You stared at your reflection. Beautiful. Hair done, makeup to the nines, dress hugging your figure perfectly.

“Baby, smile.” Your mom said, pinching your cheek. You forced a close mouthed smile, it wasn’t even close to reaching your eyes.

You felt nothing. Not a single ounce of joy was evident in your body. Anybody who saw you would’ve expected you to be jumping for joy.

Yayyy, you’re getting married.

To the wrong man.

You were here because of an arrangement. An arrangement for the two royal families to make their mark in the world. Build a legacy and keep the public happy.

Bullcrap you didn’t want to be involved with.

All you could think about was Michael. Your bestfriend, the one who heard you complain almost everyday about this wedding.

The one who would clear his schedule just to tend to you in a moment of weakness. “The cameras are rolling okay, I need you to suck it up.” Your mom whispered, warm breath hitting the shell of your ear.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, sharply swallowing down the venom wanting to jump out.

A few moments later, everybody was staring at you. Arm wrapped around your father’s, cheeks burning from your harsh smile. Multiple cameras set up, directed towards you.

Audience full of royalty, peers, and family you’ve never seen. There stood the man you were signing your life too. A smile on his face as if the connection you publicized was real.

The piano began to play ‘Here comes the bride’ and you took a breath before you and your father walked down the white runner.

Gasps, tears, and smiles filled the audience’s faces. Every step felt like impending doom, fear of seeing this is what your life is about to be. The camera caught every expression. Every step. Every breath.

You made it to the end and your dad gave a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Proud of you.” he muttered. He stood off to the side as you carried yourself to stand in front of the groom.

He held a smile just as fake as yours. You knew he didn’t want to be here just as much as you. You felt sorry for the both you, being in a situation neither of you asked for.

The officiant began to speak, and you began to zone out. Words of the officiant went into one ear and out the other as you stared blankly at the man across from you. The smile was burned into your face, twitching slightly from discomfort.

All you could think about is Michael. God, you wish it were him.

“Do you take Mr. Smith to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The question made you snap back, eyes looking at the officiant. You opened your mouth trying to get the words out but it felt as if your body physically rejected it.

“I—”

“WAIT!”

Multiple gasps spread through the crowd as heads whipped towards the entrance. Your heart dropped seeing Michael standing there, black wrinkled suit, curls framing his face perfectly.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Your mother grumbled, eyebrows tightly clenched. Michael wasted no time, speed walking towards you, knowing security will be at his throat any second.

Michael heaved, shaking from all of the eyes and cameras on him but he knew what he signed up for. He swallowed, even in the midst of this mess, you looked beautiful.

“Michael?” you whispered, underneath your breath. “I can’t live with myself if I let this happen, I love you.” He expressed. “GET HIM.” Your father demanded the hefty guards, pointing sharply at Michael.

The groom was stunned, not knowing what to do at the moment. His chest heaved, looking at his parents, to you, to Michael. “I can’t let you do this!” The guards took ahold of his arms, dragging him towards the entrance.

“WILL YOU TAKE ME TO BE YOUR LAWFULLY WEDDED HUSBAND?” Michael yelled, sending the venue into a heap. People were standing from their chairs, the cameras were catching every angle, and some people were even fainting.

Tears flowed down your face, and you dropped the bouquet your mother handed you. “I DO!” you ran towards Michael and wrapped your arms around him. The guards stopped in their tracks, debating on letting Michael go.

“I love you so much.” he whispered in your ear. Filled through the screaming and ruining your own family’s legacy, you’re right where you want to be.

Both families were confused, more infuriated that their downfall was being displayed on national television. A sharp tug was felt on your arm, and you turned to see your mother. “Dressing room now.” She gritted through her teeth.

You swallowed, searching her face, seeing the fury in her eyes. Any other time you would’ve listened but you were so tired. Your dream man was here for you, giving you the chance to leave the life you hated. You would be a fool not to take it. “No.”

She gasped at your public defiance, looking around the room with a stiff smile. A awkward chuckle left her lips as the room fell quiet. She wiped her palms on her skirt, and clenched her jaw. Everyone watched as she walked towards the altar.

Her hand reached out towards the officiant, signaling for the mic. The cameras whirred as they turned towards her, zooming in on her, anticipating her next words. The officiant handed her the mic with a shaky hand.

A loud clearing of her throat and she finally lifted the mic to her mouth. “Excuse me everyone. We clearly are having some difficulties so the wedding will be off until further notice.” The venue emitted into a series of shock.

Your mother thrusted the mic to the officiant’s chest, not hiding her anger. She practically stormed off to the dressing room, leaving you, Michael and everyone else in a tense atmosphere.

The officiant tapped the mic, seeing if it was still on. “So…do I marry you guys now?

The rolling waves lapped at the shore as both you and Michael sat on the sand of the beach. You didn’t even care about your wedding dress that began to gather clumps of sand.

“How are you feeling?” Michael asked you, stroking his index across your knuckles. “Relieved.” You sighed, your head found surface on his shoulder.

“I’m just glad you’re finally mine.” He laid a kiss on your forehead. After the big blowout, the cameras continued to air you and Michael’s last minute wedding. Of course, infuriating half of the families in there but they had enough respect to not leave.

Michael stroked the diamond ring on your finger with his thumb, the one that he had buried in his pocket just for this. It was a gamble to buy it, not knowing if you would say yes but you were worth every penny.

“Thank you for saving me.” You whispered.

“And thank you for saving me.”

“Yeah. M'fine.”

Langdon joined your side, eying you as you stretched your neck back to the sky. “You sure?”

“I'm peachy,” you said, in a way that could tell anyone you were not. You looked over at him. The bags under his eyes, the slight dishevelment to his hair. “Are you okay?”

His lips pursed in a grimace. “Peachy.”

“I coined it, you can't have that one.”

“It's been a rough day, I'd let it slide if I were you,” he shrugged.

You eyed him. “Rough? That's all you're calling it?”

Frank squinted at you, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “Pretty fucking horrible, shit, terrible.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, feeling the edges of insanity clouding your mind. Or exhaustion. Whichever one claimed you first. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“You should hear what my kids catch from me.”

You'd known Frank for years. Known him as the asshole Resident most of the time. You couldn't stand his cockiness when he first started the same year as you, jumping into traumas you were already on and answering every question asked of you. He'd pick and chose every case that came through from triage like it was a raffle.

He'd got better as he got older, as he became a dad. But he was always going to Collins for laughs at his jokes, or Dana to bug, or even Mohan to talk to.

You favoured Robby's side more and now you were miserable.

But still, the last few weeks had been a hard- harder than usual and since Frank came back from his rehab days he'd been better in more ways than one. At your side before you'd even asked for help. Talking instead of teasing and asking if he could refill your coffee for you before you even realised it was empty.

It was a different sort of Frank you weren't used to, but a nice one.

So when you heard about his divorce and custody battle on going after all the work he'd put in to be better, you genuinely were sorry for the guy.

“So what'd you think about the guy who thought wrenching his finger off was better than a hanging nail?” he asked, turning to you and folding his arms over his chest.

“I think you've never known the pain of a hanging nail.”

“But he didn't even get the finger off right?”

“Desperate times.”

He chuckled, clocking his head. “The worst of times.”

“Swiftie?” you asked, peering closer at him and the beaded bracelets on his wrist.

“Dickens,” he corrected.

You screwed your eyes shut. “Yeah, I-I know Dickens was the writer of the phrase, you know I knew it wasn't Taylor Swift, I was just, doesn't your daughter like her?” you rambled.

“Tanner actually. Penny's thing is Spider-man right now.”

“Respect.”

The two of you lingered in a silence of your own creation. You weren't sure you and Frank had ever had such a long conversation that didn't include something about ETA's and chest tubes.

“I've been trying to make amends,” said Frank, straightening up and focused on you. “Saying the sorry's I need to say-”

“- you don't have to say anything to me-”

“I was a dick, to you,” he said. “To a lot of people, but to you. I could stand here and say it was because I thought you were my competition which was true but it-it doesn't excuse how I treated you. I could blame it on the benzos but it still means nothing so I just want to say... sorry.”

You stared and took it in. You'd never expected Langdon to apologise. You thought Langdon was just Langdon. He couldn't apologise for himself anymore than a dog could for barking. Maybe you were wronged, twinged by the ten months of annoyance Robby had dripped into your ear.

“I'd actually kinda like us to be friends,” added Frank, glancing back to the bay doors. “I seem to be in short supply of them and you were the only one who ever reached out when I was in rehab so.”

It shocked you to hear. Had nobody thought about him, like you had? Wishing him the best, like you'd hoped? When it came out in Robby's angry rants about Frank and the pain-killers you first felt bad before you felt everything Robby did.

“Everybody was thinking about you,” you said, even if you didn't know that. When he left after the Pittfest mass casualty, nobody spoke about him, moving around the absence shaped like him.

He looked at you like he didn't believe you. He looked like he was about to say as much when a sleek black car rolled up.

Frank tensed up, rubbing at his temple. “Here we go,” he mumbled, the pale line over his ring finger glowing at you.

For a moment you stood confused before you spotted Abbey- his ex-wife- jumping out the drivers seat. She was well-put together, a blonde woman that you could imagine on the arm of Langdon. You think you'd seen pictures in passing, heard of her only in name.

“Frank, it's way past their bed time,” she said with an air of annoyance.

You wished it was past your bedtime.

“I know, I know,” he sighed, heading over and taking the bags she was handing him. “I couldn't help it.”

“They need to go straight to bed.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

You stood there, un-sure whether you should leave but un-able to take yourself away from doing it.

Abbey glanced over Frank's shoulder at you and you did your best to smile and wave but it probably came off half hearted from the exhaustion you moved your limbs with. Watching, you saw her make her mind up about you from the first glance.

The temptation, the other woman that Frank had fallen onto it.

Frank looked back to you before snapping his neck ahead again. There were mutters you couldn't quite catch to her, probably in your defence.

He swung the kids bags over his shoulders and shook off every bad thing the Pitt threw onto him. When he opened the car door he was all smiles and gentle voice as he helped down his son and daughter. “Hey guys! I missed you today,” he said. “What you been up to?”

Tanner had Frank's hair, Penny her mom's but they both seemed to have his smile as they greeted him, talking animatedly in spite of it being past their bed time.

You didn't even know you knew his smile until you saw it in his kids.

Frank went to collect the last bits of information from Abbey, leaving you and the kids in an awkward stand off.

As the adult it was down to you to break the ice.

Hurt kids were easier; you had a mutual interest to talk about and work toward. These kids were Langdon's, different.

“I like your shirt,” you said to Penny who stood in her spiderman top that looked like it was once her brothers, with a thick chunk of hair in her mouth.

“Spiderman,” she mumbled through the hair.

“He's very cool.”

“Do you know spiderman?” asked Tanner full of the six year old curiosity.

You nodded and crouched down, trying to act as casual about it as possible. “Don't tell anyone but I actually helped him out one time.”

You saw Penny smile.

“Do you work with my daddy?” asked Tanner.

“I do.”

“Are you a doctor? Like him?”

“Slightly better.”

“Hey,” Frank returned, gentle hands down on his kids backs as Abbey got back in the car. “Are we ready to go or what?”

“Ice cream?” asked Penny with eyes wide in hope.

You stood, watching Langdon battle with the fact he knew it was their bedtime, knew sugar wouldn't help and battled with her wide set eyes.

“We can talk about ice cream in the car, you ready?” he asked, earning a chorus of yells from them. Frank looked back at you. “Do you need some help with hand offs?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Head out, you're good.”

“I can stay,” he insisted. “Help you get caught up, chart, maybe Earl could keep the kids company.”

You chuckled. “It's fine, I'll probably make sure we're all handed over, charts are fine and head out myself.”

Maybe it was because of your infamous relationship with Robby that lasted all of five minutes that had people looking to you for help and advice more than they were going to Al-Hishimi. She was new, you weren't. You were an extension of Robby. Just another reason you can be mad at him.

“Oh, you-you want a lift back?” he asked, as if he'd smelt your lie.

You planned to stay as long as you could, before Abbot physically dragged you out. Beat going back to your apartment where you'd packed Robby's stuff up in a box and left it at the door, un-sure or not if you could trust yourself not to set it on fire.

“No, no, don't worry about it,” you said.

“You sure?”

You hummed.

Frank took his kids in each hand, slowly walking backing away. “Okay well, have a good night, I owe you!”

You waved them off, waiting till they were around the corners and gone before taking a deep breath. Slowly, you retreated back into your self-made hell.

It was thirty-three days ago, you remembered it exactly. The day Robby chose not to stay.

He'd been talking about the sabbatical for so long you and everyone else had forgotten how it first came about. You just remembered one day Robby came by your place to pick you up and instead of the alerting honk of a horn there was the dangerous rev of a motorbike.

No- he'd never come to your door and knock because that was too definite and you and him were not definite. He gave you lifts to and from work when your schedule's aligned. He took you to your favourite coffee place on the way in without you having to say and three times after work you'd invited him up for a beer and all three times he ended up waking up in your bed, bare chested and smelling faintly of the last nights activities.

It wasn't where you thought you'd be in life, but you also didn't ever think the computer systems would be shut down and an abandoned baby would be found all in the same day.

You'd been in the room with the affectionately named baby Jane Doe when Robby tip-toed in, swinging his travel coffee mug in hand.

You eyed him and the mug and the clock on the wall as you rocked Jane Doe in your arms. “Are you going?” you asked. If he walked out now, just passing you a nod it'd be like ripping off a band-aid. The pain would sting for a moment but then be gone. It would've made things easier.

Of course, Robby didn't come into your life to make things easy.

“Just heading out,” he said. “Why is she crying?”

“Isn't that the million dollar question,” you huffed, continuing to bounce.

You were already dead on your feet from the extra hours pulled, fingers cramping after trying desperately to get everything from paper back into the system and finish off the charting you'd left abandoned when hell broke loose. You didn't put up much of a fight when Robby rounded you, throwing off his stethoscope and gently setting baby Jane Done back in her hospital obliged cradle.

“Why are you crying?” he cooed, un-knowing to how you lingered behind him, stretching out your neck. “Did you need to be swaddled again? I wish someone would swaddle me.”

You tried not to let his words get to you but everything he'd been saying got to you that day. From when he picked you up with one helmet and insisted you wear it- that he could go without, every small hint he'd give to people that he wasn't coming back, every snap he made set you on edge. You'd watched everyone's attempt at talking to him, and watched them walk away defeated.

Robby cradled the baby close, resting her against his chest and rubbing her back. “You got off to a bit of a rough start, didn't you, little one?”

He'd turned away from you, rocking lightly but you could hear the choke in his words.

“Robby,” you said, slowly.

His head turned enough for you to catch sight of the redness around his cheeks and eyes, the quick flutter of his lashes that showed someone's un-wavering need to not cry.

“Don't go.”

Jack had tried. Dana had tried. You were sure even McKay had said something.

“Don't go,” you repeated. “Tonight just come back to mine, we can- we can do nothing. I can cook, you can rest.”

His head shook. “I'm going,” he said quietly.

“Why? Because you've told everyone you're going? Because you need to get out?”

“Yes.”

“Then get out,” you begged. “Take a break from this place but don't go off on a motorbike, to a place nobody's ever heard of before.”

Robby still wasn't looking at you, using the slowly falling asleep baby on his shoulder as a shield to avoid your gaze. “Did Jack put you up to this?”

“No. I'm worried about you.”

He bounced again, turning from you. You heard him sniff, saw the tilt of his head to wipe away emotions on his scrub top.

“Tonight, just don't go tonight. You've been working twelve hours, have you even packed anything?” you asked. “Just for tonight, you can come back to mine.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

“I can't-” his voice broke and he took a moment to compose himself, his hand continuing its slow circles on Jane Doe's back. It was as much a comfort to the baby as it was him. “I can't do that to you.”

There'd been no problem when you first invited him up, each of you sinking down your beers before Robby leant in and kissed you after some stupid joke you made. When it happened again, Robby following you up after an emotional exhausting day just to make sure you got up okay but ended up slowly peeling off your scrubs and kissing over every inch of skin his knuckles grazed. He'd never complained then. He'd never seen anything wrong that deemed he couldn't do it a third time with you.

“I just need to get away,” he said in the quiet.

“From what?” you asked, circling around to look at him. Still, Robby's gaze was locked to some mural painted on the wall behind you. “From the Pitt? From me? Yourself?”

“I can't be there for you,” he said.

Your lips turned down to a frown, where they'd been most of the day. “I've never asked you to be there for me?” had you? You'd asked for help on patients sure, it was your job and he'd offered the lifts when he realised he passed you at the bus stop every day. Had you ever put him in a position where he felt he had no choice with you?

“But I want to,” said Robby, louder than he wanted. He winced as the baby shuffled on his shoulder. He looked at you. “I want to be there for you, to be counted on but I can't. And I can't stand around and be around you when I can't- I can't-”

“- can't what?”

“I can't love you.”

The words paralysed in front of you, stuck in your head.

Three weeks ago you'd told him you loved him to which you guess maybe started all this. It had come out in bed, with your head on his chest and his hands slowly winding a strand of your hair.

You'd said it because you meant it. You'd told him he didn't need to say it back because you guessed he didn't love you back and meant it.

Loving Robby was like being cold, dying for the heat, craving the feel of the flickering flame upon your fingertips and knowing it would burn when you reached out to touch. You knew you were going to get hurt, but you had been so cold.

Robby moved slowly, with heavy limbs as he set baby Jane Doe back down, assuring she was swaddled tightly and sleeping.

“Robby I am not asking you to love me, I know you can't-”

“I should be able to,” he said, a tear falling as he stared down at the baby. “I feel like something's being leeched from me. Something I can't get back. I should be able to love. I'm un-able to.”

You shook your head, un-sure whether you should reach for him or not. “You're not incapable of it.”

He nodded, his shoulders shaking. “I am, I am.”

“You come in here every day. You save people, the best and worst of them. You hold their hand when they need it, you talk to their families, you sit with them, read out monologues they have prepared when they can't,” you listed.

“And it's killing me,” he said, turning to you with un-steady hands rested on his hips. His face was equal parts red in cheeks and pale behind. “This place... these people... they're taking things from me and I- I don't know if I can get it back.”

In desperate attempts you stepped closer to him, hands reaching for his arms. His head still turned down but there was a glimmer of glossy tears there.

“You can get it back, you haven't lost it, Robby, you haven't,” you said, your own heart rate picking up. You knew why Dana had almost cried when she told you it felt like she wasn't going to see Robby after that day. Why Abbot and reached and hugged Robby, muttering words to him. “Talk to someone-”

His head shook and your hands came up to his calloused beard, holding his cheeks.

“- go to Abbot, go to Caleb. Stay with someone, stay with Jack. Stay with me.”

He didn't say anything but his body softened just enough to let you know there might have been a way out.

“Robby I-I love you, don't do this.”

“And I care about you but I have to do this- I can't stay here-”

You reached up and kissed him, pressing your lips to his. You waited for the fever that usually took over with your kind of kisses but there was nothing. No rush of blood from him, no reaching hands, just a still body and incorporating lips.

You pulled away first, licking the taste of him from your lips. “Robby?”

“I've got to go,” he mumbled, picking up his mug again, leaving his stethoscope and left.

You watched him duck his head and avoid anyone's calls as he fled.

Dana found you that night as the clock struck eleven and as Robby pulled away from everything he knew.

That day was one of the worst in Pitt history, an agreement everyone came to without a discussion. So technically things could only go up from there.

“Hey,” Lupe said, heading straight to you.

You groaned, fingers pausing over the computer keys. “I dealt with the dead person in chairs last time, this one isn't mine.”

She chuckled. “Nobody's dead. Have you seen Langdon?”

“Langdon?” yeah, you'd seen him two days ago when he'd found you outside, contemplating your life and showed you his two beautiful kids. You'd seen him every day after that when he slid up next to you first thing in the morning. “He's, er, upstairs, some drug test protocol.”

“His kids are in chairs,” she said. “His daughter's took a fall from a swing, babysitters freaking out.”

“Oh, okay.”

You don't really know how it happened. How you ended up following Lupe back out to chairs where you were greeted with an angry mob demanding to know why they hadn't been seen yet. In the middle you found his kids and babysitter who truthfully didn't look much older than Tanner.

“Where's my daddy?” Penny asked.

“He's busy on something very important right now but he's on his way down. Can I see?”

It was a nasty gash on her knee which explained the tear streaks down her cheeks. You ended up carrying her back, securing a room for her and telling Dana to page Frank.

“I swear I- I looked away for a second,” the baby-sitter fretted, just as she had the whole way back to the ED. “Tanner needed help with his shoe-laces and she- she really wasn't going that high when I left and-”

“I can do my own laces!” Tanner objected, following at your side.

“Hey, Princess!” you called out.

You set the babysitter off with her, to get a coffee and to yap Princess ear off instead (she was used to it). You promised the sixteen year old the kids would be well looked after.

“Is get a coffee grown up talk for go away?” asked Tanner as you set Penny down on a bed, letting Tanner settle on the edge.

You settled on the stool and pushed yourself over to them. “You are a very smart kid, has anyone ever told you that? Okay Penny, I'm gonna check your knee now, okay? Is that alright?”

“I want my daddy,” she whined.

Kids came into the Pitt all the time needing help and you managed every time, winning them over or just trying to get through their treatment. These kids were different, they were Langdon's. VIP's.

“You daddy is heading down now, he's on his way,” you assured, cringing at the taste of daddy on your tongue. “In the meantime you think I could take a look? I promise I'm a good doctor, these are Spiderman healing hands.” You held up your hands, wiggiling them.

She let you check on her state of knee, finding the cuts and little bits of dirt in there. She was very brave and you told her so when she cried no more.

“Is that an Ipad?” Tanner asked when you pulled out the tablet to chart down her information. “Are there games on there?”

“I wish, bud.”

“Then what do you do on it?” he asked.

“We keep files on patients and doctors, so we know how to help and who's been helped. Your dad's probably on here,” you said, coming up with a wicked idea. “Do you want to see if we can draw on his picture?”

They grinned and nodded.

You settled in the middle of them, finding some drawing icon and Langdon's profile. You were half way drawing a red moustache above his lips when the door swung open and the man of the hour rushed in.

“Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?” he fretted in the only way a nervous dad knew how, rushing to Penny's side first and pecking the top of her head before getting a look at her knee. “Oh, baby, that looks painful.”

“She's very brave,” you said, shuffling up from the bed and hiding the tablet.

Langdon looked back to you, only then realising you were there. “What happened?”

You stood there silent before realising he was waiting for you to answer. “Oh-um, something about a swing? I think she fell of it.”

“Where's their babysitter?”

“With Princess.”

Once he'd checked in with his kids, assessed her injury himself and her chart (successfully you'd hid the changes of his profile from him) he let out a breath, shoulders slumping in relief.

“It should just need a clean, no stitches,” you said to her. “But I think for being so brave you should get a lolly, how about that?”

Penny smiled for the first time since you'd met her and nodded eagerly.

“Coming right up,” you said, leaning to Frank to utter to him. “Stay with your kids, I'll take your patients.”

His brows were furrowed, looking at you. It was unusual, for sure. Families weren't allowed to look after each other but for his kids you'd make an exception. While Robby wasn't around to say anything different, you insisted. “Thank you. I owe you, again.”

“Well, you can buy me a drink to say thanks.”

The words slipped out before you even realised what you were saying. Before you understood what the words meant.

Frank's brows rose. In surprise, amazement, disgust, you couldn't read it.

“I just- I meant a coffee, not- you know-”

“Coffee it is,” he said with an affirming nod.

With a distracted mind you nodded and left, carrying yourself in a daze to the nurses station and falling back to your seat for charting.

“What's the matter with you?” asked Dana, peering at you over her glasses.

What was the matter with you? “I think I just asked Langdon out on a date.”

Dana didn't scoff, she didn't frown at you or ask anything else. She smirked and set down her tablet, taking a careful step over to you. “Well, it's nice to see you getting back out there,” she said. “You know, he might not be coming back.”

The fact hit you like a bullet. You did know that maybe Robby wasn't coming back. Nobody had heard from him, not a picture or a hello, not a postcard or a letter. Still, you stared at the box of his things and imagined him coming to collect it. You went to bed imagining all the things you'd say to him when you saw him again.

At least in the dreams, he always came back.

There was a time on his sabbatical where Robby couldn't picture coming back into the Pitt. He thought about the waiting room full of people, or the sliding doors of the ambulance bay that never stayed shut for long and his chest would get tight, his palms sweaty. So he stopped thinking about it.

Instead he thought about you and it didn't stop the beating in his heart but it helped focus his mind.

By the time Robby made it back to PTMC, stepping a foot through the ambulance bay, it was like he'd never been away.

Ahmad greeted him, lingering in the way with paramedics. The walls of the place hadn't changed but they seemed maybe lighter than when he'd left. The patients from that night three months ago had all gone, replaced with new faces and names and identities.

“Robby!” as expected Dana was first to greet him, approaching slowly.

But when her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she hugged him, Robby knew he'd worried her with how hard she squeezed, as if she was trying to share some of that pain.

“Hey, you're back!” said Whitaker next, with a grin.

“I'm back,” he affirmed, saying his hello's to everyone that greeted him, trying to make his way through the crowd to get to the nurses desk. He didn't want a big send away and he didn't want a big come back either.

“Doctor Robby!” Javadi smiled. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you.”

“Yay, he's back,” said Santos, trying to sound as un-caring as she could but saying it with a tiny smirk. “Didn't throw yourself off a cliff then?”

“No I did not.” The truth was as soon as he got close enough to a cliff and looked to the bottom the idea of ever leaving home seemed stupid.

All he could think about when standing at the precipice or a cross roads was your face as he left, was your face when he told you he couldn't love you. Acceptance. Like you knew that and still wanted to love him anyway. And no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was on you to chose him, he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed that you had.

It was something lighter stirring in his heart.

“Where's our gifts then, huh?” asked Jesse from the back of the group.

“Okay, okay,” said Dana, waving her hands out at everyone. “Let's not smother him, not before he's had a chance to get us caught up with the board.”

It was as simple as that, his welcoming. Pats on the shoulders, welcome backs and so forth.

Robby peeled off his jacket, slinging it over the chair where he liked to sit. Not one thing seemed to be out of place there. Maybe they'd kept his desk just as he left it, for him.

He stretched out, turning his head around and scanning the floor.

“She's with a patient,” said Dana, watching him with a keen smile. “Room three.”

Robby didn't pretend to act ignorant. He was looking for you. He peered into room three, finding an elderly lady in the bed, blankets tucked up high as she smiled at something you said.

Just the back of your head had Robby taking a deep breath. He lived those three months with you as memory. With the faint idea of what your hair felt like twined between his fingers, going to sleep in crappy motels every night trying to think of your head rested in the crook of his neck, the rhythmic falling of your breath against his skin when he began to panic.

Everything you made him feel rushed back to him like a truck hitting him.

He was still stuck there waiting when you turned with a laugh from the patient, leaving the room with an amused shake of your head and he felt himself smiling.

Your trainers squeaked to a stop on the other side of the desk, finding him standing there, looking at him like you were seeing a ghost.

“Robby. You're back.”

He gave a nod, wincing at himself. What did he say when all he wanted to say was sorry? What did he do when he just wanted to reach for you?

He was never given the time as suddenly rushing feet sounded closer and small voices were calling out your name.

Robby watched helpless as you turned, throwing on a grin and kneeling to catch the small girl that threw herself at you. He watched as you wrapped your arms around her like it was familiar for you to do so, picking her up and setting her on your hips and affectionately messing up the boys hair.

“Robby, hey.”

He followed the voice to Langdon who approached slowly, clad in jeans and a jacket.

“Frank,” he greeted with a nod, stealing a sheepish look at the kids- his kids- greeting you.

“Yeah sorry,” said Frank, smiling back down at you. “They wanted to come by and see you, drop you off some muffins they made last night.”

Your mouth fell open in a dramatic gasp. “Muffins? What flavour?”

“Chocolate!”

“Chocolate! My favourite!”

“With pink icing!” said the girl happily.

You gasped again. “Pink! My favourite again! How's the knee?”

Robby watched, un-shamelessly so as you checked in on Langdon's daughters knee, patiently listened to her and his son as they both spoke at you at the same time. Was he intruding? Probably, but he couldn't bring himself to turn away.

“Okay, okay,” said Frank, setting a tub of muffins on the side that Donnie immediately started sniffing around. “We just came to say hello, school run, remember guys!”

The boy groaned and you laughed, whispering something to him.

Robby thought it couldn't get worse, that the scene in front of him couldn't get sweeter but next Frank brought out a coffee cup, leaving it next to the muffins. The stamping from your favourite cafe that the two of you frequented together glaring at him.

He tried to look away as you said bye to the kids, stepping closer to Frank and talking to him quietly. Langdon seemed to ask you something and you nodded, a pinch to your lips. He watched Langdon nod at you, heading out with the kids and glancing at Robby.

“Good to have you back,” he said, stiff.

“Good to be back.”

Langdon looked at you once more before stirring the kids away.

The rest of the Pitt played around you, nurses calling out for labs, patients complaining.

Robby may as well have been miles away as your gaze met his again.

“Got one coming in hot!” Dana announced. “ETA five minutes!”

Santos chucked you a gown and dragged you out to the ambulance bay in a move Robby heavily suspected was to spare you from any more awkward stares.

“They Frank's kids?” he asked, turning around to find a herd of nurses lingering.

Donnie had already peeled back a muffin from its wrapper, spreading crumbs everywhere. “Yeah. Damn good bakers, too.”

“She knows those kids,” shrugged Dana, trying to make it less of a thing for his sake. “Little girl came in with a bad knee one day, they come in every now and then with fresh bakes to say thanks. Donnie, spare some for the rest of us!”

Robby felt a pang when he saw you all those months ago walk into the Pitt with a wailing baby in arms. Abandoned, you'd said. He saw a baby in your arms and was reminded of what he didn't have. What he wanted. Startled that he only saw that baby in his future with you holding them.

Would the baby he dreamed about be like him? Troubled. Would you be left with two broken Robinavitch's to look after? How could he do that to you?

Yet, seeing you with two kids that weren't his didn't help either.

“Seems things have changed since I was last around,” he said, trying to joke and rubbing the back of his hair.

“Yeah, since when were they close?” Perlah wondered, staring off to where you and Frank had left from.

“Since Frank came back,” said Princess like she had the day memorised. The day Robby also left. “She's been helping him out since the divorce.”

He looked between the two, knowing the answers to all his questions could be answered between the looks of Princess and Perlah. He looked at their raised brows and wide eyes, smirks dancing on their lips.

“Hey, Robby,” said Dana. He hadn't realised she was close until her hand was at his back, leading him away. “Let me give you the tour, in case you forgot some things.”

Robby let her lead him away, one last warning to Donnie who was already reaching for another.

“You're all good,” she said when they were far enough. “They're plantonic, nothing going on, I'm assured.”

He stared out in front of him, humming. “What?”

Dana scoffed with a roll of her eyes, pocketing her glasses. “C'mon, don't act dumb, doesn't look good for you or me.”

“I'm just trying to get through my first day back,” he said with a un-easy chuckle, remembering the words falling from Langdon's lips when he first came back after ten months. He was left in that position, left to clean up the mess he thought he could ditch.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say, Cap,” said Dana. “Listen, her and Frank got close after you left because they both missed you. They both were lost, both felt abandoned and were both going through a divorce-”

“I was never married to her,” Robby corrected.

“You may as well have been. And she's been miserable since you left. She's been worried about you- we all have!” said Dana, lingering at the counters. “But I think she deserves an explanation before the rest of us.”

The roof was the easier escape from hell. Directly to the top where you couldn't hear the bustle, where it would take people so long to get to you they may as well not have bothered.

Night air welcomed you as you stood leaning on the railing, letting the wind caress and cool you. You'd felt hot all day with Robby's eyes lingering over you. They found you in the morning and didn't stop after that. From leaving every exam room to the storage closet to the bathroom, he was like a magnet attracted to you.

Once where you'd wanted that, now you feared what it meant.

There was a gust of wind that sent shivers down you, a welcomed cold.

“Hey.”

The wind hid Robby standing behind you.

You looked back at him, taking in every bit of him like you had every time you found him.

His skin was sun-kissed, hair a little longer than usual and his beard the same with new flecks of grey. He held himself up lighter, shoulders pushed back. There was new skin, a new glitter in his eyes but the same old Robby.

“Hi.”

To give you enough time he approached slowly, leaning next to you and waiting for you to say something.

But you wanted him to speak first, to know where to start from.

Another gust of wind pushed back your hair, had your skin pick up in trembles.

“Are you cold?”

You hadn't a chance to say anything. He was already pulling the zip of his hoodie down, peeling it off quickly to get it around your shoulders before the cold could leave you.

It still smelt the same. Like the box of his stuff you'd slowly dragged into your room.

“Thanks.”

Robby hunched over the rail, looking out to the skyline. “Not often I'm on this side of the rail,” he said. “Views nice from here.”

“Your trip teach you that, or have you just come up with it?”

“Just trying to find something to say,” he admitted.

You shook your head, pulling his hoodie closer around you. You could take it home, maybe, add it to the pile of him you were to weak to give up. “You don't have to say anything.”

“I do.”

“Robby-”

“I haven't got it rehearsed,” he said, holding out his hands as if to prove they're empty. They were slightly smoother, less calloused then before. “I haven't thought about what to say. I just want to talk to you.”

You turned to him, looking at him. In all of three months your heart didn't change when you found his gaze. “You've just come back, don't you want to settle in before we talk.”

He shook his head. “No. No, I don't want to waste anymore time.”

You bit down on your lip. “So, things have changed since?”

“A lots changed.”

“Do you- are you feeling better?”

His head tilted side to side. “Maybe. I don't know. There was a lot of time to think. To dream. To figure out what I want.”

You listened, watching his fist clench around the railing.

Robby sighed deeply. “I want you.”

A thousand times you must have dreamt of those words from his lips, in a hundred different scenarios in millions of different ways. It seemed just like another dream, where the city lit your backdrop, where his hoodie smothered you.

The dreams faded with work. With Frank.

The coffee you went for never turned to more. The idea of more played with, toyed with in lingering stops at each others place, when he dropped you off at yours and you didn't leave straight away.

It was all a painful reminder of Robby.

“I really want you,” he said again, eyes peering, head low. “I knew it before I left, I know it for a fact now.”

“I- I wish that was enough,” you found yourself saying. “I don't want to just be wanted anymore. It's- It's not enough.”

“Well, it's a good thing I love you too then.”

Your breath stuttered.

He stared at you, a small smile on his lips and a crinkle next to his eyes. “You couldn't count on me to love you then, you couldn't count on me to be there- you can count on me now. You can.”

You spent so long telling yourself you couldn't, that him not loving you back was okay that telling yourself to accept his words, to take them for what it was was foreign to you. “It's been three months. Things have changed.”

There was the first flicker of un-certainty in his gaze.

“Langdon?” he asked, puffing out his chest and preparing himself for pain.

“No,” you shook your head. “I mean.... maybe? Maybe there was something. But I'm so hung up on you how could I do that to a freshly-divorced man.” You leant back on the rail, counting every flicker of light.

The wail of ambulances and honking of cars punctured the silence.

Robby's knuckle turned white with his grip on the rail. “I'm glad.”

You glanced at him.

“Sorry,” he said, supporting a look that was decidedly not sorry.

You tried to hide your smile in a bite of your lip but Robby caught it and leant closer next to you, smiling too.

“I love you,” he said again, face creasing in adoration. “I love you, I don't want you to ever spend another minute thinking I don't.”

“You didn't love me before you left.”

“I did. I did I just... I didn't know how. But it was there.”

It was there? Was it in his kisses and the way he pressed you into his mattress, saying your name like a prayer into the skin of your neck. When he got you your coffee order, extra hot on the colder days, was their love in his touch when he offered it to you.

“I thought you knew, I really thought you knew,” he said.

There was still nothing you could have said.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him glance down.

“You don't- you don't love me anymore?”

“It'd make my life a lot easier not to love you,” you admitted with a sigh. “Wouldn't have spent three months worrying out of my god damn mind.”

His shoulders shuddered, his hand relaxing on the rail and heading deep into his pant pockets, trying to retreat, trying to hide himself.

You looked at him, counting the wrinkles at his eyes, matching your breath with his. “I don't know how to not love you, Robby.”

Robby looked back up at you, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “Do you want to?”

You answer was tested.

Your hands were half drowning in his hoodie as you reached up and grabbed him, bringing him into you and kissing him. Unlike the last kiss you shared, in the dim lights with the ghosts of the pedes room, he kissed you back, breathing you in. His hands were firm at your hips, holding tight.

Robby's neck tilted, muscles working to kiss you deeper, to hold you in closer. He parted your lips to take a breath and prodded in his tongue, drinking you up.

The both of you shivered into the kiss and into the cool night air around you.

“I'm not-” said Robby, voice muffled by the lips he refused to give up. “I'll never leave again.”

You kissed him again. “Don't make promises you can't-”

His nose brushed yours when he kissed you. “- I promise. You can count on me, you can love me, I'm....” he grasped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against you as he pulled you back to get a look in your eyes, brushing back your hair. “I'm begging you to love me. Be mad at me, scream at me, push me off this fucking roof. But please don't stop loving me.”

He had your hands grasped in his as he peppered a slower kiss on your lips.

“I never stopped loving you.”

When Robby kissed you again, breathing a sigh or relief against you you felt every word he'd said, every dream you'd made turned real and every hope came true. The promises he made were laced in the new softness to him and you learnt to trace those vows.

When Robby gave himself into love, it was the sort of love he'd never take back.

You finally felt at peace in a home. There was no walking on eggshells, or doors that remained permanently closed. You didn't tense at the sound of the door opening, you didn't have to prepare for a shouting match. It was just tender and warm.

Which should have put all your doubts to rest. But it didn't. It just put you more on edge.

Because you were waiting for the first crack- the first tremor in the earth. You were waiting for your chance to run.

As horrible as it was, as awful as it made you feel, you knew that this week was a fairytale. And all fairytales come to an end.

Because nothing good lasts forever, at least certainly not for you.

You knew that you couldn't hide yourself away at Steve's house forever. You would eventually have to go home, back to the cabin, back to your father, back to the mess you had left.

You knew it. Your dad knew it. Steve knew it.

Steve was a good guy, he was actually beyond just a good guy. But Steve had the tendency to play the hero, even if the other person didn't want saving. And Steve hated the downhill slope your relationship had taken with your dad, especially because now he was a part of it. He could see that behind the anger were two people who had grown tired of being hurt. And instead of leaning into each other, they pushed away.

And Steve hated it. He wanted you to have your dad. Hopper needed to be there for you, and you him. But neither of you were willing to admit it. So, Steve decided maybe he could help... unknowingly, giving you your reason to run.

You sat on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, when the door opened. Steve had left a while ago, helping out Dustin with something, and you hadn't expected him to be back so soon.

"That was quick." You called out, turning slightly to the entry hallway.

"Yeah, I just had to pick something up really quick." Steve appeared in the room, walking over and planting a heavy kiss on your head.

Something felt wrong, there was an uneasiness that coated the room. You glanced up at Steve, stomach turning, "Yeah? What did you-"

Your voice trailed off as the sound of boots against the wooden floor pulled your attention back to the entryway. Your stomach dropped at the sight of your dad, standing like a boulder in the doorway, face unreadable. "Enjoying your new home?"

Steve winced as your head whipped around to him. "You didn't-"

"I know how this looks, but you needed to talk to him and I didn't think you were going to. And I just figured maybe I could help-"

"That wasn't your decision to make!" You stood up from the couch, blankets falling onto the floor and leaving the cold to latch onto your skin.

"Get in the car." Jim spoke firmly.

Steve looked at him confused, "That wasn't- You said you were going to talk to her!"

"I will. In our home." He glared at Steve before turning to look at you. "Move it. I don't have all day."

Your fingers dug into the palms of your hand as you moved forward. Steve carefully grabbed your arm, calling your name with a gentle plea. "I'm sorry, I just thought that maybe-"

You pulled yourself from his grip, "Thought you could actually help me? You can't. I told you that. I told you not to get involved in my issues."

"But I did help- just a little. You've been so happy recently, and."

"I've been distracted. That's all this was, that's all this ever will be. I told you that from the start, and you ignored it. I told you that there was nothing between us and there could never be. We had our little week of fun, but it's done now, Steve. Do yourself a favor and just stay away from me."

You kept your eyes away from him, face as stoic as possible. You don't know why you said it. Maybe you just wanted to hurt him so he wouldn't follow after you. Maybe you wanted to save him from drowning with you. Either way, you knew your words had done what they needed. You left with your dad with no fight from Steve.

You slid into his passenger seat, eyes glassy. Hopper paused with his hand near the ignition. "Kid-"

"Just drive."

The car rumbled to life, pulling you out of the driveway and out of Steve's life. Your car still sat in its spot, your clothes still in his drawers, your smell still on his sheets. But the warmth you had brought died somewhere between your words and his silence.

The drive back home was quiet. Not the kind filled with tension, the kind filled with loss. Your dad had quickly stowed away his anger when he realized what was going on: his daughter was in love and killing herself over it.

The car stopped outside the cabin, and neither of you moved. Hopper's hands remained on the steering wheel as he stared ahead. "I can get us take out from the place you like, if you want?" He attempted a cease fire.

"Oh, you're actually going to eat here. What, did Joyce cancel family dinner?" You spit out, swinging the door open.

Hopper bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling. Now was not the time to fight with you... and the statement wasn't exactly uncalled for. He understood your frustration with him was warranted, and now more than ever he regretted simply leaving you night after night when things got hard. Because he had unintentionally shown you that running away from your problems was an acceptable option.

If he could run from you, what was to stop you from running from the people you loved in return.

Hopper watched your tense shoulders disappear into the cabin, the heavy reality of his prior actions locking into place. How were you expected to face difficult conversations when your role model had shown you time after time after time that ignoring them was the easier option.

Regret burned in his stomach, creeping up his chest like hot bile. He wished he had stuck around when things got mean, when things got vicious between the two of you. Instead he left to seek comfort in a warm home, letting himself blend into a whole new family. All the while, leaving you to sit in the ruins of a home that never truly got the chance to solidify. Sickness had taken Sarah, monsters had taken El, and his own negligence was in the midst of taking you.

You quietly moved into your room, locking the door behind you. You weren't in the mood to talk, or fight, or explain, or cry, or do anything really. The cabin was quiet, the way it always was. Quiet with loss and regret. You kicked off your shoes and carefully crawled on top of your bed, laying against the large quilt. You stared up at the ceiling, the familiar sting of unshed tears building behind your eyes.

You willed away the tears.

This is for the best. For him, for you, for your hearts. You weren't ready. There was no way you could treat him right when you treated yourself terribly. And maybe you would never be ready. And maybe that was for the best. Steve could find someone who didn't push him away, someone who didn't hate herself for simply living. You weren't good for him, so it's better to put an end to it before either of you got too attached.

But you had already become attached. The thought of sleeping by yourself again made you physically sick. Not just because you knew the night terrors would come back full force, but because you had grown accustomed to Steve's breathing, the feeling of his warm skin against yours. It was going to be a rough night.

A gentle knock on your door carefully pulled you from your sad excuses. Your dad called your name through the thick wood. "I meant it when I said we could order your favorite take out."

Tears pulled in your eyes, bitterness burning in your throat. Of course now he decided to show up for you. Why now? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he left you in the midst of your enraged grief and showed back up when it became quiet sorrow.

And Hopper seemed to realize that when you stayed silent behind the door. He nodded to himself, "Alright, just, let me know if you get hungry or something."

His boots retreated away from the door, leaving you in the middle of the storm you had created in your mind.

You didn't sleep that night, or the next, or the night after that. You could feel the red storm brewing behind your eyes each time they fluttered shut from exhaustion. The lamp beside your bed was begging for a break, burning hot to the touch under the lampshade. Your sheets longed for you to slip under them instead of definitely sitting atop them. The poor book you had chosen to keep you entertained pleaded for you to turn the page. It wasn't that the book was bad, it was just that it took you around 10 minutes to get through a single page due to the exhaustion fogging your brain.

You were miserable. You were tired, and lonely, and cold, and empty, and distraught. And you missed Steve. God, you missed Steve so much.

It had been silent from him. Which was fair, but unexpected. You had thought maybe he would try to call, try to reach out, try to at least get you to come pick up your car and your clothes. But no. No, instead he had called Hopper and had asked him to come get your things. That alone would have made you angry enough to haul your ass to his door yourself and chew him out had you not been too mentally drained. So instead of your line ringing, your phone stayed silent, taunting your tired mind.

Things with your dad had slightly improved. Slightly. You'd had a decent conversation with him about the weather earlier in the day. But that was it. He didn't seem to know how to talk to you without the fear of starting an argument, so he simply didn't. He offered meals and outings as compensation for his emotional absence. All of which you declined.

Almost a week had passed, and absolutely no progress had been made. And it was driving Hopper crazy. He could actively see you fading, and he didn't know how to stop it. He needed to know just how gone you were. But the silence gave him nothing to go off of. He needed to see you be normal, and maybe that would tell him you would be okay. And as crazy as it seemed, he had an idea. He was going to pick a fight. Because if there was one thing the two of you could do, it was fight. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest normality between daughter and father, but it was something he could count on. It was perfect, he would start a fight, you would yell at him and let out all of your emotions and things could go back to normal.

Your eyes darted over to your door handle. You watched as the screws slowly became loose, the handle shifting slightly with the squeak of a screwdriver on the other side. This was a new low, even for him.

The handle on your side fell to the floor, with a loud clang. You stared at your father as he pushed open the door with a hard expression.

"Alright, I've seen enough of this moping around. You can't stay in this room forever."

You blinked at him, watching his heavy breathing. Hopper faltered slightly as the sight of you, pale and tired, deep circles under your eyes and a lifeless stare looking right through him. But he continued.

"You need to get your ass up and go take a lap or something. This is fucking ridiculous, holding yourself up over a stupid boy."

"You think this is all about Steve?" You asked quietly.

"Who else would it be about?" He crossed his arms.

"I dunno, maybe the sister I just lost." You shrugged, picking up your book again.

Hopper felt a fire light under him, "Don't bring her into this. That's not what we're talking about."

"It's not what you're talking about. You never talk about her. Just like Sarah. You just push it away and drink it away, and it's fine because it's you and those were your kids. But I can't do the same? That doesn't seem very fair. I miss her too, y'know. And unlike you, I've actually sat here and had to deal with the aftermath. I don't run off to a new family in hopes that it will change things." You spoke softly. There was no malice behind it, no rage, just a truth you had been holding in as a way of sparing his feelings.

Hopper clenched his jaw. "You're not free from fault either. You think just because you don't talk about your nightmares that I don't know they're happening?"

"Then why haven't you said anything?" You frowned.

He swallowed, "Like you would have admitted it! You can't stand people caring for you! You push them away. You push me away, you push your friends away, you push Steve away. And you think that's going to make it better!? You think that will have everyone crawling their way to you out of worry?! Because they won't! The more you push away the less they will try coming back to check on you! Is that what you want? To be alone for the rest of your life because people can't stand being around someone who is so in their goddamn head? Because you're doing a great job at it!"

He stared at you with ragged breath, begging for some of your fight to come back. He had pushed hard, too hard, too fast. You stared at him, his words echoing in the storm. Maybe had you not been worn from fighting your own head you would have fought back. But every mean insult and redirect melted on your tongue. Instead you just nodded, turning back to your book.

Hopper blinked, dread shooting down his spine. "Kid-"

"You should have dinner over at the Byers' tonight. It's been awhile since you've been over there. I'd hate to be the one keeping you from good conversation."

"No, I'm not doing that kid. Not anymore."

You swallowed hard, staring a hole into the beige pages under your fingers. "Please. I want you to go." The words caught in your throat.

His grip on the door frame tightened for a moment as he watched you. "I don't thin-"

"Please?" You choked out the request.

He let out a long sigh. "Alright... I'll be back tonight."

He left 30 minutes later.

For a long time, you stayed stoic on your bed. After a bit, you decided now was the time to try and get some sleep. At least if you woke up screaming your dad wouldn't be around to listen. It hurt knowing that he had known all along and hadn't said anything. You didn't really blame him though, you weren't exactly the easiest person to confront.

With a small frown you hauled yourself under the covers, curling into a tight ball. Your body slowly melted into the mattress, your eyes fluttering shut despite the fear in your chest.

You were right. The nightmares came back full force, tearing you apart for trying to escape them. The red storm raged above you, sucking in El, and then Hopper, and then Steve. Vines crawled through the gate, monsters following them, tearing apart the ground beneath you. You waited for the scene to end, for your body to jolt awake. But it didn't. Instead the ground opened up, swallowing you and pulling you down and down. Waves crashed over your head, hot thick blood splashing against your face and down your throat. You clawed at the waves, your eyes squeezing shut as each red wave pulled you further under. Blood shot up your nose, stealing away your breath as you sunk lower and lower and lower.

You shot up in bed, beads of sweat dripping down your skin as you heaved. You reached for the phone without thinking, your fingers pressing the small buttons. Your hands shook as you held the phone up to your ear and waited. Ring after ring pulled hot tears from your eyes. He wasn't going to answer... and you couldn't really blame him.

Across town, Steve stared at the phone. The rattle itched at his skin, willing him to pick it up. And yet he felt frozen in his place. He had been waiting a full week for the phone to ring, to hear anything from you. And now here it was and he wasn't moving. He was angry, he was tired, he was distraught. You had made it clear that you hadn't been interested, made it clear that everything had been a distraction, he had been a distraction. And yet another part of him couldn't shake away the image of you shaking, another dream hitting you directly in the heart.

He reached out for the phone just as the last ring echoed through the air. He yanked it up to his ear, cursing as static echoed through the line. He shoved the phone back onto the receiver and threw himself onto his back. There was the call he had been waiting for all week, and he let it slip past his fingers.

The past week had been hell on earth for Steve. Your words echoed through his mind, driving him mad. As much as you had hurt him, he had known you didn't mean it, at least not in the way you thought you meant it. You had told him earlier that week you were scared, that you felt maybe you were meant to be alone. And he knew you truly believed it.

But he also knew that you had been happy the week you spent with him. He had seen your body relax under his touch, your smile broadened at his jokes, your eyes light up at the mention of cooking together.

But you had asked him to stay away, and he did. Steve didn't want to push you, he didn't want to add himself as an extra burden in your life. Especially not with everything that was going on between you and your dad.

So Steve did stay away, even if it made him miserable in the process. Robin and Dustin had done their best to cheer him up, even if they didn't know what exactly had killed his spirit. They took him on random expeditions, stayed over at his house, and tried helping him score dates. None of it seemed to work, and they were at a loss. But they did seem to figure out that it had something to do with a girl, and when movie night came around and you were MIA, they narrowed it down to you.

You had called almost each night, and each time Steve couldn't bring himself to answer the phone. Steve had thought that maybe he was helping you by giving you time to yourself. But as days turned into weeks, he wasn't so sure anymore. Especially not after he had managed to fall asleep one night and woke up to a long voice mail from you.

Your voice was rough in the receiver, throat raw from crying. He could hear the jumping in your breathing, the way exhaustion dripped from your tongue. You sounded like heartbreak and torment leaking from a shot heart.

"It's almost 2am. And I keep thinking of you. And I hate that I keep thinking of you. And I know I hurt you. And it hurts the same way it used to. It just sits there like the jacket I never gave back to you. But now it just... feels like a habit, like reaching for my phone before I remember you won't answer. And I don't wanna keep making ghosts out of old messages. And maybe I love you... or maybe I love who I am when I'm with you. Either way, I can't put it to sleep. I don't wanna miss you, Steve. I just wish that we could go back to the days where I used to lay on your chest, with your arms around my neck. But it's not there anymore. And every time I call... i just. I feel the same way. I don't know if I can move on, it's so hard to move on. So please don't call me back. Please don't say you miss me too. Because if you do... because if you do....Please don't call back."

Steve stared at the receiver long after the message ended. He was clenching his jaw so hard it hurt. He wasn't going to call back. No, he was going to see you in person.

Without a second through, Steve pushed off the counter, grabbing his keys and bolting out of his house.

“Sorry, he can’t help you.” Robin shrugged with a small smirk. “He’s busy.”

“Busy with what?” She continued to ask, crossing her arms.

“Spycraft.” Robin turned back to glance at you, where you shook your head laughing to yourself.

Meanwhile, on the lower levels of Starcourt, sat Dustin and Steve where they were not so discreetly hiding behind a bush. Steve lowered the binoculars with a frustrated sigh. “I’m not even sure what we’re supposed to be looking for.” He complained.

Beside him, Dustin didn’t even bother looking away from the crowd, trying to spot what he thought looked the most like a spy. “Evil Russian spies.” He answered.

“And exactly how am I supposed to tell who's an evil Russian spy?” Steve asked unenthusiastically.

“Tall, blond, not smiling.” Dustin listed off the top of his head. “Also, look for earpieces, cameo, duffle bags, that sort of thing.”

Steve groaned under his breath before scanning the crowd again, using the Henderson boy's little amount of information to help him out. Families wandered between stores carrying shopping bags, teenagers ran around, nothing looked suspicious, nor remotely Russian. “I think we’re wasting our time.” 

Dustin scoffed, yanking the binoculars out of his hands. “Dude, you are the worst spy in history, you know that?” He spat, rolling his eyes.

But Steve couldn’t help his thoughts drifting away for just one second. Back to yesterday, the short conversation you had over a bowl of cereal, the way you’d shyly smiled at him after he’d called you pretty. He shook his head, trying to regain focus.

“What?” Dustin asked, noticing the distraction.

“Nothing—it’s nothing, let’s just keep looking for the spy.” Steve brushed off, hoping his ridiculous costume covered up the blush creeping up his neck.

“You were smiling.” Dustin flashed him a toothy grin, having a vague idea of why that was.

“I wasn’t.” Steve objected too quickly, avoiding eye contact.

“You definitely were.” Only a pause went by before the younger boy couldn’t help but speak his thoughts aloud. “Thinking about how you called the time traveler pretty yesterday?” 

Steve’s head shot up so fast he blew their cover. “What?” He exclaimed, wondering for a split second if Dustin had some sort of mind reading powers. 

“You heard me.” Dustin replied. “I think someone might have a crush on her.”

Steve exhaled a sharp breath, wishing he was anywhere but trapped here right now. “She’s from the future.” He shook his head.

“Excatly, isn’t that so cool?” Dustin grinned. 

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Besides…” his voice grew quieter. “She probably has someone waiting for her back home.”

Dustin frowned, turning towards him. “What do you mean?” He asked in a more serious tone.

“I don’t know, a boyfriend or something.” Steve tried shrugging casually, though the words tasted strangely bitter on his tongue. His head instinctively raised upwards, squinting to look towards Scoops Ahoy, where you were inside. “She’s got an entire life forty years ahead of us.”

Dustin studied him for a long moment. “You’ve got the perfect girl standing right in front of you—”

Steve scoffed. “Dustin.”

“—And you’re talking yourself out of it, Steve!” He continued, not seeing the problem.

“Oh please, says the boy who found his girlfriend at camp Know…Nothing?” 

Dustin glared at him, shoving his shoulder forcefully. “Camp Know Where, actually.” He corrected. “And Suzie is the perfect girl, minus the part where she’s from our time.”

Back upstairs, Robin had joined you in the back, practically singing to the code to each other to find any hidden meaning. “D’ya think we’ll ever crack it?” She asked.

You sighed, not wanting to think of what would happen if you didn’t. “I don’t know—but it’s the only way.” She knew what you meant. “There hasn’t been any clue about how I got here since the day you found me. And, out of all places, I fall into the back of an ice cream parlor?” You frowned.

Robin's expression lit up, giggling to herself. “Wait, that is actually really weird, weren’t you—”

But before she could finish her sentence, a sharp knock came on the back door, making you jolt slightly. “Delivery for you.” A man called out from behind.

Robin pushed herself off of the counter, going to open up the door. “Thank you.” She took the package, but when the delivery guy nodded, turning around to leave, she lingered in the doorway.

“Robin?” You called out, watching her focused expression.

“A lynx.” She said, staring at where he had walked away, more specifically, the silver lynx patch that was stitched into his uniform. “…No way.” Her eyes suddenly widened.

“What is it?” You called more urgently, standing up to join her. 

“The silver cat…” your breath caught. She pointed wildly towards the patch. “That's it!” 

You stared at the embroidered lynx, then back at the whiteboard, then the uniform. Your heart began hammering loudly as you gave Robin the same knowing look. “Oh my god.”

She grabbed your wrist. “I cracked it!” She yelped, a urge smiling painted on her face as she guided you out of the shop. 

“You cracked it!” You screamed in response, feeling delighted.

At that exact moment, Steve and Dustin had just entered with their shoulders sagged, having no luck whatsoever. “What’d we mi—”

You and Robin bolted past them, both of you sprinting so quickly Steve had to stumble sideways to avoid being knocked over. 

“Hey!”

“What’s happening?” The boys called out in unison.

Neither of you answered, racing into the center of the food court, scrambling onto one of the benches overlooking the whole mall. 

“A trip to China sounds nice…” she stared up at the imperial panda restaurant while you faced the other direction, back pressing into hers.

“If you tread lightly.” You finished, pointing up at the Kaufman shoes store, located right above.

You both turned, gasping at the sight of the clock in front of you. “When blue meets yellow in the west!” You both completed the code, heart souring when you realized your accomplishment.

You threw your arms around Robin without thinking, maybe you weren’t so stuck after all, hope reignited in your chest. “We did it!” She hugged you back just as tightly, laughing amongst yourselves like lunatics.

“We actually did it!” She shouted, as the boys found you jumping up and down.

“What are you two doing?” Steve asked loudly.

“We cracked the code, dingus!” Robin answered him, Dustin’s brows fleeting upwards. 

Steve watched you smile brighter than he’s ever seen before, for a second, he found himself smiling too. But then he remembered why you were smiling, and somehow, the thought that this might really be the thing that sent you home didn’t make him feel relieved, it made his stomach sink. 

The excitement from cracking the code hadn’t faded, but it had changed. Now, standing around the counter as the mall slowly emptied for the evening, the air felt heavier with the weight of what would happen next.

Dustin thought to himself quietly for a moment. “If we’re right, whatever this is happens tonight.” He muttered.

Robin leaned opposite him. “What are we supposed to do?” 

“We stake out.” He answered. “The trucks start pulling in at nine, so we get there on the dot and hide somewhere with a clear view of the loading dock, and wait.” 

Steve let out a dry laugh. “Great plan, except for the small problem that if they see us, then we’re doomed.”

“Then just run, Steve. Make yourselves not get caught.” Dustin explained like it was obvious.

Steve still looked unconvinced, turning to see your eyes flickering around, deep in thought. He hadn’t exactly talked to you since your new discovery, he hated himself for it. He should’ve been happy, this was everything you ever wanted, so why did you leaving feel so soon?

That night, the four of you slipped through the service corridors, quiet footsteps muffled against the concrete floors. Dustin motioned for everyone to stay low before following him onto the roof overlooking the loading dock.

Rows of delivery boxes stretched beneath you, as heavy rain poured from above, soaking you all and obscuring your vision. “What’s down there?” Robin asked.

“It’s just more boxes.” Dustin said using the binoculars. You leaned carefully against the railway, peering into the darkness, until a rumble echoed through the warehouse entrance. 

You could hear Steve panting beside you as you all stayed silent, waiting for something. The guards moved with practiced precision, observing the area while heavy crates were unloaded one after another. 

Suddenly, they disappeared behind reinforced metal doors. “What do you think’s inside?” You spoke over the loud rattle of rain, lifting your head up to try and catch a glimpse.

“I can’t see, just boxes.” Dustin mumbled, squinting through the lenses.

“Give me those.” Steve reached over, wrestling them out of Dustin’s hands, until they slipped free, crashing against the catwalk. One of the guards froze, turning to sweep his flashlight across the loading dock.

Then, something shimmered. Just beyond the line of trucks, the air rippled unnaturally, like heat rising from asphalt. A thin, jagged fracture split through the darkness, glowing with the same electric blue light you remembered from the woods.

Your breath caught in your throat, the crack. It flickered violently, stretching for the briefest second, revealing nothing but darkness. Without thinking, you leaned farther over the ledge, unable to tear your eyes away. 

The flashlight suddenly jerked upwards, Steve followed your line of sight, but all he saw was empty air. Then he looked at you, you weren’t even watching the guard, you were staring at something that wasn’t there. 

“Down.” Before you even had time to react, his hand shot around your wrist, yanking you downwards with enough force that you nearly collided with his chest. The beam skimmed over your heads, drifting away again.

No one dared to breathe, only then did Steve finally loosen his grip, turning to look at you with an expression you couldn’t identify. “What were you doing?” He whispered sharply, fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

You blinked, still trying to catch your breath. “You didn’t see it?”

“See what?” He asked, brows furrowed together.

“The crack.” You looked back towards the loading dock. “It was right there.”

“You mean the one that got you here?” He muttered, glancing back toward the spot you’d indicated. There was nothing, only piles of boxes waiting to be carried inside.

Robin and Dustin exchanged confused looks. “There wasn’t anything there.” She whispered.

“There was.” You insisted. “I saw it—I know I did.”

Steve turned back to you. “You leaned halfway over the ledge, you know that?” He hissed.

“I was trying to see it, if only you left me for one more second—”

“That isn’t the point.” Steve’s voice stayed low, but the frustration underneath it was impossible to miss. “You almost got caught.”

“And it could’ve been my way out of here!” Your voice came out louder than you’d intended.

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Or, you could’ve risked your life for nothing.” 

You opened your mouth to retort, only for Dustin to throw a hand back without looking away from the dock. “Guys.” 

The mystery wasn’t over, not even close. Steve’s words echoed in your head long after you’d left from the loading dock. You could’ve risked your life for nothing. But if that crack really had been your only chance, how could you ignore it?

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