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truly a diva down... a diva down bad

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The Science of Us - Jack Abbot

jack abbot x reader, word count: 3.2k hurt/comfort, miscommunication, breakup/makeup trigger warnings: hospital visit, drink spiking

You were dragging your feet. Actually you were doing more than just that. You were dragging the mood down.

Everything you did felt tragic and as much as you painted on a smile or forced yourself to laugh at your friends jokes you were the buzzkill. The sad girl who couldn't get out of her own head after a breakup.

Your bed had a near permanent indent from where you laid for three days, unmoving except to use the restroom. Your fridge was full of untouched food and your mail was piling up because you couldn't bring yourself to go down to the lobby to collect it. You didn't want to risk running into him or risk running into anyone who knew that you were hooking up with your downstairs neighbor.

And you only felt worse when you remembered that he was doing just fine without you. He was unfazed. He was chugging along just fine. Because that's what Dr. Jack Abbot did.

So of course he was handling the breakup better. He was a professional. He was put together and he could compartmentalize like a champ.

Before him you thought you were the same. You thought you knew how to separate feelings from the tasks at hand. But here you were crying in bed with a mountain of tissues beside you. You were single handedly polluting the city of Pittsburgh with your tissue output and your room was turning into a biohazard.

It was embarrassing how poorly you were taking the breakup. Could you even call it that? You were seeing each other. Feeding each other. Fucking each other. But then you weren't. He stopped answering your calls. He avoided you in the lobby. And most of all he told you it was over when you finally built up the courage to plant yourself outside his apartment.

"I have long hours at work and you should focus on school."

School. He said it like you were some child who had homework waiting for her. You were a PhD candidate studying immunology. You were smart. You were focused. You were capable.

But you were incapable of forgetting the way you felt every time you caught Jack staring at you across the lobby or the way his hand felt on your lower back as he'd guide you into his place. You were intelligent and yet so naive when it came to what you were doing with him.

Your roommates started to grow worried after the first 48 hours. By hour 72 they interfered.

"He's like 50," Alana, your roommate whined. "Do not waste the last few weeks of your 20's sulking over him."

"He's only like 45," your other roommate, Chelsea, said in a hushed manner. "And he was a dilf so let's not shame her for going for an older man."

"Don't you have to have kids to be a dilf?"

You muffled your scream into a pillow before pointing to your doorway and asking, "Can you guys do this somewhere else?"

"Sorry," Chelsea said. "What we meant to say is that you have every right to be sad but he doesn't deserve this much sulking."

"Yeah the sex couldn't have been that good."

"Oh but it was," Chelsea snickered. "Don't you remember the moaning? She sounded like a porn star."

"Enough!"

You were in caffeine withdrawals, your nose and eyes were rubbed raw from the constant crying and sniffles, and your body was sore from lack of movement. The last thing you needed was to relive any prior experiences.

There were only a few days left of your spring break and once it concluded you'd be right back to lab reports and working on your dissertation. Your professors and colleagues wouldn't appreciate you crying into a microscope so you needed to get everything out of your system now.

"The sex was great, he was great, but he called it quits so can you just let me be sad?" you asked, sitting up against your headboard. "I just need some more time to process it."

"It's that bad?" Chelsea asked as she took a seat on the edge of your bed. "It hurts enough that you're not gonna go out tonight?"

It hurt enough that you hadn't eaten since the morning of the breakup. It was a blueberry muffin and you didn't know if that even counted because you ended up emptying your stomach in your bathroom the second you got back to your apartment.

"I know it's stupid, but this hurts more than the breakup with Oscar."

Your ex boyfriend had been with you for five years. You graduated college together, entered your doctoral programs together and you thought you'd have a family with him. And when you sat him down to call off your engagement your stomach felt like it was in your throat, but you picked yourself up by the bootstraps and made it work.

You had a ring on your finger for almost a year and taking it off didn't hurt as much as Jack dismissing you did. Because Jack made you feel like you were some fling that was a distraction rather than the girl he'd pick up from work and cook dinner for on his nights off. In one conversation he had made you feel worthless.

"I don't think Oscar made you feel how Jack made you feel," Alana said as she also climbed onto your bed. "So it's okay, but don't let him ruin you because there will be another guy who makes you feel sexy and smart and all of the things you are." She squeezed at your legs, forcing a laugh out of you.

"I just felt like he got me," you said while brushing away the tears that started to fall. "And after Oscar I thought nobody would get me. I thought I was someone that nobody would ever connect to."

"Okay well Jack did, so that is proof that Oscar was just a dud."

"Or its proof that I found the only person who would put up with me and he just decided he didn't want me anymore."

"He is not the only man in the world who will get you," Alana smiled. "You my love are one in a million. Not him."

***

Downstairs in apartment 1B was a near silent living room. The only sound reverberating through the space was the low hum of an air purifier. Every so often there was also the rumblings of the refrigerator ice maker, but other than that it was quiet.

That was wrong for Jack. He didn't do quiet. He needed exterior noise to tune out all the internal static. It's why he'd sometimes let his police scanner play as he was trying to fall asleep after his shifts.

When he started seeing you he kept it off. He no longer needed it. You were your own type of noise. Your jittery legs vibrated and your near constant smile screamed. Every time you walked into a room you spoke because even in silence your presence was loud.

When you first crossed paths Jack assumed that was a symptom of your youth. You were the cheerful girl from upstairs who was still in school and lived in a two bedroom apartment with three girls. He thought he read you like a book.

That was until you both got locked in the mailroom together one early morning. He was coming back from a tiring shift and you were coming back from pulling an all nighter in the lab.

And with one accidentally nudge of his prosthetic leg into the door stop he sent the both of you into an hour long camp out as you wanted for someone to come let you out.

"Can you call your wife?" you asked after noticing the ring on his hand.

"No, I can't," he said with a light laugh while twisting the band around his finger. "She passed a few years ago, the ring is just force of habit."

"Do you have someone you can call?"

You dropped your bag on the ground, slowly lowering yourself down with it. "I live with aspiring actors who moonlight as waitresses and since it's a weekend they're probably hungover on the couch."

"You're always up early." He noted. "What do you do?"

"PhD candidate in Immunology."

Jack hated it, but he found himself intrigued by you. It was a foreign feeling. He had found some of the travelling nurses attractive and he nearly went out with one of the administrators who passed through the pitt, but he never followed through with it. But you? Being trapped in a small glass box with you somehow didn't even register because he was too enamored.

The same went for you.

The broody guy who you only ever saw in the wee hours of the morning had you wrapped around his fingers as he asked you questions about your dissertation and work.

And when someone finally passed by the mail room neither of you even noticed.

You squinted, studying his face. "You're asking a lot of questions, but not answering any of mine."

"What do you want to know?"

"Which hospital you work at so I can injure myself and have some eye candy while I get patched up."

"Save yourself the injury," he said while reaching for your phone that was sitting in your lap. "We'll grab dinner and you can let me get to know more about how someone decides to study immunology at your age."

Your age.

Maybe that was the real nail in the coffin. You were just at different points in your lives. But you weren't. You were focused on your career. Starting a family felt like it was years away and you thought Jack knew that. You thought he knew you better.

And he thought the same, but when he came to pick you up from the bar one night it all clicked. He didn't know what he was doing with you.

You were lively and full of joy. You moved around every space like the sun. People flocked to you. And you were good at handling that. You were good at talking to strangers.

But when he saw the guys coming up to you, trying to make small talk, he felt like he was keeping you from doing the things that people like you did. You were meant to go out and be lively and get attention of others. You were meant to have your pick of the litter and he simply couldn't imagine being your pick. So he made the choice for you.

So in the quiet of Jack's apartment, there was no real silence because his mind was running a mile a minute. He was replaying that last conversation and how harsh he had been. But nothing was going to change. He was going to grab his bag and head into work because that's what he did best. And nobody would know the difference because he’d never let them.

And you would feel every big emotion that was coursing through your body until you started to worry that your emotions were too much. And everyone would notice the change because when you're someone who brightens every room with your smile it is painstakingly obvious when you're not smiling anymore.

***

That naive part of you that thought that you and Jack could function as a couple was the same naive part of you that thought you would never run into him again. You thought that if you timed your coming and going that you'd avoid any unnecessary interactions. You changed your go to coffee shop, you avoided the mailroom and most importantly you avoided PTMC.

You made a promise to yourself that you would stay clear of Jack Abbot. But Chelsea didn't make that same promise. During one of her late night bartending shifts she collapsed at work and was brought straight into the helpful hands of your ex boyfriend.

"Where is she?" You asked, not even bothering to make eye contact with him as you ran up to the ambulance bay. "Alana said she was brought here so where is she?"

Jack studied you. Your hair was pushed behind your ears and your sweatpants were low on your waist, barely saying up.

"She's inside."

"And?"

"You want me to violate HIPPA for you?" he asked while uncrossing his arms and placing his hands in his pockets.

"I'm her emergency contact," you said with a roll of your eyes. "Go check her file if you don't believe me."

There were plenty of thing he wanted to argue about. Like how thin you had gotten since the last time he saw you or how bloodshot your eyes were, but Chelsea's emergency contact information wasn't one of them.

"EMT’s said she was slurring her words, disoriented, unable to stay awake. We're waiting on lab results but it's looking like someone slipped her something."

You looked past him at the sliding doors. "Can I go see her?"

"Can you promise me that you won't turn your back on any drinks even around the bartenders you know?"

Your shoulder dropped at his comment. You didn’t want to argue. You didn’t have the energy to do that.

"Jack we've had this conversation before."

"And we're having it again."

You tossed your head back. "Out of all the conversations we've had you wanna redo the date rape talk?"

You were in awe of how oblivious he was to your feelings. How couldn't he see how deeply you missed him or how, even in anger, you wanted to feel his arms around you. Because every time you felt overwhelmed or unsteady he was the force that grounded you.

"Listen, it's been a rough few months so if you don't mind I'd like to go check on Chels."

"Is it the lab? Your professor?"

You sighed, "No, Jack," you said, trying to choose your words carefully. "It's been rough because I spend my downtime trying to figure out why the man I love couldn't love me back so save me the lectures about being careful because you have turned me into the most careful and untrusting version of myself."

Your arm brushed against his as you squeezed past him, but he didn't move. He was too busy processing your words. When he broke things off he assumed it was a favor to you—that he would be relinquishing you of the burden of being in a relationship with someone with his baggage. Instead he had given you your own.

Jack handed off Chelsea's care to Dr. Shen the second he snapped himself out of the trance that you put him in. It wasn't a hard ask, but it sent the peanut gallery into action. The night shift was its own beast, but the pitt usually saved the drama and big personalities for the day shift.

There were no butting heads or egos and the drama was only coming from patients. But now Jack had given everyone something to talk about.

They saw the way he looked after his talk with you and they noticed how he kept his eyes on central 6 even though Chelsea was no longer his patient.

And most of all Shen was in charge of her and he was going to get to the bottom of Jack's behavior one way or another.

"So her tox screen came back and it was positive for a pretty high dose of rohypnol which explains why she was reported to be slurring her words and was later found unconscious,” Dr Shen explained to you.

You head was in your hands, your fingers pressing into your scalp. "And what is the treatment for this?"

"Well right now we're just gonna keep giving her fluids and monitor her until she regains consciousness but her blood pressure is good and she's got a clear airway."

You took a beat, trying to translate the information into something digestible and something you could explain to Alana who was already blowing up your phone asking for updates.

"If you have more questions I can always grab my colleague,” he said, motioning out of the room.

You looked over his shoulder out at the nurses station where Jack was staring at the board. "Oh no I think he already got an earful from me."

"You guys know each other?"

You motioned to Chelsea. "We're his upstairs neighbors."

"He's the grumpy downstairs guy complaining that you guys walk too loud, isn't he?" Shen said, a shit eating grin taking over his face. He was only getting breadcrumbs but it would be more than enough to report back to Parker.

"No." You looked down at your hands as you made a late night realization. You had found so many reasons to hate Jack over the last few months but on paper it was impossible. Because other than breaking your heart he was respectable, kind, and caring. "Actually he hasn't ever complained about us."

"I would have lost that bet."

From what you knew about Dr. Shen he lost most of the bets he made, but you kept that to yourself and turned your attention back to Chelsea.

Your eyes didn't leave her—not until you succumbed to your exhaustion and allowed your eyes to fall shut. It didn't take long for Jack to notice your body curled up in a chair, your legs tucked up against your chest and your head propped up by your hand.

You weren't sure how long you were out for for but when you came to there was a blanket covering your body and an iced coffee sitting on the ground beside you.

***

It wasn’t until 10am when Chelsea finally came to and recognized her surroundings and it wasn't until a week later that you got the nerve to knock on Jack's door to address the pitt sized elephant that was occupying your mind.

"Chelsea wanted me to thank you." You rushed out the words, fearing that his door would shut in your face once he saw that it was you interrupting his mid day nap. He was no longer in his scrubs. He had on a thin white teeshirt that had wet spots covering the shoulders from his hair that was still damp and a pair of sweatpants covered his bottom half. “And I wanted to thank you,” you added when he didn’t respond.

"I'm glad she's doing better."

"So am I," you said, taking a step back. "I'll let you get back to it."

"Are you doing better?"

His words halted you. There was no easy way to answer his question. If you ignored him you’d only be adding fuel to the fire and if you answered him honestly you’d be opening up a can of worms.

"Jack, I said enough that day, dont you think?"

He huffed. "But I didn't say enough."

It was too late for kicking the can down the road. It was time to play everything out on the table.

"I called things off because I saw how vibrant your life was when I wasn't around and I didnt want to corrupt you with my night shift nonsense and the gloom and doom of trauma medicine and PTSD,” he said, “and you got so much going for you and I can't be the reason that you dim the spark so I figured it would be for the best if we parted ways."

Nobody had ever described you as having a spark. Oscar said you were hyper and over caffeinated. He said you didn’t know how to turn off the charm and be real. He made you feel like you were a fraud for being who you thought he wanted you to be.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed but I'm pretty sure that vibrancy came from having you in my life," you said, motioning to your current state. Your skin was dull, the bags under your eyes were becoming a permanent fixture and your clothes no longer accentuated your body, they simply just draped over you. "And that is a toxic way to think but I know how I felt when we were together."

"But I saw you when we weren't."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means I saw you when you were out with your friends. You lit up every room, people flocked to you and you just weren't like that when I was with you. It was like I blew out a candle.”

"I was like that when you weren't around because that's how I feel like I have to be. But with you I could drop the fucking act and just exist. I didn't have to be some perfect trophy or the interesting girl with the cool job. I could be whichever side of me I wanted to be and you'd always accept it."

Where Oscar made you feel like a fake and a fraud, Jack made you feel like you were one of a kind. You never had to question if you were being too shy or too excited. You could show up and exist as you were. No questions asked.

"You didn't dim the spark," you said, "if anything you protected it and I'm not asking you to rethink there being an us but I am asking you to at least rethink your hypothesis because it was incredibly flawed and as a scientist it would be unethical for me to not point that out."

He leaned against his doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. "And if my hypothesis was rejected what would be the outcome?"

You swallowed hard, trying your best to force your feelings down so that they didn't overflow in the middle of the apartment hallway.

"Technically speaking you'd have to provide an alternative hypothesis."

Jack nodded, his eyes focused on the ground. It felt like an eternity before he stood straight. "Would you accept a hypothesis where I'm an idiot who ruins things when they get good because I can't imagine a world where things go right for me?"

You closed the gap, stepping forward and bringing your hands to his face, forcing him to look at you.

"Yeah, I would." You nodded. "But I'd tell you that I'm the same way. The only difference is that I keep telling myself that I ruined things in the past because I was meant to be here and I'm not always right but I really do think I was right when I picked you."

[iri-sponsible]

The Pitt is baby's first fandom for so many people. Wdym I should hate Langdon, because he was stealing pills and treating patients high? I was 9 years old watching Dr House pop 3 stolen Vicodin with a half bottle of Whiskey and then treating the Black Plague. Who am I to judge?

[wordssforworldss]

Good in a Crisis - Jack Abbot

Jack Abbot x reader, word count: 3.1k synopsis: You want Jack to be the poster boy from trauma medicine. He refuses to play along—until he doesn't. trigger warnings: references to pitt fest, gun violence, ptsd, panic attacks.

Trauma medicine was a lot of things, but pretty wasn't one of them. There were no perfectly straight cuts or neat edges. It was full of messy solutions and hail Mary's. It was quick. It was fast. It was hard. It was exactly how Jack Abbot liked it.

He didn't necessarily want to see people hurt but some things were inevitable. As long as the human race existed, there were going to be medical emergencies. But some were worse than others and those seemed to be the cases that crossed through PTMC.

Within the span of six months the pitt had handled two mass casualties, both of which had Dr. Jack Abbot at the helm. He was the captain steering the ship. Normally Dr. Robby would also be considered the leader, but he was AWOL. His three month sabbatical was turning into five and the hospital was growing aggravated by the fact that they had nobody to showboat.

Until you ventured down to the pitt one early evening and saw Jack standing at the central nurses station, army fatigues covering his lower half.

The last time you were in the emergency department you were barely conscious, but you remember flashes of memories. There was the bright orange vest covering someone's chest, the bright light flashing in your face, and the screaming—your screaming. But not tonight. Tonight it felt still.

You stood back, silently watching as Dr. Abbot commanded the floor. And when a trauma came through the doors of the ambulance bay you continued to observe him.

Your intention was to get a feel for the hospital in order to better help portray the work being done by the staff. You wanted to find a story or find someone who could convey how important funding was to a level one trauma center like PTMC.

On paper Jack Abbot was an obvious pick. He was an attending for over fifteen years, handled countless mass casualties and he even volunteered with the local SWAT team as a medic. Not to mention he was a veteran. He was a PR wet dream—your PR wet dream.

The only issue was that he wasn't the approachable type. He was detached and closed off. He was also not happy to see a buttoned up girl walking into his ER right after handing a code.

"If you're here to talk about patient satisfaction, that's a day shift problem and you know it," he said, using his clipboard to motion to the doors.

You were rarely at a loss for words. Your job had prepared you to respond in an efficient and respectful manner. But you were more familiar with responding to old buttoned up men in suits, not attractive men with smile lines and salt and pepper hair.

"I'm sorry, I think you have me confused."

He shook his head, not bothering to look back at you. "Nobody wears business casual in the pitt unless they're on the board or are about to complain about our work."

You stepped closer. "I do work for a board but not the one you're talking about," you said, your hands pressed into the sides of your pants. You were trying to maintain your composure but you were intimidated and your hands were shaking from the flashes of memories. "I work for the foundation. I'm trying to help get money to the pitt, not cut funding."

Your words finally drew him from his paperwork. "It's not the usual hours for a foundation worker."

"I'm not a usual foundation worker."

For a second you swore you could see the beginning of a smirk, but it quickly disappeared. "So what can I help you with?"

"I need to get donors to care about the work you're doing and they like putting a face to the name. Dr. Robby is gone, your charge nurse has no filter and your fellow attending has a personal attachment to his coffee cup."

"So you want me?"

Yes. "I want to see you keep doing what you guys do in this hospital and I want it to be easier than it is now."

He shook his head. "I'm not gonna give a bunch of suits some trauma porn so they can feel like saints for donating."

His words were harsh but he was right. Plenty of donors only donated because they liked feeling important. They liked showboating their good deeds for all to see and that made their donations feel like blood money.

But the pitt needed money. They were short on nurses, the street team needed more resources and everyone deserved raises. And as much as you pitied the person who would have to be the poster child for trauma medicine in Pittsburgh, you knew it was your job to get someone to agree.

"Dr. Abbot, if you don't agree a much less friendly version of me will be forced to come back until you do agree."

"Does that version also think that 8pm is an appropriate time for this conversation?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, she'll make it a more obnoxious hour."

"Then I'll see you at 4am."

Jack thought he could challenge you. How persistent could you truly be? He had dealt with Gloria. You couldn't be any worse.

Boy was he wrong. You had nothing but time. Since moving to the city you had become a recluse. You didn't go out to restaurants or go for drinks. You just bounced between work and your apartment. And the pitt.

"Dr. Abbot," you said as you approached him in the ambulance bay. "4am, right?"

He couldn't help but let out a small laugh. You had actually dragged yourself to the emergency room in order to talk with him.

"It's because of the leg, right? That's why you want me to be the showpony."

"I know everything there is to know about you, but your medical history is not my business and while I know about your situation I planned on avoiding the subject matter," you said as you stood beside him.

"You want to get funding for the pitt? Get used to getting your hands dirty and talking about things that make you uncomfortable."

You tried to keep your eyes away from his leg, your curiosity getting the best of you. "Your previous injury doesn't make me uncomfortable."

"Good."

He scanned you, noting your lack of business attire. You were no longer in a fancy blouse and heels. Instead you wore sweats and some beat up sneakers.

"So I'll see you at the next charity luncheon?"

He pointed at a bus that was making its way towards you both. "I have a job."

"Luncheons usually occur during the day shift and last I checked you're the night shift attending."

"You're a piece of work."

"So I've been told."

***

His first luncheon went smoothly. You guided him around the five star restaurant introducing him to donor after donor. Most asked the same questions, while some just wanted to hear about his craziest case or wildest story from his time as a combat medic.

You were glued to his hip, making sure to drag him away from people before he said anything too cutting or sarcastic. At a certain point you started to worry that maybe he was doing it on purpose just to fuck with you.

"Jack, may I speak to you?" you asked, your arm looping through his. "I promise it'll only be a moment."

"Of course," he said, his smile sickly sweet.

When you were far enough away from his previous conversation you gave him a harsh elbow to the side. "You just earned yourself a fast track to another luncheon."

"Oh, because I didn't smile enough? Or because I smiled too much?"

"Because you're talking to these people like they're dumb and maybe they are but their pockets are deep and I won't let you ruin this for yourself or the pitt."

Jack wasn't sure what came over him, but he was looking forward to his next scheduled shake down. He enjoyed watching you challenge him and he wanted to see what idea or angle you would come up with in order to persuade him.

He assumed that you'd tug at his heartstrings by mentioning the amount of unhoused veterans that could benefit from the funding or maybe the amount of jobs that could be created by getting more nurses on both shifts. He just didn't expect you to pull out the big guns so quickly.

You planted yourself on the bench beside him. He was sitting in the park across the street, watching as the sun started to come up from behind the trees.

"So what's it this time?" he asked, holding out a coffee cup. "And before you ask, no, it's not hospital coffee. It's from the cafe."

"Thank you for this," you said, feeling your stomach churn at the smile on his face. He was growing on you which was a problem because it was your job to keep a good relationship with him in order to help the foundation. It wasn't your job to deepen that relationship or sully it with perverted thoughts of how his voice would sound in your ear.

You pushed those thoughts to the furthest corner of your mind and took a sip from your coffee before returning to the subject at hand.

"So it's been a year since Pitt Fest and a local news channel wanted to interview a doctor from here so that the country could see how important this place is to our community and also how important trauma training is."

His response was quick. "Don't talk about that day."

You nearly spit out your coffee. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he doubled down. "Don't talk about Pitt Fest."

"Why not?"

"Because you weren't there and you are not gonna use it against me," he said, his voice raising. "You aren't gonna use your PR manipulation on me by referencing one of the worst days in that ER because while we dealt with carnage you sat in an office."

Your skin was prickling. "The scars running up my side would beg to differ, Dr. Abbot."

It was your first week in Pittsburgh. The festival tickets were a present to yourself for making a move to a new city and starting a new job.

You were set to start as a public relations coordinator for the Pirates that Monday but on Friday everything changed. You went from excited for your new life to fighting for your life. You went through three surgeries. One to repair vascular damage and remove bullet fragments. Another to start a full hip reconstruction and a second to finish it. You were bedridden for long enough that your previous job became a thing of the past. Even if it waited for you, you didn't want it. You couldn't take it. You couldn't work at large events that were flooded with people. It did nothing but bring you back to that day from last September.

Jack was silent, his eyes studying you, looking for anything that might spark his memory of whether or not he treated you.

"Maybe you should do as much research on me as I've done on you." With a deep sigh you placed your coffee cup down between you both.

You stood up and grabbed your bag, not waiting to see what response he would summon. Nothing would break the awkward air that surrounded you.

It was similar to the first day you spent out of the hospital. Your parents stared at you like a time bomb and you had no clue what to say to make them feel better. It was the same as that. The only difference was that you were too angry to want to make Jack feel less uncomfortable with the current situation.

As you headed towards your office your skin began to itch. It started at your arm, right where your shirt ended and as much as you scratched at the skin nothing gave relief. You hastily made a left turn, heading in the direction of your apartment.

The itching started to reach your upper arms and before you knew it your entire chest felt like it was covered in fire ants. You tugged at the silky material of your blouse, trying to force fresh air to reach your skin but air started to feel scarce. It wasn't touching your skin and it didn't feel like it was reaching your lungs. You were standing at the edge of an intersection clutching onto your bag and forcing yourself to swallow the thump in your throat.

More and more people began to pass by you. Some gave concerned glances and others probably assumed you were another crazy person blocking their path. You felt like the latter was accurate. Your feet were frozen in place and your legs were not carrying you any closer to home. You were stuck.

It was the same thing that happened to you when you heard the first gunshot. Your breath caught in your throat and your ears rang. It took you getting bumped into and knocked over for you to finally snap out of your trance. You only got a few paces before pain shot through your side. A bullet shot through your side.

Now you were safe. No bullets were flying past you but your leg felt like it was hanging on by a thread. And your hip. Your completely reconstructed hip felt like it was shattering into new pieces and you would've headed towards the ground if it wasn't for a strong arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you from heading into the busy intersection.

His voice was close to your ear. "I did enough research to know that your office is in the completely opposite way of where you were headed."

When you felt stronger on your feet you turned back to the street. "I was heading home."

You started to make your way back towards the intersection, trying to continue your journey home, but you started limping, trying to keep the weight off your right side.

"Not like this, you aren't."

"Jack, I'm fine," you said, swatting at his hands. "It's like phantom limb pain but stupider."

He blocked you again. "From one bum leg to another, please take a break."

You rolled your eyes. "I don't have a bum leg, I have a perfectly constructed hip that my brain likes to imagine is ruined because I have crippling PTSD."

It didn't take a genius to connect the dots based on the information you had shared. "You were there that day," he stated, his voice the kindes it had ever sounded.

"And shot," you said, "twice."

His eyes softened. Not in a way that made him pity you but in a way that made you almost forget why you were both standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

"I'm sorry for what I said."

"Don't be," you asserted. "You either do that damn interview or you don't. They'll always be another tragedy."

"Don't talk like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like some heartless suit," he said while tossing his head back in frustration. "You know that I care about what happened. I care more than most people, but I don't want to talk. I don't want to think about that day more than I already do. So maybe it's selfish, but I think I've earned the right. And if someone was here begging you to talk about that day I'd remind you that you earned the same right."

You hadn't talked about the shooting with anyone. Your parents got short answers when they asked and your new coworkers had no clue that you were only working for the non-profit because of your personal ties to PTMC. They just thought you were passionate about helping people.

You sucked in a breath. "I only do what I do because people don't listen to victims anymore. At least not the ones who survived."

"And they don't listen to doctors who treat them either."

"Well I have to at least try because I owe you that."

"What do you think you owe me?"

You walked over to the nearby bench and took a seat, trying to relieve the pain that was shooting down your leg. "Maybe not you specifically, but I owe your emergency department my life."

"You aren't in debt to the pitt," he said, joining you. "We save lives because that's what we feel called to do."

It must have been nice to know what you were meant to do and then actually do it. When you moved to the city you thought you were doing what you loved but that changed. Now you spent your days planning charity events and shaking down donors. It was not what you went to school for yet you were waking up every day to do it.

"I thought I knew what I was called to do and now I'm here making enemies out of doctors who have done nothing wrong because I feel like I have to make good on the fact that I didn't bleed out and die."

"I'll do the interview if you go back to what you did before Pitt Fest."

You laughed. What you did before pitt fest. You planned events, organized galas, and worked with entertainment staff to plan themed game nights for a minor league baseball team. It wasn't that far form your current job description.

"I hate to break it to you but I was still doing my PR manipulation as you call it."

"Do it without any ties to the hospital. It’s soul sucking and you got too much joy to do that."

Jack saw the way you lit up in those moments during the luncheon when it was just the two of you. You had something in you that he didn't want to see get lost.

"Then who is gonna fight for the people in the pitt."

He shook his head. “Leave the pestering of donors to some old fucks in suits and enjoy being young.”

“I appreciate you assuming that I’m younger than I am.”

"I assume most things about you because you were right," he admitted, "I didn't do a lot of research on you. I only know your name, your job, and how you like your coffee."

You lifted your hands and motioned around. "Anything you want to know you could ask."

"Why don't you let me ask you some questions over dinner?"

Your eyebrows pulled together. "Are you asking me on a date?"

You watched as he stood up and grabbed his bag, tossing it over his shoulder. “No, that would be unprofessional considering we have an interview to attend and a luncheon next week," he said. "I'll wait till you're no longer my handler."

"I think it's funny that you think you can get rid of me so easily."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[wordssforworldss]

All Tied Up V: Jack Abbot

jack abbot x reader, word count: 2.9k part four

Work was becoming progressively worse. Tensions were high amongst the staff. There was resentment between shifts and the looming idea that maybe Robby didn’t plan on returning.

A career shift had crossed everyone’s minds at one point or another—in those tough shifts that drag your soul down and make your bones feel heavy. Everyone had them. Some had them weekly. But some people could get past them. Others couldn’t.

Jack usually could and when he noticed his star residents falling behind he tried his best to liven them up, to spark something in them.

Samira was on that list of people. But as more time passed Trinity joined that list. She was growing tired of the ER even if she loved it. The ER wasn’t really the issue, though. It was the people and the dynamics. More specifically it was one person.

It didn’t take long to witness the tension between her and Langdon. It was bad on his first day back and it was only growing because for some reason empathy had its limits within the Pitt.

The same faces that found it in their hearts to treat anyone that walked through the doors, addictions included, couldn’t get past the addiction of a coworker.

"He's lucky he's still here," Trinity said to Jack as they stood beside the lockers. She had completed her day shift but anger was seeping off of her and as much as Jack wanted to ignore it, she had a giant arrow above her head. Normally he'd make Robby triage his staff but that clearly wasn't happening. And as much as Baran had done a good job at taking over in the interim she wasn't equipt for heart to hearts.

"We're all lucky we're here," Jack said, his hands in his pockets. "But luck has nothing to do with anything in this situation."

She huffed. "Every shift I get treated like a pariah because I reported the golden boy. It's been like this since last year and I can't report that because then I'm back to square one."

Jack adjusted his stance, shifting his weight off his bad leg. He thought this was going to be a quick check in, not a therapy appointment. Although, those weekly brunches he had with you and the night shifters were starting to feel like weekly group therapy.

"What do you want to report?"

"Nothing." Her hand pushed back at her hair. "Nothing, okay?"

"Cleary there's an issue."

"Fine, the issue is that I'm constantly getting spoken to like I'm not qualified to be doing my job," she said, her mind flashing back to her public berating that happened at the hands of Dr. Langdon.

Jack had previously witnessed how reckless she could be when there was a scalpel to be held. She was itching to cut. That was nothing new. Every year there were a handful of interns and residents who thrived on traumas and who wanted to watch the world burn just so they could have a cool case.

"You get treated like an eager student who needs to slow down before they kill a patient because you're only a second year resident. It's the same for everyone."

"But it isn't."

"Because you are currently the only resident who thinks they know more than their superiors or who feels like they need to prove how much they know," he said, his voice losing most of its previous compassion. There was no room for egos in medicine and in the last few years he had seen far too many know-it-all students. "But I know how much you know and you don't need to prove anything to me or your attending so please think about who you are proving things to because you have proven to be more than capable. You just need to pace yourself."

"I don't see anyone else pacing themself. It's an emergency room. We have to act fast."

"You're more likely to cause an emergency with your lack of self control than you are by slowing down. And your lack of ability to admit that maybe you need to change perspective is frankly concerning."

Teachability was something that wasn't necessarily taught. It was something students either had or they didn't. The only time it could change was if the student made a distinct effort to change.

"And as for Langdon, you don't have to forgive and forget, but make no mistake, he is not lucky. He's an addict. He did something wrong and he's doing his best to make amends and you can chose to forgive him for his actions or not, but you still have to wake up every day and live with yourself and your feelings." As a few nurses passed by he lowered his voice and added, "Moving forward nobody is gonna speak to you like he did during your first day, but do your best to not let that one prior experience ruin the rest of your residency."

"It's just been easier for everyone else."

"Has it?"

Mohan had nearly taken her own sabbatical, Whitaker spent his first shift covered in fluids of every variety, Mckay had found medicine later in life and Dana had quite literally seen it all. Nobody ever had it easy in the pitt. Jack included.

"If it makes you feel any better, my best friend had it so bad that he walked away from his whole life and left me to clean up his mess."

Jack had made a conscious effort to reach out to Robby every few days. He normally only got short responses and only one did he receive a call. It lasted no more than five minutes but it was enough for Jack to feel that maybe his friend wasn't too far gone.

Santos finally lifted her gaze from her nails that she was picking at. "Is Robby ever coming back?"

"I sure hope so."

***

Halloween was more than just a holiday for you. It was a day full of cheesy traditions that went far past trick or treating. It was pumpkin carvings, candy apples, pies with lattice work—the whole nine yards.

For Jack, Halloween was a nightmare shift. Party goers overdosing on mystery drugs and injuries that looked real but were just makeup mixed with fake blood.

You thought that maybe you could sway him on his stance but when you saw him in the early hours of the morning on November 1st you knew nothing was going to change his mind.

"I came with some treats."

"You're a little late," Ellis joked as she plucked a cookie from the container in your hand. "But good thing you got treats cause grumpy already had enough tricks tonight."

You turned to Lena as Jack and Ellis headed towards a triage room.

"So how bad was it?" you asked, weary of whatever answer might come your way.

"Oh it was a cakewalk but his peds kids decided to dress up like their favorite doctor."

"What does that mean?"

She extended her phone to you. On the screen was a picture of a bunch of children dressed in similar attire, all dressed as the same thing. Pirates.

"The peds pirates love Dr. Jack Abbot," she said. "Hes acting like it bothers him, but he loves it."

"He does, he's just a buzzkill for silly holidays," you explained while taking a seat besides her, waiting for Jack to finish up his shift so the two of you could spend your days off together. You had a 72 hours staycation planned and you had no intention of leaving Jack's apartment.

"I'm sure he prefers them to the fancy galas because I know he's dreading the one tonight."

"Gala?"

"He didn't tell you?"

A night full of fancy clothing, ass kissing, and fake niceties? Of course Jack left out that very key detail of his upcoming week.

You, on the other hand, were more than happy to schmooze your way around a banquet hall. You loved the dresses and the champagne flutes and the feeling that the power was in your hands.

Plus, what was the worst case scenario? You got dressed up only to get undressed by Jack at the end of the night? Didn't seem as miserable as he would inevitable make it out to be.

"He was probably hoping to find a way out of it so he would never have to tell me," you said pulling out your phone and checking your calendar. Your schedule was clear and you knew that there was a formal dress tucked in the back of your closet that still had the tags attached. "Oh, don't worry, Lena. He will be there."

***

Your dress was dragging beneath you as you made your way around the banquet hall with Jack beside you. He was forcing out a smile to the various benefactors present and he had already been thanked multiple times by the families of those whose lives he saved during Pitt Fest.

"How much longer before we can sneak out of here?" He asked as his hand that was on your lower back guided you towards the table you were assigned to.

"It's been twenty minutes," you said with a laugh. "We have to make it past the speeches."

"They're just gonna keep patting me on the back for doing my job."

You paused, turning to face him. "Because your job is important and you're incredible at it." Your fingers reached up to adjust his tie. "So take the praise and shake the donors down for everything they've got so that you can get funding for more nurses."

"I think I'd have a better chance at getting more nurses if you did the talking."

"You'd be surprised how easily women cave when they see you smile."

From the moment you walked inside you could tell how many eyes fell upon him. He was just the only person too blind to notice.

He thought the same about you. You were the one in a gorgeous black dress that clung perfectly to your body and who made him look like just an accessory.

"She really is your better half, huh?" Dana joked as she approached Jack by the bar somewhere around the hour mark. You were surrounded by a group of older women as they all watched you intently as you spoke.

He hummed in agreement. "Oh you can say that again."

"You lucked out with her."

"She made the last year bearable" he said, "Just wish Robby was here to share that hope with."

"He'll be back," she said confidently. "He's just a runner and eventually he'll get tired of running and come back."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Where's this worry coming from?"

"I've already been asked by multiple people about him tonight and I don't have an answer. We touch base every week but he's no closer to returning than he was in July."

Dana shrugged. "Then that's his path."

"I'm just having a hard time coming to terms with that."

"Such is life." She tipped her glass towards him. "But enough about Robby. Your date is making a b-line towards the doors."

If it wasn't for Dana's keen ability to snuff out the unrest in others you probably would've made it outside in time to hail an uber back to your place, completely scratching the three day escapade at Jack's that you had planned.

You barely made it to the steps before you heard Jack calling out behind you.

"Not so fast," he joked, his hands snaking around your waist. "What happened to us being a team. You can't leave me in their with those soulsuckers."

Jack was probably the last person you wanted to see in that moment. You really just needed some fresh air and a second to think without soft jazz playing in the background.

"Yeah, no, I just wanted to come outside for a second." You forced a smile that extended too far beyond the normal limits of your happiness and Jack instantly knew something was wrong.

"You're still a shit liar."

"It's nothing,"

"You're not a runner," Jack said, his mind still lingering on Robby and his conversation with Dana. "You aren't the type to run off with no warning."

"I guess you didn't tell people we were dating," you said as you fidgeted with the clutch in your hands.

"I don't make it a habit to tell administrators and those bankrolling the hospital about my love life."

"Okay."

"No, not okay," he said, stepping closer to you. "You're upset that I didn't tell everyone that I had a girlfriend?"

"Because Jack, someone assumed I was one of your miracle patients and then someone else insinuated I was an escort. Girlfriend wasn't even in the top five guesses."

Those older women were doing much more than listening to you speak. They were dissecting every part of you, picking apart your speech patterns and the way you dressed. They even noted the expensive dress you were wearing and had no problem asking how you afforded it.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you about tonight or force you to come."

You tried to keep your volume at a minimum as a few stray attendees came outside for a smoke break. "No you didn't want to bring me because you hate attention and you knew that toting around your young girlfriend would turn heads."

Jack didn't have anything to say to that.

"So did you tell everyone you were going to be bringing a patient or was that part just a coincidence?"

"I never claimed you were a patient."

You crossed your arms over your chest, covering any cleavage that was once on display. "Jack, that was humiliating."

He motioned to the door. "So let's go back inside and fix it."

"A woman insinuated that I was a sugar baby or some harlot you found on the corner."

Of course you knew that those were the musings of a jealous older woman who wanted to stir the pot, but it didn't make her comments any more palatable. They still struck a nerve.

"You are completely out of my league," he said, trying to bring a smile to your face.

"Jack Abbot, that is not the point," you said, your voice getting breathier as you tried to push down the lump in your throat. "Is this how it's always gonna be?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he shrugged. "Just until you get old and wrinkly like me."

"Jack."

He stepped forward and held onto your upper arms, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Baby, you're a grown woman. If they don't like us together it's their problem."

"And you're not gonna realize that they're right anytime soon?"

"Why are you so worried all of a sudden? Because of some jealous older women who don't like how beautiful you are?"

You looked around noting that those taking a smoke break and the valet workers weren't going to be moving anytime soon and you grabbed Jack's hand and pulled him further away from the building.

"Because a few months ago you talked about our future kids," you said as your heart rate picked up and you were far away from any prying eyes. "I don't want to think that's our future when a part of you might leave me one day when you realize those people are right.”

It felt silly how quickly you went from feeling secure to feeling like your relationship had the potential to crumble. You knew you were being irrational but sometimes that's how being in love with Jack Abbot felt. And the more in love you became the more you felt like you had something to lose.

"I can't do that to myself. I won't do that to myself. I won't picture us in that tudor in Squirrel Hill with that big front door if it's never really gonna happen," you added.

Jack's shoulders dropped. "The one with the big windows that face south? The one you always go out of your way to walk past?"

"Yes, the house that I cried about when it got taken off the market this summer."

"Oh honey, I know the house," he said with a roll of his eyes. "I know that it's 3500 square feet and has five bedrooms and four bathrooms and that it has a huge kitchen with a Thermador stove. And I know about that stove because I'm the one who made a builder add it. And the kitchen renovations should be done before the new year which was when I planned on asking you to marry me."

The ring was already locked in a safe in the master closet of the house in Squirrel Hill and prior to that it was hidden in one of his go bags that he knew you'd never touch. He had it all planned for months and he would've let the secret build for longer but he couldn't bare to watch you grapple with 'what ifs' and worries.

"So no, I can't imagine any world where I leave you because that house is ours not mine," he said, his voice as soft as it's ever been. "And now that the cat is out of the bag, can you at least do me the favor of letting me know if you're gonna be the one to leave me?"

You tried to blink away the shock. "You bought a house?"

"Yeah the apartment is too small for the both of us and I couldn't imagine our kids without a backyard."

You tapped him with your clutch, fighting back both laughter and tears. "There you are talking about our kids again."

He pulled your clutch from your hand. "I was thinking Jack jr. had a nice ring to it."

"Trust me, there is only one Jack Abbot I want."

dare i say the final part?

[wordssforworldss]

Casual: Jack Abbot

jack abbot x nurse reader, word count: 2.7k miscommunication, hurt/comfort, tiny bit of angst

It was no strings attached. It was off the books. It was casual.

It started with flirty comments in passing—when the shift got long and the nights grew suffocating it was a relief. Then the one off comments started to become everyday occurrences.

Then came some light touches when nobody was watching. Until finally he just walked up to you and decided enough was enough.

"Dinner at mine next week and before you say no, I already know you have off so you can't use that as an excuse."

You continued to stare down at the computer in front of you before finally caving and looking up at him. "What's in it for me?"

"Dinner," he said with a shrug as he picked up a tablet and headed towards his next case. "Dessert too."

Dessert seemed to be the main attraction and after you had your first meal you kept coming back for seconds. And you knew that it was messy to get involved with a coworker but none of that crossed you mind while he was pining you to his bed. You didn't even think about it as you did a walk of shame back to your place that night. Your actions only processed in your mind as he came up behind you at the nurses station and his hand slide across your lower back.

It was then that you realized that you fucked your superior. And based on the way your stomach tightened every time he even looked your way you knew that there was no going back. Unless going back meant going back to his place because you did that nearly every week.

The rest of the staff wasn't blind to the musing of their widower attending and their work obsessed charge nurse though. They noticed how he'd linger by the nurses station or how he began coming in with two cups of coffee. And they definitely noticed when you started coming to work at the same time.

You tried to play it off.

"My car is in the shop."

"I owed him coffee."

"My place is on the way and we have the same shift."

You couldn't lie for shit and everyone made sure to remind you of that. But after a few months the novelty of you two hooking up had passed and nobody batted an eye at the way his hand always guided you towards his car at the end of your shift. But just because it was something everyone knew about didn't mean you had any idea what exactly you were doing.

You were sleeping in each others beds. Your belongings had made their way into his apartment. He even had a designated spot in your dresser.

There were no labels because it was supposed to be easy. You guys were just having fun but sometimes it's hard to have fun when your mind keeps asking questions. You couldn't exactly ask Jack what you were without rocking the boat so for months you went with the flow. You picked up when he called, you went out for drinks when he suggested, and you stayed the night when he told you to. You were agreeable.

The only thing wrong with being agreeable is that sometimes you can get walked all over. And when you entered central 8 only to see him shirtless with Samira next to him you figured that was exactly what was happening.

"What are you doing here?" Samira asked, smile on her face. "I thought you had off."

She was right. It was your first real day off in weeks and if you were called for any other reason you would have sent the call to voicemail. You were supposed to be taking it easy, kicking up your feet, maybe drinking a glass of wine. Instead, you were at your place of employment with hair covered by a baseball cap and random pieces of clothing tossed on.

"You're looking at the reason," you said motioning to Jack. "I got a call from Dana telling me he was in a shooting."

A pin could've dropped against the tiled floors and everyone would have heard it. Nobody ever confirmed that there was something going on between you two. Up until then it was all hearsay but you just made it clear as day that, regardless of what, there was something going on between you and Jack Abbot. And it whatever it was, was enough to make you speed over to the hospital in fear.

Samira was quick to step back after cleaning up his wound before offering you a more comforting look. She might have been on the day shift but she knew that, label or no label, you belonged to Jack. You just couldn't quite tell if he belonged to you.

"I'll leave you to it," she muttered before leaving and shutting the door behind her.

You continued to stare at him, secretly inspecting his body for any other injuries. Him being a SWAT medic wasn't new. He had been volunteering with them for months, hopping on to calls whenever necessary. You had asked him if he thought there was any risk involved but he shook his head, saying that bad things could happen anywhere. You just really didn't like the idea of bad things happening to him.

“Dana shouldn’t have called you."

You weren't sure what you expect him to say but it wasn't that. You figured maybe an 'im okay' would be the first thing out of his mouth but instead you got attitude.

You shoved your hands into your pockets to keep from getting worked up and talking with them. It was a habit you were trying to break but as your feelings began to bubble up you couldn't help but motion around in frustration. “I’m sorry. You get shot and I’m supposed to not bat an eye?"

He rolled his eyes and he lifted his shirt. “She shouldn’t have called you because—," he paused, his sentance lingering between you both.

“Because we’re not together," you said, filling in the gap. “Right, well next time the guy I’m fucking gets shot at I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That’s not what I said."

He was eerily calm and that only made you angrier. It was like he was throwing water on an oil fire.

"No but you meant it." You looked up for a moment, trying to push your frustrated tears back into your eyes. "I'll go get Samira and we can forget that I came down here in the middle of my nap on my day off for your ungrateful ass."

You didn't bother sticking around to hear him explain his actions or defend himself. You were sleep deprived, emotional, and short on forgiveness.

"Is he all right?" Dana asked as you stormed past the nurses station.

"Oh he's just dandy." You rolled your lips together as you chose your next words carefully. "Next time he turns into a patient please remind everyone that we are not dating and that I do not wish to be informed."

Your words carried and caught the attention of a few coworkers, mainly the interns and residents that were addicted to whatever gossip hit their ears. You couldn't even blame them. You served them up a delicious plate of drama that not only involved an attending but also a charge nurse.

You were a grown woman. You did casual hookups for years, none of which ever felt how your situation with Jack felt. You never felt like lines were blurred and if they ever became blurred you called it quits. With Jack, you simply just let every single line become invisible.

Oh you want me to stay over? Sure.

You want me to be your date to that fundraiser? Of course.

You want to take care of me when the flu knocks me on my ass? The keys under the mat.

All of that for him to throw it in your face that you two were nothing. You were someone who didn't deserve a call after he was injured. You were someone he didn't want around after he was hurt.

But Samira was. And the worst part about that was that she was incredibly likable. You couldn't find it in you to hate her even when every bone in your body told you to despise her for being someone he allowed to help him. You couldn't even really find it in you to be mad at him. That was a lie. You were furious at him, but you were more so just mad at yourself for allowing boundaries to be crossed and for letting yourself get taken advantage of.

And for hooking up with your coworker.

How could you have been so dumb. That was rule number one. Don't fuck your boss. And what did you do? You fucked your boss. Repeatedly.

You thought about how to approach your future shifts, but nothing was ideal. You just had to go in and do what you did best which was run the ER. That approach worked on your first day back since he was off, but when he returned it was awkward. You stayed out of his way and when you spoke, you kept your eyes anywhere but his.

Eventually he cracked. "We can't keep doing this."

"There's an incoming trauma that needs your attention Dr. Abbot," you said, holding the landline to your ear. "Male, teens, degloving after riding an ATV."

He clapped his hand down on the counter. "We're gonna talk about this."

"We're not dating and we're no longer hooking up, so were done," you said, finally ditching your previous approach of faking formality. "Jack there's nothing to talk about."

He shook his head. "Well we can't keep working like this."

"Agreed."

The night shift was your baby. You worked your way up to your position over ten years and you cherished it. But you cherished your sanity more and so you decided to switch to a few day shifts. It started as a refresh from the tension but then it became a way to avoid seeing Jack.

Days were different and your body struggled to make the adjustment but it was Jack who took the shift change the hardest. He was used to you. He knew how you organized rooms, how you oversaw residents and patient discharges. He was used to you.

It was bad enough that his pre-shift routine was sullied by the fact that he no longer rode to work with you beside him, but now he had a charge nurse who didn't speak his language or understand his neurosis.

"Dana we gotta get her back on nights," he begged as he stood at a high top table at the nearby bar. "They're going to shit without her."

She clicked her tongue. "Uh, uh, I don't get involved in domestic disputes."

"Dana."

"Whatever you said to her that day was enough to make little miss sunshine snap so I think you're the only person who can solve that problem."

"I didn't say anything," he argued. "She assumed what I was going to say."

Dana tipped her bottle towards him. "Well she's a smart girl, so I'm guessing she assumed right."

He wanted to argue but he couldn't because while he didn't say that you guys weren't together he did nothing to say you were. He could have tried and blamed it on heightened emotions or adrenaline but even if that made up for his actions in the moment, he didn't chase after you or call or text. He let you sit in sadness for far too long.

So even if you returned to the night shift things were never going to return to the way they were. You no longer looked at him the same way. You now looked at him the way that you looked at your exes.

"When are you coming back?" Parker asked you as you stood next to the lockers. "The shifts ass without you."

"The shift would be worse with me and Jack in a mexican standoff over our quasi-relationship."

"It's been a month. Can't you two kiss and make up?"

"I made a bad judgement call when I mixed my personal life with my professional life and this is the best solution for everyone."

"But its not." She reached her arm towards your locker and blocked your path. "We're swamped and we need you back steering the ship."

You sighed. "If I come back things aren't gonna be the same."

"The same for me or for Abbot?"

"I didn't leave my shift for him," you said while sliding past her. "I left it for me and if I return it'll be out of pity for all of you sad, sad attendings and residents who can't function without me."

When you returned to the night shift it was most certainly out of pity. You couldn't take the begging and you hated having to rationalize your actions to others when they always knew you were lying. They knew you left nights to avoid Jack even if you said it was because of your desire to stop being nocturnal.

"It's good to have you back," Shen smiled as he passed by you. "Wasn't the same without you."

"It's good to be back."

It wasn't a complete lie. You loved working nights. You were used to the midnight crazies and the way things got eerily quiet right before a trauma came in. Most of all you were used to being in charge.

"You're here."

You didn't need to turn away from the board to know who was behind you. "In the flesh."

You kept every interaction short. No more than a sentence was spoken at a time and if you caught yourself wanting to tell him more you just shoved your face down into your work.

"It was good having you back. We missed you," he said as you packed up your stuff for the day. With Dana already at the desk you were ready to leave. You just had to have one last awkward conversation.

"So I heard," you joked as you tossed your bag over your shoulder and started to make your way towards the doors to the ambulance bay.

"I know this isn't the time, but this isn't right. This isn't how we work."

You turned around, finally coming face to face with him once you were both outside and away from prying eyes. "Jack, I got a little too comfortable playing house and I forgot that you were my coworker and I can't do that again, so actually this is right."

He shook his head. "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

"If I'm not mistaken you made it clear that I was wrong when I showed up to check on you that day."

"I wasn't upset that you were there to check on me. I was upset that I was being looked at like a patient."

He took a step closer to you and it took everything in you to not take a step back.

"The last time someone walked into my room after I was injured it was my wife and I was down a leg," he admitted. "Seeing you storm in like that was a blast from the past and it had nothing to do with you."

You had known Jack for nearly three years. When you first started working you took notice of the ring but then a year past and it disappeared from his hand. You never questioned it or pried into his life but you knew his past and you knew it well enough to feel like you received a kick to the gut when you finally processed what he was saying.

"And Samira being there was okay?" you asked as you tried to deflect from the embarrassment of being wrong.

"Yeah," he said, "because I don't love Samira."

"You can't say stuff like that."

"Why not?"

"Because we're not together," you said, fumbling with your words. You were fresh off a long shift and your mind was running a million miles a minute.

Jack's hands reached fo your waist, urging you to come closer.

"We were just having some casual fling," you added as you tried to wrap your head around what was happening.

His laughter caught you off guard but his smile made your feet feel like bricks, keeping you in place. Of course he had loved you. He knew you more than anyone else. He knew that you needed the AC blasting in the car and how you couldn't stand horror movies. He knew you took your coffee in whatever form it came in and he knew you well enough to know that you weren't gonna believe his words the first time around.

"Let me be extra clear, " he said, his mouth inches from yours, "there is nothing casual about how I feel about you."

[wordssforworldss]

Pushing it Down and Praying: Jack Abbot

jack abbot x reader imagine, word count: 2.8k happy ending dw trigger warnings: angst, mature content and themes, references to abortion and surgical procedures, medical emergencies.

It was a means to an end. He was a means to an end. In fact most of your encounters with men felt that way as of late. They felt transactional. But not in the sense that both parties benefited. You weren't getting a good or service for a nominal cost. Or maybe you were.

If using your body to trick your mind into feeling like you were getting over him counted then you were making transactions. You were making them nearly every weekend since your split and every time you closed your eyes you were picturing that the man above you was the man who left you to heal.

You wondered if he meant he needed to heal or if he thought you needed to. Either would've been accurate. You didn't need a professional to tell you that you had an unhealthy set of coping mechanisms.

Reckless sexual encounters, drinking, and reclusive behavior when neither of those two made you feel any better. But then the cycle would restart and this time you'd try going to the gym or on a shopping spree only to hide out in your small studio apartment wishing you had just been better about everything from the start.

Jack wasn't much better. He threw himself into his work and as long as the shifts kept coming he didn't have to think about anything else. Sometimes a feeling would bubble or a thought would spark but it was quickly removed from his being as he treated a new patient.

So when he called it quits with you in order to heal he meant himself, but his words were that of the therapist he had been seeing. The same therapist who thought that it was time for Jack to put himself back out there. The same therapist who subsequently thought maybe a twenty something year old wasn't exactly what he had in mind when encouraging his patient to try and find love.

But it was not his therapist who ended things with you. That was all him. He was the one who left your apartment in a rush and who decided that a relationship 'wasn't in the cards.'

In that moment you realized that you weren't even staring at the same deck of cards. He was playing poker and you were playing uno and you were sorely underprepared for the man who was inside of you an hour prior to just decide it would be no more.

As you laid under your sheets, your headboard tapping into the wall behind it, you wondered how quickly this one would leave. Would he linger afterwards or would he dart like he did.

You also wondered if the poor fool inside of you could tell that in your mind you were picturing another man—one that knew that you hated being under the covers and that you only liked to have the light on if you were having morning sex. The one who knew that if you were spacing out midway through that it was probably time to call it quits.

But the hinge match was lucky he even managed to make it into your bed. Most of the men you tried to distract yourself with barely got to second base with you. But the man in your bed wasn't Jack so he didn't seem to mind your disinterest in him. He only seemed to care when he noticed that the condom ripped.

And in that moment you were the one to rush him out of your place, rummaging around for your phone to call your best friend.

Your finger hovered over her contact for what felt like minutes before you caved and pulled the phone to your ear.

"It's three in the morning."

"I think I'm pregnant."

"What?"

"The condom broke and I realized that I haven't had my period in like six weeks which means I'm probably already pregnant but the only person I was seeing six weeks ago was Jack and that is more than just over. It's deader than dead."

Within the hour your friend had bought enough pregnancy tests to supply the entire city of Pittsburgh. Your bathroom floor became home to you both and over the course of the next few hours you took test after test and cycled through every possibility.

"I don't want a kid," you said, taping the sixth test against the tile. "I can barely take care of myself." She stayed quiet as you struggled to form your next sentence. "And I know I have been irresponsible, but I was far from irresponsible with Jack. I did everything right when we were together. I was even on birth control."

"So then you have your answer."

"I know I do, but I'm terrified to walk into the hospital and ask for what I want."

"So I'll go with you."

And so she did. You waited until the late morning when you both got a few hours of sleep before driving to a hospital outside of town. You both sat in the tiny waiting room chairs until you were called back.

You walked in and out of there as just a random woman. You didn't think there would be any more choices to be made. And when your friend noticed that you were looking paler than normal and that you had bled through a second pair of shorts in just an hour there weren't any more choices to be made because she made one for you. Well you had a choice. You were either going back to the hospital in her car or in an ambulance but much like before the choice was made for you when you collapsed on the front steps to your apartment building.

Jack also had choices. He chose to come in on his night off. He chose to walk to work instead of drive his truck. He even chose to hop onto the first trauma that rolled through the doors.

"Female, 20's, hypotensive, BP 55/40. Friend said she thinks it's complications following a medical abortion she had this morning."

When he looked down at the gurney and saw it was you, he had an even bigger choice to make, but much like you someone else made the call.

"You're not working on her, go wait by the nurses station," Robby said once he realized.

You only met Robby once. It was at your bar and you felt like an idiot standing across to the both of them. They were high power professionals and you were a bartender that was catching feelings for an older man who was probably only looking at you with twinkly eyes because you were supplying him with beers once or twice a week.

If you were conscious enough to realize that Robby was the one saving your life you probably would've tried to walk out of the building. And god forbid you saw Jack. You would've thrown up on the spot.

"Is she gonna be okay?" your friend asked as she stood outside your room. Everything happened so quickly. One minute you were in the trauma room, the next you were in an OR.

"Tell me what happened," said Jack as he continued to stare at your stats.

"She had an abortion. I think you know what happened."

"Is she okay?"

"I asked you that."

He turned to her. "I meant was she okay before the complications?"

"Yeah as okay as you can be when you're panicking on the bathroom floor thinking everyone is gonna judge you when they find out."

"Nobody should judge her. It was her call," he said before turning back to keep an eye on your blood pressure.

"When she wakes up you should tell her that."

"When she wakes up I won't be here and that's for the best."

"You know that she would randomly start crying in the middle of her shifts during the first week And she'd call me every time she talked to another guy she found attractive because she thought she was broken for not being able to move on with them. Worst of all I thought she was doing better only for the crying to start back up."

"Hormonal changes are common."

"For a doctor you sure are thick," she said, finally dropping the composure she once was trying to maintain

"She was crying because the man she loved decided to up and leave when things were good."

"Must've gotten over me quick enough." He dropped your file back into the bin outside your door and started to walk away.

"Seven weeks," she snapped, no longer caring to be civil with him.

"Seven weeks of what?"

"She was seven weeks," she said. "And I'm no mathematician but that made you the father so be a little less crass when you're talking about my best friend who you knocked up."

Jack's therapist warned him that being hasty was just as bad as being avoidant. Happy mediums existed even if he couldn’t quite figure them out. But in trauma things usually went one of two ways. Good or bad. Patients were either alive or they were dead. There was no in between.

And as he thought about you he kept tethering between extremes. Did he want to move on and forget about you all together or did he want to wait outside your hospital room and make sure you were okay. Because there was most definitely still a part of him that cared.

"Tell her that I'm sorry I couldn't have been there for her, but that it was for the best."

"Is that how you sleep at night? Do you just constantly tell yourself that the hard things are for the best? Because sometimes they aren't. Sometimes the hard things are hard for no reason and it's up to you to push forward instead of just giving up because when you push forward that's when you get to the good stuff."

"So you think if we stayed together that everything would be sunshine and rainbows?"

"I think if you stayed with her I would've had to beg her to break up with you because while your handsome and smart and you make her happy, you would just drag her down with your inability to fix yourself."

***

It was a random day in January when your paths crossed again. You no longer thought about Jack every time you drove past PTMC and you didn't feel a pit in your stomach every time a man with salt and pepper hair sat down at your bar. Over a year passed and all traces of him were wiped from your life. Even the scar from where you ripped your IV out and tried to leave the hospital was starting to fade.

You had a feeling that the scar that you'd get from needing twenty stitches wouldn't do the same. Your new barback was not taking well to her new job and within four hours she managed to break four glasses. She was on a streak and she probably would've set a new record if you didn't take a large shard to the palm.

That part almost didn't faze you. You wrapped the cut and when it didn't seem to be staying closed you glued it until the bar was closed and you could get to the hospital. The nurse who first looked at you thought you were insane and then a resident thought the same.

But Jack chuckled to himself as his resident told him about the hack job some girl did to her hand.

"I'm gonna need to see this." There was a sense of pride in his chest at the thought of some girl doing the same thing he would probably do but when he opened up the door to central 7 he wasn't sure what he was feeling.

Shock, fear, upset.

"Must be a slow night," you said as he paused in front of the gurney. "I was telling your resident that I didn't think it was deep enough for stitches which is the only reason I used glue."

"You waited until the bar closed?" he asked, snapping on gloves. "I thought I told you that if a wound was in an area that would keep opening that you'd need stitches."

"You watched me cut my finger prepping limes."

He took your hand and turned it over to get a better look at your injury. It was indeed a hack job. "So you remembered that moment but not the advice?"

"I was always the dumb one."

"Don't say that."

"I recall you telling me that I always made stupid decisions," you said while allowing him to take your hand in his.

"You ripped out your IV and tried to elope."

"You try waking after an abortion that caused you to hemorrhage only to see the man who broke your heart and then tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing."

That was the last time he spoke to you. He had seen you, though. He saw you walking out of the coffee shop near your apartment that sold the best bagels in the city and he considered saying hello but you looked happy and he couldn't bring himself to ruin that. Especially not after what he said to you on one of the worst days of your life.

"I probably would've made it a little further than you did," he said, trying to distract himself from the guilt that was still eating at him.

"Not with that bum leg, you wouldn't."

He released your hand. "Touché. I'm gonna clean this up and we'll get you some stitches."

"You don't have to do grunt work," you said, "have one of the interns do it."

"I want to."

You stayed quiet as he set up, your hand resting gently next to the suture tray. "If you consider this some form of penance then I guess you're still a glutton for punishment."

"My therapist likes to think that I've gotten past that."

"I'm not sure I trust your therapists opinion."

He shook his head. "Different one."

"Does this one think that I'm ruining your life too?"

You thought that the resentment and anger had left your body over the course of a year. You didn't anticipate feeling like it was all coming back up, a lump forming in your throat.

"No he thinks the only one ruining my life is me."

"Sounds like a keeper."

He was. He let Jack decide what he wanted to talk about but he didn't let him talk aimlessly without any reflection. He forced Jack to look in a mirror which was, after all, what he was paid to do unlike the first guy who Jack cut checks for just so he had someone to vent to.

"He's obviously not here so I'll give you some unsolicited advice for free. Don't handle your injuries like this again."

"Damn, I was really counting on adding to my sex appeal with more scars."

He motioned to your head. "Is that why you changed your hair?"

"No that was the result of a depressive episode caused by my hormones after everything."

He had thought about working up the courage to dial your number or sending a text to apologize for that day in the hospital but it never felt right. He knew an apology was best said in person but he feared that you'd never agree to sit across from him rehashing the past and glossing over past traumas.

And right now he was in person and you had both already rehashed the past and glossed over past trauma.

"I'm sorry for what I said that day," he muttered after he finished tying off the last suture and placing down his instruments.

You looked down, avoiding his stare and focusing on the numbness in your palm. You had wanted an apology for months. You thought that hearing him feel bad would make you feel better. Now you knew that wasn't true. All his apology did was make you feel guilty for your actions.

"I'm sorry I didn't let you know before I did it."

"That just about the last thing I ever want to hear you apologize for."

"Well thank you for this," you said while lifting up your freshly bandaged hand. "And thank you for the apology."

"I'd tell you that I'd make it up to you, but I think I lost that privilege."

"You can always gain that back," you said, your voice dripping with sincerity. "I'd say this was a fairly good start."

"Come back after a week and I'll make sure that everything healed how it should have."

"Save me a hospital visit," you suggested. "You can meet me at the cafe you always linger outside of."

You cracked a smile as you watched him struggle to defend his actions. He thought he was slick waiting to enter until you were gone.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I healed Jack. Even if I thought I didn't need to, I did. I was just waiting to see if you did the same."

"I guess time will tell."

[wordssforworldss]

All Tied Up IV: Jack Abbot

jack abbot x reader, word count: 3k part three

If there was one type of case that shook everyone in the pitt to their core it was the cases that involved children. And for Jack they were only hitting harder as he spent more time volunteering on the peds floor.

That wasn't something he used to struggle with. He had witnessed so much over the years that nothing fazed him. He was indifferent to most things because that was how he made it through the day. But slowly but surely the casualties and cases were chipping away at that hard exterior.

So when the phone rang for a trauma involving a local summer camp he found himself having to push down his feelings to focus on the task at hand.

“Listen up, there was a fire at a summer camp nearby," he announced, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Like kids?” Shen asked, his coffee cup no longer in his hand. “Like cabins full of kids?”

“Be prepared for smoke annihilation. Check everyone's airways. There are going to be some gnarly burns if this is as bad as we're hearing and you're gonna see injuries from debris. Lastly, Lena, let’s contact social work and make sure we have somewhere for parents to gather once they're contacted.”

“How many kids are we talking?”

“At least twenty,” said Lena as she began to order her staff around. Beds needed to be moved, trauma rooms needed to become ready to treat multiple patients and the OR’s needed to be on standby. 

Jack gathered his staff in front of the doors of the ambulance bay. He looked around at his fellow attendings and the two R3's who had taken to his shift. “We treat kids all the time but they're not adults in tiny bodies. If they're awake and responsive please remember that they're gonna be scared. They're gonna have questions and I'd love for you to have good bedside manner but now isn't the time. We’ll have peds down here along with nurses to keep an eye on them and keep them calm, but you need to triage and be effective with your time.”

The triage wristbands were in Ellis's hand and as she wrapped the belt around her waist everyone had the same sick feeling in their stomach.

Jack spoke up one last time as the first ambulance made its way towards them. “I know this is bringing up a lot for some of you but this isn’t that day. These are just kids who are gonna need our help so let's lock in.”

And so they did. Everyone worked together, switching seamlessly through their zones waiting for the day shift to make their appearances, forcing themselves to block out the smell of burnt flesh and the sounds of children crying.

Somewhere around 6am, Jack was able to take a beat and clear his mind with fresh morning air but he was quickly tossed back into the thick of it as other traumas made their way to the department.

It wasn't until nearly 9am when he was able to reach into his pocket and press down on your contact, needing to hear the voice that always managed to cheer him up.

Your morning was different. You had an early start and were going to be heading home once the last of your checklist was completed.

You were in the middle of loading danishes into the pastry case when a coworker turned on the morning news, distracting everyone from their work. It was a common occurrence and you learned to tune it out. It did you no good to hear broadcasters talk about the state of the country or to hear the countless amount of panic inducing stories. 

It was only when you heard your phone buzz in your pocket that you took a look at the television that was mounted on the wall. Reporters stood outside PTMC droning on about god knows what. Blood rushed to your ears and your heart felt like it was going to spring out of your chest. 

“Are you gonna answer that?” your coworker asked, referencing your phone that was still buzzing. You scurried into the back and pressed your phone to your ear. 

“Jack?”

“Hey, I’m okay but my shift ran over because of everything.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard his voice. “Is it bad?”

“Yeah it's not great. A couple really bad burns and injuries from debris but mainly just a lot of kids with cuts and scrapes from falls and trips as they tried to navigate in the dark. We’re just waiting on their parents.”

“Kids?” you confirmed. “Like tiny humans?”

Kids were your kryptonite. You couldn't handle seeing them upset or in pain. It wasn't because you were some mother hen or anything. You just tended to freak out at the idea of someone being helpless and, well, most children were helpless.

It's why Jack didn't tell you much about the kids he hung out with in the peds wing. He knew you’d get attached and ultimately turn into a blubbering mess if anything happened to them. Instead, he just referenced them in passing or when something funny happened. Like a few days prior when one of them chucked a toy car at his head and he came home with a bruise on his temple. 

"Did the robot doctor get a boo-boo?"

"Are you gonna kiss it better or keep taunting me?"

He sensed your worry and tried his best to settle any concern. “Yeah, but they're gonna be okay. I’m more worried about how this day shift is gonna run with Robby still on his sabbatical, Langdon and Santos at each other's throats and Mohan on the brink of a career change.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yeah, you can stay at the cafe and I'll come pick you up when I'm done here so we can grab breakfast.”

“Yeah take your time I’m just getting ahead of tomorrow's tasks.” 

It was 11am by the time Jack was able to leave the day shift in a good spot and when you walked outside the cafe he was waiting by the passenger door of his truck, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I’m sorry I took so long to get here. Mohan needed a nice lecture.”

“Is she the one they were calling 'slo mo' last year?" you asked as he opened up the door for you. "Because I still think that was incredibly unprofessional and rude."

“Yeah she was and Robby previously said some things that made her question her career path and I had to make sure she didn't take his words to heart.”

When Jack got into the driver's seat you asked, “How is he doing? Have you heard from him?”

“He’s somewhere in Montana but I check in on him every few days and if he ever doesn’t answer I’ll hunt him down for sport.”

The dynamic that existed between Jack and Robby was something you tried to examine and wrap your head around, but every time you thought you had them figured out you were back to square one.

“If that were to happen you could take Holly with you. That girl can find out anything about anyone.”

“Is that the quiet one?”

“No this is the one who said you remind her of her steelers-fan-father.”

“I've heard worse.”

As he turned the key in the ignition you noticed the way his actions felt slow. It wasn't in a 'too tired to drive way,' but in a way that made him seem unsure of his next move.

"Do you want to talk about the traumas that came in?”

“No, I'm sure there's something else you want to talk about.”

You shook your head. Nothing interesting ever happened while at the cafe. The same regulars always came in. Their orders never changed. The old man with large glasses always demanded a bone dry cappuccino and every time it wasn't dry enough. There was a woman whose skinny latte was always ready for her to grab it at 7am and your favorite was a mother and daughter duo who always picked out a different dessert.

Sometimes things happened at the bed and breakfast when you'd stop by, but those stories were always told to you, never first hand accounts.

Today you had nothing to share.

“I'm all ears," you said. Jack's hand that was hovering over the gear shift returned to his lap.

“A summer camp had a fire and a cabin of kids was stuck trying to evacuate and then the nearby cabin caught fire and those kids were trying to get out but it was the middle of the night and pitch black and I just don't get how parents agreed to send their kids somewhere that had such bad plans for emergencies.”

“Because sometimes it takes the worst happening for people to think that the worst could happen.”

That was something you learned after Pitt fest.

“Yeah well those poor counselors were like Holly’s age and they couldn't stop crying because they were all blaming themselves. Meanwhile they have third degree burns all over their bodies and my dumb interns are the ones debriding their wounds.”

You could tell that this was sticking with him more than any of his recent cases. He wasn’t the type to take his work home with him. He checked it at the door or rather the roof.

“Do you want to go back and check on them?” you asked, taking his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze. “We can go back.”

“No, we agreed I wouldn't drag you there and I also promised you breakfast.”

“You're not dragging me. I’m offering and from the sound of it maybe your staff could use some food and I have plenty that we can bring.”

You hadn't mentioned the emergency room since the events of July 4th when you made it clear that you'd never return. But between you both it was no longer a topic of conversation because Jack knew better than to make it one or to insinuate that you should stop by.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded, unclicking yourself from your seat. “For future reference you can't compare patients to Holly because you know I'd do anything for that girl.”

“Fair enough, but I’ll bring you to the staff lounge so you don't have to see anything.”

“I'm trying to gauge what to bring so on a scale of one to ten, how bad?" You were also trying to gauge how much youd have to prepare yourself in the ten minutes it would take you to make a nice box of pastries.

“Bad enough that our kids aren't going to sleepaway camp unless I'm the one who personally comes up with the evacuation plans for the camp.” he said as his hand gripped the steering wheel. 

Our kids. He caught himself saying it before he could stop himself. But in all honesty he didn't want to stop himself. He knew what he wanted and he wanted it with you.

You were articulate and kind. You thought before you spoke and even when you didn't you’d find a way to make sure that whoever was listening to you also felt heard. You were caring and nurturing to everyone around you regardless of who they were or how old they were. You lit up every room you entered and you found a way to make the really bad moments bearable. And you'd be a shoo-in for the school bake sale.

His word choice didn't escape you either. You heard the way he spoke about your future kids as if they were inevitable and it made your stomach turn to knots. He wasn't talking in 'what ifs.' He was talking in fact. He had decided that his kids would also be yours. Normally that kind of talk would have sent you into a frenzy but from Jack it made you feel at peace like things were already decided.

But your doubt crept in. What if it was a mistake and you jumped on his words prematurely? You didn’t want to scare him off if it was just a Freudian slip. So instead you gave him a kind smile while nodding. “That's fine by me," you said, "I’ll go get the food.”

Our kids. He couldn't believe he had said that to you. It was wrong of him, he thought. Why would he mention having kids to a woman he had only been dating for five months? The answer was simple. He said it because it felt right and he was too old to care about the expected timelines. He had lived long enough to know what he wanted and he wanted a family. But more important he wanted you by his side.

That feeling only grew when he watched the way you interacted with his coworkers.

"I thought maybe I could make up for the last time we met," you said to Dana, motioning to the box in your hands. "And, well, he seemed like he needed a chaperone."

Jack nodded. "She's not a fan of blood so keep her away from the trauma rooms."

"Yeah I'm probably best locked in a staff lounge or somewhere with limited chaos."

"Then I'll lead the way," she said.

You stayed tucked in the small room as different staff members came and went. You were able to share a few words with some individuals who you had previously heard about. Dr. Mohan in particular seemed grateful for your presence.

You weren't quite sure why, but it might've had something to do with what Jack had said to her earlier. As he discussed the future with Samira, he referenced you and your career change. While he shared that you were intelligent and capable of the jobs your degree could provide you with, he explained that it wasnt sparking joy for you anymore. But he knew that medicine sparked joy for her and she would be a fool to let one man's words take that joy from her.

He also spoke about how some things will always be there to fall back on but that medicine wasn't forgiving. It was better to push through and take a pause than it was to stop right before the finish line.

"You know, if you ever want a break from this chaos I'd love to show you how to bake. I think you might find it relaxing," you said to her as she headed for the door. "But no pressure or anything."

"He really struck gold with you, huh?" Dana asked as she traded places with Samira in the doorway.

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Well you must love him a lot to be back here."

Jack paused when he heard Dana’s voice coming from the staff lounge. He knew better than to eavesdrop but he also wanted to give you the space to get to know the people he spent most of his week alongside.

"Compromise is usually a bitch because it means each party is giving up something but this doesn't feel like that," you said. "Not when I get so much from seeing him do what he does best. Although he's already decided sleepaway camps are out of the question because of this."

"He'd be a good dad, a little neurotic and protective but good."

You were silent at Dana’s words, too busy picturing him caring for a child. He was so no nonsense and everything he did felt planned out—even the things that happened naturally were done so well that they seemed pre-decided. But just because it was hard to imagine didn’t mean it was impossible. You could easily see him getting woken up in the morning by a tiny version of himself or him being forced into a Halloween costume because puppy dog eyes always worked on him when accompanied by a hug.

There was a world where all of that was possible and you liked the idea of that world but it wasn’t happening any time soon even if you felt tempted to act on that urge every time you go into bed with him.

“He will be, but for now I’m gonna let him take care of his work children.”

And you would secretly start taking care of them yourself. It started small with food drop offs. Then you invited Ellis and Shen to grab breakfast at your cafe after their shift ended which eventually turned into weekly brunch at your place where everyone finally felt like they could sit back and relax. And when Whitaker switched to the night shift following Robby's sabbatical, it was like the island of misfit toys in your living room.

"You know if you wanted to take in a strays I would've got you a dog," Jack said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands snaked around you waist as you continued to clean the dishes in your sink. "Because we can keeping feeding them, but I think they're growing attached."

"It's just weekly brunch."

"And my coworkers are sitting on your couch."

"It could be your couch."

"Ellis does not deserve to see the inside of my apartment." He slowly unraveled his body from yours and accepted a clean plate that was ready for him to dry.

"Not even for Thanksgiving?" you asked, referencing the holiday that was steadily approaching. Of course you still had to make it through Halloween and your birthday but those would be a cakewalk. Thanksgiving on the other hand was a marathon not a sprint and, unlike the previous year, you were sure you'd have plans.

"You want to do thanksgiving at my place?"

"I want to spend the holiday with the man I love but I also know that those four can't cook and that they have no family in town."

He looked over at your couch. Shen was chewing on the straw to his coffee while staring blankly at your television. He had chatted himself into a food coma and not even the caffeine was helping. Whitaker was half asleep with his forehead resting against his fist and Ellis was being nosy, watching the two of you move about the kitchen.

Jack took a beat before turning back to you and once against admitting defeat. "Fine, but if Ellis makes one comment about my furniture I'm revoking her invitation to these little free meal tickets."

part five

[wordssforworldss]

All Tied Up III: Jack Abbot

jack abbot x reader, word count 2.3k part two

The night shift was eerily quiet—the type of quiet that barred anyone from saying that word out loud. That type that allowed everyone to take a breath and catch up on their charting. It was also the type that forced everyone to reflect. There was a saying after all. An idle mind is the devil's workshop. 

For Jack the ER kept him busy. It kept him from thinking back on everything he spent years pushing back down. Of course he would retreat to the roof at the end of most shifts but that was different. It was a prepared moment of reflection. It was nothing like what he was confronted with as he stood at the nurses station, eyes scanning the board. 

He hadn’t seen you in a few days and he was growing weary at the thought of not laying eyes on you for another few. Afterall, you had planted the seeds of doubt regarding his volunteer choices and Dr. Oliver had made sure to water those seeds.

He was set to spend the rest of the day with the SWAT guys and you were swamped with catering summer weddings and events. He thought about reminding you where he'd be come noon, but knowing you, you already knew exactly what he'd be doing.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lena asked as she looked at her attending. 

“Nope, just waiting to see what needs my attention.”

“It’s 4am. I'm sure someone, somewhere needs it.

"Time flies,” he said, shaking his wrist and staring down at his watch to verify the time only for his phone to ding in his pocket. “And that’s what I was waiting for.”

“Would that happen to be the woman Dana mentioned?”

"It would." He smiled to himself as he read your message or as you called it your proof of life. “She oversees the bakery for a cafe so she's usually getting there around this time.”

“So you found yourself a night owl.”

“No, not at all.” He chuckled. “Just a morning person who doesn’t mind a good midday nap.”

You had a strict bedtime of 8pm. It was something that Jack teased you about. He called you grandma every time you fell asleep on the couch while watching a movie and he mocked your nightly routine that involved a cup of tea.

But it was now 4:15am and he knew that you had already chugged an ice coffee and that you were probably already elbow deep in some dough for whatever recipe was taking precedent this morning.

“Anything else I should know about her?”

He rocked back and forth on his feet, his arms crossed over his chest as he tried to look busy. “She makes the pastries I always drop in the staff lounge.”

“So why have you been hiding her from us? She sounds amazing.”

“She hates hospitals.”

“Don't we all.”

“She’d love to meet you all, I just don't think this is the place for it to happen. Not after what happened on the 4th.”

“So all the drama happens on day shift now? We’re losing our reputation,” Ellis said as she joined the conversation that she was already listening in on. “The girl is out of your league, though.”

“And how would you know that”

“Because one of the day shifters found her instagram and I can confirm she's too hot for you.”

“Too smart for me too.” He said under his breath before pointing at the computer in front of Ellis. “Finish your charts.”

“Oh I finished those twenty minutes ago. Now I’m keeping myself entertained.”

“Here's an idea," he started, "entertain yourself with the abdominal pain in central 8.”

“I liked you better when you were single. "You were moody, but you didn't trick me with a false sense of joy.” 

“And I liked you better before you said my girlfriend is hotter than me.”

“Facts over feelings, boss.”

Facts over feelings.

He'd usually agree, but working in the ER made things different. Sometimes things weren't as they seemed. Like the fact that the night shift was nearly over but he had a feeling that something was brewing that would keep him there longer. The ED forced individuals to develop a 6th sense and Jack had it. He knew when something bad was headed his way and when that red phone rang right around 6am, he knew. 

***

Another cop rolled out of Jack Abbot's trauma bay. This time it was a bullet that hit the femoral. A properly placed tourniquet in the field was the only reason the man made it out of his trauma room and to the OR. The second cop wasn’t so lucky. He was DOA and the look on Dana’s face as Jack approached the nurses station said it all. 

“Someone with the proper training saved that man’s life and maybe if they knew how to put in a chest tube both of them would’ve survived.” 

“I didn’t say anything," she said while adjusting her glasses.

“Your face said it.”

Dr. Oliver knew about his savior complex. It wasn’t necessarily rooted in narcissism or the need for others to praise him but he needed to feel like he was doing good. As more time passed it was no longer just Dr. Oliver who picked up on this. It was becoming more and more evident to everyone around Jack just how deep his need to do good went. 

Dr. Oliver knew that it was a result of low self esteem but if she ever insinuated that, Jack would deny it. Low self esteem? Never. He thought highly of his appearance and personality. He just didn’t ever think that he was enough so he forced himself to do more than enough to fill that hole. But that hole was more of an abyss and he was due to realize that nothing exterior was going to fill something that was interior. 

"I have to go check in with peds about my patient from last night."

***

It had been nearly two week since you had seen Jack for more than a quick pop in before his shifts. You exchanged phone calls to catch up but you were sure that he was slowly starting to distance himself from you and you were starting to become okay with that because from what you knew nothing had changed. The 4th of July was a distant memory and with Labor day approaching you tried to keep your eyes on the future. But from what you knew he was still the same Jack that made you worry about him and you were still the same girl stuck worrying.

It wasn't something you wanted. You wanted to find a way to make your relationship work, but you couldn't fix something that wasn't seeming to exist. Your schedules were a problem but as more time passed without you sleeping in the same bed you were starting to worry that they were only a part of the problem.

Could you even call what you two were in a relationship with it being a month since you had sex and three weeks since you sat down across from each other and shared a meal.

These were the thoughts that swirled around your mind every time you got ready for work and glanced over at the picture of you two on your nightstand and they were the thoughts that haunted you as you made someone else's wedding cake.

You were adding the final touches when your phone rang, the chimes echoing through the kitchen. 

“Can one of you girls reach into my purse and answer that for me?” You called out to nobody in particular. You had three girls that worked alongside you. Each reminding you of a younger sister you never had but always wanted. They were hard workers and they enjoyed being creative which came in handy whenever someone requested something out of the box.

“Umm, it’s Jack.”

The girls were great. The only issue was that they were young and for some reason they were afraid to answer the phone. Especially when Jack was calling.

You looked down at your hands that were holding delicate edible roses. “Just answer it and tell him that if I break these flowers my day is gonna be ruined.”

“Hey Jack, she’s got her hands full right now, is there anything I can tell her?”

“No, kid, I’m sorry,” he sighed into the line. “I really need you to give her the phone.”

“Can I put you on speaker for her?”

“No, no, you gotta give her the phone.”

"Okay, wait a second."

That caused your head to snap back up. “Is everything okay?” you asked and her shoulders went up as she held the phone out towards you. 

“He sounds upset like how my dad gets when he thinks the Steelers are gonna lose.”

You didn't bother being gentle with the flowers as you placed them down. You just grabbed the phone and stepped away from the girls. “Jack babe, what's wrong?”

“Where are you right now?”

“The kitchen space at the cafe, why?”

“The station got a call that there was an assault near the cafe.”

Your heart sank at his words but it almost hurt more to hear him sound so worried. “Okay, well I'm okay. Everyone in here is okay.”

“I'm headed over now.”

You pressed your hand into your forehead. “Jack, I'm okay, you don't have to do that." You know it was too late for you to tell him otherwise. Once he made a decision he was usually set on following through with it. "There's no changing your mind is there?"

This time he was already in his truck, heading towards the cafe. He had rushed to his car the second officers were dispatched to the location.

"No."

"Alright then you can come hang out while I finish up for the day and then you can take me home if that will make you feel better."

The girls looked concerned at your words but quickly returned to their designated tasks once you were off the phone.

Jack usually never came to the kitchen unless it was to pick you up or drop you off. That's how they liked it. They liked him at a distance because he always seemed so serious. None of them could get a good read on him but they trusted that he must've been a good guy if you were with him.

"You should be asleep," you said to Jack as you opened the back door, allowing him inside.

"I'll sleep when we get home," he said before pressing a kiss to your lips and placing his hand on your lower back.

Home. You always considered your apartment to be home. It was the space that held all of your belongings and the space that brought you comfort.

But when Jack said home you weren't quite sure what he meant because before your argument his apartment started to feel like it was also yours. Even before you officially started dating he made you feel welcomed in his space during the times that you had spent afternoons meal prepping together.

"Well the girls are finishing the last custom cakes and I have to answer some emails, so are you okay waiting?"

He nodded and followed you to the corner of the kitchen that was converted into a makeshift office. He scanned the room, his eyes landing on the girls who snapped their heads back to the cakes in front of them when they noticed him staring.

"Do they always look so scared?"

You laughed. "No that's just the Jack Abbot effect."

His brows scrunched together, the small wrinkles around his eyes becoming more prominent. "Is that some inside joke?"

You looked over the top of your laptop at him. "No, baby, it means you scare them."

He blinked through his shock. "I'm not scary."

He was right. He wasn't scary but he was their parents age and while you knew better to than to say that outright, you couldn't help but gently remind him why they viewed you differently than they viewed him.

"You're not, you're kind, but you scare them like a parent or someone in charge."

"Scared of me? I save lives for a living. I'm not scary."

"Well if this is how they react when you're just looking at them I can't imagine how they'd react if you actually reprimanded them."

"I do yoga and help out on the peds floor." He argued. "I'm a gentle soul."

You took your eyes off your emails to look at him once again. "You never told me that you were helping out in peds."

He gave a small shrug. "Yeah, I figured it was time to pivot to something a little less chaotic."

"And you're happy doing that?" you asked, feeling like you were testing your luck. "Like you're content with that?"

It was a choice he made following the shootout that involved two officers. Neither survived and after sitting down with the wives of those officers and breaking the news to them Jack made the executive call to limit his volunteer work for the time being.

"Yeah the kids up there happen to think that my robot leg makes me cool."

You tried to hide your smile behind your computer screen. "Maybe you should tell that to those three and see if they agree."

"Why do i feel like they'd make pirate jokes?"

"Because they're teenage girls and teenage girls are vicious."

"Were you like that at their age?"

"No I was nose deep in the encyclopedia set that I forced my parents to spend a paycheck on and when I wasn't doing that I was digging in the backyard looking for rocks."

"At 17?" he asked with wide eyes. "Yeah, I would've bullied you."

Your jaw dropped slightly and you nudged his good leg with your foot. "If you think pirate jokes are bad wait to see what I'll cook up for you with that attitude."

"Bring it." he smiled. "I got a whole peds ward on my side and trust me, they look like they bite."

part four

[wordssforworldss]

All Tied Up II: Jack Abbot

jack abbot x reader, word count: 2.3k part one trigger warnings: angst, references to assault, and talk about deceased loved ones

Through blurry vision and a stuffy nose Jack guided you back to your room where your bed was still untouched. Large pillows covered the headboard and there were more blankets than necessary for the weather both outside and in your apartment. It was something that drove Jack up the wall but it made you happy and deep down seeing you wrapped up in your blanket cocoon made him happy as well. 

Most of your belongings were things that brought you joy. There were a few stray stuffed plushies on your windowsill and all of your kitchen appliances were the same shade. Your bathroom was home to the softest of towels and bathmats and products that were overpriced but made you feel well cared for.

You were someone who prioritized peace in your life. Everything you did was done in an attempt to make life easier because that's how it should be. Life was meant to be enjoyed and that's how you ended up in a tiny one bedroom with a job baking. 

That wasn't always your outlook. You used to work yourself to the bone, juggling school and two jobs and that allowed you to have a large savings but it burnt you out. You were in your mid twenties and life had felt like it was dragging you down. But it wasn't anymore. Or at least it wasn't supposed to. 

You had it all. The apartment, the job, the friends, the boyfriend. That should have been enough to bring you back down to earth but it wasn’t and as Jack sat you on the edge of the bed you felt like everything you worked so hard to build was crumbling. It was crumbling because your apartment—your sanctuary, was no longer doing enough to calm you down all because you made one critically bad choice. You picked a fight with a man who was irrationally calm and who could read people better than most. He knew exactly what you were doing when you continued to harp on him about his volunteer work with SWAT.

He knew you were projecting and when you changed the topic to your age gap he knew that you were simply throwing things to the wall and hoping something else would stick. 

“You're sleep deprived.” He walked over to your bathroom and started to peel off his scrubs. You had a strict no scrubs near your bed rule and even in anger or frustration muscle memory kicked in. 

“I slept.”

When he returned to your side he grabbed your pajamas that were tucked under your pillow and placed them beside you. “No you fell asleep on a couch and that doesn’t count.” His hands went to your waist, tugging lightly at the material in an attempt to get you out of the clothes that had been on your body for far too long. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

You clamped down on his hands, stopping him. Confusion crossed his face as you tensed at his touch. He had undressed you in that matter countless times. It was usually after a night of drinking too much wine but one time it happened after you had caught the stomach flu and could barely get off the bathroom floor. He came home from his shift only to clock into being your personal nurse.

You immediately released his hands and apologized for the harshness of your action. “Sorry.”

“Take a second,” he said as he lifted his hand to push your hair behind your ear. “Breathe and we can take this from the top.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

His voice was low. “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes were focused on your lap. “For saying what I said and for making you take care of me like some child.” 

“Well nothing you said was out of line and I’m taking care of you because you’re mine to take care of.” His lips pressed against your head before he gently slid your shirt off your body.

There was nothing sexy about how he had taken off your clothes and replaced them with one of his large tee shirts. It was procedural. Like you were a patient that he was treating. 

“I don’t like the hospital and I should’ve told you that when we started dating,” you said as you turned to face him. “I really should’ve told you.”

“Well my hope is that you never need to be in my emergency room again,”

“I’m also sorry that I was so short with Dana.”

“Dana is a big girl, she’s fine.” 

He rested himself against your mountain of pillows and said, “I’m sorry that you had to relive something because of me and I'm sorry I didn't call you after Officer Hiro was stable to let you know where I was.”

“But you're not sorry for picking SWAT as your volunteer placement.”

“Let's not talk about that right now.”

“I said a lot to you Jack,” you whispered as he pulled the covers over your bodies. “But I meant it when I said I worry that you’re being too careless with your life.”

“You're right that I care more about other people than myself sometimes and one of those moments is right now. You're not okay.”

“Jack.”

“You flinched when I touched you.”

He was trained to not jump to conclusions. He knew better than to assume but in the moment his mind was filled with a million possibilities of what could have happened to the woman he loved. 

He had seen every inch of your body. He knew about the scar on your forehead from where you fell as a child, the mole on your collar bone and his hands were more than familiar with the scar that ran across your hip. There wasn't a part of your being that he hadn't committed to memory. 

Sometimes he’d just watch you as you moved around your apartment tidying up the space or rather making a mess as you recipe tested. When you finally started coming to his apartment you added some life to the dull space. His couch was now home to multiple blankets and his bed now had more pillows than yours did. And his kitchen that usually was only used to meal prep now had a sourdough starter that you taught him to care for.

“I only did that because with all the hospital talk all I could picture was the doctor who examined me after I was roofied.”

Drinks being spiked wasn't a new topic of discussion. He lectured you about turning your back on your drink during one of your nights out together. Only when you told him that you were more than familiar with what it felt like to be roofied did he stop the information dump. He didn’t push you to expand or explain how you knew. He simply waited for you to tell your story and you never did. Even now he knew he wasn't going to get a full picture.

It was sort of how he was with his time in the military. He’d dropped small pieces of his life story like breadcrumbs and you’d piece together his story on your own because you knew that if he wanted to talk about his leg that he would.

The two of you existed in similar ways and you appeared to know each other so well when in reality you were really only scraping the surface. 

“I didn’t mean to send you back to that time in your life and I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you don’t have to go down there again.”

“You can confidently say that nothing like that will happen to you again?

His hand ran across his jaw, scratching at the scruff he had been meaning to shave. He had no intention of getting shot at again, but he also had no intention of stopping his volunteer work. And being a SWAT medic meant that anything was possible.

“Jack,” you said, pushing him for an answer you already had. “You can be honest with me. I’m not a doll that's gonna break.”

He stared down into your eyes. “Then no, baby, I can’t promise you that but I’m sure between the two of us there's a compromise somewhere in this.”

***

Your therapist hadn’t heard from you in over a year. You had taken a pause from unpacking your past and preparing for the future and you intended to start up again but life got in the way. The cafe grew, you met Jack, and then you got so caught up in the good that you forgot to make the good great. So there you were. In a pale office with neutral furniture and artwork that made Jack's apartment look avant-garde 

“I’m glad to see you back here.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it's nice to see you again.”

“But you’re not glad to be back, are you?”

She's not wasting any time, you thought.

“No, I just think that being back means that I've finally realized that I don't know as much as I thought I did.”

“I think that goes for all of us, wouldn't you say?”

“You sound like my boyfriend.” You scoffed. “Or should I say my boyfriend sounds like you.”

“And how is that?”

“He’s very good at putting a spin on things and not in a manipulative way but in a calm and rational way that makes you reassess everything. But then afterwards you start to feel like you're blowing things out of proportion because he’s always so leveled out.”

“You werent seeing him the last time we spoke, were you?"

"No, it's only been a few months but I've known him for almost a year. He’s a doctor down in the emergency department at PTMC.”

"And how does it feel to be in a relationship this time around?"

Your previous boyfriend was a pretentious douchebag who thought that his degrees made him superior to every single person he met on the street. You had more compassion in your pinky than he would ever have in his bleak life.

He was liked by your parents but not by any of your friends. That was the first warning sign that he wasn't the one for you. The second was the way he'd make you feel guilty anytime he wanted sex and you didn't. The final straw was how he spoke about you to his coworkers. He made it seem like you were something to be ashamed of.

"She's not really working at the moment, she's just got her little bakery thing."

Your little bakery thing had become larger than you could've imagined. You were making goods for the cafe and a bed and breakfast along with running your own business on the side. You were doing more business than anyone expected and as low as your self esteem had dipped while dating that man, you knew better than to stick beside someone who didn't respect you.

Jack was nothing like him. You caught yourself minimizing your work anytime it came up in conversation, especially since he was quite literally saving lives and he always stopped you before you could talk down about how useless your degrees had become.

And when he introduced you to the guys from the SWAT team at a recent barbeque he wouldn't shut up about how incredible you were in the kitchen and how you were the most knowledge person he knew. Jack talked about you like you were the impressive one in the relationship.

"It's really good, but I can't help but pick apart the things that I can't change and I know that he's gonna get sick of my antics if I keep it up."

"What do you think youre picking apart?"

"He volunteers as a SWAT medic and he got shot at two weeks ago and then I had to go to the hospital and god knows I don't do well in those so I ended up spiralling because I don't want a repeat of that. I don't want to go back to the hospital for my own sake but also I don't wanna go back because the man I love is on his deathbed because he can't stop risking his life for others."

"That sounds like a lot," she said as she adjusted the notebook in her lap. "How did you discuss that?"

"I threw it all in his face like an asshole and he just let me and that made everything worse because then I felt like a petulant child." Your words not his. "And I know it was wrong and I apologized for that tenfold but deep down I feel like I had every right to call him out of his reckless behavior. He willingly puts himself in harm's way and shrugs it off."

"And I know you've taught me to not try and fix everyone but I love him and I don't want to lose him but he won't budge on this. He won't give up this and if I made him give it up he'd probably resent me."

"You're completely right. You can't make people do something they don't want to do but you have choices. You aren't helpless, remember that,"

"What choices? Breaking up with him? Becoming numb to the idea of him getting hurt?"

"How did it make you feel to hear he was hurt?"

"Like I made a mistake," you said as you brushed the sleeve of your hoodie under your eyes. "Like i should have never suggested that he join that team in the first place."

"But he made the final choice to join," she said, reminding you. "He's an adult with his own choices too."

“How do you live with the choice someone else is making?”

***

Jack had a standing therapy appointment. It was every Thursday at 11am and he hadn't missed a week since Pittfest. Usually he spoke about the tough cases and how he tried to separate work from the rest of his day, but suddenly he had found himself discussing you. 

Well it didn't start that way. He never intended to make you a topic of conversation with Dr. Oliver but as the five year mark of his wife's passing came up he felt like it was wrong to not acknowledge the changes in his life. He also caught the looks that she was giving at his ring finger where he no longer was wearing his previous wedding band. 

“You know she’s stubborn like Mary was,” he said while running his hands down the front of his jeans. “But she’s also usually right and that makes it really hard to stand across from her in an argument.”

“Do you guys argue a lot?”

“No but recently we had a pretty big disagreement and she says everything is fine, but I'm not an idiot.”

“What was it about?”

“I was out with the SWAT guys and one of my guys got shot and she couldn't reach me," he explained. "She ended up having to come down to get a hold of me and when she found out I had gotten grazed by a bullet it got worse.”

Dr. Oliver took a moment before saying, “That sounds like a lot.”

“Yeah and she hates the emergency department so that was just a whole mess but I should’ve called her back or sent her a message and I know I was wrong but now she wants me to step back from the position.”

“And you don't want to?”

“No, I like volunteering with them.”

“Why?”

It was different than being in the Pitt, handling late night chaos with Shen and Ellis. Working with the SWAT team made him feel like he was back doing what he was good at. He felt like he was back to being a combat medic.

“Because I'm doing good.”

Dr. Oliver tapped her hand against her leg. “Would you say you already do good during your actual job?”

“Yeah, but it's different.”

“How?”

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You sound like her right now.”

“Well? How is it different?”

“It's different because I would've kept doing good as a combat medic if my leg didn't get blown off,” he said, “and I feel like I’m back doing the good I was doing before that happened.”

“And why do you think your partner has a problem with you doing that?”

“Because she doesn’t want to watch me lose my life and there's always gonna be a chance of that if I’m doing this.” He tossed his head back, focusing on the ceiling tile above him. “She thinks I'm being reckless and that I don't care about my own life as much as I care about other people's.”

That was also a topic that was more than common within Dr. Oliver's office. She had always stayed on top of his behaviors–making sure he was aware of just how his actions impacted not only others but himself. And on more than one occasion she challenged him to take a good look in the mirror and ask if the good he was doing for others was cancelled out by the harm he was doing to himself.

 “And you say she reminds you of Mary?”

Jack closed his eyes, fighting the emotions he usually pushed down. “Yeah.”

“And how long have you been seeing her?”

His shoulders moved up slightly, shrugging it off. “Only a few months.”

“But?”

“But what?” he asked.

“You tell me. You're the one who looked like they had more to say.”

Talking about Mary was no longer tormenting. It no longer caused his chest to tighten and his knuckles to go white. He no longer felt angry at the world for taking away his wife before they could have a family together. It took a while to go to that point, but for some reason, right now, he felt like he was slicing open his previously closed wound.

“It's different than it was with Mary and I’m glad it is because I'm not trying to replace my wife, but it's different and I think if maybe she was Mary that we wouldn't be having this disagreement."

“Why do you say that?”

“Mary would've just stayed quiet and let me do what I wanted because she knew if I was doing something that I was doing it because I needed it.”

“Are you saying this woman doesn't know what you need?”

“No, I'm saying she knows what I need more than Mary did and that makes me feel guilty because I loved Mary and I wouldn't trade those ten years we spent together for anything but she's right. I’m being risky and I have no good reason for that. Not when I got someone waiting for me at home who loves me as much as I love them.”

“So I’m sitting here feeling like an awful widower because I feel like I met someone who might be able to see through me enough to stop me from being an absolute moron because that's how I was used to acting before she came along.”

Dr. Oliver took a deep breath and said, “Grief is a fickle thing Jack.”

part 3

[ohliooh]

“My wife tried to divorce me—“

Try again Abby, I believe in you.

[bmyval3ntine]

i miss black shirt w/ camo pants jack abbot like my wife i keep a photo of in a locket while i’m off at war…

[wordssforworldss]

All Tied Up: Jack Abbot

jack abbot x reader, word count: 5.5k part two admittedly fairly ansty

It didn't take a rocket scientist to recognize that Jack Abbot was a master of avoidance. He filled dark nights with chaotic shifts in the emergency department and sunny days were spent falling in and out of sleep with the hum of a police scanner echoing through his apartment. When neither of those things were enough he found himself volunteering with the local police department as a SWAT physician.

You thought the risk of being shot at would be enough to stop him in his tracks but it wasn't. It never was and after his first few weeks on the force you started to worry that maybe the risk was what kept him coming back.

But then there would be moments where you could tell that somewhere, deep down, he also craved peace. The way his shoulders would finally un-tense after you walked through the door. The way you'd catch his smile whenever you mumbled yourself through household tasks. It was the way silence became acceptable when you were beside him.

It was the same for you. You were used to the hustle and bustle of early mornings. You were the early morning baker for a local cafe and bed and breakfast so when you first met Jack you thought he was just another early riser with a caffeine addiction. A one off customer. It took two months before you started to think he was more. A regular. And then a friend. When you agreed to meet him after both of your shifts ended you never imagined that behind his kind eyes and soft smirk was a death wish.

You liked to think that you would've passed him up on his offer to get to know each other if you knew that but you knew that was untrue. You loved to fix things. Unfortunately so did he and you imagined that was what he was doing when he didn't text you back.

It was the fourth of July. It was bound to be a busy day but not busy enough for him to become MIA.

But time kept passing. Minute by minute. Then hour by hour. It wasn't like him. Not recently at least. You had forced him to become a stronger communicator, pushed him to use the cellphone in his pocket for more than emergencies. He claimed it was just a product of your generation. You told him that if he didn't want to get with the times he could date someone else.

"No, let's not do that," he said while grabbing your waist and pulling you a step closer. "I'll be better about it, okay?"

And he had been, which is why you were becoming more and more worried the longer you waited by your phone.

Soon enough it was 2pm and not a single text or call had been shared since you let him know that you had gotten to the bakery safely. That was at 4am.

2:15 pm

2:22 pm

2:29 pm

The ac unit in Jack's apartment was stronger than yours. It was keeping the space a brisk 67 degrees but the cool air wasn't enough to stop your skin from pricking. You flipped your phone over, slamming it face down onto the couch beneath you, fighting the urge to check the time again.

You weren't a hoverer. You didn't pry. You never worried. Not once during the three months of your relationship did you ever call the hospital to get a hold of him. Not even when he'd suddenly work an unscheduled double. Not even when he'd randomly leave your bed in the middle of the day to help the ED after a pile up on 79. You didn't even go to the emergency room after a gnarly burn to your hand while taking a cheesecake out of the oven. You didn't interfere with his job because Jack Abbot was a grown man. He was a grown man and he knew how to care for himself but none of that was changing the fact that he should've been home by now.

He's gonna hate me for calling, you thought. He's gonna mock me for being a worry wort and I'll never live this down.

A few more minutes passed before you grew tired of being anxious.

"PTMC emergency department, this is Dana."

The voice was rough and you immediately regretted your decision. You were calling an emergency department, interrupting their most likely horrible day.

"Hi, I was hoping you could tell me if Dr. Jack Abbot is there? I haven't been able to get a hold of him and wanted to know if maybe he wandered in on his day off."

Dana could tell by the soft tone that you must've been the reason why the night shift attending had suddenly spent less time on the roof and more time dropping pastries in the staff lounge.

She dropped her weight down onto the desk and asked, "And who might I be speaking to?"

"His girlfriend."

"Oh well, honey, you should've started with that," she laughed while looking around for him. "He came in earlier with his partner after a shoot out but he's fine. Just picking up some of the slack around here."

"Shoot out?"

It wasn't far-fetched to imagine that he could end up in life or death situations while working with SWAT but you had pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You tucked those intrusions so far back that you were choosing to live in ignorant bliss. In your mind he was the guy who patched everyone up, not the one who needed patching.

"Listen, it's busy but why don't you stop in and drag him home. He could use the excuse to leave."

You had never met any of his coworkers. You heard things about Robby and Shen and the occasional patient horror story. There were just no faces to go with the names. But the image of him dodging fire was enough to spring you from the couch and towards the front door of the apartment.

As your hand touched the cool metal of the door handle, you paused. You didn't want to step foot in an emergency department that was full of sickness and reminders of your past. “Are you sure that's a good idea? I don't want to interfere with the work he's doing.”

“He’s doing too much work. Come get him.”

Dana’s words carried you uphill towards the emergency room. It was a short walk but you managed to make it even shorter. Your legs burned from the pace you set for yourself but none of that mattered because the second you stepped inside PTMC your heart rate picked up.

The waiting room was slammed, every chair filled and every corner home to a body leaning against the wall. The heat outside was nothing like the heat of being squeezed into a small room with strangers.

You waited patiently to approach the glass but before you could even explain yourself someone was beside you. 

“You must be here for Dr. Abbot.”

“Yes, I spoke to Nurse Dana on the phone, she told me to come in. Is that you?”

“No, I’m Princess, but I’ll bring you back so you can get grumpy out of here.” 

She led you towards the nurses station where a large whiteboard was planted. 

“Grumpy?” you asked with a smile. It was funny to hear someone else comment on the state of his mood. Normally you would just laugh to yourself about how brooding he could be after his shifts ended. 

“Is he not grumpy to you?” she asked. You scanned the information on the large board before taking a look at the hoard of residents furiously charting.

“I plead the fifth.”

It doesn't take long for everyone to notice your presence. You're the only person at the nurses station not wearing scrubs and you clearly look overwhelmed by your surroundings. Your arms are tightly crossed over your chest and you’re slowly sinking further and further into the rolling chair as you try to avoid wandering eyes and glimpses of blood. 

The kitchen isn’t exactly a comparable work environment. The worst thing that happens there is a small oven fire or a broken coffee mug. One time a customer had an allergic reaction but that was the extent of your troubles.

“You alright there?”

“Me?” You straighten up, feeling like you've been caught slouching by your mother. “Yes of course.”

“You must be the missus.”

Your hand extended to the woman in front of you in an effort to distract from how childlike you look among all of the doctors and nurses. The only person making you look less out of place is a frazzled girl with a zip up and multicolored earrings.

“You know, we had a feeling Jack had a girlfriend. I just didn't know when you'd show your face.”

“Trust me–," your eyes landed on the police officer picking up sealed packages from another nurse, "—I wouldn't have if you didn't say shootout.”

“Well he's helping get a patient up to surgery but he’ll be back and then you can take him off our hands.” 

When Dana left you at the nurses station you found yourself taking in what it meant to exist in the pitt. You hadn't been inside an emergency department since college and truthfully those twenty eight hours you spent camped out in a bed were enough for a lifetime. Every time you glanced over to a patient room you were transported back to the scratchy hospital gown, the long list of questions and the incessant beeping of the monitors.

At that point you decided it was best to keep your head down and your eyes forced on the same tile in front of you, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the elephant in the room. Mainly because you were now the elephant. Everyone was staring because they knew you were waiting for Jack Abbot. Veteran. Attending physician. SWAT team medic. That Jack Abbot. 

And then there was you. A younger girl wearing short shorts and a tank top that did nothing to cover her up. A girl with useless college degrees and a full time job as an overworked and underpaid baker. Next to him you stuck out like a sore thumb and everyone in the pitt knew that. Nobody would ever bring themselves to say those words out loud but their eyes said it all. 

They had no clue why you were with him or why he was with you. 

“That’s Abbot’s girl.”

“Since when did he have a kid?”

“No, no,” someone said with a laugh. “Think again.”

“Oh that’s messy.”

You wanted to snap. You wanted anger to bubble so close to the surface that it would simply just pop out of you but you couldn’t allow that because they were right. Your relationship was messy. Not in the sense that you two fought or clashed, but in the way that neither of you truly brought the other into your worlds. He clearly didn’t tell his coworkers that his girlfriend existed let alone was fifteen years younger.

You moved your purse from your lap to your shoulder and stood up. Dana was quick to notice and stepped in your path. 

“You know, it’s incredibly busy down here and he loves his job so I don't wanna cut into the good he’s doing.” You took a step to the side. “And you said he’s fine so there's no reason for me to be here.”

“Well hun, m’sure he’d love to see you after the day he’s had. Why don't you stay? I’ll grab you a coffee.”

“It’ll be like I wasn’t even here.” You shook your head, trying your best to stand your ground. “It was great meeting you though.”

“Five minutes.”

“I should get home before the people partying get too drunk and hit the roads.”

You didn’t bother exiting through the waiting room. You made a b line for the large sliding doors that you once stared at hoping to see Jack. Now you wanted nothing more than to get back to your place where you could have all of your emotions out in the open where nobody could see them.

Her hands lifted, hovering just in front of your shoulders as she doubled down. “Wait for Jack, I’m sure he’d feel better knowing you didn't go home alone.”

“Dana, I can tell you’re good at reading people so I know that you know why I’m getting out of here.”

“And I can tell you're gonna worry about him until you see he's in one piece so please.”

Whatever worry once existed in your mind was gone and now new ruminations circled your brain that made you nearly forget why you were at PTMC in the first place. “It was lovely meeting you Dana.”

“If I was him I’d want to see you.”

You scoffed. “Tell that to the fact that he was in a shootout and didn't think to text me.”

It was for the best that you didn’t know that Jack had his phone in his hand to help Samira order an uber to her patient's house. 

He could’ve seen the missed texts or calls. He probably would’ve but he wasn't in the right headspace. Even if he wanted to pretend that it was an average Tuesday he knew it wasn’t. He had taken fire. He had bled. He had watched his partner's life fade from his eyes and then he took turns playing god in trauma 1 with Robby and Santos. But instead of sitting in his feelings he found himself hopping onto a case and escorting a patient to Presby while his cellphone sat untouched and on DND in his pocket. 

So when he caught a glimpse of you walking through the sliding doors to the ambulance bay followed by Dana he thought he was hallucinating—a product of trauma and sleep deprivation.

It wasn’t until he saw the charms swinging off the side of your comically small bag that he knew it was you. In the flesh. 

“Just the man we were looking for,” she said, pulling everyone’s attention towards you. “Next time you stick around to help out, maybe check your phone so this lovely lady doesn't think the worst.”

“It’s fine,” you said while sticking out your hands and waving off her words. “I just got worried but clearly you're okay so no big deal.”

“Maybe if you count getting grazed by a bullet to be nothing,” someone joked as a patient was wheeled by you.

Grazed by a bullet.

Jack stepped forward, immediately trying to intercept what he expected to be your reaction. “It barely scraped me, I promise I'm okay.” His hands rubbed against your upper arms, trying to soothe you. 

“Good,” you said with a forced smile. “You can tell me about it after your shift in the morning.”

“No, no, I’m finished up here, Robby can handle it.”

Grazed by a bullet. Somewhere under his clothing there was a bandage because he was shot at. He had taken fire because of a job he volunteered to do. A job he willingly showed up to on his days off.

“That’s what I tried telling her.”

You hadn't realized that Dana was still outside with you but even after turning to look at her once more you decided to double down on your previous decision. 

“You have like three hours before you need to be back here. Get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning.”

“You don't look okay. My sleep can wait.”

Of course you weren't okay. He had gotten shot at and didn't think to tell you. Would he have even said anything or would you have only noticed it the next time you watched him peel off his clothes after a shift. 

For a moment you thought you were irrationally spiraling and that the man in front of you didn't deserve the flack you were giving him. But then you remembered that this wasn’t a one off incident. This was an ever growing part of the man you had loved. His need to occupy every waking second with chaos, even if it put his life in danger, was becoming larger by the day because god forbid he could sit with his feelings. 

You almost understood what that felt like as you pressed a kiss against his stubble, getting ready to escape all your feelings by trekking across town to your apartment during a heat wave.

“I'll see you in the morning.” You pulled back and tossed a glance in Dana’s direction. “Take care of him, will you?”

There was no room for negotiations as you turned on your heel and began your journey home. 

It was a similar route to the one you used to take from campus to your first ever big girl apartment. You had lived on campus for all four years of undergrad and while you enjoyed the comradery of living with your peers, you wanted a change. It was only when you enrolled in your PhD program that you figured you deserved to finally feel like an adult even if you were barely one. There was a heatwave that first summer. It was bad enough that there was a city wide power surge. That of course fried your portable AC and left you to seek refuge in a local cafe. 

So much had changed since that day. Your degree was now hung up in a frame on the wall of a much nicer apartment but you no longer spent hours in a library absorbing information until your brain felt like mush. You didn't find yourself arguing with your cohort over the morality of using artificial intelligence. Now you wasted your evenings walking across town wondering if it was too late to go back in time and make different choices. 

No apartment meant no broken ac which meant no cafe. No cafe meant no job which of course meant not meeting Jack Abbot the morning after the Pitt Fest shooting as he teetered on the brink of exhaustion and death. And no Jack Abbot meant no longer worrying about a man who didn't seem to worry about himself.

But no jack abbot meant no more days spent in his bedroom with the blackout curtains drawn so that the two of you could forget what time it was. No Jack Abbot meant no more feeding the cats outside your apartment building as he pestered you about the risk of cat scratch fever or rabies. More than anything, no more Jack Abbot meant no more knowing what it meant to love someone so much that the thought of losing him made your heat exhaustion feel like a low grade fever.

It was somewhere between a mile and a mile and half away from your apartment that you knew for certain that you had made a mistake both physically and emotionally. The sun was still high in the sky and you hadn’t taken your usual mid day nap. Your feet were tired and your clothing felt like it was sticking to you. Every few steps you tugged at the short denim, feeling like you were a large neon sign, drawing too much attention to your body.

On your final stretch you passed a tenth barbecue which, like the previous nine, did not bring up any childhood nostalgia. Instead it reminded you that the 4th of July was a stupid day. It mattered in terms of history. You knew that much, but the rest of it? The rest of it was stupid. The fireworks, the endless supplies of hot dogs, the pride people had in a country that sent young men and women to war only to not supply them with the help that they’d when they returned. 

You found yourself building up a whole lecture of why you had every right to hate the 4th of July but every time you got close enough to make your point the thoughts seemed to escape you. You were more or less running out of steam.

You were on your third attempt at bashing the government when you had reached your front door. That attempt reminded you that the man you left back at PTMC was one of those young men who didn’t get the help they needed when they returned from war. He was a high functioning member of society but he was on autopilot. And it felt wrong to resent someone who didn’t even realize that their actions were hurting anyone but themselves. 

Soon enough the clock struck midnight and it was no longer the fourth and when the waves of anger started to calm the sea of sadness started to overfill. Memories and flashes of the summer of '21 kept clouding your mind until finally you freed yourself of those chains and the only thing you were left with was how out of place you felt in his world. One visit to the pitt had shaken you up so badly that even all your rationalization couldn't break down the judgement you felt for dating a man who was so much older.

Your friends knew that Jack was in his 40s and a widower. They had met a few times during small dinner parties hosted in your apartment and on occasion you’d go on double dates with him and one of his buddies from SWAT. You never felt like you were hiding what you were but after seeing the way his staff looked at you, you began to wonder if you should have been. Was it so wrong to have found something in common with a man who had lived a whole other life before you realized what it meant to live?

It personally never bothered you up until then. Why would it have? He never made you feel like you were inferior or young and dumb. He treated you like an adult because you were one. You were an adult even if you felt like a helpless child.

***

A knock on your door startled you awake from your spot on the couch. You hadn't meant to fall asleep there but your legs couldn't carry you to your bed. 

You also worried that if you got into bed you wouldn’t get out until you had dug deep enough in your memory to fill in the gaps that existed in your mind since 2021.

As your feet dragged beneath you on your way to the door you braced for what was on the other side. Deep down you knew you’d come face to face with the same eyes that you walked away from less than 24hrs prior. 

“Was last night okay?” His lower body was no longer covered in his fatigues. Instead he was in his usual black scrubs and his backpack was tossed over his shoulder.

“I should be asking you that,” you said as you took a step back, allowing him to step inside. 

“You don’t do well with fireworks.”

You cracked a smile. “You say that like I’m a chihuahua.” 

He took his usual place at the kitchen island and dropped his bag at his feet. “Answer the question.”

“You’re the one who was shot at.” 

“They weren’t aiming at me.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” You shook your head at his lack of rationale. “You got shot at and didn’t tell me.”

“That’s what’s got you shaken up?” 

Of course it was. But it also wasn't.

“Yeah and the fact that your coworkers seemed to think I was your daughter not your girlfriend.” 

For some reason he found humor in your words. “I would’ve had to be a teen parent for that.” 

“Yeah well short shorts don’t make for great first impressions I guess.” 

“If it was one of the interns—” 

“You’ll what? Stick them on chairs?” Your voice raised slightly. “Jack, it's fine.” 

“It’s not fine if you’re upset.” 

“I’m upset because you don’t get it.” You stepped away from the front door and towards the couch that was across from him. “You don’t seem to recognize why it’s normal for me to be upset. You were shot at and you didn’t even think to tell me because to you a bullet wound is like a paper cut.” 

“You’re right.” He nodded. “I didn’t think to tell you and I can see why that feels how it does, but this seems like more than just you being mad at me for being spacey."

Your feet felt like concrete blocks, holding you still against your wood floors. You were stuck in this conversation whether or not you wanted to have it so you did what you did best. You threw it back on someone else. You tried to fix someone else.

“Do I need to worry about you Jack? Do I need to worry that my partner doesn’t view life and death situations the same way I do?” Your heart rate was starting to pick up as your brain reverted back to the previous day where you felt like everything was on the brink of doom. “Do I need to worry that you don’t value your own life as much as I value it? Cause I can want you to value it all I want but you have to want it.”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice steady. It was the opposite of yours that was filled with pain and anger. 

You had only ever argued twice. One was a stupid spat over you not getting your oil changed. The other was in regard to your work schedule. Jack thought you were overworking yourself for a career that you didn’t even want. That time you were in agreement but his commentary was unsolicited and frankly harsh. 

This time you wanted to avoid being harsh. You didn’t want to upset him because of your own upset but you needed him to know how you felt and as hard as it was to do what you did the day prior.

“Then why? Why do you keep putting yourself in these situations?”

“Because I need to feel like I’m doing good. That I’m making something better for someone or someplace. And I’m doing good. I’m saving lives.”

“At the risk of your own?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation. He answered you like he was agreeing to have salmon for dinner. 

“I just don’t know if I can handle that.”

He lifted himself from the chair and stepped towards you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you picked up working with SWAT for a hobby and to feel like you were doing more good in the community, but I don’t know if I can standby knowing that every time you pick up a shift with them that you might not come home. I don’t know if I can handle knowing that you would give your life for someone else’s. That’s selfish and I know it is, but I don’t want you to lose your life for someone else. I want you alive and in front of me.” Tears were threatening to fall but you refused to let your emotions take away from the fact that he was taking active risks that he didn’t need to take. “And I’m trying my hardest to be selfless, but it’s very hard to do that with the person you love.”

His calloused hands lifted to wipe away the tears that started to run down your cheeks. “Love, you don't need to worry about me.”

“Jack, you are one of the most caring people I know so why can't you put yourself in my shoes when I say I dont want to be called to the ER for you?”

“Because I can’t stop doing my job.”

“How would you feel if I used that useless degree to go over to dig sites in the middle east and actually do the research I planned on doing?” You pointed to your diploma and framed thesis. “How would that make you feel?”

“Like you and I both know you don't need to do that.”

You removed his hands from your body and took a step back. “And you don't need to be a part of the swat team.”

“But I do,” he said, “it is a part of who I am and if you can't take that then I don't know what to tell you.”

“Part of who I am is that I can't stand by and watch you as you play around with your life like you're a cat that has eight more lives on standby.”  You were circling the couch, creating space from him as you felt your emotions growing larger by the second. “And I know you’ve been worried about Robbie, but I’m worried about you because your flippant regard for your own safety is indicative of a much larger problem and I don't need a medical degree to recognize that. So either you start caring about yourself or I need to stop caring about you.”

“I don't know what to say to that because you agreed that I should start working with the SWAT team two months ago and now youre not okay with it?”

“I can't have a repeat of yesterday.”

“Are you seriously giving me an ultimatum?”

“No I’m letting you know that if this means as much to you as you say it does then I won't be the one to take it away from you,” you said as you stepped towards the front door. “But I won't let it take away from me and my sanity.” 

“I need you to trust me when I say I'm being safe and I'm going to be fine.”

“The same way you trust me to walk to work in the morning?” you asked which immediately caused his jaw to snap shut and the muscles in his face to tense. “Jack, I’m sorry but I can't do this.”

“Can we handle this like adults?”

“I came to you with my concerns and you refuse to change or even compromise so there's not much I can do but thank you for the timely low blow considering everything.”

He picked up his pack from the floor and tossed it over his shoulder. “Maybe I wouldn't have to say that if you didn’t nearly leave the pitt without speaking to me yesterday which forced this to become a childish two day long disagreement.” He didn't bother looking over at you as he headed for your door. 

You hadn't meant to turn it childish but you did blow it up in both of your faces. Even through your cloudy tears you could see that. You could see that by forgoing the true reason behind your upset that you were shoving a large wedge in between him and you.

“Because I don't fit in around your crowd. I don't do well with blood or death and I can't stand hospitals but I sat at the nurses station for half an hour dodging traumas and the stares of your nosey staff because I wanted to make sure you were okay. I am willing to be uncomfortable for you but I don't think I can handle another day like yesterday.”

He didn’t know that you could still feel the gown on your body every time you smelled antiseptic or that you could still remember how cold gloves were on the nurse's hands as she guided you through her exam. He had no clue what the emergency department meant to you but he didn’t have to because what he did know is that you had never had that look in your eyes. 

Even as you argued back and forth about the shootout you didn't look how you currently did. You looked like a shell of yourself as you spoke about how it felt to be in the emergency department. 

It was only then that he realized that your conversation was more than just a disagreement about the SWAT team. It was a jumble of issues all tied up in barbed wire and every time he knew that trying to unravel it all in the moment would just spill more blood.

His bag slowly slid down his arm till it was on the floor once again. “I get it," he said, "I can’t fix everything that you deemed wrong about yesterday but I am sorry for worrying you enough that you had to go down there.”

Your arms hugged around your chest as you tried to soothe yourself from the memories of an awful early morning in March. “I don't want to have to do that again.”

He wasted no time pulling you against his chest, letting your head rest against his heart. “Then we will make sure you don't have to, okay?”

And in that moment you chose to believe him. Even if you knew that the two of you were only digging at the surface of what needed to be handled. Because it was the summer in Pittsburgh and heatwaves were the least of the emergency departments worries.

part 2