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“EKG is normal.” Frank held out the paper for both doctors to examine.
“You sure?” A trembling hand grasped the corner of it, pulling it into focus.
“Check it out. You can be your own second opinion.” Frank took in the rapid breathing and glossy eyes.
“What’s going on?” Robby finally appeared in the doorway, his stethoscope already swinging off his neck. He forced his hand through the neck collar, felt the sweaty and clammy skin brush against his hand. “You staying hydrated?”
“100%. I'm doing everything right. It's everything around me that's all fucked up. It's that patient from the water slide with the tib-fib amputation—”
“Wait a minute.” Robby’s hands came up in mock placation. “Is this a panic attack because of your leg issues?”
Jack’s eyes leveled. “What? No—” Jack struggled to find the words. “That woman is about to undergo major replantation surgery, I-I remember—I thought. W-when I thought they could do that for me…and I—”
“Congratulations. You're empathizing. That's what happens when you've been through something similar.”
“That's not—”
“Jesus. Do you need to go home? You should go home.” Robby scoffed at him. He looked at Frank for validation but didn't receive any.
“No, I'm fine.” Jack started to sit up. He pulled the EKG stickers off his chest.
“I don't need the fucking liability. Go home.” Robby practically bellowed. “And the rest of you, the last time I checked, the ED is a shit show. So let's all get back to work, huh?”
Robby shoved open the exam room door and narrowly missed running into Baran in the process.
Frank looked between Jack and Baran carefully. She nodded her head out towards the bustling emergency department. “I believe Mel's sister is waiting for you.”
He took the cue, squeezing Jack’s shoulder, and quietly leaving the room. Baran let the door close before she moved towards Jack.
“Is Dr. Robby always like this?” She carefully lifted Jack’s prosthetic leg and helped him swing it over the side of the bed. He uncharacteristically shyly rolled down his pant legs. His previous charisma deflated.
“That’s just how he is. He’s under a lot of pressure, it’s fine.” Jack waved a hand dismissively. He adjusted his shirt and belt.
“You should go home, Jack. Your shift isn’t until later tonight.” Baran smiled. Unlike when Robby suggested it, she was patient. She waited for Jack’s refusal. It never came. He stood and nodded.
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It was an hour later before Baran was able to regroup with Robby. Her steps exaggerated to keep up with his long strides.
“Ben, our slash-trake kid from the water park had some purposeful movement in pre-op.”
“That's a good sign. Take the win.” Robby took the corner sharply, on a mission.
“We need to talk.” Baran spun in front of him, his feet skidding to a stop.
“We are talking.”
“In private. What the hell was that with Dr. Abbot earlier?”
He shrugged. “That was tough love.”
Baran ran a hand through her hair, pushing the loose curls back into place. “You are senior leadership. He was obviously struggling, and your advice was ‘go home’?”
Robby’s eyes narrowed. “This is the ED. It's not for the faint of heart.”
“It's not for the unempathetic either.”
Robby had to stifle a groan. “He is not having a panic attack because of the patient. He’s having one because of personal baggage. What he needs to do is pull his head out of his ass and focus on the work.”
Baran didn’t pry, instead turning it back on him. “What about you? What do you need to get some basic human empathy back?”
He shrugged uselessly, stepping away.
Robby tapped his foot impatiently. He lined up the sticky notes on Dana’s desk for the third time. Jack was late to handoffs. Technically, he wasn’t late; it was 6:40 p.m. But anyone who knew Jack the way Robby knew Jack would know that it was unusual.
Still, he waited. He eyed the residents and med students as they slowly petered out. The ones who left early were ones he would remember when it came to Match Day.
“Hey,” Jack nodded at him as he walked in.
Robby checked his watch. 6:59 p.m.
“Just in time for rounds—” Robby stood; the ache in his back protested dully.
Jack made a show of looking at the clock. “Don’t worry about it, Robby. Your shift ends at 7 p.m. Someone else can catch me up.” He dismissed him easily and walked past Robby.
He gnawed a little on his lip before shrugging. Jack was being petty. He guessed he deserved that. Come sunrise, Jack would be over it.
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Robby cornered Jack in the ambulance bay. He had skipped out early on morning handoffs. And then the following night. In fact, it had been almost a week since they had last said anything more than a greeting or a goodbye.
Robby thought maybe Jack just needed some alone time. But it seemed that only applied to Robby. He was going out for drinks with Baran. He had sat down with Samira to help her apply to fellowships. He had even been the designated driver for Trinity and Mel the other night.
“You avoiding me?”
Jack’s mouth twisted. “Not really.”
“If this is about last week—”
“I heard her replantation was unsuccessful.”
The ambulance bay doors hissed open. Dennis and Frank were mid-conversation when they stopped. They both looked awkwardly between the two attendings.
“MVA, 7 minutes out,” Frank offered as he crept through the opening between them. Dennis followed suit, both men standing a little distance away. Robby knew they were listening, try as they might to look like they weren’t.
Jack was looking at his feet. He rocked back and forth on his toes.
“Who told you about the waterslide patient?” Robby sighed.
“Dr. Al-Hashimi. We got beers the other night.”
“Ah.” Robby tutted. “So you can forge meaningful interpersonal relationships.”
Jack looked up, Frank and Dennis’ backs still to them. “It’s nice to talk to someone who can be…self-reflective once in a while.”
“I’m not doing this right now…not with an audience.” He nodded his head to the two residents.
“Why not? I thought you would be comfortable discussing personal matters in public?” Jack’s shoulders were nearly touching his ears from how hard he was guarding his body.
“Jesus, Jack. Don’t make this about me. You had a panic attack because a patient lost her leg. Every time a kid scrapes their knee, do I have to worry about you spiraling?”
“I’m spiraling? Really?” Jack lowered his voice. “Who talks who off the roof?”
The sirens were getting louder. Frank started moving towards the rushing ambulance. The EMTs, Boscoe and Otero, popped out.
“Singular passenger. MVA. Hit a tree. Not sure if it’s SI or LOC. Stable airway.”
Robby started back towards the ambulance, letting Frank and Dennis move forward first. “Why don’t you come over after my shift? I know you’re off; I set the schedule.”
Jack nodded before disappearing into the building.
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Jack toed his shoes off and threw them into the corner by the entryway. “I love what you’ve done with the place,” he called out.
“I haven’t cleaned. Haven’t had any company recently.” Robby responded from whatever cavernous hideaway he had buried himself in. He emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered.
“If that isn’t a cry for help, I don’t know what is.” Jack moved past him, opening the fridge and frowning at the lack of edible food.
“I didn’t invite you over for you to play therapist.”
Jack shut the fridge door firmly. He double-checked it latched. Robby’s fridge had been having suction problems for years now.
“Why did you invite me? I can’t give you what you want.” Jack shuffled awkwardly against the wall. He leaned into the corner. The kitchen table stood between him and Robby.
“…and what exactly do you think I want?” He looked at his countertop. The mail pile was starting to get out of hand. He wouldn’t be surprised to see a birthday party invite from when he was 10.
“You want me to forgive you.”
Robby’s eyebrows shot up. Baffled.
“You want things to go back to normal, for me to pretend the past week happened. And in turn, forgive you for what you said.”
Robby looked away. He laughed a little. “Do not therapize me, Jack.”
He didn’t respond for a minute. He looked around Robby’s kitchen. The picture on the wall was still crooked. Jack had been on Robby for years to buy a new frame. He stuck his thumb out and straightened it minutely.
“You know you were the first person at PTMC I told about my leg.”
Robby shrugged. He moved to the living room, not waiting for Jack to follow him. Which he did.
But instead of sitting on top of him. Or next to him. Or sitting at all, Jack stayed standing. He leaned on the arm of the couch, imperceptible to most, but not to Robby.
“If it’s hurting, you should sit.” But neither person moved.
“I told you first because I trusted you. I trusted you could handle that baggage.”
“Just sit—” Robby toed the coffee table back a couple inches, making an opening for Jack to sit next to him on the couch.
Still standing, Jack continued, “And I didn’t think you would weaponize it. Back then, I don’t think you would. But now…now it’s like you think it makes me weak, like I can’t do my job.”
“Your leg isn’t the problem.” Robby squeezed his eyes shut, let out a shuddering breath. Jack waited for him to continue. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to without prompting, he tried again.
“What is your problem?”
“You are.”
“Wow.” Jack laughed incredulously. “I’d say I’m flattered, really, I—”
“Stop talking, please.” Robby rubbed his hand down his face, finally opened his eyes.
“You’re jealous? Is that what this is? Robby, man, I never wanted this. If I come across—”
“Fuck you, Jack.” Robby stood. He crossed into Jack’s space. “You think I’m jealous of a guy who has panic attacks in the middle of the floor at work. Who can’t sleep without the police scanner at full volume. Who has half a leg, and a dead—”
“I’d stop right now if I were you.” Jack finally sat. He lowered himself carefully into the chair, a frown deepening on his face.
“It’s just incredible. Truly.”
Jack started biting on his fingernail. “What is? My life?”
“That you can be so fucked up and everyone loves you still. The residents, the patients, the staff. Every new person who walks into the Pitt doesn’t leave uncharmed by you.”
Robby paced the living room floor. He wasn’t even talking to Jack anymore. He was talking himself in circles.
“It’s like you have this forcefield around you.”
“I don’t—”
“You cry, and you’re brave. You lose your temper, and you’re passionate. I can’t be those things—”
“No one’s asking you to be a saint, Robby. It’s not possible to be perfect every single time—”
“And yet, you are!” He let out a breath he had been holding. “You’re the problem!”
“I don’t know, Jack. I really don’t. I mean, I already thought you were better than me.” He ran his hands through his hair. “But then you made it through PittFest without breaking down, and it was like suddenly everyone knows you’re better than me.”
Jack stared at him thoughtfully. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Do you resent me?”
“No, of course not.” Robby clipped.
“You do.”
“I don’t. Not really. It’s just…”
“…just, what?”
“You can be all types of awful, but no one ever seems to abandon you. You get chance after chance—”
“Is that what this is? I destroyed some idealistic image you had of me in your mind? I didn’t even know this is what you thought of me—”
“When I had my breakdown, I did it privately. Away from anyone who could perceive it as weakness. You about damn near crashed in the middle of the waiting room—”
“What about Whitaker?”
“Wha—?” Robby’s head shot up.
“Dennis saw you in Peds. Saw your breakdown. He told me. Before you did, actually.”
“Whitaker wouldn’t say anything.”
“No, but the night shift nurse would. Or that rad tech, umm…” Jack snapped his fingers. “Nancy—no. Nora? Or is it—”
“Nicole, I think.”
“No, that’s the per diem front desk girl.”
“There can be two Nicoles.”
Jack’s lip almost fell into a smile. The corners wavered before settling into neutrality.
“So you also had an audience. And Dennis didn’t tell you to go home. Or that you weren’t fit for your job. Or that your connection to your patients made you weak.”
“I never said you were weak.”
“No…” Jack’s fingers twitched by his sides. “You just implied it in front of our staff.”
“I was upset. Shit, I’m still upset. Because you act like you can have both. You can care too much, fall apart in front of everybody, and everyone calls you brave. I spent twenty years making sure nobody ever saw me crack because that’s what this job demands.” Robby took a deep breath. “It’s not fair.”
Jack nodded in thought. His hands were in his pockets.
“I see.” He pulled out his car keys. “I’m going to go.”
“What? That’s it?” Robby scrambled to his feet. He followed two steps behind Jack.
“Yeah, I just— I need to talk to my therapist, I think. I’ll call you, okay?” Jack wasn’t looking at him, and he was struggling with his shoes.
“Jack, brother, I didn’t—” His hand pushed the door shut as Jack tried to pull it open.
“You’re being mean, Robby. I need to think.”
“You knew this is what was going to happen, and you still came.”
Jack tried the door again, but Robby’s full body weight pressed it closed.
“Yeah, so what?” Jack struggled again to pull it open.
“So, what? You think you lose your leg and you become some inspiration to—” Robby breathed out. He was bigger than Jack, but Jack was stronger. “I think, no matter how much you convince yourself, or your therapist, how well-adjusted you are…”
“Don’t finish that thought, Robby.”
“Maybe you’re still not over what happened to your wife.”
Jack punches him right then and there.
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“Nice, shiner.” Dana quips, her eyes scanning him over the top of her reading glasses. Robby doesn’t respond, just pulls out his stethoscope and coffee mug from his backpack.
“Dr. Robby,” Baran greets him. “Would you like to do a walkthrough with me?”
He nods, appreciative of the reprieve. However short-lived it may be. They round the desk, his tablet in his hand as he follows her past the different exam rooms.
“-He has a 9mm GSW to the left shoulder. CT angiogram negative. Surgery wants to admit for overnight observation.” Baran waited patiently for Robby’s response.
He didn’t immediately answer. His eyes were somewhere past her shoulder. She turned and followed his eyeline. He was looking at Jack, who was supposed to be off by this hour.
She turned back to the patient. She cleared her throat slightly. “Dr. Robby? Any concerns?”
“Repeat crits every two hours for the next six hours. Discharge on Ceftin. Close follow-up with PCP and ortho.”
Baran nodded dutifully. As she began to translate into layman’s terms for the patient, Robby excused himself. He got closer to Jack and Samira, who were discussing something quietly.
“-It’ll be our little secret.” Samira confirmed. She batted her eyelashes at him, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. When she noticed Robby watching, she cleared her throat and alerted Jack of his approaching form.
“Dr. Mohan, you can start pulling patients from the board,” he said.
She looked at Jack for a second, waiting for his permission before scurrying away.
“Pssh, you would think you’re her attending.” Robby shook his head in disgust.
“I might be. She was asking about night shift,” Jack answered.
“Samira won’t do well on night shift.”
Jack shrugged. “She might surprise you. She doesn’t tell you everything. There’s a lot of that going around these days.”
Jack turned to leave, his arms crossed. “Put some ice on your eye,” he called over his shoulder.
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Robby watched Jack talking to Frank about some pickup basketball team he wanted them to join. He shoved his glasses off his face and onto the desk in front of him.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Dana asked, materializing in front of him.
“Hmm?” He tried fruitlessly to play coy.
“About why you and Abbot seem to be in some lover’s quarrel and it’s ruining the mojo of this department?”
He huffed a laugh. “You seem to have it all figured out.”
“I’m worried about you, Robby.”
“Don’t. I’m not worth the extra wrinkles.” He stood up and moved towards the trauma patient coming back down from imaging.
“Langdon, Abbot, you guys want to jump in on this?” Robby called as he met the patient at the trauma room doors.
“What are we looking at?” Frank asked as he helped lift the patient from the stretcher to the bed.
“CT showed uni-facet dislocation. Difficulty breathing.” The radiologist offered.
“Okay, we need neurosurgery here, now!” Jack looked at the airway. The patient’s breathing was shallow and rapid.
“Garcia paged them already.” Robby shot back.
“We still need a neurosurgeon,” Jack reminded him impatiently.
Frank looked between the two attendings, a barely perceptible roll of his eyes. “Sir, you have a dislocation of two vertebrae that are compressing your spinal cord. That’s what is making it difficult to breathe.”
“Let’s prep for intubation,” Jack said over his shoulder to the nursing staff. Robby shook his head in disagreement.
“Closed reduction, traction on the neck.” He offered instead, putting his hand out to stop the intubation tray from getting any closer.
“I’ve never done that before,” Jack protested.
“Oh, really?” Robby asked sharply. “Langdon has before, right Frank?”
The entire room turned to look at him expectantly.
“...I have watched one...once. I’m not a neurosurge—”
“If we do nothing, he will have a complete spinal cord injury with quadriplegia being the best case.”
“What?!” The patient started to wheeze. His breaths came out short and hot.
“I can’t do this, guys. Jack, you wanted to intubate, right—” Frank started backing away, his hands up and shaking.
“Robby’s right. This is what we’re doing.” He caught Frank by the elbow.
Robby closed in on him. He lowered his voice. “I need you to doctor the fuck up for me. This is happening right here, right now.” Robby pulled him forward.
“You got this, buddy.” Jack confirmed. “We’re right here with you.”
Robby and Jack both grabbed a shoulder, Frank at the head. They could all feel it when the neck popped back into place.
Jack’s stethoscope was immediately on the patient’s chest, checking airway. “Brass balls, buddy.” He smiled.
Jack finally looked up. Robby was already looking at him. Robby turned back to the patient.
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“Frank, go take a lap. It’s okay.” Robby hit him gently on the back. He nodded in agreement and took a few deep breaths before walking to the staff room. Jack watched them quietly.
“Thanks for backing me in there,” Robby said, not looking at Jack. “He needed it.”
“It wasn’t me that suggested it. That was all you,” was all Jack offered.
Robby nodded. He wiped his brow. “I, uh...yeah. I should probably apologize.”
“Oh, really?” Jack parroted him from earlier, but there was no real malice.
“I was wrong for how I treated you...when you had your...”
“My panic attack?”
“Yeah.”
Jack moved towards the desk. He sat down and started charting. Robby waited for him to say anything else, but he didn’t.
“Jack, I’m sorry.”
He stopped typing. “I know you are.”
For a moment, Robby let relief flood him.
“—But like I said at your house, I’m not going to pretend this never happened.”
“I don’t expect you to.” Robby had come around the desk. He was bending and unbending a paperclip between his fingers. “I just want you to know that I am sorry.”
Jack finally turned away from the monitor and looked Robby in the eyes. They stayed like that for a minute. Maybe an hour. Maybe a lifetime.
“You guys need anything before I take off?” Dana asked, breaking their reverie.
“No, we’re good.” Jack smiled at her. She peered down at her desk where Jack was sitting.
“You make sure he doesn’t mess up any of my sticky notes again.”
Robby laughed. Jack mock saluted her. They waited until she had left through the doors.
“You know,” Robby got closer to Jack, “next time I’m being a dick, you could pull your punches a little.”
Jack looked up at him, a grin on his face. “That was me pulling my punches.”