Chapter Text
Dennis exited through the door towards the outside and let out a long sigh. He watched as steam left his mouth and spiraled away, carried by the frigid winter breeze. He rubbed his hands together, regretting not bringing gloves to put on when his shift ended. It was too late for that now, and all he could do was blow hot hair from his lungs against his fingers, in the hopes of getting them warm.
The bar he had left was still quite noisy but there, in the street, all he could hear was the banging of frozen light cables and the sound of his breathing. It wasn’t snowing at the moment, but there was piled up snow on the sidewalks from this morning, when he was still working his daily shift.
It was Christmas Eve, so many PTMC employees had requested a couple days off to stay at home with their families. On the other hand, others — like Dennis himself — had volunteered to stay on duty and work during the festivities. He simply couldn’t afford to go back to Nebraska and spend the eve with his family, and certainly making this extra money would come in handy.
Because of the rotation system, Dennis ended up working the night shift of the 24th and the daily shift of the 25th. He would leave the hospital at 6 p.m. and could spend the night with Trinity. That is, if she was home, which wasn’t the case. She had left Pittsburgh the morning of the 23rd, headed home to spend the holiday with her family, leaving Dennis alone in the apartment they shared. He was happy for her and hoped her time at home was pleasant, but he still couldn’t help but feel alone and sad.
For the first time in years, Dennis had hoped to not spend Christmas Eve alone, but it just seemed like it wasn't supposed to be. When his shift ended, he saw himself incapable of returning home and spending the date alone. He wandered the streets aimlessly until he entered a bar to drink cheap beer and fill his mouth with salty peanuts. That was pathetic and lonely, but it was still better than a dark apartment with not a living soul but Trinity’s plant collection.
Dennis stayed in the bar the max he could, which was saying he remained just as much his budget could afford. It wouldn’t be wise to spend his extra money from the Christmas shifts on something as superfluous as beer. He had his plans for the amount and needed to keep it stored carefully.
He looked at the time on his phone, noting it was past midnight. At the time, the trolleys had stopped working, and he had no choice but to face the cold streets piling with snow if he wanted to make it home. He felt even worse for not realizing that in time.
“Nice one, Whitaker” he mumbled to himself, full of bitterness. What could go wrong whilst he roamed the dark and deserted streets during the late hours of the night? A guy like him was an easy prey; the only thing he could scare off were rats, and nothing else. He tucked his hands in his pockets, chanting a silent prayer to protect him from anything bad that could happen on his way back to Trinity’s apartment.
Unfortunately, however, he hadn’t started walking his way home yet, so his prayer could not protect him.
Before he could take his first step towards the street, Dennis heard the sound of tires screeching on his right. His eyes moved to the direction of the sound and he saw the shadow of an out-of-control card coming straight to him. A horrific scream filled his throat, unshouted. For someone who should have fast reactions, Dennis simply stood still, paralyzed in fear as he faced the blinding headlights of the vehicle.
All he managed to do was curl up his body and protect his face with his arms, waiting for the worst. He hoped the crash, at least, could preserve his face. He wouldn’t like to have his mom veil his body on a closed coffin, a disfigurated dead son inside it. That was all he could think of, hearing the deafening beating of his heart. In the end, in a morbid way, he was coming back to Nebraska.
Then the crash finally came. The horrible sound of metal colliding against something solid, something hard and resistant. Dennis opened his eyes, feeling his entire body ache, not because he was crushed, but because of the tension that creeped into every single one of his muscle strains. It took him some time to finally understand what was happening, but eventually he managed to distinguish frightened voices coming from the inside of the bar.
The car crashed against a brick wall, merely a meter away from him. The glass of the windshield and windows was completely shattered into thousands of pieces spread on the floor; the vehicle’s bodywork was destroyed beyond salvage, and the engine stopped working on the impact. Someone touched his shoulder and Dennis had the impression he was asked if he was okay. He could not answer that; he did not know the answer. And even if he did, it simply didn’t matter — his eyes were fixated on the unconscious driver.
Dennis’ body hadn’t moved when his life was in danger, but as soon as he identified a hurt person his instincts kicked in and he started moving. Dennis plunged himself towards the car, pulling the handle desperately in the hopes the door wasn’t locked.
“Sir! Sir, can you hear me?!” his voice came out tearing from his throat, trembling with the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Dennis swallowed dryly at the lack of response and took his phone out of the pocket. In instants, he called 911 and circled the car trying to get to the driver’s window.
The line rang twice till the voice of a woman picked up on the other side.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
Dennis shoved his face inside the car through the broken window, trying to see the man’s state. He was moaning and had his face buried in the airbag; a red stain of blood dripped from his eyebrow.
“Car accident on Wood Street, in front of Joel’s” his voice was more controlled now; assertive. “A middle aged man is injured and semicontinuous. He has visible lacerations on his face, might have hit his head, and there’s a possibility of broken bones and internal bleeding.”
“Alright, sir. I’m sending an ambulance as we speak. The team will be arriving in about three minutes” the woman replied calmly on the other side of the line. Dennis mumbled something back and ended the call, trying once again to get the driver’s attention.
“Sir, sir- Can you hear me?” he asked a second time, extending his arm to feel the man’s heartbeat from his jugular. It was strong, which was a good sign.
The unknown driver moved his head lightly, opening his eyes towards Dennis.
“The boy… Did I hit the boy…?” his voice was weak and rasp and the man was having difficulties lifting his face from the airbag. The student doctor felt a warm wave cross his chest, touched by the man’s concerns.
“No, no one is hurt” Dennis said composedly, trying to tranquilize the man. “Please, avoid moving, there’s a paramedics team on the way. Can you follow my fingers with your eyes?”
The man blinked a couple of times, focusing his brown eyes on Dennis’s fingers, red pads due to the extreme cold. The boy moved his hand left and right, then up and down. The injured man’s eyes followed through carefully, and Dennis confirmed there was no apparent neurological damage.
“Is everything okay, son?”
He moved a step back and for the first time since he saw the injured man he took his eyes away to something else. By his side, there was an older woman, looking at the two anxiously worried. Dennis remembered she was one of the bartenders.
“He’s stable at the moment…” he spoke slowly, feeling how it was becoming harder for him to breathe. “We need to give some space to the medical team” he looked straight to the bar’s entrance, where a curious crowd gathered beside the door. “Can you take them inside?” he asked.
The woman squeezes her hands on top of her chest, scared eyes still on the bloody driver. She nodded in a silent agreement and walked towards the group, telling them to step aside and give them some space. Somewhere behind him, Dennis started to listen to the sirens.
“Sir, can you tell me your name?” he asked the driver, trying to keep him lucid and awake.
“Matthew..” the man responded, still having difficulties.
“I’m Dennis. Dennis Whitaker” he presented himself cordially, a coy smile on his face. “Were you feeling unwell while driving, Matthew? Did you take anything before driving?”
The man moaned again and closed his eyes in pain.
“No… No, it was the ice. The ice…”
Dennis took a good look at the tires. They were completely worn out. It wouldn’t be difficult to lose control during normal days, let alone when streets were this slippery with ice. He simply nodded, trying not to judge the man despite his decision of taking the wheel on improper conditions.
“It’s all right, Matthew. The paramedics are arriving.”
He backed away from the car and finally spotted the ambulance. The breaks were hit harshly and the vehicle stopped by his side. A pair of paramedics left the back of the ambulance, and Dennis opened the way for them.
“Okay, what have we got here?” the woman asked rhetorically, looking at the state of things.
“His name is Matthew, said he lost control because of the ice. He’s lucid now and has no apparent neurological damage, but there’s a clear cut on his eyebrow and several excoriations on his body” Dennis practically threw up all the info he’d gathered “there might be hidden fractures or internal bleeding.”
The man close to him arched an eyebrow, inserting a hook on inside the car window breach to unlock the door from the inside.
“You a doctor or what, kid?”
“No-, no. I’m just… a student doctor” he answered, cautiously.
“Well, it seems like our man Matthew here is a lucky man, am I right?” the paramedic smiled, unbothered by the situation like it was just another regular day. Dennis smiled back, though his was weird and disconcerted. “Alright mr. Matthew, we’re gonna get you out of there and take you to a hospital, that sound good to you?”
Matthew let out a moan as answer, probably agreeing with the man. The paramedic carefully unbuckled Matthew’s seatbelt and sustained his body as his partner approached them with the gurney. Together, they got the man onto the stretcher with precise movements, laying him down and immobilizing him after he was settled.
“Okay Matthew, we’re on the way to the hospital” the woman talked to the patient as they moved the gurney to the back of the ambulance. Dennis followed in close. “I’m gonna need you to stay awake and talk to us, alright?”
“Yeah…” the man answered, pulling in some effort to make his voice audible.
“Three, two, one…” the team counted in unison, lifting the gurney back inside the vehicle. Masterfully, they locked the wheels from moving and plugged Matthew into a monitoring device. Dennis let out a sigh of relief when he heard the rhythmic and constant beeps. His pulse is still strong, he thought.
“We’re almost ready to go, Jeff” the woman warned the ambulance driver as she sat in her place. She then turned her face to Dennis, and he finally realised the man was also looking at him. Not even knowing why, he felt embarrassed and blushed.
“Come on man, let’s go” the paramedic offered his hand to help Dennis get on the ambulance.
“Me? I-I’m good, you can go.”
The duo exchanged a glance, incredulous.
“Sweetie, you’re hurt. We’re taking you to the hospital as well” the woman was visibly impatient with Dennis' reluctance, but she made her best effort to sound heartwarming.
Dennis swallowed dryly and felt the air leave his lungs.
“Hurt…?”
He finally took a look at himself. Because of the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he wasn’t feeling much, but he then realised the countless cuts in his arms and hands, some with glass shards still lodged in his skin. His eyes widened in shock. Even when he raised his hand to check on Matthew’s pulse, he simply didn’t pay attention to his own injuries.
“Come on, doc, your doctor friends are gonna get you ready to go in no time” the male paramedic smiled at him once again, shaking his hand for Dennis to take. Dennis felt a little catatonic and dizzy now that the adrenaline was leaving his system and he started to realise the state he was in, but he grabbed the man’s hand and got into the ambulance.
He took his seat and buckled his seatbelt as the man closed the backdoors and gave the driver the order to leave. The ambulance finally started moving and Dennis began to think of him and not Matthew’s wellbeing. Oh yeah, I could’ve died. Mum might have seen me before New Years Eve, though not the way she’d liked.
A nervous laugh was stuck in his throat and Dennis realised he had shivers all over and his hands were trembling. The man on his side tried to comfort him, telling Dennis they’d soon arrive at the hospital. The woman chatted with Matthew to keep him awake.
Dennis did not answer the paramedic, he simply could not as exhaustion began to hit him like a truck. His entire body ached and he felt like he could fall to the ground at any moment, if it weren’t for the tight seatbelt keeping him in place.
At some point, the man snapped his fingers in front of Dennis’ face.
“Hey kid, you with me? What’s your name?”
Dennis turned his face towards the man, but immediately regretted his decision for he felt like his head was spinning like a soccer ball.
“Dennis… Dennis Whitaker” he mumbled an answer out.
“Alright Dennis, you don’t look so fine. What are you feeling?”
Dennis blinked his eyes slowly, trying to synthetise what he was actually feeling. Pain. A lot of pain. Not from the cuts, from everything. From being alone, away from his family and friends, from living an almost death experience. He fought to pay attention to the paramedic, and talking back seemed like an even tougher battle to fight.
“I’m tired, that’s all” he lied, letting out deep sighs as he breathed.
The man didn’t seem to buy it, but he didn’t press Dennis.
“Ok Dennis, we’re almost there. They’re gonna take care of your cuts and see if there’s nothing else wrong with you, got it?” it was the woman speaking. She seemed way less annoyed now that Dennis wasn’t slowing their departure.
“Uh-huh” was all he could mumble as an answer.
He leaned his head against the cold metal walls of the ambulance and fixed his eyes on the monitoring screen that kept track of Matthew’s heart beating. They were fast, but normal for someone who had just crashed a car. In this place, at this time, the sound of his heartbeat was so rhythmic that Dennis could simply close his eyes and sleep to it like it was a lullaby being hummed to him.
The vehicle took a turn and suddenly stopped. The paramedics removed their seatbelts and got up from their seats. Dennis felt like doing the same, but judged it’d be better to wait until both of them had gotten Matthew out of the ambulance.
The backdoors opened and the cold night air sent shivers down his spine. Outside, he heard an oddly familiar voice speak.
“Okay, what have you got for us in there?” it was a man speaking. The voice was firm and self-assured. Dennis liked that voice; it was deep, but the way the man sounded was comforting. It’s like this most of the time, he thought involuntarily.
“Two injured in a car crash” the woman spoke, getting out of the vehicle as she lifted the gurney out with her partner’s help. Both paramedics were now outside, leaving only Dennis behind. “The driver hit the car against a wall and cut his head. He’s conscious for now and has strong vitals. You still with us, Matthew?”
“Yes, ma’am” his voice sounded better already. Dennis felt relief spread across his heart.
“Nice to meet you, Matthew. I’m Dr. Michael Robinavitch, we’ll take care of you now” he finally appeared on Dennis’ eyesight. He was still wearing the same blue scrubs he wore earlier, when Dennis left his daily shift. His glasses were stuck in his collar and the black sweatshirt was half-closed, partially protecting him from the cold.
“How are you feeling, Matthew? Do you have allergies to any medication?” Dr. Abbot stopped by Dr. Robby’s side, looking straight in the eyes of the immobilized man.
“Lots of pain… And cold” Matthew laughed, dryly. “I’m allergic to Tylenol.”
“Alright, we’re gonna get you inside where it's warm” Dr. Robby smiled, turning back to someone out of Dennis’ sight. “South 19 is free, but first I want a full X-Ray to see if there’s any fracture, and keep monitoring his blood pressure, there might be internal bleeding we don’t know of.”
The paramedic woman guided the gurney away along with PTMC’s staff. Dennis knew who was at the night shift, but right now he couldn’t remember anyone even if he got paid to do it. Hell, he probably couldn’t even remember his social security number if anyone were to ask.
“Page neurology, just in case” Dr. Robby continued, and far away a female voice agreed with his instructions.
“And the other injured?” Dr. Abbot asked the paramedic that was standing beside the door. The man turned to Dennis’s direction.
“Young man injured in the accident, got rained on with multiple glass shards. He said his name’s Dennis, but he’s a little fuzzy now that adrenaline is leaving his blood” he got back into the ambulance and unbuckled Dennis. With no restriction holding him back, he almost fell forward, but the man hold him back. “Come on buddy, your doctor friends are here.”
Dennis almost laughed at that. If he had any strength left, he certainly would have. It was a beautiful and cruel irony that the ambulance took him to the hospital he actually worked at and had friends… Even if he couldn’t call Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbot like that. They were his attendings, Dennis felt both admired and intimidated by the duo that finally glanced in his direction.
“Holy shit, Whitaker” Dr. Robby gasped, surprised. Dennis swallowed dryly, already feeling uncomfortable for being there as a patient. Somehow, it felt wrong; he felt guilty. For brief seconds, he actually wished the car had hit him, so that he could be in Heaven with His Lord Jesus Christ instead of here. “What happened to you, kid?”
Dennis moaned as the paramedic helped him get out of the ambulance. Dr. Robby’s strong and firm hands held him by his shoulders and his clinical eyes studied the boy’s body, observing the countless cuts and glass shards.
“I’m sorry Dr. Robby…” he whispered with effort. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but Dennis felt like crying.
“You’re apologizing because a car almost hit you, kid?” Dr. Abbot let out a dry laugh. He had grabbed a wheelchair somewhere to accommodate Dennis. “Come, put him in here.”
The paramedic followed the instructions and helped Dennis seat. He felt soft like jello and like he had been ground into meat, such was the pain that irradiated through his muscle strains. Dr. Robby crouched in front of him, worried eyes fixated on Dennis’ face.
“It’s alright, Whitaker, we’ll take care of you” he reassured the student doctor with a soft smile, despite the clear worry in his eyes. Dennis felt his eyes watering, even if he did not have the energy to cry.
It was a whirlwind of multiple things at the same time. Cheap beer, loneliness, pain, shame, almost death, exhaustion… All in front of people he estimated and looked up to. Night couldn’t be more humiliating or cruel to him.
“You have lots of cuts in your arms and face, but most don’t seem that deep” Dr. Robby analysed, getting back on his feet. On my face too?, he thought, surprised. Instinctively, he lifted his hand to touch himself, trying to feel something.
“Ah, ah, ah” Dr. Abbot held his hand. Dennis trembled with his firm and warm grip, shrinking even more into the wheelchair. “You know better than that, kid. We don’t want an infection on your pretty face, do we?”
Dennis pressed his lips, feeling even worse. He was exhausted and seemed to have lost all sense of basic procedures such as not touching open wounds with unclean hands.
“Sorry, sir” his voice was a low whine, and he directed his eyes to his worn out sneakers.
“It’s okay, Whitaker” Dr. Robby sighed. He indicated the hospital with a movement of his head and the group started moving, Dr. Abbot pushing Dennis’ wheelchair. “North 13 is free, we’re gonna take you there and get you better in no time, ok?”
Dennis mumbled something in agreement, but kept his eyes on the floor. The automatic doors opened and soon they were inside the white and bright interior of the ER. The fluorescent lights disturbed Dennis’ eyes, and he immediately closed them. From somewhere, he heard Dr. Shen’s voice.
“Whitaker, what happened to you, little man?”
“Our mouse catcher here got rained on with glass in a car crash” Dr. Abbot answered in his place, pragmatic as always.
“Fuck. What a shitty Christmas, huh, Whitaker?” Dr. Shen lamented in that unique way of his where it was impossible to tell if he was actually sympathizing or just poking at the wound even more.
“Yeah, it’s just that I wanted to spend it with you guys” Dennis answered in the same tone, slight irony in his voice. Dr. Robby chuckled.
“Didn’t know you liked us that much, Whitaker” his attending commented as he opened the doors to North 13. Dr. Abbot stopped the wheelchair by the gurney whilst Dr. Robby closed the doors and curtains to give them more privacy.
“C’mere kiddo” Dr. Abbot passed his arms through Dennis’s torso, helping him get on his feet. Dennis felt like he wasn't lifting a goddamn muscle and let the older man do all the work for him. If that was the case, it seemed like no effort to the ex-military, hence he effortlessly sat Dennis on the bed.
“Thank you” Dennis barely whispered, still looking at his feet.
“Thank me later, boy. Now let me look at your face.”
Dr. Abbot’s strong and calloused hand held his chin firmly. He had crazy precision with his fingers, for Dennis could feel he held his face with strength without hurting his skin. The older man turned Dennis’ face around to see it better, and Dennis saw himself incapable of turning his eyes away from Dr. Abbot.
His brown eyes were focused on the cuts on Dennis face, intensely watching every detail of his lacerations. He lifted his free hand and pressed his index finger on the boy’s temple, touching his skin so softly Dennis felt a shiver run down his spine. Dr. Abbot traced a path with the tip of his finger from Dennis’s forehead to his cheek, and in that moment the boy let out a hiss of pain.
“This one is gonna need a few stitches” Dr. Robby noted as he approached both men. He had a pair of steel scissors in hand. “Can you lift up your arms for me, Whitaker?”
“Yes, sir” he let out a low agreement, relaxing when Dr. Abbot let go of his face and walked away towards the material drawers without saying another word. Dennis adjusted himself on the gurney, feeling uneasy, and did what he was told.
The senior doctor stood in front of Dennis and held his forearms gently. In swift movement, he cut open the sleeves of the boy’s sweater. Finally, he got to look directly at his patient’s injuries, as red blood dripped from the cuts into the floor.
“It is a nice sweater” Dr. Robby spoke with a heavy voice, resting the scissors on a metal tray to his left. Carefully, he rolled the open sleeves till over Denni’s elbows. “What a shame to ruin it.”
“My mom made it for me” the remark left his mouth involuntarily, and Dr. Robby raised his eyes to Dennis’. That made him blush, feeling even more ashamed. The way he had spoken, it seemed like he was blaming Dr. Robby for ruining it, which was never his intention. Dennis pressed his lips on a tight line, not knowing what else to say.
“She’s clearly skilled” his attending smiled kindly and patted his shoulder friendly to try and tranquilize the boy. It wasn’t uncommon for his senior to touch him like that; in the beginning, Dennis felt weird and kind of uncomfortable, but now it felt like something natural, and there were times he longed for his supervisor’s touch. “Now, let’s take care of these cuts.”
Dr. Robby pulled a stall to sit to the level of Dennis’s raised arms, and Dr. Abbot handed him a pair of tweezers and a metal bucket. Robby took the materials and laid them across the same metal tray he’d left the scissors in.
“Thanks, Jack. You’re staying to help?”
“Seems like you’ve got everything under control, despite our mouse catcher still looking uneasy” he said, eyes scanning Denni’s reactions. He saw himself embarrassed again, and for a second time he blushed. Dr. Abbot smiled at him. “Don’t worry, kid. I’d be like that too if a car almost hit me.”
I highly doubt that, he thought. Abbot had been through much worse stuff than that. Dennis did not know the details, but it was clear by the way he behaved even in front of the worst situations. He could recall with precision the confidence and authority the man exhaled during the Pittfest incident, the first day he ever saw Dr. Abbot. He was a commander in a battlefield, taking care of everything and everyone, be they patients, nurses, residents or an MS4 like himself. Even other attendings. Dennis could not avoid it and looked away to Robby’s direction. The man was now starting to delicately work to get the glass shards from being stuck into Dennis’ flesh.
“Thank you, sir” Dennis appreciated the lie. It was hard to imagine Abbot in that same situation, but he still felt comfort in his attempt to tranquilize Dennis. It wasn’t common seeing Abbot comforting others.
He just nodded his head and placed his right hand on Dr. Robby’s shoulders, grabbing him firmly.
“I’ll let you handle this and I’ll see how’s Dr. Ellis and the driver, ‘kay?”
“Uh-huh” Robby was now focused on his task and eventually put on his glasses to see the transparent glass pieces. “Tell me if you need me.”
“Will do” Abbot looked at Dennis one last time and then walked to the door, leaving both men alone with nothing else but the sound of their breathing and the AC.
The student doctor inhaled deeply, trying to refrain from moaning from the pain as Dr. Robby removed glass from his skin. Inside the metal bucked, the pile of shattered glass kept growing, and a part of Dennis wondered what Mel’d say about it when he told her of the incident. After worrying for his wellbeing, would she complain she wasn’t present to perform this extremely arduous task.
“We’re down to one arm left” Dr. Robby announced, letting go of Dennis’s right forearm gently. He grasped the left forearm in his hands, long and strong fingers wrapping Denni’s flesh in extreme delicacy. “You’re gonna need sometime off of work, Whitaker.”
“I’m sorry, sir” he apologized once again, feeling even more guilty, even though he did not know of what.
“Hey, listen to me” Dr. Robby lifted his face to look at Dennis directly. His eyes weren’t severe, quite the opposite actually, it was caring and serene, and Dennis felt like he would melt if he continued to look into those dark brown orbs. “I don’t know what’s going on that head of yours, but you gotta stop apologizing, okay? You suffered an accident, Whitaker. You’re a patient. We’ll take care of you, got it?”
Dennis sniffed softly and nodded his head, unable to speak. He felt that if he opened his mouth, he’d say the wrong thing and make everything worse.
“Good boy” Robby smiled at him, grasping his arm a little more firmly. Dennis’ heartbeat felt a little stronger, which was a common thing to happen when Dr. Robby touched him like that. “Now let’s finish this.”
And just like that, he got back to his quest of removing every piece of glass he found lodged into Dennis’ skin, may it be tiny or big. They remained there for what felt like another fifteen minutes, until his attending felt satisfied. He stopped and looked at Dennis’ face, just like Dr. Abbot had done, but gladly there were no glass shards in his head.
Dr. Robby got rid of the material and started cleaning Dennis’ wounds. He had to control himself to not jolt out of the gurney like a stray cat when the antiseptic touched his cuts. He felt like a child running away from the sting of soap washing a scraped knee. When he was finished, Robby cleaned the room once again, and Dennis saw how he was grinning at the situation. That made him feel even worse, like an incapable child, and not a student doctor.
“Still hurting?”
“A lot” he agreed.
“I’ll ask them to give you a dose of paracetamol when we’re done, ok?” Dr. Robby sat in front of him again and this time he wet his cuts with an anesthetic mixture to avoid the pain of the stitches.
“Yes, sir.”
“Call me Robby. I’m not supervising you right now, Whitaker” he dumped the wet gauze on the metal tray and prepared himself to start stitching the deeper cuts of Dennis’arm.
“Yes si- I mean… Robby” he agreed clumsily, seeing as the hook penetrated his skin, passing the black line between the sides of his cute. “You can call me Dennis, too. If you want” he let out a low mumble, eyes focused on Robby’s neat work.
“Alright then, Dennis” Robby agreed in a chuckle, hooking another portion of meat before closing the stitch and cutting the line. “Were you having a nice Christmas, Dennis? Before almost gettin’ hit, of course.”
Dennis thought about his answer whilst Robby started closing another one of his cuts. The most absolute truth was no, undoubtedly no, but that saw not the kind of stuff he wanted to share with his attending. Of course, Robby was just doing some small talk, as it was common in a doctor-patient relationship, but in a couple of days when he returned to his shifts, Dennis would see him again as his senior, not his doctor, and he didn’t want Robby to look at him full of pity when he realised his MS4 was nothing but a pathetic lonely guy.
Still, he didn’t want to lie to him.
“No, not actually” he confessed after some time in silence. His voice was heavy with undisclosed pain, and Robby lifted his eyes to stare at Dennis. Just like with Dr. Abbot, Dennis felt uneasy, blood flowing in his cheeks. The man in front of him didn’t seem to bother with his clear discomfort, lingering his deep eyes on Dennis’ for a little longer.
“Sorry to hear that, kid” Dennis felt Robby was being sincere, but had no courage to thank for his sympathy. He felt worse at every word exchanged with his attendings, a needy boy for whom his seniors felt pity; an incapable, helpless farmboy. Dennis looked away from Robby’s sight, that overwhelming feeling of crying taking over again. He let Robby continue his work.
They spent a few more minutes in silence until his attending finished taking care of his arms. Robby then got up from his stool and got closer to Dennis’ face, where he needed a stitch on his cheek. Obediently, Dennis turned his face in the right direction, keeping himself still despite the growing anxiety in his chest because of his attending proximity.
If Robby noticed, he did not speak on it. He stitched the cut with perfection and backed away from Dennis, organizing the used utensils and throwing away the garbage.
“I’ll send someone to give you your medication. If you feel anything, don’t hesitate and call for help” he said, to which Dennis responded with a nod. Robby’s face darkened a little, and he let out a tired sigh. “This is an order, got it, Whitaker?”
His entire body shivered with the change in Robby’s voice tone. The same seriousness he possessed when commanding the doctors who were under his wing. Dr. Robby was, most of the times, a pleasant person to be around, but Dennis still felt haunted by the occasions he witnessed Robby’s fury.
“Yes, sir” he agreed in a mumble.
Robby’s face softened but, somehow, Dennis was left under the impression that there was sadness in his eyes when he looked at him.
“Try to rest a little if you can” he advised and then left North 13, leaving the boy alone, perfectly cleaned and stitched.
Not much after a duo of nurses entered the room. One took care of medicating and accommodating Dennis, whilst the other organized the rest of the room and cleaned the blood droplets that had dripped to the white floor earlier. When they left, they dimmed the lights of the room, and Dennis laid down in the gurney, feeling as the pain backed away because of the meds.
He was exhausted, physically and emotionally; he wanted nothing more but to sleep and wake up in his bed in Nebraska, with the sounds of a waking farm at dawn. He thought of his mum, his father and brothers, and how they were probably still gathered for Christmas. All happy. Without him.
That’s when the tears got the best of him and Dennis started to cry alone, in the dark, like the pathetic and lonely boy that he was. His hiccups were low, but strong enough to make his body shake. The tears streamed through his face onto the pillow, wetting it thoroughly. And in this deplorable state, after possibly his worst night ever, Dennis fell asleep.