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Jack dreaded the sound of his phone ringing.
He’d kind of gotten used to living on edge ever since Robby left, knowing the only news of him would come through an unwanted, dire call—listening, lifeless, to a familiar set of words he knew all too well, only from the other side of the phone.
Robby had left, trying to escape his demons, well knowing he was surrendering to them. Because Jack had failed at making them leave. Because he’d failed at making him stay. He hadn’t been enough—not twenty years ago, and definitely not now.
Back then, fresh out of med school and full of naivete, he hadn’t been able to make Robby stay by his side. But these past few years, he thought he’d gotten better at at least, making him stay. Afloat, alive, present.
Their lives were tough, and Jack was happy to just exist by Robby’s side, to keep him grounded. Robby had allowed him that much.
It would never be enough to Jack—his yearning ingrained in his soul by now—but it was better than not having him at all.
Then Pittfest happened, and Robby drifted even further away. He was there, close and tangible, but he just couldn’t reach him.
Jack was mid-shift when his phone rang.
He usually never carried it with him when he worked, but he started to do it after Robby left. His heart always somersaulted at first. Relax, it could be anyone, he told himself every time. Ellis, Shen, his neighbor, always misstyping his daughter’s name. Not Robby, never Robby.
Robby was fine, he told himself every time. He’d be fine.
Jack’s blood froze when he saw the call was from an unknown number, and the cup of coffee he’d been holding smashed into the ground when a nurse from the University Hospital of Alberta started speaking.
・・・・・
Jack’s hands trembled the whole flight to Alberta.
He’d stopped believing in anything long ago, back in Afghanistan. But he prayed anyway, to whatever or whoever was up there, that Robby would be fine.
Robby was the only anchor left in Jack’s life. He did all he could, to be the light in Robby’s growing darkness—it was something that came naturally to him, even if it sometimes felt like moving mountains.
Robby was his rock, and he didn’t know what would happen to him, how terribly his world would shake and shatter, with him gone. He couldn’t even dare think about it. A world without Robby in it was inconceivable. He’d already lost so much, losing Robby would feel like a cynical, vile joke.
So Jack prayed, and prayed, and prayed again that whatever had happened to Robby—that whatever Robby had done—wasn’t as bad as his nightmares.
・・・・・
Robby woke up to a warm weight on his left arm.
He looked down to where he could feel it, and was met with familiar silver curls. Jack’s head was nestled between his arms, his cheek smushed against them. He was asleep, but even in his drowsy state, Robby could see the dark lines under his eyes and the crease in his furrowed brow.
His heart leaped at the sight, making him more alert. He looked at his surroundings, blinded by white lights. Unfortunately, it was a scenery he knew all too well.
“You’re up,” he heard suddenly. Green, glassy eyes staring at him. How did he do that? He’d been asleep only a second ago.
“You’re here,” Robby replied.
“Of course I am,” was Jack’s response. Like it was obvious. Matter-of-fact.
Robby needed him, so Jack was here.
A sharp zing of guilt rushed through him, the kind reserved only for Jack. The kind that reminded him where they ended, but not where they began. Their beginning was too far away now, so many lives ago. And their ending was always looming near, always Robby’s fault.
Because even back then, when Robby hadn’t yet seen half of this world’s darkness, he still couldn’t keep him. Didn’t deserve to.
Now, with his hopes shattered, so broken and lost, how could he? Jack deserved so much more, so much better.
But Jack was here, because Robby needed him.
“Jack, I’m s—”
“You’re fine,” Jack shushed him, grabbing at his hand with his usual strength. His strong hands always a tad bit smaller than Robby’s. “You should rest, brother. We’ll talk later.”
Robby closed his eyes, holding Jack’s hand, and rested.
・・・・・
Jack stayed with Robby in that stuffy room for two days until he got better enough to be discharged. He trusted his ducklings to cover for him while he was away. The Pitt would be fine.
And every time Robby tried to talk to him about what had happened, Jack stopped him.
Not here. Not now. Not yet.
Maybe it would’ve been cathartic, in a way, to have this conversation in a hospital room. But no, he’d already tried that before Robby left. The last day he’d seen him, the day he’d tried to change his mind. It hadn’t worked.
Jack opened the door to the hotel room he’d been staying in, a small, tacky thing five minutes away from the hospital. Robby limped behind him, silent. The only thing he got from the accident a broken leg and a light concussion.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” Robby said, closing the door.
“I’m your emergency contact. They called me,” Jack said, because it was true.
“I was fine, I’m fine, it was just an accident, Jack.”
“Sure,” Jack said, sighing, well used to Robby’s deflection. It sounded like an old song by now.
He opened the door to the small balcony, stepping outside to watch the last thin layers of the sun set under snowy mountains.
“Jack, you don’t—”
“Mike,” Jack said, serious as he’d ever been.
He’d tried being subtle, had tried giving him time, space, anything Robby needed. But maybe what he’d needed all along was the truth, laid out, plain and simple. It was the only thing Jack had left.
Robby stilled behind him at the use of his name.
“I know I didn’t have to, I know you don’t need me to. The problem is—” he stopped, sucking in a breath. “I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted, his knuckles white from gripping at the balcony railing.
“And even if I knew how, I wouldn’t,” Jack continued, this time turning around to face Robby. He stepped into the room, two steps and he was there, right in front of him.
“You’re not broken,” he said, tilting his face to find Robby’s eyes and look at him intently, gripping the back of his neck. “You’re just bruised, very fucking bruised, man, I’ll give you that.”
Robby let out a breath, doing this thing he always did involuntarily when he couldn't take it anymore, smiling through the pain. The creases of his face tight.
“I know because I am too, you know that. I get it, I get you, Robby. And I know you can pull away from all this fucking darkness, even if it seems impossible. I see it in you, you just have to see it yourself. You have to let me help.”
Robby denied with his head but didn’t pull away from Jack’s touch. “Don’t do this,” he pleaded, holding Jack’s wrists.
“I’m sorry, brother, but what’s the use? You already know,” Jack said, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. He pressed their foreheads together. “You’ve always known.”
Robby exhaled a shaky breath, their noses touching. It’d been so long since they were this close.
“I’m not selfish enough to ask you for this, not again,” Jack confided in the small space between their mouths, letting the implication sink. A shiver ran through his spine as he felt Robby’s touch on his wrist go soft, and he tried not to let his years-long yearning get the best of him.
“But I’m selfish enough to ask you to try harder, to get better, to never do this to me again,” Jack said, leaning back a bit and caressing his way up from Robby’s neck to his cheek. He found it wet. “If you can’t do it for you, do it for me, Mike, please.”
His thumb lingered there, stroking the damp skin, Robby’s beard always surprisingly soft to the touch. Robby allowed it, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch.
Jack admired him, all subdued and relaxed—everything he never was—and decided to indulge himself a little. The sharpness of his cheekbone, his pointed ear, the line of his neck. He traced every part of Robby’s face with reverent fingers. Fingers that had healed so many, wishing they could heal Robby, too.
They both seemed to be under some kind of spell, Jack letting his pleading sink in. And when Jack’s hand brushed past Robby’s mouth, Robby kissed it. He lifted his own hand to catch Jack’s and bring it closer to his lips, pressing little kisses across his knuckles until Jack was left breathless, not following.
Robby tugged him closer, Jack suddenly lightheaded.
“Rob—”
Robby crashed their lips together.
・・・・・
Jack tasted exactly like Robby remembered.
Their tongues also seemed to remember the tune they used to dance to, even after all those years, all those lives. Robby traced every part of Jack’s mouth, savoring it, making up for lost time. Everything felt too good to be real, too much, too nice, too—
Jack pushed at his chest.
“Robby, hey,” he said, finding his eyes, locking him in place by the back of his neck again. He always did that. Always touching him, always grounding him, keeping his head cool. Robby’s response pavlovian at this point.
“You don’t want this, you’re just in a bad place right now,” he said, trying to sound calm.
“For fuck’s sake, Jack!” Robby yelled, gripping at his hair, his eyes bloodshot and crazed. “You say I’ve always known, but you’re no better! You know, too!”
“I know what? What are you fucking talking about, man?”
“Come on, don’t give me that! Me, being head over heels for you all my fucking life!”
A heavy pause followed. Robby sat down at the edge of the bed, his broken leg couldn’t stand any longer.
Jack remained silent.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, or said anything, I just—”
“Why?” Jack asked, hurt.
Why didn’t you say anything, probably. Why now. Why not then.
He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he just waited, listening. He sat down too, his brow furrowed but his body language welcoming and open. Careful not to touch Robby’s injured leg, he scooted a tad closer to him.
“I don’t deserve to have you, Jack, I’m so fucked up. You say you get it but you’re not here every day,” Robby said, pointing at his head. “I fucked up so bad when we were young and then you kept… you kept being amazing, the best thing I’ve ever had. Don’t you understand? I couldn’t lose it, couldn’t lose you. You don’t—you deserve so much more than this.”
Jack huffed, a weird kind of smile tugging at his lips.
“You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, Robby, you know that, right?” he said as he got closer, once again pulling him by the back of his neck.
Robby allowed it, of course. Not that he didn’t want to, or that he could. Jack had always been stronger than him.
“You don’t get to decide what I deserve or don’t deserve. Just let yourself have nice fucking things once in a while, stop punishing yourself for things that are out of your control.”
Robby’s hands gripped at Jack’s arms, steading himself. He gulped, looking at him, letting his words sink in.
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
“But you do,” Jack pushed.
“I don’t! You keep saying that I knew, that I know! But I don’t—It’s been so long, Jack. So many things have happened in between. Amy… I don’t—”
“Robby, I’ve spent twenty years of my life convincing myself you didn’t want this. It's just us, what does it matter?”
“Jack…” Robby’s cheeks were wet again, everything was too much.
“I only want you to be okay, brother. I want you to have the things you want, the things you think you don’t deserve. If you want this, you know I’m game. If you don’t, then that’s fine, too. But you have to promise me that you’ll try, regardless of all this.”
Robby looked at him, really looked at him.
Jack was telling the truth. His eyes, pooling at the sides, filled with so much pain and yearning, were telling the truth. They always did.
Jack was always ready to give Robby what he asked.
The thing is, he was right—Robby had never dared ask for what he truly wanted. Afraid of everything he could lose, afraid that his demons would destroy the one good thing he’d succeeded at maintaining.
“I want this,” he finally admitted, his weight giving and falling into Jack.
Jack caught him in his arms. “Anything you want, Robby. It’s always been yours.”
“I’m so fucking scared,” Robby muttered into his neck, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the back of Jack’s t-shirt.
“Hey,” Jack said, his voice so steady despite everything. He pushed at Robby until they were eye to eye. “It’s going to be okay,” he said before kissing him slowly, merely a soft brush of lips, nothing like the heated thing from before.
Robby melted into it and followed after him when he pulled away, asking for more. Jack smiled and indulged him, kissing him again, and again, and again.
“More than okay,” he added for good measure.
And what could Robby do but believe him?
In more than twenty years, Jack had never lied to him once.