Infected
Pairing: Jack Abbot x You
Summary: You’re working a case with Jack Abbot, when you notice that your patient is showing symptoms of a deadly disease. You and Abbot are both exposed to the virus, and continue to work anyway, regardless of the danger.
After stabilizing your patient, the two of you have to decontaminate and isolate yourselves. The real trouble starts when you begin to show symptoms.
Luckily, Jack Abbot is there for you.
Word Count: 7553
Warnings: angst, medical anxiety, comfort, past medical trauma.
Note: My reader is named Reid so that’s why she's named here! She also has a compromised immune system. Happy reading :)
It was only a few hours into your shift when you made your way over to Dana for a new patient.
You didn’t even get time to ask the petite blonde, when you heard a female voice yell out.
“We need some help over here!” At the panic in that voice, you sprinted over, complete instinct at this point.
The yelling was coming from trauma four, and you quickly pushed your way into the room.
“What’s going on?” You snapped on a pair of gloves, taking in Perlah as she struggled to hold a young man down.
“Twenty year old male. High fever. Vomiting. Possible gastro.” She told you.
“Vitals?” You asked, moving into step beside the bed.
“Temp is one oh three, heart rate is one twenty and his BP is stable for now. He’s been vomiting for hours. Says he feels like shit.” Perlah deadpanned as she rattled off.
“Like fried shit.” The man groaned weakly.
“That’s a very…nice description. Very helpful. But don’t worry, we’re going to take a look at you.” You moved closer to the man, your gloved hands probing.
“And by ‘we’, she means her and I.” A familiar voice cut in.
You felt the air in the room change as he entered, snapping on a pair of gloves.
He made his way over to the other side of the bed, now directly opposite you. He didn’t even appear tired, like he hadn’t just worked an entire twelve hour shift.
“Doctor Abbot. I wasn’t expecting you to join us. Isn’t your shift finished?” You asked lightly.
“I’ve still got another few minutes. I’d hate to miss all the fun going on in here.” He grinned.
“Fun? Oh yeah, this case is fun alright. The patient described feeling like quote ‘boiled shit’ and he’s been vomiting for hours.” You recounted sarcastically.
“That does sound like fun.” Abbot quipped before turning his attention to the patient.
“Tell me what’s going on.” He ordered.
“I feel like I’m dying. My head’s killing me and I can’t stop throwing up.” The patient squeezed his eyes shut in apparent pain.
“Any abdominal pain?” You asked, gently palpating his stomach.
“A little bit.”
“Diarrhoea?” You asked.
He paused. “Yeah.”
“Alright. Sounds like a fun night.” Abbot nodded to himself. Then under his breath, he muttered, “Probably still better than your night, Doctor Reid.”
You shot him a look.
He ignored it, a stupid grin on his face.
You tried to hide your own smile and the way your heart pounded when your attending looked at you like that. You knew it was wrong, you knew you shouldn’t want him, but you couldn’t help it. This crush you had on the man was getting embarrassing. Three months, and your stomach still fluttered when he was near.
“Probably gastro. We should get some fluids going though, some antiemetics.” You told him.
“Yeah, I think so too.” Abbot agreed.
But something didn’t quite feel right with your assessments. Like you were missing something. You had that familiar sinking in your gut that always told you there was something more to the story.
“Can you sit up for me?” You asked the patient.
The man groaned, trying his best to sit up, his arms shaking with the effort.
“Ouch. My neck.” He froze, wincing.
“Your- your neck?” You repeated, a sinking feeling in your gut.
“Yeah- it just- it hurts.” He reached back to touch his neck.
You glanced at Abbot, to find he was already watching you. Concern lit his features.
“What kind of pain?” You asked warily.
“Stiff. It’s just like I slept wrong or something.” The man answered.
Alarm bells went off in your head.
“Can you tilt your head forward for me?”
He tried, you could tell he tried, but his head barely moved. “I can’t.” He hissed.
“Okay. That’s okay.” You reassured him as your own heart began to pound.
“The lights are kind of killing me too. Can you-” he barely even got the words out before Abbot switched the overhead lights off.
Your mind whirled with the possibilities, a terrifying game your mind played as you couldn’t stop thinking about worst case scenarios.
Fever, headache, vomiting, neck stiffness, aversion to lights.
You felt the symptoms clicking into place, the knowledge cold and terrifying.
But you didn’t voice your fears. Not yet.
You looked up at Abbot, both of you way too close to the patient. Exposed.
“You’re thinking something.” Abbot murmured quietly, his eyes uncharacteristically serious.
You hesitated. “Maybe this isn’t gastro.”
“I agree.” His words sunk like a rock in your gut.
The patient shifted again, his breathing quicker. “I feel kinda weird.”
“Weird how?” You stepped even closer to him, knowing you shouldn’t.
“Just…dizzy. And my head hurts.”
You reached for his wrist, checking his pulse yourself. It was too fast.
“Let’s get some blood work done. Full panel and- and cultures.” You ordered.
Abbot nodded. “Good call.”
“Let’s also get IV fluids running now. And antiemetics before he dehydrates.” Abbot added.
Perlah moved quickly, setting everything up. You quickly made to grab the syringe, but Abbot stopped you with a hand.
“I’ll do it. You just…step back.” His words were low enough that they were just for you.
“Jack…”
“Let me do this. As your attending physician, I’m ordering you to step back and let me do this.” His words were deadly serious.
He knew about your compromised immune system. It had been in your residency application. And it wasn’t exactly something you could hide from him.
You nodded, stepping back and allowing him to get closer to the man, drawing his blood.
“His temp is climbing,” you warned quietly.
Abbot finally finished drawing his blood, and you breathed a small sigh of relief as he stepped away.
The man winced, trying to sit up, and you couldn’t not help him, so you moved back to his bedside, helping him sit up.
“Reid.” Abbot’s voice was low and controlled in warning.
You looked down at the man’s arm you held in a gloved hand.
That’s when you saw it.
A spattering of small, dark red spots along his upper arm. It was hidden by the bed before, but there was no mistaking it now.
“Doctor Abbot.” You glanced at him, trying your best to not look like you were freaking out.
The patient shifted, unsettled by your strange tones and hushed voices.
“What? What’s going on? What is it?” He asked.
You didn’t answer him. You didn’t think you could. Because now your head was loud. Loud with one of the scariest possibilities it could conjure.
Fever, headache, neck stiffness, aversion to light, rash.
You felt the symptoms click into place, like terrible puzzle pieces that once they were put together, it revealed the worst case scenario.
“Meningococcal.” You murmured under your breath.
Abbot’s eyes snapped to yours.
Your heart stuttered in your chest at the slight dip of his chin.
“Alright. This is more than just gastro. Reid, step back now.” Abbot’s voice took on that familiar commanding tone.
This was attending Doctor Abbot. Not the flirty man that handed you a morning coffee with a grin. Not the man who had winked at you yesterday.
Your immune system-
Your own breathing quickened.
“What’s the protocol, Doctor Abbot?” Perlah asked, her words strong and unafraid. You didn’t know how she did it.
“Isolation. And everyone in this room needs to mask up. Right now.” Abbot’s tone was harsh, and you felt dizzy.
It was too late.
You were already here.
Already too close.
Already exposed.
From somewhere far away, you could have sworn you heard someone calling your name. But it felt like you were underwater.
You only snapped out of it when a warm hand landed on your shoulder, your first name murmured in your ear.
You turned, meeting his eyes.
“Put this on.” He whispered, handing you a mask.
Your fingers were frozen and you couldn’t take the mask he extended. You could barely breathe, barely move, that familiar feeling of panic washing over you.
His assessing eyes watched you for a moment. You couldn’t even blink.
He seemed to realise you were frozen, because his hands slowly came up to your face, gently tucking your hair behind your ears, and placing the mask on for you. His fingers were warm and gentle as they brushed your cheeks, your ears.
You only realised then that you’d been holding your breath, and as soon as he adjusted the fabric around your nose, you exhaled a shaky breath, blinking at him.
“Better?” He murmured, low enough for only you.
You nodded shakily, and he took that as his cue to put his own mask on.
Something about the sight hit you square in the chest.
He’d put your mask on first.
He’d made sure you were covered before he put his own on.
You were going to be sick.
“Let’s start broad spectrum antibiotics.” Abbot ordered in that no nonsense tone.
“Got it.” Perlah replied.
The patient groaned again. “Am I going to be okay?”
His wide, terrified eyes turned to you, and you forced yourself to speak.
“We’re going to do everything we can.” You normally would have touched his hand to comfort him, but you fought the urge now.
The man nodded. “Okay.” But your words hadn’t seemed to comfort him.
Perlah locked the door.
No one would be able to come in or out. You were trapped. Isolated.
You forced yourself to breathe, forcing your brain to calm, slowly clenching and unclenching your fingers.
You looked back at Abbot, and moved closer to him, until you were standing less than a foot apart.
You lowered your voice so the patient wouldn’t be able to hear you. “We’ve been in close contact.” The realization settled heavy in your chest.
“You know I had fifteen minutes left of my shift?” He said with a sigh.
Your gaze didn’t waver from him.
“What are we going to do?” You whispered.
“We finish what we started, that’s what we do.” He glanced back at the man.
His confidence seemed to settle something in you, and against your better judgement, you nodded.
Because you knew you’d do anything this man asked of you. Follow him anywhere.
Even if it ended with you contracting a deadly disease.
———-
The way that the door had locked felt louder than it should have in the small room. It almost felt like a death knell. Like it was one of the final sounds you’d ever hear.
You just stood there for a second, breathing in deeply through your mask, fighting the wave of dizziness that threatened to buckle your knees. You stared at the door, willing it to unlock, willing fresh air in, willing for none of this to be real.
But it was real.
Everything was real. You were trapped in this room, with Abbot, and with an infected patient. You’d been exposed.
You curled your fingers into fists, your nails digging into your skin through your gloves in an attempt to ground yourself. You needed to focus.
“Reid.” His voice interrupted the white noise playing on a loop in your head.
You turned to him, instinctively moving towards his voice.
His assessing gaze moved over your face, like he was taking in every blink and twitch, trying to find the emotions beneath.
“I’m fine.” You said quickly.
“That’s good to know, but I didn’t ask. Kinda makes me think you’re not.” His lips twitched.
Right. He hadn’t asked. It had just been a reflex to say you were fine. Call it a trauma response.
Your gaze flicked back to the man in bed, his groaning low and worrisome. He shifted restlessly, and with the movements, you noticed that his red spots appeared even darker now, like they were angry. You also noticed the way the rash had spread down his forearm now, as if it was no longer content to hide in his bicep. It was spreading.
Your stomach churned.
Meningococcal.
You could be dead in a matter of hours.
The facts swirled in your head, causing you to panic, and your heart to beat faster.
Hearing loss.
Long term disabilities.
Brain damage.
Death.
They were only a few of the outcomes that your brain assaulted you with.
And with your weakened immune system-
You were going to be sick.
Abbot placed a hand on your shoulder, drawing your eyes back to his.
“You should step out.” He murmured, low enough for only you to hear.
“I’m not stepping out.” You couldn’t. You were a doctor. It was part of your oath. Besides, it wouldn’t do much. You were already exposed. Stepping out now wouldn’t change that. You had a patient to look after. And it didn't look like he was stepping out any time soon.
“You should.” He told you, command lacing his tone.
“So should you.” You shot back.
“I’m the attending.”
“And I’m the resident. See, I can name my job too.” If you were being snippy, maybe it would take your mind off your panic.
His jaw tightened, and you could have sworn you saw a sliver of concern in his expression.
“You have already had close exposure. You should step out. Minimise further risk.” His voice was calm and even.
“That’s not how this works, and you know it.” You stood your ground.
His gaze was unflinching.
“It is when the risk isn’t equal.”
There it was.
Your stomach dropped.
His words did something to your chest.
You just hated that he’d seen straight through you.
“I can do my job.” Your words were firm.
“You can do your job from the other side of the door. Or in another room. Hell, I’ll even FaceTime you.” He tried to keep his voice low, but he was failing.
“And leave you in here? With Perlah?” You snapped. You weren't going to leave him here. Not where he could get infected. You just- you couldn’t fathom leaving him.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m not your problem.” He ground out.
“Of course I’m going to worry about you! I- You’re my- my friend!” Your tone was low and serious. You stumbled over the word friend, desperately wishing to be more.
“I’m also in charge here. I’m in charge of your safety, and my patients. If I say you should leave-”
“I’m not leaving.” You cut him off.
Something flickered in his eyes.
“You don’t get extra credit for being reckless and playing the hero.”
“Really? You’re going to talk to me about being reckless and playing the hero?” You snarked.
He just gave you a blank look.
“You don’t get to tell me to leave my patient because you decided that I’m too fragile to handle this.” You said, no sarcasm in your tone now.
“I didn’t say you were fragile.” He had stilled at your words.
“You don’t have to. I can see it in your eyes.” You sighed.
That’s the one thing Abbot had never seen you as. Weak. Fragile. He hadn’t looked at you with pity or sympathy. And he wasn’t looking at you like that now, but he was looking at you like…like he was scared.
But that couldn’t be right. Jack Abbot didn’t get scared. You didn’t think it was possible. It wasn’t in his DNA.
Jack opened his mouth to respond, but the patient let out a loud groan, more pained than his earlier ones.
You both moved at the same time, making your way over to his bedside. You were on his right side, Abbot on his left. Too close. You were both too close.
You helped him sit more comfortably, your hands tingling everywhere you touched him. You mind kept replaying the same thought over and over again.
You’re exposed.
Jack’s exposed.
You were both exposed.
“Vitals?” You asked, trying to distract yourself.
“Heart rate is rising, we’re at one thirty. Temperature is still increasing.”
“We’ve got the antibiotics going.” Perlah added from her spot at his IV.
“Good. That’s good.” You nodded.
Perlah and the IV were closer to you than Abbot, the machine on your side.
“Reid, can you monitor the IV for a second? I gotta call Dana. Then she’s gotta report this.” Perlah asked, already moving to the room's phone.
“Sure.” You nodded, making your way closer to the man’s head.
“I’ll do it.” Abbot quickly rounded to your side of the bed, pushing in front of you so that he was closer to the man’s head and the IV. The movement was purposeful and protective, and you stumbled back a step as he just so casually put himself in between you and the man.
“Jack-”
“Don’t.” He threw over his shoulder at you.
“Don’t what?” You frowned.
“Don’t stop me from doing this for you. Protecting you.” His words were firm.
“Wasn’t going to.” You snapped.
“No, but you were going to try, and that’s enough.”
You sighed, ignoring the way your chest tightened at just how…protective he was. Over you. It wasn’t like he was doing the same for Perlah. Why?
“Perlah asked me to do that.” You countered.
“I don’t care.” He said simply, taking over.
“You’re being ridiculous.” You snapped at him, but you felt the pure relief in your chest at being further from the patient's face.
“I’ve dealt with worse.” He shrugged.
Your stomach dropped at the thought of what he might have dealt with in the past to make him this…unflinching and brave in the face of such undeniable danger.
“But-” you began.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Reid. I just need you to know that you can step back anytime. No questions asked. Understood?” He cut you off, not in an arrogant way, but in a way that told you he understood. That he was giving you the choice.
You swallowed, too many emotions hitting you at once. You were silent.
He bent his neck, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There’s no judgement here, Reid. I need you to know there's no shame in needing a moment. There’s also no shame in needing to step back. Whatever you need, I will respect. Although I wouldn’t hate to have you by my side for this.” He said, still keeping his stare on you.
You nodded, forcing yourself to meet his intense stare. “I understand.”
His gaze flicked between your eyes, as if he was trying to read your thoughts.
“Does that mean you want to stay?” He asks softly.
You took a moment to ponder his proposition. The smart choice was to move to the corner of the room and pray you hadn’t been infected. That was what your head told you to do. The very stupid choice was to continue to work on your patient, knowing full well he was infected with a deadly disease, regardless of your own safety. That was what your heart told you to do. Because you were a doctor. You were a helper. A healer. That was who you were.
It always came down to this, didn’t it? You didn’t know whether to listen to your head or your heart.
But you weren’t feeling particularly smart at the current moment. And your heart was beating a little too fast, your brain unable to keep up with the way he was looking at you, his voice low and smooth.
“What will it be, Doctor Reid?” He murmured, a small grin on his lips, as if he already knew what you had chosen to do. Your heart.
You gave him a pointed look. “Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?”
His half grin turned into a full grin.
“That’s my girl.”
His low murmur did funny things to your belly.
You beamed at his quiet praise, but tried to tamper down your smile, remembering where you were.
“But I want you to stay behind me.” He added.
You opened your mouth to object, but he cut you off.
“You will also limit contact. You may not be fragile, but your immune system might be.”
You frowned at him. “Is that it? Any more rules, Sergeant? Or am I allowed to do my job now?”
“I’m actually a Lieutenant.” He grinned. “And two more rules. One, you don’t, under any circumstances, play the hero. If anyone’s gonna be the hero here, I want the credit.” He continued.
A beat of silence passed, and you nodded. You could do that.
“And? What’s the second rule?” You huffed, realising he was making you work for it.
His voice dropped, no longer teasing and now deadly serious, “You tell me the second you feel anything remotely related to a symptom. I don’t care if you stand up too fast and feel dizzy. You tell me. Okay?”
“I’m kind of hungry. Is that a symptom?” You asked sarcastically. God, he was being way too pushy, way too intrusive. Way too…protective. It was intense. You didn’t know how to feel.
“I don’t think so, but I appreciate the update all the same.” He replied.
“Happy to oblige, Doctor Abbot.”
“I’m serious, Reid. You feel slightly lightheaded, or even a tiny bit tired or nauseous, you tell me, okay? You tell me even if your damn pinky toe cramps. Anything you feel, you tell me.” He again dropped his head to meet your eyes, his forehead almost against yours. He was looking for a serious answer from you.
You thought it over for a moment. God, he was being so overbearing.
“I can do that.” You nodded, chewing your bottom lip.
“Good girl.”
And that was when your heart stuttered in your chest, your breath catching in your throat.
You were glad that there was a mask covering your face, because your mouth popped open.
You thought you would be there all day, jaw agape, when Perlah interrupted you, phone still to her ear.
“Infectious disease specialists will be here soon. CDCs been notified.” She informed you.
“Good. Let’s get back to the reason why we’re all here, shall we?” Abbot turned back to the man, but you stopped him with a hand on his arm.
He turned back around, raising an eyebrow.
“What about you?” You asked.
“What about me?” He seemed dumbfounded.
“What about how you feel? Who are you going to report your possible symptoms to?” You still held his arm in your grip, and he didn’t shake you off, so you held strong. Sure, you were probably crossing some sort of boundary, but to hell with HR and workplace violations. You could be dead by the end of shift today for all you knew. All because you’d walked into this room.
Maybe you should make the most of it.
“Perlah’s got my back. Don’t you, Perlah?” He threw the nurse a crooked smile.
She only waved him off with an annoyed hand, telling him to be quiet when she was on the phone.
You gave him a snarky look. As if to say, ‘really?’
“I’m a big boy, Reid. I can take care of myself.”
“If you say so.” You replied disbelievingly.
“You’re gonna look out for me, aren’t you?” He sighed, as if the thought of you using energy to watch him for symptoms deeply annoyed him.
“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’, prompting another sigh from him.
The man in the bed cried out, and you dropped your hand from Abbot’s arm. The movement, or lack of touch, seemed to snap him back into focus.
“Okay. We watch for sepsis, we keep fluids up, and we monitor for neurological decline.” Abbot’s voice was louder now. More commanding.
At that tone, you adjusted your gloves, rolling your shoulders back.
You forced your mind not to fixate on the fear. On the fact that your own body might betray you. Or the fact that you were stuck in a small enclosed room with a disease that could prove fatal to you in a matter of hours.
No. You had to focus on the one thing you could control. Your patient. Saving him.
And on keeping an eye on Abbot. That was something you could do.
———
It only took a few minutes. A few minutes of peace, before your heart was pounding again as the monitors went off, alerting you to something wrong with your patient. The heart rate monitor began to beep erratically, the sound sending fear straight into your gut.
“Heart rate is spiking. He’s at- god- he’s at one fifty-” you started, but before you were even fully finished speaking, the heart rate changed again.
It was jagged and irregular, something inherently wrong.
“Pressure’s tanking.” Abbot said what you’d been thinking. He was already moving to the man’s beside, his presence once again commanding and controlled.
The patient let out a cry, his body writhing.
“Hey. Hey! Stay with us.” Your hands were already on the man, trying to steady him as he began to twitch.
You could feel it. He was crashing. And crashing hard.
“BP is seventy systolic.” Abbot called out.
Your heart stuttered.
“Septic shock.” You breathed.
“We can’t wait. We need to put another line in.” Abbot ordered, the commanding tone back in his voice.
“On it.” You announced, your hands trembling slightly as you worked the new IV line in. “Line’s in.” Your voice was steadier than your hands.
“Good. Fluid is in. Perlah, start vasopressors.” Abbot was on the other side of the bed, helping you steady the patient.
The man in the bed gasped suddenly, his eyes then rolling to the back of his head.
Oh no.
“Neuro- Neuro’s declining. GCS is also dropping-” your tone was bordering on frantic.
“We might need to intubate.” Abbot met your gaze.
Everything was too loud. Too much. Too scary.
The monitor beeped and beeped, getting faster and louder, like it was reaching a terrible crescendo, then it stopped all of a sudden. Then there was just one flat beep.
“No pulse.” You whispered.
You- you had promised you would do everything you can for him.
You didn’t even know his name.
He was a patient. A man that trusted you to save him. And you didn’t.
And then an even worse thought occurred to you.
That could be you lying in that hospital bed.
In a matter of hours.
That could be Perlah lying in that hospital bed.
Flatlining. No pulse.
Or it could- it could be- no. You couldn’t even form the words in your mind.
He would be okay. He would have to be.
He was strong and fit and healthy. He would survive this. You, on the other hand- you could be in a body bag before your shift was even over. Just like this man would be.
Would anyone miss this nameless man?
Would anyone miss you?
“Starting compressions.” Abbot’s voice cut your spiralling thoughts off.
He hadn’t even hesitated. Of course he hadn’t.
He moved instantly, his strong hands locking onto the man’s chest as he began CPR. His biceps worked as the force of each pump jolted the patient's body into the bed with every push.
“I- I- how can I help?” You stammered.
“Epi. Push a round of epi.” He was so calm, so strong when you were so panicked and so weak. His energy was…soothing, grounding.
You nodded, quickly pushing the epi through the line.
Your head ached as you forced yourself to focus, the panic clouding your mind momentarily creating pressure in your head.
You blinked.
Was it- was it the panic causing your headache?
“Reid.” His sharp tone once again broke you out of your own mind.
You didn't even realise you’d slowed down.
“Sorry. Epi’s in.” You said quickly.
His eyes flicked over your face. “You okay?”
“Fine.” You sighed.
“Good. Remember-” he started.
“I know.” You snapped.
But your voice wasn’t as steady as you’d hoped. A wave of dizziness hit you, the room tilting just slightly. But you swallowed, and locked your knees, forcing yourself to focus.
“Let’s switch.” You told Abbot, having no idea how long he’d been pumping away for.
“I’ve got it.” He sounded almost breathless as he continued to pound on the man’s chest.
“No. We should switch. It’s standard procedure.” You argued.
He eyed you for a second, then nodded, “Fine.”
You stepped up to his side, your smaller hands replacing his, pressing down hard against the man’s chest as Abbot caught his breath behind you.
“One, two, three.” You counted under your breath, your arms aching with the effort.
You’d only made it to about ten before your arms were burning with exhaustion.
“Push harder. You’re barely even making a dent.” Abbot ordered.
“I am-”
“Harder, Reid.”
You gritted your teeth, fighting your exhaustion, and pushed deeper onto the man’s chest.
Your head pulsed.
“Thirty. Ventilate.” You sighed.
Perlah pressed on the breathing mask on his face, forcing air into his lungs.
Abbot checked his pulse. “Still nothing. Continue.”
You kept going, kept pounding on his chest, even though your arms screamed in protest.
Your breaths were short and quick, and you felt a bead of sweat drip down your temple. Your head felt like it was about to explode, like it was pressurised.
“Reid.” You heard Abbot’s voice.
You ignored him.
“Reid.”
“I’m good.” You snapped.
“You didn’t switch when you were supposed to.” His words were low and concerned.
Your stomach churned.
He was right. You hadn’t. You’d lost count.
“I-“
“Switch. Now.” His words were an order, leaving no room for argument.
Your hands hesitated for half a second, before you stepped back, letting him take over. It was just one step. You’d taken one step, and another wave of dizziness hit you.
Your head pounded in time with your heart.
You sucked in a sharp breath, your hand reaching out to the side of the bed to steady yourself.
Shit.
“Hey.” His voice forced you to meet his eyes. He was hunched over, doing compressions, the muscles in his arms and shoulders working.
“Just a little dizzy. I skipped breakfast. That’s all.” You held up a hand to wave off his concern.
“You sure? Because from where I’m standing, you look like you’re about to hit the floor.” His breathing was uneven, each word spoken in between a pump of his hands.
“I’m not- I just- I stood up too fast.” You swallowed, blinking.
“You didn’t stand up. You stepped back.” He argued, his eyes never leaving yours, “Ventilate.” He didn’t miss a beat with his order to Perlah.
Fuck.
Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupidly good observational skills.
“It’s just a headache.” You said quickly.
Abbot’s eyes widened, his compressions stuttering. His jaw tightened.
“When did it start?” His words were calm.
“It doesn’t matter-”
“Since when, Reid?”
“Like three minutes ago. Can we focus on the patient, please?” You tried to force some venom into your tone, but you failed, your head aching.
“I am focussed. I’m also more than capable of focusing on two patients at once.” He resumed his compressions a little bit harder than they had been before.
Your heart sank at his words.
“I’m not a patient.” You practically hissed at him, fear clawing at your insides. “I’m not sick.”
He just watched you for a moment, his lips pressed together. As if he was assessing you. You hated it.
“I’m not sick!” You repeated, louder now, fear making your voice louder.
“Reid, step back. That’s an order.” He commanded you.
“No! He’s my patient! I’m going to see this through.” You ground out.
Abbot lifted his hands, halting his compressions midway through a set.
“Back!” He yelled, pointing a finger towards the corner of the room.
You had just opened your mouth to prove you could yell just as loud, when Perlah interrupted you.
“Guys!”
“What?” Abbot and you both snapped at the same time, glaring daggers at the nurse.
“He’s got a pulse,” she glared right back at the two of you, like she knew you were acting like children.
You looked at the monitor. Little disruptions in the flat line accompanied the sound of consistent beeps. He had a heartbeat. You breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“He’s got a pulse!” You repeated, immediately flitting to the patient's side, sticking two fingers onto his neck.
“Reid! I just told you to-” Abbot’s tone was angry, something you’d rarely heard from the man.
Perlah planted her hand on his shoulder, murmuring something low in his ear. Something that sounded a lot like, “She’s already exposed. Robby will be here soon.”
You ignored her words, instead focusing on the patient. The man’s pulse was thready and weak, but it was there. That was all that mattered.
You ignored the thoughts that swirled in your head, that warned you of neurological deficits and septic shock.
“Okay. Let’s stabilize him. We’re not losing him now.” Abbot ran a hand through his soft curls as he sighed, clearly realising you weren’t going to listen to him.
You nodded, ignoring the way your head throbbed with the movement. You also ignored the way his eyes kept flicking to you, watching you.
The way his eyes lingered on you had you breathing unevenly, your heart still hammering. Or maybe that was a symptom of something.
You didn’t know which option was worse.
——————-
Abbot and you both stood by the man’s bedside, facing each from opposite sides. You felt his eyes on your face as you stared down at your patient. It had only been a few minutes. Long enough for his BP to stabilize. Long enough for his heart rate to even out to a regular rhythm.
Your eyes snapped up to Abbot’s, absolutely sick of the way he was staring.
“What?” Your tone was harsh.
“Nothing.” He held his hands up in mock surrender.
“It’s clearly not nothing. You’re staring at me like I’ve got something on my face, am I know for a fact there’s nothing there. So what is it? What do you want?” You snapped.
“There’s a lot of things I want, starting with-” he started, but a sharp knock on the door cut him off.
You both turned.
The small room's window revealed unfamiliar masked faces. Your heart rate kicked up, beating wildly against your ribs at the reminder that you were in this mess.
The unfamiliar faces scared you more than they should have. Infection control. Disease management.
“Here we go.” Abbot murmured.
Your stomach dropped. Your hot anger was gone, replaced by the cold bite of terror.
“Jack.” You squeaked out, fear once again tightening your chest.
Your hand instinctively reached out, grabbing hold of his across the bed, your hand landing on top of the back of his. He jolted, but didn’t tear it out from beneath yours. It was warm and solid and real. You don’t know why you reached for it. You just knew it would be comforting.
And then a thought occurred to you. What if you never got to hold it again? What if you never got to tell him how you really felt?
His gaze was once again on you, and he must have seen the fear etched in your features.
His other hand landed on top of yours, squeezing once.
“It’s gonna be okay. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He whispered, ducking his head to keep your eyes on him.
Your breath hitched.
“You- you can’t promise something like that. Look at-” you pointed at the man between you, unconscious and covered in the red rash.
“He’s alive, isn’t he?” He whispered.
“Yeah, but-” you dropped your gaze to your hands.
“No buts. He’s okay, and you’re going to be okay. You hear me?”
You were silent.
“Eyes on me.” He whispered.
You looked up.
“Do you hear me?”
“Yes.” You whispered.
Then he leaned in, his words low enough for only you, and the unconscious patient, to hear.
“When we get out of here, I’m going to take you out. HR be damned. That’s another thing I can promise you.” He murmured, his words threatening to make your knees buckle.
Your eyes widened, a strange sense of…hope in your chest. His words were certain, and soft. And he was so strong, and so confident. Maybe he was right. Maybe you could allow yourself to hope.
A tentative tiny flicker of hope unfurled in your chest. Then another confusing emotion assaulted you. Want. Desire. Need. Was he just trying to distract you? Or was he serious? Did he want that just as much as you did?
“You promise?” Your words were barely even a whisper, but he still managed to hear you.
His hand squeezed yours once. Twice.
“You wanna go out with me that badly?” He teased.
“Jack.” You ground out, clearly in no mood for joking.
“Okay, okay. I promise. Happy?”
“Not even a little bit.” You whispered.
Before he could say more, the door cracked open.
“Doctor Abbot and Doctor Reid? Perlah Alawi?” The first masked man asked, entering the room slowly.
Your chest tightened and your head pounded.
“That’s us.” Abbot confirmed, squeezing your hand again.
“You need to step away from the patient.” The booming voice was loud in the small room.
Neither of you moved. You weren’t moving.
“He’s not stable yet.” You argued.
“We’re aware. But you have had unprotected exposure.” The voice was calm. Too calm. It was the kind of voice that you used right before you delivered bad news to someone fragile.
“You need to come with us. Now.” The tall man ordered.
The heart rate monitor beeped behind you. You didn’t step back. Neither did Abbot. Perlah watched the two of you with observant eyes, following your lead.
You glanced at Abbot. But he wasn’t looking at the door. He was looking at you.
“Give us a minute,” Abbot told the masked man.
“You’ve got ten seconds before we forcibly remove you.” The masked woman behind the man snapped, her stature was small but her voice was loud.
Your blood pounded in your ears.
“The patient is stable. His vitals are holding. Your work here is done.” The masked man said, his protective gear sending fear coursing through you.
You nodded, your legs feeling like jelly as you slid your hand from Abbot’s and made your way to the door. You turned around to make sure Abbot was doing the same. He was. He was following your lead. Something about the sight made your heart swell.
Together. You were going together.
Sure, you were in this mess, but you weren’t alone. You had him.
“Continue monitoring. If his pressure drops again, increase fluids and page me immediately.” Abbot told the infection control team, his voice deadly serious.
“That won’t be necessary, Doctor Abbot. We’ve got him from here.”
You hesitated for just a second, looking back at the patient as if you were unwilling to just leave him after saving his life.
Then Abbot caught up with you, his large hand reaching for yours. You let him take your hand, allowing him to pull you those final steps towards the doorway out of the room. If your head wasn’t so cloudy, you knew that your hand would be tingling with his touch.
As you were pulled out of the room, your breathing quickened, everything becoming way too real.
“Jack-”
His thumb brushed the back of your hand in a back and forth motion you assumed was to calm you.
“I know. I know. Just remember my promise, okay?” He whispered.
You nodded, clenching your jaw.
“What are they- what are they going to do to us?” You asked. You weren’t quite sure what the procedure was for a case like this. Your subjects had focussed on how to treat patients, not doctors. Your head was also kind of foggy, and you wanted Abbot to tell you what was going to happen in that soothing tone of his. You also just really wanted him to keep holding your hand. His touch was just so warm and strong. It made your head quiet.
Maybe you really were sick if these were the types of things you were thinking at a time like this.
Was desire a side effect of meningococcal exposure? You didn’t think so, but then again, you weren’t exactly thinking straight.
“First, they’ll take us to decontamination. In there, they’ll give us prophylaxis because we caught it early. We’re doing everything right. Everything is going to be okay.” He gripped your hand even tighter when you swayed slightly, one of your legs seemingly heavier than the other.
The hallway was too bright. Was it always this bright? The lights seemed to almost burn your eyes as you blinked up at them.
You could see people around you moving to accommodate your little assembled group. Hospital staff stepped aside, doors were opened before you even neared them, voices floated to you.
“Possible meningacoccal.”
“Infection control-”
“She doesn’t look so good.”
You barely heard them over the roaring in your head.
“Reid.” That voice- that voice you knew.
Robby quickly came into view, his dark eyes wide and face drawn.
There was something almost like…panic in his eyes as he took you in. But that couldn’t be right. Why would Robby be concerned? Jack said everything was going to be okay. And you believed him.
“What the hell happened? I heard- I heard someone say you were exposed-” you’d never heard his voice that panicked. It sent your heart rate skyrocketing. Your head swam.
“Hey, Doctor Robby.” You greeted clumsily, your hand coming up to wave.
The blood leeched from his face.
He glanced at Abbot. “What the hell happened?”
“We got exposed to meningococcal. A patient came in with it and we realised too late. She’s going to be okay though.” Abbot stood tall against Robby’s scrutinising gaze.
“Why would you let her near the patient?” Robby practically growled.
“Are you serious? Have you met her? You try to stop her from doing something. Go on, I dare you.” Abbot was not backing down.
Robby glanced down at your joined hands, his jaw tightening.
“Her immune system, Jack. It’s shit. She-” his voice dropped even lower as he whispered something to Jack that you couldn’t hear.
You didn’t like that they were talking about you one bit. You especially didn’t like the way Jack’s eyes widened in shock.
Robby’s hand came up before you could even track it, his gentle hand landing on your forehead, you were guessing to check your temperature.
You batted his hand away with your free one, a frown deepening the lines in his face.
“How could you let this happen?” Robby snapped at Jack.
“Let what happen? I’m fine.” You said too quickly.
“Don’t do that, Reid.”
“Don’t do what?” You asked. Robby wasn’t making sense and you were confused.
“Brush this off. This isn’t something you just ignore. Not this.” Robby’s words were to you, but his eyes were on Abbot.
“Why were you in that room? Why did you stay?” Robby whispered, his dark eyes falling back on you.
“I- we were in the room before we realised what the patient had.” You defended.
“Again, why did you stay?”
“Jack stayed-” you furrowed your brows.
“The patient was crashing right in front of us. We had to stabilize him.” Jack cut in, sensing your confusion, stepping slightly in front of you to take Robby’s questions.
“And in the process, you exposed her.” Robby’s tone was angry, his voice rising.
You saw Jack physically flinch at Robby’s words.
Jack and Robby both stared each other down.
The silence stretched uncomfortably.
You could practically feel the heat and unspoken words radiating off each of them.
“She made her own decision,” Jack said finally.
Robby sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. His dark gaze softened when it met yours. “You should have stepped out.”
“I couldn’t. Our patient needed us.” Your words were unfaltering.
Robby closed his eyes for a second. “I know. That’s just who you are, isn’t it?”
“It is.” Jack piped up.
The masked woman at the front of your little group cleared her throat.
“We need to move. Decontamination is ready.” She announced.
This was it. You were out of time.
Your eyes flicked between the two men, wild and scared. Jack’s hand squeezed yours.
“I’m coming with you.” Robby said sternly.
“No you’re not. Restricted access.” The woman was not tolerating any of your groups’ antics.
“I’m her attending.” His expression darkened.
“And you’re not exposed. They are. You stay out here. Simple as that.” She was willing to fight him on it.
You watched his face morph into something like helplessness.
He turned to you, something in his eyes. “Reid-”
“I’ll be okay.” You said softly.
You didn’t know if you were reassuring him or yourself.
“She will be. I’ve got her.” Jack’s words were deadly serious.
The two of them exchanged looks, something deep and meaningful passing across their faces, before Robby nodded.
“Don’t let anything happen to her, Jack.”
“She’s going to be just fine. One attending is more than enough to take care of her.” Jack’s grin was small, but you saw it. And something about it had your cheeks heating.
God, you really must be sick.
———
A/N: I’ve already got most of part 2 written so let me know if you guys would be interested in a part 2!
