Chapter Text
His Subaru Outback had seen better days.
An understatement, really. It was new to him, after his last one had been destroyed during Katrina. When he’d been trapped in a hospital, trying to comfort dying patients. He had lasted another six months before he said fuck it and quit and sold all his belongings except for two suitcases and headed towards Florida to wait out the rest of winter. Explored the beaches, enjoyed the warm, salty air, wandered. Moved north once the weather turned warmer, cut through Georgia and the Carolinas and all the way up to Maine before turning back and cutting west, stopping at Niagara Falls, at the Great Lakes, meandering past corn fields and soy and more cows than he ever thought he’d ever see in his life. Cut south once he hit Seattle and meandered along the coastline, weaving through forests so tall and old that he could hardly comprehend what he was seeing. And he tried not to think.
Tried not to think about how fucking tired he was.
Tried not to think about if he still wanted to be a doctor, what he would do with himself instead.
Tried not to think about how fucking angry he was. At G-d. At himself.
Mostly at himself. For failing. For…
Robby shook his head, sighing as he passed an exit for Oceanside, California. He’d just left Laguna Beach about an hour back and was headed to San Diego before deciding if he wanted to go to Las Vegas or if he wanted to go back east, or if he wanted to cut north through the Rockies.
But first, he needed gas. He pulled off towards Carlsbad and parked at the first gas station he found.
The employee gave him a recommendation for lunch, after a bit of light flirting—Robby tugging playfully at the stud in his ear, flashing the barbell in his tongue, his thin tank top leaving nothing to the imagination, showing off an outline of his nipple piercings, short enough to flash the belly button piercing he’d gotten in Orlando. It showed off the curling, floral tattoos that spread across his chest and over his shoulders, stopping just before the words on his biceps.
Amor Fati. Memento Mori.
Love your fate. Remember you must die.
Dramatic, maybe. But it was what he felt, after Katrina. Got them when he got the belly button piercing in a moment of fervor.
But the employee gave Robby his number with a wink, and Robby considered staying the night. He wasn’t looking for romance, but a good fuck certainly wouldn’t hurt.
The diner wasn’t in a busy part of town, at least. It looked quiet and cozy, and the distressed scream was wholly out of place.
Robby booked it, ever the ER doctor despite how tired he was. The scream had been pained—scared—and Robby knew he had to help. Had to do something, even though he had no supplies on him.
A few blocks over, he came across a man, only in his boxers, standing in the middle of the street. He was screaming at a car trying to get around him. He was bleeding—from his face, from his torso, and there were trails of blood running down his thighs from beneath his boxers. His feet were torn up, and Robby wondered how far he had been walking. His eyes were wide and terrified.
He looked like a cornered animal after a hunter had released him after torturing him.
The lady in the car was on the phone, also wide eyed and terrified.
Shit. She was likely calling the cops.
And Robby knew cops would make this situation worse.
“Hey!” Robby shouted, carefully jogging over, careful to get into the man’s line of sight so he wouldn’t spook him. He held his hands up, showing he wasn’t a threat. “Hey! I’m a doctor! I can help!”
Felt like a fraud, even though technically he still had his license.
The man snarled at him, turning his ire on Robby. He was somehow both curled in on himself, protecting his soft belly, but also puffed up, large, trying to appear threatening. His hands were in claws and bloody from scratching himself. The blood on his thighs was a bit more pronounced, smeared from stumbling around. Tears streamed down his face. Even from several feet away, Robby could see his pupils were blown.
Fucking hell.
“Hey. Hey,” Robby said softly, crouching a little so he wasn’t so big and scary. He gave the man a gentle smile. “Hi. My name is Robby. You’re hurt. How can I help?”
The man snarled at him, turning back to the car as it tried to edge away. He slammed his fist to the hood and Robby took a quick step forward.
“Hey! It’s okay! Focus on me,” he said, heart pounding in his throat as the man turned his gaze back to Robby. “That’s it. Come here. Let’s get off the road, okay?”
The man stared at him. There wasn’t a thought behind those eyes.
There was something… primal, in the way the man stared at Robby. Hurt and confused and angry. Defensive. Robby could deal with that—there’d been a lot of terrified patients, drugged and terrified patients, who came through the ER. There wasn’t a doubt in Robby’s mind that this man had had something terrible happen to him, and he would bet every last penny that he’d been drugged against his will.
“Hi,” Robby said softly, oh so gently, keeping his hands up and open and trying to exude as much calm and non-threatening energy as he could. “Come on. Let’s get you off the road. That’s it,” he said cheerfully as the man stumbled towards him, gaze focused intensely on Robby. Fuck. Robby couldn’t imagine how sore his feet must have been. He waved the lady away as she started to roll down her window. “I got it! I’m a doctor.”
“I called the cops,” she called back.
Fucking hell.
“He doesn’t need fucking cops!” he bit back. The man startled, and Robby hurried to soothe him as he skittered back. “Hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I know you’re scared. It’s okay. Let’s go into the shade, hmm? It’s hot out here.”
“Hot,” repeated the man, voice raspy and hoarse. Robby wondered how long he’d been screaming.
“Yeah, hot.” He shuffled back, lowering his arms but stretching them towards the man, palms up, beckoning him towards the curb. Robby only gave the woman a brief moment of attention as she finally sped off. He needed to get him off the street—maybe even back towards the diner. They had to avoid the cops at all cost so Robby could get him to the hospital. He nearly tripped on the curb but caught himself on the hood of a sedan. He gently took the man’s hands and helped keep him steady as he finally stepped off the road and into the shade of a large tree. “There you go! See? The shade is so much better.”
But the man wasn’t paying attention to him. He was looking off to the side, eyes hazy as he tracked something that wasn’t there. “No no no no no,” he muttered, shying away from something.
“Hey, look at me.” Robby squeezed his hands, giving him a gentle, warm smile as he focused on Robby. “I’ll protect you, okay? Nothing can get you if I’m here.” He probably shouldn’t be promising him that, but he had no idea how fast the police response times were and he needed to get the man to his car now. “Do you want some clothes? Water?”
The man frowned at him. Almost… lucid, for a moment. Still blown pupils, but this close Robby could see his eyes had a very beautiful grey-green ring around the dilated pupils. “Who are you?” he asked, voice gravely, almost panicky as he looked around. “Where—Where am I?”
“It’s okay! My name is Robby. I uh… honestly don’t know where we are? I’m just passing through,” he said honestly. “There’s a diner just a few blocks that way.”
The man looked around, confused. “I don’t…” He swallowed, tears pooling in his eyes again. He shot a look to the side, eyes wide and afraid and he skittered back behind Robby. “No! No no no no no!” He stumbled and fell, almost taking Robby with him. His chest heaved with his sobs as he tried to protect himself from something that wasn’t there, curled up in a tiny ball that made the blood on his thighs stick out even more.
“Hey! It’s okay, nothing’s there!” Fuck. Robby tried to swallow his own panic. He crouched down, gently taking his hands, trying to stop him from scratching his eyes and ears further. “Hey. I don't see anything else here. It's just us.”
“She’s here.”
Oh. Shit. He was hallucinating a person? Fuck. “It’s just you and me. I promise. Can you tell me your name? Do you know what year it is?”
“Uhm. I—I don’t… I don’t know,” he said, sobbing harder. “I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.” His terrified scream tore Robby’s heart. Had to have hurt the man’s throat, too. Fuck. Robby wished he could make it go away for him. He couldn’t imagine the pure terror he was feeling.
“Okay! That’s okay!” He took the man’s hands in one of his and used the other to soothe his sweaty curls back. “Can I take you to the hospital? You’re really hurt.”
“’m not supposed to go to the hospital,” he moaned, voice crackling. “They’ll know.”
Oh. Oh, this was… This had been going on for a while. Robby’s heart broke at the implication. “You need to go. You’re seriously hurt. I think someone drugged you and hurt you.”
The man didn’t respond for a long moment. His eyes went a little unfocused, looking right through Robby. Fuck. Maybe he could still convince him that he needed to go to the hospital.
His eyes refocused briefly, looking at Robby with as much clarity as he could muster. “She won’t be there?” he asked, voice small. “You won’t call Smurf?”
“Who is Smurf?” That was the weirdest name Robby had ever heard from someone.
“My mom,” the man said in the smallest voice, so achingly terrified, as if afraid just speaking the words would summon her.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh fuck. Had his mother been the one to drug him and—and potentially sexually assault him? What the actual fuck. But Robby didn’t let any of those emotions through. He just brushed the man’s hair back and told him, “I won’t call anyone you don’t want me to. It can be just you and me, okay? I’ll stay with you.”
“Okay.” The man gave him a small nod and tried to sit up. He whimpered, trying to curl up tighter as he shivered from the pain.
“Okay. I can help you up.” Robby gently pulled him to standing. “We need to get you to the hospital, okay?”
They rounded the corner of the block just as Robby saw an officer turn down the street a ways down. He hurried the man, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other holding his arm, helping him stumble down the sidewalk. It took a minute to get to his car but he got the man inside and found a local to get directions to the nearest hospital, at least. For his dignity, Robby pulled out a black zip up hoodie and helped him into some spare shorts. Gave him an extra pair of flip flops, even though the man winced as Robby helped him slip them on. He didn’t see any clear signs of injection, so he wondered if he had ingested something instead.
They shuffled inside the ER, and Robby led them up to the front desk. There were only a few people waiting in the chairs waiting to be seen. That seemed promising, at least. At least they weren’t as busy as New Orleans always was.
“Hi, what brings you in today?” the nurse asked, eyeing the man warily. He had started muttering to himself again, looking around them even as he huddled into Robby’s arms.
“Uh, hi. I found him wandering the streets? I’m a doctor—from Louisiana. Just visiting,” Robby rambled. “He was naked and covered in scratches I think were self-inflicted. I think he has drug-induced psychosis and I’m pretty certain he was sexually assaulted.”
“Oh.” She winced and started typing away. “Do you know his name?”
“I don’t, sorry. He hasn’t really been able to answer questions.”
“That’s okay!” She typed away and waved to one of the other nurses. “We’re going to bring him straight back. Do you know what he might have taken?”
Robby shook his head, gently guiding the man to the wheelchair. He got him sat and turned to the nurse holding the wheelchair to give his briefing. “I don’t. He’s hallucinating and a little aggressive but I got him calmed down pretty easily by being gentle. He is really sensitive to raised or stern voices. He has brief periods of lucidity. Tachy, couldn’t get a blood pressure but it feels pretty thready. Pupils dilated, but I wasn’t able to do any testing. Good respirations once he’s calmed down. He’s disoriented to time or place—”
“No!” the man shouted as they started to wheel him away. Robby’s hand had slipped from his grasp and he nearly fell out of the wheelchair trying to grab Robby again. “No! You said! You said!” he screamed, startling everyone as he tried to tip out of the wheelchair to get to Robby.
Robby took his hand again, crouching down to soothe him. “Hey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m sorry I let go.”
The man’s lip wobbled, more tears running down his cheeks. “You said—”
“I know. I’m right here, okay?” Robby brushed his tears away with a gentle smile. “You okay to let them check you over?”
“You’ll stay?”
“I’ll stay,” Robby promised.
They wheeled him into a private room. He would only let Robby help him into the bed. He winced as he sat, pulling the hoodie close to his chin as he curled up, facing Robby. Which was going to be a problem for the exam. Shit. Robby grimaced at the other nurses and the doctor who had just strolled in.
Luckily, the man let Robby undress him, easily pliant but tensing if anyone else came near. Unfortunately, they needed him completely naked and he started crying again when Robby helped him take off his boxers. Robby wanted to cry, seeing all the blood that had dried on his upper thighs. He kept a straight face, though, gently taking the man’s hand and instructing him to look at him while they got him set up with a blood draw and an IV to get his blood pressure back up.
He was remarkably calm as they worked. As long as Robby held his hand, of course. He started screaming the first time they tried to have Robby drop his hand and move aside so they could examine him, but they all agreed to wait on a few test results before giving him a sedative.
Robby pulled up a chair, his thumb softly stroking the back of the man’s hand. His eyes were glazed again, unseeing as the others worked around him. Robby listened, trying not to interject. This wasn’t his ER, after all. He wished that they could cover the man with a blanket, but they were still trying to assess all his injuries. It seemed to be mostly scratches—a few hand shaped bruises were starting to form on his arms and there was a larger bruise forming on his thigh, long and rectangular. Like he’d been hit by a pole or a pipe?
“Do you have any other information?” Dr. Rosenthal asked, scribbling his notes as a nurse rattled off vitals. “I know you said you found him wandering the street, but… did he say anything?”
Robby drew in a quick breath, his hand tightening around the man’s for a moment. “There was something he said,” he replied softly, thinking back, trying not to choke. “He was afraid someone would find out he was going to the hospital. And he was worried we would call his mother. From the way he said it… I think she did this to him. He was terrified.”
“Did he give a name?”
“He called her Smurf?” He glanced over to see everyone exchanging confused frowns. Figured. “I don’t know if he’s from here. He didn’t recognize the area, but I don’t know if that’s because he’s not from here or because he’s disoriented, because he also doesn’t know the year and couldn’t tell me his name, but… His feet are torn up. He’s been walking a while.”
Dr. Rosenthal hummed. “I don’t like all that blood,” he muttered, tapping his pen to his notebook. “I’m going to need to do an anoscopy.”
Fuck. Robby had figured. Wasn’t too happy about it, with how the man was at the moment. “Hey,” he said softly, trying to get the man’s attention. His gaze slid over to Robby, still a little dazed, but he seemed to be focusing a little on Robby anyway. “Do you remember what happened to you?” The man hummed, brow furrowed a little. “There’s… a lot of blood. Were you sexually assaulted?”
The man tensed, his hand squeezing Robby’s in surprise. His other hand went up to his hair and he clenched the curly strands hard as he curled up towards Robby, muttering soft little “no no no no no”s into the gurney.
Shit.
“Hey.” Robby tried to untangle his fingers from his hair. He let Robby pull his hand away, at least. That was good. Even if he wouldn’t look up at Robby. “Hey, it’s okay. We just want to know how to help you. You’re bleeding. They need to do an exam to make sure you don’t need surgery.”
“No no no no no,” he moaned. He was crying again, soft little whimpers that broke Robby’s heart all over again.
“I’m right here.” Robby gripped his hand tighter, soothing back his sweaty curls with the other. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay? You can squeeze my hand as tight as you want.”
“Okay,” said the man, unable to look at Robby.
Robby in turn nodded to Dr. Rosenthal. While they got that ready, Robby motioned towards the blanket over to the side. The nurse—Lily, her badge said—helped him cover the man. He shivered under the blanket, pulling the edge up to cover his face. The only part of him uncovered was his dark, curly hair. Obligingly, Robby started to caress his fingers through the curls. It seemed to keep the man calm, for the most part. Robby ignored how his bones creaked as the man squeezed his hand.
It was a small price to pay, after all.
The exam went well enough—Dr. Rosenthal narrated everything he was doing, and the man only lashed out once when he first inserted the anoscope. He settled when Robby started murmuring in Yiddish to him—some nursery song he remembered his grandmother singing to him when he was young.
But Robby made sure to praise the man when the exam was done, soothing back his curls, murmuring softly as the man sobbed into his free hand. He continued to sing as Lily carefully started to clean the blood from his thighs and disinfected his scratches and the soles of his feet.
“Blunt object,” Dr. Rosenthal muttered as he set the anoscope aside and pulled off his gloves. “I suspect something like a bat. I don’t see anything that warrants surgery, thankfully, but we’ll keep an eye on him and start him on antibiotics.”
Fucking Christ. Robby thanked the doctor as he left.
“Okay, let’s get you in a gown,” Robby said once Lily was finished.
He looked so small, curled under the blanket. There were leads on his chest to monitor his heart, a pulse ox on the hand with the IV. They’d started an antibiotic drip to go with the fluids.
Somehow, the Yiddish lullabies Robby had kept up as they worked had lulled the man into sleep. He was still a bit tachy, but his blood pressure was up a bit. His numbers were slowly improving, and that was what mattered.
Dr. Rosenthal came back with a chart, frowning down at the results. He stood on the other side of the bed, looking down at the man briefly and shaking his head. “I honestly don’t know how he was so coherent, or even awake,” he said. “There’s… a lot of antipsychotics in his system. I don’t really feel comfortable giving him any medication because I don’t know how they’ll interact with each other.” He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. He was young—probably a fresh attending. He looked tired. Robby knew the feeling. “We’ve got a bed lined up in med surg. I don’t think he’s critical enough for ICU. I’ve also gotten you permission to stay with him. That is—if you’re staying? I know you’re just a stranger—”
“No, yeah, of course I’ll stay.” It wasn’t like Robby had anything better to do, anyway. Besides, he wasn’t in the business of breaking his promises. “I promised him I’d stay with him. Oh.” It was Robby’s turn to frown at the thought. “You won’t let anyone know he’s here, right? He was pretty concerned that someone would find him.”
“Yeah, of course. We’ll keep him as John Doe.” Dr. Rosenthal gave him a rueful smile. “Cops in the area don’t really care much, anyway, if they try to come ‘round asking about any John Does. I’ll make a note to make sure no one says anything if anyone does ask.”
“Thank you.” Robby could breathe in relief at that, at least. “Is transport coming soon?”
“Uh. I think it might be about half an hour,” Dr. Rosenthal replied.
“Great. Can someone come sit with him for a bit? I’d like to grab something from the cafeteria and get some things from my car, if that’s okay?” Robby asked.
“Of course,” said Dr. Rosenthal. “I’ll go grab Tammy.”
Robby was quick to run to his car and grab something from the cafeteria. Just a simple turkey and cheese sandwich with some chips and a coke that he would wait to eat until they got the man situated in his new room. He’d also brought in his smaller suitcase after shuffling around a few things so he had a few books and some clothes and his toiletries.
The man was still asleep when Robby made it back twenty minutes later. Which he was thankful for. He didn’t know how he would react if Robby wasn’t there. He had gone into panic when Robby had just let go of his hand. If Robby was just straight up gone…
But Robby wondered, if it was a good idea. For him to be so involved. To be promising this man that he would stay by his side, that he would protect him. He knew it was probably unhealthy, letting this stranger get so attached.
But…
Robby couldn’t really help it. It was in his DNA, helping people. No matter what. No matter how much of a burden it was on him.
This didn’t feel like a burden.
It felt… right, in a way nothing had since Katrina had destroyed his home, had swept his emotions away with the tide. If there was anywhere he should be, it was here, at this stranger’s side. Robby didn’t even know his name—knew nothing about him except he called his mother Smurf and that she had probably been the one to hurt him and he was utterly terrified of her. He knew, though, that the man needed someone—hadn’t had someone in his corner in far too long. Never had, maybe.
Robby followed the transport team, keeping in step where the man could see him if he woke up. The wheels on his suitcase were obnoxiously loud—surprisingly louder than the wheels of the gurney. There was a bag of belongings at the man’s feet—Robby’s clothes, really. They’d thrown out the boxers since they were drenched in blood. Robby had thrown in a couple extra of his own into the suitcase for the man to wear, in case he wanted it. Threw in a few of his more comfortable clothes, too, just in case.
Robby stepped back and watched them work transferring the man onto the new bed. He watched carefully as they hooked him back up to the monitors and transferred his IV and antibiotics to the new pole. Watched as the nurse, who had come in with a hospitalist as the transport team left, gently settled the blanket back around his shoulders and pulled out another to settle on top. The pinched brow smoothed a little as he sighed into his new pillow.
She shot Robby a quick smile. “My name is Tracey, and I’ll be his nurse today.”
“Robby,” he replied, finally pushing his suitcase into the corner out of the way.
“Dr. Colbert,” the hospitalist introduced herself. She shook Robby’s hand with a sad smile. “I understand that you’re just a Good Samaritan?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Robby replied sheepishly. “I, uh… He was wandering the streets, screaming at a car trying to drive by. Covered in blood and scratches and he was hallucinating. I got him off the road and brought him here. He gets kind of agitated if I’m not nearby, so Dr. Rosenthal said I could stay since he’s got too many antipsychotics in his system to give him sedatives.”
“Noble of you,” Dr. Colbert murmured, looking down at her notes. She grimaced. “I want to keep him at least a week for the antibiotics alone. Maybe two, to make sure everything leaves his system. I’m sure we can handle it if you—”
“No,” Robby bit out, careful to keep his tone low to not wake the man. “I promised him I would stay. I’m gonna fucking stay.”
Dr. Colbert studied him for a long, long moment. He couldn’t read her expression, annoyingly enough. “No one would blame you if you left.”
“I’m not a fucking monster.”
She seemed pleasantly surprised by his answer. Robby was surprised by his own vehement response. She nodded once, ignoring his heavy breathing, likely didn’t know his heart was pounding as he flushed at the implication that he would want to break his promise, that he would want to hurt this innocent man. This man deserved kindness, above all else. Robby had it in spades.
Dr. Colbert turned back to the patient and scribbled down his vitals. “Someone will be by to check on him every half hour for the next twenty-four hours. If you need anything, please press the call button. Is there anything we can get you?” she asked, as if Robby hadn’t just lost his cool at her for.
“Uhm. Not right now.” He held up his bag of food. “If I do need to step out, is there enough staff to sit with him? I don’t want him to think I abandoned him, or something.”
“I’d be happy to,” said Tracey, bouncing on her toes.
Good.
Robby nodded, waiting until they left to pull the recliner over to the bedside so it was level with the man’s thighs, but facing it towards the head of the bed. Since the man wasn’t using the table, Robby rolled it over and lowered it so he could use it.
The man wasn’t at peace, as he slept. He still looked pained. They hadn’t wanted to use anything stronger than intravenous ibuprofen, because they didn’t really know how anything stronger would react with everything else in his system. It sucked, really, and Robby wished he could… just do something, anything, to make the situation better.
He knew he couldn’t.
Not in any way that was really meaningful. He could sit there all he wanted, but that wouldn’t fix the situation. Would erase what had been done to the man. Wouldn’t… Wouldn’t change anything.
He finished his meager lunch and pushed the table aside. The chain around his neck was heavy. Robby touched his Magen David with trembling fingers. He clasped it in his hand, letting the sharp points dig into the meat of his palm, the flesh of his fingers. He took the man’s hand in his other hand, and he bowed his head to pray.
He might not believe in the guy upstairs sometimes, but… He figured it wouldn’t hurt.