Charlie

maybe that sounds harsh, but the reality is that the "feedback" that social media fans have overwhelmingly given (yes, I'll refer to the barrage of hate comments over cast changes and cast-hinted character relationships not happening) is not the kind of feedback the creative team are focusing on.

this is a medical show. it's not greys anatomy, it's not a multi-romance pile up with a clinical bow on top, it's a medical show. it was produced with the sole aim of educating about, and drawing attention to, the failing us medical system, and how that impacts hospital staff (especially in the wake of covid) and patients of all different demographics, while finally giving healthcare workers a voice.

*that* is what the show is about. *that* is what the show cares about getting right. they're telling the story of a doctor struggling with ptsd and severe mental health issues, and how the system has allowed that to happen. they're telling you to open your eyes and be aware of the precarious situation they are all in.

this is not a romance show. it isnt even a found family show, despite the fact we see interpersonal dynamics of the staff portrayed very well. the writers *are not very interested* in feedback about these things in relation to how interested they are in getting the medical side right.

because they *do* take feedback on board, and they take it seriously. and they prioritise feedback *from* the medical field, or relating to the medical cases. in season one, it was pointed out that there were no respiratory therapists in the ER when several cases displayed would've necessitated them to be present. in season two, respiratory therapists were duly added to improve accuracy. feedback around season two highlighted that many missed the prominent role of a black female doctor after collins' departure, as she provided an important presence for many black patients to feel comfortable and recieve higher quality care, and they've responded by writing ellis as a main character next season to make sure that's done justice.

the feedback they want is to do with their main purpose as a medical show, and that's the feedback they'll respond to. while yeah, some romantic relationships may be on display (trinity and garcia, for example), this is not and will not be a focus for them. it can enhance a character storyline, but it will never *be* a character's storyline. it makes sense that if they were to choose between acting on feedback about mohabbot (im sorry, mohabbot fans, but this is the one I see lamented most) or about medical care portrayal.... they're picking the medical care.

robby who knows no one is coming to save him. no one is coming to take the pills from his hands or coddle him or kiss it better, and it's been decades since he's deserved anything like that. robby who knows he's alone, and feels it in every inch of his body, in his marrow, rotting his bones from the inside out. robby who doesn't want to die. he just wants his mom.

rotating the bottle in his hands, over and over, toying with it, with his life. willing his phone to ring, but it never does. jack texts him, sometimes, dennis, even rarer. call me if it gets dark. puts all the pressure on him, huh? to reach out? to lift his phone that feels heavier than it should, limbs frail, hands shaking? to find the contact and press call, knowing that in the seconds it'll take him to do so, he'll succumb to cowardice and not call at all?

it's the closest he's come to resenting jack, truly, wholly resenting him. because fuck him for that, fuck him for not calling. fuck him for offering instead of forcing. fuck him for letting him leave that goddamn hospital. fuck him for ever wrapping robby in a hug if he was just going to let go.

robby crumples in on himself, and he wants his mom, and he always wants his mom, because fuck his dad. he doesn't care if his dad wants him or not. he wants his mom to want him, to want him again. the fuzzy edges of her wanted him, once. she used to pet the back of his head after he had a nightmare, slow and steady, soothing him. his own hand raises to mirror it now, petting the back of his head, sniffling something wet and embarrasing, whimpering like a wounded animal. he wants his mom.

and it's a humiliation ritual, to struggle this hard, to be fucking bad at killing himself. it makes sense, really. he's failed at so many things, so many times, it's in his nature. his legs bounce again, his free hand clutching the bottle of pills, willing himself to just fucking do it.

robby doesn't want to die. call me if it gets dark.

and he fucking hates him for it, hates him for it, and he's dropping the pills and rummaging for his phone, breathing shaky with tears burning in his eyes as he stabs the contact, stabs the call. jack doesn't get a word out.