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Chapter Text

The Pitt was quiet in that way it only got after midnight. The shift had thinned down to a skeleton crew; the hall lights were dimmed to save electricity, and the hum of machines replaced the usual shouting matches of the day shift. Even the waiting room was empty, chairs lined up like sentinels in the dark.

Jack Abbot wasn’t fooled. Quiet never lasted. Quiet was just the calm before the flood.

But for now, he leaned against the nurses’ station, scribbling half-legible notes in a chart, trying to ignore the faint ache in his thigh where the prosthetic met scar tissue. Dana was buried in paperwork across from him, her glasses perched low on her nose. Princess had disappeared into the supply room, no doubt hunting snacks. And Robby—

Jack’s eyes flicked up.

Robby was at the end of the counter, trying to log vitals into the computer, his curls a messy halo in the fluorescent light. His hands trembled as they typed, his posture folded inward like a man twice his age. Even from across the room, Jack could see the sheen of sweat along his temple.

Jack’s gut tightened. He knew the look.

“Robby,” he called casually. “When’s the last time you sat down?”

“I’m fine,” Robby said quickly, without looking up.

Which was, of course, the clearest sign that he was not fine.

Jack pushed off the counter, limping over with his easy, lopsided stride. Up close, the signs were worseflushed cheeks, glassy eyes, that tremor running through him like an electric current. And when Jack’s hand brushed his wrist—just lightly, just enough to ground him—his skin was ice-cold despite the fever heat rolling off him.

“Jesus, Robby,” Jack muttered, frowning. “You’re burning up.”

Robby shook his head, swaying just a little. “Just tired. Long shift. I can finish this and then—”

Jack slid the chart out from under his hands and closed the computer screen with one firm tap. “Nope. You’re done. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not my doctor,” Robby mumbled, but his knees were wobbling.

Jack caught him before he could pitch forward, one arm steady around his waist. “Good thing, or I’d be yelling at you for malpractice. You’re a fever away from face-planting into the keyboard.”

Dana looked up, already on alert. “What’s going on?”

“Cap’s cooking from the inside out,” Jack said. “I’m getting him off the floor.”

Robby weakly protested, “I can still—”

“Nope,” Dana interrupted, waving them off. “Go. I’ve got the floor covered. Princess!”

“Yeah?” came a muffled voice from the supply room.

“Our boy’s sick. Try not to eat all the crackers before I come in there.”

Jack chuckled under his breath, steering Robby down the hall toward the on-call room. Robby leaned heavily into him, his pride shrinking as the fever took over. His curls stuck damply to his forehead, and every time he shivered, Jack’s chest squeezed tighter.

Inside the on-call room, Jack maneuvered him onto the narrow bed, sitting him down gently like he might break. He tugged off Robby’s coat and draped it over the chair, then crouched to unlace his shoes.

“You don’t have to—” Robby started.

“Shut up and let me undress you,” Jack said lightly, smirking up at him. “Been waiting months for the excuse.”

Robby groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re sick,” Jack shot back. He pulled off the shoes, set them neatly aside, then reached for the thin blanket folded at the foot of the bed. “Cold hands, warm heart, right? Let’s fix both.”

He bundled Robby up carefully, tucking the blanket around his shoulders, his chest, even his feet. Robby shivered under the touch, but leaned into it, his body pliant with exhaustion.

Jack perched on the edge of the bed, brushing curls back from Robby’s damp forehead. “Better?”

“Little,” Robby admitted, voice faint.

Jack’s hand lingered against his skin, cool against the fever. “You know, if you wanted me this close, all you had to do was ask. No need to cook yourself alive to get my attention.”

Robby cracked one eye open, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You never stop, do you?”

“Not when I’ve got an audience,” Jack teased, though his touch stayed gentle, reverent. “Besides, you’re too easy to fluster. One bad pick-up line and you’re blushing like a med student.”

Robby’s cheeks were already pink from fever, but he turned his face into the pillow, trying to hide the grin.

Jack leaned down, his voice softer now. “You scare me when you push yourself like this.”

That made Robby look up, eyes bleary but earnest. “…I didn’t want to let anyone down.”

Jack’s throat tightened. He cupped Robby’s cheek, thumb brushing the heat there. “You never let us down. Least of all me.”

The silence hung thick between them, heavier than Jack’s jokes, softer than Robby’s protests. For a moment, it was just breath and warmth and the quiet hum of the ER beyond the door.

Robby’s eyes fluttered closed, his body finally giving in. Jack shifted, lying down beside him on the narrow bed, careful not to jostle him. He tucked the blanket tighter around them both, letting Robby curl against his chest.

“You rest,” Jack murmured into his curls. “I’ll keep watch.”

Robby made a faint, sleepy sound of protest—something about charts, patients—but Jack just held him closer, whispering, “Not tonight, sweetheart. Tonight, you’re mine to take care of.”

And as the fever dragged Robby under, Jack kept his hand at his back, steady and grounding, shamelessly whispering soft, ridiculous flirtations into the dark until sleep finally claimed them both.

Chapter Text

The stairs at The Pitt had seen better days. They’d also seen worse—but tonight, they were especially unkind to Jack Abbot.

He’d been taking them two at a time, balancing a stack of files under one arm, when his prosthetic caught on the lip of a step. There was no time to correct, no way to grab the railing with both hands full. He pitched forward, the files exploding into the air like startled pigeons, and landed hard against the landing.

“Goddammit,” Jack hissed, rolling to his side. His elbow stung, his ribs protested, and when he glanced down, blood was already blooming through the rip in his sleeve.

“Jack?”

Robby’s voice carried up the stairwell, sharp with alarm. Footsteps pounded, and then he was there, wide-eyed, curls bouncing, stethoscope half tangled around his neck like he’d run straight from triage.

Jack tried for a casual shrug, still sprawled on the landing. “Floor came at me faster than expected.”

Robby dropped to his knees beside him, hands already reaching. “Don’t joke. Let me see.”

“It’s just a scrape—” Jack started, but Robby was already tugging the torn fabric away from the wound. The gash along his arm was nasty long, ragged, and bleeding freely.

Robby inhaled sharply. “This needs stitches.”

“Of course it does,” Jack muttered. “Nothing’s ever simple.” He winced as Robby pressed a wad of gauze against the cut.

“You’re lucky you didn’t crack your head,” Robby scolded, his voice shaking despite his best attempt at sternness. “Or worse—Jack, what if you’d gone down another flight? What if—”

“Hey,” Jack interrupted, catching Robby’s wrist with his free hand. His grip was warm, steady. “I’m here. Just a cut. Don’t spiral.”

Robby swallowed hard, eyes wet, but nodded. “We’re patching this up. Now.”

In the empty procedure room, Robby worked like a man possessed. He cleaned the wound with gentle, precise motions, muttering under his breath in Russian when Jack flinched.

“Don’t curse at me in a language I don’t know,” Jack grumbled.

“It’s not at you,” Robby shot back. “It’s at the universe for letting you fall like this.”

Jack smirked faintly, though it faded when Robby threaded the needle. “So, Doc,” he said, settling back on the table, “how many stitches you think? Ten? Twenty? Gonna leave me a badass scar?”

Robby gave him a flat look. “You already have more scars than anyone I know. You don’t need another.”

“Maybe I like the collection.”

Robby paused, his hand hovering above the wound. “…I don’t.”

The words were soft but cut deep. Jack sobered, watching Robby’s face as he bent over his arm again, lips pressed tight with concentration. His hair fell forward, hiding his expression, but Jack could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers trembled just slightly.

Jack let the silence stretch before he spoke again, quieter this time. “You’re good at this.”

“It’s just stitches,” Robby murmured, though his ears pinked.

“No,” Jack said, his voice steady. “I mean taking care of me. You’re good at it.”

Robby’s needle faltered, just a fraction. He swallowed, eyes fixed on the wound. “…Someone has to. You’d brush this off and keep working until it got infected.”

Jack chuckled low, but there was no bite in it. “Probably true.”

For a while, the only sound was the quiet snip of thread, the faint clink of instruments. Robby’s hands were steady now, his focus absolute. He tied the last knot with a flourish, then sat back, exhaling slowly.

“There,” he said, brushing a damp curl from his forehead. “All done.”

Jack flexed his arm carefully, wincing but impressed. “Not bad, Doc. Almost makes me want to trip again just to get the full spa treatment.”

Robby’s glare could’ve melted steel. “Don’t you dare.”

Jack grinned, reaching out with his arm to tug Robby closer, just enough to make him stumble against the table. “Relax. I’ve got no intention of falling again. Unless, of course, it’s for you.”

Robby groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” Jack said softly, letting his hand rest briefly against the back of Robby’s neck. “But you keep catching me anyway.”

Robby peeked through his fingers, torn between exasperation and something warmer. Finally, he shook his head and muttered, “Just… try to stay on your feet, okay?”

Jack smirked, but his eyes stayed gentle. “Only if you promise to be there when I don’t.”

Robby didn’t answer, but when he leaned against Jack’s shoulder for a heartbeat too long, it was answer enough.

Chapter Text

The ER was chaos. Not the loud, obvious kind—the kind where you had gunshot wounds and half the city pouring through the doors—but the quieter, grinding chaos that bled you dry. Too many patients. Not enough beds. Too many cries for help and not enough hands to answer them.

Charge Nurse Dana Evens had been on her feet for sixteen hours. Sixteen hours of spinning plates, holding hands, barking orders, soothing frightened families, and carrying burdens no one else wanted. Her voice was hoarse, her scrubs wrinkled, her hair coming loose from the bun she’d stabbed it into before dawn.

She’d smiled through it, like always. Smiles made the patients calmer, made the interns listen, made her crew think she had everything under control. But her hands shook when she grabbed another chart. Her knees wobbled when she bent to adjust a blanket. She snapped at Princess over something small, and the look of surprise on the younger nurse’s face stung.

When the last ambulance of the hour finally cleared, Dana ducked into the supply closet. She closed the door behind her, leaned back against the shelves, and let herself crumble. Just for a minute.

Her hands pressed to her eyes. “God, just… keep it together. Keep it together, Dana.”

The door creaked open.

“Thought I might find you in here.”

Jack Abbot filled the doorway, leaning on his good leg, his prosthetic clicking softly as he shifted. He didn’t push inside right away. Just watched her for a long moment, eyes steady, unreadable.

Dana straightened immediately, swiping her hands down her scrubs. “I’m fine.”

“Mm,” Jack hummed. “You look fine. Except for the part where you’re about two seconds from falling over.”

Dana folded her arms, defensive. “We’re short-staffed. Somebody has to keep things running.”

Jack stepped inside and shut the door behind him, the click echoing in the small space. “Somebody, sure. Not you all by yourself.”

Dana’s jaw clenched. “That’s my job, Jack. I’m charge nurse. If I don’t hold it together—”

“Then someone else will.” Jack’s voice was calm but firm, the voice of a man who’d given too many orders and seen too many people break under them. “You can’t carry every burden in this place. It’ll crush you.”

Dana laughed once, bitter and low. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have half a dozen people looking to you every second.”

Jack tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Don’t I?”

That shut her up. Because he did—Robby leaned on him, the interns followed him, even Langdon begrudgingly deferred to him when things got hairy. Jack knew responsibility. He knew weight.

He stepped closer, slow and steady, until Dana couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His voice dropped. “You think I don’t see you? Running yourself ragged, skipping meals, hiding bruises from leaning over too many beds? You think Robby doesn’t see it? Princess? We all do.”

Dana’s throat tightened. “If I stop—if I sit down—things fall apart.”

Jack shook his head, his hand coming up to rest gently on her arm. “No. Things fall apart when you fall apart. And that’s where you’re headed.”

Her vision blurred. Damn him. Damn the way he always knew when to peel back her armor.

“Jack…” Her voice cracked. “I can’t let them down. Not the patients. Not the staff. Not the kids who come in scared out of their minds. If I drop one ball—”

“Then someone else picks it up.” His grip on her arm firmed, grounding her. “That’s how a team works. That’s why we’re here. You don’t have to do everything, Dana.”

She pressed her lips together, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “I don’t know how to stop. If I stop moving, I’ll break.”

Jack’s eyes softened. He shifted his hand, sliding it down to squeeze hers. “Then let yourself break. Just a little. Here. With me. So you don’t have to do it out there.”

Dana’s breath shuddered out. Against her will, her shoulders sagged. She let him guide her to sit on a low crate of saline bags. For once, she didn’t argue.

The silence in the closet was thick, broken only by the hum of the air vent. Dana stared at the floor, blinking hard, until finally the tears spilled over.

Jack didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to fix it. Just knelt awkwardly in front of her, ignoring the ache in his leg, and held her hands steady while she cried.

After a long while, a soft voice joined them. “There you are.”

Robby stood in the doorway, his curls haloed by the hallway light. His eyes flicked from Dana’s tear-streaked face to Jack kneeling in front of her, and understanding dawned immediately.

He slipped inside without a word, crouching on her other side. His cool hands covered hers, his forehead nearly touching hers. “Dana. You don’t have to carry it all. Not with us here.”

Dana laughed weakly, hiccuping through her tears. “I raised you two wrong. You’re supposed to let me take care of you.”

Jack smirked faintly, squeezing her hand. “Hate to break it to you, but turns out we’re pretty good at returning the favor.”

Robby leaned his head against her shoulder. “Especially when you’re stubborn.”

Dana closed her eyes, letting their warmth press in from both sides. For the first time all shift, she let herself rest. Just a little. Just enough.

And Jack’s words stayed with her, steady as his grip on her hand

“You can’t do everything. But you don’t have to. Not anymore.”

Chapter Text

The sirens faded as paramedics wheeled the stretcher into The Pitt. The man strapped to it was pale, clammy, unresponsive, his pupils pinpoints under the harsh fluorescent lights. Two police officers flanked the gurney, the tension in their shoulders practically vibrating.

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch was already gloving up, eyes flicking between vitals on the monitor and the officer closest to the patient. “What happened?”

“Unconscious at the scene,” one of the EMTs answered quickly, handing over a packet of notes. “Narcan didn’t touch him. He’s been selling fentanyl and coke cut with God knows what.”

The cop’s voice cut in, edged with anger and unease. “We got reports he was handing out bags laced with carfentanil. This guy’s been poisoning kids.”

Robby’s jaw flexed, but he only nodded briskly. “All right. We treat the patient in front of us. Langdon—help me get this jacket open, we need access.”

Dr. Frank Langdon, who’d just walked over, sighed but crouched opposite. He tugged at the zipper. “Got it.”

The second the jacket opened, there was a soft puff—a bloom of fine white powder drifting into the air.

Robby’s eyes widened as the particles hit his face. His mouth opened in shock, maybe to cough, maybe to warn the others. But no sound came.

His knees buckled.

“Robby!” Langdon shouted, lunging forward as Robby collapsed hard to the floor.

The room erupted.

“Everybody out! Clear the room!” Langdon’s voice cracked over the din. “Now—PPE, all of you!”

But Jack Abbot wasn’t moving.

He was already dropping down, hauling Robby’s limp body into his arms, dragging him away from the powder scattered across the gurney. “I’ve got him, I’ve got him—move!” His voice was ragged, threaded with panic.

Dana Evans was already at his side, snapping on protective goggles and a mask as alarms started ringing in her head. “Get him into Trauma Two! Now!”

The hallway blurred with movement—nurses shoving carts, residents stumbling into PPE, someone yanking the trauma room doors open with a slam.

Jack laid Robby on the bed with a gentleness that didn’t match the urgency in his voice. “Come on, Rob, stay with me—damn it, stay with me.”

Robby’s breathing was shallow, chest hitching erratically, lips beginning to tinge blue.

“Possible fentanyl inhalation, high concentration,” Langdon barked as he pulled on gloves, already snapping orders. “Narcan—get it, now! Bag-valve mask!”

“On it!” Mateo sprinted for the crash cart.

“Jesse, Princess—full decon!” Dana snapped. “Strip him down completely, scrub him clean. PPE only, don’t risk skin contact.”

“Got it,” Princess said, her face pale but steady. She and Jesse moved fast, scissors slicing through Robby’s scrubs, peeling layers away until he lay bare under the harsh lights. Powder flecks streaked his skin.

“Fluids up,” Dr. Heather Collins barked from the doorway, shoving a line into Jesse’s waiting hands. “Wide open, two large-bore IVs. Move!”

Princess grabbed decon swabs and saline, her hands trembling as she scrubbed at Robby’s chest and arms. Jesse worked his legs, swiping downward, careful not to smear powder further.

Jack hovered at Robby’s head, one gloved hand steadying his jaw while Langdon pressed the bag-mask to his face. Jack’s voice shook, but he kept it soft, for Robby’s ears even if Robby couldn’t hear him. “Easy, buddy. You’re all right. We’ve got you. Just breathe for me.”

Dana leaned over. “First dose Narcan—push it!”

The medication went in. The monitor beeped, Robby’s O₂ sat still low, chest still shallow.

“Again!” Dana ordered.

Another dose. Nothing.

“Again,” Jack ground out.

“Jack—” Langdon started.

“Again!” Jack snapped, his voice cracking, fear and fury lacing every syllable.

Dana nodded. “Do it.”

Another dose slammed in. Then another. The cart was nearly empty of vials before the monitor finally jumped, Robby’s chest heaving violently as he sucked in a ragged breath.

He coughed hard, choking against the mask, limbs thrashing weakly against Jesse’s and Princess’s steady hands.

“He’s combative!” Heather warned, moving to restrain his arm.

“No, no, don’t pin him—” Jack’s voice broke into something unrecognizable, something raw. He leaned close, pressing his forehead briefly to Robby’s temple. “Rob, hey—hey, it’s me. Jack. You’re safe. You’re in The Pitt. Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe.”

Robby fought the mask, hands pawing at his face until Jack caught them gently, tucking them down against the bed. His tone softened, low and steady, the way he might speak to a frightened child. “That’s it, that’s my boy. In, out. In, out. Just follow me, Rob.”

Dana swallowed hard, blinking fast as she adjusted the IV drip. She’d seen Jack command codes with military sharpness, had seen him stare down gunshot wounds with calm precision. She’d never seen him like this—terrified but tender, every ounce of strength bent toward keeping Robby tethered.

Robby groaned, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown wide. His voice slurred, high and confused. “J-Jack?”

“Yeah, I’m right here.” Jack smoothed a damp curl from his forehead. “Not going anywhere.”

Robby’s chest hitched again, his body trembling from the chemical storm tearing through him. “Don’t… don’t feel right.”

“I know.” Jack’s voice was thick, cracking at the edges. “You took a hit, but we’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

His hands were gentle even as Robby tried to shove him away, combative and out of his mind. Jack never wavered, never raised his voice. Just anchored him with steady touch and softer words.

“You’re all right, Rob. I’ve got you. Just keep breathing. Don’t fight me, all right? Just let me take it for a while.”

The narcan finally leveled him out, his vitals climbing slow but steady. The thrashing eased, his hand finally clutching at Jack’s instead of pushing it away.

Dana let out a shaky exhale, voice hushed. “He’s stabilizing.”

Jack closed his eyes, forehead still pressed lightly to Robby’s temple. “Good. That’s good.”

Around them, the room buzzed with cleanup—nurses stripping contaminated linens, residents cataloging discarded vials, Langdon writing furious notes. But Jack stayed still, one hand cradling Robby’s damp curls, the other curled firmly around his wrist.

He was never letting go.

The trauma bay was finally quiet.

Most of the team had been sent to shower, change scrubs, and scrub the chemical sting from their skin. The narcan vials sat empty on the tray. The contaminated linens had been sealed, labeled, and wheeled to hazmat.

But Robby was still in the bed.

He lay bundled in clean hospital sheets, a cardiac monitor beeping steadily at his side, IV lines dripping fluids into his bruised arm. His curls were still damp from the decon scrub, skin pale under the harsh fluorescent lights. He shifted now and again, a low groan catching in his throat, the twitch of someone who wasn’t all the way back yet.

Jack sat in a chair pulled right up against the bed, posture rigid despite the ache in his bad leg. One hand rested on Robby’s wrist, thumb brushing the pulse point over and over like he could keep him tethered through sheer contact.

Dana stood on the other side, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her voice was calm when she finally broke the silence. “You’re not letting go of him, are you?”

Jack didn’t look up. “Not a chance.”

She softened, brushing a stray curl back from Robby’s clammy forehead. “You should stretch that leg before it locks up.”

Jack’s mouth twitched. “Leg can wait. He can’t.”

Robby stirred, a restless whimper slipping out. His lashes fluttered, eyes half-opening, unfocused and glassy.

“Hey,” Jack murmured immediately, leaning in. “Easy, Rob. You’re safe.”

Robby’s lips moved clumsily. “J-Jack?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Jack squeezed his wrist gently. “Right here.”

Dana’s voice came soft, maternal. “You scared the hell out of us, sweetheart.”

Robby frowned faintly, trying to process. His words were thick, sluggish. “Wha… what happened?”

“You got exposed,” Jack said carefully. “Powder in the jacket. Knocked you flat.”

Robby blinked slowly. “The patient—”

“Is fine. Focus on you.” Jack’s tone was firm but kind, a doctor’s authority wrapped in a lover’s warmth. “We nearly lost you.”

Robby’s face crumpled, a weak protest on his lips. “Didn’t mean… to—”

“I know.” Jack hushed him immediately, smoothing his damp hair back. “Not your fault, Rob. Just bad luck.”

Dana laid a hand on his arm. “You did everything right. Let us do the rest.”

Robby tried to push himself up, instantly swaying. Jack caught him, steadying him against the pillows. “Nope. Not happening. You stay down.”

Robby huffed, dazed and stubborn all at once. “M’fine.”

Jack’s lips twitched, halfway to a smile, though his eyes still burned with leftover fear. “You’re higher than a kite and pale as a ghost. You are absolutely not fine.”

Robby made a noise halfway between a laugh and a groan.

Dana pulled the blanket up to his chin, fussing with maternal efficiency. “You’ll sleep it off. We’re not going anywhere.”

The door opened then, and heels clicked against the tile.

Gloria Underwood, hospital administrator, stepped in. Her tailored suit looked starkly out of place among the scrubs and gloves, her expression a practiced mask of concern overlaying steel.

“I was briefed.” Her eyes swept the room, landing on Robby pale in the bed. “Dr. Robinavitch—how is he?”

Jack’s jaw tightened. “Alive. Barely.”

Gloria’s eyes narrowed slightly, flicking between Jack’s glare and Dana’s weary posture. “And the exposure protocol?”

“Followed to the letter,” Dana said curtly. “Full decon. Staff monitored.”

Gloria nodded once, pulling a notepad from her folder. “This incident will require a full incident report. We cannot afford any appearance of negligence. A staff doctor overdosing in the ER—”

Jack surged to his feet, fury flashing in his eyes. “He didn’t overdose. He was poisoned.”

Robby flinched at the raised voice, a soft sound escaping his throat.

Jack instantly crouched back down, tone flipping back to gentle. “Sorry, Rob. Didn’t mean to shout. You’re all right. Just breathe.”

Dana turned a sharp glare on Gloria. “Now is not the time, Gloria. He’s still combative, he’s barely conscious, and you’re standing here talking about appearances.”

Gloria’s lips thinned, but she tucked her notepad back into her folder. “Fine. I’ll expect your report by the end of shift.” Her eyes lingered on Robby one last time. “See that he’s monitored closely.”

When she left, the silence felt heavier than before.

Jack muttered something under his breath that Dana pretended not to hear. Then he turned back to Robby, who was blinking up at him groggily.

“Don’t listen to her,” Jack said softly. “She doesn’t matter right now. You matter. You just keep breathing.”

Dana smoothed the blanket again. “We’ve got you, sweetheart. Nothing else to worry about.”

Robby exhaled, slow and shaky. His eyelids drooped again, body loosening against the bed as he slipped back into uneasy sleep.

Jack stayed with his hand in Robby’s, thumb brushing that pulse point, grounding them both. Dana stayed at his side, silent and steady.

And for now, that was enough.

The steady beep-beep-beep of the cardiac monitor filled the trauma room.

It was a comforting rhythm after hours of chaos. Robby had been in and out of shallow sleep, drifting on the edge of consciousness, tethered to the IVs and Jack’s unshakable presence at his bedside.

Dana sat in the chair on the opposite side, sipping her long-cold coffee. She wasn’t leaving either. Someone had to keep Jack from running himself into the ground as much as Robby from flatlining again.

Robby stirred with a faint noise, his lashes fluttering as he blinked blearily toward the room. His gaze landed on Jack, who was leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees.

The monitor spiked—his heart rate climbing with surprising speed.

Then Robby’s lashes parted, hazel eyes glassy but slowly focusing. His chest rose and fell with a hitch—and the monitor began to climb.

Beep. Beep. Beep-beep.

Jack’s head snapped toward the screen, alarm flashing in his eyes before he looked back down at Robby. “Hey, hey. Easy there, Rob. You’re all right. You’re safe.”

Robby blinked at him again, the corners of his mouth twitching in a dazed, crooked half-smile.

Dana covered her mouth, a laugh escaping before she could stop it. “Oh, look at that. His heart rate jumps the second he sees you. Poor boy’s got a crush.”

Jack whipped his head toward her, eyebrows arched. “Dana—”

But she was already grinning, clearly enjoying herself. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. The way he follows you around. The way his whole face softens when you’re near. Now the monitor’s tattling for him.”

Robby made a faint noise, halfway between a groan and a chuckle, his words slurred but audible. “M’not—crush. Just… like him.”

Jack’s laugh came low and rough, breaking the tension in his shoulders. He leaned closer, brushing his hand lightly over Robby’s curls. “Just like me, huh? That’s all?”

Robby blinked at him, dazed and honest. “Like you… lot.”

Dana snorted into her coffee. “There it is. Confession under narcan haze. You better be careful, Abbot—man’s going to write sonnets about you.”

Jack didn’t look away from Robby, his voice dropping into that warm, teasing drawl he rarely let slip at work. “Well, lucky for him, I’ve always had a soft spot for poetic types. And doctors with ridiculous hair.”

Robby’s weak laugh hitched into a cough, and Jack immediately steadied him, lifting him just enough to help. “Easy, easy. Don’t hurt yourself trying to flirt back.”

Robby blinked up at him, pupils still blown but gaze soft. “Pretty.”

Jack’s breath caught, a grin tugging at his mouth as he leaned closer. “Pretty? You mean me, Rob?”

Dana laughed so hard she had to set her coffee down before she spilled it. “God, you’re enjoying this.”

“Damn right I am,” Jack shot back, though his voice stayed gentle as he smoothed a damp curl from Robby’s forehead. “Man nearly scared ten years off my life. If he wants to call me pretty for sticking around, I’ll take it.”

Robby’s hand twitched weakly against the sheets until Jack caught it, wrapping their fingers together. Robby’s eyes slipped closed again, his breathing evening out, the monitor slowing back down into a calmer rhythm.

It took a moment but his eyes opened again. A little more clear. His eyes landing on Jack again. Jack blinked at the screen, then back at Robby. “Hello to you too.”

Dana glanced up, she caught the way Robby’s gaze locked onto Jack—confused but undeniably intent—her mouth curved. “Our poor boy’s still got a crush.”

Robby’s brows furrowed faintly. His voice came out rough, slurred. “N…no…”

Jack chuckled, leaning closer, his tone teasing but warm. “Your heart rate’s telling a different story, Rob.”

Beep-beep-beep.

Dana smothered a laugh behind her hand. “I haven’t seen the monitor spike like that all night. You’d think you just ran a marathon—oh wait, no, that’s just Jack leaning over you.”

Robby let out a faint, indignant sound, turning his face half into the pillow as if he could hide. His lips worked clumsily around the words. “Don’t… don’t tease.”

Jack softened instantly, though the smile never left his face. “I’m not teasing. Well, maybe just a little. But only because you’re ridiculously cute when you’re out of it.”

Robby blinked up at him, dazed. His eyes tracked down, then back up again—and suddenly he froze.

His voice cracked. “I’m… naked.”

Jack barked out a laugh. “Ah, there it is. The realization hits.”

Dana chuckled, setting her notes aside. “Decon protocol, sweetheart. Jesse and Princess got you cleaned up. Modesty went right out the window, I’m afraid.”

Robby’s cheeks flushed even through the pallor of his skin. “Oh God.”

Jack leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t see a thing. Too busy yelling at everyone to pump you full of narcan. But now that I know you’re embarrassed…” He winked. “Maybe I should’ve looked.”

Robby groaned, dragging the blanket up to his chin with weak, fumbling hands.

Jack caught the edge of the blanket and tucked it snugly around him, gentler than his words suggested. “And you’re alive. Which is all that matters.”

Dana rolled her eyes but smiled, her voice warm. “You two are hopeless. Robby, don’t you worry. We’ve all seen worse in this ER.”

Robby gave a weak huff, somewhere between laughter and resignation. His heart rate, still quick, began to settle again as Jack’s hand stayed steady on his wrist.

Jack leaned closer, voice dropping to that soft register reserved for Robby alone. “Hey. You’re safe. Sheets are staying put. Just breathe.”

Robby blinked slowly, his lashes heavy again. His lips curved faintly, the tiniest smile tugging at the corners.

Dana caught the look, shook her head, and muttered with a laugh, “Hopeless, both of you.”

Jack’s grin softened as he brushed his thumb once more over Robby’s pulse. “Yeah. But worth it.”

Dana shook her head, smiling tiredly as she stood. “All right, Casanova. I’ll give you two some privacy before he proposes right here in Trauma Two.”

Jack chuckled, but his eyes stayed fixed on Robby, his thumb brushing lightly against his knuckles. “If he did, I wouldn’t say no.”

Dana paused in the doorway, her voice softening as she looked back. “He’s lucky to have you, Jack. And you’re lucky he’s still here.”

Jack swallowed hard, leaning down to press his forehead briefly against Robby’s temple. 

His words were quiet, for Robby alone.

“Luckiest man alive.”