Chapter Text
Song for this chapter - Crazier things by Chelsea Cutler and Noah Kahan
The monitors changed first. It was subtle, just a shift in rhythm. a stutter where there definitely shouldn’t have been one. But Whitaker, he saw it immediately. “Hey,” he started, panicked, rushing closer to the bed of the patient. “Ha—hang on,” he stuttered. The woman’s breath hitched, uneven now, her chest rising and falling too fast, too shallow. Across the room, someone swore. Robby.
“Whitaker, pressure’s dropping!” Robby shouted, sternly at the smaller man.
Whitaker’s focus snapped back immediately. “Uh, okay, let’s—” The monitor spiked again. Then dipped. Then, “Call it,” Nurse Dana said. Everything was moving at once. Hands, voices, orders overlapping—fast, controlled chaos. It was the kind they were trained for. The kind Dennis Whitaker was usually good at handling. Usually. “Whitaker.” “I’ve got it,” he said quickly, already moving, already reaching. But something felt off. Too fast, and way too wrong. The numbers weren’t stabilizing. They weren’t even trying to.
“Come on, come on,” Dennis muttered under his breath, like the patient could hear him. “Stay with me now.” “Epi in.” “Again.” People around him spoke fast.
Whitaker swallowed hard, forcing his hands to stay steady. He knew this part. He knew exactly what to do. So why didn’t it feel like it was enough? Time stretched. Or collapsed. Whitaker couldn’t tell.
Robby stood beside him, fixing something on the monitor. Tracking it. Studying it.
At some point, the room got quieter. Not silent—the ER was never silent. but the urgency shifted and slowed, slipping into something heavier. Dana, beside him, glanced at the clock. Dennis didn’t. He kept his eyes on the patient, like if he just focused enough, it could change something. It didn’t. And he knew that.
“Time of death,” Robby said. He noticed Whitaker looking away. For just a second, he was paying attention to him instead of the patient. Just a second. Just long enough to breathe. The patient was gone, and Robby had work to do.
The room didn’t stop. It never did. One of the nurses moved in to clean up. Dr. Santos was already asking about the next patient. A monitor in the room over beeped steadily. Indifferent. Robby noticed Whitaker stepping back, pulling off his gloves slowly. much slower than usual. Robby knew Whitaker was sensitive. Cared deeply about every patient. He shouldn’t let it affect him so much, but maybe…
Robby lingered on that thought for just a second. That’s what makes him such a good doctor. “Rough one,” Robby said lightly as he passed. Whitaker nodded. He didn’t trust himself to say more. Might make it worse. Robby found him a few minutes later, finally getting a break from the business of the ER. He found Whitaker near the lunchroom, sitting down. Staring at nothing. Deep in thought.
“You did everything right, kid.” Robby’s jaw tightened. Whitaker blinked, a flicker of surprise. his eyebrows lifting for a second, his eyes widening before his face recovered as he looked up at Robby. “Yeah. Yeah,” he mumbled. “I know.” It came out automatic. Robby watched him for a second. “You sure?”
Whitaker shrugged, one shoulder lifting slightly as he glanced down toward the table in front of him. “It’s just. it went bad fast.” “That happens.” “I know.” A pause.
He fidgeted with his hands, flexing his fingers like he was still checking if he could keep them steady. “She was stable,” he said quietly. “And then she wasn’t. There was nothing indicating her going bad.” Robby didn’t interrupt. Didn’t soften, either.
“You adjusted,” he said. “You responded.” Whitaker let out a shaky breath. “Didn’t help.” “No,” Robby replied softly. “It didn’t.” He wrung his hands together, thinking what to say to fix Whitaker. Another pause. Not uncomfortable. Just there. Whitaker nodded once, like that was enough. “Right,” Whitaker added, a little more himself. “Okay.” Robby bit his lip, thinking. “You can’t fix everyone…” He didn’t know if he was saying it to Dennis, or himself.
Robby had never been good at pep talks, or words of encouragement. especially not to someone he cared about so deeply. Or pretended that that wasn’t true, either. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and make it worse. God forbid he makes something worse. “Robby,” Perlah called. “We got a patient in room 2481. Needs epinephrine.” “Yeah,” he shouted back. “Be there in a second.”
He looked back at Whitaker, softer now, his lips pulled tight. He didn’t move immediately. His attention stayed on Dennis. “Take five,” he said quietly. Whitaker huffed. “I’m okay.” Robby raised a single eyebrow. Whitaker let out a breath. “…I’ll take five.” “You’ll be fine.” Robby gave Dennis a small pat on the shoulder before leaving to attend to his patients. Whitaker’s gaze followed Robby out of the room. Robby didn’t notice.
By the time everyone had gathered themselves and slowed down around the ER after the loss of the patient—a woman in her thirties, a regular at the hospital— Robby knew it was always hard to lose a regular. He had gotten used to it by now. The tension in the ER hadn’t gone anywhere, despite the slower pace of things. It just sat under everything, quiet and heavy. “Okay,” McKay said finally, clapping her hands together, dropping into a chair like she had given up pretending the day was salvageable. After Robby’s group debrief about the patient, they stood near the nurses’ station in the middle of the ER.
“That’s it.”,Someone glanced over. “That’s it?” “That’s it,” she repeated. “We’re done pretending like this week hasn’t been complete garbage.” She got a few tired laughs in response. “Drinks. It’s Friday, and we’re an hour from shifts finishing,” she added. “I’m serious.” “Tempting,” Nurse Dana said with a small laugh. “Necessary,” McKay corrected, laughing.
Whitaker leaned back slightly, arms crossed, listening but not really engaging. He stood beside Joy and Ogilvie, the student doctors he was mentoring. Robby noticed. Of course he did. “You going?” Santos asked Whitaker. He hesitated, just for a second. “…Maybe.” Robby glanced over at him. Didn’t say anything. Whitaker looked back at Santos. “I could use something that doesn’t involve thinking for a bit.” “That’s one way to do it,” she responded, laughing. “You coming?” “Of course. What kind of question is that?”
Robby listened to their conversation. He didn’t want to go. But Whitaker was going. He’s already had a bad day, he thought to himself. He was just keeping an eye on him, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. Today’s shift had taken enough out of everyone that nobody objected to the idea of going out for drinks. Dana spoke. “Come on. One drink. Minimum. Doctor’s orders.” “This feels unethical,” Ogilvie retorted. “Then don’t think about it too hard,” she replied, rolling her eyes.
Robby found Jack near the lockers. He was coming in to wrap up a few things with patients for the last hour of day shift. He wasn’t on for night shift tonight, but still felt some responsibility to all his patients. He was halfway through shrugging his jacket off.
“You, uh, you coming to that thing tonight?” “Hmm,” Jack mumbled back. “The drinks,” Robby clarified. Jack glanced over. “Debating.” “That’s not a no.” “It’s not a yes either.” Robby leaned against the row of lockers, arms crossed. “I think Mohan is coming,” he said slowly, a smirk pulling across his face. Abbott didn’t get flustered, but if you squinted, you could see a redness creeping across his cheeks.
Jack huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s exactly why I’m considering going home and not speaking to anyone for twelve hours.” “Or,” Robby chimed in, “you come out for one drink and stop thinking about it for two.” Jack studied him for a second, something amused flickering there.
“You’re really selling this.” “I’m being practical.” “Right,” Jack said flatly. “You. Social. For fun?” Robby didn’t react. He knew what Jack was getting at. “It’s one drink.” Jack tilted his head slightly. “You sure that’s why you’re going?” Robby’s expression didn’t change.
“Yes.” “Uh-huh.” Jack sighed, pushing his locker shut. “Fine. Let me finish here. Then, one drink.” The car ride was quieter than usual. Never silent. Robby had never really been capable of that, but quieter. He kept his eyes on the road.
Jack kept glancing at him. “You’ve been hovering,” Jack said eventually. “I haven’t.” “You have.” “I haven’t.” Jack leaned back in his seat. “Whitaker…” Now that, that got a reaction. Small, but there. “What about him?” Jack huffed. “You tell me.” “There’s nothing to tell.” “Right. You just spent half the shift within a five-foot radius of him.” Robby looked over. “You weren’t even there.” “I have my ways,” Jack smirked. Dana.
“He had a rough case.” “So did everyone.” Robby tightened his grip on the wheel slightly, knuckles whitening. “He took it harder. It was his patient.” Jack’s gaze lingered. “And that’s your problem?” “No,” Robby said flatly. “It’s my job.” Jack smiled faintly. “Sure.”
A pause.
Then, casually, “You always like this with him?” Robby cut him off before he could finish. “Drop it.” Jack raised his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “Maybe.” Robby didn’t respond. Jack looked out the window, amused, still smiling slightly.