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Jack ripped off his gloves and swiped a hand over his brow, huffing in frustration as he bowed his head. The very last little girl who had arrived, presenting symptoms too late; nothing he could do. Fucking waterparks. Fucking Fourth of July. Fucking God Bless America.
He glanced up through the windows of Trauma 1 to see Robby slowly walking from the direction of the Family Room. His hands were in his pockets as he exchanged some final words with two trembling parents, curled into one another with grief. They appeared to bid him a tearful farewell and left. Jack watched Robby stand there for a while. His hands were still bunched in his pockets; his eyes were distant, cast upon the ground; he was biting his lip.
Without willing it Jack’s feet began to move. He leaned against the door and emerged into the central hub, but by the time he got there Robby was disappeared by the general chaos.
Jack sighed and turned to Dana, whose hair and ironic grin were falling out of their usual neat twists. “Robby?” he asked, voice rougher than he’d expected it to be. Fucking kids dying.
Dana pursed her lips concernedly as she turned towards him, shuffling a few papers in her grasp. “He was with the parents of the eight-year-old boy who was here a few hours ago,” she said with that certain tone which meant the boy was no longer here. Jack hung his head.
“Hell of a last shift, huh?” he asked, smile blooming on his face at the horrible absurdity of it.
Dana huffed a laugh. “Figures. Just had to be little ones dying on us. The Robinavitch heartbreaker special,” she joked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Weakly, she added: “Kids. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.” Her voice creaked halfway through. Her gaze fell down to her desk, where Jack knew photos of her girls were buried behind mountains of hours-old paperwork.
He put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed a thumb back and forth. “Work’s almost over, Dana,” he said. There was a flicker in her eyes at that, but she chuckled hoarsely again and readjusted her hair clip to little effect.
“So don’t you go distracting me and making me stay even later, Jack Abbot. I know about flirts like you,” she responded, turning and filing something else away, a constant miracle of motion. “Besides, someone else needs your attention more than this old bitty.” Jack pressed a kiss to her cheek, making her laugh.
“If you’re an old bitty, then I’m practically a mummy,” he said, eliciting an approving smile. He walked away feeling the warm glow of Dana Evans’ amusement, however temporary. It was then swiftly overwhelmed by concern for Robby.
Jack took a quick walking tour of the ED, glancing into each room and searching for the elusive man himself, but he was nowhere to be found in Central or South. Just as Jack’s heart rate began to pick up with dread, he spotted Robby ducking behind a curtain in the North bay to speak to McKay and her patient.
Jack sighed with relief before being yanked into a consult by an exhausted-looking Javadi and an even more exhausted-looking Ogilvie, trailing behind her with a certain reticence he hadn’t seen out of the little jackass all day. Shitty first shift but an ego has to break somehow.
After he finally managed to placate the two child geniuses he made his escape from the room, panicking when he didn’t spot Robby’s sneakers under the curtain of North 3. Then with a cursory glance Jack caught sight of him laying a hand on Langdon’s shoulder. The young man’s face was aglow with that special kind of happiness only Robby’s approval could grant. Jack frowned and approached.
“Thank you,” Jack heard Langdon breathe as he got in earshot. Langdon then seemed to war with himself for a moment before he lost the battle and quickly looped his arms around Robby, jumping into an impulsive embrace. Robby didn’t appear disturbed at all; just patted his back with a placid sort of smile that didn’t fade even as Langdon remembered himself, winced, and backed away.
“I forgive you. Please forgive me,” Robby said, hand still on Langdon’s arm. A jolt of electricity shot down Jack’s spine.
“Of course,” Langdon said, nodding. “Of course, Robby.”
“Yeah,” Jack drawled skeptically, sliding in beside Langdon. “Robby, can I talk to you?” Robby didn’t look at him, still staring with warm, dim eyes at Langdon; the only acknowledgement he gave was in the little duck of his head. After hesitating a moment, Langdon frowned and backed away.
Jack slid a hand down Robby’s forearm and turned his back so they were hidden from Princess’ piercing gaze. “Wanna tell me what that’s about, brother?” he asked under his breath.
Robby looked at a spot on the ground a few feet away, still grinning contentedly. “I just didn’t want to leave things unsettled. I’m getting out of here soon, I swear,” he tried to say casually, but his tone sounded more thin and reedy. It only half-convinced Jack that he meant what he said.
“You’re still sure about this?” Jack asked, looking off in the distance and contemplating how best to approach Robby when he was spooked like this, like a—a primadonna racehorse. He jumped when he realized said racehorse had burst through the gates and was no longer at his elbow but rather walking across the floor, making his way back to Central. Jack took a skipping start and then jogged after.
Robby was pressing something into Whitaker’s hand and saying a kind word in passing to Santos when Jack caught wind of him again. “Robby,” Jack said, but the man only glanced at him over his shoulder before becoming distracted, throwing a wave to Mel and Ellis across the room. “Robby.”
“Dana!” Robby greeted effusively, and put out his arms. “I’m heading out.”
She furrowed her brow but gave him a smile, setting down her papers and leaning in for a hug. “You gonna be alright, Robby? You don’t wanna stick around for drinks in the park, or come say hi to my girls before you leave? Get a good start tomorrow morning after you’ve had some sleep?” she asked, rubbing a hand down his arm. Jack arrived behind and shared a glance with her.
“No. Thank you, Dana. Gotta get on the road,” Robby said shortly, smiling with his teeth before he bit down on it; then he stepped out of her embrace. “And so should you. Wrap up here, hand it over. We’re leaving things in Dr. Abbot’s very capable hands,” he said with a glint in his eye and a glance back at Jack, who frowned at the flattery.
Robby turned and took Jack in his arms briefly. His grip was loose at first, then bracing—fingers clutching at his scrubs—and too quickly Robby fell back, a quiet wheeze shaking out of his lungs. His shining brown eyes found Jack’s before wavering and ultimately tearing themselves away. “Bye,” he said, the word strangled and hushed. With one last glazed glance around the room Robby choked off a smile and walked towards the lockers, leaving Jack and Dana standing behind.
“Wear a helmet!” she shouted after him. Jack tipped his head to the side and widened his eyes, staring at Dana. She pursed her lips, then muttered: “Don’t let him leave.”
“Call Shen. I’m going off the clock,” Jack murmured in return, thanked the universe Al-Hashimi hadn’t left yet, and hustled off to the ambulance bay.
Robby wasn’t there, but that didn’t matter. The motorcycle was. As long as Robby wasn’t on it there was still something Jack could do. He debated the merits of letting the air out of its tires before he settled on just sitting on the bike and waiting.
A few minutes later Robby paced outside, backpack slung over one shoulder and helmet dangling loosely from his other hand. He stilled when he saw Jack, then shook his head and approached. “What are you doing, Jack?” Robby spat.
Jack leaned back, hands braced against the leather seat. “You’re not going on a trip,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. Or wherever you’re going, you have no intention of coming back.”
Robby stared at him for a second, arms going limp. “Some would say that fits the definition of a trip,” he replied weakly. “The undiscovered country, and all that.” Jack huffed with frustration and stood.
“Don’t give me that shit, Robby. Not to me.” Robby grit his teeth and looked to the side.
“Oh, so what? Why do I have to explain myself to you? You get this, you—” Robby sighed. “You’d think you might appreciate some gallows humor, after everything.”
“And you think if you keep joking about it I’m not going to act like it’s real,” Jack said. “But I know gallows and I know humor and I know what I’m seeing right now. Don’t give me shit, Robby.”
“It’s not shit, Jack.” Robby looked exhausted. “I’m being serious.”
“You wanna be serious, huh? Okay, then. Come up to the roof with me.”
Robby blinked. “What the fuck? No, I’m not—” he shook his head. “I’m leaving.” He took a step to the side to try to get around, but Jack refused to budge, standing steadfastly in his way. “Let me leave, Jack,” he said in a poor imitation of sternness.
“What, so you can pancake yourself on the road and make me drive out to Minnesota or some shit to identify you? Real nice, Robinavitch.” He sniffed, tipping up his chin to look at Robby’s sorry, broken face. “No. I have something I want to say to you up there, and after that if you still wanna get scraped off the pavement then you can do it from up there. We’re all gonna live with the guilt wherever it happens. You don’t get to distance yourself from the hurt you’re trying to put us through,” he growled, then wiped a hand over his mouth. Robby’s face went slack. Jack took the opportunity to grab his arm, yank the helmet out of his hand, and frog-march him towards the entrance. “Come on.”
They passed by the hub in a haze. Mohan tried to pull them aside for a consult and Jack had to squeeze Robby’s arm in a tight grip to keep him from following her, or worse, trying to say goodbye to her. He sent Mohan a pleading look. Her face transformed into a clay mask of concern and she faltered, going quiet and standing still as they left her behind.
“Elevator, come on,” he murmured under his breath to Robby. The man kept his gaze firmly on their shoes. If that suited him, fine, whatever. As long as he didn’t say goodbye.
They walked in the elevator, the sliding doors cutting them off from the sounds of the ED. Jack only lived with the silence for a moment before huffing. “So you were just going to leave me with ‘Bye’, then? That’s all I get?”
Robby didn’t turn to look at him. “No,” he managed to say defensively after a moment. That didn’t tell Jack much. Maybe he left a note somewhere. He readjusted his grip on Robby’s arm, the pads of his fingers pressing into flesh. Proof of life.
When the elevator doors slid back again, Jack dragged Robby out, swiping his card to open the doors. They were hit with a wave of warmth on the breeze, sweet-smelling and yet stuffy evening air; humid and delightful in the way all summer nights were. It was nearing sunset at the end of the long day. Perfect for Jack’s purposes.
Robby stopped short, stubborn feet refusing to go on though they were nowhere near the railing. “What are we doing here, man?” he asked. “I can’t—I’m not doing this here, I don’t wanna do this here. Why did you take me up here?”
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up and let me tell you?” Jack grunted, his anger getting the better of him. He sighed and relinquished his grip on Robby’s arm. If Robby wanted to stay far away from the railing, that was his prerogative, and frankly it would make Jack feel a lot better, but it wasn’t going to stop Jack from approaching the edge. He had a reason for it.
He walked and anchored two hands on the rail, allowing tension to seep out of his brain and into his arms, rigid with an iron grip. “You wanna know why I come here sometimes?”
He heard Robby shuffle on his feet behind him. “Passive suicidal tendencies?” he piped up after a moment. Jack ducked his head and laughed with irritation. This fucking guy.
“Yeah; yeah, I guess. But that’s what they are, Robby. Passive. I don’t have the gall to actually pull that shit anymore. I thought we were on the same page with that. Then I turn around and here you are with a plan,” he groused. Robby didn’t respond.
“I had a plan once,” Jack said finally. The scuff of shoes on concrete, then—
“What? When?” Robby asked, appearing at his elbow. Jack laughed again.
“Does it matter? It was years ago. And I’m still here, don’t have a cow,” he said, turning to look at Robby’s distressed face for a moment before glancing back out at the pale rainbow of colors making a gradient across the sky. “But it was here. Right here.”
Jack bent, leaning on his elbows against the rail. “I don’t know, I was—fed up. Empty. Everything kept going so absurdly wrong. Kept losing people. Patients and people I knew. My life was just an ugly, jagged path of loss and losing. I didn’t recognize myself anymore. Seemed like the only way to go, right? So I sorted out my stuff, wrote a note, whole nine yards. Gave you a half-assed goodbye at the end of my shift like you tried to give me. Something you’d never remember even if I told you about it now. And then I came up here.” Robby let out a shaky breath.
Jack leaned forwards, getting a good glimpse of the ground. “I had been looking over the edge for a while, just thinking, this is it, man, you know, this is when I go, this is really it, my whole life has been leading to this moment here, right here, when I got this weird feeling. Really weird, Robby. Like an inexplicable… joy.” Jack took a sharp breath and interrupted himself, turning to Robby again. “You remember, uh, terminal lucidity?”
“Yeah, see it all the time. Looks like they’re getting better just to up and die. I hate it when they fake us out like that. And it was a topic in med school, remember?” Robby supplied, ever the know-it-all in the face of a rhetorical question. Jack laughed.
“Yeah. Yeah, I remember,” he replied incredulously. “Technically it’s mostly for neurodegenerative patients, you know, but there’s this whole broader phenomenon. The lightning before death, Shakespeare called it.” Robby’s brow perked up at the rare quotation, and he leaned closer to Jack.
“Well, at first the feeling started as this weird, like, gratification? That I finally figured out the way it was all gonna go. Read the last word and finished the long story, so I could close the book. It felt like a satisfying ending. All those loose threads tied up nice and neat.” Jack bit out the last word, then ducked his head and took a breath before continuing. “But then something ridiculous happened. Never could have seen it coming. You’ll laugh.”
“Oh?” Robby said, looking back out at the broad swaths of oranges and pinks.
“Yeah. The sun rose.” Robby did laugh. So did Jack.
“I know, I know, very cliche of me, but—” Jack snapped his fingers—“lightning. I felt the lightning. Suddenly all these emotions I thought were dead forever, calcified out of my heart, came rushing back in and I felt like I was just cracked open, you know, light was pouring out of me like the sunrise, and all the beautiful things that life still had to offer were on display for me like God was in the sky saying Sorry, Jack, here’s the repayment on your karmic debt, and I felt everything but most of all I felt fucking—hope, again. That all the mourning I did was all for something, even if that something was just finding meaning in the sun rising every morning. That waiting around in the dark meant eventually I’d see the light again. Thank the lord for the night shift,” he added. “So guess what I did?”
Robby pursed his lips. “Didn’t jump?” he asked, like an asshole.
Jack huffed. “Yeah, you asshole, I didn’t jump. But I still come back here for the sunrise when I feel like I’m dying, you know? Have ever since, and I haven’t wanted to jump a single one of those times. Not actually. I just—” he looked down at his hands. “Sometimes I just need to feel the lightning again. Because working in the Pitt isn’t a big enough reminder of my own mortality,” he said sarcastically, but it was a true statement. “Use it to shock myself out of asystole. Get my heart beating again. Feel something. Physician, heal thyself.”
Robby shook his head and chuckled under his breath. “Why are you telling me this?”
Jack leaned back, bracing his hands on the rail again. “You remember the two kinds of terminal lucidity?”
Robby frowned. “Gradual and rapid, right?”
“Yeah. Can’t stand the gradual type. Those are the guys that really get you going, you know, all week it seems like they’re getting better, they’re talking, the family is so happy. Sometimes you catch it as the warning sign it is, and sometimes like an idiot you send them home just to drop dead three days later. It’s more like thunder than lightning.” He turned to Robby. “Brother, your thunder is so loud I can barely hear myself think.”
Robby scoffed and scuffed his shoe on the ground, tilting his head to the side like he always did when Jack called him on his shit, so he kept calling him on it. “I can see it in your eyes, man, this mania. This weird smile. I don’t like it.” Robby raised a brow.
“You don’t like my smile?” he asked, flirting to deflect, but Jack didn’t take the bait.
“No. Hell no. Not that one.” Jack scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t like that one. It’s the thunder, it’s the satisfaction, it’s the sated curiosity. You need the lightning. You need to wake the fuck up. Well, here you are, man. This is it if you want it to be. Right here, right now.” Jack ducked under the railing and emerged on the other side, gesturing out behind him to the vibrant magentas spilt across the sky in so many dying clouds.
“What are you doing?” Robby asked alarmedly.
“Joining you,” Jack said. “If you’re going, I’m going, brother. Fuck the sunrise. Michael Robinavitch says it’s all not worth it anymore? Then it’s all not worth it anymore. I’ll gladly say goodbye.” Robby shot out a hand to grab Jack’s arm, but he yanked it out of his grasp.
“Stop!” Robby yelped, but Jack didn’t mind him.
“The only way you’re getting rid of me is if Jews and Catholics have separate afterlives after all. It’s a mortal lock, understand? Nothing you can do.” Robby groaned, hand flexing in its grip on the other side of the railing.
“You can’t, Jack, you—I’m not making a suicide pact with you,” he hissed.
Jack laughed. “There’s the nice thing about suicide pacts, is that technically only one person has to be on board with it,” he joked. Robby didn’t seem amused. “What, not a fan of gallows humor anymore?”
“You can’t die, Jack.” He shook his head. “They need one of us. They need you. And, everything you said, the sunrise, you—you still see something, in the world. You still have something left. You still feel something. I don’t feel anything anymore,” he said, voice faltering.
Jack’s eyes hardened. “That’s not true. You feel everything,” he said. Robby laughed disbelievingly, so he asked, “You want me to prove it?” Robby surged forward, grabbing for Jack again, as if he thought Jack was going to prove it by jumping off the side. He laughed. He let Robby grab him and reel him in, the momentum carrying him into Robby’s body only separated by the rail digging into both of their stomachs.
Jack wrapped his hand in the neck of Robby’s jacket and pulled him in. He kissed him.
There, a crack of lightning, shooting down Jack’s spine; electricity branching and sparking through his body. He wouldn’t be surprised if when the kiss broke both of them had their hair standing on end. He brushed his lips against Robby’s again, again, again, static, the rail a stark reminder pressed against his ribs. His hand caressed the side of Robby’s face, brushed over his ear, tapped on his jaw. He pulled back.
Robby’s eyes remained closed, and he exhaled shakily. Jack squinted and stared at him, gauging a reaction. He probably would not have done that under other circumstances. Probably should not have done that in this circumstance.
“Feel something?” he whispered, unable to hold back any longer.
Robby nodded, a tear slipping down the long line of his face as his eyes fluttered open. Jack brushed it away.
“Something good?” he asked, dipping his head to try to catch Robby’s gaze which was still cast upon the ground. Robby nodded again. “Lightning?” he added with a small smile. Robby laughed wetly.
Finally those brown eyes locked onto his own. “Lightning,” Robby whispered.
Jack curled a hand around Robby’s nape. “Then tell me to come back on the other side of the rail and we’ll get in the elevator and leave. If not, then you cross over here and we can take the short way down. But if there’s any sunrise, any lightning, any heartbeat, anything, Robby, then I want you to tell me to come back over. It was worth it for me. I don’t regret not jumping, not for a second.” He squeezed Robby’s neck briefly. “Tell me.”
Robby made a choked noise and covered his face with his hands for a moment, snot and tears and laughter mixing in one muffled jumble. Jack waited, unmoving.
Finally Robby uncovered his face and leaned his forehead against Jack’s. “Come over here, please,” he whispered. Jack smiled. Relief washed over him like a sheet of rain falling on the world anew.
Not needing to be told twice, he ducked underneath the railing and then straightened. Immediately Robby’s arms flew around Jack, clutching onto him with a sudden desperation. Jack reciprocated, not feeling too far off from where Robby was. A torrent of tears began to soak Jack’s shoulder. He rubbed a hand over Robby’s shaking back and let a tear or two escape himself.
“I’m not losing you, Robby,” he murmured into his ear. “I don’t care what I have to do to make sure of that. Not you. Not you, brother,” he ground out, and tightened his grip on Robby’s jacket, hand bunching into a fist, limbs winding tighter, tighter still; nothing was close enough. Robby pressed his face further into Jack’s shoulder, nosing back and forth, almost trying to burrow inside.
After a moment Jack realized Robby’s knees were going to buckle, and so were his, so he pressed down on Robby’s back and guided them both to sink to the floor of the roof. Folding his prosthetic leg over his other one was fucking painful but he made room for Robby to lean into him, and they rocked back and forth in gentle repetition.
He pressed a kiss to the crown of Robby’s head. “You’ll stay with me, for a while. Give me the keys to your motorcycle,” he said into Robby’s ear. He felt the slightest shift of Robby’s head nodding against him; then a shaking hand reached into his jacket pocket and fished out the keys. Jack’s fist closed around the offending pieces of metal and he quickly stuffed them into his own pocket, then reached back out and grabbed the still proffered palm.
“You’ll stay with me, and we’ll research some real good programs for you. Inpatient, outpatient, whatever. Just something to work on for the next three months, okay?” When he received no reply, he said again, “Okay?”
Finally Robby croaked out one sorry: “Okay.”
Jack shut his eyes against the pain. “You’ll stay with me. Forever, Robby,” he breathed. He laid his cheek on top of Robby’s head. He opened his eyes and looked up at the big sky above them, warm colors waning into darkness, still rich and beautiful and open.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “I don’t much feel like sticking around for the fireworks, do you?” Robby gave a wet chuckle.
“No,” he managed to sputter out. Jack smiled, and disentangled himself from the pile in getting on his feet. When he stood, Robby’s hand shot out and grabbed his own again. He looked down at the pale, tear-stricken face.
“I can’t lose you either, Jack. You can’t die,” he said quietly.
Jack rubbed a thumb over the back of Robby’s hand. “Well, I owe the world a death, eventually, but if I have my way it’s gonna be forty years in the future, and it’s gonna be the same day you go. Maybe another Fourth of July. We can ‘Jefferson lives’ it, you know,” he joked. “Except I wouldn’t be happy if I thought I was leaving you behind. So we can ‘Jefferson dies’ it instead.”
Robby put one hand on the railing and used the one in Jack’s hand to pull himself up, groaning as he straightened. “In this scenario, am I Adams or Jefferson?”
Jack blinked, pleasantly surprised by the pedantry. “Don’t know. Did Adams and Jefferson have gay sex, or should we maybe stop the metaphor there?” Robby burst out into a peal of laughter, the best kind—the kind where it was wildly inappropriate to the situation and therefore ten thousand times more comical. Jack felt very proud of himself all of a sudden.
“There it is,” he said. “There’s the smile I like.” Said smile became shy and hid itself away. Jack pulled Robby close. Seeing the lines of his face he felt compelled to say something else.
“Hey. I don’t want you to think that because I love you and because I’m just about as fucked up as you are that I can forgive you easily for this. I’m fucking pissed you wanted to leave things this way, Robby. So if we’re gonna be together, you have to promise not to cut out on me. No dying. No leaving without saying anything. If there’s a storm, thunder or lightning, you tell me. That’s what I’m asking you. Can you do that?” he asked. Robby’s gaze and smile faltered.
“I’m gonna let you down, Jack,” he said with a thick voice, in that self-deprecating self-fulfilling way he always had. Jack huffed, frustrated.
“No fucking kidding. That’s the great thing about me loving you. I’ll always let you back up again,” Jack replied. “It’d be pretty hypocritical of me if I didn’t. ‘Cause I know you’ll do the same for me. You always have.”
Robby laughed incredulously. Then he wrapped his arms around Jack, like a friend would; which made sense, because they were friends. “You’re crazy. You’re crazy, brother,” he said.
“Just promise me,” he stressed in Robby’s ear, fingers curling into the curve of his back. “You’ll try.”
Robby turned his head closer, the line of his nose brushing against Jack’s cheek as he nodded in assent. “I’ll try,” he breathed over Jack’s lips. The tear that streaked and fell down Robby’s face moved quickly. When Jack kissed him he tasted salt water.
“Come on,” he breathed finally, tugging on Robby’s elbow. “Time to go.”
They stepped back, wiping their eyes and sniffling. Though Robby walked with him freely Jack didn’t unwrap his hand from his elbow. As they crossed the roof the automatic lights turned on, heralding the start of the night.
“Oh, who’s running the night shift—” Robby began to fret quietly while they waited for the elevator, making Jack chuckle.
“Shen is in,” he said, confident his phone would have rung off the hook if the man was unavailable. “I’m beat anyway,” he confessed. Jack hated to admit to it but it seemed to reassure Robby.
A small ding interrupted their joint stupor, and they shuffled into the elevator. The doors shut and with a hum they began to descend. Jack looked up at Robby.
“Talk to me,” he said.
Robby looked down at Jack. “God, fuck you, man. Never a quiet moment. I love you. You’re impossible to deal with.”
Jack beamed. “So my therapist tells me.”
Robby sighed, shaking his head. “I love you. I couldn’t say it earlier. I was able to say all the other parts, to Dana and Langdon and I left a message to Jake, but—not that. Not to you.”
“I know,” Jack murmured.
“I wasn’t just going to say ‘Bye’. I wrote a letter,” Robby admitted. “I said it in the letter.”
“You better have. I would have been offended if I didn’t make the footnotes, at least,” he joked, then sobered slightly. “I don’t want to read it, though. If you have something you want to say, you can say it to my face.”
Robby shrugged. “I love you. I just love you,” he said. “I love you so much it made me want to die to spare you. Now I love you so much it makes me want to live.” He choked on a sob and wiped his eyes. “Fuck. Oh, fuck. I want to live,” he croaked, and then let out a measured breath to keep from crying again.
Jack’s grin grew slowly. He pressed a kiss to the well-worn lines of Robby’s hand. “Now you’re getting it.”
The elevator shuddered to a halt. Jack looped them around and took the exit through triage and reception, the shortest path outdoors. Robby for the most part held his hand over his eyes, hiding their redness. When they walked back out into fresh air, he parked Robby on the sidewalk. “Stay,” he ordered.
Robby crossed an ‘X’ over his heart and clasped his hands together. “You wound me.”
Jack snorted. “Yeah, and you raise my blood pressure.” He turned and headed back inside to retrieve his backpack.
Walking through Central, he avoided glances from the night crew, who must have assumed he’d already left. When he arrived at his locker, however, Al-Hashimi was there standing in front of her own, eyes closed and taking measured breaths in and out. “Hey, boss,” he greeted quietly.
She turned, seeming slightly frazzled and yet dulled by the late hour. “Dr. Abbot,” she replied with a muted smile.
Jack felt overcome with a sudden fondness, seeing how tired she was. “Thank you for what you’re doing. The Pitt is gonna fight you like hell every time you try to make it better, but none of us would keep coming back if we thought it’d never work.” She nodded, but pursed her lips.
“And Dr. Robby?” she asked. “Is he going to keep coming back?”
A small twist came over Jack’s mouth, and he looked away to unlock his locker and fish out his bag and jacket. “I don’t know,” he said as he closed it again. “But you’re helping me help him figure it out. So thank you,” he reiterated.
She smiled at that, small but genuine. “You’re welcome,” Al-Hashimi said finally, and Jack was compelled on the basis of her simplicity alone to fast-track her on his list of people he trusted in the Pitt.
“Go home, boss,” he replied, and with a lazy salute of the index finger he turned and walked out the exit at the end of the hall. The sun had set and it was dark, now; fireworks would be coming any minute. Though his hackles raised he was soothed by the sudden coolness of the evening.
His panic then kicked up again at the thought that perhaps he should not have left Robby alone. Jack was just a bit further down the block from where he had told him to wait. All of a sudden he was walking rather quickly, impatient to see—just to make sure—
And there the long shadow of Robby was, of course, standing by the reception exit precisely where Jack had put him. The shape of his face turned to look as Jack approached.
“You thought I ditched, huh?” Robby asked.
“Not really,” he said. “Just terrified of the possibility. You’re not out of the woods yet, man, not until you get professional help.” Robby grimaced. “But that’s a project for tomorrow. For now I’m driving you home.”
“Home?”
“My home,” Jack said, lacing his fingers through Robby’s.
They started ambling along. “What about my motorcycle?” Robby asked.
“Tomorrow,” he answered.
“What about getting my house key back from Whitaker?” Robby asked.
“Tomorrow,” he answered.
“What about kissing me again?” Robby asked.
“Tomorrow,” he answered. “Or tonight. But wouldn’t you rather sleep?”
Robby was quiet for a moment. Finally, he said, “Yes. Just—stay with me.”
Jack quirked a small grin. Then he nodded. They walked off into the night. ✷