Summary: Over your pregnancy sex has decreased in frequency, and it leads you to believe that maybe Jack's attraction to you has waned.
Contents: Jack Abbot x afab!reader, lactation kink (if you don't like DNI), pregnancy, smut, piv, a lil hurt with lots of comfort, body insecurities.
Note: this was a request that was supposed to just be a blurb, but it ended up being a little longer, so i figured i'd call it a oneshot and do the aesthetics as well. a little nervous posting this one, but what the hell. Embrace the freak or whateva! Credit to @/saradika-graphics for the divider.
Word Count: 1.4k
Ao3 Link: read here!
It’s not that you expected the frequency of sex to remain the same throughout your pregnancy. Hell, there are times where intimacy has been scarce before. Life gets busy. Sometimes those sorts of things fall to the wayside. It feels different lately, though. And maybe that’s just you getting into your own head. You tend to do that.
Trouble is, your body is changing—every day it’s changing, and in ways you don’t always find easy to reconcile with. Sometimes it’s hard to look in the mirror and appreciate any of what you see. So is it really that farfetched to assume that Jack might feel the same way—that his attraction has waned over the past several months?
After weeks of him constantly side stepping intimacy, you decide, one evening, to give it one last try. You doll yourself up, shave as best you can given the constraints your pregnancy puts on you, and wrap yourself in a silk robe.
You feel a bit ridiculous, posing in what you hope is an alluring manner on the bed. Jack hardly looks up as he enters the room and sits at the edge of the mattress. Your confidence, as fickle as ever, shrinks a few sizes. He grunts as he doffs his prosthetic, leaning down to massage his leg.
You swallow hard and shuffle closer, sidling up to him so you can press a kiss to his jaw. One hand lands on his thigh, fingers trekking upwards. He shrugs you off, rolling his shoulders.
“You should get some rest, sweetheart.”
The rejection feels sharper than usual. You think because this time you’re trying—really trying and he barely looks at you. Maybe it’s worse than you thought. Is he so repulsed that he can’t even bring himself to look at you for more than a few seconds? You feel like an idiot for attempting to make something happen.
“Jack,” you begin, failing to keep your voice as prim and even as you want to. “It’s okay if you’re not attracted to me anymore, but please tell me so I can stop making a fool of myself.”
A silence presides over the room, so potent you could hear a pin drop. His movements still completely. Then he whips his head around so fast that you swear, if you were none the wiser, you would be convinced that you’ve just shot him straight through the chest.
The utter shock on his face makes you feel crazy. You have half the mind to start back pedaling, but you’ve already hit the gas on this conversation. There’s no turning back now. The damage is done.
He opens his mouth then closes it. You have rendered your husband, who can rarely ever shut his mouth, speechless. Absent-mindedly, you fiddle with the hem of your robe, waiting for him to muster up his next words.
His eyes elevator down then back up your figure. Jack has been your comfort person for so long you forgot how it is to feel as though you’re under his scrutiny. You hate feeling the innate need to shield your body from a gaze that has never looked at you with anything but admiration before.
“What are you talking about?”
“This—whatever is going on.” You gesture vaguely between you. “You barely look at me, let alone touch me.”
Shock resurfaces on his face. Then his brows pinch together, and you watch the gears turn as he retraces every moment over the past couple weeks. Dragging one leg up onto the bed, he scoots closer and cups your face.
The fragility with which he speaks brings you back down to earth, urging you out of the storm that has been silently brewing for weeks.
“I’ve been withholding because I worry about losing myself in the heat of the moment,” he says, holding your gaze firm. “I am incredibly attracted to you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m pregnant, not made of glass, Jack,” you huff. All this worry and insecurity because Jack didn’t think himself capable of being gentle enough with you. It would be endearing if you weren’t terribly sexually frustrated. It feels like a lot of time has been wasted—opportunities let slip away.
“I know. I know…” he says, eyes deliberately raking over you again. “Very pregnant, and so fuckin’ sexy for it.”
“You’re laying it on pretty thick there.” You want to give him a hard time—make him really grovel for it, but you are so pent up that you’re not sure how long you can deny him. He frowns, and his eyes look so sad that you nearly give in at the mere sight.
“I’m sorry I made you feel anything less than beautiful,” he says. “I shouldn’t have made any decisions for you.”
You turn your head to the side in an attempt to avoid falling back under his spell.
“I’d like to make it up to you, baby,” he continues, and you’re sure that if you let him, he would talk your ear off for an eternity. “I’ve been pent up myself here…”
“And whose fault is that?” The look you give him is scalding. He offers you a sheepish smile in return.
“Your idiot husband’s.”
“Yeah, my idiot husband’s,” you echo as the space between you narrows. His lips meet yours in a heated kiss. He licks into your mouth. Your axis tilts, and you land flat on the bed. He moves to occupy the space above you. A soft sound wells up your throat when he pulls away.
“Oh fuck…” he hisses. You follow his gaze to your chest where two damp patches have formed in the silky fabric over your nipples. His eyes flick up to you, pupils dilated. “When did this start?”
His fingers are already tucking themselves into the waist tie of your robe before you can reply.
“A couple days ago,” you say. He makes quick work of the knot and your robe falls open. “Didn’t want to give you another reason to find me unattractive.”
He fits your swollen breasts into the broad cradle of his palms, attention locked onto where pearlescent liquid trickles in continuous droplets.
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he says. His thumb swipes up a droplet and he brings it to his mouth. You watch as his eyes flutter shut and a groan swells from his chest at the taste of you. He immediately brings his hand back down, massaging your breasts and watching in fascination as thin rivulets pour down your skin. “I’m crazy about you.”
It’s difficult to deny such a statement when his erection is pressing incessantly against your thigh. One of his hands coasts down your body, stopping only once he’s cupped it over your glistening cunt. He slides three fingers over the seam, dipping down to prod at your entrance.
“I need you—now!” You whine, bucking your hips. It’s been too long, and your patience has worn extremely thin.
“Mhm? Okay,” he murmurs, withdrawing to ruck his pants and underwear down. He gives his cock a few firm strokes before lining himself up with your entrance and slowly pushing in. You mewl at the stretch.
Slowly, he begins to rut into you. His attention fixates on your breasts that bounce with every thrust, your nipples still dribbling milk. He moans lowly, unable to resist for much longer.
“Can I?” His head dips down. You feel his hot breath fan over damp skin and shudder.
“You mean—You want to…?”
“There’s nothing I want more right now.” He hovers a second longer before latching onto one nipple, and giving a gentle suck. His hips stutter as a strangled noise escapes him. You cup the back of his head, fingers tangling in sandy grey curls. He reaches between you to toy with your clit.
“Jack…!” you keen, consumed by a multitude of sensations. He hums, pulling off of you with a wet pop. Next, he’s leaning down and dragging your other nipple into his mouth. It’s so much all at once. Your body shakes apart, tensing up and then going listless. He bottoms out one last time, pouring himself into you while he smothers himself in your tits.
It takes him another couple moments to withdraw, lifting his head to meet your gaze. He looks a mess, but satisfied—that smirk of his twitching at the corner of his lips.
he doesnt even realise hes doing it. the money in his bank account is practically infinite and everybody knows it, he is an ex veteran and doctor after all.
it starts with him buying you coffee on his way to work. then when you guys started seeing eachother outside of work he would start buying you breakfast or dinner. you would always offer to pay, split the bill, but he would always say ‘dont worry about it’ andhand over his black amex like it was nothing.
then once you guys got serious he would start taking you to nicer places. places you never though you would be able to afford. you would feel bad, try ordering the cheapest thing on the menu, but he would notice immediately and ask the waiter to comeback in five.
then he started buying you clothes, jewellery. jack said he wanted you to be happy, and joked that you were ‘always complaining’ about having nothing to wear when he takes you out. you tell him you feel bad, you dont like draining his bank account. ‘baby this is nothing, i just want you to feel good. i like making you feel good.’ he would reply as his hand slid up your thigh. ‘if youre uncomfortable just tell me. ok?’ you climbed onto his lap and took his head into your hands. running your hands though his grey curls.
‘so what…are you my sugar daddy?’ you joked. a smirk grew on his face, ‘is that what you want, huh?’ he started pulling your shirt up over your head, ‘an excuse to call me daddy?’
in which jack tries his best to keep you cool during the hottest day of the year.
( any other uk gals & guys absolutely hating this heat??? we aint built for this. )
FLUFF! all fluff. fem! reader.
the heat starts before sunrise.
by eight in the morning, the apartment already feels unbearable, heavy air sticking to your skin no matter where you stand. every window is open, every fan is running, and somehow it still feels like you’re breathing through soup.
jack, unfortunately, handles this entirely too well.
probably because he’s an er doctor / ex combat medic and apparently prepared for every possible human condition, including melting alive.
“cold water,” he tells you for the fifth time that day, pushing a sweating glass into your hands. “small sips. not too fast.”
you glare at him from where you’re sprawled dramatically across the couch in shorts and one of his old loose fitting t-shirts. “if you say electrolytes one more time, i’m leaving you.”
“you can’t. it’s too hot outside.”
annoyingly, he’s right.
he’s spent the entire day implementing increasingly ridiculous survival strategies. curtains closed to block sunlight. damp washcloths in the freezer. homemade iced tea. strategically placing a fan in front of a bowl of ice like some kind of exhausted scientist.
and worst of all? all of it actually works.
“you’ve thought about this way too much,” you mumble as he presses a cold bottle of water against the back of your neck.
he shrugs. “heat stroke cases go up every summer.”
“romantic.”
“i contain multitudes.”
by nighttime, the temperature barely drops.
you’re both lying in bed on top of the sheets, trying not to move because movement somehow makes it worse. jack’s hair is damp from another cold shower, his t-shirt abandoned somewhere on the floor hours ago.
you hear him sigh beside you before he rolls closer automatically, half-asleep and seeking you out of habit.
the second his arm touches your waist, you immediately squirm away. “absolutely not.”
his eyes crack open. “rude.”
“you are a human furnace.”
“i’m just trying to cuddle my girlfriend.”
“you’re trying to kill me.”
he groans and flops onto his back dramatically. “this heat wave is destroying our relationship.”
“survival first.”
“wow.” jack scoffs.
you point weakly at him from across the mattress. “stay on your side before i start hissing at you.”
he snorts tiredly. “noted.”
the next afternoon, you come home expecting another miserable day of sweating through existence.
instead—
cold air hits your face the second you open the door. you stop dead in the entryway.
“…jack?” you call out.
from somewhere down the hall, he calls, “living room.”
you follow the sound and find him kneeling beside a brand-new portable ac unit, screwdriver still in hand, hair messy, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.
you stare at the machine. then at him.
“did you install air conditioning?”
“i did.”
“today?”
“i had a post-shift moment of clarity.”
you blink at him in disbelief before immediately walking straight into the stream of cold air with an emotional sigh.
jack laughs softly from behind you. “there it is.”
“i could kiss you right now.”
“could?”
you turn toward him, already crossing the room. “doctor jack abbot,” you say solemnly, grabbing his face with both hands, “you’re the love of my life.”
he grins as you kiss him, cool air humming softly around the apartment for the first time all week.
“yeah,” he murmurs against your mouth. “i figured you’d react well.”
Summary: the start of your shifts begins horribly, leading you bloodied and second guessing yourself. Dr. Abbot knows where you've gone to over-think and finally gets closer a little closer after small moments of connection in the ED.
Words: 7k
Warnings: assault (code hula hoop), descriptions of various medical treatments and presenting problems, dr. robby being an ass, smoking.
a/n: who would have thought in the 2026 I'd be posting a fic. I know I had teased smth earlier in the year with bucky but I just couldn't finish it, the fic was so self-indulgent to help process personal issues going on. I absolutely LOVE the Pitt and may have a teeny-weeny crush on Shawn Hatosy...yes, I bought a Quinn subscription. Maybe they'll be a part two, maybe there won't...who knows with this blog. Anyways, enjoy. Rambo <3
You remembered the announcement as if it were yesterday; it sparked a lot of new gossip and polar-opposite opinions. When Gloria announced the “Mid-day Shift,” people were not impressed, mainly because it was not about hiring new people but about shifting current physicians around. Instead of starting at the normal Day or Night shift times, the Mid-Day shift would start halfway through either shift. The goal was to help with continuity of care and to get, for example, the Day shift out sooner, because someone was there to continue with patients instead of passing off information to someone new. Upon announcement, it was met with many questions.
Is this person going to be responsible for all the patients, and the other shift takes the new ones?
How many people will be on the mid-day shift?
Will there be a mid-night shift?
Why is this the focus when there are so many existing problems that need to be addressed?
Gloria had scheduled each resident to be on the mid-day or mid-night shift for a month. Today was your first mid-day shift; you’d start at noon and go until midnight. Typically, you were a Night shift resident and preferred to work at night. You had little social life and were content to spend your nights in the hospital working with everyone.
There weren’t friends you met up with to get coffee, there weren’t parents to call to check in, there wasn’t anything like that. Though it helped you graduate and get lots of opportunities, you had realized that spending so much time studying and keeping to yourself had very real consequences. Many of the friends you once had didn’t speak to you anymore, they put in the same effort you did, which was next to none. It wasn’t all bad; you had your friends on the Night shift, sometimes grabbing an ice cream at nine in the morning because it was a treat after a very long day. Or…night.
The blizzard of fluffy snow outside turned into a blizzard of bodies in chairs. People were taking up so much more space with their puffy jackets, and some had snowpants on. Piles of snow gear appeared on chairs, and mothers who looked half-dead, though they weren’t patients, held many toques and mittens. Pushing past, you made it to security and found your way back into the Pitt.
It was in full swing; no one had the time to greet you. This wasn’t the very first time the shift was occurring; other residences had their month of doom. However, it was still hard to get used to.
You settled in and looked around for a moment, wondering where to begin since everyone was already with their patients. Dana made her way back to the desk, smiling at you once she saw you.
“Now look who is so late, Robby is already ticked off, y’know?” She shook her head, immediately grabbed the phone, and began dialling a number.
“It’s my-”
“Hey, where the fuck have you been?” Robby suddenly appeared from behind you, “You think you can just waltz in here?” Obviously, something had happened this morning.
Honestly, you were surprised by the level of hostility; he should have known, since it was the first day of the month. “I'm on the id-day shift this month.” You said plainly, already losing the energy to hash it out with Robby.
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh…” was all he could manage for a moment, “Never mind then, come with me, I have a case for you.” He blew past you, not looking over his shoulder once.
Your relationship with Robby was complicated. You used to work during the day; it worked out that way; you didn’t have any preference. However, after a while, you had begun to notice the small ways in which Robby would treat you differently. He’d always pull you away from current patients to work on hard cases, ones that could have benefited from someone else’s perspective. Anytime you were having a hard day, stuck on a case, or not feeling your best, you could tell he judged you.
It was hard to talk to people about it, for many, Robby was their favourite, or at least someone they were scared to talk shit about. You found yourself second-guessing everything you knew and everything about you. He had eroded your confidence so slowly you didn’t realize until it was almost gone.
That all came to a head when you overheard him speaking to Dana. You were about to turn into the break room, but for some reason, you stopped in your tracks, wanting to listen to the conversation before entering.
“-Isn’t tough enough, she doesn’t have it,” Robby said.
“You’re too hard on her, you don’t give her a moment to breathe,” Dana replied.
“My job is to be hard on her. It’s my job to put pressure on her because she needs to know what she’s getting into,” you could hear what sounded like the coffee pot being placed down more aggressively than normal, “I can’t have a weak link, and I think it’s y/n.”
At that moment, your blood went cold. Not only did he speak so lowly of you, but he didn’t even use your title. Your first name sounded foreign, and for a moment, you genuinely believed he was talking about someone else. That shock lingered for a moment too long because before you could move, Robby came flying out of the staff room, running into you and spilling his coffee down your scrubs.
“y/n- I-” he stood for a moment, knowing what you had just heard.
You started him down, not even looking at Dana when she left the room, “call me Doctor l/n, Dr. Robinivich,” you spat before walking to the machine to get new scrubs.
Shortly after you moved to the night shift.
Walking in behind Robby, you were greeted by an extremely incapacitated middle-aged man wearing golf attire. His eyes were barely open, and he was constantly muttering about something you could not pick up. Robby moved to the other side of the bed and pulled up his digital chart. It seemed as though this man had just been moved into the back rooms.
“They had to sedate him on the ride over here, I guess he was an angry drunk.” Robby said as he slipped on a new pair of gloves, “Friends came by and…well…” he sighed, “I actually don’t know if they’re his friends; they wanted to see if they could go back to the course or something.”
“Huh,” you took off the stethoscope from around your neck and quickly listened to the man’s heartbeat.
“You ever golf?” Robby asked; he was never one for sitting through tension.
“Heartbeat and lungs sound good, and no.” You answered plainly, then moved on to a general scan of his body to see if anything else was wrong. As much as you could stomach the awkward silence, there was a limit to how much you could take. “There’s no adrenaline, so…no signs of discomfort in the four quadrants…” You trailed off, hoping that was a good enough answer for him to consider it small talk.
“Yeah,” Robby nodded, “makes sense,” he peeled off his gloves, moving one hand to rub the back of his neck, “what are you thinking?” he nodded toward the patient.
“Well,” you sighed and crossed your arms, taking one last good look at the man who was slowly coming to. “I think we need to first figure out how much alcohol was taken and see if any other drugs were taken. I feel like there is something else here.”
Robby nodded, making his way to the door. With his gloveless hand, he opened the door for you. Before the two of you could depart, he pivoted to face you, “Let me know when the labs come back, alright?” He stuck his hand under the automatic sanitizer dispenser.
“Will do,” you give him a tight lip smile before turning away to find another patient. As you reached the front desk, you heard the doors open, and you could hardly hide your shocked face at the tall man being wheeled in.
“A twenty-five-year-old man collapsed in pain, complaining of a searing pain in his chest as well as his back. ECG is normal on the way here, with decent blood pressure.” They pushed in quickly, swerving after hearing which trauma room was open. Robby trailed in behind you, still letting you lead. “Gave him aspirin-”
“This seems more than a heart attack,” you moved to one side of the patient while Robby moved to the other, taking off his stethoscope and checking his heart and lungs.
The paramedic rolled his eyes, “gave him aspirin and heparin when the aspirin had little to no effect.” Robby stressed that door-to-balloon time was the only important stat for the Pitt; patient satisfaction and the rest of the stats were not their concern in the slightest.
“Did you check the BP in both arms or one?” you asked, “We need to stabilize the blood pressure right away.” As you moved around the room, calling for different medications, you kept looking back to the two parademics, “Did you check both arms, yes or fucking no?”
“I didn’t check the other,” one said, looking at the other, who also shook his head.
Robby, ever the teacher, asked, “Why is that needed?”
“Because these fucking idiots were too focused on treating a heart attack to help the stats instead of realizing this is an aortic dissection, you gave blood thinners to someone who is already internally bleeding!” Right as you finished, all the machines began to scream, “Asystole!”
You jumped up, beginning chest compressions right away, “I needed an OR yesterday, we need to stabilize and get him into surgery now.” The pads were on his chest, someone yelled clearly. Your hands flew off his chest as his entire body pulsed with the electric current. “Resuming compressions- did he have any medical conditions, hypertension?” You spared a quick glance at the paramedics.
“He-he just collapsed, was in too much pain to really talk-”
“Get the fuck out, I’ll curse you two out later- I need an amp of epi and-” you let out a groan from the compressions, already feeling your brow begin to sweat, “I need to-”
Perlah reached for the phone, “OR is ready-”
“Let’s move!” You threw your leg over the man and continued compression. Everyone in the room began to push you out and past the medical desk. Everyone in the ED paused for a moment, watching you continue compression as your hair fell into your face from the force. Those pushing the gurney managed to get those in the elevator out.
Before the doors closed, the last thing you heard was Robby, “Get back to work!”
You probably should have stayed to scrub in; you weren’t yet married to the ED, but to you, you were engaged, waiting to be wed. The ED was your favourite: it was fast and unpredictable, its own world. The adrenaline high you got was closest to hard drugs as you’ll ever be; well, illegally distributed hard drugs that is. It felt euphoric to make decisions in the moment that could impact a person’s life, for better or for worse. Whittaker once said he liked being there for people, and on what is most likely their worst day, he couldn’t have said it better.
There was pressure to get a more well-rounded residency before picking a fellowship, but there were things that were too slow for you. There needed to be a reason to push, something had to be chasing you. Abbot had noticed early on your pull to the ED, taking every chance to be stationed there. It seemed he understood the need for, it was chasing you to be the thing that pushed you forward. He didn’t know about your past, even though you spent a lot of time with him at night, but he knew there was a specific type of person who went through specific things for them to be interested in working at night in the ED, and he liked you for it.
While you didn’t know about his past either, you knew the basics. You knew he served but liked to talk very little about it, you knew about his late wife, you didn’t know what he was like before he saw a therapist, but you knew he was a better person because of it. He was kind yet firm when he needed to be. He took the time to get to know each person in the ED beyond their first name and one fun fact to remember them by. For most people, conversations typically stick to one topic. You always spoke about the weather with Dana and your shared favourite artist with Dr. Ellis. Maybe Abbot had those relationships with other people, but not you.
The one moment that stuck with you the most was one winter night. A blizzard had struck Pittsburgh, and people were ordered to stay indoors. Roads and shops were closed; the blizzard was not letting up at three in the morning. A few patients were rolled in, thinking they were the hero, going for a run, and slipping on the ice. Teenagers who guessed correctly that it would be a snow day so they got in bikinis and jumped into the snowbanks at the ends of their driveways.
You were sitting in the break room, sipping a hot chocolate you made from the powder that someone had brought, knowing you would all be here for a while. Abbot walked in, nodding your direction. He seemed to stop dead in his tracks, “is that…” he trailed off and looked over to the tin, “you’re drinking hot chocolate?” he laughed, “what are you, twelve years old?” he took another look at your mug, before you could even get in a comeback he placed his hands on his knees as he doubled over in laughter, “with fucking marshmellows, now that is amazing?”
“Someone brought the stuff!” you sounded like you were twelve, trying to come up with an excuse to avoid being made fun of even further, “you can judge me all you want, but whose here enjoying a little moment of peace?” you asked, adding a “hmm?” to the end of it.
Abbot nodded with that stupid smile on his face. He didn’t say a word, but he reached over and flicked the kettle back on. “If you can’t beat ‘em, I guess,” he sighed and leaned against the counter, facing you. “You drive here?”
You took the mug away from your lips, shaking your head, “subway,” you took a sip before placing the cup down, “you?”
Abbot pulled back one side of his mouth, “drove.”
You both waited in silence for a moment, neither saying anything because there was nothing to say. In that moment of silence, you both dropped into your own little worlds, not feeling the need to keep up with the small talk.
“How are our swimmers in the snow doing?” he asked once the kettle had clicked off, referring to the teenagers who had most likely come in an hour ago; time was relative.
You nodded, “Good, yeah, I think they’re just waiting for discharge papers.”
Abbot muttered a quick nice before making his cup, “where are the-”
“The cupboard right in front of you,” you laughed.
“Perfect,” he whispered and opened the cabinet to grab the marshmallows. “Wanna do something?” he asked.
That something could mean anything, it could be let's ditch this place and go make-out in my car, let's go to the roof and catch snowflakes on our tongues, let's pull a prank on-
“Did you hear me?” he waved a hand in front of your face, giving you a smile.
“What?” You physically shook your head to shake those thoughts away.
“Wanna go give them some hot chocolate? I don’t know when they’ll be able to actually leave this place.” Abbot filled the kettle up and flicked it back on, “It was three of them, right?”
You couldn’t contain your smile, standing with your mug in your hands. You walked over to the paper cups and grabbed three. “Right,” you muttered, grabbing the tin and preemptively portioning out three drinks.
“Powder first?” Abbot questioned, “You’re crazy.”
“You’ve never seen crazy, my friend,” you giggled, turning to face him while the sound of boiling water began to grow louder. In that moment, your eyes drifted behind Abbot, “Actually, maybe you have seen crazy.”
He laughed, “I have, and I like it,” was all he added for a moment. “I can tell you like crazy as well, and I respect you for it. It takes a certain breed of person to do this, and I don’t think you’re told enough that you’re doing a really great job.”
All you could do was stand there with your mouth hung open, “What?” you breathed.
He shrugged, “I see you, the way you command the traumas, the way you keep cool in all the chaos. Not everybody can do that, not everybody wants to do that.” The kettle clicked off, but neither of you moved. He could see the way you grew uncomfortable from the praise, “No one ever told you that before? That you’re good at what you do?”
“No,” you wanted to say more, but the words died on your tongue.
“Then I’ll have to do it more often,” he then turned and poured the water in.
While the snow hammered down, you and Abbot stood in the small patient room with the three teenagers, engaging them in small talk as the five of you sipped your hot chocolate. It was hard to really pay attention to the teens talking; your mind continuously wandered back to the conversation in the break room. Your eyes slipped over to Abbot; he was listening attentively, yet he could feel your eyes on him and would quickly glance your way.
After that kind moment in the break room the two of you grew closer. He’d come in with larger dark circles under his eyes, a little more snappy than usual, but never to you. You’d saddle up beside him as he walked, asking quietly if everything was okay. If it were anyone else, they’d say they're fine, keeping it robotic. But Abbot, who had now asked you to call him Jack, admitted he hadn’t been sleeping well.
“Try a weighted blanket, it works wonders for me,” you mentioned. A few days later, Jack asked how heavy your blanket was, and a few days after that, he gave a sincere thank-you for the recommendation. Another day, you stood at the desk rubbing your temple. Bright lights and loud sounds triggered powerful pulses throughout your body. Working a double was never easy, and coffee walked a thin line between being an angel and the devil. You had off-handedly mentioned you were extremely dehydrated, just never getting a moment to fill your water bottle. It didn’t help that you were chugging coffee to try and stay alert for the first push of the double.
“Here,” Jack had placed your water bottle in front of you as you charted, “and here,” he also pushed a sandwich in a little baggy toward you.
All you could do was look up at him. “Thanks,” you said, a little breathlessly. When you picked up your water bottle, it was slightly heavier than usual.
“I know you like ice-cold water,” he smiled before walking off, leaving you completely speechless.
In the small moments you had of peace, much like the elevator down from the OR floor to the ED floor, you found yourself replaying all the small moments with Jack. A silly little crush could get you through the day and give you moments of bliss amid the chaos. It was fun to yearn, fun to think back to small moments of eye contact, little brushes of your shoulders when you walked past each other, it was fun to let your mind wander.
But those thoughts vanished instantly when the elevator doors opened. You were back in the Pitt, immediately being approached by Perlah. She gave you a sympathetic look before turning to walk with you, “Here’s the labs back on that angry drunk, looks like he had a little more fun than his golfing buddies.
You took the chart and did a quick read-over, nodding as you walked toward his room. “Playing something as boring as golf might make a person do drugs to find a sliver of fun in it,” you laughed.
Perlah shook her head, “Of course you’d say something like that, I’m actually heading this way.” She pointed in the opposite direction.
You stopped before entering the room, “let Robby know I’ve got this covered, he brought me over to the patient earlier.” Perlah gave you a nod before walking down the hall. You took a deep breath, attempting to let that aortic dissection go as it was no longer in your hands.
When you walked in the room, he was still sedated; you could hear a few groans, and he was twitching slightly. As you took the stethoscope off your neck, you looked up at his vitals, checking his heart and lungs as you contemplated what his numbers were saying. He was stirring more, his groaning growing a bit louder.
You felt his hand grab your wrist, the one on his chest connected to the hand holding the stethoscope. “Hello, sir,” you spoke softly, “you’re at-”
In an instant, you felt yourself being pushed back. The adrenaline from him had overpowered the last bit of the sedative; he managed to get to his feet but wasn’t able to stand on his own. His hands quickly grabbed hold of you for support. This, coupled with the fact that he was in a strange room with a stranger, led him to lean on your neck.
He was not steady yet; his momentum pushed you back into the wall. For a moment, right after your head smacked against the drywall, you blacked out. When you came to, most likely seconds later, those hands were still around your throat, but you were flat on your back, seeing the man’s blurry figure above you.
With all you might have tried to yell hula hoop, but there was little to no air coming out of your throat. You struggled for a moment, trying to roll him off of you. Between coming back from blacking out and losing your oxygen, there was not a moment you had clear vision. Your hands worked desperately, clawing at his forearms.
The only thing you could think of at that moment was something cruel.
With your middle and index finger, you jabbed him in the eyes, hard.
Oxygen rushed into your lungs like water crashing open a dam. You rolled on your stomach, bracing yourself on your forearms, gasping for air. For a moment, you thought you were crying, a hot drip fell down your face, but when it hit the floor, it was not a tear; it was blood. As you tried to stand up, you saw the blackness clouding your vision again. Your throat was burning, and your hand shakily reached up to the back of your head, only to reveal a large amount of blood rushing from the crack.
“Hola Hoop!” you screamed, before slowly melting into the floor.
The first thing that seeped into your consciousness was the pain. You felt it behind your eyes and around your throat. In your throat, it was a hot burn; you could feel the tenderness every time you tried to swallow your saliva. At the back of your head and in the centre of your forehead was a throbbing pain, getting more intense when you cracked your eye open. With your eyes still shut, you reached around the bed, trying to find the pager for the nurses.
Before anyone had come in, you were already performing self-status checks. You named the date, what hospital you were in, who the president is (sadly), and more. The scene before you was knocked out, replayed as well, and the last image you saw was burned into your eyelids. The man above you with a blank face, as if he were being controlled by someone else to attack you. There was no furrow in his brow, though you remember the large vein protruding from his forehead. His face is red, along with his dead eyes. Finally, your finger found the page button.
Dana pushed the door open, immediately dimming the lights. “Hey, kid,” she whispered, coming to your bedside. You could barely open your eyes, but you managed to squint and give her a smile. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit-” you broke into coughs, your throat tight and dry. Dana muttered something about water, squeezed your arm and left the room. You focused on sitting up a bit, trying to scoot your body back. You could open your eyes more now, as the dimmed light helped avoid any increase in pain. Dana came back with your water bottle, “thank you,” you said.
Dana pulled up a chair. “What do you remember?”
“Not much.”
She took a deep breath, taking your hand into hers. “You were attacked. The man was transferred to a different hospital, I’d say about a little over an hour ago.” You nodded along. “He had taken a large dose of cocaine and then drank a lot of alcohol; he had high levels of Cocaethylene.”
“How long have I been out?” You sipped the water carefully, as much as you wanted to take greedy sips, your throat burned with each swallow.
Dana sighed, “About two and a half hours, we also gave a light sedative to do your stitches on the back of your head. We did ten stitches back there.”
“I’m not surprised, first mid-day shift and my sleep schedule has been fucked because of it.” You could finally open your eyes now, seeing the concern on Dana’s face. “I’m okay now,” but your voice betrayed you, sounding like sandpaper rubbing together.
“I’m sure you are,” Dana chuckled, “I think you should go home and think about pressing charges, no need to rush anything right now because it’s all fresh but…” she glanced down at the floor, shaking her head, “I really think you should, and this is me giving advice as a friend.”
A friend.
You had never thought of Dana as a friend; you saw her for only a few hours at a time, since you mostly worked nights. Back when you were on the day shift, you didn’t talk much; she almost never had time for small talk, and if she did, she had other people to talk to. It was a big deal when Dana was assaulted; she took some time off but, like anyone else who worked in the ED, the addictive relationship lured her back in. When she came back, she didn’t talk about it, pretended it didn’t happen. You could tell she had gotten stricter on her boundaries for herself and her nurses, but it was never because she was scared it would happen to her again; she was scared it wouldn’t be her next time.
“Thank you,” you whispered, “but I’m going to stay.” She looked almost disappointed at that, “trust me, I’m okay.” You both knew you were far from it.
Dana squeezed your hand once more, knowing that trying to get you to go home was a losing battle. She left you in the room, the light still dimmed. For a moment, it was close to silent; there was a steady hum of the machines working in the room; the other time you could hear it was when a patient died, and everyone sat in the moment of shock.
Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you reached your hand back and gently touched where the pounding resonated. Your finger carefully hovered over the stitches as you counted them, nodding to yourself when you hit ten. Then, your hand moved down to the other source of pain. There were no mirrors, so you were unsure if bruises had begun to bloom, but the moment you touched the sides of your neck, your hand retracted in pain. If there wasn’t a bruise already, there would be soon.
Slowly, you stood, gently moving your head from side to side. You tried to slowly touch your ear to your shoulder, feeling the stretch and burn that came with it. Behind your eyes, the pounding was still there, steadily increasing with your heart rate from standing.
Right as you were about to shove everything down, saving it for the end of your shift, the door opened once more.
Robby.
The absolute last person you wanted to see.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “So…” he nodded towards you. “How are you doing?”
You swallowed hard, looking for your water bottle, “I’m fine, give me two minutes and I’ll be back out there.” You were shocked to hear a laugh come from him, “What?” you spat.
“You need to go home, you have no reason to be here right now.”
“I am fine, I can get through the shift and then maybe- maybe -take some time off.” You rolled your shoulders back, taking a deep breath.
Robby wiped his hand down his face, “You are not invincible, why do you act like it?”
“I know I’m not invincible, but I know when it is too much, and it’s not too much.” You tried to walk to the door, but he didn’t move. “Move out of my way.”
Robby scoffed, “That is not how you speak to an attending. When I give you orders, you follow them.”
You looked up at him, “Are you an attending or a fucking general?” You crossed your arms, feeling the ache in your back but not letting it show on your face, “We both know that if this happened to you, you would be right back in there.”
“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t have happened to me, let’s be honest.” He stepped to the side, pulling the curtain to cover the window into the room. “If I were there, it would not have happened.”
You shook your head, “What are you trying to say to me right now? That this was my fault?”
“I’m not saying that,” Robby spoke quietly, but he didn’t elaborate.
“Just fucking say it.”
The words were caught right on the top of his tongue; his jaw flexed as he tried his hardest to keep it all in. You repeated yourself, egging him on. “You went in there because you were high off your save with the aortic dissection that you thought you could handle on your own.”
It was a slap in the fucking face. “You have to be joking. It hurt to laugh, but you did it anyway: “Not everyone has a death wish like you, not everyone needs to stroke their ego every chance they get!” Yelling was worse, but you needed to do that too, “I was going in to get a status update to then get you, if I had gotten you first, you would have yelled at me for wasting your time- I can’t fucking win with you!”
Robby shook his head, “There is nothing wrong with me; you’re the one who bites off more than they can chew.” In all honesty, you could have fought him right then and there.
“But if I stay conservative, checking in with you at every moment, then you say I’m not independent and not confident enough.” You threw your arms up, “You think you’re this all-knowing, omnipotent being that has graced the ED with your presence, but no, you’re a fucking tyrant that sees everything as an attack on you- it’s not fucking about you!”
Robby stepped forward again, “You better watch it,” he snapped, “I have full control to report you.”
Your lip was caught between your teeth; you had so much more to say to him. “Exactly my point,” you whispered before leaving the room, waiting to hear if he’d follow you, but he didn’t.
Abbot walked into the ED and immediately approached Dana at the desk. A black phone was tucked at her neck, her shoulder pressing it to her ear. She looked sad, maybe exhausted was a better word; it was the end of her shift after all.
“Hey,” he muttered when she put the phone down with a heavy sigh. He decided to let her come to him. “How’s the night been?” He circled the desk, placing his bag and coffee by his computer. When she didn’t answer right away, he froze, looking at her hunched shoulders and bowed head. “Hey,” he whispered and walked up beside her, placing a light hand on her back, “what’s wrong?”
Dana placed her hand over her mouth when all she could do was mutter your name, and his heart sank. “She…she was assaulted,” Jack felt as if a bucket of ice water was dumped on top of him.
“What?” he breathed, “what happened?” He looked up, and around the ED, you weren’t anywhere to be found. “Where is she? I need to go see her-”
“I just left the examination room, gave her a couple of minutes, she basically just woke up, was asleep for a couple of hours.” Dana looked up at him, nodding as he took in the information, “she wants to stay, and I don’t think I can convince her otherwise, take it easy on her for the rest of the shift, alright? Especially-” she points to the phone that was just hung up, “-especially after this.”
“After what?” Jack turned his body to face her; he was caught between staring holes in her head and scanning the ED.
“Her patient died in surgery, Robby mentioned the paramedics did a shit job, I don’t think I have the heart to tell her.”
“I’ll-” his voice got caught in his throat, for a moment, he saw you. You looked like you were in a rush, shoving open the door to your room, your head down, and your footsteps never faltering. “I’ll tell her,” he saw the way you pushed past everyone, heading to the stairwell, he knew where you were going. Right before he left to follow you, he saw Robby leaving the same room.
In that moment, he chose to stay, seeing the way his brow was furrowed and his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Something had happened, he trusted you not to do anything stupid on the roof. He didn’t trust Robby not to blow up and make a scene. He watched as Robby walked over, hand rubbing the back of his neck.
Jack didn’t start the conversation, Robby barely waited to get close enough to him and Dana to start shit-talking one of his residences. Robby wiped a hand down his face, “Some people, man…” he sighed.
“What’s up?” Jack pretended not to care, pretended he didn’t just see you flee. All Robby could do was sign your name, annoyed out of his mind. “What about her?”
“She just tries to be the hero time and time again; she never learns that there are other people in the ED.” At that, Jack scoffed. “What?” Robby looked over at Jack, no longer flipping through charts.
“You could say the same about you,” Jack said plainly. Dana walked away. “Not everyone is attacking you; you don’t always need to be the victim.”
“The victim?" Robby laughed, “I’m just sick of other people not seeing how she is just constantly trying to prove something.”
“She’s not proving anything,” Jack snapped, taking the iPad out of Robby’s hands so there was nowhere for Robby to escape. “She was attacked, and she still wants to work, that’s what I call resilient- maybe a little dumb -but resilient.” Robby didn’t seem to be really listening, “Maybe if you took a second to get to know her, to build a relationship with her, you’d understand who she is and how selfless she is.” Jack waved his hand, deciding he was now going to find you, “You just can’t comprehend someone who doesn’t kiss your ass twenty-four-seven!”
A few other nurses and doctors turned their heads. Jack was worried about the wrong person making a scene. He knew exactly where you were; he had mentioned the roof being his spot a while ago. He left out key details, such as which side of the railing he stood on; he was more focused on the view from up there, especially during sunset. He had time to find you since he was early, as always, but he knew you were technically still on the clock, though you were considered extra.
The elevator ride up was painfully slow; he rocked back and forth as the anticipation grew. Once he hit the top floor, he made his way to the stairwell, the only way to get to the roof. The stairs never got easier; no staircase was easy. Over the years,, he learned to adapt, but there was always discomfort with certain things.
The industrial door scared you when it opened. You jumped as you turned back, almost dropping the lit cigarette in your hand. You swore you heard a subtle ‘thank god’ from Jack as he approached you.
He nodded to your hand, “What the fuck are you doing with those?” he shook his head, trying his best to be upset with your decision.
“Leave me alone,” you turned back to the last bits of the sunset, “I just needed something.”
Jack nodded, standing beside you, “I get it…I mean, I don’t like it but I get it,” he reached his pointer finger and thumb out, pinching once.
“Hypocrite,” you laughed, passing it over to him.
For a moment, you stood in silence, letting the sound of the cigarette fill your ears with every drag. He gave it back to you, muttering that you could finish it. Your hands brushed when he passed it to you, his dry fingertips scraping over yours.
“I heard about-” he could barely say, “how are you doing?”
You shrugged. From the corner of your eye, you could see him look at you. The exhaustion was catching up; you moved to the ground and sat cross-legged. Looking up at Jack’s shocked face, you pat the ground beside you. He sat with a groan, sticking his legs out and bracing his hands behind him.
“I’ve got a heavily bruised throat, ten stitches, and yet the thing that hurts the most is Robby.” You felt like a child admitting it, blaming someone else for how you felt about something that had nothing to do with him. His reaction bypassed all the other issues during the day. “I’ve got this patient in surgery, he will probably die because the paramedics were so worried about treating a heart attack to help our ratings, heart-to-ballon time is all Robby cares about, and now this, basically, kid might die because-”
“He did.” Jack couldn’t hold it in any longer, your head whipped to look at him, and he could see the grimace in the fast movement. “When I walked in, I-...” he looked back out to the city, “Dana just hung up the call, had just come from seeing you, and I offered.” He looked back at you, “I’m sorry, it wasn’t your fault.”
You nodded, biting your lip hard. Jack’s face contorted with worry as he saw your eyes well up with tears, “I can’t believe that,” you whispered, “I just-...” your hand moved to cover your mouth, “I mean I get it, people make mistakes and I don’t blame those paramedics, not fully but…” you looked over at Jack, “Robby basically said it was my fault, getting attacked,” you could see the rage forming in Jack, “he said that because ripped a new one in both paramedics I was high on-” you waved your hand, “I forget what he said but he basically said I should have gotten him before checking on this patient, that I got one win and ran with it.”
Jack shook his head, “That’s ridiculous.”
You looked down, and the cigarette had burned to the filter. You flicked it away and placed your head in your palms. “But what if he’s right?” You couldn’t even look at Jack when you said, “What if I bite more off than I can chew?”
“Hey,” Jack placed a hand on your shoulder, “Robby is-...” he sighed, “well, Robby is a lot of things, but most importantly, he’s oblivious.” Jack followed your eyes to make sure you were looking at him when he spoke, “You truly are a once-in-a-lifetime doctor, you’re talented and smart, you’re a go-getter, you’re funny,” he laughed, “you’re someone I look forward to seeing every shift.”
You could help but smile; the tears fell down your face from the soft squint of your eyes. “Me too,” you whispered, “I think you’re an incredible person,” for a moment, you wanted to say attending, and maybe you should have. But it felt right, “I still think back to making those hot chocolates with you.”
Jack smiled, “Me too.” For a moment, you just stared at one another, the first time you could do so unabashedly. “It would be such a loss to lose you to Robby, especially to him. I know it’s hard, but you can’t let him get to you. I mean, I love the guy, we’re each other's emergency contacts, but…he’s a good doctor but not a good teacher, and I hate when that becomes a detriment to the students.”
“Yeah,” you managed to get out, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. You could tell from the way he froze that he wasn’t expecting the touch. But quickly moving his arm to wrap around your shoulder told you he welcomed the touch.
“You’re one of a kind,” he rested his head against yours, “I’ll remind you every day if I have to.”
