but then, there was a shooting at the hospital. derek almost died, everyone got handed a dose of ptsd, and you decided that the best you could do was take a six month sabbatical right after cristina and owen’s quick wedding, drinking mai-tais and aperols on the side of the beach to try to clear your mind. by the time you got back, you and mark decided to work it out and get back together

the news of callie’s pregnancy hit you like a truck and even though you both tried to stay away from each other, you managed to work it out and stayed together, got married, and were expecting a baby of your own, making your weird but big family even bigger than it previously was

you thought you’d finally get to have that happy ending

until that damn plane crash happened and your husband died a month before your daughter came into this world

the image of mark sloan closing his eyes for the last time had been seared into your memory and the situation had almost been enough of a catalyst to send you into early labour. you were grateful to have your friends around you, or at least as much of them they could give you while they were dealing with their own version of the aftermath

twenty-eight days after he was taken off life support, elizabeth sloan came into the world to take off a small amount of the hurt her father’s passing had left in your heart. the first three months with ellie had kicked you in the ass and you took advantage of alex putting off hopkins for a while so he could help you out whenever you needed it. jackson had also been a big help. one night he got drunk after making some dinner for the both of you and he confessed that mark had been the first person he had told about your pregnancy and that he had promised he’d ask you to put jackson down on the godfather race–you ended up bawling your eyes out while he drunkenly rubbed your back and held you until you fell asleep

the funny thing was, you both weren’t even that close. mark and him had been, but the two of you hadn’t. you were good friends, great even, you just always gravitated more towards the others because you thought he disliked you

turns out he respected and was scared of you. you had laughed at him when he finally told you that after a some drinks at joe’s a couple weeks before callie and arizona’s wedding which marked the beginning of one of the greatest friendships you’d ever had

mark was the love of your life but jackson was the closest thing you had to a soulmate. and that was something you didn’t take lightly, he had been there for you through it all, your wedding, your pregnancy, mark’s death, and your daughter’s birth. he cried when you asked for him to be there with you and after, when you asked him to be ellie’s godfather. so, yeah, as far as soulmates go, jackson was yours and, even if he didn’t say it often, you knew you were his

so, when the option of being part owner of a hospital had come as a last resort for saving what had been an important part of your life, you didn’t hesitate to bring up the possibility to him. it was a long shot, one you didn’t achieve on your own, but then, webber had done his thing and suddenly, your last name, your husband’s last name, was on the building

almost a year had passed after what you called the worst months of your life. learning how to live in a world where you were without your husband was strange and learning how to do it with a newborn baby made it even worse. but you did it, or you were doing it—it was a work in progress

your day started as it usually did. waking up, quickly getting ready while your baby slept, drinking your mandatory cup of coffee, waking up your baby to have breakfast before going to the hospital. rinse and repeat. the only difference was the look on hunt’s face the moment you walked out of the elevator after dropping off ellie at daycare

“no” you said before hunt could speak, “whatever you’re going to ask me, my answer is no”

“come on, sloan” he sighed, “medical conference week in san francisco, all expenses paid”

“my answer’s still no, hunt” you kept walking to the nicu for a follow up consult, which took almost half of your morning run

the next hours built up to what you could confidently call one of the worst shifts of your life. your head was pounding since you had woken up, everyone seemed to have it out for you, you had to cancel a couple of surgeries for the sake of board meetings, your phone decided to die halfway a trauma rush and you were left stranded in an elevator half-way up to check on some x-rays because it suddenly got stuck and you couldn’t call anyone

so to say you were pissed off was an understatement

“sloan” you shut your eyes close and took a deep breath when you saw owen waiting for you outside the bathroom

“you’ve got to be kidding me” you groaned, “this has reached unprecedented levels of stalking”

“come on, sloan”

“hunt, you’re asking me for a week without my baby” you groaned again, “and a week without saving other people’s babies”

he huffed, “think of all the babies you could save if you go and see all the presentations,” the both of you stopped at the desk so you could pick up one of the tablets, “you’re the only one i can send”

you let out a breath and rubbed your eyes, “fine.” you agreed, “but,” you paused and looked straight at him, “i want the next three days off.”

“deal.” he said almost immediately which took you back a bit

“didn’t think you’d agree so fast.” you shrugged, “when do i have to leave?”

“saturday night.” you nodded, “meredith will take over your emergency general surgeries and i’ll talk to herman”

“okay.” you gave him a small smile and walked over to your patient’s room

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you weren’t supposed to work friday night. herman had dismissed you before the four am rounds and you were supposed to be drinking some wine and eating the greasiest pizza you could find in all of seattle while you watched some trashy romance movie

sadly, life doesn’t always go as planned. so, when webber called you around ten to practically beg you to come in and help her with a case you had no choice but go in and take over his already-scheduled surgeries

you happily walked into the scrub room but the smile turned into a taken aback expression when you saw jackson and april quietly fighting, “i just don’t know why you’d say that, jackson. it feels like–like you don’t even care about m–”

you cleared your throat, making them pull back and look at you in surprise. “i’m sorry.” you twisted your lips to the side, “i’d say i’ll be right back but i have–i, uhm,” you pointed at the other side of the room, “i have a whipple”

april ran a hand down her face and let out a huff before leaving the scrub room

“sorry.” you called out, turning sideways towards the door, “what was that all about?”

“mind your own damn bussiness” jackson bit at you

“woah,” you turned back towards him, “hold your horses. where the fuck do you get off talking to me that way?”

he sighed, “sorry, bug” you shook your head, “it’s been weird between us ever since the boards and the hospital buyout” he pressed down on his eyes with the palm of his hands, “you’re right, sorry”

“yeah, whatever” you rolled your eyes at him, “move over, i have to scrub” you hit his butt when you walked past him to grab a scrub sponge

“hey!” he jumped from the hit’s impact, “not cool,” you laughed at his tone, “you have a really heavy hand.”

“you’re so damn weak” you shook your head, opening the water so you could start scrubbing, “you two confuse the fuck out of me”

“what does that even mean?” he chuckled, pinching your side

“you two have sex during boards, then kinda pretend it didn’t happen” you started, “the plane crash happened, and when you two finally were going to talk about it, mark died and she got fired” you looked at his face, “then, by some kind of miracle–or really some realization from hunt–she came back and instead of talking like two grown adults you just–fell back into it” you finished talking as you finished scrubbing, seeing the train of thoughts inside his head. “look, i have a couple more surgeries tonight, but el’s in daycare if you wanna play with her for a bit” you shrugged, stopping at the automatic door before you walked into the or, “don’t forget you’re supposed to drive me and take ellie to yours tomorrow night.” you smiled at him, “see you later, alligator”

the rest of the night went by on a blur, alongside the rest of the day. you finished doing the dishes when the doorbell rang, “coming!” you dried your hands with the kitchen towel and walked to the door, “hey, you! you came!”

jackson rolled his eyes and messed up your hair, walking inside. “of course, dumbass. i told you i would” he groaned when you smacked him in the head, “hey!”

“show me some respect, little man” you bit back the smile on your lips

“i’m literally taller than you” you smacked him again

“don’t try to be funny” you shook your head, “el’s in my room” you pointed towards it with your head, “go ahead, i’ll finish the never ending drying process.” you sighed and he chuckled, starting his walk towards your room

ten minutes after, you were walking in and out of your closet, finishing up packing for the week you were supposed to be in san francisco for a medical conference

“i just don’t understand why it’s me who’s supposed to go to san francisco” you sighed as you folded a pair of pants, “why couldn’t hunt send, i don’t know, bailey?”

“mer and you are the general fellows,” jackson said, softly bouncing ellie on his arms, “it’s obvious he’d send one of you. and considering she’s like a hundred months pregnant,” ellie cooed at his words, “he’s sending you”

you groaned, finally closing your bag. “i don’t want to leave ellie”

“i know. but little sloan will be fine” he brushed the small amount of hair out of ellie’s forehead before pressing a little kiss on it, “i have three days off and if i have to go to the hospital i’ll leave her in daycare with sofia and zola. i’m sure they’ll love to play with her”

you pursed your lips, “fine” you took your daughter out of jackson’s arms and held her close to your chest, “i love you, my little bug” you pressed your lips to her cheek and she cooed, “i know. uncle jackson is going to take such good care of you. i’ll miss you so much”

“let’s go, you’re gonna be late” you sighed at his words and walked towards the door

it was going to be a long week

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san francisco was a delight. the weather was better than seattle’s usual one, and even though you missed your daughter, you were having a good week

it felt good to just be doctor you again for a little while and you were thrilled to see some of your friends from med school thriving in their specialties

you were walking into the next room without paying attention when you ran into someone, “i’m so sorry” you apologized to the man in front of you

“don’t worry, dr—“

“sloan. grey sloan memorial” you held your hand out, “nice to meet you, dr—“

“robinavitch, but everybody calls me robby” he shook your hand, “pittsburgh trauma medical center”

you nodded, “great program. almost applied for my fellowship there”

“why didn’t you? if you don’t mind me asking” he asked as you both walked into a big room where everyone was talking and exchanging ideas

“seattle grace—i mean grey sloan is an exceptional program and i, uh, met my husband” the last part came out softer and robby could ser a different glint in your eyes

“is he also a doctor?” he asked and you immediately stiffened

“he was.” you cleared your throat, “dr mark sloan” you saw something shift in his face as soon as the name left your lips

“oh, i’m sorry. i didn’t know” he shook his head, hand coming up immediately to softly scratch the back of his neck. it wasn’t entirely a lie, he knew what had happened to the doctors from what was previously named seattle grace-mercy west that were supposed to go to boise but he didn’t know you were married to one of them. although he could’ve assumed the moment he heard your last name

you shook your head, “it’s okay, no big deal” you sighed, “so, what is a pittsburgh physician doing in san francisco?”

“i am presenting. immediate trauma response and its benefits in emergency medicine”

“oh, that’s amazing” you smiled at him, “when is it?”

he checked his watch, “in two hours”

you nodded, “i’ll see you there, then. it was a pleasure meeting you, dr robby” you said goodbye before walking away to the bathroom. it was the first time you had mentioned mark to someone other than the people of the hospital, your people, and it made you feel weird

it was going to be a long week

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friday came faster than you expected and you were grateful for that. it meant you were closer to finally being able to go home and spend your three days off at home eating crappy food and playing with your daughter

but, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel grateful for the week you’d had. it was the first time in over a year you weren’t a mother and a widow, you were just you, a gorgeous woman and an amazing physician with a double certification most people would only dream about

you went to all and every presentation you could go to. you asked questions, you took notes, you met amazing doctors, ate delicious food, and stayed in an amazing hotel room. you spent time on the indoor pool, signed in on a thousand different hotel experiences

you had a break

a break from part-running a hospital, from being exhausted for working all day and then spending sleepless nights with your daughter, and even though you were exhausted, you were grateful. grateful because you had that last piece of the love mark and you had had for each other to remember him by

you woke up that morning with your head pounding and your heart beating so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. sitting up on the bed, you rubbed your forehead trying to will away the burning image of mark your dream had left

the clock on the nightstand read 7:05 am, so you laid back down on the bed, letting out a huff before getting up from the bed to start your day

your morning run had been almost good enough to erase the dream from your memory, but every time you closed your eyes you could see it over and over again; mark holding you and ellie close to him, the three of you back in seattle with all your family. you sighed, walking into the elevator so you could take a shower and have a proper breakfast

“hold it, please.” you pressed the elevator button when you heard a man’s voice. you gave robby a small smile when you saw him get in with you, “oh, hey. thanks”

“no problem” you hummed as the elevator started going up, “how’s your week going?”

he looked at you, “it’s been great. how about yours?”

“it’s been great, too.” you nodded, “really long, tho”

he sighed, “yeah. way too long”

the elevator doors opened on your floor. you turned to him, “it was great seeing you again” he nodded as you said softly before walking out

you turned around when heard him call you, seeing him holding the elevator open, “would you want to join me and some other doctors tonight for dinner?”

you tilted your head before saying. “sure. i’ll meet you downstairs” you smiled at him before fully turning around to finally walk into your room

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it was almost 9pm and you were sitting down on the hotel lobby waiting for robby to meet you before dinner. you checked your phone to see if jackson had texted you anything after the hour long call you’d had with him less than twenty minutes ago. seeing no texts from him, you blocked it and walked to the restaurant bar so you could order something to drink

twenty minutes, and some drinks, later, you felt a man’s hand on your shoulder. when you turned around, you saw robby standing there, “hey, you”

“you’re here” you said from behind your glass, “you have to try this, it’s really good”

“are you drunk?” he asked mockingly

“no” you shook your head, “i’m just tired,” you hummed, “and hungry”

he pulled out the chair next to you. “what’s on your mind?”

you huffed, “i think i need a change of pace.” you smiled at him, “grey sloan is—great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s full of painful memories”

“isn’t every place built of some painful memories?”

“touché” you tipped your glass towards him, “still, it’s way too hard to be there all the time. on the other hand, it’s not like i’m gonna find a new job before my fellowship is at least halfway through”

he sighed, “come on. i’ll introduce you to some other doctors” you took his stretched-out hand, “you look nice”

you looked down to your clothes, and huffed playfully, “in these?” you chuckled, sending a wink at him, “thank you. you clean up nice, too”

he chuckled, “thank you.” the two of you walked up to a table with three other doctors

“glad you could join us, robinavitch” an older man teased him, “i see you brought company. dr adamson” he offered his hand

“dr sloan.” you shook it, “really nice to meet you”

a spark of recognition flashed on his face. “likewise.” you gave you a short nod, “please, sit down.” robby pulled out the chair for you before sitting down next to you, “so, what brings you here all the way from seattle?”

“i was the lucky fellow chosen this time” you said with a small smile, making the other doctors let out a soft chuckle

“so,” dr scott started, sitting to your left, “how’s leading grey sloan like?”

“it’s an incredibly difficult task” you took a sip of water, “but it’s also a fulfilling one.”

“a hospital run by its doctors” she added and you nodded, “sounds good”

“sounds great,” adamson added, “also sounds like a great responsibility"

you sighed, “you wouldn’t even know the beginning of it”

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getting back to work ten hours after your flight landed wasn’t in your plans. actually, it fully ruined everything you had planned for your very deserved time off after sitting down an entire week listening to dozens of different doctors talking about different specialties. however, seattle’s weather had ruined it

and meredith falling down the stairs didn’t help either

“you need to rest, mer” you rolled your eyes at her huff, cleaning the gel from her belly. “i’m being serious, meredith. i know you wanna help, but you cannot put yourself and the baby in danger” you took off the gloves from your hands, “connie is on call if you need anything,”

derek turned to look at you, “what about you?”

“i’m on call for general surgery tonight since this one is out on maternity leave starting now” you reminded them, brushing the hair out of your face

“what?” mer exclaimed, “no-no, i can–”

“you should rest, mer. i’m serious” you saw her purse her lips, “i’ll be down in the pitt. go home, mer”

you barely heard derek say something about picking up zola from daycare as you walked out of the exam room. you made your way down to the er just as the rain started pouring down harder than before

“have you seen alex?” you asked callie

“nope” she said without looking up from her tablet, “have you seen arizona?”

“nope” you said back at her, chuckling at her expression

“has everyone suddenly gone missing or what?” she groaned at the sound of her pager going off, “oh fuck”

“everything okay?” you asked

“yeah, just. expected post-op complication” she shrugged, “page me if you see arizona”

“‘kay” you said as she walked away to see her patient

you let out a deep breath, already tired, and groaned when you checked your watch and realized it had only been three hours since you had gotten into the hospital

to make matters worse the lights went off, and it seemed like that was the first step for everything to go to hell

but then, there was a shooting at the hospital. derek almost died, everyone got handed a dose of ptsd, and you decided that the best you could do was take a six month sabbatical right after cristina and owen’s quick wedding, drinking mai-tais and aperols on the side of the beach to try to clear your mind. by the time you got back, you and mark decided to work it out and get back together

the news of callie’s pregnancy hit you like a truck and even though you both tried to stay away from each other, you managed to work it out and stayed together, got married, and were expecting a baby of your own, making your weird but big family even bigger than it previously was

you thought you’d finally get to have that happy ending

until that damn plane crash happened and your husband died a month before your daughter came into this world

the image of mark sloan closing his eyes for the last time had been seared into your memory and the situation had almost been enough of a catalyst to send you into early labour. you were grateful to have your friends around you, or at least as much of them they could give you while they were dealing with their own version of the aftermath

twenty-eight days after he was taken off life support, elizabeth sloan came into the world to take off a small amount of the hurt her father’s passing had left in your heart. the first three months with ellie had kicked you in the ass and you took advantage of alex putting off hopkins for a while so he could help you out whenever you needed it. jackson had also been a big help. one night he got drunk after making some dinner for the both of you and he confessed that mark had been the first person he had told about your pregnancy and that he had promised he’d ask you to put jackson down on the godfather race–you ended up bawling your eyes out while he drunkenly rubbed your back and held you until you fell asleep

the funny thing was, you both weren’t even that close. mark and him had been, but the two of you hadn’t. you were good friends, great even, you just always gravitated more towards the others because you thought he disliked you

turns out he respected and was scared of you. you had laughed at him when he finally told you that after a some drinks at joe’s a couple weeks before callie and arizona’s wedding which marked the beginning of one of the greatest friendships you’d ever had

mark was the love of your life but jackson was the closest thing you had to a soulmate. and that was something you didn’t take lightly, he had been there for you through it all, your wedding, your pregnancy, mark’s death, and your daughter’s birth. he cried when you asked for him to be there with you and after, when you asked him to be ellie’s godfather. so, yeah, as far as soulmates go, jackson was yours and, even if he didn’t say it often, you knew you were his

so, when the option of being part owner of a hospital had come as a last resort for saving what had been an important part of your life, you didn’t hesitate to bring up the possibility to him. it was a long shot, one you didn’t achieve on your own, but then, webber had done his thing and suddenly, your last name, your husband’s last name, was on the building

almost a year had passed after what you called the worst months of your life. learning how to live in a world where you were without your husband was strange and learning how to do it with a newborn baby made it even worse. but you did it, or you were doing it—it was a work in progress

your day started as it usually did. waking up, quickly getting ready while your baby slept, drinking your mandatory cup of coffee, waking up your baby to have breakfast before going to the hospital. rinse and repeat. the only difference was the look on hunt’s face the moment you walked out of the elevator after dropping off ellie at daycare

“no” you said before hunt could speak, “whatever you’re going to ask me, my answer is no”

“come on, sloan” he sighed, “medical conference week in san francisco, all expenses paid”

“my answer’s still no, hunt” you kept walking to the nicu for a follow up consult, which took almost half of your morning run

the next hours built up to what you could confidently call one of the worst shifts of your life. your head was pounding since you had woken up, everyone seemed to have it out for you, you had to cancel a couple of surgeries for the sake of board meetings, your phone decided to die halfway a trauma rush and you were left stranded in an elevator half-way up to check on some x-rays because it suddenly got stuck and you couldn’t call anyone

so to say you were pissed off was an understatement

“sloan” you shut your eyes close and took a deep breath when you saw owen waiting for you outside the bathroom

“you’ve got to be kidding me” you groaned, “this has reached unprecedented levels of stalking”

“come on, sloan”

“hunt, you’re asking me for a week without my baby” you groaned again, “and a week without saving other people’s babies”

he huffed, “think of all the babies you could save if you go and see all the presentations,” the both of you stopped at the desk so you could pick up one of the tablets, “you’re the only one i can send”

you let out a breath and rubbed your eyes, “fine.” you agreed, “but,” you paused and looked straight at him, “i want the next three days off.”

“deal.” he said almost immediately which took you back a bit

“didn’t think you’d agree so fast.” you shrugged, “when do i have to leave?”

“saturday night.” you nodded, “meredith will take over your emergency general surgeries and i’ll talk to herman”

“okay.” you gave him a small smile and walked over to your patient’s room

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you weren’t supposed to work friday night. herman had dismissed you before the four am rounds and you were supposed to be drinking some wine and eating the greasiest pizza you could find in all of seattle while you watched some trashy romance movie

sadly, life doesn’t always go as planned. so, when webber called you around ten to practically beg you to come in and help her with a case you had no choice but go in and take over his already-scheduled surgeries

you happily walked into the scrub room but the smile turned into a taken aback expression when you saw jackson and april quietly fighting, “i just don’t know why you’d say that, jackson. it feels like–like you don’t even care about m–”

you cleared your throat, making them pull back and look at you in surprise. “i’m sorry.” you twisted your lips to the side, “i’d say i’ll be right back but i have–i, uhm,” you pointed at the other side of the room, “i have a whipple”

april ran a hand down her face and let out a huff before leaving the scrub room

“sorry.” you called out, turning sideways towards the door, “what was that all about?”

“mind your own damn bussiness” jackson bit at you

“woah,” you turned back towards him, “hold your horses. where the fuck do you get off talking to me that way?”

he sighed, “sorry, bug” you shook your head, “it’s been weird between us ever since the boards and the hospital buyout” he pressed down on his eyes with the palm of his hands, “you’re right, sorry”

“yeah, whatever” you rolled your eyes at him, “move over, i have to scrub” you hit his butt when you walked past him to grab a scrub sponge

“hey!” he jumped from the hit’s impact, “not cool,” you laughed at his tone, “you have a really heavy hand.”

“you’re so damn weak” you shook your head, opening the water so you could start scrubbing, “you two confuse the fuck out of me”

“what does that even mean?” he chuckled, pinching your side

“you two have sex during boards, then kinda pretend it didn’t happen” you started, “the plane crash happened, and when you two finally were going to talk about it, mark died and she got fired” you looked at his face, “then, by some kind of miracle–or really some realization from hunt–she came back and instead of talking like two grown adults you just–fell back into it” you finished talking as you finished scrubbing, seeing the train of thoughts inside his head. “look, i have a couple more surgeries tonight, but el’s in daycare if you wanna play with her for a bit” you shrugged, stopping at the automatic door before you walked into the or, “don’t forget you’re supposed to drive me and take ellie to yours tomorrow night.” you smiled at him, “see you later, alligator”

the rest of the night went by on a blur, alongside the rest of the day. you finished doing the dishes when the doorbell rang, “coming!” you dried your hands with the kitchen towel and walked to the door, “hey, you! you came!”

jackson rolled his eyes and messed up your hair, walking inside. “of course, dumbass. i told you i would” he groaned when you smacked him in the head, “hey!”

“show me some respect, little man” you bit back the smile on your lips

“i’m literally taller than you” you smacked him again

“don’t try to be funny” you shook your head, “el’s in my room” you pointed towards it with your head, “go ahead, i’ll finish the never ending drying process.” you sighed and he chuckled, starting his walk towards your room

ten minutes after, you were walking in and out of your closet, finishing up packing for the week you were supposed to be in san francisco for a medical conference

“i just don’t understand why it’s me who’s supposed to go to san francisco” you sighed as you folded a pair of pants, “why couldn’t hunt send, i don’t know, bailey?”

“mer and you are the general fellows,” jackson said, softly bouncing ellie on his arms, “it’s obvious he’d send one of you. and considering she’s like a hundred months pregnant,” ellie cooed at his words, “he’s sending you”

you groaned, finally closing your bag. “i don’t want to leave ellie”

“i know. but little sloan will be fine” he brushed the small amount of hair out of ellie’s forehead before pressing a little kiss on it, “i have three days off and if i have to go to the hospital i’ll leave her in daycare with sofia and zola. i’m sure they’ll love to play with her”

you pursed your lips, “fine” you took your daughter out of jackson’s arms and held her close to your chest, “i love you, my little bug” you pressed your lips to her cheek and she cooed, “i know. uncle jackson is going to take such good care of you. i’ll miss you so much”

“let’s go, you’re gonna be late” you sighed at his words and walked towards the door

it was going to be a long week

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san francisco was a delight. the weather was better than seattle’s usual one, and even though you missed your daughter, you were having a good week

it felt good to just be doctor you again for a little while and you were thrilled to see some of your friends from med school thriving in their specialties

you were walking into the next room without paying attention when you ran into someone, “i’m so sorry” you apologized to the man in front of you

“don’t worry, dr—“

“sloan. grey sloan memorial” you held your hand out, “nice to meet you, dr—“

“robinavitch, but everybody calls me robby” he shook your hand, “pittsburgh trauma medical center”

you nodded, “great program. almost applied for my fellowship there”

“why didn’t you? if you don’t mind me asking” he asked as you both walked into a big room where everyone was talking and exchanging ideas

“seattle grace—i mean grey sloan is an exceptional program and i, uh, met my husband” the last part came out softer and robby could ser a different glint in your eyes

“is he also a doctor?” he asked and you immediately stiffened

“he was.” you cleared your throat, “dr mark sloan” you saw something shift in his face as soon as the name left your lips

“oh, i’m sorry. i didn’t know” he shook his head, hand coming up immediately to softly scratch the back of his neck. it wasn’t entirely a lie, he knew what had happened to the doctors from what was previously named seattle grace-mercy west that were supposed to go to boise but he didn’t know you were married to one of them. although he could’ve assumed the moment he heard your last name

you shook your head, “it’s okay, no big deal” you sighed, “so, what is a pittsburgh physician doing in san francisco?”

“i am presenting. immediate trauma response and its benefits in emergency medicine”

“oh, that’s amazing” you smiled at him, “when is it?”

he checked his watch, “in two hours”

you nodded, “i’ll see you there, then. it was a pleasure meeting you, dr robby” you said goodbye before walking away to the bathroom. it was the first time you had mentioned mark to someone other than the people of the hospital, your people, and it made you feel weird

it was going to be a long week

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friday came faster than you expected and you were grateful for that. it meant you were closer to finally being able to go home and spend your three days off at home eating crappy food and playing with your daughter

but, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel grateful for the week you’d had. it was the first time in over a year you weren’t a mother and a widow, you were just you, a gorgeous woman and an amazing physician with a double certification most people would only dream about

you went to all and every presentation you could go to. you asked questions, you took notes, you met amazing doctors, ate delicious food, and stayed in an amazing hotel room. you spent time on the indoor pool, signed in on a thousand different hotel experiences

you had a break

a break from part-running a hospital, from being exhausted for working all day and then spending sleepless nights with your daughter, and even though you were exhausted, you were grateful. grateful because you had that last piece of the love mark and you had had for each other to remember him by

you woke up that morning with your head pounding and your heart beating so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. sitting up on the bed, you rubbed your forehead trying to will away the burning image of mark your dream had left

the clock on the nightstand read 7:05 am, so you laid back down on the bed, letting out a huff before getting up from the bed to start your day

your morning run had been almost good enough to erase the dream from your memory, but every time you closed your eyes you could see it over and over again; mark holding you and ellie close to him, the three of you back in seattle with all your family. you sighed, walking into the elevator so you could take a shower and have a proper breakfast

“hold it, please.” you pressed the elevator button when you heard a man’s voice. you gave robby a small smile when you saw him get in with you, “oh, hey. thanks”

“no problem” you hummed as the elevator started going up, “how’s your week going?”

he looked at you, “it’s been great. how about yours?”

“it’s been great, too.” you nodded, “really long, tho”

he sighed, “yeah. way too long”

the elevator doors opened on your floor. you turned to him, “it was great seeing you again” he nodded as you said softly before walking out

you turned around when heard him call you, seeing him holding the elevator open, “would you want to join me and some other doctors tonight for dinner?”

you tilted your head before saying. “sure. i’ll meet you downstairs” you smiled at him before fully turning around to finally walk into your room

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it was almost 9pm and you were sitting down on the hotel lobby waiting for robby to meet you before dinner. you checked your phone to see if jackson had texted you anything after the hour long call you’d had with him less than twenty minutes ago. seeing no texts from him, you blocked it and walked to the restaurant bar so you could order something to drink

twenty minutes, and some drinks, later, you felt a man’s hand on your shoulder. when you turned around, you saw robby standing there, “hey, you”

“you’re here” you said from behind your glass, “you have to try this, it’s really good”

“are you drunk?” he asked mockingly

“no” you shook your head, “i’m just tired,” you hummed, “and hungry”

he pulled out the chair next to you. “what’s on your mind?”

you huffed, “i think i need a change of pace.” you smiled at him, “grey sloan is—great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s full of painful memories”

“isn’t every place built of some painful memories?”

“touché” you tipped your glass towards him, “still, it’s way too hard to be there all the time. on the other hand, it’s not like i’m gonna find a new job before my fellowship is at least halfway through”

he sighed, “come on. i’ll introduce you to some other doctors” you took his stretched-out hand, “you look nice”

you looked down to your clothes, and huffed playfully, “in these?” you chuckled, sending a wink at him, “thank you. you clean up nice, too”

he chuckled, “thank you.” the two of you walked up to a table with three other doctors

“glad you could join us, robinavitch” an older man teased him, “i see you brought company. dr adamson” he offered his hand

“dr sloan.” you shook it, “really nice to meet you”

a spark of recognition flashed on his face. “likewise.” you gave you a short nod, “please, sit down.” robby pulled out the chair for you before sitting down next to you, “so, what brings you here all the way from seattle?”

“i was the lucky fellow chosen this time” you said with a small smile, making the other doctors let out a soft chuckle

“so,” dr scott started, sitting to your left, “how’s leading grey sloan like?”

“it’s an incredibly difficult task” you took a sip of water, “but it’s also a fulfilling one.”

“a hospital run by its doctors” she added and you nodded, “sounds good”

“sounds great,” adamson added, “also sounds like a great responsibility"

you sighed, “you wouldn’t even know the beginning of it”

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getting back to work ten hours after your flight landed wasn’t in your plans. actually, it fully ruined everything you had planned for your very deserved time off after sitting down an entire week listening to dozens of different doctors talking about different specialties. however, seattle’s weather had ruined it

and meredith falling down the stairs didn’t help either

“you need to rest, mer” you rolled your eyes at her huff, cleaning the gel from her belly. “i’m being serious, meredith. i know you wanna help, but you cannot put yourself and the baby in danger” you took off the gloves from your hands, “connie is on call if you need anything,”

derek turned to look at you, “what about you?”

“i’m on call for general surgery tonight since this one is out on maternity leave starting now” you reminded them, brushing the hair out of your face

“what?” mer exclaimed, “no-no, i can–”

“you should rest, mer. i’m serious” you saw her purse her lips, “i’ll be down in the pitt. go home, mer”

you barely heard derek say something about picking up zola from daycare as you walked out of the exam room. you made your way down to the er just as the rain started pouring down harder than before

“have you seen alex?” you asked callie

“nope” she said without looking up from her tablet, “have you seen arizona?”

“nope” you said back at her, chuckling at her expression

“has everyone suddenly gone missing or what?” she groaned at the sound of her pager going off, “oh fuck”

“everything okay?” you asked

“yeah, just. expected post-op complication” she shrugged, “page me if you see arizona”

“‘kay” you said as she walked away to see her patient

you let out a deep breath, already tired, and groaned when you checked your watch and realized it had only been three hours since you had gotten into the hospital

to make matters worse the lights went off, and it seemed like that was the first step for everything to go to hell

tags/descriptions: former grey sloan doctor, mentions of death, mentions of the plane crash, reader has a daughter, mentions of jack’s leg, doctor talk that may not be accurate, vague to none physical descriptions, reader has various bug related nicknames, jackson and reader are besties, mentions of sex, possible smut, marriage, second chance at love kinda story

hey guys! i know i’ve been mia but these have been terrible days for my mental health due to a lot of things happening in my country but i’ve had this idea in my head for like a month because i was rewatching grey’s and it materialized into this

˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_ ˖

- 2013 - 2015 - 2017 - 2018

- 2019 - 2021 - 2023 - 2025

- 2026

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extras:

tags/descriptions: former grey sloan doctor, mentions of death, mentions of the plane crash, reader has a daughter, mentions of jack’s leg, doctor talk that may not be accurate, vague to none physical descriptions, reader has various bug related nicknames, jackson and reader are besties, mentions of sex, possible smut, marriage, second chance at love kinda story

hey guys! i know i’ve been mia but these have been terrible days for my mental health due to a lot of things happening in my country but i’ve had this idea in my head for like a month because i was rewatching grey’s and it materialized into this

˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_ ˖

- 2013 - 2015 - 2017 - 2018

- 2019 - 2021 - 2023 - 2025

- 2026

˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_ ˖

extras:

tags/descriptions: former grey sloan doctor, mentions of death, mentions of the plane crash, reader has a daughter, mentions of jack’s leg, doctor talk that may not be accurate, vague to none physical descriptions, reader has various bug related nicknames, jackson and reader are besties, mentions of sex, possible smut, marriage, second chance at love kinda story

hey guys! i know i’ve been mia but these have been terrible days for my mental health due to a lot of things happening in my country but i’ve had this idea in my head for like a month because i was rewatching grey’s and it materialized into this

˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_ ˖

- 2013 - 2015 - 2017 - 2018

- 2019 - 2021 - 2023 - 2025

- 2026

˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_ ˖

extras:

tags/descriptions: former grey sloan doctor, mentions of death, mentions of the plane crash, reader has a daughter, mentions of jack’s leg, doctor talk that may not be accurate, vague to none physical descriptions, reader has various bug related nicknames, jackson and reader are besties, mentions of sex, possible smut, marriage, second chance at love kinda story

hey guys! i know i’ve been mia but these have been terrible days for my mental health due to a lot of things happening in my country but i’ve had this idea in my head for like a month because i was rewatching grey’s and it materialized into this

˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_ ˖

- 2013 - 2015 - 2017 - 2018

- 2019 - 2021 - 2023 - 2025

- 2026

˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_ ˖

extras:

tags/descriptions: former grey sloan doctor, mentions of death, mentions of the plane crash, reader has a daughter, mentions of jack’s leg, doctor talk that may not be accurate, vague to none physical descriptions, reader has various bug related nicknames, jackson and reader are besties, mentions of sex, possible smut, marriage, second chance at love kinda story

hey guys! i know i’ve been mia but these have been terrible days for my mental health due to a lot of things happening in my country but i’ve had this idea in my head for like a month because i was rewatching grey’s and it materialized into this

˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_ ˖

- 2013 - 2015 - 2017 - 2018

- 2019 - 2021 - 2023 - 2025

- 2026

˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_˖ ࣪_ ࿐ ★˚_ ˖

extras:

“and before you guys leave, remember that next saturday is the last game of the annual hospital soccer cup” a chorus of groans filled the room as gloria finished up her speech 

“do we have to go?” santos asked from the back of the room

“yes. it is a mandatory activity for every present member” she clarified, “your new uniforms are being brought tomorrow morning. i am going to be sending them with someone as soon as they arrive. dr robby and dr abbot will be in charge of organizing the teams, so any game related question has to be addressed directly to them” jack smiled, crossing his arms “any other question?” gloria asked and when no one said anything else, she finished the meeting, telling everyone to go back to their jobs

dennis, victoria, and trinity were the firsts to leave the room. santos was groaning, saying how annoying it would be having to play soccer on her afternoon off, dennis just nodded while victoria murmured that it might be a good thing to unwind and have a bit of fun. you also heard her say–mostly to herself–something about recording a video about the game

parker and mel left after them, the latter anxious for having to play a sport for the first time without having any practise at all while the former tried to reassure her, telling her that nobody–with the exception of you and shen–was taking this seriously. shen followed right after them, reminding ellis how ptmc had won last year’s cup thanks to him and you. samira, cassie, and you were the next to leave the room. samira was quiet for a second, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before finally speaking up, “i don’t want to play” you laughed, mouth half full with a protein bar “don’t laugh at me,” she chuckled “i’m being serious, i have two left feet”

“don’t worry, mira” you licked your lips “if you want me to cover for you, just say the word”

she chuckled again, “no, don’t do that. if you do that i won’t be able to go and laugh my ass off mocking you and shen”

your mouth opened in disbelief, “i don’t wanna sound like shen, but i’ll have you know that ptmc has won that cup for the last three years thanks to us”

“you sound exactly like him” mckay chimed in, finally looking up from her phone “i bet you twenty bucks that abbot puts me in as goalie this year”

“i’ll take you up on that,” you said just as ahmad looked up with an excited grin “is this a new bet i’m hearing?”

“yes, it is” cassie chuckled “next saturday's the last game. i say; i’m the goalie. trouble here,” she pointed at you, “scores twice, and the game ends at 4-2”

“who wins?” he asked

“obviously us” cassie said with a mock-offended tone

“i’m want in.” you licked your lips “put me there for fifty,” ahmad smiled and you heard mateo from behind you saying damn, “cass is the goalie, i score twice, mel scores once, and the game ends 6-2 on our favor”

“overconfident much?” mateo asks with a playful tone

“honey, i’m an er doctor. overconfidence is my middle name”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

the rest of the week went flying by, a couple of weird cases back and forth kept you busy the majority of the days. not that it was an uncommon thing, the day shift, even with the fact that it was the ed, was a bit predictable. it had a bit of a structure. meanwhile, the night shift was the opposite, it could be pure chaos or the most boring twelve hours of your life. tonight was more the latter than the former. it was almost five am and you had spent the last half hour playing with tiktok filters on shen’s phone, and although it had been fun for a while, it was starting to annoy you. so, you decided to do what any reasonable person would do, “you want a donut or not?” you asked ellis, who was sitting down in front of a computer trying to win a solitaire game

“yes, please” she nodded without turning to you, “make sure you grab the raspberry jam one. and also bring me a coffee”

“yeah, fine. does anybody else want anything?” you asked around and after five minutes, you already had everyone’s orders typed down on your notes app. shen made sure to grab your car keys from your locked while you walked around asking what everybody wanted, so you left quickly, making your way to dunkin donuts before jack could notice your absence

the drive to and back had been quick. you parked in the reserved spots in the ambulance bay and went inside the ed carrying the coffees while shen carried the donut boxes, “we come bearing gifts” you announced your entrance, making your way to lena first and passing her the hot coffee and the box of glazed donuts you had bought specifically for her. she thanked you, winking at you before sitting back on her chair to take a sip of her beverage

you passed around the boxes of donuts when you heard your name being called, followed by his question “want to explain why two of my doctors made a dunkin run at five-fifteen?” you froze, turning around slowly to face jack with a caught expression on your face, “sorry?” you offered with a tight smile “the best i can do is offer you a donut” he chuckled and grabbed one from the open box sitting atop the nurses’ station

ellis had gone to check on one of her patients and when she came back, she walked to the hub. you heard her voice before seeing her, “you’re back!” 

“brought you your coffee and your donuts” you pointed with your head at the box with the coffee on top

she took a bite of one of the donuts and hummed satisfied, “i could kiss you right now” she muttered, mouth half full and sugar around the corners, making you chuckle

“don’t threaten me with with a good time, parker” you winked at her

“stop flirting with my girlfriend, ellis” jack bit back from his place next to you

“stay mad, unc” she mocked, then said “don’t let him hold you back from your one true love” and blew you a kiss. you laughed as jack groaned in annoyance. you leaned forwards to high-five her and laughed harder when you heard jack mumble a ‘for fuck sakes’ under his breath

you turned your face to him with a small smile and said, “don’t worry, ellis. i won’t let my boyfriend keep me from finding my wife” then turned to her, giving her a wink before bursting into laughter when jack rolled his eyes and walked out to the ambulance bay

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

saturday afternoon rolled around with ease and with it, santos’ groans and complaints in the bathroom as you finished mel’s braid crown. the game was being held at the hospital’s physical therapy gym, which had been turned into a makeshift pitch for the day’s game. “trin, i think you should relax. we’re gonna have fun” you said, pinning the braids to mel’s head with bobby pins, “besides this is the perfect chance to see mateo and shen lose their minds” that made her roll her eyes, though you didn’t miss the small chuckle that escaped her

“i know i won’t enjoy taking orders from robby. we do enough of that on the clock and now we gotta do that too” samira rolled her eyes and you understood where she was coming from. lately, robby had it out for her, which was really annoying and unfair because she was one of the best doctors you had ever met. you had tried to convince her to switch to nights but she had kindly let you down, saying that it would be a difficult change in her everyday routine, although you suspected she was really close to saying yes. samira, trinity, and mel had come straight from a mid-day shift, so they had to change out of their scrubs and into the hospital-issued uniform–which was a sport shorts and a basic dark blue shirt with your last names and the numbers you had chosen three weeks prior

you were finishing your own braid crown when javadi walked in, phone in hand, recording you for her vlog. samira, santos, and mel exited the stalls at the same time, saying a quick hello to victoria, who was recording you through the mirror. you finished the braids, now washing your hands before putting on some sunscreen on your face. victoria recorded a bit more; samira making a joke, you putting sunscreen on mel’s face, and trinity tying her shoes while sitting on the floor. mckay walked in a few seconds later to tell you that robby and abbot wanted to go over the game strategy one last time before you had to start playing, so you walked out after her

“okay, guys” abbot started, arms crossed against his chest “mckay will be the goalie,” you murmured a soft yes under your breath “mateo you’ll be in defense, the terror twins both as wingers,” he pointed at shen and you, and you two high-fived “and mohan, you’ll be pivot” 

she groaned, “can i be on the bench?” she asked “santos should be pivot instead”

“you want in?” robby asked trinity, who just shrugged as a way of saying yes, “perfect, then. the rest of you’ll be benched and we’ll do a rotation every five minutes or so. that’s it, go warm up” he clapped his hands

“okay, losers” you started “we have this in the bag. we’ll do great, and we’ll win, again. because if we don’t, i’ll kill every single one of you” you smiled “love you, guys”

“you sure do know how to make a good motivational speech” jack mocked

“that was not a motivational speech, that was a warning” you clarified “besides, that has worked for the past three years so it better work this year, too” you finished before walking to warm up next to the rest of the team

victoria came up to each one of you to record something for her vlog. you took the phone out of her hand to record her instead and mateo took it as the perfect opportunity to throw her over his shoulder to do squats with her as the weight 

after a couple of minutes, the game started. the first four minutes went without a hitch and you realized trinity was damn good at playing soccer and mckay was a damn good goalie. shen and you were on fire,–as you had always been ever since you played that first game together three years prior–passing the ball to santos. jack called you over once the five minutes had passed, saying something about letting mel play for a while so you could rest a couple of minutes. two minutes went by, and you were glad victoria was recording the game again because just then, mel scored the first goal of the match. all of you jumped, shouting excitedly at mel’s goal. “oh, man. i’m going to win so much money today” you laughed before hollering at mel

the next fifteen minutes went by smoothly. one goal soon scored by samira, who turned around to where the rest of you were sitting with a surprised but excited expression on her face; another scored by mateo, who took the opportunity to twirl victoria on his arms, and another scored by you thanks to an assist made by shen. the westbridge doctors had scored a couple of goals as well, but you weren’t too worried about that because you were way too confident ptmc was going to win

the whistle blew and you all walked to where the rest were sitting to drink some water before moving to the other side of the gym for the court change. “mckay, langdon, whitaker, mohan, and ellis are going in now” robby spoke up, “langdon and mohan will be wingers, whitaker play defense, and ellis, you’ll be pivot. any questions?”

“yes, uhm, what exactly am i supposed to do?” dennis asked and trinity laughed

“just–don’t let them get past you, okay? it’ll be fun” you said with a wink

it was absolutely hilarious seeing whitaker stand there with no clue what to do. you laughed and made some game commentary for victoria’s video, which was making the whole thing even funnier. you stood up and walked to him when you heard jack call your name, “ready to go back in?” he asked and you answered “i was born ready, baby.” he chuckled and leaned down a bit to press a kiss on your temple before pushing you in slightly as samira made her way off to sit down next to javadi. by the second time the ten minute mark rolled around, you were feeling light on your feet, coming close to scoring but failing when westbridge’s goalie frustrated your attempts. at least until now, ellis stole the ball from one of them, passing it to langdon. he moved fast to the other side of the court before passing it to ellis, who by this time was completely trapped by both a winger and the pivot. so she passed you the ball and you took it as the perfect opportunity to kick the ball as hard as you could, which made you score your first goal of the afternoon. ellis came running to you and hugged you tight before letting you go and subsequently high-five you

you were stressing out by the time there were less than five minutes left on the game, not because you guys were any close to losing the game but because you were one goal away from winning the entirety of the bet–that was obviously an exaggeration, you were about to win 250 of the 350 dollar betting pool. cassie and shen were probably splitting the rest–shen was now playing in, taking whitaker’s place. “come on, shen. ellis is open, send it ” you heard jack say and made your way down to the opposite side where ellis had received the ball. you made a signal for her to kick the ball to your direction and, at the same time you received the pass, heard robby tell you to shoot it so you did, scoring the goal. shen and ellis came running straight at you, hugging you as you let out a laugh “i won the fucking bet”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

“i cannot believe you literally predicted how the game was gonna end. i need you to predict the next three years of my life” victoria said with a tipsy tone and a sweet drink in her hand. you giggled, taking a swing of your beer. you had obviously won the match and, subsequently, the cup for the fourth time in a row. you were all in the bar on the street down the hospital still donning your soccer uniforms, as well as the medals you had gotten. the cup sat on the center of the table next to the couple of empty beer bottles and empty cocktail glasses. you were sitting halfway on top of jack, who had an arm around your waist to keep you from falling on top of santos, who was sitting next to you

“honestly, i cannot believe it, either” you smiled, “i got it down to a t. but i knew we were going to win, again”

shen called your name, asking if you wanted another beer. you drank the rest of the one in your hand, nodding as an answer before asking him to bring you two beers, one for you and one for jack. you spent the evening chatting with the rest of the crew–now joined by dana, donnie, jessee, princess, and perlah, who had gone to see the quick winning ceremony right after their shift ended–and the evening went by quietly (ellis would kill you for using the q word). later on, santos proposed taking shots, to which mateo, victoria, dennis, ellis, and shen agreed, so they made their way over to the bar dragging a very reluctant samira with them. mckay and jesse were having a nice conversation while waiting by the pool table for it to clear out. robby and dana were sitting on the other side of the bar, drinks in their hands, discussing something in a very light and animated manner. princess and perlah were throwing some darts after making a bet with a ‘couple hot guys’ (princess’s words, not yours). and langdon and mel were looking at the song repertoire for the next round of karaoke

“they look cute together, right?” you said, confusing jack “mel and frank” you cocked your head towards them

“isn’t langdon married?” he asked

“he’s already divorced” you clarified, “but, whatever– just answer me”

“i guess they do, sweetheart,” he shrugged, taking a swing of his beer “how are you feeling?”

“i am so tired,” you gave him a soft smile, “but i’m also really happy. i’m 250 bucks richer, now”

he chuckled “is that so?” 

“yeah, i can buy you dinner now,” you teased. “or not. i’ll keep that money for something else”

he chuckled again, “whatever you want, sweetheart” he brushed the hair out of your face “wanna go home?”

“not yet,” you shook your head “i wanna see shen and ellis doing karaoke,” you giggled before taking a sip of your beer, “and i also want to keep seeing vic and mateo dance around this weird thing they’ve got going on. i’m so glad samira took over the whole filming this for vic’s vlog” you bit a smile

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – 

ja-baddie 

| finally finished editing the vlog!!!

| here’s the link sluts (affectionate)

| and attendings 

| https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS9Juc2Db/

‘hey guys’ victoria started the video in what you assumed was her room ‘today i’m taking you all with me and the ptmc crew to the last match of the hospitals soccer cup. we’ve been playing the cup for like four months because, for nobody’s surprise, ed shifts are unpredictable and it was hell to get everyone’s schedules aligned’ she let out a breath ‘but whatever, today’s the final and we have a lot of money on it so stay tuned to see who wins the match and the game.’ the camera cuts and the next shot is of robby and abbot, both standing ahead of vic and mateo, who had said hello to the vlog beforehand. victoria was zooming in into the shot of both attendings, who were having a quick discussion of the positions and plays for the match. next cut was victoria walking towards the bathroom, ‘i was tasked with finding out what the hell these women are doing and why are they taking so freakin’ long’ 

the video now showed you pinning your braids while mel, trinity, and samira were getting out of the stalls after changing out of their scrubs. ‘say hi, babes’ mel excitedly waved to the camera, samira just gave a small wave and a small smile, trinity nodded with her head, and you mumbled a small hello under your breath as you finished your hair. then, it was the five of you modeling your uniforms through the mirror with a sabrina carpenter song on the back. cassie also made the frame, telling you to hurry up because you still needed to discuss strategy

the next seconds were a sped-up clip of robby and abbot talking strategy with all of you with a funny sound on the back and you softly threatening them to win the game, everyone with concerned and mildly scared expressions. after that, it was filled with videos of each of you predicting the game’s outcome; ‘i think, and it better happen this way because i want to win the bet, that ptmc wins 6-2 in our favor.’ victoria chuckled, ‘what will you do with that cash?’ she asked ‘i’ll pick up everyone’s dunkin orders. i know shen’ll love me forever if i do that.’ you took the chance to get the phone out of victoria’s hands to record her instead, but her prediction was interrupted by mateo throwing her over his shoulder 

‘if i’m honest, i’m scared of the terror twins’ samira said your name, ‘she terrifies me, shen not so much. it’s like an eighty-twenty. but yeah, she’s terrifying when she gets into competitive mode’ the game commentary went on and on, especially when goals were made. all of you jumped up when mel scored the first goal of the match and your voice could be heard in the background of all the noise as you celebrated the possibility of winning the bet. the rest of the goals were also recorded, and from different angles, thanks to some of the nurses and other doctors that were there watching the game

victoria had also recorded you all drinking water, looking exhausted after playing the first twenty minutes. she also recorded robby saying who was going to play next, whitaker’s confused expression while asking what he was supposed to do, and your amused face when telling him to just ‘don’t let them get past.’ the game commentary kept coming, making the video even funnier. you were about to say something else when you were called by jack to go in for samira. victoria had captured the exact moment jack had kissed your temple before softly pushing you in. she also added the failed attempts to score any more goals, and your grumpy expression when shen said something to you when there were less than five minutes left. ‘come on shen. ellis is open, send it’ jack’s back was in the frame before she shifted it to focus on the shen-ellis-you pass before the final goal of the match. then, it was just a lot of shouts, celebratory ones, when shen and ellis were hugging you, big grins on all your faces. ‘we fucking won, oh my god. fourth time in a row’ you were close to crying ‘this was so fun. see you again next year’

next shot was of all of you in the bar. drinks being passed around with soft conversations over the music, all of you still with the uniforms but now with medals around your necks. ‘hey, guys’ you said your name for the camera ‘we just won! and most importantly, i won 250 bucks because apparently i am a physic’ you joked before passing the phone around. next were shen and ellis. she was holding a beer while he had a party hat and a long island on his hand, ‘we are freaking amazing. fourth year in a row, baby!’ shen excitedly said and ellis laughed. next were santos, whitaker, and samira; ‘little miss mohan here scored a goal after being all scared of playin’’ trinity said with a grin on her face, making samira roll her eyes (with a smile) and dennis chuckle, ‘it was really fun. hope we get to play next year too.’ next it was mel and langdon’s turn, she just smiled and nodded while he mentioned how exciting it had been to play for the first time and win. robby was next; he very quickly smiled and said he was ‘feeling like a proud and happy dad’ before passing the phone back to victoria, who now had mateo sitting next to her. they said something unintelligible at the same time and just chuckled, without making a second attempt at speaking

the melodies of ‘like a prayer’ started to play and the camera was now focusing on ellis and shen, who were very happily singing the song as best as they could. you were sitting sideways on jack’s lap, his arm around your waist to keep you from falling backwards. you turned to him, singing him the song while using the beer bottle as your microphone. jack only laughed, encouraging you to keep singing

it was a lot later, you could tell. you were all dispersed around the bar. the camera now recording from the bar, where dennis, mateo, victoria, trinity, and samira were standing waiting for their shots. instead of victoria, it was samira now the one recording, she panned the camera around the bar; showing mckay and jesse as they were having a nice conversation while waiting by the pool table for it to clear out. next she showed robby and dana sitting on the other side of the bar, drinks in their hands, discussing something in a very light and animated manner and, by the looks of it, you assumed robby was telling her everything that happened during the game. next were princess and perlah, who were throwing some darts with a couple of guys. then langdon and mel looking at the song repertoire for the next round of karaoke. at last she showed you and jack, still sitting as you had been before. she zoomed in and captured–as best as she could, considering the lighting (or better, the lack of)–jack looking up at you like you hung the stars in the sky even though your hair was messy after being let down from the braids, having a tired expression on your face and talking nonsense that the mic couldn’t catch from where she was standing

the camera cut to victoria, mateo, santos, dennis, and samira outside the bar waiting for their ubers, victoria tiredly saying ‘thanks for sticking with us today. love you, guys’ before ending the vlog

you didn’t miss the comments down the video,

| where exactly is this er and what do i have to do to get dr hotties to treat me

| damn those two docs at the end surely are the picture perfect of love

| i want to be their friend so bad

| that like a prayer karaoke shot was PERFECT i wanna sing karaoke w them

| i want that girl who basically threatened everyone into winning to talk to me like that

| the docs and the nurses over there sure are fine as hell

| those coaches can coach me whenever they want

| i want someone who looks at me like dr hottie looks at the other dr hottie

so you took the chance to add your own comment; 

By the time you finally escaped into the ambulance bay, the Pitt had descended into the fog that made everyone vaguely mean and snappy to each other. 

A car had decided to plow through the front of a convenience store three blocks away just before noon, which somehow evolved into a gas leak, a grease fire from the kitchen next door, multiple smoke inhalations, and one man who’d managed to impale his own hand on a display rack while trying to “help.” The Pitt had been drowning ever since with no floaties in sight. Stretchers lined the hallways, Robby was barking orders over the chaos, and a med student was getting publicly destroyed for contaminating a sterile field. 

Your entire body ached with exhaustion, and it wasn’t even 2:30 yet. Your scrub top clung uncomfortably to your back, your ponytail was halfway falling out, and the iced coffee you’d brought six hours ago had long since melted into a watery disappointment sitting untouched at the nurses’ station under Dana’s watchful eye. 

You only stepped outside because you needed thirty seconds where nobody was actively bleeding near you. 

The bay smelled faintly like smoke and gasoline, engines rumbling low beneath the distant screams of sirens out in the city. Paramedics moved around in practiced patterns, unloading equipment while firefighters lingered near one of the firetrucks parked crookedly next to an ambulance. You barely paid attention at first, too busy rubbing at the ache gathering behind your eyes. 

You had started to walk back toward the Pitt but stopped entirely when you saw him; well—the back of him anyway with his broad shoulders and dark, soaked curls resting against his nape. Even if you couldn’t see his face, he somehow was able to stand out in a crowd even surrounded by firefighters in full turnout gear. One hand braced against the side of the engine while he spoke to someone beside him, his jacket stretched over his shoulders. 

No matter what, you’d always be able to spot Jack Abbot in a crowd. 

Your eyes dragged slowly over his newfound bright yellow firefighting gear, the reflective stripes glinting. The heavy boots and radio clipped to his chest had you pausing and staring for a solid three seconds, mind trying to process how exactly the man had apparently gone from night shift attending and SWAT medic to volunteer firefighter without mentioning it to anyone. 

But more importantly, mentioning it to you. 

Actually, when you thought about it, knowing Jack, the change tracked perfectly. The man already had a self-sacrificial streak a mile wide. Of course he’d look at one incredibly dangerous side quest and think You know what would make my life even better? Fire. 

A deeply offended laugh escaped your lips, and without thinking too hard about it, you started moving toward him. 

“Seriously, Abbot?” you called out over the noise of the bay. “You take one shift off and suddenly you’re fighting convivence store fires now?” 

The man beside him glanced over first, obviously confused, but Jack turned more slowly, still halfway shrugging out of his jacket as you continued your approach. 

“No, because SWAT clearly wasn’t stressful enough for you,” you continued, tired enough that the words just kept coming. “You looked at armed standoffs and thought, wow, my life is missing a little spontaneous combustion.” 

By the time you reached them, the stranger standing beside him was openly staring at you in amusement. Meanwhile, Jack had gone very still. 

That should have been your first warning. 

But against all self-preservation, you planted your hands on your hips and kept going. “Do you know how insane it is that this is how I’m finding out? I had to see you standing next to a fire engine like some kind of hot, emotionally unstable calendar shoot—” 

Jack finally turned fully toward you, and your brain stopped functioning completely.

Because the man in front of you was not Jack Abbot. 

In your defense, he was close enough to knock the air from your lungs for a second. He had the same dark, hazel eyes, the same rough kind of handsomeness that looked better the more exhausted and grimed up they got. They even had the same intimidating build that made people move out of their way without a second glance. 

But somehow, this man looked older that Jack, more self-assured in a way that only grew as he looked deeply entertained by your humiliation already unfolding in real time. The silence stretched until the firefighter next to him snorted loudly into his fist. 

Your stomach dropped straight through the floor. 

“I’m flattered you think I’m hot.” The not-Jack’s mouth twitched slightly. “But is it a bad time to mention my name’s not Jack?” 

Heat flooded your face so fast it physically hurt. “No,” you breathed, horrified out of your mind. “No, no, no.” 

Now the firefighter beside him was fully laughing, turning away entirely as though witnessing your embarrassment firsthand had become too much for him to handle. 

You covered your face with both hands. “I need someone to hit me with an ambulance immediately.” 

“That feels awfully dramatic,” the man said. 

Your eyes found him through the slats of your fingers. “You have my attending’s face.” 

“I’m starting to gather that.” 

“You even stand like him,” you accused, voice muffled by your palms. “Which is apparently enough for me to lose all critical thinking skills.” 

He laughed softly, low and rough enough to make the situation somehow worse. “Well,” he said, “in fairness, you seemed pretty confident.” 

You lowered your hands just enough to glare at him. “Because I really thought my friend had secretly joined the fire department.” 

The stranger folded his arms across his chest, turnout jacket hanging loosely from one hand while he studied you with open amusement. “So this Jack guy—he always gets yelled at like this by you?” 

“Only when he does something stupid.” 

“I’m starting to think I should meet him.” 

You shook your head, hands finally dropping back to your sides. “You abso-fucking-lutely should not. I think seeing both of you in the same room might kill me instantly.” 

He grinned wildly, quick but devastatingly effective enough it sent tingles up your spine.

Great. Fantastic. Love that for you. One Jack Abbot was hard enough to not stare at as is; having them both in the same room would actually cause a spontaneous combustion of your body. 

You sighed heavily, dragging a hand down your face. “Okay. Wonderful. I’m gonna go crawl into oncoming traffic now if you don’t mind.” 

Before you could make your great escape, he stuck out his hand toward you. “Captain Brett Richards.” 

You looked at it suspiciously for a second before taking it. His grip was warm, firm, and rough with callouses in all the right places. You gave over your name reluctantly, still unable to fully look him in the face without feeling embarrassed all over again. 

Unfortunately for you, he spoke again, timber all deep and ragged. “For the record, I was gonna let you keep going.” 

Your eyes snapped to his hazel ones. “What?” 

“I wanted to see how long it took you before you noticed.” 

“You are a bad person, Brett Richards.” 

“I’m a curious person. There’s a difference.” 

“You stood there and listened to me accuse you of having a hero complex.” 

“Seemed important to you.” 

“I’ve been publicly humiliated!” 

“Just humiliated between me and my friend. I don’t think that counts as the public.” 

You pointed at him accusingly. “You’re creepy.” 

“What?” 

“The tone you’re doing right now.” 

Brett blinked. “What tone?” 

“The exact same tone he uses when he thinks I’m being ridiculous.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You sound exactly like him too.” 

Now he looked offended. “I do not.” 

“You absolutely do. You’re even doing the whole arms cross and puffing out your chest while simultaneously stretching your neck to look taller.” 

The other firefighter chimed in. “Honestly, Brett? She’s kinda right.” 

Brett looked over, absolute betrayal on his face. “Whose side are you on?” 

“Definitely not yours.” 

You laughed loudly, fatigue finally cracking enough to let something lighter through. At the same moment, your phone buzzed in your scrub pocket. You pulled it out, eyes widening at the incoming message. 

Jack:  Running late. Scene turned into a disaster. Save me a trauma room before some other resident does something stupid. 

“I bet you two text the same,” you grumbled, shoving your phone back into your pocket before looking back up at him. 

He laughed outright at that, shoulders shaking slightly. “Sounds like you know this man intimately. Do you possibly have a type? Or do you grumble at every silver fox in your area.” 

You glared at him as best you could. “I don’t have a type. Do not make this my problem.” 

“Feels like your problem already.” 

“Oh, we absolutely aren’t doing this today.” Still, a smile grew on your face before you started backing toward the ambulance bay doors again. “I’m leaving before this gets more psychologically damaging.” 

Brett called after you easily, “Tell Jack Abbot I’m apparently his hotter firefighter version!” 

You stepped dead in your tracks and slowly turned around. “. . .You know what?” you said thoughtfully. “I actually think saying that out loud near him might start a physical fight.” 

Brett’s grin widened. “Now I definitely want to meet him.” 

_______________________

The worst shifts always seem to end quietly and not anywhere close to peaceful. The Pitt, you liked to think, was incapable of achieving peace. Even now, close to midnight (almost five hours after your shift “officially ended”), you left behind blaring monitors, patients in needed of doctors, and exhausted coworkers who had just started to trade sarcastic insults at the station just to stay awake. But compared to the disaster the evening had started, the hospital had tasted almost manageable to where you believed they had everything handled. 

Your feet dragged as you stepped out through the ambulance bay doors, the night air cool against the lingering heat trapped beneath your scrub jacket. The city smelled faintly damp from rain earlier in the evening, asphalt still dark under the lights. 

You leaned against the brick wall beside the entrance for a second, closing your eyes briefly. 

Today had been brutal in the particular way only emergency medicine could manage. There had been too many patients, too many families crying in the halls, too many moments where things almost went wrong before somebody caught it at the last second. You’d spent more than twelve hours keeping yourself stitched together with caffeine and momentum, and now that things finally slowed down enough, your brain had apparently decided to stop all regular functions, effective immediately. 

Which was probably why, when you spotted a familiar figure standing near one of the patrol cars parked on the other side of the street, the pieces fell into place, your brain beaming Oh, Jack just left too? 

Jack stood with his back partially toward you, shoulders slumped slightly beneath a dark jacket while one hand rested against the roof of the cruiser. His head tilted down toward the coffee in his hand, dark curls shadowed in the lack of street lights. 

You didn’t even think before walking toward the warm, familiar build that held the same tired posture Jack adopted after a nasty shift, almost preparing his body to show up the next day anyway. 

“Please tell me,” you called out tiredly, “that your shift was somehow worse than mine so I can feel better about my life choices.” 

Jack glanced over at the sound of your voice, but you kept talking before fully seeing his face. 

“Because if I have to hear one more over pompous med student stay the words ‘technically speaking,’ I’m actually going to commit a felony.” 

A low huff of amusement answered you. “Long night?” 

“Long life is more like it,” you corrected, finally stepping slow enough to see him properly. 

You froze when he fully turned, because the universe apparently had a personal vendetta against you for probably your past life’s sins. Because once again, the man standing in front of you was not Jack Abbot. Yes, he was close enough to make your stomach drop for a second. His eyes glinted with the same sadness Jack’s did. He even had the same rough exhaustion written lines around his mouth. However, this man looked like someone who absorbed the weight of things instead of fighting against them. 

Also, now that he was turned to you, his officer badge and uniform stuck out like a sore thumb. 

And unlike Brett earlier in the week, this stranger didn’t look quite as amused by your mistake. He just looked tired. 

You stopped short of the cruiser, horror crawling slowly up your spine. “Oh.” 

He blinked once before taking a slow sip of coffee. “Bad start to the conversation?” 

“Fuck me; I did it again,” you muttered to yourself. 

“Again?” 

You covered your face briefly with one hand, humiliation already blatant on your face. “There’s apparently two other guys walking around Pittsburgh with your exact face.” 

“Well, that sound concerning.” 

“I’m very concerned for my mental status.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched, subtle enough you almost missed it. 

You let out a defeated sigh, face turned toward the sky, before gesturing vaguely toward him. “You are not Jack Abbot.” 

“Nope.” 

“Perfect.”

“You wanna try my name instead?” There wasn’t even a hint of annoyance in his voice. If anything, he sounded mildly curious about the situation unfolding in front of him. 

You laughed weakly, hands lightly tapping your thighs. “Honestly, I think I should just stop talking to strangers forever.” 

“You always this extreme when mistaking people for another?” 

“Only when I keep finding multiple emotionally exhausted men who all look exactly like my attending.” 

That earned you a slightly more noticeable smile as he pushed away from the patrol car, holding out one hand toward you. “Sammy Bryant.” 

You shook it, still staring at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry, Officer Bryant, but this is all still genuinely ridiculous to me.” 

Sammy glanced down at your hospital badge as you gave him your name. “You work inside?” 

“Unfortunately.”

“Late shift?” 

You shook your head. “You could say that. I started at seven this morning.” 

His eyebrows lifted. “And you’re still standing?” 

“Barely.” You looked down at your body. “I think my soul high tailed it out of there around hour nine and never came back.” 

A soft laugh escaped him, quieter than Brett’s hand been, but still holding the same warmth that made you feel comfortable. 

You mentally made a decision before leaning back against his patrol car beside him, rubbing at your eyes with one hand. For a moment, neither of you spoke and just listened to the faint noises of the night. 

Sammy took another sip of coffee before nodding toward the hospital. “Was it busy today?” 

A long, shuddering breath whistled through your lips. “One trauma after another. Half the city apparently decided today was a great day to make terrible healthcare decisions.” 

“Sounds about right.” 

“And one student almost gave a patient the wrong dosage because he was trying to impress our boss.” 

Sammy grimaced, lips curling up. “How reassuring.” 

“We caught it before it happened, but still.” Your hair moved slowly across your forehead as you shook your head tiredly. “At some point though you just start wondering if everyone should stop touching things altogether or find some patience before they kill someone.” 

He hummed softly in agreement, hazel eyes drifting toward the street. “You probably already know, but that feeling really doesn’t ever go away.” 

You glanced over at him, taking in his face properly. Like your Jack, Sammy seemed to carry the same heaviness about him, like emergency services hadn’t been kind to either of them. 

“How long have you been on the force?” you asked quietly, taking his uniform details in as your eyes roamed. 

“Twelve years.” 

“Explains your expression.” 

At least he didn’t sound offended when he asked, “What expression?” 

“The one that says humanity was a big mistake.” 

He chuckled lowly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You nailed that one perfectly.” 

A faint smile hooked onto your lips before your head tipped back against the cruiser window behind you. “Jack has that look too.” 

Sammy looked over. “The guy I apparently share a face with?” 

“Yep.” You looked down at your hands, fingers picking at the skin around your nails. “Him and this firefighter named Richards.” 

“What does Jack do?” 

“He’s the night shift attending, and he volunteers as a SWAT medic during his free days.”

Sammy nodded along, understanding settling across his face as he listened. “That tracks.” 

“You say that like you know him.” 

“Don’t need to.” He shrugged. “You can tell what kind of person someone is by the jobs they stay in too long.” 

For a second, you watched him quietly beneath the moonlight, struck again by how strange this whole thing felt. It wasn’t because he looked like Jack—though that continued to be deeply unsettling—but because talking to him felt easy in the same dangerous way talking to Jack always did; honesty dripping from their mouths the more tired they got. 

Similarly, Sammy studied you for a moment before speaking again. “Are you okay?” 

His question caught you off guard. Again, that genuine earnestness they both seemed to have bled through even if Sammy had only met you moments ago. 

Your eyes traveled back down to your hands for a second before a half laugh bubbled softly under your breath. “You ever have one of those days where you think maybe everyone should stop needing things from you for like . . . twenty-four hours?” 

“Yeah,” Sammy answered. “More than once. My ex-wife used to call me all the time, and I just begged for break.” 

It was now your turn to wince. “Logically, I know it’s a terrible mindset to have as someone working in healthcare, but after the fifth screaming family member and the third guy trying to leave with an IV still in his arm, I’m starting to reconsider my commitment to helping people.” 

“You’re tired,” he said simply. 

“I think cranky is a better term for what I’m feeling right now.” 

“You’re human.” 

You glanced back up at him. “You know, you’re both annoyingly and suspiciously good at this whole peptalk thing.” 

“Me and Jack?” 

“Yeah. You have this calm voice thing. It’s irritating.” 

Sammy smirked into his coffee cup. “Maybe you just trust guys who look too tired for life.” 

“Maybe I need therapy.” 

“That too.” 

You laughed a bit harder at that than the joke deserved, but exhaustion always made you a bit slaphappy. Once the sound subsided, the two of you fell back into a comfortable silence. Sammy stayed leaned beside the cruiser, quiet in a way that didn’t feel awkward, and you realized that the comfortableness was probably the strangest part of the whole ordeal. 

As a senior resident, most people demanded every ounce of energy from you. Conversation. Reassurance. Attention. They picked it all apart until a hollow shell of yourself went home to recharge for another day. But standing here with him felt easy in the same way standing beside Jack did after a nightmare shift. There wasn’t pressure to perform, zero expectation to be cheerful, just silent understanding between two people trying to survive difficult jobs. 

Sammy finally glanced toward you again. “Whoever this Jack guy is,” he said casually, “he must be worth confusing strangers over.” 

“That’s still up for debate.” 

“But you still like him.” 

You opened your mouth to argue before realizing you had no real defense against that, and Sammy absolutely noticed. A knowing sort of amusement flashed briefly across his face before he looked back out toward the street and the Pitt again, giving you an out without pressing further. 

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately I do. He’s annoyingly competent.” 

“Dangerous trait to have.” 

And he does this thing where he acts like indifferent while actively solving all the problems.” 

“Real terrible guy.” 

You rolled your eyes fondly. “He’s just the worst.” 

Sammy laughed quietly, and you smiled before finally pushing away from the cruiser. 

“I should probably head to my car before somebody sees I’m still here and decides they need me to pull a double.” 

His eyebrows rose. “Probably.” 

“It was nice to meet you, Sammy.” 

“Likewise.”

As you started in the direction of the parking lot, Sammy lifted his coffee slightly in farewell. 

“And hey,” he called out after a few steps. 

You paused and turned back toward him with a raised eyebrow. 

“If you run into another one of us,” he said dryly, “maybe lead with the name first!” 

Your laugh echoed across the bay as you flipped him the bird to which his boisterous laughter also joined in with yours all the way to the parking lot. 

_______________________

By the fifth twelve-hour shift in a row, the Pitt stopped feeling real. 

Time blurred through patient rooms. Daylight disappeared without warning. Meals became whatever you could hork down before another trauma alarm went off. Entire conversations slipped from your memory the second someone started coding. By three in the afternoon, the Pitt finally settled into a lapping wave instead of a tsunami, something easier to wade through instead of drown in. 

You’d be done in four hours. 

That’s all you could think as you found yourself wandering the full surprisingly empty area near radiology with a vending machine coffee clenched in one hand and your pager clipped crookedly to your scrub pants after catching another consult. 

The coffee tasted burnt enough to qualify as chemical warfare. 

You drank it down anyway. 

Your shoulders ached as you rounded the corner toward the quieter hallway leading to imagine, gravity pulled extra heavily at your limbs. Most of the overhead lights had dimmed this far from the trauma bays, leaving the corridor washed in soft blue-gray shadows only broken by the occasional flicker of a light lucky enough to have had its bulbs changed recently. 

That was when you spotted Jack sitting alone against the wall near the windows. 

Your steps slowed automatically. 

Even half-curled into one of the uncomfortable chairs that had been brought in from check-in, you found the familiar dark curls along his forehead and broad shoulders hunched beneath a black sweatshirt. His long legs stretched out in front of him while his hands rested loosely clasped together between his knees.

Your mind should have caught up by now that there was a 95 percent chance that the Jack in front of you was not actually Jack. The past two times, the odds had been against you. Even as you approached, you honestly weren’t sure if he actually was Jack. 

But his Jack-Abbot shape and Jack-Abbot demeanor mixed with your weighted exhaustion overrode every caution light fast enough you continued to walk steadily towards him. 

“You know handoff’s not for another four hours, right?” you asked tiredly. “Or are you here early again to save the day?” 

Jack’s neck twisted as he looked up at you, and for one brief second, your brain short-circuited again. 

Three and oh. 

You found yourself truly wondering if you had the most absurd luck in finding the men who shared unsettling similarities (hazel eyes, rugged kind of handsomeness, a stillness that carried respect that could command a room) or if you were just unfortunately a Jack-Abbot-doppelganger magnet. 

In this instance, you wished for neither because this one looked sad. 

Where Jack’s exhaustion usually kept him sharp and tightly wound, this stranger looked just as weighed down as you felt. His expression stayed completely unreadable as he stared at you, hazel eyes fixed so intently on your face that you had stopped walking altogether. 

You paused in front of him. “Oh no,” you whispered. “I did it again.” 

The man continued staring at you silently, and you stared back. After a beat, he slowly tilted his head just slightly to one side in a movement so subtle it almost felt animal-like. Your stomach dropped. 

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re name isn’t Jack.” 

Still, he said nothing; such a stark difference from Brett’s flirty amusement and Sammy’s conversational abilities. He just watched you. 

You laughed weakly into the silence. “Okay, statistically this is getting insane.” 

He blinked once before his gaze dropped briefly to the coffee in your hand before lifting back to your face. “Is that good?” 

His voice was the thing to catch you off guard. Where Jack could bark orders quicker than he could blink, this man spoke slowly, careful with his words like he though each one over before letting it leave his mouth. 

A startled exhale flew from your mouth. “No. But, I think I’m legally dead at this point, so what I put in my body really doesn’t matter.” 

Another long pause settled in the space between you, and he didn’t seem bothered at all by it. If anything, he seemed pretty comfortable inside it unlike everyone else you knew (including yourself). 

You shifted your weight awkwardly. “Sorry. Again. I thought you were someone else.”

He methodically nodded once, already having figured that part out. “The same someone else?” 

“Damn, there’s enough resemblance now that people are starting to notice patterns.” You glanced toward an empty chair beside him before looking into his eyes with uncertainty. “Can I sit, or will I disturb the quiet zen you have going on back here?” 

Another pause. 

“You can sit.” 

You lowered yourself carefully into the chair beside him, fatigue instantly sinking deeper into your bones the second you stopped moving. The burnt-gas-tasting coffee warmed your palms while the quiet hallway stretched around you, distant hospital noises muffled enough to sound almost unreal this far away from the Pitt. 

Beside you, the stranger sat perfectly still like he was scared to breach an invisible wall of containment. After a few moments, you began to noticed the differences between him and Jack. He avoided looking directly at the lights. His fingers slowly rubbed against each other every few seconds like he needed the repetitive motion to stay grounded. He kept a careful distance between himself and you. 

“Are you waiting on somebody?” you asked gently. 

His eyes shifted toward you, intense enough that it almost felt like physical pressure. 

“My brother,” he answered after a second. “He got hurt.” 

 Concern softened through your exhaustion. “Is he okay?” 

He gave another small shrug. “He’s alive.” 

His words may have been flat, but you could sense the ache badly enough that you heard it anyway. 

You nodded. “That’s usually a good start around here. Can’t do much on a dead guy.”

A small almost-smile curled his lip. 

You took a small sip of your coffee and grimaced before the liquid even reached your throat. “Holy fuck that’s terrible.” 

His eyes looked down at the cup. 

“How can anyone call this coffee when it tastes like somebody filtered dirty water through cigarette ash,” you informed him. 

He stared at you for a half second longer than most people would have before asking unexpectedly, “Why are you still drinking it?” 

You giggled softly. “Because I still have a few patients to get through before handoffs.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. I feel the same way.” 

A silence settled again, soft and comfortable where you found yourself glancing sideways at him occasionally while you sat there. Up close, the resemblance to Jack somehow became even more unfair. However, you guessed this is how Jack looked around 10 years ago with brownish-red hair and fewer wrinkles. But yet, the same feeling that both men carried too much responsibility around like extra weight strapped to their shoulders pulled at your heartstrings. 

Also, where Jack’s emotions tended to sit close to the surface—irritation, protectiveness, frustration—this man kept everything buried so deeply you almost wondered if he realized that his expressions gave him away at all. Because despite how blank his face stayed while he either stared at the floor or stared at you, his eyes were devastatingly easy to read. 

Lonely, your brain supplied. 

You tore your eyes away. “So,” you said quietly after a while, “do you have a name, or should I keep mentally referring to you as Not Jack the Third?” 

He pursed his lips. “Andrew.” 

No nickname. 

Not even a last name. 

Just Andrew. 

You smiled faintly. “Well, Andrew, for what it’s worth, you’re significantly less judgmental about mistaken identity than the last two.” 

“The last two?” 

“Long story.” 

He nodded once like that answer satisfied him completely. Another few minutes passed quietly before your pager suddenly buzzed against your hip hard enough to make you jump. Andrew’s eyes tracked the movement carefully. 

“Do you need to go help people?” 

“Yep. Part of the job’s charm.” 

“You’re tired.” 

“There’s no rest for the wicked.” Your head tilted. “Or me for that matter.” 

He looked at you again with that same strange, steady focus. “You should sleep more.” 

“You sound like Jack.” 

Andrew tilted his head slightly. “Is that good?” 

“Yeah,” you answered softly. “It’s very good.” 

His gaze lingered on your face for another long moment before he finally looked away first. You stood slowly from the chair, adjusting your pager against your waistband. 

“I should go save the hospital from itself,” you muttered sarcastically. 

Andrew nodded once. Then, just before you turned away completely, his voice stopped you again. “You looked happier when you talked about him . . . your Jack.” 

You blinked before slowly looking back at him. Andrew sat exactly where you’d left him, hands loosely clasped together, sad eyes fixed on you under the dim hallway lights. He wasn’t flirting or trying to charm you; he was just stating something he’d noticed. His honesty hit harder than it probably should have. 

You smiled warmly back at him. “Have a good rest of your day, Andrew.” 

His gaze followed you all the way down the hallway until you disappeared around the corner and back into the Pitt. 

_______________________

By now, you should have known better. 

Key words: should have. 

Three separate incidents should have been enough to teach your brain not to immediately trust broad shoulders and tired hazel eyes in low lighting, and yet apparently your never-ending exhaustion had burned away whatever survival instincts you normally possessed. At this point, the universe seemed committed to producing endless variations of the same emotionally damaged man just to see how many times you’d embarrassed yourself before learning. 

Unfortunately, tonight really wasn’t helping your judgment. 

Rain hammered steadily against your windshield as you pulled into the near-empty parking garage attached to the hospital, the concrete levels echoing faintly with the sound of tires and distant thunder. Your night shift was supposed to start soon, give or take an hour, but a last-minute emergency surgery had called you in early just in case Jack was held up or if the rain got too much for you to drive safely in. 

All you wanted was to get inside, get your Dunkin from Shen, and live through this shift so that your following two days off were nothing but pure paradise. 

Instead, you killed the engine and sat there for a second staring blankly through the rain-streaked windshield while tiredness settled heavy behind your eyes. 

The parking garage was mostly empty this late at night. Lights buzzed overhead, washing the concrete levels in pale gray while rainwater dripped steadily from the ceiling near the ramps. Somewhere farther down the row, a radio played faintly form another parked car. 

You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat with a tired sigh before climbing out into the cold damp air. The moment you were at full height, you spotted Jack leaning against one of the concrete support pillars a few rows over. You froze, hand still gripping your car door. 

At this point, his face shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was, your stomach dropping every single time you got to lay eyes on him and his salt-and-pepper curls and sexy build partially hidden under a dark jacket while one hand rested causally in his pocket. 

The faintest hint of This is probably another horrifyingly convincing copy of him. And honestly, who even knew anymore. 

Jack glanced up at you as you started to walk; your footsteps echoed slightly. His face was partially shadowed by the buzzing lights. And before your brain could fully catch up, your own mouth betrayed you first. 

Et tu, Brute?

“If you turn out to be another stranger, I’m actually gonna lose my mind.” 

Jack’s eyebrows lifted slightly before the corner of his mouth curled into something that looked far too pleased. 

“Well now,” he drawled, voice salted with a southern accent that instantly threw you off balance, “that ain’t usually how good-looking women start conversations with me.” 

You stopped short, because absolutely nothing about that voice sounded like Jack or confident Brett or sweet Sammy or quiet Andrew. This one was different with something slick underneath his drawl like he found the entire interaction entertaining before it had even properly started. 

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath, arms wrapping around your middle to somehow protect you from his eyes. 

The now stranger pushed off the pillar slowly, watching you with open amusement as he stepped fully into the lights. And unfortunately, the resemblance to Jack got worse the closer he got. Same face shape? Check. Same hazel eyes? Check (but his sent the wrong kind of chill up your spine). 

However, unlike the others, this man looked at you like he already knew exactly how attractive he was, and that automatically made him the worst one to be around. 

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Gotta take a wild guess and say your name isn’t Jack Abbot.” 

A wild grin slowly spread across his face. “No, ma’am but sounds like I oughta thank him for the introduction.” 

You actually groaned aloud. “I cannot keep doing this.”  

“Doin’ what?” 

“Finding men who all have the same face.” 

“That so?”

“Yes, and frankly it’s getting psychologically damaging.” 

The stranger laughed softly, low and self-satisfied enough to make your skin prickle slightly. The same quiet internal warning that told you when patients were about to become aggressive before security even notices was sending a tingle up your arms. 

You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder. “Okay. Great. Nice meeting you, mysterious parking garage man, but I’m gonna go before this gets more embarrassing for me.” 

“Funny,” he said casually, “seems like you started this conversation pretty confident.” 

You paused. “That was before you spoke.” 

His grin widened somehow. “Little disappointed?” 

“Concerned, actually. Very concerned.” 

He laughed again, stepping away from the pillar entirely. “Damn, darlin’. You always this mean to strangers?”  

The nickname landed wrong in your chest. Just the way he said it felt off. It wasn’t flirty, it was possessive, almost like he’d skipped straight past normal conversation and decided familiarity for himself. It all felt wrong; he felt wrong. Caution slowly sharpened under your exhaustion. 

Still, you forced a polite smile. “Only the ones lurking dramatically in a hospital parking garage.” 

He pouted, bottom lip jutted out dramatically. “You hurt my feelings a little.” 

“You’ll survive.” 

“Oh, I think I will.” His hazel eyes trailed up and down your body while he spoke. 

Your stomach tightened faintly. This man felt dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with physical violence and everything to do with manipulation. Every work out of his mouth seemed like he’d already calculated it before he said it. The others had felt human and even awkward at times, but they had been grounded below it all. 

This one, you understood a bit too late, was that he’d realized you were uncomfortable almost immediately and was enjoying watching you squirm under eyes that normally made you feel safe. 

He tilted his head slightly, eyes moving over your face with unsettling ease. “So this Jack guy,” he said conversationally, “boyfriend?” 

You sneered. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Do you ask invasive questions to every woman you meet in parking garages?”

“Only the pretty little ones.” 

You physically recoiled a little. “Ew.” 

Somehow that only amused him more. “Do you always look this suspicious, or am I special?” 

“You’re definitely something.” 

Another slow grin spread across his face, but his eyes stayed sharp and watchful. You took a small step backward instinctively, and his gaze dropped to the movement. The awful feeling that he noticed everything tightened your chest. 

“You got a name?” he asked. 

Normally, under any other circumstance, you would’ve answered immediately. But something stopped you this time. The hesitation must have shown on your face because sick amusement flashed across his face and morphed into a look of interest. 

“Smart girl,” he murmured. 

Your spine stiffened. 

The man straightened slightly before offering you a lazy, sleazy half-smile. “Terry. Terry McCandless.” 

You nodded once carefully. “Okay . . . Terry. I’m gonna leave now.” 

“Before tellin’ me yours?” 

“Yes.” 

His eyebrows lifted slightly at your blunt answer before he laughed under his breath, shaking his head like you’d surprised him. “Well,” he drawled, “now I’m definitely curious.” 

You started backing slowly toward the Pitt, grip tightening around your bag’s strap. Terry noticed that too. For one long second, neither of you spoke. Rain echoed heavily through the garage, the entire level suddenly feeling far too empty. Terry tilted his head slightly again, studying you with blatant interest. 

“You know,” he said casually, “most women would’ve already left.” 

You forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Most women probably have better instincts than I do.” 

“Mm.” His gaze lingered on you another second too long, so unlike how Andrew had watched you with a quiet curiosity. Here, Terry looked at you like he was hungry. “I don’t think that’s true.” 

Suddenly, you understood with startling clarity exactly how dangerous his personality could become with the wrong person. 

You took another step backward. “Goodnight, Terry.” 

He smiled again, easy and handsome and entirely untrustworthy. “Night, darlin’.” 

You didn’t breathe properly again until you got through the doors leading to the Pitt. And even then, as you walked down the hall and took a glance back toward the concrete pillar where he’d been standing, Terry was watching you the whole time.

_______________________

You hated when Robby voluntold you to attend hospital fundraising events. 

The Pitt survived on donations almost as much as caffeine and trauma surgeons with superiority complexes. New equipment, expanded programs, research grants: all of it depended on wealthy people occasionally deciding to feel generous for tax purposes. However, that didn’t mean you wanted to spend your Friday night pretending to enjoy lukewarm champagne while hospital executives paraded donors around like show dogs ranked somewhere below “paperwork” and slightly above “food poisoning” on your list of favorite activities. 

The ballroom glittered obnoxiously around you, gold light reflecting off crystal chandeliers while a string quartet played softly near the stage. Doctors mingled through clusters of wealthy sponsors in expensive dresses and tailored tuxedos, all perfectly polished smiles and practiced networking. 

Meanwhile, you stood near the bar in horrifically high heel that you knew were actively trying to murder your feet and wondered if you could fake your own death before dessert was served. 

“You look positively thrilled to be here,” a familiar, deep voice sounded behind you, causing you to sigh in desperate relief. 

Without even turning around, you lifted your champagne flute toward him. “Jack, I swear if you’re actually not you and just another man with your face, I’m walking directly off the roof of this hotel.”  

“Well now I’m interested.” 

Your stomached dropped as you turned around slowly. 

At this point, it honestly felt biblical like a divine comedy staring you as the leading role. 

The resemblance hit just as hard as the others had: same hazel eyes, same shoulder width, same cutting-edge jawline, same good looks that apparently existed in endless horrifying variations across Pittsburgh. But where Brett had been charming and Sammy had been grounding and Andrew had carried that quiet sadness around him like a shadow and Terry had been intensely creepy, this man looked completely insane. 

Sure, he exuded a I’m probably the wealthiest mother fucker in this room attitude. His black tuxedo was tailored perfectly across his shoulders, curls styled to perfection away from his face, large ring-adorned hands holding a crystal whiskey glass. He was rich, polished, and handsome enough that half the women in the ballroom had probably already given him bedroom eyes twice. 

But there was something deeply unwell behind the hazel glint. 

He smiled slowly. “How many of us are there?” 

You stared at him in exhausted belief. “Enough that I’m considering neurological testing.”

“How funny it is that you’ve met them all.” 

“I wouldn’t say funny. One of your little clones in a parking garage looked like he might actually kill me to swing a jury.” 

Instead of reacting like a normal human being—wincing or flashing sympathy—the man had the audacity to laugh a rich, warm, delighted sound that absolutely did not match the deeply unsettling energy radiating off of him. 

“Oh, I already like you,” he announced. 

You took a cautious sip of champagne. “Somehow that made me less comfortable instead of more.” 

“I get that a lot.” 

You hummed. “Yes, I’m sure you do.” 

He stepped closer easily, like your personal space was more of a suggestion than a rule. “And what exactly did this Jackdo to earn so such a reaction?” 

“His face apparently exists just to humiliate me in public.” 

“Do you seek his face out often?” 

“Seems like it’s seeking me out more.” 

“Ah. One of those situations.” 

Your eyes narrowed questionably. “You say that like you know what I mean.” 

“I know what obsession looks like, little dove.” Before you could respond, he extended his whiskey glass slightly toward you in a mock toast. “Titus Danforth.” 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

For the first time, you actually recognized the same; not personally, obviously, but the Danforth family practically owned half the city at this point. Generational wealth that seems sketchy with endless political influence and charities where people pretended billionaires cared about humanity because they funded pediatric wings occasionally. 

You straightened your shoulders and mused over his name in your mouth. “You’re that Danforth.” 

His grin widened. “Now, don’t sound too accusatory, or I might think you have a deep resentment towards me already.” 

“Who’s to say I haven’t always had a deep resentment.” 

“Good.” He took another sip from his glass without breaking eye contact. “Most people here are too scared to insult me directly.” 

“And that doesn’t concern you?” 

“It mostly entertains me.” 

You glanced toward the ballroom crowd again, briefly trying to find Robby and considering escape routes. However, Titus seemed to carry Terry’s unnaturally uncanny ability to notice things like that. 

“Relax,” he drawled lazily. “You look like I’m planning to sacrifice you to Satan or something.” 

A chill ran up your spine. “Are you?” 

He looked down at you over his nose. “I’m still deciding on that.” 

You blinked at hi, slowly. “I’m sorry. What?” 

Titus looked downright delighted by being one the receiving end of your scrunched up face. “Oh, come on. You’re at a billionaire fundraiser. You have to know at least half these people are one blood ritual away from immortality.” 

A look of horror washed over your face as your blood ran cold. He stared back, visibly trying not to laugh. 

“You’re joking,” you finally decided on with a small, uncomfortable laugh. 

“That’s the fun part.” He tilted his head slightly. “You really can never tell.” 

Oh, absolutely not. 

Every single alarm bell in your body started ringing simultaneously in a way that hadn’t happened yet. See, Terry hadn’t felt as dangerous as he was calculated and manipulative. Titus felt like mad chaos draped in designer fabric, like someone had handed a deeply unstable man unlimited money and simply hoped for the best. 

“You have the exact same face as someone I trust,” you informed him cautiously, “and you’re doing irreparable damage the longer this conversation continues.” 

“How will you ever recover?” 

“Hopefully the moment we go our separate ways.” 

Titus laughed softly again before gesturing out toward the ballroom. “So, what’s your role here? Underpaid attending? Morally exhausted nurse? One of those residents constantly on the verge of collapse?” 

“You guessed all of those so confidently it’s a bit concerning.” 

“I donate to hospitals constantly, and I’ve watched enough caffeine addictions develop in real time to identify the species.” 

Despite yourself, a small giggle escaped, to which Titus noticed instantly. And the look on his face afterward morphed into something even more dangerous. 

“So you are capable of laughing,” he murmured. “You look less miserable when you do that.” 

The words hit unexpectedly hard because Andrew had said almost the exact same thing days earlier. However, when Andrew said it, it sounded like he did out of a deep concern, but when Titus said it, it sounded like you were a small bug under a microscope. Apparently, this entire cursed lineup shared one collective personality trait, and it was psychoanalyzing you against your will. 

You pointed at him. “No. You don’t get to do that.” 

His eyebrows lifted innocently. “Do what?” 

“You are not allowed to suddenly become emotionally observant when you were just talking about devil sacrifice thirty seconds ago.” 

“Is it a sin to be attentive?” 

“It’s a sin to act like you care when obviously I’m merely just a game to you.” 

Titus grinned into his glass. “Oh, I definitely like you.” 

Before you could spit back another insult, another man suddenly appeared beside you with the kind of smooth interruption that felt almost rehearsed. You silently thanked everything that could hear you when the familiar height towered over you. 

“There’s my favorite resident,” Robby announced as he took your right side. 

You glanced over at him and tried not to melt at the sight of his navy suit that looked slightly less expensive than Titus’s but worn with significantly more exhaustion in the way Robby existed in. His expression softened as he looked down at you. You could have hugged him on sight. 

Robby’s brown eyes, normally filled with kindness, bore fiery into Titus’s. “You don’t mind if I borrow her for a moment, do you? I think one of our department heads was looking into speaking to us on behalf of our emergency department.” 

His lie was painfully obvious but deeply appreciated on your side. You started stepping away before Titus could start another conversation about ritual sacrifice, however, the sound of his voice made you pause and look back just as Titus was pulling out a sleek black checkbook from inside his tuxedo jacket. 

Double oh no. 

He scribbled something quickly before tearing the check free and holding it out toward you between two fingers. “For your hospital.” 

You stared down at the number and tried not to faint on the spot. 

“Titus—” 

“What?” He looked genuinely amused now. “You people keep fixing rich idiots after yacht accidents. Consider it gratitude.” 

“That is way too much money.” 

“Probably.”

“You cannot casually hand people checks equivalent to a small lakeside house in Italy.” 

“Sure I can.” His lips twitched into a smirk. “Watch me.” 

You hesitated before slowly taking in. 

Robby clanged at the amount over your shoulder and physically winced. “Holy fuck. Gloria’s going to be floored.” 

Titus lifted his glass again with a lazy smile. “See? Devil worship pays well.” 

You backed away after that. “Okay. I’m going to leave before you buy me a cursed mansion that makes me blow up or something.”

“How did you know that was next on my list?” 

“It seemed very on brand.” 

Thankfully, Robby took the break in conversation to steer you safely toward the other side of the ballroom, champagne still in one hand and a horrifyingly large Danforth charity check in the other. 

Once the gap was large enough, Robby leaned down enough to whisper, “Tell me I’m not seeing things, and that he didn’t look exactly like Jack.” 

You let out a large, exasperated sigh. “Robby, you have no idea.” 

_______________________

At this point, you genuinely believed the universe was mocking you. There was no other sane explanation for the past few weeks. 

One doppelgänger had been weird coincidence territory. Two had been unsettling. Three had crossed into psychological combat. Four had nearly gotten you murdered in a parking lot. And the fifth had tried to recruit you into what might’ve been a satanic cult before handing you a charity donation large enough to make a hospital board cry (Gloria did indeed faint as well). 

You were simply done. 

Officially. Completely. Done. 

Which was exactly why, when you stepped out of the hospital just after sunrise (the result of a last-minute night-shift swap) and spotted a familiar figure leaning against the hood of a dark truck across the street, your immediate reaction wasn’t relief but unequivocal annoyance. 

The city still looked half-asleep around you, pale morning light stretching across damp pavement while your exhausted coworkers shuffled toward their cars clutching coffee cups like lifelines. Your overnight shift had run disastrously long, leaving you tired enough that your thoughts felt wrapped in cotton. The added lack of a Jack Abbot didn’t do well to settle any wants of seeing the man again with your own two eyes. 

And standing there beneath the weak gold light of sunrise was yet another salt and pepper-curly-haired man with nice shoulders and light hazel eyes. 

Unbelievable.

You didn’t even break stride this time. 

“Nope,” you called out while crossing the sidewalk. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing this again. You can’t pay me enough.” 

The Jack-a-like straightened at the sound of your voice. 

You pointed at him warningly before he could speak. “I don’t care if you’re emotionally repressed, weirdly observant, secretly corrupt, or involved in a ritual sacrifice. I’m done talking to Jack Abbot doppelgangers.” 

A long silence followed before he said one word. 

“What?” 

You frowned at his voice and the way it felt familiar in your ears. None of the others had ever quite managed to get Jack’s timber down correctly. Your steps slowed, and the man pushed away from the truck fully now, confusion pulling at his features while dark circles sat heavily beneath his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. 

Your chest tightened achingly so, because that—that was Jack Abbot, actually Jack Abbot. 

Your Jack. 

For one horrible second, your brain refused to process it properly. After weeks of running into twisted reflections of him everywhere, seeing the real thing suddenly felt almost unreal itself. It made you suspicious. 

You scoffed at him. “Okay. Which one are you?” 

Jack stared at you with somehow even more confusion, your name coming out oddly through his lips. “Excuse me?” 

“The firefighter was flirty. The cop was emotionally stable. The quiet one stared at me like a sad shelter dog in one of those ASPCA commercials. The southern one was definitely corrupt. And the rich one threatened me with devil worship.” You pointed accusingly at him. “So what’s your thing, and please make it quick because I obviously need more than six hours of sleep.” 

Jack stared at you in complete silence. 

“. . . You met a rich version of me?” 

“You have no idea how bad this has gotten.” 

“Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” 

The utter bewilderment in his face finally settled something inside you, because none of the others had ever looked at you like that. 

Brett had looked entertained. 

Sammy had looked understanding. 

Adnrew had looked curious and quietly lonely. 

Terry had looked scheming. 

Titus had looked delighted with a new play thing. 

But Jack? 

Jack looked at you like he’d been waiting long enough out here for you to start getting worried, like seeing you finally emerge from the Pitt had made him relax just enough. Suddenly, it all clicked at once. 

“Oh.” 

Jack’s brow furrowed deeper. “What?” 

“You’re actually him.” 

“Yeah?” He sounded almost offended. “Who else would I be?” 

A helpless laugh escaped you before you could stop it as you visibly deflated, exhaustion and pure relief tangling together so suddenly it made your eyes sting. 

Jack took a step closer, your name falling from his chest. “Hey. You okay?” 

His immediate instinct to take care of you was what did it. It wasn’t his face or his voice or his tired eyes or broad shoulders or any of the things that the other had shared. His concern for your wellbeing that had seemingly been stitched directly into his bloodstream no matter how tired he got. Your throat tightened unexpectedly. 

Jack’s expression softened as he moved closer. “What happened?” 

“You happened,” you informed him weakly. 

“That really didn’t explain anything.” 

“It does in my head.” 

“Which is terrifying.” 

You laughed again softly, rubbing tiredly at your face before looking back up at him. Now that the real Jack stood in front of you, the differences felt almost embarrassingly obvious. Brett had been warm but too easygoing; Sammy had been grounding in a way that felt comforting but oddly distant; Andrew had carried gentleness around him so openly it hurt to look at; Terry had weaponized familiarity until it felt dangerous; and Titus had turned charm into performance art. 

But above all, Jack felt safe. 

Even as he was standing there exhausted and grumpy in front of you sleep-deprived with yesterday’s hoodie thrown over a wrinkled scrub top, something about him always made your world quiet enough to where it felt manageable, like you could get anything done without worrying about the next moment. 

You stared at him for a long moment before realizing he was still waiting for an explanation. So, unfortunately, your exhausted brain chose honest-to-God honesty. 

“You know what the worst part was?” you asked softly. 

Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’m scared to answer that.” 

“They all looked like you.” You voice quieted slightly. “But none of them were you.” You glanced away, trying to organize thoughts that had apparently been building for weeks now. “Brett was nice. Sammy was . . . easy to talk to. Andrew was sweet in this sad kind of way. Even the crazy rich one was weirdly funny.” You huffed out a tired laugh. “And every single time I kept thinking maybe that was why my brain kept confusing them for you.” 

He stayed quiet. 

“But each time, they failed horribly at being Jack Abbot for longer than a two-sentence introduction.” You looked back up at him with glassy eyes. “Because all they had was just your face. They didn’t have the way you make everything feel less awful when you walk into a room. They didn’t have the way you pay attention to people even when you pretend that you’re annoyed. They didn’t have the way I never have to wonder if I’m safe with you.” 

Jack looked caught off guard. 

“I kept meeting all these parallel versions of you,” you continued softly, exhaustion making everything spill easier than normal, “and every time something still felt missing.” Your mouth twitched faintly. “Turns out it was just . . . you.” 

He kept quiet for a long moment as the morning traffic hummed somewhere down the street while patients and employees alike trickled from the Pitt’s doors. You bit your bottom lip, waiting with anticipation for him to say something.  

Finally, very quietly, he spit out, “You compared me to a satanic billionaire before saying all that.” 

A tired giggled burst out so suddenly it nearly doubled you over. “You can’t believe how thankful I am that it’s actually you this time.” 

Jack shook his head slowly, but you caught the way his mouth softened slightly. “C’mere.” 

The words barely left his mouth before he was reaching for you, hand gripping your forearm lightly before pulling you forward against his chest with the kind of familiarity that made your entire body finally relax for the first time in days. 

That was another difference too. 

None of the others had ever felt like home. 

You buried your face against his chest with a tired groan. “If another man with your face talks to me this week, I’m filing a police report.” 

Jack’s chest shook slightly beneath your cheek. “Again me?” 

“Wouldn’t be entirely you,” you mumbled. “Just your face.” 

A quiet laugh rumbled through him before his hand settled against the back of your head. 

“C’mon,” he murmured. “I’m taking you home before you start hallucinating more versions of me.” 

You tilted your head back just enough to look up at him. “You promise you’re the real one?”

Jack stared down at you for one long second. 

“Did any of them kiss you?” 

A blooming warmth covered your face. “What?” 

“The firefighter,” he said evenly. “The cop. Satan guy.” His jaw tightened. “Did any of them kiss you?” 

“No,” you admitted quietly. “Wouldn’t let them either because they weren’t you.” 

His hand slid gently against your jaw before he kissed you like he’d been thinking about it the entire conversation. His lips felt warm; the kiss careful and tired in the same way you both were but all the same steady. 

When he finally pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, nose brushing along the skin right under his eye, you smiled weakly. 

“Okay,” you said softly out of breath. “Yeah. Definitely the real one.” 

Jack laughed quietly against your mouth. “Are you 100 percent sure?” 

You pretended to think for a second before shaking your head. “Nope. Gotta kiss you again just to be sure.” 

He smirked before pulling you back into another soft kiss. 

Oh, yeah. This was the real one.