Antler Queen Jackie Taylor

It stopped being something you celebrated entirely when you left for college. Your friends had asked in passing a few times, but you always managed to allow it to slip through the cracks for the most part, avoiding any sort of celebration and meeting the continuous texts and posts with polite thank-yous.

That's pretty much all you'd get from your dad. Even before you left, even before your mom died, it was almost always just a card and a wish. You knew he loved you, but Michael Robinavitch didn't know his daughter.

And maybe that's why you were absolutely dreading walking into the ED today. Because it was already hard watching him fawn over Whitaker 24/7. And it was hard watching him be gentle with Mel and Santos. And it was hard watching Dana's eyes fill with pity as she perceived your interactions with Robby.

You knew someone was going to say something, and it was going to become a bigger deal than it ever needed to be. It's just another day- I'm not anyone special. Is always what you argued. No one ever really accepted that response.

The first person to make it a thing was Mel. You'd barely made it to the lockers before she appeared beside you and pressed a coffee into your hand- your exact order.

"Happy birthday." You stopped in your tracks. Her sweet smile and adorable sparkle in her eyes stopped your heart for a moment. You stared at the cup.

"You don't even drink coffee..."

"No," she agreed. "But you do."

"How'd you know my order?" You gave her a teasing brow raise and small smile. She shrugged, "I asked Dana."

You winced jokingly, "Mel..."

"It gets better." Your eyes narrowed, and she grinned. "There's a cake in the break room."

You threw your head back with a groan. "It's only a small cake!"

"Mel-" "A very small cake." You couldn't help the tiniest smile on your lips, ever endeared by the blonde. The ache in your heart persisted- touched by her small gift and the likelihood that Dana had made everyone aware of today being your birthday.

"Thank you." You tilted your chin down slightly, shyly holding her gaze. "You're welcome!"

The second person was Santos- you didn't really know what to expect from her, but what you got felt pretty manageable and on brand. She nearly tackled you during a lull between patients, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and shoving a granola bar into your scrub pocket.

"Happy birthday, Tweety- you're like- so old now?" she sarcastically drew out her words, a teasing smirk pulling at her lips as you rolled your eyes

"Aren't you only a couple years older than me?"

"Exactly. Which makes us ancient."

The third was Whitaker. You and him hadn't interacted as much as you initially anticipated, since he seemed to be attached to your father's hip, and you preferred to stay as far away from Robby as possible.

Dennis appeared out of nowhere, carrying a chart, throwing a gentle smile your way, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you." Then he disappeared again. The interaction lasted less than three seconds, somehow, it still counted for something.

By noon, you had accumulated enough birthday wishes to make your skin crawl. Texts from college friends. A voicemail from one of your former professors. Even a card from Dana that she'd somehow gotten half the department to sign.

Every single one made your chest feel a little tighter. Because every time someone remembered, it became harder not to notice who hadn't... You felt terrible for keeping track.

But every time Robby walked past, some pathetic part of you still waited. Maybe now. You haven't had much time to interact today. Maybe he's just had a rough morning. Maybe he's busy. Maybe-

"Whitaker!" You looked up instinctively upon hearing his voice. Robby was standing across the department, laughing at something the younger doctor had said, his hand landing briefly on his shoulder. Easy and affectionate, their familiarity read clearly to anyone who looked

Something ugly twisted in your chest.

It didn't feel right to call it jealousy- it was something a little more than that- something that was slightly off from being jealousy. Grief felt like a more appropriate term. Grief for all the versions of your relationship that never existed. For all the conversations you never had. For the fact that your father could tell Whitaker's favorite takeout order and probably couldn't remember what kind of cake you liked as a kid. You looked away before he could catch you staring.

"Look at you leaving again, it's all you know how to do"

You should've known Dana was the first domino- once one person remembered, everyone seemed to remember or be notified. Just little things like Mel's coffee, Trinity's granola bar, stuff like that. You spent most of the morning pretending to hate every second of it, which wasn't entirely a lie.

"You know," Santos said as she leaned against the nurses' station, "most people would just say thank you."

You kept your eyes on your work as you continued charting, "I did say thank you."

"You sighed first."

"It's exhausting being born." She rolled her eyes and watched you continue your charting. A second later, Santos' smile softened.

"Seriously, though." You finally glanced up. "Happy birthday."

Something in her voice made your chest ache. It's not like she said anything life-changing, but that was exactly what made it hurt. It was easy, so easy, for her to say that. She talked like it wasn't hard to care about you- like remembering wasn't some monumental task.

"Thanks," you said quietly. Santos nodded once before pushing away from the desk and walking off. You wished the ache would go away with her, but it remained.

You hated that every well-meaning interaction somehow circled back to your father and what was missing. To the fact that you kept catching yourself looking across the department, not even conscious of it at first.

You felt ridiculous seeking out your father and yearning for his attention like you were 12 years old again. You were a grown woman for Christ's sake- a doctor even! You had your own apartment, your own career, your own life that had stopped involving your father years ago.

And somehow, one forgotten birthday had you acting like a child. You shoved the thought away and focused on your chart, like you'd been doing for the last 20 minutes.

The truth was, part of you just wanted to leave. You started thinking about how much easier it would have been if you just stayed away. At least that way, if Robby forgot your birthday, you'd only be missing a text, and you wouldn't have to worry about seeing him get along perfectly fine with his shiny new doctors.

The failed attempts at reconnecting. The constant comparisons between who your father was to everyone else and who he was to you. Trying so hard to stop yourself from thinking about it so much over the last few weeks.

You winced at the acknowledgment- it all sounded suspiciously like something your mother would've said. Not cruelly, of course, just honestly. She'd always had an irritating ability to call you out in the most supportive way possible. You could practically hear her voice now. Running away before anyone has the chance to disappoint you still counts as running away, sweetheart. You frowned at your computer.

"Don't start." You nearly jumped, turning over your shoulder to see Dana leaning her weight on the desk, her other hand on her hip as she hovered over you

"What?" she chuckled softly

"Jesus Christ." Dana looked delighted. "You were talking to yourself."

You stared at her, eyes widening slightly in humiliation, while Dana stared back with a slight raise of her brow. She narrowed her eyes. "...You're thinking too hard."

You groaned immediately, and she chuckled again, inching closer to pat your head, then leave her hand resting atop it. "So glad to see you're in that classic birthday mood of yours."

You jerked your head slightly out of her hold and gave her a look, "Oh, c'mon, I do not have a look."

Dana leaned back against the desk again, arms crossed over her chest, "You get extra sulky."

She mocked your pout and scrunched brows, while you stared back at her with a deadpan expression. "Go away."

Dana laughed, but didn't go very far as she sat next to you and began her own work. You enjoyed the few moments of silence before she spoke up one last time, "Don't go disappearing on us again, kid. You got it?"

Your movements stilled at that, your heart rate spiking at her ability to read you like an open book. You tried to rid yourself of the guilty expression you were sure was presenting itself clearly. You didn't have the heart to say anything after that.

"They all say you're a light, all I see is a shadow"

Your current conversation with Whitaker started because of a patient, as most conversations did in the ED. You were reviewing a chart when he dropped into the chair beside you with a sigh.

"I would've admitted him." You glanced over. "The chest pain guy?"

He nodded, pursing his lips, "Yeah."

You shook your head slightly, a small crease of confusion forming between your brows, "He didn't need admission."

"I know that now." Whitaker rubbed a hand over his face. "I just didn't see it."

You hummed. That was residency in a nutshell, not seeing it until somebody else pointed it out.

"Robby caught it in like thirty seconds." You kept your eyes on the screen. "Yeah, well, he's been doing this for thirty years."

"Still." Whitaker shook his head. "I swear he looks at a patient once and suddenly knows everything."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "Trust me. He doesn't."

The blonde grinned and tilted his head toward you. "You know what I mean."

Unfortunately, you did. Across the department, Robby was standing at a workstation, explaining something to Javadi while simultaneously signing orders and answering a question from a nurse.

It should've looked chaotic, instead, somehow, it worked. He made it look effortlessly smooth, the years of experience ever present and noticeable in his energy.

People trusted him, listened when he spoke, and maybe that was the part that got under your skin. Because everybody saw the same thing- an attending who stayed late, a mentor, a man who somehow remembered details about patients he'd treated months ago.

But you saw a man who couldn't even remember his kid's birthday. A man who'd prioritized others so much that he'd forgotten important details about himself and those who were supposed to be closest to him.

"He's probably the best attending I've worked with," Whitaker casually carried on. You knew it was a thoughtless comment, not intended to mean anything or carry any specific weight. Still, something in your stomach tightened.

You knew he was talking about Michael Robinavitch, the doctor, obviously not Michael Robinavitch, the father. Which is fine, because they now have to become two completely different people to you.

"Yeah," you heard yourself say. Whitaker looked surprised at your lack of backup.

"Yeah?" You shrugged. "He's good."

Good. Understatement of the century.

Whitaker laughed. "That's all you're giving me? You got to have your own personal doctor growing up and you don't have any more details to give but "good"?"

Not wanting to get into the details of your childhood trauma, you fixed him with a politely unimpressed look, then returned your attention to the chart. "That's all you're getting from me."

Whitaker shook his head and went back to his notes. The conversation ended there, but the feeling lingered. Everyone always talked about Robby like he was a source of warmth and steadiness. Like he was someone you could rely on in moments of doubt. The person you wanted in the room when everything went wrong.

And maybe that was true, maybe that's exactly who he was. You just weren't sure you'd ever met that version of him.

Your eyes shifted above your screen, finding Robby where he was still talking to Javadi. Whitaker followed your gaze for half a second before returning to his chart.

"You know what the scary part is?" You sighed. "That you're still talking about it?"

"I'm serious." You sighed, folding your arms underneath you as you rested against them, then made a vague motion for him to continue. "He catches things I didn't even know I was supposed to be looking for."

"That's generally how experience works." Whitaker rolled his eyes.

"You're impossible." You shrugged and pursed your lips, casually.

"So I've been told." He laughed before turning back to his computer.

The conversation truly ended there, and you should've been able to return to your work. Instead, you found yourself watching him for a moment.

Whitaker had been one of the first people you'd met when you started at the hospital. Back then, you'd thought you'd probably become friends. You were around the same age, seemed to have similar senses of humor, both survived on caffeine and bad decisions- and of course, the fact that you both lived in Nebraska for a period of time

It would've made sense.

Then it never really happened. You got along and joked around every now and then. You'd even grab lunch if a shift lined up right. But there was always something that kept you at arm's length.

For a long time, you'd blamed him- or at least, you'd pretended to. Told yourself he reminded you too much of your ex (which just wasn't true in any way), that he was too awkward for it to be endearing (you were still annoyingly endeared), and numerous other excuses so you didn't have to face the real reason you couldn't quite allow yourself to get close with him.

To put it plainly, you were jealous of Dennis Whitaker.

He always seemed to be with Robby- learning from him, talking to him about god knows what, following him around the department- The eager resident and the attending everyone wanted to impress.

And every time you'd tried getting closer, some ugly, irrational part of your brain had whispered the same thing. Why would he want to be friends with you? Your dad already likes him, so getting close to you would only get in the way of that.

The thought embarrassed you now, especially because it sounded so childish. It wasn't even fair. Whitaker had never done anything to make you feel unwelcome or that he was more concerned with staying on your father's good side than becoming your friend. If anything, he'd always been kind.

The problem was that every conversation somehow became another reminder of the relationship you didn't have. Another reminder that people found connecting with Robby easy.

You finally looked away and, unfortunately, immediately thought of Santos. Trinity Santos, who also adored Robby. Respected him. Talked about him like he hung the moon whenever the conversation drifted toward medicine. And somehow that had never stopped the two of you from becoming friends... If anything, it happened frighteningly fast and that was WITH her acknowledging that he seemed like a shit dad.

A few shifts. A few lunches. A handful of conversations that accidentally became personal. Now she was one of the first people you looked for when you walked into work.

So clearly that wasn't it. Clearly, your problem wasn't people liking Robby, or looking up to him, or wanting his approval- otherwise, Santos would've ended up in the same box as Whitaker.

The realization sat heavily in your chest.

Because if that wasn't the reason, then maybe the issue was simpler. Maybe Whitaker had never actually done anything wrong, or even come close to it. Maybe you'd just looked at him and seen another person getting something you'd wanted your entire life.

And that wasn't his fault. It wasn't Robby's, either- at least not entirely. The thought was uncomfortable enough that you immediately shoved it away.

You hadn't even realized that Whitaker had gotten up to seek out Robby again until you glanced back to where he had been talking to Victoria a few moments ago, only to see Dennis in her place. You returned to your chart.

A second later, Santos appeared beside you, carrying a cup of coffee. "You look annoyed."

"I'm charting."

"You look emotionally annoyed." You sighed deeply and bit your cheek as you spared her an irritated glance. Unfortunately, she took that as confirmation and turned the other way.

"Cause if I call you out, I'm an asshole"

The day rolled on- patients came and went, labs resulted, someone stole your favorite pen- very normal. Almost normal enough to forget what day it was.

You were restocking your pockets outside the supply room when Dana caught up to you. "So."

You immediately sighed. "I already don't like that tone."

"What tone? I don't have a tone-"

"You do- you get this particular tone when you're about to ask me something personal and possibly sensitive." you tried to seem playfully annoyed, but were tired and couldn't help the affectionate smile pulling casually at your lips. Dana's smile matched yours as she nodded, acknowledging your callout before continuing

"I was just wondering if you and your dad had plans after the shift."

Your hands stopped moving more a brief second, as you side eyed her with a raised brow, then immediately resumed.

"No." you breathed out, trying to hide the bitterness and seem as unfazed as possible

"No?" Dana watched you purse your lips and shake your head as you avoided eye contact "No."

She frowned slightly. "I figured maybe dinner or something-"

You laughed before you could stop yourself. It came out sharper than you intended and you immediately felt bad, but unfortunately couldn't bring yourself to keep the outward manifestation of your resentment entirely reeled in

"Dinner. You seriously think Dr. Robby's gonna take me to dinner after this?" Dana's expression shifted immediately. You always had an underlying venom laced through your tone when you called him "Dr. Robby", and made things very clear to everyone that you were in no mood to keep talking about him. But that of course meant nothing to Dana

"You could ask him." she shrugged, reasonable and casual as she tended to be. It was perfectly logical, in the way that most things Dana said were. You stared at the box of IV flushes in your hands. Ask him what? To dinner? Why he forgot? Why it was so hard for him to put in even half the effort he put into this hospital, into your relationship? How exactly was that conversation supposed to go?

Hey, Dad. Happy birthday to me. By the way, do you know it hurts watching you become the father I always wanted for people you've known less than a year?

Ridiculous. Cruel. Selfish. Because if you called him out... You were the asshole. He'd spent decades saving lives, working nights, missing holidays because someone else's emergency couldn't wait, and dealing with the trauma of it all on top of that.

You knew why he'd missed things, you understood it better than most. Hell, you'd chosen the same career and are walking the exact same path. So what right did you have to make him feel guilty for it now?

You set the box back on the shelf a little harder than necessary, with Dana still watching you.

"I don't know," you said finally. The older woman raised a brow, "About?"

"Anything." She nodded slowly, but didn't push. One of the things you appreciated most about Dana was that she usually knew when to stop asking- usually.

"You know..." she said carefully, "I don't think he'd be upset if you asked."

You looked down the hallway- Robby was halfway through explaining something to Whitaker, using his hands the way he always did when he was teaching, to which Whitaker listened intently. Santos wandered over halfway through the explanation without anyone inviting her, and within seconds, the three of them were laughing about something. Your chest helplessly tightened.

"No," you murmured. "I don't think he'd be upset."

Dana followed your gaze. She didn't say anything- she didn't have to. Because the problem had never been whether Robby would be upset, it was whether or not he'd understand why you were.

"So come home, let's fight 'bout the childhood lie, we don't care what the other one thinks"

The opportunity came almost by accident- You were reviewing imaging when Robby stepped up beside your workstation. "Did you see bed twelve's repeat troponin?"

You pulled it up. "Negative."

"That's what I thought." He leaned over your shoulder for half a second, scanning the screen, close enough that you caught the familiar scent of hospital soap and stale coffee.

He nodded once. "Good catch on ordering the repeat."

Your stomach twisted ever so slightly. "Thanks."

You waited patiently as he reached for the mouse and clicked through the rest of the labs. He'd seen you now. He'd spoken to you. There was no way to excuse his forgetfulness this time.

"Can you put in a cardiology consult before you pick up another patient?" Your heartbeat sped up. If you were gonna say something, now would've been the oppurtunity. Surely... surely now was a good time-

"Thanks." Robby took a step back and turned to leave. That was it. Something inside you snapped.

"Anything else?" He looked back.

"What?" You folded your arms.

"I don't know," The words came out before you could stop them. "Seems like you're forgetting something."

His brow furrowed, genuinely confused. "I am?"

Your face dropped for a brief second as you gelt your heart squeeze painfully inside your chest. You burried the feeling and lowered your head for a short moment as you huffed out a humorless laugh

"You tell me." For a second, he just looked at you, trying to figure out where the conversation had gone sideways. Then his expression shifted. "What's with the attitude?"

Your jaw tightened at his cluelessness- his even tone and professionalism just about sending you over the edge. "We're in the middle of a shift."

"I know that."

"Then whatever this is..." He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "...it can wait until we're not standing in front of three nurses and a trauma room."

The words landed like a slap, even though there was no harshness to them. It was clean and dismissive, as Robby always tended to be toward people and interactions that he saw as nothing but a mere waist of time.

You glanced around, eyes landing on Perlah and Princess, who were barely pretending not to listen. Whitaker was thankfully nowhere nearby, but the heat of humiliation crawled up your neck. Robby gave you one last look, the kind that said I'm not doing this here. Then, just as another monitor started alarming, he was gone.

You stared after him, not realizing you'd been doing so until Santos walked directly into your line of sight.

"Earth to Mini Ronby." You blinked back to focus, immediately grimacing, "Oh god, don't call me that-"

"Well you're moping around like him, so i thought it was a little more fitting today- besides, I asked if Bed Sixteen was yours."

You glanced down at the tracking board and sighed. "Oh. Yeah."

"You okay?"

"I'm charting."

"Right. Charting. Still as aggressive as before- maybe even worse now."

You looked down, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, unmoving. "...I was thinking."

"I noticed." Santos lingered for another second, long enough that you knew she wasn't buying it, long enough that she almost asked another question. Then a call bell went off, and she peeled away with an absent, "We'll revisit whatever this is."

You were grateful for the interruption, mostly because you had no idea what you would've said. You liked Trinity. She had some idea of your relationship (or lack thereof) with your father, but you never gave her too much information for a multitude of reasons. One, it seemed unprofessional to open up about your daddy issues to your new coworkers, especially when your second reason is because your father just so happens to be everyone's boss. There's also a third reason- that you are just too scared to let someone look at you that close, knowing that it will only a can of worms that you've learned to manage much better on your own.

You picked up the next chart, read the chief complaint, forgot it immediately, then read it again. Chest pain. Right. Focus. Patient first- always. You forced yourself through the HPI, trying to drown out the conversation replaying in your head.

"Seems like you're forgetting something." "I am?" He'd looked genuinely confused. That was the part you couldn't stop thinking about. Like the possibility hadn't even crossed his mind, which somehow hurt more than if he'd forgotten on purpose and was just avoiding saying anything out of awkwardness or just being an intentional asshole.

Because forgetting on purpose at least would've meant he'd made a choice. This... this was just thoughtlessness. This felt like you meant so little to him that he couldn't even be bothered to keep one day in mind.

You hated that your eyes kept drifting toward him. He was already three patients removed from the conversation. Talking with a nurse, checking imaging, stepping into Trauma One- completely absorbed in his work, like nothing had happened. And maybe to him, nothing had. To Robby, it had probably been another brief exchange with his occasionally irritable daughter. Another misunderstanding. Something that would pass.

You wondered how many moments in your life he'd filed away like that. How many times you'd needed him to ask one more question- What's wrong? Talk to me. Why are you upset? -and instead he'd assumed you were just being difficult...

Your pager vibrated- bed sixteen. You exhaled slowly. Maybe you should've started acting like your father (again). Detached from anything personal, focus entirely on your work, and drown yourself in it until it inevitably drives you to the brink. That seemed much easier than dealing with your family at this point.

"Damn." You looked up to see Dana standing on the other side of the desk, watching Robby disappear around the corner, then she looked back at you. She hadn't heard the conversation, she didn't need to, one glance at your face was enough.

She walked over quietly. "You want the good news or the bad news?"

You let out a dry laugh. "I have options?"

"The good news is nobody noticed." You looked toward the other end of the nurses' station, and Dana followed your gaze. "...Nobody who matters."

"And the bad?" She gave you a sympathetic smile. "You look like you're trying really hard not to cry."

Your throat tightened immediately. "I'm not."

"Sure." Before you could answer, a trauma alert echoed overhead. Dana squeezed your shoulder once as she hurried toward the ambulance bay.

"If you wanna kick this rock around, if you've got a bone to pick with me"

Robby noticed your avoidance. Not immediately, of course- why would he? You hadn't raised any concern to him or seemed particularly off. The only reason he even started paying attention was because, after all these years, the one thing he'd gotten pretty good at recognizing was when his daughter was avoiding him.

It wasn't exactly a skill he'd ever wanted to develop.

He caught it the third time you rerouted yourself around the nurses' station. The fourth time you asked Dr. Al-Hashimi a question you normally would've brought to him. The fifth time you looked up, saw him, and immediately buried yourself in a chart.

He frowned. "Everything okay?"

Whitaker glanced up from the computer. "Hm?"

"With Y/n." Whitaker followed his line of sight. You were halfway across the department talking with Santos.

"Seems fine." Robby nodded absently.

He wasn't convinced. You didn't look upset. Maybe irritated, and if that were the case, you were definitely irritated with him... again.

He replayed the exchange from earlier- the first time the two of you really had a moment to talk all day.

"Seems like you're forgetting something." What had you meant? He came up empty. If you had a problem with one of his decisions, you usually just came out and said so. If you thought he'd missed something medically, you'd tell him. If you wanted to argue... well.... you'd never exactly struggled with that.

His mouth twitched despite himself. Some habits never changed.

Yet, others certainly had. There'd been a time when the arguments ended with tears and slammed bedroom doors and twenty minutes later he'd find you in the kitchen making yourself a sandwich like nothing had happened. A time when he'd knock softly on your door before bed and ask if you were still mad, you'd shrug. He'd tell you he loved you anyway.

Nowadays, there weren't many arguments. Just long stretches of polite conversation... holiday phone calls... careful dinners that never quite ventured beyond work, the weather, or whatever medical journal one of you had read recently.

Somewhere along the way, the shouting had stopped, and most of the reflection Robby saw of himself in you had faded. He wasn't sure when silence and absence of pushback had become worse than the constant bickering.

He'd spent years wondering if things would get easier once you grew up. Instead, it sometimes felt like the older you got, the less either of you knew how to reach across whatever distance had settled between you.

He hated it, like any father who loved his daughter would, he just didn't know what to do about it. Every attempt seemed to land wrong- call too often, and he worried he was intruding. Give you space, and it felt like neglect. Offer advice, and he sounded like your attending instead of your father. Stay quiet, and he sounded like neither...

So he settled into the uncomfortable middle- close enough to convince himself he was trying, far enough away that he couldn't make things any worse. Or so he hoped.

He looked back to where you were laughing at something Santos had said now, completely at ease. The sight was oddly reassuring- at least someone was making you laugh. He was glad you weren't alone here- Robby always worried about you making and keeping friends (you were always such a sensitive and genuine kid, and people took advantage of that), and I guess that's one thing that will never change.

So maybe it wasn't that serious... maybe you'd just had an odd moment. Maybe it has just been a long shift and you were stressed and tired. He let himself believe that, not because he was certain it was true, but because the alternative- that there was something bigger he'd missed again- sat like a stone in his stomach.

He let the thought go. If you really had a bone to pick with him... you'd tell him. Wouldn't you?

Across the department, you happened to glance up, your eyes meeting his for half a second. He was about to walk over, but Robby looked away first, answering a nurse's question then moving quickly to tend to another patient. The moment dissolved before either of you could do anything with it.

Just another almost-conversation, another thing left unsaid. Another day he told himself there would be time to fix it later.

"Oh, we can fight like we used to fight"

You ducked into the medication room mostly for the silence- the fluorescent lights hummed steadily overhead, the sterile smell of alcohol wipes and disinfectant settling heavily in the air. Shelves lined every wall, stacked with neatly labeled bins and medication drawers that somehow always looked untouched despite the constant traffic through them. It was one of the few places in the department where the chaos outside felt muffled, reduced to distant monitor alarms and the occasional overhead page bleeding faintly through the walls.

You leaned against the counter, squeezing your eyes shut as you let yourself breathe for exactly three seconds. One in, one out. One in, one out. One in-

The door opened again, and you almost laughed as you dropped your head. Robby stepped inside, letting it swing shut behind him with a soft click. The room suddenly felt smaller. "There you are."

You busied yourself reorganizing a drawer that definitely didn't need reorganizing. "Need something?"

He watched you for a moment before answering. "I wanted to make sure we're okay."

Your hands stilled, and you took one slow breath before answering, carefully schooling your expression into something neutral despite the fact that he couldn't even see your face. "We're at work."

"I know."

"So we're fine."

"That's not how that works, nor is that what I asked." You shut the drawer a little harder than necessary, finally turning around to face him with your arms crossed, "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth would be a good place to start." He quipped, his typical already-about-to-explode sarcasm dripping from the words. You laughed quietly, "Sure..."

His brow furrowed at your attitude. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." you shrugged, clearly bothered by something. Robby glanced around incredulously, jaw ticking once his gaze landed back on you.

"You've been avoiding me all day." You barked out a laugh at that, eyed wide with disbelief, "I've been avoiding you?"

"Okay- maybe not at first, but after our little conversation, ya definitely have been"

"yeah, cuz I need to do my fucking job-"

"Watch your mouth." His response was automatic. Not even particularly stern, just parental. The same tone he'd used when you were fifteen, when you'd tracked mud through the house after practice, when you didn't do the dishes within the first ten minutes of him asking. The familiarity of it irritated you more than it should have.

"Whatever- I've been working."

"You've been doing both." The room fell quiet. Robby crossed his arms, studying you with that infuriatingly patient expression that made him such a good attending. "You've been snapping at me since we talked earlier."

"I snapped once."

"You snapped once out loud." The words landed before either of you had time to soften them. Your jaw tightened, and your brows furrowed.

"What, so you've been keeping score?" You knew your attitude was not one you should be having with your father, and if you were in a better mood, maybe you'd give him some credit for seeming more patient than usual.

"No." he shook his head, mouth already open for the next sentence, but you cut him off, "Could've fooled me."

"I'm trying to understand what's going on here, Y/n."

"Why?" The question came out sharper than you'd intended. "You haven't seemed particularly interested all day."

Something flickered across his face- confusion, then hurt.

"What is that supposed to mean?" The room suddenly felt too bright. You looked away. "Forget it."

"Nope." His voice stayed calm, but firmer now. "You don't get to throw something like that at me and then tell me to forget it."

You let out a slow breath through your nose, pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek. "This is exactly why I don't say anything."

"Because I ask you to explain?"

"Because you don't hear me until I finally get frustrated." Robby stared at you, shoulders sagging just enough to be noticeable. "I've been standing here asking what's wrong, honey."

"Now you are." A wave of silence fell over you as the energy began to shift. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, exhaustion written plainly across his face now. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed deeper than they had this morning.

"If you've got something to say to me kid, now's the time to say it... I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier, but you know how things get here. I'm giving you the time to let me know what's going on..."

The challenge wasn't angry, it was tired. Very tired. For just a second, he wasn't your attending, or even Dr. Robby. He wasn't the respected department chief everyone looked to for answers. He was just your dad. He was looking at his daughter and realizing he'd somehow lost the thread of the conversation hours ago.

"I'm here."

Your eyes met his and you felt your defenses drop concerningly fast. Your eyes widened and stung as tears began to film over. Your heart clenched again- you felt a little sick. For one dangerous second, you considered it- telling him everything. How every missed recital, every empty seat, every birthday uncelebrated took a bigger toll on you than you ever fully realized until now. How every time you'd watched him give someone else the version of himself you'd spent your childhood wishing for, you had to fight yourself not to act out.

The words rose into your throat, then died there. You didn't even know where to begin... The words climbed into your throat. One sentence, that was all it would've taken.

But where did you even begin?

With your mother- the divorce? With Jake? With the birthdays? With the fact that you weren't even sure if you were angry anymore, or just… sad? The weight of twenty-something years couldn't fit into one conversation... so instead, you shook your head.

"It doesn't matter." His shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly. "It clearly does."

"It doesn't."

"You don't believe that."

"No," you admitted quietly. "I don't."

The admission hung between you as neither of you moved. A knock sounded against the door.

"Dr. Robinavitch?" one of the nurses called from the hallway. "EMS is two minutes out."

Robby closed his eyes for the briefest second.

"Coming." He looked back at you. "We're not done with this."

You bit your cheek, biting back the tears and overflow of emotions that were threatening to pour out of you. You nodded and raised your brows slightly, acknowledging Robby's words.

"We're not." he reaffirmed, then opened the door and disappeared back into the controlled chaos of the department. You waited until his footsteps faded before following.

"I wish you could know me"

It was probably close to an hour later when the hallway emptied as transport rolled your patient toward CT. For the first time all day, neither of you had somewhere you needed to be.

Robby sighed as he approached you, observing as you avoided eye contact, your body language giving that of an animal with their guard up, ready to run at any sign of danger. "I'm not looking for a fight."

You laughed under your breath. "Could've fooled me."

"I'm serious."

"So am I." He rested a hand on his hip, visibly searching for the right words. He wore the same careful expression he wore with difficult families- nervous residents- patients he knew were about to hear bad news. It irritated you immediately.

"Can we just..." He exhaled. "Reset?"

You blinked. "Reset."

"Yeah."

"As in pretend none of this happened?"

"As in start over." You stared at him. It sounded so easy when he said it- like whatever had been building between you all day was just another misunderstanding, something that could be wiped clean with a deep breath and a different approach.

"You've always been stubborn," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough that he was trying to lighten the mood. "I know how you get."

Something in your chest snapped taut, and your semi-irritated expression shifted into deeper, more visible distress. Robby clocked it, and his smile faded. "What?"

"You think you know me."

"I do know you."

"No." The word came faster than you meant it to. "You know who I was, and even then, you didn't know that person either."

Silence. He frowned. He looked genuinely taken aback.

"I don't..." He stopped himself, then tried again. "I've known you your whole life."

"You've known of my whole life." His face changed immediately. It was all the subtle cues that felt massive to you- his shoulders dropped just a fraction, his jaw tightened, like he'd physically felt the words you launched at him.

"That's not fair..." his voice came out much softer, "You don't get to say that."

"I don't?" You searched his face, your own expression caught somewhere between disbelief and heartbreak. "Why not?"

"Because it's not true." Your lips parted, but for a moment nothing came out. You studied him instead- the lines around his eyes, the streaks of gray that hadn't been there a decade ago, the exhaustion sitting heavy across his shoulders after hours of running an emergency department.

You knew this man. At least… you knew pieces of him.

The physician. The attending. The father who remembered to call when your car broke down but forgot to ask how the vacation you'd been planning for months had gone. The man who loved you with every part of himself... and somehow still felt like a stranger.

"Isn't it?"

Robby searched your face, looking for some indication that you didn't really mean it. He found none.

Instead, he took another slow step toward you, leaving only a few feet between the two of you. Close enough that he could see the shine of tears gathering in your eyes. Close enough that you could see the uncertainty beginning to creep into his. "I was there."

"Were you?" The question hung between you. You weren't loud or even dramatic with your delivery, the weight of it all coming from how genuinely you asked. Like you sincerely wanted to know whether the two of you had somehow lived completely different versions of the same life.

"I was there when you were born." You almost laughed, eyebrows lifting ever so slightly, the corner of your mouth threatening to curl into something bitter.

"When you broke your arm after doing gymnastics for only a month." His voice remained steady, measured. As though walking back through your childhood might somehow help you find each other again.

"When you graduated high school." his eyes stayed fixed on yours, not even noticing the resignation starting to waft off of you. "When-"

"You can list milestones all day." You cut him off before he could finish. "That doesn't mean you know anything about me."

His mouth opened, then immediately closed again. You hated the look on his face. Not because he looked angry, but because he looked confused, like he was mentally flipping through years of memories, trying to understand how they had somehow become insufficient.

"I know you're stubborn," he said quietly. The certainty returned to his voice just enough that you knew he'd found something to hold onto.

"I know you overwork yourself."

"I know you hate asking for help- and I'll admit, that is definitely my fault." A sad smile ghosted across his face before disappearing just as quickly.

"I know you overthink." He looked directly at you again. "Everything."

"Not because you're scared of what people think of you…" His voice softened, "but because you never want to hurt someone. Even if it's an accident. Even if it's not your fault."

Every sentence felt like another tiny cut. None of the statements he said were necessarily wrong; they were just incomplete.

Surface-level observations, things any attending who'd worked with you for six months could tell you. You wanted him to say something only a father would know.

Anything.

Your favorite book. The band you'd been obsessed with in college. The way you still called your mom's sister every Sunday. The fact that you'd switched specialties three times before landing in emergency medicine because you were terrified of becoming him.

Anything.

"I know my daughter." You swallowed hard. It always hurt so bad to hear him call you that. My daughter. Not your name. Not the woman standing in front of him. Just the role you'd been assigned before you'd ever become your own person. You wished hearing him call you that filled you with pride and joy... maybe it's time to give up on that dream.

The realization was so sharp it almost made you laugh. He really thought that was enough. He really believed knowing who you'd been at seventeen meant he knew who you were at twenty-five. And somehow that hurt more than him forgetting your birthday ever could.

Because birthdays were dates. This was you.

You looked at him for a long moment. And all you could think was I wish you knew me. Not your daughter. Me. Before you could say anything else, a voice echoed from down the hall.

"Dr. Robinavitch!" Both of you turned instinctively. Dana was waving from the nurses' station. "We need both of you."

The moment shattered. Robby looked back at you. "We are finishing this conversation later."

You gave a humorless smile. "Maybe."

But for the first time all day, you weren't sure you wanted to.

"And I wish I could know you much more sometimes"

Dana found Robby first, standing alone in the physician workroom, staring at a chart he'd already signed. "You've been reading the same page for about three minutes."

He looked up, almost startled, but said nothing as he stared owlishly at the older woman. "The chart."

"Oh..." He glanced down at it before setting it aside. "I guess I have."

Dana stepped farther into the room, letting the door drift nearly shut behind her. She leaned casually against the counter, arms folding loosely across her chest.

She'd known Robby long enough to recognize when he was hiding behind work. And she'd known him even longer than that. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

Robby let out a quiet breath through his nose. "It was nothing."

"Mhm."

"It was." She didn't argue, didn't call him out, didn't tell him she knew he was lying. Dana simply waited. Silence had always been one of her greatest strengths- she understood that people were remarkably uncomfortable with it, especially Robby.

"I don't know what I'm missing-" There it was.

"I feel like every time I think we're making progress..." He shook his head. "I say the wrong thing."

"You and Y/n?" He nodded once, barely anything.

"I don't even know what we were arguing about." The admission sounded almost embarrassing.

"I know she was upset... I know it was about me. I just..." He rubbed a tired hand over his face. "I don't know why."

Dana watched him carefully, studying him for a long moment. Not with judgment, but with quiet concern. "Did you ask?"

Robby sighed, shaking his head again, "I tried."

"And?" A sad, humorless laugh. "Apparently, I don't know my own daughter."

The words settled heavily between them. He stared at the floor for a long moment afterward, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing against the edge of the countertop as though he needed something to ground himself.

"I keep thinking if I just give her enough space, she'll come to me." He shook his head almost immediately afterward, frustrated with himself. "Then I try getting closer, and it feels like I push her even farther away."

The helplessness in his voice was unmistakable now. He wasn't asking Dana for advice or looking for reassurance, he was simply exhausted. His voice dropped almost to a whisper.

"I don't know how to be her dad anymore." Dana's expression softened. "You never stopped being her dad."

He smiled sadly, shaking his head. "No... I'm starting to think, at some point, I did..."

Silence settled between them. After a few moments, he spoke again, "I know she thinks I don't care."

"I know she probably thinks work always came first." He swallowed.

"The truth is..." He searched for the words carefully, almost as if saying them incorrectly now would somehow make the past worse. "I spent so much of her childhood trying to build a career that would make her proud- something that could guarantee she was taken care of."

His eyes drifted toward the department.

"I thought if I worked hard enough, she'd understand someday." A quiet, self-deprecating laugh escaped him. "I put a lot of faith in 'someday.'"

Dana didn't interrupt. She knew better.

"I kept thinking there'd be more time." His voice became distant, like he wasn't talking to Dana anymore, like he was talking to every version of himself that had made the same promise.

"When she graduated, when residency was over, when she wasn't so busy... When I wasn't." He shook his head slowly, his gaze lingered on nothing in particular.

Almost too quietly, he continued. "There was always another milestone we'd get through first."

Another long silence, then, almost too quietly, "I think what she saw..." He looked down at his hands, "was me making time for everyone else."

"Jake," The name alone seemed to hurt him to say in this context. "I coached his rec league team one summer."

His voice was full of disbelief, like he still couldn't reconcile the memory.

"I was there- I knew his friends, I helped him with homework." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Y/n was already a senior by then, I'm pretty sure."

"I told myself it was different- she didn't need me in the same way." The words sounded hollow even to him as he looked back at Dana.

"She was independent... had her own life." Even as he said it, he could hear how empty the justification sounded.

"I thought giving her space was what a good father did." He laughed once, no humor in it. He stopped, his eyes glassed over. "And then one day I looked up and realized I'd learned more about someone else's kid in six months than I'd learned about my own daughter in six years."

Dana's heart sank. She knew he wasn't exaggerating, wasn't trying to make himself look guilty. Robby had an epiphany, simply reaching a conclusion he'd spent years avoiding. He sat quietly with it for another few seconds before speaking again, almost like he was thinking out loud.

"I don't think she ever cared that I was there for Jake..." He paused, processing something in real time. "I think she cared that I proved I could be."

Dana found you almost forty minutes later. You were pretending to organize the supply cart. She knew you were pretending because you'd been holding the same box of gauze for at least two minutes, flipping it over every few seconds

"You planning on counting every q-tip?" You looked over your shoulder. "...Maybe."

Dana smiled faintly. "You okay?"

"No." The honesty surprised both of you. She stepped beside you, and neither of you spoke for a while.

"I always feel guilty after we fight." Dana stayed silent, as she had for Robby, knowing just how alike you truly are.

"I know he loves me." Your voice cracked around the words. "I know that- I've never questioned that."

You stared down at the unopened box in your hands. "But loving someone and knowing them aren't the same thing."

Dana nodded once, humming softly.

"I don't want a different dad." You blinked hard.

"I just..." The words caught in your throat. "I want him to be curious."

Dana frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." You laughed at yourself. "I get so excited when I learn something new about him."

The books he was reading. The music he liked. The stories from residency he'd never told before. The weird fact that he couldn't stand olives but always picked them off pizza instead of just getting a frozen pizza without them.

"They're stupid little things, but I feel so special when he tells me about them... He gets so excited, and I just feel like the coolest person ever when I'm the one he decides to share things with- especially when they're little things."

Your voice cracked throughout the explanation, your sad smile dropping into a frown as you barely contained your tears.

"But every time I find one out, I think..." I think you actually like me. I think you like me as an individual and don't just love me as your kid. "Like I'm meeting him again as someone else."

You glanced up at Dana. "I want that from him."

You swallowed. "I want him to ask me what I'm listening to."

"What I do when I'm not here. What I like to cook. Who I spend time with."

"I want him to know me because he wants to." Not because he felt obligated. Not because you shared a last name. Just... because you were you. Your eyes filled despite your best efforts.

"I still get excited when he asks me anything that's not about medicine." You laughed through tears that had begun to overflow. "Do you know how pathetic that is?"

Dana reached over, taking the box of gauze from your hands before you crushed it completely.

"No." She spoke quietly. "I think it's incredibly human."

You looked away. The department buzzed around you. Patients arrived. Phones rang. Someone laughed somewhere down the hall. Life kept moving.

"I just wish..." You stopped, and Dana waited, patient as ever. You shook your head. "...I wish I could know him more sometimes."

"And I wish..." Your voice was barely above a whisper now, "he wanted to know me, too."

"Wish I could do nothing with you"

As much as you claimed to hate your birthday, you knew that wasn't entirely true. You hated what birthdays represented- the expectation, the waiting, the tiny, childish hope that maybe this year would feel different. Because some embarrassingly stubborn part of you still wanted to be celebrated... to be seen. Not with balloons or cake or some elaborate surprise. Just... known.

The problem was that admitting that out loud felt infinitely more humiliating than pretending you didn't care. Because then you'd have to explain what you wanted. You'd have to tell people how to love you... how celebrating you didn't have to mean going all out on an expensive gift or a massive party, but rather something thoughtful and that showed some effort.

The thought alone made your stomach turn, so you never asked. You shrugged off birthdays, not daring to even mention the date just to be safe. You rolled your eyes at cards even though you knew it was going straight into the box of notes and cards from everything else you refused to get rid of, thanking people with a soft, embarrassed smile.

"You should ask him." You looked up from the chart you'd been reading to where Dana stood across from you with two coffees in hand.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She held one out. "You've spent the last hour staring at him every time you think he isn't looking."

"I have not."

"You have." You accepted the coffee anyway, a slight raise to your brow.

"I don't know why you're acting like he's the one who has to make the first move."

You laughed quietly. "Because he forgot my birthday?"

Dana's expression softened. "I'm not talking about your birthday."

"'kay, well I am."

"I know, sure..." She leaned against the counter. "But I really don't think you are."

The words settled somewhere uncomfortably deep. Before you could answer, Dana spoke again, "Ask him to dinner."

You stared at her. "...What?"

"After shift." She shrugged. "Just dinner."

The idea was so absurd you almost laughed. "Dana."

"What?"

"He'd think I was dying." She smiled. "See? That's exactly my point."

You looked across the department. Robby was finishing a conversation with Whitaker, rubbing absently at the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted... older than he had this morning.

For a second, you tried to picture the two of you sitting across from each other at some diner. No pagers. No patients. No charts. Just dinner. The image hurt more than you expected.

You honestly couldn't remember the last time you had dinner, just the two of you. What would you even talk about? Would he even care to talk to you about anything that wasn't related to medicine? What would he order? Did he still drown his fries in pepper? Would he still let you steal a bite off his plate without asking, or would he scold you instead of laughing and stealing a bite off yours?

You wanted to tell him about your apartment and how you'd finally started decorating. About the herbs you'd somehow managed to keep alive for six months. About the niche anime Mel had gotten you hooked on.

You wanted to know what he'd been reading lately. Whether or not he was sleeping any better. If he still listened to that old jazz station on his drive home when it rained.

You wanted all the little things. The things people learned accidentally when they loved each other loudly. You wanted to do absolutely nothing with your dad and know absolutely everything.

That felt impossible.

Dana nudged your shoulder. "You don't have to solve twenty years tonight." You looked down into your coffee. "Just ask him to dinner."

You took a slow breath, then another. "...Okay."

The word came out so quietly it barely sounded like you. Dana smiled, clapping a hand on your shoulder hard enough to make you flinch.

Across the department, Robby looked up just as you started walking toward him. He offered a tired smile when he saw you coming, your heart immediately started pounding.

Maybe this could be different. Maybe this could be the start of something. You had no idea that before the night was over, it would become the worst fight either of you had ever had.

"Leave it all on the table"

You almost turned around twice. The first time was because you caught sight of Whitaker asking Robby something on the other side of the department. The second because you convinced yourself this had been a terrible idea from the start.

Dana, who'd apparently decided she was emotionally invested in this now, caught your eye from the charge desk. She made a tiny motion with her head, telling you to go. You shot her a look that very clearly communicated I'm going to kill you later, and she just smiled. Traitor.

You waited until Robby had stepped into one of the empty consult rooms to finish a phone call before following a minute later, lingering awkwardly in the doorway until he noticed you.

He took in how you tried to contain your anxious fidgeting and doe-eyed, patient stare, and his own expression softened. "Hey."

"Hey."

He tucked his phone into his pocket. "You need something?"

Your stomach immediately tightened, not necessarily affected by the words themselves, but by how casual he sounded. How gentle he seemed to be trying to be.

"I, uh..." God. Why was this so hard? You cleared your throat. "I was wondering..."

He waited patiently, which was quite uncharacteristic- especially when he was working- especially when it came to you.

"...if you wanted to grab dinner after shift." For a second, he just looked at you, then he smiled so softly it hurt your heart.

"Yeah." The answer came easily. "I'd like that, sweetheart."

Your shoulders loosened before you even realized they'd been tense, your eyes stinging with emotion you didn't even acknowledge had been bubbling in your chest. "Okay."

"Okay." Robby nodded as an awkward silence settled between you. Neither of you moved. It almost felt... Normal. Like what you assumed a good relationship between a parent and their child would feel like. Robby rubbed the back of his neck.

"I know today's been..." He searched for the word. "...weird."

Your smile faded. He noticed. "I didn't like how we left things earlier."

"I don't either." Another brief moment of silence hung between you, as if you were both still scared of saying something that could set off a land mine.

"I figured maybe we could just..." He shrugged. "Talk."

The word lodged somewhere behind your ribs. Talk. Finally. You nodded. "Yeah... yeah, I'd like that."

He let out a small breath. "Good."

Then, trying to lighten the mood in the way fathers often do when they're uncomfortable, he smiled again. "Maybe after we've both had something to eat."

You huffed a quiet laugh. "Probably."

"You're always in a better mood after food."

The comment should've been harmless, you knew he meant it as such, but something about it cracked open the frustration you'd been trying to keep contained all day. You should've just let it go... you knew he was just joking. But part of you thought maybe he was trying to drive you insane at this point. That he was acting clueless and throwing out harmless jokes that he knew would send you over the edge.

Of course, he thought you were just hungry. Just tired. Just irritable after a long shift. Just like every other argument you'd ever had. You stared at him for a second longer than you meant to, and he noticed immediately. "What?"

"You really think that's what this is?"

His smile faltered. "What?"

"This." You gestured vaguely between the two of you. "You think I just need dinner?"

Confusion settled across his face, hands coming up in defense. "I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"I was making a joke."

"I know." Your voice was soft and breathy, filled with disappointment. Disappointed in your father for not getting it, and disappointed in yourself for being so sensitive.

"You alway make everything smaller than it is."

Silence lingered as Robby blinked. He shook his head slightly, clearly confused again, but aware that this was a touchy conversation again, "I wasn't trying to."

"I know." And somehow, again... that made it worse. Because if he wasn't trying, then this was just who the two of you were- a father who thought a meal could smooth over years, and a daughter who couldn't stop hearing dismissal where he meant comfort.

The room suddenly felt too small.

“You haven’t even said happy birthday to me yet...” Your composure cracks slightly- not anything noticeable to the general public, but the most obvious shift to a man who has watched you crumble many times over the years.

Robby’s face turns red, morphing from irritation to confusion and slight horror, “what’re you talking about?”

You let out a defeated sigh and glance away briefly, clenching your jaw and biting your cheek “it’s my fucking birthday, Dad…”

His brain short-circuited for a moment, practically resetting as you frowned in front of him, actively trying to push back a persistent wave of tears. It absolutely broke his heart.

“I know that- you think I don’t know that?” He closed in on you, lowering his chin as if making himself smaller would minimize the impact of the conversation.

“You’ve watched every other person in this hospital say something and all you did was give me a weak ass side hug! You didn't even say happy birthday to me...“ you felt like a child again as you began to break down in front of your father, the last bits of your tough exterior slipping away.

You really thought you’d have a better grip on your emotions when it came to him now, after so many years of rewriting your brain and spending time with people who actually put effort in knowing you. But it seems like you’ll always be that little girl who just desperately wants to be seen and understood by her father…

"Y/n, I knew it was your birthday the second I saw you this morning."

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

"I-" He stopped, brows pinched together as he replayed the day. The hug. Talking about dinner. The conversation outside CT. The argument. His stomach dropped. "...I thought I did."

"You didn't."

"I..." He swallowed. "I meant to."

You stared at him. "You meant to."

"I hugged you." He immediately felt shitty after saying it. I hugged you. And that should've meant something because we never hug anymore. What the fuck Robby?

"Okay?" you threw your arms up

"I figured I'd say it when things settled down." Your laugh was hollow. "We work in a hospital"

"Exactly- It got busy." You cut him off, "It always gets busy."

He rubbed a tired hand over his face. "I don't know what you want me to say right now except that I'm sorry."

"You're apologizing because you forgot to say the words-" You shook your head.

"I'm upset because if you actually remembered..." Your voice cracked. "...then that means you made a hundred different choices today where you still didn't say them."

Silence hung in the air as he floundered, trying to find the best thing to say, "I wasn't choosing not to..."

You let out another disbelieving laugh. "Dana made sure everyone who worked here knew it was my birthday..."

There was another long, guilty pause before you continued, "Mel brought me my exact coffee order, even though she doesn't even drink coffee so she would've had no reason to stop otherwise"

"Santos has been shoving birthday cake protein bars in my pockets all day, knowing I'm only gonna take a bite of one every two and a half hours"

"Whitaker got me a card and we're not even friends!" You looked him dead in the eye. "They didn't have 20 something years to remember me, and they still did something."

The words landed hard. "I remembered you."

The conviction returned to his voice for the first time in several minutes, like he was so sure you couldn't take this away from him.

"did you?"

"I remembered my daughter's birthday-"

"But not your daughter." Robby physically recoiled, the movement so instinctive it looked as though you'd shoved him backward. His jaw flexed once, then again, his lips parting before he could think of anything to say. For a brief, awful second, he simply stared at you, searching your face for some sign that you'd take it back. Instead, all he found were tears.

"That is not what this is." His voice had become firmer now, steadier, like he was trying to hold onto the conversation before it slipped completely out of his hands.

"Then what is it?"

"It's me making a mistake, Y/n." You shook your head at the rise in his tone. "It's you making the same mistake that you've been making."

His expression shifted. The guilt that had been sitting plainly on his face all morning slowly began giving way to something else. No matter what he said, Robby knew it wasn't reaching you, and he unfortunately could breathe through his own frustrations for so long.

"I said I was sorry."

"I know."

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"You don't know?" your voice cracked with disbelief

"No, I don't!" His voice came up for the first time. "Because every time I think I understand why you're upset, you tell me it's actually about something else."

"It is about something else!" The words ripped out of you before you could try to calm yourself down, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you'd been trying to keep buried.

"Then tell me what it is!" His own voice climbed to meet yours. Even though he hadn't changed much, he had gotten better about yelling- but old habits die hard. His hands came up for only a second before dropping back to his sides, fingers flexing against his scrub pants.

There was desperation there now, replacing the measured patience he'd walked into the room with. He was carefully balancing the need to win and the want to understand.

"I HAVE BEEN." Your answer echoed off the walls, louder than you'd intended. You could feel your throat burning already, your chest tightening with every breath. Tears blurred your vision again, but you refused to wipe them away.

"You keep talking in circles!"

"Because you keep missing the point!" You took an involuntary step toward him, the space between you shrinking without either of you realizing it. It wasn't threatening. It was pleading.

"You won't let me fix it!" The words came out sharper than he'd intended.

"You can't fix something you still don't understand!" The words echoed between you, neither of you noticing how loud you'd become.

Robby took one slow breath, forcing himself back down. "Help me understand."

You looked at him- really looked at him- and for just a second... you almost opened up. Almost told him that it wasn't about birthdays, that it was about years of feeling invisible. About every little girl moment that had quietly accumulated into this one. But then he beat you to the punch

"I can't fix twenty years in one conversation." Something in you hardened immediately. "I didn't ask you to."

"No?" His own patience was beginning to fray now. "Because that's what this feels like."

"You don't get to decide what this feels like for me."

"And you don't get to decide that nothing I've done since then matters." The room fell silent. "I have spent years trying."

"You think so?" You laughed bitterly. "You have no idea who I am."

"I am standing here trying to know you!" Robby was practically pleading at this point, his tone shifting from begging to anger, giving you emotional whiplash.

"No, you're trying to stop feeling guilty!" The words hit harder than you intended. Robby actually flinched and froze in his place, as if your words had tranqulizised him.

"I am trying to be your father."

"You had twenty-five years to do that."

"I had a job!"

"You had plenty of time play house with someone else's family!" There was a chilling silence. You knew it was a low blow- it was a sore subject to this day, though it was much worse back when it was active and fresh. However, you didn't even let Robby try to defend himself from that one, "Every other parent in this hospital was just as busy-"

"I was trying to keep a roof over your head!"

"I would've traded the house for you!" The sentence hung between you like smoke. Robby looked at you as though you'd slapped him. His voice, when it came, was quieter than it had been all day. "I don't think you mean that."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I absolutely do." He shook his head. "No. You don't get to rewrite your childhood because you're angry."

Your eyes widened. "Rewrite it?"

"That's exactly what you're doing right now."

"No, I'm telling you how it felt." "And I'm telling you that's not the whole story."

"You think I don't know that?" Your voice cracked. "I know you loved me, Dad... I know you worked hard. I know you thought you were doing the right thing- but none of that changes what it was like to be your daughter."

Robby dragged both hands over his face- he looked truly exhausted. "I don't know what you want from me anymore, Y/n. I just don't know-"

"I want you to stop defending yourself long enough to hear me."

"I have been hearing you."

"No-"

"I have-"

"No, you've been waiting for your turn to explain why none of this is actually your fault." Something finally snapped.

"ENOUGH" The single word cut through the room. "I have apologized. I have listened. I have admitted I made mistakes."

His breathing had quickened now. "But every time I take one step toward you, you move the finish line."

He looked at you with tears gathering in his own eyes, voice breaking as he spoke "So tell me...what exactly would ever be enough?"

You opened your mouth, but were left without an answer. There unforutnaltey wasn't anything he could give you in that moment that would ease the heartache you've been harboring.

He nodded once, slow and defeated "That's what I thought."

He turned toward the door. "You know what I think?"

He didn't look back as his hand settled on the doorknob. "I think you've spent so long defining yourself by everything I got wrong... that you've forgotten to leave room for anything I've tried to get right."

Another beat. "And that's not all on me anymore."

The words landed like a knife. "You don't have to forgive me."

His voice was almost hollow now. "But at some point, you have to decide whether you actually want a father..."

Finally, he looked over his shoulder. "...or whether you'd rather keep punishing the one you've got."

It was cruel, Robby knew that. He knew the words would hurt you, especially because they weren't true and especially because you'd already been harboring the guilt of a child who felt responsible for the feelings of every adult in her life.

He saw it on your face and immediately regretted letting the words slip out. The devastation dragging your lips into a permanent frown, and you eyes into the saddest, most disappointed gaze. The way your shoulders caved inward. The tears that stopped looking angry and started looking heartbroken.

For one impossible second, he almost took it back. Instead, he looked away. More tears fell freely as Robby turned around and took a few steps toward the door. His hand twisted the knob, about to pull it open.

"Yeah?" you sobbed, sniffling and taking a deep breath before shouting with your whole chest, "WELL, YOU'RE NOT THAT FUCKING GREAT EITHER"

Your throat hurt, raw from a combination of the crying and screaming, and sore from the tension of holding everything in for so long. Your father stilled, practically frozen. He didn't flinch, didn't sigh, he didn't even tilt his head back in your direction. Robby just opened the door and walked out.

The click of the door echoed far louder than it should have, and then there was nothing. No hospital chaos or background noise, just you.

Your knees gave out before you even realized they were shaking. You caught yourself on the edge of the counter, your breathing ragged as another sob tore its way out of your chest.

How had dinner plans turned into this? How had wanting your dad to care somehow become telling each other the worst things you'd ever thought?

You squeezed your eyes shut. You'd finally done it this time... You left it all on the table- every moment you'd spent wondering why everyone else seemed to know him better than you did. every awful, ugly thought you'd buried because saying them out loud made them real. And yes, you still didn't feel any lighter, just hollow.

A quiet knock sounded against the door. You didn't answer. It opened anyway. Dana's face fell the second she saw you. "Oh, sweetheart..."

She crossed the room in two quick steps, wrapping you in a hug before you could protest. You folded into her, sobs immediately picking back up.

"I ruined it," you whimpered into her shoulder.

"No." you felt her shake her head

"I did- I did. I ruined it." Your voice cracked. She shook her head again, gentler this time, "You had a fight."

"I said horrible things."

"So did he."

"I don't know if he even wants me around anymore." Dana pulled back just enough to look at you. "I have known your father for a long time, Sweetheart... he's not leaving you behind cuz of one bad fight."

You sniffled. "He walked out."

"I know."

"He just..." Your breathing hitched again. "...he walked away."

Dana's expression softened with something that looked almost like sadness. "He walked away because if he'd stayed another minute, one of you would've said something neither of you could survive."

You crumpled in on yourself even more at that, devastated by his lack of patience and understanding. For his lack of wanting to be better and kinder.

She brushed a tear from your cheek with her thumb. "Leaving wasn't the worst thing he did today."

"No."

"It wasn't."

"But I don't think it was because he stopped loving you."

"I don't think he ever will..." You looked down at your shoes, "I just don't know if he likes me."

The confession was so quiet Dana almost missed it. It wasn't the kind of fear a twenty-something-year-old should still be carrying. But there it was- small and fragile, waiting years to be spoken. Dana's heart broke all over again.

"Oh..." She pulled you into another hug. "I think he loves you so much that somewhere along the way he forgot you needed him to show it."

You cried harder, because that was somehow much worse.

Down the hall, Robby stood alone outside the staff exit. His keys sat uselessly in his hand, he couldn't even make himself walk to the parking lot.

The words replayed mercilessly. I would've traded the house for you. You have no idea who I am. But not your daughter. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and when he finally lowered them, they were wet. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried at work.

A nurse walked past, offering him a polite nod, he returned it automatically, then leaned against the wall once she was gone.

He'd forgotten to say happy birthday. Two words. Two stupid words. And somehow they'd unearthed twenty years of grief he hadn't realized his daughter was still carrying.

He thought about turning around, going back, apologizing again, maybe finally saying it the right way. Instead, he pictured your face after the last thing he'd said. The way you'd looked at him... You weren't angry, you were heartbroken and devastated.

His own stomach twisted.

Some apologies were too small for the damage already done. He couldn't apologize again tonight. Tonight, anything else he said would only make it worse.

So, for the first time in his life, Michael Robinavitch did the one thing he had always hated doing... he admitted to himself that he had absolutely no idea how to fix the person he loved most.

Long after the department had quieted, long after the birthday cake had been wrapped in foil and forgotten in the break room refrigerator, long after the night shift had settled into its own rhythm...

There sat an untouched dinner invitation between a father and a daughter. Neither of them hungry anymore. Neither of them knowing that wanting to be known had felt impossible only because neither believed the other person still wanted to learn.

And somewhere beneath all the anger... beneath every accusation, every missed birthday, every word they wished they could take back... that was all either of them had ever really wanted.

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You walked in, hair styled out of your face but in a way that made you feel confident, brand-new top worn under your scrubs. You knew better than anyone that this look wouldn't last, but it was something to boost your morale and help ease the soul-crushing anxiety that had been weighing on your chest since you went out to dinner with your father and now- coworkers, over a week ago.

"There she is!" the thick, charming Pittsburgh accent you'd always been comforted by, doing just that as you attempted to maintain confidence. Your perfect posture dropped momentarily as the tension released from your spine, a natural grin of relief finding its way upon your lips.

"Well, hello, Charge Nurse Dana Evans." you mocked a professional greeting, causing Dana's already present smile to brighten as she set down her chart and swung around the nurses' station to greet you.

"Dr. Y/n L/n-" She slung an arm over your shoulder before leaning in to mumble in your ear, "Or are you going back to Robinavitch?"

You tensed slightly, giving her a dramatic grimace, "definitely not- for so many reasons, Dana"

You chuckled as she pulled you into a full hug, "Excited to have you back with us, sweetheart... you're gonna do great."

You squeezed her in return, your breath hitting her collarbone as your face fell into the slope of her shoulder. You wished you could stay there, but you reminded yourself you had people to prove wrong (your father), and that wasn't going to be achieved by staying in Dana Evans's arms for the entirety of your first shift.

"Feel the rush of my blood, I'm seventeen again"

a few moments passed- you greeted Princess and Perlah in casual Tagalog, to which they excitedly greeted back and joked about how you'd been practicing. You caught up with them and told them all about your extensive language studies throughout college and how they inspired you to give Tagalog a try.

The next interaction came from none other than Jack Abbot- a carefree arm tossed around your shoulder, causing you to jump before realizing who it was, "Try not to give your old man a hard time today, okay?"

He said with a teasing smirk, but it landed sourly, leaving a slight burn in your stomach. You didn't react physically, giving an easy, semi-shy smile as you leaned into him.

The warmth and comfort of your found family slipped away as your father approached, chatting with a guy with blonde curly hair and a girl with a dark ponytail. You felt Abbot's arm tighten around your shoulder in a brief reassuring squeeze before it fell back to his side.

Robby finally made eye contact with you, seemingly halting in his conversation long enough for the two trailing behind him to notice. They looked in your direction as well, but before either could say anything, Robby resumed, leading them to the center of the ED and calling out to gather everyone to join them.

Robby waited until the crowd had gathered before clearing his throat.

"Alright. Quick rundown before everybody scatters." The room quieted as you shifted your weight anxiously. Same ED. Same people. Different role. You tried to remind yourself that while you may not have been here, you still have experience, and knowing many of these people will only make the blend easier

Robby launched into his usual briefing, discussing staffing assignments, patient volume, bed shortages, and all the things that made emergency medicine feel like controlled chaos.

You tried focusing on his words, but all you could think about was the fact that every single person standing around you already knew who you were- and not as a doctor, or even just a med student, but as Dr. Robby's kid.

"And one more thing." Your stomach dropped. Robby glanced down at his clipboard.

"We have a new medical student starting with us today." You tried to resist the visceral reaction your nerves were sending to your brain when Robby looked directly at you.

"Most of you already know Y/n." Several people smiled, a few waved, others looked reasonably lost, as you forced a professional smile in return.

"She's rotating with us for emergency medicine." You thought it was going to end there- it probably should've ended there...

"Obviously there's a potential conflict of interest." Your smile vanished as the room got quieter.

"So for everyone's sake, including hers, I'm going to be very clear-" you could see Dana and Abbot tense from where they stood slightly off your father's shoulder.

"She won't be receiving any special treatment." Your jaw tightened. You tried to keep your gaze locked on him, to seem as unbothered as you should be, but you could see Samira wince silently out of the corner of your eye, already knowing this wasn't going to go over well.

"Nobody needs to cut her any slack because she's my daughter." Heat crawled up your neck.

"Matter of fact-" Robby continued, somehow making it worse, "if anything, I'd encourage people to hold her to a higher standard."

A few awkward chuckles sounded. Fuck, you wanted to disappear all over again. Robby didn't notice- or maybe this was one of those times where he did notice and didn't know how to stop.

"She's smart, but she's also stubborn." Jack immediately ran a hand down his face, shifting in his stance.

"And she has a tendency to think she knows more than she does." Dana let out a deep sigh, her hands clasped in front of her as she dropped her head momentarily, shaking it in disappointment.

And suddenly there it was- that familiar burn you'd been carrying since you were fifteen, settled right into your chest. You bit the inside of your cheek, hard enough to taste the metallic flavor of blood, while the room remained quiet for a beat too long.

"She's capable," he continued, almost as if he was trying to convince everyone else of your skills rather than himself.

"Just don't let her talk you into thinking she knows more than she does." A few scattered laughs followed. Your face felt hot as you stared at a spot somewhere behind him. You could feel Dana looking at you, and could feel Abbott looking at Robby. You refused to look at either of them.

The worst part was that none of it sounded particularly cruel if someone didn't know better. To everyone else, it probably sounded like harmless teasing, father-daughter banter. Ya know, the kind of thing families did!

But Dana knew. Jack knew. Frank knew. Samira knew. And judging by the uncomfortable expression on Princess's face, fuck, she probably knew something wasn't sitting right either.

Your jaw tightened- you forced yourself to relax it... then tightened it again.

Robby finally looked up from his clipboard. "Anyway."

A pause. His eyes met yours as he seemingly held his breath for a second before diverting his attention elsewhere to wrap up his speech. "We have a busy shift ahead of us. Questions?"

Nobody spoke as he looked around, eyes not even stopping on you as he surveyed the crowd.

"Good." He clapped his hands once. "Let's get to work."

Conversations resumed as the group immediately began breaking apart, people scattering toward their assignments. You stayed exactly where you were, still, silent, biting the inside of your cheek raw.

Dana appeared at your side almost instantly, her shoulder gently bumping yours. You glanced over as she raised an eyebrow. You offered a smile- a fake one, of course- but a smile nonetheless. The same one you'd been giving adults since you were thirteen years old, that said "please don't make a thing out of this".

Dana's expression softened, an understanding nod bobbing her head, "alright..."

Before she could say anything else, a familiar voice called your name, "Hey, troublemaker."

You looked up just in time for Frank Langdon to throw an arm around your shoulders, the tension in your chest loosening immediately.

"Frank." You rolled your eyes, sarcasm and annoyance dripping from your voice, but the soft smile on your face betrayed your true feelings.

"There she is." He gave your shoulder a squeeze, shaking you around a bit. "Took you long enough!"

You rolled your eyes, "I literally just got here."

"Yeah, six years late." That earned a genuine laugh from you. Samira appeared beside him, smiling warmly, "We've been waiting."

Your expression softened as you escaped Langdon's hold to throw your arms around Mohan's shoulders, burying your face in her neck. "I missed you guys. So much..."

"We know," Frank said cockily, hands behind his head. "The department's morale has been terrible without you."

"You are so full of shit."

"Language." You barked out a laugh, the familiar rhythm of the interaction settling your nerves almost instantly.

Samira glanced between you and the dispersing crowd. "You okay?"

The question was gentle, dangerously so. You immediately looked away. "Yep."

Both of them stared, neither believing you. Frank opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it, deciding against whatever he was about to say. Instead, he hooked a thumb toward the hallway. "Well, lucky for you, you don't have to deal with me today."

"Oh?"

"Robby's got you working with Whitaker and Javadi." Your smile froze, not quite dropping, just wavering slightly in confusion, "Oh."

Frank laughed, "Oh, don't sound so excited."

To be honest, you really weren't. Not anymore, at least. All of your excitement to get to know people vanished the second Robby let everyone know you were related. You were kind of hoping to just follow Langdon or Mohan around for the day and occasionally hop in with someone else when you found your rhythm.

"I just don't know who those people are."

"You will."

"That's usually how meeting people works, Frank."

"Good point." Samira shook her head fondly, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving you a small, pained smile, "Good luck."

You frowned, "That didn't feel very reassuring..."

"It wasn't really supposed to be." Before you could respond, two figures approached from the opposite side of the nurses' station.

The blonde guy from earlier and a shorter girl wearing a purple zip up, both looking equally as awkward. They both hovered slightly, looking at each other to see who would speak first. They looked helplessly back at you as you raised a brow.

The girl offered her hand first, "Victoria Javadi. I'm also a student doctor- second year here!"

You smiled politely and shook it, "Y/n L/n."

A small smile tugged at her lips, the rest of her starting to relax now that she's seen you smile, "Nice to officially meet you."

The blonde stepped forward next, "Dennis Whitaker. First year resident"

You shook his hand as well. "Nice to meet you."

Whitaker opened his mouth to say something, then halted. He glanced over toward where Robby had disappeared, then back at you, seemingly processing his observations in front of you. "I didn't know Dr. Robby had a daughter."

"Huh... no kidding," you snarked, crossing your arms. Whitaker immediately felt like it was the wrong conversation starter after seeing you close yourself off again.

"Uh... so... are you Jake's sister?" You scoffed and chuckled humorlessly. "No. Love that kid- but no..."

More awkward tension hung in the air for a moment or two before you elaborated.

"Dr. Robby is my biological father, which is unfortunately why I am as fucked as I am." You deliver it with a dryness that Dennis isn't really sure whether or not it's okay to laugh.

A short, awkward silence followed. Whitaker glanced at Javadi- she glanced back at him- neither of them seemed entirely sure how to respond to that.

Finally, Dennis let out a small laugh through his nose, "Well... at least you're self-aware."

"Years of therapy." That got a slightly bigger laugh out of both of them, the tension easing a little, even though they were both still a little unsure of whether you were joking or not.

You exhaled deeply and began heading in the opposite direction "Sooooo... Trauma three?"

"Uh yeah-" Javadi nodded, glancing quickly to the doctor beside her, still a little nervous to interact with you. "Yes. Your dad just put us on the same patient."

"right..."

Your first patient went smoothly, and the day picked up after that.

Patients blurred together, labs were drawn, consults were called. You spent most of your shift trying not to think about your father's introduction and focusing instead on proving that you actually belonged there.

A few hours in, while waiting for updated imaging on one of your patients, you found yourself staring up at the tracking board.

"Man..." the intimidating girl with the dark hair stationed herself next to you with her hands in her pockets, "I knew Dr. Robby was a misogynist, but I didn't think he'd be an asshole to his own daughter."

She tried to joke, staring at your side profile until you slowly turned your gaze to catch her with an unimpressed brow raise and a slightly irritated quirk of your lip

"Yeah... he's... he's something." You didn't give her much, going back to looking up at the patient board. She stood beside you for a moment, then shifted to face you, leaning against the wall.

"Trinity Santos." She extended her hand straight out, looking effortlessly cool with one leg propped on the wall behind her. You couldn't help the tiny amused smirk that peeked out as you shook her hand.

"Y/n."

"So I've heard." You rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, well, apparently you're the first," Santos snorted.

"Honestly, kinda hard not to know about you when half the department practically raised you." That caught you slightly off guard, her casualness and lack of pity or awkward sympathy something you weren't necessarily used to.

"You're the first person who's said that without making me feel weird about it."

"Well I mean- it is weird." You barked out a laugh, and Santos grinned, letting your laughter hang for a brief moment before continuing

"I mean, seriously. I've worked here for two years, and every third person I meet has some story about you."

"Oh God, they do not-" you crossed your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes slightly, the small smile still on your face

"'Y/n used to sit at the nurses' station and do homework.'" You groaned at her first impression of some other staff member

"'Y/n used to sneak extra pudding cups from the patient fridge.'"

"I was eight-"

"'Y/n got suspended for punching a kid who made fun of Dana.'"

"Okay, that one was justified."

Santos pointed at you immediately. "See? That's exactly what Dana said."

You laughed despite yourself, the tension in your shoulders easing for the first time all day. Trinity noticed, and her expression softened slightly.

"Can I be honest?" You hesitated, already preparing to pull up another wall, even though she never really broke through the first one. "Depends."

She hummed, "Fair."

A beat passed.

"That introduction this morning was kind of fucked." Your eyes immediately flicked toward her. You waited for the usual follow-up- some sort of excuse or justification- but the "he means well" never came.

Santos just shrugged. "Maybe that's not my business."

"No..." you said slowly. "I mean, it kinda is now."

She nodded. "Then yeah. It was weird."

You let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "Thank you."

Santos frowned, brows furrowing. "For what?"

"For not immediately defending him." That seemed to genuinely surprise her.

"Why would I do that?" You stared at her, she stared back, and suddenly you realized how ridiculous the statement sounded outside the context of your life.

Santos shook her head, "Look, Robby's a good doctor."

You immediately braced yourself, "But being a good doctor doesn't automatically make someone a good parent."

Your eyebrows shot up. The woman beside you shrugged. "What?"

"No, it's just..." you laughed softly. "Most people here don't say stuff like that."

"Yeah? Well, they should." You laughed again- a real, tickled laugh, leaving Santos smiling slightly, pleased with herself. The two of you stood there for a moment, looking up at the patient board.

"Wanna hit 14 with me?" she asked as she started to back away. The small smile still on your lips as you replied, "Sure."

The silence wasn't awkward anymore as the two of you began heading toward the patient. In fact, it was surprisingly comfortable.

"You know," Santos said eventually, "I actually thought you were gonna be terrifying."

You glanced over, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, "Me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" She deadpanned.

"Because you're Robby's daughter and Langdon talks about you like you're some mythical creature."

You burst out laughing, "Oh my God!"

"'The legendary Y/n, resident golden child, is coming back.'" you rolled your eyes, grinning because that is definitely something he'd say

"Well, for starters i was never a golden child-" Santos cut you off with a raise of her brow

"Not in the eyes of Frank Langdon- 'You guys are gonna love Y/n.'"

You laughed as she continued to imitate him, making her voice a little deeper and raspier and moving her hands around rapidly to mock his excitement

"'Y/n's gonna fix this place!'" That one got you a little bit. You knew that one was likely very true because it's the same thing Frank and Samira would tell you when you were having a hard time in school. They didn't even necessarily mean the Pitt itself, but wherever you ended up, you were bound to make it a better place.

You ran a hand over your face as you shook your head, "Frank is such a loser."

"He really is." You shook your head, still laughing, and for the first time all day, you found yourself genuinely glad you'd come back.

"I am not scared of death, I've got dreams again"

The patient wasn't supposed to be complicated, at least that's what you thought when Trinity dragged you into the room.

The woman was somewhere in her forties, complaining of abdominal pain and nausea- nothing immediately alarming. She was talking, laughing with you, even. Her vitals weren't perfect, but they weren't horrible either. It should've been straightforward.

You and Trinity introduced yourselves, asked your questions, and did your exam as usual. The patient answered easily enough, but something about it made your stomach twist. A gut feeling, a nagging little voice, the same one that had followed you throughout school whenever something didn't fit quite right.

You glanced toward Trinity, "Can you pull up her labs again?"

Trinity raised a brow but complied. You looked through them once, rescanned them again, and then even a third time.

"What?" Trinity asked, and could only give her a frown before mumbling, "I don't know yet."

You obviously hated that answer as much as she did. You wanted something concrete, but more so, you wanted to be wrong. However, the feeling persisted, so you dug deeper. You asked more questions, pulled up older records, looked through previous visits, and slowly the picture started coming together.

It wasn't enough to diagnose anything, but enough to know that something wasn't right. Enough to know she needed more attention than she'd been getting, and enough to make you seek out an attending. Unfortunately, that attending happened to be your father...

You found him halfway through charting. "Dad-"

Robby looked up immediately before you even had time to cringe at yourself, "Dr. Robinavitch."

His expression shifted slightly. "What've you got?"

You launched into your presentation- professional, organized, concise. You explained your findings and concerns, along with your reasoning, never once pausing or shifting your tone to look for reassurance. You didn't try to convince him you were right, you were simply presenting a patient, the way you'd done hundreds of times before and would continue to do

And Robby just stared. He couldn't help it because, for a moment, he forgot to listen. Not completely- he didn't entirely shut you out and ignore the case you were presenting- he still followed and understood what you were saying, but part of his brain got stuck somewhere else.

You sounded different. Not like the angry teenager who used to scream at him across the kitchen. Not like the little girl who followed him around the hospital asking a million questions. Not like the daughter he'd spent years failing to understand.

You sounded like a doctor- not even a med student, but an experienced doctor. Confident. Capable. Comfortable... like you belonged there.

It shouldn't have shocked him. Obviously, he knew you were in medical school, and it was only natural for you to feel comfortable in this environment since you were already pretty familiar.

He knew you'd excelled in school and that you'd worked your ass off to get there... but knowing something and seeing it were two entirely different things.

You wrapped up your presentation of the patient's case, and Robby just blinked, then nodded, "Alright. Let's take another look."

You exhaled, shoulders dropping slightly as the tension released, and followed him back to the room. The concern ended up being justified- she wasn't crashing over dying, but she was significantly sicker than everyone initially believed.

And as you spoke to the patient with the confidence of a seasoned professional and the kindness of a rookie, Robby couldn't stop watching you.

He was completely enamored by how clearly you'd explained things, answered every single question she had with ease, and even made her laugh once despite the circumstances.

And suddenly he wasn't looking at a student anymore- he wasn't even looking at a doctor- he was looking at his daughter.

His daughter.

The little girl who used to sit at Dana's desk, coloring while he finished charts. The little girl who made him drawings for his office. The little girl who begged him to come to softball games and school events and college visits. The little girl he'd spent years disappointing.

And somehow... somehow you still became this. This kind, brilliant, resilient young woman. Everything he'd ever wanted for you. Everything you were able to accomplish without him.

The realization hit so hard it nearly knocked the air from his lungs, because when had this happened? When had you grown up? When had you become someone he admired? When had he stopped being the center of your world?

The answer was pretty obvious...

Years ago, while he was busy working, grieving, making excuses. Busy missing everything revolving around you. All while you were busy with the same things, and he didn't even stop to think how badly you needed him. Robby felt his throat tighten.

You turned slightly, asking Trinity something about the patient's imaging. Your movements were so familiar. Your expression, the way you pushed your hair behind your ear. For one impossible second, he saw both versions of you at once- the child and the doctor- and it nearly brought him to tears.

Holy shit. That's my little girl... and she's incredible!

The patient ended up being transferred upstairs about an hour later, stable, monitored, and taken seriously, which was all anyone could really ask for.

"There is meaning on Earth, I am happy"

You finished documenting your portion of the consult while Trinity wrapped up the last few loose ends. The two of you made your way out into the hallway, exhaustion already beginning to settle into your shoulders.

"See?" Trinity nudged your arm lightly. "You didn't kill anybody on your first day."

"This shift is far from over Dr. Santos" she chuckled, hands holding onto the stethoscope around her neck "Good point."

You both chuckled softly, easy grins remaining on your faces. The doors to the patient's room swung open behind you, and you stepped aside automatically to let staff pass, then froze as you realized it was your father.

Your stomach immediately tightened. Old habits. You waited for a correction, criticism of some sort- there had to be something you'd forgotten- something you'd done wrong.

Robby looked between you and Trinity before settling his gaze on you, keeping it neutral as he held eye contact for a moment, then he cleared his throat.

"Good catch." You blinked. "What?"

"The patient." His voice was casual, matter-of-fact, like it was the most normal thing in the world- and to any other doctor or med student in this place, it would've been normal.

"You picked up on something everybody else missed."

The hallway suddenly felt too warm, "Oh."

Robby nodded once, awkward tension pulling his lips into a straight line, before he took a deep breath, "You did a good job."

Your breath caught in your throat as your heart stopped. No dramatic speech. No hug. No grand gesture. Just five words- that's what nearly did you in.

You did a good job.

The phrase hit you so hard it was almost embarrassing. How your eyes immediately widened and began to water, the pressure and sting in your nose like you were about to burst into tears at any second.

Logically, it shouldn't matter this much. You were twenty-something years old, you'd survived college, most of medical school, board exams, cross-country moves, heartbreak, loss- you didn't need your father's approval...

You didn't.

So why did it feel like somebody had reached into your chest and squeezed your heart?

"Oh." Brilliant response. You swallowed, "Thanks."

Robby nodded again, like he'd completed the task he'd set out to do, then glanced toward Trinity. "You too."

Trinity immediately looked delighted, "Thank you, Dr. Robby."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Oh, it already has." He shook his head, a small grin on his face as he started walking away. You watched him disappear around the corner as Trinity looked over. You were still staring after him, still trying to process what had just happened.

"You okay?" You blinked, not looking away from where your father had just disappeared. "Yeah."

Your voice came out softer than intended, but then you realized you were staring, and you cleared your throat, turning your attention to Trinity with a small, barely contained smile.

"Yeah. I'm good." Trinity studied you for a moment, then, mercifully, decided not to push.

"Cool." She bumped your shoulder. "C'mon, Doc"

The title made you laugh. You felt a little light-headed, the last hour and a half leaving you feeling lighter than you'd managed all day. As you followed her back toward the nurses' station, you found yourself smiling for no reason at all.

Trinity bumped your shoulder as the two of you approached the nurses' station. You were still trying not to think about what had just happened, but the words sat heavily in your chest.

Javadi looked up from the chart she was working on, her gaze flickering between you and Trinity, then narrowing slightly. "What happened?"

"What? Nothing," you answered immediately and Trinity snorted. "Something happened."

You shot her a look, but she just grinned. Javadi glanced between the two of you again, then her eyes widened.

"Oh my God." there was a pasuse as everyone waited to hear what she'd just figured out, "Did Dr. Robby compliment you??"

Your eyes widened as you visibly tensed, "Oh my God."

Trinity's smug grin only grew wider as she crossed her arms, "He did."

"He did not."

"He absolutely did." Trinity looked delighted as Dennis glanced up from the computer beside them. His attention drifted between the conversation for a moment before he quietly returned to whatever chart he was reviewing.

"He said I made a good catch- that's hardly a compliment."

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them as you watched Javadi's jaw drop semi-dramatically, a small quirk of her lip making it appear a bit more teasing than serious

"You got a 'good catch'?" You groaned and buried your face in your hands, leaning against the counter. "Please stop."

"A good catch is huge." Whitaker chimed in from his spot behind the desk, eyes unmoving from the screen, but his bottom lip jutted out in acknowledgment as he nodded slightly

You groaned again, slumping further against the counter, face fully leaning on it now, as Trinity looked downright fascinated by your embarassment

Victoria's expression softened slightly. "I get it."

You peeked over your arms at her. "My mom's like that."

You immediately straightened. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah." She leaned back in her chair. "If she compliments me, I remember it for like- six months."

Trinity barked out a laugh and Javadi pointed her gaze at her, "I'm serious!"

"No, I believe you."

"Like, logically, I know she loves me." "Right."

"But hearing approval from someone who taught you everything you know is..." She shrugged. "Different."

Something about that settled the strange feeling in your chest. It was nice to know someone understood. Not completely- nobody could- but enough that you didn't feel ridiculous for caring.

"That's actually a really good way to put it." Javadi smiled softly and shrugged

"Would you look at that," The familiar voice pulled your attention away from the chart in front of you. Samira Mohan stood at the opposite side of the nurses' station, coffee in hand, her warm gaze drifting between you, Javadi, Whitaker, and Santos. "Glad to see you're making friends already, Tweety Bird."

You squeezed your eyes shut, alreayd knowing when you opened them that you "new friends" would be giving you looks

"'Tweety Bird'?" Santos questioned, a teasing grin on her face.

You sighed and peeked at her, "It's a long story"

Samira laughed and came closer to the group, joining you and Trinity in leaning against the station, "Obviously we all call Robby "Robby"- but when Y/n was little, she just didn't get it, so everyone started calling her "Robin" to make her feel included-"

Trinity, Victoria, and Dennis were locked in on the lore of their newest coworker, "which eventually became "Birdie", cuz ya know- Robin the bird, duh. And then one day she came in wearing this bright yellow sweater-"

"It was a dress." you cut in, correcting the minor details in her retelling

"Right, a bright yellow dress- so Jessie started calling her "Tweety", and now it just rotates between those." She finished off, and everyone had some sort of amused expression, while you were trying to bury your embarrassment

"That's... honestly, adorable." Victoria was the only one to speak up

"Okay." Mohan chuckled softly as she threw an arm over your shoulder

"You look significantly less terrified than you did this morning." You immediately groaned. "Oh my God."

"What??"

"You could tell?" Samira raised a brow. "Y/n."

Fair enough. You sighed dramatically. "Okay, yeah. I was a little terrified."

"A little?" You shifted in her hold to bump against her, "Shut up."

The corner of her mouth twitched as she glanced around the station, before tilting her head slightly to speak quieter directly to you, "You surviving?"

You thought about it- about Trinity sort of taking you in, Javadi being someone you could relate to, the "good catch" you had a little bit ago, the fact that you hadn't completely embarrassed yourself yet... "Yeah."

This time the answer came easily. Your bottom lip jutted out as you nodded, "Actually... yeah."

Samira nodded once, her natural smile warming your heart, her expression reading like that was exactly what she'd been hoping to hear.

"Good." And that was it. She took a sip of coffee and immediately pivoted back to work.

"A minute from home but I feel so far from it"

Robby didn't get much time to think during a shift- that's one of the things he liked most about emergency medicine. There was no room for overthinking and hyperfixating, not when patients kept coming and nurses needed orders signed.

Thinking was dangerous and led to regrets if you spent too much time doing so... and Robby had enough of those already.

And yet, his eyes kept finding you- across the department, at the nurses' station, walking down hallways, laughing at something Trinity Santos had said. He told himself it was just his fatherly subconscious making sure you were alright.

Every time he looked, you seemed a little more comfortable- more settled- like you were starting to accept that you belonged here

The realization should've made him happy. Instead, it mostly made his chest hurt. "You look constipated."

Robby didn't bother looking up, "Good afternoon, Jack. Back so soon?"

Abbott slid into the chair beside him. "Seriously. What's wrong with you?"

Robby gave him a look, but said nothing, resuming looking over the chart he was about to hand off to another med student. Jack nodded, "Right."

Robby continued charting. Abbott continued existing- an unfortunately persistent habit, from Robby's perspective

"You know Dana almost threw a stapler at you this morning."

"She threatens that weekly."

"This time she meant it." That finally earned a reluctant snort, causing Abbott's expression to soften slightly. "You know you really embarrassed her."

There it was. Robby's slight smile disappeared completely, and his jaw tightened. "I introduced her."

For a moment, he genuinely seemed to be waiting for more, as if perhaps Robby would hear himself and realize how ridiculous that sounded.

When nothing came, Jack sighed, "You embarrassed her."

"I was trying to be professional." The defense sounded weak and dismissive, even to his own ears.

Abbott's brows shot up. "You told the entire department she thinks she knows everything."

Robby instinctively straightened his posture, walls visibly growing higher in his attempt to defend. "I said she was smart."

"Then immediately followed it up with an insult."

Robby sighed, rubbing his hands down his face, "Jesus Christ."

"I'm serious."

"So am I." Abbott leaned back in his chair, and for a moment neither spoke. Across the department, Y/n was talking with Javadi. Something made her laugh, and the sound carried farther than it should've.

Robby looked away first. Abbott noticed, as he always did and took a deep breath before leaning in and mumbling to his best friend, "I mean, c'mon man."

Robby closed the chart, already regretting where this conversation was headed." When was the last time you even talked to her before she got back?"

"Oh, fuck off." The response came out sharper than intended. Robby immediately sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "...I talk to my goddamn daughter."

"Okay." Jack held up both hands in surrender; the gesture would've been a lot more convincing if his expression hadn't remained completely unchanged. Neither man looked away as the silence stretched between them, long enough to become uncomfortable.

Then Jack leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees. "So when was the last time you saw her?"

The question landed harder than the last one. Robby's eyes flicked away instinctively, toward the nurses' station, then back toward the chart in front of him.

"'Cause most college kids come home for Thanksgiving." Robby's jaw flexed.

"Or winter break." His fingers tightened around the edge of his chair.

"Or the three months between school years for the summer." Abbott's voice remained calm and soft, nothing accusatory about it, which made Robby feel so much worse than if Jack had just yelled at him and called him an asshole.

"Why didn't she?" Robby immediately opened his mouth, ready this time with an explanation- An excuse. A defense. He always had one... But it didn't matter, because Abbott cut him off before he could get a word out.

"No, seriously." The teasing was entirely gone now. "Why haven't any of us seen her in six years?"

Robby felt something unpleasant twist in his stomach. Across the department, somebody called for a nurse, a monitor alarm chimed. The hospital kept running and neither acknowledged it in the moment

"The kid's studying her ass off to become a fucking doctor-" Jack shook his head. "And you're telling me she hasn't talked to any of us?"

The emphasis on us wasn't accidental; Robby knew that. "She was practically raised here, Michael."

The use of his first name made him finally look up to see that Abbott was watching him carefully now. Not angry, not even a little bit, just concerned. Which was always harder to stomach.

"You think we don't know her?" A painful silence hung for what felt like forever

"You think we don't know you?" The silence after that felt suffocating. Robby was once again the one to look away first. His hand dragged slowly over his face, the stubble scratched against his palm.

"I went to her graduation." The second the words left his mouth, he knew how weak they sounded. Abbott stared at him like he was waiting for the punchline.

"Robby." His voice was almost disbelieving. "Are you serious right now?"

"Yes," The answer came quicker than intended, immediate and defensive. "I'm being serious."

"That was over two years ago." Robby looked down, and Abbott sat back in his chair. The disappointment on his face somehow hurt worse than the frustration.

"You're telling me you haven't taken the time to check in on her in person?"

"She's in med school." Robby's voice rose slightly, more frustrated now than angry; more embarrassed than frustrated.

"That girl doesn't have any time for me." Abbott blinked slowly, mouth slightly agape as he furrowed his brows, like he'd just heard the dumbest thing imaginable.

"You don't think she'd make time?" The question lingered as neither of them spoke again. It was a bit strained, and Robby could tell Jack was using all his willpower not to bitch him out right then and there. The accusation sat plainly between them. Unavoidable.

"Or are you just assuming that because you wouldn't make time?"

Robby stood so abruptly that his chair rolled backward. "Alright."

He began heading down a decently empty hallway, and obviously, Jack followed, so he kept going,

"I've had enough of you talking to me like I'm some shitty father." Abbott immediately shook his head.

"No." His voice softened. He wasn't backing down, but he could see exactly where this was coming from. "You're not a shitty father, man."

Robby laughed bitterly, "Really?"

"You're not." Jack held his gaze. "But you're not there for her."

The words hit harder than anything else he'd said. It wasn't an insult, just an observation, a very painful one.

"How would you know?" Robby snapped, his voice echoing louder than intended.

"How do you know anything about my kid?" The question hung between them, and for a long moment, Abbott said nothing. Robby watched him inhale slowly and choose his words carefully. Deliberately, like a man trying not to make an injury worse.

"Because your kid spent a good chunk of her childhood hoping somebody would show up for her." Robby physically flinched, face scrunching up

"And because she's an adult now." Jack's voice remained calm, steady.

"A grown-ass adult who reaches out when she's struggling."

Abbot paused and then finished, "Clearly didn't get that from you."

Robby turned away immediately, hands still planted on his hips as he paced a small circle, eyes fixed on the ceiling, jaw working, trying to find an argument- something- anything.

But all he could think about was the fact that, of course, you still talked to Jack. Why wouldn't you? At some point over the last six years, Abbott had stopped being one of the people who helped raise you and become one of the people who actually knew you.

The realization hurt more than Robby cared to admit.

"The death of my dog, the stretch of my skin"

The high didn't last forever. You knew it wouldn't, but it was nice to ignore the potential of things getting bad again so soon.

The department had settled into a steady rhythm by late afternoon- busy enough that nobody was standing still, quiet enough that you could hear when someone was irritated.

You were reviewing labs when a familiar voice cut across the nurses' station. It wasn't super loud, not at first, but sharp enough to make you look up.

Samira stood at one of the computers, and your father stood across from her, his shoulders rigid, jaw set. You recognized the expression immediately, the one that usually meant somebody was about to have a very bad day.

Samira was speaking, trying to explain something. A patient. You caught bits and pieces. A consult. Delayed response. Change in status.

"No." The word landed hard enough that several people glanced over, including you.

Samira stopped talking, and you felt your own stomach tighten. "Dr. Robby-"

"No." His voice was louder now. Not yelling- not yet- but close. "That is the third time I've asked you the same question."

The entire workstation seemed to go still. Samira blinked once, "You asked-"

"I asked why nobody called me." The interruption came instantly. Ruthless, like he wasn't even listening.

Mohan took a slight breath before responding evenly, "I did call."

"No." Robby stepped forward. "You left a message."

Samira's jaw tightened. "You didn't answer."

"And somehow that translated into 'problem solved'?" The sarcasm dripped from every word. A few nurses exchanged looks, but nobody said anything. Nobody ever said anything. "You know better than that."

Samira opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. "The patient was stable at the time."

"Until they weren't." His voice echoed louder than intended, several heads turned this time. The entire nurses' station suddenly became fascinated with their work. "You've been doing this long enough to know better."

Your chest tightened. You'd heard that sentence plenty of times before, word for word. Different context. Same Tone. Same disappointment disguised as anger.

Samira looked down briefly, collecting herself, the way people did when they were trying very hard not to react, then she nodded. "I understand."

"No." Robby laughed humorlessly, the sound making your stomach drop even more. "I don't think you do."

Silence. Heavy. Uncomfortable. Silence. The kind that settles over a room when everyone is pretending not to witness something.

Finally, Samira nodded again, a little stiffer this time. "Understood."

Robby stared at her for another second, then turned, already moving toward his next patient. Already done with the conversation, like he hadn't just ripped somebody apart in front of half the department.

The moment he disappeared around the corner, the tension lingered. But you didn't. You were up and moving before Trinity could even try to stop you.

You passed the nurse's station and heard Dana call out to you, a warning tone flooding her voice as she recognized the look on your face and that you were heading in the direction of your father.

You ignored her but spared Mohan a glance, seeing her stare silently at a computer screen while pretending she wasn't affected. You suddenly wondered how many other people had learned to absorb his anger the same way you had.

Which only made you walk faster toward your unassuming father.

"It's all washin' over me, I'm angry again"

You found him reviewing a chart outside one of the trauma bays, calm and focused, completely unbothered. The sight alone made your blood boil.

"Dr. Robinavitch." Robby looked up immediately. The tone of your voice had done its job, because for half a second, genuine concern flashed across his face.

"What's wrong?" You swallowed hard.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" His eyes immediately scanned you, checking for panic, urgency, for some sort of sign that something had gone wrong with a patient. You gave him nothing and the silence stretched.

Then he nodded, taking a deep breath, "Yeah."

He handed the chart to a passing resident. "Let's go."

The walk to the call room was painfully quiet, every second giving you another opportunity to reconsider and back down.

Robby turned as soon as the door shut behind you, "What happened?"

The concern was still there, still expecting a medical problem or maybe even a patient gone rogue and something had happened to you, but he definitely wasn't expecting anything like this.

You folded your arms. "Why did you talk to Dr. Mohan like that?"

The concern vanished instantly as an almost eerie silence filled the room. Robby stared at you, and seeing as you were never one to back down, you stared back.

Slowly, his expression hardened. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." he let out a dry, humorless laugh, letting you know this conversation was going to be as productive as any other confrontation with him as ever been

"That's what this is about?" The disbelief in his voice only made you angrier, but you took a deep breath, knowing better at this point than to match his energy- especially not right off the bat.

"Yeah," You nodded. "That's what this is about."

Robby scoffed and looked away, like he couldn't believe he was having this conversation.

"We are in the middle of a shift." Your jaw tightened.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like the problem is me bringing something up instead of what actually happened." Robby laughed, short and humorless, once again. The same exact laugh that had made your stomach drop when he was standing over Samira.

"You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." The words landed exactly the way he intended them to- dismissive, belittling, familiar. As if he was aiming to tranquilize you and end the conversation there.

Realistically, it should've ended there. You agreed with him slightly in that, yes, you were at work, and there were other things to focus on, but if he had time to publicly humiliate a doctor, he had time to be scorned for such.

You'd spent the last six years healing and growing out of your old habits, including reacting immediately and outrageously to someone who was clearly trying to get that emotion out of you. Your father was really the only person who did that, but you still managed to learn some patience for that sort of attitude, even while you were away from him

Your pulse quickened, and you took another deep breath to ensure that your voice would come out even and professional. "You absolutely berated Dr. Mohan just now."

"I corrected a resident."

"You humiliated her." Robby knew you were right, as you so often were. You sounded so much like Jack right now... This conversation was the second one he'd had today where he was being told off for being shitty toward people who were looking to him for guidance.

"No." His voice sharpened immediately. "I didn't."

"Half the department was staring at her-"

"Good." The answer came so quickly it stunned you. Robby stepped closer, not aggressively, but with the same intensity he used when teaching, or rather, making a point.

"Maybe next time she'll remember."

Your mouth fell open, the last of your newfound maturity and restraints slipping away, "Oh my God."

"What?" he spit out

"You think that's okay?"

"You think patient care is a joke?" The question hit like a slap. Suddenly, the conversation wasn't about Samira anymore- it was about competence. Or was it responsibility? Or maybe it was just another thing of authority. All things Robby could always weaponize when cornered.

You closed your eyes and took the deepest breath you could imagine, knowing this would be the last one if this conversation didn't end here and now. "No one said that."

"Then stop acting like I screamed at her for fun." You took a step forward, finally starting to match his irritation and intensity, "You really think that's what I'm saying?"

"Honestly?" Robby threw his hands up with a slight shrug. "Yeah."

The word echoed in the tiny room. "You walked in here because you saw thirty seconds of an interaction, and suddenly you're an expert on how I treat my staff."

You laughed, the sound holding no humor whatsoever, finally catching up to your father in mood. "An expert? Seriously?"

"You don't know the patient." Robby shook his head, glaring down at the floor.

"You don't know the context." He glanced up at you as he began stalking toward you, keeping his chin lowered but his gaze holding yours. It was a familiar intimidation tactic that you'd grown immune to

"You don't know what happened." His voice grew sharper with every sentence. And even though you knew better than to let him get to you, suddenly you were sixteen again, standing in a kitchen trying desperately to be heard.

"You cannot just walk in here and talk to me however you like." The volume finally rose, not quite yelling yet, but getting close to it.

"I know you think you got away with that shit when you were younger, but that is absolutely NOT going to fly here." You tried to keep your face neutral, knowing the fire in your eyes was already giving too much away, but you couldn't hold back the flinch as he barked his denial at you.

This wasn't Dr. Robby talking to a medical student. Not an attending talking to a colleague. It was a father talking to a child.

You felt even more infuriated as your vision blurred with anger, humiliated that he still had this effect on you, but even more so that you thought he might've changed. I mean, you had- so what was stopping him from doing the same? What was stopping him from becoming better?

"Wow." You breathed out. Robby crossed his arms with a roll of his eyes. "Oh, spare me."

"No." You shook your head, hands coming up in defense, disbelief racking your heart. "No, that's actually insane."

"What is? That I won't let you-" You cut him off before he could accuse you of something else

"No- That you still do... this." You gestured wildly between the two of you. His brow furrowed. "Do what?"

"That... thing where you decide nobody else could possibly know what they're talking about. That I couldn't possibly understand anything you do or why you do it." Robby rolled his eyes, the motion making your blood pressure spike.

"You think I'm shitting on you for fun?" The words burst out before you could stop them. "You absolutely berated Dr. Mohan just now! And for what? Huh??"

Robby opened his mouth, but you didn't let him. "She was trying to explain herself!"

And just like he carried on before, you followed suit "She was giving you an answer."

Your tone rose, but never your volume. You'd learned that being loud doesn't mean being right very early on. "She was talking to you like a professional, and you talked over her every single chance you got!"

The room fell silent, both of you breathing harder now, neither willing to back down, neither willing to leave. Somewhere beneath the anger, beneath the frustration, beneath the years of resentment, you realized this stopped being about Samira a long time ago.

"You think I'm the bad guy here?" Robby asked incredulously. You stared at him, neither answering nor looking away. He shook his head, "You've been here one day."

He had one hand on his hip, the other lifting a finger to be in your face, a gesture so familiar it made your stomach turn.

"One day." The emphasis hit exactly where he intended.

"You don't know these people.- you don't know how this department works." You felt your jaw tighten. Strike two.

"You. Don't. Know. What. You. Are. Talking. About." There it was, the final blow. He punctuated every single word, spelling it like for you like were stupid.

The silence stretched between you, and something in your expression changed. Robby saw it immediately- the anger disappeared, replaced by something colder. You looked tired

You nodded once, slowly, "Okay..."

The single word caught him off guard. Your arms dropped from where they'd been crossed over your chest, the fight leaving your posture entirely, "Okay."

"Y/n-"

"Nope." You shook your head, not even angry anymore. You took a step backward toward the door. "Forget it."

Robby frowned as he watched you reach for the door handle.

"Have a good shift, Dr. Robby."

The title hit harder than it should have. You pulled the door open, and this time, when you walked away, you didn't look back.

"The things that I lost here, the people I knew, they got me surrounded for a mile or two"

By the time you made it back to the rest of the department, the anger had settled into something heavier. Something sat deep in your chest and followed you around until something else could occupy your mind.

Like anyone else in this place, you threw yourself back into work because that's all you could do, Patient after patient. Chart after chart. Anything to keep your brain occupied.

It worked for the most part- at least until Dana appeared beside you. You didn't notice her appearance, only the coffee she set down next to your workstation. You glanced up, but she didn't look at you. She didn't ask any questions. Didn't make a scene. She simply slid into the empty chair beside you. The two of you sat in silence for a few seconds.

"You know-" Dana clicked through a chart, "I almost let Jack follow you."

A humorless huff of air escaped through your nose before you could stop it. "That would've been a disaster."

"That's what I said." The corner of her mouth twitched before you looked back down at the computer. The brief moment of amusement disappeared as quickly as it came. Dana finally glanced over and watched you for a second.

You could tell she was staring, trying to gauge whether or not you were going to react poorly to her checking in on you. You rarely did, but sometimes your father's habits showed through you as well, and you got a bit of an attitude.

"You don't need to hover, ya know." Dana quirked an eyebrow and tilted her chin slightly at that, not that you saw it. "I'm an adult. And not only that, I am also a professional, and I don't need you making sure my life is perfectly in shape any time I have a less-than-pleasant moment."

Her jaw dropped slightly, a bit taken aback by your avoidance and attempt at putting distance between you. She let out an exasperated laugh and shook her head. The audacity this kid has... just like her father... Dana looked back at her screen, the amused quirk of her lip still lingering as she allowed a few moments of silence to pass.

"How bad was it?" The question was gentle, carefully and particularly delivered, knowing exactly how to talk to you after years of trying to get you to trust her... you were too similar to your father in so many ways.

You swallowed, "Not bad enough to be memorable."

Dana hummed, the sound alone telling you she didn't believe that for a second.

You stared at your computer, then glanced over at the patient board. It was too far away to read the names clearly, but you needed to look at something that wouldn't leave her in your line of sight. Eventually you sighed.

"He hasn't changed." The words felt stupid the second they left your mouth. Childish, even, and you knew that. Dana's expression softened immediately, which only made you feel worse

You rubbed at your eyes, frustrated and embarrassed, angry at yourself for caring. "I don't know."

You laughed quietly. "I think that's the part that's bothering me."

Dana stayed silent, letting you find your own words. "I spent so much time away... so much time working on myself..."

You shook your head, the admission coming easier than expected. Your brows furrowed as you bit your cheek. "I worked my ass off."

Dana nodded once, because she knew- everyone knew.

"I learned how to communicate better..." You stared at the floor. "How to let things go, how to stop picking fights-"

Another bitter laugh escaped. "At least most of the time."

That finally earned a small smile from Dana, only for it to disappear a second later as you continued, "And I think..."

You paused, trying to organize the feeling, to make it make sense of it. "I think some stupid part of me thought he'd have done the same thing."

The painfully honest words hung between you. Dana's face fell, knowing exactly where you were coming from. She shrugged, the understanding tone seeping through her voice, "You wanted him to grow, too."

You nodded, the movement was barely noticeable. "Yeah..."

You hated how your voice cracked slightly- even acknowledging it within yourself made your nose sting with emotion. "Yeah."

Dana reached over and squeezed your shoulder, firm and grounding. The same way she had when you were fifteen. The same way she had when you were twenty-one. The same way she always would.

"Sweetheart." The nickname nearly broke you. You had to close your eyes and take a deep breath, unable to meet her eyes, or else it would be the end of your well held compuser.

"You can't do somebody else's growing for them." You lowered your head immediately, jaw clenching. Dana squeezed your shoulder again. "You hear me?"

You nodded. Neither of you said anything for a moment. Across the department, someone laughed, a monitor alarm sounded, a stretcher rolled past. Life kept moving. The emergency department always did.

Her chair squeaked as Dana finally stood. "You done being sad?"

A surprised laugh escaped you. "What?"

"You get five more minutes- go take a lap." Dana pointed at the clock. "Then I need my favorite med student back."

You rolled your eyes, a smile threatening despite yourself. "Favorite?"

"Don't tell Javadi." That earned a real laugh. The first bit of relaxation you've felt since you'd walked out of that call room. Dana smiled, satisfied with herself, then headed back toward the nurses' station, leaving you with your coffee and your thoughts. You let your head fall to rest on your folded arms, giving yourself a moment to actually breathe and shut your brain off.

"You look like shit." You glanced up. Frank stood beside the workstation, hands shoved into the pockets of his scrub jacket. The sight of him alone made something in your chest loosen.

"Wow."

"You do." He pulled the empty chair beside you closer and sat down. "Dana said you disappeared."

You looked back at your coffee. "Dana needs a hobby."

Frank hummed, the sound telling you he wasn't buying it, not even a little. Neither of you spoke for a moment until Frank finally nudged your shoulder.

"Hey." You looked over. "We're happy you're back, y'know."

The words caught you off guard. Frank shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world before adding on, "All of us."

"Yeah." Your voice came out quieter than intended as you lowered your gaze to the paperwork in front of you. Frank's expression softened slightly.

"One bad conversation doesn't change that." You swallowed, looking down at your hands. "Especially with Robby."

"I know." Frank let the silence sit. He'd always been good at that, never rushing you, never forcing you to talk before you were ready. Eventually, he stood with an exhaled breath.

"Good." He reached over and squeezed your shoulder once as he passed behind you. "Now quit sulking."

A tired laugh escaped you despite yourself. "Thanks, Frankie."

"Anytime, kid." And just like that, he was gone again, back to work, leaving you feeling a little less alone than you had five minutes ago.

"The car's in reverse, I'm grippin' the wheel"

Across the ED, Robby watched you, his daughter, laugh at something Langdon had said. The sight should've been reassuring, but he was sure you hadn't been made aware of Langdon's leave of absence a bit ago and how it had put a strain on their relationship for a while. Or maybe you had known- maybe Frank confided in you in the way you seemed to do so with him during dark times. Things were better now, for the most part, but it shouldn't have mattered.

Instead, the sight made Robby's stomach twist. You looked at him that same way once, years ago. Before every conversation, somehow became an argument. Before phone calls became shorter. Before holidays became excuses. Before six years passed without him realizing just how much more of her life he'd missed.

Jack had been standing beside him for several minutes before either of them spoke, neither particularly eager to revisit the conversation from earlier. Unfortunately for Robby, it was impossible not to. Every time he caught sight of you across the department, he remembered the look on your face when you walked out of that call room.

"You know," Abbott finally spoke, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you disappear around a corner with Javadi and Santos, "for a doctor who's kinda known for being so observant, you are terrible at reading your own kid."

Robby scoffed, but there wasn't much conviction behind it.

"I know." The admission came quieter than intended. Jack glanced over and Robby was already looking away, back toward the floor.

The truth was, he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do now. An apology felt inadequate- embarrassingly so. Like trying to patch a bullet hole with a bandaid.

Years didn't disappear because you said sorry. Trust didn't magically come back because you finally realized you'd screwed up. And Robby had spent most of the afternoon realizing exactly how badly he'd screwed up.

Robby dropped his head into his hands, staying there for a moment with his eyes closed. He took a deep breath before lifting his gaze back up to take in the chaos of the ED. Then released it, shaking his head with a huff.

"God..." His fingers rubbed across his forehead. "She's just like her mother."

Abbott immediately let out a noise somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "Oh, bullshit."

Robby glanced over, and Jack was already grinning. He pointed toward where you'd disappeared. "She may look exactly like her mom, but that is your daughter, Michael."

The grin widened. "To a fucking T, man."

Despite himself, Robby laughed, short and tired, moderately defeated. He hated how right Abbot was, and that realization didn't actually solve anything.

"I'm back between villages and everything's still"

By the end of the shift, you were hurting in most ways possible- your feet hurt, your back hurt, your brain hurt, and more dramatically, your heart hurt.

You'd spent the better part of twelve hours running around the emergency department, trying to learn names, remember protocols, impress attendings, and avoid thinking too hard about the argument that had nearly derailed your entire day. And for the most part, you'd succeeded.

The department had begun its nightly transition- day shift filtering out, patients still arriving, monitors still chiming. You stood at one of the workstations, finishing your final note on your chart, as the cursor blinked lazily on the screen. You stared at it for several seconds before finally signing off.

A strange mix of relief and disappointment settled in your chest- your first shift was over. You leaned back in your chair and glanced around the department. Dana was arguing with Jack about something (probably the fact that he's been here way longer than any mentally stable person would be). Princess was laughing with Mateo. Perlah was giving a report. Langdon was halfway through telling Mel some sort of story as they'd begun to head toward the lockers.

Everything looked normal, like today hadn't changed anything, and maybe it hadn't.

A familiar figure caught your attention across the department- your father, reviewing a chart, the same way he had been all day. For a moment, your eyes lingered, and as if sensing it, Robby looked up.

The distance between you wasn't very far, twenty feet, maybe less, but after six years and your interactions throughout the day, it might as well have been an ocean.

Neither of you smiled nor waved, you didn't move a muscle. The memory of the call room still sat heavily between you, and eventually, Robby looked away first, returning his attention to the chart in front of him. You swallowed, then looked away too.

The shift was over. But the conversation wasn't, and you knew this was about to be a lot harder than any other rotation you'd been on up until this point.

You gathered your things quietly, dropping your stethoscope into your bag and slipping on your jacket, trying not to dwell on the ache in your chest.

"See you tomorrow, hon." You looked up. Dana stood beside you, already smiling. It's like she could read your mind (at this point, you wouldn't be surprised if she actually could) and tell you were irrationally contemplating moving back.

Tomorrow.

You'd be back tomorrow. Back with Dana. Back with Frank. Back with Samira. Back with Santos. Back with Javadi. Back with patients. All of it... Including him.

The realization was simultaneously comforting and terrifying. A small smile tugged at your lips. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

You slung your bag over your shoulder, then you headed toward the exit. The automatic doors slid open, and the cool evening air met your skin immediately. The doors slid shut behind you, and somewhere inside the emergency department, life carried on.

Just as it always had. Just as it always will.

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It was a similar vibe for the cheer squad, even though you weren't actually competing in anything at this point in the season, but rather just cheering on the sidelines at football games. By the end of practice, everyone was already irritated with each other, you most of all.

Your coach barked from somewhere along the track, squatting in front of the bleachers, as a collective groan went up from the team. You jogged back into position, wiping sweat from your forehead with your sleeve. The September heat was sticking to everyone, making tempers shorter than usual.

On the field, Natalie kicked a ball back toward one of the girls with far more force than necessary in a passing drill, eliciting a yelp from her. She mumbled an apology that she clearly didn't mean.

Her cocky demeanor pulled a snort from you as you passed, causing her head to snap to you immediately. She gave you a look like she'd been waiting all afternoon for a reason to start something. You rolled your eyes and turned away before she could get the chance to.

Unfortunately, that only seemed to encourage her.

Every time you glanced toward the field, Natalie was looking your way- not staring, no, never staring- just looking long enough to be annoying before turning away the second you caught her.

The first time you caught her, you ignored it. The second time, you raised an irritated eyebrow. The third time, you blew her an exaggerated kiss (which actually got a barely concealed smirk out of Nat as she nearly missed a pass). You laughed so hard at her fumble that your coach made you run another lap.

After that, things somehow got worse.

Whenever the cheerleaders stopped for water, Nat seemed to have something to say- a loud comment to one of her teammates that had some hidden meaning only you'd understand. A scoff when you went up during stunts. A sarcastic clap when somebody landed a tumbling pass. Nothing direct enough for you to call her out on, but just enough to get under your skin.

By the middle of practice, you found yourself looking for her too- mostly to make sure she wasn't looking at you, which only made it more irritating when she was.

At one point, you caught her watching while your group rehearsed a sideline routine. Natalie didn't even try to look away- she just smirked, the expression widening after you flipped her off

"Y/n!" Your coach's voice cracked across the track, causing you to flinch and immediately drop your hand. A few of your teammates burst out laughing, drawing the attention of a few more Yellowjackets soccer players

The rest of practice devolved into a silent battle- petty glances, eye rolls, smug smiles- neither of you willing to let the other get the last word, despite not actually speaking.

By the time practice finally ended, your patience was hanging by a thread as you gathered your poms from the far side of the track. You heard footsteps approaching behind you, but didn't bother turning around.

"You following me now?"

"Please." Natalie's voice came from much closer than expected. "You wish."

You slung your duffle bag over your shoulder and finally glanced at her, ponytail swinging as you turned around, "Then what do you want?"

"Nothing." Your brows furrowed slightly, not quite believing that was the end of it, "Great."

You started walking away, and Nat tongued her cheek before falling into rhythm behind you, "You're in a bad mood."

You laughed, the sound coming out sharper than intended, pulling a frown from the blonde, "What's so funny?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You've been acting insane all day." Her eyebrows shot up, "Me?"

You both approached the locker room, continuing to argue as you walked in on the last of your teammates finishing up and going home. "Yes. You."

Natalie scoffed, carelessly yanking open the locker she kept her things in (which just so happened to be across from yours), "You're unbelievable."

"Says you." For a second, neither of you said anything, pretending not to be focused on packing up, but really you were both just waiting for everyone to clear out.

The sounds of metal lockers slamming echoed through the room as the last few girls filtered out. Van shoved her backpack over one shoulder, eyes darting between the two of you. "Try not to kill each other."

"Not making any promises," Natalie muttered, focused on packing her cleats in her bag. You rolled your eyes as Van laughed and disappeared through the door.

The room grew quieter... then more still... until eventually there was only the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the occasional rustle of someone stuffing things into a bag.

You zipped your duffle bag a little harder than necessary, while Natalie tossed her practice jersey into her locker, slamming the door shut, the metal rattling.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you left. It was ridiculous- you'd spent the entire afternoon getting on each other's nerves, and now that you were finally alone, neither of you seemed willing to deliver that final jab that would cause the tension to snap.

Your eyes flicked up, meeting Natalie's already present gaze. That same aggravating feeling that always seemed to show up whenever she was around, ever-present in your stomach. The feeling that every conversation between the two of you was seconds away from becoming a fight- or something better.

You leaned against the locker behind you. "What?"

Natalie's jaw ticked. "What do you mean "what"?"

You rolled your so dramatically she thought they were gonna fall out, "You keep looking at me."

She huffed out a laugh, amused at your childish (yet true) accusation, "I do not."

You let out your own incredulous laugh and looked around the room with your arms crossed, before pointing at Natalie, "That."

"What?" You gestured vaguely in her direction, "The weird thing you've been doing all day."

Natalie's expression darkened. "Weird thing?"

"Yes." You shrugged, gesturing again, "Whatever this is."

For a moment, she just stared at you. Then Natalie took a step closer, "You've spent all day practically begging for attention- is mine not good enough for you now?"

Natalie froze for half a second after the words left her mouth- she'd imagined they were gonna come out cooler, cockier, but they sounded more bitter and jealous. You stared at her, unmoving, then laughed. Sharp and disbelieving, you laughed in her face.

"Oh, that's what this is about?"

Her jaw tightened, "Don't."

"No, seriously." You shook your head, a pout of mock sympathy taking over your lips, "You've been picking fights with me for six hours because you wanted my attention?"

"I didn't say that." A condescending smile replaced your dramatic pout, "You kinda did..."

Natalie slammed her locker shut; the sound echoed through the empty room as she whipped around to approach you.

"You think everything's about you." Nat invaded your space, and you just continued to smirk with your arms crossed.

"Yeah, well, you kinda make everything about me." For a moment, neither of you moved. The locker room had been completely empty for a while now, save for the two of you and the incredible tension between you- the same position you always seemed to end up in.

"God, you drive me fucking crazy..." you muttered, rolling your eyes. The corner of her mouth twitched, "Likewise."

Neither of you moved nor looked away, the tension that had been building all afternoon seeming to pull tighter and tighter until it felt impossible to breathe around it.

"You're unbelievable," you said,

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Natalie's gaze dropped to your lips. It was only for a split second, but it was enough. The next thing you knew, you were closing the distance, and she was meeting you halfway.

The kiss was messy and impatient- an impulse decision you both made at just about the same time. Your hands found her jaw, and hers gripped your waist, pulling each other impossibly closer.

Natalie's hands traveled to knead at your hips, only to move and caress your ribs, causing your breathing to speed up at her exploration. Her hands slipped under your shirt as she pushed you back until you were leaning against a table pushed against the wall.

You pushed off your heels and rested your weight on the table, letting your legs fall open slightly, only for Nat to push her way in between them. You continued to suck on her tongue as she popped the button of your skirt and pulled down the zipper.

Her hand grazed your stomach as it slid past your panties and into your wet center. Nat moaned into the kiss and pushed her face impossibly closer to yours, practically trying to devour you. She pushed two fingers inside your cunt, the slick allowing her easy access. You inhaled sharply, which gave Natalie the upper hand in the battle between your tongues.

Natalie curled her fingers in perfect rhythm with the grinding of the heel of her hand against your clit, knowing exactly what gets you where you needed to be. She could feel her fingertips hitting the spongy core of your center, and how you became wetter and wetter with each pulse of her movement

It only took a few minutes for her to get you to that place- and Natalie knew it all too well. She picked up on the clenching of your walls around her fingers, the quicker unfinished breaths you were delivering with your head thrown back, how violently you were biting your lip... you made it too easy

"You seriously think I'm gonna let you come that easy?" Nat mumbled against your throat, delivering a few more perfectly timed curls before pulling her fingers out and simultaneously pulling you off the table to flip you around. The momentum had you catching yourself against the table, palms holding your weight up as you bent forward.

"Can you imagine how everyone would react if they knew their perfect princess was a total crybaby lesbian... who only gets off to the fucking burnout..." Her voice dripped with condescension, a faux pout morphing into a mocking smirk.

Heat rushed to your face. Every word felt carefully chosen, designed to get under your skin. Around you, the room seemed unnaturally quiet, the air thick with tension.

"That's not what's happening," you snapped, jaw clenched. Natalie only laughed, short and sharp. You moved to look over your shoulder at Natalie, frustrated beyond explanation at this point, but her hand is firm on the nape of your neck, pushing you back down against the table. She held you down with one hand, the other flipping up your skirt and pulling your panties to the side.

Nat slowly slid her cock into your tight hole. She intensely observed how your body reacted- tension releasing from your shoulders as you exhaled, focusing on not making any sort of sound that would give her satisfaction, palms flexing, then gripping the table.

You're not sure when she even put the strap on, or when she pulled her pants down, and that irritated you. Well- not so much the not-knowing part, but the fact that you got even wetter just thinking about her having it on her at all times, just in case she has to fuck the attitude out of you at any given moment.

Her hands slid up from the back of your neck into your hair. She yanked your head back, causing an impossible arch in your back, your palms gripping the edge of the table to give you some support, as your jaw hung open in a silent moan.

"Would you look at that..." Your eyes were barely able to flutter open as Natalie continued to pound into you. Your gaze met hers in the full-body mirror across the room, and your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight.

Natalie had your upper half held up by your hair, gripped in her fist. Your jaw hung open as you panted, eyes barely able to stay focused on the view. Your bra wasn't doing much either at that point; all the movement while you'd been pressed against the table caused your tits to slip out of the cups a bit, nipples well exposed, bruises beginning to bloom where the blonde had bitten you.

You looked a mess. Natalie did too, but it suited her- the messy, smudged makeup and wild hair. You looked out of place, and maybe that's what made the whole thing so much hotter to both of you. It was pornographic. God, you wished you could snap a picture of the scene and keep it in the box you kept in your bottom bedside drawer. Or buy a camcorder and have Nat hold it to get every angle, so you could rewatch it over and over until the next time you pissed her off.

The sight before you, mixed with your debaucherous thoughts, and of course, the perfectly timed pounding straight to your core, had you just about collapsing against the table underneath you. Your arms were ready to give out, and if it hadn't been Natalie's painfully delightful grip on your hair, you would've absolutely been face down again.

Natalie's hand in your hair traveled around the front of you, sliding up your stomach, stopping there for a moment to feel her cock poke against your tummy for a few thrusts, then continuing up to settle on your throat.

You felt so secure. You hated it. You've never admitted this to her, and you probably never will, but the moments when your brain turns off and you just let her take control of you are your favorite. You knew she'd never hurt you- at least not in a dangerous/non-pleasurable way, and something about that small bit of security made your heart (and pussy) flutter more than it should've.

You came with a whine- biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut as you approached your climax, jaw dropping with an exhaled whimper when you finally got there. Natalie continued to thrust relentlessly until she felt you slump fully in her hold.

She pulled out and maneuvered you to sit on the table again. Not giving you any sort of break, Nat bent down and began lapping at your drenched center. You let out a wanton whine, head thrown back as your hand dives into her hair, tugging instantly

"Nat- Nat, please- can't-" she shushed you, the sensation odd but stimulation against your clit

"I'm just cleaning you up, pretty girl..." she mumbled against your core before returning her attention to your center. She licked and slurped at your folds, then sucked on the crevices of your thighs, making sure to lap up every drop of your slick that had spread across them.

You should've known that sort of peace wouldn't last, that every step forward was, sooner or later, followed by three steps back.

The shift had been so small you almost couldn't pinpoint it, but you'd gotten used to her tells, and her yours, especially in the silent moments after you'd been with each other.

She stiffened like she'd remembered something or become aware of her surroundings. Every answer after that had gotten shorter. And every attempt you made to recover the conversation had bounced right off her.

You knew better than to ask her what was wrong, but you yourself had also been feeling irritated and decided to be willingly ignorant as you questioned her anyway.

"Nothing." The universal signal that something was definitely wrong. You'd pushed once, as you always did, and Natalie had immediately gotten irritated- as she always did.

Suddenly, she was acting like you were the one making things weird, so you scoffed and left- a typical ending to your hookups, one you'd think you'd be used to by now.

By the time you'd gone home, the whole thing had left a bad taste in your mouth. It wasn't a fight; it was barely even an argument- you've had much worse between the two of you, so this was nothing. But that feeling of her letting you think you're getting closer than last time, just to pull away and make sure you feel bad for getting too comfortable, is always what weighs heavily on your heart

So when you walked into school the next morning already tired, already annoyed, and already replaying yesterday's conversation in your head, your patience was hanging by a thread.

Unfortunately, Randy found you before you could even give the day a chance. You heard him before you saw him.

"...that's not even what happened." You sighed. Of course, Randy had somehow attached himself to a conversation happening near your locker, loudly explaining something nobody had asked him about.

You tried to ignore him, as did everybody else. You got your books, spun the combination to set your lock back in place, and focused your attention on literally anything else.

But Randy just kept talking. Every sentence was somehow more confident than the last, despite being so completely detached from reality.

At some point, he'd started arguing with someone... and at another point, fairly soon after, that someone had become you. You weren't even entirely sure how- one second you were minding your own business, then the next Randy was explaining your own opinion back to you incorrectly.

"No," you snapped for what felt like the fifth time. "That's not what I said."

"It's basically what you said."

"It literally isn't, though." Randy shrugged, the gesture alone nearly making you homicidal.

"Whatever." You felt something twitch behind your eye. Yesterday's frustration came rushing back all at once. Natalie's short answers, her sudden distance, the way she'd looked annoyed for no reason, the way you'd spent the entire night wondering what could put an end to your misery...

And now this idiot was standing in front of you acting like being loud automatically made him right.

"Seriously, can you not?" you muttered.

"What?"

"Can you stop doing that?" Randy laughed.

"What am I doing?" You stared at him. The fact that he genuinely seemed unaware somehow made it worse.

"Existing?" someone nearby offered, and a few people laughed. Randy rolled his eyes and glanced in their general direction. "Oh, wow. Real mature."

The bell hadn't rung yet, so people were lingering in the hallway now, slowing down as they sensed something entertaining might be happening.

You should've walked away- realistically, you knew that. Instead, you stayed, and Randy kept talking- every response more dismissive than the last, every interruption scraping another layer off your already nonexistent patience.

"You always get like this when somebody disagrees with you."

You actually laughed, sharp and humorless, "Disagrees with me?"

"Yeah."

"You haven't listened to a single thing I've said-" The smug look on his face as you began to come undone is really what did it, and something inside you snapped clean in half.

"And you know what, Randy? You can absolutely go fuck yourself because no one has actually cared ONCE about anything you've ever had to say," but you don't stop there, your outburst has layers to it.

"And I can't even have the pleasure of saying, "no one cares what you think" because you DON'T think! You've never had a single thought in your head, and that's the only impressive thing you'll ever fucking do."

"Jesus, what's your-"

"No- shut up. For once in your life, just shut up and listen." The words come so fast you can barely keep up with them.

"I am so tired of hearing you talk over people like your opinion is some kind of gift. Nobody's impressed, Randy! Nobody's sitting around waiting to hear what groundbreaking observation you're going to recycle from somebody else." His face reddened as a small crowd started to form, which you couldn't care less about.

"You walk around acting like you're the smartest person in every room when you're barely the smartest person in your own fucking conversations." You whipped around and stormed down the hall, face burning at your own actions, even though it was totally deserved.

You could hear people mumbling and laughing over your outburst as you booked it to the bathroom. Was it necessary to unleash your romantic frustrations on some random Jock? Not really. But did it make you feel better? That would also be a "no"... If anything, it just made your skin feel too tight for your body.

The bathroom was empty when you got there, fluorescent lights humming softly overhead. You shoved the door shut harder than necessary and immediately regretted it when the sound echoed too loudly in the small space.

For a second, you just stood there, far too aware of your breathing, staring at yourself in the mirror like you were waiting for some version of you to make sense of what just happened.

Your cheeks were still warm, not quite from embarrassment, more like leftover adrenaline, still running hot under your skin. You pressed your palms against the sink and exhaled slowly.

It wasn’t even about Randy. It never really was when you thought about it too long. It was just easier to aim everything outward than sit with whatever’s been sitting in your chest since yesterday.

You went about your day, trying to wipe away everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, in hopes of relaxing. It seemed like even acknowledging that things happened made it all worse, because even at the end of the day, you found yourself in one of the stalls of the locker room, trying to calm yourself down again.

You left the stall and headed to the sink to splash a bit of water on your face, like that might reset something. It didn't. The hallway outside kept moving without you. Voices passed by, laughing, talking about the game tonight, about borrowing jerseys, and who’s meeting after. Normal stuff. Your stuff.

You glanced up at the clock in the corner of the locker room, wishing it was much later in the afternoon and that you could just go out and cheer already. Back to smiling and acting like nothing was wrong.

You leaned against the counter, exhaling again, slower this time. You told yourself it wasn't a big deal, and you almost believed it until the door opened again. You looked up before you could stop yourself, and standing in the doorway, like she’d paused mid-step and forgotten why she walked in, was Natalie.

For a second, neither of you said anything, the bathroom suddenly feeling even smaller than it did a moment ago. Her eyes flicked to you, then away, then back again like she was weighing whether or not to leave. Your stomach dropped in a way you couldn't quite describe. Of all the moments in the day when you could’ve stayed invisible, she picked this one. You straightened a little without meaning to, still trying to catch your breath from everything before.

“...Hey,” you managed, quieter than you expected. Natalie didn't answer right away, just shifted her weight in the doorway. The bathroom hummed around you- fluorescent lights, distant lockers slamming outside, muffled voices bleeding through the walls like the rest of the school is happening somewhere far away and you’ve been dropped into a quieter version of it.

Natalie was still in the doorway- not leaving, not coming closer either, just hovering.

Your hands were still slightly damp from washing them, even though you dried them. You wiped them on your skirt without thinking, suddenly hyper-aware of everything- your breathing, your heartbeat, the way the space between you feels too small for something that isn’t even happening yet.

You almost were able to come up with something normal, but your brain kept tripping over itself, replaying the last twenty-four hours in fragments you couldn't organize into anything useful.

Natalie finally pushed the door fully open with her shoulder and stepped inside. The sound of it clicking shut behind her was louder than it should've been. She glanced at you, then at the mirror, like she was checking whether she wanted to be seen there at all. You cross your arms without meaning to.

“Game day bathrooms are your new hangout spot?” you muttered, because apparently your mouth has decided subtlety is dead.

Natalie huffed something that might've been a laugh, “Didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

It didn't land the way it usually does, her familiar edge irritating you in a bitter way rather than a fiery way. There was something softer under it, buried too deep for you to grab. You shifted your weight, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened anyway.

“Right,” you muttered, arms crossed, before you picked up your bag and began to head for the door. “Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your busy schedule.”

Natalie’s eyes flick to you again, sharper this time. “Wow... you’re in a mood.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, “You noticed.”

There was a slight beat before she pushed off the doorframe and stepped further in, like she’d decided staying was easier than leaving. The space between you felt less like distance and more like tension pulled too tight. Natalie tilted her head slightly.

“What happened to you today?” That question hit harder than it should've, taking you back to the feeling of comfort and casualness. You understood why she hated being asked what was wrong, because at least for you, it felt like answering would make everything between you normal. Like complaining to her would give her too much access to something she could use against you in the future. Like she didn’t spend yesterday disappearing in front of you and leaving you to carry it all into today.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say. “Maybe I just enjoy being emotionally stable and not weirdly shut out for no reason.”

Natalie’s expression flickered briefly before she scoffed softly, like she was brushing it off before it could turn into something real.

“Wow, dramatic much?” she says, but it’s flatter than usual, less sharp, more… cautious, somehow. You let out a short laugh, but you both knew nothing was funny.

“Dramatic?” you echo. “You literally freak out on me and go from normal to completely emotionally unavailable in like- five minutes, and then act like I'm insane for noticing.”

Natalie exhales through her nose, leaning back slightly against the lockers like she’s trying to put space between her and the conversation.

“I didn’t go "emotionally unavailable," I just didn't feel like talking to you anymore.” Ouch. There wasn't any bite to her words, which definitely made it worse. You huffed through your nose and rolled your eyes.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered. “Next time I’ll use more accurate terminology for ‘suddenly acting like I don’t exist.’”

Nat took a deep breath and let her head fall back against the lockers, eyes trained on the ceiling tiles. “You act like I planned it.”

“I didn’t say you planned it,” you reply immediately. “I said it happened. And then you acted like it didn't- which is kind of worse.”

That landed a little differently than any other time you'd accused her of ghosting you. Because you never actually seemed to care about her pulling away, you just made a fuss about it when it meant you couldn't have the last word. Now it felt like you were upset about something entirely different...

“…I wasn’t ignoring you,” she said, quieter now- honestly.

“Okay,” you shrugged, then continued impatiently, “Then what was it?”

She hesitated, trying to decipher in real time how much of herself she’d be willing to let you see before it turned into something she regretted.

“I don’t know,” she breathed out finally, a little sharper. “I just… got in my head, that's all.”

You stared at her, head ticking slightly to the side in suspicion, “That’s it?”

Natalie shrugged, defensive now. “That’s it.”

You nodded, not believing any of it, then she added, quieter, “I mean- sorry, I didn't think that would ruin your whole week.”

You huffed out a breath, crossing your arms again, “Now who's being dramatic?”

That earned you a look- not an irritated one that told you another heated argument was about to ensue, but a tired one that you weren't quite sure what to make of.

“You’re still mad about it,” she observed.

“I’m not mad,” you corrected automatically. Natalie raised an eyebrow, and you hesitated, “…I’m just saying it was weird.”

There was a pause where neither of you moved much, the air between you shifting- less sharp than before, but still charged in that way that didn't quite settle.

Natalie tilted her head slightly. “You’re the one who stormed out yesterday too, you know.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because I had a reason.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered with a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

That finally pulled something looser out of you- a small, reluctant huff of what could be a laugh if you were less stubborn. “You started it.”

“I did not start anything,” she argued immediately. “I was literally just existing.”

“You were existing suspiciously and avoiding casual conversation!” Natalie stared at you, then, despite herself, she laughed. It broke the tension just enough- not completely- but enough that your shoulders dropped a fraction.

She put her hands in her pockets as she shifted her weight back against the lockers, studying you for a second.

“You’re seriously still mad about yesterday,” she said again, but this time it sounded less like an accusation and more like curiosity.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, then stopped. Because saying yes is way too honest for what she deserved, but you knew denying it entirely would just keep you in this cycle until who knows when.

“Maybe I’m just mad at you in general.” Natalie’s mouth twitched.

“Yeah?” she quirked, the teasing lilt you'd grown accustomed to sending a warmth through your chest. “That sounds healthy.”

You shrugged. “It works.”

There was a moment where Natalie just stared at you, amused, before pushing off the lockers and striding over to you, crowding your space in a way that somehow didn't quite feel suffocating.

"Ya know, you've sure got a lot to say for someone who cries when she sits on my face."

You let out a small gasp, smacking her shoulder, not expecting her to shift the conversation to such, "I do not!"

"You absolutely do, and you're desperate for it every time-" you cut her off almost immediately, before she got too cocky

"Well, it seems to be the only way to get you to shut up, and i'm honestly hoping one of these days you just suffocate down there and die." Nat let out a full-body laugh at your seriousness, shifting to lean her shoulder on the lockers next to you.

"A girl can dream..." she expressed sarcastically-dreamily, overexaggerating her wide-eyed expression to further piss you off, only to pull a soft huff of laughter from you.

You turned back toward the mirror, pretending to focus on your makeup, even though you could feel Natalie looking at you. You caught her reflection once- then again. Both times she looked away immediately. Which was strange since Natalie usually had the subtlety of a brick through a window.

A small smile tugged at your lips. "You look guilty."

She scoffed, "What would I be guilty of- I literally haven't done anything."

"Exactly." her head jerked slightly, brows pinching together

"What does that even mean?"

"It means you're being weird." She rolled her eyes. "Says you."

You frowned at your reflection. "What?"

Natalie shrugged. "You've been weird all day."

"I've been normal all day."

"No-" She pushed off the lockers and wandered a little closer. "You've been mopey."

You groaned, pausing your makeup routine for a moment to complain. "Don't use that word."

"Mopey?" She stalked toward you in a somewhat jokingly predaorty way, trying to be obnoxious

"Yes." Her hands disappeared into the pockets of her jacket as she rocked back on her heels, looking entirely too entertained by the conversation, "Why?"

"Because it's so belittling." You whined, and Natalie's smile widened, your reaction only encouraging her.

"I mean what else could I call you?" she paused for a second, "Mopey."

You pointed a makeup brush at her. "Stop."

Natalie's grin only grew, the teasing officially becoming the new point of the conversation. It was honestly the most wholesome argument the two of you have ever had, and neither of you seemed quite ready to genuinely pissing each other off.

"You were soooo mopey."

"Natalie."

"You moped around all day!" Despite yourself, a laugh escaped you, and Natalie immediately looked pleased, like she'd won something. You rolled your eyes, but your own smile was becoming harder to suppress, which Natalie noticed immediately, of course.

She was so pleased with herself that she'd managed to drag you out of whatever mood you'd been trapped in and intended to take full credit for it. Meanwhile, you were trying very hard not to encourage her, because every time Natalie realized she was getting a reaction out of you, she doubled down.

"Wow."

"What?"

"That." She pointed at your face, making you get self-conscious instantly. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror for a brief moment to see what she was talking about, before looking back at her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

"Natalie."

"Nothing." The fact that she was suddenly refusing to elaborate made you more suspicious than if she'd just insulted you. You eyed her suspiciously, then turned back around, catching her reflection in the mirror again, this time, she didn't look away.

Something about that made your stomach do an uncomfortable little flip, as you forced yourself to focus on your makeup again.

"Y'know..." she said, with a smile so soft you'd think she'd forgotten who she was talking to. Your eyes flickered up to her, then back down, then you glanced fully at her through the mirror, "What?"

You instantly regretted acknowledging her, as you watched a grin slowly return to her face,

"Ya know... I always thought you looked so cute in your stupid uniform." this pulled a genuine laugh of disbelief from you, causing you to take a break from fixing your makeup in the mirror.

"Yeah? Is that why you show up at the end of every home game and irritate me until I drag you back to my house?"

She looked even more smug, like a stupid cat who just successfully pushed something off the table, "that's exactly why"

There was a brief pause as she hovered near you. Nat could tell you were turning somethig over in your head- trying to decide whether or not your next question would be recived well.

"You gonna show up again tonight?"

"Hmm, i don't know... think it's about time i start trying to break my bad habits"

"Okay, then skip the game and still come to my house after"

"I don't know, y/n..." she teetered, obviously pushing your buttons, her mind was made up before the topic even came up, "what if I just wanna come over and fuck?"

You didn't even roll your eyes at her that time, just crossed your arms over your chest and demanded, "Then come fuck me."

Nat scoffed out a laugh, a bit taken aback by your bossiness, considering how shy you seemed to be getting a few moments ago, "You gonna ask nicely?"

She already knew the answer to that. Even if you were showing moments of softness, you were still a brat. "Of course not."

And so she did exactly as you told her to do- not without rolling her eyes and insulting you, of course. You teased and flirted, tugging her close by the collar of her jacket as she fiddled with the bottom of your skirt, before parting ways.