Summary: For @spookypeachpitt13's Fall For You 2025 Meet-Cute Collab! Jack Abbot's wife is an organ donor. Years later, one of the recipients of her organs reaches out.
A/N: This idea came to me as I checked off the organ donor box on my new driver's license! Not sure how it hadn't occurred to me before now! I would label this as bittersweet angsty fluff. Baby McKay makes an appearance!
Stephanie Abbot is dead. More accurately, she’s brain-dead. Jack Abbot, her husband, is very aware that there is no difference. He’s very aware that he’s not getting her back. He’s very aware that she’ll never open her eyes for him again.
“Dr. Abbot, I can’t imagine how hard this must be. Steph had it on her license that she was an organ donor.” Emma Isaacs told him as he sat in the family room. His hands gripping his curls.
“I…I know.” He shutters.
“Jack. She’d want this to happen. You know that.” She told him.
“I know. I know! I fucking know her better than you! Better than anyone!” He growled, tears streaming down his face.
“You do. No one doubts that. But I have a woman upstairs that is knocking on death's door and Steph's heart is going to save her. I need you to make the call.” She stood up. “Please, don’t wait too long.” She left the room.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Jack flipped the table. He started trashing the whole room. Throwing anything that wasn’t nailed down.
“Shit.” Robby’s voice broke him from his fugue state.
Jack stood in the middle of the room, furniture and paper and glass shattered around him. His face was beet read and tearstained, his chest heaved with each breath as his hands shook.
“Tell Emma to go ahead.” Jack said, his face setting into a stone façade.
“Are you su-”
“She wanted it. She’s gone. She’d want to help people one last time.” Jack huffed.
He wasn’t sure how long he had sat on the wall outside the ambulance bay. He had meant to go home, but the thought of going into that house without Steph made him want to vomit. So, without any other obvious options, he sat on the wall.
“Jack. I thought you left.” Emma’s voice shook him back to the present.
“I…I don’t want to go home.” He mumbled. Emma hung her head. What could anyone say? Nothing would fix this.
“That woman got her heart.” Emma adjusted her bag on her shoulder.
“What?” Jack looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot and face sunken.
“Steph’s heart went to that woman upstairs. They’re doing the transplant right now. Normally, they’d have transferred both of them to the transplant center. But the woman wasn’t stable enough to move, they came here to do it.” Emma said.
“They’re doing it now?”
“Yeah, OR 4 I think. One of the ones with an observation deck.” Emma nodded.
Jack bolted from the wall. He burst into the building looking like a madman. The whole department watched him run to the elevators. They watched as he fought his prosthetic to move faster.
He exploded out of the elevator and down the halls to the OR 4 observation deck. When he entered with a slam of the door, all the med students and residents looked at him, shocked.
“Get out.” He barked.
“Dr. Abbot, this is a teach-”
“That’s my wife’s heart! Get out! I don’t fucking care!” He bellowed. They didn’t move.
“Guys, give him the room. Come on, we can watch the recording later.” One of the med students, McKay he thinks her name is, said as she started gathering her things. He had recognized her from a few shifts.
“The recording isn’t the same.” Someone grumbled.
“Have some fucking compassion, you’re all fucking vultures! He just lost his wife. Get your ass up and get out.” She ordered. The students begrudgingly got up and trickled out.
“Thank you.” Jack stopped McKay.
“I hope someone would show me this kind of compassion if I was you. Let me know if you need anything.” She smiled and walked out.
Jack sat watching them open this random woman’s chest. She was a stranger. He didn’t know what her name was, didn’t know what her face looked like. He watched her blood spill on to the floor and wondered if she had a husband panicking somewhere. If she had family terrified they would never see her again in some sterile waiting room.
The heart was wheeled in.
“Fuck…” He put his head in his hands.
The sight of his wife’s heart made it final. She was gone. He was alone. He’d never hold her again. He’d never hear her laugh or sing her terrible disco songs on Sunday mornings while she made cinnamon rolls. He’d never feel her freezing cold feet on his calves in their bed.
He watched them place the heart in the woman’s chest. They connected everything together, all the tubes pumping blood through her body, now trying to pump through her new heart.
“Come on.” Jack begged the heart. They all waited for the heart to start pumping.
“Please!” Jack slammed his fist on the armrest.
The heart started beating of its own accord. He sobbed into his hands. He was thankful it wasn’t all for nothing. He was desperate for anything to keep his feet on the ground.
“Transplant successful.” One of the surgeons said.
“Good job, Steph.” Jack whispered.
The years went by, and Jack would often think about that woman. He never met her. He didn’t think it would have been good for either of them to meet in their respective states. She needed to have a life unburdened by his grief. He still couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to her, especially on days he missed Steph.
He was going about his shift like normal. He was doing his best to keep Whitaker from being covered in another bodily fluid. That boy was like a magnet for piss.
“Dr. Abbot? Do you have a minute?” Emma came up to him.
“Sure.” He nodded, following her to a secluded hallway. He was slightly confused; none of his patients were organ transplant candidates. He hardly saw her otherwise.
“I have been contacted by Miss Burns.” Emma said, trying to be as sensitive as possible.
“Who is that?” Jack crossed his arms, brows furrowed.
“Christine Burns received Steph’s heart.” Emma sighed.
Jack knew what a bomb going off felt like. He knew what that impact did to the human body. He would say that sentence was about as close to a bomb going off as he had experienced in Pittsburgh.
“What does she want?” Jack cleared his throat; it was suddenly very hard to swallow.
“She wants to meet you. She wants to know Steph. It’s not uncommon for transplant patients, especially heart recipients, to feel this way. Someone else’s organ is in their body. It can be heady.” Emma explained.
“It’s been years. Why now?” Jack rubbed his eyes.
“I don’t know exactly, but my best guess is she tried to move on without bothering you.” Emma watched him like he was going to break in front of her.
“I…I don’t know.” Jack sighed. “How would it work anyway?”
“If you wanted to, I could give her your information or vice versa. This is just a courtesy we offer people. It wouldn’t be overseen by anyone. You’d do this on your own, no therapists or anything.” She said.
Jack bit his lip as he thought. He wanted to scream no and run away. He wanted to say yes, just for the opportunity to hear Steph’s heart again. Everything felt wrong.
“Okay. Give her my info. Tell her not to call during the morning.” Jack sniffed and walked off before he could change his mind.
He had expected a phone call the next day, but it didn’t come. His phone was silent for a week. Maybe she had changed her mind. Part of him was happy she had, another part was disappointed.
He was finishing his charts as the day shift rolled in. He stretched his back out, rubbing his neck as the exhaustion settled into his bones.
“Did good last night.” Robby nodded as he sat down.
“I do good every night.” Jack smirked.
They went over the patients still waiting for beds and the ones in need of discharge soon. He was about to leave, his bag slung over his shoulder.
“Dr. Abbot?” A woman approached him, looking timid. She couldn’t be older than thirty-eight.
“How can I help you?” he sighed, annoyed that he had been stopped before he could even make it out of the building.
“Sorry. You’re probably going home. I didn’t mean to come here. I just needed to see what you looked like and then I couldn’t stop myself.” The woman shook her head.
“Not really sure what’s going on here.” Jack furrowed his brows.
“Right, sorry! My name is Christine Burns. I am-”
“I know who you are.” Jack interrupted.
“I shouldn’t have come to your work. But…it felt so impersonal to just call you.” She looked uncomfortable. Jack could see the scar peeking out of the collar of her shirt.
“I guess that makes sense.” Jack took a deep breath. “I’m leaving now. Why don’t we go get breakfast? There’s a diner around the corner.”
“Okay. Sure. I’ll wait outside.” She nodded and left.
“What the fuck was that?” Robby asked.
“Jack, you got a fan or something?” Dana chuckled.
“She has Steph’s heart. My wife’s heart is beating in her chest.” Jack leaned over the desk, gripping the edge with white knuckles. “Fuck…” he tried to breathe.
“Oh shit.” Robby gasped.
“Jack…you sure you can handle this?” Dana put a hand on his shoulder.
“No. But she deserves to ask her questions.” Jack cleared his throat and straightened himself up.
“Just…remember it wasn’t her fault.” Dana said, her voice quiet as if she were calming a scared cat.
“I know.” Jack walked off.
Christine was standing, hopping from one foot to the other. She had a nervous energy that was hard for Jack to digest.
“Ready?” Jack asked as he walked up. She jumped about ten feet in the air.
“Yep!” She smiled. Jack cracked a smile at her anxious demeanor.
“I was expecting a call a week ago.” Jack said.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Christine sighed.
“You apologize a lot.” Jack watched her like a researcher watched lab rats. Trying to understand her.
“I get that a lot. Childhood trauma stuff is what my therapist says.” She shrugged.
“Everyone has childhood trauma these days.” Jack snorted.
“Well, we’re learning more about it. That’s probably why it seems like it’s everywhere.” She said.
“Yeah, I guess.” Jack opened the door for her. “My booth is over here.” He led her toward the back of the diner.
“You come here a lot then.” Christine took note.
“I don’t always like to go straight home. The waiters here are quiet and leave me alone for the most part.”
“Jack! Oh! A friend today. That’s a nice change of pace.” A older woman with grey hair wrapped in a bun on her head.
“Yep. This is Christine.” Jack nodded.
“Hi, Christine. I’m Annie. What can I get you?” The waitress had a warm smile that seemed to settle Christine a little.
“Do you have pomegranate juice?”
“We do. I’ll get you a big glass. Any coffee?”
“No, thank you.” Christine smiled.
“Coffee, please,” Jack grunted.
“Yeah, yeah. I know what you want.” Annie waved him off. Jack laughed. “Any food, Hun?”
“Um, scrambled egg whites and fruit?”
“You got it. Keeping healthy, good for you.” Annie gave her shoulder a pat and walked off.
“So…what do you want to know?” Jack sighed.
“Right into. Okay.” Christine gave a nervous laugh. “I’ve been wondering about her ever since they told me I was getting a heart. The transplant team was so good at their jobs, but wouldn’t stop to tell me anything. I know it’s HIPPA and stuff. But I didn’t know it was a woman until about a month ago. I made up so many different people in my head. Something always told me it was a woman, I don’t know why. It just feels like something a woman would do, give a stranger their heart.” She said.
“You want to know about her?” Jack asked.
“I want to know anything you’re willing to tell me.” Christine had this light in her eyes that made Jack’s chest feel warm.
“Here ya go, you two.” Annie set the drink in front of them.
“Thank you.” They both said.
“I’ll be back with those plates in a bit.” Annie nodded and walked off.
“You actually like that stuff?” Jack asked as Christine sipped her juice.
“Yes, it’s good for your heart. I’ve been taking good care of it.” Christine nodded. Jack hung his head for a moment. A simple sentence that made his body feel like jello.
“Where do you want to start?” Jack took a swig of his coffee as if it were whiskey.
“Her name?”
“Steph. Stephanie. Stephanie Calliope Graham, when I met her. She took my name when we married. She hated her dad.” Jack was trying very hard to keep steady.
“Same.” Christine snorted.
“She hated being called by her full name. It was always Steph. She hated artificial nicknames. If anyone tried to give her one, they were corrected.” Jack chuckled at the memory.
“You never gave her one?”
“No. She was always Steph. I barely used pet names with her. She was okay with Honey. But that was it. She hated ‘Doll’. She had a boyfriend in high school who would call her that. She said it reminded her of how men used to use their wives as playthings. Can’t say she’s wrong.” Jack shrugged.
“What was her job?”
“She was a Physical Therapist. She was my physical therapist.” Jack smiled.
“Really? That’s, like, kind of scandalous.” Christine giggled.
“Yeah. I came back from getting my leg blown off for Uncle Sam and hating everyone and everything. She came in to my appointment like a ball of sunshine and dirty jokes, and I knew it was over. I transferred to a different therapist after a week. Took her out to a drive-in movie for our first date. Thought it would be good, be distracted if it wasn’t going well, make out if it was.” Jack was letting himself revel in the memories. He hadn’t let that happen in a while.
“So, she liked helping people. Like you?”
“No. She loved it. I like medicine, I don’t dislike helping people. It’s just a byproduct of my job.” Jack sipped his coffee.
“Why does that feel like you’re lying to yourself?” Christine eyed him up and down.
“Are you a therapist or something?” Jack asked.
“I’m a social worker. I work with displaced kids, mostly. These days, they have me all over the place.” Christine sat up, proud of her profession.
“Gotta be hard to be around kids with a heart like that.”
“I wear a mask most of the time. I explain it to them, and they tend to understand. They love coming up and telling me about how much better they are at cleaning up, so I don’t get sick. It’s cute.” Christine smiled.
“Sounds cute.” Annie awed as she put the plates down. “Let me know if you need anything.” She waltzed off.
“Did you have kids?” Christine asked, venturing into deeper territory.
“No. Steph didn’t want them, I can’t have them. It worked out for us. Our work was our kid.”
“So you wanted them a little?”
“What?”
“Well, you said she didn’t want them, but you couldn’t. You didn’t say you didn’t want them.” Christine shrugged as she ate her eggs.
“I guess there was a time I entertained the thought. But after I came back, it didn’t seem right. Then Steph didn’t want them, and then she died. I stopped thinking about them a long time ago.” Jack sighed as he ate his pancakes.
“What was the wedding like?” Christine asked.
“Small. Neither of us had a lot of family. We got married in the backyard. We made Robby get ordained.”
“Who is Robby?”
“Sorry, he’s the other doctor who was next to me. We met in residency. He got me the job at PTMC.”
“I like that. Small, intimate. I hate big weddings. They feel like a performance. I guess there isn’t anything wrong with that.” Christine rolled her eyes. “What did she look like in her dress?”
“A goddess. I’ve never seen anything more magnificent in my life.” Jack dug his wallet from his bag, pulling the small picture of them on their wedding day and handing it to Christine.
“This is her?” Christine asked, her fork clattering on the plate as she took the picture.
“Yeah. She thought she should dye her hair for the wedding. I told her that she had better not. I loved her red hair.” Jack smiled, his pancakes abandoned.
“She’s beautiful.” Christine sniffled. “Sorry…” She handed the picture back and wiped her eyes with a napkin.
“It’s okay. I can’t imagine what this is like for you.” Jack tucked the picture away.
“This is better than all the wondering. I’m glad you agreed to talk.” Christine took a deep breath.
“Can I ask you some questions?” Jack sat up.
“Of course.” Christine pushed her plate aside.
“How old were you when you got the transplant?” Jack leaned forward.
“32. I had cardiomyopathy. I got a bad infection when I was doing work with Doctors Without Borders. They had a program for social workers to go and help kids deal with being in war. I spent a year in the South Sudan. I thought I had just come down with some traveler's cold or something. But it never went away. Came home and went to the doctor. They said it was just a cold. Didn’t really care. I passed out walking to the store. Woke up in Presby ED and a cardiologist telling me my heart was failing.” Christine said, her voice shaking.
“Fuck. That’s fucked up.” Jack shook his head.
“Yeah. I was circling the drain when they told me they had a heart for me. They wouldn’t tell me what happened for me to get a heart, but I knew it was terrible.” Christine hung her head.
“Drunk driver,” Jack answered her unasked question. “Steph and her friends were going out to celebrate one of their birthdays. They didn’t notice the alcohol on the Uber driver's breath; they were having fun in the back seat. He didn’t notice the red light. She was the only one who died.” Jack sipped his coffee, still angry at the memory.
“That’s awful.” Christine wiped her eyes again.
“Yeah.” Jack sighed. “I…I got a request, and you can say no; it won’t hurt my feelings. But…I have my stethoscope, could I listen? Could I hear her heart again?” Jack felt his throat tightening.
“I was going to offer. Do you want to do it here, though?” Christine asked, worried about how private it felt.
“Good point.”
“My apartment is a few blocks away. We can go there if you want?” Christine offered.
“Sure. Okay.” Jack nodded as he threw money on the table and got up.
The walk to her apartment was silent. It was the kind of silence that felt like a warm breeze; it felt like understanding someone and being understood for the first time.
“I used…I used to fall asleep on her chest a lot. I have some PTSD stuff, and I needed to hear her heart to feel like everything was okay enough to sleep.” Jack muttered as they entered the apartment.
“It must have been hard to sleep without her.” Christine sat on the couch.
“I still don’t sleep. That’s why I stay on night shift.” Jack sat on the edge of the couch.
“Ready when you are.” Christine unbuttoned her shirt a little, her scar more visible.
“Okay.” Jack took a deep breath. He pulled his stethoscope from his bag; it suddenly felt like it weighed twenty pounds. He put the earpieces in and put the bell to her chest. The deep thump of the heart that was taken from his wife rushed through him. He couldn’t stop the emotions; the tears sprang forth like a fountain.
Christine put her hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry…” Jack sobbed.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” Christine hummed.
“Thank you. Thank you for taking care of her heart.” Jack took a deep breath as he put the stethoscope away.
“Of course. It’s the greatest gift I’ll ever receive.” Christine swiped the tears from her cheeks. “I have something for you.” She got up and ran to another room. Jack buried his face in his hands. She was kind and funny. She was not what he was expecting.
Christine came running back in with a card in her hand.
“I wasn’t sure how to present this; it’s kind of awkward.” She shrugged as she handed it to him.
Jack opened the card, a simple heart on the cover, to find a CD and an ultrasound picture.
“I have to get cardio ultrasounds a lot. I thought you’d like to see it. The CD is the sound of my heart-her heart beating. That way, you don’t have to call me to hear it. But you can, if you need to.” Christine said.
Jack stared at the picture, overcome with gratitude that the person who had his wife’s heart was good. Not just nice, but a good person who wanted to be good. He launched himself at Christine, wrapping his arms around her.
“You have no idea what you’ve given me.” He murmured.
“I’m here if you need anything, Dr. Abbot,” Christine said.
“Jack, just Jack, Christine.” He pulled himself together.
“Chris.”
“Chris.” Jack chuckled. “I’m going to go get some sleep. Thank you for this. Maybe I can sleep better.” He smiled and left the apartment.
He stood on the street, taking in gulps of air to steady himself.
“You fucking did that shit on purpose.” He said to the sky. “I don’t know how, but you did.” He chuckled as he started walking home.
MY DRAWING TABLET WAS PACKED AWAY CAUSE I LEAVE TOWN TOMORROW BUT FUCK. I NEEDED TO PULL IT OUT I AM SO SORRY SEBASTIAN NO IT WASN’T ON PURPOSE I AM SO SORRY I THOUGHT ID HELP HIM (<— fell for the oldest trick in the book (the rescue button))
Hah, so this drawing’s dated Nov 2024 when me and my friend first found painter. We had only been playing pressure for maybe.. a month? And she said that sebastian “seemed like the kind of guy to leave painter behind”, which immediately made me so sad and so fucking depressed cause I disagreed wholeheartedly lmaoo
[Transcription of it since my handwriting’s crap lmao:
My expendable: Pleaseeeee don’t forget himmmm, my friend said you would and now I’m sad :(((
Painter: Hi seb!!! :DD
Sebastian: YOU BROUGHT HIM?!?!??
End transc.]
..Hate to say this is also accurate to if I bring him to his shop now, I am scared to touch painter again.
