dana’s daughter x jack abbot?
This is so fun wtf thank you!? I left it a little open ended in case y'all are feeling a pt. 2, I'm personally 50/50 <3
Imperfect
Content: Reader has a panic attack + negative thought spiral. Medical inaccuracies bc I don't know shit about how ERs work unfortunately. Drunk driving & death mentions.
Word Count: 2.8k
EDIT: CHECK OUT THIS POST!
Sometimes you forget your mother wasn't born with her nursing degree. It's easy to when you're watching her rush around the ER like it's more her home than the one you were raised in. You saw it for the first time one night in your early teens. You were on your way home from a volleyball tournament when the bus was t-boned and flipped. Stuck there for hours, you found yourself mesmerized by the way your mom ran from room to room to save lives as easily as she kissed your skinned knees. That was the day you decided to go into nursing. The world needed more of your mom, and you'd work your ass off to become her.
Sitting at the nurse's station at 5 am, you feel that goal is farther than ever. Nearly a month ago, one of the night shift nurses- Nyla- went on maternal leave. As the newest addition, you were stuck with the short end of the stick. Every night since felt like your own personal hell.
The ER is completely different at night. You're not sure even you mother could wrangle the chaos you're living through tonight. She could. She very easily could. But you're not her. So, stuck in the height of your first full moon shift- which everyone you talked to tonight had warned you about- you hide your head in your hands and try not to cry. Nursing school wasn't easy. The day shift wasn't easy. But, fuck if the night shift wasn't kicking your ass routinely.
Tonight, you've been puked on, peed on, bitten, screamed at, and nearly assaulted by a particularly angry patient in Room 6 when you told him he wouldn't be getting any more drugs. Not to mention the elbow you took to the collarbone while breaking up one of the fights that broke out in Chairs.
You've held your tongue at every turn. You'd been warned that nurses take on a level of abuse with every shift. It's a shitty truth none of you get to escape. Your mom wouldn't complain, so you don't. You just take five seconds to catch your breath and put some pressure against the stabbing pain behind your eyes.
There's a tap against your shoulder, a gentle rattle of pills against plastic. Looking up, you're surprised to see Jack Abbot standing over you, offering a bottle of Advil. In your hesitancy- because, why the hell is Jack Abbot singling you out to solve a problem you didn't, and weren't going to, tell him about- he shakes the bottle again. "Take it. I need you at your best or not at all."
"Uh, yeah," You finally reach out and take the bottle. "Thanks."
He barely nods, barely gives any sign that he even heard you at all. But he stands there, head titled as he watches you palm a few pills and chase them with (your third) cup of coffee. Figuring he's waiting for his bottle back, you start to hand it over when the ambulance bay doors open. You're already on your feet.
"Incoming!" A paramedic, Ziggy, shouts, running in a gurney. "Hit by a car."
Jack is jogging to meet them. "Evans!" He orders you to follow even though you already are.
"Male, early 40's, coded on the way in." Ziggy informs, handing the man over to you and Jack. "Got the driver coming right behind us."
"I can-"
"No." Jack's voice drowns out what was going to be your offer to help with the driver. "With me, Trauma 3."
You're too focused to let it surprise you, so you just nod and help him wheel your patient into the room. Before Jack is able to fully intubate the man, he crashes again.
"Evans, start CPR."
In your adrenaline, the world speeds up. The only thing keeping you grounded is Jack's voice and muscle memory.
"Give me a charge."
"Clear."
"Resume CPR."
"Switch."
"Try again!"
Jesse is who calls time of death. The man's ribs are shattered from Jack all but shoving you out of the way and starting his own compressions. And restarting. And restarting.
You wipe sweat from your forehead, heart still racing as you unplug the patient. "Was there... was there a wallet, or,"
A chain catches your eye. Dogtags lay at the base of your patient's neck and you suddenly understand why Jack had been so aggressive. You swallow the sudden lump in your throat and gently take the metal into your fingers.
"Raymond Orser." You read, daring to glance up. It's only you and Jack in the room now, his eyes are locked on Raymond's face, his breath heaving. You thought it was from the excursion, but you see now it's anger. You quickly read off the rest of his information and leave the room with your head hung.
You didn't know much about Jack, only having met him through get-togethers with Robby- he never came if Robby had to miss. Through the nurses, though, you knew he was ex-military. Some suspected he would still be in the Army if he'd never lost his leg. You quickly found yourself agreeing.
It's always tough to lose a patient, especially one you can relate to. So, as you begin gathering your things- you'd been working on Raymond for nearly two hours- you realize, you're worried about the usually stone-cold doctor. If you're feeling that pit off loss, of guilt and shame, you can't imagine what Jack is feeling. You're not sure you want to.
You see your mother coming in to take over as Charge Nurse. That pit quadruples in size, daring you swallow you.
She wouldn't have lost him.
If she'd been there, it would've been different.
The thoughts hit you suddenly and with a near physical force. You shake your head to push them away but all you do is make room for more, harsher things.
You weren’t good enough. That’s why he’s dead.
You got in the way.
Jack could’ve saved him if you weren’t there.
Your lungs refuse to take in any more air. You put a hand against the nearest wall to hold yourself up. With your other hand, you dig knuckles into your chest, trying to get your lungs and heart to cooperate. Ahead, you see your mom glancing around. You two have made a ritual of checking in before you leave every shift. This time, you’re not sure you can face her. No, you know you can’t.
She wouldn’t be acting like this.
She would have her shit together.
You throw yourself through the nearest door, panicked breaths echoing through the stairwell. “Fuck-“ You gasp, sticking your hands on your knees. You’re only a little surprised to find that you’re trembling. “Goddamnit, get it together, Evans.” Tears push through your tightly squeezed eyes.
Air. You need fresh air. You need to take in a breath that isn’t sharp with antiseptic.
Your feet are moving before you really make the decision. They take you rushing up the stairs flights and shoving through the roof’s access door. Harsh gasps make your lungs ache, the lack of any real air makes your head spin. You practically run to the railing, shaking hands grip around the top bar to keep yourself from toppling over. You need to see the ground, though. You need to see life moving at a distance from you, to be removed from it for just five minutes.
“Evans?”
You whip around. A gasp would’ve escaped you if you weren’t already struggling for breath.
“Jesus, are you okay?” He’s walking over before you can beg him not to.
“Mhm,” You nod, the noise coming out shrill and almost pained. “No-“
His brows furrow as he frowns down at you. “Breathe with me.”
“I’m fine, I swear.” You force yourself to say, the words are broken and pathetic.
He clearly doesn’t buy it, very slowly coming forward. “Evans…” His hands grip your shoulders firmly. Firm despite you think he’s shaking, too. “Breathe. With me.”
You nod, cringing. “Okay. Okay.”
There’s several seconds of uneasy breathing until you’re able to see straight again. His hands fall from your shoulders, once he decides you’re settled. He gives you a nod.
“Thanks, um,” You gulp down the pain in your throat. “I’m sorry-“
He shakes his head. “No. No, you don’t apologize for being human.”
“Embarrassingly human.”
He huffs, half smiling. “What do you think I’m up here for?”
Your brows twitch as you finally look at him with tear-free eyes. The muscles in his jaw are working, his face a slightly angrier expression than usual. From the few things you know about Jack, he’s pissed.
“I… I don’t know.” You confess. “I didn’t figure you really ever needed a second.”
He gives you a sad, tired mouth twitch. “I needed a lot more than a second, kid.”
You sniffle. “Well, I’m sorry for interrupting.” He shakes his head but you ignore it. “I’ll just… head back down,”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. No, yeah, I don’t want to be in your hair-“
“Don’t leave on account of me.” He says quietly.
Now you have to ask, “You’re sure?” because Jack is possibly the last person you expected to be okay with showing his vulnerability.
“You aren’t ready to go back down there yet.”
“That doesn’t mean-“
“Kid.” He says, sternly. “Stay. I’m telling you to, okay?”
You nod, shocked into silence. He moves back to the railing, leaving you to slowly follow. You lean beside him, casting cautious glances in the silence. The silence that’s nearly suffocating you. But you’d already interrupted his breath of air, you didn’t need to push your luck any further. The city below you is just waking up and getting to work while you’re getting ready to crawl in bed and forget about the bustling beneath.
Beneath.
Beneath.
You know your mom is downstairs probably wondering where the hell you are. She hasn’t text you to ask, but you’re sure that will only last for a few more minutes. You hope no one tells her that you were in the room. It’s her job to know everything else, of course, but you can’t handle the pity she’ll surely offer if she knew. Raymond Orser isn’t the first person you’ve lost and he won’t be the last. Probably not even this week. So, why the hell, was he weighing on you so heavily?
“You know he served three tours?” Jack’s voice is rough and quiet.
“Um, no.”
He only nods down at his clasped hands as he wrings them together. “Three tours and not a single scratch…”
“We couldn’t have done…” You trail off. It’s the truth, you both know it. Still, you can’t bring yourself to really say it.
“Two hours, Evans. That’s how long we spent coding him.”
“I know.” You whisper, eyes watching tears well in his. “We worked as hard as we could.”
“He doesn’t have any family. Just a sister I already notified.”
You cringe. “I didn’t know that either.”
“I know.” He says quietly. “I… I, uh,” His hand slips into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope. “I wrote something for them before I saw… and, uh-“ He clears his throat, fiddling gently with the paper. “Anyway.” He slips it back into its place. “I’m going to give it to Robby, and,” He swallows with a cringe. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, kid.”
“That’s okay.” You whisper. “Tell me anyway.”
He looks at you, sad eyes meeting yours for the first time in minutes. He doesn’t say anything, just stares into your -probably equally as worn- soul.
“I’m sure his sister will really appreciate whatever you said in that letter.”
He looks away before muttering, “Yeah."
Seeing how he looks almost pained to speak directly to you, you look away.
After a moment, he hangs his head with a heavy sigh before standing up from the railing. He turns to look fully down at you. You quickly turn to look up at him. "You did good tonight, kid. Don't let yourself think otherwise. Got it?"
You nod, having been repeating the same affirmations.
"I mean it." He pushes, leaning in over you slightly.
"I know."
"But you don't believe it."
Your jaw falls slack nearly an inch. You want to protest but words the right words fail you.
"Anyone else would've told me to call it." He says quietly, green eyes showing a vulnerability that makes your heart race. "You should've. But you didn't."
"I... didn't even think to."
He nods in a way that tells you he knows, has known the whole time. "You're good at this, Evans. You're made for it."
All expression falls from your face. Despite feeling like you're staring up at him dumbly, you can't pull on a facade of any kind. He's fully ripped you of all armor, leaving you completely exposed to the chilly morning air. And he knows it.
His eyes leave your eyes for only a moment to scan the rest of you. Your sagged shoulders, your affected breath as it rises and falls in your chest. "Nyla comes back in two weeks. You gonna go back onto the day shift?"
You blink, thankful for the question, for something you can make yourself react to. "That was my plan."
He steps closer, making your breath catch in your throat. "You probably should." He says lowly.
You try to figure out what to say to that. Try and fail. Because you aren't really sure what he's trying to say. So, that's what let out. "I don't understand... You just said," You let your voice trail off. Your brain is tired. Exhausted, really. It doesn't want to do any more work. And that's all Jack Abbot is. Something to make a brain flip over itself to figure out.
"I know. And I mean it. But I think it's best you go back to work under Robby."
Your brows furrow and you fall a step back to rebuild your defenses. "If-if you think that I can't handle-"
He shakes his head. "You did damn good work tonight." He steps closer than before. "And back there in Trauma 3? Kid... you made me feel something I did think I would again."
Your head spins. Your jaw falls slack for the uptenth time tonight.
"You need to leave because..." He takes a deep breath, eyes dropping from yours and landing on your parted lips. "If I do this..." Gently, almost hesitantly, his hands find your arms. He doesn't pull you closer, doesn't take another step. Just holds you there. "I don't think I'll be able to stop."
A heavy breath leaves you in your surprise. In no small corner of your mind did you ever think that this man was into you. You weren't sure that he even really liked you. And maybe he didn't. Maybe this was grief or guilt or both talking. "I-"
"Tell me to stop." His whispers a plea, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips again as he leans in slowly. Slowly enough to give you ample opportunity to pull away.
But you don't.
Your eyes fall shut and you let yourself lean into him. When his lips touch yours, he lets out a sigh that's something between frustration and relief. In an instant, his hands are slipped from your arms to your waist to pull you in. Even as his lips find yours again, again and hungrier this time, you hesitate to move your hands up to the back of his neck. A large part of you doesn't quite believe this is happening yet.
Not even as his tongue slips into your mouth, searching for your own.
You pull away only to breathe, your face hot. As you do, one of your hands slides down to rest on his chest. You can feel his heart is beating as hard as your own. You stare up at him, practically panting, completely shocked.
"What if... I didn't want to go back on the day shift?" You manage to ask.
He sighs, hands flexing on your waist. "That isn't a good idea, kid."
You half smile. "Neither is this."
"No," He admits. "Neither is this." Despite his words, his eyes seem to favor your puffy lips. His tongue flicks out to wet his own, and it's like he's begging you for more.
The roof's access door creaks loudly, making the two of you rip away from each other. Robby looks a little surprised to see you. "Jack." He greets cautiously. "Evans. Morning..."
You nod. "Morning, Robby. I was just... catching my breath." You force a smile and mumble a quick bye before all but running past Robby and through the access door.
Divider cred: @enchanthings
