Chapter Text
Robby is two days into his sabbatical and already in bed at a motel for the night when the first text from Dennis comes.
Dennis: Hi Dr. Robby, hope the sabbatical is going well so far :) just wanted to let you know that I stopped by your place and got in just fine. Plants have been watered. No mail yet obviously
Robby: Thanks, Whitaker. Sabbatical is good. How was your weekend at the farm?
That one is a little strategic, if Robby’s being honest. He knows that Dennis was planning on spending the weekend at Amy’s farm, even after Robby spoke to him about boundaries. Robby remembers seeing them driving off into the night together, Dennis looking so happy and relaxed. They’re practically a readymade family. The thought reactivates the gnawing thing that’s been eating at Robby’s stomach since he saw it the other night, but he can’t help but be curious.
Dennis: I actually didn’t spend the weekend at the farm! I was there Friday night and left Saturday morning. How’s the bike holding up post-recovery?
Robby: It’s good. Steady so far. Did something happen?
Dennis is typing…
Dennis stopped typing.
Dennis is typing…
Dennis: It’s a long story but I took your advice and had a talk with Amy. It went well! But I’ll be spending less time at the farm now. Just a normal friend amount.
Robby is typing…
Robby: That’s great. Happy for you. You’ll have to tell me the whole story sometime.
Dennis: What are you doing right now?
Robby is on a sabbatical to get space away from the hospital and the people in it. He doesn’t even know if he’s going to come back. He feels like it’s all just been dragging him down below the surface, like his body is filled with sand and his chest is constantly weighed down by something heavy. He should be completely immersing himself in the sabbatical, and ignoring everyone’s text and calls, which he’s mostly managed to do so far with one notable exception. He definitely shouldn’t be having a personal call with a resident.
Robby calls Dennis.
Dennis picks up on the first ring.
“Ah, hey, Dr. Robby!” Dennis says. He sounds surprised, but happy, too. Something warms in Robby’s chest.
“Whitaker, I’m out of the hospital for the next three months, and you’re watching my house for me. Robby is fine.”
“Ah, okay. That sounds good, Robby. And, uh, you can call me Dennis. If you want. Whitaker is also fine.”
This is so awkward, for both of them. Why is it so awkward? It’s always so easy in the hospital, too easy. Robby constantly has to remind himself that he shouldn’t be so familiar and comfortable with Dennis. He constantly has to hold himself back from reaching out to touch him all the time. But this feels stiff, unlike any of their other conversations, even when they first met. Maybe it’s because it’s over the phone.
“Enough pleasantries, Dennis,” Robby says. “Tell me about what happened with Amy.”
Dennis takes a deep breath. Robby can hear it through the phone, and he imagines Dennis’ chest rising and falling with it.
“I took your advice, not Friday because it was late and she needed help with Theo, but I talked to her on Saturday morning over breakfast. And I basically said that I love spending time at the farm, and that her friendship is really important to me” —Something relaxes in Robby’s chest at this part— “And that I love Theo, but that I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t taking on Teddy’s role in his place. I don’t know. I tried to be more eloquent than that.”
“I’m sure you were great.”
“I hope so. She hadn’t really thought about any of it until I said something, but then she started crying—not because of me, but because she felt like she’d betrayed Teddy by subconsciously trying to replace him with me. And then we talked a lot more, but ultimately, I’m just going to take a little step back in the friendship. And she got that too, because she wants to be a good thing in my life, not a responsibility.”
“That’s great,” Robby says. There’s a pause then like he’s supposed to say more, but he’s trying a little too hard to filter his words right now. Robby is running low on sleep and high on adrenaline, though, so what comes out is: “Sounds like a really amicable breakup.”
Because he’s pretty sure that they weren’t together, but whatever it was, it sounds like it was something. And he’s not sure why, but there’s this nagging part of his brain that insists on knowing what exactly it was, or is.
“Oh, no, it wasn’t a breakup,” Dennis says quickly. “It wasn’t like that at all. I mean, I think it was for her a little, but just because I was stepping up a lot and she had a hard time compartmentalizing. But it wasn’t like that for me in the slightest.”
“Oh,” Robby says, and it comes out softer than he intends. “Any particular reason for that?”
Dennis is quiet for a moment, and Robby wonders if he overstepped.
“I thought you might’ve picked up on it by now,” Dennis says.
Something loud and blaring is going off in Robby’s brain.
“Picked up on what?” Robby says.
“I mean, it’s not a secret,” Dennis rushes out, still not answering the question. “I just haven’t told anyone here yet—or I hadn’t. This weekend, I told Trinity over the phone Friday night while I was at Amy’s—and that obviously went really well, even though she was very drunk from going out with Mel—oh, sorry, I don’t know if it’s okay to tell you that—”
“It’s fine,” Robby says with a little laugh, desperate to hear where this is going.
“And then I was way more worried about telling Amy, just because of everything, but she took it very well. And I actually think it made the other part of the conversation go a lot smoother when she had the added context.”
“What do you mean?” Robby asks quietly.
“I came out to her,” Dennis says.
Robby’s brain short-circuits.
“Came out to her as… wanting boundaries?”
Dennis laughs nervously.
“As gay. And wanting boundaries.”
Robby feels his brain freeze up suddenly, thoughts struggling to string together and form into words. He knows he should say something. What is the normal thing to say here?
“Oh, that’s great!” Robby says.
Dennis exhales.
“It is?”
“Yeah,” Robby says quickly, and shit, what is he even supposed to say? “Authenticity is always a good thing.”
“Yeah,” Dennis says with a laugh that sounds like he’s starting to relax, “It does kind of feel like that here. It was different back home. It always put distance between me and the people I told. But I think that will be different here.”
Robby wants to say a lot of things, starting with Oh, thank fuck you’re not going to marry Amy and have a bunch of kids together, followed up by How long have you known? and then I’m sorry it was like that for you back home. But he feels like he’s teetering on the edge of something very dangerous here, so he tries to keep it as concise as possible.
“Good,” Robby says.
And they talk for a little while longer, longer than Robby had anticipated, and then they hang up after the conversation reaches a natural stopping point. And then Robby turns over to go to sleep for the night, and he tries not to think too much about why this new piece of information is so important to him.
________________
They start talking every day after that—usually by text, but frequently on the phone. The next day, Dennis’ first Monday back at work, Robby shoots him an early morning text, knowing he will already be awake.
Robby: Good morning, Dennis. Was nice talking to you last night. Thanks for telling me that.
Dennis: Morning Robby! Ride safe today. Thank you for last night too.
Dennis is typing…
Dennis stopped typing.
Dennis is typing…
Dennis: It meant a lot to me
Robby: To me as well.
Dennis: :)
Robby: Hey, also, while you’re at the hospital today, can you check on Baby Jane Doe if she’s still there, and keep me posted?
Dennis: yes ofc
Robby’s days on the road blur together. He barely stops, and when he does, it’s mostly at motels for brief bits of rest. He does the bare minimum of sightseeing, and he spends more time on his motorcycle than at his destinations. He can’t stop reliving that last shitty day at work and all of the horrible fucking things he did and said to everyone around him, but in the midst of it, he keeps getting these bright flashes of memories:
Dennis joking around with him.
The overjoyed look on Dennis’ face when Robby asked him to watch his place for him.
That soft and vulnerable look that had appeared in Dennis’ eyes when Robby had said that he trusted him, like it surprised him and meant quite a lot to him, only for Dennis to quickly cover it up with a casual “Great.” Robby had picked up on that defense tactic, because he’d invented that defense tactic.
Robby can’t stop thinking about him, and he can’t stop reaching out to him either. Throughout the week, Dennis fills Robby in on all of the important things: the ER is running smoothly in his absence thanks to Al-Hashimi, Duke has a doctor’s appointment scheduled for later this week, Robby has a few pieces of mail, and his plants don’t need any more watering this soon yet. Oh, and Dennis has been visiting Baby Jane Doe several times a day, whenever he can on shift.
They talk about the unimportant things, too. Dennis wants to hear everything about Robby’s trip, so he tries to make it sound more interesting and less depressing than it is, from the sights, to the food, to being on the motorcycle (the only genuinely enjoyable part of the trip). Dennis doesn’t want to talk about himself that much, but whenever Robby pries, he gets rewarded with slivers of information about Dennis’ days at work, things that made him laugh, and little moments that he’s shared with Baby Jane Doe.
That Thursday night, they’re talking about Baby Jane Doe on the phone when Robby hears something in Dennis’ voice. It sounds like attachment, and sadness too, and Robby can tell that he’s come to care about her as more than just a patient. It almost feels parental. And Robby knows that he shouldn’t push this, but he just can’t help himself.
So Robby says, “Hey, what do you call her? When you talk to her.”
Dennis pauses for a moment, as if debating whether to tell him.
“Um, I have a name that I like to think of as hers, and that I call her.”
Robby feels a wave of fondness for Dennis rush over him.
“What is it?”
“Violet.”
“Like the color?”
“Like The Boxcar Children.”
Robby smiles to himself. Of course Dennis has been visiting the abandoned hospital baby all week, even beyond what Robby asked of him, and of course he’s given her a name, and of course that name is after a children’s book series. It’s all so endearing it hurts his chest a little.
“I loved The Boxcar Children when I was a kid,” Robby says. “I’m surprised you read them, too. A little before your time.”
“My third-grade teacher had them in our class library. I loved them so much. I used to dream of living in the woods with my friends, with no adults around, just like the Boxcar Children did.” And then Dennis slips into a panic, going, “Or wait, that’s not what I mean, because of course they were orphans—”
“I know what you meant, Dennis,” Robby says, gently interrupting him. “I used to dream of it, too. You know, those books were how I learned that you can purify water by boiling it.”
Dennis laughs, surprised and delighted. It’s a beautiful sound.
“Me too,” Dennis says. “You know, I’ve been reading them to her, and she seems to like them. That’s why I call her that.”
Dennis is quiet for a moment, deep in thought, and Robby is pretty sure he can follow the train of it, all these miles away.
“You’re thinking about doing kinship adoption, huh?” Robby says, but it’s not really a question.
“Yeah,” Dennis admits. “I mean, I know it’s not possible for me. I can barely afford to take care of myself, and I still have years left in my residency, and Trinity would kill me if I brought a baby into our apartment to live there. But I just think about her all the time, Robby, and I worry about her all the time, and I don’t know what to do. I feel kind of helpless.”
Robby remembers the baby—Violet, as Dennis has named her. She was so upset that day, and she cried a lot, but there was a brief moment where Robby was holding her that he had considered kinship adoption for a minute, too. She was just so small and alone, and Robby knew what it was like to be that way, and he could easily picture himself stepping up to be there for her. But then he’d shaken the thought and ridden off on his sabbatical.
That didn’t mean it was gone, though, and now here it still is, almost a week later. And while talking to Dennis now, a thought starts to form in Robby’s mind. An impossible, impractical, absolutely unhinged thought. One that he cannot believe he’s about to voice out loud.
“Well, let’s break it down,” Robby says. “The money thing is not an issue, the residency thing is not an issue, and you can take her back to my house instead of the apartment.”
“I thought you said no babies,” Dennis says.
“Just no to the one baby,” Robby says automatically. He worries that that’s too far, until a laugh bursts out of Dennis.
“Point taken,” he says, “Boundaries and all that.” And then he’s quiet for a moment. “That’s really kind of you, Robby, but I still can’t afford to foster her by myself, and I can’t work my shifts and still take care of her. It’s not possible.”
“No, it’s not,” Robby says. And this is the point of no return, the part where he should shut his mouth before he says something that he can’t take back, but instead, Robby adds, “Not without a coparent.”
“Trinity would never,” Dennis says.
Robby laughs.
“I wasn’t talking about Santos,” he says. “I was talking about me.”
And he doesn’t even really know what he’s thinking, or what he’s saying, until he suggests the idea. But suddenly, Robby can see it all so clearly in his head: Dennis taking Violet home from the hospital, the two of them fostering her together, and then eventually finding her a home once there’s one available. It’s simple, really. Robby already has the time off work, and he’s not getting anything out of his sabbatical at this point. Plus, honestly, he feels pulled to help this baby just like Dennis does.
“You’re away for the next three months,” Dennis says. “Or, two months and three weeks, I guess.”
“I’m in Lone Tree, Iowa right now. I’ll turn the motorcycle around right now and be back sometime late tomorrow morning,” Robby says.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes,” Robby says, surprising himself with how sure he feels. About this.
“So what, we would foster her together at your place until they can find a home for her?” Dennis asks uncertainly.
“Yeah, if you want to,” Robby says. “Absolutely no—”
“Yes,” Dennis blurts out.
“Really?”
“Yeah. But don’t drive tonight. Get some sleep, I’ll express my interest at the hospital tomorrow, and then if they give me approval, I’ll text you to come back.”
Robby cannot believe that this is actually happening, and that Dennis has actually agreed to this so quickly. He expects himself to feel panic, but he doesn’t. This feels like the right thing. And anyways, he is still going to be getting time away from the hospital if he ends up fostering Violet with Dennis. At least now he’ll be doing something that feels less aimless.
“Okay,” Robby says. “Keep me updated.”
_________________
The next morning, Robby is on the road already on the way back to Pittsburgh for five hours before he gets a text message. He pulls over as soon as he can, and he feels a stirring of excitement in his stomach when he sees that it’s from Dennis.
Dennis: Come back
Dennis: Please
Dennis: Kinship foster got approved
Robby: See you tonight.
Dennis: Thank you so much
True to his word, Robby turns the motorcycle around as soon as he sends his text. How ironic it is that he spent so long being so firm about his sabbatical, insisting that he’d be gone for the whole three months. And now, here he is one week later, and he’s already bailing. But then he remembers what Duke said about running. At least this time, it’s towards something, and not from something.
It takes him another five hours to get back, and when he does, it’s only four in the afternoon. The last time he was here, just one week ago, it was nighttime. Dennis will still be at work for three more hours, probably longer. Violet will still be at the hospital, too, waiting to go home when he does. Robby should go pick her up, say hi to everyone, tell them that he’s back.
But Robby is a coward, and he’s not ready to see everybody yet, or to admit defeat on his three-month sabbatical just one week in. So instead, Robby goes up to his front porch and unlocks the door to his townhome, then he goes inside.
It’s very clean in here, and it’s obvious that Dennis has only been stopping by to take care of the place. When Robby goes upstairs, he sees that none of the beds in any of the three rooms been slept in. He checks the basement bedroom just in case, but that bed’s still made, too.
Robby takes a shower, and then he goes out shopping. This alone takes most of the time left in Dennis’ shift: getting a crib, baby clothes, formula, and everything else that Robby could think of that they would need, just in terms of the very basics. This won’t be for very long, so it would be ridiculous to go overboard on the shopping, but Robby wants to make sure that they’re prepared, too. It was his idea, after all.
At one point, he orders pizza to the house, and then he finishes setting up everything that he thinks they will need. The crib doesn’t take long to put together, and he puts it in his room, so that he can keep an ear out for her at night. He doesn’t expect Dennis to stay here, but if he wants to, Robby has made sure that the spare bedrooms are ready for him just in case.
It’s almost 9:00 P.M. when Robby hears Dennis’ key turning in the lock. The door opens, and in walks Dennis, wearing normal clothes, an exhausted expression, and a baby sling that’s carrying a sleeping Violet. When he sees Robby, his entire face lights up.
“You’re back!” Dennis bursts out.
“I said I would be,” Robby says as a smile forms on his face.
“I know,” Dennis says, “And I saw your bike out front. But I can’t believe you’re really back.”
Dennis just kind of stands there, clearly feeling a little lost, so Robby comes over to him. He then pauses, unsure of what to do. This is new for them. This whole thing is new for them, and Robby can’t believe that he actually asked Dennis to do this. This is a massive and strange thing.
But then again, it’s only temporary. They’re doing a good thing to keep this baby out of the hospital and in a real home, and then everything will go back to the way it was. If she gets adopted soon, maybe Robby can even take his bike back on the road and finish his sabbatical before his time off work is up.
“Do you want to hold her?” Dennis asks, his eyes wide. Something cracks open in Robby’s chest.
“Yeah, sure,” Robby says, so Dennis takes Violet out of the sling and hands her to him. He reaches his arms out to scoop her up, and his hands brush against Dennis’.
Robby shifts his position to cradle Violet in his arms, and then he looks down at her. He’s held her before—only just a week ago, actually. It feels different this time, though. One week ago, he was angry and broken and drowning, and she was an abandoned baby in a sterile room with nobody in the world. And Robby’s home isn’t exactly the coziest place in the world, but Dennis brings a certain warmth and presence of life to the place. And Violet can clearly tell that something is different now, because her face seems more relaxed. Robby doesn’t even know if that’s a thing that babies can pick up on. It shouldn’t be, he thinks.
“I brought the paperwork back here,” Dennis says. “You just need to sign it tonight or tomorrow morning, and then I can bring it back, and we’ll be good to go. The CPS rep knows that there are two of us, but I haven’t told anyone else. Nobody knows you’re back. I haven’t known how much to share.”
Something warms in Robby’s chest then.
“Thank you, Dennis,” he says.
For so long, Robby has felt very disconnected from everything, but holding Violet now while talking to Dennis about her care steadies him. And then, all at once, he feels the solutions that he needs coming together in his head.
“You can tell anyone,” Robby finally says. “I’ll call Jack tonight, and then I don’t care who all else knows. Just tell them that I’m back from my sabbatical temporarily until we can find her a home, and that I’ll be taking care of her in the meantime while you’re at work. And you’re always welcome here—you could move in for now, if you want, but you absolutely don’t have to—and don’t feel the pressure to be here all the time. I’m the one off work right now and who has the space for her, and I can take on most of the responsibility.”
He doesn’t know why he’s backtracking like this, just that he’s starting to feel the panic creep in. There he was just a week ago, and again just a few days ago, trying to help Dennis step back from being a coparent. And now, Dennis has gone from one baby to another, just because Robby had suggested it. There must be something seriously wrong with Robby.
“There’s a lot to respond to there,” Dennis says. “I have a lot I want to say. I’m just…” he trails off, but Robby can fill in the blanks. He’s tired. He’s hungry. He just worked a 13.5-hour shift.
“Let’s eat,” Robby says, gesturing to the pizza, “And then we can talk over dinner.”
Dennis nods. Violet already ate at the hospital, so Robby just puts her in the cradle that he got for downstairs, then he and Dennis sit down and eat together. Robby knows that this is a lot, so he lets Dennis lead the conversation. Sure enough, Dennis speaks up after just a few minutes.
“I don’t want you taking on the majority of the responsibility, Robby,” Dennis says. “You’re doing this as a favor to me, because I really care about her, and I want to be in it as much as you are. More, even.”
“If this is your idea of a favor, then you really need to get more selfish, Dennis,” Robby says, which makes him laugh.
“I’d like to stay here sometimes,” Dennis says. “If you’ll have me. Maybe half the time. Just for now. I want to be around, and we can take turns taking care of her and getting up with her in the night.”
Robby feels his chest soar at the thought of this. He knows he should probably tell Dennis that that’s not necessary and that he knows that Dennis has enough on his plate already, but he just says, “Of course. That sounds like a great plan.”
Dennis then pauses for a moment.
“So you’re going back on the road, then, after she gets adopted?” he asks.
Something twists in Robby’s chest.
“That’s the plan, if there’s still time left before my three months off are up,” he says.
Dennis looks conflicted, but he doesn’t push the issue.
“Okay,” he says. “Then I guess we’re really doing this.”
His eyes widen in disbelief, but there’s something else there, too. He looks really happy. Robby can tell how much Dennis loves Violet, and he’s been able to read through the lines of their texts and calls to tell how worried Dennis has been about what will happen to her. And now, they have a plan in place to make sure that she’s going to be okay, and it’s a good one.
_________________
Dennis had already brought over a change of clothes and his basic necessities before work this morning just in case the kinship foster got approved, so he spends the night at Robby’s. While Violet is sleeping and Dennis is taking a shower, Robby finally does what he’s been putting off doing: he calls Jack.
“Fucking finally,” Jack says. “How are you, Man? Where are you?”
“Hey,” Robby says.
“One week of nothing but proof-of-life emojis, and you’ve decided to start off with ‘hey,’ really?” Jack says, in the angry-teasing combination that he has perfected at this point for when he’s exasperated with Robby.
“Yeah, I know,” Robby says. And then he just rips off the band-aid: “I wanted call to tell you that I’m back. In Pittsburgh. At my place.”
Jack exhales in relief.
“You just made my week, Man,” he says. “A little earlier than I expected, but I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you made it back.”
This part is uncomfortable for Robby to talk about, and truthfully, he still doesn’t feel like he wants to be alive, or like he wants to return to his old life. But he has three months before he has to think about any of that, and he knows that he does want to be here, in his house, with Dennis and Violet. It feels surprisingly uncomplicated compared to everything else, and it’s the one thing in his life that he thinks he can manage right now.
“Yeah,” is all Robby says to this.
“What’re you doing back?” Jack asks.
“Funny you should ask that,” Robby says, stalling. “I’m actually doing a kinship foster, for the baby who was abandoned at the hospital on the 4th.”
“I thought Whitaker was doing the kinship foster,” Jack says. “He’s been checking in on her all week throughout his shifts.”
“Uh, yeah, that’s right,” Robby says.
Jack is quiet for a moment, processing.
“Robinavitch.”
“It’s just temporary,” Robby says, trying to keep his voice casual and even. “I could tell it’s been bothering him worrying about her, so I posed a solution. It’s going to be both our names on the papers, and it’s just until they find her a permanent home.”
“Huh,” Jack says. It’s a loaded huh. “And how could you tell it’s been bothering him?”
Oh, shit. Jack really does pick up on everything.
“Ah, it’s come up a few times this week.”
“You were talking to him on the road? I thought you weren’t talking to anyone on the road.”
“I wasn’t.”
“But you were talking to the kid,” Jack says, sounding amused.
Robby knows that he should appreciate how well Jack knows him, but more often than not, it just makes him feel exposed when he accidentally lets things show that he isn’t trying to, or sometimes that he might not even pick up on himself.
“He was keeping an eye on my place, Jack.”
“Don’t even get me started on that,” Jack says, sounding like the cat that ate the canary.
“Oh, I know better than to do that,” Robby says. “And you know better than to press the matter.”
Jack is quiet this time, and then finally, his voice gets serious.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he says.
They hang up soon after that, Robby signs the papers. Soon enough, Dennis is out of the shower. He comes downstairs wearing thin pajama pants and a T-shirt, with his hair wet. He smells like coconut. Huh. Robby doesn’t own coconut shampoo. He must’ve been so worried about using any of Robby’s things while he was here, that he brought all his own stuff with him when he packed a bag this morning.
“Hey,” Dennis says softly. “Thanks for watching her. I needed that. How’s she doing?”
Robby gets a pang in his chest.
“You don’t need to thank me, Dennis. We’re equals in this.” And then the next word just slips out, even though Robby knows better: “Partners.”
Robby regrets it until Dennis’ entire face cracks open with light and his eyes soften into something open and affectionate.
“Yeah, okay, partners.”
The air of Robby’s little townhome feels charged for a moment as Dennis looks at him from halfway across the room, just soft and content. And then Robby remembers that Dennis just asked him a question.
“She’s good,” he says. “Sound asleep. I’m going to take her upstairs in a minute to go to bed. I have a crib for her in my room.”
Dennis shakes his head in awe.
“You’re amazing, seriously. Thank you. For all of this, Robby.”
Robby feels his cheeks heat.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he says. “Go get some sleep.”
“I can move the crib in to be with me,” Dennis says. “I doubt you slept much on the road.”
“I’m off for three months,” Robby says. “I’ll have plenty of time to sleep. Go to bed, Dennis.”
Dennis takes Violet up to her crib, and Robby follows close behind him. Then Robby walks Dennis out into the hall and to where the two spare bedrooms are, to make sure that he knows that he’s welcome to stay in either one. Robby realizes then that it would’ve made more sense to offer Dennis the basement bedroom, particularly so that he wouldn’t be at risk of being woken up in the night. He likes having Dennis close, though.
“If you need any help with her, or if anything’s wrong, wake me up, okay?” Dennis says. “Please.”
Robby can’t help but smile.
“It’ll be fine, Dennis. I’ve treated plenty of babies.” It’s not the same thing, but still.
Dennis nods, and then he pauses.
“Goodnight,” Robby says gently.
“You, too,” Dennis says, turning on one heel to go to one of the spare bedrooms. But at the last moment, he changes his mind and turns back around, just stopping in place.
“I’m really happy you’re back,” Dennis says. “And I’m happy to be doing this with you. I know what you’re giving up to be here.”
Robby gives him a reassuring smile.
“It’s nothing,” Robby says, and then Dennis goes to bed.
Robby kind of wishes that he’d said something more, but at least he reassured Dennis. And it really is nothing. Because within the next month or so, Violet will be getting adopted, and then Robby will be taking his motorcycle out to go complete his sabbatical. Then it will be like none of this ever even happened.