Chapter Text
It’s nearing midnight when he wakes up to his phone ringing. It’s the number attached to the ER line back at the Pitt. The very same line that they use to call emergency contacts. He knows this because of how much he had to be the one calling from this line. It’s not uncommon for physicians to call the emergency contacts with their personal phones. However, after Adamson got an earful from Gloria last year about them having an actual phone line dedicated to it, everyone was making an effort to use it.
By the time Robby accepts the call, he’s already halfway through putting on the same pair of cargos he was wearing that day at work. After all, he’s only listed as an emergency contact for three people. One of them died ten years ago, and if the call came for any of the other two people, it was equally as bad.
“Robby?” He can hear the department’s steady commotion buzzing. It’s a striking contrast to Lena’s quiet voice. He makes his way downstairs, fast enough that if he isn’t more careful, he’s going to end up in the ER for a different reason.
“What’s going on?” He isn’t sure he ever put his shoes on faster than that. He pockets his keys and wallet, disregarding the jacket. He’s wearing the same shirt that he fell asleep in, and the cold bites sharply at every inch of his skin that isn’t covered. Not that it matters much.
He’s a good thirty-minute walk away from the hospital, and usually, he would use that as an excuse to clear his head after a shift. Now, however, he doesn’t hesitate another second before he jumps in his car.
“Jack needs you.” The car door slams shut.
Fuck.
“What happened?” He asks, rearing the engine to life. This was bad. Jack’s primary emergency contact was his wife, followed by his sister. If they couldn’t reach either of them, only then they would contact Robby. “I’m on my way.”
“He’s safe and alive. It’s best we tell you when you get there. Drive safe.” The call ends before he can protest. Scenarios are flashing through his mind, each more gruesome and worse than the previous one. Safe and alive didn’t mean well.
He makes it to the hospital in a total of five minutes. It’s dangerous. Especially with the frozen rain they’ve been enduring for the past week. He still makes it in record time and he couldn’t be more relieved. He could deal with Lena’s disapproving glare later.
He all but runs to the hub, making his way through chairs. It’s not as packed as it was when he was there five hours ago, but it was still too packed to be called a quiet night. When he passes through the doors, his eyes find him immediately.
Jack is standing by the hub, pacing back and forth. After a quick assessment, Robby comes to the conclusion that Lena hadn’t been lying. He was safe, and he was alive. Nothing seemed to be particularly wrong with him, except perhaps the feral look on his face, his messy hair, and the slight limp he had with each step. Despite the sigh of relief that comes out of Robby, he isn’t at all soothed.
When Jack turns around to walk back to continue his stroll to the other side of the hub, his eyes land on Robby. He sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes. For the second time this evening, Robby makes his way there in record time.
“Hey, brother, talk to me. What’s going on?” His hand finds its way to his friend’s shoulder naturally, once again scanning his body for any sort of injury. Only now that he is next to the hub does he see little Ellie on the other side of it. She’s almost four now, and the more the day passes, the more she looks like a mini version of Jack. Ellie, not unlike her father, seems to be completely devoid of any injuries.
Jack spares a glance at his daughter before looking back at Robby. “I can’t- She-”
“Alright, let’s settle you all to the family room,” Robby announces, putting weight on Jack’s shoulder to get him on the move. It’s not working. Jack is not moving an inch.
“No.”
Robby can’t recall the last time Jack snapped at him. “Okay,” He lets out a breath. “What about we put Ellie in the staff room, and we go take some air? Perlah and Bridget are working tonight. You know they love her. Sounds good?”
Jack’s intense eyes don’t leave him once, unmoving, unresponsive, assessing. If he’s honest, Robby is two seconds away from putting him in one of the Behavioral Health rooms and keeping him there until the expression on his face changes. Eventually, he lets out one nod. Short, barely there, but a nod nonetheless.
Robby doesn’t need anything more. His eyes find Lena, who is still by the phone. She must have heard him because she turns towards Ellie, offering to go visit the practice dummy.
It doesn’t take less than five seconds before Jack is bolting towards the staircase, Robby hot on his toes.
Over the years, the roof had sort of become their meeting spot. Had their shift been particularly arduous, it was a given that the other would join them there. Where Robby would find Jack would usually give him a pretty clear picture of how worn out he was. The door usually meant it had been physically exhausting. Too many patients, too little staff. Halfway through the edge, Robby had learned it usually meant there had been at least three codes. The edge was a very bad shift. Still, nothing compared to the mornings Robby found Jack on the other side of the rail.
Nevertheless, Robby had never climbed all the way up there. The elevator was a much easier way. He is starting to wonder if Jack has been climbing the eight floors all these years.
When Robby finally catches up to him –Dana was right; he should pick up exercising again–, the early December cold bites once again at his cheeks and arms, but he finds that he’s much less receptive, taking deep breaths of air as warmth clings heavily to his chest. He half expected to find Jack running to the edge. Instead, he collapses, hardly three steps into the roof. Jack’s breath is becoming more and more ragged, both of his hands tugging at his hair in a way that Robby has only ever witnessed once before.
“Hey, man.” He tries, kneeling in front of him. Aiming for calmness and composure, Robby grabs at both of his arms, easing them out of his head. “It’s alright, I’m here.” It’s most likely not alright, and he isn’t completely sure how him being here might be helping, but he’s still very much in the dark about what is going on.
Jack takes a deep breath, uneven and incomplete. Only then does he look back at Robby. His eyelashes cling together, held by unshed tears. “She’s in surgery. She’s not gonna make it. Sarah, she-” He chokes on his words. “Ellie has been asking about the Christmas decorations for so long. We were missing batteries for lights. I left for twenty minutes.” His voice dies down in a whine.
By now, Robby is rubbing slow circles on his left wrist. A gesture that Jack seems to hold on to, not looking anywhere else.
“Epidural Hematoma,” Jack whispers. Fuck. That’s not good. “She tried to attach some decoration up, I’m guessing. She fell, I think. I- She wasn’t responding, Robby. Ellie was crying, and she looked dead.”
Something seems to get released in Jack. His body sags forward, head falling straight onto Robby’s chest. His tears are falling freely now, sobs getting lost in the noise of the city around them. It’s resignation, Robby figures out.
For a while, Robby doesn’t say anything, only holds Jack close to him in an iron grip. It’s only when the cold does get to him, and when Jack’s sobs have been replaced by uncontrollable shivers, that he pats his friend’s back. “Come on, let’s get back down. Ellie probably wants to see you.”
At the mention of Ellie, something in Jack seems to snap. He straightens his back, dries the tears on his face, and motions to Robby for help to get up. “You know the rate of survival with epidural hematoma, brother. By the time we made it here she was out for thirty minutes already.”
When Robby doesn’t answer, not because he doesn’t know how to answer, but because he knows Jack needs to say it himself, he continues; “She was already dead when we got here.”
They slowly make their way inside; the heat from the staircase feels almost dizzying. This time, however, Robby directs him to the elevator. Not that going down stairs would be more of a hassle than going up, but Robby knows how Jack gets. When he’s mentally upset, he tends to get numb to the pain. He can already tell how much more weight he puts on his wrong leg.
“I can’t be a single parent,” Jack mumbles, almost quiet enough that if Robby wasn’t hypervigilant, it would have been lost in the sound of the elevator moving.
“You’re not alone, Jack. You got Grace.” He replies. And then, quietly, because he isn’t sure he wants this last part to be heard, he says, “You have me.”
Jack doesn’t reply to that, only stares ahead. “Ellie has school tomorrow. She was sick last month. She can’t miss again.” Robby lets out a laugh. Startled and bewildered. Jack only turns towards him, glaring. His eyes are still red from crying. “I don’t see what’s so funny about my daughter’s education.”
“She’s in kindergarten, Abbot.” He replies, a small smile still present on his face.
“That’s how it starts.” Jack huffs out, crossing his arms on his chest. He’s deflecting, making plans for the future because that’s what Jack does when he doesn’t know what is happening.
Robby shakes his head before looking back at him. “I’ll take Ellie home; you stay here for however long you need.” Even if Jack doesn’t reply, Robby doesn’t ignore the quiet acknowledgment that follows.
The staff room is filled with more people than he is used to. Perlah, along with Bridget and two other night nurses, is still there. He can spot Claudia, the social services agent they have posted for nights, along with a resident from the pediatric floor that Robby vaguely recognizes.
In the middle of it is Ellie, still in her Christmas-themed pyjamas, her curly hair now fixed into two neat braids. She’s sitting by the table, holding a bunch of crayons and even more pieces of paper lying around.
Robby notices how Jack’s posture seemed to change. A mix of solace and dread. His back is now straighter, both feet firmly anchored on the floor. He looks the same way he usually does when he’s examining how bad a trauma is, and when he should intervene.
“Hey, tiger. You’re not charming my staff, are you?” It’s obvious that he’s trying to keep the strain in his voice hidden. Robby has never been more admiring of someone. He sees this kind of shit every day. It’s different when it’s Jack.
Ellie’s eyes light up at the sight of her father. In a movement that might have been a little too dangerous if Bridget hadn’t been hovering over her, she jumps out of the chair and runs towards him. Jack easily catches her, picking her up.
All the people slowly fill out the room, and Robby makes a point to gently lay a hand on Perlah, thanking her.
“I made a card for Mommy.” The toddler declares next to them. Jack’s eyes fill once more with tears, turning his head the other way.
“That’s awesome, Ellie. Do you want to show me?” Robby says, flashing a bright smile to the little girl. In way of answer, Ellie only nods her head fervently, wiggling out of her father’s arms.
The drawing is exactly what he thought a three-year-old’s drawing would look like. It’s a mess of colors, nothing really working together. Still, he offers her a smile when she tells him what everything is supposed to look like. “That’s me, that’s Daddy, and that’s Mommy. This is Max, he is a puppy.” They don’t have a dog; Robby knows this much. In front of them, Jack hasn’t moved, fixated on them, but Robby hears the snorts that come out at the dog comment. “Did you know my Mommy is sick?”
Robby always found it impressive, the way kids’ attention is so quick to go from one topic to another. Although here, the correlation is quite explicit.
“I heard, yes.” Jack froze, shoulder stiff. Robby spares him a glance before looking back at Ellie. “Did you know that you and I are having a sleepover?”
Over the past six months since the aftermath of his and Janey’s breakup, Robby had been seeing a lot more of Ellie. He was fairly confident that the toddler liked him, and he knew for a fact that he loved her in a very similar way he loved Jake.
Last weekend, Ellie had begged Robby to stay the night, forcing him to read her stories until she fell asleep. Right now, at the prospect of having Robby sleep over, Ellie’s perked up, her small body trembling with excitement. She turned toward her dad, clapping her hands. “Really, Daddy?”
This was the moment that Jack seemed to lock back into the room, shaking his head softly. “Sure. But only if you’re really nice and you don’t let Robby touch the chocolate drawer.”
Robby wasn’t exactly sure how it was possible to see a kid beam this much, but she jumped once again from the chair and walked towards her dad in a chorus of thank yous.
It takes all of ten minutes to get Ellie ready, collecting all her drawings and putting her jacket back on. Jack handed his keys to Robby, promising him that he would get a taxi back home. Robby takes a second longer, looking at Jack up and down, tugging his sleeve to rope him into a hug. The breath that Jack lets out only further breaks Robby’s heart.
The ride back home is quiet, mostly due to Ellie immediately falling asleep. It’s nearing two in the morning, after all. As Robby is holding the toddler in his arms, passing by the threshold, he sees all the boxes of Christmas decorations. What truly catches his attention is a box of batteries, still untouched, lying on the ground.
He is almost methodical in the way he puts Ellie to bed. He takes off her boots, her beanie, and her jacket without her stirring awake. It’s only when she’s fully tucked in that she mumbles, her eyes opening. “Mikey?” She whispers, half asleep. She only ever rarely calls him like that. She heard her mother call him that once, and ever since, it had been a game to her to catch Robby off-guard.
Robby runs a hand through her hair, the braids already coming off. If there was one thing to know about the toddler, it was that truly no hairstyle stays on her hair for more than an hour. “Shhh, go back to sleep, tiger.”
It somehow feels a little wrong to use the nickname that he only ever heard Jack use, but it seemed to do the trick, her eyes closing in a second, her breath evened out in the next.
The house is ridiculously quiet, and despite the number of times he has been here, he feels like a stranger. So he gets to work. After all, he was never good at staying still. He picks up the boxes, mops the floor, puts the batteries into the lights. He clears out the dishes and Ellie’s toys. When he is done with everything, it’s nearing four. His phone is devoid of any news coming from Jack.
It’s only when he sits down on the couch, Jack’s ridiculously comfortable couch, that Robby feels the exhaustion that settled in his bones. Deep and unmoving.
He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, or falling asleep, but when he opens them again, Jack is standing in the middle of the living room, blank face lit up by the lights of the Christmas tree.
Robby doesn’t say anything, only uncrosses his arms and opens them. It takes him a second, but eventually, Jack seems to make a decision, walking towards the couch, melting into Robby’s arms.
“Gotta call the funeral home,” Jack mumbles.
“I’ll handle it,” Robby replies.
“I have a shift tomorrow.”
At this, Robby snorts. “You’re a fool if you think Monty is going to let you clock in.”
Jack hums. Robby can’t see his face, but he feels the wetness that is slowly forming on his shoulder. “At least these stupid lights look good.”