robby's ex wife

Michael Robinavitch

Ex-husband robby

The jugular, series - the jugular (4.6 k) - chapter 2 (2.5 k) - chapter 3 (2.9 k)

ficlets oxytocin (800)

Jack Abbot

You hadn’t spoken much since the date, so the moment you were paged to the ED, your heart threatened to jump out of your chest. You still walked into the seventh circle of hell willingly. 

Dragging your feet, you reached the hub and asked for the patient. Perlah and Princess eyed you up and down, their brows furrowed as they muttered the bed number. That was your tell: the entire ED knew you had turned down their beloved Chief. 

You thanked them with a practiced smile and hurried your step. 

“Hello, Miss Smith.” You pulled up her chart on your iPad, noting the vitals scrolling on the monitor above her bed. She already had an IV, and the monitor hummed with a steady, rhythmic beep. “There must be something wrong with the system—it says you don’t have any medical records.” You joked, meeting her eyes. 

She didn’t grant you an answer. And through her silence you understood her fear.

You scanned her quickly. She was young, not wearing makeup, hair long and without any visible tincture. She was wearing a simple white dress that reached her ankles, but it was the bruising on her wrists that caught your attention. Her eyes were wide, darting everywhere but your face. Everything about her screamed cult. 

You softened your expression. “Well, let’s start with the basics. How old are you?” 

“22” 

You sighed. She was an adult; she could walk out whenever she wanted. “Do you know how many weeks you’re in?” you asked, gesturing to her pregnancy bump. 

“I don’t know. Eight months, maybe?”

“And what brings you in today, Miss Smith?”  You masked your concerns with a kind smile. 

“Lucy is ok. My head’s been hurting a while.” She started, her voice shy. “My sight’s blurring.”

“Okay.” You pulled the curtain for privacy and prepped the ultrasound. “I’m going to do an ultrasound to make sure the baby is doing well. Is that alright?” 

“Is it going to hurt?” She trembled.

“No, it won’t.” You pulled up a stool, explaining the process. “The gel will feel cold, but that’s it.”

She nodded with a shy smile. You gave her a coat and stepped out of the curtain to give her privacy.

Feeling like you were in enemy territory, you chose to stay rooted to the spot, keeping guard on Lucy. 

Your eyes caught with Robby, who was talking with some man near the central hub. He saw you and his head leaned to the side, and your heart chose to interpret it as a peace offering. 

Before you could catch up, he was walking towards you along with the man he was talking with and your blood went down to your ankles. No matter how much time passed, you still felt brand new every time he looked at you.

“Hi” you muttered, your cheeks flushing. 

“Hello, doctor” He began, his voice clipped and professional. “This is Robert Boone, the father of that woman's child. He wants to know the status.” 

“Hello” you smiled at the man, desperately trying to suppress the disappointment. “I haven’t started the check up yet, you can join us.” 

“That’s actually the problem. Our religion does not allow medical attention.” The man said, solemnly. 

Your brows creased. “Well, I just explained the process to her and she agreed, so why don’t you wait here?”

“She has no agency to decide for herself” 

Robby took a little step forward as the man raised his voice at you. He sure felt the tension of the conversation rising and knew how you felt about those topics.

“She is twenty-two.” You spat.

“She is a woman” The man’s lips curled in disgust. 

You saw red. You knew, deep in your bones, that was where he was going since he said ‘she had no agency’ but listening to him utter the words made you lose every single ounce of reasonableness in your body. 

“Get the fuck out of here!” you muttered, inching closer to the man.

“You’re not telling me what to do!” He stepped back, reaching for the curtain and yanking it open to reveal your patient, who was now teary-eyed and trembling. “Get dressed, we’re leaving.” 

Her eyes locked onto yours.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, moving to her bedside.

Her eyes darted to Robert, her hands shaking.

“Lucy, look at me. He can be escorted out on your word.”

You saw how her eyes darted back and her body went rigid, starting to shake uncontrollably. The monitors announced her heart rate rising.

“SHIT” your hands were on her, trying to move her, “Michael” you called his name out of impulse. Fear and instinct driving you to that familiar place where you knew he would never let you down: an emergency.

He was behind you in a second. “She’s seizing,” he barked, moving her to her side and firing orders at the nursing staff. 

“Hey, don’t get her any meds” Robert called. 

You spun around, brows creased. “Are you her husband?” you demanded, your voice sharper than usual.

“No,” he muttered.

“Then you have no agency” you barked, turning your back on him to focus on the patient.

Everything turned to a blur. A stinging pain exploded on the side of your face. The force sent you reeling, your body crashing against the equipment. You squeezed your eyes shut for a heartbeat, and then you were yanked flush against a solid chest, an arm wrapping securely around your waist. You tilted your chin back to see Robby, eyes filled with danger, his free arm extended protectively.

In front of you, Robert was on the floor, restrained by Donnie, screaming something you couldn’t process.

The chaos blurred. You saw Ahmad drag the man away, and then Robby’s arms were circling you, steering you firmly out of the room.

“Lucy,” you kept repeating, but Robby didn’t stop. You heard the team rushing into the space you’d just left, and you could only hope she would make it.

Robby guided you to a private room, shut the door, and sat you on the bed. Your ears were buzzing. You could see his mouth moving, his eyes focused on you, but the sound was muffled.

Then, his hand was cupping your cheek, his brows creased in concern. “Baby?”

You let out a shuddering breath. “Wh—what was that?”

Robby’s head shook sideways. “Are you ok? Let me check you out.” He pulled at your scrub top and you allowed him to take it off. 

His fingers trailed your sternum and you flinched.

“You hit your chest against the trolley. I’m going to send you some x-rays to make sure there are no fractured ribs.” 

You nodded. “I don’t think so.” Your fingers followed his, tapping your bones to check for any pain.

Then he pulled out the stethoscope from around his neck and heard your breathing.

“Breathe for me.” He commanded. 

And you knew it was a procedure. A regular command from a doctor. But still, you smiled a shy curve.

“Always” you muttered.

His hands then went to your face, examining your cheek. It still was stinging but you doubted it would bruise at all. 

His eyes climbed to yours, a glint in them. “You seem alright, medically speaking.” Robby sat next to you at the bed. “How do you feel?” 

You shrugged. “Angry. Stupid. Vulnerable.” 

“You’re not stupid. And you have all the right to be angry. You were assaulted.”

You sighed. “You’re still collecting my first times, uh?” You joked and he guided your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on them.

It had been a recurring joke during your relationship. He had been your first serious relationship and you had been his. And because you didn’t have much first times left to collect, then everything turn into first time again: the first time you had kissed in the elevator; the first time he had ever said ‘I love you’ during sex; the first time you had cried for an orgasm; the first time you (both) had a relationship longer than a year; the first time he had ever proposed marriage and so on.

“Wanna go talk to the cops?” He asked with husky voice.

“I didn’t even register what happened.”

“That fucking idiot slapped you and said you shouldn’t even be talking to him” 

You huffed. “I’m so going to sue him.” you smiled, fighting every impulse to lay your head on his shoulder.

Robby smiled, “yeah, you are.”

Your eyes darted to your lap, where Robby had taken your hands into his own. You noticed his knuckles were raw and red.

“Did you punch him?”

“Of course.”

Ignoring every restraint you’d tried to place on your heart, you leaned in, resting your head against his chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, anchoring you.

“I’m not happy you punched him, because it will bring you trouble. But I am glad you were there to–I don’t know–take care of me.” Your hands wrapped around his waist as you snuggled closer. 

“Always.” 

He kissed your forehead and with that, all your concerns vanished.

The doorbell rang at 7:50, and Jack was already eager on the other side. You opened the door while still fumbling with your earrings, your feet bare.

The kids erupted in shrieks, swarming him before tackling each other in a wrestling match on the sofa. You took the opportunity to retreat upstairs to finish getting ready. Moments later, a fresh round of excited screaming echoed through the house; you guessed their father had finally arrived.

When you came back downstairs, the four of them were cackling. Mila let out an occasional shriek of delight every time her father tossed her into the air, only to catch her securely a second later.

“Ready,” you announced. All sets of eyes landed on you.

Robby’s mouth dropped open; he quickly maneuvered Mila onto the cushions and stood up, looking momentarily awkward.

“Where are we going?” Isaac asked, already hopping to his feet.

“Mom and Dad are going out,” you said. “You guys are staying here with Uncle Jack.”

Mila’s eyes widened, a flicker of genuine heartbreak passing through them.

“It will only be for a while, and you’re going to have so much fun!” You smoothed her hair back tenderly.

“We no go?” she asked, already deploying the master-level puppy dog eyes she’d clearly inherited from her father.

“You’re breaking my heart, Mimi,” Jack pouted, scooping her into his arms and causing her to shriek with laughter.

“Goodbye, kids. Be good,” Robby said, hurrying his steps and ushering you out the door before they could change their minds.

Once you were outside and hidden by the privacy of your own porch, he turned to you with a wide grin. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks,” you replied. “You too.” You closed the space between you to deliver a soft peck to his lips.

.

.

The hum of the engine was the only sound in the car for the first few blocks. Robby kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the center console, his thumb occasionally brushing against your wrist.

“They’re going to be fine,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, reassuring register he used when he needed to convince. “Jack has them wrapped around his little finger. They won’t even remember we exist.”

You laughed, shifting in your seat to get a better look at him. In the moonlight filtering through the windshield, the formal shirt he’d insisted on wearing looked sharp, and you felt a familiar, fluttery surge of nerves. “I know. I just… I feel so out of myself right now. It feels like it’s been ages since I did this.”

Robby pulled up to a red light and finally turned his head, his gaze lingering on your face in a way that made your breath catch. “Date? I recall some dates you had a few months ago.”

You grinned, feeling the warmth on your cheeks. “You’re one to talk.” 

He scoffed. “I wasn’t.” 

“Touchy subject?”

“Uh-huh” 

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I do.” The light turned green and the car moved again. The hum of the radio avoiding an uncomfortable silence. “I haven’t felt like this since our first date.” 

“Oh, shut up” you teased, rolling your eyes.

“What?” A smile formed on his lips, “I was nervous.”

“Yeah, right.” 

“I was!” 

You looked at him with your all-knowing glare, hinting that you didn’t buy it but also amused.

“I knew you were the love of my life by then.” His eyes caught yours briefly before returning to the road. “That’s why I was nervous.” 

You reached out and grabbed his free hand with both of yours. “Now you know you're mine too. Nothing to be nervous about.”

.

.

.

The evening dissolved into laughter and the way his big brown eyes stared at you like you held all the answers to the universe.

After dinner he took you to a vantage point of the bridge. There was a band playing and older couples dancing. 

“May I have a dance?” 

You bit your lip, a futile attempt to hide the dorky smile blooming across your face. Robby guided you onto the makeshift dance floor. His hands settled on your hips, and you followed his lead; an easy step that felt as natural as your relationship.

“Baby” he started, his voice coarse, thin at the edges. “I wanted to tell you something tonight.”

You looked up at him, a gentle nod indicating him to continue.

“I want you back” 

Your brows rose on your forehead. “What a surprise” you joked.

He scoffed, holding you closer, “I mean it.” 

“We are back, Robby, I mean–”

“Marry me” he whispered, his eyes soft. It wasn’t a proposal, not really, it was a plea. “Again”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. 

“Please”  he breathed, his warm exhale ghosting over your lips.  

“Misha–”

“Don’t Misha me, just say yes.” His hands climbed up your back. He no longer was holding you for a dance, he was desperately clinging to you.

“Can’t you see it?” You asked, but didn’t wait for an answer, your eyes filling with tears. Your hand climbed to his face, caressing his beard softly. “This is only working because you’re trying to get me back. Once it becomes real everything will go back to how it was.” Your voice nearly broke. 

“No” he pleaded, his head shaking.

“Yes, Robby. And you know it.” A tear slipped and he didn’t care to catch it, he was still holding you like you were about to vanish.

His head leaned closer to you, his forehead against yours and eyes closed. “I’m better baby, I am, I swear.”

“I know” you pushed your chin upward to lay a peck on his lips. “You are.” 

“Then, please” 

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “Why did you come back from sabbatical?” 

He swallowed, his throat working. “Because I needed to get you back.” 

You nodded, tears tracking freely down your cheeks. “Exactly. Chasing me is what keeps you going, Robby.”

“You keep me going,” he countered, his voice thick with denial, his eyes heavy and wet. “Our family keeps me going.”

“Robby,” you scoffed, a bitter edge to your voice. “We used to see you only on your days off.”

“I’m different now.”

“You’re one tantrum away from snapping back,” you spat.

“No.” He shook his head, a frantic motion. “I’ve worked so hard for this—”

“I know, baby. I know you have.” You softened, your hands cupping his face as you peppered his skin with desperate, fluttering kisses.

“You’d really rather keep the kids wondering what the hell is going on between us than have things go back to normal?” His anger began to brew—a thin, powerful veil he kept drawn over his true feelings. You’d managed to keep him at bay before, and you refused to give in now, even as he fought to find his way back.

“Normal?” You countered, your voice steady despite the ache. “Robby, they see you more now than they ever did when we actually lived together.”

“They cry everytime I leave!”

“I rather have them crying because you leave than because you’re yelling.”

“You know I’m different now.” It was a harsh accusation. He believed he had proven himself, but your heart had already shattered enough in the past; you couldn't risk it breaking again. “Please.”

“Don’t make this harder than it is,” you pleaded. “I’m telling you, you aren’t ready. We aren’t ready.”

“I’m telling you,” he insisted, his gaze hardening into something sharp and certain. “I need things to be the way they were before.”

“I don’t.” You pulled back, putting distance between you. “Robby, you used to berate me at every turn. On your good days, you wouldn’t even speak to me. I don’t want things to go back to the way they were.”

“They won’t.” He nodded, his eyes watery and his voice creaking. “Just—please—believe me.”

“I can’t risk it, Misha. I can’t do it again.” You hiccuped. “I can’t let you hurt me again, I can’t take it.”

“Baby” he kissed both your cheeks, a tender attempt to stop your crying. “I won’t I promise”

“I love you too much to risk it”

“Then love me less.” It was a desperate request, you knew it. But the way he phrased it, the energy in his voice, the raw need made it sound like an order. You were immune to those anyway. “I’ll earn the rest.”

“I can’t.” Your hand went to the back of his head, drawing circles in his nape. “I’ve tried.”

His forehead fell on your shoulder.

Through the fabric of your dress you felt his tears fall into your skin until the song ended.

Santos was the first to notice. Of course she was. Being the hyper-alert, defensive, and perpetually guarded kid she was, she didn’t blink when Dr. Robby muttered, “If only I were that lucky,” right after you’d grunted, “Oh, fuck me,” while tossing your gloves into the trash. A patient had just refused treatment, claiming it was “toxic” to check the baby with an ultrasound, and your frustration had been palpable.

But that was only the first of many incidents.

There was the time you had backed into him while maneuvering a gurney toward the elevators, and Robby’s hands had instinctively gone to your waist to stabilize you. When you’d muttered a “sorry,” he’d smirked at you with a suggestive, “Anytime.”

Then there was the emergency consult. Your hair was down, loose over your shoulders, and while you attended to the patient, Robby reached out and softly pulled your hair back with a rubber band. When you’d asked, “What are you doing?” he’d simply replied, “Your hair?” You had scoffed, rolled your eyes, and turned to him, spitting out for him only, “Imagining something else, Dr. Robinavitch?” Robby had laughed, and you had turned back to the patient. Your hair was now tied in a low ponytail.

You had shot Santos a glare that she interpreted as, “Save yourself.”

Trinity also knew that Robby didn’t touch anyone. She’d gathered he didn’t like being touched, either. Whenever he needed her, he’d gesture with his fingers to gain her attention; if he was guiding her somewhere, his hand would ghost near her shoulder, but he never actually made contact. Yet with you, his hands were on you all. The. Time. And you didn’t seem to register it anymore. Trinity had seen you shrug his hand off your shoulder once, and that was enough for her to realize that all of Robby’s attention was unwanted. Her heart broke in that specific way it does when you lose a mentor to misogyny.

Without further ado, Trinity sighed, mourning the loss of the man she had once viewed as a father figure, now reduced to just another “me-too” creep.

.

Then it was Javadi. She had noticed the way Robby’s eyes softened when you were around; how his usual frown disappeared, and how, sometimes, he almost smiled. She noticed how he maneuvered around you to hand you whatever you needed, how he reached for the high shelves so you wouldn’t have to stand on your tiptoes, and how he’d open stubborn vials for you.

She had even witnessed him pulling out a chair for you to sit, and how you seemed so accustomed to it that you simply muttered a thanks and kept on typing your notes.

Once, you walked up to the Nurses' Hub with your car keys and a new pack of batteries. As you fumbled to open the casing, Robby took the key from your hands and did it himself. He swapped the battery, slipped the used one into his pocket, saying he’d take it to the recycling bin, and handed it back. You had smiled at him, reattached your keys to your lanyard, and walked straight toward the patient he had been discussing with you.

Javadi was also acutely aware that Dr. Robby was tall and had a long stride; she usually found herself jogging to keep up with him, but with you, he always slowed to your pace. He would stare at you while you spoke, never daring to make a move without watching you. So much so that he looked almost clumsy whenever your eyes were on him.

Victoria looked at the evidence and concluded that Dr. Robby had a massive crush on you. And, to her, it looked like you certainly enjoyed the attention.

.

Whitaker had not been paying that much attention. He was too busy trying not to fuck up. The first time he heard Dr. Robby call you “honey” in the Trauma Room he believed to have misheard.

The second time it was you were leaving an exam room, taking off your gloves and discussing the treatment plan with Robby, when he had said “Thanks sweetheart.” And left. You went on your way to the elevators without addressing him. But also without lashing out. Dennis’ brows creased.

The third one, after a successful save, Robby had all but chanted “great job, baby” as he smiled at you with the hazy look of adrenaline rush. You muttered “Thank you, doctor Robby” to him with a clipped smile and that was enough for Dennis to feel the interaction had been wrong.

That day he had gone to Trinity and told her what he had heard. She looked at him with those angry blue eyes and pulled him to the ambulance bay.

“I noticed too.” She spat in that angry voice she used when she was hurt. “Should we say something?” 

“Say something about what?” Javadi asked, who had apparently followed them outside. 

Santos simply huffed and Dennis explained all the inappropriate behavior they have seen from Doctor Robby to one of the OB-GYN attendings. And that yes, it was only towards her but that it was still sexual harassment.

“She doesn't really seem to mind?” Dennis said, still uncertain of what he was saying, or defending. 

“Do you think she is going to report the Chief of Emergency Medicine?” Santos asked, rolling her eyes. 

“Guys” Victoria chimed in, laughing, “He obviously just has a crush with her. He is all acts of service when she’s around!” 

“Yeah and he also touches her inappropriately.” Trinity argued.

“And calls her baby” Dennis muttered, disappointed.

“And you know what? Everyone knows!” Trinity’s voice was rising. Her anger palpable. “They all know, hear it, see it and they just laugh. Dana scoffs and shakes her head. Abbot even encourages him!!” She took a deep breath. “We should talk to him” 

“Talk with who?” 

Robby stood nearby, head tilted, looking slightly concerned by the intense, secret meeting his interns were holding. They all froze, eyes widening in fear. He clearly understood the subject of the conversation was himself. 

“What’s wrong?” Robby pressed. 

They exchanged glances, but his gaze was focused on Santos, who seemed to be the leader of the rebellion.

“We think–” Santos began.

“I don’t” Javadi scoffed, raising both palms as if to physically distance herself from the mess.

Robby placed his hands on his hips and looked down at them. “Yes?” 

“Well, Huckleberry and I think that you’re harassing another attending”

Robby’s eyes could’ve dropped out of his eyelids. He felt to had been physically pushed back. “What?” He asked. And not because he hadn’t understand the statement, but because he didn’t understand anything about it. 

Then Santos said your name, raising her chin in that solemn way she does when she is certain of something. And Robby laughed. He just laughed. The stress he had felt seconds ago vanished into laughter. 

“It is not funny, Doctor Robby.” Santos insisted, but he kept laughing. “You’re abusing your power as Chief to harass her knowing she won’t report you to the board.” 

“Hold on” Robby wiped a stray tear of laughter from his cheek, “you think she needs the board to put me in place?” 

Trinity’s mouth opened. Then closed again.

“We just wanted to let you know we are not comfortable with that behavior.” Dennis gathered all the bravado in his body to mutter that sentence. 

Robby’s heart softened, his eyes rolled fondly. “She’s my ex-wife. I am not harassing her, I am trying to win her back.” 

A collective “ohh” echoed in the ambulance bay. The three of them stared at him puzzled. Trinity was still not buying it. Javadi was shocked, like she didn’t believe he was your ex-husband. And Dennis seemed relieved. 

“Thank you for your concerns. Get back to work.” Robby ordered. He watched them scramble back into the ED and followed them inside, only to find you walking in at the same moment. 

“Hey, honey.” He greeted, for your ears only, he hoped. “My interns just did an intervention on me” 

You stopped and looked up at him, concerned. “What about?” 

“They think I am sexually harassing you.” 

You laughed.

“That I am abusing my power as Chief to harass you knowing you won’t report me.” 

“Mmmm” you tapped a finger to your chin, “perhaps I should report you” 

Robby’s face fell. But you continued. 

“Loosing your license might be the only way to stop you from working your ass to death.” 

He let out a full, unguarded laugh. “Yeah? And what would I do without a job?” 

You offered him a smile; a cruel, calculating curve of your lips. “Be a trophy husband, of course.”

You winked and walked into the ED.