Work Text:
What a fucking nightmare of a-
last
-shift. Robby drew in a shuddering breath, a haunted house that forced its windows to open and the shingles that still clung to the roof to bear another storm. His stethoscope clanged against the metal of the rail as he tossed it to rest over it. His hip creaked as he lifted his leg over the railing.
(Remember your stretches, Robby. Mobility is one of the first things to go!)
He sighed out heavily as his sneakers scuffed the concrete on the other side. Finally there was nothing between him and--
(a final choice)
--open air. Another ragged breath.
(Intubated against his will, rasping heaving breaths as he struggled against a tub he had decided against.)
His eyes shut tight as he forced a weak and shaken laugh out of the rubble. He would not crack again. Not for a second. Not after he had sewn piece to piece again. He tucked his hands into his pockets and reached for--
(-- a ghost of blue capsules, nearly flushed, nearly returned, finally offered like a life sentence--)
--a cigarette. He considered falling off his own high horse. He considered the burn of his lungs that he hadn’t sought out since before Covid. Who fucking cared anymore? Toxins, every cigarette, and modern fucking vapes, stuffed the body full of them. He knew it. Everyone did. He was better than this--
(than Langdon. This place chewed you up and spit you out. What’s a cigarette compared to muscle relaxers?)
He released his grasp on the cigarette and focused back on the skyline. He needed to keep his eyes up, not down. He had always been afraid of heights. A rush of dizziness as his body flushed in fear of losing his balance.
(He would escape even making a choice.)
It was why he had been so scared when he first found Jack on the other side of this railing. A nightmare of a shift, Robby called in because of a seven car pile-up that hit double digits due to a flipped 18-wheeler. Jack had left to get some air but hadn’t been in the ambulance bay. Lena looked pale as she admitted he usually went up for air, but never for this long. The elevator felt painfully slow. The door to the roof had been propped open. Jack stood at the edge--
(-- the sun had just began to rise, it crested over the city, and lit Jack up in a perfect halo--)
--he didn’t look back even as Robby’s shoes crunched. Robby couldn’t remember anything either of them had said until Jack’s feet were firmly on the right side of the rail. Even then, Robby only really remembered how badly he had wanted to grasp onto Jack.
(Icarus could never fall if he had never been able to fly too far.)
He remembered thinking about what could make their positions trade out. What would make Robby risk the height of it?
Guess he found out.
He had broken apart, on work time, during a shift where every second could equal a life, and he had been coached back to awareness by a hire on their first day. The world was crumbling around him, shattered to pieces, until the light had suddenly blinked out. Dr. King looked at him, wide-eyed and covered in blood--
(-- Leah, limp and quiet, her blood on his hands, even the tag that was her entire chart, her entire life, had been doused in it, slippery with it--)
A blanket that she held like a shield. Her voice was so gentle. What stuck out terribly to him was that she didn’t ask a thing of him. Had brought them to equal standing and didn’t seem… scared by it. He had been tasked for years to be the leader. Sometimes he could lean onto Dana--
(--a black eye, blood from her nose, her hands shaking--)
--or Jack. But they both still looked at him different when he was shaken. Not fear, not annoyance, but something. An awareness that something was going wrong. But Dr. King hadn’t. Day one, she managed to take a good leadership role, and when he had broken, she stepped in to help without hesitation.
He couldn’t quite remember the last time that someone had hugged him first, had done so without him even fully returning it. Further out was the sensation of sobbing, of the head rush that came with all the tears that ripped out from him. For a moment, he wondered if he would ever escape the hollowness of his chest. And then Dr. Melissa King had smiled at him and seemed actually thankful to see him falter. Had complimented him, not for being perfect nor strong, but for being able to be steady around this. Had aspired to be like him even in his worst place.
They didn’t need Robby, he wouldn’t solve every problem. The team needed both of them. A chief attendant of the Emergency Department on the same level as a student doctor, made equal by the nightmare of luck. Two pairs of hands with the goal to help. The only difference being the amount of experience.
He had taken only a second after she left to breathe before he followed in her wake. He wondered what it meant to have a student doctor be prepared for what could be social suicide to save face for him. He had heard Santos sniping left and right at the other interns.
(Santos, who had been firm and intense all day, nearly anxious as she raised her collection of theories and proof to him. Spelling the downfall of all the hopes that Robby had been trying to hold onto with bloodied nails.)
But Mel, who hated gossip, had laid an out at his feet.
(Meaningless as Langdon had already heard of his breakdown and promptly used it as a weapon against him.)
And now he was here, on the roof, on the wrong side of the railing.
(It only matters if we get back up!)
He released a heavy sigh as tears fell. Robby scrubbed at his face.
“You’re in my spot.” Jack’s voice was clear and calm behind him. He felt the same rush of relief that he had when Jack first walked into the ED to help with the MCI. Robby looked back at him. Robby could nearly laugh at the look on Jack’s face when he realized that Robby was in tears.
Jack’s face crumpled, shock sparked along the tick of his eyebrows, and then he was moving slowly toward the rail, toward Robby. He had one hand extended.
“Hey, hey. Mikey—” he called to him, a crack in his voice. Jack never faltered in the ED. Faced with any challenge, he met and kept moving. Across every visit of the rooftop, Robby had never even seen him tear up. But in this moment, he seemed… Frightened. Robby didn’t move, not until Jack was in reach and suddenly darted out to grab him.
One of Jack’s hand was on his forearm, the other at the front of his scrub top. Robby was bent over the rail, as Jack half yanked him off his feet.
“Over, over. Get over here.” Jack chanted against his shoulder. Robby fumbled to follow his order. Once both feet were firmly on the right side of the rail, Robby was in his third hug of the day. Second that he didn’t begin, and the second with Jack. Jack pulled him quickly further from the rail, they both stumbled over each other and hit the ground. Still, they never released one another. This time, Jack’s hand was at the back of his head, he was nearly crunched as Jack pulled him to his shoulder. Jack’s heart beat far too fast under his ear. And once again, Robby couldn’t stop the rush of his tears.
“I wasn’t—” Robby began, and fumbled. “You know I wouldn’t. Not here. Not like this.” His voice cracked around the rush of words. Jack just held him tighter.
“Goddamn, brother, don’t do that shit.” Jack panted into his hair.
“Only you get to stand on the wrong side?” Robby asked, a weak laugh wheezed from him.
“Yes, forever, yes. Actually fuck off, no, neither of us are allowed anymore. Ever.” Jack rambled into his skin, and Jack trembled in his arms.
“I need help, Jack.” Robby whispered into his shoulder.
“Yeah, man, yeah.”
“Your therapist… I need a referral.” Robby soldiered on.
“Absolutely, for tomorrow, we can call tomorrow.” Jack promised.
“I broke, Jack.” A beat of time.
“Yeah, I know, Mikey. It happens.”
“Dr. King found me. She-- helped me out, got me out of my head.” Jack was nodding against his temple. It only matters if we get back up! He nearly wanted to laugh again.
“I’ll buy her lunch for a year, for her life.” Jack pushed on as he twisted them to rock Robby in his arms. “And I’m not letting you out of my sight. Get used to me being your second shadow, gonna get your interns to go down the bench.” Chapped lips met his temple.
A terrible shift. A nightmare of one.
But the sun would rise. Tomorrow would come. And in the end of things, his hands were just another set with the goal to help. The next generation of doctors would be okay. He worked at a teaching hospital after all, and no one stopped being a student no matter how old.
He learned a hell of one today.