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It worked for a bit, but eventually he managed to calm the mother and he was making his way towards her. “What do we got?” 

“Car crash. Drunk driver hit her while she was stopped at a red light. Head trauma and a few broken bones. She wasn’t breathing when they brought her in. Collins is running point.” Dana’s voice was softer than it should be. 

Robby felt his heart pick up speed. When she blocked him from pushing open the door, things got much worse. His vision tunneled, and the low grade ringing in his ears got much louder. “She’s got it, Robby.” 

“Dana, who’s in there?” 

“You know the rule, we don’t work on family.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. Robby craned his neck and caught sight of the scene playing out behind the closed doors. Everyone was mulling around, efficient and focused on the task at hand. After a few moments, the steady beeps of the heart monitor did more to calm his racing heart than he thought possible. Something loosened in his chest, his shoulders dropped. 

“Good thing we aren’t related then.” His hand rested on the door, giving Dana a look that said don’t try and stop me. She shrugged, stepping aside. And he was technically right. On a technicality, you were no more than friends. 

Robby’s eyes picked up only singular elements at first. An IV carefully inserted into the crook of the elbow,, a cannula supplying a steady stream of oxygen, a small laceration on the forehead. And then, some inaccuracies. Your hair was parted on the wrong side, your shirt was a shade of yellow that you frequently professed your hatred for. “Oh thank god,” he whispered, gaze meeting the ceiling. The hustle and bustle in the room stilled. “It’s not her.” 

“Robby,” Dana’s voice was soft. 

“It’s not.” His voice was firm. He checked the patient’s vitals quickly, gave Collins the go ahead to wrap things up and pushed out of the room, grabbing some hand sanitizer on the way out. 

“Robby, we have to talk about this.” 

“Dana, it’s not her.” Robby laughed in disbelief, no real humor present. 

Dana had never heard a scarier sound. “You can’t crack on me now, Cap.” 

“I’m telling you, I know it’s not her.”

You were the favorite among the ED of the pediatric surgeons on staff. The pockets of your scrubs were loaded down with stickers and fidget toys, and a seemingly endless supply of patience. Hence the extra medical personnel flitting around the room, double checking their work with care they reserved for one of their own and shooting Robby concerned glasses. His voice was beginning to carry. 

“Dr Robby?” Dr. King called, sticking her head out of the curtain currently pulled on Central 8. “I called for a Peds consult, but no one’s come down. Should I try again?.” 

“No need!” you called, pushing through the doors to the ED. Silence was rare in the Emergency Department, but in that moment, you could have heard a pin drop. Everyone froze, and even the monitors seemed to have quieted. Everyone froze, that is, except for Robby. He was in front of you in seconds, eyes rushing over you and his hands smoothing up and down your arms, checking for injury. “What’s going on?” your voice was barely a whisper. You weren’t used to this level of attention from him. 

“We thought-” he started to explain, and then the words caught in his throat. If you were here, that meant-

“Hi, how are you? Oh! I’m doing okay, Robs, how are you?” You joked, but the pit in your stomach grew when you caught the look in his eyes.  “What’s wrong?” 

“Siblings?” he asked. You’d worked together long enough to understand his shorthand with fluency. ‘Do you have any siblings?’ He was using the voice you’d heard countless times, the one that delivers bad news to families. It was not as comforting from this side of things. 

“Where is she?” you asked, shrugging off his hands, your feet already carrying you towards the trauma bay, unable to wait for an answer. 

Your brain worked faster than your words, eyes dancing over the vitals on the monitor, checking over Dr. Collins’ work. Not out of mistrust of her, but out of love for your sister. You felt Robby behind you, not hovering, but close enough for you to feel him there.

When you were satisfied, you grasped her hand for a brief moment, took a breath and turned on your heel and marched out of the room. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Robby was close enough behind you that you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“I thought you were calling for a consult?” Your voice was even, 

His hand on your arm was gentle, but firm. “Is now the time?” 

“Is there still a terrified six year old whose arm is incredibly broken, and probably needs surgery?” Your steps didn’t falter as you grabbed a tablet from the charging station and kept walking. 

“There is.” His voice was clipped. “And there are other surgeons upstairs who can take care of it.” 

You spun on your heel, causing Robby to stop short. He’d been so close that he nearly walked straight into you. “I thought you’d have more faith in Collins than that.”  His eyes widened. You could tell that he is struggling for words, but you hold up a hand, effectively silencing him. “You have to let me do my job, Michael.” 

“I’m not trying to-” 

“I know. I really do know. But she’s in good hands. I trust Collins, and I trust you.” You take a breath, resting a hand on his arm. “I know that she is in the best hands. And we both know that little girl needs to be in mine.” 

Robby took a breath, steadying himself. He nods once, pausing and looking you up and down for a moment. “I thought-” he shook his head, hand resting on the back of his neck. He puffed out another breath, checking you over again. “I don’t know what I, what we would’ve-” 

Your heart fluttered traitorously in your chest. “We don’t have to find out today, yeah?” He nodded. “I’m going to do this consult, she’ll get a warm hand off to someone who has the mental capacity for surgery and then I am going to post up in Trauma One until she wakes up. Deal?” 

“I’m off in twenty. Coffee?” 

Your forehead met his chest, briefly. He was strong and sure in front of you, and his presence was immensely grounding. Your small “please” is muffled against his hoodie. His hand meets the crown of your head, holding you gently before tilting your face up. 

“We’ve got her.” 

You nod, taking a deep breath and shaking the nerves off. You trust them immensely. Robby most of all. “Dr. King?” you call, her head snapping up immediately from where she had posted up by the nurse’s station, doing her best to pretend to be interested in a patient’s file. “Lead the way.” you gestured for her to take the lead. She glanced between you and Robby once, before nodding to herself and showing you into the room.