing enough for Robby. If Robby would be better off without him. His mind wandered to Robby absent tonight and the last couple of weeks. He wonders if it was a sign. A sign that he didn’t need him. A sign that Robby doesn’t trust him. A sign that if this is Robby spiraling down, then does he even know him? Or is Robby giving up on them?
He curses out loud, his shaky hands coming up to rub his face. His leg bouncing anxiously. Anger began to build up in his chest. Overwhelming him till he couldn’t breathe. He let out a raw scream, his whole body shaking. His hands lowered to hug himself. His eyes caught the picture frame by the nightstand, a photo of him and Robby at the beach. In a flash of anger, he grabs the picture frame and hurls it at the door. His chest huffed and puffed.
“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath, dropping into his hand. He began to cry quietly.
He went down, sitting by the nightstand after a minute. The world spinning around him. His skin paler and sweaty. He shifts to face furniture, opening the last drawer where he kept his military stuff. His hand moves a couple of things aside, coming across a printed photo of Simon and him.
A buddy of theirs took the photo while they were out in Iraq. They didn’t have their gear on, just wore their tan shirts and cargo pants. They were playing cards on his cot. He had a dumbfounded expression on his face and Simon was grinning. His eyes fell shut, more tears spilling. Recalling that week was the last time he saw Simon. He took a deep breath before reopening his eyes. He put the photo down and caught his dog tags near his ribbons and medals. Staring for a moment. Everything slowly came back to him.
He picks it up, a mix of emotions bubbling up in his chest. Pride. Hate. Grief. Every scar, big and small, aches. Every loss he recalls made it worse to breathe. His thumb roams over the engraved letters, trying to ground himself. Using a breathing technique that has helped him before. It didn’t work, his mind too cloudy to focus.
Robby opens the front door, quietly stepping in and closing the door softly behind him. Hoping he didn’t wake up Jack in the process. He slips out his shoes and puts them in the shoe rack by the door. Putting his keys on the kitchen counter. He couldn’t wait to go back to bed, get whatever little hours before work.
He turns around, seeing the bedroom door slightly open. His brow frowned, feeling certain he closed the door. He took cautious steps forward, his hand pushing the door wider. Hearing crunching under his socks. He looks down, seeing glass. His brow scrunched, crouching down and finding the photo he had on his nightstand in shattered glass and broken wooden frame. His head turns to find Jack on his knees, resting on his only foot.
“Jack,” He calls worriedly, rushing over to him. Going on his knees and placing his hand on his shoulder, concerned at the messy state he’s in. Jack shoves him away, knocking him down on his ass.
He didn’t understand. He wanted to. His eyes glanced over at the open drawer. His stomach sank, knowing exactly what was in that drawer. He sits up, his legs crossed and his hands intertwined on his lap. Watching the tears coming down Jack’s face with a heavy heart. His eyes looked down, feeling terrible for not being here earlier. His head turns away, bowing. His arms wrapped around him. Taking a deep breath.
“Talk to me, Jack.”
“I tried calling,” He sniffles, whipping his face.
Robby looks up, his eyes pressed closed for a moment as he curses under his breath. He remembered he had shut off his phone because he didn’t want to be disturbed on his outing. Jack shifts, resting his back on the mattress. His good leg coming up to his chest. His eyes focused on the dog tags he held in his hands.
“Where were you?”
“Uh, out. Had errands.”
“At two in the morning?” His glaring eyes met Robby’s, who instantly looked away. “Is it often?”
Robby lowers his head, rubbing his neck. Not sure how to tell Jack after being sworn to secrecy. He knew it didn’t look good or would sound right if he tried to explain without the main details.
“It’s not what you think.”
“What else am I supposed to think, Michael?” He barks, slamming the drawer. Making Robby flinch. “Huh? You’ve been distant for weeks.”
He lifts himself up onto the bed while Robby tells him: “There’s a simple answer to that.”
Jack watches him get up, settling beside him. His body facing him, one leg crossed on the bed.
“I’ve been with Heather.” Jack's whole face fell, not expecting that. “Helping her.”
“Late at night?”
Robby lips press together, nodding. Jack didn’t want to go to the immediate thought of Robby going back to his ex. He knew Robby must’ve had a good reason and he’s relieved it wasn’t something terrible.
“She’s been having it rough. Me and Dana try our best to cheer her up,” He explains. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”
“It’s fine. I understand.” His eyes wandering off, his fingers fiddling with the tags.
Robby knew something was off from the moment he walked in, but Jack wasn’t exactly the type to talk about their feelings if someone asked if they were okay. Anyone would expect someone who goes to therapy to learn to be more open and expressive. Not Jack. At least not at first. Robby learned from experience as a doctor and friend that he needed to ease his way in.
He got up, took off his jacket and dropped it on the bed. He left the room and went to the kitchen. Grab two beers from the fridge. Finding Jack exactly how he left him. He settles back down, pushing the jacket aside and hands him a cold can.
“Thanks,” He mumbles, taking the can.
Both open it, a sharp click and hiss let out. They took the first sip in silence.
“You rarely open that drawer.”
“Bad memories…” He whispers, his eyes looking down at the items in his hands. “Good memories. Depends on the story.”
“What was this one?”
Jack let out a big sigh, taking another sip. Feeling foolish for his outburst earlier, but he had to ask. “Am I doing an okay job?”
“You’re doing great.”
Jack shook his head, knowing he didn’t get what he meant. His fingers tighten around the tags. His eyes briefly met Robby’s, who gave him the wettest dog look humanly possible.
“I don’t mean that. I mean us.”
Robby sat quietly while Jack drank his beer. The cold can burn his hands. He wasn’t expecting this. Not so late in the night. His mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. He closes his mouth. His eyes drift away as he tilts his head. His hand came up to rub his neck.
“You're going to leave me hanging on that one, cowboy?” Robby broke out a smile, letting out a soft laugh. “Not cool, man.”
Robby lifts his head, his eyes catching Jack’s with a wide, tender smile. His index finger scratching the can. He says in a soft voice: “You’re amazing, Jack. I couldn’t ask for a better person to be by my side.”
“I might act up if you keep jorking me like that.
Robby grins as his head lowers and shakes. His face went red. Jack watches with content, smiling as well. He didn’t know why he doubted himself in the first place. He makes Robby happy. He makes him smile and laugh. That was more than enough.
Jack looks down at his can, his smile faltering. Gulping down the last bit of beer. He twisted his waist to place the empty can on the nightstand. He took a deep breath while Robby put the can on the floor.
“What is it?"
“I don’t want to lose you,” He spoke quietly, swallowing down the rising emotions. “What we have.”
His eyes went past Robby to the door, staring at his wife, smiling at him, and Simon stood by her in his service dress uniform with a smile. He stood at attention, the heels of his shoes clicked. His hand, fingers closed together, came up to his forehead with pride. A small smile crossed his face. He looks down at his close fist, opening it to see his tags. Every choice he made. Joining the military. Becoming a doctor. Getting married. It cost him to the point where he broke. Where he couldn’t function properly in society and started pushing people away. Got angry. Started drinking. Didn’t want to live. It took so much effort and therapy to get to the point where he’s doing fine. Not good. But functional. This time. This choice - dating Robby. Now he can start forgiving himself. Get better. Let himself be happy for once.
“You mean a lot, Michael. Promise me I get to see you all wrinkling with white hair so I can call you Papa Smurf.”
Robby laughs, baring his teeth. Jack joins him. The laughter settles down after a while and Robby grabs his necklace. Pulling it out to view. He took Jack’s dog tags from his hand. His head bowed as his hands brought the ball chains over his head. He lifts his head back up. The dog tags hang below his Star of David pendant.
Jack couldn’t find a single word to say. His eyes began to tear up again because he understood this was Robby's way of telling him he didn’t have to worry. To not feel guilty for not being there when things go south. And a reminder to Robby that he wasn’t alone. A part of him will be there, watching over him the way his God does.
Robby reaches out, pulling him into his arms. Jack wraps his arms around his stomach, his cheek resting on Robby's shoulder. Letting out a shaky sigh. Melting into his embrace and his fingers stroking his hair.
“I love you, man.”
“I love you too,” Robby whispers, pressing a small kiss on his neck.
Their eyes closed, enjoying each other's presents. After a while, Robby got heavy and his arms were loose around his neck. Jack smiles, rubbing his back as he pulls Robby away. Holding Robby steady. His eyes half-closed, his body looking like he could pass out any minute. He felt bad for making him stay up late.
“Alright, let's get you tucked in.”
Robby nods while yawning. Rubbing his eyes and moving past Jack. Plopping down next to him. Jack looks over, admiring how adorable Robby is lying on his side. His arms wrapped around himself, his legs slightly bent to the knees. His eyes closed, his body submitting to the comfort and warmth of their bed. Jack grabs the blanket and pulls it over him. His hand lingering on his bicep, a smile on his face.
“Hey…” Robby murmurs, his hand untucking from under his arm. His fingers brushed Jack’s hand. “Is everything okay now?”
"Yeah."
Robby smiles. Jack's hand reaches up, running his fingers through his short hair. Smiling softly at him for a while before getting up.
“Baby…” Robby murmurs, his voice thickens with sleep. “Don’t leave.”
Jack leans down, his hands planted on the bed. Pressing a lingering kiss on his temple. He pulls away, whispering: “Never could, Papa.”
He stood for a bit, watching till he was certain Robby was fast asleep. He moved around to his side and grabbed his cane. Getting to work on preparing things for Robby before he went on shift. They don’t usually do this. Work hours can get weird, sleep schedules can get wonky. But times like this. A moment of wiggle room. They help and Jack wants to do something for Robby as thanks.
He made sure his keys and badge were on the kitchen counter. Grab the half box of muffins next the coffee machine and place it beside the items. Got his scrubs and jacket from the bed, and set them on top of the wardrobe. Alongside his airpods in its case and his favourite shades. Make sure his bag is prepped and ready to go. He threw out the beers, downing whatever was left by Robby. Cleaning up the mess left by the door. He picks up the photo, hating that he had destroyed the frame. He set a reminder in his head to get a new one.
He walks over to Robby. Place the photo down on the nightstand. Turning to Robby and took out his phone from his back pocket. Putting it to charge because he knew Robby tended to forget till it was on its last leg. He left it on the nightstand, on top of the photo. He picks up his phone from the floor. The lock screen lit up. A digital clock reading '02:45', underneath a photo of Robby in his reading glass and a book in hand. He smiles, recalling that afternoon. He looks up to see Robby, fast asleep like a baby. He repeats to himself that there's no point in doubting or worrying. Robby has come far in the last couple of months. It's a slow process, but Robby has been strong and stubborn as hell. As long as Robby kept trying, he had nothing to worry about. He’ll be patient and stubborn. But most importantly, his safety net.
He moves over to his side of the bed, leaving the cane leaning on the nightstand. He gets under the covers, moving over to Robby. Resting on his side, his hand slithering around his waist and his other hand hugging his own shoulder. His cheek pressed against his shoulder blades, his eyes fell close. A small smile spread across his lips as he fell asleep.