Archive of Our Own

Here’s the thing, Dennis knows it’s the right thing to do. 

Love is good for you. He knows this in his core, love can do so much. Love can change who you are, love can give you the strength you need. Dennis knows this by watching his parents growing up. The laughter wedged in between the creaky floorboards, the soft touches in the early morning sunlight, the chasing in the open fields. 

However, love can’t always be enough. Dennis also knows this by watching his parents. He knows it from when his father would’ve drank too much and when the livestock didn’t produce enough for them to sell, he knows it when his father would raise a hand against his mother. His mother had loved his father to the point of changing and yet, it still didn’t change him. 

And it’s also important to point out that love is complicated. 

Dennis and Robby? The truth of the matter is that they’re nothing. 

That doesn’t mean Dennis’ heart doesn’t ache against his chest when they inevitably fall into bed together once again, like their last meeting didn’t end with a conversation about the fact that no one can know about them and that what they’re doing is ultimately wrong. 

Dennis must’ve been blind to not see it sooner. Actually, it probably makes him a bad doctor. He knows it’s not completely his fault. His humor is muddled with the fact that he grew up in a farm and his first friend in the city is Trinity Santos who would laugh and say, “I’ll kill myself.” over the smallest instances. 

So when Robby says, “If I don’t come back.” Dennis stares and thinks— oh, a joke. Of course, Robby would ask him to house sit, Dennis has been over his house a million times and he probably wanted someone who knew his way around the small townhouse.

And when the whispers in the nurses station started getting louder, Dennis should’ve started listening closer.

“You should’ve seen his eyes,” Perlah had said after she reenacted the whole Dr. Mohan VS Dr. Robby spectacle to Princess, “Parang wala siya sa sarili.” 

Dennis doesn’t know enough Filipino to go on but he writes it down and corners Trinity behind one of the halls and demands that she translate it. 

Trinity gives the note one look and gives him a perturbed look before translating, “It means whoever they’re talking about didn’t seem like themselves.” 

The final straw is when Duke offhandedly said, “Only an idiot would ride all night after working a twelve hour day.” 

Dennis corners yet another person in the now empty break room, “I didn’t know you were leaving tonight.” 

Robby turns to him, hand wrapped another cup of coffee. His third today— and Dennis hears a voice in his head that sounds so similar to Trinity’s saying, “Oh, you’re down bad.” 

“There’s no point in waiting.” Robby says, his voice is curt and low. Sometimes Dennis cannot seem to comprehend how this can be the same person who calls him baby and sweetheart in between the sheets. 

“There is actually. I don’t think it’s safe to go out on the road after such a long shi—“ 

Robby is already shaking his head, “You already know how to work the house code and where the extra keys are hidden. There’s no point in waiting.” 

All of that is true, Dennis knows the house quite well at this point. Dennis stares at him gobsmacked for a second before replying and trying to joke— hoping that it makes him laugh a bit, “What? Do you not plan on bringing anything with you? Are you never coming back or something?” 

An emotion shows up in Robby’s face. 

Here’s the thing, Dennis would love to say that yes, he has held up his end of the bargain and kept feelings out of the situationship— as Trinity eloquently calls it— him and his boss has. But that would be a lie and Dennis has spent the last eight months categorizing every look and emotion that passes through Robby’s face. 

This look on Robby’s face— this one was a first and it’s gone just as fast it came. There’s so much Dennis has categorized and the closest thing he can compare it to was Robby's face when Dennis found him in peds the night of the PittFest. 

“Doctor Robby?” Mckay pokes her head, “I need a consult.” She’s gone before Robby can even reply and Robby turns back to Dennis. 

“You know where the extra keys are hidden, hmm?” Robby gulps another drink of his coffee and like he can’t avoid it, he gives Dennis’ shoulder a squeeze. 

In itself, Dennis has found the answer to his question. 

Michael Robinavitch doesn’t plan on coming back. 

Dennis wishes he knows in what way. Is he planning to vanish in their lives? Is he planning to move to Alberta and start living in the prairies like a farmer? Is he planning to ride the damn motorcycle until his body can’t take it anymore and just wait for the whole thing to crash and burn and take him with it? 

After that, Dennis stands from a far, watching as Robby talks to a patient in his room. He watches and— really watches. Sees the haunted look in his eyes, sees the way his lips twitch into an empty smile. He watches as Robby gives advice to Javadi and watches as he speaks to Mohan. 

Dennis watches and realizes that he’s setting his affairs in order at the same time as burning all the bridges he’s built in Pittsburgh. 

If Jack Abbot was here, Dennis would ambush him and bombard him with questions but he’s gone home for a nap. Dennis doesn’t even have his phone number or any way to reach him. He’d know what to do, he’d know what the right thing to do. He’d be back in about two hours but Dennis is terrified that by then Robby’s already halfway through Pennsylvania. 

And again, let’s all be clear here, Dennis knows it’s the right thing to do. 

So with every ounce of courage Dennis can scrape and collect— which isn’t a lot in itself— he walks up to the nurses station. He doesn’t know what the fuck his face is doing but Dana turns to him with a smile and the smile slips so fast from her face when she sees Dennis. 

“What’s wrong?” Dana asks, hand coming up to hold his arm. 

“If I don’t come back.” echoes in his head as he makes up his mind. 

Dennis looks around cautiously. Everyone’s too busy trying to get things in order after the shut down, too busy to get things in order for the night shift. Across the bay, Robby is inside Trauma One talking with one of the nurses. 

Dennis turns back to Dana who’s still watching him with rapt eyes. Dennis’ hand is cold and clammy as he puts it on top of Dana’s hand, squeezing slightly.

Love isn’t always enough. Yes, that’s true. However, Dennis hopes it’s still enough to save the person he loves from vanishing from all of their lives. 

“I’d like to file a 302.” 

It's chaotic after that. 

Dana pulls a sheet of paper from the messed up desk and instructs Princess to guard the desk as she pulls Dennis to the family room. From there, Dana calls Jack who is already up and will be in the hospital in the next ten minutes. Dana calls Caleb next, who promises to come as soon as he has a second. 

All while this is happening, Dennis fills up the form with the shakiest and slowest hand. 

When Dennis finally finishes up, Jack Abbot is already in the room. He’s still wearing the same clothes he wore earlier that day, and he looks out of breath. Dennis doesn’t even want to think about all the traffic rules he had to break to be here so quickly. 

Dennis hands Jack the finished form and lets him read it.

Jack gapes at the form, “Is this a—“ Dennis watches as he reads the form, eyes skimming the page as quickly as possible. 

Dennis learned what the form was in his first Clinical Skills class. A 302 is the form you fill up when you believe someone could be a danger to themselves or others. It’s an involuntary hold for a person for up to 72 hours for a mental health evaluation. 

Jack hands Dana the form as he stares at Dennis. He’s giving him a look that screams concern and fear and Dennis feels all of it just the same. 

“Tell us everything.” 

Dennis opens his mouth, and pauses. There’s no turning back after this. In his heart, he knows it’s the right thing to do. But that doesn't take away from the fear of what the aftermath of this would look like. 

In the end, Dennis settles over the fact that he’d rather have Robby hate him for the rest of his life rather than to live in a world that had no Michael Robinavitch in it. 

Dennis opens his mouth, and tells them everything.

If there’s one thing Dennis has always been sure about himself, it’s the fact that he has always liked being in the shadows.

Born as the fourth and youngest child, it is predestined that Dennis is born in the shadow of his older brothers. When Dennis was younger, his brothers locked him in the barn as a joke and in that darkness, with the sounds of the sleeping animals and the eerie quietness of the farm. In a place where Dennis should’ve gained his fear of the dark, he instead found peace in being in the dark. 

Dennis doesn’t like being the center of attention— or maybe he never really got used to getting any and has decided that staying on the sidelines is enough. 

Dr. Michael Robinavitch gave him attention like he was a sunflower in need of watering. Dennis never truly understood how much he wanted it until it’s being given so freely to him. So Dennis thrived under the attention and care, knows that he’s grown from that timid, mouse-like boy on his first day. 

Right now though— Dennis stands at the bay watching quietly. After Dennis submits the forms, Jack had told him that he was free to go— That he could leave if he wanted to. Dennis took that and tucked himself back in the shadows and watched as the whole scene unfolded. 

He watches as Caleb directs Robby into a patient room, the privacy curtain shut behind them. Jack slinked into the room a few minutes later. Dana stands near the doorway, not guarding it but also obviously hovering. The night shift is around by then, the hand off has been finished and Lena has started steering the ship. 

Dennis knows that the 302 can’t be made anonymously and if Robby asks who filed it, they’ll have to tell him. 

Caleb comes out of the room, whispers something to Dana. For a moment, he pauses, looking around the room before he finds Dennis’ eyes. Caleb nods at him, giving a small grateful smile. 

And then the shouting started. It’s loud enough that everyone has turned their heads to the room. Dana is now standing in front of it, arms crossed and basically glaring at anyone who tries to pry. 

“Whitaker! Get me, Whitaker!” 

Dennis feels his heart take a plunge to his stomach. For a moment he thinks maybe he needs an IV and a heart monitor with how fast the cold travels through his body. 

Everyone who knows his name turns to him. 

There’s more talking coming inside of the room— quieter this time— as Dennis finally accepts his fate and steps out of the shadow he’s been so comfortable with. He walks as slowly as he can towards the room, like he’s walking into his death. It might as well be. 

Dennis tries to rationalize it in his head. It’s always bound to happen. There was no outcome in this situation where Dennis and Robby’s relationship could’ve survived. 

Dana gives his arm a tight squeeze as Dennis stands in front of the door, “Kid, you did the right thing.” 

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Dennis whispers back. 

“It always somehow feels like that.” Dana smiles at him melancholically, opening the door for him as he quietly slips into the room. 

Dennis pulls the curtains open and whatever conversation Jack and Robby was having come to a halt as they turn to him. He pulls the curtains back again. He knows the others can hear the heated conversation, but at least this way they can’t see them.

There’s a look on Robby’s face that Dennis has seen before. It’s a look he’s seen on him when they talk about Langdon and the drug use. It's a mixture of betrayal and disappointment and just— pure hurt. Dennis never really thought it’d be directed to him. Ever.

But now he’s here and Robby’s staring at him like he’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to his life. 

“Whit— Dennis—“ Robby calls out, and Dennis wishes for the first time that Robby just calls him Whitaker. Keep it formal, keep their dalliances under the rug like it never happened,  “How could you do this to me? Who are you to say that I need help? I am fine!” 

Dennis stares openly because the words cannot form on his tongue. It feels as if he’s got a thousand different things to say and at the same time he feels mute. Abbot takes pity on him and keeps a hand on Robby’s arm to keep him in place. 

“You need help, brother.” Jack says, hands trying to soothe his friend, “Whitaker is right.” 

“Whitaker is not right!” Robby snarls back, trying to get out of Abbot’s strong hold, “How dare you air out my dirty laundry? You want me to air out yours as well? How about I tell everyone that we’ve been—” 

That’s not—

“Michael.” Dennis shakes his head, closing his eyes to prevent the tears from falling down his cheeks. He has never called Robby Michael inside the PTMC. Dennis doesn’t know when it started but it’s Robby at work and Michael is reserved for the nights they've spent together in the four walls of his home. Michael is the man who cooked him easy over eggs, Robby is the doctor who taught him how to insert an arterial line placement. They’re one and the same but also so vastly different. 

Dennis finishes, “I am doing this for your own good.” 

When Dennis reopens his eyes, Robby is already shaking his head at him. He’s shaking on the hospital bed agitated and Abbot catches his eyes and taps the bed railings. 

He wants restraints. 

Dennis’ heart trips on itself. His Michael, his Robby— in restraints. 

Robby is still staring at him with such unadulterated hatred that Dennis thinks he’s heart could shrivel in his chest at any moment, “Oh, fuck me. I am Dr. Robby to you. We are nothing, Whitaker. We are nothing.” 

Dennis starts walking backwards, to call for Dana, to call for someone. Jack looks at him with a dejected understanding but gives him an encouraging nod. 

“You walk out of that door and we’re done. We’re nothing.” Robby threatens as Dennis is about to push the glass doors open, the privacy curtain open for everyone to see now. 

Dennis halts to a stop and Robby stops thrashing around. Dennis turns and stares at him. He looks— really looks— and sees Robby’s blood shot eyes, his shaking hands and the cruelty on his face. Dennis doesn’t know this version of Robby. The one Dennis knows— the one Dennis loves— has been replaced by an uglier, anger consumed version. 

He hates the fact that it doesn’t make him love Robby any less. This is just another part of him. 

But Dennis is a doctor now and with that comes the knowledge that this is the right thing to do. Robby needs help. Professional help.

“We’re nothing either way, Michael.” Dennis ignores the way his voice cracks around itself, “I’d rather lose you and have you alive.” 

Dennis pushes out the door so fast he’s surprised the glass doors do not break. He hears Robby calling out to him even as the glass doors close behind him. Everyone is looking at him as he steps out of the room, Robby’s shouting echoing around the emergency room. 

He meets Dana’s eyes, and he swallows whole, “Dr. Abbot needs restraints.”  

Dennis turns around and walks out of the PTMC emergency with half of his heart crushed over the fact that he’s done the right thing. 

Dennis doesn’t see or hear anything from Jack until the 72 hour hold is over. 

For those three days, Dennis worked every day. He kept his head down, ignored the whispers, avoided the pitiful looks. The patients came and went and Dennis poured all of his energy to them. He worked and worked and worked. After that, he went home with Trinity, who for the first time in the whole time they’ve been roommates, didn’t ask questions and instead sat with him in the silence of his bedroom until Dennis had fallen asleep. She cooked what could only be described as comfort foods that Dennis wouldn’t even try to pronounce the names of, food that filled his body with warmth. She forces him to go shower and change when she’s found that he hasn’t moved after a long shift. 

Trinity is holding his hand when Jack herds them into the family room again. She doesn’t let go even when Jack looks at her with curious eyes, and when he realizes that she’s not leaving Dennis anytime soon, he finally speaks. 

“He’s okay.” 

They don't need to clarify who he is. He doesn’t need to.

Finally, Dennis feels his heart beat again. He doesn’t even know that it’s stopped, doesn’t even know when it stopped. It’s then that he realizes that he’s been walking around like an empty shell. 

“He is?” Dennis asks, hand tightening against Trinity’s hold, who squeezes right back. 

Jack plops down on one of the chairs and it’s only then that Dennis finally notices how tired and stressed the man looked, “I am not going to get into the bones of his evaluation, but it wasn’t good. He didn’t agree to any help until the second day and after that— it was terrible.” Jack looks up to the two of them, and sees the expressions on their faces and immediately softens, “For now all that matters is that he’s okay.” 

Dennis nods, repeating the words for himself, “He’s okay.” 

“I dropped him to a treatment center where he’s gonna stay for another week or however long he feels like. Then…” Jack trails, a soft smile gracing his face. 

“Then?” Dennis repeats. 

“Robby says he’s still going to go on his trip.” 

Dennis’ heart drops. Is that even a good idea? He thinks of Robby in that death machine without a helmet and with a death wish. He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s surprised that nothing comes out. There’s a bone chilling fear creeping underneath his skin once again and Trinity must’ve felt the way his hand starts to shake because she speaks for the first time since they’ve entered the room. 

“Do you think that would be a good idea?” 

Sometimes Dennis wonders if they’ve been separated at birth. 

Jack nods slowly, “Robby’s counsellor won’t let him go unless they think he’s still a danger to himself. We have agreed that it’ll still be good for him to get out of here and see new scenery.” 

They sit in silence after that before Jack stands up with a groan, “I’ve gotta get out there to start hand off. But Whitaker—“ Dennis looks up at the man, who nods at him gratefully, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

“Thank you.” Dennis utters back. 

“No, thank you.” Jack gives him a meaningful look before turning his back to them. But before he can fully go out of the room he turns back to them once again. 

“I forgot to mention. Robby has told me to mention it to you.” Jack calls out, making Dennis straighten up at the prospect of Robby wanting to tell him something. 

“He asks that you don’t over water the garden plants. Apparently, they’re pretty sensitive.” 

For a moment, Dennis just stares as he thinks of the flowers on the back porch of Robby’s two storey red bricked house. He hasn’t been back there since the last time they hooked up— a few days before the fourth of July. 

“He— He still wants me to house sit?” Dennis asks, gobsmacked at the realization. 

Jack grins at him, a bit cheeky, “He says you know where the extra keys are.” 

With that, Jack leaves the two of them in the family room. Dennis doesn’t know how long has passed as he sat in the room, trying to readjust at the sound of his own beating heart. There’s an emotion rattling in his chest and it feels so much like hope that Dennis feels like he’ll keel over. 

“Huckleberry?” Trinity calls out and she sounds worried, “Are you okay?" 

Dennis looks up from his hands and only then does he realize that his eyes are blurring up with tears. 

“I—“ Dennis tries to say, “I think so.” 

“Oh, Den.” Trinity smiles at him softly, dimples popping as she pulls him into a side hug. 

And for the first time since Dennis filled that 302 form, he lets himself cry. 

Dennis doesn’t end up sleeping in Robby’s house full time. 

The first week Dennis tries to house sit, the empty house almost sends him off the edge. The house is too quiet, and Dennis avoids the master bedroom like a plague. For the first night, he ends up sleeping in the guest room where everything was plain and simple, so closely looking like a hospital room. After that, Dennis ends up sleeping on the living room couch. A knitted blanket wraps around him and he tells himself that he finally gets to sleep because of how comfortable it is and not because it smells so distinctively Robby. He goes to work, goes home to an empty and cold house and tries his best to sleep as the house creaks of what it used to hold— laughter and movies watched and hushed voices over the pillow. 

Dennis realizes halfway through that this must be what it feels like to be a ghost haunting a house. For his coworkers, it also seemed like Dennis started looking like a ghost. Pale and thin and sickly. 

Dennis didn’t mind, not really. He’s always had that Victorian Child aesthetic as Javadi says. 

The turning point is when the television remote dies and Dennis has to search for extra batteries. Everyone has a junk drawer, and everyone’s junk drawer usually has a bunch of loose batteries. 

Dennis knows where the junk drawer is. He digs and digs and digs and finds the spare batteries wedged into an old tattered envelope, looking like it accidentally rolled into it. 

Out of curiosity, Dennis pulls out the stack and sees a bunch of letters tied together with elastic. On top, Dennis reads his name written in familiar handwriting. He flicks to the next one and sees Jack’s name. Then Dana’s. Then Jake’s. 

Dennis doesn’t finish the stack. He pushes it back in the junk drawer and exits the house promptly. 

It’s only then that Dennis finally decides that he can’t stay in the house full time. So when Dennis has days off, he stays in the haunted house and when he has work he goes home to Trinity. 

And on the rare instance that Dennis gets a weekend off, he goes off to Amy’s farm and he turns off his brain. It’s easy. It’s easy like putting on a gardening glove that he had to shake off to put on the doctor’s coat. He tends to the animals, weeds the garden and plays with the baby. 

Dennis keeps himself so busy that there’s no time to think. It’s the only way he can survive. 

He adamantly doesn’t ask for updates about Robby, though Jack gives it to him voluntarily as they do handoffs. 

“Robby’s okay. He’s out now.” 

“He got to Canada safely. Do you want to see a picture?” 

“He just saw a giant moose. I think he cried.” 

Dennis smiles and nods but doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t think he deserves to ask questions. Jack never pushes, just smiles and squeezes his shoulder. 

There’s a calendar that hangs behind Dennis’ bedroom door. He got it for secret santa last Christmas. Dennis flips through July and August and September without hesitation. It’s a testament of how the world revolved around Dennis as he tried to push through the ache that he feels so deep in his bones, as he tried to not think of Robby and how he’s doing and if he’s eating and where he is at that moment—

The wind is chillier now and Dennis has to take out his old long sleeves to shield himself from the cold. The plants in Robby's back porch say a gentle goodbye and it leaves him mournful. 

Dennis doesn’t even realize what month it is until Trinity comes home with a box of Christmas lights. 

“It’s September, Trin.” Dennis pleads. 

“I may be white passing, but deep in my soul I am Filipino, Huckle. Let me put my lights up.” Trinity clicks her tongue at him, “Also, it’s October the first.” 

Dennis flips through the calendar and sees the big red circle that he’s drawn months and months ago, when everything in his life was okay— somehow okay. It’s written with such excitement and Dennis can barely even remember how he looked or how he felt then. 

October 05: Michael’s Sabbatical Ends :) 

Dennis feels like he’s being put through a woodchipper. In Nebraska, their neighbours had a woodchipper that they’d borrow sometimes. Dennis always hated it. The aggravating sound of a whole bark getting chunked and cut into pieces in a metal machine, like it’s fighting for its own life inside the machine. Sometimes, Dennis swears he could feel it in his hands, the way they snapped and splintered. 

Dennis feels like that now. 

That’s where the cigarette comes in. 

Somewhere between his undergrad— something about the heaviness of religion and the fact that he wanted out, Dennis has picked up the habit of smoking. Med school showed him a hundred different pictures of collapsed lungs to the point where Dennis finally decided to quit cold turkey. 

Dennis picks up smoking again the week after 302. He doesn't do it in the ambulance bay like the others do. Dennis walks around the bay, and slinks into a small passageway that leads to the hospital gardens. It's a place he used to haunt when he lived in the hospital. It's small with a few benches and there aren't a lot of plants or trees to look at, but the smell of the flowers reminds him of his Mama’s garden. 

For his own mental health, it's a better place to get some air rather than going to the rooftop. 

Dana finds him there after one shift and doesn’t even try to hide the surprise on her face when she sees him nursing a cigarette. Just gives him a nod of understanding. 

Today is a quiet day. Though Dennis would never try to utter that word, superstitions and everything. It was easy to slip past Dana, who gave him a knowing smile as he exited the ambulance bay and into his little sanctuary. 

Dennis is sitting on a bench when he hears footsteps. He jumps a bit when he turns and sees Jack smiling at him. He wonders briefly if Dana had ratted out his secret hiding place.

“Hey, Kid.” 

“Doctor Abbot.” Dennis greets, putting his cigarette down to stub it when Jack shakes his head. Jack settles down beside him. 

“Don’t stop on my account.” 

Dennis freezes, stuck between stubbing his newly lit cigarette or keeping it lit. 

They’re not close per se. Dennis has kept him at arms length at all times, stuck between wanting to know more about Robby and not wanting to know anything about the older man. 

“He’s home now.” Jack announces to the empty garden.

Dennis swallows dry, “I thought so.” 

Actually, Dennis knows. He knows because when he was last supposed to come visit the house, there’s an open window and music drifting from inside the house that stopped him in his tracks. The front porch lights are still open. Dennis has always left it open in hopes that if Robby comes home, he will see the light and know that someone is waiting for him to come home. It’s something Robby’s Bubbe did for him when he was growing up.

Dennis stared at the house for a few minutes before he turned around and started walking back to the bus stop. 

“He’s coming back on Monday.” Jack continues on, he’s talking so much slower than his usual tempo. Like he’s talking to a grieving wife, which in itself is probably enough to send Dennis into hysterics, “I think you guys should talk.”

”About what?” Dennis turns so fast he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplashed. The cigarette is still in between his fingers, long forgotten now. 

Jack looks at him like he’s being dumb. Dennis hates it. 

“About whatever the hell you guys were before this whole thing—“ 

“We were nothing!” Dennis firmly defends. The feeling of the wood chipper is back, his skin is being splintered into thousands of pieces, “We were— We’re nothing.” 

Jack stares at him for a second before he clicks his tongue, “Stubborn motherfuck— You and him are perfect for each other.” 

Dennis stares at him as Jack pushes forward to take the cigarette in his hands, “Gimme that. These last three months have aged me ten years.” 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Dennis comments. 

Jack rolls his eyes, “Remnants of college. I’ve learned not to reach for it for every little itch.” 

“Good for you.” Dennis answers, though he sounds very bitter. 

They stand in the quiet garden for a few more minutes. Staring at nothing, listening to the sounds Pittsburgh makes, just existing. 

Dennis doesn't know what pushes him to open his mouth. But then again, the splintered wood is bound to come out of the woodchipper one way or another and Dennis has been in it for months.

“I should've noticed sooner.” 

There’s no context needed. Dennis knows that Jack understands, maybe even feels the same way. 

“Eh.” He shrugs.

Dennis turns to him, “Eh? That's your response?” 

Jack blows a puff of smoke, “Come on, kid. Out of all the people in this hospital you were the least likely to have known.”

Dennis feels slightly offended. He scoffs just as Jack shakes his head at him, “Not like that. All I am saying is that Robby's all smiley and soft around you. You were like the only thing that could make him smile the days leading up to the fourth of July. How could you have seen it if he wasn't actually doing all his grumpy shit around you?” 

Dennis turns away, staring at the dying marigolds in the flower bed across them as he tries to recount the days leading up to the fourth of July. He's done it many times in the last three months, and has almost made himself crazy. He recounts it all and blames himself for not seeing the signs. Robby was indeed happier then, lighter even. Dennis always chalked it up to that stage of suicide planning where they've made up their mind, where they now know that there's an end coming and it's giving them relief. 

This time though, Jack has shown him a new conclusion. 

Jack stubs the cigarette on the ash trash nearest to them, successfully snuffing the fire. He turns to Dennis with a deep inhale and takes him by the shoulder to face him. 

“Listen and let me speak before you blow your head off, okay?” Jack asserts, “I don’t care what you guys were. I don’t know what you kids call it these days— Situationship or whatever Samira was saying.” 

Dennis chokes, Jack holds a finger up at him. 

“You guys are nothing if it's a casual hook up with no string attached. That’s nothing. You know why I know it’s not nothing— you and Robby?” Jack doesn’t wait for his answer, bulldozes on to his next point, “I know it’s not nothing because a few weeks before the fourth of July, we went out for a drink. He asked me to pay for his tab so he could go piss and when I opened his wallet, there was a picture of you.” 

“What?” Dennis heaves in surprise. 

Jack gives him a knowing look, “It’s a photobooth strip cut in half. It was the two of you. One of them had Robby looking at you as you smiled at the camera and the other one had—“ 

“I know.” Dennis shakes his head, “I know what the pictures were. I was in it.” 

Dennis remembers it so clearly. It’s one of the days after a stressful day at work and neither of them wanted to go home. Something about the silence and being left alone with their thoughts. Somehow that ended with both of them in an arcade playing like two kids and having the time of their life. 

It was him that pulled Robby into the photobooth. Dennis’ copy of the strip is still tucked in between an old religion book he had from college, marking a page about jewish traditions. 

Jack watches him before sighing, “If it’s nothing, then talking to him shouldn’t be a big deal.” 

Dennis feels his insides aching as the truth stumbles out of him, “I— I put him in that hold. It was all my fault. He probably hates my guts! How could he want to talk to me? I should— I don’t know. Put in for a transfer.” 

“Don’t be an idiot, Whitaker.” Jack demands, “You saved his damn life.” 

Dennis opens his mouth to say something when Jack shakes his head. Dennis wishes he stops shaking his damn head at him, “No, no, enough. You know this was the right thing to do. Now all that's left to do is to talk about it before Robby comes back to the ER and you guys explode over each other while trying to resuscitate a patient.” 

“What do you want me to do? Just go visit him at home?” Dennis sarcasatically asks. 

Jack lights up, giving his back a pat that’s strong enough to shake him. He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he stands up, tapping at it urgently before looking back at him, “There you go! I’ve let him know you’re coming by this evening.” 

Dennis stares at him stunned. He can’t be serious. 

Jack starts walking away from him, Dennis scrambling to follow him, “What? No, that was sarcas—“ 

Jack interrupts, “I’ve texted him already. He’ll probably reply in about 2 seconds.” 

“Robby doesn’t text that fast.” Dennis glares at him, “Take it back. Tell him I can’t come. What the hell—“ 

Jack’s phone dings, making both of them pause and look at it. Jack smirks at him, “Robby does text fast. Only when it’s about you.” 

This is ridiculous. Dennis doesn’t have to stay here. He can just walk away, go back inside and finish his shift. After that, Dennis will go home and have some leftover adobo for dinner and call it a day. Then he should probably look into that transfer. 

Dennis tries to speed walk away from Jack, ready to march back inside the ED when Jack speaks up again, “Robby says he’ll wait for you. Whenever you’re ready. Doesn’t have to be today, but he said he’ll leave the front porch light on. Whatever that means for you kids.” 

There’s an ambulance siren coming down the street before Dennis can even utter any word. Jack gives him a knowing look as they arrive at the ambulance bay just as the ambulance pulls into the bay. 

“If Robby wants to talk, he can come talk to me.” 

Jack gives him an incredulous look. 

Dennis pushes forward as the EMTs open the back doors, “Thomas Smith, 38. Sleeve got caught in a woodchipper, his fingers are intact but experienced a lot of trauma. We’ve stopped the bleeding with a tourniquet.”

Dennis doesn’t miss Jack’s whispered complaint as he rushes past him with the gurney. 

“Stubborn motherfuckers.” 

Dennis doesn’t talk to Robby and before he knows it, it’s already Monday. He doesn’t know if it’s shame or embarrassment or a fragment of pride in his chest. 

Or maybe, it’s this: Dennis doesn’t want to hear that it’s over from a version of Robby who’s in a better place. Hearing ‘we’re nothing’ from a version of Robby who’s broken was easy. He wasn’t in the right space of mind to be able to make that decision, that Robby was fueled with fear and anger and betrayal. 

This Robby? The one who’s been in a treatment center, who’s been outside of Pittsburgh and has been given time away from the horrors they experience in the hospital? This Robby is clear minded and Dennis thinks— knows— that it’ll hurt more. It’ll hurt more than those words Robby has hurtled at him while he was in one of the patient beds. 

So Dennis doesn’t talk to him and Monday comes. Trinity has to force him to eat something in fear that he’ll fall over in the middle of the Emergency Room. 

When they arrive at PTMC, Robby is already there. Dennis pauses at the doorway for a moment, watches as Robby smiles down at whatever Princess just said. 

It has been an unspoken agreement— if you can call what Dana has done, which was talk to each nurse and doctor one by one, an unspoken agreement— that no one mentions the whole debacle. Maybe a few words of encouragement but no whispered gossip, no jokes, no inquiries. Nothing of that sort.

Even from a far, Dennis can tell that Robby looks— healthier. Better. There’s color in his cheeks, and he’s filling his clothes just fine. Something settles in Dennis’ chest, and it's been so long that Dennis doesn’t even recognize that it’s happiness. Happiness over the fact that Robby looks well.

Dennis did the right thing. Robby is better and doing well. Dennis did the right thing. Robby is back at work and smiling at their coworkers like nothing has happened to him. Dennis did the right thing. Robby is alive and they’re nothing. 

Dennis looks away and walks straight to one of the patient rooms to join Mel and Victoria as they talk handoffs with the night shift crew. He does what he has been doing for the last three months— which was focus on his patients, keep his head down and work himself to the bones. 

Dennis tries his best to avoid working with Robby as much as he can and instead seeks Al-Hashimi’s guidance— Dennis thanks his lucky stars that she's staying an extra week just to help and let Robby settle back in. He vaguely wonders if this is what Trinity felt the first day Langdon came back to work and she looked like a spooked cat every time he was in the vicinity.

And really, Dennis tries to avoid him. But it’s a damn small department. 

“Double trauma incoming! No information yet.” Dana calls out from the bay. Dennis stands up from the charting he’s doing as Robby comes out from one of the patient rooms, sanitizing his hands as he passes by, “Who’s free?” 

Dana points at him, Dennis stops the urge to point to himself in disbelief, “Whitaker, Santos, with Doctor Robby. Mohan, Joy, with Doctor Al-Hashimi, please!” 

Dennis hops beside Trinity as the emergency room doors open, the EMTs rushing in with the stretcher. There’s a man in his mid-40s laying on the stretcher, and there’s blood everywhere. 

“What do we have?” Robby asks, starting to put gloves on as they jog along the EMTs. Dennis opts to stand on the other side of the stretcher rather than beside him. 

“On my count.” They each take a corner of the bed to transfer the patient from the stretcher to the bed, “One, two, three.” 

One of the EMTs starts speaking, “This is Allan Murphy. 43 years old, auto vs motorcycle. He wasn’t wearing a helmet but his head is intact. Pulse thready, possible internal bleeding. Responsive at the scene but lost consciousness. Started a liter of NS.” 

Dennis freezes, his hands pulling away unconsciously just as Trinity looks up from inspecting the patient’s body. 

Statistically, an emergency room gets twelve motorcycle accidents in a day. In 2022, 15% of the traffic fatalities are due to motorcyclists. Dennis knows this because he has obsessively read almost every study about it. Not everyone in the ED knows that it’s his thing— the thing that makes him freeze up and stare before his brain starts working again. 

Trinity knows, of course, who makes it her mission to take the motorcycle cases when she can. Jack knows because of the one time they had to do a trauma case together while they were in the middle of a hand off. Mckay knows because, well, Dennis chalks it to her ability to read people easily. 

“Is there a problem?” Robby asks as he watches the two of them watch each other, Dennis’ hands are still hovering.

For the first time since the day has started, Dennis and Robby’s eyes meet. Dennis doesn’t have time to dwell on his feelings as he shakes his head. He can do this, it’s just another motorcyclist. 

It’s not Robby. Robby’s standing in front of him, breathing and well and alive.

“There’s no problem.” Dennis clicks his light on, checking the patient’s eyes, “7 millimeters. Nonreactive.”

“Got it,” Trinity nods, as they finally spring into action. 

They end up in Trauma One, trying their damndest to keep the patient alive. In between trying to save the patient, Dennis is reminded of the fact that Robby and him have always worked together like a well oiled machine. Robby’s about to instruct them to intubate, and Dennis is already there holding the tube. Dennis asks for another bag of blood and Robby’s already beside him. Robby’s about to shout for compressions, and Dennis is already holding his hands together on the patient’s chest. 

“Still asystole.” Trinity calls out. 

“Push another epi.” Robby calls back, standing at the foot of the bed watching the screen. 

The patient isn’t coming back. It’s their third epi and the board is still flatlining. Dennis knows what this means. He hates that in such a short time he’s spent in the ED, he’s learned how to tell if a patient is coming back or not. 

Dennis remembers Mr. Milton in times like this and his hands don't stop doing compressions. 

“Pulse check.” Robby demands. 

“Nothing.” Trinity answers back, but she’s just looking at Dennis now. They’re staring at each other and Trinity shakes her head at him. 

“He’s been down for more than five minutes.” A nurse announces from beside Dennis. Dennis is too lost in his head to pinpoint who it is. 

Dennis doesn’t stop. Instead, he turns to Robby who’s watching him with such intensity it should’ve knocked him down. Dennis doesn’t know what his face is doing but he tries to beg for one more chance. He doesn’t know who needs it more. Dennis or the patient. 

Robby reads him easily, like three months hasn’t passed by and Dennis is still his favorite book to read.

Robby nods at him, “Push another epi.” 

The nurses move around Dennis. No words are uttered. The room is quiet, other than the insistent sound of the machine. Dennis does the compressions for another short while. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, he rarely does in the ED. 

“Pulse check.” One of the nurses asked. 

Trinity answers again, her eyes boring into Dennis, “Still nothing.” 

“There’s no cardiac activity as well.” Robby clears his throat and Dennis takes this as his cue. 

Dennis steps away and for a few seconds, Trauma One stands still. No one moves and breathes and Dennis feels as if everything has been put on pause. 

Perlah breaks the silence, “Time of death?”

They turn their heads at Dennis, and really Dennis appreciates the sentiment. The sentiment that they think he might’ve wanted to be the one to call the time of death. But Dennis doesn’t really want to. There’s an exhaustion in his bones at this point, and he doesn’t know if it’s from the body exertion or from the deep seated anger he now has on motorcyclists. 

Robby answers for him, “12:38 PM.” 

And usually, Dennis is the last one in the room. He always stays the longest for a brief moment of silence. To think of the life that has been lost, to say his well memorized prayers and hope that they get to go to whatever afterlife they believed in. 

This time, Dennis is out of the room before anyone can even utter another word. 

Dennis keeps himself busy. It’s not necessarily busy, and he must admit that Robby picked a good day to return. The patients come and go fast and the patients who have to stay have all been patient and kind about the wait time. Dennis basically drowns himself in charting after he’s checked on his patients. Maybe it's pure spite, but he finishes charting faster than he has ever had before. 

Dana takes notice and subtly stands in front of his station, “You good, Whitaker?” 

“I am fine.” Dennis answers, and even to his own ears, he knows he sounds completely fucked. 

Dana clicks her tongue, “You’re done with charts, eh?” 

Dennis looks up at her in surprise, “How’d you know?” 

“I know stuff.” Dana shrugs, smirking at the kid. She looks around before she offers a turned over hand. Dennis looks at her curiously, accepting whatever she’s offering secretly. 

Dennis breaks into a small smile when he feels the body of a cigarette against his palm, “What’s this for? I’m pretty sure I can’t smoke in here.” 

“Okay, smart ass.” Dana glares at him playfully, “Go on to your little garden, take a smoke break. I’ll call you when we need you.”  

“I don’t need a break.” Dennis petulantly answers back. Though his body screams for a break, his fingers itching for a cigarette. Dennis thinks he should really start thinking of quitting again, but he doesn’t think that would be today. 

“Kid, take my offer.” Dana pats his back, her face softening in the motherly affection he’s gotten used to getting from her, “Go on. You need it after that trauma case.” 

Dennis stands up, reaching over for his zipped hoodie and wrapping his body with it, “You’ll call me when you need me?”

Dana nods, “I promise, I promise.” 

“Alright.” Dennis walks off, as Dana proudly cheers, “Attaboy.” 

In the garden, Dennis stays standing up as he smokes and stares at a wall of flowers. He’s glad he wore his hoodie as the October chill sweeps against his scrubs. When he takes his smoke breaks, Dennis usually tries to clear his mind. A restart button for when he heads back inside the ED. 

This time though, his thoughts are plagued by Robby. His leaving has left a big hole in Dennis’ life, he doesn’t deny that. He just hadn’t realized how much he missed Robby in the Emergency Room until he was back in it— in the middle of the chaos and in action. 

Dennis shakes his head, like the action itself would make the thoughts dissipate. There’s a file for a transfer on his desk at home. It’s gonna be a long winded process, he knows this but he also knows that it’s the right decision. PTMC is Robby’s and Dennis has yet to set roots deep enough that in a few years he hopes— he prays desperately—  that it would ache a little less. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” 

Dennis turns in surprise, cigarette still between his fingers, half hanging off his lips. 

Robby’s standing behind him, a few feet away. His hands are deep in his pockets, his own jacket zipped up to cover him from the cold. It’s a familiar clothing article, one Dennis has slept with while he was house sitting. 

This conversation is bound to happen anyway. Dennis has prepared himself— he tried. Robby tells him he doesn’t want him in his ED, doesn’t want him around anymore. Maybe Robby thanks Dennis for what he did, but never finds it in his heart to forgive him for doing it. 

Dennis has played this conversation a million times in his head. He is hopeful that readiness will make it hurt less.

“I stopped a long time ago.” Dennis blows off a puff of smoke, his voice coming out scratchy, “Just picked it up again.”

“Just picked it up again, huh?” Robby gives him a small smile and Dennis avoids his eyes, he doesn’t think he deserves to be on the receiving end of that, “I stressed you out that much?” 

“Mhm.” Dennis clenches down on his teeth, watching his feet instead of looking directly at the man in front of him. The cigarette burns in his hand, as he takes another drag. 

“You know those things can kill you, right?” Robby jokes. 

Dennis lifts up his head to see him better. He’s still giving Dennis the small smile, and it’s so reminiscent of the look he used to give him when they were teasing each other. None of the scenarios he had made up in his head had offered a version of this conversation where Robby is smiling at him. 

It makes his heart beat faster in resentment. 

“That’s supposed to be funny?” Dennis spits back, finally turning around to snuff his cigarette in the ash trash. 

“I mean I was trying to joke—“ Robby starts, scratching his nape but Dennis interrupts, already shaking his head, “What do you want, Dr. Robby? Can we just please go straight to it and leave the pleasantries behind?”

“Whitaker— Dennis.” Robby squints at him and Dennis ignores the fact that he sounds like he’s begging, “Straight to what?” 

Dennis is breathing harder now, his chest is about to burst in his chest and when he looks down on his shoes again, he sees a speck of blood from the last trauma. It doesn’t help, if anything it helps the anger building up in his chest spill over. 

“To whatever you want to say. Are you going to yell at me? Are you going to punch me? Are you going to ask me to transfer? Which one is it? I can take it, Dr. Robby, but let’s just get it over with.” Dennis rants, his breathing hitching with every word. He feels hot all over. 

Robby takes a cautious step forward and Dennis takes another step back. The movement halts Robby in his place and Dennis doesn’t know why there’s clear hurt on his face. 

“I am not going to yell at you, or punch you, or ask you to transfer.” Robby announces, “I am here to apologize.” 

Dennis looks at him in disbelief, scoffing as he repeats the words, "Apologize? To who? Me?" 

“Yes. That was the plan.” Robby hums, brown eyes staring intensely at him. 

“For what, Robby?” Dennis asks, almost hysterically, as the words stumble out of his chest to his mouth. His eyes welled up with tears, though he’s not sure if it's from frustration or fear, “I am the one who put your career in jeopardy by putting you on that hold. I was the one who filled out that form. I was the one who sent you away. You should be angry. You should be screaming at me. Because you know what? I don’t regret it. I don’t fucking regret it.” 

“Dennis.” Robby calls out, he steps forward and this time Dennis doesn’t move away. 

“No, no, Robby. You don’t understand. I saw your letters. I saw it. I never read it but it was there. It’s actual proof that you could’ve been gone, that you could’ve—“ Dennis runs a hand on his face, blinking down tears as he pushes through, hand fisted into a ball on his lips, “I don’t regret it and I get it. You deserve to be angry. You deserve to—“ 

Dennis loses all his words when Robby’s hand cups his jaw. Dennis tries to swallow the small whine that escapes his lips as he melts into the familiar touch. He thumbs away some of Dennis’ stray tears, finger caressing the softness of his cheek. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Robby whispers, quiet and private and just for them. 

Just for him. 

It’s only then does Dennis look up to meet his eyes and sees that Robby’s own eyes are filled with tears. Even with tears in his eyes, Dennis sees the expression on Robby’s face. It’s the patented soft smile that Dennis had hoped was only for him. The one where Robby’s eyes crinked in the corners, his eyes sparkling with such fondness and his lips pulled into a small smile. 

Dennis wasn’t ready for this scenario. The scenario that maybe Robby was never angry with him to begin with. 

Like he can hear Dennis’ thoughts— and maybe he can— Robby speaks up, “I was only angry at myself. I was angry that I’ve let it get that bad that you saw that version of me. You were never meant to see that and I lashed out. I screamed and pushed you away. I pushed everyone away.” 

Dennis lets out a surprised laugh and the reaction is instantaneous. A smile spreads wider on Robby’s face, “I am being serious, Dennis. What’s so funny?” 

“You— Michael Robinavitch— are actually communicating.” Dennis laughs in disbelief, “You’re telling me things.” 

Robby chuckles, “Therapy does that to you, I guess.” 

Dennis reaches a tentative hand to the front of his scrubs, tugging it into a ball to pull Robby closer. 

“I am sorry.” 

“Robby—“ 

“Let me speak. I’ve been practicing this speech for almost two months.” Robby reaches out to tug on one of his curls, “I am sorry for screaming at you that day. I am sorry for airing out our dirty laundry. I am sorry you had to find the notes. I am sorry for being such a mess that you had to take care of me.” 

“It wasn’t a hardship—“ 

“Dennis,” Robby cups his jaw once again, forcing him to look him in the eyes. Dennis looks up at the familiar brown eyes and Dennis is astounded at how much livelier it looks now. Gone are those haunted eyes he’s seen on the fourth of July, “I am sorry for saying that we were nothing.” 

“What?” Dennis gasps in surprise. 

Robby stares at him, hand back to caressing his cheek, “I don’t know about you but for me, it was never nothing. Even when it was only a casual thing. It was never fully casual for me. It has always been— something. It was everything for me, Dennis.” 

“Oh.” Dennis is rendered speechless once again, his hands tighten on Robby’s shirt, pulling him effectively closer.  

It’s always been everything for Dennis as well. 

Dennis thinks Robby deserves to hear that one so he takes a deep breath before saying, “It’s everything for me as well.” 

Robby looks at him for a second, like he holds all the answers in the universe and Dennis wonders if that’s how he looks at Robby as well. 

“My therapist says I shouldn’t make rash decisions after such a big emotional turmoil.” Robby says but there’s another teasing smile on his face, “But I’ve made this decision way before I even had the turmoil.”

“What decision is that?” Dennis whispers between the gap that’s growing smaller between them. 

Robby pauses, staring at his eyes with unadulterated fondness, before he confesses,

“Choosing you, sweetheart.”

Michael is smiling when their lips meet. 

It’s not their first kiss— that happened in a back alley behind a bar in downtown Pittsburgh. That one is heated and passionate and months worth of tension builded up. Dennis loops his arms around his neck, as Michael pulls him closer by the waist. 

This kiss also makes Dennis feel the months worth of tension built up, but instead of the heat, it’s tender. Like it’s something they’ve missed and longed for. Dennis angles his head to give him better access, and Michael follows pliantly. Dennis feels as if he’s being kissed by Michael for the first time once again. Maybe it’s just always going to be that way with him. Every kiss feels like it's their first, feels like it’s coming home. 

Dennis pulls away first, but Michael doesn’t go very far. He leans his head forward, forehead against his. 

“Thank you.” He whispers. 

Dennis opens his eyes to look at him, “For what?” 

Michael doesn’t open his eyes, “For filing up the form. For seeing me as someone worth saving. For seeing me.” 

Dennis pulls back, his hand now coming up to cup his jaw. Michael finally opens his eyes, brown shiny eyes looking down at him with such adoration it almost knocks the breath out of Dennis’ lungs.  

“Always.” Dennis smiles at him, “Always, Michael.” 

They know they don’t have much time. Any moment now and Michael’s and his phone is going to start beeping. They soak each other's presence as best as they can, arms and skin on each other. 

“I saw you.” Michael says against his hair, his head on top of Dennis’ head. 

Dennis hums, “Saw me?” 

“The look you had when the motorcyclist came.” 

Dennis freezes against his chest. 

The action makes Michael pull away, ducking his head to meet his eyes. 

“I don’t know how to undo that damage. I will try.” Michael promises, “But I have to tell you, the bike is gone.” 

Dennis gapes at him, “Sorry, what?” 

“The bike. I sold it in Alberta.” 

Dennis’ brain isn’t online at the moment, so he asks, “How the hell did you get home?” 

Michael laughs out loud and it’s a welcome sound. It’s a sound Dennis has missed dearly, “Baby, there’s these things called planes. I rode one.” 

Dennis continues staring in disbelief, “But— but why? You loved that stupid thing.” 

“Jack mentioned that one trauma case you worked on together. How hard it was for you. I think he was trying to scare me and hey, it worked.” Michael smiles expectantly at him. Dennis feels like he’s missing something crucial. 

”You did it for—?” Dennis leaves the sentence up in the air. 

“For you, Dennis.” Michael finishes the sentence, “I did it for you.” 

At some point, they hear the familiar ambulance sirens from afar. By then they knew that it’s time for them to head back to the ED. They walk back together, fingers touching slightly with every step. They hear the familiar ambulance sirens coming closer as they enter the bay. 

“I’ll see you at home?” Robby asks as they stand and wait, “I’ll leave a light on.” 

Dennis smiles at him, finger curling around Robby’s finger for a quick second before letting it go as the ambulance pulls in. 

“I’ll see you at home.” 

Dennis takes the bus to Michael’s house. They didn’t go together because Trinity had to pull him aside and had demanded for a debrief before he disappeared to have make-up sex— as she calls it.

There’s a light on in front of the familiar red bricked home. It’s emitting a yellow glow that basks Dennis in warmth and familiarity as he pushes the doorbell. 

The spare key burns on his pocket. But Dennis doesn’t use it. 

The door swings open and Michael stands in front of him. A smile wide on his face. 

“Dennis.” Michael greets. 

“Michael.” Dennis greets back. 

Michael smiles and lands a soft kiss on his cheek. A hand snaking around his waist to pull him closer.

Dennis knows this journey wouldn’t be easy. That this wouldn’t be the first bump, that this wouldn’t be the last hurdle. But Michael’s smiling at him and looking at him with such reverence that Dennis thinks— no, believes— that this is it. 

“Welcome home.” 

Dennis walks in and smiles. His own hands wrapping around Michael, as he tucks Dennis under his arms. It’s warm and soft and familiar.

Dennis Whitaker is home. 

The front porch light stays on.