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Robby knows it's illogical. Walking into work and seeing Shen at the desk waiting to do a handover with him shouldn't be disappointing. He likes doing the handover with Jack. Beginning his workday with Jack is like downing an energy drink for breakfast; It keeps him going until he can clock out.
Thinking that way when he left Jack sleeping in their bed is why he knows it's illogical.
Shen has his is hands in his pockets, looking far too awake for the end of a twelve-hour night shift. He tries to think if he ever had that much energy, but the thought just tires him out more.
He hadn't slept well, thanks to a car alarm going off a few doors down every five minutes or so. He yawns as he glances up at the screen to check what kind of shitshow he's starting his day with.
Surprisingly, there are no critical patients, just rooms filled with broken bones, a food poisoning case, and a possible burst appendix. All completely under control. He really needs to stop underestimating Shen. He might still be a fairly new attending, but he knows what he's doing. He should at least. Jack trained him.
"Thanks," Robby says, deftly looping his stethoscope around his neck, "Hey, aren't you supposed to be back here for a swing shift in like six hours?"
"Thanks for the reminder, still trying to find cover. I have long weekend plans, and I really don't want to have to cancel on him for the third time this month. I really have a lot of making up to do," Shen winks.
Robby blinks. A handover with Shen really isn't complete without him oversharing about his personal life.
God, he needs coffee.
"Go, sleep, I've got it from here."
"Perfect, I'm gone."
Robby hasn't even put his bag down yet when Shen claps him on the shoulder and heads towards the lockers.
He scans the open-plan department, looking for Dana. She's always clocked in before him, but there's no sign of her. He knows it won't be long before she reappears. She never strays too far from the hub. Whilst he waits, he loops around the desk and sticks his bag under it.
He has an office, somewhere in the building, but it's too far from the ED, and so he barely steps inside it. He'd much rather be in the middle of the action so he can be there to deal with things as they arise.
When he raises back up and spins around, he's not expecting Gloria to be standing right there.
"Oh my God," Robby's hand flies to his chest. "You want me to have a heart attack, Gloria?"
He hates how stealthy she is sometimes.
"Well, you're in the right place for one," She says without an ounce of humour.
"And what can I do for you today?" He sighs.
"I'm here about the memo I sent over last week."
Robby blinks. "Right, the memo…"
"You don't have to pretend you read your emails; everyone knows you don't."
She takes a step to the side, and two very young-looking men in suits appear from behind her, like they were hiding there.
"The hospital has decided it needs a clearer idea of how individual departments are running; it wants to see if there are any processes that could be streamlined."
Robby snorts, "Save you money, you mean."
Gloria doesn't take the bait.
"We're just looking to see where there's waste, looking for opportunities for efficiency."
"It better not end up with me having less staff," Robby huffs.
"Maybe if we find those efficiencies, you'll have extra budget to hire some more," Gloria suggests, and Robby resists the urge to laugh.
"Gloria, we both know if you find a way to save money, you'll just cut my budget some more."
"You can complain about this all you want, Robby, but it's happening and it's happening today. Meet Mr Weathers and Mr Smith from consultancy firm Fitzwilliam Fortescue, they will be auditing the ER over two day shifts." She leans in, "Play nice," She adds before turning to the two men.
"Gentlemen, this is our ER chief, Dr Michael Robinavitch; he'll see to any question or concerns you have," she says, with a pointed look back at Robby.
She turns to leave, stops and turns back to Robby. "You'll be at the meeting later today?" She asks quietly.
Robby doesn't have to ask which meeting. The date has been looming for weeks, like a runaway train heading straight for him.
"Yeah, I'll be there," he answers reluctantly.
"Good," she nods, then turns to leave.
"Fucking perfect," Robby mutters as soon as she's out of earshot.
Finally, he turns to the two men. He's never seen two people look more out of place in the ER, and he once treated thirty-five TV extras in full alien make-up, all puking their guts out from dodgy craft services.
They don't look like they've ever seen a hospital on TV, let alone stood in one. And these are the people who will be judging how he runs the place. He absolutely doesn't look forward to having every decision assessed and every move watched.
His day has already gone from crap to shit, and he's been clocked in for less than fifteen minutes. He hasn't even had coffee yet.
"Alright," he claps his hands together, and their attention snaps to him "Here's the deal, gentlemen. You get whatever data you want to get, write whatever notes you want to write, but you will stay out of the trauma rooms, and if I hear your presence has impeded my staff from doing their jobs in any way, you're gone, I don't care what Gloria says, you understand?"
They nod sharply.
Dana finds him not long after.
"Who's dumb and dumber?"
"You don't want to know," Robby sighs. "Just let me know if they get in the way at all?"
"Sir, yes, sir," she salutes. "Oh, and the leak in bed fourteen is back."
Drip, drip, drip.
Robby stares up at the ceiling pipes as they drip onto the bed and the floor below, like a death glare might fix the issue.
The liquid is a concerning brown colour, and he dreads to think what's in it.
It's the third time in a month this pipe has leaked, and each time it puts the whole room out of commission. They already don't have enough beds.
This is one of the least favourite parts of his job.
A droplet falls, and the splatter lands on his shoes.
"Could we not find a single fucking bucket in this whole ED?" He huffs. "Call maintenance, will you?"
"I've called them," Dana tells him patiently.
"Call them again," Robby requests sharply, his volume pulling the attention of nearby staff. "And keep calling them until this is fixed."
Dana peers at him over the top of her glasses, "Okay, who pissed in your Wheaties this morning?"
Only Jack and Dana can get away with talking to him like that. Even still, he has to bite his tongue from snapping back at her.
"Go get some coffee, will ya? Before you sic that bad mood on the med students."
He does as he's told and heads to the break room for some much-needed coffee. Of course, he finds the pot empty and the usual stocks of coffee missing from the cupboard.
Someone is testing him today.
He considers heading to the cafeteria for his much-needed caffeine when Jesse finds him.
"We need you in two, now."
Robby doesn't hesitate, following after Jesse, who holds the door of Trauma Two open for him as he enters.
The room is filled with the sound of alarms and beeps, signalling that something is very wrong. Samira is beside the gurney and looks relieved when he appears. As he gloves up and takes in the information on the screens, she lists off all the symptoms and what she's tried.
"I just can't get her to stabilise," Samira looks defeated.
"Alright, let's go back to the basics, one thing at a time," he guides her.
Before they can even make headway, the woman flatlines.
"Chest compressions!" Robby orders, and Samira raises up to begin steady chest compressions on her patient. "A round of epi," he adds, and Jesse immediately pushes the dose into the IV.
After five minutes, Robby switches out with Samira, and he requests another round of epi.
They keep going for half an hour, taking turns with the chest compressions whilst trying to figure out why her heart stopped. Nothing they try works, and eventually, Robby steps back. The monitor drones. There's no heartbeat.
"Call it," he sighs.
Samira looks at her watch. "Time of death, ten sixteen."
He yanks off his gloves. No matter how many times he's done this, he always feels defeated when he hasn't been able to save someone. They did all they could. That's all he can take comfort in. His mouth tastes bitter from the adrenaline.
"You know what's fucked about this?" Mohan asks as she wipes her sweaty brow. "We saved her life ten months ago."
Robby frowns, "Wait, what?"
Samira glances over to the dead woman on the gurney sorrowfully, "She was at Pittfest," She reveals before turning and walking out of the room.
Jesse turns off the monitors and exits, leaving Robby alone with the woman. He looks at her closely, examining her features, but he can't place her. It shouldn't be surprising; they had over a hundred patients that day. Still, he feels like he should remember her. It bothers him that he doesn't. It bothers him more that it feels like she was living on borrowed time. Like maybe she should have died that day, and death has finally caught up to her.
The Pittfest shooting didn't kill her, but Robby adds her name to the list anyway. Someone else he couldn't save.
As he leaves the room, he catches the two consultants standing outside the room. They glance at each other and then begin furiously scribbling notes.
If there was a grey cloud above his head when his shift started, there's a thunderstorm there now.
He's pulled from patient to patient the minute he steps out of trauma two without any time to grab the coffee he's been desperate for all morning. Every time he leaves a room, he hears his name being called, and he's off to the next emergency.
He's thirsty, tired, and wishing he could go back to bed and start this day all over again.
"Here," Dana finds him a couple of hours later. She presses a coffee cup into his hand.
"What would I do without you?" He asks, gulping down half the cup of scalding hot coffee. He doesn't care that it burns his tongue.
"Crash and burn, darlin'," She nudges him in the side, and he shakes his head.
He doesn't get to finish the whole cup. An ambulance pulls up then, and two paramedics wheel in an older gentleman.
"Seventy-five-year-old male, found unconscious in his home when police were called in for a welfare check, dehydrated, possible broken femur, GCS eleven in the field. We've given him fluids, stabilised the leg."
As soon as Robby looks down at the man, he freezes.
"Mr Whitney?"
"You know him?" One of the paramedics asks.
"He's my neighbour," Robby answers as he follows the gurney into Trauma One. As a team, they transfer him from the gurney over to the bed. Perlah immediately starts cutting off his clothing so they can examine him better, whilst Princess hooks up his IV.
He can't help but think about the last time he saw Mr Whitney. It was a few days ago, at least, when he hobbled out of the house to collect his mail. Robby can't help but wonder how long he was on the floor for. As far as he knows, Mr Whitney has no family; there's no one to check in on him, make sure he's okay. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if Robby had dropped by more.
"Mr Whitney, can you hear me?"
He checks Mr Whitney's eyes first, and as the penlight flashes in his eyes, Mr Whitney reacts, shying away from the light.
"Mr Whitney, it's Michael Robinavitch, your neighbour. Can you hear me?"
Mr Whitney's eyes open, unfocused and panicked.
"Whoa," Robby tries to calm the man. "It's okay, you're at the hospital."
Confused and scared, Mr Whitney starts thrashing about in an attempt to get off the bed. Considering his state and his age, Robby is surprised how strong he is and has to push him back onto the bed firmly.
"Soft restraints?" Perlah asks.
"Yeah!" Robby responds as he holds Mr Whitney down. Perlah ties one hand down, but before she can make her way around the bed to tie the other one down, his hand slips out of Robby's grasp.
Robby is too distracted to notice what Mr Whitney grabs. Not until there's a sudden burning sensation in his gut.
Confused, his eyes flick down.
Fuck.
There is a pair of trauma shears sticking out of his belly.
"Oh my God," Perlah looks over with wide eyes as she continues to restrain the elderly man.
He doesn't feel it. There's too much adrenaline coursing through his system. He knows it's only a matter of time.
He steps away from the bed and raises his hands up into the air as he fights the compulsion to yank out the shears himself. He knows better.
Princess grabs some gauze and begins to secure the shears to stop them from moving. Robby hisses as they shift slightly.
"Sorry," she apologises softly.
"Someone please page Dr King and Dr Santos to take over," he croaks out.
He's too focused on the shears sticking out of him to realise someone's gone to get Dana. She rushes through the doors a moment later.
"Oh My God."
"It's not as bad as it looks," Robby tries.
"Let's not play that game," Dana retorts.
He's been standing just a couple of steps away from the bed for a while now, but he knows he needs to get himself to a bed. It won't be long before the shears aren't able to stem the bleeding anymore.
"C'mon, kiddo, Trauma Two just freed up."
Carefully, with Dana supporting him, he gets himself across to the other trauma room and with some more help from Princess and Jesse, he's lifted onto the bed. He groans, the pain steadily increasing as the adrenaline begins to wear off.
"Who do you want?" Dana asks quietly. Most patients don't get to choose their doctor, but Dana gives him the option.
He wants to say Collins, but she's gone. It's only been a couple of weeks since she left after being offered an attending job in an ER in Boston. He's still not used to not seeing her around the department.
"Mohan," He decides.
"Want me to call Jack?"
Robby opens his mouth to say yes when he stops himself. Jack is at home doing whatever the hell he does when he's not working. He doesn't want to disturb him on his day off, not with this. He's not dying. It can wait. His mouth shuts, and he shakes his head.
It's his turn to have his clothes cut off. He watches as Princess cuts away at his scrub top and the shirt underneath. It was one of his favourites, ruined now. Cutting away at his clothes reveals the impalement. It doesn't look too deep, and Robby has seen enough wounds like this over his many years that he's pretty sure it hasn't hit anything vital.
"Oh my God," Mohan exclaims as she walks into the room.
"That seems to be the consensus," Robby jokes. "This'll be quick. Do an ultrasound, pull the shears, stitch me up," he lists out.
"Strange…" She frowns.
"What?"
"I thought you were the patient and I was the doctor?" She says pointedly.
His eyes narrow at her. "Ha ha."
As Samira begins to assess the situation and Princess begins hooking him up for monitoring, his attention drifts to the ED. Through the windows, he watches everything carry on without him. Amongst all the usual hubbub, people begin to stop outside Trauma Two to gawk at their boss on the bed, and he asks Princess to close the curtains. He's not a circus show. Before the curtains close, he spots Withers and Smith, once again very interested in what he's up to.
Perfect. He dreads to think what their report will look like.
As soon as she has the ultrasound going, his eyes flick to the screen.
"Oh, thank God," He mutters.
"Looks clear, no obvious internal bleeding, looks like these can come out."
"Just like I said," He reminds her.
He watches time tick away on the clock on the wall. His meeting with Gloria is in less than an hour, and he can't miss it. He tries not to tap his fingers against the bed impatiently as he's injected with lidocaine. He doesn't want Mohan to think it's a comment on her speed.
Finally, once he can't feel anything, Mohan carefully pulls the shears out. She cleans and checks the wound and then stitches him up.
"Done?" He checks.
"Yep," She answers as she dresses the wound. "You want me to call you a cab?"
"Why would I need a cab?"
"To go home and rest?"
"That's funny."
With gritted teeth, he swings his legs over the bed and climbs off, yanking all the wires off his body at the same time.
"I really think you should-"
"Thanks, Dr Mohan, I'm all good," he quickly interrupts, ending the conversation.
"Fine," she relents, "Just please come find me if the pain increases?"
He salutes her, then turns to Princess. "I've got a spare t-shirt in my bag under the desk, would you mind?"
Robby is the last to enter the meeting room, and Gloria looks relieved when he finally walks in, like she fully expected him to skip it. There was a small part of him that felt like skipping it and blaming his absence on a critical patient.
"Finally, we can get started."
Robby refuses to look across the table at the third attendee. He fixes his attention on Gloria and keeps it there.
He can feel Langdon's eyes on him.
"We are here to facilitate Doctor Langdon's return to work, which we have agreed will be a week from today."
Gloria gets straight to the point, listing out all the conditions that Langdon has agreed to. Regular NA meetings, random drug testing, as well as further drug tests if Robby has any suspicions. All narcotic drug prescriptions will have to be co-signed by an attending.
As she talks, Robby slips his hand under the desk and holds it against the wound. The lidocaine has chosen the worst possible time to begin wearing off. He keeps his expression composed, not revealing anything to Langdon or Gloria. Langdon doesn't need to know, and Gloria will find out eventually when the incident report reaches her desk. Until then, it's none of their business.
Thankfully, the meeting is short. Langdon eagerly signs the agreement Gloria puts down in front of him, and then Robby is free to get out of there. He doesn't hesitate, jumping out of his chair and dashing out of the room despite the stabbing pain he feels every time he moves.
He's already halfway down the hall when he hears Langdon call his name behind him.
"Robby….Robby!"
Robby stops, his shoulders sag, and he turns around just as Langdon has caught up with him.
"What do you want, Langdon?"
"Look, I start back next week. You think we could get coffee or something before then, talk it out?"
"I'm working all week." He lies.
His side throbs.
"After work," Langdon tries desperately.
"What exactly do you think coffee will solve, exactly?"
Landon's eyes are wide and pleading, but it's not working on Robby. Maybe on any other day. Not today, when the pain meds have worn off, a pipe is leaking in his ER, and he has another name from Pittfest to add to the list.
"I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry, I just want things to go back to the way they were," Landgon admits quietly.
"Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that's never going to happen," Robby growls. Anger surges up inside him, and he aims it all at Langdon. "You and I? Our relationship has been irrevocably altered by the choices you made. You can't just expect everyone to pretend like you didn't fuck up."
His words are harsh, he knows, but the words leave his mouth before he can stop himself. Langdon looks like a kicked puppy.
"I will be cordial to you at work, I will ensure you finish your residency with all opportunities afforded to you, but beyond that, there's absolutely nothing to talk about."
Langdon calls after him again, but Robby just walks away.
In the elevator, back down to the ER, his phone buzzes; it's a birthday reminder he set up on his phone a few years ago.
Reminder: Jake's birthday
Fuck, he'd forgotten. It's his eighteenth, too.
He doesn't know if a birthday message from him will be wanted, but he wants Jake to know he's still there for when he does finally come around. He finds his latest message conversation with Jake and sighs at the last few messages. All sent by him, all ignored.
He sends a brief message wishing Jake a happy birthday and presses send. He waits and hopes.
An alert appears on the screen.
! Not delivered
Huh. He tries again. The same thing happens.
Whilst he's trying to figure out what's wrong, he receives a message from Jack.
How did the meeting go?
Robby doesn't respond, just swipes the notification away.
Just as he's trying to send his message for a third time, the elevator doors open into the noisy ER, and he steps out just as Santos is rushing past.
"Oh, hey, Santos."
She slides to a stop, "What's up, boss?"
"You know what it means when a message says not delivered?"
"Means someone's probably blocked you," she responds bluntly. She gives him a curious look. "Who were you trying to message?"
"No one, it doesn't matter," he says quickly. "Go help McKay in triage, will you?"
She shrugs and disappears off to triage. Robby looks back down at the three messages he's tried to send.
Oh. He swallows hard at the realisation. Everyone's been telling him to give Jake time and space, but he's starting to wonder if their relationship is also irrevocably altered. There's only so much rejection he can take. Maybe he should just give Jake what he wants. It's not like he's Jake's father; he made that crystal clear.
When he looks up, Weathers and Smith are staring at him. He's suddenly all too aware that it looks like he's just wasting time on his phone. At this rate, the efficiency they'll be recommending will be getting rid of him.
He pushes the phone into his back pocket and heads back towards the main hub. His stomach growls, and he quickly decides that checking the board can wait five minutes while he checks what leftovers there might be in the fridge in the breakroom.
His head is deep in the fridge when someone clears their throat behind him. He glances back to see who's standing there, and the figure leaning in the doorway casually smiles back at him.
"What are you doing here?"
"Shen needed cover, something to do with a last-minute surprise weekend away. I didn't ask too many questions," Jack replies, pushing away from the doorpost to cross the room.
Robby closes the fridge, and suddenly he's being pressed against it, Jack greeting him with a deep kiss. He tries enjoying a moment of pleasure in an otherwise shitty day, but Jack's hand glides over his wound, and he's able to muffle the pained moan he lets out against Jack's lips.
They step apart when they hear someone enter the room, neither liking too much PDA, especially at work.
"Oh, good!" Samira says as soon as she spots Jack. "I'm glad you called him, you can't get stabbed and pretend like it didn't happen, you know?" She says cheerfully, collecting a protein bar from the cupboard and disappearing out the door immediately after.
Jack's eyes darken.
"You were stabbed?"
"Lightly stabbed," Robby corrects automatically. "With some trauma shears," he adds.
He lifts up the hem of his shirt to show Jack the dressing.
"See? All patched up, walking and talking, barely lost any blood. I'm fine."
"And you didn't think I would be interested to know you were injured at work?"
Robby frowns, not really understanding what the issue is. "I would have mentioned it when I got home. It's not like I can hide the stitches, Jack."
Jack growls, "Sometimes you're so dense, I wonder how you ever made it through medical school."
Robby opens his mouth to respond, but Jack has already turned on the spot and begun walking away.
"Jack!" Robby calls after him, but Jack turns the corner without looking back.
"Fuck," he grumbles under his breath. Now Jack isn't talking to him.
He counts to ten in an attempt to steady himself, then heads back out into the ED, nearly crashing into Mel as he exits the break room.
He quickly puts his hands out to protect his injury, stopping a full-on collision from occurring,
"Oh, Dr King."
"Dr Robby," She replies, stepping back to increase the space between them.
"How's Mr Whitney?"
He can't believe it's taken this long to ask.
"Oh," Her eyes widen, "Brain bleed, we couldn't bring him back."
"Wait," The information takes a moment to sink in. "He died?"
She nods. "I have to get back to my patient in three. Did you need anything else?"
"No, that's all, thanks."
He watches her leave, digesting the news that his neighbour has died. A man he might have been able to save if he'd bothered to check in on him more often.
As the guilt continues to build up inside him, he hears a shriek, followed by a crashing sound and then the sound of rushing water.
He can't see room fourteen from where he's standing, but all the commotion is coming from that direction. Sounds like the leaking pipe finally burst. It's technically his problem. He should rush out there and handle it, but he just can't. It's one more thing on top of every other thing.
As he quietly slips out to the stairwell, he hears Dana calling for him.
"Anyone seen Robby?"
He doesn't turn back.
The concrete floor at the top of the stairwell is cold and hard, but he doesn't care. He sits with his legs out in front of him, his back against the wall. It's quiet on the top floor, as the only use is to access the roof. There's no chance of someone finding him here.
He wasn't prepared for today in the slightest.
From the minute he walked through the doors and Gloria dropped two children in suits to judge his department, it's been one thing after another.
His Pittfest patient, saved then only to die in the same hospital less than a year later.
Getting stabbed with a pair of trauma shears by a man in his seventies, only for him to also die in his ED.
Jake blocking his birthday messages.
The fucking leak turned flood that he swears he's asked maintenance to fix for months.
And Jack, pissed at him for not telling him about the injury. He'd been looking forward to going home and forgetting this day even happened. Now he's not sure Jack wants to be in the same room as him, let alone the same house.
Then there's Langdon. He was awful to Frank. He just caught Robby on the worst possible day at the worst possible time. He thought he was ready to face Langdon again, after what went down that day. He was wrong.
He's physically and emotionally drained, and the thought of still being on shift for another few hours only exhausts him further.
He can't do it. He can't be their leader today. He's done.
He doesn't hear the footsteps, not until a figure comes around the corner.
It's Jack. Of course it is. There's only one person who would know where to find him.
Jack stares at him on the floor for a moment, like he's surprised to see him down there.
"Thought you'd be out on the roof," he finally says.
From his position, Robby pushes open the door, revealing the torrential rain outside.
"I'm having a shit day, but I draw the line at standing out in that," he replies, not meeting Jack's eyes.
"Fair enough."
Jack stares at him for a little longer, then, with a groan, lowers himself to the floor opposite Robby.
"Dana's looking for you, y'know."
Robby doesn't respond.
"Talk to me, Mike."
"God, Jack, I wouldn't know where to start."
Jack shrugs, "The beginning is, you know, usually a good place," he suggests softly.
Robby tells him everything. From being disappointed at doing his handover with Shen instead of Jack, to losing his run-in with Glora, the Pittfest patient, the leaking pipes, not being able to get his caffeine fix or have a proper meal. He tells Jack what it felt like to be stabbed. His guilt over Mr Whitney and finding out Jake has him blocked.
"No wonder you're up here looking like the world has ended," Jack exhales.
Robby sniffs, wipes away an errant tear and feels his throat tighten. He's spent far too much time on the floors of this hospital crying his eyes out.
"I give so much to this place, sometimes it feels like it takes a whole lot more," he admits shakily.
He knows what Jack will say. He needs to finally commit to therapy. They need to take some time off, go sit on a beach or in the woods for a week or two. He needs a hobby outside of work. He's heard it all before, but he's finally ready to listen and take on board all of Dr Abbot's suggestions. That is, as long as Jack has forgiven him.
"I don't like it when you're angry with me."
He feels Jack move, his whole body shuffling across the concrete floor until he's pressed up to Robby's side. He holds his hand out, palm upwards, and Robby takes the olive branch, sliding his fingers through the gaps and squeezing their hands together tightly.
"You understand why I was upset, right?"
"I should have called you."
"We're partners, Mike. I want to know if you've got a fucking splinter in your finger, okay?"
"Yeah."
Jack tugs their linked hands up and presses a kiss to the back of Robby's hand. "How are you feeling right now? Pain-level-wise?"
"Eh, a six, maybe a seven."
"You should go home, get some rest. I'll sort out some painkillers for you before you leave."
"But-"
It's a weak attempt to argue. All he wants to do is go home, climb into bed and forget this day ever happened. The dutiful Emergency Chief in him struggles to let go so easily.
"No buts," Jack pulls them both to their feet. "I'll get security to escort you off the premises if I have to."
"When will you be home?"
It's worse that he has to go home alone. The place will be dark, the bed will be cold.
"It's a swing shift," Jack answers. "I'll see if I can get cover for the last hour or two; someone needs to make sure you're taking your antibiotics," Jack answers, leaning in for a quick kiss.
"C'mon."
He tries to guide Robby back towards the stairs, but Robby stops him, his feet planted solidly on the floor.
"What is it?"
"I was awful to Langdon," He reveals quietly, once again avoiding Jack's eyes as he speaks. "I lashed out at him. Released all my anger on him when all he'd asked for was a chance to talk…I was mean."
"He'll forgive you," Jack answers.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because he wants your forgiveness too, and I think he'll understand if you tell him about your day."
Robby pulls Jack back in, wrapping his arms tightly around his partner. "When did you get so fucking wise?" He mumbles into Jack's neck.
"I've always been this wise," Jack responds. "You just never noticed before."
He was right. The house is dark, and the bed is cold. But he wakes up nine hours later to Jack's warm body curled up behind him, his arm slung protectively across Robby's chest.
They stay in bed far longer than normal, and then when Jack starts to get antsy, they climb in the shower together. Jack checks his stitches afterwards, satisfied with Mohan's work and that there's no inflammation to be concerned about. Back in their bedroom, Jack orders breakfast for the two of them while Robby checks his messages.
There are a few to go through, though most aren't that important. Dana leaves a couple of messages, both checking up on him and reporting that the pipes have been fixed. There's one from Langdon, returning a message Robby sent before crashing the night before and, finally, two messages from Gloria.
The two consultants had an interesting first day, apparently.
He groans, reluctant to read the second message.
They like you, don't ask me why.
Robby grins and puts his phone away. He's not on call for over twenty-four hours. If it's urgent, they know they can contact him through Jack.
"Everything good?" Jack asks, pressing his nose into the sensitive skin behind Robby's ear.
"Everything is perfect," Robby replies, pulling Jack back into bed.