Chapter Text
It had officially been three weeks since his sabbatical began, and Michael Robinavitch was already miserable. It was supposed to be his self-healing journey - a semblance of peace, away from the everyday chaos. Just him, his bike, the road and (oh god, finally) some quiet. He thought he deserved a little rest after working nonstop for years in a place that once felt like a second home.
But ever since that one gruelling shift, the hospital felt alien to him. The night of the Pittfest festival shooting left a lasting mark on him; he was never quite the same after that day. The endless beeping monitors, the surge of new, unfamiliar colleagues, and that cold moment when he snapped at a resident for asking the simplest question - all weighed heavy on his mind.
The breaking point came when he found himself stranded in pedes, suddenly alone and terrified of getting up. For a moment, he just sat there, head in his hands, desperately trying to take in a breath that wasn’t a short and shallow gasp. The pounding of his heart, now louder, drowned out the noise outside. He felt the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. His body was tense and trembling from the adrenaline rushing through him. The world had narrowed to the small patch of clean floor beneath his feet.
A panic attack. He realised then that being needed by the hospital had turned into feeling suffocated. He needed to get out while there was still some sanity left to save.
Also, as if his memories from the quarantine weren’t enough, along came the new rotations - all the new faces at the hospital and the feelings that came along with them. It was just too much to bear at once. He needed to run, and he needed it now. The way he left, though... well, it wasn’t his finest moment… he’d admit that.
And so, he ran. Or rather, he rode - out into the open air, away from the hospital, away from his responsibilities, and away from him. The wide road stretched in front of him as he rode his bike into the sunset. The warm wind felt sharp as it hit his face. The engine's steady rumble was the only comfort on this unknown path. Robby felt free on his bike, and for a second, he let the moment, the movement, and the noise fill his mind completely. He tried to believe that maybe out here, on his own with no distractions, he could leave everything behind. Escape the loud siren in his mind. Forget the struggle, forget about him. And yet, he couldn’t. His mind raced, replaying everything that happened during his last shift. All he could think of was the conversations he’d left unfinished in Pittsburgh. Why did he go again?
Loneliness was supposed to be a comfort, a solace, but tonight it pressed in, cold and sharp, poking at him, mocking his attempt at running away. It wasn’t a great feeling…
The road kept going as thoughts flooded his mind. It was supposed to be just him, the wind, and peace. But the heaviness in his chest grew with each turn and was getting harder to ignore. The roar of the wind in his ears helped a little - until it didn’t. Now it was only a dull echo of it somewhere in the back of his mind. Silence fell in the space behind his visor as he gripped the throttle tighter. Dennis’s name hung in the air, haunting his thoughts, waiting - just as it had in the hospital's bright corridors. His own words echoed loudly in his brain as the memory replayed on a loop. If I don’t come back. His cruel tone was now bitter on his tongue as he recalled those words. Why did he even say that?
Maybe, somewhere inside, he meant it at first. There was a part of him that thrived knowing that he left people worried. The selfish part of him wanted to provoke someone into forcing him to stay. He knew, though, that no matter what he said, in the end, no one would intervene. He was too stubborn for anyone to even try to stop him. They knew all too well that Robby was the kind of person who, no matter what, had to have the last word. It didn’t even matter what it was; he needed to be right, even when he knew how wrong he was.
Inside, his thoughts wandered to his friends - or at least those he considered friends. There was so much he still wanted to say, but for a reason not even known to him, he kept silent. He’d been distracted that day, and he knew the new attending had shaken him with her energy and ideas. Worst of all, he hadn’t really thought about the words he so carelessly threw around. He had everyone worried, and for what? For a bit of sympathy? Whether he was sincere or not, he didn’t care then, and he certainly didn’t want to care now.
As his thoughts raced, Dennis Whittaker’s image appeared in his mind. Again. He remembered their break-room talk - Dennis’s worried look, shaky voice, and the outstretched hand that never met his - no matter how much Robby wished otherwise. When their eyes finally met (Robby tried avoiding it as long as possible; he knew he’d fold like a lawn chair), that’s when the sharp sting of guilt struck Robby hardest - a silent reminder of everything he’d left unsaid. He had a plan. A simple one, but he made one nonetheless. He had wanted to tell Dennis how he really felt, and he was truly going to. He had longed for the boy for months now, and it was getting harder to keep himself in check. Since the day they met, Robby felt drawn to him. Over time, as they worked together, that feeling grew into an obsession. Robby knew his feelings were too strong and that he needed distance. He was too old for Dennis, but couldn’t help but wonder: what if?
That’s why he asked Dennis to house sit - to keep him close, even apart. Learning about Dennis's relationship with Amy - platonic or not - made Robby jealous, a new feeling for him. Dennis made moving on difficult. Frankly, he made all of Robby's decisions difficult. His entire being made Robby want to drop whatever he was doing just for a glance. For the possibility of interaction or a crossing of their paths. Everything about Dennis - his looks, smile, smarts, and gentleness - haunted Robby’s every move, always reminding him of what he could have, but shouldn’t. Their professional bond - especially after Robby lost Langdon, whose betrayal lingered in his mind as a constant ache - made Dennis even more important. Dennis always seemed to know exactly what Robby was thinking, making it harder to hide how much he cared for the boy.
Robby felt he had to leave before those feelings could show. He was terrified of them ever coming to light. He was Dennis’s superior. This was, in the best-case scenario, a potential trip to HR - and straight home in the worst. He was already paranoid about people finding out, as if he actually hid it well. Dana figured it out almost instantly, and had often teased him about it, but thank god she kept it quiet. The lingering looks, though… they were not helping. Not even a bit. But he just couldn’t help himself. He kept looking, drawing more attention to it, and that was the last thing he needed.
And though sometimes Dennis seemed to reciprocate, Robby reminded himself it was impossible for anything to happen between them. Forget anything that happens inside the hospital. Forget their interactions regarding patients. Exactly - nothing else is there. They’d never met outside work - except maybe the parking lot by the hospital. He wasn’t even sure Dennis liked him as a person. What would they even talk about? Well, it didn’t matter. Robby was too nervous anyway. He’d never gather up the courage to ask him out - or even approach him if they happened to be in the same bar. No, he was not going to even think about that. Robby knew he was in too deep - and now was, quite literally, running from it.
The redness of the sunset had already faded as Robby reached another stop on his way. The dimming light seemed to seep into him, bleeding the last traces of warmth from both the landscape and his racing mind. Each lengthening shadow reminded him how far he felt from everyone he left behind.
He took a long, searching look around the space he would call his for the next few days and sighed. The long hours on the road and his age did not agree in the slightest. As he stretched his back, a faint yawn escaped his lips, showing the signs of just how tired Robby felt. He parked his motorcycle and gently got off. Watching the winds rustle the leaves on various plants in his vision gave him a sense of calm. After the long journey, it was exactly what he needed.
The darkening sky cloaked the bed and breakfast that stood off to the side, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Its modest presence on the edge of the cliff echoed the uncertainty Robby felt, exposed and alone. He took off his helmet, and the sharp, salty scent of the ocean immediately filled his nose, biting him awake, tethering him to a present he didn’t quite want to be in. The only barrier between him and the steep drop to the beach below was a worn fence, brittle and faded by the elements, mirroring how fragile and weathered he felt inside. Above, the sky had darkened into a vast, vacant space, reflecting the emptiness he carried - a clarity that could just as easily be loneliness. The hush in the air brought peace - a silent space after the noise in his mind and on the road. Now that the adrenaline of the ride wasn’t filling his veins, the cold breeze made him shiver, brushing against his face and hands, making the ache of wanting - wanting comfort, wanting connection - sharper. He turned toward the inn behind him, a small grey building with white balconies overlooking the ocean. Its big white windows gave back nothing but the stark, clear night, reinforcing that, for now at least, he would have to find solace in the solitude.
Robby sighed deeply as he grabbed his bag and started walking toward the entrance. He shot one last look at his bike, now standing cold and alone in the dark of the night, only a soft glow catching on its polish. There was a time he wouldn’t have taken a stop. Now he knew better. As he made his way along the cobbled walkway, a big white sign briefly caught his eye. The white chalk, a little smudged after a long day outside, matched the bright border of the board. Robby took a closer look at the photos next to the writing. It was apparently a menu, served to the guests. The pancakes looked great - holy shit.
He entered through the white double door and slowly moved along, looking around the place with curious eyes. Inside, the space wasn’t even half as small as it had seemed from the outside. Robby took a quick glance around, his eyes searching for the front desk - his target for the moment.
It was a beautiful space, clearly loved by the owner. From the outside, it was obviously well-cared-for; inside, however, it was even more breathtaking. As Robby walked in through the front door, he found himself in a lovely, bright lobby. The walls were lined with light blue and white stripes throughout. There were two light blue sofas by the window with a huge stone fireplace between them. In the centre of the room stood the front desk made of light wood, with a wall of keys behind it. Robby was in awe. Who would’ve thought that he’d stumble upon such a gem in the middle of nowhere?
Behind the counter stood an older woman with a gentle, welcoming presence. Her short, curly grey hair framed her round face, and her thin glasses perched delicately on the bridge of her nose. Smile lines fanned out from the corners of her warm, observant eyes, hinting at a lifetime of kindness and laughter. The soft floral pattern of her blouse and the simple gold chain around her neck gave her a dignified look, which only drew Robby in further. As he came closer to the front desk, her smile widened. It was clear that it was rare to see a lonely traveller at this time of night.
Robby put his helmet on the counter, as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to disturb the ambient atmosphere of the inn. The only sound, other than his own footsteps, was the fire quietly dying in the fireplace, casting a warm and soft glow inside the room. The delicate shadows lay still along the walls, painting the lobby with a sense of peace rarely found anywhere. The beautiful golden hue left the room feeling like a gentle hug. The calm settled within him as he looked around the place with wonder in his eyes.
“Welcome, how can I help, dear?” she said as she stood up from the comfortable-looking chair. Her voice echoed in the empty lobby as she opened the book on the counter and looked at Robby with her warm eyes.
“Um… Hi, I’d like a room, please,” Robby answered. He set down his bag and leaned against the counter. “If possible, could I get the one overlooking the shore?”
“Of course, let me see what we can do about that, darling,” she said as she opened the thick book lying behind the counter. She flipped through the pages quickly, humming along the way. “I see, it’s just your lucky day - we had a cancellation at the last minute. Room 204 is available. How does that sound?”
“Oh, that would be perfect, thank you”, Robby quickly answered, taking out his wallet and handing her his ID. “Three nights, then please.”
“No problem, darling, breakfast starts at 7:30. Just down the corridor on the right, you’ll see the dining hall. Here’s your key - again, room 204, that’s the far right door on the second floor. If you need anything else, my name is Becca, and the extension for the reception from your room is 3." She spoke quickly as she wrote down his name from his ID. She handed it back, along with the receipt and his key, and smiled softly. Robby looked around for a moment, quietly trying to navigate his way around a new space. Seeing his unsure gaze, Becca pointed down the hall to the white door.
“The stairs are that way, dear, behind the door; just turn left. If you’d like, you are welcome to roam around the downstairs area. There are books you can borrow and a few nice spots to sit and enjoy the peace. If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to ask. Have a lovely stay,” she finished her sentence with a smile as she sat back down, picking up the book she had abandoned when Robby entered.
“Thank you, umm…”, Robby hesitated for a moment.
“Anything else I can help you with, dear?” She looked up, raising her eyebrow.
“Ummm… no, thank you, have a nice evening” With that, he turned toward the direction Becca had pointed and picked up his bag from where he had dropped it when he entered.
With one last look around the lobby, Robby gathered his belongings and slowly moved down the dimly lit corridor. His mind wasn’t loud anymore - tiredness overtook almost every thought. His heavy steps dragged over the hardwood floor as he made his way toward his room.
Robby followed Becca’s directions and found his room quickly and with ease. He looked around for a second before unlocking his door. The corridor felt deserted compared to the lobby. While both were quiet, the downstairs area had this warmth that welcomed you inside. Upstairs, however, the quiet felt eerily empty. “Almost too empty,” he thought. He looked at his watch - 1:04. Well, that certainly clears it up. “It’s the middle of the night, Robinavitch; of course, there’s no one around”. He half expected to hear the echo of the monitors' beep, or a distant voice paging a code. Instead, there was silence. He let out a nervous chuckle; even on the road, it was never this quiet. It was a new sensation for Robby, which he wasn’t sure he particularly enjoyed after being used to the chaos of the ER.
He unlocked his door slowly and stepped inside. The gentle click of the switch filled the room with soft, golden light, revealing a space that felt both modest and quietly inviting. Pale blue walls with crisp white trim reflected the glow, lending the space a cool calmness. To the right, a compact bathroom was tucked discreetly behind a white door. The bed, dressed in a thick white duvet and a faded blue throw, stood against the far-right wall, a simple sofa at its foot inviting him to sit and watch the world outside. Opposite the bed, a small television sat atop a wooden console, next to a neat collection of comforts: a mini-bar, a miniature fridge, a coffee maker, a kettle, and a few carefully chosen mugs and utensils. The room’s crowning feature, though, was the wide window that took up the entirety of the wall directly opposite the door. Framed by long white curtains, it drew the gaze to the balcony doors - and, beyond them, the inky darkness of the night. Robby took a long, careful look around the space he was going to be residing in and let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. This place looked lovely.
Quiet washed over him, broken only by the distant, muted rush of waves and the occasional squeak of the old wooden floor beneath his feet. For a moment, Robby stood still, wanting to hold onto the peaceful ambience surrounding him. He set his bag and helmet on the sofa to be dealt with in the morning. His calloused hand delicately touched the soft fabric as his eyes focused on the bed. The thick duvet lying there looked warm, already inviting the tired man into its embrace.
His gaze drifted to the window, where the curtains gently moved in the faint breeze, leaving the room a little chilly. The salty scent of the ocean filled the air. Robby let his jacket slip from his shoulders and draped it over the sofa’s arm, the motion unhurried and almost automatic. He eased off his shoes and nudged them aside as he quietly moved around the room, his socks muffling his tired, heavy steps.
No plans were made, no tasks awaited his attention. Tonight, he was only Michael - not Doctor Robinavitch, who was needed everywhere at the same time. For once, the world outside could be left to be dealt with by someone else back in Pittsburgh. Robby took one last look at the ocean and turned away from the window. The golden glow from the bedside lamp painted delicate shadows on the walls as he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the day’s weight slowly fading with each passing moment. With a deep, gentle sigh, he leaned back against the pillows, letting tiredness wash over him. He closed his eyes as he felt his body relax, letting the muted hush of the ocean lull him toward sleep.
For now, the calm quiet was enough, and Robby let himself believe that in this little inn by the sea, a gentle reset might be possible.