Obvs not my real name, I'm not stupid. Old enough to remember the dark days.(36 as of 2025)
18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Header is by @patrick-stewart
My Mom (who I’m primary caregiver for) has early stage Alzheimer’s, is recovering from a stroke and is partially physically disabled. Her health is deteriorating, fairly rapidly. She is so much worse than she was even a month ago and I’m terrified she’s not going to get better. She’s the reason we’re moving, my brother wants us closer and we needed a far, far safer and more accessible house than we currently have.
And we had a health scare with Mom last night. I’m still shaking. I’m not going into details, I can’t, everything is too raw still.
All of this to say–I’m fully stepping back. After I post this, I’m logging out and deleting the app. I don’t know when or if I’ll be back. For those waiting for updates on my fics–I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ll have it in me to write for a while. I’m also sorry because I’m not going to be responding to messages or tags or anything like that, but I can’t focus on anything but my family right now.
I know this may seem like ghosting, and it’s not meant to be. At all. I love ALL of you, and I’m going to miss all of you. You all have truly been incredible and made this an amazing place and experience for me.
I asked Heather what kind of birthday fic she wanted and she asked for ‘only one bed’ and I started writing it and then went back and asked how she felt about double somno, which got an immediate ‘yes’.
This is queued to drop at midnight Heather’s time on October 18th, which means it’ll have been queued for AWHILE the next time I see this, so I apologize for any typos, because if I don’t put it in the queue-where it’s out of sight, out of mind-I’ll end up posting it early.
It’s not super smutty and actually rather tame for me but I like it and it’s what I had in me to write at the time.
I hope this next year is so very good to you and I hope you like this! 💋
contains- double somno (both parties sleeping),
~~~~~
You groaned, starring down at your phone. This fucking conference just kept getting better and better. First, the flight was delayed and you and the others didn't make it to the hotel until after 1 AM, then a reservation mixup resulted in you having to share a room with Santos and Garcia, you were beyond exhausted after too little sleep and a day full of panels and networking, all for this? "What's wrong?" Robby's voice made your head snap up, not having realized that you weren't actually alone in the hallway. You heaved a sigh, dropping your head back. "I've been sexiled." A sputtering noise made you look back at him. "I'm sorry, what?", you could see the pink edging up past his collar. "I've been sexiled. You know, when your roommate kicks you out so they can-" Robby waved off the rest of your sentence. "I know what it means. I'm just surprised it happened. Just, uh. Just you? Or one of the others too?" The flush was spreading and you watched in faint amusement as he reached up to rub the back of his head. "Cause, uh, I've got a king and a truly obscene amount of pillows to make a wall with." Wow, you didn't know he could turn that red, and you idly wondered how far down it went. "I'd say that you don't have to and ask if you were sure but I'm too fucking tired. Lead on, Macduff."
~~~~~~~~
You were having the most wonderful dream, one you'd had before but this time it was better. Curled up with Robby, his head buried in your neck as he kissed and nibbled your neck and shoulder, one of his hands under your shirt, pressing you into his chest while the other was wrapped around the back of the knee you had over his hip, pulling it higher, making more room for himself between your legs. He was teasing–rocking against you but not in you, despite your begging. You wished it wasn't doing it for you though, and his smug smile against your neck let you know that he knew that it was. You were so close…
~~~
Robby groaned deep in his chest, dream you was so responsive and already felt so good wrapped around him, and he hadn't even gotten your clothes off–your cunt around his cock was surely going to kill him. Dream you arched against him, trying to pull him closer with the leg around his hip. He could tell you were getting frustrated with his teasing, and he smirked because you were also getting close to that glorious edge. Robby shifted, pressing you back against the bed, rutting against you harder and faster…
~~~~
You both woke on gasp, shuddering and shivering through your orgasms, unable to do anything but stare at each other and ride it out. Feeling the last of the aftershocks fade, Robby flopped to the side, groaning and rubbing his face with both hands, he tried to put some distance between the two of you. "I am so sorry. I don't know what…I didn't mean to…Jesus Fucking Christ, I–. I don't know what to say. I'll submit to any punishment or ramifications you see fit. Fuck." Panting, trying to make sense of his rambling–which, rude, he scrambled your brain with that orgasm, you shouldn't be expected to think right now–you shook your head. "I'm sorry, the only word I'm processing from that is 'submit' and it's not helping the situation any."
Robby dropped his hands, looking over at you in surprise. "Wait, what?! You're not–you're okay with this?" You hummed, stretching, thrilling at the way his eyes tracked the movement. "Dude, we were asleep and dreaming, it was an accident. And I'm pretty sure that you're the only one that didn't know that I've wanted you for, like, years. My only concerns are making sure you don't bolt on me and finding out what your refractory period is so we can do it again. But, you know, naked this time, and with actual penetration." There went that pretty pink flush again, along with a stunned look of wonder. "I could probably–maybe a couple of hours?"
"Excellent. Enough time to get cleaned up and get some post cotial snuggles in." Robby watched you head to the shower, scrambling across the bed at the "You coming?" that drifted out after you.
Warnings: a little fantastical, suspend the disbelief a tad. Nothing crazy. Fluffiness, alcohol consumption
There’s a meteor shower tonight, November 11th, 2022. The girls night was Cassie’s idea. She needed a break, a night to let loose in trusted company. Ladies from the Pitt filed in over the next hour, taking over a larger table off to the side near the pool tables.
Yolanda bought the first round of shots, Slash the second, and st this point you weren’t sure who just paid for the 5th.
At 11, Santos stood up, drink in hand, and drunkenly declared that the meteor shower would be visible at 11:11, on 11/11 and if they all didn’t run outside to see it and make a wish, they all have bad luck. None of you were in a sober enough place to argue…and she just sounded so convincing.
You all made it outside with a couple minutes to spare, everyone happily discussing what they might wish for. Princess starts laughing when she notices you’re the only one standing quiet.
“What about you?” Parker asks you, also intrigued by your silence.
“Oh please…we all know she’s gonna wish for Rob-“ Princess shuts up at the glare you throw her way. All the women were so aware of your desperate crush on the sad boi, big handed, Bambi eyed senior attending. That doesn’t mean you were particularly open to discussing it.
It took you long enough to be able to be around him for long enough in any other situation besides professional, and even then that was a struggle at first.
The way he directed you, taught you, guided you through new procedures and diagnoses: he was hypnotizing and you’ve been starry eyed since day one.
“I’m not wishing for a man….besides, he didn’t see me like that…” you shrug, giving a begging look to princess to just drop it.
“Guys! It’s starting!” Trinity yells, pointing towards the eerily clear Pittsburgh sky.
11:11 pm on 11/11 during the first visible meteor shower in Pittsburgh in over 111 years. You remember your grandma always saying to keep your wishes to yourself, or they would come true.
Maybe you realized it was 11:11 and 11 seconds when you made the wish….maybe you didn’t, but you feel the goosebumps start from your toes and move up your body until you could feel each individual hat follicle on your head. You shivered hard for a couple seconds and tried to shake off the feeling.
The night lasted for another hour and suddenly you were all finding yourself piling into their Ubers to get home safe. Hugs and kisses were exchanged between friends with promises of another girls night sooner rather than later.
You walked into your apartment and looked around in the silence. The depth of your wish sat in the pit of your stomach, making you nauseous.
I wish I was with Robby, married and happy…partners, in love, and life…and just, ya know…I just…wish Robby was my soulmate
You needed to get over this crush. These kind of fruitless wants and desires would end up breaking your heart.
Shaking it off, you turned on a couple low lights, and the moved around your apartment getting ready for bed. After a quick shower, guzzling a warm blue Gatorade, and snacking on a buttered roll, you climbed into bed. You found sleep instantly.
The sun hit your eyes, causing you to stir slowly, letting out an annoyed whimper. You roll over to hide from the offensive sun and roll smack into a wall of soft muscle and body heat. Your eyes shoot open.
Lying in front of you with his back to you, was Michael Robinavitch. How the fuck drunk did you get last night? Wait…Robby wasn’t there last night. How the hell did you end up with Robby?
Sitting up, you quickly survey your surroundings, this isn’t your room….but you’ve been to Robby’s house before for a holiday party. You remember what his bedroom looked like, it’s where the coats were stored. This…this wasn’t his bedroom either.
The walls are a soft dove grey with one darker plum accent wall. Your bed is a king sized sleigh bed, darker cherry wood. The sheets are navy and you can feel the expensive thread count under your fingertips.
You slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Robby and make this situation anymore awkward. It was in this moment you realized you’re naked. You freeze. No way. Wait. Did you and Robby fu- you’d remember that. What the fuck happened last night?!
You frantically open the double doors to the closet in the room and yank the first shirt you see off a hanger and throw it over your head. You grabbed a pair of boxers off the floor and fully covered yourself.
Walking out of the closet, you hear Robby grumble in his sleep as he rolls over, his arm reaching forward into the spot you just occupied. He frowns in his sleep when he realizes it’s empty.
You take a couple minutes to look around trying to get any idea of where you were and how you got here. And that’s when you see it. A picture frame hanging on the wall in the bedroom. A wedding photo. A beautiful wedding photo. Yours and Robby’s wedding photo. And you both looked stunningly in love.
Wait. This is a dream.
The wish, your brain reminds you.
Yeah fucking right, you scoff to yourself.
“Are you gonna get back in bed? Or leave me here to die alone all night?” You hear Robby growl half asleep and eyes still closed.
“Robby…what…where are we?”
His eyes flutter open, already holding confusion. “Our house? Jesus honey…how much did you ladies drink?” He chuckles as he sits up, the blanket falling to his waist revealing his soft hairy tummy. Oh yeah…this definitely is a dream.
“Come back to bed, baby…I missed my wife tonight” he playfully pouts, dropping his head just enough so he can give you his soft puppy eyes.
“Your wife…” you slowly test the words out. Suddenly, you feel the weight of the ring. Holding your left hand up, you gasp at the silver band and gorgeous diamond ring resting on your ring finger.
“Hey….are you ok?” He asks, standing up suddenly concerned. “Did someone maybe put something in your drink? You seem…confused, sweetheart.” He moves over to you in an attempt to assess you without crowding your space.
“You are in our home. I am your husband. We are off tomorrow from work.”
“Work…” you say still standing there stunned.
“The hospital? Ok. I’m calling Jack…something’s off” he says making a move for his phone on the. Nightstand.
“No! No…no…I’m ok I swear I just…guess I had a bad dream” you try to cover. How could you possibly explain to this man that you made a drunken wish on “a star” and it came true?
“Why don’t you lay back down and I’ll go get you some fresh ice water” he walks you over to your side of the bed and helps you lay down slowly, still concerned.
He returns with what you assume is your 40 ounce water cup and places it on the nightstand. He hands you a couple ibuprofen and gives your forehead a soft kiss. “Whatever is going on in that head of yours…we can figure out when we’re more awake later, ok? Eli is having a sleep over at Jack and Samara’s with Daisy, so we can go back to sleep for a little longer”
He lays back in bed with you and gets comfy under the covers. You nod in agreement until what he said catches up to you.
“Wait…who?”
“….Eli…our son? Is at a sleep over at Jack and Samira Abbot’s….with their daughter Daisy- are you sure you’re ok? You’re actually freaking me out a little bit” he sits back up again, the back of his hand going to your forehead.
“Yeah…yes, I’m…I’m fine” you say, slowly moving his hand away from your forehead.
You finally decided in your head that this was 100% a dream. It’s the only thing that truly made sense. So you decided to just, give into it, even just for the moment. This dream felt so real…you could even smell Robby’s skin.
His arms wrapped around you and pulled you close to his chest holding you protectively. “Let’s sleep for a while longer…I think you’re still a little drunk” he chuckles after he’s satisfied you’re not showing any other symptoms of being drugged.
You allow yourself to sink into the mattress and relax in Robby’s arms. Slowly you both fall asleep again. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the disappointment that you’d wake up to your real life was setting in, but sleep took over before you could linger on it.
“Mom!” You hear a little boy yell, ripping you out of your sleep several hours later. Your eyes shoot open, met with the same room you thought you dreamt of.
“Mom?!” You hear again, only closer to your slightly open bedroom door.
“Elijah…buddy, let your mom sleep…she had a long night she deserves her rest” you hear Robby gently chastise him for yelling. “Do me a favor and unload the dishwasher then you can go play your video games”
“Dad! I hate unloading the dishwasher!” He stomps.
“Eli Robinavitch. Dishes now. No arguments.”
You hear the boy sigh and you can only imagine the eye roll that accompanied the rough breath. “Fine” he says with a slight attitude and trudges away.
You’re a wife. A mother. You have a walk in closet. Samira is married to Jack? They have a kid?!
You weren’t entirely sure how to move forward…how to find your footing…do you unwish it? Do you tell Robby? He’d think you were nuts.
You looked at the clock in your nightstand and it read 11:11am….but without the meteor shower, would it even work?
“I wish for things to go back to nor-“ you started to whisper. The bedroom door slowly opened and Robby walked in gently, interrupting your sentence.
“Hey mama…you awake?” He leans over you and kisses your cheek softly. “I’m making breakfast, Eli’s cleaning up the dishes…come downstairs when you’re up, I made coffee”
You smile up at him softly and nod. “I’ll be down soon” you say, trying to get him to leave so you can finish the wish reversal.
He lands another soft kiss on you, this time on your lips, and smiles softly at you “see you down there, baby”
After he leaves, you whip your head back to the clock to focus on the numbers while making your wish, only the clock now read 11:12. The window had passed….
Well, if you had to wait another 12 hours, the least you could do was try and enjoy it…
@marvelcasey05 asked for jack abbot x one bed x new attending!reader (will they/wont they vibes) and since they had two prompts in one ask, i've made a separate post. this is also over 1000 words, oops! just by 700 words
okay, you didn't specify smut but a teeny bit of smut kind of happened…hope no one minds 🤭😈
"Oh you have to be joking." You were going to figure out whoever was in charge of booking the hotel rooms for the PTMC doctors at this event and strangle them. You and Jack stood a few steps inside your shared hotel room, staring at the single queen sized bed. Jack sighed heavily next to you, clearly as exasperated about this situation as you.
Wow, you were agreeing on something for once.
While you appreciated Dr. Abbot's experience and occasionally his input on a case in the ED, you didn't enjoy his cowboy attitude to practicing medicine. Sure, the system was broken and we had to bend the rules sometimes to provide good patient care. However Jack Abbot bent the rules with the caviler attitude of an older white man who knew that the consequences wouldn't affect him too much, if he cared about consequences at all.
Thankfully Jack was a man and doctor with a good moral compass, and you had seen him use his privilege to take the fall or protect his residents. It was just that sometimes working with him rose your blood pressure and your anxiety.
"What side do you want?" Jack asked as he dumped his bag on the end of the bed. You wanted to argue that you would not be sleeping in a bed next to him, however your plane had been delayed and it was currently 11pm and the conference started bright and early at 8am tomorrow. You really didn't want to waste your limited energy talking to some poor hotel concierge about finding another room.
It was one night. You could handle one night.
"I think the better question is what side you want." You countered, gesturing lamely at Jack's artificial leg. Jack's chin tipped up, almost in surprise.
"The side closest to the door. Thanks." He nodded at you, his voice appreciative.
"No worries, the last thing I need is you falling down in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom old man." You volleyed back and Jack scoffed with an eye roll. You wheeled your suitcase over to your side of the bed and dumped it on the floor under the window.
"I was going to shower, do you need the bathroom?" He said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.
"Just to brush my teeth real quick. I'm about to fall asleep standing up." You collected your toiletries and pajamas and brushed past him to the bathroom.
You moved as quickly as your tired limbs would allow, changing into your sleep shorts and oversized university alumni t-shirt. You had to hold onto the bathroom counter as you brushed your teeth, the exhaustion of the day trying hard to drag your eyelids closed. You finished fairly quickly and exited the bathroom to collide with Jack's solid chest.
God he was broad.
"Woah," Jack caught you as you stumbled backwards on uncoordinated feet, his arm looping quickly around your waist to pull you against him, saving you from falling on your ass. You steadied yourself by holding his shoulders, your arms trapped between the two of you. "You weren't kidding about falling asleep standing up." Jack joked.
You blinked heavily, shaking your head a bit to clear the brain fog that you were choosing to blame on your exhaustion rather than the feeling of Jack's strong arm and his fast reflexes. His eyebrows furrowed.
"Are you gonna be able to make it to the bed okay?" He shifted his hands to your waist so he could separate the two of you and get a better look at you. He gave you an analytical, professional once over.
"I'm fine. Thanks for the catch." You said in mild annoyance - and concealed embarrassment - and took a step away from him. You watched his eyes flicker down to your legs quickly before moving back to your eyes and raising his eyebrows at you. You looked down at yourself to see that the length of your t-shirt hid your sleep shorts.
"I swear I'm wearing pants." You said defensively. Jack shrugged and moved past you towards the bathroom.
"It would only be fair if you weren't, considering I didn't bring a shirt to wear." You heart dropped.
"You're joking."
"Nope, sleep shirt takes up unnecessary space in my bag." He explained over his shoulder as he swung the bathroom door closed. You scoffed in disbelief and climbed into bed before you collapsed, turning off the overhead lights, but leaving the side table lamps on.
The click of the bathroom door roused you from your sleep and you opened your eyes to see a very shirtless Jack Abbot exit the bathroom, surrounded by clouds of steam. If you weren't so distracted by the glorious sight in front of you, you would have rolled your eyes, it was like the start of a bad porno.
Jack switched off the bathroom light and walked to the bed with the help of a foldable, portable cane, his prosthetic leg in his other hand. You noted how he'd tied the one leg of his sweatpants into a knot just under site of his amputation.
You closed your eyes so he wouldn't notice you were still awake and ogling him. The mattress dipped as he sat down and you quickly felt the heat of his body as he laid down next to you. You could smell the hotel body wash that clung to his skin, the eucalyptus scent lulling you back into sleep.
You woke up tangled in Jack Abbot.
You were facing each other, your face pressed against his neck and his cheek resting on your head. Your arms were wrapped around each other, your shirt had ridden up overnight and Jack's hand was resting on your bare back. To your horror you had a leg over Jack's hip and his thigh was slotted between your legs, pressing right up against your core. Even more horrifying, you could feel Jack's morning wood against your stomach.
You had to extract yourself before he woke up.
As you tried to move you realized the mortifying wet feeling between your legs which didn't improve when Jack shifted in his sleep and unknowingly rubbed his thigh against your aching core. You gasped against his neck and Jack startled awake, his hand on your back pushing you against him reflexively, directly against his hard length. The fog of sleep disappeared from Jack's head quickly and as you both tried to pull apart at the same time, you somehow ended up with Jack on top of you.
You weren't sure what happened. Whether you had rolled your hips against him or if he'd ground his clothed length against you or if you'd grabbed his biceps to pull him closer or if he'd leaned in, but suddenly the two of you were grinding your hips in tandem as you gasped and moaned.
Jack rolled his hips, thrusting his clothed cock against your clothed center as the material of your sleep shorts dampened more with every push of his hips. You moaned his name, your hands reaching down his body to grab and squeeze his ass, pulling and encouraging him to thrust harder, to give you more. Jack's hand grabbed under your thigh and lifted it up over his hip to open you up more to him, your other leg following suit.
You both moaned and whimpered and groaned as the rubbing and thrusting and humping built the pressure more, more, more-
until you were both gasping each others names as you came.
Your chests heaved as you came down from your high and when the haze of want and desire faded you both stared at each other in shock, realizing what you just did. Jack pulled back and you took the opportunity to slip out from under him and bolt to the sanctuary of the bathroom.
You and Jack avoided each other the rest of the day. Or rather you avoided him. You weren't sure what happened that morning but it made your heart flutter to think about and you didn't want to examine what that was about. Your plan worked until the end of the day when you were in the elevator and everyone eventually exited onto their respective floors until it was just you and Jack.
He was behind you, you could feel him watching you. You pointedly kept your eyes on the screen that displayed the floor numbers that counted up towards your floor. You didn't hear Jack but you felt him when he stepped up behind you, the heat of him obvious even through your clothes. Your heart raced as your breathing quickened slightly. You gasped when his fingers brushed the back of your neck, your eyes closing as you leaned back unconsciously, your shoulder blades brushing his chest.
Desire flamed in your chest and your abdomen and you bit your bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet. His breath ghosted across your ear and you felt your knees shake.
The elevator dinged when it reached your floor, your eyes flying open as reality crashed back into you. You practically ran out of the elevator, rushing to your shared room and realizing stupidly that there was nowhere to run to. Jack caught up to you easily as you entered the room and pushed you back up against the wall.
"Why are you running honey?" He asked, his hot hands settling on your hips. You swallowed thickly as the door clicked shut, enclosing you both in the hotel room.
"I shouldn't like you like this." You said, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you watched his eyes drop to your lips.
"Like what?" Jack prompted, his voice rough. You licked your lips nervously and Jack groaned low in his throat. The desire was plain on his face and having his full attention on you had your cheeks heating. No one had ever looked at you like this, with so much want and passion.
"Nothing to say honey?" Jack teased, pressing himself against you. God he was so infuriating sometimes. But maybe your wires had been crossed this whole time and you'd been subconsciously covering up your attraction to him with snide remarks and irritated eye rolls.
"I shouldn't want you like this." You whispered as you took his face in your hands.
"Why not?"
"We're opposites. We work together." You explained like that was reason enough.
"You need to loosen up." Jack murmured, his eyes trained on your lips.
"And you need to learn to rein it in." You said in retort, your hands pulling his face closer. Jack's mouth ticked up in a smirk.
"Brat."
"Cowboy."
"You love it." God this cocky man was going to be the death of you.
"Shut up." You sighed in frustration, finally pulling the annoying Dr. Jack Abbot into a searing kiss.
Anyone else fuck with individual songs? Who is the artist? I dunno. What album is it from? Shut up. What year was it released? *tim allen grunt* What's the title of the track? Fuck you. But it goes like this: *poorly memorized chorus*
I love that song. Do not ask me anything about it.
Jack definitelyyyy experiences cuteness aggression with reader. That flash—urge to squeeze, to bite down, to hold her until the sound of her laugh is his alone. He almost slips up when he’s joking about your behavior with Dana and calls you crushable. Yeah. Cute. Like when you wanna squeeze a puppy till it squeaks, that kind of thing. It’s not his fault you’re infuriatingly adorable. Fuck off.
masterlist // part 1 // part 2
⚠ warnings: explicit language, angst, canon disability/amputation, medical inaccuracies despite my best intentions, canon-typical injuries
A/N: Alright, I couldn't help myself. My first fic for Jack Abbot. And I made another OC just for him. I'm so nervous about this one, but I had to start getting this out before I can even think about going back to my other wips. Eep. Seriously, in my feels with this.
. . .
THURSDAY 7:00 AM
“The hell are you still doing here?”
Robby’s voice cuts through Jack’s brain, forcing him to blink quickly and draw his attention from the computer screen to his best friend.
He shakes his head. “Just finishing up some charts before I head out. Can’t leave a mess for you, yeah?”
It’s not a total lie. He really does have a few more notes to type up before he calls it a day—er, night.
But there’s something deep in Jack’s gut holding him in place, telling him to stay just a little bit longer.
His shift was fine — at least, no one died this time. How he and his overnight team managed that, he’ll never know. Just take the win, he reminds himself.
Robby smiles and points at the board. “Brother, you always leave me a mess.”
A smirk tugs at Jack’s lips as he looks up at the long list of patients. “It’s reciprocal. Cyclical.”
“It’s the Pitt,” Robby adds matter-of-factly.
Jack directs his eyes back to his computer. “Well, I’ll be out of your hair here shortly.”
“Take your time,” Robby assures, patting his shoulder as he walks away.
Jack types up a few more notes, then logs out of the system. But he just sits there, studying the login screen like it might tell him why he’s hesitating.
He finally lets his shoulders drop, exhaling slowly as he hears Robby debrief the day-shift team. It’s the same regurgitation of both useless administrative requests from the higher-ups and gentle reminders that this work is essential, that they’re all making a difference. The same speech that Jack gives his crew, only his is a little less sugar-coated, as he doesn’t have the eyes and ears of Gloria lurking around after hours. Well, usually.
The chaos of night morphs into the rush of day as the doctors disperse. A handful of them hang back by the ambulance bay, awaiting an incoming MVC patient per Dana’s alert. Serious, but not critical.
Jack leans back in his chair and rubs his hands over his face, trying to ignore the slew of info from EMS as they bring in the victim. “38-year-old female, restrained driver, T-boned on driver’s side by a red-light runner. No LOC, but complaining of headache and left wrist pain. No vomiting. Vitals stable en route. GCS 15…” Robby directs Collins and Mel to the case as they move into Trauma 1.
Another slow exhale pushes from his chest, and Jack finally reaches for his backpack, which he had already grabbed earlier. That same Army-issued backpack that’s been to hell and back for close to two decades. Filled with battlefield-ready supplies just in case…and the memory of that one terrible night a few months ago when he had to use them.
He stands up, favoring his right leg a little as the prosthetic rubs just right. That distant ache, tugging through his knee and up into his hip, tells him: Go home, dumbass.
But as he walks by Trauma 1, he can’t help glancing through the windows, a strange magnetic curiosity drawing his tired eyes to see what’s happening. And he stops when he sees her.
His grip on his backpack loosens, the strap slipping just far enough to feel like gravity’s failing him. Something in his brain rewires itself haphazardly as he processes what’s right in front of him after all this time.
Chelsea Cooper.
The one and only real friend he had when he finished undergrad at Ohio State and started med school. Someone who kept him tethered to reality when nothing else made sense. Someone he had always hoped he’d find in another life.
He sets his bag down by Dana’s desk, oblivious to the charge nurse’s questioning gaze. All he can do is slowly, hesitantly step into Trauma 1.
He hangs back, though, hovering by the door and checks the monitor to ground himself…make sure he’s not dreaming.
Chelsea’s sitting upright as Perlah helps adjust her on the gurney, while Collins and King continue with routine questions.
Strands of her mocha brown hair had pulled loose from her ponytail, framing her face. A line of dried blood trails down from the cut above her left brow. Her left wrist is cradled against her ribs, and bruises are already blooming along her collarbone where the seatbelt had done its job.
“BP 124/78. Pulse 90. Ox sat 99%. Resps 16…” Perlah informs the team.
Collins shines a flashlight over Chelsea’s eyes. “Pupils equal and reactive. Any dizziness or confusion?”
Chelsea blinks, and her eyes land on Jack.
His stomach drops from those eyes—wide, hazel-green, rimmed with lashes too long to forget.
Her laugh is shaky, unconvinced she didn’t hit her head harder in the crash. “Maybe…no, not really.”
Collins glances over at Jack with a small smile, already picking up on the strange cosmic connection between her patient and the veteran physician. She moves back to her exam and injury assessment, studying the cut above Chelsea’s eyebrow.
“Any chest pain? Trouble breathing?”
“No,” she shakes her head carefully and gestures to her collarbone. “Just sore from the seatbelt.”
Mel checks Chelsea’s left wrist, softly apologizing when she grimaces from the pain. “Scale of 0 to 10, how would you rate the pain here?”
“Probably 6? My pain tolerance is pretty high, though,” Chelsea admits, though her smile wavers.
Jack knows that look. He’d seen it before…behind that teetering tower of books carried in her arms when her right ankle rolled on the back stairwell of the campus medical library.
She didn’t drop a single book. He held his hand out without thinking twice. “I’m fine,” she breathed, her knuckles white around the stack she still held somehow. Pride, stubbornness, that familiar spark flared as she lifted her chin. “These need to go to the holds desk.”
“Then let me help.” Jack slid the top two-thirds of the stack out of her arms before she could object. “And then we should ice that ankle.”
“Jack,” she said, his name sounded like a warning and a thank-you tangled together.
He set the journals on the counter as Chelsea keyed them in, her good foot planted and the other barely grazing the floor. And despite only being pre-med, Jack’s doctor instincts kept kicking in. “Pain scale 0 to 10?” he asked as he leaned his elbows on the counter.
She refused to look at him. “2.”
“Mm,” he pressed his lips together, unconvinced. “And you’re standing like a flamingo because…?”
“I’m fine,” she argued again, quickly tapping the keyboard. “Just…let me finish checking these in.”
Jack couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face as he shook his head. Only then did she look at him, annoyed and hiding her pain. “What?”
“Sports medicine major, and you’re too stubborn to take care of your own injury.” He ignored the huff in her voice as he stepped around the counter like it was no big deal.
“Jack—”
But he was already behind the desk and tapped the low stool for her to sit. She hesitated, then eased down while Jack knelt on his good knee. He pulled an ace bandage from his bag, that same Army-issued camo backpack he just can’t let go.
A chuckle fell from Chelsea’s mouth. “You always this prepared?”
“What can I say? Being a combat medic ruined me.” The phrase weighed a little heavier in the air between them, especially when Jack’s prosthetic shifted awkwardly as he angled her foot to rest on his thigh. He shrugged, forced his focus to unlace her sneaker carefully.
She watched his hands, the steadiness of the small, precise movements as he wrapped the elastic fabric around bone and skin. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He glanced up then, and found that stubborn light still in her eyes, but edged with gratitude…and something he didn’t want to name.
They stayed quiet as he secured the wrap with metal clips. “Wiggle your toes,” he offered gently.
She did. “Thanks, Dr. Abbot,” she teased kindly.
Jack’s cheeks flushed pink. “Not a doctor yet.”
“Don’t argue with your patient.”
“You’re not my patient,” he argued before he could stop himself.
Her smile tilted in that way that lodged its way into his heart. “What am I, then?”
He didn’t have an answer that wasn’t complicated. And then a student mercifully set some books on the desk to check out, folding the moment in on itself and tucked away deep in Jack’s chest.
Chelsea answers more questions from the residents, but she keeps glancing back at Jack. Still, he can’t say anything, can’t intervene, can’t get his voice to work…can’t believe she’s here.
Collins takes a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do CT head, chest, and wrist X-ray. Basic labs, CBC, CMP, coags…”
Mel looks up, already splinting Chelsea’s wrist to keep it immobilized. “Vitals stable. Overnight obs for concussion symptoms?”
“Yes. We’ll reassess neuro status later,” Collins adds as she types everything up on the computer. “Chelsea, I don’t think that cut above your eye will need stitches, but we’ll definitely close it up with glue or steri-strips.”
Chelsea nods, understanding, and then narrows her eyes back to Jack as he works his jaw. “You sure this isn’t a dream?”
“Not a dream, Chels,” he murmurs, though it sure as hell feels like one.
Collins raises her eyebrows, gesturing between them. “You two know each other?”
The air shifts when Jack and Chelsea lock their eyes on each other again…like they’re both seeing ghosts.
“You’ll admit her?” Jack asks, seemingly oblivious to the confirmation earlier.
“Overnight observation…yeah,” Collins sighs, disappointed, though not surprised by his avoidance.
Jack nods again, slower, his gaze lingering a beat longer before he steps back. “Page me if anything changes.”
Collins looks at Robby, silently prompting him to intervene. Robby immediately moves to follow him, quietly clocking the weight in the air. “You okay?”
But Jack holds his hand out, slowly stepping backward with one arm still crossed over his chest. “Just…let me know if anything changes.”
The blood rushes into his brain as he grabs his backpack, Dana’s voice muffled as she tries to stop him. And he just keeps walking.
He keeps walking until he realizes he’s in the middle of the park across the street, everything coming back into focus just enough for him to inhale the morning sun. He closes his eyes and breathes her name.
Why her? Why now?
Maybe the daylight knows something he doesn’t yet…
Fleshing out The Pitt Ideas: Death gives Jack/Robby a second chance AU.
Robby (or Jack but I have a feeling I'm going to make it Robby) dies after having a massive fight with Jack. Death is a sucker for true love and gives him a second chance at life, he can drop Robby back in time in his younger body (I haven't decided on age yet) and he gets a chance at life again, a chance at Jack if he chooses to take it. Cue Robby deciding that he'll take it but he won't stop at fixing his relationship with Jack, he's going to be better in general. Meanwhile Death watches from the sidelines with popcorn waiting for the two idiots to get together.
