Robert let the phone rest in his hand for several minutes after Andy clicked off, He could hear the desperation and sadness in her voice. She needed him, and right now he did not have the willpower to be there for her. He wanted to be with her, to hold her and tell her that they were going to be fine. He'd done everything necessary to work toward his sobriety, for himself and for Andy. He'd told her that he loved her in the midst of a crisis— a high-stakes moment when his life was on the line. He could not have died there without letting her hear the words he had been afraid to say for so long. He loved her; she was his home, and he wanted her to be at his side for as long as whatever God or higher power there was up there would allow them to be together.

Now she needed him, wanted him close to her so that she had a shoulder to lean on. He had not expected to enter the "for worse" part of their "for better or worse" vows so soon, but here they were. With a resigned shake of his head, Robert collapsed back onto the couch. He did not want to cry; he was not someone who had any issue with emotions, but he was terrified that if he started crying now he would never stop. He was damaged and needed time to heal, but he also realized he couldn't do it alone. His arm ached; a side effect he knew all too well. He was in withdrawal and craving the pain-killers. He needed to do something before he wrecked it all again. There were only two people he could call who would get it.

When he had decided to get help, he turned to two of the best doctors at Grey-Sloan Memorial. Robert had been stubborn, resistant to any kind of treatment, and then the pandemic had made it increasingly difficult to get to meetings other than virtual sessions. He hated those virtual sessions! They made him feel like a number instead of a person. It had been Dr. Amelia Shepard who guided him through the process. Her methods were very orthodox, and she insisted that he stick to the program and work it until it yielded results. But Dr. Shepard was a lot better than Robert at detaching herself from her life to make her sobriety work.

She was the one who suggested that his choice to sleep with Andy and to admit he loved her had happened at the wrong time. She told him it was the drugs making him feel euphoric. She had advised him to live separately from Andy while he got treated, and then return with a clear view once he was sober. That way, he could know that what he felt wasn't just the drugs making him feel things he didn't want. He had to speak to someone who had been through what he was going through— that person was not Amelia, and he knew it. He placed his phone on the counter for a moment, the debate raging in his mind: What would happen if he took this leap? Would it be worth it, or would the cost be too great for him to reconcile? He could stay like this and risk losing the woman he loved, or he could face his fears and seek the help he needed. He searched for the right number in his contacts and then hit the call button, waiting impatiently as the other line rang.

"Hello?"

"Uh, I hope I have the right number, is this Dr. Webber? It's Robert Sullivan."

"Oh! What can I do for you, Robert?"

"You uh— you and I spoke when I came into the hospital recently. I am looking for a sponsor. I have a drug problem. I—well— I need help. I need to get better for my wife's sake.", Robert frowned. His only concern was Andy and getting back to her, to making her happy and living the best of his life with her. He wanted to get better for her and for their future. There was no world in which he would abandon the vows he'd made to her. She was his everything, and he could not spend his life with her if he died from an overdose. Gathering the will to say the words at last, he managed,

"I want to get better, and I can't do that without help."

"Okay, and what does that look like for you right now?"

"I don't really know. I know I need to figure out a plan, but I don't even know what that looks like. I'm lonely and I'm angry and I hate being away from my wife."

"Wait, wait. You and Andy. . . Aren't together right now?"

"No, Dr. Shepard said that in order for me to work the steps, Andy and I needed to be apart. She said that because I married her in the midst of my addiction, that I needed to find out who I was without her. She said it was a problem for my recovery. So we've been apart and I hate it. It's hell. I just want my wife, Richard. I love her."

"Does Andy make you want to get high?"

"What?" Robert's hands clenched and a small bead of perspiration appeared on his forehead. He remembered telling Andy that they were safe together, that he loved her. To him, the answer was obvious. She was perfect for him, there was no way. But of course, he was talking to a man who knew little to nothing about their relationship.

"Does your wife make you feel like going back to using?"

"No."

"Okay, then. Robert, Dr. Shepard is a colleague and she's a good one. She knows what it's like to suffer a very specific type of addiction. If Andy doesn't make you want to get high, then I don't see where there's an issue with you being home. No twelve step program requires you to separate from your spouse. In fact, that kind of isolation is more likely to make you want to go back to using. You need people in your corner who love you and want you to get better. I am certain that no one wants that for you more than she does. That woman loves you, she would literally walk through fire for you." Robert paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. He had spent all this time away from Andy for no reason at all.

He did not want to admit that being away from Andy had left him weak, or that the thought of her leaving him mad him sick to his stomach. There were no words that felt adequate to express that feeling. He had married her, taken vows in front of God, with her father as their witness. She was his wife, and he—

He had failed her; failed their union. He wondered if the bridges they had formed were irreparably burned now. Was there any coming back from this, even if he wanted her to be by his side forever?

"Robert. Go home. You still love Andy, I can hear it in your voice. Your wife is struggling and unless the two of you decide you made a mistake and you no longer want to be married, she is still your wife. Now, you have to decide if she's worth fighting for. If she isn't, then let her go and let her find a man who values her. But if she is—and I can tell she is— go home and fight for your marriage."

"Thank you, Richard. You're right. I need to go home, and I need to fight for this like hell. She's worth it, all of it, and I've done the worst job of my life at showing her how much she means to me."

"Good choice, son. Oh, and good luck." The line clicked and Richard was gone. Now he just had to let Andy know that he was coming home, and pray that she would be ready to welcome him.