Campfire Chronicles SFW

Storys form me for you, at my little virtual campfire.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

My little campfire to share storys

Take a seat, share the warmth, and treat the people here with care. Different views are okay; unkindness is not.

Treat others the way you want to be treated. When in doubt, be kind.

I don’t fulfill requests, but you’re welcome to send me ideas.

This is the SFW version of Campfire-Chronicles.

Here is the SFW-Masterlist. Only appropriate content is posted here.

Pretty much everthing else lives my personal blog Hexenratte.

I don’t fulfill requests. You’re welcome to send ideas.

If you want to know what I enjoy reading, check my recommendations blog.

Treat others the way you want to be treated. When in doubt, be kind.

This is a safe-for-work space. Boundaries are not negotiable.

Standalone, SFW one-shots.

Currently: You vs Monday

Between Always & Never - The Pitt Jack Abbot (14 chapters)

Spot on - Chicago PD AU — Series (4 chapters)

Sleepy Eye - Supernatural case fic Mini-Series complet (3 chapters)

Voting Time! - Which series will I write next?

All content published here is SFW.

Visual works may appear alongside writing.

A masterlist will be added once there’s more to gather.

Recommendations and my own you'll find on Campfire Artworks.

The visual anchors used here were created specifically for this space. If you’re interested in something similar, you can ask.

Story recommendations are hosted on a separate blog.

That blog includes MDNI (18+) content.

Tumblr’s native Mature Content shielding is applied to all MDNI reblogs there.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

Safe Harbor

Pairing / Character(s): Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

A long night ends with borrowed house keys, breakfast and one partner asking questions about the other.

warnings: police procedural nonsense, stupid men

After your conversation with Captain Mason, you and Burke dutifully spent the next one and a half hours writing your reports. You both proofread each other’s and hand them in. Looking at your new work partner you ask, “What now?”

“Now, we call it a night and go... home. The FBI won’t give us any answers at one in the morning.”

You huff, “Sounds like a plan. Can you drop me off in Brookline? My car's at home. Jack dropped me off.”

Ryan nods.

“Thanks. Where do you live?”

He shrugs. “Where I park my horse.”

“You sleep in your car?”

Another shrug, “Why would I pay 100 bucks to sleep in a bed for 6 hours?”

“So, I guess you lived with your last partner and had to move out when it went sideways.”

“Something like that.”

Rubbing your face you make a judgment call. Because so far Ryan’s been a great partner and he deserves some real sleep. Just in case some one shoots at you – again. And then there is the issue of Jack – who might object to you sleeping alone after your vest hit.

“Okay. I have... a proposition. I’m currently staying at Jack’s. If we make a detour to PTMC, I can get his keys and you can drop me off at his place in Mount Washington. Then you can stay at my place and get some decent sleep. It could cost you a couple of questions from nosy neighbors but no money. And you’d get a decent night’s sleep.”

The detective blinks, before checking “Do I look that bad?”

“Yes.”

Huffing he folds his hands, stares down at them, then says, “Fine. Thanks. I promise not to scare your nosy neighbors. And I can pick you up at Mount Washington by 9:10.”

“I’ll text Jack.”

D12: Can I pick up your apartment keys in 15? Jack: Sure. Everything okay? D12: Yeah. Just done for tonight. Jack: I'll leave them with Lena. D12: Thanks. Just wake me up when you come home. My ride gets here at 9. Jack: You'll work day shift? D12: Have to meet people that don't do nights. Jack: We'll talk about this.

On the drive to PTMC you give Ryan a quick rundown about your grandparents’ house. Parking, neighbourhood routines, heating, the old kitchen lamp, the upstairs bathroom/construction site, the home gym in the cellar, where to find bedding and towels and that your fridge is usually fairly empty during the week.

He chuckles when you’re done, “Sounds like a nice setup. What’s the issue with the bathroom renovation? Missing supplies?”

“Nope, missing time. Supplies are all stored in the cellar.”

“Mind me taking a dig at it?”

You shake your head, “As long as you know what you’re doing.”

Your work-partner stops the Chevy beside the ambulance bay. Since Jack’s busy, you’re on your way to his place within five minutes. Even Lena had only spotted you and quickly thrown you the keys. From the looks of it a party had been crashed by some kind of accident.

Fishing out your own key chain you pull off your housekey and place it in the centre console.

“Any questions about my grandparent’s house?”

“They still alive?”

“No, they... died years ago. I just... for me it’s somehow still the house my grandfather built and therefore his.”

Ryan nods, “WIFI-password?”

“I’ll send it to you. What’s your number?”

He gives you his private cell number, his work cell number, and his number at Homicide. You send the WIFI-password and the one to access the ring camera footage. Giving him instructions about your home security setup in between directions to Jack’s apartment building. When he stops the car and puts on the hazard lights you grab you bag and tell him through the open passenger door, “See you at 9:10. Sleep tight.”

“Will do. You too.”

“Ugh,” you blink into the light and stretch – only to stop as your right side reminds you it took a hit a few hours ago. Jack’s sitting beside you with a glass of water in one hand and a pill bottle in the other. He hands you the water first, then drops two pills into the palm of your outstretched hand. After swallowing the meds and emptying the glass you ask, “Time?”

“7:30. I brought breakfast. And questions.”

Yawning, you reply, “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in five. And I hope it’s not Avocado Toast.”

Jack huffs and gets up. “It’s breakfast burritos with chicken and cheese and eggs and sour cream, Raccoon.”

“Smart Shepherd.”

The smell of the burritos and coffee welcomes you in the kitchen. Your plate is already set, but you ignore it in favour of giving Jack a hug, a kiss and say, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

Your Shepperd is nice enough to let you finish your first whole bread goodie – though you hadn’t known you could even get whole bread breakfast burritos. Then he starts the... interrogation.

“So, your raid detainee is dead. And Detective Ryan Burke from homicide is your new partner. Why?”

“Because that detainee also sent me the package and that’s probably one of the last things she did before she died. We’re investigating her murder.” You take your first bite of the second burrito.

“And how did you BOTH end up getting shot during a murder investigation?”

You swallow and answer, “We checked her whereabouts and got in the middle of... something.” Then take the next bite.

“A ‘something’ that had people shooting at two police officers.”

Shrugging, you clarify, “We were in plain clothes. They stopped shooting once they realised we were police.” You manage one more bite.

”Well... at least you were wearing a vest.”

You’re smart enough to smile and nod. No way you’re telling him you only wore it because of him. He’d never let you hear the end of that one.

“So, you’re meeting the FBI this morning?”

“We’re meeting the agents whose operation we interrupted, when we got in the middle of that ‘something’.” Your burrito is about two bites from done.

“Sounds like that ‘something’ was a drug delivery. Anything I need to know about your new partner? Other than the fact he screwed his last one?”

“I can’t comment on that. And I don’t know much about Ryan yet. Other than he’s calm under pressure, no snitch and very reliable backup. Oh, and he’s sleeping at my grandparent’s house.”

“What?”

Cleaning your fingers with a piece of kitchen paper you look at Jack. “Which part of my statement do I need to clarify?”

“The one about your new partner sleeping at your house. Unless I completely missed something you met the guy last night. And barley know anything about him.”

“I know he has my back when I need it. I know he’s capable. And I know six hours in my bed will see him a lot more on top of his game than six hours in his car will. Former ranger or not – fatigue is dangerous in my line of work.”

Jack holds up his hands. “That... wasn’t meant as an accusation. But please just stay with the Detective sleeping in your house. I really do not need to picture him in your bed. Sleeping or otherwise.”

“Okay. That may have been an unfortunate way to phrase things.” You slide off your stool to get your gear sorted for today. As you move past Jack he takes your wrist.

“Follow me to the bathroom. It’s got better light. I want to take a look at these ribs before you head out.”

You sight but obediently trot after him.

Unsurprisingly Jack’s bathroom houses a small hospital. He prods, pokes and listens to you. When he’s satisfied, you’re not worse than before, he offers you a deal, “I do have a rib binder. BUT you can only wear it for six hours, you have to continue your breathing exercises and you have to keep taking it easy.”

“Fine.”

Jack looks at you.

“It’s really fine. We’ve got meetings and desk work today anyways.”

“At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if you managed to get shot by the FBI in a meeting.”

“Oh, come on! Have a little faith in me.”

“That’s just it. You’re entirely capable of annoying the shit out of an agent just to get answers.”

“Mph.”

“Lift your arms to the sides.”

After Jack is done wrapping your ribs you get dressed, return the two large icepacks to the fridge and transfer all necessities from your duty belt to the pocket of your cargo pants. Because Jack’s not wrong, you do have a tendency to dig for answers. And some people occasionally feel... provoked by that.

Returning to the kitchen you find the table already cleared and Jack putting a lunch container and a travel mug on the counter.

“Are those for me?”

“Well, I’m going to bed as soon as you are on your way.”

“Jack.” Then you hug him again and this time he hugs you back and doesn’t let go for long minutes. When you look up Jack kisses you soft and warm. Just as you start to get ideas – the doorbell rings.

Your doctor steps back, saying, “Take care.”

“I will. No reason to turn on the scanner.”

“No promises. And eat your lunch.”

Shaking your head you check the clock 9:11. You take the two containers from the counter and head for the apartment door as the morning light glints in Jack’s grey curls. You turn around with your hand on the door handle, “Sleep well. I’ll text you if something comes up.”

That unimpressed look – again. “You better.”

As you open the door and close it behind you, you’re severely hopping this day will finally be an easy day. You’re kind of sick and tired of the only easy day having been days ago.

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming August 23rd)

This is the SFW adaptation of the original Between Always and Never series posted on my main blog. The original version contains explicit sexual content and additional intimate scenes. Storyline, character dynamics and overarching plot remain consistent between both versions.

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

Missing Pieces

Pairing / Character(s): Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

After the vest hit Jack examines you. Then he disappears. You're officially done taking everybody's shit this week. Unfortunately, Captain Mason has even more coming.

warnings: emotinal outburst, police procedural nonsense, mild injuries.

Jack leads you to the gurney in trauma 1. “Sit down and let’s get your vest and shirt off,” he demands.

“Sure. Just don’t cut it off. It’s one of my good ones and the department doesn’t replace private clothing,” you mumble.

A nurse – Mateo – takes your vest from you and deposits it on a table. Jack helps you pull your T-shirt over your head. You hiss, as you lift your right arm above your head.

Taking his stethoscope Jack listens to your breathing. Announcing, “Breath sounds equal bilaterally.” Then he looks at Matteo, who states “BP 136 over 82, pulse 104, respirations 18, oxygen saturation 93 percent.”

“Does it hurt to breathe?” Jack wants to know.

“Only if I take deep breaths into the chest,” you reassure him. Well, really every breath hurts a little, but deep breaths are just too painful.

He doesn’t look reassured and starts prodding the area that took the hit, making you wince more than once. “Chest X-ray, CBC, CMP, troponin. Give him fifteen of Toradol IV and keep an eye on the saturation,” Jack orders Matteo.

And then Jack leaves, without another word to you. Is he pissed? Meanwhile Mateo types into the computer station and returns to you. “You’re right-handed?”

“Yeah, why?” You blink.

“Because then I’ll put the IV in the left hand.”

“Do you have to?” You still stare at the doors that Jack left through.

“Standard procedure.”

You consider your options. You can make the nurse's life easy and just let him do his job. OR you can leave against medical advice – pissing off at least half the Pitt and your superiors and go home with possibly a cracked rib. But if Jack were worried he’d stayed. Or he’d at least told you what is going on. Suddenly the twist, turns and surprises of the last days are just too much. You just want home. So, ...

“I’m sorry to make your job more difficult, Matteo. But I’ll leave – against medical advice. Please get me the forms.”

“What?”

“Matteo, please get me the forms I need to sign in order to leave against medical advice. You’ve got five minutes.”

“You’re joking! Man, your stats are concerning enough Dr. Abbot ordered an X-ray and those ribs have to hurt like a bitch.”

“I’ve had worse. And if Jack were really that concerned? He’d stayed and fucking explained what he’s ordering and why. You’ve got 4 minutes 17 seconds left.”

“Your supervisor’s going to have your head!”

“Possible and entirely my problem. 3 minutes 54 seconds.”

Mateo rushes through the door. You start to get dressed, slowly and carefully. Because yes, your ribs do hurt like a bitch. But you can breathe and you can walk. And you certainly have enough OT to take two days off and play possum to the world while you sort yourself out.

You gently slide off the gurney and grab your vest, as Jack pushes through the doors. “What is wrong with you?” he demands to know.

“Not enough to keep me here. You’ve got my forms?”

“No, of course not. One or two of your ribs might be cracked. You’re staying.”

“You can’t make me.” After a quick look at your watch, you add, “And you have 1 minute 40 seconds left before I walk out without signing the AMA-form.”

“You’re not stupid. You won’t do that.”

You shake your head, “Guess you don’t know me. I don’t declare things for the thrill of it.”

“I didn’t say that! Please, just... just let Mateo give you the pain meds, draw some blood and get the X-ray. We don’t need an IV for that, if that’s the problem. Give us half an hour – tops.”

“The stupid IV is not the dumbass problem! The raid was fucked! I got headbutted. I got a knife slash. I got a detainee with concealed weapons and an FBI- and a cartel connection. Who is now dead. After sending me a complete, original uniform-shirt. I got assigned a partner. A former ranger from homicide who literally fucked his last partner. And I was not once asked, if I wanted any of this hell-born mess the size of a football field. And then if that was not enough, you’re taking over my life when it suits you. Only to abandon me – after I got shot the third time in my career – without even the slightest reassurance or all goodly powers forbid a sign that you fucking care Dr. Jack Abbot!”

“I’m so sorry my Raccoon. I do care. I was... I am worried about you. I just... did what I do best. Find out what’s physically wrong with you and fix it.”

Before you can react, Det. Burke sticks his head in. “Hey Morgan, I heard you’re going AMA. Bad idea, man. Captain Mason personally ordered us to get checked out.”

“Detective Burke, stay out of this.” Okay, now Jack’s pissed.

“I’m just trying to keep my partner out of trouble.”

“Thank you for your concern, Detective. But I’ll take care of my partner. You didn’t even know Morgan three hours ago.”

“But now Morgan is my partner.”

“I’ll go find Matteo,” you throw in and move towards the door. Just so they both shut up.

“You’re not going AMA!”

Well, it seems both your partners found something they agree on. Fuckers.

“No, I’m getting the IV, pain meds, an X-ray and preferably another doctor to sign me out. Then I’ll decide which of you I need to get rid of first.”

Stunned silence follows you, as you pass Jack and then Burke.

Mateo makes no production out of you taking your treatment now. He even gets you an ice-pack and chauffeurs you to radiology. On the way back down the pain meds kick in and you relax a bit. You get put into South 1, where you doze off on the bed.

When you wake up from your nap – Burke has taken up residence in a chair beside your bed. And Jack is looking at you with a small smile on his lips.

“You have not managed to crack a rib. Your labs are fine and your stats have come up. It seems your pain made you restrict your breathing.” He gives you a stern look at that.

“So, I can go back to work?”

“You can go back to your desk – as can your work-partner. He got grazed but should be fine, unless the wound gets infected. You should take some naproxen in a few hours. But stay within the normal range. Take it easy until I get you back. And you’ll take ten slow deep breaths every single hour. I don't care if it hurts. Your lungs need it.”

“Ugh, Shepherd I can feel the love.”

“And next time I want to know the second something big hits your radar. Not three hours later because you got shot with your new work-partner.” He narrows his eyes at Burke, “If you even think about making a move on him – you better never need to come back here. We won’t let you die – but that’s as far as our oath goes.”

Burke swallows, “I swear my intentions toward Morgan are purely professional.”

“Keep it that way.” And on that note Jack hands you both your discharge papers.

Your Chevy has been dropped off at PTMC by patrol. So, Burke accepts the keys from Dana and you head back to the station. Close to midnight the traffic is light and the cold keeps most of the nightcrawlers inside. You try to turn on the radio – no success. Hm, you thought Sergeant Wolf liked you.

Five minutes into the drive the detective asks, “Are you going by Heron or Raccoon?”

“Neither.”

“Fine, Raccoon it is. You’re definitely a trouble maker.”

“Are you trying to piss off my partner? Or just jealous you don’t have a nickname, Duck?”

“Both your partners calling you by the same name sounds less confusing. And it’s Ryan.”

“Noted, Duck.”

 At the district you’ve barely been greeted by the aroma of stale coffee and floor cleaner when Sergeant Wolf calls you over, “Morgan, Burke, Captain wants to see you both – now!”

You both exchange a look. Ryan shrugs and turns toward the stairs – you trot after him. After a short knock to the open office door, you enter.

“Close the door.”

Oh, oh. You gently shut it and take the discharge paperwork to the captain’s desk. Only there’s really nowhere to put it. The desk isn’t chaotic. Everything sits in neat piles. There are just a lot of them.  Captain Mason takes the papers from you and places them on top of his overflowing inbox.

“Detective Burke, Officer Morgan, what brought you to warehouse 11?”

Before Ryan can put his foot in his mouth, you answer, “Captain, the package Fernandez sent me had wrapping paper from Cheeks and cocaine residue inside. Warehouse 11 is reportedly used by Cheeks. We wanted to confirm that and take a look.”

“A look that put you in the middle of a drug delivery. Based on wrapping paper?”

This time you’re not fast enough to intercept Ryan, “And the fact that Fernandez was there every week for about an hour according to the tracker she carried.”

“What tracker?”

Internally sighing you drop the bomb, “The tracker I found during the second search at PTMC. I handed it to Mr. Adler for analysis. He managed to decrypt it and extract Fernandez’s whereabouts.”

“There was no tracker in the evidence logs from the raid.”

“That’s correct, Sir. The tracker and the knives went into the evidence log associated with the assault.”

“I personally requested all evidence connected to the raid from Adler!”

“Well, Mr. Adler may have misunderstood you, Sir,” you try to mitigate the fallout for Micki.

“Michael Adler is one of the smartest people in this building! If he misunderstood me, he did that on purpose. Damn tech goblin can’t keep his hands off puzzles,” the captain explodes. Then he rubs his forehead and mutters, “The FBI is not going to be happy about any of this.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. What does the FBI have to do with this?”

"Go ask the FBI. The Harrison field office. SSA Mallard Gibson. And while you’re there apologize for interfering with their investigation." After that statement Captain Mason points to the door. You’re dismissed and leave his office quietly.

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming August 16th)

This is the SFW adaptation of the original Between Always and Never series posted on my main blog. The original version contains explicit sexual content and additional intimate scenes. Storyline, character dynamics and overarching plot remain consistent between both versions.

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

“Detective Burke, stay out of this.” Okay, now Jack’s pissed.

“I’m just trying to keep my partner out of trouble.”

“Thank you for your concern, Detective. But I’ll take care of my partner. You didn’t even know Morgan three hours ago.”

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

13.5 Check Out

“Okay, detective, follow me.” Dr. Shen looks at Lena.

“Take South 3.”

The doctor starts walking.

Burke protests, “I’m fine doc. Just a graze. Hand me some disinfectant, a couple butterfly-strips, a band-aid and I’ll be back in the saddle.”

“No can do. Abbot said to check you OVER. So, let’s get this over with.”

The detective sighs and moves in the indicated direction, looking Dr. Shen over. “You can blame me for rather having you checking me out than over. You’re cute.” He steps into the room.

“I’m at work Detective Burke,” Shen reminds him and closes the door. “Sit down, please.” He indicates the bed.

The red head does, while stating, “I’ve no problem coming back after this shift.”

“You’re a patient. It would be unethical. If you’d take your vest and shirt off, please.”

“You say you’re not interested but wanna inspect the wares anyway?” Burke wiggles his eyebrows, a smirk on his lips and loosens the straps of his vest.

The attending raises his eyes to the ceiling, “My interest in your body is purely professional.”

“Such a shame. Let me know, if you change your mind.”

“Not happening. My collection of crazy exes is full.”

masterlist

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

Comments and asks are welcome.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

🗳️ FINAL CALL — 10 HOURS LEFT!

Can we please solve this before Winston starts charging arbitration fees? 😅

Current situation:

🖤 What Counts and 🩺 Matches are currently tied for first place. 🥊 Spot On is only one vote behind them. 🚒 Adults Are Stupid! is still in the race. 👁️ Natural Order has officially escaped the zero-vote curse.

This is now absurdly close, and I genuinely have no idea which header I'll be building tomorrow morning.

If you've been following the Campfire Poll 2026 but haven't voted yet, now is the moment. All five contenders already have a first chapter waiting behind the curtain.

👉 Voting time

Help me decide whether tomorrow belongs to Mouse & Jay, Baba Yaga, Dr. Carter, Buddie, or Ward. 🖤

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

🗳️ Campfire Poll 2026 – 3 days left!

Five contenders are fighting for the next regular posting slot, and the race is still open.

✨ Spot On (Chicago PD) 🖤 What Counts (John Wick) 🩺 Matches (ER) 🚒 Adults Are Stupid! (9-1-1) 👁️ Natural Order (Supernatural)

Every contender already has a first chapter written, so whichever series wins can start immediately after the poll ends.

If you haven't voted yet, this is your reminder to pick the story you'd most like to read next. 😊

👉Voting time

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

Jesse/Jack & You vs Monday

We all know Robby can't keep his hands off certain people. Unfortunatly for you and the Pitt's staff, so does the director of Risk Management. Which means mandatory sexual harassment training. In person. On a Monday. Really, it was not Monday's fault.

warnings: Mondays are real! And this fic is devoted to the Alexes and Marks of the office world. So, the Alexes I deal with on a regular basis live a little longer...

You vs Monday (prelude)

It’s Monday and you’re back at the office on day ten of a 90-degree heatwave. But it’s going to be a short day. Six hours and you’re done. Because you and Jack are visiting the Andy Warhol Museum – which has AC.

The first 90 minutes into this Monday are uneventful – then Alex calls.

“Hi. I need you to cover an in person, sexual harassment seminar. I have to finish the reports. I’ll work from home today.”

“Ugh, Alex, sexual harassment seminars are Legal’s business not ours.”

“Don’t worry Chris or Susann will give the seminar. You’re just there to protocol attendance.”

“Chris cancelled all his meetings this week two days ago because his son is sick. And Susann is on vacation.”

“Mph, you’ll be just fine. It’s only a presentation you press the button to play the video and show a couple slides.”

“That’s nowhere even close to my area of expertise. I won’t be able to answer any questions.”

“You’ve been to your seminars. You know enough and if you don’t use common sense.”

You quietly call her every name in the book. Of course, she agreed to cover for another department just to dump it on you. You sigh, “When and where?”

“At PTMC at 9 a.m.”

“Alex! It’s 8:30 that gives me half an hour to get there!”

“Well, get going. Have a nice day.”

She hangs up and you stare at the phone. Last time it took you close to 40 min to get to PTMC not to mention set up. So, you’ll be late to harass people with a sexual harassment seminar – in person.

You are 16 minutes late as you meet Ms. Mason the Director of Clinical Risk Management.

“My apologies for the delay. We had some personal issues concerning this seminar. May I ask if there is a specific reason for it?”

She nods, “Our emergency department seems to experience some overstepping of professional boundaries by one of your attendings. Overstepping, as in manhandling med students and residents. We’ve no official reports or complaints – yet. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Understood. Where can I find the meeting room?”

“I booked meeting room 3 on the... ground floor.” She turns to the receptionist. “Mark, has the water damage from 4 weeks ago already been dealt with?”

“No. The ground floor meeting area is still one giant construction site.”

“And why were the room bookings not revised?”

“Shit! Sorry, so sorry, Ms. Mason. I thought everybody knew! Let me check what we have available.” He types furiously on his keyboard and grimaces. “The old meeting room 6 on the third floor is open. Mainly because its AC is... broken.”

“And we have no other rooms available?”

He ducks his head, answering, “Not right now for about two hours and 30 people.”

Mason huffs, “Get me at least 4 standing fans, four boxes of water still and sparkling and two cans of coffee.” Addressing you she adds, “Well, it seems that seminar is not off to an encouraging start. I’ll inform everyone about the room and time change. Here is the list of the people that have been notified to attend. Unfortunately, some of them are coming straight off their night shift.”

You swallow, “Understood.” And follow her to a meeting room. Three floors up. With a broken AC. And attendees that just came off a 12-hour shift.

Mason opens the meeting room door and you both get hit by a wave of hot, stale air. Each of you hurries to a different window – to find out they don’t open at all. Finally, you spot a lever, which you pull and above the big window a small portion creaks open. Next to you hear a second creak.

“I’m afraid that’s it regarding fresh air. You may want to leave the door open.” And that’s the last piece of wisdom director Mason leaves you with. You strip your jacket and fold up your sleeves. Then you connect your laptop to the beamer and pull up the presentation Alex has helpfully sent you.

A few minutes later poor Mark appears, accompanied by Jesse and Jack, dragging in four standing fans and the promised water boxes. Damn, please let them not stay for the seminar?

One fan ends up in the doorway, two in back corners of the room and one you position so it blows past you in the direction of the door. The atmosphere compares to that of an attic in the middle of summer. You just hope everyone’s deodorant is up to the challenge of spending 90 minutes in this Monday morning hell.

Neither Jesse nor Jack have left.

“Jack, you’ve got to stay?” you ask him. Internally pleading, ‘Please, say no.’

“Mandatory attendance.”

 Great! Now you get to give a sexual harassment seminar to your date, because of Alex – one of these days...

You turn to the Pitt’s other silver fox, “And you’re Jesse, right? Got doomed this beautiful morning as well?”

He shrugs and smiles at you, “The company could be worse. But I wouldn’t mind donuts and coffee.”

Of course, the other handsome silver fox has to attend as well. Kill me now, please? And the first part of his answer got him an unimpressed look from Jack. Things you can’t change... About the things you can still change...

“Mark was supposed to bring coffee. And would’ve brought donuts. If I’d known about this... seminar before 8 this morning. Sorry.” Then you offer, “But I could track Mark down about the coffee.”

“Please, don’t!” Both men answer simultaneously.

You sigh.

As the rest of the doomed trickle in, you check their names off the list. You dutifully compare their ID-cards with the names on it. More than one shakes their heads before grabbing a water bottle and quietly making a remark to a colleague. You have ten out of twelve Doctors in the right column: Dr. Jack Abbot, Dr. Dennis Whitaker, Victoria Javadi, Dr. Melissa King, Dr. Cassie McKay, Dr. Samira Mohan, Dr. Michael Robinavitch and Trinity Santos. Missing are Dr. Frank Langdon and Dr. John Shen.

Of the 16 Nurses in the left column, you check off 12: Matteo Diaz, Donnie Donahue, Dana Evans, Lena Handzo, Jesse Van Horn, Vivi Mandel, Eusebio Mendes, Emma Nolan, Jordan Prescott, Olive Rivera, Jamie Watkins, and Bridget Young.

Of those you’re missing: Perlah Alawi, Princess Dela Cruz, Tim Salinger and Kim Tate.

You look at Jack, “It seems we’re still missing six people.” Not that you’re particularly eager to fill the room with more bodies.

“Someone needs to run the ED. Can’t stack the department with only temps for two hours.” It is Dr. Robinavitch who answers to you.

“Noted. Let’s get started.” You square your shoulders and start the presentation.

Over the next 40 minutes you stumble your way through the seminar. Your audience is fanning themselves and within the first 15 minutes most have stripped their scrub tops. Which leaves Jack and Jesse both in their undershirts. And you with the challenge of concentrating on the sexual harassment presentation rather than their sweat-soaked upper bodies. How fitting.

You notice several people almost lying in their chairs with their eyes closed. But really you can’t blame them. The room has reached tropical humidity and temperatures, if you weren’t busy talking, you’d probably be asleep yourself. The only good thing is at this rate it is highly unlikely you’ll get quizzed in the last 15 minutes. You’d surely murder any colleague, who’d voice a question in a room that steam cooks its unlucky inhabitants during a mandatory seminar.

You turn off the beamer and announce, “We’ll take a 10-minute break before we... get to the... hospital-specific policies.” God, for a moment you had forgotten where you are – in front of a room full of people in scrubs...

During the break you check your mail for the hospital policies. Unsuccessfully. You call Alex – who’s not picking up. You call the assistant of the legal department and request the documents – to learn that no one has acquired them and get director Mason’s number. So, you call Mason and end up with her assistant promising you Mark will bring the print-outs up. Because, naturally everybody in attendance will have to sign, that they received a paper copy of PTMC’s policies. Well, now your unfortunate audience gets something to fan themselves with – other than their scrub tops.

The 10-minute break is over for 7 minutes as Mark finally makes an appearance with two boxes of printer paper. You swallow. Even if there are 28 copies in there that’s a lot of paper. Jesse gets up immodestly – ugh, immediately – to take one of the boxes and deposit it on the table in front of you.

“Mark, please tell me that these are not 30 policy copies.”

“No, these are 29 policy copies and the handout list.”

“Mark, no half way sane organisation has sexual harassment policies that are the size of a small book.”

“This is PTMC. We are a hospital.” He winks, “But, about two thirds of those small books is about general policy – not sexual harassment.” After that reassurance Mark leaves.

“Thank the heavens for small mercies.”

Jesse smirks. “You’ve got something against books?”

“No, I love books. Just not company policies that resemble them.”

Jack clears his throat, “So, now we all get to go over these,” he indicates the boxes, “with you?”

Thinking about it you decide, you have had enough of Monday torturing you and everyone else. So, you’ll take a few short cuts. You put on a winning smile, shake your head and put a hand on the boxes with the policies and propose, “These are apparently PTMC’s whole policies. You all get a copy; you’ll have to sign for. Given the circumstances I suggest you may want to read your copy at home.”

Your audience sighs in relief and so do you. It may not be entirely correct, but at this point going over pages and pages of policiesyou’ve never seen before, in front of a half-asleep audience is about as useless as it gets. You get to your final mandatory question, crossing your fingers behind your back. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young doctor in the front row lifts her hand. You force a professional smile on your face. “Yes?”

And then she opens her mouth and asks, "Dr. Robby once asked the women in the ED whether they'd prefer partial nudity and the ECG done correctly, or privacy and a potentially missed cardiac emergency. Is that considered an appropriate teaching method?"

You shake your head and try to understand what she’s talking about. You hear the female doctor with the sour expression, hiss, “Javadi!” and actually, pull on the other doctor’s long ponytail.

Your sluggish brain doesn’t currently recall what an ECG is or what cardiac means. You shoot Jack a pleading look. He’s got to bail you out, please! “I’m not sure I have the... necessary medical... background to answer that. Maybe one of your senior... staff is more... capable of answering that?”

Jack sighs, “Dr. Javadi. That was... supposed to underscore the need for correct lead placement to the EMTs. From what I heard. However, Robby could have certainly found a more appropriate way to deliver that message.” He gives the man beside him a look. “But in the heat of the moment, people don’t make the best decisions.”

“And I wanna get out of the heat in here. So, can your questions and look it up.” The female doctor who pulled Javadi’s ponytail growls.

“Dr. Santos, we’re all frustrated. But unless you wanna read that policy document today and hand me a summary at the beginning of your next shift – I suggest you remember who you are.”

You hold your breath hoping the situation won’t escalate any further. Your smile is a little shaky as you address the room, “Does anyone have additional questions?”

You flinch at a loud bang as the lights go out and the fans stop.

Instead of an answer people start clapping for a moment and then extract themselves from their seats. One after another takes a copy and signs the handout sheet in the dim light coming through the blinds. When Jesse takes one, his smirk is back and he proposes, “You could get us donuts now. For having been such an attentive audience.”

“You certainly deserve them. I’ll see what I can do.” Honestly, after this disaster director Mason owes the ED apology donuts. Poor Mark.

You notice Jack hanging back. He’s the last to take a copy and sign. He smiles at you and says, “I’ll wait for downstairs.”

You nod, now all you have to do is check if your laptop survived and hand the lists off to Mark at the reception. It’s Monday and not even 11 a.m. –surely this day can’t get any worse?

So you people voted. I worte. I hope you enjoded it. This should count as theraphy...

You're welcome to like, reblog or comment. Even if it's not on Monday.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

"A meeting room. Three floors up. With a broken AC. And attendees that just came off a 12-hour shift."

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

Missing Pieces

Pairing / Character(s): Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

After the vest hit Jack examines you. Then he disappears. You're officially done taking everybody's shit this week. Unfortunately, Captain Mason has even more coming.

warnings: emotinal outburst, police procedural nonsense, mild injuries.

Jack leads you to the gurney in trauma 1. “Sit down and let’s get your vest and shirt off,” he demands.

“Sure. Just don’t cut it off. It’s one of my good ones and the department doesn’t replace private clothing,” you mumble.

A nurse – Mateo – takes your vest from you and deposits it on a table. Jack helps you pull your T-shirt over your head. You hiss, as you lift your right arm above your head.

Taking his stethoscope Jack listens to your breathing. Announcing, “Breath sounds equal bilaterally.” Then he looks at Matteo, who states “BP 136 over 82, pulse 104, respirations 18, oxygen saturation 93 percent.”

“Does it hurt to breathe?” Jack wants to know.

“Only if I take deep breaths into the chest,” you reassure him. Well, really every breath hurts a little, but deep breaths are just too painful.

He doesn’t look reassured and starts prodding the area that took the hit, making you wince more than once. “Chest X-ray, CBC, CMP, troponin. Give him fifteen of Toradol IV and keep an eye on the saturation,” Jack orders Matteo.

And then Jack leaves, without another word to you. Is he pissed? Meanwhile Mateo types into the computer station and returns to you. “You’re right-handed?”

“Yeah, why?” You blink.

“Because then I’ll put the IV in the left hand.”

“Do you have to?” You still stare at the doors that Jack left through.

“Standard procedure.”

You consider your options. You can make the nurse's life easy and just let him do his job. OR you can leave against medical advice – pissing off at least half the Pitt and your superiors and go home with possibly a cracked rib. But if Jack were worried he’d stayed. Or he’d at least told you what is going on. Suddenly the twist, turns and surprises of the last days are just too much. You just want home. So, ...

“I’m sorry to make your job more difficult, Matteo. But I’ll leave – against medical advice. Please get me the forms.”

“What?”

“Matteo, please get me the forms I need to sign in order to leave against medical advice. You’ve got five minutes.”

“You’re joking! Man, your stats are concerning enough Dr. Abbot ordered an X-ray and those ribs have to hurt like a bitch.”

“I’ve had worse. And if Jack were really that concerned? He’d stayed and fucking explained what he’s ordering and why. You’ve got 4 minutes 17 seconds left.”

“Your supervisor’s going to have your head!”

“Possible and entirely my problem. 3 minutes 54 seconds.”

Mateo rushes through the door. You start to get dressed, slowly and carefully. Because yes, your ribs do hurt like a bitch. But you can breathe and you can walk. And you certainly have enough OT to take two days off and play possum to the world while you sort yourself out.

You gently slide off the gurney and grab your vest, as Jack pushes through the doors. “What is wrong with you?” he demands to know.

“Not enough to keep me here. You’ve got my forms?”

“No, of course not. One or two of your ribs might be cracked. You’re staying.”

“You can’t make me.” After a quick look at your watch, you add, “And you have 1 minute 40 seconds left before I walk out without signing the AMA-form.”

“You’re not stupid. You won’t do that.”

You shake your head, “Guess you don’t know me. I don’t declare things for the thrill of it.”

“I didn’t say that! Please, just... just let Mateo give you the pain meds, draw some blood and get the X-ray. We don’t need an IV for that, if that’s the problem. Give us half an hour – tops.”

“The stupid IV is not the dumbass problem! The raid was fucked! I got headbutted. I got a knife slash. I got a detainee with concealed weapons and an FBI- and a cartel connection. Who is now dead. After sending me a complete, original uniform-shirt. I got assigned a partner. A former ranger from homicide who literally fucked his last partner. And I was not once asked, if I wanted any of this hell-born mess the size of a football field. And then if that was not enough, you’re taking over my life when it suits you. Only to abandon me – after I got shot the third time in my career – without even the slightest reassurance or all goodly powers forbid a sign that you fucking care Dr. Jack Abbot!”

“I’m so sorry my Raccoon. I do care. I was... I am worried about you. I just... did what I do best. Find out what’s physically wrong with you and fix it.”

Before you can react, Det. Burke sticks his head in. “Hey Morgan, I heard you’re going AMA. Bad idea, man. Captain Mason personally ordered us to get checked out.”

“Detective Burke, stay out of this.” Okay, now Jack’s pissed.

“I’m just trying to keep my partner out of trouble.”

“Thank you for your concern, Detective. But I’ll take care of my partner. You didn’t even know Morgan three hours ago.”

“But now Morgan is my partner.”

“I’ll go find Matteo,” you throw in and move towards the door. Just so they both shut up.

“You’re not going AMA!”

Well, it seems both your partners found something they agree on. Fuckers.

“No, I’m getting the IV, pain meds, an X-ray and preferably another doctor to sign me out. Then I’ll decide which of you I need to get rid of first.”

Stunned silence follows you, as you pass Jack and then Burke.

Mateo makes no production out of you taking your treatment now. He even gets you an ice-pack and chauffeurs you to radiology. On the way back down the pain meds kick in and you relax a bit. You get put into South 1, where you doze off on the bed.

When you wake up from your nap – Burke has taken up residence in a chair beside your bed. And Jack is looking at you with a small smile on his lips.

“You have not managed to crack a rib. Your labs are fine and your stats have come up. It seems your pain made you restrict your breathing.” He gives you a stern look at that.

“So, I can go back to work?”

“You can go back to your desk – as can your work-partner. He got grazed but should be fine, unless the wound gets infected. You should take some naproxen in a few hours. But stay within the normal range. Take it easy until I get you back. And you’ll take ten slow deep breaths every single hour. I don't care if it hurts. Your lungs need it.”

“Ugh, Shepherd I can feel the love.”

“And next time I want to know the second something big hits your radar. Not three hours later because you got shot with your new work-partner.” He narrows his eyes at Burke, “If you even think about making a move on him – you better never need to come back here. We won’t let you die – but that’s as far as our oath goes.”

Burke swallows, “I swear my intentions toward Morgan are purely professional.”

“Keep it that way.” And on that note Jack hands you both your discharge papers.

Your Chevy has been dropped off at PTMC by patrol. So, Burke accepts the keys from Dana and you head back to the station. Close to midnight the traffic is light and the cold keeps most of the nightcrawlers inside. You try to turn on the radio – no success. Hm, you thought Sergeant Wolf liked you.

Five minutes into the drive the detective asks, “Are you going by Heron or Raccoon?”

“Neither.”

“Fine, Raccoon it is. You’re definitely a trouble maker.”

“Are you trying to piss off my partner? Or just jealous you don’t have a nickname, Duck?”

“Both your partners calling you by the same name sounds less confusing. And it’s Ryan.”

“Noted, Duck.”

 At the district you’ve barely been greeted by the aroma of stale coffee and floor cleaner when Sergeant Wolf calls you over, “Morgan, Burke, Captain wants to see you both – now!”

You both exchange a look. Ryan shrugs and turns toward the stairs – you trot after him. After a short knock to the open office door, you enter.

“Close the door.”

Oh, oh. You gently shut it and take the discharge paperwork to the captain’s desk. Only there’s really nowhere to put it. The desk isn’t chaotic. Everything sits in neat piles. There are just a lot of them.  Captain Mason takes the papers from you and places them on top of his overflowing inbox.

“Detective Burke, Officer Morgan, what brought you to warehouse 11?”

Before Ryan can put his foot in his mouth, you answer, “Captain, the package Fernandez sent me had wrapping paper from Cheeks and cocaine residue inside. Warehouse 11 is reportedly used by Cheeks. We wanted to confirm that and take a look.”

“A look that put you in the middle of a drug delivery. Based on wrapping paper?”

This time you’re not fast enough to intercept Ryan, “And the fact that Fernandez was there every week for about an hour according to the tracker she carried.”

“What tracker?”

Internally sighing you drop the bomb, “The tracker I found during the second search at PTMC. I handed it to Mr. Adler for analysis. He managed to decrypt it and extract Fernandez’s whereabouts.”

“There was no tracker in the evidence logs from the raid.”

“That’s correct, Sir. The tracker and the knives went into the evidence log associated with the assault.”

“I personally requested all evidence connected to the raid from Adler!”

“Well, Mr. Adler may have misunderstood you, Sir,” you try to mitigate the fallout for Micki.

“Michael Adler is one of the smartest people in this building! If he misunderstood me, he did that on purpose. Damn tech goblin can’t keep his hands off puzzles,” the captain explodes. Then he rubs his forehead and mutters, “The FBI is not going to be happy about any of this.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. What does the FBI have to do with this?”

"Go ask the FBI. The Harrison field office. SSA Mallard Gibson. And while you’re there apologize for interfering with their investigation." After that statement Captain Mason points to the door. You’re dismissed and leave his office quietly.

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming August 16th)

This is the SFW adaptation of the original Between Always and Never series posted on my main blog. The original version contains explicit sexual content and additional intimate scenes. Storyline, character dynamics and overarching plot remain consistent between both versions.

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

“You’re not going AMA!”

Well, it seems both your partners found something they agree on. Fuckers.

“No, I’m getting the IV, pain meds, an X-ray and preferably another doctor to sign me out. Then I’ll decide which of you I need to get rid of first.”

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

Missing Pieces

Pairing / Character(s): Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

After the vest hit Jack examines you. Then he disappears. You're officially done taking everybody's shit this week. Unfortunately, Captain Mason has even more coming.

warnings: emotinal outburst, police procedural nonsense, mild injuries.

Jack leads you to the gurney in trauma 1. “Sit down and let’s get your vest and shirt off,” he demands.

“Sure. Just don’t cut it off. It’s one of my good ones and the department doesn’t replace private clothing,” you mumble.

A nurse – Mateo – takes your vest from you and deposits it on a table. Jack helps you pull your T-shirt over your head. You hiss, as you lift your right arm above your head.

Taking his stethoscope Jack listens to your breathing. Announcing, “Breath sounds equal bilaterally.” Then he looks at Matteo, who states “BP 136 over 82, pulse 104, respirations 18, oxygen saturation 93 percent.”

“Does it hurt to breathe?” Jack wants to know.

“Only if I take deep breaths into the chest,” you reassure him. Well, really every breath hurts a little, but deep breaths are just too painful.

He doesn’t look reassured and starts prodding the area that took the hit, making you wince more than once. “Chest X-ray, CBC, CMP, troponin. Give him fifteen of Toradol IV and keep an eye on the saturation,” Jack orders Matteo.

And then Jack leaves, without another word to you. Is he pissed? Meanwhile Mateo types into the computer station and returns to you. “You’re right-handed?”

“Yeah, why?” You blink.

“Because then I’ll put the IV in the left hand.”

“Do you have to?” You still stare at the doors that Jack left through.

“Standard procedure.”

You consider your options. You can make the nurse's life easy and just let him do his job. OR you can leave against medical advice – pissing off at least half the Pitt and your superiors and go home with possibly a cracked rib. But if Jack were worried he’d stayed. Or he’d at least told you what is going on. Suddenly the twist, turns and surprises of the last days are just too much. You just want home. So, ...

“I’m sorry to make your job more difficult, Matteo. But I’ll leave – against medical advice. Please get me the forms.”

“What?”

“Matteo, please get me the forms I need to sign in order to leave against medical advice. You’ve got five minutes.”

“You’re joking! Man, your stats are concerning enough Dr. Abbot ordered an X-ray and those ribs have to hurt like a bitch.”

“I’ve had worse. And if Jack were really that concerned? He’d stayed and fucking explained what he’s ordering and why. You’ve got 4 minutes 17 seconds left.”

“Your supervisor’s going to have your head!”

“Possible and entirely my problem. 3 minutes 54 seconds.”

Mateo rushes through the door. You start to get dressed, slowly and carefully. Because yes, your ribs do hurt like a bitch. But you can breathe and you can walk. And you certainly have enough OT to take two days off and play possum to the world while you sort yourself out.

You gently slide off the gurney and grab your vest, as Jack pushes through the doors. “What is wrong with you?” he demands to know.

“Not enough to keep me here. You’ve got my forms?”

“No, of course not. One or two of your ribs might be cracked. You’re staying.”

“You can’t make me.” After a quick look at your watch, you add, “And you have 1 minute 40 seconds left before I walk out without signing the AMA-form.”

“You’re not stupid. You won’t do that.”

You shake your head, “Guess you don’t know me. I don’t declare things for the thrill of it.”

“I didn’t say that! Please, just... just let Mateo give you the pain meds, draw some blood and get the X-ray. We don’t need an IV for that, if that’s the problem. Give us half an hour – tops.”

“The stupid IV is not the dumbass problem! The raid was fucked! I got headbutted. I got a knife slash. I got a detainee with concealed weapons and an FBI- and a cartel connection. Who is now dead. After sending me a complete, original uniform-shirt. I got assigned a partner. A former ranger from homicide who literally fucked his last partner. And I was not once asked, if I wanted any of this hell-born mess the size of a football field. And then if that was not enough, you’re taking over my life when it suits you. Only to abandon me – after I got shot the third time in my career – without even the slightest reassurance or all goodly powers forbid a sign that you fucking care Dr. Jack Abbot!”

“I’m so sorry my Raccoon. I do care. I was... I am worried about you. I just... did what I do best. Find out what’s physically wrong with you and fix it.”

Before you can react, Det. Burke sticks his head in. “Hey Morgan, I heard you’re going AMA. Bad idea, man. Captain Mason personally ordered us to get checked out.”

“Detective Burke, stay out of this.” Okay, now Jack’s pissed.

“I’m just trying to keep my partner out of trouble.”

“Thank you for your concern, Detective. But I’ll take care of my partner. You didn’t even know Morgan three hours ago.”

“But now Morgan is my partner.”

“I’ll go find Matteo,” you throw in and move towards the door. Just so they both shut up.

“You’re not going AMA!”

Well, it seems both your partners found something they agree on. Fuckers.

“No, I’m getting the IV, pain meds, an X-ray and preferably another doctor to sign me out. Then I’ll decide which of you I need to get rid of first.”

Stunned silence follows you, as you pass Jack and then Burke.

Mateo makes no production out of you taking your treatment now. He even gets you an ice-pack and chauffeurs you to radiology. On the way back down the pain meds kick in and you relax a bit. You get put into South 1, where you doze off on the bed.

When you wake up from your nap – Burke has taken up residence in a chair beside your bed. And Jack is looking at you with a small smile on his lips.

“You have not managed to crack a rib. Your labs are fine and your stats have come up. It seems your pain made you restrict your breathing.” He gives you a stern look at that.

“So, I can go back to work?”

“You can go back to your desk – as can your work-partner. He got grazed but should be fine, unless the wound gets infected. You should take some naproxen in a few hours. But stay within the normal range. Take it easy until I get you back. And you’ll take ten slow deep breaths every single hour. I don't care if it hurts. Your lungs need it.”

“Ugh, Shepherd I can feel the love.”

“And next time I want to know the second something big hits your radar. Not three hours later because you got shot with your new work-partner.” He narrows his eyes at Burke, “If you even think about making a move on him – you better never need to come back here. We won’t let you die – but that’s as far as our oath goes.”

Burke swallows, “I swear my intentions toward Morgan are purely professional.”

“Keep it that way.” And on that note Jack hands you both your discharge papers.

Your Chevy has been dropped off at PTMC by patrol. So, Burke accepts the keys from Dana and you head back to the station. Close to midnight the traffic is light and the cold keeps most of the nightcrawlers inside. You try to turn on the radio – no success. Hm, you thought Sergeant Wolf liked you.

Five minutes into the drive the detective asks, “Are you going by Heron or Raccoon?”

“Neither.”

“Fine, Raccoon it is. You’re definitely a trouble maker.”

“Are you trying to piss off my partner? Or just jealous you don’t have a nickname, Duck?”

“Both your partners calling you by the same name sounds less confusing. And it’s Ryan.”

“Noted, Duck.”

 At the district you’ve barely been greeted by the aroma of stale coffee and floor cleaner when Sergeant Wolf calls you over, “Morgan, Burke, Captain wants to see you both – now!”

You both exchange a look. Ryan shrugs and turns toward the stairs – you trot after him. After a short knock to the open office door, you enter.

“Close the door.”

Oh, oh. You gently shut it and take the discharge paperwork to the captain’s desk. Only there’s really nowhere to put it. The desk isn’t chaotic. Everything sits in neat piles. There are just a lot of them.  Captain Mason takes the papers from you and places them on top of his overflowing inbox.

“Detective Burke, Officer Morgan, what brought you to warehouse 11?”

Before Ryan can put his foot in his mouth, you answer, “Captain, the package Fernandez sent me had wrapping paper from Cheeks and cocaine residue inside. Warehouse 11 is reportedly used by Cheeks. We wanted to confirm that and take a look.”

“A look that put you in the middle of a drug delivery. Based on wrapping paper?”

This time you’re not fast enough to intercept Ryan, “And the fact that Fernandez was there every week for about an hour according to the tracker she carried.”

“What tracker?”

Internally sighing you drop the bomb, “The tracker I found during the second search at PTMC. I handed it to Mr. Adler for analysis. He managed to decrypt it and extract Fernandez’s whereabouts.”

“There was no tracker in the evidence logs from the raid.”

“That’s correct, Sir. The tracker and the knives went into the evidence log associated with the assault.”

“I personally requested all evidence connected to the raid from Adler!”

“Well, Mr. Adler may have misunderstood you, Sir,” you try to mitigate the fallout for Micki.

“Michael Adler is one of the smartest people in this building! If he misunderstood me, he did that on purpose. Damn tech goblin can’t keep his hands off puzzles,” the captain explodes. Then he rubs his forehead and mutters, “The FBI is not going to be happy about any of this.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. What does the FBI have to do with this?”

"Go ask the FBI. The Harrison field office. SSA Mallard Gibson. And while you’re there apologize for interfering with their investigation." After that statement Captain Mason points to the door. You’re dismissed and leave his office quietly.

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next

This is the SFW adaptation of the original Between Always and Never series posted on my main blog. The original version contains explicit sexual content and additional intimate scenes. Storyline, character dynamics and overarching plot remain consistent between both versions.

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

No Excuse This Time

Fandom: Chicago Fire (TV) - early season 2

Featuring: Matthew Casey, fem!reader, Kelly Severide, Christopher Herrmann, Wallace Boden, Firehouse 51 ensemble

Warnings: the whole station meddling, idiots in love

This time you really have no excuse. Matt didn’t even ask you to do this. But the thing is, he’s Matt now. Your Matt – in your mind at least. It’s been six months since the almost kiss on New Year’s Eve. And you’re still... friends. And because your FRIEND Matt is working on the 4th of July with his men, you decided to take charge of the catering.

On a normal day they find the time to cook and sit down to eat. Today that is unlikely. Since human beings take any excuse – and preferably holidays – to turn off half their brain. With a sigh you get out of Matt’s truck and grab the first cooler along with a box of sports drinks.

You’re about 20 feet from the bay door when Herrmann hollers, “Casey! Your girlfriend is feeding us again!”

The heat spreads all the way down the neckline of your summer dress. In Herrmann’s defence though – he, Cruz and Otis immediately get up to help unload the truck. It looks as if you interrupted them checking gear after a call. You enter the common room and nearly collide with Matt. He grabs your arms and takes a quick step back.

“Hey. So, that’s what you needed my truck for. You’re feeding us – again.”

Before you can summon a protest, he’s taken the cooler and the drink box from you and carried them over to the kitchen counter.

“Well, I figured you’d be busy on the 4th of July.”

“Yeah, we usually are. And with the heat we’ll get even more calls.”

The others bolt through the door, loaded with more supplies. Herrmann looks at you, “You mind setting up a quick lunch? We just came back and still have to put the truck back in order.”

You smile, “That’s what I’m here for.”

“So, would you go out with me?” that’s Kelly’s voice from behind you.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Until now I thought you just kept bringing food to have an excuse to see Casey. But if you’re not – I’d never turn down a pretty lady.”

“Well, tough luck, Kelly. I’m not even remotely interested,” you latch onto the second half of his statement.

Any possible answer is cut off by the next alarm.

For the next seven hours the guys come in, grab something to drink, take a quick bite and the next alarm sounds. They’re even splitting between who checks over the truck and who takes a short break. By the time the sun finally sets, they resemble a group of grouchy, sweat-soaked, exhausted gremlins.

The Gremlins have polished off the food and the drinks you brought for lunch and dinner by six. So, you make a resupply run to the store. When Chief Boden notices the bags and boxes, he comes over to where you’re prepping the next batch of meat filled pastries.

“Hand me the receipt, please.”

“Ugh, that’s really not necessary, Chief.”

He looks at you, “I say it is.”

You hand the receipt over and he hands you twice the amount. Apparently, he’s decided to fully financially cover the holiday catering. Given your mortgage, you say, “Thank you, Chief.”

Waving you off, he takes one of the muffins you brought.

You snuck onto the roof as the fireworks started and enjoyed watching them illuminate the skyline. The guys are still out on a call, probably because of fireworks. Which makes you like the colourful spectacle in front of you a little less. You sincerely hope people finally go to bed or at least stop doing dangerous nonsense.

It’s close to eleven by the time the calls have stopped somewhat. The gremlins get to shower and emerge as very tired, freshly dressed firemen. This time everyone gets to sit around the table and demolish the leftovers as a late-night dinner.

You’re mentally calculating the time it’ll take you to finish cleaning the kitchen and storing the rest. Your eyes are starting to burn and your feet hurt. In the quiet at the table Kelly speaks up, “Casey, get your woman to bed. She’s asleep just sitting there. We’ll take care of the kitchen.”

You blink, “What!?”

Matt looks at you, “Kelly is right, you’re dead on your feet. Do me a favour and lie down in my quarters. You shouldn’t drive home like this.”

You huff and go to lie down. You’re lacking the energy to argue.

Waking up, you nearly fall out of the bed as you try to turn over. Huh. Also, the blanket is only a sheet. But the pillow smells nice. Wait... the pillow smells like Matt?! Right. Alright. You went to bed in Matt’s quarters. Because you were exhausted. But where did your poor man sleep then?

You push off the blanket, get up and remake the bed. You look at your phone to check the time. The screen is black. Yeah, you didn’t charge it at all yesterday. There’s a gentle tap on the door window.

“Come in.”

Matt smiles at you, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Ready to head home? The guys packed the truck so I can drop you off at home.”

“Yes, thank you.” You follow him out into the dormitory.

Matt turns. “For what? You were the one who cooked and catered to the whole house for hours on end on a holiday.”

You shake your head. “You were working – on a holiday.”

You both have reached the bay where everybody is lingering. It’s like they’re waiting for something. Then Herrmann calls out, "For God's sake, get married already."

You stare at him, "We're not even dating."

A chorus of voices answers, “That's the problem.”

Followed by Herrmann adding, “Casey, have mercy on the poor woman and ask her out already.”

While Matt replies, “Herrmann, stay out of it.”

You hurry out the bay in the direction of Matt’s truck. Matt doesn’t unlock it immediately after he catches up. Instead, he leans over the truck bed in the early morning light and looks at you. "Would you like to?"

“Like to what?” you shoot back irritated.

“Go out with me,” Matt clarifies.

You take a breath and grip the door handle tighter, yet your answer comes out as a quiet huff, “Yes, please.”

This is the official companion to No Resolutions for New Year's Eve

Hence these idiots wouldn't leave Herrmann, Kelly, or me alone.

My contribution to the 4th of July celebrations of 2026. Happy holiday, dear readers across the pond!

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

Herrmann calls you Matt's girlfriend. Kelly asks you out. And Matt? He lets you sleep in his bed. Because you're his FRIEND!

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

🗳️ Voting Time!

Five weeks. Five contenders. Ten pitches.

Now it's your turn.

Here are the contenders one last time before you cast your vote. Need a refresher? Click the First or Second Pitch Link for each series.

Which series do you want me to write next?

#1 Spot On - Jay Halsted/'Mouse' Gerwitz & You

#2 What Counts - John Wick & You

#3 Matches - Dr. John Cater & You

#4 Adults are Stupid! - Eddie Diaz/Evan Buckley/Chrstiopher

#5 Natural Order - Sam & Dean Winchester

Voting ended onAug 14

#1 – Spot On First Pitch | Second Pitch

#2 – What Counts First Pitch | Second Pitch

#3 – Matches First Pitch | Second Pitch

#4 - Adults are Stupid! First Pitch | Second Pitch

#5 – Natural Order First Pitch | Second Pitch

Which story would you like to see join the regular posting schedule?

The winner joins the regular posting schedule with a new chapter every two weeks, beginning Tuesday, August 18th.

And yes—I really can start that quickly. Every first chapter is already written. I wanted the teaser excerpts to come from actual chapters instead of writing promotional snippets I'd have to squeeze into the story later.

Since nobody adopted the Wild Card... I resurrected a monster instead.

Deal with it. 😄

Most importantly: Have fun.

I certainly did while putting this whole tournament together.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

Round 5 - Second Pitch - Natural Order

You had your chance to hand in ideas.

You did not.

So, I'm putting Dean and Sam on the Spot.

Between a dealy mystery and a monster that has already killed one man.

Between hunting alone and cooperating with the FBI.

Between old acquaintances and new enemies.

Between modern medecin and old lore.

Sometimes intent is everything.

And this time not all quotes are from the first chapter.

contenderslist

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

12.5 Special Order

In a small professional clothing shop Sergeant Wolf puts a Pittsburgh Police uniform shirt and her badge on the counter and demands, “Explain this to me!”

The man in his fifties shrugs. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“Several things. One, this is a fully assembled uniform shirt with patches AND a name tag. Two, it was not issued to a Pittsburgh Police Officer. Three, it turned up in the possession of a cartel member. Four, it was then sent to the home address of Officer Morgan – MY officer.” She counts the points off on her fingers.

“Ugh. That’s... not good.”

“That’s your license unless you have one hell of an explanation.”

“Let me check my records.” He turns to the PC – types and frowns.

“Sergeant, this shirt was issued to the FBI.”

“Why? And who specifically was it issued to?”

“A Special Agent Callahan and he provided forms – stating it was for some undercover operation.”

“I want a copy of those forms, Mr. Beagle.”

Mr. Beagle nods and steps into the back office. He returns with two forms and places both on the wooden counter. “How did a uniform shirt issued to the FBI end up with the cartel? I don’t get it.”

Sergeant Wolf studies both forms for several seconds before saying quietly, "I'll find out. Did Special Agent Callahan show you his badge?”

“Of course.”

“Did you call the field office?”

“Ugh, no. I didn't know I was supposed to and the forms were correct.”

She nods once. "Not your fault. Have a good day."

“You too, Sergeant.”

masterlist

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

Comments and asks are welcome.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

One Dunkin Cup

Your first night shift as a trainee nurse at PTMC, you bring your dinner shake in a Dunkin cup. Then you get distracted, and Shen and Ellis end up arguing.

warnings: Body image-based insult

‘You can do this. You’ve got the training. You’re capable.’ You kept repeating the lines in your head. But you’re still nervous. It’s your first day at PTMC as a trainee nurse on the night shift. Neither the Charge Nurse nor the Attendings were apparently happy about getting a trainee nurse on the night shift. You didn’t get the details – something about understaffing and lack of oversight was all you heard through the grapevine.

Heading straight for the uniform dispenser, you collect your scrubs and move to the locker room. Then you deposit your dinner consisting of a banana-chocolate protein shake in the fridge in the locker room.

Changed and still about half an hour early, you approach the hub and the thin blonde nurse behind it. You wait for her to look up, wish her a good evening, state your name and get to the point, “I’m the new trainee nurse for the night shift. Is Charge Nurse Handzo already in by chance?”

“No, kid, not yet. Probably in...,” she checks her watch. “20 minutes. I’m the day shift Charge Nurse Dana. I’ll give you a quick tour.”

“Thank you, Dana.”

 When Lena arrives, Dana introduces you and you get put with Senior Nurse Mateo. The reason? ‘No matter what admin thinks I don’t have the time for a trainee.’  You don’t get pulled into traumas, thankfully. As it is, halfway through your shift, your head is stuffed full with all the big and small details about this place. Supremely grateful for a break from the insanity, you grab your shake from the fridge. You take off the lid, add four ice cubes and put in a straw. After you’ve finished about half, Mateo sticks his head into the break room, “Sorry, we need you in North 15.”

You jump from the chair and follow him out. On the way you realise you’re still holding your half-full Dunkin Donut cup and put it behind the counter of the hub on your way past.

1 a.m. seems to be the time for people to go just a little crazy. You get thrown into two more cases and have almost forgotten about your half-finished dinner shake. When you get back to the hub to update Lena on your last case, you see one of the doctors with a Dunkin cup in his hand. You frown and remember your own is still behind the counter. The doc takes a sip, swallows, holds the cup away from him and shouts across the department, “Ellis! What have you done to my coffee!”

“Not a damn thing, you idiot!” Resident Ellis Parker yells back. You hurry over to the doc with your shake in his hand.

Unfortunately, he is not done accusing his colleague, “Don’t lie to me! I know you hate it!”

And Dr. Parker is still shooting back, “Whatever. It wasn’t me.”

You rush to cut the next exchange off, “I’m sorry, Doctor, I believe you grabbed my shake.”

“What?”

“I brought a banana-chocolate shake for dinner. In a Dunkin cup.”

He looks at the cup. “Why?”

“Sorry?”

“Why bring a shake in a Dunkin cup?”

“So, I don’t forget yet another shaker somewhere.”

“Ugh,” he groans. “I’m sorry. It looked exactly like my iced coffee.” And with that he hands you your shake.

“I’ll put my name on it next time, doctor.”

“You’re new here, right?” Shaking his head, he adds, “A name won’t help unless you write it on a big, fat, white piece of tape.”

“Well, big and fat shouldn’t be a problem for her,” a male patient about twice your age throws in.

“Thank you, Sir. For recognizing I have no intention to resemble a coat rack anytime soon.”

The man blinks, “Well, what’s your excuse for being fat then?”

“Choosing a stressful profession that sometimes includes abusive assholes and not resorting to smoking,” Charge Nurse Lena replies. She must have noticed the pack of cigarettes in his hand too.

“Smoking would keep you both a normal size at least.”

Lena shakes her head at him, “Not smoking gets us healthy, cancer-free lungs.”

The man swallows and the doc turns toward Lena. “I think he got your point.” Adding quietly, “And I just handed him a lung cancer diagnosis.”

You and Lena both fake a cough and you take a long sip from your shake. “Well, I think I can live with that.”

He looks at you, “And I think, you’ll fit right in here. I’m John Shen, by the way.”

Lena hands him a Dunkin cup, “And I believe that’s your coffee, Shen.”

His eyes light up as he takes it, “Thank you, Lena.”

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

“What?”

“I brought a banana-chocolate shake for dinner. In a Dunkin cup.”

He looks at the cup. “Why?”

“Sorry?”

“Why bring a shake in a Dunkin cup?”

“So, I don’t forget yet another shaker somewhere.”

In your defence, you had a perfectly logical reason...

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

Cap Holds The Floor

Characters: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch, Dana Evans, Med Student Reader (gn!reader)

summary: A fourth-year med student spends a shift shadowing Dr. Robby and begins to notice the system he built to keep both the ED—and himself—steady.

7:00 am

Nervous as all hell you approach the ED’s hub under the too bright lights. You were told by administration to check-in with the charge nurse Dana Evans. The AC is turned to the max—making you shudder. And all the sterile grey and white colours aren’t helping. You’ll have to grab your fleece later.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the charge nurse Dana Evans.”

The older blonde woman behind the counter looks at you, “You’ve found her, hon.”

“Morning Mrs. Evans. I’m the new med fourth year med student Baker.”

“It’s just Dana. And you’re with Dr. Robby today.”

She turns around to an older doctor, “Robby, that’s your little shadow for today,” pointing to you.

“Admin decided you’ll do orientation day for Baker.”

Dr. Robby sighs, “What a perfect way to start this shift.”

Looking at you, he adds, “Hi Baker, welcome to the Pitt. I’m Dr. Robinavitch, but please call me Dr. Robby. Let’s get you oriented.”

8.30 am

Your head is buzzing with information. Names of doctors and nurses, locations and patients are all fighting for a space in your short-term memory. Wait...that buzz isn’t in your head. It’s Dr. Robby’s smartwatch. He’s checking a chart, looking at his watch, closing his eyes and rolling his shoulders. Subconsciously you roll yours too. Uh, you hadn’t realised you were this tense.

11:00 am

Stepping out of another patient room with the attending, you release a breath. Sometimes the system just plain sucked. Dr. Robby adjusts his stethoscope—by taking it off his neck, looking at it and placing it back. Thinking about it, you saw him do this after leaving every patient room.

Then he heads for the hub, where he and Dana are going over the current patients. Who waits on what, who can go home and free up a bed.

“Buzz, buzz.” It’s the watch again. Dr. Robby grabs a chart from the holder and moves his head from shoulder to shoulder then up and down. Okay...? You had heard of alarms that reminded you to move or drink water. But what was this for?

12:30 pm

“Fair warning people, we have officially passed the 90 °F mark just now,” Dana informs everyone.

“Okay, let’s set North 5 up as your cooling area, now. Baker, give Jesse a hand,” Dr. Robby directs.

A second later his watch lights up again. He heads towards the staff lounge. While you walk over to Senior Nurse Jesse, who indicates for you to follow him to the supply closet.

“Betting board’s open,” Armard announces.

“A betting board? On what?” you ask Jesse.

“Number of heat patients we’re gonna get and their condition,” he informs you.

“You seriously bet on patients?”

“Patient numbers and conditions not outcomes. That would be immoral.”

“Good to know.” Interesting distinction, you still aren’t gonna place a bet.

1:00 pm

After you’re done setting up the cooling area you go head into the staff room. Your water bottle needs a refill. Dr. Robby is sitting at the table jotting down notes into a small notebook.

“Oh, are those for patients?”

He looks up clearly surprised and nods, adding, “And all the other things that keep me busy.”

Closing the notebook he says, “Let’s see what Dana’s got for me now.”

You head over to the hub. Jesse is on the phone holding one ear, while a stretcher is being pushed by. Then Langdon notices Dr. Robby.

“Robby, there’s...”

“Ah there you are...”

“Dr. Robby, can you...”

“I need you for...”

Dr. Robby holds up his hands as he is greeted with a cacophony of simultaneous request. He takes a sip of water with his eyes closed, while waiting for people to pause themselves.

“One at a time, please. Dana?”

“Three MVA patients five minutes out, at least one critical.”

“Whitaker?”

“I need a second opinion on Mrs. Lafayette. I’ve run out of options.”

“Grab Langdon.”

“Santos?”

“I need you to sign off on the transfer for Mr. Rocker.” She’s holding out the tablet, he signs.

“Dr. King?”

“My patient Mr. White is refusing to be treated by any female staff.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Tell him, that’s his right. But he’ll have to find another hospital, as we can’t accommodate his request. For now, you’re with me on the incoming.”

And you walk towards the bay.

2:00 pm

You’re leaving trauma 1 beside Dr. Robby after the last of MVA patients is stabilized. Unfortunately, in the case of the elderly man—stabilized means comatose without a clear prognosis. There’s a faint murmur coming from him, “My hands, my watch, the sleeves of my shirt, the tiles on the floor, my shoes, the drift of air, the sweat on my back...”

You nearly stop mid step when you realise, he is practicing a grounding technique. That one you have been taught at the VA—in case a patient has a PTSD attack. So, not the time to ask though.

Now, his watch is lighting up. He turns to you, “Excuse me for a moment.”

And walks away towards the stairs.

3:00 pm

“Hey Baker! Where is Cap?” Dana asks you.

“Towards the stairs. He said, he’d be back in a minute.”

She nods and heads that way. Shortly after she comes back with Dr. Robby, who waves you to follow them. At the hub he claps his hands loudly.

“Listen up, we’re about to get slammed. A wedding party of 100 reported signs of food poisoning.”

Groans and headshaking all around.

He adjusts his posture by squaring his shoulders and planting his feet hip-width apart. Before continuing, “We’ll probably get about half. And the waiting room is already packed. So, get everyone out of here if possible. Be quick, be efficient.”

Dana hands him the stack of charts for releases to review. While he looks them over, you notice him take deliberate breaths. Inhale, hold, exhale, hold each for the same amount of time. Wow, the man seems to have a stack of tools for managing days like today. If the Pitt is always this crazy maybe you should phone your VA buddies and get some for yourself.

4:30 pm

Dr. Robby’s watch lights up as you’re leaving the now filled up cooling area with him. He shakes his head and places a hand flat against the wall for probably five seconds. Then he resumes walking towards the South hallway, where the food poisoning patients are stacked.

He has just started checking in with Dr. King, when Jesse interrupts, “Incoming cardiac arrest.”

“Got it,” Dr. Robby answers.

You see him brushing his thumb across the textured edge of his ID badge, while he finishes giving out treatment orders for the dehydrated wedding guests.

Then, you’re back in trauma 2. Student doctors Kwon and Ogilvie are working with Dr. Whitaker on the cardiac arrest. They try one thing after another. But the monitors beeping are interrupted only by the charging and discharging of the defibrillator. When the student doctors start an argument Dr. Robby touches each finger to his thumb while moving his lips.

He speaks up a moment later, “This is not the time nor place to trump out the competition student doctors. We just lost a patient. I’ll be back in five to do a debrief.”

5:00

Like a duckling you follow him outside to the ambulance bay. You see him setting a timer, before sitting down on the curb—putting his head in his hands.

As the times goes off, he stands up and heads back inside.

When he uses the hand sanitizer, you can hear him whisper "this is now, not then".

6:00 pm

“And Dana takes the poll,” Armand announces to a chorus of reactions.

“Really?”

“Again?”

“Should’ve seen it coming.”

“Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve, Langdon. Hand me my money, Armand.”

You shake your head at the scene, as you feel a hand on your shoulder. It’s Dr. Robby.

“So, how did you like your first shift here?”

“It was...informative and very busy.”

“There sure isn’t a boring day around here. So, you’re not running for the hills?”

“Not yet, Dr. Robby.” You give him a smirk and he waves you off,

while his watch lights up.

This story was meant to be a mirror story for Mandatory. And now—

I want to build a world where those who save others actually learn to save themselves.

Welcome to In/Sane — a The Pitt AU.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

The Pitt is often busy, sometimes downright insane. So how does its Cap keep the floor steady?

With lots of tiny course corrections.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

Round 5 - First Ptich - Natural Order

“Swefnweard!”

“What?” Dean looks at his brother as if to check Sam’s state of mind.

“Swefnweard interacts with sleepers.”

“Who is that?” His brows furrow.

“The Dream Guardian from Sleepy Eye.” Sam shrugs.

“No. Absolutely not!” At Dean’s exclamation the waitress shots them a look.

“Dean, no one knows what’s even happening to these people.” His brother’s voice is quiet and urgent.

“And you don’t know if this particular monster can help. And why would it?” Dean hisses.

“Because he wants... me. And I want answers.” Another shrug.

“Sam! These people dropped into comas. They’re not sleeping.”

“You don’t know that.”

The faux-leather of the bench squeaks as Dean leans forward. “Forget it. You’re not going back! Not to this manipulative bastard.”

“Dean,... ” Sam sighs.

“I said ‘no’.”

For those with the same memory problems as Dean. There was once a mini-series called Sleepy Eye.

And I created a monster. I enjoyed being it. So, IT IS BACK!

Dean's a big boy - he can take it.

contenderslist

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

Details Matter

Pairing / Character(s): Dr. Jack Abbot x GN!reader

"Let's ask the neighbors," seemed like a reasonable plan. It was. The neighbors just weren't there.

warnings: police procedural nonsense, gun violence, mild injuries

Det. Burke stops halfway down the stairs to ‘The Underbelly’ staring at the note. You turn around, noticing the original print out: ‘Maintenance has been notified.’ with the handwritten addition of: ‘The light fixture has been ordered.’ has been joined by a post it: ‘Delivery date = probably before Easter.’ Shaking your head you take the last couple of steps and open the door to Micki’s office, holding it for Det. Burke.

You take one look at Micki’s desk – identifying three different takeout containers in varying states of emptiness and at least five empty energy drink cans. “Fuck.”

Your new partner gives you a questioning look, while you dig the naproxen blister out of the pouch on your belt. You head back out of the cramped space and grab two water bottles from under the stairs. Det. Burke holds the door open and watches you. When you’re back in the tiny room, you carefully press the intercom button down and speak in a low, soft voice, “Micki Mouse? Can you come to the front, please?”

“I assume that’s not his name?”

“No, his name is Michael “Micki” Adler.”

“So, you do remember, Heron.”

“Of course, Micki. Micki, this is my new partner Det. Ryan Burke.”

“I heard. Detective, you will keep your hands off my heron. He and his ED doc are going somewhere. Copy?”

Det. Burke tosses his coffee cup in the trash, before replying “Copy.”

You hand Micki one open bottle and put the other in his inbox, ordering, “Finish it.”

He huffs but empties half of it, before holding out his open hand. You press two pills from the blister into it. He takes them with the rest of the water.

“You’ve one hour to finish up here. Then I’m snitching to Wolf.”

Mick grumbles, “I love you too. And I cracked the tracker.”

“Wow! Could you update us on the package first?”

“Package was dropped off by Colleen Fernandez yesterday morning. Dr. Sidle found cocaine residue from Colombia and wrapping paper from Cheeks.”

“And the shirt?”

“No, reported thefts. Wolf is on that.”

“What tracker were you talking about earlier Mr. Adler?”

“The one that Heron here found on Fernandez when searching her at PTMC the second time.”

“Captain Mason told me he had collected all evidence connected to this case?”

“He asked me for the evidence from the raid. Which I handed over. The tracker is from PTMC. That’s a different case.”

Det. Burke rubs his head, “I’m not going to argue that. Not my horse – not my saddle. So, what do you mean you cracked it?”

“I broke the encryption – with a little help. It was an NSA standard. Making that fucker a US-native from either the FBI, CIA or the NSA. But my money would be on the FBI, cause it was a standard.”

“And what did you find?”

“A complete movement profile with GPS locations since January 4th.”

“Anything interesting?”

“She visited warehouse 11 about every week for about an hour. According to Duquesne Light Company’s records electric bills for that warehouse are paid by Cheeks.”

“You subpoenaed them already?” Det. Burke looks impressed.

“I looked at their records.”

“Thank you Micki. You’re amazing. Now, finish up AND sleep at least six hours.” You herd your new partner out of Micki’s presence before your friend can drop any more bombs.

Burke turns to you, “We’ll have to verify Cheeks’ connection to the building legally before we can do anything else.”

“Let’s ask the neighbors.”

Standing in front of your locker after switching into plain clothes, you consider if you should put on your vest. Then, you imagine Jack’s face if you skip the vest and end up with even a graze. You’d never hear the end of it. Besides it is winter. Under your jacket no one is going to notice it.

Out in the dark, cold lot the plain vehicle turns out to be a Chevy Impala. You head for the driver’s side on autopilot.

“I’ll drive,” Burke informs you.

He outranks you and didn’t dig into how Micki got the information – so you change course and get into the passenger seat. The detective starts the car, asking “You expecting trouble?”

“No, why?”

“The vest.”

You shake your head, “Sensitive boyfriend – who I can’t hide even minor injuries from.”

 Your new partner snorts and you spend the half an hour drive bringing each other up to speed on the case.

Burke parks the Chevy a block down from the Cheeks warehouse and you both get out and start looking around. The area seems deserted. Streetlights illuminate brick facades and metal rolling doors. A white delivery van drives past you, but there are no other vehicles on the street. Neither the warehouse to the right nor the one to the left have any visible cameras and there are no watchmen in sight.

You look at Burke, “No watchmen, no dogs, no cameras on surrounding properties – that I can make out.”

He nods, “We’ll take a quick look at warehouse 11 itself. It’s only 20:00 maybe someone is working late.”

When you round the corner, you see the van from earlier – parked at the loading dock. Someone inside throws packages at the guy on the ramp, who passes them on to someone deeper inside the building. A third man in a leather jacket is leaning against the side of the van.

A loud thud as a parcel hits the ground. The cardboard tears at one corner and a fine white dust cloud surrounds the package in the floodlights.

You look at Burke mentally calculating how to best retreat quietly, when you see someone approaching from behind.

“Ey! Quiénes son?” gets yelled at you. After a decade on the force, you understand enough Spanish to get that he wants to know who you are.

Turning fully, you show him your hands at hip height. Before you can get a word out Burke shoves you toward the opposite side of the loading dock. You hear a gunshot and shouting behind you.

Half stumbling, half being dragged by your vest – you press the radio button. “David Twelve! Shots fired! Plainclothes officers taking fire! Warehouse 11, Homewood! Two officers, repeat, two plainclothes officers!”

Burke shouts, “Pittsburgh Police! Cease fire! Pittsburgh Police! Cease fire!”

You duck behind the concrete edge and peer over Burke’s shoulder – who is already returning fire. Before you can get your gun out, he advises you, “Radio EMT. I caught a graze.”

You focus on your radio, calling out "Officer down! Need EMS! At least five suspects! Send backup! Plainclothes officers on scene!"

The gunfire ceases. A voice issues commands in Spanish. Something along the lines of stop shooting idiots, pack up you morons, get out of here, don’t forget the product.

Burke asks, “You still got the camera?”

And true enough the camera bag is still dangling in front of you. You take it out and hand it over. As you calm down your right side starts to throb. You carefully push a hand under the side of your vest. It comes back dry but you can feel a dent in the vest. Just great. Maybe you can make it to Westbridge instead of PTMC?

Well, that hope goes to hell as soon as Captain Mason arrives and you finish reporting to him.

“You two head to PTMC, now. The ambulance can take you. Patrol will take care of your vehicle.”

And just like that you’re ushered over to the EMTs by your partner. You both get checked over and loaded up. It’s barely two hours into your shift and all you want is your couch and some mindless zoo documentary. The only silver lining is the ambulance doesn’t use hazard lights. Maybe you can bribe Lena and be seen by a resident?

At PTMC you snatch the clipboard from the EMT and shout “Thanks for the ride!” over your shoulder. You jump out of the ambulance and march through the bay doors, heading for the hub. Trying to look like you can breathe and move perfectly fine under the bright overhead lights. Putting on your most charming smile you look at Lena and open your mouth...

“What are you doing here? And why are you not in uniform?”

You turn to face Jack, who notices the clipboard in your hand and immediately takes possession of it.

“I got assigned to homicide. The case kind of... escalated.”

“Escalated? Homicide? Who’s dead? And you got hit???”

“The women from two days ago. And the vest got hit.”

Jack looks wordlessly at Lena.

“Trauma 1 is free.”

“Maybe you should look at Burke first? He got grazed.”

“What?”

“I’m sure another doctor can check me out,” you hear Burke’s voice from your left.

“Check you out? Hm. I think you mean over.” And that dry statement belongs to Dr. John Shen, at whom your new partner is currently staring.

“Well... Jack, meet my new partner. Fuck. Work partner – I mean – of course. Detective Ryan Burke. Det. Burke meet my partner Dr. Jack Abbot.”

“I think you can call me Ryan now, Morgan.”

“I’ll get back to you later Detective. Shen check him OVER. Nice try, raccoon.” And just like that Jack takes your left elbow and moves you in the direction of Trauma 1. This time there is chuckling and laughter behind you. You nearly stumble. Fuck you’re tired. And hurt. And tired. And...

↩︎ Masterlist · ← Previous → Next (coming August 9th)

This is the SFW adaptation of the original Between Always and Never series posted on my main blog. The original version contains explicit sexual content and additional intimate scenes. Storyline, character dynamics and overarching plot remain consistent between both versions.

All headers and dividers used in this series were created by me. Please don’t repost or reuse without permission.

[campfire-chronicles-sfw]

You look at Burke. “No watchmen, no dogs, no cameras on surrounding properties—that I can make out.”

He nods. “We’ll take a quick look at Warehouse 11 itself. It’s only 20:00. Maybe someone is working late.”

Well, someone is. Unfortunately.