Chapter Text
Robby’s patient satisfaction scores are low. They’re actually the lowest they’ve ever been, and Robby knows what that means for him. Which only serves to put him even more on-edge.
Jack notices first, of course. They’re attuned to each other in a way that only Dana, really, understands.
“Can we talk?” Jack asks.
Robby doesn’t look up from the chart he’s reading.
“We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”
“I think we could use some privacy. Like in the family room.”
Robby looks up. He sighs, crosses his arms, and holds his elbows.
“Why?”
“Because we need to discuss something, and I need you to be honest with me.”
There’s a shift in Robby’s posture. Jack can see him thinking hard about what Jack wants to talk to him about.
“Is this about my scores?”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me.”
“Okay,” Robby says after a few breathless seconds. “Okay. Five minutes. That’s it. That’s all I can do, or else I’ll—”
Jack lets out a breath.
“No, that’s perfect. That’s okay. I’ll meet you over there.”
That’s good. It’s enough time to get him talking, Jack thinks.
Robby rushes to tell Jack what’s been going on because if he stops and starts and takes his time with it, he knows he’ll lose his nerve and break down, which he can’t do because he hasn’t finished the hand-over yet.
“Wait, they’re making you do service calls?” Jack asks, incredulous.
Robby nods rapidly. He sits down heavily on the couch, completely drained over whatever fumes he’d been running on. Jack sits beside him, his body offering a comforting warmth for Robby to lean into. Jack gives in to the urge to wrap his arm around Robby, and Robby sinks into the embrace until his head is resting on Jack’s shoulder. It’s one of his favorite places to rest.
“But you’re an attending,” Jack says.
“Yeah.”
“That’s—That’s intern shit. Med students get credit hours for it. Residents do it as a rotation.”
“Uh huh.”
“Does Gloria know?”
Robby lets out a humorless laugh.
“Who do you think informed me?”
“Holy shit. That’s—”
But Jack struggles to find the right word.
“I know. But it’s whatever, right? I’m good at it. That’s how we got the Hope Foundation to contribute the physical therapy wing, remember? It’ll be fine.”
Jack shakes his head. Robby was saying more to convince himself instead of Jack.
“You should appeal,” Jack says. “We’ll make ’em see how ridiculous they’re being.”
“Jack...”
Robby moves to sit up, and Jack reluctantly let’s go of him. He looks deep into Robby’s big brown eyes, sees the crows feet and the smile lines. Whatever else he was going to say dies on his lips.
“There’s nothing to appeal, Jack. The numbers don’t lie.”
And maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t make his heartache any better. After everything Robby has done for the Pitt, surely he should be given more grace and leniency than this.
“It’s okay,” Robby whispers. “I’ll be okay.”
Jack cups Robby’s face in his hands, and Robby lovingly clasps Jack’s wrists.
“I’ll go with you,” he says. “I’ll be your bodyguard or whatever.”
When Robby doesn’t balk or deflect, Jack knows it’s serious.
“Thank you, Jack.”
Robby does something unexpected then. He turns his head and kisses the center of Jack’s palm before letting go of Jack’s wrists and standing up. He holds a hand out to Jack to help him up, and Jack gratefully takes it, standing with a grunt.
“Let’s finish the hand-over and get you out of here,” Jack says.
“From your lips to God’s ears.”