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Jack’s back was sweating, his arms were tired. He had been alternating CPR on this patient for the better part of 30 minutes. He felt a tap on his hip and he stepped down, letting someone swap out with him.
John was still struggling with maintaining the airway. The blood bank was having a difficult time keeping up with them. Jack felt for a pulse once more, and a wave of cold swept over him.
“John, we have to call it.” Jack’s eyes focused on the patient’s closed ones.
“Alright, stop compressions.” John ran the code perfectly. There was nothing else that could be done. “Time of death, 5:57.”
Jack watched John carefully for any sign of fatigue, emotional or otherwise. He didn’t have any.
“Good job, everyone. Take a lap, check on your patients. We are going to debrief in 10.” Jack called out, ushering the team to move.
John pulled off his PPE and threw his gloves into the biohazard bin. He observed Jack, whose arms were braced on the side of the bed, trembling.
“I can notify the family if you want.” John offered quietly.
“No, I should do it. He was military.” Jack’s eyes were red, but tears hadn’t fallen yet. He pulled his own gown off and schooled his expression. A solemn face replaced it, and he turned out of the room.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The rest of the shift wasn’t nearly as eventful. Still, as day shift began to spill into the emergency department, the energy was different. Robby couldn’t quite place it.
He sipped his coffee, savoring the last drop of his expensive at-home coffee before having to drink the dirt water the hospital offered. He looked at the board; it was impressively caught up.
“John, do you know where Abbot is?” Robby rolled his shoulders gently.
“He already left, wanted to beat the morning rush.” John shrugged.
Robby checked his watch—Jack wasn’t one to leave a minute sooner than 7:01. Yet it was 6:58, and he had already disappeared.
Robby pulled out his phone, sent a quick text: Skipping out on me early today? and shoved his phone away. It was time for rounds.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
By noon, Robby still hadn’t heard back. It wasn’t abnormal per se—night shift had to sleep at some point, but still. Robby sent a second text, starting to feel like an unrequited love high school student: Are we still on for dinner tonight?
Robby scanned the room and saw her. Bingo.
He walked up to Victoria, who had picked up a double. She liked the nights, working away from the prying eyes of her parents.
“Javadi, can I talk to you a second?” He motioned for her to follow him down a side hallway. “Are you doing alright? You must be wiped after last night.”
“Oh, me? I’m totally fine. I don’t pull doubles a lot, I promise.” Her nervous rambling did absolutely nothing for the anxiety in Robby’s chest.
“Did you see any interesting cases? Anything you want to share?” Robby redirected, his voice hard.
“Is this about Dr. Abbot?” She wrung her hands nervously.
But Robby shook his head no. “I don’t know until you tell me.”
“There was a patient that came in late to the shift, car accident, I think. I wasn’t on that patient’s case, but Dr. Shen said it was a difficult one.” She supplied before slowly walking away.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Robby waited until 3:00 p.m. to try calling Jack. He was in the midst of leaving a voicemail when the call connected.
“-ello?” Jack mumbled.
“Hey, did I wake you?” Robby started pacing outside the doors of the ambulance bay.
“Yeah, it’s okay.” Jack’s voice sounded fine. Tired, yes. Unstable, no. “I need to get up anyway. I have to run some quick errands before dinner.”
“Oh, so we’re still on for tonight?”
“Yeah, unless you’ve had a bad shift, we can do something else.” That was Jack’s polite way of looking for an out.
Robby could tell Jack was shuffling around for his clothes, the audio on and off muffled.
“Yeah, I’m tired.” Robby picked his next words carefully. “I can pick us up something on the way home?”
Robby could hear the ambulance sirens getting closer.
“Sure, whatever you want.” Jack was going to say something else, but he heard the sirens. “I’ll let you go, see you later.”
“I love you—”
But the phone had already disconnected.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Robby himself tried to slink out a little earlier at 6:50 p.m. He picked up the food on his way and made it home in record time.
He took one deep breath before opening the front door.
Robby called out and left his shoes at the front, like normal. But the state of their house was anything but. It was clean. Like, super clean. Like realtor-approved, ready for a showing clean.
There wasn’t a single thing out of place. The pile of stuff they affectionately kept on the kitchen table was gone. The usual ball of blankets on the couch had been folded tightly.
He crept quietly into the kitchen and put the food on the table.
“Jack?” He ventured. “I’m home, the food is still warm.”
Jack appeared from the bathroom. He nodded in greeting and started pulling plates out.
“You cleaned.” Robby noted.
He pulled out the food and started serving himself. When he held out his hand for Jack’s plate, there was a flicker of hesitation.
“I got it, don’t worry.” He pulled the plastic fork from Robby’s hand and started to serve himself.
Robby sat down. He started eating once Jack sat down too.
“You left early this morning to get a jump on house chores?” Robby tried again.
“I had a bad shift.” But Jack didn’t elaborate. He pushed his food around a little. “Did you want a beer?”
Jack made a move to stand, but Robby stopped him.
“I’m okay. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’d rather not.” And he continued to play with his food.
When Robby was finished, Jack offered to do the dishes while he showered. By the time he was done, everything was cleaned up.
Jack was sitting on the couch, stiffly. He hadn’t disturbed the neatly folded blankets.
“I’m really tired, Jack. Do you want to come to bed?” Robby leaned over the back of the couch, his hands gently running up and down Jack’s shoulders.
“I will. I want to finish this.” He responded, his back muscles tightening at Robby’s touch.
Robby looked up at the screen; it was an old Tom Cruise action movie they had seen 10 times over.
Robby watched another five minutes before admitting defeat and kissing the side of Jack’s head goodnight.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
When Robby woke up at 2:00 a.m. to go to the bathroom, Jack still wasn’t in bed.
He went to the bathroom and took a detour to the living room, but Jack wasn’t there either. He glanced out the window to the driveway—both their cars were still there.
Robby and Jack’s house wasn’t huge. It wasn’t like there were many other places he could be.
But when Robby peered in the guest bedroom to still see nothing, he started feeling a little unsettled.
Robby walked back to their bedroom and saw half a foot sticking out from underneath their bed. He groaned and very slowly lowered himself to the floor.
He wasn’t as angry as he was surprised that Jack could still fit under the bed.
“Hey.” He didn’t even have to look to know Jack was awake. “It was that bad, huh?”
Jack hadn’t slept under their bed for almost a year. The last time was PittFest. Robby remembered Jack parroting something his therapist told him about small spaces feeling safer. That was the same night they had gone out and bought Jack his weighted blanket.
Robby could see the tear tracks running down Jack’s face, but he made no noise.
“Would you prefer if I left?” Robby watched Jack’s face carefully.
He turned to look at Robby. “Your back will hate you if you sleep on the floor all night.” That was Jack’s nice way of saying yes.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Jack worked the next night. John was off, so that meant only one attending.
“Cruz, can you get some of these patients discharged?” Jack asked from where he stood.
“Yes, sir.” Cruz answered and turned quickly on his feet.
Jack almost responded, don’t call me sir.
He could see Emery coming towards him and braced himself for impact.
“Heard about your patient from the other night. That’s a rough one.” Was all she offered. No condolences, no sympathies—just facts.
Jack nodded.
“Your patient in Trauma 2 with appendicitis is going to be just fine with antibiotics, no need for surgery at this time.” She continued.
As she went to disappear to whatever hell hole surgeons hung around these days, she threw him a granola bar.
He just barely caught it, reflex more than desire.
“Eat something. You look a little pale.”
He toyed with it a little. He knew he had to eat. He sipped at his water bottle.
Every time he put food in his mouth, it felt like sand. It felt like gravel. It felt like he didn’t deserve to eat when there were families without their children, their parents, their friends.
He ripped open the granola bar and bit it hard.
“Abbot, incoming trauma, I need an attending.” Parker called from where she was running towards the ambulance bay.
He put down the rest of the granola bar.
Robby supposed this was fine. He and Jack were in the park, taking a walk. Jack had already worked a full shift and barely slept, but insisted he was fine to go on a walk.
“Did you want to do lunch later?” Robby asked casually.
Jack’s prosthetic leg dragged just slightly.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“It’s only morning. You might be in a couple hours.”
“Okay.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
Lunch was painfully awkward.
Robby did order a beer, and he talked about anything he could think of. He talked about sports, the weather, the news, even the latest trashy reality television show.
Jack nodded along; he smiled when appropriate. He even added his own commentary when necessary.
But Robby watched as his plate didn’t change.
Sure, a carrot disappeared. The bread roll on the side was dented from Jack’s fingers. But the plate was still just as full. When the waiter came back, Jack asked for a box.
He made a comment to Robby, “You can take it for lunch tomorrow.”
“Did you not like it?” Robby pulled out his credit card, glancing at the bill.
“Did you talk to Javadi about me?” Jack was playing with a napkin.
Robby signed the receipt and handed it to the waiter. “Not specifically, why?”
“She asked me if I wanted to talk.” Jack clipped. His old wedding ring shining under the lighting.
“If someone is reaching out to you, maybe you’re not doing as good a job of hiding that you think you are.”
Jack scoffed. He stood to leave, grabbing his jacket. Robby followed his actions. “Maybe that makes someone just try to hide even harder.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“Hey, thanks for coming.” John half-heartedly clapped Robby on the shoulder.
“Where is he?”
“North 10. Walk with me.” John started and Robby followed. “It was a routine thing, 42-year-old female, dropped a knife while cleaning. Tried to catch it, pretty good laceration. Subcutaneous, needed a couple sutures, which our intern did. All Jack had to do was sign off and discharge.”
They were standing outside North 10 now. The curtain was drawn, the lights were dim.
“You moved the patient?” Robby clarified and John nodded. Robby pushed open the door and snuck past the curtain. Jack was standing, head resting in the corner where the two walls met.
“Jack, what’s going on?”
“M-my feet hurt.”
“Let’s sit.” Robby pulled at Jack’s arm, but he didn’t budge. “Hey, c’mon.”
“I can’t.” He kept his head against the wall. “If I move, the walls are going to collapse.”
“No, they won’t. I won’t let them, watch.”
Robby gripped the spot where Jack’s neck and shoulder meet. He pushed hard at the pressure point there. Jack finally squirmed and pulled away. He stumbled for a second before catching himself.
“See, the walls are fine, sit.”
Robby tried to direct him to the bed, but Jack just dropped and sat on the floor.
Robby opened a couple drawers until he found what he was looking for. They kept juice boxes in case a patient passed out. He tore through the plastic and forced the straw into the box.
“Drink this. You’ll feel better.”
He held the box up to Jack’s lips, but he refused to suck.
“The only way you’re leaving this room is to start talking. Otherwise, I’m calling Dr. Cameron, and he’s going to admit you.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“Drink the juice.”
“I can’t.”
“You haven’t eaten in two days.”
Jack pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I ate.”
“Not enough.”
Silence stretched between them. Somewhere outside the room, someone laughed at the nurses’ station. A monitor chimed twice.
“I’m fine now.” Jack’s voice sounded scraped thin. “I just need ten minutes.”
“No.” Robby stayed crouched in front of him. “No, we are way past ten minutes.”
Jack’s jaw tightened immediately. “I’m not doing this here.”
“You’re already doing it here.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What part?” Robby asked quietly. “Your patient dying, or you taking it out on yourself?”
“I am not punishing myself.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t believe you anymore.”
Jack swallowed, his eyes were wet, and he rubbed at them hard.
“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”
“You slept under our bed.”
Jack flinched, his whole body. Robby looked away regretfully.
“You knew what you were getting into when we started this.” Jack’s face had turned into a grimace. The putrid look of self-hate started to creep onto his face. “If you want out, you can walk away right now. No bad blood.”
Robby looked at him incredulously. “That is not—”
“Hand-offs will be awkward, we’ll have to split up the furniture. Although I never cared for that bed anyways. We’ll have to tell HR, oh and can you imagine the residents—”
Jack was only stopped by Robby’s hand coming up and offering the juice box again.
Jack smacked it away, the juice spilling onto his pants and the floor.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“No, I know, yeah…I agree. Okay. Okay. Thanks, Dr. Cameron.” Robby shoved his phone into his pocket.
John approached him cautiously. They were standing slightly away from North 10.
“Psychiatrist?”
“Yeah, he had given Jack his personal number for emergencies. This felt like one.” Robby ran his hand down the nape of his neck.
John nodded in understanding. “So what’s the plan?”
“Dr. Cameron said if I can get him home, he’s stable enough to wait until morning. Otherwise we have to admit him now.”
“I know in the moment this feels like betrayal, but you’re doing what’s best for him.”
Robby had half the mind to make John go back in there and talk to him. Instead, he walked away.
He went up to the vending machine and scoured for something that would tempt Jack to eat.
He returned to the room, the dark and silent room.
At some point Jack had taken off his prosthetic. At least that eliminated flight risk.
Robby sat down next to him and offered him the bag of trail mix.
Jack made a move towards it; he tore open the top and shoved a handful in his mouth.
“There, I’m fixed. Let’s go.” But he made no move to stand.
“I need you to come home with me.”
Robby refused to make eye contact, convinced Jack would be able to see more than he wanted.
“No.” Jack pushed the trail mix aside. His hands opened and closed around something that wasn’t there. “I don’t want to go home with you. I know what you’re planning.”
“You’re tired and hungry. Your brain is confused.”
Robby still refused to look at him.
Jack made a move suddenly; he jumped up on his one leg. He just barely made it to the trash can before throwing up. His body convulsed, painfully dry heaving until he had nothing left to give.
Robby half-crawled to Jack. He pulled him onto his lap so he was half holding him. He could feel the tremors ravaging Jack’s body.
“If you come home with me, we can sleep under the bed.” Robby tried to force Jack to relax, petting his head gently. “I’ll make you some soup. I’ll turn on that movie you like so much.”
Jack minutely curled into Robby’s side; he let his head rest against his chest.
“D-don’t… don’t admit me.” His hands shook even as they clung to Robby’s shirt.
“Do you think I want to admit you?” Robby pulled back. He held Jack’s face in his hands. “I want you home. I want us to be at home. That’s where we should be right now.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah? Are you sure?”
Robby held still for a minute. Robby kept his hand on Jack’s back for a moment longer than necessary, even after Jack’s breathing steadied.
It wasn’t fixing anything. It wasn’t solving anything. It was just… staying.
He realized, distantly, that he’d stopped trying to win the moment. No perfect combination of words that would make this make sense. But in this moment, maybe staying was enough.
“Okay. Let’s go home.”