fangirl.com

When Jack’s phone rang two hours before your shift was supposed to be over, he thought the worst. 

Robby wasn’t one to call him in asking for a favor of an extra shift, always strict with keeping the day shift and night shift separated for the benefit of everyone’s sleep schedule. In all his years in working at the Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center, Jack had only been called in on his day off fewer times than he had fingers. If a mass casualty—like Pittfest—happened, he probably would have already known about it through the small police scanner he kept on his kitchen counter. 

So the fact that no blaring alarm had gone through and his phone was ringing, there were really two worst case scenarios he could think of: something had happened to Robby, or something had happened to you. 

You, his daughter, and Robby, his best (and probably only) friend, were the only two people Jack knew of who had him down as their emergency contact. 

The number flashing across his screen wasn’t one he recognized, the sight adding to the tumultuous worry that was currently racing through his chest. He barely reached the device before it went straight to voicemail and brought it up to his ear. 

“Abbot speaking,” he spoke into the phone, desperately trying to keep his voice steady. 

“Dr. Abbot? This is Trinity Santos,” the feminine voice responded. 

Jack’s shoulders hunched a bit as he turned to lean his back against the marble of his kitchen counter. Even through the layer of his shirt, panicked goosebumps littered his skin from the intrusion of the chill. 

“H-Hey, Santos,” he stuttered, mentally cursing himself. “Sorry, I didn’t have your number saved.”

The apology was weak, and really, he should have been asking what was wrong instead of making small talk with a resident he barely knew outside of handoffs and the couple times you brought her over for a movie night where he chose to retreat back to his room instead of joining on the couch. 

“I didn’t expect you to.” 

Jack closed his eyes, and his body braced for impact. “What’s up?” 

Was that the best he could do? “What’s up” when there might be an emergency involving the two people that kept him tied to the earth instead of joining his wife in the sky? 

For a moment, it was only Trinity’s breathing that crackled through his phone, almost like she was also preparing for something unseen. 

“It’s Y/n,” she finally said. 

Medically speaking, hearts only ever stop when a person is having a heart attack. And when that happens, medical intervention is needed to get it pumping again before that person dies. But where Jack was standing, arm bent enough for him to grasp onto the counter with white knuckles, he swore his heart stopped completely before resuming beneath his sternum. 

“Is she—” He couldn’t even say the words. “Is she okay?” 

“If I said she was okay, I’d probably be lying,” Trinity confessed. “But today has just been really . . . bad.” 

A flood of relief slightly overwhelmed the panic enough for Jack to take a full breath. Trinity wasn’t talking like you were dead; that had to count for something.

“Did something happen?” he pressed while abandoning his post by the counter in favor of heading towards his bedroom. 

“Her chronic-illness patient died this morning.” 

Jack paused, the sight of the small girl you’d been trying to help, the one who’d been to the Pitt off and on for months, flashing across his eyes. This time, his heart didn’t stop, but it did clench painfully at the thought of you going through that so early this morning. 

“And she’s had to change her scrubs twice. You know the set she’d been excited about for months?” 

He hummed; he knew what set she was talking about. You’d been so excited to the point you had talked his ears off for days before you finally were able to buy the limited color when it released on whatever website offered the items. 

“She was helping a domestic violence case, blood got all over it. Police had to take both the top and pants for evidence.” 

“What happened to her back up pair?” 

“One of the med students bumped into her when she was holding her coffee. The cup splashed all over her.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Trinity clicked her tongue. 

“Anything else?” 

She paused. “Park yelled at her.” 

Jack’s hand tightened around the phone. “For what?” 

“Paramedics hadn’t packed a guy’s foot correctly on the way over; so, she tried to reset it correctly, but—” 

“He thought she did it.” 

“Dr. Abbot, I’ve never seen her cry during a shift before today. And it’s not like Park’s never an asshole, but he didn’t have basically rip her a new one in front of everyone when it wasn’t even her fault in the first place.” 

Jack was already reaching for a sweatshirt from his closet, stuffing it down into his bag with one hand while the other remained holding his phone to his ear. His prosthesis had already been put on as a just in case incident, and Jack was thanking whoever was listening for that gut feeling. Limbering back into the kitchen, he grabbed the keys to his truck from the bowl on the edge of the counter, something you’d wanted to get after seeing one of those TikTok videos about a purse bowl—whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. 

“Where is she now?” Jack questioned after getting the call connected to the Bluetooth. 

“That’s what I was calling you about,” Trinity muttered. “We can’t find her. Dr. Robby checked all the rooms; Dana’s been trying to call her cell. I thought maybe she’d be in one of the supply closets or in the bathrooms, but . . .” 

His heart clenched again. 

He knew you. Whenever you’d hurt, whenever you’d cry, whenever you’d need to just get away from the world, Jack knew you’d find a place away from prying eyes, a small coping mechanism you’d picked up on whenever he himself would flee the room the moment his eyes stung. Abbots weren’t known to publicly show emotions, especially after the loss of his wife and your mother. It was always I’m fine and I’m not crying and Could you excuse me for just a moment.

Trinity—he could tell—was close to panicking by the way her breathing changed, and the way her next few sentences came out shaky. 

“I’m worried. I’ve seen her with bad days before, but today’s been different. It’s like she’s close to giving up.” 

Jack’s foot pressed the gas a bit more, engine straining and pushing the truck to move the tiniest bit faster, like getting to the Pitt could at least ease the tightness he had in his chest. As the city passed by in waves of blurred lights and buildings, a moment of clarity washed over Jack thought he couldn’t tell if it was closer to relief or dread. 

“The roof. Have you checked the roof?” 

_______________________

You hadn’t meant to stand there for so long, but every time you thought about going back down, going back to that trapped feeling, you’d stayed, feet glued to the concrete and eyes unwavering from the building tops. 

Being on the roof felt the most freeing you’d felt since walking through the doors to begin your shift almost twelve hours ago. 

You’d thought today would have been a good day. Dad had made breakfast before you left, your playlist shuffle on the way over felt perfectly curated, and the first few hours of patients walking out the doors with gratefulness dripping from their lips convinced you that nothing could go wrong. 

That had been your first mistake, because in emergency medicine, good days never went by without a little grief—or in your case, a lot of it. 

Kassy, the 9-year-old who’d seen more hospital than her own bedroom, had been brought in during the third hour of your shift and wasn’t even able to leave the building. You could still feel her failing chest and cracked sternum under your hands if you thought about it for more than a second. Her parents had been understanding; you’d been devastated, believing you could have done more. 

But duty called, and you knew you had to leave every ounce of regret at the threshold of the door to her room. Easier said than done, because the next case, a younger woman, who came in with a stab wound, panicked so much about the anger of her partner that she rolled off the gurney, right into your arms, her blood instantly soaking through your scrub top and pants. 

The stain should have been manageable, a little cold water and vinegar always seemed to do the trick, if it weren’t for the officers following and asking for the contaminated matching set as pieces of evidence against her attacker. You watched in a disappointed fog as they stuffed your clothes into a plastic bag that you probably would never get back. 

A coffee, you had settled your mind on, was always a good choice to make your day a smidge better. Nothing sounded as good as the warm liquid mixed in with enough cream and sugar to be cavity inducing. You’d made the concoction after changing into your spare set of scrubs, albeit they weren’t the ones you’d wanted to wear, but they would work just fine. 

Well, that was until a meandering med student walked right into you, their eyes more focused on the tablet in hand than where they were walking. 

Scrub change number two came soon after, but unlike your personal scrubs, the hospital provided ones always sad wrong. They were itchy, tight around your neck, arms, and thighs but way too loose in the torso and waistline. 

Now, you weren’t superstitious, so granted, you thought the worst of the day had passed. The morning could be filled with sorrows, but you still had the afternoon to make up for it. 

An incoming leg trauma straight from a construction site was just the push of adrenaline you needed. The paramedics had rolled him right through, Robby had grabbed you to assist, and the two of you (plus the nurses) were well on your way to get this guy approved for an orthopedics consult before surgery. You held onto those hopes until halfway through the observation when you noticed his foot was tilting a few degrees too far inward. Mentally cursing whoever set the foot wrong, you had gingerly reached out for the foot to set it correctly, however, the moment your hands were on the appendage, Park decided that was the moment to walk through the door. 

His eyes narrowed, mouth already opening and throwing insults your way when all you wanted to do was help. 

Normally, you would have pushed back, would have stood your ground and defended yourself. But already drowning in the emotional weight of the day, you stood there, eyes cast downward as he went on and on about how you should have known better, should have done better. 

Pretty much the entire floor was witness to the public execution and the tears that ran down your cheeks. 

When he finished, you had simply nodded, promised to do better the next time, and silently slipped through the doors. 

Trinity had caught you by the arm, and her eyes widened at the red of your own that just wouldn’t stop welling up no matter how hard you were trying to keep them dry. Softly, she had asked if you were okay, like any normal concerned friend would ask. 

You wondered, while standing on the roof, body shivering at the chill wing, if that had been your breaking point, because you hadn’t been truly okay in years.

Would someone who was okay throw their life into emergency medicine? 

Would someone who was okay deal with their grief in a mature and emotional way and not run from the dark feelings each time they grew too painful to deal with?

Would someone who was okay be standing at the edge of a roof after a seemingly impossible shift? 

Answering any of those questions would decide if you were okay, and you ran instead facing the feelings that had been churning since you walked through the Pitt’s doors. 

“You’re in my spot.” 

You’d know that voice anywhere, but instead of answering, you uselessly wiped a hand under your eyes. Nothing in that moment seemed more humiliating than letting your dad see you cry after a hard shift. 

Jack stayed still a couple feet away. He had been assuming that he’d find you on the other side of the railing like he had with Robby a few months ago, ready to take one too many steps forward, stethoscope hanging like an unwritten goodbye letter. But when he quietly opened the door, he breathed a bit easier when he noticed that you’d chosen to stay behind the metal. 

“Heard you had a pretty bad shift, kid. Wanna talk about it?” he asked, taking another step closer. He pursed his lips when you failed to answer again. “Santos called me. Said she was worried for you.” 

“She shouldn’t have,” you finally muttered, passing another unsuccessful wipe across your face. “I’m fine.” 

“You know, you keep using fine, but I don’t think it means what you think it means,” he replied. 

A ghost of a smile tugged on your lips at his attempt to quote from Princess Bride, a movie he had actually stayed for and enjoyed more than he would ever realize. 

“It’s okay to not be fine, kid. You know that,” he said, voice a little louder in your ears now that he was standing beside you. 

You didn’t flinch when his arm draped across your shoulders, muscles tensing as he drew you into his side. The smell of his cologne, all warm and comforting in the way only your dad could make you feel, brought more tears to your eyes. However, this time, you let them fall freely. Jack couldn’t help the coo that pushed through his lips when you tried harder to tuck yourself into his chest. 

“I know today was hard,” he whispered into your hair. “And I’m so sorry. Hell, I had half a mind to rip Park a new one on my way up.” 

“I would have paid money to see that,” you said. “I think anyone would to see him get knocked down a few pegs.” 

“I bet they would.” 

You stayed quiet for a few moments after, letting your body soak in the peace and calm that Jack always seemed to carry extra of. Nothing would ever be better than a hug from your dad, the one big constant in your life that you could always count on. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand rested against the back of your head. 

“I need to get back down and get my patients discharged,” you said, breaking the silence of the roof once more. 

Jack let you slowly back away, but he still kept you within reach. “Next time you have a shift from hell, please let someone know where you’re going before you sneak off. Santos nearly gave me a heart attack when she said Robby and Dana also didn’t know where you’d gone.” He pushed a stray hair away from your face. “I can’t lose you too, kid.” 

You nodded, understanding the heaviness of his words. “I will. Promise.” 

“Good.” He held eye contact and gestured with his head back toward the door. “Let’s go finish discharge so we can get out of here.”

Your eyes widened. “Don’t you have work in like—what—a hour?” 

He shook his head. “I called off. Can’t have my girl feeling down when I can do something about it.” 

For the first time that day, hope rushed through your body, and you found yourself bringing him back into an unexpected hug. However, Jack was quick to squeeze you against his front again. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice watery. 

Jack rested his cheek against the top of your head. “Any time, kid. Any time.”   

Brett Richards

Jack Abbot

Grant Reilly

Andrew "Pope" Cody

Titus Danforth

Charlie Reid

Terry McCandless

Sammy Bryant

The end of your shift couldn’t come soon enough. 

In the span of twelve hours, you’d been doused in bodily fluids twice, hit on by a creepy old drunk who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, passively dismissed by Robby after he deemed you “too slow” for a trauma (when in reality, the med student next to you was the one who wouldn’t hand you the damn tube), and had your lunch stolen when it clearly had your name written on it—four times might you add. 

To top the whole very bad day off, your husband hadn’t responded to the messages you had sent hours ago asking if he’d be back in time to pick you up because the forecast called for rain, and like all bad days had gone, your car basically gave up the ghost the moment you parked it in the employee lot. 

So, you were almost scrub-less, uncomfortable, embarrassed, and so starving you almost thought about paying an insane price for a small Uber-ed meal before you also realized that the app hadn’t saved your information and your card was currently sitting on the kitchen counter. 

Just what you needed. 

The groan, along with the rumbles of your stomach, caused many heads to turn. 

“Is there a stampede in here? Or is your stomach in the process of eating itself,” Dana asked, though her eyes didn’t leave the nurses’ board. 

Your head landed next to the keyboard with a loud thunk. “I think my stomach tried to eat itself a couple of hours ago before realizing that it was completely empty.”

“I saw you brought lunch. Where’d that go?” 

If glares could put someone six feet under, the one you were giving your computer should have imploded it. “Currently being digested in the stomach of a med student.” 

“Good Lord. You poor thing.” 

“Tell me about it. I’d been dreaming of those leftovers since last night!” 

Dana gave you a knowing look. “Did your husband cook it?” 

“Yep.” Your chair squeaked as you leaned back. “And I didn’t even get to enjoy it for the second time. He’s going to be pissed.” 

“Who’s going to be pissed?” Trinity asked, already leaning on the counter like getting closer to you would make the gossip flow over. “Cause if you’re talking about Dr. Robby, that ship sailed around 2:30.” 

You closed your eyes and ran a hand down your face. “Trust me; I already know he’s pissed off at the world. I’ve been on the receiving end of that way too much today.” 

She gave you a sympathetic wince. “I heard about that.” 

“Who hasn’t,” you muttered with a harsh snort. 

That was the other thing that had added to your humiliation. Robby hadn’t just quietly dismissed you or corrected you after the trauma, no, he rather loudly decided to spew his personal thoughts about your work ethic in front of not just your coworkers but also the patient’s family who were there for moral support. Blatant strangers had a front seat to watch your attending rip into you all while it hadn’t even been your fault. 

Just thinking about it brought another heated flush up your neck. 

“To answer your question, her husband’s the one who’s going to be pissed,” Dana filled her in while rewriting a name. “He’s very particular about who gets to eat his food.” 

Another groan rumbled your chest. “Med student didn’t even return the Tupperware. Now he’s going to be extra pissed at that.” 

For a small second, Trinity looked almost nervous. “Will you be okay?” 

Her concern made a small feeling of comfort and pride bloom in your chest. If there was one person you could count on other than your family and Dana, it was Trinity, never hesitating to step in if she even thought someone didn’t feel safe. You shot her a grateful smile. 

“Oh, I’ll be perfectly fine. He’ll be mad sure, but not at me. We’ll just pray that he won’t spot the student that did it.” 

“Amen to that,” Dana muttered. “He’s like your personal guard dog.” 

“Are we going to add that guy who tried to touch your ass earlier?” Trinity teased, and your eyes widened. 

“Definitely.” You nodded along. “Might as well add Robby to it too. My husband isn’t that fond of him already. I just wish he’d respond to my messages.” 

Dana gave you a knowing look. “He at work today?” 

“Yeah. There was a problem with one of the houses a few hours out, and he left before I was even out of bed. Said there was a contract breach, kissed me good morning, and drove off.” 

“That’s oddly sweet,” Trinity added. 

You couldn’t help the fond smile that grew on your face. “Even made my coffee for me. I found it with one of those little post-it notes stuck to it.” 

“Didn’t know he was into doing stuff like that,” Dana said with a small laugh. 

“You know how he is,” you replied. “The man’s love language is acts of service.” 

Trinity smiled. “What does he do for work?” 

Your fingers found the keyboard again while you answered. “He’s a relator and contractor. Usually, he works from home, but like today, he sometimes has to go out and inspect the houses or make sure the paperwork is in order.” 

“Sounds like you got yourself a stay-at-home husband.” 

You couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah. He actually really likes to do the house work. Plus, when I’m home, all I’m doing is sleeping.” Your eyes caught your wedding band. “He’s really good to me. Plus, he’s Jack’s—” 

“Ladies, if we have time to chat, we have time to work,” Robby’s voice interrupted the conversation, loud and on the very edge of condescending. “Especially you, Dr. Cody. Let’s focus on getting patients in and out instead of sitting around, yes?” 

You swallowed down an annoyed sigh, instead choosing to stand up without a word. Hating the way you felt under Robby’s glare almost made you want to put in a two-week notice and move departments. However, emergency medicine was your life; it was the sole reason you met the people who quickly became your family, the reason you met your husband. Your fingers quickly found your wedding band, specially made of the number of diamonds that symbolized how long you and your husband had been dating before he proposed. 

Grabbing another tablet quickly, you forced yourself to hold your head up high as you passed him. Robby wasn’t worth your fear or submission. Plus, it wasn’t like he never talked around; you’d caught him and the hospital’s case manager making small talk way too many times to count. The man was a hypocrite that couldn’t see past his own faults and projected them onto his employees.   

By the time you rounded the corner, and Robby had vacated the station, Trinity leaned in toward Dana a bit more. 

“Is there any way to contact her husband? She mentioned her car died, and it’s raining.” Trinity looked in the direction you had disappeared down. “If I were married and my boss talked to me like that, I’d want my partner to know.”  

Dana had already picked up her personal cell after Trinity’s first question. “Oh, I’ll make sure he knows.” 

_______________________

When you exited the patient’s room, you paused a few feet into the hallway, rubbed your eyes, and continued to stare at the nurses’ station. 

Dana being there with Trintiy and Dennis was nothing out of the ordinary. However, the added presence of Jack Abbot and your husband was. You hastily crossed the gap between you and the station, concern etching itself in your eyebrows and lips. 

“Andrew?” you called out. “What are you doing here?” 

At the sound of your voice, Andrew Cody turned his head so rapidly that it added another wave of worry that he might have pulled something. He stayed still, even when you stopped in front of him, as your hands gently ran up his arms and stopped at his face all while the small group watched on with small smiles (from Jack and Dana) and genuine curiosity (from Dennis and Trinity). 

“You’re supposed to be in Altoona right now. Did you get hurt?” you questioned when your eyes couldn’t find any visible injuries. 

He stayed silent while his hands quietly found yours, fingers threading between the gaps and holding you steady. 

“I’m fine,” he finally said, hazel eyes boring into yours. “Just missed you.” 

A relieved exhale escaped from your lips. “Thank goodness. I was worried there for a second.”  

His crooked teeth poked through a smile. “I could tell.” 

You softly pushed him before taking his hands again. “Shut up. You went hours without responding and just show up at the end of my shift. God forbid I’m concerned for my husband.” 

“See, man, I told you she’d do this,” Jack grumbled, patting Andrew slightly on the shoulder. 

“Um, not to interrupt, but did Dr. Cody marry someone who looks exactly like Dr. Abbot?” Dennis squeaked out a question, obviously trying not to step over a boundary. 

But like a sister, Trinity nudged him harshly with her elbow. “Use your brain, Huckleberry. It’s obvious they’re related somehow.” 

The two continued looking between the Pitt’s night shift attending and your husband who looked like Jack if he were ten years younger. 

“That’s what I was trying to tell you early, Trinity,” you said. “My husband is Jack’s cousin on their moms's side. Andrew, this is Dennis and Trinity.” 

Andrew didn’t reach out to give them a handshake, but the appreciated nod he gave them was somehow enough. “She talks about you two a lot.” 

Trinity looked smug by the news. “All good things I hope.” 

“Definitely,” he answered. “I can tell she likes working with you two.” 

“Which is more than he can say about Robby,” Dana muttered. 

The change in Andrew, just by mentioning Robby, was so visceral that Trinity and Dennis were both shocked. 

In the few moments, the two could see how soft this hunking-fridge-of-a-man was for you. They saw it in the way he was quick to hunch over slightly when you looked him over with worry. They noticed it in the way he held onto you when he reassured you that he was only there for her and not because he had gotten hurt. They noted the way his soft smile was only for you and not even for when his cousin jested with him. 

Dana’s words from earlier rang in Trinity’s mind as she watched Andrew’s muscles tense beneath his polo. 

He’s like your personal guard dog.

Andrew shifted his weight, shoulders now seemingly broader than they had been. “Did something happen today?” 

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “It was nothing. He’s just being Robby.” 

Surprisingly, Andrew’s eyes flitted over to Trinity like he knew she’d tell him exactly what he wanted to know. “What’d he do?” 

Trinity looked at you once, and when you looked toward the floor, she answered. “He blamed her for a med student’s slow pace. Practically yelled at and belittled her in front of the other doctors in the trauma room and the patient’s family.” 

Even Jack couldn’t hold back the wince splashing across his face at the news, mind already knowing that in five seconds, his cousin might be on a war path for his friend. However, all Andrew seemed to do was take in a deep breath and hold onto your hands like a tether. 

“All right,” he finally said, body still tense. “Okay. Anything else I should know?”

“Someone took her lunch,” Dana added, drawing your eyes from the floor to her, hues flooding with betrayal. 

Et tu, brute? 

“Dana,” you hissed. 

Andrew’s grip on your hands tightened. 

In an almost attempt to throw more gas onto an already raging fire, Trinity ended with, “And she had a patient try to grope her earlier this morning.” 

Andrew’s eyes closed slowly like he was bracing for a fit of rage to overtake his senses, his mind already racing with the fact that you probably hadn’t eaten, because when he stopped by the house to change, he saw your forgotten card. Add in you almost getting assaulted, and he was one wrongly pulled Jenga block from collapsing. 

You closed your eyes and braced for impact, already feeling the brunt of the day push down on you. They only fluttered open when Andrew didn’t move, his chest the only thing heaving in an out and in motion. Somehow, that didn’t ease the queasy feeling bubbling beneath your skin. And at that moment, Robby decided to round the corner. Like most men, you guessed that he hadn’t picked up on the tension cloud that was currently circling around the station and—more importantly—Andrew’s head. 

When Robby walked into his field of view, you swear you saw the lovely hazel of his eyes darken. It should have scared you how quickly Andrew could go from your sweet and doting husband to a very possessive animal, but instead, the change had you relaxing and relieved. If there was someone you could count on for anything no matter what, that person would always be Andrew. 

And maybe (finally) Robby sensed enough tension, because his body went stiff after he looked up from the tablet in his hands and met Andrew’s eyes. 

Trinity and Dennis really thought that your husband was going to stalk over there, throw a punch, menacingly bark curse words and insults at Robby (a man who had a few good inches to tower over Andrew), and walk back over like nothing happened. But when he stayed put, only giving a beady stare that never wavered, they realized that he didn’t even have to talk to Robby or punch him for his words to get across. 

They knew that Andrew was making Robby uncomfortable by the way Robby shifted, the way he broke eye contact first, and the way he left the station looking like a dog with a tail between its legs.  

Jack let out a low whistle. “Damn, that never gets old.” 

Dana smirked. “He ever use that on you?” 

“All the fucking time.” Jack scoffed. “Do you know how many family gatherings I spent trying to get away from those eyes.” 

“We have the same eyes, asshole,” Andrew grumbled. 

“But yours are scary as hell,” Jack shot back. “Might be a good time to say that my night shift needs another resident.” 

“Fuck no,” Trinity instantly said. “You can’t have her, or we’d be left with him.” 

Dennis nodded. “I’m in full agreement.” 

Jack looked over at you expectantly but visibly deflated at the apologetic look you were giving him. 

“Sorry, Jack, but I enjoy getting to spend my evenings at home.” You paused and smirked. “I know Samira’s been looking for a change of scenery if you want to ask her.” 

The small crowd couldn’t help but smile or chuckle at the now vivid flush across Jack’s face as he tried to sputter out an answer. 

“All right, get out of here kids before it looks like you’re staging a mutiny,” Dana said with a wave of her hands. 

“Aye, aye, captain,” Trinity responded with a salute of her own. 

Andrew grinned widely, finally showing the smile around more people than just you. “If we’re turning into pirates, Jack already has the missing-leg thing down.” 

“Hey!” 

You giggled loudly while Andrew wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you into his side. Your hand gently rested against his chest as you hugged him back. He felt your body melt into his after he pressed a quick kiss to your temple. 

“Ready to go home?” he quietly muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “Dana already gave me your bag.” 

“Yeah,” you breathily sighed. “Let’s go before a trauma comes in, and I’m stuck in here until I wither away. 

Andrew hummed. “We can’t have that now, can we?” 

“Absolutely not. I still want to have leftovers at least one more time before I’m buried. And this time, I’m putting a padlock on the container.” 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” 

The community outreach event had seemed harmless enough when the day started. SWAT volunteered at them a few times a year, and while Jack would never admit it out loud, he usually enjoyed them. It was difficult to have a terrible day when half the crowd consisted of elementary school kids who thought every volunteer spent their workday hanging off helicopters and kicking down doors like they’d seen in cartoon movies. Crowds seemed to swarm the park despite the heat with tents stretching across the grass to make it easier to find shade. Multiple organizations from both Pittsburgh and visiting cities stationed next to their tents that lined the walking paths. 

Families drifted from booth to booth carrying melting snow cones and bags stuff with pamphlets and stress balls printed with specialized branding they would probably throw away before they got home. Somewhere behind him, a group of children were taking turns climbing through an armored vehicle while another one of his SWAT buddies attempted—and failed—to maintain order. 

Jack was halfway through answering a little boy’s very serious question about whether he’d ever fixed up a ninja when movement across the path caught it attention. 

Truly, it wasn’t even your face that got him first; it was your posture. 

He’d seen you enough to recognize the specific way you stood with your weight shifted slightly onto one leg while reading something. Your hair was pulled back like you always had it, and from a distance, framed by the movement, he was sure that you were 100 percent standing across from him. 

His first thought was confusion, because you were supposed to be working. He knew you had a shift scheduled until seven, and while he knew that was subject to change all the time, you usually let him know when they did. 

Jack frowned and glanced at his watch. 

Maybe you’d gotten off early, maybe you’d decided to surprise him (at the wrong booth he thought), or maybe you’d gone and volunteered for . . . the Chicago Fire Station tent? Each guess seemed more ridiculous than the first. 

If this had happened six months ago, he would have let you at it. However, ever since he kissed you in that parking lot after spouting nonsense about seeing his double about five times before you finally figured out he was the real Jack, he’s been pretty protective of you. He was your boyfriend for crying out loud. Seeing you over there at a random booth when you were supposed to be at work made something curl inside his chest. 

He liked the idea that you might have let him known you got off early, he believed in himself to show that you shouldn’t be worried he’d be mad if you chose to spend your time somewhere else, but a simple call or text wouldn’t have hurt. 

So, through his confusion, Jack did the only thing he knew how do to: talk it out like a grown ass man and not get angry or possessive. 

“Hey, sweetheart!” he called out, already walking over to the booth with his limping gate. “Did you get off early or something?” 

The sound of his voice had you looking up at him, and he willed himself to not get lost in your eyes. 

“Can’t believe Robby let you have the afternoon. Did he hit his head or something? Don’t think I’ve ever seen him give a resident the day off, especially during a weekend,” he muttered the last bit to himself. 

Now, see, since Jack was so close to being distraught about you not texting him, he failed to noticed the very confused look on your face while he talked at you. 

He stopped when he was finally over at the booth and about a foot away from where you were standing. “Did I make you mad or something, sweetheart? If you wanted to spend your day off by yourself, I wouldn’t have cared. Just thought you might have wanted to let me know.” 

His first warning should have been your lack of response after the first term of endearment that seemed to always make you swoon when he used it. 

But again, his brain was befuddled with ideas of him making you so upset you’d rather stand over at the firefighter tent than over with him just across the path. 

At this point, Jack was rambling. “I get it, our relationship hasn’t been going on for that long, and before that you had men kissing the ground where you walked, but I’d really like this to work, I want us to work. And if that means you’re volunteering as a firefighter on the weekends, I’ll take it. But you couldn’t have picked up . . . I don’t know . . . a safer hobby? You’re usually not the one with destructive tendencies—” 

“I’m really sorry to say this, sir, but I have no clue who you are,” you interrupted. 

Against all odds, Jack’s never quiet brain ceased all functioning. Because when you stopped him from talking, he finally looked at you, like, really looked at you, and it clicked that the woman across standing right in front of him wasn’t actually you. 

She had your eyes, your nose, and your mouth, and for one completely ridiculous moment, Jack wondered if he’d somehow developed a concussion without noticing before profession instinct won out over common sense. 

“Oh,” he breathed, a heated flush climbing his neck at a rapid pace. “Oh, no.” 

Seeing his absolute embarrassment, the not-you giggled softly. “While I’m partially endeared, I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” 

Jack ran a hand down his face. “I see the appeal of getting run over by oncoming traffic now.” He huffed. “I sincerely apologize for the last three minutes; you quite literally have my girlfriend’s face.” 

“Well, I can assure you that I am most definitely not your girlfriend.” 

Jack’s eyes quickly caught on the very sparkly ring on her finger that he certainly did not put there. The sight rewired his brain. For the next small moment, Jack contemplated drowning himself in the watercooler nearby until the not-you reached out her hand. 

“Richards.”

He took her hand and shook it. “Abbot. Jack Abbot.” 

She smiled warmly at him. “So, Jack Abbot, does SWAT include you mistaking women for your partner or is that just a you-thing?” 

Oh, she had your jokes. 

“Would it help to say that she went a few weeks going around finding men that looked like me?” he mentioned sheepishly. 

“A bit.” She paused before continuing. “Really, I should have stopped you the first time you called me sweetheart, but seeing you grovel was really nice.” 

“I don’t think I’d count that as nice. Maybe highly embarrassing and dignity-disgracing.” 

“You sound like my husband.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“I haven’t decided yet. But all things considering, I think there’s a possibility that it is a very good thing.” 

Jack continued to eye her carefully, part of his brain still unconvinced that this wasn’t you pulling a prank on him. In the small moment, he quickly noted all the visible differences: her hair was greying at the edges, her neck held a small burn pattern, and, most importantly, her eyes didn’t hold the softness yours did when you looked up at him. 

“I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around this.” 

She cocked her head. “Well, what does your-me do?” 

A fondness melted across Jack’s face as he thought of you. “She’s a senior resident at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. She’s actually there right now, which is why I was so confused to see you standing here.” 

“Ah, the root of the groveling then.” 

“Could we maybe move past that? I do have a reputation to uphold.” 

“It was actually quite funny.” 

“I’m still considering jumping into traffic. Seems much less humiliating than this.” 

“Well, if there’s a time to do it, now might be a good time since this is the largest group of first responders I’ve ever seen. Might even send my husband to drive his firetruck to get on sight first.” 

Husband?

“Where I am driving to, baby?” a new voice sounded, causing Jack to tear his eyes away from not-you’s face. 

And somehow, in that moment, finding your doppelganger was not the most interesting part of Jack’s day. That was now taken by looking his right in the same-hued eyes. The man across from him was quite literally a spitting image: same salt-and-peppered curls, same nose, and same stature. However, the man across from him most definitely had both feet and was donning a heavy bright yellow coat. 

The man—probably not-you’s husband—also looked at him with a weird type of awe you’d only get if you somehow found one of your seven look-a-likes, which he had. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the man muttered. “Your doctor wasn’t lying.” 

Jack sputtered. “My doctor?” 

He nodded. “Yep. Came up to me yelling because she thought you went through another mid-life crisis. But at least now I get to tell you that I am most definitely the hotter firefighter version of you.” 

Not-you punched his shoulder. “Brett,” she hissed. “Don’t be mean.” 

“He can take it,” Brett shot back. “If he’s my double, he can surely take it.” 

Jack stared between the couple before saying, “Well, now that the universe hasn’t entirely imploded on itself, I should probably head back to my tent before my brain actually takes on any more damage than it already has.” 

He had just started to turn slowly, wanting to get back to the SWAT tent asap, when not-you’s voice called out easily. “Take care, Abbot! Hopefully the other me won’t be too surprised to hear about this.” 

“She’ll be utterly delighted,” he called back, shaking his head with a wide smile plastered on his face. 

_______________________

By the time Jack had gotten to the hostage situation, it had already been dragged out to the point he knew it would consume the rest of his afternoon in a way it always seemed to. One minute he was finishing paperwork, and the next he was standing behind a patrol vehicle and waiting for the green light to head in. This particular situation was apparently lengthy because the man in question had fled from out of state. Jack wasn’t too sure which one, but mentions of the west coast had him questioning how dangerous the man inside the building was if he’d fled halfway across the nation. 

The entire scene buzzed with controlled tension. Patrol officers maintained the perimeter while detectives moved in and out of the command post. Ambulances waited several blocks way in anticipation of the worst-case scenario: a mass killing. Nearby, Jack’s eyes caught the flashes of cameras as reporters hovered at the edges of police tape like vultures circling a dying animal, hoping someone would accidentally tell them something useful. 

Jack hated hostage situations simply because they were slow. Hours just ticked by while they waited around for somebody else to make a mistake. It was hard for him to stay still, a big reason why his career choice after the army had been an attending position in an emergency department; there was hardly ever time for boredom. Which is why when he let his attention drift toward the command post after standing still for less than a second, he spotted your familiar figure near one of the folding tables. 

Every coherent thought he’d ever had left his brain. 

He harshly blinked once like the action would rid his sight of the hallucination. But when he opened them back up, you were still there, standing inside the command center, wearing a vest that clearly had Detective written across the front. 

You were standing with one hand resting against your hip while studying something spread across the table. Your hair was pulled back, a radio hung from your shoulder, and a badge sat clipped to the waistline of your pants. 

Jack stared long enough for his assistant medic to notice. 

“Abbot? Are you okay?”

“No,” he managed to get out. 

“Oh.” 

“My girlfriend is apparently a detective.” 

The medic looked at him, then over to the command post, then back at him. “Isn’t your girlfriend a doctor?” 

“That’s what I thought until approximately two seconds ago.” 

Jack continued to stare. There had to be a perfectly normal and reasonable explanation for why you were working during an active hostage situation. Maybe the Pitt had sent you over to help identify a victim, maybe someone inside was related to a patient, or maybe Robby had finally snapped and decided trauma medicine wasn’t stressful enough for you. 

Jack’s stomach dropped when you looked up, because the big problem here was that you absolutely should not have been standing in the middle of an active police station and not that your features didn’t quite match the ones in his memories.

But before common sense could stop him, Jack started walking. One of the negotiators called out after him but was ignored. He was about halfway over to you when you narrowed your eyes at his approaching figure. 

The expression should have warned him, but all it did was convince him that you’d been hiding a double life because you gave him that exact look every time he tracked mud into your apartment no matter how many times you reminded him to take his shoes off. 

“Sweetheart,” he called. “What are you doing?”  

You continued to stare, and Jack just kept going. 

“Actually, before you answer that, why are you dressed like a detective?” 

Silence followed. 

“Did someone recruit you?” 

He watched you slowly lower the file you were holding; again, Jack pressed onward because apparently humiliation was included in his list of recreational hobbies just under getting shot at. 

“You know what?” he asked, eyebrows all furrowed. “Never mind. I don’t even want to know. Every time I think I’ve figured you out, you do something that completely rewrites my understanding of reality.” 

Your eyebrows climbed high than he’d ever seen, but even that wasn’t enough to get him to stop talking. 

“Sir—” 

“Because, honestly? I was prepared for a lot of things when we started dating. Long shifts? Fine. You move into trauma surgery and leave me downstairs? Fine. The occasional thirty-six-hour workday where you survive entirely on caffeine and spite? Fine.” 

Several detectives had stopped what they were doing; Jack failed to notice. 

“What I wasn’t prepared for was finding out that you’ve secretly joined the police department in your spare time.” 

“Sir—” 

“And if that’s what happened, I have just a few questions. Most of them are about paperwork—” 

“Do you smell burnt toast?” you suddenly asked, halting the next words out of Jack’s mouth that suddenly tugged into a frown. 

“What?” 

“Any numbness in your left arm?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Blurred vision? Because right now, you’re either having medical emergency, or you’ve mistaken me for somebody else.” 

Jack stopped talking, which was a miracle in itself, and it gave him a small moment to actually look at you without the lens of confusion or concern. In one blink, he instantly wanted the earth to swallow him whole. 

“Oh.” 

You—or suddenly and visibly not you—tilted her head. “Yeah.” 

“It’s happening again.” 

“What’s happening again?” 

Jack dragged both hands down his face, and for several seconds, he wondered how long fleeing the country would take. Unfortunately, that would mean never seeing the real you ever again, so he had to face this version of you like a man. 

“I am so sorry.” 

A very apologetic man. 

The woman laughed, and to his absolute horror, it sounded enough like your laugh that Jack’s head started spinning. 

“It’s fine,” she stated after her laughter slowed. “I’ve had worse introductions.” 

He peered at her. “Somehow I don’t believe you.” A sigh flooded his lips. “You have my girlfriend’s face, but she is definitely not a detective.” 

“Understandable. Home for me is a long way from here, guessing she lives in the area.” 

Jack nodded. “Works here too as a doctor. Which, speaking of, I’m Jack Abbot, volunteer SWAT medic.” 

She shook his head. “Detective Bryant. LAPD.”

Detective. Of course this version of you had a job that matched the hardened look on your face. While his version of you still held a small bit of softness around your cheeks, this woman looked like she’d seen brutal death after brutal death. He felt his heart clench. Pittsburgh was kind to you in a way Los Angeles was mean to her. 

His hazel eyes went wide. “Shit, that’s how far the suspects from? Long way for everyone.” 

Her hands gripped at her vest, knuckles going white. “Yep. We’ve been tracking him and his gang since last month. His group sadly killed my husband’s partner before he fled.” 

So the second not-you also had a husband . . . 

“Oh,” Jack breathed. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Thank you,” she responded, peering up at him. “He was a good guy, that’s why we’re all hoping this goes smoothly.” 

Jack glanced over his shoulder. “You and me both. I’d rather not have to wheel one of them out of here on a gurney again.” 

“Again?” Her eyes (that looked exactly like yours) widened. “I hope then my husband’s squad gets through just fine then.” 

“Aw, hell,” a deeper voice grumbled over your look-a-like’s shoulder. “This day just got a whole lot stranger.” 

“Speaking of my husband,” she muttered before glancing toward the new comer. “Sammy, this is—” 

“Jack Abbot as I live and breathe,” Sammy drawled out, hand already reaching out. 

Another part of Jack’s brain stilled, because where Brett Richards could have been in twin, this man looked like a twenty-year-younger Jack. He barely remembers himself at that age, but the similarities were uncanny. This . . . Sammy was the Jack that was in his wedding picture, standing next to his first wife, that you insisted he kept on the mantle of his house. 

Jack was quick to grasp his hand tightly. “Guessing you remember from . . .” he trailed, letting the man who looked very much like him fill in the gaps. 

“Yeah, I remember. Kinda hard not to when a woman starts talking to you like she knows exactly what you’re thinking. But now that I’m looking at you, it all kinda makes sense.” 

“At least it is for one of us. I think my head’s still spinning,” he tried to joke. “At least nothing’s exploded.” 

“Yet,” not-you teased. “At least not yet.” 

Sammy smiled brightly. “We’re hoping nothing blows up. That would make all of our jobs a lot harder.” 

“And would add more paperwork,” Jack added. “I should get back to the squad just in case someone decides to be a hero.” 

Sammy nodded. “As long as it’s not you or me. We both have someone to get back home to.” He wrapped an arm around not-you’s shoulders. “Don’t think your doctor would like it very much if she had to patch you up.” 

Jack chuckled in response. “Absolutely not. She’d probably give me a worse wound if I showed up injured.” 

“I don’t know her, but damn right she would,” Sammy’s version of you agreed. “It was, uh, nice meeting you, Jack. Hope you don’t run into another me again.” 

“Knowing how the universe works, I’m sure there’s a few more coming.” Jack took a step before pausing to look back at the couple. “By the way, this was somehow much better than meeting the firefighter.” 

Sammy frowned. “You met him too?” 

“Let’s just say his ego was big enough to feed a small army.” 

“Firefighters,” Sammy mumbled. “It’s always the firefighters.” 

“Amen, brother.” 

Jack kept his hands in his pockets as he walked back over to his SWAT group, ready for this day to be over and with a silent prayer that he wouldn’t run into any more versions of you in the days to come. 

Oh, how wrong his prayers were, because the universe did as it pleased.  

_______________________

By the time Jack made it to the grocery store after a grueling twelve-hour shift, life seemed to be working against him. 

His prosthesis was hurting more than normal, his back ached, and on top of it all, the weekend he was planning to spend with you had to be rescheduled because, of course, the day shift was short this weekend, so Robby had to ask you to come in. So, Jack was there, at the grocery, debating whether generic noodles would finally be the thing that ended his relationship. 

It wasn’t as serious as he was making it, but you had once claimed that you could taste the difference between seven brands of spaghetti. While Jack remained convinced you were lying, he was also fairly certain that no one on earth possessed that level of culinary sophistication. You were a trauma resident who recently joined a surgery fellowship. Half your meals came from vending machines, cafeteria food, and whatever happened to be left in the physician’s lounge whenever you finally remembered that eating was actually really important to the human body. And the fact that you somehow had strong opinions about pasta seemed suspicious.

Still, he’d learned very early on in your relationship that questioning those opinions usually resulted in lengthy lectures. 

So, he stood in front of a wall of nearly identical boxes with his shopping basket hanging from one hand and his phone in the other, squinting at the list you’d sent him three hours ago when you should have been asleep before your shift. 

The list itself looked normal. 

Milk, eggs, bread, coffee pods, pasta*.

What made it significantly less helpful were the additional notes you’d attached. 

*not pasta; the good pasta. 

Whatever the hell “the good pasta” meant. He rubbed a tired hand over his face, letting it rest against his chin, fingers scratching at the few days’ worth of stubble that you complained about before he left for his shift. 

“You are a menace,” he muttered to himself, making the elderly woman beside him look deeply concerned, to which he pretended he hadn’t spoken at all. 

His attention dropped back to his phone as he reread the text conversation for what was probably the fifth time. 

What makes pasta good? 

That means the good one, Jack. 

I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that’s not an answer. 

You’ll know it when you see it! 

I probably won’t. 

I believe in you! <3 

He smiled as he scrolled through the messages, but that meant he wasn’t paying attention when he rounded the corner into the aisle. However, just as he happened to glance up to see where he was going, he spotted you at the end. 

Immediately, every other thought vanished. 

His eyes trailed from your face and down toward your shopping cart, or at least, what he assumed was your shopping cart. The thing was loaded with groceries that were definitely not on the list: fresh vegetables, fruit, actual ingredients, enough food to sustain a small village. He frowned deeply at the sight. 

It wasn’t like you hated grocery shopping; between your added hours with the surgery fellowship, you simply never had the time. Most weeks, Jack barely convinced you to buy enough food to just survive. And the sight of you voluntarily pushing a cart filled with produce was concerning enough that he started walking over before he could think too hard about it. 

“You know,” he called out, “I think this is the most vegetables I’ve ever seen you buy at one time.” 

At the sound of his voice, you looked up, and Jack smiled. 

“You finally decide to start listening to me?” 

You stayed quiet. 

“I’m serious. Last week I found three energy drinks and a packet of crackers in your apartment, and you claimed that was enough to last you the weekend.” He stopped beside your cart and pointed. “Actually, no. Hold on; are those Brussels sprouts?” 

Your eyes widened as you followed his finger down to the green vegetables. 

“Sweetheart,” he pouted. “If Santos is forcing you to buy those, you can tell me. I’ll tell her to lay off.” 

When you only blinked slowly, Jack missed the warning sign completely. 

“But come on, you spent three days arguing with me about vegetables,” he continued. “Three. Entire. Days. And now you’re buying enough produce to open a farmer’s market.” 

Silence stretched between you and him until you said, “I’m sorry.” 

Jack nodded. “You should be.” 

“No. I mean I’m sorry, but I have absolutely no idea who you are.” 

The words hit him like a freight train, and for a second, he simply stared until he felt his soul leave his body. 

Universe three; Jack Abbot zero. 

In this moment, he would’ve preferred if the earth opened up and swallowed him whole. Of course his luck wouldn’t have let him just continue on with his life after finding your double twice. He wondered if he were becoming you: a doppelganger magnet, or if he were just lucky—unlucky in his opinion—to make the same mistake three times in a row. 

However, seeing another version of you meant that at least she chose another version of him. He at least let himself look closely at this one. Under the grocery store lights, her skin held a tan that he’d barely seen around the bi-polar weathered Pittsburgh. He wondered if she was from somewhere sunny. But unlike the firefighter’s wife or the detective, her eyes held a brightness that rivaled his version of you’s eyes. Jack had to guess that she might be pared with a smiley version of himself. 

And if this interaction went anything like the others, he’d meet him soon enough. 

Jack must have been staring for a while, because in the next moment, she snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Do you have a problem, sir?” 

He shook his head instantly. “Sorry, this is just . . .” he trailed. “This is the third time this has happened?” 

Third-you looked utterly confused. “What’s the third time?” 

“The third time I’ve mistaken a stranger for my girlfriend.” 

That seemed to stun her. “The third time?” 

“Shockingly, yes.” 

Her head tilted. “That’s either incredibly romantic or deeply concerning, if you ask me.” 

“I’m leaning more toward mentally unstable,” he joked, thankfully making her let out a soft giggle. 

The sound had comfort blooming in his chest. If there was one thing that stayed the same, it was your laugh. 

“You probably have the correct answer,” she agreed. 

A soft inhale whistled through his nose as he offered out his hand. “Jack Abbot.” 

She hummed when she shook his, letting the hum of the overhead light fill the silence between them. The entire time, he felt her eyes on him, almost looking like she was trying to look into his soul and find the darkness in it. That was another difference that he noticed between you and her. 

You always seemed to treat people with an undying kindness, never once looking for the bad in them. Your personality is exactly what made you an amazing doctor in Jack’s eyes. Where he was all judging and sullen and closed in, you were warm and bright and open to whoever walked through the door of the Pitt. 

This version of you was more like Jack than he’d like to admit, even if she exuded a warmness in her eyes. She seemed trusting enough, but he could tell it was only reserved for the people closest to her. 

He shifted his weight, the pain of his prosthesis surging through his spine. “Sorry again that I thought you were my vegetable-hating girlfriend.” 

“It’s fine,” she stated. “I’m glad to know that your version of me is being taken care of.” 

Jack looked around. “Now, it probably won’t happen, but right about now, the version of me somehow pops up as well.” He glanced back at the woman in front of him. “Do you happen to have one?” 

At the mention of his double’s possibility, this version of you’s face softened. “Yeah. My fiancé I’m guessing.” 

He watched her twiddle with the ring on her finger, and for the first time since meeting the first one of your doubles, Jack’s chest twisted with an aching want. Before he could ask another question, a voice sounded from the other end of the aisle. 

“Babe?” 

Jack followed the sound of the voice and froze, while not-you looked over her shoulder and waved. 

“Over here!’ 

And like clockwork, another version of him was walking towards him. This one, like Sammy, was younger with auburn curls Jack hadn’t seen in almost a decade yet also didn’t carry the easiness that the officer had. This version of Jack reminded him of the time right after he lost his wife: all hard around the edges and looking like life had chewed him up, spat him out, and danced on his corpse. He also donned the same tired expression that suggested that life also routinely tested his patience. 

Even worse, he looked just as startled. For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, but this time, Jack wasn’t going to be the first to say anything. 

Finally, the man spoke. “Did she ever find better coffee?” 

Jack, against every screaming muscle, lifted the backet. “She’s started making it at home.” 

He nodded once. “Good.” 

This version of his’s you looked up with wide eyes. “Andrew?” 

The now-named Andrew looked down and completely softened. “Remember that doctor I told you about? The one that sat with me when Craig got hurt?” 

A realization flashed across her face. “Oh.” She glanced back at Jack. “That actually makes a lot of sense now.” 

Jack continued to stare just like Andrew was staring back at him, almost calculating like he could see Jack’s next move. But apparently, Jack new how to surprise both of them. 

“Now that introductions are over, do either of you know what good pasta looks like?” 

Andrew blinked once before reaching for a box overhead, and Jack couldn’t help but notice the scars and split knuckles on the man’s hands when he took the box from him. 

“You sure?” he asked with a smile. 

He got another nod. 

“The box just looks right.” 

And when Jack was leaving the store, Andrew-Cody-and-almost-Mrs.-Cody-approved pasta in bag, he couldn’t help but notice that yes, the box did look correctly like the good pasta. And for once, Jack thanked the universe. 

_______________________

Jack’s champagne had gone lukewarm around the time the fifth filthy-rich billionaire talked to him like he wasn’t a doctor himself. 

Now, he wasn’t above a little ass kissing to bring in large donations; the Pitt, like any hospital, ran much smoother when a large donation came in every so often. But while this older man talked and talked about the importance of strong-head doctors, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander. This year, the banquet location had been done up to the nines, and Jack wondered who had much the big donation to make sure this looked like a presidential ball rather than a bi-monthly gala that he’d been to way too many times to keep track of them all. 

The large open space was filled to the brim, and Jack knew it was probably in violation of a few OSHA codes, but that wasn’t his department of health and safety. So, he just let this close-to-dying man continue on with his speech as a favor to Robby, who had somehow mastered the ability to make Jack’s attendance request sound more like an obligation. 

If anything, Jack would’ve rather happily spend his evening literally anywhere else, preferably next to you. And a quick glance down at his watch told him that the evening was far from over. He fought to swallow down a groan, until he spotted you across the way, taking small sips from your own glass. 

He let his eyes roam the dark dress that hugged your body and the way your hair was pinned back from your face. The outfit was very far from your regular scrubs, but honestly, Jack would still look at you the same even if you were wearing a potato sack. 

For a moment, a wave of gratitude washed over him, because obviously, Robby must’ve invited you too. Jack should have expected it. His friend had spent months insisting that Jack needed to participate more in events that didn’t involve gunfire. You being here must have been some type of Pavlovian incentive. 

The realization that you were there improved his mood so dramatically that he immediately abandoned the conversation he had been trapped in and started making his way across the banquet hall. 

“Sweetheart,” he said as he approached. “I know you’d probably be back home, but man am I glad Robby invited you too.” 

You looked over at him with a smirk. “I was wondering when you’d come over.”

At this moment, Jack should have taken a second to pause, to remember the past three times that this had happened. Because, really, he should have noticed that the woman standing in front of him, although looking a lot like you with similar eyes and facial structure, looked exactly like she’d been born with a silver spoon in her mouth while her hands suggested she knew her way around beating someone to death. But alas, Jack Abbot’s greatest strength and failure at the same time was loving his woman to the point that, once he saw her face, he couldn’t shut up. 

His brows pinched. “You’ve been here this entire time? I’m sorry, sweetheart, I would have tried to find you earlier when I got here.” He looked around as he spoke. “Robby didn’t even tell me you were coming, that little fucker.” A sigh heaved from his chest. “I hope you’ve had a better night than standing and listening to rich bitches act like they normally do.” 

You, for some odd reason, looked downright pleased at his distraught, taking a sip from your glass with a sly smile. “Hmmm, tell me sir, what exactly do rich bitches do?” 

Again, the answer should have set him off, but the few glasses of champagne plus the pregame drink he had beforehand really diluted his inhibition. 

“Wave their money around like they own the world,” he muttered. 

“I mean, some of us do.” 

Some . . . of . . . us . . . do . . . 

It was almost as if a giant lightbulb went off behind Jack’s eyes. “Oh fuck.” 

And suddenly, the features that had seemed just like yours melted away. However, where Mrs. Richards had been nice, and Detective Bryant had been just, and future-Mrs.-Cody had been warm, this version of you looked downright evil with her stilettoes that looked like they could kill a man with a single stomp. An idea like that finally had Jack pausing, another lightbulb going off. 

“Please tell me that you don’t sacrifice people to Satan too, because if so, I will need to admit myself into a psychiatric hold.” 

She took another sip from her glass. “And what if I do? Seems like you already know me.”

“You somehow look a lot like my girlfriend, but last I checked, she saves lives, not sacrifices them.” 

She laughed, but this time, it did not sound like yours. Each time her laugh came out, it sounded like a million dollars were spent each time. “Doctor, do you spend all your charity galas trying to find women who look like your girlfriend?” 

“I spend my charity galas trying to find a way to leave.” 

“You don’t enjoy them?” 

“I don’t enjoy listening to . . .” he paused, brain scrambling for another word. 

“Rich bitches?” the woman provided. “Go ahead; I don’t mind.” 

Jack winced. “Billionaires who hold money over our heads.” 

Her eyes glanced around the room before stopping on the man Jack had just been talking to. “You think anyone would miss him if he disappeared.” 

He followed her gaze. “You know that entire sentence just solidified the idea that you do actually sacrifice people.” 

“You didn’t answer my question, doctor.” 

“I’m beginning to think you’re toying with me.” 

A fire lit behind her expression. “You’re catching on. I do enjoy playing with my food, you’re right.” 

“Now I really want to find a way out. Maybe the fire escape and jumping off the roof might be my best bet,” Jack said in hopes to get the conversation away from ritualistic human sacrifice. 

“Good. I’d get my body easier by the end of the night.” 

A literal chill ran up his spine while this version of you stood like what she’d just said was meaningless conversation. While Jack might have been a bit unsettled by the other ones, he had never been as nervous as he was right now. When he failed to say anything else, the woman waved a hand around her face. 

“Relax, doctor. I’m mostly joking.” 

Still, that did nothing to ease the feeling building inside his chest. 

“Mostly is still in that sentence,” he muttered, hand reaching to pick up another flute. “I’m not sure that did much to make me relax.” 

“We are strangers after all.” She turned to face him completely but did not hold out a hand when she introduced herself. 

Jack’s eyebrows rose. “Like . . . those Danforths?”

Her grin widened. “Again, you sound like you already know me.” 

“It’s hard to not when you look like someone I love but have the last name of the richest family in the world. This is definitely right out of a fanfiction or something.” 

“Or something. You still have yet to hand over your name, doctor,” she teased, but it landed weirdly in Jack’s chest. 

“Promise to not use it in your next ritual?” 

“On Satan’s head.” 

“Darling, are you scaring the poor doctors again?” someone said behind Jack, thankfully ending that conversation. 

For a moment, Jack let himself relax, finally out of the claws of the woman’s manicured hand. However, when the person rounded Jack to stick himself to the woman’s side, he blanched, because yet again, the man across from him looked like a version of himself. Well, a version of Jack who apparently wasn’t a doctor, sneezed into million-dollar tissues, and hunted people down as a hobby instead of volunteering for SWAT. 

The man’s eyes (the same hue as Jack’s) lit with glee. “So, the little dove really wasn’t lying when she said we shared a face.” 

His nickname for you burned a jealously Jack didn’t know he had, and now this couple was looking at him like a piece of meat to prey upon. Not knowing what else to do, Jack set down the now-empty flute on the bar. Danforth-you looked up at—yes, you had a very large ring on—her husband with fluttering eyes. 

“I wasn’t scaring him,” she whined. “Just making sure that we picked a good one. The last one wasn’t fun at all.” 

Again, that sounded way too sacrificial for Jack to relax or feel comfortable in the couple’s presense. 

“Brother, there you are!” Robby shouted like divine intervention. Hands landed down on his shoulders with a squeeze. “Gloria’s going to have my head if we’re not in the conference room for the next showing.” 

Jack tried (and failed) to give the Danforths a smile. “It was . . . lovely speaking to you two, but duty calls, right?” 

Before he could turn to leave, not-you reached into her clutch and pulled out a piece of paper. “For your hospital, doctor. Some of us rich bitches actually do care about your cause.” 

Jack was hesitant to take it but eventually did. His eyes widened like a cartoon when he saw the number of zeros. “I think this is a mistake?” 

“I don’t make mistakes, Dr. Abbot” she replied, closing up her clutch. “Titus, darling, I think we’re also needed somewhere else.” 

“Ah, yes, it is that time, isn’t it.” He smirked over at Jack. “Nice meeting this version of me. Say hello to your dove for me.” 

Words escaped Jack as the pair turned and left, leaving just him and Robby, who looked close to fainting, alone at the bar. 

“That’s it. No more galas for both of you,” Robby announced while steering Jack into the direction of the conference room. “Even if we get millions for the hospital, I am not losing you both to your Satan-worshipping twins.” 

Jack let out a large sigh. “Sounds like a good plan, brother.” 

_______________________

Jack was done. 

D-O-N-E; done. 

After the last version of you had been one look away from draining his blood dry while he lied across a black table, he believed that everything was out to get him. The first version of you had been okay; she was nice. The second crept into unsettling territory, but by the third and fourth, Jack was tired of second guessing himself every time he saw your eyes looking back at him. 

However, that didn’t mean he entirely walked right past the restaurant when he noticed you sitting by yourself at a table in the middle. No, he outright paused by the large window, chest curling at the thought of you eating alone. He glanced up at the restaurant’s sign, and a small glimmer of recognition bloomed. 

North & Vine had made quite the stir a few months ago when news articles poured in with reports that the beloved restaurant might lose its Michelin star. But since then, Jack was pleased to see that it had been able to keep the one and also win another. 

The area about North & Vine was beautiful at the edge of downtown, tucked between two older brick buildings and lit with the kind of warm amber lighting that convinced people they could afford appetizers even if they couldn’t. Getting a reservation was also unheard of if you hadn’t placed your name on the list by almost three months in advance. 

Which, that was another reason as to why Jack was so confused when he stood there watching you. To his knowledge, you’d never spoken about wanting to go. If you had, Jack would have made it possible. But there you were, sitting alone, looking contempt as hell with a plain glass of water in front of you. 

The other reason was because you had just texted him a few hours earlier with a selfie in front of the nurses’ station with the words: currently fighting for my life. 

It was beyond him how you’d apparently gone from that to peacefully waiting for a dinner. And apparently that mean that the situation alone deserved an investigation. So naturally, Jack walked inside and was immediately hit with the best smelling food he’d ever smelled before. 

But he wasn’t there to stop and smell the mashed potatoes; he was a man on a mission. He walked up to the hostess podium with a smile and pointed toward your table. 

“I know here.” 

The hostess smiled and moved to let him pass. 

Now, after four other encounters, Jack should have known better that the “you” sitting at the table probably wasn’t really you. But he didn’t. No lessons had been enough to stick in his head, because if there was one thing Jack Abbot learned about loving you, it was that he’d recognize you anywhere. 

Unfortunately, the universe kept proving that statement technically incorrectly every time. 

As he approached the table, nothing felt off at all. At least the other times, the other versions of you had looked different. The firefighter volunteer shirt, the detective vest, the beach-going outfit, the dress that looked like it costed more than his life was worth: they all were things Jack knew you wouldn’t wear. 

So seeing you in comfortable clothing, any of his regular alarm bells had gone silent. Because of this, he had no issues sliding into the empty seat across from you with a confused smile. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he asked. 

You looked up at him, almost taken back by his presence. “Not that I know of?” 

His eye brows pinched. “You texted me a few hours ago that you were fighting for your life at work.” 

“I don’t think so,” you replied, pulling out your phone from the small purse by your side. Your lip twisted before you looked back up at him. “And really, I couldn’t because I don’t have your number and—” 

“You don’t have my number?” Jack pushed out. “How is that possible—” 

“And really, it’s because I don’t know who you are.” 

Jack froze in his spot across from the now fifth version of you. Under the warm glow, it was downright uncanny how she looked exactly like you. If Brett was his spitting image, this woman was yours. Everything down to your phone color was the same. However, now that he was taking the time to look, once again, he found a nice-looking ring on her left finger. His face dropped in humiliation. 

“I am so sorry,” he muttered, hands coming up to cover his face. 

He missed the way she softly smiled at him. “It’s okay, really. You seemed innocent enough.” 

“I’m five seconds away from going back to the kitchen to drown myself in mop water.” 

She giggled. “I’m sure that this interaction isn’t bad enough to warrant that reaction.” 

“If you only knew how many times I’ve mistaken a stranger for my girlfriend then you’d understand that, yes, I’m having a believable reaction.”  Jack dropped his hands back down to the table and leaned back in the chair. “Jack Abbot, and now I’m seeing that you are not my girlfriend.” 

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” she stated, resting her chin against her hand. “Have you tried getting a bit more sleep?” 

He sighed. “My job sadly doesn’t allow for extra nap times, I’m afraid.”

That seemed to pique her interest. “Oh? What do you do?” 

“I’m the night shift attending at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.”

“That makes sense,” she said before picking up her water for a sip. “You look like the type to have that kind of job.” 

Jack pursed his lips. “Should I be offended by that?” 

“Not at all.” She paused. “I just mean that you look like the type of man to care for others more than you care for yourself. It’s admirable.” 

Her words hit him right in the gut, because you had said something similar to that during his and yours first argument after a SWAT raid had gone wrong, leaving him with a little more than a graze that time. His saliva suddenly felt thicker in his mouth as he swallowed it down. He guessed that this you was more similar to his you than he first thought. 

“That’s . . .” he trailed, not knowing if he wanted to say what he was thinking. “You sound just like her.” 

“Smart woman.” 

She was also right with that as well. 

For the first time since meeting your parallels, Jack felt comfortable enough to enjoy just sitting there to the point he wanted to see if there were any more similarities between the two of you. However, he was stopped short when a waitress stopped right at the table. 

“Mrs. Reilly? Chef wanted to talk to you.” 

“Thank you for letting me know,” she responded, already collecting her things before smiling back down at Jack. “Have a lovely evening. And if you ever want to bring your version of me here, I’ll make sure you get a table.” 

“Thank you,” Jack managed to spit out right as she turned to walk toward the back kitchen door. 

He had half a mind to leave, but he felt glued to his seat when the door swung open, revealing yet another mirror image of himself. He watched as the Mrs.-Reilly version looked at the man with love in her eyes while she spoke to him with a smile. The two glanced his way, his counterpart’s eyebrows also rising as he lifted a hand in a weird and awkward way. 

Jack smirked and waved back, rising to his feet to leave. He could have stayed, but seeing the two together just showed him how much he actually missed you. And if the universe decided to be kind to him, he hoped that he’d never have to miss you again if the ring in a shoebox back at his place had anything to say about it. 

_______________________

The universe, apparently, had decided it wasn’t quite finished tormenting him. 

By this point, he’d stopped trying to understand its ways. Five women with identical faces to yours should have been enough ground for him to quit life and move to New Zealand under a different name and become a sheep farmer. He didn’t know how much more humiliation his body could handle. At least now he though he knew what to look for: eyes that didn’t hold a special warmth for him, smiles that didn’t quite tilt correctly, faces that weren’t structure enough to form the face that belonged to the woman he loved. 

Every single encounter had taught him that much. Which was why he barely looked up when he entered the Pitt’s lobby and spotted you standing near the elevators. Finally, he had learned all the rules; he wasn’t going to say anything to you, humiliation be damned. 

Jack Abbot was going to win this war. 

The lobby bustled around him with usual chaos; he had nearly tripped over a patient in the hall and almost ran into Perlah as she crossed the floor to Trauma Room one. Somewhere, he heard pager buzz, and the ambulance light made him wince. 

Really, Jack wasn’t even supposed to be there, but you had just happened to leave your lunch in his truck . . . again. You could have gone without it, but apparently it consisted of an approximately fourteen-dollar takeout meal that you’d been excited about all morning. The number of times he’d rescued your forgotten meals was beginning to feel less like a favor for his girlfriend and more like a second job (that he really didn’t mind doing). 

When he stopped by the elevators, you finally glanced up. From the corner of his eye, Jack took in the similarities: your hair color, shoe brand, and surprisingly, a hospital ID. This one was close—very close. But not quite enough for him to say something. The others had ruined him. A few weeks ago, Jack would’ve walked right over. Now? Now he barely gave this sixth version of you a second glance. 

“Nope,” he muttered. “Not falling for it this time.” 

His voice had been just loud enough that your ears picked up on it. You turned and looked at him with a pinched face and deep frown. 

“Jack, what are you talking about?” 

“Nothing.” He pressed the elevator button, willing the machine to open quickly. “Absolutely nothing.” 

“Jack,” you stated, so very confused as to why he was acting like this.

He ignored you. This was exactly how the nonsense started. Familiar face, familiar voice, and the next moment he was somehow discussing ritual sacrifice with a stranger. But not today; today, he was smarter; today, he was prepared. 

“Nice try, but I’ve learned my lesson,” he said, eyes still glued to the elevator doors in front of him. “You look close enough that last week this might have worked.” 

You stared at him. “Are you having a stroke?” 

“See?” He finally pointed over at you. “That’s exactly the kind of thing she’d say.” 

If he took a moment to look over, he’d see the horrified look on your face. 

He sighed loudly. “Look. I’ve done this enough to know better—hey!”

You had grabbed his wrist and yanked him along. “Come here.” 

Jack stumbled forward. “What—” 

The direction you were pulling him was right into an open room. He didn’t even have a moment to react before you pushed him down right onto the bed. Your fingers held his face, and he winced when your pen light flashed in his eyes. 

“When was the last time you slept?” you questioned. “You’re not having a stroke because your face is perfectly fine. Is this dehydration? Concussion? Did you hit your head?” 

All while you were spitting out question after question, Jack stared ahead at you to the point that he finally guessed the universe was on his side, because after five different versions of you, this had to be his.

Mrs. Richards looked nice. 

Mrs. Bryant looked confused. 

Soon-to-be Mrs. Cody looked guarded. 

Mrs. Danforth looked bloodthirsty. 

Mrs. Reilly look endeared. 

But you? 

You looked at him with such concern that he could practically feel your love from him spilling out from your body. Suddenly, the ring in his pocket felt very heavy. 

“Sweetheart—” 

You ignored him. “Maybe this is a rare case of amnesia. Jack, what’s my name—” 

He grabbed your hands and held them. “Sweetheart, I’m fine. Actually, right now, I’m better than fine, unless you’re about to tell me that you don’t know who I am before another one of my doppelgangers reveals himself as either your husband or fiancé.” He faux shivered. “I cannot do that again.” 

You blinked slowly. “You met them?” 

“Sadly.” 

“You interacted with them.” 

“Extra sadly.” 

“How is the universe still standing?” 

He chuckled loudly. “Maybe because every version of me has a special version of you. We keep the world balanced, sweetheart.” 

An oomph left his chest when you all but threw yourself into his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you, keeping you against him. A helpless laugh escaped from your throat at the idea of Jack running into different versions of you. 

“Were you contemplating running into traffic after each one?” you asked. 

“Every single fucking time,” he replied with a groan. “Any small body of water also looked enticing for a drowning.” 

“I know right.” You finally pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “But at least you’re still here.” 

Jack closed his eyes when your hands rested against his cheeks. One of his hands rose and rested on top of yours. Even through all the drama, through all the embarrassment, he still had you, the one who truly cared for him through everything, even if you thought he was having a stroke. His other hand reached down for his pocket. 

“This wasn’t how I wanted to do this,” he said softly, “but after running into versions of you that weren’t mind, I realized that I’ve waited too long to do this.” 

He heard you softly gasp when he raised the ring. 

“I know six months isn’t that long, but damn it, sweetheart, I don’t know if I can wait any longer. You are the best thing that’s happened to me in forever. I really didn’t know if  I’d been capable of loving someone like I love you after losing my wife. But seeing that you still belonged to someone that looked like me in every version of you’s life, I wanted to have that, to have you.” 

Tears started falling down your cheeks as he spoke, hazel eyes never wavering from yours. 

“Will you please do me the honor of being my wife. Not a firefighter’s, not a cop’s, not a man who looks like he holds the baggage of the world’s, not a Satan-worshipping billionaire’s, and definitely not a chef’s wife, but the wife of a grumpy, old night shift attending who likes to get shot at on the weekends.”  

You were silent, but your head was nodding. 

Finally, your voice rang out with “Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times, yes.”

With shaking hands, Jack slipped the ring onto your finger before bringing you in for a kiss. He shivered at the feeling of the metal heating up against this skin, and his finger played with the diamond as his lips moved against yours. He wasn’t kissing you like he had six months ago, but it still held the same warmth and steadiness that his kissed always had. 

Jack pulled back after a while and rested his forehead against yours. “I’m glad you’re actually you.” 

You smiled and giggled. “And I’m glad you’re actually you, too.” 

His nose brushed yours before he pulled you into another kiss. 

Take that universe. 

🏷️ permanent tags: @dumb-fawkin-bitch @nofinnn2 @books-thingys-andstuff @nyxmoretti @glitterquadricorn @itzpixiebabe @xoxoloverb @macbaetwo @cerberus101 @thorfemmes @goddess-of-spring @staygoldsquatchling02 @obi-wansgirl @phantom-101 @fly-me-away @xblackcatx @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @aoi-warrior @keepingitundercover @sofianotvergara @shawnhatosysrightbicep @straykids1011 @vicky066 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @sepidehmoafiglazer @multiversalfandomwriter222 @bellamys-girl1 @violet1661 @damoclesdarling @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @fancyvoidtragedy

Pulling a double sucked. 

Actually—no—pulling a double was quite literally a nightmare carefully curated from hell. While you watched your fellow night crawlers get to go home and sleep, you stayed behind a chart, fingers lagging against the keyboard as your brain stuttered to find the right words. The Dunkin cup that John had so graciously brought you at the beginning of the shift had long since been refilled with literal burnt gas that had been filtered through dirt. No matter how much sweet cream you poured into it, the bitter taste still made you wince with every sip. 

The only silver lining of this whole ordeal was that Trinity and Dennis had promised to bring a fresh cup with them when they arrived in a few minutes for the start of their day shift. Normally, you’d be waiting for them, your belongings ready to go in your bag, to give them both a quick kiss before heading back to the shared apartment to fall asleep in the large bed that the three of you shared. However, with the upcoming weekend somehow being a day off for both Dennis and Trinity, you quickly asked to take someone’s shift so you could be off as well. The three of you hadn’t had time to spend together in what felt like weeks. 

So, if you had to pull a double from hell to spend a few days off with your lovers, you’d do it in a heartbeat, hence why you were pushing through double vision right as they walked in. 

Trinity spotted you and your frizzy hair first, and her small smile disappeared the closer she got. Her thermos clanked against the counter, making you jolt and turn her way with wide eyes. 

“I hate to say it, but you look awful,” she announced bluntly. 

You dragged a hand down your tired face. “You always know exactly what to say to a girl, Trin,” you muttered. 

She snorted before rounding the counter to place her hands on your shoulders. Your right hand lifted and gently rested on top of her hand. Squeezing lightly, your fingers held on as she began to gently massage the tense muscles beneath your scrub. 

“Did you sleep at all?” she asked. 

“Yeah. Abbot made me nap after we handled three overdoses in the span of two hours,” you replied. “It was not pretty.” 

“I bet.” She leaned down and pressed a small kiss to the side of your temple. “How long were you down?” 

“Couple hours . . . I think.” 

“You think?” 

You turned in your chair and stuck your head into her stomach. “Trin, it’s not even 7 yet. Can we not play interrogation today?” 

Even though you couldn’t see her face, you just had the feeling that she was smirking down at you. A quick lean back of your head confirmed your feelings. You breathed heavily against her scrub, the scent of the Tide you all shared filled your nose in a comforting way. The scrub you were wearing probably smelled like sweat and iodine, but you wondered if Trinity even cared going off the way she was holding onto you. 

After a few moments, you felt another presence arrive to your right. You pulled yourself from Trinity and looked up into wide blue eyes. 

“Good morning, Den,” you said with a wide smile. “Please tell me you brought coffee?”

Trinity snorted above you while patting the top of your head. “I think this one might die if you forgot her cup, Huckleberry.” 

“Good thing I packed her two then,” Dennis replied before putting the first cup down by your computer. 

You could have kissed him if HR wasn’t down your throat already. The cons of having both your partners working in the same department. You had also been day shift, but after the meeting, Gloria was quick to switch you over to Abbot’s kingdom of the creepy crawlies. Most days, you enjoyed the slower income of patients, but the lack of getting to see the two of them made you think of switching over to another department’s day shift. 

Dennis eyed you over with a flash of concern. “Did you sleep any last night?” 

“Wow,” you said dryly. “You and Trin should start a support group.” 

“She thinks she got in a couple of hours,” Trinity responded for you instead. “Though with the way she looks . . .” 

Your eyes narrowed up at her. “Again, you really know exactly what to say to a girl. Den, say something nice about me please.” 

The blond looked like he would rather kick a brick. “Um . . . your scrubs bring out your lovely eyes?” 

A loud grown flew from your lips. “I’m doomed. My boyfriend and girlfriend think I look ugly.” 

Dennis sputtered. “N-no. We didn’t say ugly—” 

“You look worn down, hun,” Dana announced behind him, gray eyes glancing your way. “Do I need to tell Abbot to lay off?” 

“No, Dana; last night was just rough,” you responded. You turned in your seat to now look at Dennis and Trinity, who had now sided up next to each other. “But in just twelve hours, we will be out of here and on our way to a relaxing weekend.” 

Trinity smirked. “Can’t believe your dad let us borrow his fucking cabin for the weekend.” 

“Family cabin,” you corrected. “Plus, he likes the two of you. Can’t say the same for my other partners before.” 

Dennis leaned against the counter. “Well, we have to go do handoffs. I’ll put your second coffee in the fridge for you.” 

That had you standing up from you chair and reaching out to hug him. He pulled you in quickly before parting. A stray curl had fallen in front of his eyes, and you were quick to fix it, Dennis’s eyes fluttering at the soft motion and feeling of your fingers in his hair. 

The moment was ruined when Dana started tsking through her teeth. “All right, love birds. Scram before Robby comes stomping through.” 

Trinity gave you one more look. “Are you going to be okay? I know you’re used to staying up during the night, but you normally don’t look this frazzled.” 

Your hands pushed at her in a soft nudge. “I’ll be fine. Imma finish up this chart, and then maybe Dana will be gracious enough to give me the easy cases.” 

“Sure, hun.”

“See? Now, go put your stuff up and stop worrying about me,” you said with a smile. 

They both held up their hands in surrender. 

“It’s our job to worry, though,” Dennis murmured before turning around to head toward the lockers. 

Trinity smiled once at you before following, and you all but swallowed the whine back down your throat as the two left, knowing the chart you had been working on was still unfinished. The chair squeaked under your weight, and the rhythmic sound of your typing almost put you back to sleep if it wasn’t for another tall body stepping in front of you. Your eyes glanced up and over the computer, and a groan threatened to creep up your throat. 

“What can I do for you, Ogilvie?” you asked like a sales person tired of meaningless questions, flat and bored. 

“Still can’t believe they’re both dating you.” 

Oh. So this was how it was going to go. 

“Well, they are. So, you can stop trying to make it make sense in your head.” 

Ogilvie should have taken the silent warning, but when had he ever? His next sentence had you pausing. 

“You know, it kind of makes sense though. You get two partners because obviously you can barely handle the nightshift workload. Especially if you’re looking like that.”

“Ogilvie!” Dana snapped. “Find Robby and get to your patients.” 

He at least had the audacity to look like he got caught saying the wrong thing, but the damage had already been done. For a moment, your ears rang, and a dizzying feeling flooded your body. His comment had been tossed out so casually like he really didn’t know what he was really implying. Suddenly, every mistake from last night felt bigger, every yawn felt like proof, every offer to help felt like you were grasping at straws. 

“You okay, hun?” Dana asked when you didn’t move for a solid minute. “He shouldn’t have said that.” 

You shook your head wildly like that might be enough to cast his words from your mind. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you muttered. “Do any rooms need me yet?” 

She eyed you warily before looking over her board. “Room twelve was just filled. Ten-month-old and dad. Sounds right up your alley.” 

You took the chart without question, already standing to your feet before she had even finished her statement.  “Thanks, Dana.” 

“You sure you don’t want to take a small break? We have more than enough residents to let it slide!” she yelled after you. 

“I’m sure!” you responded, your eyes already scanning the chart in your hand. 

The information taken by the nurse listed the 10-month-old brought in by their parents for feeding concern. It was routine enough on paper that nothing should’ve stood out. But the moment you pushed open the door and stepped inside, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling that was settling low in your stomach. 

_______________________

“Good morning, Mr. Davis,” you greeted, a warm smile spreading across your face as you stepped into the room, letting the door stay cracked opened just a tad. “My name is Dr. L/n, and I will be your baby’s physician today.” Your footsteps were soft as you walked over to the bassinet. “What brings this little one in this morning?” 

As he rattled off the symptoms in a rather frustrated tone, throwing in an I already told the nurse this but whatever, you took the moment to look over the baby, her blue eyes staring up at the ceiling with a detached sort of stillness that made your chest tighten. You gently reached in and started prodding, hoping to get a small reaction, but the baby didn’t even whimper. 

“—and she’s been having trouble with feeding. The thing probably hasn’t had a full bottle in two days—” 

That was concerning. If the baby hadn’t eaten, she should have been screaming, should have been fussing so loudly that someone should have already complained about a headache. 

“Do you remember how much she was able to get down the last time she did eat?” you asked, hands reaching for your stethoscope. 

The cold metal at least made her flinch but nothing more while you listened to her breathing. 

“I dunno. The sitter feeds her.” 

“Does the sitter not write things down?” 

“Fuck if I know.” 

You tried not to side eye him as you slid your stethoscope back around your neck. “When was her last urination and diaper change?” 

The dad looked toward the celling. “Probably yesterday? Look, I have to work to keep a roof over her head after her bitch mother left us.”

A small rash near her neck caught your attention, looking red and very angry like it hadn’t been cleaned properly in a few days. The unsettled feeling reared its head when you scribbled down your findings plus the weight of the baby, which was much lower than expected. You tried to school your face, but apparently the father could find small changes in your expressions rather than pay that close attention to his child. 

“What are you writing?” he asked, frustration already evident in his tone. 

You glanced up from the chart. “We’re required to document what we’re seeing. Nothing other than the standard findings are being written down.” 

His jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It doesn’t mean anything, sir. I’m just doing my job.” 

“You keep looking at me like I’ve done something,” he hissed while rising from the chair in the corner. “And you keep asking all these questions that I’ve already answered.”

You took note of how much taller he was than you. 

“I’m just speaking with you, Mr. Davis. If I can’t get a history, I won’t know how to help your daughter. It’s my job to get her the best care possible.” You kept your voice calm and measured, taking a step back toward the door without trying to make it obvious. 

Unfortunately, he noticed that too. His breathing changed into a rapid up and down motion that sounded like a bull ready to charge. You’d heard this before, and usually it ended with security being called in just in case. But sometimes, it ended worse, and you were scared that the pin was about to drop. You forced yourself to remain steady. 

“Mr. Davis, please understand that I’m just documenting medical information.” 

“You need to stop lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying—” 

“Yes, you are. You’re probably writing down all this untrue bullshit about me that’s going to get my kid taken away from me. Do you really want to try that?” 

You swallowed thickly. “No one is going to take your baby away from you.” 

He took another step forward, and then another, causing you to match him with one backward step, but the door was still too far away. Your hands shook as he continued stalking toward you all red in the face, shoulders heaving under heaving inhales. 

“You think I’m some kind of bad father? Huh?” he spat. 

“Sir—” 

“You think I’m hurting my baby?” 

“I never said anything like that—” 

“But you’re fucking thinking it. Aren’t you?” his voice rose with every word. 

Behind him, the baby finally began to cry, however, it seemed like the sound only made him angrier. One look into his eyes showed you the panic and rage bleeding right through. Faintly, you remembered what training taught you on de-escalation. On the other hand, your instincts screamed at you to get the hell out of the room and find Robby. 

“Sir,” you tried again carefully, “I think we should take a small minute—” 

His hand slammed against the wall beside your head, effectively getting through to your brain that he now had you trapped with no way to slip out safely. The impact made you flinch violently. His hot breath hit your face, and you tried to turn away from the feeling. For one small moment, he didn’t move, and the sound of the baby wailing filled the room before his hands shot out at your neck. The sheer force of it knocked the breath from your lungs as your back hit the wall hard enough to rattle your teeth. 

Pain exploded across your neck and down your spine. You gas[ed instinctively, fingers instantly clawing at his wrist in attempts to get him off of you. He moved his face closer toward yours. 

“What the fuck did you write?” he shouted. “You think I’m hurting my kid? Neglecting her when I’m the only one fucking working to keep a roof over her head?” 

Your vision blurred as oxygen failed to reach your lungs. Through the haze, you at least remembered to plant your feet to create space, trying to keep your airway open under his fingers. He must have realized what you were doing, because the next moment, he tightened his grip even more, thumbs now pressing against your windpipe. A gurgled choaking sound ripped through your throat, and the sound of rushing blood flooded your ears. You tried to push back against him, but he was way too big for the attempts to do any good.  

Straining, you turned your head toward the door, jaw dropping to take any small gulps of oxygen you could so that you could yell. The words barely came out, the sound all strained and broken. 

“Hula—” You coughed violently. 

Under his grip, your face was becoming tight and red. Finally, like an open door, he adjusted his grip just enough for you to scream with every bit of breath you had left—

“HULA HOOP!” 

_______________________

Dennis and Trinity had seen you work exhausted before. 

Really, though, everyone in the Pitt worked exhausted. Long shifts, missed lunches, and enough caffeine to kill a small animal came with the territory. But the two guessed that they’d never seen you that tired, where you looked ready to drop to the nasty ER floor and take a nap there. 

Most of the time, they trusted you to know your own limits. You were stubborn as hell, but you weren’t reckless; you couldn’t be, especially since they knew you were wanting to get into a different department. However, that didn’t mean they could just shake the feeling of seeing you look so run through earlier that morning. 

“You know she’s going to crash eventually, right?” Dennis muttered, leaning against the counter while he held a tablet like he hadn’t actually read the thing through in the last three mintues. “This is—what?—her third double this month?” 

Across from him, Trinity was typing notes into one of the computers. “Yep. I think Robby’s going to deny her next request for one.” 

“Good. I think she’d rather die than actually admit she’s tired.” 

“Sounds like her.” 

“I mean this in the nicest way towards our girlfriend, but she looked awful.” 

“I know.” 

Dennis sighed. “You’re not helping me out here.”

Trinity turned around to look at him. “What exactly do you want me to do, Huckleberry? Chain her to our bed and force her to sleep for more than five hours?” 

“I’d pay money to watch you try. She’d probably kick you.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’d have you to hold her down.” 

He smiled at that before it dropped. His blue eyes roamed the department floor, desperate to at least catch a glimpse of you, but when you didn’t rush past, he turned toward Dana. 

“Hey, Dana?” Dennis called out toward the blond lady currently rewriting something on her board. “Do you know where Y/n is?” 

Dana didn’t even glance his way when she answered. “Room twelve, but she’s been in there a hot minute. Wouldn’t blame her though.” 

The last bit had been muttered but still loud enough that Dennis and Trinity caught it, their faces pinching in confusion. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Trinity asked. 

“One of the med-students said something to her earlier. Saw the light just go out in her eyes.” 

Something in both of their chests clenched hard. 

“Do you know what it was about?” Dennis questioned. 

“Said she couldn’t carry the workload, and that’s why she’s with the two of you instead of having just one partner. Kid doesn’t know it’s fucking 2026 for goodness’ sake.” 

A feeling close to rage bubbled through their skin. From the summed-up statement, they could only guess that the med student who ran his mouth to you was probably Ogilvie. Trinity had half a mind to find him, but a shout from across the way had her freezing in place. 

“HULA HOOP!”

Dennis felt ever muscle in his body lock, because under the panic, he could never forget what your voice sounded like. Even though it was distorted by pain, it was truly yours. Their world snapped into motion, and the two took running towards room twelve with security and staff flooding behind them. 

Adrenaline hit them so hard their hearts pounded against their sternums. As they drew closer, the wails of a baby reached their ears. Dennis was first to throw the door open, internally grateful that you had left the door cracked enough so that it couldn’t have been locked at all. For a horrible second, he couldn’t even process what he was seeing. 

Your red face, body desperate for oxygen, and terrified eyes had him halting to access the man holding you against the wall. He didn’t even wait for security before he was tackling the man like a linebacker for the NFL. The two collapsed in a squirming mess on the ground, but years of wrangling farm animals had Dennis pinning the man down before he could retaliate. Like you, the man was definitely twice his size, but Dennis wasn’t going to let him back up in case he went after you again.  

When the man’s grip was finally loosened and gone, you collapsed forward, back sliding down the wall until you were seated on the floor. Violent coughs erupted in sporadic waves, and your hands gently touched your throat before dropping back down to your chest in a mad attempt as if feeling your chest expand would somehow draw in more air. Your head spun, and everything around you went fuzzy. The lights blurred, the sterile scent burned, but somehow, you didn’t flinch when strong hands rested on your shoulders. 

You somehow knew they belonged to the same woman that let you lean on her earlier that morning. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Trinity said, really trying not to bark the words out to not scare you any further. “Look at me.” 

Your eyes refused to meet hers, and every breath you tried to get down felt like glass as your lungs fought desperately to recover from the lack of oxygen. Panic started to crawl through Trinity’s body the longer you were unresponsive. Her hands gently traced from your shoulders and up to your jaw; her fingers gently lifted your face so she could see the damage. 

Behind her, security was finally helping Dennis detain Mr. Davis while a nurse was quick to grab the baby in attempts to quiet her wailing. Another presence dropped to his knees to Trinity’s right. 

“What happened?” Robby asked, pushing his hands toward you so he could also assess your state. 

His brown eyes fixated on the angry mottled bruises already forming around your neck. This time, you did finch when his fingers softly dug into the hurting skin. While he felt for any breaks in your airway, Trinity was already pressing her stethoscope onto your chest. 

“She’s tachypneic,” she called out to the attending. 

You tried to sputter something out, but another coughing fit interrupted you. Robby’s hands stilled around your face. 

“Don’t talk,” he muttered before gently pushing your head down to check the back of your head. “Answer with a nod or a shake. Did you hit your head?” 

A nod. 

“Did you lose consciousness?” 

A shake. 

“Are you nauseated? Dizzy?” 

Another shake. 

Robby looked toward Trinity. “There’s no laceration, and we can probably rule out a concussion.”

You gave him a look that totally said I could have told you that. The fact that Trinity could see some of your personality shining through eased her tension just a bit but still not enough for her to actually relax. 

Dennis finally appeared and crouched at Trinity’s left. Your eyes widened when you spotted a fresh tear in his scrub top, while his narrowed when they settled on the bruising around your neck. In real time, you watched the color drain from his face. 

Trinity noticed the distant look in your eyes and snapped her fingers a few inches away from your face. “Hey, stay with us, okay?” 

You managed the smallest nod, just enough confirmation that you were still there. Behind him, movement caught your eye in time for you to watch security escort the man from the room in handcuffs while the nurse carried the baby out behind them. The threat was gone, but your body refused to loosen. 

Robby stood, knees audibly cracking with the motion. “Okay, let’s get her to a bed. Can someone get me a gurney—” 

He wasn’t even able to finish before Dennis leaned forward and scooped you up into his arms. He hated the way your body felt limp, almost like a rag doll, in his grasp. Trinity followed the two of you as he passed the station, asking Dana what room was open. When he got his answer, he was quick to carry you through and gently place you onto the open bed. 

And throughout the whole ordeal, you kept a hold on Trinity’s hand like a lifeline to keep you stable. Robby followed through, and even though Dennis and Trinity weren’t subject to stay there, the two didn’t seem particularly interested in letting you out of their sight. 

_______________________

When all was said and done, you were finally given an ice pack to hold against the side of your neck as Robby finished documenting his assessment. While he talked, the bruising and swelling had definitely become more pronounced over the last few minutes. Every swallow hurt, and every cough hurt more. Even when he told you that nothing appeared seriously damaged, you couldn’t help but question if he was telling the truth to calm you down or if he was being genuine. 

“Now, I know that you know, but if the pain gets worse, you need to tell someone immediately.”

You nodded, still too scared to speak. 

“Or if your breathing gets to be too difficult.” He sighed loudly. “Now because of this, you’re going to stay in here for the rest of the day.” 

You opened your mouth to answer, but one glare from him had your jaw snapping shut again. 

“Good choice not to argue.” 

You rolled your eyes but winced when the movement made your neck ache. For your sake, they all pretended not to notice. Dennis looked away from where he was sitting in the chair nearest the bed, while Trinity crossed her arms from where she was leaning against the wall by the door. Neither of them had spoken much during the exam, and it made you nervous. Their silence should have been reassuring and not feeling like standing in front of a firing squad waiting for someone to say ready, aim.

Robby gathered the last of his paperwork, and his gaze moved between all three of you. “Keep her in the bed please.” 

Trinity saluted when he passed. “Oh, we’ll make sure of it.” 

Your attending gave you one last look before slipping back into the department. The second the door clicked shut, the room became painfully quiet. You dropped the icepack between your legs and stared at it; Dennis and Trinity stared at you. 

The firing squad had apparently received authorization to begin. 

Fire. 

“I know . . . what you both are thinking,” you managed to croak, finding that talking didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. 

Trinity rolled her eyes with an ease that made you jealous. “Then you should know exactly what we’re going to say then.” 

You stayed quiet, really not knowing. 

Dennis sighed before standing to get closer to you. His hand reached across and took a hold of yours as he looked into your eyes. “What happened?” 

Your tongue ran across your lips. “He got upset.” 

“Oh, really? Didn’t notice,” Trinity snarked sarcastically, earning her a glare from Dennis.

“Trin.” 

“Fine.” 

You shifted slightly on the bed. “I thought I could handle it. He was angry and upset, but people get like that often. I thought I could . . . I don’t know . . . calm him down if I just explained things better.” 

Tears started down your cheeks, surprising you at the feeling. You hadn’t cried when Mr. Davis chocked you out, hadn’t cried during the assessment, hadn’t cried when security wrangled him out of the room. Yet, your vision blurred the moment your boyfriend and girlfriend looked at you with such a profound concern. 

“Was he agitated when you walked in?” Trinity asked. 

“A little.”

She sighed, the sound laced the tiniest bit with disappointment. “Then why didn’t you come get someone? You know better, baby.” 

Your shoulders rose in a shrug. “I just didn’t—” You squeezed your eyes shut. “Didn’t want to seem too needy.” 

Dennis leaned in a bit. “Is this because of what Ogilvie said?” 

Your eyes flew open. “How do you—” 

“That’s not important. I’m asking you if you thinking you could calm down a man twice your size with just words is because of what he said?” 

A flap of skin from around your nail caught under your finger. “Maybe.” 

The single word broke something inside both of them. You’d listened to the false accusation so much that you could have been killed, and they wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. You, their sweet, loving partner, gone because of someone’s judgmental words. The thought caused anger to rise through their chests again. 

Trinity sat down on the bed. “I’m only going to say this once, so you better listen.” Her hands rose and angled your face so that you’d be looking at her. “We’re not with you because we think you can’t handle anything. We’re not with you because we doubt your abilities as a doctor. We’re not with you because somehow that makes you needy if you only have both of us.” She inhaled sharply. “We’re with you because we love you. We believe in you so much. And thinking that you could have died today because a med student thought it was appropriate to put in his two cents about our relationship makes me want to strangle him.” 

You laughed softly. “What about the Hippocratic oath?” 

“Fuck the Hippocratic oath. No one is going to stand around telling my girlfriend that she can’t handle being a damn good doctor.” 

Dennis nodded along. “And you know that sometimes it is perfectly okay to not have everything handled. We’re dating a human, not a robot. Plus, what are we supposed to do if you don’t need us?” 

You mulled their words over, finally relaxing under their gaze. Deep down, you knew they were right. But through the exhaustion of staying up all night and pulling a double, your walls had been down enough to accept the words to the point they became the truth. But now, with them looking at you and reassuring you like this, you couldn’t help but accept their words instead. 

The two of them noticed the moment your body sagged against the bed as the fatigue you’d been ignoring since they got their returned with a vengeance. 

“So,” Dennis said carefully. 

“Nope. Not doing whatever you’re thinking of,” you said immediately. 

“You haven’t even heard my idea.” 

“I know it’s going to involve me sleeping.” 

Trinity pursed her lips. “Well, Robby did say that we needed to keep you in the bed.” 

You groaned loudly. “Fuck Robby.” 

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” 

Dennis looked at Trinity with a smirk. “I’m amazed she’s still conscious.” 

“Fuck you too, Dennis.” 

He patted your leg. “Just wait for the weekend.” 

A heat rose so quickly through your face at the implication that it made him and Trinity laugh. The sound almost had you falling asleep then and there. Dennis stood and pulled a blanket from a nearby cabinet, and before you could say anything else, he draped it over you with Trinity tugging at the corner to tuck it beneath your chin. 

“You two are so annoying. Can’t believe you’re ganging up on the injured,” you whined. 

“Go to sleep,” Trinity replied. 

“Can’t—” You yawned loudly. “Can’t make me.” 

Dennis hummed. “Yeah, you’ve got about thirty seconds before you pass out.” 

You grumbled but shifted into a comfortable sleeping position anyway, all the fight draining out of you in a matter of moments. Your eyes drifted shut, because, really, the mattress beneath you felt surprisingly comfortable, and the blanket was warm. However, the real reason you were able to drift was the steady presence of Dennis and Trinity hovering by your bed. 

“Love you both,” you managed to slur before going silent. 

Trinity smiled down at your now sleeping figure before leaning over to place a quick kiss to your forehead. “Love you too.” 

Dennis mirrored her action. “Sleep well, angel.” 

Neither of them realized you were still partially awake enough to hear them. But as they stepped out of the room with the light going out, you smiled softly, finally drifting into the much needed nap.