Chapter Text
“Langdon, you seen Abbot leave yet?” Robby called out, glancing over at Frank as he updated the board.
“No, Robinavitch,” Frank replied without looking up. “I haven’t seen your husband leave to sleep in your marital bed without you.”
Robby sighed, snapping off his gloves as he sidled over to Dana.
“I’m going to have to drag him home at this rate,” he muttered.
Dana didn’t even look sympathetic. She just rolled her eyes and pointed toward the elevators. “Go and fetch him,” she said. “Now, Doctor.”
Robby scanned the floor out of habit. Everyone was still breathing. No alarms screaming. No one actively dying.
He grabbed his hoodie from the back of a chair and headed for the lift.
It didn’t take long to find the kid’s room. He’d already been up once, an hour or so after handover. But it was past lunchtime now, and Robby knew Jack was still in there.
He knocked softly and pushed the door open.
And his heart promptly split clean in two.
The kid was sitting upright in bed, free hand scrolling carefully through Jack’s tablet. Jack himself was slumped back in the chair beside him, fast asleep, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. The teenager’s blanket had been tugged halfway off the bed and draped poorly over the both of them. It was clear the kid had tried and failed to make it cover the sleeping man.
Robby swallowed.
“He been asleep long?” he asked quietly.
Wide blue eyes snapped up to meet his, and the kid gave his head a shake.
Robby walked over to a cabinet in the room, pulling out a spare blanket. He slowly removed the one hanging over Jack and tucked the kid back in, before taking the spare and covering his husband again.
Looking at the table rolled over the kid’s lap, he could see Jack’s scrawled handwriting and rudimentary drawings. Demonstrating the structure of the brain, and the different neurons. Class had certainly been in session. On the tablet, Robby could see the kid looking at his own CT scan.
“Jack’s a good teacher” Robby commented flippantly, thumbing through the drawings.
He didn’t expect a verbal response, and he didn’t get one.
“You comfortable kid? In any pain?” he asked, giving the teenager a once over, “I can ask the nurses to give you some more morphine if you need it.” God knew he would. Even just the tongue would’ve taken Robby out. Never mind the arm. Never mind the EEG pads glued on with what he knew felt like industrial adhesive.
Yet, the kid shook his head.
Robby huffed a quiet laugh. “Alright. Tough stuff, then.” He crossed his arms loosely. “Though I’m guessing those EEG pads are itching like hell?”
The kid didn’t nod, but he flushed bright red and dropped his gaze.
Robby waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I know the score, Sheyfele. No need to be shy about it.” He smiled. “I’ll get someone to bring some anti-itch cream. Should make it a bit more bearable.”
Before the kid could respond, Jack shifted in the chair and let out a groan.
“Michael,” he mumbled, scrubbing a hand down his face before stretching. “Are you tormenting him already?”
Robby sniffed, mock-offended. “I know you are not accusing me of such things, Abbot. I would never.”
Jack laughed unabashedly, carefully standing up. He only let out a small groan of discomfort, but Robby bet he would feel the consequences of falling asleep in the chair later.
“Alright, kid,” Jack said, softer now, his tone apologetic. “I’ve gotta run. I don’t think Dr. Robby’s going to leave until I go home and actually get some sleep.” He slid the tablet gently from the kid’s hands but left the paper on the table.
Robby gave him a light shove, scowling. “Don’t make me out to be the villain here, Abbot. You can come back after. Besides,” he added, glancing at the kid, “I’ll make sure someone’s around to look after him while you’re gone.”
The teenager surprised them both by letting out a tiny laugh.
Jack beamed.
“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Yeah, I’ll come back later.” He glanced down again at the drawings. “We can finish our lesson?”
The kid nodded eagerly. Then, lifting his right hand, he gave a small wave before carefully signing.
J A
Goodbye, Jack Abbot.
Robby felt something swell sharp and sudden in his chest. One look at his husband told him Jack had all but melted where he stood.
The kid waved to Robby too, albeit shyer.
Robby turned toward the door, jaw tightening.
He was going to fucking kill that social worker.
-
Dennis appreciated that Phoebe at least had the dignity to look guilty.
He’d trusted her at the police station, and there was nothing he hated more than an empty promise. Even though Dennis knew she wasn’t directly to blame for him ending up in the hospital, he couldn’t help thinking that if she’d just visited him at the group home, just once, he might have confided in her. Even just a little.
She sat near his bed now, sheepish, scribbling notes into that stupid oversized folder like it might absolve her. She hadn’t tried to engage him in conversation so far, beyond an awkward apology when she’d entered the room.
Dennis had taken one look at her, then turned carefully onto his side, angling himself toward his injured arm. He closed his eyes after that, focusing instead on the steady beeping of the monitors and the relentless buzz of the strip lights overhead. Anything was better than Phoebe and her dumb questions. No, he wasn’t going to tell her where he was from. No, he wasn’t going to admit why they abandoned him.
He’d started to feel a little better that afternoon. Dr. Robby, true to his word, had sent a nurse with anti-itch cream for the adhesive holding the EEG pads in place. The relief had been immediate, loosening some of the tension he’d kept wound tight in his chest since waking up.
He missed Jack already. He’d only known him for a day, yet he could tell that if he were here, he would have told Phoebe to fuck off around half an hour ago. It was a selfish thought, but Dennis couldn’t help the way it gnawed at him.
“Kid, please just give me something.” She begged as Dennis half-heartedly listened to her drone on.
“I have absolutely nothing about you at the moment,” her hand reached out to touch Dennis’s shoulder, and he flinched so hard he scared himself a little. She retracted her hand but carried on talking. “I can’t help you, if I don’t know what’s going on.” She was really starting to get under Dennis’s skin.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get you examined when we met, I’m sorry I didn’t come and see you. Okay. I’m sorry.” She rambled, for a second Dennis was unsure if she was going to start crying.
If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them
The verse rattled around in Dennis’s brain, Phoebe was just as much a sinner as he was. She knew what needed to be done and didn’t. Much like Dennis, which was how he wound up in this situation in the first place.
Phoebe cleared her throat again, the sound sharp in the too-quiet room.
“Kid,” she tried, softer now, like that might help. “I just need something to put in the file. Anything. A name. A town. A relative?”
Dennis kept his eyes closed.
Jack hadn’t needed a name.
Phoebe sighed, the chair creaking as she shifted closer.
“I can’t protect you if I don’t know what I’m working with,” she said.
Protect. Dennis swallowed, the pull in his tongue sharp and angry.
Phoebe’s pen paused. “Are you even listening to me?”
Dennis opened his eyes just long enough to glance at her, then past her- to the door.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Phoebe added quickly. “I’m on your side.”
Dennis thought of Jack’s hands, warm and steady, pulling his fingers away from the EEG wire without snapping, without panic.
Phoebe waited a few seconds longer, then exhaled hard through her nose. “Okay,” she said, already writing something down. “Okay. I’ll come back later.”
The chair scraped back. The door opened.
Dennis didn’t watch her leave.
He stared at the empty space beside the bed instead, where Jack’s chair had been. Dennis’s blanket had slipped down off his shoulders since Dr. Robby had placed it back over him, and he felt too weak now to even try lifting it back up.
He wondered distantly, if Phoebe had noticed.
-
“I can’t help him if he won’t tell me anything,” Phoebe insisted, folding her arms tight across her chest. She stood stiffly, almost shrinking back from Robby and Kiara.
“Are the police not investigating?” Kiara countered calmly. “He is technically a missing child. We can’t simply accept that he’s a ward of the state without due process.”
“Well, he told me at the police station that his parents abandoned him,” Phoebe sniffed.
“He is fifteen years old,” Robby snapped. The words tore out of him, sharp and uncontrolled. “For all we know, he ran from home, broke his arm, and was too scared to go back.”
His chest felt tight, breath coming shallow. The anger burned so hot it felt like it had settled into his bones.
Phoebe scoffed. “The priest he spoke to said the boy admitted he was cast out, for bringing bad luck to his family farm. A sickness…” she paused, lips curling. “Which I think we can now make an educated guess about.”
Robby turned away before he said something unforgivable. He shut his eyes, breathing slowly through his nose. Somewhere behind him, Kiara was still speaking, her voice clipped and professional as she addressed Phoebe.
“All I can do is request a police investigation and wait for their findings,” Phoebe continued. “Until then, he’ll remain in the group home.”
That did it.
“Absolutely not,” Robby barked, spinning back around. “They do not have the medical knowledge to care for that kid. They didn’t even notice a catastrophic arm fracture.” he cut his eyes to Phoebe, voice dropping darkly, “-much like you, I guess.”
Phoebe stiffened, but Robby barrelled on.
“They won’t recognise pre-ictal symptoms. They won’t know how to intervene if he seizes again. His arm will be fragile for months, even after the cast comes off. He’ll need intensive physiotherapy and psychological support. That placement is not safe.”
“Dr. Robinavitch,” Phoebe began coolly, brushing past the insult. “With all due respect, this is not your decision. You are not his attending physician, and frankly, I’m extending a courtesy by including you in this discussion at all.”
“Enough,” Kiara cut in sharply.
She stepped closer, her hand firm on Robby’s bicep. Down boy, Robby thought callously.
“That’s enough. Take a walk, Robby. We’ll discuss this later.”
The finality in her voice left no room for argument.
Robby opened his mouth anyway.
“Dr. Robby! Incoming trauma, need you over here please!” a voice called from across the ED.
His mouth snapped shut.
With a sharp exhale, he turned away. Biting down a childish comment like, you haven’t seen the last of me!
It was dumb, and he should be more mature but. Fuck.
Although, he was unable to stop the venomous glare he shot Phoebe’s direction before stalking back towards the trauma bay.
-
Jack didn’t think he’d gone overboard.
But when he presented the booklets, a folder and sheets to the kid that evening, an hour before his shift started, he began to doubt himself.
“So, this is information about the cage itself, and how the idea first came about, how it’s practically implemented.” He started, lifting the booklet he’d printed out at home to the top of the pile.
“I also printed out some of the slices from your CT scan and annotated it, so you can see what we were talking about earlier, hope it makes sense” he remarked, a tiny bit self-conscious.
The kid was just staring up at him, wide eyed. He flicked through the materials on the table, carefully assessing each one, before selecting a guide Jack had picked up from the medical library that afternoon.
Rehabilitation guide for Radius and Ulna
Jack smiled and took it from the kid’s hand, easing himself down into the chair beside the bed.
“Good pick,” he said, a little softer. “That one’s pretty no-nonsense.”
They sat for a while, Jack talking through the booklet, demonstrating the exercises himself. The kid was like a sponge, giving Jack rapt attention and nodding along, or offering a confusion expression, silently asking for a further explanation.
Once they’d finished the booklet, Jack felt a bit of courage spike in his voice.
“Didn’t have much medicine like this where you’re from I guess.” He said, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible. He was definitely poking the bear here.
For a moment, the kid considered the question, pensive. It made his face look momentarily older than his fifteen years. But he offered Jack a nod, confirming his theory.
“When I was in the army, on a couple tours we were based near local villages. The medicine was very rudimentary. People often died from very simple problems or were left disabled by things that in most first world countries, could have been fixed completely.” Jack paused, making sure the kid was following. Of course, he was.
“I used to try and teach some first aid classes, give them some knowledge they could pass onto each other. Some of those people didn’t want to hear, because they said their God provided healing, and man’s hands were supposed to pray, not provide medicine. Does that sound familiar?”
Now Jack really knew he was pushing his luck. But sue him, he thought he’d done enough to earn a little bit of trust. He was absolutely going out on a limb and making some big assumptions. However, it didn’t take an idiot to think that was probably the case. He’d heard Kiara saying about the fact it was a priest who handed him over to the police, the kid had turned up asking for forgiveness.
He was about to change the subject, probably tried to push the kid too far.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest”
The kid’s voice was quiet and scratchy, the words slightly muffled by the swelling in his tongue. But it was there.
Jack went very still.
Not because he was startled. He had half-hoped, half-expected something.
“That’s Matthew,” Jack said after a beat. “Eleven. Twenty-eight.”
The kid’s eyes flicked up, surprised.
Jack offered a small shrug. “My grandmother quoted it a lot. Different reasons, I think.”
He watched as the kid swallowed, wincing faintly, then looked back down at the booklet in his lap. His fingers tightened around the edge.
“They said…” His voice faltered, raspier this time. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I lived in sin, I had to repent. That's why I was sick.”
Jack nodded once. He couldn’t argue with the kid.
“Some people believe that” he said carefully. “And for some of them, it helps. Gives meaning where there isn’t much else.”
“And you?” the kid replied.
Jack leaned back in the chair, folding his hands loosely. “I think bodies fail us sometimes,” he said simply. “And they misfire… Don’t get me wrong, sometimes they do heal themselves. Especially when they’re young and springy like yours” he gave the kid a smile which was half returned.
“I don’t think that makes you weak. Or sinful. Or undeserving kid.”
“My name’s Dennis.” The kid, sorry, Dennis, replied.
“Okay then, Dennis” Jack held up his right hand, palm facing outward. He extended his index finger straight up, and curled his middle, ring and pinky fingers down to touch the tip of his thumb, forming a circle like shape.
D
Dennis blushed slightly and copied the gesture.
“Guessing that’s my initial,” he responded bashfully.
“Yep,” Jack responded with a bright smile, “now I can ask for you.”
-
By the time Robby saw Jack slip back down to the ED from his pre-shift visit with the kid, he nearly cried with relief. He’d been thoroughly dysregulated ever since the conversation with the social worker. Snapping at coworkers, unable to drag his thoughts away from the teenager upstairs.
“Brother, I am so fucking glad to see you,” he breathed, before he could stop himself, wrapping Jack in a tight hug.
“Hey, hey,” Jack murmured, pulling back just enough to cup Robby’s jaw in his hand. “You okay, Misha?”
The concern in his voice was palpable. Robby’s eyes burned.
“Come on,” Jack said quietly, sliding an arm to the small of Robby’s back. “Let’s go.”
They took the lift as high as it would go, then ascended the stairs, emerging onto the roof.
“You wanna tell me what happened?” Jack probed, leaning against the railing.
Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, the frustration and agitation from the afternoon bubbling up.
“Social worker came this afternoon. She-”
He bit down hard on the rest.
“Ah,” Jack said, already understanding, stepping closer until their sides pressed together.
“And I thought I was the protective one,” he added lightly, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
Robby bumped him with his hip. “Yeah, yeah. Guilty.”
“Guessing she wants to send him back to the group home?” Jack questioned, tone sobering at the thought.
Robby nodded.
“Fuck,” Jack muttered, rocking back and lacing his hands behind his head. Then, more firmly, “No. He can’t go back there, Mike. I knew they would pull some bullshit like this”
“I know,” Robby said, frustration bleeding through. “I tried. Kiara shut it down- said we’d revisit it tomorrow.”
He hesitated. “It… got heated.”
“Yeah, I fuckin’ bet it did. I would have had to have been dragged away.” Jack joked, trying to break the tension.
They were quiet for a moment.
“I can practically hear what you’re thinking Abbot.” Robby commented, looking at the steely gaze in Jack’s eyes.
“We have a spare room.” He replied quietly, taking Robby’s hand in his own.
“And we’re not foster certified. We’re horribly selfish doctors who work opposite shifts.” Robby countered.
“Which means there’s always someone who would be at home with him.” Jack shrugged.
Robby tried to rebuff the comment, but he knew Jack was right. They’d discussed children once or twice, but it was always quashed down by their love of the Pitt.
“Just think about it tonight, Mike, I won’t ask you for an answer just now. Just, think about it.” Jack offered.
Robby smiled, kissing Jack gently. “I’ll think about it.”
The two of them leaned over the railings again.
“His name is Dennis,” Jack said quietly, sinking into Robby’s side.
Robby looked down at Jack, incredulous. “He spoke to you?”
“He spoke to me,” Jack replied, faintly pink cheeked.
“Why have you always gotta be the favourite Abbot.” Robby joked, wrapping his arm around his husband’s shoulders.
Not that he could blame the kid.
Jack was his favourite too.