Archive of Our Own

Jack knows, as he's pulled into a firm embrace the minute he steps back through the doors of the Pitt, that Robby's had a hell of a shift. He can see it in Robby's tired eyes, feels both desperation and relief in the hug. He wishes he could flick a switch and stop time, even for a few minutes, just to give Robby the chance to breathe and take a minute for himself, but they can't, not with an unknown number of gunshot victims already on route. Time is ticking away.

Robby starts his briefing, his words laced with a tension that most people wouldn't notice. Jack has been attuned to Robby too long, and to him it's like a foghorn going off. He can't help but wonder what version of Robby will be left over after the MCI takes everything from him. He makes a mental note to make sure Robby doesn't leave the building without him.

As Robby talks, Jack's eyes drift from person to person, some he's known for years and some he only met earlier that morning. They look absolutely terrified, and while Jack is all for baptism by fire, this is baptism by fucking nuclear explosion.

When the first patient is rushed through the doors, a red band on their wrist, Jack is ready. He's trained for this.

As patient after patient is wheeled in and more continue to arrive by van, truck and ambulance, Robby desperately checks each one, looking for Jake amongst the injured. Every unfamiliar face fills him with relief, while guilt bubbles up in its place. They might not be Jake, but someone out there cares for these people, and the knowledge that he could still be wheeled in at any moment lingers in the back of his mind.

All he can do is distract himself with the job at hand. Intubations, IOs, flipping a patient with Jack to check their back for injuries, liaising with Dana over equipment, moving from patient to patient, wherever he's needed. There's barely any time to breathe, let alone acknowledge just how horrific the whole situation is. The sound of people crying out in pain is like a chorus around him, and everywhere he looks, he sees blood. Blood on gowns, on the floor, on the walls, on his hands. It's everywhere.

Every chance he gets, he heads back out to the ambulance bay and their makeshift triage. Parker gives him an overwhelmed look, like she can't quite believe what she's seen, and he wishes he could tell her it's over when that's far from the case.

He's out there when a black truck speeds in, Shen and Parker already climbing up onto the edge of the truck to assess the injuries in the back.

Then Robby hears a voice.

"She was talking when we first got in the truck…there was so much blood, I tried to stop it."

Robby knows that voice.

"Jake?" He calls out as he heads towards the truck.

"Robby?" Jake calls back, voice thick with emotion. "Leah got shot, please help," he begs.

Robby leaps into the back of the truck without a second thought and looks down at the young woman. There's a gunshot wound to her chest, to the right side, over her lung. It's not good, but he knows it could be a lot worse. She has a chance at least, but only if they get her inside immediately.

"I've been putting pressure on it," Jake says.

"That's good," Robby reassures him, "Are you shot?"

Jake is trembling, his eyes wet with tears, "Mm-mmaybe my leg? Most of this is her blood."

"Alright, let's go, let's go."

He and Parker help Jake out of the back of the truck, and then Robby returns his attention to Leah, pulling her limp body onto a gurney.

As soon as they're through the ambulance doors, Robby stops the gurney and starts barking orders.

"Get him to yellow," he says as Jake is guided into a wheelchair.

"What? No, I want to stay with Leah, please," he pleads with Robby.

"You can't, I'm sorry, but I'm going to look after her, I promise."

He nods at one of the nurses pushing Jake's chair, and he starts taking him towards the yellow zone while Jake protests and shouts and begs the entire time.

With Jake where he needs to be, Robby looks up, sees Jack finishing with a patient and calls for him.

Jack glances over, their eyes meeting for a moment across a frenzied room, seeming to know what Robby needs. Jack quickly manoeuvres around the many gurneys to Robby's side.

"What've we got?"

"Eighteen-year-old female, GSW to the right anterior chest, non-responsive, lost a lot of blood…Jack, this is Jake's girlfriend."

Robby starts cutting off her clothes to see the wound properly.

"Okay, IO, unit of O-neg and let's get a chest tube in her."

They work together to stabilise Leah, working around each other like two dancers. They don't need words. Jack hands him the ten-blade before he's even asked for it. Robby steps back just as Jack moves into his spot. He doesn't have time to relish how well they work together. All he can do is acknowledge it. Be eternally grateful for it.

"Sorry," Mel interrupts breathlessly, like she's just sprinted across the room, "We need an attending over in pink."

Robby glances up at Jack as his fingers find the fourth intercostal space from muscle memory.

"Go, I've got this."

"You sure?"

Robby gives him a look, and Jack relents. Jack finishes taping up the wound as Robby pushes the ten-blade into Leah's chest. He's performed thousands of chest tubes over his career, and as Jack starts walking away, he's already inserted a clamp. Once he's happy, he forces the tube into the thoracic space. It pops in smoothly, and if they weren't in the middle of a mass casualty incident, he'd be securing it down with stitches. There's no time for that, so he uses some medical tape to hold it temporarily.

The chest tube works as expected, and as soon as her lung begins to reinflate, Leah's eyes flutter open. Underneath the oxygen mask, Robby hears her steady intake of air.

"Hi Leah, I'm Robby, Jake's friend. I'm looking after you, okay?"

She nods at him weakly, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

"You've been shot, it's serious, but we're going to get you up to surgery and-" He stops as her eyes widen at something over his shoulder. She's terrified.

He turns his head and feels his heart drop as he meets the cold eyes of a man in a bloodied paramedic's uniform. The man raises a gun and aims.

With only seconds to react, Robby throws himself over Leah.

When Jack finishes taping up the wound, he starts following Mel over to the pink zone. He's on high alert as they move through the space, his eyes flitting from one patient to another, assessing their status in seconds, checking if they need his help. This is what he's trained for, and that training came flooding back like no time at all has passed. While other doctors might struggle with the extra adrenaline rushing through their bodies, it makes him sharp and focused.

It's that training and his lightning-fast reflexes that help when the first bang fills the air.

Jack knows that sound intimately.

It's followed by two more in quick succession.

"Get down!" He yells to the room. He grabs Mel by the belt of her pants and yanks her down to the floor. "Everyone down, now!"

There's another bang, then another. There are screams, too, now, filling the air. His eyes dart around frantically as he presses his whole weight down on the young resident.

Talk to me at the end of the day

He feels her trembling underneath him.

Across from him, he sees Princess, back pressed against a pillar, her hands held to her mouth in prayer. On his other side is Jesse, his body covering a patient.

"Police!" A voice booms across the room.

Another round of gunshots fills the air, these ones different.

There's a moment, just a couple of seconds, where everything stops. There's no sound except the ringing in his ears.

One, two.

"Clear!" A voice calls out.

Jack scrambles to his feet, eyes immediately drawn to where the gunshots came from. He sees two cops looking down, and he knows with certainty that the shooter is dead.

"Everyone okay?" He calls out, "Call out if you're hurt!"

The ED comes alive again as if his voice is the permission everyone needs.

Noise ripples through the department as the realisation of what just happened sinks in deep.

The shooting has hit everyone like an explosion. No one expected the gunman to actually make his way to the hospital. No one thought he'd make his way inside.

The shock has hit everyone differently. Some are frozen in spot, others cry out, and some just start working like nothing even happened.

Jack heads back towards the ambulance bay doors, back to where the cops are still standing, giving every person he meets a quick once-over.

"Are you okay?" He checks with a hand on a shoulder or an arm, "You hurt?" They shake their heads at him, some still shaking from the shock, others barely meet his eyes.

He continues moving forward, and relief fills him as he meets Dana's eyes, then Lena's. They look shaken up but unharmed. There's just one last person to check in with.

"Robby!" He calls out as he makes his way to where Robby was last dealing with a patient. A girl, a friend of Jake's. "Robby?"

As soon as he's close enough, his eyes take in the sight of Robby's body lying limply over the girl.

Ice-cold dread fills him.

"Oh fuck." He rushes over, sprinting the last few steps, "No, no, no, no, no."

There's a bullet wound in his back. Even through the black scrub top he's wearing, Jack can see blood seeping into the cotton. His fingers dig into Robby's neck to feel his carotid, and there's a brief moment of relief when he feels a slow, weak pulse.

"I need some help over here! Someone get me a gurney!"

"Oh my God," he hears Dana exclaim.

He doesn't see who brings the gurney over, but it arrives in seconds, and suddenly he's surrounded by people helping to lift Robby onto it. As soon as Robby is turned over, blood spurts from another wound on his chest, just below his left clavicle.

So fucking close.

"It's a through and through," he calls out, immediately pressing down on the wound to stem the gushing blood, "Looks like it's nicked the thoracoacromial artery."

A nicked artery is bad. If Jack doesn't do anything, Robby will bleed out fast. He doesn't have minutes, he has seconds.

There's no time to waste, Jack heaves himself up onto the bed, straddling Robby's hips and torso. Without hesitating for a second, he digs his fingers into the bullet hole. With no visualisation, all he can rely on is touch as he presses in deep and feels around. Time slips away as he searches blindly, the wound still bleeding profusely around his fingers as he desperately tries to find the artery. Finally, he feels a pulse against his fingertips and applies pressure against it roughly. There's no time to be gentle.

"Gauze."

He holds out his free hand, and someone places some gauze in it immediately. He packs the wound around his fingers until he's satisfied that the bleeding is under control.

"Large bore IV in," A voice confirms, and Jack's only just aware enough to realise it's Shen. Good, Shen knows what he's doing. He trusts Shen. "First unit of packed red going in."

"How's he breathing?" Jack asks. It's tough, having to watch and not be able to do anything when all he wants to do is push everyone away and take control of the situation.

"Not well, his trachea's deviating."

Fuck.

Suddenly, Langdon's beside them, squeezing the blood bag tightly to force it down the tube and into Robby. His eyes are wide, desperate and, for a moment, Jack wonders what he must look like. Everyone knows he's the calmest in a crisis, the unflappable Dr Abbot, but right now, he feels anything but calm. There's an undercurrent of panic in every breath he lets out.

Everything feels like it's happening at once. There are voices all around him, but he can't quite tune in clearly enough to hear what they're saying. All Jack can do is keep his fingers pressed into the thumping artery while Shen and Langdon work around him. His fingers are a temporary fix, like sticking your thumb in a crack of a dam. It won't hold forever; blood is still pouring out of him faster than they can replace.

It's Dana's voice that cuts through the din.

"I know it's hard, but he would want you to focus on your own patients right now, not him."

Jack briefly bristles against the past tense used, then the words sink in, and he's harshly reminded that they're still out in the open and a lot of people are watching them battle to save the life of their leader.

Instead of looking up to face the room, he stares down at Robby's unconscious face and prays.

"His lung's collapsed," Shen confirms with his stethoscope. "Someone get me a thoracostomy tray!"

While Frank pushes gauze under Robby's shoulder to stem the bleeding from the entry wound, Shen runs around to the other side of the gurney and inserts the chest tube, working around Jack, still hunched over Robby's body.

"We should be glad it's a through and through, right?" Frank speaks up.

Jack glances over to Leah, where Parker and Samira are trying to save her life. He sees the new bullet wound in her chest, higher up, to the left. He says nothing.

Relief floods him temporarily as Robby's eyes open, blinking at first, then focusing on Jack above him.

"There are those beautiful brown eyes," Jack says, achingly tender, despite the situation they were in.

Robby looks up at him in confusion. For a moment, their eyes lock, and there's no sound, no hospital, no shooting, just them.

There's no avoiding the fact that Robby's life is literally in his hands forever.

The pain hits Robby all of a sudden, and he lets out a choked-off whimper.

"Ja-" he tries to speak.

"Shh," Jack hushes him, "Little busy here," He says, trying to keep things light despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through his system and the thud of his heart racing in his chest. His hand hurts from the awkward position pressing deep into Robby's chest, but he'll hold it there for as long as needed.

"Jack….I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Robby."

Robby shakes his head, "Forgive me."

"Robby, now's not the time."

Robby, stubborn as always, grits his bloody teeth. He's looking straight at Jack, no one else, "I forgive you."

Suddenly, Jack realises what Robby is doing, "Fuck you, don't you fucking dare."

Robby's face is pale as he perseveres.

"Thank…you."

"Stop that," Jack presses down harder, desperately. "You're not giving up on me that easily."

Jack waits. Waits to hear Robby tell him he loves him.

Robby's eyes roll back into his head before any more words come out. His whole body goes limp.

"He's crashing!"

"RSI meds NOW, 20 of etomidate and 100 of sux," Jack orders quickly from his spot on top of Robby.

Perlah appears with the meds ready, like she knew this might happen and pushes the meds into the IV without hesitation.

Jack watches from his position as Langdon rushes to the head of the bed and tilts Robby's head back swiftly. There's a quick adjustment, thrusting the jaw up before the laryngoscope is pushed down Robby's throat. He hadn't expected to find it so hard to watch Robby be intubated, but he can't look away, not now.

Only a few seconds pass as Jack watches Langdon slide the tube down and pull the metal stylet out, and he can't help but be reminded of just who taught Langdon everything he knows.

"Balloon inflated," Perlah confirms.

"Good breath sounds bilaterally," Langdon confirms as the tube down Robby's throat is connected to the Ambu bag, and he starts to squeeze it at regular intervals.

Jack notices the way he sucks in deep lungfuls of oxygen suddenly, too, like he's been holding his breath the entire time.

"Surgery is ready for him," Dana calls over.

"Gimme," Jack reaches his empty hand towards the bag.

"You got this?" Langdon asks.

"I've got two fucking hands, give me the bag."

Langdon squeezes the bag one last time and then guides it into Jack's open palm.

Jack is already counting from the minute Frank let go of the bag. One, two, three, four, five, six. He squeezes.

"What the fuck are we waiting for?" He growls.

The journey to the elevator and up to surgery feels like it takes forever. As Langdon and Perlah push the gurney, he tries to ignore the cramp in his fingers and the burn in his thighs as the strain of hovering over Robby builds. All he can do is keep counting, squeezing the bag firmly every six seconds, all while looking down at Robby's pale face and the tube down his throat. It'll be a while before he forgets it.

Each time they turn a corner or stop and start moving, his fingers shift inside Robby, and Jack grits his teeth and hisses a "Be careful," under his breath. He hadn't realised just how many fucking tight corners there are in the hospital until he's perched precariously on a gurney, straddling an unconscious man, racing to the OR.

Walsh's usual mask drops at the sight of the chief of the ED being wheeled into surgery with a gunshot wound and Jack Abbott straddling him, his fingers inside Robby's chest, the only thing stopping him from dying.

"Holy fucking hell," She curses, the only pause she allows herself before getting to work.

As soon as the artery is clamped, Jack is kicked out of the OR. He stumbles awkwardly away, ignoring the ache in his arm and the way he's limping a little more on his prosthetic. Standing at the viewing window covered in Robby's blood, watching Walsh take up the responsibility for saving Robby's life, he can't help but feel completely and utterly powerless.

He could stand there for as long as it takes them to fix Robby up, but there's an ER full of patients that still need looking after, and they're down an attending. With a bitter taste in his mouth and the vision of Robby's limp body frozen behind his eyelids, he forces himself to turn around and head back towards the elevators.

Jack is still down in the ED hours later, long after the last of the critical patients from Pittfest have been sent upstairs and the ER returned to normal operations. Long after he made a terrible speech to everyone to thank them for their hard work against the worst possible odds. Too many people stared back at him with tears in their eyes, too many pale, visibly shaken, changed forever. He's no good at speeches; he barely even remembers what he said. Robby would have known exactly what to say.

He's updating a chart at the main hub, waiting for news, ignoring the fact that today was supposed to be his day off and Shen has things handled.

"Jack," Dana tries. Her coat is on, her bag tucked against her. She looks like she's going home, but Jack knows better. She's probably already called to let her husband know she won't be home for a while yet. As much as he can tell that the impact of the day's events has left her empty and wanting to be anywhere other than PTMC, she'll be heading upstairs to wait for news on Robby. She won't be the only one.

Robby has no idea of the family he's built around him. But that's the thing, isn't it. You don't know what you have till it's gone.

"Jack," she says again, louder, yanking Jack out of his thoughts.

"What?" Jack snaps, sharp enough to make Lena flinch beside him and turn a few eyes from people walking past.

"You should go home, get some rest, you shouldn't be working right now."

He shakes his head at her hypocrisy. Go home, she says. Get some rest. Like that would make a difference. Like he'd actually be able to close his eyes and forget.

You shouldn't be working right now.

The words hit him square in the chest. Bullseye. It doesn't surprise him that she knows how he feels. It does surprise him that she thinks he could possibly walk out of the building while Robby's life is hanging in the balance.

"Do you know who should be working right now? Doctor Michael Robinavitch, but since he's not available, someone needs to."

"What's Shen, chopped liver?" Dana tries for humour, but Jack doesn't laugh.

Jack might be tired with only a razor-thin wall holding his emotions at bay, but even he notices Lena and Dana sharing a worried look.

Donnie comes up to him before the pair of charge nurses can say anything else.

"Uh, Leah's parents are here. I've put them in the relatives' room."

Jack thinks about how the day started, staring out at the Pittsburgh skyline as the sun rose. When Robby had stepped out onto the roof, bidding him a good morning like it was any other day, he remembers asking Robby what the fuck he was doing there. He'd known then that Robby working on the anniversary of Adamson's death was a mistake, but he had bit his tongue when all he'd wanted to do was tell Robby to go home.

"Thanks," Jack glances over in the direction of the room. He's stepped inside that room far too many times and told far too many parents, siblings, and children that their loved ones are never coming home. He's about to add one more to the list.

When the exhaustion becomes overwhelming, he finally pats Shen on the shoulder and slips out of the ED. He's not going home like Dana wants, and the last thing he wants to do is sit upstairs and wait. Instead, he heads down the corridor to Robby's abandoned office, presses the code on the lock and disappears into the dark room.

He switches on the desk lamp, angling the shade down and away to dim the light, then, with a groan, lowers himself down onto the couch in the corner. It's at least a decade old and far from comfortable, but Jack is too tired to be fussy. He takes off his leg, shifts down a little and lies back, slinging his arm across his face to block out the light.

He wakes up a few hours later feeling not much different to a message from Walsh letting him know Robby is out of surgery. She follows it up with a second message.

It was a tricky repair. Robby didn't make things easy, but hey, I'm the fucking best at what I do.

He's tempted to ask what she means about Robby not making things easy, but he has a feeling he knows. He'd rather not get confirmation that Robby coded on the table.

He takes a deep, steadying breath. He should feel some relief that Robby is alive and on the road to recovery, but he can't shake the dread that he's been living with since the moment he realised Robby had been shot. He should call his therapist, but he won't.

Outside Robby's office, he looks down the corridor, left and then right. Go one direction, and he's heading upstairs to the ICU. The other direction leads back to the ED.

Everyone probably expects him to head upstairs, to stubbornly sit at Robby's bedside until he opens his eyes, but he can't quite bring himself to do it. The memory of Robby's pale face is still so vivid in his mind, and the knowledge of just how close they came to losing him leaves him feeling cold and untethered. He nearly lost another person that means everything to him, and seeing him in the ICU is more of a reminder than he can handle right now.

He needs to keep working, keep himself distracted. He needs to pretend, for a little while at least, that everything is normal. Until he's back on solid ground again.

Before heading back to the ED, he washes up in the nearby bathroom and heads up to the cafeteria to get his caffeine fix. It tastes like shit, but it does the job.

The day shift won't be appearing for another couple of hours, so he sits at the hub and charts until his eyes swim.

No one says anything about his return, though Lena keeps glancing over at him like she wants to say something. She knows him well enough to know his stubbornness is far too strong to argue with. He's technically not needed. Doctor Howard will take over from Shen in a couple of hours, but he needs the distraction, and his reputation for turning up whenever he damn well pleases to help out means no one blinks an eye that he's still hanging around.

As the night shift finishes up and hands over to the day shift, the atmosphere in the department changes with it. The newest members of the team trickle through the doors, still looking a little shell-shocked and apprehensive about what the day will hold.

There's no Langdon; Jack doesn't know why he doesn't appear, but Collins does, looking guilty for not being present when the mass shooting happened. It's probably a good thing they have someone on shift not completely traumatised from dealing with a hundred gunshot victims, experiencing the shooter targeting their ER and watching their chief nearly bleed out in the middle of the room.

She's clearly heard about Robby, and Jack overhears her telling Princess that she plans to head upstairs to see how he's doing when she gets the chance.

"Have you seen him yet?" Heather directs the question at him, and Jack just presses his lips together and shakes his head.

"Doc Abbot was a badass," Donnie slaps him on the shoulder, just a little too roughly, "Hopped up on the gurney, just stuck his fingers right on in the exit wound."

Heather's eyes flash in surprise, "Is that so?"

Thankfully, two paramedics appear then, wheeling in a new patient, and he's saved from having to relive everything.

The steady influx of patients keeps him busy for the next few hours. He spends time flitting between trauma one and two when two tricky patients come in around the same time, and then he keeps himself busy checking in on Robby's ducklings. It's what he would want, he tells himself.

After lunch, Gloria finds him with a grim expression on her face.

"I assume you're able to step up and handle things until Robby is back on his feet?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" He answers her, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Good," she nods, "Carry on, call my office if you need anything."

She turns and starts walking away.

"There's going to be an investigation, right?" He calls out. She pauses midstep and turns back to look at him. "About how an armed assailant was able to enter the ED and shoot the chief of the department in the back?"

She gives a tight nod, "Of course."

He finally meets her eyes, hoping she understands he won't be letting this go, "Good."

Everyone seems to sense he's not interested in small talk, and for most of the day, he's left alone unless there's a medical question. His leg hurts, the couch did his back no favours, and the temptation to head up to the roof is far too powerful. Without Robby to encourage him back downstairs, he doesn't risk it.

All day, he's forced to drown out the many conversations about Robby happening around him. People talk about the way he shielded Leah's body with his own, gossip about who has been hanging around upstairs and a few suggestions that the department do a whip round and arrange some flowers and a card. It's unsurprising that Robby is the main topic of conversation. Even though he wasn't scheduled to work today, his absence feels notable. He's not just another doctor. He's their leader, their rock. Ever since Adamson died, he's been a constant port in a storm.

None of them truly understands what he's feeling right now. They're Robby's colleagues, maybe even friends. Jack doesn't know what he and Robby are, but he knows they're something a lot deeper. An inch south, thirty seconds later, or a less stubborn surgeon, and the story might be a lot different.

There's only so much room in his heart for his grief. Some days, the loss of Sarah is still all-encompassing. He's not sure he could have endured going through that all over again.

At some point late in the day, as Jack is considering a caffeine IV, he's pulled back into a trauma room, stepping through the doors right as Garcia is filling in Princess and McKay on what's happening upstairs.

"I heard he spiked a nasty fever around lunchtime; I'm sure they've got him on some pretty strong IV antibiotics."

Jack's heart does a flip in his chest. This is the first he's hearing about a fever.

"Has he said anything?"

Garcia shakes her head, "He's probably too out of it."

"Can we return the patient right in front of us, please?" Jack asks, tamping down his irritation.

Garcia and Princess share a look across the bed.

"I guess the rumours are true," Garcia says under her breath.

Jack pretends he doesn't hear her.

The room is dark when Robby's eyes flicker open the first time. They don't stay open for long; the pull of sleep too strong.

He wakes up again hours later, the room bright, and he winces as his eyelids crack open, letting himself get used to the sunlight before he opens them fully. Once the blurriness of sleep clears, he begins to take stock of everything. Even drugged up on some heavy-duty painkillers, enough to make his whole body feel floaty and disconnected from his head, he realises he's in a hospital bed, and the memories of what happened hit him out of nowhere.

His whole body shudders.

He distinctly remembers Leah's eyes widening, remembers seeing the gun and then not much else, though there is a vague flash of Jack's face in the flurry of memories. It doesn't make sense, though, because when he closes his eyes, he sees Jack on top of him, staring down at him in fear.

He pushes the thought to the back of his mind and tries to figure out what kind of state he's in. The first thing he notices is the sling, securing his left arm to his body; the second is the pressure in his chest, which he assumes is a chest tube. As he's twisting his neck to blink up at the monitor beside his bed, a nurse he doesn't recognise breezes in.

"Doctor Robinavitch," She gives him a wide smile, "Glad to see you awake. I'm Haley. How are you feeling?"

Good question.

"Thirsty," he decides, noticing his dry mouth.

"Well, that I can help with."

She glides over to a table where a jug of water and a cup have been set down and pours some into the cup. When she brings it over, she looks like she's about to lift the cup to his lips herself, which Robby frowns at, and he tries to reach out for it with his free arm.

"Oh, fuck," He chokes out, sucking in a deep breath to combat the sudden shock of pain along his shoulder.

"Ouch," Haley's mouth morphs into an exaggerated frown. "Let's maybe not move too much, okay?"She says in a high-pitched voice that should only be reserved for small children and pet dogs.

He grits his teeth, holding back a biting remark as she lifts the cup to his mouth and lets him take a couple of sips.

As she ups his medication and he feels it enter his vein, soothing away the ache in his chest, he glances over at the empty chair by his bed. Of course it's empty. No one cares about him enough to keep a vigil. Everyone in his life has a job, has a family, and other more important responsibilities.

A small part of him had hoped Jack might have stayed by his side, sleeping in an uncomfortable chair for hours until Robby woke up. He can't help but feel disappointed by the empty chair.

As much as he'd like to stay awake, the drugs take away the choice, and he finds himself being pulled back under. Thankfully, it's still bright when he wakes up again, and he realises he's only been out for an hour or two. There's someone in the chair this time.

His eyes open to the sight of Dana, legs crossed, flicking through a magazine. The much darker bruises on her face are the only sign that time has passed since the shooting.

She seems to sense she's being watched, and her eyes dart up to meet his. Her mouth pulls together in a smirk before she speaks.

"Well, there he is, fucking finally."

She looks at him fondly, softly.

"Wow," he croaks out, "Must've been a close one if you're this nice to me."

"Oh shush," she swats him gently with the magazine, "You scared the hell out of a lot of people."

He quickly translates her words in his mind: "You scared me," she's saying.

"How long's it been?"

"Two days. You spiked a fever yesterday, you don't remember?"

He shakes his head.

"How you feeling champ?"

"Like I got shot," he answers bluntly. A thought suddenly occurs to him, "Did anyone else-?"

"Everyone's okay," she says, her back straightening a little and her eyes dropping away from Robby's. She's not telling Robby something.

"Jack?" He checks because that image of Jack's face won't leave him.

"Jack's fine, well, as fine as he can be," she answers cryptically.

"Then who-" He freezes.

Cold washes over him. A new memory hits him, just voices.

"I've lost her pulse!"

"Starting compressions"

"Leah," he realises.

"I'm so sorry, Robby. She didn't make it…the bullet that went through you entered her chest, they did everything they could."

He turns his head away from her for a moment, letting the news sink in. He hadn't saved her. He feels a tear slide down his cheek.

"How's Jake?" He asks quietly.

She sighs, "Hurting."

He wants to ask her if Jake blames him, if he even wants to talk to Robby, but he can't quite bring himself to ask that question. He's not ready for the answer.

"You need anything?" She asks, "I was going to stop by yours, pick up some things, bring 'em over, any requests?"

He shakes his head.

"House keys are in your backpack, right?"

He nods.

"Well, it's still downstairs after…I'll bring that up too, your cellphone is around here somewhere, though it's probably dead. I'll dig out a charger."

He lets her fuss for a bit, fixing his pillow, making sure the water cup is within reach, while his thoughts are elsewhere. He wonders who talked to Leah's parents. He thinks about how fucking unlucky she was to be shot at a festival, be brought to a place where she should have felt safe, where she was going to be looked after, only to be shot again. Fatally. Like it was inevitable.

When you work in the ED, and you're confronted with both the worst and best of humanity, when you've seen every unlucky injury known to man, you don't really believe in fate. Things just happen, and sometimes you're the wrong person, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But now, he wonders if it was Leah's fate. There has to be a higher power because the thought of anything else feels like admitting defeat.

When it's time for her to go, he stops her in the doorway.

"Can you tell Jack I'm awake, that I'd like to see him?"

"He's been running himself a little ragged downstairs, but I'll let him know."

And then he's alone again.

Robby has never been a good patient. Ever since he was a twelve-year-old boy, having to stay overnight in hospital for the first time to have his appendix out.

Patience has never been his strong suit, and feeling helpless leaves him feeling grumpy and restless. Letting other people help isn't a natural feeling for him. The boredom of lying awake for hours, unable to move much, doesn't help either. Unfortunately, the TV in his room is broken, and only having the use of one arm means it's hard to hold open a book, so he has plenty of time to just lie there with only his mind for company. A scary place to spend time on a good day.

Luckily, now that he's awake, he starts to get more visitors.

As promised, Dana returns with his bag and some home comforts, including his favourite pair of sweats and some thick socks to stave off the cool hospital air on his bare feet. She brings some magazines and the obligatory gift of fruit.

She visits most out of everyone, and Robby notices she doesn't mention working any shifts booked downstairs, but he decides not to prod at that wound.

Heather visits after her shift, immediately apologising for not being there when it happened. Truthfully, he's glad she wasn't, and he tells her as much. She seems relieved, like the guilt has been hanging over her.

Princess and Perlah arrive together, presenting him with a card signed by the whole department and a potted flower to brighten up his room. They sit on either side of his bed, taking turns to share snippets of gossip that he doesn't really care about until his head hurts from turning his head back and forth, like he's watching a tennis match.

He even warrants a brief, somewhat formal visit from Gloria, who stands at the end of his bed, hands clasped behind her back, while she wishes him a speedy recovery. She reminds him that the ED is in capable hands until he's well enough to resume his duties. She mentions something about an investigation too, and that they'll want to get a full report of the day's events from his perspective at some point, but she assures him it can wait a week or two.

The one person who never visits is Jack, despite him asking everyone who visits to pass on the message that he'd like to see him. He starts to wonder if everyone has been lying to him from the minute he woke up, and Jack was shot too.

"Don't be ridiculous," Dana waves him off when he finally brings up his theory. "He's just busy, keeping your ED running."

Robby doesn't point out that as someone who knows what it takes to run the department, it's a lousy fucking excuse. Jack is avoiding him. For what reason, Robby doesn't yet know, but he's not going to let it go.

The feeling of having his chest tube removed sucks, but at least it means he's allowed out of bed finally. He grumbles from the minute Nurse Haley yanks the covers off him and starts swinging his feet off the bed. Another nurse, Jennifer, helps him sit up properly and twist his body around until he's sitting on the edge of the bed.

He hates every moment of it. He hates how his legs almost give out the first time he puts weight down on his feet. He hates how they hold him steady and say reassuring words that are supposed to make him feel better. He hates the tight pressure in his chest that spreads to his back that doesn't go away, even after they help him back into bed.

He should ask for more painkillers. They would give him some if he asked, but he thinks of Langdon and would rather lie there, stubborn and in agony, than go down that road.

He's desperate to get out of the damn hospital bed and home as soon as humanly possible, but the nurses keep a close eye on him, and Dana scolds him for pushing himself. Still, once he's able to walk around his room by himself, he's keen to start walking up and down the corridor.

At one point, he tries to make a getaway, determined to make his way downstairs and find Jack himself, but Nurse Haley finds him at the elevators and points a stern finger back to his room. She brings him some lunch after helping him back into bed, a tray of overcooked vegetables and a dry piece of chicken. He stabs at it with a plastic fork, unable to cut it with his other arm still confined to a sling. Dana rescues him a few hours later, bringing his favourite sub from a nearby sandwich shop. It's the happiest he's been in days.

The feeling grows when he discovers he's well enough to be discharged in the morning.

As much as he's excited to finally be able to go home, there's still some unfinished business he doesn't want to leave behind. The longer Jack avoids him, the worse he'll get. He messages Lena, and asks her for a very simple favour.

Jack yawns as he finishes a 12-hour shift and steps out onto the roof of the hospital. His leg hurts, his back aches, and he's really starting to miss the night shift. It's been strange, covering Robby's shifts. While it's been good to get to know some of the med students and interns, try and suss out which of them could handle a night shift, the atmosphere in the ED has been off.

It's not just the aftermath of being involved in one of the biggest mass casualty incidents in the state. It's seeing their leader gunned down in front of them. Even Javadi, Whittaker, Santos and King, who had only known Robby for less than a day, seemed to be suffering from the trauma of almost losing their leader.

That's how quickly Robby builds loyalty, builds a connection, he realises.

That's the side of Robby that Gloria refuses to see. It angers him that she would be so happy to see him go, that she doesn't see the great doctors the Pitt sends out into the world after a few years under Robby's guidance. They all came so close to losing that, and Gloria will never know.

It's late as he stands at the barrier. Dark enough for the lights in the skyline to be twinkling. He prefers the nights. The darkness hides so much of the ugliness. Everything is quieter. It's the only time he feels like he can breathe.

"You've been avoiding me."

Jack spins sharply, his eyes widening at the unexpected sight of Robby, gripping the doorpost tightly.

"What the— you should be in bed or at least a wheelchair."

He rushes over to Robby to offer more support than the door can offer. He holds out his arm, and Robby grips it solidly with his free hand, his fingers curling around his forearm tightly.

"How did you even— really? the stairs?" He shakes his head, not in amazement, or disappointment, but something else. Bewilderment maybe. Like he can't quite figure out why Robby would have pushed himself to the thin edge of exhaustion just to see him.

"You've been avoiding me," Robby says again, though this time Jack is close enough to hear the breathlessness in his voice.

"I've been working," Jack argues, sliding two fingers against Robby's pulse point. It's fast, but not dangerously.

"Same thing."

Jack glances around, looking for something to sit on. There used to be some plastic garden furniture up on the roof, but it looks like facilities removed them. The stairs are an option, but they're cold and hard. He wonders if he could convince Robby to return to his room. By the look on his face, probably not.

"Jack," Robby's insistent voice pulls him from his thoughts. "You've been avoiding me," he says for a third time. His voice is softer now, but there's no room for debate. Jack just needs to accept it.

"I couldn't figure out why at first, I know you must have got my messages."

Jack looks away so Robby doesn't see the shame on his face. Every time someone told him that Robby wanted to see him, he'd thank them for the message and promise to go up after the end of his shift. He just couldn't do it. The memories of what happened, finding Robby slumped over Leah, seeing the look in Robby's eyes when he woke up and realised something was wrong, Robby trying to say the Ho'oponopono to him. He wonders if Robby even remembers saying it, because Jack won't be forgetting any time soon.

"Then I started remembering some things," Robby carries on, despite Jack facing away from him.

Robby's not letting him get away with avoiding him anymore.

"I remember you hovering above me with this scared look in your eyes…I thought it was just a hallucination at first, because I couldn't think of anything that would make you that scared. Then the memories of what happened became clearer, vivid even."

Fuck.

Jack grits his teeth to hold back the flood of emotions that want to come out of him like a tsunami. Robby knows what he's fucking doing.

"Robby-" Jack tries to stop him, but Robby just carries on.

"But then when you wouldn't come to see me-"

"We should get you back downstairs, you're looking flushed" He attempts to deflect, but Robby is looking at him with those deep, knowing eyes. Like Jack is a puzzle he's just solved.

"-I realised something."

"Robby, please, I had my hand in your chest a week ago."

"Jack" Robby returns, filling his name to the brim with every emotion he feels: fear, love, desperation, admiration, hope. "You've been in my chest a lot longer than a week."

Robby's never seen Jack look so blindsided. This unflappable man who went to war, saved lives with bullets flying overhead, is looking back at him, stunned.

"Why did you never say anything?"

"We're two old, mostly broken men. We have enough baggage combined to fill a 747. I-" He stops, licks his dry lips, "There are days in this place where I'm only hanging on by a thread and the only thing that keeps me going is seeing you at the end of my shift for five minutes," He admits. "I've fucked up every relationship I've ever had. I wasn't about to lose you too."

Robby has rendered Jack speechless, a feat he wasn't sure was even possible.

"But I nearly died a week ago and I've been lying in that fucking bed over the last few days thinking about what the next ten, twenty, thirty years of my life are going to look like now and I realised if I don't say something now, you could be hit by a fucking bus and I'll regret not saying anything to you for the rest of my empty, unhappy life."

"Robby-" Jack finally speaks, but Robby interrupts him.

"Jack, I love you," Robby says, his eyes fixed on Jack. It's that simple, "And I'm fairly certain you feel the same way."

"Wow, you're just putting it all out there for the both of us, aren't you?"

"Am I wrong?" Robby pushes.

Slowly, Jack shakes his head, "No, you're not wrong."

The corners of Robby's mouth curl up into a smile.

"You're wrong about me being old, though, I'm still in the prime of my-"

"What if we just didn't talk for a minute?" Robby murmurs as he reaches out with his free hand, slides his fingers through the short hairs on the back of Jack's neck and pulls him in until their lips meet.

Jack surrenders willingly, his lips soft but skilled against Robby's. Jack's hand settles gently on Robby's waist, his fingers dipping under his t-shirt to press into skin while his other hand cups Robby's jaw, holding him in place like he doesn't ever want to let go. The kiss is delicate, far too brief, but Robby commits every touch to memory and lets every sensation fill his wounded chest.

"I love you enough to tell you you're an asshole for not coming to see me for the last week," he says when they separate.

Jack lets out an amused huff, "Well, I love you enough to tell you, if you ever nearly die on me again and force me to stick my hand in your chest to save your life, I'm going to kill you."

Robby laughs, "Fair."

"Alright," Dana packs the last of Robby's items into his bag and zips it up, "That's everything, you're just waiting on your discharge paperwork, right?"

Robby nods, "Knowing this place, I'll be waiting all day!" He complains, letting his voice carry outside the room to the nurses' station outside.

"Be patient, Doctor Robinavitch!" One of the nurses calls back.

Robby huffs and mutters under his breath.

"You sorted out some home-health care, right? You won't be up to doing much for a week or two, and that sling's gotta stay on for a few weeks too," she looks at him pointedly.

"Don't worry, I've made plans."

"Actual plans or I'm just gonna DoorDash every day plans?"

"Actual solid plans," Robby confirms, amused.

Her eyebrow arches, "Well, now I want to meet whoever's willing to put up with your stubborn ass."

"I'm not that bad."

"Honey, I've seen you stomp around the ED when you have a papercut, and I know you loathe having to rely on others for help. I hope to God you're paying them a healthy sum to handle your godawful moods."

"Oh, don't worry, there'll be payment, though, I might have to wait a while to collect," A new voice says.

Dana turns to find Jack leaning casually against the open door, hands in his pockets, looking like he finally had a good night's sleep. She grins.

"Well, there he is, fucking finally, glad to see you've finally gotten over yourself."

Jack's eyes meet his, and Robby can't help the warm feeling it triggers, or the blush in his cheeks.

Dana clocks it immediately.

She points her finger at the two of them, "Does this mean what I think it means?"

"Turns out climbing two flights of stairs a week after having been shot in the chest is romantic," Robby responds.

"Idiotic more like," Jack shakes his head.

"Worked, didn't it?"

"Oh yeah, the breathlessness was a real turn on."

"Alright, loverboys, save it for the bedroom," Dana quickly interrupts.

"You'll keep it on the DL, right? This is new, we don't want the PTMC rumour mill getting involved just yet," Robby requests.

She mimes sealing her lips shut, "I won't say a word."

Nurse Jennifer walks in then, waving his golden ticket home. "Your discharge papers, Doctor Robinavitch."

"Fucking finally," he exhales.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Robby asks as they step across the threshold of Jack's place. They've already stopped by Robby's, picked up some more clothes and toiletries, as well as some books and his laptop. Jack slips out of his jacket and then bends down to help Robby with his shoes automatically.

"It makes sense," Jack shrugs. "It's all on one level, I have the grab bars and the seat in the shower, I'm closer to the hospital too."

It hadn't taken much to convince Robby that staying at Jack's was a good idea. Now Jack is wondering if the extra painkillers he was given after his trip to the roof had played a part in how easily he'd accepted.

"Yeah, but-"

"Plus, while I have earned myself a few days off and can keep an eye on you to make sure you actually rest, when I'm back at work, I don't like the idea of you being all on your own. Which is why I spoke to my neighbour Judy, she's a retired nurse, said she's very happy to pop in every few hours, make sure you haven't collapsed or over-exerted yourself."

"I've met Judy; she's scarier than Dana on Nicorette."

Jack holds back a smile, trying for stern instead, "So I know you'll do as you're told."

He pushes Robby through the house, leading him to the master bedroom. Inside, he puts the bag down on the bed and starts unpacking, putting Robby's glasses, medications and books on the empty nightstand.

"I can sleep in the spare room if you want." Robby looks awkward.

Jack frowns, "I'm putting you where I want."

"It's just, it's been less than twenty-four hours, me sleeping in your bed is a big step."

Jack stops unpacking and looks up at Robby with a confused expression, "We're just going to be sleeping, right? Unless you have superhealing powers I don't know about?"

Robby rolls his eyes, "Of course."

"Well, then I want you where I can see you…and check your pulse in the middle of the night."

"You really know how to bring the romance."

"Hey, if you're really good, I'll check your femoral pulse."

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Jack smiles at Robby's comment as he puts away the last of Robby's items. It feels nice to have someone else's belongings sitting beside his. It's been a long time since that's been the case, and only recently has he been okay with the idea of the items belonging to someone other than Sarah. She would want him to move on. She would be happy he'd chosen Robby, too.

"Alright, I realise you're probably exhausted, but how about a bath? Wash that hospital smell off you."

"A bath sounds good, actually."

Jack heads into the ensuite, making a beeline for the bath. He doesn't use it often, preferring quick showers, but after a long shift, lying in the bath does wonders for his aching body and is sometimes the only thing that helps with phantom limb pain. There's a reason why he spent a good chunk of money on a large bath and walk-in shower.

He gets the taps running and pours in some bubble bath he'd received in last year's Secret Santa exchange. As the tub fills up and bubbles start growing across the top, he lowers the lights to something a little more calming and gets out a towel.

When he's satisfied the bath is filled enough, he goes back out to the bedroom to collect Robby.

Back in the bathroom, he eyes up Robby's sling, "You need any help?" He asks, trying to hide his sudden nerves.

"Uh, yeah, that would be good."

Slowly, so he doesn't jostle Robby's broken collarbone, Jack unclips the sling and slips it off and away. Next, he helps Robby with his t-shirt, helping him pull out his good arm first so it's easier to pull the t-shirt over his bad arm.

Without his shirt, Jack gets a good look at his stitches across his chest as well as the ones from his chest tube. He knows there is more on his back too. It still hurts to think how close Robby came to losing his life, how close Jack came to losing him.

He swallows hard and forces himself to look away.

"I might need help with the pants too," Robby admits reluctantly.

"Really didn't picture this situation when I imagined undressing you for the first time."

"You imagined undressing me?"

Jack's hands stop at the tie on Robby's sweats, and he looks up at Robby, doing his best to ignore how close they're standing, "You going to deny you haven't done the same?"

Robby's cheeks turn a delightful pinkish colour, "I plead the fifth."

Jack removes Robby's sweats and boxers, sliding them down his legs and lifting his feet one at a time to get them off. It would be so easy to take his fill of Robby's naked body, but now's not the time. Sex won't be on the table for a while yet. Even still, the intimacy of the moment, undressing Robby, helping him into the warm water, feels just as electrifying as sex.

"Let me know when you want to get out," Jack tells him, already moving towards the door.

Robby frowns at him, "Wait, where are you going?"

"Letting you bathe?"

"I thought…this bath is big enough for two, isn't it?"

"Are you sure?"

"You'll be careful with me, right?"

"Always," Jack responds, his voice thick with promise.

"Get in, please?"

Jack feels Robby's eyes on him as he slips out of his t-shirt and unbuckles his belt. As soon as his cargos and boxers are down around his ankles, he sits on the edge of the bath and removes his prosthetic.

Inside the tub, Robby slides forward, leaving Jack enough room to lower himself into the water behind and settle his legs on either side of Robby. Robby slowly rests back against Jack, making sure the stitches on his back aren't knocked.

Unable to stop himself, Jack leans forward to press a kiss against Robby's temple. "Feeling better?"

Robby lets out a moan that Jack feels throughout his whole body. He forces himself to think of unsexy things for a moment until the rush of desire fades.

They lie there for a while, letting the steam flush their faces, and the warmth of the water sink into their bones.

"What are you thinking about?" Jack asks, finally, breaking the silence.

"Leah."

Jack sighs. He knew this would be a sore point for Robby. "I'm sorry she couldn't be saved; she should have been safe. You should have been safe."

"Gloria told me he'd killed a paramedic, stolen his uniform, managed to slip in during the commotion." Robby sighs. "He'd already hurt a lot of people but wanted to make sure he left this earth with one final reminder of the pain he could inflict."

"Shhh," Jack hushes him, pressing another kiss to Robby's damp skin. "It's over."

There's no point in telling Robby there's nothing he could have done differently. His mind is a constant mindfield of what-ifs that will take more than Jack's words to sweep away.

Robby doesn't respond, and Jack makes a mental note to try to get Robby to speak to someone about the shooting. He doesn't want to almost lose him to a gun, only to lose him to the roof of the hospital.

"I haven't heard from Jake," Robby admits. "I sent him a message from my hospital bed; he hasn't even looked at it."

His heart breaks for Robby. He'd tried to save Leah's life. It wasn't his fault that the bullet had gone straight through him and into her.

"He will, just give him time."

Jack hears Robby sniff and wishes he could see his face. He wants to look Robby in the eyes and reassure him until he knows his words have sunk in. Instead, he runs his fingers through Robby's damp hair, scratching gently at his scalp to soothe him. He'll keep Robby's fears at bay for as long as he needs.

As Robby's breathing settles down, Jack tries to stop and take some comfort, even momentarily. The warmth of the water, the touches of naked skin against skin, the weight of Robby against him, his soft breaths, reminding Jack that he's alive. For a moment, it feels like there's nothing but the bathroom in the entire universe. Everything else can wait. This is everything he wanted that he never thought he'd get.

But it can't last forever, and he starts thinking about Robby's slow road to recovery. He's thinking about how he's going to wash Robby's hair and get him dressed again. He's thinking about getting in healthy food, making sure he knows Robby's med schedule and that his PT appointments are added to his calendar.

As always, Robby can sense when his mind is running away with him. He feels a hand slide across his knee, squeezing to ground him.

"You okay?" Robby asks.

Jack hums, "I will be…" He answers honestly. "We will be," he adds, covering Robby's hand with his own. "You ready to get out?" He asks a moment later.

Robby's head drops back against him. He lets out a soft exhale. 

"Not just yet."