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It started with the name.
Every time Dr. Robinavitch was called across the floor, Whitaker's head snapped up.
Dana found it a little odd, the first few times she noticed it.
She had thought Whitaker was doing it out of panic, worried that it meant Robby was nearby, looking over his shoulder, ready to pounce at a single piece of misinformed advice.
But Whitaker was a senior resident now. He had been skittish and jumpy those first few weeks of his emergency medicine rotation, but he had come back for his residency with a quiet, easy confidence. His instincts had only sharpened over time, and he no longer second-guessed any of his orders or diagnoses.
But there was something reflexive about the way he answered to anyone calling for Robinavitch. He wouldn't even realize he was doing it, looking up in response and then quickly returning to whatever he was doing when he realized, the tips of his ears going pink.
It wasn't out of fear. It was embarrassment.
Maybe it was the crush, Dana mused to herself. She had long noticed it, suspected it started back when he was a medical student who went through multiple pairs of scrubs a shift. Whitaker wasn't exactly subtle. The blush he sported high on his cheeks every time Robby walked into a room had subsided after a few months, but the soft, dopey smile that twisted his lips every time he spoke to him remained.
Robby certainly didn't help matters; he touched the boy so much it was a wonder he hadn't already burst into flames. The touches hadn't exactly lessened over the years, but Whitaker seemed to expect them now, leaned into them.
Maybe the kid thought about Robby so much that even the mention of his name had him unconsciously thinking it was meant for him.
Dana liked to think she knew Robby pretty well after all these years, but who was she kidding, he was still a fucking enigma. She couldn't imagine how Robby would react to this new development, but she certainly didn't expect this.
Robby and Whitaker had been standing in front of the board when one of the med students walked up to them and said, "Dr. Robinavitch?"
Both of them had turned to her and said, "Yes?"
The poor thing was so frazzled she hadn't even noticed, immediately launching into the symptoms of her nausea patient. But Dana noticed. She saw the way Whitaker turned a bright red next to Robby, chewing on the inside of his cheek in mortification.
As Robby followed her towards South 15, he raised his brows at Whitaker, who shrugged his shoulders exasperatedly. Robby's answering smile was amused. Fond, even.
Dana, who had been standing a few feet away from them, tilted her head thoughtfully. Huh.
And then there was the ring.
Aside from the chain around his neck, Robby had never been one for jewelry. The closed piercing on one of his earlobes was a particular favorite piece of gossip in the ED, but he had never worn anything else. No other piercings. No bracelets.
But one day, he came in with a ring.
To his credit, nobody even realized he was wearing it until halfway through the shift when he called for a briefing on an incoming trauma. He had been absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck when Javadi interrupted him.
"Are you wearing a wedding ring?"
Javadi shut her mouth with an audible click, her eyes wide in horror. But the damage was done. Everyone's gaze narrowed on the gold band on Robby's left ring finger.
"I don't see how that is any of your business, Dr. Javadi," Robby said slowly, "but yes, I am. Now, as I was saying, we've –"
"Hang on, hang on," Dana interrupted, her expression a mixture of surprise and delight. Dana prided herself on knowing everything about the ED. She didn't understand how she could have ever missed this. "You got married? How did I not hear about this?"
Robby gave her a look. "I don't see the point of talking about my personal life when a patient's coding right in front of me."
"I didn't even know you were dating anybody. Who are you married to?"
"To my husband," Robby replied simply. He raised a hand at the sudden onslaught of noise. "Last I checked, this was an emergency department, not Love Is Blind. Can we stop wasting time and start prepping for the trauma coming in?"
"Love Is Blind?" Dana murmured incredulously, bumping her shoulder against Robby's when the others began to disperse. "How young is he?"
"Dana..." he said warningly.
She held her hands up in surrender. "I'm not judging. Hey, I'm happy for you. I mean it."
She held his gaze and saw him visibly deflate, his shoulders hunching. He nodded. "Thanks," he said lowly.
"When did you even have time to get married?"
"We did it about a month ago. City hall. Just got the rings resized."
"You sneaky bastard." Dana grinned. "So, when do I get to meet him?"
Robby let out a sharp, surprised bark of laughter, but before he could answer, Whitaker called for him from the ambulance doors, and he jogged over.
It all came to a head at the accident.
A patient had come in with a gunshot wound in his shoulder, going in and out of consciousness as they worked on him. One minute they were slicing into his skin; the next he had climbed halfway out of the bed, thrashing wildly. Robby managed to keep him from completely falling off, and he made a valiant effort to struggle out of Robby's firm hold before they were finally able to restrain him to the bed.
"Dr. Robby," Santos said suddenly, her voice strangled. Her eyes were wide as she stared at his neck.
He looked down. There was an angry, jagged line running down his neck to his collarbone, where the end of a scalpel was lodged firmly in place.
He staggered back.
"Fuck," Langdon hissed, rushing over to his side. They laid him carefully on the ground. "Fuck, fuck. Robby! Santos, McKay, work on Johnson. We need a bed; what's open?"
"Don't," Robby started with a grunt before abruptly cutting himself off. "Call... my husband."
"You want us to call your husband?" Mel asked, fiddling with a fresh IV kit. "Pushing NS. Pulse is tachy."
Robby shook his head, hard, before he stopped with a grimace. "Don't," he said, eyes squeezed shut in pain. "Don't... call him. He's... sleeping."
"Stop talking, Robby," Langdon barked. "Prep for intubation."
Robby's eyes flashed with panic. "No –"
"This isn't up for negotiation, I will not have you dying here on the floor before we even get you to OR."
Robby took a moment to swallow, the movement painful, before he said, his voice firm if hoarse, "Do not fucking knock me out, Frank."
Langdon stared at him for a beat. "Jesus. Jesus, Robby, fine. But the second your oxygen levels drop, we're intubating. Where the fuck is the stretcher?"
Jesse rushed out of the room, almost colliding into Dana in his haste. "What's open?"
"Trauma Two just cleared out. What happened?"
"Patient took a scalpel and stabbed Robby in the neck down to his clavicle."
Dana's heart lurched. "Jesus Christ."
Dana took long, unsteady strides towards the Hub as Jesse hurried off in the other direction. Not even a few minutes later, they wheeled Robby out onto the floor and into Two. There was blood – Robby's blood, Christ – all over him, the gloves, the medical gowns. Everybody on the floor fell quiet, the air thick with tension.
It wasn't even noon yet.
Perlah rushed out after them, calling out over her shoulder, "Has his emergency contact been notified?"
"Pulling up his information now," Dana responded tightly, fingertips flying across the keyboard. She pulled up Robby's emergency contact, hand already gripping her work phone. Dennis Whitaker-Robinavitch, 87 –
Her eyes skittered back towards the name. She must have misread. Dana stared at the screen, her eyebrows raised to her hairline. Dennis Whitaker-Robinavitch. She hadn't read it wrong. That's what it had said.
She gingerly pressed the numbers into the phone, her eyes lingering on Whitaker-Robinavitch. The phone rang for a long time before eventually going to voicemail.
Whitaker had been stuck on the night shift for the past three days and had just gotten off of a double; he had only gone home at eight earlier this morning after one of his patients suddenly started seizing. He was probably still asleep.
Still, Dana pressed call, her heart in her throat.
Just as she was sure it'd be sent to voicemail again, it picked up.
"Hello?" And that was Whitaker alright, his voice low and groggy with sleep.
"Whitaker," Dana said uncertainly, and for the first time in years the word felt foreign in her mouth. "It's Dana. You need to get to the hospital, kid."
"Is there an MCI?" There was the sound of rustling; he sounded more alert now.
"No, it's..." Dana hesitated. "It's Robby. A patient attacked him. Scalpel to his clavicle. They're working on him right now in Two." Then, gently, "You're his emergency contact."
The other line went so quiet Dana was half-afraid the line had cut off. After a moment, Whitaker said, "I'll be there in ten."
Whitaker slipped out of Dana's grasp and into Trauma Two five minutes later with his hair still mussed from sleep and his sweatshirt a few sizes too big on him. He stepped towards the bed, stopping abruptly at Robby's waist. His hands twitched at his sides.
On the bed, Robby was fighting to stay conscious. When his gaze landed on Whitaker, he closed his eyes briefly. "You're... not s'posed to be... here."
"They called me."
"I told... them not to."
"Don't be stupid."
Langdon met Jesse and Perlah's eyes from over their heads, connecting the dots in a split second. They weren't able to do much else before Robby suddenly coughed up blood and the heart monitor started to wail.
"Tachy to 120, his sats are down to 90%," Jesse said.
"Fuck fuck fuck. Robby, you fucking asshole. Whitaker, can we intubate?"
"What?" Whitaker's face was blank, unreadable. He was staring at the blood dripping from Robby's chin.
"He was refusing intubation earlier. Can we intubate?"
Whitaker blinked rapidly, as if clearing his head. "Yeah. Yes, of course."
Robby's eyes were wide. "N–no –"
"Robby, shut up. Go ahead with the intubation."
"Great. Mel, set up the GlideScope. Push a hundred of ketamine and get a high-flow nasal cannula."
Whitaker stepped forward immediately, his expression still carefully blank, looking as though his mind hadn't fully caught up with his body yet. He moved towards the crash cart before being gently but firmly pushed to the side by Mel.
"I can –" Whitaker started.
"C'mon, kid, let's go outside." Abbot suddenly materialized next to him with a gentle hand on his elbow, ushering him towards the door.
Whitaker turned back towards Robby, shaking his head. "But I can help –"
"Dennis, you can either be his doctor or his partner. You can't be both."
"I can be his doctor." He was still staring at Robby's face.
"No, kid. You can't." With a firmer grip, Abbot steered him away from Robby and out the doors.
Abbot parked him at one of the work stations and tried to force him to sit, but Whitaker shrugged out of his hold. He was wringing his hands, starting to hyperventilate now.
"Dennis, you should sit down –"
"What happened, exactly?" Whitaker interrupted. The shock seemed to have finally worn off. His limbs were jittery, and his eyes were bright and just on the edge of manic.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"I can handle it, Jack," he said sharply. "Just give me the facts."
Abbot sighed heavily, running a hand down the side of his face. "I only got here after you did, so I wasn't there either. But from what I heard from Dr. Santos, Robby was restraining a GSW patient when the patient took a scalpel from the midline of the anterior neck to the right clavicle."
Whitaker nodded once, twice, then three times, the movement jerky. "Okay. Okay, so that's... what, possible pneumothorax, hemothorax, expanding hematoma, maybe an air embolism? Where's surgery?"
"Garcia's in there now."
"He needs to go to the OR."
"They're prepping him for transfer right now. You need to sit down." Abbot's tone was gentle, careful.
"He needs to go to the OR," Whitaker repeated. "I could help with the transfer. I could – he needs –"
He stepped forward suddenly, but his steps halted when Perlah slipped out of Two. She went up to him, her eyes kind and downturned, and pressed a piece of cold metal into his palm.
Whitaker stared at it. At the edge of an inscription he knew as well as his own name. At the red enveloping it almost in its entirety, dried and flaky.
All at once, he deflated, his body hunching in on himself, looking like the wind had been knocked completely out of him. Everyone watched as he reached inside his shirt and fished out his chain. He fiddled with the clasp with trembling fingers and slipped the ring on. It clicked against his cross and a matching ring.
"You bastard. Did you know?"
The few minutes before they took Robby up to the OR were among the most uncomfortable Dana had ever experienced. She hadn't known what to say to him, and it seemed no one else did either. Not that it would've helped. Whitaker kept staring into space, silent, the bags under his eyes sunken and more pronounced than they had been in years.
When they finally wheeled Robby out towards the elevator, they had had to physically restrain Whitaker from helping, only letting him up after they had successfully made the transfer. Santos followed close behind to make sure he wouldn't scrub himself in.
Dana sidled up next to Abbot from where he was leaning on one of the workstations, his eyes staring unseeingly at a now empty Two. Abbot would have been this close to scrubbing in for surgery himself if Dana hadn't dragged him to the Hub with a firm shake of her head and a "Don't even think about it."
"Know what?"
"Don't play dumb with me, you're not cute enough for it."
"You think I'm cute?" Abbot said, one corner of his lip pulling up. At Dana's expression, he sighed. "Yeah. I knew."
"For how long?"
"How long have I known, or how long have they been together?"
"Both."
Abbot rubbed his face. "I found out a little bit before he started his residency. Robby never told me, but I'm pretty sure they started seeing each other about halfway through his rotation."
Dana gaped at him. "Since his rotation? His med school rotation? You're telling me they've been dating for four years?"
"More like three and a half." At the look on Dana's face, Abbot shrugged. "They got married a few months ago. I was their witness."
"Jesus. Jesus." Dana pressed her knuckles into her eyes. "Nobody else knew?"
"Santos knows. She was the other witness. The people upstairs know, too. It was unavoidable since they had to do all the paperwork for it. I don't know who else – they wanted to keep it private."
"Too private," Dana said, her head spinning. "And now everyone's gonna know. Hell, I'd be surprised if the entire hospital didn't know by now."
When Robby woke up in his hospital room twelve hours after surgery, Dana was standing at the foot of his bed. She looked up from where she was reading his chart to him blinking awake, groaning.
"Hey, welcome back. How's the throat?"
"Fine," Robby said in a rasp. "What are you doing here?"
"Babysitting."
Robby let out a scoff.
She took a deliberate pause. "Your husband went out to get coffee."
Robby's face went slack with surprise before he remembered. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't start."
Dana ignored him. "When were you going to tell us you were married to Whitaker?"
"Sometime between never and never ever."
She swatted at his feet.
"Hey, come on, I just got stabbed."
"Last I checked, he didn't get your feet."
Just then, Whitaker shouldered his way into the room, holding two cups of coffee. He almost dropped them when he saw Robby. "You're awake!"
Dana glanced at the heart monitor Robby was hooked on to, her mouth twisting up into a wry smile. "Unbelievable," she murmured.
"How are you feeling?" Whitaker said, putting the paper cups on a side table before placing gentle hands on Robby's face. Robby leaned into his touch, the corners of his lips twitching up involuntarily.
"I'm fine," he said. There was so much affection in his voice that Dana had to blink a few times from how suddenly tears formed in her eyes, unbidden.
"You shouldn't talk; your trachea's probably still sore," Whitaker chided him.
Robby rolled his eyes. "How was I supposed to answer you then? Baby, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
"What a stupid thing to say. I always worry about you. You really scared me, Robby."
Robby's eyes softened. "I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your fault." Whitaker pressed his lips to his temple, then pulled away with a frown. "Though, I do remember Langdon saying you were refusing intubation? And that you didn't want them to call me?"
"You were sleeping off three night shifts and a double. You needed the sleep."
"And you almost died." Whitaker ducked his head so that Robby met his eyes. He pressed a pointer finger against Robby's chest. "Till death do us part, remember? The only thing that's allowed to keep you from me is death, and even then, I'll find a way. You don't get to almost die and then decide whether or not I should be there. I will always want to be there. Okay?"
"Okay," Robby said softly. His eyes were flitting over every inch of Whitaker's face, his gaze tender and adoring. It looked less like he was committing him to memory and more like he was reminding himself of something intimately familiar to him, something he almost lost.
"Good. You look cold. Are you cold?"
"I'm fine, Dennis."
"I'm gonna go get an extra blanket," Whitaker said decisively.
"You really don't –"
"I'll be right back." Whitaker hesitated for a brief moment. Then, he leaned down to press a featherlight kiss on Robby's lips before he slipped out of the room.
They watched the closed door for a moment before Dana turned to Robby with a shit-eating grin. "You know your heart skipped a beat when you saw him?"
Robby groaned. "Jesus."
"You goddamn romantic."
"Shut up."
"He's good to you," Dana said with a soft smile. "Likes fussing over you. God knows you need it."
"He is," Robby said quietly. "Good to me."
"I'm glad."
Whitaker stepped back into the room, his arms now laden with two different blankets. Robby's heart monitor beeped arrhythmically again, and Dana saw the moment Robby noticed it, too. His cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, which Whitaker took to mean he was freezing.
He plied Robby with more blankets, muttering under his breath. Robby looked on with an expression he probably intended to be long-suffering but ended up looking more fond.
"I gotta get back down," Dana said. "Promise me you'll cooperate with the doctors and nurses here?"
"When do I not?" Robby said archly.
Dana gave him a look. She turned to Whitaker. "You'll take good care of him, won't you?"
"I will," Whitaker said, his eyes bright.
Dana left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She could hear them murmuring lowly on the other side and she felt the corners of her lips turn upwards. She took the elevator back down to the ED. She didn't need to worry. Robby was in good hands.