synopsis: Jack knows what love feels like, knows he could never feel it again. His lungs beg to differ.
warnings/notes: Hanahaki AU and everything that entails. mentions of Jack's late wife. I'm kind of in love with this. Flangst, my beloved.
wc: 5.9k
Jack Abbot knew a great many things.
He knew how to trach in the field under active fire. He knew how to run an emergency department efficiently and effectively. He knew how to make an omelet and fix a sink and change the oil in his car. He knew what it felt like to lose the greatest thing he’d ever held and he knew what it felt like to love. Or so he believed until a random Tuesday in June.
It was nearing the end of his shift when Jack felt it again. That hitch in his breathing that signaled the arrival of a deep, rattling cough that he’d been dealing with for weeks now. He pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to muffle the sound. Just a lingering cold, he told himself. Or allergies maybe. Nothing some water and cough drops wouldn’t fix.
Except the tightness in his chest had gotten worse. And the cough drops weren’t doing a damn thing. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, it felt like an invisible band was squeezing his lungs. His voice had taken on a rougher edge and he’d start wheezing if he tried to say more than few words at a time.
“You look like shit,” said a familiar voice behind him.
Jack turned to find Robby standing there, coffee in hand, ready to start his shift. “Good morning to you, too. Some of us have been up all night.”
Robby hummed. “And some of us are clearly coming down with something. Seriously, Jack, you don’t look good. Are you okay?”
Jack waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “Fine. Just a little under the weather.”
“Is that why you’re breathing like you just ran a marathon?” Robby took a step closer. “You’re wheezing and I’m not the only one that noticed. I got three texts from night shift.”
“It’s just a cold.” Jack tried to take a deep breath to prove his point but it caught in his throat, triggering another coughing fit. This one was worse than the others and had him gripping the edge of the counter for support.
When the coughing subsided, Robby’s gaze was stern. “That doesn’t sound like a cold to me.”
“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted, though the pain in his chest suggested otherwise. “Probably just moved to my chest is all.”
Robby sat his coffee down and crossed his arms. “That is not nothing. I want labs and a chest x-ray.”
“Christ, Mike. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m not asking, Jack. You’re a doctor. You know better than to ignore stuff like this.” His tone left no room for argument.
Jack recognized the look his friend was giving him. He wasn’t getting out of this. He sighed. “Fine. One x-ray. Then I’m going home to sleep.”
“Deal,” Robby said, already putting in the order for the portable chest x-ray into the system. He glanced at Dana who hadn’t even pretended she wasn’t listening.
“Eight’s open.”
“A room, man? Come on,” Jack complained but headed in that direction.
“Quit complaining,” Robby said as he trailed behind him, signaling the radiology tech with the machine to follow him. “Shirt off, Abbot.”
“Buy me dinner first,” Jack snarked even as he did as told. He laid down and the machine was positioned over the top of him.
“Take a deep breath and hold it,” Marcia the tech instructed.
The first time he attempted to follow instructions, he devolved into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” he apologized once he caught his breath.
“It’s fine. Just do the best you can.” The tech took three shots from different angles.
Robby slid on his glasses and stepped up to the machine while Jack put his t-shirt back on, forgoing the scrub top since his shift was over anyway.
“Let me guess. Nothing but a little inflammation. Can I go home now?”
“Leave us for a minute,” Robby said to Marcia, voice low.
Jack’s head snapped up, his gaze darting from his friend to the screen he was looking at and back again. “What is it?”
Robby turned the screen toward Jack so he could see for himself. Even from across the room, he could see the large white mass shadowing his right lung.
He swallowed hard. “That could be pneumonia. Or an abscess or something.”
“It could be,” Robby agreed but his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “I’ve sent it up to pulmonary.” His phone rang before he could say anything else. He glanced at the screen. “That was fast.”
Jack shifted his weight as he listened to Robby’s one-sided conversation with pulmonary. When he hung up, he turned to look at Jack.
“Dr. Tanaka wants to see you immediately.” He paused and looked at Jack as if the name should mean something to him. It didn’t. After a moment, Robby took a breath. “He’s sent an order to CT. You’re to report there and then head to his office.”
“Right now?” Jack’s voice was little more than a whisper. The words having to be forced past the lump in his throat. This was all happening too fast. One moment he’d been dismissing his persistent cough and the next he was being scheduled for immediate appointments with pulmonary. “It’s probably nothing. Just a weird artefact in the imaging or something,” he said more to himself than Robby.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Robby agreed, but the worry in his eyes said something else entirely. “But you’re going to get checked out thoroughly just to be sure.”
Within half an hour, Jack was laying on the table in a gown as the CT hummed around him. The contrast dye made him feel warm and vaguely nauseous, but it was nothing compared to the cold fear settling in his stomach.
The tech entered the room. “All finished. By the time you get changed and to his office, Dr. Tanaka should have the images.”
Jack cleared his throat. “That’s fast.”
“You’re a VIP patient today, Dr. Abbot.”
There was nothing Jack wanted to be less. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be doing this. He wanted to go home, go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.
He made his way to the pulmonary floor trying to prepare himself for whatever Dr. Tanaka might say. He’d delivered bad news to patients and their families plenty of times, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end since Mari died.
The waiting room was empty when he arrived, the early hour meaning most patients hadn’t arrived for the appointments yet. The receptionist smiled as he approached. “Dr. Abbot? Dr. Tanaka is ready for you. Third door on the right.”
Jack took a deep breath, or tried to, and headed down the hall. Whatever was waiting for him, he would face it like he did everything else. Head on. Even if, for the first time in years, he was truly afraid.
When he entered the room, Jack was surprised to find himself in an office instead of an exam room. Tanaka rose to greet him. “Dr. Abbot,” he held out a hand to shake Jack’s.
“Just Jack,” he said with a nod before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Very well. Jack, then.” Tanaka stayed standing and pressed a couple of buttons on his computer and the large screen behind him lit up with an image of what Jack assumed were his lungs. He pointed at the mass that seemed to branch out from the right lung. “Do you know what you’re looking at here?”
Jack studied the image noting the abnormal density, the way it seemed to branch through his lung tissue like the roots of a plant. The mass was larger than it had appeared in the x-ray, more defined.
Jack swallowed. “A tumor. Probably malignant given the irregularities and the rapid growth.” He’d seen the symptoms enough in his patients to recognize the pattern. The cough, the tight chest, the fatigue. Classic presentation for lung cancer.
Tanaka shook his head. “I had my suspicions from your x-ray but the CT confirms.” He used a finger to indicate several areas on the scan. “Do you see these fine lines extending from the main mass?”
Jack leaned forward. Now that the doctor pointed it out, he could see delicate lines spreading through his lung tissue. “Vascularization?” he guessed.
“Not exactly.” Tanaka took a seat at his desk. “What you’re seeing is consistent with the presentation of Hanahaki disease.”
Jack physically jerked back in his seat. That wasn’t… “That’s impossible. I want a second opinion.”
“You are certainly entitled to one, but I am the leading expert in Hanahaki in the state.” He wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact.
The look Robby had given him when he’d said the name suddenly made so much sense. “I’ve only ever loved my wife, and she’s dead. Has been for years.”
Jack had seen Hanahaki before, of course he had. The condition was rare and still not well understood. Unrequited love manifesting physically with the growth of flowers in the lungs. But it was something that happened to young romantics or the occasional middle-age yearner, not to someone like him. Not to an old, broken ER attending who’d buried his heart with his wife six years ago.
“I’m sorry, but the blood tests confirm.” He clicked on his screen and Jack’s results populated the screen.
Jack shook his head, unable to process what he was hearing. “Run more tests. There has to be a mistake.”
“Dr. Abbot, Jack, we can run additional tests, but given your symptoms and the findings, Hanahaki is our working diagnosis.” He paused, studying Jack’s face. “I suggest you do some soul searching. You’re in love whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue but another coughing fit seized him, doubling him over. His lungs burned as he struggled to draw breath. When it finally subsided, he was surprised to find Tanaka standing in front of him holding a tissue. Only when he took it did he understand why. Delicate pink petals filled his palm.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, staring at the evidence in his hand.
“That’s confirmation enough for me,” Dr. Tanaka said quietly. “The small petals are consistent with early stage Hanahaki. They’ll become larger and more numerous as the disease progresses, until you are expelling full blooms.”
Jack couldn’t tear his gaze away from the petals. Each one was perfect, like they’d been plucked from some unseen garden growing inside him. And he supposed in a way they had. “How long?” he managed to ask.
“Hard to say without knowing how fast it’s progressing. We’ll do another scan in a week and go from there.” Tanaka paused then added, “I assume you are aware of your options.”
Jack nodded once. “Surgery or…death.” He had to force the last word past his lips. He’d engaged in reckless behavior, volunteering for SWAT, standing on the edge of the roof while he thought about how easy it would be to just not have to deal with it all anymore. To not be alone every fucking day of his life. But now that the very real possibility of his death was looming in the shadows he suddenly found he didn’t want it.
“As you are aware, the surgery would remove any feelings for the person in question. You may forget them entirely though that is very rare. There is also always the possibility that the person you love will return your affections. Then no intervention would be needed,” Tanaka said, voice soft. “The matter would resolve on its own. It’s quite remarkable really.”
Jack looked down at the petals again. The idea that his body had somehow conjured flowers from a love he wasn’t even aware of seemed impossible. Yet the evidence was literally in his hand.
“You have a lot to think about,” Tanaka said, standing. “I’ll schedule another scan for next week and we can talk about options.”
“Thank you,” Jack said as he stood as well.
“You should take it easy until then. The coughing may worsen, particularly if you’re stressed or physically exerted. I’d recommend time off work.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jack said, but the thought of sitting alone at home with his thoughts was not one he wanted to contemplate at the moment.
Dr. Tanaka seemed to sense his turmoil. “This is a lot to process. Many patients find it helpful to talk to someone. A therapist or a family member. And I suggest a discussion with the person—”
“There is no person,” Jack cut him off sharply. “My wife has been dead for six years. There’s been no one since.”
The other man didn’t argue, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see you next week. Call if you have any questions or concerns before then.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Jack turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. In the hall, he pressed his back against the wall. He took the deepest breath he had since entering the office. The tightness in his chest reminded him of the flowers blooming where they had no right to be.
Love.
The word echoed in his head. He’d buried that part of himself when Mari died. The idea that his body had somehow betrayed him, had grown flowers for someone else…It was too much. He couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t.
He pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator. One foot in front of the other. That’s how he’d gotten through the worst days after Mari’s death and that’s how he would get through this.
Jack made it back to the ER on autopilot, his mind still reeling. Day shift was in full swing. Jack just stood for a minute, trying to orientate himself, feeling oddly disconnected from the familiar chaos.
“Jack!”
He turned to find Robby hurrying toward him. His face was creased with worry, eyes scanning Jack’s features as if searching for visible changes.
“Well? What did he say?”
Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. How did he possibly explain he was coughing up petals for someone he was supposedly in love with? It was stupid. Ridiculous. And just the sort of thing that would happen to him. Of course it was.
“It’s not possible,” he finally forced out. “It’s not…Mike, I…” His voice cracked, another cough building in his chest.
“Okay, okay,” Robby said, his tone shifting from urgent to soothing. “Let’s sit down, huh? You look like you’re about ready to fall over.”
Before Jack could protest, Robby led him through the department toward the breakroom. He deposited him in a chair at one of the tables, then turned to fill a cup with water. “Here, drink,” he instructed as he sat it in front of Jack.
Jack obeyed mechanically, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat. The simple act centered him somewhat, anchoring him to the present moment.
Robby pulled out a chair and sat down. “Now, what did Tanaka say?”
Jack stared at the cup in his hands. “Hanahaki,” he said finally.
“Shit. I thought it might be when they said Tanaka wanted to see you.” Robby sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “He’s the best, so there’s that at least.”
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, man. I haven’t been in love with anyone since Mari died.”
An expression he couldn’t place flicked across Robby’s face before shifting to disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
Jack frowned. “What’s with the tone? Why are you making it sound like I’m stupid?”
“Because you are,” Robby said without hesitation. When Jack just stared at him, Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” Jack demanded, irritation briefly overriding his confusion.
Your name was the only thing that left Robby’s lips.
Jack blinked and repeated it like a question. Like your face hadn’t just appeared in his brain. Like he didn’t instantly think about your smile, hear your laugh.
“Yes!” Robby threw his hands up in exasperation. “The woman you’ve been staring at with a besotted expression for the past eight months? The one you look for anytime you enter the department? The one whose coffee order you have memorized?”
No, no. That couldn’t be right. “But she’s—”
“Brilliant,” Robby stated. “Funny. Kind. Beautiful. Should I continue to list off everything you said to me the last time we went out? You talked about her all night, man.”
“I mean…I respect her.” The words felt inadequate even as he said them. Images of you flashed through his mind. The way you laughed at your own jokes even if no one else did, how you always remembered small details about people, that furrow that appeared between your brows when you were concentrating.
“She’s dedicated,” he continued. “Compassionate. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she’s never mean about it. And she’s…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he could continue talking about you for the rest of the day.
“She’s what?” Robby prompted, a knowing look on his face.
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t love her. I can’t.”
“Why not? Because you loved Mari? Loving someone else doesn’t erase what you had with her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jack argued, though he couldn’t have explained why if someone pressed.
“It actually is,” Robby replied, not unkindly. “You loved your wife. She died and it broke you. For a long time, I wasn’t certain you’d ever put yourself back together. But you have. And against all odds you found someone who makes you feel something again. Instead of being grateful, instead of grasping it with both hands, you’re literally making yourself sick denying it.”
“It’s not…I haven’t—”
“You have,” Robby interrupted. “Everyone knows you’re in love with her except you and her, apparently.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Just think about it, okay? Really think about it.”
As if on cue, another coughing fit seized Jack, this one stronger than the last. He doubled over, hand braced against the table as his chest contracted painfully. When it finally subsided, he found his palm filled with more petals, the edges tinged with blood.
“Holy shit.” Robby stared at the evidence in front of him.
Jack closed his hand around the petals, as if hiding them from view would make them cease to exist. “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.” He pushed himself to his feet. The room titled slightly, his vision blurring at the edges.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” Robby said standing as well, typing on his phone. “Let me have someone run you home.”
“I’m fine,” Jack insisted though the wheeze in his voice undermined his claim. “I just need some sleep. I need to rest.” He needed to get you out of his brain.
“You need to figure this out, Jack. Finding out you have Hanahaki would throw anyone for a loop, especially when you didn’t even realize you were in love. But this isn’t something you can ignore. It won’t just go away, it will only get worse.
Robby was right, Jack knew he was. He’d been ignoring what was happening for weeks, dismissing symptoms, making excuses. And now he was paying the price.
“I know. I’ll think about what you said. I promise.”
“Good. That’s a start. Now get your things together. Your ride should be here in a minute.”
Now, when Robby said ride, Jack assumed he meant an intern. An uber perhaps. What he did not expect to see when he stepped through the doors was you. You’d pulled your car to the side where it wouldn’t impede any ambulances and you leaned against it. It took him longer than he’d admit to realize you were waiting for him.
Jack spun on his heel to glare at his former best friend. “What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.
Robby gave him a look of feigned innocence. “Got you a ride.”
“You asked her?”
At that he grinned. “Actually, I sent a message to the group chat. She volunteered.”
“Oh.” He looked over to find you in the same position, your gaze moving between the two attendings. He lifted a hand in greeting and to let you know he’d be right there.
You nodded, waved at Robby and got behind the wheel.
“What do I do?” Jack asked, suddenly at a loss.
Robby rested a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, brother. Just let her take you home. Think about how you really feel about her. That’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Jack agreed with a nod of his head. “I’ll see you later.”
“Not tonight you won’t,” Robby corrected. “You’re off until Friday at the earliest. Doctor’s orders.”
Jack didn’t bother to argue. Knew there would be no point. And honestly, he could use a few days to get his head straight. He held up a hand in goodbye as he made his way to your car, his mind churning. What if Robby was right? What if he’d fallen in love without realizing it, what then? You had never given any indication you felt the same. The idea of confessing feelings that might not be returned…
Another cough built in his chest as if his body was responding to the thought. He swallowed hard, forcing it down. One problem at a time. First, he needed to get home. Then he needed to figure out if Robby was right.
As if sensing Jack was lost his head, you didn’t attempt to make conversation after your initial greeting once he got in the car. When you arrived at his house, he finally turned to look at you. “Thanks for the ride. I would have been fine driving but Robby insisted.”
“I didn’t mind, Jack. However, I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me just yet.”
His brows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“Bossman said, and I quote, ‘get his ass inside and into bed with a glass of water and trashcan nearby.’ So that’s what I’m going to do. Let’s go.” You climbed out of the car and waited for him to exit before locking the doors.
“I assure you that his is not necessary,” Jack argued. More than that, it could be catastrophic. Having you in his house, where he’d now be able to picture you clearly instead of relying solely on his imagination? That sounded like a horrible idea. Not that he’d ever pictured you in his house. Sitting across from him at the table, nestled into his side as you watched TV. That would be absurd.
You took his bag from his loose hold and ignored his protests as you carried it up to the door. Jack stared at you hopeless for another moment before sighing and following after you. “Keys are in the front pocket.”
You pulled them out and handed them over. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for you to follow after. He gestured at the hooks just inside the door. “You can hang the bag there.”
You did and kicked off your shoes, nudging them to line up against the wall. “Robby didn’t exactly say what was wrong with you.” You paused, but Jack didn’t offer any clarification. No, that would be a monumentally stupid thing to do. You cleared your throat. “Are you hungry? I could make you something.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m fine.” The endearment slipped out without thought. He suddenly wondered when the first time was he had called you that. And when had that become the norm instead of your name? Christ. He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”
You nodded. “Sure. Let me get you that water at least.”
Jack just nodded and headed down the hall toward his bedroom to fish out something to change into after his shower. You stepped into the doorway just as he finished taking off his leg. He froze and swallowed. “Sorry. Forgot you’d be coming back here.”
You smiled and Jack had to glance away. “It’s your home, Jack, and I’ve seen you without the leg before. It’s not like you were nude. Here.” You sat the glass on the nightstand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. I’ve got it. Thank you.” You had seen him without the leg precisely once when it started rubbing wrong on a shift and you’d made him sit down and get an exam. You’d also bullied him into supervising from a wheelchair for the rest of the night when you saw his red, raw flesh by threatening to call Robby and tattle on him.
Your gaze ran over him, assessing. He could feel it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes found yours again but he said nothing.
“You just seem off.” Worry shone in your eyes and he forced himself to look away once more.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
After a moment, you stepped toward the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.” When he only nodded, you added, “Promise?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat when he heard the gravel in his voice. “Promise.”
“Okay. Bye, Jack.” And with that, you left without waiting for a response.
Tension immediately flowed from Jack’s entire body. Jesus, Robby couldn’t have found literally anyone else to bring him home? He pushed thoughts of you from his head as he finished stripping. Using his crutches, he moved into the shower, ready to rinse the night off so he could get some sleep.
Not thinking of you lasted approximately two and a half minutes after he turned the water on. He’d turned the temp up on the water hoping it would help clear his lungs. His chest ached with each breath, a constant reminder of the flowers blooming in his lungs.
Flowers.
For you.
It was ridiculous. Yes, he enjoyed working with you. You were competent, smart, quick to smile and to make others laugh. You had a way with patients that made even the most difficult cases manageable. And so what if he’d noticed the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, or that you tapped your fingers when you were thinking?
But that didn’t mean he was in love with you. Love was what he’d had with Mari. All consuming, life-altering, the kind that left you devastated and broken when it was no longer yours. What he felt for you was…appreciation. Admiration, perhaps. Friendship. That was it. He loved you like a very dear friend.
Except friends didn’t keep mental lists of your favorite foods, or notice when you changed your shampoo, or come in on their nights off because you were working. Friends didn’t feel their mood lift the moment you walked into a room or find themselves replaying conversations long after they’d ended.
Jack groaned, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some teenager with a crush. He’d been married, for fuck’s sake. He knew what love felt like.
Or he had once. Before Mari died, leaving him hollowed out and certain he would never feel that way again. He’d adjusted to his solitude. To the bed being too big and the house too quiet.
But lately…
He sucked in a shaky breath as he finally admitted to himself that he’d been pursuing you without even realizing it. No wonder Robby had looked at him like he was an idiot. He was.
“I’m fond of her,” he said aloud, testing the words. “That’s all it is. A fondness.” It couldn’t be love, because if it was that meant—
His chest contracted sharply, another cough building. This one came on faster than the others, stealing his breath before he could prepare. He curled forward, one hand pressed to his sternum as his lungs spasmed. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, each breath harder than the last, until finally, blessedly, it subsided.
When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see dozens of petals swirling toward the drain. Proof, if he’d needed it that Tanaka was right. That Robby was right.
He was in love with you. For far longer than he cared to admit.
Tears mixed with the water running down his cheeks as his shoulders shook in a silent sob. He’d fallen in love with you and hadn’t even realized because it was so subtle, so quiet, compared to what he’d had with his wife. He’d lost out on so much time with you because he was too afraid to examine his feelings. To admit to himself what everyone else had known all along.
But what difference did it make really? Because even if he loved you, what then? You’d never given any indication you felt the same. No lingering looks or soft touches. Nothing to suggest you saw him as anything more than a colleague.
And why would you? He was damaged goods. A widower with a missing leg and more baggage than most people would want to deal with. You were vibrant, fully engaged with life in a way he had long forgotten. You deserved someone whole, someone who could love you without reservation or complication. Someone who didn’t still wake reaching for a wife that would never be there again.
Jack closed his eyes and took another shaky breath as he turned off the water. As he dried off and headed for bed, he considered his options. He’d meet with Tanaka and schedule the surgery. But he should talk to you first. He knew he should. But he was so fucking scared.
He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. You’d told him to call if he needed anything, but what if he only needed you? He could hear your voice, ask you to come back. He could tell you everything and hope maybe you felt the same.
He moved to the call button, then stopped. He needed to sleep first. Needed to be fully about himself before he decided how to approach this. It took hours of tossing and turning before he finally found rest, but even that was fitful.
He glanced at the clock when he woke to find it nearing seven. At least he’d managed a few hours. You were working, so his grand confession would have to wait. Maybe he could meet you after shift and take you to breakfast.
He was so lost in his head when he opened the bedroom door that he almost disregarded the rich aroma filling the air and the soft sounds from his kitchen. He frowned and moved into the other room, calling a soft “Hello?” as he went.
As he stepped into the doorway, you glanced at him over your shoulder and he sucked in a breath. You were here. In his home. Making dinner.
“You stayed?” he asked, voice rougher than intended.
You shrugged and turned back to the stove. “You didn’t look okay. I wanted to be close, crashed on the couch. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
He swallowed down the words that rose in his throat. No. Never. Stay the night. Stay forever. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Bossman gave me the night off. Told me to take care of you if I was that worried. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Thought I’d make you some soup.” You didn’t look at him, but he could hear the concern in your tone, the worry that he would be upset with you for taking care of him.
He just watched you move in his space like you belonged there.
Finally, you glanced at him again and gave him a small smile when you found him watching. “Where’s your bowls?”
“I’ll get them,” he said, suddenly desperate to do something.
It was a simple task but before he could even open the cabinet, he was seized by another violent coughing fit. He bent over the sink, bracing against the edge for support. His chest burned and his vision blurred at the edge. He vaguely registered you saying his name and a hand landing on his back, warm even through the fabric of his shirt.
When the fit finally subsided, he was horrified to see the petals that littered the sink.
You went completely still beside him. “Jack, are those…”
“It’s not…” he started then trailed off. There was no explanation he could give you beside the truth.
“Oh,” you said softly, your fingers curling in as you removed your touch from his back. You took a step away. “Who is it?” You sounded resigned, maybe even a little hurt.
The question hung between you. Jack remained braced against the sink, unable to look at you. “When my wife died, I thought I would never love anyone again. That it would be impossible. So, when it happened, I didn’t even realize it. Or I suppose it’s more like I ignored it.” He risked a glance at your reflection in the window above the sink. “I guess my body didn’t like that. It’s making me face it.”
“That wasn’t my question, Jack.” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it.
He turned to face you then, his hip leaning against the counter to take his weight. “Don’t you know, sweetheart? According to Robby, it’s obvious to everyone in the department that I’m crazy about you.”
Jack watched your face for your reaction. Anything. But your expression remained carefully blank aside from a slight widening of your eyes.
“Me?” you finally said, the word barely audible.
“Yeah.” Jack pushed off from the counter, using his crutches to move over to one of the chairs and dropping into it. He kept his gaze on anything but you. “But I don’t expect anything. You don’t owe me anything. I have options. I’ll be fine. I see the doctor again next week and I can get the surgery scheduled.”
“Jack Abbot, if you have that surgery, I will never forgive you.” Your sharp tone had his head immediately snapping over to follow you as you stepped toward him.
“What? Why?”
“Because it is completely unnecessary, you idiot. I have been in love with you for ages.”
Time seemed to stop. Jack stared at you, certain he’d misheard. “What?”
You came to a stop in front of him. “I’ve loved you for months, probably longer. I just didn’t think that you would ever…that you could ever…”
The rest of your sentence was lost as Jack pulled you forward into his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your lips as your eyes searched his. He leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
His lips found yours hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty as you responded. He laughed against your mouth as you turned and sat sideways in his lap. When he finally pulled back completely, the first thing he noticed was your wide smile and the joy in your eyes.
The second was, that for the first time in weeks—in six years, really—he could finally, simply, breathe.
synopsis: Jack knows what love feels like, knows he could never feel it again. His lungs beg to differ.
warnings/notes: Hanahaki AU and everything that entails. mentions of Jack's late wife. I'm kind of in love with this. Flangst, my beloved.
wc: 5.9k
Jack Abbot knew a great many things.
He knew how to trach in the field under active fire. He knew how to run an emergency department efficiently and effectively. He knew how to make an omelet and fix a sink and change the oil in his car. He knew what it felt like to lose the greatest thing he’d ever held and he knew what it felt like to love. Or so he believed until a random Tuesday in June.
It was nearing the end of his shift when Jack felt it again. That hitch in his breathing that signaled the arrival of a deep, rattling cough that he’d been dealing with for weeks now. He pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to muffle the sound. Just a lingering cold, he told himself. Or allergies maybe. Nothing some water and cough drops wouldn’t fix.
Except the tightness in his chest had gotten worse. And the cough drops weren’t doing a damn thing. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, it felt like an invisible band was squeezing his lungs. His voice had taken on a rougher edge and he’d start wheezing if he tried to say more than few words at a time.
“You look like shit,” said a familiar voice behind him.
Jack turned to find Robby standing there, coffee in hand, ready to start his shift. “Good morning to you, too. Some of us have been up all night.”
Robby hummed. “And some of us are clearly coming down with something. Seriously, Jack, you don’t look good. Are you okay?”
Jack waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “Fine. Just a little under the weather.”
“Is that why you’re breathing like you just ran a marathon?” Robby took a step closer. “You’re wheezing and I’m not the only one that noticed. I got three texts from night shift.”
“It’s just a cold.” Jack tried to take a deep breath to prove his point but it caught in his throat, triggering another coughing fit. This one was worse than the others and had him gripping the edge of the counter for support.
When the coughing subsided, Robby’s gaze was stern. “That doesn’t sound like a cold to me.”
“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted, though the pain in his chest suggested otherwise. “Probably just moved to my chest is all.”
Robby sat his coffee down and crossed his arms. “That is not nothing. I want labs and a chest x-ray.”
“Christ, Mike. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m not asking, Jack. You’re a doctor. You know better than to ignore stuff like this.” His tone left no room for argument.
Jack recognized the look his friend was giving him. He wasn’t getting out of this. He sighed. “Fine. One x-ray. Then I’m going home to sleep.”
“Deal,” Robby said, already putting in the order for the portable chest x-ray into the system. He glanced at Dana who hadn’t even pretended she wasn’t listening.
“Eight’s open.”
“A room, man? Come on,” Jack complained but headed in that direction.
“Quit complaining,” Robby said as he trailed behind him, signaling the radiology tech with the machine to follow him. “Shirt off, Abbot.”
“Buy me dinner first,” Jack snarked even as he did as told. He laid down and the machine was positioned over the top of him.
“Take a deep breath and hold it,” Marcia the tech instructed.
The first time he attempted to follow instructions, he devolved into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” he apologized once he caught his breath.
“It’s fine. Just do the best you can.” The tech took three shots from different angles.
Robby slid on his glasses and stepped up to the machine while Jack put his t-shirt back on, forgoing the scrub top since his shift was over anyway.
“Let me guess. Nothing but a little inflammation. Can I go home now?”
“Leave us for a minute,” Robby said to Marcia, voice low.
Jack’s head snapped up, his gaze darting from his friend to the screen he was looking at and back again. “What is it?”
Robby turned the screen toward Jack so he could see for himself. Even from across the room, he could see the large white mass shadowing his right lung.
He swallowed hard. “That could be pneumonia. Or an abscess or something.”
“It could be,” Robby agreed but his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “I’ve sent it up to pulmonary.” His phone rang before he could say anything else. He glanced at the screen. “That was fast.”
Jack shifted his weight as he listened to Robby’s one-sided conversation with pulmonary. When he hung up, he turned to look at Jack.
“Dr. Tanaka wants to see you immediately.” He paused and looked at Jack as if the name should mean something to him. It didn’t. After a moment, Robby took a breath. “He’s sent an order to CT. You’re to report there and then head to his office.”
“Right now?” Jack’s voice was little more than a whisper. The words having to be forced past the lump in his throat. This was all happening too fast. One moment he’d been dismissing his persistent cough and the next he was being scheduled for immediate appointments with pulmonary. “It’s probably nothing. Just a weird artefact in the imaging or something,” he said more to himself than Robby.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Robby agreed, but the worry in his eyes said something else entirely. “But you’re going to get checked out thoroughly just to be sure.”
Within half an hour, Jack was laying on the table in a gown as the CT hummed around him. The contrast dye made him feel warm and vaguely nauseous, but it was nothing compared to the cold fear settling in his stomach.
The tech entered the room. “All finished. By the time you get changed and to his office, Dr. Tanaka should have the images.”
Jack cleared his throat. “That’s fast.”
“You’re a VIP patient today, Dr. Abbot.”
There was nothing Jack wanted to be less. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be doing this. He wanted to go home, go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.
He made his way to the pulmonary floor trying to prepare himself for whatever Dr. Tanaka might say. He’d delivered bad news to patients and their families plenty of times, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end since Mari died.
The waiting room was empty when he arrived, the early hour meaning most patients hadn’t arrived for the appointments yet. The receptionist smiled as he approached. “Dr. Abbot? Dr. Tanaka is ready for you. Third door on the right.”
Jack took a deep breath, or tried to, and headed down the hall. Whatever was waiting for him, he would face it like he did everything else. Head on. Even if, for the first time in years, he was truly afraid.
When he entered the room, Jack was surprised to find himself in an office instead of an exam room. Tanaka rose to greet him. “Dr. Abbot,” he held out a hand to shake Jack’s.
“Just Jack,” he said with a nod before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Very well. Jack, then.” Tanaka stayed standing and pressed a couple of buttons on his computer and the large screen behind him lit up with an image of what Jack assumed were his lungs. He pointed at the mass that seemed to branch out from the right lung. “Do you know what you’re looking at here?”
Jack studied the image noting the abnormal density, the way it seemed to branch through his lung tissue like the roots of a plant. The mass was larger than it had appeared in the x-ray, more defined.
Jack swallowed. “A tumor. Probably malignant given the irregularities and the rapid growth.” He’d seen the symptoms enough in his patients to recognize the pattern. The cough, the tight chest, the fatigue. Classic presentation for lung cancer.
Tanaka shook his head. “I had my suspicions from your x-ray but the CT confirms.” He used a finger to indicate several areas on the scan. “Do you see these fine lines extending from the main mass?”
Jack leaned forward. Now that the doctor pointed it out, he could see delicate lines spreading through his lung tissue. “Vascularization?” he guessed.
“Not exactly.” Tanaka took a seat at his desk. “What you’re seeing is consistent with the presentation of Hanahaki disease.”
Jack physically jerked back in his seat. That wasn’t… “That’s impossible. I want a second opinion.”
“You are certainly entitled to one, but I am the leading expert in Hanahaki in the state.” He wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact.
The look Robby had given him when he’d said the name suddenly made so much sense. “I’ve only ever loved my wife, and she’s dead. Has been for years.”
Jack had seen Hanahaki before, of course he had. The condition was rare and still not well understood. Unrequited love manifesting physically with the growth of flowers in the lungs. But it was something that happened to young romantics or the occasional middle-age yearner, not to someone like him. Not to an old, broken ER attending who’d buried his heart with his wife six years ago.
“I’m sorry, but the blood tests confirm.” He clicked on his screen and Jack’s results populated the screen.
Jack shook his head, unable to process what he was hearing. “Run more tests. There has to be a mistake.”
“Dr. Abbot, Jack, we can run additional tests, but given your symptoms and the findings, Hanahaki is our working diagnosis.” He paused, studying Jack’s face. “I suggest you do some soul searching. You’re in love whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue but another coughing fit seized him, doubling him over. His lungs burned as he struggled to draw breath. When it finally subsided, he was surprised to find Tanaka standing in front of him holding a tissue. Only when he took it did he understand why. Delicate pink petals filled his palm.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, staring at the evidence in his hand.
“That’s confirmation enough for me,” Dr. Tanaka said quietly. “The small petals are consistent with early stage Hanahaki. They’ll become larger and more numerous as the disease progresses, until you are expelling full blooms.”
Jack couldn’t tear his gaze away from the petals. Each one was perfect, like they’d been plucked from some unseen garden growing inside him. And he supposed in a way they had. “How long?” he managed to ask.
“Hard to say without knowing how fast it’s progressing. We’ll do another scan in a week and go from there.” Tanaka paused then added, “I assume you are aware of your options.”
Jack nodded once. “Surgery or…death.” He had to force the last word past his lips. He’d engaged in reckless behavior, volunteering for SWAT, standing on the edge of the roof while he thought about how easy it would be to just not have to deal with it all anymore. To not be alone every fucking day of his life. But now that the very real possibility of his death was looming in the shadows he suddenly found he didn’t want it.
“As you are aware, the surgery would remove any feelings for the person in question. You may forget them entirely though that is very rare. There is also always the possibility that the person you love will return your affections. Then no intervention would be needed,” Tanaka said, voice soft. “The matter would resolve on its own. It’s quite remarkable really.”
Jack looked down at the petals again. The idea that his body had somehow conjured flowers from a love he wasn’t even aware of seemed impossible. Yet the evidence was literally in his hand.
“You have a lot to think about,” Tanaka said, standing. “I’ll schedule another scan for next week and we can talk about options.”
“Thank you,” Jack said as he stood as well.
“You should take it easy until then. The coughing may worsen, particularly if you’re stressed or physically exerted. I’d recommend time off work.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jack said, but the thought of sitting alone at home with his thoughts was not one he wanted to contemplate at the moment.
Dr. Tanaka seemed to sense his turmoil. “This is a lot to process. Many patients find it helpful to talk to someone. A therapist or a family member. And I suggest a discussion with the person—”
“There is no person,” Jack cut him off sharply. “My wife has been dead for six years. There’s been no one since.”
The other man didn’t argue, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see you next week. Call if you have any questions or concerns before then.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Jack turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. In the hall, he pressed his back against the wall. He took the deepest breath he had since entering the office. The tightness in his chest reminded him of the flowers blooming where they had no right to be.
Love.
The word echoed in his head. He’d buried that part of himself when Mari died. The idea that his body had somehow betrayed him, had grown flowers for someone else…It was too much. He couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t.
He pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator. One foot in front of the other. That’s how he’d gotten through the worst days after Mari’s death and that’s how he would get through this.
Jack made it back to the ER on autopilot, his mind still reeling. Day shift was in full swing. Jack just stood for a minute, trying to orientate himself, feeling oddly disconnected from the familiar chaos.
“Jack!”
He turned to find Robby hurrying toward him. His face was creased with worry, eyes scanning Jack’s features as if searching for visible changes.
“Well? What did he say?”
Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. How did he possibly explain he was coughing up petals for someone he was supposedly in love with? It was stupid. Ridiculous. And just the sort of thing that would happen to him. Of course it was.
“It’s not possible,” he finally forced out. “It’s not…Mike, I…” His voice cracked, another cough building in his chest.
“Okay, okay,” Robby said, his tone shifting from urgent to soothing. “Let’s sit down, huh? You look like you’re about ready to fall over.”
Before Jack could protest, Robby led him through the department toward the breakroom. He deposited him in a chair at one of the tables, then turned to fill a cup with water. “Here, drink,” he instructed as he sat it in front of Jack.
Jack obeyed mechanically, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat. The simple act centered him somewhat, anchoring him to the present moment.
Robby pulled out a chair and sat down. “Now, what did Tanaka say?”
Jack stared at the cup in his hands. “Hanahaki,” he said finally.
“Shit. I thought it might be when they said Tanaka wanted to see you.” Robby sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “He’s the best, so there’s that at least.”
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, man. I haven’t been in love with anyone since Mari died.”
An expression he couldn’t place flicked across Robby’s face before shifting to disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
Jack frowned. “What’s with the tone? Why are you making it sound like I’m stupid?”
“Because you are,” Robby said without hesitation. When Jack just stared at him, Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” Jack demanded, irritation briefly overriding his confusion.
Your name was the only thing that left Robby’s lips.
Jack blinked and repeated it like a question. Like your face hadn’t just appeared in his brain. Like he didn’t instantly think about your smile, hear your laugh.
“Yes!” Robby threw his hands up in exasperation. “The woman you’ve been staring at with a besotted expression for the past eight months? The one you look for anytime you enter the department? The one whose coffee order you have memorized?”
No, no. That couldn’t be right. “But she’s—”
“Brilliant,” Robby stated. “Funny. Kind. Beautiful. Should I continue to list off everything you said to me the last time we went out? You talked about her all night, man.”
“I mean…I respect her.” The words felt inadequate even as he said them. Images of you flashed through his mind. The way you laughed at your own jokes even if no one else did, how you always remembered small details about people, that furrow that appeared between your brows when you were concentrating.
“She’s dedicated,” he continued. “Compassionate. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she’s never mean about it. And she’s…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he could continue talking about you for the rest of the day.
“She’s what?” Robby prompted, a knowing look on his face.
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t love her. I can’t.”
“Why not? Because you loved Mari? Loving someone else doesn’t erase what you had with her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jack argued, though he couldn’t have explained why if someone pressed.
“It actually is,” Robby replied, not unkindly. “You loved your wife. She died and it broke you. For a long time, I wasn’t certain you’d ever put yourself back together. But you have. And against all odds you found someone who makes you feel something again. Instead of being grateful, instead of grasping it with both hands, you’re literally making yourself sick denying it.”
“It’s not…I haven’t—”
“You have,” Robby interrupted. “Everyone knows you’re in love with her except you and her, apparently.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Just think about it, okay? Really think about it.”
As if on cue, another coughing fit seized Jack, this one stronger than the last. He doubled over, hand braced against the table as his chest contracted painfully. When it finally subsided, he found his palm filled with more petals, the edges tinged with blood.
“Holy shit.” Robby stared at the evidence in front of him.
Jack closed his hand around the petals, as if hiding them from view would make them cease to exist. “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.” He pushed himself to his feet. The room titled slightly, his vision blurring at the edges.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” Robby said standing as well, typing on his phone. “Let me have someone run you home.”
“I’m fine,” Jack insisted though the wheeze in his voice undermined his claim. “I just need some sleep. I need to rest.” He needed to get you out of his brain.
“You need to figure this out, Jack. Finding out you have Hanahaki would throw anyone for a loop, especially when you didn’t even realize you were in love. But this isn’t something you can ignore. It won’t just go away, it will only get worse.
Robby was right, Jack knew he was. He’d been ignoring what was happening for weeks, dismissing symptoms, making excuses. And now he was paying the price.
“I know. I’ll think about what you said. I promise.”
“Good. That’s a start. Now get your things together. Your ride should be here in a minute.”
Now, when Robby said ride, Jack assumed he meant an intern. An uber perhaps. What he did not expect to see when he stepped through the doors was you. You’d pulled your car to the side where it wouldn’t impede any ambulances and you leaned against it. It took him longer than he’d admit to realize you were waiting for him.
Jack spun on his heel to glare at his former best friend. “What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.
Robby gave him a look of feigned innocence. “Got you a ride.”
“You asked her?”
At that he grinned. “Actually, I sent a message to the group chat. She volunteered.”
“Oh.” He looked over to find you in the same position, your gaze moving between the two attendings. He lifted a hand in greeting and to let you know he’d be right there.
You nodded, waved at Robby and got behind the wheel.
“What do I do?” Jack asked, suddenly at a loss.
Robby rested a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, brother. Just let her take you home. Think about how you really feel about her. That’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Jack agreed with a nod of his head. “I’ll see you later.”
“Not tonight you won’t,” Robby corrected. “You’re off until Friday at the earliest. Doctor’s orders.”
Jack didn’t bother to argue. Knew there would be no point. And honestly, he could use a few days to get his head straight. He held up a hand in goodbye as he made his way to your car, his mind churning. What if Robby was right? What if he’d fallen in love without realizing it, what then? You had never given any indication you felt the same. The idea of confessing feelings that might not be returned…
Another cough built in his chest as if his body was responding to the thought. He swallowed hard, forcing it down. One problem at a time. First, he needed to get home. Then he needed to figure out if Robby was right.
As if sensing Jack was lost his head, you didn’t attempt to make conversation after your initial greeting once he got in the car. When you arrived at his house, he finally turned to look at you. “Thanks for the ride. I would have been fine driving but Robby insisted.”
“I didn’t mind, Jack. However, I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me just yet.”
His brows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“Bossman said, and I quote, ‘get his ass inside and into bed with a glass of water and trashcan nearby.’ So that’s what I’m going to do. Let’s go.” You climbed out of the car and waited for him to exit before locking the doors.
“I assure you that his is not necessary,” Jack argued. More than that, it could be catastrophic. Having you in his house, where he’d now be able to picture you clearly instead of relying solely on his imagination? That sounded like a horrible idea. Not that he’d ever pictured you in his house. Sitting across from him at the table, nestled into his side as you watched TV. That would be absurd.
You took his bag from his loose hold and ignored his protests as you carried it up to the door. Jack stared at you hopeless for another moment before sighing and following after you. “Keys are in the front pocket.”
You pulled them out and handed them over. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for you to follow after. He gestured at the hooks just inside the door. “You can hang the bag there.”
You did and kicked off your shoes, nudging them to line up against the wall. “Robby didn’t exactly say what was wrong with you.” You paused, but Jack didn’t offer any clarification. No, that would be a monumentally stupid thing to do. You cleared your throat. “Are you hungry? I could make you something.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m fine.” The endearment slipped out without thought. He suddenly wondered when the first time was he had called you that. And when had that become the norm instead of your name? Christ. He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”
You nodded. “Sure. Let me get you that water at least.”
Jack just nodded and headed down the hall toward his bedroom to fish out something to change into after his shower. You stepped into the doorway just as he finished taking off his leg. He froze and swallowed. “Sorry. Forgot you’d be coming back here.”
You smiled and Jack had to glance away. “It’s your home, Jack, and I’ve seen you without the leg before. It’s not like you were nude. Here.” You sat the glass on the nightstand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. I’ve got it. Thank you.” You had seen him without the leg precisely once when it started rubbing wrong on a shift and you’d made him sit down and get an exam. You’d also bullied him into supervising from a wheelchair for the rest of the night when you saw his red, raw flesh by threatening to call Robby and tattle on him.
Your gaze ran over him, assessing. He could feel it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes found yours again but he said nothing.
“You just seem off.” Worry shone in your eyes and he forced himself to look away once more.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
After a moment, you stepped toward the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.” When he only nodded, you added, “Promise?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat when he heard the gravel in his voice. “Promise.”
“Okay. Bye, Jack.” And with that, you left without waiting for a response.
Tension immediately flowed from Jack’s entire body. Jesus, Robby couldn’t have found literally anyone else to bring him home? He pushed thoughts of you from his head as he finished stripping. Using his crutches, he moved into the shower, ready to rinse the night off so he could get some sleep.
Not thinking of you lasted approximately two and a half minutes after he turned the water on. He’d turned the temp up on the water hoping it would help clear his lungs. His chest ached with each breath, a constant reminder of the flowers blooming in his lungs.
Flowers.
For you.
It was ridiculous. Yes, he enjoyed working with you. You were competent, smart, quick to smile and to make others laugh. You had a way with patients that made even the most difficult cases manageable. And so what if he’d noticed the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, or that you tapped your fingers when you were thinking?
But that didn’t mean he was in love with you. Love was what he’d had with Mari. All consuming, life-altering, the kind that left you devastated and broken when it was no longer yours. What he felt for you was…appreciation. Admiration, perhaps. Friendship. That was it. He loved you like a very dear friend.
Except friends didn’t keep mental lists of your favorite foods, or notice when you changed your shampoo, or come in on their nights off because you were working. Friends didn’t feel their mood lift the moment you walked into a room or find themselves replaying conversations long after they’d ended.
Jack groaned, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some teenager with a crush. He’d been married, for fuck’s sake. He knew what love felt like.
Or he had once. Before Mari died, leaving him hollowed out and certain he would never feel that way again. He’d adjusted to his solitude. To the bed being too big and the house too quiet.
But lately…
He sucked in a shaky breath as he finally admitted to himself that he’d been pursuing you without even realizing it. No wonder Robby had looked at him like he was an idiot. He was.
“I’m fond of her,” he said aloud, testing the words. “That’s all it is. A fondness.” It couldn’t be love, because if it was that meant—
His chest contracted sharply, another cough building. This one came on faster than the others, stealing his breath before he could prepare. He curled forward, one hand pressed to his sternum as his lungs spasmed. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, each breath harder than the last, until finally, blessedly, it subsided.
When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see dozens of petals swirling toward the drain. Proof, if he’d needed it that Tanaka was right. That Robby was right.
He was in love with you. For far longer than he cared to admit.
Tears mixed with the water running down his cheeks as his shoulders shook in a silent sob. He’d fallen in love with you and hadn’t even realized because it was so subtle, so quiet, compared to what he’d had with his wife. He’d lost out on so much time with you because he was too afraid to examine his feelings. To admit to himself what everyone else had known all along.
But what difference did it make really? Because even if he loved you, what then? You’d never given any indication you felt the same. No lingering looks or soft touches. Nothing to suggest you saw him as anything more than a colleague.
And why would you? He was damaged goods. A widower with a missing leg and more baggage than most people would want to deal with. You were vibrant, fully engaged with life in a way he had long forgotten. You deserved someone whole, someone who could love you without reservation or complication. Someone who didn’t still wake reaching for a wife that would never be there again.
Jack closed his eyes and took another shaky breath as he turned off the water. As he dried off and headed for bed, he considered his options. He’d meet with Tanaka and schedule the surgery. But he should talk to you first. He knew he should. But he was so fucking scared.
He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. You’d told him to call if he needed anything, but what if he only needed you? He could hear your voice, ask you to come back. He could tell you everything and hope maybe you felt the same.
He moved to the call button, then stopped. He needed to sleep first. Needed to be fully about himself before he decided how to approach this. It took hours of tossing and turning before he finally found rest, but even that was fitful.
He glanced at the clock when he woke to find it nearing seven. At least he’d managed a few hours. You were working, so his grand confession would have to wait. Maybe he could meet you after shift and take you to breakfast.
He was so lost in his head when he opened the bedroom door that he almost disregarded the rich aroma filling the air and the soft sounds from his kitchen. He frowned and moved into the other room, calling a soft “Hello?” as he went.
As he stepped into the doorway, you glanced at him over your shoulder and he sucked in a breath. You were here. In his home. Making dinner.
“You stayed?” he asked, voice rougher than intended.
You shrugged and turned back to the stove. “You didn’t look okay. I wanted to be close, crashed on the couch. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
He swallowed down the words that rose in his throat. No. Never. Stay the night. Stay forever. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Bossman gave me the night off. Told me to take care of you if I was that worried. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Thought I’d make you some soup.” You didn’t look at him, but he could hear the concern in your tone, the worry that he would be upset with you for taking care of him.
He just watched you move in his space like you belonged there.
Finally, you glanced at him again and gave him a small smile when you found him watching. “Where’s your bowls?”
“I’ll get them,” he said, suddenly desperate to do something.
It was a simple task but before he could even open the cabinet, he was seized by another violent coughing fit. He bent over the sink, bracing against the edge for support. His chest burned and his vision blurred at the edge. He vaguely registered you saying his name and a hand landing on his back, warm even through the fabric of his shirt.
When the fit finally subsided, he was horrified to see the petals that littered the sink.
You went completely still beside him. “Jack, are those…”
“It’s not…” he started then trailed off. There was no explanation he could give you beside the truth.
“Oh,” you said softly, your fingers curling in as you removed your touch from his back. You took a step away. “Who is it?” You sounded resigned, maybe even a little hurt.
The question hung between you. Jack remained braced against the sink, unable to look at you. “When my wife died, I thought I would never love anyone again. That it would be impossible. So, when it happened, I didn’t even realize it. Or I suppose it’s more like I ignored it.” He risked a glance at your reflection in the window above the sink. “I guess my body didn’t like that. It’s making me face it.”
“That wasn’t my question, Jack.” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it.
He turned to face you then, his hip leaning against the counter to take his weight. “Don’t you know, sweetheart? According to Robby, it’s obvious to everyone in the department that I’m crazy about you.”
Jack watched your face for your reaction. Anything. But your expression remained carefully blank aside from a slight widening of your eyes.
“Me?” you finally said, the word barely audible.
“Yeah.” Jack pushed off from the counter, using his crutches to move over to one of the chairs and dropping into it. He kept his gaze on anything but you. “But I don’t expect anything. You don’t owe me anything. I have options. I’ll be fine. I see the doctor again next week and I can get the surgery scheduled.”
“Jack Abbot, if you have that surgery, I will never forgive you.” Your sharp tone had his head immediately snapping over to follow you as you stepped toward him.
“What? Why?”
“Because it is completely unnecessary, you idiot. I have been in love with you for ages.”
Time seemed to stop. Jack stared at you, certain he’d misheard. “What?”
You came to a stop in front of him. “I’ve loved you for months, probably longer. I just didn’t think that you would ever…that you could ever…”
The rest of your sentence was lost as Jack pulled you forward into his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your lips as your eyes searched his. He leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
His lips found yours hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty as you responded. He laughed against your mouth as you turned and sat sideways in his lap. When he finally pulled back completely, the first thing he noticed was your wide smile and the joy in your eyes.
The second was, that for the first time in weeks—in six years, really—he could finally, simply, breathe.
Summary: Three surgical residents find friendship in the halls of PTMC, and two of them also happen to find love.
When your father died and left your childhood home in Pittsburgh in your name, the last thing you expected was to end up where you are.
The house itself felt too big after the funeral. Too quiet. Every room still carried traces of him and the last few years— coffee mugs left in cabinets exactly where he liked them, old jazz records stacked beside the living room stereo, the dent in the hallway wall from when you crashed your bike into it on Christmas morning at nine years old.
You couldn’t bear the idea of selling it. But you also couldn’t afford to keep it on a surgical resident’s salary.
You took the surgical residency at PTMC and upon looking for roommates to subsidize the cost of the new house as well as your nearly zero dollar income, you stumbled upon Emery Walsh and Brendon Park, your fellow surgical residents.
Em couldn’t afford anything in the city and Brendon had been dying to get out of his parents house.
The arrangement was supposed to be temporary. Just a practical solution between three exhausted residents drowning in student debt and eighty hour work weeks.
But somewhere between overnight trauma rotations, takeout containers piled in the kitchen, and collapsing together on the couch after thirty hour shifts, the three of you became something dangerously close to a family.
You became inseparable in and out of the hospital. You were a dynamic trio, people often feared you all in the OR due to your cut throat attitudes and lack of emotions. You were all shaping out to be the perfect surgeons.
Attendings loved you because you were efficient. Patients trusted you because you were calm. Other residents avoided getting scrubbed into cases with the three of you because it always became a competition no one else could keep up with.
Emery was brilliant and terrifying under pressure. Brendon was meticulous, almost annoyingly precise. And you were cold in the way only someone desperate to prove themselves could be.
The three of you developed reputations fast.
Residents whispered that the PTMC surgical house never slept.
That one of you was always at the hospital.
That if all three of you were scrubbed into a procedure, the patient was guaranteed to survive.
And amongst all of you also started the tumultuous situationship you have been involved in with the one and only Brendon Park for the last four years.
It started off as these things usually do, a release. Both of you were stressed and too tired to find other sexual partners. So, you wound up down the hall in his bed.
The first time had happened after a brutal overnight shift during intern year. You’d lost a patient. Brendon had found you sitting on the back porch at four in the morning still wearing your scrubs, staring blankly into the dark.
He sat beside you silently for almost ten minutes before offering you half of his sandwich and his beer.
You kissed him before he could even finish chewing.
After that, it became routine. It was unspoken and convenient,
Some nights he ended up in your room. Some nights you ended up in his. And by morning, everything reset back to normal.
Except somewhere along the line, lines blurred, as they normally do in these situations.
It happened quietly for you.
Not during sex. Not during one of the stolen kisses in supply closets or the nights he crawled into your bed after thirty hours awake. It wasn’t during the lazy Sunday mornings where Emery would throw pillows at the two of you for monopolizing the couch either.
It happened on a random Thursday in February.
The kind of Pittsburgh morning that was all sleet and gray skies, where the roads looked wet even when they weren’t and everyone in the hospital was already miserable before their shift started
You walked downstairs half asleep, still tying your scrub pants, mentally preparing yourself for the twelve hour pediatric reconstruction case waiting for you.
And Brendon was already in the kitchen. Because of course he was.
His hair was damp from a shower and he had his glasses low on his nose while he looked over scans on his iPad. The coffee was brewing and the smell was overwhelming in the best way.
Then you saw it. Your to go mug sat next to the pot, the creamer already filled to the exact level you like it.
He didn’t even look up when he heard your footsteps.
“You slept late,” he said casually, filling the mug, and sliding it across the counter toward your usual seat with the lid securely on.
You frowned. “It’s six fifteen.”
“Exactly,” he said, finally placing the iPad down.
You rolled your eyes, wrapping both hands around the warm mug. He reached over absently and fixed the collar of your jacket where it had folded under itself.
The gesture was automatic but it was intimate in the smallest, stupidest way.
And that was the problem.
Because Brendon touched you constantly now. Not sexually. Just naturally, like it was easy.
A hand at the small of your back while passing behind you. Fingers brushing your wrist when handing you instruments. Pulling your hood over your head when it rained because you always forgot an umbrella.
Like loving you had become muscle memory for him… and the realization hit so hard it almost made you nauseous.
You were in love with him.
Not in the fun, messy situationship way where feelings stayed manageable because neither of you acknowledged them. No no no. You loved him in the terrifying way.
The forever way, the way you and Em fawn over in rom coms while Brendon complains about watching When Harry Met Sally again even though he likes it. The kind where you noticed he always ate around the pickles in his sandwiches and gave them to Emery. The kind where you could identify his footsteps in the hallway without looking up. The kind where seeing him exhausted after call physically hurt something inside your chest and made you want to fix it.
You stared at him over the rim of your coffee cup while he annotated scans like none of this was life altering.
And the worst part?
You suddenly realized he had probably been loving you for a long time too, but that couldn’t be true, could it?
Brendon finally glanced up, brows pinching slightly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Your stomach flipped violently. And not because he totally caught you, but because you almost said it.I love you.
The words sat right there behind your teeth, dangerous and irreversible, yet somehow easy to say.
Instead, you took a sip of coffee and shrugged lightly.
“Just tired,” you shook your head.
His expression softened instantly.
“Mm.” He stood, grabbing his bag before leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of your head like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Try not to commit homicide before noon today, okay?”
You snorted quietly, “no promises.”
He smirked and disappeared toward the stairs to finish getting ready for the day.
And you sat there alone in the kitchen afterward, staring at the spot where he’d been standing.
Somehow, without either of you noticing, this had stopped being casual a long time ago.
Ever since that moment, you noticed it all.
It became Brendon automatically making your coffee before your early cases because he memorized how you liked it.
It became you falling asleep with your head on his shoulder during movie nights with Emery.
It became his hand brushing against the small of your back in crowded elevators.
It became rushed kisses in storage rooms and seeking each other out to talk.
It became every person in the hospital assuming something was going on between you long before either of you admitted it to yourselves.
Still, neither of you said anything.
Because saying something would ruin it.
And losing him felt significantly worse than pretending none of this meant anything at all.
It was coming time to pick specialties, and with that it was coming time to pick hospitals.
Offers started appearing one by one.
Emery had already committed to trauma.
Brendon had always been dreaming of ortho.
And you had changed from general to pediatrics, which everyone expected (so they said).
The other two musketeers picked PTMC, but you were the girl who swore she’d never stay in Pittsburgh permanently and you had New York calling your name again.
NYU Langone.
Prestigious. Competitive. Everything you’d dreamed about before life rerouted you back to Pennsylvania.
When you went to medical school in New York you swore you would stay, but your dad got sick and life changed. So you ended up in Pittsburgh for the last eight years.
And every time you looked at the acceptance email sitting in your inbox, your stomach twisted.
Because for the first time in your life, ambition and love were no longer pointing in the same direction.
“Have you told him yet?” Emery said, leaning against the counter besides you.
You scoffed, “why would I do that?”
The two of you were in the kitchen after another late shift. Emery sat cross legged on the counter eating dry cereal straight from the box while you pretended to focus on anything but the acceptance letter open on your laptop.
Emery laughed, “you can’t be serious?”
You raised your brows in response.
“He’s in love with you? Does that ring a bell? God you two are so stupid,” she shook her head.
“Em. Please. We are not in love,” you said matter of factly.
This made her laugh again, harder, “all I’m saying is, he’s going to be upset. And he should hear it from you.”
You nearly flinched at her words, because you knew she was right.
You hated how easily Emery saw through you.
Maybe because she had spent four years watching the two of you orbit each other like idiots.
“Seriously,” she added softer this time, “you guys act like you’re casual but you look at each other like divorced parents trying not to reconcile.”
You rolled your eyes but your face burned anyway, “he’ll survive.”
Emery gave you a look that practically screamed liar. “You know what I think?” she said, hopping off the counter. “I think you’re terrified that if he actually asked you to stay… you would.”
There was a pause, she studied your face, “I’m not going to tell you what to do. But tell home before you leave, Kay?”
You nodded. She squeezed your shoulder as she walked passed you to go to bed.
So, you sat at your favorite bar that three of you typically drank too much at and got carried home from. But this time it was for a different reason.
“You really want to go back to New York?” Brendon asked.
The question came quietly.
You and Brendon sat shoulder to shoulder at the small bar tucked a few blocks from the hospital, the same place you always ended up after difficult weeks. The air smelled like whiskey and fried food and rain soaked jackets.
You shrugged, “other than the house, I don’t really have a lot here.”
That wasn’t entirely true. You had Emery. You had the hospital. And you hated to admit it but you had him.
But admitting that out loud felt dangerous.
“That’s not true, I don’t think you’d be happy if you went back there,” he said.
“Oh, cause you know me so well?” You were testing him, and he knew that.
He let out a breathy chuckle, “cmon don’t make me say it.”
Your chest tightened instantly.
Because suddenly this wasn’t flirting anymore.
You looked down at the drink in your hands, twirling it slowly.
“Give me a reason to stay,” you said it calmly. You turned your head so that you could face him from the barstool you were sitting next to him on.
Your eyes met his but you were met with complete and utter silence. And not the comfortable kind, the kind that swallowed you whole.
His jaw was slightly slack, like there were words right there that he was fighting to keep in.
You could practically see the war happening inside his head. The years of pretending this wasn’t real catching up to both of you at the exact same time.
You sighed and knocked back the rest of your drink.
“Goodnight Brendon,” you grabbed your bag and stood up, “I have a flight to catch in the morning.”
Before he could respond, you turned and left without even sparing him a glance.
You heard him say your name once behind you. But he didn’t follow and you didn’t look back.
Sleep didn’t find you, and when you finally crawled out of bed, you just barely made your flight.
You sobbed the entire one hour and twenty minutes from Pittsburgh to JFK.
The woman sitting beside you kindly pretended not to notice, which you were very thankful for.
You spent most of the flight staring out the tiny airplane window wondering why it felt less like chasing your dream and more like losing something.
By the time plan landed, you locked in.
You changed in the bathroom into your best suit, fixed your hair and makeup.
You pulled out your phone, the anxiety was starting to crawl up your throat. Your finger hovered over Brendon’s contact, before deciding to call Em.
“Hey, you okay?” She answered worriedly.
“Yeah, I— I made it.” You tried to hide the shake in your voice but you knew she could clock it.
You could hear her sigh, “he told me about last night.”
You sniffed, taking a deep, shaky breath.
“Babe. You’re going to go in there and crush this. We’ll be just fine,” she said firmly.
You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, “okay.”
“I love you, okay?” She said softly, “I have to go okay? But call me after.”
“Yeah, okay, I love you too.”
You hung up and stuffed your phone away. You took another glance in the dirty mirror, wiping your eyes.
Time to make this interview your bitch.
To say you crushed it would be an understatement. You stepped out onto first avenue, right outside the NYU building, the chief of surgery shook your hand and you thanked them for your time.
You’d been sharp. Confident. Charming— when necessary. Exactly the new pediatric surgeon they wanted.
After they walked back into the building you couldn’t hide the grin on your face any longer. You pulled your phone out of your bag and realized you were about to call him. Him who you left on the barstool last night. Your grin immediately faded at the thought. You stepped past the people on the sidewalk, reaching the curb to call a cab.
Because no matter how well the interview went, your first instinct had still been Brendon.
Just like when you got off the plane and couldn’t calm down, your first thought is that he would know exactly what to say.
You decided you were going to at least try to enjoy the rest of your New York evening by meeting some med school friends for a drink.
Just as you lifted your arm to hail a car, one stopped short right next to you, so short it made you jump.
But then the back door slammed open, the rider was mumbling thank you’s and throwing cash at the driver before he slammed the door shut and turned around.
Brendon fucking Park.
Your jaw went slack with shock. You were suddenly frozen in place. His eyes found you and he hurriedly made his way towards you.
His dress shirt was wrinkled like he’d slept in it. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair looked windblown from sprinting through Manhattan.
He pushed his messy, ungelled hair back with his free hand, the other gripped a bouquet so tightly his knuckles were white. You loved his hair like this, the way it looked when he would roll over and plant a kiss on your lips in the morning.
“How’d it go?” He asked breathlessly.
“Really well,” you said simply.
“Yeah?” He asked.
You nodded in response.
For a second he just stared at you like he was reassuring himself you were actually standing there. Like he’d been terrified he missed you.
“Don’t do it.” He said firmly.
Your eyebrows shot up, but he spoke before you could respond.
“Take the job at PTMC. Not this one. Take the attending position at PTMC and be with me.”
“Brendon—”
“No, I mean it. Take the pedes position at PTMC. I know it’s not New York. Hut Em is there. Our house is there. Your favorite sandwich shop is there. Fuck it. I’m there. And I love you. I’ve been in love with you for longer than I even realized. And last night I choked. I thought I was holding you back, I convinced myself that you were better off without me, but I can’t live without you,” his eyes were glossed over and his chest was rising and falling.
You looked at him dumbfounded.
People moved around you on the sidewalk, cabs honked, someone shouted down the street, but all of it faded into background noise.
Because Brendon Park — emotionally constipated, terrifyingly composed Brendon Park — was unraveling in front of you. Publicly and without hesitation.
“Do you want me to get on my knees? Because I will, right here. I don’t care what it looks like,” he slowly kneeled down, placing the flowers next to him, causing you to look around at the small crowd trying to act like they weren’t staring, “we are meant to be together. And if you don’t realize that, I will try to prove it to you everyday.”
A woman walking by audibly whispered “oh my god” to her friend. A cab driver leaned out his window to watch. You wanted to die and kiss him simultaneously.
He took both his hands in yours, now kneeling in front of you on the New York sidewalk.
“Okay,” you said quietly.
“Okay?” He parrotted hopefully.
You nodded, “now please get up before I change my mind.”
Relief crashed over his face so intensely it almost looked painful.
He smiled, pulling himself off the ground, and before he could do anything else, he pulled you in by your waist and kissed you. It was far from soft, it was passionate and you melted into his arms without even trying to.
The people gawking from the sidewalk cheered and you felt like you were having a 90s rom com moment.
For the first time in years, neither of you were holding back. When he pulled away, you were both breathless.
You let out a breathy laugh.
“I love you,” he said with a smile.
“I love you too,” you brought your hands up to hold his face.
Brendon leaned into your touch instantly, his eyes fluttering shut for half a second like he still couldn’t believe this was real. Then he kissed you again.
His hands settled carefully at your waist while yours slid into his hair, soft against the back of his neck. The city noise faded into nothing as he kissed you like he had spent four years waiting to do it properly.
Not rushed between shifts.
Not hidden behind closed bedroom doors.
Not pretending it meant less than it did.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours and he let out the smallest laugh.
You smiled despite yourself. “This is very bold of you Dr. Park.”
“Oh, I was fully prepared to publicly humiliate myself for you,” he said with a laugh.
He grinned, the kind that only ever appeared around you.
And somehow, against every plan you had ever made for yourself, Pittsburgh became home again.
Not because of the house your father left behind. Not because of PTMC. Not even because of the city itself.
Because somewhere between overnight surgeries, grief, takeout dinners, and four years of almosts, you had built a life there with Emery and Brendon.
The kind of life people spend their whole lives looking for.
Later, Emery would loudly claim she deserved credit for “bullying two emotionally repressed surgeons into communicating,” while you and Brendon argued over who had technically confessed first. Brendon would insist it was him. You would insist it only counted because you said okay.
And for the first time in a very long time, the future didn’t feel terrifying.
The PTMC house would still never sleep.
One of you will still always be at the hospital.
And if all three of you were scrubbed into a surgery, the patient was still guaranteed to survive.
But now, when Brendon crawled into your bed after impossible shifts or kissed you in empty elevators or made your coffee before sunrise, neither of you pretended it meant less than everything.
synopsis: Jack knows what love feels like, knows he could never feel it again. His lungs beg to differ.
warnings/notes: Hanahaki AU and everything that entails. mentions of Jack's late wife. I'm kind of in love with this. Flangst, my beloved.
wc: 5.9k
Jack Abbot knew a great many things.
He knew how to trach in the field under active fire. He knew how to run an emergency department efficiently and effectively. He knew how to make an omelet and fix a sink and change the oil in his car. He knew what it felt like to lose the greatest thing he’d ever held and he knew what it felt like to love. Or so he believed until a random Tuesday in June.
It was nearing the end of his shift when Jack felt it again. That hitch in his breathing that signaled the arrival of a deep, rattling cough that he’d been dealing with for weeks now. He pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to muffle the sound. Just a lingering cold, he told himself. Or allergies maybe. Nothing some water and cough drops wouldn’t fix.
Except the tightness in his chest had gotten worse. And the cough drops weren’t doing a damn thing. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, it felt like an invisible band was squeezing his lungs. His voice had taken on a rougher edge and he’d start wheezing if he tried to say more than few words at a time.
“You look like shit,” said a familiar voice behind him.
Jack turned to find Robby standing there, coffee in hand, ready to start his shift. “Good morning to you, too. Some of us have been up all night.”
Robby hummed. “And some of us are clearly coming down with something. Seriously, Jack, you don’t look good. Are you okay?”
Jack waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “Fine. Just a little under the weather.”
“Is that why you’re breathing like you just ran a marathon?” Robby took a step closer. “You’re wheezing and I’m not the only one that noticed. I got three texts from night shift.”
“It’s just a cold.” Jack tried to take a deep breath to prove his point but it caught in his throat, triggering another coughing fit. This one was worse than the others and had him gripping the edge of the counter for support.
When the coughing subsided, Robby’s gaze was stern. “That doesn’t sound like a cold to me.”
“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted, though the pain in his chest suggested otherwise. “Probably just moved to my chest is all.”
Robby sat his coffee down and crossed his arms. “That is not nothing. I want labs and a chest x-ray.”
“Christ, Mike. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m not asking, Jack. You’re a doctor. You know better than to ignore stuff like this.” His tone left no room for argument.
Jack recognized the look his friend was giving him. He wasn’t getting out of this. He sighed. “Fine. One x-ray. Then I’m going home to sleep.”
“Deal,” Robby said, already putting in the order for the portable chest x-ray into the system. He glanced at Dana who hadn’t even pretended she wasn’t listening.
“Eight’s open.”
“A room, man? Come on,” Jack complained but headed in that direction.
“Quit complaining,” Robby said as he trailed behind him, signaling the radiology tech with the machine to follow him. “Shirt off, Abbot.”
“Buy me dinner first,” Jack snarked even as he did as told. He laid down and the machine was positioned over the top of him.
“Take a deep breath and hold it,” Marcia the tech instructed.
The first time he attempted to follow instructions, he devolved into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” he apologized once he caught his breath.
“It’s fine. Just do the best you can.” The tech took three shots from different angles.
Robby slid on his glasses and stepped up to the machine while Jack put his t-shirt back on, forgoing the scrub top since his shift was over anyway.
“Let me guess. Nothing but a little inflammation. Can I go home now?”
“Leave us for a minute,” Robby said to Marcia, voice low.
Jack’s head snapped up, his gaze darting from his friend to the screen he was looking at and back again. “What is it?”
Robby turned the screen toward Jack so he could see for himself. Even from across the room, he could see the large white mass shadowing his right lung.
He swallowed hard. “That could be pneumonia. Or an abscess or something.”
“It could be,” Robby agreed but his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “I’ve sent it up to pulmonary.” His phone rang before he could say anything else. He glanced at the screen. “That was fast.”
Jack shifted his weight as he listened to Robby’s one-sided conversation with pulmonary. When he hung up, he turned to look at Jack.
“Dr. Tanaka wants to see you immediately.” He paused and looked at Jack as if the name should mean something to him. It didn’t. After a moment, Robby took a breath. “He’s sent an order to CT. You’re to report there and then head to his office.”
“Right now?” Jack’s voice was little more than a whisper. The words having to be forced past the lump in his throat. This was all happening too fast. One moment he’d been dismissing his persistent cough and the next he was being scheduled for immediate appointments with pulmonary. “It’s probably nothing. Just a weird artefact in the imaging or something,” he said more to himself than Robby.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Robby agreed, but the worry in his eyes said something else entirely. “But you’re going to get checked out thoroughly just to be sure.”
Within half an hour, Jack was laying on the table in a gown as the CT hummed around him. The contrast dye made him feel warm and vaguely nauseous, but it was nothing compared to the cold fear settling in his stomach.
The tech entered the room. “All finished. By the time you get changed and to his office, Dr. Tanaka should have the images.”
Jack cleared his throat. “That’s fast.”
“You’re a VIP patient today, Dr. Abbot.”
There was nothing Jack wanted to be less. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be doing this. He wanted to go home, go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.
He made his way to the pulmonary floor trying to prepare himself for whatever Dr. Tanaka might say. He’d delivered bad news to patients and their families plenty of times, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end since Mari died.
The waiting room was empty when he arrived, the early hour meaning most patients hadn’t arrived for the appointments yet. The receptionist smiled as he approached. “Dr. Abbot? Dr. Tanaka is ready for you. Third door on the right.”
Jack took a deep breath, or tried to, and headed down the hall. Whatever was waiting for him, he would face it like he did everything else. Head on. Even if, for the first time in years, he was truly afraid.
When he entered the room, Jack was surprised to find himself in an office instead of an exam room. Tanaka rose to greet him. “Dr. Abbot,” he held out a hand to shake Jack’s.
“Just Jack,” he said with a nod before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Very well. Jack, then.” Tanaka stayed standing and pressed a couple of buttons on his computer and the large screen behind him lit up with an image of what Jack assumed were his lungs. He pointed at the mass that seemed to branch out from the right lung. “Do you know what you’re looking at here?”
Jack studied the image noting the abnormal density, the way it seemed to branch through his lung tissue like the roots of a plant. The mass was larger than it had appeared in the x-ray, more defined.
Jack swallowed. “A tumor. Probably malignant given the irregularities and the rapid growth.” He’d seen the symptoms enough in his patients to recognize the pattern. The cough, the tight chest, the fatigue. Classic presentation for lung cancer.
Tanaka shook his head. “I had my suspicions from your x-ray but the CT confirms.” He used a finger to indicate several areas on the scan. “Do you see these fine lines extending from the main mass?”
Jack leaned forward. Now that the doctor pointed it out, he could see delicate lines spreading through his lung tissue. “Vascularization?” he guessed.
“Not exactly.” Tanaka took a seat at his desk. “What you’re seeing is consistent with the presentation of Hanahaki disease.”
Jack physically jerked back in his seat. That wasn’t… “That’s impossible. I want a second opinion.”
“You are certainly entitled to one, but I am the leading expert in Hanahaki in the state.” He wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact.
The look Robby had given him when he’d said the name suddenly made so much sense. “I’ve only ever loved my wife, and she’s dead. Has been for years.”
Jack had seen Hanahaki before, of course he had. The condition was rare and still not well understood. Unrequited love manifesting physically with the growth of flowers in the lungs. But it was something that happened to young romantics or the occasional middle-age yearner, not to someone like him. Not to an old, broken ER attending who’d buried his heart with his wife six years ago.
“I’m sorry, but the blood tests confirm.” He clicked on his screen and Jack’s results populated the screen.
Jack shook his head, unable to process what he was hearing. “Run more tests. There has to be a mistake.”
“Dr. Abbot, Jack, we can run additional tests, but given your symptoms and the findings, Hanahaki is our working diagnosis.” He paused, studying Jack’s face. “I suggest you do some soul searching. You’re in love whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue but another coughing fit seized him, doubling him over. His lungs burned as he struggled to draw breath. When it finally subsided, he was surprised to find Tanaka standing in front of him holding a tissue. Only when he took it did he understand why. Delicate pink petals filled his palm.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, staring at the evidence in his hand.
“That’s confirmation enough for me,” Dr. Tanaka said quietly. “The small petals are consistent with early stage Hanahaki. They’ll become larger and more numerous as the disease progresses, until you are expelling full blooms.”
Jack couldn’t tear his gaze away from the petals. Each one was perfect, like they’d been plucked from some unseen garden growing inside him. And he supposed in a way they had. “How long?” he managed to ask.
“Hard to say without knowing how fast it’s progressing. We’ll do another scan in a week and go from there.” Tanaka paused then added, “I assume you are aware of your options.”
Jack nodded once. “Surgery or…death.” He had to force the last word past his lips. He’d engaged in reckless behavior, volunteering for SWAT, standing on the edge of the roof while he thought about how easy it would be to just not have to deal with it all anymore. To not be alone every fucking day of his life. But now that the very real possibility of his death was looming in the shadows he suddenly found he didn’t want it.
“As you are aware, the surgery would remove any feelings for the person in question. You may forget them entirely though that is very rare. There is also always the possibility that the person you love will return your affections. Then no intervention would be needed,” Tanaka said, voice soft. “The matter would resolve on its own. It’s quite remarkable really.”
Jack looked down at the petals again. The idea that his body had somehow conjured flowers from a love he wasn’t even aware of seemed impossible. Yet the evidence was literally in his hand.
“You have a lot to think about,” Tanaka said, standing. “I’ll schedule another scan for next week and we can talk about options.”
“Thank you,” Jack said as he stood as well.
“You should take it easy until then. The coughing may worsen, particularly if you’re stressed or physically exerted. I’d recommend time off work.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jack said, but the thought of sitting alone at home with his thoughts was not one he wanted to contemplate at the moment.
Dr. Tanaka seemed to sense his turmoil. “This is a lot to process. Many patients find it helpful to talk to someone. A therapist or a family member. And I suggest a discussion with the person—”
“There is no person,” Jack cut him off sharply. “My wife has been dead for six years. There’s been no one since.”
The other man didn’t argue, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see you next week. Call if you have any questions or concerns before then.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Jack turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. In the hall, he pressed his back against the wall. He took the deepest breath he had since entering the office. The tightness in his chest reminded him of the flowers blooming where they had no right to be.
Love.
The word echoed in his head. He’d buried that part of himself when Mari died. The idea that his body had somehow betrayed him, had grown flowers for someone else…It was too much. He couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t.
He pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator. One foot in front of the other. That’s how he’d gotten through the worst days after Mari’s death and that’s how he would get through this.
Jack made it back to the ER on autopilot, his mind still reeling. Day shift was in full swing. Jack just stood for a minute, trying to orientate himself, feeling oddly disconnected from the familiar chaos.
“Jack!”
He turned to find Robby hurrying toward him. His face was creased with worry, eyes scanning Jack’s features as if searching for visible changes.
“Well? What did he say?”
Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. How did he possibly explain he was coughing up petals for someone he was supposedly in love with? It was stupid. Ridiculous. And just the sort of thing that would happen to him. Of course it was.
“It’s not possible,” he finally forced out. “It’s not…Mike, I…” His voice cracked, another cough building in his chest.
“Okay, okay,” Robby said, his tone shifting from urgent to soothing. “Let’s sit down, huh? You look like you’re about ready to fall over.”
Before Jack could protest, Robby led him through the department toward the breakroom. He deposited him in a chair at one of the tables, then turned to fill a cup with water. “Here, drink,” he instructed as he sat it in front of Jack.
Jack obeyed mechanically, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat. The simple act centered him somewhat, anchoring him to the present moment.
Robby pulled out a chair and sat down. “Now, what did Tanaka say?”
Jack stared at the cup in his hands. “Hanahaki,” he said finally.
“Shit. I thought it might be when they said Tanaka wanted to see you.” Robby sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “He’s the best, so there’s that at least.”
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, man. I haven’t been in love with anyone since Mari died.”
An expression he couldn’t place flicked across Robby’s face before shifting to disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
Jack frowned. “What’s with the tone? Why are you making it sound like I’m stupid?”
“Because you are,” Robby said without hesitation. When Jack just stared at him, Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” Jack demanded, irritation briefly overriding his confusion.
Your name was the only thing that left Robby’s lips.
Jack blinked and repeated it like a question. Like your face hadn’t just appeared in his brain. Like he didn’t instantly think about your smile, hear your laugh.
“Yes!” Robby threw his hands up in exasperation. “The woman you’ve been staring at with a besotted expression for the past eight months? The one you look for anytime you enter the department? The one whose coffee order you have memorized?”
No, no. That couldn’t be right. “But she’s—”
“Brilliant,” Robby stated. “Funny. Kind. Beautiful. Should I continue to list off everything you said to me the last time we went out? You talked about her all night, man.”
“I mean…I respect her.” The words felt inadequate even as he said them. Images of you flashed through his mind. The way you laughed at your own jokes even if no one else did, how you always remembered small details about people, that furrow that appeared between your brows when you were concentrating.
“She’s dedicated,” he continued. “Compassionate. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she’s never mean about it. And she’s…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he could continue talking about you for the rest of the day.
“She’s what?” Robby prompted, a knowing look on his face.
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t love her. I can’t.”
“Why not? Because you loved Mari? Loving someone else doesn’t erase what you had with her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jack argued, though he couldn’t have explained why if someone pressed.
“It actually is,” Robby replied, not unkindly. “You loved your wife. She died and it broke you. For a long time, I wasn’t certain you’d ever put yourself back together. But you have. And against all odds you found someone who makes you feel something again. Instead of being grateful, instead of grasping it with both hands, you’re literally making yourself sick denying it.”
“It’s not…I haven’t—”
“You have,” Robby interrupted. “Everyone knows you’re in love with her except you and her, apparently.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Just think about it, okay? Really think about it.”
As if on cue, another coughing fit seized Jack, this one stronger than the last. He doubled over, hand braced against the table as his chest contracted painfully. When it finally subsided, he found his palm filled with more petals, the edges tinged with blood.
“Holy shit.” Robby stared at the evidence in front of him.
Jack closed his hand around the petals, as if hiding them from view would make them cease to exist. “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.” He pushed himself to his feet. The room titled slightly, his vision blurring at the edges.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” Robby said standing as well, typing on his phone. “Let me have someone run you home.”
“I’m fine,” Jack insisted though the wheeze in his voice undermined his claim. “I just need some sleep. I need to rest.” He needed to get you out of his brain.
“You need to figure this out, Jack. Finding out you have Hanahaki would throw anyone for a loop, especially when you didn’t even realize you were in love. But this isn’t something you can ignore. It won’t just go away, it will only get worse.
Robby was right, Jack knew he was. He’d been ignoring what was happening for weeks, dismissing symptoms, making excuses. And now he was paying the price.
“I know. I’ll think about what you said. I promise.”
“Good. That’s a start. Now get your things together. Your ride should be here in a minute.”
Now, when Robby said ride, Jack assumed he meant an intern. An uber perhaps. What he did not expect to see when he stepped through the doors was you. You’d pulled your car to the side where it wouldn’t impede any ambulances and you leaned against it. It took him longer than he’d admit to realize you were waiting for him.
Jack spun on his heel to glare at his former best friend. “What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.
Robby gave him a look of feigned innocence. “Got you a ride.”
“You asked her?”
At that he grinned. “Actually, I sent a message to the group chat. She volunteered.”
“Oh.” He looked over to find you in the same position, your gaze moving between the two attendings. He lifted a hand in greeting and to let you know he’d be right there.
You nodded, waved at Robby and got behind the wheel.
“What do I do?” Jack asked, suddenly at a loss.
Robby rested a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, brother. Just let her take you home. Think about how you really feel about her. That’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Jack agreed with a nod of his head. “I’ll see you later.”
“Not tonight you won’t,” Robby corrected. “You’re off until Friday at the earliest. Doctor’s orders.”
Jack didn’t bother to argue. Knew there would be no point. And honestly, he could use a few days to get his head straight. He held up a hand in goodbye as he made his way to your car, his mind churning. What if Robby was right? What if he’d fallen in love without realizing it, what then? You had never given any indication you felt the same. The idea of confessing feelings that might not be returned…
Another cough built in his chest as if his body was responding to the thought. He swallowed hard, forcing it down. One problem at a time. First, he needed to get home. Then he needed to figure out if Robby was right.
As if sensing Jack was lost his head, you didn’t attempt to make conversation after your initial greeting once he got in the car. When you arrived at his house, he finally turned to look at you. “Thanks for the ride. I would have been fine driving but Robby insisted.”
“I didn’t mind, Jack. However, I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me just yet.”
His brows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“Bossman said, and I quote, ‘get his ass inside and into bed with a glass of water and trashcan nearby.’ So that’s what I’m going to do. Let’s go.” You climbed out of the car and waited for him to exit before locking the doors.
“I assure you that his is not necessary,” Jack argued. More than that, it could be catastrophic. Having you in his house, where he’d now be able to picture you clearly instead of relying solely on his imagination? That sounded like a horrible idea. Not that he’d ever pictured you in his house. Sitting across from him at the table, nestled into his side as you watched TV. That would be absurd.
You took his bag from his loose hold and ignored his protests as you carried it up to the door. Jack stared at you hopeless for another moment before sighing and following after you. “Keys are in the front pocket.”
You pulled them out and handed them over. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for you to follow after. He gestured at the hooks just inside the door. “You can hang the bag there.”
You did and kicked off your shoes, nudging them to line up against the wall. “Robby didn’t exactly say what was wrong with you.” You paused, but Jack didn’t offer any clarification. No, that would be a monumentally stupid thing to do. You cleared your throat. “Are you hungry? I could make you something.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m fine.” The endearment slipped out without thought. He suddenly wondered when the first time was he had called you that. And when had that become the norm instead of your name? Christ. He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”
You nodded. “Sure. Let me get you that water at least.”
Jack just nodded and headed down the hall toward his bedroom to fish out something to change into after his shower. You stepped into the doorway just as he finished taking off his leg. He froze and swallowed. “Sorry. Forgot you’d be coming back here.”
You smiled and Jack had to glance away. “It’s your home, Jack, and I’ve seen you without the leg before. It’s not like you were nude. Here.” You sat the glass on the nightstand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. I’ve got it. Thank you.” You had seen him without the leg precisely once when it started rubbing wrong on a shift and you’d made him sit down and get an exam. You’d also bullied him into supervising from a wheelchair for the rest of the night when you saw his red, raw flesh by threatening to call Robby and tattle on him.
Your gaze ran over him, assessing. He could feel it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes found yours again but he said nothing.
“You just seem off.” Worry shone in your eyes and he forced himself to look away once more.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
After a moment, you stepped toward the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.” When he only nodded, you added, “Promise?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat when he heard the gravel in his voice. “Promise.”
“Okay. Bye, Jack.” And with that, you left without waiting for a response.
Tension immediately flowed from Jack’s entire body. Jesus, Robby couldn’t have found literally anyone else to bring him home? He pushed thoughts of you from his head as he finished stripping. Using his crutches, he moved into the shower, ready to rinse the night off so he could get some sleep.
Not thinking of you lasted approximately two and a half minutes after he turned the water on. He’d turned the temp up on the water hoping it would help clear his lungs. His chest ached with each breath, a constant reminder of the flowers blooming in his lungs.
Flowers.
For you.
It was ridiculous. Yes, he enjoyed working with you. You were competent, smart, quick to smile and to make others laugh. You had a way with patients that made even the most difficult cases manageable. And so what if he’d noticed the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, or that you tapped your fingers when you were thinking?
But that didn’t mean he was in love with you. Love was what he’d had with Mari. All consuming, life-altering, the kind that left you devastated and broken when it was no longer yours. What he felt for you was…appreciation. Admiration, perhaps. Friendship. That was it. He loved you like a very dear friend.
Except friends didn’t keep mental lists of your favorite foods, or notice when you changed your shampoo, or come in on their nights off because you were working. Friends didn’t feel their mood lift the moment you walked into a room or find themselves replaying conversations long after they’d ended.
Jack groaned, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some teenager with a crush. He’d been married, for fuck’s sake. He knew what love felt like.
Or he had once. Before Mari died, leaving him hollowed out and certain he would never feel that way again. He’d adjusted to his solitude. To the bed being too big and the house too quiet.
But lately…
He sucked in a shaky breath as he finally admitted to himself that he’d been pursuing you without even realizing it. No wonder Robby had looked at him like he was an idiot. He was.
“I’m fond of her,” he said aloud, testing the words. “That’s all it is. A fondness.” It couldn’t be love, because if it was that meant—
His chest contracted sharply, another cough building. This one came on faster than the others, stealing his breath before he could prepare. He curled forward, one hand pressed to his sternum as his lungs spasmed. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, each breath harder than the last, until finally, blessedly, it subsided.
When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see dozens of petals swirling toward the drain. Proof, if he’d needed it that Tanaka was right. That Robby was right.
He was in love with you. For far longer than he cared to admit.
Tears mixed with the water running down his cheeks as his shoulders shook in a silent sob. He’d fallen in love with you and hadn’t even realized because it was so subtle, so quiet, compared to what he’d had with his wife. He’d lost out on so much time with you because he was too afraid to examine his feelings. To admit to himself what everyone else had known all along.
But what difference did it make really? Because even if he loved you, what then? You’d never given any indication you felt the same. No lingering looks or soft touches. Nothing to suggest you saw him as anything more than a colleague.
And why would you? He was damaged goods. A widower with a missing leg and more baggage than most people would want to deal with. You were vibrant, fully engaged with life in a way he had long forgotten. You deserved someone whole, someone who could love you without reservation or complication. Someone who didn’t still wake reaching for a wife that would never be there again.
Jack closed his eyes and took another shaky breath as he turned off the water. As he dried off and headed for bed, he considered his options. He’d meet with Tanaka and schedule the surgery. But he should talk to you first. He knew he should. But he was so fucking scared.
He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. You’d told him to call if he needed anything, but what if he only needed you? He could hear your voice, ask you to come back. He could tell you everything and hope maybe you felt the same.
He moved to the call button, then stopped. He needed to sleep first. Needed to be fully about himself before he decided how to approach this. It took hours of tossing and turning before he finally found rest, but even that was fitful.
He glanced at the clock when he woke to find it nearing seven. At least he’d managed a few hours. You were working, so his grand confession would have to wait. Maybe he could meet you after shift and take you to breakfast.
He was so lost in his head when he opened the bedroom door that he almost disregarded the rich aroma filling the air and the soft sounds from his kitchen. He frowned and moved into the other room, calling a soft “Hello?” as he went.
As he stepped into the doorway, you glanced at him over your shoulder and he sucked in a breath. You were here. In his home. Making dinner.
“You stayed?” he asked, voice rougher than intended.
You shrugged and turned back to the stove. “You didn’t look okay. I wanted to be close, crashed on the couch. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
He swallowed down the words that rose in his throat. No. Never. Stay the night. Stay forever. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Bossman gave me the night off. Told me to take care of you if I was that worried. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Thought I’d make you some soup.” You didn’t look at him, but he could hear the concern in your tone, the worry that he would be upset with you for taking care of him.
He just watched you move in his space like you belonged there.
Finally, you glanced at him again and gave him a small smile when you found him watching. “Where’s your bowls?”
“I’ll get them,” he said, suddenly desperate to do something.
It was a simple task but before he could even open the cabinet, he was seized by another violent coughing fit. He bent over the sink, bracing against the edge for support. His chest burned and his vision blurred at the edge. He vaguely registered you saying his name and a hand landing on his back, warm even through the fabric of his shirt.
When the fit finally subsided, he was horrified to see the petals that littered the sink.
You went completely still beside him. “Jack, are those…”
“It’s not…” he started then trailed off. There was no explanation he could give you beside the truth.
“Oh,” you said softly, your fingers curling in as you removed your touch from his back. You took a step away. “Who is it?” You sounded resigned, maybe even a little hurt.
The question hung between you. Jack remained braced against the sink, unable to look at you. “When my wife died, I thought I would never love anyone again. That it would be impossible. So, when it happened, I didn’t even realize it. Or I suppose it’s more like I ignored it.” He risked a glance at your reflection in the window above the sink. “I guess my body didn’t like that. It’s making me face it.”
“That wasn’t my question, Jack.” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it.
He turned to face you then, his hip leaning against the counter to take his weight. “Don’t you know, sweetheart? According to Robby, it’s obvious to everyone in the department that I’m crazy about you.”
Jack watched your face for your reaction. Anything. But your expression remained carefully blank aside from a slight widening of your eyes.
“Me?” you finally said, the word barely audible.
“Yeah.” Jack pushed off from the counter, using his crutches to move over to one of the chairs and dropping into it. He kept his gaze on anything but you. “But I don’t expect anything. You don’t owe me anything. I have options. I’ll be fine. I see the doctor again next week and I can get the surgery scheduled.”
“Jack Abbot, if you have that surgery, I will never forgive you.” Your sharp tone had his head immediately snapping over to follow you as you stepped toward him.
“What? Why?”
“Because it is completely unnecessary, you idiot. I have been in love with you for ages.”
Time seemed to stop. Jack stared at you, certain he’d misheard. “What?”
You came to a stop in front of him. “I’ve loved you for months, probably longer. I just didn’t think that you would ever…that you could ever…”
The rest of your sentence was lost as Jack pulled you forward into his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your lips as your eyes searched his. He leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
His lips found yours hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty as you responded. He laughed against your mouth as you turned and sat sideways in his lap. When he finally pulled back completely, the first thing he noticed was your wide smile and the joy in your eyes.
The second was, that for the first time in weeks—in six years, really—he could finally, simply, breathe.
happy 1000!! can you do “You’re lucky you’re hot because wow, you’re annoying” with parker ellis pleeeease i’m so in love with her
pairing: dr. parker ellis x f!reader | rating: mature. mdni | wc: 378 | fluff
warnings: crazy exes, mentions of stalking.
a/n: i need this woman in such an unhealthy way. thank you for your request, sweetheart. hope you enjoy it! 🤍
“no!”
“why not?”
“because i’ve played the fake couple thing before and all i got out of it was a black eye.” parker finally admits why she had been denying your request all day. “why do you want me out of all people to do that?”
parker and you have been next door neighbours for over five years now. she arrived a few months before you after transferring between med schools during her third year. she was the first person you met in the new city, the first one you befriended and also the first one you made out drunk and never talked about again for the sake of your friendship. you have also been there for the highs and lows of the other’s relationships so, in reality, this is not that new.
“eloyse is going to the party too and, apparently, she has been telling everyone that she was the one to breakup with me, and that now i’m the one grovelling and basically stalking her every single day. when we both know it’s the other way around.” you sigh. “i just need her to see that i’m over her.”
“baby, i love you, but no. that girl is insane. remember that month she thought you cheated on her with me?”
you do. it was the worst month of your life.
“please?” you beg.
“no. why me?”
“because you’re the only person i trust.” also because i still have this massive crush on you and i just want an excuse to get closer to you. you think, but you don’t say. “please.” you beg again.
parker sighs and looks at you for a couple of torturous seconds. “fine, i’ll go. you’re lucky you’re hot because wow, you’re annoying”
you squeal and run towards her to hug her. parker holds you tight in place and pulls her head back a couple of inches to say “but i’m not doing this for free, you know?”
you look her in the eyes only to find them making their way to your lips and back to your eyes. “name your price, p.”
“you and i are going on a real date after this. the one we should have gone years ago.”
with the biggest smile of your face, you say “deal.”
domesticblisss 2026. comments and reblogs are appreciated. dividers by @/uzmacchiato
Hey :) First fic for The Pitt fandom, starting with a bang. I hope you guys like it! Reblogs and comments are very appreciated ♥
This is a strictly no AI writing blog. Please do not feed my writing in any AI system either.
Series masterlist
Pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader
Word count: 5,255
Series tags: mid-30s!widowed!EMT!reader, widowed Jack, basically spiritual spouses to strangers to lovers, idiots in love, age gap my beloved, slow ish burn, two emotionally stunned assholes soft for each other, reader and Jack have known each other for like 15 years and knew each other's spouses, reader had a rough/abusive childhood, no use of Y/N but reader has a determined last name through marriage (used like once), reader not described in terms of hair/eyes/skin but heavily implied to be physically quite strong/has apparent muscles, reader is very bisexual.
Chapter warnings: Reader is on site for the PittFest shooting, medical inaccuracies, blood (lots of it), language, injured reader, flashbacks not in italics, Robby is not doing great lol.
Chapter Summary: Your shift at the PittFest takes a turn for the worse (as did everybody's evening, to be fair), leaving you in a funny position of being both the care provider and the patient. High adrenaline and near death experiences make you rethink your relationship with Jack how you'd like to take it a step further.
Dr. Abbot glanced at his phone for the twentienth time in a minute, the pressure in his chest growing with every second he didn't see a new text, or a call notification.
The first injured from the PittFest shooting would arrive any moment now.
Despite the impulse to look one more time, he put his phone on silent and shoved in in his locker, wasting no time to rejoin Robby and the rest of the staff to prepare for the impending chaos.
He'd have to set his personal feelings aside and reconcile with the meaning of still not having heard from you after the mess is dealt with.
•••••••••••••
Being a night shift EMT usually meant you were dispatched to the various festivals of Pittsburgh as on-site emergency responder.
The gig was simple, with most cases being dehydration and kids experiencing with drugs for the first time in an overwhelming environment. Sometimes your evening was even spiced up with stitches from a few unfortunate souls being accidentally kicked in the face in the pit, but the worst that really ever happened to you during those nights was being relentlessly puked on, which, at this point, didn't phase you anymore.
Needless to say, you hadn't planned your afternoon to turn so sour so quick until you heard the first gunshot from frighteningly too close for your liking.
Screams rose up like thunder as chaos erupted around you. Time slowed and your ears rang as you visually swept the festival grounds, realizing, much to your absolute terror, that the general movement of the crowd was moving away from you.
Despite your blood freezing in your veins, your emergency-trained brain took over and jolted you into action. With no time to think, you pushed the drunk girl you were attending to onto the ground and shielded her with your body as the next round of bullet rained upon you.
A sharp pain in your left arm sent ripples into your entire body, letting you know in no uncertain terms your had been hit. Despite this, your body pumped enough adrenaline through your entire system to keep you sharp and alert. Your uninjured arm shot up to quiet the whimpering girl under you until the gunshots began to echo farther away from you.
Once you were sure the shooter was far away from the med tent, you sat back up, watching in horror as both you and her were covered, covered in blood, so much that it couldn’t just be yours. Your eyes quickly found the source of the leak, noticing the bullet that had hit you had gone through the girl's thigh.
Fuck.
Grabbing the first roll of gauze in your belt, you immediately began stuffing the bullet hole with your thumb, then did the same for the exit wound. You rolled the rest around her thigh as her crying quickly turned into syrupy whining, indicating she was losing too much blood too fast. Probably nicked her femoral artery.
“Hey hey, stay with me” Voice voice was like a whip in the chaos, loud and commanding. Her eyes blinked, meeting yours. She was scared and in pain, and entirely too aware death was near. “Eyes on me sweetheart, don't look around, don't close ‘em, only on me”
In nearly 15 years as an EMT, you had an impressive rate of patient being delivered alive to the ER, if only for your sheer stubbornness and indomitable will to find a way out of sticky situations. Today wasn't the day you'd make those numbers lie, even if the odds definitely weren't in her favor.
“Mmm hurts”
“Yeah” You nodded as you secured the bandage that grew rapidly red. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Your hand reached for her discarded jacket, spinning it from one sleeve to make a long rope. “I need to slow down the blood sweetheart. I'll need to squeeze as hard as I can”
She mumbled something you didn't quite catch, letting you know you were running out of time. You quickly set the makeshift tourniquet above the bullet wound and tied the sleeves together, tightening the knot as tight as possible until her screams returned to a loud, sharp wail.
The blood somewhat stopped as her vocals returned to a sustained whimper, but you were still concerned by how much of it was pumped out of her. You reached into your belt and put another bandage on top of the other one to soak up the blood as the first dispatchers reached the festival ground. Being around the med tent, they reached you first with a gurney.
“One, two, three—”
Without any other instruction, you worked with the paramedics to get the girl secured with the straps.
This small movement however triggered the blood flow.
“Fuck, I'll need to hold pressure” You said to the two paramedics as your hands clamped around her thigh, one hand on the entry wound and the other on the exit wound.
“Are you sure you can hold it until we arrive at he hospital?” One of them asked you as you moved toward the ambulance.
“Positive” You nodded as you kept pace with the gurney. You felt the adrenaline keep your arms in place like vices. “I'll hold as long as she needs”
“Your arm—” The other pointed out. “You got hit?”
You barely glanced at it. “Yeah, fuck that I'm fine, let's go” The paramedics loaded the gurney in the ambulance while you climbed along with it.
The man got in the back with you while the woman went behind the wheel.
“You sure you're ok?” He asked as strapped the gurney to the floor, then placed an oxygen mask on the victim. “It's bleeding a lot”
You sighed. “Bandage it tight then. I'll deal with it at the hospital”
The man obliged as the ambulance lurched forward. A few seconds later, you were patched up as much as you could while holding pressure on a gunshot wound.
Between you squeezing the girl's leg like you where trying to smash it flat, the bumps on the streets of Pittsburgh and the paramedic dancing around administrating medicine and monitoring her vitals, you barely saw the ride to the hospital pass by, even though it must have felt like an eternity to anyone else.
You were greeted by a swarm of white-covered medics in the ambulance bay, who all rushed to you when they took in the amount of blood everywhere, slapping a red bracelet on the girl's wrist.
The paramedics yelled her vitals over the wails of the sirens, jogging along to the gurney being rushed into the ER. You felt the doctors trying to push you away, but you remained steady.
“Guys, I'm literally holding the wound closed, not a great idea to try and pry me off now” You snapped at the third attempt to make you back off. “I'm not letting go until we get in a trauma room”
Then, you heard your name being shouted over the noise, somewhat louder than the ambient chaos.
Your eyes followed the sound, landing on Dr. Jack Abbot and taking in the relief mixing through with the pure adrenaline coursing his body. In an instant, he was by your side, taking over this case.
“Fucking hell, I thought you were dead”
You huffed as Trauma 1 came into view. “Ah, can't get rid of me so easily”
“Talk to me”
“Bullet through the thigh, through and through, fully out as far as I know. She's lost too much blood though” Your words still carried through the noise of the machines. “But she's not gonna die today Abbot”
“Agreed” He replied dryly as he gloved up. You moved aside as much as you could while he took position by your side, ready to take over. A new face came to your other side to take over holding the wounds, but you tuned out the various unfamiliar names been thrown around along with barked orders.
You focused back when you heard your name.
“Let go on three”
The countdown began.
One.
Two.
Three.
You pulled your hands, but your muscles didn't obey. A half second of silence passed over the room as you tried again, but it was like you were frozen in place.
“Fuck me” You swore. Your muscles refused to cooperate, so strongly holding the leg, yet so weak to your command. You felt like your body was slowly alienating itself from your brain, like the sheer amount of adrenaline was too much to handle. “I'm locked”
Instantly, a woman you've never met stood behind you and grabbed your wrists in a vice grip. The countdown began again, and on three, she pulled your hands and your whole body away. You stumbled back upon her, then regained your footing and faced her.
“Thanks” You breathed out. “Doctor..?”
“Santos”
“Doctor Santos” You nodded, chest heaving with deep breath of relief, giving her a thumbs up as she looked you over.
“You good?”
You looked down too, taking in your blood covered arms and neck. Your tshirt and trousers were black, but the red stains were still obvious. You couldn't see the extent of the makeover, but you could feel it, sticky and congealing already, mixing with your sweat. With all of that blood all over you, you didn't notice how clammy your skin had become, or how the temporary relief of loosening your muscles didn't seem to ease off as the seconds passed.
“Yeah, most of it is not mine”
She didn't look convinced, but a call of her name drew her back to the girl on the table. With one last look at the army of doctors and nurses attending the girl, you nodded again and left the room, taking off your blue latex gloves and dropping them in the bin on your way out.
You didn't really notice where you were even going until someone grabbed your arm and began dragging you around.
“Fucking hell kid, what happened to you?”
“Dana” You greeted when your vision settled, not having noticed it even got blurry. Damn. “I'm fine, I'm fine. I gotta—” You hissed as you tried to refocus your mind. “Gotta go back to the festival, people need help—”
“Oh I promise you're in no state to help anyone” She scoffed as she sat you on one of the free chairs. “You look drunk”
You shook your head slowly. “Jus' a lil light headed” You corrected, widening your eyes a couple of time to force your vision back under your control. “I just need five, I'll be good to go”
She laughed dryly, completely devoid of humour. “No, I don't think so. What you need is— jesus christ did you get shot too?”
“Just a graze” You brushed off, feeling more and more tired by the second. You kept ignoring the fact that your breathing had not slowed down either, if anything, it had gotten faster and more shallow. “S'nothing”
“Like hell” She scolded, swatting your hand away when you tried to stop her from checking you over. She barely even looked at the hazardously placed bandage before she returned her fury on you. “Are you kidding— it fucking went through?”
“Huh?” You squinted, looking down at your left arm. That would explain a lot. The laugh that came out of you was as airy with dizziness and derision. “Ha, can't catch a fucking break can I?”
“Dumbass” She grumbled before she stood up straight. “I need a doctor over here!”
“Fuck off I don' need a doctor—”
“—Bullet went through the arm, she needs patching up'—”
“—Other people need it more—”
“—Gunshot… Losing blood—”
“—I'm… fine…—”
You couldn't help but give in when the darkness came for you this time, going limp in the chair until you crashed on the floor like a log.
•••••••••••••
The rain fell hard on the umbrellas like the skies themselves shared your grief. You stood quiet as the casket was lowered into the ground, the American flag neatly draped over the mahogany under. The sound of the trumpets were drowned by the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears as your husband, or whatever had been left of him, disappeared before your eyes.
You felt like screaming with the thunder, crying and wailing until your throat was raw, jump in there with him, but all you could do was stare.
The ceremony afterwards was beautiful.
You think.
Between the rehearsed thank yous and polite greetings, you had pretty much blacked out, wanting nothing else than to shut the world out and hibernate until the grief went away. You didn't even know it had been over until someone sat beside you on the porch's bench.
Your eyes remained fixed forward.
“They wouldn't even let me see him”
Jack Abbot wasn't often speechless, but this, this he truly didn't know what to say. He didn't think telling you that the pieces of man inside that casket wouldn't even look like your husband would help you. He didn't believe either that reminding you he was in this state because the kid had took a cluster bomb in the chest to save him would do anything to cheer you up.
“It's for the best” He finally mumbled, resting his eyes on your twitching fingers. “Better that your last memory of him be all of him”
You nodded slowly. He was right of course. Always the voice of reason. It's why your husband looked up to him so much. It didn't hurt any less though.
You swallowed the dry lump in your throat as his hand reached yours and squeezed lightly. You finally allowed your eyes to meet his.
“I…” You swallowed again. He didn't rush you. “I don't know if I can do it without him. If I even want to do it without him”
Something you couldn't described flashed in his eyes. He almost broke eye contact as your own vulnerability hit him like a brick. His hand squeezed tighter.
“You can” He said, then clear his throat. “You must”
“I'm not strong enough”
“You are” He said with such assurance that you almost believe him. “You will be, for Damian. He'd want you to live”
Your chest tightened at that. Your husband would never forgive you if you were to let yourself fade away completely without him. Yet, he wasn't the one who'd have to do it alone.
You were about to spiral again when the wooden steps up to the porch creaked, drawing your attention to the sound. There stood Sienna Abbot in all of her grace and tact, making a beeline for you.
You hadn't known how much you needed a hug before she took you in her arms and held tight. No words needed to be said as she embraced you like a big sister, like a best friend offering to share the burden.
You had met her for the first time when Damian had completed his base camp and chose his specialization, then being sent to the unit Jack was mentoring. As quickly as Jack had taken to mentor your husband, you had gotten closer to Sienna. She became your best friend, your closest confidante, the only person you trusted as much as your husband.
You had countless dinners at their places, a handful of stay in holidays as well. When your husbands got deployed, she offered to room together for support, and to fight the loneliness. It felt like you had known her forever, when it had been a couple of years at most.
You pulled back from the hug first. You had a feeling she was waiting for you to do it of your own accord.
“You're strong. You'll get through this. We'll be there for you” She whispered. “C'mon, let's go home now. We don't need to linger here”
She gently guided you to Jack's car as numbness slowly took over you, sitting in the backseat with you. After some time, you realized the unfamiliarity of the landscape.
“My apartment's not that way”
“We're not taking you there” Sienna took your hand. “You're not going through this alone, love. I want you to stay at our place until you get back on your feet”
•••••••••••••
When you woke up again, chaos had considerable quieted down to a soft background noise. Not that you'd care either way in your state, as you couldn't really think of anything beyond your immediate vicinity.
What you saw in there, or rather whom you saw made a loopy smile stretch on your lips.
“Robby”
The man jolted at being called upon, looking up from the clipboard with most likely your medical information and what had been done to you in the last few hours.
With a tired, exhausted smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, he put down the clipboard and turned to you. Just the way his body stood, you understood you might be the one coming out the most unscathed of the two of you.
“Look what we have here” He said as he rubbed his eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Grrreeeat” You beamed. “I feel…. fantastic”
“That makes one of us at least”
“You holdin up ok?”
Your drunken concern was unexpectedly touching, and before he knew it, he allowed himself to vent a bit. You'd most likely forget everything by the time you sobered up.
“Not really, Sweets” He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. “It's going really fucking bad”
You did not reply, but your attention, or whatever of it was currently available, was on him.
“I lost— I couldn't—” He shook his head. “I can't, I can't—” He took a deep breath, stopping himself from spiralling again.
“Robby. Robby listen to me” You said, and surprisingly enough, he listened. That's a first. “You're the best damn doctor in the world. No, no, don't try to say no— You are. If you couldn't save them…. nobody could”
He scoffed, leaning on the bed's rail and letting his head drop down. “You're the second person to say that”
“Well, it's right” You nodded. “And you know what too? You've been here too long. Go to sleep Robby. I'm the doctor now. I've got it”
He couldn't help but chuckle at that, pushing back the tears in his eyes. Maybe it's why he decided to randomly check up on you after his breakdown, imploring the universe that you'd wake up and give him just the little bit of strength he needed to finish this shift. And as usual, you answered the call, as you've always done in the more than ten years he's known you. Very high, very slow, but always truthful and helpful.
“Did you patch me up?” The change of subject was a welcome one.
He shook his head. “One of our resident, Santos, was hot on your trail after you went down. She's the one who took care of you”
You slowly blinked once, then did it again. “Cool”
There was a moment neither of you said anything.
“Hey”
“Yea?” He replied.
“You're a tall glass of water Robby” You parted your ancient wisdom upon him, making him cough an unexpected laugh. “Never forget that”
“Promise I won't” He chuckled.
“Hey Robby?”
He hummed, raising his eyebrows. His shoulders were already a little lighter.
“I need your professional medical opinion”
He nodded shortly, inviting your to continue.
“Do you think Jack and I have a shot?” Your words came slow, yet they still felt blurted out. “I don't know if I'm just high but damn. I don't know if I can keep pretending I don't want to ffffff-kiss him”
Sober you would have never said that, especially not to Robby. High you, however, had no such reservations.
“Woah Sweets” He exaggerated a grimace, but you could see his little grin come through. “You—” He pointed a finger in your direction. “Are definitely high off your rocks”
“Mmmyeah” You seem to accept the situation well as you already leaned back in the bed and closed your eyes, ready for the morphine to take you back. It was like you hadn't even been aware of what you had just said.
Robby observed you for a moment, at first with fondness for your surprisingly peaceful bluntness. But then, the more he looked, the sadder he became. He felt something break in his chest, leaving a hollow echo behind that he couldn't help but try to patch.
Today had been hard enough, too many losses, too many close calls, too many unhappy endings. He stepped closer to where your head was rested on the pillow and leaned forward. “You still with me?”
You smiled. “Yea”
He swallowed hard. “I know you're not gonna remember most of this but if you do…” He hesitated, the went for it. Too many unhappy endings. “Tell him. Stop dragging this along and tell him how you feel before you can't anymore”
You were gone again by the time he was done speaking.
•••••••••••••
The sun had been oppressing on that day.
Suffocating.
Batting down with scorn the small crowd reunited around a beautifully crafted cherry oak casket covered in flowers and pictures.
It was too bright, too hot, too much.
Jack could barely stand it or the people trying to talk to him.
It had been a car accident, so violent and so quick that she didn't even suffer for a second. Most likely, she didn't even see it coming at all before it killed her.
He didn't know if it was a comfort, or if the knowledge there was nothing he could have done to save her would haunt him for the rest of his days.
He was weary to the bone and people wouldn't stop. The respectful chatter around was too loud. The sun was too bright, his black suit was too tight. He had to get out of here.
And then, a hand slipped in his.
A blanket of quiet surrounded him, grounding him in reality. A shield from the unforgiving sun, and anchor steadying him.
No word needed to be said.
You stood beside him, taking his burden on your shoulders too, to let him breathe.
•••••••••••••
When you woke up again, gone was the euphoria of the morphine, leaving place to a throbbing headache, pain in your arm and light sensitivity making both even worse.
“Take it easy”
You groaned at that, throwing your good arm over your squinty eyes until Dr. Abbot gently but firmly brought it back down. Slowly, your eyes opened to take in the environment around—you had been placed in a quiet, out of the way hallway away from the chaos of the Pitt. They usually don't place patients there as it was the gateway to the five minute timeout corner, and no one wanted a frustrated patient to catch them going for a breather.
“Hey Doc”
“How y'feeling?”
“Hm.” You huffed. “I'm ready to roll. What time is it anyway?”
He checked the time on the board over the nurse station. “Almost eleven. Just cleaned up the mess”
You nodded very slowly. “Gotta discharge me now so I can sleep. Got an early shift this afternoon—”
He laughed, short and dry. “No I don't think so”
“You're not the boss of me”
He smirked, crossing his arms against his chest and looking around for something he knew damn well wasn't there. “Actually, I am”
You made a dismissive noise with a half-hearted wave of your hand, which seemed to amuse him more.
“I'm fine”
“You are?” He raised his eyebrows, then made a show of picking up the clipboard on the bed. “Let's go through it together, yea? Let's see, well, got shot—you knew that—” He paused, eyebrows raised as he intently stared at you, then dramatically flipped a page. “Major blood loss, dehydration, light concussion, and it seems your wrist is sprained too”
You frowned, grimacing. “My wrist?”
“When you collapse on the ground from all the aforementioned issues” He clarified with a smug little tilt of his head. He then poorly mimicked a wrist bent out of shape. “Fell right on it”
You rolled your eyes at how he shamelessly mocked you, even if it hurt doing it. Damn concussion.
“So I'm signing off on a medical leave for you” He leaned in to whisper, “And I'm not afraid to renew it as many times as it takes”
You sighed. “Cruel bastard. I hate you”
He chuckled. “Oh I know”
He seemed satisfied with your compliance for a second, then seriousness slowly but steadily washed all traces of his amusement. His hand found yours as he took a beep breath, tracing the wrist brace with his fingers.
“For a second there I thought…”
You looked at the side of his face, a softer look replacing your combative one. He took another breath, shakier this time. You let him recompose himself, not mentioning the fleeting show of emotions, not now and not to anyone else.
“I assumed the worst” He admitted. “When you didn't text. I should have known you couldn't, but I couldn't focus right until I saw you”
You recognized it took a lot for him to admit this—he probably wouldn't have if he hadn't been worn out to the bone. You squeezed his hand as much as you could with your brace.
There was a lot of things you wanted to say at that moment, reassure him, tell him you'd always come back for him, that you were in this hell together and no rogue bullet would be able to take you away from him.
The part of your brain that processed speech decided otherwise.
“Can I have my phone?”
A small jolt went through his body and he frowned in confusion, finally looking back at you. He definitely wasn't expecting that to be your reply.
Well, neither did you to be fair.
Carefully, he reached in his pocket and handed it to you, despite the questioning tilt of your head. You thought it would have been on the pouch attached to your bed, but Jack had kept it safe from sneaky opportunists with his own stuff.
Ignoring how it made you feel proved to be incredibly hard.
Holding the device certainly was a struggle with one arm sending thousands of tiny electric bolts every time you slightly moved and the other restricted with the brace, and on top of that, the bright screen hurt your eyes like it personally hated you, but you finally managed to do what you needed. Not a second later, you turned the screen off and dropped it face down on the bed.
“There” You said, “I turned on location sharing with you”
The question marks in his eyes only grew tenfold.
“24/7. Anytime you need, no need to request” You explained. “You'll see where I am. If I'm moving. If I'm away from the hot spots”
“What? I can't— I don't—” It took a moment to string his words together. “I don't want you to think you have to do this, I don't want to seem like I need to know—”
“Hey,” You cut him rambling off. “I want that. For my peace of mind. And beside, I trust you with it”
Something passed over his eyes, but was gone as quickly as it came. He nodded slowly, breath catching his shoulders on the way up. He nodded again in lieu of a verbal answer, but you knew him enough at this point to know it was just as meaningful as his words.
“Jack?”
His eyes snapped up to meet yours again.
“The girl I brought in..?”
The fact that he didn't immediately shut down was encouraging.
“Stable, for now” He began, and you knew that word to be neither a positive not a negative. “She lost a lot of blood, but—” He chuckled, looking down and shaking his head. “Do you still believe in fate?”
Your expression became hesitant for a second. “… Sometimes”
“She had an emergency bracelet on her wrist with he medical information. Blood type AB positive. She didn't have to wait for O neg”
“Shit, okay, that was lucky” You mumbled.
“Lucky you say” He repeated to himself, then frowned. “I am most certain she survived because the bullet was deviated and slowed down by something, for some reason”
It took a second of your brain thinking his words over before you slowly looked down to your bandaged left arm. You winced, whispering, “Ohhhh I think that something was me”
His gaze followed yours until they landed on your injury. He pointed at it like it had been the key to the whole thing.
“Makes sense now” He mumbled, eyes fixated on it. He had seen enough gunshot wound to understand how bullets made their damage in the human body, and how speed and angle mattered for survival rate. He had spend a bit too long thinking about the girl's wound, trying to reconstruct the events leading to it. With your information, he had a much clearer picture of it all.
“If the bullet went through you first, it likely slightly changing its trajectory. I'm pretty sure a direct hit would have sliced that artery clean. She would have been dead before you even began bandaging it. As it is, it seems the bullet only damaged part of the membrane”
Your eyes widened. “What”
He nodded. “Or at least I think that's how it went. Slower bullet makes for messier entry and exit wounds, messier everything actually, but this time, it might have saved her life”
You scoffed in disbelief, a small, cautious smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
“She's still not out of the woods yet, we still don't know if her heart will be able to recover from the blood loss” He warned. “But…”
You let your head gently fall back on the bed. “Holy shit… Yeah, I still take that as a victory”
“You should” He agreed. “Good job out there. If she makes it through, it'll be because of you”
You gave him a smile, which turned a bit sad. Before you could even say it, Jack fended you off.
“Don't start” He scolded. “Don't even think about it”
He was right of course. Has he even been wrong? You, and him for that matter, often forgot that saving even one life was colossal. It was easy to think you could always do more, save one, two, three more live if you just pushed through. You had spent the last few years taking turns reminding the other of it.
Tell him how you feel.
You almost frowned at the thought echoing in your mind like a distant memory. Bits and pieces came to you, you knew you had been told that. Told by whom? You did recall talking to Robby while high, but had no clue about what. But why would Robby ever talk about that?
“You okay there?”
“Hm?”
You must have suddenly looked deep in thoughts, because Jack was suddenly looking quite concerned.
“You blanked out for a moment”
You gave him a smile. “Probably just whatever's left of morphine in my system”
He didn't look convinced, but didn't press it either. “We're about to go grab a beer in the park. I'll discharge you on my way back and we can go home, ok?”
“Sure” You nodded, replacing yourself on the bed as comfortably as you could. “Enjoy, you guys deserve it”
oh, friends. You get my middle of the night tirade.
Someone on wattpad attempted to educate me about how petty and spiteful I was to take out my dislike for one woman on all content creators.
Because i said I didn't want HP on my dash and would be unfollowing whoever made it appeared there. (for those that don't know wattpad now has a "social feed" where you are forced to see any book someone you follow adds to a list or any comment they make on something they are reading. I hate it.)
I am beyond livid. I deleted their comment and blocked their ass. Then I posted this:
Listen, I am very well aware that not everyone shares my views when it comes to HP stuff. I have actively disengaged with her IP on all platforms. My trans friends and readers knowing that my area is a safe space for them is more important.
If you are still writing for her IP you are supporting her. Full stop. You are keeping the property alive which she actively uses money from to harass and harm others. Period. I deleted all content I had created for HP including three series I was working on to post. It's not hard to choose people over a fandom.
If you want to unfollow me, unfollow. If you want to block me, block me. But do not come onto my page and attempt to "school" me. It will get your comment deleted and you blocked. Me not wanting to see things on my dash (which wattpad has now forced) has nothing to do with you really. I only posted as a curtesy in case someone noticed I unfollowed and wanted to know why.
Summary: You loved Robby enough to build a life around him once. The kind of life you thought people only talked about. Then things changed slowly, and then all at once, until the man beside you no longer felt familiar. Time apart was supposed to make things easier. Instead, a series of circumstances forces the two of you back into the same room, where everything left unsaid is still waiting.
Pairing: Husband! Robby x Wife! reader
WC: 6.5k
Warnings: 18+, smut, stressful work life, mentions of depression, not accurate lmao, strained marriage, arguments, lying, toxic dynamics, inappropriate workplace behavior, jack and mckay are two of reader’s close friends, mentions of a previous miscarriage, mentions of langdon’s addiction, fade to black at the end.
(this was my first robby fic, i hope i captured him well lol)
Working in the Pitt was its own kind of hell, a hell where life was sucked out of you. No fun, no laughs, only stress.
Before Michael, all you knew was work, home, and the few hours of sleep that you allowed yourself after your shift.
It was a cliche thing to say, but you always swore that your life brightened some when he came into it. He had a way about him, a way about him that made you feel at ease.
How the hell your marriage ended up in a spot where you were heavily considering divorce was beyond you. It had been another night of you trying to be there for him, but it turned into a fight— it always did. Your words were always wrong and rotten, no matter how softly they were spoken or how sweet they were laced.
Robby was a ticking time bomb and you weren’t going to let him drag you down with him. It was so unfair, because he acted as if you didn’t struggle too— like you didn’t also have a lot on your plate at work. It was all about him and his feelings.
The thought of your marriage being at that point was foreign, ridiculous even. You loved him and he loved you, how could things sour when that mattered most? How could you give up on him?
Robby was the man that couldn’t see yourself without, the one that made you smile at work, the one that would drop anything to be there for you.
Why would you abandon him when he just needed help?
God, you felt so fucking guilty for even considering it. The guilt gnawed at you every time you thought about it, you were being unfair.
He just needed space, is what you told yourself— hoping that it would turn out differently.
When the two of you got together it was with the help of Jack, he kept giving hints about how you’d do well together and how you two were looking for the same thing. How both of you had been alone for quite some time.
You brushed him off, because you weren’t looking for anything or anyone. You were okay with being by yourself and you had been okay with that for a really long time.
When you finally caved and said yes to the “blind date”, Jack joked that it would be it — you’d never be single again. Robby would be the one for you, the one that would make you change your mind.
You would roll your eyes and mock him, but he was right.
“Fuck.” You whined, your ass bouncing on his cock.
He smacked your ass, biting his lip.
“There you go, sweetheart.” He coached.
It had been so long since you had been touched, Robby was only the second person that you had ever slept with. It felt so fucking good, but you’d told yourself beforehand that it wouldn’t go that far. You didn’t plan to fuck him after the third date, you just couldn’t help yourself— he was so charming.
“I’m gonna cum—“
“Fuck, Robby.” You rasped, your pussy clenching around his cock.
“That’s it baby.” He groaned, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he kissed you again.
You kept riding him, riding out your orgasm while his cock twitched inside you.
“I’m so fucking close.” He panted.
You loved this, every fucking moment of it. “You can cum inside me, I’m on the pill.”
He looked at you, “you sure?”
You nodded.
It didn’t take long before Robby’s deep, guttural groans filled the air— his cum coating your walls.
The two of you stayed in each other’s arms, falling asleep together and waking up together the next morning.
You knew then that Jack was right, Robby was it.
A year later the two of you were married, married at the cathedral that you’d picked out.
It was perfect in every way imaginable and you had smiled more than you ever had in your life. The way that Robby looked at you, held your hand through every moment, whispered cute things into your ear— he was your soulmate.
Your wedding wasn’t big, but it had everyone who mattered there. It was exactly what the two of you had envisioned and talked about on numerous occasions.
Shortly after the wedding, the two of you started house hunting. You both sold your houses and wanted a space that was picked by both of you, something where you could potentially start a family.
Having children was something that you never considered, something that you had written off years ago. I mean, the Pitt was your life— it was all that you had time for. However, experiencing love and being loved made you feel differently about it.
Before you got married, the two of you were also on opposite shifts—just barely able to spend time together. With a little persuasion, you joined the day shift, which made things ten times easier for both of you.
Years later…
You took the empty chair at the nurses station, wanting to rest your feet. The emergency room was buzzing with patients, talking, and machines beeping— you could barely hear yourself think.
“Don’t go to sleep on us.” Dana spoke, nudging you as you blinked slowly.
You wanted to cry internally and externally, “I couldn’t even if I tried.”
The entire day had been more non-stop than usual and you were exhausted, truthfully beyond exhausted.
You glanced at your watch and stood up from the chair, dragging yourself to the next task— going to the bathroom for peace and quiet. On the way to the bathroom, you caught Robby once again grilling Samira for being too slow.
You watched as she walked away, looking like a bit more of her confidence had been shaved off.
Robby walked out of the room, putting hand sanitizer on his hands.
Things between the two of you were already tense, but you were going to say something— you had to. Not just because he was your husband, but his behavior and attitude was getting ridiculous. The low point in your marriage was an all new low, lower than it had ever been. You believed that it was something every marriage went through, something your marriage would overcome— but as the nights passed your confidence dwindled. Your patience for his treatment of you and everyone else thinned.
His behavior at home had been carried with him at work, the one thing he always warned everyone about. It was downright embarrassing to you and him.
He was losing himself right before your eyes— snappy with everyone, sleeping less, and talking less. You were losing your husband and you couldn’t stop it. You wanted to guide him through it and be there for him, but he only pushed you farther away. It had gotten to the point where you drove your own car to work and that you could barely work with him, without arguing.
He was affecting you and your career, he was ruining you.
You walked beside him, “can we have a word?”
He scoffed, the lines near his eyes deepening.
“Here we go—“
“Again.” He muttered.
You walked in front of him, halting his steps and trying not to let his words make you angry.
“Robby, you cannot keep treating Samira that way.” You gently reminded him.
“Dr. Mohan.” He corrected you.
Your brows furrowed, a confused look on your face.
“What?”
He pressed his hands together in front of him, his lips pursed and brows slightly raised.
“She is Dr.Mohan. We are professionals and she is not your friend, she is Dr. Mohan.”
You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.
“We are professionals, you’re right— but that isn’t a lesson that I need.”
He pulled his shoulders back in offense, pointing his finger at himself.
“Are you trying to say that I need a fucking lesson in professionalism? That’s rich.”
“Robby.. what I’m saying is that—“
“Your treatment of her, constantly nagging and knocking her down a peg.. is unprofessional and comes off sexist.” You stammered.
He stared at you in disbelief.
“You, my lovely wife— are unbelievable.”
“I only say this out of concern, Michael. I love you, but—“
“Just because we are married does not mean that you can talk to me this way, I am still your superior. You need to remember your place and get back to work, we do not have time for bullshit.” He gritted.
You were admittedly startled by his tone, it sent shivers down your spine. The way that he so casually brushed you and your concern off, the way that he pulled the authority card.
It was as if the rose colored glasses that you had on and the excuses for him instantly vanished, that was it— the final straw. It wasn’t something big or catastrophic like you had imagined, it was that.
Your eyes watered as you stared at your husband, the eyes of your coworkers on both of you.
Robby stared at you and you didn’t even recognize him, his eyes no longer held the sanctuary that you used to get lost in.
You leaned close to him, making sure that he could hear you perfectly.
“I can’t do this anymore, Michael.. I thought that I could and that I could tolerate your cruelty, but I can’t.”
His brows raised, “my cruelty?”
“You need to get your shit out of the house and be gone by the time that I am at home.” You added.
Your words were sharp and short, no more apologies and excuses— just straight to the point.
He feigned a smile and nodded, walking away without saying anything.
You turned around to see everyone staring after, considering it was obvious the two of you were arguing.
“What the fuck is everyone looking at?” You yelled, tears finally falling from your eyes.
Dana stared at you a moment longer, before averting her gaze.
“She’s right people, this isn’t a zoo— get back to work!”
Although you appreciated her effort to keep eyes off of you and your failing marriage, everyone knew— it was obvious. Everyone noticed how things between the two of you seemed strained, how easily Robby snapped, or how it seemed like your light dimmed.
You loved him, but this was ridiculous and it just couldn’t continue— not this way.
After your shift, you went home and he was gone— along with his things. He didn’t even hesitate.
You stayed later for charting, hoping for anything from him— but there was nothing. You didn’t know what hurt worse, him not trying or him treating you that way.
When you got home, you realized that you still had a vial in your pocket and needed to return it. You drove back to the hospital, hoping to be in and out.
“Back so soon?” Dana questioned as she prepared to walk out of the door herself.
You held the vial in your hand, showing her. “I needed to return this.”
Dana stopped you in your tracks as you went to walk past her, her hand on your shoulder and her eyes giving you a look that you knew all too well.
“What was that with Robby earlier?”
You fidgeted with the vial, fighting back the tears that wanted to fall from your eyes again.
“He’s.. uh, just having a day— I guess.”
She leaned in closer to you, her brow slightly raised.
“He shouldn’t be like that with you, that isn’t okay and you don’t deserve it.”
You nodded, biting the inside of your lip.
“Tell me about it.”
Dana rubbed your shoulder and gave it a pat before she continued on her way while you continued on yours.
It was embarrassing, embarrassing that your marriage couldn’t even struggle in private— that everyone knew.
The emergency room had quieted some from earlier, but not by much. Dr. Abbott and Mateo were approaching the desk when you walked by, your mind completely focused on the task at hand and nothing else.
You were in the middle of returning the vial when Jack came to the side of you.
“What are you doing back here?” He asked.
You took a deep breath, your eyes red from crying and hands unable to stop shaking.
“I just brought back that vial, I realized I still had it in my pocket.”
He stared at you, his eyes raking over you and your appearance.
“Talk to me.”
Your brow raised, “about?”
He leaned against the wall, glancing around and making sure that the two of you were alone.
“I’ve heard about it, I mean everyone has— tell me what happened.”
You wiped your mouth, a sigh of defeat escaping your lips— your eyes sore from crying.
Jack grabbed your hand and guided you into a nearby empty room, shutting the door behind him.
“He’s just.. he’s slipping. I don’t know what’s going on, but nothing I say is right or okay. He’s an asshole most of the time, like I don’t even recognize him.. my own fucking husband.” You stammered.
Jack watched you, he watched how you also looked like you were falling apart and how you seemed completely alone.
“Why did he argue with you in front of people? What brought that about?”
You wiped your tears, shaking your head.
“He was scolding Dr. Mohan again. It’s like he’s always on her ass about one thing or another and she’s trying, she’s fucking trying.” You choked.
Jack tilted his head slightly and walked closer to you, pulling you into a hug.
“Hey, hey— it’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay and so will you.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
You pulled away, sniffing.
“Don’t, this isn’t your mess to clean up and I don’t want him getting upset over this too.”
“I don’t like him treating you this way. I won’t tolerate it.”
“It’ll be fine, just trust me.” You pleaded.
He rubbed your arm, “are you positive?”
You nodded, pulling a paper towel from the dispenser to blow your nose.
“Have you—“
“Have you told him about the medical emergency that you had?”
You turned to Jack, your mind clouded by the hum of the light overhead and everything else.
“Oh, the miscarriage?”
He folded his arms, leaning against the counter— his brow raised.
“No.. no. I just didn’t think he’d handle it well—“
“You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone, that is not okay.” Jack interrupted.
You shrugged, your lips pursed.
“I didn’t go through it alone, I had you and McKay.”
“You needed your husband, not just us. He should’ve been there, he would’ve wanted to be there.”
“What was I supposed to do, Jack? Hmm?—“
“Tell my already suicidal husband that during his own meanness and selfish worries, I had a miscarriage. The baby that we once talked about, I lost?”
He nodded, “yes.”
You laughed in disagreement, “that totally would’ve gone well.”
“Maybe, it would’ve changed things for him— made him actually seek out help.”
“It would’ve just changed how soon he’d put a gun in his mouth.” You digressed.
“He will get through this, he will.” Jack spoke, his voice coming out softer for reassurance.
“I told him to pack his things after earlier.. I told him to be gone before I got home.”
“Well, was he gone?” Jack questioned.
“Yeah, most of his things were gone.” You sighed.
“Is that what you wanted?”
You threw your hands up in defeat, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want anymore, Jack. I am just tired of the back and forth, of this, of..”
You stopped yourself before you could finish your sentence, but both of you knew what it meant.
Mateo opened the door, interrupting the conversation.
“I need you right now.”
Jack looked at him and back at you, “I’ll be right back.”
Once he left, you took a few minutes to calm down before driving back home— but you left before he came back to the room. You were tired and wanted to go home. You needed to go home.
When you got home, you took a shower and practically collapsed. You didn’t have the mental capacity or energy to think about Robby. You barely had the capacity to think about yourself.
The next morning you had overslept and were running behind. You glanced at your phone as you rushed to get ready.
Two missed calls from Robby and three texts from him.
Is everything okay?
Where are you? They said that you didn’t call out.
If I don’t hear from you in the next twenty minutes, I’m leaving work and coming to the house.
You were more flustered about being late than anything else, so texting Robby back was the last thing on your mind at that moment.
You rushed in, your eyes still red and puffy— your voice hoarse.
“There she is! We were worried.” Dana smiled.
You set down your tumbler on the desk. “I overslept, I didn’t mean to.”
Langdon looked up from his chart, staring at you and how you looked. He wanted to ask if you were okay, but you were already walking away before he could.
You were walking to the bathroom, hoping to pee quickly before diving in. Robby appeared out of what seemed like thin air, leaning against the bathroom door in front of you.
“You were late.. an hour late, what happened?”
You scratched your brow, “I overslept.”
He bit his lip, “is that all? Or is there something that you’re not telling me?”
You rolled your eyes, signaling for him to move from in front of the door.
“For Christ sake, Michael l— I just overslept because I was exhausted. I was sad and exhausted, nothing more.”
Robby nodded and moved out of your way, walking back the other direction.
Dealing with him and the stress of what he was dealing with was making you snappy, making you act ugly towards other people. You weren’t being yourself.
When you came out of the bathroom, you bumped into Mckay.
“Are you okay?”
You scoffed, “what do you think?”
“That’s fair. If you’re interested, I need your assistance with this patient. She accidentally almost cut three fingers off.”
You agreed, putting hand sanitizer on your hand as the two of you approached the room.
After observing the wounds yourself and talking with the patient, you pulled your gloves off— standing up from the stool.
“Can you have Yoyo come check this out? I’m certain that it’s going to need more than just stitches.” You spoke to Cassie.
She nodded, picking the phone up from the hook on the wall near her.
You exited the room, putting on more hand sanitizer— your thoughts interrupted by Santos approaching.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Sure, what’s up?” You replied.
She glanced around, her hands in her pocket— “privately.”
The two of you went into an empty room and you didn’t know what to expect, quite frankly you were a little afraid.
Santos stood there, hesitant to open her mouth and tell you why she needed to talk.
“Everything okay?” You questioned, staring at her and her lost expression.
“I think that Langdon is stealing drugs from the hospital.” She blurted.
Her words threw you for a loop, like a prank was being played.
“Langdon?—“
“Frank?”
She slowly nodded, “yes.”
You crossed your arms, your eyes blinking more in that minute than they had since you’d woken up.
“What makes you say that? That’s a serious accusation, Santos.”
“There have been a few discrepancies with benzos on two cases of his.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose.
“You’re absolutely positive?”
“Yes.”
You sighed. “Okay, I’ll handle it from here—“
“Thank you for reporting it.”
She stood there a minute longer before exiting.
When she left, you started to laugh. It wasn’t due to anything being humorous— but it was the cherry on top. Robby’s star pupil was potentially stealing drugs from the hospital and you were going to tell him, it was the last thing that you needed.
Robby was busy, so you sat down and did the notes on a chart. You were so overwhelmed from the information that you could barely think straight.
Time passed with more people coming into the ER, so you had been too busy to talk to Robby— too busy to do anything.
You shook your head, walking from the last patient you had spoken to when you saw him. He glanced up from his iPad, staring at you.
“I need to talk to you.” You mouthed.
He put down the iPad, pulled off his glasses and walked towards you at the end of the hallway. The two of you hadn’t talked about what happened yesterday and he had hoped that you would, just maybe not at that moment.
“What’s going on?”
You leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath.
“Santos came to me earlier and made a troubling accusation—“
Robby sarcastically smiled, thinking that it would be nonsense.
“I can’t wait to hear this.”
“She accused Langdon of stealing drugs from the hospital.”
His smile dropped, “what the fuck are you talking about?”
“She said that on two occasions there have been clear and obvious discrepancies with benzos.”
“And she’s sure?” He questioned, gritting his teeth— his hands on his head.
“About as sure as she can be.”
Robby’s hand smacked the wall as he walked away from you and didn’t say anything else.
“Robby!” You yelled, calling after him to no avail.
Robby disappeared around the corner and you let him, you were just too tired to chase after him and try talking to him. It wasn’t worth the fight.
You made your way back over to the desk, rummaging through one of the drawers to find a report to fill out. Your task was interrupted as they always were, Whittaker asking for a hand.
The thoughts in your mind came and went at such a rampant speed that you couldn’t keep track. If you weren’t thinking or worried about your husband, you were thinking about how you felt inadequate and wanted to give up.
It was tiring.
You made quick work of helping Whittaker and returned to filling out the report. The report was tedious and exhaustingly long, you had finished most of it when you saw Robby again..
“I filled out the report, most of it anyway. I’ll just need your signature and get it sent to HR.” You mentioned, now walking beside Robby.
He rubbed hand sanitizer into his hands, “that won’t be necessary.”
You tilted your head in confusion, “what won’t be necessary?”
“The report, I handled it. Langdon is gone and it’s unnecessary.”
You stopped in your tracks, your feet squeaking slightly against the floor.
“You’re joking, right?”
He glanced at you, “nope.”
You grabbed his hand and forced him into the newly empty room that was closest to you. The smell of disinfectant lingering in the air.
“What Langdon did was a crime, it should be reported.”
He folded his arms in front of him.
“Santos reported it to you, you told me, and I handled it. There’s nothing more to it.”
You scoffed, shaking your head.
“He stole drugs and you’re trying to salvage his fucking career? Trying to help him out?”
Robby took a deep breath, holding his eyes shut for a moment.
“I am the senior attending, I don’t have to explain shit to you! I said it was handled and I meant that.”
You bit the inside of your lip, stepping closer to him and closing the gap between the two of you.
“You once again cut slack for Langdon, but you’d never do the same for me, or McKay, or Mohan— why is that?”
“We move just a little slower or become a step behind, take a small break, or make the wrong decision and you’re immediately riding our ass. Your precious pupil is a drug addict and you still spare him!”
Tears welled in your eyes, your lip beginning to quiver.
“I am doing my job and I don’t appreciate you taking me away from it, because you want to be emotional— because you can’t leave your self esteem issues at the door.” He hissed.
Your mouth was agape and it felt like your heart stilled in your chest for a moment.
“Wow.. just when I thought that you couldn’t get any lower.” You mumbled.
You stormed out of the room, Robby called your name and sounded remorseful— but you didn’t even bother.
The shift was the shift that kept on giving, no break in sight for you or anyone that day— especially after the pittfest nightmare.
You were so tired after that shift that you could barely keep your eyes open, you even fell asleep in the shower.
It was one of the hardest shifts that you had worked in a while, but nothing was harder than dealing with your husband— accepting how he was now.
After everything, you realized that you needed a break— you took off a week and simultaneously put in a transfer to another hospital. You couldn’t work with Robby anymore or just at that hospital in general.
You needed space and a lot of it.
Are you not coming in today?
Nevermind, I heard that you took time off. Take care of yourself.
Did you really put in a transfer request? You’re leaving the hospital, because of me?
I am sorry, baby.
Please, talk to me. I want to talk.
You ignored every text that Robby sent and reading them was like a knife twisting in your stomach. Things could have been so different.
All he had to do was accept your help, but even that was an unreasonable ask.
During your time off, you spent a lot of time lounging around your house—sorting things and watching a bit of some tv show.
It was odd being completely alone at home, Robby’s things being gone— his scent still lingering. You had been with Robby for years, made your life around him and now you were preparing for a life without him. A life without the man that you spent years loving and accepting.
You sat on the couch in your pajamas, scrolling through the options on Netflix— hoping to find something that would distract you.
Your phone dinged with a text from Jack.
Are you doing okay?
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, because that was the million dollar question— were you okay?
You: I’m okay, as okay as I can possibly be lol. Thanks for checking in on me though!
He started typing, then stopped, and then started again.
I came in to fill in for you and Robby came to me shortly after our shift started.
You: Why? Was he okay?
He brought up what happened between the two of you, mentioned that he’d really fucked up.
You: I’m not sure what to say.
I didn’t know what to say either, I just hope this means that he’ll get the help he needs.
You: I hope so too, but we’ll see.
He misses you, I think more than he’s letting on.
You read Jack’s last text and didn’t respond, you weren’t sure what to say— not really.
It'd been two months since you left the Pitt, two months since you’d separated from Robby.
You had gotten used to the silence that lingered in your life now, used to not waking up beside Robby, used to the new hospital that you worked at.
At this hospital things were different, the unit wasn’t much of a “family” like you were at the Pitt. Each of you did your job and went home, that was it. Surprisingly, you didn’t mind it— not at much as you thought you would.
You sat in the lounge, mindlessly scrolling on your phone when a text came through from Robby.
I just want to warn you, I will be stopping by the house to grab something from the garage. I won’t be there long.
You: That’s fine, I’m not sure I’ll be there though. Do you still have your key?
Yes.
Things between you and Robby were stuck in limbo, they weren’t inherently improving nor were they getting worse.
It had been two months and you had cancelled three divorce consultations, unable to go through with it. The two of you barely talked and had been living separately, you couldn’t understand why you were hesitant.
He’d text you every now and then, checking in on you and letting you know that he missed you. Each text made your skin warm and made your stomach flutter, you still were in love with him— even when you shouldn’t have been.
You missed him— you missed seeing his face, feeling his arms around you, missed hearing his voice, and his snores in the bed beside you.
A text came through, this one from McKay.
Are you still coming over tonight? There’s so much that I have to tell you.
You: Can we do it tomorrow night, instead? I don’t feel well and there’s something that I need to handle.
Sure! No problem.
Thankfully, the work day didn’t drag on and was finished before you could even begin to complain. You wanted to go home, pour yourself a glass of wine, and fall asleep watching some shitty reality show.
When you got home, Robby wasn’t there— you had missed him. You did however find a bouquet of roses on the counter with a note attached.
These are for you, your favorite flower— but still nowhere as beautiful as you. I am sorry for how I treated you, what I ruined between us. I do hope that one day you’re able to forgive me. I love you more than anything. — Michael
You sat the card back onto the table, tears welling in your eyes. You picked up your phone, your finger hovering over the text thread between the two of you.
You: Thank you for the flowers.
You’re welcome, do you like them?
You: Yes.
You: Would you like to come over?
You held your breath after you sent that text, the feeling of regret already creeping into your stomach.
Everything okay? or do you want me over there for something else?
You: I just want to talk.
I’ll be there in thirty.
You liked his message and there was a lump in your throat, you were supposed to be keeping your distance from him— not inviting him over.
You turned off the lights, leaving only the lamp near the front door on— lighting the vanilla candle that also sat on the table.
While trying to process what you did, you took a hot shower— hoping that maybe you’d change your mind afterwards. The water rinsed over your skin, the steam filling the bathroom as you stood there deep in thought.
Could your marriage truly recover? Was this a mistake?
Once you were out of the shower, you threw on one of your baggy t-shirts and made your way back downstairs. You were going to tell Robby nevermind, but as soon your foot touched the last step— the doorbell rang.
Your heart raced as you walked to the door, your fingers sweating when you unlocked it and opened it.
Robby stood there, his eyes raking over your appearance— wet hair, his baggy college t-shirt, and no pants on.
“You wanted me to come over?” He asked, walking past you and down the hall.
You locked the door, your words hung in your throat as you followed him into the kitchen.
“Did you mean it—“
“Do you mean what you wrote on the notecard?” You mumbled.
He leaned against the kitchen counter.
“Every word of it.”
You held back the tears that threatened to leave your eyes.
“Why now? It’s been two months.”
“Two months of agony, two months of feeling like I cannot breathe, two months of feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.”
You bit your lip and just stood there, somehow he felt like your husband again— like the man that you’d fallen in love with years ago.
“You need help, Michael.. professional help that I cannot give.”
He nodded, a pained look on his face.
“I know.”
Somehow in the midst of talking, the two of you ended up closer than you should’ve been— his body against yours.
Robby titled his head, his eyes staring into yours while one his hands rested against your hip.
“I’m sorry for leaving you.” You muttered.
“You had to, baby. I don’t blame you one bit.” He replied softly.
His hand came up to your cheek, his thumb rubbing against it. You felt like you could melt into him, melt like you always did.
“I missed you.” He confessed.
“I missed you too.”
There was a silence, a heat between the two of your bodies.
He gently pressed his lips against yours, his hand cupping your face. He kissed you like he was scared he’d be punished for it, waiting for you to push him away— only you didn’t.
You kissed him back and you welcomed it.
The kiss deepened, your tongue sliding into his mouth.
“I missed you so much, baby.” He breathed in between kissing.
You pulled your lips from his, grabbing his hand and bringing him to the bedroom. As soon as you were in the room, his lips were back on yours.
He pulled off your t-shirt, leaving you completely naked.
“You look.. so beautiful.”
You pulled Robby’s shirt off, your fingers raking over his hairy stomach as he placed open mouthed kisses against your skin.
“I want you.” You whined.
He pulled off his pants, a wet spot on his boxers from precum.
You pulled down his boxers, wrapping your hand around his thick cock— slowly pumping it.
“Hmm, that feels good honey.”
He kissed you fiercely, full of hunger and need— guiding you back onto the bed.
You laid on your back, your legs spread open— watching as he came between your legs.
“Please, fuck me.”
He chuckled, his necklace dangling in your face.
He guided his cock to your entrance, his tub rubbing against your sensitive clit.
“You ready for me?”
You nodded, bringing your mouth to his.
He pushed inside you, a gasp leaving your mouth and a groan leaving his.
His cock filled you, every inch of him stretching you as you got used to him again.
“That’s it, baby.” He groaned, slowly thrusting in and out of you.
It felt good to feel him inside you again, to be close with him, and to feel love for him.
He was so deep inside you, it felt like he was in your stomach— taking your breath with every thrust.
Robby pushed your leg up slightly, his cock going even deeper.
“Fuck.” You whimpered.
Hearing you moan and watching you take every inch of him just about pushed him over the edge prematurely.
“That feels so good, Robby."
“Good, baby. I want to make you feel so good.” He breathed.
The intense feeling in your stomach began to build, your pussy already clenching around his cock.
“I’m so close, I’m so close.” You moaned.
He kissed you with a chuckle, his thrusts faster and messier.
“Me too—“
“Be a good girl and cum for me, honey.”
You loved hearing him talk to you like that, hearing him coach you through your orgasm.
Your orgasm washed over you like a violent tidal wave, his name spilling from your lips over and over again.
“Yeah, just like that, baby.”
Robby’s orgasm followed yours within seconds, his cock slamming into you one last time— his warm cum coating your walls.
Both of you laid there for a moment, reeling from the high that you rode— also now more confused than ever.
Robby pulled out of you, handing you his shirt.
“Do you want me to go?”
You pulled the shirt over your head, getting off the bed.
“You can stay, but you’ll have to leave in the morning.”
Robby stayed and you slept in his arms like you used to, some of the best sleep that you had gotten in a while. You knew that once the morning came, things would go back to how they were.
That night was a weak moment and it made what you said no less true, Robby needed help and the two of you couldn’t be together until he got it.
Weeks later..
Things between you and Robby had managed to somehow get worse, he hadn’t gotten help like he needed to and he was continuing to spiral.
You’d given up and just completely avoided him, even though it was painful. You really hoped that he would’ve taken your advice, that the time apart would have opened his eyes.
You sat on the couch, eating popcorn and decided to open a bottle of wine— a well needed drink.
This was your favorite wine, you’d often buy two bottles when you went to the store.
You glanced at the tv from the kitchen, watching the red wine pour into the glass.
The whiff of wine made your brows furrow, it smelled off. You brought the glass to your mouth, tasting it to be sure.
It tasted wrong and off like something had been done to it, you leaned over the sink spitting it out.
It wasn’t old and it hadn’t been opened, but it didn’t taste right and you couldn’t figure out why.
You stood at the sink, leaning against it and absentmindedly rinsing out the wine— your mind elsewhere.
That’s when it hit you, it felt like a shove to the chest. You grabbed your phone from the couch and pulled up your period app.
You were probably panicking, being ridiculous— there was no way that you were pregnant.
The app loaded and you were late, very fucking late.
“No, no, no.” You mumbled, rushing up the stairs to your bathroom.
You’d kept spare pregnancy tests in your bathroom and never got around to throwing them out once the two of you split.
The bathroom lights hummed as you stood there near the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror.
It was going to be negative, there’s no way it would be positive.
The timer on your phone went off and you took a deep breath, completely preparing for there to be another explanation.
You slowly turned over both pregnancy tests.
They were positive.
You held your head in defeat, tears falling from your eyes.
synopsis: Jack knows what love feels like, knows he could never feel it again. His lungs beg to differe.
warnings/notes: Hanahaki AU and everything that entails. mentions of Jack's late wife. I'm kind of in love with this. Flangst, my beloved.
wc: 5.9k
Jack Abbot knew a great many things.
He knew how to trach in the field under active fire. He knew how to run an emergency department efficiently and effectively. He knew how to make an omelet and fix a sink and change the oil in his car. He knew what it felt like to lose the greatest thing he’d ever held and he knew what it felt like to love. Or so he believed until a random Tuesday in June.
It was nearing the end of his shift when Jack felt it again. That hitch in his breathing that signaled the arrival of a deep, rattling cough that he’d been dealing with for weeks now. He pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to muffle the sound. Just a lingering cold, he told himself. Or allergies maybe. Nothing some water and cough drops wouldn’t fix.
Except the tightness in his chest had gotten worse. And the cough drops weren’t doing a damn thing. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, it felt like an invisible band was squeezing his lungs. His voice had taken on a rougher edge and he’d start wheezing if he tried to say more than few words at a time.
“You look like shit,” said a familiar voice behind him.
Jack turned to find Robby standing there, coffee in hand, ready to start his shift. “Good morning to you, too. Some of us have been up all night.”
Robby hummed. “And some of us are clearly coming down with something. Seriously, Jack, you don’t look good. Are you okay?”
Jack waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “Fine. Just a little under the weather.”
“Is that why you’re breathing like you just ran a marathon?” Robby took a step closer. “You’re wheezing and I’m not the only one that noticed. I got three texts from night shift.”
“It’s just a cold.” Jack tried to take a deep breath to prove his point but it caught in his throat, triggering another coughing fit. This one was worse than the others and had him gripping the edge of the counter for support.
When the coughing subsided, Robby’s gaze was stern. “That doesn’t sound like a cold to me.”
“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted, though the pain in his chest suggested otherwise. “Probably just moved to my chest is all.”
Robby sat his coffee down and crossed his arms. “That is not nothing. I want labs and a chest x-ray.”
“Christ, Mike. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m not asking, Jack. You’re a doctor. You know better than to ignore stuff like this.” His tone left no room for argument.
Jack recognized the look his friend was giving him. He wasn’t getting out of this. He sighed. “Fine. One x-ray. Then I’m going home to sleep.”
“Deal,” Robby said, already putting in the order for the portable chest x-ray into the system. He glanced at Dana who hadn’t even pretended she wasn’t listening.
“Eight’s open.”
“A room, man? Come on,” Jack complained but headed in that direction.
“Quit complaining,” Robby said as he trailed behind him, signaling the radiology tech with the machine to follow him. “Shirt off, Abbot.”
“Buy me dinner first,” Jack snarked even as he did as told. He laid down and the machine was positioned over the top of him.
“Take a deep breath and hold it,” Marcia the tech instructed.
The first time he attempted to follow instructions, he devolved into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” he apologized once he caught his breath.
“It’s fine. Just do the best you can.” The tech took three shots from different angles.
Robby slid on his glasses and stepped up to the machine while Jack put his t-shirt back on, forgoing the scrub top since his shift was over anyway.
“Let me guess. Nothing but a little inflammation. Can I go home now?”
“Leave us for a minute,” Robby said to Marcia, voice low.
Jack’s head snapped up, his gaze darting from his friend to the screen he was looking at and back again. “What is it?”
Robby turned the screen toward Jack so he could see for himself. Even from across the room, he could see the large white mass shadowing his right lung.
He swallowed hard. “That could be pneumonia. Or an abscess or something.”
“It could be,” Robby agreed but his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “I’ve sent it up to pulmonary.” His phone rang before he could say anything else. He glanced at the screen. “That was fast.”
Jack shifted his weight as he listened to Robby’s one-sided conversation with pulmonary. When he hung up, he turned to look at Jack.
“Dr. Tanaka wants to see you immediately.” He paused and looked at Jack as if the name should mean something to him. It didn’t. After a moment, Robby took a breath. “He’s sent an order to CT. You’re to report there and then head to his office.”
“Right now?” Jack’s voice was little more than a whisper. The words having to be forced past the lump in his throat. This was all happening too fast. One moment he’d been dismissing his persistent cough and the next he was being scheduled for immediate appointments with pulmonary. “It’s probably nothing. Just a weird artefact in the imaging or something,” he said more to himself than Robby.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Robby agreed, but the worry in his eyes said something else entirely. “But you’re going to get checked out thoroughly just to be sure.”
Within half an hour, Jack was laying on the table in a gown as the CT hummed around him. The contrast dye made him feel warm and vaguely nauseous, but it was nothing compared to the cold fear settling in his stomach.
The tech entered the room. “All finished. By the time you get changed and to his office, Dr. Tanaka should have the images.”
Jack cleared his throat. “That’s fast.”
“You’re a VIP patient today, Dr. Abbot.”
There was nothing Jack wanted to be less. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be doing this. He wanted to go home, go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.
He made his way to the pulmonary floor trying to prepare himself for whatever Dr. Tanaka might say. He’d delivered bad news to patients and their families plenty of times, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end since Mari died.
The waiting room was empty when he arrived, the early hour meaning most patients hadn’t arrived for the appointments yet. The receptionist smiled as he approached. “Dr. Abbot? Dr. Tanaka is ready for you. Third door on the right.”
Jack took a deep breath, or tried to, and headed down the hall. Whatever was waiting for him, he would face it like he did everything else. Head on. Even if, for the first time in years, he was truly afraid.
When he entered the room, Jack was surprised to find himself in an office instead of an exam room. Tanaka rose to greet him. “Dr. Abbot,” he held out a hand to shake Jack’s.
“Just Jack,” he said with a nod before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Very well. Jack, then.” Tanaka stayed standing and pressed a couple of buttons on his computer and the large screen behind him lit up with an image of what Jack assumed were his lungs. He pointed at the mass that seemed to branch out from the right lung. “Do you know what you’re looking at here?”
Jack studied the image noting the abnormal density, the way it seemed to branch through his lung tissue like the roots of a plant. The mass was larger than it had appeared in the x-ray, more defined.
Jack swallowed. “A tumor. Probably malignant given the irregularities and the rapid growth.” He’d seen the symptoms enough in his patients to recognize the pattern. The cough, the tight chest, the fatigue. Classic presentation for lung cancer.
Tanaka shook his head. “I had my suspicions from your x-ray but the CT confirms.” He used a finger to indicate several areas on the scan. “Do you see these fine lines extending from the main mass?”
Jack leaned forward. Now that the doctor pointed it out, he could see delicate lines spreading through his lung tissue. “Vascularization?” he guessed.
“Not exactly.” Tanaka took a seat at his desk. “What you’re seeing is consistent with the presentation of Hanahaki disease.”
Jack physically jerked back in his seat. That wasn’t… “That’s impossible. I want a second opinion.”
“You are certainly entitled to one, but I am the leading expert in Hanahaki in the state.” He wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact.
The look Robby had given him when he’d said the name suddenly made so much sense. “I’ve only ever loved my wife, and she’s dead. Has been for years.”
Jack had seen Hanahaki before, of course he had. The condition was rare and still not well understood. Unrequited love manifesting physically with the growth of flowers in the lungs. But it was something that happened to young romantics or the occasional middle-age yearner, not to someone like him. Not to an old, broken ER attending who’d buried his heart with his wife six years ago.
“I’m sorry, but the blood tests confirm.” He clicked on his screen and Jack’s results populated the screen.
Jack shook his head, unable to process what he was hearing. “Run more tests. There has to be a mistake.”
“Dr. Abbot, Jack, we can run additional tests, but given your symptoms and the findings, Hanahaki is our working diagnosis.” He paused, studying Jack’s face. “I suggest you do some soul searching. You’re in love whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue but another coughing fit seized him, doubling him over. His lungs burned as he struggled to draw breath. When it finally subsided, he was surprised to find Tanaka standing in front of him holding a tissue. Only when he took it did he understand why. Delicate pink petals filled his palm.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, staring at the evidence in his hand.
“That’s confirmation enough for me,” Dr. Tanaka said quietly. “The small petals are consistent with early stage Hanahaki. They’ll become larger and more numerous as the disease progresses, until you are expelling full blooms.”
Jack couldn’t tear his gaze away from the petals. Each one was perfect, like they’d been plucked from some unseen garden growing inside him. And he supposed in a way they had. “How long?” he managed to ask.
“Hard to say without knowing how fast it’s progressing. We’ll do another scan in a week and go from there.” Tanaka paused then added, “I assume you are aware of your options.”
Jack nodded once. “Surgery or…death.” He had to force the last word past his lips. He’d engaged in reckless behavior, volunteering for SWAT, standing on the edge of the roof while he thought about how easy it would be to just not have to deal with it all anymore. To not be alone every fucking day of his life. But now that the very real possibility of his death was looming in the shadows he suddenly found he didn’t want it.
“As you are aware, the surgery would remove any feelings for the person in question. You may forget them entirely though that is very rare. There is also always the possibility that the person you love will return your affections. Then no intervention would be needed,” Tanaka said, voice soft. “The matter would resolve on its own. It’s quite remarkable really.”
Jack looked down at the petals again. The idea that his body had somehow conjured flowers from a love he wasn’t even aware of seemed impossible. Yet the evidence was literally in his hand.
“You have a lot to think about,” Tanaka said, standing. “I’ll schedule another scan for next week and we can talk about options.”
“Thank you,” Jack said as he stood as well.
“You should take it easy until then. The coughing may worsen, particularly if you’re stressed or physically exerted. I’d recommend time off work.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jack said, but the thought of sitting alone at home with his thoughts was not one he wanted to contemplate at the moment.
Dr. Tanaka seemed to sense his turmoil. “This is a lot to process. Many patients find it helpful to talk to someone. A therapist or a family member. And I suggest a discussion with the person—”
“There is no person,” Jack cut him off sharply. “My wife has been dead for six years. There’s been no one since.”
The other man didn’t argue, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see you next week. Call if you have any questions or concerns before then.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Jack turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. In the hall, he pressed his back against the wall. He took the deepest breath he had since entering the office. The tightness in his chest reminded him of the flowers blooming where they had no right to be.
Love.
The word echoed in his head. He’d buried that part of himself when Mari died. The idea that his body had somehow betrayed him, had grown flowers for someone else…It was too much. He couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t.
He pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator. One foot in front of the other. That’s how he’d gotten through the worst days after Mari’s death and that’s how he would get through this.
Jack made it back to the ER on autopilot, his mind still reeling. Day shift was in full swing. Jack just stood for a minute, trying to orientate himself, feeling oddly disconnected from the familiar chaos.
“Jack!”
He turned to find Robby hurrying toward him. His face was creased with worry, eyes scanning Jack’s features as if searching for visible changes.
“Well? What did he say?”
Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. How did he possibly explain he was coughing up petals for someone he was supposedly in love with? It was stupid. Ridiculous. And just the sort of thing that would happen to him. Of course it was.
“It’s not possible,” he finally forced out. “It’s not…Mike, I…” His voice cracked, another cough building in his chest.
“Okay, okay,” Robby said, his tone shifting from urgent to soothing. “Let’s sit down, huh? You look like you’re about ready to fall over.”
Before Jack could protest, Robby led him through the department toward the breakroom. He deposited him in a chair at one of the tables, then turned to fill a cup with water. “Here, drink,” he instructed as he sat it in front of Jack.
Jack obeyed mechanically, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat. The simple act centered him somewhat, anchoring him to the present moment.
Robby pulled out a chair and sat down. “Now, what did Tanaka say?”
Jack stared at the cup in his hands. “Hanahaki,” he said finally.
“Shit. I thought it might be when they said Tanaka wanted to see you.” Robby sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “He’s the best, so there’s that at least.”
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, man. I haven’t been in love with anyone since Mari died.”
An expression he couldn’t place flicked across Robby’s face before shifting to disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
Jack frowned. “What’s with the tone? Why are you making it sound like I’m stupid?”
“Because you are,” Robby said without hesitation. When Jack just stared at him, Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” Jack demanded, irritation briefly overriding his confusion.
Your name was the only thing that left Robby’s lips.
Jack blinked and repeated it like a question. Like your face hadn’t just appeared in his brain. Like he didn’t instantly think about your smile, hear your laugh.
“Yes!” Robby threw his hands up in exasperation. “The woman you’ve been staring at with a besotted expression for the past eight months? The one you look for anytime you enter the department? The one whose coffee order you have memorized?”
No, no. That couldn’t be right. “But she’s—”
“Brilliant,” Robby stated. “Funny. Kind. Beautiful. Should I continue to list off everything you said to me the last time we went out? You talked about her all night, man.”
“I mean…I respect her.” The words felt inadequate even as he said them. Images of you flashed through his mind. The way you laughed at your own jokes even if no one else did, how you always remembered small details about people, that furrow that appeared between your brows when you were concentrating.
“She’s dedicated,” he continued. “Compassionate. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she’s never mean about it. And she’s…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he could continue talking about you for the rest of the day.
“She’s what?” Robby prompted, a knowing look on his face.
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t love her. I can’t.”
“Why not? Because you loved Mari? Loving someone else doesn’t erase what you had with her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jack argued, though he couldn’t have explained why if someone pressed.
“It actually is,” Robby replied, not unkindly. “You loved your wife. She died and it broke you. For a long time, I wasn’t certain you’d ever put yourself back together. But you have. And against all odds you found someone who makes you feel something again. Instead of being grateful, instead of grasping it with both hands, you’re literally making yourself sick denying it.”
“It’s not…I haven’t—”
“You have,” Robby interrupted. “Everyone knows you’re in love with her except you and her, apparently.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Just think about it, okay? Really think about it.”
As if on cue, another coughing fit seized Jack, this one stronger than the last. He doubled over, hand braced against the table as his chest contracted painfully. When it finally subsided, he found his palm filled with more petals, the edges tinged with blood.
“Holy shit.” Robby stared at the evidence in front of him.
Jack closed his hand around the petals, as if hiding them from view would make them cease to exist. “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.” He pushed himself to his feet. The room titled slightly, his vision blurring at the edges.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” Robby said standing as well, typing on his phone. “Let me have someone run you home.”
“I’m fine,” Jack insisted though the wheeze in his voice undermined his claim. “I just need some sleep. I need to rest.” He needed to get you out of his brain.
“You need to figure this out, Jack. Finding out you have Hanahaki would throw anyone for a loop, especially when you didn’t even realize you were in love. But this isn’t something you can ignore. It won’t just go away, it will only get worse.
Robby was right, Jack knew he was. He’d been ignoring what was happening for weeks, dismissing symptoms, making excuses. And now he was paying the price.
“I know. I’ll think about what you said. I promise.”
“Good. That’s a start. Now get your things together. Your ride should be here in a minute.”
Now, when Robby said ride, Jack assumed he meant an intern. An uber perhaps. What he did not expect to see when he stepped through the doors was you. You’d pulled your car to the side where it wouldn’t impede any ambulances and you leaned against it. It took him longer than he’d admit to realize you were waiting for him.
Jack spun on his heel to glare at his former best friend. “What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.
Robby gave him a look of feigned innocence. “Got you a ride.”
“You asked her?”
At that he grinned. “Actually, I sent a message to the group chat. She volunteered.”
“Oh.” He looked over to find you in the same position, your gaze moving between the two attendings. He lifted a hand in greeting and to let you know he’d be right there.
You nodded, waved at Robby and got behind the wheel.
“What do I do?” Jack asked, suddenly at a loss.
Robby rested a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, brother. Just let her take you home. Think about how you really feel about her. That’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Jack agreed with a nod of his head. “I’ll see you later.”
“Not tonight you won’t,” Robby corrected. “You’re off until Friday at the earliest. Doctor’s orders.”
Jack didn’t bother to argue. Knew there would be no point. And honestly, he could use a few days to get his head straight. He held up a hand in goodbye as he made his way to your car, his mind churning. What if Robby was right? What if he’d fallen in love without realizing it, what then? You had never given any indication you felt the same. The idea of confessing feelings that might not be returned…
Another cough built in his chest as if his body was responding to the thought. He swallowed hard, forcing it down. One problem at a time. First, he needed to get home. Then he needed to figure out if Robby was right.
As if sensing Jack was lost his head, you didn’t attempt to make conversation after your initial greeting once he got in the car. When you arrived at his house, he finally turned to look at you. “Thanks for the ride. I would have been fine driving but Robby insisted.”
“I didn’t mind, Jack. However, I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me just yet.”
His brows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“Bossman said, and I quote, ‘get his ass inside and into bed with a glass of water and trashcan nearby.’ So that’s what I’m going to do. Let’s go.” You climbed out of the car and waited for him to exit before locking the doors.
“I assure you that his is not necessary,” Jack argued. More than that, it could be catastrophic. Having you in his house, where he’d now be able to picture you clearly instead of relying solely on his imagination? That sounded like a horrible idea. Not that he’d ever pictured you in his house. Sitting across from him at the table, nestled into his side as you watched TV. That would be absurd.
You took his bag from his loose hold and ignored his protests as you carried it up to the door. Jack stared at you hopeless for another moment before sighing and following after you. “Keys are in the front pocket.”
You pulled them out and handed them over. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for you to follow after. He gestured at the hooks just inside the door. “You can hang the bag there.”
You did and kicked off your shoes, nudging them to line up against the wall. “Robby didn’t exactly say what was wrong with you.” You paused, but Jack didn’t offer any clarification. No, that would be a monumentally stupid thing to do. You cleared your throat. “Are you hungry? I could make you something.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m fine.” The endearment slipped out without thought. He suddenly wondered when the first time was he had called you that. And when had that become the norm instead of your name? Christ. He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”
You nodded. “Sure. Let me get you that water at least.”
Jack just nodded and headed down the hall toward his bedroom to fish out something to change into after his shower. You stepped into the doorway just as he finished taking off his leg. He froze and swallowed. “Sorry. Forgot you’d be coming back here.”
You smiled and Jack had to glance away. “It’s your home, Jack, and I’ve seen you without the leg before. It’s not like you were nude. Here.” You sat the glass on the nightstand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. I’ve got it. Thank you.” You had seen him without the leg precisely once when it started rubbing wrong on a shift and you’d made him sit down and get an exam. You’d also bullied him into supervising from a wheelchair for the rest of the night when you saw his red, raw flesh by threatening to call Robby and tattle on him.
Your gaze ran over him, assessing. He could feel it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes found yours again but he said nothing.
“You just seem off.” Worry shone in your eyes and he forced himself to look away once more.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
After a moment, you stepped toward the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.” When he only nodded, you added, “Promise?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat when he heard the gravel in his voice. “Promise.”
“Okay. Bye, Jack.” And with that, you left without waiting for a response.
Tension immediately flowed from Jack’s entire body. Jesus, Robby couldn’t have found literally anyone else to bring him home? He pushed thoughts of you from his head as he finished stripping. Using his crutches, he moved into the shower, ready to rinse the night off so he could get some sleep.
Not thinking of you lasted approximately two and a half minutes after he turned the water on. He’d turned the temp up on the water hoping it would help clear his lungs. His chest ached with each breath, a constant reminder of the flowers blooming in his lungs.
Flowers.
For you.
It was ridiculous. Yes, he enjoyed working with you. You were competent, smart, quick to smile and to make others laugh. You had a way with patients that made even the most difficult cases manageable. And so what if he’d noticed the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, or that you tapped your fingers when you were thinking?
But that didn’t mean he was in love with you. Love was what he’d had with Mari. All consuming, life-altering, the kind that left you devastated and broken when it was no longer yours. What he felt for you was…appreciation. Admiration, perhaps. Friendship. That was it. He loved you like a very dear friend.
Except friends didn’t keep mental lists of your favorite foods, or notice when you changed your shampoo, or come in on their nights off because you were working. Friends didn’t feel their mood lift the moment you walked into a room or find themselves replaying conversations long after they’d ended.
Jack groaned, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some teenager with a crush. He’d been married, for fuck’s sake. He knew what love felt like.
Or he had once. Before Mari died, leaving him hollowed out and certain he would never feel that way again. He’d adjusted to his solitude. To the bed being too big and the house too quiet.
But lately…
He sucked in a shaky breath as he finally admitted to himself that he’d been pursuing you without even realizing it. No wonder Robby had looked at him like he was an idiot. He was.
“I’m fond of her,” he said aloud, testing the words. “That’s all it is. A fondness.” It couldn’t be love, because if it was that meant—
His chest contracted sharply, another cough building. This one came on faster than the others, stealing his breath before he could prepare. He curled forward, one hand pressed to his sternum as his lungs spasmed. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, each breath harder than the last, until finally, blessedly, it subsided.
When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see dozens of petals swirling toward the drain. Proof, if he’d needed it that Tanaka was right. That Robby was right.
He was in love with you. For far longer than he cared to admit.
Tears mixed with the water running down his cheeks as his shoulders shook in a silent sob. He’d fallen in love with you and hadn’t even realized because it was so subtle, so quiet, compared to what he’d had with his wife. He’d lost out on so much time with you because he was too afraid to examine his feelings. To admit to himself what everyone else had known all along.
But what difference did it make really? Because even if he loved you, what then? You’d never given any indication you felt the same. No lingering looks or soft touches. Nothing to suggest you saw him as anything more than a colleague.
And why would you? He was damaged goods. A widower with a missing leg and more baggage than most people would want to deal with. You were vibrant, fully engaged with life in a way he had long forgotten. You deserved someone whole, someone who could love you without reservation or complication. Someone who didn’t still wake reaching for a wife that would never be there again.
Jack closed his eyes and took another shaky breath as he turned off the water. As he dried off and headed for bed, he considered his options. He’d meet with Tanaka and schedule the surgery. But he should talk to you first. He knew he should. But he was so fucking scared.
He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. You’d told him to call if he needed anything, but what if he only needed you? He could hear your voice, ask you to come back. He could tell you everything and hope maybe you felt the same.
He moved to the call button, then stopped. He needed to sleep first. Needed to be fully about himself before he decided how to approach this. It took hours of tossing and turning before he finally found rest, but even that was fitful.
He glanced at the clock when he woke to find it nearing seven. At least he’d managed a few hours. You were working, so his grand confession would have to wait. Maybe he could meet you after shift and take you to breakfast.
He was so lost in his head when he opened the bedroom door that he almost disregarded the rich aroma filling the air and the soft sounds from his kitchen. He frowned and moved into the other room, calling a soft “Hello?” as he went.
As he stepped into the doorway, you glanced at him over your shoulder and he sucked in a breath. You were here. In his home. Making dinner.
“You stayed?” he asked, voice rougher than intended.
You shrugged and turned back to the stove. “You didn’t look okay. I wanted to be close, crashed on the couch. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
He swallowed down the words that rose in his throat. No. Never. Stay the night. Stay forever. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Bossman gave me the night off. Told me to take care of you if I was that worried. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Thought I’d make you some soup.” You didn’t look at him, but he could hear the concern in your tone, the worry that he would be upset with you for taking care of him.
He just watched you move in his space like you belonged there.
Finally, you glanced at him again and gave him a small smile when you found him watching. “Where’s your bowls?”
“I’ll get them,” he said, suddenly desperate to do something.
It was a simple task but before he could even open the cabinet, he was seized by another violent coughing fit. He bent over the sink, bracing against the edge for support. His chest burned and his vision blurred at the edge. He vaguely registered you saying his name and a hand landing on his back, warm even through the fabric of his shirt.
When the fit finally subsided, he was horrified to see the petals that littered the sink.
You went completely still beside him. “Jack, are those…”
“It’s not…” he started then trailed off. There was no explanation he could give you beside the truth.
“Oh,” you said softly, your fingers curling in as you removed your touch from his back. You took a step away. “Who is it?” You sounded resigned, maybe even a little hurt.
The question hung between you. Jack remained braced against the sink, unable to look at you. “When my wife died, I thought I would never love anyone again. That it would be impossible. So, when it happened, I didn’t even realize it. Or I suppose it’s more like I ignored it.” He risked a glance at your reflection in the window above the sink. “I guess my body didn’t like that. It’s making me face it.”
“That wasn’t my question, Jack.” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it.
He turned to face you then, his hip leaning against the counter to take his weight. “Don’t you know, sweetheart? According to Robby, it’s obvious to everyone in the department that I’m crazy about you.”
Jack watched your face for your reaction. Anything. But your expression remained carefully blank aside from a slight widening of your eyes.
“Me?” you finally said, the word barely audible.
“Yeah.” Jack pushed off from the counter, using his crutches to move over to one of the chairs and dropping into it. He kept his gaze on anything but you. “But I don’t expect anything. You don’t owe me anything. I have options. I’ll be fine. I see the doctor again next week and I can get the surgery scheduled.”
“Jack Abbot, if you have that surgery, I will never forgive you.” Your sharp tone had his head immediately snapping over to follow you as you stepped toward him.
“What? Why?”
“Because it is completely unnecessary, you idiot. I have been in love with you for ages.”
Time seemed to stop. Jack stared at you, certain he’d misheard. “What?”
You came to a stop in front of him. “I’ve loved you for months, probably longer. I just didn’t think that you would ever…that you could ever…”
The rest of your sentence was lost as Jack pulled you forward into his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your lips as your eyes searched his. He leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
His lips found yours hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty as you responded. He laughed against your mouth as you turned and sat sideways in his lap. When he finally pulled back completely, the first thing he noticed was your wide smile and the joy in your eyes.
The second was, that for the first time in weeks—in six years really—he could finally, simply, breathe.
synopsis: Jack knows what love feels like, knows he could never feel it again. His lungs beg to differe.
warnings/notes: Hanahaki AU and everything that entails. mentions of Jack's late wife. I'm kind of in love with this. Flangst, my beloved.
wc: 5.9k
Jack Abbot knew a great many things.
He knew how to trach in the field under active fire. He knew how to run an emergency department efficiently and effectively. He knew how to make an omelet and fix a sink and change the oil in his car. He knew what it felt like to lose the greatest thing he’d ever held and he knew what it felt like to love. Or so he believed until a random Tuesday in June.
It was nearing the end of his shift when Jack felt it again. That hitch in his breathing that signaled the arrival of a deep, rattling cough that he’d been dealing with for weeks now. He pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to muffle the sound. Just a lingering cold, he told himself. Or allergies maybe. Nothing some water and cough drops wouldn’t fix.
Except the tightness in his chest had gotten worse. And the cough drops weren’t doing a damn thing. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, it felt like an invisible band was squeezing his lungs. His voice had taken on a rougher edge and he’d start wheezing if he tried to say more than few words at a time.
“You look like shit,” said a familiar voice behind him.
Jack turned to find Robby standing there, coffee in hand, ready to start his shift. “Good morning to you, too. Some of us have been up all night.”
Robby hummed. “And some of us are clearly coming down with something. Seriously, Jack, you don’t look good. Are you okay?”
Jack waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “Fine. Just a little under the weather.”
“Is that why you’re breathing like you just ran a marathon?” Robby took a step closer. “You’re wheezing and I’m not the only one that noticed. I got three texts from night shift.”
“It’s just a cold.” Jack tried to take a deep breath to prove his point but it caught in his throat, triggering another coughing fit. This one was worse than the others and had him gripping the edge of the counter for support.
When the coughing subsided, Robby’s gaze was stern. “That doesn’t sound like a cold to me.”
“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted, though the pain in his chest suggested otherwise. “Probably just moved to my chest is all.”
Robby sat his coffee down and crossed his arms. “That is not nothing. I want labs and a chest x-ray.”
“Christ, Mike. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m not asking, Jack. You’re a doctor. You know better than to ignore stuff like this.” His tone left no room for argument.
Jack recognized the look his friend was giving him. He wasn’t getting out of this. He sighed. “Fine. One x-ray. Then I’m going home to sleep.”
“Deal,” Robby said, already putting in the order for the portable chest x-ray into the system. He glanced at Dana who hadn’t even pretended she wasn’t listening.
“Eight’s open.”
“A room, man? Come on,” Jack complained but headed in that direction.
“Quit complaining,” Robby said as he trailed behind him, signaling the radiology tech with the machine to follow him. “Shirt off, Abbot.”
“Buy me dinner first,” Jack snarked even as he did as told. He laid down and the machine was positioned over the top of him.
“Take a deep breath and hold it,” Marcia the tech instructed.
The first time he attempted to follow instructions, he devolved into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” he apologized once he caught his breath.
“It’s fine. Just do the best you can.” The tech took three shots from different angles.
Robby slid on his glasses and stepped up to the machine while Jack put his t-shirt back on, forgoing the scrub top since his shift was over anyway.
“Let me guess. Nothing but a little inflammation. Can I go home now?”
“Leave us for a minute,” Robby said to Marcia, voice low.
Jack’s head snapped up, his gaze darting from his friend to the screen he was looking at and back again. “What is it?”
Robby turned the screen toward Jack so he could see for himself. Even from across the room, he could see the large white mass shadowing his right lung.
He swallowed hard. “That could be pneumonia. Or an abscess or something.”
“It could be,” Robby agreed but his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “I’ve sent it up to pulmonary.” His phone rang before he could say anything else. He glanced at the screen. “That was fast.”
Jack shifted his weight as he listened to Robby’s one-sided conversation with pulmonary. When he hung up, he turned to look at Jack.
“Dr. Tanaka wants to see you immediately.” He paused and looked at Jack as if the name should mean something to him. It didn’t. After a moment, Robby took a breath. “He’s sent an order to CT. You’re to report there and then head to his office.”
“Right now?” Jack’s voice was little more than a whisper. The words having to be forced past the lump in his throat. This was all happening too fast. One moment he’d been dismissing his persistent cough and the next he was being scheduled for immediate appointments with pulmonary. “It’s probably nothing. Just a weird artefact in the imaging or something,” he said more to himself than Robby.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Robby agreed, but the worry in his eyes said something else entirely. “But you’re going to get checked out thoroughly just to be sure.”
Within half an hour, Jack was laying on the table in a gown as the CT hummed around him. The contrast dye made him feel warm and vaguely nauseous, but it was nothing compared to the cold fear settling in his stomach.
The tech entered the room. “All finished. By the time you get changed and to his office, Dr. Tanaka should have the images.”
Jack cleared his throat. “That’s fast.”
“You’re a VIP patient today, Dr. Abbot.”
There was nothing Jack wanted to be less. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be doing this. He wanted to go home, go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.
He made his way to the pulmonary floor trying to prepare himself for whatever Dr. Tanaka might say. He’d delivered bad news to patients and their families plenty of times, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end since Mari died.
The waiting room was empty when he arrived, the early hour meaning most patients hadn’t arrived for the appointments yet. The receptionist smiled as he approached. “Dr. Abbot? Dr. Tanaka is ready for you. Third door on the right.”
Jack took a deep breath, or tried to, and headed down the hall. Whatever was waiting for him, he would face it like he did everything else. Head on. Even if, for the first time in years, he was truly afraid.
When he entered the room, Jack was surprised to find himself in an office instead of an exam room. Tanaka rose to greet him. “Dr. Abbot,” he held out a hand to shake Jack’s.
“Just Jack,” he said with a nod before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Very well. Jack, then.” Tanaka stayed standing and pressed a couple of buttons on his computer and the large screen behind him lit up with an image of what Jack assumed were his lungs. He pointed at the mass that seemed to branch out from the right lung. “Do you know what you’re looking at here?”
Jack studied the image noting the abnormal density, the way it seemed to branch through his lung tissue like the roots of a plant. The mass was larger than it had appeared in the x-ray, more defined.
Jack swallowed. “A tumor. Probably malignant given the irregularities and the rapid growth.” He’d seen the symptoms enough in his patients to recognize the pattern. The cough, the tight chest, the fatigue. Classic presentation for lung cancer.
Tanaka shook his head. “I had my suspicions from your x-ray but the CT confirms.” He used a finger to indicate several areas on the scan. “Do you see these fine lines extending from the main mass?”
Jack leaned forward. Now that the doctor pointed it out, he could see delicate lines spreading through his lung tissue. “Vascularization?” he guessed.
“Not exactly.” Tanaka took a seat at his desk. “What you’re seeing is consistent with the presentation of Hanahaki disease.”
Jack physically jerked back in his seat. That wasn’t… “That’s impossible. I want a second opinion.”
“You are certainly entitled to one, but I am the leading expert in Hanahaki in the state.” He wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact.
The look Robby had given him when he’d said the name suddenly made so much sense. “I’ve only ever loved my wife, and she’s dead. Has been for years.”
Jack had seen Hanahaki before, of course he had. The condition was rare and still not well understood. Unrequited love manifesting physically with the growth of flowers in the lungs. But it was something that happened to young romantics or the occasional middle-age yearner, not to someone like him. Not to an old, broken ER attending who’d buried his heart with his wife six years ago.
“I’m sorry, but the blood tests confirm.” He clicked on his screen and Jack’s results populated the screen.
Jack shook his head, unable to process what he was hearing. “Run more tests. There has to be a mistake.”
“Dr. Abbot, Jack, we can run additional tests, but given your symptoms and the findings, Hanahaki is our working diagnosis.” He paused, studying Jack’s face. “I suggest you do some soul searching. You’re in love whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue but another coughing fit seized him, doubling him over. His lungs burned as he struggled to draw breath. When it finally subsided, he was surprised to find Tanaka standing in front of him holding a tissue. Only when he took it did he understand why. Delicate pink petals filled his palm.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, staring at the evidence in his hand.
“That’s confirmation enough for me,” Dr. Tanaka said quietly. “The small petals are consistent with early stage Hanahaki. They’ll become larger and more numerous as the disease progresses, until you are expelling full blooms.”
Jack couldn’t tear his gaze away from the petals. Each one was perfect, like they’d been plucked from some unseen garden growing inside him. And he supposed in a way they had. “How long?” he managed to ask.
“Hard to say without knowing how fast it’s progressing. We’ll do another scan in a week and go from there.” Tanaka paused then added, “I assume you are aware of your options.”
Jack nodded once. “Surgery or…death.” He had to force the last word past his lips. He’d engaged in reckless behavior, volunteering for SWAT, standing on the edge of the roof while he thought about how easy it would be to just not have to deal with it all anymore. To not be alone every fucking day of his life. But now that the very real possibility of his death was looming in the shadows he suddenly found he didn’t want it.
“As you are aware, the surgery would remove any feelings for the person in question. You may forget them entirely though that is very rare. There is also always the possibility that the person you love will return your affections. Then no intervention would be needed,” Tanaka said, voice soft. “The matter would resolve on its own. It’s quite remarkable really.”
Jack looked down at the petals again. The idea that his body had somehow conjured flowers from a love he wasn’t even aware of seemed impossible. Yet the evidence was literally in his hand.
“You have a lot to think about,” Tanaka said, standing. “I’ll schedule another scan for next week and we can talk about options.”
“Thank you,” Jack said as he stood as well.
“You should take it easy until then. The coughing may worsen, particularly if you’re stressed or physically exerted. I’d recommend time off work.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jack said, but the thought of sitting alone at home with his thoughts was not one he wanted to contemplate at the moment.
Dr. Tanaka seemed to sense his turmoil. “This is a lot to process. Many patients find it helpful to talk to someone. A therapist or a family member. And I suggest a discussion with the person—”
“There is no person,” Jack cut him off sharply. “My wife has been dead for six years. There’s been no one since.”
The other man didn’t argue, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see you next week. Call if you have any questions or concerns before then.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Jack turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. In the hall, he pressed his back against the wall. He took the deepest breath he had since entering the office. The tightness in his chest reminded him of the flowers blooming where they had no right to be.
Love.
The word echoed in his head. He’d buried that part of himself when Mari died. The idea that his body had somehow betrayed him, had grown flowers for someone else…It was too much. He couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t.
He pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator. One foot in front of the other. That’s how he’d gotten through the worst days after Mari’s death and that’s how he would get through this.
Jack made it back to the ER on autopilot, his mind still reeling. Day shift was in full swing. Jack just stood for a minute, trying to orientate himself, feeling oddly disconnected from the familiar chaos.
“Jack!”
He turned to find Robby hurrying toward him. His face was creased with worry, eyes scanning Jack’s features as if searching for visible changes.
“Well? What did he say?”
Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. How did he possibly explain he was coughing up petals for someone he was supposedly in love with? It was stupid. Ridiculous. And just the sort of thing that would happen to him. Of course it was.
“It’s not possible,” he finally forced out. “It’s not…Mike, I…” His voice cracked, another cough building in his chest.
“Okay, okay,” Robby said, his tone shifting from urgent to soothing. “Let’s sit down, huh? You look like you’re about ready to fall over.”
Before Jack could protest, Robby led him through the department toward the breakroom. He deposited him in a chair at one of the tables, then turned to fill a cup with water. “Here, drink,” he instructed as he sat it in front of Jack.
Jack obeyed mechanically, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat. The simple act centered him somewhat, anchoring him to the present moment.
Robby pulled out a chair and sat down. “Now, what did Tanaka say?”
Jack stared at the cup in his hands. “Hanahaki,” he said finally.
“Shit. I thought it might be when they said Tanaka wanted to see you.” Robby sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “He’s the best, so there’s that at least.”
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, man. I haven’t been in love with anyone since Mari died.”
An expression he couldn’t place flicked across Robby’s face before shifting to disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
Jack frowned. “What’s with the tone? Why are you making it sound like I’m stupid?”
“Because you are,” Robby said without hesitation. When Jack just stared at him, Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” Jack demanded, irritation briefly overriding his confusion.
Your name was the only thing that left Robby’s lips.
Jack blinked and repeated it like a question. Like your face hadn’t just appeared in his brain. Like he didn’t instantly think about your smile, hear your laugh.
“Yes!” Robby threw his hands up in exasperation. “The woman you’ve been staring at with a besotted expression for the past eight months? The one you look for anytime you enter the department? The one whose coffee order you have memorized?”
No, no. That couldn’t be right. “But she’s—”
“Brilliant,” Robby stated. “Funny. Kind. Beautiful. Should I continue to list off everything you said to me the last time we went out? You talked about her all night, man.”
“I mean…I respect her.” The words felt inadequate even as he said them. Images of you flashed through his mind. The way you laughed at your own jokes even if no one else did, how you always remembered small details about people, that furrow that appeared between your brows when you were concentrating.
“She’s dedicated,” he continued. “Compassionate. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she’s never mean about it. And she’s…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he could continue talking about you for the rest of the day.
“She’s what?” Robby prompted, a knowing look on his face.
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t love her. I can’t.”
“Why not? Because you loved Mari? Loving someone else doesn’t erase what you had with her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jack argued, though he couldn’t have explained why if someone pressed.
“It actually is,” Robby replied, not unkindly. “You loved your wife. She died and it broke you. For a long time, I wasn’t certain you’d ever put yourself back together. But you have. And against all odds you found someone who makes you feel something again. Instead of being grateful, instead of grasping it with both hands, you’re literally making yourself sick denying it.”
“It’s not…I haven’t—”
“You have,” Robby interrupted. “Everyone knows you’re in love with her except you and her, apparently.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Just think about it, okay? Really think about it.”
As if on cue, another coughing fit seized Jack, this one stronger than the last. He doubled over, hand braced against the table as his chest contracted painfully. When it finally subsided, he found his palm filled with more petals, the edges tinged with blood.
“Holy shit.” Robby stared at the evidence in front of him.
Jack closed his hand around the petals, as if hiding them from view would make them cease to exist. “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.” He pushed himself to his feet. The room titled slightly, his vision blurring at the edges.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” Robby said standing as well, typing on his phone. “Let me have someone run you home.”
“I’m fine,” Jack insisted though the wheeze in his voice undermined his claim. “I just need some sleep. I need to rest.” He needed to get you out of his brain.
“You need to figure this out, Jack. Finding out you have Hanahaki would throw anyone for a loop, especially when you didn’t even realize you were in love. But this isn’t something you can ignore. It won’t just go away, it will only get worse.
Robby was right, Jack knew he was. He’d been ignoring what was happening for weeks, dismissing symptoms, making excuses. And now he was paying the price.
“I know. I’ll think about what you said. I promise.”
“Good. That’s a start. Now get your things together. Your ride should be here in a minute.”
Now, when Robby said ride, Jack assumed he meant an intern. An uber perhaps. What he did not expect to see when he stepped through the doors was you. You’d pulled your car to the side where it wouldn’t impede any ambulances and you leaned against it. It took him longer than he’d admit to realize you were waiting for him.
Jack spun on his heel to glare at his former best friend. “What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.
Robby gave him a look of feigned innocence. “Got you a ride.”
“You asked her?”
At that he grinned. “Actually, I sent a message to the group chat. She volunteered.”
“Oh.” He looked over to find you in the same position, your gaze moving between the two attendings. He lifted a hand in greeting and to let you know he’d be right there.
You nodded, waved at Robby and got behind the wheel.
“What do I do?” Jack asked, suddenly at a loss.
Robby rested a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, brother. Just let her take you home. Think about how you really feel about her. That’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Jack agreed with a nod of his head. “I’ll see you later.”
“Not tonight you won’t,” Robby corrected. “You’re off until Friday at the earliest. Doctor’s orders.”
Jack didn’t bother to argue. Knew there would be no point. And honestly, he could use a few days to get his head straight. He held up a hand in goodbye as he made his way to your car, his mind churning. What if Robby was right? What if he’d fallen in love without realizing it, what then? You had never given any indication you felt the same. The idea of confessing feelings that might not be returned…
Another cough built in his chest as if his body was responding to the thought. He swallowed hard, forcing it down. One problem at a time. First, he needed to get home. Then he needed to figure out if Robby was right.
As if sensing Jack was lost his head, you didn’t attempt to make conversation after your initial greeting once he got in the car. When you arrived at his house, he finally turned to look at you. “Thanks for the ride. I would have been fine driving but Robby insisted.”
“I didn’t mind, Jack. However, I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me just yet.”
His brows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“Bossman said, and I quote, ‘get his ass inside and into bed with a glass of water and trashcan nearby.’ So that’s what I’m going to do. Let’s go.” You climbed out of the car and waited for him to exit before locking the doors.
“I assure you that his is not necessary,” Jack argued. More than that, it could be catastrophic. Having you in his house, where he’d now be able to picture you clearly instead of relying solely on his imagination? That sounded like a horrible idea. Not that he’d ever pictured you in his house. Sitting across from him at the table, nestled into his side as you watched TV. That would be absurd.
You took his bag from his loose hold and ignored his protests as you carried it up to the door. Jack stared at you hopeless for another moment before sighing and following after you. “Keys are in the front pocket.”
You pulled them out and handed them over. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for you to follow after. He gestured at the hooks just inside the door. “You can hang the bag there.”
You did and kicked off your shoes, nudging them to line up against the wall. “Robby didn’t exactly say what was wrong with you.” You paused, but Jack didn’t offer any clarification. No, that would be a monumentally stupid thing to do. You cleared your throat. “Are you hungry? I could make you something.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m fine.” The endearment slipped out without thought. He suddenly wondered when the first time was he had called you that. And when had that become the norm instead of your name? Christ. He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”
You nodded. “Sure. Let me get you that water at least.”
Jack just nodded and headed down the hall toward his bedroom to fish out something to change into after his shower. You stepped into the doorway just as he finished taking off his leg. He froze and swallowed. “Sorry. Forgot you’d be coming back here.”
You smiled and Jack had to glance away. “It’s your home, Jack, and I’ve seen you without the leg before. It’s not like you were nude. Here.” You sat the glass on the nightstand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. I’ve got it. Thank you.” You had seen him without the leg precisely once when it started rubbing wrong on a shift and you’d made him sit down and get an exam. You’d also bullied him into supervising from a wheelchair for the rest of the night when you saw his red, raw flesh by threatening to call Robby and tattle on him.
Your gaze ran over him, assessing. He could feel it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes found yours again but he said nothing.
“You just seem off.” Worry shone in your eyes and he forced himself to look away once more.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
After a moment, you stepped toward the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.” When he only nodded, you added, “Promise?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat when he heard the gravel in his voice. “Promise.”
“Okay. Bye, Jack.” And with that, you left without waiting for a response.
Tension immediately flowed from Jack’s entire body. Jesus, Robby couldn’t have found literally anyone else to bring him home? He pushed thoughts of you from his head as he finished stripping. Using his crutches, he moved into the shower, ready to rinse the night off so he could get some sleep.
Not thinking of you lasted approximately two and a half minutes after he turned the water on. He’d turned the temp up on the water hoping it would help clear his lungs. His chest ached with each breath, a constant reminder of the flowers blooming in his lungs.
Flowers.
For you.
It was ridiculous. Yes, he enjoyed working with you. You were competent, smart, quick to smile and to make others laugh. You had a way with patients that made even the most difficult cases manageable. And so what if he’d noticed the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, or that you tapped your fingers when you were thinking?
But that didn’t mean he was in love with you. Love was what he’d had with Mari. All consuming, life-altering, the kind that left you devastated and broken when it was no longer yours. What he felt for you was…appreciation. Admiration, perhaps. Friendship. That was it. He loved you like a very dear friend.
Except friends didn’t keep mental lists of your favorite foods, or notice when you changed your shampoo, or come in on their nights off because you were working. Friends didn’t feel their mood lift the moment you walked into a room or find themselves replaying conversations long after they’d ended.
Jack groaned, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some teenager with a crush. He’d been married, for fuck’s sake. He knew what love felt like.
Or he had once. Before Mari died, leaving him hollowed out and certain he would never feel that way again. He’d adjusted to his solitude. To the bed being too big and the house too quiet.
But lately…
He sucked in a shaky breath as he finally admitted to himself that he’d been pursuing you without even realizing it. No wonder Robby had looked at him like he was an idiot. He was.
“I’m fond of her,” he said aloud, testing the words. “That’s all it is. A fondness.” It couldn’t be love, because if it was that meant—
His chest contracted sharply, another cough building. This one came on faster than the others, stealing his breath before he could prepare. He curled forward, one hand pressed to his sternum as his lungs spasmed. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, each breath harder than the last, until finally, blessedly, it subsided.
When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see dozens of petals swirling toward the drain. Proof, if he’d needed it that Tanaka was right. That Robby was right.
He was in love with you. For far longer than he cared to admit.
Tears mixed with the water running down his cheeks as his shoulders shook in a silent sob. He’d fallen in love with you and hadn’t even realized because it was so subtle, so quiet, compared to what he’d had with his wife. He’d lost out on so much time with you because he was too afraid to examine his feelings. To admit to himself what everyone else had known all along.
But what difference did it make really? Because even if he loved you, what then? You’d never given any indication you felt the same. No lingering looks or soft touches. Nothing to suggest you saw him as anything more than a colleague.
And why would you? He was damaged goods. A widower with a missing leg and more baggage than most people would want to deal with. You were vibrant, fully engaged with life in a way he had long forgotten. You deserved someone whole, someone who could love you without reservation or complication. Someone who didn’t still wake reaching for a wife that would never be there again.
Jack closed his eyes and took another shaky breath as he turned off the water. As he dried off and headed for bed, he considered his options. He’d meet with Tanaka and schedule the surgery. But he should talk to you first. He knew he should. But he was so fucking scared.
He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. You’d told him to call if he needed anything, but what if he only needed you? He could hear your voice, ask you to come back. He could tell you everything and hope maybe you felt the same.
He moved to the call button, then stopped. He needed to sleep first. Needed to be fully about himself before he decided how to approach this. It took hours of tossing and turning before he finally found rest, but even that was fitful.
He glanced at the clock when he woke to find it nearing seven. At least he’d managed a few hours. You were working, so his grand confession would have to wait. Maybe he could meet you after shift and take you to breakfast.
He was so lost in his head when he opened the bedroom door that he almost disregarded the rich aroma filling the air and the soft sounds from his kitchen. He frowned and moved into the other room, calling a soft “Hello?” as he went.
As he stepped into the doorway, you glanced at him over your shoulder and he sucked in a breath. You were here. In his home. Making dinner.
“You stayed?” he asked, voice rougher than intended.
You shrugged and turned back to the stove. “You didn’t look okay. I wanted to be close, crashed on the couch. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
He swallowed down the words that rose in his throat. No. Never. Stay the night. Stay forever. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Bossman gave me the night off. Told me to take care of you if I was that worried. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Thought I’d make you some soup.” You didn’t look at him, but he could hear the concern in your tone, the worry that he would be upset with you for taking care of him.
He just watched you move in his space like you belonged there.
Finally, you glanced at him again and gave him a small smile when you found him watching. “Where’s your bowls?”
“I’ll get them,” he said, suddenly desperate to do something.
It was a simple task but before he could even open the cabinet, he was seized by another violent coughing fit. He bent over the sink, bracing against the edge for support. His chest burned and his vision blurred at the edge. He vaguely registered you saying his name and a hand landing on his back, warm even through the fabric of his shirt.
When the fit finally subsided, he was horrified to see the petals that littered the sink.
You went completely still beside him. “Jack, are those…”
“It’s not…” he started then trailed off. There was no explanation he could give you beside the truth.
“Oh,” you said softly, your fingers curling in as you removed your touch from his back. You took a step away. “Who is it?” You sounded resigned, maybe even a little hurt.
The question hung between you. Jack remained braced against the sink, unable to look at you. “When my wife died, I thought I would never love anyone again. That it would be impossible. So, when it happened, I didn’t even realize it. Or I suppose it’s more like I ignored it.” He risked a glance at your reflection in the window above the sink. “I guess my body didn’t like that. It’s making me face it.”
“That wasn’t my question, Jack.” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it.
He turned to face you then, his hip leaning against the counter to take his weight. “Don’t you know, sweetheart? According to Robby, it’s obvious to everyone in the department that I’m crazy about you.”
Jack watched your face for your reaction. Anything. But your expression remained carefully blank aside from a slight widening of your eyes.
“Me?” you finally said, the word barely audible.
“Yeah.” Jack pushed off from the counter, using his crutches to move over to one of the chairs and dropping into it. He kept his gaze on anything but you. “But I don’t expect anything. You don’t owe me anything. I have options. I’ll be fine. I see the doctor again next week and I can get the surgery scheduled.”
“Jack Abbot, if you have that surgery, I will never forgive you.” Your sharp tone had his head immediately snapping over to follow you as you stepped toward him.
“What? Why?”
“Because it is completely unnecessary, you idiot. I have been in love with you for ages.”
Time seemed to stop. Jack stared at you, certain he’d misheard. “What?”
You came to a stop in front of him. “I’ve loved you for months, probably longer. I just didn’t think that you would ever…that you could ever…”
The rest of your sentence was lost as Jack pulled you forward into his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your lips as your eyes searched his. He leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
His lips found yours hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty as you responded. He laughed against your mouth as you turned and sat sideways in his lap. When he finally pulled back completely, the first thing he noticed was your wide smile and the joy in your eyes.
The second was, that for the first time in weeks—in six years really—he could finally, simply, breathe.
synopsis: Jack knows what love feels like, knows he could never feel it again. His lungs beg to differ.
warnings/notes: Hanahaki AU and everything that entails. mentions of Jack's late wife. I'm kind of in love with this. Flangst, my beloved.
wc: 5.9k
Jack Abbot knew a great many things.
He knew how to trach in the field under active fire. He knew how to run an emergency department efficiently and effectively. He knew how to make an omelet and fix a sink and change the oil in his car. He knew what it felt like to lose the greatest thing he’d ever held and he knew what it felt like to love. Or so he believed until a random Tuesday in June.
It was nearing the end of his shift when Jack felt it again. That hitch in his breathing that signaled the arrival of a deep, rattling cough that he’d been dealing with for weeks now. He pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to muffle the sound. Just a lingering cold, he told himself. Or allergies maybe. Nothing some water and cough drops wouldn’t fix.
Except the tightness in his chest had gotten worse. And the cough drops weren’t doing a damn thing. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, it felt like an invisible band was squeezing his lungs. His voice had taken on a rougher edge and he’d start wheezing if he tried to say more than few words at a time.
“You look like shit,” said a familiar voice behind him.
Jack turned to find Robby standing there, coffee in hand, ready to start his shift. “Good morning to you, too. Some of us have been up all night.”
Robby hummed. “And some of us are clearly coming down with something. Seriously, Jack, you don’t look good. Are you okay?”
Jack waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “Fine. Just a little under the weather.”
“Is that why you’re breathing like you just ran a marathon?” Robby took a step closer. “You’re wheezing and I’m not the only one that noticed. I got three texts from night shift.”
“It’s just a cold.” Jack tried to take a deep breath to prove his point but it caught in his throat, triggering another coughing fit. This one was worse than the others and had him gripping the edge of the counter for support.
When the coughing subsided, Robby’s gaze was stern. “That doesn’t sound like a cold to me.”
“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted, though the pain in his chest suggested otherwise. “Probably just moved to my chest is all.”
Robby sat his coffee down and crossed his arms. “That is not nothing. I want labs and a chest x-ray.”
“Christ, Mike. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“I’m not asking, Jack. You’re a doctor. You know better than to ignore stuff like this.” His tone left no room for argument.
Jack recognized the look his friend was giving him. He wasn’t getting out of this. He sighed. “Fine. One x-ray. Then I’m going home to sleep.”
“Deal,” Robby said, already putting in the order for the portable chest x-ray into the system. He glanced at Dana who hadn’t even pretended she wasn’t listening.
“Eight’s open.”
“A room, man? Come on,” Jack complained but headed in that direction.
“Quit complaining,” Robby said as he trailed behind him, signaling the radiology tech with the machine to follow him. “Shirt off, Abbot.”
“Buy me dinner first,” Jack snarked even as he did as told. He laid down and the machine was positioned over the top of him.
“Take a deep breath and hold it,” Marcia the tech instructed.
The first time he attempted to follow instructions, he devolved into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” he apologized once he caught his breath.
“It’s fine. Just do the best you can.” The tech took three shots from different angles.
Robby slid on his glasses and stepped up to the machine while Jack put his t-shirt back on, forgoing the scrub top since his shift was over anyway.
“Let me guess. Nothing but a little inflammation. Can I go home now?”
“Leave us for a minute,” Robby said to Marcia, voice low.
Jack’s head snapped up, his gaze darting from his friend to the screen he was looking at and back again. “What is it?”
Robby turned the screen toward Jack so he could see for himself. Even from across the room, he could see the large white mass shadowing his right lung.
He swallowed hard. “That could be pneumonia. Or an abscess or something.”
“It could be,” Robby agreed but his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “I’ve sent it up to pulmonary.” His phone rang before he could say anything else. He glanced at the screen. “That was fast.”
Jack shifted his weight as he listened to Robby’s one-sided conversation with pulmonary. When he hung up, he turned to look at Jack.
“Dr. Tanaka wants to see you immediately.” He paused and looked at Jack as if the name should mean something to him. It didn’t. After a moment, Robby took a breath. “He’s sent an order to CT. You’re to report there and then head to his office.”
“Right now?” Jack’s voice was little more than a whisper. The words having to be forced past the lump in his throat. This was all happening too fast. One moment he’d been dismissing his persistent cough and the next he was being scheduled for immediate appointments with pulmonary. “It’s probably nothing. Just a weird artefact in the imaging or something,” he said more to himself than Robby.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Robby agreed, but the worry in his eyes said something else entirely. “But you’re going to get checked out thoroughly just to be sure.”
Within half an hour, Jack was laying on the table in a gown as the CT hummed around him. The contrast dye made him feel warm and vaguely nauseous, but it was nothing compared to the cold fear settling in his stomach.
The tech entered the room. “All finished. By the time you get changed and to his office, Dr. Tanaka should have the images.”
Jack cleared his throat. “That’s fast.”
“You’re a VIP patient today, Dr. Abbot.”
There was nothing Jack wanted to be less. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be doing this. He wanted to go home, go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.
He made his way to the pulmonary floor trying to prepare himself for whatever Dr. Tanaka might say. He’d delivered bad news to patients and their families plenty of times, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end since Mari died.
The waiting room was empty when he arrived, the early hour meaning most patients hadn’t arrived for the appointments yet. The receptionist smiled as he approached. “Dr. Abbot? Dr. Tanaka is ready for you. Third door on the right.”
Jack took a deep breath, or tried to, and headed down the hall. Whatever was waiting for him, he would face it like he did everything else. Head on. Even if, for the first time in years, he was truly afraid.
When he entered the room, Jack was surprised to find himself in an office instead of an exam room. Tanaka rose to greet him. “Dr. Abbot,” he held out a hand to shake Jack’s.
“Just Jack,” he said with a nod before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Very well. Jack, then.” Tanaka stayed standing and pressed a couple of buttons on his computer and the large screen behind him lit up with an image of what Jack assumed were his lungs. He pointed at the mass that seemed to branch out from the right lung. “Do you know what you’re looking at here?”
Jack studied the image noting the abnormal density, the way it seemed to branch through his lung tissue like the roots of a plant. The mass was larger than it had appeared in the x-ray, more defined.
Jack swallowed. “A tumor. Probably malignant given the irregularities and the rapid growth.” He’d seen the symptoms enough in his patients to recognize the pattern. The cough, the tight chest, the fatigue. Classic presentation for lung cancer.
Tanaka shook his head. “I had my suspicions from your x-ray but the CT confirms.” He used a finger to indicate several areas on the scan. “Do you see these fine lines extending from the main mass?”
Jack leaned forward. Now that the doctor pointed it out, he could see delicate lines spreading through his lung tissue. “Vascularization?” he guessed.
“Not exactly.” Tanaka took a seat at his desk. “What you’re seeing is consistent with the presentation of Hanahaki disease.”
Jack physically jerked back in his seat. That wasn’t… “That’s impossible. I want a second opinion.”
“You are certainly entitled to one, but I am the leading expert in Hanahaki in the state.” He wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact.
The look Robby had given him when he’d said the name suddenly made so much sense. “I’ve only ever loved my wife, and she’s dead. Has been for years.”
Jack had seen Hanahaki before, of course he had. The condition was rare and still not well understood. Unrequited love manifesting physically with the growth of flowers in the lungs. But it was something that happened to young romantics or the occasional middle-age yearner, not to someone like him. Not to an old, broken ER attending who’d buried his heart with his wife six years ago.
“I’m sorry, but the blood tests confirm.” He clicked on his screen and Jack’s results populated the screen.
Jack shook his head, unable to process what he was hearing. “Run more tests. There has to be a mistake.”
“Dr. Abbot, Jack, we can run additional tests, but given your symptoms and the findings, Hanahaki is our working diagnosis.” He paused, studying Jack’s face. “I suggest you do some soul searching. You’re in love whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue but another coughing fit seized him, doubling him over. His lungs burned as he struggled to draw breath. When it finally subsided, he was surprised to find Tanaka standing in front of him holding a tissue. Only when he took it did he understand why. Delicate pink petals filled his palm.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, staring at the evidence in his hand.
“That’s confirmation enough for me,” Dr. Tanaka said quietly. “The small petals are consistent with early stage Hanahaki. They’ll become larger and more numerous as the disease progresses, until you are expelling full blooms.”
Jack couldn’t tear his gaze away from the petals. Each one was perfect, like they’d been plucked from some unseen garden growing inside him. And he supposed in a way they had. “How long?” he managed to ask.
“Hard to say without knowing how fast it’s progressing. We’ll do another scan in a week and go from there.” Tanaka paused then added, “I assume you are aware of your options.”
Jack nodded once. “Surgery or…death.” He had to force the last word past his lips. He’d engaged in reckless behavior, volunteering for SWAT, standing on the edge of the roof while he thought about how easy it would be to just not have to deal with it all anymore. To not be alone every fucking day of his life. But now that the very real possibility of his death was looming in the shadows he suddenly found he didn’t want it.
“As you are aware, the surgery would remove any feelings for the person in question. You may forget them entirely though that is very rare. There is also always the possibility that the person you love will return your affections. Then no intervention would be needed,” Tanaka said, voice soft. “The matter would resolve on its own. It’s quite remarkable really.”
Jack looked down at the petals again. The idea that his body had somehow conjured flowers from a love he wasn’t even aware of seemed impossible. Yet the evidence was literally in his hand.
“You have a lot to think about,” Tanaka said, standing. “I’ll schedule another scan for next week and we can talk about options.”
“Thank you,” Jack said as he stood as well.
“You should take it easy until then. The coughing may worsen, particularly if you’re stressed or physically exerted. I’d recommend time off work.”
“I’ll think about it,” Jack said, but the thought of sitting alone at home with his thoughts was not one he wanted to contemplate at the moment.
Dr. Tanaka seemed to sense his turmoil. “This is a lot to process. Many patients find it helpful to talk to someone. A therapist or a family member. And I suggest a discussion with the person—”
“There is no person,” Jack cut him off sharply. “My wife has been dead for six years. There’s been no one since.”
The other man didn’t argue, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see you next week. Call if you have any questions or concerns before then.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Jack turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. In the hall, he pressed his back against the wall. He took the deepest breath he had since entering the office. The tightness in his chest reminded him of the flowers blooming where they had no right to be.
Love.
The word echoed in his head. He’d buried that part of himself when Mari died. The idea that his body had somehow betrayed him, had grown flowers for someone else…It was too much. He couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t.
He pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator. One foot in front of the other. That’s how he’d gotten through the worst days after Mari’s death and that’s how he would get through this.
Jack made it back to the ER on autopilot, his mind still reeling. Day shift was in full swing. Jack just stood for a minute, trying to orientate himself, feeling oddly disconnected from the familiar chaos.
“Jack!”
He turned to find Robby hurrying toward him. His face was creased with worry, eyes scanning Jack’s features as if searching for visible changes.
“Well? What did he say?”
Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. How did he possibly explain he was coughing up petals for someone he was supposedly in love with? It was stupid. Ridiculous. And just the sort of thing that would happen to him. Of course it was.
“It’s not possible,” he finally forced out. “It’s not…Mike, I…” His voice cracked, another cough building in his chest.
“Okay, okay,” Robby said, his tone shifting from urgent to soothing. “Let’s sit down, huh? You look like you’re about ready to fall over.”
Before Jack could protest, Robby led him through the department toward the breakroom. He deposited him in a chair at one of the tables, then turned to fill a cup with water. “Here, drink,” he instructed as he sat it in front of Jack.
Jack obeyed mechanically, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat. The simple act centered him somewhat, anchoring him to the present moment.
Robby pulled out a chair and sat down. “Now, what did Tanaka say?”
Jack stared at the cup in his hands. “Hanahaki,” he said finally.
“Shit. I thought it might be when they said Tanaka wanted to see you.” Robby sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “He’s the best, so there’s that at least.”
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, man. I haven’t been in love with anyone since Mari died.”
An expression he couldn’t place flicked across Robby’s face before shifting to disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
Jack frowned. “What’s with the tone? Why are you making it sound like I’m stupid?”
“Because you are,” Robby said without hesitation. When Jack just stared at him, Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t know?”
“Know what?” Jack demanded, irritation briefly overriding his confusion.
Your name was the only thing that left Robby’s lips.
Jack blinked and repeated it like a question. Like your face hadn’t just appeared in his brain. Like he didn’t instantly think about your smile, hear your laugh.
“Yes!” Robby threw his hands up in exasperation. “The woman you’ve been staring at with a besotted expression for the past eight months? The one you look for anytime you enter the department? The one whose coffee order you have memorized?”
No, no. That couldn’t be right. “But she’s—”
“Brilliant,” Robby stated. “Funny. Kind. Beautiful. Should I continue to list off everything you said to me the last time we went out? You talked about her all night, man.”
“I mean…I respect her.” The words felt inadequate even as he said them. Images of you flashed through his mind. The way you laughed at your own jokes even if no one else did, how you always remembered small details about people, that furrow that appeared between your brows when you were concentrating.
“She’s dedicated,” he continued. “Compassionate. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she’s never mean about it. And she’s…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he could continue talking about you for the rest of the day.
“She’s what?” Robby prompted, a knowing look on his face.
Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t love her. I can’t.”
“Why not? Because you loved Mari? Loving someone else doesn’t erase what you had with her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Jack argued, though he couldn’t have explained why if someone pressed.
“It actually is,” Robby replied, not unkindly. “You loved your wife. She died and it broke you. For a long time, I wasn’t certain you’d ever put yourself back together. But you have. And against all odds you found someone who makes you feel something again. Instead of being grateful, instead of grasping it with both hands, you’re literally making yourself sick denying it.”
“It’s not…I haven’t—”
“You have,” Robby interrupted. “Everyone knows you’re in love with her except you and her, apparently.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Just think about it, okay? Really think about it.”
As if on cue, another coughing fit seized Jack, this one stronger than the last. He doubled over, hand braced against the table as his chest contracted painfully. When it finally subsided, he found his palm filled with more petals, the edges tinged with blood.
“Holy shit.” Robby stared at the evidence in front of him.
Jack closed his hand around the petals, as if hiding them from view would make them cease to exist. “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.” He pushed himself to his feet. The room titled slightly, his vision blurring at the edges.
“You’re in no condition to drive,” Robby said standing as well, typing on his phone. “Let me have someone run you home.”
“I’m fine,” Jack insisted though the wheeze in his voice undermined his claim. “I just need some sleep. I need to rest.” He needed to get you out of his brain.
“You need to figure this out, Jack. Finding out you have Hanahaki would throw anyone for a loop, especially when you didn’t even realize you were in love. But this isn’t something you can ignore. It won’t just go away, it will only get worse.
Robby was right, Jack knew he was. He’d been ignoring what was happening for weeks, dismissing symptoms, making excuses. And now he was paying the price.
“I know. I’ll think about what you said. I promise.”
“Good. That’s a start. Now get your things together. Your ride should be here in a minute.”
Now, when Robby said ride, Jack assumed he meant an intern. An uber perhaps. What he did not expect to see when he stepped through the doors was you. You’d pulled your car to the side where it wouldn’t impede any ambulances and you leaned against it. It took him longer than he’d admit to realize you were waiting for him.
Jack spun on his heel to glare at his former best friend. “What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.
Robby gave him a look of feigned innocence. “Got you a ride.”
“You asked her?”
At that he grinned. “Actually, I sent a message to the group chat. She volunteered.”
“Oh.” He looked over to find you in the same position, your gaze moving between the two attendings. He lifted a hand in greeting and to let you know he’d be right there.
You nodded, waved at Robby and got behind the wheel.
“What do I do?” Jack asked, suddenly at a loss.
Robby rested a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, brother. Just let her take you home. Think about how you really feel about her. That’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Jack agreed with a nod of his head. “I’ll see you later.”
“Not tonight you won’t,” Robby corrected. “You’re off until Friday at the earliest. Doctor’s orders.”
Jack didn’t bother to argue. Knew there would be no point. And honestly, he could use a few days to get his head straight. He held up a hand in goodbye as he made his way to your car, his mind churning. What if Robby was right? What if he’d fallen in love without realizing it, what then? You had never given any indication you felt the same. The idea of confessing feelings that might not be returned…
Another cough built in his chest as if his body was responding to the thought. He swallowed hard, forcing it down. One problem at a time. First, he needed to get home. Then he needed to figure out if Robby was right.
As if sensing Jack was lost his head, you didn’t attempt to make conversation after your initial greeting once he got in the car. When you arrived at his house, he finally turned to look at you. “Thanks for the ride. I would have been fine driving but Robby insisted.”
“I didn’t mind, Jack. However, I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me just yet.”
His brows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“Bossman said, and I quote, ‘get his ass inside and into bed with a glass of water and trashcan nearby.’ So that’s what I’m going to do. Let’s go.” You climbed out of the car and waited for him to exit before locking the doors.
“I assure you that his is not necessary,” Jack argued. More than that, it could be catastrophic. Having you in his house, where he’d now be able to picture you clearly instead of relying solely on his imagination? That sounded like a horrible idea. Not that he’d ever pictured you in his house. Sitting across from him at the table, nestled into his side as you watched TV. That would be absurd.
You took his bag from his loose hold and ignored his protests as you carried it up to the door. Jack stared at you hopeless for another moment before sighing and following after you. “Keys are in the front pocket.”
You pulled them out and handed them over. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for you to follow after. He gestured at the hooks just inside the door. “You can hang the bag there.”
You did and kicked off your shoes, nudging them to line up against the wall. “Robby didn’t exactly say what was wrong with you.” You paused, but Jack didn’t offer any clarification. No, that would be a monumentally stupid thing to do. You cleared your throat. “Are you hungry? I could make you something.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m fine.” The endearment slipped out without thought. He suddenly wondered when the first time was he had called you that. And when had that become the norm instead of your name? Christ. He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”
You nodded. “Sure. Let me get you that water at least.”
Jack just nodded and headed down the hall toward his bedroom to fish out something to change into after his shower. You stepped into the doorway just as he finished taking off his leg. He froze and swallowed. “Sorry. Forgot you’d be coming back here.”
You smiled and Jack had to glance away. “It’s your home, Jack, and I’ve seen you without the leg before. It’s not like you were nude. Here.” You sat the glass on the nightstand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. I’ve got it. Thank you.” You had seen him without the leg precisely once when it started rubbing wrong on a shift and you’d made him sit down and get an exam. You’d also bullied him into supervising from a wheelchair for the rest of the night when you saw his red, raw flesh by threatening to call Robby and tattle on him.
Your gaze ran over him, assessing. He could feel it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His eyes found yours again but he said nothing.
“You just seem off.” Worry shone in your eyes and he forced himself to look away once more.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
After a moment, you stepped toward the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.” When he only nodded, you added, “Promise?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat when he heard the gravel in his voice. “Promise.”
“Okay. Bye, Jack.” And with that, you left without waiting for a response.
Tension immediately flowed from Jack’s entire body. Jesus, Robby couldn’t have found literally anyone else to bring him home? He pushed thoughts of you from his head as he finished stripping. Using his crutches, he moved into the shower, ready to rinse the night off so he could get some sleep.
Not thinking of you lasted approximately two and a half minutes after he turned the water on. He’d turned the temp up on the water hoping it would help clear his lungs. His chest ached with each breath, a constant reminder of the flowers blooming in his lungs.
Flowers.
For you.
It was ridiculous. Yes, he enjoyed working with you. You were competent, smart, quick to smile and to make others laugh. You had a way with patients that made even the most difficult cases manageable. And so what if he’d noticed the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, or that you tapped your fingers when you were thinking?
But that didn’t mean he was in love with you. Love was what he’d had with Mari. All consuming, life-altering, the kind that left you devastated and broken when it was no longer yours. What he felt for you was…appreciation. Admiration, perhaps. Friendship. That was it. He loved you like a very dear friend.
Except friends didn’t keep mental lists of your favorite foods, or notice when you changed your shampoo, or come in on their nights off because you were working. Friends didn’t feel their mood lift the moment you walked into a room or find themselves replaying conversations long after they’d ended.
Jack groaned, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some teenager with a crush. He’d been married, for fuck’s sake. He knew what love felt like.
Or he had once. Before Mari died, leaving him hollowed out and certain he would never feel that way again. He’d adjusted to his solitude. To the bed being too big and the house too quiet.
But lately…
He sucked in a shaky breath as he finally admitted to himself that he’d been pursuing you without even realizing it. No wonder Robby had looked at him like he was an idiot. He was.
“I’m fond of her,” he said aloud, testing the words. “That’s all it is. A fondness.” It couldn’t be love, because if it was that meant—
His chest contracted sharply, another cough building. This one came on faster than the others, stealing his breath before he could prepare. He curled forward, one hand pressed to his sternum as his lungs spasmed. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, each breath harder than the last, until finally, blessedly, it subsided.
When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see dozens of petals swirling toward the drain. Proof, if he’d needed it that Tanaka was right. That Robby was right.
He was in love with you. For far longer than he cared to admit.
Tears mixed with the water running down his cheeks as his shoulders shook in a silent sob. He’d fallen in love with you and hadn’t even realized because it was so subtle, so quiet, compared to what he’d had with his wife. He’d lost out on so much time with you because he was too afraid to examine his feelings. To admit to himself what everyone else had known all along.
But what difference did it make really? Because even if he loved you, what then? You’d never given any indication you felt the same. No lingering looks or soft touches. Nothing to suggest you saw him as anything more than a colleague.
And why would you? He was damaged goods. A widower with a missing leg and more baggage than most people would want to deal with. You were vibrant, fully engaged with life in a way he had long forgotten. You deserved someone whole, someone who could love you without reservation or complication. Someone who didn’t still wake reaching for a wife that would never be there again.
Jack closed his eyes and took another shaky breath as he turned off the water. As he dried off and headed for bed, he considered his options. He’d meet with Tanaka and schedule the surgery. But he should talk to you first. He knew he should. But he was so fucking scared.
He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. You’d told him to call if he needed anything, but what if he only needed you? He could hear your voice, ask you to come back. He could tell you everything and hope maybe you felt the same.
He moved to the call button, then stopped. He needed to sleep first. Needed to be fully about himself before he decided how to approach this. It took hours of tossing and turning before he finally found rest, but even that was fitful.
He glanced at the clock when he woke to find it nearing seven. At least he’d managed a few hours. You were working, so his grand confession would have to wait. Maybe he could meet you after shift and take you to breakfast.
He was so lost in his head when he opened the bedroom door that he almost disregarded the rich aroma filling the air and the soft sounds from his kitchen. He frowned and moved into the other room, calling a soft “Hello?” as he went.
As he stepped into the doorway, you glanced at him over your shoulder and he sucked in a breath. You were here. In his home. Making dinner.
“You stayed?” he asked, voice rougher than intended.
You shrugged and turned back to the stove. “You didn’t look okay. I wanted to be close, crashed on the couch. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
He swallowed down the words that rose in his throat. No. Never. Stay the night. Stay forever. “Don’t you have to work?”
“Bossman gave me the night off. Told me to take care of you if I was that worried. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Thought I’d make you some soup.” You didn’t look at him, but he could hear the concern in your tone, the worry that he would be upset with you for taking care of him.
He just watched you move in his space like you belonged there.
Finally, you glanced at him again and gave him a small smile when you found him watching. “Where’s your bowls?”
“I’ll get them,” he said, suddenly desperate to do something.
It was a simple task but before he could even open the cabinet, he was seized by another violent coughing fit. He bent over the sink, bracing against the edge for support. His chest burned and his vision blurred at the edge. He vaguely registered you saying his name and a hand landing on his back, warm even through the fabric of his shirt.
When the fit finally subsided, he was horrified to see the petals that littered the sink.
You went completely still beside him. “Jack, are those…”
“It’s not…” he started then trailed off. There was no explanation he could give you beside the truth.
“Oh,” you said softly, your fingers curling in as you removed your touch from his back. You took a step away. “Who is it?” You sounded resigned, maybe even a little hurt.
The question hung between you. Jack remained braced against the sink, unable to look at you. “When my wife died, I thought I would never love anyone again. That it would be impossible. So, when it happened, I didn’t even realize it. Or I suppose it’s more like I ignored it.” He risked a glance at your reflection in the window above the sink. “I guess my body didn’t like that. It’s making me face it.”
“That wasn’t my question, Jack.” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it.
He turned to face you then, his hip leaning against the counter to take his weight. “Don’t you know, sweetheart? According to Robby, it’s obvious to everyone in the department that I’m crazy about you.”
Jack watched your face for your reaction. Anything. But your expression remained carefully blank aside from a slight widening of your eyes.
“Me?” you finally said, the word barely audible.
“Yeah.” Jack pushed off from the counter, using his crutches to move over to one of the chairs and dropping into it. He kept his gaze on anything but you. “But I don’t expect anything. You don’t owe me anything. I have options. I’ll be fine. I see the doctor again next week and I can get the surgery scheduled.”
“Jack Abbot, if you have that surgery, I will never forgive you.” Your sharp tone had his head immediately snapping over to follow you as you stepped toward him.
“What? Why?”
“Because it is completely unnecessary, you idiot. I have been in love with you for ages.”
Time seemed to stop. Jack stared at you, certain he’d misheard. “What?”
You came to a stop in front of him. “I’ve loved you for months, probably longer. I just didn’t think that you would ever…that you could ever…”
The rest of your sentence was lost as Jack pulled you forward into his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your lips as your eyes searched his. He leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away.
You didn’t.
His lips found yours hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty as you responded. He laughed against your mouth as you turned and sat sideways in his lap. When he finally pulled back completely, the first thing he noticed was your wide smile and the joy in your eyes.
The second was, that for the first time in weeks—in six years, really—he could finally, simply, breathe.
synopsis: you have a horrible day and Jack just makes it worse.
warnings/notes: written to fulfill a request from @orphanbird95. was not intending to write this yet, but here we are. Flangst, my favorite. My language in this one is worse than usual. Sorry.
wc: 3.1k
It had been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
You could blame the heat you supposed. The fact you were working days for the week when you were used to nights. Or perhaps, it was just the simple fact you seemed to encounter every asshole in the city of Pittsburgh throughout the day.
You hadn’t even made it through chairs before someone grabbed your ass. One ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ later, and he’d been escorted out by security. Every patient you dealt with was short tempered, half of your co-workers as well. You thought some of the snappy words sent your way had been teasing, but you couldn’t be sure. You weren’t used to these people that lived in the daytime. They were weird. By the time noon came around, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Jack and forget about the rest of the world.
You were more than aware that part of the problem came from the fact you’d barely seen your boyfriend all week. You were used to working with him, spending your time outside of the hospital with him. For the last five days you’d only gotten to see him for a few minutes at work during shift change. You were never agreeing to cover days again no matter how much Dana and Robby both begged.
You headed to the hub to check on some lab results Langdon had asked you to keep an eye out for. You’d checked half an hour ago then got pulled into taking care of patients.
“Hey!” someone called out as you walked past a room. You stopped and stepped backward. “Finally,” the man in the bed said when you met his eye. “Get me some water.”
“I’ll have someone get right back to you, sir,” you said. He wasn’t your patient and you didn’t have time to look up if he was NPO or not.
“No, you get it, you fucking bitch!” he practically screamed.
Your brows rose as you just stared at him. “Okay.” You walked off, leaving him shouting behind you.
Dana stood a short distance away looking between you and the room you’d never entered. She stepped into the doorway. “Sir, you need to stop right now or I will have you escorted out of the hospital. Do you understand?”
“You can’t just fucking—”
“Hey,” she snapped, cutting him off. “Shut it. You’re NPO anyway. No water, no food.”
With that she left the room, her eyes searching for you. She knew you’d been having a horrible day and that you were missing Jack on top of it. She found you talking to Emma and smiled softly. The young nurse had taken a liking to you. Emma smiled at whatever you’d said and nodded before hurrying off. Dana headed toward you but before she could reach you, Langdon suddenly appeared, a scowl on his face. “I thought I told you to keep an eye out for the labs on Reynolds. This says they’ve been back for twenty minutes.”
You sighed and turned to face the resident. “I was just going to check. I do have other tasks to see to, Dr. Langdon.”
Frank stepped closer, trying to make himself look taller. “When I tell you to do something, you do it.”
Dana was ready to intervene but realized she didn’t need to. Not with you.
You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “Who do you think you are? I’m a nurse and a damn good one. I am not your lackey or your slave. You want something done? You ask. Nicely. If that’s all, I’ve got shit to do.”
Her gaze trailed you as you walked over to the hub. Jesse walked by and Dana reached out and grasped his wrist to halt his steps. “Langdon’s on the list.”
Jesse’s brows shot up in surprise. “How long?”
Dana shrugged. “Rest of the day at least. We’ll see if he learns his lesson.”
He turned to eye the doctor in question then followed Dana’s gaze to you. “What’d he do?”
“When I tell you to do something, you do it,” she said mimicking Frank.
Jesse blew out a breath. “God, he’s an idiot. I’ll spread the word. You gonna tell Robby?”
She hummed in agreement and nodded. “Abbot, too. Kid will be on triage for a week.”
Knowing things would be taken care of, Dana finally got the chance to make her way to you. She rubbed your shoulder. “How you doing, sweetheart?”
You glanced at her and leaned back in your chair. “This has been the absolute worst day, Dana.”
She smiled. “Yeah. It has. Why don’t you take a break and call Jack?”
You shook your head. “No. He hasn’t been sleeping well with us on opposite shifts.” You shrugged. “He manages just fine when we sleep at our own places so I don’t know what the problem is.”
“Uh huh. And before this week when was the last time you did that?”
The longer it took you to answer, the bigger Dana’s smile got.
“Oh, shut up,” you finally said before heading to check on a patient.
Robby appeared at the hub, grabbing a tablet. “I’m gonna be sorry to see her go back to nights, but I will be thrilled to not have to listen to Jack bitch about it anymore.”
Dana chuckled as she slipped on her glasses to look at something on the computer. “Oh, by the way,” she said casually. “Langdon’s on the list.”
Robby blinked several times. “Who did he piss off?”
She looked pointedly in the direction where you had just disappeared.
“He didn’t.”
Dana nodded.
Robby ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t think he was that stupid.”
Hours passed and with them came more bitchy patients and cranky coworkers. Frank was half losing his mind as none of the nurses would do anything for him that he was fully capable of doing himself. Patient care was never compromised, but if he wanted labs checked on or a sandwich fetched, all the nurses were suddenly otherwise occupied. It made you chuckle every time you saw it. Idiot.
When he’d tried to complain to Robby, he found himself redirected to triage to ‘consider his life choices’. He kept walking through the department to see if there were any cases he could jump on, which turned out to be fortunate for you.
“When am I going to get something else for my pain?” Leonard Smith grumbled from the bed. He was in for abdominal pain and waiting on test results.
You checked his chart then the time. “You’re not due for another dose quite yet. I’ll check with the doctor and see if there’s something else we can give you.”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. You frowned as his blood pressure displayed then you realized the cuff was out of place. You moved over to fix it so you could get an accurate reading. As soon as you’d finished, a hand wrapped around your wrist. His hold wasn’t tight. Not yet.
“Let go of me.”
“Get me some more pain meds. This fucking hurts.”
You tried to pull your hand from his grip but he only tightened it.
“Hul—” was all you managed to get out before he jerked you forward with all of his considerable strength and your side collided with the bed rail, forcing all the air from your lungs with a grunt.
Pain flared through you and before you could suck in a good breath, Frank ran into the room shouting, “Hula hoop in five” over his shoulder.
“Release her. Right now,” he demanded as he grabbed both of the man’s wrists, but the patient only seemed to hold onto you more tightly. People poured into the room as your eyes flooded with tears. You jerked your arm just as Langdon got Smith to let go and your elbow flew back and hit the asshole in the nose. His howl of pain cut through the air but you ignored it.
Hands found your arms and steered you from the room. It took a moment for you to realize Dana and Robby were talking to you as they led you into a different room. You sucked in a breath and willed yourself to focus, to calm down.
“You’re okay,” Robby said as he helped you sit on the edge of the bed. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.”
You followed the breathing pattern he was doing, shaky but better than you had been. Seeing you’d calmed somewhat, Robby looked at Dana. “Call Jack.”
“No,” you said instantly.
Both of them looked at you with lifted brows and wide eyes.
You shook your head. “He’s slept like shit all week, Robby. I’m not bleeding. No head injury. It can wait.”
Robby huffed as he pressed his lips together. “He would want to know about this.”
“And I’ll tell him. Later.”
Robby shook his head and you could tell he wanted to argue but thankfully he didn’t. “What exactly happened?”
You went through the story as quickly and precisely as you could. When you finished he looked first at your already bruising wrist then at your ribs. He pressed gently and you hissed as pain flared. “Get the portable x-ray in here for these ribs. Might as well do the wrist just to be sure,” he instructed.
“That’s not necessary, Robby. My wrist is fine and even if the ribs are broken, it’s minor. The treatment will be the same.”
He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “If they’re broken, you’re going to need more than the three days I’m already making you take.”
“Robby—”
“You can get the scans or I can call Jack. Your choice.”
You said nothing, just gave him a disgruntled expression which you supposed was answer enough. He left after telling Dana to let him know when the x-rays were done. Dana shook her head as she typed on the computer. “You’re as stubborn as that man of yours. You know he’s gonna be pissed you didn’t call.”
“I’ll handle it. I’m just ready for this day to be over.”
“Well, you’re in luck because once your workup is finished you’re going home,” Dana said turning to you.
“No, Dana,” you pleaded. “If Robby’s making me take three days off, I need the money. I’ll work on admin stuff or something. Please.”
She sighed. “Let’s see what the scans say first.”
Jack was in a mood when he arrived three hours early for his shift. He knew it, but there didn’t seem much he could do about it. He hadn’t seen you for more than a few minutes at a time all week and it was driving him insane. On top of that, he was only catching a couple hours of sleep at a time. He’d come in early just to get a chance to spend some time with you, even if you were working.
He didn’t even have the opportunity to find you before he was pulled into a trauma, passing his bag off to a nurse. His gaze kept finding the door as he worked to save a middle schooler that had been hit by a car. He was used to working with you, to the rhythm the two of you had when you worked together. As everything he tried failed, he couldn’t help but think maybe, just maybe, things would have been different if you were there with him.
They spent forty-five minutes working on the boy before they called it. Jack stripped his PPE and tossed it in the bin before walking out of the room. His ear immediately picked up the sound of your quiet laughter as you sat at a computer at the hub, Perlah leaning on the counter in front of you telling you something.
He’d been trying to save the life of a child and you’d been here just…what? Gossiping? Irritation slithered up Jack’s spine and as soon as Perlah stepped away, he strode straight to you. He ignored the way your eyes lit up when you saw him as he took in the granola bar in your hand and the juice box at your elbow. Were you fucking serious?
“Jack—”
He cut you off with a scowl. “I’m glad you have time to sit on your fucking ass and have a snack while patients are fucking dying. We could have used your help in there. I could have used your help in there, but don’t let me fucking interrupt.”
As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to take them back. When he saw the tears in your eyes and the tremble in your bottom lip, he wanted to fall at your feet and beg forgiveness. “Honey—”
“Don’t you honey her, you asshole. Fuck off, Abbot,” Dana snapped, resting a hand on your shoulder. When he hesitated, she pointed down the hallway. “You heard me. Go.”
He did as ordered, shoulders slumped and head bowed. God, he was a fucking idiot.
He waited for an hour before circling back to the hub, hoping he could find you or Dana would at least not bite his head off for looking for you. Robby arrived at the same time, glancing around before looking at Dana and asking where you were. Jack grabbed a tablet and pretended he wasn’t listening. “Did you finally get her to go home?”
At that, Jack’s head snapped up. “Why would she need to go home?”
Robby’s brow furrowed as he frowned. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Well, he didn’t exactly give her the chance, did you, Jack?” Dana said, turning to face him.
Robby looked between the two of them. “What did I miss?”
“Abbot here decided to yell at her for taking a break as soon as he saw her.” Dana’s voice was flat and distinctly unimpressed.
Robby ran a hand down his face. “Of all the days…”
“Okay, I fucked up. I get it. Now can someone please tell me what the hell is going on with my girlfriend?”
So, Dana filled him in on your day, starting with the asshole groping you in chairs, to the bitchy patients, to Frank, Robby adding in his two cents occasionally.
And Jack hated that you’d had such an awful day, more that he’d added to it, but it still didn’t answer his question. “That doesn’t explain why she went home.”
Robby and Dana exchanged a look before Robby sighed. “There was an incident with a patient. He grabbed her, pulled her into the bedrail.” Jack froze. “She sprained her wrist and bruised three, maybe four, ribs on her right side.”
“Why the fuck didn’t someone call me?” he asked, feeling nauseous as he pulled out his phone to text Shen.
Dana stared at him with an arched brow. “Because she begged us not to. Said you needed your sleep.”
Jesus, he was an asshole.
You laid on your side on your couch, stretched out due to your ribs when normally you’d curl into a ball. One of your softest blankets was wrapped around your shoulders as you cried. You wiped at your cheeks and sniffed into your tissue. You’d cry for a while then think you were finished, only to start up all over again. And the sobbing hurt your sore ribs. Which only made you cry more.
You didn’t hear your front door opening though it must have because the next thing you knew, Jack was kneeling on the floor in front of you. “Oh, baby.” His hand rested on your cheek and you jerked backward, biting back a wince.
Your hands hastily wiped at your cheeks as you pushed yourself upright. You cleared your throat but didn’t look at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Shen’s covering for me.” He moved closer, only for you to press yourself into the corner of the couch. He stopped and sighed. “Baby, I am so sorry. I came to work early so I could see you. Instead, I got pulled into a trauma and the whole time I just kept thinking if you were there maybe we could save him. Then we lost him and I heard you laughing with Perlah and…I’m a dick”
“Why are you here, Jack?” You were so done with this day and didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to reassure your boyfriend that you didn’t hate him.
“Because I love you and I’m sorry. I went to find you to apologize and found out you’d gone home. Dana and Robby filled me in on everything that happened today.”
“Are you actually sorry or do you just feel guilty?”
He pushed himself up to sit on the couch beside you, leaving just enough space between you that he wasn’t touching you. “I am so fucking sorry. I was in a foul mood and took it out on you, the absolute last person I should be doing that to. Please forgive me?”
You could see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his tone. And frankly, you just wanted to cuddle with your boyfriend and forget this day ever happened. “How are you going to make it up to me?”
Tension visibly flowed from him as he scooted closer taking your hands in his. He kissed the back of each one before kissing the bruises ringing your wrist. “First, we’re going to get changed into more comfortable clothing and while we do that, I’m going to look at those ribs.”
“They’re fine, Jack. Robby cleared me,” you insisted.
“Yeah, well, Robby’s not me.” He leaned forward to kiss first one cheek, then the other before kissing your forehead and taking a deep breath. He pulled back to look at you again. “I’m going to check your ribs, then we’ll order food and curl up on the couch together while we watch whatever you want. Sound good?”
“That sounds kind of perfect actually.”
“I really am sorry, baby. It kills me that I made you cry.”
You cupped the side of his face with your hand, tracing your thumb across his skin. “It wasn’t just you. It was the whole day. All I wanted was you and then…” You sucked in a breath as a sob threatened. You did not want to cry anymore than you already had.
Jack shushed you and shifted the two of you so he could wrap an arm around you. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I won’t be an asshole anymore.”
You huffed a laugh. “I find that hard to believe.”
“If you weren’t hurt, I would pinch your side for that one. I won’t be an asshole anymore today. How’s that?”
“That I’ll believe.” You nuzzled into his side. “I love you, Jack.”
Hi! Do you still take requests for the Mikaelsons?💖
Absolutely! I would love some requests for any of them individually or poly. Just so you know i don't do well with super detailed requests and they may take me a bit to get to but I will.
