(Robby x intern reader) Part 3
Part 1 | Part 2 | Series Masterlist
Hey guys!!! The love from parts 1 and 2 have absolutely blown me away. Thank you so much for being so supportive and awesome!!!! Also I feel like an unc but that poll I posted for the tag list doesn’t tell me who voted it just tells me the amount of votes 🤦♀️. I was only able to tag the people the commented on any posts 😭. Please comment or msg me if you guys want to be tagged!!
Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, Robby and reader are giving that picture of MerDer in the banner at one point, violence against healthcare workers, victim blaming, language
The hours following the attack dragged on for what felt like forever. Although you got cleared by radiology pretty quickly, Robby insisted that you pack up and go home less than halfway through the shift.You dragged your feet, feeling like a colossal shit for abandoning the ship. And with no other doctor coming in, they were going to be short for the rest of the shift.
You managed to trudge your way through the sticky heat of Pittsburgh. The three blocks to your apartment felt like a three day voyage. Only the thoughts of a half-eaten pint of coffee bean ice cream and bad reality tv fueled you to actually walk up the steps and unlock your house.
It was the size of a small closet, with one bedroom, bathroom and a little kitchen. You tried your hardest to keep it tidy but your lack of motivation coupled with the fact that you were never home fought back hard and won the fight. You grabbed the slightly freezer-burned pint and plopped down into the worn brown couch that sat in the middle of the living area. The remote rested on its usual place on the coffee table but it felt too far away to reach. Instead you resigned yourself to scraping at the chalky ice cream with the only clean spoon in your flat.
The sound of your phone startled you out of your disassociative state. You weren’t expecting anyone to check up on you. When the hospital intook you as a patient, you ensured that neither of your parents would be notified of this unfortunate accident. They had never particularly cared about your wellbeing and were incredibly disappointed that you went through medical school to pick Emergency Medicine as your career of choice.
“You could’ve been a surgeon, darling. It’s so much more respectable.” Your mother’s words echoed in your brain as you glanced down at your phone.
Dr.Robby: Checking in. How are you doing?
You: i’m fine! are you sure you don’t need another set of hands in the ED?
You: i know no one could come in for me and i really was cleared to work again today.
Dr.Robby: That is out of the question. Stay home all day today. I want you to stay home tomorrow as well but Gloria is demanding an interview to go over the incident.
You: oh, i didn’t know that i needed to do that 🙁
Dr.Robby: Don’t worry. It’s a very routine procedure. She just needs you to answer some questions. I can be in there if you would like.
The offer catches you off guard. The spoon of cold ice cream almost falls into your lap as you jaw drops. Maybe it's something that he says to all of his injured employees. Knowing from personal experience, it sucks ass to get abused in your place of work.
He’s being a good department head, you tell yourself scoldingly, embarrassed that the idea of him wanting to take care of you even crossed your mind.
You: i wouldn’t want you to leave the ER high and dry
Dr.Robby: They can do without me for an hour.
Across the city, Robby sat at his desk at the nurses station. The thirty-five unlocked charts mocked him from the computer screen while he was trying to find something else to text you to keep the conversation alive. The truth was that he had never offered his stoic support to anyone going through Gloria’s employer question before. He didn’t even know why he offered it to you. His fingers were running across the keyboard, eager to hear your voice, even if it was through text. And then the message was sent.
He sighed and looked up at his screen. His residents were running amok in the ER and he couldn’t begin to care less. Mohan looked at him like he’d grown three heads when he approved her request for a spinal tap on a relatively healthy twenty-three year old with a weird scaly rash.
“Robby get off your goddamn phone and help out here,” Dana hollered across the room, “we’ve got a pedestrian vs car accident 5 minutes out.”
Before he could take another peek at his screen to see a text from you, Dana threw a pair of large gloves at his head that he caught by the slightest grip of his fingertips. And then he started walking off to the trauma bay, almost missing the soft whoosh from his phone.
You: thank you for the offer, but i think it’ll be okay ☺️
The collar of your white button down shirt felt like a noose around your throat. You kept tugging at it to create more room between the fabric and your skin. It wasn't routine for you to show up to the hospital in anything other than a hoodie which you later would exchange with scrubs from the dispenser.
An odd calm had taken over the ER since the last time you stepped foot inside. No ambulance sirens ringing. No shrieking from the psych hold patients. No rushing of the staff to tend to the next emergent procedure. Even the chairs looked emptier than usual. You should’ve known that the quiet of the ER was probably a bad sign. But it didn’t really matter to you. In fact you appreciated it more than ever now that you had given Robby the green light to abandon the shift for you.
Shortly after your text thread with him, Gloria sent out a notification requesting your presence in the Human Resources office. You made your way up, knowing that the hospital committee was waiting for you.
The immediate request didn’t catch you off guard, but you thought it was odd that they didn’t begin with the normal business-world niceties. You took a seat on the hard-back wooden chair across the table from Gloria and two other people that you had never seen before. .
“How are you doing after yesterday?” The question comes from Gloria. You look up at her. The blank expression on her face almost cracks when she lays eyes on the thick black sutures on your cheek and the ugly dark purple bruising around your nose.
“I’m a little shaken up, but other than that good. Ready to get back to work!” You muster up.
“That’s what we like to hear. So I know the police questioned you yesterday and took down your statement. They are currently operating under the assumption that you will be pressing charges, is that correct?”
“We need to discuss this issue further.”
Your eyebrows crinkle with confusion. Gloria continues.
“The police state that the patient was severely under the influence with a blood alcohol level of .12%. Were you not able to recognize that?”
You’re stunned. The conversation feels like it’s pulling away from you. They’re pulling the rug from underneath your feet while you have crutches and two broken legs.
“Well um-, I didn’t think about that. He was alert and oriented when the nursing staff did the wound care and prepped him for the sutures. I just thought I needed to place his sutures and then wait for further orders.”
“Did you not investigate what made him obtain the injury?”
“He wasn’t my patient. I was just there to place the sutures while the other residents were busy.”
“You didn’t review the chart with his lab results?”
“No, I mean, I just looked at the picture in the chart and went to stitch it up.” You try swallowing the pooling saliva in your mouth to help ease the lump in your throat.
“Were you not able to smell the alcohol on him in such close proximity?” This question came from one of the others.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that he was intoxicated. I was just focused on completing my task.”
“Did you do anything to provoke him?”
All the blood in your body rushes to your head. Your fingertips start to numb up. You stare at them in disbelief more than anger. A patient had attacked you. Stripped you of what it meant to feel safe while doing your job.
“Why don’t you call security?”
“Sometimes patients, especially intoxicated ones, can mistake friendliness for something more. You should take care next time.
“We don’t recommend that you press charges. You’ve only been in residency for a month. The other lawyers can easily make the case that this situation could’ve been avoided if you didn’t miss the BAC as well as tools on how to de-escalate tension properly.”
They talk at you for the rest of the meeting. Citing a multitude of reasons as to why it would be difficult to get the hospital's legal team involved and how it would be so much easier if you were agreeable and aware of all outcomes. A stack of papers is slid over the desk to you.
You finally croak out, “what is this?”
“It’s just a list of forms stating that you agree to everything that we said during this meeting.”
You pick up the pen. The signature is shaky at best and illegible at worst. You slide it back and get up from the chair. Knees almost buckling from being clenched with anxiety for so long.
You finally make it out of the room and across the hallway. Tucked away in the corner there’s not a chance that anyone would find you there. In the protection of privacy you stop holding it together.
Your chest heaves, trying to cave in on itself. Breaths come out like the short puffs of ignition from a burnt out car. All the pent up adrenaline rushes out of your body as you pressing your forehead against the prickly stucco. Hoping that the pinpricks of pain would stop you from breaking down.
A sob breaks free. Loud and humiliating.
And then you hear quick footsteps. You look up with tears in your eyes.
It’s Robby. He reaches out to you but you flinch back into the drywall before you could stop yourself.
You turn to face him, unable to keep the tears from flowing for much longer. “They- they kept asking what I did wrong Dr.Robby. Like I wanted to let him-“
“Motherfucker” the curse shoots out under his breath, filled with venom.
“They had no fucking right to do that.” The muscle in his jaw popping out with the fury coursing through his veins.
Your knees finally give out.
His firm arms steady you immediately before you can hit the floor. Both of you freeze. The only sounds are your quick breaths in rhythm with each other.
He exhales, sharp and controlled, and one hand tightens around your shoulders while the other wraps around your back to pull you closer to his chest.
Your sobs rip out of you. Against your will. Finally feeling safe enough to, in his embrace. Your wet face is pressed into his jacket and fat tears stain it while your hands fist into the fabric. He has one hand stroking your back while whispering soft words into your ear.
“You did everything right. You were just doing your job.”
Your hands tighten around the coat at his statement. He didn’t say it in a way that was trying to make you believe. He said it as a fact. With as much certainty as the sky is blue. He said it with the conviction that you lost as soon as they started to question your integrity.
He pulls you closer. Like he’s afraid that you might disappear if he lets go. And you just might. His chin rests on the top of your head. You can feel the warmth of his breath at your hairline.
He holds you. He holds you until you can finally hold yourself again, and even more for good measure. And for the first time in your life you feel true comfort.
Your breathing starts to slow, mimicking the pace of his. Your once broken sobs quiet down to little hiccups. You tilt your head up to look at him and suddenly you're aware of everything. The bob of his Adams apple with every swallow. The strength that he carries everywhere, but especially his jaw. The heat of his body on yours.
Robby notices the hitch in your eyes. He tightens in hold imperceptibly. Unknowingly. And then he loosens, forcing himself to practice restraint. Your faces are inches apart. Synced breaths mixing together in the small silver of space between. His eyes are dark and burning with something more than rage against the hospital administration.
“Not now,” his voice is like sandpaper, “not like this”
“It’s going to hurt worse later than if we just waited.”
“It hurts already. I promise it won’t make it worse.”
He looks down at you. The want in your eyes almost makes him give in, but the pain he notices in them strengthens his resolve. He lets go of you. Untangling his hands from your body and his presence from your soul.
“Don’t go” your voice cracks.
“I’m not going anywhere, but we can’t do this right at this moment .” He notices your lips start to tremble. “I don’t want to be something that causes you more pain sweetheart.”
“Go home, get some rest. I’m going to find you coverage for the next day.”
“It’s non-negotiable. I also need the time to have a discussion with the admin about their behavior towards my people.”
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