𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧)
jack abbot x exwife!reader | 11.5k words
summary: a failed marriage, a traumatic brain injury, an old emergency contact, and a love that doesn’t give up.
warnings: okay, medical inaccuracies up the wazoo, I tried my best with research but at the end of the day I am simply just not a doctor :(, car accident, failed marriage, TBI, multiple panic attacks, memory loss, ONE USE OF (Y/N) BECAUSE I COULD NOT FIND A WAY AROUND IT PLS FORGIVE ME!
main masterlist | support dividers by @cafekitsune
Jack received the phone call at 3:48 AM.
It was his one night off, and his sleep schedule was so messed up that he didn’t sleep through the night even on off days. He was awake, staring at his buzzing phone, wondering why he was getting a phone call from Dana, of all people, at 3:48 in the morning.
“Dana, you okay?’
Dana stood on the other end of the line, free hand on her hip and wondering how the hell she was supposed to tell Jack the information that she had.
The silence hung heavy, something was wrong.
“Dana?”
Dana exhaled a breath, shaky and long. Your name tumbled past her lips and Jack nearly dropped his phone as he shot up off of his couch, fumbling for his prosthetic while Dana explained that you were there, in his ED, and he was still listed as your emergency contact.
“How bad is it?” He asked after getting changed and out the door, faster than he ever had while he fumbled with his housekey, shaky hands struggling to jam it into the keyhole.
“Just get here as fast as you can.”
“Page Robby.”
“Already did.”
Jack’s thoughts raced a thousand miles an hour as he drove the short distance to PTMC, after your divorce, he’d chosen a place close to the hospital so he could easily get out the door and to the hospital if he was needed. But he hated it, hated the small house he rented, not bought, just in case you’d ever change your mind one day and decide you love him still, decide you want him to come back and share your home again.
The house was small and cramped and rundown, but it did the job for a divorcee who didn’t do much but work and sleep. He thought the reason it was so void of warmth is because you weren’t there to fill it.
The day you handed him the divorce papers was the worst of his life, beating the day he lost his foot by miles. He worked too much, was no longer emotionally or even physically present. He was starting to feel like a roommate to you, not your husband. And he had let you go, you had given him a choice, and he let you go. He didn’t promise things would be different or that he’d change because he knew he couldn’t.
Or that he wouldn’t.
But as time drew on he realized more and more everyday how much he’d do anything to get you back, and was crushed by the weight that it was entirely too late. But now, as he sped through the streets of Pittsburgh to get to you, he realized he’d do anything for you to just be alive.
“I promise I’ll never ask you for anything again.” He whispered as his hands gripped onto the steering wheel, pleading and making deals with God, unsure if he could even hear him.
He didn’t know what he was walking into, but if Dana wouldn’t even give him details over the phone, he knew it had to be bad. So bad that Dana couldn’t even speak it.
His heart thundered in his chest, blood roaring through his ears when he made his way into the Pitt, having slipped in through the ambulance bay so he didn’t have to deal with the groanings of the very impatient patients that sat in chairs. The doors slid open and Jack was immediately met with two hands on his chest, stopping him from walking in any further.
“Jack, I need you to listen to me. Really listen.”
“Where is she?” His eyes were dark, darker than Dana had ever seen them, she was sure. There were too many people in between him and the only woman he ever loved and he needed her to move. But her feet were planted like cement to the floor, she’s seen worse.
“She’s already up in the OR with Walsh, Robby got her stabilized- Jack!”
As soon as he heard the word OR, his feet were moving, past both Dana and Robby who were trying like hell to keep him downstairs, but he tore his arms away from their grips and continued on his path.
Robby had to push him up against the wall, forearm barred over his chest to get him to stop. He felt bad and he was sure Jack would have a headache after but he didn’t have any other choice.
“You cannot go up there.”
Jack’s nostrils flared, moving his shoulder to make an effort to get out of Robby’s hold but Robby only pushed him further into the wall.
“She’s alone.”
His voice was cut raw as he spoke, each word painful.
Robby shook his head, “Walsh has her. She’s not alone.”
“She’s my wife.”
Robby hung his head, thinking over his next words carefully before realizing there was no gentle way to deliver the words he needed to deliver.
“Not anymore, Jack. Right now, you’re just her emergency contact.”
Jack’s breath sputtered, heart cracking in his chest because he knew Robby was right. He wasn’t even sure how he was still your emergency contact. He was sure you had friends, family, maybe even a new boyfriend to fill that space, but Dana had confirmed multiple times that he was the only one listed. Jack didn’t even know where to begin in finding someone else to call for you. Your dad died when you were in high school and your mom passed away during your marriage, leaving you with no other family except a few distant aunts and uncles and a handful of cousins. He didn’t know any of your friends anymore, didn’t even know if any of them were still around. He asked Dana to keep looking.
“What happened?”
Jack asked after Robby escorted him into a family room, finally give in that there was nothing he could do for you now, and he had to let the surgeons do their jobs.
Robby ran a hand over his face. He knew when Dana called him in that he would not only have to work to stabilize you and save your life, but he’d have to face Jack, and tell him what happened to you, tell him what he had to do to save your life.
He watched Jack’s face fall more and more as he explained you were in a car accident, hit head on and spun off of the highway and into a ditch. Explained how it took firefighters and EMT’s hours to figure out how to get you out of your car without killing you on the spot.
He told him how he didn’t recognize you when he entered the trauma room.
Robby had held his tongue for a moment before telling him that, but ended up realizing it was better for him to know what he was going to walk into when you were out of surgery rather than be blindsided.
He explained that they did, and are doing, everything they possibly can to save your life.
Jack would relive the day you gave him divorce papers over and over if it meant you never had to be here.
What Robby didn’t tell him, was that the guy who hit you was DOA, that he had seen pictures of your car and nearly vomited at the sight, and that your last conscious moments were spent terrified, asking for Jack.
It’s not what he needed right now, what he needed was to cling onto hope that you were going to wake up.
Hours drawled on, two friends crammed into a family room, sitting in chairs and couches that were two small for their large frames, unsure what time it was as they started to question reality by doing nothing except staring at the walls that stretched out in front of them.
Every so often, Jack would forget why he was there, forget why he was sat at an awkward angle staring at a picture of a pond that was supposed to be calming, then he’d remember and it would all hit him like a pound of bricks.
Robby fell asleep with his head tilted back and mouth open.
Jack envied him. Every time his eyelids started to weigh heavily, pulled down by lack of sleep and upset, his body would jolt him awake, like it knew this was not the time for him to get to happily doze off.
He was waiting for you.
“Jack.”
His body jolted, head snapping up as he was caught in a moment of dozing off.
Emery Walsh was in front of him, expression unreadable, she looked drained, deflated to the bone. Her shoulders sagged and the normal whites of her eyes were beat red, hair wild and coming out of what once was a neat bun in the back of her head.
“Please tell me you saved her.”
Emery crouched in front of Jack, eyes the softest he’s ever seen them and he prepared himself for the worst as she looked at him.
She brought a hand up to grip his wrist.
“You can go see her, Jack.”
Jack felt relief tear through his body, a noise shot from his throat that he’s certain he’s never made before as he nodded, his free hand coming up to squeeze Emery’s in a wordless ‘thank you’. A woman who, in the past, has been nothing but a pain in his ass, is now the woman that saved your life. As he looked at her he saw someone completely knew, a person, who just fought tooth and nail to keep another person breathing. He’d never forget it.
Robby stirred at the commotion, immediately asking if you were okay before he could even peel his eyes open, his eyelids lined with thick sleep.
Jack just nodded in response, unable to form words.
The elevator from the ED to the ICU felt like hours, as Emery explained the extent of your injuries, Jack felt sick to his stomach.
“I’m going to explain this to you as if you know nothing, okay? Just listen.” She’d said the second Jack and Robby stepped into the elevator. “She has a DAI, diffuse axonal injury. While it’s not primarily an internal bleed, her brain nerve fibers were torn due to the acceleration of the car accident, causing small, microscopic hemorrhages.”
Jack felt he was going to be sick, he knew what all of this meant, he knew what DAI was, had seen it too many times. Too many times to know that people don’t just bounce back from this. You were never going to be the same.
His hands clenched in his pockets.
He followed Emery down the halls of the ICU, the only sounds being the echoing of their footsteps and the too slow beeping of monitors coming from the rooms that they passed.
Emery stopped in front of a door, which he was assuming was yours, but paused before turning to him, her hand hovering over the handle.
“Jack you should know-“
“I know.”
“I know, you know. But I’m required to tell you the risks of what she faces when she wakes up.”
Jack swallowed, thick, his own saliva feeling foreign in his mouth. She took his silence as a sign to continue.
“She might not wake up for a long time, that’s not a bad sign, okay? And when she does, Jack, she-“ She took in a sharp inhale, she’s delivered these words hundreds of times but never to someone she knew. Someone she’d even say she respected. “She may not remember you.”
Jack didn’t move, his hands still firmly shoved into his pockets, eyes fixed on the handle of the door.
Robby choked behind him.
“Due to the severity of the TBI, we hope that it’ll only be temporary. But she-“ Her head turned towards the door to your room. “She’s really gonna need you. This is not a time for you to disappear into your despair.” She turned back towards Jack, eyes sharp and serious. “Do you understand?”
“Let me see her, please.” His voice rasped and broke around the edges and he didn’t care. Each second he stood there, with a door barring him from seeing you, felt like agony. His skin burned with every minute that passed that he wasn’t holding your hand or brushing your hair out of your face.
Emery nodded, “She’s intubated. Just, prepare yourself, okay Jack?”
Robby’s firm hand squeezed Jack’s shoulder after he nodded, and he’d never been so thankful for his best friend as he was in that moment. He’d be too scared to walk into that room without him.
He realized when Emery opened the door he should’ve taken a few moments to prepare himself for exactly what he was about to see, he underestimated it tremendously.
You laid on the bed, practically lifeless, with a tube sticking out of your throat and white gauze wrapped around your head, eyes so swollen he probably wouldn’t be able to see your pretty irises even if you were awake. Your leg was in a cast, ending just above the knee, elevated with a strap that hung from the ceiling. Your arms were covered in bruises and stitches and he could barely tell that you were even there under all of that mess.
He stumbled into the room, breath catching in his throat as he brought a hand up to his chest, clutching at the material of his tee shirt as if they would do anything to hold his heart together as he felt it was being torn to pieces while he looked at you.
“Oh, god. Honey…”
His hands hovered over you, not knowing where he could touch you without causing further damage, and he settled for just resting his hands on the stiff mattress with his pinky finger pressed up against yours.
Emery backed out of the room without a word, gently shutting the door behind her. Robby stood by the door, arms interlocked over his chest as he watched his friend fall apart.
Not even he could walk him off of this ledge.
“She’s gonna fight like hell.” He said after a few moments of silence, watching Jack watch you.
Jack didn’t respond.
“And we are gonna fight like hell.”
Jack continued to stare at you, soundless tears slipped past his lashes. “I should’ve fought harder before.”
“Jack-“
“No.”
His voice was ragged, so broken as he still wouldn’t turn to face his friend, eyes glued to you.
“Maybe she wouldn’t be here if-“
“Don’t do that to yourself.”
“If I had fought harder for her before-“
He was panicking, chest rapidly rising and falling as he choked on his words.
“Nothing would have changed.”
Robby’s voice was stern, cutting through the anxiety that was radiating off of Jack.
“You hear me?” He stepped closer to him, so close that his voice rang in Jack’s ears. “Nothing would have changed. Fate has a habit of playing like that.”
Jack gripped the sheets, knuckles turning white.
“You’re here now. You can change it.”
“We’re divorced.”
That one thing, that one detail of this whole mess hung in the air, ugly and thick and Robby wanted to kick something.
“She needs you. Divorce or not. I’m here for whatever you need.”
And with that, Robby was out the door, and Jack was left with just you, your face being a cruel, physical manifestation of the heartbreaking reminder of what he’d done to your marriage. What he’d done to you.
-
It had been weeks, weeks of turning you over so you wouldn’t get bed sores, which took a whole team considering the countless other injuries that littered your body, Jack was just thankful you weren’t awake for it and prayed you couldn’t feel the pain through your sleep, the only thing that relaxed him was the steady rate of your monitor. Weeks of Dana coming in to administer your sponge baths while Jack waited outside the door like a guard dog, understanding that it wasn’t his place anymore. Weeks of reading you your favorite book, Little Women, aloud, and trying to ignore the ache in his chest when he got to the chapters of Beth’s sickness and eventual death.
“That’s not gonna be you, baby.” He’d said as he read to you.
It was weeks of waiting, not sleeping, and holding your hand once he’d worked up the courage to do so, after a little bit of encouragement from nurses and various doctors in the ICU. He was sure he looked like hell, curls awkward from sleeping in weird positions, heavy bags under his eyes, his irises watery and glazed over from his lack of sleep and tears. Every muscle and bone in his body ached from the discomfort of the hospital but nobody could convince him to leave because it was a thousand times worse for you and he refused to leave you alone here.
It was beginning to feel like routine, massaging your stiff muscles and sponge baths and turning you over and brushing your hair as gently as possible after Emery was able to take the gauze off of your head. Jack was beginning to think that maybe this was just life now, maybe this was all you were going to get and he was unconsciously okay with the idea of this being his new normal, if it meant you were safe from pain, comfortable, maybe somewhere nice in your sleep, he’d take care of you like this forever.
But a heartbreaking, sputtering breath brought him back to reality.
“Oh my god.” He pushed up from the chair he was in, the legs sliding across the ground with a sickening screech, and dropped the book he was in the middle of reading, the pages crumpling beneath him as they hit the floor, accidentally stepping on it as he scrambled to hit the call nurse button, not being authorized to remove your intubation himself.
“They’re coming, sweetheart.” He tried to comfort you as tears ran down the sides of your face, resting a gentle hand on the top of your head. “I know, baby. I know. Try to relax.”
His heart severed in half as he watched you struggle, at the painful choking sounds that came from your throat as the nurses pulled the tube out of you, the coughs that rang from deep in your chest, dry heaves that left spurts of saliva down the front of your gown as you cried.
“Breathe.” He soothed, finally smoothing his hand over your hair, his other hand grasped in yours.
“Wa-“ Your voice rasped and you couldn’t even finish your word before you were coughing again. He looked to the nurses and they nodded, busying themselves with pouring water into a small paper cup for you, sticking a straw into it and handing it to Jack.
“Small sips.” He instructed and you wrapped your lips around the straw, taking in probably too big of a sip and you closed your eyes with relief, whining when Jack pulled the cup away from you.
“I know, I’m sorry. More soon, okay?”
You continued to breathe deeply, cautiously, as if you were relearning how to breathe. The swelling in your face had gone down significantly, the bruises were either faded yellow or gone completely, your arms were returned to their original color and the cast on your leg had already been changed in the weeks you were still sleeping. You looked like you again.
Jack knew, he knew the whole time you’d been sleeping, having had weeks to prepare for you not to recognize him, and it still hit him like a tank when your eyes turned to him, confused and utterly helpless. You asked the question and Jack felt like the wind got knocked out of him. That dreaded question he’d put off thinking about for weeks.
“Who are you?”
Your voice was raspy and raw, as if you were talking through razor blades that were lodged in your throat, Jack winced at the noise and the pain that was evident on your face as you spoke.
Emery was in the room now, not exactly the doctor assigned to your care but she’d be damned if all she did was save your life and then disappear from your case.
Her eyes flitted to Jack, this had been a possibility, her and Jack had discussed it and still, it didn’t make this moment any easier.
Jack looked at Emery, almost for permission, not wanting to do anything that would stress you out or have to elongate your recovery.
She nodded.
Jack inhaled as he turned back to you, his hands awkward at his sides. He wore a soft smile to not scare you but it didn’t reach his eyes.
You noticed that it didn’t reach his eyes.
“We uh,” He coughed, “We were married.”
You didn’t say anything, just stared at him as he loomed over you. Familiarity flooded your veins but the lack of familiarity in your eyes spooked Jack as he watched you, waiting, hoping for something, anything.
“Tired.” Your voice was raspy, hardly above a whisper as you talked through the swelling in your throat, your eyelids started to flutter, Jack could tell you were fighting to keep them open.
“That’s okay.” Emery assured you, adjusting your pillows and pulling your blanket up around your shoulders. “Rest a bit, alright?”
She hadn’t even finished speaking before you were asleep again.
“She’s gonna hate me.” Jack spoke.
“Maybe.” Emery said, “Maybe not. Why don’t you give her the chance to decide?”
-
When you woke up again, peeling your eyelids apart like they had been glued shut while you were sleeping, the room was empty, quiet aside from the slow beeping of your heart monitor.
You groaned as the light seeped in through your squinted lids. Whose idea was it to make these lights so damn bright in here? And where even is here anyway?
“Hey, hun. Let’s turn these lights off, hm?”
A voice rang throughout the room, and suddenly the lights were dimmed and you relaxed, as much as you could with the throbbing in your head.
A woman with nearly white blonde hair entered your eyesight, a small smile playing on her lips as she looked down on you. She was dressed in grey scrubs and a pair of glasses were perched on the end of her nose. She wore a badge and you strained your eyes to read what it said.
Dana Evans, charge nurse.
“Aren’t you a vision in hospital wear?” She joked and you wanted to laugh, but everything just felt so scary and unfamiliar that as soon as you went to laugh you ended up choking on a sob instead.
“Oh, honey.”
You kept crying, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as your body wracked with sobs, tears were slowly turning into panic as your heartrate rose rapidly, the monitor being much faster than it was before. Your chest was burning, something thorned and sharp and unforgiving was lodged in your chest and you gripped at the sheets underneath you, wanting to curse and scream but feeling like a prisoner in your own body as you writhed and struggled.
“You’re safe.”
A new voice cut through the air and that same rush of familiarity sank into you, seeping through your skin and bones and settling deep into you.
A large hand laced through yours, and despite your confusion, you gripped back, harder. The hand was warm, calloused and rough but impossibly soft in yours, it was what you needed.
Jack had been sitting out in the hall while you slept, guilt started to creep in to his chest when you didn’t recognize him, unsure if you even would want him there if you knew who he was, if you remembered why your marriage failed and what he had done, or more so lack thereof, to get you to the broken place you are now, a place where he was afraid to even hold your hand.
Emery’s words rang in his head, a constant, aching reminder.
“She’s gonna need you.”
“This is not a time for you to disappear into your despair.”
He hated how accurately she read him, like a damn picture book on display for everyone to see and understand. Because as he sat here, eyes fixed on the lifeless walls of the ICU, all he wanted was to disappear, for Dana to find your real emergency contact, not the outdated one, and let you be taken care of in the way you deserved. And he was contemplating it, really truly thinking about walking away when a hand touched his shoulder.
“She needs you.”
Those three words snapped him back into place, back to the present.
You needed him.
He cannot disappear.
And now he was there, his hand clasped in yours, desperate for you to calm down, to stop crying and looking so scared because it was ruining him. The woman who was usually so confident, so sure of herself, now horizontal in a hospital bed, every limb and finger shaking because you didn’t know where you were and everything was confusing and you were so scared.
A noise broke through Jack’s voice as he watched you struggle, a mix between a whine and a choked sob, his body was trying to erupt with emotion at your pain but he had to hold it together, he couldn’t break. Not here, not in front of you.
“I promise. I promise you’re safe.”
Pet names were desperate on his tongue but he didn’t want to confuse you any further than you already were, so he pushed through with everything in them to keep them at bay. His free hand fretted over you, never really landing because he was just so unsure of his place in all of this. In where you wanted him.
“Keep talkin’ to her.” Dana encouraged, tilting her head towards the heart monitor and Jack was astonished to see that it was helping, your heart rate was going further and further down with each word he spoke.
“Just breathe, okay? Match mine.” He instructed, breathing in and out loudly so you could follow his steady motions. “Breathe when I breathe.”
You struggled for a minute, each breath being caught by the panic in your chest, but Jack was incredibly patient.
“It’s okay. Keep trying. Doing so good.”
His words were steady, his tone even despite the shake that threatened to break through his throat.
Eventually your breaths were matching his completely, eyes wide and teary as you looked up at Jack, completely enthralled by his presence despite still not understanding why he felt so comfortable to you.
“Good, that’s good. Good job.”
Your hand didn’t leave his.
“Did you ever find her emergency contact?”
Jack spoke low, mouth turned away from you in an effort to only have Dana hear him.
Your eyes widened, “I don’t have an emergency contact?”
Jack cursed at himself for not speaking low enough, your hand gripped his harder and he scrambled to find words, find an explanation. To figure out a way to tell you that he’s your only emergency contact, but there’s a high chance that you may not want him there.
“No, no. You do. I’m your emergency contact, but-“
“I don’t know you.”
Dana had already pulled out her phone and called for Emery, now that you were awake again, there was unfortunately a lot of questions to ask.
“Do you-“ Jack choked on his words, hating how he even had to ask this question. “Do you know who you are?”
You blinked, staring at him like he had just asked you the stupidest question in the world, but eventually the expression in your eyes began to fade, eyes widened and your grip on Jack’s hand tightened even harder because the answer was no, you had no idea who you were, or why you were here, or why this man kept holding your hand and looking at you like you were going to break in half.
Jack could tell just by your reaction, the mist forming in your eyes, what the answer to his question was.
“Hey, that’s okay. It’s normal after-“
“After what?!”
Emery opened the door then, giving you a tight lipped smile as she entered the room, stale with grief and antiseptic.
“Glad to see you’re awake again.”
Your eyes followed her as she crossed the room, each footstep methodical and properly placed, after doing this countless times it felt like a routine for her, but she had to remember now, in this room, this wasn’t routine, this was Jack Abbot’s ex-wife, the only woman he ever loved and things were different. She wasn’t on this case because of routine, she was on this case because Jack trusted her and her skills and because you could not be another routine rotation.
“I’m Dr. Emery Walsh, can you tell me your name?”
You just stared at her, face unchanging, stoic, even.
“Can you tell me why you’re here?”
You shook your head.
Emery nodded, giving you a small smile. “You were in a head on collision. Hit your head pretty good and got stuck under your car for a while,”
Something sharp twisted in Jack’s stomach.
Emery moved about the room as she asked you questions, checked your heart monitor, rest your IV, logged onto the computer and was now typing your responses into your chart. She explained your broken bones, what happened with your head and how they fixed it, and lastly that these scary moments of being unsure where you were, were totally normal all things considering.
“Post traumatic amnesia.”
She’d explained.
“Dr. Abbot, would you step outside with me?” Emery turned to Jack after bombarding you with probably too much information, and motioned for the door. Your grip on him tightened and his chest ached, he promised he’d be back, and that Dana would stay with you, he wasn’t leaving you alone. Jack followed Emery into the hallway.
“Post traumatic amnesia is temporary, Jack.”
Jack knew she had more to say, “But…”
“But sometimes it takes years.”
Jack swore, crossing his arms and turning away from the surgeon, biting at the inside of his mouth to try and control any sort of emotion that was threatening to expose him on his facial features.
“Why does she cling to me like she does?”
Emery sighed, “Even though her brain doesn’t recognize you, her body does. She probably notices little things in you that she doesn’t in anybody else she’s met so far. You were also there when she woke up, a comforting presence. She’s latched on.”
Jack wonders if you’d have latched onto him if you remembered anything.
Every bit of information that stuck in his brain from school, training, years in the field betrayed him, fled from his mind as if evacuating because of the sheer panic that was now living there, for the first time in his life, Jack Abbot didn’t know what to do.
“What do I do?”
Emery was more than sympathetic, more than she usually would be with Jack, because he was going through hell, and this was completely normal for doctors and surgeons. All of their muscle memory and protocol seemed to fly out the window as soon as it was someone they cared about, it’s why it was against the rules for them to work on their own family members and loved ones.
“Talk to her. Tell her things about herself, about you, about what you’ve done together.”
Jack sucked in a breath.
“And the divorce?”
Emery studied him for a moment, the way his fingers were shaking but he had them held so tightly between his arms that it was barely there, how his lip was wobbling but he was trying to hide it. The deep bags pressing into the skin below his eyes from his lack of sleep. He was wrecked.
“Tell her all of it, Jack.”
-
“Where did we get married?”
Jack smirked, “Courthouse down the road. You wore a white dress you found at goodwill and a cheap bouquet from the convenience store two doors down.”
You nodded as you soaked in the information, what kind of person you were, what kind of person Jack was, the kind of couple you were together. To you, it seemed as though you were the type of couple who just wanted to be together, and didn’t care about much else. The kind of couple that could get married at a courthouse and honeymoon at a motel on the edge of town because you were just so wrapped up in each other that none of the planning or grand gestures seemed worth it to you.
You looked at him now, nestled into a crappy hospital chair that was too small for his large frame and you wondered where it all went wrong, but you weren’t sure you wanted to know. You didn’t want to taint the picture perfect image you had of the two of you in your head, didn’t want to know what could have possibly happened between you and the handsome doctor that refused to leave your bedside as you recovered.
“You seem like you were a good husband.”
He wiped your face after you ate, he stood outside of the bathroom door while the nurse on shift helped you shower or use the toilet, he massaged your feet and read you books and reminded you everyday that you were beautiful despite the thin layer of grime that never seemed to go away even after you washed yourself multiple times. He’d brush your hair and rub creams and moisturizers into your skin and even brush your teeth for you when it all just got too overwhelming and tiring.
He didn’t respond, his eyes were fixed on the pink sheets that brought a little bit of life into your hospital room. Jack had gone to your house and brought back blankets and pillows, comfortable and familiar things for you to have here, even some childhood family photos you had framed and pictures of friends. Friends who hadn’t come by yet. The oblivion you had broke his heart, and he was eagerly awaiting yet mostly dreading the day when your memory came back and everything hit you, unforgiving and heavy.
You'd refused to look at the pictures.
“Emery said you can go home soon.” He avoided your comment, voice rougher than it was before. You noticed how familiar he felt to you, how you noticed sudden drops in his voice and small tremors in his hands or mouth. Despite your memory being completely shot to hell, he felt real to you. You knew him. You took comfort in it.
Home.
As sad as it was, this hospital was your home now. You don’t have any memories outside of the four walls of your hospital room and the hallway from walking up and down it with your physical therapist. Jack had pushed to get you outside multiple times but you kept refusing. You couldn’t admit that you were scared, feeling like a child for being afraid of going outside, but you were unsure of what waited for you outside, unsure if the trees or fresh air would trigger a memory and to be honest, you’d become nervous of regaining your memories.
You had already triggered a memory, just walking down the hallway of the hospital, something small. A quick flash of light and Jack next to you in scrubs, hands shoved in his pockets. It took your breath away.
Your nurse asked if you were okay and you nodded. You still haven’t told anyone about it. You knew they would take it as a good sign and would just push you more to look at pictures or go outside and you weren’t ready for it yet. You knew you had a life outside of this place and it scared you, because it was a life without the man you’d grown so fond of, and what if it was just a life of heartbreak and emptiness waiting for you. You really only asked small questions here and there, usually when you were tired and Jack would massage your arms with scented lotion, the kind that you liked when you were married, he said. You found that you still liked it now too.
You hummed at his statement, of going home, not giving a definitive answer because you weren’t sure what to say. As much as you didn’t like the smell of the hospital and the death and devastation that surrounded you, somehow you couldn’t shake the feeling that that’s all that waited for you outside of here too. At least here, it was contained. Controlled.
Jack watched as your heavy eyelids fluttered while he rubbed the sore muscles in your arms and he couldn’t help but wonder if you were just as afraid of your memories as he was.
“Go to sleep.”
-
You went home on a Tuesday.
The rest of the world went on, people got in their cars to drive to work, clocked in at their jobs, babies cried and people got married and kids in school took their tests and went on field trips and you were going home.
Emery agreed to release you only on the condition that Jack stay with you, which was his biggest relief yet worst nightmare. The two of you sharing your home together again would surely bring back memories, maybe even bring back memories of the last night you had together, the grief and the devastation and the words he didn’t mean. He couldn’t watch your heart break all over again.
But nonetheless, his fear of you remembering was conquered by his want to get you out of that hospital room and back to your real life.
He had all of your things packed into his car, the last thing being you, and your blanket, waiting for him in a wheelchair with a nurse in the lobby of the ICU wing of the hospital.
You were in a pair of your favorite sweatpants, or at least Jack said that they were, and his too big black sweatshirt that smelled just like him. He had bought you a nice pair of ugg slippers while he was out one day and your feet were slipped into those, clutching the blanket from your own home as if it was the last of your belongings.
Jack’s car pulled up, a shiny black truck, and an uninvited memory flashed behind your eyes.
A car dealership, a sunny day, Jack’s smile and his hand in yours.
Jack recognized it as soon as he walked through the automatic doors, the recognition in your eyes that had never been there before. You couldn’t pretend in front of Jack, couldn’t fake that your memories weren’t coming back. He’d spent years memorizing your features, every look and every small change in your irises, he knew it all.
He crouched in front of your wheelchair, cautious but eager as his hands hovered over you. “What’d you remember?”
“Your uh, your truck.”
Jack turned to look at his car, amazed at how something so simple like his basic black truck could trigger something for you, slowly bring you back to him.
“Yeah, honey? What about it?”
Honey.
“Jack…” Tears filled your eyes as you looked at him, that word dripping past his lips triggering so much emotion in you that you didn’t know was in there.
“Hey…” His voice softened at the tears spilling past your waterline, hand coming up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb catching the stray tears that were falling. “Sweetheart.”
Honey. Sweetheart.
You gasped, choking on more tears.
The nurse holding your wheelchair looked at Jack, raising her eyebrows in a question, asking him wordlessly if this was a good or bad sign. Jack gave her a slight nod that went unnoticed to you, telling her this was good, you were remembering. And it scared him to no end.
“You wanna go home?”
You nodded, movements frantic as you practically fell into Jack while he stood up, arms reaching for him. You didn’t have exact recognition of your memories but there was something there, this wasn’t just the man that you were told was your husband at one point, that you were growing to like. This was your husband. You could feel it blooming in your chest as the words lingered in your ears.
Honey. Sweetheart.
“Let’s get you home.”
Your home, you found, was warm. Low, warm lights filled each room, complete with pretty pictures adorning the walls and books tucked into every corner, draped with soft looking blankets and pretty colored rugs and cushions. You smiled when you saw it, the inviting glow of it chipping away at the fear that had built a wall around your heart.
“This is mine?” You asked, hands running over the dark brown wood of your bed frame as Jack got you situated in your room.
“Yeah, all yours.”
You didn’t miss the way Jack winced when he said it, and you realized this had been his home at one point too. This was your shared house. He’d let you have it.
“Are you going to stay here?”
Jack nodded, “Doctors orders.”
You watched as he unpacked your bag for you, putting everything back in it’s exact right spot, you must’ve not moved things around much after he left.
“And if it weren’t?”
Jack froze, muscles tightening as he clutched on of your tee shirts in his hands. The smell, the layout, everything being the exact same save for the pictures of the two of you on the walls was suffocating him. It hadn’t felt like this when he came back here alone to pick up your things for you.
“I wouldn’t leave you alone. Not for a second.” He said after he continued to move, busying his hands with putting your things away.
For some reason, his answer frustrated you. Because now, being in your house again, you remembered that your marriage failed, that the two of you were separated now and you didn’t know why, all of your past tangled feelings of not wanting to know, of wanting to stay in your oblivious bubble popped. The bubble was gone, you were back in real life, starting your life again.
“But you did leave me. Alone.”
Your voice shook, “I live here alone, don’t I?”
Jack didn’t respond.
“No friends came to visit me, or family. The only people I met in the hospital were doctors and nurses. So tell me again Jack, about how you wouldn’t leave me alone?”
Jack winced at the edge in your voice. He thought maybe it would be best to let your memories come back to you, but now, as you stared at him, anger and impatience laced in your voice as you exhaled through your nose, starting at him, demanding answers. He couldn’t keep it from you any longer.
“You asked for it.” He hated the way it came out, almost accusing, as if him leaving you was your fault, as if he couldn’t have fought harder for you. “You wanted the divorce. I’m sorry.”
The words hit you like a ton of bricks. “Why?”
Jack shook his head, avoiding eye contact with you as he placed his hands on his hips.
“What did you do?”
Jack’s chest caught as he took in a breath, gearing up to say the words he hated himself for. The words he beat himself up about over and over again, the reason he couldn’t sleep at night, the reason his wedding band taunted him on his nightstand, laughing in his face over the biggest mistake he ever made in his life.
“I didn’t choose you.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“You told me, medicine or you. And I didn’t choose you.”
Your jaw dropped and a broken sound escaped your throat, exactly the reaction you gave that night you gave him the choice. Jack wished he didn’t have to relive it but knew he deserved it.
“I want you out.”
“Please-“
“Out of my house!”
Your words cut deep, like a knife to his chest. Your house.
“I uh- I can’t leave you alone.”
You were fuming, chest heaving, angry at the audacity of the man in front of you, how he’s spent these past few months fooling you. Coddling you, making you believe there was a chance, that between the two of you hung something sweet, something good. Something worth saving. Everything felt broken around you.
“Out of my room then.”
Jack looked like he was going to say something but decided against it, the nodded, and ducked out of the room, purposefully trying to make himself smaller in your presence.
“You tricked me!” You yelled once he was out of the room, slamming the door shut and Jack flinched at the booming noise that echoed off of the walls of the house.
As he walked out of your room and down the stairs toward where he knew the guest bedroom was, he tried to ignore the tightness in his chest, the dryness that coated his mouth and the twitch in his muscles. He shut the door behind him and finally let a dry sob escape his lips, covering his mouth with his hand so you wouldn’t hear him.
Your words taunted him, pointed a finger in his face and laughed at him because the last thing he was trying to do was trick you. He loved you, was completely devoted to you in every way and as hard as he tried he knew he couldn’t take his words back from that night. The night where he chose medicine over you, words that he didn’t mean because he was mad, but now it was too late because he had said them and it was over and you shoved divorce papers in his face and there was nothing he could do to make it better. He thought maybe this was his chance, nursing you back to health and reading to you and telling you about your favorite colors and animals and food that you hated, reteaching you how to braid your own hair and crochet. You had to go through the grief process of learning your parents were gone a second time and he held you through it, wiped your tears and stoked your hair and whispered to you that everything was going to be okay, that he was there. He just wanted you to feel loved and safe because this was all so scary, but the other side of him knew, deep down, that he didn’t want you to hate him all over again, the selfish part of him thought maybe he had more time. That maybe you’d remember him as your husband first and ex husband later. He thought he had more time than just a car ride.
Hours went on, loud silence hung in the air of the house as the hours crept later and later. He decided that despite the argument, he was still here as your caregiver, and it had been too long of silence from you, and he should check on you. He was about to make his way upstairs when he heard a loud crash, and suddenly his cautious footsteps were purposeful and quick as he raced up the stairs to find you.
Another crash and a scream rang from his old office, now your storage room, and the sound shot straight through his heart, his foot and prosthetic couldn’t carry him fast enough as he swung open the door and quickly fell to his knees in front of you, body crumpled to the floor, surrounded by scrapbooks and photographs splayed out on the floor around you.
He took your arms in his hands turning them over and assessing you for any injuries, just hoping and praying nothing was self-inflicted because he knew that could happen all too often with cases of amnesia. People becoming frustrated and suffocated by unfamiliarity and just needing to be in control of something.
“What hurts?”
You were crying, loud and ugly tears and Jack peeled the hair from your face, sticky with snot and tears and pushed it back.
You shook your head.
“Get off of me.”
Jack paused a moment, this wasn’t a spill or a surgery complication or an injury, you were having an episode.
This was rage.
“No.”
Him leaving you alone to drown in your despair would help nothing.
You looked at him then, eyes widened from the audacity for him to say no to you. You pushed him but he didn’t move, his body sturdy against your grip while his arms still held yours.
“You left me!”
Jack’s face faltered as you yelled and screamed at him, still trying to push him away.
“I’m here now.”
His voice was even, not climbing even the slightest bit despite thr frustration he felt.
“That means nothing!”
You were getting weaker, dissolving into your own tears. “You should’ve come back for me sooner!”
“I should’ve.”
Eventually you had tired yourself out, your body slumped closer to the floor, away from Jack, arms still in his hold, head practically hanging.
“Why don’t I take you to bed?”
“M’tired.” Your words slurred.
“I know.”
Jack leaned forward to gather you in his arms, ignoring the sting from his prosthetic that he had been wearing for too long as he lifted you up, trying to hide the groan that escaped past his lips, not that you’d notice with how tired you were.
His heart broke as you held onto him tighter when he put you into bed, all he wanted was to be able to climb in next to you and hold your body against his, to pull you on top of him and revel in the comfortability of your body weight on his. But he unraveled your arms from around his neck and pulled the blankets up to your shoulders.
Once again, leaving you alone.
Jack wasn't asleep for long when his eyes shot open, sensing something had shifted in the house, sensing your discomfort even from all the way downstairs. He waited for a moment, eyes raking through the darkness of the room, a sharp cry set him into motion, securing on his prosthetic in record time and launching himself up the stairs and into your room.
Your limbs were tangled in the sheets, and Jack didn't have to get close to know that sweat drenched your forehead and soaked into your hair as sharp cries tore through your chest.
"Wake up, baby."
He smoothed your hair back, wiping the sweat from your skin.
"Baby." He shook you lightly and your body jolted forward, chest heaving and eyes blown wide as you tried to adjust to the dark.
"The car." You rasped out. You had a nightmare of the accident, one of the few things Jack dreaded you remembering.
His heart broke at the thought of how terrifying it all must have been, getting hit so hard then being stuck in your car, injured and bloody, not knowing if anyone was coming for you. If he was coming for you.
"You're safe."
"The car, it-" You were blubbering, messy tears fell down your face and onto your tee shirt and Jack's heart broke clean in half.
"It's over. It's all over. You're safe now."
"Don't leave." Your grip on him strengthened.
"Not leaving. I'm right here."
You fell asleep with him sitting at the edge of your bed, stroking your hair, and when you woke up again, he was gone.
-
Days passed with the two of you just coexisting, more memories came back to you as days went on, small things here and there, you didn’t share them with Jack but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice. How your eyes lingered on pictures of your friends or how your eyes bore into certain objects that belonged to your parents. You had already told him, the second you were recovered, you wanted him out, so he kept to himself. Kept himself busy by cleaning and finding various projects around your house, fixing whatever needed to be fixed.
“My name is (Y/n).”
Jack nearly jumped at the sound of your voice after going so many days without hearing it. You had been sitting outside, stretched out on a blanket in the yard, letting the sun hit your closed eyelids, and Jack was inside, tidying and reorganizing the kitchen.
He blinked at you, taking in your appearance, your jeans were rolled up to your ankles and a blue striped sweater hung off of one shoulder, sleeves bunched up to your elbows. You looked so cute that he wanted to scoop you up and kiss you all over right then, but he stayed in his spot.
Jack’s brow furrowed at the emotion hanging in your face because you knew your name, you were told your name when you woke up,
“Yeah.” He nodded, voice unsure as he looked at you, worried that maybe you were backsliding in your recovery.
You shook your head, screwing your eyes shut and letting a few tears fall down your cheeks.
“No. I know.”
Jack still looked confused, so you took a step forward.
“I remember. I know.”
Jack’s face washed with relief, eyebrows softening and eyes widening as it clicked into place. The confidence in your shoulders despite the tears and the assurance you carried in your posture. You weren’t being told your name, learning the sound and the letters of it, you knew your name. It was yours. It came back to you.
“Oh my god.” Jack breathed out a laugh and you ran to him, launching into his arms and he didn’t hesitate to catch you, securing his arms around your frame and squeezing tight because this was huge.
“You’re Jack.”
Tears were soaking his shirt and the top of your head, both of you a mess as you held onto each other, the tightness of your grips spoke a thousand words for each of you.
“Yeah, I am.” You were both laughing through sobs, probably the most joyful noise that’s filled your house since he left.
Jack pulled away, framing your face in his hands, beaming.
“This calls for celebration.”
It had been days of you ignoring him, giving him nothing but the cold shoulder and icy stares and yet, here he was, grinning ear to ear after happily cleaning your kitchen and celebrating your small wins, looking at you with nothing but adoration and love in his eyes that it made you feel weak in the knees. You remembered he’s Jack and that he bought a shiny black truck and that he’s a doctor who works in the ED of the hospital and nothing else, but as you look at him now, admiring the beautiful smile that adorned his face and the tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes, your stomach erupted into something unfamiliar, a certain excitement as heat crept into your cheeks.
You had a crush. On your ex-husband.
“I only remember my name, Jack.” You murmured, burying your face back into his shoulder, suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so excited over such a small thing and for your previous outbursts and silent treatment towards him.
He was here, proving his devotion to you as each day passed and as you watched him clean the kitchen and reorganize your photos and deep clean your rugs that maybe love was possible again.
“Hey, that’s a big deal.” Jack rubbed circles into your back. “Will you look at me?”
You pulled your head up off of his shoulder and reluctantly looked at him.
A smile pulled at his lips, and the sparkle in his eye was completely captivating as you practically watched his thoughts dance behind his eyes.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
-
You looked at yourself in the mirror, knowing that the girl in the reflection was you, but not fully recognizing you.
You’d slipped into a black maxi dress and the pair of shoes you liked the most from your closet, something casual but pretty. You did your hair and spent too much time on your makeup, having to call Jack in to help you because your movements were still shaky and uncoordinated, you were happy you hadn’t put your outfit on yet, so Jack could get the full effect later.
You looked pretty, and you were satisfied with what the mirror showed you, but it felt so foreign, staring at your reflection and not being totally sure if it was you looking back at yourself.
A knock sounded from your bedroom door and your heart thumped in your chest.
You answered the door and nearly got the wind knocked out of you from Jack in his dress shirt, nervous hands clutching a bouquet of flowers, various different colors spilled out of the plastic wrap and you wondered when he even found the time to sneak out and get them. Your hands instinctively shot up to clutch your cheeks.
“Hi.” Jack said, holding the flowers out for you.
“Hi.” Your voice was a whisper.
You took the flowers, bringing them to your nose so you could get a whiff and you closed your eyes, taking in the scent.
Flowers. A ring. A party. Multiple parties. Jack.
“These are my favorites.”
“You remember?”
You nodded as you continued to stare at them, “Just now.”
“Wanna put them in water before we leave?”
“Yes.”
Jack guided you down the stairs, watching you closely as you moved the flowers from their wrapping and into a fresh vase. His heart squeezed as you took a moment to just look at them.
“You ready, sweet girl?”
You nodded and Jack held out his arm for you, escorting you out of the kitchen and through the front door. You found it all a bit silly, but incredibly sweet and endearing and you threw your head back in laughter when Jack opened the door for you and made a big deal of gesturing you into the car, bowing as you passed him as if he was your personal chauffer.
He played your favorite song for you in the car, a memory that had come to you recently, something he noticed from the subtle turn of your head and sparkle of your eyes when he played it in the kitchen.
“I Will” by the Beatles.
“Love you forever and forever,” Jack sang in the car with the windows rolled down, voice cracking and pitchy but he’d sing like that forever with no shame if it kept you giggling and looking at him the way you were now. “Love you with all my heart.”
“Love you whenever we’re together, love you when we’re apart.”
He looked at you out of the corner of his eyes, hoping you knew it wasn’t just words he was singing, but declarations to you. Words he meant.
With the look on your face, something told him he did.
He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, the place where you had your first date. He hoped that in taking you here it might trigger some more memories for you.
He did all of the stereotypical date things, held open your door, pulled out your chair, held your hand across the table, and told you how beautiful you looked, over and over.
“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?”
You smiled, “Only like 100 times.”
“Good. Gonna say it 100 more times.”
Once you got home, stomachs aching from too much bread and laughter, you asked Jack if he’d watch a movie with you.
He was breathless, and hoped this whole day hadn’t just been a mood swing, the ones Emery had warned him about. He prayed and begged for this to be real, for this, falling in love, again, to be your new normal in your healing process.
“Yeah, sweetheart. That’d be nice.”
You squeezed his hand and disappeared into your room, mumbling something about getting comfortable and Jack stood frozen for a second before scrambling to do the same.
You beat him to the living room, curled up on the couch with you favorite blanket draped over you, picking at your nails as you stared ahead at the blank TV screen in front of you.
“Hey.”
Your head turned, eyes brightening as he entered the room.
“Hi.”
“What movie do you wanna watch?”
“Whatever was my favorite.”
Jack smiled, “Now there’s two answers for that one. You want the fake answer you’d give to other people when they’d ask or the real answer?”
You gave him a look, a smile tugging at your lips, “Real answer.”
Jack plopped down on the couch next to you, remote in hand.
“Good choice. Madagascar it is.”
“What was my fake answer?”
“Little Miss Sunshine. That would’ve been a good choice too.”
“Can we watch that one next time?”
“Anything you want.”
You were basically draped over Jack when the movie ended, his arm holding you up and in place with your cheek smushed against his chest, eyes drooping as the end credits rolled.
You turned your head to look up at him only to find he was already looking at you.
“Jack?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you kiss me?”
You could feel Jack’s heartrate pick up in his chest. He just looked at you for a moment, his eyes flickered to your lips and in that moment you knew it was a done deal.
“I-“
He was going to protest, unsure if that was something you were ready for. He wanted to push you to heal but he didn’t want to push so hard that he broke boundaries, and he feared this was teetering the line.
“Please.”
It was desperate, real and raw as you practically begged, eyes filling with tears at the sheer emotion of just needing him closer.
His hand came to cradle the side of your face and he nodded, he’d agree to do anything if it meant you wouldn’t cry.
“Shh, okay. Okay, baby.”
Baby.
He pulled your body up so you were more situated in his lap, facing him instead of straining your neck away from the TV.
He brought his lips to yours delicately, not daring to tease, and you choked back a sob at the feeling of his lips on yours.
Jack, your Jack.
You wrapped your arms around his neck as the kiss deepened, his other hand coming up to clasp the back of your neck, lips working against yours like it was the most natural thing in the world, the two of you desperate to pull each other impossibly closer.
His wife.
He pulled back, leaving one last chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away from you, breathless and lips swollen as he continued to hold you.
“You took me where we had our first date.”
“Yeah.” His voice shook. “Yeah, I did.”
-
The next few weeks were exactly like that. Almost like a honeymoon phase. Stolen kisses in the aisles of the grocery store, playing Beatles records while you made breakfast together, and watching all of your favorite movies to end your nights. You were starting to fall head over heels for him and as much as it scared you it excited you even more.
Jack had taken sabbatical so he could stay with you longer, and everyday you were more and more in awe of him and less and less upset about learning why it all ended, the two of you working through the negative feelings that came up as you drew closer, growing in deeper understanding of one another.
And the day the actual memory came back to you, you wished none of your memory even came back at all.
Jack had left for the store that morning, insisting you stay home because of the small headache you’d been complaining about, he said the fluorescents would only make it worse. Once you finally wandered out of your room after he left, you saw something perfectly placed on the kitchen island, propped up next to the most recent flowers Jack had given you.
The backside of a photograph with messy handwriting scrawled across it, written in blue ink. Jack had come across it while he was reorganizing some of your things and the photo and the note he'd scrawled on the back made him smile, he thought maybe you'd want to see it too. He had no idea the ugly ties you had with that specific photograph.
It read, “Since the first time I saw you, I have belonged to you completely.”
You turned the photo around and a gasp got caught in your throat.
The picture was of you and Jack, your arms thrown around his shoulders, a big smile stretched across your face as you looked at the camera, Jack’s arms wrapped around your waist as he looked at you. You were both standing on the street, you were wearing a long white dress and Jack was in a black button down and jeans.
White dress.
This was your wedding day.
Your stomach was in knots as you stared, memories starting to push through the dam in your brain and you slammed the picture on the countertop, twisting your eyes shut and trying to will the memories to go away.
Crying, glass piercing into your knees, the picture lying on the floor surrounded by ruin.
Jack yelling, you screaming, throwing things, empty threats cutting through the air.
“I’m not doing this with you anymore.”
“So what is it? Me or the ER.”
Silence.
“And if I choose the ER?”
“Then you’ve ruined our marriage.”
Jack disappearing out the door, his mind made up.
Your hand clutched your chest as your breaths came out uneven and rapid, crying and clawing at the material of your shirt.
“Oh my god.”
Jack dropped the bags at the front door, running to get to you and trying to push the panic down when he realizes you’re already deep in it.
Your hands clutched the kitchen island, muscles shaking from the force you were using and tears were relentless, marring the skin of your cheeks and rolling down your neck. Jack tried to pull you away but you weren’t budging, he could easily move you if he wanted to but he didn’t want to startle you or make things worse.
“Sweetheart.”
His hand gripped your wrist, the other coming to rest on the back of your head.
“I’m here. Breathe. Breathe for me.”
You continued to cry, but at the sound of the desperation in his voice, you crumbled, top half bending over the kitchen island, your forehead resting on your arms.
Jack felt helpless as he watched you fall apart, none of his normal tactics seemed to be working and he was seriously wondering if he should take you to PTMC.
“Baby, please.”
You were choking so much on your own breath and sobs that Jack was seriously worried, so much so that he ditched the gentle approach, pulling your body off of the counter top and grasping your wrists in his hands, guiding you backwards until your back hit the counter and his body caged you in.
“You’re not breathing. Breathe.” His voice was stern, face hard and serious even though you still refused to open your eyes.
“I remember-“
You opened your eyes then, starting to be in pain from screwing them shut so tightly. “I remember you leaving.”
He thought telling you was bad, you remembering it crushed him to pieces.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He pulled you against him then. “Sweetheart.”
He cradled you to his chest, letting you cry but reminding you to breathe as you did.
“I don’t want to remember that!”
“Me neither.” Jack confessed, wanting to press a kiss to your hairline but not wanting to overstep, knowing this was incredibly fragile for you.
“I want it to be just us again. Just us with happy memories.”
Jack ached because that’s all he wanted too. But he knew better than anyone that with falling in love came all of the ugly stuff. Part of love was loving despite hurt.
“I wish that’s how it worked.”
Jack wasn’t sure how much time passed, him holding you like that. It could’ve been minutes or hours, but it was long enough for you to stop crying and for him to start humming as he swayed you back and forth. Long enough for your voice to be hoarse when you finally did speak again.
“Jack?”
“Hmm?’
You surprised yourself with the words you spoke next, despite the suffocating pain of your newest memory, the words that tumbled from your lips were all you felt.
“I love you.”
-
You had a checkup with Emery at PTMC, and you were beaming from ear to ear with her satisfaction with your progress. From the past year of your recovery and Jack living with you, sleeping in your bed again, being your partner again, Emery estimated you had nearly 80% of your memories back, and they were still coming steadily. She even predicted that you’d have 100% of your memories back if you stayed on the course you were on now.
Life felt easy again, you thought you loved Jack without your memories, but with each one that came back you found that you somehow loved him more, even with the bad ones, not even knowing you even had the capacity to love another human being that much.
Jack decided that was cause for celebration, and invited his friends, now your friends, over for a barbecue at your house, together.
Your friends had tried reaching out, too little too late. Spilling excuses about husbands and kids and work. You’d assured them they were forgiven, but they just weren’t welcome in your life anymore, not that you were ever really that close anyway. Despite the ugliness and the pain and the devastation, you had fallen in love again. You had a family again.
You were in the backyard, making sure all of your roses were facing the sun, when you nearly fell over Jack as you walked backwards to make sure they were all looking their best before you expected company.
You turned to find him on one knee and the breath nearly knocked out of you as your hand shot up to cover your mouth that hung open, your hand gripped into the skin of his shoulder as he looked up at you on one knee, a small black box in his hands, and a delicate diamond ring placed in the center of it.
“Hi, baby.”
Your eyes moved from the ring to his, and you noticed how nervous he was. The corners of his mouth twitched and his eyebrows furrowed, just the slightest bit, eyes misted over with tears.
“Hi.” You whispered, but it was barely audible over your hand that was clasped over your mouth.
“Over the past year, I’ve had the pleasure of doing something not everyone gets to do.” Jack cleared his throat, “Falling in love with the love of my life, for a second time. I almost lost you and I-" His breath sputtered as tears swelled at his waterline, "I was given a second chance with you and i don't want to waste it."
Something in your heart splintered as he referred to the last year as something sweet, a privilege, instead of something you both wished deep down had never happened. You’d never thought about it that way, and suddenly you were overcome with thankfulness for it too. A second chance.
You dropped to your knees in front of him, one hand wrapped around his wrist and the other held onto the side of his face. You looked at him with so much love in your eyes Jack thought he might break, he thought he’d never get to see that again.
“I love you.” You spoke, breathless.
“I’m so in love with you.”
He turned his face and pressed his shaky lips to the palm of your hand, letting them linger there for a moment as he leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed before bringing his gaze back to you. A single tear ran down his face and smeared itself into your hand.
“Will you marry me?” He paused, a small smile playing at his lips, “Again?”
You just threw your arms round his neck, nearly knocking him over into the grass he hugged you back.
You pulled away, hands finding his cheeks and lips peppering kisses all over his face.
“Yes, yes, yes. 1000x forever, yes.”
Jack laughed through his tears and took the ring out of the box, pulling your left hand away from his face so he could slip it onto your ring finger, the diamond caught the sun and shone so brilliantly you thought you’d never take your eyes off of it.
“I think there may be a white dress for you to change into on our bed upstairs...” Jack said, feigning oblivion. “Might wanna put it on before the engagement party.”
-
After a night of just pure sweetness, all the girls fawning over your ring, bone crushing hugs from Robby and Dana once you worked up the courage with a little push from Jack to tell them both that you remembered them, too much food and stolen glances between you and Jack across your yard, he carried you upstairs to bed with whispered promises of cleaning up tomorrow.
“My bride.” He cooed as he set you down on the bed, his thumb running over the diamond on your finger.
“I love you.” You hummed. “Gonna lose my memory again just so I can fall in love with you even harder, again.”
“You are so terrible.” Jack reprimanded but he stifled a laugh before he pressed a kiss to your cheekbone.
“That’s just how much I love you.” You shrugged, humor laced through your tone and Jack loved it because it was real and you were here and he would go through it a thousand more times with you if it meant getting to where you were now.
"What a blessing in disguise that you were still my emergency contact." You said.
"Yeah, how'd that happen?"
"Never changed it."
Jack looked puzzled.
You swallowed, thick with emotion, "I knew you'd always come."
Jack buried his face into your shoulder, pressing kisses into your skin there and all the way down your arm, torn apart with fondness at your words.
“I'm never gonna stop falling in love with you." He confessed in a whisper against the soft skin on the inside of your arm.
“Fall in love again and again forever?" You asked, voice incredibly soft as you admired the man who was hopelessly lost in you.
"Til' the end of time, baby."
