Summary: She’s the light of the ER, one who pushes through what no one expects her to. However, when you’re only human, that’s not sustainable.
Warnings: Description of having a panic attack and experiencing burnout.
Notes: established relationship.
Word count: 1,467
Dennis looked down at his watch, checking the time on this ever slow-moving shift. It was 3 p.m., a time when usually the chaos of the ER would begin to pick up, but today seemed to be a rarity of simple treatments and routine procedures.
The calm wasn’t the only strange thing. He realized that it had been far too long since he had last seen you. You were the light of his life, and he didn’t think he could survive going through a shift without hearing your witty comments and the soft laugh that followed. The ER needed people like you. You had a way of bringing joy into each room like it belonged there.
Dr. Robinavitch stopped in the hallway near Dennis momentarily to apply hand sanitizer, so Dennis turned to ask if he had seen you lately.
He paused for a second, seeming to consider what to say.
“Oh, uh…I told her to take a break,” he said, his tone detached enough that Dennis didn’t quite know how to take it.
His brow scrunched. “A break? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her take a break.”
It was rare that you were ever able to, but even when others suggested it, you brushed it off and kept moving. Taking a break, to you, just meant that you were helping fewer people, and that never sat right with you. Thank God for the invention of protein bars.
Robby exhaled. “Yeah, me neither, but I told her she needed one.”
Instantly, Dennis knew that something had to be very wrong. He had always believed you were nearly invincible, the way you moved through the hospital even on the most stressful days with a smile glued to your face.
“Is she okay?” he asked, quiet enough that others around couldn’t hear.
Robby didn’t respond immediately, which only furthered Dennis’s concern.
“She’s strong. She’ll be alright.”
Dennis had a few follow-up questions, but before he could ask, Robby was swept away by Dana.
So immediately, Dennis went to check the lounge, and to his dismay, he couldn’t find you. However, it didn’t take long for him to think of where you might be if you truly needed to get away.
The closed wing of the hospital, the perfect place for a crisis.
He moved quickly toward the elevator. When he reached the right floor, he swiftly navigated the halls, checking each room. That was until, up on his right, he heard the muffled sound of gasping, and Dennis hurried to the door.
Peeking in, he saw you, and the sight nearly broke his heart.
You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, breath heaving, the idea of it stabilizing seeming impossible. Tears streamed down your face, hot and unforgiving. This room, meant to give you space and solace, seemed to do nothing of the sort.
Dennis was quick to your side, sitting in front of you on the hospital bed.
When you felt the pressure dip, you opened your eyes.
The tightness in your chest only seemed to constrict further.
Dennis looked at you carefully, like he didn’t quite know what to say but wanted more than anything for you to feel better.
“Baby,” he breathed, his hand wrapping around your back.
“Dennis,” you choked between sobs. “I’m…I…I’m sorry.” You could barely breathe, but you wished he would go he couldn’t see you like this.
But here he was, and you knew he wouldn’t leave. Your Dennis would never. As much as that thought should have comforted you, it didn’t. He was witnessing the mess you had become, and that made your chest tighten even more.
You cried harder, leaning your face back into your hands.
“I need you to breathe,” he said, his voice warm and steady as he began to rub slow circles into your back.
“I—I can’t,” you gasped as your mind continued to spiral. You couldn’t remember another time you had felt such unmoored terror, like the ground had been ripped out from under your feet. Your whole body felt out of your control.
“I know you can.”
You shook your head.
He lifted his hand to your chin, directing your gaze to his.
“Just follow me. Just try, okay?”
And you did, because you had yet to master the art of saying no to the kindest man you knew.
You tried your best to copy his breathing patterns, though your breath stuttered and sped up a few times before finally synchronizing with his.
“You’re okay,” he affirmed.
When Dennis believed your breathing had fully stabilized, he pulled you into a tight hug. You immediately tucked your head into his neck and clung to him like a lifeline.
How this man had the miraculous ability to make you feel better, you had no idea. Mere seconds ago, you had wanted him to leave, but now, as he held you, that idea alone felt terrifying.
“Everything will be alright,” he spoke softly into your hair. The words felt so gentle, a stark contrast to the storm that still rattled in your chest.
“I’m here. I love you.”
You felt like a boat being guided back to shore.
“I’m so sorry,” you murmured, your words muffled against his chest.
“No, don’t be.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumbs warm as they brushed away tears you hadn’t realized were still falling.
You gazed into his eyes, and echoing through the stillness was a realization.
You sat up straighter.
“No, no—I should be working. I have to—” You tried to get up, but Dennis held you in place with a firm grip on your shoulders.
“You’re not working. Not now, okay?”
“But—”
He cut you off with a firm shake of his head.
“Take another deep breath.”
You did.
His hand remained gentle on your cheek, and he gave you a nod of approval after each steady inhale.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
A shaky exhale left your throat.
“I don’t…I don’t know exactly. A patient yelled at me, said I seemed confused and that they wanted a real doctor.”
You tried desperately to stabilize your breathing before continuing.
“This shit happens all the time. I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing is wrong with you.”
You avoided his eyes.
“Do you hear me? Nothing.”
Your throat tightened, a shaky breath slipping past your lips. “I tried to keep it together,” you admitted quietly. “I really did.”
“I know you did,” Dennis said without hesitation. “You always do.”
“You push yourself so hard. At some point, the human body can’t take it anymore.” His grip around you was soothing as his thumbs rubbed gently against your side.
“I should be stronger than this.”
“No—no one expects that,” his voice was firm, a tone that suggested there was no way you could argue against him.
“You need to go back to work, Dennis,” you whispered, guilt filling your chest that you had kept him here.
“I will, once I know you’re okay.”
You nodded before leaning back into his embrace. He held you with one hand at the nape of your neck and the other at your lower back.
“I’m going to call you an Uber.”
“What?” You leaned back, puzzled.
“You’re going to go home and rest. I’ll talk to Robby, you know he’ll understand.”
“Dennis…” you trailed off.
“Please. Please just do it for me.”
He looked at you with a steady expression that left no room for doubt or pushback.
Your body resisted the idea, heavy with exhaustion and guilt, but your heart knew that going home was the right thing to do. Plus, you loved him too much not to listen and trust him.
“Okay,” you finally replied, and you saw the tension release from his shoulders.
He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on your lips, an action that said everything all at once: I love you. I’m sorry. Thank you.
⸻
He closed the door gently, an attempt not to wake you if you had fallen asleep.
He crept through the front hallway and into the living room, where he saw you fast asleep on the couch in his favorite blue hoodie. The sight made his heart swell.
He knew he should leave you to rest, but he also desperately wanted you close. So after slipping off his shoes and changing, he returned to the couch. He lay down beside you, then shifted you ever so gently so you could rest on top of him.
You stirred for a second before muttering, “Dennis?”
“Shh, go back to sleep,” he whispered, brushing his hand gently over your hair.
“I love you,” you murmured, your voice quiet, velveted with fatigue.
“Hey Abbot.” Chantanah says as Abbot passes through. “We got a new girl starting with us today.” She nods her head towards you as your fixing the id badge that won’t stay clipped on your scrub pocket.
“Ah. Fresh blood for the night shift”. He steps around the corner and holds his hand out. “Hi. I’m Jack Abbot” you shake his hand. “Hi.” As you say your name your badge falls again. Jack picks it up. “May I?”
“Oh. Sure. I can’t get it to stay on.”
Jack, with the badge in his hand, steps closer and instead of attaching it to your pocket, his fingers lift up the collar of your scrub top and clip it there. “There. Hopefully it stays this time.”
“Thanks.”
“Have a good first shift.” He walks away.
“Why is your face all red?” Chantanah asks.
“It’s a normal color thank you very much.”
The first shift was a big learning curve for you, learning how to check patients in and how to deal with insurance. By the end of the third shift, you got the hang of it for the most part. You make the decision that since you’re going to be in this position for the foreseeable future you’re going to enjoy it as much as you can. You buy themed and seasonal scrubs, along with some festive window clings for the desk, when you’re lying in bed after your shift.
You don’t really have any more interactions with Dr. Abbot the rest of the week, but you do get to see him walk by several times a shift. It was hard not to notice when he walked by, your body seemed to have some internal radar that went off when he was near.
Why were you attracted to a man in his 50’s? You had a normal childhood, there’s no daddy issues. Standing at the registration desk looking at Dr. Abbot as he walked by again you start to question all that. Why does he look so good? Seriously, it’s not fair.
- - -
You walk into the ED wearing a pair of scrubs with little flowers everywhere for a shift that marks you being employed here for a week. Dr. Robby is walking by finishing up his shift when you’re getting settled at the desk. He’s talking to Gloria about some staffing issue at the registration desk, how they’re short staffed for tomorrow. Robby looks at you and catches your eye.
“Hey. Whats your name again?”
You say your name and it comes out more like a question. He looks up your schedule and sees that the next shift you work after tonight is in two nights.
“Think you can handle a double? Come in for the day shift before yours and cover the desk?”
“Oh. Sure. I can do that.” You’re not sure how you’ll manage to stay up for that long but you’re definitely not to going to say no when you’ve only been here a week.
“Great.” He turns to Gloria. “See. It’s fixed.”
They both walk off down the corridor.
- - -
The morning of your double shift, you shower and pack your lunch and dinner and some snacks. You dress in scrubs that have little tiny woodland creatures.
You find that the day shift has its own rhythm compared to the night shift. By the time the end of the day shift comes, you’re tired but not exhausted and you think you can handle doing this for another 12 hours.
Jack comes in for his shift a bit early and sees you at the desk. He finds Robby leaning against the nurses station.
“Why is my registration clerk working right now?”
Robby sets his IPad down on the counter. “Your registration clerk?”
“Yes. She’s on my shift. Why is she here now?”
“I needed someone to fill in, so she’s doing a double.”
“This is her first week. You should have picked someone else.”
“You normally don’t care who works that desk. What’s with the concern?”
Jack looks towards the desk where you’re sitting at. “She’s too nice and wasn’t going to say no to you. She’ll be dead by the end of the shift. Just pick someone else next time.” Jack says as he go to drop his bag off.
- - -
You’re able to get through the first nine hours of the night shift. With three hours left, you’re starting to drag. You already had some coffee but you don’t think the caffeine has ever kicked in. At some point, you rest your eyes for just a second only for Jack to walk by and stop right next to you.
“Walk with me for a moment.”
“Oh. Um. Who’s going to watch the desk?”
“It’s covered. Come on. Up you go.” He grabs your elbow and makes you stand up. He places his hand on the small of your back and guides you to the ambulance bay.
“I thought the fresh air would wake you up a bit.” Jack says as he removes his hand from your back.
“Thank you. I’m struggling a bit. A double is no joke.” You rub your eyes.
“Think you can handle a couple more hours of the shift?”
You nod and yawn. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Here.” Jack hands you a candy bar. “Eat this and head back in when you’re done.”
“Oh. Thanks Dr. Abbot.”
As he turns to go back in to the ED, he looks at you. “Make sure you see me before you leave. I want to make sure you’re okay to get home. If you’re not, I’ll take you.”
- - -
By the end of the shift, you’re dragging. You have never been this tired before, everything has this film of haze on it. Every little task seems to take you forever. You think you hear your name being called, but honestly you may just be hearing things at this point.
Jack walks up to you and places a hand on your shoulder to turn you around to face him. “Hey. I called your name and you didn’t answer. You okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired.” At this point you’re dead on your feet and Jack knows it.
He grabs your bag and steers you toward the exit. “Alright sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.” The walk through the parking lot is quiet. You start to veer towards your car but Jack keeps his hand on you and steers you towards his. “I’m taking you.” You open your mouth to reply but he shakes his head. “No arguing. I’m making sure you get home safe.”
You let out a yawn. “What about my car?”
“It’ll still be here tomorrow. I’ll pick you up before shift and bring you.”
Once you get to Jack’s vehicle, he opens the passenger door for you and buckles you in. “You can adjust the temperature of you want.”
When he gets into the car, you give him your address to enter into his phone.
“Next time Robby asks you to do this, come see me. I’ll be sure to tell him to find someone else.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Of course not. You did great. I just don’t like seeing you push yourself this hard.”
When you get to your apartment building, Jack walks you up to the building’s door. “You good to make it from here?”
You nod. “Thank you for the ride.”
“No problem. Get some rest. I’ll pick you up before our shift.” He gives your upper arm a squeeze before you unlock the door and walk up the steps. When you get to your place, you quickly shower and crawl into bed, asleep in minutes.
- - -
Your alarm wakes you up about two hours before Jack is set to pick you up. You scroll through your phone for a few minutes before getting ready and receive a text message from an unknown number.
Hi. This is Jack Abbot. I got your number from the staff directory, hope you don’t mind. I’ll pick you up in about two hours, if that works for you.
You smile at the text and reply.
Hi! No problem. Thanks for driving me. 😊
You save his number in your phone and start to get ready. Knowing that Jack is picking you up, you spend a little bit more time on your appearance. Your scrubs for today have little tiny suns on it. You pack a few snacks and sit on your couch waiting for Jack to arrive. Your phone buzzes with a text a moment later from Jack.
I’m here.
On my way. Thanks again.
Jack is waiting outside his vehicle as you open the door to your building. When you get closer to his ride, he opens up the passenger door for you.
“Thank you for taking me.” You say as you set your bag on the floor and buckle up.
“No problem.” He reaches behind you towards the back seat and pulls out a Tupperware container and hands it to you. Before he pulls into traffic. “Here. It’s some pasta that I made after shift. I wasn’t sure if you were able to get up in time to make something to eat for tonight.”
“That’s really nice. Thank you. It beats the bag of chips and fruit cup I have in my bag.”
The ride seemed to go quick as you talked about work, him about some funny cases that came in recently and you about some strange patients you saw.
- - -
Robby clocks that the two of you are walking in together and that you’re holding a container with Jack’s name on it.
During the handoff, as Robby is finishing up explaining what a shit show the day shift was, he glances towards the registration desk. “So what’s with you and sunshine over there?”
“Sunshine?”
“You know who I’m talking about. New girl. Patterned scrubs. Too young for you….”
“Fuck off Robby.”
“What? I’m just stating facts.”
Dana walks by and overhears. “What’s going on over here?”
Robby smirks. “Looks like Abbot has a thing for the new registration clerk.”
Dana looks over and sees you putting some festive window clings up. “I see the appeal. She’s sweet.” She points to Robby and says, “you could use someone like that too.”
Robby shakes his head. “Yeah, not happening. This one is all Abbot. He’s quite protective of her already.”
- - -
The shift comes to an end without Jack getting to interact with you. When he goes to grab his bag, he sees his Tupperware container with a post it note from you saying thanks. You drew a small smiley face on the note making Jack smile.
- - -
As the months went on, Jack would occasionally take you home when you stayed too late or worked a double (which he hated). He seemed to manage walking by your desk a couple of times per shift. Robby was right in that he was protective of you. He tried to make sure you ate something during your shift, either something you brought or something he packed for you. Jack found himself thinking about you more often, occasionally those thoughts led to him taking a cold shower. He doesn’t know that he had been the source of many day dreams you’ve had.
- - -
After shift one day, Jack invites you to the park across the street where several others staff members are heading to as well. He picks up your bag and carries it for you, while his hand is on your lower back. As you go to cross the street he checks to make sure it’s safe for you to cross.
When you check up to the others, Jack tells you sit down on the bench. He goes to the cooler and picks up a couple drinks and sits down right next to you. He’s so close that your thighs are touching. He puts his arm around the back of the bench and somehow seems to be even closer.
He leans in a little closer and says softly, “This okay? You comfortable?”
You nod and then to look at him. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Every now and then Jack will rub a circle on your shoulder or play with the strands of hair that had fallen down during your shift. You don’t want to move at all for fear that he’d stop touching you. No one seems to notice what is going on, for which you are thankful.
After Jack finishes his drink, he brings his lips to your ear. “Want me to take you home?”
“Yes, please.”
He takes your drink and his and throws them away, before grabbing your bag.
When you get to his vehicle he opens the passenger door for you. Once you get in and settled, he buckles you in and brushes a piece of hair away from your face. After he shuts the door, he opens the back door to put the bags in, before getting in the driver’s seat.
- - -
The drive to your apartment building seems to go quickly and terribly slow at the same time. Jack finds a parking spot right outside your front door. He turns the car off and turns to you. “Would you like me to come inside?”
You bite your lip and nod.
“Can you use your words sweetheart?”
God, that word coming out of his mouth makes your face heat up. “Do you want to come inside?”
Jack touches your face before he unbuckles and grabs your bag. He opens the passenger door just as you unbuckle your seatbelt.
You can’t tell if this is going to either be the best thing that has happened to you or the worst.
The moment you get into your apartment, the energy is electric. You feel like you’re breathing faster and your body feels warm. Jack sets your bag down on the table and turns to you.
“If I’m reading this wrong, let me know now.” He scans your face. “Do you want this?”
Keeping your eyes on him, you nod.
“Words, sweetheart.”
“I want this.” You whisper to him.
He places his hands on your face and kisses you. What starts out as something soft quickly turns heated as you let out a soft moan. Your hands come up to clutch his shirt. The kissing seems to deepen and the space between you is nonexistent.
You lead Jack to your bedroom. He takes a moment to look at you, kiss bitten lips and eyes blown wide. You take off your top and pants leaving you in your bra and underwear. “Beautiful.”
Jack takes his clothing off including his underwear leaving him bare. He steps closer to you and undoes your bra and pulling off your underwear. “Lay on the bed sweetheart. I want to see you underneath me.”
Jack climbs on the bed after you. He brushes some of the hair from your face and kisses you. You feel how hard he is and it makes you more wet.
Jack opens up your thighs and holds them apart giving each one a kiss. He works his way to your center and gives you a long lick.
“Jack!”
You’re shaking as he draws out your pleasure, rotating between his fingers and his tongue.
“Please. Jack.”
“What is it angel? Huh? Use your words.”
You squirm and he keeps you in place. “I want you inside me.”
Jack gives your clit one last kiss before he sits up and notches himself at your entrance. “Such a good girl using your words.” He doesn’t ease you into it as he bottoms out in one thrust.
He changes the angle of your hips and finds the spot that takes your breath away. “Where do you want me to cum sweetheart? Not gonna last long with you squeezing me like that.”
“In - Inside.”
“Fuck.” He drops his head to your shoulder. “You sure?”
“Yes. I’m - I’m on the pill.”
Jack’s grip on your hips and thighs tighten. “Baby. I need you to cum before me.” His pace is starting to get erratic. He takes two fingers and finds your clit rubbing tight circles. “Come on. Let go.”
You cry out his name as you cum. You think you hear Jack groan out the word fuck and your name but honestly your ears are ringing at the moment.
Jack rolls off you and onto his back. It takes a while for both of you to catch your breath. He pulls you closer and kisses the top of your head calling you his girl.
as reader and jack fall into the new routine of being roommates, reader struggles with the unexpected toll their coworker's opinions and speculation are placing on her.
burnt out, emotionally exhausted, and struggling daily to ignore/grapple with/confront/hide/completely deny her ever growing feelings for jack abbot, reader searches for an easier way to go about this whole living with your boss that you're low-key in love with thing.
contains: no use of y/n (etc), (f)reader is a fourth year resident, Jack Abbot is !downbad but also equally !repressingallemotion because of his !deadwife and !oldmaninsecurity, reader is oblivious and constantly denying her fat crush on Jack, reader is tired and stressed and overall needs a BREAK, angst stress tension comfort loveylove etc.
The first month of living in Jack’s house had flown by much quicker than you’d thought possible. Your opposing schedules and the fact that you hadn’t had corresponding days off over the past four weeks led to very little interaction in the house itself.
The hospital, on the other hand…yeah, the hospital had been a bit of a different story.
The shift change passing greetings that you had shared regularly had turned into something different all together.
Whispers from Princess and Perlah from behind the desk as you passed your roommate in the hub. Trinity smacking Dennis across the back repeatedly in what she thought was a covert attempt to draw attention to the completely casual conversation you were having with Jack as you walked out of the ED. Even Dana, who you were most disappointed in, kept throwing sly smirks over her glasses at any mention of your life outside of work.
So while you had been able to handle the actual living with part of this whole living with Abbot thing, it was starting to feel like every single external input being given on your situation was grating on you a bit more than you’d care to admit.
It came to a head at the start of the fifth week. A Tuesday night; you’d reached the end of your shift and wanted nothing more than to get home, eat dinner on the couch, and fall asleep cuddling with Roxie (who had taken to sleeping with you every night that Jack was working). You pulled on your coat, hoping it would be enough to war off the biting cold that had been setting in more each night as Pittsburgh entered October, and slipped through the growing crowd of nightshifters in the center of the ED.
Abbot and Dr. Robby were standing outside of trauma one with a few residents surrounding them, getting ready to start rounds. You were worn out from a week of warring off the rest of the Pitt staff’s demand to know every detail about your living arrangement, and didn’t feel inclined to add any fuel to the fire.
It seemed a bit dramatic, to let silly gossip bother you so much. But honestly, you’d been struggling. Long before the whole debacle with your apartment. You were so burnt out, often making it through each day feeling like you were at the frazzled end of a quickly burning rope. Your student loans, your residency, the every day toll of the Pitt… you had signed up for all of it, but it was piling on more heavily than you’d ever expected it to. You wanted to find more security, something to assure you that you were where you were meant to be. That your hard work was paying off toward something. When every day felt like an ongoing struggle, it seemed impossible to ever reach that stability. So- yes, you felt a bit sensitive to the extra annoyance of your coworker’s insinuating your living in Abbot’s guest room was anything more than just that.
As grateful as you were, and you were very, very grateful to Jack, it was getting a bit hard to navigate feeling like you were in an emergency department fish tank every morning and night. The rare moments that the two of you were both home at the same time were still much more than you’d been interacting with Jack Abbot a month ago. And it was doing nothing to quell the growing feelings that you could no longer even try to deny being a full blown crush.
The universe’s plans did not seem to align with your own that night. As you slipped past the group of doctors and reached the doors, a voice called your name and you stopped.
Abbot strode over to where you stood at the door and came to a stop.
“Hey. Just wanted to tell you I meal prepped today and put some leftovers in a container for you, if you want to heat them up for dinner. They’re in the fridge.” His eyes flickered over you a bit as he spoke and you wondered if he thought you looked as haggard as you felt. You wished that it didn’t send a soft rush of self consciousness through your chest.
“Oh. Thank you.” You reply quietly. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get you to take food, but every time it just made you feel too guilty to accept knowing you were already staying with him for free. When you trailed off into silence, you realized his gaze was a bit concerned as it leveled on your face. Did you really look that shitty? You knew your hair needed a wash, but you’d just gotten off a twelve hour shift after all.
Your thoughts are cut off quickly by another voice, a quick passing comment as Langdon passed you on his own way out.
“Wish I was getting the special Abbot treatment, save some dinner for me next time man!”
The words clatter around your head much more dramatically than they should, you knew Frank was just joking. It didn’t matter. You were exhausted, and annoyed, and felt a burning flush creeping across your neck and cheeks. Special treatment.
As if dumping invisible salt in the wound, Robby’s loud voice then carried from across the room.
“We’re ready to round if you two could wrap up the sweet nothings, please!”
You choke on air, your shallow embarrassment welling up into hot tears pressing at the back of your eyes as a few residents turned to look at you and Abbot and Robby gestured a bit impatiently for his fellow attending to get back to work.
You turn on your heel and shove harshly against the door before Jack can even look back at you, all but fleeing into the waiting room and out the doors into the cold evening air.
You were embarrassed, embarrassed that everyone felt the need to examine your completely professional relationship with Dr. Abbot and embarrassed that you had just been publicly called out on the supposed special treatment people seemed to believe you were receiving and embarrassed that stupid Robby and snippy attitude had really driven the humiliation home.
A few tears slipped down your cheeks as you made the quick walk home, and you told yourself they were just from exhaustion. Only when you’d locked the door behind you and kicked off your shoes next to the rack in the entryway did you stop for a moment to breathe.
It didn’t matter, it shouldn't matter so much to you what others had to say or think. In fact, you knew that the reality was people just wanted something to gossip about. No one you worked with truly cared that you were living with Abbot, at least no one who’s opinion you cared about. It wasn’t even the gossip that bothered you. It was feeling like you’d been under a magnifying glass, every crack and chip on display.
You were so burnt out it was starting to wear on you in ways that couldn’t be hidden. You rarely had more than a protein bar and way too much caffeine until you got off shift each night, and even then you’d been falling asleep before mustering the energy to fix dinner some nights. Just today you’d gone in and done the same patient’s intake twice, it had taken you nearly five minutes to even notice.
Now, trying with every passing touch and soft check in and offer to eat his food in his house that he paid for to pretend that you weren’t falling into something dangerously close to love with Jack Abbot was another stone on the pile of things stressing you the fuck out.
Roxie came bounding down the hall and circled you a few times, tail wagging. You simply collapsed to sit on the floor, petting her affectionately as she showered you with excited kisses.
“Hey pretty girl.” You whispered, sniffing your slightly stuffy nose and wiping a last stray tear from the corner of your eye.
Roxie knocked your bag as she plopped down in your lap and a few things spilled out, including your phone. When you retrieved it, other hand still scratching her ears, it lit up to display an array of messages you’d received on your commute.
A missed call from Jack, followed by three messages.
You okay?I’m sorry about Robby. He’s a dick. I’ll talk to him.
Pls eat the chicken at least ok
You dropped your head back and let out a long sigh.
You wake the next morning when Roxie jumps suddenly out of bed, where she’d been curled over your feet, and bounded down the stairs at the sound of Jack entering.
You sleepily registered the jingle of his keys as he dropped them on the table, his whispered greetings to his dog, his footsteps fading down the hall toward the kitchen.
You bask for a moment in the knowledge that you have the day off and can fall back asleep, and do just that.
About two hours later, you wake naturally and roll over to grab your phone.
You’d never replied to Jack’s messages last night, half forgetting after you’d showered and gotten straight into bed, and half refusing to acknowledge the situation altogether. You were immediately reminded of this when a new message from him shows in your notification bar, and you open it. 7:32 am.
Choosing to believe you ate something else less delicious and nutritious than my chicken for dinner and you don’t hate me and my cooking
A quiet snort escapes you in the silence of your room. Jack still sometimes caught you off guard with how silly he could be, a side of the man you’d only seen glimpses of in the hospital.
Your amusement, against your will, quickly fades to a warm feeling in your stomach at the realization that he noticed you hadn’t eaten his food, cared enough to text you about it when he got home.
You slammed your face into your pillow and let out a muffled groan of frustration at your own stupid heart and how easily it fluttered for Jack Abbot.
You’re pulling a loaf and muffin pan of banana bread out of the oven when Jack emerges from his room that afternoon. The man rarely adhered to what you would call a stable sleep schedule, so when he did come home and get some rest after his shifts you were pleased. Not that it was any of your business. You were just a caring roommate was all.
“Something smells delicious.”
Your hands stutter at the sound of Jack’s gruff, still sleepy voice, and the muffin pan bangs a bit too harshly against the counter as you set it down.
“Yay.” You reply as you whirl toward him, then gesture behind you. “Banana bread. And muffins. I bought a lot of bananas last week and didn’t eat any of them. So.” You explain.
Jack is getting closer and closer as he enters the kitchen and you wonder what the least obvious method of fleeing would be. Thankfully, he stops at the fridge and begins filling a glass of water, giving you the chance to put the hot pads back in their drawer and circle around to the opposite side of his kitchen island. A healthy distance. For normal healthy coworker roommate friend acquaintances.
“Are you okay?”
Cutting right to the chase then.
“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” You nod, voice breathy.
“Because you looked like shit last night and everyone was being rude to you.” Jack replies, blunt and matter of fact. You decided that the candor you’d always admired in him was now your least favorite quality. “And you didn’t reply to any of my texts.” He adds, that part added with a bit less conviction and confidence, and you notice. It makes you smile a bit inside, that he cares.
“I’m fine.” You repeat, wishing the conversation down any other path but this one. You pick at the sleeve of your sweatshirt and avoid Jack’s gaze, but you know he’s staring you down in that steady, studying way of his. Like he’s trying to figure something out about you that you don’t even know yet.
“Hmm.” He hums eventually. You wonder what exactly that means, but more so hope he’s moving on. He doesn’t speak again for a few more moments, but you meet his gaze when he does at last. “Did you eat last night?” You see it in his eyes, he already knows the answer. There’s something else there, something searching as he watches you.
“No, I fell asleep right away. It wasn’t a personal slight against your chicken.” You joke, hoping to lighten the odd tension you’re feeling with reference to his more humorous text.
“Hmm.” Again. “Okay. Well, I made plenty, have it this week.” He turns now, reaching for a mug from the cabinet.
“Oh no, it’s okay. Thank you so much though. That’s really nice.” You wave a hand in dismissal, as you have every time Jack has tried to get you to eat food he’s made. You notice him still a bit, hand bringing the coffee mug down and bracing against the counter momentarily before turning to you. That steady gaze again, it makes you want to put up some sort of shield to keep him from crawling into your mind and seeing everything you’ve been trying to keep from him.
“Okay.” He says softly. You smile in return, he doesn’t. You rub a nervous hand against your leg and decide that you really need to do laundry, right now. Before exiting the kitchen, you gesture to the stove where the banana bread is cooling.
“Help yourself to the banana bread, okay!” You muster a smile much brighter than you’re feeling. “The muffins have chocolate chips.”
With that, you slip out of the room and upstairs to busy yourself with the pile of dirty clothes in your hamper. You don’t see the frown that deepens on Jack’s face as his eyes dart from the place you were just standing to the baked goods on his stove.
You continue on in successful denial that you are quickly fraying at the seams for the next week. Talk, as expected, dies down surrounding you and Abbot and it quickly fades into just another norm of your dysfunctional workplace.
You wake up, you make it through your shifts, you are the best doctor you can possibly be. You pass Jack at shift change like a well adjusted adult and pretend your stomach doesn’t do somersaults every time you briefly touch or he leans in to talk softly to you. You come and go from the house and you continue insisting he doesn’t need to feed you or do anything else for that matter, because he’s already done more than enough. He continues trying.
You both continue falling into lives that become more and more normal routine, quick texts about feeding Roxie and if you should take the trash bin out or not and hearing the jingle of Jack’s keys when he gets home early in the morning.
You both continue acting like this is completely normal.
“Come on, please! Please please please please plea-”
“Wow, please stop right now.” You cut Trinity off with a sigh, spinning in your chair to face her.
“It’s Halloween. We have to do something fun.” She whines, and you let out a defeated sigh as Victoria comes up beside her.
“Wait, you’re coming out with us? Yay!” The girl grins, looking between you and Trinity.
You huff again, and spin back to finish up your last chart for the night. Trinity had been trying to get you to agree to going out to the karaoke bar with them all shift. It wasn’t even actually Halloween, which was actually on Monday, but it was a Friday night and a handful of the younger Pitt staff had managed to get the next day off. You were not one of those lucky few, and you certainly weren’t in any rush to go out to a karaoke bar.
“Okay. It’s not Halloween, and I did not agree to that. My going out and having fun after work days are behind me. I’m an old woman now.”
Both girls groan and boo in response, and to their credit they are being very pushy and persuasive.
“BOO!” Trinity nearly shouts. “I see you’ve been spending too much time with Dr. Geriatric.”
It’s an offhanded comment, one that doesn’t even hint at anything untoward between you and Jack, certainly one of the most tame comments about you and your roommate that you'd heard over the past two months- but it rubs you just the wrong way.
You had been spending all of your time either working or at home, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d done something social. And... and Jack had tonight off, an anxious thought that had been gnawing at the back of your mind all day. Every time you two actually shared extended time in the house together, it was as if you could physically feel your control slipping under his drawn out gazes and caring questions and innocently brushing past you in the hall.
It certainly would be a bit of a relief to not have to play the role of totally normal girl who doesn't have a raging crush on her boss and roommate for an evening.
“Fine.” You hear yourself saying as you stand from the computer. “I’ll go.”
You retreat from the nurses’ station to subdued cheers from Trinity and Victoria trailing after you.
This was exactly what you needed. A fun night out. You let out a shaky breath and repeat the thought like a mantra that you need to convince yourself of.
a/n: HEYYY :) can you guys tell that i barely even attempt to edit these be honest (JK DO NOT BE HONEST. LIE AND SAY IT'S PERFECT)
a bit shortie because the next part will be a double wammie of both reader's and...that's right...u guessed it...JACK'S POV AYYYYY can you tell i'm excited
anyway thank you as always to everyone who takes the time to read and comment etc etc it truly makes my day everyday. love u all and let me know what u think :))
Dear The Pitt creators (mostly thinking about visual artists, but also SMAU writers, etc)
I know that because the people in charge of this site went full Puritan, the instinct is to go to Twitter with your NSFW material (or any that you're worried might get flagged since they have a hair trigger)
I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU TO STOP MAKING US GO TO TWITTER TO SEE YOUR WORK
Ao3 is very literally RIGHT THERE
yes you have to host the images elsewhere, but that's stupid easy using discord or a million other options, plus the benefit of not making an evil man's website profitable
PLUS the benefit of not exposing yourself and the fans of your work to the toxic propaganda that is rampant there
so so so many false statements, easily disproven, about multiple actors from our show said as fact thousands of times a day there
like literally I've all but left my discord because I couldn't take the stress of someone coming in every single day with a new just banana pants racist "fact" and having to walk them through fact checking like we all didn't know how to do this a few short years ago, like this hasn't always been our responsibility as members of a society
for example
" Noah Wyle gave Israel money for bombs!"
• where did you hear this (Twitter)
• what evidence was given (literally none)
• what evidence, articles, anything can you find on your own (again literally none)
• does that even hold up to basic scrutiny (considering the cost, that man not being Elon Musk rich, or the fact that we've never heard of any private citizens doing this? no. no it does not)
NO ONE IS IMMUNE TO PROPAGANDA
That's kind of why it's such a fucking popular tool to control people? Hello? Please?
Just being exposed to it is enough to warp you, again this is why it was and is effective just as ads in newspapers or billboards etc. It works on everyone, you are not the special exception, no one is the special exception.
Please just use AO3, or idk a site not run by a paedophiIe Naz¡ who has everything riding on making you hate both Palestinians and the entire Jewish diaspora (fvck Z¡on¡sts though obviously) and generally becoming more hateful since that's how that algorithm is designed, to feed of off hostile engagement. literally this is what you are using
DM me if you need help transitioning over to a different site! I'd love to help!
This long stupid post brought to you by my peeking at Twitter for three seconds to see NSFW art and immediately going tachycardic and taking 15 years off my life expectancy from the unfiltered evil contained there.
also
and idk where to put this but
people need to stay 50 metres back from where the line denoting bullying Fiona Dourif (Cassie) is, that woman survived hell with Max Landis and if you treat her like shit I hope she leaves I hope she burns this show I love to the ground because we will deserve it.
Okay my pittlings. This is the first fanfic I’ve written, but I am well read. I don’t have an AO3 account yet so I’m testing the waters on my writing skills and posting chapter one here. Please tell me if I should continue or throw it in the trash. Or just how I can improve. I’m just a nurse obsessed with the PITT and Whitaker, don’t worry my husband already knows he’s my new obsession. I also don’t actually work in the ER, (yet! I have applied, not because of the show though. Don’t get it twisted.) but I do work in Orthopedic Trauma and float to the ER occasionally. Anyways enjoy my story more characters will come along in the shift if you like it. Much love *mauh*. This is also a Whitaker x OC, but more people may get thrown into the mix, *cough* Jackie Poo.
Masterlist <---- Next Chapters Here :)
Chapter 1: Right Place, Right Time
Kristina Larsen a 26 year old ER nurse with 3 years of experience from a small town in South Dakota moves to Pittsburgh to start a new life. Little did she know that when she entered Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center’s ER there would be more chaos than shes used to in the emergency room. She may be finding herself breaking the rule she engrained into herself since graduating nursing school again. Never date the four P’s as a nurse: Police, Paramedics, Physicians, and (P)firefighters.
0600 May 5th, 2026
My alarm goes off blaring into my skull. I shoot up and confused by my surroundings. As the sleepy haze evaporates I come to a realization. I’m in my new apartment, boxes scattered around not fully unpacked and if I don’t get up now I am going to be late to my shift. I slowly rise out of bed yawning. I grab my scrubs from the box they’re packed in and walk to the bathroom. I stare at my face in the mirror for a few seconds. My light brown eyes staring back at me taking in my messy golden brown hair, freckles, dark circles under my eyes and somewhat thin lips. I sigh looking at the plain reflection staring back at me and begin to brush my teeth. After throwing my hair in a low but messy bun, I apply some concealer and mascara in attempts to make myself seem more awake but ultimately failing.
I walk into my kitchen making myself a cup of coffee and throwing a Red Bull in my bag. I look at my phone 0630. I grab a jacket, my badge, my bag and my coffee and I am running out the door to my car. Thankfully the drive is only 15 minutes to the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center and I pull into the assigned parking lot at 0645. I stare a head at the hospital and pray that I do not make a fool of myself as the newbie. I grab my things and walk through the ER doors taking note of how many people are already sitting in the waiting room impatiently. A woman named Lupe looks at me through the glass window and smiles. “Ah newbie, we always need more nurses around here. I let you in, go find Dana she’ll help get you settled.” The door opens I tell her thank you and walk through the doors. I take a minute to take in my surroundings, the beeping of heart monitors, stretcher carts, and small talk around the nurses station directly in the middle of the unit.
It’s 0655 I walk up to the nurses station a women with blonde hair and glasses looks up at me. She slides her glasses down and looks me over, “Fresh meat, perfect we were running out. The names Dana. I’m the charge nurse, this place doesn’t run without me. I’m guessing you’re Kristina huh.” “Yes ma’am” I say still looking around. “Well follow me, I’ll show you around.” Dana says. Dana gives me tour showing me the tramua rooms, pediatric rooms, supply rooms, the Pyxis and lastly the break room. “Your badge should get you in about anywhere but if there’s a code it's 5, 9 and 4. Welcome to the Pitt. Handoff should be taking place soon.” I shrug off my bag, throw my red bull into the fridge and follow Dana out to the nurses station. Dana introduces the other nurses. “Alright people this is Kristina the fresh meat, Kristina this is Mateo, Jesse, Princess, Perlah, and Donnie. Donnie ditched his nursing license to become a NP.” Everyone says hello and the chaos starts. Since I have experience as an ER nurse I’m just kind of thrown into the mix.
I check my watch, 0800.
I have seen 4 patients so far; chest pain (turns out it was just heartburn), hypotension from mistaking their beta blockers, a kid needing stitches and a wrist fracture that was splinted and sent on their way. I have mostly worked with Dr. Cassie McKay at this point since we’ve been assigned to the same room. I have efficiently completed the orders Dr. McKay gives. I am quiet and efficient, trying not to get into anyone’s way. Dr. McKay finally says, “You know you’re allowed to talk right?” I laugh and say, “Sorry I am more focused on trying not to make a fool of myself on my first day. I’m Kristina the new nurse.” Dr. McKay smiles.
Dana yells over head “Trauma 10 minutes out. Motor vehicle accident, ejected from car.” The entire emergency department shifts instantly into motion. Nurses grabbing supplies, respiratory wheeling equipment into the trauma bay, a resident flipping through a quick checklist.
I hurry down the hallway toward the ambulance entrance, already pulling the isolation gown around my shoulder while walking. The plastic crinkles as I try and tie the strings behind my back, balancing a pair of gloves and my stethoscope in one hand. “Why do they make these things impossible to tie-“ I mutter under my breath.
The bay doors swing open again and a gust of cool spring air rushes in from outside. The wail of an ambulance siren grows louder as it backs towards the doors. I step forward quickly, still wrestling with the gown strings. And promptly trip over the edge of the trauma mat, balance tilts forward. For a split second I think, This is it, I’m about to face plant in front of the entire trauma team.
But suddenly two hands grab my arms firmly, steadying me before I fall. Strong. Fast. I collide lightly into someone’s chest instead. “Woah, easy there.” The voice is calm, slightly amused. I look up at the person the voice came from. Messy brown hair, tired but sharp blue eyes, and the faintest hint of a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So sorry,” I say quickly, pushing myself upright. “These gowns are basically an OSHA violation.” “I mean, you did try to tie it while sprinting,” he says. I huff a quiet laugh, turning around and attempting to tie the strings again.
A second later I feel fingers tug the ties neatly together at my back. “There,” he says as I turn back around to face him, “I’m Dennis Whitaker. First year resident. Who are you?” I look up at him smiling, “Kristina. I’m a nurse, first day at the PITT. Thank you from saving me from impending doom.” “Part the job,” he replies casually. He’s really cute in a sort of dorky kind of way, I think.
The ambulance doors slam outside. Paramedics are already shouting report. “ Twenty-six year old male, high speed MVC, ejected from vehicle due to seat belt malfunction. GCS 6, intubated in the field, possible internal injury, hypotensive in route. 100 mcg of fentanly and 500ml bolus of NS.” The moment between Whitaker and I snaps away as the team rushes forward. Whitaker steps beside me, pulling on gloves. “Try not to fall during the trauma,” he murmurs quietly. I shoot him a sideways look. “No promises” The gurney bursts through the doors and the room explodes into organized chaos. But for a brief moment as we both move towards the patient, Whitaker glances at me again. And there’s definitely a hint of a smile.
Jesse yells “BP 82/50, HR 138.” A doctor I haven’t met yet yells, “Pupil reactive but sluggish, would somebody cut those fucking clothes off him.” I run up cutting of the patient’s clothes with my surgical shears and do an exam of his abdomen. “Abdominal tenderness, patient is increasingly pale, tachycardia increasing to 160, BP now 74/45.” Dr. Whitaker runs the FAST ultrasound, “free fluid in the abdomen, start the massive transfusion protocol, start albumin and a liter bolus of NS.” I slip in another 18 gauge in the patient’s forearm before he’s even done with his sentence. “18 gauge right forearm, drawing a rainbow set and type and screen send those down STAT,” I yell right as Whitaker finished talking. “Someone get surgery down here to book an OR, he’s stable for now,” says an older doctor with a beard. He is giving off attending vibes, that must be Dr. Rabinovich, I think which glancing up from where I was setting up the IV tubing for the bolus.
The trauma bay is finally quiet again. The chaos from the MVC has faded, leaving behind the familiar aftermath- wrappers from IV kits, empty saline bags hanging from poles, and the faint metallic smell of blood is in the air. Jessie and I stand at the counter finishing the last of the cleaning. “Alright,” Jesse says, scrolling through the chart. “Massive transfusion protocol is done. Let’s verify this last unit.” I nod, grabbing the blood bag from the cooler and holding it up under the fluorescent lights.
“Unit number W47291,” I read. Jesse checks the number on the chart. “Matches” We both go through the process automatically, like it’s muscle memory. “Name?” I read it back to him. “DOB?” I confirm it. “Blood type?” Jesse asks. “O neg,” I reply. “Expiration Date?” “May 5th, 2026 2359.” I tell him. “Ordering provider?” “Dr. Whitaker,” I say while reading the label on the bag. Jesse nods and co-signs on computer before heading to the door. “I’m going to run this to the lab and grab more tubing,” he says. “Don’t disappear on me.” “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply dryly wiping the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. He snorts and disappears down the hallway.
The trauma bay goes quiet again. I start organizing the counter, stacking syringes, and tossing wrappers in the trash. I don’t even notice someone has stepped back into the room until I feel the shift of the air behind me. Then a voice. Low. Close. “Pretty impressive back there.” I turn slightly, startled to find Dennis Whitaker standing just behind me. I hadn’t even heard him come back in. He leans casually beside me, arms crossed and gloves shoved into pocket. I shrug lightly, trying to play it off.
“Just doing my job.” Whitaker studies me for a moment. “You caught the pressure drop before anyone else did,” he says. “And you were already pulling labs before I could even ask for them. It’s only your first day in the PITT and you’re already anticipating the next move.” He notices me busying my hand with the supply drawer. “Lucky guess.” He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh. “ Yeah, sure.” I reach up to adjust the collar of my gown and feel the plastic crinkle under my fingers.
Then Whitaker steps a little closer. Close enough I can feel his presence beside me. His voice drops, softer now, near my ear. “Good thing you’re better at catching a change in patient status…” I pause staring at my hands. “… than catching yourself when you fall.” His breath brushes lightly against my ear when he says it. I immediately feel my cheeks warm. I turn my head slightly to glare at him, but the corner of his mouth is already tugging into a crooked smile. “Oh my god,” I huff. “You’re never going to let that go are you.” Whitaker pushes up off the counter. “Absolutely not.” He starts towards the door, then glances back. “And for the record,” he adds casually throwing his arms up, “I glad I caught you. Can’t have the pretty nurse getting a concussion now can we?” Then he disappears down the hallway before I can even come up with a response.
I have been here 2 hours, only officially met two doctors and I already have been embarrassed by a cute resident. I let out a dramatic sigh, continuing to clean up the room. I wonder how the rest of the shift will go.
I’ve been lowkey obsessed with The Pitt recently, so I decided to try my hand at some fanfic. Loosely inspired by the scene in Titanic where Rose and Jack first meet and the Gilmore Girls episode of this same title. Hope you enjoy!
Warnings: Mentions of suicide and self-harm
The Fourth of July shift had been brutal. Holiday shifts always were, but today felt even heavier than usual. An abandoned baby, a man who drank himself to death trying to outrun sorrow, a mom dying of cancer, a coworker dragged out in cuffs for trying to keep a patient safe. But truthfully, none of those things bothered you more than the look on your attending’s face as Dr. Al-Hashimi questioned the mother of the pediatric heatstroke.
“Have you ever thought about hurting yourself?”
It was a standard question for the situation, but Robby’s eyes belied something far more personal. It was enough to make bile rise in your throat. You’d watched him all day: the short temper, the clipped words, the way he’d disappear for a few minutes only to come back looking like he’d aged another year.
You knew the others were concerned too. You’d heard Ahmad comment on his lack of helmet when he arrived that morning. More than once, Dana had pulled him aside with that tight, frustrated look on her face. Abbott had spoken to him quietly, serious in the way only he could be. Even Whitaker explained the housesitting situation to Santos in an uneasy tone. They all saw it. They circled the drain of worry, offering careful words about the upcoming trip, about resting, about checking in. No one ever came right out and named the fear sitting in their chest.
You couldn’t keep dancing around it anymore.
You’d spent years keeping your feelings locked down, strictly professional. Robby was the attending who’d guided you through the worst cases, who remembered the little things that got you through impossible days. Whatever else you might have felt for him—you’d buried it. He was your superior. He carried enough already. You told yourself he wouldn’t want anything more from you anyway. It was easier that way.
But, tonight, you feared easy might lead to something you couldn’t live with.
You found him in the rarely used on-call room at the end of the east hall. The door was cracked. You pushed it open without knocking.
Robby sat on the edge of the sagging bunk, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His scrub top was untucked, stethoscope still looped around his neck like he’d forgotten it was there. The buzzing overhead light cast harsh shadows across his face.
He didn’t look up. “Shift’s over. Go home.”
You stepped inside and closed the door behind you. The click sounded too final in the small space.
“I’m not here as a coworker,” you said, voice low but steady even as your heart hammered. “I’m here because I’ve been watching you. Everyone’s worried, Robby. Dana, Abbott, Whitaker — they’re all concerned.”
He let out a tired breath and finally lifted his head. The hollow exhaustion in his eyes twisted something deep in your chest.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’ve heard them.”
You moved closer, stopping right in front of him so he had to tilt his head back to meet your gaze.
“Robby.” You swallowed once, then said it plain and unsoftened: “Are you thinking about killing yourself?”
The question dropped into the quiet like a stone.
His face went utterly still. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again.
“I— what?” The words came out rough, almost strangled. “You can’t just… ask me that.”
He moved like he was trying to stand, but his legs didn’t quite hold. He sank back onto the bunk, one hand gripping the thin mattress like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
His breathing hitched. Those steady eyes that had walked you through countless traumas now shimmered with unshed tears. He blinked hard, but one slipped free anyway, tracing down his cheek.
“You’re serious,” he whispered, voice cracking.
You held his gaze, refusing to look away. “Someone had to be.”
Robby pressed the heel of his hands hard against his eyes, like he could physically keep himself from falling apart. A choked sound escaped anyway, half laugh, half sob.
“Jesus Christ.” His shoulders curled inward as the first real crack showed. “Nobody… nobody just says it.”
He looked up at you again, something painfully close to relief warring across his face. Another tear slipped free. He didn’t wipe it away.
“I keep thinking how easy it would be to just… not come back,” he admitted, barely above a whisper. “Not a plan. Not like that. Just riding until it ends quiet. No more shifts. No more families screaming in the waiting room. No more carrying everything.” He shook his head, voice fracturing. “I’m not— I don’t know if I’m— fuck.”
You didn’t answer with words. You simply moved forward and sank to your knees on the cold linoleum so you were eye-level with him. Gently, you placed your hands over his where they now rested on his knees.
That was all it took.
He broke fully then—a raw, shuddering sob tearing from his chest as he fell forward into you. You caught him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he buried his face against your neck. His whole body trembled with the force of it, years of carrying the weight finally spilling out in the dim, buzzing room. You held him there on the floor, one hand stroking the back of his head, the other pressed firmly between his shoulder blades.
You stayed like that for a long time before his uneven breaths began to slowly even out against your skin.
Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes red-rimmed and raw. His voice was hoarse and when he spoke, the words kept catching between hiccups. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” you said softly, your hands still resting on his arms.
You let the silence settle. Waiting for him to make the next move.
He swallowed hard, searching your face. “Well… where do we go from here?”
You hesitated. The protocol was clear. Call a 302, monitor for 72 hours, admit for in-patient treatment if needed, and wait for a bed in psych. In other words, alert the entire department that their respected leader was slipping. He’d be stuck in his own ED, with people he trained and worked with asking him the questions he had taught them how to ask. They’d all be worried. They’d all wish him well and mean it. But there would be no coming back from that. Not really. You sighed as you considered it all.
“Against every professional standard we have, I’m not calling in a psych hold. I don’t want this turning into a spectacle for the whole department.”
Robby let out a dejected sort of laugh that cracked at the edges. “I think I’ve already been making a spectacle all day with the outbursts anyway.”
A small, tired smile tugged at your lips. “Tell you what, I have the next three days off. You can come to my place or we can go to yours, doesn’t matter. But I’ll stay with you. You can get some real rest, and then we can come up with a plan. If you want, I can even come in with you to talk to Caleb again. We’ll sort through it, and you won’t be alone.”
He considered it for a minute before letting out a weak agreement. Then he hesitated, glancing toward the door. “I don’t really wanna face anyone right now.”
“I’ll handle it,” you said without missing a beat. “Wait here, and I’ll go get your stuff. We can head out the back.”
You slipped out of the on-call room, moving quickly and quietly through the halls to gather both your things and his—jackets, bags, keys, the helmet he didn’t use—without drawing attention. The distant sounds of the department filtered through: monitors beeping, voices calling for labs, the low hum of another night that wouldn’t slow down.
When you returned, he was still sitting there, looking smaller than you’d ever seen him. You handed him his jacket and bag, and together you moved through the back corridors, toward a side exit. You’re almost there when he slows with realization.
“My bike…” he says. You understand. Leaving the bike would be kind of a dead giveaway that something was wrong.
“We can sneak back around the front and get it if you feel comfortable,” you reassured him. “I’ll just leave my car here. Driving through all the Fourth stuff would probably be a bitch anyway. ”
He stared at you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across his face. “You’re trusting me to drive to after…” He didn’t have to finish.
You met his eyes steadily. “You may be reckless with your own life right now, Robinavitch, but I know you wouldn’t risk anyone else’s, including mine.”
Robby just looked at you like he couldn’t quite believe this was all real—his expression raw, disbelieving, almost fragile. “That’s… a lot of faith in me.”
“It’s well-placed faith,” you said quietly but surely.
The walk around to the front was short and silent. His motorcycle waited under the lights. Robby held out the helmet to you.
You shook your head. “No. You wear it.”
He gave you an incredulous look, the kind that said ‘are you kidding me right now?’
You offered a small smile in return. “Surely you aren’t going to try and sell me on the importance of motorcycle safety given the situation.”
He actually laughed at that—the first real one you’d heard from him in what felt like forever. It was rough around the edges, a little cracked, but genuine. Had it been anyone else, you wouldn’t have dared joke about any of this. But this was Robby. Your Robby (even if he didn’t know it yet). And, after the raw, heavy confrontation in that room, you knew a sliver of levity was exactly what he needed.
You took it and clipped it onto your backpack. As Robby kickstarted the Triumph.
“You ever seen Titanic?” You ask as you slide your arms around his middle.
“Yeah…” He glanced over his shoulder at you, clearly trying to figure out where you were going with that question.
“You jump, I jump, Jack.”
Robby went still for a beat, the words washing over him like a quiet anchor in the chaos. Then he revved the bike, and together you pulled away from PTMC, the warm summer night blurring past as fireworks flickered in the distant sky.
