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“if you were a waiting room, i would never see a doctor, i would sit there with my first-aid kit and bleed”
It had been four days, 96 hours, 5760 minutes, 345,600 seconds; Robby had counted every second of it. It had been four days, 96 hours, 5760 minutes, 345,600 seconds; Robby had made a dent in the cheap emergency room chair in the corner. It had been four days, 96 hours, 5760 minutes, 345,600 seconds; Robby hadn’t slept, or eaten, or clocked in — Robby hadn’t moved.
It had been four days, 96 hours, 5760 minutes, 345,600 seconds since the OR was occupied with one of their own. It had been four days, 96 hours, 5760 minutes, 345,600 seconds since Dennis had been life flighted in after a car accident. Nobody could have guessed that, one hour after he left his shift, he’d be rushed in with an abdominal aortic aneurysm, ruptured spleen, four broken ribs, and a pelvic lateral compression fracture at the hands of a drunk driver in the countryside of Saltsburg.
But nobody has taken it harder than Robby has. Robby rubbed his thumb along Dennis’ wrist, following the uneven pulse beneath the skin, the exact same pulse he felt under his gloves on the roof four days ago.
Four days ago, 96 hours ago, 5760 minutes ago, 345,600 seconds ago.
“Everybody, med evac is four minutes out with a severe MVA!” Dana yelled into the already loud department. Everyone shuffled toward her quickly and listened in to her next instructions. “Massive internal bleeding in the field, prep four units of O neg minimum, and listen to Dr. Robby for further instruction.” She gave him a quick smile and ran out to help her nurses’ set the floor.
“Okay then, Santos go make sure OR 1 is clear and stays cleared, we’ll transport straight to the OR. Mel, go get the portable x-ray machine up and running, there’s no time for full imaging. Javadi, please page Garcia and make sure she’s scrubbed. Dr. Mohan, Dr. Langdon I need you with me.” Robby barked out commands. “ And Whitaker… fuck I sent Whitaker home!”
“Okay. Go, go, Dr. Langdon, Dr. Mohan, let’s go med evac is landing any minute now.” Robby pushed the two out into the staircase running up to the roof, with perfect timing.
“26-year-old John Doe, no ID found on person, my team is checking the car. MVA, collision on the left side, no working airbags, blunt force trauma to the abdomen. Hypotensive and tachycardic. Unresponsive in field. Hung one liter of O neg, minimal improvement. Breathing is weak, severe bruising around the ribs, but no sign of pneumothorax. Intubated in-field, SPO2 of 82%. Pupils intact and responsive to light.” The parademics rattled off before handing off the stretcher.
Robby stepped forward to retrieve the patient and get him into the OR. “Got it, thank you. Transfer on 3— 1, 2…” He looked down at the stretcher. That wasn’t a John Doe, it was Whitaker.
“Robby what are you doing man, come on.” Langdon pushed Robby’s hand off the sheet so they could complete the transfer without him.
“It’s…fuck…” Robby’s throat dried up, he stepped back and felt his breathing start to weigh him down. His hands started to shake, he couldn’t get them to stop. The metallic pang of the blood hit his nose and he felt like vomiting. “That’s fucking…” He stared at the stretcher, he stared at Whitaker, the hiss of the ventilator and the beeping of the monitors ringing in his ears. “No… I just… He was just…”
“Robby! Get a move on!” Langdon yelled back, wheeling the stretcher into the elevator with Mohan. He watched Whitaker’s chest rise and fall slow and unevenly under as they wheeled him away. He couldn’t step forward. His body didn’t belong to him anymore. He had spent his life preparing for emergencies, but none of it had prepared him for this.
He had been the one to never shy away from a situation, no matter how bloody and gruesome; that’s why he was good at what he did. He never shied away, nothing was too much for him, but this was never even a possibility in his mind. This was never supposed to happen.
“Fuck!” Robby awoke in a cold sweat, he held his hand to his chest to feel his heart racing. The image of the blood dripping all over the hospital roof burned into his eyes. He looked around for any signs that it was all just a dream, but alas, in front of him Dennis lay with wires and tubing keeping his body alive.
Robby sat in the stiff chair next to Dennis’ bed with a hand on his shoulder, like always. He blinked rapidly to keep the tears in his eyes, but no one else was in the room but them. If there was one person Robby knew he could cry to, it was Dennis, even if he wasn’t conscious.
Tears fell off of his face onto the scratchy linen blankets that covered Dennis, hiding the aftermath of the abdominal blunt force trauma. Robby had once seen someone’s head hanging by the skin of their neck, but the bruising on Dennis’ stomach was a worse sight for him.
“I don’t even know if you can hear me or not, but on the off chance you can, I want to talk to you.” Robby sniffled and brushed Dennis’ hair out of his face gently, readjusting the vent tubing to put less pressure on his cheeks.
“You know, Whitaker, you know you’re my favorite. I have this thing where I don’t tell people I love how much they mean to me until they’re gone, I don’t know how to fix it. I can sit here, and I can tell you, but there’s a chance…” He choked up and wiped the tears off his face, keeping one hand on Dennis. “There’s a chance you don’t wake up, and I don’t know what to do about that.”
He searched and scanned for signs of movement, a sign that he could hear him, but nothing came to avail. “It’s moments like these where I lose my faith, and I’m sure if you were awake, you’d read me off a proverb that I don’t believe in and five fun facts about it. So I guess I’ll try to keep some so you don’t come after me if you wake up. When you wake up.” Robby chuckled and took deep breaths.
He wiped his tears quickly when he heard a knock at the door. “Hey Dr. Robby, I’m just getting a purple, green, and gold top quickly.” Trinity walked into the room and approached them slowly. She put a soft hand on Robby’s shoulder which he melted into. “We’re pulling him off of phenobarbital and propofol, and decreasing the fentanyl dosage to switch to morphine. He should wake up soon, if all goes well.”
He nodded and sniffled, it was a weird feeling. He was never on this side of the conversation, and he was sure those who didn’t know them felt it was weird how much Robby cared.
“He’s gonna pull through, he is one persistent shithead, you know that?” She spoke softly, collecting blood from Dennis’ IV line. Robby sighed, “I hope you’re right.”
She smiled and capped off the tubes. “I’m always right, Dr. Robby. When he wakes up, come find me, and I’ll tell you I told you so…” She laughed and turned around to leave, but not before giving Dennis a soft pat on the shoulder. She hung around at the door frame before turning around to face Robby.
“You know, I think if he’ll wake up to anybody, it’d be you, Robby. Between us, I think Huckleberry’s a bit into you.” Her lips pressed into a thin smile at them before heading off to deliver the blood to the lab.
He chuckled a little, the sound echoing off of the cold white walls. “I really do hope she’s right. Because I did mean what I said, you’ll always be my favorite, Whitaker.”
“and i can wish all that i want, but it won't bring us together”
Robby promised he would stop counting for his own good, but he was more than aware that two agonizing days had passed since he last saw Dennis. It had now been six days, 144 hours, 8640 minutes, 518,400 seconds since the accident. He had gone home, at the request, no at the demand of Jack. Trinity stayed in the room the entire time Robby was gone, just as she had promised. But now he was back, and Dennis was two days off of anesthetic but still not awake. The hope that was once the light at the end of the tunnel felt as if it had fallen behind them.
He was sat in the same flimsy ER chair, hand on Dennis’ arm. “I would sit here for years waiting for you to be ready to wake up, but you have to promise me you’ll wake up. Please.” His voice cracked. His eyes burned, his cheeks were irritated from tears, his throat was drier than the Sahara.
Hot tears fell from his face again, and he pulled his head into his hands. He draped his arm over Dennis’ chest, in a half-assed, hospital bed hug. The warmth of their skin combined in the frigid hospital air. Robby let himself sit there, engulfed in the warmth, completely and wholly overtaken by a new sense of hope in the religion of love.
As he lay there, he felt a hand move and weakly wrap over his. He wiped his face and looked up to see open eyes staring at him. He broke out into a smile and started crying again before calling Jack to extubate.
“What happened?” Dennis’ voice was hoarse and low. “You were in a car accident, Whitaker. You suffered an abdominal aortic aneurysm and ruptured spleen, you received five units of blood and a partial splenectomy. We also had to set all four ribs on your left side, and a compression fracture on the left side of your pelvis. All surgeries went well, but you’ll be very sore. We had you medically comatose for six days; it’s Sunday, the 9th, today. You’re coming off of fentanyl onto a morphine drip.” Jack rattled off, pushing more pain medication and shutting the vent down.
Dennis sat in shock before feeling his internal injuries hit him all at the same time. “Fuck!” He screamed out in pain, doubling over and holding his stomach. Jack pushed another 5 of morphine, but Dennis didn’t seem to notice. “Make it stop! Fuck make it stop!” He cried out, and held his stomach tight.
“Whitaker, I’ve already given you three doses of morphine…” Jack started, “I don’t care! Do something, put me back out!” Dennis cut him off.
Robby stepped to the med cart, and pulled out a vial quietly. He slipped behind Jack and injected it straight into the IV port. Within thirty seconds, Dennis had calmed down, eyes falling sleepily.
Jack looked behind him and pulled Robby away, “What the fuck did you give him?” He yelled out.
Robby rolled his eyes and handed Jack the empty bottle. “2 of Dilaudid, he was going to pass out from the pain, and you weren’t going to do it.” Jack grabbed the bottle and rubbed his temple in irritation. “
You’re correct, I wasn’t going to do it because he’s already had fentanyl and morphine. May I remind you Dr. Robinvitch that this isn’t your case? You are too emotionally invested in this.”
Robby chuckled coldly and walked back toward Dennis, leaving Jack by the door. “You can remind me, and I’ll remind you to go fuck yourself, Dr. Abbott.” Jack sighed deeply and turned around to leave; he knew there was no point in fighting.
“Robby…” Dennis croaked out. Robby sat back down in his chair and smiled at him. “Yes?” He asked. “I want to go home.” Robby chuckled softly and laid his hand on Dennis’. “Get through tomorrow night, and we can look at discharge paperwork. You know, don’t tell her I told you, but I hear Dr. Santos was getting lonely without you.”
A small smile flashed across his face. “Were you?” Robby choked on the air, and started looking around frantically, “What? I’m never lonely! It’s not- well I’m- it’s- whatever. Get some sleep Whitaker.” Dennis chuckled at Robby’s face, red flushing up his neck. “Sure… goodnight Dr. Robby.” Dennis whispered low before closing his eyes and letting his body fall to the exhaustion.
Robby looked at him with admiration filling his eyes and thoughts, his mind flooded with words he wanted to tell him but all that came out was “‘Night Whitaker.”
“plus, i know whatever happens to me, i know it's for the better”
Robby had tried to work the next two days as normal, but there was something within him pulling him toward Whitaker’s room. He should have been in the ICU, but there were no beds open, so as always, the pit kept him until a bed opened. He brushed it off every time Dana asked why he spent so much time in the room, “I’m the senior attending, it’s my job to oversee all cases in the department.” To which she sighed in disbelief at and let it go. Everyone knew.
He thought that the relief of Dennis waking up would allow his mind to stop counting, but it didn’t. It had now been eight days since he was on the roof. Eight days, 192 hours, 11,520 minutes, 691,200 seconds. He wondered if he would ever stop counting, if he would be on an internal stop watch from the moment his world almost ended.
He peered in through the window and saw Dennis sat up in bed eating what he thought to be lunch, or at least whatever the hospital called lunch. He gently knocked on the door and walked in, “Is that what we’re feeding patients?” Robby joked pointing to the tray with a styrofoam cup of chicken broth and a suspicious looking tuna sandwich.
Dennis looked up, and a big smile spread across his face. “I guess so, it’s not terrible when you’re coming back from almost dying.” He said, sipping on the broth. “Oh? I’ve never tried it after a near-death experience.” Robby walked forward and sat down in that same plastic chair next to his bed. “Much better, you should try it sometime.” Dennis laughed, Robby couldn’t hide his smile.
They locked eyes and the tension grew, the weight of the situation hadn’t fully processed in Dennis’ mind just yet.
“So… Dr. Robby…” He stretched out his name. Robby upheld his smile and put his hand where it belonged— on Whitaker’s shoulder. “Yes?” He questioned.
“Trinity told me everything. Why did you stay?” He asked. Robby froze. The words froze in the air, the room air felt thick, Robby could feel his heart start to race in his chest with Whitaker’s eyes planted on him, observing every move he made.
“Every- everything?” Robby asked, because surely she hadn’t told him everything. Dennis’ head tilted a little to the side in confusion, was there more than what she had told him?
“She told me that you stayed the entire time, for four days straight.” 96 hours, 5760 minutes, 345,600 seconds Robby thought. But he couldn’t let him know how precisely he had counted the milliseconds he was worried they might have been separated by grim fate.
Robby unconsciously started to chew on the insides of his cheeks, he didn’t respond. He wasn’t embarrassed, he was scared. There was no way to explain why he did all he did that would keep the workplace relationship appropriate, but more importantly, he didn’t see any way to explain it that Whitaker would understand. He didn’t want to confuse him, he didn’t want to throw him into the deep end of his misplaced feelings days after he had almost died; it didn’t seem fair.
“Robby…?” He spoke in a questioning tone. “Why did you stay?” Robby knew he was getting into muddy territory, he thought about getting up and leaving, but he couldn’t stand the thought of detaching his hand from Dennis’ shoulder.
“Whitaker, what’s important right now is that you rest.” He rubbed his back quickly before getting up and walked toward the door.
“No! No, answer me, Robby.” He demanded, sitting up taller in bed despite the pain shooting into his abdomen. Robby looked back while fidgeting with his hands, he opened his mouth but quickly closed it and flashed a small smile, walking out the door, leaving Whitaker behind in his room.
Three agonizing hours had passed before Robby returned to the hall that held Whitaker’s room. He had been avoiding it at all costs. He grappled with his messy thoughts the entire time. He didn’t want this to distract Dennis from recovering, but he also didn’t want him to think that he didn’t care, because he did, he did very much so. But Robby found no good way to portray that message without letting the whole department know he had fallen in love with his silly, 26-year-old, medical student. And that couldn’t happen.
The minute he passed Dennis’ room, he heard him yelling out to him. “Robby! Come here!” His voice was softer and quieter than all others in the ER, but it was the one that stuck out the most to Robby. He gave a quick glance through the room window and met his eyes, big, brown, pleading. Fuck. He knew it probably wasn’t the best idea, but he ended up back in Dennis’ room in that shitty chair.
“You walked out earlier, you never answered me, answer my question.” He immediately started grilling Robby. “Whitaker, I- I just can’t answer it.” Dennis’ face flushed red, and he pushed Robby’s hand away off of him.
“No, you don’t want to. Robby, tell me, because right now I don’t know what to think.” The frustration started to sink into his voice.
“I just, I just can’t-” Dennis cut him off, voice growing louder by the moment. “Yes you can! Yes the fuck you can! Because right now, I’m sitting here after almost dying and the only thing that I can fucking think about is why the fuck you sat here for four days straight!” 96 hours, 5760 minutes, 345,600 seconds.
Robby scooted back in his chair, unconsciously wanting to run and hide. “Whitaker, come on now, that’s not fair…” He trailed off, but it didn’t matter if he wanted to say more, Dennis wasn’t going to let him.
That’s not fair? I’m asking you a question Robby, what’s not fair is that I just got back from knocking on death’s door and all I can think about is you!” His eyes went wide, and he slapped a hand to his mouth. “Fuck, that’s not… I didn’t mean- It doesn’t matter. Answer my question Robby.”
Robby got up from his chair and walked toward the door again, but hung back with one hand on the door frame before leaving. “You’re my student Whitaker, it’s my job to oversee you. It was just my job, don’t think too hard about it.” He lied through his teeth, he knew it, Whitaker knew it, everyone in the damn hospital knew it.
“Your job? That’s your lie?” His words punched Robby straight in the gut, he felt his breathing constrict, he felt his heart ache when their eyes met. “It’s not a lie.” He lied, of course. “It was strictly one of my professional duties.” Dennis’ eyes saddened, even if he could read through the lies, because why was he lying in the first place?
“Okay. Whatever. Thank you for your duties, Dr. Robinavitch.” Dennis spat out, watching Robby dig his nails into the metal door frame. Robby didn’t look back, he could feel the tears welling in his eyes, he could feel the guilt starting to eat through his stomach, he could feel the heartache tightening his chest.
Robby wouldn’t look back. He couldn’t. He wanted more than anything to turn around and tell him everything, but he couldn’t. The room smelled of purple top wipes and something like regret.
“But Robby,” Dennis whispered, and it wasn’t anger anymore. It wasn’t anything like earlier. “If it was just your job to check in on me…”
He paused, breathing shallow, ribs screaming.
“I just don’t know why you stayed for me.”
Robby quickly shut the door and walked out into the hallway, frantically looking for somewhere to go that wasn’t Dennis’ room. He took a sharp right to the nearest empty room and slammed himself down on the floor, tears spilling over onto the floor.
He looked around to put together his surroundings to ground himself, but it did the exact opposite as soon as he took in the bright patterned wallpaper and small hospital bed. The painted animals on the walls stared deep into his soul.
He had ended up in fucking pedes.
“know it's for the better. no, it's for the better”
It had been two days since Robby ventured back into Dennis’ room. Ten days, 240 hours, 14,400 minutes, and 864,000 seconds. But it’s not like he was counting.
“Thought I’d never see you again…” Dennis’ voice was substantially less scratchy than before, he didn’t look fixed by any means, but he was miles away from flirting with death as he had been.
Robby took as small steps as he could until he reached the same shitty hospital chair to take a seat. He folded his hands together and took a deep breath, breathing in the look of Whitaker safe again.
“Yeah, about that… I wanted to talk, that is if you want to. It can wait until you’re better if you want.” Robby assured, even though he was pretty sure if he held this in until Dennis was better, he might end up back in pedes. But then again, he himself was never his main priority.
“All I want to do is talk to you.” Dennis’ eyes shot up, if he was physically able to jump up out of bed, he would have. The enthusiasm in his voice scared Robby, he felt his core rattle, terrified at the opportunity to be honest.
“You know, you’re still pretty hurt, and I shouldn’t be taking up your energy. I’ll just check up on you tomorrow…” Robby went to stand up and walk right back out that door until he felt a harsh grip on his wrist.
“Are you fucking serious? Sit back down.” Dennis raised his voice, and for some reason Robby couldn’t say no. It kind of pissed him off, he loved saying no to people, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He sat back down.
“Whitaker… I’m sorry.” Robby’s eyes glossed over, and it wasn’t lost on him that Dennis’ hand had never fully left his wrist.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re sorry about? Or why you stayed for four days, or why you ran away from me, or why you’re being so goddamn ambiguous? Do I get to know any of that?” Whitaker was starting to get angry, his grip on Robby’s wrist tightened.
Robby stayed silent, his mind rushing a million miles an hour, his heart rate venturing into tachycardic territory. Tears welled in his eyes and he couldn’t find the strength within him to run away, he could only recognize the tender warmness of Whitaker’s skin on his.
“Robby, you don’t have to be scared.” His tone softened, and his words were so soft they barely reached Robby’s ears. Robby’s head spun, he went to speak up in protest, but Dennis preemptively cut him off “Not with me.” And Robby didn’t seem to have any argument toward the addition.
“Six days, 144 hours, 8640 minutes, 518,400 seconds.” Robby whispered. His voice was hoarse from the lump growing in his throat. As soon as he heard the words that he had muttered, he couldn’t keep his tears away. But for some reason, he didn’t wipe them away, he didn’t feel like he needed to.
“What?” Dennis’ head cocked to the side.
“Six days, 144 hours, 8640 minutes, 518,400 seconds. That’s how long you were out.” Robby breathed out the numbers like it was second nature — because it was.
“Oh.” was all Dennis could respond with.
Robby let the tears run down his face, his voice cracked with every word, but he was engulfed in a state of vulnerability that Dennis’ presence made feel safe. “I counted every second that you were out, I never stopped counting because…” He could see the tears welling in Dennis’ eyes, following after him. “Because what if you didn’t wake up? I counted to preserve the time I had with you.”
Dennis tightened his grip on Robby, letting the warmth of their skin heat the air around them. “Robby…” He could feel the simple reflex, Robby melting into his touch.
“I think I care more than I should. I’m scared of how much I care about you. It’s unprofessional.” Robby had never said that aloud before. Saying it, speaking it, especially in front of him, made it realer than it had ever felt before. And that was fucking terrifying.
“Maybe it is unprofessional. But it’s also human. We’re humans first, Robby.”
Robby knew he had a habit of disregarding his own humanity, but when it came to acknowledging Whitaker’s, he was more than apt to notice. Robby knew himself as a machine, technological, methodical, correct. He always figured the closest he could adhere to this ideation of himself, the less human he could be, the better.
But Dennis Whitaker, he was anything but machine-like. He was the most compassionate, humanity driven person Robby knew. The way he interacted with people, the way he had a way of hearing every conversation, the way his eyes told his deepest emotions without fail. So if anyone was going to have a say on what was human, it was Whitaker. So Robby diverted from his meticulous, perfected, methodical thoughts, and he believed him.
He was also a human.
“You know, I don’t know if I would have woken up as quickly as I did had you not been there. You gave me something to fight for; I fought for you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had left. I was more scared about you leaving than of dying. So forgive me if I don’t have the capacity to give a shit about professionalism in this moment.”
Whitaker reached his weak hand up toward Robby’s head and pulled him in closer. He held their foreheads together, as if the action could meld their minds, as if they could combine their persons. Robby trembled under his touch, he could feel their breaths combine in the frigid hospital air, god, he could feel Dennis’ breath on his mouth. He could feel his heartbeat venturing into a rhythm that would put him on an ECG for a couple hours of observation.
“Whitaker, I’m not leaving.” Robby breathed out just above a whisper through the tightness of his chest. Dennis chuckled, the motion moving the both of them, raising a small smile onto Robby’s face through the dried tears of earlier.
“You’d better not be, dipshit.” Whitaker chucked out, taking his hand to Robby’s face and taking in his first genuine smile in ages.
He picked his other arm up and roped both of them around Robby, humming in quiet contentment as he plopped his head down on Dennis’ chest, rising and falling with his breaths.
“This was an extremely long-winded and dramatic way to confess your undying love for me, Dr. Robby…” Dennis teased, brushing his hand through Robby’s salt and pepper hair, making sure the IV line didn’t catch.
“Oh shut up.” Robby half-heartedly laughed out, his face immediately turning beet red. He hid his face into Dennis’ chest and was overwhelmed by the feeling of him, the scent of him, the sight of him, just him. Their laughter intertwined in the bitter air, filling the room with something like hope, something bright, something worth living in the moment—not counting to.
So, Robby stopped counting. He didn’t need to anymore.