Hey y'all. I realized it's been a minute since I posted a chapter. Honestly, I'm probably 3k words away from finishing the story entirely *for now*.
This does not mean theres 3k words between you and the actual ending. I always seem to write the ending and then have to meet the two pieces together. The last 2 chapters are always the hardest for me, not only to write but ensure the story is cohesive. Hopefully I will have the next chapter out this weekend, I just don't want to write hot garbage. If I wanted to write hot garbage, I'd let AI do it like these skanks out here in the world.
This fic may include the following: Blood, injuries of all shapes and sizes, descriptions of surgery, death, deceased persons, situations of sexual abuse, physical abuse, psychiatric issues and all the other horrific and/or hilarious shit you get to see as a healthcare worker. If you thought The Pitt was too graphic, this isn’t for you. This is the only warning you will receive, there will be no chapter by chapter warnings. In the words of Sweet Brown 'Ain't nobody got time for that.'
Also *new* warning: MDNI, Smut. You're welcome.
Cam has never been a good sleeper. As a young child, her mother would rage at her for getting up out of bed. Cam learned quickly it was better to be silent, mastering the art of sliding out of the bedroom she shared with Maureen to read in the living room, play solitaire by herself or when she was older, stealing her brother’s game boy. It was part of the reason that night shift attracted Cam so much; she never slept much at night, so she might as well make extra money with shift-differential pay.
Cam usually wakes up two or three times before her alarm around four in the evening, but she knows it’s later by the orange light seeping into the room in the gap between the curtains. She rolls over, reeling at her sleeping heavily, when she sees the rumpled side of the bed that contained Jack hours before. Her heart aches slightly, realizing he left, but another part of her awakens when she realizes the scent of him is on her bed. Cam has to pull herself out of the bed, throwing a pair of opaque pants and t-shirt on and heading downstairs. She heads into the kitchen, seeing the coffee pot is on and warm. Cam shuffles into the living room, and sees him. Jack is outside, the hood of her car open, leaning on the fenders. She slides on a pair of sandals, stepping out onto the porch over to the car, which is running.
“You got it fixed?” Cam asks as Jack closes the hood of her car.
“The battery was dead. The light in the trunk was switched on.” Jack explains, taking the keys from his own car, which is pulled up close to her Mini.
“I didn’t know you were so mechanically inclined.” Cam grins at him, unsure if she's more relieved that he hadn’t left or her car is running.
“I’m not. If it wasn’t a battery or a flat tire I’m useless.” Jack says with a smirk.
“Do you need to head to work soon? Or do you want to stay for breakfast?” Cam offers, heart now thundering against her sternum.
“I can stay for breakfast.” Jack says, now cutting the engine of her car and handing her back her keys.
Jack sits at the dinette set, in the kitchen as Cam rummages through the cupboards and refrigerator.
“Uhh, I don’t have any eggs. I can do…no, I’m out of milk. Uh. Shit.” Cam mumbles, leaning down into the open freezer. She turns back to see Jack with that small little smirk on his face, making her blush. “What? She asks, standing.
“Just enjoying the view.” Jack demures, making Cam scoff. She sits beside him at the dinette, slouching.
“I can make fried rice, and spaghetti." Cam says with a chuckle, running a hand through her hair.
“What if we did something else?” Jack asks, stirring his coffee with the spoon sitting in the cup.
“I mean, I can order breakfast. We could go to DeLucas…” Cam lists, but Jack’s expression looks serious, making Cam stop and furrow her brow.
“Do you want to go back upstairs?” Jack asks softly, looking up from fussing with his coffee cup.
“Oh, if you’re tired, you should for sure go back upstairs. You don’t need…Oh.” Cam stops talking, realizing that Jack’s hesitation was not from fatigue.
“We could go out to breakfast, if you want.” Jack says quickly, leaning back in his chair.
“No. It’s not that. I just…Yeah, sure. We should go upstairs.” Cam says, her voice developing a small tremor. She stands quickly, the dinette chairs rubberized feet screeching across the vintage linoleum. Cam’s face feels hot as she heads towards her bedroom, like her grandmother is going to suddenly appear and ask her why she’s taking a boy upstairs. Jack holds the door for her, and she walks up the steps first, her hands starting to shake as she holds onto the bannister.
She reaches her bedroom, the sheets and blankets still a rumpled heap in the middle of the bed. Cam is sweating, so she tosses the blankets off the bed onto the floor before sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“I’m going to take off my prosthesis. It can…get in the way sometimes.” Jack explains haltingly.
“Okay.” Cam says softly. Jack starts to take off his pants, and Cam averts her gaze from him. She shimmies off her own in response, folding them neatly for some foolish reason, despite the fact Cam is more the type to ditch them to her ankles and fling them across the room toward the hamper. She shimmies off her shirt, tossing it on the floor this time. Cam fights the urge to cover herself up, sitting exposed on the edge of her bed.
“What do you want, Cam?” Jack asks softly.
“I thought me taking off my pants was an indicator.” Cam snorts, although she’s breathless from nerves. She turns to look at him as he sits at the foot of the bed.
“What do you like?” Jack asks, taking off his shirt. Cam gawks at him, the freckles and brawn of his shoulders and chest. She’s grateful he doesn’t have visible abs at least, which would make her more nervous than she is now.
“I’ll be honest, it’s been, uh, a long while.” Cam mumbles, sliding onto the bed, no longer resisting the urge and grabbing a sheet to cover her body. Jack’s still in his underwear, so Cam keeps her bra and underwear on. She wishes she had worn something more exciting, something with color, lace or frill, but it’s all cotton and plain, her bra just a worn out bralette with no underwire.
“It’s been over two years for me, I understand.” Jack says nervously, his thumb turning his wedding band.
“I think it’s been 4 years for me. Maybe more.” Cam says softly, pulling the sheet up to her armpits.
“Well, I think we should just…scope things out for now. Does that sound okay?” Abbot asks, sliding onto the bed himself, laying on his side next to her, arm propping up his head. Cam nods, letting out a shaky exhale. “I don’t want you to feel like you should cover yourself up. I like seeing you.” Jack says, nearly a whisper.
Cam nods, and she slides the sheet down, Abbot helping her get the cool cotton to pool onto her knees. His hand trails back up, a chill zipping up her spine as his fingers slide along her thigh. His hand pulls at the excess flesh at the inside of her thighs, callouses scraping at the stretch-marked soft skin.
“Is this okay?” He asks, a handful of her flesh against his hand, fingers probing under the seam of her underwear. Cam nods, too stunned and shy to speak.
Jack slides his fingers under the gusset, and Cam rotates her knee out, trying to give him more space. This feels foolish, a nearly forty year old woman having a man slide his hand in her underwear like they’re teenagers. Cam nearly laughs at their position, but Jack’s fingers begin to explore further, making Cam gasp. His mouth latches onto hers as he delves deeper into her, pushing himself up so he’s nearly on top of her, his fingers penetrating her core, making her pull her mouth off of his to gasp for air. His mouth now navigates her neck, down to her chest. Cam begins rocking her hips, trying to increase the pressure and pleasure from his hand. Her orgasm erupts from her, making Cam let out a low moan despite herself. She’s slightly embarrassed, being so eager for him to pull pleasure from her. Cam looks at Jack, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he’s smiling, her bralette pulled aside like her underwear, unlatching his mouth from her breast, a devilish look in his eyes.
He plunges his fingers in at a different angle, and Cam writhes at the bliss crashing down, her right hand scrabbling at Jack’s chest as goes back to kissing her decolletage. Her hips begin to rock again, her core building pressure and her body greedy for his touch. The noises in Cam’s bedroom are reprehensible; Cam’s increasing wetness wrapping around his fingers, the panting, almost whimpering noises coming from Cam, Jack’s small hum of appreciation against her chest as the pressure builds inside of her, making her feel as if there’s a lightning strike coming and the pavement is getting hot under her feet. Cam can’t help the moan that comes from her mouth, the build up to her orgasm feeling like nearly too much for her body. She rocks her hips further in rhythm with Jack’s fingers, trying to get herself over the edge, now fearful of her own climax.
“Jack.” Cam tries to speak calmly, but a whine comes out, her voice shaking and high pitched. He unlatches his mouth from her neck and chest, a small sly smile pulling on his lips, his temples slicked with a small amount of sweat, his hazel eyes locking onto hers.
“Come for me, Cam.” Jack asks, like he’s asking for a glass of orange juice, or a dosage of cefazolin. His fingers are unrelenting, Cam’s hips still moving with him. Her climax begins, and Jack kisses her lips again hungrily, pressing his body onto hers
“Oh...” The noises that escape Cam’s throat sound like a prayer, cried out in desperation at the pews of a great cathedral. Her vision blurs as her whole body shudders under his touch. She stops rocking her hips, the pressure now like standing too close to a volcano, her whole body washed in heat, but shaking like she’s hypothermic. Her fingernails dig into his shoulder, her neck straining as she throws her head back, crying out. Jack is beginning to relent, exhaling a satisfied sigh. The world comes back to focus, and Cam can’t help but mirror Jack’s satisfied smile. There’s something pushing slightly against Cam’s thigh, and she looks to see his hardness trying to breach his boxer briefs. Her first instinct is to take hold of it, but she hesitates, unsure if that’s past their “scoping out” boundary.
“Do you…uh I could...” Cam asks, her gaze flashing between Jack’s face and groin.
“Do you want to?” Jack says. Neither of them seem to know what to say, both high off endorphins, sweating, breathing heavy.
“Yeah…you should…feel good too.” Can murmurs haltingly.
“I want you on top. Is that okay?” Abbot asks quietly, pushing himself up off the bed effortlessly. Cam’s eyes widen in shock at the calm request as Jack lies back on the bed.
“If you’re sure.” Cam says, standing up beside the bed. She shimmies her bra over her head, kicking her underwear off her ankles.
“I am.” Jack says, removing his own underwear, revealing himself to Cam, making her mouth fall open. Cam straddles him, his hardness now touching Cam’s apron belly, making her shrink back slightly. Jack doesn’t flinch, pulling Cam closer, kissing her deeply, gathering her breasts and kissing the full flesh. Cam moans, grasping at his member.
“You ready?” Abbot asks softly, looking up at her, and Cam nods, seeing sweat beading on Jack’s forehead, his obliques flexing as he breathes heavily, his rigidity still upright. Cam kneels over him, stomach heading to the floor as she imagines the unflattering angle that Jack sees of her body. She averts her gaze, grasping him without looking and sinking down, putting him inside of her slowly.
Jack lets out a quiet groan as Cam gasps, the feeling not unfamiliar, but long forgotten, possibly better than ever before. It’s as if she’s only seen fire in the form of a candle, and is now witnessing a bonfire set with accelerants. Before Cam can sink down all the way, Jack grabs her, in the crease between her stomach and hips, driving himself into her, making Cam yelp. She tips forward, catching herself on his chest before righting herself, desperate not to feel like she’s performing sexual cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Jack’s hands dig further into her hips, using her love handles as intended, guiding her up and down, his length filling her, making body quiver at the pressure. Cam throws her head back, marveling at how Jack doesn’t seem to notice how much Cam weighs as he lifts her knees off the mattress with the drive of his hips. Jack doesn’t seem to be straining, an infatuated and determined look on his face as he continues to collide his pelvis into hers, Cam merely trying to balance. The electric charge climbs from her pelvis up her spine, and she can’t help but let out a groan as she builds once more.
“Jack.” Cam says, this time a deep moan, drunk off of his touch, his strength, the deep stretch she feels as he fills her with every inch of his cock. She tilts her body forward, another orgasm washing over her, and he slows his thrusts as tears blur her vision. Cam’s knees finally settle back on the bed, Jack is no longer bouncing her up and down, and Cam takes the opportunity to seek her own angle. She hovers just slightly above being filled completely with him, grinding forward and backward, hitting her g-spot, which makes her start to yelp. Jack smirks before grabbing her ass with force, and guiding her along.
“That’s it. Ride for me.” Jack pants. Every forward stroke feels as if he buries his shaft even more than before, her cavity filled so completely it makes Cam feel as if she could explode. Her wetness increases still, making them slide along one another with a sinful noise, Jack using the lack of friction as a way to pound into her more, his brow furrowing as he grips her ass harder, making her rhythm fast as his dick begins to throb increasingly inside of her, giving her walls a new sensation to send her to the abyss. Jack is panting, his eyes closed.
“Cam…” Jack moans softly, as he orgasms, painting her walls. The wash of heat with the pulsing of his shaft brings Cam to the peak once more, making Cam throw her head back, howling like some kind of beast of the night. They stick together like this, his hands still firm on her ass, Cam still perched on his pelvis, until Jack’s brow furrows again and Cam snaps back to reality.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry.” Cam says, clambering off of him. “Did I hurt you?” She asks, laying on the bed beside him.
“You were a knockout up there.” Jack chuckles, making Cam smile. His brow furrows once more.
“What’s wrong?” Cam asks, still breathless.
“I need to shower.” Jack explains, wiping the sweat from his brow. His body is slick with sweat, and Cam knows that the sheets on the bed are forfeit.
“I have a shower.” Cam says with a chuckle.
“Do you have a shower chair?” Jack asks dryly, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Cam stands, her knees buckling for a moment be
“It’s in the basement.” Cam says, grabbing a bathrobe and tying it around her waist.
“Why do you have a shower chair?” Jack asks, his brow furrowing.
“The whole reason I moved back was my dad was dying, remember?” Cam calls, heading toward the stairs. “Give me 5 minutes.”
Cam wobbles down to the basement, two flights on stairs on unsteady legs, a likely reason for some of the patients that arrive at The Pitt. Cam finds the shower chair, and spots an old metal cane. It was her grandfather's, the kind that has four small feet on a metal base. The grey rubber grip is cracking, but she snags it, using the sleeve of her robe to wipe off the most egregious dust bunnies as she carries both up the stairs. Cam jumps when she sees Jack, who is wearing the shorts he slept in and has maneuvered down the second story stairs, now leaning against the hallway wall.
“I’m sorry, this house isn’t exceptionally accessible. Here.” Cam says, handing him the cane. He removes his palm from the wall, now more steady with the metal support.
“It’s fine. I just didn’t bring anything to help me get around. I wasn’t expecting to stay the night.” Jack explains, heading to the bathroom behind Cam. She puts the shower chair in the wide tub, turns out the water to ensure it's warming up.
“Sometimes the water takes a minute to get warm.” Cam explains, stepping toward the hallway. Jack is smirking at her, and Cam can’t help but smile back, eyeing his shirtless form. He’s blocking the entryway to the bathroom.
“Did you pee?” Jack asks her, raising her eyebrows.
“What?” Cam asks, a sneer forming on her face.
“Do you know how many women with UTIs we get a week in the E.D?” Jack asks, as Cam rolls her eyes at him. She shuts the bathroom door in his face, using the bathroom quickly as steam has begun to fill the room.
“Happy?” She asks, opening the door from the bathroom, drying her hands on the hand towel. She feels a cool breeze on her chest, and pulls the tie tighter, closing the gaping front.
“Exceptionally.” Jack says with a smile, letting her slide past him before heading into the steam filled bathroom.
This fic may include the following: Blood, injuries of all shapes and sizes, descriptions of surgery, death, deceased persons, situations of sexual abuse, physical abuse, psychiatric issues and all the other horrific and/or hilarious shit you get to see as a healthcare worker. If you thought The Pitt was too graphic, this isn’t for you. This is the only warning you will receive, there will be no chapter by chapter warnings. In the words of Sweet Brown 'Ain't nobody got time for that.'
“Tier 1 Trauma, ETA 8 minutes.”
Cam is hauling down the stairs, sweat beading on her temples as she walks quickly into the emergency department, sliding between patients stranded in the halls, waiting for labs, medication or discharge. She shimmies into the doorway of the trauma bay, trying to catch her breath.
“You okay?” Jack asks softly, grabbing a gown and putting it next to her, not actually glancing her way as he puts on his gloves.
“My car wouldn’t start. I don’t know why. I ordered an Uber, the first one canceled halfway to my house, and the second one was basically downtown when he accepted the ride. So, I just got here, and I’m sweating, and short of breath, and I think I feel as much of a mess as I look.” Cam says, her voice wavering.
“I’ll take you home in the morning.” Jack dictates, before lowering his voice again. “ If that’s okay.” Jack finishes, looking at her now, as he puts on his safety glasses. A smile pulls on Cam’s mouth despite the stress coursing through her veins.
“We can talk about it later.” Cam murmurs, hearing EMS gurney wheels rolling rapidly.
“17 year old male, motor vehicle versus tree, going at a high rate of speed, GCS of 12, T-Pod up for likely pelvic fracture, last BP was 109 over 67, access is a 16 in the right forearm.”
“This one is all Dr. Henderson, Crus, you call it for the move.” Abbot explains, standing back against the wall as Crus takes control of the head of the stretcher. Cam keeps an eye on the exam, but looks at Abbot, who is yawning in the middle of a trauma evaluation. Cam slides over toward Jack, sidestepping along the wall as she keeps an eye on the chaos in the middle of the room.
“Are you okay?” Cam asks him. Looking at him more closely, Cam realizes how tired he looks.
“Pulling a double. Robby needed some coverage. Chief residents out on leave, and honestly, Mike probably just needs a second attending.” Jack explains, not breaking eye contact from the evaluation.
“Jesus, what’s a double for you? 18?” Cam asks, her face screwing up with shock.
“Proably 19 by the time I get out of here.” Jack sighs.
“Yikes.” Cam sighs.
“Cam?” Crus calls, making Cam stand up straighter. “You’re good. I think Ortho will want to stabilize his pelvis tomorrow, but we will pan scan him and call you if something changes.” Dr. Henderson explains, taking off his gown.
“Sounds good. Thanks, Henderson.” Cam nods, sliding out the door, locking eyes with Jack for a brief moment before heading toward the stairs.
Time sails by, Cam focused on organizing the operating rooms, which have been left in increasing disarray each night as it grows warmer. Trauma season begins to creep upon them; more motorcycles out on the road, people outside, the high of sunshine and warm air washing all sense of logic and self-preservation out of every yinzer. The O.Rs are running later, more cases straining the barely appropriately staffed department. The coming summer means that Cam comes in to work to find equipment and supplies strewn across all the rooms, the load actively breaking the camel’s back. Night shift is supposed to set up rooms for the next morning, but Cam spends half of her shift clearing out the rooms before she can even contemplate putting equipment into the rooms. By the time Cam gets suture and trays laid out in all of her rooms, O.R beds made up sharply, she sees the sun glaring through the back windows, making her flinch.
“Jesus, what time is it?” Cam asks, seeing Madison pushing a suction machine into a room.
“It’s already ten past seven!” Madison calls, struggling to push all her equipment in line. Cam follows behind her, grabbing the piece of equipment Madison was pushing on and rolling it out of her way.
“Do you need a ride? I know your car wouldn’t start.” Madison asks, making Cam’s eyes go wide. She has, until now, only thought of her mile long to-do list that only just got cleared. Now, she remembers her car is at home, and Abbot’s offer of giving her a ride home is ricocheting around in her head.
“Uh, I scheduled an Uber.” Cam says, heading out to wash her hands and avoiding Madison’s scrutiny.
“You sure?” she offers once more. Cam can feel the heat of her shame flush her face, avoiding eye contact as she dries her hands.
“I’m sure. Thanks.” Cam says, checking her phone as they head toward the locker room.
“Robby wants me out of his hair. It wasn't just you, I guess I look like shit. I’ll be ready to take you home in 15. Meet me in the ambulance bay?”
Cam replies with a quick thumbs up, shoving her phone back in her pocket as she heads downstairs to change out of her scrubs. She barely listens to Madison chat about her last date from Tinder, or whatever online dating site she’s been using as she gets dressed. Madison has been trying to get Cam to download the apps for weeks, and she had been close to doing it for a while, but now she’s completely unsure of everything.
“You sure you don’t need a ride?” Madison offers as Cam opens the door to the stairwell to the E.D and Madison heads towards the staff garage.
“I’m good. Thanks. See you next week?” Cam asks, suddenly nervously looking at her phone, trying to pretend she’s checking on her rideshare.
“It’s my weekend, so I’ll be here Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Ugh.” Madison says, a disgusted look covering her face.
“Jesus. Good luck with that.” Cam says, heading down the stairs. Cam can’t help but avert her gaze from everyone in the E.D as she tries to slink out to the ambulance bay without attracting attention. Cam clings to the wall outside of the covered bay, the brick starting to warm already. The door slides open, and Jack swings around the corner, backpack slung across one shoulder. Cam puts her own bag on her back, her heart thundering in her chest.
“ Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Jack says, putting his sunglasses on, Cam following behind, putting her own aviators on to block the glare of the spring sun. They climb into the cab of the car and Jack sighs, rubbing his eyes.
“Are you good to drive?” Cam asks, brow furrowed.
“Yeah. I’m good.” Jack says, starting the car. They cruise down the street toward the Pitt tunnel, chatting quietly about work and the weather.
“God, am I going to have to mow the lawn soon? Good Lord.” Cam remarks, looking at the grass and trees flush with greenery by the river. The car drifts slowly, leaning further to the left. “Jack?” Cam says softly. The bridge’s blocked lane is coming up, and the car drifts into it, the small thudding rhythm of the diagonal paint jostling the car. The car is now sharply turning into oncoming traffic, a pickup two hundred yards away. “Jack? Jack!” Cam now yells, reaching for the wheel. Jack jolts, his arm twitching as he rights the car, slowing them down as they reach the red light at the end of the bridge. Cam’s chest is heaving, a cold sweat coating her back. Jack turns on the radio, rock music playing loudly.
“Are you okay?” Jack asks, over the raucous guitar. Cam nods, trying to slow her breathing down from her current state, catching her breath like she just sprinted across the hospital. The rest of the drive is quiet, Jack’s jaw set, his ears flushed. He pulls up next to her house, putting the car in park.
“I’m sorry.” Jack says softly. “I didn’t realize how tired I was. I haven’t pulled a double like that in a while, I should’ve…I’m sorry.”
“C’mon in, at least get a cup of coffee.” Cam mutters, getting her bag and heading up the stairs. She holds the door as Jack follows her into the house. Jack slouches into the armchair by the fireplace as Cam heads into the kitchen. “Coffee’s brewing, I’m gonna grab a shower.” Cam explains, Jack nodding, arms crossed on his chest.
Cam brings her most guest-appropriate sleepwear into the bathroom with her, scrubbing quickly and shimmying her pajamas over her wet and freshly lotioned skin. She pads into the kitchen, pulling the stray wet hairs stuck under the collar of her worn out t-shirt out from underneath her collar. She swings around to the living room, two cups in hand, to find Jack slouched in the chair, snoring softly.
“I don’t know if coffee is going to cut it.” Cam says, sitting on the loveseat near his armchair. His eyes open slowly, brow furrowed.
“I don’t know if coffee is going to cut it.” Jack says, with a yawn. Cam snorts out a laugh as he stretches.
“It definitely isn’t, especially since you almost drove us off the bridge.” Cam sighs, putting down the second cup and focusing on her own.
“Can I crash on your couch?” Jack asks.
“What about just sleeping in my bed instead?” Cam asks, eyebrows raised. Jack’s eyes fully open now, blinking hard. “I don’t mean, to like, fool around. Or get frisky, to borrow a phrase. This old loveseat is…old. And a loveseat. Unless your other leg comes off, you’re not going to have a good time.”
“Are you sure?” Jack asks, sitting upright now, putting a hand through his silver curls. “I don’t want to impose.”
“I feel like crashing your car on the way home is more imposing than sharing a bed in a slumber party-like fashion. C’mon.” Cam says, grabbing both coffee mugs and heading through the kitchen to deposit them in the sink.
“I think I’ve got a pair of shorts in my backpack, I’m gonna use the bathroom and, uh, meet you upstairs.” Jack says, and Cam opens the door to the upstairs loft bedroom, her footfalls fading up the carpeted stairs, and Jack closes the bathroom door. He puts his backpack on the top of the toilet seat lid, laying out all his everyday carry items he is incapable of leaving the house without, although it makes him feel like a paranoid maniac, putting his trauma kits out onto the sink in Cam’s master bathroom. Jack finally fishes out a worn out pair of polyester basketball shorts that he keeps as backup, in case his scrubs become too disgusting to wear home. He slides them on, folds up his scrub pants, and packs up his backpack. He glances at himself in the mirror, the steam of the shower still making the edges of the mirror fuzzy with droplets of water, realizing he should have shaved last night, the grey and copper stubble becoming increasingly obvious, and his eyes look sunken, from fatigue and definitely not enough water. He sighs, putting his backpack on his shoulder.
“Courage under fire.” He mumbles, closing the downstairs door behind him as he climbs up the stairs. He’s a bit shocked when he sees the bedroom, soft floral wallpaper covering a wall with powdery periwinkle blue wainscotting at the bottom. There’s floor length double hung curtains, a soft pink gauzy fabric billowing in the fan in the corner. Cam is too busy digging through a chest at the foot of the bed.
“Sorry, are you a warm sleeper? I have a few things, I just wasn’t sure. It gets kind of warm up here sometimes, but I thought you should have…options.” Cam explains, holding up a two different blankets.
“I sleep warm.” Jack says, nodding at the woven cotton blanket in Cam’s hand. She unfolds it on the bed, and then folds it in half, grabbing her own brightly colored weathered quilt and folding it on her side.
“I have extra pillows, too. They’re just in that closet.” Cam says, pointing to the tall closet next to the bedroom door.
“Cam, I used to sleep in the dirt. In the desert.” Jack says, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“So I guess that means you don’t want a satin pillowcase? Don’t want to muss up the curls.” Cam smirks, closing the blackout curtains, shadowing them in near darkness. Cam quickly flips on her bedside table lamp. “Sorry.”
“I have to take off my leg.” Jack explains, suddenly embarrassed.
“Okay. Do you…need something for that?” Cam offers haltingly.
“I just…thought I’d warn you, I guess. It’s why I sleep warm. All amputees tend to have warmer body temperatures. Same blood volume in a smaller body. Harder to remove heat from the body.” Jack rambles as he slides off his socket and puts his prosthesis beside the bed. He shimmies the sleeve off the stump, laying it over the top of the socket, like he always does every night, just not usually against such colorful walls.
“So I should cuddle with you in winter for maximum benefit?” Cam says, sliding into the bed. Silence invades the bedroom. “We don’t have to cuddle. I said it was like a slumber party. You’re too tired to drive, and I just want you to be safe and I–” Cam rambles quickly, sitting back upright, suddenly silent. “Oh my God, why did I say that?” Cam whispers. Jack chuckles, nervousness running down his spine.
“Cam?” Jack interrupts softly. There’s a long pause before she replies.
“Yeah?” She says, almost a whisper.
“I think I do want a second pillow.” Jack hisses.
“I got it.” Cam says, throwing herself out of her bed to head to her closet. Jack turns, appreciating the view as her shorts ride up while she reaches the top of the closet.
“You know those shorts are see-through, right?” Jack asks, making Cam cover her butt with the pillow she just managed to snag from the closet.
“Maybe I should sleep on my own loveseat…” Cam mumbles, turning toward him to get a pillowcase for the pillow. She shimmies the pillow violently until it slides into the case, handing it to him. Jack touches her hand, which is white knuckling the pillow as she passes it to him.
“Cam, I am in no way opposed to cuddling. Also, I am so tired, I feel drunk. Get in the bed.” Abbot says, adjusting his position with the second pillow, laying on his side facing Cam. She slides into the bed gingerly, as if making the bed bounce will set off an explosive. She turns off the bedside lamp, covering them in darkness once more, turning over and nearly gasping when she sees the shadow of Jack’s face. Jack can’t even breathe, as he puts his hand on Cam’s waist. Her abdominal muscles tighten for a moment, before beginning to relax. “Is this okay?” Jack asks softly.
“Yeah.” Cam says softly. This all feels so strange, laying in this bed, holding on to a woman for the first time in years, nervousness coursing in his veins. Jack leans in, giving her a tender kiss on her cheek.
“Good night.” Jack whispers, settling his head back down on his plush pillows, and sleep overtaking him like an anesthetic.
This fic may include the following: Blood, injuries of all shapes and sizes, descriptions of surgery, death, deceased persons, situations of sexual abuse, physical abuse, psychiatric issues and all the other horrific and/or hilarious shit you get to see as a healthcare worker. If you thought The Pitt was too graphic, this isn’t for you. This is the only warning you will receive, there will be no chapter by chapter warnings. In the words of Sweet Brown 'Ain't nobody got time for that.'
Cam is sitting in the courtyard, the daffodils beginning to push themselves through the earth. The sun is getting low, the stone bench she’s sitting on rapidly cooling as the sun no longer heats the surface. Owen sits next to her, baseball cap on backwards. He’s been at the veterans recovery center for more than thirty days, and Cam can finally see her brother as more the man she knew before, although he was barely a man before the Army took him to faraway lands to fight for oil and so-called freedom.
“Meds working out okay?” Cam asks, enjoying her cup of coffee her brother brought to her from the small cafe in the residents library. They’ve got their routine down, ever since he settled in, Cam always sees him before dinner the day after her last twelve hour shift of the week and they always enjoy coffee outside if the weather allows.
“Good. They think I’m leveling out. I stopped getting so nauseous. Here’s a better question. How’s things with Jack?” Owen teases over the rim of his paper cup. Cam rolls her eyes.
“Come on, I am working the steps, taking my medication, exercising, going to church service. I’m analyzed, baptized, and therapized. Now, I want to hear about my little sister’s doctor boyfriend.” Owen says, crossing his legs like he’s a day time talk show host.
“Ew, Owen, I’m too old to have a boyfriend.” Cam says, shoving his shoulder lightly. Owen sits next to her, a sardonic smile on his face as he stares down his sister and the spring wind blows the sparse grass into movement.
“Where’s your date tonight?” Owen teases, grinning at Cam.
“Argentinian place. Gaucho Parilla.” Cam sighs, a smile pulling at her lips despite her irritation at her brother’s ribbing. “Jesus, I don’t know who’s worse, you, Maggie or my coworker Madison.” Cam laughs as her brother pulls a face.
“Look, we don’t get that much T.V time, and someone else keeps getting all the sci-fi books I want from the resident library before me. I need something to entertain me.” Owen sighs, squinting into the sun.
“Do you want me to get you some books? There’s a book store on the way here.” Cam offers softly, as she takes her brother’s ball cap off of his still buzzed head and flips it around so the brim is actually useful.
“No, I want to pull juicy gossip from my sister about her boyfriend.” Owen taunts, chuckling as he goes in for a sip of his coffee. There’s a chime, and they both look back at the door to the facility, which a staff member has opened and is now waiting expectantly at the door. “That’s the dinner bell.” Owen sighs, standing up. “I’d hang out more, but it’s Italian night and I really want to cajole Sherry for extra meatballs.”
“Cajole? You have been reading a lot.” Cam chuckles, getting up off the cold bench and walking toward the door with her brother. He puts his hat backwards again, and begins to softly sing the Four Seasons tune to the woman at the doorway.
“Sheerrrryyyyy, Sherry Baby, Sheeeeerrrrrrrryyyyyyy…” Owen croons at her, making the woman crack a smile as she rolls her eyes. Owen heads towards the dining area, but Cam goes to head toward the exit.
“Is he always this happy with other visitors?” Cam asks, a warm grin on her face as her brother continues his tune down the hallway.
“Cam, honey, you’re the only that’s been to visit him since he got visitor privileges." Sherry explains calmly as she shuts the door to the courtyard. Cam’s smile fades, it’s as if someone threw her in a tank of cold water.
“What? I thought surely my mom or my sister would have…” Cam trails off, realizing how stupid of a statement she’s trying to utter. “I don’t know why I’m fucking surprised.” Cam sighs, running a hand through her hair. Cam is digging her keys from her pocket, as she’s not allowed to bring her purse, only bringing her keys and her phone inside. She’s heading toward the exit when Sherry speaks again.
“You take care of yourself, Cam. You’re not responsible for other people.” Sherry instructs. Cam turns back, a bitter smile on her face.
“Most of my job is literally being responsible for other people’s needs, but thank you Sherry, have a good night.” Cam sighs, buzzing the door to exit.
The drive home her mood is dour. She knows that Sherry is right, but she is so angry ay her sister and mother for not giving a damn that Owen is doing everything he can to get back on track. She keeps opening her phone, increasingly tempted to call her sister and scream and rage at her for being so self-absorbed. She’s marinating in her anger on the couch when her phone rings, she answers it quickly, without paying attention to the name on the screen, half hoping its her sister so she can give her a piece of her mind.
“Hello?” Cam nearly barks through the receiver.
“Hey, I’m on my way to pick you up, I’ll be there in like 10 minutes.” Jack explains, his voice echoing through his car.
“Fuck.” Cam hisses, jumping off the couch. “Sounds good, go ahead and come in when you get here.” Cam says, jumping off the couch and heading to her bedroom.
“Everything okay? Should we do a raincheck?” Jack asks.
“No. I mean, I’m okay. Just got…thrown for the day. I’m just running behind. I still would like dinner. With you.” Cam huffs, now searching frantically through her meager closet for decent clothes. She has no need for dressy clothes, so her wardrobe is mostly joggers, shorts and leggings, but she knows that Jack is making effort, and so she is trying to reciprocate. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna let you go, I gotta get dressed. The front door is unlocked.” Cam says, hanging up before he can say goodbye. “Jesus suffering fuck.” Cam sighs, running a hand through her hair as she slides her hangers back to further examine her clothes.
Cam hears Jack open the door and call her name when she’s finishing up fixing her hair in the bathroom, having finished brushing it and now putting product in it. Her palms began to snag her hair as a sheen of sweat begins to take over her body. She plucks and adjusts her clothes, walking around the corner to the hallway to the living room where Jack is standing.
“Hi.” Cam says softly, still adjusting her clothing. She looks at Jack, his eyebrows raised nearly to his curls, as he eyes her body.
“Madison talked me into ordering this outfit at four in the morning one night. It’s a bodysuit.” Cam chuckles, still tugging at the fabric, pulled taut across her torso. It’s a deep red, baby soft ribbed long sleeve body suit. It clings to her, showing the rolls and creases in her flesh, but the jeans are loose, almost baggy, and keep falling lower on her hips, and Cam’s unsure how to hold still without trying to hide her belly and hike up her pants.
“Bodysuit…” Jack mumbles confused, now raising one eyebrow instead of two. Cam grabs one of the hip seams pulling it slightly out of her jeans and snapping it, making the fullness of her hip quiver at the impact. She looks up to see Jack swallow hard.
“It’s a big too gen Z, isn’t it?” Cam asks, averting her gaze.
“No, it’s…it’s nice. You look really nice.” Jack murmurs quietly, putting his hands behind his back.
“Thanks. Let me grab my purse, we can get going, sorry I’m running behind, I went to see Owen, and…”
“Is he okay?” Jack asks, clearly jumping at an opportunity of normal conversation topics. She’s tempted to ask him what his favorite suture is, just to break the shimmering wall of tension between them.
“He’s doing great. My sister and mom, they haven’t seen him at all.” Cam sighs, rooting through her purse to make sure she has everything.
“You can’t hold yourself responsible for other people.” Jack said dryly. Cam swings her purse over her shoulder hard, huffing, sudden thickness entering her throat, her eyes stinging.
“You and Sherry from the V.A must read the same books.” Cam huffs.
“Probably the same therapist.” Jack murmurs, putting his eyes on the floor and his hands in his pockets.
“I’m sorry, we have dinner reservations, don’t we?” Cam says, opening the front door.
“You know you’re still not scaring me off.” Jack remarks, following closely behind her as she locks her front door.
“Even in this skin tight getup?” Cam laughs, stepping carefully down the stairs.
“You know my childhood crush was Catwoman right?” Jack retorts, opening the door for her and giving his head that small tilt that makes heat rush up to her chest.
How Cam managed not to spill chimichurri sauce on her bodysuit was a miracle beyond her imagination. Jack insisted they get paella, steak and shrimp, although Cam is much less nervous than their last date, so it’s easier to eat, no longer feeling like she has a rock in her stomach.
“I’m standing there, just, gobsmacked, wondering how the hell this gets so damn out of hand, and Ellis is looking at me, horrified, and I ask her ‘why didn’t you go get Shen?’ because John was R3 at the time, about to be chief, and she just shrugs at me and goes ‘would you trust him with this if it was you?” Jack laughs, nearly wheezing “And I just stood there, the patient right in front of us, and I totally panicked, grabbed Ellis by the sleeve of her scrubs and then pulled her to the nurses station to put orders in for the poor bastard.” He chuckles, wiping tears from his eyes. “Shortly after that is when I started working for SWAT, because my therapist said I needed a hobby and I needed to be with adults.” Jack sighs, leaning back in his chair as Cam picks at the crispy rice stuck in the bottom of the paella dish.
“You could’ve just taken up tennis, Jack.” Cam snorts.
“Does Tennis pique your interest?” Jack asks.
“Fuck no.” Cam says around a bite of crispy rice, making Jack simper.
“What does pique your interest? You type A? Quilting?” Jack asks, raising his eyebrow at her.
“Quilting? C’mon Jack, I know I’ve got some greys but I’m not Martha fucking Washington. Also if you had ever seen my back table set up, you’d know I’m not type A.” Cam sighs, leaning back in her chair.
“That’s good, because I am definitely not Type A either. This entire time I’ve been scared to see if you’re one of those people with a perfectly organized linen closet.” Jack remarks.
“Rest assured, my linen is in a chest my grandfather built, unfolded and exceptionally wrinkled.” Cam says, grinning.
"the most unrealistic thing about project hail mary is that a woman is in charge" WRONG look up the glass cliff. women are much more likely to be promoted to positions of power when things are going poorly and people need a woman to blame. she refers to herself as the "world's whipping boy." the person put in the position to have to commit ecological and humanitarian crimes of that scale in order to save the earth would only ever be a woman.
It kept coming back up in her mind. Like a pesky weed refusing to be plucked out completely by the root, appearing again and again. All weekend, while she was on the turnpike, while she was unpacking, doing her laundry, cooking for the work week. It was like a malignancy, sapping the energy from the rest of her, pushing her train of thought off the tracks. She had done nothing but think about it on and off for nearly five days. Cam wanted that kiss.
She was grateful when she went to the control desk of the O.R and she was assigned to finishing an orthopedics case. Snagging her gown and gloves, grabbing her lead from its hiding place. She opens the door, trying not to cause a ruckus on the way into the room. There’s music in the room, low in volume but high in energy, thrashing guitar and cymbals flowing through the room.
“You don’t need lead.” Dr. Park growls. Cam hangs her lead up on the rack near the door, opening a gown and gloves. “Do you really need to interrupt us right now?” Park snaps, breaking his gaze from the patient’s arm, lying flayed open under bright lights.
“Johnny needs to go home. His shift is over.” Cam says, leaving the room to scrub her hands. As she starts scrubbing her fingers individually, she can see Dr. Park is getting increasingly irritated, his jaw set behind his mask. As she rinses her fingers to her arms, she sees the resident is getting nervous as well. She gowns and gloves herself, quietly pushing the table back to accommodate her sliding in next to Johnny.
“We’re finishing up this ulnar plate, we have to do a buttress plate after this. You have saline and this is the last of your suture.”
Cam surveys the space where all the instruments are laying, as Cam and Johnny count everything on the field that could be left inside the patient. Dr. Park is increasingly agitated by this distraction, but it’s required; every shift change, the scrubs and nurses have to count, so you don’t call someone after they’ve left to figure out why there’s something missing. They settle back in, Johnny leaving for the evening and Cam settling into the case.
“Manny? Can I get some sterile water please?” Cam asks the nurse in the room.
“I don’t irrigate with sterile water. Ever.” Dr. Park growls again.
“It’s to clean instruments.” Cam explains calmly. She refuses to engage with Park’s bad attitude, knowing that if she gets defensive, he’s going to go in for the kill. Park always wants to start a fight with people, seeing if he can make you flinch. Cam has played this game of surgical chicken many times before, and is happy for the exceptional distraction from the rest of her life.
“I need a fourteen screw.” Park snaps, holding out a hand.
“Cortical or locking?” Cam asks, grabbing the screwdriver.
“Cortical.” Park nearly shouts. Cam sighs, loading the screw onto the screwdriver and checking it’s actually a fourteen, as sometimes they get placed wrong in the organizing caddy.
“Can I have that screw today?” Dr. Park snaps.
“I’m checking the length. Don’t want to hand you the wrong size.” Cam explains flatly. Park snatches the screwdriver from her, putting it into the plate in the patient's forearm.
“Are you going to be this annoying all night?” Dr. Park asks, looking over his Pit Viper safety glasses to stare her down.
“Who could know?” Cam sighs, taking the screwdriver from his hand and wiping it off with a damp sponge.
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Park asks, trying to stare Cam down. He towers over her, despite her five foot seven frame, and he’s built like a Roblox character, all sharp corners.
“I mean, I scrubbed for Matt Carty in Boston about…2 years ago? I think I should be okay.” Cam says, not looking at Park, but cleaning off more instruments with dried blood accumulating on the gleaming metal.
“You worked at Mass General Brigham?” Park asks, his tone suddenly changing.
“MGB, Northwestern, Baltimore Shock Trauma, Detroit, G-Dub, Methodist in Indianapolis.” Cam lists, swapping out the saturated sponge Park’s been hoarding in his hand for a dry one. Park’s jaw seems to unclench finally, and a wave of calm seems to finally come over the room.
“Who’s Matt Carty?” The resident asks Dr. Park, as he begins to reveal the next fracture from underneath the skin.
“He was one of the guys in Boston who did all the microsurgery to save people’s limbs after the Boston Marathon bombing. Putting people’s feet backwards so the distal tibia could act like a knee joint for a prosthetic.” Park explains, no longer growling like some kind of feral animal.
The rest of the case is smooth, like a plane flying through a brief pocket of turbulence, everyone is far more relaxed after they’ve climbed through it. The music is turned up, and despite the fact the room is still far from jovial, it no longer seems that there’s a hair-trigger on the mood. The resident starts to finish the last few sutures, Dr. Park fist bumps the resident, and even offers one to Cam, who accepts the silent thanks. Cam is grateful for the case to be done, but suddenly the thoughts about Jack come flooding back into her brain, like the dam blew open. She drags the heavy case cart to the elevator, suddenly yearning for an excuse to go downstairs to the emergency department, trying to will the pager to start singing. Cam stays busy for most of the shift, getting tomorrow’s rooms ready, even putting away stray supplies she usually ignores for the sake of her own sanity. She wants to see Jack, but she knows how embarrassed she will feel when she gets down there, especially since she’s not even sure he’s working tonight. She turns the music up in her earbuds, putting her head down, and sorting through a heap of abandoned suture. It’s an oddly quiet night, especially since it’s starting to get warm outside, but no matter how desperate she is to see Jack, she doesn’t dare utter the dreaded ‘q’ word out loud. Cam leans on the window sill of the back hallway, the only window to the outside world they have in the department, staring at the sun beginning to peak over the other side of the river, the clouds thinning to show the orange and pinks radiating through the navy sky. Cam is lost for a moment, basking in the sight, when she jumps at her phone buzzing in her pocket. She unlocks it, seeing a message, making her heart race.
“I thought you were working tonight.” The message reads. It’s as if Cam has summoned Jack with her mind to reach out, since she’s too cowardly to do it herself.
“I’m here. Been busy. O.Rs were trashed.” Cam replies, huffing at her brisk reply.
“I want to hear about the flower show. Giving report to Robby as soon as he puts down his backpack. Pick you up by the elevator on the second floor?” Abbot’s message reads.
“Sounds good.” Cam replies, her heart racing and her stomach trying to escape into her pelvis. Cam walks to the elevator, taking her hair out of her scrub cap. She fusses over trying to fix it for a few minutes before realizing it’s a lost cause. This desperation to primp is such a strange feeling, nerves alight as if there’s a craniotomy coming up from the E.D, but it’s just Jack. Cam sees a box gloves sitting on an abandoned EVS cart in the hallway, and snags two, tearing the wrist cuffs off. She puts up her hair, twisting it with the gloves cuffs, trying to put it in the semblance of a decent bun. Cam scoffs and shakes her head, leaning against the wall with her hands behind her back.
“Oh my God, I am so dumb.” Cam scoffs, humiliation beginning to seep in as the brief adrenaline rush fades. She considers going back to the desk, lying about an emergency case, and hiding from this clandestine meeting. Before she can bolt, the elevator dings, Jack leaning against the back wall, hands clasped behind his back, chin held up in that defiant way that makes her heart flutter so hard she wonders if she needs an EKG.
“Going up.” Jack says dryly, sticking to his posture against the wall. The silence outside of the whirring of the elevator is startling, and Cam starts looking at the floor, the energy in the small metal box seems askew. The door opens to the roof and the air is chilly, but it no longer has the bitter bite of winter.
“How was your night?” Cam asks, as Jack looks out over the portion of the city still coated in darkness, the sun not yet high enough to crest over the tall hills and bathe them in light.
“I think I pushed too hard after The Parlor, and I’m sorry.” Jack says shortly. Cam’s throat feels thick, sudden panic rising in her chest.
“I thought you wanted to ask me about the flower show.” Cam sighs, sudden tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Cam’s heart goes from a flutter to a thundering race, realizing her instincts to bolt were correct, but it’s far too late now. She crosses her arms, turning toward the side of the building where the sun is rising.
“I did. I just wanted to apologize. I don’t know how to do this, I’m out of practice” Jack says, his eyes now turning toward Cam. She can see his fidgeting with his wedding band in her peripheral vision. “But I don’t want to push you. I feel like all I do is push. I push residents to learn the skills necessary, I push patients to do better, feel better, make better choices, and now I’m pushing you.”
“Maybe I need a push.” Cam shrugs, her gaze turning toward him. “I should have said yes, at the incline.” Cam says, finally locking eyes with him. She drops her arms from the defensive position, staring at him as he puts his hands in his front pockets. Cam really wishes her O.R scrubs had front pockets as gooseflesh ripples across her arms.
“Yes to the kiss?” Jack asks softly, kicking at some loose gravel nervously. Cam can’t speak, only nod. Jack steps closer to her, tilting his head as he leans further into her, his hands still in his pockets. “Can I kiss you now?” Jack asks, his eyes glancing between Cam’s eyes and lips. Cam stares at him, the hazel of his eyes beginning to shine as the sun rises higher. Cam realizes the part of her that’s kept her alone is trying to take over once again, like those tropical ants who lose control of their bodies because of a fungus. Some part of her wants to look away, to go back downstairs. This time, she does not listen to that part of her brain, instead closing the gap between her and Jack, sliding her fingers through his silver curls at his nape and pressing her lips to his. It’s a brief but gentle embrace, breaking apart with Jack’s right hand resting on her hip, and the left on her shoulder.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” Jack murmurs, his smirk making his eyes crinkle in the corners. “C’mon. If Robby finds us up here again, he’s gonna put it together, and he’s the biggest gossip in the damn hospital.” Jack says, putting his hands in pockets as they mosey back to the elevator.
“I think Robby put it together months ago.” Cam chuckles, shaking her head as he presses the second floor for her to head back to the O.R.
“Yeah, Ahmad in security is making bets on us, and if it all comes out to the rest of The Pitt, and I want to make sure Robby loses.” Jack says, crossing his arms as he leans onto the elevator wall. The elevator slows as it reaches the second floor.
“You really want Robby to lose that badly?” Cam asks, raising an eyebrow as the doors open and she steps out near the surgical department.
“Lena said she’ll split her winnings with me!” Jack calls as the elevator doors close.
Calling Dr. Love chapter is delayed til tomorrow or Sunday or Thursday or maybe I just give y'all two for the price of one next Friday. I am the real life reenactment of Salvador Dali's 'Persistence of Memory' today and its just not gonna happen today. Sorry, not really that sorry.
If you're struggling with a project, wear a completed project out for errands. Someone will say "hey thats cool" and you get to say "thank you, I made it" and you see that awed look in their eyes and you feel like you can go back to that project and make it your bitch.
This fic may include the following: Blood, injuries of all shapes and sizes, descriptions of surgery, death, deceased persons, situations of sexual abuse, physical abuse, psychiatric issues and all the other horrific and/or hilarious shit you get to see as a healthcare worker. If you thought The Pitt was too graphic, this isn’t for you. This is the only warning you will receive, there will be no chapter by chapter warnings. In the words of Sweet Brown 'Ain't nobody got time for that.'
“You ever had shakshuka? Shit is incredible.”
“Are you taking pictures of your food?” Maggie asks, taking a bite out of a spring roll.
It’s been twenty years since she and Cam went to high school together. It’s strange, looking at someone who you were close to when you were young, getting sunburnt and freckled at the pool, turning your hair a strange shade of orange with lemon juice and peroxide, to two women graying at the temples.Somehow, they’ve still ended up cramming themselves into a table with their food in a crowded space, likes its sophomore lunch. The Reading Market in Philly is massive, a veritable maze of eateries and vendors. It’s packed, barely enough room to squeeze through the walkways between the crowds, clumps and lines of people. Somehow, they found a table, Cam landing with her Georgian food just after Maggie opened up her bag of Thai.
“I’m…trying. Maybe too hard?” Cam cringes, sending the photo and flinching as she slaps her phone down on the table.
“Tighe the terrifying, sending food pics.” Maggie says, smirking, finishing off her spring roll. Cam drops her fork and knife, cringing again.
“Jesus.” Cam groans.
“You scared the shit out of most of the football team. Remember when you get the quarterback a shiner?” Maggie laughs, taking a sip of her tea.
“It was a wayward softball pitch in gym glass!” Cam cries.
“You got asked by like…6 guys to go to prom.” Cam exclaims, going back to cutting into her bread dish.
“You couldn’t get a date to prom. I couldn’t get a date to prom because we were friends.”
“They were poseurs.” Maggie scoffs.
“The guy with the liberty spike mohawk died orange wasn’t punk enough for you? God, what was his name?” Cam asks, grinning now at her friend. Maggie had let a lot of her old piercings heal over, but she still had all her earrings, her lip, tongue and nose piercings.
“Xavier. He was a total fucking poseur. He thought Sum41 was the peak of punk music.” Maggie scoffs, digging into her pad see ew.
“Ah yes, because everyone knows the Dead Kennedys are really where it’s at.” Cam snorts over a mouth full of food.
“Don’t besmirch my band.” Maggie cries, pointing her chopsticks at Cam across the table.
“Hey, I always liked Bikini Kill.” Cam shrugs. Her phone buzzes on the table, making Cam jump. Cam goes to unlock her phone, but lifts her head to look at Maggie, who starts to giggle at Cam’s visible embarrassment.
“This is funnier than your crush on Bobby Boyd junior year. What’s this guy's name again?” Maggie asks, eyebrows raised.
“Jack.” Cam says, wary of oversharing about a man she’s only been on one actual date with, although it certainly feels like they’ve spent lots of time together.
“Do we have pictures of Jack?” Maggie asks, holding out her hand expectantly Cam realizes she has no idea how to get a photo of Jack, and then realizes he likely has a medical profile through PTMC’s website. After a bit of scrolling, Cam finds an older picture of Jack, unsmiling, in his white coat, something Cam couldn’t imagine him wearing for even a moment. .
“It’s an older photo, but…” Cam says, sliding her phone toward Maggie, increasingly embarrassed at her foolishness.
“Bitch, is he a doctor? Holy shit! Here I am with an HVAC repairman for a husband and you’re out here getting doctors. Oh my God, do you work with him?” Maggie gasps, making Cam want to crawl under the table.
“Not really. He’s not my superior. He’s a night shift emergency room doc.” Cam explains, waving off Maggie’s conspiratorial gaze.
“Did he text you back?” Maggie asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Cam unlocks her phone again, going to her messages.
“I used to work with a doctor from Georgia. His wife made us cheeseboats and puff pastries for christmas one year. The E.D was insane that year with the flu but we ate like kings. Glad you’re having fun on your trip.”
“Yeah, nothing fantastic.” Cam says, sliding her phone over to Maggie and digging into her food in earnest.
‘You know what’s missing from that?” Maggie asks, sliding her phone back. “The part that says ‘I miss you’.”
“Oh, shut up. Don’t put those ideas in my head. We’ve been on one actual date. A date that got interrupted by Owen going to a psychiatric facility. Also, we’re gonna be late for that speaker about shade gardening.” Cam says, polishing off her shakshuka and packing up to leave the crowded market.
“So, how is a guy that hot single?” Maggie asks, as they flow into the crowd of people heading into the convention center;s lecture area.
“His wife died two years ago.” Cam replies softly, trying not to announce it to the crowd mingling before the speaker starts.
“Oooh, hot widower.” Maggie teases, making Cam shush her as they sit on the end of a row of older women. “Did you text him back?”
“No. not yet.” Cam says, rooting through her purse for nher phone. “I was going to send him a picture of the lecture slide.”
“Ew that’s boring. You should send him a hot photo. Something with your boobs.” Maggie mumbles.
“Oh my God! Margaret!” Cam shrieks softly.
“Camilla, your boobs are great, and I’m sure he would appreciate them. You should be more flirty.” Maggie scoffs, shimmying her shoulders at Cam as she nearly sinks to the carpeted floor of the convention center in shame.
They spend the rest of the day at the convention center, heading back to the hotel when Maggie has to call home.
“If I don’t call Eric and the kids, they’re gonna freak out. Last time I went out for cocktails with some coworkers, I didn’t call home, the kids wouldn’t go to bed. I crawl out of an Uber at midnight, and my fucking kids are still awake. I love them, but Jesus Christ they’re fucking weird.” Maggie sighs, pressing her phone to her ear. “Hiii baby! Where’s dad? Can you put me on speaker?” Maggie coos, the tone of her voice becoming soft and saccharine.
Cam unlocks her phone, pacing to the back of the small double suite to give Maggie some space. She’s been trying hard not to check her phone every two minutes, but now, it seems like there’s time to indulge in living like a desperate tween.
“I just got here an hour ago and already could’ve used your talented hands.”
A wave of heat climbs up Cam’s neck, making her lock her phone and put it down on the desk next to the window. Maggie waves at her silently, phone still pressed to her ear, making strange faces at Cam across the room. Cam waves her off, digging through her duffel bag for clothes for dinner.
“Okay, Mom has to go eat dinner with her friend! Love you guys!” Maggie calls through her phone with a chipper voice. She drops the phone and raises her eyebrows at Cam.
“You’re beet red, bitch.” Maggie snorts.
“Shut up.” Cam huffs back. “Where are we going for dinner again?”
“Maggie, this place had better be worth it.” Cam sighs, standing out in the chill. The restaurant is so small there’s no
room to wait inside without being squeezed. They’ve been standing around, watching drunk people stumble out of the building for nearly an hour.
“It’s worth it. I’ll order, it’s gonna be great. See? They’re calling me right now.” Maggie says, digging her phone out of her coat pocket.
The crush of the crowd in the restaurant is worse the further back they go, sliding into a tiny table that Cam feels like she’s being put in the cockpit of a plane. Maggie orders swiftly for them, before draping her jacket over her chair.
“So, did you text Jack back?” Maggie asks as the waiter fills their water glasses and Maggie scoots her chair in further. Cam shakes her head, going for her water. Cam asks questions about the kids, distracting Maggie into talking about Olivia’s obsession with horses and Daniel’s new fascination with heavy machinery.
“My living room TV is nothing but youtube videos of CAT excavators. I wake up at 7am on a Saturday to the sound of ‘Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!’ of some asshole on the internet backing up an excavator in a construction site. I thought our neighbor's house was getting knocked down.” Maggie laughs.
“Here we are, ladies.” The server announces, deftly swinging the two dishes onto the table, a large plate of chicken and a gleaming mussel pot. There’s a mountain of short, skinny fries accompanying it, the small table now fully occupied. Maggie and Cam both thank the waiter, and begin to sort through the dishes.
“Oooh. I got it. Hold on.” Maggie says, rearranging the table, moving the mussels closer to Cam and sliding the chicken wings back toward herself. “Unbutton that button of your shirt.” Maggie orders.
“What?” Cam asks, confused.
“Fluff that side of your hair and unbutton the next button on your shirt, I’m going to take a sexy picture you can send to Jack.” Maggie insists, now grabbing Cam’s phone off the table.
“Jesus.” Cam huffs, but obliges, her fingers fumbling with the tiny button of her blouse.
“Pick up the water glass. There you go. Smile. Not that smile. A ‘fuck me’ smile.”
“What is a—” Cam interrupts, brow furrowing.
“Shut up. Think of that time that Bobby Boyd rejected you and tried to push you in the pool but you threw him in instead.” Maggie blurts quickly, taking several photos. Maggie hands Cam’s phone back, and Cam barely recognizes the woman in the photos. She seems poised, smart and definitely sexy. There’s a bushel of cleavage showing and Cam wants to delete it, but she turns the phone away from herself.
“What do I say back?” Cam asks, as Maggie starts digging into the fries. Maggie takes the phone back, looking at Cam.
“Can I send it for you?” Maggie asks, eyebrows raised as she grabs another fry.
“Yes.” Cam says begrudgingly. Maggie slides the phone back to Cam, who is far too worried about what Maggie just sent to start on dinner.
The Pitt is buzzing, the standard Friday night regulars mixed with the stray true emergencies. Abbot is trying hard to keep up on charting in between supervising residents and the still very young Dr. Shen. His phone buzzes, making him pull it out of his cargo pocket and squint slightly at the notification screen. He unlocks it, seeing a photo of Cam, bathed in warm orange light, obviously taken by her friend. His mouth starts to go a bit dry, looking at the message and the accompanying photo.
“What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?” He mumbles softly, before turning his phone face down on the desk, trying hard to get his focus back.
If you write 3 sentences on your work in progress and show me, I will write 4 sentences on my work in progress and show you
I skipped ahead a bit. Here goes!
There’s sweat beading down Cam’s back as she trods around the ambulance bay towards the E.D entrance. She knew that when she got called, it would be messy, but she didn’t think she would have to take the back stairs of the garage to get close to getting in the hospital. She’s pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, relieved by the shade of the ambulance bay when she hears her name called.
Well, well, well, look who got their shit together to scrape a not half bad chapter together.
This fic may include the following: Blood, injuries of all shapes and sizes, descriptions of surgery, death, deceased persons, situations of sexual abuse, physical abuse, psychiatric issues and all the other horrific and/or hilarious shit you get to see as a healthcare worker. If you thought The Pitt was too graphic, this isn’t for you. This is the only warning you will receive, there will be no chapter by chapter warnings. In the words of Sweet Brown 'Ain't nobody got time for that.'
“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay.” Abbot says as he heads down the road in silence, potholes and road noise punctuating the noiseless cabin.
“Honestly? This is the most okay. I’ve been in a while.” Cam sniffs, wiping fresh tears that have been intermittently flowing down her face the last ten minutes. “It’s an…explanation. An actual explanation. It’s the most hope for my brother I’ve had in…a decade? It’s a lot to process.” Cam sniffs. Abbot misses the turn for her house, turning down Carson. Cam is confused, but isn’t too upset if he gets lost. Despite her embarrassment, Jack’s company has been good for her, especially in this moment of crisis. It’s an interesting thing, doing everything solo and suddenly you have companionship. Cam wondered for years why so many of her old friends were still with the slacker men they chose years ago; the ones who barely hold jobs, couldn’t take out the trash or run a load of laundry if you put a gun to their head. At this moment, she understands perhaps why they stay with these men. They’re not used to the loneliness of self-reliance Cam is well accustomed to. The car is slowing down, and Cam’s brow furrows.
“What are we doing here, Jack?” Cam asks, a small smile pulling at her lips.
“I haven’t been here in forever. I figured we still need to finish the coconut pudding.” Jack says, cutting the engine and stepping out of the car.
“We’re just gonna move on from the fact that our date got interrupted by my brother overdosing and getting put in a psychiatric facility?” Cam asks before he closes his door.
“I’m just excited for the coconut pudding.” Jack says dryly, before closing the door and fetching the to-go bag from the back. Cam sighs, shaking her head, but she can’t make the muscles in her face stop pulling into a grin. She steps out of the car, heading toward the top of the incline.
“You know, you could’ve just taken the coconut pudding home.” Cam says, crossing the two way street and heading toward the old building.
“You’re not going to push me away, Cam. You can try, but it’s not gonna work.” Jack explains flatly, like he’s reporting blood pressures on a trauma patient.
“I’m not pushing you away.” Cam huffs, pausing at the veterans memorial briefly. Jack turns around, and is close to her before she realizes, nearly making her jump.
“You can make all the self-deprecating jokes you want, all the excuses, but I’m not going anywhere. We’re gonna look out at the Ohio River and enjoy our coconut pudding. I was hoping we could get a little frisky tonight, but I don’t think either of us are in the right headspace for that.”
“Frisky? Jesus, you are old.” Cam mumbles, a rush of heat washing over her at the thought.
“Cam, it took me a long time to ask you out. I wanted to ask you out, on the roof, in February. But, I’m a widower, I’m better at banter than flirting, and Robby was a massive cockblock. Now, I’m on a hot streak. I took you to breakfast, I picked you up for dinner, we made a brief stop at the V.A E.D, but I’m still on a roll. Like a runaway train, nothing's getting in my way now.”
“From getting frisky?” Cam asks, smirking.
“From finishing this coconut pudding with you. From going out to dinner again, hopefully not getting interrupted, and maybe, then, getting frisky.” He says softly, determination in his eyes, like he just laid out a set of orders for a resident to put into action for a patient. He turns, heading toward the door, and Cam sighs, but follows after as they head into the building, Jack holding the door open for her, sliding into the door to the old station, giving the person at the welcome desk a small nod. They follow the bold, red, vintage signs to the observation desk, a large gust of chilled air hitting them as Cam pushes open the door to the outdoors. They walk up to the iron fencing, both looking out onto the city. The constant drizzle of rain has been the whole city softly glow, a haze of yellow and blue tinged halos around everything laid before them.
Jack begins to untie the bag, holding their dessert.
“There’s no tables out here.” Cam says, with a small chuckle. Jack stuffs the plastic bag in his pocket, holding his plastic spoon in his teeth as he hands one to Cam, who leans against the fence, the cold wet metal biting into the flesh of her hip through her jacket and dress.
“Like you’ve never had a meal without sitting down. You work in healthcare. You tended bar.” Abbot says, taking off the lid of the container and holding out the container to Cam. She delves her spoon into the dessert, moving closer to him in order not to drop any dessert onto the deck.
“Half the time, I make dinner, and I eat it standing up in the kitchen. I put it in a bowl, but moving to the dinette table? Nah.” Cam says around a bite of pudding.
“Half the time, I’ll eat it out of the pot.” Abbot says, making Cam snort out a laugh.
A companionable silence washes over them after their second bites, Cam no longer noticing the chill of the metal as she leans against the railing, admiring the glow of the city reflecting off of the water droplets collecting on Jack’s hair. They finish their dessert, Jack tossing the empty container back in the bag, Cam twisting her plastic spoon in her hands, lost in thought.
“My brother told me I should go to Philly this weekend. It’s the last weekend of the flower show. I was supposed to meet up with an old friend from high school who lives outside of Philly and we were going to go together.” Cam says, twisting her spoon until the plastic starts to groan.
“You should go. He told you that you should.” Jack says, leaning on the railing looking out at the city.
“I know. It just feels a little wrong, leaving him while all this shit is happening.” Cam says, her voice starting to break.
“Cam, what’s going to happen if you’re home? Anything good?” Jack asks, putting his hands in his jean pockets as they both face the hazy glow over Pittsburgh.
“My mom and/or my sister will show up to my house, and I’ll get so stressed I’ll strip the basement down to the studs to distract myself.” Cam says, wincing at the realization before starting to laugh. They both chuckle for a moment, Cam sighing and releasing her tortured plastic spoon. “I think I’m scared he’ll disappear again.” Cam sighs, putting her hands in her jacket pockets.
“I don’t think he’s going anywhere. You know the sobriety stages?” Jack asks. Cam shakes her head, a lump forming in her throat once again.
“At first it’s a lot of denial, guilt and ambivalence. That’s a circle in and of itself. That one goes around and around pretty quickly.” Abbot explains, his fingers circling around one another. “There’s a getting off point, and that’s confronting denial, and committing to change. Your brother has confronted denial twice.” Jack says, now holding up two fingers. He points to his first finger. “First, about his addictions, secondly, about his mental health.” He finishes, pointing to his second finger. Cam smirks at his gesticulations, making Abbot furrow his brow and put his hands back in his pockets.
“He made it this far, he’s gone back to the hospital. I’m not saying sobriety is forever, but I think he’s making good progress. I do not think missing your own vacation, not using the tickets I got you to make up for my own idiocy, is going to make this process any better for him. It’s definitely not going to help you.” Abbot shrugs, looking back out over the river. The wind gusts, blowing Cam’s hair into her face, making her push the dampened strands away.
“I’m sorry, was that the conclusion of your sobriety shadow puppet theatre?” Cam says with a smirk, pushing her hair behind her ears.
“Can I kiss you?” Jack asks, turning to her, hands still in his pockets. Cam’s mouth goes dry, her face rushing with heat. A nervous laugh bubbles from her throat.
“What?” Cam asks, her voice cracking.
“I know it’s been a weird night, but apparently I am supposed to be more open and direct about things. Can I kiss you?” Jack repeats, turning to face her, the mist on his skin making one side of his face glow, while the other is draped in shadow.
“It’s been such a weird night. I…I’m exhausted.” Cam sighs, wishing she had that plastic spoon back to twist in her fingers. Her heart starts to ache in her chest, a wash of shame rolling over her.
“That’s okay. I’ll take you home.” Abbot says softly. He doesn’t seem upset, which Cam is relieved. He chats with her about things to do in Philadelphia, places to see, places to eat. She’s grateful they’ve settled despite her rejection, but even more grateful the drive is short.
“You can text me, you know. While you’re in Philly.” Jack says after he puts the car in park. Cam’s hand is on the door handle when she freezes again. “I would like to text you, if that’s okay.” Jack says, nervously twisting the steering wheel in his hands. Cam wants to speak, but it’s like her mouth is wired shut. She leans back into the car, letting go of the handle before the stupid part of her that wants to run out of the car takes over.
“I would like to text you. I would like another date. Maybe one that doesn’t end in my brother getting put on a psych hold.” Cam explains softly, shaking her head at her messy family. Jack remains silent in the car for a moment, making Cam think she really did hurt him more than she thought by rejecting the kiss. “Is that okay?” Cam asks, breaking the silence.
“I mean, I had kind of already planned the next one, so yeah, that’s okay.” Jack says, finally turning to her, that wry microscopic grin pulling on his mouth.
“Do I get to know what it is this time?” Cam says with a smirk.
“You hate surprises, don’t you?” Jack asks.
“I fucking hate surprises.” Cam laughs.
“You want a hint?” Jack offers, as she starts to get out of the car. “There might be dancing.” He says, turning the radio on, some funk music playing loudly as he rolls down all the windows.
“Roller Disco?” Cam laughs. “You better have your hot pants on then, when you pick me up next!” Cam says, heading up the stairs.
“Good night!” Jack yells over the Bootsy Collins song.
“Good night! Turn that racket down before the neighbors call the cops!” Cam laughs, getting her keys out of her purse.
“Now who’s old?!” Jack yells, turning the radio louder before driving back down the road.
Happy Memorial Day Weekend to all those who are off on Monday.
In true HCW fashion please remember the following:
Wear a helmet
Don't drive drunk
Don't ride in a car with someone who is drunk
Don't play with fireworks if you like your fingers.
Don't hang with people who think firearms are toys.
Road Rage is not worth your whole ass life.
I'm on call Monday, so let's not, M'Kay?
Without further ado, chapter twenty two!
This might be the last chapter for a bit. Shit's kicking off, and I am very busy.
Cam is trying to focus on not hurling in Jack’s car. He had insisted on driving her there, paid the bill, had them pack the coconut pudding, and they’re heading down Bigelow at a rapid pace. The V.A comes over the horizon and Cam’s heart leaps into her throat.
“I’m going to drop you off at the E.D entrance, I’m going to find a parking spot.” Jack says, turning into the winding roads that lead to the hospital entrance.
“It’s okay. I can take an Uber home. Thanks for the ride. ” Cam says, unbuckling her seatbelt and ensuring she has everything in her purse.
“Cam—” Jack says, parking the car, but Cam is out of the car and heading through the doors, dropping her purse in the bin for the scanner and stepping through the metal detector, not daring to look back at the doors closing behind her or looking at Jack as he pulls away.
The woman at the desk for the emergency department allows her back, only to be seated in a narrow alcove of chairs near a hallway labeled ‘Behavioral Health Unit’. Cam slouches forward in her seat, pulling her jacket in to herself. She checks her phone, but is relieved that no notifications are on the screen. She prays that by some miracle no one has called any other family and she can get a handle on the situation before her mother blows the doors off this hospital and sends Cam back in time to her childhood of dodging her mother’s mercurial moods.
Cam can’t help but look up from her seat, wondering if Abbot is already heading home. They finally exchanged numbers, so there’s no reason for him to knock on her door unexpectedly again, although the realization of that almost gives her a pang of sadness in her tumultuous heart. The idea that she should text him passes through her mind for a few seconds, before she realizes she can’t take any more stress, and the last thing she needs to worry about is Abbot texting her back. Cam slouches forward in her chair, rubbing her face with her hands when someone approaches.
“Are you the family of Owen Tighe?” Cam hears a woman ask. She sits upright, straightening her jacket and dress while nodding.
“Yes, I am.” Cam says softly, exhaling hard, her chest tightening.
“I’m Maria, I’m the Nurse Practitioner on the behavioral health team. What’s your name?” Maria asks in a low calm voice. Cam imagines in another life this woman could work for a podcast with her low, soothing tone.
“I’m Cam. Tighe. His sister.” Cam says haltingly, anxious to know what condition her brother is in since he was brought to the E.D.
“First, I want to tell you that your brother is doing well. He’s awake. He’s been admitted to the John Heinz campus’ recovery center, just a few blocks away, for our psychiatric residential rehabilitation program.” Maria explains calmly, sitting down next to Cam.
“Psychiatric? Don’t you mean drug rehabilitation? He relapsed, and overdosed? I was told they found him down.” Cam mumbles, brows furrowing. Maria pauses momentarily, before smiling at Cam, which makes Cam’s brow furrow further.
“Cam, you seem like a really good sister. I know Owen is grateful for you Maria says, before pausing again.. “ He told me you’re a scrub tech over at PTMC. Are you aware of his previous medical history?”
“Yes, I am. We really haven’t been that close, but I know about his accident that got him airlifted to Germany.” Cam explains with a sigh, picking at her nail polish she put on for her date. It feels so long ago, even though she’s probably been sitting in this chair for less than twenty minutes.
“So, your brother got in an accident when he was deployed, and our team looked at his old imaging. Compared to what we know now, he most definitely suffered from a traumatic brain injury.” Maria explains, making Cam huff out a sigh.
“I always assumed, but I couldn’t ever confirm it. I didn’t want to….He kept disappearing, and when he showed up, the last thing I wanted to do was push him away…by making him…do…anything.” Cam says, tears starting to fall, her breath suddenly hitching as she tries to form sentences.
“Cam, I’m sure you did your best. It’s never easy to watch family struggle, and you shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what you could at the time. The important part is that he is getting help now.” Maria explains, grabbing a box of tissues from a table behind her and passing it to Cam, who snatches one quickly to wipe her eyes. Maria continues as Cam tries to slow her hitching, hyperventilating inhales. “When he came in and woke up, our team assessed him, and he answered yes to almost all of our questions from our mood disorder questionnaire.”
“Mood disorder questionnaire?" Cam asks, her brow furrowing again, her heart racing.
“TBIs can cause a lot of long term problems for people, but also long term have been linked to bipolar disorders. Cam, this onset of BPD could be the root cause for your brother's behavior and substance use.” Maria announces softly. Cam stares at the floor, her mind racing through all the times she’s seen her brother since Landstuhl. Sometimes he was so happy. Now she’s wondering if he was manic, and she was selfish to not bother worrying about if he was too happy. Cam sighs, crossing her arms over her body, the rush of adrenaline with no outlet making her feel ill. She could really go for a crash thoracotomy right now, something to put all this heart-pounding adrenaline to good use.
“I just always thought the drugs happened because of the pain.” Cam says, a sudden rush of relief coming over her body, despite her body shaking and her mind churning.
“In cases like this, it’s often both. Chronic pain and mood disorders lend themselves really easily to substance abuse.” Maria says, nodding.
“So, he’s been self-medicating, is what you’re telling me.” Cam exhales, the clarity of the situation bringing her some relief.
“It’s very common. We all seek to self-soothe, sometimes in ways we don’t realize. You can go see him for now, but they’ll be transporting him down the road to the inpatient facility soon.” Maria says, standing. Cam stands with her, her knees shaking slightly. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“Uh, did you call any other family? Maureen and Norah?” Cam asks softly, her voice wavering. There’s so much to process, and the idea of having to explain this all to her sister and mother makes her feel ill again.
“Owen wanted to call you first.” Maria explains softly, a warm smile across her face. “He wanted to see you and then call them.”
Cam goes to speak, but tears flow down her face and she begins to sob. Ugly, chest racking bawling takes over, and she slams back into her seat. “I’m sorry. Just—I need a second. Can I? Can I have a second?” Cam asks softly as she wipes her eyes.
“You should take your time, and then you can go see him whenever you’re feeling up to it. Just tell the nurse at the desk when you’re ready.” Maria explains, before stepping away. Cam is gulping air, her throat sticky, desperate to compose herself. Cam uses the terrible tissues that feel like a piece of pine bark to wipe her eyes, inhaling a shuddering breath and exhaling slowly. She slows her breathing until her inhalations are no longer hitching, and stands to head toward the desk.
The haze of adrenaline and dread has enveloped Cam, as she asks the unit clerk where her brother is, getting directions to the room, traversing nearly identical hallways lit with the same horrific lighting as every hospital E.D. She feels like a zombie, trudging her way though the E.D, stopping by the desk to speak to a nurse before going to her brother’s room. She has to leave her purse at the nurse’s station, and tears begin to spill over her lashes as she walks to the room, seeing locked doors and safety glass on this side of the hall. The nurse badges the door, and pulls the door open quickly before the locking mechanism triggers again.
Owen is sat on the edge of the stretcher, his calves too thin for his tan hospital socks to stay up over his ankles, his head low as he hunches his frame over himself.
“Hi, Owen.” Cam says softly. His head shoots up to look at her, and her vision blurs with tears again.
“Cami. I’m sorry.” Owen croaks out. They begin to sob together, Cam squeezing her brother’s slight frame tightly.
“Don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. This isn’t your fault. You’re going to get help. Don’t you dare be sorry.” Cam murmurs to him between sniffles.
“At least this time—This time, I didn’t call mom.” Owen chokes out in a laugh. Cam coughs, chuckling.
“There is that.” Cam says, reaching for another cheap tissue on the only small surface in the room, which is bolted to the wall.
“Why do you look so nice? Did I interrupt a hot date?” Owen asks, sniffing as he takes a tissue from his sister.
“Uh, I was at dinner.” Cam sighs.
“With Jack?” Owen says in a falsetto, breathy voice. Cam feels heat rush to her blotchy face.
“Yeah, actually.” Cam mumbles softly, averting her brother's gaze, a small smile pulling at her lips.
“I’m sorry I ruined your date.” Owen says softly.
“No, don’t be. I’m glad you called me.” Cam sighs.
“You should get out of here, then. After all the bullshit I put you through, I shouldn’t ruin your chances at getting laid.” Owen says, sitting further back on the stretcher.
“Owen Cillian!” Cam hisses, the idea of her brother’s interest in her sex life painting disgust on her face.
“Camilla Doireann, you deserve to get laid.” Her brother announces with finality, crossing his arms, one fist holding balled-up tissue.
“I told him to drop me off. He’s probably already gone home. I’m getting an Uber home.” Cam explains, wiping her nose with another scratchy tissue.
“No way did he leave you here.” Owen snorts with a small laugh. “Seriously, my transport’s going to be here soon, and they have to call Mom and Maureen eventually.” Cam just stares at her brother, her heart no longer twisting in her chest, but nerves still fraying in her gut. “Cam, I’ve had your cell phone number listed first in my emergency contacts for years. I have it memorized. As soon as they let me have phone privileges, I’ll call you. I promise.”
“I was supposed to go to Philly this weekend. I’ll cancel it. I don’t—” Cam starts, but her brother touches her shoulder.
“Don’t you dare put your life on hold for me. I’m not going anywhere, at least for thirty days, likely more than ninety. Go. Go to Philly. Go get laid.” Owen says with a wry smile.
“It’s very concerning how interested you are in my sex life.” Cam says, eyebrow raised.
“Cam, if that guy doesn’t want to take you to bone town, I will eat my hat. My favorite hat.” Owen says, making Cam groan at her brother’s crassness. “Get out of here, before they call mom.” Owen says, bumping her shoulder with his own.
“When you call me, I will happily let you know the total of my Uber out of here, because I’m sure Jack has no interest in sitting in the waiting room for over an hour, especially when I told him to leave.” Cam says, standing.
“Cam, I have brain damage, and I know he’s not going anywhere.” Owen says with a small smile, making Cam snort out a laugh. “Go, Cami. I love you.” Owen says softly, his eyes misting in the corners. Cam’s vision blurs again as she whimpers out a reply, hitting a button to wait to be buzzed out of the room. Cam sniffles as she collects her things from the nurses desk, winding her way back out into the emergency room in a stupor.
“Good to see you, brother.” Cam hears a familiar voice say, as she sees Jack at the control desk of the E.D giving someone a hug. He’s down to his grey undershirt and his jeans, swinging around the corner toward Cam.
“Son of a bitch.” Cam whispers as he walks toward her, doing her best to not laugh aloud, her shoulders shaking despite her efforts. She can’t help picturing the look Owen would have on his face if he saw this.
“You ready to go?” Jack asks softly, putting his hands in his jean pockets. Cam nods, and they head for the exit.
