A little bit of Jane Doe, Robby, and Jack
Fundamentally, few things actually make Jack nervous. More accurately his Parasympathetic Nervous System was irrevocably fucked with some time between his first tour in Iraq and getting blown up. Brenda calls it PTSD. He prefers vigilance. Robby. Well Robby can’t really say shit.
All this to say Mary, a 5’1 woman who he knows for a fact has at least five years on him despite looking in her late thirties, should not make him squirm. She does so with efficiency and apathy.
She’s here to inspect Robby’s house. When Robby finally agreed to take her and they signed all the paperwork, Jack loaded as much baby supplies given on loan from the hospital as possible into his truck. Robby sat him in the passenger seat without any prompting. Jack’s shoulders sagged in relief because there was no way in hell he’d let his friend ride his motorcycle.
He went to his place because of muscle memory. Robby just laughed and asked if he had a spare room. He knew he did. They agreed to just stay there for the night. Robby’s far enough to be in on isn’t and Whitaker already had the keys to his place—Jack’s eyebrow shot up when that was disclosed. So that meant that night was spent semi haphazardly rearranging the guest room to fit a temporary crib.
The next day he practically hunted down Whitaker—some time in the future he really should apologize to the kid for sneaking up like that—to get the key back, inform him his services won’t be needed, and if he hears the kid mention anything about Robby’s offer and its subsequent retraction Jack will do everything but break the Hippocratic oath, technically. By the end poor guy couldn’t look him in the eye and regressed back to that M4 who just arrived for his first day. Dana even sent a fairly accusatory text mentioning he looked ‘haunted’.
Jack will get around to apologizing at some point.
Now only three days after the initial incident. Turns out if you mention Rebound Bond in the same sentence as doctor and medically fragile infant CPS works faster.
Robby’s next to him holding Jane Doe. He looks…he looks like he’s sorely tempted to be hostile but is aware enough of consequences to not. For the record Jack would help him hide the body with no second thoughts. Hell she’s small enough they might actually be able to bury her in the pitiful bed of weeds Robby calls a backyard.
She takes in them, eyes too professional to come off as judging them personally. Jack wonders if he should’ve let Robby put an outlet cover on the electrical socket on the kitchen counter.
Baby Jane sleeps through their anxieties. Maybe them losing their minds is a comfort to her.
Robby leads them through the house. Doing his best impression of a realtor who’s trying to sell a haunted house. At some point around the time he’s showing his office turned nursery—which was cleaned for the first time since the first Bush administration two days ago—Jane wakes up and promptly throws up on him.
The nerve of the little lady.
Jack must respect her knack for timing.
He doesn’t hold back his chuckle as he reaches for her, already accepting he may very well share Robby’s fate. Unlike the omega, he didn’t bother over dressing. A clean shirt and slack felt appropriate. He mentally saluted Robby’s button down, it was one of his nicer ones.
Robby scurries to go change and Jack continues on in his stead. Bouncing baby Jane as he goes and doing his damnedest to pretend he’s giving her a tour and not a woman who’s made up completely of bureaucracy, competence, and the self assuredness to make life changing decisions within a thirty minute window. The baby settles nicely and Jack holds back a coo out of fear he’ll come off as fake affectionate rather than the truth, which is significantly more pathetic.
“She seems just as comfortable with you.” It doesn’t sound like a complement, just observation.
“I’ve been around her a lot.” An obvious enough statement. He did put himself down as Robby’s emergency contact and main support on the forms. Critically he left the box for partner blank.
Mary hums thoughtfully. “You’d be surprised how many babies start crying as soon as the other parent holds them.”
Truthfully he’s not. He’s seen it enough at work. An emergency, the parent on hand knows nothing about the kid—typically a man, typically an alpha, for it to be an almost sure thing they’re both. One memorable occasion the parent forgot the child’s name and birthday. Not in the funny ‘I have too many children’ way, in the honest to god, heartbreaking, ‘makes you wonder if this warrants CPS’ way.
He figures trying to come off as an equal when she’s certainly seen more shit in this particular way isn’t the best thing. He nods and continues to bob with a baby that’s acting suspiciously parasitic.
“She’s had a tough start. We both want to help her any way we can.”
Mary writes something down and they continue to the main bedroom. Robby’s in there just finishing buttoning up another shirt. This one ranks lower than the old one, by at least three. Maybe he’s just being cautious.
When he sees Jack and Jane there’s a moment where he just softens. The entire room seems to. The light gets one watt lower, the AC’s hum becomes symphonic, Robby’s hair catches just enough to look like a halo.
The last two days were filled with none stop shopping, assembly, and negotiating with increasing absurdly named furniture. Jack promised Shen way too much to get the first day off. He then successfully glowered his way into getting two weeks off—apparently all one has to do to get Gloria to cooperate is to position yourself in the door way so that you’re always in her peripheral. Robby’s taking a crash course in the joys of parenthood with a highly traumatized baby whose attachment will be studied to create a new, strong adhesive.
Suffice to say they haven’t had time to consider anything but the basement of Maslow’s hierarchy.
Mary takes her time inspecting. Apparently she’s satisfied because she doesn’t look back with the vibe of disapproval.
“I noticed a cot in the nursery. I assume one of you sleeps in there?” There’s a decision in there.
Robby looks a bit sheepish. “Yeah, me. She just wouldn’t stop crying the first night.”
Mary’s head tilt felt magnanimous. “It’ll be important she learns to self soothe.”
You can tell she’s an old hand because she manages to communicate that it’ll be a process and she’s not actually expecting to hear Jane is sleeping by her shelf by the next visit. If there’s a next visit. Robby nods and they move on.
After Jane is put down for her name they congregate in the living room. An already cozy space that has been colonized by toys; the amount making it seem like organized chaos even though Robby and Jack spent the morning strategically stacking and restacking them.
Mary sits down on a chair with three burp cloths on its back with the elegance suited for a gala. The questions are standard, the comments are neutral—which means glowing—, and the feedback is helpful but not fundamentally significant. Then came the topic of their relationship.
“You are the primary guardian, correct?”
“You put Jack Abbot as both your emergency contact and as Jane’s secondary guardian.”
“You aren’t mated.” It’s said in a tone that reeks of more bureaucracy and systematic inconvenience.
“No.” Robby doesn’t shy away from the statement. For as long as Jack’s known him he’s been comfortable in his bachelorhood. Their particular friendship paired with him being unmated continues to ruffle some of his family, but Jack’s far too old to let his mother dictate his relationships.
Another lesson he learned with Charlotte.
Early on he knew she wanted to focus on her career. He was fine with it, his family not so much. It was the first time he actually fought with them. Not the childish, only takes a couple days to resolve, type of fight. The kind that distinctly marks you as your own person.
They still make their comments but Jack’s found it increasingly easy to ignore them.
“And you don’t plan to be.” She’s sharp enough to not sound hopeful.
“In the event you do get mated—”
“Extremely unlikely.” Now Robby sounds offended. At least he has the decency to look chastened immediately after he says that.
“If you do, you understand by Massachusetts law you will have to change guardianship to your mate?”
“Yes.” It was actually Jack who told him. Mary’s looking at him in her peripheral, he tries to look neutral about it but the single raised implies he failed.
Jack’s…protective. Always has been. Between a single mother, the oldest, and the military; he makes sure to take care of his own. In another life it was possessiveness. Manifesting in daily updates and forcefully inserting himself into groups he had no business being in. Charlotte made sure to put an end to that real fucking quick.
“If you ask me where I was one more fucking time I swear to God!” She snapped, knee deep in 2L and always in the library. Too tired to be polite about it anymore.
It was their first real problem as a couple. The first thing that actually required time and self reflection and compromise to fix. She sat and listened to him tell her about staying up at night waiting around for his mother to come home and the shitty boyfriends and learning how to fight while he was little more than skin and bones and how he’s in charge of fucking babies that are more likely to get each other blown up than any enemy. She listened and she held him and reassured him that she was his partner and they took care of each other.
It took years, but the trust was always there. Trust she could take care of herself. What was hard to shake was the impulse that guarding and protecting equated love.
After she passed, Jack never expected to feel those impulses again. Not that strongly anyway.
With Robby, well it was different. He was part of Jack’s pack but not like that. He was a friend, a colleague, and later his boss. A brother in arms. Jack knew he wasn’t his like that.
Perhaps part of him also refused to acknowledge Robby as an omega.
Now Robby’s holding a pup and looking more solid than he has in months. He’s here instead of flying down some highway. He’s here and he’s entrusting Jack with something far more important than either of them.
Robby, Michael, must know what this means to him. What was once simply loyalty has now morphed into something all consuming. That he’s now willing to kill and bleed and die for them. It turns over comfortably in his stomach. Familiar marching orders, the universe righting itself once again.
Jack Abbot has something to protect.
Massachusetts law can go to fucking hell.
“As I said before, that’s not happening.” Robby’s looking directly at him as he says it, certain and firm. An assurance or a warning, now’s not the time to figure that out.
Mary looks between them but doesn’t write anything.
The rest of the inspection goes well and apparently the background check already came back clean. Kiera must’ve pulled a substantial amount of favors for them. Jack will have to write her a thank you letter.
The house settles into a familiar lull after Mary. Robby’s crumpling into his cloths and Jack’s taken off his leg. He’s readying Jane’s bottle and Robby is trying to keep her up until dinner so she’ll actually sleep tonight. He still hasn’t let her nurse, an excruciating caution for if this goes south.
Privately, in his own head, Jack plays with that scenario. He knows what he should do, the standard practice. They’d have to hand her over to some social worker, ideally a Mary type. Then they’d have to slowly de-evolve the nursery back into an office. Then, nothing.
He’d be there to file through the out going paperwork. He’d dismantle the crib and gather the burp cloths for donation and take out all the socket plugs. He’s be there for the silent devastation and destruction of Robby. He’d be there to sort through the wreckage and pray to find something still alive.
It would be automatic. A culmination of years of caretaking and stepping up and forced compartmentalization. Instinctively he shudders at the proposition.
What kind of man, what kind of alpha, would simply let that happen? Would he not fight to the bitter end, give Robby a chance to escape with his child? Would he not be willing to sacrifice everything?
“Is the bottle done?” Robby asks from the living room, now holding a considerably less agreeable Jane. He hurries over in lieu of answering. She’s squirming now and instinctively grabbing at Robby’s chest.
He shots him a grateful look and gives her the bottle. She deems it acceptable and latches.
“Will you let her feed? Once the fostering’s officialized.”
“We don’t know that.” He argues stubbornly, putting all his focus on the Jane. He’s danced around the entire topic and while Jack’s inclined to let it be, there’s curiosity.
“Two attending doctors at one of the state’s best hospitals? Both demonstrating considerable efforts to better themselves. One of which is already bonded with the baby? Michael.”
“It would still be inpermanent.” He mutters, more to himself than Jack. Maybe a reminder to Jane. “It would hurt more if she was fully bonded.”
“She’s practically already there. So are you.” Jack doesn’t say. Instead he takes in the scene. Robby on his couch, formerly black leather but is now covered in multiple blankets, wearing non scrubs for more than seven consecutive hours for the first time since probably the first Obama administration and holding a baby looking like an exhausted Madonna.
Jack doesn’t say anything. Instead he squeezes onto the couch. Jane doesn’t feel the need to acknowledge him. Robby turns to look at him, worn but emitting a scent that’s best described as love.
“You don’t even see it do you?” Jack wonders internally. He’s seen many people of all walks of life fall for Michael, every single time they can only look at him as if he was a star manifested. Not always romantically either; some like Langdon are just taken in and made a fool trying to get and retain his attention. Jack can’t say he ever got it, he always knew Robby as a man. Always knew he had his favor. Here and now he knows he’s no more immune to Michael Robinavtch’s gravity than anyone else. What a fool he is.
“Okay.” He says softly, delicately wrapping his arm around Robby’s shoulder. Robby leans into Jack and he purrs, pleased he can be this for him. A pillar of stability, someone he can rely on.
“Hey, don’t get any ideas.” He playfully glares at Jack.
Robby smiles at him, beguiling and completely unselfconscious. He shave this morning in preparation, he went shorter than normal and took off the mustache portion entirely. He said over the last two days he’s forgotten how to shave and messed up. Jack suspects he was trying to look more omega like but didn’t what to commit to the complete bare face. He’s grateful for that, while young Michael certainly looked cute with his baby face it would just look wrong on Robby, a man who’s seen more shit before noon than most people see during their life.
The shorter beard and meticulous grooming does make him look livelier. Less sea captain adrift and more roguish adventurer mid expedition. That paired with the fondness for Jane oozing out of him, and he looks half way close to a well adjusted parent. A person looking toward the future with hope. Someone who makes actual week end plans and meal preps.
How could Mary not say he was fit to be a parent?
Jack closes his eyes and lets himself rest. Comforted by the way all of their scents intermingle.
The perks working night shift is that Jack’s not nearly as bothered by Jane waking him. They’re starting to take turns with who sleeps in her room. She’s plenty familiar with his scent and this way they’re slowly weening her off of needing Robby’s 24/7. The next step will be just leaving heavily scented clothes next to the crib and of course using the baby monitors. But all of that is a pipe dream at this point.
It’s been nearly a week since the visit. They were approved—of course they were. Jack wasn’t trying to blow smoke up Robby’s ass about that, they really were the dream foster parents—Robby had the audacity to look surprised when they got the call. He just looked at Jack, like he was the master of reality itself and it was his divine ordainment that made this so.
He held her so, so close. Practically tried to fuse them into one being.
He still hasn’t let her nurse.
Jack has the privilege to watch this. It is not his place to interfere or meddle. He watches Robby slowly come alive and try to be better. Finally having a reason to be better. Something that requires him to be beyond functional.
The only time he leaves without her is to his therapy appointments, four times a week with someone Brenda recommended. Robby hasn’t told him who and Jack knows better than to pry.
This is far better. Robby coming back and actually willing to take off his scent patches and occupy space. Willing to be vulnerable enough for Jack to know how he feels.
He can only hope this continues even after Robby goes back to the Pitt. Because of course he will, they both know it.
He allows himself to assess these problems only at night. The advantage of night caretaking is that it truly gives him time to think. And not just about Robby and Jane. About scheduling logistics and bracing for more admin work and preparing for getting back and grovel at many people’s feet for leaving.
He lifts her right before she can really get going.
“Already a little soldier. You’re more punctual than half the guys I knew.” He smiles and she lets out a warning gurgle that roughly translates to ‘you’ve got three minutes to feed me before the alarm goes off’. Maybe his smile’s a little indulgent as he moves through the house without turning on a light.
Maybe two years ago he finally caved and bought a knee scooter. It was a joke gift for the fifteenth anniversary of looking his lower leg. Its usefulness is insulting.
Jane lets out a little squeal of delight as they wiz through the house. Jack’s certain Robby would have opinions about how fast he’s going especially in the dark.
“Now don’t tell Robby about this little lady.”
“Then it’s a deal?” He asks solemnly finally turning on the kitchen light. “I’m taking your word for it.”
“Aiehh.” Jack nods. Already going for the premade formula.
“You know, I really have to thank you.”
“No I do. Robby wasn’t doing so good before you.”
“Yeah, you felt that too? It wasn’t great and I—” He set the microwave, wincing at aphis loud the beeping sounds. Jane is in his left hand, almost swallowed up by his bicep and forearm. God Jack never thought he’d have this. And he’s blowing it by trauma dumping to a baby. “—he’s willing to try for you. So thank you. For being here. For giving him a reason to try.”
“Aie.” Her eyes are so large, so aware, taking in everything. Even something as mundane as this kitchen is a complete novelty to her. Yet he isn’t. Robby isn’t. He can smell it from her, her scent—still mostly baby—completely at ease with them. It might be his imagination or desperation, but he swears she’s starting to smell like them. His throat constricts as he thinks about the implications.
The microwave lets out half a shriek before Jack violently pushes the button to open it.
At least the formula’s the right temperature and she drinks it well enough.
After a diaper check and another scooter lap she’s right back to sleep. Jack’s heard from some of his outside friends that they used to drive their kids around at night to get them to fall asleep. With this perspective he figures an amateur F1 impression with his scooter and living room furniture isn’t half bad.
He turns on the dim lamp in the nursery to put her back down. The room—and dare say the house—is already starting to reshape around her. A new plush chair in here for feedings. A diaper changer station. Pastel pieces of art now hanging alongside photos of Charlotte’s garden. Stuffed animals sharing the same space as challenge coins and the odd army ribbon.
Jack settles himself back down on the cot, the feeling nostalgic in its own right even if his back wishes to litigate due to breach in contract.
He’s…happy. Oddly, wonderfully, and completely happy. For the first time since before Charolette passed. He’s eager for the paper work and the late nights and the diapers and the baby monitors. He already canceled his next TEMS shift, and he has a feeling he might stop entirely. While Jack refuses to consider that particular extracurricular as equivalent to Robby riding without a helmet, he fully acknowledges there’s an inherent and higher risk. Something that previously he was willing to accept but now simply won’t. It’s not like he’s on active duty and given orders. No, if he stays and something happens to him and he hurts Robby and Jane there’d be no one to blame but himself.
He hasn’t turned on the police scanner since practically moving in with Robby and Jane. Pragmatically it garentees they’d never actually get any sleep because she’s still fairly sensitive to noise now that her body’s gotten a bit of a chance to recover. But he hasn’t even felt the impulse to listen to anything on his phone. On a deeper personal level, he’s found there’s no need. The house isn’t, even when all the other occupants are asleep. Here and now, the soft sounds of Jane’s breathing are enough.
