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The first person to notice was Trinity. Which wasn't surprising because Trinity noticed everything. Usually she weaponised this talent for evil and gossiping but sometimes she used it for good.
The thing was, Mel wasn't dramatic about being exhausted. Dennis got quiet when he was struggling. Victoria got sharp and defensive. Trinity got louder.
Mel just... kept going. That was what made it harder to spot.
The first few times Trinity caught it, she ignored it. Everyone was tired. They worked in emergency medicine. Being tired was practically part of the uniform.
Then she started noticing patterns.
Mel arrived at the last possible minute. Not late. Mel hated being late. But she arrived as close to the start of her shift as possible. When Mel had started at the Pitt she was always early, but as time went on, she stopped being early.
Then there was the food thing. Or lack of food thing. One afternoon Trinity watched Mel eat three crackers and call it lunch. She never seemed to bring enough food with her to last the shift.
By the end of the week she'd started paying attention properly. Mel never stayed after shift. Ever. No post-work drinks. No grabbing food. No hanging around while charts got finished. The second she could leave, she did.
At first Trinity assumed she was just antisocial. Then one evening they ended up charting beside each other. The department had finally settled after six straight hours of chaos. For once nobody was actively bleeding.
Trinity glanced up from her notes. “Hey Mel?”
“Hm?”
“How long does it actually take you to get home?”
Mel didn't even look up. “Depends on traffic.”
“That wasn't the question.”
“Hour twenty.”
Trinity froze. “Excuse me?”
Mel finally looked over. “Hour twenty.”
“Each way?”
“Usually.”
“Each way?”
Mel blinked. “Yeah.”
The horror must have shown on Trinity's face because Mel laughed slightly. Actually laughed. Like this was normal. Like spending nearly three hours commuting every day wasn't completely insane.
“What the hell?”
“It's fine.”
Trinity narrowed her eyes. “You're insane.”
“I know.”
“No, genuinely.”
Mel just smiled tiredly and went back to charting. Which somehow made it worse. Because she looked exhausted. The kind of tiredness that sat behind the eyes. The kind that didn't disappear after one good night's sleep.
Trinity watched her for another second before continuing. “What time did you wake up this morning?”
“Four thirty.”
—
Three days later Trinity cornered Robby. Not dramatically. Mostly because Robby had approximately seventeen ongoing crises and she'd need to queue.
He was standing at the central desk trying to drink coffee while simultaneously maintain conversations with two nurses, one resident, a pharmacist and somebody on the phone
Chief behaviour.
Trinity waited. Then waited some more. Then finally: “Dr Robby?”
“Hm?”
“I think Mel's drowning.”
That got his attention. Immediately. The phone conversation continued. The charting continued. But his eyes shifted toward her. Focused now. “Explain.”
Trinity leaned against the desk. “She commutes nearly three hours a day.”
Robby frowned. “What?”
“She gets up at four thirty.”
“What?”
“She never eats.”
“What?”
“She looks exhausted.”
The frown deepened.
Trinity watched him start doing maths in real time. That was the thing about Robby. The second somebody gave him a problem, he started calculating. You could practically see the numbers moving behind his eyes.
“She mentioned a sister she helps care for.” Robby concluded
“Yeah, I think she’s one of her main carers,” Trinity replied.
It seemed to confirm whatever equation Robby had been building. He made a quiet, dissatisfied noise. Not angry but worried. The concern settled properly into place. “Right.”
That single word made Trinity immediately feel better. Because now Robby knew. And once Robby knew something was wrong, it became remarkably difficult to struggle alone.
“Don't make it weird,” she warned.
“I don't make things weird.”
Trinity stared. Robby stared back.
“Dr Robby.”
“Dr Santos.”
“Just... keep an eye on her, okay?” Something in her tone softened the joke into something more genuine.
Robby glanced across the department again. Toward Mel. “I was already planning to.”
Trinity smiled slightly. “Yeah. I know.”
“Go do your charts,” he said.
“Yes, Dad.”
“Oi.”
She grinned. Then escaped before he could assign her actual work.
Behind her, Robby looked across the department. Straight toward Mel. Who was currently drinking cold coffee and typing notes with the determined focus of somebody trying very hard not to stop moving.
And for the first time in weeks, somebody was paying attention.
—
Robby didn't do anything immediately. That would've been suspicious.
And despite what Trinity seemed to believe, he did not spend his days wandering around the department looking for vulnerable members of junior staff to emotionally adopt. Mostly.
Instead, he watched and so he noticed things.
The following Monday he noticed Mel arrive at work carrying a coffee large enough to qualify as a life-support device.
Tuesday she spaced out three times during morning handover.
Wednesday she nearly walked into a supply cupboard because she was reading a message from her sister while trying to walk at the same time.
Thursday she ate half a granola bar at eleven in the morning and nothing else until nearly seven.
By Friday, Robby was annoyed. Not with Mel. With the situation.
Because once he'd started paying attention, he couldn't stop seeing it. The exhaustion. The constant rushing. The way she always seemed to be halfway out the door before her shift had even ended.
So the next Monday morning, he arrived carrying two coffees. One for himself. One for Mel.
She looked mildly alarmed when he set it down beside her workstation. “What’s this?”
“Coffee.”
“I can see that.”
“Good.”
Mel blinked at him. Robby took a sip from his own cup.
“Why?”
“You look tired.”
“I am tired.”
“Exactly.”
Something suspiciously close to a smile flickered across her face. “Thank you.”
“Don't make me regret it.”
—
The next day there was another coffee. Not because Robby planned it. It just happened. He was already stopping for coffee.
Mel looked exhausted. The maths seemed straightforward. By the end of the week she'd stopped questioning it. The coffee simply appeared. Like weather. Or taxes.
—
Jack followed his husband's lead.
The night shift was settling down when he wandered into the staff room carrying a large insulated bag that smelled aggressively of garlic and rosemary. Dinner apparently.
“How many people are you feeding?” Robby asked.
Jack looked genuinely puzzled. “All of them.”
“I can see that Yankl, but why?.”
Jack ignored him. Instead he started unpacking containers across the table. Pasta. Chicken.
Fresh vegetables and bread. Enough food to feed a small village.
Mel walked into the room halfway through this process and froze. “Oh! What's all this?”
“Dinner.”
“For everyone?”
“Mostly.” The answer sounded suspicious.
Mel narrowed her eyes. “Mostly?”
Jack pointed at one of the containers. “That one's yours.”
“What?”
“I had ingredients to get through. Might as well put it to good use.”
Robby nearly laughed. Across the table, Dana snorted loudly. Nobody believed that lie anymore. Jack ran his kitchen like a military mission. He stock rotated and never let anything go unused. No way he’d let this much food almost go bad.
“Dr Abbot….”
“Dr King.”
“I can't take that.”
“Yes you can. You're driving home after shift,” Jack said. “You'll get there at midnight and eat cereal.”
The silence that followed suggested he was correct.
Jack smiled triumphantly. “See?”
Mel looked betrayed. “You don't know that.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, I know exactly that.”
Five minutes later she left with dinner and enough leftovers for lunch tomorrow
Jack looked very pleased with himself.
—
Then somehow the others started helping. It just sort of happened.
Dennis began appearing with snacks. Victoria started sharing notes and study guides. Trinity periodically shoved protein bars into Mel's pockets without warning.
Once she found an energy drink waiting at her workstation with a sticky note attached.
For emergencies. Love Victoria
Another time Dennis appeared beside her desk holding a large water bottle.
Mel frowned. “What's this?”
“Hydration.”
“I own water.”
“You drank one cup during a twelve-hour shift.”
“That's not true.” Mel paused. “...it might be true.”
“Exactly.”
Then he walked away before she could argue.
The infection was spreading.
—
The strange thing was that nobody ever sat down and discussed it. No intervention. No grand plan. Just dozens of tiny things. Coffee appearing. Food appearing. People checking in.
Questions like ‘Have you eaten?’ or ‘How's your sister doing?’ or ‘What time are you getting home tonight?’
Questions that suggested people were paying attention and cared about the answer. And for someone who spent most of her life taking care of everyone else, that felt unexpectedly dangerous.
—
The first invitation came after a shift that seemed determined to last forever. Not because of any single catastrophe. Just an accumulation.
One trauma became three. Three became six. Half the department was short-staffed. The computers crashed twice. Somebody vomited in triage. Somebody else got arrested.
By the end of the day everyone looked vaguely haunted. Mel certainly felt haunted. Her shoulders ached. Her head hurt. And she'd been awake since four-thirty that morning.
The clock above the nurses' station read 9:17 PM. Which meant she still had over an hour's drive ahead of her. Wonderful.
She was finishing the last of her charting when Robby appeared beside her desk, just sort of materialised. “How much longer?”
Mel glanced up. “Ten minutes.”
“Hm.”
That sound. The one that meant he was thinking. Mel immediately became suspicious.
Robby looked toward the windows. The sky outside had already gone dark. Rain tapped steadily against the glass. “Traffic'll be awful.”
Mel followed his gaze. “Probably.”
“You tired?”
She laughed softly. “Is that a serious question?”
For a second neither spoke. The department buzzed around them with the strange exhausted energy that followed difficult shifts.
Then Robby said “You could stay over tonight.”
The words landed so casually that for a second Mel thought she'd imagined them.
“What?”
“At ours. You don't have to drive home exhausted.”
Mel blinked. The offer was so simple. So practical.
Which somehow made it harder. Because if Robby had made a big emotional thing out of it, she could've dismissed it. Instead he'd offered it the same way he'd offer someone an umbrella.
Robby waited. Not pushing. Just waiting.
Mel looked back down at her notes. “I appreciate it but my sister's expecting me. She'll worry if I don't come home, she needs her routine.”
Robby nodded once. No argument. “Okay.”
Relief and disappointment tangled together unexpectedly in Mel's chest. Because some small exhausted part of her had wanted him to insist. Wanted somebody else to make the decision.
Instead Robby respected the answer she'd given. As he always did. “You know the offer stands.”
The words came gently. Without expectation.
Mel swallowed. “Thank you.”
“Drive safe.” No lecture. No guilt. Just concern.
The conversation ended there.
A few minutes later she headed toward the staff exit carrying a container of beef and rice Jack had "accidentally" made too much of. The container was still warm.
Mel paused briefly outside the department doors.
Rain hammered steadily against the pavement beyond.
The drive home stretched ahead of her. Her phone buzzed.
A text from her sister.
Do you need to get food on your way home?
Mel smiled despite herself.
No. Got dinner.
A second message appeared almost immediately.
The doctor food again?
The doctor food.
Somehow that had become the official household term. Mel laughed softly.
Yeah. The doctor food.
Then she tucked the phone away and headed toward the car park.
Behind her, inside the department, Robby watched through the glass long enough to see her reach her car safely before finally turning away.
He didn't follow. Because sometimes caring for people wasn't convincing them to accept help. Sometimes it was simply making sure they knew it would be there when they were ready.
—
The thing that finally changed everything wasn't exhaustion. Or coffee. Or even leftovers.
It was traffic.
More specifically, a multi-vehicle collision involving two lorries, six cars, and a stretch of highway Mel drove almost every day.
The alert came through just after eight in the evening. At first nobody paid much attention. Major collisions happened. Unfortunately. The Pitt received updates constantly.
Robby glanced up from the board. Then frowned. Looked again. And frowned harder. “Dr King.”
She looked up from her charting. “Hm?”
Robby pointed toward the screen. “Isn't that your route?”
The question immediately pulled Trinity and Dennis into the conversation.
Mel looked up. Saw the location. Paused. “Oh.”
Not a reassuring oh.
The highway closure stretched for miles. Traffic already backing up. Estimated delays climbing steadily. Ninety minutes. Two hours. Longer.
Dennis actually looked horrified. “That's how you get home?”
“Usually. It's fine though, I’ll figure it out.”
—
An hour later it was very clearly not fine. Dr Abbot and the night shift had arrived, bringing with them bad news. The situation had worsened. More closures and longer delays. Rain had started. The sort of miserable cold rain that made night driving even worse.
Mel stood in the staff room staring at her phone. Maps glowed red. Every route home looked terrible. One route estimated three hours. Another estimated nearly four.
Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.
A familiar voice appeared behind her. “You're not driving that.”
Robby.
Of course. Mel didn't even need to turn around. “I'll figure it out.”
“No.”
The answer arrived immediately. Not angry. Just final.
Mel sighed. “Dr Robby-”
“Dr King.”
That tone. The one that meant he wasn't speaking as her attending anymore. Or at least not entirely. She turned and looked at Robby standing in the doorway holding a coffee he clearly didn't need. The expression on his face looked suspiciously similar to the one he used when patients attempted stupid things.
“I can take a different route.”
“Three and a half hours.”
“I've done worse.”
“That doesn't help your argument.”
Unfortunately it really didn't. Mel looked back down at her phone. The traffic hadn't improved. Neither had the weather.
A tiny exhausted part of her wanted somebody else to make the decision. Which was dangerous.
Because Robby seemed entirely willing to volunteer. “You can stay over.”
Same offer. No pressure.
Mel closed her eyes briefly. “I'll be fine.”
“You'll be exhausted.”
“Probably.”
“You'll get home after midnight.”
“Probably.”
“You were awake before five.”
Robby waited. Patient.
Mel hated how tempting the offer suddenly sounded. A bed. No motorway. No three-hour drive through the rain. Just sleep. The problem was that accepting felt suspiciously close to admitting she needed help. And Mel wasn't particularly good at that.
“Just stay.” Trinity had appeared somehow.
Nobody heard her arrive.
“Jesus Christ.”
“That's a no then?”
“Where did you come from?”
“Not important.”
Dennis materialised beside her a second later. Then Victoria.
Apparently word had spread.
“Come on, it’ll be fun, I’m staying tonight too,” Victoria added.
Mel stared. “You guys are acting like I'm driving through a hurricane.”
“Mel,” Dennis said carefully. “Yesterday you tried to badge into your car.”
“...that was a one off.”
“You apologised to it afterwards.”
“I was tired.”
Trinity pointed triumphantly. “Exactly.”
“You're all being ridiculous.”
“And you're trying to drive three hours home after being awake since four-thirty.”
“I can make my own decisions.”
“Historically, not always good ones.”
The argument lasted approximately ten more seconds before Robby interrupted. “Children.”
Immediate silence. The power of dad voice.
Mel watched it happen in real time. A little terrifying. A little impressive.
Robby looked back at her. “You don’t have to do this alone, Mel. You’re tired, let us help.”
It was true. She was tired. Worn down. Deeply, endlessly exhausted. The kind that had become normal. And maybe that was the problem.
—
An hour later Mel found herself standing outside a large old house feeling a level of embarrassment she hadn't quite figured out what to do with. Robby had driven her to his house, promising to take her back the next day for her car. This was probably for the best as she couldn’t keep her eyes open on the relatively short drive.
When they arrived Trinity’s Honda was already in the driveway. She had sped out of the staff car park claiming she’d beat them home and that it was a race. Robby had shouted back to drive carefully and then spent the whole journey with a light scowl on his face.
Robby led her up to the house with her bag on his shoulder alongside his own, refusing to let her carry it. He unlocked the front door. “Welcome to the madhouse.”
“That's not reassuring.”
“It shouldn't be.”
From somewhere upstairs came Trinity's voice- “SHE'S HERE?” Followed immediately by: “VICTORIA MOVE.”
Then running footsteps. Mel looked alarmed. “What is happening?”
“Honestly?” Robby shrugged. “No idea.”
A blur of bodies appeared at the top of the stairs. Then immediately came hurtling down them.
Mel had just enough time to look alarmed before Trinity reached her first. “Hi.”
“Hi?”
“Excellent. You're staying.”
“I haven't actually-”
Dennis appeared beside her and smoothly lifted her bag out of her hand. “Got it.”
“What?”
“Got it.”
“That's my bag.”
Victoria arrived a second later. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Sleepover.”
Mel looked toward Robby. Robby looked remarkably unhelpful.
“Traitor,” she informed him. Then the kids stole her. There was really no other word for it.
One minute she was standing in the hallway. The next she was being shepherded upstairs by three pseudo-siblings who had apparently decided this was now a group activity.
“Trinity.”
“Yes?”
“I haven't agreed to anything.”
“You came through the front door.”
“That isn't legally binding.”
“It’s good enough for me.”
The arguing faded gradually upstairs. Doors opening. More voices. Laughter.
Mel was herded upstairs and into a bedroom at the end of the hall. Two bunk beds occupied one wall, with desks, bookshelves and an impressive amount of medical textbooks filling most of the remaining space.
Victoria pointed upward. “Top bunk's mine.” Then she pointed at the lower one. “Bottom bunk is currently yours.”
Mel blinked. “Currently?”
“We're not making any long-term decisions until you've survived Trinity's sleepover rules.”
“I don't have sleepover rules.”
“You absolutely have sleepover rules.”
“Name one.”
Dennis looked up from where he'd dumped Mel's bag. “No sad conversations after midnight.”
“That's a good rule.”
“No studying in bed.”
“That's also a good rule.”
“No true crime podcasts after ten.”
“Okay that one exists for a reason.”
Mel laughed despite herself. The room looked comfortable. Lived in and a little chaotic. Textbooks stacked on desks. Spare blankets folded at the end of the beds. Fairy lights strung along one wall. It felt strangely normal.
Ten minutes later there was a knock.
“Come in.”
Robby appeared carrying a large bowl of popcorn, four cans of soda and the resigned expression of a man enabling nonsense
The room immediately erupted. “You brought snacks!”
“Of course I brought snacks.”
“You said we weren't having snacks.”
“I lied.”
“Dad behaviour. You're the soft parent.”
“Trinity.”
Robby set everything down on the nearest desk. For a moment he simply looked around the room, observing the occupants of the room before settling on Mel, who was looking more relaxed than she had in months. Warm light. Easy laughter. Safe.
Satisfied, he nodded once. “Try not to stay up until three in the morning.” The immediate silence told him everything. “You're going to stay up until three in the morning.”
“Maybe.”
“Goodnight, children.”
Then he escaped before anyone could rope him into whatever sleepover nonsense was already beginning.
As the door closed behind him, Mel found herself smiling. For the first time in a very long time, there was nowhere she needed to be. And for one night at least, that felt wonderful.
—
Across the city, Jack Abbot was vaguely suspicious that he would come home to one more mouth to feed. The fact that this had become a reasonable concern said a great deal about his husband. Given Robby's track record, it felt less like paranoia and more like pattern recognition at this point.
Then again, if history was any indication, she'd fit right in.