slow is smooth, smooth is fast

ind. jack abbot of the pitt

[pittvet]

a highly selective, mutuals only writing blog for doctor jack abbot of the pitt. due to the content of the show, heavy and triggering themes will be explored in various depths, including including death, gore, medical procedures, ptsd. etc. written by dio, he/they, 25+. also found @enduresit

01. guidelines 02. inbox memes 03. in character.

exclusives: bydana (annie)

[fcrthestars]

Robby isn't sure he agreed to status updates; although, he might have agreed to just about anything at the end of that night if it meant people would shut up and leave him alone.

He keeps his gaze fixed on the baby, wondering for a moment if he should transfer her to the bassinet. While he probably should, she does need to get used to it, Robby can't make himself stand up again. It won't hurt to hold her a little longer.

Looking up, Robby exhales. "I don't know. I called CYF." He hadn't been able to stop thinking about the baby, all alone and unwanted.

"Apparently, pedes did end up admitting her. CYF couldn't find a placement because of the holiday and I don't think they were eager to accept the liability of a potentially sick baby." It wouldn't be the first time either of them saw something like it, administration of different services wanting the hospital to handle a case while hospital admins worried about their census, more so who would pay.

"She didn't have a name, Jack," Robby adds, mouth twisting.

[pittvet]

he ought to redirect the conversation to the reason he’d come and push, shouldn’t he? needle robby with the unending concern that he suspects robby despises being leveled his way. after all, doesn’t jack almost resent it himself at times, when the tables are turned? in any other circumstance, he’d do it now with a voice bordering on too gentle, keeping himself level and not bite onto any deflecting bait robby would hurl his way. he ought to do it now. adopt an even greater care as to not wake the sleeping baby he finds himself avoiding looking at in robby’s arms. ( would it be care to not wake her or deliberate avoidance of examining how the sight of her in robby’s arms dredges up old hurts that leave him near breathless every time robby inhales and that bundled infant edges higher in his line of sight? )

but these aren’t their normal circumstances. robby is home. he’s… safe. using a baby as a goddamn lifeline, but safe. and isn’t that really the most jack could ask for right now? he should be pleased that there is no immediate ledge to talk robby off of. that he hadn’t needed to break down the door, even if what he’d found has still rattled him to his core. there’s not much to say about it right now, the way that robby had left that shift. 

he lets the information that robby shares wash over him. tries and fails not to let his expression darken with the too familiar anger at the failings of children, youth, and families. he looks away from robby as he takes a deep inhale. measured exhale. one, two, three. 

“clean bill of health is easier to place,” jack says, meeting robby’s eyes once more. he’s distantly proud of the way his voice remains even, at the way that burning knot of anger unravels as swiftly as it had formed. “they would’ve found a place for her once everything came back negative.” 

his own mouth twists at what robby adds after. here he finds his gaze drawn downward, settling on the sleeping infant for the first time since being surprised at the door. without his realizing it, his fingers begin to twist the ring still worn on his hand. it hurts, deep within him, to consider that as he stares. he knows the story, of course. everyone in the emergency department knows it. how she was left in the bathroom in chairs. left with nothing, not even a name, by someone that he almost cruelly hopes it must have destroyed to leave her there. she’d been well cared for. she’ll be well cared for now. with robby. by robby.  

“so what’s your plan?” he wrenches his gaze back up to robby’s face, shifts so that his knee presses firmly against the other man’s. after a brief hesitation, he presses on quietly. “are you… how are you? with this and with everything from a few days ago?”

[cressidascowper]

#NECK #VEINS

[pittvet]

there’s the sudden increase in noise as the door opens, quieted once more as it thuds shut behind robby. he should’ve known better than to grab the portable ultrasound and drag it into an empty room. or hell, maybe robby had just noticed the goddamn bullets lodged in the fucking plate carrier as jack came in. he shouldn’t have trusted that robby was too distracted to notice him slink off. the man has a sixth sense for foolishness in his emergency department, and this… this is certainly foolish. hardly anything like the grazes he’d treated off the books before. 

he doesn’t turn to look at @sympatheticdominance, despite the hole jack can feel burning through the back of his head. instead, jack lifts hands that do not tremble up to start on the releases for his plate carrier. forces himself to take steady, deep breaths, despite the sharp flair of pain with each inhale, eyes closing against the way the room shifts at the edges. pointedly, he ignores the too loud slap of the badge against the scanner that is swiftly followed by the clack of keys. 

( he’s not starting a chart for you, jack lies to himself. robby is just catching up on charting in a quiet room. overstimulated from the constant noise. you know how it is. )

a quiet groan slips through clenched teeth as jack sets the ruined carrier on the foot of the bed. which of course seems to be the perfect opportunity for robby to sever the tense silence between them, an almost vicious reprimand leaving his lips,

“you can’t keep putting yourself through this shit and expect me to just sit back and watch.” 

something bursts from jack at the words. an ugly thing, twice removed from a laugh, high and frantic, fracturing at once into an agonized whine. he falls sits heavily on the edge of the bed, pushing himself backward just in time as his good leg collapses beneath him. hazel eyes seize upon the other man as he moves into line of sight. a quick, desperate shake of his head. i’m fine. i’m fine, robby. it’s fine. don’t do this to me. despite the silent pleas, robby’s hands are on him, dragging him further onto the bed. fuck. fuck, this is exactly what he never wanted. robby’s patient after all.

[pittvet]

literally always thinking about how in my canon with dana, jack once got suspended from ptmc for a while pending an investigation into a code hula hoop he responded to on dana's behalf

[pittvet]

okay but really... those of you that have voted this far and picked the scary options... why & how do i fix that impression? i promise i'm a loser

[pittvet]

is dio intimidating?

terrifying

little scary

neutral

generally nice

not at all intimidating

dio's button

Remaining time: 1 day 6 hours

[pittvet]

her hand settling between his shoulder blades as he leans so heavily against the hub provokes no reaction beyond a quiet, deep exhale. some exhausted but still vigilant — always vigilant — part of him has marked her approach in the same way he is always aware of every movement in the emergency department. something he still has not learned to shut off, even after all this time. his thumb ceases its digging path across the palm of his hand, head turning marginally to put tara’s face his peripheral vision as her hand slides easily along his back. up, down, up, down. he wonders if she is even aware that she’s doing it as she tilts her head back to look up at the board he’s been ignoring for the past few minutes. wonders, briefly, if @pinnedwings knows or senses something about him that he has yet to put his finger on. something that might explain the worried pinch to her expression.

“just… eighty minutes until reinforcements start to trickle in,” jack murmurs, knocking a half clenched fist against the countertop three times. it’s all he can afford at the moment, this just above a whisper that he sends her way. too many all but shouted commands during the night have left his throat sore. he lets his head drop forward again, eyes falling shut against the harsh fluorescents that have been worsening his headache for the past few hours. allows himself to focus on the fact her hand still glides along his aching back. up, down, up, down. he could almost fall asleep like this.

“walsh take your guy up to the OR?”

[pittvet]

there's about to be so much eagles on my mental jack playlist, thank you @fcrthestars

[pittvet]

i know it does not look like it... but i was semi productive last night. i got so many drafts partially done here.

[wesandresons]

ANDREW ‘POPE’ CODY IN EVERY EPISODE SEASON 2, EPISODE 3 Bleed for It

[stvampyr]

[TEXT: ABBOT] I could [TEXT: ABBOT] But that does sound like a sure way to make sure you stay awake [TEXT: ABBOT] Counterproductive, isn't it?

[pittvet]

[TEXT: MICHAEL ] So is texting me back, but you're doing that. [TEXT: MICHAEL ] Come over. Read me a case study. [TEXT: MICHAEL ] That with the bourbon will send me right off.

[feral-ballad]

Safia Elhillo, from Home Is Not a Country; “Boys”

[Text ID: “the ways i sometimes want both to be looked at / & to disappear”]

[walk-up-songs]

[one single bloodcurdling agonized scream] ok time to lock in

[stvampyr]

[TEXT: ABBOT] But you can't sleep, pretty sure those are some negative points. Takes away from the marvel of it all. [TEXT: ABBOT] I hear you, brother. [TEXT: ABBOT] Considering that you now have some time off now... [TEXT: ABBOT] As a friend, not a doctor, I'd say have a drink. Bourbon in a hot chocolate.

[pittvet]

[TEXT: MICHAEL] Drink alone is your advice? [TEXT: MICHAEL] I could make two... if you wanted to come over? [TEXT: MICHAEL] I'll make two anyway.

[pittvet]

he’s in the process of reattaching his prosthetic one final time, ignoring his hands shaking all the while, when the text from @broughtpeace comes through. jack knows what it’ll say even without glancing over at the phone screen on the arm rest of the staff room couch. it’ll be a check in to make sure he’d made it home, that he hadn’t stayed in the pitt after that hell they’d gone through, that he’d followed the same advice he’d given to the new kids about getting the hell out of dodge. she knows he hadn’t. jack would be willing to put money on that, his entire paycheck. she wouldn’t have texted otherwise.

he doesn’t answer the text. fishes his pen out of his scrubs instead, and hauls himself up from the couch to grab the sticky notes left in the staff lounge. scribbles a note for john — gone home. call if you need me to come back, jack — and leaves it tacked to the lid of john’s almost empty coffee. the younger attending won’t call him back in, not after seeing jack passed out on the couch, after john had taken the time to drop some frozen waffles in the toaster for him. jack knows that. he leaves it anyway and drags himself out the side for the employee parking.

the unanswered text burns a hole in his pocket. but it’s a short walk to his truck on the lowest deck, nearest handicapped spot. shorter work still to connect his phone to the truck and give dana a call. he figures she won’t be asleep again yet, would likely be waiting for his text back.

“i’m heading home now,” jack says as a greeting, forcing a smile onto his face in an effort to keep his voice light. “wasn’t working this whole time,” he adds quickly, hoping to smooth away the worry he can imagine clear as day that’d be on her face. “robby might be more cunning than i give him credit for. had drinks in the park with donnie and the others. had to park myself on the staff room couch for a bit after.”

[pittvet]

who wants an immediately post s1 starter actually