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Chapter 3

The small gestures continue, whether it’s a protein bar in the middle of a long shift or a steaming cup of coffee first thing in the morning. As someone who loves to give people gifts like that, it makes you feel warm all over to get the little tokens Robby leaves for you.

You’re not sure anyone else has noticed until you walk up to the nurses’ station one afternoon and overhear Dana talking to Robby. Both of their backs are turned, and you freeze as soon as you hear your name.

“She’s cute,” Dana says, shoulder knocking into Robby gently, her voice teasing. “Like a little ray of sunshine around here.”

Robby rolls his shoulders. “Sure. No one is denying that. She’s also, what, twenty years younger than me?” You ears perk up at that, because what does that mean? Why should that matter? Unless…

“So?” 

“So, nothing. Can I get back to work now?”

“Come on, I know you have a soft spot for her.” When he scoffs, she continues. “What’s with all the cups of tea and little snacks then? You’re not one to give special treatment.”

“I’m not giving special treatment.” He ducks his head, shaking it slightly. Before he can say anything else, a call comes through for a trauma that’s on its way in. Robby moves into action, adjusting the stethoscope around his neck and heading towards the ambulance bay.

You walk up beside Dana and she looks over with a knowing grin. She doesn’t say anything, but you’re sure she knows you overheard them. She always knows.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Robby only acknowledges you during procedures, asking for an instrument or ordering a dosage. He hardly even meets your eyes, much less speaks to you about anything other than medicine. They probably weren’t even talking about you.

It’s not until later that evening, when you’re back in the park with everyone that he sits next to you again, knee nudging yours. It’s your first time coming to one of these gatherings in a few weeks, but he’s right there beside you like you do this every day.

“How’re you doing, kid?” His eyes meet yours for the first time all day, and you feel a tension release that you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“Not too bad, Doc,” you say, nudging him right back. “You?”

He takes a sip of his beer, nodding. “Yeah, not the worst day, all things considered.” He stares across the park at the residents drinking and chatting. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Why are you a travel nurse?”

You blink at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re a good nurse, especially in an ER. You could be permanent anywhere you want. Why keep moving around?”

You pick at the label of the beer bottle, dropping your gaze. You’re not sure you’re ready to talk about this, with Robby or with anyone, but he did ask, and you’re not going to lie to him. The compliment about your skills certainly doesn’t hurt. “I’ve just been enjoying trying out different places. And it’s nice to be able to provide some help where it’s needed.” It’s not untrue. It’s just also not the whole truth.

“But you’ll eventually settle somewhere, right? You won’t just stay on the road every few months forever?”

He’s still looking at you, warm brown eyes locked on you like there’s no one else around. You aren’t sure what he’s looking for you to say, but you can’t help but be honest.

“I’d like to. When I find the right place.”

He lets out a slow breath, like he’s considering something. “Well, if you decide the Pitt is the right place for you, we’d be happy to have you.”

Your eyes go wide. “What?”

It’s dark, but you can just about see Robby’s cheeks glowing red as he flushes. “You’ve been a great addition to the team. If you ever change your mind about moving on, you’re welcome to stay.”

You knock your knee into his again. “I guess you do like me, huh?”

He pushes back against you, soft smile breaking across his face. “I told you so.”

“I think you told me you didn’t dislike me. That’s not exactly the same thing.”

Robby shakes his head and stands up as he drains his beer. “I’m heading out. You want me to walk you home?”

You consider him for a long moment before nodding. You can’t figure out what changes for him as soon as you leave the walls of the ER, but something definitely does. “Sure. Thanks.”

He holds out one of his big hands and you take it, letting him guide you to your feet. You can feel Princess’ sharp eyes watching every move, but you shake it off. It doesn’t matter what she thinks. It doesn’t matter what any of them think. He’s just walking you home.

Robby doesn’t seem to notice anyway, shoving his hands into the pockets of his infamous hoodie and starting down the street.

You want to ask him why he cares so much if you stop moving around, why he wants you to stay, what that means to him, but you can’t quite get the words out. Instead, you walk beside him quietly until you feel a raindrop, then two, then a downpour coming on.

You look up and see the sheet of water coming down, and all you can do is laugh. After a long day at the ER, of course the rain starts pouring as you’re walking home. Robby looks over at you and starts to laugh himself, grabbing your hand to pull you forward.

By the time you get to your building, you’re soaked, but you find you don’t mind. Robby still hasn’t let go of your hand. It’s warm and strong, and you realize just how long it’s been since someone held your hand, anyone. Much less someone you respect, even sort of like.

“I should get inside,” you say, shouting a little over the sound of the rain. He nods, finally releasing you from his grip. “Do you want to come in until the rain stops?”

A look you can’t quite read crosses his face, but he shakes it off and nods instead, blinking through the water streaming down his face. “Sure. That would be nice. Thanks.”

He follows you up the steps as you fumble with your keys. It’s harder to focus on getting the right key into the lock when you have Dr. Robby staring at you with those impossible brown eyes.

“Think they’re all still at the park?” you ask him, looking over your shoulder as you climb the creaky stairs to your apartment.

“Yeah. And all soaked, I bet.”

“Not like we’re doing much better,” you say, hands shaking a little as you unlock your apartment.

You know it’s small, and it came furnished, so there are very few things that mark it as yours aside from a few photos and your collection of books. You also weren’t expecting company when you tore out of here this morning, so there are clothes strewn all over the room and dishes stacked in the sink.

“Sorry about the mess,” you say, hurriedly gathering up laundry and tossing it into your bedroom. At least you know he won’t be going in there.

“Thanks for letting me come in,” he says, ignoring the apology. “I’d be even more waterlogged if I was trying to get home now.”

“Do you have to go much farther?” you ask, genuinely curious. You’ve never actually asked him what part of town he lives in. For all you know, he’s going way out of his way to walk you home.

“Not much. Just another half-mile or so.” 

“Do you have anything to change into?” You try to think what you might have that would fit him, but nothing comes to mind. He’s just so much bigger than you.

It’s even more noticeable here, in your tiny one-bedroom. He towers over you, even drenched from the rain. He rubs a hand over his head, spraying water in a fine mist over the room.

“Jesus, sorry. Not trying to get everything wet in here.”

Your cheeks flush, even though you know that isn’t what he meant. There’s just something so intimate about having Robby here in your apartment. It’s different than seeing him in the ER, or even in the park. He’s softer, more gentle, somehow, when it’s just the two of you.

He pulls out a pair of sweats and a clean t-shirt from his drenched backpack, and they’re blessedly dry after the downpour. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course.” You wave at the door, and he goes inside. You take the opportunity to strip off your wet clothes in your bedroom and change into a pair of leggings and a tank. You take your hair out of the tight ponytail it’s been in all day and brush it out, letting it fall over your shoulders.

Robby isn’t out by the time you’re ready, so you fill the kettle and set it to boil. A cup of hot tea is just the thing to warm you both up while you wait for the storm to pass. You’re humming to yourself as you set out mugs and boxes of tea, bouncing around your kitchen a little.

“Having fun?” a low voice says behind you, making you jump. You turn to see Robby leaning against the wall, smiling at you.

“I thought some tea would help,” you say, trying not to show how embarrassed you are. You’re never quite this relaxed at work. You always try to keep a level of professionalism, no matter what else is going on.

But at home, it’s hard to keep the walls up, especially when you’re not used to having someone else in this space. Especially when you’re not used to having him in this space.

“Tea would be great.”

“Any preference?” You hold up the boxes of tea like a game show presenter, and Robby chuckles.

“Chamomile, please.”

“As you wish.” The kettle boils and you pour the water over the teabags, letting them steep for a minute while you get a spoon. You can feel Robby’s eyes on you, and you wonder what he sees. 

You hand him one of the mugs, fingers brushing his as he takes it from you. A shiver rushes over you, and you’re struck again by just how much you miss being touched, especially by a man like this. A man like him.

Instead of focusing on that, you lead him over to the worn couch and curl your legs under you, shrinking yourself as much as you can. You know he doesn’t want to touch you more than he has to. The last thing you want is to make things awkward or ruin this job.

Robby seems content to sit quietly beside you, sipping his tea, but the silence is too much for you to take.

“Tell me something about yourself,” you say. He sits up a little straighter at the question.

“What do you want to know?” His eyes meet yours again, and you feel warmer than ever, tea or no tea.

“Anything.” You lean your chin on your hand, propped against the back of the couch, and he mirrors you, leaning ever so slightly closer.

He squints at you, like he’s trying to figure out what you might want to hear. “I’m an only child,” he says finally, like it’s a big secret.

“Really?” you say, grinning. “Me too.”

He smiles right back, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not common to meet another one in the wild.”

“No, everyone always has ‘sisters’ and ‘brothers.’” You scoff, and he laughs loudly. You’re not sure you’ve heard him laugh like this in the few months you’ve known him.

“Yeah, how dare they?” 

“Right?” You can’t help but giggle along with him.

It’s easier than you expected, having Robby here. With how distant he usually is at the Pitt, you’re surprised he’s so relaxed with you here, in your little apartment. It’s like when you’re alone, he turns into a totally different person. 

All of a sudden, he puts his mug down and glances at his watch. “I should probably head out. It sounds like the rain has slowed down, at least.”

“Oh, sure.” You watch him pad across the floor in his socks, your heart thumping painfully in your chest for some reason. “Text me when you get home?”

He looks up from slipping on his shoes, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“See you tomorrow.”

He nods, slipping his backpack over his shoulder before he steps back out of your apartment and disappears into the night. You lock the door behind him and put the mugs in the sink before you collapse into your bed.

You can’t quite fall asleep until your phone pings and you see the message from Robby.

Home safe. Thanks for letting me take shelter.

Glad you made it through the storm.

You see the dots start up again, and you feel like you’re holding a breath while you wait for him to send his message.

Good night.

Two words, but they make your heart feel a little extra full. It doesn’t mean anything. You know that. He’s just closing the conversation.

But it feels like something.

Your phone pings again and you look down, but it’s not a message from Robby. It’s from an unknown number.

Thought I wouldn’t find you?

A shock of fear spikes through you and you block the number instinctively. 

Another text comes through.

Not that easy to disappear, is it?

You block this one too and turn off your phone. Staring up at the ceiling, you feel frozen. Your heart seems to be beating both too slowly and far too fast. You can’t quite catch your breath.

He found you.

How did he find you?

--

After the door closes and about a single second of silence, the reality of everything you just said really hits you.

Leah. Leah.

You threw her in his fucking face.

You threw her in his fucking face knowing exactly how hard Robby has been and is working to heal from PittFest and to find a way through his grief and guilt. And you just threw her at him. All because you were overwhelmed and overstimulated and angry and lashing out. And you didn't mean everything you said. You're going to want him to come back. You just don't know when. You need space.

It's all so fucked, this entire situation. You don't know what you and Robby are, what your status is. Are you together, are you not? You don't know how to get answers. And now you really fucking don't know how to fix this mess you find yourselves in with the supply closet and what you just said. You don't know how to ask him to come back and try to work through things. You don't know. Your head is fuzzy. You're spiraling a little, brain everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Part of you thinks what you said might be worse than anything Robby said to you in the supply closet that day.

And you won't make excuses for it. It doesn't matter that you were overwhelmed and overstimulated and angry and lashing out. It doesn't matter that Robby was the one who pushed you. It doesn't matter that you have a traumatic brain injury and that you're depressed. Explanations? Yeah, probably. Excuses? No. No excuse exists for what you just said and did.

It was cold and calculated. Deliberate. You knew exactly where to hit Robby to inflict the most possible pain. So you did.

You could have just stopped talking. Gone quiet and not responded to him at all until he got the point. Called your nurse and asked her to take Robby to the cafeteria or wherever. Texted or called Jack or Dana to come get Robby. But no.

You picked Leah.

Maybe it's now Robby who shouldn't want or be able to forgive you.

The more you think about Robby the more scared you get.

Because you know Robby thinks he doesn't have you anymore. You know how he gets with his black and white thinking at times, especially when he's emotional, like he is right now. There's no middle ground. Shades of gray no longer exist for Robby. You're either together or broken up. A couple or exes. Good or irreparably damaged. There's no in between for him. There's no space for hope.

You guys are just one or the other. Together or broken up.

And you kicked him out and said you were done. So you know that Robby thinks that it's over. That he's alone again. That you're broken up.

You don't want him to think those things or feel those things, but you know that he is. You know that, like you, he's tired and he's defeated and he's consumed by grief and guilt and he's hurting and that he just wants it all to stop. You know his thinking is warped and his brain is lying to him and you know that right now he believes the best answer to all his problems and the best thing for everybody in his life is right there in front of him. So simple. So obvious.

You need Jack.

And you need him right the fuck now. You grab your phone from your lap, unlock it and find Jack's name, dial him immediately. You're pretty sure he's working, so if he doesn't answer you'll call the Pitt directly and pull him out of whatever the fuck he's doing.

He answers on the second ring. He must've seen it was you and stepped out of whatever.

"Your phone die Robby?" he starts a little teasingly.

"Jack." Your voice cracks at the very end of his name. You can feel Jack's entire demeanor change through the phone.

"What's wrong? What happened?" All traces of teasing are gone, replaced by a focused worry. With the change in background noise and voices growing louder and quieter, you know he's already moving toward the elevator. "I have to go take care of something, call Shen if you need anything," you hear him tell someone.

"I…Michael and I, we had a really bad fight, Jack, and I kicked him out and said I was done and some awful things. I need you to find him because we both know how he's thinking right now and I'm afraid he'll fucking do it this time, Jack. I'm really fucking scared he'll do it." A couple of tears slide down your cheeks and you wipe them away and sniffle. "I can call Dana too-"

"No. I'll find him. If I need her I'll call her." It's clipped. You know it's probably because he's trying to think, but you can't help but feel like he's just justifiably mad at you.

You think everyone will be. If you and Robby don't fix this you're well aware of just how alone you're going to end up being. Rumors will fly. The truth, or at least part of it, will eventually have to come out. You'll let yourself be the villain that threw Leah in Robby's face after he'd been taking care of you all this time so that Robby doesn't have to tell anyone about what happened in pedes or the supply closet. It won't really matter, you tell yourself, because if you and Robby don't figure it out you doubt you'll return to work at the Pitt, supposing you even could.

It's easy for your thoughts to slip there. It always has been. It's a part of you that's been dormant recently and that you've hidden from Robby all these years when it wasn't, even once you learned he has a piece of him that matches. You just didn't want to put that on him, you guess.

Maybe Robby has the right idea, he's just not the one who needs to execute it. Maybe you're the one who needs to. Maybe that would be easier for him. You could leave a note or even record a video.

Tell him you love him. More than anything in the world, more than you know what to do with, more than he'll ever know, that you never stopped loving him and that wherever you go after death and in every lifetime you'll still love him, that he'll always be loved by you.

Tell him thank you for everything, for the years you were just friends and everything he did for you then and the time you were together and everything he did for you as your partner, for being patient with you, for loving you.

Tell him that you forgive him, that you forgive him for everything, especially the supply closet and not giving you space, that you understand why he did it and that it's truly okay and you forgive him, that there's nothing you haven't forgiven him for, you promise.

Ask him to forgive you, apologize, for throwing Leah in his face and for being mean when he was just trying to help, and for all of it, anything and everything you've done over the time you've known him.

Because if you die, it's a discrete event for him to heal and move on from. Robby could get through that. He might not think it, and it might require medication and careful supervision from his friends for a bit, but eventually he would grow around the grief and his life would go on. And he could find someone else. Someone better. Someone he didn't have to doubt. Someone who wouldn't treat him like you just did.

So maybe you dying is what's best for him. Maybe it's the nicest gift you could give him right now. Maybe it's the best apology you'll ever be able to give him.

And you, you don't have a Jack, a best friend. Your Jack is Robby. Even if you did, Robby is so emotional and worked up himself and is handling this so differently from you that he's not going to think about the possibility of you being suicidal and call anyone. You don't hold that against him, it's just reality. You're in two different ideating head spaces.

"I'm sorry, Jack," you whisper, come close to hanging up on him.

"Woah, hey! Hey, hey, hey!" Jack must hear your sadness and the sudden resignation in your tone because he's yelling like he's afraid you've moved the phone away. You hear the elevator ding in the background. You know he's checking the roof first. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Couples argue and are fine, sometimes they break up and sometimes they get back together and sometimes they don't know exactly where they are and sometimes people say awful things that they don't really mean. That's human and it's life. I will come check on you after I get him safe, okay?"

You let out a soft laugh through your nose that's hardly more than a puff of air. "You don't have to, and you won't want to if he tells you what I said, which he will. It was bad Jack. And it's okay. I'll be fine. I always am, right?"

"I will come check on you after I get him safe, okay?" Jack repeats. "I'm aware I don't have to and I sincerely doubt what you said was so bad that I'm not going to want to. I can't think of anything off the top of my head that you could say to him that would make me suddenly hate and not care about you enough to not come check on you."

You don't have it in you to argue. You know he's not going to come. "Okay."

You hear the elevator ding and the doors open, Jack stepping off. "I can see him on the roof, I've got him, okay? I'll see you after this."

"Hey Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Will um, will you tell him that I love him, that I love him so fucking much it hurts, and that I love him more and always will," you pause for a shuddery breath as the tears fall a little harder, "and, and that I'm sorry," you sniffle and swallow hard. "That I'm so sorry for everything."

"Yeah, I will." Jack sounds distracted and you know it has to be because he's watching Robby closely. You're kind of glad he is because if anyone was going to pick up on the tone of what you just said it would be Jack. "I'll see you soon. Bye."

"Thank you," you whisper. "Goodbye, Jack."

Dana walks up to you as you watch Robby talking to Mel from across the floor, eyes narrowed at him a little in suspicion. "He seem off to you today?" you ask her.

You've just finished handoff from night shift, Robby immediately walking away with Mel before you got a chance to really say hi to him. That's not totally unusual, and really it's your fault since you were the one running late today and getting here just on time so the two of you didn't have a chance to talk and have a moment together before you both started.

Tonight is your fourth date and you both know what that means. Sex. Finally.

Robby's taking you out to a nice restaurant and you have a pretty outfit and some nice lingerie picked out to wear underneath and surprise him with. Once you're off you'll both go to your own places, shower and get ready and Robby will pick you up. You have the next three days off together and the plan is for you to stay at Robby's the entire time, fucking and sleeping and just being together.

But there's just something off about him right now. You can't quite put your finger on what but you know him well enough by this point to know there's something.

"A bit, yeah," Dana nods. The two of you watch him in silence for a few seconds. "You want me to keep a close eye on him today with you?" There's a light tease to her voice at the end when she says with you.

"Yeah," you nod. You finally pull your eyes from Robby to look over at her and roll your eyes playfully at her smirk. "Please, if you don't mind. I'm just worried about him. Something seems off and you know how he loves to keep everything inside."

Roughly two hours later and you're convinced Robby is avoiding you. He turns if he sees you coming, does his best not to jump in on cases you're involved in except when he really has to because he's your attending. It's eating away at you a little. You can't help but think it's a you thing, that you did something or that the reality of tonight has made him start second-guessing everything.

Robby isn't doing it completely intentionally. He knows how well you know him and how easily you'll see that he's not feeling great. It has to be how tired and run down he is with this being his fifth straight day on mixing with his excitement, to put it lightly, about tonight. His body is just being pulled in different directions so he's tired and has a killer headache and feels warm. He's sure it'll pass soon and until then he'll just try to keep his interactions with you to a minimum so you don't worry about him or try to cancel tonight and tell him to get some sleep instead.

You watch him walk into the men's room and decide to wait for him, standing against the wall outside of it. "Hi," you greet him when he walks out.

"Hey, Kid." A genuine soft smile pulls onto his face at seeing you.

You return his small smile for a second but quickly go back to your serious face. "What's up?"

Robby furrows his brows at you and shakes his head. "What do you mean?"

You give him a look. "Please talk to me."

"Nothing's up," he tries to laugh.

"Then why are you avoiding me?" You raise your eyebrows at him.

"I'm not!" Robby shrugs deeply.

You look at him for a second and then match his shrug. "Okay." With him giving you nothing your brain doubles down on your thoughts from earlier. Hurt and sadness flash across your face and color your eyes as you look at him. "I'm sorry for whatever it is that I apparently did. Or if the thought of tonight is making you second-guess things and us or me or whatever I wish you'd just tell me."

Robby's face falls. You're wrong, so so wrong and he's the one that made you think that way. "Kid!" he calls after you as you walk away from him quickly.

You can hear his footsteps growing closer as he catches up with you. "Hey," Robby starts as he pulls up to your side and you stop walking. "You didn't do anything. Nothing is wrong, I promise. And I'm not second guessing anything. I could never second guess you. I'm sorry for making you think that way."

The hurt in your eyes fading soothes Robby for a few seconds until it turns into worry. "You're off Michael, with me and in general."

"I probably seem off because I'm excited about tonight and trying to keep busy and distracted so I don't think about it too much and get hard," he explains a bit under his breath, widening his eyes at you a little at the end with a smile.

That makes you relax a bit even though you're not convinced that's the only thing up with him right now. You study him, swear he looks a little flushed and that his eyes are a bit dull. Maybe he's getting sick. You'd love to press him a bit further, but you know if you do too hard he might really shut down on you, especially since you're at work.

You finally return his smile with a small amused one of your own. "Can we step in somewhere so I can have a hug?" Robby hesitates just slightly. He's saved when Langdon walks out of a room and calls his name. "Go." You nod your chin in Langdon's direction. Robby shoots you an apologetic smile as he walks away.

His hesitation makes you wonder. It could be because he's afraid touching you will get him going and with the excitement about tonight it'll be difficult for him to get himself back under control. But with the flush and dull eyes it could be because he's getting sick and not feeling well. You need to get him alone and get your hands on him to feel how warm he is.

Another few hours pass and both you and Robby are so busy you barely see each other. When he finally gets a second to stop and really feel, Robby knows he's not just tired and excited. He's sick. His head is worse, he has a sore throat, is so hot he slips into the bathroom to take his long sleeved undershirt off, and his entire body aches, sand in every joint and fire in every muscle.

After he throws his shirt and jacket in his locker he resigns himself to sitting at the hub and trying to take it as easy as possible, telling himself it'll pass. He's in denial because there is no fucking way he's sick the day he's finally going to get to have you how he's been dreaming of nearly four years.

Robby realizes how exhausted he is when he almost has to fight to keep himself awake while at the hub. He'd really fucking love to just rest his head on the cool counter and shut his eyes for a minute or two. But Langdon calling his name again prevents him from doing so.

You spot him at the hub, watch the way he keeps widening his eyes like he's trying to clear sleep out of them. He looks like he feels awful, even from this far away. When Langdon calls his name and he stands up he has to steady himself with his hand on the counter for a second before walking off and you know. You know he's sick.

When you see Dana walking back to the hub you head over. "Hey, do we have a free room I can have?"

Dana narrows her eyes suspiciously but checks for you. "North 5 is open. Why?"

"Robby needs it. He's sick. He needs fluids at the very least. He took his undershirt and jacket off." You look over at him where he's leaning against the door frame of Langdon's patient's room. As much as he tries to make it seem normal and like he's doing it how he normally does, you're able to tell he's leaning into it far more than usual.

You can tell Dana sees it too when she sighs. "He sure does, but good luck getting him to stop and stay in a room."

"I don't need luck." You look at Dana again and smirk. "I have this one face he can't say no to."

Dana laughs and nods. "Room's yours. I'll throw a vitals cart in there for you. Let me know what he needs, yeah? Should I call in Jack?"

You consider for a second. "No, I should make sure he really is sick and it's not just me being overly worried or something before we ruin Jack's day off." You flash her a quick smile. "Thanks Dana."

Robby has to fight back a wince as he pushes himself off the door frame once he's no longer needed. Acceptance starts to settle in with how awful he feels and he cannot fucking believe this is happening and he's going to end up having to let you down.

"Dr. Robinavitch." He hears you call him and looks up to see you looking at him from across the floor with raised brows. Your voice is caring but there's a firmness to it that tells him he's not going to escape whatever it is you want to talk about. "A word?"

He nods and walks over to you, hoping to keep it brief as though he doesn't know that you know him well enough to see how bad he's feeling from far away. "Of course."

As he gets closer you swear you can see him getting worse every second. His eyes are a bit sunken, darker than usual bags under them. A few strands of hair are sticking to his sweaty forehead and he's flushed even more than he was earlier. Every step seems to hurt him and his breaths look heavier.

You start to walk when he gets to you, making the short walk to North 5. You open the door and gesture for him to walk in. After eyeing you suspiciously for a few seconds he does and you follow.

"What's up?" Robby asks as you close the door behind you and draw the curtain so nobody can see in the window.

You turn and look at him knowingly. "Sit on the bed Michael."

"What?" he cocks his head at you.

"Sit on the bed," you repeat. "Please."

He forces a laugh. "Why?"

You sigh. "So I can take your vitals. We could be nearly done with them by now."

"Why do you want to take them?" Despite himself he takes the few steps back to hit the edge of the bed and leans against it a bit for support.

"Really?" you deadpan. Robby shrugs at you. "Because I think you're sick and trying to hide it because you don't want to be sick and have tonight not happen."

"I'm fine," he protests. "I'm just excited for tonight!"

You step closer to him and raise your hand. "Let me feel your forehead then." Robby moves his head away and bats at your hand, a move he regrets immediately when his headache sears even worse and the world around him swims a little for a couple of seconds. "If you're fine why can't I simply feel your forehead?"

"It's not that you can't, you just don't need to," he mumbles.

"Michael," you say firmly, a hint of warning.

"Kid," Robby replies in the same tone.

You cross your arms over your chest. The man is stubborn, yes, but this is next level even for him. You know he knows he's sick. "What? Do I seriously have to threaten to cancel our date for you to let me feel your damn forehead? You're always handsome to me, Michael, but you look like you feel like shit right now. And you took off your jacket and undershirt."

The two of you engage in a short lived staring contest. "Fine," Robby grumbles.

"Thank you." You raise your hand again and place the back of it on his forehead. Unsurprisingly he's burning up, and your hand must feel cool enough to give him some relief because his shoulders sag and he leans his forehead into it. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Sit on the bed, please."

"Kid, please," he almost whines. He doesn't know why he's being like this, pushing you away and trying to keep pretending he's fine when he's so obviously not.

"You're at least 102. You can't be seeing patients like this and you shouldn't be pretending to be fine just so we can go on the fourth date and have sex. We're not having sex when you're clearly feeling terrible and trying to hide it!" you tell him exasperatedly.

Robby looks away sheepishly when you call him on it. He hates everything about this situation and his old fucking body for getting sick.

"Michael," you soften your voice, "please sit on the bed and let me take care of you." You wait until he looks back at you and then hit him with that face he can't say no to. "For me."

He sighs. "Only for you." But the way he sits on the bed and then lays fully on it instead of just sitting on the edge tells you he was ready to give in without the face. And he was. Sleep sounds so good right now and the standing was killing him.

"Thank you," you murmur to him, biting your tongue a little and not teasing him about how you asked him to sit on the bed, not fully get on it. The last thing you want him to do is try and get off it right now.

"Maybe I just need a couple hours of sleep and will wake up better," he mumbles as he lets his eyes close.

You give his thigh a quick squeeze as you grab the vitals cart and roll it over. "I truly hope that is the case because I hate seeing you feeling so awful but I think we both know that's pretty unlikely, Baby." You're quick to get a set of vitals from him, all of them about what you expected except his temperature. He's hotter than you thought. "102.9," you tell him a little sharply. "It's a good job you're already in an emergency room because we both know that's going to rise."

"I really did think I was just tired at first and then when it got worse I was trying to take it as easy as possible at the hub." You hum distractedly in acknowledgement as you log onto the computer in the room and start a chart for him. "I'm sorry, Kid."

He sounds so sick when he says it that it makes your heart ache, a feeling that only intensifies when you look over at him and see the apologetic smile he's trying to offer you through his obvious pain and discomfort.

"No," you sigh, "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be mean or make you feel bad. I just care, you know? I hate that you're so sick and I wish that I could just make you better." Robby hates the frown that you wear but before he can say anything to try and comfort you you're back into doctor mode, asking him this and that and what his symptoms are and when they started and what meds he's already taken and when.

When he mentions he has a headache you immediately turn all the lights off without even looking away from the computer. It's the smallest thing but it hits Robby hard in the moment even through his increasingly fever foggy mind, how loving and caring that one simple move was. It feels so representative of you and the way you treat him.

You log off the computer once you have all the info you need and have put in orders for him, planning on doing everything yourself. "We'll get you an IV and some fluids and another dose of pain meds with a fever reducer. Take some swabs and see what you've got and go from there. And you'll lay in here and rest as much as you can until further notice. Okay?"

Robby lingers right outside your door for a few seconds trying to decide what to do with himself. He needs to get the fuck out of this hallway before he totally loses it and bursts into tears, but he's still afraid to leave the hospital. To really leave you. He's convinced something will happen and you'll die the second he's not in the hospital and able to get to you quickly.

So he heads where he always does. To the roof.

He walks to the side of the roof opposite where he and Jack sometimes stand. It's like he doesn't want to taint it for Jack, thinks that if he just does it on the opposite side it'll make it easier for Jack to still come to the roof for solace and to escape because he won't have jumped from their normal side.

Robby sets down the couple of things he grabbed from your room and his backpack, steps through the railing to the other side. The wrong side. He leans a bit and looks down, tries to decide if the fall would really kill him or if he should do it another way.

He's so in his head he's not even aware at first that he's crying, that his eyes are so wet with tears he can hardly see the ground beneath his feet, let alone the ground beyond the ledge. When he realizes he can't see he takes a step back and holds onto the rail. Robby's knees buckle with his first audible sob and he falls onto them, the pain not breaking through his grief and sadness and sorrow and regret. His panic.

It seems fitting that the last time he sobbed this hard was after your seizure when you were in surgery, Robby thinks. He thought he was losing you then, thought he was going to watch you die. Now he knows he's lost you.

He crosses one foot over the other and sinks back onto his calves bowing his head so deeply his chin touches his chest. One hand holds onto the bottom rail in a subconscious attempt to keep himself grounded, and the other finds its way into his hair, fingers weaving between strands and then closing to make a fist.

Robby wants to do it. He wants to do it in a way he's never wanted to do it before.

He doesn't know how to cope with this level of pain and grief and regret. It wants to swallow him whole and Robby wants to let it. He doesn't see there ever being a day when it doesn't feel like this, when he's not in this much pain. There's no hope for that. No hope for your relationship. No hope for him. He's alone again.

He lost you. He finally pushed you too far and made you say you're done, made you give up on him and your relationship. He knows your 'I don't know' was as good as a no. He can't delude himself into thinking this is something the two of you have any hope in hell of coming back from.

And it's all his fault. All of this is his fault.

Taking his life is such a simple solution. He won't hurt anymore, won't be able to hurt you anymore. He won't be able to fail you anymore. He won't be able to hurt or fail anyone else, because his grief over Adamson and Leah and Jake are part of this too.

It'll be good for you, if anything. You won't have to deal with him anymore. You can move on and find someone better, someone actually deserving of you and your love. It's the right thing to do, even if it scares him.

He won't do it here, though. There are better ways, more efficient and less messy ways. Ways that will virtually guarantee death. Plus Jack is working tonight and Robby doesn't want to risk putting Jack through trying to save him, and doesn't want to risk Jack actually saving him with how good of a doctor Jack is.

"Robby."

He barely hears Jack's voice over his sobs, just shakes his head in response, makes no effort to stop crying. He knows he couldn't even if he tried.

"Hey, Robby." Jack steps through the railing, stethoscope clinking against the metal. He sits on the roof next to Robby with his legs out, back against the lower railing. "Robby can you look at me?" He squeezes Robby's shoulder. Robby shakes his head again, continues sobbing, a catharsis he can't stop. "Okay," Jack says quietly.

The two sit there together until Robby stops, Jack a quiet presence next to him that makes him feel somewhat less alone. But he still wishes it was you. Wishes he was down in your room with you even if you were mad at him and weren't talking to him. Wishes he could see you and know you're okay. Wishes he could take so many things back. Wishes he hadn't lost you.

Robby wipes his eyes and face on the sleeve of his jacket and shifts so he's sitting like Jack, legs out in front of him and back against the lower rail. The ache in his knees has finally become noticeable and all he can think is that he deserves it, deserves to hurt in every way possible.

"I really did it this time, Jack." Robby clears his throat. "I lost her. I fucked up again and I lost her and I don't know how to do this, how to…" He doesn't say live without her, in part because he can't acknowledge the reality and in part because he doesn't want to give away the suicidal thoughts he's having even though he knows Jack already knows.

Robby sees Jack nod slowly from the corner of his eye, neither of them looking at each other in favor of looking out at the city. "Did she say it was over?"

"She might as well have," Robby sighs. He bites his lip for a second and then forces himself to say it. "She said she was done right now and that she can't do this anymore so…" To Robby that's you saying it's over. That there's no hope, that you're done with him and don't want to try. "She said a lot. And it's on me, this whole thing is on me. If I hadn't said what I did in the supply closet she wouldn't have gotten hurt and she wouldn't be in the hospital and this wouldn't have happened."

"What exactly happened, Robby?" Jack sounds confused and when Robby glances over at him his eyebrows are furrowed. "I know she's been struggling harder recently, but this seems incredibly out of character for her even taking that into consideration."

"I happened," Robby scoffs at himself, holds the back of his neck and rubs it a little. "I pushed her too hard to do some PT. Decided to take a tough love approach for some stupid fucking reason and it escalated. She asked for some space and I got scared. I became terrified that if I left something terrible would happen to her or that she'd never let me back in." He shakes his head slowly as he pauses. "So I kept pushing her and the conversation because I was scared to leave instead of giving her space when she fucking begged me for it. She told me that she'd end up saying things she regretted if we didn't end the conversation and I didn't listen, I couldn't stop. She understandably snapped. I was too scared and let it control me and caused exactly what I was so scared of happening to happen."

Robby swallows thickly, a few tears falling despite the way he feels like he has no tears left. Because what you said did hurt. Badly. And while Robby feels like he deserved it and deserves the pain, he's still grappling with you hurting him, with how deliberate he knows it was, with some deeply buried anger at you for using Leah against him, with you getting mad at him when all he was trying to do was help.

"She said she was done and that she can't do this anymore and she kicked me out, and at the end she told me not to come back until she wants and asks me to come back. I asked her if she'd ever want me to come back and she said, she said she didn't know." Robby purses his lips and tries to fight back the urge to cry harder as he relives the moment. He lets out a shuddery breath. "And she told me that I broke her heart in the supply closet and that my words were like a bullet I shot through her heart that tore through it, just like what happened to Leah."

Jack's wince is audible, his cringe just as hard as when Robby told him what he said to you in the supply closet. "Yeah, that's… wow."

"And the thing is she's right, Jack. She's totally fucking right." Robby laughs sadly. "I'm a killer. This is what I do, I kill things, destroy them. I kill relationships. I kill people. Adamson. Leah. A little piece of Jake. I almost killed her. I did kill our relationship. I killed the one thing I let myself want for the last almost four years that I'd finally just gotten to have."

"That's not true, Robby. You're not a killer. You didn't kill Adamson or Leah. You haven't killed a piece of Jake. You don't kill relationships. You haven't killed our friendship." Jack nudges Robby with his shoulder. "And I know it's really hard to believe right now, but I don't think you've killed your relationship with her."

"I have though, Jack. There's no hope for us. I ruined it." He shrugs because it really is that simple. Things really are that black and white right now.

"Robby," Jack sighs gently, "your feelings are valid and of course you know better than me because you were there and you obviously know your relationship better, but from an outsider's perspective, it sounds like you guys got in a fight, she lost control of her emotions and she said things, some horrible things I know she already regrets, and that once she's had the space she needs you guys will come together and talk and figure it out. I'm not saying all will just be forgiven and it'll be like nothing happened, but I think there's plenty of hope that you guys will figure out how to heal and go forward."

"It's done Jack," Robby says with a little bite to it, looking over at Jack who's already looking at him. His tears have dried up again. "It's over. We're over. I lost her. I was so fucking worried about losing her that I pushed too hard and I lost her."

"Why is it over? Why is there no hope?" Jack challenges him. "Because you can't forgive her for the Leah comment?"

"Of course I can forgive her and we could work through that. I already have forgiven her in a way." He's almost offended by the question and makes sure it's in his voice so Jack knows. "There's no hope and it's over because how can she possibly forgive me for this, pushing her and disrespecting her by refusing to give her space until I'd pushed her past her limit and for everything I said in the supply closet? There's a limit to how much and how deeply you can hurt a person and expect their forgiveness and I think I've pretty obviously blown that limit here, Jack."

"I know it's easy for me to say, but I really don't think you have. She loves you Robby. She's not going to give up on you or your relationship this easily. She's wanted and waited for it just as long as you. I know the panic and the grief and the guilt are telling you there's no way, that there's no hope. I know how black and white everything feels right now. But that's a lie, that's your brain being a dick and lying to you." Jack's eyes are imploring, too much for Robby to stand right now. He has to look away.

"There is hope. You guys haven't even really had a chance to start properly working through everything that's happened as a couple. By yourselves or with a couple's therapist. You're in this totally abnormal and kind of fake environment right now in the hospital. There's no privacy, you can't talk without risking being interrupted, you can't touch the way you do at home, you can't just exist together like you can at home. I know you know that." Jack pauses, probably to try and let his words sink in but Robby doesn't believe him right now. He can't. "We've talked about that before, you've told me before that you're just having to accept right now that healing and working on your relationship is extremely difficult to do while living in the hospital. She knows that too. And we both know her. She's not going to give up on things without really getting a chance to try to heal and work through things."

Robby knows that Jack is trying to help, but it's getting irritating to hear and he's tired and he's hurting and his brain needs to protect him. "There's no hope, Jack," he snaps, "and it's kind of cruel to try and make me believe there is."

Jack shakes his head and lets out a huff of air telling Robby he's trying to control himself. "Yes, Robby. There is hope. There's hope at the very least because she's alive. She's alive and you don't get to throw that hope and that chance away. I won't let you." Jack's voice trembles just slightly, so subtle only someone as close to him as Robby would pick up on it. And Robby knows it's not anger or hurt or irritation. It's grief for his wife. Because Jack knows what no hope really looks and feels like. Robby knows Jack isn't trying to compare or say he had it worse, just using the reality of it to try and get through to Robby. "She's fucking alive and she loves you and cares about you and worries about you even when you've hurt her and she's still hurting. She fucking called me Robby. How do you think I knew to come up here?"

Robby blinks at Jack with furrowed brows. He hadn't actually thought about that, about how Jack ended up on the roof at the same time he was breaking down. Jack was just here on the roof with him, something they do together at times. "I…"

"It wasn't a fucking coincidence, I didn't come to the roof on my own and happen to find you, I didn't have a feeling. She called me," Jack tells him with a gentle emphasis on that last sentence. "She called me and asked me to find you because she loves you and she cares about you and she's worried about you and you killing yourself. She's so worried, so fucking terrified by the thought of losing you that she was in tears, Robby."

"Really?" Robby whispers, tears stinging his eyes again.

"Really," Jack nods. "And at the end of the call she asked me to tell you that she's so sorry for everything and that she loves you so much it hurts and she loves you more and always will. So there's hope, Robby. Don't let your brain sabotage this further and convince you that there's not."

Tears stream down Robby's face again and he covers his mouth with a hand to stifle a small sob. Even after everything, the supply closet, him pushing you way the fuck too far and making you snap and be angry with him and kick him out, you still thought of him. Still worried about him. And pretty immediately too with how little time passed between him getting to the roof and Jack appearing. He nods at Jack. It's scary but he's starting to believe it, not completely, but a little. That there is hope.

"Yes, she said those things, that she was done, and can't do this, and that she didn't know if she'd want you to come back, but that doesn't mean it's completely over now or forever, or that all hope is lost. She loves you and she cares about you." Jack lets out a slow breath and pauses, like he's trying to think. "Was hope lost after the supply closet before you found out it wasn't her? Let's just assume it had been her. Was there hope for her to cling to even when she probably felt like there wasn't, because, despite what you thought she did to you and despite everything you said to her, you had it in your heart to work through things and forgive her?"

That question slams into Robby, just like Jack probably wanted it to. It helps put things in perspective if only somewhat. Because there had been hope. He thought to himself at the time that he could forgive you. Even through all of his pain and anger and hurt and the betrayal he felt and even after all the things he said to you, there was hope. He had very explicitly said you were over and done, far more explicitly than you just now, and there was still hope.

"I, yeah, I thought that I could forgive her. That we might be able to work through it," Robby sniffles, wiping at his eyes, tears stopping. "It just feels, it feels so different on the other side, but I, I see it. What you're trying to point to. That hope." Robby loves Jack and is beyond appreciative to his friend for being here for and with him but Robby's rapidly getting tired and that post-emotional catharsis fog is setting in.

"Good," Jack nods. Robby can hear in Jack's voice how Jack knows he's done with this conversation. How he wants this conversation about hope to be over, doesn't want to talk about it anymore. And he finds that pretty ironic, almost wants to ask Jack to keep talking about it just to subject himself to his own medicine. "So, you wanna go to Dana's or to my place?"

Robby looks at Jack unimpressed. "No."

Jack huffs a laugh at Robby's unimpressed expression. "It's not a yes or no question Robby. You're actively suicidal, don't deny it. Or at least you just were and could slide back there incredibly easily. We both know it. And I know you have at least several ideas in your mind about how to do it, potentially several plans, so going home alone is not an option."

"That's fine," Robby shrugs. "I want to stay in the hospital somewhere anyway." Jack shoots Robby a look. "Don't look at me like that, Jack." The subtlest uptick of anxiety floods Robby's voice. "What if something happens and she's dying or she needs me and I'm not here? I have to be here if something happens, Jack."

"If something happens they'll call you and Dana or I will take you straight to the hospital. Neither of us live more than a 10 minute drive away, especially during the night. I assume you'll be working tomorrow for the distraction so you'll be here during the day. And she's okay and stable now, Robby," Jack reminds him. 'The chance of something serious and life-threatening happening is low. She loves you and she would want you to go get some good sleep on a real bed."

"Fine." Robby doesn't have it in him to argue about that and he knows Jack is right. He's not sure if his resolve is fading so fast because he's tired or because he really has hope. Or both. "But I see the hope. So I don't need to go to yours or Dana's-"

"No. You're going to Dana's with her or you're going to my place with me," Jack cuts him off. "I don't trust you Robby. In the same way you didn't trust me after."

"Come to my place with me then."

"No," Jack shakes his head. "Because I know you and you won't want to do anything in Dana's place or in mine and ruin our spaces for us. But you'll do it so fast in your own space if you slip back into that really active headspace. Especially after you walk in and see her all over your apartment, all her stuff that's made its way to your place. That pain and panic will take back over and you'll try even with one of us there because we won't be able to watch you literally every second."

The two stare at each other. Robby doesn't really want to have to go to someone's place. He hates feeling like others think he needs babysitted even though he knows Jack is one hundred percent correct. Where else would he really go though? He doesn't even really want to go back to his place. He doesn't want to see your presence in his apartment. He doesn't want to see that fucking cup of coffee.

He wants to go down to your room and slip in your bed beside you and apologize and hold you until you guys work this out. Wishful thinking for a multitude of reasons, he knows.

"I really don't want to have to 302 you, Robby, but I will if it's the only way to keep you safe." It's nearly word for word the exact same thing Robby said to Jack on this same roof after Jack's wife died. "You haven't once denied having suicidal thoughts because we both know you can't. And that's okay. But it means you can't be alone right now. So Dana's place or mine?"

Robby finally looks away from Jack and takes a deep breath. Some small part of him is still ready to jump up and fling himself off the roof before Jack can stop him. But there's that little glimmer. "You really think there's hope?" he asks Jack quietly.

"When have I ever lied to you Robby?"

Robby nods. For self-protection, his brain won't let him completely accept that there's hope, he can't really get his hopes up. But he can see and believe in just enough hope to get himself off the roof and through the night. "Okay. I'll go to Dana's since you're working and I can come in with her tomorrow."

"Okay?"

"That I think I can do," Robby jokes sleepily, the cutest drowsy smile on his face when his eyes open enough to see you walking closer to him.

"Good." You lean down and give him a forehead kiss and then pull the bed rail up, the other side already raised. "I'm gonna go get everything and some pillows and a few blankets for when the chills start. I'll be right back."

You collecting supplies gets Dana's attention, and the two of you are quickly able to get everything done so that Robby can get some sleep. After calling Jack you have to get back to your other patients but you keep an eye out for Robby's test results. You frown to yourself when they come in. It's exactly what you expected but some part of you was trying to delude yourself into believing that it was going to end up just being a cold.

He's asleep when you go in to let him know and you hate having to wake him, but he needs to start tamiflu. "Michael," you say softly, just above a whisper as you kiss his forehead again trying to wake him and also trying to get a read on his temperature. "I need you to wake up for me for just a minute." You run a hand through his hair and then drop your hand to his beard and scratch softly, coaxing him awake. Eventually his brown eyes flutter open for you, glassy and a little red. "Influenza A. I have some tamiflu for you."

Robby shifts on the bed, leans his face into your hand as he blinks awake, more awake than he really needs to be. He just wants a moment with you. But then he has a realization. "You're going to catch it from me. You should get me a mask and stay away." His voice is already quite hoarse.

"I'll be okay. And if you think I'm going to stay away you must be in some fever induced delirium." You do walk over to get him a mask though, more for others than yourself. "And we both know if I'm going to catch it that transmission has probably already happened. You might have even gotten it from me and I'm just not symptomatic yet."

He hums in response as you help support him so he can sit up enough to take the tamiflu with the water you've brought him. Robby sighs as he leans back onto the bed again. "I can't believe the flu is cock blocking me." You huff a laugh quietly since he has a headache and shake your head at him, smiling. His hand runs over the bed rail and sneaks under your shirt, fingers finding the waistband of your pants and underwear and slipping inside so that the pads of his fingers rub against the fabric of your underwear's waistband, the backs of his fingers against your skin. "Can I get another pair of underwear today?" he asks with big puppy dog eyes and a pout tugging against the fabric a little.

"Because you feel well enough to use them?" you smirk at him knowingly. "The wait just makes it feel even better, right?"

Robby almost whines. "I want you so badly," he croaks out, his throat rough.

"And I you," you promise him, smiling adoringly at him. "But I need you healthy."

He studies your face for a moment and smirks a little. "You're really worried," he teases.

"Of course I am, Michael!" you huff. "Imagine if our positions were reversed and I was the one in the hospital bed! How would you feel? Would you be worried?"

"Honey it's just the flu," he reminds you. "I'm only in a hospital bed because I happened to be here. I don't really need to be here, I could be at home in bed sleeping, but I know you'll want to go with me and you need to stay and work. They need you. It's bad enough I'm assuming you had to call Jack in on his day off so we have an attending."

You know he probably doesn't mean for it to feel like he's making fun of you for being worried and that it's you just being hypersensitive because you are so worried, but it still ends up feeling that way and hurts a little. "Hospital logistics and how I could really just be at home? That's what you'd be thinking about if I was the one in the hospital bed?"

Robby clicks his tongue and sighs while you grab the thermometer in the room and take his temperature. "That's not what I meant I-"

"103.2," you cut him off, reading out the measurement and then turning the device so he can see. "That's with fever reducers in your system. You'd tell anyone else to go to the hospital with that reading. So tell me again how this is no big deal and you could be sleeping it off at home. If our positions were reversed right now, maybe you wouldn't be worried about me but I'm worried about you and I'm not going to apologize for it." You drop the thermometer in his lap and walk out, his hand just a little too slow in trying to grab your waistband tight enough so you can't leave.

"Kid!" he calls after you as the door shuts.

Dana finds you an hour or so later. "His fever is down to 102.3 with more meds and some ice packs." She pauses for a second. "He's asking for you."

"He should be asleep," you mutter.

"I think the chills are making it hard for him to." She's wearing a little smile that tells you to go work it out with him when you look at her.

"Fuck. I was hoping he'd luck out and avoid them," you sigh, pushing out of your chair to go to him. You know you shouldn't have walked out like that, shouldn't have put that stress on him while he's sick. "Hi," you say softly as you walk in.

Robby's shivering hard in bed, even with a couple of blankets on him. You're sure he wants more but you don't want his temperature getting much higher than it is.

"I don't like it when you're mad at me." His teeth chatter as he speaks and seeing him this sick and shaking with chills makes your heart ache. You'd do anything to make him better.

"I wasn't mad, not really. I'm just worried and I let it come out poorly, I'm sorry." You find one of his hands once you're standing by his bed and hold it. "I know it's just the flu but we've both seen what just the flu can do, even to otherwise healthy individuals."

"I know," he whispers, anything louder clearly hurting his throat. "I'm sorry."

You shake your head at him. "I don't want you to apologize, I just want you to be okay."

"I will be." The smile he gives you is weak but it reaches his eyes. "I've got the best doctor taking care of me."

You smile back at him. "Jack will be offended." Robby shrugs at your words. "My shift is almost over. I'm going to run to my place and shower and pick up my car and then come back and take you home as long as your fever isn't too high, okay?"

"Okay," Robby agrees. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. I'll be as quick as I can, promise." With another lingering forehead kiss you leave him to rest more. You'd give him a kiss on the lips without hesitation but you know he'd push you away mumbling about not catching it from him.

A few hours later Robby can hear you trying to wake him, telling him it's time to go home. Home. With you. It sounds perfect. "I'm ready," he mumbles, forcing his eyes open and smiling lazily when your beautiful face greets him.

He doesn't remember much of getting home, little bits of conversation between you and Jack and Jack to him as you got him to your car. There's something about a tamiflu prescription and calling if you need anything and take it easy and listen to her. He's pretty sure he sleeps most of the short drive home, head pressed against the cool glass of the car, his chills having passed and turned into sweats as he tries to cool down.

Robby wakes up more when you pull into his place and help him get out. He doesn't notice the duffel bag with you, the one you already had packed to take to his place since you were supposed to be staying the next few nights anyway. When you get in he starts walking towards the bathroom, you watching carefully to make sure he's awake and okay enough to not stumble and fall.

"I'm gonna shower before I get in bed," he tells you as grabs an old shirt and pair of boxers and then opens the door to the master bath.

You eye him wearily. "Do you think I should help you with that?"

He'd make a joke about you just wanting to see him naked if he didn't feel so fucking miserable. "No. This is really not how I want to look when you see me naked for the first time." It might be stupid but he hates the thought of you seeing him so weak.

"You really think that matters to me, Michael? That I'm going to think any less of you or find you less attractive?" You raise your eyebrows at him a little.

"No, but it matters to me," he admits lowly.

You take in a breath and nod. You can understand that. If the situation were reversed you're sure you wouldn't want him seeing you naked like that for the first time. The thought of him showering alone worries you some though.

"I'll sit or call for you if I feel at all dizzy or like I'm going to pass out, I promise," he tries to reassure you. "And it's not going to be long, just enough to rinse. Bed sounds so good right now."

You give him a soft laugh through your nose even as some anxiety twists your stomach. But there's no intuition telling you not to let him shower alone. "Okay. I'll be right here if you need me."

"I mean I always need you," he jokes through a raspy voice that makes him wince.

"Same," you remind him. "So be careful."

While he showers you check on the groceries you scheduled to be delivered. Robby's even quicker than you imagined he would be, truly doing the bare minimum washing his hair and body with no soaking. Standing is too tiring.

His wet hair makes him look so boyish you can't help but smile even with as poorly as his posture and face tell you he's feeling. "Let's get you in bed." You stand up so that he can get in on his side of the bed. Robby doesn't need to be told twice, humming in response as he climbs in and curls up on his side, his eyes fighting to stay open the second his head hits the pillow. "Rest now, Baby."

You step back from the bed and move towards the door and not the other side of the bed to get in. Robby doesn't know how to ask. Or maybe it's just that he's scared of asking and facing your rejection as irrational as he knows that thought likely is. But he wants you. He wants you to stay. He wants to curl up on you or against you or have you hold him and let him be the little spoon.

"Stay," he whispers so quietly you almost miss it as you reach the door. "Please."

You look back at him and even in just the ambient lighting slipping in through the curtains and from the rest of the house through the open door you can see his brown eyes pleading with you. It's not even the puppy dog looks he gives you on occasion. These eyes reveal how vulnerable he's being by asking, how worried he is you'll say no and leave him to care for himself, how he feels like he doesn't know how to ask, how he's not used to being cared for how you've cared for him up to now.

"Of course," you smile at him, "I brought a whole bag and everything." You nod over at the duffel. "I got some groceries delivered that I'm going to put away quickly and then grab a few things and I'll be right back. I promise. You're not getting rid of me, Robinavitch. I'll be here taking care of you until you're better."

"Thank you," he whispers with a small smile. He feels a little bad for doubting you but he's so used to having significant others leave figuring that he can take care of himself since he's a doctor. And he can, sure. But it's nice not to have to.

You're true to your word, grabbing the groceries from the front door and only bothering to put the perishables away, leaving the rest on the counter for later. You grab some drinks and snacks for the both of you, all the meds you need, your phone and a charger and head back into Robby's room. "I'm back," you whisper in case he's asleep, setting everything on the nightstand on your side of the bed as quietly as possible.

"Good," he mumbles.

With him half asleep you stand behind Robby and slip into an old t-shirt you sleep in and a pair of pajama shorts. "Do you want me close or do you like some space when you're sick?" you ask as you slide in bed next to him.

Robby groans to himself as he rolls over so he can see you. He hasn't been this sick with such bad body aches in a long time. "Close." He smiles sheepishly at you. "If that's okay. It's okay if it's not."

"It's more than okay, it's what I was hoping you'd say, selfishly." His brows raise in slight confusion at that. "Having you close is reassuring. I feel like I can keep a better eye on you. So you get me into whatever position you'd like that's comfy for you and then get back to sleep," you say with mock sternness and a smile. You lean over to kiss his forehead before laying back on your pillow and nodding at him encouragingly. You get the feeling you may have just awakened a clingy monster in him and you love it and are so ready for it.

It takes him a second to move because he's still a bit stunned that you're really here taking care of him and letting him move you into the position he wants. Putting his comfort and care first. That you're willing to be stuck under him while he sleeps, especially when he's probably going to get you all sweaty at some point. He can't remember the last time he was taken care of like this, the last time he was allowed to just be sick and lean into it and feel miserable and cling to his partner. But then he supposes he's never had his person while this sick.

Robby moves you just a little, lowering himself on top of you so he can sleep on you, his head on your chest, arms under your shoulders and his chest and abdomen pressed to your abdomen until his body hits the bed between your legs. You have your arms wrapped around him and your legs over his as much as possible before he can even ask if this position is okay and you're comfortable. He lets himself relax against you completely.

"Does this hurt?" you ask as you start running your hand through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp intermittently, conscious of him having a headache earlier.

"It feels so fuckin' good," Robby groans, melting further against you somehow. "Thanks for taking care of me."

His words are adorably sleep slurred and you giggle a little. "Of course, Baby. I always will. Whenever you need."

You're not sure how much time has passed when there's a knock on your door. Whoever it is doesn't wait for you to call out a come in. You know it has to be Jack then because the nurses and doctors always announce themselves as they walk in and nobody else would walk in without getting your okay first. You're surprised he came.

Jack closes the door and raises his eyebrows at you slightly. "Told you I'd come check on you after I got him safe." He grabs what used to be Robby's chair and slides it over closer to your bed, sits in it.

You assume Jack doesn't really want to be here. Not if Robby told him how fucking awful you were. You and Jack are close but not as close or in the same way as he and Robby. "He asked you to come check on me?"

Jack takes a breath in and holds it, clearly trying to think of what to say. You already know the answer. He lets the breath out and confirms it. "No, he didn't."

The flood of hurt and shame that overwhelms you makes it difficult to even look in Jack's direction. You know you have no right to feel hurt by that. Robby shouldn't care about you, not after what you said. You stare down at your hands, fiddle with your fingers in your lap. "Where is he?"

He lets out a breath and sinks into the chair a little more. "With Dana."

You let out a huff of air in an attempt at a sad laugh. "She's going to fucking hate me when he tells her what I said."

"She's not going to hate you." Jack shoots you a pointed look.

"Yes she will. Or even if she doesn't, she'll never forgive me even if Michael does. She has the softest of soft spots for him, you know that." You shake your head and sigh. "I don't want to argue about that right now, Jack. Please."

He nods. You hate yourself for thinking it but god you wish Robby would've done what Jack just did and not force a conversation on you.

"What were you going to do if I couldn't get away or wasn't here?" There's genuine curiosity in his voice.

You shrug. "Go after him myself."

Jack blinks at you and nods slowly. "You struggle to walk without assistance still," he points out.

You laugh sadly and return your gaze to Jack. "It would amaze you what a woman is capable of doing to make sure the love of her life doesn't kill himself."

"True." He smiles at you.

"I would have literally dragged myself around looking for him if that's what it came to." You swallow hard and look away from Jack. "Was he thinking about it?" you ask quietly. You already know the answer, but you need Jack to confirm it.

"Yeah," Jack nods, "pretty seriously too I think, honestly. He was on the roof, but that's not how he'd do it. It's just where he'd find the resolve to do it."

Despite knowing it was coming, Jack's answer is still like a knife to whatever tiny piece of your heart is left. You made Robby want to kill himself. You made your Michael want to kill himself. A few tears slide down your cheeks at the thought. Jack grabs a tissue from the box and hands you it.

"I just made him want to kill himself, Jack," you sniffle, voice unrecognizably high-pitched as you try not to completely lose it. "How do we ever come back from that?"

He shakes his head. "I understand why you feel like that and it's valid to feel like that, but we both know that's not true, that it doesn't work like that. It wasn't you that made him get to that point."

You know Jack's right, but your heart won't let you believe him right now. Robby wanted to kill himself because of you. Because of what you did to him. "It was my words. How I treated him. How I kicked him out and said I was done even when I'm not and said I didn't know if I'd want him to come back when I know I will. Did he tell you? What I said? About Leah." You blot away your tears.

"He did, yeah." Jack grimaces. "Pretty rough," he admits, not shying away from it like some people might, "but so was everything he said to you in the supply closet from what he's told me. Not that it's a tit for tat thing and the two just nullify each other, I know."

You're quiet for a moment. "Yeah, but all he was doing when I fucking threw Leah in his face was trying to help. That's all he's been doing this entire time. Showing up for me and helping and supporting me. Trying to stop my depression from taking my progress from me, fighting it when I wasn't. Moving into the hospital for me. Putting his entire fucking life on hold. And I said thank you by yelling at him, using one of his most horrific traumas against him, kicking him out and making him want to kill himself."

"You're his entire fucking life," Jack pushes back a little.

"Was," you murmur. Jack raises an eyebrow at you. "I was his entire fucking life. Now I'm just what makes him want to end it."

"No," Jack shakes his head. "He-"

"He wouldn't have been up on the roof if I hadn't said what I did and kicked him out, Jack!" you cut him off. "He was down, he has been down since this happened, since the morning of the day of PittFest and I fucking took advantage of it and kicked him while he was down. Stomped on him. Shoved a fucking knife in his heart. I mean what the fuck? What the fuck was I doing? I don't know how to ask him to forgive me. I don't know if he should, or if he should even consider it. It was fucking deliberate, Jack. I brought her up deliberately because I wanted him to hurt like he made me hurt in the supply closet and I wanted him to just shut up and leave me alone." You pause and shake your head. "I just wanted an hour of space and instead I made him want to kill himself."

"It's not you. It's not. He doesn't blame you, he's not thinking oh she was so mad at me and said this hurtful thing and kicked me out and I'm so hurt by her and sad because of her that I want to kill myself. He blames himself. He thinks it's him, that he pushed you and he lost you and so it's his fault. He traces it all the way back. If he hadn't said what he did in the supply closet you wouldn't have gotten hurt and you wouldn't be in the hospital and this wouldn't have happened." Jack catches your eye contact and holds it. "It's not you."

You want to believe him, you really do. But it's hard to. "I don't know, Jack. Post hoc ergo propter hoc."

"Is a literal logical fallacy," he cuts you off. "I know you know that."

"You're not going to get me to change my mind right now Jack." You shrug. "We're just going to go in circles and that's not fair to you. It's a waste of your time and I'm sure you need to get back down there."

"I have time," he says definitively.

"Spend it on something better, something worthwhile," you fire back.

Jack keeps your gaze again for a couple of seconds before looking away and letting the silence live. Again he doesn't force the conversation on you, and again you find yourself wishing Robby could've been like him.

After a few minutes, though, Jack does break the silence. He looks like he just put something together. "You said goodbye." You look at him questioningly, shaking your head slightly. "When you called me. You didn't say bye. You said goodbye, right after asking me to tell Robby you love him and that you're sorry."

You blink at him, trying to play it off so he'll let it go even though you know he won't. "And?"

He cocks his head at you, gives you a look that tells you he knows you know what he's talking about. "You gonna try?"

"Does it matter if I do?" you mumble.

"Yeah," Jack scoffs a laugh. "Especially if you succeed." He shakes his head at you and lets out another long breath. "There's no talking Robby off that roof."

You shrug. "He'd be fine. Might take a while, but he would be. I mean truly, Jack, he didn't even ask you to check on me."

"We both know that's bullshit. I know your brain is being a dick and won't let you see it, but we both know that's bullshit. And I think we both know your justification isn't that you think he'd be fine and survive it, but that you think he'd be better off if you were dead." You look away from him at that because it's true and you hate that he could see it so easily and that he called you on it. "I cannot tell you how wrong that is. He wouldn't be."

"That was fucking rude," you mutter. You're not mad at him, you're annoyed with yourself for being so transparent right now. You prefer hiding and dealing with things on your own, especially something like this.

Jack cracks a little smile at that for a second, but grows serious again. "Do you have a plan?"

You sigh, rub your hands over your face. "No. I just thought about doing it. That maybe it would be what's best for him and the best apology I could give him. I thought about how I could leave a note or record a video apologizing and stuff. I'm too tired to think of a plan, much less figure out how to execute it here."

Jack nods slowly and leans forward in the chair. He squeezes your forearm with one hand to get you to look at him. "I watched that man sob like I've never seen from him before, watched him come fully fucking unglued in observation while watching you be operated on out of sheer fear of losing you. Twice. And I watched him sob just as hard tonight if not harder because he thinks he has lost you, that there's no hope for the two of you because of his actions and words."

You don't think the two of you are beyond hope. The thought kind of makes you sick because it's Michael. You need him and you want him. You love him. Even after what he said in the supply closet and the way he wouldn't leave you alone. "We're not, things aren't…I," you stutter. "There is hope, Jack. I don't want him to think there's not, you have to tell him there is."

"I know," Jack nods, "and I did. I was just able to talk him down and get him to see that there is hope, so I promise you that I know he would not be fine if you killed yourself. If you weren't alive and there was literally no hope, I wouldn't have been able to talk him down tonight. He'd be 302-ed and in the hospital. It took a lot but eventually I got him to believe that there's at least some hope and so he agreed to go to Dana's. I don't know how long his belief will last, but the fact that you are still alive and that there is still hope for the two of you is what he's clinging to."

Jack's eyes plead with you to believe him. "I know your brain is telling you something else and that it's much easier to believe it than me but your brain is wrong. If you killed yourself he wouldn't be fine, it wouldn't be what's best for him, it wouldn't be some act of love setting him free or the best apology or whatever else your brain is telling you to try and justify it. It would destroy him. The exact same way him killing himself would destroy you."

Your chin and lips tremble as Jack speaks, the urge to cry growing stronger and stronger. "I…" Hot tears slide down your cheeks and over the back of your hand as you bring it to your mouth to cover your sobs. "I'm sorry," you finally choke out between sobs, dropping your hand, "I'm sorry, Jack." You gulp in hiccuped breaths trying in vain to calm yourself down, use the tissues Jack places in your lap to wipe your tears and nose.

"I love him. I really do, I, I, I promise I do and I miss him," your voice breaks at the end. "I hate myself and I feel awful, and I," your voice breaks and you take in a shuddery breath as the tears fall harder. "I'm so tired," you whisper, barely audible. "In every sense of the word, in every way. I'm so fucking tired, Jack." Even you can hear the defeat and aching sadness in your voice.

"I know," Jack whispers, "I know." And you know he does, know he gets it better than most. "I think you're overly tired right now and it's been a very difficult and long day and you need to get some sleep. At the very least it should help you feel a bit more in control when you wake up."

You nod, knowing he's right as scary as trying to sleep and being left alone with your thoughts feels. "I feel like I don't even know how to sleep without him at least in the room," you sniffle sadly.

"You want me to have Dana bring him back?" Jack asks with a small tilt of his head.

"I, I…" You shake your head, sobbing so hard you choke on your breath a little. "I still need space, I hate, I hate it but I do." While you do feel like you still need some space, there's a part of you, however irrational, that worries Robby wouldn't come back. "I'm too tired to talk and I can't, can't have him refuse to listen and stop talking. I'm sorry, Jack. I'm so sorry for all of this."

"Hey, hey," Jack says softly, his hand squeezing your forearm gently again, "you have nothing to apologize for, especially not to me. And you're allowed to need space. Do you want me to talk to your doctor and get you something to help you sleep?" You nod at him while trying to pull yourself together. "Okay."

Jack calls your nurse and gets her to speak with your doctor. She comes back into your room a few minutes later with some meds, administers them and then leaves you and Jack alone once more.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep," Jack tells you quietly.

"You don't have to do that." You dab at your eyes and blow your nose, calming down some as you feel sleep coming for you quickly.

"I know," he nods. You can feel him looking at you for a couple of seconds before he speaks further. "Can I tell him what you said earlier? That you're not done and you know you'll want him to come back."

"You can tell him whatever you want Jack," you shrug, taking in a big shuddery breath and then yawning. Your eyelids flutter as you fight to keep them open. "Who knows what good it'll really do. Because once he sleeps and gets some clarity and is rational… I won't be anything in his life anymore. He'll realize there's no way to forgive me, that he shouldn't. And I'll have lost him."

"I don't think that's true, but just get some sleep right now, okay?" Jack's voice sounds far away as your eyes close.

All you can do is hum in acknowledgment at him as you slip under.

"You have plans the third weekend in August, just so you know. Make sure you don't double book yourself," Robby murmurs in your ear, stepping up behind you while you look at the August schedule in the breakroom.

You smile amusedly to yourself and tilt your head, look at Robby as he walks by you to head to the floor. "What exactly are said plans? Because I don't remember making any."

Robby fake gasps as you step out onto the floor together. "That Saturday is our four month anniversary! How could you forget? I'm hurt."

You snort at him. "That feels vaguely ad hominem given that asking what the plans are because I don't remember making any doesn't mean I didn't remember it was our four month anniversary."

"Did you?" Robby smirks.

"No," you admit, "but I also don't know what today is Michael. The day or date. Right now I'm in days are either a work day or an off day mode. Though I can tell you this Saturday is a full moon."

"I'm sensing there's a story to you knowing that," Robby observes as you walk up to the hub.

"I don't work that Saturday and so Jack asked me if I'd cover his shift for him, which I actually almost did just for the night shift throwback, but he had no real reason for wanting it covered which was suspicious. So I looked up the date and there it was. Full moon. So I told him I'd have to pass." You smirk as Jack walks up for hand off and stands on the other side of Robby. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear."

Jack raises his eyebrows and cocks his head. "And why were you speaking of me?"

You smile sweetly at him. "I was sharing that you tried to trick me into working a night shift on a full moon."

"Ha!" Jack laughs. "Trick is a strong word." He looks at Robby.

"I'm taking you to my cabin up on the lake that weekend. We'll head up Friday, come back Monday night. I made sure we both had the time off." Robby smiles down at you.

"Oh the betrayal!" You clutch at your heart dramatically. "Changing the subject for your bestie instead of supporting your girlfriend in making his trick by omission ways known! Maybe you should take Jack instead?"

"Already been," Jack smirks at you. "Multiple times. Have my own room and everything."

You roll your eyes at him, all of the teasing between you and Jack good natured and fun. "Well he's going to like being there with me more than with you." You raise your eyebrows in a 'take that' way.

Jack's smirk remains as he raises his own eyebrows back at you in an amused challenge. "Why's that?"

It's still just the three of you in a row on one side of the hub so you lean forward a bit so you're pressed against the counter and able to look at Jack better. You narrow your eyes and smirk at him, lower your voice a little. "Because with me he gets to spend all weekend doing whatever he usually does with you with me and he gets to spend all weekend in my pu-"

"Okay!" Robby interjects, drawing the word out and clapping his hands. His cheeks and neck are slightly flushed as he clears his throat, nods to the others now coming over. "Handoff time. What should we know Dr. Abbot?"

You and Jack both burst into laughter and bump Robby with your sides. Jack pulls it together and starts running the board and it's not long before assignments have been given and everyone is dissipating into the madness.

"Hey," you say softly to Robby before he can walk away. You smile at him and squeeze his forearm. "Thank you. For planning the trip to the cabin. I'm really looking forward to it."

The time between Robby telling you about the trip to the cabin and actually getting to the cabin goes by surprisingly fast.

The cabin is on Sandy Lake, a little over an hour from Pittsburgh, has a private dock and, according to Robby is 'secluded enough' and 'nice enough.' You're particularly intrigued to find out what nice enough means to him because he'd seemed almost embarrassed when he told you. As far as you're concerned, as long as it's clean, has a bed, indoor plumbing and electricity it will be perfect.

Robby's hand rests on your thigh as he drives the two of you up there, looking painfully handsome and hot in his sunglasses and buffalo plaid flannel. It's not really fall in August in Pennsylvania, the leaves haven't really started turning, but there's a cold front moving through that has dropped the temperature enough for jeans and flannels and cabin coziness, especially at night.

You rest your hand on top of Robby's, play with his fingers at times while chattering away how you do. He loves it about you. That you know when it's okay and when to stop because he needs quiet without him saying anything. You can just read him. He keeps glancing over at you to admire your profile especially when the late morning sun streams in your window and backlights your face so perfectly.

The outside of the cabin is unassuming as you pull up, no neighbors in sight. It's a classic wooden cabin with no outside frills. It looks big enough without being too big and is framed beautifully by a mix of evergreen and deciduous trees and the lake behind it. It's beautiful now but it must be something else during peak fall and in the snow.

"It's beautiful, Michael," you murmur as he parks. Robby gives you a lopsided smile as he gets out of the car and gets your door and the bags you'd packed together for the long weekend.

You take in a deep breath once you're outside and have taken a few steps from the car. "God, the air here, it's so…" You try to think of a word as you tip your head back and close your eyes, a sliver of sun peaking through the trees and warming your face a little.

"Clean?" Robby volunteers with a smirk while unlocking the front door.

"Well I was trying to find a more elegant word, but yes. Clean." You take in another breath and look around more. "Fresh. And crisp."

Robby watches you take it all in. He could watch you like this forever, the way your eyes delicately trace your surroundings and your mouth so seamlessly moves into different expressions. The cuteness aggression slams into him and he has the urge to go squeeze you what would surely be too tight and bite you when he watches you smile brightly when you see a chipmunk on one of the trees.

"Alright, clean, fresh, and crisp, would you like to see the inside?" he calls to you after a few minutes.

"Yeah, sorry!" You smile as you turn and walk to the front door. "I got distracted."

Robby smiles at you just as hard. You think it almost looks longing in a way, like you're not right here and his. It's a feeling you understand well. "Nothing to apologize for Kid." He leans down and kisses you sweetly before opening the door for you.

You walk in and the interior is equally as beautiful, the perfect balance of rustic cabin with modern touches. It's an open floor plan, the kitchen, dining room and living room not separated by any walls, the back wall all glass windows giving a stunning view of the lake. There's a beautiful real wood fireplace and immediately all you can think of is Michael fucking you in front of it when it's on at some point during the winter with snow falling outside.

"We need to work on your definition of nice enough, Michael." You glance at him as you walk over to the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "Because this is quite far beyond nice enough."

Robby lets out a bit of a relieved sigh, watching you as you stick your head in the spare room and guest bathroom. He was pretty sure you'd like it but he was worried anyway that you wouldn't. You heading into the master bedroom spurs Robby to follow you, bringing the bags with your clothes and toiletries with him.

"Very nice," you say softly as you walk in. There's a plush king size bed in an understated, beautiful rustic bed frame with a slatted headboard, typical bedroom furniture and beautiful photographs of what look to be the area decorating the walls. "I like the headboard," you wink at him.

You stop walking when you hit the en suite. "Wow." The bathroom itself is, of course, beautiful like the rest of the cabin, but it's the tub that makes you stop. Next to the shower is the biggest and deepest clawfoot tub you've ever seen. It's obviously made to be big enough for two people, even if one of them is Robby size. The water spigot is on one side in the middle of the tub so that you can sit on either end and has a handheld shower head to rinse with. "That is a tub."

"Mhm," Robby hums, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. He rests his chin on your shoulder. "It's cast iron so it holds heat really, really well."

"Did it come with the place or did you buy it?" You lean your head against his, bring a hand up and rest it on the outside of his face at his jaw, fingers scratching through his beard how you've learned he loves.

"I'll consider telling you the story when we're in it together, okay?" he murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut at how good you scratching through his beard feels.

"Consider?" you gasp, feigning shock and upset. "What can be so special about this tub you'll only consider it?"

Robby smiles to himself but you can feel it with how your faces are pressed together. He takes a breath in and pulls you against him tighter. "Maybe you'll find out," he teases. He turns his head and kisses your temple and then pulls away.

"I better find out," you grumble as you walk back out to the living room. "It really is gorgeous, Michael." You smile at him as you speak and then look around more.

"Sure is," he murmurs to himself, looking at you and not the cabin. "I'm glad you like it."

You walk slowly towards the glass door to the patio. "We're taking the tub. If we sell this place and buy a new cabin at some point."

Robby frowns. He thought you liked the place but apparently not if you're already thinking about selling it. "Why would we do that?"

You turn at the door to look back at him, rest your hand on the door handle. "If we have kids we'll need a bigger one. Uncle Jack has to have his own room to brag about, right?"

The way you say it is so casual, like it's obvious, like the first sentence doesn't rock Robby's world and turn his brain to static every time he hears you say something about having kids.

You don't wait for Robby's answer, turning around and opening the door so you can step out onto the patio. It's a raised deck with railing running along the sides. It's big enough for a nice size patio table and chairs and a grill with space to spare. A set of steps coming off it lead down to the grassy area in front of the lake that turns into a small, more tiny pebbles than sand beach. The stairs connect with a walkway leading from them to the private dock. Robby told you he has a small fishing boat in the shed off to the side.

While you're on the patio looking around, Robby is stuck in his spot in the cabin, his mind replaying you saying if we have kids over and over and over. His head is a little fuzzy and he can never decide if it's truly because of your words and the thought of having kids with you or because the words and thoughts send what feels like all the blood in his body to his cock.

And this is you. This is a you thing. The idea of having kids with any of his previous girlfriends didn't make him react like this. He didn't have this breeding kink as you call it until you. He doesn't think he really wanted kids, Jake aside of course, until you. The thought of having kids with you makes him as emotional as it does horny if he thinks about it for too long. The idea that you want to have his child, want to let him get you pregnant and mix your genetics with his and bring his baby, potentially babies, into the world all perfect and innocent and good and half you and half him is something he struggles to wrap his head around and that he isn't sure he deserves and that leaves him wanting to cry.

Robby forces himself to come back to and move so that he's following you out onto the patio. But exploration and looking around time is over for now.

"We could also just build onto this place. I'd kind of like that because this place feels perfect," you say when you hear Robby walk onto the patio, still looking out at the lake. "A couple bedrooms, a play room that could turn into a game room as everyone gets older, maybe. I don't know what the building codes and permitting processes are-"

You yelp a little as Robby grabs your hips and spins you so that you're looking at him. "Say that first part again." His voice strains against the words.

Your brows furrow a little, confused by the sudden intensity and hunger that Robby's looking down at you with. "We could also just build onto this place?"

A week has passed since Robby last saw you and spoke to you.

Seven days.

Robby can't remember the last time he's gone an entire week without seeing you. He's not sure he ever has. You never took a long vacation during your residency. Neither did he. Every conference you went to he ended up going to as well and those were never a week anyway.

And now it's been a whole week without you.

He throws himself into work to avoid having to think about it, seven shifts in seven days with no intention of taking a break anytime soon. The more days that pass the less people look at him with what he thinks are pitying eyes. He goes straight from work to Dana or Jack's. He makes himself keep his therapy appointment that week but it's a quiet session. Sometimes he puts something on the TV and zones out on the couch but every show and movie seem to remind him of you. So more often than not he just leaves work and goes straight to bed.

It makes it seem like he should be well-rested, like he's getting the most sleep he's gotten in a long time but it's terrible sleep. He tosses and turns the entire time, dreams of you and things that could've been. Things that were.

He doesn't understand it. Jack told him what you said that night it all happened, that you weren't done and you knew you'd want him to come back. It had given him hope, more hope than he had after he and Jack spoke that night. Hope he let himself buy into fully. And then this. He knows it should make sense with Jack also telling him that you said you hated yourself and were beating yourself up for what you said.

But he just can't wrap his mind around it. Or maybe he can and just won't let himself.

The complicated grief and sadness and hurt and feelings in general fuck with his mind. Because, yeah, he misses you, wishes you guys could talk and figure it out, but you still said what you did. You hurt him, so incredibly deeply. You threw his trauma in his face and he struggles to know what to do with that. How to forgive and heal. He's not sure he'll ever be able to figure it out by himself, without you.

Over the week patients come in that are particularly difficult for Robby to see and treat. Assault victims with head injuries, head injuries in general, seizures.

Dana finds him alone outside after one such patient. She was around your age, talking one moment and seizing the next, rushed to surgery with her partner looking on hopelessly and terrified. It was close to home to say the least. "You okay?"

Robby starts to nod but he turns it into shaking his head. Of course he's not okay. Of course he's thinking about you. What's the point in denying it?

"No," he mutters, running a hand through his hair and then grabbing the back of his neck. "Everything reminds me of her. Patients like that. Ordering certain meds because she was on them. Even certain BP and pulse readings I remember her having, sometimes. And then there's all the shit that happens down here that I know I'd go home and tell her about if we weren't working together for some reason. All the things she'd laugh about if she saw. I swear I can hear her laugh in my head sometimes like she's standing right beside me. Sometimes I see something and make a mental note to remember so I can tell her once I'm off and then I remember. I can't. Because she's… not here."

"I know, Hon," Dana murmurs, squeezing his arm with a small, sympathetic smile.

"I don't know how to do this Dana." Robby bites his lip to fight back the tears and try to hide the way it trembles. "I don't know how to keep pretending everything is okay."

"You don't have to pretend," she reminds him.

"Yeah I do or I'll fall apart," he admits with a shrug. "I can't stop. I try so hard not to let myself feel anything, to avoid that part of reality right now. And I know it's not healthy but it's the only thing keeping me on my feet, and no, I don't know what I'm going to do once my ability to avoid it goes away."

"Jack and I aren't going to let you self-destruct, Robby. No matter how much you want to." She moves to stand by him and wraps an arm around him.

"I'd do anything, Dana," Robby says through a shaky breath, "I'd give fucking anything to go back in time and make it so that none of this happened."

"I know you would and I wish I could help you and give you that option," Dana murmurs, face furrowed in concern and empathy.

"I know, thank you." Robby shakes his head and takes in a deep breath. "We've gotta go back inside, I can't stay out here, it's all slipping away from me and I can't."

He and Dana walk back inside and he heads to the men's room to splash some water on his face. He's surprised when Jack walks in. It's only three or so. "Why are you here so early?"

Jack shakes his head as he runs his eyes over the stalls to make sure all the doors are open and the two are alone. "I'm not. I don't work today, I'm just here to visit." The water Robby's splashed on his face and is trying to dry must be a giveaway. "Bad day?"

"They all are anymore," Robby shrugs.

"That's fair." Jack takes a couple of steps closer to Robby. "Anything in particular about today?"

"Patient that reminded me of her." Robby sighs heavily. "I swear everything everywhere reminds me of her, but especially here. It makes it hard to be here sometimes. And then I think about how fucking lucky I am to get to be here, to have all this as a distraction because she's sitting up there alone most of the day except when she gets visitors and she hates that, I know."

Jack nods. "Yeah, she mentioned it when I visited her yesterday."

Robby tilts his head at Jack slowly, face setting. "Mentioned what?"

"That she's been feeling the loneliness and that I'm the only one who's been to see her." Jack frowns.

"Oh my fucking god," Robby breathes out, his heart shattering at the thought. He turns around so his back is to Jack and leans on one forearm against the wall. He's trying to curb the overwhelming urge to give into his trembling chin and cry. He doesn't know what he expected but he thought the others would have tried to see you, Dana, though Robby supposes she's been busy babysitting him when she's not at work for the most part.

He knows how much you hate feeling alone, how hard of an emotion it is for you to cope with, how depressed and anxious it gets you and how fast. That's why you only asked for space. You just wanted a little time alone, not enough to feel truly lonely. And then Robby pushed you and you kicked him out and you've effectively been alone for an entire week. He's made you be alone for an entire week.

He hates this. He hates all of it so much he could scream and it wouldn't come anywhere near close to catharsis. He hates that he caused it and that he can't fix it and the thought of you all alone.

"In fairness to the others, she hadn't wanted visitors before and they're just trying to respect that, I think," Jack offers.

"Did any of them think to fucking ask her when they noticed me working full time again out of the blue?" He doesn't need Jack to tell him the answer. Robby turns back to Jack. "She's been alone except for you this entire time?" Jack nods.

Robby wants to be sick. That is so much time alone. Alone with your thoughts. And he knows your thoughts can get dark like his, even if you've never explicitly told him you've been suicidal before. He just knows.

But up until now Robby hadn't even considered the possibility that maybe you'd want to take your own life. It hadn't been on his radar, wasn't something he thought about or was worried about. Now it seems obvious and he feels like an idiot and a piece of shit for not realizing you might be suicidal and that maybe he should've sent someone to you that night. He knows Jack went to see you but that's not the same as him sending Jack to you the way you sent Jack to him.

"It's gotta be a miracle she's even fucking alive," Robby mumbles, a thinly veiled ask for Jack to confirm what just occurred to him. He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head, still struggling to process just the idea of a reality where you do that. Take your own life. Maybe he's wrong. He hopes he's wrong.

"Less a miracle and more a safety plan discussed and adjusted as needed every day," Jack admits. "She's never had a plan, just ideation. And it's not just me, she decided to pull a psychiatrist and a therapist in. I know that much."

Jack's words, his confirmation, rock Robby. You were suicidal. You are. His girl. His woman. Thinking about killing herself. Seriously enough to have Jack making a fucking safety plan with you. And he can't even be there for you because he pushed you away. He stops breathing for a minute from how badly his heart and entire being fucking hurt at the thought.

Obviously he knows what it feels like to be that low, to be suffering so greatly that your mind turns on you, how truly fucking awful those emotions are to feel and endure. Even he hasn't been suicidal the entire time. It's ebbed and flowed with how much he's able to remind himself of the hope, but it doesn't appear the same can be said for you. The night on the roof was his worst night. The rest has been passive in comparison.

Robby never truly stops to consider why you're suicidal, why you might think it's a good idea, what's underlying those thoughts. It's like his brain can't let himself go there. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jack shrugs. "You weren't thinking about it and it didn't seem like it would do any good to tell you. It wouldn't have helped her or you."

"I hate this Jack, I hate this so fucking much." Robby paces a little. "I feel like I'm slowly losing my fucking mind and bleeding out and I know that's melodramatic but it's suffocating knowing she's up there and struggling and now knowing she's ideating and I can't do fucking anything about it because I fucked up so badly."

He runs both hands through his hair, hunching his shoulders and dropping them. "I need to see her Jack. God, even to just lay eyes on her at this point. I miss her more than I know what to do with and I need to fucking see her. I need to tell her, beg her, whatever, to not do that, to try and help her not feel that way, not even have the thoughts. I need her to know I love her. I want to say fuck it and go back to her but I know that'll just obliterate any hope."

"I know," Jack murmurs, seeming to know there's really nothing else he could say that would help Robby or that Robby wants to hear. "But she knows you love her."

"How bad has it been for her?" Robby's voice is quiet. It sounds like he almost doesn't want to know the answer. In a way he doesn't, not unless it's good news.

"It's clearly and visibly been… difficult." Robby knows that pause and search for the right word means it's been fucking awful. "She just looks sad and defeated, you know? She doesn't seem to be eating much or sleeping well. That spark she normally has is still missing."

Robby's face breaks, the way he's hurting and the depth of it so clear. "Is she doing any therapy? Maintaining things physically?"

"I don't know. I haven't brought it up. I don't want to push her." Jack pauses and then lets out a breath. "Listen, I'm gonna go visit her right now and feel out how she's doing today and see what I can find out and share, okay?"

"Yeah," Robby whispers, resigned. He wants to go. He wants to be the one to talk to you. But he can't be. You don't want him to be. "Okay."

The two walk out of the bathroom, Jack turning to go to the elevators and Robby walking back towards the hub.

Robby's attention is quickly drawn to the ambulance bay doors, the paramedics, Mateo, Mel and Trinity all attempting to get the extremely combative man on the gurney under control as they wheel him towards trauma 2, the guys' head wound sending blood everywhere. Robby immediately grabs gloves from his pocket and puts them on as he takes off after them. "Where are we on sedation?" he poses to the group as he steps in the room. "This guy is going to hurt someone if we don't get him under control."

"We could also just build onto this place?"

"No," Robby shakes his head, voice low in that way that makes you shiver, "before that. Before your question."

You look away from him as you replay the conversation in your head. You said you guys would need a bigger place, that you had to have a room for Jack, right? If we have kids. If we have kids.

It clicks immediately, your mind going back to that day after work where you'd asked if he was keeping a breeding kink from you and he'd showed you all about said breeding kink. You hadn't said it deliberately right now, weren't trying to rile him up or instigate anything. It was just a natural thought you had looking around the place and thinking about times you might come here in the future.

You look back at Robby and let a slow smirk pull onto your face. This time you play it up, drop your voice and make it a little breathy. "If we have kids."

Robby's jaw clenches hard as he hears you say it again, eyes now more black than brown as they pierce into yours. His breathing becomes a bit harder, enough so that you can really see his chest moving with every breath even with your eyes locked with his. His hands squeeze your hips and then drop from them. "Go get on the bed."

It's an instruction, an order, low and husky and with a thin edge of something almost dangerous in the most delicious way.

You don't drop your smirk, nor do you make any movement to follow Robby's instruction. "Or?"

Robby doesn't move. "Go. Get. On. The. Bed." You know that tone and this seriousness, the emphasis on every word and what it all means. It's not the time to be bratty. He is not fucking around. You give him a single nod and move to do as instructed.

A few hours later once you've regained the ability to walk normally and have woken up from being damn near literally burrowed into Robby and held so tightly during the most intense and perfect post-sex nap of your life, he takes you on a drive to show you the area and the two of you stop at the grocery to pick up whatever you didn't bring from home.

By the time you get home you're both hungry enough for dinner and spend the evening cooking and eating and drinking together, and now you find yourself with your back pressed against Robby's chest in the clawfoot tub with only candles lighting the room. He put a bath melt in while running it so the just below scalding water smells incredible and is satin soft and lets skin run along skin even easier. Romance you never thought you'd have.

The two of you have already been soaking for a bit, chatting and just enjoying each other. Robby's hands roam your body as he holds you close against him, a firm enough touch not to be too teasing, but his hands on your naked body are always somewhat teasing just the same. Both of you would be happy to stay here forever, think about how you can't lose this, can't lose each other.

"So what's the story with the tub?" you finally ask.

You feel the vibration of his chest when Robby chuckles lowly. "I appreciate you giving us some time in here together and not asking the second we were in."

"I can control myself on occasion," you giggle as Robby holds you tighter to him.

"It's kind of embarrassing," he groans. "Or maybe it's just creepy and so that's why it feels embarrassing."

You click your tongue at him. "Well now you have to tell me."

"We both know I was always going to tell you," Robby murmurs as he presses a kiss to the side of your hair.

"True," you hum.

He lets his lips linger and then pulls away. "I bought this place four years ago, just a bit before you started at the Pitt and changed my entire world. I've spent the last four years remodeling and updating parts-"

"Like with your own two hands, or?" you interrupt him.

"Some of it, yeah. Jack helped with some of it. I had to hire a contractor for some stuff simply because I just didn't have the time, I couldn't be up here enough to get everything I wanted done in a timely fashion and without leaving parts half-done for months until I could get back up here." He makes a little noise of consideration. "Some of the bigger electrical and plumbing work I still would have contracted out even if I had time. But I probably could have done 90% of it myself."

"That's so fucking hot," you sigh happily. "I always knew you were good with your hands obviously, but being able to do home improvement stuff. It's really doing a lot for the primal part of my brain looking for a mate that can provide. But continue."

Robby laughs because that entire thing was so you, especially the 'but continue' at the end. He can't imagine his life without you, how boring it would seem, how much less laughter there would be.

"Continuing on," he teases you with a gentle pinch to your side, "there was a night when you were an r3 where after a shift everyone went to the park and you, you'd had a bad day, like a really fucking bad day, but you went. You didn't say a word the entire time, we didn't drink and eventually we left when some others did and I started walking you home and it was silent between us because you were so out of it. As we were walking you very abruptly you grabbed my sleeve as we walked by-"

"That fucking diner," you laugh, the memory coming back to you. "Damn, I would so go back there, it was fucking good."

"It was very good, yeah," he agrees. "So you remember that night then."

You nod against him, smiling to yourself. "You asked what was up and I said that if it was okay with you I'd like to go inside this diner, have whatever pie or milkshake or dessert they recommended and then maybe cry in front of you because I really didn't want to do it at home alone tonight." A soft laugh falls off your lips as it replays in your head and you see Robby's reaction. "You were so deer in the headlights because I'd gone from not talking at all to being that honest. But you said okay and we got whatever and when I started crying you slid into my side of the booth and held me. And then somehow I stopped crying and we ended up ordering like an entire fucking breakfast spread. Yeah," your voice turns fond, "I remember."

"Well at that time I was redoing the master bath and once I was home that night I was looking at fixtures for it and you were still on my mind, of course." You hum happily at that, you always like hearing you stayed on his mind outside of work before you were together. "When I got to bathtubs I remembered this one time I overheard you talking to whoever at work and you said you love a good bath especially when you're sad but you don't have a tub at your place."

You stiffen in Robby's arms as it dawns on you. "Oh my god, Michael," you murmur before he can continue with his story. You sit up off his chest and turn in the water so that you're looking at him, face etched with soft disbelief. "You picked this tub for me."

Robby grimaces and nods slowly. "You got me," he sighs. "Creepy, I know."

"No," you shake your head at him, smiling at him lovingly."It's not creepy, I promise."

He laughs and gives you a really? look. "Your older attending thinking about you, his resident at the time, in his bathtub with him in his secluded lakeside cabin and choosing the tub he thought you'd like best, when you weren't together, isn't kind of creepy?"

You cock your head at him and give him a look back. "I mean Michael, by that point we both knew." You slide a hand up his chest and cup the side of his neck. "We'd almost kissed how many times by that point? You'd been to my place and I'd been to yours, just to hang out outside of work. We both knew what this was between us, that we were always going to end up here." You lean in and kiss him a few times and then pull back to look at him.

"So no, it's not creepy. It's not like it was some hidden thing where I didn't know you were interested in me and you didn't know I was interested in you and you were just having these thoughts about me without me knowing." You bite your lip and turn a bit sheepish yourself now, resettling yourself with your back against his chest. "If this makes you creepy then I was too, and worse, because it was around literally the same exact time that I first… touched myself while explicitly thinking about you."

Robby gasps in mock scandal. "That early on?"

He already knew you'd done it, the fact had come out at some point when you were having sex and dirty talk was being exchanged. You'd just never specified when you started doing it.

"That early on?" You huff at him. "It had been over two years already by that point! I was dying, Michael!"

He tuts teasingly but brings his lips to your ears, runs his hands down your body and over your thighs. "Was it good?" he murmurs, starting to press light kisses to your jaw and the side of your neck.

"Oh," you breathe out, turning your neck to give him more access. "It was so fucking good."

Robby hums against your skin, hands moving more and more inward on your thighs. "Wanna tell me what you imagined?"

"I'll consider telling you when we're in bed together." He can hear the smirk in your voice.

"You better." He nips at your neck and then soothes the spot with a kiss.

"This is so sweet, Michael. It's touching and romantic and I love it. It's perfect. You're perfect." You can feel him make a face. "Don't argue." Robby pulls his face from your neck when you turn your head to give him a fake stern look.

He smiles, trying to hold back his laugh at how cute you are. "Come here," he tells you. Your lips meet as both of you lean into each other, one kiss turning into the two of you making out in the tub Robby picked out for you, his tongue still a little fiery on yours from the whiskey he's been sipping.

When you're both breathless you settle back against Robby, sighing happily. You're already so used to this. Life with him as your love.

"I've wanted to bring you here for so long," Robby admits softly after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence. "Since before the tub was installed, but especially since then. There were times I thought about inviting you but I knew we'd break. I knew we'd end up in that bed together and then I knew we'd end up in this bath together."

"Would that have been so horrible?" you murmur.

"No," he says quickly, emphatically. "Not at all. But you are so incredibly smart and good at your job and I know everyone knows that and wouldn't have really thought you got an attending spot just because of me, but I didn't want to even chance your reputation. I didn't want to chance people thinking I played any role in that decision." His hands find and cover yours under the water, lacing your fingers together from the top and squeezing. "Trust me though, Kid, now that I have you I'm never letting you go."

"Good," you squeeze his hands back as much as you can, "because I'm not letting you go either." You're not certain of it, but with the time you got in the tub and how long it feels like you've been in here, you're pretty sure it must be past midnight. But even if it isn't, who cares if you're a little early. "Hey." You shift so that you're more on one side of Robby and can look up at him. "Happy four month anniversary, Baby."

A wide smile breaks over Robby's face as he looks down at you. He lets out a soft laugh almost of wonder. Like he can't believe he has you, let alone has had you for four months already. "Happy four month anniversary, Sweetheart."

The two of you share a few kisses, both of you unable to stop smiling long enough for any of them to turn into something sultrier. You look at each other as you pull away. Both of you feel it. Both of you want to say it. I love you. It's though you're each waiting for the other to say it, too scared to be the one to say it first and have it somehow ruin things. Like anything ever could.

Robby finally breaks the silence. "I want you to know that if you ever have a bad day or are sad or are feeling however, or if you just want a nice bath, I'll bring you up here. Whenever you want or need, it's only an hour away. So, eight a.m., noon, midnight, three in the morning," Robby smiles at you and nods once. "Whenever you need."

You didn't mean for this much time to pass.

You never wanted an entire week to go by. You definitely didn't need a week's worth of space. But the problem is that the more time that goes by the harder it is for you to figure out how to ask Robby to come back.

So you sleep. A lot. Probably too much. None of it's particularly restful though. It doesn't leave you feeling refreshed and energized. It just leaves you sadder. But it's better than sitting in near silence and wondering how Robby is and thinking about how much you miss and love him and if he'll come back and how much you fucking hate yourself for what you said.

The loneliness got to you by noon the day after you told Robby to leave. Too much and all consuming and scary and agonizingly foreign. Before you kicked Robby out the last time you were alone, truly alone, was the morning of PittFest in the shower. You don't know how to be alone. You struggled with it when you did know how before all this. So the loneliness now leaves you circling the drain.

You start doing all your therapies again just so that there are people in the room with you for a while. The day after it happened Jack stopped by again and suggested you add a psychologist into the mix and maybe a psychiatrist. You didn't want to but when he offered to get it set up so that you didn't have to talk to anyone or do the work of getting it set up yourself you said okay.

It's helping, you think. You've met with your therapist twice and have at least been able to verbally process most of what's happened by saying it out loud to someone.

Your own complicated grief and sadness and hurt and feelings in general make you feel like you're drowning sometimes. You miss Robby and you wish he was here and that you guys could talk and work through things, but he still said what he did in the supply closet. He broke up with you. He completely doubted you. He didn't listen to you, barely let you talk. It's difficult to reconcile your hurt from his words and actions with how disappointed in yourself you are and how much you hate yourself for what you said to him. You're not sure how to work through any of it, but you suppose that's what your new therapist is for.

Jack has come and checked in on you all seven days. Sometimes more than once to bring you non-hospital food. Check in on you is selling it and him short. He's visiting you. It's not as clinical or as short as checking in.

Nobody else has come. You're not surprised. And you tell yourself that you're not super hurt by it. You hadn't wanted visitors before this so you know they think they're respecting your wishes. Hurts a little that nobody bothered to ask, though.

Jack knocks on your door, walking in without waiting for a response like he always does. You don't mind, you know if you told him to stop he would, and you find it to be a very Jack thing.

You and Jack have always been close. Not in the same way you and Robby were close before you got together. You and Jack are close in a sibling kind of way. He feels like an older brother. It's because the two of you are so similar in personality and wit and dry and dark humor.

"What's up?" Jack asks as he walks in.

You wake your phone and glance at it. "You're here awfully early."

He smirks at you and shakes his head as he pulls the chair moved against the wall closer to your bedside. "Don't work today. Came to see you."

You frown at him a little. "You should be asleep right now if you're not working tonight, Jack."

"I'm good, I promise." You know the smile he's giving you is meant to be reassuring and in a sense it is but you also just feel bad about him having to come to the hospital on his day off. "Swung by and checked on Robby quickly before I came up," he says casually, chin tilting up just slightly.

This is what you guys do. This is what Jack does for you. He lets you know he saw Robby so you can ask a vague and casual 'oh, yeah?' back if you want to know how Robby is but don't want to have to ask directly. You've never not floated that question back to him. You're sure he's probably doing something similar with Robby about you and you're okay with that.

The last couple of days though you've been thinking about how it's incredibly nice and kind of Jack, but that it's more fucked up that you're putting him in this position.

"I'm sorry Jack," you say quietly before looking away from him. "I'm sorry that you had to talk both Michael and I down and play therapist, and I'm sorry we're using you as this go between and putting you in the middle. It's not fair of us."

Jack gives you a soft smile as you force yourself to look back at him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I've never felt like I've had to play therapist in any way other than as friends sometimes do, and I've never felt like I'm being used or that I'm in the middle of something between the two of you. Not in the way you mean. You guys aren't asking me to get info on the other, I'm not passing messages between you, I'm not being asked to pick a side and struggling to stay neutral. I'm just keeping you guys updated on each other. That's what you guys need right now and I'm happy to help."

"Still," you shrug gently, "it's unfair."

"I know when I'm being treated unfairly, and I know you know that I don't put up with it. Even with the two of you if I thought I was being treated unfairly I'd tell you so we could figure it out." Your expression doesn't change much, the sadness in your eyes and the set of your face overwhelmingly forlorn. "You know, after my wife died, Robby had to talk me down from the roof. And then he had to talk me down constantly for a while there. You wanna talk about playing therapist." Jack raises his eyebrows and clicks his tongue.

"He used a bunch of his vacation time after she died to make sure I wasn't alone while on bereavement leave. He let me, or maybe made me at the beginning is more accurate," Jack laughs to himself, "he let me stay with him for a few months after because I couldn't stand the silence at home. He dealt with shit I didn't want to deal with for me. Life insurance, social security, shit like that."

"And you know everything you've done for me." You give Jack a look and shrug at him, trying to play off the few things you've done for him. "Don't shrug at me. You've talked me off the roof more than once. And remember that string we did together when you were an r3? Night six we get a female shooting victim on the anniversary of her death. You probably don't even know it but you were the only thing holding me together through that trauma and after it when you hauled me to the roof even though it was that sudden cold snap and you stood out there, jacket-less, with me for a couple of minutes because you somehow knew I just needed to feel something that wasn't an emotion and was external and that the freezing wind chill would do it."

Jack's face pulls up into a smirk. "Then when Robby showed up that morning, not for work but just to take you to your guys' totally platonic, not at all a date in everything but name, 'mentor-mentee-breakfast-meeting' as you guys called it, you just told him I was joining. It wasn't a question." You roll your eyes at his ridiculous description of the event but smile because it is apt. "You and Robby had well past mastered silent communication by that point and so he knew just by the way you said I was joining and how you looked at him that it wasn't just that it was the anniversary of her death, that there was more. You guys took care of me then. You have together and separately a bunch of times since and before too."

"And look," Jack tilts his head, shaking it a little. "I don't want it to seem like I'm reminding you and telling you this stuff because I view what I'm doing now for you guys as a 'I'm just making it even with Robby and you' thing. Because it's not that, at all, that's not how being as close of friends as we all are works. I'm just trying to remind you that this is what we do for each other. This is the kind of friends we are. I don't feel used or like I'm being treated unfairly or am in the middle. All I feel like I'm doing is being there for two of the most important people in my life who I love very much and care very deeply for, okay?"

"Okay," you nod slowly, hold Jack's gaze and try to believe him. That last story has you missing Robby so much harder somehow. You're glad Jack said it and reminded you of the memory because it's one you hadn't thought about in a while, but damn you fucking miss him. Miss him so much it makes it hard to breathe. "So?"

"He still won't take a day off. But at this point I think the distraction is good for him if he's not going to confront it properly right now," Jack sighs. "He's visibly lost more weight. Honestly, he's having as bad of a time as you are, which isn't your fault." He gives you a pointed look. "He was very upset to learn I'm the only one who has been to see you and was more or less devastated when I mentioned a safety plan and he realized you've been thinking how he was."

You turn away from Jack and stare out of the window as you try to process everything he just said, how poorly Robby is doing. And you're so all-consumingly sad and fucking sorrowful that you're hollow. So you can't bring yourself to really even react, which you hate because you're sure it makes it look like you don't care and it doesn't bother you or matter to you. It's easy to start spiraling.

"Can I be a doctor for a minute?" Jack's question interrupts your thoughts. He always seems to know when it's time to change the topic of conversation. You nod. You're not sure you really want him too but you're so apathetic at the moment you don't even care. You can't get yourself to. "How have things been going physically? With your recovery and therapies?"

You shrug. "I don't know. Better, I guess." There's a pause, probably to see if you'll say more but you don't really know what to say. Well, you do. You know exactly what to say. But thinking about it makes you sad and ache for Robby because he hasn't been here for it. "Just read my chart, it's easier. And has better info and descriptions."

He raises his brows at you and nods. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod, "it's not like there's anything to hide in there."

Jack watches you for a couple of seconds before getting up and standing at the computer in your room and logging on. You know what he's reading.

Speech therapy wise you're pretty much back to normal. You rarely stumble on words, and when you do it's at the frequency of the general population. They're close to discharging you from therapy.

Occupational and physical therapy wise your strides have been dramatic. Your fine motor skills and movements are nearly completely normal. The biggest improvement is that you can walk unassisted now. Not for too long and it's safer for you to walk holding onto someone or with a walker but still, you're doing it on your own without stumbling too much until you get tired. Strength and endurance are still your biggest challenges right now but they're just going to take time to build back up. They're the hardest to build up because you don't have someone with you much right now and your therapists can only stay with you for so long, so it's not like you can do laps.

Jack huffs a laugh a little incredulously as he scrolls. "Okay, better is an understatement. The amount of improvement and the gains you've made this week are insane, especially considering the break you took."

"I went back to therapy to not be alone." Jack looks over at you with a sad, sympathetic smile. "I let them come multiple times a day if they want. And when I'm not sleeping I just do exercises because I have nothing else to do really. Plus if you scroll up," you flick your chin at the computer, "you'll see the MRI results. I had it the day this all happened. The residual swelling I had is pretty much gone. Not really clear why and it seems bizarre that it didn't just increase again with my increased stress, but I'm not really questioning it at this point."

You watch Jack's eyes move back and forth across the screen as he reads everything, a true smile growing on his face. "This is great. It's incredible." He logs off and starts walking back to the chair. "Is there a reason why you're not more enthusiastic and excited about it?"

Your eyes find your lap again and you pick at a non-existent piece of fuzz on your blanket. It's quiet for a moment as you try to gather your thoughts and repress the emotions they stir up. "I don't know," you finally say quietly. "I wish Michael was here to see it and experience it with me." You look up at Jack again. "I miss him, Jack. A lot. All the fucking time. I want him here. I need him here. Something goes well at some therapy and I look around the room for him. To share it with him. Something goes wrong or I can't do something, and I’m still looking around the room for him for support and reassurance. But he's not here because of me."

"How come you haven't asked him to come back?" Jack asks quietly.

You shrug, holding your shoulders by your ears for a couple of seconds. The answer is simple but it's hard to admit for some reason. It feels like speaking your worries will make them come true. Internally you debate with yourself about how honest to be with Jack. You already know this is going to end up with you in tears.

"I'm scared," you admit in a whisper.

Jack's eyebrows raise slightly like it's not the answer he was expecting. "That he'll hurt you again?"

"No," you shake your head, "god, no. I don't even care if he does." You clench your jaw, trying and failing to stop a couple of tears from sliding down your cheeks. "I feel like I don't know how to apologize to him and I'm scared he won't come back and that fear just builds every day and becomes more and more paralyzing and makes it harder to reach out and ask him to come back."

Your tears are falling harder now, your voice getting thicker with them. "What if he won't come back?" The what if questions start to flow easily now that you've started. "What if he shouldn't come back? After what I said to him. What if it's selfish of me to ask him to come back? And what if he comes back and then leaves? Because I've hurt him too deeply? What if I've really lost him, Jack?"

He moves his chair a little closer and hands you a few tissues. "I don't have answers for all of those what ifs, I wish I did for you, I just don't. But I do know that he will come back. I promise you that if you ask him he will come back here and he'll be on his way before you even finish asking him."

You dab at your eyes with one of the tissues, sniffle repeatedly as you try to control yourself. But it's pointless. "I want him here. I need him here." You finally break open completely, sobbing in front of Jack again as your head spins with what ifs and how much you need Robby, need to see him and smell him and feel him and be in his arms. "I need him. I need him to forgive me and still want me Jack. And I need this all to be over and me to be better and us to be better because I don’t want to lose him. I can't lose him. I need him, Jack. I need him."

"I know," Jack whispers just loud enough for you to hear over your crying. "I know."

"No," you shake your head at him, "I need him Jack, now. Please," you sob, "please get him. I need him."

"Okay, I'll get him." Jack stands and presses the nurse call button, sits on the edge of your bed by you and hugs you tightly when you lean forward. He's not Michael, but he's another human who cares about you and is warm and comforting and here. "Okay, okay. Shh," he soothes, "I’m getting him, okay?"

You're still sobbing and choking on rough sucked in breaths when your nurse walks in. You feel Jack move his head to look at her. "She's having a panic attack. Listen to me. Please run down to the ED and find Dr. Robinavitch, tell him that Jack says he needs to get the fuck up to her room immediately because she's asking for him, okay?"

There's a beat of silence and then an "okay," followed by your door opening and closing.

You can't stop panicking, it's too consuming, the fear, the way it feels like you'll never come out of this place, of these feelings. You're pretty sure you'll die like this, stuck in panic until it's too much to bear and you end it for yourself.

"What if she goes down there and tells him and he doesn't care and doesn't come?" you cry, Jack's embrace the only thing keeping you from scratching your arms until they bleed in an attempt to self-soothe.

"He's going to come, I promise. I promise you." Jack squeezes you a little tighter at that. "He's not even going to listen to her explanation, he's just going to hear you're asking for him and start running, okay?"

"I need, I need him." Time ticks by. Too much of it. Every second that passes is torture, is more confirmation Robby's not coming back. He should be here by now and he isn't. He isn't here. Your panic intensifies and you get lightheaded as you start to hyperventilate between choking out questions to Jack. "What if he doesn't want me anymore, Jack? What if he can't forgive me? What if he doesn't need me? What if, what if he never wants to see me again? What if I've lost him?"

More time ticks by. The door to your room still doesn't open. You're vaguely aware of Jack trying to shift you and telling you that you have to try and follow his breathing or you're going to pass out and he's right, you can feel the dizziness, the nausea too, but you don't care. You hope you do pass out. You hope you pass out and are sick and aspirate. You hope you don't wake up. Not unless it's to Robby's face and his love. But, you ask yourself, what if? What if, what if, what if?

You pose one last question to Jack. "What if he doesn't love me anymore?"

One day these two will get a resolution, I promise. Thank you so much for reading! I hope it was worth the wait and okay and enjoyable! I really enjoy hearing your thoughts and comments, they give me so much motivation and inspiration!! My inbox and DMs are always open for thoughts, comments, and general screaming! ♥️

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