babydoll ⊹ ࣪ ˖
jack abbot x younger!fem!reader 🏹🩺
“Fuck,” Jack muttered under his breath, watching your hands slowly stop their compressions on the man laying in the cot. The beeping on the EKG slowly came to a stop, now flat-lining. Your hands went limp, resting at your sides. The look in your bambi eyes was sorrowful, eyebrows furrowing just slightly. You took a shaky breath in while Dr. Robby called out, “Time of death, 6:27 PM, Cardiac arrest.”
Everyone in the room stands around quietly, taking a moment of silence for the death of this patient, while you mournfully stood next to the bed, tears pooling in your eyes. When Ogilvie attempts to leave the room, Dennis stops him quickly. “Uh— we actually stay for a brief pause of reflection, to respect our patient.” He spoke gently, which made the blonde step back into his place, holding his hands in front of him.
After the minute of silence, everyone stepped out of the room, getting back to their other patients— except for you and Jack. He stood hesitantly at the door, though, not knowing if he should leave you. But the pit in his stomach at the sight of you told him otherwise.
Jack stepped a bit closer to you, noticing your clear, gloomy expression. “Hey, traumas like that? They hit hard.” He spoke in a gentle, yet firm tone. “Even on the good days.” He added, watching you stand there and not speak, wondering if he should continue talking or give you a couple minutes alone. “Y/N, talk to me, please.”
You remained silent, not daring to speak, because you knew if you did, you’d end up in sobs and embarrassing yourself in front of Jack. “I uh.. I just— I knew him.” You spoke quietly, wiping the smeared blood off of your cheek, which did nothing more than just spread it to your jaw.
Jack’s face falters slightly. He swallowed and gave you his full attention. “You did? How?” His brows knitted together, watching you slide down the wall to the floor. He slid down beside you, eyes fixated on yours.
“He would uh.. He would come here a lot.” You nodded to yourself, your hands rubbing up and down your scrubs in a soothing manner. “His son died here, last year.” You swallowed. Jack’s face softened in an instant.
“I tried my best to save him. But I couldn’t. I failed his son, and now—” You cut yourself off, feeling a lump in your throat. “I failed him.” You croaked out, voice quavering.
“Hey, hey, hey,” He quickly scooted closer to you. His hand found yours, thumb gently running over your knuckles. “Y/N, you did everything you could back there. Don’t blame yourself, this is not on you.” He tried to reassure you as best as he could, but you weren’t having it. You shook your head repeatedly, tears rolling down your cheeks. “It’s all my fault—”
“Don’t say that— Hey,” he interrupted, wrapping both arms firmly around your trembling body. His fingers ran through your hair gently, chin resting atop your head. “You did everything you could back there, Y/N. Everything.” Jack spoke softly.
Your hands reached up and gripped his scrubs, giving you some sense of comfort. Salty tears wet his neck while your face was buried in the crook of it, but he didn’t care whatsoever. The only thing he cared about was making you feel safe in these troubled moments.
You’d never been well at handling the death of your patients, but this death specifically hit harder than all the others. Memories of you and P/N ran through your head on loop, like it was some black and white film from the 50s. You knew the guilt trip would leave you paralyzed in bed for days.
The room was filled with silence other than your sobs that made Jack’s heart ache more and more by the minute. He’d whisper little, soft reassurances every moment or so.
“You’re okay.”
“Don’t blame yourself.”
“I’m here.”
His touch was so achingly gentle, it made you feel all fluttery in the stomach. Fluttery in a way you couldn’t quite explain, but it definitely wasn’t your main concern at the moment.
After a few minutes of lying there in his arms, he spoke quietly, still not pulling away. “You okay?” his fingers stayed grazing your arm in a soothing manner. When you nodded slightly, he pulled away, just enough to catch a glimpse of your face.
He brought his hands up to your face and slowly wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. Jack’s hands slowly fell down to your cheeks, cupping them. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” He assured, giving a small smile along with a nod.
You nodded back slowly. “I know.”
“You gonna be okay today? If you want to leave, I can cover your—”
You cut him off. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I don’t need to leave.” You spoke in a quiet tone. “I think I just need to get back to work— take my mind off of things.”
Jack nodded. “Of course.” He coaxed, thumb still gently rubbing along your wet cheekbone. “If anything happens, you know where to find me, yeah?”
“Yes, I will come and find you if anything goes wrong.” You nodded, jokingly reassuring him. He smiled softly.
“Alright,” he whispered and gave you one last smile before standing up, stepping out the bathroom quietly, leaving you there on the floor alone with your thoughts.