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You just make sure you come back. And if it gets dark, you call me.
Twelve hours after Robby leaves on his sabbatical, Jack’s phone buzzes with an incoming call.
He’s just settled down in bed, but there are only, like, three people in his life who call him without warning, and one of them is his dentist. Even his mom sends a text first to ask if he’s available.
The number on the screen is unfamiliar, which means this is probably going to be a scam. Don’t those normally happen to old people? Is someone about to pretend to be his grandson now?
“Abbot.”
Silence, followed by a hitch of breath. That’s as good an answer as any, Jack thinks as he sits up and reaches for his prosthetic leg, the phone nestled in the crook of his neck.
“Robby? Where are you, man?”
The silence stretches so long that Jack has slipped into his jeans already. Then, finally: “The Yard.”
Jack curses. The Yard is the bar closest to the PTMC. It’s sticky and gross and Jack has spent many hours there watching interns throw up.
Instead of asking what Robby’s doing there when he’s supposed to be on the road by now, or asking why he isn’t calling from his own phone, Jack just says, “Stay there. I’ll be there in ten.”
The short drive to work is more or less the only reason why Jack took this apartment. When he has the time, he likes to walk, but today he’s thankful for the car. He’s even more thankful when he enters the Yard and Carl, the bartender, immediately comes over and points at a table in the corner, where a slumped figure sits.
“He came in a few hours ago,” he says quietly.
“Don’t you close at two?”
Carl shrugs. “I had some paperwork to do.”
“It’s almost eleven.”
“Look – last year, I was in a car accident, hit-and-run. Your man over there saved my life. He can stay as long as he wants.”
Jack swallows. “He called me. Was that your phone?”
“He said he lost his,” Carl says. “Had your number memorised, though. I told him he could either call someone or let me walk to the hospital and notify one of the staff. I don’t mind if he stays here, but he just looked so sad.”
“Right,” Jack says, and tells himself, man the fuck up. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ll talk to him – with luck, we’ll be out of your hair soon. Get me his tab, I’ll cover it.”
Carl shakes his head. “No need. On the house.”
When Jack approaches, Robby doesn’t react, just continues staring blankly at the empty glass in front of him. Jack slides into the booth and knocks their shoulders together.
“Hey. Think you’re ready to let Carl have a break? Bar is supposed to be closed by now.”
It’s manipulation 101 – don’t make it about Robby, make it about someone else. Jack would feel bad, but how can he, when it always works so well?
It works this time, too. Robby winces and says, “I didn’t realise how long it’s been.”
That’s fairly worrying, considering Robby is the only person in the room besides Carl, and apparently has been for some time. But all Jack says is, “Should we get going? You can buy me a beer some other day.”
Watching Robby stand is worrying, too. He moves like he’s been through the meat grinder. There are dark bags under his eyes. “Sorry,” he tells Carl on their way out. “Didn’t mean to bother you.”
“You’re never bothering me, Dr. Robby,” Carl says, and, impressively, manages to sound like he means it. “Take care of yourself, alright?”
Robby opens his mouth, but Jack is quicker. “That’s what he’s got me for,” he says as he wraps an arm around Robby’s shoulders and steers him out the door.
He keeps his arm like that until they reach his car, at which point Robby throws him an amused look.
“Am I under arrest?”
Jack opens the passenger door for him and resists the urge to do up Robby’s seatbelt for him. “Yes.”
“No handcuffs?”
“Left them at home.”
“Shame.” Robby closes his eyes as they drive past the PTMC. He looks about as tired as Jack feels. “You can just drop me- shit.”
“What?”
“Forgot that I gave my home to Whitaker. He should be at work now, but he probably brought over all his stuff.”
“Good thing we’re going to my place, then.” Jack takes a left turn. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I don’t need you to feed me,” Robby says testily, which Jack assumes means no. “And I don’t need you to drive me to yours, either. I’ll just get a hotel until I get a chance to talk to Whitaker.”
“Hotels are a waste of money. I prefer camping.”
“Great, so lend me a tent.”
“I’ll do you one better,” Jack says as he turns into his street. “Next time I go into the mountains for a weekend, I’ll take you with me.”
“Lucky me.”
As soon as the car stops, Robby tries to wander off, into the direction of the subway that Jack knows will take him back to his own apartment. Jack catches up with him in seconds, shaking his head. “I’m not joking,” he says grimly. “We’re going to my place, I’m going to make you something to eat, you’re going to sleep in my guestroom, and if at any point I find that you walked out or climbed down the fire escape, I’m going to file a missing person’s report.”
Robby is silent until they’re in Jack’s kitchen, where they each take their respective spots: Robby sitting at the table, Jack standing at the stove and cooking, because Robby can’t cook for shit. Jack used to be a bad cook, too, a long time ago.
It hits him sometimes, the realisation that Robby has only ever known this version of him, the after image. After his tours. After his injury. After his wife. And still, despite all of that, Jack still feels like Robby knows him better than anyone, that he can read Jack in ways Jack can’t even read himself.
“You should go to sleep,” Robby says eventually.
Jack continues stirring eggs, careful to keep his eyes on the pan. Robby’s like some kind of wild animal sometimes, ready to bolt if he feels observed. “Yeah? Are you going to stay put if I do?”
“’Stay put’? Jack, I’m not actually your prisoner. Look, man, I appreciate you answering my call, but I’m all good now. I didn’t even drink that much, Carl was just overreacting.”
Jack grits his teeth to keep himself from saying something unkind, like how he isn’t sure that staring into empty space for hours on end is really better than getting drunk. “Are you going to tell me why you’re still here?”
“Excuse me?” Robby asks. There’s a strange note in his voice.
“You were supposed to be on your big motorcycle trip by now! What happened to Alberta?”
“I thought you didn’t want me to go,” Robby says quietly.
Jack puts a plate full of fried eggs in front of him and takes a seat. “I don’t want you to die in a motorcycle crash.”
“Yeah, well, s-“
“Brother, if you say ‘same thing’, I’m going to forget myself.”
Robby pokes at the eggs. Without meeting Jack’s gaze, he says, “I tried.”
“What?”
“I didn’t even manage to leave the city bounds. I couldn’t do it. I had to pull over, had a panic attack, drove straight back to the hospital. I didn’t even think about it. Do you get how messed up that is? I wasn’t thinking about where I was going, and I didn’t drive home, I drove to work. I mean – Jesus, is this God, trying to tell me something?”
“I don’t know,” Jack says lightly. “You’re the one who’s got that thing around your neck, you tell me.”
“No fucking clue. Maybe. Maybe I’m just supposed to go back to work tomorrow.”
Jack, who’s used to Robby saying insane things, forces himself to keep his tone measured instead of doing something ill-advised, like yelling. “Not a chance. You’re on a three-month vacation. At least give it a fucking week, man.”
“I can’t,” Robby says.
“If this is about your apartment, I can go in early later, talk to-“
“I don’t care about my apartment. I just- what am I supposed to do?”
“Get a gym membership,” Jack says. “Start a new hobby. Get laid.”
Robby snorts. “Your therapist tell you that?”
“Maybe not in those words. Listen – my shift starts in a few hours, neither of us have slept a wink yet, so I suggest we table this discussion and go to bed.”
It is, perhaps, a little cheap to go for the same tactic twice in a row, but once again it works: guilt flashes in Robby’s eyes, and he says, “Sorry for keeping you up.”
“Guest room’s yours,” Jack says, rather than telling Robby to stop apologising. “What happened to your phone?”
“Gone.”
“Okay, as in, you lost it, or you got mugged, or-“
“As in, I threw it into the Allegheny.”
Jack nods like this is a sensible thing to say, even as his heart twists. “Alright, do you want to borrow mine? I know you like to listen to your weird thunderstorm noises.”
“I don’t want to-“
“Just take the phone, man. But, hey – that means you’ve got to set an alarm and come wake me up, okay? I’m counting on you.”
It says a lot that Robby doesn’t call him out on what he’s doing. He just accepts the phone Jack shoves at him and allows himself to be effectively manhandled into the guest room. Jack waits until he hears the covers being moved and artificial rain noises to start before returning to his own bed. The dishes are going to keep until later; everything is. For now, he really does need sleep.
*
He hasn’t told Robby what time to set the alarm for, but Robby not only knows his schedule at work, but also his habits. This means that he’s startled awake at 4:30 pm by someone snapping his fingers directly in front of his face.
“Your mom called,” Robby says as he hands him his crutches. Saying he looks well-rested would be an overstatement, but it seems that he’s taken a shower, at least, because he’s wearing one of Jack’s sweatshirts.
“Really? She usually texts first.”
“She did. I called her back. Her washing machine wouldn’t start, so I walked her through what to do. She also told me to wear my helmet.” Robby stares at him.
“It’s possible I may have complained about you recently,” Jack mutters while he massages his stump. “What happened with the washing machine?”
“Fixed it for now, but I told her I could swing around while you’re at work, take a look.”
Jack thinks of pointing out that his mom has about four neighbours on her street who would do this for her, but then again, his mom also knows this. If she hasn’t told Robby, he’s not going to, either.
“Great,” he says. “You can take my car.”
“I can-“
“Remember you asking if God was trying to tell you something yesterday? God may be okay sending vague messages, so take it from me: if I see you on that bike this week, I’m going to get my toolkit and dismantle it. Drop me off at the hospital later and then take my damn car.”
Robby woke him up early enough that he has time to go for his morning – evening – run. Ironically, he’s only started running after losing his leg, another facet of him that Robby only knows the overhauled version of.
Today, he swings by the gentrified bakery down the street on his way back and pays fifteen dollars for two croissants and a muffin, the last one they’ve got left at the end of the day before closing.
“Someone wrote their number on the bag,” Robby calls out through the bathroom door while he’s in the shower, as oblivious to boundaries as most doctors Jack has met. “You must’ve made quite the impression.”
“I always do,” Jack calls back. “Being this hot is a curse, I’m telling you.”
“And yet you somehow manage.”
Jack laughs and accepts the mug Robby holds out to him when he steps out of the bathroom. He likes to have one cup of coffee at home, another at work if he finds the time, and that’s it. You never know what crisis awaits you at an ED; it’s better not to be dependent on anything to get through the night.
“Let’s get going,” he says after he’s had a croissant and Robby has nibbled on the muffin. “I’ll find out if Whitaker’s managed to organise an orgy in the twenty-four hours you’ve been gone or if it’s safe for you to come back.”
“And if he has?”
Jack claps a hand on Robby’s shoulder and winks. “Then I’ll get us an invite.”
*
In Jack’s experience, there are two types of people who prefer the nightshift: the ones with severe psychological issues and the ones who just get a kick out of seeing the really freaky shit. There’s an overlap, obviously, but it’s not as big as one might expect.
Jack mostly likes working nights because he sleeps better during the day when it’s light out and he can keep the curtains up, which is so objectively messed up that he can just tell his therapist is enjoying it in the same way Jack enjoys an RSI.
“Whitaker,” he barks the minute he enters the ED. “Got a minute?”
Whitaker attempts to exchange a nervous glance with Javadi, who is either too focused on her charting to notice, or actively ignoring him. “Um-“
“Great,” Jack says. “Walk with me.”
“Look, I’m really sorry,” Whitaker says as he hurries to match Jack’s stride through the hallways, “I told her it was a bad idea, but everyone was already in on it, and I just thought that it’s good to socialise-“
Jack stops to stare at him. Whitaker shrinks a little under his gaze. “Are you having orgies at Robby’s place?”
“What? No!”
“Good. Afraid the party’s over before it’s really begun, kid. Consider yourself officially relieved from housesitting.”
“Does that mean Dr. Robby is back?” Whitaker blurts out.
Fully aware that anything he says now is going to make its way through all the staff until he’s even seen the first patient, Jack just says, “You’ve got until tomorrow.”
“No problem,” Whitaker says and adds, “That’s plenty of time to get rid of the lube stains.” His face morphs into an expression of horror. “I don’t know why I said that, that was obviously a joke, um- I’m sorry.”
“If the place isn’t spotless, I’m using my military contacts to put a hit out on you,” Jack says. “That was a joke, too. Look at that, we’re both hilarious.”
“Right.” Whitaker cranes his neck like most dayshift people do when they’ve been talking to Jack for more than twenty seconds –hoping for an escape, ideally in the form of incoming trauma.
“Good talk,” Jack says, noticing Whitaker’s slump of relief. Jesus.
It’s not that he minds people knowing that Robby’s still in Pittsburgh – except he knows how these places work. Robby does, too; it’s why he was so determined to leave yesterday. Hospitals are like vampires, sucking away all your energy, ready to keep you working there forever.
If administration gets wind of the fact that Robby hasn’t left, he’s going to be considered available, sabbatical be damned. Obviously that’s going to happen soon anyway, but Jack would rather it happened on Robby’s terms, at least.
He took his phone back earlier, but because Robby lost – threw away – his, he’s got no way of knowing what’s going on with Robby, no way of knowing if he went to meet Jack’s mom like he said or if he got on that bike after all and took off. But then again, Jack kind of does know, just because he knows Robby.
It’s not necessarily that he thinks Robby wouldn’t try again; rather, it’s that he knows Robby would not kill himself if there’s a fellow human being in need of assistance. That’s something, right?
His mom ends up texting him a photo of the washing machine, which Jack takes as a sign that it’s fixed for good, as well as a selfie of her and Robby having dinner. He only sees the pictures at around half past three, the first time he gets a chance to look at his phone all night.
“What are you smiling at, Dr. Abbot?” Ellis asks. “Got a hot date or something?”
Shen, who’d been walking past the break room, stops dead in his tracks at the prospect of potential gossip. “Who’s got a hot date? Jack?”
“First of all, I don’t date,” Jack says, and starts ticking down his fingers as he goes on. “Second, if I were dating, I would rather die than discuss my private life with you two, and third, if I hear anyone chatting about this behind my back, I’ll know who was responsible for spreading that rumour. Are we clear?”
Shen and Ellis exchange a look. “Crystal,” Shen says and mimics zipping his lips.
Ellis says, “Normal people would have just said you don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jack says pointedly. “Now shoo.”
As soon as they’re gone, he hears Shen say, “I’m pretty sure shooing people is against union rules.”
Jack shakes his head and pulls up the photo of his mom and Robby again. They met a few years ago, when his mom had broken her leg after falling down a ladder. She’d been instantly charmed by him in that way most female patients above forty are, which Jack is usually finds funny and which he’d found very fucking strange coming from his own mother. Still, it’s nice, too. He doesn’t know what he’d have done if his mom had disliked Robby.
Robby, for his part, tends to treat Jack’s mom exactly like he treats patients and colleagues alike – endlessly kind, and reacting to any sign of affection on their part with supreme awkwardness. Last year, Robby had worked on his birthday, and Jack had stayed late just to watch Robby’s pained expression when the staff had gathered to bring out the cake.
Even though he wasn’t there, he can imagine well enough how the conversation between his mom and Robby went that led to Robby being strongarmed into staying for dinner. Robby probably-
“Dr. Abbot!”
Right. Break’s over. Jack shoves the phone back in his pocket and allows instinct to take over at the urgent tone of that voice: he starts running.
*
When Jack steps out of the hospital well over an hour after his shift officially ended, he almost would have walked past the car that’s parked on the sidewalk, if Robby hadn’t chosen that moment to roll down the window and wave at him.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been here since seven,” Jack says as he slides into the passenger seat.
“Got here ten minutes ago,” Robby says. “Want some of my coffee?”
“I’m good.”
“Well, you’d better be hungry, because your mom would not let me leave last night without giving me leftovers. You get a chance to talk to Whitaker?”
“Just saw him as I was leaving. He told me he left the key under the mat.”
Robby takes his left hand off the steering wheel to rub it wearily over his face. “Okay.”
Jack gives him a sideways glance as they drive. “You gonna get a new phone?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“There’s always a choice,” Jack says solemnly. He ruins it by smiling. “But also, you’re going to give me an ulcer if I can’t reach you, so please, for the love of God, get that phone replaced.”
“Noted.”
Robby drives them back to Jack’s apartment building and then follows him inside without either of them commenting on it. The whole thing is strangely domestic, even more so when Robby heats up a plate of casserole for him while he gets changed.
It’s been a while since Jack had that kind of domesticity. Fourteen years, to be precise. Weird realisation.
With the kind of self-reflection that comes after hundreds of hours in therapy, Jack can admit to himself that worry for Robby’s wellbeing isn’t the only reason why he wants him to stay. But the thing is – it is the main reason. That, too, he’s very aware of. In the grand scheme of things, Jack’s feelings are at the bottom of a very long list of things to consider when it comes to Robby.
Being friends with Robby comes with all the benefits of normal friendships, namely companionship and someone to watch the game with, but it has also come with unexpected side effects, namely this debilitating sense of concern he feels every time they go a couple of days without seeing each other. Sometimes, the concern hits even when they do see each other.
The domesticity thing, Jack remembers having with his wife. He doesn’t remember being worried every waking hour, though – although then again, his wife hadn’t worked in the ED.
Robby makes it easy to love him, Jack thinks. He just makes it really damn easy to fear for his safety, too.
After dinner – breakfast for Robby –, Jack considers asking what happens now, but he doesn’t. He just sets his phone on the kitchen counter and says, “You know when to wake me.”
“I’m not an alarm clock,” Robby says, but he doesn’t sound annoyed. If anything, he sounds a little relived.
It occurs to Jack then that, for all that he’d congratulated himself on his strategy of giving Robby tasks to tether him, perhaps Robby appreciates being tethered.
Well. That, Jack can do.
*
The next few days pass by in a blur. Jack is woken up, goes for a run, gets croissants and a muffin on his way back, Robby drives him to work and meets him later to drive him home again. They eat together, then Jack goes to bed. Rinse and repeat.
Although he’s never really sure what Robby does in those 12+ hours he’s on his own, one thing is clear: he doesn’t go back to his apartment. He wears Jack’s t-shirts, sweatshirts, socks and underwear, and when it’s time to put his jeans in the wash, he borrows a pair of Jack’s shorts because none of the jeans fit him.
While the idea of Robby in his boxers is appealing in its own weird way, somehow it’s seeing Robby cycling through Jack’s old West Point tees that really makes his pulse jump. The whole thing makes him glad Robby still hasn’t been in touch with any of their colleagues; Jack dreads to imagine what the rumour mill would be like if Robby walked into the hospital wearing a hoodie that says Abbot on the back.
Robby doesn’t buy a new phone, either. Jack takes to leaving his own phone with Robby before work, so that Robby can put on his thunderstorm-in-jungle remix or whatever it is he needs to listen to in order to fall asleep. Jack would mock him for it more, but he sleeps with his blinds up, so.
“I’m going to suggest something,” he tells Robby, exactly one week into Robby’s sabbatical. “You don’t have to say yes.”
Robby’s eyebrows shoot up. They’ve spent the past thirty minutes in amicable silence, Robby reading a book, Jack cleaning his guns. As always, Robby’s glasses make him look a bit like a professor, or at least how professors look like in the movies. “Okay.”
“You know I have two days off next week.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember when I said I’d like to take you camping with me?”
“I do remember that,” Robby says. “In fact, what I most clearly seem to remember about that comment was that you were joking.”
“I never joke about camping,” Jack says dryly. “You ever been?”
“My grandma was already in her seventies when she took me in, and I don’t remember my mom being the go-camping-type.” Robby’s tone is playful, inviting him in on the joke, and Jack has to clench his fists to keep himself from saying something unkind.
The thing is – he’s done three tours. He knows better than most people what horrible things mankind is capable of. Perhaps he ought to have grown numb to it by now, but he hasn’t, and neither has Robby.
There’s a speech Robby always gives the interns and residents at the end of the year that Jack has heard a handful of times over the past decade. One bit in particular has stuck with him.
The longer you work in the ED, the more tempting it is to become indifferent. But to become indifferent means to stop caring, and to stop caring means to do a bad job, and in this line of work, doing a bad job means people die. So, no matter what you do, you can’t allow yourself the luxury of indifference.
Jack is not indifferent. And this means that in spite of the numerous horrors he’s seen over the course of his life, he still gets angry every time Robby brings up his mom even in passing. He still can’t fathom the idea of abandoning a child. He still can’t fathom the idea of abandoning Robby.
But he bites back all of that, just like he’s done many times before, just like he bites back a lot of things when it comes to Robby.
What he does say is, “Well, if you’ve never tried it, that’s all the more reason to come to the National Forest with me. It’s less than a two-hour drive, it’s great for hiking, and my tent fits two people.”
Robby looks amused. “Are you going to protect me from bears?”
“If I have to,” Jack says, which is better than the more inappropriate, if equally true, I would take a bullet for you. “Not many bears in this area, though. I’ll happily protect you from deer.”
“My hero.”
“So, is that a yes?” Jack asks, because he’s played this game of deflection with Robby too many times to count.
Robby’s dark eyes dart, briefly, to the floor, then back up to meet his gaze. “Do you really want me there?”
“I always want you there, man.” This is it, Jack thinks. This is as far as he can go without crossing the line. It’s up to Robby to take or leave it.
Robby, who in all the years that Jack has known him has never once not seemed vaguely surprised to be invited to things, scratches his beard and looks down again. “If you’re sure.”
“Hey.” Jack waits until Robby’s eyes are back on him. “This is a great opportunity to introduce my best friend to the beauty of nature. What’s not to be sure about?”
*
When the handover is finished and the only thing standing between Jack and nature is a hot shower and a car ride, Whitaker, in a bewildering attempt at small talk, asks if he’s got any plans for his time off.
“I’m going hiking,” Jack says, a little distractedly, because Dana is gesturing at him across the room, looking worried.
Jack’s known Dana for as long as he’s known Robby. They used to work together more frequently before he started on the nightshifts. Once upon a time, he’d assumed Dana and Robby were a couple.
“That’s nice,” Whitaker says earnestly. “By yourself?”
“Best way to enjoy a hike. What’s up?” That last part is directed at Dana.
But before Dana can reply, Santos has already walked in and said, loud enough for the entire ED to overhear, “You’ll never guess who I just saw outside.”
Time to go, Jack thinks. He claps Santos on the shoulder as he walks past her and says, “Was it Santa Claus?”
The last thing he hears is Santos saying, “It was Dr. Robby” with the sort of gleeful pleasure usually found in gossip magazines. Then he steps through the doors, sees Robby leaning against his car with his sunglasses on, wearing another one of Jack’s t-shirts, and forgets everything else.
When they made this plan the other day, they decided to just leave straight after Jack’s shift, with one quick stop at his flat so that he can shower. Robby’s already loaded their things into the trunk by the time Jack is finished, and he’s using Jack’s phone to play Candy Crush.
“Ready to go?” he asks without looking up from the screen.
“Enjoy it while you can,” Jack says, shaking his head. “There are no outlets where we’re going. It’ll feel like time-travel.”
“That’s not time travel, that’s just Shabbat,” Robby says dryly. “Do you want me to drive?”
Jack shrugs. “Not really, but I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep behind the wheel, so I have no choice.”
“Hey. I’m an excellent driver.”
“Driving from my place to the hospital doesn’t count,” Jack says. “What’re you gonna do when a deer runs in front of the vehicle?”
“Crash,” Robby says, his lips twitching. “You know I ride in to work every day, right?”
“If you want me to take this argument seriously, wear a helmet,” Jack says as he slides into passenger seat, wearily watching Robby start the ignition.
He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he’s been up for almost twenty hours at this point, and the gentle rocking of the car does the rest, knocking him out before they’ve even left the busy streets of Pittsburgh. He only wakes up when Robby shakes him to ask for directions, over two hours later.
Jack has always enjoyed camping. As a kid, his dad would take him on long hiking trips on the Appalachian Trail every summer, and later, in high school, he’d go with his friends. He knew how to navigate by compass long before he joined the army.
He’d asked Robby if he’d been camping before, but if he’s honest, he’d already known the answer. Robby isn’t really an outdoors person. He can seem that way sometimes, with the scruffy beard and the hoodies and the boots he wears to work, but really, when he’d first mentioned his sabbatical, Jack’s first thought was that Robby would be better off on an all-inclusive somewhere in Europe. Robby is a city boy, through and through.
This is why, once they find a parking spot, Jack shoulders the pack that’s got most of their essentials in it, including their sleeping bags and the tent, and motions at Robby to take the rucksack. “We can camp pretty much anywhere,” he explains, “so we’d better find a good spot. I’m thinking we go down to the creek, set up there, then go for a hike.”
Robby had raised an eyebrow when Jack had claimed the larger backpack for himself. Now, after they’ve already been walking through the woods for perhaps a half hour, he lets out a soft laugh. “Were you a boy scout?”
“For two weeks.” Jack ducks under a low-hanging branch and watches Robby struggle to do the same. “When I was fifteen.”
“Two weeks? You lost interest that quickly?”
“I didn’t lose interest, I was kicked out. Watch your step.”
Despite Jack’s warning, Robby stumbles over his feet anyway. They’re not far away from the campsites near the river now, by Jack’s estimation, but the trail there descends steeply. “Do I even want to know what sort of crime would make the esteemed Boy Scouts of America expel someone?”
Jack holds up a hand and stops, then points to the left and says quietly, “Hear that?”
“Is it a bird?” Robby guesses, with the same bewildered uncertainty that Jack usually hears from interns.
The trilling increases in volume. “That’s the Cerulean Warbler,” Jack explains. “We probably won’t see it, because they nest in the treetops. It’s breeding season right now.” They resume walking, and after another few minutes, Jack casually says, “Turns out the BSA have a pretty strict policy against boy scouts kissing boy scouts.”
For a long moment, the only sounds are their footsteps on the soft forest floor, and birdsong. Then Robby says, “So they kicked you out? Seriously?”
“Did you think they ought to have given me a badge? Promotion of Homosexual Relations?”
“If it was another boy scout, you’d think that would have counted as community service.”
Jack laughs. “Yeah, well. At least it prepared me for the military.”
“DADGC?” Robby asks. “Don’t ask, don’t get caught?”
“Exactly. Look – see that? We’re almost there.”
Usually at this time of year, it can get somewhat crowded – although Jack can admit to himself that a hiker’s definition of crowded is not quite the same as that of, say, an average Pittsburgh citizen. But Jack’s shift ended early Tuesday morning, and he’s got Wednesday and Thursday off. Middle of the week isn’t prime camping time, so they have their pick of spots.
“Are you sure we can just leave our things here?” Robby asks once Jack has propped the backpack up against a tree and is rummaging around it to take out the food they brought.
“Sure, once I get the bear bag ready.”
“The what?”
“It’s like you didn’t look at any of the websites I showed you,” Jack says. “Get your head in the game, man.”
Robby proceeds to be more or less precisely as useless as expected while Jack proceeds to set up their shelter. While Jack pitches the tent, puts their sleeping pads and sleeping bags inside and hoists the bear bag up a tree, Robby sits down on a log and watches him with a mixture of faint bewilderment and something else, an odd glint in his eyes that Jack has never seen before. It’s strange – after this many years, he’d thought he was familiar with all of Robby’s expressions.
Despite Robby’s lack of help, it’s barely eleven when they get started on the hike. Jack picked one of the easier loops – six miles, not that much elevation –, but it still takes them over ninety minutes to reach the plateau that’s supposed to have one of the most scenic views in this area, Robby sweating like they’ve run a marathon.
“I can’t believe you do this every weekend.” Robby downs half his water bottle in one go before coming to sit next to Jack on the boulder that overlooks the valleys and hills, their legs dangling over the edge. “What is the matter with you?”
“Not every weekend. Sometimes I go to a gun show instead.”
Robby’s lips twitch. Now that he’s had a drink, he’s starting to look alive again. “Yeah? You’re gonna take me to that, next?”
“If you want,” Jack says. “I’d teach you how to shoot first, though.”
“Don’t want me to embarrass you in front of all the cool kids?”
“I’m just worried they’re not gonna elect me homecoming king.” Jack nudges Robby’s shoulder with his own and gestures at the view. “You gotta admit, though – this was worth it, right?”
Robby doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere on the thousands of acres of woods they can see from the outlook. “It’s nice,” he says. “Different kind of edge for once.”
“Brother, that is one fucked up thing to say,” Jack says fondly.
“Right – sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. You can talk about dark shit all you want, fine by me. Just as long as you don’t actually jump.”
Robby turns to look at him then. “What if I don’t come back?”
“What, like – from this trip? Because let me tell you, if you plan on disappearing into the woods, I’m going to find you and drag you back to the car kicking and screaming if I have to. You’re not pulling a Lawrence Oates on me in fucking July, man.”
Robby doesn’t laugh, which is a red flag in itself. “I meant, what if I don’t come back to the PTMC at the end of my sabbatical?”
Oh, Jack thinks. Right. Once again, Robby has managed to surprise him.
Somewhere, the Cerulean Warbler is singing again. The wind is whistling through the branches, the sky overheard is a clear blue, and years down the line, if he makes it to old age, Jack is pretty sure he’s still going to remember this exact moment.
“I’m not sure what you want to hear from me,” he says, picking every word as carefully as if he were stepping over a minefield, “so I’m just going to say what I think. I think the hospital would lose one of the best Chiefs of Emergency Medicine it ever had, and your absence would be felt deeply by many people.”
Robby makes a small noise then, but Jack isn’t finished.
“I also think,” he continues, “that if you can tell me honestly that you don’t want to set another foot inside that place ever again, then please, for your sanity and mine, stay away. You’re great at your job, but that doesn’t mean anything if it makes you kill yourself. That’s not a good bargain. It’s not worth your life. It’s not even worth your life it makes you just miserable and depressed.”
“So-“ Robby’s breath hitches. “So you think I should quit?”
“It’s your choice. Just make sure you choose something you can live with.” And then, because Jack still feels like it’s not enough, like every thing he’s said so far has been woefully inadequate, he adds, “And just for the record, I love working with you, it’s one of the only things that’s kept me sane this past decade. But more than seeing you at work, I want to just see you, man. Healthy and alive and not talking about fucking edges.”
Robby closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, there’s a strange look there. “Really?”
“What?” Jack says. “You don’t believe me?”
“It’s just – would we see each other if I quit?”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you imply that we only hang out because we’re colleagues,” Jack says, more testily than he intended. “You know that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
“How many colleagues have been sleeping in my guest room for the past few weeks? How many colleagues did I give my phone too? While we’re at it, I hope none of them hid in the boot to join us on this trip, because I only brought one tent.”
“That’s different,” Robby says. “You’re not doing all that because we’re friends.”
“If I was just on suicide watch,” Jack says flatly, “I would have initiated a 302 the second you called me from that bar. I mean, how much more friendly do I have to get? Do you need me to braid your hair? Make you a friendship bracelet? Or, I don’t know, do I have to suck your dick? Would you believe me then?”
He’s expecting Robby to laugh, or, perhaps, to tell him to fuck off. What he’s not expecting is for Robby to gaze back out at the valleys below and say thoughtfully, “I haven’t done that since med school.”
“What, gotten a blowjob?” Jack asks with a frown. “Missionary only for Dr. Robinavitch?”
“No, I meant- from a guy.” Robby turns his face away, but not quick enough to hide his blush. “Never mind. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“I think you’re saying you want me to blow you,” Jack says cheerfully.
Shock has only lasted a split second before giving way to sharp interest – after all, he had been in the military long before the DADT policy was repealed. He’s used to underhanded confessions. Even in his brief stint in the boy scouts, this is more or less exactly how it had gone, except him and Danny Carter hadn’t managed to work up to the blowjob part yet when they’d gotten caught.
Somehow, it doesn’t look like Robby’s as casual about this. His face is still red, his tone slightly panicky as he says, “What? I’m not saying that, are you insane?”
“So med school was an accident, then? Someone fell on your dick face-first?”
“I didn’t say that, either,” Robby snaps. “But I’m not that far gone yet that I would let you try and cure my depression by sucking my cock.”
Jack shrugs. “Why not? If it works, I doubt my therapist would have any complaints.”
“HR would,” Robby says, and Jack laughs.
“Now HR is an issue? If anything, I think they’d be delighted that you’re not my attending.”
“Okay, what are you doing?” Robby asks bluntly. “Please explain to me what is happening right now, because, and this might be a sign that I’m losing my mind, but it sure sounds like what started as a sweet declaration of friendship ended in you trying to coerce me into having sex with you.”
Jack takes a moment to consider this. Then he says, “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Jesus Christ.” Robby buries his head in his hands. “I didn’t even know you were into guys until about five hours ago.”
“I didn’t know you were into guys until five minutes ago,” Jack offers. “I’ve always adapted quickly to new situations, that’s just one of my talents. I don’t mean to brag, obviously.”
“Is one of your other talents being an asshole?”
“It’s up there. Along with wood carving and blowjobs.” Jack winks.
There’s a beat. Then Robby laughs. “I didn’t know you do woodcarving.”
“Look how much we’re learning about each other today. Nature is a goddamn miracle.” Jack glances at Robby, whose face, at last, has turned a normal shade again. He smiles. “Ready to go?”
“I thought-“ Robby breaks off, blushing again.
“We’re on a public trail, we’ve still got to hike back, and also, my dicksucking abilities are somewhat limited to places I can lie down in.”
After Jack gets to his feet, he offers Robby a hand up. It’s so dumb – they’ve touched a million times already, they’ve touched today, and still, when his hand closes around Robby’s this time around, gripping hard as he pulls, feeling Robby hold on to him, trusting him not to let go, trusting him to do this for him, somehow that sends a jolt of arousal through Jack.
Judging by the look in Robby’s eyes, he’s not alone in that. Robby hastily drops his hand the moment he’s upright again, rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat. Jack smiles again, inordinately pleased with himself.
They’ve only been back on the trail for a couple of minutes, Robby walking ahead, when Jack is gripped by a sudden fear, seemingly out of nowhere and yet so strong that it almost takes his breath away. He’s vaguely aware that he’s spiralling, but then again, is that so wrong when all prior evidence suggests that it’s justified?
You just make sure you come back. And if it gets dark, you call me.
He’s seen Robby walking away from him many times. So far, he’s always trusted him to come back. And Robby has, hasn’t he? Even when he’d convinced everyone he was about to die a horrific death in a motorcycle crash, he’d come back.
Jack has taken that for granted, he realises now. That is why he suddenly can’t stand the thought of seeing the back of Robby’s head for even a second longer, not if it means he can’t see Robby’s face, can’t guess what he’s thinking, can’t be sure if Robby is on the same page after the conversation they’d just had or if he, too, is panicking.
“Robby!” he calls out.
A few metres ahead, Robby stops and turns. “What’s-“
Jack doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence. He just steps forward, takes Robby’s face in both hands and kisses him.
It’s funny: he’s spent so long pushing away his own feelings that it comes as a surprise now that Robby kisses back immediately. All that talk about blowjobs and he still hadn’t really believed that Robby might be interested.
But Robby makes a small noise of pleased content and immediately opens his mouth, nibbling at Jack’s lower lip, his hands on Jack’s hips. His beard is a little scratchy, and he smells exactly like people do during a hike, meaning sweaty and in need of a shower, and Jack wants to bury himself in that smell, walk into the ED Friday night and have everybody know. Better yet, he wants to leave his own mark on Robby, bite his neck, leave not even the shadow of a doubt in anyone’s mind that Robby’s off-limits.
His mind feeling oddly foggy, lost in a haze of lust and plain relief, he doesn’t even notice that he’s started kissing down the line of Robby’s neck until Robby gently shoves him away, laughing. “Jack- wait-“
“I didn’t mean it,” Jack mutters against Robby’s lips. “All that shit about sucking your dick to make you feel better.”
“I know. What are you-“
“I do want to make you feel better, but in the interest of honesty, I’ve also wanted to suck your dick for some time for no altruistic reasons whatsoever.”
“Great.” Robby’s voice sounds a little choked, like he’s torn between embarrassment and laughter.
“Here’s the plan,” Jack says. “We go back to camp, I prove to you that I wasn’t lying about my skillset, we have dinner, then you can prove to me that you’ve learned something since med school, and in between all of that, we hope the tent doesn’t fall down. Then we go to bed. I want to be up early for the next hike.”
Robby shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re trying to micromanage sex. That’s psychotic, man.”
“And then,” Jack continues, ignoring Robby’s sparkling eyes, “on Thursday, we go back to Pittsburgh and go on an actual date. How do you feel about hitting the shooting range?”
“Like I’m going to throw up just thinking about it,” Robby says.
“We’ll work up to it.” Jack pauses. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
“No clue,” Robby answers promptly. “By the way you’re going, it sounds like you’ve pencilled in our wedding for next month.”
Jack doesn’t think he’d mind a wedding next month, but even he recognises this as a vaguely unhinged thing to say. What he says instead is, “My point is, I’m all in. I didn’t think it was on the table before, but now that it is, I’m all in. So when you inevitably start to get doubts, and you wake up in the middle of the night panicking, I want you to remember this moment, and everything I just said to you. Can you do that?”
Robby swallows. The amused look on his face is gone. “Yeah,” he says roughly. “Okay.”
*
So they go back to camp, where they proceed to have sex, dinner, then sex again. In the middle of the night, Jack, whose sleep pattern hasn’t been able to adjust this quickly and who is therefore lying wide awake, notices that Robby’s even breathing has turned erratic.
“Hey,” he whispers into the quiet and the dark. “Robby. Calm the fuck down. Remember what I told you.”
After several seconds, Robby whispers back shakily, “I can’t believe you tried to stop my panic attack by telling me to ‘calm the fuck down’.”
Jack laughs. “Did it work?”
“A little,” Robby admits. “Why are you still up, by the way?”
“Can’t sleep. I’m thinking of going for a run.”
“And get eaten by a bear? I don’t think so. Scoot over.” Robby shuffles forward in his sleeping bag until he’s lying half on top of Jack, one arm thrown over Jack’s torso, which, Jack supposes, is one way of preventing him from leaving the tent.
It’s nice, though. Kind of like a weighted blanket, Jack thinks, and that’s the last thing he remembers before he drifts off.
*
On Thursday, Jack drives them back to Pittsburgh. They don’t go to a shooting range. Instead, he drops Robby off at his apartment and tells him to pack a bag, because-
“I’m not gonna pretend it doesn’t drive me crazy seeing you in my clothes, but it might be nice for you to have more than one pair of jeans.”
Robby doesn’t point out that now that he’s finally back at his own place, he might as well stay there, and Jack doesn’t suggest it. He just tells Robby he’ll be back in an hour, ninety minutes, tops. Then he drives to the nearest shopping centre, goes to the Apple Store and buys an iPhone.
“Do you want help connecting it to your Apple ID?” the employee asks, and Jack hopes she offers this to every customer and not just the ones older than fifty.
“I’m good,” he says, and adds without thinking, “It’s for my partner.” The word seems to hang in the air for a moment, but the employee just nods and asks if he needs to buy a charger, too.
Jack is still thinking about it by the time he collects Robby, lost in his own thoughts while vaguely aware of Robby’s concerned looks.
“You okay?” Robby eventually asks when they’re in Jack’s living room, the heavy backpack unceremoniously dropped on the floor. “You’re not having second thoughts already, are you? Because we can still call it quits, man, no harm done. What happens in the National Forest stays in the National Forest, right?”
Once again, Robby’s voice has taken on that playful edge, asking Jack to make light of it, to laugh with him. But there’s also an undertone of real worry, and that, more than anything, brings Jack back to the present.
“Brother,” he says as he crowds Robby against the wall, “shut up. Ask me what I got for you earlier.”
Robby smiles into Jack’s kiss. “Is it a dead bird? A squirrel?”
“Very funny. I got you a phone.”
Robby’s smile disappears. “What?”
“I already put my number in. Nothing else, if you don’t want to. But it is killing me to think that you can’t contact me.”
“When I left for the sabbatical,” Robby says quietly, “I just kept thinking of you telling me to call you when things got worse. I kept thinking, things are definitely going to get worse, and I’m definitely going to call, and then you’d have to deal with all that.”
“So you dropped your phone in the river,” Jack says with a sinking heart.
Robby lets out a somewhat hysterical laugh. “Yep. Not my brightest moment.”
“But you turned around. You came back, and the second someone put a phone in your hand, you did call me. You did good, man. Did exactly as I asked.”
“Yeah?” Robby asks, his voice cracking on the word.
“Yeah,” Jack confirms. “So you’re going to take this new phone, and you can use it to play Candy Crush or listen to your weird thunderstorm noise shit, or you can put it in a drawer and not look at it again until you need it. But I still want you to call, alright? Promise me. For my peace of mind.”
He doesn’t really expect Robby to say no – not now, when Jack’s literally got him cornered. Even so, he’s hit by a wave of overwhelming relief when Robby says, “Okay. I promise.”
“Good.” Jack claps Robby on the shoulder, then follows it up with a kiss on the cheek. “Now, are you ready to learn how to shoot?”
That promise is all he needs, he thinks, that moment and much later, when he’s brushing his teeth and Robby is already in bed, solving a crossword. He’ll keep dragging him on hikes. He’ll fill his free time with so many activities Robby won’t know what hit him. If Robby throws four phones into the Allegheny, Jack is going to buy him five more. He’ll keep Robby tethered. Just as long as Robby does what he’s done for as long as Jack has known him, and keeps his promises.