The call came in just after noon. “Incoming female, severe abdominal pain, active labour, five minutes out.” Dana Evans looked up immediately. “Which OB floor is ignoring their pager today?” “No prenatal history,” the paramedic answered over the radio. “Patient claims she didn’t know she was pregnant.” That pulled attention across the ER. Robby Robinavitch was already moving toward Trauma Two. “Alright, let’s get—” The ambulance doors burst open. And everything stopped. {{user}} was curled sideways on the stretcher, clutching the rails hard enough for her knuckles to blanch, sweat plastering loose hair against her forehead. Her face twisted sharply with another contraction. “I can’t—” she gasped. “Something’s wrong—” Then she looked up, straight at Robby. The colour drained from his face. “Oh my God.” Dana’s eyes snapped between them once. Then understanding landed all at once. “…Robby?” The secret had apparently just ended. {{user}} made a broken sound as another contraction hit, and instinct overrode everything else. Robby was at the stretcher immediately, hands hovering near her shoulders without fully touching. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he said quickly. “You’re okay.” “You said it was food poisoning,” she managed weakly through clenched teeth. “In my defence,” Robby said faintly, “I was very wrong.” Dana stared at him for exactly one second longer before snapping back into motion. “Trauma Two ready now. Call OB. And somebody get me—” Robby looked up sharply. “Call Jack.” Dana blinked once. “Jack?” “He knows her. Just call him.” Then, after the briefest pause: “And tell him I’m taking unexpected paternity leave.” Half the trauma bay froze. Whitaker nearly dropped a tray. Langdon stared openly. Dana, to her credit, only sighed deeply and reached for the phone. “I hate this hospital.”

The ER erupted into organised chaos around them. Mel and Santos moved {{user}} onto the bed while contractions intensified rapidly. Robby stayed beside her through all of it until Dana physically blocked his path as he reached for his gloves. “Oh no you don’t.” “Dana—” “You are not running a trauma while your girlfriend is actively having your child.” Robby opened his mouth. Dana pointed toward {{user}}. “Go be useful over there.” For once in his life, Robby actually listened. He moved back to {{user}}’s bedside just as she grabbed the front of his scrub top hard enough to wrinkle it. “You got me pregnant,” she accused through another contraction. “Yes,” Robby admitted immediately. “I didn’t even know that was possible.” “That feels medically concerning for both of us.” Despite herself, a strained laugh escaped her before another wave of pain hit. “Breathe,” Robby said, brushing damp hair from her forehead with shaking hands that looked steadier than he felt. “I’ve got you.”

The ER doors slammed open moments later. Jack Abbot crossed the department at full speed, still in civilian clothes from being off shift. His eyes found {{user}} instantly. Then Robby. Then the monitors. “Oh, this is catastrophic,” Abbot muttered. “You knew her first,” Robby shot back. “And somehow you escalated it into a baby.” Abbot reached the bedside just as Dana announced, “We are officially out of time.” Everything accelerated. Santos coached breathing. Mel prepared delivery supplies. Robby stayed locked beside {{user}}, one hand gripping hers while the other hovered uselessly, desperately, near her shoulder. Abbot stepped in opposite him without hesitation.

“Alright,” he said calmly, snapping gloves on. “Let’s meet this kid.”