summary: sneaking around with Pope Cody was supposed to be fun, but when Smurf gets her claws back into him, you realise you'll always be second fiddle...part two of My Little Girl
content/warnings: angst, angst and more angst, treats of SA, smurf, baz
wc: 3k
notes: you all wanted angst sooooo....thank you @anaiswriterr for reminding me I wanted to get angsty with this
Smurf Cody wasn't an idiot. She saw how her eldest son changed when he started surfing with you. She had no opinion on you, another friend of her grandson, when you first started coming around. You were still young, baby-faced. She noticed that you weren't trying to get into J's pants like most of the girls he brought around the house. You didn't want to deal with his uncles either, you flinched at how loud Craig and Deran were. You were too busy with college. Smurf would roll her eyes when you would quietly urge J to reapply for college. Her precious boy didn't need college. None of her boys went to college, and they all turned out fine.
She didn't notice you until Pope started noticing you. In your defence, the two of you kept up the charade for a long time. Originally, Smurf thought it was another of Pope's infatuations. She never expected one of J's friends to be interested in her eldest son. But she saw how you softened. How the two of you would orbit each other like planets. And when she saw you sneaking out of Pope's bedroom the night after a party, she knew that you didn't just pass out after a party.
She doesn't like it.
"Aren't you lonely out in that place all by yourself?" Smurf asks Pope one day, stroking his hair as he moves around the kitchen.
He flinches under her touch.
"I like it. It's quiet. It's too noisy here," he says as he continues to make his sandwich.
He hates when she tries to get him to move back in. He likes his own space, especially when you're in it. He likes that you're just his. She hasn't destroyed you.
Smurf hums softly as she watches him, trying to get him to look at her. But he's too focused.
"I have a few jobs lined up and I really need your help, Andrew," she all but coos.
He nods as he cuts his sandwich, but he doesn't respond.
She's trying her hardest not to get frustrated with him. But she tightens her grip on the kitchen island. She takes a deep breath.
"Baz has been away a lot. Down in Mexico with Lucy. Poor Lena. No mom. She barely has a father," she continues. "I was thinking of having her stay over here a few nights. But I would need your help. It's the leasr you could do...after Cath."
Pope finally looks up at her. His face softens at the mention of his niece. Smurf is aware that his loyalty to Lena and his brothers is stronger than anything else. It used to be her...But after Catherine, well...
But Smurf knows she needs to remind him of where is loyalties lie. Not with some beach Barbie who'll get bored with him soon enough.
"I can pick her up from school today," he suggests.
That's how you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Pope's car outside of a school, waiting for his niece. You just finished your final exams in college, so now you have so much more free time.
You are aware of Lena. You feel sick to your stomach thinking about the poor girl. Her mother left her. You can't blame the woman for wanting to get away from the Cody family. But you don't know how anyone could leave their daughter.
You melt when you see Pope gather the young girl in his thick arms. She tells him about her day before he helps her into the car.
She goes immediately quiet when she sees you in the front seat. Who is this strange woman? Uncle Pope doesn't have friends.
"Should we go to the beach?" you suggest.
"Lena can't swim," Pope supplies as he starts driving back to Smurf's.
"Well, how about ice cream? And the playground?" you try smiling at Lena.
Lena's eyes flick to Pope and then back to you. She doesn't say anything, twisting her mouth up in thought.
"I think that sounds good," Pope says then.
Soon, bringing Lena to the beach after school becomes part of your routine. You still spend your Friday mornings surfing with Pope, you've added a few more days for just the two of you and the waves. He still waits for you at your job to make sure you get home safely. And more often than not, you're going back to his place, falling into bed together.
"You know I've graduated?" you tell Pope one morning, as you draw patterns on his freckled chest.
He hums in affirmation.
"You said after I graduated that we could go somewhere else," you remind him. "Far away from here. Just me and you. And the sea."
Pope nods, "I just worry about Lena."
"I know the poor girl. But she has her dad. You can't-"
Pope shakes his head, "Baz is barely a father. He is always going to see Lucy in Mexico. He doesn't even know Lena is there. The way he talks to her."
"You can't change that, baby. You can't change Baz. I wish Lena were in better circumstances...but what are we going to do? We can't put our lives on pause because-"
"She's just a kid," he snaps.
You frown. He's never snapped at you before.
"I know, Andrew. But she's not your responsibility."
Pope's face screws up and he simply gets out of bed. You watch as he dresses but you flinch when you hear the door slam. You and Pope have never fought. You immediately text him, saying that you're sorry. That you didn't mean it.
But an angry Pope is a stupid Pope. And Smurf is quick to sink her claws into him. When he walks in the door, red-faced and teary-eyed, she immediately wraps her arms around him. She strokes his auburn curls and soothes him.
"I know, baby. I know," she soothes.
And this is her in.
"I have a job for us, baby. Let me tell you about it," she tells him.
You look at your phone. You and Pope had plans to get dinner tonight in a new restaurant. You're sitting at the bar waiting for him. You've called him twice and texted him more times than you care to admit. But he hasn't even looked at the messages. Pope is never late, and you start to worry that something has happened to him. But J isn't answering his phone either. And you can't make it too obvious that you're looking for Pope. But you've been sitting, nursing a cocktail for over half an hour. Pope hasn't even texted to let you know why he's standing you up.
You give up after forty-five minutes. You expected to go home with Pope, so you took an Uber to the restaurant. A restaurant you decide you can never return to again. You're furious that you have to blow even more cash on a trip home. Pope will hear all about this.
You change out of the sexy little dress and lingerie you picked out specially for Pope. Granny panties and an old oversized T-shirt replace them. And you pass out in your bedroom after a good bout of crying. You never expected Pope to hurt you like this.
You jump awake in the middle of the night when you feel your bed shift. You look up to see Pope crawling into the bed beside you.
"I'm sorry," he breathes into your hair as he wraps himself around you.
"How did you get in here?" you whisper before realising that the man who stood you up is suddenly in your bed.
You shove him off you and slam the lights on.
"What the fuck, Pope?" you hiss. "You just ghosted me today."
Pope looks at you like a kicked puppy and you notice that he has a bruise under his eye.
"What happened?" you ask suddenly.
"I had a family emergency. I'm sorry," he lies.
You frown, "Emergency?"
You're not stupid. You know what the Cody's do for money. You know why Pope was in jail.
"Or a job?" you ask.
Pope frowns, "She has a few set up for the summer. And if I do them, baby, with my cut of the money we could go anywhere."
You look at him, stroking your thumb over the bruise on his face.
"You want to go now? You really wanna leave with me?" you ask, not sure about his sudden change of mind.
He nods, "We just need to wait a few more months. Okay? But I promise, we can go anywhere in the world. I'll have so much money you'll never have to work."
"We could go to Tahati...or South Africa...or Portugal," you breath, letting the excitement get the better of you.
You don't even care that he's stood you up. You don't care that he's managed to break into your apartment. You're just kissing him. Desperately. You pull him onto the bed, into you and just let him wash away the hurt with soft kisses and gentle rolls of his hips.
"I love you," Pope promises. "It's me and you. That's all I care about. You and me, above anything else. I promise, baby. I promise."
You look at him as you lay tangled in each other's arms.
"I don't trust her," you whisper. "Please don't let Smurf drag you back in to her spell. Just...Do the jobs and get out. Make sure Lena is okay and safe. But we can't...We can't do anymore than that. I'm sorry Baz is her father."
Pope kisses the top of your head.
"I..." he begins, but he stops. You won't love him if he tells you about what he did to Cath.
"Smurf made her go away. And I helped..." he whispers. "I have to help with Lena."
You take in his words. You accept them at face value, you don't probe any further.
"But Baz won't let you, baby," you whisper, stroking over his cheeks. You love his freckles. "You can't help people who don't want to be helped. And fuck I'd love to take Lena away, but we can't kidnap the kid. Baz thinks he knows what he's doing..."
"Baby, you can't sacrifice yourself for people who would walk over you to keep their shoes clean. Smurf is never gonna let you go. You just gotta...walk away. Please...for me?"
Pope kisses you hard.
"For you," he breathes.
The problem with Pope doing these jobs, is that he's busier and busier. He's being dragged back into his family. Your calls go unanswered more and more. Pope will kiss you softly before saying he can't go surfing today. He doesn't have time to go for lunch. He has to go fix something for Smurf...
But he always makes sure that he's there to bring you to and from work. Pope hates that you work in that skiving bar. He wishes you'd get a job anywhere else. But you tell him you're leaving in a few months, so there's no point in going somewhere else. Anyway, you don't argue with him about his job.
One evening, you go into work with a friend. You text Pope telling you got in safely and that you'll see him later. He immediately responds that he'll be there just after midnight to bring you home. But tonight is rough. A group of handsy men, coming down from LA, have made your job impossible.
"Hey!" you snap when one of them grabs at your ass. You swat his hand away but the group just laugh.
It's just you and your friend working tonight. The place is such a shithole it doesn't have any security so these men just get away with their behaviour until last call and they get out of there. You sigh, exhausted and pissed off from having to deal with the group for hours. You step outside, but frown when you don't see Pope's truck. You call him.
He's never late.
But his phone goes straight to voicemail.
You're going to have to call an Uber. Your friend has gone home already. You had told her to. You didn't even check if Pope was around. He always just was. And now he wasn't. You groan when you see it's a ten-minute wait for your Uber. You sit on the curb, knowing that if you go back inside your boss will get alerted that the alarm has been turned off and it'll be an issue. So you sit there looking down at your phone. You only look up when you hear footsteps approaching, hoping beyond hope that Pope is going to appear. But no...it's one of the guys from earlier. The handsy pricks.
"We're closed," you tell him immediately.
"Yea, I see that. And you're all by yourself," he says with a pout.
You stand up immediately, ready to fight. Ready to run.
"Your friend told me you have a big scary boyfriend. But he doesn't seem to be around. Does he?" he says as he takes a step forward. "Why don't you come with me and we can have some fun?"
You take a step away. This is not happening. He's so much bigger than you. There's no way you can fight him off. But the parking lot is illuminated as your Uber finally arrives. You race into it, all but collapsing inside it. You don't even flinch when you give them Smurf's address.
You're on an adrenaline high. And you're ready to fight. The gate is closed but that doesn't deter you. You climb it, fuelled by rage. You walk in to the kitchen when Smurf is whispering with Baz.
"Where is he?" you snap, causing Baz to jump.
"J's in his room, sweetheart. It's late. Did you have plans?" Smurf coos.
But you can see from the smirk on her lips that she is aware of who you're really asking for.
"Where's Pope?" you bark, tears pricking in your eyes.
"Pope?" Baz asks in pure confusion.
Smurf nods towards the garage. You storm down the hall and push yourself into the room. You come face to face with Pope and Deran counting out wads of money.
"Shit what are you doing here?" Deran asks as he tries to hide the money.
"Yea. What am I doing here?" you hiss at Pope. "Not thanks to you. Almost got fucking...almost got..."
You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to think about what would happen if your Uber hadn't arrived. Now your eyes are closed the tears that have been threatening to fall have no choice but to roll down your cheeks.
"You promised me that it was you and me. That's it. That's all you needed," you yell. "You promised...You let Smurf get her claws into you. You let her change us. You promised, Pope!"
Pope shakes his head, his eyes swimming with his own tears. He's never wanted to make you cry. He thought he was doing right by you.
"You told me that you wouldn't let this happen. You wouldn't let her poison you again. I loved you. I thought that was enough. I thought I was enough. But you're a fuckin' disappointment. And nothing anyone does will ever change that or you or her. You're stuck here, forever," you scream.
"And I hope you're happy."
Pope is standing stock still, tears threatening to spill, his hands balled into fists. And he just keeps repeating, "No, no, no, no, no, no."
You turn and come face to face with Smurf.
"I think it's time you go," she snarls, gripping your arm. "And don't come back. You're not welcome here."
That's not an issue. You have no intention of seeing Pope Cody or J Cody or any other Cody again. You don't have the money to go to all the places you and Pope had planned. But you have to get out of Oceanside. Anywhere. And you find a job not long after the last time you see Pope. You find an apartment, it's not much, but it's something. And it's not too far from the beach...
You can still surf.
You can get your life back on track. Pope Cody was just a detour. A funny story you can tell in a few years. Your fling with the criminal.
That's what you think until you hold the tiny piece of plastic in your hands, watching as two thick lines appear, leaving no room for mistake.
a/n: thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! any and all feedback appreciated
“My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand. Taking mine, but it’s been promised to another. I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland. My house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”
Michael Robinavitch and Jack Abbot have always been something impossible to define. You’re a nurse who has become one of the only comforts and constants in their lives, watching them orbit around something neither of them has ever been brave enough to name. When those boundaries begin to blur, the three of you have to decide what happens when the thing you’ve been avoiding is maybe also the thing you need most.
5. Easy For You To Say
“Last night I lied, I looked you in the eyes. I’m scared to find a piece of peace of mind. I swear to you each and every time I’ll try to change my ways.”
You can find the masterlist to this ongoing series here.
This is canon divergent set between season 1 and 2, aspects will be kept and referenced, but this is largely set in a fictitious season 1.5 or so. Keep that in mind if you notice differences!
If you see a typo, no you don’t. Please pretend it’s not there, I’m not going back to find and fix it. Your girl is too tired.
Comment or message me if you want to join the taglist :)
Summary: Jack is so close to having you back in his arms, but is luck ever on his side?
I really want this all to be a surprise so i'm not writing a proper summary!! But its a happy ending <3
Word count: 5.8k
Notes: i'm blown away by how much engagement the fic had!! thank you so so much it means the world to me! I stayed up late and woke up early to write this. Not very well proof read.
“Bug’s asking for you, mumbling something about a wishing tree.”
“Robby what are you saying?” Luck was never on Jack’s side, so to think he got this lucky? He refuses to believe it.
“I’m saying you need get to the ICU right this second.”
“Are you sure-“
“Abbot. It’s her. It’s been confirmed.” Jack is about to get his happy ending after all.
Jack ran down the stairs to the ICU, ignoring the stabbing pain in his leg because pain did not matter anymore. Knowing that you are here, alive, with him, is all that mattered. He held onto that flicker of hope in his heart like a lifeline.
He doesn’t catch his breath as he charges into the ICU but he’s met with at least four security guards. “It’s best if you leave”, the guard says.
“I need to see her!”
“One more step and you’ll get arrested.”
“There’s been a mistake!” He begs, “that’s not Meg that’s the love of my life in there, I need to see her!”
“Dr Abbot” one of the ICU nurses steps out behind the guards. “The family has put in a request for you to be nowhere near her.”
“No” Jack is so close to having you in his arms, “no, they can’t do that! There’s been a mistake!”
“Dr Abbot don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. You’re not next of kin and you have no right.”
“What did she say! She- she asked for me! She wants me!”
“She’s been put back to sleep." The nurse can see the hurt in his eyes, but there is nothing she can do. She takes a few steps toward him and whispers, “She was confused and agitated so she’s being moved home; the family arranged for home care. I’d suggest keeping the peace and leaving right this second.”
"Please can I just see her one last time." Jack doesn't care that he's crying and pleading in front of the entire unit.
"I'm sorry."
Maybe Jack wasn’t so lucky after all.
The plan
“Abbot where the hell have you been!” Robby, along with the team were waiting anxiously after Jack not picked up anyone’s call after going to the ICU.
“Clearing my head.” Coming up with a plan. “They wouldn’t let me see her. The bastards are moving her!”
“I know, I called Sharon at ICU; they said you lost your shit!”
“At Meg I did! And now they’re saying it’s not Meg. What the hell, Robby!”
“Let’s all talk in the family room”
“I’m going back to the ICU, I’m breaking her out of there.”
Jack does not wait any longer until he sees you. His emotions are all over the place; was he happy? excited? sad? He is confused. Jack is a confused man, but one who is madly in love.
“Family Room. Now!” Robby’s yells were loud enough for everyone to stop what they were doing and look over at the two men. One was angry, and the other was crying.
In the family room, gathered Jack, Robby, Trinity and Parker.
Jack paced around the room, limping with every step, but the pain in his heart was much worse.
“The family is threatening to sue the hospital because of the error the lab did.” Robby states. “So she’s being moved to home care at their manor.”
“The hell they are!”
“Dr Abbot, calm the hell down right this second.” Trinity cuts in firmly, and Jack immediately stops pacing. “We came up with a plan.”
“What’s this plan then?”
“Sharon is the charge nurse upstairs, said that she was incredibly agitated and yelling, so they’ve put her back to sleep. Once she's awake again, they need to do their checks and clear her for discharge.” Robby says calmly, “If the accident has not affected her capacity, then she can legally consent to do whatever she wants.”
“There’s a but coming” Jack’s patience has run out, ages ago.
“But they are threatening to sue the hospital, so they might have to let her go, whether she likes it or not.”
“No! Absolutely the fuck n-“
“Jack, I swear to God if you don’t calm down right this second we’re gonna have an issue.” Robby cuts in firmly. “The funeral is in three days. So we’re hoping that in three days’ time, she’s going to be awake, with capacity to make her own decision. At home as per her parents’ wishes.”
“Why three days?”
“Because that’s when we’re gonna break her out,” Parker adds.
Jack refuses to feel any more flickers of hope until you’re with him. “How do you plan on doing that? The manor has locked gates; there will be nurses and carers. Plus the family.”
“The family’s all gonna be at the funeral. That’s when we go in.”
“Again, how?”
“It’s a good thing we’re all doctors. One thing the nurses won’t question is a home visit.”
Another flicker of hope that Jack ignores. “I’m going with you.”
“Oh boy, he’s not gonna like this,” Santos mutters under her breath, and Jack shoots her a look. “You’re going to the funeral.”
“Why the hell would I do that for?”
“The family isn’t stupid, Jack. Your picture is probably plastered all over the manor with a warning label. So while you're at the funeral, acting sad, we'll be at the manor."
“You guys would do this for us?” Jack’s tears haven’t stopped since leaving the ICU. He looks more broken than when he thought you were dead.
“I’d do anything for you, brother.”
“Even kidnapping?” Jack asks.
“Not kidnapping if she consents to it.” Parker adds with a big smile. “Let’s get planning!”
Home care - day one
“Can you eat something, please?” Your mom asks you, holding a plate of mashed-up food.
“I want Jack” you mutter weakly.
“Eat and then maybe we’ll call him.”
“I want Jack” you repeat. “I want to speak to him.”
"He's at work, we'll call him later this evening?"
“I want Jack, I want Jack, I want Jack, I want Jack" you repeat to yourself. She leaves the room, leaving you dealing with a broken heart. If only you were able to move, you’d run to him.
Hours later, she returns and asks the nurses, “How has she been?”
“She’s refusing meds and food. She keeps asking for Jack.”
“She won’t be speaking to that man ever again. Administer the sedating meds.”
“But-“
“Give the meds or I swear you’ll never practice nursing again.”
“Yes ma’am.” The nurse stutters.
Another few hours pass, another check in.
“Hey sweetheart, you’re awake.”
“Screw you” you spit out “Let me out of here.”
“You can’t move baby. Where will you go?”
“Back to Jack! Let me out, let me out, let me out!” you scream at her until your throat burns and your voice breaks.
“How about we give you some more meds, hmm?”
“No, no more meds no more meds!” You yell at the nurse, “I have capacity and I’m saying no!”
The nurse mutters a sorry as she approaches you. If only you had the energy to fight her.
You repeat Jack’s name quitely to yourself as you fall back to sleep.
Home care - day two
“Shall we try and eat something today?” Your mom sat by your bed with yet another plate of mashed-up food.
“I want Jack. I keep telling you I want Jack,” you cry quietly.
“I promise we’ll give him a call, only if you eat something.”
“And I’m telling you, I want him and only him.”
“She said some hurtful things to you when you were in the ICU.” She says softly, “he was almost arrested-“
“No” you cut in.
“He yelled at you, baby”
“I’m not your baby!” How dare she.
“The hospital said he was aggressive-”
“No no no no no-
“- He blames you for Megan’s death.” She lies.
“no no- what?” Jack, your Jack, would never blame you. Your heart refuses to believe it, despite her hurtful words.
“He lost the love of his life, who do you think he was going to blame?”
“You’re lying! He wouldn’t do that!”
“The entire hospital knows. You were driving, after all.”
“You’re lying! I want to speak to him, Mom, please!”
“Your sister is dead, and all you care about is that piece of shit-“
“Fuck you! Fuck all of you for what you did to him!” Your heart thumped in your chest so aggressively, you could hear the machine near your bed blare across the room. You knew the next step would be administering meds against your wishes. If only you had the energy to strangle her right this second.
“We’ll try food in a few hours. Meds please.” Your mom says calmly before leaving the room.
“Please, I’m begging you, no.” Your arm reaches slowly over to the nurse's hand. “Please, I have capacity, and I am telling you no.”
“She threatened me....”
“I promise i’ll pretend to sleep. But please no more meds.”
“I-I can’t i’m sorry.”
“No please, I beg you” you cry out, “please, I’ll be good. I promise you please, i'll behave”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” You say calmly.
Maybe acting like a good girl would get you reunited with Jack.
Home care - day three
“Hey sweetheart, we’re going to the funeral.”
“Okay mom.” You thought to yourself, have fun, you bitch. But being the good girl you are, you opted for, “i’ll be thinking of you all today.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” She says softly, one hand resting on your bruised-up and bandaged cheeks. “I’ll light a candle for her, from you.”
“That would be lovely.” You hoped they would all burn in hell. “When will you be back?”
“Later this evening baby.” She presses a soft kiss to your head that makes your stomach turn. “Lucy here will take care of you.”
You force a small, sad smile. “Say hi to grandad for me.”
The moment she leaves the room, you beg Lucy, the nurse, to give you her phone so you can make a phone call. You don't tell her it's Jack you are calling. After so much crying and begging, she eventually agrees. She dials the number for you and puts it on loudspeaker, but Jack’s phone is switched off.
“Try again, please.” You’re so close to hearing his voice. So close.
“Off.”
“Please again.”
She tries again, and again, and again, but his phone is switched off.
You wonder if Jack indeed hates you after what you did to Meg.
The Funeral
Jack opted for a seat at the back of the church, nowhere near the family. Robby insisted that he should act sad and heartbroken, which Jack felt but not for Meg’s death.
It had been almost 72 hours of pure hell and evil. Knowing that you are alive, after he had lost you for days and not been able to reach you, was the most evil type of torture.
He said a prayer, not for Meg or anyone else to find peace after what they had gone through. But for Robby’s plan to work. If it works, Jack will be coming home to you this evening. Because if it works, then Jack is never letting you out of his reach ever again.
Maybe he should now hold onto that flicker of hope that lingered in his chest.
The Escape
Robby parked up outside the manor entrance with Trinity in the car. “Have you said a prayer?”
“Me? Robinavitch? No I didn’t.”
“We need faith on our side, kid.”
“You have me and my brilliant mind.” She chuckles, “Let’s go, Dr Robinson.”
They get out of the car and ring the bell, and are greeted by one of the housekeepers.
“Good morning.” Robby smiles, “I’m Dr Robinson, and this is my assistant, Dr Smith. We’re here for a home visit.”
“I’m not expecting you…”
“Oh, have they not told you?” Robby frowns. “It’s protocol for us to come visit 72 hours after discharge.”
“I’m gonna need to check with the family…” She doesn’t let them in and asks them to wait outside.
“We’re screwed,” Robby mutters.
“Have some faith. Robinavitch. Who’s going to answer their phone at a funeral?”
Minutes pass, and with every clock tick, Robby was sweating more and more. The door opens, and he stiffens. “They’re not answering.”
“It’s Megan’s funeral today, isn’t it?” Santos says softly, “What a sad, sad day. It’d be a shame if the other twin doesn’t get checked and something happens to her…”
The housekeeper freezes for a second, thinking about it. “You have 10 minutes.”
“Sure, we’ll be as quick as we can.” Trinity pushes past her and wastes no time. She takes them to a room located on the ground floor, luckily not too far from the entrance. She goes inside first, and informs you that there are two doctors here to speak with you.
"Tell them no." You blurt out, if it's not a name you know then there's no chance on earth they're coming anywhere near you, "No more doctors. I only care about one person."
The housekeeper informs them that you're refusing any more medical treatment.
"No problem", Trinity replies, and Robby shoots her a confused look.
You can hear mumbling outside and chatter, but what caught your attention was one of the doctors mentioning bringing you the wishing tree book you asked for. There is no book labelled The Wishing Tree. The housekeeper walks back, and you instantly blurt out, "Let them in. I changed my mind."
The moment you saw Robby step into that room, accompanied by one happy Trinity Santos, was the moment you could finally breathe. You thought your heart was about to give out at how happily it beat. You remained composed as they introduced themselves with alias names, and you let Robby carry out his fake checks.
"Hey, Lucy?" You turn over to her with a soft smile. "I feel like having some food. Do you think you can make me some of Mom's famous mashed-up food?"
"Sure. I won't be long."
You wait until the door clicks shut behind her, and you burst into tears. Robby takes you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you thought he was going to shatter your already broken bones.
"Robby-" you choke out, "Robby is Jack with you!"
"No, sweetheart, he isn't. He's at the funeral. Listen, we don't have time, we're here to-"
"Kidnap you!" Trinity claps her hands. "We're here to kidnap you! Is that okay!"
"Yes yes, please!!" you try and shift on the bed but your bandages and broken bones don't allow it. "But how?"
"We need a distraction." Robby says, "Something to occupy them while we take you to the car."
"Start a fire." You say quickly, "start a fucking fire."
For all the pain they caused you, a fire is nothing compared to what they deserve. Burn this entire manor down, along with everyone in it. A small part of you wonders if the universe would be upset with you over how angry you are at them. But what they have done to you was much worse.
"A-a fire?" Robby stutters.
"Fuck yeah!" Trinity adds, "kitchen?"
"Trin, how do you feel about microwaving a spoon?"
"Physics was never my strong point anyway." She blows you a kiss before running to the kitchen.
The reunion
"This is gonna hurt so much, I'm sorry.." Robby whispers as he carries you into the wheelchair. But your physical pain was nothing compared to the pain in your heart.
"Robby I called Jack so many times and... mom said he hates me."
"No offence kid, but your mom is a bitch and a liar."
You didn't think you were going to laugh this soon after going through so much trauma, but you found yourself hysterically laughing and crying.
"I owe you my life."
"You owe me nothing kid. Jack can't wait to see you."
And that's when you finally let yourself hold onto that small flicker of hope. Seeing Jack and finally telling him how you feel. Because if facing death taught you one thing, it's to never take advantage of time. Time is precious, and you have lost enough of it without being with the man you love so much.
The escape plan worked, thanks to Trinity skipping physics class, and just as you drove away, you saw the fire brigade drive in the opposite direction. They drove you back to your apartment, and with every minute that passed, the excitement in your chest grew bigger and bigger. They wheeled you into the lounge, which was now changed. A hospital bed sat in the middle of the room, alongside monitors and equipment laid out neatly around it.
You are greeted by one happy very happy Parker and Mateo. "Oh my God!"
"You still need home care, kid." Robby says softly. "We're all taking turns to help."
"You guys... I don't know what to say."
"Save your words until Abbot gets here." Parker chuckles, slipping her arms under your back, while Robby takes your legs to move you to the bed. "He'll be here any minute."
"He's not here yet?" You have no more patience left.
"He was at the wake when we left but he should be here any minute. Told him not to drive fast."
"We don't want any more car accidents." Trinity jokes and for a second, no one laughs at the joke. Until you start hysterically laughing again and they all join in.
The front door burst wide open, and one very anxious Jack stood by the entrance.
That flicker of hope he was scared to hold onto? It burst in his chest like a firework. But now that he's here, standing in front of you, he chokes up on his words and freezes.
"Let's leave you two for a minute." Robby says quietly, ushering for everyone to leave the apartment.
"Is he gonna move or..." Trinity adds sarcastically but Robby holds onto her arm and drags her out.
"Hey, bunny." You say softly, "I'm back from the dead."
"Not funny..." Jack takes a small step toward you. He's too scared to move any faster, in case this was all a dream. Because if it is, he wants it to last as long as possible. "Hi, Bug."
"Your wish worked."
"I should have never doubted it." Jack blurts out before running over to the bed and taking you into his arms. "I never should have doubted that stupid tree."
The feeling of his warm and strong body against yours was everything you had ever wished for, the last 72 hours more than any other days.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry about everything." Jack murmurs, his voice shaky and broken, "i'm sorry for not doing more and for no-"
"Jack, shut up," you push him off you gently, "just shut up and-"
His lips crash on top of yours before you even get the chance to finish your sentence. You felt his desperation in the way he kissed you -- like a man who had been starved of love. His hands never moved away from your face, holding it tightly as if you were about to disappear again.
When he finally pulled back for a breath, his eyes were glossy and tired, like he hadn't stopped crying.
Jack hasn't stopped crying, and he doesn't think he ever will.
"I'm here, it's me," you blurt out.
Jack nods shakily before pressing his lips against yours again, a bit more gently this time. He takes in every touch and feeling, holding onto it as much as possible. He pulls back just slightly this time, leaving his lips just inches away. "I have so much to tell you."
"And we have all the time in the world," you mumble, one bandaged hand gently resting on his cheek.
"But first we have to do something.." Jack rasps out, "we have to call your parents."
The aftermath
Everyone was now back in the apartment, Jack sitting on a stool next to your bed, both hands holding yours.
"So now that you've been 'kidnapped'..." Robby attempts to air-quote, and Trinity snorts out loud, "The police will be informed."
"And they might be coming here." Jack adds, "But.. if we call your parents then that will save everyone the trouble."
"Call them." You say quickly, gesturing for someone to give you a phone. "Call the fuckers I have things to say."
Years of being treated terribly by them, being the spare child, the forgotten child, the mistreated child... it all came out the moment your mom picked up the phone. You don't even let her speak. She can't hurt you now; actually, no one can. Because as long as you're in this room, with Jack, then no one can.
"Shut up and let me talk." You interrupt her, yelling, "I never ever want to see you again. I never want to hear your voice or dad's. Do you understand what i'm saying?"
She continues yelling, but you cut in once more, "Congratulations, Mom. You lost both of your daughters. Enjoy living in guilt for the rest of your lonely and miserable life."
And with that you hang up the phone, closing a chapter of your life you never want to see again.
Loving you
"Do you want to go to sleep? Or stay up and watch a movie?" Jack's lying next to you on the hospital bed in your apartment, one hand draped over your stomach. He hasn't left your side since everyone left the apartment.
"I don't want to go to sleep... I've had enough of that, Jack. But I do want one thing."
"Anything" Jack murmurs, "I'd do anything for you."
"Please, can you move me to my bed? I've had enough of hospital beds and-"
"You don't need to explain yourself to me." Jack shifts on the bed, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Anything you need."
"Oh, and one more thing." You turn your head to face him, "I need you to never leave me, Jack."
Jack smiles softly, whispering against your lips, "I promise to never leave your side. I promise to always be there for you. And I promise you one more thing... you might think i'm crazy..."
"We're all a little bit crazy.."
"I love you, bug. I’m sorry it took me so long to realise it. I’m sorry it took losing you for me to finally understand what’s been in my heart this whole time. And I’m crazy for saying this now and here and somewhere more romantic but..”
“I love you too Jack,” you whisper back, not taking your eyes off him for a minute. You take in all his features, and that sparkle in his eyes that was lost? It was back. Your Jack was back.
"I'm proud of you for fighting to stay here, especially with me."
"When they told me that I was allowed to see you... I don't ever want to go through that again."
"And you never will have to. Because as long as I'm here, you are too."
"There's no breaking us now."
"Exactly, Bug. Exactly."
The wishing tree once again did not fail you.
Three months later
You woke up to the sound of music, playing from the kitchen, and you could’ve sworn Jack was singing. You move slowly out of bed, joints still protesting movements, and bones still recovering from the fractures, and eventually stand up on your own. Slowly and carefully, you make it over to the kitchen and stand silently watching Jack sing to himself as he made breakfast. He has joggers on with no T-shirt, and a kitchen towel draped over one shoulder. What a beautiful sight to wake up to, you thought. He looks happy, matching that same feeling you’ve had in your chest these past few months.
“Morning sunshine.” You say, startling Jack mid dance move.
His face lights up the moment he sees you, a big smile breaking across his face. “Morning, my love. Sorry, was the music too loud?”
“Never.” If facing death taught you another thing, is that happiness can never be too loud. “Need a hand?”
Jack smirks as he approaches you, eyes scanning you from head to toe. Without a warning, he picks you up with both hands and walks you over to the counter. “You can sit and supervise.”
“But-“
“No buts, sweetheart, no buts.”
“But I wanted to dance…”
“We are going dancing. Later tonight, actually.” Jack had a date planned for the two of you, but he refused to spoil any details, despite your begging.
“You still won’t tell me where we’re going!”
“It’s called a surprise.”
“I love surprises…”
“You’re terrible at waiting for them though. No questions!”
“But-“ His lips find yours, a quick and efficient way of keeping you quiet. It worked; it always worked. Every day, his touch doesn’t fail to amaze you. You haven’t felt love like this before, or have known love to be this electric or exciting. “I’m gonna keep asking.”
“And I’m gonna keep kissing.”
“Exactly” you giggle, “more protesting means more kissing.”
“Sneaky.” He murmurs.
“I’d say clever.”
“That you are, baby. Hungry?”
“Is that a euphemism?” You tease.
“I meant food, but I have all day so…” his kiss is hungry, and certainly not for food.
Later that day, as promised, Jack was going to take you dancing. But first, he doesn’t let you leave the house because he can’t keep his hands to himself.
“Jack stop” you giggle as you push him off, “can you help me with shoes please?”
“I’ll get down there, sure.” He smirks, moving away from your neck slowly, which is red and wet from the way he had devoured it like a dessert.
“Not like that!”
“We have time…”
“You’ve been satisfied plenty.”
He moves back to your neck, whispers slowly against your skin, “but I can’t get enough.”
“Jack we’re gonna miss the reservation!”
“Fine, but I’m picking up where we left off when we come home tonight.” He kisses your neck once more, before finally moving to help you out shoes on, “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“I don’t think you did…” you tease him.
He’s down on one knee, slipping your shoes on, he murmurs “you are what dreams are made of..”
You giggle, “you look like you’re about to propose.”
“What?” Jack looks up at you, colour draining from his face immediately. Like he had seen a ghost.
An awkward pause, then Jack shifts his attention back to the shoes, and you frown at his reaction. “It’s a joke, Jack…” you mutter under your breath.
The car ride to the secret date location was painfully quiet, and despite your pestering about what was wrong with him, he insisted he was fine. Maybe joking about getting married, this close to what he had gone through, was not the best idea.
He pulled up outside a small house, not a restaurant like you expected, and you sat in the car for a minute.
Another awkward stretch of silence follows.
"Shall we get out of the car or....?"
"Uh- yeah sure." Jack clears his throat before unclipping the seat belt and getting out of the car. You watch him as he puffs his cheeks out and shakes his head as he walks around the car to your side.
Yeah, mentioning marriage was definitely not a clever idea.
He carefully helps you out of the car and walks you over to the door. "Whose is this?" You ask him.
"It's uh... let's take a look inside. Then you can tell me what you think."
He pulls out keys from his pocket and walks in first, flicking the light switch on.
"This is beautiful." The house is the complete opposite of the manor. "Jack, did you-"
"Yeah, I did. I got it for us." Jack says nervously. "It's small but I figured.. a smaller house is much nicer than a manor."
"Oh Jack..." Your hands hover over your mouth in surprise at how simple and cosy the house felt. You're speechless at how well he had pulled this off. And absolutely blown away by how much love he has for you. "Does it have a garden?"
"A beautiful one, actually." He pulls out an eye mask from his pocket. "Let's see the garden first, then we'll go upstairs."
He gestures for you to turn around so he can put the eye mask on.
“Are you kidnapping me again?”
“Been there done that. And I’d do it all again if I have to.”
"Do I have to put it on?"
"It's part of the surprise." He stands behind you, carefully helping you put it on. His hands wrap around your waist, puling you flush against him. He trails kisses down your neck and shoulder, his beard stubble tickling your bare skin, sending an electrifying shiver down your spine.
You melt at his touch, at the way he always takes his time kissing your neck. How he doesn't suck too hard, but enough for you to moan something in response. "Ready, bug?"
"Always," you whisper weakly, still recovering from his kisses.
He guides you somewhere slowly, telling you to be careful of steps and turns until you're standing still. As he takes the blindfold off, the violin starts playing.
You are standing under a big tree, with the grounds covered in candles and white roses, and fairy lights hanging down from the tree and all around the house. A man sits on a chair, playing Can’t Help Calling in Love with You. “Oh my God” you whisper. “You’re-“
“Please just this once.. let me do the talking?” Jack whispers back.
He takes his hands in yours, and softly says, “My whole life I’ve searched for what it means to be loved, and be in love. It has taken me a very long time — a lot of grey hairs in fact, and so many tears to find it. But I’m so happy I finally did.”
“My love for you grows with every beat of my heart and every second that passes. I’m crazy about you, but I’m also crazy in general." He jokes, and you nervously giggle in response. "I love you with every fibre of my being."
“I promise to love you every day for the rest of my earthly life, and for whatever comes after. I promise to never leave your side, and to always worship the ground you walk on. Because you deserve it, bug. You deserve all the happiness and love in the world, if you let me show you. I promise to find you in every lifetime, and love you more and more each time.
He carefully gets down on one knee, "Please make me the happiest man in this universe and marry me?"
A screech escapes you, and you immediately drop down to your knees, "Yes, Jack, yes yes yes!!"
6 months later
Jack's sitting on the kitchen barstool, holding onto a piece of paper from his doctor that he never thought he'd see. A life-changing result. He hears you approach and quickly tucks it into his scrub pocket, deciding he will tell you about it after your shift tonight.
"Ready to go Dr Abbot?" he asks you.
"Still not used to the name," you giggle. "But i'm so happy I never have to use my own name again."
"I'm happy you're happy." Jack murmurs, "That's all I ever wanted."
"And that's all you'll ever get."
He holds onto that promise, along with a small flicker of hope he hadn't felt since your accident.
Hours later at PTMC, you start to feel unwell. It could have been the long hours, or the long recovery from your accident, or a million other things, but you brush it off and carry on with the night. Until you're in the room with a patient, mumbling gibberish at them, gripping onto their bedside to stop you from falling to the ground. The patient, who lucky was mobile, manages to get hold of you before falling to the ground and yells for help.
The moment Jack sees you slumped over, he's convinced he's about to lose you again.
"Hey Dr Abbot?" Parker asks you the moment you're laid onto a bed in one of the rooms, "wanna tell me what's going on?"
"The... world is spinning Parker." you whisper, "I feel so sick."
Jack's in shock, standing in the corner of the room watching Parker do the assessment. He has been down this road before, and he literally lost you and had you again. He's convinced someone's gonna come through the doors and steal you away.
"When did it start?"
"Dunno... keeps coming and going." you sob at how ill you feel, "J-jack?"
"He's in shock; give him a minute." Parker forces a smile; Mateo's on the other side, taking your bloods. "Any other symptoms?"
"I feel sick, like i'm about to vomit."
"How long for?"
"Again comes and goes...Please, can you just check on Jack"
Parker doesn't ask about pregnancy, given that everyone's aware of Jack's history with infertility. Instead, she says, "Dr Abbot, wanna hold your wife's hand?" Jack doesn't respond. Instead, he's seeing flashbacks of you in the ICU bed. He's back in that room, and this time, people are yelling at him instead of him yelling at the body on the bed. What was real and what was not? Are you really here? Is someone about to kidnap you? Is this all a dream? "Guess not."
"Jack please-" you cry out for him but he still doesn't move.
Parker abruptly stops what she's doing and walks over to him. Without a word, she slaps him, loud enough for it to make a noise that echoes, hard enough to wake him out of his flashback.
"S-sorry" Jack blinks a few times, looking around the room, "did- uh- did- shit."
"Hold her hand now. Otherwise i'm slapping you again."
He nods shakily and walks over to your side, "sorry baby just uh- it's um."
"I know Jack, but we're here. I'm safe and no one can get to us now."
He manages a nod, takes your hand in his hands, resting it just in front of his chin, kissing it gently.
"Stats are fine, BP a bit low but it could be for many reasons. Let's wait for bloods. In the meantime, stay here."
"Uh, Parker, what about pregnancy?" Jack asks.
You look at Parker in surprise, matching her same exact reaction. "I didn't ask because you know..."
"Jack, I'm not Meg - I would never-!" Your eyes are immediately tearing up; he thinks you'd cheat on him? "I promise you I would never cheat-"
Jack cuts in, "it's me."
You immediately pull your hand away from him, eyes glancing over to Parker, who has the look of rage on her face, "You fucking cheated?!!?"
"What! No-no I didn't! The pregnancy I uh-" Jack reaches into his scrub pocket and pulls out the piece of paper. "This came in the mail this morning."
Parker snatches it out of his hand, saving you the heartbreak of whatever is in the piece of paper. She reads through it quickly, then smirks, "Oh damn. Dr Abbot is one happy and healthy man."
"Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on right this second!!" you snap at them.
"Girl I think you're pregnant." Parker chuckles.
"Again I did not cheat-"
"It's Jack. His sperm count is in the millions."
"What...?"
Jack nervously chuckles, "I uh... saw my doctor last week. I wanted to retest... just to be sure. It turns out all I needed was to be happy for the little guys to get to work... "
"I'm pregnant?" you ask both of them in rage, "get me a fucking machine right now!"
"Oh I don't need to scan you, the pregnancy rage is all over your face, girl."
"Dr Ellis I swear-" you start to yell, then stop. Oh fuck. That explains the mood swings. The nausea. Why eggs tasted like snot all of a sudden.
A few minutes later, Parker's scanning your lower abdomen, Jack watching your face instead of the screen, admiring the woman he loves so much.
"Jack" you whisper, lips parting slightly in surprise at the little blob on the screen, "Jack, look!"
"It's a tiny baby" he chokes out after finally looking at the screen, "it's our baby."
Summary: Your twin sister, the person you should be the closest with out of everyone you know, is the person you avoid the most. Despite you both looking the exact same, you were the complete opposite. One night, at your joint birthday dinner, she meets everyone you work with, including Jack Abbot. The same Jack who’s your closest friend, who you are in love with, the same Jack who doesn’t know you love him, and the same Jack who falls in love with her. You thought of why he loves her. What was so special about her? Because you worked with Jack every night. And both of their personalities couldn’t be more opposite. You know it’s not right to be jealous of her, of them even. But you do anyway. On their wedding morning, Jack finds a positive pregnancy test. The wedding doesn’t go ahead because Jack won’t marry a cheater.
And one day, your sister takes you out for a coffee to make amends, have a rant or God knows why. Abbot then receives a call to say the twins are in the ER. One is dead and the other one is alive.
Brain dump here
TW/Tags: Death, cheating, abortion, plot twist, reader has nickname: bug
Word count: 8.3k
Notes: I started writing this years ago as a book, wrote thousands and thousands of words with completely different characters, and I eventually gave up because who am I kidding about writing a damn book lmao
I’m so happy this idea is finally published, even if it’s a little mix of blurbs ❤️
@lacy1986 @peeekabo0 @all-my-faves-here
The family gathering
You arrive at your family’s estate for the annual family gathering and pull up just as Jack is getting out of his car.
“You’re early” he says teasingly, “you’re never early for family gatherings.”
“You’re the only one who knows I don’t like my family… please let’s keep this as our secret…”
“You feeling okay about this?”
“Me? Of course I am!” Tonight would be the night Jack and Megan would announce their engagement. “I can’t wait to celebrate the two of you.”
“Thank you, for being so supportive.” he gives you one of his soft smiles, the ones you adore but trying to hate, so you can move on.
You hum as you nod. He gestures for you to walk in first, and you miss the days where he would swing one arm over your shoulder without thinking. You miss Jack, your friend, who was always there for you.
“Ah, the love birds!” A loud exclaim from your grandpa gets everyone’s attention.
“Nope, wrong twin grandpa. It’s not Meg”
“You two look so alike.”
“Yeah… we’ve been told.” Looks like grandpa might need a memory check. “I’m gonna say hi to everyone.”
The sound of chatter and laughter fills the manor, and it gets even louder when the engagement is announced. Champagne starts flowing quicker than a waterfall, and before you know it everyone is drunk and dancing. Including you. Regardless of your sad and broken feelings, you are still happy because they are happy.
Hours of talking, eating and celebrating, you slip away quietly from everyone and walk out of the manor, down a path leading to the gardens. Your grandpa had built you a tree house when you were younger and it was your favourite spot. Still is. You and your bottle of wine climb up carefully, sitting just on the edge dangling your legs down. It was you and the crickets, and the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. You lose track of time, and you find yourself crying when you hear the sound of laughing and music spreading all across the gardens.
“HEY!” Someone below you was waving at you. You turn the light on in the treehouse and Jack was at the bottom of the treehouse.
“What are you doing here??” You quickly wipe your tears away, hoping he doesn’t notice.
“It got… a bit too much. Can I come up?”
“Yeah, just be careful of your leg, please.”
You watch as he climbs up carefully, and you help him steady himself as he steps onto the treehouse, holding onto his biceps. “This is beautiful” he says as he looks around.
“Grandpa made it. Again, what are you doing here? You should be celebrating.” You don’t want him here; that would be the correct and logical feeling, but you’re happy he is here with you.
“It got a bit much. Asking about the wedding and the talk of having babies and…”
“Sorry…” you murmur quietly, “what did Megan say?”
“She said kids will naturally come when they do… she can’t exactly say Jack is infertile now can she?”
“I mean that would end the conversation..” You were always brutal wth your words, and you told Jack his response about having kids should always be rude and awkward, so they learn their lesson and never ask again. “Does Meg know you’re here?”
“Told her I needed fresh air.”
You sit on the edge of the tree house in silence, looking at the dark grounds in front of you. You turn over to him, “are you happy, Jack?”
Jack is content and had convinced himself he is happy. Because Jack never thought he will find anyone that will love him, given all his darkness and demons, and hell, even marry him, knowing full well he can never promise them a child.
“I am yes.” You know he is lying but there is nothing you can do about it. You’ve seen Jack happy. You miss that sparkle in his eye. It had nothing to do with Meg, you hoped, but he didn’t seem ecstatic. He seemed content, but not happy.
“So what are you doing here?” he nudges you teasingly.
“Oh I keep getting asked when I’m getting married or I keep getting congratulated by mistake. So I escaped.”
“I’m glad I found you here.” Jack says softly, “I miss us”
“I’m still here, Jack. Still me.” You changed the moment they got together. You took a step back, from being around him out of respect to Megan. It felt like cheating — being in love with him when she also is.
“It’s just different now…”
“It’s only gonna get better! You’re officially gonna be family and if anything, we will be closer than ever.” A huge, terrible lie. You are gonna be even more distant now, so you can focus on moving on from this. From him.
He turns to face you, and that sparkle in his eye is back, “I hope so, bug, I hope so.”
“Maybe drop the nickname… after you get married.. you don’t want anyone saying anything inappropriate.”
“What I can’t use your nickname now? Seriously?”
You giggle at him, “just kidding. You keep calling me bug and I’ll keep calling you bunny.”
“Promise?”
“Of course”
“You’re lying to me”
“I’ll make you a promise on the wishing tree.”
“The wishing tree?”
You point at the tree trunk, that sat in the middle of the tree house, and Jack sees all sorts of drawings carved on it. There are names, initials, many hearts and much more. He gets up slowly and carefully, walks over to it. He runs his fingers alone all the drawings then picks out a card from his wallet and carves b&b on the tree. “We’re on the wishing tree, so no breaking us now.”
You let out a sad laugh, holding onto that promise like a lifeline, “Never, bunny, never.”
The rehearsal dinner
“If I get congratulated one more time I am going to scream.” You murmur to yourself, no thinking that anyone was next to you.
“And if I get asked one more time if we’re rushing this wedding because Meg is pregnant then I will also scream.” Jack stands by your side, looking at the crowd ahead. “Congratulations by the way.”
“Shut up Jack.” You nudge him playfully, “Congratulations to you too on the pregnancy, apparently. Where’s Meg?”
“Talking to her friends.” He points at the group of friends all sat around the table. ”I have a feeling they don’t like me.”
“Why the hell not?” You don’t know anyone that doesn’t like Jack.
“They keep joking about Meg and Charlie getting together and it’s.. not funny.”
“It’s childish. But that’s uh.. Meg’s friends for you.”
“Are they always that bad?”
“They’re rich kids who didn’t need to work a day in their life, and they’re not even grateful for it. Yeah it’s that bad.”
Jack chuckles, “what about you?”
“I moved in with grandma when I was sixteen so I have worked a day in my life actually. And I also don’t say inappropriate jokes so you can say…I am better than them.”
Jack tips his head back and laughs out loud and you join him too. You loved his laugh more than anything in this world, and you missed hearing it.
The wedding planner walks over to the two of you, with a big smile on her face, “it’s time to practice speeches, you love birds ready?”
“Oh I-“
Jack cuts in for you and saves you the trouble for having to explain yourself once again. “Wrong twin.”
She apologises and embarrassingly runs away to find the correct twin after Jack points at Meg who was sat awfully close to Charlie.
“I should dye my hair or something…” you murmur.
“Please don’t. I love your hair.”
You think to yourself, the more reason to dye or cut it.
It was another late night of drinking champagne for everyone else, except for you, because you were eager to get back to your apartment away from everyone once dinner ends. Just as everyone was wrapping up, you quickly said bye to your family and rushed out of the restaurant but Meg followed. “Hey wait up!”
“You okay?”
“It’s Jack” She says bluntly.
“W-What about him? Is he okay?”
“He isn’t feeling too great, do you think you can take him home?”
“Why.. why can’t you take him home?”
“My friends are all still here… and Charlie wants to go out after this so we’re all gonna head to a bar.”
You try not to look too angry but say bitterly, “Where’s Jack?”
You rush over to the toilet, push through the doors and start yelling his name. You feel a mix of panic and anger, expecting the worse.
“In here” a weak voice. “Door’s open.”
You slowly open the cubicle, not entirely certain of what state you were going to find him in. He's sat on the seat, his prosthetic is off, and his stump was red and raw. His eyes are half shut, with damp sitting on the edge of his hairline.
You slap one hand over your mouth and feel yourself get nauseous over how hurt he looks.
“Jack, I’m here; it’s gonna be okay.” You crouch down to his level and examine his stump. “How bad is it?”
“I’ve not taken it off uhh once… today. I had too much to drink and I can’t take my pain meds and uh..” he was slurring his words and not because he was drunk. You have seen him reach this stage, and he was in agonising pain more than anything.
“Let’s get you home. Okay? Do you think you can walk with the prosthetic just until we get to the car? I’ll hold you, I promise.”
He nods slowly. You help him put it back on, then slowly lift him up, slipping both of your hands under his armpits to steady him.
“Thank you bug” he whispers, “I’m sorry”
“Nothing to be sorry about, c’mon I’ll get you home.” With every step, he winces more and more in pain and your heart breaks for him. You feel that familiar nauseous feeling bubbling up in your stomach at how broken he looks.
Once you’re back at their house, you grab him the spare wheelchair and help him sit in it carefully. You carefully take the prosthetic off, watching his face as it relaxes a bit, “Let’s get you pain meds, then change and go to sleep. Hmm? I'll grab you some water."
You don't make it too far away before you start violently gagging, and you have to steady yourself on the counter so you don't collapse.
Jack mumbles, "you okay?"
"Yep" you give him a thumbs up, and freeze in position. One wrong move and you'd be throwing up all over the marble floors.
"Bug what's wrong?"
"Jack, give me a minute. I ate something bad at dinner." You let out a shaky exhale and focus on taking a deep breath in, hoping it'd calm the heat in your chest.
“I’m sorry” Jack murmurs, “I’m sorry you have to do this.”
“What are you talking about! That’s what friends are for!” That’s what wives are fore, actually. In sickness and in health, isn’t it? “I’ll always be there for you, Jack.”
“I’m sorry for everything”
“Jack what even are you talking about!”
“I just…”
“Let’s get you to bed." You walk back to him, forcing a smile, holding down nausea, "And more importantly, pain meds. You need to stay in bed all day tomorrow because when Sunday comes, you need to be able to stand for a long time, walk and dance, got it?”
You push the wheelchair to the bedroom, then slide two hands under his armpits and help him onto the bed. “Can you take your clothes off please, I’ll come back with pain meds and pyjamas.”
“I don’t deserve your help” Jack whispers, not looking at you, but instead he's staring down at his hands.
“Jack what even are you talking about!”
“You! What I did to you!”
“You didn’t do anything what are you even saying?”
“I know"
“You’re drunk and you need sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“It all clicked in. Right this second. Fuck!"
“About what Jack.” You bite back.
“I know that you love me”
Silence follows for what felt like hours, but it was only a second or two. You feel stabbing pain in your heart — an awful feeling you don’t wish upon anyone. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t realise it earlier.”
“Jack stop!” You don’t mean to raise your voice but this conversation was ripping your heart to shreds. “Just go to sleep! Please!” Just- fuck!” You storm out of the bedroom, fighting for a breath that doesn’t come. Your hands on your mouth don’t silence the loud sobs that escape your lips. He knows. He fucking knows.
Jack stares at the carpets as he start taking of his shirt, then his trousers. By the time you return with a bottle of water and his pain meds, he’s still in the same exact spot.
“Meds. Drink.”
He doesn’t look at you once as he does what you ask of him. You grab him a fresh pair of pyjamas, and gently place it on the bed next to him. “Can you manage?”
“Uh yeah.. I should be fine.”
“I’ll be in the spare bedroom. Call me if you need me and your phone is next to you. Crutches are nearby too.” He notices how shaky and broken your voice is. Jack is well aware he has fucked up, terribly.
“I’m sorry again”
“I don’t need an apology Jack” you hate how vulnerable you look in front of him, “I need to know how you know.”
Jack eventually meets your eyes, and his are also tearing up. “You once told me that if you love someone so much, the thought of them getting hurt makes you physically sick. Like when you lost your grandma, you kept throwing up.”
“Shit.” You know exactly where he is going with this.
“And then when the bullet grazed my vest that day with SWAT and you helped clean up the wound… you-“
“I vomited yeah” the moment you saw him injured you vomited into an emesis bag and told him you had a stomach bug.
“For two days straight, all you did was vomit repeatedly.” He came over with meds and to check on you. And he didn’t leave your side. “And for two days straight I believed you. And you didn't eat anything bad at dinner. That's a lie.”
Fuck.
“I couldn’t tell you Jack. I’d be destroying your life and Meg’s.”
“I messed up” Jack whispers as he looks at you and cries quietly, “I really really messed up.”
“We- we can’t okay? We can’t talk about this. Not like this and not now.”
“Bug wait please-“
You ignore him as you run out of the bedroom, calling Meg to tell her she needs to get home and take care of her husband to be. You had your own crisis to deal with, which was getting through the wedding day so you can come up with an escape plan, that doesn’t involve being here, near him.
The wedding day
Jack woke up in the manor, in a bedroom he was assigned so him and Meg separate the night before the wedding. He was nervous, excited, happy but also sad for you having to go through this. You’ve ignored his calls and texts, and eventually he respected your wishes by leaving you alone. He blocked out any thoughts of what ifs and focused on him and Meg. Because that’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?
You, Meg and her best friend who was also the maid of honour were up from early hours getting ready in your own suite. “Champagne?” One of the butlers ask. You politely decline and to your surprise Meg declines it too.
“You feeling alright, Meg?” She doesn’t seem like herself; for someone who is getting married, you’d think she would at least smile. But instead, she looks like she was about to run away.
“Just tired, and nervous.” One thing about her was she was not a nervous person. You have seen her in difficult situations, and she was always so confident.
“Why don’t you give Jack a call? Maybe that’ll help ease your nerves?”
“God no” she chuckles nervously and you frown at how bitter she sounds.
A while later, Jack pops over to his and Meg’s suite to grab the wedding scent Meg had picked out for him. He already texted you to make sure that she’s nowhere to be seen so he doesn’t see her before the ceremony. He walks into the bathroom, opens the drawers trying to find this so called perfume but it’s nowhere to be seen. But he does see something.
Something he never thought he’d ever see.
He thought his eyes were betraying him at first. Maybe it was the tiredness or the nerves.
He grabs a clean tissue and leans into the bin, picking up a pregnancy test that’s been wrapped in plenty of tissues.
He holds the positive pregnant stick in his hand.
No one else had stayed in this room but Meg. No one.
“What the fuck is this!” Jack storms into the suite where Meg was getting ready.
“Jack” you run toward him, trying to push him out of the room. “Get out you can’t see her!”
He yells loud enough for the entire manor to hear, “answer me!”
“What’s going on?” You say cluelessly, looking back at her.
Jack waves the stick in the air, his face is red and his lips are trembling. He wants to be wrong, wants to be told that it’s someone else’s. But his gut feeling is never wrong, and guilt is all over her face, “congratulations, you’re gonna be an aunt.”
“Meg…?” You say quietly as you look at her, “please say something.”
But her silence told you everything you both needed to know.
The aftermath
“Jack can you get up please” you’re standing by the spare bedroom door at your apartment, “we’re going out for the day.”
“No we’re not” He mumbles sleepily.
“Yes, we are.” You say firmly, “and you’re gonna get your ass out of bed, right this second.”
“Just leave, please”
“GET UP!” You yell, “right now! I’m sick of whatever this phase is!”
“It’s called being sad” he bites back, “have some sympathy”
“Fuck you, Jack” you spit out, you’ve been nothing but supportive. “It’s been weeks of you just moping around and staying in bed all day and night. I’ve done nothing but give you sympathy!” You yell loudly, “so this next phase is being called tough love, get the fuck up! Now!”
He doesn’t respond, instead he pulls the duvet over himself and sinks deeper into the bed. “Fine then. You have 48 hours until you move out. Go live with someone else.”
You close the door behind you loud enough for the bed to shake, and storm into the kitchen. In an attempt to make a calming hot drink, in a rush and angry, you break the mug and it shatters all over the kitchen sink. “Great. Just wonderful” you say sarcastically as you look at the glass. In another attempt pick the glass up, you cut your finger open.
“What happened!” Jack opens the door quickly, with cutches supporting him on either side, “did you hurt yourself?”
“Why the hell do you even care?” You’re now crying, and not because you’ve cut yourself. You’re crying because you need your friend back.
He says a bit more firmly now, “did you hurt yourself?”
“Fuck off Abbot.”
“I’m sorry” he doesn’t sound sympathetic enough.
“Not good enough! I’m trying to help you but you’re being an asshole! And now I broke a mug and it’s all your fault!”
“I don't know how to move on from this”
“And I am trying to help you but instead you’re biting back like a snake! And not even a cute one!”
He moves over to your side, looking at the cut on your finger. “I forgot you think snakes are cute. Here, let me take a look.”
“Are you seriously trying to lighten up the mood right now?” You groan, “get your ass dressed we’re going out for the day!”
“Where to?”
“To look at apartments for you. It’s time for you to move out.”
“Okay but first can I look at the cut?”
“Fine” you huff and he reaches for your hand, looking at the very superficial cut.
“I’ll get you a plaster, then we’re going out for the day.” He smiles softly, “it’s time for me to make it up to you.”
You feel a tiny flutter in your chest and you hope that this might be the beginning of rebuilding your friendship. With your Jack, the happy Jack.
Families and feelings
To say things were awkward between the family members, Meg and you were an understatement. Everyone sat around the large table, awkwardly tapping, waiting for someone to say something. There was no need for you to be here, but your mom insisted you’d come along.
Your dad begins calmly speaking, “we need to talk about want happened. We can’t all pretended that everything is okay. You threw your life away for who — someone like Charlie?”
“Don’t talk about him that way!” Megan bites back, “he loves me!”
“Are you stupid!” Your mom is now yelling, “are you seriously trying to defend him? You got knocked up - what are you 15?!!”
“I got rid of it” she whispers.
Your jaw drops wide open as does everyone else’s.
“You did what?” Your dad is now nowhere near calm. “You got rid of it!”
“Yes I did!” She cries out, “let me do what I want!”
“I think we should all calm down…” you say quietly, “it’s her decision at the end of the day.”
“Who are you to say anything!” Your mom snaps and your dad ushers for her to calm down. “You’re still friends with Jack!”
“He did nothing wrong” you hiss back, “and he was my friend before any of you ruined it!”
“The question is why are you still friends with him?” She says rudely.
“He’s my friend and my colleague. And may I remind you again that he did nothing wrong. It was your daughter that cheated on him!”
“Stop being a bitch” Meg cries out, “you should be on my side”
“The fuck would I do that for?” You push off the chair, and decide that this meeting along with everyone else can simply go to hell. Not even a few minutes in, and they’ve dragged you into it. You’ve done nothing wrong — if anything you’ve been nothing but supportive to everyone including Megan. You hear them yell your name but you want nothing to do with them, for a long, long, time.
You drive back to your apartment, feeling more heartbroken than anything at how messed up this situation is. Meg ruined everything for you, and not in a way anyone would expect. Jack on the other hand was being way too nice to you, because he’s still crashing in your spare bedroom. Spirit wise, he was doing somewhat okay.
But it doesn’t help that you’re still madly in love with him, and your love doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. You decide that today will be the day you finalise your escape plan.
You walk into the apartment, your angry mood was too obvious to ignore.
“How bad was it?”
You don’t say a word as you sit next to him the sofa.
“Bug?”
“I got called a bitch”
“What the hell for!”
“For being your friend.” You whisper.
He doesn’t reply; instead, he pulls you toward him, wrapping himself around you as you sob against his chest.
“Hey,” he murmurs, voice warm against your hair. “Breathe with me, Bug. In… and out. That’s it.” He doesn’t let go, even when your tears soak through his shirt. Instead, he moves slightly so you’re tucked more comfortably against him.
Minutes pass, and eventually your cries turn into tiny hiccups, and Jack moves back, just enough to look at you. "You didn’t deserve any of that." His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping your tears away. "You're the only one who's had my back these past few weeks..."
"You’re the one whose life got turned upside down. I’m just… here."
"You're not just here," he replies firmly, "I don't know what I would have done without you."
"I'm sorry you're having to take care of me now. I should be the one-"
He cuts you off gently, hugging you closer. “We take care of each other. That’s what we do.”
You close your eyes and breathe him in, pretending that the line between your friendship and something more isn't a dangerous line to cross.
He presses a soft, completely innocent kiss to the top of your head, “Get some rest if you need to. I’ve got you.”
And you do. You let yourself melt into him and fall into deep sleep.
The accident
“Ready to go home bug?” Jack stepped on the roof and found you in his spot. Hit spot has now become your spot, just like everything else in your life. He’s become the only person you talk to, and care about. Meg on the other hand was constantly on your case, wanting to speak with you. You can’t forgive her, not yet. Not for what she did to your friend.
'“Uhh yeah I think so” you say quietly, looking at the sunrise in the horizon. “Im meeting Meg later today, Jack. She’s the last person I ever want to see.”
“If I forgave her then you can too.”
“I’m not ready for that…” you whisper, “I’m not ready for anything.”
Jack puts one hand on your back, and you hate how loved you feel just by a simple touch. “I think I want a break, for all of this.”
“Like a sabbatical leave?” He asks, hoping you don’t say what he thinks you’re about to say.
“No, as in leave somewhere far away.”
“Away from me?”
You chuckle bitterly at how broken he sounds. You can’t keep trying to fix him, and breaking yourself in the process. “I need to heal”
“To get over me, you mean.”
You weren’t sure if you would be able to get over him, even if you cross continents and oceans.
“What if I leave instead?”
“What? Are you mad Abbot?”
“I might be the problem to all your issues. So I’ll simply go if you want me to.”
You shake your head quickly and wipe the tears away, “let’s talk about this later. I’ve gotta go home change and meet her.”
“Bug please-“ Jack says softly, “I’m sorry for everything. For what I did and for dragging you into this. I’ve been so selfish — not grateful in the slightest.”
”It’s okay Jack” you mutter. Your love for him has clouded every decision you needed to make these last few months.
“But it’s not okay. I’ve been a terrible friend. An awful one actually. But from today onward, I will make it up to you. I promise.”
You give him a small smile and a nod. He has been making it up to you, but showing you just how much he truly cares about you. But it didn’t help that the more he did, the more love you felt for him. He swings one arm around you as he leads the way home.
Meg picks you up 45 minutes later than planned, without a single caring though about him, especially since she knows you’ve just worked a 14-hour shift.
She was angry from the start, ranting about the family arguments and Charlie of course. You truly couldn’t care less of what she had to say, but one thing you cared about was her frantic driving.
“Stop the car, we’re swapping”
“No!” She yells like the spoilt brat she is.
“Stop the fucking car!” You yell louder, feeling yourself panic at how crazy she was driving. You let out a scream just as she swerves the car aggressively, and eventually she stops abruptly in the road. “You’re driving like a manic, Meg!” You step out of the car and walk over to her side. “Get out!”
She huffs in anger and eventually agrees to swap with you. She then tells you that she had started antidepressants and they were making her drowsy, and was advised not to drive. She talks more about Charlie, who is now wanting to break up with her. Your patience was running low, and you had no more fucks to give.
“You’re an idiot.” You mumble, “what the fuck were you thinking getting behind the wheel!”
“Don’t be a bitch.” She bites back, “I wasn't thinking. I never think, apparently!”
“Yes that’s right Meg. You only think of yourself.” You shake your head in disappointment and focus on the road ahead. “You need to start therapy, focus on yourself and moving forward from this. Got it?”
You don’t react quick enough when she reaches over to you and pushes your head to the side. “Don’t tell me what to do!”
You yell at her to stop. “Meg stop! You’re gonna get us killed!”
“Let me out!” She yells as she tries to open the locked door.
You try and hold onto her hands, trying to calm her erratic behaviour down and your immediate thought is she’s got to be going through a psychotic episode. She fights you back and you truly try your best not to crash but there was no stopping the car from heading onto oncoming traffic as she grabs onto the wheel.
Jack receives a call that he never once thought that he will ever receive. A phone call from Dana, telling him to get over to PTMC as quickly and safely as possible. “There’s been a crash” she says, trying to steady her voice but Jack is familiar with this exact tone of voice.
“Who! Which one!”
“They were both in the car, Abbot.”
He doesn’t ask for any more details as he rushes over to PTMC, forcing himself not to feel a singular emotion until he sees you, safe and sound. You have to be safe, right? Because it was a simple car ride with your sister. What could go wrong?
Not even fifteen minutes later, he charges through the ambulance bay doors, looking somewhat composed. He pushes down the nauseating feeling that’s bubbling up in his chest. “Where is she?” He rushes over to Robby, “Robby where the hell is she!”
“Meg’s in trauma one”
“Not her! I couldn’t care less about her!”
“She-“ Robby chokes on his words, “Jack it was a bad accident”
“No” he shakes his head frantically, looking at all the sad faces staring back at him, “no, it can’t be. Right? She went out for a coffee with Meg! Where is she!”
“Jack, she didn’t make it.”
Jack’s POV
The family gathering
Jack looks around the crowded room, looking for you. He saw your uncle do something incredibly funny and was desperate to tell you about it. He told Meg what happened, but she frowned and told him to stop being silly. He wished she had the same sense of humour as him.
The buffet food was your worst nightmare; Jack knew that you’d be too anxious to eat finger foods in a crowded room. So he filled his plate up, and another one, picking multiple of the same dish, then sat next to you at the table. Meg was nowhere to be seen, of course.
“Wow you’re hungry.”
Jack chuckled at the way you pulled both plates toward you, “Meg told me to watch my figure.”
“Fuck off seriously?”
Jack shrugged; Meg was a bit bossy. “They're both for you, a bit of everything. I know how anxious you get.”
“Why do rich people always insist on the smallest portions? I don’t need a burger the size of a cherry tomato. Then people judge you when you pick two of everything.”
“That’s why I grabbed five tiny ones.”
“What would I do without you bunny?”
“Go hungry by the looks of it.”
Jack's catch-up with you didn't last very long before he got pulled away for more champagne toasting. When he looked back at you, you were already gone.
He cut many of the conversations short so he can get out of the room. It was getting too claustrophobic, and the talk of having children was too inappropriate and heartbreaking. So he eventually escaped and walked down a path in the gardens until he saw a familiar figure sitting in a tree house.
He didn’t realise how much he was smiling when he realised it was you. For the first time that evening, he felt like he could breathe and be himself. Jack knew that you had been crying, but he didn't question it, instead he sat with you on the treehouse until he heard you laugh and felt you relax.
And when he made that wish on the wishing tree, about not separating the two of you, he also wished that you’d find your happy ending and never have to be upset ever again.
The rehearsal dinner
Jack sat in a toilet cubicle, fighting off the dizziness that has now literally knocked him off his feet. He’d taken the prosthetic off, which gave him no relief.
He was reminded once again how lonely his pain and this part of him were.
That no one is coming here to help him, and despite the alarm bells ringing in his head on why his future wife isn’t bothering to help, he ignored it.
He called Robby for help but he didn’t pick up. He wanted to call you, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t your responsibility. Only Meg’s.
And when he heard your voice in the bathroom, he felt a tiny flicker of hope in his heart that someone out there cared about him.
He found comfort in your touch when you helped him to the car, helped him sit in, drove home with no complaints and took his prosthetic off. Because all Jack wanted was to be reminded that someone out there cares about him, and all of him, including his disability.
He then saw something. He noticed how you held down a wave of nausea, and something inside of him flickered.
He had seen you like this before, once. He remembered what you told him, about losing someone you love very much. He knew that you loved him as a friend, but he didn’t think you were in love with him until he saw the look of fear in your eyes. The same one when you attended to his gunshot wound.
Jack then knew that he deserved the pain because of the pain he had been causing you. Being here, taking care of him, marrying your twin sister.
It was too late, because even Jack knew that there was no backing out of this marriage now. Jack convinced himself he was happy.
But when Meg returned home later that night after you called her, and helped Jack settle in bed, Jack found himself missing you and your touch and no one else in the world.
Jack hated himself for how he felt.
The wedding day
After Jack confronted Meg about the pregnancy test, she yelled and cried like the brat she was and told him it was Charlie's.
He wasn't sure how to feel -- was he sad? angry? anxious? Dare he say, relieved?
But Jack was all the above. He threw the test on the floor right in front of her feet, and stormed out. Less than half an hour later, he packed his car and hoped he never have to see this manor again.
“Come back to my apartment.” He turned around and saw you run out to him.
“No” Jack wanted to be far away from you, because you had your own issues to deal with. “I need- I need to leave.”
“Jack please don’t leave. Me. Don’t leave me!”
It broke his heart how you pleaded and cried as he got in the car about to drive off.
"Please don't. You're my friend. Where are you even going!"
He took your house keys and drove there as quick as he could. He was only doing this for you, and only you.
You follow an hour later, with two pizzas in hand and a pack of beer.
Jack’s world may have fallen apart, but you sitting next to him, force-feeding him pizza, watching yet another action movie that you didn't understand the plot of, made everything a tiny bit easier.
Jack went to bed that night, knowing that he had you to wake up to the next morning.
He didn’t care that you looked just like her.
Because you were you.
You were his friend.
And you were here with him, safe. And that was all he wanted.
The aftermath
Jack woke up every morning after the wedding-day-that-didn't-go-ahead and reminded himself that he was an idiot. He should have never believed that someone like him would deserve love and happiness from someone like Meg, or anyone for that matter.
He fell into a sinkhole that he couldn't climb out of, despite your help, pleas, and begs. He spent most of his days and nights in his bedroom, tossing and turning, trying to understand the complexity of everything he was feeling. He was sad that he wasn't a married man, confused why he was sad because he realised how little Meg loved him, understandably angry for what she did but also somewhat relieved. He was relieved that Jack could finally go back to his old, simple, lonely life.
It was only when you threatened him to move out that he got out of bed. Because losing you meant losing the last part of himself that lived, and he would never do that to you. So he promised himself that he was going to swallow his sad feelings and do better for you.
Families and feelings
Jack wanted to set the world on fire, along with the people who hurt you. Because having you in his arms like this, crying when you did nothing wrong, was excruciating. He wished he could take revenge on them, right this moment, but that meant more trouble for you.
So he kept you in his arms that night and every night. Whatever you asked of him, he did it. He never felt like he was good enough for you, so he tried to do better every day.
He promised himself that until the day he died, he was going to worship the ground you walked on because only you mattered. The person that loved him from the start, who supported him through thick and thin, and the person who always showed up.
Jack decided that he did not want to label how he felt for you except this: you were his person, and his whole heart.
The accident
“Fuck off” Jack shakes his head again and a nervous smile breaks across his face, “you can’t be serious right now?”
“The car caught fire almost instantly and-“
“Where is she!” He pushes Robby out of his way and runs over to the trauma rooms, still hoping you’d be in one of them, alive and safe.
“Trauma two” Robby follows. “Jack, they both have extensive facial injuries, including burns, just be prepared-“
He stops listening to Robby the moment he walks into the room. The body on the bed was unrecognisable.
“No” he repeats to himself as he walks over to the body, “you can’t be- no she can’t be! Robby she can’t be dead!”
“Jack it was pronounced on the scene”
“Maybe it’s Meg. Maybe this one is Meg. They look the same and dress the same and you can’t tell who it is!” He looks at the body, hands shaking as he takes the hand in his.
“Jack we ran some tests, we did everything we could-“
“No!” Jack cries out, “she can’t be dead Robby! She was with me this morning! She was with me, at home she was safe and she was okay!”
“I’m so sorry”
He takes the hand in his, and starts whispering to himself, in complete shock and denial, “I’m here bug, I’m right here. Okay? I’m never leaving you. Ever”
“Jack…”
“You can’t leave me, not yet, I was supposed to go first not you” Jack says softly, leaning over the body, “this is just a nightmare and it’s all gonna be over soon, okay?”
“Abbot please-“ Robby cries as he puts one hand on his shoulder to move him away, “let’s get some air”
“This can’t be happening” Jack shakes his head, convinced that this was just another nightmare, and that his best friend was not dead.
“I’m really sorry Jack I know how close you two were and-“
“I want to see Meg” he spits out, gently placing the hand back on the bed. “I want to see her now”
"They're still working on here and-"
He changes out of the room, opening the doors into trauma one. “You fucking bitch!”
Santos, Langdon and Perla are all looking at him with shocked expressions on their faces — they have never see Abbot behave like this. “it should be you that’s dead! You don’t get to live!”
Robby attempts to pull him out of the room but no amount of power was going to stop Jack and his broken heart from leaving this room calmly, “it’s not fucking fair! None of this is fair!”
“Calm down!” Robby yells back, “she’s not doing too good either!”
“I hope the bitch dies” he spits out, looking at the unrecognisable body on the bed, “She deserves hell for everything she did to us. Hell!”
The panic attack comes on strong for Jack, the worst one he’s ever had. Once reality hits him that he will never be able to speak to you, that the body in trauma two will never wake up, that he will never hold you or love you, he crashes. Everyone’s faces in the room suddenly go blurry, and he feels incredibly small compared for them. He tries to fight for a breath but it doesn’t come. Robby says something to him but he brushes him off. He doesn’t remember the minutes that follow, but he finds himself sitting on the ground outside the hospital staring at traffic. Robby finds him eventually, but he doesn’t say anything; instead, he sits next to him on the ground and puts one arm around him. His loud sobs echo all across Pittsburgh. He had his heart broken too many times, but this one… this one he will not survive.
The unsaid
Jack sits by the ICU bed, staring at the body on the bed that’s covered up in bandages from head to toe. He hates that he’s in this room. Hates that he’s feeling sorry for Meg. Hates that he should be grieving you, instead he’s here with her. The person who took you away from him, made him fall in love with her then broke his heart.
Jack hates his life and there was no coming back from this feeling.
“I have so many things I want to tell you” Jack says quietly, “and they’re not very nice things I can assure you that. You broke my heart once, and I didn’t think you’d do it again.”
“You took her away from me. My best friend and the only person who ever truly cared about me. You took her away from me, and that’s something you will live with for the rest of your life!”
He closes his eyes and tries to calm himself down, reminding himself this is still a hospital and he should act caring, otherwise he’d get kicked out. “There’s a very fine line, almost invisible to the eye, between love and hate. I thought I loved you, but I am so wrong. You pushed me over that line so easily, and I will hate you for the rest of my life.”
A few minutes of silence, then he continues,
“Bug loved me for who I am, and I am so stupid for not seeing it earlier. I’ve been so stupid this whole time, falling for someone like you. When it should have been her. It was always her.”
He leaves the room, back to your apartment and doesn’t return for another days.
He had nowhere else to live, so he stayed here and took over the lease. He couldn’t let your space go, or all of your things. He slept in your bed and cried himself to sleep every single night.
He spent days of wanting to call you but you were never going to pick up the phone.
Days of planning revenge on Meg, but that doesn’t last long because Jack isn’t a bad man. He’s a sad and broken one.
He eventually returns to the ICU room, this time promising himself that he will not get angry. The nurse in the room tells him the good news, that she’s making progress. He forces a smile, but deep down he couldn’t care less. He wasn’t sure why he keeps coming back here, but he has so many things unsaid that needed to come out, otherwise it was going to eat him alive.
“I miss my best friend, Meg. I miss bug. I miss talking to her, I miss having her at work. I miss our rants to each other. Her smile and her soft giggle. I miss our breakfasts together. I miss the way she’d boss me around, telling me when to take a break when I should have been the one to tell her that.” He continues, his broken voice filling the room, “I decided that one day I might forgive you, but not yet. Not so soon. The funerals been arranged for her, and I have to attend, to say my final goodbyes.” He smiles nervously again, “your mom planned it all and I just know she hates everything about it…”
He feels himself starting to get angry again so he tries to slow the hammering of his heart down, but he fails. He wants to be angry, because he doesn’t want to feel any other emotions. He doesn’t want to be sad, because sadness won’t bring his best friend back.
“I keep telling you how much I hate you but now I’m going to tell you how much I love bug. Oh I’m so stupid for not telling her sooner. We would have been so happy, but I fell under your charm like an idiot. I love her so incredibly much and it took for her to die for me to realise it. I wish you could hear me because what I’m about to say won’t ever be repeated. If I had a time machine, Meg, I would have refused to meet you. I would have told bug that she’s the only person I ever need in my life. Her and only her. Even if she doesn’t want me to be more than just a friend, I’d still be there for her. I love her with all my heart, and I wish I had told her sooner. ”
Jack moves up from the chair slowly, “when you’re awake, we will talk. And I’m not going to be nice I can assure you that. You’re going to live the rest of your life feeling nothing but guilt!”
The nurses outside the rooms can now hear Jack yell, and security is instantly called in.
“I love her and I don’t want to live a day without her! I shouldn’t be here and either should you. She should be the only one that’s happy, because she deserves to be happy. Deserved. Past tense because she’s dead Megan! She’s fucking dead!” He cries out, “You should have never been driving. It was there on your fucking chart! You deserve hell and I hope you find it, in this life and next!”
Security grabs hold of Jack and pulls him out of the room. He’s mumbling gibberish at them, trying to fight them off, but he immediately goes still.
Jack doesn’t want to fight anymore. Jack’s too tired for any of it. Because why would he fight? Who is he fighting for?
He brushes everyone off him and leaves the ICU, with one intention in his mind. If you’re not here then he shouldn’t be here. It’s as simple as that.
He finds his favourite spot on the roof, the same spot you stood at not even a week ago. The same spot you two first opened up to each other after a bad shift.
The first shift he admired you. The first shift he asked you if you wanted breakfast after work.
The same spot he came back to after a bad shift, and you followed to check in on him.
He cries because he’s fucked up. He fell in love with the wrong person but was he truly in love? What was he feeling? Jack doesn’t know what he was feeling and he doesn’t care anymore.
His phone buzzes in his pocket many, many times and he doesn’t bother to pick it up. Whoever was calling had nothing important to say. If it wasn’t you calling then it doesn’t matter.
He wonders if it’s fucked up that he stands in the same exact spot where your friendship started, and his earthly love for you will end.
He hopes and prays that wherever he goes to next, he’d het to see your beautiful smile once more.
His phone rings one more time and he angrily picks it up, “Robby not now!”
“Jack” Robby’s voice is shaky, “where are you?”
“I’m busy we’ll talk later-“
“Jack listen to me there’s- fuck.” … “There’s been a mistake.”
Oh.
Oh.
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s awake, she’s asking for you.”
“I don’t care-“
“Bug’s asking for you, mumbling something about a wishing tree.”
Michael Robinavitch hadn’t thought much about the daughter he left behind. Not since the day he signed away his parental rights twenty-three years ago, when her mother got married to a more reliable man. She’d been four years old; small enough to still reach for his hand, too young to understand why he stopped showing up.
Until a new nurse practitioner started at PTMC.
She was twenty-seven. Bright. Bubbly. Effortlessly kind. The kind of person who could make even the most exhausted patient smile. And when she laughed, her chocolate-brown eyes crinkled in exactly the same way the chief attending's did.
Warnings: absent biological father, abandonment, parental regret, adoption, references to addiction and recovery, divorce, emotional hurt, medical setting.
Notes: Hey guys! I'm back! Please enjoy this little Robby remembering he has a heart story. Also the dividers mean we're switching scenes or into Robby's POV.
You have been sitting in your car, parked outside Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center for exactly twelve minutes, when your mother called you a coward.
Not directly, Elizabeth Grace Daniels was far too loving to call her only daughter a coward. Let alone on the morning of her first day as emergency nurse practitioner. She merely said, “I thought you told us you were going inside.”
Which translated from mother speak, meant: You have spent twelve minutes in your car, Y/N. Stop being ridiculous.
“I am going inside,” you said, staring at the hospital’s ambulance bay, watching people in scrubs and ambulances enter the building.
“You said that about ten minutes ago,” sighed your mother. ”I’m mentally preparing.”
“You have worked in the ER for almost three years and completed your emergency fellowship at Mercy. I think you’ll be fine.”
”They’ll expect me to know things. I’m not just a nurse and this isn’t just a family medicine mother.” Your mother sighed through the speakers of your car.
You could picture her standing in the kitchen with one hand braced against the counter, already dressing for the day even though it was barely six thirty in the morning. There would be a cup of coffee beside her, cooling down as each minute passed. The aroma filling the kitchen. Your dad would be somewhere nearby in his robe and slippers, pretending not to listen, newspaper in hand and his glasses sitting low on his nose.
“You do know things,” she said, “You thrive in the hospital. It’s strange how calm you are in that place.”
“I don’t feel so calm right now,” you say, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel.
Your mother called away from the phone. “James, tell your daughter to get out of her car.” A deeper voice answering from somewhere in the background.
“Get out of the car, Birdie.” You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “One of these days you’re going to have to retire that nickname.”
“Not happening, my girl.” Your dad said with a quiet laugh. “You’ve been calling me Birdie for twenty- four years.” “And I’ll do it for another twenty-four if you’ll let me.”
The nickname came when you were three, instead of walking like a normal child, you skipped from place to place with your arms stretched out behind you, making chirping noises and pretending you could fly like a bird. You were also convinced that the birds could talk to you. What a weird toddler.
James had watched the whole thing with the kind of adoration only a father could have. One afternoon, after chasing you through the backyard while you “flew” in crooked little circles around the maple tree, he scooped you into his arms and laughed. “I’ve got to catch my little Birdie before she flies away,” causing you to go into a fit of giggles.
The name never disappeared.
James Daniels had been making you laugh your entire life, or at least as much of your life as you can remember.
He was the one who taught you how to ride a bike, placed bandaids on your scrapped knees, and was the loudest person in the crowd at every graduation ceremony. He had cried when you passed your boards, although he insisted a strong breeze had somehow entered the house and irritated both of his eyes.
The fact that James was not biologically related to you had never mattered.
There had been another man once.
Your mother had told you the truth when you were old enough to ask why your original birth certificate held a different last name. His name was Michael. He had been young, frightened, and inconsistent. He had tried to be a father for four years before deciding that signing away his rights was the best thing he could do for you.
Or the easiest.
Your mother had never said which.
James adopted you shortly after marrying her. Your last name became Daniels, and Michael became someone who existed only in a few blurred childhood memories you no longer trusted.
A man crouching to tie your shoe.
A scratchy cheek when he kissed you goodbye.
The smell of coffee.
A dark-haired figure walking through a doorway.
Sometimes you wondered whether those memories belonged to him or whether your brain had simply built a father-shaped shadow after learning one had once been there.
You did not hate him.
Hating someone required a kind of intimacy you had never shared.
You simply did not need him.
You already had a father.
“Y/N?” your mother prompted. “I’m going.” “You’re going to be wonderful.” your mother said. “You legally have to say that.” “No, legally I have to love you. Lying is optional.”
Your dad’s voice came through again. “Call us at lunch.” “I probably won’t get lunch.”
“Then call when you can.” “I will.”
You picked up the iced vanilla latte sitting in the cupholder and grabbed your tote bag from the passenger seat. “I love you.” “We love you too,” they answered together. You ended the call before either of them could give you another instruction. For a moment, you remained behind the wheel.
PTMC rose beyond the employee parking lot, all glass, concrete, and long rows of windows reflecting the early morning sky. You had completed clinical hours in busy emergency departments. You had worked through codes, combative patients, understaffed nights, and traumas that left blood drying in the grooves of your shoes.
You knew hospitals, but this was PTMC. The emergency department people whispered about in nursing-school clinical groups and praised during critical-care lectures. The place that received the patients other hospitals could not manage.
And this time, you would not be standing at the bedside waiting for someone else to make the final decision.
Your name would be attached to the assessment. Your orders. Your plan. Your mistakes.
You exhaled slowly and opened the car door. “Okay,” you whispered. “Let’s try to embarrass myself.”
The ambulance bay entrance opened directly into chaos.
A stretcher rushed past before you had fully crossed the threshold. Two paramedics spoke over one another as a nurse guided them toward a trauma room. A monitor alarmed somewhere beyond the central desk, followed by a voice calling for respiratory therapy.
You stepped instinctively out of the path.
“Good,” a woman said beside you. “At least you know not to stand in the doorway.”
You turned.
She wore grey scrubs with a white long sleeve beneath them, reading glasses pushed into her hair. Her expression held the specific weariness of a woman who had already solved six problems that morning and expected at least forty more.
“Dana Evans?” you guessed. “That depends. Are you Y/N Daniels?”
“Yes, that’s me” “Then I’m Dana.”
You shifted your coffee into your left hand and held out your right. Your tote bag promptly slipped from your shoulder. Dana caught the strap before it struck the floor. You stared at her hand. She stared at you.
“That’s a promising beginning,” she said. “Should I go back outside and try again?” Her mouth twitched. “No. We don’t have time.”
Dana moved through the department without appearing to rush, in a place where everyone else looked like they were participating in an evacuation. You tucked your bag beneath the desk and straightened your badge, quickly looking at the credentials following your name.
Y/N DANIELS, APRN, FNP-C, ENP-C
It’s amazing how much weight some letters can hold.
Dana gave you a tour of the unit. From where the supply room is, to which bathroom is the most secluded. “Trauma rooms are through there. Red pods take the sickest medical patients. Yellow is supposed to be lower acuity, although patients don’t care about color assignments. Triage is through those doors. Don’t let anyone sneak their way past you.”
Dana pointed towards a physician sitting at a workstation.
That’s Dr. Dennis Whitaker. First year resident.” Whitaker looked up at the sound of his name.
He was handsome in an unpolished sort of way, soft exhausted blue eyes, flushed cheeks, and thick brown curls that refused to stay where they belonged. There was nothing intimidating about him
Dana motioned him over. He stood quickly, caught his foot on the leg of his chair, and recovered with only a minor loss of dignity.
“Dennis, this is Y/N Daniels, our new NP.” “Hi.” He offered you his hand. “Welcome.”
“Thank you.” “Is this your first shift?” “Yes.” His entire expression brightened. “Oh, good.”
You laughed. “Why is that good?” “I’m not the newest provider anymore.” Dana looked at him. “You’re an R1. It has been a few weeks.” Dennis shrugged, “Feels like forever in here.”
You liked him immediately. There was something reassuring about his lack of polish. He did not perform with confidence he had not yet earned, and he did not seem ashamed of being new.
“What did you do before this?” he asked. “I did my emergency fellowship at Mercy, but I was a trauma nurse at Allegheny General before that.” you listed while smiling up at him. “Way more experience than I had before starting here then.”
A voice cut in from behind him.
“Whitaker still occasionally needs reminders.” A young woman approached in black scrubs, her dark hair pulled away from her face. She carried herself as though the department had been built to accommodate her.
Dennis glanced over his shoulder. “I haven’t needed a tube reminder in months.”
“I wasn’t talking about medical equipment, Huckleberry.”
You looked between them. The woman’s gaze shifted to you, swift and assessing. “New NP?”
“Y/N Daniels.” “Trinity Santos. R2.” There was pride in the title, as though she had earned every syllable. Her handshake was brief and confident.
Dana resumed walking.
Trinity followed without invitation. Dennis came too, abandoning whatever he had been doing at the workstation.
You suspected this was how the Pitt operated, people collecting into temporary groups until an emergency scattered them again.
“Mel’s an R3,” Trinity explained as you passed a physician speaking gently with an older patient. “She’s frighteningly nice, but don’t mistake that for weakness. McKay’s also an R3 and will probably talk about her lack of a love life with you.”
“Trinity,” Dana warned. “What? It’s useful information.”
“And you?” You glanced at her, “What should I know about you?”
Dennis made a small choking sound. Trinity’s eyes narrowed. You maintained an innocent expression.
After a moment, she smiled. “Very ambitious. Usually right. Occasionally underappreciated.”
“Frequently loud,” Dennis added. “Huckleberry.” “I’m only helping.”
Their bickering had the comfortable edge of familiarity. Trinity teased him because she knew exactly how far she could push; Dennis objected because that was apparently part of the routine.
A burst of laughter sounded from the opposite side of the department. Dana’s expression changed. Not quite an annoyance. Something closer to apprehension.
You followed her gaze.
A tall man in black scrubs stood beside a nurse, signing something on a tablet.
His dark hair had fallen messily across his forehead, slightly too long around his ears, and the sharp line of his jaw only made his bright blue eyes stand out more. He was lean rather than bulky, but the sleeves of his scrub top stretched around his arms when he moved, revealing just enough muscle to be distracting.
Even from across the department, there was something unfairly attractive about him. An effortless, slightly disheveled kind of handsome
He looked up. His attention found you almost immediately. The smile did not disappear. It changed.
Dennis noticed. “Oh,” he murmured. Trinity followed his gaze and rolled her eyes.
“What?” you asked. “Nothing,” Dennis said quickly. “Langdon,” Trinity answered at the same time.
The man handed back the tablet and walked toward you.
There was a slight hesitation in his stride that did not match his confident expression. You probably would not have noticed if you had not spent years watching patients pretend they were less frightened than they were.
“Dana,” he greeted. “Frank.”
His eyes moved to you. “You must be the new NP.” “Is it that obvious?”
“You still look hopeful.” You laughed and offered your hand. “Y/N Daniels.”
“Frank Langdon.”
His handshake was warm. Steady. He did not release your hand too quickly, but he did not hold it long enough to make the gesture uncomfortable.
“Welcome to the Pitt.” “Thank you.”
Trinity folded her arms. “Can you flirt somewhere that isn’t blocking the main corridor?” Frank glanced at her. “I’m welcoming a colleague.”
“You don’t smile at Whitaker like that.” Dennis looked alarmed. “Please don’t.”
Frank laughed. The sound held genuine amusement, but something vulnerable lived underneath it, almost relieved.
As though joking with coworkers was a skill he had once performed without thought and was now pleased to discover he could still do.
It piqued your curiosity. Why is everyone somewhat acting cautious around this R4? Why is he looking like he’s anticipating some snarky comment?
You expected arrogance from an R4. Instead, you found a man who seemed to be trying very hard to appear like he had always belonged there.
A nurse passed behind Frank without greeting him. He noticed.
The smile remained, but you saw the moment land. Then he looked back at you and it was gone.
“So,” he said, “first day?” “Yes.”
“Nervous?” “Horribly,” you said with a chuckle.
“Good.” You lifted an eyebrow. “That’s what Dana said.”
“We trained her well.” Dana gave him a look. Frank lowered his voice. “You’ll do fine. Nobody feels ready on the first day.”
There was no flirtation in those words. Only sincerity.
You smiled. “Thank you.”
Frank’s expression softened.
For one strangely quiet second, the chaos around you seemed to fade.
Then a man’s voice called from behind you. “Dana, has surgery called back about bed seven?”
Everyone’s attention shifted. Dr. Michael Robinavitch approached with a chart tucked beneath one arm and reading glasses hanging from his scrub collar.
You recognized him from the hospital website.
The photograph had not captured the exhaustion around his eyes.
Or the gravity.
Dr. Robinavitch was not particularly tall or physically imposing, but the department seemed to rearrange itself around him. Nurses intercepted him with questions. Residents watched for instructions. Even Frank straightened slightly, his earlier ease becoming careful.
“Not yet,” Dana answered. “I can page them again.”
“Page the attending directly.” His gaze moved over the group.
Dennis.
Trinity.
Frank.
Then you.
He stopped.
It was not recognition. You would have understood recognition. This was quieter and more confusing. His eyes stayed on your face as though some detail had disrupted a thought he could not afford to lose.
You suddenly became aware of everything about yourself. Your stiff new scrubs. The loose strand of dark hair near your cheek. The badge clipped crookedly to your chest.
“Robby,” Dana said, “this is Y/N Daniels. Our new nurse practitioner.” His gaze dropped to your identification.
Daniels.
The name meant nothing to him. You could see that much.
“Dr. Robinavitch.” You extended your hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” He looked down at it.
Then back at you. A brief, awkward pause passed before he accepted. His palm was warm, his grip gentler than expected.
“Robby,” he corrected. “Robby.”
Something moved across his face when you said it. Gone before you could understand it.
He began asking you questions about your experience, and where you went to school. Obviously trying to determine if you would survive in his ER and how much he would have to supervise you.
The questions came quickly, each one building upon the previous answer.
Frank shifted beside you. “Is this an interview?”
Robby did not look away from you. “I need to know what she can do.”
“You could also say hello.” “I did.”
“No, you told her your nickname and began an interrogation.”
You pressed your lips together to hide a smile. Robby noticed. His eyes flicked toward your mouth, then returned to your eyes.
There it was again.
That strange pause.
“Do you have a problem answering questions?” he asked. “No.”
“Good.” “You could ask whether I have any weaknesses,” you say looking up at him.
“Do you?” “Charting and authority figures with expressive eyebrows.”
Trinity choked back a laugh. Dennis stared at you as though you had just thrown yourself in front of a moving vehicle. Frank grinned.
Robby’s eyebrows lifted. You gestured toward them. “Those.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then the corner of Robby’s mouth moved. Barely.
“Dana will finish the tour,” he said. “You’ll start with lower-acuity patients. Present every case before ordering imaging or specialty consults.” “Understood.”
“If you don’t know something, ask.” “I will.”
“If you think you know something but aren’t completely certain, ask.” You nodded.
He glanced at Frank. “And if Langdon tells you a rule doesn’t matter, assume it matters.”
Frank placed a hand over his chest. “I’ve been back for months. How long am I going to be the cautionary tale?”
Robby’s expression changed. The humor vanished from it. “So far? Indefinitely.” The words struck more harshly than the moment deserved.
Frank’s smile remained for one extra second before slipping away.
The silence around you tightened.
Robby seemed to realize what he had done, but not quickly enough to take it back.
Frank nodded once.
“Good to know.” He turned away. “Frank,” Dana called.
“I have patients.” His response was light. He walked toward the opposite pod without looking back.
Trinity’s expression held no sympathy. If anything, something like satisfaction flickered across it. Dennis looked at the floor. You looked at Robby.
He had already closed himself off.
“Welcome to the Pitt,” he said to you. Then he followed Dana toward the charge desk. You watched him go.
“Is it always like that?” you asked quietly. Dennis rubbed the back of his neck. “No.”
“Yes,” Trinity said simultaneously. Dennis glanced at her. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s not that complicated.” “Huckleberry,” she warned herself before he could.
You looked toward Frank. He stood at a computer alone, his posture straight, expression composed as he opened a patient chart.
Someone passing him might have believed nothing had happened.
You knew better.
Robby had not thought about his daughter in months.
That was more often than the years before his breakdown, when he could go long stretches without allowing her to enter his mind at all.
He had become skilled at compartmentalization. Medicine rewarded it.
A patient died; another arrived.
A resident made a mistake; another needed teaching.
A memory surfaced; a pager sounded.
There was always something more urgent than regret.
Lately, regret has become less cooperative.
Robby remembered his daughter as a four-year-old.
Dark hair that never stayed in its ponytail. Brown eyes. A stubborn lower lip. The solemn way she colored, pressing crayons so hard they snapped between her fingers.
He did not know what she looked like now. Did not know where she lived. Did not know whether she attended college, married, had children, or ever wondered why her biological father had signed away the right to know her.
He had never searched. He told himself it was respect. It was mostly cowardice.
Y/N Daniels looked nothing like the woman that upheaved all his life plans at first glance. She had been fair-haired, green-eyed, and soft around the face.
Y/N’s hair was dark. Her eyes were chocolatey brown. Robby’s coloring.
The thought arrived without permission. He rejected it immediately.
Brown hair was common. Brown eyes were common. Pitt graduated hundreds of nurse practitioners and nurses. Daniels was an ordinary name.
Still, something about the woman had unsettled him.
Not her features. Her expressions.
The way she pressed her lips together before saying something she knew she should probably keep to herself. The laughter that reached her eyes before it escaped her mouth.
The slight tilt of her head when she challenged him. He had seen those things before. He simply could not remember where.
Dana appeared beside him at the central board.
“You were unnecessarily cruel.” Robby kept his attention on the patient list. “To whom?”
She stared at him. “Frank.” “He made a joke.”
“So did you. His stopped being funny first.” Robby’s jaw tightened.
“He knows the situation.” “He knows it better than anyone.”
“He needs accountability.”
Dana scoffed, “He has accountability. He also has a tracking agreement, mandatory meetings, random testing, a recovery program, a divorce, two children he barely sees, and half an emergency department that looks through him.”
Robby finally looked at her. Dana’s expression softened only slightly.
“You don’t have to forgive him,” she said. “But you should decide whether you want him to succeed here.”
“I do.” “Then occasionally act like it.” She walked away before he could respond.
Robby looked across the department.
Frank stood alone at a workstation.
Y/N was watching him. Then she turned and caught Robby looking.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. Questioning. Disapproving. Familiar.
Robby turned back to the board.
By the final hour of your shift, your feet hurt, your iced vanilla latte, had been replaced by a Celsius that you got from the vending machine, and the careful ponytail you arrived with was barely holding itself together.
You considered that a successful first day. You had not killed anyone. You had not cried in a supply closet. And you had only been corrected by Robby four times. Which according to Dennis, was practically a glowing performance review.
“You should’ve seen my first shift,” he told you as the two of you stood at a workstation, finishing notes before handoff. “I’m pretty sure he corrected me four times before eight in the morning.”
Trinity glanced up from the computer beside him. “And you were covered by like 4 different types of fluids.” “Santos!”
You smiled down at your chart, rereading the assessment for what had to be the sixth time.
Your last patient had been a seventy-two-year-old woman with dizziness, dehydration, and a urinary tract infection. Nothing dramatic. Nothing worthy of the trauma center reputation that had made your stomach twist that morning.
Still, you had presented the case to Robby carefully. You had explained your reasoning, anticipated his questions, and already had the answers waiting when he asked them.
He had stared at you for a moment after you finished. Then he had simply nodded.
“Good plan.”
Two words.
You had spent the following twenty minutes trying not to appear embarrassingly pleased by them.
“You know you can sign that,” Trinity said. You looked at her. “I’m checking it.”
“You’ve checked it.” “I’m making sure I didn’t miss anything.” “You didn’t.”
Dennis leaned toward you. “You’ll learn that Trinity only offers reassurance when she wants access to the computer.” “I need to finish my notes, Huckleberry.”
You signed the chart and stepped aside. Trinity immediately took your place.
The department had shifted around you as evening approached. The daylight staff moved with the tired urgency of people trying to leave before one final disaster trapped them there. Nurses gave report beside open charts. Residents hurried to finish notes. Patients continued arriving as though the hospital had not already taken everything the staff had to give.
A man in dark scrubs approached the desk, travel mug in hand.
“Jack Abbot,” he introduced himself. “Night attending.” “Y/N Daniels.”
His eyes briefly scanned your badge before he smiled. “First day?” “And hopefully not my last.”
Jack looked toward Robby. “She survive you?” “Barely,” you answered before Robby could. Jack laughed. “You’ll fit in fine.”
You gathered your bag and said goodbye, but Robby stopped you before you reached the doors. “You did well today.” Your smile appeared before you could hide it. “Thank you.”
You lifted a hand in goodbye and walked through the ambulance-bay doors into the evening air.
Robby watched until the doors closed behind you. He told himself he was evaluating a new employee. Nothing more.
But long after you had disappeared, an old memory rose with such clarity that it stole the breath from his lungs.
His daughter had been four years old, sitting on the kitchen counter while he struggled to fasten the tiny buckle on her shoe. She had been wearing a yellow dress. Her dark hair had escaped its ponytail, falling around her round cheeks as she watched him with complete seriousness.
“You’re not very good at this,” she had told him. He laughed despite himself. “I’m trying.”
Her little head tilted. Then she reached forward and pressed both hands against his cheeks, forcing him to look up at her.
“That’s okay,” she whispered. “You can try again tomorrow.”
He had promised her he would.
At twenty-three, Robby had believed tomorrow was an endless thing. There would always be another morning. Another chance to show up. Another opportunity to become the father she deserved.
Until one day, there wasn’t.
He could no longer remember what happened after that moment. Whether he finished fastening her shoe. Whether she hugged him goodbye. Whether he told her he loved her before he left.
He only remembered her smile.
Bright and sudden.
Reaching her brown eyes before it reached her mouth.
Now, staring at the doors you had disappeared through, he wondered what that little girl looked like grown.
I think it will be really interesting to explore this new dynamic, especially because we know Robby was abandoned by his own mother. Maybe part of him believed he would never be good enough for his daughter. Maybe he convinced himself that letting her be raised by her mother’s husband would protect Y/N from ever feeling the same kind of abandonment he did.
That does not make what he did right, but I think it adds another complicated layer to his choices and I am excited to dive into that.
Anywho, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Hopefully, I am finally back to being active on Tumblr because I really, really want to be.
M. Robinavitch x F!Reader // Ex!J. Abbot x F!Reader
Summary: six months ago, Jack Abbot broke your heart. You're not interested in trying to move on; you have enough problems to deal with. Robby doesn't date, too consumed with survivors guilt to try. The proposition is simple enough: pretend to date each other, get Janey off his back about being alone, convince Jack you've moved on. Only, neither of you are that simple.
Content/Warnings: plus size/curvy reader but otherwise, no physical description used. Reader has their own mental health issues and struggles. Senior Resident Reader. Themes and references of self harm and suicidal ideation. Age difference (unspecified but at least ten to fifteen years). Unprotected sex. Unhealthy coping mechanisms. Alcohol consumption. Nicotine consumption. Smut. Oral (F). PIV. Toxic relationship dynamics. Workplace shenanigans. Fake dating trope. Background other relationships.
Summary: An unfortunate encounter with a waffle iron leads you to County General's ER at midnight. You hope you don't run into your roommate John... he tends to worry, and you're sure he'll prioritize you over more important patients.
Pairing: John Carter x gn!reader
Word count: 2.4k
Warnings/tags: minor burn injury, reader goes to the ER, fluff, roommate!carter, phd student reader. apologies if he's ooc, i've only seen about nine episodes so far lmao
my first ER fic... needed to write this babygirl STAT! perhaps i'll write him more in the future :)
divider
For the record, you tried everything to avoid the ER.
There's really nowhere you'd rather be less than County General’s emergency waiting room at midnight. You put ice and antiseptic and Neosporin, all from your roommate’s first aid kit that he insists on keeping stocked. Any other night, you would've stayed home and let your body do its thing. Heal. That’s what human bodies do, right?
But after burning yourself with the waffle iron, you stared at the patches of blood swelling the criss-crossed welts on your arm, and said roommate's voice started nagging you in your head. You know most burns are worse than people realize? I've seen three this month that got infected because people didn't come to the hospital right away. This was two weeks ago, when you were still waking up from a nap after submitting your thirty-two page paper on the significance of husbandry in medieval literature.
It should be said that, after only rotations in dermatology and psychiatry, your roommate is a little jumpy when it comes to emergency medicine. He takes everything seriously, especially after getting reamed by his supervising resident in his first two months.
His nerves have infected you. That’s the truth. You really need to stop helping him study. Knowing all the ways a person can become septic will make anyone jumpy.
The nurse has given you an ice pack while you wait, which was really nice of her. You don't mind waiting, although you have a morning class, and you were hoping to get some actual sleep before heading off. You aren’t a med student, thank Christ, but a PhD is no joke.
The door to the waiting room opens and there’s John, which makes you panic. You seriously debated paying a cab extra to take you to the next hospital over in Chicago. But you don't have that kind of money, and you were worried about the burn, so you sucked it up and hoped he would stay out of the waiting room. No such luck.
It seems like maybe he hasn't spotted you. He beelines for an elderly woman and helps her into a wheelchair, complimenting her Schnauzer-printed handbag, which you find extremely endearing. He looks so professional in his white coat, John Carter printed neatly on the badge clipped to his pocket. John told you that in the beginning of his internship, some of the residents teased him about having a tailored coat. But you think he wears it well. His movements are confident, gentle. It’s nice to see him in action, despite the circumstances. He wheels her inside and hands her off to a nurse. Then he stops.
You grimace as he turns and faces you. You wave, trying for casual.
“Oh, hey, John,” you say lightly. “Is this where you're placed? Very cool.”
He hurries to you and his gaze flicks to your cooked arm. His eyes widen.
“Holy shit,” he says. A few patients look up in alarm. John winces and mumbles an apology. He squats down to your level, gingerly lifting your injured arm to get a closer look at the burn.
“What happened?” he asks. “How long have you been waiting?"
“Dude, relax,” you say, nudging his shoulder with your knuckles. “I'm fine. But that’s the last time I attempt anything with your waffle iron. It's out to get me.”
“That’s why you shouldn't use my stuff,” John says, teasing, momentarily forgetting his worry. But then he sees the welts and frets again. He stands, seemingly coming to a decision in his mind. “I'll be right back.”
“John, please don't make a big deal. I can wait my turn.”
“I'm not making a big deal,” he says as he disappears behind the doors. You groan, tilting your head back in defeat.
“Dr. Benton?”
Carter sniffs his resident out like a bloodhound. You're his only thought. He has about five other patients to check on, but you need care. You burned your arm, and it's nasty-looking. Not that you're nasty-looking. You could never be nasty. You're probably the prettiest person Carter's ever laid eyes on, and he gets a lot of pretty people throwing themselves at him when they find out he's a doctor-in-training.
You aren't like that. You don't care that he’s been sucking on a silver spoon since the day he was born, that he has no idea how he fits into the fabric of the world, but he’s trying his best. You know he’s trying. You're interested, kind. You ask him how he's doing, leave him leftovers to reheat, throw his laundry in with yours if you're doing a load. He pays more than his half of rent, even though you’ve told him repeatedly he doesn’t need to. He buys the expensive groceries to replenish what you use on him, so you can enjoy fancy grilled cheeses and burgers. Carter provides little to nothing, working twelve to fourteen hours a day and borrowing money from his dad, but you still treat him like he’s good. Like he’s worth it. You're the best roommate ever. And right now, he needs to return the favor. This is truly the least he can do.
“Dr. Benton,” Carter says again as he gets closer.
“Heard you the first time,” Benton says tiredly. “What is it, Carter?”
“Uh, burn victim.” Carter winces. He feels bad calling you that. Your case isn't that severe, and he's undercutting what real burn victims experience. He's just a little shaken. He's never seen you hurt. “Sorry, not a victim, just… patient came in with a waffle iron burn and it looks kind of deep. I'm worried about infection.”
Benton shrugs. “So treat it. You can handle a burn.”
“Right, but they're still out in the waiting room.”
“Then how have you already made a diagnosis?”
Carter looks at a crash cart, trying to think of an excuse that'll result in the least amount of shouting. “Uh…”
“Carter.”
“Hmm? Oh, well, I happened to see it when I brought in Mrs. Voorhees. I really think we should bump them up the list.”
“We don't pick favorites. If someone's injuries are severe enough, they get admitted without our interception.”
“Right, yeah, I know that, but…” Carter interlocks his fingers, bending them. “It's just that, uh…”
Benton crosses his arms. “Do you know the patient?”
Shit. Caught. Carter ambles for the answer they both know. “Well, kinda.”
“Kinda?”
Carter musters the saddest, pleading-est look he can manage. “Sir, please. I'm really worried. It's my roommate.”
Benton blows air out, probably already sick of Carter. They’re nine hours into their shift. This is about when Benton loses his already thin patience.
But he doesn’t yell, to Carter’s surprise. “Fine. One time. Don't make a habit of it. And don't tell anyone I gave the okay.”
Carter barely waits after the go-ahead, sprinting back to the waiting room and shouting thank you.
Five minutes later, your name is called. You're aware of eyes on you, and the fact that you've been called before three others who were here when you arrived. You're about to explain all this to the receptionist when John appears in the doorway, clipboard in hand. He says your name professionally, like you've never met before.
You glare at him. “John, did you do this?”
“I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Dr. Carter,” he says mildly.
You roll your eyes and follow him into the ER. The doors shut and you turn, about to give him a piece of your mind. But John's already down the hall, leading you to a room. You follow exasperatedly.
He shuts the door behind you and sets down his clipboard, rushing to inspect your arm. All pretenses fall away; this is your concerned roommate fussing over you.
“John, it's wrong that you bumped me up the list. Those people have been waiting over an hour.” You sit on the examination chair, unable to do much else with John crowding you into it like a neurotic sheepdog. He sits on a stool and gets close, propping your legs up on a large cushion. He takes his stethoscope and feels your chest and back. You sigh.
“Is this really neces—”
“Yes! Burns can get infected. Irregular heartbeat is a sign of that. Anyway, you don't need to worry about the people waiting. One man out there said his cheek hurts after falling asleep on his kitchen table; one woman took too many vitamin C tablets and won't leave even though we told her they're water-soluble and she'll pee them out; and the third patient thinks they’re seeing ghosts. Why you'd come to an ER for that, I really don’t know, but—”
“The point is that you shouldn't show me favoritism just because we're roommates,” you say.
“Considering I'm your emergency contact, I think this is exactly the type of situation that warrants favoritism.” John gently lifts your arm and places it on his lap so he can clean the skin. “Might sting a little. Sorry.”
It stings, but it's tolerable. John's honed in on your arm like he's performing surgery. He meticulously cleans and applies a topical for the burn. Already, your skin feels better, no longer pulsing underneath the welts. John is so careful with you.
Another doctor comes in shortly. “Carter, you're needed in South 4.” His eyes land on you and he looks a little friendlier. “Hello, I'm Dr. Benton. Can I take a look at your burn?”
You nod and he approaches. John leans away for Dr. Benton to look. You know Benton well, from how often John's mentioned him. It's nice to put a face to the name. John watches Benton, eager for feedback.
“Is it okay? Should I run tests? If there's an infection—”
“Looks alright to me,” Benton says, voice a little softer. “First degree burn. Wrap it.” He looks at you. “So you two are roommates? I thought Carter lived with Mommy and Daddy.”
“They wanted me to be independent,” he mumbles, focused on wrapping your arm.
You smile. “We've been roommates for a few months. I live close to the hospital and needed the rent. It’s good to meet you. I've heard great things about his time here.”
Benton barks a laugh. “Yeah, I know that's a lie, but thanks.” He eyes John. “We had no idea he was living with someone. We’re relieved to learn he’s well-adjusted.” John rolls his eyes but doesn’t look away from your arm.
“You kids get along alright?” Benton asks.
You're confused by what he’s getting at but you nod anyway. “I’d say so. I mean, I hope I'm a decent roommate…”
“You are,” John says instantly. “The best.”
Benton hums. “Two minutes, Carter, or I'm assigning you to enemas for the rest of the shift.”
You hide a smile. John winces. “Okay, okay. I'll be out soon.”
“We'll give you a topical,” Benton says. “Apply it and change the dressing every six hours or so. If it starts to hurt or smell, come back. I'm sure you'll be well taken care of.”
“Of course,” John says, touching your knee.
Benton leaves and you watch John clean up the station.
“He seems nice,” you say.
John scoffs. “Yeah, in front of you.” He tilts his head, considering. “Actually, he was unusually cool about bringing you in sooner. More than when I brought Joe after he broke his arm at the bar.”
You remember that; John had just fallen asleep when he'd gotten the pleading call from his idiotic friend Joe Bailey to bring him to the hospital. His parents are friends with John's, and Joe had been terrified his parents would ship him off to military school if they found out about another drunken injury. He was always pulling stupid, rich boy stunts, as far as you understood, but John had taken him to the hospital out of nostalgia and sympathy.
They don’t talk anymore. You’re grateful. John deserves better friends.
“Benton told him he was a fool.” John sighs at the memory. “He wasn't wrong.”
“A waffle iron burn is pretty foolish too,” you say glumly.
“No, it's not. Could happen to anyone.” He squeezes your uninjured arm. “I'm glad you came, alright? I'd drive you home but—”
“It's fine,” you say. “It's a short train ride.” You don't have the funds for another cab.
John frowns. “This late? No way. Here.” He pulls out his wallet and two twenties, tucking them into your coat pocket.
“John—”
“No.” He holds up a hand. “Take advantage of me while you can, before Dad officially cuts me off.”
“It doesn't cost forty dollars to get home.”
“Well, order a pizza or something.” He smiles cheekily. “Anything to keep you from using my waffle iron. Why were you making waffles at night anyway?”
“I was trying to make breakfast for dinner. I was gonna leave you a plate too, for when you got back, so you could actually eat breakfast in the morning instead of dinner leftovers.”
His eyes turn soft. “You don't need to do that. I like whatever you cook.”
You shrug. “You have no choice.”
He grins. “I'm at your mercy, true. Honestly, though, I do like what you make. And I'd much prefer you stick to dishes that won't result in a burn.”
You groan. “Oh my God. How long are you gonna bring this up?”
“At least a month. Probably longer.”
“Carter!” comes a shout from the hallway.
John winces, scrambling to get up. “Sorry. I have to go. He's not kidding about the enemas. I'll see you soon? Call me when you get home so I know you're okay. Just leave a message, they'll get it to me.”
“Okay, worrywart. I'll be fine, you know. Not my first day on Earth.”
You flick his bangs away from his eyes. They drift back immediately.
“You need a haircut,” you say.
“Maybe one of my patients will be a hairdresser.” He crosses his fingers, scrunching his face. You laugh. He opens his eyes, sobering. “Please take a cab. Promise?”
“Yes, mom, I promise. Thanks.”
He reaches for you like he’s going to hug you, or maybe… maybe kiss your head. He did that once, when you both got a little drunk after finals last semester. Your heart stutters. But John aborts at the last moment, patting your shoulder instead. He flexes his hands, looking at you for a moment longer.
“See you at home.”
Then he’s gone. And maybe it’s not so bad, going to the ER, when John Carter’s tending to you.
John loved you more than anything - and the ring in the center console of his jeep proves it. But between his family telling him he deserves better, your own insecurities, an early morning fight and an incident at the coffee shop, he realizes - there’s no time like the present.
Warnings: hurt/comfort. heavy on the hurt. show and medical inaccuracies. everything medical I know is bullshit from Google and from 2 medical dramas staring 1 Noah Wyle. Cameo appearance by someone who doesn’t even go here. Smut-unprotected p in v + creampie. Apparently I can write one shots now? Cool. But Title from the song Chicago by Ingram Hill. John Carter is the love of my life <3.
Shoutout to @atlaslapis for betaing part of this and being the kick in my ass to write more. Love you baby bestie.
“You’ll be at the dinner party tonight, right John?” Gamma asked John on the phone.
“Yes, Gamma, we’ll both be there,” John said. He always had to remind his family that John and you were a packaged deal these days.
“Oh John,” Gamma said as she sighed on the other end of the phone, “You don’t really have to bring her. There’s going to be a lot of sophisticated people here, a lot of business partners. Even the Sitwell girl will be here. She’s taking over their family business.”
“Good for her.” John said.
“She always asks about you. Talks about all the deals the two of you could make when you are the head of the foundation,” John started to ignore the words of his grandmother’s voice on the other end of the phone as you walked out of the adjoined bathroom into your bedroom to get dressed. His eyes darted to the small tattoo of stars in these shape of the constellation Lyra on your ass. “I think she still has that crush on you. The two of you would make such a cute couple.”
John rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking over the foundation, Gamma. And I told you, I’m not interested in her. I’m with Starshine.”
“I don’t get why you call her that,” Gamma said, “I just don’t want you to waste your life playing house with some -“
“We aren’t playing house! We share an apartment. We’re dating. I lo-,” John stopped himself.
You turned around and looked at him, as you slipped your shorts on.
“Gamma, I-I got to finish getting ready for work,” John said as they exchanged their goodbyes and he hung up.
He ran his hands over his face and sighed.
“How’s Gamma?” You asked changing the subject.
“Ready for this dinner party. I’m ready for it to be over.”
“That makes two of us.” You said as you walked over to him, only in your shorts and your bra, and slipped your hands over his shoulders.
John signed and melted into your touch. “I just wish she’d realize how much I love you. I love you so much, Starshine.”
“Maybe if you told her, she’d realize,” you mumbled as you let go of John and turned to put your shirt on.
“What are you talking about? I just told -“
“You didn’t! You stopped yourself!” You said as you turned back to face him fully clothed. “You always stop yourself!”
“I do not! I just told you I loved you!” John said as he raised his voice.
“Me! You told me, John! You didn’t tell Gamma. You never tell her or anyone in your family you love me!” You didn’t want them to, but your own insecurities about being enough for a man of John Carter’s stats were creeping back into your brain.
“I’ve said I loved you in front of them before!”
“But not about me! That’s the problem! You’ve never told your family you love me. And why is that?” You asked.
“Why do you always do this?” John shouted.
“Oh what did I do?” You asked.
“You always want to start a fight before we go to the-“ John stopped himself. “You know what? No. I don’t have time for this.” John said as he walked away.
“Wait, John,” you said as you followed after him. “Don’t do this!”
“I said I don’t have time for this! I’m going to be late. You know how traffic on the Dan Ryan is!” He shouted as he reached for the door handle.
“John stop!” you said as you reached for his shoulder. He turned to face you at the contact. “I don’t want you to go in mad at me.”
“I’m not-“ John stopped himself from finishing the sentence.
You watched John’s face as he realized what he had done. And just how often he’d done it.
“Starshine, baby,” John said as he reached for you.
“Don’t,” you said as you took a step backwards. “You’re gonna be late, John,” you said as you turned around to go in the bedroom.
“Baby wait-“
SLAM!
John stood there after you slammed the bedroom door, before he sighed and headed out to his Jeep. Once inside, he slammed his fist on the steering wheel
“FUCK!” He shouted. He opened the center console, staring at the ring box he’d hid there two weeks prior. He wanted to give it to you, to ask you to be his forever. There was just never a perfect time. Now? He just hoped you’d still say yes when he got down on one knee.
On the other side of the bedroom room, you fell to the floor crying. Bringing your knees to your chest and burying your face in them. John always could put your insecurities about your relationship to rest. But today, today was different. The two of you had fought before. But today, today it felt heavier. It felt real. He’d never left without one of you saying I love you - no matter how pissed you were.
Before you could spiral anymore, you pulled out your phone and texted your best friend.
“Coffee?”
Not even 20 seconds later, you got a reply. “Always. When and where?”
John stood at the edge of the bed, hands gripping your hips - hard enough there were sure bruises, as he drove his dick in and out of you.
“John,” you moaned out his name.
“You like this, yeah? You take me so well Starshine. Like you’re - fuck - fucking made for me,” John said. In his mind, he was going over various surgical procedures in his head so he didn’t prematurely spill his seed inside you.
The bedroom filled with wet sounds of skin on skin, whines and moans coming from you, and the grunts from John.
“John, baby, I’m close,” you managed to say between the moans and cries escaping your lips.
“Yeah?” John said as he picked up his pace. “Whatcha need, baby girl?”
Without waiting for an answer, John snaked one of his hands around to your clit. He began rubbing the sensitive nerves with his ring and middle finger. “This?” He asked, “or This?” With the second question he applied pressure. “Or both?” He began alternating between rubbing and applying the perfect amount of pressure where you needed it most.
“Fuck! John! I’m-“ you could give no other warning as you started to shake and scream, as your orgasm took over your body.
Your boyfriend fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own release. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you whispered.
“I’m almost there, Starshine. I, fuck baby girl, I love you.” John said, as his hips stilled and he started to fill you up.
You sat with your best friend, Sydney, outside at a coffee shop on Ashland.
“Wait. So let me get this straight - first he made you come, then he made you cry? It should be the opposite,” she said.
“Right? I don’t know what to do. We’ve never had a fight like this before. He’s never left without telling me he loves me. What if he doesn’t -“
“Girl. Are you seriously thinking John doesn’t love you? Have you seen the way he looks at you? It’s like you personally hung the stars. He’s down bad for you,” Sydney said as she took a drink of her coffee.
“He never leaves mad,” you mumbled to yourself as an ambulance flew by - lights and sirens blaring. “They’re probably headed to County. Maybe I’ll get John a coffee before we leave, he probably needs it.”
Sydney shook her head. “I thought it was him that was down bad but bestie, I think it’s you.”
You laughed as you shook your head, “If it was Sammy, you’d do the same thing.” As you looked up, you noticed a familiar officer walking up to you. “Speak of the devil,” you mumbled. “You stalking us, Officer Bryant?”
“Naw, just left County - pedestrian was hit outside the Jewel-Osco on Roosevelt a few blocks away. Stopped for coffee, and saw you two,” Sammy said as he walked up to the table. “Hey baby,” he said as his attention turned to Sydney.
“Hey handsome,” she said as she smiled at her boyfriend as they kissed.
And you think I’m down bad. You thought to yourself as you sipped your coffee.
“John okay today? He was acting strange giving his statement on the condition of the patient,” Sammy asked.
You closed your eyes as you shook your head.
“They had a fight,” Sydney whispered to Sammy.
“That’s why he asked how I make it up to you after a fight.”
“And what did you say?” Sydney asked.
“Told him I eat you out until you’ve forgiven me.”
“SAMMY!” Sydney said as she smacked his arm.
That’s when you felt it, a small prickle on your neck.
STING!
“Ouch!” You said as you smacked your neck. Of course this would happen the day you didn’t have your purse, or your Epi Pen.
“You got your pen?” Sydney asked. Being your best friend - she knew all about your bee allergy.
You shook your head. “Forgot,“ You tried to take a breath, but you couldn’t. “Can’t,” you grabbed your neck, “breathe-“ you tried to stand, as your legs gave out. Sydney rushed to your side, Sammy already on the other.
“Already radioed the paramedics, they should be-“ before Sammy could finish his sentence, sirens rang out.
That’s when everything went black.
The ER was a busy place. Between every case, John checked to see if he had any messages from you. He had typed out multiple messages to you - all of which he deleted. For a moment he thought he should just take the advice Sammy gave him earlier - that’s when Doug Ross walked up to the central hub.
“Hey Doug, can I ask you something?”
“What is it Carter?”
“When you and Carol get into a fight how do you uh - make it up to her?”
“Flowers, an orgasm, or my favorite go to, flowers and an orgasm,” Doug said as he chucked to himself. Doug looked at John. He looked like a sad puppy. “You and Starshine have a fight?”
John nodded, “Yeah. I fucked up, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“She’ll forgive you, don’t worry,” Doug said as he walked away. “Hey and remember what I said, Carter.”
“Female in Anaphylaxis, didn’t have her Epi Pen, ETA 3 minutes,” Carol called out.
“Carter, you’re with me,” Mark said.
John nodded. He had to get his head back into the game. He felt his phone ringing. As he pulled it out, he saw it was a call from Sydney. There was no doubt in his mind she was calling to tell him he had to fix things with you. He slipped it back into his pocket and followed Mark out to the ambulance bay.
Once out in the ambulance bay, his phone rang again, another call from Sydney. He had to ignore it - the sirens were getting closer, the ambulance would be there any minute.
“You’re popular today,” Mark said.
“Yeah, sorry Dr. Greene,” John said as he went to put his phone back in his pocket, but not before it rang again, the name Starshine lighting up his screen. He answered the call.
“Starshine, I have to-“
“John!” He wasn’t met with your voice on the other end, but Sydney’s.
“Sydney?” John asked confused, “What’s going on? Is-“
“John, it’s her,” Sydney said in a shaky voice, just as the ambulance was pulling into the ambulance bay.
John began to replay every thing in his head. Female. Anaphylaxis. Didn’t have her Epi Pen. No. It couldn’t be. When the doors to the rig flew open, he was met with one of his worst fears. His whole world stopped.
“Starshine,” John said as the paramedics unloaded you from the ambulance.
“Female in Anaphylaxis from a bee sting. Pressure dropping, fast,” Doris said.
“Starshine!” John said again, louder this time, looking for any reaction from you.
“John!” Sydney called out as she got out of the ambulance, and ran towards him.
“Sydney. What happened?”
“We met for coffee to talk about-“ John’s face fell as she continued to speak, “Sammy showed up and we were talking. Next thing I know, she’s smacking her neck yelling ouch. It happened so fast.”
“Usually does,” John said as he sighed. “She didn’t have her pen?”
Sydney shook her head. “Said she didn’t bring her purse. She’s gonna be okay, right John?”
John didn’t answer as he looked away from her and headed to the trauma room.
“Get out, Carter,” Mark said as John entered the room.
“Please, Mark I have to help her.”
“You can help her by letting us help her.”
John ran his hands over his face. This couldn’t be happening.
“Stats and pressure are dropping. Pulse is weak,” Carol called out.
“Turn the oxygen up to 3, Haleh, I need an IV,” Mark called out.
“I’ll be gentle with her, promise,” Haleh whispered to John as she walked past him to start your IV.
“Why are you still here, Carter?”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Leave or I’ll have you removed,” Mark said as he looked up at him. “We got her.”
“I said I’m not leaving her.”
John turned to the doors of the trauma room, seeing Sydney watched through the window.
“Go. Be with her friend. We got her. I’ll let you know the minute she’s stable. I promise.”
Carter nodded “I want to know the second anything changes.”
Mark nodded back, “You got my word.”
John turned to leave the trauma room. He was met outside the doors by Sydney.
“John! Is she okay?” Sydney asked through her tears.
“She’s,” John started to say as he was fighting back his own tears. “She’s gonna be. She’s a fighter. C’mere,” he said as he opened his arms for her.
Sydney embraced the hug John offered, as her tears flowed. She couldn’t tell, but she swore a few tears fell from John’s face and hit the top of her head.
“Syd, baby,” Sammy said as he rounded the corner.
“Sammy!” She said as she broke John’s embrace and ran into Sammy’s arms.
“How is she?” Sammy asked, as John walked up to them.
“She’s,” John looked through the trauma room window as he signed. “She’s.”
John couldn’t speak. His brain telling him every complication that could happen. Everything that could go wrong. 50 ways he could lose you, and 50 ways you’d be perfectly fine. He didn’t know which side to listen to. He signed as he looked at his best friend, and your best friend.
“How about I take Sydney home?” Sammy suggested.
“Yeah. Will be better than waiting around here. I’ll let you know how she is,” John said as he nodded his head.
“You better!” Sydney said, as she playfully smacked his shoulder.
“We still on for Saturday?” Sammy asked.
“Yeah. Starshine has asked me three times if I got it off. She’s excited to see the movie,” John said, laughing at the memory.
“Alright. See you then. Sammy said, as he turned to walk out the doors of the emergency department. “Here,” Sammy said giving Sydney the keys. “I’ll be right there.”
Sammy turned his attention back to John.
“What’s up, Doc?” Sammy asked, causing John to chuckle.
“Keep thinking worst case scenario. I just need her to be okay,” John said.
“She will be. She’s not leaving you that easy.”
John nodded. He knew Sammy was right.
“Keep us updated, mainly Sydney.”
“Yeah, yeah I will. Thank you, Sammy.”
“Don’t mention it, brother.”
John followed Sammy out of the department, outside. He watched Sammy get into the car and the two of them drive off.
Once he was alone, John let himself feel the weight of the day. He allowed himself to feel everything. Tears - of regret, sadness, fear, and anger welled in his eyes. He punched the wall once. He punched the wall again. He spun around and let his back rest against the wall.
“Damnit. Damnit. Damnit,” he said.
“Carter.”
He looked up to see Mark.
“How-“
“She’s stable. Moving her out of the trauma room into 4.”
“Thank you! Thank you, Dr. Greene,” John said as he sprinted back into the hospital, straight to your room, and to your side.
The hum of the florescent lights filled the room. John sat there studying every inch of your face. Your eyes began to blink open and you stirred on the bed.
“It’s okay, Starshine. I’m right here baby,” John said as he slowly started stroking his hand along your hairline to comfort you.
“John?” You said, your voice hoarse.
“Yeah, I’m right here Starshine.”
You blinked a few more times before your eyes landed on his face. His eyes were red and his under eyes slightly swollen, a side affect of the tears he had been shedding. His newly grown beard wild, from him running his hands over his face.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Starshine.”
“I didn’t have my pen, I started the fight with you this morning -“
“I’m sorry Starshine.”
“No John, I’m sorry. I let my insecurities-“
“Hey, baby, it’s okay Starshine,” John said as he moved a stray piece of your hair back into place. “Those insecurities are lies. I love you, and only you. No matter why anyone says ok? You, you’re everything to me, and I’m sorry I made you doubt that, even for a second. I love you. And I don’t care what anyone else says, or thinks.”
“What about Gamma? What about the dinner? John, what time-“
“Especially Gamma. Who, when I called her and told her we wouldn’t be attending tonight wanted me to tell you she hopes you’re okay.”
You laughed. “She doesn’t even like me.”
“She likes you. She just…has her own way of showing it,” John said as he shook his head.
“Did I freak Sydney and Sammy out?”
“It was nothing Sammy hadn’t seen before. Sydney? She was shaken, and worried.”
The mention of your friends reminded John to send a quick text with an update on your condition.
“Well, look who’s up?” Haleh said as she walked into the room. “How you feeling, sweetheart?”
You smiled weakly as a response. You turned your attention back to John.
“John?”
He turned his head to look at you.
“Will I be able to go home soon?” You asked.
“Yeah. Greene will probably wait until the IV is done. Probably about a half hour.”
You sighed. “Isn’t that like three hours hospital time?” You asked as you laughed.
John shook his head, as he laughed with you. “Naw. Maybe an hour, tops.”
Soon, you were being discharged.
“I’m gonna move the Jeep up, wait here okay?” John said as he kissed you and walked out the doors into the rain.
You waited and looked around at the chaos of County General ER. You had no idea how John did this all day. You could never.
Everytime one of John’s colleagues passed by, they told you they were glad you were okay. Some you knew, some you didn’t. Some called you by name, some didn’t.
John ran back in - his hair damp from the rain.
“Ready?” He asked. You nodded and took his hand and you walked out the doors. John opened the jeep door for you. You got in and he ran to the drivers side to get in and soon, the two of you were on the way home.
On the drive home, the two of you ran into a classic stand still Chicago traffic jam.
“Should’ve tried to go around this,” John said. “Sorry Starshine. I know you just want to get home.”
“Home is where I’m at with you,” you said, as you rested a hand on his leg.
John looked at you. He slightly tilted his head as he smiled. The next four words he spoke came as a shock.
“Will you marry me?”
You laughed thinking he was joking. “Did you just propose to me in the Jeep, in a traffic jam on North Ave?”
John didn’t answer, he just put the Jeep in park. “Get out.”
“What?” You asked.
John opened the center console, getting something you couldn’t make out, as he spoke again. “Come on, get out.”
John opened his door and got out of the car. He made it over to your side and opened the door, “C’mon, Starshine.”
You unhooked your seatbelt, and got out of the car.
“Are you crazy? What are you doing?” You asked, in the pouring down rain, as you followed John to the sidewalk next to the Jeep.
“Absolutely. Crazy about you.”
John dropped to one knee.
“What are you-“ Your question was cut off when John started to speak.
“Starshine, I love you. And I never want to know what it feels like to wake up without you by my side. Make me the happiest man in Chicago,” he pulled out a small box and opened it - revealing the most beautiful and probably the most expensive ring you had ever seen. “Be mine forever. Starshine, will you marry me?”
You stood there in the rain, unsure if the wetness on your face was from tears or the raindrops. You looked at John. You were left speechless at first. You slowly nodded your head. “Yes. Yes John. Yes I will marry you.”
“Thank God,” John said as he slipped the ring on your finger. He stood up and wrapped his arms around you. “I love you, Starshine.”
“I love you too, John.”
The two of you shared a kiss, as the rain started to subside. You were still getting use to the tickle of his beard against your face as your hands moved to John’s hair, as his gripped your hips. Traffic began moving again. Car moving and beeping as they had to weave in and out of traffic to go around John’s parked Jeep.
When the two of you pulled away, lips swollen and gasping for air. You were smiling at each other.
“What do you say we take this celebration home?” John asked.
Summary: During a chaotic holiday week in the ER, Carter starts acting strangely around you—showing up early, staring, and stumbling over himself—until Carol and Susan point out the obvious: he’s completely in love with you, and you secretly feel the same. Everything becomes clear at the Secret Santa exchange.
Tags: Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Everyone Sees it but Them, Public First Kiss
divider by mikeykuns
The first time you notice something's off with Carter, it's a Tuesday morning during shift change. He's standing at the admit desk, staring at you with an intensity that makes you self-conscious, but the moment you look up from the chart you're updating, he quickly diverts his eyes to the patient board, pretending to study it with sudden fascination.
"Carter, you're not even on for another hour," you say, glancing at the clock. "Why are you here so early?"
He fumbles with his stethoscope, nearly dropping it. "I, uh... wanted to review some cases. Get a head start. You know how it is."
You do know how it is, but Carter's never been the type to show up an hour early just to hang around the admit desk. Still, you shrug it off. It's the holidays, everyone's acting a little strange with the added stress and the Secret Santa exchange looming over the department.
But then it happens again on Wednesday. You're in the lounge, finally grabbing a coffee after a brutal three-hour surgery consult, and Carter walks in, sees you, and immediately freezes like a deer in headlights. His eyes go wide, and he just stands there in the doorway.
"Are you going to come in or just block the entrance?" you ask, amused despite your exhaustion.
"Right. Yes. Coming in." He moves stiffly to the coffee maker, pours himself a cup he doesn't seem to want, and hovers near the bulletin board, stealing glances at you every few seconds.
"Carter, are you okay?"
"Fine! Totally fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?" His voice cracks slightly on the last word, and he clears his throat. "How's your day going?"
"Long. Yours?"
"Also long. Very long. Extremely... long." He nods too many times, then apparently decides he's had enough of whatever this interaction is and practically flees the lounge, leaving his untouched coffee on the counter.
You stare at the abandoned cup, thoroughly confused.
By Thursday, Carol had noticed too. She sidles up to you at the nurses' station while you're charting, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, what's going on with you and Carter?"
"What? Nothing. Why?"
"Oh, come on." She leans against the counter, lowering her voice. "He's been following you around like a lost puppy for three days. Yesterday, he walked into a supply closet because he was too busy watching you walk down the hallway."
You feel heat creep up your neck. "He did not."
"He absolutely did. I saw it. Mark had to help him untangle himself from an IV pole." She's grinning now, clearly enjoying this. "It was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen, and I've watched Ross try to flirt."
"Carter's just... he's been stressed lately."
"Uh-huh. Stressed. That's what we're calling it." Carol taps her pen against your chart. "Remember last year when I was acting weird around Doug before I finally admitted I had feelings for him?"
"That was different."
"Was it though?" She raises an eyebrow. "You remember how you told me I needed to either do something about it or stop mooning around the ER like a lovesick teenager?"
You do remember. You'd been pretty direct about it, actually, over margaritas at Doc Magoo's after a particularly hellish shift. Carol had been grateful for the tough love, even if she'd thrown a napkin at you first.
"This is not the same situation," you insist.
"If you say so." But her smile suggests she knows better.
Friday afternoon, Susan joins the conspiracy. You're in the lounge again—you're starting to think you should just avoid the lounge entirely—when she walks in and immediately zeroes in on you with a knowing look.
"I heard something interesting," she says, settling into the chair across from you.
"I'm too tired for cryptic statements, Susan."
"Carter asked Mark for advice on buying a gift for someone."
Your heart does a weird little flip. "Okay?"
"A romantic gift. For someone he has feelings for but hasn't told yet." Susan's overseeing your face. "He was very specific about wanting it to be thoughtful and personal, not generic."
"That could be anyone," you say, but your voice sounds unconvincing even to your own ears.
"Could be," Susan agrees. "Except Carol saw him staring at you for a full five minutes yesterday while you were talking to a patient. He didn't even blink. It was actually kind of creepy, but also kind of sweet?"
Carol appears in the doorway as if summoned. "Are we talking about Carter's massive crush?"
"We are not—there's no crush," you protest.
"Honey." Carol sits down next to Susan, and you realize you're being tag-teamed. "I've known you for four years. We've been through hell together in this ER. Remember when that guy came in with the chainsaw injury and you held my hair back when I threw up afterward?"
"Your point?"
"My point is, I know you. And I've seen the way you look at Carter when you think no one's watching." She softens her voice. "You like him too."
You open your mouth to deny it, but the words don't come. Because she's right. You do like him. You've liked him for months now, maybe longer. You like his earnestness, his dedication, the way he really listens to patients. You like how he gets excited about diagnoses, how he's always trying to learn, how he brings in donuts for the nurses without being asked. You like his smile, rare but genuine, and the way his hair falls across his forehead when he's been running around the ER for hours.
"Oh my God," Susan says, reading your face. "You do like him."
"This is a disaster," you mutter, dropping your head into your hands.
"This is not a disaster," Carol says firmly. "This is perfect. You both like each other, you're both just too chicken to do anything about it."
"We work together. It's complicated."
"So do me and Doug," Carol points out. "So does literally everyone in this hospital who's ever dated. It's only as complicated as you make it."
Susan nods. "Plus, it's kind of romantic. Secret Santa and secret feelings? Very Hallmark movie."
"My life is not a Hallmark movie."
"It could be," Carol says with a grin. "Just wait for the gift exchange tomorrow. I have a feeling it's going to be interesting."
She's not wrong.
Saturday arrives with the kind of organized chaos that only an ER during the holidays can produce. There's a multi-car pileup on the expressway, two cases of food poisoning from a office party, and a Santa Claus with a dislocated shoulder from a mall incident. By the time the Secret Santa exchange rolls around in the early evening, you're exhausted, covered in various bodily fluids, and seriously considering just going home.
But the tradition is sacred, apparently, so you find yourself crowded into the lounge with what feels like the entire ER staff. Mark is playing Santa, wearing a hat that Weaver produced from somewhere. Doug is making jokes about his gift being "the gift of his presence." Carol is trying to organize people into some semblance of order.
And Carter is standing in the corner, looking like he might pass out.
You catch his eye across the room, and he goes pale. Actually pale. Susan, standing next to you, notices and elbows you gently.
"He looks terrified," she whispers.
"Maybe he got stuck with Kerry for Secret Santa," you whisper back.
But then Mark starts calling names, and people begin exchanging gifts. There's laughter, some gag gifts, and some genuinely thoughtful ones. Carol gets a beautiful scarf that makes her tear up a little. Doug receives a book called "Feelings for Dummies" that makes everyone laugh. Mark gets fancy coffee that he immediately opens and starts brewing.
Then Mark calls your name.
Your stomach flips. You make your way to the front of the room, hyperaware of everyone watching. Mark hands you a wrapped package—not large, but carefully done, with neat corners and a real ribbon, not the curling kind from a roll.
"Secret Santa says this is for you," Mark says with a smile that seems to know more than it should.
You look around the room, trying to figure out who drew your name, and your eyes land on Carter. He's gripping his coffee cup so hard his knuckles are white, and he's staring at you with an expression of such naked hope and terror that your breath catches.
Oh.
Your hands shake slightly as you unwrap the gift. The paper falls away to reveal a book—not just any book, but a first edition of your favorite novel, the one you mentioned once, months ago, in passing during a quiet moment at the admit desk. You'd been talking about comfort reads, about the books you return to when the world feels too heavy, and you'd mentioned this one. You can't believe he remembered.
But it's not just the book. Tucked inside is a bookmark, clearly handmade, with a quote from the novel carefully written in what you recognize as Carter's precise handwriting. Below the quote, he's written: "For the quiet moments between the chaos. -J.C."
Your eyes blur with tears. It's so thoughtful, so personal, so perfectly chosen that you can't quite process it. This isn't a generic gift. This is someone paying attention, someone who listens, someone who cares.
You look up, and Carter is watching you with barely concealed anxiety. The room has gone quiet, everyone sensing something significant is happening.
"Carter?" you say softly.
He sets down his coffee cup and crosses the room, and suddenly you're standing face to face, the book clutched to your chest, and everyone else might as well not exist.
"I hope it's okay," he says, his voice low and rushed. "I know it's maybe too much for Secret Santa, but when I saw it at the bookstore, I just—I remembered you talking about it, and I thought—I mean, I wanted—" He stops, takes a breath, runs a hand through his hair in that nervous gesture you've come to recognize. "I'm your Secret Santa. Obviously. You probably figured that out."
"Carter—"
"And I know this is probably not the right time or place, and we work together, and there are all these reasons why this is complicated, but I just—" He's rambling now, the words tumbling out like he can't stop them. "I really like you. I have for a while now. Months, actually. Maybe longer. And I know I've been acting weird lately, everyone's probably noticed, I walked into a supply closet the other day because I was distracted watching you, which Mark will probably never let me live down—"
"You really did that?" you interrupt, fighting a smile.
"So you heard about that." He winces. "Great. That's... great. But yes, I did, and it's because I can't seem to think straight when you're around, and I've been trying to figure out how to tell you, and then I drew your name for Secret Santa, and it felt like maybe it was a sign, or at least an opportunity, and—" He stops abruptly, seeming to realize he's been talking for a while. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling. I do that when I'm nervous."
"I've noticed," you say softly. Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure he can hear it. "Carter, this gift is... it's perfect. It's the most thoughtful thing anyone's ever given me."
His face lights up with hope. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You take a breath, aware that everyone in the lounge is watching but finding you don't really care. "And for the record, I like you too. I have for a while."
"You—really?" He looks stunned, like this possibility never occurred to him.
"Really. I thought I was being obvious about it, actually. Carol and Susan certainly figured it out."
"We did!" Carol calls from somewhere behind you, and there's scattered laughter.
Carter doesn't seem to hear her. He's staring at you like you've just told him he won the lottery. "I can't believe—I mean, I hoped, but I didn't think—" He stops, shakes his head, and suddenly he's smiling, really smiling, and it transforms his whole face. "Can I take you to dinner? After shift? Or before shift? Or literally any time you're free?"
"Yes," you say, and you're smiling too, so wide your cheeks hurt. "Any of those times. All of those times."
"Okay. Good. That's—that's really good." He's still smiling, and he takes a small step closer, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, close enough that you can smell his cologne mixed with the antiseptic smell that clings to everyone in the ER. "Is it okay if I—can I kiss you? Is that—is this okay?"
Your answer is to close the distance between you, rising up on your toes to press your lips to his. For a moment, he freezes in surprise, but then his hands come up to cup your face, gentle and sure, and he's kissing you back with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, a question and an answer all at once. But then his fingers slide into your hair, and you grip the front of his lab coat, and the kiss deepens into something that feels like a promise. He tastes like coffee and mint, and the way he holds you—like you're precious, like you're something to be treasured—makes your heart swell.
When you finally break apart, breathless, the lounge erupts in cheers and applause. Carter's face is flushed, his lips slightly swollen, and he's looking at you with such open adoration that you feel heat flood your cheeks.
"Best Secret Santa ever," Doug calls out, and everyone laughs.
Carter ignores them all, his attention focused entirely on you. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.
"Me too," you admit.
"Yeah?" That hopeful note is back in his voice, like he still can't quite believe this is real.
"Yeah." You lean into his touch, the book still clutched between you. "Thank you for the gift. For paying attention. For being brave enough to say something."
"Thank you for not running away when I started rambling," he says with a self-deprecating smile. "I know I can be a lot sometimes."
"You're not a lot. You're just right." You kiss him again, quick and sweet, and his smile against your lips is the best thing you've felt all day.
Around you, the party continues. Someone turns on music. Carol catches your eye and gives you a thumbs up. Susan is grinning like she just won a bet—she probably did. Mark is shaking his head with an amused smile.
But you barely notice any of it. You're too focused on Carter, on the way he's holding your hand now, his fingers laced through yours, on the way he keeps looking at you like he can't quite believe his luck.
"So," he says, "about that dinner. Are you free tonight? After shift?"
"I'm free," you confirm. "Where did you have in mind?"
"Honestly, I was so focused on the gift and working up the courage to tell you how I feel that I didn't plan past this point." He laughs, a little embarrassed. "I have no idea. Somewhere nice? Somewhere quiet where we can actually talk?"
"Anywhere is fine," you say. "As long as it's with you."
His smile could light up the entire ER. "I really like you," he says again, like he needs to make sure you know, like he's still amazed he gets to say it out loud.
"I really like you, too, Carter."
And when he kisses you again, soft and sweet and full of promise, you think that maybe Carol was right. Maybe your life is a little bit like a Hallmark movie. And maybe, just this once, that's perfectly okay.
The ER will still be chaotic tomorrow. There will still be emergencies and long shifts, and difficult cases. But right now, in this moment, with Carter's hand in yours and his smile warming you from the inside out, everything feels exactly right.
summary - robby realizes he doesn't ever want to be without you. so you decide to move in together.
a/n - I LIED. sorry, i said dennis was next, but i lied. i've been so busy lately i think i just needed to start with something short simple and fluffy. but trust dennis is coming!!! I'M CRAVING A CRISP FALL DAY SO FUCKING BAD. enjoy!
---
Robby liked to watch you. Jack said it was creepy, but you didn’t mind.
You were full of color, from the way you dressed, to the way you decorated, to your personality. It was pleasing to the eye and soul alike, like every word, smile, and movement you made left a bright rainbow streaking in its wake. You were delicate, like a flower, in your motions, but strong in your convictions.
You smelled good, too. Somehow, though they were everywhere, your apartment never held the aroma of cats. Your skin smelled like apple body wash, your sheets like citrus dew, and the air like whatever seasonally appropriate concoction you had boiling on the stove. The combination of all three seemed to smell like sunshine itself.
And your energy. The ease with which you seemed to operate. Robby, the broken down, traumatized old doctor, hardly recognized himself when he was with you. It was like you took half the weight he carried around, but somehow, it didn’t bog you down at all. You were like a mythical metal, taking in only that which made you stronger. And according to you, every experience had its merit.
The days Robby started with you were good ones. The days without, felt sour. Simply observing you in your natural habitat, getting ready, washing up, tidying, purring to your cats, was lifegiving to him. More fulfilling than any hobby he’d tried to force himself into before, at the bequest of a quickly ghosted therapist.
If he could do it with you, Robby was eager to do anything, no matter how mundane. It took the laundry from your arms to fold, took the sponge from your hand to scrub, took your feet into his lap to massage. Happily.
These were just some of the reasons Robby listed in his forty-five minute long rant explaining why moving in together would be a wonderful idea.
He didn’t just want moments in the sun. He wanted to live in the sun. Lounge to his heart’s content.
“I mean, I already spend most nights at your place anyways,” he said. “I have a key. And your neighbors know me. Eloise has totally come around to me.”
You laid over his lap. It was a balmy summer day in August, and the rain currently pounding the pavement below was the first reprieve from the stifling heat you’d had in days. The moment the clouds overtook the sky, and the first few drops tapped against the window, Robby hardened in his resolve to finally speak the words that had been on the tip of his tongue for months.
Rain reminded him of you. It had rained on your first date. Rained the day he told you he loved you, blurted it out, despite how early it seemed. You’d smiled and said it right back. It was raining again, and more than anything in that moment, he wanted you to say yes.
He hadn’t exactly given you a chance yet, though. After “I think we should move in together,” he launched immediately into his explanation, without giving you a second to formulate a response. Now, the better part of an hour later, he was finally winding down from his passionate speech. You’d listened patiently, humming and nodding, wrapped around him.
He fiddled with your stripy shorts as he ran out of words.
“Are you done?” you asked gently.
“Yes,” he said, pink in the face.
“Okay,” you said. “Let’s move in together.”
Robby pictured himself, should he have been so lucky for you to say yes, jumping to his feet with you in his arms, spinning you around, drowning you in frantic kisses. But when he heard those words from your lips, so long awaited, he collapsed under the comfortable blanket of relief and joy. All he could bring himself to do was sink into your hold, squishing his face into your warm neck. He laid on top of you, tangled in you, for hours into the night after that. You held him tight, playing with his hair, unable to stop your smiling so long as you could feel Robby’s against your skin.
The next day, you woke up bright and early to get a head start on classroom set up. As an experienced teacher, you weren’t naive enough to leave all the work until the last possible month. The school printers would have issues with all the tech people out on vacation and unable to fix them. Storage offered was often iffy, and in your second year teaching, you came in August first ready to set up, only to find that a leak had destroyed half of your decorations and supplies.
You never made that mistake again.
Robby insisted on accompanying you whenever he wasn’t working, helping to reach high places, and use his old handyman skills he gained helping his grandmother around her house. Indeed, your sticky lock hadn’t been bothering you for a while, and the top windows actually opened now.
That day, though, Robby seemed more interested in getting a jump on apartment hunting.
“You don’t like my apartment?” you asked, as he set up his laptop on your cluttered desk.
“I love your apartment,” he said, sliding on his glasses. “I hate your landlord.”
By lunch, you had cut out and laminated all twenty-six of your kid’s colorful nametags, and Robby had flagged several promising looking places to visit. It seemed simple. They were nice places. But none of them seemed quite right to Robby.
The first open house you attended, there were a pair of young huskies that howled bloody murder at the snap of a door closing, or the TV. The next, it was not enough natural light. The one after that, too much natural light.
“It’d be a workout just to get some simple privacy!” Robby argued, gesturing to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
You? You were flexible, as always. You were no stranger to shitbox apartments, what with living on a teachers salary all your adult life. You knew how to brighten a place up, even the dankest, grayest places.
Where Robby saw cramped, you saw cozy. Where he saw old and dingy, you saw charming and vintage. Where he saw ugly, you saw potential.
But it was going to be his house too, and you wanted him to be happy, just as much as he wanted you to be happy. You were quite content being dragged from showing to showing, while running out your lease with Robby by your side.
By the end of August, however, you had no choice but to start packing up. Robby kept insisting the right place would be just around the corner, and it wouldn’t serve you to renew the lease, which would expire in September. So you agreed to just move into his apartment until the “right place” decided to finally make an appearance.
And it did, about one week into the school year. You were bubble wrapping the last of your picture frames, when Robby returned from work looking much more excited than a man just off a twelve hour shift should have. He set down his things, toed off his shoes, and planted a big kiss on your lips.
“Hello,” you said.
“Hi,” he said, collapsing down next to you on the floor. “I’ve found the perfect place.”
You raised a brow.
“While you were at work?”
“Yep,” he said happily, scratching Lisa behind the ears. “An old teacher of mine is retiring, and he’s moving to Florida and selling his house. It’s an old brownstone downtown. It’s closer to the hospital and your school.”
You had to set down your tape. Living in a classic brownstone in the city had long since been a dream of yours, but you’d never be able to afford it. And in a prime spot like the one Robby was describing? It seemed too good to be true.
“That sounds… amazing,” you said truthfully.
“It is,” he said, beaming. “It will be. I promise.”
He hadn’t broken a promise yet, so you agreed to go see it that Saturday. Robby’s old teacher and his wife were very nice people, who seemed excited to move on to the next chapter in their story, away from the toxic highs and lows of medicine and the hustle and bustle of the city. The place was both everything you could have dreamed of, and your worst nightmare.
The large apartment you had in mind, which already seemed luxurious to you, was quickly blown away by the reality of the massive, three story rowhouse you explored. There was brick, and real hardwood floors, and big windows. The ensuite bathroom was ginormous, far bigger than anything you’d ever peed in before. Everything from the deck, to the open kitchen, to the ornate banisters filled you with both dread and excitement.
“It’s served us well for thirty years now,” said Mrs. Hinsen fondly. “Robby assured me it would be in the best of hands.”
“Yes, it’s very important to Sarah that it goes to someone who won’t go modernizing,” said Dr. Hinsen. “Someone who’ll care for the wood, and preserve the molding, and such.”
And you wanted to explode, because of course you wouldn’t think of tarnishing such a beauty as this. After the tour, the couple left you to discuss. Robby was watching you apprehensively.
“Tell me this isn’t perfect,” he said, watching your wide, sparkly eyes rove around the room.
“It’s perfect,” you said. “But Mikey — five bedrooms. Three stories. A deck. A fireplace. A laundry room.” He nodded. “We can’t afford this.”
“Yes, yes we can,” he said, grabbing your waist gently. “They said they’d let it go at a better price for me. And I’ve spent years saving up for something just like this.”
You bit your lip.
“You can afford it,” you said, smoothing the collar of his shirt. “But I —”
“So let me,” he interrupted. “Just let me take care of you. Please?”
You let out a breathy laugh.
“Robby, this is — this isn’t like buying me lunch, or the fancy whiteboard markers,” you said. “This is a house.”
“It’s our future,” he said softly. “Besides, if teachers were paid what they deserved, you’d be able to buy a house ten times bigger than this.”
You shook your head, but you were already tearing up. Robby rubbed his thumbs back and forth on your hips. It was a lot. It was bigger and better than anything you could have imagined. But maybe, for the first time, you didn’t have to work yourself to the bone. Because Michael was watching you with his big brown eyes, brimming with happiness, begging to do this for you.
Before you could change your mind, you were nodding.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
That time, Robby did spin you around and jump for joy.
And so began the process of moving in. You realized that you had much more stuff than you thought, but it still wasn’t enough to fill the new place. You got a lot of cardio running up and down the many sets of stairs, at your old apartment, Robby’s old apartment, and the three floors of your new house. You ordered runners for the stairs, rugs to fit spaces much bigger than your old ones could, and a real dining table with matching chairs.
The cats settled in pretty quickly, chasing each other through the halls, and looking out the windows for hours at a time. You could tell they were still getting acclimated to having this much space, and you were too. You had a bedroom, a cat room, and a craft room, and still had two more empty ones to spare.
You liked being able to decorate a front stoop that was really all yours, and you pictured sitting out with a bowl of candy on the fast approaching night of Halloween. Robby screened in the back deck so the cats could get fresh air like they’d never had before. Harry, in particular, loved it. You’d find him out there any time, night or day.
It was a dream. You pictured yourself hosting Thanksgiving dinner, and birthday parties. Your book club would finally have a steady meeting place. And yes, maybe one of the spare bedrooms would be converted to a nursery, one day.
The first really chilly October day of the season found Robby grumbling, sniffling, and sent home early with a cold. Even still, it sent a thrill through his congested chest that home meant this.
The leaves crunched underfoot as he dragged them up the steps, past the pumpkin display you set up, and through the unlocked front door. Through his clogged up nose, he was hit with the unmistakable scent of something rich and savory cooking on the stove. The lights were on, and he could hear you humming along with a Nat King Cole record. He could picture you even before you were in his sight, swaying as you stirred.
“Moony?” he called out, kicking off his boots haphazardly.
There was a clang, a pattering, and you appeared around the corner. You were wearing your usual beaming grin, along with a frilly apron, a pair of star strewn pajama pants, his hoodie, and your worn slippers.
“You’re home!”
You hopped over to bestow upon him a hug and a sweet kiss. He glanced at the clock, and saw that it was four in the afternoon. You started undressing him, taking his bag, then his sweater, then his scrub top.
“Yeah, what are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you had the spelling tests to grade?”
“I do,” you said simply, hanging up his things and steering him further inside. “I brought them home. I didn’t want you to come home and crash without eating anything.”
“How —”
“Dana called me when she decided to send you home,” you said simply.
“Meddler,” he mumbled halfheartedly.
“She cares about you,” you said. “I’m making you a stew. Go shower, I already set out comfy clothes on the bed.”
“Wait,” he said, “how was your day?”
“Good, I’ll tell you once you’re showered and full. Pip pip! Off like a bunny!”
He let the steam loosen up some of the gunk in his head, then slipped into his fleecy clothes. With the day’s stress washed off, the exhaustion was settling in. Not the frantic, nagging exhaustion being at work gave him, but the safe, warm, cozy exhaustion you brought. It was nice, because deep in his bones he knew he was safe, and this was where he would rest.
When he slouched back out to the living room, it was to find a steaming bowl of something delicious waiting for him on the coffee table, and the couch made up with bed pillows and blankets. You sat on the floor with your back to it, grading papers with concentration scrunching your face.
“Sit down, mister,” you said without looking up, jabbing a thumb behind you at the inviting set up. “And before you do anything, drink that entire glass of water.”
“Yes ma’am,” he croaked, collapsing readily, and grabbing the cup.
While he drank, Lisa wandered up to settle on his chest, purring. With protest, you scooched her down to his lap so you could replace the glass in Robby’s hands with the bowl. He still gave her some scratches in between bites.
“Good?” you asked, tucking the blanket up around him.
“Great,” he said. “Thank you, honey.”
You leaned back against his knee and kept grading, glancing backwards every so often to ensure he was still eating. It wasn’t until the bowl was completely empty that you set it aside, and pushed him back onto the stacked pillows.
“Get some rest,” you said, kissing his forehead.
“Hold on,” he said, clutching your hand with all his remaining strength. It wasn’t much, but you stayed perched next to him anyway. “You have to tell me about your day now.”
You smiled, and leaned against him. Your free hand went to his hair and began brushing it back in slow rhythmic motions.
“Alright,” you said, thinking. “Well, I think Tommy and Andre are finally friends again. They really let a silly tiff about a Kpop Demon Hunters pencil case go way too far. And I think the new book of the week is going to be The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear.”
By the time you had explained the plot of the book to him, both Robby and Lisa were fast asleep. You smiled fondly, pressed one last kiss to each of their heads, and turned back to your papers. With the roaring fire, Eloise lounging on top of the half-filled bookshelf, Harry trying to get a sniff of your dinner, and the love of your life safe and snoozing comfortably behind you, you were content.
You had to pinch yourself when you remembered that this was the norm. From now on, it would be you and your Mikey, Mikey and you, for all the years to come.
summary: bad foster parents, a call to the wrong parents and a protective Jack
warnings: mention of abandonment by parents, reader is sick again, the parents are back, non-caring foster parents, protective Jack, Andrew Cody possesses Jack for a sec (if that makes sense), confrontations, like one swear word, probably inaccurate medical things, probably inaccurate with the adoption process, kinda half proofread
a/n: and part three is finally done, was supposed to post it like two weeks ago but well some things happened in between and didn’t really get any time to write but it’s here now, only one part left, I think, might extend it to five bc I’m lowkey sad to see it end
a/n 2: I think I was too excited to write this part that it turned out bad instead but oh well
The ER was a pitt filled with crying patients and two old drunk guys, one of which Ahmad was able to restrain before a punch could be thrown at the other guy, that no doubt would have knocked his teeth out.
Feet stuck out in the pathway towards the door from patients too tired to sit properly anymore. The heat certainly didn’t help. Robby had just squeezed through the long line of people blocking the entrance to the ER when he got ambushed by Shen as soon as he pushed the doors open.
“Hey Robby!” John quickly fell into steps beside him, sipping on his — at the very least, third — Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. The brown liquid quickly disappearing while he handed Robby a tablet with a patient's chart on.
“Good morning to you too John” he wants too surprised that it took less than a minute for him to get ripped straight into work. His eyes quickly scanned the information, deducing the important parts. “What do you want me to do with this shouldn’t he be upstairs after surgery”
“Jack told me to tell you that this patient is at risk of leaving early if he doesn’t get a bed soon ,so he wants you to keep an eye out”
“Okay…” his head turns to search for his favorite nurse. “is Dana in yet?”
“Saw her talking to Lena by the locker rooms a minute ago” at John’s words Robby already deviated from their path to the nurses station.
“Jack still here?”
“Last time I shecked” any other day the slurping sound of the last drops of coffee going up the straw would have irritated Robby. But not today. Today felt for some inexplicable reason easier than his far too many bad days.
Bidding Shen goodbye while the newly made attending got dragged away by Ellis to something “he must see” Robby made his way towards the locker rooms to try and catch Dana before he had to join the morning rounds.
Stepping into the hallway towards the lockers he was met with Dana already walking in his direction.
Both fell into steps beside each other as they made their way to the nurses station. Robby pushing the door open for Dana as they stepped back into the ER. “Gloria wants to see you, something about a new sponsor” the distaste at Dana’s words clearly formed on his features. He did not want to have another conversation about sponsors and patient satisfaction scores.
“And where is she?”
“Upstairs, at the moment” she glanced up at him, putting her glasses on before she logged into the computer after rounding the desk to the opposite side of Robby. “You seen Jack yet?”
“Uhhh, no” Robby’s eyes traveled around the heads of the ER, looking for the familiar grey curls. “Where is he?”
“Pedes”
“Ah” his eyes cast over towards the direction of the pediatric room and Robby’s eyes finally settled onto Jack's stiff posture. Back leaning against the pristine white walls. Arms crossed as he stared through the glass door and into the room filled with cartoon animals. The room that held them both in a chokehold.
His heart twisted for his friend. A deep ache. He missed you too, so it must be much worse for Jack as he’d planned to adopt you.
Pushing of the desk he made his way over, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly to look down towards Jack, even if the height difference wasn’t too bad.
“Jack” he leaned against the wall beside him. Watching the kid on the bed inside, a four year old that had arrived yesterday during shift change. The kid looked a lot like you in that age when you’d first met Jack. The history on both your charts matched a lot too.
“I should of fought harder man”
“Not even a hello?”
“Hello” Jack's head tilted to the side, eyes glancing at him through his eyebrows with a slight intimidating glare that Robby had only seen directed at extra rowdy patients that had hurt one of his colleagues. He did not like being on the receiving end of it.
Robby’s hands instinctively raised in defense. “Hey man, I’m just saying, ever since the kid got rehomed you’ve been acting extra…” he paused trying to find the right word. “Grumpy?”
Jack looked away towards the four year old again, lips pressed into a thin line, while the corners of his lips moved down. The frown wasn’t obvious except for those who’d spent early mornings talking him down from roofs. “Should of tried harder” he shook his head while his head ducked down to hide the way his eyes had already started to glisten. “not just accept it, kid wanted to stay with me and I messed that up”
“Jack, just call the social worker at this point, I’m sure they’d tell you how the kid’s doing”
“I have” he couldn’t stop the glare towards Robby. Of course he’d called, tried to get information on you, how you were doing. “won’t tell me shit”
“Have you asked Kiara? Maybe she could help”
“I have, foster parents doesn’t want y/n to have contact with the people before, which… that’s just plain stupid, changed doctor and hospital too”
“If you want to talk”
“I don’t”
“Oh so I need to talk but you don’t?”
“I have a therapist” Robby’s chin tucked into his chest as he stared at Jack with a “really?” expression, head slightly tilted to the side. Yes Jack did have a therapist, but it didn’t mean he was okay. He went into crossfire in his free time after all. And sometimes a friend was a better listener than a professional.
“And how’s that working for you?”
“Haven’t gone to the roof in a month have I?”
──────────_*- 🩻 -*_──────────
Jack’s home was filled with an unsettled silence every time he got home. His steps echoing silently. No one to greet him or bid him goodbye. Just empty rooms filled with furniture that was too old and too new at the same time. He didn’t like how he couldn’t see the mop of hair sticking up from the couch. Didn’t like how there was no one running into his bedroom in the morning, tugging on his arm and begging him to make pancakes.
He’d thought he’d moved on. You’d only been with him for about a week and a half. And yet… Jack felt your absence everywhere. He didn’t know if it was normal or not for someone to feel the absence of their child so strongly. You weren’t even his child. You were only supposed to be a patient. A patient he’d cared for since toddler years.
Then taking you home after that day at the hospital. Of course he’d noticed when his home got filled with coughs that weren’t his. The pitter patter of two naked feet on the floor. Cartoons and high pitched noises playing from the tv that was normally turned off. He’d been so used to being alone that a second person even if a child added a new light into his home he’d missed since his wife. To share a space with someone he cared for. The light had spread into his eyes and even his therapist had commented on it. Because even if the quietness filled him with a peace he didn’t know what to do with, he'd realized that perhaps his late wife’s dream didn’t have to go to waste. You’d filled that void that had been gnawing at his heartstrings. With your quiet laughs and big eyes that stared at him like he hung the moon.
So maybe it wasn’t unexplainable that he felt your absence. His eyes would draw over the empty place on the shoe rack where your shoes had been. The light up kind every kid wants. He missed the jacket that he’d had to hang inside of his own that swallowed yours whole. It’s why he always tried staying at the hospital for as long as he could now. Until Robby or Dana would practically kick him out.
Stepping into his home now felt like stepping into a room stripped of its paint. The crayons he’d bought for you still laid on the coffee table, he’d put your drawings up on the fridge. Even if it brought him the feeling of longing.
He really did need to see you again.
He’d been home long enough to take a hot shower and get a quick nap before he was brought out of his sleep from his phone ringing. The vibrating noise on the kitchen counter was far too annoying when all he wanted was to sleep until he had to go back to work, and repeat.
Resting his head on the couch pillows he closed his eyes while he let his phone go to voice mail. Most of the time if it was important a second call would come through or a quick text. Not that he had many people calling him anyway… either a scammer or… it could be Robby or your social worker who’d probably had more than 30 notifications just after the first day you’d left.
Jack’s head shot up at the second call. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was about you. No matter how little of a chance there was for that, especially since that family fostered you.
The sound of his ringtone for the third time echoed in the kitchen before he’d made his way to his phone. Robby… that one ugly picture he’d taken of Robby when he was drunk lit up the screen. Said picture he’d sent to the group chat he barely acknowledged most days after Robby had been particularly tough to his residents when they’d done nothing wrong.
“Seriously man? You just kicked me out of the ER and now you’re ca-“ he was perhaps a bit annoyed still at Robby.
“It’s y/n” Robby’s voice cut through, sharp and hurried. Knowing damn well the damage his words would have on Jack.
y/n… you. His kid was at the hospital. Again. His heart practically stopped. Breath caught in his throat. Stomach churning with worry. “H-how bad?” It was a wonder he got the words out before the lump in his throat closed entirely. Clogging any sound from coming out.
“It’s pretty bad” he sounded distracted, Jack could tell, he wasn’t Robby’s emergency contact for no reason. “look, just get here and find Dana, she’ll tell you everything, I’ll do whatever I can-“ Jack could hear as someone called for Robby on the other side, something about a patient crashing. He prayed to anyone that would listen that it wasn’t you.
“Go” he wasn’t about to keep Robby from treating you. “I-I’ll be there”
“Jack” he hummed in response to Robby, already making his way to the front door.
“Drive safely, don’t need you as a patient too”
Per Robby’s words he did drive safely. Albeit faster than the speed limit allowed. If Robby said it was bad it meant really bad. And he couldn’t allow to miss saying goodbye if the worst were to happen.
The thought struck. Sudden. Achingly loud. What if it was that serious. What if you were actively dying. He would never hear your laughter again. Never hear the way you tried your best to sing along to the intro of your favorite cartoon.
His last memory would of been you crying in his arms. Hitting him while simultaneously trying to anchor yourself to him. You hadn’t wanted to leave and go into a a strangers home. Jack knew you couldn’t fully understand everything that had happened that month. From your parents abandoning you to living with him. Getting ripped away. No one should have to deal with it. And yet you had. He wouldn’t let that be his last memory of you. Not the sobs that had echoed while he helped you put your shoes on since you wouldn’t let go of him. Knuckles turning lighter from the death grip you kept on his shirt. How you’d tucked your face into his neck, his own tucked into your hair. He’d tried his best not to cry that day. But your reaction, still vivid in his mind, the way you’d tried to stay with him till your body grew tired and the social worker had grabbed you forcefully on the arm. He’d much more prefer the morning before to be his last memory if it was inevitable. You’d helped him with breakfast. He’d poured the batter onto the frying pan and given you space to pour the colored batter into the round-ish pancakes that was slowly forming bubbles. The first had been horrible, a mess of colored drops until you’d gotten the hang of it and drawn a wonky looking heart with the green batter. He’d cleaned up the mess on the counter while you enjoyed your pancakes. The calm before the storm as some say.
Or perhaps more like a tsunami of emotions that crashed into him. He didn’t even park the car correctly before he was out and already making his way towards the ER. Everyone practically parting to avoid his quick strides as he made his way straight towards the nurses station.
Dana had clocked him as soon as he stepped inside the ER. She’d swatched him make eye contact with Robby in the trauma room. Her feet already moved intentionally towards Jack. An arm reaching out just in time to stop him from reaching the trauma room door.
“What- is-“ he hadn’t felt on the verge of a panic attack since his first shift after his wife died and a veteran’s wife had come in on a gurney barely breathing.
“Breathe Jack, Robby’s got it, kid’s stable”
“Stable” his eyes drifted towards the monitors, beeping at a normal rhythm. The lines going up and down in zigzags instead of the frightening straight line he never wanted to witness on the monitors hooked to you.
Jack could catch Dana’s nod from the corner of his eyes. “Stable” she repeats. “Kid’s gonna be alright”
“What happened-“ his brows knit as he looks around but his eyes doesn’t catch onto a single worried expression directed your way. “Where’s the foster parents?”
“Don’t know, one of the new hired nurses called the emergency contacts on file, but got no answer, he’s still trying to reach them, called the social worker in the meantime, they’d try to get into contact with the foster parents too”
“Okay” his head moves up and down as if he’s forcing himself to respond in some way, taking a calming breath. Or at least trying to as his gaze moves down towards Dana. “Do you, do you know what happened?”
“Concussion from falling and landing awkwardly, kid had a seizure in the ambulance they just got it to stop” she nods towards Robby. “Now you take a deep breath. You aren’t good to anyone like this”
Jack knew Dana didn’t mean it in a mean way. When you’d wake up from the sedative’s running out of your system it wouldn’t be good if Jack looked scared or panicked. It’d most probably make you panic. “Do we know why y/n collapsed?”
“Probably from the high fever” Jack’s brows furrowed at that. High fever? And you’d been at school, didn’t your foster parents know? Something about this whole situation didn’t sit right with him.
“Got a private room ready?” His eyes fell back onto you on the hospital bed, red covered the area around your head on the bed. No doubt you’d hit it and it had started bleeding. Hence the concussion and then the seizure. Which then the seizure could also be from the high fever that kept your body extremely warm. Robby didn’t even glance his way, too focused on you.
Dana hums in response. Momentarily looking towards you before her eyes fell back onto Jack in worry. She’d never seen him this uneasy before. “Kid’s gonna pull through Jack, Robby wouldn’t let anything else happen”
“I know” he mumbled, not able to get the words out louder as the lump formed back in his throat. If there was anyone but himself that he trusted to care for you it was Robby.
It’d taken another hour before they’d wheeled you into one of the private rooms. Which they were right to do since Jack would of gone on a rampant, or perhaps not but he’d make it everyone’s problem until you’d gotten a private room where he could dim the lights just like you preferred it. Since the white hospital walls wouldn’t be as blinding from the bright cold light hitting them.
Jack was sitting by your bed. Shifting to try and force his stiff posture into a more comfortable position on the chair. The only sound came from the monitors they still had you hooked up to. Turns out you’d had such a high fever that you’d fainted and in the fall had landed head first into a metal bench with full force.
There’d been no way the fever had appeared out of nowhere during the day either. It was far too high for that. It left Jack with the bitter thought that your “new parents” had forced you to school while barely being able to function properly.
To him they weren’t any better than your biological parents.
Because of their ignorance of your health you’d ended up in a way worse situation. They’d had to put stitches on the gaping wound on your head, luckily they couldn’t see any major brain injuries on the scans they’d taken before leaving you to wake up in the room you now resided in.
Much to Jack’s dismay you had yet to wake up. And it’d probably stay that way for a while, your body needed rest as well as your brain after the seizure. But at least the room was quiet enough to let him think without getting disturbed. And since the room was at the very end of the hallway in the ER the bustling sound that always seemed to inhabit the ER didn’t intrude on the quietness. Which perhaps also wasn’t that good since Jack’s brain was playing football with the thoughts bouncing back and forth.
He’d already decided to try and somehow get custody over you. He doubted when the social worker found out that your foster parents had let you go to school with a high fever she’d be particularly happy about it. Despite her flaws and cold attitude she did care for the children she had to find placements for. Even if sometimes what she thought was best for a child wasn’t actually the right decision. Which clearly this time it hadn’t been. Not when they had yet to get into contact with the family too.
No Jack couldn’t let you go back to them. He’d beg on his knees if he had to. You deserved someone who cared after what your parents did. Someone who could take care of you when you were sick. He could be that person for you, he’d even switch to day shifts if that’s what it took to get custody of you again.
His head snapped to your hand as soon as he saw it twitch out of the corner of his eye. Already moving a hand to gently keep you laying down as you tried to move. Your fingers already trying to remove the IV that was attached uncomfortably on your arm.
Jack pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he tutted with a shake of his head. His free hand gently encased yours to stop your movements. “It’s just for the fever kid, to make you feel better”
Despite his words you tried again. Not liking the feeling of the light pressure it gave on your arm. Jack’s brow raised in slight amusement, the corner of his lip moving up despite the situation. It seemed as if you hadn’t changed too much in the last couple of months.
“Nuhu” he shook his head once more. Glancing at the monitor and the IV before he settled himself in the uncomfortable stiff chair again. Keeping his hands around yours to stop your fiddling with the hospital equipment.
He watched your eyes drop despite having just woken up. “Tired?”
You nod silently, not ready to speak to him yet. Seeing him again. The room he’d no doubt dimmed for you. Him in the same chair, you in the same bed as the week before he’d abandoned you. Technically you knew that wasn’t what and happened but it felt all the same.
Jack frowned. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to see you again. For either of you. But he’d expected some sort of reaction instead of a quiet stare and nod. Perhaps anger or tears, but you showed none of that. If he thought rationally it was probably because you were sick and your body too tired to actually comprehend every emotion you felt at being in his care again. But his mind was a minefield. Logic had gone out the window. One wrong step and he’d explode. One wrong step and his eyes would water as the lump in his throat would burst.
He was about to speak before you beat him to it. “You let them take me” your voice weaker than usual.
His eyes cast down. He’d seen the way your eyes had glossed over. “I didn’t have a choice”
“But you said I could stay with you, why couldn’t I stay with you? Didn’t- didn’t you want me?” Your lower lip catches between your upper teeth and lip. Eyes casting down to your fingers, anxiously fiddling with a loose thread on the hospital blanket.
“No, no, no kid” he felt his heart drop. What had they told you to make you think that? He moved closer without thinking. Hands gently cupping your face, thumb gently moving over your forehead as if to massage the headache he knew you had away. “I was planning on adopting you, I- I wasn’t quick enough that’s all” he’d been a coward, that was what it’d been from the beginning. He’d been scared to adopt you. Scared he’d mess you up more than your parents' actions had already done. According to himself he wasn’t father material. If only he’d listen to other people more often. “That day… the day I got the call about your new home I was gonna call your social worker, work out the logistics and paperwork’s, everything I needed to do to adopt you, they wouldn’t listen when I told them you wanted to stay with me, they- it’d already been decided, I tried to keep you with me I swear”
“They said you didn’t want me”
“Who?” Anger set in his jaw, even if he tried to keep a gentle expression for you. Why would anyone tell you that when they knew it wasn’t true?
“The new family” Jack's heart almost broke at your sniffle. “They said you were glad to get rid of me”
“That’s not true kid, you know that right?” By the quietness that filled the room he knew you didn’t know. They’d filled your ears with lies until you believed it. And perhaps it hadn’t been hard since your biological parents abandoned you. They didn’t want you. Why would you believe Jack wanted you? That anyone did. “Anything else they’d say? Do?”
“I told them I was sick… t-they don’t wanna listen, they think I fake it, i promise I’m not” you sniffle again.
“I know your not kiddo, I’m your doctor remember? I know these things” he tries to give you a reassuring smile. “What else did they say?”
“Mrs. Johnson said they knew about me being sick a lot, I don’t think they care” your hands move up to rub at your eyes. Already becoming red and irritated. “They keep sending me to school. Even when I have the dangerous number you told me about, that’s, that’s what they did today, I didn’t wanna go, but my new sister got angry cause I would stay at home and she couldn’t, so they forced me after giving me the disgusting liquid medicine on the spoon” you scrunch your nose at the thought, a shudder running down your spine. Jack had better medicine. Not that liquid thing that tasted horrible even after trying to wash the taste away with water. You’d even tried with juice but it’d just made the taste way worse.
He had to duck his head to not show you the way his eyes darkened “How about this? As soon as your social worker gets here I’ll talk to her, find a lawyer, find a way to get you to come back home with me, you’d like that right?”
Relief filled him as you started to nod with a hint of a smile. He knew it’d be a long road ahead. Whether he got custody or not. You’d either stay put with a family that didn’t care for your needs or go with Jack and struggle with fitting into his life. You’d have to fit sharp edged pieces into a puzzle with soft edges. Learning to trust him again without wondering if you’d be removed from his care again. If your needs would be met or not. Jack vowed to do everything in his power to give you everything you needed and more.
Your eyes dropped again. Blinking to keep awake.
“Get some rest kid” he stood from the chair. “I’ll get you something easy to eat”
“Y-you’ll come back right?” Jack hated how small your voice was. How the words were tinged with worry and your eyes looking at him widely with fear. As if you’re truly believed he’d disappear by a gust of wind.
“I’ll just be gone a minute, I’ll be back when you wake up, promise” he paused. Thinking back to what he’d been told by a therapist once (not his own). “And if I’m not back in a minute I’ll have to come back anyway to get this back” he held out his dog tags to you. Since he wasn’t really allowed to wear it around his neck in case a patient would grab it when he’d work he’d gotten used to carrying them in his pockets instead.
You took it carefully. Inspecting the shiny metal with “Jack Abbot” engraved in it. “What is it?” Your thumb gently moved over the words feeling the dents on both sides of the flat metal pieces.
“When you join the military you get one of those, I used to be a medic, help people who got hurt in war” he tried to simplify it for you. “But that was before you were born”
“War isn’t nice”
A grin spread on his face. “No it’s not, get some rest, and don’t lose it okay?” He nods towards the dog tags. Watching you nod eagerly before he leaves the room after making sure one last time you were okay.
Jack hadn’t even made it two steps outside your room before he got ambushed by Robby, who tried his damn best to block Jack’s view of the ER.
“Now don’t be mad” Robby’s words made Jack’s brows knit.
“What do you mean do-“ Robby was forced to move when a nurse rolling a gurney past them with a writhing patient on. Meaning Jack got a clear sight of the two people marching towards him with not one ounce of guilt in their steps. “What the fuck”
His eyes narrowed as he took in your parents. Face twisting into anger that bubbled up from deep inside his chest. The audacity of them to show up was enough for him to force a glare onto them.
He met them halfway down the corridor. Arms crossed. Murderous glare steeled onto his face in plain sight for anyone who’d turn their heads to watch the commotion.
“What are you doing here?”
“We got a call, that y/n sick again, the voicenote said it was really bad” oh how Jack hated how your dad acted as if he had all the rights to care about you now.
Jack had to curse the nurse who’s accidentally contacted them. “They must of called the wrong number then, you don’t have the right anymore to be in the room alone with y/n”
Your mom scoffed. “We’re the parents here” she tried to walk past him. Trying to push him away. Her heels clicking against the floor.
“Woah woah woah” the contact between your mom and Jack's hand was enough to stop her in her tracks. The security guards Robby had signaled for already making their way over at the commotion that was quickly escalating. “Your not coming inside” he took a few steps back to block the door to your room. As if he was the brick wall protecting the kid from the big bad wolves.
“It’s our child”
“No” the way his glare hardened made your parents shift uncomfortably. If looks could kill they’d be rotting in hell already. “You’re not seeing y/n and that’s final”
“We have a right to-“
“You lost that right when you left your child abandoned at a hospital”
“W-we didn’t abandon-“
“You didn’t? right then, leaving a kid in a waiting room for a whole day without supervision and not being seen for months isn’t child abandonment, it’s just a vacation right” his upper lip lifted in disgust at your parents mindset. How could they even justify leaving you for months. And now they came back out of guilt or shame. Coming back with the mindset that they’d done nothing wrong when deep down they knew they had. They just didn’t want to admit it. Jack almost wanted to strangle them but that wouldn’t exactly be in your best interest.
By now Ahmad had gathered what was going on. And along with the other security guard both pushed the parents back from Jack, leading them down the corridor whilst they threw protests at them. Almost demanding that they see you, their baby.
Jack huffed as he watched them get led away. He’d almost hoped the dad with his angry look and twitching fingers would have made a swing at him so he had an excuse to do the same back.
Uncrossing his arms he tried to relax his posture that had stiffened once he’d seen your parents. Trying his best to put on a calm front he took a deep breath before turning around to your door. All thoughts of getting you something to eat flied out the window. He'd much prefer staying in your room until you got released. To make sure your parents didn’t sneak in, or in case your foster parents arrived to take you home before he could give them his piece of mind. If Dana had been there she’d jokingly call him your guard dog.
“No” Robby dragged out the o as he stopped Jack in his tracks from re-entering your room. Shaking his head he steered Jack in the direction of the cafeteria. “Kid needs rest Jack, I promise you we won’t let anyone enter, kid’ll probably wake up as soon as you go inside” it was something bit Jack and Robby had noticed over the years you’d been at the hospital. You never slept as deep as kids usually did. “Besides y/n kept asking for you after we stopped the seizure, before the sedative”
Oh… you’d asked for him?
“Go get the food and I’ll tell the social worker if she arrives before you to find you”
He hesitated before a gentle nudge from Robby got him to walk again. This time not to your room but the cafeteria.
When he made it back up to the ER your foster parents were still nowhere in sight. He as gently as humanly possible pushed the door handle down. Almost tip toeing into the room to not disturb your sleeping form. Putting the brown paper bag on the floor, his eyes focused back on you. Eyelids closed, expression gentle as small deep puffs of air left you. He truly was about to become a dad wasn’t he?
Head falling into his hands he let out a deep sigh. He didn’t know what he was doing. All he knew was that he wasn’t about to let you down again. You’d come with him this time around. He’d already drafted a mail in his head about changing to day shifts. It’s what the social worker had said would help him in getting custody so that’s what he was going to do. Offer the best chances of getting you relocated back to him. Just like you wanted.
He’d fix up a room for you. A proper one. Change his coat racket so yours would fit right in with his. He’d get you every coloring book until your little heart was content. Fix any streaming sight so you could watch everything you liked. He’d make it right this time around. Show everyone why he’d be the right fit for you. Not only because it was your wish but because Jack didn’t want you to go through everything again.
Hearing a gentle knock on the other side of the door his gaze shifted reluctantly from your peaceful face. He wished you’d always look like that way, wished no tears would roll down your cheeks again while loud wails left you in despair.
He rose from the chair as soon as he saw the woman outside your door. Nodding his head towards her direction she got the memo and let Jack step out. Neither wanting to accidentally wake you up.
“Mr Abbot” she gave a kind thin lipped smile.
“Mrs. Johnson” he smiled politely back. Although he didn’t feel like it as he reconnected with the memory of their last meeting. She could tell by the way his lips movements were far too forced to hide properly behind his normally smooth and charming smile.
“I know our last time wasn’t pleasant for you” that was one way to word it when you’d gotten ripped from his arms crying and screaming at Mrs. Johnson to let you stay with the doctor. “But with this new light on this case I’d like to ask you once more if you could resume your care over-“
“Yes” he didn’t waste a second. He’d already made up his mind a long time ago.
“You do understand what this will entail, correct?”
“I want to adopt” there was no doubt in his eyes. Mrs. Johnson could see the genuine care in his eyes, the hope that filled every corner of his face, from the upturn of his lips to the way his brows drew slightly together as if waiting for her to say no. “I mean… if that’s possible”
“It certainly is Jack” she smiled genuinely this time.
“What about the foster parents?”
Her face darkened. Eyes turning slightly cold. Expression grim. “They aren’t coming, I managed to reach the father but he said they couldn’t come because their biological daughter had a dance recital they had to be at” the distaste in the woman’s and Jack's face mirrored each other to the T. “Which quite frankly makes them unqualified for y/n, a sick kid needs someone who’ll show up no matter what, not someone who sends them to school with a dangerously high fever” so she’d heard about that, good.
“Kid doesn’t like them”
“Y/n told me so after the first week, I thought it was just anxiety over a new home, strange people, new school, I see know I was wrong”
“Better late than never” Jack’s words were muttered quietly under his breath. As if not meaning for her to hear but also not caring if she did.
“If it is of any consolation I am very sorry for not taking what y/n wanted into account, and from tearing y/n away from you when you were already a good match”
“Kid will stay with me then?”
“Yes, we’ll have to start the full process, but yes, y/n can go home with you as soon as the doctor confirms the release.
Jack nodded. A sort of ease settling into him. Despite being mad about your new foster home clearly favoring their own child despite having reassured the social worker they were more than ready for you being sick a lot, he felt the anger rinse out of him just as quickly as it had appeared. “Can we start now?”
Mrs. Johnson’s brows lifted in surprise. Clearly she underestimated how willing Jack was to take care of you. It made more guilt seep into her. “Let me make some calls and I can get you started”
Finally. Finally Jack let out a breath of relief. Turning around his eyes landed on the four year old still in pedes. The room you’d spent half your childhood in, pointing at the cartoon animals while trying to sound them out. It always sounded terribly wrong but he’d always praise you nonetheless.
His eyes moved back to you through the small window of the door. You slept just as peacefully as the toddler in the other room. He couldn’t help but to smile as he remembered the first time he’d met you.
Stepping silently back into your little sanctuary he settled on the chair again. This time closer as he let his hand encase yours. His body warmth and your feverish warmth tangled together as he let himself finally relax. Caressing your hand in soft gentle movements while you dreamt of something far better than the nightmares you’d had the first week of living with him.
The nightmares had reminded him a tad bit of your first time staying more than a day at the hospital. You had a nightmare back then too. Your face had scrunched up eyes snapping up in fear while he’d been beside you. He’d had his glasses on while typing on the computer. Your parents had stepped out momentarily to get home and take a shower. Jack had offered to keep an eye on you. Scared eyes had looked up at him with tears running down your cheeks and he’d gently sat down beside you on the hospital bed. Telling a random story he came up with to try and distract you. It’d worked since a second later you were back asleep. As soon as he’d noticed he’d tucked the blanket he’d snatched from the staff’s room snuggly around you. Tucking your plushie that you’d always bring with you at that age back under your arms. The loose threads of the plushie from you hugging it too tightly tickling your cheek as you squished it closer in your sleep.
Perhaps Jack had always cared more about you than he should. More than he did for other patients.
Maybe you’d always been his kid. Even back then when you were four and your parents cared more about you than money.
