Dear Reader

If your life were to be a book, the first line would be: fuck my family.

You can only imagine the shocked and surprised faces of people who worship their families as they read your book. 

How dare you say such a thing about your family?

Because we have to respect our families, regardless, correct?

Fuck no. 

Using DNA just so it's a lame excuse for abusive behaviour?

Another fuck no.

Your older brothers were not kind people — they were messed up in the head, to no fault of anyone but themselves. And the reason for it? There simply isn’t one. 

It wasn’t until you grew older that you realised that what you had gone through was indeed abuse. Because a twelve-year-old getting hit by her brother was not ‘playing’ or ‘teasing’. An eight-year-old getting dragged by the hair across the floor was not because ‘your brother cannot control his anger’. It was simply abuse. 

And to make matters worse? They all work in health care. Care. They care for people when they cannot care for their own sibling. One of your brothers went through med school, pretending to care about patients when his own sister had a purple bruise around her beautiful, small eye.

You hid it well, the bruises and the burns, the heartache and the anxiety. You did so well. And you kept in touch with them, even after you all went your separate ways for a while, because you are their dolcezza, their sweetheart, the one that can never say no to them.

Until one day… you realised how fucked up they truly are. 

You sat at the table, surrounded by doctors, surgeons, nurses, pharmacists and hospital administrators. Today is a fundraising event, with hospitals from all over Pittsburgh attending to raise money for all sorts of charities. You wore a beautiful, sleeveless black satin dress, showing your beautiful skin. 

Now that you no longer have bruises to hide, you show as much skin as you want. 

Your brothers sat on the table, along with their dates. You came along as one of their plus ones — because, being the kind-hearted person you are, you wanted to support them.

Until your older brother took the stage and started his speech, talking about the charity he and his team will be fundraising for. 

It was for a charity, supporting children who had gone through abuse and neglect. 

Was this some sort of sick joke? Your stomach twists into a painful knot. 

And to make matters worse, he dedicated his speech to his dolcezza.

You.

The sweetheart of the family. 

Bile rises in your throat, and you can no longer hear the speech or see clearly. You lose all your senses, and you are convinced this is what death feels like. 

Slow. Painful. Nauseating. 

You kick your heels off, push off the chair and run out right in front of the entire hall that was now staring at the damsel in distress. 

Your brother, however, continues with his speech. Your other brothers, who sat at the table, are now planning revenge for why you did such an embarrassing thing. Their little perfect girl, running away like this?

You sprint down the empty hallway, looking for the bathroom. You needed to be sick. Needed to breathe. Wanted to die.

In a panic and a rush, you run straight into a man and knock him clean off his feet, and fall right on top of him. “I’m sorry” you cry out as you try to move off him, but the panic in your chest is making it impossible for you to stand straight “I’m so sorry!” You are convinced this man was going to drag you by your hair, slap you, even.

But instead he softly says, “Hey, that’s okay. It was an accident.”

You eventually manage to stand up, stumbling as if you are drunk. But you had nothing to drink. You don’t even offer to help him stand, but the man manages to get up on his own. “Do you need a hand?” He asks you.

You try and breathe but your lungs seem to have stopped working “Bathroom- I need - bathroom - i’ m gonna-“ you let out a gag and press a hand to your stomach. The man instantly grabs your arm gently to steady you and leads the way to the accessible bathroom.

Your mind convinces you that he is about to hurt you, hell even take advantage of you in the bathroom but he doesn’t do any of the sort. He pulls your hair back as you hug the toilet seat and vomit. One hand stays on your back, gently moving up and down your bare back, making soothing motions. “I’ll go get you some water, do you think you will be okay on your own for a while?”

“You don’t have to stay with me..” you say weakly, as you feel your the post adrenaline crash, “i’m really sorry about this.”

“You’re ill, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“I’m drunk and a mess.” You lie. It was much better to say, instead of having to explain why you’re in this bathroom, with a strange man, vomiting your guts out over your brother’s speech. But the man doesn’t think you are drunk. He’s well aware you’re having a panic attack. He leaves the bathroom for a few minutes and returns to find you sitting against the wall, with tears streaming down your face. Your mascara had run down your face, leaving long black streaks. You looked broken, and he wonders who broke you. “Here’s some water” he says gently as he lowers himself to the floor, “Would you like me to take you home?”

You look up at the man and instantly recognise him — it was Dr Abbot, the one who was speaking with your brothers at the welcome drinks. “I can manage.”

“No worries, I won’t push it.” He says softly, offering you a hand to help you stand. “Do you have your purse and phone?”

“No… no it’s back at the table. I uh…” You simply cannot go back into that room without having another panic attack. You need to be away from them, as far as possible. 

“I’ll grab it for you. Is it the gold purse you were carrying? You are sitting at table five?” Jack recognised who you are, the moment he saw you running down the hallway. Because when someone as beautiful and elegant as you are is in the same room as him, he remembers. “I’ll grab your heels too.”

“Mr Abbot? Sorry Dr-“

“It’s Jack.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“It’s what people do for each other, isn’t it?”

Kindness, such as this, was a stranger to you. 

He leaves you in the bathroom once again, and you manage to collect yourself, wash some of your makeup away and look somewhat presentable. He returns a few minutes later, helps you slip your heels back on, and hands you your things. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay getting home safely?”

“Actaully, can I take you up on that offer? If it’s not too much to ask?”

Jack instantly smiles, warm and kind. Growing up in an abusive household, you quickly learn people’s smiles, speech and body language. Because at any given moment, a punch can be thrown and you need to duck down. Some smiles can be deceptive and evil — but his smile isn’t. “Sure, but first, how do you feel about grabbing dinner with me? Pancake House is still open.”

“I would love that, Jack.”

Your quick dinner turned into a three-hour conversation with Jack. You learnt that he is an ER doctor who had met some of your brothers in passing, but was not close with them. “I’m not close with them, actually.” You lie, “We don’t speak. Tonight was a one-off.” 

Jack doesn’t question it further because families fall out and argue. Right?

He asks you some more questions about what you do and what you're interested in. He didn't want this to end; it was only when you rested your head on the booth and started to fall asleep that he suggested going home.

He wrapped his jacket around your bare shoulders and supported your sleepy body as he walked you out to his car. You fought sleep, not wanting to let go of this moment just yet.

“I really enjoyed tonight” You say quietly just as Jack pulls up outside your apartment. “Thank you for making me feel special.”

You don’t want this night to end, and neither does Jack. He hasn’t had this much fun in years, and the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies in his chest was a stranger. Until they appeared tonight, he was reminded of how much he missed this rush and excitement. “I would love to do it again sometime.” He murmurs softly, and you admire how good-looking he looks, sitting in the leather seat... his tux shirt is unbuttoned slightly... his curls slightly messy. 

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” You ask hesitatingly, leaning toward him slightly. 

“I do…” Jack murmurs, leaning toward you too, “I have a date with a hot girl.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you taking her?”

“Somewhere beautiful, but not as beautiful as her.” He leans in, hand gently tracing up your neck as he pulls you toward his lips. “I hope she says yes.”

You kiss him softly and slowly, and you feel safe and content. A feeling you never thought you’d ever, ever feel. “She says yes.”

“Good, that’s very good.” You feel him smile as he continues kissing you. “I can’t wait.”

The next morning, you woke up to hundreds of messages from your brothers asking where you were. They knew where you lived, and you feared that they would come knocking on your door. You texted back, apologising for your behaviour, and acted like the good girl they expect you to be. But little did they know that you handed in your tenancy notice that morning, asking to move out as soon as possible. 

That same day, Jack came over and took you on your first date. And since that day, you became inseparable and Jack never left your side.

It was like the universe had sent him your way.

You kept the peace with your brothers and came up with excuses for why you couldn’t see them.... until the day of your move-out. The day you collected keys to your brand new apartment, which is in Jack’s building, because he was the one who helped you find it and move. You changed your number, and so to them, you disappeared overnight without a trace.

That was the proudest moment of your life. 

Cutting off your fucked up family for good. 

They don’t deserve your love or attention. 

They don’t deserve to call you dolcezza. 

They deserve hell, today and every day for the rest of their earthly life and wherever they go after.

Jack on the other hand, was the only family you needed. It didn’t take long for the two of you to make your relationship official. His kindness and generosity were something you did not know existed. But every day, he surprised you further. You couldn’t help but fall in love with him, and he was the only one you saw in your future.

However… you were carrying a heavy secret that you didn’t know if you could ever share with him. You buried this secret 10 feet underground and never imagined it would ever resurface within seconds. 

All it took is a simple text message to send your world spiralling. 

A simple message, asking how you were, and inviting you over for a family dinner. 

Two years of no contact. Where the hell did they find your number?

Two years of disappearance. Do they know where you live?

Two years of peace and love. From Jack and only Jack. You live with Jack now, so surely they can’t hurt you?

It took two seconds for them to ruin the peaceful life you have carefully created for yourself. 

⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆

It was evening time, and Jack was expected to come back anytime. The text message had sent you spiralling all day, choking you slowly and painfully. You broke one wine glass and two dishes as you attempted to make dinner, and you cleaned up any evidence of what you had done.

Because the mindset you have worked so hard to forget and overcome has now taken over your mind overnight.

Broken dishes often meant broken fingers. Or broken noses. Or broken hearts. 

You don’t hear the door open or close as you stare at the water that is boiling and splattering all over the hob. You can hear yelling and awful cries — but was it coming from your apartment?

It was the gentle touch on your back that sent you into a panic. You spun around quickly, arms coming up instinctively to cover your face, anticipating five fingers. But your heart stopped your arms from shielding your face, because it was Jack who was standing in front of you. And there was no yelling or crying. 

“Baby, are you okay?” Jack frowns at your reaction; you are never this jumpy. There is a look of fear in your eyes that he has never seen before. 

“Yes sorry, all good!” you force a smile and hug him tightly, “it’s been a bad day.”

He embraces yor hug, pulling you against him tightly, “wanna talk about it?”

“Oh no it’s fine, it’s just one of them days.” You say quietly, feeling the panic ease, knowing that you are safe in his arms, “was work okay?”

“It was bad; all I wanted was to come home to you. So I’m better now.” He murmurs in your ear, “How about I continue dinner?”

“You’ve had a long shift — go freshen up i’ll do it.”

“If you’re sure baby” he pulls back, arms gently trace up your body, cupping your face, “I want to quit my job… and do nothing but be here with you… kiss you and love you all day. I hate work.”

“That would be the dream” you tilt your head playfully, “but you have an expensive lifestyle that you need to maintain”

He tips his head back and laughs, and you join him too. But you’re quickly reminded that this lifestyle you’ve curated might not be this peaceful forever. 

Every morning since you received the text message, you woke up after not having much sleep and you checked your phone, clicking on your brother’s number and text messages. It wasn’t the oldest brother who had messaged — it was actually another brother who ‘was not that bad’, when it came to abusing you. You haven’t replied and haven’t blocked his number either. You had so much you wanted to say to him, so much anger that needed to be let out.

But for now, you clicked the phone shut and turned over to Jack, who was still fast asleep. A few minutes later, his alarm goes off, and you quickly jump over him in an attempt to turn it off so he can have a lie-in. It was his day off, so why the hell does he need to be up at 7 a.m.?

As you move over, you knock his phone over along with a glass of water that tips over, splashing all over his phone, which now sits on the bedroom floor. Tangled in the sheets and full of panic, you try and move over but you end up falling to the floor too. You try not to let out a sound, but Jack hears a loud thud and jolts wide awake.

You broke your brother’s phone once when you were seventeen. No amount of ice packs brought down the swelling on your cheeks and you never made it to school that day. 

Your mind reminded you that you don’t have ice packs in this apartment.

“I’m sorry!” you cry out once you see Jack awake. “I’m so sorry; I’ll fix it!”

“Sweeth-“ Jack stops himself. You had asked him once not to call you sweetheart or honey, because the nickname made you cringe. Dolcezza meant sweetness, and you hated the nickname. But Jack didn’t know why you hated it. 

You pick up his phone and walk away from the bed, “i’m so sorry Jack I promise it was an aciddent and-“

“Baby, can you calm down, what even happened!” Jack flicks the sheets off him, but he can’t reach his crutches and can’t get to you. 

“It was an accident I knocked it over and then it fell and I fell and-“

“Baby slow down and come back here, you’re not making sense” he says softly. “Please, just- can you grab me my crutches?”

You shake your head, standing in the corner of the room, hot tears running down your cheeks, “Please don’t be angry”

“I would never be angry with you! Can you just tell me what happened?”

“I broke your phone, and then water fell on it.” 

“And you fell? Did you hurt yourself?”

A little voice in your head whispers, “Dolcezza, did you hurt yourself? The answer is always yes. You tell them you’re clumsy and the bruise is from playing football with your brothers.”

You shake your head, trying to shake the voice out, “i’m good! i’m good!”

“Okay, that’s good.” Jack forces a small nervous smile, “Can you come back to me…yeah? just a few steps toward me. I’m not gonna hurt you I promise.”

Liars. They’re all liars. The voice whispers again.

You take small steps toward him, and with shaky hands, you hand him his phone. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted my love. Now, can you sit next to me?”

You nod and hesitantly sit on the edge of the bed. He shifts over next to you, reaching out for your hand, “I don’t know what’s changed… but I will never be angry with you. Never. Okay?” Jack doesn’t want to question your behaviour any further. Not yet. He wants to study more of your behaviour and reactions before he starts questioning it. Because this… This isn’t a behaviour that’s been brought on overnight. “We’ll soak it in some rice — worst case I’ll buy a new one. It’s nothing really..”

“Mhmm”

“Now shall we go back to bed?”

“Yes, please.”

“It’s my day off today, so I’m getting all the cuddles, if that’s okay?”

“I’d love nothing more.” This definitely wasn’t a lie. You wanted to feel safe again, and his arms were your only safe space. 

“You sleeping okay?” He asks as he shifts on the bed, lying down next to you. He felt you in the night, tossing and turning, and waking up at the early hours of the day. But you always came up with an excuse that he believed. Until now.

“I am, of course I am.” You lie as you turn over to face him, forcing yet another smile. Jack starts talking to you, but your mind shuts off, taking you back to when you were a teenager, reminding you of all the ugly things they did to you as you fall back to sleep. 

⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆

The invitation for Dana’s housewarming party has been sat on your fridge for weeks, but now that it’s actually time to get ready and leave, your body refuses to move. Your mind’s been foggy since the text message came through, and your anxiety has been slowly brewing, and you knew that the comedown will be ugly. You still haven’t replied, and you've decided that you won’t be replying. They don’t deserve you, so why the hell should you put yourself through this for them?

You have no excuse on why you won’t be able to attend Dana’s party, so you brave yourself and head out of the door, over to the cafe to pick up some pastries. Jack insisted he’d come over and meet you but you told him to meet you there. The last thing you truly wanted is for Jack to start questioning on why you’ve not slept, eaten, and cannot form a full sentence without slurring your words. 

“Order sixteen?” The waitress calls out. 

“That’s me! Thank you.” You approach the counter and pull your purse out to pay, “How much do I owe-“ 

Ugly eyes were staring back at you. 

You’d recognise these demonic eyes anywhere. 

The same eyes that stared into your soul when you got beaten up.

That malicious smile..

It stabbed you right in the chest. Suddenly your chest was starting to hurt, your body reminding you the many times your older brother punched you. 

“-ready when you are” the waitress says.

“Hmm?” You finally break away from his gaze and look back at the waitress, “uh… oh.. I uh..”

How long has he been sat there for?

Does he know where you live? 

Is he going to hurt you?

“I’m sorry I uh-“ you turn your back to him, abandoning your order on counter and sprint out of the cafe. You haven’t had a panic attack this bad since the dinner — the same night you met Jack. Except this time Jack isn’t here to calm you down. You’re alone and in danger.

“Well if it isn’t the favourite child” the ugly voice says. 

Your legs can’t move quick enough before he caught up with you. He always caught you, regardless of where you hid. 

“Let’s talk, sis” he smiles as he grabs hold of your arm and pulls you down a quiet alleyway. 

Your body wants to move, fight, scream but his evil stare paralyses you on the spot.

“I’m so happy I bumped into you…” he says slowly, grinning as he leans in. “It’s been a long two years, sis”

“What do you want?”

“The whole family’s upset with you… running away like this?” He clicks his teeth, then slowly pushes you against the wall. “I missed you.”

“Let me go”

“Oh you can run if you want to… but I know that you don’t. Because you miss me. Dolcezza.” His wink sends a wave of nausea through you. 

He is right — you do want to run but your legs stop moving. They’re a heavy and dead weight, and suddenly you’re sixteen again, cornered in your bedroom, while he yells at you, throwing punches around you until one lands on your body. 

“So are you coming to the family dinner? We miss our girl.”

“Fuck you” you spit out, knowing it will get you in a lot of trouble, but you’re done being sweet. You’re not as sweet as they think. “Fuck you!” You yell again and push him off, making a run for it, but you don’t make it very far as he holds onto your hair and pulls you back toward him . “Can’t leave now without saying goodbye? Hmm? I also have your pastries… they’re as sweet as you.”

He shoves you against the wall awfully hard, and your mind convinces you this is the moment you’re going to die. And Jack… oh Jack you never got to say goodbye. If only you told him the truth. 

“Give me a fucking hug, dolcezza. Don’t be a bitch and make me kill you.” He stands there with his arms wide open, with the same malicious grin on his face. 

It’s either this or dying. But you can’t die yet, not until you say goodbye to Jack. You step forward, embracing his hug, smelling his cologne. The same cologne he sprayed every morning, the same one that lingered in the air after he beat you up. 

“Good to see you sis, enjoy the pastries.” He pulls back slowly, leans in and giving your forehead a kiss before turning on his heels. 

The kiss burns your skin, and you instantly wipe it off, rubbing the back of your hand across your forehead. Over and over and over again. 

“Okay, okay” you gasp for a breath, “I’m okay, I’m okay.. okay.” You look at the box of pastries that is now crumpled, and you hold it tight against your chest so your shaky hands don’t drop it to the ground. Luckily you had some wipes on you, so you clean off the blood that now trickled down your face from your scalp. “It’s only a cut..” you whisper to yourself, “just a small cut. It’s just a cut…” 

You don’t remember making it over to Dana’s house, because that fog that took over your mind these last couple of weeks? Was now much much worse. Your legs were like jelly, and with every step you took approaching the door, you felt yourself get more dizzier and dizzier.

“Hi Dana!” Years of faking excitement so you’ve mastered the perfect reaction, “it’s so good to see you!”

“Hello Doll don’t you look lovely!” She embraces your hug, and your body reminds you that’s not ready to be hugged yet. 

“These are for you, I’m sorry the box is.. damaged. Someone bumped into me.”

“No stress sweet” she chuckles, and your stomach twists at the way she said sweet. “Come on in, Jack’s been antsy waiting for you.” 

She leads the way to the lounge where everyone is now gathered, and Jack’s face lights up the moment you approach him.

“Hi baby” he pulls you down toward him, sitting you closely next to him, “missed you.” He coos in your ear; you wish you could feel something, anything happy, but instead your stomach twists in anxiety again.

“Me too Jacky. Sorry I’m late.”

“You okay bub?” Maybe you could fool everyone, but not your boyfriend. Jack’s been monitoring your behaviour the last couple of days, and he’s convinced something has changed but he’s not too sure why. Little does he know, it started when you were just a kid. His hand wraps around you, strong fingers gripping into your forearm to ground you. But again, little does he know, his touch was making you feel sick and panicky. 

“All good.” You force another smile, turning your attention to Santos and Whitaker who sat next to you. 

You try your hardest to keep up with conversations, but ugly images of your brothers from over the years, including today, keep flashing in your vision. It became incredibly difficult to distinguish between reality and the past. Your throat has gone dry, and your lips now felt like sand paper. Reaching over for a glass of water, someone coughs and your shaky hands knock it over and it shatters; glass and water splattering at Whitaker and Robby’s feet.

“Dolcezza, what the fuck did you do that for?” Someone says.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” You cry out. 

“Pick it, bitch” 

You do as they say and lean forward to pick up the glass, trying your best to ignore the yelling. But a hand out of nowhere comes too close to your face, and it’s got to be one of your brothers who was about to hit you? Right? No. It was only Robby trying to help you clean up the glass, but you yelped in fear, falling off the sofa straight onto the glass. 

“I’m sorry” you spit out, looking around the room and your bothers are staring back at you. 

“Pick it up Dolcezza. Get on your fucking knees and pick up the mess you are.” 

“Okay, okay I will!” You scoop up the mess you made with bare hands, shrugging off the hands that now sat on your shoulder pulling you back. 

Someone was yelling at you, but you don’t recognise the voice. It wasn’t any of your brothers’ voices?

“I’m cleaning it up! Please don’t touch me!” You shrug the hands off again as you scoop up the glass into your hands.

You’re no familiar to the smell of blood, but this time there was ao much of it, now tricking down on the carpet. Tears, mixed with blood and glass sat on the floor in front of you. 

“C’mon pick it up quicker!” 

“I’m trying” you cry out, “I’m really really trying!” They were going to punish you, you are certain of it. 

The same hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back away from the mess. The glass you’ve now collected has fallen back to the floor and you cry out again. The voice behinds you calls you baby, but none of your family or friends ever called you that.

No one except one.

“I’m here, it’s okay, I’m here” the voice coos in your ear, “baby just breathe with me, hmm?”

“No, no- I’m sorry let me clean it up.”

“You’re here with me, with Jack. It’s just me bub and our friends” he manages to drag you away from the glass, taking you straight outside into the garden, “you’re with me and safe”

“I’m sorry I broke it! I- didn’t mean to- I promise I didn’t” you wipe the tears away, spreading glass shards and blood over your face. 

“I’ll get the med kit” Robby tells Jack as he runs back inside.

“Jack do you want us to do anything?”

“Bowl of warm water please so I can clean her up,” he rasps out, not taking his eyes form you for one second, “she’s having some sort of flashback, I’ve never see her like this.”

“I’ll get the water” Santos runs in, and Dana adds, “I’ll get everyone to move away, the last thing she wants are prying eyes.”

“I’m really sorry Dana” you have snapped out of your flashback, all thanks to Jack’s touch grounding you, “I really didn’t mean to”

“No stress sweet. It’s just an accident.”

“I’m sorry I know but-“

“Hey how about we buy Dana a new glass? Hmm?” Jack says softly as he holds onto your wrists so you don’t hurt yourself, “sound like a plan?”

“Okay”

“Okay baby, now can you sit down on the chair for me? So I can clean you up?”

“I-I can do it? It’s fine really you don’t have to” 

“But I want to, if you let me. After all I’m the doctor?” Jack forces a soft smile, because he has no other option but to smile. “Shall we go home after this? Yeah?”

“Yeah okay” you nod shakily.

“Wanna tell me what happened there?” He says taking the med kit from Robby, and starts cleaning up your hands gently. Robby pulls a chair next to you, and he notices the dried up blood that’s wrapped around your hair. 

“It was nothing, I’m sorry if I acted weird, I really didn’t meant to ruin anyone’s day! Please don’t be upset-“

“No one’s upset baby, I promise you that. Right Robby?”

“It was only a bit of water and some glass. It’s nothing really.” Robby forces a small smile, but it’s clear that you’ve been assaulted because why else would you have dried up blood in your hair? “Hey Jack how about I clean her up and you can sit next to her?”

Jack frowns but Robby subtly points at your hair, so they swap. Jack puts one arm around your shoulder, leaning in toward you. He sees the dried blood and his heart sinks. But he can’t risk asking you question, not wanting to send you into yet another flashback. 

He waits until Robby cleans you up and stitches your hands to take you home. Jack never letting go of you, murmuring supporting and loving words to help ground you, all the way home, until you’re back safe and sound in your apartment. 

“Do you feel like having a shower? “Clean off the blood?”

You answer him but Jack tilts his head and frowns, “say that again?”

“I said I’ll shower in the kitchen”

“Baby what are you trying to say?”

“I said-“ the nausea stops you from saying anything further, you gesture of him to wait, until the twisting and sickly feeling settles. You take a deep breath, and quickly mutter, “I’ll go shower”

“Can we talk? About what happened today?”

“There’s nnnnothing to say?” You shake your head in attempt to focus, “I um my head hurts I think from the blood?”

“Let’s sit you down, I’ll take off your jacket to cool you down” he helps you over to the couch, sitting you down slowly, slipping your jacket off, revealing your bare arms that had a bruise on it. A finger print bruise.

“What’s… this?” With shaky hands he grabs hold of your arm, examining the bruise, “baby who did this?”  

“It’s a longggg story…”

“I have time; I need to know what else they did?”

You shake your head and the movement sends stabbing pains down to your ears and neck, “no no no I promise I’m fine!”

“Okay you have a concussion, baby you gotta tell me everything. Please.” Jack can now see how obvious it is that you’ve got a concussion: the blood on your hair from blunt trauma, the slurring of speech and dizziness. Panic sets in and he can no longer act like he’s fine with whatever this is.

You shake your head again and burst into tears. 

“Okay, please don’t cry hmm? Let’s get you to bed. We can sit in bed and I promise we don’t have to talk. Not yet.” It kills him that you’re not saying what has happened to you.

You nod and do as he says, your brain far too foggy to make any decisions or argue.

Jack sticks to his promise, stays in bed with you, but he can’t look away from the bruise. How is it he can approach a conversation without sending you into a crash down?

“Where do you want to go for our next vacation?” Jack asks softly, his fingers gently trailing up and down your bruised up arm. 

“Anywhere you want”

“You don’t want to go anywhere specific? Anywhere in Europe?”

“I’ll go anywhere you go”

“Anywhere, anywhere?”

“You’re the only one I ever need Jack.”

“Same goes for you baby” he murmurs, “I’ll follow you to end of the earth if I have to.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

“Because I love you”

“I don’t know if I deserve that”

“Deserve my love? What makes you say that?”

“I’m scared Jack”

“Of me?”

“Of them.”

So you tell him. You tell him everything. From the moment they laid hands on, to the night at the gala where you first met Jack, and until today’s events. 

You don’t lie about a single thing. 

Because love is strong, love is honesty, and love wins above all.

⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆

Do you know what’s more powerful than love? Revenge. 

And that’s what Jack Abbot set his mind to, the moment you told him everything your family has put you through. 

He woke up every morning, and planned his revenge. 

He went to sleep every night, and planned his revenge. 

He pulled up outside your brother’s house, and has already planned his revenge. 

Jack Abbot was never an angry man.

But now that’s in love, with someone as kind as you, he’d sell his soul to the devil if that means keeping you safe.

He gets out of the car first, then comes over to your side, slowly helping you get out of the car. 

“You can do this.” His voice is gentle but firm, grounding you to the ground that seems to shake underneath you with every step you take. “Say the word and we will leave. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah okay.”

Jack walks into the house and is greeted but what looks like a normal family. Everyone’s so happy and smiley, but also so fucking fake. He doesn’t let go of your waist once. Not even when your brothers take you in for a hug, one by one. 

Jack carries out with conversation as normal, but his revenge plan was calculated to perfection.

He may or may not have dropped a couple of hints about what they've done to you, but only when you weren’t around. Only when he was with the brothers.

He may or may not have said that you shared too much of your sweet…. Sweet childhood.

Was it dangerous to interrupt wasps while you’re in the middle of their hive? 

Yeah it was so fucking dangerous. But Jack would die for you, if he had to.

He mentions how highly you speak of them. How touchy feely they were growing up. How hands-on they were.

He gives them credit in his mind — for being such good actors. 

He waits until it was almost dinner time, when everyone has had a bit too much to drink. 

“Hey baby, shall we go home?”

“What? Why? Did they say something did they hurt-“

“No it’s just my leg. It’s aching. I think it’s best if we call it a night.”

“Okay sure, I’d love nothing more than to leave.” Jack watched you the entire evening — the person he fell in love with was completely different to the woman in front of him. You’re quiet, nervous, anxious, shaky and jumpy. Oh he could not wait any long for his plan to fall into place.

“Wait in the car, I’ll say my goodbyes.”

But Jack doesn’t say his goodbyes, no. 

Jack hangs around the kitchen, looking at all the pictures that hung on the fridge. Pictures of all of your brothers, and their kids, but none of you.

“Beautiful photos” Jack murmurs. “Shame she’s not in any of them.”

“She was never a fan of taking photos.”

“Huh I wonder why…”

He scoffs, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh it’s nothing” Jack waves his hand casually, “I’m just being silly.”

“Huh”

“Speaking of silly… how are your kids? Are they silly?”

“Kids are kids you know..”

Jack clicks his teeth, “wouldn’t know, don’t have them, don’t want them. They’re dirty and messy.. and they break things and then you have to resist the urge to smack them. Gotta learn their lesson.” He lies.

“Huh” 

“So anyway, we’re gonna be heading out. Sorry we’re not staying for dinner, but I got you this bottle of wine as an apology.” Jack hands him the bottle of wine, with a photo stuck on the front of it. A photo of your brother’s handprint on you. But just before Jack hands it over, he deliberately drops it to the floor. Red wine splashes against the white kitchen cabinets, along with shards of glass.

“Ooops” Jack says slowly, with a smirk on his face, “you better clean that up.”

“I don’t know what you’re playing at.”

“Me? Literally nothing. It’s just a little birdie told me you sometimes get rough when kids break things. Right?”

“You’re lying”

“And you’re not denying it” Jack shrugs, “or are you? Because the CCTV footage of you shoving her against the wall in that alleyway is more than proof.”

“Get out of my house.” 

“Or what? You’re gonna hit me like you hit her?”  

Jack sees your brother’s nostril as they start to flare — his face is angry and red, his eyes — this stare is a devil’s stare. It cannot be described any other way. 

Bingo. The wasp is finally angry and about to sting.

“Don’t worry she told me everything. Like literally everything.”

Your brother takes a step forward toward Jack, stepping on the broken glass like it was nothing, “she’s a little bitch”

Jack clicks his teeth and shakes his head, “now that’s not very nice of you. Is it?”

“Dolcezza needs to learn how to keep her mouth shut.”

“Why? Is it like a family secret… like a secret tomato recipe like they do in Italy?”

“Get out of my house!” He yells, “before I-“

“Before… what?”

The wasp is angry. Very angry.

“I should’ve cut off her tongue when I had the chance. Maybe the bitch wouldn’t have over spoken.”

“That’s a bit harsh don’t you think? Cutting off her tongue? Maybe a little slap or a punch…” Jack teases, angering the wasp just a tiny bit more.

“The bitch had enough of those. She never learns.”

"Enough of your fingerprints on her? Enough punches?"

"I wish I hit her harder", he spits out.

“Perrrrfect.” Jack purrs. He puts his hand out, gesturing for your brother to stand still. He sticks out five fingers.

He lowers one. 

And another.

And another.

And one last one.

“Boom.” The entrance door swings wide open, and police swarm the house, coming straight into the kitchen.

That sweet look of betrayal on your brother’s face, and the sweet look of revenge on Jack’s face. 

Jack takes a step forward, careful of the glass, smiling from ear to ear, “the beauty of hidden cameras. Say hello” he points at his chest. “See… unlike you I’m a nice guy. And when you’re this nice, and have connections… then well, people start owing you favours. But… you don’t have to say anything because you’ve confessed to more than enough. Anyway…” Jack clicks his teeth, letting the officers handcuff him. “I heard that they’ll reduce your sentence if you tell them what your brothers did too.” 

Jack looks back at the family that is now watching a horror scene unfold. All of their secrets are now out in the open. Someone's crying, others are yelling, and one of his kids... is smiling.

“I’ll make sure you never practice medicine again. Enjoy prison; I’ll ask for all of you to be put together.”

And with that he leaves the house, closing a chapter of your life for good. 

“Shall we go home?” Jack asks calmly as he gets in his car.

“Uhhhhh Jack?” You look in disbelief over at him, “What happened…?”

“Nothing you need to worry yourself about.”

“Is that my brother in handcuffs?”

“Oh yeah” Jack chuckles as he watches him getting dragged outside, “he’s going to prison, by the way. Hope that’s okay with you?”

You burst into hysterical laughter, tears streaming down your face as the absurdity of it all finally catches up with you. As Jack pulls away, you roll down the window and stick your head out, shouting complete gibberish into the air.

Not as sweet as you think. 

That’s what you’d title your book.

⋆ ──── ♡ ──── ⋆

A/n

I'd like to imagine that Jack proposed to her one day while they were in bed. It was simple, quiet, and just the two of them. I imagine that, straight after proposing, he takes her out on a car ride and drives over to a small cottage. Like the one Miss Honey lived in (from Matilda). They get married there too.

I also imagine that when the topic of kids was brought up, she said she doesn't want biological children. So when they start their adoption process, they are matched with a little boy who's four years old. The agency informs them that he has a sister who is also in foster care, who's no older than seven.

I imagine Jack comes home from work, she's outside in the garden, playing with her two beautiful children, surrounded by far too many animals that she's rescued.

And Jack couldn’t stop staring at you like he’d found the love of his life. His hazel eyes trailed along your body, and a deep blush painted across your face. You’d caught him staring across the ER, but instead of looking away, he kept eye contact while his hands moved across a tablet. In one blink, he was moving toward you like a man on a mission. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe under the weight of his gaze. 

In fewer than five steps, Jack closed in on you, and his hands lifted just to grip your hips and pull you into his orbit. Your breath hitched high in your throat at his closeness. Around you, the Pitt melted away, and all you could feel was Jack, Jack, Jack—

“Earth to Y/n!” 

A snap near your face had you leaning back away from your phone. Your eyes widened as you stared at your small friend group. Suddenly, the entire world around you came crashing down in overlapping voices and the distinct smell of mall food, an odd combination of Japanese, Pizza, and sub sandwiches. Your phone stayed open to the latest chapter of your favorite Jack Abbot fanfic, and now looking at your friends, you knew you’d been caught. You quickly shut off your phone and placed it face down on the sticky table. 

“Sorry,” you muttered. “What were you saying?” 

Your best friend, Sarah, rolled her eyes. “You’d know what we were saying if you weren’t nose first in your phone. What was it this time? One of those smutty fanfics you’re so into these days?” 

“It’s definitely one about that silver-haired doctor,” your other friend, Haley, chimed in. “What’s his name again? Jake?” 

“Jack,” you shot out before realizing your mistake. You’d come off too strong, and your friends ate it up like vultures. “I-I mean—” 

“You really need to get laid,” Sarah told you, voice dipping into a border-line condescending tone. “Your daddy issues are showing, babes.” 

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You rolled your eyes before taking a bite of your now-cooling food, slimy noodles sliding down your throat in one swallow. “And I don’t want to get laid. I’m perfectly content where I’m at; thank you very little.” 

Haley hummed. “You’re telling me that you’re happy reading hours and hours of fictional worlds while you could be out and about meeting new people. What if your future husband looks like this Jett?” 

“Jack,” you corrected—again. “And I don’t want a future husband unless he looks like Shawn Hatosy dressed in a SWAT uniform.” 

“You are so down bad for a fictional man. When was the last time you had an interest in someone who was actually . . . real?” 

You pursed your lips when no names came to mind. To get them off your back you could have mentioned the two-second crush you had on Luke Davis way back in ninth grade. But he had been eliminated from the list the moment you got back home and pulled out a Bucky Barnes fanfic where you found out you wouldn’t mind an older man calling you doll. And plus, ninth grade was almost fifteen years ago. Confessing that while currently being in grad school at the ripe age of 24 would have been more embarrassing than saying nothing at all. 

“A while,” you spat after settling on a response. “But the modern online dating field is not for me. Every time I try one of the apps, I either get insulted or an unsolicited 3-inch-dick pic like it’s supposed to impress me. Unless you two have a magical solution to find me the picture-perfect man, I’m perfectly okay spending my time reading fanfiction.” 

You went to spoon in another bite, but you noticed the way they glanced at each other. The corner of your lips tugged downward. “What? Why are you two looking at each other like that?” 

Sarah sucked in a breath. “We weren’t going to say anything but—” 

“But you look like you need it,” Haley finished the sentence before turning, hands already deep in her purse on the chair next to her. 

You tried to not be offended by her words, but an ugly feeling bloomed in your chest. You hated the way they judged you. Fanfiction had quickly become a paradise away from the ugly world you lived in. If a few chapters and one shots here and there helped your mental health stay regulated, you saw no harm in divulging into the world of fiction. It also helped that most of the fics you read were tagged with “x-reader;” the idea of getting to put your name mixed in with iconic characters kept you feeling alive. Authors let you live lives you could never do in the real world. How could you give up that kind of mental freedom? 

“Here,” Haley finally said as she pushed something towards you. 

You eyed the red and white packaging with the words One Wish Willow written in fun lettering along with two cartoon drawn people. Hesitantly, you grabbed it and brought it closer to read. 

“The guy at the store said they actually work,” Sarah explained. “You state a wish and break it, then tadaaaa your wish comes true.” 

Looking at it while spinning it in your hands, your nose crinkled. What Sarah just said sounded way too good to be true. 

“There’s no way,” you said, a bit awestruck. Your thumb ran across the words on the back of the package: Spark the middle and break in half. “I think you both got scammed.” You placed it back down on the table, but one look at the two of them gave you a sinking feeling in your stomach. “You two actually believe this shit?”   

“Look, Y/n, we just want to look out for you,” Sarah said slowly as if she were talking to a child. “And if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, but there’s no harm in trying. But we can’t sit here and let you go on like this. Before you know it, you’re going to be fifty, living alone, and still reading stories about fictional characters. I mean, look at yourself.” 

To your surprise, Haley nodded along. “Grad school is killing you. And you can’t say that you’ll find a man once you graduate. Because by then, you’re going to find another excuse.”

You eyed the thing as their words sank thorns into your soul, and for some odd reason, you felt compelled to pick it back up again. You don’t know if it was the idea that any wish you made would come true or the desire to prove them both wrong, but instead of leaving it there for them to take back, you grabbed it and pushed it deep in your purse. 

“Whatever. But when it doesn’t work, I’m totally rubbing it in both your faces,” you said. 

Finally, you shoved the last bite of your food into your mouth, but your mind was racing with the possibilities of what you could use the one wish willow for. Sure, Sarah and Haley wanted you to use it to get a boyfriend, but honestly, that seemed boring. The world, hypothetically, could be at your fingertips. What was stopping you from using it to become a millionaire, change everything you hated about yourself, stop world hunger. 

The possibilities seemed to endlessly swim around your brain while you drove back home from the mall, the sky already dimming the closer you got to your destination. You sighed in relief once you pulled into your driveway and leaned your head against the steering wheel, eyes flitting towards your bag. Your fingers itched to pull the One Wish Willow out, and you, against everything, obeyed them. You picked at the heavy paper packaging, and the branch slid out right into your palm. 

It was dark and hole-filled, and it barely weighed anything. You guessed that was necessary for easy breakage when you used it. You read over the instructions one more time before taking each end, holding it a few inches from your face. 

Outside, the night was quiet. There were no joggers, no late-night walkers, no one to witness what you were about to do. You inhaled sharply and lowered the branch. 

“This is stupid,” you mumbled to yourself. 

You almost put the branch back in the packaging, but your phone screen lighting up stopped you. You glanced over and caught the notification. A quick read told you that another author had updated a Jack Abbot series. Your heart panged. 

Were you truly going to be alone forever, stuck reading fanfiction well into your fifties while pretending you lived in a different universe?  

Before you could second guess yourself again, you took a hold of the branch. 

“I wish Jack Abbot was real and would love me and do anything for me like he does in fanfiction.”

The branch snapped in two. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, and your body tensed as you waited for something like a huge explosion to happen and for Jack to appear like some mythical genie. But when everything stayed quiet, you slowly opened your eyes. Frustrated tears welled in your lash line, and you threw the two pieces of the branch somewhere deep in your car. You jerked the door open and all but slammed it closed. Each step you took to your house reverberated into the concrete walkway. The automatic lights turned on while you unlocked the door with shaking hands, and the key missed twice before finally going in. With a harsh shove, the front door gave way into a dark home. By the looks of it, your mom probably wasn’t home, or every light inside would have been on. 

An eeriness crept over you, but through your glossy eyes and overwhelming feelings of loneliness, you brushed it off. The One Wish Willow was an absolute joke, and you knew you should have texted Sarah and Haley that it hadn’t worked. Your chest tightened once you realized exactly why you didn’t want to rub it in their faces right away. In the car, you’d given yourself the smallest morsel of hope that it would actually work. The idea of having your own Jack Abbot had taken over quicker than you would have liked. Even with all your constant reassurances to Sarah and Haley that you didn’t want a man, that you were happy with being alone, you were beginning to feel the crux of being the last single person in your friend group.  

Even the promise of a new chapter once you shuffled into bed wasn’t enough to lift your mood. But as you tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep, you reached for your phone in need of familiar comfort. Your thumb pressed on the white T icon, and you scrolled until one caught your eye. The tags used xreader, but as you scrolled, you couldn’t help but notice something peculiar. 

Instead of the normal “Y/n” whenever Jack would “say” the reader’s name, your actual name stared back at you in every paragraph. 

You blinked a few times, wondering if you’d gotten to the point where “Y/n” automatically became your given name. But when the words didn’t change, your brows pinched. You didn’t have any added mods, and the author stated that they hadn’t given the reader a special nickname or anything of the sorts. You scrolled up until the page refreshed. 

Surely there was a glitch you thought. 

However, after the loading symbol went away, your name continued to be written in the fic. On one hand, you knew you should have put the phone down; obviously you were tired and sad and currently hallucinating. Yet, you continued reading on, already sucked deep into the story. 

Jack didn’t know what to do; you’d disappeared on him after an argument. His calls went unanswered, his messages left unread. His heart raced below his sternum in a panicked rhythm. He couldn’t lose you, not after he already lost his wife. He refused to lose you. With a sharp inhale, he turned and faced an empty space to his right, hazel eyes boring into the reader’s—wait. 

You pulled your phone away from your face as you sat up. Had you read that correctly? 

—hazel eyes boring into the reader’s. He stood still, seemingly knowing that there was a presence he couldn’t see but could always feel. 

“I’ll be there soon, sweetheart,” Jack spoke to no one. “And when I find you, I’m going to make you so, so, so, so happy. I’m exactly what you need and want. I—”

Your phone screen went black after you pushed in the power button. The eerie feeling from earlier grew at the base of your skull, and your skin pricked with the sensation that someone was watching you. Your face whipped to the far corner of your room, the one that was always half-cast with a shadow after the sun went down. Logically, you knew no one was standing there, but you turned your flashlight on anyway. A quick scan around the room settled you some but not entirely. 

You slowly lowered back down into your bed and pulled the covers up to your chin. Thankfully, sleep was already licking at the edges of your mind. But as you lolled into its grasp, you couldn’t rid yourself of what the author made Jack say at the end. 

—I won’t hesitate to do anything to make you mine. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Two loud knocks at the front door followed by your mom screaming Y/n! Get your ass down here and answer the fucking door! had you shooting up from your bed. 

Without even looking at yourself, you scampered down the stairs in just a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. You had no time to even think about what the person on the other side could even want before you wrenched the door open, and all reminders to look through the peep hole first failed entirely. Sun spots swirled in your vision, but once they settled enough for you to see who had been knocking, you froze entirely. 

“There you are, sweetheart.”  

You knew that voice. You’d heard that voice clearly through your TV speakers. 

Your eyes widened, and a breath hitched high in your throat. You gripped the sides of the threshold with white knuckles. For a split-second, you wondered if you were still dreaming before wondering if you’d died in your sleep, because there was absolutely no fucking way the man standing on your doorstep was actually who you thought it would be. 

Your body jolted under a firm hand, and you whirled around to see your mother’s figure standing behind you. She eyed you carefully before putting on a smile that only you knew to be very fake. 

“Hi there,” she said loudly, voice too chipper for 8:15 am. “How can we help you?” 

The salt-and-pepper-curly-haired man smiled warmly, and his hazel eyes never left yours. “Baby, you didn’t tell your mom about me?” he chuckled like this was all some inside joke. 

Your mom glared at you from the side of her eye. “Baby?” 

“I really should have called beforehand that I was on my way over,” he explained before thrusting out his large hand. “Jack Abbot. It’s nice to meet my girl’s mom.” 

The way he said my girl had your heart racing for more than one reason. The main one being you’d never met this man in your entire life, unless you counted the multitude of fics you consumed to the point you felt like you did know him—Jack. But that was all fiction uploaded to multiple websites, yet the man standing less than a foot away from you looked real and not a figment of your wild imagination. Hell, even your mom saw him, so to some degree you knew you were hallucinating or weren’t dead upstairs.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Jack. I’m sorry you’ve seemed to slip my daughter’s mind,” she hissed the last bit out. “Come inside please.” She yanked you away from the door and whispered harshly in your ear, “You could have told me about this.” 

Your jaw dropped before snapping back shut when your mind refused to catch up to the situation. Jack—if you could even think of him as your beloved fictional character—stepped forward and placed a hand to the small of your back. His touch felt like electricity, white hot and zipping up your spine. He softly pushed you along until he fully got inside your hours. 

“Jack, let’s get you into the kitchen! I’m sure I can make a quick breakfast for us while Y/n changes upstairs,” your mom stated, but the suggestiveness in her gaze wasn’t as subtle as she thought it was. 

Jack clicked his tongue against his cheek. “That sounds lovely, but I’m afraid I already made plans with Y/n to go out for breakfast.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in like a rag doll. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart,” he cooed. 

As if a spell had been cast over you, you nodded numbly. “Yeah,” you managed to croak. “We’re going out for breakfast.” 

“Let’s get you changed, baby, and then we’ll get heading out,” he said. “It was nice meeting you.” With not another glance toward you mom, he walked you over to the staircase and motioned for you to go first. 

Once the two of you made it into your room, you closed the door before pushing your back against the grain to put some space between you and supposedly Jack Abbot.  

“Okay, what the fuck man,” you sneered. “Is this some stupid cosplay? Did Sarah and Haley put you up to this? Because coming to my house and pretending we know each other let alone dating is downright creepy and stalker behavior.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said while cocking his head to the side. “Did you hit your head? Should I look at it for you?” He stepped forward and raised his hands, but you were quick to shake your head. 

“No; I’m fine,” you said. “I’m just . . .” You closed your eyes. “I don’t know why you’re here. You don’t exist here.” 

Jack paused for a minute before laughing loudly. “Baby, are you taking the piss? Of course I exist here; you know I exist only for you.” This time, he walked until your fronts were almost pressing. The warm, spicy scent of his cologne hit your nose. His hands did not touch you, but the twitches in his fingers told you he wanted to. “I told you last night that I’d come find you, baby.” 

“Huh?” 

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head? You asked for me last night after the mall. I know I’m old, but how could you forget so soon, baby?” 

His words hit you like an 18-wheeler to the stomach. 

The broken-in-two One Wish Willow that remained in your car filled your thoughts. You swore it hadn’t worked, because last night nothing had happened. And then you remembered one of the fine print warnings. 

*Wait up to 24 hours for your wish to come true.

It was as if it all made sense now. The fucking gimmick worked; you couldn’t rub it’s failure in Sarah and Haley’s faces anymore. Jack fucking Abbot was in your bedroom acting like the two of you were romantically together. 

Your wish—against all odds—had come true. 

Happiness washed over you like a tidal wave, and you stepped right into Jack’s orbit, arms coming up to wrap around his middle. You couldn’t believe the way you fit right into his chest, and you were elated to hear his heart beat so fast at your closeness. 

“There you go, pretty girl,” Jack whispered against your temple. His hand gently rested against the back of your head. “I’ve missed you so, so, so, so much. I’m yours forever; I’ll do anything for you.” 

In the throes of his whispered promises, you forgot about the smallest warning buried within the fine print of the One Wish Willow Packaging. 

*Side effects of a wish may include violent tendencies, self-mutilation, and unexpected behavior. Please wish responsibly. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Life with Jack was infinite bliss, and you’d be a fool to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

He was the perfect man and exactly the type of person you’d been secretly wishing for the entire time. If you were truly honest with yourself, all the times you said you were happy were lies upon lies upon lies. You hated how Sarah and Haley went on double dates with their boyfriends all the time while leaving you behind. Their happiness just showed that if you didn’t have them, you had no one. 

No one to laugh with; no one to be around; no one to love. Jack filled in those spaces like glue holding your life together. Suddenly, you didn’t have to wonder who you’d take to the movies to see the latest film. You didn’t have to sit alone in your bed while hoping for someone to come along and sweep you off your feet like men did in stories. You didn’t even have to worry about feeling scared when you slept. Jack apparently had an affinity for watching you rest. 

When Jack was around—which was pretty much all the time—you were never alone. 

A few weeks after he showed up on your doorstep, you made plans to introduce him to Sarah and Haley at the local bar the three of you frequented. You’d been excited for them to see what had happened, to see how Jack made you happy. Jack seemed to be passive about it, but one smile his way had him melting to your every whim. 

“What makes you happy makes me happy,” he had told you before pressing his lips deeply against yours. “Do I make you happy, sweetheart?” 

“So much,” you had whispered back against his lips. 

However, now that you were seated next to Jack and their eyes were filled with skepticism and doubt, an ugly feeling settled inside your chest. You tried to focus on the game of Jenga, but the weight of their gaze pressed heavy on your mood that continued to sour the longer the night progressed. 

As you tried your best to shuffle another block out, Sarah leaned forward. 

“So . . . Jack . . . where do you work?” she asked. 

Jack rubbed at his jaw while he thought, and your focus shifted to the way his bicep bulged in the short-sleeved shirt he wore out. 

“I’m a senior attending at an ER up in Pittsburgh,” he stated.

Haley raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you here? Surely your hospital keeps your leash a bit tight.” 

You pulled the block out successfully and held it up for Jack to see. He mouthed a good girl and winked, sending you into a blushy mess before answering. 

“I’m on a well-needed sabbatical right now. My girl needed me here, and I couldn’t think of being anywhere else.” His hand came to rest at your nape, and his fingers squeezed. 

“What happens when your sabbatical is up? Y/n’s in grad school right now, and I doubt she can do the long distance,” Sarah explained, and that ugly feeling roared inside your chest.  

Jack pursed his lips and sat back against the couch. “I’m sure that we’ll work something out when we cross that bridge. I’m not opposed to long distance, but I’m also not opposed to her moving close to me either.” 

Haley let out a soft scoff to which you looked at her strangely. 

“Do you have something to say, Haley?” you questioned. 

She looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I-I just think that moving in with someone you’ve been with for a few weeks is a bit fast.” 

“I’m not getting any younger,” you tried to joke, but the tone of your voice said that you were anything but joking. “And it wouldn’t be too terrible. After this semester I’m changing to online classes anyway.” 

Sarah’s face pinched tightly. “What happened to moving onto campus with us next semester?” 

You shrugged lazily. “The thought about moving was getting to be too stressful.” You linked your arm into Jack’s. “Jack suggested online classes, and it was like a weight lifted off my chest.” 

Your friends stared widely with their jaws unhinged. 

Sarah waved a hand around. “Hold on. Just because he told you to do something, you just did it without discussing it with anyone else? Y/n, we won’t be able to afford the deposit for the apartment if you pull out.”  

“Plus, what if he dumps you halfway through the year?” Haley suddenly asked in a stage whisper, not caring if Jack heard the question.  

Next to you, Jack’s entire body tensed. “I’m sorry—what?”

She at least had some decency to understand that her question was invasive. “Ya know . . . what if y’all have, like, a really bad argument or something? Some relationships don’t end up lasting long enough for a couple to live together. Plus, with your age gap it’s inevitable that—” 

Jack suddenly stood from the couch, and his towering body cast a shadow across the Jenga tower. He frowned deeply, and his darkening eyes narrowed down at your friends. His fists curled at his sides while his head tilted very slowly. 

“You don’t know anything about our relationship,” he hissed. “So I wouldn’t be so presumptuous if I were you.” 

Sarah leaned back enough to look him in the eye at an angle. “Dude, we’re just looking out for our friend.” 

“Yeah,” Haley said lightly. “No need to get so upset about it.” 

He ran his tongue along his teeth. “I’m upset because you had the gall to even think I’d break up with her.” He bent in slightly at the waist. “I’m in love with her; she is my everything. Whatever she asks me to do, I will do it without hesitation.” 

His voice rose with anger on every word, and soon, the entire bar was looking towards your small group. You nervously shifted on the couch, but the annoyance of their questions kept you seated and stopped you from pulling Jack back. 

Jack turned his head and spotted an empty beer bottle. He turned back to look at your friends, and without breaking eye contact, he grabbed the bottle. In one fluid motion, he swung it down, and the glass shattered against the side of the table. At the sound, you, Sarah, and Haley stood up. They backed away slightly while you stepped forward to be at Jack’s side. Yet, he paid no attention to you. 

“No one on this earth will ever comprehend what it feels like to love someone as much as I love her,” he said, timber dark and serious. It sent shockwaves through your soul. “I’d rather kill myself than ever hurt her or be without her. Every ounce of my blood that keeps my beating heart alive belongs to her and her alone.” 

Before you could do or say anything, Jack dragged the jagged edge of the broken bottle from his wrist and towards the inside of his elbow, and dark blood welled and dripped from the long gash. Sharp, surprised and horrified gasps rang through the air. 

When your eyes caught the red thick smear, you reached forward and yanked the bottle out of his hand. “Jack!” 

At the sound of your voice, Jack’s eyes softened instantly, and all tension in his body melted away. Any glimpse of the Jack moments ago was gone, but the damage had already been done. Everyone, including Sarah and Haley, watched on with scared eyes as you gently set the bottle down. You said nothing and grabbed your (Jack’s) jacket and purse. Your hand found Jack’s quickly, and without saying anything to your friends, you tugged him out of the bar and towards his car. Thankfully, he didn’t fight for the keys, and you took off, leaving the bar to turn into a speck in your rearview mirror. 

The ride back to your house was oddly quiet. Jack stared out the window the entire time, never once looking over at you. When you parked the car in the driveway, you shifted in your seat and turned to face him. 

“Jack,” you said softly. “Why’d you do that?” 

Not being on to deprive himself of your face, Jack turned too with hunched shoulders. “I’m sorry.” 

You rested a hand on his cheek. “I know you’re sorry, but you scared everyone. And you hurt yourself.” 

“I know. I don’t know why I did that, but I couldn’t let them keep talking about us—about you like that. I love you so much; that’s why I did it.” 

“Jack, I don’t need you to cut yourself because you love me, I—” 

“Do you love me?” he interrupted. 

You paused. “I do.” 

Jack leaned back into his seat. “You never say it like I do.” He sat up straight again in a jerky motion, and he placed his hands on your cheeks and held your face there. You watched his hazel hues melt into something darker. “Do you love me? Say you love me. I need to hear you say you love me, sweetheart.” 

Your throat bobbed in a thick swallow. “I love you, Jack.” 

Like at the bar, he all but melted back into his seat before leaning forward to kiss you. You let his lips languidly move against yours in sloppy motions. His hands tightened around your face, and with a small gasp, your mouth opened just enough for him to shove his hot tongue between your teeth. You moaned at the taste of him.

Before you could go any farther, he pulled back and licked his lips. “Are you going to listen to them?” 

Your head reeled at the sudden change of events. “Who?” 

“Your friends,” he spat bitterly. “They won’t change your mind about moving with me once I need to go back to work?” 

You hummed and tried to lean back in for another kiss, but Jack stopped your motion. His eyes bore into yours deeply in almost a pleading manner. 

“Tell me you want to move with me. I can’t be without you, baby. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d rather kill myself than not be with you. Do you want me to kill myself? I’ll tell you how I’d do it. Instead of my wrists, I’d take one of my scalpels and drag it along my throat.” 

Your heart beat wildly at his words, and concern corroded any love you felt for Jack in that moment. 

He looked at you through lidded eyes. “Is that what you want? You want me to die? Want me to commit suicide just to show you how much I’m obsessed with you?” 

You shook your head between his hands. 

He grinned stretched impossibly wide, but his eyes stayed dead and unmoving. “Then say what I want to hear, sweetheart. It’ll all be so, so, so much better when you say it.” 

“I want to move with you Jack. I want to follow you to Pittsburgh or wherever you go after this.” 

You were rewarded with another deep, invasive kiss that left you gasping for air. Instead of fully pulling back, Jack breathed heavily while his nose nuzzled into your face. 

“Maybe it’ll be good when I don’t have to listen to Sarah and Haley anymore,” you softly mentioned. 

Jack froze near your hairline but didn’t say anything. 

“They were kind of rude at the bar. To think they were the ones who wanted to push me to get a boyfriend in the first place. Like, imagine if you hadn’t shown up.” 

“You’re no one else’s but mine,” he growled, chest beginning to heave at the thought of you with someone who wasn’t him, kissing someone who wasn’t him, fucking someone who wasn’t him. “I’m never going to leave you.” His eyes fluttered closed. “I’m going to make sure your friends have no impact on your life again. I promise.” 

You giggled, not fully knowing the meaning of his words. “We’ll be in Pittsburgh. I’m sure they won’t want to make the drive. Don’t worry about them putting any more unsolicited input into our relationship.” 

Soon after Jack gave you one more kiss, you slipped into your house knowing Jack would be back in the morning to pick you up for another breakfast date. You paid no mind to the sound of Jack pulling away from your house or the way his car suddenly passed by in the opposite direction moments later. 

Because if you had, you would have realized he wasn’t driving to his house, oh no, he was driving back in the direction of the bar to make sure he kept his promise. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Waking up during the night wasn’t uncommon. 

Most times, you never fully managed to sleep deep enough to stay asleep for more than four hours, always having to get up for a drink of water or a bathroom break. But tonight, you woke up for a completely different reason. From the corner of your room, a noise reached you through a deep dream in a wet, continual plat, plat, plat, plat. 

With bleary eyes, you looked around the room through barely slotted eyelids. Nothing seemed to jump out at you until you glanced at the shadowed corner. There, someone stood, their outline barely visible against the black background. You blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to get your eyes focused. 

A sigh of relief wheezed through your chest when you realized that the person was just Jack; although you were confused as to why he picked the corner when you had already set up a chair near your bed the first time you found him watching you sleep. You knew he liked to take his prosthesis off after dark to give his limb a break. The least you could do was make sure he was comfortable. 

“Jack?” you called out, voice scratchy and slurry with sleep. “What’re you doin’ in the corner?” 

When he failed to answer, you pushed yourself up halfway with your arm. You reached for the lamp on your bedside table, but the floor creaking beneath his weight made you stop. 

Plat, plat, plat, plat, plat. 

“Don’t turn on the light,” he whispered. 

You slung your legs over the side of the bed and reached out a hand. “Could you at least come and sit down? Your leg must be killing you.” By now, your eyes had adjusted to the dark atmosphere, and you peered over at him when you noticed something splashed on his face. “Did you get mud on you?” 

Jack took a step forward, and his shoes squished against your hardwood floors. He stopped a few feet away from you, and that’s when a thick, metallic waft hit your senses. You urgently rubbed at the skin between your lip and the bottom of your nose in an attempt to disrupt the onslaught of iron. Your brows pinched as you looked up at him with utter confusion. 

Plat, plat, plat, plat, plat. 

“What are you covered in, baby?” You reached out to touch a large stain on the hem of his shirt. Your fingers game back slick. “What the fuck,” you whispered. Jack’s words be damned; you reached over and turned on the lamp.

As the light drenched the room, horror seized your chest with large hands at the sight in front of you. The noise that had awakened you from your sleep was the steady drip of blood that trickled from Jack’s pant leg. The stain you’d touched was larger under the light, and the lower half of his shirt was drenched in the bodily fluid. His arms that were normally tanned and freckled were covered in blood like cleaning gloves, a harsh line of red cutting around his bicep. 

Bile rose from deep in your stomach, and the acrid taste coated your tongue. 

“Jack,” you whispered in terror. Sleep’s effect had been ripped from you the moment you realized what he was covered in. “W-why are you . . . covered in blood?” 

Jack’s mouth twisted in an elated smile as he looked down at his lower half. “Do you not like it, sweetheart?” Despite his leg, he kneeled between your legs, and his dripping hands rested against your thighs. He looked up at your face with a pinched expression, similar to one you’d see on a sad puppy. “Do you not like it?” 

“It’s blood, Jack. Why are you covered in blood?” 

“Not like I don’t deal with blood on the daily.” He licked his lips. “You should be asking whose blood it is I’m covered in, baby.” He leaned in closer to your face, and your eyes burned with the smell. “C’mon; ask me.” 

You swallowed a frustrated groan before whispering, “Whose blood are you covered in?” 

His head lolled to the side. “Remember when I promised you that no one would ever speak out against us again?” Jack moved in closer and pressed his cheek against yours so that his lips were right near your ear. “Let’s just say I made sure that wouldn’t ever happen again . . . permanently.” 

It felt like all the blood drained from your face in an icy instant; a complete contrast from the way Jack licked a hot strip up from your pressure point to your ear. Your mouth dried up completely. 

“Don’t worry, baby. Those girls are never going to bother us ever again.” 

“Jack,” you whimpered, suddenly scared of the man between your legs. 

He hushed you softly. “And I made sure that your mother was also removed from the picture. I couldn’t have her waking up to find me like this.” 

Your shoulders caved in, and the smallest whimper pressed through your lips. At the sound, Jack lurched back to look at your face. Within three breaths, all emotions washed from his face as he realized that you were scared—scared of him. 

Now, he couldn’t have that, could he? 

His hand rushed up to your face, and his fingers crushed your cheeks together. He stood to his feet, but his face stayed close to yours, his warm breath fanning across your nose and lips. 

“There’s nothing for you to be afraid of,” he said calmly as if he hadn’t just implied that he’d killed your best friends and your mother. “Besides, isn’t this what you wished for?” 

Even with his strength, you managed a small shake of your head. 

He pouted. “No? But I could have sworn you said I wish Jack Abbot would love me and do anything for me.” 

“I d-didn’t ask for you to kill my friends and mom,” you cried through smushed lips. 

Jack nodded along like he agreed with you before barking out a laugh. “But you said it’d be good when you wouldn’t have to listen to them anymore. That’s what you said!” his voice thundered in your face. “I did exactly what you told me to, so why don’t you FUCKING LOVE ME?” 

You tried to jerk your face out his hand, but his hold tightened, fingers digging into your teeth through your cheeks. Your eyes shut closed, but that did little to appease Jack’s anger. This wasn’t what you wanted; you never wanted your wish to turn into him harming people for you. 

“I-I do-do love you, Jack,” you cried while tears traced down your cheeks. 

He frowned intensely, lips forming an upside-down u. “I don’t believe you.” His unoccupied left hand gripped onto the pudge at your hipbone. “I can feel you shaking like a leaf. It’s okay, baby. I would never hurt you.” 

Somehow, you knew he was telling the truth, though it didn’t help you feel less scared. Your thighs rubbed against each other in a nervous manner, and Jack’s eyes tracked the movement. However, he thought it was for a different reason. 

“Oh,” he breathed, eyes widening at the idea formulating in his sick, twisted head. “You want to show me that you love me? Is that it, sweetness?” 

His left hand released your hip and trailed lower and toward the right, and you inhaled sharply when he pressed his fingers to your core. You reached out and gripped his wrist, halting any other movement from his appendage.  

“No,” you stated. “Jack, this isn’t-this isn’t normal.” 

He pressed his hard chest forward, and the cooled blood began soaking through your sleep shirt. You cringed and shuddered when the wet fabric clung to your skin. 

“Your heart is racing,” he whispered in awe. “For me? Is your heart racing for me, sweetheart?” He dropped to his knees this time and pressed his ear right to your heart. He exhaled breathily at the sound. “Yeah; that’s for me.” His next inhale was sharp. “I can smell you. You’re utterly dripping.”

“I’m not,” you argued. “I’m—” A wince turned whine cut you off after Jack squeezed your sides painfully. 

“You know better than to lie to me.” His matted curls pushed against his forehead as he twisted his face to look downward. “Remember,” he muttered, “you wished for this.” 

His hand planted itself in the middle of your chest and pushed you down to your bed, your spine hitting your mattress so hard it pushed out a small oomph.  

“Wait- stop-”

Jack shushed you, his hands, still covered in blood, yanked the sleep shorts you’d been wearing down your legs. Your legs kicked and twisted, trying in vain to stop him, but he had them down and hanging off one ankle despite your efforts.

“You just need to remember why you love me,” those big, calloused hands pushed your thighs apart, keeping them pinned open despite your efforts to close them. His hot breath against your core shocked you, your wiggling and writhing halting for a moment. He licked a stripe through your folds, humming in satisfaction. “No one can make you feel as good as I can. No one.”

“Jack please!” Your hands were pushing at his head, trying to get him away from you, but he barely budged, not even acknowledging your efforts.

“Already begging for me and I’ve barely touched you,” his chuckle vibrated through your traitorous body as he laid kisses over your mound. “I told you, you love me.”

“You have to stop! I don’t want this!”

“Yes you do,” Jack wrapped both of your wrists in one of his hands, holding them down against your stomach to keep you pinned. “You want this. I don’t know why you’re trying to lie to me when your cunt is being so honest, sweetheart.”

Humiliatingly, he was right. You could feel how wet you were, practically dripping down onto the bedsheets below you, your hole clenching and begging for something deep inside it. But you didn’t want this. Right? No, of course you didn’t. This was the man who had just admitted to killing your mother and best friends. Their blood was still on the hands that held you open and in place as his mouth descended on you.

But it was hard to stop the whine you let out when his tongue began tracing around your clit. The pressure was firm and insistent, sending bursts of pleasure coursing through you against your will.

You fought through the sensations, trying to focus on wiggling out of his grip, but inevitably your focus was drawn back between your legs. Jack was unrelenting, repeating the motions and keeping a steady pace, like he knew exactly how to push your buttons. You supposed he did, having been created by some sick force of nature just for you.

Belatedly, you realised exactly what his tongue was spelling out against you:

J-A-C-K A-B-B-O-T

His own name, again and again, all at the same speed and intensity. 

Gradually, your desperate attempts to flee were being tempered by the pleasure rocketing up your spine. Your twisting and writhing to get away had turned into rocking and grinding against his face, using his bruising grip on your wrists as leverage. But while your body betrayed you, your mind didn’t.

Through the gasps and whines and moans he was yanking out of you, you tried your best to keep up the protests. Your increasingly weak protests of “No!” and “Please stop!” fell on deaf ears, until, right as you neared your peak and, fearing what the impending orgasm might do to your psyche, you got through to him. But not in the way that you’d hoped.

“Stop! Stop, Jack, or I’ll never love you!”

He froze, pulling his face away from your folds but keeping his hold on you firm. You were gasping for air, eyes firmly shut. You were afraid to look at him, afraid he’d see just how close he was to breaking you.

“You want me to kill myself?” His grip around your wrists tightened even more and his fingers holding your thigh open tensed, nails digging into your skin. He didn’t let up, despite the yelp that left your lips. “Is that what you want? You want to watch me slit my fucking wrists right now? Wanna watch me bleed out all over you? Because I will. I love you more than anything - more than life itself - and you are breaking my heart.”

“Jack, I-”

“Do you want that?” His voice raised, eyes wide and manic. “I’m all you need, baby. If I die, you have nothing. You made me kill your mom, your friends, and if I’m gone, what do you have left? You need me just like I need you.”

“No, no I didn’t make you-”

“You said you didn’t want to have to listen to them anymore,” Jack stood from the floor, his blood stained figure looming over you as you cowered back against the mattress. “I did exactly what you asked for, and now you don’t have to listen to them anymore.”

You were shaking, trying to look away, trying not to think about how everyone you loved had died because of a poor choice of words and Jack’s instability.

Jack’s hand grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes on his. His expression had softened, the lines on his face deepening as he stared down at you.

“Don’t make me kill myself because I did what you wanted,” he was begging, the whiplash from his rapid change in demeanor taking a moment to register in your mind. “Don’t make me, please.”

“I-I won’t,” you swallowed around the lump forming in your throat. “I won’t make you kill yourself, Jack. Please don’t do that.”

“Then tell me you love me,” his eyes darkened again and the frown fell from his face. 

“Jack-”

“Tell me,” the tone of his voice dropped, practically growling at you as his fingers tightened against your jaw. “You love me.”

“I…”

The words stuck in your throat. The love you’d felt for him from before was still there, but your terror and grief was overshadowing it, making it impossible to verbalize.

Jack sighed, his expression once again changing, this time to disappointment. He tutted at you, like you were a small child failing to follow directions.

“I guess I just have to remind you how much you love me.”

There was no time for you to question what that meant, but you found out quickly. Jack’s hands wrapped around your waist. Before you could even gasp at the rapid change, his thighs were straddling yours, his palm planted between your shoulder blades to hold you down.

“I’m going to make you tell me you love me,” you could hear clinking and shuffling behind you, but it took a moment for it to connect that he was undoing his belt.

“Wait, Jack!” Bucking your hips and trying to push yourself up was futile, his weight and the strength of the muscles cording his arm simply too much for you to fight back against. This wasn’t what you wanted for your first time. You’d been hoping for a romantic dinner with him, followed by sweet, slow sex, not him covered in your loved ones blood as he took you by force. “Jack please, I’m a virgin!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” the heat of his chest, pressing against your back as he leaned down, was scalding. His fingers gently tucked your hair behind your ear, his lips pressing a kiss against your cheek. You didn’t realize you’d been crying until his tongue darted out to lick up the droplet. “Don’t worry. I’m all you need. I’ll be the only man to ever have you like this. I’ll take such good care of you.”

And then he was sliding in, stretching your traitorously wet walls around his length. Fuck, he was thick. You felt every ridge and vein as he sunk into you as deep as he could, until the tip was pressing against your cervix. It was impossible to stop the moan you let out, the noise mixing with his grunt as he ground against your ass.

“Jack, please…”

“You feel so good around me, baby,” He let more of his weight fall against you, pushing you even further into the crumpled sheets. One of his big arms slid around your neck, pressing your throat into the crook of his elbow. 

“You need to sto-”

You choked on your words when Jack’s arm tightened, his bicep and forearm cutting off  your air supply.

“The only thing I need,” his voice was low and gravely, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Is for you to stop pretending this doesn’t feel good, and let me make love to the love of my life.”

Your whole body tensed, walls trying to push him out, as he began to withdraw slowly.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he was panting against your ear now. His little groans and sighs rattled around in your head, clouding your already conflicted senses. “Squeeze me just like that.”

You felt yourself flutter involuntarily around him as his thick cock bullied its way back inside of you. Fighting against his hold to get air into your lungs, your own breathing picked up in pace, each exhale forcibly pushed out when he sunk in. 

Jack’s pace was slow. Each thrust was long, pausing to grind against you when he bottomed out, his head pushing hard into the deepest parts of you. You’d never considered yourself a masochist before, but the little jolts of pain mingled with the pleasure, pushing you even higher. The confusing signals sent to your brain were sapping your willpower. You needed to fight him off, needed him to get away from you, but your body was tightening around him, pulling him in.

God, it felt good, but you had to hold out. You still needed to find a way to break free and to get rid of him.

But it was growing increasingly hard to focus on anything other than the sensations between your legs when your head grew fuzzy from the lack of air and your clit was dragging against the sheets as every move he made rocked your body. He’d gotten you close before with his mouth, but now the dizzying pleasure of his cock had your eyes crossing.

“You’re doing so good, my sweet girl,” his words were whispered into your hair as his pace gradually increased. He never fully withdrew, but his hips were bouncing against your ass as his slow, grinding rhythm transitioned into hard and fast thrusts. “Doing so good for me. I can feel how close you are, I want you to tell me you love me when you cum, ok?”

You tried to shake your head no, trying your hardest to beat back the ever rising pressure of your impending orgasm, but Jack’s hold around your neck stopped you from moving. The only noises you could squeeze out through his hold were little whines and whimpers.

“You’re going to say it,” he pulled you in tighter, leaning all of his weight onto you. His hand not around your neck slipped between you and the sheet. “Say it, say it, say it.”

The first brush of his fingers against your clit was all it took for you to shatter in his arms. You spasmed and clenched around him, your eyes rolling back into your head. Your trembling hands scrambled for a hold on the sheets when he pinched the little bundle of nerves between his fingers. It was overwhelming, the intensity of your orgasm squeezing you so tightly around him that you nearly pushed him out.

Jack responded by thrusting even harder inside of you, all the while mumbling, “say it, say it, say it.”

But you didn’t. You weren’t sure if it was your willpower that kept the words from falling from your lips, or the debilitating pleasure that was rendering your mind nearly blank, but you didn’t say it.

Jack roared in frustration as the last waves of your orgasm faded, leaving you shaking beneath him. You were unprepared for him to rip himself away from you, leaving you completely free of him for just a moment. Your brain cleared slightly without his skin on yours. There was only about a second for you to try to will your still trembling body to get up and run, but you ran out of time. 

He flipped you over onto your back, spreading your legs wide and forcing himself between them before you could snap them shut. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving with every breath.

And, for the first time, you saw his cock, pointing up and out of where his jeans were just barely pulled down. He was big, even bigger than you’d pictured when he’d first slid inside you. Long and thick, flushed red and dripping with your juices. In any other situation, you’d be reaching for him, eager to get your hands on him. Even despite the position you found yourself in, against your will, you felt your mouth water and hands itching to reach out and touch him. 

But you managed to hold back, trying to squirm away from him up the bed. He stopped you before you could put any meaningful distance between you, though, his hands found the back of your thighs, pushing them up and pressing them down, folding you in half.

“I gave you everything,” Jack looked close to tears, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness. “I would do anything for you. Why don’t you love me?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. How do you answer when the man confessing his undying love to you killed your family and then took your virginity against your will? What do you say to the man taking off his shirt, revealing the bloody mess of his chest, slashes covering the skin on his left pec?

There were certainly no words to be found when it clicked that those lines were your initials, carved into the skin over his heart. They weren’t bleeding anymore, but the skin was red and angry, blood still smeared over his skin. The more you looked, the more you realized the incisions were much more precise than you’d realized. Jack specialized in trauma procedures, of course the self inflicted modification he’d given himself would be perfect.

Your first instinct was awe, quickly followed by disgust at yourself and fear at the sight of his dedication to you. But you couldn’t help tracing your eyes over the split skin, admiring the clean lines. It sparked something deep inside you, to see him declare your ownership over him so blatantly on his skin, despite the fact that you still told yourself that you didn’t want to hold his leash.

“All I want is to be yours, sweetheart,” Jack’s intensity hadn’t dimmed, but his anger seemed to be gone for the moment. He sounded miserable, literally begging on his knees before you “Please let me be yours.”

“Jack . . ..”

“Please,” he still had your knees pressed to your chest, his fingers flexing and digging into your flesh.

You didn’t know if  it was the pathetic way he was begging for your love or the devotion in his eyes that broke you. You could tell yourself that you were playing along, trying to go along with it to get away from him, but you didn’t know if that was true. 

“Ok.”

Jack lit up immediately, all traces of his despair disappearing in an instant. The wide and handsome smile that split his face was at odds with the blood still smeared across his body. The juxtaposition was jarring, adding to the warring feelings rising in you.

“Can you say it for me?”

“I love you,” your voice was barely above a whisper. You didn’t know if you meant it - you weren’t sure you wanted to know, either - but Jack took you at your word.

“I love you, too.”

And then he was sliding back in, pushing through your folds and sinking into you up to the hilt. With your legs still folded up and resting over your shoulders as he bent forward, he felt even bigger than he had before, filling you completely to the brim. You swore you could feel him in your throat.

When he pressed fully into you, he leant down, his lips connecting to yours. You didn’t bother to fight him, returning the kiss as he fell into a rhythm. His tongue pushed between your lips as his hips pulled back from yours.

Jack sheathed himself back inside you, thrusting hard and punching a broken sound out of your mouth. He swallowed the noise, continuing to devour you as he continued. Every slow withdrawal was followed by a brutal thrust in.

“I love you,” Jack broke the kiss. His lips traveled down over your cheek until they reached your neck. His teeth scraped over a spot just below your jaw that had you keening, arching up into him.

He continued to work the spot, kissing and sucking and biting until he was satisfied with the blooming bruise before he was moving onto another, unblemished section of skin. It hurt, your skin burning from the contact of his lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything besides cry and moan. 

“Fuck!”

You couldn’t help the expletive when his hips shifted, his thrust pushing directly against a spot inside you that had your back arching into him. It shot sparks through you, the sensation tightening into a knot in your stomach. Jack adjusted his angle to hit that spot head on again and again. A strangled groan vibrated through Jack when you clenched around him as a result.

“Take me so well,” Jack disconnected from your neck. His forehead rested against your shoulder, looking down to where you were connected, but the bulk of his body blocked your view. 

Jack pushed back, sitting up to kneel between your legs. His large hands kept your legs over his shoulders, holding you in place, even though you weren’t sure you’d be strong enough to get away from him, even if you wanted to. He felt too good buried deep inside you.

Your brain felt foggy, the combination of sensations washing away your self preservation and critical thinking. When Jack had you on your stomach, you were being taken, but here, you felt like you were being worshipped. There was still fear simmering under your skin, but it was taking a backseat to the orgasm rising in your gut.

“God, look at you,” Jack was panting, his pace increasing and his eyes focused down between your legs. You didn’t realize what he was looking at until one of his hands let go of your thigh to press down on your stomach against the visible outline of his cock. “Can see how much I'm stretching you out.”

Your body seized, the breath flying out of your lungs. That added pressure made him feel even bigger. It triggered your orgasm, pleasure crashing through you unexpectedly. It caught you off guard and unprepared. Your head lolled back, eyes fluttering as your mind went blank. Jack kept his hand there, pinning you down as he kept thrusting into you, his rhythm faltering slightly as he battled his way through the continued clenching of your walls. He wasn’t letting you come down, giving you no reprieve from the waves of pleasure wracking your shaking body beneath his.

“Oh, fuck,” Jack finally took his hand away from your lower stomach, but you still didn’t get a moment to breath. His fingers found your clit again, rapidly circling the small bud. “One more, baby, one more.”

“No, Jack, no,” you started to try to wiggle away. Through your addled brain, deja vu struck you. It made you almost want to laugh. You didn’t want to get away from him out of fear - although fear was certainly still there - no, instead you were trying to get away from the rapidly building overstimulation. “I can’t, not again!”

“Yes you can,” his rhythm picked up, hips moving even faster against you. The squelching and slapping sounds filling the room were obscene. “I know what’s best for you. Trust me.”

You were chanting; “No, no, no!” even as your core tightened, the rapid build up of your third orgasm contradicting with your words. You were sure Jack could feel it, too. The way your walls clenched and fluttered around him was telling.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” sweat was beading on his chest, mixing with the blood on his skin and dripping onto you, leaving small splatters on your stomach. “Cum for me and I’ll cum for you.”

“Jack!”

You broke. This orgasm hit you like a truck. You felt it physically snap inside of you, the tension releasing a flood of endorphins into your blood. Through the haze wiping your mind blank, you heard Jack cry out, hips stuttering and pushing into the hilt. You could feel the heat as he spilled deep inside of you. It felt like a brand, burning you from the inside out and soaking your depths in him.

The waves of pleasure mounted, consuming you until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes rolled back into your head and everything went black.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Jack had fallen asleep, and you were far from turning over and snuggling into his side after you'd been ripped from the consuming darkness. 

You ached in ways you didn’t know were possible. Every limb felt heavy like you’d been shacked to a ball and chain, and you knew every step would be agony. The bruises he’d left behind would mottle your skin for weeks as reminders of what he did to you, to your friends, to your mom. Staying next to him in bed would ease the pain, but you needed to get up. The thought of waking Jack sent your heart into a panicked rhythm, and you were sure the sound alone would wake him up. Soft snores and grunts sounded from his lips every few seconds. 

Centimeter by centimeter, you pushed up from your lying position. You thanked anyone who was listening for the fact that he hadn’t slung an arm around your waist to hold you down further. Instead of your normal wake-up routine, ten minutes must have passed by the time you stood from your bed. You could not let Jack wake up under any circumstances. You took another glance back at Jack. 

Still asleep. 

Gingerly, you grabbed your phone off the side table and began to shuffle towards your bathroom. You held back the urge to throw up when your foot slid through a puddle of thickened, coagulated blood. With trembling hands, you closed the bathroom door, mentally cursing yourself when it gave off the tiniest click. You held your breath and listened and listened and listened for any sign that Jack had woken up. When you caught another puff of steady air, you pushed in the small lock carefully. Not daring to turn on the light, you powered on your phone and Googled “One Wish Willow Customer Service” and clicked the first number that showed up. 

Your phone rang quietly three times before a bored voice filled your ear. “Hello.” 

“I need to cancel a wish . . . please,” you pleaded in a whisper. 

“I’m sorry, we don’t really do that.” 

Your stomach dropped, and the room tilted. “Please; you have to do something. I need my wish to go away.” Your mouth pooled with bile-tasting saliva. 

“If you had read the back of the box, you would see that wishes can’t be canceled or altered. It’s all in the fine print.” 

A whimper slipped through your lips. “He killed people, don’t you understand? And I’m scared he’ll kill me eventually.” 

Static crackled from the speaker before the guy on the other line sighed heavily. “The only way a wish can go away is if the wisher or the wished-upon passes. Sorry, but I can’t do anything else for you.” 

The call ended, and all you were left to do was stare at your phone. 

A flash of pills or your razor against your wrists crossed your mind briefly, but that meant Jack would still be in your world. And there was no telling what he’d do if you died. You could practically envision the city drenched in red and violence. But not doing something wasn’t an option. You couldn’t force yourself to go back into the room, get back into bed, and sleep like your world was perfect. 

Your guilt wouldn’t silence enough for that. 

With a tight chest, you called a second number and waited. 

It wasn’t long before you heard the sirens wail down your street, and you pressed your back against the door. By now, you were certain Jack was either close to waking up or he was now fully awake. You didn’t know which terrified you more. 

“Sweetheart?” Jack called out, and your lungs seized. “Where’d you go, baby?” His tone was soft and gentle for now. 

You wondered if the blue and red flashing lights poured through your blinds and illuminated his enraged face. Besides the sirens, your bedroom and bathroom were silent. On the other side of the door, Jack made no movements that caused any sound. It was as if he had disappeared, giving you an opportunity to think about opening the door. The golden knob felt cool against your palm and– 

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! 

You squealed loudly in terror and backed away immediately from the door only stopping when the backs of your legs hit the side of the tub. 

“What did you do, sweetheart?” Jack’s loud voice carried through the door in a hollow manner. “Y/nnnnnn,” he drew out your name. “WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO?” 

Downstairs, another blam! sounded and was followed by many footsteps and cries of Police! and We’re coming up! 

A glimmer of hope raced through your chest, however panic engulfed it when Jack began rattling the door so hard you feared he’d take it off its hinges. 

“You think you’re so smart? You think the boys in blue will keep me away from you?” Jack screamed through a raw throat. “You’re so dead wrong, baby. I’ll never be apart from you. You’re mine for the rest of your life. I—” 

His voice cut off from the slam of your bedroom door. Following, grunts, the Miranda rights, and the sound of struggle echoed into the bathroom. You attempted to block it out with both hands on your ears, but Jack was too loud, too impossible to suppress. All went quiet a few moments later until his empty laugh began to stutter out in broken barks. 

You were going to be sick. 

“We aren’t over, sweetheart!” he continued, though his voice was waning. “I’ll find you again soon enough! We’re going to be together until the end of time! We—” 

“Ma’am, it’s safe to come out,” another male’s voice covered the rest of Jack’s taunts. 

You ripped the door open and a sob of relief sputtered from your lips. You stepped back through the smeared blood–a result of Jack’s struggle–and sat back down on your bed. Your spine bent as you hunched forward in an attempt of self-comfort. You gripped your arms with white knuckles, and the bruises Jack left behind didn’t even compute through your twisted emotions. 

One of the officers stepped close to your knees. “I know this has been very traumatic for you, but when you’re ready, we’ll need to take you down to the station to get your statement.” 

You nodded wordlessly. 

Two officers stood in the corner where Jack dripped the most blood while he stood watching you. 

“What the fuck happened in here,” one of them whispered, but without much other conversation, you heard him clear as day. 

“I wish I knew, man,” the other responded. 

Your soul tensed at his wording and the way he tossed it out so casually. Because you’d wished for something you thought to be so trivial, and now look at where it got you. 

Alone and traumatized where you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. 

Be careful what you wish for. 

Gathering your books, papers and pens, you shove everything into your bag, quickly standing from your chair. Your best friend looks in the direction your attention is glued to, a mischievous smile tilting her lips now.

“Oh, I see you, girl. Dirty details later, don’t think you’re getting out of this one Y/L/N!”

You narrow your eyes, playfully giving her the middle finger before you turn and head straight towards Dean.

He’s standing at the very back of the library now, tucked away behind large, wooden bookshelves filled to the brim with books ranging from old as dirt to brand new. You inch closer to Dean, ready to talk to him about last night, but the conversation he’s already having with none other than Allie Hayes, stops you dead in your tracks.

“I completed the assignment, Allie-Cat, and I have to be completely honest, I didn’t really feel good doing it.”

Allie scoffs, her brown eyes shining with amusement as she looks back at Dean. “Oh, come on, Dean. You were this campuses biggest playboy when I first met you, I don’t believe for a second you didn’t enjoy whoever you slept with last night.”

Her words are like a knife to your heart. They’re discussing you. They’re discussing what you and Dean did last night, and Dean called it an “assignment”, what the fuck does that even mean?

Dean steps closer to Allie, his hand reaching out and tucking a strand of her wild, curly hair behind her ear. The way she looks at him… eyes full of adoration. How could you have been so blind? So stupid?

You’ve liked Dean for as long as you can remember, so when he came up to you at Malone’s last night, bought you a drink and charmed the pants off of you — literally — you thought it meant he liked you.

Not that you were some fucking assignment, which you’re still unsure what the hell that even means.

“I like you, Al, I told you this. I completed the stupid assignment because you did. You said if I completed it, we’d be even, and then we could move forward, so why are you-”

You can’t listen to anymore, you make your presence known, stepping into view of both Allie and Dean.

Clearing your throat, you lock eyes with a very stunned Dean.

“What the hell is the assignment you completed, and why am I somehow part of this?”

Dean stutters, his blue eyes wide as they volley back and forth between you and Allie.

You raise a single brow, placing one hand on your hip, waiting on him to explain.

“Any fucking day now would be great, Dean. Why the hell are you telling Allie you ‘completed the assignment’ and she’s saying you enjoyed whoever you slept with. You slept with me last night, so please, explain any fucking time.”

“Okay, listen..” Dean begins, but Allie quickly cuts him off.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t tell her that it wasn’t going to be more than sex, Dean?”

Dean’s pretty eyes find Allie, looking shameful as he says, “It didn’t really come up, no, but I also didn’t even want to complete your stupid assignment and didn’t think about saying anything because I knew what it was for me.”

Allie blinks, her eyes wide with bewilderment at what Dean just said.

“Dean, girls have bigger feelings than… boys.” she points at him, her hand waving up and down while she does. “You needed to be transparent with her, now you’ve probably hurt this poor girls feelings.”

Your narrowed eyes slide to Allie, not necessarily angry at her, but not liking being considered a “poor girl”, that just makes it seem like you’re someone who needs to be pitied, and you don’t want that.

“Okay, listen, yeah it sucks, but I don’t want or need your pity, I’m just waiting on Dean here to explain himself.”

Dean sighs, running a hand through his messy blond hair. His blue eyes lock on yours, finally giving you the explanation you’ve been waiting on.

“I didn’t mean to use you, my intentions weren’t to hurt you either, I just…” he runs his hand through his hair again. “Allie and I started a no-strings attached type of relationship a few months back, we both started catching feelings, but she wasn’t ready for that, so we made a pact, kind of, we called it the assignment.” Dean pauses to take a breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he gathers his thoughts.

“The assignment was basically for each of us to sleep with someone else to prove the feelings weren’t that strong, that we could remain no-strings. You were the girl I was drawn to last night, so, while yes you were my way of completing the assignment, I really was into you… I know that probably doesn’t make anything better, but, you weren’t just a girl I used, I mean.. not really at least.”

You scoff. His explanation makes sense in a way, but it doesn’t change the fact that he did use you. He may not have intended to use you, or hurt your feelings, but the bottom line is, he wasn’t upfront and honest with you. He didn’t tell you what last night was, and that is just plain unacceptable.

“So I was just, what? A game basically? You sleep with me, prove to Allie you don’t have strong feelings for her and the two of you can continue your friends with benefits relationship? I mean seriously, Dean, did you just not think I’d ever find out? That I wouldn’t want to talk to you today?”

Dean lets out another sigh, a look of defeat on his face. “I’m sorry, I truly wasn’t thinking. I never meant for this to happen.”

Rolling your eyes, you grip the strap of your bag tighter. “Fuck you, Dean. I truly didn’t ever want to believe the shit that’s said about you around this campus, but of course, that was just plain stupid of me. You are the fuckboy everyone says you are.”

Dean cringes, a flash of hurt crossing his face before he quickly schools it. “I understand.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure you do.”

Turning on your heel, you rush out of the row of bookshelves the three of you were in. Rushing past the table you and your best friend were occupying, you see she’s now gone. You keep your head down, hiding the tears that are already threatening to fall. Fuck Dean. Fuck him and his little “assignment” that he and Allie had going on. He used you. The fact that he used you hurts so much more than the feeling of being invisible to him.

You rush out of the library doors and into the crisp fall air, letting the first tear fall. You rush all the way back to your dorm room, letting the tears flow as you try and clear your mind of Dean and his stupid assignment.

You huffed a laugh as the two of them started bickering just as your phone buzzed in your pocket. You leant against the wall, only half listening as you pulled it out of your scrubs and saw a notification from Jack.

He must have just woken up from his pre-shift nap. The corner of your mouth lifted as you read his reply.

You: Are you coming in early today?

JA ❤️: Always.

You quickly typed out another message.

You: any chance u could bring in a protein bar for me? the ones at work are inedible

The reply came almost instantly.

JA ❤️: I know. I’ve told Robby they are a serious health hazard.

You smiled at that as you watched the three dots blink back at you.

JA ❤️: I’ll be in soon. I already have some in my bag for you.

You: are you psychic?

JA ❤️: Just good at pattern recognition.

Your smile widened as his reply came through.

You: thank u 🩷

JA ❤️: 👍

“What are you smiling at?”

You looked up to find McKay watching you over the fridge door.

“What?”

“That.” She pointed vaguely at your face. “Whatever that was.”

“Nothing.”

Santos and Whitaker paused their arguing to focus on you.

Santos studied you, her face contorting into a grimace. “Gross.”

“What?”

“I just can’t get over the fact that Abott reduces you to…” She trailed off, waving vaguely at you.

“That?” Whitaker supplied.

“Yeah.” Santos nodded gravely. “That.”

You rolled your eyes, sliding your phone back into your scrub pocket.

“I think the two of you are starting to fuse into one brain cell.”

Santos’ expression went still. “….that was genuinely hurtful.”

You turned to Whitaker. “There’s your new button to press.”

Whitaker’s grin widened as he crossed his arms over his chest and turned to Santos. “Oh I cannot wait to bring this up multiple times a day.”

Santos glared at you. "You're a traitor."

You pushed off the wall, shaking your head as you made your way towards the door.

“Never give your triggers away Santos.”

“You’re still a traitor!” She called out.

You waved her off without looking back, escaping before she could start another argument.

You barely made it two steps before nearly colliding with Samira.

“Oh sorry.” She came to an abrupt halt, the usual frazzled expression etched onto her features as she looked up at you.

“You all good?”

“Yeah um- have you seen Joy?”

“Not for a little while.”

“No worries, if you see her can you tell her I need her in Room 3?”

“Sure.” You nodded, tilting your head slightly as you studied her. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah fine.” She brushed you off as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Haven’t had lunch so I’m a bit cranky.”

You nodded in understanding. “Word of warning, don’t eat the protein bars.”

Samira’s nose wrinkled as she stepped around you. “Why on earth would I do that?”

You threw your arms up dramatically. “Am I the only one who didn’t know they were inedible?”

“Apparently so.”

You huffed, pulling your hair out from under your collar as you made your way over to the status board which was currently glowing above the chaos that was the ED like a cruel little scoreboard.

Your hands settled on your stethoscope as you scanned the board. Less than an hour till your shift was over, at least officially. Which given your track record of overtime, meant close to nothing.

“Hey.”

You glanced over to see Perlah leaning against one of the desks.

“What?” You asked warily.

Her smirk widened. “Have you seen the hot visitor?”

“The what?”

Princess appeared beside her, equally delighted.

“Absolute smoke show.”

Princess nodded towards the far end of the station. “Follow the sounds of Joy giggling.”

Your brows knitted together.

“Joy? As in our intern, Joy? As in the complete antithesis of her name, Joy?” You queried.

“See for yourself.” Perlah grinned.

You followed their line of sight to the other end of the nurses station where a tall figure stood, leaning an arm on one of the benches.

At first, all you saw was the back of a leather jacket, familiar in a way that made your stomach drop before your brain had fully caught up. The man shifted slightly, turning just enough for a familiar profile to come into view. The same hair coifed to perfection, the same self-satisfied slant of his mouth.

And sure enough standing beside him, blushing furiously as she giggled, actually giggled, at whatever he had just said, was Joy.

“I didn’t even know she was capable of laughter.” Princess remarked.

You closed your eyes for one brief, pained second. “You have got to be kidding me.” You grumbled.

Before either Princess or Perlah could ask what was wrong, you were already moving, making a beeline towards them.

Princess and Perlah exchanged a look behind your back. “What just happened?” Princess asked in Tagalog.

“I don’t know." Perlah muttered. "But I think it’s going to be good.”

By the time you were close enough to hear the familiar deep drawl of his voice, Mark Sloan had inched in just enough to make Joy look like she might pass out.

“So, is that the only piercing you have or...?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Still shamelessly hitting on interns I see.”

Mark turned at the sound of your voice. For half a second, there was nothing but surprise. And then his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Well I’ll be.”

That familiar grin spread slowly across his face as his eyes travelled down your body with the same shameless appreciation he’d had years ago, like he was undressing you from memory.

“Cupid.” He said the nickname lowly, like he’d never stopped saying it. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You shot him a fake smile. “Wish I could say the same.”

Joy looked between the two of you, blinking rapidly, as if she was trying to decipher a complex math problem. You turned your attention to her, offering her a polite smile.

“Dr Mohan's looking for you, something to do with your patient in room 3.”

“Oh right.” Joy nodded, adjusting her glasses as she glanced at Mark. “On it.”

“Bye Joy.” Mark called out lazily, watching her blush as she scurried away, nearly walking into a wall in the process.

He turned to you, looking pleased with himself as he leant forward. “Why do you always have to ruin my fun?” He pouted once she was out of earshot.

"Someone has to."

Meanwhile, McKay, Whitaker and Santos had exited the breakroom, not even bothering to conceal their ogling as they clustered around a monitor.

“Ok who on earth is that?” Santos queried.

"And why does he look like he just walked off a photoshoot?" McKay muttered.

“And how do they know eachother?” Whitaker added.

“He called her Cupid.” Joy casually commented as she walked past them.

Whitaker’s brow furrowed. "....Cupid?"

Santos froze. The faint amusement dropped away, replaced by the sharp, dawning horror of someone remembering a detail they were never supposed to need.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” McKay and Whitaker asked simultaneously.

"Do you guys remember that time at karaoke?"

"....the one where she sang No Scrubs at Abbot?"

"No. The one when she accidentally admitted she had an ex at Seattle Grace that used to call her Cupid."

McKay and Whitaker both slowly turned to stare at Mark, then at you, then back at Mark.

"No." McKay shook her head.

"Yes."

“You don’t seriously think….” Whitaker trailed off.

“Oh I do” Santos nodded. “I really do.”

Back at the nurses’ station, you folded your arms, ignoring Mark's attempts at getting under your skin.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh some conference.” He waived his hand dismissively. “Thought I’d take the opportunity to come see Robinavitch.”

You blinked. “You know Dr Robby.” You said slowly.

“Since med school.” He answered smoothly. “Why? Hoping I was here to see you?”

You snorted. “Please.”

“Oh c’mon Cupid don’t act like you don’t miss me.” He smirked as he stepped closer. “You wouldn’t have moved across the other side of the country to forget about me if you didn’t.”

You leant in slightly, shooting him a dry smile. “I wouldn’t touch you again even if my life depended on it Sloan.”

He let out a genuine chuckle. “I’ve missed this.” He gestured between the two of you. “Us."

He placed his chin in the palm of his hand, leaning even closer. "Why did it ever end?”

You pretended to think for a moment. "Maybe because you’re physiologically incapable of staying monogamous?”

“Oh yeah right that.” He nodded. “Speaking of monogamous..."

"No."

"... I’ve heard you’ve got a new boy toy right here at PTMC.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Jesus Christ Meredith needs to learn to keep her mouth shut.”

“Well in her defence she told Derek who then told me so….” Mark trailed off, turning his body around to survey the room. “Which one is he?”

"I'm not playing this game." You answered, folding your arms over your chest.

“Wait let me guess.”

Before you could stop him, Mark placed both hands on your shoulders and gently turned you so you were both facing the floor of the pitt.

His eyes landed on Frank first. “Too pretty boy.”

He guided your shoulders slightly towards Whitaker. “Too scrawny.”

From across the room, Whitaker stiffened. “…Why is he looking at me?”

Santos didn’t look away. “Don’t wave.” She murmured.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking about it.”

Then the ambulance bay doors opened. Jack walked in with a thermos in one hand, his bicep bulging as he shifted the backpack slung over his other shoulder on full display under his dark fitted shirt.

Your stomach dropped as his eyes scanned the room, no doubt looking for you. It didn't take long for his eyes to find yours. You watched as they shifted to Mark, then dropped to Mark's hands resting on your shoulders.

For a moment, his expression barely changed, only the faintest tightening around his jaw gave him away. Then he kept walking.

Mark smiled slowly. “….bingo.”

Your body stiffened as Mark glanced sideways at you.

“I’m right."

You didn't answer.

"I am."

“I’m not talking about my love life with you of all people.”

“Cupid, don’t be like that.” He nudged your shoulder. "Come on, what’s he like?”

“Well for starters, he volunteers as a medic for the SWAT team.” You said sweetly. “So he’s got at least one gun on him at all times.”

Mark nodded slowly, dropping his hands from your shoulders. "Noted."

"He also has excellent aim."

"Message received." Mark held his hands up. "I'll behave."

And then, for the first time since he had appeared, the teasing faded.

"But seriously..." His face softened slightly as his eyes settled on your face properly, no longer performing for the room.

“You’re happy?”

You exhaled slowly, your defences lowering slightly by the unexpected tone of his voice.

“I am.”

“He good to you?"

You smiled softly despite yourself. “He is.”

Something flickered across Mark’s face then, softening the usual sharp lines of his smirk, scarily close to being something sincere. “Good.”

For a moment, the years between you settled there. It didn’t feel painful or bitter or even sad. In fact, it seemed absurd to think that you'd cried over him once upon a time. Now he was just a story you told after one too many drinks, something you reflected on and shook your head, chalking it up to the foolishness of youth.

You cleared your throat, looking away first. “How’s work?”

“Busy, chaotic, dramatic.” Mark shrugged.

"So the usual then?"

“The usual.”

He glanced around the emergency department, frowing slightly as he took in the noise, the movement, the organised disaster of it all. “How’s the ED?”

“Busy, chaotic.” You echoed. “Somehow still much less dramatic than Seattle Grace."

Mark barked out a laugh. “Yeah that checks out.”

“Sloan.”

The two of you turned to see Robby making his way towards you, Jack beside him.

Mark's grin returned instantly.

“Robinavitch.” He broke away from you and pulled Robby into a hug with the force of someone who had never respected personal space in his life.

"A lot less hair since I last saw you."

Robby snorted, clapping him on the back. "The Pitt will do that to you.”

Jack caught your eye over Robby’s shoulder, his expression running a fine line between faint amusement and annoyance.

Robby stepped back, shaking his head before gesturing to Jack.

“This is Jack Abbot, night attending.”

“Nice to meet you. Mark Sloan.” Mark stuck his hand out. “Head of Plastic Surgery at Seattle Grace.”

“Plastic surgery?” Jack's brow lifted slightly as he shook Mark’s hand. “Explains the soft hands.”

Mark laughed loudly enough that several people looked over.

“Oh my god.” Whitaker mumbled as he watched Jack and Mark shake hands. “It’s like I’m seeing double.”

Santos shook her head. “She’s got some serious issues.”

McKay folded her arms over her chest as she studied the two men. “Or just good taste.”

“I second the good taste thing.” Princess murmured as she appeared beside McKay.

Perlah took a sip of her drink and nodded. “I third that.”

The handshake lasted just a fraction longer than necessary as Mark glanced over at you. “I get it."

Robby’s eyes narrowed as he gestured between you and Mark.

“You two know eachother?”

“I was an intern at Seattle Grace." You supplied quickly.

“Oh yes, Cupid and I go wayyy back.” Mark smirked.

Robby's confusion only deepened. “Cupid…?”

You shot Mark a warning glare, which he very intentionally ignored.

“Yeah Cupid.” He answered smoothly. “'cause you know she’s got these little angel wings tattooed right above her-“

“Okayyy you know what.” Robby clapped his hands letting out a bark of awkward laughter. “I think a hospital tour sounds like a great idea right about now."

Mark's eyes gleamed as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was going to say shoulder blade."

“You are going to walk with me." Robby said, already steering him away, “And tell me absolutely none of the rest of that story.”

Mark let himself be guided down the hall, still grinning smugly as he glanced back over his shoulder at you and winked, making you roll your eyes once more.

You dragged your eyes away from him to look at Jack who was yet to move. He watched Mark disappear down the corridor, then looked back at you.

He slowly stepped forward, eyes scanning your figure as he placed his hands casually behind his back.

"Ex?"

You sighed. "...Ex."

Jack nodded curtly. “Got it.”

“Abbot.” You looked over to see Dana studying both of you. “Dr King needs an attending in Room 8.”

Jack's eyes never left you. You watched him intently, waiting to see if he would say anything further. Instead he simply reached into his pocket and produced a protein bar.

You swallowed as he slid it into the front pocket of your scrub top, his fingers lightly against your side subtly.

“Eat.” Was all he said, unable to hide the affection in his voice.

Your throat tightened around a smile as you nodded. He held your gaze for one more second, then turned and headed in the direction of Room 8.

You watched him go, your hand subconsciously brushing over the side that he’d just touched.

When you looked back, Dana was still standing there, one hand on her hip as she watched you over her glasses with an expression far too knowing for your liking.

“Don’t you dare say a word.”

She raised her hands up in mock surrender. “Wasn’t gonna.”

You huffed as you turned, suddenly desperate to busy yourself in order to keep your mind off the cluster fuck that was your two worlds colliding.

For the next twenty minutes, you threw yourself back into work. Every few minutes though, your gaze betrayed you, either drifting towards the corridor where Robby had taken Mark or towards Room 8, where Jack had disappeared. The protein bar sat heavily in your pocket, your appetite now completely non-existent.

By the time you ended up at a computer to finish off your charting, your shift was close enough to ending that you had started to believe you might actually survive it.

“Oh damn, the patient in room 7 died.”

You glanced up to see Whitaker staring at a chart from the workstation beside you.

“The old lady with the chest pain?”

“Yeah.” Whitaker sighed.

You frowned. "That sucks."

“She had a husband right?” Santos chimed in from across from you, not bothering to look up from her own computer.

“Yeah she did, married nearly fifty years."

Without missing a beat, Santos glanced up at you. “Abbot better watch out.”

Your eyes narrowed.

"Nice. Very respectful." Whitaker shook his head, although you could see he was trying not to laugh.

"What?" Santos shrugged. "Our girl clearly has a type."

"Silver foxes?" McKay suggested as she walked past grinning like a cheshire cat.

"I hate all of you."

Whitaker looked over at you like he was genuinely offended. "What did I do?!"

Across the hallway, Jack had just emerged from Room 8. Your eyes met his. He didn’t react beyond the faintest lift of one eyebrow, but you could tell he'd heard every word.

You tipped your head slightly towards the supply closet. Jack looked at you for half a beat, then gave the smallest nod.

You waited a couple minutes before moving.

The supply closet was narrow, overstocked, and smelled faintly of antiseptic and cardboard. You shut the door behind you and leaned against a shelf, exhaling slowly for what felt like the first time in an hour.

A few minutes later, the handle turned. Jack stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. He leaned back against the opposite shelf, folding his arms loosely across his chest as the two of you studied eachother.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“So… that’s your ex.”

“That’s my ex.”

He nodded. "You left out a few details."

"Such as?"

His gaze dropped briefly, then returned to your face.

“Well first of all I wasn’t expecting Mark Sloan.”

Your brows lifted in surprise. “You know who he is?”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Of course you have.” You paused for a moment before your voice dropped slightly, unable to hide the insecurity in your tone. "Do you think less of me because I dated someone like him?"

Jack's brows knitted together. "Absolutely not." He said immediately. "It's just that I wasn't expecting your ex to be..."

Your brow furrowed. “Be what?”

“…old.” Was what Jack settled on.

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “He’s not old, he’s like your age.”

“Exactly.” Jack nodded. “I'm practically from the stone age compared to you.”

“You’re not.” You insisted.

Jack’s mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t quite hold as he looked down at the floor.

You studied him for a moment, admiring the lines etched deep into his face that you’d had memorised for as long as you’d known him. “Does it bother you that he’s older?”

“No it doesn’t bother me it’s just...” He sighed. “I thought I was the exception.” He confessed.

Your face softened instantly as you pushed off the wall and took a step towards him.

"Jack."

"I know it’s irrational.” He said, giving a small, self-deprecating shrug. “I just thought I was the first older doctor you’d made questionable life choices over.”

You huffed a small laugh as you closed the gap between the two of you, reaching up to cradle his jaw.

“Hey.” You said gently, guiding his eyes up to meet yours.

“When I met Mark I was young and overwhelmed and had just moved to a new city and he was…” You trailed off, glancing at the door like Mark might somehow materialise on cue.

“…well you’ve seen what he’s like.”

You brushed a thumb over his stubble that lined his jaw. “It barely even qualified as a relationship. And then it ended and we worked together for months. And then I moved.”

Jack leant into your touch slightly, his eyes never leaving your face as you spoke, attentive in the way that always made your heart ache a little.

“And then on my first day here I met a grumpy doctor up on the roof while I was mid meltdown.”

His brows drew together in feigned disbelief. “I don’t think he was grumpy.”

“He told me if I was thinking of jumping I shouldn’t because it’d be a shame to ruin a face like mine.”

The frown that had a hold on his face loosened just a fraction. “Why on earth would he think that line would work.”

“In his defence, I think he was a little out of practice.”

His hands settled at your waist, warm and steady through the thin fabric of your scrubs. “Or his brain short circuited when he saw you.”

Your smile widened as you slid your arms around the back of his neck, entwining your fingers absentmindedly around the silver curls at the nape of his neck.

“Well, lucky for him it worked.”

The reluctant smile finally reached his eyes. “Very lucky.” He corrected.

He glanced down, playing with the tie of your scrub pants.

“I just can’t believe you dated a plastic surgeon.”

You snorted softly. “Is that seriously what’s bothering you the most?”

“Yes.” He answered plainly.

You shook your head, a wry smile on your lips. “Not the stupid nickname?”

Jack glanced down at you, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly.

“If he calls you that again I may have no choice but to punch him.” He conceded casually as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

His head tilted slightly as he studied you for a moment. “But at least he can fix his own nose up after.”

You let out a laugh, running a hand over his chest. “Don’t worry.” You soothed. “I already told him you volunteer with the SWAT team.”

Jack smirked down at you proudly. “Atta girl.”

Then he leant down and finally pressed his lips to yours in a slow, reverent kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes narrowed immediately.

“Did you eat?”

You winced slightly. “Not yet.” You patted the pocket that contained the protein bar. “I’ll eat this and then go.”

Jack frowned, clearly unsatisfied with your solution. “Go home and eat something more substantial.”

“I will.”

“There’s pasta in the fridge for you, all you have to do is chuck it in the microwave.”

Your interest piqued immediately. “The pesto one I love?”

“Of course.”

You grinned, pressing your forehead against his. “You’re very good to me Dr Abbot.”

His smile softened into something private, something reserved just for you. “Anything for my girl.”

You kissed him again, deeper this time, enjoying the feeling of his warmth seeping into you.

“Alright.” He muttered reluctantly against your lips as he pulled away. “Get going before I end up locking you in here.”

You smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He shot you a warning glare with absolutely no bite to it.

You huffed dramatically, “alright alright.”

You reached for the door, then paused, glancing back at him.

“And for the record, if you’re worried about feeling old…”

Jack raised a brow.

“You should meet my other ex, he checked into the nursing home down the road last week.”

“Very funny.” He muttered, trying but failing to look unamused.

“I know I am.”

“Go.” He urged as he tapped your backside affectionately.

You raised your hands in mock defeat, slipping back into the pitt without another word.

Jack shook his head as the door shut softly behind you, a lovesick smile spreading across his face.

----------------------------------------------------------------

You didn't know exactly what you were expecting to come out of Clayton Emerson's mouth as the two of you were laid up in a tangle of limbs and bare flesh in your bed but it definitely wasn't "Will you house sit for me while I'm in Hilo?" 

Never once in the two years since you started whatever this thing was between you, had he ever personally invited you into his home. 

It was always hotel rooms outside of town or in the back of his Jeep in some remote location out in the forest where no one would walk by and see the Mayor of Honolulu fucking someone over twenty years younger than he was and definitely shouldn't be with in that regard. 

You had even started having him at your place when your roommate went on her monthly "work trips" with her boss. It made you feel guilty to keep her in the dark given that she and her boss were having a full blown affair and probably wouldn't judge you in the slightest. 

But you just couldn't bring yourself to tell her that you let the man who runs this town come inside you several times a week. And that maybe you were starting to develop feelings you shouldn't be.

You found out quickly that you loved him there, in your bedroom, best. Under the dull glow of your fairy lights, amongst the things that showcased who you were to your core. 

He'd taken his time his first visit studying all the photos scattered in various surfaces of your room. The life you lived outside of your little bubble, family photos from a childhood that felt so far away now. Posters from bands you no longer listened to but still kept up for nostalgia mingled with ones of artists that now frequented your music apps and of movies you loved. 

You watched him make his way through the museum of your life, his face softening on a picture of you as a child with your siblings, your front teeth missing but that hadn't stopped you from smiling so hard your face might split. 

Clayton had always been attractive to you. It drove you mad most days. You knew from the moment you saw him that you had to have him in some way. Any way he was willing to give himself. But he'd never been more mesmerizing than here in this room. 

It wasn't lost on you how out of place he was amongst your things. Realistically he shouldn't be there at all, the definition of taboo and crossing lines, but you couldn't help the warm feeling that came over you. Especially when he looked at you with so much adoration and heat.

You'd rode him to madness that night, letting whatever animal dwelled inside you free. You couldn't get enough, each wave of pleasure he'd pounded into your body making you crave more. 

And he always matched your energy, always knew what your body needed before you even knew yourself. The two of you just fit so perfectly and you figured it was why you could never really put an end to things. 

You both had tried on a few occasions, knowing deep down things could never really work long term but it only took a couple weeks of being away from each other for one of you to cave and end up back here. 

But never had he extended things to his personal home. Not even his office in town. It was a line he had drawn firmly when you two started seeing each other. At the time you had no problem with it, perfectly content to be his dirty little secret and meeting up at whatever address he'd text you to be at. 

This was doomed from the start. But you never once hesitated when he called and definitely never let yourself believe that just because he had grown softer in the last two years that it changed anything.

You'd been in his home exactly one time, a few months into your rendezvous, for an appreciation dinner he hosted for the North Shore rescue unit. It had been an eventful but over all successful summer. The death count that year had been the lowest it had been in the last fifteen years and the Mayor thought it was worth the recognition. 

You thought about not going, remembering the hard boundary he had made a few months prior. Technically you were invited, the whole unit had been and it might raise more questions if you bailed on an event hosted by the most important man in town. Deciding to just go in the end, you tried your best to keep scarce and out of his way, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself. 

He had been cold with you that night, his usually softened demeanor around you was replaced with a stoic and guarded one, eyes like ice and face like stone. Only directed at you and you couldn't help the pinch in your chest being on the receiving end of it. 

When he wasn't shooting daggers at you, he was pretending that you didn't exist. Like the two of you didn't know each other's bodies inside and out by then. You reminded yourself that you knew what this was from the beginning, that he wasn't the gentle, romantic relationship type. That the two of you were merely using each other as a way to find release. 

It was all you'd ever be to each other and you had half a thought that this was him reminding you of that fact. 

You had cut out early, having made your appearance and just wanted to get out of those clothes and hunker down in the comfort of your home. Your shower was extra long that night, taking your time to scrub away the day so you could start anew, refreshed and clean. 

What you weren't expecting was the five texts and three missed phone calls from Clayton Emerson when you got out. 

C.E.: Did you leave already? 

C.E.: You didn't even say goodbye. 

C.E.: Are you ignoring me now? 

C.E.: If you're upset I would much rather you tell me instead of whatever this silent treatment is. 

C.E.: Listen, I'm sorry. Please come over and let me make it up to you. I'm at our usual spot. Please don't keep me waiting. 

You did in fact, keep him waiting. Not having the mental strength to face him. Exhaustion was gnawing at your bones and you decided that you'd face him when you were better rested and prepared for whatever he would throw your way. 

Plus, you couldn't really have that much of an affect on him, could you? He was the fucking mayor, a good looking one at that. He probably had a line of willing potential partners he could fill his time with. Your stomach turned to acid at the thought and you banished it as quickly as it came. 

You learned the next day how wrong you were when he had shown up at your work under the guise of checking in and making sure any comments or concerns could be addressed. 

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, ones that you noticed were a little wild and out of control. His usually perfectly kept hair was disheveled, like he'd tossed and turned all night and hadn't bothered to tame it before he left the house. Even his navy blue Hawaiian shirt was wrinkled and the buttons weren't perfectly lined up. 

Something was wrong and you cursed whatever it was for pulling at your heart strings. 

You were loading up your car to head out for the day when suddenly he was there, standing so close you could make out every color that was encased in his eyes. Butterflies started doing laps in your stomach and just being this close to him always made heat pool deep within you. 

"You never showed up. Never answered my texts or calls." His voice was shaking, like he was trying with all his power not to completely lose it. 

"I was tired and didn't feel like talking. Sorry." You shrugged, stowing away a pair of life jackets in the back seat. 

"Then be tired and quiet where I can at least see you." You paused at the words, not used to the man being vulnerable. His eyes took on that puppy dog look and you felt your walls slowly chipping away. 

"You getting soft on me, Emerson?" Your heart clenched at the idea of him caring more about you than he'd always led on. 

"I just…..don't like the idea of you being upset. Especially not with me. I know I'm an asshole, my son tells me any chance he can. His mother too. And I know I was coming on strong last night but…." He stopped, his features twisting in a battle of emotions. 

This was hard for him, being so exposed emotionally. You wondered how many people got to see this side of him. 

"But what?" You prodded, looking at him with encouragement. 

"But I have a hard time controlling myself when you're around. You looked so beautiful and all I wanted to do was throw you over my shoulder, take you to my room and fuck you until the sun came up. Not sit around and talk about the same old issues I hear about twenty times a day. Or about the weather or sports or any of that mundane nonsense. And having you there, looking like absolute sin and not being able to do anything about it made me wanna rip my hair out." 

You were embarrassed by how quickly you'd caved. Telling him to come over later that night so you could really talk it out. Except there was nothing to talk about, you'd already decided to forgive him. 

The sex that night had been unreal. Something had shifted with his confession. His body moved differently, the aching sweetness of his aftercare and the way he held onto you like you might disappear as you slept. And that had been the norm for you from then on. 

"You want me to house sit?" You repeated, shifting your head so you could look him in the eyes. 

"Yes." He stated simply, like this wasn't a huge deal. 

"You want me in your house?" You had a hard time convincing yourself you'd indeed heard him correctly.

"You've been in my house before." He frowned, running his fingertips up and down your spine. 

"Once. And you weren't exactly warm and welcoming then." His frown deepened, his hand pausing for a moment before continuing. 

"A fact that I feel I've more than made up for." He had, he really fucking had. 

"Don't you have people already who can watch your house while you're gone?" 

"I do, but I've been meaning to give them some time off. And I already asked Kainalu and that was a flat out no. You're the only other person I trust." 

"My plan to steal all your belongings and sell them on Facebook Marketplace and Criagslist is all coming together." You rubbed your palms together and let out mock maniacal laughter. He chuckled in return, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. 

"Take it all, my ex wife picked out most of that stuff anyway." You kept your body from reacting. The subject of his ex had been a sore one, something he didn't really like getting into but had let slip from time to time. 

You respected that, honestly not in any mood to hear about the woman he'd once promised forever to, had a child with. It made your chest ache in ways you had never experienced before for reasons you'd likely never admit to him. 

"You really trust me with this?" You peered up at him and he peered back at you for a moment before a soft smile stretched on his face.

"I do." 

And that's where you now found yourself, alone in that big house of his. He'd shown you around briefly, giving you a set of rules and expectations and numbers to the front gate where his security would be. He'd had the fridge and pantry fully stocked for you to use, every streaming service under the sun at your disposal. All he asked was that you water the plants and keep things tidy. 

The seriousness of his face and the professional air of his tone was deeply amusing to you. You found yourself swallowing back laughter and grinning as soon as his back was turned. 

You couldn't shake the look of tenderness on his face or the intensity of the way he'd kissed you goodbye before he'd left. Or the way he said he'd selfishly wanted you here so he knew where you'd be and he didn't have to worry so much while he was miles away and couldn't reach you as easily. You thought it was silly since you risked your life daily for a living but you let him have it. 

It wasn't the first time he'd shown that side of himself to you but it always caught you off guard. Made you believe that maybe he did have feelings for you, wanted something more than just sex. You never let yourself fall too deeply into that train of thought. You knew better than to actually think that would be true. 

When you weren't out on the beach pulling people out of near death experiences, patching up wounds and filling out paperwork, you were basking in the comfortable silence of Clayton's home. 

You had to travel about two miles through his farm land to reach the house, nestled away near the tree line of the forest. The closest neighbor was about four miles away and with the temporary dismissal of his staff, aside from a few security guards, you were completely alone. 

You utilized the massive kitchen, one you'd dreamed of having one day when you saved up enough money to set down roots somewhere. You loved to cook and bake just as much as you loved being out in those waters and helping people. It was in your blood, a perfect mix of both of your parents. 

Your father was a chef, owned his own restaurant on the other side of the island and taught you his craft from the time you could hold a spatula firmly in your little hand. Your mother had been a Life Guard, spent time up here in her youth doing the same line of work before heading down south to settle down and raise a family. She had been your inspiration to follow the same path. 

You'd been meaning to try out a few recipes you'd seen online but didn't have the patience or time to do in your little apartment kitchen. But with all this space, you figured why not? You quickly wondered why you'd deprived yourself of this joy. It made you miss your father and you made a mental note to give him a call the following day. 

When you were done, you'd nuzzle up on the couch and watched movies you'd been meaning to watch but again, never found the time to settle in. 

I could get used to this. The thought was there before you could stop it, your chest tightening and your face heating. You shook your head in hopes it would magically make the thought disappear. Stupid, there's nothing to get used to. He'll be rushing you out of here the second he gets back. 

You were careful not to get too comfortable after that. 

You had opted for the guest bedroom, even though he said you could take his bed. You didn't want to be amongst his things, his scent surely lingering on those sheets. It would make you miss him more than you already did, a feeling you should not be having. Best to keep some level of separation. 

Clayton would check in twice a day. Once in the morning before you headed out to work, you wondered how he knew to time it so perfectly, and once after dinner. 

The conversations never lasted long and he didn't bother with small talk. Just wanted to know if there was any concerns or things he should know about before wishing you a good day or night and hanging up. You tried not to let it affect you, you were used to his frigidness by now. 

About two weeks into your house sitting gig, you'd had a particularly bad day. It started with a stubbed toe on your way out the door, after you were late getting up and it had spiraled out of control from there. 

The waves were violent that day. People were stupid enough to think they could handle them when in reality, they couldn't. You and your team had pulled out a dozen people that day, one of them hadn't made it. 

You took a bath that night. Bubbles, Epsom salt, the works. The water so hot even the Devil would be concerned. You stayed in there so long your body was practically a raisin, scrubbed red and raw. 

When you got out, you decided to do something you hadn't dared to once during your time here. But the events of the day had worn down your mental walls and you just wanted to be close to him. 

You slowly opened his bedroom door, peaking your head around to peer into the dark space, like you were expecting him to be there and catch you in the act. It was empty, obviously, the bed made up and untouched. The glow of the moon bathed the room in silver, coming in through the row of windows above his bed. 

You didn't let your eyes linger on it for too long, you had a mission. 

Opening the door all the way and flicking on the light, you slowly entered. Your eyes landed on a set of double doors and you made your way over to them, opening them to see your intuition had been correct. 

There hung a neat row of Hawaiian shirts, all the same color pallette of blue but each with their own unique patterns. Your heart melted at the sight of them, you hadn't realized how much you had missed them. You picked a random one from the middle, unbuttoning it and slipping it on. 

You didn't bother buttoning it up again nor did you put anything else on. You brought the fabric up to your nose, inhaling deeply and you swore you could weep as his scent hit you. 

You quietly exited, not wanting to linger any longer in the room and padded down the hall to the living room. The air against your practically bare flesh felt good after your bath, your nipples starting to harden beneath the fabric of Clayton's shirt. 

Without even thinking, you found yourself in front of his shelves full of records. Your fingers ran along the spines, eyes moving slowly along with them until you found something that piqued your interest. 

It was on the third shelf that you found exactly what would do the trick. You carefully pulled it out of its spot, not wanting anything to damage it. Slipping it out of its casing, you placed it into the record player, adjusted the needle to where you wanted it and turned it on. 

The intro beats to Hall & Oat's Out of Touch began to sound through the speakers and it was like the music possessed you. It started in your hips, swinging and circling back and fourth to the sound. Then your body began to roll, arms stretched up into the air. You spun around the room, letting the music move through you. 

You threw your head back and began to belt out the words, moving into the kitchen to make yourself a before bed treat. You began taking out the necessary ingredients and setting off to work. 

You were so in your element, on a whole other planet, that you didn't hear the sound of tires coming up the drive, the slam of a driver's side door nor the opening and closing of the front entrance. Not even the stomping of boots coming down the corridor. 

What broke your spell had been the feeling on the back of your neck that you were being watched. Not necessarily in a concerning way but you knew that you weren't alone. 

You looked around, your eyes catching on a figure lounging with a shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed and a smirk on it's face. It took you a moment to register what, or rather who, you were looking at. 

You stopped abruptly, your breath hitching and heart began to thump against your ribcage. 

You had forgotten in the last several days exactly what he had looked like. It was like the image in your mind didn't perfectly describe the different shades of gray that made up that head of thick curls, how deep the lines on his face were or the exact pattern of freckles that splattered across his skin. 

Devastatingly handsome and here. There was no stopping the storm of butterflies raging through your stomach or the fact that being so exposed and perceived had made you wet in an instant. 

"You're home. I thought you'd be gone for another week at least." You barely made out, not able to take your eyes off of the man. 

"Luckily we got what we needed and were able to wrap things up early." He replied, pushing off the doorframe and coming closer, eyes like a predator that had locked in on it's prey. 

"That's g-good!" You stammered, busying yourself with cleaning up the mess you'd made of the kitchen, trying to settle your heart as he stepped closer and closer. "I'll just tidy up and be out of your hair. I'm sure you're exhausted and want some quiet." 

You yelped when you felt a set of rough palms against the flesh of your hips. Suddenly pressed firmly against his front, his breath so close you could smell the saltiness of the ocean, mint and a hint of bourbon. It made your head swim and you found yourself once again locked by his gaze. 

"Surely you're not trying to leave. Not after that show you just put on." His octave had lowered into something sensual and raspy and his eyes had gone completely black. His right hand had moved from your hip, fingers running over the material of his shirt that didn't do a very good job at covering your body. "This looks good on you." 

"It's very comfortable. I get why you own a million of them." Clayton chucked, both hands now moving their way up your torso, past your stomach and ribcage, parting the fabric more so your nipples were exposed to him. Involuntarily your chest pressed forward, a silent plea for him to wrap those pretty lips around the sensitive flesh. 

His smile widened at the action, his eyes flicking up to yours for a brief moment before dipping back down to your breasts. But his lips didn't go where you so badly wanted them to, instead you jolted in shock when his mouth was suddenly against yours. His tongue caressed your bottom lip and you didn't hesitate to part them to let him in. 

He groaned like a man starved, hands coming around to smooth down the column of your back until they gripped firmly on your ass. Your answering moan set him to action and suddenly you were airborne, legs wrapped around his waist as he moved in a direction you couldn't be bothered to figure out. 

You heard the opening of a door and then your back against something soft and padded. He broke the kiss then to admire you laid out on what you now realized was his bed. He studied you for a moment, eyes roaming over every inch. 

"You drive me insane, you know that?" He said after a beat of silence. 

"Is that so?" You blushed, not bothering to fight the grin on your face. 

"You know you do. I can't get you out of my head. Took everything in me not to race back here every time I heard your voice on the damn phone." He had his palms on your feet now, massaging all the way up to your calves. 

"That explains the formality of those calls then." You rested the bottoms of your feet against his chest as he worked the knots out of your muscles. 

"If I'd let myself stay on the phone longer than that, I never would've gotten anything done." He'd continued his journey north, reaching the spot where your knees bent and slowly spreading your legs. That wild look in his eyes he'd get when he had you like this was present, though there was a hint of something else there that you couldn't pin point. 

"Do I really affect you that much?" It took everything in you to keep your voice level while he dropped to his knees before you, hands gripping under your hips and sliding your ass to the edge of the bed. Your core clenched at the anticipation and the way he starting planting lazy kisses on the insides of your thighs. 

He didn't answer, too lost in his mission now. He slowly drew closer to that spot between your thighs that now ached with need. You tried to suppress your huffs of impatience, your hips tilting up in hopes it would speed things along. 

It did the opposite, he took even longer. Switching to your other thigh and repeating the action seemingly even slower this time. His eyes were on you, a small tug at the corner of his mouth told you he was thoroughly enjoying torturing you. 

"Did you miss me?" He drawled between kisses, sucking on your skin in a way that you knew would leave behind a trail of marks. 

"Not at all." Your voice was thick, weak with lust. 

"Fucking. Liar." He growled, biting down lightly on your flesh but hard enough to make you squeak with surprise. "Let's try that again. Did. You. Miss. Me?" 

His movements paused just over your slick center, you could feel the hotness of his breath there as he exhaled. He rose a brow in challenge, daring you to lie again. In no mood to be a brat tonight, you nodded your head. 

"Uh, uh. I need to hear you say it, sweetheart." 

"I missed you." The words had barely left your lips when he descended on you. Tongue sweeping out to lick from your asshole, up your folds to your clit and back down. He repeated the action a few times, warming you up. 

You threw your head back when he took your clit into his mouth and started sucking, a palm spread out over the expanse of your stomach holding you in place. His other hand gripped onto your thigh and keeping you from trying to close your legs. 

You let out a guttural whine, his thumb replacing his tongue so it could plunge itself inside you and lap at your entrance like it was water and he'd walked through a desert to find it. You laced your fingers through his silver curls, massaging your finger tips against his scalp. You felt his groan of approval vibrate through you. 

Soon his thick fingers took place of his tongue, pushing into you and hooking one at a time. He stroked slowly at that spot inside of you, his lips once again sucking at your clit, before gradually increasing in pace. 

It took no time at all to draw out your first orgasm and you didn't brother keeping quiet. You'd still been coming down from your high and hadn't processed that he'd moved away and started his ascent upwards. You whimpered as his mouth found the hard peaks of your breasts, finally giving them the attention they'd been craving. 

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, digging into the fabric there and it dawned on you then that he was still fully dressed, shoes and all. This simply won't do. 

"Clayton." You practically whispered, your voice already starting to grow horse. All he'd responded with was a hmm? against your nipple. 

"I'm feeling a bit over dressed right now." He lifted his head to look at you, confusion on his face until it dawn on him too. He pulled away from you, getting up off the bed with a grumble. Old man, you chuckled in your head. 

He started pealing out of his layers in that same leisurely manner he'd been using all night. You propped up on your elbows, your legs still spread and ready to welcome back, and enjoyed the view. 

You bit your lip once the solid plains of his chest came into view and the path of thick muscle leading in an arrow down to the band of his dress pants. He dropped down in a squat, started untying his laces and tugging of his shoes, never once breaking eye contact. 

Your cheeks began to heat at the way he watched you, drifting back and fourth between your face and cunt, still so fucking wet and ready for him. You clenched around air, that ache pounding like a heartbeat at your core. 

His grin grew, he'd seen it happened and was totally storing it wherever his ego was kept. He started to make work of his pants, still not in any hurry. He loved watching you squirm. Growing annoyed and desperate and ready to beg for him. 

He stepped out of his pants, leaving him in nothing but a pair of tight navy boxer briefs. You could see the hard line of his length, already swollen and leaking. He hooked his thumbs in the elastic but didn't move to tug them off. 

Your awaiting gaze lifted and you found him staring at you, eyes impossibly darker. You began fidgeting under his heated stare, breathing heavily. You knew what he wanted and you were so god damn prepared to give it to him. 

"Please give me your cock, Sir." You pouted, legs parting wider for him. 

"Good girl." He drew his boxers down, exposing the patch of trimmed salt and pepper hair there, your mouth beginning to water. You let out a soft gasp as his cock sprang free, your walls squeezing together like your pussy was greeting him like an old friend. 

He threw the fabric somewhere out of your line of vision, and prowled back to where you laid on the bed. Then he was over you, his head coming down to claim your lips again, your tongues twisting in tandem. He pressed his body against yours and the friction against your nipples made your eyes roll. 

You felt the hot weight of his length laying on your stomach, slowly sliding down as he began to shift his hips. You lifted yours slightly, positioning your core so it was in the direct path of his tip. He slid up the length of you, nudging against your clit. You whimpered as he repeated the action until you had to reiterate your earlier request. 

"Please give me your cock, Sir." You panted into his mouth, palms gliding down the expanse of his back. 

"I haven't forgotten, sweetheart." And there he was, pressing his tip against your entrance but not moving forward. He lifted his head away from your kiss, watching your face intently. You watched him back, reveling in the way the moonlight brightened the color of his hazel eyes. He was breathtaking and devastating all at once and- 

Your train of though was cut short by the cry of pleasure that ripped out of your chest as he fully sheathed himself inside of you. His slow tempo gone with the wind, he pulled back and rolled his hips forward and he was off. 

The only sound in the room was the wetness of his cock plunging in and out of you, the smack of bare skin on bare skin and heavy breathing. 

You weren't entirely sure where to put your hands, gripping onto anything you could as that familiar wave of pleasure crashed over you. You'd missed this, swore you could spend a life time getting lost in it. 

He threw your legs over his shoulders, pulling back so he could watch your face screwed up in euphoria as he fucked you deeper. "That good, baby? You like that?" 

"Fuck yes." You weren't even sure if you were speaking clearly but you knew he was hitting that spot inside of you dead on and it wouldn't be long before you were clenching around his girth. 

"Oh yes, baby. There it is." He didn't stop pounding into you as you came undone. He dipped his head to plant chaste kisses on your cheeks, nose and lastly your lips. "Such a good girl, aren't you?" 

You nodded your head in a drunken daze, his voice sounded distant but you knew he was right there with you, ready to catch you if you fell into madness. He slowed his pace, kissing his way down your throat to your collarbones and back again. 

"I want to ride you. Please let me ride you." You begged, kissing his shoulder. You squeaked as he flipped the two of you over, his cock staying buried inside you. You adjusted yourself on top of him and his hands were firmly back on your ass, slowly massaging his finger tips into the skin there. 

Once you felt you'd gotten yourself into a comfortable position, you steadied your hands on his chest and slowly rolled your hips forward, then off to the left, down, right and back forward again. 

Clayton's hands slid up to rest on your hips, helping to guide yourself against his cock. "C'mon, baby. I know you can do better than that." 

You looked down at him with a shit eating grin. "I don't know. You should probably take it easy, Old Man. I think I noticed a new wrinkle on your face and your hair is looking more white than gray these days." 

He bucked his hips up in a solid swift motion, his thighs smacking hard against your ass. The sound reverberated through the room followed by your surprised gasp. You grumbled, pressing down on his chest and shooting him a glare. 

"I think you're forgetting this isn't exactly our first rodeo." He shot back, his hips thrusting again, gentler this time. 

"Hmmm, I don't think I can recall. But if you're sure you can handle me," You shrugged, positioning yourself forward and lifted yourself off of him until all that was left inside you was the tip of his cock. "So be it." 

You slammed down on his length hard and fast, lifting your self back up and doing it again. You'd messed around with different speeds until you found one you could keep up with. 

Clayton's hold on you was so strong you wouldn't be surprised if his hand prints were visible there in the morning. You came at the sound of him whimpering uncontrollably, unable to form words. You threw your head back, grind yourself down on him as you came back down. 

"Turn around. Get on your hands and knees." It was an order and you could feel your heart beat in your ears. He was about the thoroughly ruin you. 

You wasted no time getting into position, your spine curving inward so your ass was perked up perfectly for him. You could feel him shifting behind you, positioning himself back at your entrance. 

He spread his hand out at the small of your back, the other coming around to draw slow circles against your clit. You hummed contently, nudging your ass back a fraction. There was a sharp slap against your ass cheek that made your pussy clench at the sting. 

"So fucking impatient." He said it so tenderly, like it was a praise instead of the scold you knew it was.

You kept yourself still despite wanting nothing more than to press back and onto his cock. He didn't make you wait long before he bent over you, planting soft kisses down your spine and slowly pressed himself between your folds. 

You both let out a sigh in unison as he sank back into your wet heat. He rested his forehead against your shoulder, cursing and mumbling as he fucked you into near delirium. 

He used his knee to spread your legs father apart and forced your head down into the mattress. The position and the speed in which he was pounding into you made his balls swing and slap perfectly against your clit. 

Another orgasm ripped out of you but you barely had enough time to stew in it before he had you on your back again. 

You could tell he was close, his thrusts growing sloppy and less calculated. He was also getting louder, your name like a prayer or an answer so some unknown question on his lips. 

Watching him come undone like this was your favorite sight in the whole world. You could get drunk off if it, spend the rest of your days just like this. You didn't want anything, anyone more than you wanted him. 

It scared you, overwhelmed you so deeply that you could feel tears pool at your eyes and slide down your cheeks. He leaned forward, licking your tears away before resting his forehead against yours. 

The eye contact. The thoughts racing through your head. The death you'd encountered earlier that day making you realize just how short life was. The fact that he was finally taking you in the one place he swore he never would. The wave of another orgasm. The feeling of him spilling inside of you. It all became too much. 

You couldn't stop the words that shot out of you if you tried. 

"I love you." 

It was like someone hit pause on the world, this moment. Everything stilled and quieted and you swore the violent beat of your heart could be heard through the entire island. 

You dared a look at his face and froze. A mask void of emotion, glacial and removed and looking somewhere past you. 

"C-Clayton?" Your voice shook, the rest of your body following suit and it had nothing to do with your climax. 

His eyes slowly focused on you again, but there was no change in his face. He slowly pealed himself off of you, the loss of him leaving you raw and empty. 

He put distance between himself and the bed where you laid still as a rock. "You need to leave." 

"Clayton." You whispered, sitting up and trying to cover yourself with his shirt that was now hanging off your shoulders. 

"Now." You realized then you'd never actually seen him be cold and distant. All those other times you could still feel some sort of ardency underneath the surface. 

But this, it was like he'd completely switched himself off. 

"Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I just got caught up in the moment." You tried to plead but it fell on deaf ears. 

"I'll get one of the security guards to drive you home. You have ten minutes." He turned and left the room without another word. 

Violent sobs wracked through you, vision going blurry from tears. You adjusted his shirt so you were as covered as possible, his scent stinging your nose and making you nauseous as you made a beeline for the guest room. 

It was like you blacked out. Suddenly fully dressed, your duffel bag packed and swinging over your shoulder. You barreled out of the bedroom and didn't stop until you felt the cool air of the outdoors fan over you. 

You gasped for breath, struggling to get air into your lungs. You heard the opening of the front door and a distant voice which sent you bolting away to escape from this hell you'd put yourself in. 

You heard a car door, moving gravel and the sound of an engine coming up behind you. Lights stretched out around you and you wanted to scream until your head exploded. 

"Where the fuck are you going?" Clayton demanded from somewhere next to you. 

"You t-told me to leave so I'm l-leaving." You muttered between sobs. 

"I told you I'd have security take you back." 

"I don't want your fucking security. I don't want anything from you." It was a lie and you both knew it and you wanted so badly to hit something. Anything that would release the fire building inside you.

"You're not walking home. It'll take you hours to get to your place." You stopped abruptly, swinging to face him. He made quick time in hitting the breaks and halting the car. 

You stepped up to his window, leaning forward and got in his face. 

"I never want to see you again, do you understand me? Don't fucking follow me or I swear to God I will ruin you." You'd never spoken to anyone with so much venom and distaste in your life. 

He had the audacity to look wounded and regretful, his mouth opening to say something but closed again at the silent warning on your face. 

You turned away, continuing your walk of shame. You heard the car rolling backwards and turn around back up the drive to the house.

Your heart ripped apart in your chest as he once again disappointed you. 

He truly didn't love you, wasn't ever going to fight for you and that reality drove a knife into your heart and stayed with you long after you crawled into bed and everything went dark. 

“Hey!” said Samira falling at your side at the counter.

You were still too distracted by the two to even tear your gaze away and look at her. “Hey.”

Samira followed your eyeline. “You're staring, you know that?”

You nodded.

Robby rubbed at the side of his face as his cheeks flushed, Noelle shifted her weight onto her other heeled foot- apparently getting herself comfortable.

“Who is that, again?” asked Doctor Mohan.

“Noelle. She's from insurance.”

Samira nodded. “Noelle from insurance. Annnd do we like Noelle, from insurance?”

At that you realised just how transparent your glares might have been.

“Oh, you know,” you mumbled, finally looking back down to your tablet that had grown dark in the absence of movement. “It's our job to like everyone.”

Santos passed by you then, dropping herself down into your favourite chair in exhaustion. “Not everyone.”

“So we're all having a great day, I see,” you commented, sarcastically. However the sardonic tone of your voice was over-saturated with a loud laugh.

Your head practically snapped up to see Noelle laughing at something Robby had said. Even his face was scrunched up at his joke. You watched as Noelle's hand darted to his bicep, playfully hitting him in a way that could only be recognised as flirting.

You watched as Robby looked down to her hand on him and then he looked up, finding you and finding your watchful gaze. Only then did the pink in his cheeks subside and the wrinkles of amusement die.

“Didn't they have a thing before you and him got together?” asked Santos.

You sighed. “Yes, they did, thank you, Trinity.”

“Hey, just trying to be helpful.”

“Save it for the patients,” you said.

Robby took one step in your direction but you'd already dismissed yourself from Santos and Mohan, walking the ward like it was a battle field.

But you could hear your boyfriends heavy boots close behind you.

“Don't do that,” he said, calling after you.

“Do what? See a patient?”

“It's not what you think,” he said.

“Of course it's not,” you said, trying your best to be indifferent.

You knew about Noelle and Robby's history, just as you knew about his and Heathers, and his and the pathologist from upstairs, and the one from ortho. You knew and you understood, heck you'd even been around to joke about with Landon. Robby's famous seven-week itch.

Rumour had it before he finally got to hold your hand and kiss you whenever he liked he'd been trying to nail you down for years, but you weren't sure how much you believed.

It had been nine months, maybe closer to ten since you and Robby had officially started seeing each other. It was the real boyfriend-girlfriend deal where you could call each other at any moments of the day, could get take out together and discuss the boring things together.

Yet, you did none of that.

Robby and you didn't talk.

You fucked- but only each other. You worked on cases together- strictly professional. On the days where you were desperate there was an on-call room Robby could book out and steal time away with you.

But you didn't remember the last time you'd laughed like that with him.

“It's not,” said Robby again.

“Of course it's not.”

Robby sighed, falling closer behind you. “Well, it doesn't really sound like you believe me.”

“I believe you,” you said. “Do I believe Noelle...”

“Oh, c'mon,” Robby chuckled, like the very idea of them was ridiculous. Like the two of you didn't begin where they ended. “You seriously gonna be hung up on that?”

“Don't,” you warn, shaking your head.

You reached for an exam room door, where a sixteen year old boy was complaining of migraines but Robby grabbed your wrist and stirred you away.

“You wanna argue, not here,” he said.

“I don't want to argue.”

Robby led you out to the ambulance bay. Any nurses stealing a couple minutes of peace quickly diverted back in and even ambulances seemed to divert away. He let go of you, standing away and folding his arms over his chest, defensive. “So come on, tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You're mad because I was talking to Noelle- about a case, might I add,” he said. There was nothing soft in his tone, nothing that calmed your nerves on edge. He said it all like it was a joke that he already knew the punchline to.

You rubbed at your temple. “You can talk to Noelle about cases, of course you can-”

“- Oh, thank you, glad I have your permission,” he chuckled.

“Can you just not be a dick about this, for once!” you snapped.

Robby's brows rose to his head, almost shocked at your snap at him. He held out his hands. “Okay, I'm not being a dick.”

“You are, and it's like sometimes you don't even realise.”

His hands were worn with the mornings patients and you could see the stress he tried to hide away as he wiped up and down his face.

You took a deep breath. “Robby, if you don't want this to work out all you have to do is say.” You said it, un-sure if you even meant it. Un-sure that you could ever go back to who you were before meeting Robby, let alone sharing in his life. In the small moments grabbing take out together and eating it on his sofa. In the mornings where you both naturally woke up early enough to just admire each other before you had to get to work.

Robby chuckled dryly, hands on his hips. “Oh my god, all of this because I spoke to another woman?”

“Because you laughed with her like you haven't with me for weeks!” you argued.

For once, Robby was silent.

You told yourself after the seven week mark that it would be any day now, that he'd tell you you were better off friends; colleagues. Every day and week it didn't come, every month he got more comfortable in your bed you figured you'd easily get rid of him in your life as easily as you welcomed him.

Now you stood across from him in the early morning light of the ambulance bay knowing if he left you now you'd never get back on your feet again.

“I see the way Noelle looks at you, how the others from upstairs do to,” you begin.

Robby shook his head, something earnest in his gaze. “They're not- they don't-”

“- I know, I know,” you said, cutting him off with a grimace of a smile. “ ”I know you don't love them, Robby. I'm just not sure you love me either.”

As un-cultured as you were with your own relationships you weren't sure when the right time to say I love you was. You knew Santos had said it to Garcia drunk one night and woke up with regret pinning her to the bed. You knew Dana and Benji had said it to each other a week in. You knew you loved Robby before you even kissed him.

Robby looked down to his boots, shaking his head. “That's not fair.”

Your heart pinched. “I know I love you, Robby. But I can't watch all these woman over you and-and wonder.”

“Your insecurities are not my fault!” Robby snapped.

You knew he didn't mean it, or hoped he didn't. You knew in the very small arguments you'd had that he spoke without thinking and came grovelling back.

Maybe it was worse this time because you knew it was the truth. You knew these women- his ex something's- didn't get to see Robby in the early mornings and be the last thing he spoke to at night. You knew Robby wasn't inviting them into his self, but he wasn't pushing them away either.

They'd all been quick, snaps of bands on wrists. You were supposed to be something more.

Maybe you weren't.

Biting on the inside of your cheek, you felt the familiar burning in your chest, rising up to your neck.

“Okay.” You held yourself tight, heading past him and to the doors that were already welcoming you back.

Robby was hot on your heels, quicker even as he pushed himself ahead of you. “No, no, no- hey- wait, no I-I didn't mean that.” His eyes were wide, hands held out in front of you, not quite clasped together, pointing to the sky but pleading none the less.

“We shouldn't talk about this now, Robby-”

“- I- we... honey, please.”

He stood in between you and the doors. Beyond him you saw the chaos of the room, the charts being passed, the labs being reported. The world still turned.

Robby's hands fell to your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. “Let me- jus' let me-let me-”

“Hey! You two!”

Robby didn't jump apart from you, he squeezed your arms tighter as the two of you looked back to Dana who rushed out, wisps of grey hair falling around her. “What is it?”

“There's been a crash down the docks, all hands on deck!”

You thought you knew chaos, having seen all sorts of terror and oddities in the Pitt but the scenes at the dock were nothing like it. A complication with a boat, an explosion- small enough- rattled ferries and had them crashing into one another like terrible scene of dominoes.

Heck, you weren't even sure if the docks were safe to be standing on.

There were fire trucks and ambulances that didn't just respond to PTMC but Presby too. Police were corning off the area, talking to any witnesses but everyone blurred in one as you weaved in and out of them.

You'd been sent as an emergency respondent thanks to how level-headed and sturdy you were in the Pittfest. You still remembered how Robby nominated you as well as Whitaker to go with some from surgery, his eyes dark on you, a trusting nod passed before you were handed a jacket and pushed into an ambulance.

You'd already pulled a sheet over three bodies, one of them too small for your liking.

“Any for me?” asked a first emergency responder, you think his name was Spencer, catching it in the rig you caught a ride in. “We can take two.”

“Yeah!” you yelled and led him away. “This guy, approximately in his thirties, head lack to the right, needs to go to surgery immediately. This woman, late twenties, lost consciousness, possible pelvic bleed but she's stabilised, need's a ultrasound.”

“Got it!”

You'd gone through almost all the gloves you had in your pockets. There was blood seeping into your scrub uniform at your knees. You'd forgone your coat to a little girl who took an ambulance back with her mother, trembling from the cold.

A steady, firm hand settled between your shoulder blades.

“How you holding on, Slugger?”

Your heart soared in relief when you recognised Jack's voice, felt his steady hand and saw his easy smile in the middle of all the pain.

“Jack, thank god. Are you here with your team?” you asked, eying the uniform he was in.

“Yeah, we came to secure the area, doing everything I can to help,” he said, the two of you nudging your way through the people, stepping over the rubble and pools of water or blood. “How you holding up?”

“Lost three,” you told him.

Jack looked down at you, the weight of his gaze always heavy. “And how many you saved, huh? Focus on that number.”

The wind picked up, sending a chill over your bones.

“Hey, where's your jacket?” asked Jack, a frown taking over his features.

You chuckled. “Probably half way to Presby by now, think we've handed off all the traumas PTMC can take.”

Jack tutted and shook his head aside. “I reckon they've got one more in them.”

You didn't know how you and Jack had got so close, somewhere along the lines of hand-offs and covering night shifts you just always gravitated toward each other, working well and saving lives. Every daring procedure you'd taken was with him over your shoulder only for him to go and boast about you to Robby later.

Jack led you to Robby, for that you always had to be thankful.

“Hey! I've got a guy seizing over here!”

With your case in hand the two of you rushed off.

The man seemed middle-aged with no obvious wound to him as you and Jack took either side. The man was at the edge of the docks, the crashing of the waves fighting against you as you worked to stablilse him.

Jack steadied him. “Check if there's any medication on him! It might be a disorder!”

You checked, coming up empty pocketed. You fumbled in your bag and tried your pockets before finding the vial and clean needle. “Pushing diazepam!”

With five cc's in his seizing slowed to dull twitches.

“We need a back board and neck brace,” said Jack, looking around to try and flag down anyone.

Nobody was catching your eyes. This close to the water you were out of the way of most of the chaos.

“Go!” you told Jack. “I'll stay with him, make sure he doesn't sieze again.”

Jack's brows pinched together for a second. “You sure?”

You nodded. Your hands remained on your patient, feeling his tremors and already timing his pulse with your watch. “I've got it, go!”

In hind sight you should have thought about the implications. You'd been grabbed and yelled at and spat at in the ED by less sever patients but once you'd been attacked by a man who just woke up from a seizure, dazed and confused and naming you his enemy.

Robby had never been so close to murder.

It took weeks for the bruises to go down, for your hand to heal properly from the fall and you were on bed rest for a week.

You knew what it meant to be alone with a patient, but sometimes you supposed it couldn't be helped.

The diazepam should have helped- you've seen it help- but soon enough the man started twitching, slow at first, before it started to fit and his whole body moved.

He was a strong man. You weren't.

“It's okay, sir- sir!” you threw your weight against him to hold him still, wonder what you can do to stop him biting down on his tongue with the little equipment you had.

The man was mumbling to himself, thrashing violently.

“C'mon Jack, c'mon-”

It only took a wide sweep of the mans arm to send you hurtling back and crashing into the icy water.

The sky was darkening by the time Robby counted off his thirtieth patient of the day. Twenty-five of them had been from the incident at the docks. Only one he couldn't save, two sent up to the OR.

He counted the patients, counted the hours that ticked by, counted every ambulance that came by not carrying you. He'd expected you back by now, expected to have a little piece of mind with seeing you back in his eyeline.

Robby's heart was being squeezed progressively as the day went on, ever since he'd snapped and said words he never even meant.

Every second, passing from patient to patient and tearing off gloves to replace them with clean ones he checked his phone for any update from you.

Nothing.

You must have been busy down there.

But just three ambulances ago Whitaker returned saying he lost sight of you practically immediately.

So where the hell were you?

“Hey, Dana-” he called, rounding on the nurses station.

She looked as dishevelled as he felt, wisps of hair, dark circles under her eyes.

“Can you get a hold of transport, ask where the hell is my resident.”

“I just got off the phone with them, Robby-” she reached over and placed a hand on his, the one that had been tapping relentlessly. “She's on her way in now.”

Before Robby could even wonder why Dana had to hold his hand to tell him, why her eyes were glassed over and her voice trembled to tell him the doors bust open.

“Robby!” Jack yelled out.

He turned, catching sight of his old friend, the greying hair damp and sticking to his skin. He was half dressed in SWAT gear, his jacket discarded and bits of tinfoil falling from his shoulders. Jack was set over a gurney, hammering down on a chest and going in for CPR the old fashioned way.

“What happened? You fall in-”

Robby got to the other side of the gurney and breath caught in his chest.

“She's been down thirty- thirty-five minutes, I dunno, man,” said Jack as he continued hammering down on your chest.

It was you. Blue in the face and eyes closed, droplets of water at your lashes. Your hair was turning to ice fanned out underneath you. He'd been running his hand through your hair just that morning, had he not. There was a blanket, maybe two, thrown over you but your body only reacted to the thumping Jack delivered on your chest, pinching your nose to breath down your open mouth.

This morning you'd been warm, so warm, with a leg thrown over his hips in attempts to keep him in your bed. And he'd been close, so close to burying himself in your warmth.

He didn't even have to touch you to know you were cold.

“I found her- in the water- pulled her out-” gasped Jack as he continued compressions.

“What do you mean in the water?” asked Robby, surprising himself by how calm he sounded.

“She- she fell, or-or something, I dunno man-”

“You don't know?” he snapped. “Why isn't she bagged?”

“We ran out,” said the paramedic pushing you in.

“You ran out?!”

“Robby- Robby!” Dana's hands were on his chest, keeping him at bay before Robby even knew what he was going to do.

Robby shook her off. “What's open?”

“Trauma two just got cleaned up-”

He grabbed the gurney and pushed you into the room. The weight of Jack on top of you trying to save your life squeaking the wheels against the floor not long wiped from blood. Robby was aware of other voices, of people wondering if that was Jack and was it... no... it couldn't have been.

The doors closed behind a team of people all teaming in, stuttering when they saw you.

“Hook her up!” ordered Robby, ignoring any protocol of gowns and gloves. If he was going to get you back he was going to feel the beat of your heart under his palms. “Jack, move!”

Jack slowly climbed down and Robby jumped up next, quickly taking over compressions.

He remembered kissing down your chest, hiding himself there on mornings he wanted to steal away five minutes, pulling the covers up past the two of you. How he was breaking ribs to keep you alive. “Somebody get a bag on her, now!”

“She's- she's been down a long time,” said Jack, catching his breath.

Robby thumped down on your chest, kidding himself with the dull flutter of your eyelashes, knowing it was only through the force of his hammering down on you. “She's alive.”

“Jesus, Jack, you're as cold as ice,” said Dana from somewhere behind Robby.

“I'm fine,” he dismissed. “Robby, you shouldn't be working on her, brother.”

Others in the room stopped, hearing that.

It was protocol family waited outside, that if family or friends ever came in demanding help the same DNA did not attend. They were too emotionally clouded. To invested to think straight. The last time Robby found himself in this situation: blood pumping in his ears, chest tight was trying to save Jake's girlfriends life.

He'd failed.

The only person to pull him back from that was you.

There'd be nobody if you didn't pull through. He'd be left in that pedes room, never to leave.

“Robby!” Jack tried again.

“Shut up and get me some warm saline!”

“Oh, no,” said Jack, walking around till he was on the other side of your gurney. “No, I'm not going anywhere.”

Robby was still pressing his hands down on your chest when Jack reached over, past the bag they'd finally clamped over on you, and stroked back your hair.

“We're gonna get you through this,” he uttered in an oddly tender moment.

“We need to get a central line in her,” said Matteo.

Jack looked at Robby. “Brother.”

“No.”

“You have to move, we need to get a line in her.”

Robby knew that. He knew so much as a doctor, as chief attending. But he couldn't stop, he physically couldn't bring himself to.

“Robby, man, you gotta let go.”

“I can't... I can't... I can't...” he said. The only thing keeping him sane was the one, two, three, four count in his head, was the cold feeling of your flesh under his hands. “Push three milligrams of epi.”

Jack huffed in frustration, probably the only thing keeping him warm. He marched around your bed to his side. “Robby, so help me god I will drag you out of here if you don't let her go!”

“I can't!” he yelled.

It was selfish but Robby had some how convinced himself he could be selfish with you. He could hold on tighter in the mornings and let you go for the rest of the day. He could watch patients get close to you because he knew it was him who got to kiss you. He could hold back the worst parts of himself to keep you, no matter how much it tore him apart to push you away on the days he wanted to be closest.

No, Robby could never let you go.

If you ever tried to leave him, he'd hold on tighter.

Robby dropped his voice low. “I can't.”

Jack took in a slow breath, a gentle hand on Robby's bicep. “Okay. Okay. You don't have to let her go... but to save her you have to move aside.”

A monitor somewhere in the room beeped.

Slowly, Robby moved from your chest.

The people swarmed you. Someone cut into you, getting a central line in on your other side.

Robby stayed where he was, a hand holding yours tightly as if he could squeeze his own life into yours. He cried- maybe loudly- at the feel of how cold you were.

“What's her temp?” asked Jack.

“Eighty.”

Robby looked up to the monitor reading your vitals. “That's- that's too low.”

“We're getting her warmed up.”

“Get the warm saline.”

“We are.”

Robby leaned over you once the line was placed, brushing back your hair and trying desperately to ignore how cold you were. “You're not dead, you're not,” he said, low for you. Your vitals may have been saying different. “You're not dead.”

“Doctor Robby-”

“Please,” he begged with trembling lips. “Please, don't do this to me.”

A monitor sung low and dry. The classic song of a flatline.

His head jerked up.

Jack caught his stupor and pushed him from you, sending him into Dana's ready hold. “She's going into V-fib!”

Dana held Robby. Physically she wasn't strong enough to hold him back but Robby wasn't strong enough to fight against her. “Robby... Robby, c'mon, let's wait outside.”

He was shaking his head.

“Panels, charge to three hundred!” called out Jack.

Dana had just managed to push him out the doors as he shouted clear!

Through the glass Robby watched your body jerk but not respond.

“Please, please, please,” he uttered. His back hit the nurses station, his knees giving out as he slowly slid and sank to the floor.

“Okay, okay,” muttered Dana, falling with him and holding him there.

The Pitt seemed to stand still at the sight of their boss, white faced and hands trembling, brushing back his hair. Noise travelled quick, that it was you in the bed, ribs breaking from compressions, chest hurting from the shock.

Robby's hands clasped in front of him, his star of David chain clenched in his hands. “Please.... she can't do this to me, please.”

Dana tugged on his body, bringing him in closer. With her sharp gaze she pushed everyone else that dared try and get closer away. “C'mon, Robby, she's strong, you know that. And stubborn like hell, huh?”

Robby nodded along with her words, un-sure if he could believe it.

“Charge again, three hundred, let's go!” called Jack, rubbing the panels before everyone backed up. “Clear!”

There was a small beep, a pick up in the line.

“There! Resume compressions!”

“Doctor Robby!” Santos ran up, her gown like a cape around her. She slowed to a stop in front of the two slumped. “Dana. Dana, is it- is it true, is it?”

Robby looked up, tear stained cheeks red.

“Yeah, kid,” said Dana, sadly.

Santo's jaw trembled before she shook her head in resolute, saying one simple word. No. Then she stormed into the room.

Robby knew you favoured Santos and somewhere along the way Robby had come to look for her when an interesting case came in. He came to favour the way you smiled at Santos when she did things right and Robby searched for any smile he could get from you.

So, he pushed himself up on shaky legs and followed her in- back into the chaos that was your room. The blankets had slipped from your body in the shocks and he desperately tried to hold himself back from fixing them.

“Doctor Abbot-” said a nurse or a intern or someone in the room. “It's been thirty minutes.”

“Hold compressions.”

Robby knew it was to check your pulse but he winced when they paused, when your body didn't respond.

“Still asystole, resume compressions.” Jack caught Robby's gaze.

He'd seen that look on Jack's face. Had seen the hopelessness and the devastation at losing a patient not only in his face but in his own reflection. “Don't-”

Jack lowered his head. “Robby.”

“No, Jack, her temp is not up! She's cold,” he said, walking back around the room. He rolled his shoulders back, pulling on gloves. If nobody else was going to save you he would. “She is not dead! She's not- She's not dead till she's warm and dead! Push another round of epi!”

Matteo jumped at the chance.

Jack stood by Robby's side. “Just... prepare yourself, okay? She's been down a long time. She might not come back from this.”

Robby glanced back at him. “She will.”

“And even if she did-”

Robby cut him off. “She will.”

They couldn't send you up to the OR- there was nothing surgical to do. They couldn't send you to the ICU- you weren't stable. They could work on you for hours, in the pitts of hell.

Robby didn't stop Jesse from compressions but he leant over you, leaning his lips into your forehead. “You'll come back, you have to come back.”

“What's her temp?”

“We're up to eighty-eight.”

“When was our last epi?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“Push again.”

At some point Santos pushed her through the crowd, taking compressions from Jesse who she deemed weak-armed.

“Doctor Santos-” said Jack, the only one seeing this for what it was. A disaster. One more emotional person in the room wasn't going to help. If you woke you might just choke on tears from them all.

“I can do it,” she argued, nodding to the night attending. “I can do it.”

Santos was as stubborn as you. If anyone might have been able to beat her heart into beating, it would be her.

Robby leant over you. Robby could feel your skin cold against his lips and he pet back any bit of you he could reach, trying to warm you. He caught Jack's tired gaze, his lifeless stare like he was already grieving you. “I never told her I love her, Jack.”

“Get an APG,” said Santos.

Jack clasped his shoulder. “Tell her now.”

Robby looked back down to you, past the bag pushing your breath, through Santos keeping your heart beat. He kissed your forehead. “I-” he chocked on the words. He couldn't remember a time where he'd said it and meant it like he does now.

He knew Jack was giving him a way out. He knew Jack was giving him the chance to live with no regrets.

But Robby would regret not dying with you if you didn't make it.

There was a silence throughout the room, not even the beating of a monitor keeping him sane.

Robby's hot tears hit your cheeks.

“Temp?”

“Up to neinty.”

“Halt compressions.”

Santos paused.

Nothing.

Then a shrill beeping.

If Robby thought it was life he was going to be souly mistaken.

“She's in V-fib again!”

Robby backed away, tucking his head down to his chest as he watched Jack get the panels, rub the gel on.

“Charge to three hundred- clear!”

Your body jolted again, blankets slipping down your bare body and Robby suddenly wanted to cover you, wanted to pull every tube keeping you alive out and just hold you. Warm or cold. He just wanted to hold you.

“Again, charge. Clear!”

There was a silence. Maybe you were so angry at him you were proving a point by dying. You were a good swimmer. Why didn't you swim?

Everyone in the room paused, seeming to wait for someone to call it.

Jack looked at Robby.

“No,” he said, pushing past everyone.

“Robby-” interjected Jack.

He snatched the panels from Jack. “Charge again, three hundred-”

“-Robby-”

“I said charge again!”

The room was heavy as Jesse moved to do so, charging them up.

“Clear!”

Your body jerked again, violent. Your face remained peaceful, Santos remained off to the side, waiting for orders, waiting to know. Everyone else was looking to each other, silently deciding who would be the one to drag Robby away from your body.

“Wait- there!”

In the middle of them all there sat a pick up in your heart.

The room jumped into discussion about how to carry on, about how to keep the momentum going while Robby pressed his stethoscope into his ears and the other down on you. He listened, catching the beat of your heart.

“She's warm, she's warm and she's alive,” said Jack with a smile.

You were dreaming. It was a sweet sort of thing.

It was a warm body blanketing you and hands holding you. It was lips you knew pressing along you and drawing out pleasure. There were three tiny words spoken into flesh.

It was Robby, his head laid upon your chest in your bed and mumbling the words, tracing every letter over your ribs. When you reached for his hair, when you tried to say the words again you coughed up water instead. You clawed at your throat. You chocked in panic-

Then there was a beeping bringing you out of sweet dreams.

“Hey, hey. Honey? Honey, can you look at me?” a warm hand was running over your head, pushing back your hair. “Open your eyes.”

You tried to. They felt heavy. Sleep heavy.

But someone was coaxing you through it, holding your hand and brushing back your hair.

“Yeah, there we go... there we go, hey.”

The lights were bright, almost painfully so as they blared in your eyes. It took you a couple blinks to get them right but when you did there was a dark shadow looming over you, blocking out the lights.

There was the ragged pull of a beard and the slope of a well known nose.

You breathed in and smelt burnt coffee and hand sanitiser. “Robby?”

He smiled, crows feet at his eyes. “Hey, honey.”

You pushed up your arm, finding it oddly weak like it had been weighted down. You found an IV down in your arm. The white lights... the white walls and the IV all made slow sense.

“Wh-what?”

“Easy, easy.” Robby grabbed at your arms, holding you. He helped you sit up, reaching over and plumping your pillow and holding you there.

Only when you heard the monitor calming down and felt the pain lessen did Robby let you go, perching close on the bed next to you and grabbing your hand again.

“What happened?” you asked, finding your throat parched.

Robby sighed, pulling your hand into your lap. “There was an accident at the docks. You went with the responders to help. Your patient had a seizure and...”

You remembered the dock, the wind cold and the yells. You remembered Jack was there and the patient, he was seizing. “What happened to him?” you asked.

Robby stared at you, a small shake in his head as his brows pinched together.

“The seizing, the patient.”

There was a small look of disbelief, a soft smile creasing his chapped lips.

“What?”

His smile turned sharp with affection as he looked down. Your hand, engulfed in his, was pressed to his lips. He stayed like that as the scenes played in his head and the smile slowly started to fall. “You were brought in, your body temp was eighty. Jack was- was doing compressions. We- we had to shock you, so much, you don't- ” Robby sighed out a shaky breath. “You don't know what it was like.”

The dock, the bodies, Jack. The bite of cold water like a thousand daggers piercing into your skin. You had gasped for breath, limbs flailing.

It had felt like dying.

“Oh.”

You rubbed at your chest, pain blooming.

“You might be a bit burnt, from the shocks. And we were- we did compressions for a while so you broke a rib,” he said, chocking down a cry.

You squeezed his hand. “We?”

He nodded, chin tucked into his chest. His lips were pursed.

You'd seen Robby cry before, in shades of red face and clenched palms and always trying to hide it away. But you'd never seen him try to hide away as much as he was now. Your hand escaped his hold, caressing down his cheek.

“Robby.... hey....”

His lips puckered to your palm, pressing a kiss there. His palm was large as he held your hand up to his cheek.

“Hey,” you cooed.

Robby glanced up at you. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.”

“No, no it's not, it's not okay,” Robby took a shaky breath and scooted closer. His arm came over you, bracing himself on the bed. “You almost died.”

You searched his eyes but only found pain and defeat. He looked tired. Really tired. “But I didn't.”

“That's not the point,” he said. He brushed back strands of your hair, kept petting it down in a way you guessed comforted him more. “Jack was doing compressions for almost an hour. Your temp was down the whole time. We shocked you four times. Four.”

Robby's voice broke.

“You almost died and the last thing we did was argue.”

You didn't know what to say to that. The words I'm sorry were already rising and like he sensed it, Robby gave a small shake of his head. “Yeah... probably wasn't the best timing.”

“We're never arguing again, you understand?”

You smirked, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. You could feel the race of his pulse. “Give us a week.”

“No,” said Robby. “Never.”

Something sour tasted it your mouth.

“Because we- are we, broken up?”

“No. No. We are not,” he said sternly.

You let out a breath. “Good. Good. I'd have hated to wake up from near death to that.”

“I should have listened to you,” he uttered. “Noelle is nothing, everyone else is nothing, nobody means anything to me, only you. Only ever you. And I am never letting you go again, ever.” He kissed your hand again.

You smiled at him. “What if I need to pee?”

“You can hold my hand.”

“And on mornings where I have really bad morning breath?” you teased.

“That doesn't happen, you know that,” Robby smiled.

Without any arguments left you gave up, sinking into your sheets with a shiver.

Robby frowned. “Are you cold?” he was up at once, pulling at the covers over you and the blankets. He was all but tucking you in as you laid there, taking it.

“Robby.”

“Yeah?” he hummed.

You tugged at his arm, pulling him down.

“What are you- what are you doing?” he chuckled, lightly.

“I'm cold, you're a human furnace, hold me.”

Robby was on the verge of complaining even as you pulled him down on the bed. He grunted at the squeak of the bed, was careful of the monitors assessing you. He squeezed in, pulling the rail back up as you curled up to the side to give him space. “These beds are not made for two.”

“You'll have to get onto the attending about that,” you teased, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, first thing tomorrow.”

“Meh, I can persuade him, if you like.”

Robby smirked. “He'll do whatever you say.”

His arm slung over your shoulder and rested there, holding your body into him till your head was on his chest and you could feel the beat of his heart. It was just like you dream. Of comfort and warmth.

Robby said your name in a whisper.

You looked up at him to see his eyes screwed shut before releasing them.

“I...”

You watched the move of his lips. “Robby, you don't have to-”

“No, I want to,” he said. Robby's hand was careful as he cupped your face.

“You don't have to say it just because of what happened.”

“I'm not, believe me, I'm not,” he said. “I love you.”

It was the words you wanted to hear, the words you needed to know, the very thing to finish off your dream.

“Robby-” you interjected.

“I love you,” he smiled, grinning wide at you. “I've said it now, I don't think you'll get me to shut up.” There was fake remorse in his voice, a feigned sort of sorry.

“I can think of a few ways.”

Robby's lips were warm and giving as you puckered your up to his, kissing him slow. If you lost your breath kissing him it'd be a hell of a way to go.

Robby smiled against your lips. “That might work.”

His body half rolled onto yours, the bed creaking in protest. Only when your monitor warned of you losing breath did he pull away and check the machine.

“Get some rest, Robby, you look like you need it,” you said, kissing his cheek slow.

There was fight of protest in him that quickly gave up.

Robby looked up at you, wide eyed. “Can I stay?”

You nodded.

“I love you.”

The words he'd given you, the words he'd never forget to say. The words he'd spoken and would never take back.

If he wasn’t saving lives in the ER, he was risking his own. It doesn’t matter that you’ve knelt in front of him, the hardwood cool and unforgiving, as you pleaded for him to take a day off. Just one. 

There is always something. A colleague who has children and needs that day to take them to Disneyland. Or a patient who only trusts him. A shift he just has to cover.  

You’ve heard nearly every excuse possible and smiled like it didn’t matter, like you didn’t matter, because maybe you didn’t. 

When you and Jack first started dating, he warned you that surgeons are the worst kinds of doctors to date because of their pretentiousness. He seemed to have forgotten to mention that ER doctors came in second on that list. 

It wasn’t the desire for fame or hubris that made Jack so careless about your feelings. It was his devotion to everyone but you. 

Sure, he’d kiss you and make you feel special—on a day when he could afford it. When he wasn’t chasing the high of being needed by strangers who’d maybe not even remember his name once he had saved them. 

You know the placement of every freckle on his body, and still, it doesn’t change anything. 

The third glass of wine doesn’t taste as bitter as the first. You don’t particularly like this brand or year or anything about it—you just know that Jack had bought it for today, back when he was still telling himself that he’d be home to celebrate with you. 

As the cap of the bottle dances between your fingers, the metal now warm from your body heat, you glance at the clock. 

Three hours and twelve minutes.

God, you’re a fucking loser. 

Maybe it would be a different story if you were married. Maybe you could forgive yourself for your desperation, your constant attempts to convince yourself you mattered to him as much as he mattered to you. If there were a little bit of proof of his commitment, you’d be able to look into the mirror without feeling sick with shame. 

But there is no ring on your finger or the promise that one will come one day. Jack doesn’t want to get married again. He says you two don’t need that. 

Three hours, thirteen minutes. 

You slosh the wine in your mouth while the darkest of thoughts creep in. It’s just a little fantasy you’ve curated and perfected over the years, and it’s an insane one, but you love to lose yourself in it every now and then. 

Jack comes home. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Goosebumps creep up his arms and neck as he calls out your name. When no answer comes, he runs up the stairs and finds the bathroom door ajar. Light seeps out under it, along with a small pool of water tainted light pink. 

Fine. You’re a little melodramatic. Maybe Jack’s neglect has driven you to regress into your teenage self who also fantasized about this whenever her dad yelled at her. 

Once the fourth hour starts, the wine bottle is empty, and you’re so drunk it feels like time has stopped. The tears certainly have. They’ve been replaced by this hollow laugh that echoes through the house while you watch the trashiest TV show you could find. 

While the alcohol courses through your veins, your eyes zero in on the women’s lip and cheek fillers. It stands out to you like black ink on white paper. 

You wish Jack would’ve been a plastic surgeon instead. You wouldn’t care that he sees women’s naked breasts and gives BBLs on a daily basis if that meant that he was home in time for dinner. 

Once you stand up to get a new bottle, you feel all the blood rushing to your head. Your legs are unsteady, and your forehead and nose feel so heavy, like they’re pulling you forward. 

You find out just how firm the fridge is when you knock against it. 

It’s not like you feel it anyway. 

The next bottle of wine is closed with a cork stopper. You’ve seen Jack open this kind of bottle with that metal apparatus that looks like you could find it in a gynecologist’s office. You have no idea how to use it. So you take a knife and start hacking away. You only miss your fingers by pure, dumb luck. 

That luck runs out when you try to pop out the cork stopper by hitting the bottom of the wine against the kitchen counter. 

What used to be the bottle is now a bunch of shards and a cold, wet feeling seeping through your socks. 

You laugh hysterically and drop to your knees, not half as careful as you should be. Something pierces your big toe, but you don’t care. 

The front door opens. Jack steps inside. And his eyes widen. If anything, Jack has always had one hell of a timing.

You’re a fucking mess. 

“Jackie,” you slur. 

You try to get up, but your muscles protest. 

“Jesus, what the fuck?” he hisses. 

He is by your side in an instant, stepping over the glass carefully. It crunches underneath his boots when he picks you up by your underarms and puts you down on the counter. 

“Baby, what the fuck happened?”

You giggle. You fucking love it when he calls you baby. 

“Oopsie,” you whisper. 

Jack stares at you with disbelief. His fingers catch your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.  For a second, his mouth opens, and you await the lecture that never comes. Instead, his eyes dart over your face, taking it all in—the smeared makeup, the heat radiating from your cheeks, the glassy, far-away look. 

“Are you drunk?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly. 

You try to bite back a smile as you reply, “As a skunk.”

He lets go of your chin and takes a step back, running a hand through his hair.  You let yourself slide off the counter, trying to close the distance again. 

“Stop,” Jack yells.  His arm snaps forward, pushing you back. For a moment, you stumble. Your back hits the counter, and you look up at Jack with a hurt expression. Then your eyes follow his, and you realize that you almost stepped into the glass. A stupid smile spreads over your face.

Jack’s expression falls. 

“Hey,” he says sharply. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What are you doing, huh?”

He grabs you by your biceps and pulls you away from the sharp mess on the floor. You only feel the closeness as his fingers dig into your skin. 

“I missed you today,” you murmur dreamily.  Even to you, your own voice sounds far away. Or maybe only to you? You can’t tell. 

Jack stares at you, his eyes searching for something. Anything. 

“Talk to me,” he demands. “What is going on? Why are you wasted on a fucking Thursday?”

Oh, that one blows.  On a Thursday. Yes, a random Thursday.

You giggle so hard your throat hurts. 

“You’re never gonna believe this, but—” As you pause dramatically, Jack’s eyebrow twitches, “—it’s kinda an important Thursday. Like… really important.”

It’s almost visible how the wheels in Jack’s head start turning. They spark, creak, and squeak as he searches for the answer that’s written all over your face in the runny mascara and that look bordering on insanity. 

 His face falls when the wheels come to a stop.

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

As his eyes dart to the calendar pinned to the fridge, you feel your stomach turning. 

“Yeah,” you say.  Your mouth feels dry now, and nothing’s quite as funny anymore.

Jack looks at you, but you don’t meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” You believe him. That’s the worst part. But it doesn’t matter how sorry he is, because you’re sorrier. To the little girl you once were who thought she’d be happier than her parents ever got to be.

You shift your weight and wince softly. 

Jack’s eyes widen.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.  His voice comes out rough. 

“No,” you murmur. 

Jack pats you down anyway, his hands searching alongside his eyes as he inspects your legs. At the end, he finds a small shard of glass stuck in your big toe.  You're holding onto Jack’s head as he looks at your foot. His ears have grown red. 

“You are hurt,” he mumbles. “I—Lemme…”

Torn between another apology and his worry, Jack picks you up. His arms slide under your back and your knees. The room tilts dangerously—you had almost forgotten that the contents of an entire wine bottle were coursing through your veins. 

“Rollercoaster,” you whisper.

He shushes you as he carries you to the upstairs bathroom where you keep the first aid kit.  The bright, white light flickers to life and hurts your eyes, making you groan. Jack only glances at you with more concern before he sets you down on the bathroom counter. 

“Hold still,” he instructs.  His arms keep you in place for a few seconds, like he is trying to show your body how to keep balance. “Don’t fall, please,” he adds, a little gentler. 

Then he crouches down, grunting a little as his knee pops. Somewhere through the haze of the wine, you remember that he just worked for sixteen hours. But then again, it’s your anniversary, and your empathy for his exhaustion is outweighed by your own misery. By far.

 He finds the first aid kit and takes a pair of tweezers before he catches your foot with his other hand. 

“It’s not too deep,” he says quietly. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t feel it until you moved.”

Yeah, you think to yourself, that’s definitely why. 

“Spoken like the doctor you are,” you answer. 

Jack looks up at you for a second, his lips pressed together. He murmurs something you don’t quite catch and then pulls out the shard.

You gasp as the pain shoots from your toe to your knee and pulls up high into your hip. 

“Ow, what the—?” you hiss. 

Jack keeps your leg still and rubs your shin slightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Not for that.”

The air in the room grows cold.  Jack straightens up, and his knee pops again. 

“I’m sorry for today, too,” he begins.  He doesn’t get very far because you immediately hold up your hand. 

“No,” you bite out sharply.

For a few seconds, you just sit on the counter, your legs swinging slightly. Jack watches, fumbling with his fingers as he searches your face. 

“Can I clean your cut, please?” he asks.  You shake your head vehemently. 

“It could get infected if I don’t,” he retorts.

You open your mouth to argue, but the words don’t come out. Instead, a wave of nausea hits you. 

“’m gonna be sick,” you mumble. 

Jack’s eyes widen before his hands land on your waist.  He half-carries, half-drags you to the toilet and makes it just in time as the wine comes back up, tasting ten times as bad as it did when it went down. 

“Shit, baby,” Jack curses. He gathers as much of your hair as he can save and rubs your back as you throw up once, then twice. 

It’s all liquid, too, because you haven’t eaten in a few hours—you were planning on having a big dinner with your boyfriend after all, as one does on their anniversary.  As your stomach cramps, you think about the muffins that you ordered, lemon batter and raspberry icing. 

The third time your tummy revolts, it’s just dry-heaving. 

Spit dribbles down your chin, and your hands tremble. You’re somehow sweating and shaking simultaneously. Jack whispers and shushes, but you don’t want his comfort. You want to keep drinking until you pass out. 

“Leave me alone,” you murmur, your hands flailing weakly. 

“And let you knock yourself unconscious? No, thank you,” he replies. “You’re so fucking drunk, you’re lucky you haven’t given yourself alcohol poisoning.” It’s clear he’s aiming for dry and sarcastic, but you hear the fear in his voice. 

“Get out,” you rasp. Your throat might as well be on fire.

“No,” he snaps. 

“You don’t care if I crack my head open,” you accuse. 

His grip on your arm tightens. “Hey,” he says sharply, “That’s not true. I care very much.”

You groan and rest your chin on the toilet seat as your head begins to spin again. 

“Then why are you never here?”

The silence that follows is only broken by your renewed retching. 

Once you’ve emptied your stomach, Jack leaves you by yourself on the bathroom tiles for a few seconds. His eyes keep flickering back to you as he turns on the shower, testing its warmth with the tips of his fingers. 

He returns to your side and flushes the toilet for you. 

“Can you stand?” he asks.  You’re surprised at just how soft his voice is. 

You shake your head. He doesn’t sigh. 

Instead, he nods quietly and maneuvers you against the wall. 

“Put your arms up, baby,” he instructs quietly. 

Piece by piece, he removes your clothes. You feel how his fingers tremble as he unhooks the clasps of your new bra, all black lace and clearly bought for today.  Once you’re down to nothing, he starts undressing, too. He leans his prosthetic against the wall and then manages to get both of you in the shower. 

The tiles are cold underneath you, but the warm spray from above keeps you quiet. Jack doesn’t say anything as he sits next to you, his grey curls slowly growing darker as the water hits. He doesn’t reach for you either, but his knee presses against yours. 

“You love me?” you whisper. 

Jack braces next to you. You feel the tension travel up from where his leg touches yours. 

“I do,” he murmurs. 

You swallow hard. “Then why do you never choose me?”

To say you were nervous for your first day at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center was an understatement. As you waited for your shift to start, you couldn’t stop rocking on your heels with your hands held behind your back, fingers twisting at your wedding ring, as you waited near the nurses’ station promptly at 6:55 am. 

The ED bustled around the small, eager and probably equally nervous group that you were a part of. To your left, a brunette woman and a blond man held similar poses while a raven-haired, dark-skinned girl took the place next to your right, looking almost too young to be there. The urge to introduce yourself to the other three was swiftly put on hold when a rather tall, sad-looking man, probably your new attending, Dr. Robby, approached while talking to what you would call already-veteran doctors. 

“Alright folks, listen up,” Robby announced before stopping. “As you can see, we have some new faces this morning. Starting with second-year resident Doctor Melissa King, fresh from the V.A.” 

The happy-looking blond woman next to him smiled and slightly waved her hands. “Everybody calls me Mel. I’m super happy to be here.” 

He nodded sat her before looking at your group. “And one new intern, three med students.”

You pursed your lips, waiting for him to start the introductions, but apparently it seemed like he had other ideas. He crossed his arms and continued to stare expectantly. 

“This is where you introduce yourselves.” 

Again, none of you spoke until the brunette to your left spoke up. “Trinity Santos. Intern.” 

The raven-haired girl went next. “Victoria Javadi, M.S. Three.” 

Then the blond. “Dennis Whitaker, M.S. Four.” 

And that left you to finish out the group, finger still spinning your ring with nervousness. “Y/n Cody. Also M.S. Four.” 

A redheaded woman with a fringe leaned over to a brunet male. “Would you look at that rock,” she whispered, but her voice carried enough that you were able to hear it. 

You bashfully put your hands behind your back again. It wasn’t like you weren’t proud to be married, but the unwanted attention had you shrinking into yourself. Thankfully though, their eyes shifted away from you when a bleach blond older woman joined the group. Robby gestured toward her. 

“For you new people, this is the most important person you’re going to meet today. Dana is our Charge Nurse; she is the ring linger of this circus. Do what she says, when she says it. Now, as you can see, the house is always packed.” 

Your eyes drifted from the attending to look around. However, because of the motion, you weren’t able to get a good look at the person who spoke next. 

“The ER is the gift that keeps on giving.” 

Robby’s voice filled your ears again. “Most of our department is clogged up with boarders. Those are the admitted patients waiting for a room upstairs, sometimes for days. Beds are a precious commodity, so be quick and efficient with your workups. Half of your cases will be discharged from chairs. And while we treat the sicker patients back here, keep an eye on the waiting room to be sure no one’s about to die out there.” He turned to Dana. “Ready to rock and roll?” 

Dana smiled. “To quote Wu-Tang, Bring the mother fuckin’ ruckus.” 

Robby turned to the residents, and you finally turned your eyes back to him. 

“Senior residents got sign outs?” he asked. 

Two of them—the brunet man and a dark-skinned woman—nodded, their hands both holding tablets. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” Robby said before turning away, already moving further into the department. 

He quickly began to integrate your group into their daily routine. First stop was an exhausted-looking mother holding an even louder and exhausted-sounding baby. You kept quiet while they worked, wanting to more take in everything instead of jumping the gun and calling the wrong diagnoses. After Dana walked away to get some Nair for the baby’s hair tourniquet, Robby continued on, each of you following him like a lost duckling. 

After the small moments of calm in the morning, the following hours ascended into madness. The first traumas had been a woman who’d been pushed down onto subway tracks and ended up with a degloved foot. The second adjacent trauma had been the man who’d tried to save her life. 

During the procedure to reset the woman’s foot, you were unfortunate enough to be closest to Victoria, who had been looking sick since the wrapping came off. Not wanting her to hit the ground, you stepped into her freefall and stuck your arms under hers, keeping her semi-upright while she became dead weight. 

Trinity looked over with a smirk. “Med students are playing dominos.” 

“Just didn’t want her to hit her head,” you grunted, easing her down until she was flat on the ground. “That’d be too much paperwork that I absolutely do not want to deal with on the first day.” 

An echo of “preach” followed your statement. 

“You’re certainly a good catch, slugger,” Trinity quipped. “Ever think about playing for the Pirates? I’ve heard their outfield has been struggling this season.” 

You shook your head and flashed her a sarcastic smile. “Sadly, I think my hand eye coordination is better for catching my peers instead of balls flying at 90 miles an hour. And I really don’t think my husband would been too keen on me switching careers this fast after one day.” 

You knew she wanted to say something back, maybe ask a question or throw another snarky remark, but you were quickly called away to help another resident. 

By noon, your brain was quickly getting overwhelmed with the sheer number of patients in the halls and the number still waiting to be seen. Thankfully, charting gave you a small moment to catch your breath, the tying quickly getting your mind off the panic that’d been building for a small while. While you sat there, you wished your phone would buzz even though you knew you wouldn’t. 

Andrew was out for the day, and that normally meant you wouldn’t see him until you got home after shift. But that was fine; you really didn’t need any distractions on your first day, mind too focused on making a good enough impression that they might consider you for residency after you graduated. 

The thought had you sighing, which somehow caught the attention of Dana just behind you. 

“Why the loud sigh, hun?” she asked, coming into your line of sight. “Shift treating you that bad already?” 

You winced, smile slightly slanted as you met her gray eyes. “It is bad I’m already ready for it to be over?” 

She smiled sympathetically. “Welcome to emergency medicine. This is how it’ll probably be for the rest of your time here.” 

“Should have gone into cosmetology then,” you joked. “Maybe the assholes there would be different than the assholes here.” 

“Ha!” Dana barked, hand coming down gently on your shoulder. “I like you, kid.” She turned back towards her board. “So, what’s your story. Why you here?” Her accented twang sounded lovely in your ears, comforting you in a way. 

“My husband, actually. We needed a fresh start; Pittsburg seemed like a good enough place to do so. We just moved from California.” 

She cocked her head. “Beaches not enticing enough for you to stay?” 

“I’m more of a mountains girl,” you responded. “Plus, I didn’t pick here. My first thought would have been Kentucky. But the gloom here was enough to satiate me.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you here. The Pitt can’t be a teaching hospital without people to teach.” 

You folded your hands on the desk. “I’m excited to learn.” 

Apparently, that had her handing you a tablet. “Then Room 4 is all yours, slugger.” 

A groan rumbled your chest as you stood. “Did Santos already blab about that?” 

“News travels fast everywhere, but it travels even faster in a hospital.” She tuned back towards her board. “Better get to your patients. Robby’s available for when you need him or find Samira; she’s probably looking for someone to help.” 

You looked down at the tablet. “Thank you, Dana.” 

“Don’t mention it, hun. It’s my job.” 

Your eyes trailed the tablet as you left the hub in search for your new attending or one of the senior residents. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for you to find Samira, the tablet still clutched to your front. 

“Dr. Mohan?” you asked as you walked up to her. “Dana handed me the chart for Room 4, and I was wondering if I could tag along with you for it?” 

“Samira is just fine.” Her deep brown eyes gleamed, matching her shining smile. “But sure! Mrs. Thompson is one of our regulars,” she began while walking in the direction of the room. “Her husband died a couple of months ago, and she has a history of OCD and hypochondria.” 

You hummed. “So for her, do you normally listen and bring her down?” 

“We at least try to. Sometimes we’ll give her plain saline but say it’s a medication so she believes she’s getting treatment.” 

“Isn’t that lying though?” you asked with pinched brows. 

Samira, in return, gave you an understanding look. “That’s just sometimes the best thing for her when she gets stuck inside her head.” She gave one knock on the door before entering with a large gin. “Hi, Mrs. Thompson. I’m Dr. Mohon, and we have one of our med students here if you’re comfortable with that.” 

Mrs. Thompson was exactly how you imagined her: graying hair, wide and scared eyes that roamed the room, and nervous hands that rested on her skirted lap. You stayed next to the door just in case she asked for you to step out. 

“No, that’s fine,” she answered, looking right at you. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” you answered before pulling the privacy curtain shut. 

You stayed close to Samira as she sat down on the edge of the bed. While she talked to Mrs. Thompson, you let your eyes roam while staying alert to any questions. However, once your eyes landed on the small side table, you noticed how the instruments weren’t that straight. Another thing you noticed was how Mrs. Thompson kept glancing towards them as well, and the twitch of her finger had you guessing that she too wanted to straighten them. Without saying anything, you shuffled quietly over and rearranged them from shortest to largest, also making sure that they were evenly spaced out while staying as straight as possible. When they were to your liking, you stepped back behind Samira in time to see Mrs. Thomspon take a large inhale, her shoulders relaxing just a bit more as she went over why she was in today. 

It wasn’t until you left the room that Samira put a hand on your shoulder. 

“What was with the instruments?” she asked. “

You took another glance back at the room. “You said Mrs. Thompson has a history of OCD, and she kept looking over at them. Her fingers would twitch each time she did. I thought I’d just go ahead and put them in order, thinking she might be able to focus more on what you were saying instead of overthinking about them.” 

Samira cocked her head. “Oh; I didn’t think about that. Great catch then.” 

“What did Slugger catch this time?” Trinity asked as she walked right up to the two of you, hands deep in her pockets, a wide smirk on her face. “Did your patient fall over this time?”  

“Our patient was showing non-verbal signs of an OCD tick,” you replied. “I just wanted to make her more comfortable.” 

“How’d you even know to look for stuff like that? Did you take a specific course in school?” Trinity asked. 

You shook your head. “Not really. Uh, my husband has OCD, and if you live with someone for long enough, you pick up on the little things.” 

Samira handed the tablet back to you. “Like I said, good catch. That was actually the smoothest conversation I’ve had with Mrs. Thompson before.” 

“Glad I could help,” you said. “Should I give this back to Dana since she’ll be discharged soon?” 

“That’d be great. I’ll find you when I get my next patient.” 

“Common, Slugger. Let’s see if there’s any other fun patients to grab,” Trinity said while taking your wrist. “Maybe the next one you can show of your catching skills again.” 

“Ha, ha.” 

_______________________

The one rule you should have paid more attention to was that if everything seemed to go well in the ER, it wouldn’t stay that way for much longer. With only one hour left of your shift, Robby announced a Code Triage alter, and your stomach sunk so deep you feared it’d disappear into your feet. 

“Okay, everybody listen up,” Robby yelled over the growing panic. “There is an active shooter at Pittfest. As the nearest trauma center, we are going to be getting the majority of the victims. We don’t know yet how many we are getting, but we are instituting hospital-wide emergency protocols. We need to move every patient out of here. They either go home, they go upstairs, or they go to Family Medicine. Call you loved ones now if you need to. I can guarantee your cell service will soon be overwhelmed. Eat something. Stay hydrated. Use the bathroom while there’s time and meet back here for a full briefing in five minutes.” 

With that, you quickly turned away, hand already digging for your phone. Your heart clenched at the screen that indicated you still hadn’t received any notification from Andrew, but that didn’t stop you from pulling up his contact and pushing the call button. When his voicemail answered instead, you closed your eyes and sighed sadly. 

“Hey, Andy. Um, listen, I’ll probably be home late tonight unless you want to come pick me up. There’s a shooter at that festival, and pretty much all hell’s about to break loose. If you try to call back, I probably won’t be able to answer. Just know I love you, and I’ll be home as soon as I can.” 

You ended the call there, hoping and wishing the cell service would hold enough for it to go through. Your hands were already slightly shaking as you put your phone back into your pocket, also sliding off your rings so they wouldn’t get lost. However, the moment you looked up, you froze completely. 

Because, for some odd reason, Andrew was currently talking to your attending like they’d known each other for years. You wanted to go up to him right then and there, but your feet kept you from doing so. Honestly, after a few moments, you were glad as it gave you enough time to figure out that, no, that man wasn’t Andrew at all. While they shared the same hazel eyes and muscular build, this man’s curls were salt-and-peppered where Andrew’s was still holding onto bits and parts of auburn. You also didn’t realize how long you were staring, brain desperately trying to separate Andrew and whoever this man was. 

Across the way, Jack could feel a pair of eyes on him, and one quick look had him finding your wide and confused eyes.

“Brother, you hiring med students with staring problems now?” he asked with furrowed brows. 

Robby turned around and also caught your surprised look. “Cody,” he called out, breaking you from staring at his friend. “Everything okay?” 

You shook your head. “Sorry, Dr. Robby. I'm just trying to figure out if my husband has a twin he never knew about,” you nervously laughed, eyes finding the man's ID tag. “I didn't mean to stare for so long, Dr. Abbot.” 

Jack waved a dismissive hand. "No trouble. You were just looking at me like you'd seen a ghost. And last I checked, I haven't died just yet."

That earned a small snort from your nose. "Thank goodness for that, yeah? However, I think if I see you and my husband in the same room, I might explode."

He smirked widely. "Well, we don't need that happening."

“Okay, party people, our first ambulance in on its way in, so let’s get moving,” Dana announced while walking right between the three of you. “Cody, go help Whitaker with the disaster bins.”

“On it.” You paused. “Again, sorry for staring, Dr. Abbot.” Without waiting for an answer, you turned away and began searching for your fellow M.S. 4, leaving the two attendings by themselves. 

“So, do you think her husband really looks like me?” Jack questioned after a short moment while his eyes followed where you were walking away. 

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve seen, brother.” 

 _______________________

By now, you were sweating more than a sinner in the middle of a Southern Baptist choir special. Blood dripped off your arms, your front, and onto your shoes. Everywhere you stepped squished with the thick liquid, and you knew you’d still smell the iron scent hours after you’d gone home. Thankfully, though, the worst was over, and like Dana announced, the Pitt would be opening back up soon to take in regular patients. 

Trinity shoulder nudged you slightly while you leaned on an empty gurney. “That was fucking exhausting.” 

“I can’t wait to get in my bed,” you replied with a groan. 

“With your husband that looks just like Dr. Abbot, right?” she teased. 

“Fucking fast traveling news.” You pushed yourself up, back protesting at the sudden change. “Hey, I need to go change, and I don't know if he's coming to pick me up or not. In the event that he does, if you happen to see him, can you let him know I'll be back soon?” 

Trinity smiled and nodded. “Oh, I definitely will!”

"Thank you, Santos," you replied, hand coming up to cover a yawn as you walked away in the direction of the locker rooms.

Trinity turned and ripped the smock off and pushed in down into the nearest bin. Around her, the ED gave a large sigh of relief, and everyone slowed down for the first time in hours. As she waited by the nurses’ station, she watched a few regular patients start to trickle in, but one in particular caught her attention.

The man was tall and rocked a head of auburn curls that were just starting to gray near his ears. His hazel eyes were narrowed as he looked out of place in his civilian clothes in a sea of scrubs and gowns. Trinity noted the amount of freckles that spanned across his face, and for one tiny moment, she saw a vision of Jack Abbot in his face. Not even a breath later, it clicked that the man was probably one who put that rock on your finger.

Her lips stretched into a smile, and she itched to walk up to him and ask if he was your husband. However, Samira, still in the adrenaline rush with a wide eyes, hastily walked up to him. Trinity didn't even think she knew that the man she was approaching was not the night shift attending she'd been stealing glances at between blood transfusions and saving lives.

"Dr. Abbot!" Trinity heard her all but yell right in the guy's face, voice a little too stretched. "I was hoping I'd catch you. I have a patient who's about to go up to the OR, but I need an attending's sign off on it first."

As she rattled off, Trinity watched the man looked at her with the most confused expression she’d ever seen someone have. His eyes had widened just a fraction, but that didn't stop him from looking around every so often like he was desperate to find someone who wasn't in the room. His mouth parted in an attempt to say something, but Samira, bless her heart, wasn't even looking at him. Her eyes stayed glued to the tablet in her hands.

“Oh, this is absolute gold,” Trinity muttered before turning to the charge nurse. “Hey, Dana. Look at this.” 

Dana’s attention moved from her board over to where the man was standing awkwardly while Samira continued to talk at him. “Did Abbot dye his hair?” 

“Not that I know of,” Jack responded, suddenly appearing at the nurses' station, brows pinched at Dana's question. “When would I have had time to dye my hair?” 

The sound of his voice must have caught Samira, because in the next moment, she looked up at the man like a dear caught in headlights. Horrified, she turned her head and met Jack's confused gaze that had moved from her and to the man she had been talking to.

For once in his life, Jack didn’t know whether to start laughing or run away. Because staring right back at him was a man that looked like him in pictures from 10 years ago. His brain struggled to comprehend until he remembered what you had said earlier before the chaos of the casualty.

"Oh."

By now, the commotion had drawn eyes from everywhere, and everyone who looked over wondered if they were truly seeing double. 

The man, who did look exactly like a younger Jack Abbot, walked quietly over to the station and stopped right in front of Jack, chest puffing slightly even if both of them were the same height. His hazel eyes scanned behind Jack's shoulder before he met hazel hues that mirrored his own.

“I’m looking for my wife,” Andrew finally gruffed, hands curling into fists by his side, and obviously not liking the number of eyes that were on him. “She works here.” 

Trinity stepped into his line of sight. “You must be Mr. Cody; damn, I was not expecting this. Slugger wanted me to let you know that she's changing, but she should be out soon.” 

His brows somehow furrowed deeper, and the corners of his mouth tugged downwards in a matching frown. “Slugger?” 

“Your wife has an affinity for catching people. Baseball might be her actual calling.” 

“Trinity, I told you that I have no want to switch careers, thank you very little," you announced after you walked out of the hallway. Your eyes gleamed when they landed on a very, uncomfortable-looking Andrew and equally confused coworkers. "Hi, baby."

Andrew looked over and down at you. “Hi.” 

“You didn't have to come pick me up,” you said. "I didn't mind driving home."

“Wanted to,” he muttered while taking your hand into his. "Knew you'd be tired."

You warmly smiled up at him. "Well, I'm glad you're here then." Your face turned as you looked over at the small crowd that had gathered; their jaws wide open. "I guess I should explain. Everyone, this is my husband, Andrew. Andrew, these are my coworkers." You gestured towards Jack. "And I guess this is your secret twin."  

Andrew stayed silent for a second too long. “Hi.” He offered nothing more than a fleeting moment of eye contact with each of them before turning to you with what people could only call puppy-dog eyes. “Ready to go?” 

“Yeah. Let's go home.” But before Andrew could tug you away, you quickly waved at everyone. “See y’all in twelve hours!” 

They all stayed silent as Andrew led you out of the ER with you babbling the entire way while he seemed to not say anything, just looking happy to be the center of your attention after a long day. 

Finally, Jack broke the silence. “I should probably call my mom and see if I had a twin she gave up and never told me.” 

Robby patted him on the shoulder. “You do that, brother.”