Before he could sprint out, his eye caught the crumpled figure sobbing, sitting along the walls painted with cartoon animals intended to calm and soothe those who had the misfortune of being in the room. He recognized the man and, for not the first time that day, he wished he didn’t. The man he had haphazardly kissed the night before.
Dennis was well acquainted with death. The church he grew up in was his first introduction to the idea that life wasn’t permanent. Most reasonable people would never force a child to understand that not only do people die, but that a hellish afterlife awaited them if they did wrong. His Sunday school teacher loved to remind the mere 5-year-olds of that fact when the class got too rowdy. But he was also taught of Heaven, a place that promised peace and refuge from the misfortunes of life. There were times in his youth when he thought it certainly sounded better than taking another beating from his older brothers. Even his relatives rejoiced about death. They would always announce how excited they were to “return home to the Lord,” even if they were perfectly healthy. He was taught to believe that everything was God's plan and that he did everything for a reason, even end lives. For many years, this was a satisfactory line of reasoning for Dennis. It made the thought of death less scary, less gruesome. When he would help his father put down a horse or a cow that had gotten too sick, he would remind himself that they’re in a better place, even with tears streaming down his face. It wasn’t until his grandmother died that he began to question how merciful death really was. He was the closest with her because she was the only one in his family, besides his mom, who didn’t ridicule him for being “more sensitive” than the rest of his brothers. She always reminded him to keep his heart open and that it was never a bad thing to be the way he was. He watched her die a slow death; some form of cancer was all the doctors in his small town ever cared to say. They didn’t even try to save her, more just managed her pain until she finally passed in her sleep. Dennis held her hand that entire night while he listened to her breathing slow until there was no longer any air in her lungs. He recalls that night being the time he decided he was going to become a doctor, of some sort at least. He could no longer sit idly and watch death take innocent lives.
He considered himself quite lucky that he didn’t directly see death all that often, but his previous rotations of departments weren’t necessarily the breeding grounds for death like the ED was. So when his very first patient died this morning, death sent a cold chill down Dennis’s spine. The same chill he felt all throughout the last night of his grandmother's life. Everything he had set out to do by becoming a doctor came crashing down around him. The same nauseating thought that he had lost all his competency flooded his brain when his attending insisted that he stop compressions and call it. Nobody blamed him; nobody had to blame him. He blamed himself enough.
“No doctor on the planet could’ve caught this,” is what Dr. Robby had told him this morning, as if it was reassuring. The whole conversation felt like a mockery and a regurgitation of all his Sundays spent being told that even the most tragic death that happened to the most innocent people happened for a reason. He spent 20 minutes in the bathroom throwing up before he felt even remotely okay to treat another patient.
And as he found himself surrounded by death now, the victims of blatant violence and hatred laid out in the irony of the pediatric room, he couldn’t help but feel the same nausea pull at his stomach again. Before he could sprint out, his eye caught the crumpled figure sobbing, sitting along the walls painted with cartoon animals intended to calm and soothe those who had the misfortune of being in the room. He recognized the man and, for not the first time that day, he wished he didn’t. The man he had haphazardly kissed the night before. The man who seemed to follow him around the emergency room all day, like a shark swimming around its prey.
It had seemed to Dennis that death had no effect on the man, with his fixed face and steady voice every time he encountered it. The young boy’s heart sank at the thought that his judgments had hindered him from seeing through Robby’s professional mask that he had all but nearly glued to his face by now. The hard-ass of an ER attending was struggling, and he didn’t see it. He couldn’t resist his body’s pull to the man. If he didn’t do anything earlier, maybe he could do something now.
“Dr. Robby?” Dennis' voice came out steadier than it felt. Robby didn’t respond, so caught up in his panic, it didn’t seem like he was even aware someone else was in the room. He was muttering something the boy couldn’t quite make out. After another failed attempt to get the attending's reaction, he took a seat next to him on the ground.
Dennis was a little shaken seeing the man he had thought was so emotionally checked out clearly having a breakdown. It was like some sort of sick proof that the man was human after all, and for some reason, it hurt to see him like this.
“They need you out there, kid. You should go. They need you.” Robby’s voice came out clear, which caught Dennis by surprise. After all the mistakes Dennis had made today, he couldn’t find it in himself to believe Robby’s statement. Dennis let out a little scoff.
“We need you out there,” Dennis couldn’t help but let the next part slip out. “I need you out there.”
Robby seemed to curl in further on himself but turn his body closer to the boy. He looked at Dennis for only a split second, but Dennis could see the tears filling his eyes. He could see the look of surrender written on his face. Dennis wasn’t exactly sure what to do to get the man upright again. He had already figured out that Robby wasn’t the kind of guy who needed consoling or was any good at it himself from the poor attempt he had made with the boy earlier that day. Then, Dennis thought of something. A ridiculous idea and completely demeaning to his boss, but he might as well give it a shot.
“Look at me.” Dennis tried to make the command sound forceful, but the gentle nature of his voice ruined his efforts. Robby was still hiding behind his hand, ignoring Dennis completely.
“Look at me.” He tried for a softer tone this time and reached out his hand to grab the man's face. Robby felt malleable in Dennis’s hands, completely unlike how solid he had felt at the bar. When Dennis met Robby’s eye, he found it hard to read what exactly was going through his head. Though, nothing was signaling that he wanted Dennis to stop.
“Breathe, Robby. Look at me and breathe.” Dennis modeled calming, deep breaths. To his surprise, the man actually complied with his instruction.
“Yeah, that’s right. Good. Keep breathing for me.” Dennis watched the man carefully and took note of how his chest began to slow down as his breaths took a calmer pace. Dennis leaned into the man's ear just slightly to deliver the next instruction.
“Now slowly stand up. Take my hand.” He held out his hand and waited.
“I can’t.” Robby sounded shaky even as his breathing had become significantly slower.
“You have to. Take my hand. Use me for support.” Dennis reassured him. And Robby did just that. He seemed to enjoy letting someone else take control for once.
When Robby finally stood, he shoved Dennis away from him, signaling that he no longer needed him. Dennis felt a very small sense of accomplishment in knowing he could help; that the man didn’t immediately put his walls back up and walk out, but he certainly wasn’t about to push the limits. He stood only for a few more moments and then began his way to the door.
“I’ll see you out there.” Dennis didn’t wait for a reply as he knew he wasn’t getting one. Whatever headspace Robby was in that allowed Dennis to essentially boss him around, he had already snapped out of.
Robby couldn’t quite believe the scene that had taken place just a few moments ago. Being guided and told what to do should have felt mortifying, if it wasn't for the mouth that the orders were being barked out of. He thought it was quite cute how the naive boy thought he could help, but Robby had to admit that, to some extent, it did. If anything, it pulled his head out of his ass for enough time for Robby to realize how dumb it was to be wasting precious time having a meltdown when there were god knows how many patients that still needed help. He didn’t have these episodes often, and when he did, he was almost always on the roof or in his apartment, where no one could find him. He didn’t mean for it to happen in a place where anyone could walk in, but he just couldn’t help it. This time, he had no control over when it happened. The sheer amount of traumatic cases today and the PittFest shooting, combined with the fact that it was the anniversary of Dr. Adamson’s death, made this one of the worst days in his entire career. Robby knew he was in no state to be handling all of this, let alone handling it well.
The man took a few more moments and a few more deep breaths, just like Whitaker had forced him to, before he left the makeshift morgue. He looked at Leah’s covered body one more time and vowed not to let another patient die today; he was almost afraid of what he would do if he did.
Making his way out of pedes, Robby found Whitaker almost immediately. He still wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the interaction and was even less sure of what to say to him. He was almost shocked that the boy who was so small and gentle had a harder side to him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he might like to explore that one day.
“Good job, Whitaker, Donahue.” Robby nodded at the pair taking care of yet another injured patient. He addressed them both, but hoped that Whitaker got the message that his attending was back to business, following the boy's instructions. Dennis only offered a cautious smile as a response, but Robby could feel his eyes follow him as he made his way through the rest of the ER.
Robby quickly resumed his position as attending, lobbing out compliments and thank you’s to the hardworking team that he knew were just as, if not more shaken up, as he was. Though his niceties ended when his chief medical officer, Gloria, pressed him yet again about his haphazard efforts in saving lives. Robby and Gloria bumped heads a lot on this issue, but he found it completely inappropriate for her to be upset about anything after what they had all just gone through. He yelled at her out of pure frustration, causing looks from staff and patients alike. Though he didn’t regret it one bit. His “partner in crime”, Dr. Abbot, swiftly swooped in to break up the interaction before Robby could make the damage to his tenure any worse.
“Robby, get some air, brother. Check on Triage.” The grey-haired man barked out. It reminded Robby of Whitaker’s instruction in pedes. It made his body go hot. Now he did actually need to get some air.
Whitaker couldn’t believe how quickly the hospital shifted from just treating the shooting victims to being back up and running for everyone. It reminded him of his first trauma patient this morning, which had left him feeling the same dizziness he was succumbing to now as he felt the elevator swiftly travel down each floor of the hospital. He was a little disoriented as he made his way off, trying to stay on his feet as he could feel the exhaustion set in.
“Whitaker, got a sec?” Robby didn’t wait for a response before putting his hands on the boy's shoulders and squeezing them like a stress ball. Whitaker perked up almost instantly at the contact. The warm, firm hands felt nice on his tensed back.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” He responded, but it wasn’t like he had been given a choice. Robby was practically dragging him into a separate hallway before he had the chance to properly respond.
“Look, uh, thanks for the help earlier.” His attending’s arms were awkwardly at his sides now, and Dennis missed his warm hands. There was a slight unease in Robby’s tone, and Dennis could feel his face flush. He still didn’t know why he had chosen to be so direct with the older man, but given that it worked, he assumed it was the right thing to do.
“Hey, no problem. Just returning the favor.” Whitaker replied, gesturing to his nose, which was beginning to really hurt again. The older man instinctively reached out to grab Dennis’s face and reevaluate his injuries. His arms stopped awkwardly in the air, and instead, he put his hands behind his head.
“How are you doing?” Dennis took a second to answer, as Robby could be referring to any amount of shit the med student had endured that day.
“I’m tired. Rethinking my decisions to become a doctor.” Robby could only laugh at the admission and offer a slightly sympathetic look. “How are you doing?” Dennis asked pointedly.
Robby rubbed his neck like he was hoping a genie would pop out and grant him a wish to leave this conversation. “This job will fuck you up if you let it. I hope that you don’t let it.”
Dennis felt for the cross necklace that sat under his scrubs. It had belonged to his grandmother, and he wore it every day as a reminder of everything she had ever taught him. “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear.” Dennis recited the scripture he had heard so often from his grandmother's mouth. He didn’t even notice Robby’s slight look of shock until he met his eyes.
“It’s uh- Psalm 46… My family is religious, and I was an undergrad theology major.” Dennis stumbled through the words, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “ I think it helps keep me grounded, as silly as it sounds.”
“You know, I don’t even know if I believe in God. Especially after days like today,” Robby stated. Whitaker wanted to eat his former words and make it clear that he didn’t exactly know where he stood either. He settled for a regurgitation of the older man’s words from this morning.
“A wise man once told me you learn to live with it and find balance when you can,” Dennis recited the words and watched as Robby’s face lit up in recognition. “He uh- also told me to get to know a guy before throwing myself at him.”
Robby bent down to Dennis’s ear. “Well, you know me now, Whitaker.” Dennis shuddered at the sudden contact, and something bloomed in his stomach. Something like hope that the older man wasn’t sick of him yet. People in his life tend to do that pretty quickly.
“I’m a quick learner, what can I say?” The younger boy laughed softly. He could feel his attending eyes on his lips. He felt the warmth of Robby’s hand on his hip, slipping something into his scrub pants pocket. Dennis glanced at the man, hoping for an explanation, but Robby pulled away and cleared his throat.
“I’ve noticed. Keep up the good work, Dennis.” His attending was sincere in his words, but there was an edge of unease in his voice.
Before Dennis could begin to muster up a reply, Robby was swept off into a coding trauma, leaving Dennis alone in the somewhat vacant hallway. He took advantage of the privacy and slipped his hand into his pocket to retrieve what the older man had put into it. He found a folded slip of paper with nothing more than a phone number and “If you ever need me, call” written on it in sloppy handwriting. He smirked to himself, finding a weird sense of pleasure in the gesture. This day had tested him in almost every way, yet something about the ED kept him going. Something tall with a greying beard.
Robby had never been so thankful to be out of the confines of the hospital. The ache from his feet and back was almost enough to make him completely keel over, so he was grateful he didn’t have to walk far to the park bench. The past 15 hours had felt like the longest shift of his life, which is funny considering he had most definitely worked close to 36-hour shifts frequently as a med student.
As other staff from the day shift sat along the benches of the park just outside the hospital, Robby was glad not to be alone. He never really enjoyed being alone, even on a normal night, but tonight was far from that. Even as exhausting as it was to socialize, he knew he needed a team around him right now. He gratefully took the beer offered to him by one of the day shift RN’s, Donnie, and took a greedy swig. He made small talk with Donnie and Princess, but watched his fellow attending, Abbot, with a careful curiosity as he began to take off his prosthetic and massage his leg. Abbot was a reminder to him that, as bad off as Robby thought he had it, it could always be worse. It was a sick way to look at it, measuring other people's pain and trauma, but he couldn’t help but mentally kick himself for being so fucked up when he had never gone through something that warranted being as fucked up as he found himself to be. Jack would passionately disagree and remind Robby of the fact that the job they do would be enough to send any sane person to therapy for years. He would then suggest that Robby start therapy, to which Robby would just silently shake his head. He had run out of excuses to put off getting help a long time ago.
Robby’s attention was drawn back into the conversation as Donnie began a toast. “To the Pitt crew!” He lazily raised his beer in acknowledgement.
“To all the people we saved.” Princess chimed in.
“And the ones we couldn’t,” Jack followed. It stung a little, the reminder that while Robby was here, there were corpses likely still sitting in the pediatric room. People whom he failed to save.
Before he could envelop himself in more self-pitting thoughts, three figures approached the make-shift hangout spot. Dr. Mohan, Mateo, and Javadi joined the group, and conversation buzzed around Robby. He only chimed in when Javadi refused the beer that was offered to her, claiming she wasn’t old enough to drink it. Robby couldn’t contain his laughter at the reminder that the poor girl was not even 21 years old, and yet she had just handled one of the worst mass casualties that Pittsburgh had ever seen. Everyone looked at him like he had finally lost his mind.
“I just remembered this was your first shift!” He managed to blurt out after finally catching his breath. The others now turned their focus to the young med student with sympathetic looks. “I can almost guarantee the next shift will be easier.”
“I fucking hope so,” Javadi answered with a bit of an edge to her tone. Robby was honestly impressed by her demeanor, even more so by the fact that she was still standing on her own two feet. “At least I didn’t get kicked in the face by a psycho.”
The image of Whitaker’s bloody face in his hands flashed in his memory, and Robby went very still. It’s like he had completely forgotten that the whole rest of the ED knew the young boy. He was so lost in whatever bubble the two were constantly in, he almost choked realizing Whitaker was not only his to talk to and jostle around.
“Awwww, poor Whitaker!” Princess exclaimed. “Where is he?”
“Probably quit,” Donnie answered. Robby felt the urge to defend the man, even in his absence. After all, he knew the man better than everyone else there.
“Nah, that kid’s tough. He’ll be back.” He tried to make his statement casual, like he knew only what the others did of Whitaker. It was filled only with hope that the boy would, in fact, show up again the next day. He hadn’t really considered the fact that Whitaker might not come back, and even though he was confident that he would, the thought consumed him now. Something in the pit of his stomach made it clear that he wanted more of Whitaker.
“Wanna split this cookie with me?” Trinity asked as she made her way over to the balcony of their shared apartment. Dennis had already made himself as comfortable as the firm outdoor chairs would allow, practically in a catatonic state, reliving the events of the past 15 hours. Their balcony was kind of like his refuge after a hard day, and both of them had come to spend a lot of time together out here. It reminded him a lot of sitting under his favorite oak tree on his parents’ farm in Nebraska, even though the scenery was nothing compared to his childhood home. He just enjoyed the fresh air; being surrounded by nature had always been very calming for him.
“Dreaming of the milking machine again, are we?” Trinity waved her hand in front of his face.
“Huh- What?” Dennis flinched at the sudden disturbance of his thoughts.
“I asked if you wanted to split this cookie,” Trinity repeated. She was too tired to even follow through on her joke. Dennis already knew it was one of her weed cookies that she saved for particularly hard days or long weekends. He usually wouldn’t indulge when he knew he had work in the morning, but his self-restraint was slowly becoming nonexistent with the speed of the last two days.
“Yeah, why not. It’s not, like, super strong, is it?” Dennis cautioned. He wasn’t a complete lightweight in either the drinking or smoking department. Growing up where he did, that was practically all there was to do in high school, but he didn’t let himself do it too often after he moved away.
“You can handle it, farm boy,” Trinity deadpanned. She split the cookie, giving herself the bigger portion for Dennis's benefit, and handed it over. The mousy boy nibbled the cookie, crumbs coating his zip-up hoodie. Much like the drinks the night before, he could feel the effects almost immediately. His rapidly moving thoughts became sluggish, and he could feel the tightness in his chest relax just slightly.
“That was a really bad day, right? Like, it wasn’t normal?” Dennis muttered. Trinity was occupied with finishing off her cookie, but began to nod slowly.
“Yeah, Den, it was,” Trinity wiped the crumbs off her lap and subtly eyed Dennis so he might do the same. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m confused mostly. Conflicted might be a better word.” Dennis felt like he couldn’t piece together actual thoughts about his feelings, as his memories were clouded over now. Death weighed heavily on his shoulders, nonetheless causing even more unnamed emotions to bubble up.
“Well, it’s not every day you kiss your boss,” Trinity laughed airily at the ridiculousness of the statement. “It’s also not every day that you get a senior resident fired, so I guess we both had wild days.”
“Woah, what?” Dennis was caught off guard by his best friend's statement. Trinity just let out another airy half-laugh and shook her head. Clearly, the cookie was starting to hit her, too. Dennis shot her a concerned look and hoped she’d elaborate further without being asked.
“Langdon, he was stealing benzos from the ED, and I told Dr. Robby.” There was a harshness in Trinity’s tone, her brave face faltering. She didn’t explain further, and Dennis didn’t want to push her to. She didn’t open up very much, so he usually stayed quiet when she did.
“You did a good thing, Trin. He needed help more than anything. I know that’s why you did it,” Dennis replied. He wasn’t sure that it helped her any, but he hoped it did.
After a moment of silence, Dennis looked over to see Trinity’s eyes closed, slowly rocking herself. She began to hum an unfamiliar melody in a beautifully gentle voice. The boy shut his eyes too and found himself being lulled to sleep by his best friend. He was eternally grateful he had her, and somewhere deep down, he knew she felt the same.
Notes: Miss Me? I AM SOOOO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I have been in a big slump as of late and couldn't write anything. Anyways I hope you enjoy nonetheless. I plan on posting this to AO3 soon but I think i'm still going to post them here for thoes who cant access AO3.
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