summary: jack visits your apartment, and robby realises something too.
pairing: jack abbot x fem! robinavitch! doctor! reader
warnings: general pitt themes, nothing terrible it's mostly just u and jack longing for each other but not admitting it lmao
part one, part two, part three
a/n: i know this is like a few months late but like... enjoy :P
banners from my good friend @no-144444 !
Robby noticed the distance from Jack. Thursday nights in sports bars, drinking away as the Steelers pretended they thought they’d win, and watching the Penguins actually win- they’d vanished from Robby’s life. Jack still smiled, still joked, still talked… but it seemed surface-level. They weren’t the friends they were before. They were… less.
It made him nervous. He understood why everyone was distancing themselves, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Word had spread around the hospital of his outburst and your subsequent quitting, and everyone seemed to just pity him. Everyone but Jack. He assumed Jack would understand, would stand by him, but no. He’d been standoffish. Strange. Robby caught him looking at him with near disdain in his eyes, before he blinked it away again and turned back into regular Jack.
“Everything alright, Dr Abbot?” Robby asked, slotting himself into a conversation between Abbot and Santos. He had his bag draped over his shoulder, more than ready to leave after a tough double.
He grunted in response. He looked at Santos, “So do it yourself.” He said simply before walking out of the ED. Robby started at Santos, waiting for some sort of information to fall from her lips, but it didn’t. She just smiled awkwardly and made herself scarce, like everyone seemed ot do over the past few weeks.
“What was that about?” He asked Dana, who wasn’t on his side, but spoke to him the most. She shrugged. “Seriously, what’s going on?”
Dana sighed, placing the tablet she’d previously been furiously typing on. “She was trying to convince Jack to go visit Y/n. We’re all worried about her.” She admitted, clearly trying to decide what’s best. Better that Robby knows than finds out by accident, right?
He tensed his jaw, irritation pulsing through his veins. “Why would they send him?” He asked, eyes wide and posture rigid.
Dana stared at him in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way they look at each other?” She scoffed when his expression didn’t change. “God, you really didn’t know that girl at all, did you?”
He couldn’t even get mad at you, because she was right. He didn’t fucking know you, and it was all his fault.
But Jack? He could get mad at Jack.
Jack Abbot felt more than scared when he rang the buzzer to get into your apartment. He only knew where you lived because he’d given you his old real estate friend’s name, who got you a good deal on a condo downtown. He wasn’t too sure if this was overstepping boundaries, or being creepy, or if you’d even want to fucking see his sorry ass, but he had to try. He was doing this for everyone in the Pitt who missed you more than anything, he was doing this as an apology, he was doing this for you, reminding you that you still mattered.
“Who’s there?” Your voice rang out over the intercom.
“Hey, it’s me,” he cleared his throat. No backing down now. “Jack Abbot.”
You faltered for a moment in your apartment. There you stood, trying on fucking formal dresses for one of your college friends’ weddings, thinking about him and how stupid it was that you missed him, and of course, he appears. Clearly, he’s a mindreader, or Santos paid some Etsy witch to curse you and haunt your waking moments with images of everything you were missing back in the Pitt. “Oh, um, yeah, come on up!” You called, already trying to pull off the corsetted dress on your body. It was pale pink and pretty, but it was tight, and sure, it had taken you nearly 30 minutes to properly get on. Surely you could get it off in 3 minutes if you were determined enough, right?
Jack knocked on the door as you were just finished untying the knot in the back, and you genuinely wanted to scream. You took a deep breath and swallowed your pride, opening the door with a sheepish smile. He stared hard. You couldn’t tell if it was confusion or shock or disgust, but it didn’t matter, because you’d already launched into the most complex way of explaining what you were doing. “I’m so sorry- I was trying on wedding dresses for my friends’ wedding- wedding guest dresses! I’m not getting married, of course! I wouldn’t get married- no, not that I wouldn’t get married, it’s just, y’know- I’ve been single like my whole fucking life, so yeah. Anyway, how are you?”
He gulped and finally met your eyes. “You look beautiful,” he smiled easily, though it was more of a smirk. You wanted the floor to swallow you up; you did not feel beautiful. Your hair was a mess, your skin was breaking out from a new moisturiser you should’ve never used, and though the dress looked nice, it wasn’t your favourite out of the three options you’d ordered last-minute. He still had his scrubs on, still had his bag slung lazily on his shoulder, and still had that same slightly dishevelled hair. He hadn’t changed, like you’d feared. He still had that teasing glint in his eyes, he still smelt the same, and he still looked at you the way he always did. All soft and kind, like you were someone worth looking at. “Can I come in?”
You nodded, letting him in. “Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee? Energy drink? Sleepy tea?” You listed off as he dropped his bag off beside your kitchen counter. He shook his head, hands in his pockets, as he leaned against your counter. You watched him as he took in your messy apartment. Your pile of laundry to be folded on the couch, various medical textbooks open on your desk, a half-finished episode of Grey’s Anatomy on your laptop, and dishes in the sink. Neither of you spoke until you finally broke the silence. “Welcome to my humble abode. What brings you here today?” You smiled softly, and he did too. He looked at you for a moment.
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to check on you,” he shrugged. Wrong thing to say. He saw the way you deflated slightly, though he didn’t know why. “I just… we all miss you at the Pitt.” His eyes were trained on you as you pottered about the kitchen, the image almost laughable. You, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in one of the most stunning dresses he’d ever laid eyes on, just walking around your kitchen like it was regular, like it wasn’t enough to bring most men to their fucking knees. It dawned on him. He’d missed you. He resented Michael not just for saying what he did, but for taking you away from him. “It’s my day off, so I thought I’d drop by and make sure you’re alright.”
You stopped placing dishes into your dishwasher and sighed. “So, Mike sent you?” It was more of a statement than a question, and he saw the way your shoulders tensed, the way your eyes narrowed, the way you changed.
“No, he didn’t. We aren’t really…” he trailed off. He didn’t want to lie and say they weren’t talking, because they were. They talked about patients, they talked about stupid Pitt gossip they overheard from nurses and patients, and they talked about other stupid shit, and then Jack would remember the harrowing way you had folded into yourself that night, the way you looked at Robby like he was the worst person in the world, and yet you still wanted to help him. By then, he’d find a reason to walk away, and he’d beat himself up for the rest of the shift because of it. “I wanted to see you. I… I missed you. It’s weird not walking to work together anymore.”
And there it was, out in the open. You seemed to relax a little, visibly at least. You nodded, that soft smile on your lips. “Missed you too, cowboy,” you chuckled, and his heart squeezed in his chest just a bit at that godforsaken nickname. Sure, he’d earned it, but still, when he remembered that day, he shivered. “Do you want something to eat?” You offered. “I was going to order in some dinner, if you’re not too desperate to get back home to your coffee and gym session?” You knew him far too well.
He thought about it for a moment, then realised if he thought about it, he’d just say no. “That sounds good,” he nodded, letting loose for once in his life. “But I’m paying for dinner.”
You laughed that beautiful laugh he had missed so dearly, and looked at him. “I love how you think I’m going to fight you on that.”
He rolled his eyes, but an unmistakably fond smirk made its way onto his lips, and before he knew what he was agreeing to, he was sitting beside the pile of laundry on your couch, laughing at an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. On the other side of the mountain of clothes, is you, still in that dress, always pulling his attention to you every few seconds. You’ll laugh, or snort, or scoff at something McDreamy says, and he just has to look at you.
“Do you want to get out of that dress?” The sentence leaves his lips before he can stop himself because he can’t imagine corsets are entirely comfortable, but then he said it and realised it sounded like something entirely different. He felt his skin heat, red blotches appearing on his cheeks. You were quiet for a moment, just the background noise of Meredith having yet another breakdown between you two. He focused back on the TV, but he felt your eyes on him.
“Christ, Cowboy, buy me dinner first,” you joked, trying to diffuse the awkwardness of the moment. You stood, stopping in front of him. “Can you try to untangle me, please?”
He swallowed as you waited for him to begin, and he stood, his hand tentatively pulling on the strings of the delicate dress. The soft fabric felt nearly sacrilegious in his hands. You smelled so good, felt so soft, looked so beautiful- he nearly had to hold his breath. Of course, of fucking course this was happening now. He had this thing when he got around you, he’d think about you in the wrong way, in a way he shouldn’t, not as someone you trust, or that your brother trusts. He thinks about coming home to you. He thinks about cooking dinner together. He thinks about kids. He thinks about love. All of which he shouldn’t. You were 19 years younger than him; he was 47, and you were 28. You deserved a guy your age, someone who didn’t freak out at fireworks, or cry every time he has to think about his dead wife. You deserved someone softer than him, less rough and tumble. Still, his selfish ape-brain made him think about it. You were just so… you. All kind and irresistible.
You could feel his fucking breath on your skin, and you just had to breathe through it, attempting to ignore how nice it felt to have him here, have him back. It was so unfair that your brother got exactly what he wanted in the argument; it was you he had hurt. Yet, he kept the Pitt, Dana, all of your friends, and Jack. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you missed Jack the most. Sure, you two weren’t as close as Robby and he were, but he walked you to work every time you took a night shift, he was your first attending, and he was more than kind to you. You hated how much you looked around your new ED, just searching for his stupid face, his stupid lips telling you to breathe, only to realise that he wasn’t your attending anymore.
He cleared his throat as he finished loosening the corset. “He regrets it, y’know.” You stiffened under his grip, but nodded. You didn’t even say anything; you just walked off to your bedroom to change. Wow, he had a real special way of ruining things. He sat himself back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, wishing he’d never spoken.
You emerged in a hoodie and barely-there shorts, and you crossed your arms, standing in front of the TV. He had to stare very hard at the irritated expression on your face to focus. “So, he did send you to apologise for him?” You demanded, visibly angry.
“No, God no,” he stood up, just inches away from you. “No, sweetheart, I didn’t. I wanted to see you- to check on you.” He admitted, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. That didn’t help matters, because you just rolled your eyes and brushed his hand off. He was on a roll tonight.
You huffed. “I’m 28, Jack, I don’t need you to ‘check’ on me.” You scoffed, feeling every part the kid Robby always made you feel. You were (stupidly) under the impression that Jack saw you as an equal, not like everyone else in the Pitt- they all saw you as the boss's sister. So much so that you had to switch to using your mother’s maiden name so that new med students wouldn’t be terrified to talk to you. Even at the start, Jack had made a point to get to know you. You were his med student, and you mattered- you weren’t just Robby’s little sister. He’d give you the shit cases, just like every other med student. He was hard on you, just like every other med student. He was brilliant, and exactly what you needed.
His throat closed a little, emotion tightening his chest. He hated the way you were looking at him, looking at him like he didn’t understand you. He did, or at least, he tried to. He understood why you hated Robby so much, and he didn’t even blame you- fuck, he hated him too. He knew why you hid little snacks around the ED. He knew why you hated the hospital scrubs. “No, sweetheart-fuck. I missed you. I miss you around the Pitt, and I wanted to see if you were alright because everyone keeps saying you’re not responding to messages, and I can’t fucking lose you.” It was the most honest he’d ever been with you. Standing there, in your apartment, with fucking Grey’s Anatomy on the TV in front of him, and he had decided that it was a good idea to pour his heart out now. He truly was on a roll.
Your eyes softened, and that tightness in his chest eased slightly. “Jack…” you trailed off, and then you did the one thing he wasn’t expecting. You hugged him. You pressed your face into the crook of his neck and wrapped your arms around him, and you sighed. He hugged back out of instinct, sniffed your hair out of obligation, and held his breath out of fear. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice small. “I miss you too.”
God, you were destroying him. First the hug, and now admitting you missed him too. He half wanted to run away, and half wanted to stay here for the rest of his life. He tried to ignore how nice it felt to have your arms around him, and in turn, hold him in yours. “You don’t need to apologise.” He shook his head, a hand cradling your head as you rested on his shoulder. “You have every right to be mad at him.”
“I’m not,” you admitted. “Mad. I’m just… hurt? I don’t know if that’s the right word. I just can’t really believe he thought Frank was telling the truth- that he ever thought I’d do something like that, y’know?” You sniffled against him. “But I’m glad you came to see me. I missed you, too,” you finally pulled back and smiled at him. If you only knew, he thought, wondering how he’d ever gotten himself into this position. “Dinner?” He nodded.
You two ordered and ended up hate-watching some medical dramas, then you planned to go for a walk in the park over the weekend. Dana was right; he was doing this for himself. And he was more than fucked.
summary: this week has been terrible, someone makes it worse and you break. robby is there to pick up the pieces.
pairing: michael robinavitch x fem! nurse! reader
warnings: regular themes of the pitt, reader gets hurt and doesn't want help, creepy guy (not michael) nothing else, really
a/n: EMMY WINNER SHAWN HATOSY !
banners from my good friend @no-144444 !
The Pitt felt oppressively bright. 8 hours in this shithole, and you still weren’t done. The waiting room was overflowing, the med students were dropping like flies, and your attending was on his last nerve, snapping at everyone. You still had your black eye from a combative patient a few hours before, and it felt like your entire head was pulsing. Torture didn’t even begin to cover it.
“Hey, nurse!” A guy (the guy who had been complaining since he’d gotten a bed) yelled unceremoniously. “I need some help here, I need the bathroom.” Yuck. You usually didn’t mind giving people help with the bathroom, it was a regular part of your job that you’d learnt to live with. But helping creepy guys who are really only in the ER because their poor wives needed some time away from them, that was vile. He was your regular middle-aged white guy; balding, handsy, far too confident in his looks and supposed charm to realise he was making a fool of himself.
You took in a deep breath and pretended you didn’t want to pummel him. “I’ll call a male nurse to help you out, sir.” You smiled politely. You hoped he wouldn’t make it a big deal, but his smirk fell, and he crossed his arms.
“You can’t do it?” He asked gruffly, his irritation badly hidden.
You walked up to the side of his bed, reading over his chart and stats, then sent him a smile. That was your first mistake. “Sorry sir, we just find it easier for our patients to go to the bathroom with someone of their own gender identity.” Second mistake.
His face scrunched up in that classic ‘you’re pissing me off, and you disgust me’ face that made you slightly sick to see since the last time caused a CT scan. “Don’t start on all that gender bullshit, there’s only two, and I want you to bring me to the bathroom.” His hand wrapped around your arm, holding tighter than comfortable. Great, he was a homophobe too, shocking. Internally, you groaned. Two dicks in one day, really? Externally, your smile dropped.
“Sir, let go of me or I will have to get security in here,” you stated calmly and slowly. He didn’t budge. In fact, he held on tighter, nails digging into the skin, the pressure building on your skin. You’d be bruised. “Sir! Get your hands off me, or else security will be in here and will restrain you to the bed until the police arrive.” You tried to pull your hand out of his grip, but he just held on tight, that anger just bubbling up in him.
“Look, I’m just trying to be nice here, alright? You’re a pretty girl who deserves a real man, and I’m trying to give you that, alright?” He spat, face red as he pulled you in closer to him.
Your mouth worked quicker than your brain. “What about your wife?” You gritted out, voice low and irritated.
His hand met your cheek before you knew what was happening. The blood rushed through your ears and you barely registered the screams coming from your own mouth as he somehow got on top of you and started hitting. Ahmad was in there as soon as he could’ve been, but it wasn’t quick enough. Blood was pouring out of your nose, and the new cut in your head, and everything hurt. You just lay there, groggy and in pain until Dana helped you up onto a gurney, and Mel started checking you out.
Michael wasn’t expecting a call from Dana on his one day off, but he welcomed it anyway. “Hey Dana, what’s up?” He asked, his eyes still focused on the jigsaw in front of him. He had to finish the jigsaw before you got home, mostly because you hated how your cat would chuck all the pieces around your apartment and disappear, rendering the jigsaw unsolvable. He did most of it in between his errands and some well-deserved naps throughout the day, and he’d enjoyed himself. He had thoroughly enjoyed heading to the basketball court and showing some of the neighbourhood teens that some old doctor could still beat them. Since then, he’d been lounging around your house and doing some of the most domestic things he could’ve thought of, and it made his heart swell in a way he wouldn’t really care to admit. You two were still new, only 8 months in, but he always felt a bit more at home in your apartment, so much so, that he was thinking of asking to move in together. Your apartment was great, close to the hospital, it had actual decor and life in it, and of course, you were there. It sounded perfect to him.
“I’m giving you a heads up because I don’t want you to stress that girl out even more when she comes home,” Dana’s voice was tired and hoarse, another day of trying to run a circus that had lost its tent had taken its toll. “She got hurt today, not badly. But not great either. Worse than the black eye. She has a fracture in her nose, and a hairline fracture in her skull. A patient got handsy and got angry when she didn’t reciprocate,” Dana couldn’t hide the anger in her voice. Angry that this happened at all, angry that men thought they had some kind of ownership of women’s bodies, angry that you got hurt. It was no secret you were her favourite nurse. You always showed up to work with a smile, always stayed late when someone asked, and you apparently made Michael less annoying. “She filled out an incident report, she’s been checked by psyche and neuro, and she’s being driven home. She’s just… look, she’s upset Robby. Rightfully so. This is the second accident this week for her. I sent her home, Mel’s driving her. Take care of her, alright?”
He wanted to rip his hair out. Fuck, of course, of course, something like this would happen when he wasn’t on the same shift as you, of course. All he could think about was some fucking bastard putting his hands on you, and you having no one to protect you. At least on Tuesday with the black eye, Robby and he came in at the right time to get the asshole away from you. Now, he was waiting at home, doing a fucking jigsaw puzzle, while you were hurt and upset in your car. “Yeah Dana, thank you,” he ran a hand over his face. “How was she before leaving?”
“Crying. A lot.” She admitted. His heart twisted once more.
“Alright,” he nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Take care of her, yeah?”
“Of course.” He assured, ending the call. The jigsaw was quickly put back into its box, the kettle was on, an icepack was out with its freezer-burn melting away, and he was waiting on the couch. 2, 4, 6 minutes passed before the front door opened, and the sounds of your soft sobs were filling his ears. Mel was panicked, he could tell. Her eyes were wide and she was trying to calm you down, but nothing was working. The tears kept coming.
“Dr. Robby!” She smiled, happy he was here and hopefully able to calm you down. He stood and crossed the room, essentially taking you out of her arms and into his. You settled against his chest, head fitting seamlessly into the crook of his neck. He took your bag out of Mel’s hands and smiled, waving her off. She left with a grateful smile. His attention turned to you. Bruised eye and nose, eye bloodshot, exhaustion clear.
God, you just wanted to sleep, wanted to turn the world off for a few minutes and not have to feel like this. The aching pain and an overwhelming sense of everything being out of control just made it worse. The fact that Robby was here, in your apartment to get rest, and you were bulldozing in sobbing crying over something as silly as a patient getting a little agitated.
His hand cupped your face, looking you over in full doctor mode, though his eyes were softer than usual, something you’d been told he reserves only for you. “Fractured?” He asked softly. You nodded, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks as you tried to keep it together. Gently, he pulled you back into his arms, letting you lean against him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He admitted, a soothing hand running up and down your back.
You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from crying again. Stop, this is stupid. You’re fine. It’s not like you got stabbed. You pushed his arms off of yourself as you gingerly wiped your face, shaking your head. “I-I,” you took a deep breath. “I’m fine. It’s not a big deal, I’m just being dramatic-”
“Don’t do that,” he shook his head, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and that stupidly attractive squint he constantly does. “Don’t try to pretend this isn’t a big deal, or something not worth getting upset over. You got assaulted. You have fractures in your nose and your skull. You’re allowed to cry.” You shook your head and his heart cracked a little. Of course, you, being the hyperindependent person you were, of course you were thinking about how you were being perceived. You were thinking about how you were inconveniencing him. God, he wanted to shake you into understanding that being there is part of being in a relationship.
He crossed the kitchen to you in a few steps, as you bit your lip to hold it together. You fiddled anxiously with your hands, trying to keep the inevitable sobs at bay. He noticed. Of course he did, he was Robby, your Robby. The kindest, most fucking caring man in the whole world. His hands wrapped around your waist as he held you against him. “I’m okay.” God, even you could hear how small and shaky your voice was.
“You’re not, and that’s alright,” he shrugged. “I just want to be here for you. I have the kettle boiling. I have an icepack. I think you should get into some pyjamas, and we can order in, my treat,” he smiled before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I just want to take care of you. You don’t have to do this alone, not when you’re with me.”
And for the first time in a long time, you felt comfortable enough to let go. He had you.
summary: you have to go home for a wedding. jack comes to support. you think it's the end of your relationship, he proves it's not.
pairing: jack abbot x fem! doctor! reader, carmen berzatto x fem! sister! reader, sugar berzatto x fem! sister reader, richie jerimovitch x fem! cousin! reader, etc.
warnings: regular themes of the bear, regular themes of the pitt, jack was abused as a kid, reader was lowkey abused as a kid, talks of suicide, talks of death, talks of depression and addiction, talks of jack's PTSD, stevie is annoying, LOTS OF CURSING, fear of abandonment, lots of crying, non-sexual nudity, spoilers for the wedding episode (based on episode 7 'bears'- season 4 of the bear)
a/n: yall, this is 13k words. good luck.
banners from my good friend @no-144444 !
Everything was on fire. His leg, well, his lack of leg had been at him all night. His back was killing him from all the fucking leaning he’d been doing. His eyes were bloodshot from the double he’d unintentionally pulled. Fuck, he just wanted to go home. The last few hours had been a blur. Mass casualty events hit just a bit too close to home, reminding him of his time in the military, which was never really a good idea. He hated it, the screams he couldn’t forget, the wounds he couldn’t treat, and the faces forever etched into his memory. He hated it because he couldn’t watch fireworks, or watch any of those documentaries you so loved, or function properly sometimes. Sometimes the PTSD took over and the nightmares dragged him back, dragged him away from you.
You were always so patient. Always waiting for him, ready to pick up the pieces.
Shit, where were you? He hadn’t seen you since the beginning of the shitshow everyone had just endured.
He slid up against the nurse’s station, leaning against the desk as he gained Dana’s attention. “Know where my girl is?” he asked casually. You two had given up keeping it a secret months ago, specifically after Shen had made a powerpoint about how perfect you two are for each other and left it playing in the breakroom for a full night and day before either of you noticed. It had an AI image of you two kissing which looked far too real.
She let out a sigh, leaning in closer. Alarm bells went off in his head, but he kept calm. It’s probably fine, he told himself. She’s alright. “She’s getting some air, apparently,” She raised an eyebrow, putting a hand over his. He stiffened. He hated how often you followed his tradition of going up there for some air. Mostly he contemplated what the fuck he was doing with his life. You went up there to stop him. “Brought her phone, it was ringing. She answered it.” She shrugged and let go of his hand. That terrifying expression on her face, the one that meant she was worried. Not many things can make a charge nurse worried. More alarm bells than he’d enjoy to admit started ringing. You hated phone calls, it was just a thing with you. You texted, you listened to voicenotes, but you didn’t pick up your phone. It used to piss Jack off because calling is so much easier than texting, but he slowly understood it’s just something you didn’t enjoy, and he adapted.
The elevator was never fast enough for him, and neither was how long it took him to get up the stairs. The cold air hit him as he walked out onto the roof, your figure on the safe side of the railing. He let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Slowly, he approached. He caught words. No. Can’t. Mom. Sugar. Carm. Bear. Sydney. Tiffany. Frank. He didn’t pry. He leaned against the railing, and he waited.
“Rich, I’m not going,” you rolled your eyes as he kept fucking talking. “Yes! Yes, I fucking understand, thank you so fucking much for reminding me of what a terrible child and sister I am, I’m well aware, thank you!” You scoffed and the voice on the other side just got louder. “Is that Neil? Neil’s listening to this? Are your fucking joking me right now Rich?!” You gripped the railing with your free hand, a bruising grip around the cold metal. “Yes, hi sweetheart, I-I’m good… alright thank you sweetheart, bye. Fuck you Rich, no, no, seriously, fuck you. Get fucked, genuinely,” you sighed, eye closing, shoulders tense. Jack didn’t think he’d ever heard you curse so much. You rolled your shoulders and spoke again, brow furrowing. “What? I know she’s your ex-wife, but seriously? Fuck the wedding! I’m not driving for 7 hours to attend a wedding of a woman I literally don’t fucking know! Oh wow! That’s really fucking mature Rich, yes I know I’ve been living in Pittsburgh, thank you so much for fucking reminding me…- oh my god are you seriously still not fucking over that?! I had to leave! Oh, I’m so sorry did Donna try to kill you? Exactly, you fuckin’ jag-off,” you shouted over the phone, and finally made eye contact with Jack, realising he’d been standing there. Your voice evened out. “I have to go- I get it, alright, I fucking get it! Jesus, good-fucking-bye! Yeah fuck you too, alright? Love you Rich, I’ll think about it- alright, bye.” You were both quiet for a moment, just letting the energy of that call dissipate.
You pushed yourself off the railing, and turned to him. You let out a breath. “How much of that did you hear?”
“Who’s Donna and why did she try to kill you?” He asked, amusement laced in his tone. It quickly faded when that sad chuckle left your lips. You shook your head and pushed your phone into your pocket, then walked over to him and fell into his chest.
“She’s my mom and she hates me,” you shrugged as he wrapped his arms around you. He had to find out how fucking insane your family was eventually, right? “You alright?” You asked, pulling back to look at him. “Shouldn’t you have gone home already?”
He tucked a bit of hair behind your ear and shook his head. The fact that you’d glossed over the fact that you mom hates you made his heart hurt a little bit. You never talked about family or how you grew up, all he knew was that you were from Chicago, you had a sister and two brothers, and you never wanted to go back. He didn’t push, much like you didn’t push with his upbringing after he’d told you about it. “Waiting on you,” he smiled softly. “You did great today,” he cooed. “I’m proud.”
You nodded and offered him that tired smile he’d grown so used to, and he just had to lean in and kiss you. Soft lips meeting his, a gentle kiss, and a real smile on both your faces as you walked back into the ED. Dana sent you a look that you ignored, and you slipped away from Jack for just a moment to find Gloria.
But you didn’t tell him that.
The drive to Chicago was miserable, it always was. Nearly 7 hours of open road, an empty car, and a playlist that no matter how loud you turned the stereo, you still couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in your chest and the thoughts in your head. You had told Jack you were sick and to avoid your apartment lest he felt the need to be consumed by the flu. He seemed to be staying away effectively, so you were going to be homefree for the weekend. The fucking wedding though, that stupid guilt trip Richie had somehow convinced you to attend, just for him. You’d see Sugar, and Carmen, and Richie, and your Mom, and everyone else you wanted to forget. You’d notice the space where Mikey should be. You’d see the empty glass that should be in his hand. You’d see the lack of floppy brown hair and stupid jokes that should entertain you all night long, and act prouder than anyone ever had. Well, maybe Mikey’s pride in you was rivaled by Jack’s, but you didn’t want to admit that to yourself.
A phone call came in, and you rolled your eyes. Still, you answered it.
“Where are you?” Jack’s voice was harsh, annoyed, angry. You fumbled with your phone for a second, debating on whether to crash into another car, or just tell him the truth.
“The highway,” you finally answered, deciding that maybe vehicular manslaughter is a bad idea, and insurance fraud is just stupid to go to jail for. “I’m going home for the weekend.”
He huffed out a sigh, and you heard something thump down on a table. “I’m at your apartment. Was going to take care of you this weekend,” he admitted, and your heart squeezed. That voice in your head that sounded a little bit like your mother’s chimed in. God, you don’t deserve him. You’ll never deserve him. Why would you think he’d ever stay with you? Not when you’re this broken. “How far are you?”
You took in a sharp breath and started. “Jack, I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want to rope you into this shit and seriously, you’d thank me if you knew them-”
“How far are you from your apartment?” He asked, enunciating every single word with that terrifyingly calm voice. The one he used with combative patients and med students, the one he’d never used with you.
“45 minutes.” You gulped.
“Turn around, come get me, I’m coming with you.” He said finally, and he hung up. The pit in your stomach only grew. You turned around. Maybe it was the selfishness of not wanting to be alone this weekend, maybe it was the fear that you would lose him if you didn’t, maybe it was just because he’d asked you to.
You were parked up outside your apartment in 35 minutes thanks to quick traffic. Jack was waiting on the curb, a suitcase, crutches, and his waterproof prosthetic beside him. With that hardened look on his face. Determination. You had seen it so many times before. Boyfriends insisted they wanted to meet your family, despite what you’d told them. You would just have to watch as the night went on. They’d go quiet, sorry, not quiet, fucking silent. They’d shrink, become less and less enthused by the idea of a future with you as they watched the past you’d had to deal with play out in front of them. A week later, you’d get some excuse about why it wasn’t working. Sometimes they were brave enough to admit it was the family baggage. Others ghosted, and others just didn’t give a reason. He opened the boot of your car, shoved his things beside yours, and walked around to the driver’s side of the car. You stared at him, and he stared back at you.
“Well you’re not driving,” he said it like it was obvious. It was to him, considering driving had never been a favourite pastime of yours. You rolled your eyes but jumped out of your seat and swung around to the passenger. So, he wasn’t completely livid with you, that was good, right? Well, he had every right to be, you had lied. “I’m not mad,” he explained as he started the car and drove off for Chicago. “I just want to understand why you felt like you couldn’t tell me. Or… bring me.” He cleared his throat after that last part, but his vulnerability had been visible anyway. Your heart sank, he couldn’t really think you didn’t want to bring him because of him, god no.
You turned to him, putting a hand over his. “God no, Jack. Please don’t think I was trying not to bring you because of anything other than the fact that my family is fucking crazy,” you practically begged, squeezing his hand. He didn’t glance in your direction. You let out a sigh and cleared your throat. “Jack, fuck, my mom’s an alcoholic, my dad died, my eldest brother blew his brains out in 2022, my twin brother is like the most mentally unwell but functioning human being, and my sister just had a baby. My cousin who’s not really my cousin-” you tried to explain it as best you could, hoping he didn’t notice the wobble in your voice. “His ex-wife is getting remarried and he’s showing up for her and their daughter, and he asked me to come, and since I haven’t been home in ages, everyone is going to be on my ass, including everyone from the Bear, and all the fucking Faks, and it’s just- it’s going to be a shitshow!” Thankfully, you were stopped at a redlight, and he could finally look at you. Notice the lip-bite that was stopping you from losing it. Notice the quick breathing. Notice the fear in your eyes, the kind that screamed ‘please don’t leave me now’.
“What’s a Fak?” He questioned, and the genuine confusion in his tone made you laugh. He was always good at that, giving you moments of light in your darkest times. Like that time you had to code a little boy who eventually didn’t make it. He’d brought you up to the roof and made some dumb joke about something Robby had done, and you laughed. You laughed until you cried, and he held you. He didn’t complain, just stroked your hair and back, and held you. Like you were precious and worth-it, and not a complete burden. Maybe that’s why you fell in love with him. “And what’s the Bear?”
You huffed, sitting back in your seat, groaning. “The Faks are more cousins, kind of, and the Bear is my brother’s restaurant. It used to be my older brother’s sandwich spot, but he’s turned it into this fine-dining fuckery thing,” you scoffed, and he sent you a look. “I curse when I go home.” You shrugged.
“Noted.” He nodded.
It was past midnight by the time you and Jack pulled into the Berzatto-Kasinsky home. Ringing the doorbell seemed risky, so you just texted Pete that you were outside. The door was open in a matter of seconds, with a very happy looking Pete.
“Hey Doc-! And…?” He searched for his name (which you’d never told anyone back home).
“Jack,” you filled in. “Jack Abbot, Peter Kasinsky,” you introduced them and they shook hands. You skillfully evaded Jack’s eyeline as you both walked in. “Is Sug up?”
Pete smiled, nodding. “She’s just with the baby.” He was glowing with pride for both of them, you could tell. When Natalie first introduced Pete to the family, you’d been so confused. You were just a med student back then, but you had been so shocked that she’d picked someone so outside of the norm for Berzatto women. Now, you could see exactly why, because you had your own Pete, who yeah, maybe was a bit more rough and tumble occasionally, but he was soft. Soft when you needed him to be, kind always, and constantly there. It was nice.
“Fucking finally back in Chicagoland?” God, she sounded too much like your mother sometimes. It gave you chills. “Where have you been, Doc?” She pulled you into a hug before you knew what was going on, and you just accepted it graciously, hoping it would be over soon. “Oh my god, is this the boyfriend? I thought you were never going to bring him home?” She stared at Jack, who just waved, poorly concealing an awkward smirk. “You do know mom is going to be there tomorrow, right? She’s going to have something to say-”
You gently pushed her off. “Yes, Sug, I know. She always has something to fucking say. This is my boyfriend, Jack Abbot, meet my sister, Natalie Berzatto.” You introduced them, and she shook his hand graciously before turning her attention back to you.
“Everyone’s going to be looking for you tomorrow-” “I know.” “Have you heard about what’s been happening?” “No, Sug.” “Have you updated mom or Carm on anything recently? Because you know they think you’re mad or dying, or both-?”
“Obviously fucking not, Sugar,” you scoffed, dropping your bag on the ground (probably far too loud for the current audience). “And as you can see, I’m alive. Jack takes great fucking care of me, and as for Bear and Mom, I plan on avoiding the fuck out of both of them, all fucking weekend. Thank you for the questionnaire, but we’re both completely exhausted, and we’d love to get some sleep before tomorrow’s shitshow begins. Thanks.” You took Jack’s hand and led him downstairs to their basement guest room, and shut the door of the bathroom without a word.
You put a hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your sobs as you showered the day off you. God, you hated Chicago. You hated how much Mikey haunted everything. You hated how little everyone talked about him. You hated that Jack was here, getting a front row seat to your slow breakdown, and the insanity of your family. You hated how you already felt like you were losing him.
Knock knock.
The door was unlocked, but of course he would give you that space, give you a chance to refuse. You didn’t. “Come in.”
He was in the shower and holding you before you really knew what was happening. The tears came unexpectedly too, but he held you through them anyway, taking his time as he washed your hair, and washed your body. The words started falling from your lips. Might as well tell him now so when he breaks up with you, he’ll have all the facts. “I did some of my early residency at Rush hospital. It’s a 13 minute drive from State Street Bridge. Mikey shot himself in the head on the State Street Bridge. Someone had reported a body in the water, and when his body was fucking fished out they brought him to our coroner. I was on my second round of placement, and it was my first week of mortuary. He got wheeled in, and I knew right away. I didn’t even have to lift the sheet, I just felt it. He was meant to be picking me up from my shift, but he hadn’t been calling me to come out like he usually did when I was finished my shift, fuck Jack, he used to call me all the time,” you sobbed into his chest as he held you. “Then I had to call my mom, and Nat, and then I called Carmen but he was in New York, and when I told him, he just hung up. He just fucking hung up at me, and he didn’t fucking come to the funeral, and he’s all fucking great now, and that’s awesome. But I’m not great. I’m fucking awful, and I miss my brothers!” Your sobbing had become uncontrollable, and your words unintelligible, so he just let you cry into him, held you up when your body nearly gave out, and helped you into some pyjamas and into bed.
He was quiet. He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it without it being a big deal. He was just surprised you’d never told him before, not exactly hurt, but not exactly alright with it. He’d told you everything, his war stories, his wife, his family. He’d unloaded everything of his, and yet you hadn’t so much as skimmed the surface with yours. He wasn’t mad, he just… wanted to be there for you in the way you were for him. It was only fair.
You took his silence as regret, as it had been with every other boyfriend. You lay, staring up at the ceiling, and debating how your life would look without him in it. How you two would work together despite the breakup. It filled you with a sense of rage. Not even at him. Just… at the situation. You’d grown up in a terrible home, and you had to subject him to it, then watch him leave. You lost him in every fucking scenerio. Your brain turned that idea of him leaving (idea without any probable cause) into a certainty. Then turned it into his ‘ploy to break up with you’. Your brain convinced you, in a matter of moments, that Jack had really been using this trip to break up with you. “Fuck, this is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” you let out in a hoarse voice. “A fucking reason to end things.”
He shot up from his spot on the bed, confusion pulling at his features. Even in the dark you could see how offended he was. “What?”
You scoffed, turning over. “Just forget it.” You brushed his hand off your shoulder and tried to just focus on getting some sleep for tomorrow.
“No, I will not just forget it, what are you saying?” He challenged, exasperated. He turned you over forcefully, making you meet his eyes. “I love you. I love you. I don’t give a fuck if your family are crackheads, or fucking murderers. I’m not here for them, I’m here so you don’t have to go through this weekend alone. That’s all I care about. I care about you getting back to Pittsburgh in one piece. I care about you being happy. I don’t care about your sister, or your twin, or your mother. I care about you, because you’re mine to protect, alright?” He affirmed, hands cupping your face like you were the most important thing to him. He brushed away the few stray tears that had slipped out. “Alright?”
You nodded, surging forward and capturing his lips in a ;ess than gentle kiss. You were pouring all your gratitude and apologies into it, as he poured all his affection and care. You pulled back, nodding. “Alright.”
He smiled. You fell asleep against his chest.
You woke up with a bang. A literal bang. Well, a car horn. Richie’s stupid fucking car horn. Beside you, Jack stirred and tightened his grip on you. You groaned into your pillow and wrapped a hand around Jack’s wrist. “I’m sorry about today.” You frowned. He cracked a smile.
“It hasn’t even happened yet.” He chuckled, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth. He peppered kisses along your skin in that effortlessly romantic way he did everything. Sometimes you wanted to throttle him for it.
“Exactly, have to get it in early,” you gave him a grim smile, and got out of bed, though not without a struggle. The noise of the front door opening filled your ears. “Don’t come upstairs for a while, wait till I call you. Or wait till I start screaming.” You called after yourself as you climbed the stairs.
“Whatever you say, boss,” he nodded sarcastically, rolling back over in bed, pulling on his reading glasses, and turning his phone on. “It’s fucking 9am. Crazy people” He said to no one in particular before opening up the Wordle.
Upstairs, you were already being inundated with information from Sugar about what was going on with the wedding, hearing from Neil about how the restaurant is going, watching as Sammy Fak fumbled with the fridge door, staring as Teddy Fak tried to work the kettle, trying to understand the quiet introduction coming out of Sydney's mouth, and holding a baby. Somehow, still more chill than the Pitt. You continued on your journey for coffee as you introduced yourself to Sydney, while Sugar screamed at Neil.
“No, you fuckin’ bitch, I fuckin’ told you not to fuckin’ invite her and me to the same fuckin’ thing, and you fuckin’ invite her!” Sugar groaned as Neil stood there looking far too guilty. “She’s a backstabbing bitch!”
“It’s not my wedding!” He argued, faking innocence like a toddler caught with his hand in a cookie jar. You finally reached the coffee machine. Richie was already trying to talk your ear off about the wedding. Both Sammy and Ted sent you a very enthusiastic hello, swallowing you up in a too-tight hug that you barely peeled away from.
“Look, I’m glad you came, thank you, cousin. Means a lot,” He smiled tentatively. You nodded, acknowledging his gratitude. “I don’t know how I’m goin’ to fuckin’ do this.” You realised you’d mistaken anxiety for tentativeness while you watched him play with his tie. Shit, since when did Rich wear suits?
“You wear suits now?” You questioned, pouring yourself a mug with one hand. You bounced the new baby in your other arm and smiled down at the sack of soft bones, and even softer skin. If you hadn’t been an ER doctor, you would’ve been an ob-gyn. You like kids, but you love taking care of them when they’re newborn and can’t talk back. To your left, Sammy nearly opened a door in his face, but you reached out a hand to stop him, as Sugar called Francine a cunt repeatedly.
You smiled. “I know,” part of you wanted to spill it right then and there. Tell him that the only reason you looked healthy at all was because your attending-turned-boyfriend made sure you took breaks at, and from work. Tell him that days spent at overpriced farmer’s markets and in his apartment were your favourite days. Tell him that a guy you jokingly called grandpa was your favourite person. Tell him that Jack was your first real piece of happiness since Mikey passed. Tell them that while you weren’t over it, you were finally starting to build on top of it, and realise that grief doesn’t go away, it just gets less loud. You shook it off. “Who’s she talking about?” You questioned, taking a sip of your coffee and looking to Pete for an answer. He grimaced. “Don’t tell me it’s Francie-?”
Sugar whipped around faster than lightning. “Do not speak that name in my fuckin’ house!” She pointed a vicious finger at you, and you held up a hand in mock surrender. Pete offered an apologetic smile which you acknowledged, then handed his baby back. Sugar continued on her rant as Richie watched, and Sydney pretended that she cared to be there.
“Hey, I know we haven’t met before, but I’m Sydney,” she held out her hand to be shook and you took it. You quickly told her your name, and turned your attention back to the coffee. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
You grimaced. “Oh yeah? Did Carmen tell you about the time I shaved his head in his sleep or…?” You asked, afraid of the things he’d said about you. Granted, there was much worse, but still, over a decade later, the last time you checked he was still butt-hurt about the fact that you’d shaved his head in his sleep.
She laughed. “No, surprisingly, but I have heard you’re an ER doctor?” You nodded. “Great! Cause’ I’m seriously going to need you to sedate me today or something, considering how bad everyone is making it sound.” She chuckled awkwardly. You smiled. She was sweet. A little awkward, very funny, and calm. You had no idea how she got into business with Carmen, but you hoped she had good mental health resources.
“Whatever you’ve been told about these things, people always get better with age. Some of us are still reeling from the disaster of the seven fishes from a few years ago, so don’t expect anything like that. I seriously doubt Tiffany would take it-” It was pretty hard to have a conversation over the sound of the coffee machine, Sugar’s breakdown, and whatever song Pete was humming to the baby, but you two somehow did it. You watched as Pete blessed himself when you mentioned that seven fishes dinner. Fucking forks man.
“Oh, so now you know Tiff, huh?” Richie scoffed, crossing his arms. “Where was this energy two weeks ago?”
“I don’t know her. I just know she didn’t put up with your shit, so I seriously doubt she’s putting up with the family’s.” You shrugged before picking up another mug to fill it for Jack, when Richie practically barked.
“Two mugs?” He questioned, eyes wide. Everything in the kitchen stopped. Sugar was the only person you’d told about Jack. You knew anyone else would’ve spilled it to your mom, and it would only be a matter of time before she started calling you and begging for you to bring him home. Even the thought alone made you shiver. You sucked in a deep breath.
“Two mugs,” you nodded. “I brought my boyfriend with me.”
You would’ve thought you’d just told the room you had gained the ability to fly. The three Faks dropped their jaws, and Neil started yapping, Teddy started complaining, and Sammy started congratulating. Sugar stopped her rant to watch the reaction coming out of Richie, which, granted, wasn’t great. He stared at you for a minute.
“Shut up- shut up shithead!” He shouted at the Faks, who complied pretty easily and went back to their pottering. “Boyfriend? Since when have you had a boyfriend?” He gawked.
“Since a year and 2 months ago,” you admitted. His jaw didn’t drop into a long lecture about lying (like you would’ve expected from him a year ago), it set back, genuine shock filling his features. “He’s an ER doctor like me, and he’s here to meet everyone and support me. And possibly save Francine’s life if Sug decides to kill her.” You tried to sneak in the joke to break the ice, but Richie’s face just hardened.
“You kept that for a year and 2 months?” He questioned.
You nodded. “Yeah, I did.”
“Carmy know?” He had that dangerous look in his eye, the one where you really couldn’t tell if he wanted to run out of there and never look back, or hang onto you and never let go. Fuck, his eyes were piercing through you. Still, you stood tall, firm in your choice. Jack was your one good thing. Jack was your everything.
You scoffed. “He doesn’t know anything about my life. I don’t even think he knows I live in Pittsburgh.” Not the greatest thing to admit, but it was the truth. Carm didn’t reach out and neither did you.
Richie swallowed the lecture he wanted to give you about sand and stones, and nodded. “Where is he?”
“Downstairs, in bed. I’ll bring him up when we’re dressed, alright?”
You didn’t wait for an answer before running down the stairs, seriously wondering if you’d made the right choice by coming home, and moreover, bringing Jack. Some of the anxiety settled as you watched Jack pull on his suit jacket, the one he filled out so well, with a little bit of a grumble.
“Alright there, old man?” You teased, dropping his coffee on the dresser in front of him. He grunted in response, taking a sip. He loved this, the quiet back and forth you two were so accustomed to. Though, there were still things to be addressed from last night. You’d gone nearly three years without admitting that your brother killed himself. Even more, you’d gone nearly three years without asking for his help. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him as you let out a small laugh. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, and you raised a hand to run through his hair gently. You two fit together, more than anyone else had.
“You wanna talk about last night?” He asked, his breath hot against your skin. There it was, the simple, no nonsense question. But this was nonsensical. It was emotional, it was unregulated, and it was a lot. It was too much for you to deal with most of the time, and Jack had his own baggage that he had to worry about, he didn’t need to start taking yours on. As if by magic, he opened his mouth again and gave you exactly the reassurance you needed. “Don’t worry about this being ‘too much’. I’m here for you. Literally, I’m in Chicago for you, but also emotionally. And I’m not leaving you.” He smiled, proud of his little unintentional pun.
You let out a half-huff, half-chuckle, and nodded. His arm around you fell as you pulled away to start getting ready for the wedding ahead of you. “It’s a lot.” You admitted. He nodded.
“So was my stuff. Neglectful parents, war, dead wife, PTSD, anxiety, etc,” he shrugged, crossing his arms as you started on your makeup in the mirror. God, he looked handsome. If it were any other day and you hadn’t just spent 10 minutes being surrounded by Faks and Berzattos, and Richie, you would’ve jumped his bones. “I’m also an emergency medicine doctor who has a habit of taking on too much from a patient perspective.”
You chuckled. “Molly tell you that?” You questioned, asking about his therapist. You and her were pretty friendly, especially after the few months of sessions where Jack asked you to join him so he could explain a bit about his past without shutting down. She was great for him, and he really liked how their work together made him feel. You were happy for him, glad he could work through it. He nodded with that ‘trying not to smile’ smile, and walked over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. Immediately, you could feel the heat of his hand through your (his) hoodie, and it just drove you insane. He waited patiently for you to start talking. “My mom used to drink a lot. My dad didn’t care, and he drank worse, and then he died, so I guess it wasn’t much different. We weren’t close, he was always off with Mikey. Everyone loved Mikey,” a teary smile invaded your features, but you pushed it down. You wanted Jack to understand. You wanted to be vulnerable. You wanted him to stay. “My mom drank more. She got more uncontrollable. More upset. More… rageful. I was 9 when she threw a plate at the floor that shattered and a piece lodged into my arm,” you pointed out the scar with an almost disinterested gaze, and he noticed. Of course he did. His lips pursed into a line, the thought of a little 9 year old you, just playing on the floor, getting a piece of fucking ceramic in your arm for no good reason, just because someone else couldn’t control their temper, it boiled his blood. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, so instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the raised skin. You stiffened under him, but kept speaking. “Richie got mad at her, started shouting, she shouted back. Carmen got the piece out. Sugar cleaned it up. Mikey just watched it all play out. Sometimes he got like that.” You shrugged, trying to keep the wobble out of your voice.
“Like what?” He asked, continuing to press soft kisses to your shoulder and neck. He knew how to calm you. First, just letting you talk. Second, he’d kiss you all over. Third, he’d start running his hands up and down your sides. It was weirdly comforting.
You knew the medical definition for it. He dissociated. You knew the full definition, able to read it off like a script from your week long stint in the psyche ward when you were still choosing a specialty. Dissociation is a mental process where a person disconnects from their thoughts, feelings, memories or sense of identity. He’d just sit there, staring off into space. Now, you knew there were other things going on in his head, but then, you just thought your big brother didn’t care, and you got angry. You’d ice him out for days, sometimes a full week. Now, that thought made your stomach turn. “He’d…” You still couldn’t say it. It felt too impersonal to diagnose him post-mortem.
“Dissociate?” Jack filled in. You nodded. “I see.”
“My mom only got worse. More passive aggressive. More regular-aggressive,” you rolled your eyes, shaking off the emotion from before. “Everyday there was a fucking fight, and it was always my fault. When family came over, things got worse. She’d shout at us in front of people, and they wouldn’t stop her because they felt bad. She’d married an abusive drunk, and they couldn’t fault her for being upset. Got worse again when Mikey left home. He was only living in the city, and we were in the suburbs, but God, you’d think he’d moved to fuckin’ Hong Kong. She talked about him like he was dead. She’d be on her best behaviour when he was coming around, so that was good. Carmen was a real anxious kid though, and everyone just told him he needed to toughen up. He used to draw. He’d draw these incredible pictures at lunch in high school, and some dickward would just come over and rip it up. Drove me crazy,” you shook your head, remembering the fear in Carmen’s eyes, and the pride in the bullies. “I got in so many fucking fights for him. Nearly got me kicked out of school. When I couldn’t deal with the kids, Rich and Mikey would. They’d scare the shit out of them, fake jump them or something. Carmen and I used to be super close.” You explained almost dreamily, finishing off your makeup and moving onto your hair.
“What changed?” he asked, helping you with the straightening iron. He’d made you teach him how to do various hair tricks with it so he could help you if needed. It took a bit of trial and error, and a lot of being burnt with the iron, but he got the hang of it. It nearly made your ovaries explode, watching him brush your hair.
You sighed. “When Mikey died, I kind of… lost it, just a little. Mikey was my big brother and I was taking care of him, trying to get him clean, using all my spare time, which was barely anything, to help him with the restaurant, or with anything he needed. I obviously was the first one to know, and I had to call everyone. I called Carmen. I told him. He hung up. I call him a hundred times, left him voicemails until his was full, and he didn’t fucking call me back. I begged him to come to the funeral, or at least text me back so I knew he was alive. I spent 4 nights calling New York ERs to check that he wasn’t dead. Mikey's funeral came around, and I was alone. Carmen didn’t come. My mom was on the verge of losing it every five seconds. Richie was still trying to fix his marriage. Sugar had Pete. I had no one. I expected him to be there, because he always promised me that if I asked him to do something, he’d move heaven and Earth to get it done. He let me down. So, I flew to New York, called him a bad brother, a coward, and a selfish bastard. I ambushed him outside of his work, and all he said was ‘I have to get back inside’. No sorry. No dropping everything and coming back home to help pick up the pieces. Nothing. He just walked back inside. He came home four months later, and by then I was already in Pittsburgh.”
Part of him wanted to just crawl into a hole and die. His heart broke for you. Everything you’d endured, everything you’d kept silent for so long, everything you’d swallowed. He cleared his throat and made eye contact with you through the mirror. “I’m sorry.” He practically whispered, but you heard it. It hit you square in the chest, and squeezed your heart. He was good at that.
“My mom doesn’t like me in general, but she specifically can’t look at me because I look the most like Carmen and Mikey. You’ll probably see her there today, wine glass in her hand, spewing nonsense,” you laughed, but it wasn’t funny. He nodded, pretending he didn’t notice the tremble in your shoulders. “And you’ll see Carmen.”
“I can introduce myself, if it makes it easier?” He offered, finishing off your hair.
You shook your head. “Ideally, I won’t leave your side today.” You admitted, standing up and kissing his cheek, before heading into the bathroom.
The tightness in his chest had eased, and the insecurity had subsided. You had opened up, even though it was hard, and you’d told him. You explained a fair bit of what happened before he knew you, and he almost felt a little giddy that you trusted him, but any happiness was soon crushed by the realisation of what happened to you. He couldn’t help but think of a younger you, with smaller features and less medical knowledge. That scared little girl he caught glimpses of occasionally, much like the glimpses you caught of the boy he used to be. The skinny one with freckles and bruises all over his skin. He liked to think you two could’ve been friends, if there wasn’t the age gap, or distance. Maybe he would’ve helped you fend off Carmen’s bullies, and you could’ve held him when he cried like you were so talented at doing now.
“What do you think?” You asked, stepping out in a gorgeous blue dress. The corners of his mouth rose, and he felt his boxers get a little tighter. You quickly spun around, and he captured your waist in his hand. God, you constantly took his breath away, whether it was the shitty scrubs from the machine, or a beautiful dress like this, or just lying in bed in one of his hoodies, he had no idea how he got so lucky.
“Beautiful.” He whispered before swallowing your lips in a kiss.
Walking upstairs was slightly awkward. Everyone was waiting, staring at you and Jack as you emerged from the basement. RIchie clenched his jaw, Sugar smiled a little too strangely, Pete was just Pete, Neil was already rushing over to introduce himself, Sammy had an eyebrow raised, Teddy was simply staring (and whispering to Sammy), and Sydney just gave you that awkward smile.
“Neil Fak.” He smiled, holding his hand out. Jack took it, and smiled.
“Jack Abbot.” He nodded. Neil kept shaking his hand, unrelenting as he stared at the man in front of him. Jack pretended it wasn’t awkward.
“Wow, you’re handsome,” Neil blurted out before he could stop himself, and you literally faceplanted as Jack tried not to laugh. Richie finally walked over and put everyone out of their misery, moving Neil out of the way as he tried to explain himself. “I mean like, objectively, he’s a very handsome guy-!?”
Richie ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Yeah, yeah Neil, we fuckin’ get it. Richie Jeromovitch, nice to meet ya,” next, he shook Jack's hand. He fell into his easy ‘italian’ charm, cracking jokes immediately. “Doc here treatin’ you good? She can be a real fuckin’ handful.”
Jack smiled and squeezed your hand harder. “She’s stubborn but so am I.” He beamed, and you rolled your eyes.
“Alright, since all the introductions are introduced, let’s go,” you led the charge to the front door with Jack trailing behind, and the rest of the group followed. “God, they are so fucking embarrassing.” You sighed as you started your car. “It’s actually painful to be around them.”
Jack laughed. “I like them.” He shrugged, fiddling with the radio.
You rolled your eyes again. “You ‘like’ them because Neil called you handsome.”
He chuckled. “Definitely helped.”
You scoffed, and focused on driving. These streets you hadn't seen in so long but knew so damn well. Millenium Park. Your old college campus. Your old hospital. All those silly little restaurants your parents would drag you out to. All those streets you’d walked a thousand times before, Mikey by your side making some wise-ass comments about anything. God, you missed it, missed him. Even the suburbs reeked of him, and he rarely lived at home for much of your remembered childhood. The sidewalks you played on, the playground he chased you in, everything. It was all Mikey and Carmen and Sugar and Mom, and you wanted to puke.
Thankfully, the drive ended rather quickly, and you were outside Tiffany’s new home.
Unfortunately, Richie started spiraling.
Sydney stepped in, standing with him while you made Jack walk in with Sugar and Pete, then you came right back out to help. So much for not leaving his side. “Just… take your time,” she instructed as he chain-smoked like a fucking train. “You’re good.” Shit, so much had changed. Richie was actually starting to get in-touch with his emotions? Unheard of. Maybe Mikey dying had done something good.
He let out a weird strangled groan. “It’s gonna be fine.” He said it like he was trying to convince himself too, which he clearly was. You nodded.
“It’s gonna be fine.” Sydney parroted, nodding her head along with yours. Richie turned to the both of you.
“Is it, right?” He asked, taking yet another drag of his cigarette.
She jumped in before you could make a joke about a meteor hitting the house, or that nothing could be as bad as February 22nd and the week that followed. “Think so.” She offered him a soft smile. God, you almost forgot that some people hadn’t been told to push everything down until you explode.
“Everything in life is just for a while.” You added, trying to be of any assistance. Both their heads snapped to you.
“Says who?” Richie asked, offering a cigarette to you, which you took despite the voice in the back of your head (Dana’s voice) insisting that it would kill you.
You faltered for a moment, lighting the cigarette with shaky hands. “Philip K. Dick.” You explained, taking a drag. God, you knew it was awful for you, but you missed smoking, especially on days where everything is going wrong in the ED and you have to just keep going. A smoke on the roof would surely fix all your problems.
Sydney nodded and shrugged. “Well, he’s right. Y’know everything… ends, eventually.”
“That’s the truth,” Richie pointed a finger at you, and you just nodded, enjoying the cancer stick between your lips. God, Jack would fucking lose it if he saw you smoking this. Richie doubled over, trying to get more air into his lungs. “God- fuck, what the fuck is wrong with me?” He questioned, standing back up. “God,” he breathed out. “What the fuck?” He stared at the building to his left, the tall redbrick structure in the nice part of town. It must’ve at least cost a million, or close to it. Richie turned back to Sydney. “How’s your dad?” he asked, desperately trying to distract himself from the ongoing anxiety attack he was clearly having. “That’s real shit, I’m being a little fuckin’ asshole.”
You looked to Sydney. “He’s much better. Thanks. Resting. Got five days off of work which he’s loving and also kinda hating.” She explained. You guessed he probably had a heart attack, you had a weird knack for guessing heart attacks. She seemed relieved that he was alright, which you always love to see from patients' families.
“Good, that’s good. Fuck!” Richie groaned. “Fuck! Fuck guys, everythings…” He trailed off, starting into this half-groan, half- cry thing that made you violently uncomfortable. You’d held parents when their children died. You’d held mothers when their baby died coming out of them. You’d held siblings and friends who watched their sibling or friend die. You’ve held husbands who lost their wives, and wives who lost their husbands. You’d held husbands who’d lost their husbands, and wives who’d lost their wives. You’d held children who were orphans. You’d held your own fucking friends and family of the Pitt when people were lost, or people were hurt. Yet, you couldn’t fathom being there for when anyone here broke down. Everyone here was meant to swallow it, and let it fester until they either died of old age, or blew their brains out off the side of a bridge.
“Hey,” Sydney had such a soothing voice. “It’s okay to be… nervous.”
“Good, ‘cause I am.” Richie breathed out. You puffed out another cloud of smoke.
“I get it,” Sydney let out. Richie asked if she was nervous too. “I mean, not about this, obviously, but…”
“What are you nervous about?” He asked, his voice trembling despite the way he was trying to keep himself calm. She looked like she was trying to make a decision that seemed impossible. You let out another puff of smoke.
She smiled softly. “Tell you later?” She offered.
“Promise?” “Promise.”
“Fuck, Doc, will you hold my cigarette for a second, I think I’m about to throw up,” he announced, doubling over again. Sydney started to back away, repeating no over and over again. “Please?” He pushed it in your direction, and you sighed and took it.
You knelt down to meet his eyes. “Richie, I am fucking terrified to walk into that house because I know what I’m going to find. Bitchy comments and strange looks from people who used to know me, yeah?” He nodded along, spitting out some saliva at your feet. “But everyone in there knows you. They love you. Even if they don’t, there’s at least one person in there who does, and that’s Eva. She needs her dad in there, because everything in her life is fucking changing, and she needs you to be a constant, alright?” You cupped a hand on his cheek as he nodded. “Also both me and Sydney are wearing open-toed shoes, so, don’t fucking vomit.” You stood up again, dropping his cigarette to the floor and crushing it under your heel.
He stood back up, flailing his hand for a second. “I think all this shit is really fuckin’ me up and that’s why my pre-service speeches have been such fuckin’ shit, they-fuck-suck-SHIT!” He spoke almost too fast to be understood, but both you and Sydney called his name a few times to bring him back down. “I’m just a fuckin’ man! Being a fuckin’ baby!” Sydney called out his name one last time, and he finally looked at her. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth a few times, and he copied her. Hell, you fucking copied her.
“Let’s just get through this, yeah?” She said, not expecting anything. You were already impressed by her. Completely calm nature, logical thinking, and emotional intelligence? She must hate herself to have gotten into business with Carmen Berzatto.
Richie walked up to her and pulled her into a hug. “Thank you for coming with me,” he breathed out. He then turned to you. “Thank you for coming with me,” he hugged you too, and you almost pushed him away because he reminded you of Mikey. Same bone-crushing hug, same fucking coglone, same fucking cigarettes. You didn’t. You hugged him back and nodded. “Let’s do this shit.”
“Fuck yeah.” She breathed out, following behind him.
You wanted the Earth to swallow you up as you walked in behind them, discarding your cigarette just outside the door. The house was beautiful, immaculately decorated with clean white walls and artistic wall hangings on every fucking flat surface. You hated people who had their life together. Your and Jack’s apartment had paint-test strips on the wall and pictures on the floor neither of you had even thought about hanging yet. You sought out Jack first, seeing him standing beside Pete as he recounted another old law story that Jack was half-listening to.
Fuck, he did look handsome. Crisp baby blue shirt with an even paler blue blazer and matching pants. He looked stunning. You caught his eye almost immediately and he smiled as you walked up, inserting yourself beside him.
“Richie alright?” Sugar asked, coming up beside Pete, interrupting him.
You nodded. “He’s fine. Sydney calmed him right down. She’s great, by the way, I really like her.”
Sugar smiled. “Everyone likes Sydney,” she rolled her eyes. “Have you seen-?”
“Not yet.” You gritted out. Jack squeezed your waist, a common sign of affection from him. It says everything. I’m here. I’m sorry. I care. You loved it. Just then, because of course you’re that lucky, Carmen walked in the door in a blue shirt and navy blazer, eyes wide with anxiety, and he hugged Tiff. You thought back to the last time you’d seen Carmen.
You’d made a rash decision and booked a flight to New York, planning on making him explain himself. It was the least all of you deserved, you just couldn’t understand why no one else saw it like that. He’s grieving in his own way, everyone told you. Yeah, so were you. You stayed up late and sobbed for hours. You had a panic attack any time you walked by the morgue in your hospital. You picked up emergency medicine. You researched hospital residency programs hours away. You stopped eating sandwiches. Carmen was functioning just fine, especially if you were going off of the fucking New York Times article that had just been released about him. He was the biggest up-and-coming chef in the world, and everyone clearly wanted a piece of him. You wanted to shove his head into a vat of acid, hopefully it would wake him up from whatever stupid fucking trance he was in.
You showed up at his job (probably not the greatest choice), and you waited by the back door, cigarette box in hand. You smoked the whole pack before he came out, twitching and blinking like he was on heroin. For a moment, you accepted that as an answer. You felt guilty for the messages you’d sent him about how he always ran away from things the second they became difficult. How he constantly let people down and ran away because he was scared of actual communication and confrontation. How he’d broken his promise of protecting you, and always being there when you’d call. Then you remembered his deathly fear of needles, and all your sympathy was gone.
“You fucking prick!” You screamed, shoving his chef-whites-wearing ass against the back wall, dumpsters to your left. For a second, his hands went to your throat, eyes wide and almost ready to fucking kill you. Then you saw the recognition, the adrenaline still there, but aware of the lack of threat. His hands dropped. “Where were you!?” You shouted, completely uncaring of what would happen if someone found you out here with him, with him like this.
His mouth parted like he was going to say something, but nothing came out. Those stupid fucking blue eyes you shared, the ones you’d grown up beside, wild and uneasy. “Doc, come on-”
“Don’t fucking ‘Doc’ me, not now, you fucking coward!” You shouted, slamming your hand down on the metal dumpster beside you. “Explain yourself. Make me understand why you couldn’t show up for Mikey, or Mom, or Sugar, or Richie. Explain to me how you couldn’t even show up for me. Even after all the fucking times you begged me to believe your promises. After all the other times you didn’t show up.” You couldn’t hide the way your voice was breaking. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t start crying, that you couldn’t give him that. But of course you did. The image of Mikey in a fucking hospital gown with no back of his head. The image of tagging him, with your residency friends holding you up so you wouldn’t collapse. The image of his fucking funeral, him lying in that stupid fucking casket, completely lifeless. No more smart jokes or stupid fucking points about shit that didn’t matter. Just nothing. The image of your mom’s house the day you’d told her. You and Sugar had swung by, and the place was in shambles. Pictures torn down off the walls, plates broken in the kitchen, Donna curled up in his bed, holding a picture of her baby, and sobbing. You thought you would lose her too.
He didn’t have an answer. He showed up, but he couldn’t walk in there. He could believe Mikey would do this, and put him in this position. He loved his brother. He loved his sister. He loved you. He didn’t have the answer you were looking for, so he didn’t speak. His mind snapped back to the kitchen, back to Chef David, and how fucking behind he already was. The words left his mouth before he thought about them. “Doc, you have to get out of here, I’m at work-”
A hand met his cheek. In hindsight, you shouldn’t have done that, but it felt damn good in the moment. “Work is always more fucking important than me, right? You and dad are the same selfish bastard in a new fucking skin, y’know that? Y’know what I’ve had to deal with for the past fucking three weeks? Mom, calling me at all fucking hours, drunk out of her mind, and just crying until I go or Sugar goes and finds her, completely inundated with grief. Sugar has been fucking impossible to fucking talk to, because she just sees Mikey when she looks at me. She just sees you when she looks at me. And you didn’t show up,” you sniffled, tears streaming down your face. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t break. He didn’t do anything. He just… stood there. Acting like this wasn’t the end of the world. Acting like your life hadn’t completely fucking changed. So you accepted it. Not prettily. Not happily. But you accepted it. “You’re a coward, a bad brother, and a fucking selfish bitch, Carmy. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t fucking come home. I won’t be there.” You pushed off him, and walked away, breaking for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Sorrow and grief swallowed you for a night in the city that never sleeps. You found a bench somewhere, and you just questioned why any of this had to happen.
He should’ve reached out and begged for forgiveness. He should’ve grabbed onto your arm and asked what you meant, making sure you wouldn’t do anything stupid. He didn’t. He straightened out his chef whites, and he walked back inside. He didn’t think about what you’d said. He didn’t think about Sugar back home, inconsolable. He didn’t think about Richie drowning his sorrows and ruining his marriage. He didn’t think about you or your residency program or how hard you were trying to hold things together when they were crumbling.
He turned inside, and he went back to the kitchen.
Your mind snapped back to the party in front of you, the sight of Jack explaining something medical to Pete, while he listened intently, and the hilarity of Sugar’s terrifying glare being used on Neil. You didn’t look at Carmen again. You didn’t want to. You smiled at the man who made you happy everyday. The man who carried your favourite protein bar in his car, jacket pocket, and cargos. The man who made you take breaks and openly admitted you were his favourite. The man who loved you, wholley. God, you hoped you weren’t losing him.
Carmen looked up from his conversation with Tiff, and he stared. His heart stopped, he was sure of it. You were back in Chicago. Since that night in New York, he hadn’t heard from you, or even about you. He didn’t know where you were. He didn’t know what you were doing. He didn’t know if you wanted to talk. He didn’t know anything. Quickly, he started to walk. Not away, not like he used to. No. He walked towards you, until he was in front of you.
You and Carmen always had the same piercing blue eyes. It used to unsettle people, how bright they were. He cleared his throat, stopping the conversation happening between Sydney, Jack, and Pete. Sugar had her eyes set on the two of you. His tunnel vision had blocked out the rest of them, just focusing on you. You looked different. Different hair, different clothes, different you. You looked older. Prettier. Happier. “You’re… here.”
You nodded slowly, face unchanging. “I am.” God, since when was conversing with your own twin awkward. This was so awful.
Carmen fiddled with his fingers just a bit, straightening his spine. “You left.” He said it like he still didn’t believe it, like it hadn’t been the truth for years.
You nodded again, hand gripping your glass just a little tighter. “I did.”
He tried to steady his voice, and Sydney started her deep breaths beside you, which you followed, trying desperately to hold onto any semblance of calm you had. Think nice thoughts, you told yourself. Takeout with Mel on a Thursday during shift change. Drinks out with Trinity and Yolanda, dragging an unimpressed Jack with you. Friday night date night where you got fucked into oblivion in your bed. Heads Up in the break room during slow moments with Ellis and Shen. Making saves. Helping people. He opened his mouth again. “W-where did you go-?” Just then the fucking Faks burst in, stealing Pete from the situation, trying to convince him to fund yet another one of their terrible ploys. The commotion was just enough for you to slip away, pulling Jack behind you.
Once you’d made your way outside of the main house, you pulled Jack by his collar, and smashed your lips against his. This wasn’t a nice kiss, it wasn’t kind either. It was serving its purpose, grounding you, reminding you that there was a world outside of Chicago, and that you lived in it every other day of the year. He pulled back gently, warm hands on your waist, and a raised eyebrow.
“Don’t,” you sighed, pulling a cigarette out of your bag (you might’ve stolen Richie’s pack inside). “And don’t fucking lecture me right now.” You pointed a finger at his chest, then turned back to lighting your cigarette. You could feel the disapproval from his fucking breath, but he didn’t lecture.
He just ran a hand up and down your back, sighing. “It’s pretty full-on in there, eh?” He questioned, pressing a kiss to your neck. You nodded as you let out a puff of smoke. “Can I do anything?” He asked, like he fucking always did. God, you didn’t deserve him. He was so good, so kind. He was always asking you what he could do for you. It drove you insane because he was so thoughtful.
You shook your head. “Don’t leave me?” You added, a pitiful attempt at humour. His jaw clenched and he physically turned you to look at him.
His heart broke, you thought he’d leave you? Insane. I couldn’t ever. “I’m not leaving you. You hear me?” He asked, a hand cradling your jaw as he stared at you with those impossibly brown eyes. You nodded. “You’re too fucking important to me, alright? I can’t live without you, yes?” He asked, forcing eye contact. You had no idea how he fucking did this, saying the most vulnerable things and keeping (forcing) eye contact.
“Yes.” You agreed, even if you didn’t believe him. You brought the cigarette back up to your mouth, but he snatched it before you could take another drag. He threw it on the floor, crushing it under his shoe. You rolled your eyes, and he gave you that look.
A voice you knew all too well came up behind you. “Can’t hide from me forever, can you?” Claire.
You both went into emergency medicine at the same time. She stayed in Chicago, you went to Pittsburgh. You lost contact mostly, sometimes she’d comment on your instagram, or you’d send her some ER meme.
“Claire,” you whipped around, smiling at her. “How are you?” She looked good, a little older, a little wiser, just as beautiful as before.
She swallowed you up in a hug. “Jesus Christ, it’s been so long!” She beamed. “I’m good, thank you. How are you?” She asked, pulling back. “And who is this?” She turned her attention to Jack, who smiled back.
“I’m good, thank you. Really good, actually,” you were lying through your teeth, but she didn’t seem to notice. When you were home, back in Pittsburgh with a few days off, you were really good. Right now, stuck in shitty Chicago with all your ghosts, you were feeling terrible. “This is Dr. Jack Abbot, my boyfriend.” You introduced and he shook her hand. She sent you a wink, and a mouthed ‘he’s hot’ that Jack definitely didn’t miss. He stifled a laugh behind his hand as you and Claire just looked at each other.
“I read one of your papers, actually,” she admitted, rocking back and forth on her heels. “The one on gender disparity in the ER and how women are often misdiagnosed?” He nodded. “It was great,” she smiled giddily. “I showed it to all my colleagues. They all loved it.”
“Well, thank you,” he smiled. “You should really read Y/n’s newest paper on-” you cut him off by literally covering his mouth with your hand, making both him, and Claire giggle.
When would this hellish conversation end? “Enough about me!” You announced. “What about you? Anything new for you? Friends, boyfriends, family?”
She smiled, laughter easing. “Well, yeah, actually. Carm and I actually dated for a little while,” she confessed, messing with a ring on her index finger. “Nothing serious, a-and we broke up pretty quick. Nothing much since then. Well, until a few nights ago when he came to my house and told me he loved me, which was kinda… a lot,” a nervous chuckle left her lips, as your own jaw was close to being on the ground. Claire and Carmen. What the fuck? She was logical, she always had been. Methodical. Clean. Calm. He was completely the opposite, and not to mention, she was entirely out of his league. “But we’re good now. Over, for sure.” She clarified.
You didn’t know if you were going to be sick, or reach over and shake her. How did she end up with Carmen? How? “Oh. You and Carmen-?” You were going to explode into a very long lecture, and subsequent questionnaire, when Neil came up, jabbering about needing you for something to do with Eva. You turned to Claire before setting off. “We will revisit this.” Claire nodded, holding a thumbs up as you and Jack followed Neil
“Is she alright?” Jack asked, trailing behind the two of you. “Did she fall? Did she hit her head? Is she on fire?”
Neil looked horrified. “No! NO! Nothing like that! God, is that where your mind went? Jesus Christ. No, she’s just… she’s under the table, and she doesn’t want to leave. And now Frank and Richie are freaking out, like on the verge of a panic attack-”
“She’s the fucking cunt-!” “No she’s the fucking cunt!”
“Is that Sugar?” You questioned, eyes wild as you searched the room for her blonde hair. You found it, screaming at Francine. “Shit, alright, umm… Jack, you stay here and try to talk Richie and Frank out of their fucking panic attacks, I’ll be right back,” you decided, walking off to try and pull the women away from each other. Jimmy was standing beside them, looking like he would rather be slingshotted to the moon than be between them. You stalked over, trying to have your voice heard over theirs. It was times like these you wished you had the capacity for volume that Robby did. “Ladies! Let’s just fuckin’, no, Francine, I swear to fuck I will rip your hair out of your head if you so much as try to bite me one more fuckin’ time. Sugar- Sug- Natalie! Stop acting like fuckin’ schoolgirls- ohhh, do not fuckin’ piss me off right now. Is this how adults act-? No! I didn’t fuckin’ think so! Francie, lovely to see you, stay in the fucking house. Sugar, lovely to see you, stay in the fucking tent. Problem solved!” You clapped your hands together definitively, one of the Faks taking Francine away as Sugar stood in her place, rage radiating off of her. You grabbed a glass of champagne from a table nearby and handed it over to her, irritation rushing through your veins. “Grow up,” you scoffed before cheersing your glasses together. “Cheers!” You fake smiled before rushing off back to Jack and the boys. God you hated this fucking family. If you weren’t already so frazzled, you would’ve noticed the three people trailing you. You didn’t, you only stopped when you found Rich and Frank standing beside a table, with the hilarious image of Jack’s legs sticking out from under the table.
Behind you Stevie, Carmen, and Tiffany all stood. You genuinely jumped, tripping over Jack’s prosthetic leg, and falling on top of him. “Oh shit, sorry baby,” you sighed, rolling up his trousers and reattaching his leg the way you’d done a thousand times before. “You alright in there?” you practically whispered.
“All good.” He responded as you stood up, turning back to the trio in front of you.
“Is he a pirate?” Stevie smirked, that stupid smirk you’d always wanted to slap off his fucking face. You sent him that look, the one Dana called your ‘scary dog look’, and he nodded. “No jokes about the leg, got it. So, how are you?”
“Great, thanks Stevie,” your voice was dripping with sarcasm, mostly because that was the only language he understood. “How’s your lavender marriage?” You shot back, smoothing out your dress.
He laughed. “Hoo-ho! You got me there! Maybe we should ask Carmy here how many times he heard me and Michelle fuck while he was staying with us in New York, shall we?” He turned his head to Carmen, who was just staring at you.
He shook his head. “No, we shall not.”
You changed your focus to the beautiful bride in front of you. “Hey Tiff, congratulations,” you smiled, pulling her into a hug. You didn’t know her well, but you knew Richie, and when they started going out, he beamed. Even when they got married and things got hard, he was so fucking in love with her. “This place is beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she smiled. She was always so sweet. “How are you? How’s Pittsburgh?”
“Pittsburgh,” Carmen parroted. “You moved to Pittsburgh?”
“Yes, Carmen, PTMC had a great residency program,” you sent him a death glare, then turned back to Tiff. “I’m good thank you, yeah, Pittsburgh’s great. My boyfriend and I-” you pointed out Jack, who was still under the fucking table. “-are living together now so, yeah, it’s great.”
“Boyfriend, wow!” She beamed, holding your hands in hers. “That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you, and yeah, I’m so happy for you too,” you smiled. “And thank you for inviting me, that was more than kind.” You added, still feeling Carmen’s eyes on you.
“Oh, of course. We’re still family, right?” She smiled.
“Right,” you agreed. “So what’s going on with you-”
Carmen stepped in closer, eyes wild. “You moved to Pittsburgh and you didn’t tell me?” He asked, voice cracking like it did when he was upset. Everyone was quiet for a moment. Stevie smirked at the sight in front of him, he loved getting to watch the drama unfold. Tiff just watched, then took a silent step out, mouthing a ‘good luck’ in your direction. Frank and Richie were too busy bro-ing it out to realise the shitshow in front of them.
“You didn’t seem to care about me in New York,” you shrugged, crossing your arms. “And PTMC had a great residency program. I was thinking about my future-”
He let out a strangled laugh. “S-so you can show up to my work, my future, and scream a-at me to come home, but you didn’t fucking tell me where you went, and what, I’m just supposed to fucking take that becuase it’s about ‘your future’? What bullshit is that, Doc?”
You let out a sharp breath. “I’m sorry I did that, it wasn’t the right thing to do. I was just hurting, and I wanted you to understand but I didn’t know how to say it, so I just… I had to hurt you too. In hindsight, I’ve no doubt that you were grieving in your own way, I just… I couldn’t see it, and I’m sorry.” You fiddled with your dress, wishing all of this could just be over, that you could just teleport back to your apartment in Pittsburgh with Jack.
He stared, eyes fixed on your face. He nodded, quickly. He blinked. “T-Thank you, for apologising. I-I’m sorry too.”
You were shocked at that. Your eyebrows jumped up into your hairline, mouth dropping open slightly. You just nodded, mouth dry and throat burning with unshed tears.
“I think she just doesn’t want to dance,” Jack shrugged, standing up. “I think you need to be okay with that,” he explained to Frank. He stood up to find Carmen and Stevie in front of you, your shoulders clearly trembling. He wrapped a hand around your waist, and pulled you into him, squeezing your hip. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice gruff and low.
“Yeah, I’m-”
“Wow,” Donna’s voice cut through the noise in your head, and your heart dropped into your stomach. She sounded dreamy, like she was remembering a young set of twins that she hadn’t yet ruined. Stevie fell away, not wanting to be anywhere near Donna and you together. “Both my babies are right here.” She smiled, pulling Carmen into an awkward looking hug, and then turning to you with open arms. You couldn’t do it. You ducked out, rushing out of the tent as you felt bile rise in your throat. You sat in the garden for a while, train-smoking some cigarettes as you waited for the inevitable bomb to explode in your face.
Inside the tent, Carmen was staring at Jack Abbot like he didn’t know what to do with him, and Donna was looking at him like she had a thousand questions to ask.
Carmen cleared his throat. “You’re her boyfriend?” He asked, his voice wavering. Jack nodded his head with a soft smile. He decided to give you a bit of time on your own, especially when he could ensure you wouldn’t be bothered by your twin or mother for at least a little while. “How is she?”
Loaded question, he thought. He pursed his lips together. “She’s the best doctor I have on my staff, she’s one of the kindest people I know, and she misses you,” he shrugged. “She loves her job and she dedicates almost too much of herself to it. She’s the most popular doctor in the Pitt, and she deserves every piece of praise that she gets.”
Carmen nodded, then walked off, his breaths erratic and shallow. Jack cleared his throat, taking another sip of his water.
Donna smiled at him, a curious glint in her eye. “Do you like working there? At the Pitt with her?” She asked.
He broke out into a proper smile thinking about all the time you two had shared there. From your first day where you performed a perfect crike and central venous catheterization within 30 minutes on your first shift, to the day he kissed you for the first time on the roof, to the days now, where the only good thing in that building is you. “I do, very much so.” he grinned. She nodded.
“I always wanted to be a nurse, y’know,” she smiled that tight-lipped smile he was getting more used to. He saw the similarities in features, just when she tilted her head the right way.
“Oh really?” he coaxed, wanting her to talk more so that he didn’t have to.
“Yeah, I did. I did a course back in high school about CPR and everything, and I was… wow, it was a lot,” she chuckled. “I have no idea how you guys do it.”
He nodded, a goofy grin on his face. “Yeah, it’s… it’s still a lot sometimes, even for us.”
“I don’t think that ever changes,” she shook her head, playing with the ring on her finger. “So, she’s… she’s good?”
There it was, the question he was waiting for. “She’s… yeah. She’s great. She’s an attending now, she did her exams a few months ago, so… yeah. She’s great. I love her a lot,” he confessed, trying to keep a little bit of the pride out of his tone. “She’s so smart, and so quick, and… she was just made for it. She really cares about the people who walk in everyday, and she, she always knows what to say. She’s always trying to make things better for everyone else, including our staff. She just… she cares a lot. She’s nice to med students and new interns which is shockingly rare,” he chuckled, thinking of your relationships with Whitaker and Santos and Javadi, and how close you got with Mel. “She’s just… she’s so special. All her patients rave about her, all her collegues rave about her, hell, I fucking rave about her. What she does is special. Obviously, there’s moments where it’s hard, especially because she’s so hard on herself, but she’s incredible at what she does, and half of that is how she speaks to people. She just… she cares,” he shrugged, his heart swelling with pride. “She is just incredible and we are more than lucky to have her. I’m more than lucky to have her.”
She let out a fond laugh. “Really?” She pleaded, hoping what he was saying was true. He nodded. “That’s wonderful! I always knew she would be a doctor. She always wanted to fix things, that’s why we all call her Doc, because she was always bandaging scrapes and helping out Carmy with his…” she trailed off. “And how did you two meet?”
“I was her attending at the same hospital while she was finishing out her residency and we became friends, and then it just turned into more,” he shrugged. He knew this would come up, especially with the age difference and everything. She nodded. “We live together now, which is great. She's, unsurprisingly, a great cook.” He chuckled.
She was quiet for a moment, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Wow. You really… you really see her, don’t you?”
“I try to,” he breathed out. “She doesn’t always want to be seen.”
She shook her head, covering his hand with hers. “You see her, just like Mikey did. You understand her,” she smiled, one stray tear falling down her cheek. “That’s special.”
He smiled back at her, and nodded.
“Take care of my girl, alright?” she asked, voice breathy and full of emotion. He nodded, a solemn promise he’d made over a year ago, to himself. “Thank you.”
And she left. So he left and found you outside with a half-empty cigarette box, and tears streaming down your face. He helped you up, warm hands on your waist as he guided you through the party to your car, forgoing any and all proper goodbyes or thank you’s. You needed space. You needed time. He buckled you up into the passenger seat of your car, and set off for Sugar’s house.
“Thank you.” You whispered out, eyes already droopy after your very emotionally draining day.
He shook his head, squeezing your thigh in his hand. “Always.”
That was it. He’d always be there for you.
summary: the first night you stay over at jack's place goes well, and simultaneously badly.
pairing: jack abbot x fem! doctor! reader
warnings: SMUT 18+, PTSD FLASHBACKS, reader gets hurt, lowkey just fluff and jack being really traumatised
banners from my good friend @no-144444 !
Everyone in the Pitt always had something to fucking say.
Usually, it didn’t bother him. He let it fall off his shoulders as he showered his night off, ignoring all the shit people feel the need to say to him and anyone else. Tonight, it wasn’t falling off so easily. Robby had come to him, come to him about you. Warning him. Telling him not to get involved. Robby usually gave great advice but he’d missed the mark with this one. Sure, you were way younger than him. Sure, he was still healing from his divorce. Sure, it was probably stupid to think you’d ever want to be with an old fucker like himself, but it’s not like you didn’t drop hints. It’s not like you didn’t kiss him in the supply closet 3 months ago, and he hasn’t been able to look at you without smiling since. It’s not like you two have already been on 4 dates already. It’s not like you were in his bed as he showered, waiting for him.
Obviously not.
He shook his head, trying not to think about what Robby said. She’s a kid, Jack. Leave the girl to find someone like Langdon, or fuckin’ Whitaker, or something. She’s young. Too young, brother. He huffed as he pulled a towel around his body, balancing on one leg, before pulling his prosthetic on. That damn prosthetic. A constant fucking reminder of everything he wanted to forget. He didn’t want to think about Erik, who he had to stitch up in a fucking safehouse after they’d been hit with an air raid. He didn’t want to think about Tommy, who wouldn’t wake up no matter how hard he fucking tried to get him back. He didn’t want to think about Sam. That poor kid. He was fresh out of high school, but they sent him out, and he lost an arm on his first fucking day, and he begged Jack not to let him die. Them and the countless others. He hated it. Hated the war, hated the memories, but he hated the nightmares the most. That’s why he was thinking about it so much that night, it was your first night staying over. He'd told his brain not to think about it, so of course, it was all he could think about.
“You alright in there Abbot?” you yawned from his bedroom, and a sense of warmth spread through his chest. God, he loved having you here. It felt so natural to have you here, with him. You’d been over a few times, coffee and a catch-up after you’d been gone to visit family, the odd takeout and talking session when he got brave enough to offer it, or those times you came up to take care of him when he got the flu. He still thought about how you silently took care of him, even doing something as intimate as washing his hair for him, and you two weren’t even together. He walked out of the bathroom with that stupidly attractive half-grin on his face, and you smiled. You watched him as he pulled on a pair of boxers and some sweats, then turned to you, took off his leg, and joined you in his bed. You cupped his cheek and smiled. “You alright?”
He nodded, covering your hand in his. “Alright.” He looked at you with something you couldn’t quite place, so you just leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t urgent like it was in the supply closet. It wasn’t heated like it was on your second date. It wasn’t going to be interrupted like your first date. It was slow, like you were learning each other. The rising sun split through the gaps in the blinds, and cast a brilliant haze over the room as you climbed on top of him, your lips never leaving his. You pulled back finally, fully straddling him now, and pulled his your top off, your tits spilling out in front of his face. He groaned as you kissed him again, his hands planting themselves on your waist and guiding them against him as you both grinded like horny teenagers.
“Is this okay?” you breathed out against his lips before kissing him again. He nodded against you and pulled at your panties to pull them down. You stopped for a second to get them off. As you started on his sweats and boxers, he froze for a second. Insecurity rushed through him as he realised what was happening. You’re really doing this. He told himself. You haven’t had sex in almost a full calendar year. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? She’s not going to find you attractive when- The air was knocked from his lungs when you took him into your mouth, one hand on what you couldn’t fit. “So big,” you huffed out around him, sending the most perfect vibrations up his dick, causing him to plant a hand in your hair. Sure, he knew he was above average, but he didn’t think it was by much. “Biggest I’ve ever been with.” You admitted as you took him into your mouth again, eager to please. Fuck, every swirl of your tongue against his cock had him groaning beneath you, and you just kept going. His insecurities melted away as your tongue swirled over his tip, filling his mind with profanities as he bit his lip to stop them from coming out.
“Good girl,” he breathed out, pushing your head down on his cock. “S-so good for me. Right there,” he guided you to where he wanted you, and you moaned against his cock. He smirked. “That does it for you?” he asked cockily as you nodded on his dick. Fuck, he made a mistake looking down at you, because he was seconds away from cumming. “Eyes on me, good girl,” he cooed through gritted teeth, and you looked up at him as you continued to suck his dick like a champ. The sight alone almost pushed him over the edge. “Fuck, I’m close.” he warned, trying to hold off the inevitable.
“I want it,” you pleaded, sucking him harder, faster, and he fell apart beneath you, cum shooting down your throat as he groaned, holding your head there, and making eye contact. His big brown eyes staring into your soul as he came down your throat. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You sucked him through the orgasm, swallowing everything and he hurriedly pulled you up on his lap again, and kissed you feverishly. You tasted like him, and he loved it. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” you groaned out as you kissed up an down his neck. He shook his head, chuckling to himself, and slipped a finger between your thighs, feeling your wetness. “Oh fuck-” you moaned against his jaw. “Please.”
You were soaked from sucking him off, and it went straight to his dick. He was somehow, already hard again. “You are such a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he asked in that gruff voice while he pushed a finger in, as you whimpered his name. “You get off on that?” he asked and you nodded dumbly, grinding into his hand. He chuckled as he picked up the pace, adding in another finger, feeling you clench around him.
“Jack, just fuck me,” you whined against his lips, riding his fingers like you didn’t actually want him to stop. Still, he listened and pulled back for just a second, situating you underneath him. “Please,” you begged, hands cupping his face as you looked him in the eye. For a moment, everything stopped for him. The way you were cradling his face in your hands like he was fragile enough to not want to break, the way you were already pleading, the way that this was more than just sex. This was admitting that whatever was going on with the two of you was real, it wasn’t just a hookup, or just a few dates before it fizzles out. It was something you both wanted to pursue. “Jack-!” You groaned as he slowly teased your entrance with his tip, and swallowed your moans when he finally pushed in. He was big, bigger than anyone you’d ever been with, and he was completely splitting you open like it was normal. You clawed at his back, nails digging into the freckled skin there, and he just groaned. You were so full, so stretched, so fucked.
When he started moving, you gripped onto him so hard he thought he was going to cum right then and there. His head dropped to your shoulder as he started to pick up the pace, chasing his own orgasm. “Fuckin’ perfect,” he slurred against your neck as he left kiss after kiss on the skin there. “All mine, right?” He questioned with a particularly mean thrust, one that had you arching against him with your eyes rolled back. He chuckled softly as you babbled against him, words entirely incoherent. God, he forgot what a power trip this was, he was fucking addicted to you now. “You close, baby?” he asked, reaching a hand between your bodies and playing with your clit. You responded immediately with a violent nod of your head and another few breathy moans (which drove him crazy), and he picked up the pace. “Look at me, sweetheart.” he asked, a hand cupping your cheek to make your eyes meet his. He dropped it once you made eye contact, which went straight to his dick.
That telling clench of your pussy around him made him nearly see stars, but he kept his cool as you whimper under him, cumming. “I’m cumming, I-I’m cumming-!” you moaned before swallowing his lips in a kiss. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, driving him to his own. He buried himself as far as he could and came inside you with a shudder, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of being full of him like that. You both just lay there for a moment, his dick softening inside of you, you coming down from the best sex of your life, and you both just smiled.
After about 3 minutes of catching his breath, he pulled out and smiled at you. “Go pee and come back,” he instructed. You groaned in annoyance, trying to push him away, but he just wrapped you up in his arms. “You’re the one dating a doctor, so yes, you need to pee after having someone cum inside you.” You rolled your eyes, but got up (on shaky legs), as he watched, then you disappeared into the bathroom. He turned over and smiled, letting out a breath. He didn’t feel guilty like he thought he would. He didn’t feel bad about himself, hell, he felt good about himself. He felt good about the two of you, like you two could actually do this, and like you both wanted to.
The battlefield is hot, it always is. There’s bodies. Bodies fucking everywhere. God, the smell of blood and shit is overwhelming, he has to cover his nose. Still, he pushes on, through the fog, through the haze, through the bodies. Who needs him the most? Everyone is screaming out for him. Everyone needs him. Fred is on the ground, he’s down. Riley is down too, that poor fucking kid. Rafael was supposed to go home last night but he deferred, shit he should’ve listened and gone home. Where’s Rafael? A noise hits him. When he wakes up again, he’s on the ground. He’s laying on other men’s bodies. Something in him recoils and he has to hold his breath just to stop himself from vomiting. Wait, why does his leg hurt so fucking bad, and why can’t he see anything, or breathe? What the fuck is the debris coming from? This was just supposed to be a med evac, for fuck’s sake they were going to get them home. Someone’s grabbing his shoulder, he shoves them off because it hurts. Don’t move me, he begs, it hurts. But they move him anyway, because he’s in the firing line, and if they don’t he’ll fucking die. He leaves something behind, a trail of blood and something else, something he can’t quite figure out. People are screaming. Men are crying. They load him onto the tank, but someone's still at his shoulder, pushing him, trying to get him to do something, trying to-
His eyes open. You. His bedroom in Pittsburgh. His curtain with the stupid flowers his sister made him buy. His bed with his bedsheet, simple and plain grey. You, with wide eyes and his shirt on, cupping his cheek. But there’s a red mark on your cheek.
And everything stops. No no no no no.
“Jack, come back to me, please,” your begging finally makes it through the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears. You cup his face in your hands and make him look at you, look at your eyes, shit, but your cheek- “You’re safe. You’re at home. You’re alright.” Of course you’re comforting him. You’re just too damn nice sometimes, it makes him feel bad. It makes him feel like he deserves it, which is dangerous.
“Did I-”
“I’m fine,” you shook your head. You’re not fine. He wants to say, but the words don’t come out. They die in his throat when he realises he can’t fucking breathe. “You need to breathe,” You take one of his hands and place it against your heart, letting him feel your heartbeat. He takes a shaky breath in, his eyes still full of tears. Thump, thump, thump. Your heartbeat against his hand does a lot to help him calm down, more than he’d like to admit. He took in another shaky breath, in time with your own breathing. “Tell me five things you can see.” You whispered softly.
He looks around his bedroom. “You,” he lists first, because of course he does. He always sees you first. What else is there to see? He searched the room frantically, eyes landing on those stupid curtains again. He pushed the words out. “M-my curtains, the bed,” he looked around again. “The fan, and my bedsheets.”
“Good,” you smiled softly, bringing your thumb up and down his cheek soothingly. He wants to push it away, tell you he doesn’t deserve it, tell you to run away from him while you have the chance, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not when it’s the only thing tying him to reality. “Now four things you can touch?”
He took in another one of those shaky breaths, then let out a sob. Your hands tightened. “You,” he listed, tears falling down his cheeks rapidly. “T-the bed, the breeze, and your heartbeat.”
“Good, that’s really good baby,” you smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes, feeling himself calm, even only slightly. He took in another shaky breath. “Now can you tell me three things you can hear?”
Fuck, he just wanted to curl up into a ball and sob. He didn’t though, he pushed through that because he wanted to come back to you. “Your voice,” he started. “The street outside, and my own breathing.” He took in another breath, less shaky this time.
You smiled. “Amazing baby, nearly there alright? You’re doing great,” you pressed another kiss to the crown of his head, as his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you tighter against him. You didn’t fight against him, just let him take what he needed. “Now two things you can smell?”
“You and me,” he gritted out, tears falling onto your shirt. “You smell like me.”
“I used your body wash,” You nodded. “Well done sweetheart,” the nicknames pulled at something in his heart. He didn’t deserve this, this kindness. Still, like the selfish bastard he was, he took it. “You’re doing so well. Just one last thing you can taste?”
“My toothpaste,” he let out with a sigh, and buried his head into your neck as he calmed down. You held him. Neither of you knew how long, but you held him, whispering him encouragement and telling him how much you cared. He nodded and whispered back words of gratitude. Once the panic attack was mostly over, he pulled back and looked at your cheek, lightly brushing a hand over it. “Did I…?”
You took his hand off your cheek and held it in your own. “Jack, it was an accident. I’m not blaming you,” you shrugged softly, being more kind than he thought he deserved. He shook his head, closing his eyes, fucking unable to look at what he’d done to you. “Baby,” you cooed. “Don’t do that. Neither of us could’ve predicted this-”
“I could’ve!” he let out in that gruff voice. “I knew something like this was going to happen, you should’ve never stayed over-”
You cut him off with a gentle kiss, he kissed you like you were his saviour on the battlefield. He settled against you, becoming pliant beneath you, then you pulled back. “I’m here because I want to be. I want to be with you. Always. For everything. I want to stand with you at work when a thousand casualties come in. I want to sit with you in bed after a bad nightmare. I want to be with you Jack. I don’t care what happens.”
He shook his head against yours. “You shouldn’t. I’m too old for you, too fucked up-”
“Fuck being old, shut up! You literally outrun all of the male nurses on our floor. And fuck being fucked up. I don’t want you to be perfect, I want you to be Jack Abbot, scars and all,” you smiled. “And anyway, it’s not like I’m perfect.”
“I think you’re perfect.” He admitted softly, pulling you over closer to him.
“I’m not,” you chuckled into his hair. Part of you wanted to tell him exactly why you weren’t perfect, but the selfish part of you wanted to keep that a secret for as long as possible, because you’d surely lose him then. You cleared your throat. “But neither of us are, and that’s what makes us human.”
He nodded, burying his head in your neck. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered against your skin, feeling sinful to even touch you after what he did, but you didn’t push him off. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I’m not,” you ran a hand through his hair. “It was an accident. I’m fine, you’re fine, so everything's fine.” He wished he could’ve believed you, but the shame crept in anyway. How could he hurt you, even subconsciously? How could you let him off the hook? He should’ve made you leave so he could protect you, should’ve broken up with you then and there and kept you away from him. It swallowed him whole, it always did. He felt you fall asleep holding him, and he couldn’t trust himself to sleep again, so he waited. He watched as the day passed slowly, birds and bugs crossing the window as your chest rose and fell softly. He watched you sleep. He watched every little twitch in your movements, every little change in your expression, every little sigh. He saw it all. He watched as the bruise got worse, darkening as the minutes ticked by. It’s not like it was a black eye, but you had a bruised cheek and he felt sick to his stomach. It was his fault.
When you woke up, the bed was empty. You’d been on nights long enough to not need an alarm and have your body just naturally wake up 40 minutes before your shift. Thanks to it being summer, there was still a little bit of light in the sky. You got up, pulling on one of Jack’s t-shirts and grabbing your panties off the floor and putting them back on, then started to search. He wasn’t in the kitchen or living room, alright. He wasn’t in his office or the bathroom, strange. Had he left without you? Asshole, he was supposed to be your ride.
Anyway, you pushed that back and started getting ready. Thankfully, before your shift yesterday, you’d packed a bag in case you’d stayed over, so you freshened up in his bathroom, got dressed, made a cup of coffee, and raided his cupboards for a protein bar, and left his apartment, locking the door behind you. He was probably just messed up after the nightmare. You told yourself. A walk would do you good.
The ER was loud, but not loud enough. He couldn’t get last night out of his head, not the sex, not the nightmare, and certainly not the way you held him. He knew he shouldn’t compare, but his ex-wife would just lose her shit at him after nightmares like that, calling him ‘crazy’ and ‘dangerous’. You didn’t. You didn’t shy away, even after it had gotten you hurt. That scared him more.
“Evening!” Your voice sent him into fight or flight, and he ran. He (practically) ran into a patient's room and ignored the sweet sound of your (far-too-chipper) voice. He put his head down and worked.
“What’s going on brother?” Robby asked him when he caught him at the nurse’s station a little while later. “You’re firing on all cylinders, fuck, I’ve barely seen you sit down, and you came in 4 hours ago, early, I might add. Did something happen?”
Jack just grumbled in response, not interested in having this conversation right now. “I’m fine.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Woah! What happened to you, tiger?” Dana asked, cupping your face in her hands. Jack involuntarily looked, because of course he can’t keep his eyes off you. Shit, it looked worse. It was bruised, a little yellow and a bit purple. His stomach turned. He hated himself, hated his trauma, hated everything, for making him do that. He shook his head, unable to look at it again. Robby noticed.
“I’m fine, just hit it off something.” You shrugged, smiling. She dropped her hands but gave you a look and you brushed it off, promising her you were fine. You knew you could’ve told them, and Jack wouldn’t have had an issue. You just didn’t want to put him in that position, having to explain himself.
“Well, she is ridiculously clumsy so… who’s surprised?” Langdon asked, rushing by. You two had come up through med school together, and were always teasing each other like siblings. You kicked him in the shin as he went by, nearly toppling him. He just laughed as Dana rolled her eyes at the two of you.
Jack focused back in on the man in front of him, wearing a dangerous expression. Robby’s voice was low and scary. “Did you do that to her?” Jack debated just saying yes to get himself in trouble, punish himself more. But your words made their way into his head. Jack, it was an accident. I’m not blaming you. He gulped.
“Yes and no,” he breathed out. “It’s those fuckin’ nightmares again. She just got… hit in the crossfire. I’ve apologised a thousand times already I swear, and she said she was alright-”
Robby looked at him skeptically, but he knew what kind of man Jack was. He loved you, it was clear as day to anyone in a 5 mile radius of the two of you. And knowing you, you definitely wouldn’t take shit from him. “You don’t have to justify it to me, once you’re both alright,” Robby held his hands up in surrender. God, had the ER always been this fucking cold? Jack crossed his arms as the pivotal question came. “But you’re still getting those?”
There it was. It wafted through the air, turning everything sour. Jack rolled his eyes, a scowl settling itself on his lips. “Really, Mike?” He scoffed. “You’re really being a dick at,” he checked his watch. “9pm?” Robby sighed beside him, he knew it was a big deal when Jack used his first name. “Yes, okay, I’m still fucking getting them.”
“I was just asking,” Robby said calmly, and it just made Jack angrier. “I thought things were going well with the therapist-”
“They are, healing isn’t fucking linear, Michael.” He gritted out before turning his attention back to his chart. God, he felt so guilty, but he knew you didn’t think it was his fault. He still thought it was. He hated when this kind of shit happens, he’d break a lamp, or he’d fall out of bed and tweak his back because of the dreams, but at least then, it’s only him being hurt. He held so much shame around the fact that his army days still had such an affect on him. Robby got over it. Erik got over it. Sam got over it. Yet he was just stuck. Maybe if he tried to explain it to Robby he might understand, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.
Robby’s eyebrow raised, but quickly fell back down, like he’d just realised something. “She slept over, huh?” Fuck, Jack knew he’d said too much, even he wasn’t immune to Robby’s teasing. “You two are that serious now, huh?” he questioned, irritating Jack more. “When were you going to tell me?”
“When I wanted to.” He shrugged before dropping his chart on the desk and going after you. That goddamn supply closet, constantly giving space to the wildest conversations he could possibly have.
“You alright-?” you started, a hand cupping his cheek, but he cut you off with a kiss. He was seeking comfort, clearly, and he knew you’d give it to him freely, even though he didn’t deserve it. God, he wished he was a stronger man, but the feel of your hands against his skin was something he wasn’t sure he would be able to give up. “Jack, HR-”
“Fuck HR,” he punctuated his sentence with a kiss, and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. You were both quiet for a moment, just silent breaths and various questions going through your heads. “I don’t know what to say about last night,” he admitted, playing with the fabric of your scrubs. “No one’s ever done that for me.”
You brought a hand up and ran through his hair, and you frowned. “Not even your ex-wife?” you questioned. He let out a chuckle and shook his head. Part of you wanted to ask because he always told you when you asked, but you didn’t want to overstep. “Well, I’m glad I was there for you, I wouldn’t want you going through something like that alone.”
He was stunned. No one had ever shown him this kindness, well, his therapist, but that was because he was paying her and she had a PHD in PTSD. He pulled back and shook his head, his eyes transfixed on you. “Where did you come from?” He chuckled, making you laugh.
You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then pulled back and continued on with your task of grabbing gauze from one of the drawers. “Go back to work, loser,” you teased. “But don’t walk out on me again, alright? I want to walk home together.”
He nodded, his expression falling a bit. “Sorry about that.” He cleared his throat.
You just shrugged and smiled. “It’s alright, I just assumed you needed some space.” He grunted in return, and you just pressed a kiss to his cheek and left him in there wondering how the fuck he was going to survive you. Hell, he was already in love with you, and you were only making it worse by being perfect.
He carded a hand over his face and through his hair, and took a deep breath. “Fuck.” He whispered out. He was a goner.
summary: you and robby get found out, which leads to a HR meeting, and a possible break up...
pairing: michael robinavitch x fem! doctor! reader (probs late twenties/ early thirties)
warnings: general pitt themes, reader is questioned as being used/ using robby and vice versa, the hospital is NOT happy with yall
The boardroom was large and impersonal. Medical PSAs hung from the walls beside random stock image photos of various forest landscapes. You stared at them so you wouldn’t stare at the clock. The group in front of you were imposing too, Gloria at the helm with a lawyer to her left and the hospital HR rep on her right. You wanted to run out of here, the awkwardness of the conversation yet to come making your stomach twist. Your scrubs were tousled and you were sure you looked a mess, but that’s what a double does to a person. God, what you would give to go home now. Shower. Scrub this fucking hellhole off your skin. Curl up in bed. Sleep.
But no. You were here, trying to justify that working with your boyfriend wasn’t a problem. Especially because he was your boss.
Michael walked into the meeting, his hands in his hoodie pockets and his stethoscope around his neck. If things were normal he probably would’ve made a stupid joke about choking himself with it, so he wouldn’t have to bother with the meeting. Things weren’t normal, thanks to Frank. He’d blabbed during his big blow-up, and it spread around the hospital.
Dr. Robby is sleeping with his best resident!? I knew I saw them making out in the supply closet! Oh poor girl, getting used by her boss no less. Poor guy, getting used by a younger girl like that.
It was torture. It spread all the way up to Gloria, and then this meeting was placed in both your diaries. You’d panicked at first, of course. Contemplated breaking up with him and just moving hospital to get away from the rumours and terrible things everyone was saying about you. Michael wasn’t having that though.
You stepped into his apartment, terrified of the encounter ahead of you. He noticed. The tension in your shoulders was more than telling, and the solemn look on your face surely didn’t help your case. The air was warm inside, a stark contrast to the three blocks you’d just walked in the Pittsburgh cold. You watched him watch you, him sipping his tea in the kitchen while you hung up your coat at the door. He looked tired, which was to be expected from his busy schedule. You were sure you looked tired too. Abbot had you pulling a double despite having already pulled one that week. Robby had chastised you over text for not taking care of yourself, and had also texted Abbot about stealing you from him. It had all been fun. Then the meeting got added to your calendar and your day had flipped from moderately bad, to a full on shitshow. The last few hours of your shift were spent figuring out what you wanted to do, and then eventually figuring out what you wanted to say to Robby. Fuck, it’s not like you wanted this, you wanted everything to be normal and happen the way it was before. You wanted your boyfriend. You wanted to work at the Pitt. Those two things seemed mutually exclusive in your mind, so you had to give up one. Or both. You hadn’t decided yet.
“No.” He said it before you could even argue, even give him your carefully rehearsed reasons for the breakup being the best course of action. He was simple about it, just shrugged and crossed his arms (an action that was slightly unfair considering he was wearing one of those t-shirts that was a little too small around the arms), like he was waiting for you to argue with him.
“Mike,” you breathed out, dropping your bag on his dining table. “Everyone thinks we make no sense. We’re going to have to justify our relationship to our superiors and then all the rumours and the gossiping start! Then we won’t even be allowed on cases together, and one of us will be shifted onto nights. We both know it’s not going to be you, so I’ll be miserable and we’ll never see each other. Let’s just break it off now and save ourselves that pain-!” Yes, you had catastrophised all of this in your head over the last 4 hours of your shift, so what?
He shook his head, crossing the room in a few strides and wrapping his hands around your waist. “We’re not going to break up,” he said definitively. “Unless you’re unhappy or there’s something I’ve done, we’re not breaking up over this. I won’t do it,” he shrugged again. His grip tightened on you like he was scared you’d run away if he didn’t hold on to you. Maybe you would. He cleared his throat. “That hospital takes everything out of all of us, out of me. I’m not interested in letting it take away the best part of my life just because we didn’t immediately report our relationship to Gloria. I don’t care what it’ll cost me.”
You sighed, dropping your head onto his chest. He was sweet, but it wasn’t him who was going to be charged, it would be you. You were only a very new senior resident. Sure, you’d been working there a long time, but Robby was an attending, and by no means would the hospital ever let go of him because they need attending doctors. They can pick up residents from anywhere, hell, Langdon and you started at the same time, and despite your clear ability to excel in literally everything, you two were still at the same level. It didn’t matter about talent or intelligence, or even really ability. Time mattered. You couldn’t speed that up. “It’s not going to be you that’s cost Mike,” you pulled back, your hands on his chest. “I’m going to be the one they punish.”
“We don’t know that,” he shook his head, drawing soothing circles on your hip. “They could say that I abused my power and boot me instead-”
“Don’t say that!” you lightly slapped him on the chest, making a cheeky laugh fall from his lips. God, you loved to see him like this. Relaxed. Comfy. Yours. Still, you gulped that back and focused on the important part, the breakup. “We don’t make sense to them. We should just cut our losses and leave while we still like each other-” you were cut off by his lips on yours, a bruising hold on your waist. You knew what he was doing, he was showing you. If it were any other situation, you probably would’ve crumbled. This one? You couldn’t afford to. You had made your choice. Still, you were kissing him though… that was besides the point. “Stop thinking about what they want,” he murmured, low and gruff beneath your lips. He must’ve had that stupid mind power that meant he could know what you were thinking, it drove you mad. It was so hard to not listen to him, especially with the combination of his lips and hands on you, and him saying exactly what you needed to hear. “I want you,” his lips brushed over your cheek and moved down to your jaw, his beard scratching deliciously over your skin. You blanked. You just held onto him and blanked. “I need you,” he huffed out, all breathy and irritatingly sexy. “I love you.”
Everything stopped. Your brain stopped working. Your grip on his shoulders got heavier. You froze.
He froze too.
“You can’t say that,” you whispered out, tears welling up despite the way you wished they wouldn’t. “Not when this is going on.” He sighed, pressing one, more gentle, kiss to your neck before standing to his full height and looking at you. Those big brown eyes and that disappointed face made you want to shrink into yourself, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when he was holding you the way he was.
“It’s true,” he shrugged. “And like I said, if you don’t feel the same, that’s a valid reason to break up with me. If I've made you uncomfortable, that’s a good reason to break up with me. If you’ve met someone else, that’s a reason to break up with me. If you’re breaking up with me for any reason other than the hospital is pissed at us, then that’s fine. Just don’t fucking lie to me.” He spoke with such calmness in his voice, such care. It just made it worse.
You gritted your teeth as the tears started to fall. “I don’t want to lose my job, Mike,” you said, helpless. You couldn’t give up everything you’d worked for, just because you and him were stupid and didn’t report your relationship. “I’m trying to protect myself.”
God, he just wanted to hug you and promise he could make it all better, but he couldn’t. He knew he was being selfish by asking you to stay, but he had never really been a good man. He loved you too much to let you go. “Let me protect you,” he whispered, pulling your face into his chest as you sobbed. “Let me take care of you.”
And you didn’t put up a fight. You let him hold you until the tears stopped, then he made you dinner, and you both planned out what you were going to say at the meeting.
It just had to work.
Gloria’s eyes bore into your soul, and you gulped. You played with the sleeve of your scrubs as they stared at you like you were a bug.
“So, I think we all know why we’re here today,” she began, that practiced ‘nice-voice’ falling from her lips like honey. Beside you, Robby took a seat. His hand lingered over your thigh before he did the right thing and placed it on the table in front of the two of you. You breathed out. “There have been reports that you two have been engaging in a personal relationship at work without going through HR. Now, you both recognise that this is a problem?” She asked, laying out all the facts like you were both stupid. Robby fought an eye roll, while you just nodded beside him, anxiety seeping out of every pore. “Great! Now, if you two wouldn’t mind going through the full timeline of your relationship?”
You gulped and looked at him. He offered a nod, and you began talking. “Well… it started about 4 months ago. We ended up at the same movie on one of our days off, and we got to talking. We got coffees after, and our relationship grew from there, but we never ever let it bleed into our work-” You started slowly, explaining it simply, but she cut you off. Your stomach twisted.
“Then how did the entire emergency department catch wind of it?” she questioned, cutting in sharp as a knife. She sat there, staring at you. This was about you. If either of you were going to break, it would be you. You shrunk under her gaze, subconsciously leaning towards Robby the tiniest bit. The HR manager started writing. You gulped.
“I think we all know how that happened,” Robby sighed, already sick of this shit. “The hospital is a gossip mill, everyone knows that. I told someone I was seeing Y/n, and someone probably overheard and spread it. That’s how every rumour starts around here.” He shrugged, crossing his arms. He wasn’t having them rip the two of you apart, it wasn’t fair. Having a romantic relationship in the workplace isn’t a big deal, and never had been before Gloria thought it would be a way to pawn you off to another hospital.
It’s not that Gloria didn’t think you were good enough for the Pitt, she knew you were too good. You showed the disparity between other residents, leading to questions from the Board on whether or not attendings and senior residents were doing enough to teach, and get scores up. She hated how much you were championed in the Pitt, everyone knew you, everyone liked you, everyone thought you were brilliant.
“And the rumour about you two having… relations,” she cleared her throat. “-In the on-call room? Is that a lie?”
Robby saw red. Who the fuck would lie about something like that? Something that could get you both fired. He let out an unimpressed huff and shook his head. “Complete fiction.” He said definitively, before sending a quick glance your way. Your jaw dropped in true and utter shock. You’d made a promise to each other that nothing would happen at work, that’s how it had to be. You both had to be strictly professional, or someone would die on your watch, and neither of you were interested in taking chances with that.
“Dr. Y/l/n?” Gloria turned to you.
You stared at her for a moment. “It’s a lie, obviously. We keep everything strictly professional at work, if we don’t, someone could die.” You punctuated each word, frustration and anger rising in your tone, though you kept it professional and calm. Only Robby noticed the tiny inflections in your voice, the ones he knew better than he probably should’ve. Sometimes he kind of liked to piss you off a little, just to see you get angry. It kind of turned him on. Gloria nodded her head, referring back to her notes in front of her.
“Kissing in the parking lot?” Her head shot back up, eye expectant and wide, that same self-satisfied smile on her lips.
“Never,” he shook his head. “Like she said, we’re professionals.”
The questions continued for what felt like hours, but you both got through it, and were allowed leave. You both had to sign all the regular paperwork and got given a warning. You let out a breath as you left the boardroom, Robby following behind you.
“You did good.” he whispered as he walked by, a hand on your shoulder for a split second. He was right, you both did good to get out of this shitshow still together, and still working here.
You caught up with him. “Sorry I tried to break up with you.” You admitted, keeping your voice low.
He shrugged. “You got scared, it’s alright,” he smiled, pulling up his sleeves and crossing his arms. You nodded, a tiny show of gratitude. He leaned in closer. “I still love you.”
The butterflies in your stomach swelled and you shook your head before walking off, him trailing you.
summary: a fight leads to a confession, and jack abbot finally admits something he wants.
pairing: jack abbot x fem! doctor! wife! reader
warnings: lowkey just fluff and jack being really traumatised
banners from my good friend @no-144444 !
Jack usually operated under the assumption that you were asleep when he got home on a Saturday morning. Last night had been a fucking mess, a fight with you (if you could call it that) and then straight into work with a cop and a kid dead in the first 3 hours. The rest of the shift evened out, just regular flu victims, or stupid scrapes and cuts. It weighed on him though, made his entire body ache, made his head hurt like his skull was squeezing his brain too hard. He debated getting it checked out at neuro, but ultimately decided a bit of time in bed with you would probably fix it. That was if you let him into bed. Last night had been awful, he’d been called in at the last minute, a terrible crash would be flying in and Shen was already down a nurse and two doctors. He couldn't let him go at it alone, even if he desperately wanted to finally get his long dreamt-of Friday night date.
You added the finishing touches to your makeup as you tried to hide your smile. God, how long had it been since you and Jack had gone out, just you two? 3 months probably, and even then it was your sister’s wedding. You were excited, excited to just have one night where he wasn’t Dr. Abbot and you weren’t Dr. Y/l/n.
He turned the corner into your bedroom, and his crispy white shirt was nowhere to be seen, replaced entirely by the black scrubs he frequented. Your face fell, and a hand cupped your chin as he rested his forehead against yours. “I know,” he breathed out before you could even protest. “I’m sorry.” And that was it, he wasn’t going to say no and stay with you. He was going to go to work like he always did. You knew he was a workaholic, anyone with eyes did, but you hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected this to be so far down on his list of priorities, for you to be so far down.
You nodded solemnly and stepped back, turning back to your vanity and taking the carefully curated bracelet stack off your wrist. He wanted to reach out, promise you he would make it up to you, but you both knew he couldn’t. This happened too regularly to be made up for. “Wow,” there was venom on your tongue, he could hear it. He just hoped he wouldn’t make it worse. You swallowed it down, leveling out your voice. “Alright Jack. Alright.” It wasn’t alright, he knew it, but Shen needed him. Hurt people needed him.
“Shen needs me,” he started, taking another step towards you. You turned to the closet next, stepping out of your dress. He bit his lip, staring as he finally saw the lingerie you’d been hiding from him for this night specifically. Fuck, you were gorgeous. You pulled a hoodie over yourself, discarding your bra in the laundry hamper with the matching lace thong. You opened his drawer and pulled on a pair of his boxers. He thought you looked even more beautiful. “I’m sorry-”
“You’re going to be late,” you stated softly, sitting at your vanity and reaching for your makeup remover. “You’d better go.” He gritted his teeth. You were doing that thing, that thing where you just disconnected from him entirely, and he couldn’t even blame you. You had been so excited, hell, you’d ironed his shirt. You two were only going to dinner and a movie, but you were excited to have one night where you had all his attention, and he wished he could give you that.
“Don’t do that,” he pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as you kept rubbing your makeup off. “Don’t shut me out.” Selfishly, he was desperate for you to just let him go without a fight, let him leave without guilt, but he didn’t deserve that. He deserved to be shouted at, but you’d never do that. You were too sweet, too kind for something like that. Sometimes he wondered what he did in a past life to deserve someone so fucking understanding, especially in those moments when he couldn’t find it in himself to find that same patience for you.
You sighed, tears welling up. You stood and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Be safe,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I love you.” You were barely even whispering, but he heard it still, felt it still. His heart cracked a little, guilt gnawing at his insides as he pressed a kiss to your cheek and nodded. He didn’t deserve to have you, to love you, or have you care for him the way you did.
He left. You stayed. That was just the way it was.
He took one of the prepped meals you made out of the fridge and placed it in the microwave before stepping into the bathroom and stripping down. He left his scrubs in a pile in the corner, he could deal with it later. The water was scalding, just how he liked it. After going months at a time without a shower during his time in the military, there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t thank Benjamin Waddy Maughan for creating hot water heaters. Yes, he’d looked up who’d created them.
His prosthetic was quickly discarded beside the shower. The phantom pain worsened as the weather changed outside. Summer was winding down and soon the cold months would come, it always made it worse. He stepped into the shower. He scrubbed himself down quickly, sitting on the handily built-in bench you’d insisted on. You were always looking out for him, always demanding he take care of himself. He pushed past those thoughts and continued scrubbing, trying to get the scent of the hospital off of himself, trying to get the stench of his guilt off his skin. He was out in the kitchen when the microwave beeped. He ate quickly, reading over the news on his phone as he stood in the kitchen, a towel hanging on his hips. He didn’t bother with the social media apps everyone else liked to busy themselves with, but he had an instagram, mostly to keep up with what you were posting. He checked it as he left his plate in the sink, a story from yesterday. A picture of you and your friend at a market from the day before. God, you looked stunning. He had no idea what you saw in him sometimes.
You walked into the house, looking more than exhausted. You didn’t even acknowledge him, not even noticing his figure, as you walked straight to the couch, and flopped down on it. He stared. Your eyes closed and you curled up into yourself as he’d seen you do a thousand times before, and he stepped closer. His hand ran over your cheek. “You alright?” he asked, voice hoarse and gruff. It’d been a tough shift, you could tell.
“Mhm,” you nodded, leaning into his touch. “Shitshow of a night. Jayden called me. Maggie was super sick, I had to rush her over to the emergency room,” You sighed. His brow creased, a silent question. I didn’t see you? You nodded. “She lives on the other side of town.” he nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he cradled your head like it was the most fragile thing he could ever hold. It was to him. “You’re a good friend.”
You nodded. “It was crazy,” you groaned. “Still didn’t get rid of my baby fever though.” You chuckled, reaching a hand up and running it through his wet curls. He stilled. Baby fever. He gulped down the panic rising in his chest and cleared his throat.
“You have baby fever?” he questioned, the tips of his ears going a pretty shade of crimson. You let out a soft chuckle and nodded, sitting up. He sat beside you, pulling you into his lap, straddling him. A thousand thoughts at once ran through his mind. He’d dreamed of wild mornings and spilled drinks, he’d dreamed of Saturday afternoon practice and sleepless nights with his very own bundle of light in his arms, but it never happened. It wasn’t in the cards for a man as broken as him, someone as… unworthy as he. Men like him didn’t have families. He’d been told when he was younger, a more fresh-faced Jack Abbot, less able to hold his liquor. He’d told some of his squad that he silently wished for a day where he’d have a family of his own, raise them better than he’d been raised. They’d laughed at him. No one would have a kid with you, let go of that. And army men don’t cry, so he didn’t. His soul wept for him, quietly setting the dream down and sweeping it under the rug, hoping that maybe one day he’d get that chance.
You cupped his jaw, watching him with careful eyes. “Jack? Are you alright?” You asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. He nodded softly and pressed his lips to yours gingerly. You kissed him back. He relaxed into it, his hands wrapped around your waist, yours in his hair, uncaring of how wet it was.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he admitted, pulling back from your lips. “I should’ve stayed.” He searched your face, landing on your eyes. He loved your eyes. He loved how he could make you nervous with just eye contact, something so simple. You nodded.
“Thank you for apologising, but the night would’ve been ruined anyway. I was busy playing mom to Maggie.” You shrugged, a finger drawing patterns between the freckles that adorned his chest. You’d admitted before that it was one of your favourite things about him. You just loved them. He couldn’t understand why, but who was he to yuck your yum?
There it was again. The idea that you two could have a kid. You with a little baby in your arms, his baby in your arms. A little human that was made from the two of you. His eyes welled up, but he kept his voice steady. You didn’t notice the tears, too busy drawing on his skin. “You want to have a kid?” he asked, just above a whisper. You smiled.
“You’re not helping my baby fever, y’know,” you finally looked at him again, and your face fell. “Jack, what’s wrong?” A hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into it, a stray tear falling down his cheek. You took his other hand in yours, squeezing.
He shook his head, biting his cheek to stop himself from falling apart. “I always wanted a family,” he admitted, pushing through it. Pushing through the fear of rejection, pushing through the voice in his head that told him to shut up. He’d been working with his therapist and you on verbalising what he wanted. He was hyper-independant, and he knew it strained you two a little, so this was a chance to actually let you know what he wanted. “I want that with you.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “Yeah?” you questioned, a surprised smile pulling the corners of your lips up. He nodded silently, anxiety and fear holding all his muscles taught. “I want that too,” you whispered before swallowing his lips with a kiss.
He had it. He had his wife. He had his job. Now, he’d finally get the chance to get what he wanted, a family. A family with you.
summary: you moved to UMPC ED, and obviously you don't need jack, and he totally doesn't need you.
pairing: jack abbot x fem! robinavitch! doctor! reader (probs late twenties/ early thrities)
warnings: general pitt themes, nothing really bad it's mostly just u and jack longing for each other but not admitting it lmao
a/n: thanks for requesting! banners from my good friend @no-144444 !
part one -> gone
You could live without Jack Abbot. That’s what you told yourself, anyway.
You walked through the halls of the UPMC emergency department, blood soaking your scrubs despite the surgery gown that clung to your body, you just wanted him to be there. You wanted him to send you that tiny nod, the one that made you breathe.
“Alright?” Dr. Rory Cassidy, your new attending doctor, asked as you pulled off your gown and gloves. He was sweet. He had the same sunken eyes your brother did, the same fear and tension in his body, but he wasn’t Robby. He was someone else. Someone new. He kept the ED running with a balance. Equal parts smoothness and cleanliness. He kept the morale up and the wages high. They had the best retention rate of any hospital in Pittsburgh, and you understood why. The bonuses and insurance plans were good, great, even. The building was modern and clean. The people were kind. Even the med students were respectful and somehow egoless. The hospital was less understaffed than your previous, so you had been put straight onto the day shift. The wait time was 5 hours at the most.
So why did you miss the chaos of the Pitt? Yes, maybe it was partly the people, and partly the fact that your new set schedule meant pulling doubles was harder to swing, so you were left with those hours of silence, hours in the dark where you thought everything over and wondered if you’d done the right thing. Wondered if what you gave up was worth it.
The crisp air of Pittsburgh assaulted you as you walked out of the packed waiting room, receiving many nasty looks. Look, they couldn’t blame you for needing to go home.
Your walk back was silent, thanks to your dead headphones, so you tried to listen to the sounds of the city to keep those internal battles at bay. Cars racing by. Music playing from a bar. People’s laughter bouncing off the streets. Voices coming out of windows. You imagined what everyone around you was doing. Maybe in those lit-up windows there was a couple just moving in, in another there could be a divorce being finalised. Maybe there was a little kid watching the masterpiece that is Tangled in one of those rooms. Maybe there was another kid and her older brother playing chess and laughing- no. You shook that particular thought away.
You’d moved apartments. The new one was nice. In-unit washer and dryer, 2 bedrooms, big kitchen, and a nice view. It was still a little empty considering you’d just moved in, but you liked it. You went through the notions, grabbing the meal-prepped shit you’d made, turning on the airfryer and pouring it in, hoping it comes out decently edible. Put the rice into a bowl and heat it in the microwave. Grab a beer from the fridge. Whatever show was on became what you were watching, but still, your brain looped back to a particular doctor in the Pitt. Greying curls, gruff voice, resting bitch face that somehow made his smile look even more beautiful. You missed him. You wished he was here, listening to you speak about your day and how you feel like you can’t connect with your new co-workers because you’re hung-up on your old workplace. It was like some fucked up break-up that you couldn’t get over.
You flicked through some channels. Tangled was playing on the youth channel.
You sat and watched. You wished things were different.
He could live without Y/n Robinavitch. That’s what he told himself anyway.
The Pitt was silent. Robby was silent. Everyone had picked a side, and it was you. Everyone was keeping Robby at arm’s length, and to be honest, he felt bad for the guy. But he was still so angry. How could he say that to you? How could he say all of those horrible things and not apologise immediately? How could he dim your light like that? Jack wished it had all gone another way, he could’ve gotten to you quicker and convinced you that staying was worth it. He could’ve worked harder at it, and shown you how much brighter you made the Pitt. He didn’t, and he couldn’t. So he just trudged on with his night shift, probably grumpier than before. That crease in his brow didn’t disappear after the sun came up like it used to when he knew he’d be seeing your face walk in those ED doors, because you didn’t walk in those doors anymore. You didn’t work at the Pitt anymore, you weren’t part of his life anymore, and that hurt.
“Dr. Abbot?” Ellis was at his side in an instant. Night shift was close-knit, they weren’t scared of Abbot like all the day shifters were, mostly because they’d seen him trip over his own feet because of you. “Alright?” she asked as they walked in. 3 hours of sleep, a workout, and black coffee were his plans for his day-off, so he wasn’t exactly buzzing to get out of work. Everyone knew he had a resting bitch face, but it got worse when he was like this.
He sent her a nod, dropping his bag off his shoulder, still dressed in his black scrubs. He wasn’t bothered to change, he’d shower when he got home. “Alright,” he nodded, packing his things into his bag. She stared for a second. He sighed. “I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” he asked.
“Missing Y/n, but so is everyone,” she shrugged. Jack’s back straightened and he sighed again. “You’re off tomorrow, right?” She asked, her tone turning into something Jack knew too well. She was planning something. He nodded. “Y/n’s working at the UMPC emergency department. You should go over tomorrow and try to talk to her. She’s been ignoring everyone’s messages.” Ellis admitted.
Jack shook his head, groaning. “She’s well within her rights to ignore us, I don’t know if you noticed but not one of us tried to stand up to Robby for her-”
“You did,” Ellis stated simply. “You told him to walk away. He just didn’t listen-”
“And he still said all that shit to her, so what difference does it make?” He gritted out, his voice low and irritated. They stared at each other for a moment, he noticed the crowd at the nurse’s station all watching the exchange. He made eye contact with Dana, she nodded at him. Do this. She mouthed. For you, not for us.
It nearly knocked him on his ass. He’d been through a lot. He’d been through war, he’d been through fighting, he’d saved a man's life with nothing more than a pen and a plastic bag. He’d been a man in control for so many years. He’d spent his free time trying to convince himself that love wasn’t going to happen for him, not for a second time. He would just put his head down and enjoy the rest of his life with his friends. Of course it was you who could knock him off his carefully created plan. Of course it was you who made him feel more alive than any trauma call could. Of course it was you who he’d fallen for, body, mind, and soul. Those small smiles when you got through a particularly tough trauma call. Those smirks of pride when your call was picked over someone else's. Those grounding touches you gave him as you both worked on a patient, the ones that nearly brought him out of it, but also made him feel so wanted. You, in general. Your kindness, your happiness, your passion. It was infectious, you were infectious. He blinked that back and grunted (not unlike a caveman) and walked out of there. Santos and Ellis followed. “Are you going to do it?” Santos demanded. “Seriously Jack, we’re worried about her-”
“So do it yourself,” he said simply before walking out of the ED.
He wasn’t going to see you at work. He wasn’t going to impose on your new workplace. He was going to go to your apartment.
summary: 4 months after the mass casualty and the incident that ended with your estrangement to your brother dr. robinavitch, you're finally on your last day. a surprise visit from gloria means everyone finds out and a certain doctor has to pull you outside for a chat.
pairing: michael robinavitch x sister! fem! doctor! reader (probs late twenties/ early thirties), little bit of jack abbot x reader at the end... ;)
warnings: general pitt themes, mentions of suicide, families arguing, robby gets real mean, reader gets lowkey depressed... (everyone lives dw)
a/n: yall lmk if you want a part two that is full abbot x reader... ;) banners from my good friend @no-144444 !
The Pitt was quiet. Not in the sense that patients weren’t coming at you every five seconds. No. The people were quiet, your people. Dana had that pitying look as you walked in, a bag slung over your shoulder with Dr. Jack Abbot to your left, ready for your first night shift. Yes, you’d changed. No, you didn’t care what he had to say about it. Abbot was explaining the mechanism of some random procedure that he’d done the other day, one you’d shown interest in. You were listening, just not as hard as you possibly should’ve been. You were on edge. You didn’t want to see him, not one bit. But he was always around, always putting out a fire, always fixing something for someone else. Knowing your luck, he was probably pulling a double.
“He’s getting some air,” Dana rolled her eyes, but that sense of concern never left her voice. She didn’t agree with what he’d done to you, but she still cared about him. “Said he didn’t want any visitors.” She sighed and shrugged. Jack let out a breath, shaking his head. You knew they were conflicted, fuck, everyone was. It was a war with sides, and it seemed not everyone had chosen yet. You let out a breath. You’re making this easier for everyone, you reminded yourself. One more shift. Jack gave you that pitying look, the one you'd seen from him a thousand times. He was the only one you’d told. He’d tried to convince you that staying would be worth it, but nothing could. You’d made your mind up and handed in your notice two weeks ago. You had an offer from another hospital, 40 minutes away from the PMTC, and you’d taken it. Not because you particularly wanted to, but more because you couldn’t take the pitying glances, awkward tension, and general shittiness of one attending doctor. It’s not like he would notice you were leaving, right? He probably would thank you for just doing the right thing and getting out of his hair.
His shift had been torture. Everyone had something to say about you. You were doing well. You had saved x number of people’s lives that day. You had changed to nights and they missed you. He was fucked up for what he said. It made his head hurt and that little hole in his chest where you used to reside, bleed. Fuck, he missed you. His little sister, his fucking everything. He’d sworn to your parents, sworn he’d take care of you. And he fucked it up. The Pitt was torture without your bright smile around the place. Everyone either hated him, or kept him at arm’s length, and he couldn’t blame them. He’d lost it at you, in front of everyone. He wasn’t so surprised that you’d changed to nights, going over his head and straight to Gloria. She’d been happy to make the switch and hand Robby over some more students that he had to take care of. The night shift had gotten the better end of the deal, the best resident the entire building had seen in years. High patient satisfaction rates, high patient turnover rates, and popular with co-workers. You were the best. He’d let you slip through his fingers, and he had no one to blame but himself. Well, kind of Frank too.
The roof was quiet. It always was. The air was unnecessarily crisp. He would go home, but then he’d be faced with every memory of you in his kitchen, in his bedroom, in his living room. That stupid photobooth photo strip on the fridge. Those fucking mugs you’d made together in the damn pottery class. He knew he’d have to just grow up and throw the stuff out at some point, but he didn’t want to lose those memories of you just yet. The way your nose scrunched when you laughed at his terrible art skills. The way you hugged him in the photobooth. The way you’d cheer and dance when you’d win in cards in his living room.
“Somethings going on with her,” Collins announced as she walked up beside him, staying on the safe side of the rail. “Jack knows what it is but won’t tell-”
“Shouldn’t you have left already?” he scoffed, his gruff voice lower than normal. She chuckled. He always had that tell. The defensiveness. The low voice. The silence.
“Shouldn’t you?” she mused. He knew him. He’d dated him. He’d seen all the parts of him she was sure he’d tried to hide from you so he could play the big brother character to the best of his abilities, but you had a way of eroding people's fears of rejection and pulling their trauma out of them. She knew he could fly off the handle and get a little mad, but never thought him capable of what he’d said and done. “She’s already here and she’s getting to work. You could catch a glimpse if you go by the trauma rooms.” She shrugged.
He shrugged, coming back over the barrier. “I don’t want to see her.” Lie. He wanted to see you more than anything. He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to apologise and try to make things better. He wanted to make you understand what was going through his head. He wouldn’t though, not after what he’d said.
She scoffed. “Sure, you don’t want to see her,” sarcasm dripped from her words like honey. “You’re such a shit liar.”
He shook his head, pressing the button for the bottom floor. He hated when people could see through his bullshit. He’d lived a life of covering up his own feelings, and you were really the only person he felt comfortable being vulnerable with. You had shared history, shared fucking trauma from gorwing up in that godforsaken house together. Every time he saw you, he saw that little girl with pigtails and a toothy smile and he wanted to throw up.
The Pitt was alive, even at night. Shen sipped his coffee obnoxiously, Abbot was constantly running back and forth between patients, Ellis was already mad from being the sacrificial lamb for whatever drunk patients had already sauntered in and vomited on her shoes, you were already focused on patients, helping out where you could and taking a breath whenever you had time. Robby lingered around the nurse’s station, trying to look busy when he was really just watching you read over charts. Dana rolled her eyes.
“Dr. Robinavitch,” Gloria’s voice rang out over your shoulder and you jumped. She chuckled and clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us here at PMTC, we wish we could keep you but you’re moving onwards to greener pastures, I don’t blame you,” she nudged you in the ribs. “Hand in your pass and locker combination to your attending at the end of your shift, yeah?” And she disappeared, leaving you with the biggest mess of all time.
For just a second, you thought no one had heard. You thought maybe you could get away without the sad goodbyes and angry questions of why. Then everything erupted. Dana, Santos, Whitaker, Mohan, and Collins ran over, demanding a reason. You didn’t have a good one to give, other than the man standing 3 feet away from you with his head in his hands like your father used to do. More people swarmed around you, Shen and Ellis confused but intrigued as to why they were losing their newest and best resident. Panic rose in your chest and you really didn’t know what to say to their thousands of rational questions. Maybe you were being too rash. Maybe you were taking this all too seriously. Maybe this was all your own fault-
A hand pulled you out of their circle and into the ambulance bay, the sun long since set. You barely caught a glimpse of your saviour until you realised who it was.
You were face to face with Michael Robinavitch once again. Your stomach turned. You wanted to run away somehow, maybe take your chances with the hoard of angry co-workers inside, but something glued your feet to the floor and made your legs feel like lead. You just stared. He just stared.
You’d been in a very similar position 4 months ago.
The air smelt like blood and it turned your stomach. Mass casualties were always the most difficult to get through, but this had been hell on earth served to the Pitt on a silver platter. Finally you’d stepped outside, out of your fucking scrubs, out of your blood-soaked shoes, out of that hell-hole. Maybe you’d walk back to Robby’s place and start on some dinner for the two of you. Maybe you’d actually go back to your own apartment and get some laundry done. Maybe you’d go for a beer with the team.
“We’re grabbing a beer if you want one?” Mateo offered, handing over a beer. You followed, your eyes on Robby. He had the soft, faraway look that often made you nervous, but right now you knew what it was about. The deaths. The expectations. The hurt and pain in that emergency department.
You sat next to him and tried to push up to his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Keyword, tried. He brushed you off like you were on fire. You cleared your throat, trying to dispel the clear confusion on Abbot and McKay’s face. You leaned away, giving him some room.
“Just fuck off,” he practically spat. Your heart dropped into your stomach and everything stopped. He looked around at the confused faces and let out one of those twisted chuckles, the ones that made bile rise in your throat. He always did this before a fight, this disappearing act with his emotions, until they became unbearable and he just had to shout them at you. Just like your mom. “Waste of fucking space human being.”
Protests fell from almost everyone’s lips as he shook his head, that twisted laughter falling from his lips as you just watched him, hyperaware of every little movement and sound he made. He wasn’t just being mean, he was being awful. He wanted to hurt you for no good reason, and you’d be damned if you let that happen. You stood and left your beer on the bench, grabbing your bag and walking back over to the ambulance entrance and towards the staff car park.
His laugh followed you, still wrong, still missing any of the warmth that reminded you of home. “Yeah exactly, walk away!” he shouted, and you stopped in your tracks. You whipped around, a finger pointed at him. “Oh, here she is!” he announced, that self-righteous smirk on his lips.
“If you just wanted a rise out of me, you’ve got it. Stop making a scene at work,” you demanded, your voice curt and sharp. You couldn’t do this right now, not without falling to pieces. He rolled his eyes. “Seriously Mike, don’t do this right now.”
He nodded, that condescending tone dripping from his words as he spoke, like he always knew better. “You’re a fucking bad sister and I should’ve never trusted you. You’re a waste of space with a loud mouth and a killer poker face. Congratulations, you saw me fall apart, you made me trust you with my emotions, and now it doesn’t matter because you’re just another cog in the fucking gossip mill. I thought you were better than that. I thought you were worth more than that. I guess I was wrong,” he shrugged, burying his hands in his pockets. “I’m done. I want you to get the fuck out of my life.” Abbot tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he brushed it off. Robby had that sick smile on his lips. You felt like you were going to be sick. You felt 9 years old again after he’d missed his baseball game to pick you up from school because you were sick.
You stared at him, eyes wide with tears dripping silently down your cheeks. “Mike, w-what-?” you could barely get a word out before he continued, and you looked at the faces of your friends. Fearful, shocked, disgusted. You didn’t know if it was for you or Mike.
“You’re such a fucking liar, and of course, I believed it. I trusted you and you broke that trust, so I am so fucking disinterested in trying to pretend that you’re anything other than a deeply boring, deeply annoying person, with a propensity to seek validation from your superiors and peers too much. No one at the Pitt even liked you before they found out you were my sister, you know that right? You wouldn’t have even got the job if it weren’t for me,” he scoffed, then something dawned on him, and you felt that bile rise in your throat again. “This is what it’s about? Isn’t it? You just used me to get in on things and you’re so fucking scared of losing your new ‘friends’ that you’ll break all of our trust? Just like that? Fuck, have you no backbone?” He was just being cruel now, taking your biggest insecurity and throwing it in your face in front of everyone. Your fear of rejection. Your fear of being disliked and put into a box before you could explain yourself. “No wonder Miriam hates you.”
You let out an unintentional sob at that. The hardest thing you’d ever been through, the worst night of your life. You called the cops on your sister and ran for 20 minutes to get to her when you thought she was suicidal. You’d done everything. You’d saved her life. You’d gotten there just in time, you’d kept her alive for the paramedics. She hated that her attempt had been foiled. She hated you for it.
But she had kids now. She had a job she loved. She had a wife she loved. Yeah, maybe you were watching from the outside, but at least you were watching. At least she was alive.
And of course he had to throw it in your face. Of course he had to hurt you with the one thing he knew would crumble you.
You did. You crumbled. You sobbed into your hand as you walked away from the man that was supposed to love and care for you like he’d promised, and he looked at you like you were shit on his shoe, or less than that.
You blinked back those memories and stared at him. He’d found out a day later that it had been a senior nurse who’d seen him have his breakdown in peds with Whitaker, that she’d spread it and Langdon had overheard and used it against him. You hadn’t even known. You hadn’t even known. It cut into him every time he remembered what he’d said, what he’d used against you, how he’d hurt you. It twisted his gut in a way he was unused to. He hated himself for hurting you in the way he did. He saw how you became more reserved, how you fell silent even when he wasn’t there, how that spark in your eyes that he’d fallen for, had somehow dissipated and been replaced by something hollower. Something less.
“You’re leaving?” he asked softly, already blinking back tears. His voice was so different that it had been that night. “Y/n, you’re leaving?” he asked again, taking a tentative step towards you. You took one back, nodding your head. His heart broke again, he’d lost track of how many times.
You let out a breath. “I’m just making trouble here, I just… I wanted to get out of everyone’s hair. You were right.” You admitted, your hands falling to play with the edge of your scrubs. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You didn’t want to. You weren’t interested in seeing the fucking pride on his face when he realised he had finally driven you out.
If you’d looked up you would’ve seen a broken man. You would’ve seen the tears in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. You would’ve seen the regret. “Y/n,” he breathed out, soft and light, almost like a prayer. “I am so sorry for what I said,” he let out a breath. “And what I did, and how I did it, and everything else. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I believed Frank. I’m sorry I came after you in front of everyone. I’m sorry I said I was done, I’m not.I’m your brother and I shouldn’t have treated you like that and I know this isn’t good enough but I want you to hear it so you don’t think I hate you or something. I don’t. I miss you. I love yo-”
“Shut up,” you sighed. “Just shut up. You’ve said your piece Dr. Robinavitch, just let me leave with part of my dignity intact,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. Your pain had turned into something else entirely in a matter of seconds. Bitterness. He didn’t get to stand there and whine about how much he misses you when he had psychologically ripped you apart in front of everyone 4 months ago, over something a literal drug addict told him. You swallowed down the venom you were ready to spit up and took a deep, calming breath. “Have a good life, Dr. Robinavitch, I hope it was all worth it.”
And you walked back inside, ignoring the gaggle of people and their questions, ignoring the way patients looked at you like they knew what was going on, ignoring the idea of him.
Abbot showed up at your side during a trauma, a 16 year old kid with a broken leg, arm, a bleeding head wound and, possibly a brain bleed, he was clearly a possible attempt victim. You were busy calling the shots, your hands working furiously over the kid, when a hand on the small of your back pulled you from your thoughts for a split second. A subtle ‘I’m here’ from him, reminding you to breathe, reminding you that caring is good, reminding you that it wasn’t her.
One more shift. One more shift and you’d be in a different hospital with different doctors and different patients.
No Abbot, but no Robby either. Surely that tradeoff could work? You and Abbot were close, of course, but… you wouldn’t stay just for him. Just for those lunchroom coffees and vending machine snacks. Just for those small smiles from across crowded trauma rooms. Just for these small moments when he reminds you that even in the midst of a code that hits too close to home and an emergency department divided, there was someone who was there for you, someone who cared.
Can I request a part 2 to Dr. Worrywart? Maybe one where after he and the reader have the baby and Frank just returned back to the ED after paternity leave? You surprise Frank with your newborn son because you have to be at the hospital for his monthly check-up.
dr. worrywart returns- f.langdon
summary: finally, paternity leave is up (pretend it exists in america), and dr. worrywart is back in full swing
pairing: frank langdon x fem! doctor! reader (probs late twenties/ early thirties)
warnings: mentions of a traumatic pregnancy and surgeries, otherwise just fluff and everyone in the Pitt being nosy as fuck
a/n: omg you cooked so hard with this! i want to make this a series and like write how they met and everythinggggg (lmk if yall are interested and PLEASE send in requests) banners from my good friend @no-144444 !
part one -> dr. worrywart
Paternity leave would never be long enough, Frank knew that. Since dropping painkillers, he got his fix by playing with Cooper, and he didn’t want to leave him one bit.
“You’re going to be late,” you chastised him as he stood over his crib, that entranced stare in his eyes as he watched him chew on his finger. He didn’t know how it was possible that he loved him as much as he did. He was obsessed with every little move he made, obsessed with every little thing he did. Your hands wrapped around his waist and hugged him from behind. God, he had everything he wanted, everything he needed right here. You smiled against his back and he tried to commit the feeling to memory. “Robby’s going to kill you if you’re late.” you tried again, but both of you knew he’d be walking into the Pitt late.
You. He was always thinking about you. Sometimes it was the bright smile on your face once you met her. Sometimes it was the fear in your eyes when the delivery went wrong. Sometimes it was both. Sometimes it was neither and he was just thinking about how you’d kiss him once he got home from the store, or how you’d huff when Cooper wasn’t cooperating, and he was giggling beside you. You were so strong, so good with him, so… perfect.
He nodded and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his head, gaining a giggle. He was so wonderful. He smiled. He turned. He kissed you. You laughed.
“Come on,” he murmured against your lips. “I’m trying to be romantic here.” It only made you laugh harder. He squeezed your waist and kissed you deeper, his tongue swiping over your teeth as he pulled you flush against him. He’d like this since forever, perpetually horny and ridiculously silly when it came to getting some. You chuckled as you pulled gently at the root of his hair. He groaned.
“You need to get to work,” you pulled back and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “No excuses,” You pointed a finger at his chest and he wrapped a hand around it and brought it to his lips, kissing your hand with that stupidly attractive wide-eyed smile he had. You rolled your eyes. “God, you are such a hand-full,” You shook your head before brushing past him and picking Cooper up for his morning to begin. Frank watched you two, that soft smile on your lips and that bright smile on Cooper’s, it hit him right in the heart. He thanked whatever gave you both to him, and promised to be the best he could for you two. “Come on Dr. Worrywart, go!” you pushed his shoulder softly, making Cooper laugh. He leaned in once more, pressing his lips to yours for just a few seconds. His hand cupped Cooper’s back and once you’d pulled away, he pressed a soft kiss to his head, then he was out the door with his scrubs already on, his bag on his bag with the lunch you’d made him, and a very strong sense that he’d left his heart with the two of you.
The Pitt was chaos, it always was. Frank became Dr. Langdon again, and he was back to treating patients with injuries that ranged from the common cold to bullet wounds. He loved it, loved the adrenaline rush, loved the constant changing of patients and problems, and the ability to fix it.
“How are we doing today, Dr. King?” He smiled, walking up beside her. He’d been waiting for this. He and Mel weren’t exactly close enough yet to invite her to see Cooper, but he’d missed her. She’d grown on him in the time they’d worked together, she was smart and kind, and a good doctor. She reminded him of you in a way, she was just nicer to him.
Her face lit up, semi-awkwardly wrapping her arms around him, and announced. “You’re here!” He smiled and hugged her back (despite being surprised), a chuckle falling from his lips. She pulled back with that bright smile on her lips. “How are you? How’s Y/n? How’s the baby?”
“Y/n’s great, the birth was obviously… not great,” he cleared his throat. He didn’t like to think about it, didn’t really like to even entertain the idea that he could’ve been doing all of this alone. The people of the Pitt had heard (hospital gossip spreads faster than the flu somehow), and some had even visited you up in the ward. Robby, Dana, Garcia, Whitaker, and even Santos had come up. Mel hadn’t been sure if it was her place considering she knew Frank better than she knew you, but she’d sent some flowers up which you’d loved. “But yeah, she’s alright now,” a relieved smile landed on his lips, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Cooper is great. She’s perfect and totally fine,” he smiled like the proudest dad ever. “She’s just… amazing.” Mel smiled, happy for her friend.
“That’s amazing!” she smiled. Dana brushed past them, grabbing Frank by the collar. Mel sent him a concerned look but he just brushed it off, he’d been expecting this. The nurse’s station was a hub, everyone was waiting there for him.
“Photos now.” Dana demanded, dropping her hand as she and everyone else just watched him. He rolled his eyes (but couldn’t fight the excited smile on his lips), and pulled out his phone. His camera roll had turned into what could only be described as a shrine to you and Cooper. He caught Cooper napping? He took a picture. You were cooking? He took a picture. Cooper’s eyes were open? He took a picture. You were looking particularly gorgeous in his hoodie? He took a picture. He already had an album for pictures of Cooper and it was already 200 pictures full. Everyone huddled around, watching him scroll through the photos and videos of the most mundane things, with the biggest and stupidest smile on his face. They all cooed and smiled at the pictures of Cooper, and chuckled at the sheer amount of 0.5 photos you’d taken of him on Frank’s phone. They asked various questions about your health, his health, and all the ridiculous questions doctors ask about babies they care about.
“Shouldn’t you all be working?” Robby’s voice boomed over all of them, scattering them in a matter of seconds. He was still scary, even when there was humor in his voice. Whitaker nearly took out Santos on his way to his patient's room, causing an even bigger scene. Frank turned around to be met with the face of Robby. They’d been at odds since… well, everything, though they’d been professional and pleasant. Frank knew what Robby thought of him. He knew he’d told you to leave him. He knew he’d warned you about addicts and how big life events can be a lot, especially after only recently getting clean. He knew Robby was still hurt after what he’d done and said, so he understood that he was only trying to protect you. Frank was waiting for the snippy comment, or the awkward nod, but it didn’t come. Robby wrapped his arms around him and smiled. “Congratulations.” He said softly as Frank just accepted the hug with wide-eyes and shock.
“T-thanks man,” he stared at him. He took a breath and remembered his sponsor’s words. You have to forgive yourself before anyone else can forgive you. You got lucky that your wife forgave you before you did. Robby is going to take time, you let him down and then insulted him. Try apologising. If he doesn’t accept, then you leave him be. “Robby, look, I’m sorry about what I said. I was fucked up and totally in the wrong. You’re the strongest doctor I know, hell, you’re the strongest man I know. I’m sorry I was a dick. And thank you for everything that you did for me and Y/n, it was the worst fucking week of my life and you showed up even when you didn’t need to. ” His hands retreated into his pockets, and he debated running off to find a patient, but he didn’t. He stayed and he looked Robby in the eye.
He smiled softly, though it was slightly difficult to tell under the beard. “Thank you for apologising,” he nodded. “You’re a good doctor, Langdon. You’re a good guy too, you just made a mistake. It took me a while to see that. But I’m happy for you, and I’m proud of you. And I’ll always show up for you two.” He smiled.
Frank nodded before walking off to grab a patient, his shame a little lighter than it was before.
It was about 4pm before he got another break. He’d been on his feet all day, saving people left and right, getting his bearings again, and generally trying not to think about you and Cooper, who he so desperately wanted to see. He was busy charting (aka the most fun part about being a doctor) when squeals brought his mind out of its misery. His head shot up and he saw two faces he knew better than anything.
His charting was abandoned the second you smiled back at him. He stood to his full height and (nearly) ran over, his arms wrapping around you as he smiled brightly at the sight in front of him. “You’re here?” He said it with equal confusion as elation, and you rolled your eyes. He took Cooper out of your arms and bounced him happily, his eyes firmly on you as you explained.
“His one month check-up is today,” you reminded him. “I was heading upstairs so I figured I’d drop in and-”
“See a few patients?” Dana questioned, coming up beside you. You laughed and she pulled you into a hug, then turned her attention to Cooper. “Can I hold him?” She asked (more you than Frank, but he handed him over anyway). Dana was always good with kids. She always knew what to do or say and how to say or do it, and you both trusted her implicitly. She held him like he was the most fragile thing in the world, and you both agreed that he was. You had that look in your eye, the one you had any time you were looking at him. Pure love. Frank was sure he didn’t look too different.
“Thank God he got your looks,” Robby nudged you, watching the scene in front of him. Frank rolled his eyes as you chuckled, pulling him in for a hug. He’d been so kind to the both of you through it all. Dinners made and delivered to your door with just a note, eat- you’ll feel better, asking for nothing in return. He’d held Frank’s hand through the surgery. He held him as he sobbed, wondering if you’d ever wake up. He was the one who helped him sign the papers when his hands were too shaky to do so. He was the one who demanded he go home and rest. He was the one who was there when you woke up. He was the one who explained everything so Frank wouldn’t have to. He was the one who helped advocate for you, when Frank was still so in shock. He’d been your saviour, and he’d done it all through his own hurt and anger with Frank. Frank focused back into the conversation at hand, Cooper in Dana’s arms with a gaggle of Pitt staff watching on as he grabbed at his beard, that bright smile Frank loved so much clinging to his little boy’s lips.
“We have a surprise too,” you admitted, your hand absentmindedly searching for his. He took it instantly and pulled you closer, a hand in yours and another on your waist. He smiled, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling even brighter. “His middle name is… Michael,” you smiled as the group cheered and he let his head fall into his hands, overwhelmed by the gesture. You both reached over and pulled him into a hug, both whispering thank you’s to him.
After a while, your appointment time was getting close and you still had to somehow find the office (despite working in the building for nearly 4 years), and somehow pry Cooper out of Jack Abbot’s arms. You smiled at Frank as he watched over Cooper. “You alright handsome?” You asked, interlocking your hands.
He nodded, finally ripping his eyes off his baby. “Yeah, yeah, good. Missed you two like crazy already,” he admitted, chuckling at himself. “Is that strange?”
You shook your head, that fond smile that you really only reserved for him spreading onto your lips. “Not at all. I missed you like crazy today too. Weird being at home without you now.” You shrugged.
He smiled, the slight tension in his shoulders dissipating when he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Go to your appointment. You’re going to be late.” He threw your words from that morning back in your face, and you rolled your eyes.
“Whatever you say, Dr. Worrywart,” you called after yourself as you went up to Abbot to get your baby back. The nickname raised some eyebrows at the nurses station, but he didn’t care.
Finally, you were out of the Pitt and on your way upstairs when he sent you a text.
Make sure you ask about the burping thing. I can run up there if you want me? It’s (insert q-word here) today. Love you both so much xxx ps can we have pizza for dinner tonight? I REALLY want pizza. and you ;)
Fuck, Frank was going to be insufferable once you came back to work.
Imagine Robby and/or Dana clocking that reader is pregnant because of how hover-y Langdon is being around her and which patients she sees and such 😭🖤
dr.worrywart- f.langdon
summary: frank is not an openly affection man. what happens when that changes? the entire ER falls into the role of detective. robby and dana figure it out, of course.
pairing: frank langdon x fem! doctor! reader (probs late twenties/ early thrities)
warnings: litch nothing it's all just fluff and everyone in the Pitt being nosy as fuck
a/n: thanks for requesting, i LOVEEE this idea you're a genius! banners from my good friend @no-144444 !
Part two -> dr. worrywart returns
Langdon is hovering. That’s the first thing Princess notices. He’s always been the type to leave you to your work, mostly because you’d chew him out if he even dared step inside one of your trauma rooms, you’d see it as an offence. He had accepted that since your first days of med school together, he knew his place. You were Barbie, and he was Ken, just there. You two barely saw each other while on shift other than a few quick glances and waves or the occasional break room chat. Both of you were workaholics, and you both liked to go at it alone, so this was strange. You two walked in, and Frank had his arm around your waist. Regular-you would’ve hit his arm away. You just shrugged him off once you got to your station. She stared at you and you shrugged.
“He’s being clingy, I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” you shrugged, dropping your bag down. It was a partial-lie. You knew why he was being clingy, you were fucking pregnant. You did, in fact, not know what was wrong with him though. He was always a strange man. He stood beside you, looking at the board as he tried to cherry-pick, gaining a glare from Dana. He pretended he didn’t hear you two.
She chuckled. “He’s obsessed with you. It’s annoying to watch,” she shook her head. “Remind me again why you married him?” He sent her the middle finger behind your back. He lingered despite the fact that he had a case to work on, one he deemed interesting enough for him. His hands landed on your hips and he pushed his front against your back, acting like he was part of the conversation.
You rolled your eyes and pretended to think about the answer for a second. “I was in med school and needed someone to fuck so I could release the rest of my energy?” you joked and he rolled his eyes with a scoff. “What?” you looked back, smiling. “You should take it as a compliment, you’re so sexually talented, I’ve stayed with you all this time!” you sent him a bright smile and kissed his cheek as he rolled his eyes and removed himself from you. He walked off to his patient, mumbling something about ‘drive me crazy’, as Princess laughed at him.
“He’s hovering today,” she shook her head. “You’re not concussed again or something, right?” she questioned, referencing the time you got a concussion on shift and he wouldn’t leave you alone. It was the day everyone found out that you and Langdon didn’t actually hate each other, and that you actually shared the last name. You’d gone by your maiden name in your first year, mostly because you hadn’t bothered to legally change your name after the wedding for a long time (med school kept you busy), and also to avoid the awkward explanation.
You laughed. “No concussion yet, but the day is still young,” you smiled before walking off to your first case.
Princess shook her head. Something was up.
Mateo stared at Frank as he stared out the window. “You good?” he questioned. Everyone had been a bit nicer to Frank since he joined back to the Pitt after his rehab stint and sabbatical, so he didn’t go straight to teasing. Everyone knew it was difficult for him, and they understood that sometimes he might be a bit more snappy, or a bit dazed. They did their best to accommodate because, even if he was an asshole, he was an integral part of the Pitt, and people loved how happy he made you.
“Yeah,” he nodded, biting his lip and he didn’t take his eyes off whatever he was staring at. Mateo sucked in a breath.
“Dude,” he cleared his throat. Frank finally pulled his eyes away from whatever he was so entranced by. He faced Mateo. “You good?” He asked again, a hand on his shoulder.
He nodded slowly, then quicker. “Yeah, yeah,” he shook his head, like he was shaking off whatever was in his head. “Yeah I’m good. Just tired. Forget how hard these shifts are sometimes.” He chuckled semi-convincingly. Mateo just nodded, filling it into the back of his mind if Robby ever asks him about Langdon and how he thinks he's doing.
Frank left the room, pulling his stethoscope around his neck as he left. “He’s being weird,” Mateo shook his head. “Makes me nervous.”
Trinity let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. “Right? Super weird, he didn’t even chew me out for making a joke about his hair today.” She stared at the spot he’d last been like he’d just disappeared into thin air. Mel looked between the two of them, it being an unnaturally slow (she knew she was jinxing herself by even thinking it) day, meaning both her and Santos were on a case together.
“I think he’s being normal,” she shrugged, confused by their reactions to him. “He’s just… getting his bearings. It’s his first week back and his first day was the 4th, and that was terrible. He’ll be back to normal in a few days.” She offered them her signature smile, and got nothing but shaking heads in return. She frowned.
“He’s being strange,” Mateo repeated. He walked up to the window, searching for him. “I mean, look, he’s filling up Y/n’s bottle for her. That’s weird.”
“Why would that be weird?” Trinity and Mel asked at the same time.
Mateo’s jaw dropped. “You haven’t heard of the bottle incident of 2022?” he scoffed. They both shook their heads. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, so back then, none of us knew they were together, and all they used to do was bicker, which we all now know is their foreplay, which is gross,” he made a face, then continued on. “And one day, it got so bad, Y/n spilled Frank’s bottle all over him when he’d asked her to refill it, in front of Gloria and a patient. Ever since they’ve literally been banned from touching each other’s bottles. It always ends badly,” he looked out the window again to see him hand you the freshly refilled bottle, with a quick kiss to the cheek.
Mateo knew he had to consult Princess’s sheet.
Trinity stared at Frank in the breakroom. He was looking at something on his phone, but he was covering it with his other hand, like he didn’t want people to see. She raised an eyebrow, and kicked him in the leg (softly). “Watching porn at work?” she joked, Frank quickly turning off his phone and sending her his signature glare. “Come on, I’m kidding,” She smiled. “It’s good to have you back.”
He nodded, rolling his eyes. “Weirdly, it’s good to be back,” he agreed. He looked down. “Look, I was a dick to you before-” “aw thanks-” “Not finished. You can still be a pain in the ass, but you’re a good doctor. You’re talented. I was… well I was fucked up before, and I’m sorry I treated you the way I did. It wasn’t cool.” He finally met her eyes, an awkward sense of accountability filling the air. She blinked at him.
“Thank you for apologising,” she said tentatively. “That’s really… adult of you, I guess.” She chuckled to try and diffuse the awkwardness of the moment. Maybe Dr.Abbot was right about her needing to switch to nights? Day shift was too personal for her.
“Yeah well, I have to become one at some point,” he huffed before walking out, and she stared as he left, her jaw dropped to the floor. Had Frank Langdon just made a self-depricating joke? ER Ken, ‘the chin’, handsome squidward (okay maybe she came up with two of those), had actually admitted to having flaws. She watched as he swung by your workstation, a granola bar in hand, pressing it into your palm as he kissed the top of your head.
She was adding it to Princess’s list.
Jesse hated it when Langdon interfered with your work, because you always let him. Langdon wasn’t the most openly affectionate husband, hell, no one had known you two were together for about a year. Neither of you had anything to prove, no PDA would change the fact that you two loved each other, and everyone knowing really just made things more complicated.
So why the fuck was Langdon taking all the good cases and Jesse was stuck with him for half of them? It was no secret that you were Jesse’s favourite doctor, you were cool-headed, always kind to nurses, and always in a good mood somehow. He’d seen you lose it once, and it was the day Langdon’s drug problem was uncovered by Robby, and then the mass casualty after it. You’d sobbed in the breakroom with Jesse and Yolanda at your side, emotionally exhausted from the toll of the day. As the months rolled on and Langdon started his rehab journey, you still stayed positive. You were still smiling, still updating everyone and telling them he was doing well, telling them he missed them, even though they knew he didn’t. He missed you, missed being at work with you. Everyone else was just a side-character to him, you were everything.
“What the fuck is going on? You’re taking all the good cases and leaving Y/n with the shit,” Jesse asked as he threw his gloves in the bin. “I mean, come on, she’s getting all the easy ones! I did CPR in there for 4 rotations before someone else came to help!” He scoffed as Langdon turned to him.
“She’s tired,” Frank shrugged, dropping his own gloves into the bin as he passed Jesse. “She asked me to take ‘em, I took ‘em.”
Okay, Jesse knew that was bullshit. You always thought about yourself last, it was always the patients first. You also wouldn’t let Frank have all the fun with the difficult cases.
Jesse stared at the sheet as he stood at the nurses station. He added it, just to be safe.
Perlah was appalled by the sight in front of her. She had half a mind to write you both up. Frank had his hand around your waist in the breakroom, a hand sprawled over almost your entire stomach, with his head leaning on yours, just listening to whatever story Jack was recounting. She watched him. Chewing slowly against you, a thumb running back and forth over your scrubs.
You noticed her staring and sent her a mouthed sorry and a shrug, like you had no idea what had gotten into him. Perlah decided to blame it on first week back-jitters. She just averted her eyes when he leant down and stole a quick kiss, shocking the both of you in the process.
It was the next line on the list by noon.
Dennis Whittaker took no pleasure in making the right call when it meant he would face the wrath of Frank Langdon. He’d made a quick save, realised something before him, and he’d ordered the correct meds before he could consult. He didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to fight. He just wanted to calmly explain that technically, Frank had made the wrong call.
“You alright Whitty?” You called out, Frank at your side. Whitty was something you’d started to call him a few months ago after he’d made a witty joke out of nowhere, making you laugh so hard, you’d cried. “What’s up?” You questioned. Frank’s eyes snapped to him and he took a very sharp breath.
“Y’know Mr. Gregor?” he asked, you shook your head and turned your attention to Frank. He nodded. “Well I was going over his CT scan and I notice how close his bleed was getting to causing a seizure and I know you told me not to push Atorvastatin unless he was actually seizing, but I tried it anyway, and his BP went way down and he’s stable enough to go to theatre,” he blurted out. “Sorry, I know I should’ve told you, o-or gotten you, or-”
A smile bloomed on Frank’s face. “Good save, kid,” he smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Go check on Mrs. Taylor, yeah?”
Whittaker walked away genuinely concerned that Frank had been replaced with a different person. He added it to the list after he told Trinity about it.
It took a lot for Mel to notice something. She usually just assumed everyone was alright, and if they weren’t, they could speak up and say something about it. She knew that Frank had been a bit… antsy since coming back. He constantly looked for you once he left a patient's room. He stared all the time. He kissed you whenever you got close enough to him. You just laughed it off. Called him clingy, or a big baby. He didn’t bite back. He just smiled. He didn’t argue, just tried to kiss you again before you pushed him off, warning him about being written up. You acted like this total 180 personality change was normal. She swallowed back her surprise when Frank had started rattling off facts about pregnant women, to the pregnant woman in front of him. Obviously, every doctor and nurse here had knowledge on pregnancies, but this was overkill. Random facts about fetal anatomy and positioning. Those ‘lovey-dovey’ (as Santos had so elegantly branded it) things about mothers and babies that he would’ve called bullshit a year ago.
She blinked when she started talking about various tracking apps he wouldn’t have known the name of a year ago.
The patient was discharged with a smile, and Mel turned to him. “Trying to get patient satisfaction up?” She asked incredulously, completely at a loss for words.
He shrugged. “No, why?”
She stared, mouth open and helpless, like she thought he should know what she was talking about. He just stared back. “But, you knew all that?” She chuckled, more surprised than laughing.
“You don’t?” he asked before leaving the room, probably off to find you.
She added it to the list after a talk with Dana.
Dana had been keeping an eye on the both of you all day. Princess had shared her strange findings on a small chart at the nurse’s station. Frank had gone to find you 18 times in 7 hours, when he could usually go the entire shift without looking for you. Dana looked it over, confused, what the fuck was he doing?
“How’s your resident doing?” Dana asked as Robby came up beside her. Her eyes stayed on the piece of paper. It had add-ons from Mateo, Santos, Jesse, Perlah, Whittaker, even Mel was in on it. He stared at Frank from across the room, talking animately to a patient.
He sighed. “I don’t know yet. Still wondering if we brought him back too early,” He shook his head and noticed the sheet of paper. Robby stared at the sheet for a moment, then ripped his glasses off his face. He huffed. “Fuck’s sake.” he breathed out, and she turned to him expectantly, then it dawned on her.
“We’re going to be losing two of our best Senior residents in about 8 or 9 months for paternity leave,” She shook her head with a smile, and Robby couldn’t exactly hide his own.
Of course.
He’d had his hands on you all day. He kept looking for you to make sure you were alright. He refilled your water without having to be asked. He gave you his protein bar. Come to think of it, he’d been taking the strenuous cases and leaving you with the easy ones. He even took Trinity off your hands so that you could take Mel and have an easier day. Robby chuckled, grabbing Frank as he passed by, his eyes set on one thing, you.
He didn’t notice the hand reaching out and grabbing the collar of his scrubs, so he kind of tripped into stopping. “Woah!” he scoffed, his hands up in air as he balanced himself, Robby’s hand retracting. “What the fuck was that for?”
Robby smirked as Frank turned his attention back to you, those tiny glances everyone had seen all day. “Y/n’s still going to be there in 4 seconds,” he shook his head. Frank looked at him, faking confusion. “What’s going on? How far along is she?”
Frank’s face went blank. Dana laughed, gaining the attention of Princess and half the nursing staff. Frank cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shook his head. Frank Langdon was many things. Blunt, rude, annoying. One thing he was not, was a good liar. Dana laughed into Robby’s shoulder as a chuckle left his own lips.
“Sure kid, just let me know so I can book off your paternity leave,” he clapped a hand on Frank’s shoulder, who quickly brushed it off, irritation surging through his body. Robby stayed smiling. “I’m happy for you two, congratulations.”
Frank gritted his teeth, stepping in closer, his voice cutting and final. “She is not pregnant. We are not pregnant!” He practically shouted, gaining the attention of nearly the whole ER. Everyone stared, he went bright red, he cleared his throat, and he walked.
Straight to you, of course. You laughed at him as he pushed some of his hair out of his face, following you around like a puppy. You hadn’t heard his outburst, but no doubt you’d hear about it.
“Nice catch Robby,” Dana smiled. “I wouldn’t have guessed it.” She shook her head.
He shrugged. “He’s such a worrier the second she gets sick, we’re going to have to deal with this for months now.”
The small group that had gathered all realised they’d have to deal with Dr. Worrywart for a whole 9 months. They quickly went back to work.
“I think everyone’s onto us,” You chuckled as Frank came up to you for the 24th time that day. He shook his head.
“No, I think we’re good. No one knows-”
“Everyone knows!” Both Robby and Dana cheered from behind you. Dana hugged you from behind as you laughed, Frank’s blank expression breaking into an annoyed squint. “Congratualtions,” she smiled. “You’re going to be the coolest parents.”
“I think you already fill that role,” you chuckled, taking her hand. “But thank you.”
“Congratualtions.” Robby smiled, shaking Frank’s hand and then pulling you into a hug as Dana pulled Frank into a reluctant hug.
They left you after a few more congratulations and you turned to Frank. “You’re totally right, no one knows,” you teased.
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, fuck off,” he couldn’t fight the bright smile on his lips.
could you do something with jack abbot x doctor reader where she gets assaulted and he LOSES his shit but so does the other guy and he gets punched so she's like cleaning him up and he finally confesses that he's in love with her???
love the pitt and LOVE your blog :)
heading out- j. abbot
summary: a terrible week continues with the start of a terrible shift where a waiting patient decides to grab you as you walk in. jack finds out. chaos ensues.
pairing: jack abbot x fem! doctor! reader (probs late twenties/ early thrities)
warnings: reader gets assaulted (multiple times), jack gets hurt, general hospital things, general Pitt themes, talk of blood and cuts, robby and dana are saints, whittaker is the goat at being unable to tell a lie
a/n: thanks for requesting! banners from my good friend @no-144444 !
You walked into the ED with a renewed sense of irritation. Of course, of course, your third 12 hour shift in a row, the week you’d only slept about 2 hours a night because of the mess inside your brain, of fucking course, one of the waiting room patients decides its time to grab your ass so hard you were sure it bruised. You let out a yelp. You slapped his hand away as he protested and complained. You found out his name. You asked one of the receptionists to put him at the bottom of the list even though you thought his case would be a pretty dire one, she complied, appalled with his behaviour. You didn’t give a shit, honestly, you just wanted your shift to begin and end.
“You alright Dr. Y/l/n?” Dennis asked, his voice an octave higher than it should be. Whittaker was becoming a good friend, and you liked him. You were known for walking in bright-eyed and bushy tailed, ready for another day of hell. Robby stared at you as you shook your head, trying to keep the bile down, trying to keep the rage at bay. “Something happen?” he spoke lower, keeping it between you two. Dana quickly latched onto the conversation, standing to her full height to your right. Dennis stood to your left. You just shook your head.
“Nothing I’m not used to,” you answered curtly. Robby looked unimpressed, Dennis sighed, and Dana just nodded. You didn’t want to talk about it, but you’d been getting grabbed and groped all week. Every shift there was a new asshole convinced he was living in one of his porno fantasies and tried to fuck you or get your number. There was that guy who tried his luck with trying to shove a hand down your pants, Mateo thankfully stopped that before it happened. There was the 19 year old kid who groped your tits on Tuesday, again, Shen put a stop to that very quickly. Who knew a foreign object in someone’s wound could hurt so much? Was it ethical or right for him to briefly stick his finger in just before he gave the kid anesthetic? No, but you both enjoyed watching him squirm for a split second. Then there was the old fuck who did even worse, grabbed your neck like it was some sexy thing, Walsh pushed him off, and gave him a thorough talk. It was kind of funny, if he'd pulled hard enough, Jack's. dogtags would've spilled out from under your scrubs.
You were annoyed, obviously. You wanted to hit every single one of them, of course. But you were also grateful that they’d tried their luck while Abbot wasn’t there, because he’d have them kicked out of the ED immediately, which you thought was kind of overkill.
“Another one?” Robby scoffed, setting down his mug as he questioned why anyone would feel it right to put their hands on a medical professional.
“That has to be some sort of record this week,” Dennis shook his head. You offered him a soft smile, chuckling slightly with him and Dana, though none of you actually found it funny, it was more just… shocking.
“Want me to grab him? He’s on the roof.” Robby’s offer was sweet and genuine, but you knew Jack would lose it. You shook your head. Not everyone knew, but Robby, Dana, and Dennis did. They knew about the dates you and Jack had been indulging in. Robby thought it was just a matter of time before one of you asked to be on the same shift, especially considering Jack had finally asked if he could call you his girlfriend. Of course, you said yes.
“Grab who?” His voice was behind you before you knew what was going on. You jumped, cursing him as he smiled at you. “What’s going on Trouble?” Ah, Trouble, his nickname for you since you nearly burned his apartment down trying to cook. So you weren’t a Michelin-star chef, whatever. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t fight the fond smile on your lips. You wished you could just turn back and walk back to his apartment with him, have dinner together, maybe fuck and fall asleep in his bed. You couldn’t. You had a shift to work and patients to treat, and probably more gropings in your future.
“She-” Dennis started but you cut him off.
“Nothing,” you shook your head. “Just tired. How was your shift?” you asked, trying desperately to change the topic. You had to change the topic, or the three blabber-mouths beside you would spill, and you’d be in a world of trouble. Jack raised an eyebrow and looked at Dennis. He looked back at you. He looked at Robby. He looked back at you. He looked at Dana. His face hardened and he opened his mouth to say something, but you got there first. “Fine, someone groped me on the way in. It’s fine. I’m fine,” you admitted, crossing your arms. His demeanour changed, his back straightened, his stance changed, his lips pursed. “Stop making this a big thing,” You told him, a finger on his chest. “Go home, sleep, make me dinner. I’ll see you at home in 12 hours.” You didn’t miss the way Dana nudged Robby when you said home. Technically you didn’t live together, but his apartment was a 9 minute walk from the hospital and it was so handy to stay there on days you had shifts, so you ended up staying over a lot.
“Is he still in the waiting room?” he asked, voice as cool as ice. He was scarily calm. Beside you, Dennis nodded, and you swore you could’ve killed him. You had planned to try and blag your way out of this, but cleary, Mr. Truthful beside you had other plans. You rolled your eyes as Jack’s feet started moving, quicker and quicker, and you followed until you were out in the waiting room. You sent Dennis a death-glare and he raised his hands in a mock-surrender/ apology, and you forgave him right away. It was hard not to when he was such a sad looking, helpless intern. “Who?” he whispered, wrapping a hand around your waist gently.
“You’re going to get us written up-” you started, but he squeezed your waist and stared at you with those cold eyes. You weren’t going to get written up, not by Dana or Robby, and if anyone else had a problem with it, they could shove it, frankly.
“Who?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. You rolled your eyes and pointed out the gentleman. He moved to pull away but the hand you’d reached into his hair, pulled his roots and he stopped, looking at you expectantly.
“He’s already at the bottom of the list,” you told him, and a satisfied smile broke out on Dana’s lips. “And you can’t assault a patient.” You added that last part mostly because of the crazy look in his eye.
“I’m not going to assault a patient, I’m going to remove him,” he gritted out. “He can go to another ED.” He shrugged. You let go of him and watched as he walked over to the guy, his steps strong and angry. You bit your lip as the shouting started.
“You can go on your own sir, or you can be removed,” Jack’s voice boomed over the constant flow of insults from the man, totally in control. “You need to calm down!”
“That fucking bitch was tempting me!” The man argued, and you took in a sharp breath, your anger rising. Dana rested a hand on your shoulder to signal that she was heading back inside, Robby did the same as you heard the coding alarms go off. Dennis stayed beside you, his eyes wide as he watched the exchange.
“Sir, you cannot assault and insult members of our staff, we are asking you to leave-” He was cut off by a sharp left hook straight to his cheek, and you gasped in shock with the rest of the people in the waiting room. Your feet worked before your brain did, running over and trying to pull them off each other, Olsen rushing over behind you. “Fucking dick,” he spat out blood as he finally seperated from the psycho, a gash on his arm, blood gushing from his nose, and a split brow. You immediately went to his aid, looking him over. “I’m fine,” he said lowly, his hands falling to your waist. “I’m fine.” He spoke again, trying to convince you. You shook your head and took his hand, leading him back inside and into one of the empty medical bays, and sat him on the bed as he complained about being fine.
“Shut the fuck up Jack,” you scoffed, grabbing some gauze and shoving it up his nose as he grimaced. “Just shut up.” you demanded, pulling on gloves and looking him over. You huffed as you cleaned his wounds, no words being spoken between the two of you as you just tried to keep your anger under control. You weren’t angry at just him, the situation was fucked, but it was so dumb to try and go over to the guy alone. He should’ve called Olsen over, and Olsen would’ve just called the police and had it dealt with. He didn’t need to get hurt. He watched you as you cleaned him up, then moved onto his nose, carefully examining it. He actually loved to see this side of you, the work side. You were such a genius, so talented, so smart, it was just mesmerising.
“I’m fine,” he repeated and you rolled your eyes.
“I’m giving you some anti-inflamatories,” you huffed, pulling off your gloves and dropping them in the bin. “Then you’re leaving.” You said definitively. He sighed as you turned to go to the pharmacy, and a hand on your waist stopped you from moving any further. You bit back snapping at him and breathed out, trying to be calm.
“Thank you,” he smiled softly, pulling you closer. “For taking care of me,” he added. You nodded and turned into him, your hands running through his hair as he leant his head against your chest, and his hands ran up and down the backs of your legs gently. “And for not being mad.” He added that last part to mostly gauge how you were feeling, and he felt you sigh.
“For someone so smart, you’re so dumb sometimes,” you groaned. “I mean, for fuck’s sake Jack, what would have happened if we couldn’t have gotten him off you? Or if we didn’t get there quick enough? He was ready to slam your head into the pillar,” You shook your head, the worst scenarios running through your mind. “I don’t want you to put yourself at risk for me,” You expanded. “It’s not fair, Jack. It’s not right-”
“You’re my girlfriend and some jackass touched you in a way you didn’t want to be touched. You were uncomfortable. I was going to remove him either way,” he shrugged. “He needed to go, he could’ve done it to anyone,” he added logically. “I want to keep you safe,” He smiled up at you sadly. “I just want to keep you safe.”
You nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I know Jack,” you smiled softly. “You do. Thank you. I just… I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I’d get hurt for you any day,” he smiled goofily, his hands squeezing your waist. “I love you.” He admitted quietly, his eyes full of emotion. You barely stifled your gasp.
You smiled, brighter than you had in days. He always had that affect, he made you happy, all the fucking time. It was dizzying. “Yeah, Dr. Abbot?” you questioned teasingly. He smirked.
“You know what that does to me,” he groaned softly. The tension in the room had dissipated. “You’re not playing fair.”
“Well,” you grinned. “I love you too, Dr. Abbot,” you smiled before walking off to grab his meds, leaving him behind with a satisfied smirk, and simultaneously deeply unsatisfied with how quickly your chat ended.
gone 4 months after the mass casualty and the incident that ended with your estrangement to your brother dr. robinavitch, you're finally on your last day. a surprise visit from gloria means everyone finds out and a certain doctor has to pull you outside for a chat.
officially together you and robby get found out, which leads to a HR meeting, and a possible break up...
its okay this week has been terrible, someone makes it worse and you break. robby is there to pick up the pieces.
dr. jack abbot
someone else you come back from a shitty weekend to an even shittier monday with rumours of your kind-of-boyfriend being into someone else. it only gets worse when an aggravated patient gets his hands on you, and jack doesn't even know.
heading home a terrible week continues with the start of a terrible shift where a waiting patient decides to grab you as you walk in. jack finds out. chaos ensues.
live without you moved to UMPC ED, and obviously you don't need jack, and he totally doesn't need you.
-> the apartment jack visits your apartment, and robby realises something too.
admitting a fight leads to a confession, and jack abbot finally admits something he wants.
the first night the first night you stay over at jack's place goes well, and simultaneously badly.
always you have to go home for a wedding. jack comes to support. you think it's the end of your relationship, he proves it's not.
dr. frank langdon
dr.worrywart frank is not an openly affection man. what happens when that changes? the entire ER falls into the role of detective. robby and dana figure it out, of course.
-> dr. worrywart returns finally, paternity leave is up (pretend it exists in america), and dr. worrywart is back in full swing
summary: you come back from a shitty weekend to an even shittier monday with rumours of your kind-of-boyfriend being into someone else. it only gets worse when an aggravated patient gets his hands on you, and jack doesn't even know.
pairing: jack abbot x fem! doctor! reader (probs late twenties/ early thrities)
warnings: reader gets hurt, jack is an oblivious arsehole, general hospital things, general Pitt themes, robby and dana are saints, no mohan slander :)
a/n: hey yall...! back from the dead (aka writer's block). I'm in love with the pitt so please send in some requests or just lmk what yall think of this :) banners from my good friend @no-144444 ! gif from ho-ii
Imagine how you felt, walking into that fucking breakroom, exhaustion pulling at your eyelids as you somehow pushed past the tiredness and pain that shot through you with every step, and everyone was talking about Jack and someone else.
The lounge was a cacophony of “They were totally hitting it off-” and “Abbot’s sooooo into her-”. For a split second, you thought it was about you, that maybe, just maybe he’d finally had the balls to tell someone other than Robby or Dana or Makay, finally made you feel like something other than a dirty little secret. Then the name Mohan popped up, and your jaw dropped, despite the way you wanted to seem unphased. Of fucking course he moved onto someone else, moved onto another fucking resident. You just rolled your eyes and continued on your way, sugary coffee in your hand that tasted closer to cardboard than vanilla, but you drank it anyway. You needed it, after the weekend you’d had. You’d missed the mass casualty, only because of a funeral of your own. Your sister. 23. Dead. You hadn’t told Jack yet, it still sounded weird in your ears. She was only 5 years younger than you. It made something like bile rise in your throat, but you were already at the nurses station, so you swallowed it back and smiled at Dana, a black eye and a tired expression hanging off her own features.
“Long weekend?” you asked, setting your coffee down on your desk. Some people forgot emergency medicine was like all other forms of medicine, admin-heavy. She leaned against your shoulder, relieved to see you.
“The longest,” she admitted, clinging to you like she wasn’t sure you wouldn’t bolt if she let go. Maybe you would if you saw him. “Talked to Jack yet?” She asked, seemingly sensing it. You rolled your eyes and massaged your temples, a migraine already building. She chuckled. “What’d he do this time?” She teased, and you didn’t even know what to say. You didn’t even know what he did, but you already knew you felt like a second choice, and you fucking hated that. You felt unwanted. For fuck’s sake, neither of you had actually admitted you two were dating, just labelling it as ‘fooling around’ like you were carefree teenagers. You knew you should’ve pushed him to admit it, pushed him towards being real with you. But you saw how it disinterested him. So you didn’t. You just walked beside him was you both decompressed from your days of torture in the Pitt, then followed him up ot his apartment, and helped him make dinner or hold him as he sobbed. Or he’d hold you.
“Just tired,” you shook your head. “Migraine coming in already.” You chuckled like it was funny at all, but you both knew it wasn’t. She patted your shoulder and nodded.
“Well, people need you,” she sighed. “Even if I need you more,” she whispered that last part, a bright smile on her lips as she took delight in making you smile. You rose up from your desk, gave her a quick but tired smile, and walked into your first patient, a 14 year old boy with abdominal pain, a simple case of appendicitis, you let Whittaker take the lead with the case. God, he looked tired. You’d only met the boy that day, but he looked like he’d already been through the wars. He probably had. Everyone had that week of panic, that week of wondering if any of this is worth it, if the stress and pain is worth the sacrifice of your sanity and wellbeing. Some people, like you, decide it is. Others don’t. You don’t judge either. You could see that Whittaker was a stayer though, and that made you smile, you needed more sensitive people here, people who still have it in them to care. You felt the exam room as an alarm sounded, ready and willing to help, when you saw them. Walking in together.
Mohan had been around for a while, she was sweet, you really liked her. It had taken some coaxing, but you'd convinced her to go out to drinks with you, and you’d become fast friends, bonding over shared trauma of the Pitt and dead fathers. She was sweet, and she cared. Jack had his bag slung over his shoulder, an easy smile on his lips as he listened to her talk. Dana stared too. Robby’s hand on your back rerouted you to the coding patient, and suddenly the thoughts of Jack and Samira fell away as your shift got more and more hectic, new patients coming in, more complicated cases requiring you specifically. Robby kept his eye on you as you went about your day, and you noticed. Those tiny looks of concern he sent to everyone when he knew they were past their breaking point.
A case came in. Aggravated man. Some sort of stabbing. He was on something. You didn’t listen, just rushed to help. You had hands around your throat before you knew what was happening. The tarmac hit the back of your head so hard you thought you might’ve vomited, but soon adrenaline rushed through your body as his body pushed against yours, hands around your neck as he cleanly cut off your air supply. The paramedics tried to pull him off, only able to do so when Robby ran out, more fear in his eyes than you’d ever want to see, and you reminded yourself that you’d never want to be one of Robby’s patients. The guy was taken away and sedated. It was Cassie who pulled you off the ground, Robby already busy trying to get back inside to help with something else going wrong, you were sure. You spluttered out a few coughs as the pain bloomed in your throat and neck, and your migraine somehow got worse.
She offered you a sad smile. “Can I examine you?” she asked tentatively.
“No beds,” you answered, your voice hoarse and painful. She shook her head.
“There’s always one for one of us,” she draped one of your shoulders over hers and helped you inside. Everyone started, patients and doctors and nurses alike, everyone was looking. Dana shook her head, and you knew there was rage running through her veins, but neither of you could do anything now. You just wanted to sit, to be in a room that didn’t have bright white lighting, to be alone. Cassie pulled you into an exam room and sat you down, checking everything. She ordered a CT, just to check your head and neck, but everything else was fine. She bandaged up the cut on your elbow, and sent you up to CT.
You sat there, eyes watering as you just endured. Endured the day, endured the pain, endured everything. You didn’t think he’d be up here, you thought he’d be downstairs, working with patients. Your heart stopped when you heard his voice.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed out. It was followed with a chuckle. “Mohan, you scared the shit out of me.” He smiled, that stupidly attractive smile that made you want to run over there and hit him, or maybe kiss him. There they were, outside CT, probably waiting on patients. Their conversation flowed easily, chemistry oozing, flirty comments dropping from Mohan’s mouth like water from a tap. He didn’t shut it down. He just smiled and blushed. He fucking blushed.
“Dr. Y/n Y/l/n?” One of the nurses called your name out, and you stood, holding your waiver as you readied yourself for your CT. You didn’t look back to see his reaction, hell, you doubted he heard it. She took one look at you, Maria was her name, one of your first colleagues when you worked upstairs in the Paediatrics ward for your first round all those years ago, before you chose the insanity of the Pitt. She frowned. “What happened?”
You chuckled but it wasn’t funny, and it didn’t sound right. “Patient got upset,” you shrugged. She nodded, understanding exactly what you meant. Everyone had been assaulted, you were sure of it. It was appalling the treatment you all got, like you weren’t risking your own lives and well-being to make others alright. She set you up in the machine and left you to your thoughts for a moment.
“Where the fuck have you been?” The venom in Robby's voice pulled Jack from his conversation with Yolanda. He turned and stared, confused.
“You needed me? Why didn’t you call-?” Jack questioned, but Robby cut him off, pulling him into an empty on-call room.
“Y/n needed you. She got fucking choked half to death and you were nowhere to be found,” Robby let out one of those awful, disappointed laughs before continuing. “I mean, fuck’s sake Jack. You talk to me about marrying the girl, and you’re too swept up in Mohan to realise she hit her head off the ground so hard we sent her straight up to CT. Her neck is black and blue.”
Everything had stopped in Jack’s world. His breathing, his brain, his body, it all just stopped. You were hurt and you’d needed him, he’d missed you in CT somehow, and he hadn’t known. He cursed himself. His eyes watered despite himself, and he swallowed hard. “W-what happened?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“She got attacked by a patient. Out in the ambulance bay. He jumped off the gurney and on top of her and just started squeezing her throat,” the recount was violent and harsh, but he needed to hear it like that, realise how scary it was, and how terrible it was that he wasn’t there. He nodded, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. God, he wanted to sob. He wanted to scream. He hated this fucking place. He hated it. Robby shook his head. “She’s in CT. Go.”
Jack’s feet moved before he registered they were. Dana sent him a scowl as he rushed towards the elevators, his heart beat much higher than it should’ve been. The doors opened, and there you were. Hand prints on your throat. Papers in your hand. A tired and slightly unreadable expression on your face. Your eyes widened when you saw him. A tear slipped through his lashes when he saw you. One of his hands reached out… but you just walked on. No acknowledgement. No smile. No teasing comment or whispered dirty talk in his ear. Just blank. Just tried. He blinked. He turned, his eyes searching the room for you again. You were at the nurse’s station with Robby and Dana, probably showing them your scan, trying to prove you were well enough to work. Robby shook his head, and you dropped your head to the counter, Dana’s hand slipping between your forehead and the wooden surface just in time to stop yourself from injuring yourself further. He walked over, his eyes glued to the document.
“I’m fine,” you argued. “I just want to work to keep my mind off it.” You showed them your totally clear CT scan, well, clear other than the tiny skull fracture you’d received from your attacker.
Robby looked at you, his eyes caring and soft. They hardened when he saw Jack. He cleared his throat. “Good of you to finally join us, Dr. Abbot,” he bit out, that venom from earlier glaringly apparent. He didn’t miss the way you stiffened and he gulped. “Dr. Y/l/n here wants to continue working.”
“Baby,” he let it out before he knew what he was even saying, and covered it with a cough. “Come on, just let me drive you home and you can come back in tomorrow,” he said it low, and you felt that pang of pain in your chest again, as that voice in your head screamed at you. He’s ashamed, the voice spoke. You pursed your lips.
“Dana, can you drive me home?” you asked, pleadingly. Jack took in a sharp breath. Dana looked between the two of you.
“I think you two need to talk.” She said definitively. She and Robby offered you hugs and pitying smiles, and Robby death-glared Jack as he helped you pack up your stuff.
The car was cold, but that was to be expected in the dead of the Pittsburgh winter. You stared at your own breath as Jack got the car running, your car, but he’d insisted on driving. The slice wasn’t awkward, it was charged, tense. Like you both things you had to say, and not all of it was nice. He chucked your bags in the backseat with a huff, and turned the keys in the ignition. But he didn’t pull away, didn’t pull out of the staff car park, didn’t move, really. He had so much he wanted to say, so many things he had to be sorry for. He didn’t know where to start, but all those sessions with his therapist ran through his mind about conflict resolution, about caring for people, about accountability. He took in a deep breath and blew it back out, then he turned to you.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he breathed out, taking your hand in the low-light of the parking lot. “I should’ve been, God, I should’ve been. I just, I don’t know-”
“You were with Mohan,” you nodded, staring straight ahead. Your eyes were wide as he raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been with Mohan all fucking ay,’ you shook your head, a sick looking smile creeping onto your lips. “I guess it was a matter of time, right?” you asked, turning to him. You met his eyes, full of confusion, but you pressed on anyway. “We always had an expiration date, I suppose. Some new resident was always going to be more interesting than me.” You shrugged like you didn’t care, but you did. You hated this, hated not feeling wanted or cared about, or even fucking noticed.
He stared at you like you’d slapped him with his scarlet letter, his heart stinging as he tried to control the bile in his throat. Him and Mohan? No way. He admired her as a doctor, and yes, he heard the flirty comments, but he didn’t like her, not like that at least. Not in the way he bled and died for you, but he’d always been too scared to admit it, so he didn’t. He nodded when you said you two were casual, just fooling around, like some fucking careless teenagers. He pretended it didn’t bother him when he watched Mateo wink at you, or see the way you looked up to Robby like something more than a mentor, but he trusted you. Fuck, he loved you. His mouth dropped open as his heart stung. “What the fuck does that mean?” His voice was lower than usual, deep and dangerous. Like it was when you’d been teasing him all day and then decided to play a game of cat and mouse for him to find you though the hospital.
“I mean, I get it, I’m not the shiny new toy anymore,” you crossed your arms. You knew you were lashing out, but you couldn’t do it. He spent all fucking day with her. He was in CT while your name was called. He just didn’t hear, or he didn’t care. “Maybe you’ll actually tell someone other than your most trusted friends about you and her, and she won’t have to feel like such a fucking secret.” You added out of pure spite. You hated sneaking around. You hated feeling like you had to hide the fact that your heart beat for him.
His face changed. He stiffened. “You’re not a secret,” he shook his head and you laughed, so he cupped your chin and turned you towards him. He had that hardened look in his eyes. You gulped back some tears and listened, so sure he was about to break up with you. Hand you some bullshit about workplace relationships or his trauma that excused him perfectly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, damn it. I love you, Y/n Y/l/n. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there today, and I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like this, but don’t ever think I want anyone else. You’re it for me. You’re everything,” his voice was harsh and coated in emotion. You searched his eyes for any sense of dishonesty and found none. He meant it. Your breath hitched. He brushed a hand through your hair, moving the hair out of the way. “Love you so much it hurts sometimes,” he admitted, his voice low as the first few tears slipped past his water line. “Can’t believe you're hurt and I wasn’t there.” he shook his head and sniffled, trying to push the emotions back down as he’d trained himself to do.
You reached a hand out and cupped his cheek. “I love you too.” You pushed forward, gently lacing your lips with his, as the energy in the car dissipated. You didn’t give him a second to react, just kissed him as softly as you could. His hand cradled your face like it was the most precious thing in the world. He still had things to make up for, and many more conversations were to be had, but he loved you. You could get through whatever bullshit anyone throws at you once you knew he loved you.
summary: an unsub capturing you makes for a pretty interesting love confession
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem! reader
warnings: mention of reader being hurt, violence, mental, physical, emotional abuse, regular criminal minds topics (i think that's it? PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING)
not entirely proofread
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You knew you had to take in your surroundings, try to remember what had happened before, think.
All you knew was that one moment, you were on your way home from work, and the next you had a bruising grip on the back of your head, leading you through the hallways of this dusty, dark, shithole.
Suddenly, he stopped. He was a man, obviously, 5’7ish, buff build, dark clothing that doesn’t fit him correctly, strong, shoes a size too big, and a balaclava. “Get in there, bitch.” American accent, deep voice, but definitely grew up in Washington. There was a chance you were still in Washington.
He shoved you down the stairs, into a basement. When you came to, your head was bleeding and you’d definitely broken a few ribs. You just hoped that Aaron would find you. You tended to your wound as best you could and allowed yourself to rest, knowing more would be to come. You had to figure out why he wanted you. Was it because he knew you worked for the FBI, or were you just the closest woman to him?
The ground was cold and hard, but it would do for one night. You hoped this would be one night. You hoped the team could solve it.
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“Where’s Agent Y/l/n?” Morgan asked, sitting beside Spencer in the briefing room.
“Late,” Rossi grunted.
“She’s never late,” Penelope argued. “She’s never been late a day in her life and she didn’t answer any of my phone calls this morning.”
Aaron Hotchner, your secure, steady, collected, and calm boss, began to sweat a little. The same thing had happened to him, you weren’t answering his calls, there was no ‘I got home safe’ text, and you didn’t answer your door when he knocked on it that morning.
“I’m sure she’s just sick,” Rossi shot back, trying to put Penelope at ease. “She’s a big girl, you don’t need to baby her.”
Aaron didn’t miss the way Rossi looked at him during that last part. He wasn’t babying you, he’d never do that. He wanted to protect you, keep you safe, make sure he got to see that beautiful smile everyday.
“We have a case,” Aaron announced. “Right here in Washington.”
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No matter how loud you screamed, he didn’t stop. He kept hitting, and punching, and hurting. By the time you walked back down to your basement, you were exhausted, bruised, and scared. You were slightly losing hope that Aaron and the team were going to find you, because he was ramping up his activity. He was more violent, more attentive to you, watched you more, got closer, stayed closer. And he wasn’t feeding you. He had no intention of keeping you alive. But he was filming you. You’d noticed the hundreds of cameras all over the room, all pointing to you.
“What do you do for work?” he asked from the darkness of the top of the stairs.
“Paperwork,” you lied. “FBI paperwork.”
“You work for the Federal Bureau of Investigations?” he asked.
You nodded. “It’s boring.”
“How much do you make?”
“About 90 grand a year,” you offered. “What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m a baker,” he answered. “I work in the cafe on 14th street.”
“I like that place,” you chuckled painfully. “Makes good bread. My boyfriend loves it.”
“You have a boyfriend?” he asked.
“Yeah, but he’s out of state at the minute. Work stuff,” you lied. “What about you?”
“A girlfriend? No, no,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands together. It’s like he watched a movie to find out how to be a villain, I mean, come on. “No one for me.”
“What’s your boyfriend's name?” he asked.
Well, now or never. “Aaron Hotch,” you answered calmly.
“And what is it that you love about Aaron?”
You could feel yourself tearing up, you knew he was about to take you for another torture session, and you didn’t know if it would be your last. There was a slim chance Aaron would see this, if he ever caught the guy. Now or never. “I love Aaron because he makes me feel safe. He smiles at me all the time which is nice because he doesn’t smile often. He knows everything about me, and he’s still here. He’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met, even though he puts on a brave face everyday. He cares deeply about the people around him, and he tries to hide the way he worries about people, but he can’t. He just cares too much. He’s wonderful, if I’m being honest. He always brings me home stuff from your bakery, the one on 14 the street, it’s our favourite date night tradition.”
“Good, very good. I know exactly who you’re talking about,” he smirked. “I’ll make sure he gets this, and the videos of the torture.”
You grimaced.
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“He takes women of all races, hair colours, eye colour, etc. He doesn’t keep them for more than three days, he videos the torture and sends it to us. He’s had three women so far-” Morgan thought out loud.
“A new video just came in Hotch,” Penelope burst into the room, tears in her eyes. “I-It’s-”
“No!” Morgan and Spencer both jumped up, disbelief coating their features. Aaron stayed still, a wash of rage and terror rolling over him. You’d been gone for two days, they had one more to find you.
“Give me the laptop, the rest of you don’t need to see this,” he ordered, taking the laptop out of her hands as she ran straight to Morgan for comfort. Rossi stopped him before he left.
“You sure you want to see this? We all know how you feel about her,” Rossi whispered, silently offering himself to watch the videos.
“I have to find her,” Aaron whispered, his voice breaking. “I need every angle I can get.”
Rossi nodded, allowing him on his way.
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You’d survived another day, but the broken bones and bruises were starting to ache more and more. He’d gone to work, and you had 8 hours to try and get out, but the cameras. You just hoped he’d gotten cocky and sent it to the FBI before you were dead. It was your only chance.
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“We have a lead,” Aaron announced, rushing to put his coat on. “The bakery, on 14th, that’s where he works.”
“Let’s move out people!” Morgan shouting, rallying the cops to follow the team.
The video of you, broken, bruised, and battered made him feel physically sick. The way you spoke about him made his heart burst, the way you gave him the message gave him hope. He could still find you.
The car ride felt long, too long; and getting the dick to confess felt too long too. Searching the building felt too long, and getting you into his arms felt too long.
But when he rounded a corner and went down a set of stairs, there you were. Right in front of him. Lying in a heap on the floor. He rushed to your side. “Please, please,” he begged. “Open your eyes for me baby,” he pleaded as he looked for a pulse, it was faint but there. “Ambulance, now!” he shouted up at the officers who were following him. “Come on, open your eyes for me,” he whispered.
Somehow his shaking and his words woke you up. You stared at him for a moment, confused and scared, and then it registered. He’d found you. The video had worked.
“Aaron,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his face. “You found me.”
He nodded, a relieved smile on his face. “I’ll always find you,” he promised. “And I’ll never let this happen again.”
“You saw the video?” you asked, pulling yourself into his arms.
“I saw the video sweetheart,” he nodded. “I know.”
“I love you,” you whispered as he hooked a hand under your legs and another under your back.
“I love you too, more than anything,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
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