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Being a doctor sucks.
Being an ER doctor? That sucks double.
Seriously, who the hell thinks specializing in Emergency Medicine is a good idea? It’s the only field where the stream of patients never dries up, where cases range from impacted earwax to a high-voltage burn victim you know isn't going to make it...
Strokes that are six hours past the window, household accidents involving every utensil imaginable, diseases that have been waving red flags for months but don't walk through the door until it's too late.
Yeah, the ER is shit. Why does anyone choose this?
That was the question Robby asked himself on his first day rotating here, and the same one he asks every time he fails to save a life. Which is to say, at least once a day.
"Lately, this is becoming a routine. Should I be worried about that?"
Robby closed his eyes, frustrated at the sound of the voice behind him. Shift change wasn't for another hour—why was Abbot here?
The silence stretched out just long enough for his friend to lean against the railing beside him.
"I thought you were taking your four days off this week. What happened to that?"
"Gloria," Robby answered instantly, as if her name explained everything. "She’s had me organizing a meeting with the other departments for emergency crisis protocols all week. The new attendings, like Shen, needed to be briefed."
He opened his eyes, taking in the beautiful Pittsburgh sunset lights. He’d always thought that if he ever had to leave this mortal coil, that view was the last thing he wanted burned into his memory.
"They don't even let us enjoy the small victories in peacetime," he heard Abbot sigh wearily beside him, letting the silence reign again for a few seconds. "Heard anything from Dana?"
Unconsciously, the corner of his mouth quirked up into a fond smile at his friend's name.
"No, but I hope she’s doing better than I am, that’s for sure," he shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning back slightly. "Though I give it a week. I wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to come back. She’s put up with a lot of shit."
Robby thought about Dana. About how nurses carried the weight of the system, invisible beneath the doctors' egos, taking the patients' screaming and complaints just as much, if not worse. It discredited the massive effort every staff member made just to show up and help, even on their bad days.
"Just like us," his friend finished heavily. "Will we ever find more reasons to keep coming here?"
The question drew a dry, humorless laugh from him. "Is there even one?" he questioned ironically, finally turning around to lean against the railing, burying his face in his hands. "I feel like every passing day is the universe trying to test me, just to see how much more I can take."
And the thing is, it never gets easier.
It didn't matter how many years he’d spent in the ER dealing with hopeless cases. He refused to accept his mistakes, even when he hadn't made any.
The memory of Jake came rushing back, blaming him for his girlfriend's death. It was fair; he couldn't save her. He didn't deserve words of comfort in the face of the truth. Just like the death of his old mentor, for whom he could do absolutely nothing.
"Did you call the number I gave you?"
He snapped back to the present with that reminder, leaning further over the railing, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"...Not yet. I've been busy," he excused himself, sounding a bit timid.
Although he’d promised to see a therapist, the truth was he hadn't wanted to talk to anyone about his breakdowns. He’d had enough with Langdon throwing it in his face, proving just how hypocritical Robby could be.
When you decide to walk the path of a physician, there is one constant reminder: falling apart is forbidden.
A doctor doesn't work alone, but they lead. If you crumble, who takes charge? It’s your duty. Patients look to the doctor for the assurance that everything will be okay; you can't show them your fear in the face of the only truth—that nothing in medicine is certain.
"You know? You should stop being so hard on yourself." Abbot’s words finally got him to take his hands off his face and look him in the eye for the first time since he arrived. "Since I’ve known you, you’ve always been the type of doctor who gets the most involved with his patients."
His face was deadly serious, not a spark of a joke or a lie behind it. Practically Abbot being Abbot. The most honest veteran doctor he’d worked side-by-side with for years.
"Tell that to Gloria," he snorted without energy, looking away again.
"I’m serious, Robby," he scolded firmly. "If you aren't willing to talk to anyone, then allow yourself to be a little more flexible with yourself." A small pause. "Why do you think all your romantic relationships have always failed?"
Thump-thump.
His hands gripped the railing hard. He didn't expect the other man to bring that up. Neither of them ever did, not since... well, not since years ago.
"Jack, don't..."
"Because you don't allow yourself to," his friend continued shamelessly, pushing off the railing to stand in front of him, though Robby kept looking the other way. "I won't bring us into this, but Janey or Collins, for example... Why did they end?"
"They didn't like that I prioritized work over the relationship," he murmured quietly, guilty over how bad he was at managing his personal life outside of work.
"And both of them still appreciate you, despite what an asshole you were to them." He felt fingers on his chin, forcing his face to turn and meet those gray eyes—the very thing he was avoiding. "Because they know you don't do this for money or recognition, but to help that patient who is someone's son, nephew, father, or friend. You give everything to them, and you’re left with nothing to give your partners."
The fingers on his chin softened, caressing his cheek affectionately. The effect on his heart was like being injected with a bolus of adrenaline, sending his pulse racing a mile a minute.
"Did you come here just to tell me I'm a lousy boyfriend?"
The affectionate smile he got from Abbot brought back old memories he kept under lock and key. Days of youth and experimentation, secrets and adventures buried under years of the profession, between the veterans and med school.
"I came here to remind you of the reasons why you have to come back to this job tomorrow." Jack pulled his hand away, and Robby felt the warmth of his skin vanish with it.
"Oh yeah? And what are those?" he murmured, sounding lost, unable to look away this time from the face of the man who knew every part of him, who, regardless of time, had accepted every one of his changes, staying by his side without judgment.
"The lives we can save," he answered simply. "Even though I still don't agree with what you did the other day—taking that father to our makeshift morgue—I know it was just you trying to do the best thing for the kid, Robby."
Normally, especially in moments of vulnerability, Michael avoided eye contact while Jack did the opposite—he tried to really see him.
Now, they both stood there staring at each other for several seconds in silence, searching for something neither of them could quite name.
Both their pagers went off, signaling that shift change was close and it was time to head back for rounds.
"What I mean is," Jack spoke again, placing his hand over Robby’s on the railing. "Until the day comes when I see that you no longer care what happens to a patient's life... I’ll know you still have a reason to return to this job."
Robby unconsciously adjusted his hand, interlacing his fingers with Jack's in a tight squeeze—a gesture of gratitude and silent support.
The pagers beeped again, shattering whatever atmosphere remained of their discussion.
With a deep breath, he let go of Abbot’s hand, grabbed his stethoscope, ducked under the railing, and walked toward the door accompanied by his friend.
"Is once-a-week therapy actually effective?" he asked, trying to sound casual, as if they hadn't been discussing complex issues minutes before.
"It’s a start," Jack confirmed.
Now that night covered everything, the city lights in the background made it hard to fully appreciate the other's expression, but he noticed the soft smile on Jack’s face that made his heart flip.
"Right. I guess I'll have to cancel our Friday outing for that, then," he joked as he pressed the elevator button, trying to hide the nervousness—the same nervousness he swore he’d buried deep in his past with Jack Abbot.
"If this is your way of blackmailing me into saying you shouldn't talk to someone, believe me, I'm capable of taking day shifts just so we don't only use Fridays to go out."
Thump-thump.
Before he could answer that, the elevator arrived, opening in welcome. Whether the conversation was true or not, it ended there.
"I'll catch you up on the cases we have on the floor," he said instead, slipping back into his role as a doctor, Jack recovering his posture as well. "In Bay 1, we have an 18-year-old kid who..."
Being a doctor sucked. The ER sucked double. Jack had mentioned that Robby’s romantic relationships hadn't worked because he gave everything to his patients, leaving nothing for himself. It was true.
His voice blended with the beeping of monitors and the shouting of a nurse down the hall; both stepped out of the elevator without stopping, reciting the pertinent case reports. The world turning again, demanding and brutal.
For now, he would plan the appointments with the therapist. Later, he would have time to manage personal matters. And maybe, just maybe, he could find out if Jack still held onto that piece of his soul he’d given him years ago.
They would have time for that.