Chapter Text
Jack sat at the kitchen island, absently turning a mug of coffee between his hands while Robby stood at the stove, making breakfast with almost mechanical precision.
Eggs, Toast and Coffee. Same as always.
"You know," Jack said, watching him, "you don't have to cook every morning."
"I know."
"You could let me."
"I know."
Jack smiled faintly.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
The answer came too quickly. Robby set the pan down harder than he intended. The metallic clang echoed through the apartment.
"...Sorry."
"It's okay."
No eye contact.
Jack had noticed that lately.
Ever since Adamson's death Robby had thrown himself into work and chores and whatever he could find to keep him occupied.
Jack understood grief.
But this felt different.
The PTMC buzzed with its usual controlled chaos.
Monitors beeped, stretchers rolled past, nurses hurried between rooms.
Robby slipped effortlessly into his role.
It was almost like nothing had happened, like he didn’t cry all night and wake up from repeating nightmares.
Until Exam Room 2.
A frightened eight-year-old boy sat on the bed, clutching his left arm.
"I'm not letting anyone touch me," the kid said, clearly scared. His father folded his arms.
"You‘ll cooperate."
The boy shrank immediately. Robby stopped walking.Something about the father's voice…
Sharp.
Cold.
Authoritative.
His vision blurred for half a second.
Just a second.
The fluorescent lights seemed painfully bright.
Someone asked him something.
"...Dr. Robinavitch?"
Silence.
Robby blinked.
"...Right."
The next words didn't sound like Robby.
His posture changed almost imperceptibly.
His shoulders relaxed. His expression softened into something younger - almost shy. He crouched down until he was eye level with the little boy.
"Hey."
His voice had changed into something lighter and warmer.
"I know hospitals are scary."
The boy looked at him suspiciously.
"They are?"
"Oh, definitely." A tiny smile. "I used to hate them. I was in so many emergency rooms you know, and they always scared me"
Dana frowned. Robby didn't usually say things like that. The boy loosened his grip on his arm.
"You did?"
"Oh yeah."
The doctor smiled awkwardly.
"I fainted once when they reset my shoulder."
"You did not."
"I absolutely did."
The boy giggled.
"It was kind of embarrassing really. I was like 12"
Another laugh. Jack wasn't there to hear but if he had been he would've known instantly.
Because Robby Robinavitch did not ramble.
He didn't laugh at himself. He certainly didn't scratch awkwardly behind his ear while smiling like he'd forgotten he was supposed to be the attending. The father cleared his throat.
"Can we get this over with?"
Robby's smile disappeared.
He looked toward the man.
For a moment pure fear flashed across his face. Just a millisecond.
His shoulders instinctively curled inward.
His fingers tightened around his stethoscope.
"...Yes, sir, of course"
Robby blinked a few times, and confusion crossed his face. Like he'd woken up in the middle of a conversation. His expression flattened. His shoulders straightened.
This was more like Robby now.
"I'm sorry." He rubbed his forehead. "I... didn't sleep much."
Dana studied him carefully.
"You okay?"
"Yeah..I'm fine."
He finished the exam professionally.
As though nothing strange had happened.
But after the family left Dana texted Jack.
Jack arrived near the end of Robby's shift.
He leaned against the nurses' station.
"Ready?"
Robby looked up.
For a second he looked confused.
Almost like he didn't recognize him.
Then recognition settled in.
"Oh." His smile appeared. "Hey."
"You forgot your phone."
"I did?"
Jack held it up.
"It was still charging."
Robby stared at it.
"...Huh."
He genuinely looked surprised.
"I don't remember leaving it."
Jack shrugged.
"It happens."
Except... It hadn't.
Not to Robby. Never.
On the drive home, rain tapped softly against the windshield.
Jack drove.
Robby stared out the passenger window.
"Do you think... people can just forget parts of a day?"
Jack looked over.
Robby frowned.
"Sometimes..."
He searched for words.
"It feels like I'm skipping."
"Skipping?"
"Like reading a book."
"And finding out you've missed three pages?"
Jack finished "You've mentioned that before."
"Did I?"
"We already had this talk, Robs"
"Oh."
Robby looked genuinely puzzled.
"I don't remember saying that."
Silence settled between them.
Three days later. Jack stopped by the hospital again.
Robby was supposed to be finishing paperwork. Instead Jack found him sitting cross-legged on the floor of the staff lounge surrounded by crayons. A pediatric patient sat beside him.
The little girl proudly held up a drawing.
"What do you think?"
Robby beamed.
"I think your dinosaur needs a stethoscope."
The girl gasped.
"Doctorsaurus!"
"Exactly!"
He laughed—a bright, slightly awkward laugh that Jack hadn't heard in years.
"...Maybe glasses too?"
"So he can read X-rays?"
"So smart!"
Jack stopped in the doorway.
The entire scene felt off. Not bad.
Actually... It was sweet. Ridiculously sweet.
Robby was always kind with children.
But this was different.
He was animated and expressive.
His hands moved constantly while he talked.
His smile reached his eyes.
He even pushed his hair back in a nervous, absent gesture Jack had never seen him make.
One of the nurses walked past Jack.
She smiled.
"I didn't know Dr. Robby was such a dork."
Jack blinked.
"...Neither did I."
As if hearing him for the first time, Robby looked up.
His face went blank.
The smile vanished.
He stared at Jack.
Confusion flickered across his features.
"...Jack?"
"You almost done?" Jack smiled softly.
A long pause.
Robby looked down at the crayons in front of him. Like he had no idea why he was sitting on the floor.
"...What..." He frowned. "...What am I doing?"
The little girl giggled but Jack felt sick to his stomach.
"We're drawing!"
Robby looked at her, then at the paper, then back at Jack. He forced a small smile.
"...Right."
Robby looked unsettled too. He slowly stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his scrubs.
"I should... finish my charts."
He walked past Jack. Jack remained where he was. His gaze drifted to the drawing Robby had abandoned. A green dinosaur.
Round glasses. A white coat. And in careful block letters across the top, clearly written by the doctor rather than the child:
Dr. Carter.
Jack stared at the name.
"...Who's Carter?" he murmured.