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ꕤ Jack Abbot x F!Reader
ꕤ 5.7k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: angst; extreme angst for a while there; fear for partner's safety; anxiety; sadness; extreme grief; extreme anxiety; bar shooting; gunshots; bullets; blood; MCI; death; panic; relief; vomitting; best friend!Robby; broken arm; reference to blood donation; no y/n.
ꕤ Summary: Halloween night almost destroys everything.
ꕤ AN: WE MADE IT. BARELY. BUT WE DID. I wrote this in a solid six hours so who knows how it is!!!! I'm just proud of myself for getting all 13 done on time. 😂 Originally this was supposed to be a threesome with Jack and Robby involving a little cnc and halloween appropriate masks but time ran out lol. I can get out angst much quicker so here we are. I feel like this one might be a little intense there for a moment, maybe, but I don't even know at this point. Thank you all so, so, so much for all of your support over this Kink/Angstober challenge I gave myself. According to my calculations we clocked in at 60,595 words over these last 13 days! I promise to respond to the last couple of days comments tomorrow! I hope this last day is enjoyable and okay and thank you so much for reading! ♥️
Jack hates that it's halloween and he's walking into the Pitt for his usual night shift and isn’t with you.
It's your first halloween as a married couple. You're four days shy of being married for six months. Once you got back from your honeymoon you guys found a house and bought it. It took a while, but a couple of weeks ago you finally got completely unpacked and felt settled and moved in and it finally feels like your together home.
He knows it's kind of silly that he wants to spend all the major holidays with you during your first year of marriage, but he just does. You find it adorable and were bummed for and with him when he realized he had to work halloween.
And not just any halloween. This year, halloween falls on a full moon. The two get crazy and bizarre enough on their own and Jack can't even imagine what tonight's shift is going to look like. A lot of werewolves and werewolf injuries, he supposes.
The Pitt is already teeming with interesting characters as Jack walks in. He catches a glimpse of Robby while going to put his backpack in his locker and the man looks like he's been run ragged today. Jack sighs heavily to himself, knowing it's only going to get worse now that the sun has set for the day.
His mind wonders to you. He could be out with you right now. He should be out with you right now. You're going to the halloween party at your and Jack's favorite bar, Zero's, with some friends, including a few people from the Pitt you've gotten close with over the three and a half or so years you've been with Jack, despite not working at the Pitt.
He sends you a quick text to tell you he made it to work safely and to have fun and be safe tonight and that he loves you. You reply quickly saying you will and include two pictures of you in your angel costume followed by an I love you too.
Jack groans quietly to himself at the photos of you. In the first you look beautiful and adorable, in the second you look like a fucking sex kitten, have rearranged and pulled down and up certain parts of your costume, are begging him with your eyes to fuck you. He knows that look is just for him, your eyes and the costume altered like that, that you sent the photo just to tease and please him.
"Come do handoff before we both get sucked into something," Robby tells Jack as he walks up, grabbing Jack's arm and pulling him toward the hub.
"That bad, huh?" Jack smirks, shooting back a reply to you saying how adorable and how fucking hot and sexy you look and jokingly asking if you can keep the outfit on as it appears in the second photo for when he gets home in the morning. Once he's hit send, he puts his phone in one of his pockets and focuses back on Robby, listening to Robby vent about the day and then handing off with him.
The next four hours of orchestrated chaos and absolute ridiculousness speed by. Jack was right about the werewolves and werewolf injuries. He hasn't had a chance to sit or have a sip of a drink or pee or look at his phone.
He's already shaking his head as Lena approaches him knowing he doesn't have time but will have to make it. He stops and his brows furrow as Lena gets closer, his stomach dropping at the look on her face.
"Jack," there's a touch of fear in her eyes despite how calm and confident her voice is. "There's an active shooter at a halloween party, it's an MCI."
He stares in shock for two seconds. "Fuck," he breathes, all his personal feelings about this happening less than two months after PittFest getting shoved aside for now. He has to lead and be a doctor right now, has to be there for everyone else and keep everything and everyone together through this. "Call it, get the protocol going. Clear everyone, move all patients upstairs, get the bins. I'll gather everyone."
"Okay," she nods at him.
They both turn to go their separate ways before Jack stops. "Lena," he calls to her. She turns and looks back at him. "Where?" He wants to know because how he approaches this for a children's halloween party and mostly pediatric patients is going to be far different from an adult halloween party. He also wants to gauge how much alcohol and potential drug use they might be looking at.
"Zero's."
Jack freezes, head spinning, his heart and stomach falling, blood turning to ice in his veins.
"Jack?" Lena walks over to him, puts a hand on his arm. "You okay? I know it hasn't been long since PittFest…"
Jack shakes his head. "She's there." He sounds as dazed as he feels. "She went to the halloween party there with some friends." His breathing picks up a little and he shakes slightly with how much adrenaline has been dumped into his system all at once. "I have to go. I have to get to her."
"Jack," Lena says as gently as possible, stepping in front of him and holding both of his arms now. "You can't. They won't let you get anywhere close to the bar. She needs you here in case she shows up, there's nothing you can do for her there."
Jack's eyes find hers, and the eye contact and her hands on his arms are enough to snap him back into senior attending and MCI mode. "Yeah," he nods. "Let's go."
He steps away and goes to round up everyone and start getting supplies and equipment in order. As he walks all Jack can think about is how you're dressed as an angel and how the universe has the perfect opportunity to be perverse and hateful and so fucking unfair. If you become an angel Jack will burn everything down, he decides. The entire fucking world. If the shooter is still alive Jack will find them and kill them with his bare fucking hands before he probably joins you because he doesn't want to live a life without you.
A part of him wants to be hopeful but he's been burned by the universe before and he sees how fucked up it can be, what it has no qualms about doing to people every single shift he works. Jack has to shove it all away and remind himself that there’s no point in trying to get to you, the police will have streets closed in a half mile radius around the place.
He pulls his phone out and has a text from you letting him know you got to the bar safely. It feels taunting somehow, not by you but by the universe. He tries calling you and gets nothing, leaves you a couple of voicemails and shoots off several texts saying to call him and asking if you're okay and saying he loves you. And then he has to dissociate enough to get back to work.
As he's speaking to everyone at the hub while the ED gets cleared, Robby and Dana walk in. Jack is so fucking glad to see them, from a needing all the hands he can get perspective and, especially with Robby, from a personal perspective.
When primary roles are assigned and assignments on who will be where given, Robby pulls Jack to the side, evidently able to tell something is up. "What-"
"She's there," Jack rushes out before he even has to finish the question. "She's there, at the, at the fucking bar. She's there, Michael."
"Oh fuck." Robby's face drops. "You haven't heard from her?"
Jack shakes his head, lets it all come back to the forefront of his mind and lowers the walls he's constructed. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes to try to stop the tears. "I can't Robby, I can't lose her," he forces from between his teeth, trying so hard to keep his voice from breaking.
"Can you track her somehow?" Robby tries to suggest.
"I don't think so," Jack grits out, unable to think enough about how to do that, tears wetting his face despite his best efforts.
Robby looks around. "I'll be back in a second." Jack stands there waiting for him, knowing how pathetic he must look right now and unable to even pretend to care. "Santos said to try using the find my app," Robby tells him as he returns.
That pulls Jack out of it. Yes. Yes, that might work. He might see that you guys went to another bar and you just forgot to say and so you're miles away, across the city even, from Zero's. Shaking hands pull out his phone and open the app, type in the info it needs.
Jack's stomach twists violently. You're there. You're at Zero's. He can feel himself start to give into the panic attack, ignoring Robby and whatever it is he's saying. But then he hears sirens. He automatically goes back into a state of dissociation, brings those walls right back up. His hands steady and his mind clears. For the most part at least. You're there in the back of his mind where you always are.
More and more patients continue to flood the Pitt. The shooter had used nasty bullets designed to do as much damage as possible and lots of patients were showing up DOA or alive but beyond saving. There's more than enough patients to keep him busy though, Jack working on a kind of auto-pilot for the most part. He keeps his eye peeled for you, everybody does, they all know by now. But you never show up.
He doesn't really have the time to check his phone, but Jack makes it as he squeezes a patient's blood bag. Your phone still tells him that you're at Zero's, but the dot has moved slightly. Jack tells himself that's a good thing, you're probably sitting in some triage area with only minor injuries because they'll keep the minor injuries there as long as possible and potentially deem some patients as not needing to go to the hospital. The other possibility is one Jack can't think about right now. Won't let himself think about. They'll keep the bodies of those who died at the scene there in a designated area for a while too.
Someone starts donating O- blood as their supply starts to dwindle. But Jack won't donate, a bit of a surprise to everyone. He can't. He can't give his blood to someone else because what if you need it? What if you roll in here needing it, needing more than he can give because he already donated to someone else and you die? Jack won't take the risk. He'll bleed himself dry for you.
More patients come in as Jack runs around. You're not one of them but then Jack sees some of the friends you went out with and runs over. "Where is she?" He's asking before he even stops to evaluate any of them. "Where is she? Is she right behind you? Is she hurt?"
"She's not here, Jack," one of them tells him softly. "She went to the bar to get another round, was there when it started."
"That's where the shooting started, she was where the shooting started," another friend blurts out in a sob, earning her soft chides and some glares from everyone else because that's the last thing Jack needed to hear.
He steps away from the group, dry heaving a little because you wouldn't survive getting shot with these bullets from a short range. There's no fucking way. And it sounds like short range is exactly where you were.
"Jack!" Robby yells for him from across the floor. "Need you over here!"
It takes a few seconds longer for Jack to pull himself back together and into the state he needs to be in. But eventually he does and runs over to Robby, gets back into it so that his brain has something else to think about.
At some point as things finally start to slow a little, the police show up. "Are they bringing bodies here?" Robby asks one of them as he and Jack work to stabilize a patient.
"No," one of the cops shakes his head. "They're taking them straight to the ME's office since they might be evidence if the shooter lives."
"They're using all their vans and having to make multiple trips," another says somberly. He lowers his voice a little more. "They're going to have to make quite a few trips even with multiple bodies in one van."
Jack glances up at Robby, the two sharing a look as they stabilize the patient and hand her off to surgery. He pulls out his phone without even taking his gloves off, it would waste too much time. Jack's fingers and toes are already starting to go numb, his body shaking again just slightly. Because he knows. Jack knows what he's about to see. And sure enough when he unlocks his phone and refreshes your location you're there.
At the Allegheny county medical examiner's office.
Jack's entire world stops. Sound goes completely so that he hears nothing, his sense of smell goes, he can't smell the overwhelming scent of blood that permeates the air, his vision remains but it's like he's not really seeing. His head is spinning with so many thoughts but he can't seem to fully comprehend them. After thirty seconds or so reality and all of his sense slam back into him.
His phone falls from his hand and he just barely makes it in time to the nearest bathroom to be sick in the sink. This can't be happening. This cannot be fucking happening. You're dead. You were killed. You were fucking murdered.
You became an angel in that stupid fucking costume.
Robby walks in and doesn't say anything, just locks the door behind him to give Jack some privacy. Jack hears it. As much as he tries to stop, Jack continues to be sick until there's nothing left for him to throw up, not even bile. He dry heaves for several minutes after. His body is going to be screaming tomorrow. But it'll be nothing like his mind.
"Jack," Robby shakes his head slowly as he walks closer while Jack takes off his gloves and then rinses the sink and his mouth the best he can. "I am so, so fucking sorry, Brother."
Jack shakes his head. He's not throwing up or crying at the moment and he'd like to keep it that way even though it feels wrong to want even a second of a reprieve from his grief. "I…"
"Yeah," Robby murmurs. "I'd say I know but I don't."
"I can't… I don't know, Michael." Jack stares at himself in the mirror, face and neck flushed and blotchy, his eyes and lips and nose swollen and bright red. But it's the look in his eyes that gets him the most. There's nothing there. Even he can see the emptiness in them. The life and light and spark in him died with you. "She's dead," he whispers, has to force it out because his mouth doesn't want to form the words and speak them and he doesn't want to admit it to himself.
It feels so hard to think about anything concretely. All Jack truly knows and the only thing he fully understands is that you're gone. Something pings in his mind though, something that lets his all-consuming grief turn into rage. He's at the door and unlocking it and flinging it open in seconds, storming out.
"Is he here?" Jack approaches the officers, fury obvious on his face, but so is the devastation and the excruciating pain. The officers furrow their brows. "The shooter? You said if he lives. Is he fucking here?"
"Jack," Robby follows Jack and grabs his shoulder to try and get Jack to turn and look at him.
"No!" Jack snaps, shrugging off Robby and staring more intensely at the officers. "Is he fucking here?" he seethes. "Because he killed my fucking wife!" he yells, his voice breaking over 'wife.'
The Pitt can only get so quiet right now, people can only look at Jack for so long. But it gets as quiet as possible and everyone looks at Jack for as long as they can, expressions of horror and shock and sadness on their faces, some starting to cry.
"Jack," Robby says softly, stepping in front of him and squeezing his shoulder.
Jack takes in a deep, raggedy breath that's difficult to listen to, it sounds so sad, and then blows it back out, just as ragged and raw. "He killed my wife," he says just below normal level, looks up at Robby and shakes his head a little as tears stream down his face. "He killed my girl." Jack's chin and lips tremble as he gets closer to sobbing. "He killed my love." The sobs take over his body at the last word. "He killed her." Robby steps forward and wraps Jack in a hug that isn't returned because Jack doesn't know how to exist anymore, how to do anything. "She's gone… She's, she's, she's just g-gone and I, I…"
When Jack starts to buckle Robby pulls him into the nearest room for some privacy, helping Jack sit in one of the chairs they keep in the room for loved ones to sit in. "I only got her, got her for three and a half years, Michael," Jack sobs. "We weren't even m-married for six months!" Jack's sobs seem to just intensify. "It's not, not enough time! It isn't fucking fair!" His voice breaks again, as raw and painful sounding as he feels. "I need more time with her," he pleads with Robby through his sobs like Robby can do anything about it, like anything short of eternity would be enough time with you. "I need her. I need her, please, Michael, please, I need her, I can't, can't do this without her, we didn't have enough time, and I, I need her."
Jack fully devolves into sobs, ones so wracking he gags and can't possibly speak. Robby sits in the chair next to him and squeezes his shoulder. He lets his hand rest there while Jack sobs.
Jack's head runs through everything, every memory of you. When you first met completely randomly at a coffee shop. When he finally asked you out after you 'ran into each other' for the fifth time at that same coffee shop. Your first kiss. Your first time. The moment he realized he loved you. So many of the dates you guys went on in between it all. Him deciding to propose. Him proposing. Your wedding day. How beautiful you looked, how it didn't seem possible for someone to be so beautiful but there you were. How he thought to himself as you walked down the aisle that you looked like an angel, his angel. His savior. Because fuck, you saved him.
Your honeymoon. Signing on your house. Moving, the first night in your house, unpacking. Christening every conceivable place in your house. Talking and dreaming about the future. Cooking together and doing the dishes. Lounging on the couch. Being inside you. Telling you he loves you. Hearing you say you love him.
He can't fucking do this.
Jack doesn't even hear his phone ring. It's in Robby's pocket in any event from when he picked it up off the floor after Jack dropped it. "Hello?" Robby answers.
"Is this Jack Abbot?" a voice asks.
"N-" Jack doesn't hear Robby's pause. "Yes, it is."
"Jack," the voice says gently, "this is the Allegheny county medical examiner's office. We pulled your name and number from your wife's emergency contact on her phone. There was a shooting at Zero's and it appears your wife was there. I'm so sorry to tell you that she was shot multiple times and didn't make it. We need you to come down as soon as you can and identify her body."
"Uh, yeah," Robby mutters. "Okay. H- I'll come now." He hangs up but doesn’t tell Jack immediately.
It takes another couple of minutes but Jack's sobs eventually stop, replaced by the most all-consuming numbness he's ever felt.
"Jack?" Robby's voice breaks through.
Jack can only grunt in response, can only stare at the floor.
"They need you to go identify the body." Robby shifts on his chair. "I'll go with you, if you want. Things have slowed enough here and a couple others came in. We need to go as soon as possible."
Robby's words blindside Jack. "N-no!" he scoffs. "No, I, I…" Jack doesn't say anything for a minute, can't process the idea of having to go identify your fucking body. "I can't do that Robby. I can't."
"I know," Robby whispers, unconsciously rubbing his thumb over his own wedding band. "I can't imagine Jack."
"No Robby," Jack whispers, tears streaming down his face. "I really can't. I can't see her… there, like that. Dead in a body bag. I'd never see anything else again." Even just saying it and conjuring the mental image is taking over Jack's mind pretty quickly.
"Okay," Robby nods. "I'll come with you and I'll identify her, okay?"
"I can't ask you to do that," Jack mumbles through his tears, voice raw.
"You didn't ask. I offered. Let me do this for you and for her." Robby squeezes Jack's shoulder. "I know you'd do the same for me."
Jack can hear the sorrow in Robby's voice at the idea of his wife dying. "I hope I never have to. I pray, because I don't want you to ever, ever lose her or feel how I do." He finally forces himself to look at Robby. Robby's been crying, his face wet and eyes red. "After this go home and hold her Robby, please." Jack's voice cracks. "Tell her you love her and just never," Jack sniffles, more tears flooding down his cheeks, the same happening to Robby, "never let her go. Hold her, and love her and tell her you love her and show her you love her and keep her close and make sure she knows how much you love her and adore her and how beautiful you think she is." Jack shrugs a little, his lips pulling down and trembling. "I'd give anything to be able to tell her one more time. To hear her say she loves me and get to tell her that I love her one more time."
Robby lets out an audible sob and Jack stops himself from saying anything else. It's not fair to put his best friend through this. "Let's go," he whispers.
"I will Jack," Robby says shakily, "I will. I promise."
Jack nods at him and then finally forces himself out of the chair and to walk out with Robby. Another group of patients with minor injuries who were kept at the scene's triage come through the door, some ambulatory, some in wheelchairs. He can feel all the eyes on him, can sense all the pitying looks he's sure he's getting as he walks through the Pitt. The ambulance bay doors close as Jack and Robby get about thirty feet away from them.
But then a straggler walks through and Jack's entire world stops again.
It's you.
"Michael?" Jack whispers, tears filling his eyes again as he abruptly stops walking. He needs reassurance that he's not hallucinating you, because he wouldn't put it past himself to hallucinate you.
"That's her Jack," Robby reassures Jack.
"Jackie!" You call his name once you see him and the sound is so beautiful and real and you that Jack starts crying as he takes off toward you. You nearly run to him, throwing your arms around him despite how badly it hurts. You feel something in your one arm shift painfully and some pulling at your skin but you don't fucking care and the adrenaline is keeping the pain bearable. Relief floods you as Jack's arms wrap tightly around you and when you realize he's crying it forces your tears to fall.
"Oh my god," he mumbles, nearly unable to believe this is real. "You're alive. You're…" he trails off as his crying slowly works its way back towards sobbing. He doesn’t know how to comprehend this, how to deal with his reality changing on a dime for the second time tonight.
"Guys." Robby ushers you both quietly into the empty room right next to you, draws the curtain as you and Jack wrap your arms back around each other, shuts the door and leaves the two of you alone.
"I'm sorry Jack," you cry into his chest, still running on what feels like sheer adrenaline. "I'm sorry, I wanted to text or call you but I lost my phone and they wouldn't let me use one. I'm so sorry I made you worry," you sniffle.
"I thought," Jack sobs, "I thought you were dead. They, they." He has to take in a wracking breath as more tears fall. "They called me to come identify your, your body," he whispers, voice high-pitched and almost squeaky from how much emotion is in it.
Your heart shatters at his revelation. He thought you were dead. He all but had official confirmation you were dead. He'd had to live with that, had to live while thinking and believing you were dead. You can't even imagine the pain. Or maybe you can and that's why it's so fucking devastating to you.
"But you're not." Jack kisses the top of your head, still sobbing softly. "You're not, you're here. You're okay. You're alive." It hits him then, and his hands start to run over your body to check for injuries. He can't quite bring himself to let go of you yet. "Are you? Are you okay? Were you hit?"
"No," you shake your head against his chest. "The paramedics checked all over, I'm, I'm okay Jack. Someone must have picked up my phone, I don't know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry my love. I'm okay, I promise."
Usually Jack wouldn't believe them, would only trust himself to examine you. But with the white you're wearing and your bare arms and legs, it would be incredibly obvious if you'd been shot, so he trusts them this once. Jack pulls back slightly so he can look down at your face, one hand holding the back of your neck and the other wrapped around your waist. "You're okay. You're alive."
"I'm okay," you nod, "and I'm alive."
"It wasn't enough time," Jack shakes his head, face furrowing with grief and hurt and sadness. Sadness so pure you can see it consuming him. "I didn't have enough time with you."
"Jackie," you whisper, your face scrunched partially in heart break. It's killing you to see him like this and you know that what you're feeling, the level of pain you're in, is nothing compared to the pain Jack was and still is in. "I love you."
Jack takes in a hiccuped breath. "I love you too. So fucking much. I want you to know that. I love you. No matter what, no matter how mad I seem at you. I always love you. I will always love you. I love you." He leans down and kisses you, soft and short at first just to confirm you're there. It's only then that relief finally truly crashes over him, that he's finally able to trust that you're really here and alive and still with him. The kisses grow more intense, not sexually, just intimately, two people so very in love reuniting after being through something horrific without each other.
Kissing you and the relief it brings causes Jack's adrenaline to crash. As his sobs start again he tries so hard to keep kissing you and to stay standing. But when you start to sob again too and wilt against him a little bit, Jack does too, the two of you melting onto the floor together, Jack pulling you onto his lap so you can hold each other while you sob until you physically can't anymore.
You're both so fucking far beyond exhausted from working and being in an active shooting and the swelling of your eyes from all the tears you've cried just makes the exhaustion feel even more intense. You both know there is so much to say and discuss and heal from and talk through. So much that saying there's so much feels like the biggest fucking understatement. But you and Jack intrinsically know that tonight is not the night for that. Tonight is about just being together and loving on each other. For you, tonight is about giving Jack whatever he wants and needs from you, however much of yourself he wants and needs, whatever that looks like.
"Jack?" you whisper after a few minutes of sitting in silence just holding each other.
"Yeah?" There's an edge to your voice he doesn't like. You sound like you're in pain.
"I do," you sniffle and clear your throat, "I do think I broke my arm."
Jack unwraps his arms from you and you do the same, both of you pulling back a little. You wince as you show him your arm. There's now an obvious deformity in the middle of your forearm. It hadn't looked like that before, your arm had hurt but you didn't mention it to the paramedics because it seemed so trivial in comparison.
He looks at your arm and then up at you, shaking his head slightly. "You think?" he huffs through a laugh, watery and teary sounding but a laugh nonetheless. You watch the life and light and spark return to his eyes.
You let out a matching laugh and however it happens you and Jack end up devolving into a soft fit of laughter with tears streaming down your face from your grief and how fucked up everything is and how much turmoil and pain you're both still in. If anyone walked in you'd probably look insane together, laughing as you cry in emotional agony.
"Come on," Jack sniffles once the laughter dissipates. "Let's get your arm fixed and get you home." For the thousandth time tonight Jack's voice breaks, this time when he talks about getting you home.
"I'd really love that." You give him a watery smile that's slightly pained. "Could we get me pain meds too? The adrenaline is really wearing off."
Jack laughs softly and kisses your forehead. "Of course. Didn’t even have to ask, I can't have my girl being in pain. And you can have whatever you want or need right now. I will buy you the Golden Gate fucking Bridge, if that's what you want and need."
You giggle at him and Jack has to stop himself from sobbing again at the sound. It's a bit weak but that's to be exhausted with everything you've been through tonight and how tired you are. It's still you giggling in his arms. "I don't think that will be necessary. The only thing I want and need is you."
Jack gives you a closed lip smile and a shaky laugh through his nose, his eyebrows raising at you slowly for a few seconds. "The only thing I want and need is you," he tells you. The two of you share a few more quick kisses. "Alright, let's go get you out of pain, physical pain at least, and your arm realigned. Hopefully we can realign it down here and Ortho doesn't think you need surgery. I think I'd fucking lose it if I had to put you under anesthesia right now."
"I have confidence in you, Dr. Abbot." You wink at him, your smile smaller than what it normally is when you do, but still a smile. Jack chuckles and shakes his head at you.
Later that night, or really early early on the morning of November first, you and Jack get home, your arm realigned and casted, no surgery needed. He helps you shower, washes blood and the day off of you and himself. Every touch is reverent. They have been since he first got his arms around you in the Pitt. Jack helps you dry and does your skincare and helps you brush your teeth before he brushes his. He does your hair how you like and then walks into the bedroom with you and slides into bed right behind you.
For the night, you talk about anything but what just happened. You both just need to not right now. Sleep comes for you both quickly, Jack holding you close and petting your hair. He's whispering sweet nothings to you as you fall asleep, fighting back tears because he thought he'd never have this again.
When you both wake up in the morning you order breakfast and eat it in bed, decide you're staying in it all day. Jack tells you he's not just going to take some time off work but rather go on a leave of absence because he needs to, both to take care of you and to take care of and figure out himself. You agree, were already planning on taking at least a few weeks off because you can already feel some anxiety about leaving the house and being anywhere public setting in.
After that discussion you go back to not talking about it for now. It's still too soon for the both of you. You love on Jack and let him love on you because you know that's what he needs. It's what you'd need if you'd lived believing he was dead and were asked to identify his body.
So Jack holds you. Tells you that he loves you and doesn't let go of you all day. When you tell him you're feeling up to it Jack loves on you, shows you that he loves you. Jack keeps you close and makes sure you know how much he loves you and adores you and how beautiful he thinks you are. Because he can. Because you're here with him and alive and he lived far too long in agony wishing that he could do it all one more time.
And the next morning when he wakes up to you alive and in his arms, sighing softly in your sleep against him, he does it all again.
Okay, I will admit it got far more No Man's Land-y than I initially thought it would BUT in my defense, I did try to hint at the happy ending in the summary. 😭 I hope it was okay and you were able to enjoy! I love to hear your thoughts and comments! Thank you so much for taking the time to read! ♥️
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