Chapter Text
Dennis wasn’t entirely sure how he had ended up in this situation. Outside of a shitty bar he couldn’t remember the name of, alcohol buzzing pleasantly under his skin, the taste of nicotine clinging to the back of his throat, looking at his boss like he was the only thing that remained in this world.
It had been a long day in the ER. A fifteen-hour shift, exhausting, chaotic, with the imminent doom of Dr. Robby going on sabbatical the same night looming over them. That was, until they all ended in this very bar, celebrating Victoria’s birthday. The day was still weighing hard on him. Louie, a kid in Trauma 2, an elderly woman. Louie had hurt the most. Ogilvie hadn’t made it any better.
Princess had walked up to him, not long after Louie’s death, and told him about this little outing for his friend’s birthday. He had accepted without hesitation. Ironically, drinking tonight felt like the right tribute. It went against everything Dennis’ actually thought. He remembered all the times Louie had asked him to get a drink in his honor when Dennis clocked out of his shift, and Louie was stuck there for the night. Adding to the intensity of his day, to the way Trinity had been acting with him all day long, to the way Robby’s leave felt like something much deeper than just a mid-life crisis, Dennis had been truly more than just one drink in.
He was currently nursing a shitty beer that strangely reminded him of home, the dying cigarette burning the tip of his fingers on his left hand. Robby was in front of him, looking at him like he was a case that needed to be solved.
He remembered the night he had confessed to his brother Brian he was changing his major. Both of them were sitting in the barn, a cigarette they had gotten from only God knew where and a beer, stolen from their father’s fridge. Out of them all, Dennis was the closest to Brian, only two years his elder. Not that he was particularly close either. Just the closest. Brian had taken the news well. Told him to go live his life and maybe save some if he wished to, as long as he didn’t decide to play God. Dennis felt bittersweet about that. After Louie, he wasn’t too sure he was living his life, saving lives, nor playing God.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Robby asks eventually, pulling him out of his thoughts. It had been a surprise to everyone that Robby had come tonight. He was supposed to be gone already, but after the extent of their shift, he had apparently decided to leave the next morning and celebrate with them all. Robby had smiled the brightest when Victoria downed her first shot of the night.
Dennis took the last drag of his cigarette before throwing the butt on the ground and stepping on it. He shrugged, his hand instantly finding the pack of cigarettes again. This time, however, he politely offered one to Robby.
“Didn’t peg you for this much of a smoker,” Robby comments, taking a cigarette. He points at the lighter, and Dennis curses at himself for not being more reactive.
“Are you really leaving?” He deflects. When Robby gives him the lighter back, their hand brushes. For a moment, Dennis thinks he’s going to hold his hand. Robby was deep into fist bumps lately, which was quite a drastic change from the shoulder and neck grabs he used to do on Dennis. He won’t say it out loud, not even to Trinity or himself, but sometimes he feels like the lack of touching is making him go insane.
Robby shakes his head, a low chuckle mixing with an exhale. It all comes out breathy and awkward, as if he doesn’t stop the sound now, he would choke on the smoke. Dennis is sure he knows better. “Don’t start, not you too.”
Dennis frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I know what you all think.”
At that, he only hums. “I’m just not sure how we’re gonna hold up without you.” He’s smoking his cigarette at a concerning pace, already almost halfway through it. He takes a gulp of his beer. It burns his throat. It feels good.
Robby looks at him for a long second, clearly deep in thought. His gaze is unwavering, looking directly into Dennis’ eyes with such intensity that it is making him want to squirm away. Him going on a sabbatical might do Dennis good. Or might make him worse. The lack of Robby feels suffocating, just as much as he feels breathless whenever he is in his vicinity.
The cigarette is stuck in-between the attending’s lips as he fishes for his phone, holding it to Dennis. “I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think you would all do good. But just in case,” He moves the phone closer until Dennis grabs it, “Text me if you need.”
When Dennis makes it home that night, he plugs his phone in to charge. He doesn’t know when it died. It didn’t really matter, he was enough out of it that he didn’t have it in himself to care. He goes to take a shower, long and warm, until Trinity’s fist meets his bedroom door harshly, yelling something about not emptying the hot water.
The last thing he sees is a text from a new number.
[UNKNOWN NUMBER, 1:16AM]
you got this, you’re a great doctor. I’m sorry about your uncle, again.
Dennis doesn’t text Robby until the second week after he left. It’s a nice shift so far. He still has a good four hours left on his shift, but the amount of patients is actually manageable. Except for that teenage girl in 16. Which is exactly what is leading him to text his superior.
[Dennis, 3:51PM]
hey dr.robby, i hope i’m not interrupting
He overthinks his texts three times. Deleting, re-typing, until eventually his thumb accidentally brushes on the sending button. Well, no coming back now. He’s sitting at a desk, trying to get ahead of his charting. Dana is updating Donnie and Mel on something, and Donnie makes a joke funny enough that it gets Dr. Mohan to laugh from the other side of the station.
Dennis is munching on a protein bar, awkwardly typing with one hand when his phone lights up next to him. He half expects it to be Trinity or his mother. It isn’t. Instead, he lets the shame and embarrassment swallow him whole as he gives up on finishing his sentence to grab his phone.
[Robby, 4:02PM]
you're not. Is everything okay?
Dennis’ answer is immediate.
[Dennis, 4:02PM]
yea i just need a new pair of eyes on smth
[Dennis, 4:03PM]
14yo girl, obstructive respiratory issues, SAT stable at 87, won’t get back up even with BIPAP. history of asthma, nothing on the CT, blood work too. should i try to get an MRI?
[Robby, 4:03PM]
get an HRCT first
[Dennis, 4:03PM]
you’re thinking of LAM?
[Robby, 4:04PM]
maybe. or Fibrosis. She’s young but don’t rule it out. If the CT was normal, dig deeper
[Dennis, 4:04PM]
MRI it is. got it cap
[Dennis, 4:07PM]
thanks
“Who are you texting?” Mel is now looking over him. Her hair isn’t in her usual braid today. Instead, it’s in a low loose bun. It suits her. “Wait, sorry, you don’t have to answer.” She waves her hand around in the air, as if to erase the question.
Dennis smiles at her. “Just trying to think deeper for the teenager in 16.”
“Alice?” He nods.
“Sat is blocked at 87, CT came back normal, needed a new perspective.”
She hums pensively. She taps on the desk with her hands. “Good luck with that.”
The rest of the day passes by quicker than he ever thought it would, and before he realizes, he’s in the locker room, fighting with his overflowing bag. He really needs to stop stacking things in it.
Trinity enters behind him, an iced coffee swirling in a transparent cup. Dennis smiles to himself. As much as he absolutely loves the night shift staff, he hates doing nights. He hates the amount of drunk people and accidents caused by inebriation. He also hates staying up all night. Early mornings were drilled into his body as a child. Farm duty, church, then later on helping around with his nephews and nieces. Nowadays, even if he went to sleep late, no matter how late, he’d be awake by six thirty without fail. Most of the time, he’s unable to sleep after a night shift, resulting in him going a solid 36 hours without sleep. So he doesn’t enjoy nights too much.
Trinity, on the other side, seems to thrive on it.
“What’s up, Huck. Don’t forget to take Merry’s food away. She’s still on her diet.”
He nods at his roommate, letting her give him a high five on the way out. Merry, the calico cat. He acts like he’s not allergic to the cat, but definitely experiences hypersensitivity with her. Not that he would ever mention anything to Trinity. If anything, Merry has been here for longer than Dennis has. He’s already taking enough from her.
His phone vibrates as he gets on the bus. It’s packed, and there’s traffic. He’s going to be stuck in there for a long time. As he checks his phone, he promptly ignores the message from his mother in favor of reading the three unread messages from Robby.
[Robby, 4:38PM]
np
[Robby, 5:07PM]
Feel free to update me on your patient I’m curious.
[Robby, 7:43PM]
how are things going with Dr Al-Hashimi?
Dennis lets out an airy chuckle.
[Dennis, 7:44PM]
pulmonary fibrosis, you were right. gave her some antifibrotic for now, sent her upstairs. hopefully she’ll see a pneumonologist soon.
[Dennis, 7:45PM]
are you trying to gossip while you’re on vacation?
In the end, it took him two hours to make it home. Somehow, after a whole day in the ER, the way back home was the worst thing that had happened to him. As grateful as he is to be able to have an actual room, with an actual fridge, and an actual shower, he longs for the room on the 8th floor. Back when he just had to make his way up.
He doesn’t miss the hyperawareness that came with it, no. But he does miss not having to fight with a weirdly passive-aggressive cat. Merry is hissing at him a little more harshly every time he gets closer to her bowl.
“Come on, Mer, we don’t have to do this.” He sighs as he tries to inch forward again. She hisses harder, her back arching scarily. He lets out a groan. His phone is ringing; someone is calling him. He hopes it’s not the hospital. “This is not over.” He says, glaring at the cat.
He grabs his phone and answers the call without looking at the ID. “Dr. Whitaker.” He says automatically. He also hopes it’s not his mother. He accidentally answered the phone like that to her a couple of days ago and had been in for a long, painful lecture.
The chuckles that echo at the other end of the line make his blood go cold. Shit. He hadn’t expected Robby to call him. He almost wishes it had been the hospital or his mother.
“Is this how you answer the phone?”
Dennis purses his lips, his eyes locking with the cat. “For my defense, I thought it was the Pitt calling me back.”
“Why would they call you back?” He tries to not hear the clear frown in his voice. Tries not to read it for concern or worry.
“Four ambulances came in when I was on my way back home.”
Robby hummed. “Well, now your line is used, so they can’t call you back in, anyway.”
This time, Dennis chuckled. “You’re a terrible boss.”
“Not a boss right now, Whitaker.” Dennis could almost hear the smile in his voice. God, this was a terrible mistake.
“Then call me Dennis.” When it’s quiet on the other line, Dennis continues. “Or not. Whatever. How is sabbatical treating you?” He cringes at the sound of his own voice.
“Good. It’s nice.” Robby answers, sounding as nonchalant as he did when he tried to show something wasn’t getting to him. Not that it was really working.
Dennis can’t help the laugh that gets out of him. “You’re bored.”
“No, I’m not.” The answer is immediate. Defensive. Dennis smiles wider.
“So. Pulmonary fibrosis. Insane at such a young age.” He re-directs the conversation. He’s not sure why. He just doesn’t want this to end.
A hum. “Usually comes later in life. How was her SAT when you sent her up?”
“93.”
“Still too low.”
“Yet the highest we had all day with her.” Talking work was easy with Robby. Nice, familiar, safe.
“How did you come up with that?”
“HRCT, like you suggested. MRI wasn’t necessary in the end.”
“Good.” Then, after a pause. “You’re a good doctor.”
Dennis chuckles. “You’ve said that already.”
“Because it’s the truth.”
Merry seems to be very bored with the situation in front of her and finally backs out of the kitchen. That seems to sort of do the trick for Dennis, bringing him back to reality.
“Uhm, listen, I gotta go, but it was nice talking to you.” He says, bending down to pick the bowl up.
“No problem. Have a good evening.”
Dennis tried to ignore the pang he felt in his chest. “Yeah. Thank you again for today.”
“Any time. Goodnight, Den.” With that, the line went dead.
Den.
Fuck.
The next time Dennis texts Robby, it’s on a much worse shift. These kinds of shifts where everyone seemed to have decided to get sick or hurt the same day. It was only eleven in the morning, and they had already had three heart attacks, a weird case of abnormal hypertrophy of lower body muscles, a hypothermia case, and, more recently, a GSW. The latter being the reason as to why he reached out to Robby after almost a week of radio silence.
Perhaps the sabbatical was doing the attending some good. Being so disconnected from reality. He hadn’t heard anyone speak about him in a while, so he wasn’t even sure Robby was giving anyone news. He certainly hadn’t given Dennis any. Which was fine. It’s fine.
[Dennis, 11:23AM]
[photo attached]
[Dennis, 11:23AM]
what do we think
Dennis tries to school his surprise when the answer comes in immediately.
[Robby, 11:23AM]
gsw
He swallows back the laugh that fights to make its way out of his throat.
[Robby, 11:24AM]
with retained ballistic fragments. Did you really need me to tell you that?
[Dennis, 11:25AM]
the bullet is stuck between T5 and T6. no signs of motricity in inferior members. dr. al-hashimi says he should be sent to the OR and he could be able to get back on his feet with re-education.
This time, it takes a while till he gets another text. He checks on his patients, talks to the wife of one of the heart-attacks patients, works on his charting, coaxes Langdon into sharing one of his energy drinks, and when that one doesn’t work, tries to convince Dana to order food for the staff. Not that this works either.
[Robby, 12:36PM]
what did garcia say
[Dennis, 12:41PM]
impossible, the spinal cord is too damaged. he’s on his way to surgery to remove the bits of the bullet
[Robby, 12:42PM]
if Dr Al-Hashimi wants to send him to PT, that’s her decision. He’s stable, he’s going to surgery, you did your job.
Dennis stares at his phone for a second longer. He hadn’t expected this answer. He isn’t even sure why he reached out to him to begin with. Reassurance? Validation? Did he want Robby to tell him to push Dr. Al-Hashimi around because he, himself, didn’t agree with the false hope she had given the young man? Was that all he needed? Confidence that he was doing the right thing?
He frowns as he types his answer.
[Dennis, 12:45PM]
sure yeah
[Dennis, 12:45PM]
idk i don’t think giving the guy false hope was a fair thing
[Dennis, 12:46PM]
this is how people get named in lawsuits
[Robby, 12:46PM]
I agree with you
Just like that, it was the end of the conversation. It left Dennis feeling bothered and unfulfilled. This wasn’t fair, and for a moment, he resented Robby for not being around.
“Whitaker, if you’re done texting your farm girlfriend, you’re needed in south fifteen.” Trinity shouts at him across the floor, smiling at him with a wicked grin.
It becomes sort of a routine, after that. He finds himself sending Robby texts on more shifts, asking for help with patients, with procedures, paperwork, truly anything that will give him a reason to send the attending a text. He wonders if Robby is annoyed by the behavior. Dennis is sure that if he were, he simply would stop answering his texts.
[Dennis, 8:45PM]
you’ll never guess what was the name of my patient today
Usually, he would have followed it by another text, not giving Robby time to reply before giving him the answer. Today, though, he sent the text more as a habit than a conscious decision. He’s halfway through taking his scrubs off, trying not to trip on the carpet before entering the shower. It’s warm, too warm for the horrendous month of August they’re starting to get. Still, he relishes in the heat, the way his skin burns and he’s having trouble breathing around all the fog.
When he gets out of the shower, he hears movement in the corridor, followed by a string of giggles. He sighs. For a moment, last month, he had thought that Trinity’s obviously toxic situationship with their superior was done. He had been wrong.
[Robby, 9:21PM]
what was it?
Dennis almost feels the irritation leave his body. Almost.
[Dennis, 9:22PM]
robbie
[Dennis, 9:22PM]
short for robert tho. not robinavitch
[Robby, 9:25PM]
good one. What was he in for?
[Dennis, 9:25PM]
sepsis. apparently he’s a veteran too
[Dennis, 9:26PM]
never seen everyone be so serious about referring to someone by their last name. dr.mohan called him robbie and it looked like half of the room had seen a ghost
[Dennis, 9:26PM]
i think we all miss u a bit
[Dennis, 9:30PM]
sorry that was a little weird idk why i said that
[Dennis, 9:32PM]
not that i don’t mean it
[Dennis, 9:45PM]
nvm forget it
[Dennis, 9:45PM]
gn dr.robby
[Robby, 9:57PM]
goodnight dennis.
So it goes on. At this point, most of the staff, both night and day, are losing their bets on Robby's sabbatical length. It’s been almost two and a half months since Robby left for his sabbatical. Dana and Dr. Abbot had been the first ones to lose the bet, and it made Dennis chuckle how the two people Robby seemed to be the closest to had so little faith in him.
From the last time he and Robby had talked, he was somewhere lost in the middle of God-knows-where in Canada. Sometimes, he wouldn’t have any answer from him in days. He wasn’t worried. No. He had no reason to be worried. It wasn’t his place either. Still, he had realized that on those days, he was crankier. His patience had limits he wasn’t aware of. He had also realized that everything seemed to go better once he got an answer. Usually, the direct reply to his last text followed by, “Sorry, no reception here.”
No, what was new was the pictures. Their conversations weren’t strictly professional anymore. Dennis would share random things about his life, most of which Robby hadn’t even asked for. It started when Dennis sent him a picture of the large gash Merry had given him on his cheek. Robby had immediately called him, ordering him to go to the ER. The conversation had flowed easily between the two until eventually Dennis was half asleep on his bed, the timing of the call nearing two hours.
After that, it seemed like a dam had been broken. Dennis would tell him random things about his daily life, while Robby would send him pictures of landscapes or things he found funny on the road. The texts about Dennis’ medical cases still occurred. They were just lost in random talks and teasing.
Dennis wasn’t stupid. He knew what it meant. He knew that it was harder and harder to keep his feelings to himself. He also knew that none of his colleagues was talking like that to their boss.
He hadn’t talked to Robby since this morning, when the attending had sent him a picture of a Moose walking calmly on the road. By then, he had clocked in, finding Dr. Abbot hunched over a desk, on his phone.
“Good morning, Dr. Abbot.” He had greeted him.
Dr. Abbot, smiled at him, kind and open. Dennis liked Dr. Abbot for a plethora of reasons. For one, he was a great attending. For another, he was an amazing teacher, always letting Dennis the most unhinged things when he was on the night shift. Dr. Abbot also seemed to be an anchor in Robby’s life, often coming up in their most vulnerable conversation. Dennis didn’t know how much Dr. Abbot knew about him, but by the knowing smirk he tended to send his way, it was probably more than Dennis felt truly comfortable with.
“Did you also get the Moose?” He had asked Dennis, turning his phone to show him the picture. It was the same one he had received.
Dennis let out a snort. “Sure did.”
The day had rolled out easily after that. It wasn’t a particularly hard day. Instead, it was a busy one. Not a second to slow down his pace, to drink, to eat. When two in the morning had rolled in, a middle-aged man had come in, an insane rash spreading from his torso down his leg. Dennis had been assigned to this patient along with Victoria and Dr. McKay.
Perlah was monitoring his vitals at the same time as Victoria was running all sorts of routine tests. His breathing and blood pressure were definitely being affected but he was at a loss of what was going on with the man. He would have to find Dr. Al-Hashimi, seeing as neither of his two colleagues seem to know either. Perhaps he could even text Robby about it. Hoping he didn’t lose his reception this morning.
He went to fish into his pocket to get his phone when Dr. Langdon opened the door. “Whitaker, we need you in Central three like, right now.”
Dennis curses under his breath. He puts his phone back into his pocket, looking at Dr. McKay. “Hey, can you text Dr. Robby about the rash? I wanna know what he says. Thanks.”
“What?”
That stopped him in his tracks. “Can you send a picture of the rash to Dr. Robby? He probably knows what this is.” He repeats himself, looking at Dr. McKay. She just stares at him blankly, and only now he seems to realize that everyone else in the room is just staring at him like he’s grown two heads. “What?” He’s the one asking this time.
“Why would I send a text to Dr. Robby?” Dr. McKay asks.
“Hold on. You have Robby’s phone number?” Victoria is the one asking this, her tone full of disbelief.
He frowns. Well, he hopes Central three isn’t an emergency. Which is wishful thinking, considering he’s an emergency physician in an emergency room.
“You don’t?” He asks, confused. He turns towards Langdon, whose expression he can’t read. “You do, right?”
“We don’t-” Langdon starts before someone interrupts him.
“You text him about work while he’s on his sabbatical?”
“He asked me to. Wait, you really don’t have his number?”
“When did you get it?” Perlah asks, her lips pursed. He’s not sure if she’s confused or trying to contain a laugh.
“Right before he left. I thought everyone had it.” He mumbles the last part.
Their conversation is fully stopped when their rash patient is groaning in pain, bringing them all back to reality.
None of that sits right with Dennis.
It’s a busy day. He said that already. He doesn’t have time to think or sit down, yet after successfully bringing a cardiac arrest patient back in the world of the living, Dennis makes a beeline for the ambulance bay, not hesitating a second before dialing Robby’s number.
Luckily for him, he picks up after the fourth ring.
“Dennis-”
“What the fuck, Robby.” That shuts him up pretty quickly.
They’re both silent for a moment, but he can tell Robby is getting impatient. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” His attending asks. “Jack told me you were in today. Something wrong?”
It takes a second for Dennis to compose himself. He’s been worked up ever since the incident with the rash patient. He doesn’t even know how long it’s been. An hour, at least. Maybe four at most. The problem was the same. Too many people had been involved in the conversation, and word travelled fast in the Pitt. Too fast.
“Why did you only give your number to me?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re not the only person in all of PTMC that has my phone number, Whitaker.” And although he sounds teasing, almost laughing, the use of his last name gives Dennis the feeling of a cold, unwanted shower.
“Yeah, but you’re not talking to any of them. No one is sending you texts about their patients, or calling you.”
The line goes quiet, and if it weren’t for the sound of life around him, Dennis would have thought Robby had hung up on him. “I asked McKay to send you a text because I wanted your input on a patient with the most insane rash any of us had ever seen. Imagine my surprise when they all looked at me like I’ve gone insane.”
This time, he hears Robby sigh, long and exasperated. “Listen, I offered because it was right after Louie. You didn’t look good. I was worried. I had hoped you’d reach out if you wanted to talk about how you were feeling. But then you started telling me about your patients, and I wasn’t going to shut you down. I didn’t give my number to anyone else because I never felt the need to.”
And truly, Dennis didn’t know how to react to that. He felt anger, embarrassment, and this third, growing feeling in his chest that he had been desperately trying to avoid for longer than he’d ever admit.
“Okay, uh,” He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in. He runs a hand in his hair, letting it rest at the nape of his neck. Someone is calling his name behind, urging him to come back inside. “I have to go.”
“Listen, I’m back in Pittsburgh in a week or so. We can talk better about that. Face to face.” Robby says, hurriedly. “And send me that rash patient.”
The call disconnected.
Sure. Let’s talk face to face. Whatever the fuck they were supposed to talk about. Dennis lets out a sigh, turning on his heels, rushing back inside.