Fifty-something Jewish fan of "The Pitt" and writer of fanfic, all-around nerd, lost in the Rabbot hole, noshing Rabbotshimi. Avatar by @natendo-art :) http://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakedownStreet/
“Black Orchids and the Boy King” (oneshot, post-sabbatical): Jack catches a glimpse of his best friend's newest tattoo at Dana's Labor Day cookout and can't stop obsessing about it. (Written for the 2026 Pitt Summer Fic Exchange.)
"To Protect and To Serve" (AU series - first story "To Protect and To Serve" is complete, second story "All I Can Breathe Is Your Life" is in progress): Jack is a Pittsburgh Police sergeant and Robby is the owner of a deli/bakery in Squirrel Hill. The two meet when Jack walks into Robby's shop with his partner, Officer John Shen.
“Listen as the Wind Blows” (3 chapters, complete): Robby + Jack meet in New Orleans a month before 9/11 when Robby is a senior resident at Big Charity and Jack is an Army medic training to be a Green Beret.
After the Storm (series): Robby + Jack meet in New Orleans in 2005 after Hurricane Katrina, then part, only to reunite years later at PTMC. There are a total of ten stories in the now-complete series. The last one, "As You Are Now, So Once Was I," posted on 12/29.
Man of Sorrows (series): Jack hits his fave gay bar the night of PittFest and runs into Robby.
"Fifty Fest" (oneshot, set in the "After the Storm" universe): Extravert Jack asks introvert Robby to throw a big party to celebrate Jack's 50th birthday.
Hello Moto (oneshot, set in the "After the Storm" universe): "What if Robby and Dana slept together in 2006 after a terrible shift, and Jack didn't confront him about it until 2025 when they were on a 1000-mile motorcycle road trip through the Rockies?"
Beer, Brisket, and Latkes (Hanukkah themed oneshot, set in the "After the Storm" universe): Jack surprises his fiancé with homemade brisket and latkes when Robby comes home after a long shift.
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I've had this thought in the back of my head since season 1 of The Pitt and those fucking parallel rooftop scenes between Robby and Jack.
The overall parallelism between the two of them is enough to make me want to scream, and if we were talking about any sort of ancient tragedy, they would 100% be coded as character mirrors. Now, obviously The Pitt is a modern medical drama and not something written for a bunch of Greeks to perform in front of an audience. HOWEVER, Robby and Jack are 100% exactly that.
We all know that Euripides is like… the OG "but what if they were lovers" fanfic author. I mean, the man took one look at the Oresteia and said "yeah, OK, but Orestes and Pylades were definitively banging when they weren't being emotionally tortured". BUT, I'm not trying to say that Jack and Robby are Orestes and Pylades.
because they are clearly Heracles and Theseus.
Euripides re-imagined the myth of Heracles in a wild way that I'm not going to analyze too much here, but it is important to note that he switches the order of events. Rather than Heracles undertaking the 12 Labors in order to atone for the sin of having killed his wife and children, Euripides writes it so that those Labors are what keep Heracles from taking his rightful place as the ruler of Thebes, allowing Lycus to take control of the city.
The last of Heracles' 12 Labors is to descend into the Underworld and bring back Cerberus. While he's there, he encounters Theseus and Pirithous held prisoner. Heracles bargains for Theseus' freedom (but can't secure Pirithous'), and Theseus is able to return to the world of the living. This is very important to this ramble.
Now, when Heracles returns home to Thebes, he discovers that Lycus is about to kill his family, and Heracles instead comes up with a plan to kill Lycus, which he does. Unfortunately, that ultimately marks the official end of his 12 Labors, which were the only thing keeping Hera from seeking revenge for Zeus having fucked his mom (Hera is the WORST, guys. Like, take out your anger on the guy who did the fucking, not the kid!). She sends Iris and Madness down and they curse Heracles. Heracles kills his own family as a result of this.
NOW, while Heracles is a hot mess (rightfully so, having just slaughtered his wife and sons), he decides the only thing he can do from there is to kill himself, too. ENTER THESEUS.
Theseus rolls up to Thebes from Athens while Heracles is so deep in mourning that he's covering his face and refusing to let anybody look at him for fear of that action alone bringing shame and spreading the stain of having murdered his family on whoever sees him. Theseus is having none of that and orders Heracles to remove his covering. Then, when Heracles confesses his plan to kill himself, Theseus rebuts him by basically saying "nonsense and poppycock; just come live in Athens with me instead" and Heracles is all "but you'll also be stained with the sin of what I have committed here" and Theseus responds with what boils down to "who the fuck cares? I've had awful days, too, and you were there for me during them, so now I'm going to be here for you during your lowest point".
So this is why I think Robby and Jack are Heracles and Theseus coded. Now, it would be easy to think that Jack is Heracles in this scenario because he's the big strong warrior of the two of them, but we also have to acknowledge that Theseus is a warrior in his own right, AND is arguably the cockier of the two (I mean, he's fucking smart and he knows it AND he can fight). Jack is 100% Theseus and Robby is Heracles (emotionally stunted, completely tortured, completes impossible tasks on the daily for people who just want to watch him break).
Jack is up on the roof at the start of episode 1, and it's pretty neatly laid out that it isn't the first time Robby has found him up there, meaning Robby's probably talked him back off the ledge a few times. We also know that Jack is a widower, and given the closeness of their friendship (coughrelationshipcough), it's highly likely that Robby was there for him during that part of his life. It's not even out of the realm of possibility that Robby knew Jack before and after losing the leg, and helped support him through that, too. This is Jack's metaphoric moment (moments) of being a living soul trapped in the land of the dead. He's surrounded by it, can't escape it, and loses one of his closest friends (his spouse takes the place of Pirithous), but Robby gets him through it in the end.
Now Robby, having done this, returns "home" to the ED, having walked Jack back from the brink. He proceeds to have the shittiest day, which parallels the Madness/Iris curse so well because Robby is definitely not 100% present for the day. There are definitely moments where he is completely tuned out from what it is he's actually doing and just goes through the motions. And then he loses Langdon (Robby's protégé/stand-in son). He loses Jake (not literally, but emotionally), a child that Robby helped raise. He loses a third child when Collins tells him in a roundabout way that she was pregnant with his kid, but had an abortion instead. And then he loses Collins, who fills the role of Megara here, when he sends her home. Heracles had three sons and one wife and was responsible for losing all of them, just like Robby feels responsible (even though he isn't, but that's a different matter).
And so at the end of the season, Robby ends up on the roof. His stethoscope is hung over the railing, which to me is him "hanging it up", and he's clearly in emotional distress and probably suicidal when Jack finds him on the roof.
So what does Jack do when he comes upon his friend who had saved him before? He talks Robby back off the ledge, says screw everything else, you did everything you could and none of this is directly your fault. Even when Robby is adamant that he fucked up, Jack denies him. Then, he walks with Robby, literally stands/sits by his side and sends that clear message to everyone that no matter what they think they heard or saw about Robby's state, Jack is still there, and fuck everybody else if they don't like it.
and don't even get me started on the sun/moon gold/silver thing they have going on, christ.
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Jack is the bright, hot, and expansive heat of summer. Some days, the sun is welcome and warm—inviting like a barbecue with friends. A beach day with your love as you slather sunscreen on copper toned skin that has been sun-kissed and worshipped by you, on display with minimal clothing. Or lightly covered by airy linens in breathable, cotton blends. Other days, his heat is oppressive and demanding. Heavy and humid—hard to breathe in. The sun is too bright, its rays hurting your eyes and burning your skin. Still, there are nights where the rain falls softly, droplets like lullabies, wind like whispers and promises and lips brushed against shoulders and cheeks. While other storms rage against windows and bring angry lightning and falling trees and dangerous flooding that threatens to drown you, consume you, claim you. Until you wake in the morning to see the oak you thought was always the strongest is missing a limb. Even if it continues to stand strong against the sky, it will never be whole again, and you wonder, can it weather another storm?
Robby is the cool, chilly, dying days of Autumn. Fiery and brilliant like the abundance of color collected on trees and bushes even as the flowerbeds decay at your feet. The leaves fall–softly at first–and then all at once like the sobbing tears of a child clinging to the skirts of their mother as she walks out the front door for the last time. Still, the evergreens light up the world with a spattering of green even as everything else turns red and gold and orange…then brown and grey and dead. Like nights of bonfires with friends filled with laughter and joy, and then brushfires of dry leaves—wild and untamed and destructive. The first cold day where the sweaters feel warm and cozy and welcome, and then the first frost where even the sunflowers wilt and droop and die. Grey mornings of gloomy drizzle and freezing air warmed by black coffee and thick oatmeal. Family holidays with no one else seated at the table but there's a friend willing to drink hot cider that upcoming weekend. Frayed scarves and holey gloves that can no longer keep you warm but contain memories of kind hands and apple strudel and prayers in languages you barely remember.
Two dicotomies. Two men. And depending on how you view it, one is always chasing the other.
But there is no way you can have one without having the other. There is no life without death, as there is no death without life.
Summer and Autumn touch but can never coexist at once—but each is responsible for the other's indescribable beauty.
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This is the third story in my Baran-centric series, “Love is a Thousand-Stringed Instrument.”
In this installment, Baran heads to Jack’s after a long, stressful shift in the Emergency Department. When she gets there, she discovers that she’s not the only one seeking comfort and closeness in Jack’s bed that night.
Rated E for 🌶️🌶️🌶️
(PS - for those who question the use of the Rabbot tag, this story starts off in Rabbot territory but veers into Rabbotshimi. So yes, it's both.)
Jack used to sleepwalk, sleepeat, sleeptalk, and sleepwander. His mother would direct him very carefully back to his bed and tuck him in, no harm no foul. Thankfully he grew out of sleepwalking when he turned ten, though he retained the sleeptalking even through his years in the army. His wife loved it: she thought it was hilarious.
He lost leg and then his wife soon after, so he moved back into his parents' house, his tail proverbially between his legs. With his life in ruins around him, he found he hadn't quite kicked the habit.
When he dreamed, he still had two legs.
Jack's healing nub did not enjoy plummeting ten inches to the floor the first time he tried to sleepwalk. His parents, meanwhile, did not enjoy the many, many creative words he used when he woke up on the floor.
He woke up on the floor a number of times before he found a very-not-kinky handcuff solution that he attached to his infantilizing bed rails. It took a long time for Jack to claw his way back to dignity and independence, but he made it. He made it through med school, residency, and even got an attending position at the PTMC.
So what if he never slept over after a hookup and never hosted. So what if he never found anyone he trusted enough to tell about his somewhat embarrassing condition.
His life was fine. It was his own, and that's all he could ask for.
"Stay," Robby insisted. His hand gripped Jack's loosely, but the insistence in his eyes was stronger than any desperate grab. His lips were dark from kissing, and his chest was covered in a light sheen of drying sweat. Jack had sucked bruises on his belly and thighs, but there was still plenty of room for more, he noticed.
"Better not," Jack said quietly. He didn't try to free his hand though. It was their third time hooking up, and Jack was starting to feel like things were getting a bit too close, a bit too intimate. His belly was full of butterflies like he was a teenager again, and he was definitely too old for a crush.
That didn't mean he couldn't have one.
"Please?" Robby pulled back enough so that there was space for Jack in his arms. It looked inviting.
"Alright, brother. I'll stay for a bit." Jack took off his leg again and tucked himself into Robby's lanky frame.
"This OK?" Robby's breath stirred the hairs on the back of his neck. His fingers ran up and down Jack's arms before his arm wrapped around Jack's middle like a vice.
"It's good," Jack murmured, half asleep.
He had intended to stay five, maybe ten minutes. Then he'd find some excuse or other, about the bed, the pillows, something, that would allow Jack to leave without hurting Robby's feelings.
But with Robby's body trapping him into bed, he fell asleep feeling safe as houses. Robby was better than a weighted blanket, and Jack found that, even if he wanted to, he couldn't go anywhere.
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whenever someone says that the writers made robby have underlying sexist bias "by accident" and "because the writers themselves have that bias", i want to scream. none of robby's character has happened by accident. he's been deliberately given a realistic bias by the writers in the same way mckay, ogilvie, javadi, whitaker etc all have. they're writing realistic characters to show that even the best of us can have these biases and ought to confront them.
every one of these biases is directly referenced in the plot. they are NOT by accident. at all. mckay is called out for her weight bias, ogilvie for his bias against addicts, dennis for his dismissal of female pain. all deliberately written in. LIKEWISE is robby's bias. in season one, it's a main plotline that ends in him apologising to mckay and saying that he should have listened to her when she told him that these girls were in danger. he admits he was wrong. this is written in the script on purpose with the same aim as the rest of the biases- addressing them head on. main plotlines are not accidental bias in the writers room.
im not saying the writers themselves have no biases- they're human like us and we all have them- but I'm saying that every part of robby as a character (yes, even subtle parts you think you're a genius for picking up on) has been written *meticulously*. this is no accident, it is careful scriptwriting.
this form of incorrect critique (because unfortunately it is completely incorrect to claim his misogyny is accidental) also does the job of erasing the fact that, of the nine writers, five are women, and four of those are women of colour. in fact, some of the episodes people hate robby the most in for his bias are ones written by woc. I *promise* you that they know what they're writing.
overall I find statements that ignore the canonical reality in that robby's bias is directly addressed in the show, in favour of calling the writers misogynist, is very disrespectful to the time, skill and nuance that they have poured into these characters- recognise their work at creating someone realistic.
you can analyse the characters and critique the writers absolutely! but make sure you know the content of the show you're analysing, and the nature and detail in which scripts are written- especially ones that sweep awards seasons.
