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“Got 3 waiting on ICU beds, two waiting on ortho, and one on cardiology,” Abbot tells him, pointing out each name on the board as he goes down the list.
“Lovely.”
“And Gloria’s already been down here looking for you, so be ready for that.”
Of course, she has been. It’s barely even six thirty. Can’t even wait until he’s actually on shift to start trying to hound him. Last night was “girls’ night,” which meant Dennis wasn’t home, having slept the night at Santos’ place. He hasn’t lived there in three months, but he still occasionally spends the night. When him and the other Pittlings, as they’ve dubbed themselves, decide to get together. Offered to pick him up on the way in, given that Santos is off today and was told no. I miss the walk, it’s nice this time of year.
Which is why he’s here so early. Turns out he doesn’t sleep so well on his own anymore. Has gotten used to Dennis clinging to him like a barnacle and snoring in his ear. Has gotten used to waking up in the middle of the night and being able to hear his breathing. To falling asleep to it. Hadn’t realized how much he relied on it until it wasn’t there. He’d managed to sleep, but not nearly as well as he would have had Dennis been with him. Is already looking forward to climbing into bed with him tonight, to falling into a proper sleep with him curled into his side.
“Just another day in paradise,” he says with a sarcastic lilt.
“Living the dream,” Abbot shoots back, face twisting in a half smile.
“Got incoming,” Dana announces as she joins them, “Abbot, good you’re still here. Gonna need you to run point on this.”
“I’m on already, I can handle it. Let the old man go home and sleep.”
“He needs to do it.”
“Why?”
“It’s Whitaker.”
The words process, but they don’t make sense. It’s Whitaker. What does she mean it’s Whitaker? She was telling them about an incoming trauma. Surely she can’t mean that. No, no, she must mean something else. He missed part of the conversation. That’s it. He missed something. Didn’t hear a sentence. Because she can’t be telling him that Dennis is the one being brought in. No, no. That can’t be right. Because he’s fine. He’s enjoying the walk to work. The leaves, the leaves are turning and he likes the colors. Reminds him of home, that’s what he told him. So there has to be some mistake. It can’t be him. Robby just misheard. Because Dennis is fine, he’s on the way here now, and he’s fine.
“Abdominal stab wound,” Dana goes on, “Bystander called it in. Kept pressure on it until EMTs got there.”
All traces of teasing from before are gone as Abbot shouts, “Mohan, Ellis with me. Now.”
They’re both off to the side, doing their own hand off. Both their eyes snap up at the sound of his voice, and whatever they see there has them rushing to follow. Robby moves to go with them. Dana tries to stop him, hand on his upper arm, but he shrugs her off. Knows why she’s doing it. He’s too close. He can’t be part of this. He knows that. Isn’t gonna let that stop him, though. Because of fucking course he’s too fucking close to this. It’s Dennis. And he trusts Abbot with his life, but he isn’t sure he can trust him with Dennis’. Isn’t sure how to place the most important thing in his world in someone else’s hands. Because how will he know everything possible was done if he doesn’t do it himself?
“Twenty-eight-year-old male. Stab wound to the epigastric region, knife was removed post stabbing. Significant blood loss. Tachy at 140, BP is 80/50. Is conscious, though confused.”
“Trauma one is open,” Dana calls from the hub.
“Is, is that Whitaker?” Samira asks, voice cracking.
“Focus,” Abbot orders, “On three. One, two, three. Ellis, E-FAST. Mohan, type and get two units on the rapid transfuser.”
“A positive,” Robby says, so they don’t waste time.
“You can’t be in here, Brother.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
Abbot sighs, heavy and hard. Flicks his eyes between Dennis and Robby, even as his hands never stop moving. Ellis is still working the E-FAST, and Mohan already has the IV going for the transfusion. She stops, after the rapid transfuser kicks on. Looks at him from across Dennis’ bloody abdomen. Sends him that look, that one full of understanding and sympathy. The same one he’s seen her use on patients' families. Realizes that in this moment, that’s what he is. Mohan flicks her eyes to Abbot, softens her expression. He sighs again, somehow heavier than he did before.
“You can either stand in the corner or keep him awake, but you are not to assist, is that clear?”
“Crystal.”
Ignores the muttered shouldn’t even be in here. Moves to Dennis’ head, leans down by his side. Will take anything, as long as it doesn’t involve being dragged from the room by Ahmad or Langdon. Dennis’ eyes are open, but not focused. Robby rubs his sternum, gently at first, then harder to bring him back. He blinks, and he seems more aware when he looks into his eyes. Isn’t so sure that’s a good thing, when his face collapses in pain. Wonders if letting him drift wouldn’t be kinder. But, no, he knows it’s not. Shock isn’t kinder just because it doesn’t show the pain as easily.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hurts.”
“I know, they’re working on it,” Robby assures as he hears Abbot call for morphine.
“E-FAST is clear,” Ellis informs them, and he swears the whole room lets out a sigh of relief at the same time.
“Two more units on the transfuser, let’s get ahead of the loss. Missed everything major, but he’s still bleeding. Ellis, get in here, help me find this bleeder so we can clamp it.”
“Hear that, sweetheart, you’re gonna be fine. Hey,” Robby lets his voice go sharp, even as he drags a knuckle over his sternum, “You have to stay awake.”
“Tired.”
“I know you are, but I need you to stay awake for me.”
“Wanna sleep.”
And Robby feels Abbot’s eyes dart to Dennis’ face. Knows he heard it too. The slurring. Abbot’s calling for another IV, more blood. But Robby pays it no mind. Because Dennis’ eyes have slipped closed and he can’t have that. Needs them to be open. Raps a knuckle on his sternum, and he grumbles but doesn’t open them. Robby can feel his own heart rate rocket in response. Because he was slurring and tired, and now he won’t open his eyes. Is barely responding to pain.
“Dennis, sweetheart, I need you to open your eyes. Come on, I need you to stay awake for me.”
“Get him awake, Brother.”
“Dennis, you need to wake up now. Come on, open your eyes.”
An alarm blares to life to his left, and Robby almost falls over, he jumps so high in the air. Shouldn’t, it’s an alarm he hears every day. But it’s different because this time it’s Dennis. The flat line alarm wails, loud and shrill. Dying. He’s dying. Fuck Abbot and fuck not helping. He moves to start compressions, but doesn’t have the time, because Mohan is already there. Already up on the gurney, hands folded, rhythm steady. Ellis is screaming for a crash cart, and Dana hustles in with one so fast that he suspects she was waiting outside with it the entire time.
Robby stumbles back a step because if he doesn’t, he’s going to do something stupid. Like push Mohan off of him. Shove her out of the way so he can do the compressions instead. Or body check Jack out of the way so he can find the bleeder. Or maybe start screaming. He isn’t sure, at this point. Steps back because he isn’t sure what he’ll do if he doesn’t. If he stays. Trusts them all, trusts them to know what to do, how to help. Has to, because in this moment, he doesn’t trust himself. Twenty-some years of emergency medicine experience goes flying out the window. Because it’s Dennis on the table, Dennis flat-lining. Dennis dying.
He’s dying.
He’s dying, and there’s nothing Robby can do but watch it happen.
“Hold compressions.”
“V-fib.”
“Charging to 200.”
“Clear.”
“Sinus. He’s back. Ellis, get back on that bleeder, now. Mohan, another two units.”
Robby has no idea who says what. Can barely follow along. All he knows is that his heart is beating again. Not dying. He’s not dying. Staggers forward, all but crumbles to his knees. Barely manages to catch himself enough to stay standing. Presses his forehead to Dennis’ temple. Whispers nonsense to him, not even sure what it is he’s saying. Just a litany of you’re okay, I’m here, it’s gonna be okay, it’s all gonna be okay over and over and over. Repeats it because he needs it to be true.
“Got it, clamping now,” Ellis sounds as relieved as Robby feels.
“Minor little fucker for all the trouble it caused,” Abbot gripes.
“I’ll get the OR on the horn.”
“Not needed. We can suture and monitor down here.”
Robby knows he should be paying more attention. Knows he should care about the details. Should be asking a million questions. Hell, he should be down there looking for himself now. Now that the initial emergency is over. But he can’t seem to bring himself to move away from him. Can’t bring himself to take his forehead from his. Can’t bring himself to lose the skin-to-skin. Needs it, more than he needs to know what’s going on. Abbot will tell him later, he knows that. For now, it’s more important that he stays right where he is.
“Hey, there you are,” Robby murmurs when a noise lets him know Dennis is waking up again.
“Wha?”
“It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Gave us quite a scare there, Whitaker,” Abbot chimes in from where he’s stitching him closed, “Can you tell me where you are?”
“Work.”
“Close enough. And do you know what year it is? Who I am?”
“Don’t have a concussion,” he mumbles.
“Well la de da. You remember what happened?”
“Trees.”
“Trees?”
“They’re pretty.”
It makes Robby smile despite himself. Because that would be the thing that Dennis remembers and not the whole getting stabbed thing. Pulls out his pen light, checks his pupils anyway. Curses himself for not doing it earlier. He should have done it earlier. They’re both equal, reactive. Probably no concussion. Good. That’s good. So, remembering the trees and not the stabbing isn’t from head trauma; it’s just Dennis focusing on what he deems more important. Is so overcome with love for this man, he doesn’t know what to do with it, so he just presses a kiss to the end of his nose.
“Hi, baby," Dennis mumbles, smiling up at him.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“You two are sickening, you really are,” Abbot makes an exaggerated disgusted face.
“Oh fuck off.”
“In a minute, kinda piecing your boy toy back together right now.”
Mohan and Ellis both make unattractive snorting sounds, trying not to laugh.
“Not my boy toy.”
“I mean, I kinda am,” Dennis adds, making a so-so motion with one hand.
“I see the morphine is working well,” Mohan says with a smile.
“Mhmm,” he turns his head so he can look at Robby, “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“That’s good.”
“So you don’t have to look sad anymore. Don’t like it when you look sad.”
“Are they like this all the time?” Ellis stage whispers, leaning towards Mohan.
“No, they’re usually worse.”
“Horrible.”
“Truly.”
Robby looks up from Dennis to see them both smiling fondly at the two of them. Abbot’s smiling too, eyes on the stitches he’s doing. Robby thinks he should be embarrassed, that they’re all seeing him like this. But he isn’t. Because this isn’t the first time they’ve seen him be mushy when it comes to Dennis. He just brings it out in him. Not to mention, just a few minutes ago, he was literally dying. Can’t bring himself to care about anything other than the fact that he’s alive right now. Even though he knows he’s giving them all enough material to tease him with for the next year. Maybe even two.
“I’ll see about getting him a room down here,” and that’s Dana; he completely forgot she was in here.
“Thanks, Dana, you’re the best,” Dennis says with a somewhat loopy smile.
“And don’t you forget it, kid.”
“Dana? Do me a favor and swipe Robby out. I’m off tonight, so I’ll cover him.”
“You got it.”
She’s out of the room before Robby can appropriately object. He does stand up now, though he brings a hand up to tangle his fingers with Dennis’ when he makes a noise of protest. Smooths a thumb over the back of his hand. A silent I’m not leaving. Dennis squeezes his hand in response. Abbot doesn’t even look up; the bastard, just finishes the final stitch. Only then does he look over at Robby. Arches an eyebrow.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Your boy got stabbed. We both know your head isn’t gonna be anywhere but with him.”
“You just got off a twelve, I can-”
“I’m not so old that I can’t pull a double. Might even be nice, working a day shift. Get to see what you day dwellers get up to.”
“I-”
“I’m covering for you. End of discussion.”
“You focus on helping Whitaker. We’ll miss you, but we’ll be alright for one day," Mohan adds.
She sends him a look, full of empathy and kindness. Smiles that same smile that gets patients to open up to her, that gets their families to trust her. The one that makes her such a good doctor. Is glad that he never managed to kill that part of her. He tried, because he saw himself in her. Saw her drive and her brilliance. Tried to get her to abandon it, so it wouldn’t snuff her out the way it did to him. Wouldn’t kill her the way it almost killed him. Is so glad, in this moment, that he was unsuccessful.
“I can take a day off. I suppose.”
“It’ll be romantic. Just the two of you, nurses coming in and out, and the constant beep of machinery,” Abbot teases.
“Sounds nice,” Dennis says, looking at him with his big eyes, and Robby can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
Decides that as long as Dennis is there, alive and looking at him like he is right now, it won’t be so bad.