The drive to Petersburg, Virginia, pours out of him: a memory in slow motion.

Green fields blurring past the windows, telephone lines trailing across the sky. Behind the wheel, Tramell Tillman, then in his 20s, sits in silence, his mother beside him. It’s the holiday season — a time of hushed reverence and fragile traditions, of winter roses and greeting cards that can say too little or too much. They’re headed to visit his grandmother, the family matriarch. But Tre, as his family calls him, has brought something else on the trip: a truth that has matured quietly inside him for years. “Mom, I’m bisexual,” he says to her, his eyes fixed on the road.

She glances at him, surprise flickering across her face, before turning her gaze back to the highway: “Well, how’s that going for you?”

Jack doesn’t think Robby should be alone right now. Robby doesn’t particularly want to be alone either. They try to take care of each other.

Set directly after the finale.

They took Nicky in 1983. This is everything that happened next.

“What happened?” Robby asks.

“You passed out,” Dana says. “In front of the med students.”

He may hate himself for needing it, but not enough to stop. or: The sexual emancipation of Dale Jennings in four acts.

In The Pitt Season 1, Robby is “a drowning man that doesn’t know he’s drowning yet,” says star and executive producer (and writer and director) Noah Wyle. “At the end of it, he recognizes the need for a life preserver. He’s still got a long way to swim to shore though.”

“You don’t have to sign,” she says, and means it. “We can try beta blockers again. Sedation. Ice baths. Whatever gets you through the next few hours.”

Abbot seems to consider it, then reaches for the tablet, quickly scribbling something vaguely resembling a signature before handing it back to her.

“I’d rather not die in front of you if I can help it,” he says. “Also, I’ve wanted to fuck you since that night you left a Lancet editorial in my mailbox with a sticky note that said ‘this is your fault.’”

In experimental methodology, a round-robin test is an interlaboratory test (measurement, analysis, or experiment) performed independently several times.

Or: it had been naive to assume it would work the first time.

After the work, the rest.

In a remote outback mining station a town gathers for the annual rodeo - but as a series of tragic events unfold, a young man bears witness to something he will never forget.

Short film narrated by Sam Reid.

The first time Jack meets Michael Robinavitch, he’s at PTMC for an attending interview in what turns out is pretty terrible circumstances, because the Chief Attending—and Robinavitch’s mentor—just died. Jack doesn’t know it, but his life is about to change irrevocably.

Or, five times they learn to count on each other, and one time they finally figure out what it means that they do.

“Please, I’m fifty-three years old,” he said, dismissive. “I’ve had every type of sex there is.”

They were grabbing an early dinner before Jack went in for his shift, Robby on his day off. Robby telling tales on his day off, it seemed. Jack was practically required to scoff at him. “Like hell you have.”

Robby leveled him with a look. “And how would you know?”

“Because I know you. And you have never once given up control.”

It’s who you know.

Over a year after Pittfest, Heather and Robby are in a stable relationship once more, and Heather’s feeling good about where she’s at, even after stopping her IVF treatments.

So of course that’s when she gets pregnant.

Poppy was safe. One innocent life, far too precious to be lost, had been returned to the universe.

One more to go.

Post-The Reality War.

Miraculous last-second rescues by strange women, in Rogue’s experience, usually have strings attached.

“Be still for me, c’mon,” Jack says under his breath, lifting his hand and bringing it back down to start again, a little more pressure this time. The whole left side of Robby’s back is compressed, tight muscles drawing his hip up to his ribs and crunching him at the waist. “You know, you wouldn’t get this bad if you just did your stretches.”

There are two different foam rollers under their bed and a Theragun in the nightstand drawer, but Jack would comfortably bet money on being the only one that’s used them in months. Robby knows better, but Robby knowing something and Robby doing something are two entirely different subjects.

Jack looked from the intern picture to Robby again, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes. “Jesus, this is like a recipe.” He gestured between the picture and Robby, young and old. “It’s like twink plus seasoning equals daddy. Fuck,” he said, a kind of helpless note to it. Then he walked out, like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Robby’s head.

What did that mean?

“You want to talk about it?” Jack asked, and tossed a pillow on the floor between his legs.

“Uh, Dr. Robby?” It was Dr. Santos; Robby was just about to turn around and tell her that he still had fifteen minutes before his shift started when she continued, “I think there’s something wrong with Dr. Abbot.”