Robby is three weeks into his sabbatical when he receives the weirdest call from Jack.
"If that's a trick to get me come back, it's a jerk move."
"You really think so low of me?"
"I think you'd bullshit your way to get what you want, yes, even if it would mean hurting me."
Jack falls silent. And Robby thinks maybe this time he went too far. After all, he's just trying to not lose him too. The one making a jerk move is Robby.
But then his phone buzzes with the notification of a message. It's a photo from Jack.
Still on call with him, Robby opens it. And he's hit by the most horrific uncanney valley feeling.
That's him.
Same eyes, same nose, same shape of the lips half hidden under a thick beard. He has more hair, though, and none grey. Little to none wrinkles.
Probably 15 or 20 years his junior.
"Do you believe me now?" Jack says.
"What did you say his name was?" Robby asks, not being able to stop scanning that face.
"John Carter. From Chicago."
"And he just showed up at PTMC asking about me."
"Pretty much."
From Jack's voice Robby can say he already did his researches and verifyied that this man is saying the truth.
"Where he's staying?"
"Well..."
"I don't like that 'well'."
"I'd have offered to stay at mine, but Andrew came to town."
"Andrew is there?"
Robby can't hide his surprise about the news. Jack's cousin is a recurring issue that the man won't give up. He guesses it's part of his peculiar brand of self sacrifice, this stubborness towards lost causes.
"I'm taking he's not leaving soon."
"That's what I hope."
"So, where is this..."
"John Carter. From Chicago."
"...John Carter form Chicago staying?"
"Well-"
"Do not 'well' at me again!"
"Whitaker took him home."
"You mean my home?"
"Well-"
"I swear to God-"
"He's Huckleberry, what did you expect?!"
"For you to stop him from taking home a stranger with my face?!"
"To be fair, he told Whitaker it wasn't a good idea."
"He?"
"John Carter from-"
"I get it!"
"But Whitaker insisted, so..."
"So there's a stranger with my face in my house."
"I don't think he's a stranger, brother."
"No shit..."
"You coming back?"
"What do you think?"
"Good. See you in three weeks."
"Make it two."
There's a snort from Jack.
"Afraid your younger version could replace you in the boy's heart?"
"Oh fuck you, Jack."
Another chuckle, then: "Travel safe, brother." and the call ends.
Robby packs his things, checks out at the motel he was staying, and hops on his bike.
As the road runs, the conversation replays in his mind over and over.
John Carter. From Chicago.
The name doesn't say anything to him. The city, though...
It rings not a bell, but a whole orchestra.
Because Chicago was listed among the sparse informations about his mother whereabouts.
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Pt. 2 of this kinda crack thing my brain has concoted.
~ The Pitt - E.R. - Animal Kingdom crossover
~ Rabbot - CarterBerry - PopeMira endgame
~ angst, fluff, humor, friends to lovers, family issues, mental issues, smut (in the future)
DISCALIMER: this part introduces Andrew 'Pope' Cody as Jack Abbot's little cousin. I've just started Animal Kingdom, so apologize for any inaccuracy about Andrew. I'm halfway through the first season and have every intention to watch the full series to get to know better his character, though the Andrew featured in my story has just came out of jail, so he's the one we know at the start of the season.
~ ~ ~
“Is your friend okay?”
Jack startles, phone almost slipping from his hands. Then turns to the door, an eyebrow cocked towards him. Andrew can feel his eyes scanning – judging? – his posture, how he’s standing there, on the threshold, rigid and awkward.
“What did we say about boundaries, Andrew?”
He moves on the spot, tightens his jaw. ‘Not everything is an attack’ his therapist’s voice plays in his head. ‘You are in charge of how other people can make you feel’.
“Sorry.”
“I’m not angry.” Jack sighs, “But can you repeat the rule to me?”
“Always knock first.” Andrew diligently repeats, nodding all along.
Jack nods as well, eyes fixed on him: “Good.”
His cousin has few rules but they are very strict. Some of them, Andrew doesn’t really understand their meaning. But Jack is being so generous to give him a safe place where to stay. He’s a good guy – the only one in his family that seems to have his life sorted out. Andrew won’t disappoint him.
To this day, he still feels like he’s the only person with whom he does not have a purely transactional relationship. Which – Andrew is not used to it, that’s all.
They always stayed in contact in all those years, despite Jack’s family moving from California, causing Andrew to lose his only stable figure in his fucked up life. He reached out even when he ended up in jail. Jack has been a constant in his life. And for once, a constant that has never been linked to trauma.
“Good.” Jack says again, then blinks down to his phone and stands up from the bed with a grunt, using his crutch for support, “He’ll be fine.”
He sounds relieved. And Andrew is relieved too, for him. He doesn't know his friends, nor does he care about him, but he cares about Jack.
He moves from the door to make space and let him pass, follows him to the living room.
“How was today's meeting?” Jack asks, glancing back at him from up his shoulder.
Andrew doesn’t know how to answer. He’s never been in therapy before, it's been just two weeks, how can he tell if it's going well or badly?
He looks at Jack’s back as he’s opening the fridge to pull out a juice box.
“You know you don’t have to tell me everything, right? It’s all between you and the doc.”
“I cried again.” he blurts out.
Jack turns slowly, his movement not so fluid giving his leg. He grabs two glasses and pours some juice for both, with the same attitude of someone who’s serving some hard liquor.
Andrew is not a big fan of juice, but among Jack's rules there's one about no drinking. Like, total ban of alcohol. Andrew doesn't understand, but again: Jack’s house, Jack's rules. So he gladly accepts the glass.
“Yeah, that happens.”
“Feels good sometimes.” Jack adds.
“Well, felt like shit today.” Andrew snarls back.
Jack snorts, then shakes his head: “Heh. That happens too.”
He finishes his juice and places the glass in the sink, washes it. This is a rule that Andrew understands and also likes. Jack wants his place tidy and clean. ‘Helps your brain think better.’ he explained, and it's true.
“Any programs for tonight?”
Oh, sure. Jack is going back to work. He took some time off to help him settle here in Pittsburgh, but he has to come back to his duties.
“Still can't sleep. Probably will end up watching something on tv. Do you have National Geographic?”
Andrew likes nature documentaries the most. They bring a kind of calmness to his mind.
“Sure.” Jack frowns, then leans on the kitchen counter, “Or you could come with me?”
Andrew hesitates. There are some good reasons to not accept his suggestion, and some equally good ones to accept. One in particular checks both.
“Listen, I know chaotic environments are a trigger, but you can just chill in the breaking room. Oh! How about this? Bring some of the homeworks the doctor gave you, and–”
“Will Doctor Mohan be there too?”
Jack freezes. He assesses him with a long look that Andrew struggles to stand. Jack always had this skill to read him, his intentions, almost better than himself. It's unsettling. It urges Andrew to build a defense, even if he knows there's only affection in his actions – much because of this.
“Maybe. I don't know her schedule. She's on the day shift.”
Andrew nods. Of course. He didn't forget, even if it has been four years since the first and only time he met her, during his previous visit in Pittsburgh. Anything about Doctor Mohan is not easy to forget. She's part of a world so distant from him. If he's one of the Four Horsemen, she's a Godsent Angel. Same scheme, different paths.
“Might give it a try. If she’s clocking out, you can say hi to her.”
Say hi. Like Andrew was a long lasting friend. Like she could remember him. Like everything of this doesn't sound delusional.
“Yeah. Sure.” he says anyway.
‘People have to earn your ‘yes’. And you have to learn your ‘nos’.’
Lines are blurring. Like those long days in isolation. Sometimes it brought peace to him, sometimes it only made his mental state worse. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.
Normalcy has never been at the party, so why bother himself to give it a shit?
He wished he’d give a shit, now. Two weeks into therapy seem a little weak to pretend and be normal when he feels the need to. And he does need to feel normal around Doctor Mohan.
My multishipper brain is concoting CarterBerry and PopeMira teaming up to make Rabbot realize they are in love, and now I can't stop plotting a crack fic about it...
Taking the next train to New York, from Connecticut, she stumbled on some old ladies and fell on the train isle. She felt quite dizzy from last night, with Quinn and Dean. She didn't actually like him, as she did Rachel, but still she didn't find Quinn as happy as she was with Rachel. She cleaned her legs and sat on her seat, embarrassed enough to look around again. She opened her phone and called her mum. She missed her too much, only for one day.
She then texted Rachel. She really wanted to see her again. She loved that girl. They shared that great passion of musicals and singing and she needed to talk with her. As she arrived she took a cab that took her on Starbucks. The girl had just started working there and she was happy to see her either way. As she got in, the distinctive coffee smell filled her nose. She couldn't find the brunette girl anywhere, so she sat on a table and waited for a waitress to come-that could be Rachel.
