Chapter Text
Robby’s phone buzzed against his leg again. It was about the fifth time that hour, and once again he ignored it in favor of tending to the patient in front of him. It wasn’t that he didn’t intend to call them back, but anyone who knew him would know that he wouldn’t be very reachable while he was on duty. It would have to wait until the team stopped needing his immediate attention in twelve different places.
So, you know, probably not until the apocalypse rolled around.
“I’m looking for a Michael Robinavitch, is he around?”
Robby snapped his attention away from Santos, who was presenting her current case, and saw a pair of cops standing at the hub with Collins, their backs to Robby. Collins made eye contact with him over the shorter cop’s shoulder, asking a silent question.
“What’d you do, kill someone recently?” Santos whispered, with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
Robby glanced back at Santos. Then shot a nod at Collins. “You’ll want an EKG too, let me know once you’ve got those test results.”
Santos nodded, but Robby felt her hovering to watch as he took two steps towards the hub. He turned and shot an expectant look over his shoulder. Santos rolled her eyes, but departed. These students and interns were going to be the death of him; Robby was sure he’d never in his life been that young.
“What can I do for you, officers?” He asked, circling around to land at Collins’s side.
“Michael Robinavitch?” The shorter one asked. She was young, and wore blue eyeshadow, something which made Robby’s mind briefly drop down a rabbit hole of wondering whether there were uniform regulations on makeup pallets.
He drew his mind back to focus. “That’s me.”
The officers exchanged a glance. The older woman gave an encouraging bob of her chin. Robby knew that nod. He couldn’t count how many times he’d given it to a nervous student over the years, giving them the much needed, ‘yes, you’re doing it right, keep going.’ Robby didn’t usually love police in his ER, but this was endearing.
The young, pint-sized officer refocused on Robby. “Is there somewhere we could talk, privately?”
The fuzzy endearment disappeared in favor of a sharp stab of fear. In his many years of experience, he’d never asked someone to talk privately with that tone to deliver good news.
Robby nodded sharply. “Sure, break room’s this way.”
When he met Collins’s eyes and saw his thoughts reflected back at him. The name he’d been trying not to think forced its way to the surface of his mind.
Jake.
He pushed the thought down—deep, deep down—and led the cops to the break room. Javadi and Mateo were in there when Robby pushed open the door, but both scrambled to leave when they saw his expression. Or maybe it was the two police officers trailing behind him. Either way, they surrendered the space, and Robby turned to face the officers.
“So, what’s this about?”
The younger woman hesitated again, but pulled herself together quickly. “Um, well, I’m Officer Wilson, this is Officer Anders.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Robby responded, tightly.
He could practically hear himself giving the student feedback. You’re about to give someone the worst news of their life, and part of them knows it. Don’t beat around the bush, it doesn’t do them any favors. Be direct.
Apparently, Officer Anders agreed, because she cleared her throat, ever so slightly.
However far down Robby tried to shove the thought, it bobbed back up to the surface.
Jake.
Jake.
Jake.
Officer Wilson gathered herself again. “You’re listed as the emergency contact for a John Abbot, is that correct?”
The relief of not hearing Jake’s name was short lived as Robby processed what she'd said. Jack? Since when was he Jack’s emergency contact? And more importantly: oh dear God, what happened?
“Uh, yes. Yeah, I suppose I probably am.” Robby was surprised to hear his own voice come out so steady. But then, he’d seen this in countless patients and family members before. The shock of the event overriding the actual emotional reaction. “What…what happened?”
“At 8:24 this morning, the body of a white male in his fifties was recovered from the light rail blue line, at the Washington Junction stop.”
A dull ringing noise filled the room. Something wrapped around Robby’s ribs with all the force of a boa constrictor. Officer Wilson continued speaking as if nothing was happening, as if the room weren’t crashing down around them.
“Based on the documents found in his wallet, we believe it to be the body of John Abbot. We’re very sorry for your loss.”
“No.” Denial. Robby could recite the stages of grief like a prayer. But this? No, it simply wasn’t true. He’d seen Jack, what, an hour and a half before 8:24? Jack, who’d joked about…something. What was it? Hawkeye, that was it. Jack had called Robby ‘Hawkeye.’ And then he’d left, saying he’d see him tonight. Jack had said that, he’d said that he’d see Robby tonight. That wasn’t…that just wouldn’t make sense. “No, he, uh…he’s back on duty in a couple hours, he’ll be coming in for his shift.”
It was such an inane thing to say. Exactly the sort of thing he’d find heartrendingly innocent in the family of a patient, when delivering the bad news. Not rational. Not real. But this had to be real, Jack had to be coming in for his shift. Handover was in two hours.
Officer Anders stepped in. Apparently, the student needed some support. Which is exactly the sort of thought that was not relevant right now. Nothing was relevant right now. “We’d like you to come down to the station with us to identify the body.”
“No, listen, I have to stay here until Jack—Dr Abbot—comes in to take over, he’s the night shift attending, I can’t leave until he gets here. In a couple hours, I’ll come look at whatever bodies you want.”
Anders was looking at him with a soft compassion that made Robby want to shake her. What about this didn’t she understand? Jack was on duty tonight, so he was probably still asleep now, Robby couldn’t exactly call him in early just to go running off to look at some stranger’s—the blue line.
They found the body on the blue line.
Robby suddenly remembered the breeze on the roof. What was it he’d said to Jack?
Jumping on my shift, well, that’s just rude, man.
What would be the next best thing to the roof? If jumping on someone else’s shift wasn’t an option?
Wilson was staring at him with damp eyes. She was too compassionate to be a cop. But then, Robby had thought that about students before who’d ended up finding a steel within themselves and becoming excellent doctors.
“Is there anyone we can call for you? To be with you right now?”
Robby was pretty sure that was his line. He shook his head, pulling out his phone and dialing Jack’s number from memory. He’d just have to wake him up, then, if that was the only way to prove once and for all that he was—the number was unavailable. Jack’s number was never unavailable. Robby must have dialed it wrong, he tried again, the two police officers watching him in silence.
“The number you are trying to reach is currently—”
Robby dropped his phone on the break room table. Breathe. Just breathe. He needed to keep it together, he was still on duty for fuck’s sake, he had to keep it together until—until what? Until the night shift rolled in, minus their attending? Then what?
Robby took another breath. He needed to focus on practical matters, everything else had to wait.
“I need to call in Shen, I need—” Robby’s voice gave out, briefly, but he got it back again. Adrenaline was a beautiful drug. “Okay, do you mind waiting for a while? I can’t leave the ER without an attending, so I need to call Shen in on his day off.”
Anders nodded. “Of course, let us know when you’re ready to go.”
Robby grabbed his phone again and fled the room. The droning sound was still echoing in his ears. Someone should call maintenance for that; it might be an electrical issue.
Robby found Collins still at the hub. She looked him over with a terrible concern. “What—”
“Where’s D—” Dana quit. Fuck, Dana wasn’t here. That made things even fucking worse. “Where’s what’s-his-name? Charge nurse?”
“Beck. He’s in the bathroom,” Collins supplied. “What’s wrong? It’s not Jake?”
“Jake’s fine, probably, I don’t know, he’s still not talking to me.” Not the point. Not relevant. Stick to solving one problem at a time. “Beck needs to call Shen in for tonight, there’s—” There’s what? What on Earth was he supposed to say about this thing that couldn’t possibly be happening? “There’s a possibility Abbot won’t be coming in tonight, and I need to leave early.”
“What’s going on?” Collins looked at him with growing fear in her dark eyes.
“Nothing, probably,” Robby couldn’t even tell if he was lying at this point. “I just need to go, um, make sure. Make sure it’s nothing.”
“You’re scaring me.”
That was the opposite of what he was trying to do. He was trying to keep this under wraps, need-to-know. Everyone else had to believe everything was fine. Because it was. Probably.
Collins was touching him now. When had she grabbed his arm? “Robby? What’s going on?”
Anyone else, he probably could’ve come up with a decent enough phrase to brush off their concern, but it had to be Collins.
His voice cracked when he said, “They want me to identify a body. They’re probably wrong, but they think its Jack.”
Collins clearly couldn’t come up with a response for that. It was a relief, to be honest. Robby wasn’t sure he could have found his voice again, it seemed to have run away on him. Beck reappeared at the hub and Collins turned to him quickly. Robby had no idea what she said to Beck, he was busy staring at the floor and trying to push down a wave of nausea. Whatever it was, it must have conveyed the urgency, because Beck leapt into action, grabbing the nearest phone. Robby should stop holding it against the poor guy that he wasn’t Dana. Beck was good. It wasn’t his fault he was trying to fill the shoes of an angel with a crippling nicotine addiction and the vocabulary of a drunk sailor.
Collins turned back to Robby. “I’m going with you.”
Robby shook his head. “No, no if I’m leaving early, they’ll need you here.”
“You can’t go alone.” Her hand was on Robby’s arm again. Why she was treating him like he was made of glass right now, he’d never know. She knew Jack too. She had every reason to be just as fucked-up about it as he was. “Not like this. There’s gotta be someone you can call.”
“I’m fine,” Robby argued, slipping away from her hand and trying not to think about the fact that he’d already tried calling that person.
“What about Dana?”
Robby looked up from the floor. That actually wasn’t a bad idea. Besides, Dana had known Jack for as long as Robby had. There was no good reason it should be Robby, and not her, on that stupid emergency contact form.
“You want me to call her?” Collins asked, seizing upon the fact that Robby hadn’t dismissed the idea.
“No, I will. I will.” Robby took out his phone, hands fumbling slightly. No new missed calls. No texts. Despite what he’d said to Collins, Robby dialed Jack’s number again. Collins moved away to confer with Beck, or perhaps to give Robby a bit of privacy.
“The number you are trying to reach—”
Robby hung up immediately and called Dana. She picked up on the third ring.
“If you’re calling to beg me to come back, the answer’s still no.”
Her voice, sounding so very normal, loosened the pressure around his ribs ever so slightly.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied.
“In that case, what can I do for you, Robby?”
“I need your help.” Admitting it felt like taking a rib spreader to his own chest.
She sighed. “Have you tried asking Beck? Kid knows his stuff.”
“It’s not about the job.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line as Dana processed. Then she said, “Where do I meet you?”
Collins reappeared beside Robby, pressing a hand to his back. “Shen will be here in half an hour. We can manage until then.”
“I’ll stay until—”
Beck chimed in. “You haven’t taken lunch yet. Consider this lunch.”
Robby looked at Collins. “How much did you tell him?”
“Not much,” Collins said, “He’s just that good. Go.”
“Robby?” Dana’s voice brought him back to the phone call.
“Right, yeah, I’ll text you the location. Thank you.”
“Yeah, of course,” She said, a hint of concern in her tone, “Always.”
Robby hung up on her, unable to formulate a response that wouldn’t worry her further. He looked back up to Collins and Beck. “Okay. Okay, you’re sure?”
“We’re sure,” Collins said. “Get out of here. And call me when you know anything.”
Robby moved on instinct, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug before he could think better of it. He pulled away just as fast. She smiled sadly at him. “Go.”
“Thank you,” He told her, “Beck, thank you, call me if Shen has any issues.”
Beck gave him a casual two-fingered salute. Collins just watched as Robby charged over to the locker room. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. Whitaker moved into his line of sight, clearly coming in with a question. Robby shook his head sharply, turning to point the boy towards Collins. He didn’t trust his voice to speak. Thankfully, Whitaker seemed to get the idea, and he made his way over to Collins instead.
Robby retrieved his bag with unsteady hands, not able to stop his eyes from finding Abbot’s locker. Not able to keep from wondering if he’d be the one who would have to clean it out.
No.
Jack Abbot was not dead, Robby just needed to go prove that, and then everything would be fine. Probably Shen and Jack would have a good time razzing him for his overreaction. Robby tried Jack’s phone again. Unavailable. Whenever he got his hands on Jack, he’d strangle him for deactivating his phone.
Robby returned to the break room. Wilson and Anders fell silent as he entered, clearly assessing his emotional state.
“What’s the address?” He asked them, “I have a friend meeting us there.”
Robby sent the address off to Dana, then held the door open for the two cops.
“Let’s go.”
The police station looked exactly how Robby expected a Pittsburgh police station to look: aggravatingly better funded than the hospitals. His annoyance at the system was almost enough to distract him for a brief moment.
Almost.
“Hey! What the actual fuck is going on?”
Dana. Wonderful Dana. Dana would make this all make some fucking sense. She looked different. No longer the charge nurse, she wore a loose, sleeveless top, tight jeans, and ankle boots. It was a good look. Chic.
Unfortunately, she was also sending death glares at Wilson and Anders.
“Come on, what is it? I need to call you a lawyer or somethin’?”
“No.” Robby had spent the entire drive in silence, so now was surprised by the hoarseness of his voice. He sounded awful. Probably looked it too, judging from the gentle way Dana reached up to cup his face. “No, it’s probably nothing.” Robby had been saying that a lot. He really wished he could keep believing it. “They just want me to take a look at—” He couldn’t say it. “At something.”
“The morgue is this way,” Officer Wilson helpfully supplied.
“Morgue?” Dana asked, “The fuck is she talking about, morgue?”
Robby cleared his throat, trying and failing to make it not sound like he’d recently been intubated. “Apparently, there’s a body that they want me to look at. Turns out I’m Abbot’s emergency contact.”
“Abbot? But then—” The realization dawned over Dana’s faced. “No.”
“I’m sure it’s not him,” Robby said, and saw Wilson shift with discomfort out of the corner of his eye. She thought he was still in denial, but she was new, she didn't know about these things. It couldn't be denial, because Jack wasn't dead. “It can’t—he was supposed to be on in an hour.” Another thing Robby needed to stop saying. Especially now, since Collins had just texted him to confirm Shen’s arrival. No, fuck that. Jack Abbot better fucking roll up to his shift with a good explanation for why is phone was off, or Robby would go fucking nuclear on his ass.
He’d tried calling twice more on the way here. Jack’s phone was well and truly unavailable.
Dana took Robby’s hand and squeezed it. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s Jack Fucking Abbot, he’ll show up for his shift come hell or high water.”
“He fucking better,” Robby replied, not able to summon the righteous anger that he so badly wanted to, “Or I’ll kill him myself.”
Dana didn’t leave his side as they followed Wilson and Anders to the morgue. The cops were either kind enough not to mention it or too afraid of Dana’s glare to suggest she wait outside. Dana kept a hold of Robby’s hand. It made him feel like a child, clinging to someone’s hand for support, but Robby couldn’t find it in himself to pull away.
She squeezed his hand again when they stepped into the cold air of the morgue.
Morgues all looked the same, really. They were a lot like cadavers that way. Once something was dead, it lost its individuality and became an object. Still and cold and devoid of personality. This particular body was covered with a thin sheet. It was a familiar sight, but never one Robby enjoyed seeing.
Anders spoke up from where she positioned herself on the other side of the gurney. “Its not pretty. His face was severely disfigured from the impact, so we’re looking for any identifying features, birthmarks, scars, that sort of thing.”
Robby barely registered the instructions. He was staring at the body, praying silently.
“Are you ready?”
No, Robby wasn’t fucking ready. Of course he wasn’t. But he needed her to do it now, and do it fast, or he feared he might fall apart completely. Whatever electrical problem the Pitt had, they must have here too, because that ringing was only gaining volume in his ears. It took Dana nudging him with her elbow for Robby to finally speak.
“Yes.”
Anders had not been exaggerating. The face of the body before him was beyond recognition. But the back of the head was covered with familiar steel-grey curls.
The ringing fell silent. Everything was quiet.
Robby wanted to scream, but his mouth wouldn’t move, and even if it could there wasn’t any oxygen in his lungs.
He wanted to beat that corpse.
How fucking dare you, Jack Abbot.
After having the audacity to bring Robby back from the edge. After making Robby his fucking emergency contact, knowing he’d be the one they called. After holding Robby tightly at night and daring to tell him that it would be alright.
Nothing about this was alright.
Nothing.
Robby couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.
The wind on his face. The wind on his face on the edge of the roof, looking down at Pittsburgh laid out before him in the dark. Two steps from the edge. It seemed closer now. So easy to take those steps.
The wind.
The lights below him.
The blood on his hands.
Jack’s arms.
Jack’s smirk.
Jack’s laugh.
A voice suddenly snapped Robby out of his stupor.
“Yeah…that ain’t him.”
At some point, Dana had let go of Robby’s hand, and she was now standing at the foot of the gurney, where she’d pulled the sheet back.
Revealing two feet.
Mangled, damaged appendages, not having survived the collision unscathed, but they were both clearly attached to the body. The corpse was not an amputee.
The corpse was not Jack Abbot.