Jack and Robby having a Christina Yang and Preston Burke dynamic. Walk with me.
It starts off in med school. First class and Robby—the Michael—is a beacon of spite, ambition, and excellence. Best notes, always early, already trying to figure out which doctors to shadow. Utterly untouchable. Enter Jack, already a commissioned officer and paying for med school with time. He sees Michael and has him figured out in ten seconds flat. He knows the difference between drive and desperation. They’re assigned a project together and he can already see Michael bracing to do all the work. He knows he would. All those fancy scholarships depend on an astronomical gpa and evidence of research.
Jack pulls his weight and then some. Sure it’s partially because he has his own commitments but also because he won’t be able to see those soulful brown eyes if they’re always in a book.
From then on they’re both gone for each other. Fully and truly. Two and a half years of commiseration and library trysts and moving into a shitty apartment second semester of freshman year.
It’s not that Jack didn’t consider the future; he just kept filing it away for later.
Then Mikey started talking about after school. About applying to residency at a military hospital so that it’ll be easier to follow Jack. He even threw out joining MSF once he’s a full doctor. Willing to go to hell with Jack. When he found the emails where Robby was inquiring about joining he had to face reality. Michael was serious. Life changing, sacrificial serious.
And he can’t let that happen.
Mikey is sweet and compassionate and tender and at heart a teacher. He hates the military. He’s one of the stubbornest bastards out there that cling to his principles even when they become inconvenient especially then. Robby’s brilliant and can easily get into any ED residency he wants—Jack’s seen the amount of emails from visiting doctors and how much the attending rave about him. He could do anything. And all that’s at risk because of what? Jack? The kid who’s signed his life away for more than a decade and has a significantly higher than zero chance of dying? He’s willing to compromise his future and principles for that?
He’s not fucking proud of what he does. It would’ve been better if it was impulsive. But requesting a med school transfer in the middle of Junior year takes paperwork and time and pleading.
Mikey’s going back to Pittsburgh for the winter holiday and Jack pretends he’s going to Wyoming to see his family.
Mikey comes back to a half of a home and a letter that’s too cowardly to confess anything except that Jack cared.
They really expected that to be the end. Even when Facebook and Google and all the other things that make finding people easy came out neither so much as type in the other’s name.
Robby never did take the ultra prestigious positions offered to him. Instead going to Charity and staying until there was nothing left. Then joining MSF for two years before settling in Pittsburgh to wait out the last few years of his grandmother’s life.
Jack meets Charlotte while stationed at Walter Reid, between his second and third tour. She’s a JAG that knew exactly how good she is. He fears he might have a type. He weasels his way into her heart through demonstrations of absolute devotion and adoration. She loves him enough to not try to stop him from going back.
Then his leg is gone and Charlotte makes damn sure the Army gives him everything he’s due. A force of nature masquerading in a dress uniform and thorough contract comprehension.
He retired and suffers as a VA attending. She stays in until her father passes away. There’s nothing quite like death that makes you reevaluate.
Her family’s from Pittsburgh. He really does have a Goddamn type.
He applies to PTMC because it’s the best tier one in the state and he’s certain he can get attending in a couple years.
Then. Michael.
Older, scruffier, still as magnetic and beautiful as he remembers. Already an attending and heir apparent to the whole damn department at forty. The students worship him, the nurses are protective, and Jack really should just quit now.
They work their first trauma together and Jack could get fucking high from this. This dangerous, dangerous thing. Because back then he knew the potential, the burning promise of in the future. Mikey Robby still unsure and untested but brilliant who only needed some direction. Here and now he sees a man who’s lived, learned, and fucking grew. Who moves with the assuredness of someone who’s actions are proof enough.
Outside of traumas Mikey Robby avoids him and he does the same. It’s effective and Jack would like for this to continue until one or both of them are force out—probably because they’re dead or the board decides they’re too expensive.
He’s counting on Robby’s avoidant nature—something he tried to fix back then; thank fuck he never could—to keep this ceasefire.
It’s unfortunate that Robby knows him. Knows Jack Abbot doesn’t avoid shit.
He also knows Jack liked to go on the roof to think.
It’s after a double about five months into the job. Robby finds him up there and bores holes into the back of his head. Jack’s gotten better at keeping his mouth shut. He lasts for all of three minutes.
“What’s the matter boss?”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re the one using Dana as a scapegoat to not talk to me about cases.”
“You literally threw yourself out of the locker room when I came in.”
Well that’s a bit dramatic.
Jack wonders how long they can keep this up. It’s a demonstration that Robby and Mikey aren’t entirely the same because Robby says, “You aren’t the one that does this shit Jack.”
Well. That’s not strictly true.
Jack thinks his silence lands how it needs to.
“Listen. I. You.” He hears Robby let out a sigh that somehow verbalizes a two decades of grievances. “It’s not like we have to be buddy buddy. I just don’t understand why you’re acting like the one who was wronged.”
Oh, there’s bite to that.
Jack’s tempted to escalate. It would buy him time. Maybe it would finally make Michael despise him enough to never want to look at him again.
“If this is about my professionalism—” It’s a cheap deflection and they both know it.
“This is about you acting like I have the fucking plague.” There’s a heavy pause and Jack can practically see Robby run his hands through his hair. A self soothing tactic he used to love to do for Mikey. “You. I was fine not having a fucking answer. But here you are acting like I don’t exist and don’t you think I deserve to know why? What did I do?”
The last question sounds off. It sounds young and raw and not entirely about Jack. He finally turns around to see an exhausted Robby. Staring at him not in anger—that would be bearable—but hurt and desperation. Like a child who’s trying to negotiate with forces so far beyond their control or comprehension.
Jack wants to hug him.
“Fuck. Was it—was I too needy? Did I go too fast?” He watches Robby crumble into himself, unjustly haunted by phantom crimes. His eyes snap back into clarity. “I know you’re married now. I wouldn’t dare. If it’s because you’re feeling uncomfortable—“
“It’s not that.” Jack snaps, sounding more like a cages animal than a threat.
He stares at Robby who, through this entire breakdown, doesn’t have shaky hands.
Robby. Michael. God Jack wishes. But he made his choices, said his vows. And he’s happy with them.
“It wasn’t anything you did.” He reassures softly. Not making any move towards Robby. “I just couldn’t stand the idea of destroying yourself for me.”
That got a scoff. “I wasn’t going to—“
“I saw the emails from recruiters.” He huffs incredulously. “I know for a fact you hated the military and everything it stood for. We used to joke about you being a plant to get me to defect.”
He doesn’t offer any rebuttal.
“You’d change Michael. Fuck knows I did and that was before the leg.” Jack vaguely gestures. “And I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t be the cause.”
“So what? You abandoning me was you being noble.”
“I was a coward.” He freely admits. “I was selfish and I didn’t want to see the fallout.”
I’m sorry feels far too small. “I don’t deserve anything from you.”
“Damn right.” Robby narrows his eyes and Jack sees him register the apology. “So all this.” He flails his right hand between them. “What the fuck is that about?”
Jack’s about to open his mouth to obfuscate and Robby must sense it because he adds, “I know damn well it’s not about respecting my space or any of that shit.” He takes a step forward and points at him. “I know you Jack Matthew Abbot. I know you don’t just let things lie. Especially when you feel like you have to right a wrong. So either you’re lying about feeling bad or there’s something else.”
Jack chews his lip slightly.
Robby glares. “You don’t want anything to do with me? Fine.”
He about to turn and leave when Jack says, “I can’t be near you.”
Robby raises an eyebrow.
“I can’t—I love Charlotte. I’ve loved her for longer than I’ve known you.” Robby blinks but doesn’t seem hurt by the words. “I love her. She’s, God, she’s seen me through hell.”
Because Robby’s anything but dull he figures it out. The glare turns to one of offense. “I told you I’d never—”
“But I would.” Getting his leg blown off hurt less. “It wouldn’t be today or tomorrow or a month or a year. But it would happen. And it wouldn’t be your fault. You wouldn’t do anything Robby.” He stares at the man, his brown eyes hooded with confusion and horror. “But I can feel it. If I don’t stay away I will fall and blow up my life and maybe yours. And I won’t do that Robby. I won’t let that happen.”
Robby stiffens and nods. Hearing the plea. His face smooths over to a serious but professional one. Something he would have when talking to a colleague he’s not familiar with. No trace of Mikey, no way of knowing what he’s feeling.
Jack’s struck by the loss. Realizing in full force that he no longer knows Michael Robinavitch. Not completely, not anymore. Or maybe he does. Maybe he can drag out the Mikey that used to study on the floor because somehow their makeshift dining table can’t contain all the papers he used; just as Michael can certainly drag out the Jack that was willing to risk getting cause and court-martialed if it meant holding him and dancing in the street light.
Maybe he needs this cauterization just as much as Jack.
“I’ll talk to Adamson about you moving to nights.”
Hardly an olive branch or reconciliation. Just what it is necessary.
