Jack Abbot was a man of routine, calm precision and sharp witt — That's why he liked the night shift (yes, his therapist said it was because he liked the dark but he liked to argue). He would arrive a little early, parking his truck in the spot that everyone knew to be his, go to the locker room to drop off his bag and then get a cup of coffee before finding Robby for shift change and debrief.

Today is different however — Today, Robby seeks him out before he can even get into the locker room. There is blood on his gloves and arms and while he wears the calm expression only years and years as a doctor can teach you, Jack can still see the lines of panic and despair cracking through the carefully put-up wall. "Robby?" Jack frowns.

"Hey, man, you, uh—" Robby stammers, rocking back and forth on his heels. He cut himself off with an akward clear of his throat, pushing his glasses back on his nose with one finger "Have you checked your phone today?" he settles on after a brief moment of silence, eyes cast down to bloodied ends of his shoes.

Jack wordlessly shakes his head, lips formed into a tight line, eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Not really. Kiddo went straight to a friend's house after school and so I took the time to finally build that make up desk I'm gonna surprise her with." he explains, cocking his head to the side with a smile so font that it was solely reserved for his daughter. Normally, Jack kept his personal life as far away from the hospital as possible — especially his pride and joy, his daughter, that he vowed to protect and love with his entire being when she was still so tiny, she fit perfectly in the palms of his hands — but Robby was as much family as the cat, his daughter had once found wandering their street and took in without a second thought.

Robby humms, swallowing against the thick lump forming in his throat — He knew what desk Jack was talking about; had spend an hour and two panicked calls to Dana at a furniture store with Jack picking it out after Tiny Abbot had briefly mentioned that she was saving up for a new table.

Jack always prided himself with the fact that he'd raised his daughter to be independent — She rarely asked for anything. If she did it was mostly for school and even then he had to remind her time and time again that he was her dad and it was his job to provide for her. She worked three shifts a week at a cafe just down the street from where they lived, had gotten her lisence as soon as possible and had even bought her car on her own (although Jack had put double the amount in her bank account as soon as he'd found out and refused to take it back.)

Still, Jack was a doctor. He fixed peole, he took care of people and his daughter was no exception to that. So when she ran out of her (ridiculously expensive) skin-care, there was a new bottle sitting on the vanity the next day and when she got her period (especially during an endometriosis flare-up) she would find a hot water bottle, her favorite chocolate and pain medication waiting for her on her bedside within minutes and when she wanted a new table to get ready at he would buy the best one and set it up for her without losing a word over it.

"Jack, before I say anything else, I promise she is okay." Robby says calmly, his eyes wide with thinly veiled worry. Jack's jaw tenses in a split second, body rigid with a sudden paralysing fear "There was a crash—"

It's at that moment that Jack's world comes to a screeching halt before tilting on its' axis "Robby, she's all I have left." he says unnecessarily like if he could will her to be okay with the sheer force of his hope.

"I know." Robby nods — and he does. He knows, because everyone knows that after the death of his wife all Jack breathed and live for was his daughter. "She's okay. I swear. I took over her entire care. She has a broken leg, a minor concussion and lots of cuts and bruises but with lots of rest and care, she'll make a quick recovery." he explains. Jack is a doctor, but right now he is a dad first and so Robby explains it to him like he was just the parent of another patient.

Jack's jaw ticks and there is a faint tremor in his hand but Robby doesn't comment on it — He knows that after losing his wife, Jack was panicked if she as much as breathed wrong "She is awake." Robby continues "Dana's got her bundled up in the blanket you keep here for your naps and Langdon gave her his phone to rewatch New Girl. She is okay. We just couldn't reach you and I didn't want you to freak out when you see her name on the board."

Jack nods; an ever-growing motion "Okay, okay, okay... The leg. Is it a clean break? Did you do a head CT? Did any of her cuts get stitches?" he rambled, eyes narrowed and hands clasped together — the face of a doctor.

Robby shook his head, putting a firm hand on Jack's shoulder "Be her dad. Not her doctor."

Jack nodded wordlessly; the lines of being a dad and being a doctor blurred in front of his eyes — He treated car crash victims every single day. A broken leg and a concussion were trivial in comparison to the injuries he was used to treating but this was his daughter. His lifeline, his achilles' heel, his heart and soul and the idea of seeing her in a hospital bed had bile rising in his throat "Where is she?"

"Still in South 6, but Dana is trying to pull some strings to get in a room upstairs. You know how she got that woman wrapped around her finger." he explained, eyes crinkling at the corners as he gave Jack a tentative chuckle.

Jack huffed out a breathy laugh at that. Of course he knew — He knew because every morning when he came back from work he saw the growing stack of tupperware that he just kept adding onto everytime Dana held out a box with baked goods or a homecooked meal so the kiddo doesn't starve when he showed up for his shift. He knew because that one time she had a dance at school and he had tried (and miserably failed) to curl her hair, it had only taken a three-words message — Need help ASAP — for Dana to show up at their house with a bag of beauty products, some jewellery and a bottle of wine for which Jack had tried to tell her off but Dana had merely told him to pull the stick out of his ass. He knew because that one time he had a single mother come into the ER about to give birth, he had told her it takes a village and he had thought of Dana and Robby.

"She bled a lot." Robby continued "There was a gash on her face and you know how it is with head injuries... they just bleed an unnecessary amount." he huffed, starring down at his bloody gloves before pulling them off with a shake of his head. "She got all stitched up and Dana helped her get cleaned up."

Jack hummed, muscular arms crossed in front of a broad chest and head tilted upwards by an inch — He looked stern, disciplined and all like the doctor he was but Robby could see the way his eyes blinked furiously against the tears now brimming just beneath his waterline and the way his hand gripped his own bicep with a little too much force "Gonna put my bag away and then check up on her."

Robby nodded, putting one hand on Jack's shoulder, feeling the tense knots under his fingers "I'm taking over your shift tonight." he says simply. Jack openes his mouth to protest but Robby just shakes his head "This as much for you as it is for her. She still needs her dad every now and then, no matter how big and independent she gets."

Jack nodded jerkily — He rolled his shoulders one last time and then he was off; long, purposeful strides towards South 6, barely aware of the throbbing of his prosthesis or Robby following him a step behind. The curtains were pulled shut and for a moment Jack wondered if he hated or loved that he got a moment longer to collect himself; a moment longer to take a deep breath in and calm the trembling in his fingers.

She was propped up in the bed when he finally found the courage to step in — buried under the unfamiliar terror that had taken over all of his senses. Her left leg was in a cast and elevated, the army blanket he kept in his locker for the times he once again spend too much time at the hospital wrapped around her and the sweat jacket Robby always wore loosely hanging from her thin shoulders. Jack's entire body sagged at the sight of her.

Her eyes were half-lidded, focused on the phone in her hand but she looked up when he entered, "Dad..." she breathed shakily and for a moment she wasn't the sixteen years old that prepared breakfast for him after every shift and ducked away from even a pat on the back, but the tiny six years old that crawled into his bed every night, curling up on his chest because that was the place where she felt safest. There was a moment where just blinked at him blearily before a sudden wave of terror washed over her face, sitting up so fast Jack could only hope she didn't tear any of her stitches "Oh my god— dad! I'm so sorry! I was driving carefully and all, the man just ran the red light, the car is fucked but I'll pay for it, I swe—"

Jack didn't know if he wanted to laugh or sob. His daughter — his baby; the light of his life — could have gotten killed today; taken away from his side just like wife had been taken away from him and all she cared about was the car "Kiddo." he breathed "I couldn't give less of a fuck about the car right now. Are you okay?" he stressed, stumbling forward to cradle her thin face in between calloused hands.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. she nodded immediately "Robby took care of me, you don't need to worry."

Jack did laugh at that — a broken, wet chuckle "I always worry. I'm your dad, that's my job. I'm sorry if I didn't do a good job and if I made you feel as though you had to be independent because if there is one thing that will always be true it's that I will always be here to take care of you."

Don't worry my ass, he grumbled under his breath as he pulled up a chair with one hand while the other one fussed with the blanket wrapped around her "Are you warm enough? I can get you another blanket or I'll ask Dana to make you a hot water bottle, I'm sure we have one lying around. I can also get you more painkillers if it get's too bad, just tell me—"

"Dad." her voice cut through his rambling. His fingers stilled where they were uselessly pulling up the blanket again. "I'm okay." she smiled softly, one trembling hand lifting before she closed it into a fist, kissing the fist tenderly and then rubbing it against her sternum — Something her mom used to do when she was too sick to be visited and the only time they could see her was through a visiting window looking into her hospital room.

That means she loves you, Jack had explained to an actually tiny Tiny Abbot back then and three year old Tiny — bless her heart! — had mimicked her mommy's actions.

Jack swallowed harshly around the stubborn knot that had formed in his throat. He wanted to say so much; wanted to tell her how if she died he would go to the next bridge and jump, how he loved her so greatly and so fiercely he would've pried her out of her car with his bare hands and given her every organ she needed if that meant she was safe.

"I love you." he settled on instead, but Tiny smiled and Jack just knew she knew.