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Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Yeah we definitely need a night shift spin off cause the whole time I’m watching this episode I’m like yeah Robby it sad that your sad but anyways where my baby Jack idc about this bike 😭
Something about a young stable reader who has a family similar to the Cody’s…first blurb incoming be nice pls (reader is gender neutral!)
•Misspellings lol
They grew up around crazy shit, constant drugs, violence and instead of falling down that path they make a promise to themselves to ‘do better’. They go to medical school, work their ass off and work at a hospital. They still stay with their family just are uninvolved, until one night their brother practically breaks down their door.
He tells them that a friend of theirs needs help, he’s been shot and needs help fast. Running into the living room with him they spot one of the Cody brothers, Craig, lying on their living room floor. Looking around they see the others, Smurf and specifically.. Pope.
Ignoring the instant stares, they get to work. After a couple hours they had somehow gotten him stable enough. Getting the bullet out without the accompanying severe infection lingering like the last time he was shot. The others had left, Deran taking off once he saw they had it under control, Baz doing fuck all and Smurf talking in another room with her mother.
Except Pope.. he stayed and watched them work, so methodically. Everything preplanned in their head and making it look so simple. Snapping off the gloves and throwing them away they bent down to zip up their work bag and tools they had used. The staring of the man finally off-putting them off enough to say something.
“Ya know usually people say ‘thank you’ after I save their family members life, hug me.. ask questions about the procedure.. Can’t say I’ve ever had a silent staring contest.” A soft smirk dances on their lips, making eye contact with Pope.
He of course says nothing. Eyes pouring into their soul with every second that passes by, noticing how they try to keep the same stare just.. a lot less.. pope. Shaking their head with a soft chuckle they look back to their bag. “Guess I lose.”
Standing up now at the same height as Pope, giving him one more look over before smiling at him. “Just try and make sure he takes those antibiotics I told Smurf about. It’ll keep infections out and helps with not making a trip back here.” With that they walk back to their room, yawning on their way with a roll of their neck.
Pope just continued to stare, head tilting slightly as the door shuts behind them. He didn’t know what to say or do at this point but he knew one thing. Their skills were impressive, especially with what limited gear they had. He needed to see it in action again… maybe Craig should get shot at more.
Synopsis: On one of your rare days off from PTMC, you end up at a dimly lit bar with Trinity and Dennis, trying to shake off the weight of the hospital while Jack — who you’ve been secretly seeing for months — covers a shift for someone else and stays late, his messages lighting up your phone just enough to pull your attention away. Your friends quickly pick up on it — the smiles, the constant glances, the way you hover over every notification — and what starts as casual teasing turns into full-blown interrogation as they try to figure out who has you so distracted.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: Established relationship, workplace relationship, mentions of medical setting, power imbalance (attending/resident), age gap, secret relationship, coworkers to lovers, mentions of alcohol, suggestive dialogue
It’s a rare thing: all three of you off at the same time.
No one’s checking the clock. No one’s half-listening while trying to catch up on charting. For once, it’s just noise, dim lighting, and cheap drinks instead of fluorescent bulbs and exhaustion pressed into your bones.
You’d almost forgotten what that felt like after nearly two years at PTMC.
Currently, Trinity is halfway through retelling the events of her ‘date’ with Yolanda — something about how one of them wanted to keep it casual, and how it ended in a fight that somehow turned into a hot-and-heavy make-out session — while Dennis listens quietly beside her, nursing his drink and nodding along.
You try to focus. You really do. But your phone keeps buzzing against the table.
Not constantly, just enough to be obnoxious.
You flip it over, quickly glancing at the screen.
Jack: Still at the hospital. Leaving in ten.
Your lips press together, something soft tugging at the corners before you can stop it.
“You’re doing it again.”
You look up too fast. “Doing what?”
“That,” she says and points a finger at you.
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“That little—” she gestures vaguely at your face “—thing you do when you look at your phone.”
“I don’t do a thing.”
“Yeah, you do,” Dennis chimes in immediately. “You’ve been doing it all night.”
“I have not.”
“Yes you have,” he insists. “You keep checking it, and then you go all—” he makes a face that’s supposed to mimic yours but fails miserably “—like that.”
“That is not what I look like.”
“It kind of is,” Trinity says.
You huff, reaching for your drink just to have something to do. “It’s just work stuff.”
Trinity raises an eyebrow. “Since when does work make you smile?”
Your mouth opens, ready with a response — but your phone buzzes again, cutting you off.
All three of you glance down this time. You grab it before they can even blink.
“Okay,” Dennis says slowly, setting his drink down. “Why are you being so secretive?”
“I’m not.”
Dennis cocked his head, an exasperated expression on his face. “You practically dove on your phone.”
“I did not dive.”
“You dove.”
“I reached.”
“You lunged.”
“I—” You stop, glaring at him. “Whatever.”
Trinity leans forward, resting her chin in her hand, eyes sharp with interest. “Who are you texting?”
“No one.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It’s not,” you huff.
“It’s such a lie,” Dennis says, grinning now. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying,” you say as you shake your head. “Can you guys not turn this into something?”
“Why?” Trinity leans in a little more. “You in a secret relationship or something?”
“I—” Your mouth opens, then closes again as you glance away.
Both Trinity’s and Dennis’s faces shift into realization, their eyebrows lifting.
“Oh,” Trinity breathes.
“No,” you say immediately.
“Oh my god,” Dennis echoes, sitting up straighter. “There is a secret someone.”
“There is not—”
“Then let me see your phone,” Trinity teases.
“No.” Your response was too fast and too sharp for someone not to be hiding something.
Silence drops over the table. Trinity covers her mouth as laughter threatens to fall. Dennis just stares at you.
You press your lips together, glancing between them.
“Fine,” you say in surrender. “There is someone.”
“How long?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Oh yes it does,” Trinity says. “Who is it?”
“Do we know him?” Dennis asks.
You hesitate just a moment too long.
Dennis slaps the table. “Oh my god — it’s someone we know!”
You groan, dragging your hands over your face. “You guys are insufferable.”
“And you’re deflecting,” Trinity says.
“I’m not deflecting.”
“Yeah you are.”
“I just—” you stop, exhaling. “It’s not important.”
“Then say who it is.”
You shake your head. “You’re going to make it a big deal.”
“We’re absolutely going to make it a big deal,” Dennis says. “That’s the whole point.”
You let out a quiet breath through your nose, shoulders sinking as you lean back into the worn wood of your chair. The music in the small bar suddenly felt too loud and the air felt too warm.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” you mutter.
“Way too late now,” Dennis adds.
Your phone buzzes in your hand jst loud enough to cut through the conversation for a split second.
You don’t look down, already knowing who the notification is from. But both Trinity and Dennis do. Their eyes drop to the screen as it lights up briefly, then flick back up to you.
Trinity leans back slightly, studying you now instead of whatever she was saying before, her head tilting just a little.
“…So,” she says slowly, “this special someone — are they from work?”
“Yeah…” You say with a sigh, already knowing there’s no getting out of this.
“Same department?” she asks.
You hesitate briefly. It’s small and barely there but it’s enough for Trinity to figure out an answer.
“Oh my god,” her eyebrows shoot up. “They’re in our department.”
“No he’s not,” you say, but there’s no conviction behind it.
“Yes,” she says immediately, sitting up straighter. “You hesitated.”
“I was thinking.”
“You don’t think when the answer is no,” Dennis says, pointing at you. “You just say no.”
You exhale, dragging a hand through your hair. “You guys are so annoying.”
“And you’re bad at lying,” Trinity shoots back. Then, more focused, “Okay — same department… nights or days?”
“…Nights,” you say.
Dennis lets out a quiet “ohhh,” leaning back like something just clicked into place. “That narrows it down.”
“It doesn’t narrow anything,” you say quickly.
“It narrows it a lot,” Trinity counters, already thinking. “Okay, nights…”
She starts listing names, half to herself, half to you.
“Is it Shen?”
“No.”
“Mateo?” Trinity continues.
You shake your head. “Nope.”
“Okay… so who’s left?” Dennis asks.
Trinity’s fingers tap once against the table, then still. Something clicked into place as she studied your face a second too long.
“Trinity,” you warn.
“…No,” she says, her eyes widening. “There’s no way…”
Dennis frowns. “What?”
She lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head slowly. “Is it Abbot?” She asked.
Your mouth falls open, but the words snag somewhere in your throat, refusing to come out.
Dennis goes completely still beside you, like the air’s been knocked out of him. “…No way.”
You sink further into your chair as your hands come up to cover your face.
“Don’t,” you mumble into your palms.
“Oh my god,” Trinity breathes, half-laughing now. “Oh my god, it’s Abbot.”
You drag your hands down your face slowly, cheeks burning. “…Yeah.”
Dennis is staring at you like he’s trying to recalibrate. “You’re serious.”
“Yes, Dennis. I’m serious.”
“For how long?” he asks, still in shock.
“Only a few months.”
“A few months?” Trinity repeats, sitting back like she’s been hit.
“And you didn’t tell us?” Dennis adds.
“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you say, more defensive now.
“It is absolutely a big deal,” he says. “That’s… he’s your attending—”
“Not really,” you cut in quickly. “I don’t work nights so technically Robby’s my attending.”
“He’s so much older than you,” she says, leaning back and shaking her head, a disbelieving smile still stuck on her face.
You groan, dropping your head back. “Can we not do this?”
“We’re just saying—”
“Well, stop saying it.”
Dennis runs a hand over his face, still trying to process. “How did that even happen?”
You hesitate, then shrug a little. “It just… did. We worked a few shifts together, and then we started talking, and then—” you trail off, shoulders lifting slightly. “I don’t know. One thing led to another and then suddenly I was in his bed every night.”
“And you’re — what, dating?” Trinity asks.
“Yes,” you say, a little sharper than intended.
“Like, actually dating?” Dennis presses.
“Yeah.”
“Going out, spending time together, sleeping together, all that?”
“Yes,” you repeat, exasperated now.
Trinity leans forward again, studying you more carefully this time, like she’s trying to piece together a version of you she hasn’t seen before.
“You’re in love with him,” she says.
You freeze. “…I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
You look down at the table, lips pressing together as you try — and fail — not to smile just a little.
“Oh my god,” she says, pointing at you. “You’re so in love.”
“Stop,” you mutter, heat creeping back into your face.
“This explains everything,” she continues. “The phone, the weird little smiles at handoff, the fact that you’ve been, like—” she gestures vaguely “glowing lately.”
You make a face. “I am not glowing.”
“You are a little bit,” Dennis says.
“I hate both of you.”
“We know,” Trinity says easily.
There’s a brief moment of silence. Then her eyes narrow, something mischievous slipping in.
“…Okay, but be honest.”
“Don’t say anything weird,” you say immediately.
She grins. “Do you call him Daddy?”
You let out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “I mean… I wouldn’t not—”
As if on cue, warm hands settle on your shoulders.
“She only does when she’s trying to get something out of me.”
Everything around you stops. Your breath catches as your entire body goes still.
Slowly, you turn your head.
None other than Jack Abbot is right behind you. He looks exactly like he always does after a shift — tired, but in that steady, grounded way that never really dulls him. His hair’s slightly out of place, like he’s run a hand through it one too many times, sleeves pushed up just enough to show his forearms, his posture relaxed despite the weight of a full day still clinging to him.
There’s still that faint, familiar scent of antiseptic, but it’s mixed with something warmer now — something unmistakably him. And somehow, even after twelve hours on his feet, he still looks unfairly good.
Dennis makes a strangled noise beside you.
Trinity’s mouth drops open. “Oh my god,” she whispers.
You stare at him. “Why are you here?”
“Good to see you too baby,” he huffs a quiet laugh, thumbs brushing absentmindedly against your shoulders. “You weren’t answering your phone. Thought I’d come in and get you myself.”
“I was a little busy,” you mutter.
“Yeah,” he replies, glancing briefly at the table, clearly taking in the situation. “I can see that.”
Neither of your friends have moved. Dennis is still staring, wide-eyed. Trinity looks like she’s seconds away from either laughing again or interrogating you both on the spot.
Jack looks back down at you, expression softening just slightly.
“You ready to go?”
“Yes.” You don’t even hesitate.
You grab your bag quickly, sliding out of your chair before either of them can fully recover.
“Wait — no, hold on—” Trinity starts.
“We’re not done!” Dennis adds.
“Oh, we are absolutely done,” you shoot back, already backing away.
Jack’s hand shifts from your shoulders to your back as you move, steady and familiar.
“See you guys at handoff tomorrow?” he asks casually.
Neither of them responds. They’re still staring. Completely stunned. Trinity’s mouth is still slightly open, and Dennis looks like he hasn’t blinked in at least ten seconds.
You don’t even tell them goodbye. You just shake your head under your breath and let Jack guide you toward the door, the noise of the bar swallowing the moment as soon as it closes behind you.
Jack’s hand stays warm at your back as he leads you out into the cool night air, the noise of the bar fading behind you.
Neither of you says anything at first. You just walk.
His car isn’t far. He unlocks it, opens the passenger door like it’s second nature, and you slide in, still feeling the heat sitting high in your cheeks.
By the time he’s in the driver’s seat, the silence has shifted. It’s quieter now, but not awkward.
The engine hums to life.
You barely have a second to settle before—
“Daddy, huh? That’s what you’re gonna start calling me?” he asks, glancing at you, voice low and amused.
You turn your head slowly, staring at him. “You’re insufferable.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, pulling out of the lot. “You didn’t say no.”
Your face burns all over again as you look away, crossing your arms.
HOW TO DISAPPEAR
─── jack abbot & michael robinavitch
summary: robby makes you hate him as his last act of kindness before he leaves for his three-month sabbatical. but then he sees you getting close to jack, and it ruins all his plans. (3k)
characters: michael robinavitch / fem!reader, jack abbot / fem!reader, trinity santos in charting jail, dana evans, noelle hastings
contents: lovers to exes w robby, friends to lovers w jack, angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, implied age gap cw for medical inaccuracies bc i don't know what i'm talking about :D, and mentions of robby's suicidal tendencies
( NAVIGATION ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( AO3 )
Robby breaks up with you on a Friday, which you think is especially cruel, considering that every Friday since then has served only as a bitter reminder of the day he told you to leave.
Your relationship had been long in the dying, to be fair. You had stopped recognizing him some months ago — after he brought home that motorcycle, which brought a week’s worth of arguments in with it; and after you found out he made a habit of riding around without his helmet, which nearly gave you an aneurysm with how angry you got at him for it.
You found yourself more mad with him than you were without him, but you stuck around anyway, just torturing yourself with the hope that he’d change. That you would be enough to change for.
“Do you have any affection in your heart for me?” you’d raged from the other side of the kitchen table, burning as hot as your pretty red dress. “Any? At all?”
“Of course, I do!” Robby laughed as he gathered the empty plates, as if he found your anger a quite humorous thing. (It was, in truth, quite funny, because only he could plan a date night that turned into nothing but a total screaming match.)
“Then why do you keep doing this to me?” you’d asked, voice breaking as you blinked away burning tears. “You know I can’t stand that stupid motorcycle to begin with, but you know I hate when you don’t wear your helmet. It’s like you’re purposefully trying to piss me off!”
“Well, believe it or not, my life doesn’t revolve around you, honey,” Robby answered in a dry monotone as he dropped the silverware into the sink with a thunderous clang.
“Yeah,” you scoffed. “‘Cause it revolves around Noelle.”
“Oh, Noelle!” he laughed louder, turning to face you with a cynical sort of smile on his face. “That’s what this is about?”
“It’s about all of it, Robby!” you thundered. “But, yeah, you flaunting your old fling around at work in front of me doesn’t make it any better—”
“If you don’t like what I do…” he spat, voice even and coated in a layer of venom. “If you’re not happy here… Then feel free to leave. I won’t stop you.”
His words hung in the air for several long moments. They wrapped their cold hands around your neck and stole the breath from your lungs.
“If I go…” you’d told him, voice stern and slightly strangled. “If I walk out that door right now… I am not coming back.”
Robby only shrugged. “If that’s what you wanna do…” he trailed off and turned away, doing the dishes like you weren’t falling apart across the room.
So you left.
And he didn’t stop you.
Robby stuck to his word. And now you’re trying hard to stick to yours.
As the Friday evening draws near — marking five weeks since you walked out the door — you stand at the workstation to finish up your charting. You type slowly, while the rest of the day shift rushes around you to head home, because you have zero plans of returning to your empty apartment so soon. Not until you’ve totally tired yourself out, at least.
It was much easier to be at home that way, you found, when you were only ever there to eat and sleep. It meant never having to face how lonely you truly were without him.
“Are you busy tonight?” Santos wonders aloud as she plants herself at the computer across from yours.
You turn away from the screen for the first time in several minutes to flash the girl a quietly amused look. “You and Dr. Garcia are fighting again, I take it?”
“What?” Trinity scoffs, less than convincingly. “No! Why would… Why would you even ask that?”
“Because normally you’re busy with her,” you answer, partially distracted, as you continue click-clacking at the keyboard in front of you. “And if you’re asking me if I’m busy, it means Garcia isn’t coming over. Which also means Whitaker’s probably going out with Amy, and you just don’t wanna be alone.”
You glance up from your monitor once more, finding the girl scowling at you over the top of hers.
“Is that a fair assessment, would you say?” you quip with narrowed eyes.
“I was just gonna ask if you wanted to watch Drag Race and get wine drunk with me,” Trinity deadpans. “I didn’t need the psych consult.”
You scoff a tired laugh and turn away again. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m going out with the street team tonight— But you’re always welcome to tag along if you want.”
“And work outside of work?” she scoffs. “No, thank you…”
You tense when you feel a warm, wide hand brush along your lower back.
Your head whips over your shoulder to find Dr. Abbot sliding in behind you, placing a sticky note beside the keyboard on your desk. Cologne clings to the thin black t-shirt he wears, tucked into a pair of camo fatigues. He smells of tobacco and leather and sea salt. A dizzying concoction for a girl so strikingly touch-starved.
“Here’s Mr. Turner’s address,” the man tells you. “Or where he says he’s been hanging around recently, at least.”
Your eyes scan over the half-legible scrawl on the paper below, brows furrowing because it feels half-familiar to you. When you turn back to Abbot, you find him towering over you, much closer than you’d anticipated. “Isn’t that the overpass across town?”
“I think so, yeah,” Jack nods, scratching at the silver curls at the nape of his neck. “I’m pretty sure that’s where the ambulance picked him up when he overdosed, too…
“I’ll add that to his chart,” you murmur under your breath and turn away again. “I was gonna extend his prescription for Clonidine anyway— you know, so he didn’t have to come in so often. But this way, I can bring it to him with the street team. Make sure he’s doing well and everything.”
“You going tonight?” Jack wonders aloud.
“Mhm,” you nod as your fingers flit across the keyboard.
“Got room for one more, you think?”
Your squinted eyes cut suddenly in his direction, eyeing the man tentatively as he leans against the desk beside you. His freckled biceps strain against his t-shirt sleeves when he crosses them over his chest.
“Aren’t you working tonight?”
“Nope,” he answers. “Technically, I’m off ’til tomorrow.”
“…Then shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“And miss out on all the action?” Jack scoffs.” No way.”
A laugh sputters from your mouth before you can help it. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s very healthy, Dr. Abbot.”
“Of course, it’s not. But my therapist told me I needed a hobby, so…”
“So you decided getting shot at was the next best thing?” you finish in a deadpan.
“What can I say?” he shrugs. “I suck at golf.”
“You should try jogging,” you tell him, crossing the workstation for the printer on the other side of it. You feel a smile hinting at your mouth when Jack follows the short distance behind you. “It’s like running away from your problems, but, you know… pretend.”
“I tried that, actually,” Jack tells you. “But it’s harder, you know… With my leg.”
You pluck the warm paper from the buzzing printer and turn to face the man behind you. He sports a barely-there wince on his scruffy features, as if the mere mention of the amputated limb has reminded him of the phantom pain that never quite leaves him.
“Is it the sweat?” you ask with a sympathetic grimace.
“The sweat...” Jack nods slowly. “And the constant adjustments, and the strain it puts on my hip and… All of it’s a mess, to be honest.”
“You use liners, right? When you run, I mean?”
“Silicon ones, yeah.”
“You should try double-stacking knit-rite over the silicon,” you tell him, shifting awkwardly on your feet as you struggle to meet the man’s unwavering stare. You swallow hard and fidget with the paper in your fingers. “I, uh… I hear the knit helps with the sweating. Keeps the skin from blistering and everything.”
Jack’s eyes narrow, sparkling with the quiet grin that tugs at his mouth. “Where’d you learn all that, huh?”
“I’m trying to get a vascular surgeon fellowship,” you confess with a shy smile. “I’ve been working with a lot of amputees, and… they’ve taught me a whole lot, you know?”
Jack nods slowly, impressed and half-shocked. “Nice…” he hums. “Let me know if you need a letter of rec.”
He pats you gently on the shoulder as he walks by. You feel your skin burning beneath your scrubs, in the place where he’d touched you, like your brain is scarring his touch into memory.
“And, you know, if you ever wanna take up running again— We could always go to the track by the park,” you blurt. “I can help you make some adjustments, and you can help teach me a thing or two?”
You wince on instinct, preparing for rejection after being so blatantly forward.
Jack only smiles in response.
“Sounds fun,” he says, before sauntering off in the opposite direction. “Come find me before you leave with the street team tonight. We can take my truck.”
“Sure thing,” you call back, with a big dumb smile on your face. It fades the second you realize how dumb you sound. “Sure thing…?” you repeat under your breath, half-disgusted, as you return to your computer.
“About fucking time…” Santos grumbles, still in the same spot you left her in.
“Time for what?” you scoff.
“For you to get laid,” she answers like it’s obvious. “Instead of moping over Robby all the time. It was starting to get a little depressing, to be honest.”
Your face burns red hot.
“I’m not trying to get laid—” you say, then argue in a sharper whisper, “And I’m most definitely not moping over Robby.”
“And I’m not on my third breakup of the day with Garcia,” Trinity deadpans. “Since we’re both lying to each other now…”
“Only third, huh?” you quip. “Must’ve been a slow day today.”
You laugh when she flips you off.
Robby spends the better half of the afternoon just watching you.
It’s not totally his fault, to be fair, his eyes have always had a way of trying to find you in every room he’s in — even when he knows you aren’t there. But then he sees you talking to Jack, and it becomes virtually impossible to work through the sudden heaviness in his chest.
It had been thirty-five days and counting since he talked to you last, and he feels the weight of every single one of them.
He replays the words of that argument ad nauseam. He sees the face you made right before you left whenever he closes his eyes — the furrow that had formed between your brows, the way the lamplight glittered in your unshed tears, the way the tendons tensed in your neck as you fought back the urge to cry.
He thinks he’s only managed to make it this long without talking to you because he finds a strange sort of companionship in his loneliness — in the knowing that you were grieving the same way he was; that you returned to an empty room in a dark apartment every day just like he did. It’s selfish and it’s cruel, but he liked that you were just as hurt as he was. It made him feel less alone that way, like he was still close to you despite the obvious distance.
But then he catches you laughing, and his chest warms instantly at the sound — the prettiest he’d ever heard. His heart deflates a second later when he looks up from his tablet to find Jack standing in front of you, so close that you have to tilt your chin just to keep his gaze.
You peer up at the man from beneath your lashes, half-shy; the way you always looked at Robby in the very beginning of your not-quite relationship.
“Come find me before you leave with the street team tonight,” he hears Jack tell you as he walks away. “We can take my truck.”
Robby thinks a knife to the stomach would hurt less.
“Don’t you dare,” he hears Dana scold from just beside him, when she catches the man about to follow after you when you walk by without a glance thrown his way — as if he were a ghost, doomed to watching the rest of the world move on without him.
His head snaps to the side and finds the woman glaring at him over the top of her glasses.
“Don’t what?” Robby scoffs.
“You know what,” the older woman answers. “Give the girl a break, Robinavitch— You put her through enough as it is.”
“Oh, my god!” Robby exclaims with a cynical laugh. Something manic and half-hurt glitters in his dark eyes as he argues, “I got a fucking motorcycle! Why is everyone acting like I shot someone?”
Dana’s eyes harden as she pulls off her glasses, crossing her thin arms over the chest of her grey scrubs. The look she gives him then nearly makes him cower — it’s not quite angry, just colder than ice, and it cuts through him like steel.
“It’s not just the motorcycle, Robby, and you know it.”
“Do I?” he scoffs a humorless laugh.
The woman shakes her head and turns away, sneering slightly to herself, ‘cause it’s almost like he’s trying to miss the point. “If I have to spell it out for you, Robinavitch, then you’re a bigger lost cause than I thought…”
Robby spends the rest of the day stewing in her words.
Because he thought he was doing both of you a favor, in truth. He thought leaving you would make it easier to leave all the rest of it — that not having to miss you the entire time he was gone might make the trip a little more bearable. And if he knew you weren’t missing him too, then maybe he wouldn’t be thinking about you every second of every goddamn day.
That’s why he got that stupid fucking motorcycle; why he slipped up and told you he rode around without his helmet, just to pick a fight; why he told you about Noelle, because he knew it’d make you second-guess everything between the two of you. He wanted you to distance yourself from him — he needed you to distance yourself from him — because he wasn’t man enough to do it himself.
But now his foolproof plan is biting him in the ass.
And he’s missing you before he’s even left the building.
Robby asks around for you before he leaves, and Shen tells him that he saw you around back through sips of his iced coffee. So he goes to find you while the rest of the day shift trickles slowly out, with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs. When he finds you sliding miscellaneous supplies into the back of Abbot’s truck, it feels a little like a punishment — one that he knows he deserves.
“So… About that offer from before…” Jack grunts as he slides another two cases of bottled water into the bed of his truck. “I was thinking maybe we could stop by the track tomorrow morning. You know, before your shift.”
Your eyes narrow despite the quiet smile pulling slowly on your face. “I wasn’t joking about you needing to sleep after this— You do need to sleep at some point, Jack, you know that, right?”
“And I will get some when we’re done out here,” he promises and takes the stack of hygiene kits off your hands. “So… What do ya say?”
You ponder for a long moment, with your lips pursed to the side of your mouth. You can’t help but think of Robby in that moment, if you getting this close to his best friend would break his heart — or what Jack would think about you, if he found out what had really happened between Robby and you.
Because he knew the two of you were close — everyone knew, and everyone had their own speculations — but only a few knew the true extent of it; of how long you and Robby had loved each other, and of how it all crashed and burned in the end.
“Well, we’d have to go pretty early,” you mutter sheepishly. “My shift starts at seven, so…”
“That’s okay,” Jack shrugs with a grin that makes your stomach do a backflip. “I like early.”
You feel your face flare.
“I like early, too…” you mumble sheepishly as you turn back for the rolls of sleeping bags stacked on the sidewalk.
Your gaze locks with Robby’s from where he stands off in the distance. It’s like your pupils are made of magnets, like your eyes were created to be drawn immediately to his. He walks slowly through the parted double doors with his hands in his pockets and something sad in his eyes. Your heart drops at the sight of him.
“Hey, brother,” Jack greets. “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”
“Yeah, I’m… I’m headed that way…” Robby huffs with a slow nod. His brown eyes dart wildly between the two of you — from Abbot’s oblivious grin to your wide-eyed gaze. “Where are you guys off to, hm?”
“Street team,” Jack tells him.
“Jesus,” the older man scoffs. “You never slow down, do you?”
“I would, but… No one ever taught me how,” Jack quips and takes a step forward to close the distance between them. You continue packing up while the two men share a brief hug. You vaguely hear them murmuring from behind you. “Make sure you come back… Call me if it gets too dark… I’ll take care of her, I promise…”
Robby knows it’s supposed to make him feel better, but it only makes the knife twist further.
He can feel the blade piercing a lung when he asks to speak with you alone; he’s already close to bleeding out by the time he walks you to the edge of the dark sidewalk, leaving Jack to pack up all the rest.
“You gonna be alright while I’m gone?” he asks.
The smile you give him is cynical and doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Yep… I’ve been doing alright without for a while now, so…”
Robby nods, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I… I deserve that, I guess…”
“I’m not saying it to hurt you, Robby,” you sigh. “I’m saying it because it’s true— That’s the difference between you and me. I don’t take pleasure in making you feel like shit.”
“I was trying to— I just wanted to—” He stumbles over himself trying to get the words out. He huffs and runs his palms down the length of his bearded face. “I think I was just trying to make it easier on us, you know, me going away… I thought if we hated each other, I’d be able to leave, but now…”
“Now what?” you press.
“Now you hate me!” Robby answers with a laugh. “And I still don’t want to leave!”
You sigh hard through your nose. Though your stern stare never wavers, you soften visibly around the edges as you confess, “I don’t hate you, Robby… But I do want you to leave.”
He flinches like you’ve hit him “…W-What?”
“I want you to go. I want you to have the… best three months of your whole goddamn life. I don’t care where you go, who you see, or if you— take Noelle with you. I don’t give a shit, I just…” You trail off with a heavy sigh and firm glare. “I want you to come back. That’s all I care about.”
“Of course I’m coming back…” he tells you gently, hands aching as he fights the urge to hold you. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, honey.”
His words make your stomach swirl with a warm feeling. He grins down at you like he knows it, too.
“Bye, Robby,” you deadpan and turn on your heel to walk away.
“Are you still gonna be here?” the man calls after you. You look at him over your shoulder and feel your throat closing at the look he gives you — dark eyes wet and squishy around the edges, glimmering gold beneath the amber streetlamp. “When I came back, I mean. Are you… Are you still gonna be here?”
“I’m always gonna be around, Robby,” you tell him. “You know that—”
“Yeah, but… Will you still be here?”
Waiting for me, he doesn’t say.
You don’t have the right words to answer him.
“…Call me if you need me, okay?” is all you can think to say in the moment. “I’ll answer. I promise.”
Robby feels his heart breaking when he watches Jack help you into the passenger seat of his truck. Because a part of him knows, not so distantly, that he’s bound to find you by Abbot’s side when he returns.
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Also can we talk about THE Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi in this episode???? Saved a kid’s life doing a procedure she had never done in person (perfectly executed while also teaching it when even Robby was obviously too intimidated to try it) and refusing to take Garcia’s shit about “butchering” the cut because she knows she did that!!! And then also not scared to professionally, privately, and firmly call Robby out about his behavior with Samira??? Even while he was acting like a bit of a child about it?? Oh I love her BAD
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