Chapter Text
The clock blares into life, displaying “6AM”. Whitaker takes a deep breath before punching it into silence and hauling himself out of bed. Another 12-hour shift.
He exhales again as he reaches the bathroom to get ready. He pauses in front of the mirror for his daily “reflection”, which Santos calls it. To make fun of him, obviously.
“Right, Whitaker”, He says quietly “, You’ve got this. You are a doctor. You know what you are doing. You’re not gonna make any mistakes today.”
He hesitates and adds, “Especially not in front of Dr Robby.” He looks himself dead in the eye as if daring to disagree with himself. 6AM and he’s already losing it.
As if preparing for a boxing match, Whitaker starts slapping his face. “Ok. Okay. Okaaaay”
“Shut the fuck up, Huckleberry”, Santos calls from the other side of the wall.
“Shit sorry Trin” " he calls back sheepishly. Embarrassed and feeling a lot less ready for the shift than when he started, he got dressed and left for the bus.
Whitaker slips through the broken hospital doors and gathers with the other doctors ready to be handed over last night's patients.
Whitaker, of course, catches Dr Robby’s eye almost immediately. He greets him with a familiar smile, his arms folded in his signature pose.
Whitaker stares a little too long to notice the extra lines furrowing his brow, as well as the shadows under his eyes.
He frowns and without much thought, heads to the staff room and starts making Dr Robby a coffee; black, one sugar.
Whitaker waddles over to Robby, now feeling a little embarrassed that he made one without even asking if he wanted one.
Robby notices him hovering and, without missing a beat, says, “That for me?”
Whitaker smiled sheepishly, “yeah”, and handed it over.
Their fingers only brushed briefly, but Whitaker felt a rush of electricity dance up his hand at the touch.
Whitaker then retreated to the nurses' station to wait for handover, feeling far more flustered than he should be.
The machine that is the emergency department starts pumping as Whitaker and Dr Robby start working up their patients.
Dana is stood at the nurses' station barking orders as usual, making sure her machine is staying well and truly oiled.
Whitaker will do anything to avoid her wrath, out of simultaneous respect and fear.
“I need 10 more ET tubes from storage. Whitaker, grab em for me will ya?” Dana shouted across the ED floor.
Whitaker, already holding mountains of paperwork and lab results, dropped everything to go grab them.
As soon as he’d left, the phone rang, and Dana answered swiftly. She scribbled some notes before turning to Robby.
“Robby, I got two traumas coming in, trauma 2 and 3 are open, but I got no tubes for em”.
“Got it”, He exclaimed, already moving to the storage room.
“Wait, I already sent- heck never mind,” Dana gave up as she watched him disappear.
Robby reached the closet and stepped inside to see Whitaker on his tiptoes, clearly failing to reach the top shelf.
“What do you need?” Robby’s voice behind Whitaker made him jump and knock into the shelves.
“Ow… um, the ET tubes, I don't know why they put them so high up haha” Whitaker tries to make a joke to ease his own nerves with Dr Robby being so close to him in the confined closet space.
“No problem”
Robby steps closer. Too close. He reaches above Whitaker's head, his chest almost grazing Whitaker's face.
A face that is now definitely red. Whitaker is now praying that Dr Robby won’t notice in the dingy light of the closet.
As if stunned, Whitaker stares resolutely at Robby’s chest.
“Got two traumas coming in, look alive Whitaker” Robby then grips Whitaker's shoulder and steers him back to the ED floor.
The sirens of the ambulance parking into their bay signalled they’d both arrived. They charge through the door speaking as they go.
“I got 2 car RTC, lady got T boned at a junction. Mum took the brunt of the impact. Had her 9 year old boy in the back with minor injuries. All others are walking wounded. Mum here has possible rib fractures and injury to her right thigh. Obs stable for now”
“I’ll take the paed you take mum”, Robby called, pointing at a bay for him to go into.
Whitaker looked over to his patient. A young 22 year old with blond, messy hair and slightly worn clothes.
“I’m not his mum, I’m his sister by the way. My name's Jenna”, she shifted and winced as she said it.
“Jenna, no worries, we’ll take care of you and your brother. We’ll do some checks on you, give you some of the strong stuff, then get you off to x-ray” Whitaker smiles professionally at her.
“No-no, I’m good, it doesn’t hurt that much” She avoided eye contact as she said it.
“You sure? Rib fractures are extremely painful and it will help with your breathing.” Whitaker asked, puzzled at her refusal.
“I’m sure, I have 4 siblings and I can’t be…” she shifts uncomfortably “out of it.”
“I’m sure your parents-“ Whitaker started.
“No- I take care of them," she cut in quickly.
Whitaker paused and decided not to press the subject. He knew the responsibility of having siblings to take care of.
Whitaker leaned down and placed his hand on hers, speaking softly. “Okay, how about after the X-Ray we chat some more about your pain and in the meantime, I can get you regular old paracetamol. But if you start to struggle with your breathing, I’m gonna have to give you something stronger alright?” He smiles kindly.
Jenna thinks for a moment before saying, “Okay… I trust you doctor.”
Whitaker smiles at her before leaving the room to go order the X-rays.
Whitaker's next patient was a bloody one. He always gets the bloody ones. And after draining an entire family of abscesses off a man, he was rather pleased with himself.
Humming to himself, Whitaker is striding across ED to the trusty clinical waste bin, tray of blood balanced at the hip.
What Whitaker didn’t see was Robby stepping into his path.
Nor the bright yellow wet floor sign, warning of the freshly mopped floor.
Suddenly, Whitaker feels his feet slipping under him. The tray does cartwheels in the air, blood spilling everywhere.
As the world goes sideways, Whitaker braces himself to slam into the cold, wet floor.
Instead, firm hands grip onto his waist, steadying him.
Hands that belonged to Robby. Who was now inches away from him, their bodies pressing together.
Air leaves Whitaker as he can only think of Robby’s body heat against him and his strong arms around his waist.
“You okay?” He asks. Both of them straightened up slightly, but Robby’s hands didn’t leave Whitaker's waist.
Becoming acutely aware of the number of people staring, Whitaker feels his cheeks burning. “Thanks”, he said, not daring to move while Robby’s hands still remained on him.
Robby leans in, “Be careful”, he says in a low and soft voice. His hands linger a second longer than necessary before stepping back.
Whitaker watches him walk away. Embarrassment flooded him, but he couldn’t help a stray thought from surfacing.
Maybe I should fall more.
He shakes the thought from his head, glancing down at the red splashed across his scrubs.
Perfect.
The shift ticked away as ED became busier and busier. Even in fresh scrubs, Whitaker finds himself rushing around perhaps more than usual, trying to get the events of his encounters with Robby off his mind.
Whitaker can feel Robby's eyes on him as he works. It made him feel exposed, like he couldn't mess up.
His paperwork shook in his hands. He tightened his grip, willing it to stop.
“I will Dana,” echoed across ED in a sharper tone than he meant to. He saw Robby’s raised eyebrow out of the corner of his eye.
“Sorry-sorry. I’m just swamped Dana”, he quickly corrected.
“It’s okay kid”, Dana said understandingly before moving on to another task.
Whitaker quickly scurries off, trying to avoid Robby’s eye.
Whitaker hadn’t always known he was diabetic. Mostly owing to his upbringing in remote Nebraska. Farmers don’t exactly know what the words "pancreas" and "insulin" mean. So when he was diagnosed in college, it came as quite a surprise to the family. So by the time he was diagnosed, his symptoms became background noise. Because they had to.
Symptoms, a seasoned Doctor like Robby can notice with his eyes closed.
As Whitaker whizzed across the nurses’ station, Robby called over, “Hey kid, there's donuts in the staff lounge, go grab one”.
“Uhh.. yeah sure. I will later,” Whitaker said, not meeting Robby’s eye.
“They’ll be gone by then. Go now.”
Whitaker, oblivious to Robby's attempts, had already started walking away towards the ambulance bay.
“After I work up this new admit,” Whitaker said, already moving away. Whitaker thought he heard Robby sigh as he turned the corner.
Whitaker was preparing to do a cannula when Robby silently entered the room. He’d decided to follow him.
Why had he done that?
As Whitaker held the needle up to the patient's arm, his hands betrayed him.
Get it together Whitaker. Not in front of Robby. Fuck.
“You got it, Whitaker?” Robby calls from behind, making Whitaker jump slightly.
“Oh uh yeah.. yeah it's just a cannula I got it.”
Despite it being cool, a bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
As Whitaker inserted the needle, it was very clear that it had not worked.
His hands felt slick with sweat. Whitaker feels a pit in his stomach before he tries again. He had not found a vein, and even after withdrawing the needle and trying a few more times, it was obvious it wasn’t happening.
Maybe one more go…
“Ow..dude!” the patient shouted above him. This snapped Whitaker back to reality. Whitaker froze and immediately pulled back.
“I’m- I’m so sorry sir,” his voice cracked.
He glanced over his shoulder, “I’m sorry,” quieter now, his eyes looking to Robby.
Whitaker felt flustered now. Sweat now clinging to his scrubs.
Robby’s voice then cut through the air.
“We’re very sorry sir, that cannula hasn’t worked, so another colleague will be here in a moment to take your blood. Sorry for the inconvenience”, Robby recited calmly and professionally.
Suddenly, Whitaker felt firm, steady hands on both his shoulders, steering him out of the room, all the way to the staff lounge.
“What- why are we-” Whitaker started.
“Sit.”
Whitaker did. He was expecting a lecture, disappointment, to be scolded for messing up such a simple task.
Instead, a chocolate bar landed in his lap.
“Eat, you’re obviously low,” Robby said matter of factly.
The words felt like a slap to the face. Whitaker clumsily took out his phone and checked his sugar levels. Beep. It flashed up low.
Whitaker sank back into the chair, shame crashing over him. Right about now, he was wishing the world would swallow him up.
Of course he was low. Idiot. And Robby of all people noticed and he probably now thinks-
Robby cleared his throat, bringing him out of his spiral.
Robby's chest rose; he looked as if some speech on diligence, duty, and health was coming.
He paused as he really looked at Whitaker. The words then appeared to die in his throat.
He rubbed his face again, “Look, you've just got to try and keep on top of your sugars and keep eating dammit. We need you out there.”
Whitaker looked up, throat tight, vision blurring that had nothing to do with his sugars.
He nodded quietly, “Yes, Dr Robby”.
Robby placed his hand on his shoulder and patted. His touch lingered before Robby cleared his throat and left the room.
Whitaker tried to pick himself up and continue the shift as normal, but a cloud of undeniable anxiety hung over him as he worked.
He threw himself back into his work to distract himself. He felt jittery and on edge but pushed through the feeling.
“What's the status on my patient in uh… two?” Whitaker said, trying to get his bearings.
“Your RTC lady?” the nurse types for a moment before showing Whitaker the screen, “Yeah, so two fractures to the left ribs and nothing to the thigh.”
“Okay, no worries. Has she wanted anything else for the pain?” Whitaker asked, eyes scanning the X-ray results.
“Nope, still refusing. But honestly, I’m getting a bad vibe. I think she's struggling to breathe a bit more than she’s letting on,” the nurse said, a hint of concern in her voice.
A pit settled in Whitaker's stomach.
“Thanks, I’ll check on her,” Whitaker said before leaving the nurses' station.
Whitaker paused just outside the patient's room to look at paperwork when he felt a tug at the edge of his scrubs.
“What-” he said as he looked to see what was pulling at him.
He looked down. A little boy stood there, blonde hair almost white under the harsh ED lights, staring up at him with wide eyes.
“Oh, hey buddy”, Whiter crouched down to match the little boy's height.
“When can we go home sir? My sister said she’s okay, so can we go home and sleep now?”
“That's your big sister?” he gestured to his patient's room.
The boy nods.
“So we can go home right?” He looked up hopefully.
Whitaker hesitated, struggling to find the words, “Uh yeah… soon buddy,” he looked around, trying to grab help.
“Dana!” he called. “Not sure if he's been medically discharged or not but this is the little brother of my patient in two, can you see what's going on with him?”
“No problem Kid, “Dana called out.
“Alright little man. Let's grab you a snack while we check on your sister.” Dana said before steering the kid away.
A small smile tugged at his mouth as he saw him leaving.
Still smiling, he pushed open the patient's door.
“Jenna, your brother’s so cute by the way-” Whitaker started before his eyes landed on his patient.