Chapter Text
The on-call room was too quiet.
Hospitals never truly slept, but at this hour the noise dulled into a low hum monitors beeping in the distance, a cart rolling softly down a hallway, the muted shuffle of nurses’ shoes. In the small, dim space that Jack Abbot had claimed for the night, there was only the sound of his own even breathing and the slow tick of the wall clock.
He wasn’t used to sleeping at the hospital. Army habit meant he usually preferred his own bed, his own routines. But tonight, after three back-to-back traumas, his leg aching and too stiff to trust on a drive, he’d let Robby talk him into crashing on the thin cot in the corner.
“Only fair,” Robby had said earlier, yawning but still wired. “If I’m stuck here overnight, you’re stuck with me.”
Jack had rolled his eyes but relented.
Now, sometime past 3 a.m., Jack stirred. He wasn’t sure what woke him at first. Then he heard it, an odd, muffled sound from across the room.
He pushed up on one elbow, squinting into the dark. Robby lay curled on the other cot, tangled in his blanket, his long legs twitching restlessly. His breath came in sharp bursts, shallow and panicked. A broken, stifled cry escaped his throat.
“Robby?” Jack’s voice was rough from sleep but gentle.
There was no answer. Robby’s head jerked against the pillow, his fists clenching. The sheets twisted tighter around him as he kicked, caught in some invisible struggle.
Jack swung his legs over the side of his cot, the prosthetic landing heavily on the tile with a muted clink. He winced at the sound, then forced himself up, moving carefully despite the ache in his knee.
“Hey. Robby. Wake up.” Jack crouched at his side, one hand hovering before he dared touch. He’d seen this before plenty of soldiers haunted by things they couldn’t put down but seeing it on Robby’s face gutted him in a way he hadn’t expected.
Robby thrashed, a strangled word tearing from him: “Stop—please—don’t—”
Jack’s chest clenched. Slowly, deliberately, he set a steady hand on Robby’s shoulder. “It’s me. You’re safe. Come on, brother. Wake up.”
Robby jerked harder, eyes still closed, caught deep in the nightmare. Jack tightened his grip, keeping his voice calm but firm. “Robby. You’re not there. You’re here. With me. Just open your eyes.”
It took another agonizing moment, but finally Robby’s lashes fluttered. His eyes snapped open, wild and unfocused, pupils blown wide with fear. He gasped like he was drowning, sitting bolt upright.
“Easy.” Jack steadied him, guiding him upright but anchoring him to reality. “Easy, breathe. In. Out. Right here with me.”
Robby’s chest heaved, his hands clawing at the blanket like he couldn’t get free. Sweat dampened his curls, sticking to his forehead.
“It wasn’t real,” Jack said softly, his voice low and grounding. “Just a nightmare. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Robby blinked rapidly, his breath hitching. “It—” His voice cracked. “It felt—real. Like I was—back there.”
Jack didn’t ask what “there” meant. He just shifted onto the cot beside him, one arm slipping around Robby’s trembling frame. The older man resisted for a heartbeat before collapsing against him, fists still clenched tight against his chest.
Jack held him steady, his hand rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. “I know. I know how real it feels. But it’s not happening now. You’re safe.”
Robby pressed his face into Jack’s shirt, shuddering. “It doesn’t stop,” he whispered. “No matter what I do, it doesn’t stop.”
Jack’s throat tightened. He knew that feeling too well—the way trauma replayed itself like a film reel you couldn’t pause, ambushing you when you least expected it.
“You’re not alone in this,” Jack said, steady but fierce. “I’ve been there. Woken up drenched, convinced I was still under fire. Thought I’d never shake it. But you’re not alone, Robby. Not anymore.”
Robby’s breathing hitched again, but the fight drained out of him. His body sagged against Jack, every muscle trembling with leftover adrenaline.
For a long while, they just sat there. Jack kept his hand on Robby’s back, grounding him with touch and silence. The clock ticked. The hospital hummed. Slowly, Robby’s breath steadied into something less frantic, though his grip on Jack’s shirt never loosened.
When he finally spoke, it was hoarse, almost ashamed. “You shouldn’t have to… deal with me like this.”
Jack huffed softly, brushing damp curls from his forehead. “You think you’re the first person I’ve sat with through a nightmare?”
Robby shifted, his voice muffled against Jack’s chest. “You didn’t sign up for this.”
“Yes, I did,” Jack countered quietly. “Maybe not on paper, but I did. The day I agreed to work with you, to work here. You’re part of the deal, Robby. All of it. The genius, the chaos, the nightmares.”
That finally earned a weak laugh, watery around the edges.
Jack let him settle, holding steady until the trembling ebbed away. When Robby finally lifted his head, his eyes were red-rimmed but clearer.
“Better?” Jack asked.
Robby nodded, then grimaced. “Sorry if I—kicked. Or, um, yelled. Or—”
Jack gave him a look. “Robby. Stop apologizing. You had a nightmare. That’s it.”
“…Right.” Robby tried to sit back, but Jack’s arm stayed firm until he was sure the older man wasn’t about to topple over again.
“You’re not going back to sleep alone tonight,” Jack added.
Robby blinked. “What—?”
Jack shifted, ignoring the twinge in his leg, and stretched out on the narrow cot, tugging Robby back against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Lie down. If it happens again, I’ll wake you before it gets that far.”
For a second, Robby looked torn between embarrassment and gratitude. Then exhaustion won. He let himself lean back, curling slightly toward Jack, who adjusted the blanket around both of them.
In the dark, with the steady rhythm of Jack’s breathing beside him, the tension finally began to bleed from Robby’s shoulders.
“You’re not alone,” Jack murmured again, softer this time.
And for the first time in weeks, Robby believed it enough to drift back to sleep.