Work Text:
Robby is walking out of central nine when his phone vibrates, without looking he takes it out of his pocket and unlocks it, his other hand reaching for his glasses, he reads the text while walking towards the hub;
Den:
[04/13/2028 18:21]: omw!
[04/13/2028 18:21]: bus is packed but im rushing!
Robby allows himself a small smirk, he looks at the clock at the top of the screen and does the mental math, Dennis should arrive at around ten to seven.
He supposes he can help around two patients more and finish charting in the meantime.
Before he does, he types a reply;
Me:
[04/13/2028 18:23]: be careful
Robby tries to type ‘love u’ but gets pulled towards an incoming trauma, so he uses those two seconds to lock the phone and shove it back inside his pocket.
“You’re here early…” Robby grins at Jack as he puts on gloves and helps the EMTs transfer the patient to the gurney.
“I was bored.” Jack snickers, deadpan. Robby snorts and focuses on the patient in their table, narrows his eyes at the monitor as he internalizes the levels, listens and nods at the residents and nurses as they call out what they’re working on and guides Javadi as they finish stabilizing and handing over to surgery.
“Ellis called you?” Robby asks in Jack’s general direction as they walk together out of the bay, pulling off their gloves, Jack hums in affirmation.
“Told me she got Whitaker to cover for her,” Jack mumbles, as they reach the hub, looking up at the board, “how she managed that?” he teases.
Robby huffs a laugh, “she bribed me to ask him,” Jack cocks an eyebrow at him, Robby tightens his lips and lifts his fingers in a twist motion of his wrist, locked inside, Jack rolls his eyes.
“Must be good if you sacrifice a night without your boy.” Jack teases, Robby shrugs.
“Good enough.” he says, Jack grunts a laugh.
“Right, what are we dealing with here?”
The handover takes ten more minutes and the dayshift staff trickles out slowly, Robby looks at his watch and then pulls out his phone, Dennis is not one for tardiness without a good reason, the everlasting presence of his farm upbringing forbidding him for being late, so he texts him;
Me:
[04/13/2028 18:57]: den??
[04/13/2028 18:58]: ?? ure close??
He leans on the counter of the hub as he looks at the phonescreen, at the delivered under the blue bubble, but no reply, which is as odd as a third eye, because Dennis always replies to his texts, always as soon as he can, always on the first two or three minutes when he has the time, Robby knows Dennis might not pick up his calls but never ignores his texts, and it makes Robby anxious.
The red phone in front of him rings, Robby’s breath hitches, he presses the call button next to Dennis’ name and puts the phone in his ear, it rings.
It rings.
It rings.
“Hey, this is Dennis, I’m not around, leave a message.” Robby hangs up, the text thread appears back on his screen.
Me:
[04/13/2028 19:03]: pick up the phone
Dana looks at him with the red receiver on her own ear, her expression instantly changes to a severe one, she’s mumbling something to the phone and Robby’s curious, but his finger is already dialing Dennis again.
He’s not like this. He’s never late.
It rings.
And rings.
And rings.
“Hey, this is Dennis, I’m not around, leave a message.” Robby huffs in frustration.
“Cap?” Dana’s standing in front of him, he shakes his head absentmindedly as he looks down into the phone, big thumbs struggling to tap the words
Me:
[04/13/2028 19:07]: den i keep getting sent to voice mail
“Robby,” Dana puts her hand on his bicep, he doesn’t look at her, “there’s a—”
“Tell Abbot,” Robby cuts her off, his eyes glued to the screen, his hands start to tremble, “I’m off shift.”
He types;
Me:
[04/13/2028 19:09]: den
[04/13/2028 19:09]: ure late!
[04/13/2028 19:09]: den???
He feels another presence before he can register it, Jack reaches to him and grips his shoulder, “brother…”
“I’m calling Dennis,” Robby looks at him for a fraction of a second and turns back to look at his phone because maybe in those fourteen milliseconds Dennis typed a reply, “he’s supposed to be here by now.”
“That’s fine but we need to call people back,” Jack tells him in a mumble, right in his ear, only for him to listen, Robby frowns in confusion and looks at him, “there’s been a mvc right at the edge of the McCullough bridge over on Chestnut.”
Robby’s mind opens up a map and he knows that it’s practically around the corner from PTMC.
“How many vehicles?” Robby asks, looking at Dana and then back to Jack as he grips his phone in his hand, Dana sighs.
“They’re not sure,” Jack tells him, “a bus fell down the overpass onto the highway, so we expect high influx,” Robby frowns again, “we’re the closest hospital.”
“A bus?” Robby grunts out, turning to his phone, he can’t help himself;
Me:
[04/13/2028 19:14]: den which bus are you on?
“Trauma command said the driver lost control, went through the chainlink fence and over the concrete guardrail, ended wheels up on the highway under,” Dana mumbled, her own phone already on her hand and her glasses perched up on her nose, “I sent a text to our thread, told them to come back.”
Robby nods, still looking down at his phone, he feels Jack looking over his shoulder, then he feels him stifle next to him.
“Call him.”
Robby taps the call button, puts it on speaker and they hold their breaths.
It rings.
And rings.
And rings.
“Hey, this is Dennis, I’m no—” Robby hangs up and groans, typing as Jack mumbles something to Dana;
Me:
[04/13/2028 19:17]: cmon baby pick up the fucking phone
“Robby,” Dana wraps a hand around his wrist, he doesn’t look at her, “why don’t you let me get a hold of him?” she hums, Robby’s breath is stuck in his throat, “the first ambulances are about to arrive, we need to initiate protocol.”
Robby doesn’t want to do that.
Robby wants to know where the fuck Dennis is.
Robby wants to stop feeling like his chest is being constricted and crushed, and wants to look at the fucking door to see him walk in, flushed and rushed and apologetic as he frantically tries to explain him why he’s late.
“Mike,” Jack grips his shoulder, it fucking hurts, but the fog in his head subsides just enough for him to listen at the wailing of the sirens as they approach his ED, “you with me?”
Robby sniffs, blinks the stinging feeling out of his eyes and nods, hands his phone over to Dana and looks at Jack.
“Where do you want me?” Robby asks, voice tight, hands trembling, he can see Jack mask a frown as he looks around, “your shift now.”
“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Jack mumbles, walking towards the small huddle of night shift staff that has gathered around them, “alright people,” Jack raises his voice just enough, Robby hangs back, his eyes roaming around the faces that blur in front of him, he tries to focus, removes his glasses, “we’re dealing with a major mvc, not sure how many patients we’re getting since minor injuries are being sent to Presby as well,” Jack explains, Robby tries his best to box breathe, “prepare for head concussions, fractures, crush injuries along with internal bleeding,” Robby buries his hands on his hair and tugs, “expect penetrating traumas, and patients with ruptured organs,” Jack clears his throat, “charge nurses are coordinating with blood banks, and supplies are being sent our way.” he finishes, looking at Robby, who stares at him for a second to long before his brain catches up, right, protocol.
The staff is staring at him, and he realizes he’s still the chief attending, and they’re expecting orders, and they don’t know his fiance is not picking up the phone, and they don’t imagine the visuals that are plaguing his head right now, and they are waiting for him to stop catastrophizing so he can tell them what to do.
“This is basically a mass casualty incident,” Robby says, his voice trembling, he doesn’t even try to disguise it, he’s fucking scared, “you’re all well trained for this, we all are…” he breathes in, looks at the faces of the people around him, almost the entire day shift is already back, exhausted faces looking at him, for what, he doesn’t want to know, if it’s leadership they want, he can’t give that to them right now, because even if he’s here, standing in front of them, his mind is going a thousand miles per hour because Dennis is not here. And he wants Dennis here.
“Prepare trauma rooms,” Jack takes over, Robby’s lungs catch on air, “three gurneys in each one, we’re dividing the floor in four zones, doctor King and doctor Santos are doing triage,” Jack keeps yelling, people are walking around Robby, he barely retains focus in what’s going on, “no time to do x-rays, labs or scans, rely on sonograms, share with each other, communicate,” Jack doesn’t stop, Robby knows all this, fuck he does know all this, but his mind can’t stop from picturing a bus with Dennis inside, going over the guardrail, over and over he keeps picturing the bus filled with people, all screaming while metal bends and breaks, trampling and crushing each other as they land on hard pavement, he can’t stop, “Robby!”
Jack claps his back twice, Robby comes back to earth, the people around him rushing as they prepare the ED for what’s coming, Robby’s hands are trembling.
“He’s on a bus.” are the only words he can muster, looking at his best friend, who grips the back of his neck, trying and failing to soothe him.
“Incoming!” the rushed voice comes from the ambulance bay and Jack turns around, clapping twice.
“Look alive, people!” he all but yells, grabbing a disposable gown, “let’s go save lives!”
Before he can see or feel anything, Dennis hears.
His phone is ringing, somewhere near him.
Dennis tries, he really tries to open his eyes and look for the damn thing, but something immobilizes him.
Then he feels.
He can’t breathe.
Well, he can, he’s doing it, but hardly, something’s crushing his chest, something heavy lies on him and it’s keeping his lungs from inflating all the way.
He feels weird, he feels wet, his head is pounding, his chest is constricted, and one of his legs might be both on fire and underwater.
Then he sees.
Dennis opens his eyes because his phone keeps ringing, for a moment he sees dark, then he focuses.
There’s someone on top of him.
And he can’t move to get them off.
There’s a silence that feels eerie, it’s not a comfortable silence, it’s not the silence he likes, but it lasts just for a second, before everything explodes.
It’s like a badly tuned orchestra, if he knew anything about music, it begins suddenly and scares him, it’s a cacophony of screams, whimpers, grunts and groans, there’s movement, someone asking what happened, and Dennis really wants to know that too.
And his phone keeps fucking ringing.
Something is digging on the side of his back, something not sharp enough to pierce through his skin, but it bothers him a great deal, he needs to move, it’s annoying, it hurts, but he can’t.
Dennis pushes up, groans, a flash of pain runs through his arms, he relents.
“Shit,” he gasps, his lungs are on fire, and the thing that’s digging on his side keeps bothering him, he really needs to move, so he tries to plan his feet on the ground, and pushes up again, “fuck!” a flash of lighting, hot searing pain, rushes through his spine, and it makes him dizzy and nauseous instantly.
There’s movement around him, he can hear the twinkle of glass, shattered glass, the shuffling of bodies, recognizes the pained groans and the sobs of hurt, the creak and squeak of metal bending and breaking. Dennis frowns.
What the fuck happened?
Dennis recalls, he tries to put together his scrambled mind, he was just on his way to work, Robby called him to ask him if he could come to PTCM to cover for Ellis on the night shift and Dennis said yes, he took the bus and it was almost to max capacity, he barely got to find a seat near the back, and he was blasting Stevie Wonder on his airpods.
A groan escapes him as he stretches his neck to look around, he can hear sirens, several, multiple, joining the disharmony around him; he sees the bus’ windows, but they’re right above him, which is weird, and he can see a man a few feet away from him, bleeding from his hairline, unconscious.
The flash of the bus going off lane crosses through the front of his mind.
Going off lane, swerving violently, he knows he hit his head with the window, then screaming invaded his ears even when the volume of his music was high, someone gripped his arm, and he braced himself with the edge of the seat in front of him, then a loud bang.
The loudest bang.
Something heavy landing on him, the air getting knocked out of his lungs, molten lava being poured over his leg, his phone ringing.
Honking, wheels screeching over pavement, crashing, everything around him thrashing once, twice, then silence, and darkness.
“Help!” someone screams on his right, the noise of the sirens is getting closer, and people around him start moving, someone grabs his hand, and he turns.
“You okay?” the man asks, Dennis tries to nod, but his neck is hurting and he knows he’s not supposed to move if his neck hurts.
“Yeah, I—I think so,” Dennis grips the hold the man has in his hand and the man nods, Dennis notices he’s bleeding from somewhere under his shirt, “you?”
The man looks down and shrugs, “I can move,” he says, then shuffles closer to him, “there’s someone on top of you.”
“I figured as much,” Dennis groans, “tried to move them but I can’t.”
“Let me try,” the man crouches next to him and Dennis can only feel the pressure, “you push and I pull, ‘kay?” Dennis hums, he puts his hands over the body that’s crushing him, “one, two, three!” Dennis pushes, lets out a pained groan, his arms feel heavy and disjointed for a second, and the man grunts next to him but the body is away from his chest and Dennis grabs a big mouthful of air, it hurts, it burns inside, but it’s good, and it makes him less dizzy.
“Thank you.” Dennis musters, the man claps him softly on the shoulder, then Dennis notices he looks him up and down.
“Awe, man.” the man is staring at his lower part, Dennis frowns.
“What?” Dennis breathes out, he rests his elbows on his sides and pushes himself up to look at his lap, then his legs and “fuck!”
“The cops are here!” the man tries to push him down again, Dennis shakes his head, “I’m sure the help is coming!”
“Get an EMT,” Dennis feels his throat dry up, he can’t stop staring at his legs, “go get them,” he croaks out, his brain is starting to register the pain, “tell them,” Dennis breathes in, looking at the man as his sight blurs at the imminence flooding of tears, “right leg impalement.”
“What?” the man asks, the sound of the ambulances it’s so close, Dennis can almost smell the nitrile gloves.
“Right leg impalement!” Dennis repeats, frantic, “active bleeding, possibly arterial, go!” he cries out, “please!” the man nods, as if snapping back into himself, “give me your belt!”
Dennis stretches his hand, the man takes it off with trembling hands and hands it to him, then rushes as fast as he can to scream for the EMTs through a broken window. Dennis can’t sit up right, so he shuffles down carefully, trying his best to not move his right leg, his jeans are dampened with blood, the metallic smell flooding his nostrils and making him gag, smells so different from the blood that stains his hands at the hospital, here it’s heavier, the stench glues itself to his lungs.
Dennis slides himself enough so he can sit up, his back yells at him as he does, but he can move his upper half just enough to keep himself seated, he looks at his right leg.
One of the grab bars must’ve broken, and now it’s ledged in his right calf, he sniffs, calculating the angle, he leans to see if the metallic bar is detached from the main structure.
It isn’t.
“Fuck!” he screams, sliding the belt under his thigh and fastening it as tight as he can, he can’t move.
Dennis looks around as he grips his thigh, there’s several unconscious people around him, a woman a few rows over is whimpering, asking for help, he can hear a child crying, and he can’t fucking move.
There’s people hurt all around him and he has the knowledge to help them and he can’t fucking move.
This is a nightmare.
His worst fucking nightmare.
His phone rings.
“Shit,” Dennis sighs out, looking around as much as his body allows him, he sees the damn thing to his left, half of it under the arm of someone, lying on the pavement, the cracked screen lighting up, the song is one he has heard hundreds if not thousands of times, Michael is calling him, and he can’t reach the fucking phone. “shit!”
The screen turns off, then it rings again.
He doesn’t try to stretch himself because he knows he won’t reach it anyway, and he gathers his surroundings again, the amount of people inside the bus has downed considerably, and he thinks maybe some of the passengers got out of the bus by their own means, but there’s still people around; the woman that lied on top of him is to his left, too, and he reaches to grab her arm, looking for a pulse.
It’s thready, he tries to do a sternum rub but he can’t move closer, his right leg moves half an inch and he hisses, it hurts so fucking much he’s about to scream.
The loud shatter of breaking glass startles him, someone screams, he looks and sees the bus windshield being broken by a fireman, people start groaning louder, Dennis trembles.
Another fireman climbs onto the bus, then two EMTs follow him, handling a stretcher.
The fireman looks around and places his eyes on Dennis, “over here!” and he dodges several people to reach Dennis, “we’re getting you out of here.”
Dennis frowns, “wait…” he lets out, still holding the woman’s wrist on his hand, “you gotta get her out first.” he points at here, the fireman just stares at him.
The EMTs approach him, “doctor Whitaker?”
Of course, they know him, and Dennis knows them, and they stare at each other for a couple of seconds before they are all over him, Dennis raises his hands, palms wide, “wait!”
“We gotta get you to the hospital.”
“Hold on a second!” Dennis raises his voice, he hates raising his voice, the two EMTs look at him, Dennis breathes in, wipes his face with both hands, cleaning the tears away, he thinks, he forces himself to think, “how many people were involved?” he asks the fireman, who stutters.
“Between the bus and the few cars that collided with it? about a hundred, hundred and five.” he says, looking at the EMTs, Dennis nods, turns to them, his hands gripping his thigh.
“How many were sent to PTMC?” he asks, sniffing.
“Minor injuries and walk-ins were directed to Presby, major traumas to PTMC.” one of them mumbles.
“Alright,” Dennis breathes in deeply, “they must’ve activated MCI protocol, then,” he mumbles, more to himself than to the three men looking at him, “they’re triaging by color, assessing based on response and…” he lets out a trembling sigh, “I’m a yellow at most, I’m barely concussed,” Dennis looks at them, “you gotta help this woman.”
“Doctor Whi—”
“No,” Dennis shakes his head, “her pulse is thready, her breathing is gurgly, listen to her!” one of them reaches for the stethoscope around his neck, and confirms, “probable pneumothorax,” Dennis points at her, “lift her shirt, is there any bruising?” he does, and nods at Dennis.
“Right upper quadrant.” he says, the fireman next to him is already looking at the grab bar in his leg.
“That’s a red,” Dennis tells them, “write it on her forehead, rush her to PTMC,” he all but commands, the EMTs stare at him as if he grew a new head, “she’s dying! go!”
“What about you?”
“I’m fine,” he says, the EMT looks at his leg, “that’s low priority right now, give me a tourniquet and leave.”
They do, and help him remove the belt from around his thigh to put a medical grade tourniquet instead, then rush to move the woman onto the stretcher and between the both of them secure her and lift her away.
“You’re a doctor…” the fireman asks him, Dennis nods.
“I work at PTMC, was on my way there,” Dennis looks down at his leg, tries to wiggle his toes and grunts, then looks at the man in front of him “how many ambulances are outside?”
“About fifteen,” he says as he looks at the way the bar is joined at the bus ceiling, “some of them on their second round, we’re gonna have to cut this.”
“Is not safe with all these people around, right?” Dennis asks, looking around him, the fireman just hums a negative, “then go get more techs,” Dennis tells him, “I’ll help triage from here, it’ll save some time.”
The fireman just nods, walking away from him.
Dennis ignores the pain in his arms and his chest and his back and most importantly, tries to ignore the absolutely scorching pain he’s feeling in his leg, he reaches down to try to rip the fabric of his jeans open, and sees the bleeding coming to a near stop. It’s fine, he’s gonna be fine.
His phone rings again.
Robby.
Fuck, he needs Robby.
He’s alone, surrounded by wounded people who he can’t help, he’s hurt and immobilized and the only thing he wants right now it’s to feel Robby.
Dennis doesn’t try to muffle his whimpers, it hurts so fucking much, he can’t tune it down, he can’t make himself stop feeling it.
He doesn’t want to think about losing his leg, he knows it’s not that bad, but the idea ruminates through his mind, and it’s so frightening.
He needs Robby.
Dennis hates to feel like a little kid, like a scared, wide eyed farm kid who can’t do anything for himself, he hates to feel weak, and despises feeling small.
But he’s hurt.
And he’s scared.
And he knows Robby would fix it because Robby always fixes it.
Fuck.
His phone rings again, the noise rips a sob out of him.
Robby’s hands tremble as he tries to intubate a woman, he can’t get a grip on himself, his mind is reeling.
He sighs, stops himself, feels the stares of Langdon and Javadi glued to him and tries to tune them out, breathes in as deep as his constricted lungs can, and tries again.
Takes him ten seconds too long, but manages.
Robby feels a clap on his back, turns to find Jack behind him.
“Take a break, brother.” Jack says, making it sound like a suggestion, but Robby knows it’s almost an order.
“I can’t.” Robby shakes his head, already looking around for something else.
“Take a fucking break,” Jack hisses at him, Robby freezes, Jack never does that, “you’re trembling, Mike, you’re of no use like that.”
Robby looks away from him, “I can’t think.”
“I know,” Jack pulls him by the elbow towards the break room, Robby almost pulls himself back, “believe me, I know.”
And Robby throws his head back, he knows Jack knows, if there’s anyone who gets it is him, so Robby relents, and opens the breakroom door, “Jack?”
Jack looks at him, staring at him, his greenish eyes boring into his, he blinks, recognizes, “you’ll be the first one to know.”
“Thank you.”
“You got it.”
And Jack walks away.
Robby peels off his gloves and the ppe, drops himself on the couch with a groan, tries his best to drown the guilt of him sitting down here while the entire staff is outside working their asses off to save lives, but he can’t stop thinking about Dennis. He pulls out his phone and calls him.
It rings.
And rings.
And rings.
He hangs up before the voicemail message starts, throws the phone on the cushion next to him, leaning to rest his head on his hands, breathes in for four, holds for four, breathes out for four, and it doesn’t work, because he keeps imagining the worst case scenarios, he keeps imagining Dennis pressed between the bus and the pavement, he keeps imagining Dennis broken and mangled and turned into something he can’t fix.
And he knows what this is, he knows exactly his mind is preparing him for the worst, but he can’t be an optimist with this, he can’t hold himself away from this either; he’s seen too much, he knows how the worst looks, and he keeps inserting Dennis blue eyes and blond hair into the faces of previous patients he has worked on and lost.
How does something like this happen? Dennis was on his day off, only a few hours ago he texted Robby a fucking picture of a poodle he found on the street, and asked him if he ate, and fuck, Robby starts sobbing because why does this have to happen for him to realize how much he needs Dennis?
He knows, Robby knows he loves him, hell, he asked the kid to marry him. Out of love, out of companionship, out of wanting to wake up next to him every morning and kiss him as they cook breakfast. He didn’t realize he did it out of need.
And now he doesn’t know if Dennis is even alive and that is how he realizes he needs him?
No wonder why he lost faith in everything.
Robby can’t catch a fucking break.
Someone rushes through the door, “doctor Robby!”
He lifts his head, not even caring to swipe his tears away, “what, Mel?”
Mel’s expression falls, she walks into the breakroom and sits next to him, Robby scoffs, burying his head in his hands again.
“A few patients are coming in already triaged.” she softly tells him, Robby’s breath catches in the middle of his throat.
He looks at her, “what?” he creaks out, his voice thready, weak, she smiles at him, just a small curve of the corner of her mouth and nods.
“We got a couple of reds and some pinks,” she tells him, then she hesitantly puts a hand on his shoulder, “we’re the only hospital that uses pink instead of orange.”
Robby knows what she’s doing, she knows she’s leaving him the crumbs he needs to find the way home, and it fucking clicks.
Robby stands up, leaves Mel on the couch as he rushes towards the ambulance bay, tunnel vision already set, he sees a couple of EMTs rush in a gurney with a kid, “did you see him?”
“Doctor Whitaker?” one of them asks as they hand the kid to Mohan and Jack, Robby nods, “he’s there.”
“Is he okay?” Robby rushes to ask, following them back outside, Dana’s on his trail, calling his name, “is he?”
“Fine enough,” the woman tells him, “he’s helping.”
“Robby!” Danna calls him.
Exasperated, Robby turns, “what?”
She’s holding his phone, “Dennis!”
Robby all but launches himself towards her, snatching the phone out of her hand, “baby?”
“Hey,” god, Robby’s knees fucking buckle, he needs to lean on Dana so he doesn’t fall, “you okay?” he has the fucking nerve to ask, a noise comes out of Robby’s throat, something weird and animalistic.
“I should be the one asking you that?” Robby manages to get out, “where are you?”
“A little tied up,” Dennis chuckles, “but I’m okay.”
“Are you hurt?” Robby asks him, looking around at the coordinated chaos that is his ED.
“A bit,” Dennis says, Robby gasps, “nothing I can’t manage.”
“I’ll go get you.”
Robby doesn’t even wait for a reply, he hangs up and finds the EMTs that told him Dennis is at the site, Dana grabs his attention, he looks down at her.
“Bring him in one piece,” she tells him, her hand finding his forearm and rubbing soothingly, “we’ll hold down the fort.”
Robby nods, walks towards the ambulance where the EMTs are getting their gurney back inside, “I’ll ride with you.”
“Doctor Robby?” one of them asks, “why?”
“To get doctor Whitaker.” he tells them, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.
Robby sits down on the bench inside the rig, the doors close and they get going, the ride doesn’t take long, just long enough for Robby to calm his rabbiting pulse and grab some gloves from the box that rests inside a basket, when they get there and he jumps down, the wreck manages to freeze him on the spot.
The bus is on its side, the length of it across the three lanes of the highway, blocking east to west traffic, there are police cars around the perimeter, a firetruck a few yards away and several ambulances parked as the techs and paramedics mill around the bus, two cars collided with it and are already being towed away, one of them is completely destroyed, several work lamps are placed around and there’s glass everywhere, fiber glass scraps and metal all around the ground, he can see two rogue tires haphazardly thrown to the side.
As Robby walks closer to the bus he can smell the gas dripping onto the pavement, combining with the too familiar scent of blood, he doesn’t know if the reddish liquid that’s filtering around the metal is one or the other, but he doesn’t stand too close to find out.
Robby looks around for Dennis, his throat tightening at the lack of him outside the wreck, one of the EMTs motions for him, pointing inside the fucking bus.
He shows his PTMC id to one of the cops and the man just nods at him once, then he climbs inside.
A few people are being tended inside, they stare at him as he looks around, there’s only so much light that permeates from the outside so he needs to narrow his eyes as he walks inside.
The first thing that catches his attention is his laugh.
He’s here and he’s laughing.
Robby rushes to the back of the bus and finds Dennis sitting on the floor, back resting against a few piled up backpacks and bags, a fireman sitting next to him, Dennis looks up at him and gives him one of his Whitaker brand smiles, all teeth and eye twinkle, and Robby falls to his knees next to him.
“Careful,” Dennis whispers, already reaching for him, Robby cradles his face in his hands, both to make sure he’s not dreaming and that Dennis really is in front of him, and to do a quick neuro check, one of his pupils is slightly blown, so he’s probably concussed, “hey, you.”
“Never do that to me again.” Robby whispers, leaning to kiss him. Dennis huffs out a laugh, then pushes him back gently.
“Noted.” he smiles.
Then Dennis looks down, and Robby follows his gaze.
And he feels lightheaded.
“Fucking hell,” Robby sits back on his haunches, “Den…”
“I know,” Dennis mutters, “looks worse than it is.”
“Shut up,” Robby frowns, shuffling closer to his right leg, Dennis folds his left to make space for him, Robby doesn’t touch the grab bar but notices it’s already immobilized, the denim of Dennis’ jeans is not open enough for him to look further so he looks around, locks eyes with the fireman, “you’ve got scissors? a knife?”
The man nods and hands him a pocket knife, Robby notices Dennis bracing himself as he carefully cuts the fabric around the metal bar, Dennis hisses.
“They gave you something for the pain?” Robby asks him, noticing the tourniquet, Dennis hums in affirmation.
“Paracetamol,” he snorts, Robby frowns, “I might be concussed.”
Robby looks at the leg, there’s gauze around the entry wound and it already smells faintly of betadine, it’s probably as much as the EMTs could’ve done with the things they have on hand and the influx of patients they had to treat.
The fireman clears his throat, “we have to cut here.” he points at the bar, still connected to the main structure.
Robby frowns, this is why Dennis is still here, and this is why Dennis has been here for the past two hours with a fucking pole sticking out of his leg.
“Why haven’t you?” Robby bites out, as he carefully removes Dennis’ shoe.
“I asked them not to,” Dennis explains, wiggling his toes in a hiss, “wasn’t safe.”
Robby grunts, “is it safe now?” he looks up at Dennis, who’s looking at him almost sheepishly, then looks at the fireman next to him, “this needs debridement, he needs surgery.”
“Mike,” Dennis tries to grab his hand, Robby raises his eyebrows to the fireman, who nods and stands up, walking towards the front of the bus, “I’m fine.” Dennis whispers.
“Fine,” Robby shakes his head, “your tibia or your fibula or both might be broken, your muscle it’s most likely perforated,” Dennis rolls his eyes, Robby’s fingers find Dennis ankle, “at least you have post-tibial pulse, fuck, Den.”
“Mike…” Dennis sighs his name, Robby lets out the air out of his lungs and shuffles closer, “just fucking hold me while they cut this thing, please.”
Robby wants to say something else, he wants to scold him, maybe even start a fight, but Dennis looks so tired, his eyes are red and puffy from crying in pain, the bags under his eyes are darkening to a purple tint, his lips are dry and his skin is pale and Robby knows Dennis’ doesn’t like to ask for things like this so it isn’t like Robby can’t deny him, so he wraps his arms around him carefully and brings Dennis’ head to his chest, Robby rests his cheek on the crown of his head and allows himself to feel him.
“m’ so glad you’re here,” Dennis mutters, “I was so scared.”
“I’m here, baby,” Robby whispers against Dennis’ hair, “I thought I lost you.”
“‘m sorry.” Dennis mumbles against the fabric of his scrubs, Robby shakes his head.
“Literally an accident, baby,” Robby tells him, “no one’s fault.”
Dennis hums contentedly and Robby feels the sound inside Dennis’ chest and reverberating against his hands, “therapy’s working, I see.”
Robby chuckles lowly, “it is.” before he can add something, he sees two firemen approaching them with a circular saw, Dennis stiffens in his arms.
“That’s gonna hurt,” he all but whines into Robby’s chest, “shit.”
“We’re wrapping tape around the place of the cut,” one of them says, “to avoid sparks,” Robby just nods, “and try to make it fast.”
“Mike…” Dennis’ breaths become ragged as the firemen start poking and prodding around the grab bar, Robby looks down at Dennis, blue eyes wide and flooded.
“They know what they’re doing, baby,” Robby whispers against Dennis’ forehead, kissing him once, twice, “trust them.”
“Fuck,” Dennis breathes out, raggedly, “fuck, fuck.”
They turn on the saw and Dennis hides his face in Robby’s chest, Robby’s eyes fall closed almost by themselves as the noise of the saw cutting through metal inundates the place and Dennis grips the fabric of his scrubs impossibly tight, whimpering in pain.
When it’s done, silence reigns. Robby opens his eyes and sees the firemen retreating, one of them calling for the medics.
“Is it done?” Dennis asks, Robby hums, looking down at his fiance, he’s crying, “hurts.”
“I know, love,” Robby leans to kiss him on the forehead, “it’ll take us five minutes to reach the pitt, ‘kay?” he kisses him again, “then we’ll send you to surgery and you’re gonna be fine.”
“‘kay.” Dennis lets out, his voice airy, his grip loosening. Robby kisses him again before he feels Dennis’ body go slack.
“Den?” Robby leans back, Dennis eyes are closed, his head hangs to the side with the movement, “shit, shit,” Robby rubs his knuckles against Dennis’ sternum, his lids flicker, makes no sound, “Den, come back, baby,” he presses his fingers into Dennis’ carotid hard, and feels the pulse faint, “Dennis!”
The EMTs rush towards them, stretcher in hand, Robby doesn’t want to let go of Dennis, but he does anyway, helping them lie Dennis down.
“Got an ox pulse,” one of them sticks it to Dennis’ finger, “eighty five on oxygen, seventy five beats per minute.”
“Adrenaline crash.” Robby mutters.
“Okay, let’s move him.”
They do it painfully slow, trying their best to not bump the metal bar against anything, Robby realizes Dennis’ is the last one on the bus, and while half of him is angry that he even allowed himself to be left for last, the other half of him is proud that he lasted just enough to make sure everyone got out as safely as possible.
When they wheel him inside the rig, Robby dials Dana.
“How’s he?” she answers, the noise of the ED trickling into the call.
“Tell Garcia to get an OR ready for him,” Robby grips the hold he has on Dennis’ hand as the tech gets in an IV to pump him with fluids and antibiotics, “right leg impalement with a metal bar, I’ll send her the pictures so they’re prepared.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Dana curses out, “what else?”
“Minor concussion, he fainted,” Robby sighs, “wanna check for any spinal injuries and other fractures he missed because of the adrenaline.”
“You got it, cap,” she says, “ETA?”
“‘bout four minutes.”
“On it.”
Robby leans to rest his head on Dennis’ hand, “almost there, baby.”
The phone in the hub rings, Perlah picks it up as Robby stares at the board, manically coming up with some strategy to free up some beds.
“Doctor Robby?” Perlah calls, Robby looks at her, she’s holding the phone receiver against her chest, “surgical’s calling,” she tells him with an apologetic smile, “Dennis’ getting uncooperative.”
“What the fuck?” Robby frowns, deeply, Perlah shrugs, confused, “tell them I’m on my way.”
Robby surges towards the elevator, pressing the up button insistently until it opens, then towards the fourth floor, already on fight or flight mode, because what the fuck does ‘uncooperative’ means in the context of Dennis Whitaker, the closest thing there is to a human teddy bear.
When he reaches Dennis’ room in the recuperation hallway, he hears him raising his voice, Dennis never raises his voice.
“Where are the rest of my things?” he asks, altered, Robby opens the door to the scene of Dennis almost launching himself out of the bed towards a nurse, his monitor beeping the alert of high blood pressure, the nurse in one corner with her hands raised in defense, Dennis duffel on the floor, its contents sprawled around the bed and the floor, and Dennis bawling his eyes out.
When the nurse sees him she sighs in relief, Robby walks in and puts himself between Dennis and the nurse, who rounds him and rushes out, Dennis doesn’t look at him.
“What the fuck is happening here?” Robby asks, voice low, placating, looking around the mess of clothes and toiletries, Dennis is sitting on the bed, left leg folded up against his chest, the right leg stiff and bandaged and covered with the sheet.
“I lost it,” he whispers, thick tears sliding down his cheeks, he’s flushed all over, “‘m sorry I lost it.”
“What did you lose?” Robby walks towards him, raising a hand to place it on the back of Dennis’ neck. Dennis looks at him, his face contorted in pain, his baby blues bloodshot with the tears, Robby feels the empathetic pang of pain inside his chest, he cradles Dennis’ face, “what is it, baby?”
“I lost the ring,” he sobs out, hiding his face in his knee, his chest convulsing with the force of his cries, “I lo—lost the ring.”
Robby looks at him for a moment, frozen in place, he pictures in his mind the golden band he placed in Dennis’ ring finger of his left hand six months ago, he pictures the absolutely blinding smile Dennis gifted him when he did, the soul crushing hug he gave him.
Dennis lower lip trembles, “must’ve lo—lost it in the cra—ash.” he cries out.
Robby wraps his arms around him, Dennis falls onto his chest and lets out a long whine.
“I’ll buy you a new one.” Robby whispers as he carefully pulls Dennis closer, sits on the bed and sits him on his lap, Dennis shakes his head.
“No!” he cries, “that was yo—your grandpa’s,” he gasps, Robby swipes a hand up and down his spine over the scratchy hospital gown, “‘m so—sorry.”
“Baby,” Robby kisses his head, “I don’t mind.”
“I do!” Dennis keeps sobbing in his chest, “I do…”
“Den…” Robby leans back, his own tears falling down, “I don’t care about the ring,” Dennis looks up at him, his eyes shining with tears, his nose wet and runny, his lips reddened and glossy with spit, Robby presses a peck on his mouth, “I promise I don’t care,” he reassures him Dennis squeezes his eyes, two more fat tears fall down, Robby wipes them away with the heel of his hand, “all I care is that you’re here,” he whispers, his hand brushing back Dennis’ curls, “all I care about is that you’re safe.”
“But—”
“Baby…” Robby shakes Dennis in his arms gently, Dennis looks back at him, “I promise I don’t mind,” Dennis hides his face on Robby’s chest, “for a moment, a good moment back there,” Robby hugs him closer, “I thought you were gone, Den,” Dennis sniffs, one of his hands wrapping around Robby’s waist, “and everything I wanted, everything I needed, was to see you,” Robby places a kiss on Dennis’ temple, “I need you, Den, just you,” he whispers directly into his ear, “everything else I don’t give a fuck about.”
Dennis snorts, the sound makes Robby smile, he shifts in the embrace and looks at him, “would you help me look for it anyway?” he asks, Robby sighs, Dennis’ eyes are still filled with unshed tears, his voice is rough and soft and he almost never asks for anything, who is Robby to deny him?
“I will, baby,” he leans to kiss him, “don’t you worry.”