Chapter Text
I’m just taking my first sip of my hot cup of coffee when my phone rings. It vibrates over my counter in a very annoying sort of way.
I heave a sigh as I grab it, expecting to be called in to work because of some reason. But it’s not PTMC calling. Instead it’s an unknown Californian number.
For several seconds I debate not answering—it is quite late in the evening. Normally I’d be at work now. Who from California calls me this late at night though? I could be asleep.
My curiosity gets the better of me and I answer.
‘Jack Abbot,’ I answer calmly.
‘This is doctor Vargas from Tri-City Medical Center Emergency Room,’ a female voice says on the other end. ‘I’m calling because Michael Robinavitch has been admitted following a motorcycle accident. You’re listed as his emergency contact.’
A heavy weight drops into my stomach and a vice squeezes around my chest.
‘How bad is it?’ Strangely enough, my voice doesn’t shake.
‘He’s stable,’ she continues, her voice calm and collected as well. ‘CT is reassuring. We’re waiting for him to regain consciousness.’
At least it feels like I can breathe again.
‘Can you tell me what brought him to California?’ she says then, and…
‘…California?’ I force out through my surprise. That’s not where Robby’s going. He’s going to that Head-Smashed-In-whatever. ‘He’s not supposed to be in California.’
‘Where is he supposed to be then?’
‘Canada!’ The complete opposite direction of where this woman says he is. What the fuck is going on? What is he doing? ‘Give me your details and I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can. I need to find the first flight.’
I jot down what she says on the notepad I always keep handy on the counter. When the phone call is over, I stare blankly down at it for several long seconds.
Robby, in a motorcycle crash, in California.
I can’t wrap my head around it. The crash, yes, motorcycles are death machines and Robby was not in a good mental state when he left. But in California? What brought him there?
Once that settles, it’s like being shocked back to life. My first—and really only—order of business is to find a flight that can get me there as quickly as possible.
I’ve just started on my three days off, so I don’t have to call in to work. Robby has no one else close enough to call about this, so I don’t. I’ll fill Dana in when I get back, when I have some answers. When he’s hopefully back here with me.
For now, all I have to do is find the fastest way to California.
Walking into an emergency room, deathly afraid of what will meet me there, is something I’ve only done once before in my life. I am used to emergency rooms as a physician, they don’t normally phase me at all, but when I’m in one as a civilian…
Last time my wife died.
Now Robby’s in here, in an unknown state.
‘Jack Abbot, here to see Michael Robinavitch,’ I tell the clerk at the reception area. ‘I’m his emergency contact.’
They let me back right away, and that damn vice squeezes tighter around my chest. That’s bad news, right? Not having to wait in the reception are of an emergency room is bad fucking news.
A nurse—I don’t catch her name, too worried about Robby—leads me over to him. She says something about a doctor stopping by, but I don’t pay that any mind either, because now I’ve got eyes on him.
He’s alive. He’s awake. But those are the only good things I can say about the current situation.
Because he’s lying in bed, dressed in a gown instead of the scrubs and fleece I’m used to seeing him in. His head and face seems fine, no visible injuries—does that mean he actually used his helmet? His hands seem fine too, but there’s a bandage around his left forearm.
‘Hey brother.’ I step into the room, relief washing over me.
He turns his head on his pillow to look at me, but his eyes are slightly foggy and out of it.
‘Go home, Jack,’ is all he says as he turns his head away again.
‘I thought I told you I didn’t want to be contacted.’ This isn’t good. This is so far from good. ‘What happened, brother?’ It could’ve been an accident. Accidents happen, even to people who leave on a sabbatical depressed.
He doesn’t answer me, just keeps his head firmly turned away. A very clear dismissal, but also something that tells me everything I need to know. If Robby was in an accident, he would tell me. He would bemoan the fate of his beloved bike that he’s spent months restoring.
Instead he’s just lying there, silent, out of it, and fucking hopeless.
I march back out into the ED proper and over to the central hub.
‘I need to talk to a doctor Vargas,’ I tell the first nurse I see. Hell, she might even be the charge nurse, but I got no time for pleasantries now.
‘Doctor Vargas was on night shift,’ the nurse tells me. ‘Doctor Lee took over for her. I’ll get her for you.’
I lean against the central hub as I wait, head bowed and fingers tapping against the surface. When the nurse returns with a female Asian doctor, I spring into motion.
‘Doctor Jack Abbot,’ I introduce myself quickly. ‘Emergency contact of Michael Robinavitch. I want to sign a petition for a seventy-two hour hold.’
‘Why?’ She blinks, surprised by my quick introduction and demand, most likely. I haven’t even asked about Robby’s injuries.
‘Because if he walks back out of those doors,’ I point towards the exit for emphasis, ‘he’ll be right back in here, and the next time he won’t be as lucky.’
Doctor Lee nods to the nurse, who walks off, and then it’s just the two of us at the central hub. For as long as that last, which, based on experience, isn’t very long.
‘He’s not supposed to be in California,’ I tell her, needing to get the severity of the situation out there. ‘He was headed on sabbatical in the opposite direction. He’s deeply depressed and—and burnt out. I have just been waiting for this call. I should’ve signed a three-oh-two back in Pittsburgh, btu I didn’t, and now he’s crashed that fucking bike. So I am going to do it now, before it’s too late.’
Doctor Lee’s frowning slightly as she listens to me.
‘Doctor Abbot,’ she says carefully. ‘I appreciate your concern, but I can’t detain someone because a friend asks me to.’
‘I know.’ Fuck, do I know. If this was the Pitt, no one would stop me though. No one who could, anyway. Because those people knows Robby’s not okay, that he needs help. No one would push back, they’d accept it. But here no one knows Robby, they have no idea how much of a downward spiral he’s been in.
‘He hasn’t expressed any suicidal intent to us,’ she continues.
‘Of course he hasn’t.’ I cross my arms. ‘He’s the Chief of our ED. He knows what to say to get out of here quickly.’
She blinks. ‘Chief of your emergency department.’
‘Yeah.’ He hasn’t even shared that little tidbit, huh. ‘He’s been working in emergency departments for going on thirty years. He knows exactly what to say.’
‘Then tell me what you’re seeing.’ She folds her arms loosely, attention solely on me. ‘As his coworker and as his friend.’
‘He’s been in a spiral for months,’ I start hesitatingly, a little unsure where to begin and how to say it so she knows just how bad it is. ‘Maybe years. He’s a very good physician, and that hasn’t changed, but he’s not sleeping, not eating, he’s snappy and quick to anger at work. And he’s usually a very patient guy who enjoys teaching residents. The last shift before he left was—’
How can I even describe it?
‘The ones closest to him tried to talk him out of this trip, tried to get him to seek help himself, but… It obviously didn’t work. When I walked into that room just now…’ I glance over my shoulder towards where Robby’s lying. I can’t see him because of the curtain, but I bet he’s in the same state he was when I left. ‘He didn’t even ask about the bike. It’s all he’s talked about for months before he left, and not a single word about it.’
It’s the biggest red flag for me right now.
That bike was everything to him and now it’s… what? In pieces, or scraped up, or impounded somewhere?
‘He told me to leave,’ I add then, getting emotional at the dismissal. ‘He’s never done that before. He’s my best friend, we’ve known each other for years. He was not happy to see me.’ And the worst of all… ‘He’s not relieved to be alive.’
‘If I tell you he doesn’t meet the legal criteria for an involuntary hold… what will you do?’
‘Stay right here. Watch him.’ I let out a shaky breath. ‘But I can’t watch him forever. He needs help.’
Her lips purse as she thinks that through.
‘He’s an ED attending.’ My breath is faster than normal. I’m so fucking afraid of losing him that it’s interfering with both my mind and my body. ‘He knows how the system works. He is never going to admit to active suicidal intent to anyone who can stop him from going through with it.’
I can stay, I can watch him, but eventually I have to leave him. For work, for the store, for the fucking toilet. And what then?
‘You know what you’re asking me to do?’ She studies me for a long moment.
‘I do.’
‘He’s your best friend,’ she points out.
‘Yes.’ He is. Which is why I’m doing this.
‘You’re asking me to take away his autonomy,’ she points out again, as if I don’t know.
‘Temporarily.’ I nod.
She doesn’t answer immediately, but lets out a small sigh and glance towards Robby’s door too.
‘Everything you’ve told me is concerning,’ she says at last. ‘We’ll conduct our own psychiatric assessment, but I think an involuntary hold needs to be seriously considered.’
‘That’s all I ask.’ I let out a slow breath of relief.
‘If our evaluation supports it, we’ll need collateral from you,’ she continues. ‘We’ll ask you to complete the petition.’
‘I will.’
‘Most people hesitate doing this.’ She watches me carefully.
‘I already did, back in Pittsburgh.’ I grit my teeth. ‘I won’t make that mistake twice.’
‘Doctor Abbot?’ Doctor Lee’s voice comes from behind me. I bend down to get the bottle of water from the vending machine, then turn towards her. ‘We’ve finished our assessment.’
One look at her face is enough for me to tell what comes next.
‘He meets the criteria.’ She holds up a form, that she puts down on the counter to her side.
I walk over, holding my water bottle tightly in one hand.
‘Your signature is the only thing missing.’ She slides the form towards me.
I look down at it, and see the “Petition for involuntary detention” written in big, bold letters at the top. My hand hesitate over the pen, not because I’m uncertain, because I know that this simple signature will cost.
‘Once I sign…’ I draw in a shaky breath, then let it out. ‘You’ll let him know he’s being detained?’
‘Yes.’
He’ll know it’s me, because you can’t put someone on an involuntary hold anonymously. But no matter what it’s going to cost, I know this is the right thing to do.
So I pick up the pen.
‘Then let’s keep him alive long enough for him to hate me.’
And I sign.
Doctor Lee waits until the nurse leaves before she sets her sight in Robby. Not that it matters much because he’s not looking at her.
‘Doctor Robinavitch, we’ve completed your psychiatric assessment.’ He doesn’t move, expression doesn’t change one bit. ‘Based on our assessment, we’re placing you on a seventy-two-hour involuntary psychiatric hold.’
‘No.’ His voice is calm, almost flat. ‘I’m leaving.’
‘I’m afraid you can’t.’ Doctor Lee stays calm.
I try to too, but my heart’s picking up speed in my chest.
‘I can walk out whenever I want,’ Robby says flatly.
‘Not under these circumstances.’ Doctor Lee folds her arms. ‘You emergency contact provided collateral information and signed the petition supporting involuntary detention.’
He finally looks up, gaze meeting mine. His eyes are brimming with anger and betrayal and hurt.
‘You signed a three-oh-two on me?’
‘I did.’ I nod for emphasis because what the hell else can I do at this point?
‘It’s actually called a fifty-one-fifty in California,’ doctor Lee points out quietly.
‘What happened to talking each other down off the roof?’ Robby ignores her complete, just continues to stare at me.
Doctor Lee’s attention sharpens at that, however.
Hopefully she doesn’t decide to put me on a seventy-two-hour hold as well.
‘We’re not on the roof anymore, brother. This goes beyond standing on the wrong sides of the guard-rails.’ Standing up there contemplating is not exactly healthy either, but contemplating and attempting is in vastly different categories. ‘I signed the petition because I think you’re going to die if I don’t.’
He laughs once, a hollow sound.
‘I never once three-oh-two’d you when you were on the wrong side of the guard-rails, Jack,’ he snaps.
‘I go to therapy, Robby,’ I snap back. ‘I work through my demons. Something you consistently refuse to do, no matter how many times I’ve offered to share my therapist’s number.’ Why is he such a stubborn asshole? ‘You’ve got us all worried about you, brother. Dana’s beside herself, Jefferson’s asking if either of us has heard from you every time he’s down for a psych consult. That woman you fucked before you left is always around asking about you too. Not a single one of us has heard a thing in two weeks, Robby!’
None of what I’m saying penetrates that thick skull of his. I want to reach out and strangle him, but that’s counterproductive to putting him on a hold to save his life.
‘You are not okay, Robby,’ I continue, just as upset. ‘And I’m not going to continue to stand back and watch you drive away again. Because I’m the one who’s going to get the call that you’re fucking dead! I fucking thought I did yesterday, Michael. Do you have any idea what that feels like?’
‘So you’re punishing me for a fucking accident?’
‘Look me in the eyes, man, and tell me you didn’t crash that bike on purpose.’ I stare at him, refusing to blink. ‘Fucking tell me it was an accident and I might believe you.’
His jaw works, but then he looks away.
‘See? You can’t do it.’ I shake my head. ‘Because that would be a lie. And you’re not a liar, Robby. You avoid, you put shit off, and sometimes lie by omission, but you don’t flat out lie. You can’t.’
‘Fuck you, Jack,’ he says in a broken voice.
‘I am not doing this to punish you, brother.’ My voice breaks too. ‘I’m trying to save your life.’
‘Never thought you would be the one to do this,’ he says, voice choked and head bowed. ‘All those talks on the roof, that’s our thing. Talking each other down after bad shifts.’
‘Yeah, Robby, that is our thing.’ Our talks on the roof are good, nice even, once figure our shit out and decide to go back for another day, another shift. ‘But you went from passive to active pretty fucking quickly here, man, and this is me doing whatever I can to make sure you make it through.’
He closes his eyes, and for a long moment doesn’t speak. Am I being too optimistic hoping that my words actually do penetrate now, and that they sink in?
‘Go home, Jack,’ he says then, a repeat of the first words he said to me today. ‘Fucking go home.’
‘No.’ I’m not leaving him in this state.
‘I don’t fucking want you here!’
The anger is expected. Of course it is, after I put my signature down on that form. I knew it was coming, but I’m still not entirely prepared for it. It hurts to be pushed away like this, when it’s been us against that damn guard rail for years now.
I stand there for another minute, trying to get my emotions in check. Doctor Lee gives me a sympathetic look, then nods to the door.
And so I walk out, and Robby doesn’t look after me once.
I go in early for my next night shift so I can talk to Dana before we’re both too busy. The past two days have been hell on my regularly schedules life. Going to California, going home again the very same day, and then being unable to settle down or sleep or think properly since.
‘Abbot. Look at you,’ Dana greets me as I step up to Central. ‘Did they kick you out of the apartment, or did you just forget how to sleep?’
‘I need a word.’ I can’t muster a smile or any form of humor right now, not like I usually would, and Dana goes still.
Al-Hashimi, who was talking to Dana, glances between us, then nods as she slips away. Robby’s residents are also gathered round Central, likely getting their charting done before heading home for the day.
‘Ambulance day.’ I jerk my head that way. Dana hands off whatever it is she’s holding to Perlah, then hurries after me.
‘Alright, we’re out of earshot,’ she says as the double doors slide shut behind us. ‘Spit it out, Abbot. You look like you’re carrying a corpse, and if this is about Robby, I swear to God I don’t have the stomach for whatever game he’s playing today.’
‘I had him put on an involuntary hold.’ I turn around abruptly to face her, and catches the shock pass over her face before she pushes it down. ‘I got the call,’ I say then, giving her some context. ‘He crashed his bike in California.’
‘California?’
‘Yeah, right.’ I laugh hollowly.
‘Is he okay?’
‘Physically, yeah.’ I hold tight to the strap of my backpack. ‘Mentally? No. So I did it, got him put on an involuntary hold.’
‘In California?’ She looks up at me from over her glasses.
‘Yeah.’ And I’m fucking back in Pittsburgh. ‘Two days ago. I haven’t heard anything since.’
‘Shit.’ Dana seems to be lost for words.
‘He’s never going to forgive me, Dana.’ It’s not the worst part of all of this, but it’s the part that’s sticking with me right now. It’s what’s kept me up the past two nights.
‘You really thought he was that bad?’ she asks, matter-of-fact now what most of the shock has settled.
I nod before she’s even finished speaking. This is the worst part, that Robby actually got that far and I didn’t do anything about it until now.
‘I knew he was bad before he left.’ Who didn’t?
‘Abbot—’
‘I was waiting for the phone call, Dana.’ My jaw clenches. ‘And I got it.’
Her expression softens.
‘I mean, it was a better call than I expected, honestly, but…’ I choke up again. ‘Still a shitty fucking call to get.’
‘Did he say he did it on purpose?’
‘He didn’t have to.’ Robby’s eyes, the blank look on his face… It haunts me. Hence why I haven’t been able to sleep for two fucking nights (well, days for any normal person that doesn’t exclusively work the night shift). ‘He didn’t even ask about the bike. Not if it was salvageable, or where it’d been towed. Not a single damn question.’
Dana nods, lips pursing slightly. ‘So you signed the papers?’
‘I asked for the papers. I wasn’t going to wait for psych to maybe decide he was fine because he knows the right things to say.’ Robby’s been skating by, avoiding anything that even smells of therapy (even that damn trauma counsellor after Pittfest).
Dana studies me for a long time. ‘Yeah, he’s not going to forgive you for that, Abbot, not for a very long time.’
‘If at all.’ It’s been over a year since the Langdon drama, and Robby still hasn’t gotten over that. I’m lucky if he ever speaks to me in a friendly way again, to be honest.
‘I’d do it again in a heartbeat,’ I tell her, nodding to myself. Because it is true, I would do it again. Even if Robby never wanted to have anything else to do with me, he’d still be alive to make that choice.
‘Then you made the only decision you can live with,’ she concludes.
‘I don’t know about that.’ I let out a humorless laugh.
‘No?’
‘I can live with him hating me.’ I stare out across the ambulance bay. ‘I can’t live with losing him forever.’