Chapter Text
Fate had a remarkable talent for making every bad day worse. But today, it had enlisted Mother Nature for a little extra help.
The weather reports had been warning about the tropical storm off the coast for days. Robby hadn't paid much attention. He rarely ever cared about what the forecast looked like, but judging by the impenetrable wall of rain outside, maybe he should have. Sometime overnight, the outer bands had hit and the heavens had decided Pittsburgh hadn't suffered enough. Rain hammered the city in dense sheets -- thick enough that, even from the ambulance bay, he could barely make out the parking garage across the street. Local news had begged people to stay off the roads until the worst had passed. Apparently, half the city had taken that as a personal challenge.
Robby, unfortunately, didn't have the luxury of staying home for a rain day. After all, there was no rest for the wicked. Or healthcare workers.
By the time he'd clocked in that morning the department was already drowning. Every few minutes, another ambulance backed into the bay, its lights flashing through the rain in blurred streaks. It felt like every siren in Allegheny County had decided to converge on his emergency department at once. EMTs splashed through the ankle-deep water gathering at the edge of the bay, their uniforms completely soaked through, dragging stretcher after stretcher beneath umbrellas that did little to actually keep their patients dry. But it's the thought that counts, right?
Somewhere around 2:17 p.m., a loud crack of thunder shook through the building. The fluorescent overhead lights flickered once. Twice. Then everything went dark.
For one long, dreadful second, everything stopped. Then the chaos hit all at once.
Nurses scrambled for flashlights. Patients shifted uneasily, voices rising as the darkness settled over the department. Residents immediately started griping about having to work with the computers being down. But before the panic could truly take hold, the backup generators roared to life, bathing the ED in an uneven glow.
The place looked... wrong.
Half of the ceiling lights remained dark to conserve power, leaving stretches of hallway blanketed in shadows. The familiar symphony of monitors and conversation was replaced by the low, constant rumble of the generators beneath the building. It felt less like his ED and more like the set of some post-apocalyptic disaster movie.
Just as the department was beginning to find its new rhythm, the hotline rang. Dana snatched it up before the second ring. Robby watched as she paced in place, one hand pressed against her forehead as she answered with a string of "yeah"s and "mm-hm"s. The longer she listened, the tighter her jaw became. The hand on her forehead slipped down to pinch the bridge of her nose as she thanked the dispatcher and slowly lowered the phone.
"Robby." She didn't waste a second. "Mass casualty's inbound. Dispatch is calling it a fifteen-car pileup, but EMS is saying twenty-three. By the time they got on scene, they stopped counting." She swallowed, looking toward the ambulance bay. "They're still pulling people out. Majority of the vehicles are totaled. They have victims everywhere, some critical, some trapped, some they haven't even been able to reach yet. With the storm, we're going to have delays getting additional support."
People will really risk their lives before they'll stay home for one damn day.
"How long?"
"Ten minutes. Maybe less." Dana's expression hardened.
With a sigh, Robby clapped loudly, signaling his staff to pay attention.
"Okay, listen up, everyone. Discharge anyone who can safely follow up with their PCP after the storm," Robby called over the noise. "Pull every spare stretcher you've got. I want supplies from every department that's willing to part with them. Set up more hallway beds, too... we're going to need every inch of space we've got."
The department sprang into motion.
Nurses scattered to carry out orders. Residents hurried from room to room, wrapping up discharges and shuffling patients wherever they could fit them. Within minutes, the emergency department became a blur of stretchers, alarms, and hurried footsteps -- a constant effort to make room for whoever came through the doors next.
Robby rubbed the back of his neck as he watched it all unfold.
This was going to be a long day.
Within minutes, they ran out of trauma bays. Then rooms. Then hallway space. Eventually, they were patching people up in chairs because there simply wasn't anywhere else to put them. Before long, the entire department was soaked. Everyone had given up pretending they could stay dry, while housekeeping chased puddles that reappeared almost as quickly as they disappeared.
Robby had lost all sense of time. One moment, he was reducing a dislocated shoulder; the next, he was intubating an unconscious teenager. Every time he tried to move on to the next patient, someone stopped him -- an authorization needing his signature, a consult request, or another decision only he could make. He hadn't eaten. Hadn't peed in over eight hours. He hadn't even had a sip of coffee or water since he walked through the doors that morning.
Families crowded him, desperate for answers he often didn't have. He fielded question after question until there were no more words left to give. He had to look a man in the eyes and tell him that his wife and child hadn't survived. His pager never stopped buzzing against his hip, another demand layered on top of the dozen already waiting.
Eventually, his brain did what it had to do to keep him moving. It shut everything else out. He stopped thinking. Stopped feeling. He just worked. After thirty minutes without another trauma rolling through the doors, Robby finally let himself breathe. Just for a moment.
He needed to get out.
His eyes drifted toward the roof -- the place he usually went when he needed silence, a few minutes alone to collect himself. But the rain was still coming down too hard, turning his usual escape into a hazard of its own.
So... he settled for the stairwell.
He let his feet carry him wherever they wanted to go, not bothering to think about where he was headed. For the first time all day, he allowed himself to simply move. And, somehow, he found himself on the eighth floor.
The wing had been decommissioned for some time now, though he couldn't remember exactly how long it had been abandoned. Once upon a time, it had been an inpatient wing for med-surg. Robby had only been up here a handful of times when it was still operational, usually for something he barely remembered now.
But eventually, budget cuts caught up with it, as they usually do. There weren't enough nurses to safely keep the floor running. Or, more accurately, the hospital refused to pay nurses what they were worth while continuing to pile more and more work onto fewer people. Either way, the result was the same: another floor left empty and another space swallowed up by neglect.
Through the windows of the double doors blocking off the abandoned section of the hospital, Robby could already tell it was dark. The lights had likely been shut off for months, maybe longer. And honestly, who knew the last time anyone had even stepped foot up here?
Robby had never been afraid of the dark. But there was something unsettling about the emptiness of these halls -- the suffocating silence, the feeling of a place that had been forgotten. It crawled under his skin and sent a chill down his spine. Reminding himself that he was a fifty-ish year-old man who could handle whatever might be lurking in the shadows, he gripped the door handle and gently pushed it open.
Hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders creeping toward his ears, Robby forced himself to relax. He rolled them back, trying to release some of the tension that had been coiling through his body all day. With a heavy sigh, he continued down the hallway.
Then, as he rounded the corner, a sharp bang echoed from somewhere farther down the corridor. He froze.
What the hell was that?
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
Something, or someone, was up here with him.
Frozen in place, breath held, Robby listened for any other sign of life. A few seconds passed before another noise broke the silence, coming from somewhere farther down the hall. This time, he followed it. As he got closer, he noticed a faint glow spilling from one of the rooms ahead.
So much for being alone up here.
Except... that didn't make any sense. This floor was abandoned.
He slowed as he approached the room, his hand reaching toward the doorknob. But just before his fingers made contact, he stopped himself. Instead, he leaned closer, listening. Music hummed faintly from inside -- some kind of '80s funk, based on the bass -- followed by a voice singing along horribly off-key.
Robby blinked.
Carefully, he leaned toward the window in the door and peered inside. There was a young man in the room. Dancing around like he didn't have a care in the world, dressed in nothing but a tank top, boxers, and socks, using a hairbrush as a microphone. Robby couldn't see much of him with his back turned, only the messy blond curls that brushed against the nape of his neck as he moved.
Apparently, the abandoned eighth floor wasn't as abandoned as everyone thought.
Instinct took over. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was assessing the room the same way he assessed an incoming trauma. Hoodie. Phone charger. Textbooks. Empty energy drink cans. Instant ramen cups. A pair of discarded scrubs. PTMC badge.
Med student. Huh.
Robby continued his investigation. Considering the state of the room, this kid had been staying here for a while, presumably spending his nights in the abandoned wing. And Robby had just interrupted his nightly routine, which apparently included far more questionable dancing than Robby's own. Suddenly, the boy turned toward the bathroom, reaching for the towel hanging on the door. Robby immediately ducked back, retreating into the shadows and hoping he went unnoticed.
He only caught a quick glimpse of the stranger from the front, but it was enough to confirm that he was young. Younger than Robby initially expected. Mid-twenties, maybe. He had wide, striking blue eyes that stood out against the exhaustion written across his face -- dark circles and tired shadows beneath them that somehow made him look more vulnerable than worn down. Despite the obvious lack of sleep, there was something almost unfairly soft about his features, a kind of innocence that hadn't been completely beaten out of him yet.
...Christ, he's pretty.
The thought slipped in uninvited, and Robby immediately winced at himself.
He didn't really know why he was hiding, actually. If anything, he should have been confronting the kid to find out why he was staying here. But Robby's curiosity was winning that battle. As the boy disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door with a gentle click, Robby felt his phone buzz. He reached into his cargo pocket and pulled out the offending device.
Fuck.
Six missed calls from Jack.
He was missing handoff.
Sparing one last glance toward the room that now housed his newest distraction, he turned and quietly hurried back downstairs. As he slipped out of the stairwell and back onto the ED floor, Jack found him within seconds.
"Where the hell have you been, brother? Been trying to call you for the past twenty minutes. I was just about to send out search-and-rescue thinking you'd been washed away." Jack clapped him on the back, guiding Robby toward the staff lounge to grab some coffee.
"Just had to take a walk, y'know? Clear my head a little before going home. Didn't want to let my old-man grump rub off on any of the night crawlers."
Jack gave him a look. "...Right. Anything I need to know about? I can spare a few if you need an ear, man."
"No, no. I'm all good. Just needed a breather. Did I miss much?"
"Fortunately for you, yeah. Dana caught Shen and me up on everything, so we're all set. Go home, Robby. Get some sleep. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Robby laughed, shaking his head. "You have no idea, brother. See you in the morning."
On his way out, Robby glanced at the door guarding the stairwell. Every nerve ending in his body told him to go back up there. Shaking his head, he readjusted his backpack on his shoulder and zipped up his rain jacket. Unfortunately, he hadn't been lucky enough to score a spot in the covered parking garage that morning and instead had to park along the main street. He hurried to his car as quickly as his tired limbs would carry him. He fumbled with the keys, slippery from the rain, and finally managed to unlock the door.
Slipping into the driver's seat, he was greeted by silence.
Well... almost.
Rain pounded relentlessly against the roof, filling the cabin of the small sedan with a steady roar. The windshield fogged over within seconds, blurring the streetlights and trees into nothing more than smudges. Robby dropped his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.
What the hell was that?
Not the hellish events of the day in the Pitt. The kid.
He could still picture him perfectly: blond curls bouncing with every step and slide of socked feet across the dusty tile, completely oblivious to the world around him. Dancing like he was in the privacy of his own home.
A med student. Living in the abandoned med-surg wing. None of it made sense.
Was he homeless? Was he hiding from someone? How long had he been there? Did anyone else know he was up there?
Robby drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He should have said something. As a department chief, it was his responsibility to report something like this. He should have asked questions. He should have done... well... anything.
Instead, he had hidden behind a door like some Peeping Tom spying on a stranger.
"Jesus Christ," he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face.
Just then, his phone lit up with a text from Jack. Picking it up, he realizes he's been sitting here for over 20 minutes.
You make it home yet, old man?
He barked out a laugh, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Yeah, all in one piece. Now leave me alone and go do your job.
He tossed the phone into the center console and let out a long, uneven breath.
The kid wasn't his problem. Hell, he seemed to be doing just fine, so who was Robby to intervene as long as he wasn't hurting anyone? He huffed to himself and turned the key in the ignition, starting the car. He reached for the radio, turning it up in an attempt to drown out the rain.
The opening bassline filled the car."Get Down On It" by Kool & The Gang. The exact song he'd heard through the door to the kid's room.
Robby froze. Then he let out a tired laugh. "You've got to be kidding me."
He threw the car into gear and eased out into the street, the song carrying him home through the storm.
The drive home had been miserable. Half the traffic lights were still out, the roads turning into a sea of black beneath the never-ending rain. By the time he finally made it back home, his body ached and his eyes burned. The only thought left in his head was to crawl into bed. And soon.
He wandered through the motions -- keys, wallet, and badge all dropped into the little bowl by the door, backpack tossed onto the kitchen table, rain jacket hung up to dry. The apartment was quiet save for the rain tapping against the windows, which finally seemed to be letting up.
Trudging into the kitchen, he sifted through his freezer, trying to find something that wasn't freezer-burnt or sounded completely revolting. He settled on a chicken pot pie. Not necessarily the worst dinner, it had vegetables in there somewhere.
After popping it in the microwave, he settled down at the kitchen table. Usually, this was when he started to unwind, falling into the comfortable familiarity of his humble little apartment. The quiet. The routine. The small, ordinary things that reminded him he was finally home. Usually.
But tonight, it just felt... off.
The silence was too noticeable. The walls felt a little too empty. His mind kept circling back to the same place no matter how hard he tried to steer it elsewhere. Again, his thoughts wandered. Before he realized what he was doing, he was already back at the counter, dropping his used fork and bowl into the sink and filling the kettle. His hand reached for the coffee grounds on autopilot.
Slowly, he glanced over at the stove clock.
1 a.m.
"...Christ. Get it together, Robinavitch."
He dumped the water back into the sink and opted for a glass of ice water instead, downing it in one go before rubbing his hands over his face in an attempt to clear whatever fog was currently consuming him. Maybe a shower would help.
Steam quickly filled his tiny bathroom as he washed away the lingering scent of antiseptic and sanitizer. He stood beneath the borderline-scalding water longer than he probably should have, letting it beat against the back of his neck and knock some sense back into him. Letting the heat melt away the tension in his body, he closed his eyes.
Pale, smooth skin. Blue puppy-dog eyes. A mess of blond curls bouncing with every step and sway as the kid danced around that empty room without abandon.
Before he realized what was happening, a familiar warmth settled low in his abdomen, and his body reacted. His cock began to swell, twitching once in interest. Robby's eyes snapped open.
"For fuck's sake..."
He made quick work of the rest of his shower, scrubbing away the image along with the unexpected reaction. It didn't work. Thirty minutes later, he found himself staring blankly at his ceiling, having tried -- and failed -- to finally fall asleep.
Who the hell was that kid?
He'd seen plenty of odd things in hospitals over the years. Families sneaking in after visiting hours. Nurses hiding birthday cakes in medication fridges. Residents napping in supply closets and empty beds. But a medical student living in an abandoned ward? That was a new one.
His thoughts circled the same questions over and over until the concern slowly gave way to something... else. He remembered the way the boy smiled to himself while he danced, all teeth and bliss. The way he had been completely alone, yet utterly unconcerned with the possibility of being watched.
Except... he hadn't known he was being watched.
An uncomfortable knot twisted in Robby's stomach. He had stood there, unannounced, for far longer than could have been remotely excusable. He hadn't knocked. Hadn't cleared his throat. Hadn't made any attempt to make his presence known.
He had just... watched. Like some sick pervert.
"What the fuck is wrong with me?"
Rolling onto his side with a groan -- partially from frustration, but also from the aches of an old body in the rain -- he buried his face into the pillow. He couldn't even begin to explain why he was so fixated on the situation. It wasn't necessarily concern; the kid seemed to be doing more than fine on his own. Hell, it wasn't even attraction. It was just a glimpse into a stranger's life after a long shift at work. He didn't even know the kid's name, let alone his age beyond "probably too young." Robby didn't know a damn thing about him.
So why... why couldn't he stop thinking about him?
He couldn't help but wonder what the boy sounded like, what his eyes looked like up close, or whether his hair was as soft as it appeared. Whether he was asleep yet. Whether he was warm enough. Whether he snored. Whether he smiled in his sleep the same way he had while dancing.
God. He really was a creep.
Sleep didn't come for another two hours, barely giving him a full hours rest before his alarm dragged him back into reality.