Chapter Text
Robby woke up at 6:00 a.m. with exactly four hours of sleep in his system and a dead weight anchoring him to the mattress.
On any other day, he would have curled up against that heat source to get those two missing hours of sleep, so it took real effort to resist and try to slip out of the sheets.
Of course, at the slightest movement, the body groaned and tightened its arm around him, pulling him right back.
Robby scoffed, turning to face the man who had his eyelids shut and his jaw relaxed, pretending to be fast asleep.
"Hey, Jack," he murmured by way of greeting. "I've got a shift, I told you last night."
"I don't see why I should pay for your bad decisions," Jack replied, his voice rough with sleep as he buried his face in the crook of Robby's neck. "You belong on the night shift."
"Tell that to Adamson. He practically begged me to cover for him. You're on your own later, sorry."
Jack let out a muffled groan against his shoulder and tightened his grip. Robby waited patiently for a biting comeback, but Jack's leveling breathing confirmed his suspicions. He had fallen back asleep.
"And so the day begins," he sighed. "Jack. Come on..."
"You're too loud, let me sleep."
He knew from experience that trying to reason with his husband when he had less than three hours of sleep was a losing battle. Today, however, called for Plan B.
When Jack woke up hugging nothing but his husband's pillow, he frowned. He had promised himself he wouldn't let go of Robby all morning. How the hell had he slipped away?
"You win this round, babe," he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. "You won't get away next time."
He stretched out in bed with absolute bliss, reaching for his crutches leaning against the nightstand to head for the shower.
Once clean, dressed in casual clothes, and with his prosthesis properly adjusted, he made his way to the kitchen. A bagel and a mug in the microwave greeted him, along with a note on the counter that read:
"Groceries. We're out of everything."
He glanced at the wall clock; it read 10:15 a.m. His shift didn't start for another nine hours, so he had plenty of time to follow his husband's orders.
He flicked on the police scanner out of pure habit, just to have some white noise in the background.
"..we're on main avenue, got a reported accident, we need an ambulance at our location..."
"More work coming your way, Robby," he muttered to himself, taking the first bite of his breakfast.
How many polytraumas was his husband handling right now? Lately, Pittsburgh had seen a spike in accidents so high it was alarming. They didn't stop rolling in even on the night shift, which, combined with the recent staff cuts, made everything much heavier than usual.
He finished his breakfast without much delay. He washed the dishes and turned off the scanner before checking the time to start his errands, double-checking that the locks on the doors and windows were engaged—an old habit that never quite faded.
The drive to the supermarket was quick and quiet. He parked and walked toward the entrance with his hands behind his back, mentally debating whether to buy more garlic to season tomorrow's lunch or start experimenting with different spices.
"Bitch, look what you did to my mirrors!"
Jack stopped in his tracks and turned toward the commotion coming from near the motorcycle parking, where a huge guy was looming over a blonde woman in a coat and sunglasses.
The smashed motorcycle on the asphalt next to a Jeep with barely a scratch gave him all the context he needed.
"Considering how little you used them, I doubt losing them makes much of a difference," he heard her say in an indifferent tone.
"...this is why women shouldn't drive! You don't take responsibility for shit!"
Abbot had worked in the ER long enough to recognize the seconds right before physical violence erupted. By the time the man stepped forward and raised his fist, Jack had already closed the distance enough to intercept his arm in mid-air.
Both strangers turned to look at him in surprise.
"What the fuck...!" the biker spat, yanking his arm to break free. "Who the hell are you?! Are you with her?!"
"I think you should calm down," Jack suggested, crossing his arms, his tone perfectly steady. "A new bike is going to be cheaper than making bail for assault."
The guy seemed to reconsider, glancing between the two of them before spitting on the ground with a muttered "slut" and walking off to pick up the remains of his bike.
Jack let out a sigh and turned to the blonde. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? I can take you to the hospital."
The woman didn't respond right away. Her mouth was slightly parted in an expression of pure disbelief.
"Jack."
Oh, that was a surprise.
Usually, patients called him "Dr. Abbot," not "Jack." Did he know this woman from somewhere?
"Forgive me, age is starting to catch up with me," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Do I know you from...?"
The woman lowered her sunglasses, revealing hazel eyes that locked onto his, now sporting a sharp smile that struck him as terribly familiar.
"Wow, you don't recognize me? It really has been years," she sang out, tilting her head. "You, on the other hand, are still a carbon copy of Titus."
Titus.
All the noise in the parking lot dissolved into a deafening ring as time ground to a halt around him. The woman's face flickered, replaced again and again by the image of a bossy, stuck-up teenager.
Ursula.
With everything blurring around him, Jack had to force himself to draw breath, shedding the charming Pittsburgh hospital doctor for a grim, threatening man.
"Ursula," he spat with sheer hatred. "What the hell are you doing here?"
She pushed her sunglasses back up, tucking her hands into her jacket with arrogant ease. "I could ask you the same thing, brother. Is this where you came to hide? You should have let us know. Dad was worried sick for years."
Chester. Quick flashes burst behind his eyes: family dinners, guns, expensive suits, a woman on the floor, blood soaking into the carpet...
"Go to hell," Jack hissed, his jaw clenched with rage. "I think I made it perfectly clear that I wanted nothing to do with you all the day I left."
The woman's face softened, adopting a cheap look of pity that made Abbot's blood boil.
"Is this still about what happened to that woman? Dad never believed me when I told him you finally broke, but..."
"Shut up. Don't you fucking dare mention her. I don't know what business brings you here, but fuck off without me."
Ursula stared at him in silence for a long time. Her expression was predictably disappointed, but just as predictably, she said nothing, turning toward her Jeep to climb in.
"Thanks for stepping in earlier, even though I had it under control," she smiled at him from inside the car, opening her coat just enough to flash a holstered gun. "It was good seeing you anyway, Jack."
Hypocrite.
"Get out of my sight," he growled, fighting the urge to punch something.
The window rolled up, and the Jeep drove off, disappearing from view. Jack was left alone in the middle of the parking lot as the seconds ticked by. He didn't know how long he stood there, or how his feet automatically carried him to his truck, where he locked himself in silence.
Don't think.
That was the only thought looping in his head since he started the engine to drive back home. It worked like an anchor until he parked in the darkness of his garage, closed his eyes, and rested his head against the seat back.
Inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for five.
Inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for five.
Inhale for four, hold for four, exhale for five.
Slowly, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel began to loosen.
You are Jack Abbot. You are in Pittsburgh.
He had to come back to himself, he had to come back to himself, he just needed...
A reel of images suddenly played in his head: a deck of cards, high-pitched screams of terror, gunshots, blood. The woman's body lying on the floor.
He saw himself walking over to her, kneeling down, and pulling the ring off her ring finger to slide it onto his own.
Jack's eyes snapped open. He was hunched over the steering wheel, his forehead pressed against it as his erratic breathing starved him of air.
Come back to the present. He gripped the wheel tightly. Come back to the present!
He threw himself back with a gasp, leaning into his seat to take deeper, slower breaths, finding a steady enough rhythm to ground himself after several minutes.
When he finally felt it pass, he let out one last exhale and opened his exhausted eyes. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted to the ring on his left ring finger—a bittersweet anchor to reality that still made his stomach drop with a heavy thud.
"Shit!"
He balled that same hand into a fist and slammed it against the dashboard with all his might.
The remaining hours passed with him staring at the curtains, mind blank, until three hours in when he randomly decided they should be swapped for something more aesthetically pleasing.
At six in the evening, unable to bear the walls of his own house any longer, he threw on his black scrubs, grabbed his bag, and drove to the hospital.
"Wow, you don't recognize me? It really has been years."
Being back in his vehicle brought Ursula's voice right back into his head.
"You, on the other hand, are still a carbon copy of Titus."
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, barely focused on the road as sheer rage coursed through him at the image of a man identical to himself, standing over a woman's corpse on the floor, wiping a bloodstained knife on his formal suit.
"Just like I told you. I'd be the one to hunt her down"the bastard had told him with a proud smirk.
Jack parked in the hospital lot and squeezed his eyes shut, running through his breathing exercises again to calm down.
Inhale 4
Hold 4
Exhale 5
The visions began to fade, along with the ringing in his ears.
He walked through the ER doors at 6:40 p.m.
The place was the same as always: staff, relatives, and patients moving through the halls, residents finishing up their charts at the last minute, and Dana at the central desk talking on the red phone.
"Copy that, ten minutes," he heard her say before she hung up and looked at him with a smug smirk. "Well, look who won the zombie walk today. You're early, Abbot. Is it that hard being away from your husband?"
Just the mention of Robby made the knot in his chest loosen. Instinctively, his hand went to the engagement ring hanging from the chain around his neck, gripping it tight.
Michael.
"I like to think it's the other way around, and he's the one who can't bear being away from me," he replied with a charming smile, leaning against the counter. "How's the day been?"
"Pure hell." Dana rubbed the bridge of her nose, exhausted. "I don't know what's going on in Pittsburgh, but workplace accidents just keep going up. I'm seriously considering coming back to the night shift with you guys."
"You never should have left in the first place." Jack winked at her before glancing around.
"With the kids at school during the day, this is my way of getting home in time to be with them," she murmured, dropping her gaze to a medical chart in her hands. "If you're looking for Robby, he's in the bathroom. With all the patients pouring in, he hasn't had a chance to go until now. Poor guy."
Jack turned his attention back to her with a frown. "Isn't it dangerous at his age to hold it in like that?"
"You're his husband, you tell him."
"Tell me what?"
Jack turned his head to see Robby walking up to the nurses' station looking worn out, yet perfectly capable of pushing through another twelve hours if asked.
Seeing him made Jack's entire awful day evaporate. The knot in his stomach finally untangled and his chest felt lighter in his presence, grounding him naturally in the present moment.
"That trick you pulled to escape the bed this morning." Jack stood up straight to be level with the other man, even though Robby had at most two inches on him. "I figured out how you did it. It's not gonna work again."
"A pity, it was my favorite method," Robby smiled playfully, closing the distance to give him a quick peck on the lips. "Gave me just enough time to come up with new ones."
Jack raised an eyebrow. He was about to inform him that he was going to tie him to the headboard every night for being a smartass, when Dana scoffed loudly beside them.
"For the love of all that is holy, take your sickeningly sweet romance to the breakroom. Some of us just want to finish our shitty shift."
Robby rolled his eyes, amused. "I'm telling your husband you said that."
"You have my full permission, let's see if it gets him to give me more love." Dana winked, and they both laughed.
Jack just watched the two of them, feeling a deep comfort in the familiarity. It didn't take long for Robby to notice and turn his attention back to him.
"You're early. Was it that hard being away from me?"
The exact same question Dana had asked. As if it hadn't been Jack who proposed to Robby to be tied together for the rest of their lives.
"Let's just say I'm a good man who came to cover his husband so he could empty his bladder in peace," he replied with a fond smile, giving his mind no room to torture itself with anything else.
Robby shot Dana a glare for selling him out while she burst out laughing. "Day shifts are swamped. I have no idea how Adamson deals with this every day."
"You just said it yourself. It's Adamson," Jack shrugged. "Though I'm sure you crushed it today."
"He did," Dana chimed in, not looking up from the orders on her tablet. "I see our next chief in him."
"Let's hope I'm retired by then," Robby deadpanned. He turned to Jack, raising an eyebrow. "Ready for handoff?"
"Lead the way, boss," Jack drawled teasingly.
Robby clicked his tongue in exasperation.
The night shift only had to monitor a resolving asthma exacerbation in bed four and an upper UTI waiting on lab results. So, handoff complete and charts signed, Jack didn't think twice: he wrapped his arms around his husband's shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. Robby hugged him back instantly, sinking his hands into Jack's back, letting go of all the tension from his shift.
Running the ER without each other was double the work. He could feel it in the heavy weight his man was dropping onto him in that embrace.
"Do me a huge favor and don't move from that bed until I get home tomorrow," Jack murmured in his ear, feeling the vibration of Robby's chuckle against his neck. "I want to lie down with you for a while."
"Alright, I'll be up late then. Have a good shift, handsome."
Robby pulled back just enough to capture his lips in a soft kiss. Jack took control, pulling the back of Robby's neck to deepen it a bit, wanting it to last longer—a whole lifetime if necessary.
When they parted, Mike grabbed his bag from the counter and said his goodbyes. Jack watched him walk down the hallway until he disappeared from sight, finally turning toward the patient board.
Now that he was without his husband again, he noticed the sharp ache in his residual limb from not sitting down for most of the afternoon. Without Michael to split the load, what happened that morning had been pushed to the back of his mind in the face of how long tonight was going to be.
As he grabbed one of the charts, Jack felt a nagging twinge of unease, as if he were forgetting something trivial from that morning... He shrugged, walking toward Trauma 1. It probably wasn't important.
He should go find an eggless sandwich to eat; he was starving.
To be continued.