Chapter Text
"Forgiving is not forgetting; it's actually remembering--remembering and not using your right to hit back. It's a second chance for a new beginning. And the remembering part is particularly important. Especially if you don't want to repeat what happened."
Archbishop Desmond Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness
Spring comes to Pittsburgh like a wet cat.
Which is to say, that every time it felt like the warmth and sunlight had taken hold, it promptly slipped between your fingers and disappeared to God knows where.
And then the temperature promptly shifts, jumping into the 80's, leaving Dennis irritable and sweaty. It doesn't help that he has Match Day looming over him. He'd put PTMC at the top of his list, followed by every other emergency room he could think of in Pittsburgh.
But none of those other hospitals were his hospital. His home.
He knows Robby writing his letter of recommendation helps, but matching is never certain. He might not even stay in Pittsburgh. Dennis tries not to think about that possibility too often, but his brain has a wonderful way of circling back to the worst case scenario, over and over again.
An email from the medical school appears in his inbox. Registering for Match Day festivities, Dennis clicks through mindlessly.
Allergies? No. Dietary restrictions? No. Accessibility needs? No. Number of guests attending?
Dennis pauses at that one. The form indicates he can have two guests join for the letter opening ceremony. Would Robby and Jack want to come? Would they even be free? Dennis knows how rarely their schedules align for a day off. He decides to ask at dinner that night, trying not to get his hopes up.
Jack has the night off, so the three of them gather around the kitchen table, scraping up pasta and meatballs while each gives a weekly debrief. Jack had suggested it a few weeks into Dennis staying with them, that they try and have one meal a week where they can talk shop.
"And then it turned out that she'd been taking her roommate's Ozempic," Robby's saying, shaking his head. "Parts of her liver were entirely dead by the time she came in. And she had two massive blockages, one in her stomach and one in her GI tract. No wonder she couldn't keep any food down."
"Holy shit," Dennis breathes.
"Prepare to see more of that," Jack grunts. "Can't tell you how many non-diabetic patients now have GLP-1's prescribed."
"What about you, Dennis?" Robby bumps shoulders with him. "How's ortho going?"
"Dr. Park sure is…something," Dennis gives Robby a tiny smile. Jack cackles. "He's not a bad teacher or anything, but he's so…serious? His surgery playlist is full of Wagner."
"There is a reason he's called Park the Shark," Robby concedes, shaking his head. "You glad to be on your last rotation?"
Dennis nods emphatically around a mouthful of meatball. He swallows, nervous. "I actually had a question, for both of you."
"Shoot, mouse," Jack says.
"Do you - are either of you free, Match Day? It's the 20th. Next Friday."
Robby is already whipping out his phone, settling his glasses low on his nose. "What time is the ceremony, kiddo?"
"Noon. There's like a social mixer beforehand but everyone opens their letters at noon."
"I can be there," Jack says immediately.
Robby types away at his Google Calendar. "I'm scheduled to work but I'll see if Shen can cover me." His eyes flick up to Dennis'. "Even if I can't get the whole shift off, I can try and sneak out for a bit. That is, if you want us there?"
"Yes! Yes, of course," Dennis hurries to say. "The school sent a form for me to fill out, it says I can have two guests." He looks at Jack. "I really want you both there."
"Then we'll be there," Jack says. "Anything else you need for the day?"
Dennis shakes his head. "It's pretty informal. I heard most students wear jeans and their Match Day shirts."
"I'll make a note, we should do a nice dinner that night," Robby says. "No matter what happens, Dennis — Jack and I are so, so proud of you. And we'll support you, wherever you end up, okay?"
Dennis swallows, eyes burning with emotion, but grateful. "Okay."
Against his better judgement, Dennis texts his parents.
Graduating on Friday.
He doesn't know what expects. The last time Dennis saw his parents, it ended in a screaming match.
Dennis had gotten into University of Pittsburgh, signed over his soul for student loans, and then started packing. There was so little he wanted to take with him. Clothes, his laptop he'd bought in undergrad, his notes from his pre-med courses. He'd shoved it all in his shitty pickup before his father came home from the fields.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" The gruff voice had startled him, and Dennis whipped around. His hair had still been long, blowing into his face.
"Med school. Pittsburgh."
"I didn't pay for your theology degree for you to become a shill." Even the theology degree had almost been a bridge too far -- what girl needed an education to be a homemaker? But Dennis' mother had convinced his father, said that the Lord worked in mysterious ways. It would be good, she'd said, for the Sunday School to have a properly trained teacher. The full ride to Concordia had sealed the deal. Mr. Whitaker hadn't paid shit for it.
"You don't get to keep me here," Dennis had tried to keep his voice steady. "I know what I want to do. And I know who I am."
His father's face had darkened. "You know nothing. You've still got this fantasy in your head that you're a man? Good. Then you can take a punch like one."
His father's hand had reared back, and Dennis had braced himself, and then --
"John!" His mother's voice. The angriest he'd ever heard her. "Don't you dare lay a hand on my child."
His father had gritted his teeth, withdrawn his fist. "You're lucky I love your mother." He threw Dennis' backpack at him. "Well, go on. Go show the world what a big strong man you are. Just stay the hell away from us."
After his father had stormed back into the house, Dennis' mother remained standing on the porch. Dennis wanted to reach out, grab hold of her, feel her warmth one last time. The grief in her eyes stopped him.
"Goodbye, Delilah." His mother's words hurt worse than any blow from his father. "I love you."
In his years away from Nebraska, Dennis has learned two things. The first, is that he deserved better. The second, is that his parents know nothing but fear. The only face of God they have seen is wrathful.
So they lived by their rules. Clung to their doctrine. Prayed and fasted and held tight to the teachings. Doctrine was easy. Follow me, it whispered. I have the answer for everything.
Dennis is getting better about that now -- being "comfortable with uncertainty", his therapist calls it. Sometimes he'll still catch himself falling back into the same rigid doctrine. His throat will close up as Perlah describes fasting for Ramadan or Victoria gushes about Diwali or when Robby davens after a rough shift, and a voice unbidden suggests shouldn't you be trying to save them? Don't you want them in Heaven with you?
Slowly but surely, it's getting better. The voice gets quieter. Doctrine no longer seems so seductive when he's so surrounded by love.
There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and he who fears is not perfected in love.
Dennis watches now as the text goes from unread to read. Nothing pops up to indicate that either of his parents are typing a reply. His fingers pause over the screen.
There's a million things he wants to say to them. My name is Dennis. I'm happy. I still go to church. I miss you. I hate you.
He types none of these things. I forgive you comes out instead, flickering to life on the screen. He hesitates. Says a prayer. And presses send.
When the message is marked as received, Dennis blocks both numbers. He doesn't need to know if they read it or not. He doesn't want a response. He just wants them to know that he's free.
Dennis tries not to think about the worst case scenarios, standing in the atrium of the University of Pittsburgh's Medical School. Hundreds of others MS4s chatter excitedly all around him, with parents, partners, and even some children in tow.
"It's gonna be okay, kiddo." Jack says, as if sensing his unease. The man was supposed to be sleeping, but had taken his day instead to drive Dennis here and wait with him until the formal match letters were passed out at noon. "Mikey just texted, said he'll be over in a few minutes."
Dennis nods, trying to tamper his anxiety by biting into one of the complimentary bagels. They're swirled with yellow and blue dye -- Pittsburgh colors -- and Dennis had loaded his up with cream cheese on instinct. Before he'd moved in with Jack and Robby, Dennis had figured out how to take full advantage of the free food offered at student events.
People would notice someone taking multiple servings of food, but toppings? Those were just extra calories he could sneak in. So any event he attended, Dennis crafted the most calorie dense plate he could. An extra serving of cream cheese on a bagel. A dollop of ranch with pizza slices (even though he hated the combination). He even thought about if ice cream sprinkles would count.
"You doing okay?" Jack asks. "You're pretty quiet."
Dennis nods around the large bite he'd just taken. "'M okay, just…reminiscing."
Jack grunts, but he doesn't press any further. "Oh look, there he is, wandering around like a lost little lamb."
Dennis looks up and sees Robby coming through the doors of the atrium, fresh from The Pitt in his classic hoodie. As the two of them watch, he promptly bumps into a table holding iced cupcakes, apologizes to the table, and gets himself all turned around.
"Should we put him out of his misery?" Jack asks, eyebrow arched, pursed lips barely containing a laugh.
"Nah, I need all the serotonin I can get right now," Dennis says, taking another bite of his bagel. Jack snorts.
Eventually, Robby spots them and joins their little huddle, planting a quick kiss on Jack's cheek. "You handling being in the sunlight okay, sweetheart?"
Jack swats his arm. "About as well as you're handling all of your limbs in public, dear."
"That was a very inconveniently placed table."
Dennis lets himself relax while two men bicker good-naturedly, until his advisor suddenly appears before him.
"Mr. Whitaker," she says, handing him an envelope. "We're about to countdown to noon. Good luck."
Dennis takes the envelope, trying to steady his hands and return her smile. "Thanks, Sherry."
A large countdown from thirty seconds appears on a screen at the front of the atrium. Dennis sets his bagel aside, too nervous to hold anything but the envelope. The chatter around the room increases as students excitedly receive their Match letter envelopes.
20, 19, 18…
Robby's hand pats his shoulder, as though he's just guiding Dennis through another tricky procedure in The Pitt. "You ready, kid?"
Dennis swallows, then nods.
10, 9, 8…
Dennis wonders if his parents have even thought of him today. Jack murmurs something encouraging in his ear.
3, 2, 1…
The room erupts into a flurry of paper and delighted squeals. With trembling hands, Dennis opens the envelope and unfolds the letter, his heart in his throat. His eyes ard drawn instantly to the bold text in the center:
Congratulations, you have matched!
Institution Name: Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center
Program Name: Emergency Medicine
Dennis chokes out something between a laugh and a gasp, turning the letter over to Jack and Robby.
"Would you look at that?" Robby says, grinning from ear to ear. "It's a match."
Jack's hand lands on Dennis' shoulder, squeezing some life back into him. For once, Dennis' body doesn't flinch away from the contact, certain in his safety with the two men. "We're so proud of you, kid."
Dennis looks up at the two of them, and his brain comes to a screeching halt. "Do you -- would you mind if I stay, a little longer?" The attendings look confused and Dennis presses on. "Now that I'm an intern -- I can find my own place, but it'll be hard right at the start of the summer, but I could --"
Dennis' train of thought is promptly cut off by the full force of one Michael Robinavitch gathering him into a bone-crushing hug. "Dennis," he rumbles. "Why would we ever ask you to leave? You're our family now."
Dennis flicks his eyes to Jack, whose eyes are sparkling. "Are you sure?"
"We mean it, mouse," Jack wraps his arms around Dennis, and tries to temper all the joy he feels so he doesn't hold on too tight. He never wants to let go. "You're staying."
"Really?" Dennis asks, wet eyes flicking between Jack and Robby.
"Yeah, kid." Robby smiles so widely it hurts. "Welcome home."
