Chapter Text
You’ve been working at Pitt for about 10 months. When you first mentioned the unofficial name of your new place of work to your friends they made a face and asked if it was really called that. To their defense, they don’t work in health care.
Nursing has been your job for a couple of years now and you feel both new and experienced at it. It’s one of those jobs in which you grow with the years, always learning new things and a vast amount of knowledge yet to be gained. You love that aspect of it.
What you also love about nursing is being able to help people in so many ways. You help patients by taking care of them, making sure they are as comfortable as possible and getting the treatment they need. You help doctors by assisting them so they can do their job to the best of their ability. You help your fellow nurses by working together, or taking over their duties when necessary. The more experienced nurses teach you new tricks and you teach the newer nurses in turn. Sometimes the young ones teach you something instead, sometimes the doctors learn from you. It warms your heart, chasing away the bitter chill that sometimes creeps in after a particularly rought day.
Your first day of work in Pittsburgh those 10 months ago was like a baptism. You had been interviewed the week before, and were hoping for the call that you had been hired. What you didn't expect was a call asking you to come in immediately, sign the paperwork and please please please get on the floor. The Pittfest shooting had put unimaginable pressure on a department already understaffed and overtaxed, they could use all the extra hands.
Despite the insane first workday you continue to enjoy the emergency department at PTMC. Your colleagues are pretty great, with good hearts and valuing teamwork over egos for the most part. You lean on Dana for guidance and joke and laugh with Princess and Perlah.
You’re happy to learn the nurses and doctors socialise post-shift together and get to know some of the doctors. You quickly develop a soft spot for Dennis Whitaker, the doe-eyed small-town boy (man, you remind yourself) who also had his first day on that fateful day. He has grown so much since then, it makes your hearth swell with pride.
Then there’s Dr Michael Robinavitch, or Dr Robby as everyone calls him. Talking about soft spots - you have one the size of a crater for his kind eyes and gentle words. Not to say he is never firm or even rude, you jokingly call those his “Robinabitch” moments with the other nurses. He’s a good doctor and teacher however, guiding his staff to make the right decisions and become better doctors.
He teaches them respect for you nurses too, and you appreciate that. You’ve met too many doctors with their head in their arses about who actually does most of the legwork. Yeah, doctors have the schooling and knowledge and all that, but it’s the nurses that actually make all the medical care happen. It’s a symbiosis of sorts, a dance you have to dance together, not a fistfight.
It does really feel like dancing sometimes, you think to yourself when you once again step in to assist Dr Robby with the newest patient. You hook up medical equipment, keep the doctors informed of vitals and help roll the patient over when their back needs to be examined. If your heart beats a little faster when Robby brushes up against you when supervising the intern’s work, that’s your business. You keep a lid on it, your focus is on the patient and their care, but you store it away for later. When you lay in bed that night you fantasize about how his body feels against yours, the smell of his skin, the warmth of his breath. You almost feel the tickle of his beard.
In the quiet moments during the day, you can’t help but notice the sadness in his eyes. When, for a moment, all is stable in the emergency department you catch him staring into the distance. You’ve heard whispers about how he allegedly broke down in the peds-makeshift-morgue during the Pittfest crisis. Dana once told you about how Dr Robby’s mentor, Dr Adamson, died of covid in that room. You remember feeling the tears threaten to fall when you learned the Pittfest shooting coincided with the anniversary of Adamson's death. Like some sick joke the universe played on poor Dr Robby.
So you support him, you quietly try to make his job easier and give him your sweetest smiles whenever your eyes catch each other. When you hear of his planned sabbatical you are relieved, feeling glad he is finally taking some time off for himself.
That feeling morphs into a stone that slowly but certainly drops to your stomach when you walk into work on the fourth of July, just when Dr Robby arrives on his motorbike. Without helmet. Without any protective gear, save for a pair of gloves. What the actual fuck? You stare at him driving past you and he doesn’t even glance your way.
There is no chance to speak to him (what would you even say?) before you get ready for work and there’s rarely time for anything once your shift starts. It’s hectic as always and only gets worse as the day goes on, with the computer systems going down and a water slide collapsing and all the other crazy shit that goes on daily at the ED. Same shit, different day.
Except today is shittier, because as the hours pass Dr Robinavitch gets increasingly 'Robinabitch' and it’s not even funny any more. His face is a permanent scowl, save for the moments he just looks So. Fucking. Sad.
At one point you get a chance to ask him about his plans for his sabbatical, but he blows you off with a noncommittal shrug and a “I don’t know yet.” It worries you for reasons you can’t quite articulate. The weight you felt in your stomach this morning drops lower and the pressure persists well into the next hour.
Eventually you talk to Dana about it, not knowing what to do about the feeling and you know the two of them go way back. She tries not to show it, but you can tell she’s upset and worried about him too.
“Don’t you worry hon, you know how he gets these moods. It will be better when he gets out of here.” She pats you on the back, but you’re not convinced and see her talking to Dr Abbot later - they both look worried. Could be work-related, or it’s what you suspect - they’re both worried about their long-time friend going on a motorbike trip with no helmet and no plan.
You hope Dr Abbot talks to him, they’ve been friends a long time and he at least seems to have the sense to go to therapy and try to face his demons. If he did talk to Robby, it’s not apparent.
Just before Dr Robby leaves you get wind of him screaming at Dr Al-Hashimi, his fellow attendant no less. When you spot him one his way to the locker room his entire demeanor screams bad news, his shoulders hunched and his eyes rimmed red.
The pit in your stomach feels eerily familiar, you've experienced something like this before and it causes all the alarm bells to ring inside your head. A strange controlled panic takes over your body. It feels like a turning point - one of those moments that can change the course of history. You try to calm yourself down. Surely you’re overthinking this, surely it’s not that bad, surely-
You dive into an empty room, any room, and press the palms of your hands into your eyes as you breath quickens, on the verge of hyperventilating. This can’t be happening. As you’re about to spiral you make a decision. Maybe you’ll look like an absolute fool, but your gut is telling you something and you decide you'd rather look like a fool than stand by and let something terrible happen. You’ll take the humiliation if it means you tried.
So you stride to the ambulance bay where Dr Robby’s bike is parked, speedwalking in case you miss him leaving. Relief and then anxiety wash over you when you spot his bike, and you wait for him there, leaning-but-not-leaning against his bike somewhat awkwardly. When he comes out the sliding doors he is looking down at the pavement and doesn’t even see you.
“Give me your keys.” He looks up, his sad expression morphing into a confused one.
“What?”
“Give me your keys.” You repeat, your tone demanding.
“What for?” It’s a sign of his current mental state how long it takes for him to catch on, and you take that brief chance to step up to him and snatch the keys from his hand. “Hey! What the fuck?”
He’s immediately agitated and reaches towards his keys, but you quickly pocket them. “You shouldn’t be driving like this. Besides, where’s your helmet? A proper jacket perhaps?” You cock your head and raise your eyebrows, trying to appear calm and self-assured, but your heart is racing. You hate confrontation, but there’s no backing down now.
“Give me the keys.” Robby grunts, mirroring your mask of cool collectedness neither of you feel.
“I’ll drive you home.” You quip, and move to lead the way to your car. When you try to pass him Robby grabs you by the shoulder, hard. His usual firm grip was supportive, this was borderline painful.
“I don’t need you to baby me. I’ve been waiting for this sabbatical for months. Give.me.my.keys.” He practically growls out the last words, which would be arousing if he wasn’t looking at you like he contemplated hitting you. You can practically see the veins popping on his forehead in the bright lights of the ambulance bay, his jaw clenching as he waits for you to give in.
For a split second you fear he could get violent, yet you don’t give in. With a trembling voice you deny him again. “No.”
You can’t help but flinch even before Robby has time to react, and it breaks something in him. The pressure on your shoulder disappears and you’re left staring at Dr Robby’s shape re-entering the hospital.
When you finally catch up to him he has already stomped his way back into the ER. Dana looks up just when he passes the nurse’s station and her eyebrows just about reach her hairline in surprise.
“I thought you were leaving?”
“I was, but somebody took it upon themselves to steal my keys!” He exclaims loudly, shocking everyone within earshot (which is quite a lot of people, given the unusually high volume of his statement).
“Robby-” You start, but he whips around to face you, eyes blazing.
“Fuck off, will you?”
“Robby!” Both Dana and Dr Abbot start yelling at Robby and you feel the situation slipping out of control. This isn’t going well. You’re not sure what you expected to happen, but a screaming match in the ED wasn’t your intention. You appreciate Dana scolding Robby for being rude to one of her nurses, and Abbot absolutely agrees he shouldn’t be driving into the night like that- but by god, it’s keeping people from focussing on their patients.
So now you grab Robby by the arm and hiss at him to come to the break room with you. “People are staring, think about the patients.”
He wants to insult you again but thinks better of it, glancing over at all his colleagues - his friends - staring at him. With a huff he lets himself be dragged to the thankfully empty break room. You let go off his arm and step away to create some distance, and start rambling before he has a chance to start screaming at you again.
“Look, it was not my intention to cause a scene. Or to ‘baby’ you, for that matter. You’re an adult and make your own choices, but I cannot in good conscience let you get on that bike to- to” Your resolve starts to crumble a little and the tremble in your voice returns, “To drive yourself off a cliff or some shit and not do anything. By all means blow me off and go on your stupid suicidal mission tomorrow. You can scream at me, hate me, I’d rather you not hit me-”
“I would never do that.” He looks deflated, and somewhere between insulted and guilty at the accusation. You press on.
“The point is that if I let you go now and something happens I will never forgive myself.”
“Nothing is going to happen.” He tries weakly, but you’re not convinced.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me, convince me, you’re not thinking about hurting yourself riding that bike.”
Robinavitch sputters and makes several attempts at forming a convincing spiel, but he can’t. He hasn’t been honest about his trip all day, but he wasn’t able to outright lie at you at this point. “Fuck.” You simultaneously breath out a sigh, letting go of some of the tension.
“I’ll drive you home,” you offer again, “we’ll have some food, you get some rest, and then we’ll talk in the morning.” The implication that you might stay at his place goes unnoticed by him. Going through so many emotions in such a short time has left him exhausted and deflated. Slowly he starts nodding, looking at the ground. His voice is rough and feels fragile.
“Yeah.. alright, yeah.”
It's a small step, but it's the first.