My Name Is Bella

You hear Jack's breath hitch, "I see. So you'll be gone for what, two-three years?"

You nod, "Probably. I'm...I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just-I applied and I got in. I wanted to explore and learn a little more before going right into an attending position."

"No, no. It's fine. I get it. You don't have to tell me anything. But, um, if you ever need anything from me, let me know."

You softly smile at him, "I know. Thank you, Jack."

"Of course. You're gonna do amazing things out there, Specs." He collects his things and heads out without you. A weird emptiness filling your body as he walks away, not looking back at you.

____

Ellis and Shen decided to throw you a going away party at a local bar and grill place. A section of the restaurant sectioned off for just you and the PTMC crew. Some would trickle in before or after their shift, but it was a good turn out. You had a good buzz to you, your belly filled with a mix of alcohol and chicken wings.

You sit on a bar stool chatting with Javadi about her TikTok when McKay mumbles to you as she passes, "Look who just arrived."

You see Jack weaving through groups of people headed your way. You weren't really sure if he'd come. Ever since he learned about your fellowship things have been...weird. You two still worked in perfect sync during your last shifts at PTMC, but it wasn't as...fun and lighthearted between you two. It felt like how it did when you first started working with them, a little tense and super professional.

But seeing him now had your face beaming as he gets closer, "Jack!" You meet him halfway with a little sway in your step.

He places his hands on your shoulders to steady you, "Looks like you've been having fun." His eyes rake up and down your body, taking in the tight jeans and flattering top you're wearing, "You look beautiful."

You giggle, "Thanks!" You take him in, he's in his scrubs and you look at your watch, "You should be sleeping. You work in a two hours," you begin to push him back and he chuckles.

"Specs, it's fine. I work just fine on a few hours of sleep."

You look at him with crossed arms and a frown, "You always tell me to get enough sleep before a shift."

He smirks at you, "And what else do I always say?"

You feel it again. That familiarity and playful banter you two would always do. You missed it during your last few shifts. You sigh, arms dropping to your side, "To do as you say and not as you do."

"Exactly. But I just wanted to come to celebrate your achievements, maybe grab a quick meal, then head out."

"Well there's a lot of food and drinks. Definitely try the wings. They're soooo good!"

He laughs, "I'll do that, but first," he holds up a gift bag that you didn't even process him holding.

You feel yourself melt, "You didn't have to...can I open it now?"

He shrugs, "Sure."

You let out a 'hehehe' as you pull out the decorative tissue and gasp. You pull out a rectangular box that has an all too familiar logo of a cursive 'L' on it, "Oh, you absolutely didn't have to, Jack!"

You lift the lid and your eyes widen. Inside was a Littmann Master Cardiology Stethoscope with a stainless steel finish and the tubing in your favorite color, "A standard one would have been completely fine!"

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs, "You deserve the best. I wanted to make sure you had something that was completely yours, not a hand-me down." He references to the stethoscope that you've been using all throughout med school and residency, one that was handed down to you from an aunt that no longer practiced medicine.

You take it in, fingers grazing along the tubing and down the chest piece. You see an engraving along the edge of the metal piece. You bring it closer and see your nickname, given by Jack, in cursive.

Specs

You feel your eyes tearing up, "Thank you, Jack. This means a lot," you wrap your arms around him. His arms slowly wrap around you, "Of course. You're welcome," he lowers his voice for only you to hear, "I'm proud of you, Specs...I'm gonna miss you."

You let out a little sob, "You can't say things like that."

His hold on you tightens, "It's true. I hope you learn and do amazing things in California."

"I'm going to miss you too," you mumble back and pull away. He softly smiles as he wipes your tears away, "I'm sorry I made you cry."

"It was bound to happen. Apparently some people have some speeches planned later, so I'll probably be crying more."

"Someone better record it."

You snort, "Yeah, I'll make sure someone does. Don't think I'll remember much by then."

Jack clears his throat and takes a few steps back, "Go ahead and mingle. I don't wanna keep ya. Like I said, just wanted to give you that, grab something to eat and head out."

"Okay. Thank you again for coming and..and for that very thoughtful yet expensive gift."

He playfully rolls his eyes, "Like I said, you deserve it and, hey, once you pay off your student loans and start making that attending money, I expect the same treatment."

"Bougie bitch."

"God forbid a guy likes to be spoiled."

You cackle and walk away to grab more to drink and Jack heads to the buffet style area that was set aside for your party.

While he's filling his plate, someone approaches him, "Soooo," he hears Shen's voice and Jack shakes his head.

"Don't start."

"What? I just wanna know why you haven't gifted any of us a super expensive stethoscope."

"Because I don't like any of you."

"So you admit you like Specs?" Shen smirks at his fellow attending and Jack pauses, glaring at his coworker.

"Don't you have anyone else to bother?"

"Not that the moment, no."

Jack rolls his eyes and grabs a table, sitting with Javadi and McKay.

__________________

You were all packed up and ready to go. Your essentials already on a moving truck headed across the country. The rest of your things in a storage you share with McKay and Ellis.

Before you fully set off for the airport, you decide to stop at the PTMC one last time.

The night shift is in full swing and, to no surprise, the waiting room is full and the ED is bustling.

"Hey, honey! Aren't you supposed to be on a flight?" Lena comes around the hub and hugs you.

"My flight is in three hours. I wanted to stop by to finish up my good-byes."

The older woman hums, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "He's with a patient right now, but I'm sure he'll be back out soon."

"I'm not here for-"

"Save it, honey. I know and see all, remember?" she gives you a wink and goes back to the computer she was previously standing at.

You stay at the central hub, chatting with Lena, relaying your plans of when you land in San Diego.

"Hey, shouldn't you be at the airport by now?" You turn around and see him approaching you.

You let out a deep breath, "Final good-byes before I head there."

Jack rolls his lips in, hands going in his pockets, "Right."

You look around and see a few eyes on the both of you. You gesture in the direction of the break room, "Can we talk for a few minutes?"

"Sure." He follows your lead to the break room where he shuts the door behind you two, "What else did you want to talk about?"

"I-We-Fuck. I don't know. I just feel like there's so much I've been holding in, that I've been wanting to tell you. And I want to tell you now because I'm leaving and I'm not exactly sure when or if I'll be back!" your heart starts racing and you start tearing up because you're suddenly feeling like you're drowning from all the love and affection you've held for Jack all these years.

"I'm going to miss you so much and I don't know how I'm gonna do without you there guiding me and reassuring me and-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, sweetheart. It's okay," he pulls you into his arms, holding you close to him. You allow yourself to relish in his warmth, this smell.

"You'll be just fine without me," he murmurs, "You'll find your place in San Diego and they're gonna love you over there. I'm sure they're a lot less grumpy over there in sunny California."

You let out a watery laugh, "I like your grumpiness."

Jack hums and pulls away from you, thumbing away at your tears. He glances at your lips for a second and leans in.

His lips meet your forehead and your eyes flutter close. His lips stay there for a few moments before he pulls away.

He then physically creates distance from you by backing away, hands in his pockets again. When he says "Good-bye" he pairs it with your name and it feels like the final nail in the coffin.

You simply nod and exit the break room, giving Lena and everyone in the area one last polite smile and wave before heading out.

“Give it to me straight, Doc,” you joked. One of his gloved hands cupped your chin, nudging your gaze up. The other dabbed gently at the cut to your forehead. “Am I gonna make it?”

There was a line of displeasure in his lips. “Not funny,” he mumbled.

“Sure it is.”

“No, it's not.”

You rolled your eyes before going back to focusing on him.

It was rare you got to watch him in his concentration. Usually you were in the middle of a trauma when he pulled out the serious face and things were moving too fast for you to even catch a glimpse. Now- his focus was all on you. You could study the creases at his brows and the flecks of grey in his beard.

“You ever notice you have these deep lines between your eyebrows when you're concentrating?”

“It's called age,” he said but there was the smallest hint of a smile there.

“Aren't you twenty-seven?”

This time he couldn't stop the smirk of amusement and finally you won.

Robby dabbed away the blood at your cut, changing the gauze. “Don't think you're distracting me.”

You hummed as he tilted your head into the light. “Distracting you from what?”

“Reporting him.”

You grew silent and looked away.

It was Robby's turn to stare at you, eyes without warmth, stern in ways he was with patients that didn't want to listen to good advice. You may be sitting on a bed in exam room four and you may have a chart written up but you were not a patient. “He was scared and confused-”

“ - he pushed you.”

“And I was the one that tripped and bashed my head.”

“He threw you down!”

You winced at his snap and then winced at the pain your wincing brought you.

Robby sighed with some sort of regret. His fingertips brushed your skin as he finished cleaning the cut and you couldn't help but think it was a deliberate move. He'd been so careful not to touch or apply pressure but suddenly the callous of his fingers were there.. “If we don't take care of ourselves nobody else will do it.”

It was the same thing Dana had said to you when she saw the patient push you down and run out the room in distress, hospital gown slipping on his shoulders. She'd taken you under her arm, stirred you to a chair. She was firm in both checking you were okay and that you were going to report him for hurting you.

You look past Robby, trying to see through the glass door. The Pitt carried on it's usual bustle but Dana kept a close eye out on you in the room. “Where is he now?”

“None of your concern,” he said. “The cut's clean, looks like you won't need stitches.”

“You've restrained him haven't you?”

Robby frowned. His head shook slightly in disbelief- like he couldn't believe you. “He hurt you. Jesus- you think I was gonna just tuck him back in bed- you think Dana was!”

You were used to the rise in Robby's voice, as attending it was his job to command everyone. You just didn't like to hear it risen at you. “He woke up, confused and startled.”

The patient was brought in un-conscious at the side of the road, a gash in his arm. Nobody knew his name but you'd admitted him and ran some tests while he was semi-conscious. He'd woken up as you were checking his IV and the next thing you knew hard hands were pushing you away. You'd taken the tray down with you and smacked your head in the process. Then he'd ran and then Robby had you in his arms, willing to pick you up and carry you off if it weren't for your insistence to walk to an exam room.

Robby's body heaved in a sigh as he put his hands on his thighs. “He hurt you,” he repeated, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

You slowly met his gaze as he got closer on the stall in front of you. “I've had worse.”

It wasn't supposed to be a dig but as his eyes met yours in a haze of dark anxiety you figured it came off that way.

Really what happened between you and Robby was ancient history. A whole six months since you'd stopped seeing each other; if that's what it could be called. It was really only one stupid kiss and several flirts that created the thick tension between you two. Nothing had ever been done to encourage it further, yet nothing had also been done to squash it.

Whilst his gaze remained on you, Robby got out his penlight and checked your pupil reaction.

“Any pain?”

“Well, the light's a bit bright.”

He put it down and with his gloved hands he slowly pressed around the small cut on your forehead, hands cupping your face tenderly. “Any pain?”

“No, you've done all this twice now.”

“It's procedure for any patient.”

“It's special treatment,” you grumbled.

Robby grabbed a bandage from the tray. “You're a special patient.”

The heat crept up your cheeks before you stared at the bandage.

“Robby-”

In one hand he held a bandage, in the other a small spider-man plaster that he so obviously got from pedes.

You stared at him. “Really?”

His cheeks tilted in a small teasing grin. “All we have, I'm afraid.”

You seriously doubted it but tapped the spider-man plaster nonetheless. “I'm sure I could have done this myself, you know,” you said as he peeled away the plaster. “Or at least got one of the nurses to do it. I'm sure you're needed somewhere more important.”

He frowned again. “More important?”

“There's a guy that came in with a GSW to the chest ten minutes ago and you're saying you don't need to be there?”

Robby's hands fell to either side of your face, gently taking your cheeks. His thumb brushed the curve of your cheek bone. He could feign he was checking your pupils but you both knew better. “There's nowhere else I need to be.”

Six months ago you'd kissed in a bar ten minutes away from the Pitt. Every day since- you'd been fighting the urge to kiss him again.

At that moment, with his gentle touch and soft gaze, you wondered if he'd been fighting to.

“Look up,” Robby said with a clear of his throat.

You weren't sure what he was trying to check for anymore. Maybe he was just looking for an easy way out.

“I still want you to get a CT scan.”

“Now that's dramatic, I didn't expect that from you.”

“Any nasuea?”

You shook your head as Robby steadied you, sliding the plaster in place.

“Have you been drinking enough today?”

“Two cups of coffee count?”

Robby gave you a plain look as he yanked off the latex gloves, throwing them into a corner of the room. “Ten minutes rest, I'll bring you some food and water.”

You sighed dramatically. “Robby!”

He pushed himself up from his stool. “As you're attending I'm not asking, I'm-”

“Telling?” you guessed.

Robby hovered as you pushed yourself up back on the bed. You wouldn't say it but your head was hurting from the fall. Nothing more than a headache that some painkillers couldn't stop. If you told Robby that yes, you were in pain, you were sure he'd pull the curtain, change you into a gown and play doctor all day.

You lied back on the pillow as Robby plumped it and smoothed out the sheets under you. He was lingering and for a moment you thought of asking him to stay.

Your mouth had opened to ask when the door was nudged open.

“Robby, we got a car crash coming in five,” said Dana. She looked at you then, eyes crinkled in worry. “How you feeling, hun?”

“I'm fine, thanks Dana.”

She nodded once, offering you a small smile before leaving.

You looked up at Robby as his body lingered over yours, one arm stretched high above your head, the other lower. Your gaze flickered up and you could feel the warmth of his breath fan over you. “Ten minutes?” you asked.

“On the clock.”

“Then I'm free to go?”

His head tilted, a sly smirk playing around his thin beard. “I'm not keeping you a prisoner.”

You folded your arms over your chest, glancing away. “Feels like it.”

He chuckled lightly. For a moment his breath lingered over your forehead, closer than before.

When you glanced up he froze, hands clenched on the bed, his jaw taunt. It was as if you'd caught him in the act.

Suddenly you wished you hadn't looked up. You wished you'd let him do whatever he was going to do. Because once he'd been caught he straightened up and threw you an awkward thumbs up. “Ten minutes.”

You trace your finger over the plaster as you slowly left your room, creeping out like you were a teenager sneaking out of your parents to meet a guy. Except you were trying to avoid the guy.

“That was eight minutes!”

You looked up and found Robby at the nurses station, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Were you timing me?”

Robby held up his phone, showing you the timer he had counting down as next to him, Dana snorted. “Have you had something to drink? Or eat?” he asked as you leant over the counter. He was still watching you eagerly, waiting for any sign you were in more pain then you let on so he could send you back to bed.

“Thought you were getting me a drink?”

He rolled his eyes before obliging, sliding away to get you a drink. He turned back only once. “Don't go near him!” he called, the both of you knowing who the he was.

You saluted him, watching him go before turning to Dana. “How is he?”

She peered at you over her glasses. “Terrible. He's been worried sick, was practically watching you through those windows. Didn't blink for a minute!”

“Not Robby, my patient. The John Doe.”

“Well that ain't your concern anymore," she said.

“I want to treat him.”

“He's awake now, we've restrained him in twelve but Robby wants you nowhere near him.”

“Robby is over-reacting,” you sighed.

Dana lifted her shoulders. “Of course he is, it's you. You think he's gonna react rationally?”

Nobody was supposed to know about you and Robby and the thing that lingered in the middle. But somehow, Dana always ended up knowing everything.

You backed away from the counter, assuring Robby was nowhere to be seen. “Twelve, you said right?”

Dana huffed but lucky for you there were a dozen more things she needed to do. “Fine! Go! But take security with you!”

You saluted and headed that way. Outside the door, Ahmed was already there.

“Hey, doc,” he greeted. “He's been asking about you, said he wants to apologise.”

You weren't scared like you thought you'd be, stepping into the room while Ahmed promised to stay outside, just a shout away of you needed him. Your heart wasn't pounding as you slowly moved the curtain, finding the patient lying on the bed, restraints around his wrists and tied down. He wasn't thrashing about. He was calm, clocking you as you walked in.

“You're the nurse?” he said.

“Doctor, actually,” you said, introducing yourself.

He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes or add colour to his face. There was nothing in his eyes anyhow. He was pale and the thin bandaging that had been done for his arm while he struggled was bleeding through. “I-I pushed you, I am so sorry.”

You were about to say it was fine, but it wasn't you shouldn't tell him it was. You could accept the apology but still acknowledge that whatever state he was in, you shouldn't have been hurt. “Do you know where you are?”

“The hospital?”

“That's right, PTMC. Can you tell me your name?”

He nodded, gulping. There was a thin layer of sweat over his skin. “David Brown.”

“And do you know what month it is?”

“M-March.”

“Okay, good,” you said, making a quick note of his name in his chart. You sat down on the stool, shuffling to the side of his bed. “Mr Brown-”

“David,” he corrected you.

“David,” you said. “You were brought in just under an hour ago with a pretty bad laceration to your lower right arm. You were found un-conscious. Do you remember anything?”

You watched the sweat bead at his forehead, his eyes scrunched as he tried to think. His breathing grew heavier, face morphed into pain as he tried to think. “It's okay if you don't.”

“I-I don't,” a stray tear fell down his cheek.

“That's okay,” you assured him. “I'm gonna order you a CT and a toxic screening just to rule out any drugs or alcohol in your system. Is that okay?”

David's head jerked in something like a nod before you door swung open, clattering on the other side of the wall.

Robby stood at the end of the bed, face red, hands at his hips. “What are you doing in here?” he snapped.

“Doctor Robby-”

He gave you no time to explain, jutting his head back. “Step outside please, doctor.”

You stood, slowly and walked out slower.

David called out after you. “I really am sorry!”

Robby looked back like he didn't believe him.

The two of you stepped out and you spoke before he could, beating him by a second. “I'm ordering him a CT and toxicity test. That gash on his arms needs to be cleaned and stitched up, it's bleeding out.”

Robby didn't care to hear it. He pulled the curtains over and closed the door as he followed you out. “What did you think you were doing in there?”

“Tending to my patient.”

“I told you to leave him.”

“He wanted to say sorry. Ahmed, didn't he want to apologise?” you said, looking to security for some help.

Ahmed held up his hands. “Oh- I want nothing in this!”

“If he wanted to apologise he could've wrote a letter. Told me to apologise to you,” he said, still holding onto his anger. “I told you to leave it, the guy attacked you!”

“Lightly shoved me from shock!”

“Have you seen what he did to your head?”

“Yeah, a small cut, doesn't even need stitches- that's what you said!”

“It's a wound! There was blood!” he yelled. “You are not to go anywhere near him from now on, do you understand?”

There was a new anger in Robby then, something you saw rarely in him. Dana had said he was worried about you but you saw none of that concern in him now, only anger. Anger because you hadn't listened to him not because of well fair.

“I'm a doctor, I'm supposed to be helping people,” you defended, your own anger not rising to his.

His hands balled into fists. “Help someone who's asking for it. I see you in with that guy again and you're on triage for a week, you understand?”

Where was that softness in his eyes? Where was that care he tended to you in the room all alone?

“You understand?” he snapped again when you didn't answer.

You knew if you turned there'd be several pairs of eyes on the pair of you. Watching, assessing, see how you reacted. Nobody had ever heard Robby speak to you like that because he'd never shouted at you before. “I understand, Doctor Robinavitch.”

“So you yelled at her.”

Robby thought he'd find solace on the roof, that with only him and the night sky he stood a chance at thinking things through logically, for once on the right side of the rail.

Then Jack's voice sounded behind him and the peace he was searching for fell further out of reach.

“Who told you?” he asked, head falling.

“Oh, you know,” he mumbled, shoes shuffling over the roof as he got closer to him. “Just everybody that was in attendance to your little show.”

Jack leant next to him on the rail, staring at him.

Robby could feel his eyes but looked out on the skyline that was more favourable to him. Jacks eyes felt like everybody else that watched him yell at you. He could call it worry- it didn't change the way your face dropped the louder his voice rose.

“You wanna talk about it?” asked Jack.

“No.”

“I heard she got attacked.”

“Or lightly pushed as she'd put it.”

“She's a soldier.”

Robby shook his head. “No, she's a doctor. Today she could have been neither if that man-” the words chocked in his throat. What if he had hurt you even more? Punched you? Strangled you? He'd seen it all in the ER and yes, you'd been hurt before but that didn't mean he needed to have you hurt again.

“I saw her when I was coming up, she seemed fine,” said Jack. “About to clock off, you sure you want to end the day on such a bad note.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me.”

“Come on, she always wants to talk to you,” said Jack. “And I only know that cause you always want to talk to her.”

Robby wished he could say that telling Jack about the kiss so many months ago was a mistake but he couldn't because that would mean kissing you was a mistake. The only mistake made with that kiss is that he hadn't pulled you back in, kissed you every day since. But he'd told Jack on one of those lonely nights when they'd each had one too many beers how much he missed you even if he saw you every day.

“I was so fucking scared, brother,” he admitted with a long exhale of breath. Robby slumped over the rail, catching himself. “Code hula-hoop was called and her name and I- I didn't know...”

Jack's hand was firm on his back. “I know.”

Robby nodded, head tucked down. He wouldn't cry, he wasn't sure how these days but he sure as hell felt like it. It had been a hell of day, worse when he couldn't join your side without you walking off.

“You were worried, you don't know what to do with that,” said Jack.

He could admit that much.

“You go home now, she goes home, you're carrying this weight to the next day and it'll continue,” he said, therapizing him. “You were scared you might have lost her?”

Robby glanced Jack's way. There was never any judgment, only a keen understanding he sometimes didn't like.

“You might lose her if you don't do something about it.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Jack shrugged. “Apologise.”

Robby hesitated, the words 'I'm sorry' foreign on his tongue.

Jack chuckled low in his throat. “Is that really so hard for you?”

He nodded and Jack carried on laughing. By the end, even Robby was chuckling through watery eyes.

“Okay, okay, let's try,” said Jack, straightening up, encouraging him to do the same. “Repeat after me, I'm sorry.”

“Jesus-”

“Jesus, you can't even say it-listen we'll go slow, I'm-”

Robby's phone rung in his pocket, thankfully saving him from the embarrassment. “Dana-” he answered as he spotted Jack's phone going too.

“Get down here, now!”

“What's going on?” he asked, though his feet were already moving.

He didn't see the way Jack looked at him, he hardly heard how Dana said your name because when she did Robby dropped his phone and ran.

“Robby!” Jack called but he was off the roof and furiously pressing the elevator button. He managed to slide past the doors before they closed on him. “What did Dana say?”

But Robby couldn't speak. He heard Dana's voice re-play in his head again and again. That you had been attacked, that they needed him. He couldn't think beyond that. Beyond you and attacked there was nothing.

Jack was watching him closely. “Okay-” he must've known it was bad too. “Okay, Robby, we don't know what's going on down there but you gotta stay cool, okay? You gotta stay cool or leave us to it.”

He should've kept a closer eye on you, should've sent you home.

“Robby if you get in our way I'm taking you out of there, understand?”

The doors slid open and Robby ran out, Jack quick on his heels.

“Where?” he barked out. There were no faces around him he could figure out, no Dana, no Langdon- so everyone must have been in with you-

“Trauma one!”

Robby burst through the doors.

The chaos was everywhere and he paused. There were more bodies in the trauma room then he'd ever seen. In between them all a body that he could vaguely re-call as yours. Your trainers- usually white- were seeping in blood.

“Can you open your eyes?”

“No respond to command!”

“Two stab wounds to the left flank! First one L-two, second L-five.”

“Is it the spinal chord?” asked Whitaker.

“Can't tell it depends on the angle!” said Langdon. “Jesus- there's too much blood, I can't see a thing!”

You lied on the bed, blood splattered around your clothes, un-responsive to everyone around you. You were letting them prod, push and pull when you'd hardly let him asses your cut just hours ago.

Hours when you were teasing him and he was thinking about kissing you again.

What had happened.

If it was a papercut you'd be feigning death.

This was the closest you'd ever looked to dying and Robby couldn't feel his legs.

"Doctor Robby?" someone called in the room but it wasn't you. You weren't responding to anyone. “Doctor Robby!”

Jack moved past him, body knocking his. “I'm here!”

“BP seventy over fifty, pulse one-twenty.”

Jack moved around you, pressing the chest piece of the stethoscope to your chest. “Push in two litres of O-neg. Good breath sounds bilaterally.”

Robby's ears were ringing but he could feel himself shake his head. “She's not-she's not O-neg, she's B-positive,” he heard himself mumble.

There was a sharp beeping through the room and Robby thought it was a strange sound for his heart breaking.

“Pulse ox ninety-three!”

“Do we intubate?” asked Mohan.

Your body jerked and as if you were the puppet master tugging on his strings, Robby found his feet and moved to your side.

He moved around until he was the closest to you, replacing anyone else at your side. Others watched, un-sure if they should've told him to wait outside like he was family.

Jack gave them the nod and the room moved again.

“Give me ten by mask, no intubation. Send a trauma panel!” ordered Robby.

“We need X-ray for a chest!” yelled Jack.

“X-ray can come to us! I am not moving her!” he shouted. “Help me roll, let me see!”

The blood on the front of your scrubs was splashed but as they turned you, leaning you on your side Robby's body slumped, something like a chocked sob wracking through his body.

He couldn't see the puncture wounds through the blood that soaked you. Just as Langdon had said it was a mess. “Jesus chr- oh god.”

“Pressure's up to ninety palp!”

“Who did this?” he yelled out as they gently set you back.

“The guy who came in un-conscious earlier!”

Jack looked over at Robby.

Robby felt the muscles in his jaws work and he grunted. “I'll kill him,” he grumbled.

“Robby!” lectured Jack.

But he wasn't going to take back his words. “He's fucking dead.”

“He fled the hospital,” Langdon told him. “Left his knife in the room though, they'll find him.”

It couldn't have been a scalpel, it couldn't have been scissors. The guy came in, found a knife- or brought one from home- to harm you. If Robby ever saw him again he'd kill the guy and deal with the consequences that came.

“Toes are down going, no spinal injury,” said someone else in the room but he was losing all focus that wasn't you.

Garcia walked through the doors, joining the crowd of people around you.

“Tell me you've got an OR booked!” said Jack.

“With her name on it! How we doing in here?”

Santos pushed her way ahead, a small and un-characteristic tremble to her hands. There was another unit of blood pushed into your bloodstream and Robby was seconds away from hooking himself up and giving you his very blood. “Pressure's up!” she reported, lingering over you with a light. “Right pupil five millimetres and reactive -”

Suddenly your body jerked at the light. Your head thrashed side to side as you slowly returned to consciousness.

“Huh... I-wha-”

“Hey! Hey!” Robby pushed his way to you, looming over you and catching your eyes.

They were wild, looking around before settling on him.

“Robby?” you uttered, lips dry, dried blood at your neck. Your eyes were looking around like you couldn't quite see.

“Yeah- yeah it's me.” His hand flew to your hair, brushing it back as your eyes were going from him to around you, panic rising in your eyes. “Look at me, focus on me.”

“What-what?”

“You were stabbed,” he uttered.

Your eyes widened and he brushed back your hair again, doctors moving around the two of you. They could've been right on his back or a thousand miles away. All he focused on was you. Your hands waved around, getting in the way of tubes and the doctors.

Robby grabbed your hand, squeezing.

You focused on him and he tried to smile, tried to make himself convinced everything would be alright. He knew it was a grimace.

He'd never hated his medical training more. Because he knew this amount of blood loss was bad, he knew stabbing so close to the spinal chords was dangerous. He knew you were strong and hated staying still for too long and now you'd be forced to recover.

“My pressure?”

“It's up.” He watched as your eyes teared up, looking away from him again. “Good, that's good.”

Your hair sprawled out as you shook your head. “Am I gonna.... will I walk again?”

Robby hesitated. “Yeah- yeah we think it missed your spinal chord.”

Robby knew that but he couldn't help the tears that fell, couldn't help the small sob that ripped through his throat. You'd been calm at the cut with your head, damn right comedic. Now- you were quiet, whimpering and crying in pain and there wasn't anything he could do.

He was a doctor, he could help and check vitals and squeeze the bag of blood slow.

But he couldn't move from your side.

You nod before your back arched in pain and you yelled out.

“BP eighty palp!”

Robby got up, ignoring the ache in his knees as he loomed over you, trying to calm the pain. “Do something!”

“Robby!”

He looked.

You'd drained the blood dry.

“What?” you uttered, voice trembled in terror.

“Okay she needs to go up, now!” Jack called out.

“Let's get her moving!” yelled Garcia.

You groaned in pain. “What's going on?”

Robby didn't know what to do. It wasn't a conversation of telling a patient what was going on or what wasn't. It was telling you. He stuttered lamely, lost as another tear slid down his cheek. You hadn't even cried yet and he was close to blubbering.

His head bowed to you. He was mumbling, he thinks he was praying.

“Robby-” your hand waved out in front of him and he grabbed it, squeezing. “It hurts.”

“Okay, okay, we're gonna-” what was he gonna do? He pressed your hand to his lips, holding it there.

“Hey, honey,” Jack appeared at your other side and your eyes moved to see him but Robby didn't let go. “Hell of a way to get into the night shift.”

“Jack-” you winced.

Jack looked from you to Robby, the same way he looked at the family of unfortunate patients. “We're taking her up to the OR now.”

Your fingers wiggled in Robby's grasp and he looked back to you. “It's bad huh?”

“No, no,” said Robby smoothing back your hair again.

“Your losing a lot of blood, and your foley output is bright red,” said Jack. “But we're gonna sort it and you'll be fine. You trust me?”

Your breathing was shallow, hard breaths hardly coming out. Still, you tried to smile. “Do I- do I have a choice?” your voice came out through seethes of breath.

Robby closed his eyes tight, as if he could feel the own stabbing in his heart.

“Robb-Robby?”

He glanced at you, your eyes fluttering shut. The little hold you had on his hand weakening. He fumbled up, hands holding your cheeks. “Woah-woah- open your eyes! Look at me- look at me!”

You mumbled, head lulling.

“Going up!”

“Look at me, open your eyes!” he all but shouted at you as your eyes were still rolling to the back of his head, wavering between waking and whatever else was on the other side.

“Robby!”

Robby held onto the side of your bed as the team around you wheeled you away and through. There was a stutter of shock waving through the crowd, fear chocking them, shock eating at them. There was police around, all trying to get a look.

“Talk to her, Robinavitch!” said Garcia.

He didn't talk to patients, he evaluated them, stitched them up when he could.

Robby looked up at Jack, hoping for help. He looked grave, watching Robby un-sure but people came back from worse. You'd come back. “Hey, hey look at me,” he uttered and squeezed your hand. When that didn't work he pulled at your eyelids and finally you responded with a grumble.

The elevator doors slid open and you were hauled in, Robby squeezed in too.

“Wh-what?”

He got a flash of your eyes before they closed again.

Your lips were dry and chapped but Robby kissed you anyway, pressing his lips to yours soft, not pushing afraid he'd hurt you but he wanted you to know he was there.

He smiled. He'd never seen you first thing in the morning, he imagined this is what it was. Groggy eyes, words hardly there but with less pain and blood. Robby pulled back and ignored the blood drying in splatters on your neck. “Are you with me, honey?”

You blinked and groaned in pain. “I don't-I don't know.”

“You're with me, yeah you are, you're with me,” Robby mumbled. “You look very pretty, even covered in blood, you know that?” he mumbled, trying to say it so only you could hear.

There was a huff of a smile followed by pain.

“You can't flirt with me while I'm dying, Robinavitch.”

Your eyes fluttered shut.

Robby grabbed your face, smooching your cheek maybe a bit too harsh. “You're not going anywhere.”

“You've pushed four bags,” you whispered. “You're gonna push a five.”

There was a huff of laugh from Jack.

Robby sniffed. You were too good at your job sometimes, ignoring the ache in his back as he leant over you. “You shouldn't be counting.”

“What can I say I'm over-qualified,” your eyes shut again but your lips moved in mumbles.

“What is it? What are you saying?” he asked, a crack in his voice. “What? Tell me.... tell me.”

But you weren't really there anymore. You were incoherent, eyes not really there. None of you was really there. “Robby.... Rob.... please, Robby.”

“What? I'm here, I'm right here, okay? Okay, honey?” Robby felt his chest cave in. “What's taking this elevator so long?” he snapped.

“It's bad, I know,” you said, fingers drifting soft over his arm before it dropped. “I can't- I can't-”

The doors slid open, a team waited on the other side.

Garcia pushed you ahead into the team, spouting who she wanted to scrub in, telling them all who she wanted out front watching. Your condition was a perfect teaching sort.

You weren't for teaching. You were for saving!

Robby wanted to tell as much as the team wheeled you away and Jack's arm came out to stop him.

“You can't go in there man,” he said.

“Like hell I can't!”

“No, you can't!” said Jack.

Any other time Robby would have argued more but he had nothing to say. He needed to be there, he wanted to be there but as soon as they cut you open he'd break. As soon as he saw inside your body he'd tie himself to you.

He'd seen over a hundred bodies cut open in his time but yours might break him.

Robby nodded, hands going to the back of his head.

Someone in the room cried and it took him a moment to realise it was him.

“Hey-hey-” Jack embraced him and Robby couldn't reach to hug him back but he could let himself down. “I will go in, I will be there, you know I will do everything to save her. We will save her.”

“Abbott!” Garcia shouted. “If we're moving, we're moving now!”

To save your life, Robby let him go and stood alone. He looked down at his hand as if he could feel the ghost hold of you still there. When he looked down, all he saw was the hair on the back and the tremble of his fingers.

Robby- for the first time since he was a boy- learnt how to cry.

He tried- boy did he try- to get back into the swing of things. Robby walked into the Pitt with red, blotchy eyes and a waver in his voice. He looked at the board, picked up a sixty year old patient with migraines.

“Hello I'm Doctor Robinavitch, everyone calls me Robby. What seems to be the problem today?”

That was as far as he got before Dana walked in.

“No, no, no, no!” she said, putting the chart down and dragging him out. “I am so sorry Mrs Klepton, we'll get Doctor Shen with you in just a moment. Come with me.”

He was dragged out like a scolded child and shoved into the lounge.

“What do you think you're doing?” she'd snapped.

Robby had put himself in the corner, crowding himself in, arms over his head. What was he doing? Trying to be useful. You'd be up in the OR lord knew how long. If he sat and waited he'd go mad.

Dana leant on the counter. “What'd you think you're doing here, Robinavitch? Get outta here, go home! Better yet go wait for her.”

“I-I can't.”

“Robby.”

He could feel the tears start again. Didn't the human run out of tears eventually? They didn't teach that in med school. “I- I can't. I'm useful in-in here, I'm not- I'm not-”

“Right now there's only one person you can be useful to, so go to her.”

That's how he ended up in the OR waiting room, alone, not flicking through the magazines provided, not even watching the fish in the tank. He was just sitting.

Waiting.

At some point he'd taken the clock down to not watch the hands turn but eventually the sun rose and he was terrified like no other day.

It was going on 05:00 am when the door slowly pushed open. It wasn't with a rattle of relief or with a cheer, it was a slow push.

Robby thought his heart was broken before.

He was hunched over himself, elbows balanced on his knees as he hid his face in his hands and slowly rocked himself. “No... no... no...”

“Robby,” Jack said quietly. His steps were slow but he felt his hand on his back.

Robby flinched, shrinking into himself.

Where was the knife so he could stab himself?

“Robby- she's okay.”

There was a crack in his neck from how quick he looked up. It wasn't enough to convince him, his clinical trained mind wondering all the what would comes? Had it got into your spine? How much blood had you lost.

But Jack listed it off like he knew what Robby needed to hear first. It hadn't hit an aorta, it got an artery hence the bleeding but they'd stabilised it with more blood than they would have liked. But you were alive, though sleeping and they had no worries for you at the moment.

Robby nodded when Jack finished. He must have come right from the OR to tell him because he was still in scrubs and covered in blood. Your blood. “Can I see her?”

You didn't look peaceful. Robby had never thought how uncomfortable the hospital gowns must have been until he saw you lying in one. There was oxygen tube in your nose and an IV in your hand. There was some bruising he hadn't noticed before on your arms from the fall you took.

“What do I do now?” Robby mumbled. He was good at the saving lives part, he just wasn't sure what to do when they hung in limbo.

Jack patted his back, leading the way in the room. “For a doctor you're pretty clueless. You sit with her.”

Robby followed in, un-sure what to do with himself so he held onto either end of his stethoscope.

There was a chair already pulled up to your side as Jack busied himself on the other, checking your IV and BP- all looked good.

Robby had caught you napping at your desk once, fallen asleep while charting. He'd admired you for a moment before slowly waking you with a pen poked in your head. You'd looked so peaceful then- nothing like it now.

“Is she cold?”

“No- I don't think so.”

Robby slowly sank down in the chair and picked up your hand again. It stopped the trembling in his at once.

“I gotta get off, I'll cover the day, do something about the nights. Stay with her, call me if there's any changes,” said Jack.

“Thank you, brother,” said Robby.

There was a dull drumming in your head. Your back was aching and even moving your eyes hurt. Beyond all of that there was something else, something heavier.

Your eyes opened slowly and you found the lights ahead. They burned brighter than the sun, like every morning when you walked into PCMT. You tried to hide, to shield yourself with your hand but you couldn't move it.

Panic coursed through you. Why couldn't you move it? Why could you hardly feel your hand? Dear god-

“Hey,” a gentle voice greeted and you searched for them.

Jack stood over you, leaning at you bed.

Your mouth was parched as you tried to speak.

“You're okay,” said Jack in a whisper. “You remember what happened?”

Step by step you thought back. You were leaving, only checking on David once more before sharp pain hit you in the back and you were shoved. When you came too again faces blurred together and pain blinded you to them all.

There was Robby. Somewhere in all of that.

“I was... stabbed?”

Jack nodded, a small trembled in his chin. “Yeah you were. But you're gonna be okay, there was no injury to your spine.”

“I'll walk?”

“Twelve hours time we'll get you up.”

When you focused you could feel the ache in your arm as if someone was pulling it. There was something heavy at the end like someone was holding it, tight.

Robby was at your other side, lying on your arm and holding you down. His body was curved over, head turned away as his back moved in soft breaths.

“Thought I'd let him sleep. He's been up watching you since you came out the OR,” said Jack.

Robby. He'd stayed.

Had you asked him to? You'd wanted him to. Maybe he understood that.

“Thank you, Jack.”

Jack shook his head. There was no need to thank him, you knew that, but you were thanking him for the life you'd put in his hands and that he'd let Robby be at your side. “You want some time?”

You nodded stiff, feeling the ache in your back more and more. You knew you had months ahead of you of pain but you didn't want to dull it with drugs just yet.

Jack petted down your hair once before taking his hoodie off the back of the chair and leaving, closing the door gently.

In the silence you watched Robby a moment longer, matching your new breaths with his. The weight of him on your hand made you tingle as you slowly worked your fingertips back to life.

You tried to move your hand out from his weight but he stirred.

Groggily he turned and looked around the room, waking up more confused then you were.

“Robby?”

His eyes widened.

Robby moved up at once, looming over your bed as you tried to push yourself up. “Hey, hey, take it easy,” he fretted, eyes raking over your body like he was checking all of you were there. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

“Robby-” you tried to protest.

“BP is hundred over eighty.”

You tried to entertain him, just as you had with the cut on your head. If you let him go through the motions just might just end up holding his hand again. So you let him try your nerves, let him ask if you were in pain. You let him ask you to wiggle your fingers and toes. You let him lift one leg and the other as high as he could before you winced in pain.

“Can you stop being my doctor for a second and sit back down?”

Robby seemed startled but hid it quickly. He realised Jack was out the room. “He should've woke me, checked you over.”

“You were resting, he said you'd stayed.”

He looked at you, astonished you'd think he'd go anywhere else.

You watched him sink into his chair, clasping his hands together and wedging them between his knees. Your fingers ached to hold him but your body was weak even talking. “You look tired.”

He chuckled low and smiled. His face was pale, eyes red, hair a mess. His entire body was slumped. “I look tired?”

“A nice tired, a handsome tired.”

You focused on your hand, lifting it enough. You watched as Robby looked down and took it without hesitation, he held it tight, grasping it between his big hands and bringing it to his lips.

You felt him kiss your palm.

“I was stabbed?”

Robby nodded, slowly. “Two puncture wounds, missed the spinal chords, nicked an aorta, bled out. That was our biggest worry but-”

“But I'm okay now?”

Slowly, he nodded.

You groaned, shifting your head aside. You'd have rolled over to show your protest but you had a feeling you'd be putting as little pressure on your back for a while. “Is Mr Brown?”

“The police are looking for him,” said Robby, without letting you even work out just what it is you were trying to ask about.

You nodded slowly, looking down to where your hand disappeared in his. “I'll report him this time, I promise.”

Robby stared at you, eyes wide with something you couldn't name. “I just want you to focus on getting better. On coming back... coming back to me.”

You didn't think, even coming out of an op and the haze of pain, that you could ever be where he wasn't. You think, no matter how terrible it seemed, that it was meant to happen this way. The stabbing and scarring that would no doubt end up on your back might have been the best thing to ever happen to you.

“Robby,” you whispered.

He must have heard something in your voice as he slowly stood and hunched over you, a hand lying on the top of your head.

His eyes were watering with tears.

You could remember faint images of this happening before, as you were slowly lulled to sleep by drugs. His hand combing back your hair felt like it had always been doing it. Like you'd always woken to him.

“Did you kiss me?” You didn't know where the memory came from, or even if it was a memory. It could've been a dream.

To his credit Robby didn't startle or flinch. He slowly nodded, leaving room for objection. He leaned over close to you, another hand cradling your cheek. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

Robby inhaled sharply. “I wanted to. I wanted to kiss you months before I did. I wanted to kiss you last week and two minutes ago when you woke. I wanted to kiss you covered in blood and... I want to kiss you now.”

You smiled and it brought you no pain. “If my back wasn't in pain I'd be kissing you right now,” you chuckled and then the pain came.

Robby leant down to you, his eyes searching yours. Close enough you could see what was in his eyes, what he'd been hiding. Warmth. Admiration.

His large nose brushed yours as he kissed you slow with no rush of need. His hand was soft as he angled you so he could explore every line and curve if your lip.

Your own hand slowly wound up, around his head, stroking the back of his hair and resting there. He didn't mind the oxygen tube or that she couldn't reach up to meet him. In fact he kissed her like he'd planned it like this a hundred times.

When there was an alarming beep from the machines Robby pulled away quick, studdying them.

“It's just my heartrate,” you said. “Might have been beating a little faster there.”

He agreed but seemed solemn to do so.

You watched the crease between his brows appear again. “You know, if I knew I just needed to be stabbed to have you kiss me again I'd have-”

“Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”

For the sake of his nerves, you didn't.

“You know if I'd have known that it was just gonna take me getting stabbed for you to sell that motorbike, I'd have got stabbed a lot sooner,” you said teasingly as Robby pulled into his new designated parking space outside the ED.

It had been a month since the incident but you were still reaping the small benefits that came with it. Like Robby insisting you stay with him to get the best care, like him getting rid of his motorbike to get a better car that was more comfortable on your back.

Like having so much time with him.

Mornings where he dedicated time in messaging the sore spots of your back and spreading an oil that was going to help the scaring. Like the dinner times when you read him a recipe that he never followed to the t. Like the kisses you stole in the night when he'd watch you and kiss you without straining to go forward.

Robby parked the car and turned off the engine. “If I had a dollar every time you said that,” he grumbled, picking up his bag and exiting.

You were still moving slower, still kept a crutch with you to keep weight off your back. You were coming back to work with a much lighter work load and you were sure Robby would be glued to your side all day like he practically had the month you'd took to recover.

Even before you could open the door Robby was there doing it for you, your own bag in his hand.

“You think anyone's gonna want to see the cool scars I've got, they kind of look like stars,” you said as Robby stayed close by your side, walking in with you.

“You sent them all pictures,” he said, mildly irritated. You and everyone around you seemed to try to crack jokes about the thing. He felt sometimes he was the only one who saw the near death wound for what it was.

“Excuse me- most of them asked for pictures.”

“Completely inappropriate.”

A few ambulance workers saw you, greeting you with smiles you returned while Robby waited next to you, holding up a polite hand in greeting.

It dropped, grazed yours and picked it up, holding on as the two of you walked in.

Usually Robby liked to walk in through triage, get a feel of what was happening but he wasn't risking that many foreign bodies next to you even though they caught David Brown and he was being charged.

Robby had something to live for, had something to protect. Nothing was happening to it. To you.

“It's good to have you back,” said Lupe as the two of you passed her at the door.

“Do you think that was a pun?” you uttered to him, rewarded with the smallest tint of his lips as he pushed open the door.

Loud clapping greeted you with some cheap, paper, party poppers when you walked in. Thee was cheering to and a large banner was hooked up, saying 'welcome home!'.

A place that could have held such terrible memories was brightened up as you jumped from one smiling face, to another.

Next to you, Robby stepped back, blending into the admiring crowd and started to clap too with something more than fondness in his smile. Love. A word that had woven its way into your vocab since moving in with him to get help for your wounds.

A word that summed up so much of what you had.

“You did this for me?” you asked.

“It was all Robby's idea,” said Jack, leading the cheering.

You didn't have to even move. Like he knew what you wanted Robby stepped over to you and kissed you. He always kept his lips irritatingly light, encouraging you to stretch out muscles in your back to join meet him.

You grinned against his lips. “I should be stabbed more often.”

You lean down to swallow his moans, your hips rolling in a grinding rhythm. He stretches you to the point of aching, hitting your cervix with a blunt force that makes your vision swim.

"So deep," you gasp against his lips, knuckles white as you grip his hair. "You’re stretching me so wide, Si."

His eyes flutter open, those dark brown depths looking blown out and bloodshot with pure lust. "Don't deserve this," he rasps. "Don't deserve to be inside you."

You sit back, tilting your pelvis, and he hisses through his teeth. His hands slide from your hips to your inner thighs, forcing them even wider so he can watch the way your wet heat swallows him whole. The new angle has him rubbing hard against your front wall, making you cry out as the friction nears a burn.

“Simon, yes, right there," you pant, slamming your weight down onto him.

His grip tightens, gloved thumbs pressing into your soft flesh. "Fuck, look at you. Love watching you take it. Love how much of a mess you’re making of my gear."

Suddenly, his left hand leaves your thigh, snatching your right hand from his shoulder. He drags your hand to his face, his tongue darting out to lick the gold of your wedding ring before he shoves your finger deep into his mouth. The sight of your wedding band disappearing past his lips, the feeling of his hot, wet tongue swirling around the metal while he is buried inside you, is so filthy it makes your walls seize.

"Mmm— Simon, baby," you choke out, your pussy clenching like a vice around his cock.

He releases your finger with a wet, suctioning pop, his eyes locked on yours. "Love seeing my ring on you," he growls, his Manchester accent thick and guttural. "Reminds me you are mine to fuck. Reminds me I own this."

Your legs are shaking, your muscles giving out. Simon feels the tremor and reacts instantly, his hands locking onto your waist as he takes over the pace, thrusting up with violent, powerful lunges of his hips.

"Fuck me empty, baby," he pleads, his voice breaking. "Take every drop. Don't leave me with anything. My wife. My fucking wife."

He hits you so deep it feels like he is trying to merge with you. You are so slick now that your combined fluids are streaming down his length, soaking into his tactical pants and staining the sheets beneath his ass.

"Si, I am gonna, I am close," you warn, bracing your hands against his chest as he hammers into you.

"Come for me, love," he commands, his fingers bruising your hips as he holds you in place for the impact. "Squeeze me. Show me how much you missed having this cock inside you."

The words push you over. Your orgasm hits, your internal muscles clamping down and milking him rhythmically. The sensation is too much. Simon lets out a low, animalistic snarl, his hips snapping up one last time as he bottoms out inside you.

You feel the high-pressure rush of his cum filling you, an endless, hot flood that immediately begins to overflow and drip down his thighs.

While he is still pulsing and twitching inside you, he grabs your hand again, dragging your ring finger back into his mouth. He sucks on the metal aggressively, his tongue dancing over the gold while his cock continues to throb deep in your gut. The dual stimulation of being filled and being tasted prolongs the climax until you are sobbing.

When you finally collapse against his chest, his arms wrap around you like a cage. His cock stays buried, softening slowly, but he refuses to pull out.

"Best fucking welcome home I have ever had," he mutters into your hair, his lungs burning.

You manage a weak, breathless laugh, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. "Missed you too, Si. So fucking much."

He presses a hard kiss to your temple, his hands stroking your back, mapping out the skin he has missed. "Never leaving you this long again," he vows. "I am staying right here. Right inside you."

As you lie there, feeling his hot cum slowly leaking out of you and onto the bed, his wedding ring still warm from his mouth, you know he means it. You are the only thing Simon Riley ever comes home for.