Chapter Text
Jack was told he ought to be happy that, if he had to lose a leg, at least it was his right one. His left calf was a touch more important, soulmarked as it was. Most people had things like “I love you” or “See you tomorrow, babe” or the ever soul-wrenching “I’m so sorry.” Simple things, really, that implied the person at least met their soulmate before they died. A shocking number of soulmarks suggested the soulmates actually found one another.
Jack’s said, “I’ll call you when I get to Chicago.”
It put him off going to Chicago, even though he knew it wasn’t his last words inked into his calf, but his soulmate’s. But still, Chicago had always put a bad taste in his mouth, and he only laid over there if he couldn’t avoid it.
When Jess had been alive, he’d been insistent that she never go there, never even think of going there. No layovers or rest stops. She’d gone on a road trip once with friends that would have passed through on I-90 but he’d begged her to take I-74 past the city before swinging north. It added a couple hours to her trip, but took a huge weight off his shoulders. She had assured him in that it was worth it.
Before she’d died, her last words to him had been, “It’ll be OK. We’re so far from Chicago.” She could barely get them out as she wheezed for breath. His last words to her had been, “You can do this, please. You’re so strong.”
Her soulmark had said, “I’ll see you on Monday.”
Jack had spent the months afterwards wishing it had been his left leg that had blown up. That way, he wouldn’t have to look at that reminder that the love of his life was apparently not his soulmate, not on the cosmic scale.
Maybe then he could forget that Jess had met her soulmate, and it hadn’t been him.
He’d almost committed himself to an inpatient facility afterwards. Some itching raging part of him wanted to go to her office and shake down every person she worked with to figure out who her soulmate had been. He wanted to know who was it whose last words to her had been “I’ll see you on Monday,” and whose soulmark had disappeared with her death. He daydreamed about he’d do what he saw them. Would he punch them so hard they didn’t get up? Sink down to his knees in tears at the person who the universe had determined to be perfect for Jess, more perfect than he’d ever been? Or apologize that he’d been in the way of their shared happiness?
No, Jack did not like looking at the soulmark on his calf.
He’d called his mother afterwards in a misguided moment. Somehow he thought she’d know what words would get him past the cavernous hole in his heart where Jess had been. He’d told his mother that he hated how easily visible his soulmark was because it reminded him of her. She had responded that his other leg gave him an excellent excuse to wear pants all the time, even in the height of summer.
He had wanted to snap back that he wasn’t ashamed of his prosthetic, that he’d like to display it, normalize it, maybe help others who struggled with the visibility of their own amputations. But he didn’t say that, because he knew his mother would say that if he wasn’t ashamed by his prosthetic, he could hardly be ashamed of his soulmark now, could he?
They weren’t the same, dammit, even if they presented the same.
It seemed a touch dramatic when, a week after Jess had passed, Robby insisted he move in for a little while. Jack wasn’t in any position to argue since at that point, it seemed like his choices were the bottom of a bottle, an in-patient facility, or Robby’s spare room. So he lugged a suitcase into Robby’s spare room, found homes for his crutches and his wheelchair, and tried to feel, well, anything at all.
Jack was glad he was there when Dr. Adamson died just two weeks later.
And if Robby’s house had two sad middle aged men staring vacantly out in space, at least sometimes one of them thought to put a documentary on. Years later, Jack still couldn’t hear David Attenborough’s voice without feeling a complex bittersweet feeling. It began with guilt and sadness and the unique loneliness of having lost your person who was never your person to begin with. But that stabbing bitter feeling was softened by the comforting relief that he wasn’t truly alone, since Robby, David Attenborough, and all creatures great and small across the blue and green planet everyone lived on had been there with him.
Robby and Jack lasted out the pandemic together as best as two grown men could. Well, that would imply they abided one another, that they had found strategies to minimize any unpleasantness that would arise when two men suddenly were living together. That they clashed about dishes in the sink and who left their socks out and the other little irritations.
That would be inaccurate.
Robby and Jack found out that they were great roommates together. They cooked together and shared leftovers, cleaned up after one another when they knew the other was having a rough time, and Jack at least found living together to be far more pleasant than living alone.
And that was the problem.
Robby’s house started to look more like their house. Robby’s guest room started to look more like Jack’s bedroom. And Jack started to think of Robby’s house as ‘home’ instead of his and Jess’s house.
That’s what kicked Jack in the nuts and sent him packing. He doubted Robby much cared one way or another, but Jack started to feel like he had run away from things rather than face them head on, that the crutch of Robby’s apartment prevented him from truly healing. So Robby and Jack moved him back home, and he took a week off of work to cry and organize Jess’s stuff.
That’s when he decided to see a therapist.
God, and it worked. It was so stupid how well it worked. It’s not like he didn’t talk to anybody about things, he just… didn’t bring up some of the things that, he learned, he should probably talk about.
“I’ve been thinking about trying to date again,” he said into his knuckles. They’d been seeing one another for a year or two, and his therapist was starting to get a hang on when Jack was talking shit and when he was serious.
“That’s a big step,” Merle said innocuously. Everything he was was said innocuously, but Jack learned that sometimes his words held barbs.
“It’s been, what, four years? I don’t know, it seems like I should be ready.”
“There’s no timeline on grief.” Merle liked saying that, so it had to be true or at least useful. “Do you feel ready? Or like you should feel ready?”
Jack thought about it. He really truly did.
“I feel ready.”
And that’s the thing, it’s not like he wasn’t ready. After that session, he started to go on dates, but there was never any spark. He did his best to be charming, but he wasn’t being charmed. He liked some of them well enough, but each date started, continued, and ended with him wishing he’d spent the time with Robby instead.
They didn’t spend as much time together as when they lived together, but Jack thought Robby was doing… alright. The serial short term monogamy thing he’d done since Janey dumped him was a pretty terrible choice, though Robby insisted it was just coincidence. Otherwise he seemed relatively held together for the chief of an ER.
And Jack had therapy, sure, but he still went to the roof sometimes, when the day was just too much and he wondered if soulmarks had any bearing on the afterlife, but Robby always talked him away from the edge. Robby always reminded him that life was worth living.
It was fine. They were both fine.
Pittfest changed all that.
Afterwards, Robby became closed off. They still hung out, sure, but it was like there was this barrier between them that there had never been before. Jack tried to get him to open up, to pry that door open so he’d have his friend back, but Robby just… didn’t seem interested in it. He hardly seemed interested in anything until he bought this beat up old motorcycle, and then it became pretty much the only thing Robby talked about beyond work.
Jack wished he knew more about motorcycles. He didn’t love the idea of Robby on one, but he hated that it seemed they had nothing in common anymore, that every conversation was Jack trying desperately to find common ground, and Robby didn’t care enough to try.
Robby had Duke now. He had Duke and Bonnie the motorcycle, and Jack had no one.
Jack stood at the edge of the roof one morning, watching the sun color the glass and brick buildings of Pittsburgh. The rivers were colorful veins as they reflected the riotous sky.
It wouldn’t be such a bad day to go, he thought.
He never managed to track down Jess’s soulmate. Were they already dead and together in Heaven? Or would Jack have a few more years with her before he was alone up there as well?
It was Priti’s day shift now, not Robby’s. There was no one coming for him. No one to stop him.
Would Robby come if it was his shift?
Would Jack want him to?
Jack had switched his emergency contact to Robby after Jess had died, and he’d never switched it to anyone else. If he became a smashed up body on the concrete below, Robby would be called immediately.
Jack left the alluring abyss to its explosion of color.
He redoubled his efforts with Robby. He drug him out of the house to somewhere other than that damned motorcycle. He came over just to spend time in the same space together. He made sure to invite him to events in town. And he felt like Robby was responding, was turning towards him more often than he turned away. If he had to go to Duke’s to work on the motorcycle, fine, but at least Jack got him sometimes.
Which is more than he could say about the three month sabbatical Robby had scheduled for himself. Jack was genuinely proud of him for doing so, but three whole months without him seemed like an eternity. And that wasn’t even considering that Robby was going to do it on his motorcycle, on his donor-cycle.
Jack didn’t want to be called any more than he wanted Robby to be called.
But as Independence Day approached, AKA the last day Jack would see Robby for a very long time, he was beginning to doubt Robby realized that. He rode without a helmet for one, and he lied about it. He was planning on leaving for a three month road trip immediately after what was sure to be an exhausting holiday shift. And some of the things he said were concerning.
Jack asked about them, approaching the questions sideways, and each time Robby assured him he was fine, don’t worry about it. So Jack chose to believe him and he didn’t worry about it.
But then the 4th happened. He saw Robby midday after a SWAT injury, and he stayed a little extra to help with Howard since they didn’t have the staffing for one of their scheduled employees to ride along with. After, he had a conversation with Robby in Central; just reminders to call, that he cared, that he understood. And Robby… To call it a smile would be gracious. But Robby had told him not to worry, so he didn’t worry. He’d call. He would.
At the start of Jack’s shift, Dana broke down crying and spilled the beans. The day had been filled with red flags, and they’d gotten bigger and wavier as it progressed. So Jack was blunter and more forceful than he liked to be. He rambled about his wife and his leg and how they stare death in the eyes every damn day, but they had to fight it. He reminded Robby that a phone call about his death would kill him.
And Robby finally cried. He collapsed in Jack’s arms for the few moments two attendings could spare on the holiday weekend. With all of Robby leaning on him, Jack could still feel a weight lift off of his shoulders: whatever might happen over the sabbatical, Robby would not do it on purpose. That was enough.
It had to be.
Robby even took a few days off after the 4th to catch up on sleep before his life was literally in his hands. He and Jack went to a fair, and he visited Duke to tune up his bike again after its fall, and he even joined Jack at the gym. They hugged the night before he would finally leave, and it took all of Jack’s willpower not to beg him to stay.
Three months was so so long.
Jack wiped tears from his eyes when they finally pulled apart, and he was oddly happy to see that Robby’s eyes had their own sheen. But they didn’t separate completely, not right away. They were so close, close enough to kiss.
The desire for it punched Jack straight in the gut, thrummed up and down his body, and demanded attention. It could be that simple: they could kiss. It’d just be a kiss between two men who cared deeply for each other when everyone else had left them behind. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?
Jack’s lips itched, and Robby’s mouth looked so red, so ready, so there. Jack wanted to. He wanted it like he’d never wanted anything else before.
But he couldn’t know how Robby would react. Robby was doing better, but he was still… volatile. A kiss before he left could be the trigger that would push him back to the 4th of July.
Jack let go. He pulled away. He clapped Robby’s back and shoulder a few times. Robby released him easily enough, but something flashed in his eyes, something that Jack couldn’t bear to think about.
“Call me, OK? I want to hear from you every stop you can to see how it’s going. Dark or light, I want to hear from you.”
“Sounds like you’re gonna get sick of me real quick,” Robby joked.
“If you contact me enough that I get sick of you, you’ll be the first to know,” Jack promised.
Robby gave an awkward chuckle and patted his shoulder. “Alright. Every stop.”
Jack wanted to give him another hug, to tell Robby he was proud of him for taking time off to recuperate before his trip, for going on a trip at all, but he thought Robby wouldn’t appreciate it. So Jack pulled himself away before he did something he regretted.
The next day, he got a call from Robby in Ulrichsville, OH around 9AM, where they apparently had a very nice museum on trains and railroads, and he planned to visit the historically restored Schoenbrunn Village nearby.
“Really off the beaten path, huh?” Jack said.
“That was the whole point, Jack. If it was just a trip to Alberta, I could take the Interstate. But there’s loads off the Interstate worth seeing, and I’ve got three months to spend on it.”
“Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me! It’s about the journey and not the destination, and all that.” Jack held his free hand up in mock surrender, but it’s not like Robby could see.
“Yep. Then it’s Sugarcreek for the World’s largest cuckoo clock.”
“A cuckoo clock? You don’t say.” The smile tugging at Jack’s lips broke into a grin.
And that’s how it went. Jack was grateful he was more prone to napping that sleeping straight through the day, because Robby really did call every two or three hours as he went. Jack learned a lot more about rural Ohio and Indiana than he ever had any desire for, but from Robby’s lips, it was like a storm in a drought. It felt like he was living for every buzz of his phone and every flash of Robby’s name on the screen.
Merle was a bit concerned. Jack tried to explain, but he didn’t seem convinced. “I know he’s important to you, but remember when we talked about having a support network? Robby can’t just be the only person you talk to. You need to have a web of people who are there for you.”
“Shen and I have a good relationship. Ellis, too. Some of the SWAT members…”
“Do you talk to them outside of work? Or about anything other than work?”
“Not… really.”
“Do you still think they count?”
Jack tried to argue it, but it was a losing battle. The thing about arguing with a therapist is that it felt too much like arguing with yourself.
“Have you had any luck finding a hobby that doesn’t involve getting shot at?”
Waiting around for Robby to call wasn’t exactly what he could call a hobby.
“I like going to the gym?” That hadn’t changed.
“Hm.”
“I could… get a gym buddy? Someone to lift with?”
“That’d be a good start.”
Jack tried, but Robby called during a set, and, well, he had his priorities.
“Not cool, man,” Rob (or Bob?), his new gym buddy, said.
“It was a five minute phone call! My buddy’s on a motorcycle trip and he checks in to let me know he’s OK.”
“It couldn’t be a text? I’ve gotta be out in 15 to get home to my kids!”
“OK, let’s hurry up then.”
Jack didn’t know how to explain that every minute Robby was gone felt like being waterboarded, and he lived for those five minutes of air. It would sound insane. Ridiculous.
Lovesick.
No, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t lovesick. He couldn’t be. He wasn’t in love with Robby, after all. It’s just that Robby was his person. That he wanted to kiss him once didn’t mean anything. It was a gut reaction to Robby leaving for three months. Those other times he had thought about it over the years, on the couch, at dinner, during handoff? Those were anomalies.
The anomalies did form a pretty tight cluster around that bullseye.
Fuck.
Whatever.
It didn’t mean anything.
Jack had thought he’d loved Jess, but it turned out that they were never soulmates anyway. It was probably the same with Robby. Jack had never seen Robby’s soulmark, but that didn’t mean anything. The way Robby flitted through relationships was enough to make Jack wonder if he had one at all.
That was unkind. Unfair and unkind. Robby just struggled forming lasting relationships, that was all, and what ER attending didn’t? The job wasn’t conducive to dating. The job was work for both sides while married, and kids were a whole other struggle. Robby just wasn’t wasting someone’s time when he knew it wouldn’t last. That was all.
“What’s up next on your tour of the rural Midwest?”
“A not-so-rural stop. I’m turning north tomorrow, up to Decatur, IL.” Robby sounded good. Really good. He sounded carefree and happy.
Jack couldn’t burden Robby by telling him that every second they were apart felt like dying, not when Robby was genuinely enjoying himself.
“Anything interesting there?”
“Chevy Hall of Fame. Some museums. Might stop by the zoo.”
“Scintillating.”
“Jack, if you’re sick of hearing from me—“
“Is that what I said? No, keep it up. I’m living for it.” The silence after he said that made Jack very very aware that his tone had edged a bit too close to truthful. “That is, as long as you’re still OK to call.”
“Yeah.” Robby let out a forceful sigh. “Yeah. No, it’s— it’s good. It’s nice to keep you updated, you know? Makes it feel… Yeah.”
“Yeah?” Jack teased him. God, he loved teasing Robby.
“Yep. Now I’ve gotta head to bed. Got a lovely flat ride tomorrow.”
“Talk to you then.”
“Hey wait!” Jack interrupted him before he could end the call.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“I was wondering, and I get that it’s a weird and super personal question…” Jack didn’t know how to say it. It wasn’t something people talked about. Not like it was taboo or anything but… well. Maybe it was a bit taboo.
“It’s getting late, Jack.”
“Well, I wanted to know what’s on your soulmark.”
The line was silent, and the only reason Jack knew Robby hadn’t hung up on him was the faintest sound of breathing still coming through.
“You don’t have to answer,” Jack said quickly. “I just realized I didn’t know. Weird thing to realize, right?”
“Yeah, I get it.” Robby paused. “It’s one of the generic ones.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I don’t think about it all that much. Could be anybody who says it to me, you know? The only reason I know that they’re still alive is that it’s still there. But someone could’ve said it to me 20, 30 years ago and moved to Thailand or something to live a life over there, and I wouldn’t know. It’s really common.”
“Oh.” Jack had never thought about how painful those sorts of soulmarks must be. His had always been specific enough that it made him antsy, but the generic ones? They still had meaning, but maybe it was lost in the shuffle.
“Yeah.”
“Jess’s was generic,” Jack found himself saying. “‘I’ll see you on Monday,’ it said.”
“I’m guessing those weren’t your last words to her?”
“No.”
Robby let out a harsh breath. “That’s really hard, Jack. Really hard. But you two had a good marriage. You loved each other. Even if some divine force didn’t stamp you with something saying you were 100% compatible, you were damn close to it, and you both worked hard enough at it that I’d bet your soulmark would have updated.”
“If she survived.” Jack choked out the words. His eyes and nose had started running, and he was wiping frantically with his sleeve.
Robby’s voice was soft. “Yeah, brother. If she survived.”
It wasn’t uncommon, but it did happen. Soulmarks would disappear if your soulmate died, of course, but sometimes they would update if your soulmate changed or if somehow the words on the soulmark wound up not being the last words between the two of you. A large number of research articles had been written about what soulmarks told humankind about fate and free will, and Jack had read them obsessively during COVID.
“Yours isn’t a common one, then?” Robby asked.
“No. Not common.” Jack sniffed.
“Well, I hope it’s a long time before you hear those words, brother.”
“Me too.”
Robby puttered his way north, calling every few hours as he went. Jack was frustrated when Al-Hashimi had to swap him to a day shift. He was in traumas for two of Robby’s three calls.
Robby called him again at 5PM, and he managed to pick up. A trauma room was available so he had a modicum of privacy.
“Busy day over there?”
“You know how it is in paradise,” Jack drawled. “But I got a spare few seconds. What’re you up to?”
“In Crete, Illinois for the evening.” Robby pronounced the state name like a native. Jack wondered how long it took one of the locals to correct him. “There are a bunch of nature preserves around, so I thought I’d get my fill of green before being in a city for a few days.”
“Makes sense. Wish I was there, brother. I could use some green.”
Dana waved at him through the glass before opening the door. “Head-on collision, at least four injured. Five out.” Jack shot her a thumbs up.
“Really busy day then?” Robby asked sadly.
“It’s worse than a busy night, I can tell you that much.” He rubbed his forehead with his index finger and thumb. “What I wouldn’t give for something inconveniently up someone’s ass right now.”
Robby barked in laughter, and Jack found a smile tugging the corners of his lips. “You know, you can arrange that,” Robby joked.
“At work? For shame, Robby. Besides, do you know how hard it is to remove something inconvenient from your own ass?” Jack tsked.
“Fortunately not. I’ve got more sense than that. I’m a strong believer in a flared base.”
“Oh?” Now was not the time to start getting hot and bothered, but he really really wanted to know more. Dana reappeared on the other side of the glass, glaring at him and holding up three fingers. “Three minutes out. I’ve gotta go.”
“Yeah, no worries. I’ll call you when I get to Chicago.” The call ended with Jack staring at his phone, his mouth hanging open.
It couldn’t be… Could it?
He hit redial, and it went to voicemail.
“Two minutes out, princess! We gotta go!” Dana was holding out his gown so he could put it on. He slotted his arms through the holes and she helped him tie it. “What’s going on? You’re worse than a toddler.”
“Robby just said the words on my soulmark. ‘I’ll call you when I get to Chicago, he said.’ It went to voicemail when I called him back.”
Dana stared at him. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“OK. OK. Well, we got five folks who’ll die right now if you don’t get your head in the game. While you do that, I will find someone to sub for you for the next few days. Want me to buy you a plane ticket? Chicago right?”
Jack looked blankly at her.
Dana’s face was stubborn, and her eyes were steel. “You’re gonna try and stop it right? Latest research I heard, you’re the only one who can.”
“Yeah. Yeah of course. A flight. There are a couple airports right? The one closer to Crete, Illinois. And a car rental?”
“Got it.” At Jack’s continued stare, she wrapped him in a hug. “Hey, I’ve got you. I will make sure Robby’s got his best chance, and that’s you. But first you gotta save these poor people.” She patted his shoulder. “Get to it!” She said in her best sergeant’s voice.
It took an hour and a half to get everyone to get everyone stable, and it was a near thing until Shen showed up. Dana was good on her word, though, and he had a plane ticket to Midway set to leave at 8:45PM (last one ‘til the AM, she said), a medical go bag for him that he would check, a shopping bag with a change of clothes, and a car reservation. He made it to the airport just in time for the joy of security (they never heard him the first time when he said his leg was a prosthetic). He had just enough time to change out of his scrubs and splash water on his face before his group number was called.
He tried calling Robby three more times. Each one went straight to voicemail.
He knew Robby turned his phone off sometimes when he was riding or sleeping. Maybe Robby found a campground near Crete, IL and wanted to save battery, or maybe he got a hotel room and figured there was no point turning it back on. After all, Robby had been the one calling this whole trip, while Jack had just been waiting for his call.
He didn’t even realize that Robby was going to Chicago, that it could be important. He’d spent decades worrying about Jess and every single ex he’d ever had going to Chicago, yet he’d never even thought about Robby going. After all, Robby had done medical school in Chicago, he’d gone there for conferences, and the two of them weren’t dating.
Robby was just Jack’s person.
Apparently the universe agreed.
The flight was brutal: he’d spent the entire time panicking about missing an emergency call, worried about every tingly feeling on his calf, a sign the soulmark had dissolved upon the soulmate’s death. After all, he didn’t know when or even how Robby would die, just that he wouldn’t make it to the part of Chicago where he would call Jack. He could be hit coming back from the nature preserve he’d talked about, or eaten by a bear, or he might choke on his dinner. Maybe no one in Chicago knew the Heimlich. And Chicago was known for being a dangerous city, right? Maybe he got shot or mugged or stabbed or… any number of things. Robby had grown up in Pittsburgh, one of the safest fucking cities in the US. Regardless of how many violent crimes they saw in the Pitt, they were way down compared to Chicago.
There was a reason why Pittfest was such a surprise.
Jack’s left calf muscle was starting to cramp from it’s anxious twitch, his ankle thumping rhythmically on the airplane floor. He’d tried to stop it half a dozen times, but it’d just start up again. He eventually slung it over his right knee even though it hurt his nub: he’d need that calf for driving. His body would have to twitch something else.
His fingers drummed a beat on his leg. That was fine. That was manageable. That was less disrespectful to the sleeping passengers around him.
He turned airplane mode off as soon he could. There were only three messages: one from Dana (‘let me know when you land’), another from Shen (‘Dana told me. Don’t injure yourself in the rescue, old man), and a third from Ellis (‘go get him tiger 🐯’). He texted Dana, and she responded immediately saying that she tried Robby again but no luck. She shared a google map with him that highlighted all the hotels, airbnbs, and campgrounds near Crete, IL.
There were so many.
His phone buzzed again. [It’s a start,] Dana had sent.
He got his checked luggage with medical supplies and found his rental car, a giant SUV he was not looking forward to maneuvering in Chicago traffic. At least there was plenty of room.
He put the back seats down just in case, then chucked the medical bag and his leg onto the passenger’s side. He started driving.
He wished he’d paid more attention to what the Bonneville actually looked like. It was black and it looked kind of retro, and the handlebars were in a reasonable position, but that was all he really remembered about it. In each parking lot he stopped in, he was focused on motorcycle license plates, because he would not gamble on recognizing the bike from appearance alone. But Pennsylvania plates were not common
Duke had probably gotten all the motorcycle photos while Jack got all the phone calls.
A tendril of jealousy rose up in his gut to wrap around his heart.
Stop that. We’re apparently fucking soulmates. There’s nothing to be jealous of.
There would be a sad irony if Robby woke up and called him, confused by all the missed messages, and it turned out that they weren’t soulmates because a dramatic change was not needed to alter fate. If Robby just so happened to use the words on Jack’s soulmark as he was hanging up.
There was no use thinking about it now. Jack had a mission, and he would see it through. He would deal with the fallout, whatever that might be, later.
He drove for hours, and there wasn’t a glimpse of Robby’s black Bonneville. When his left leg was crying out from its driving angle and his hands were shaking and blinks seemed to last longer than a few seconds, he stopped for coffee and food. He took a fifteen minute power nap in the parking lot. He put on his leg and did some stretches in the same parking lot. Then he went back to driving.
When he finally saw Robby, he thought it was some soulmate equivalent of a mirage. The sun was cresting the horizon, and Jack was driving south on 394, thinking of restarting his search from Crete. To his left was a wide grassy median, a sort of wire fence, and the morning commute traffic between them. And there, zipping through northbound traffic, was a man on a black motorcycle with a brown jacket and the full coverage helmet Jack had made him buy.
It took every force of will for Jack not to pop a U-ie and let whatever would happen happen. That’d be certain death, though, and their soulmarks only told them what their last words would be, not who would die before the next words were exchanged.
So Jack carefully exited the highway and entered the morning commute traffic, which was moving much, much slower than it had looked going the opposite direction. He was stuck in it for a couple of minutes before he realized.
There may have been an accident.
He pulled onto the shoulder and went past the traffic on the right, ignoring the honks and glares, his eyes searching, searching…
There!
A car was sideways across the right lane, and in front of it was a figure on the ground in a brown coat and motorcycle helmet. Jack sped up until he was next to the accident. He turned off the car, put his leg on, grabbed the medical bag, and ran to where Robby laid on the asphalt.
“I’m an ER doctor,” he said as he shoved aside the two people in their business clothes. One was on the phone with 911 while the other was just staring at Robby’s body.
His limbs were twisted, but there wasn’t much blood. But still, Jack knew that if he didn’t move fast, Robby would be gone. The paramedics wouldn’t get here in time. That’s what the soulmarks meant. So if Jack was going to ever talk to Robby again, he needed to stabilize him really fucking quickly.
He popped the pulse oximeter onto Robby’s finger, drilled an IO, and the phone appeared next to him as he worked. The woman who brought it over seemed vaguely functional, so he handed her a pair of gloves and had her squeeze in a blood bag.
Robby’s radial pulse was thready, and he was responsive to pain. His right ulna, tibia, and fibula were broken. His ribs had popped a hole in his lung, and his chest cavity was filling up with air. His belly was bruised from internal bleeding. His head was fine, thank God, and his neck and spine weren’t broken, either.
Jack figured it was the collapsing lung or internal bleeding that would do it.
Jack put a chest tube in to relieve the pressure and intubated. He had the second businessperson work the balloon. He sterilized Robby’s belly with iodine before he began the ex-lap. One of the ribs had lacerated the liver, and he got on the preperitoneal packing.
He thought he had the bleeding slowed just as the ambulance showed up. The EMTs stared at him.
“I’m an ER attending at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. He’s my soulmate. The last words he said were the ones on my mark.”
They let him ride with.
They let him work on Robby in the ambulance, but once they got to Ingalls, he was sent to the family waiting room. In a brief moment of clarity, he called Dana to give her an update. She convinced him to get snacks and to give his nub a break. Then he waited.
And waited.
His left leg hurt so badly from driving he doubted he’d feel the tingling if the soulmark disintegrated, or if it changed.
He gave in. He rotated sideways on the waiting room couch, and slung his left leg over his right so he could watch his calf for any sign of change.
At some point, he must have slept. The doctor woke him up to say that surgery went well, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet, “But I guess you know that.” She glanced at his soulmark significantly. “You’ll probably know before we do. But you can go to him. Talk to him.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you fly here from Pittsburgh this morning?”
“Last night.” Jack rolled the sweaty sock back on his nub. “Left as soon as I could. He turned off his phone after he said it, then I dealt with an MVA. Head on. Got in and spent all last night looking for him.”
“Well, he has a much better chance because of you. That was some real combat medicine.”
“Where my illustrious career got started.” The leg was on, and he was up. Both legs screamed as he limped behind the doctor. He could handle it. She was taking him to Robby.
“I’ll make sure there’s a wheelchair and crutches in the room,” she said. Jack barely heard her as he rushed to the doorway.
Robby looked… small. Robby never looked small, even when he was having a terrible day and trying to turtle into his hoodie. It looked like his entire right side was bandaged and splinted.
They’d placed a chair by his left side, and Jack fell into it. He grabbed Robby’s left hand with both of his and pressed his forehead against it.
“I should’ve realized it was you,” Jack whispered, not caring if the doctor was still there or if she’d left. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize. It’s obvious when you think about it, you know? It’s you and me. It’s always been you and me. Was just too hung up on my own shit, I guess. Too busy mourning Jess to see you right underneath my nose.” Jack sobbed wetly. “Did you know? It’s unfair, I know, but it’d be so like you to figure it out and assume you didn’t deserve it. God, is that what sent you down all those dark paths?” He wiped his nose with the neck of his shirt. “I really, really hope you pull through. Can you imagine, you and me actuallytogether? It’d be chaos, yeah, but it’d be good. We’d be so, so good together.”
Jack continued like that for awhile, his weeks of shoddy sleep and missing Robby like he missed his leg piling up on him. He released the words he never found time to say like a torrent. Some of them were less than kind, but he figured that now was the time to say them. Robby was nothing if not a stubborn bastard, and he liked being right. Jack figured Robby’d stay alive just to prove him wrong.
Jack begged Robby to prove him wrong.
Eventually he ran out of words. Robby would be happy, Jack thought, to know that it was even possible for Jack to shut up without being asked. He pressed his lips to the back of Robby’s hand and promised him that he would learn how, if that’s really what Robby wanted. He just really wanted Robby to know how much Jack appreciated him. He had always hoped if he told Robby enough, maybe it’d stop making him so fidgety, that maybe he’d start believing Jack. Like exposure therapy for compliments.
Robby make a sound. A sharp wet inhalation that switched to a sudden wracking cough. Jack stood immediately to try and help him.
“Robby? Robby!” Jack sounded hopeless and distraught. He felt exhausted.
The coughing spat finished, and Robby at last opened his eyes.
“Jack?” His voice was a dehydrated croak, and Jack hurriedly brought a cup of water over. He helped Robby with the straw, then set it down on the end table. Robby spoke again. “You’re here?” He sounded confused.
“I’m here, brother. I’m here.” He took Robby’s hand in his and squeezed.
Jack had been too terrified and then too happy to feel the tingling of his left calf when his soulmark changed.