(Forever) To See Where You Land II
Chapter 2
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Michael Robinavitch x f!Reader
Series Description: Jack Abbot and Michael Robinavitch are your soulmates, but you're not going to let them find that out. Eight months and one hit and run later, they might have some opinions about that.
Tags/Warnings: A/B/O, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury (Reader gets in a car crash) Significant Age Difference (40s/50s with 20s), Reader is a psych nurse who works in the pitt, Jack and Robby are in an established relationship, both Jack and Robby go a bit feral in this chapter
Wordcount: 7.8k
Author's Note: I can't quite believe how well this story has done- thank you all so much for the comments and support, it's really helped motivate me. I really hope this lives up to yall's expectations- I'm very open to feedback!!! Also yes I'm back on nights that is the only reason I was able to find the time to edit this lol
Part 1 Part 2
Barely ten hours later, Jack found himself back in the Pitt, the smell of coffee and antiseptic stinging in his nose as he went to the nurses' desk to find Robby.
He'd slept better than he slept most days, lulled by the steady chatter of the police scanner. But no amount of sleep ever made up for the exhaustion that came from a job like this- exhaustion that had followed him from med school to the army all the way to now. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt rested- really, truly rested- but he'd learnt long ago how to function without it- how to push through the haze and focus on whatever was in front of him.
Like now. Finding his mate. Figuring out what fresh hell the night shift had in store for him.
He found Robby at the nursing station, leaning against the desk as he frowned down at the tablet in front of him. He looked tired, but not unusually so- just that familiar, soul-deep weariness that came with running an ER day in and day out. His glasses had slipped down his nose slightly, resting precariously against the bump where it had been broken one too many times, and Jack felt the brief, automatic urge to push them back into place, or smooth away the lines between his brows.
Instead, he just made his way over and settled himself next to Robby, bumping his shoulder.
"Evenin'," he greeted.
"Evening Jack," Robby replied, tilting his head to look down at him over the rim of his glasses, "Back so soon?"
"Oh, you know me," Jack said, "Can't stay away from this place."
Robby snorted softly and returned to his chart while Jack dropped his bag and leaned down onto the desk, resting on his forearms as he scanned the department.
"How's it been?"
Robby shrugged, still focused on the tablet. “There’s been more of that drug you mentioned. We managed to get a sample to the lab, but even they couldn’t tell us what it is. We do know it’s being cut with fentanyl - and it’s getting passed around like goddamn party favours.” He paused, and Jack glanced over. Robby had straightened slightly, rubbing at the back of his neck the way he always did when he was uncomfortable. "Had three fentanyl OD's this afternoon. Lost one of them."
Oh.
"How old?"
"Seventeen."
Oh.
"Shit," he murmured, leaning into Robby's space to try to catch his eye. Robby wouldn't meet it. "I'm sorry Mikey. That's never easy."
"Yeah, well-" Robby pushed off the desk and started walking, clearly unwilling to talk about it anymore. Jack let it go.
But Jack knew he'd take that death home with him, just as he'd taken every death home with him since he started this goddamn job- especially the kids. No matter what Robby told the residents, you never really got used to the ones you couldn’t save.
Especially the kids.
They walked in silence for a few moments before Robby started again.
"How d'you sleep?" he asked.
“Better than usual. Never enough.” Jack shrugged as they passed North 5. "But I'm ready to go."
Robby's mouth twitched in a half-smile. "You always are, brother."
They moved through the department, rounding informally as they went, checking in with residents and nurses in passing. It was the last hour of the day shift, and the ER had that familiar, slightly frantic edge to it- everyone pushing to wrap things up so they wouldn’t have to stay late. They would anyway. They always did.
As they walked, Jack found himself keeping an eye out for you. You were someone who liked to come in early, settling yourself before your shift officially started. More often than not, by this point, you’d be by the coffee machine in the break room, nursing a cup and trying to drag yourself awake. Jack liked those moments- the quiet, half-asleep conversations before the department tipped over into chaos. He wondered, absently, if he’d catch you there today, if he might get the chance to ask how you’d slept. He thought he’d like that.
"Looking for something?" Robby asked mildly, but with a slight twist to his mouth that betrayed his amusement.
"I'm… just seeing who's clocking in for overtime."
"Oh-hoh," Robby laughed, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were coming for my job, brother."
"Who says I'm not?" he shot back, nudging Robby's shoulder again.
Robby barked a laugh, glancing down at him with an easy, familiar fondness- finally meeting his eye again. "Have it. I'd like to see you and Gloria go head-to-head over schedules. Could get Ahmad to bet on that."
Jack grinned and shook his head. “Nah. I'll leave you to handle that particular nightmare."
"Mm-hm," Robby muttered, stepping aside to let a group of nurses rush past with a gurney. "Just one of my many talents." They walked a few more steps before he added, quieter, “She’ll be here.”
And there it was: that mutual understanding that existed when it came to you. Just a small thread in their bond, almost too fine to notice, but always present. Jack didn't need to respond. He just let it settle as it always did- understood, left alone, but never quite forgotten.
And then they moved on.
“So, we actually have some free beds,” Robby said, already shifting gears as he launched into handover.
Jack focused on listening, filing it all away into his tired mind: ICU full, no surprise there; two psych beds open upstairs; all ORs staffed and running. Trauma Bay One was closed for deep cleaning.
Just a normal Thursday.
But even as Robby finished handover and the clock hit 19:05, you still hadn't shown up.
Now that was unusual. You were always early- twenty minutes, minimum. Ten if something had gone wrong. Jack glanced around the nurses' station- although most nurses were handing over to their night shift counterparts, the day shift psych nurse was still sitting at her computer, typing something up- with no you.
Odd. He and Robby exchanged a look, then, without a word, started another slow pass through the department. Jack even ducked into the staff lounge for a coffee on the off chance you'd decided coffee was a necessity even if you were late, but there was no sign of you there either. By the time they circled back, the psych nurse was bundled into her winter coat, checking her watch with an impatient huff.
Still no you.
Robby had a slight downturn to his lips- not quite a frown, but approaching one.
"I wonder where she is." he commented, glancing around.
“Probably traffic,” Jack said, not believing it for a second. But if Robby worried, Robby would stay- and Robby needed to go home. Jack wasn’t about to let what was, realistically, probably nothing derail his mate's already fragile sleep schedule.
"You want me to-"
There it was.
"I want you to go home," Jack cut in.
"But if something's wrong-"
"It's probably nothing." Jack said firmly, "but I'll have Lena give her a call anyway."
Robby didn’t look convinced. His eyes drifted past Jack again, scanning the corridor like he might have missed something. It was that same stubborn streak- only this time it wasn’t just about the job. It was about you.
But Jack waited him out. He was good at that.
Slowly, reluctantly, Robby started pulling on his coat, packing his things away with the kind of deliberate delay that made Jack want to roll his eyes. Robby made a half-hearted attempt at conversation with a couple of nurses, but Jack glared at them until they left them both alone. Eventually, there was nothing left to stall over.
“You sure you don’t want me to stick around?” Robby tried, one last half-hearted attempt.
“Yes. I can’t remember the last time you left on time; let’s keep it that way.” Jack tipped his head toward the exit. “Go home, Mikey. Get some sleep.”
Robby hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. But call if you need anything.”
Jack gave his hand a quick squeeze, then watched him disappear down the hall. A little bit of his heart followed him out.
Jack let out a quiet breath, then turned his mind back to the situation. Shift to run, errant nurse to track down. He turned to Lena, who was already typing away at her computer at the centre of all the chaos of the nursing station. She glanced up as he approached, one eyebrow lifting.
“You heard from our favourite psych nurse?” Jack asked, keeping his tone deliberately casual. No need to cause panic.
Lena shook her head. “Nothing. Unlike her, isn't it?"
Jack frowned, trying to ignore the discomfort in his stomach. If something was wrong, Jack was sure you would've called in to let Lena know.
“Can you give her a buzz? See where she’s at?"
Lena nodded, already reaching for the phone. "Already on it," she smiled a little at Jack, "I'll track her down, Cap; don't worry."
Jack felt a brief, familiar flicker of relief. Lena was good- damn good- and fiercely protective of her nurses. If something was off, she’d get to the bottom of it.
She raised a second eyebrow at him.
Right. Shift to run.
He turned away to the group of night shifters who were gathering around for huddle. It was a good lineup tonight- Ellis and Toomarian on, Henderson as senior. With Lena running the floor, things were in good hands.
He got through huddle as quickly as possible, passing on all the little things he needed to have a functioning ER.
“Remember,” he said, the words automatic even as part of his mind stayed elsewhere, “trust your gut, and trust each other. We’ve got a good team tonight.”
A few nods- impatient more than anything. They wanted to get moving. Fair enough.
He wrapped it up quickly, watching them break and scatter, then lingered just long enough to make sure nothing immediately needed him.
Nothing did, so he made his way back to Lena.
19:25.
“Any luck?”
Lena shook her head, a faint crease forming between her brows as she wrote something down on a chart. For Lena, that was as close to concern as it got.
“Rings through. No answer.”
Jack winced, then pushed the reaction down. You'd probably slept through you alarm or something- wouldn't be the first time, wouldn't be the last.
And yet.
Just like the traffic excuse, something just didn't feel right.
“Keep trying,” he said. “And if you can’t get her, maybe try her flatmate. Hayley? Hazel?”
“Hannah,” Lena corrected immediately. “She brought in brownies from her that one night shift.” She flicked him a look over the top of her glasses. “Hey. You worry about your residents and I'll worry about my nurses, okay?"
Jack raised his hands in surrender, backing off with a huff of quiet amusement.
The night moved on from there.
EMTs burst through the doors not 5 minutes later, calling out stats as they wheeled in a trauma, and Jack snapped into motion. There was something almost comforting in it- the chaos, the immediacy. The world narrowed to vitals and interventions, to what was right in front of him. No space for unanswered calls when someone was bleeding out on your table.
They kept coming after that, one after another, the next hour blurring into a relentless sequence of controlled crisis. Stab wound. Car crash. Gunshot. Fast. Messy. Exactly the kind of work that demanded everything and left no room for anything else.
They came in fast and messy- just how he liked them. His residents were doing well tonight, and he felt a sense of satisfaction as he talked Toomarian through a tricky intubation.
The second he had a moment to breathe- 20:30- he went looking for Lena, lifting an eyebrow in question the moment he found her.
“Nothing,” she said immediately. Her expression had tightened. “Got hold of her flatmate. Said she left for work at the usual time. She should be here.”
Was it bad that Jack felt a grim sense of satisfaction that his gut feeling was correct? Maybe. Probably.
“If she’s not here in thirty minutes, we report her missing,” he said decisively. It might be early, but this didn’t add up- and it was cold as hell out there.
He wasn’t taking chances. He could see it in the way Lena's eyes kept darting to the door, could hear it in the hushed whispers of the other nurses as they worked around him.
You were well liked in the Pitt: funny, good at your job and fiercely protective of your fellow staff members. That you were missing was throwing them all off.
As Lena walked off, Jack took a moment to lean against the wall and just breathe. His leg was already starting to ache- too damn early in the shift for that- and his head felt crowded, thoughts slipping, again and again, back to you.
Damn it.
He dragged in a breath, then another, forcing himself- finally- to use the grounding exercises his therapist had been pushing on him for months. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Slow. Controlled.
It helped. Just enough that when Toomarian reappeared at his side, asking to present a case, Jack was able to turn back to the work with something like focus, locking onto it with the same single-minded intensity as before.
It lasted just long enough to feel stable.
"Jack!"
Lena’s voice cut through the department hard enough to snap his attention up. She was hurrying toward him, face pale in a way that immediately made something in his stomach tighten.
“What?” he asked instantly.
She swallowed, stopping just short of him. “Just got a call from EMT.”
That alone wasn’t unusual. The look on her face was.
Jack’s stomach dropped a fraction. “What is it?”
Lena hesitated- just long enough to matter- then forced the words out. “Hit-and-run. Downtown. Young woman. Police found her on the roadside- alone."
She didn’t say your name. She didn’t need to. Still, he needed to check.
"Did you get a description?"
She nodded. "It matches."
For a moment, everything tilted. The noise of the department seemed to fall away, narrowing down to that single point.
You.
Hurt.
Bad enough for an ambulance. Bad enough for Lena to look like that.
"ETA and status?" he got out, voice rough.
“Three minutes,” Lena said quickly. “GCS six. Multiple rib and limb fractures. Probable internal bleeding. Severely hypothermic-core temp eighty-five. She’s been down in the snow for two hours at least."
Two hours.
The number landed heavy, sickening in its weight. Two hours of lying on the freezing ground, bleeding and hurt and alone and waiting for help that never came- and he had been here, moving from patient to patient like it was any other shift.
It was horrible. It was cruel. And it was completely fucking unnecessary.
Rage rippled hot and sharp beneath his skin at the asshole who’d left you there like trash on the side of the road- he cut it off hard. There wasn’t time for this. Not now.
“Alright,” he managed through gritted teeth. “Let’s get ready. Trauma 2, full team. I want X-ray and CT standing by, O-neg on a rapid infuser. Full hypothermia protocol- Bair hugger and warm fluids ready. Page Garcia-tell her to be ready for the OR.”
Lena was already moving before he finished, shouting out orders. The department snapped into motion around them, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate: quieter, sharper. A colleague coming in like this was never just another case. This was one of their own.
Jack let himself notice for a full five seconds before he turned away, heading straight for the ambulance bay. The cold hit him the second he stepped outside, sharp enough to steal his breath, but he barely registered it through the adrenaline. His focus narrowed to the sound growing in the distance- a distant wail that gradually filled the space around him until it was all he could hear, echoing in time with the frantic beat of his own heart.
God, he needed to get it together.
He’d worked in war zones with less than this- less equipment, less backup, less time. He'd stood over bodies with nothing but his hands and his wits and whatever supplies he could scrounge up from the nearest wrecked vehicle. This was nothing new. And yet, none of it made a damn difference in this moment.
Even though he could only claim you as a colleague, maybe as a friend at most, he knew this bone-deep, visceral fear was far beyond what he'd feel for any other nurse. No, this fear was something he only ever felt for Robby.
And that scared him.
He tried the breathing again.
In. Hold. Out.
In. Hold. Out.
Come on, Abbot, just fucking breathe. Don't think about the woman lying in the cold, scared and alone while blood leeches into the snow around her. Don't think about her blue lips and shallow breaths or the way she might have reached out, hoping someone would see her. Don't think-
It wasn't working. Panic was crawling up his throat, sharp and paralysing, the kind he hadn't felt since the desert, since the roadside where everything fell apart. His mind flashed with images that didn't belong there but felt terrifyingly real: your face pale and bloodless, your body crumpled and still against the cold ground.
That was when his army instincts kicked in- a soldier's response that came too late for himself but just in time for you. He shut it down. Whatever his mind was reaching for- fear, rage, something softer, more dangerous- he pushed it into a locked box he'd built years ago in a place that had been hotter, louder, dustier and just as unforgiving. He would feel it all later. If later came at all.
Instead, he forced his focus back where it belonged, to the medicine, running protocols in his head- hypothermia, massive transfusion, TBI management- lining everything up so there would be no hesitation when you came through those doors.
Seconds stretched, but he counted them anyway, steadying his breathing, locking himself into the rhythm of it.
Then the sirens screamed, and the ambulance burst through the bay in a spray of snow and gravel. Before the doors had even opened, Jack was moving forward, eyes locked on the rear of the vehicle, already taking you in.
"Female," the paramedic called out, half-barking as they rolled you off the ambulance, "approximate age thirty, found in roadway. Hit-and-run driver unknown. No ID on scene. BP 70/30, heart rate 110, o2 sat 85 on fifteen litres. GCS six. Pupils unequal, sluggish. Abdomen’s rigid- we’re thinking splenic rupture. Uneven chest movements. Multiple fractures, ribs and all four limbs. Core temp 86 now- we've been trying to warm her up, but it's slow going."
Yeah, he could fucking feel that as he reached for your wrist to check the radial pulse, which was weak, fast and thready. Your skin was ice cold, waxy and pale. Blood had soaked through the blankets they'd wrapped around you, seeping out and dripping onto the gurney as they moved you from the rig. Jack risked a glance at your face- slack, unresponsive, blood matted in your hair- and some part of him just cracked at the sight. He tightened his grip for just a second, forcing himself to feel the pulse beneath his fingers as a sign that you were alive- then he let go.
"What's the drip?" He kept his voice steady, sharp, clinical- all he could afford to be right now.
"Warm saline, wide open. We've given two units O-neg too but her blood pressure's still tanking."
"Why didn't you intubate?"
"Tried," the paramedic grunted. "Jaw's too stiff from hypothermia."
Jack nodded, already adjusting the plan in his head as they started moving inside.
“Trauma Two,” he called, “Let’s move.”
The team was already waiting as they rolled you through the doors, swarming in from all sides with practiced speed. He noticed Garcia somehow already standing by, and he nodded to her gratefully as he took his place as trauma lead.
“Alright, let’s get those clothes off. Full head-to-toe. EFAST now. I want cross-matched blood started immediately- Ellis, start a central. Lindsey get the rapid warmer going- let's push some heat into her.”
Everyone moved in unison, cutting away your clothes with practiced speed as the gurney locked into place. As more of you were revealed, Jack’s stomach clenched even harder.
Deep purple bruises flowered across your ribs, your limbs twisted unnaturally, the breaks clear and ugly even before X-ray. Your skin was too pale, your breathing laboured and shallow- the left side of your chest barely moving. Your abdomen was distended- he probed it tentatively, feeling the firmness underneath that screamed internal bleed. Broken ribs on both sides.
"Alright, watch the chest wall," he called to the team, "ribs are shattered. We could puncture a lung just looking at her wrong."
He kept scanning your body- noting the way your head lolled too loosely to one side, the unnatural angle of your right arm. He reached for your face, tilting your head back slightly to check your airway, to see if anything obstructed it, but his breath caught for half a second as he found himself looking down at you properly.
He'd grown used to seeing you at work- composed, smart and always a little amused behind that dry wit of yours. But this? You were reduced to this: cold and broken beneath him. The image burned itself into his memory, raw and vivid in a way that made his chest ache.
It was too close. Too much.
Jack forced himself to look away, blinking hard to clear his head. He found Lena at the end of the gurney, her eyes wide with worry as she glanced up at him.
He nodded once, tightly, then lifted his voice again.
"EFAST now- let's see how much blood we're dealing with. I want a chest tube on the left and I want to get her intubated before she drops any further- but watch the jaw, they couldn't get it in the field."
"Abbot," Ellis said, standing ready with a central line kit, "There's a soulmark cover. I need it off for the central line."
"Scent blocker too," Lena cut in from the head of the table, where she was holding your head steady, "You need it off?"
Jack hesitated, but only for a second.
"Yes," he said quickly, hating the word even as it left his mouth. "Get 'em both off."
Soulmarks and scent were private, intimate- and exposing yours in front of the whole trauma team felt wrong on a level that made his skin crawl. But there wasn't a choice. He needed access, and he needed to know what they were dealing with- even if that meant watching them peel back your most vulnerable secrets under the glaring lights of the trauma bay.
He saw Lena nod, her fingers quick as she peeled the covering away and then ripped the scent blocker off.
The effect was immediate. The scent hit him like a physical force- sharp, acrid, saturated with fear. Omega. Distressed, hurt, scared omega.
Jack’s breath caught hard in his chest as something instinctive surged up- hot, violent and utterly irrational. Someone had hurt you. Broken you. Left you out there to die.
The urge to tear something apart flared fast and bright. For a half second, he felt himself slip and then he wrenched it back, forced himself to focus.
Around him, the room had fallen into a hush, and Jack opened his eyes to find everyone frozen- Ellis with the ultrasound raised mid-air, other members stopped in motion, staring in shock. He glanced down, following their eyes.
And everything stopped.
Because there, staring up at him from your chest was a mark. Robby's mark. His mark. The one Robby had touched so many times, kissed and traced in the privacy of their bed, thinking it was just theirs- but there it was, stark against your skin for everyone to see. Identical in every way.
Time seemed to fracture. Jack felt the ground tilt beneath as sound became a useless, broken thing. Someone let out a shaky breath; another cursed under their breath- low and sharp. His own pulse roared in his ears.
Soulmate. You were his soulmate.
And he hadn't known. He hadn't- fuck. He had no idea.
In the space of half a second, he went from fear to disbelief, then straight into an all-consuming panic that tore through him with the force of a goddamn freight train. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. All he could see was you- broken, bleeding, dying- his mate. The word echoed in his skull, a foreign concept suddenly made real and devastating. This wasn't just a colleague anymore; it wasn't just a woman he respected and admired from afar. This was the one person destined for him and Robby, the piece of their bond they never knew was missing. And you were lying on a trauma table, slipping away while he stood frozen in horror, helplessly watching your life drain away onto the sterile white sheets beneath you.
“Alright, that’s enough.”
Garcia was there suddenly, stepping into his space without hesitation, snapping her fingers once in front of his face. Jack blinked at her, slow to process the words. She wasn’t yelling, but it felt like she was.
“You need to get it together,” she said sharply, “or you need to get out.”
“What?” The word felt strange in his mouth, disconnected. His mind was still on you- pale, broken, your scent everywhere, your soulmark burning into his vision like it had been branded there.
Garcia nodded once, like that confirmed something she already knew.
“Abbot. You are compromised.”
Jack frowned.
Compromised.
The word didn’t fit- not the way she was saying it. Like he was unreliable. Like he wasn’t functioning. He was functioning. He was fixing it. They were fixing you.
"Abbot," she said again, firmer. "Step back. You are delaying her care."
No he wasn't. He was helping. His brain was just catching up with his body, that was all. There were things that needed to be done- tubes to place, fluids to run, blood to transfuse- though right now he couldn't quite remember which came first. The plan was all jumbled, scattered across his mind like the pieces of gravel he could see embedded in your legs.
"Right, I'm taking over." Garcia all but shoved him out of the way, taking over with all the assurance only someone of her skill could. "Ellis, keep prepping that central line. Henderson, intubate. Toomarian, tell me what's going on with that abdomen." The team around him responded without question, falling into step behind her as she started calling out instructions.
Jack blinked, dragging his attention toward her with effort. “What? No- I’m- ” He shook his head once, like that might clear it. It didn’t. “I’m fine. I can do this.”
"You're not fine!" she called over her shoulder, too busy monitoring the intubation to look up, "That is your soulmate on the table, Abbot, and I do not have the time or patience to argue with you about treating her. I swear, you'll thank me later."
It wasn't that he was arguing, exactly; it was that every instinct he had was telling him to stay, to fix this, to be here for you. But Garcia had stepped between him and you, a small but unmovable wall as she kept giving orders.
And Jack Abbot wasn't used to being kept out of a trauma. He worked them- and for good reason. He knew what he was doing in a trauma bay, even with the ground shifting beneath his feet.
He moved, almost unconsciously, trying to angle for a better view around her. You'd been rolled slightly onto your side so Henderson could intubate. They were securing your airway now- Jack could see the tube going in, the breath sounds crackling over the ventilator. He tried again, moving around the edge of the bed to get a look at your vitals board on the other side. Still shockingly low BP- still barely responding to fluids.
"Dr Abbot."
A nurse- Lindsey?- was standing in front of him now, one hand on his chest, pushing him back. He looked down at the hand- then back at her, confused. Why was she blocking him? He was only trying to help, to do his job.
"Dr Abbot," she said, voice a little softer, eyes watching him carefully. "You should step outside."
"I don't need to step outside," he insisted, though the words felt thick and clumsy. The room was getting crowded- so many people around him now, moving fast but not letting him any closer. He could still see you over their shoulders; blood was being pumped in fast now, but still your BP wasn't budging.
He just- he just needed you. To touch you, to calm you, to tell you everything was going to be alright because he was here now and he was never, ever going to let anything hurt you again-
"Someone get security." he heard Garcia say, her voice hard but oddly distant, like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel. "He's not going to leave."
Leave? Why would he leave? Jack shook his head, trying to get his feet under him. No. He was fine. The world just needed to stop spinning for a minute and he'd-
Hands landed on him a second later- firm, practiced, impersonal. Someone at his shoulder, another catching his arm. Their touch was clinical but unwelcome, an intrusion that Jack's instincts registered as threat even through the haze of panic clouding his mind. Jack let it happen for all of three full steps before his body caught up, muscles tensing under restraint as years of combat training surged to the surface.
“Wait-” The word came out strained, his focus snapping back to you as the distance between you widened by inches. “No, just- give me a second, I need to- ”
The need to get back to you surged again, sharper this time, cutting through everything else. He twisted against their grip, not fully aware of it until they tightened their hold in response.
“Jack,” someone said- Lena, maybe- but it didn’t quite reach him.
All he could track was the space opening up between him and the bed.
Wrong.
The thought hit hard and immediate, overriding everything else. Wrong to leave. Wrong to step away. Wrong to let anyone else between him and-
“I need to be in there,” he said, still trying to keep his voice steady even as panic clawed at the edges of it. “I need to-"
He pulled again, harder this time, breath unsteady, control slipping in a way that felt both distant and terrifyingly close. He twisted hard against the guards’ grip, muscle memory kicking in on instinct. He knew how to do this- how to shift his weight, how to break a hold, how to turn someone else’s strength against them. And for a second it worked- the hold loosened, just slightly- and then his balance went.
The prosthetic didn’t give the way his body expected. His footing slipped half a beat off, just enough to throw everything out of sync, just enough to cost him the advantage.
And then he was being dragged back, back toward the door before he fully registered it. He could hear Lena and Darius, the night shift head of security, and Jack knew he'd fucked up if Darius had been dragged into it. Still, all he could focus on was you, on the life fading from your eyes as you lay there on that bed.
"No-"
His arms were wrenched behind his back, tight enough to hurt, and he was dragged into the corridor, the glass doors slamming shut between him and the trauma bay. He kept his eyes on you, unwilling to look away even for a moment, until Darius stepped in front of him. He was a mountain of a man, ex-military like Jack, with dark eyes and an unflinching expression. For a split second, something sharp and reactive surged up-an instinct to push past him, to remove the obstacle- but Jack blinked hard, forcing it back. He wasn’t in the field anymore. And Darius was not an enemy.
They'd sat in too many VA meetings together for that.
Jack let out a shaky breath and forced himself to meet Darius’s eyes. Tried to sound rational even though the inside of his head was anything but.
"You need to listen to me," he gritted out, voice taut. "I am the night shift attending in charge of this ER. That is my patient."
"Uh-huh. And I'm the queen of England," Darius shot back, deadpan. His hands stayed firm at Jack’s wrists, keeping the pressure steady as Jack struggled to regain control.
Jack pressed on, desperate and unthinking. "I am the most qualified person in this damn ED-"
"Not in this state you’re not," Darius cut in, unimpressed. His eyes flicked down once, tracking something Jack couldn't see- his breathing, the shaking of his hands- and Jack flushed hot with shame. He knew what he must look like. It wasn't good.
Darius’s voice shifted then, slightly less hard. More like he was trying to talk him off a ledge instead of off a patient. "Jack. My man. Listen to me." Darius turned them both so Jack was facing away from the doors, forcing his focus away from the chaos inside. Jack fought it, craning his neck to catch even a glimpse of you- then gave in, grudgingly, when Darius didn't budge.
He stared at the wall opposite instead, trying to even out his breathing while Darius kept talking. "You're not doing yourself or her any favours right now. Whatever is happening in there- they've got it."
"She's my soulmate." It came out broken, but he needed Darius to know- to understand that what was happening in that room wasn't just another patient. It was everything.
Darius’s expression barely flickered. He'd seen enough soulbonds play out in his own time- the best and the absolute worst- to know what this looked like.
"I know," he said, calm as ever. "But you're a doctor first, and this is a hospital. Let them do their job."
Jack exhaled roughly, body sagging a little in Darius’s hold as the fight ebbed out of him. Not because he believed it- because there wasn't another option. He couldn't push his way back in there without making things worse.
"Jack?" Lena was standing at his side, cautious in a way she rarely was. He turned to her, then took in the rest of the corridor properly for the first time. The department was oddly quiet, staff keeping a wide berth as they sneaked glances his way. Some of the nurses were whispering amongst themselves, but when he caught their eye they quickly looked away.
Scared. They were scared of him- or at least of what they'd just seen. He swallowed, forcing down the bitterness of it. He hadn't meant to-
Fuck.
"Jack," Lena repeated, anchoring his gaze on her, "I've called Robby. He's on his way in."
Robby. Jesus, Robby. In all his panic, Jack hadn't even thought to call his mate.
"He's-" his voice cracked, and he swallowed, hard. He hated his voice for coming out so unsteady. "Did you tell him?"
"About the soulmarks or about you making a scene?" she asked, trying for a smile but failing miserably. He shook his head once.
“Both,” she answered anyway. “I called her flatmate and her parents too. Flatmate’s on her way. Parents are in the UK, so…” She let it trail off.
Jack nodded jerkily, grateful for her quick thinking. He'd forgotten all about anyone else, the other people who loved you and would want to know what was happening. He hadn't thought beyond the four walls of the trauma bay and he hated himself for it.
“Alright.” He drew in a slow breath, forcing it deeper the second time when it hitched. “Alright.”
He turned back to the window, locking himself into stillness by sheer force of habit, of training. One breath in. One out. Again.
Darius eased back another step. “You good here, boss?” he asked quietly.
No. Not even close. But he wasn't going to go feral again. "I'm fine."
Darius hesitated for a moment before stepping back, giving him space but staying within reach. "I'll be right here if you need me."
Jack acknowledged it with another nod, his eyes already fixed back on your too-still body, half eclipsed by the flurry of staff working on you. Every rise of your chest was a victory, every bleep of the monitor a blessing.
In.
Out.
Still alive.
His shoulders ached. Something along his ribs protested every time he breathed too deeply, and he knew, distantly, that he’d feel all of it later when the adrenaline dropped.
But it didn't matter. Nothing outside that room did.
In.
Out.
Was that a fucking chest tube?
He narrowed his eyes, tracking Garcia’s hands as she worked- incision, insertion, already securing the line to suction. Good. That was good.
In.
Out.
The doors of the ambulance bay banged open, and Robby strode in like a whirlwind, his eyes searching the scene before landing on Jack. Robbie took him in at a glance- the dishevelled hair, the wild eyes, the lingering scent of rage and terror- then he was at his side in seconds.
“Jesus, Jack,” His hands came up, firm and grounding, framing Jack’s face. "The fuck happened?"
Maybe Jack didn't deserve it after the shit he'd just pulled, but he leaned into the touch anyway.
"Hit and run." his voice sounded like it had been scraped raw. “Two hours, at least, alone in the cold before someone found her,” he forced out the words, squeezing his eyes shut at the flash of images that came up with them. “Broken ribs, broken limbs, ruptured spleen at least. GCS 6. Left lung collapse-"
Robby made a soft noise in his throat and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around Jack's shoulders and holding him tight. Jack buried his face in Robby's neck, breathing in the scent of vanilla and woodsmoke, trying to get out that acrid, bitter scent of terrified omega.
"She alive?" Robby asked after a few beats.
"Think so," Jack replied, his voice muffled against Robby's coat, "They dragged me out. Said I was compromised."
"You were." Robby said without hesitation, stroking a hand over his hair. "And they were right to do it."
He knew that. He did, but it still made something resentful roll through his stomach as he nodded.
"She’s our soulmate," Jack whispered then, like saying it out loud would confirm it and sink it in further, as if the truth of it wasn't already splitting him open. Robby drew back, taking in the way Jack still trembled, the way his eyes kept darting back to the trauma bay.
"You're sure?" he asked, as if there was any room for doubt after the scene Jack had caused.
Jack pulled back slightly, just enough to look Robby in the eyes. "I'm sure."
Robby exhaled slow through his nose, then dropped his gaze to the window behind Jack, his arms tightening around him. There was nothing gentle about the way Robby watched the scene through the glass- no softness, just that same grim resolve Jack knew too well.
"Fuck."
Jack closed his eyes again, leaning his forehead against Robby's shoulder. “Yeah,” he breathed.
There wasn't anything else to say.
They both turned their attention back toward the trauma bay then, Robby with his arm still draped over Jack's shoulders, keeping him anchored while they watched the team work. The frantic activity hadn't slowed, though the panic had edged back into something more controlled- the absence of a feral alpha probably helped, Jack thought grimly. Garcia was at the centre of it all, running the case like she always did- calm, precise, unflappable. Logically, he was aware they were damn lucky she happened to be covering the night shift at all. Emotionally, he was still working his way past being pulled out of the bay at all.
Jack fixed his attention back to you, back to any bit of you that was still visible beyond the scrum of people at work. He tried not to let his gaze snag on the broken angle of your arm or the blood still seeping through the bandages on your chest, focusing instead on the small movements- the rise and fall of your ribcage as the ventilator pushed breaths into you, the way someone adjusted your blankets so that only a sliver of you was exposed. Small signs that you were alive and that people were still fighting to keep you that way.
Beside him, Robby went still. Jack didn't realise anything was wrong at first- because everything felt wrong right now- until Robby's hands slid off his shoulders and he straightened, stepping closer to the window. His hand twitched upward like he meant to press it to the glass but stopped just short, fingers curling against his palm instead.
Oh. Right. The soulmark.
Jack swallowed hard, watching as Robby stared through the glass- not at you, but at your chest. At the familiar mark that had belonged to them and only them for so long, now laid bare for Robby to see. Jack waited for the same ferocity that had taken him to rip through his mate- and it came, only differently. Not feral aggression- just something sharp and pained and unguarded in his eyes, an open wound of realisation.
Robby breathed your name- soft, almost silent, like a curse or a prayer. It was hope and agony wrapped into one, and the weight of it nearly took Jack to his knees again. Then-
"Lena!" Robby called out, sharper than he probably intended.
Lena appeared at his side almost instantly, her face tight with apprehension. "Yeah, Robby?"
"Walk me through it," he said, voice heavy. "Everything."
And so she did. In rapid fire detail, walking Robby through every intervention since you arrived: the intubation, the chest tube, the massive transfusion protocol already underway. There was still no response from you, but your vitals were climbing ever so slightly.
“Spleen's gone,” she said. “We're just packing her abdomen now to stop the bleed- they'll take her up as soon as she's stable enough for transport. Pulmonary contusion on the left, broken ribs on both sides, skull fracture with a small subdural- neuro is aware and standing by.” She paused, glancing between the two of them. “They'll be taken her up as soon as they've packed her abdomen."
Robby nodded once. Then again, sharper, like he was trying to force the information to settle.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”
For a second, it looked like he might hold it together. Then Robby turned and slammed his palm into the wall.
"Fuck!" The sound echoed down the corridor, too loud for the hour, too raw- and the whole department was watching them, again.
"Hey!" Darius, still nearby, made a warning noise, stepping forward instinctively. "Don't you start too, man. We just got your mate under control."
"Yeah, alright!" Robby bit back, the anger turning to seething frustration. He hit the wall again- softer this time but no less frustrated - and then leaned forward, both hands braced against the plaster as if it was the only thing holding him upright. "Damn it!" he bit out, "Damn it all to hell. Why didn't she say anything?"
And that was the question, wasn't it? Because you had to have known. Neither he nor Robby were shy about changing in front of their coworkers, not with how often they got blood on their clothes. You must have seen their marks. And said nothing.
Jack rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to make sense of it but failing. "I don't know, Robby," he said finally, stepping forward to rest a hand on his back. He wasn't sure which of them needed comfort more right now. "I don't know."
Just then, the doors to Trauma 3 open and a stretcher came barrelling out, Garcia and the team racing alongside as they made their way to the elevators.
You looked so fucking small on the gurney, almost swallowed by the blankets and tubes and lines crisscrossing over you. There was still blood on your face, your mouth held unnaturally open around the ventilator tube, your torso an odd, bulging shape where they had packed the wounds. But you were breathing- they had made sure of that- and that small, mechanical rise and fall was all Jack could hold onto.
"Garcia!" Robby shouted, stepping away from Jack with renewed purpose as he rushed after the team. "I want updates ever fifteen minutes, you hear me? Fifteen minutes, or I'm coming in that OR myself."
Garcia didn't break stride, didn't even turn to look at him as she barked back. "Get back in your own department, old man!" she snapped. "I've got it under control." The doors to the elevator closed before Robby could respond, leaving him standing there, staring at the closed doors like he could will them open again. Then he exhaled hard, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, energy with nowhere to go.
Jack stepped in beside him, silent for now, knowing better than to say anything until Robby was ready. Robby muttered something under his breath- curses, Jack thought- then turned to face him, the grief and rage in his expression plain.
"Alright." He breathed out slow, like he was locking it down one piece at a time. "Alright." His hand came up, cupped the back of Jack's neck. Firm. Anchored them both in the present. "We wait."
There was nothing else to do.
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