Summary: Nobody knows that (Y/n) is married to the frightening ortho surgeon. But when a patient attacks her, Park the shark is the only person (Y/n) is asking for and will let help her. The Pitt is shocked.
(Descriptions of patient becoming violent)
Enjoy.
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"You're a very competent doctor."
Was that supposed to be a compliment or a snide, sideways remark? Was that something to take kindly and say thank you for, or was it something (Y/n) should be taking offence to?
Unsure how to react, she couldn't quite hide the confusion or the unease from her expression as her brows furrowed and she lifted her head from the computer where she was sat. Her hands paused over the keyboard, halfway through typing up one of her patient charts to try and stay on top of them.
She had seen Trinity struggling for the last few days to try and get all her notes finished in a timely fashion so she didn't have to stay hours behind to do them. (Y/n) seemed to have a better time at getting on top of things than Trinity did at the moment.
Her eyes lifted so she was looking up at who gave her the odd compliment- if it could even be called that.
Oglvie.
He had been hovering around her quite a lot the past few days, which was starting to make (Y/n) feel drained. She didn't like how close he got when he hovered, whether he was observing or joining in and tending to a patient with her. He was just so off-handed, he could be crude with his remarks and he didn't care who he offended. If he graduated med school and became a resident, he was going to develop a God complex. (Y/n) had no doubt about that.
"Uh, thanks." Her lips pursed as she looked back down at her charts, hoping that he would take the hint that she didn't want to talk and wander off to hover and irritate someone else.
Instead, she felt him lean even closer as he arched forward and rested his forearms on the desk next to her, looking down at her as she tried to type up her notes. No way was (Y/n) dictating them onto the computer, not with the amount of errors that caused, especially when it picked up background chatter in her notes too.
"I'm sure I could learn a lot from you."
"I don't know about that." It seemed a modest answer, plus (Y/n) didn't want to agree because it would be like signing a contract to have Oglvie hovering over her twenty-four seven to observe and learn from her. Which she certainly didn't want.
"Probably even more, outside of work, don't you think?" Again, he spoke so casual and prompt as if it were just an observation or a truth he expected her to agree with.
That certainly was different from the other times people had tried to flirt with her at work. That would be down at the bottom of the list though.
All it had taken was one sharp look from Brendon in the beginning and a whispered pick up line in her ear about how he would 'open her eyes' to something that thankfully no one else in the trauma room had heard. Four years later and they were still together; no other pick up line had ever come close.
"So do you think-"
Whatever Oglvie was about to say was cut off promptly by Dana's arrival like a guardian angel who knew exactly when and where she was needed.
"How's that hubby of yours, I haven't seen him in a while."
She had one hand on her hip and the other arm slanted on the back of (Y/n)'s chair, looking down at her with that piercing look that told (Y/n) that Dana had got her back, she would stop this kid from pestering her.
(Y/n)'s hand instinctively moved to hover over her chest where her necklace hung low behind her scrubs where her engagement and wedding rings were seated neatly. Waiting to be slipped back onto her finger once she was out of this place.
"As sweet as always." She hummed quietly, looking up just in time to see Dana quirk a brow.
Now that was not a word that Dana would use to describe Doctor Park, but she suspected he must be very different on the other side of these hospital walls. Once he was out of work, away from the drama and concentration and pressure, he probably didn't need to use intimidation tactics or scowls.
It was very likely that he was loving and sweet when he wasn't here, but Dana couldn't picture such a burly man being anything but frightening. She knew it was true though, the amount of times (Y/n) would come to work with a smile on her face and that faraway look in her eyes as she toyed with the wedding ring on her chain.
Dana was the only one who knew that Brendon was (Y/n)'s husband. A few of the others knew that (Y/n) was married, though she never talked about him and kept her home life very private. And they had all seen the wedding ring on Brendon's finger.
It was always a shock to everyone to think that the shark was married, some thought he wore it as a joke. Especially Whitaker, he couldn't believe Brendon was anything different to how he was when he came by for a consult. Cold, snappy, quick-witted and brash.
"Hm. Well North six needs a doctor, have at it kid."
With a nod of her head, (Y/n) closed the tab on the computer and pushed up to her feet, not sparing Oglvie one glance as she snagged an Ipad and weaved around the desk.
They couldn't keep the patients waiting and if someone wanted her attention then (Y/n) needed to go. She would never refuse an order from Dana, she wouldn't dare.
Her fingers darted around the screen as she weaved in and out of nurses rushing past to go about their jobs. She clicked on the room number to find the patient assigned to the room, briefly glancing over the notes as she tucked the Ipad against her elbow to get on a fresh pair of gloves. The door opened easily when her hip pressed on the handle and she headed inside, nudging it closed with her foot.
"Hi Dylan, I'm Doctor (Y/l/n). Am I okay to take a quick look at you and see what we're dealing with today?"
The patient was sat on the bed, though he sat forward like he was about to drop his head down into his knees. He had one hand scratching the back of his neck so methodically it was like he was trying to scratch all of his hair out, not that he had that much hair to begin with.
When he didn't respond, (Y/n) approached the side of the bed and sat down on the stool. She was tender as she pressed her finger beneath his chin and tilted his head up a little so she could see to the wound on his temple, her Ipad now resting on the unit beside her.
He didn't seem bothered when she began to clean the wound on his temple. His eyes constantly darted from his lap up to look at (Y/n) and then went back down to his hands that were now fiddling on his lap. He was shaking his hands and curling his fingers like he was losing sensation in his hands, but (Y/n) guessed it was because he was high and packed with adrenaline.
His chart said they had picked him up from a brawl in the street and there had been drugs found. They suspected by his behaviour that he was either drunk or high.
(Y/n) worked in silence, mainly because he didn't seem to care and didn't want to interact with her. He didn't flinch when she applied some suture strips to keep the wound closed since it wasn't deep enough for glue and small enough that this was better than stitches.
"You're pretty." His voice was almost as sleezy as the smile that suddenly appeared on his face.
His words took her by surprise, mainly because they had been sat in silence for a good five minutes before now.
He reached his hand out, whether to touch her cheek or maybe cup her face, (Y/n) wasn't sure but it didn't matter since she cautiously leaned to one side to be just out of his reach. But not enough that she offended him or looked rude.
"Thank you. Can I set you up on the monitor?" She pointed to the ECG machine in the corner and grabbed the clips that would need to be attached to his chest, but he didn't reply.
This time, when (Y/n) leaned over him and tried to motion to his chest, he seemed to come to life. His arm flung out and whacked her wrist, sending her arm jolting down to the side and causing a dull sensation to sting towards her elbow.
So he didn't want the monitors on.
(Y/n) took a deep breath and put them down. He wasn't about to go into cardiac arrest and he had refused, she couldn't force him to wear the monitors.
"Head up for me please." She swiped the flashlight from her top pocket and leaned in front of him so she could check his eyes.
He grunted and pulled back when (Y/n) lifted his eyelid and shone the light over his pupils. They were blown wide and not reacting as good to light changes. His nose scrunched and he huffed when (Y/n) grabbed a stethoscope and listened to his breathing and his heart, but he didn't hit her away this time.
The police at the scene thought he might be concussed after the fighting that had broken out and had gotten his head bashed against a brick wall. He was here more for observation and to go for an MRI than any immediate wound care.
(Y/n) wondered if he was mute and sometimes unresponsive because of the concussion. He certainly needed an observation for a good few hours to make sure he didn't have any adverse reactions, and he needed a scan to check for any bleeding or trauma to the brain.
"Can I take a blood sample from you, and then we can get you scheduled for an MRI."
(Y/n) moved over to the small unit in the corner of the room and got what she needed to take some bloods. She pulled the small stool over towards the bed and sat down, laying the items down in a dish on the side table.
His left arm was closest to her and (Y/n) tried to be tender and careful when she pulled the blue elastic around his bicep to cut off his circulation. The action made him grunt again and he looked down at her with a raised brow and confusion plastered on his face.
"What're you doing?"
"I need to take some bloods from you, it will sting a little but only for a few seconds. Okay?" She got the needle ready and poised at the crease of Dylan's elbow, but the moment she tried to slide it into his vein, he came alive.
His grip was fierce when he scrunched his hand around her wrist and yanked until the needle was pulled away from his vein after barely scratching a drop of blood. He pulled (Y/n)'s arm towards his lap until it felt like her shoulder was going to dislocate and she had to fight to get her hand out of his hold.
"Listen, just sign the forms so I can get out of here."
(Y/n) took a deep breath and got to her feet when Dylan swung his legs over the side and hopped onto very unsteady feet. She didn't want to fight him, but he really did need to stay here for observation. If not, she would have to go and get Robby to talk to him and get him to sign a waver if he was adamant that he was leaving.
"I'd really advise against that, you've got concussion. Why don't you sit down and when I've taken some bloods, we can get you set up on an IV." (Y/n) couldn't discharge him in this state, not without him signing the waver but even then she wasn't sure he was in a fit, coherent state to understand it.
"How about we do somethin' else instead?"
"Would you like a different doctor or even a nurse to come do your bloods and do a neurological exam, and I'll go ahead and book that MRI for you?"
"Hm, I don't think so sweetheart."
He moved far quicker than (Y/n) would have anticipated for someone in his concussed state. Before she could step back, there was a hand gripping ferociously around her left wrist and her hand was bent at such an angle with sudden force that her whole arm trembled and it felt like her wrist was going to snap.
Her free hand grabbed his wrist and she pushed her effort into her arm to try and make him relent. Any second now she was expecting to hear her wrist snap from the brute force he was using.
"Let go."
Her hand was trembling when Dylan finally relented and released her wrist that was pulsing from lack of blood to her fingers.
She coiled both arms to her chest and tried to take a deep breath. This was a case she was going to have to hand over to someone else. Maybe Donny, he was good with tempermental patients like this or even Robby if he was free for five minutes. She might have to ask security to come and keep an eye on him too.
If Dana were in here right now she would have lost her temper at seeing someone grabbing at the staff. She took staff safety very seriously and if anyone so much as rose their voice at a worker, Dana would be there sitting them back down and putting them in their place.
"Oh, you wanna play?"
No. No she did not.
Her wrist was already pulsing in a manner that told her it was going to bruise later, and if Brendon saw bruises on her skin he would be in a sour mood at work and become overprotective at home. The only kind of bruises (Y/n) accepted on her skin were the hickeys Brendon liked to leave beneath the collar of her scrubs.
She was already aiming for the door to escape when those rough hands clamped down on her hips and tried to yank her back. His fingers were pressured and his nails pinched against her skin as he yanked her so forcefully that her feet bent at odd angles and she stumbled.
"No- no get off. Now." It didn't seem to matter how stern she made her tone or how demanding and loud she shouted the words. Either he was too zoned out to hear them, or he simply didn't care.
(Y/n) tried to stumble forwards when she felt his grip releasing, but she shrieked when his hand switched from her hip to latch into her hair tied up to be out of her face. Her scalp burned from the tension and the force and tingles spread throughout her nerves beneath her skin as she crashed into his chest when he yanked her backwards.
She had never been in this situation and she didn't imagine she ever would be, either.
Most of the people down in the ER were seeking help, they didn't want to lash out or cause inappropriate situations because they knew their care could be refused and they could be sent out. They got angry when they had to wait, sure, or when they thought someone else was getting preferential treatment, but it was usually raised voices or a push or grab of the wrist they had to deal with.
Physical assault was a once in a full moon kind of thing, it happened just enough to have everyone aware and vigilant, but not enough to be an every day occurrence.
"Where'd you think you're going?"
He seemed to try and twist (Y/n) around to face him, but she fought against him, turning her body in the direction of the door, desperate for an escape. And she tried her best not to turn her head in his direction, wanting to face anywhere but at him so he knew by her body language that she was not okay with this.
Both (Y/n)'s arms coiled up in front of her but it did no use. She predicted Dylan would swoop down and try to kiss her, with the way he was pulling her back to him and leering down at her. She didn't expect him to thrust her to the side and crash her into the bedframe. The beds in the emergency room all had plastic frames with rails around the sides and at the bottom to keep patients stable and secure.
That plastic frame felt like metal when (Y/n)'s forehead collided with it and when Dylan slammed into her, the left side of her chest cracked against the bed frame. It knocked all the air from her lungs in the form of a scream and her eyes snapped closed as she felt her body tingling and turning numb.
She crashed to the floor, gasping and trembling through coughs and when her body seemed to come back under her control, (Y/n) could feel a horrible ache pounding in her chest.
Had she broken her ribs? She'd never broken anything other than her fingers before. She didn't know what it was supposed to feel like, but this horrible impaling feeling was close enough.
Her arms were trembling too much and her hands were too numb to try and push herself onto her side or belly to get her hands and knees working and get herself up. She was willing to crawl out of here if it would get her out and safe in a timely fashion, but nothing was coming back under her control.
When a loud thump beside her signalled that Dylan had landed to his knees and she could feel his fumbling hands scratching and clawing at her, she screamed.
She wasn't ashamed to belt out a scream, which ended in a cough from the tightness of her ribs aching and pressing into her lungs until they were shrivelled up and empty. Her body writhed, arms still encased to her chest despite the pulsing aches that rolled through her and made her feel like she was her heart personified, her whole being tensing and squeezing in time with her throbbing, erratic heart.
Her heels scraped against the floor, trying to move herself in some fashion, but she couldn't fight off Dylan's hand that wrapped around her throat.
What little air she could scrape in, bellowed out into "No⊠h- help!" as she began to flail her legs and tried to jab her elbows at Dylan while her gloved hands raked down his wrists and arms.
Nothing worked. She couldn't sit up, and she couldn't move Dylan off her either.
Someone had to hear her. Someone had to come to her aid and get this man off of her. They had to stop him before he did some real damage or did something unforgiveable, because (Y/n) couldn't fend him off on her own and she was already losing the battle.
A sob got stuck in the back of her throat when the door swung open so fast it collided with the wall and made the window frames shudder and the glass vibrate. As much as (Y/n) had yelled for help and was relieved she would soon get out of this situation, that also meant having her colleagues seeing her in such a state. She didn't like the thought of that.
Her eyes remained closed though it did nothing to stop the tears that flushed down her face and soaked into her hair. Bubbling gasps left her lips when the hand was finally released from her throat and she could actually breathe without feeling like she was sucking in air through a straw.
Something akin to "Fucking bitch!" blundered past Dylan's lips when hands were grappling with his shoulders.
(Y/n) didn't need to open her eyes to know who had grabbed Dylan. She could hear Robby telling him to stop, to relent and get the Hell off one of their doctors. She was sure it was Jesse who was also telling him to back off, clearly the both of them were pulling him out of the room, yelling for security to come over.
(Y/n) tried to open her eyes when she knew he was no longer there to pose a threat, but she could barely see a thing for the spots covering her vision.
She could hear Dylan screaming and the thrashing about in the hall, they hadn't managed to get him far away. They would have to sedate him. (Y/n) knew the drill, she knew a psychotic outburst like this meant they would sedate him and strap his wrists to the bedframe so he couldn't hurt anyone else when he came round. He would be in room two with the foam bed and walls and the door that only opened from the outside.
"(Y/n)? It's okay hun, let me take a look at you."
Shudders rolled through (Y/n)'s frame when she felt Dana's cautious touch on her shoulders, trying to help her up into a sitting position so she didn't have to lie on her back trying to curl into a ball.
A horrible, thumping headache raged behind her eyes when she was finally sitting up, and the more she tried to breathe deeply, the worse her coughing became until shallow puffs was all she could manage.
She felt Dana's fingers ghosting over her neck that was no doubt bruised, her windpipe one inch away from being crushed in the attack. But she flinched away from the touch. Her head craned to her left despite the ache it caused and she bound her arms around her aching chest until she was curling forwards towards her knees that she brought up to her abdomen.
"HeyâŠ" Trinity tested the waters with a hand to (Y/n)'s lower leg, closer to her ankle than her knee to try and make her feel more comfortable.
She earned a jerk of (Y/n)'s leg pushing at her side to get her off. (Y/n) didn't want to be touched, by any of them. Her feet shuddered as she dug them into the floor and pushed herself back, scooting across the floor on her bum until her back was up against the far wall.
"Br- BrendonâŠ"
"Is that his name?" Trinity's head snapped to the left, looking towards the door where Jesse and Ahmed had the guy pinned on his stomach on the floor with his hands behind his back while they waited for someone to bring them a sedative.
A quiet moan left (Y/n)'s lips before she uttered "Park. I- I wa- I want Park."
Utter confusion draped across Trinity's face, her nose scrunching up as she looked at Dana. Why on Earth did (Y/n) want the shark himself to come down here? Did she want him to be some form of security and protection? Granted, he was intimidating without having to say a word, but they already had the attacker pinned and under control.
"You want the shark? Why?"
She didn't want anyone else's help. (Y/n) wouldn't let any of them touch her and if they tried, she was going to scream. The only person she wanted was her husband.
With a deep breath, Dana reached across and touched Trinity's arm, ticking her head to one side to signal for her to leave the room and give them some space.
As soon as Trinity was out the door, Dana murmured "I'll call him hun," before she too got up and left the room.
"Princess, Whitaker." She hollered as she stepped out the door and caught sight of them both. "Get in there and keep an eye on her, see if you can check her over, she's wheezing, might have broken ribs. I need to make a call."
The sound of incoming footsteps made (Y/n) wince. Her arms were pressing down against her chest so tightly she could scarcely breathe, and with her knees coiled up too, she was compressing herself far too much. If she stayed like this she wasn't going to get in enough breath and she would pass out. But she didn't want to move. She couldn't, her body wasn't cooperating anymore.
It was too much effort to open her eyes, and (Y/n) wasn't sure she would be able to keep them in focus even if she managed to open them.
"Are you hurt?"
(Y/n) found herself holding her breath when she heard Whitaker's voice. He sounded so close, and she cringed at the sound of him snapping a pair of latex gloves over his hands. It sounded like a whip cracking against her ear.
"Can you open your eyes for me?" His voice was soft, full of understanding that (Y/n) didn't want to hear.
Nor did she want to open her eyes, but she felt another pair of hands reaching out for her, trying to warmly touch her arm to gain her attention or give her comfort, she wasn't sure which, nor did she care.
It seemed easier to open her eyes, to know who was trying to check her over and calm her down.
It was Princess knelt beside her, that calm look etched across her face with sorrow building up in her eyes. She retracted her hand from (Y/n)'s thigh when she realised the touch was provoking her to start shaking uncontrollably.
Now that she had her eyes open, Whitaker leant forward until his stomach creased and his chest was near his knees so he could be level with how confined and compact (Y/n) had become. He shone his pen light over her eyes which constricted as they should, before he reached for the stethoscope around his neck and gently pressed the bell to her chest to hear her heart. Erratic.
He hated the way she flinched when he moved his hand to her shoulder, trying to ease her away from the wall just an inch or two so he could move the stethoscope bell to her back and listen to her breathing. Crackling, just like Dana suggested.
Whitaker sighed and looked over at Princess. They couldn't move (Y/n) yet when she was still this shook up, and they couldn't give her a proper exam or try and help her injuries when she would barely let them look at her. It was going to take a while.
Robby's hands fell to his hips once he watched Donny, Jesse and Ahmed struggle to get the patient down the hall to central two.
God, he was going to have a lot to deal with. Making a report, calling Gloria to inform her what had happened, getting the police involved. Sorting that patient and making sure he was well enough to be taken by the police into custody once they were called down here. And he didn't even want to think how this was going to affect (Y/n) and how she had already been hurt.
Tilting his head back, Robby stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes for a few moments, breathing through his nose as he tried to regulate his system and gather his thoughts and senses.
He wasn't sure what made him open his eyes first. Perhaps it was the little murmurs he could hear, the whispers that got his attention over the dull atmosphere in the ER that had gone quiet after hearing the screams of one of their own residents. Maybe it was the harsh, thundering steps that seemed to shake the walls which caught his ear.
Whatever it was, Robby looked around until his brows furrowed and his gaze set on someone he hadn't expected to see down here.
"Shark, we didn't call up to Ortho for a consult-"
"Personal call."
No one had called for a consult with Ortho, and that was the last thing on any of their minds when they all needed to get back in order down here. They needed to look after (Y/n) and get her checked out.
Robby's eyes narrowed, lips curling into a look of perplexion as he watched the younger man pass him by without a second glance. Brendon looked like he was a man on a mission, in a complete world of his own. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, so tight and compact that there seemed to be no blood flow past his knuckles to his fingers.
His breathing was very laboured, his chest rising and falling like he was straining against his dark navy scrubs that looked too tight and about to shred to pieces over his broad frame.
His expression was the most frightful part of him. Those narrowed eyes with frown lines etched across his temple. That pointed nose looking striking and fearfl combined with the straight line his lips were meshed into. His jaw tight and tense, muscles cutting themselves on the sharp jawbones as his neck tensed and strained.
Robby didn't miss the look on Donny's face when he clocked the orthopedic surgeon walking briskly down the hall. He watched the nurse turn in the other direction to be out of Brendon's path, muttering under his breath:
"Shark attack."
He looked a frightful man on a mission; but no one knew what that mission was or where it would lead him.
With her arms folded over her chest, Trinity leant to her left towards Victoria. "(Y/n) wanted him here; maybe she thought some muscle might stop the guy from trying again. Shark does look like a bouncer."
She gave a little shrug after her words, unsure what else could be the reason (Y/n) had asked for one of their most frightening colleagues. No one asked for Shark to come down here unless they had a dire patient that met his high standards. As annoying and blunt as Garcia could be, they all preferred to deal with her.
And here (Y/n) was, actually asking for the shark himself. But no patient would dare mess with him. He could stand outside the room as if acting security, and no one would dare utter a word to him or attempt to get past him.
Brendon ignored every pair of eyes that was now attached and oggling him like he was an alien that had landed right in their laps.
He didn't need to ask where to go, it was rather evident with the crowd gathering outside the room on his right that his wife was in there. No doubt about it. And he was glad the door was open so he didn't have to barge in and frighten her, though he didn't mind intimidating her colleagues if it would mean they would listen and do as he said.
Whitaker's hands twitched on his lap and his ankles burned from how he was crouched beside (Y/n). But he didn't want to move away from her in case she calmed down enough for an exam, and he couldn't leave the room. They needed to check her over at some point and get her help, and he and Princess were in the room to make sure no one else got in or caused any drama.
Although when he looked up at the sound of impending footsteps, he felt like his heart had been given a shock with the defibrilator.
"Shark, wh- why're you down here for an assault?"
Who on Earth had called for him? If he was here for a consult then he was in the wrong room. If he was here for an assault, then he had well and truly lost his mind.
"Get out."
"What?" Whitaker's mouth scrunched up to one side and his nose curled at the end as he stared at Brendon.
Normally he could never bear to look at Brendon for long, he was too intimidating and always came out with snide remarks that Whitaker couldn't find an answer or rebuttal to. But that was just plain rude. Who did he think he was, ordering them about in their own department, especially when this was not his speciality?
He almost cowered back when Brendon's head snapped in his direction and those dark eyes narrowed in on him.
"You deaf now as well as incompetent? Get out."
The gravelly tone to Brendon's voice and the way he snarled the words made Whitaker take an involuntary shuffle away from (Y/n). But when Brendon clicked his fingers at the door and ticked his chin up, Whitaker's jaw loosened and he found himself aiming for the door with hands curling into tight fists. He wasn't going to argue in front of a colleague when she was clearly shell shocked, but he wasn't going to forget this either.
Princess stayed knelt by the side of the bed, her eyes wide and lips pressed together in a tight pout as she looked up at Brendon, waiting to be told whether or not she too had to leave the room.
He didn't say anything when she shuffled back a few paces, but he didn't tell her to get out either. He let her stay where she was near the bed, he didn't mind a nurse staying just in case he needed an extra pair of hands when helping (Y/n).
His hands moved to his knees as he slowly lowered himself down to kneel on the floor in front of (Y/n) who was still cowering back against the wall.
With a deep breath, Brendon leant forward, taking his time as he slowly moved his hands towards her legs. His touch was so precise and careful that (Y/n) wondered if she had suddenly started to imagine it in her haste to have her husband down here with her.
His hands traced a path up (Y/n)'s legs until they were carefully laid over her knees which he eased away from her chest and pushed down until her legs were laid down against the floor. He didn't want her curling up like this, hiding herself away from him, especially if she was hurt and making any of her injuries worse.
He hated to see her cowering back like this, hands clasped over her face like she couldn't bear to look at anyone. But the moment those hands lowered and those watering eyes blinked into focus, it was like a spotlight had beamed down upon (Y/n).
"Brendon," relief lit up (Y/n)'s voice now that he was here in front of her. His features looked like they were carved out of stone, but the longer their gazes interlocked, the more he started to loosen up and mellow down.
A quiet sob bubbled past (Y/n)'s lips when he leant over and took her hands cautiously in his. The feeling of his thumbs smoothing across the back of her hands made her shake.
She watched the intensity in Brendon's eyes as he studied her hands which he turned over to examine every inch of skin. She saw his gaze lingering on the bruises on her left wrist where his fingers danced over each mark beginning to blossom and appear as the seconds ticked by.
Her stuttering breaths lodged in her throat and halted completely when one of Brendon's hands let go of her hand in favour of curling beneath her chin instead. His thumb traced the dip in her chin, fingers soft yet firm and intent as they pressed into the underside of her chin near her throat.
He tilted her head back towards the wall, making her eyes strain to keep looking at him rather than up at the ceiling where her head was aimed.
His other hand reached out for her skin and he was relieved she didn't flinch or pull away from him like he knew she would have if Whitaker or any of her other colleagues tried to check her over. Brendon knew the moment he stepped into the room that they had gotten nowhere trying to examine and look after his wife. She would shut down in situations like this; they didn't know her as well as he did.
The pad of his fingers traced her throat, over her trachea and the soft skin and muscles on the sides of her neck where fingerprints were starting to appear and would no doubt linger for a few days.
The expression on Brendon's face made (Y/n) wince.
He was livid.
Brendon almost pulled away when (Y/n) sobbed. He blinked, snapping out of the rage fuelled trance he seemed to have slipped into as he noted the injuries and bruises that should not be tainting his wife's skin.
He didn't have any chance to pull away before (Y/n) was moving instead.
He tensed up so she didn't topple him over with her force as she shuffled up from where she was sat against the wall so her weight was now on her knees instead. (Y/n) smothered her face into Brendon's scrubs until each breath she took fanned against his sternum and made heat and moisture cling to his skin.
Despite the ache it caused within her, (Y/n) wound her arms around his chest and shuffled until her knees were resting in between Brendon's know parted thighs. Her frame was totally engulfed by him, encased in his arms that slowly curved around her to keep her safe and show her that no one was going to try and break her out of his embrace. He wouldn't let that happen.
Tilting his head down, Brendon smothered his lips and nose into her hair, quietly hushing her as one hand curled around the back of her neck and the other arm secured rather loosely around her waist as not to inflict any pain onto her. He didn't know the extent of her injuries.
He found himself rocking back and forth until his knees and ankles were aching and throbbing against the floor with each movement.
"I've got you sweetheart. You're alright now."
With a jaw that was almost dropping down to the floor, Whitaker turned to one side and waved his hand towards Trinity. He tried to be discreet when he pointed to the window he was stood beside; he had left the room as Brendon requested but he didn't move farther than the door. He wanted to be nearby in case he and Princess were needed to help (Y/n). Clearly no one else but the shark was necessary.
"She's married to the Shark?" He found himself muttering as Trinity leaned to take a look, eyes widening in the process.
"Damn, I didn't guess that⊠I've never seen him look so, so human."
A good two minutes passed with Brendon's arms encased around (Y/n) and his broad, stoic frame slowly moving them back and forth. He turned his head so his cheek was against her hair and his eyes closed as he tried to focus on taking deep, calming breaths so he didn't get too wound up and lose his temper. He could wait until he set his sights on whatever manic patient did this to lose his temper with them.
He could feel (Y/n)'s breaths changing from shallow sobs and hiccups to mellow, short puffs. But every now and then her nails would dig into his skin and she would flinch like breathing was causing her some kind of pain or issue.
Loosening his arms around her, Brendon leaned back on his heels and slid his hand from the back of her neck to nudge her chin up once again.
"What's hurting?"
(Y/n) didn't want to, but she undid her tight grip on his scrubs and shakily hovered her left hand over her chest. "I hit the bed, when he pushed me."
She bit back a whimper when Brendon shuffled back a bit so he could look at her without craning his neck down to see properly.
(Y/n) bit down on her lip and closed her eyes as he nudged her arms out so he could gently press his fingertips down on her ribs. He checked each rib on both sides, going along and tracing them like he was a oersonal X-ray machine that could feel the breaks he was searching for.
The three times (Y/n) mewled and flinched away from his touch where when he felt the fourth, fifth and seventh rib on her left side, more on the curve of her waist than near the front of the back. A rough place to break them.
A growl vibrated past Brendon's lips as his nose curled angrily. "I count three broken ribs; we'll book you an X-ray soon."
When (Y/n) flopped her head into his chest and groaned, Brendon curled his hand around the back of her neck and pressed a longing kiss to her temple.
"Are we gonna sit on the bed now sweetheart, rather than the floor?"
Although it was a question, Brendon didn't wait for an answer. He could feel how relaxed (Y/n) had gone against him so when he moved his hands down to cup over her hips, he felt no resistence as he moved to get up. (Y/n)'s hands pressed down on his shoulders as he got to his feet from his aching knees and slowly hauled (Y/n) up with him, his lips searing a kiss into her temple along the way.
Seeing them move, Princess too got to her feet and moved out of the way, though her eyes were still as wide as black holes as she watched how easily Brendon had calmed (Y/n) down and convinced her to move.
He turned her around until the edge of the bed was pressing up against the back of her knees and (Y/n) sat down with Brendon stood in between her thighs. Her face now cupped in his hands so he could lean down and capture her lips in a warm, heart-felt kiss.
"How are we doing in here?" Robby's voice was soft, quiet, testing the waters in case Brendon told him to get out or give them a few more minutes alone.
But he had managed to get (Y/n) calm, up and sat on the bed and he had clearly looked over her injuries, which was further than anyone else had gotten when they tried to help her.
"She needs an X-ray and then an exam with your head nurse." The X-ray was the first and foremost thing that (Y/n) needed right now, but Brendon knew she would still need to be checked over after that, and help with a bandage around her chest if her ribs were broken like he suspected.
He knew Dana was the one person (Y/n) would be most comfortable with helping her with that.
"Okay, I'll make the call now."
"You better not have let him get away with this." Brendon's head turned sharply to the left, locking eyes with Robby as a dark look passed his pupils. He hadn't been told the specifics. When Garcia passed the phone to him and said Dana wanted to speak to him specifically, Brendon had been a little more than confused.
When he got told that a patient had attacked his wife, he hung up the phone and got in the lift, no questions asked and no explanations given as to where he was going. He hoped they had apprehended the patient and didn't let him get out of the ER after this. Brendon would make all their lives a living Hell if they had let him abscond.
Shaking his head and pointing behind him, Robby sighed. "He's in central two, padded room all locked and secured."
The attending had a sneaking suspicion that security would have one Hell of a job trying to keep Brendon out of that room to teach the patient 'some manners.'
Today I was listening to Jane Goodall being interviewed and she said something I knew about but had forgotten. The whole reason she went off to Africa to study chimps in the wild was because she was madly in love with Tarzan. Huge fangirl!
"He married the wrong Jane!" she laughed.
But she was so caught up in the romance of it all that she literally went off to live with chimps at a time when field studies of wild animals simply did not exist, and women were not taken very seriously as scientists. And basically invented a whole approach to studying wild animals that is standard today, changed everything we know about chimps, and became one of nature's biggest champions.
Because she loved real animals and one fictional man.
âWe didnât have all this autism when I was a kidâ
Yea, you had changelings and demonic possession and âbratsâ and âback talkâ, and kids that were ânot all thereâ, your aunt whoâs âcrazyâ, and your second cousin no one ever talks about cuz heâs âspecialâ, and if youâre fucking lucky, your elder uncle who lives a nice quiet life with his 70 lego sets and writes grocery stores about changing the light bulbs cuz theyâre too harsh.
Hassan, just 19, dreams of opening a soup kitchen in Gaza to feed families who are going to bed hungry every night. He has the skills, a space, and groceries within reach but without our urgent support, his pots will stay empty while children starve. Every donation goes directly to him daily, turning your kindness into warm meals and hope please give, share, and help keep his dream alive.
Hassan, 19, has a dream - to feed the forgotten ones of Gaza. Before the war, he and his father would cook and share meals with neighbours i
Summary: A story of an ex-army doctor still haunted by his past who strives to maintain control of his emotions and a nurse with a sixth sense for the emotions of others that everyone has come to rely on- will a traumatic event force them to confront their true feelings for each other or pull them apart forever?
Tags/Warnings: age gap, yearning, too scared to admit they're in love, empath!reader, angst, panic attacks, comfort, descriptions of blood and pittfest, trauma, happy ending
Word Count: 4.3K & AO3 link
Authorâs Note: This may not be everyoneâs cup of tea but I could not stop thinking about writing this. I also have absolutely no medical knowledge so enjoy!Â
The Pitt - Night Shift
The faint beeping of monitors and clicks of the keyboard mesh with the sounds of patients and staff. The fluorescent lights arenât the only thing landing on your skin, you feel his stare from chairs away. It doesnât make you uncomfortable, quite the opposite, it sends a warm feeling rushing through you and when you peek up you catch sight of his silver curls twinkling in the light.Â
Dr. Jack Abbott canât help it, after two years of working alongside you he doesnât get tired of tracing the slope of your nose or watching the way you bite your lip in concentration. He stopped trying to be discreet a long time ago even after repeatedly being caught by Dr. Robby or Dr. Ellis. Youâre both snapped out of your thoughts by the sirens approaching the ambulance bay. By the time the EMTs enter the Pitt youâre standing next to Jack at the ready.Â
âMan in his late sixties- disoriented and aggressive. He was distributing patrons outside of a nightclub and eventually someone knocked him down,â the EMT summarized as they wheeled in the man who was strapped down to the gurney. He wasnât saying anything comprehensible, only letting out grunts as he attempted to free himself.Â
âPsych eval?â Jack tilts his head.Â
âYup, no ID or other identification found with him. Probably homeless and off his meds,â the EMT replied.Â
âGive me a moment with him,â you step forward, not entirely convinced. Jackâs eyes narrow slightly at the patient who began to twist in his restraints again. Unease grows in his gut but he learned a long time ago not to question you.Â
âDonât get too close to him yet, we may need sedation.âÂ
He stands at the door watching the interaction closely, his body taut in preparation to intervene. The soldier inside him never left him, those instincts embedded into his bones.Â
Slowly you approach the older man, quietly assessing him. Jack watches your hand hover over the patientâs arm for a moment, but what you do is still a mystery to him.Â
Eventually it becomes clear to you what he needs. âYou must be very tired and thirsty. Itâs been a long day,â you murmur softly. This made the man go still, eyes widening as he nodded urgently. He was mute, everything he wanted to say stuck inside him at this moment but his emotions were clear.Â
âWeâre here to help you,â you give him a reassuring smile as you back away towards the door. The moment you turn, youâre face to face with Jack. You force yourself to stay concentrated on your task and not on Jackâs handsome features. âHeâs not homeless, he feels lost and he misses home. Heâs also extremely thirsty, so heâs dehydrated which is why he was disoriented and acting out. He wasnât able to ask for help because heâs mute,â you explain.Â
âNot a Psych case then,â he concurs, impressed once more.Â
âThe usual tests will let us know how dehydrated he is and if thereâs other underlying causes. This is a case for the night shift social worker to help with, they just need to find out who he is and where he lives. I think he has family,â you reach for the IV kit.Â
âThanks Sherlock Holmes.âÂ
Thereâs no malice or sarcasm in his tone, just his usual dry wit which youâve come to love. You can see the wheels turning in his head and although heâs never asked questions, you know he keeps trying to figure out how youâre so good at reading patients.Â
Intuition, your grandmother winked at you one day when you asked if she had what you had. A curse, your mother declared before she had left for good, not able to handle what she was born with. Overactive empathy was what you had come to call it. It had been overwhelming at first, discovering that as you got in close proximity to someone you could identify their emotions and feel them yourself, all of them. It took many years to build up your control to a point where you felt you could be around people. Out of nursing school you spent your first few years in hospice care, holding the hand of those making their way out of this world, watching the hazy colors around them fade into nothing. Soon the time came to try something new and you found yourself standing in the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Emergency Department, hoping to make a difference and make use of your ability in a new way.Â
It was an open secret, the little trick you had up your sleeve. No one put a specific label on it and on one questioned it. Anytime you interacted with a patient who needed that extra level of support, with a simple glance or press of your hand to their shoulder you seemed to read their emotions to a tee. It had also helped de-escalate potentially dangerous situations, preventing many fights in the halls of the Pitt. In this world, it was all about the patient and being able to read them was an asset. Their feelings and experiences are half of the story when they walk in through the doors.Â
Grabbing your backpack from your locker you take your time walking back to the nursing station to clock out. It gives you time to admire Jack who stands at the counter, his blue eyes flickering across the screen. Dr. Abbot - the broody, stalwart and incredibly selfless man who captured your heart. Not that you would ever admit it, you were years younger and convinced he could do much better. What catches your attention is his posture, heâs leaning heavily against the counter hoping no one can notice his discomfort.Â
âIs it bothering you again?â you whisper as you stand next to him. Jack grimaces as he flexes the prosthetic foot under his khakis, internally kicking himself for showing a trace of weakness. Â
âI have no idea what youâre talking about,â he grits out.Â
âLiar,â you muse, swiping your badge to clock out for the night.Â
His face turns stoic as he stares you down, intimidating as hell to others but not to you. You stare right back, waiting until one of you inevitably cracks. His dimples pop out as he lets out a hearty laugh. Several people send you curious looks, an Abbot laugh was rare.Â
âIt's not fair if you use that trick on me,â he pretends to sound mad. Not that you would ever intentionally violate his privacy by delving further than his surface area emotions.Â
âItâs not like I can read minds.â
âItâs close enough.â
âI donât have to use anything on you Abbot. It's clear as day.â
He feels that familiar swoop in his stomach at your words, forcing himself to not say anything stupid.Â
âWill you be here tomorrow?â
âIâll be here, just in case you pick up another shift,â you tease, finally starting to walk away. He winks at you and you feel like youâre floating on clouds all the way home.Â
The Pitt - Day Shift
Today was a never ending roller coaster and it was going to give you whiplash. Angry patients, argumentative family members, interpersonal drama, fucking rats. Then Dana had gotten punched, which had rattled all of the nurses. It had brought you to tears seeing her bruised face and bloody nose, your mentor and dear friend. She had shushed you in a motherly fashion, assuring you and everyone else she would live long enough to finish the shift as long as she had another cigarette.Â
It was also the first day for new residents and medical students, another layer to the never ending day. You took it in stride as always offering helpful advice and keeping an eye on them for Robby making sure they didnât mess up too badly. Some had already latched onto you, King and Whittaker frequently asking you to join them on patient care.Â
You could immediately sense that today was an off day for Robby, as you assisted with his difficult cases you could see the strain behind his eyes and his increasing use of the word fuck. He also kept asking you about what the patients were feeling long after they had died. It wasnât a good sign.Â
âIs he asking you about dead people again?â Dana hands you a cup of tea. You nod.Â
âChrist Almighty heâs a morbid one,â she shakes her head with a sad smile. âWish Collins hadnât left early, she knows how to get him back on track.â
....
âDo you think he feels anything? Even if heâs brain dead?â Robby asked you as you stood side by side, about to enter to give the parents of the overdose victim the final verdict on their son.Â
âNo...he doesnât feel anything. Thereâs nothing,â you replied truthfully.
âWhat do you think she felt while she drowned?â he asked as they wheeled the young girl's body out of the trauma room. You think back to when you had held onto her tiny cold hand as they worked to bring her back.Â
âShe felt scared and exhausted but she also felt certain. Certain that she had saved her sister.â
Robby finds comfort in your candidness to his morbid questions, youâve always been honest with him and a shoulder for him to lean on. He knew he was being extra hard on you today and he would apologize with your favorite snack by the end of the shift.Â
None of this compared to what came next.Â
âWhatâs going on?â you can feel the anxiety spike in the room as phones and pagers go off. Gloria is talking to Robby and Dana on the side in a serious manner, their faces pinching with worry. Shooting, Pittfest, mass casualties, are words that fill the air. It seems to suck the oxygen out of the room, a sobering reminder of the world you lived in. Taking a deep breath you steady your nerves as instructions are being shared to the whole team. Suddenly a familiar warmth settles next to you, calloused hands brushing against yours.Â
âYou okay?â Jack asks quietly.Â
âIâm fine...but all of those people that are going to come in-,â you shudder at the thought.Â
âYou donât have to, you know, get too close to them if it gets too much,â he finally faces you as people start to rush around you. With his eyes trained on you it feels like youâre both in your own world for a moment.Â
âI know, but I want to help them. Anyway I can,â you reply, eyes filling with determination. It reminds him why he does this job, why he comes back.Â
Reality breaks apart your bubble as Dana calls out your name and Robby pulls Jack towards the team of doctors. Everything after that is a whirlwind, a mass casualty event hitting an already understaffed ED like a hurricane. Every ounce of training is in use as you work tirelessly alongside your colleagues to save every life that passed through those doors. It soon becomes clear there's not enough blood, medications or supplies. Only sheer willpower will get you all through this.Â
âEveryone please use the sedatives and morphine sparingly! More is coming but it's minutes out!â Dana shouted from the nurses station.Â
Following her announcement, a flurry of movement caught your attention in the Red Zone. The patient was thrashing on the gurney, arms flying around wildly as she shouted in pain, begging them to stop from pressing against her broken legs. Without hesitation you rushed over, hands slipping into the fray until they pressed against the womanâs face. Jack watched as you brought your head closely against hers, eyes scrunching tightly in concentration.Â
âYou feel tired, so tired,â you repeated softly over and over again.
Slowly her shouts became nothing but disgruntled murmurs, her eyes closing and arms falling sluggishly at her side. No one else seemed to notice what you had done, preoccupied with her impending blood loss and shattered bones. Jack could do nothing more than send you a grateful nod before you slipped away once more to assist on the next patient.Â
Unfortunately she had not been the last patient you had helped calm down, dozens more streamed into the Pitt in various states of emotional distress and you did your best to keep them from overwhelming the rest of the staff. It was starting to wear you down, drain your energy reserves as you still ran from zone to zone, arms full of supplies and bags of blood. Dry blood mixed with your sweat caked your arms, and your lungs burned from the smell of antiseptic and alcohol in the air. Give me strength, you begged the universe.Â
You had been standing by the ambulance bay doors, replenishing supplies for the Red Zone when another wave of gurneys and patients flooded in once more. You hadnât even had a chance to set down the IV bags in your hands when a tall man stumbled straight into your body. Blood stained hands clasped onto your shoulders with such force you could feel the bruises start to form. His eyes were wild and he kept repeating someone's name over and over. Time seemed to slow around you as his emotions flowed into your body like a dam had broken- hair raising panic, paralyzing fear, and pain that brought you to your knees. Your vision swam, all you could see now was bodies piled upon each other and hear the cries of those hit by the spray of bullets. A high pitched ringing filled your ears and your throat was suddenly raw.Â
Your ear splitting screams snapped Jack out of his concentration, his heart lurching at the scene before him. He barely had time to make sure Dr. Mohan had a handle on the patient before he was running full speed towards you, Robby at his side. The man was ripped away from you by Robby and one of the security guards who wrangled him onto a gurney. All you could do was cover your eyes as if that would stop the horrific visions in your head.Â
âLook at me, you gotta breathe (Y/N),â Jack begged as he stood in front of you, hands hovering over your shoulders not wanting to make it worse. His heart was beating a million miles per minute and he felt as if he was staring in the mirror, the traumatized medic in the throes of a panic attack staring back at him. Except now it was you.Â
You shook your head, stumbling backwards blindly into the wall. There was only one option he could think of at that moment. Without missing a beat, Jack grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you over his shoulder as you let out another desperate cry. The whole Pitt had frozen, shocked at the turn of events.Â
âGet back to work dammit!â Jack roared, making everyone flinch as they rushed to return back to the task at hand, averting their eyes.Â
In a few strides he made it to the end of the wing and into the empty on-call bathroom, slamming the door behind him with his foot. By this point you had gone limp over his shoulder, letting out the occasional whimper. He set you down lightly onto the shower floor, hand reaching up to the shower knob.Â
âIâm sorry baby but it will help I promise,â Jack couldnât stop the term of endearment from slipping out.Â
You seemed to be stuck in some sort of trance, another agonizing scream slipping past your lips as you hunched over. Suddenly ice cold water flowed from the shower head hitting your body in a forceful gush. A high pitched gasp filled the air as your eyes flew open from the shock. Shivering hands immediately reached out to find Jackâs arms, needing something to ground you as the temperature of the water numbed your frayed nerves.Â
âJack.â
âYouâre safe, youâre in the bathroom now. Youâre not there,â he assured you, hand smoothing your drenched hair out of your face. Tears swam in your eyes and you nodded numbly, trying to reorient yourself. His hand settled on your cheek, watching the water pour down your red cheeks. Even now, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He was only a few short seconds away from climbing into the shower with you when the door squeaked open.Â
âDr. Abbot, they need you out there,â Princess frowns as she takes in your state. He gives her his harshest stare, about to protest but you push his arms weakly.Â
âGo,â you say. âPrincess and I will handle it from here,â you look up at her. She gives a nod of affirmation.Â
âIâll get her cleaned up, Dr. Abbot,â she promises, reaching for towels.Â
I need to stay with you and protect you, he wants to say to you. I canât live another moment without you.Â
So many unsaid words stuck in his throat. Jack wishes you would just look into him and decipher his emotions so he wouldnât have to say them out loud. It wasnât the right time, it never was. He couldnât stand risking everything you had just to lose you if you didnât feel the same way. Instead of staying as his heart begged him to, he stands, ignoring the pain in his leg as he walks out without a word feeling like a coward.Â
Your heart squeezes painfully as you watch Jack go but you canât stop him. By the time Princess helps you change into clean scrubs it feels like hours have passed. She stays silent the whole time, giving you space as you rebuild the mental blocks in your head. Eventually you walk out onto the floor which is still wet with blood, doctors and nurses running to and fro with urgency. Sirens blare in the distance without stopping. Smoothing your hands over your new scrubs you hoped you looked better than you felt.Â
âGo home,â Robbyâs baritone voice is the first thing you hear.Â
âI donât believe you can send me home Dr. Robby,â you glance up at him. He looks absolutely wrecked, likely the same as you.Â
âDana-,â he turns to Dana who is by your side next. Dana knows you well, knows you wouldn't be standing here if you couldnât handle it.Â
âI canât force her to leave Robby. Trust that she knows her own limits,â Dana squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back in thanks. âWe still have patients to help, letâs go kiddo,â she guides you back into the disaster zone, arm over your shoulder. Â
Itâs when the emergency protocol is finally at an end and the last Pittfest patient is stabilized that you spot Robby again. Robby had been walking on a tight line today, Leahâs death finally pushing him over the edge. You had heard the terrible things Jake had yelled at him moments ago.Â
âHard day yeah?âÂ
âFor both of us Iâd say,â he laughs dryly, tears beginning to leak once again from the corners of his eyes.Â
âYouâve shouldered the burden of so much today Robby. Let me help you,â you extend your hand to him.Â
âI canât do that to you,â he shakes his head, knowing what youâre offering.Â
âThis may be the only time I offer this to you Robby. Trust me,â you say. He shifts uneasily in place before finally making his decision. He takes your hand. The colors around him darken, his frustration, grief, anger and disappointment swirling around him like a storm.Â
âGo home soon and sleep. It will come easy tonight,â you say. Robby feels a warm sensation run up his arm, filling his chest with a lightness he hadnât felt in years. The tension in his shoulders visibly eases and he feels like he can properly breathe again. Before he can thank you, youâre gone.Â
You hand found a quiet space in the supply closet to unwind, taking advantage of the day shift and night shift switching places. Sitting in the dim room you allow the events of the day to wash over you, taking steadying breaths to settle your emotions. Then you would find Jack and hope he didnât look at you differently like you were something that had been crushed into tiny pieces.Â
You hadnât left Jackâs mind since he had left you in the shower, your screams echoing in his mind. Compartmentalizing all of his emotions and stuffing them into the back of his mind was the only thing that kept him sane for the remaining shift. The moment he finally handed off the last patient to Shen and Ellis he was on the lookout for you. Unable to find you yet, Jack makes his way up to the roof as he does after most shifts, muscle memory taking over. Heâs not surprised to see Robby staring at the city skyline from the ledge.Â
âI think I finally understand why I keep coming back now,â Jack calls out to Robby. âIt's in our DNA. It's what we do. We can't help it. Not everyone can do it, it takes a special type of person,â he says, thinking of you.Â
âMaybe you, not me,â Robby shakes his head as he steps back onto the roof.Â
âWhat are you talking about?â Jackâs tone is incredulous.Â
âYou know damn well what I'm talking about. I broke. I shut down. At the moment everybody needed me the most, I wasn't there. I couldn't do it. I choked,â Robby hangs his head. Â
âDonât say that you broke in there because if that was you breaking apart then that means (Y/N)-,â he stops himself, unable to finish the sentence. âYouâre not broken, youâre just human. We all are.â
Robby sighs. âI didnât mean it like that.âÂ
âYouâre stronger than you think. Sheâs stronger than she thinks. Just because you both got overwhelmed today doesnât mean youâre broken, not even close,â Jack says. âI used to think there was a weakness in feeling too much. Never allowed myself to cry or grieve even when-,â he pauses thinking back to his time after he came back from the army, what had happened to his ex wife and her untimely death years ago.Â
âThis is starting to sound less like a pep talk and more like you need to go find her,â Robby crosses his arms. Jack remains silent, running his hand through his messy curls as he paces back and forth.Â
âWhat are you going to do Jack? Itâs been months of you pining after her. We all saw it on that karaoke night-.â
âDonât even,â Jack scowls at the memory which makes Robby laugh for the first time tonight. Â
You had been singing alongside Dana and McKay, your smile infectious as you swayed your hips to the beat. Jack had scoffed at the idea of karaoke night with the team but seeing you up there, he was entranced by the lights making your skin shimmer, your smudged lipstick and sweet voice. The only thing that snapped him out of it was watching a young guy approach you with a shot and a flirtatious grin. It had taken both Robby and Shen to hold him back, dragging him back to the booth by the scruff of his neck.Â
There wasnât anything more to say so they descended back down to reality, one step at a time. By the time he and Robby exit the Pitt doors, there was only one thing on Jackâs mind.Â
âYou gonna grab a beer with us?â Robby asks as they cross the street but he already knows the answer.Â
âI have to do something first. Something long overdue,â Jack stations himself at the entrance of the park.Â
âFucking finally,â Robby claps his shoulder. âTell her I said goodnight.â
âI heard youâve been asking her about dead people again, not cool man!â
âSorry! Sorry, Iâll make an effort to stop that,â Robby throws his hands up before disappearing into the park.Â
Jack steels himself in place, waiting and praying he hadnât missed you. His instincts were correct as usual, you soon appeared before him with a tired smile gracing your lips, backpack hanging off your hand. For a moment the only sound is the wind rustling through the trees. Slowly he takes measured steps closer to you, until he can see the small scar on your top lip. You take the moment to admire the freckles that adorn his nose and cheeks. You were nervous seconds ago, but not anymore.Â
Finally Jack speaks. âYou wanna know what I see when I look at you?â he whispers, his strong hand coming up to cup your cheek. âI see the woman that I love, who makes me want to live life, not just survive it. I see a woman with the endless capacity to help others, the strongest person I know.â
âI- you saw what happened to me today. It may not always be easy,â your voice is thick with emotion.Â
âYou know me better than anyone, it wonât be easy with me either, but we have each other.â
âThatâs all I need - you.âÂ
Lifting yourself on your tiptoes you press your nose to his, your lips hovering over one another. Electricity crackles between you, months of yearning and unspoken tension threatening to break free. His muscular arm wraps around your waist, tethering you to him.Â
âCome home with me, where you belong.âÂ
âI thought youâd never ask,â you whisper.Â
Then something blooms in his chest, a feeling he hadnât felt in a long time - hope. You can see the fuzzy color around him lighten into a beautiful blue color, like the sky on a sunny day.Â
âFeel it with me?âÂ
You wrap your arms around his neck, letting the mental blocks down momentarily. The moments your lips touch bursts of colors fill your mind and you feel it all. His love encompasses you, his hope for the future with you and passion makes your skin tingle.Â
"they should teach media literacy in schools" english class "they should teach students how to spot misinformation" it's english class "they should teach kids critical thinking" it's called english class
I wanted to come on here and share some information about whatâs currently happening in LA. As a Latina and a fanfiction writer who focuses on Latinx characters, I think itâs incredibly important to spread awareness, share resources, and help educate others about whatâs going on across the U.S. right now.
I havenât seen much about this on my feed, so please reblog, and feel free to add any other helpful resources and information you come across to this thread.
If you write for Latinx characters, you need to speak up for the community. You need to STAND UP for and with them.
Fuck ICE. What theyâre doing is inhumane. And if you disagree, feel free to unfollow me.
Summary: A story of an ex-army doctor still haunted by his past who strives to maintain control of his emotions and a nurse with a sixth sense for the emotions of others that everyone has come to rely on- will a traumatic event force them to confront their true feelings for each other or pull them apart forever?
Tags/Warnings: age gap, yearning, too scared to admit they're in love, empath!reader, angst, panic attacks, comfort, descriptions of blood and pittfest, trauma, happy ending
Word Count: 4.3K & AO3 link
Authorâs Note: This may not be everyoneâs cup of tea but I could not stop thinking about writing this. I also have absolutely no medical knowledge so enjoy!Â
The Pitt - Night Shift
The faint beeping of monitors and clicks of the keyboard mesh with the sounds of patients and staff. The fluorescent lights arenât the only thing landing on your skin, you feel his stare from chairs away. It doesnât make you uncomfortable, quite the opposite, it sends a warm feeling rushing through you and when you peek up you catch sight of his silver curls twinkling in the light.Â
Dr. Jack Abbott canât help it, after two years of working alongside you he doesnât get tired of tracing the slope of your nose or watching the way you bite your lip in concentration. He stopped trying to be discreet a long time ago even after repeatedly being caught by Dr. Robby or Dr. Ellis. Youâre both snapped out of your thoughts by the sirens approaching the ambulance bay. By the time the EMTs enter the Pitt youâre standing next to Jack at the ready.Â
âMan in his late sixties- disoriented and aggressive. He was distributing patrons outside of a nightclub and eventually someone knocked him down,â the EMT summarized as they wheeled in the man who was strapped down to the gurney. He wasnât saying anything comprehensible, only letting out grunts as he attempted to free himself.Â
âPsych eval?â Jack tilts his head.Â
âYup, no ID or other identification found with him. Probably homeless and off his meds,â the EMT replied.Â
âGive me a moment with him,â you step forward, not entirely convinced. Jackâs eyes narrow slightly at the patient who began to twist in his restraints again. Unease grows in his gut but he learned a long time ago not to question you.Â
âDonât get too close to him yet, we may need sedation.âÂ
He stands at the door watching the interaction closely, his body taut in preparation to intervene. The soldier inside him never left him, those instincts embedded into his bones.Â
Slowly you approach the older man, quietly assessing him. Jack watches your hand hover over the patientâs arm for a moment, but what you do is still a mystery to him.Â
Eventually it becomes clear to you what he needs. âYou must be very tired and thirsty. Itâs been a long day,â you murmur softly. This made the man go still, eyes widening as he nodded urgently. He was mute, everything he wanted to say stuck inside him at this moment but his emotions were clear.Â
âWeâre here to help you,â you give him a reassuring smile as you back away towards the door. The moment you turn, youâre face to face with Jack. You force yourself to stay concentrated on your task and not on Jackâs handsome features. âHeâs not homeless, he feels lost and he misses home. Heâs also extremely thirsty, so heâs dehydrated which is why he was disoriented and acting out. He wasnât able to ask for help because heâs mute,â you explain.Â
âNot a Psych case then,â he concurs, impressed once more.Â
âThe usual tests will let us know how dehydrated he is and if thereâs other underlying causes. This is a case for the night shift social worker to help with, they just need to find out who he is and where he lives. I think he has family,â you reach for the IV kit.Â
âThanks Sherlock Holmes.âÂ
Thereâs no malice or sarcasm in his tone, just his usual dry wit which youâve come to love. You can see the wheels turning in his head and although heâs never asked questions, you know he keeps trying to figure out how youâre so good at reading patients.Â
Intuition, your grandmother winked at you one day when you asked if she had what you had. A curse, your mother declared before she had left for good, not able to handle what she was born with. Overactive empathy was what you had come to call it. It had been overwhelming at first, discovering that as you got in close proximity to someone you could identify their emotions and feel them yourself, all of them. It took many years to build up your control to a point where you felt you could be around people. Out of nursing school you spent your first few years in hospice care, holding the hand of those making their way out of this world, watching the hazy colors around them fade into nothing. Soon the time came to try something new and you found yourself standing in the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Emergency Department, hoping to make a difference and make use of your ability in a new way.Â
It was an open secret, the little trick you had up your sleeve. No one put a specific label on it and on one questioned it. Anytime you interacted with a patient who needed that extra level of support, with a simple glance or press of your hand to their shoulder you seemed to read their emotions to a tee. It had also helped de-escalate potentially dangerous situations, preventing many fights in the halls of the Pitt. In this world, it was all about the patient and being able to read them was an asset. Their feelings and experiences are half of the story when they walk in through the doors.Â
Grabbing your backpack from your locker you take your time walking back to the nursing station to clock out. It gives you time to admire Jack who stands at the counter, his blue eyes flickering across the screen. Dr. Abbot - the broody, stalwart and incredibly selfless man who captured your heart. Not that you would ever admit it, you were years younger and convinced he could do much better. What catches your attention is his posture, heâs leaning heavily against the counter hoping no one can notice his discomfort.Â
âIs it bothering you again?â you whisper as you stand next to him. Jack grimaces as he flexes the prosthetic foot under his khakis, internally kicking himself for showing a trace of weakness. Â
âI have no idea what youâre talking about,â he grits out.Â
âLiar,â you muse, swiping your badge to clock out for the night.Â
His face turns stoic as he stares you down, intimidating as hell to others but not to you. You stare right back, waiting until one of you inevitably cracks. His dimples pop out as he lets out a hearty laugh. Several people send you curious looks, an Abbot laugh was rare.Â
âIt's not fair if you use that trick on me,â he pretends to sound mad. Not that you would ever intentionally violate his privacy by delving further than his surface area emotions.Â
âItâs not like I can read minds.â
âItâs close enough.â
âI donât have to use anything on you Abbot. It's clear as day.â
He feels that familiar swoop in his stomach at your words, forcing himself to not say anything stupid.Â
âWill you be here tomorrow?â
âIâll be here, just in case you pick up another shift,â you tease, finally starting to walk away. He winks at you and you feel like youâre floating on clouds all the way home.Â
The Pitt - Day Shift
Today was a never ending roller coaster and it was going to give you whiplash. Angry patients, argumentative family members, interpersonal drama, fucking rats. Then Dana had gotten punched, which had rattled all of the nurses. It had brought you to tears seeing her bruised face and bloody nose, your mentor and dear friend. She had shushed you in a motherly fashion, assuring you and everyone else she would live long enough to finish the shift as long as she had another cigarette.Â
It was also the first day for new residents and medical students, another layer to the never ending day. You took it in stride as always offering helpful advice and keeping an eye on them for Robby making sure they didnât mess up too badly. Some had already latched onto you, King and Whittaker frequently asking you to join them on patient care.Â
You could immediately sense that today was an off day for Robby, as you assisted with his difficult cases you could see the strain behind his eyes and his increasing use of the word fuck. He also kept asking you about what the patients were feeling long after they had died. It wasnât a good sign.Â
âIs he asking you about dead people again?â Dana hands you a cup of tea. You nod.Â
âChrist Almighty heâs a morbid one,â she shakes her head with a sad smile. âWish Collins hadnât left early, she knows how to get him back on track.â
....
âDo you think he feels anything? Even if heâs brain dead?â Robby asked you as you stood side by side, about to enter to give the parents of the overdose victim the final verdict on their son.Â
âNo...he doesnât feel anything. Thereâs nothing,â you replied truthfully.
âWhat do you think she felt while she drowned?â he asked as they wheeled the young girl's body out of the trauma room. You think back to when you had held onto her tiny cold hand as they worked to bring her back.Â
âShe felt scared and exhausted but she also felt certain. Certain that she had saved her sister.â
Robby finds comfort in your candidness to his morbid questions, youâve always been honest with him and a shoulder for him to lean on. He knew he was being extra hard on you today and he would apologize with your favorite snack by the end of the shift.Â
None of this compared to what came next.Â
âWhatâs going on?â you can feel the anxiety spike in the room as phones and pagers go off. Gloria is talking to Robby and Dana on the side in a serious manner, their faces pinching with worry. Shooting, Pittfest, mass casualties, are words that fill the air. It seems to suck the oxygen out of the room, a sobering reminder of the world you lived in. Taking a deep breath you steady your nerves as instructions are being shared to the whole team. Suddenly a familiar warmth settles next to you, calloused hands brushing against yours.Â
âYou okay?â Jack asks quietly.Â
âIâm fine...but all of those people that are going to come in-,â you shudder at the thought.Â
âYou donât have to, you know, get too close to them if it gets too much,â he finally faces you as people start to rush around you. With his eyes trained on you it feels like youâre both in your own world for a moment.Â
âI know, but I want to help them. Anyway I can,â you reply, eyes filling with determination. It reminds him why he does this job, why he comes back.Â
Reality breaks apart your bubble as Dana calls out your name and Robby pulls Jack towards the team of doctors. Everything after that is a whirlwind, a mass casualty event hitting an already understaffed ED like a hurricane. Every ounce of training is in use as you work tirelessly alongside your colleagues to save every life that passed through those doors. It soon becomes clear there's not enough blood, medications or supplies. Only sheer willpower will get you all through this.Â
âEveryone please use the sedatives and morphine sparingly! More is coming but it's minutes out!â Dana shouted from the nurses station.Â
Following her announcement, a flurry of movement caught your attention in the Red Zone. The patient was thrashing on the gurney, arms flying around wildly as she shouted in pain, begging them to stop from pressing against her broken legs. Without hesitation you rushed over, hands slipping into the fray until they pressed against the womanâs face. Jack watched as you brought your head closely against hers, eyes scrunching tightly in concentration.Â
âYou feel tired, so tired,â you repeated softly over and over again.
Slowly her shouts became nothing but disgruntled murmurs, her eyes closing and arms falling sluggishly at her side. No one else seemed to notice what you had done, preoccupied with her impending blood loss and shattered bones. Jack could do nothing more than send you a grateful nod before you slipped away once more to assist on the next patient.Â
Unfortunately she had not been the last patient you had helped calm down, dozens more streamed into the Pitt in various states of emotional distress and you did your best to keep them from overwhelming the rest of the staff. It was starting to wear you down, drain your energy reserves as you still ran from zone to zone, arms full of supplies and bags of blood. Dry blood mixed with your sweat caked your arms, and your lungs burned from the smell of antiseptic and alcohol in the air. Give me strength, you begged the universe.Â
You had been standing by the ambulance bay doors, replenishing supplies for the Red Zone when another wave of gurneys and patients flooded in once more. You hadnât even had a chance to set down the IV bags in your hands when a tall man stumbled straight into your body. Blood stained hands clasped onto your shoulders with such force you could feel the bruises start to form. His eyes were wild and he kept repeating someone's name over and over. Time seemed to slow around you as his emotions flowed into your body like a dam had broken- hair raising panic, paralyzing fear, and pain that brought you to your knees. Your vision swam, all you could see now was bodies piled upon each other and hear the cries of those hit by the spray of bullets. A high pitched ringing filled your ears and your throat was suddenly raw.Â
Your ear splitting screams snapped Jack out of his concentration, his heart lurching at the scene before him. He barely had time to make sure Dr. Mohan had a handle on the patient before he was running full speed towards you, Robby at his side. The man was ripped away from you by Robby and one of the security guards who wrangled him onto a gurney. All you could do was cover your eyes as if that would stop the horrific visions in your head.Â
âLook at me, you gotta breathe (Y/N),â Jack begged as he stood in front of you, hands hovering over your shoulders not wanting to make it worse. His heart was beating a million miles per minute and he felt as if he was staring in the mirror, the traumatized medic in the throes of a panic attack staring back at him. Except now it was you.Â
You shook your head, stumbling backwards blindly into the wall. There was only one option he could think of at that moment. Without missing a beat, Jack grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you over his shoulder as you let out another desperate cry. The whole Pitt had frozen, shocked at the turn of events.Â
âGet back to work dammit!â Jack roared, making everyone flinch as they rushed to return back to the task at hand, averting their eyes.Â
In a few strides he made it to the end of the wing and into the empty on-call bathroom, slamming the door behind him with his foot. By this point you had gone limp over his shoulder, letting out the occasional whimper. He set you down lightly onto the shower floor, hand reaching up to the shower knob.Â
âIâm sorry baby but it will help I promise,â Jack couldnât stop the term of endearment from slipping out.Â
You seemed to be stuck in some sort of trance, another agonizing scream slipping past your lips as you hunched over. Suddenly ice cold water flowed from the shower head hitting your body in a forceful gush. A high pitched gasp filled the air as your eyes flew open from the shock. Shivering hands immediately reached out to find Jackâs arms, needing something to ground you as the temperature of the water numbed your frayed nerves.Â
âJack.â
âYouâre safe, youâre in the bathroom now. Youâre not there,â he assured you, hand smoothing your drenched hair out of your face. Tears swam in your eyes and you nodded numbly, trying to reorient yourself. His hand settled on your cheek, watching the water pour down your red cheeks. Even now, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He was only a few short seconds away from climbing into the shower with you when the door squeaked open.Â
âDr. Abbot, they need you out there,â Princess frowns as she takes in your state. He gives her his harshest stare, about to protest but you push his arms weakly.Â
âGo,â you say. âPrincess and I will handle it from here,â you look up at her. She gives a nod of affirmation.Â
âIâll get her cleaned up, Dr. Abbot,â she promises, reaching for towels.Â
I need to stay with you and protect you, he wants to say to you. I canât live another moment without you.Â
So many unsaid words stuck in his throat. Jack wishes you would just look into him and decipher his emotions so he wouldnât have to say them out loud. It wasnât the right time, it never was. He couldnât stand risking everything you had just to lose you if you didnât feel the same way. Instead of staying as his heart begged him to, he stands, ignoring the pain in his leg as he walks out without a word feeling like a coward.Â
Your heart squeezes painfully as you watch Jack go but you canât stop him. By the time Princess helps you change into clean scrubs it feels like hours have passed. She stays silent the whole time, giving you space as you rebuild the mental blocks in your head. Eventually you walk out onto the floor which is still wet with blood, doctors and nurses running to and fro with urgency. Sirens blare in the distance without stopping. Smoothing your hands over your new scrubs you hoped you looked better than you felt.Â
âGo home,â Robbyâs baritone voice is the first thing you hear.Â
âI donât believe you can send me home Dr. Robby,â you glance up at him. He looks absolutely wrecked, likely the same as you.Â
âDana-,â he turns to Dana who is by your side next. Dana knows you well, knows you wouldn't be standing here if you couldnât handle it.Â
âI canât force her to leave Robby. Trust that she knows her own limits,â Dana squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back in thanks. âWe still have patients to help, letâs go kiddo,â she guides you back into the disaster zone, arm over your shoulder. Â
Itâs when the emergency protocol is finally at an end and the last Pittfest patient is stabilized that you spot Robby again. Robby had been walking on a tight line today, Leahâs death finally pushing him over the edge. You had heard the terrible things Jake had yelled at him moments ago.Â
âHard day yeah?âÂ
âFor both of us Iâd say,â he laughs dryly, tears beginning to leak once again from the corners of his eyes.Â
âYouâve shouldered the burden of so much today Robby. Let me help you,â you extend your hand to him.Â
âI canât do that to you,â he shakes his head, knowing what youâre offering.Â
âThis may be the only time I offer this to you Robby. Trust me,â you say. He shifts uneasily in place before finally making his decision. He takes your hand. The colors around him darken, his frustration, grief, anger and disappointment swirling around him like a storm.Â
âGo home soon and sleep. It will come easy tonight,â you say. Robby feels a warm sensation run up his arm, filling his chest with a lightness he hadnât felt in years. The tension in his shoulders visibly eases and he feels like he can properly breathe again. Before he can thank you, youâre gone.Â
You hand found a quiet space in the supply closet to unwind, taking advantage of the day shift and night shift switching places. Sitting in the dim room you allow the events of the day to wash over you, taking steadying breaths to settle your emotions. Then you would find Jack and hope he didnât look at you differently like you were something that had been crushed into tiny pieces.Â
You hadnât left Jackâs mind since he had left you in the shower, your screams echoing in his mind. Compartmentalizing all of his emotions and stuffing them into the back of his mind was the only thing that kept him sane for the remaining shift. The moment he finally handed off the last patient to Shen and Ellis he was on the lookout for you. Unable to find you yet, Jack makes his way up to the roof as he does after most shifts, muscle memory taking over. Heâs not surprised to see Robby staring at the city skyline from the ledge.Â
âI think I finally understand why I keep coming back now,â Jack calls out to Robby. âIt's in our DNA. It's what we do. We can't help it. Not everyone can do it, it takes a special type of person,â he says, thinking of you.Â
âMaybe you, not me,â Robby shakes his head as he steps back onto the roof.Â
âWhat are you talking about?â Jackâs tone is incredulous.Â
âYou know damn well what I'm talking about. I broke. I shut down. At the moment everybody needed me the most, I wasn't there. I couldn't do it. I choked,â Robby hangs his head. Â
âDonât say that you broke in there because if that was you breaking apart then that means (Y/N)-,â he stops himself, unable to finish the sentence. âYouâre not broken, youâre just human. We all are.â
Robby sighs. âI didnât mean it like that.âÂ
âYouâre stronger than you think. Sheâs stronger than she thinks. Just because you both got overwhelmed today doesnât mean youâre broken, not even close,â Jack says. âI used to think there was a weakness in feeling too much. Never allowed myself to cry or grieve even when-,â he pauses thinking back to his time after he came back from the army, what had happened to his ex wife and her untimely death years ago.Â
âThis is starting to sound less like a pep talk and more like you need to go find her,â Robby crosses his arms. Jack remains silent, running his hand through his messy curls as he paces back and forth.Â
âWhat are you going to do Jack? Itâs been months of you pining after her. We all saw it on that karaoke night-.â
âDonât even,â Jack scowls at the memory which makes Robby laugh for the first time tonight. Â
You had been singing alongside Dana and McKay, your smile infectious as you swayed your hips to the beat. Jack had scoffed at the idea of karaoke night with the team but seeing you up there, he was entranced by the lights making your skin shimmer, your smudged lipstick and sweet voice. The only thing that snapped him out of it was watching a young guy approach you with a shot and a flirtatious grin. It had taken both Robby and Shen to hold him back, dragging him back to the booth by the scruff of his neck.Â
There wasnât anything more to say so they descended back down to reality, one step at a time. By the time he and Robby exit the Pitt doors, there was only one thing on Jackâs mind.Â
âYou gonna grab a beer with us?â Robby asks as they cross the street but he already knows the answer.Â
âI have to do something first. Something long overdue,â Jack stations himself at the entrance of the park.Â
âFucking finally,â Robby claps his shoulder. âTell her I said goodnight.â
âI heard youâve been asking her about dead people again, not cool man!â
âSorry! Sorry, Iâll make an effort to stop that,â Robby throws his hands up before disappearing into the park.Â
Jack steels himself in place, waiting and praying he hadnât missed you. His instincts were correct as usual, you soon appeared before him with a tired smile gracing your lips, backpack hanging off your hand. For a moment the only sound is the wind rustling through the trees. Slowly he takes measured steps closer to you, until he can see the small scar on your top lip. You take the moment to admire the freckles that adorn his nose and cheeks. You were nervous seconds ago, but not anymore.Â
Finally Jack speaks. âYou wanna know what I see when I look at you?â he whispers, his strong hand coming up to cup your cheek. âI see the woman that I love, who makes me want to live life, not just survive it. I see a woman with the endless capacity to help others, the strongest person I know.â
âI- you saw what happened to me today. It may not always be easy,â your voice is thick with emotion.Â
âYou know me better than anyone, it wonât be easy with me either, but we have each other.â
âThatâs all I need - you.âÂ
Lifting yourself on your tiptoes you press your nose to his, your lips hovering over one another. Electricity crackles between you, months of yearning and unspoken tension threatening to break free. His muscular arm wraps around your waist, tethering you to him.Â
âCome home with me, where you belong.âÂ
âI thought youâd never ask,â you whisper.Â
Then something blooms in his chest, a feeling he hadnât felt in a long time - hope. You can see the fuzzy color around him lighten into a beautiful blue color, like the sky on a sunny day.Â
âFeel it with me?âÂ
You wrap your arms around his neck, letting the mental blocks down momentarily. The moments your lips touch bursts of colors fill your mind and you feel it all. His love encompasses you, his hope for the future with you and passion makes your skin tingle.Â
Important addition: Maria SkĆodowska-Curie was born during partitions, which means Poland didnât exist, which means her insistence that she was Polish was a significant act of defiance against the occupation, which means that you should respect that instead of arguing that âwell she had French citizenshipâ. She couldnât have Polish citizenship despite being Polish, thatâs kinda the point she was making by keeping her maiden name and naming a chemical element she discovered âPoloniumâ .
I hope this message finds you well. My name is Aziz, and Iâm reaching out with a heartfelt plea to help my family find safety and reunite with our mother. đ
The ongoing war in Gaza has torn my family apart. My mother and newborn sister are stranded in Egypt, while I, along with the rest of my sex family members, am trapped in the midst of the genocide in Gaza. We have not only been separated but have also lost our home and are enduring unimaginable hardships. đ
Your support can make a difference. Whether by reading our story, donating, or sharing our campaign with others, you can help us reunite, find safety, and start anew. đđ
Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your kindness, compassion, and solidarity during this difficult time. â€đ
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