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You should have known that the moment your mother brought home Titus Danforth that your life would never be the same. 

Like most mid-life crises (even if she was only 35), you thought she would have bought a super car or left you behind to go galivanting in Europe on a cruise. Somehow, that would have been easier than having to wait months after the wedding to find out that she had died suddenly. Because then you would have been able to look her in the eyes and damn her for everything she had done. 

Really, she had never been a good mother. 

Between getting pregnant with you at 20-years-old and cheating on your father before you’d been born, your life hadn’t been the easiest. It seemed like every day she found a new way to blame you for her misfortune. No matter what you did to placate her mood swings and horrible habits, you were always on the receiving end of her wrath. You’d learned at a young age to not be seen or heard especially when she had her always revolving company come by the house. 

It really wasn’t until Titus came over more than twice when you realized that your mother had farther intentions. 

Not even three months later, the two were engaged with the wedding planned in a one-month advance. 

During that time, Titus tried; he really did. He knew he’d never actually be a father to you, that was for certain. But while your mother was busy believing she was wringing his bank accounts dry, he was making sure you had someone pick you up from school, helping you with your business homework, and asking Ursula if she’d be willing to help him make sure that you’d be taken care of when he inevitably sacrificed your mother. 

He'd washed his hands of you. 

You’d be fine without him is what he told himself. 

But when he dug deeper into your family tree, a weird wash of emotion filled his chest at the empty blanks. If he didn’t stay in your life, you’d have no one. No father, no grandparents, no weird aunt and uncle who would be willing to take you in for a couple of years before you legally could be on your own. 

Titus knew what not having a mother could do to one’s psyche. Obviously, it had happened to him, and he was well aware enough to know that he wasn’t normal even without the whole devil worship and blood sacrifices. 

So, when he showed up out of the blue almost three months after he scrubbed your mother’s blood out of his finger nails, you didn’t know whether to feel relief or anger.

You settled on somewhere in the middle of bitter teenage angst and wife whose husband came back from war. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you bit, eyes blazing as you looked at Titus. “If my mother ended up running out on you and you want revenge, you’ll have to get in line.” 

Titus couldn’t help but chuckle at your spitfire. “The opposite really. I’m here to take you home.” 

Your brows pinched. “Home?” 

“Yeah, kid. Home.” 

Because apparently in that large, centuries-old book the short man had read to you after you arrived at the biggest building—is this even a house you had asked on arrival—there were no rules or hidden clauses about adopting a child after the marriage had already gone through. And in one palm slash and your name written in your own blood, you’d become a Danforth heir. 

However, that didn’t mean Titus was going to send you right into their ways. Ursula also agreed with him, even after a few arguments. If you were going to be their ward, they didn’t want to scare you off which might end in your untimely demise as well. 

They started slowly. 

You began with riding lessons, history lectures, and a few hours each day practicing fencing. Each skill they put you in, you somehow exceeded more than they thought you would. In just a few months, you were following Titus into business meetings and accompanying your aunt across the globe to deal with their assets.

Your first kill came about half a year into living with your stepfather. The game had been simple enough: a small round of tag. 

Titus was nervous when you picked up the Chinese Hook Sword with gleaming eyes. However, all jitters fled his body after you swung the weapon and effectively “tagged” the victim, the deep hook sinking into his shoulder. He almost couldn’t believe you had done so well, and pride bloomed deep in his stomach. 

And as you smiled at him, blood dripping from your coat sleeves, Titus couldn’t help but think that, yes, you were his kid. 

y/n.danforth has posted

liked by grace.jessup, tom_vance, trishA, and 3,029 others

y/n.danforth cannot wait for the weekend 🫩

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trinity.caido girl fencing almost ended me 💔

y/n.danforth tell me about it 😪 it will be too soon the next time I hear piste

trinity.caido preach preach preach

tom_vance cannot believe I got beat by a child

y/n.danforth should I send you a picture of the trophy again so you can believe it?

tom_vance you're such a brat

y/n.danforth I get it from my dad 😛

charliewilkinson please tell me you'll be at the compound for lunch tomorrow? I don't think I'll survive another meal without you

y/n.danforth Charlie I wish but my auntie and dad are taking me to Greece for the weekend

charliewilkinson boooooo bring me with you

y/n.danforth I would in a heartbeat

grace.jessup is that a new iPad......

y/n.danforth maybe 🫣

grace.jessup this is the fourth one this month

y/n.danforth you should see how many my dad goes through in a week

y/n.danforth has posted

liked by trinity.caido, charliewilkinson, wan.jin, and 2,348 others

y/n.danforth a smile would be nice 🙃

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grace.jessup girl I'm sorry to say but your dad is HAWT

y/n.danforth EW NO?

grace.jessup relax he's not even on instagram

y/n.danforth he finds out sooner or later.....

charliewilkinson can't believe you'd choose a cat over me 💔

y/n.danforth the cat is better company I'm afraid

charliewilkinson right to the heart man

trinity.caido how'd the "conference" go

y/n.danforth it went super well! dad said you could join next time too. he knows how much we enjoy going after those representatives

trinity.caido oh sick

tom_vance is your aunt single?

y/n.danforth I'm going to pray you delete this soon

Robby hadn’t meant to be away from his phone for very long, but between the chaos of July 4th and the preeminent doubts of if he’d actually be coming back after three months, the device had been farthest from his mind and even farther from his pocket. 

Even now as he towered over the bassinet, the only thing on Robby’s mind was how innocent the small creature was compared to the tons-heavy load he carried in his soul, and how both of them, two sides of the scale, had been left to face the world alone. His chest ached more than it ever did; each breath desperately pushing against his ribs like they were trying to break free. Each small sound the baby made had Robby freezing, waiting for her to cry out like she had earlier. But each time, she ended up contently sighing before stilling, wide eyes looking up at him and his sorrow ladened face. 

He couldn’t help but reach out, desperate for one more small grasp of her entire, tiny hand around the width of his finger. A small chuckle bubbled from his chest when she was quick to do what he was wishing for. 

“You have a good grip,” he muttered with a small smile. “That’s good; means you’re already so nice and strong.” His smile slowly dropped. “You’re going to be just fine.” He paused before adding, “That’s more than I can say about myself.” 

All day, he withered away under the sad stares of his colleagues. Dana had briefly mentioned that she was nervous for him, Jack tried to get him to understand that, if he gave life a chance, everything could be better, and hell, even Whitaker tried to laugh about his offering of his house—not home, because it was too sterile to be called that—if he actually never returned. But when he saw the hopelessness in Baran’s eyes after he chastised her and threatened her job, or when he saw the burning resentment build in Samira’s after he degraded her for something so normal as a panic attack, or when he saw humiliation in Frank’s after he’d pretend not to care about his once protégé who was able to get his act together far better than he would ever, Robby couldn’t help but think that, yes, they were all going to be so much better without him. 

Robby couldn’t survive without the Pitt, but the Pitt could thrive without Robby. 

Without even realizing, tears started dripping down his cheeks again. 

He tried to wipe them away with his unoccupied hand, but the streams kept coming and coming, years of stunted and repressed emotions finally coming out in waves against the sand of his skin. 

How pathetic he thought himself to be. You have friends, a job, a house, and you’re crying while this baby has no one, and she’s perfectly content to hold onto your touch-starved finger. 

It couldn’t have been a few more mere minutes of enjoying the small bit of company before the door burst open, Robby’s shoulders hunching and body tensing instinctively. But his finger stayed still in the baby girl’s finger, every ounce of his body not wanting to be the cause of more cries from her little lungs. 

His neck turned stiffly, allowing his eyes to meet Dana’s gray hues. He looked back down quickly almost to hide the state of his obvious tear-stained face. 

“Yeah, Dana?” he asked gruffly. 

If she was about to lay it on him again, then he might have to leave the room and get headed on the road before anyone could stop him from leaving. That’s where he was supposed to be. He should have left the moment his shift was over with his bike between his legs, engine rumbling as he sped down the interstate, letting his hair freely catch the wind. He shouldn’t still be in the room, letting this abandoned baby hold onto him like a lifeline, allowing her to touch his tainted hands. 

“Phone’s been ringing off the hook, Cap,” she stated, holding the device up in one hand. “Ya currently have ten missed calls and a handful of messages.” 

Robby’s brows furrowed. He didn’t know who would be calling him that much when everyone who seemed to care about him was currently within the Pitt’s walls. 

“Is there a caller ID?” he asked, spine straightening while his finger stayed still. 

“Just a number,” she responded before walking the device over to him. 

Once it was in Robby’s hand, the device fell silent under his gaze. He thumbed through the messages without unlocking the phone, but as he strolled, the generic Please call me and Please answer it’s an emergency did nothing to help his utter confusion. For a moment, he wondered if someone had the wrong number until the first message at the very bottom read Michael, please pick up.

He had barely been able to type a few words into the message bar—one handed mind you—when the phone buzzed again, the same number flashing across the screen. He didn’t hesitate to swipe across for the call to go through. 

“This is Michael Robinavitch,” he said into the speaker. 

“Michael?” the shaky voice answered, and a small thank God followed in a whisper. 

Robby should have recognized the number, but the sound of your voice solidified his realization. However, his short-lived confusion quickly turned into deepened concern when your sob echoed in his ear and was trailed by a series of unintelligible words filled with harsh breathing and a few muffled whimpers. 

“Hey, hey,” he said. “Sweetheart, I need you to breathe.” 

Dana, who wasn’t privy to what you were saying, or at least trying to say, widened her eyes at the casual pet name that Robby said without much thought, almost like it was familiar between his teeth and tongue. 

Robby paid no mind to the charge nurse, suddenly more concerned with figuring out what the hell was going on. He couldn’t help but wince at the shuddering inhale and exhale that you took at his authority. 

“Okay, okay,” he said after a few more quiet moments. “What’s going on?” 

You whimpered again in response. “M-my ex w-was supp-supposed to—oh, fuck—” 

It hurt him to hear you so close to hyperventilating while he could only listen. “Hey,” he said a bit harder, trying to get you out of a panic. “You need to breathe before I can even try to help you with what’s going on, okay?” 

Dana got his attention with a wave of her hand. Robby looked up in time to see her mouth Do I need to call 911? to which he shook his head and mouthed back Not yet. 

When your breathing slowed a bit, you tried again. “He was supposed to be taker our—my baby to an app-appoint-appointment and now—” Another failed attempt at keeping another whimper in. “Now he doesn’t ha-have her and w-won’t tell me where sh-she is.” 

Robby’s grip on his phone tightened to the point of his knuckles going white, his eyes briefly falling to the baby who currently had fallen asleep holding onto him. 

“I-I know sometimes people take them to f-fire stations, but I called each one in the area, a-and they all said that no one’s dropped any b-babies off. Then I tried hospitals, and r-remembered you worked at one, and I just—” You inhale sounded watery this time. “Just hoped that you might h-have heard something,” you squeaked out the last bit, already biting back another sob. “I’m so-sorry for calling, but—” 

“How old is your baby, sweetheart?” he asked calmly. 

“Five weeks,” you sniveled out. “She’s five weeks today. And—oh gosh—how could this happen?” 

He could almost imagine you gripping your hair and tugging tightly at the roots as you spoke, something he knew you’d do under duress. He’d seen it happen too many times to count throughout college and well into adulthood.

“Do you know the last time he had her?” 

“He picked her up t-this morning. I’m so fucking stupid,” you hissed, voice sounding the steadiest since the call went through. “I had work, and my mom couldn’t take her so-so I thought—I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Robby leaned over the bassinet again, eyes quickly scanning the sleeping baby, finger released form her grip in order to pull her small onesie down just enough to see her shoulder. “Does she have any identifying marks?” 

The line went silent for a split second. “She has a small birthmark on her shoulder. I swear it looks like messed up puzzle piece.” 

A rush of air filled Robby’s lungs to the point he felt dizzy. Staring up at him was the exact, described mark on Baby Jane’s shoulder. The baby that he’d been spilling his woes to was your baby, belonging to the girl who’d truly had his heart for years. 

“Sweetheart—” he began before you interrupted him. 

“I’m so sorry for calling so much, but I thought that if anyone knew anything, it’d be you.” 

Robby held the phone silently to his ear. You could have called anyone: the police, the main line, other hospitals where they might not have taken you seriously. Instead, after calling the firehouses with the drop boxes, you called him.

“Earlier today,” he started, his voice now on the edge of also being shaky, “one of my nurses found a baby in the waiting room.” 

Robby kept the part about where exactly in the waiting room she was found in to himself. He closed his eyes at your sudden, hopeful gasp. 

“A heathy, happy, and unharmed baby we estimated to be around six weeks.” He paused. “She has the mark, sweetheart. I think we have your baby here.” 

_______________________

You knew you probably looked like an escaped insane asylum patient. 

Wide eyes, trembling hands, hair messed up from pulling on it one too many times: all the wonkiness of your appearance was just a physical manifestation of hours upon hours of stress beyond measure. You tried to reign it in, but ever since Robby confirmed that your spiteful ex, in attempts to push you over the edge, had abandoned your baby all while you were working, your emotions were close to bursting out of skin. 

Somehow though, you managed to wade through the crowd waiting to be seen and get to the plexiglass shielded clerk desk without startling anyone. The kind woman behind the shield smiled up at you. 

“What brings you in, honey?” 

Your fingers twirled the ring around your pointer. “I’m here to see Michael Robinavitch?” 

Robby hadn’t told you where to come in, and even if he had, your head spun so fast that most of the words he said after I think we have your baby here was everything but audible past the roar of blood in your ears. You’d jumped into your car and drove straight here. And even if he had reassured that your baby was unharmed, you couldn’t be convinced until she was back in your arms. 

The woman had barely opened her mouth to answer before the door to your right clicked opened with Robby’s hand splayed widely against the metal and his body standing in the space between the waiting room and the ER. 

“Hey, sweetheart. You wanna come with me?” he asked, eyes filled with a soft kindness that had your tummy flipping.

You could barely contain the bob of your head as you walked over. Without even thinking much, you took a handful of Robby’s green pull over. Robby either didn’t care or didn’t notice since he said nothing while he took deliberate steps toward the room that had been housing the baby since there hadn’t been any room in the pediatric ward. 

He held the door open, and you quickly slipped past him, stopping just a few feet inside when you noticed the room wasn’t completely empty. A blond woman was currently hovering over the medical bassinet, however, she looked up at the sound of the door opening, her mouth stretching into a small smile. 

Robby let the door shut behind him, placing his hand on the small of your back before introducing you to the woman. “Dana’s our dayshift charge nurse. She made sure that if your baby needed anything, she’d get it.” 

You nodded mutely, slightly taken back by how sure Robby said your baby like something inside him subconsciously knew that she belonged to you and you alone. 

“You have a fine baby here,” Dana said, voice twanged with an accent. “Spent all day being loved on by our staff and taking naps between.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered, not taking your eyes off the squirming baby. “Can I?” 

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” Robby murmured with a soft push. 

Your steps were ginger and quiet as you walked closer. The moment your eyes traced her familiar features, a quiet sob bubbled through your lips. At the sound, your baby turned her head, small eyes tracking your face, even if you knew all she could probably see was a large blob. It wasn’t long until your hands were gently sliding under her neck and bottom and lifting her close to your face. You couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief as you nuzzled into her soft cheek. 

Apparently, the feeling was familiar enough that it made the baby smile slightly. She grunted and cooed against you as your hold readjusted her onto your chest. Her small hands immediately clenched fistfuls of your shirt while her head stayed pressed to your front. 

Robby and Dana couldn’t help but smile when you began to sway and gently press kisses onto her small head. 

“Hi, Shelly,” you muttered, nose taking in so much of her baby scent. “My sweet baby.” Your eyes watered to the point even a few blinks didn’t clear up your eyesight. You kept her close as you spun to face the other two occupants of the room. “Thank you both so, so much.” 

Dana smiled warmly. “We’re just glad she has a home.” Her grey eyes subtly glanced at Robby. “Now, I’m going to find our social worker, and get you some paperwork before you can take your little one home.” 

Your grip tightened ever so slightly. “Social worker?” 

Robby was quick to answer. “Just part of the process of getting her home. How bout I stay with you while Dana here gets all that in order.” 

With another nod of your head, the blond slipped out the door, leaving you and Robby alone with your baby, whose eyes were currently looking right over in his direction, something you didn’t miss at all. 

“She’s looking at you,” you softly said, eyes downcast at the top of her head. “Must mean she likes you.” You looked up at him. “Michael, I just can’t begin to thank you—” 

You stopped when he held up a hand. 

“No need,” he interrupted. “It’s all part of my job, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, well, you stayed on the phone with me and talked me out of a panic. I count that as something.” 

Robby took a step closer, his right shoulder leaning a bit on your left as he looked down at her. “You made a very cute baby. Can’t believe how much time has passed since . . .” 

You glanced up over your shoulder and into his brown, sad eyes. “It has; hasn’t it? What are you up to? Other than running an emergency department, I mean. You used to talk about doing so all the time, but you must have a hobby or something.” 

He hesitated because, really, other than the ER he had nothing, meanwhile it seemed like you had done everything that he wanted: have a partner, get married, build a family. With a shake of his head, he rid himself of those thoughts. His hand rose and scratched at the back of his neck, blunt nails digging into his skin. 

“Other than my upcoming sabbatical, I don’t have very much going on,” he replied, voice tired and worn beyond anything you’d ever heard. 

“Oh.” You finally turned around fully, Shelly now the only thing between the two of you. “Well then, I must insist you come over for dinner. I know it’s late and that you have plans, Micheal, but please.” With all of Shelly’s weight in one arm, you gently rested your other hand on his bicep. “For us?” 

Now, truly, there was a lot that could make Micheal Robinavitch say no. Plans made between residents for drinks after shift were always politely declined, women who got the hots for the doctor title were horribly left on read after the second date, and urges to go to therapy by his closest friend were quickly shoved into his back pocket. 

However, one of the few things that could actually break his will power was the soft look you were giving him right now. The one that made it seem like the large gap of years hadn’t passed at all. The one he always thought was full of love before the two of you found different paths to take. 

He found himself agreeing before his brain even caught up. “Dinner sounds great.” 

And if he could keep that shining smile on your face for a bit longer, Robby decided that he’d stay for as long as possible just to see you look up at him like that.  

_______________________

Dinner, in his opinion, was the best meal he’d eaten in a long while. Between the sabbatical countdown and endless shifts that only gave him a few minutes to shove a bite of protein bar between his teeth, Robby was never one to make dinner or meal prep once he went back to his house. The walls were there only to shield him from the outside as he slept fitfully. 

But here in your home—home not house, because obviously you made the building into something warm—he found himself wishing he could stay forever. You had even let him hold onto Shelly while you cooked, letting your baby sleep against his heart like she’d known his feeling for ages. His big hands almost engulfed her entire, tiny body, and he caught you looking his way several more times than he thought necessary. 

Robby hadn’t even realized how late it was by the time you put Shelly down to sleep, he was sunken into your couch with his glass from dinner, and you were tucked into the opposite corner. The sky outside held no indication that the sun was still visible, and he knew that his time with you was slowly winding down. 

“I should probably head out,” he mentioned with a sigh, like saying that was physically hurting him. 

He tried to ignore the small frown that tugged on your mouth. 

“But it’s so dark out already,” you replied. 

“Fine by me. There’ll probably be fewer cars out there on the road if I leave soon instead of waiting for the morning.” 

“Oh.” 

Robby hated the way that sounded in your mouth. You quickly looked around your house almost as if you were trying to find something that’d make him stay. For that, he made no action to actually move from his spot on in the cushions. 

You finally gave up and looked down into your glass. “You know, it’s okay to ask.” 

He knew what you meant. Throughout the night, he tried his best to not to bring up the man that all but threw your baby away while she had a perfectly good home waiting for her. The social worker had made sure to tell him that there were definitely no signs of abuse or neglect on your side, and a flood of relief and a knowing understanding had bloomed beneath his ribs. He knew you’d never put that baby girl in danger from the way you were so heartbroken about not knowing where she had been for the entire day. But a thorn of concern had buried itself into his side. 

“I didn’t want to overstep,” he replied after a moment of quiet. “But . . .” he trailed, giving you the space to fill in. 

“Me and Brandon met soon after we parted ways. Thought that he was the one for me; you knew I’ve always wanted a family.” Your arms wrapped around your middle. “We got married, had a nice few years without kids before we even began to start trying.”

In a split second, all Robby wanted to do was scoop you up into his arms 

Your pointer finger picked at your thumb. “We had some complications, had a few miscarriages, and I completely gave up.” 

This time, Robby did unfold his arms and gesture for you to scooch closer. You quickly pushed yourself out of the dip and into his chest, sighing softly when you rested against him. 

“I thought that I’d never get to be a mother until last year. I guessed that the pregnancy wouldn’t last and then the next thing I know she’s in my arms.” 

He felt the way you tensed before relaxing. “We finally had her.” You paused before adding. “And then I found out that he’d been cheating on me for months. I should’ve seen the signs when he missed pretty much all of my appointments.” 

You looked up at Robby, and he was already looking down at you as well. 

“You didn’t deserve any of that, sweetheart,” he muttered, chest rumbling in loathe and a dash of jealousy. “He’s a fucking son of a bitch for that.” 

If you were his, he would have been there for you at every moment, every scan, every fucking second by your side, his hand in yours. 

You hummed in agreement. “I’m just glad I didn’t pick the name he wanted.” 

Robby cocked his head, a smirk lacing his mouth. “Oh yeah? Was it going to be something stupid like Brandon Junior?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you giggled. “He wanted Brenda. There was no way he was going to win though; she’s my baby.” 

“Well, I think you picked the sweetest name. Shelly suits her.” 

You bit down on your lip, not knowing if you should say the next thing on your mind. But having Robby be your personal back rest, you couldn’t keep it in anymore. 

“Shelly’s just her nickname. Her full name is Michelle.” You looked up at Robby expectantly, but he just kept looking at you with that soft expression. You smiled at him, hand raising to gentle rest against his beard.  “Michael, her name’s Michelle.” 

It was almost as if all air was sucked out of his body. 

“Michelle?” he croaked. “Why-why?” 

“Because maybe I wanted to keep a piece of you, the man who believed in me and listened to all my dreams, even if I can’t have you.” 

Robby blinked slowly, lips loose from his drink. “You can have me.” 

“You’re about to go on your trip, Michael. I’m not going to keep you here, somewhere you don’t want to stay, just because I finally found you again.” You tore your eyes away from his. “I can’t be that selfish. Even I can see how much you’re hurting.”

You expected him to push you off. You expected him to slam out the door. You expected him to drive off and never turn back. 

What you didn’t expect him to do was take your hands in his and hold them and keep you against him. 

“I’ll come back,” he whispered into the small space between you two. “I’ll come back to you.” 

Your head shook. “I can’t ask that of you. I can’t—” The sentence died between your lips and Robby’s finger gently pressing against your mouth. 

“Listen to me, sweetheart. For years, I’ve been looking for a reason to stay, to live. I’ve tried to find that reason, and I had pretty much given up on finding something like that.” His eyes glossed over in blink. “But the moment you walked through the doors, the moment you held your baby, the moment you invited me to dinner, and the moment you let me hold you, I finally found my reason.” 

Words escaped your mind at his confession, and the only next logical thing to do was sit and mull over his words. However, when dealing with Robby, all logic flew out the window just as you pressed your lips against his in a desperate motion.

Robby was quick to reciprocate, his hands cradling your cheeks just as he’d cradled your daughter, who you chose to share his namesake in your darkest moments. His thumb brushed away the slight wetness growing under your lashes. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt and held strongly, and your torso twisted to press your front against his. 

You pulled back slightly, face staying within Robby’s hands. “Stay,” you breathed. “Stay.”

His nose brushed against yours as he nodded. “I’ll stay.” 

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