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“So I have an idea,” Trinity starts as everyone gathers in the break room, stowing lunches, “What if we all just went home instead?”
“I think the night shift might object to that,” Mel says, shoving her lunch box into the fridge.
“And I need the money,” Dennis adds, though just going home doesn’t sound that bad if he’s honest.
“I brought cupcakes,” Emma singsongs as she walks in, container in hand.
“Why?” Langdon asks.
“'Cause it’s my birthday."
“I think you might be confused about how birthdays work. Other people are supposed to bring you treats, not the other way around,” McKay says with a fond shake of her head.
“I know, but,” she drags out the word, “I wanted an excuse to bake. So dig in.”
“What kind are they?”
“Blueberry honey with lavender buttercream.”
“Fancy.”
Emma pops the top off the container. One is already missing, no doubt on the nurses' station, waiting for Dana. She makes a circle of the room, encouraging everyone to take one. He does, because they do look good. The icing on top is even swirled, like she did it with a piping bag and not just a spoon like his Ma used to. Fancy indeed. Everyone looks at each other, toasts their cupcake in the air, before taking a bite. The room erupts in a cacophony of happy noises, and Emma’s smile somehow gets even wider in response.
“Holy shit,” McKay gasps, and everyone nods in agreement.
“Good?”
“Amazing,” Langdon says, shoving the rest of his in his mouth.
“I need a dozen for just myself pronto,” Santos says, “Seriously, I’ll pay you.”
“Let me get in on that too,” McKay throws out, and Langdon nods.
“You don’t need to pay me. I like baking, but thank you.”
“I’m stealing half,” Dennis tells Trin, just to watch her sputter.
“Are not, get your own.”
“I’ll make enough for you both,” Emma laughs, grin huge.
The door to the room opens, Robby’s head poking in, “Whitaker, Langdon, McKay with me. Trauma two.”
He nods, shoves the rest of his cupcake in his mouth. Watches McKay do the same out of the corner of his eye. The three of them hustle towards where EMTs are rolling in the patient. Hears pedestrian versus car. McKay starts the E-FAST, he goes to manage the airway, just in case. Langdon and Robby work together to pinpoint what needs fixed. Things have been better between them lately. Not the way they were his first day, before shit hit the fan, but not as tense as they were before Robby went on sabbatical. Not fixed, not healed, but better. Hopes it continues to improve. Knows how hard it was, for both of them when they weren’t getting along.
“Tamponade and fluid in the Douglas pouch,” McKay reports.
“Get surgery on the phone.”
“On it,” Princess says, moving towards the phone, and he startles; he hadn’t even noticed her come in.
“SATs dropping.”
“Get an airway.”
Dennis does. Takes the laryngoscope from Langdon when he hands it to him. Has the tube in and the patient bagged in under thirty seconds. Feels something swell in his chest at Robby’s nice one. Langdon rolls his eyes, but winks when Robby looks away. A clear sign that he’s just messing with him. Does that a lot, the teasing about him and Robby. Thinks it should maybe bother him more than it does. But it doesn’t. Kinda makes him feel like one of the guys. Like how they tease Langdon about Mel, and Donnie about his wife. Just a group of guys who adore their partners. It’s nice, being included for once.
“What’s up, party people?” Garcia asks as she enters the room.
“Nice of you to show up,” Langdon snarks, but he’s still smiling.
“The party doesn’t start until I do. What do we got?”
McKay starts listing injuries. Tamponade, fluid in the Douglas pouch, several compound fractures. Garcia nods, looks things over. Snarks at Langdon some more, because they just can’t help themselves. Robby makes eye contact with him, makes a face like can you believe these two. Dennis just shrugs, keeps bagging. Garcia is asking questions, but he doesn’t have the answers, so he doesn’t pay much attention to them. Just keeps bagging, hands it over to one of the surgery assistants when they arrive.
“Alright, Autobots roll out,” Garcia announces, heading towards the door.
“Nerd,” Langdon calls after her, cackles when she flips him off over her shoulder.
Garcia and her team leave. They all take a collective breath, let it out slow. Exit single file, pulling off gloves as they do. Dennis brings up the rear, adrenaline seeping out. As it leaves its replaced by something. What he has no idea. It’s not something he’s felt before. Not the usual post case come down he expects. No, this is different. Throat tight, breathing wrong. Difficult, too fast. Head light, dizzy in a way he hasn’t felt before. Tries to clear his throat, thinks that might help. Is shocked by the wheeze that comes out. Something’s wrong, something’s really wrong.
“Hey, you okay, Whitaker?” Langdon, that’s Langdon.
Tries to shake his head, tries to tell him he’s not. Regrets it as soon as he does, because the motion makes the dizziness worse. Stumbles a step, would have fallen, had arms not caught him. Langdon, Langdon caught him. Feels him lower him to the floor. Blinks and he’s staring up at the ceiling, tries to take in a breath, and feels panic take over because he can’t. He can’t breathe. Lifts a hand, claws at his throat. Because he can’t breathe, he can’t.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”
Feels a hand grab his, keeping it from tearing at his skin. Langdon, Langdon is helping him. Tries to say thank you or help or I don’t want to die, tries to say anything at all. All that comes out is a wheeze, raspy and ugly and horrible to listen to. Langdon makes a soothing sound, the same tone he’s heard him use on the phone with his kids, and it should sound patronizing, but it doesn’t. Just sounds comforting, like everything’s gonna be okay.
“I need an EPIPen and some help over here,” Langdon shouts.
Footsteps come running, what sounds like a small herd of them. Langdon is talking to him, and he’s trying to listen, trying to focus, but he can’t. Because he can’t breathe and he’s scared. Hasn’t felt this level of fear in years, not since he left home. Not since juggling his Pa’s temper was just part of life. Not since one foot out of line meant bruises hidden under long-sleeved shirts and repenting for sins he didn’t even know he committed. Because this fear isn’t new, isn’t the first time he’s felt it. He’s been scared of dying before. Knows the feeling intimately. But it’s been long enough that he kinda forgot how terrifying it is.
“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re okay. We’ve got you.”
Robby. That’s Robby. Feels a pinch in his thigh. Hears a click. Epipen. Feels hands on him, someone lifting his head. They cradle his skull, gentle, lowers it back down. Robby’s lap. His head is in his lap. Has spent enough evenings in this exact place to know. Blinks, looks around. Sees Mel, Santos, Dana, practically everyone hovering nearby. Trinity looks near tears, and he hates it, because he knows her and she doesn’t cry, not where people can see. Knows that means she must be really worried.
“Breathe, you need to breathe,” Robby all but begs.
And he wants to say he can’t. But when he tries, he can. Relief, overwhelming and euphoric, rushes through him. He can breathe again. Sucks in another breath, then another, and another. Knows he should try to breathe normally, but he can’t, not when the relief of being able to actually breathe again is so strong. Gasps, sucks in lungfuls of air. Feels his heart rate shoot up, tachy. Knows that’s normal because of the epi. Feels his hands start to shake, realizes only when they do that there’s hands holding his. Robby, fingers laced with his right hand. And Langdon, holding his left hand between both of his.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he pants.
“Nothing to be sorry for. You had an anaphylactic reaction, but you’re okay now. Deep breaths, that’s good. There you go.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Hey, none of that,” Robby whispers, brings the hand not holding Dennis' up to his face, cups his cheek, “Langdon’s right. Nothing to be sorry for. You’re okay now, that’s all that matters.”
“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” repeats it because he has to, because he feels like he needs to.
And part of him knows, that the anxiety he’s feeling is normal. Knows it’s because his blood pressure went rapidly from too low to something closer to normal. He’s a doctor, he knows that. But there’s a part of him that feels the need to apologize, to repent. To offer himself up for whatever punishment they deem fit for his failure. Knows it isn’t like that, not anymore. Knows his Pa is miles and miles away. But the last time he felt like this, the last time he almost died, he’d been made to apologize for what he did wrong. Still isn’t sure, all these years later, what it even was. What mistake, what flaw in the core of who he is made his Pa so mad that night, just knows it had been something. Knows he didn’t do anything wrong now, knows he has nothing to apologize for, but old habits die hard. Feels the need to say it anyway.
“Here, let’s get you sitting up.”
Langdon uses his hold on his hand to leverage him to sitting. It makes him dizzy, and he leans back into Robby’s chest. Lets him take his weight while he concentrates on breathing normally and not throwing up. Langdon lets go of his hand, but stays nearby, both hands out, like he’s ready to catch him should he fall again. It means more to him than he can say. Hasn’t had many people in his life willing to catch him. Willing to hold his hand, to soothe him when he’s scared. To do all that and expect nothing in return. To do it just to do it, and not expect their pound of flesh after. It means everything, and he has no idea how to tell him.
Settles for, “Thank you.”
“No problem, man. You’d do it for me.”
Nods, because he would. Let's his head thunk back against Robby’s shoulder. Feels lips on his temple, smiles. Grins bigger when he sees Langdon mouth loser. Has no idea if it’s directed at him or Robby. Robby probably. As if Langdon has any leg to stand on. Like Dennis didn’t watch him peel a clementine for Mel the other day because she wanted one, but hates the way they make her hands smell. Wants to say takes one to know one. Tries, but he’s still shaking, still breathing a little too heavy, still kinda dizzy. Heart still beating too fast. Feels a little too warm, isn’t sure if that’s the epi or the attention. All the eyes he can feel on him.
“Easy, sweetheart, easy,” Robby hums into his hair, kisses the back of his head.
“I’m okay, I’m alright now.”
“You are,” Langdon agrees, “but we’re gonna get you in a room for monitoring just in case. See if we can’t figure out what caused that.”
“I don’t need a room. I’m okay now.”
“Doctor’s orders,” Dana says, “and if not doctor’s, charge nurses. And I know you know better than to argue with me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Up you get,” Langdon stands, holds his hands out.
Between him and Robby, they get him to his feet. He sways, a little. But then Princess is there with a wheelchair, and he’s being guided into it by Robby’s hands and Dana’s sharp glare. Doesn’t even try to fight it. Feels hands on his face, Robby’s. Lets him fuss because he knows he needs it. Offers a smile, has no idea how reassuring it actually is, but he tries. An attempt was made, as Trin would say. Finds her eyes in the crowd, offers her the same smile. Can tell by her face it isn’t as reassuring as he was hoping, but it’s something.
Everybody slowly disbands, going back to other things. Langdon pats his shoulder before walking away. Mel wrings her hands in that way he knows means she’s feeling anxious. Is glad when he sees Langdon head over to her. Knows he’ll take care of her. Dana sends him a look that clearly means call me if you need me. McKay smiles, that warm smile she always has. The one that makes you feel like everything is right with the world and it’s all gonna be okay. Must be a mom thing, not that his mom ever smiled at him like that. Must be a good mom thing. Not that his mom was bad, she did her best. He knows that, even if her best wasn’t always very good, he knows she tried.
Robby rolls him to north 6, Santos follows. They both help him transfer to the bed, and he’d make a joke about mother hens if he thought that they’d laugh. Knows they won’t, not right now. Maybe later. Though, he doubts Santos would ever find it funny. Might say it anyway, just to watch her object. Settles onto the bed. Robby hooks him up to the machines while Santos brings up his medical file. Already knows what she’ll find. No known allergies. Because he doesn’t have any. Or didn’t, until today. Until he was on the ground, fighting to breathe.
“Let’s go through what you ate today,” Robby says, because he already knows he has no known allergies.
“I didn’t eat anything today, you know that. We were running late.”
“Just the cupcake,” Santos muses, typing something.
“The cupcake?” Robby questions.
“The cupcake,” Santos answers.
That’s the only thing he’s eaten today. The only deviation from routine. But that can’t be. He’s had cupcakes before. It’d been a vanilla cupcake, with honey and blueberries in it. It’d been good. And nothing he hadn’t had before. Not that it’s impossible for him to have developed a spontaneous allergy, it could happen. But he’d had vanilla cake just the other day and been fine. And he puts honey on his toast all the time and never has any problems. Same with blueberries, makes blueberry pancakes at least once a week, no issues. Same with buttercream, has had it somewhat recently and was fine. Tries to remember the last time he had something lavender. Thinks and thinks and thinks.
“The lavender.”
“What?” Santos asks.
“I’ve never had lavender before.”
“You’ve never had lavender before? Not even in tea?”
“I grew up in the middle of nowhere; our idea of fancy tea was green.”
“Tragic. Well, we’ll have to test to confirm, but congratulations, looks like you were almost taken out by a flower.”
“Not funny,” Robby says, tone sharp.
“Sorry, Boss.”
A tap at the door, “Robby, need you in trauma two.”
“I’m bus-”
“He’ll be right there.”
Robby opens his mouth to argue, and Dennis holds a finger to his lips. Dana quirks a brow but leaves the room. Santos covers her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. Dennis looks up at him, grins. Robby’s eyes narrow, and for a second, he thinks he’s going to do something childish like lick his finger. Doesn’t, thankfully. Knows Santos would never let him live it down if he did. Also knows if she wasn’t there, he probably would have. Because he may be in his fifties, but he’s also sometimes five.
“Go.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t worry, Boss, I won’t let him. I’ll break out the cupcakes if I have to.”
“Still not funny, Santos.”
“It was a little funny.”
“Go,” Dennis says, before they can start to argue.
Robby kisses his forehead, his cheek, his lips, before jogging from the room. Trinity makes it a point to mime gagging. He flips her off. Settles back into the bed. Feels like he could sleep for a week. Let's Santos do her own version of fussing. Draws blood for labs, roasts him for never having had lavender before. Robby doesn’t come back right away, which he knew he wouldn’t. He has an ED to run, and Dennis is fine. Tries to shoo Santos out several times, but she never leaves. Wonders who she had to bribe to be allowed to stay in here with him. Wonders who’s taking both their share of the patients. He’ll have to ask so he can thank them. It’s nice, not being alone after all that.
Would love to have Robby here. A cuddle would be so good right about now. But Santos is nice too. The big sister he still doesn’t feel like he deserves. The one who took him in when he needed it. Who helped him when she didn’t have to because that’s just the kind of person she is. Who gave him food and clothing and shelter. Who did it all without expecting, without wanting, anything in return. Knows he’ll never be able to pay her back. Has no idea how to even start. How do you pay back that kind of care? How do you pay back the knowledge that older siblings can love you just the way you are? Accept you for who you are? He has no idea. He’ll spend the rest of his life trying to figure it out, though.
Wishes they’d met sooner, wishes they’d been able to grow up together. Not as siblings, because the thought of her growing up like he did makes him want to vomit. Already knows he would have done everything in his power to keep his Pa’s temper and fists directed towards himself and not her. Did it for his Ma, would have done it even more for Trinity. For his stubborn, heart too big, older sister. No, no, not siblings. Best friends. Someone who lived down the road. Who left the window open for him, so he had somewhere to go when the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Someone who’d patch him up and let him sleep in her bed with her just so he didn’t have to go home just yet. Thinks maybe they’d both be a little less broken, if they’d had each other back then.
Another knock, Emma this time, “Hey, I brought you another blanket. Thought you might be cold. And I wanted to, um, apologize. For the ‘almost killing you with a baked good’ thing.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I just feel so bad.”
“It’s really okay. I didn’t even know; you couldn’t have predicted it. No harm done.”
“Might want to cancel my order for more, though,” Santos teases, “Since we live together.”
“I’ll make something else. No lavender, promise.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, she does. I want cupcakes.”
“Not helping.”
“I want to make you something,” Emma laughs, all sunshine, “How do you feel about lemon and blueberry?”
“Sounds great.”
“Awesome. I’ll let you rest now.”
“Thanks, Emma.”
She closes the door behind her, and the room falls into silence. Dennis relaxes into the bed, closes his eyes. Really wants to sleep. Knows he won’t be able to. Not with the monitor behind him, beep, beep, beeping away. Santos sits down in the chair by the bed, props her feet up on the edge. Nudges him when he says make yourself at home. Knows she’s hovering because he scared her. Reaches out without looking. There’s a second before she takes his hand in hers. He squeezes, I’m okay. She squeezes back, don’t you ever fucking do that again. Neither of them say it out loud. They don’t have to; they both hear it anyway.
“Langdon helped you.”
“He did.”
“You know what that means, right?”
“What?”
“I’m gonna have to start being nice to the fucker.”
It startles a laugh out of him, “Not too nice though, I think it might kill him.”
“I’m never too nice.”
And he doesn’t answer her out loud, just gives her hand another squeeze, yeah, you are.