All fics will be added as they are posted!! Please enjoy.
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Series, Oneshots and all Links Below the Cut
Link to a Masterlist for JUST characters played by Ryan Gosling:
Ryan Gosling Masterlist
˜”°•.˜”°• Series •°”˜.•°”˜
One Last Job
Summary:
After losing the title of New Captain America, John Walker has spent his days at the bottom of a bottle, hiding from a world that's practically forgotten about him. He intends to stay like that until a woman named Valentina appears in his apartment with a job, one last job. Hunt down a mutant running rampage in Europe, kill her and he's done, he can even have his old military title back and live life as the US Agent, a hero.
Alex Cross, the said mutant on the run, is just trying to get by and keep herself safe from the members of the fake HYDRA that created her. When she accidentally runs into John and the two get stuck together, literally, she'll realise that maybe he's her only hope to save the world and they're the world's most unlikely team.
Setting: Canon MCU, Pre-Thunderbolts, Thunderbolts and Beyond.
Type: Long Fic, 20 Chapters Posted, Over 110,000 Words
Status: Complete, fully published until Doomsday and Secret Wars.
Summary: When being in his own head causes him to get injured, Walker is unwilling to accept help or even admit he's been in his own head in the first place...until you come along.
Smut: None
Free Beer For a Year
Words: 4090
Pairing: John Walker X Reader
Summary: When you and John are left at the Watchtower boredom starts to set in, but when he tells you about a bar and a perfect game of darts for free beer for a year, you decide to go have some fun and turn a simple contest into a bet.
Smut: None
You, Me and The Wilderness
Words: 7086
Pairing: John Walker x Female Reader(Codename Artemis)
Summary: A covert OXE mission goes sideways when an OXE field agent, presumed loyal, turns rogue. The team scatters during the ambush, injured and in need of an evac. You (a former SHIELD agent hired on by Val at the request of your father) and John Walker are the only ones uninjured and within range to pursue the agent, when you get trapped in the Alaskan backcountry, nothing but a cabin and unrequited feelings to keep you company.
Smut: Yes, brief, not very descriptive.
Would You Love Me Then
Words: 6331
Pairing: John Walker X Female Reader
Summary: You and John hate each other and have for awhile, but when a routine mission to a HYDRA base goes horribly wrong and the John you hate is forever changed...there might be something more lingering beneath the surface. Something that could change everything.
Smut: None
˜”°•.˜”°• Series •°”˜.•°”˜
Silent as a Soldier
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Female OC
Words(So Far): 26,965/180,000 Planned
Summary:
Amelie Adler was only ten when she stumbled across James Buchanan Barnes in school. She was new in town and scared, worried about how the Americans would see a new German student in town but Bucky…he was different. He didn’t see the new German/American expat as a threat, but as a new friend who just so happened to share the same birthday as him. As they grow closer and invite a young and scared Steve Rogers into the tight knit group, Lee realises just how much she wants to keep Bucky in her life and how far she’ll go to do just that. But when war hits America in 1941 and Bucky enlists early into 1943, that plan is shattered and Lee worries she’ll never see the love of her life again. But when Steve offers her a spot to watch his transformation, Lee is dragged into a whole new life, following around Steve and seeing firsthand what happens when a good man goes to war.
As she sees firsthand what the Nazi’s can do and tries to embrace her messed up new powers, Lee tries her hardest the whole way to keep her and Bucky together, even when he gets lost along the way. But when the two of them find themselves just as lost and wrapped up in the very people that destroyed Lee’s life in the first place, it’ll take everything to keep them sane and keep them together. But despite it all, through prisons, torture and everything in between, one thing remains clear…That a falling star and a failed soldier…are destined to always crash land together.
Type: Longfic
Status: Ongoing, 1 chapter every few days.
Smut: Yes, chapters will be marked when it is included.
Chapters:
Part One Silent: Prologue and 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7
When the Earth began to die, people got desperate and their chance at a new life was called the Avengers Mission, a deep space exploration mission to a planet called Alderra, a goldilocks planet, the perfect in its system and hopefully a new home. But when it fails and you lose both your father and childhood best friend, everything changes and it changes further after a shocking discovery that proves the failed mission maybe wasn’t a failure. Now you’re forced to confront old fears and finally talk to the man in the bungalow in your back yard for sure he’s your best friend but at one point was also something more. Now forced together for a world saving mission, the two of you will have to learn to work together as the real stakes begin to become ever clearer and the true scope of one little radio call will mean the difference between a world saved and one doomed.
Type: Short fic.
Status: On hold for Christmas, back in 2026.
Smut: None, some will be added to future parts if they appear.
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6
˜”°•.˜”°• One Shots •°”˜.•°”˜
The Secret
Words: 2897
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Female Reader
Summary: When a mission goes horribly wrong and the team gets injured and the jet can't make it back, Bucky Barnes chooses to reveal a closely guarded secret he's keeping in upstate New York.
Smut: None
Somebody I Was Destined to Meet
Words: 8230
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Female Reader(codename Gemini)
Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn’t get you, how you’re so happy…all the time. He’s never been like that, never been all that happy or cheery and yet…you won’t stop. So when the two of you have to spend a week together on a long and drawn out mission, all this sunshine starts to infect him and he doesn’t like the man he’s becoming when you get too close. Happy, carefree and oh so horribly vulnerable.
Smut: Yes, implied only.
Let My Mind Go Quiet
Words: 8875
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Female Reader
Summary: You and Bucky fell in love when you agreed to help him come back to life in Wakanda, embarking on a life that never slowed down. But when it becomes too much and you separate you assume you'll never see him again. But when he appears one rainy evening outside your door, broken, bleeding and desperate...everything changes.
Smut: YES, 18+, mentioned and described, not in full detail.
Petrichor
Words: 3599
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader
Summary:
pet·ri·chor: /ˈpetrīˌkôr/ noun
--a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.
Smut: None.
When it Comes to Love
Words: 11,549
Pairing: Mafia Boss Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: As one of the NYPD’s best detectives, you expected to be assigned the newest case in your department, a string of thefts that target the darker crime syndicates of the city and they’re all being done by one man. But this so-called mafia boss, James Bucky Barnes is unlike anyone you’ve met and an undercover mission to dive deep into his family may be more of a puzzle than you could expect.
Smut: None.
3am
Words: 7583
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: When you can't sleep you end up on the roof of the Avengers Compound at 3am, you assume you'll be alone, until you find Bucky Barnes, escaping his own memories as well.
Smut: None.
Lighthouses
Words: 14,722
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Female Reader
Summary: For years, you have floated between jobs, keeping to yourself and not letting a lot of people in. But when an opportunity comes up as a caregiver for a reclusive ex soldier in a sleepy New England town, you take it. You're introduced to James Buchanan Barnes by his mother, and his big empty house, lack of personal connections and a disorder that's slowly killing him. You're hired to keep him comfortable, to make the last few months as simple as possible but what you find is a quiet you can't quite describe.
Smut: None.
Sidelined
Words: 17,992
Pairing: University Student Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: When you move back to your old hometown for the third year of University, you’re reintroduced to Steve Rogers, a childhood friend who drags to see his other best friend in the first hockey game of the season, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. When Bucky is severely injured during the game, his friends rotate caring for him but for some reason the person who he chooses to be around the most is you. With him out of commission for the whole season and horribly annoyed at life, you make it your goal to treat Bucky to a semester to remember and show him there’s more to life than winning…except when it comes to winning your heart.
Smut: None.
˜”°•.˜”°• The Romcom Series •°”˜.•°”˜
--All these fics are based on or inspired by modern day romcoms, all set in a Modern AU --
Plus One
Words: 10,918
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Female Reader
Summary: At the start of the summer event season, your asshole boyfriend dumps you, leaving you scrambling for a plus one and the only one available is Bucky Barnes. One of your oldest and best friends despite his dumb smirk and annoying grin. But as you two are surrounded by love and each other, maybe some buried feelings won't be so buried.
Smut: Yes, only implied.
Team Bonding
Words: 15,298
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Female Reader
Summary: Three years ago you took a job offer as a publisher for Fontaine Publishing and came face to face with James Bucky Barnes, annoying, cocky and the worlds biggest womanizer. After butting heads since, your boss Valentina De Fontaine has had enough and she organizes a nine day long Mexico cruise as a kind of team bonding. But when you and Bucky keep getting shoved together, years of unresolved emotions will come to a head and maybe some long buried feelings will come to the surface.
Smut: None.
Eternity
Pairing: Husband Bucky X Reader, slight Steve X Reader
Words: 10,353
Summary: When you unexpectedly die and end up in a middle ground between the afterlife and not, you're ecstatic to find your husband of 65 years, Bucky, waiting patiently. But there's a slight catch to the eternity you're about to share with each other. Way back when you were young and 20, you married a man named Steve Rogers, promised him the world and watched as he went off to war and died long before you could both celebrate forever. Now you have a choice, one eternity over the other, one dead husband over another and 65 years versus a life you never got to live. But as the two men try to convince you they both have their own reasons for being the one you're torn between life and love. But maybe looking back, seeing it all again, seeing what you had and what's still to come will make the choice a little easier. It's not like it's forever on the line...right?
Smut: None.
˜”°•.˜”°• Series •°”˜.•°”˜
Coming soon....
˜”°•.˜”°• One Shots •°”˜.•°”˜
It Begs to Stick Around -- Part One
Pairing: Frank Langdon X Female Reader
Words: 11,387
Summary: You are Robby's surrogate daughter(actual niece) and an overworked PhD student who's desperate to finish her thesis. When you crash and end up in the ER at PTMC after a handful of bad choices, things get interesting. Robby is brought back to the day he couldn't save your mother and you come face to face with Frank Langdon, so called ER Ken and a man you can't help but be intrigued by. But he's hiding a secret and one hectic day of emergency medicine will reveal it all and maybe even shatter a relationship you hoped might last.
Smut: None(check the warnings on the fic)
Part Two
Pairing: Dr. Frank Langdon X Female Reader(last name Harper and your nickname)
Words: 13,012
Summary: Four months after the worst day of your life and you haven't heard from Langdon, haven't even tried. But when you run into him at rehab and realize he's there to make things better, your heart starts to soften as his resolve breaks and you see the man hidden beneath someone who thought they had it all.
Smut: None(check the warnings on the fic)
˜”°•.˜”°• Christmas 2025 •°”˜.•°”˜
Every Wish Come True
Pairing: John Walker X Female Reader
Words: 11,223
Summary: You have worked your butt off at your job for years, trying to make a name for yourself, but your boss, a brooding man named Lenny, has other ideas. When he gives you an assignment for the holiday season to convince the owner of a small town Christmas tree farm in Holly Grove, New York to sell, things get interesting to say the least. Owned by a singular family and now managed by the tall, blonde, flannel wearing youngest son of the last generation. He's unwilling to let someone in after so much heartbreak and you're unwilling to see the true spirit of the season. But maybe your wish can come true, underneath the white blanketed pines of the cutest little Christmas tree farm.
˜”°•.˜”°• Misc. Characters •°”˜.•°”˜
Is That Me?
Words: 2700
Pairing: Bob Reynolds X Yelena Belova
Summary: When Bob falls asleep with his sketchbook in his lap, Yelena Belova realises the teams newest member is observant, always watching and loves to sketch a certain muse, her.
Smut: None.
Wake Me Up
Pairing: Bob Reynolds X Female Reader
Summary: When Bob Reynolds, Thunderbolts seventh member is left alone with just you in the Watchtower he decides to play a game. One that comes highly recommended called Before Your Eyes. But when the game gets a bit too real and he starts to spiral, you're there to offer comfort, a hand in the dark and a reminder that not everything is as fragile as he thinks. But maybe all you need is each other, someone who gets it, more than anyone has before.
Smut: None.
Never Growing Up
Pairing: Rockstar Eddie Munson X Singer Female Reader
Words: 8179
Summary: 4 years ago, Eddie Munson left Hawkins to pursue his dream in LA, leaving the small town and you, his high school sweetheart and first love behind. You never forgave him and after getting your own break your annoyed to learn his label and yours have planned a benefit in town and your the headliners. Now forced back together you'll have to get through the weekend without letting all the pent up feelings get in the way.
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Summary: For years you’ve been the stunt double of your uber famous twin sister Molly, she’s the face and you’re the body who just so happens to get thrown out of a lot of windows. When she ends up getting a scene partner in the annoying as all hell star, Notch Carter, you are reintroduced to his stuntman, Colt Seavers, an ex-thing from too many years ago. It gets even more complicated when after a cast party you find Molly dead in bed in her hotel room and the worst part, there’s a note on her arm telling her to worry which means they were after you. The life of stunt people seems to be getting more and more complicated and now you and Colt have to deal with another maybe murder plot and get real close in proximity as feelings and fears begin to get in the way.
Warnings: Murder mentioned and described, along with drugging, swears throughout.
Tags: Colt Seavers, stuntperson reader x stuntman Colt, you have a twin named Molly, movie set, movies, murder and solving it, fluff, angst, Colt is a Swiftie, old friends and loves, unrequited feelings and missed connections, he and Jody broke up(sorry).
Notes: This took months LOL. At least three of em but it's here and while it's not my favourite, I like it enough to post it. I do love Colt though, he's one of the best looking Ryan's. Look out for either Lars or K next!! Dividers by @uzmacchiato
Against All Odds
“Take a good look at me now. 'Cause I'll still be standin' here. And you comin' back to me is against all odds. It's the chance I've gotta take.”
Getting thrown out of a window was a regular Tuesday occurrence in your world and you weren’t surprised when you arrived on set and that was the stunt for the day. Crash through a window, fall a couple stories and land back first on a large pad, cushioned and safe like always. It had been your day to day for almost five years and the stunts and dangerous activities had only gotten more elaborate the more parts your twin sister, Molly, took on.
She was the actress, the face, the one who said the lines and held a gun wrong and still got to attend the premiere in fancy dresses while you watched from a two bedroom apartment in LA. But you didn’t mind, she was the better actress between the two of you and always had been since as a kid you were too busy jumping out of trees to learn how to master being in front of the camera. You were born for stunt work and were happy to use it to give Molly her big break since her first film needed a stunt double and you just so happened to have her face and the skills.
“Cut! Excellent work people!”
“Are you good, sweetheart?” Joe, your stunt coordinator asked, and you gave him a thumbs up, rolling off the pad and landing on the street on two feet. “That was amazing.”
“Thank you, I’ve done it a hundred times,” you said and pulled off the leather jacket Molly was wearing for the scene and handed it over, stretching to work out some kinks in your neck.
“This is why they always hire you, you’re the best,” Joe added and you nodded, smiling and walking over to a snack table just off set.
The movie was some kind of spy drama about Molly’s character, a woman named Elle and her having to take over the family business after her husband is killed on a mission in Italy. It was all action, all stunts and exactly the kind of film you were perfect for, telling her to take it before she even finished reading the full script. It was a shoot that was taking place in Milan as well and while it was hot as hell and you wouldn’t stop sweating you were still living the dream. Well….
“OH MY GOD!”
“Hello to you too,” you said and placed a hand over your mug of coffee to keep it from spilling since Molly had always been loud and she scared you.
“Sorry. The worst thing has just happened,” she said and wandered over to a series of tables and took a seat, dressed in the same outfit as you which made it even more obvious you were identical.
“What happened, did Olivia Rodrigo unfollow you again.”
“No…the second worst thing.”
“She changed the purple she uses on her merch?”
“That was one time and Liv admitted to being wrong,” she said and you nodded, remembering the fiasco. “No…Damon has decided to give me a scene partner for like the entirety of the movie. He wants to bring in my dead husband's brother and have him be this guiding light or some bullshit.”
“So you won’t be the only star?”
“No…they’ve reworked half the script and apparently this is what people want, a misguided partnership between two people who clearly have tension and I’m pretty sure they’re going to have some kind of tryst by the end of the movie.”
“With your dead husband’s brother?”
“Also her first love,” Molly said and sighed, grabbing your coffee and taking sips as you let her.
“Wow…that is…interesting. Who’s the writer on this?”
“I don’t know…she also wrote Honeymoon. Wendy something.”
“The other brother romance,” you said and she nodded. “She has a type.”
“That’s not even the worst part because I’m fine with a brother romance, romance of any kind is quite fun but the worst part is the actor they chose.”
“Who?”
“Notch Carter,” she said and your jaw dropped since you had heard about him before and his exploits on so many sets before this one. “He apparently got dropped from this other movie he was doing and needed a job and is good friends with Damon so here he is, ruining my movie.”
“Who’s doing his stunts?” you asked and she eyed you.
“What?”
“Stunts, who did they get for Notch’s stunts.”
“I don’t know…I care more about them hiring an actor who half of Hollywood calls Crotch Carter. Did you know that? Crotch?”
“I did not,” you admitted and glanced up just as the director walked by, a stern look on his face like always. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sis! Hey!”
“Good luck,” you said and ran off, catching Damon before he could walk into his trailer and tapping him on the shoulder as the guy turned, raising a very trimmed brow.
“Yes?”
“Damon…”
“No…Damon,” he replied and said the same name but with a much more obnoxious French accent and you rolled your eyes.
“Anyways…I was told by Molly that you are giving her a scene partner.”
“We are…Notch Carter…he’s the big guy around town and we need big to make this work since no one was going to see a female spy movie and Wendy made that clear.”
“That is great…not great…but great for you I guess and a horrible backwards plan for women but who is doing Notch’s stunts? He needs a double right.”
“Of course, he always needs a double and has been rolling with this new guy, got accused of murder a year ago but I think that was all fake and got blown up in a stunt.”
“Who?”
“Colt Seavers,” he said and your eyes widened.
“Thank you, Damon.”
“Damon,” he shot back and stepped into his trailer as you ran a hand down your face, wishing he would have said any name but that one.
“All good,” you called and gave the door a thumbs up, before spinning around and right into a very broad chest. “Oh…sorry.”
“No…sorry to you,” the man said and you glanced up to find your sister's annoying scene partner standing in front of you. “Notch Carter.”
“I know who you are.”
“Of course you do…uh,” he muttered and you told him your name as his eyes narrowed at the last name. “Are you Molly’s sister?”
“Twin,” you said and nodded to her since she was still drinking your coffee and talking with a woman you didn’t recognize.
“Yes, she’s talking to Stacy, my beautiful girlfriend and model who is here to support me on this wonderful film.”
“A film that Molly was supposed to be the star of,” you muttered and he eyed you.
“I am going to make it bigger.”
“Sure,” you said and he gave your shoulder a pat as you frowned.
“We have a cast party after the shoot today to welcome me in, make sure to join and bring Molly.”
“The star,” you said and he nodded, smiling bright and walking over to his model girlfriend as you rolled your eyes.
You grabbed a PA who handed over a call sheet and sure enough Notch was listed with his stunt double, the one and only Colt Seavers who you knew and wished you didn’t. Colt had been in the business almost as long as you had and you crossed paths years back doing a stunt class at an arts college outside LA. He was charming to say the least, all jokes and old movie references and the moment had resulted in a night that you both regretted and did again and again. When he moved around too much for a variety of movies and met a camera operator and budding director named Jody you assumed it was done, all those pent up feelings were nothing but that, unresolved and forgotten.
But three months ago he revealed that Jody and he didn’t work out, she was filming a hit movie in Paris and he was doing boat stunts in Florida and on a weekend off you met mostly in the middle at your rundown apartment in LA. It was a night full of regrets and unresolved feelings that weren’t so unresolved and now Colt was in Milan, shooting on your dream movie and it was going to make everything a whole lot more complicated.
“God…Notch is an asshole.”
“Don’t you mean Crotch?” you asked and Molly chuckled.
“God yes and that girlfriend of his might be worse, I think that her head is air.”
“She’s a model.”
“She also wants to be an actress, got a small part in this film, Notch asked for it.”
“Great…so much for a dream movie.”
“He also mentioned his stuntman, Colt Seavers,” she said and smiled. “You know him. He’s the guy you spent the weekend with back in April…hmmm?”
“Yes…he’s that Colt,” you muttered and hated to call it a weekend, sure it was a few days but on Sunday he left, bolted before you could even say goodbye and it hurt all over again.
“Wow…what a small world. What are you going to do?”
“Avoid him,” you muttered and she rolled her eyes.
“This movie now has romance, maybe you need some as well.”
“There is no way in hell I am turning your big movie into some wild and crazy summer romance,” you said and walked off to change and get ready for that dumb crew party.
“Sure you are!”
“Life isn’t a movie, Molly.”
“Yeah but you're surrounded by them,” she called and you chuckled, slipping into a trailer and knowing she was right, you definitely were surrounded by the movies.
And your life was about to become anything but a good one.
The cast and crew had gathered at a restaurant not far off the set with an expensive menu and a rooftop deck that overlooked the nice part of town and to say you were done with it was an understatement. Call it a stunt person trope or maybe you just hated parties but rooms full of people trying to talk over music they know is too loud was not your definition of a good time, it was a bad time and like always you were in the corner, bobbing your head to that loud ass music and hoping Molly would get tired and head home so you could have an excuse to leave. But she was dancing in the middle of all the people pleasers, a tequila sunrise in hand and the biggest smile on her face and you sighed, knowing it would be a while before you could sleep. You also spotted Notch across the way with an arm draped across the shoulder of his actress girlfriend as he smoked a cigarette and blew the smoke in her face every couple seconds. You rolled your eyes and were about to search for a second beer when the music shifted, getting a bit slower and you groaned as a song you loathed started to play through the speakers and the dance floor got slower, more intimate.
You can hear it in the silence, silence, you
You can feel it on the way home, way home, you
You can see it with the lights out, lights out
“God…it’s always Taylor.”
“She is the soundtrack of my sadness,” you muttered and the guy chuckled as your eyes narrowed since the noise sounded familiar, almost comforting.
You slowly turned and spotted his hair, still sporting a bit of blonde tips from his Tom Ryder days as Colt Seavers stood next to you, beer in hand and an easy smile on his face as he mouthed some of the lyrics, really getting into it.
“And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars,” he sang and you eyed him. “And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words…Come on sweetheart, put it into words.”
“No.”
“More words than that,” he muttered and you rolled your eyes, about ready to walk away but he grabbed your arm. “Hey…I’m sorry. It’s good to see you, it's been too long.”
“It’s been three months,” you deadpanned and he chuckled, rubbing his neck.
“Dare I say that’s too long.”
“Don’t be charming,” you said and pushed past him, going over to the bar and grabbing another beer as he followed and grabbed his own, sticking close to your side like mold. “Colt…”
“What?”
“You’re following me.”
“Is it a crime to want to catch up?”
“Yes,” you said and he frowned.
“Come on, we know each other, we get each other and I hate where we ended and how it all went down…”
“I was a weekend fling,” you shot back and he frowned. “Jody broke your heart so you found me in LA and I just so happened to be single, sad and too drunk to think straight. If I was any smarter that weekend would’ve never happened.”
“But are you mad it did?” he asked and you stopped, jaw ajar and didn’t know how to answer that.
Sure he used you as a good time after he and Jody broke up since she wanted someone more mature and he kept picking movies for how fun the stunts looked and not the quality of the production like she wanted. They were going to be a dynamic duo, director and stunt coordinator, working in tandem to make the best of the best but it just never happened the way either of them wanted and he ended up alone, sad and in LA. You were also in LA, sad and just as alone and when Colt knocked on your door you let him in, you let him kiss you and you even let him have a good time in your bed when you knew it was nothing but a bad idea. Maybe you also enjoyed your time, liked the way he made you feel and had kept your feelings locked inside since you met him years ago at a stunt class in Hollywood, got lost in his charms. But now he was a nuisance and you were half tempted to shove him off the rooftop balcony where there was no safety mat to catch him.
“Oh my god…Colt Seavers!”
You both turned as a very drunk Molly wandered over, her heels in one hand and a smile on her face as she wrapped you in a hug, hanging off your shoulders with a smile on her face. She smelled like vodka and you hoped that after annoying you, she’d go to bed and you’d finally have an excuse to leave and get some sleep for the early calltime tomorrow. But Molly had also been good at the whole party aspect of Hollywood and she had been known to get sloshed at one too many Variety Oscar parties over the years. They had stopped inviting her to the after party and so you were forced to watch as she cried over the results while a few too many sips into a bottle of 1000 dollar Vodka.
“Colty…I hear so much about you,” Molly said and moved away from you to wrap him in a hug as his eyes widened. “She won’t stop talking about you ever since April. This whole movie has been nothing but…Colt would like Milan, that church would be cool for Colt to see, oh Colt loves the heat. It’s annoying.”
“All about me?”
“No,” you shot back and moved so he wouldn’t see the blush on your cheeks.
“Yes,” Molly assured and you wanted to strangle her. “She was so obsessed, I almost didn’t invite her to this shoot since she mentioned wanting to run off to Florida, find you and see if you would apologise for ruining your perfect weekend and maybe make it better…but then I got this job.”
You wanted to punch Molly, or throw her off the rooftop since that was going to be a secret and so what if you had a bag packed and a flight to Florida saved in a separate tab and were only hours away from going after Colt and getting him back, making up for your mistakes. You stopped after you got the call about this movie, the big break Molly had always wanted and a chance to showcase your skills on the world stage. It was something you couldn’t pass up and you sent her the audition call, she got the job and off to Milan you went and had been there close to six weeks, a silent regret hanging in the background. Well it was silent until Molly and her Vodka brain assumed Colt would love to know all about it.
“Anywho…I go now…more dancing,” she said and sauntered off as you stood there, rubbing the back of your neck and knowing she had definitely just changed the dynamic.
“Was she just drunk or…”
“I almost went,” you admitted and his eyes widened. “But then this job hit my inbox and it was either her or you and I chose her.”
“I thought you hated each other.”
“We had for years before this gig but she had wanted to be a star in her own movie since she started and Damon wanted that, a star who had never gotten the chance and Molly and her twin stunt double was perfect. Maybe I was also being a bit selfish and assumed that getting her the job of her dreams would get what we had back as well.”
It was true, you and Molly had a falling out years back after you refused to do a movie with her and she got fired because they couldn’t find a suitable match to be her stunt double. Ever since you had been a bit strained, only meeting on sets and then she would head back to her penthouse in downtown LA and you would return to the two bedroom on the outskirts, teaching martial arts classes on the weekends. This movie was a chance to hang out after shooting was finished and get back a bit of the sisterhood you had been missing since the last time it felt like you were family was college and that was a while ago.
“I get it…wanting to do it for family. I did a lot for my mom when she was alive, every stunt in every movie was for her.”
“I still wish the timing was better.”
“Then you would’ve ended up in Florida?” he asked and you shrugged, not really knowing how to give him an answer. “I get it.”
“Colt…”
“SEAVERS!”
You both turned as Notch walked over with his girlfriend Stacy hanging off his arm and dressed much like him in very little clothes, really only a bikini top and a mini skirt as he sported an open button down and shorts that were an inch too short. He wrapped an arm around Colt’s shoulders, basically using him to keep standing up straight which was a weird sight since Notch was a few inches shorter and struggling to even keep himself attached to Colt’s side. Much like Molly the two were pretty much wasted and Notch was smiling, showing off his perfect teeth minus one bit of gold in the far corner because despite his attempts, nobody was perfect.
“Hello.”
“How are you man?”
“Just catching up.”
“Yes, we ran into each other earlier and I told this little minx to make sure she is here.”
“Minx?” you asked and he dismissed you.
“This guy, Colt Seavers, is my saving grace. He got the job on this insane TV show out in Florida and nailed it. I couldn’t imagine having to toss myself off a boat or drive through a window.”
“It’s toss yourself through a window and drive a boat,” Colt muttered and got dismissed as you rolled your eyes.
“Whatever hot shot and now…My beautiful Stacy gets to enjoy the limelight like me. She got a part.”
“I heard,” you said and smiled at Stacy.
“I’m just happy to be here,” she admitted and chuckled. “Being on this set is a huge honour and meeting the two of you and being able to really get to know the people that make movies like this possible.”
“The actors play a much bigger role,” you said and Colt nodded in agreement.
“Yeah but they need you guys, stunt doubles and fall guys and girls to keep them safe. It’s a huge part of the behind the scenes.”
“Well, thank you, it means a lot,” Colt said and she wrapped him in a hug before doing the same to you as Notch just scoffed.
“Movies also need actors. You losers would be unemployed with people like me,” he said and smiled as if that was the funniest thing in the world before glancing down at his designer shoes and frowning. “Colt…do you mind?”
“Why not,” Colt muttered and stooped down, tying the shoes as Notch grinned and punched his shoulder the second he stood, a grin on his face.
“I’d be dead without this guy!” he said and walked off as Stacy thanked us both again before trailing after him.
“I hate him.”
“Is he better or worse than Tom Ryder?”
“Worse, Tom tried to kill me.”
“I saw that. You escaped by doing the Miami Vice stunt…the boat.”
“That I did and it worked and it was cool.”
“The basis of everything we do,” you said and clinked your beer bottle against his. “Well…I should go make sure that Molly actually pulled off her clothes and got into bed rather than sleeping on top of it.”
“Is she in a trailer?”
“No, she has a room on the 6th floor of the hotel next door,” you said and nodded to it, grateful the crew party was always held at the club next door. “She usually wanders back and passes out right in front of her door so I need to make sure she doesn't sleep in another hallway.”
“Do you need any help?”
“No, I’m good,” you assured and dropped your bottle on the table as Colt followed you down the stairs and over to the front door of the club. “It’s good to see you.”
“We should hang out, away from the set and where we can reconnect.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” you assured and wrapped him in a hug as he held on a little tighter than everyone else and you smiled before heading next door.
You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you headed up to the sixth floor and were pleased to see that Molly was not in the hallway, passed out against the wall and had made it inside her room. You had a spare key, a request from her and slipped it into the lock since the place still wasn’t digital before slipping open the door and spotting her sleeping form on the bed.
“You made it into bed,” you said and slipped off your shoes, converse not heels since you were smart and didn’t like sore feet. “Colt is a sweetheart like always. I might have missed him and regretted not going to Florida and thanks to you he knows about that, I was hoping to keep it a secret but you’re a talker when you’re drunk. And not normally a light sleeper.”
You flicked on the light, wondering why she hadn’t replied and stepped further into the room, eyes widening and you cried out at the mess in the bed, Molly motionless and sitting in a puddle of her own blood. It looked as though someone had slit her throat and it had happened a while back since her eyes were glassy, staring at the ceiling since she had been dead for a while and even if you tried, there was no hope, she was gone. You and her didn’t get along outside of sets, you never had but you never wanted to see her die and not like that, murder was never wished upon anyone and especially not your own twin. You moved and sat on a chair across from the bed, heart pounding and half debated calling Colt since he had dealt with death on set before and for him it worked out, he caught the guy and got the girl. Sure he eventually lost the girl and she took his dog but that was besides the point, he was smart and could handle it.
“Holy shit.”
You turned and sure enough Colt had followed and you didn’t have time to think it was sweet that he bothered since the guy's eyes were wide and he wouldn’t stop looking at Molly.
“Colt…”
“I…”
“It wasn’t me,” you said and he turned to you.
“I didn’t think that, not for one second.”
“Good…I just walked in and found her like that…she’s dead.”
“How?”
“Slit throat,” you muttered and couldn’t look at her as he walked over to just make sure and cursed when he felt no pulse on her wrist, slamming his fist on the bed. “They’re going to blame me. I was here last and I’m her twin, of course it was me.”
“No…we’re going to find who did this and make them pay for it.”
“Colt…”
“I’m serious. You’re with me and we should start by looking for clues,” he said and walked off to search the room as you smiled despite yourself.
You had to guess he didn’t expect to be involved in two murders during his career as a stuntman but danger seemed to follow him in both life and his job. But Colt was handling it better than you expected and he combed the room with a certain carefulness, like he was worried about disturbing what was left of Molly. He knew about her, you rambled about your sister a lot when the two of you ended up together and would complain about her more than anything. How she chose bad roles and drank too much and needed to stop expecting you to act like every other person in Hollywood. You never cared about fame or fortune or being the best in the best movie, you did stunts for the adrenaline rush and pure love of the job. But now more than ever you wished that you went to at least one more party, gave her a small bit more attention and really embraced what you and her had.
“Find anything?” You asked and looked back as he shook his head. “I think there might be something written here.”
“Can you read it?”
“Too covered in blood,” you said and ignored the way your heart sank as he dipped into the bathroom and returned with a wet towel. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he assured and you wiped the blood and other bits off her arm, seeing that you were correct and someone wrote a message. “What is it?”
“It says: Molly, let this be a warning, watch your back before someone stabs it.”
“Molly?” He asked and you nodded. “Why would they write a warning to Molly on a dead Molly.”
“It doesn't sound logical,” you muttered and were about to chuckle at the absurdity of it when your stomach dropped.
“What?”
“It would only make sense if they didn't mean Molly. They were warning her to watch her back as if she was going to be the one to find the body. But she couldn't…unless she wasn't the target.”
“And it was someone who looked exactly like her,” Colt deadpanned and you nodded.
“Someone like her twin sister,” you added and sighed since it meant Molly was never meant to die, it was you, you were the target.
“They got the wrong fucking twin.”
“You got that right,” you said and plopped onto the other queen bed, eyeing your dead sister as your brain tried to catch up, to make sense of all of it.
“We should go to the cops.”
“Why?”
“Because if you're alive and Molly is not, they could still come after you and that note is proof you didn't do this.”
“They'd still swing it against me, they would and you know it. We can't rely on cops for this, we're on our own.”
“No way in hell am I letting you go out there when people want to kill you.”
“Colt, I'm not a baby, I can handle myself and I need to find out who did this and why.”
“Back with Tom Ryder and that whole fiasco I almost died,” he began and you looked at him, saw his mouth set in a hard line and the way he wouldn't really look at you. “I managed to get out of it fine, I was okay but I almost wasn't, had to fake my death just to keep him from killing me and if these people are as bad as Tom…” He trailed off and wandered over, sitting down next to you with a heavy sigh and grabbing your hand. “I'm not gonna sit around as you walk out there with a target on your back.”
“Colt…don't,” you shot back and stood, dropping his hand as he frowned. “Don't act like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you care.”
“I do care.”
“You didn't care six months ago,” you shot back and he frowned. “You left me sitting in my bed, cold because you bolted in the middle of night like some kind of coward, too scared to confront his real feelings.”
“Weren't you going to follow?”
“I don't see how that's relevant.”
“It's relevant because you didn't and maybe you're also a coward,” he shot back and you were about ready to throw hands and prove how annoyed you were when there was a knock at the door.
“God that’s probably housekeeping, maybe they are here to clean up this mess and arrest me.”
“No…I doubt that,” Colt muttered and moved over to the door, looking through the small peephole near the top of it before he jumped back.
“Colt?”
“Guys…guys with guns!” he said and your eyes widened just as your guests started shooting up the door and he jumped, getting behind the bed in seconds and pulling you down with him.
“Colt…what the fuck do we do?”
“Window.”
“Are you insane?”
“You’re a stunt person like I am, pretend there’s a camera on us.”
“Yeah but we normally have a mat!” you shouted but he ignored it and bolted over to the window, getting it open in record time and stepping out onto what was probably the most rickety fire escape on the planet.
“Do you trust me?” he asked and you hesitated, standing just inside the window and not knowing if you should, if you should put your faith in someone who had broken your trust one too many times.
“Why not,” you said and hopped out onto the fire escape as it shuddered from the extra weight but held its own and Colt slowly made his way down the steps, making it to the bottom in record time. “How far is that jump?”
“Five, maybe six feet,” he said and you swallowed hard as he went for it, landing and rolling to his feet, rolling out his shoulders. “Coming?”
“Give me a second,” you muttered and wrung out your hands, scared to say the least but your pursuers had made it inside, you could hear the shuffling and knew an open window was a pretty good indicator of what the plan was.
You breathed in deep, remembering training from a while back about how to land in such a way where nothing broke, the impact didn’t cause you to die and you could actually walk away from a bit of tumble. Sure five or six feet wasn’t the highest jump on the planet but there was always the worry about breaking something and with some hesitation, you jumped, doing the same roll Colt did and ending up on your own two feet and safe and sound. He reached over, patted your shoulders and made sure you were okay before you gave him a nod, shaken but alright and followed him deeper into the city of Milan.
“We need to find somewhere to lay low, maybe a budget hotel on the outside of the city.”
“Have one in mind?”
“There’s a motel for about 20 euros right on the outskirts of the main part of the city, it should work.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted and ducked down an alley as you ran a hand through your hair, unsure if this was worth it but Molly’s killer was still out there, still was someone who wanted you dead and the thought propelled you forward, despite it all.
The motel on Colt’s mind was shady to say the least, in a part of town that no one bothered to keep up and full of streets littered in trash and bodies like that entire part of Milan had just been forgotten. But when you asked for a bed they had one and it was cheap, less than the 50 euros you had in your wallet and the front desk assured the room had two queens and looked out onto the nice side of the road. Only one of those facts was true.
“God dammit,” you muttered and looked at the singular queen bed and the view of a nice looking church out the window.
“I can ask the desk for a new room?” Colt said and moved to the front door but you stopped him.
“It’s fine,” you muttered and closed the curtains before flopping back onto the bed with a heavy sigh, the weight of the day coming over you.
“Are you sure?” Colt asked and sat next to you, weighing down the bed and you sighed, sitting up and running a hand down your face, finally willing to feel all that had been ignored in the last hour or so.
As much as you wanted to close your eyes and assume this whole thing was a dream, Molly was really dead, she was gone and after so many years of never seeing eye to eye she was gone before you could forgive each other. The movie was supposed to be a fresh start and you had spent half of the shoot arguing about how her career was going and what came next. Molly wanted to slow down and got mad when you claimed she was entering the best part of her career and the role would open up so many new roles and opportunities. But she wanted to slow down after nearly sixteen years in the business and was mad that you didn’t and sure the last few days had been good, they’d been cordial but you fought a week back and the words shared were echoing inside your head.
“This is my career as well Molly!! You are ruining my life as much as your own.”
“Maybe if you actually were the face you wouldn’t need me. You’re only here because of me and if I want to stop, you’re shit outta luck. Go fall out of windows for someone else.”
“Doing this was the biggest mistake, I never should have hinged my career on you.”
“I didn’t ask you to!”
But she did, she did ask you to hinge your career on her and desperately needed someone to act as her stunt double on a movie she shot years back, the first big break of her career. Molly needed a stunt double and you had the background for it and looked exactly like her, it was a win-win situation and the first breakthrough of both your careers. She had spent her time doing small roles and you had spent it on TV sets for little pay, mastering your craft at the expense of your sanity and needed Molly to make that break happen, make all of this happen. Her dying was an end to that, an end to your shared career and also an end to ever telling her you were sorry for being an asshole, for letting frivolous things get in the way.
“Sweetheart?” Colt asked and slid closer since you could feel the tears pooling before they fell.
“I’m fine,” you said and stood, moving the curtain and staring out the window at that damn church.
“You don’t have to be fine. We’re safe here for the most part and your sister just died.”
You hated the way your heart sank at the mention of Molly being dead even though it was true, she was and Colt was right and forgetting about her was the wrong way to deal with it. You turned to him as he pulled off the leather jacket he had on and dropped it on the chair, running a hand through his hair that still had the lingering effects of having blonde tips when he worked with Tom. Colt had aged in the time since you last got a good look at him and sure it was three months ago but that was primarily in the dark and a drunken haze and it felt really like years since you sat and looked at him. He wasn’t the same guy you kept running into in Hollywood at classes and small movie sets and TV shows with horrible plots that just needed some stunts to add some flair. He looked older, lines etched in his face and when you walked over and sat on the bed and he followed you could spot the callouses on his fingers and scars on his arms, years of stunt work coming back in carvings.
“Sweetheart,” he started and slid closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and you let him, feeling tears start to force themselves out. “It’s okay.”
“I’m…” you began and could feel all the adrenaline of the last few hours leave your body as your shoulders slumped and you finally let yourself feel everything, admit that it was all true and Molly really was dead.
“Let it out…I get it…I know what it means to lose someone in a way you don’t expect,” Colt muttered and you buried your head in his chest, feeling him wrap his arms tighter around you, so tight it was almost like a weighted blanket, keeping you grounded.
“How so?” you asked and looked up at him, at his chin covered in stubble and a small scar off to the left.
“I was raised by a single mother in Florida and while she was struggling to pay the bills, I was jumping out of trees and making her stress over me. When I was seventeen she got sick, really sick and we didn’t have money for a doctor so she just got sicker and I woke up and she was gone. I was a month away from my 18th birthday so the lady that came by to check on me just ignored it and I lived in that small ass house for a couple years before I got the Miami Vice job.”
“Just like that?”
“She had an infection that never got treated and died in her sleep. She was also a drinker so…I’m sure that was a factor but it was a lot, all at once and murder is different but I get it…I get what it feels like.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course,” he assured and you pulled back, letting out a yawn as he chuckled and grabbed a pillow. “We need to head back to set, see if there’s clues in Molly’s trailer, something she left behind that could point us in the right direction.”
“Yeah…but we also have to be careful, we never know who’s looking at us, who’s waiting in the shadows to do something to us.”
“I’ve been in this position before, I know what it feels like to look over your shoulder.”
“Ah yes, your Tom Ryder incident.”
“Hey…I died.”
“And came back, congrats,” you said and he chuckled, pulling off a secondary blanket and wrapping himself up on the floor. “What are you doing?”
“Taking the floor, did you notice there's one bed and no couch.”
“You just jumped out of a window after being chased by goons, share the bed with me,” you said and his eyes widened as he stood back up.
“Are you sure?”
“Why not?” You said and smiled, slipping off your beat up leather coat and sliding under the blanket before shimmying out of your jeans. “Ignore the no pants part of the occasion.”
“This is just the regular no pants, not the fun kind,” he shot back and slipped out of his own jeans and even his shirt before sliding under the covers next to you. “This isn't too far?”
“It's just a night Colt.”
“A night can change a lot,” he shot back and you felt yourself blush, turning away from him and trying desperately to ignore the heat radiating off his body.
“We're not back in LA, drunk and looking for an escape.”
“You know…I'm sorry.”
“For?”
“Leaving like I did…I woke up in the middle of the night and you were sprawled out and I knew that if I didn't leave then, I never would.”
“So you chose to leave,” you said and he nodded. “And I chose to run away.”
“You were going to follow me.”
“Yeah…I was…but then the email for this job hit my inbox that morning and I thought of Molly, thought of how much she wanted a role like this and I couldn't do it. I believed she'd get it and I needed to be close in case she did.”
“Say Molly didn't get the role…”
“Yeah…I would've called,” you muttered and rolled away from him, feeling the bed shift as he chuckled.
“I would've answered,” Colt said and sighed deeply, his snores filling the room shortly after as you sunk deeper into the bed.
“I would've ran all the way back,” you whispered and knew it was the truth, it always had been and maybe if you ended up with Colt then Molly would still be alive.
But now you were with him anyways and she was dead and you had to figure who did it and why before everything came crashing down. And also ignore the way you liked to listen to him breathe in his sleep, the gentle snores and how peaceful he looked when you turned back around. You missed Colt, more than words and were grateful he was there to lend a shoulder and a smile when you needed it most.
The set was calmer than you thought it would be with everyone going about their business, not caring that their main star was dead which likely meant she hadn’t been found. The men with guns had to be on the side of whoever did it and made sure you were dealt with and likely the body as well which meant Molly was somewhere unknown. You didn’t let that thought get to you and wandered closer to her trailer as Colt stayed behind, acting as a lookout just in case someone got too close who looked too interested in the both of you. The guys with the guns back at the hotel had shook you up, made you realise how close you had been since those killers weren’t after Molly, they had you on their mind. But you couldn’t worry about death at the moment, there was a lot more going on and you were steps from her trailer door when an old face stopped you.
“There you are!”
“Damon?” you asked and he sighed.
“Damon,” he repeated and you rolled your eyes as he tapped a pen against a clipboard. “Where have you been?”
“Drank too much and stayed at a hotel with Colt.”
“We have been looking all over for you two, we wanted to shoot another stunt this morning but then you both didn’t show up and it derailed the entire schedule. You better apologize to Molly for missing it.”
It took you a second to recognize what he said, what he mentioned about Molly and it took even longer to pick your jaw up off the floor and actually find the words to speak to him about the fact that he just mentioned your dead sister was not dead.
“Molly?”
“Yeah, she’s around here somewhere.”
“Uh…Molly is here…”
“Why would she not be?”
“Uh…When did you last see her?”
“This morning at around 8am when she came looking for you,” he said and walked off, leaving your jaw still partially dropped as Colt made his way over, an eyebrow raised.
“What happened?”
“He…he…”
“Seavers!”
“God dammit,” he muttered and turned just as Notch appeared, dressed in his costume.
“Where have you been?”
“Drank too much and slept in,” he said and Notch looked between the two of you with a grin.
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that and go apologize to Molly for missing the shoot today, she was pretty upset,” Notch said and walked off as Colt’s eyes widened and he turned to you.
“What?”
“I know…”
“Molly is alive. You checked her over right…for a pulse or movement before we left that room.”
“I swear to god she was dead. Her throat was cut and she wasn’t breathing and she was dead and now she’s back and is a zombie I guess.”
“She can’t be…maybe…”
“Maybe she’s a fake,” You said and he nodded. “I thought of that first. Someone could’ve easily faked being Molly and walked on set and took her place, especially if they knew she was dead.”
“Who else knows?”
“No one from what I can tell, it got covered up before we could get to it.”
“So we have a fake Molly and someone who still wants to kill you…great. This is beginning to sound a lot more complicated than my thing with Tom Ryder.”
“You dealt with a murder.”
“Yeah but that dead man stayed dead,” he muttered and you nodded, giving him that and walking closer to Molly’s trailer, reaching out to open the door when Molly herself stepped out, letting out a shriek once she saw you.
“Oh my God!” She cried and your eyes widened since Damon was right, Molly really was alive and currently glaring at you. “What the fuck.”
“Molly,” you said and she nodded, a brow raised. “You're here…and you're okay.”
“Why would I not be?”
“You drank a lot last night, were pretty out of it and we thought you'd be hungover.”
“You know, I don't get hungover,” she shot back and you raised a brow as she glanced at Colt over your shoulder. “Colt…of course you're here as well. We've been looking all over for the two of you. They wanted to do this massive stunt with a train and you both weren't here.”
“The train stunt was set for a sound stage later on,” Colt said and Molly eyed him.
“Right…maybe it was a bus. Damon mentioned a big stunt. Tell Notch your sorry for missing it. I have a fitting to get to.”
“For?”
“Just changing the costume a bit,” she muttered and applied some extra lipstick as your eyes narrowed. “Don't be late tomorrow. We're close to being done and then the real fun can begin. Notch even mentioned a new movie he'll be doing after this, something about space, I might join. You'd be down, right sis?”
“Always,” you assured and she smiled, patting your cheek before walking off with a whole new sway in her step. “That’s not Molly.”
“No shit. She didn't call my Colty.”
“She also hates pink lipstick and the brand was a company who called her a walking problem. She tried to do a promotional shoot with them but blew up when they kept insisting that pink was her colour.”
“What's her colour?”
“Baby pink.”
“That's the same thing.”
“Not according to Molly,” you said and pulled the handle of her trailer door but it was locked. “Shit. She locked it. We'll break in the next time they have one of the cast get togethers. They usually happen after long shoots. Until then…keep an eye on her. We need more dirt than just lipstick.”
“If that's not Molly, who is it?”
“I don't know. But whoever they are, I bet a bunch of money they also killed her.”
“But why?”
“Fame. Pretend to be Molly and then take her success.”
“I'll keep an eye out, see if I can spot anything else,” Colt assured and caught the frown on your face. “Hey, we can do this. I've solved a murder before.”
“Didn't Ryder leave all the evidence on his phone?”
“I still solved it. I brought him in.”
“After you fell out of a helicopter.”
“Details,” he shot and walked off as you rolled your eyes and hoped that Colt could find something, anything.
Fake Molly assumed her plan was flawless but even after so many years of nothing she was still your twin, your other half. You knew her inside and out and could spot the small moments that gave her away and hoped that would be enough to figure out why the real one was dead.
***
It was like watching someone attempt to pilot a Molly looking suit and they weren’t doing the greatest job at it since she was sloppy, like a version of Molly you looked at behind foggy glass. She was snappier, nastier and refused to listen to most of the crew who almost looked shocked by the change since while the original Molly was an actress who could be stuck up at points, she still had some bit of a soul. This one was like a shell and it had been five hours on set, trying to film a scene between Molly’s character and Notch’s and she just wouldn’t get it right and kept itching at her neck. The gesture made your eyes narrow and you were standing next to Colt, watching them through a monitor since no stunts were planned for the day, you were only there to observe.
“Cut. Do it again,” Damon said and sighed, leaning heavily in his chair as Molly groaned.
“Why?”
“Because that was horrible,” Notch deadpanned and she turned, glaring daggers at him as he put his hands up and stepped back.
“It was not. I was fine.”
“No…you weren’t…do it again,” Damon shot back and she rolled her eyes, snapping her fingers and an overworked makeup artist ran over and retouched everything as she flattened the hem of her skirt. “Alright…Elle and Sven…take eight.”
“Elle, talk to me. This is insane. We can’t do this…you are way out of your depth and are going to get the two of us killed,” Notch said, in character and you hated to admit he was pretty good, not great but not definitely not as bad as fake Molly.
“Sven…PLEASE,” she shouted and Damon cringed. “I can do this. Seth told me everything he knows about this line of work and you know me…I have skills, I’m brave and we need to get that drive back before this all gets out of control. You don’t know what Dr. Bravado is capable of…” She turned, leaning heavily on the rail and sighed, deep and looked like she was actually nailing the scene until she started crying and your eyes widened. “He killed him…in cold blood and he left me all alone and trying to figure out what the hell to do next. And now I have you, his equal and maybe my chance.”
“We can do this Elle, I know we can,” Notch began and grabbed her hand. “But I can’t lose you too.”
“You won’t…we’re stuck together.”
“I know. I’m yours.”
“And you’re mine,” she assured and he dipped down, giving her a kiss and Damon yelled cut.
“It turned out,” Colt said and you shrugged. “Still horrible.”
“Molly would be better,” you muttered and he nodded as Damon stepped up, shooing Notch and the fake Molly away from the fence you were shooting in front of.
“Thank you everyone for all your hard work today. I know it's been hard to get back into the swing of things but we've made some good progress and only have a few weeks left in our shooting schedule before the fun can begin. Make sure to come by after work by my trailer and enjoy a beer, have some fun and relax people, it's movie making magic and I like what we're doing, it's fun!”
The small crowd clapped and Damon grinned, walking off and patting Notch on the back as he went.
“A party?”
“Perfect chance to check out her trailer,” Colt said and you nodded as Molly walked towards it, scratching at her neck and yelling at Notch to keep up. “Come on, we have time.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“A break,” he said and walked off as you rolled your eyes and followed, trekking behind him through the streets of Italy.
“Why do you need a break?”
“I almost died a couple days back,” he shot back and you nodded since it didn't feel like that escape out the window was so recent. “I also haven’t seen a lot of the city and apparently there’s a spot with a view.”
You rolled your eyes but let Colt drag you through the streets of Milan until he pulled you into a bar near the heart of the city that had a rooftop deck and that nice view he was talking about. It overlooked a lot of the main square and since it was Italy and summer, it was hot outside, the sun beaming down on the two of you as he shed that Miami Vice jacket which left him in a white t-shirt. You pulled off the light flannel you had pulled on that morning and draped it across the back of the chair as Colt nodded in appreciation, the years of stunt work and muscle training leaving your arms and shoulders quite buff.
“This is a hell of a view,” you said and Colt chuckled.
“I like it,” he admitted and you knew he was looking at you.
“You’re too charming for your own good,” you shot back and turned as he blushed and looked away, almost embarrassed you had just called him out.
“You and a few people have thought that.”
“Jody?” you asked and he nodded. “How did that end? I never asked, I just kissed you…a lot.”
“I liked that part,” he said and you rolled your eyes. “We were good for a while after the whole Tom incident, even started this little company with a director and a stunt coordinator but Jody got a movie in Paris and I wasn’t needed. It was fancy and proper and no stunts were needed and she wanted me to tag along and be pretty on the sidelines and I wanted more. So I stayed behind and she made a fancy movie and met a fancier guy. We called it off two weeks after she left.”
“One movie is all it takes.”
“Metalstorm was a hit. She wanted to prove she could do more than just direct people how to blow up cars. I liked the blowing up cars part and wasn’t a huge fan of the whole acting part so we no longer fit.”
“Every movie needs a good car getting blown up.”
“Exactly,” Colt said and ordered a fancy sounding cocktail off a waiter along with some appetizers. “At least this movie has a few cool stunts but it got ruined by jealous people.”
“Is that your theory?”
“Jealousy is a hell of a drug and if someone wanted to become Molly they could do it pretty easy, she was alone and drunk…it wouldn’t take much to take advantage of her. We just have to figure out who did it and why and also what else they want.”
“Maybe it was Notch.”
“Why would he kill his co-star?”
“Have you seen Stacy?”
“Yeah they broke up in a fight the night of that party and then she went home.”
“Do you have proof?”
“I have this,” he said and showed off a photo of Stacy in New York, smiling at the camera with the Statue of Liberty over one shoulder. “It seems legit.”
“Seems,” you muttered and made a mental note to also check out Notch’s trailer when you went back.
“Question.”
“Of course.”
“Say you never got the email from Damon, never got this job and Molly never got her dream role and you never went to Milan…where would you be?”
“Really?”
“Come on…gun to your head…where would you be?”
“1.2 miles outside of Miami, Florida at the Palmdale Complex which is full of respectable and good looking single family homes.”
“Funny…I know someone that bought a house there and has been trying to renovate it.”
“What a coincidence,” you said and thanked the Italian waiter who walked back over, taking a sip of a drink that tasted more like mangoes than alcohol.
In another timeline, one that went differently, you’d be sipping beer poolside at a townhouse in Florida as Colt thrilled you with stories taken from his hours spent on set that day. He’d be working with smaller filmmakers, making movies that meant something and weren’t as high and mighty as Jody suggested but at least they’d be fun and he had always liked fun. You had a lot of it that one night in LA, in a small apartment with dim lights and a lingering scent of a peach flavoured Sangria you kept buying because it was cheap. You were also pretty sure that was the last day you had real fun and sighed, staring at the view as Colt recounted stories from the set you were just on and you tried to have fun.
Key word…tried.
The party Damon was so proud of was a small get-together on a darkened set as he handed out bottles of beer and told people some Italian snacks were on a table. It was small and simplistic but almost needed, a small bit of normal in the crazy life that happened when you spent x amount of months on a movie set. Molly and Notch were there, sitting next to each other and complaining about the lack of catering as you kept an eye on their trailers. When you looked back she was with Colt instead and he was making her laugh, keeping her occupied as you made your way towards the trailer but got stopped by Notch who placed a hand on your shoulder.
“How are you?”
“I’ve been better. Tired and overworked so I’m headed to bed.”
“You’re not drinking?”
“Colt and I grabbed drinks after the shoot.”
“Oh…Colt and I…excellent.”
“Really?”
“You look cute,” he said and pulled out a mini bottle of what looked like schnapps before handing it over. “Come on…when in Rome.”
“Don’t you mean when in Milan?”
“Small things don’t matter,” he muttered and you rolled your eyes but downed it as Notch gave your shoulder a pat and sucked back one himself. “Try to have fun, you only make a movie like this once.”
“I hope twice!” you called but he was already gone and you rolled your eyes, turning and spotting Colt alone, Molly gone and you cursed before running over as he stared at you, eyes a bit wide. “Where’s Molly?”
“Oh she left,” he said and blinked at you. “I think. Don’t remember when.”
“I was gone for a minute.”
“Then she left then,” he said and your eyes narrowed.
“Did she give you anything?”
“No…but you look real cute,” he said and you rolled your eyes as Damon turned up the music blasting in the corner and Taylor Swift began to serenade you both. “Man…she always shows up at the perfect time. She was my top artist last year and I am not afraid to admit that or the fact that I spent like 300 bucks to see her in Orlando. I cried sweetheart, sobbed.” Colt smiled, tears in his eyes as he tapped a rhythm in the arm of his chair that matched the song that was playing. “I keep these longings locked. In lowercase inside a vault. Someone told me. There's no such thing as bad thoughts.”
“Colt…”
“Only your actions talk. These fatal fantasies. Giving way to labored breath,” he sang and stood, spinning around as you rolled your eyes. “Taking all of me. We've already done it in my head…”
“COLT!”
“What?”
“Focus. Where did Molly go?”
“I’m telling you and the unicorn next to you…that I don’t know,” he said and your eyes widened. “What?”
“Did Molly give you a drink?”
“Yeah, this,” he said and handed over a small bottle as you pulled out its twin from your pocket, a gift from Notch and could suddenly feel the world begin to tilt.
“Shit…I don’t know how…but they drugged them.”
“Don’t do drugs, sweetheart,” he shot back and you rolled your eyes.
“You’re such a light weight.”
“No you!” he said and his words were already being slurred. I’m fine. I have my brain…it’s here…Right?”
“Sure,” you said and walked away from him, towards the trailer as Colt let out a noise of annoyance and followed, stumbling his way across the set and grabbing your shoulder for stability. “Colt…you should just sit and let it pass.”
“Nah…You are in need of my help…I can help…I am good helper.”
“Spell helper.”
“H-e-l-k-d-t…is there a y?” he asked and you stopped, grabbing his cheeks which were warm and his eyes were bloodshot, pupils blown out and you knew he was useless, a drugged mess of stuntman who was suddenly a lot more obsessed with you. “You know…Taylor has a song called Love Story…that’s you.”
“What?”
“A love story…you are my Juliet and I am a hopeless Romeo.”
“Sure.”
“I should have poisoned myself like he did…after I left…it’s what I deserved.”
“Why did you leave?” you asked since Colt had his guard down and maybe his drug riddled brain would give you a straight answer.
“I saw you that morning…the light hit your face and I saw a future…a moment without Jody in it where I was happy and it scared me. I wasn’t ready for the future and I treated you like an escape but you’re really hard to escape, like a black hole…in a good way. So I left before I stuck around and fucked it all up because you deserve a Colt with his shit together.”
“How about now?”
“I took this job with Notch because he mentioned his costar was named Molly,” he said and grinned. “I knew it was your sister and I wanted to see you as much as you wanted to see me…Desperately.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Now we need to find Molly…find her and kick her ass…right?”
“Sure,” you said and kept walking, spotting the unicorn he mentioned and letting out a sigh, grateful whatever drug they added to the bottles wasn’t affecting you as much.
Molly’s trailer was off to the side of the massive set that was mainly a large field at the moment and was where all the catering trucks and equipment was kept when it wasn’t being used. Hers was one of the bigger ones and parked next to Notch’s, the lights on since she seemed to be inside which was going against your plan. You crept up to the door and luckily still had a key because Molly had never been the best at keeping things and stabbed it into the lock before twisting it, the door opening shortly after. Inside wasn’t Molly but her severed head and the drugs finally kicked in as you screamed and jumped back, knocking into Colt who stepped aside, too drugged up to catch you and you landed hard on your back. You blinked, trying to get the feeling back and glanced up to see the severed head was not that but a mask, like the ones used in Mission Impossible and a very confused not Molly was staring down at you.
“Stacy?” you asked and she cursed as you felt the pain start in the back of your head from hitting the ground a bit too hard.
“Notch!” she called and he walked out, moving to Colt and raising a brow when the guy tried to retaliate.
“Hey man…what is this?” he asked and tried to punch him but it failed and he went flying and Notch moved aside and let it happen, Colt falling to the dirt in a heap, out cold.
“Colt?”
“Out for the count,” Notch said and you leaned back on the ground, eyes blurry as he hovered over you. “Next time don’t take drinks from strangers.”
“Fuck you,” you said and he chuckled.
“Not my type,” Notch muttered and you went to move but the world tilted to the side and in seconds you were out like a light.
You awoke with a start to find yourself face to face with the sleeping and dirt covered face and hair of Colt Seavers since you were both chained to the table in Stacy’s trailer as the woman herself sat close by. She was leaning back on her phone, eyes narrowed as she scrolled through it with the Molly mask sitting on the table next to her and it made you angry. She was jealous of Molly, it was clear from the start and killed her in order to take over her spot in the movie and get her moment in the spotlight like the power hungry wannabe you knew she was.
“Hello Molly,” you snapped and she looked up, smiling.
“Hello.”
“Why are we tied up?”
“I don’t trust you,” she said and Colt let out a snore, still fast asleep and you rolled your eyes as she got closer, leaning in front of you. “You really do look alike. Molly is prettier and her eyes are brighter, but I like your cheekbones. It was hard to get the mask right but thanks to some movie magic and Notch knowing Tom Cruise, we managed to figure it out.”
“So you killed Molly to become her?”
“I didn’t kill her…well…I did I guess but I didn’t intend to.”
“What does that mean?’
“My intention was to drug Molly, leave her locked in a room till the movie and press tour was done and then let her go. No one would die…I’d be famous after revealing that she was secretly not here and I, Stacy Waller have been her the whole time. The press would have a field day, Molly would be ruined for having a fake and I would get my beautiful moment in the sun.”
“But then…”
“Notch happened. He gave her the wrong dose and she died and then had to make sure it looked like a violent murder and not drugging like it was. I never wanted to kill her…trust me.”
“But you did…she’s dead and instead of fessing up and telling someone, you pretended to be her!!” you shouted and Colt jolted awake. “My sister, my twin is dead because you and Notch are too fucking assholes with nothing else to do but ruin peoples lives…mine included.”
“Jesus…that was a lot.”
“I have more,” you muttered and turned to Colt to find him grinning. “What?”
“That was sexy.”
“You caught that?”
“Do it again,” Colt said and you rolled your eyes as Stacy let out a huff.
“Stop giving each other google eyes and focus on me. You are the ones that are tied to a table and have a lot to worry about right at this moment.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that I have enough evidence stacked against you to frame the both of you for murder,” she said and your jaw dropped.
“What?”
“Those men you ran from worked for Notch and they have Molly’s body in a secure location and it takes one call to move her to your trailer, all perfect on the bed and for me to claim I became Molly to cover up her sister being a murderer and that I did it because you threatened me.”
“What do you want from us?”
“I want you to sit in here and be good little stunt people and do the remaining tricks before I get to live my life in the spotlight like I deserve.”
“So you’re going to leave us here…in this trailer.”
“Yes, keep up.”
“Molly?”
“Notch, call me Stacy,” she said and the said guy poked his head through the door, ignoring you and Colt and giving her a smile. “What do you need?”
“Damon has been asking where his star is.”
“Of course. I’ll be there,” she said and moved to pull on the mask, slipping right back into the Molly persona and stopping by the door. “Don’t move. I’ll be back with dinner from Damon’s party. You only missed an hour of it, the drugs weren’t that impressive by the way.” She smiled and was just about to walk out the door when she stopped and walked back, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at her. “You know…in another life…we might have been sisters and for now we’re family and I hope you’ll forgive me for what happened, I liked her a lot. She was pretty drunk before the drugs and mentioned to you that she was happy to see you happy again, enjoying your work. I hope you still can and will…long after this mess is over. Maybe you’ll even change your hair and become my stunt double instead. One can dream.”
You stared at the door and could feel tears in your eyes but you refused to let them fall since Stacy had already taken too much and she wasn’t about to break your spirit on top of your family. Colt caught the change and reached out, hand brushing yours and you gave him a smile since he could make any moment better, even one locked in a trailer and cuffed to a table. What you needed was to leave, to get out of there and go and find someone who would believe your crazy story that Molly was dead and this one was a fake and rather than finish the movie, you needed to solve a crime. But Damon was good friends with Notch and the whole team had a reason to keep going and it felt like you were on the outs, up a creek without a paddle.
“Hey…we’re gonna get through this.”
“We’re in a lot more shit than we were a few hours ago. Stacy is off the rails.”
“She also I fear is underestimating us…she doesn’t know what she’s up against and that will be her downfall. The two of us might be slightly insane and she doesn’t get it, she doesn’t understand.”
“Insane how?” you asked and he chuckled.
“We jump out of windows for a living, we’re insane,” he said and you rolled your eyes. “I have a gun license and a black belt in three different martial arts disciplines and you have the record for the highest freefall drop done by a female stunt woman…we got this.”
“This feels like too much,” you said and sighed as Colt reached up, stretching thanks to the cuffs on his wrists and placed a hand on yours.
“Hey…how about this…I make you feel better.”
“How?”
“I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anyone before, not even Jody and I liked her for years.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re sitting here, assuming your world is ending and I want to make you feel better. Sure it won’t fix this but maybe it can make you smile.”
“Fine…go for it,” you said and he grinned.
“Okay…my name…my real name is not Colt,” he said and your eyes widened. “Colt is a stage name and I’ve used it for years, ever since I got the Miami Vice job. I got that job when I was 18 and the first day on set I met the guy I’m doubling for and he’s older but we have a similar build and hair and all that jazz so we’re fine…we’re good and I introduce myself and he immediately goes… “No.” So I assume I’m fired…I did nothing and yet he hates me and wants me gone but it turns out, my name was the problem. I introduced myself with my first name…Ryder…and his name was Ryder Collins and he didn’t want his stuntman to have the same name as him so he told me to change it and then started to ramble about Colt 45’s and whether I could shoot one because that was going to be the first stunt and I asked if Colt was a suitable stage name and and he said it was. I thought I could start using Ryder but I met Tom and his ego was so big I couldn’t dare try it out and suddenly I found myself liking Colt a little too much to really change it back.”
“Ryder Seavers,” you said and he nodded. “I like it.”
“I always liked it as well, Ryder felt interesting, it was different and cool and my mom did a good job with it.”
“Were you named after anyone?”
“Sally Ride…she couldn’t use the name Ride or Sally so she chose Ryder as a nod to it and always told me I could be like her, touch the stars.”
“Too bad you weren’t an astronaut.”
“Sucked at math…maybe in another life,” he muttered and ran a hand through his hair as your eyes narrowed. “Oh…this…had to distract you.”
“How?” you asked and Colt pulled a pen out of his pocket. “You can pick a lock on a pair of cuffs with a pen.”
“I spent a lot of time in cuffs in my 20’s, you learn to get creative,” he said and got to work on unlocking yours as your eyes narrowed. “Not for the reason you might think.”
“You have a secret dark side,” you said just as Colt got the cuffs off and you stood, rubbing your wrists and he shrugged. “Well it was useful right now so I’m going to see it as a blessing. We still don’t have a plan…Stacy is going to come back and see that we got out and then frame us for murder.”
“Maybe we could use her need to be a star…against her,” Colt suggested and your eyes narrowed.
“How?”
“Change the ending. Put her in a spot where the only option she has is to reveal herself and her plan.”
“Molly said that it was Wendy who changed the ending…she added Notch and also changed the final stunt to be his, not hers but when I looked into it, Wendy wrote the whole thing and someone else changed her ending. Maybe she’d be willing to change it back.”
“Like the car stunt with Tom…make them see just how dangerous this job is.”
“I have texts from Molly about her wanting to try out stunt work, make her job a bit more interesting, maybe Damon will take it as proof that he needs to change his ending, lean more into the women empowerment side and less about the man saving the day.”
“Hey…We can save the day sometimes,” he said and you rolled your eyes, walking over to the door and pulling it open only to quickly shut it since Notch was sitting outside, scrolling through his phone as he stared at photos of himself.
“Shit…Notch is out there.”
“We have the roof,” Colt said and you glanced up at a vent in the ceiling as he hopped onto the table and got it open, pulling himself up as you followed and ended up on the roof of the trailer.
“Now what?”
“A small leap,” he said and walked to the edge, eyeing the trailer next to Molly’s that luckily belonged to you before going for it, clearing the three foot gap with ease as you rolled your eyes. “Come on!”
“Be happy it’s not a massive gap,” you shot back and he rolled his eyes.
“I would have caught you,” he said and you jumped for it, missing the leap despite how small it was and Colt did just that, grabbing your arm before you could tumble off the side. “Would you look at that?”
“I slipped,” you said and he pulled you to your feet, gripping your shoulders to make sure you were stable as your heart pounded.
“You’re falling for me, sweetheart, admit it.”
“Never,” you shot back and moved to the vent but the roof was slippery and nearly tumbled off the side a second time, once again getting grabbed by Colt as his grin grew even wider. “Not a word.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Shut up…Ryder.”
“Not the real name,” he said and feigned hurt as you pulled away and made your way to solid ground thanks to the ladder on the fair side of the trailer. “Where’s Wendy?”
“Her trailer is on the other side of the set. Look out for Stacy and Notch, I don’t really want them to know we escape just yet.”
“Will Damon go for a new ending?”
“He trusts me…I hope and he wants this movie to succeed…maybe he’ll even believe us. That man might be insufferable and too French for his own good but he wants to make the best movie he can and we’re making that possible.”
“Let’s hope,” Colt said and you nodded, making your way across the set, dipping between trailers and people, keeping an eye out for Notch or Stacy who seemed occupied by either keeping you both in the trailer or enjoying the party.
Stacy, dressed as Molly, was leaning heavily on a PA you had seen around before, practically throwing herself at him and smiling as he laughed at a bad joke shot at him from someone on the crew who walked by. You rolled your eyes and were about to walk across the last bit of grass when Colt grabbed your wrist and pulled you back, shielding you from Notch who walked by, still immersed in his phone screen.
“Colt…”
“Shhh,” he said and you hated how close you were, his chin brushing the top of your head as he kept his eyes on Notch, hand playing with your hip almost absentmindedly as your breath sped up.
“I think he’s gone…”
“Nope…still looking over here…he’s gone.”
“Can you step back?”
“Nope…We need to make sure,” he said and his other hand found the other side of your hip as his grip tightened keeping you locked in place. “He might be gone.”
“He might’ve been gone.”
“Not enjoying this?” he asked and looked down, blonde tipped bangs hanging in front of his eyes as he looked down at you with a grin on his face. “I am.”
“Colt…it’s not the time.”
“I know,” he said and stepped back, hand lingering until you moved far enough away to have it drop.
“Wendy’s trailer is right over here,” you said and moved closer to it, getting farther away until you noticed that Colt hadn’t moved, he was rooted in place. “Colt. Are you coming?”
“Just taking a look.”
“You got to stop that. We have more pressing things to worry about then how much you can flirt with me in a single walk to a trailer across the grass.”
“Who said I was flirting?”
“That smirk on your face.”
“What smirk?” he asked as you kept going, keeping an eye out and waited a second before spinning back around, catching the wide grin before he could get rid of it.
“That one,” you shot back and smiled when he blushed, picking up his pace and keeping up with you as you knocked on the door of Wendy’s trailer, ignoring the do not disturb sign taped to the glass.
“Can we not read signs?”
“Uh…Wendy? We were hoping to speak to you.”
“Who is we?”
“Colt Seavers,” you said and added your name as a lot of crashing and cursing came from inside before the door opened and you grabbed a potted cactus before it could topple out of the trailer.
“The stunt people?”
“Yes,” you said and a woman with frizzy hair and very thick glasses, grinned and pushed the door open more, allowing you inside as she grabbed the plant.
“Why didn’t you say so? Come in,” she said and you did, eyeing the jungle of houseplants as she moved a few off the couch and patted a cushion. “Also…Wendy Chapman is my full name but I know that Damon never tells anyone because he and his fucked up little ghost writer changed my ending and ruined my movie.”
“Your ending?”
“The one with Elle making a big statement and saving the man like the badass woman she is.”
“Damon told everyone that you wanted that ending…it was your idea.”
“He lied. I wrote the original and then added in Notch when he mentioned his good friend needed a job and he wanted to be nice so I added Sven and changed it but wanted to keep that Elle ending so bad. He made me switch it because Molly didn’t want to do stunts. I found that odd because you do them and you’re great at them and Molly has been ruining my movie since her little bender moment. Talk to her.”
“I will,” you said and knew the stunt comment was made by Stacy and her and Notch had been planning the whole thing for a while. “We need to talk to you about changing it back because I have messages from Molly that are all about her wanting to do the stunts. Especially the last one with the fire escape climb and the jump and the catch…heck of a moment. Full of female empowerment and all that jazz, exactly what you wanted.”
“And Damon is okay with this?”
“I can make him okay with it.”
“Excellent, I have the original script,” she said and dug it out of a potted monsterra before handing it over. “I will also send off a copy to Damon and you can tell him about all those little messages you discovered and we can put this trainwreck back on the tracks.”
“Sure…I like that idea.”
“Also, good job with those stunts, Molly has a hell of a sister.”
“I try…it’s my job to look cool so she can look even cooler.”
“Give yourself more credit. Us writers add in these crazy scenes and insane sequences and just hope that people like you both can pull it off and you do…you make the movie magic happen.”
“Stunt people are meant to be the unknown,” Colt said and Wendy looked at him. “We do the dirty work so the star can shine. I’m fine with my double getting all the credit, all the awards and I’m sure she is too.”
“Molly deserves it. I would be out of a job without her,” you said and sucked in a deep breath as Colt sighed. “Maybe one day I’ll step back…be a coordinator like I planned.”
“What’s keeping you?”
“Molly,” you said and gave Colt a knowing look as he ran a hand through his hair, Wendy missing the silent exchange when someone else knocked on the door but in a different way.
“Oh my sweetie has arrived!!” Wendy called and walked over, pulling open the door as her sweetie walked in and made your jaw drop.
“Damon?”
“Damon,” he shot back and stepped further in before giving her a kiss. “What are you two doing in here?”
“We were talking to Wendy about the ending, sweetie,” Colt said and he chuckled as Damon glared.
“What’s wrong with my ending?”
“We wanted it to have more female empowerment,” you said and he rolled his eyes. “Listen…you have a star with Molly, she’s the big bucks and why people are going to come see this and who they’re all going to be looking at and yet…she’s missing out on the last big stunt of the film. People want Elle to succeed and not get saved by Sven like every other generic action movie ever made…this original ending is something different.”
“Something different…”
“It can be,” you said and Damon nodded. “Imagine…people watch your movie and for all of it, it looks like Sven is going to save the day and then right at the last second…bam…it’s Elle. She saves everyone, him and the world.”
“When you put it like that…”
“Molly mentioned wanting to try her own stunts weeks back, I have texts that I can send so we can run through the final set of stunts tomorrow and then film it for real later on.”
“She’ll agree to that?”
“I feel like she has to,” you said and Colt nodded in agreement.
“I guess it can’t mess things up anymore. This movie needs something to set it apart from all the other action flicks being made and maybe that ending scene is the key. If Wendy, my love, thinks it’s a good idea, I must agree.”
“I do,” she said and Damon smiled, giving her cheek a kiss.
“Tell Molly we’ll run through those stunts in the morning. We have the space and the time, why not see if it’s even possible to save this trainwreck of a movie before it really gets derailed.”
“I will,” you said and smiled, following Colt back outside the trailer and immediately getting spotted by Molly who didn’t look pleased you had made it out of her locked trailer.
She stormed over, yelling to Notch who was following behind her and looked almost shocked that he managed to lose track of the two of you.
“How the hell did you get out?”
“We escaped,” Colt shot back and draped an arm around Notch’s shoulder as his eyes widened. “Maybe next time you shouldn’t cuff a man who spent his twenties getting out of handcuffs.” Notch eyed him and he shook his head. “Not for the reason you think…trust me.”
“You have a busy day tomorrow, Molly,” you shot back and her eyes narrowed. “We were just talking to Wendy and Damon and they want to change the ending to give Elle a bigger part in this movie and that comes with a whole new collection of stunts. Stunts that I have texts from you about…Like jumping off a fire escape and getting caught by Notch and a fake fight scene…because before that cast party you wanted to start doing your own stunts and Damon is all for it.”
“He is?”
“I am,” he said and the man himself walked over, smiling at Molly as her mouth hung open in shock and she looked ready to tell him she was out but kept her mouth shut and gave him a wide grin.
“Well then I will look forward to it, I can’t wait to show off my talents.”
“You’ll do great,” you said and she nodded in agreement. “We have a few simple stunts planned and then a jump that you will be fully harnessed for. It’ll be easy to get through, trust me.”
“And if I die?”
“Molly you are talking with a stuntman who fell like seven stories and all he did was break his back, you’re fine,” you assured and Colt sighed, rubbing said back since you knew he hated to remember that moment.
“You are insane and I better survive this so I can frame you both for murder the second I get off set.”
“Feel free.”
“That’s it? You give up?”
“If you can get through tomorrow, you deserve to frame me for murder.”
“Challenge accepted,” she shot back and threw her hair, that was an obvious wig, over one shoulder before running off with a huff as you rolled your eyes and noticed that Notch didn’t follow.
“I don’t have to do a lot of stunts right?” he asked and turned to Colt who shrugged.
“Probably not. The ones planned are all for Molly.”
“Good…because I don’t like heights or running or like doing more than needed for a movie. It’s why I have stunt doubles and one time I had a whole body double for this scene in the sun because my skin is too good for that.”
“Molly will be the only one in mortal peril,” you assured and Notch smiled, wrapping you in a hug and even giving your cheek a kiss.
“You’re the best,” he assured and ran off, back towards the trailer as you glanced at Colt who just shrugged.
“Well then…”
“I am choosing not to question that.”
“Best option frankly,” Colt said and chuckled before you both walked the opposite direction, your trailer at the other end of the set, away from Molly and Notch until the morning and hopefully the end of all of this.
“God that was scary,” you said and Colt chuckled, flopping back on the bed at the back of the trailer as you took the couch. “I thought she was going to say something but luckily the only thing Stacy wants more than ruining my life is finishing this movie.”
“We could have told Damon.”
“Tell him that his star is actually a fake and it will ruin his movie…he’d think I was insane. I have a plan for tomorrow and it involves that jump.”
“What about after?”
“If I don’t die or get accused of murder I might sit back and breathe for a little bit or take a vacation. I hear that Spain is nice this time of year and we’re not that far out.”
“What about Florida?”
“It’s June, I’m sure Florida is nice too,” you said, not catching what he was implying as Colt chuckled and moved, jumping off the bed and joining you on the couch. “What?”
“What if we went to Florida…together…and you helped me remodel that single family home so we could hang out by the pool afterwards and I could thrill you with stories from back on set.”
“And I could actually put my skills to good use and be a stunt coordinator like I planned,” you added and he nodded, with a grin, moving closer, hand resting on your thigh as you looked down at it.
“It sounds like a nice life. Simple…no murder or fake twin sisters or crazy stunts planned to make a director realise his star is a fake twin sister.”
“When you put it like that,” you said and Colt chuckled, resting his forehead on yours, so close you could feel his breath on your lips whenever he exhaled.
The story of you and Colt was told in fragments, running into each other at the wrong time in the wrong place. You saw him when he was young in Florida one time, he caught you in Hollywood, you bumped into each other on dozens of sets and even after Metalstorm when you thought he had died jumping a burning boat in Australia. You were pissed at Colt for faking his death and never telling you, the one person he called his constant after both the fact that you were always there and a nod to your shared favourite show Lost.
That moment after Jody was the first where feelings got involved, real feelings, feelings that made you believe that maybe something could happen but Colt saw it getting too real and bolted before he gave you both a chance and you stayed. You took the job and got Molly her dream role and assume that was it for yourself and Colt Seavers, two people who just never ended up at the right moment at the right time until he started singing Taylor Swift at a cast party and everything changed.
“What?” Colt asked when you pulled away and grabbed your phone, still sitting in a drawer where you left it and pressed play on a song that made him grin. “Wow…what a throwback.”
“I didn’t give you any words,” you said and he chuckled. “I got some now.”
“And?”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“Oh come on.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, if my plan is going to work but I want to hold onto something good happening afterwards, in us getting a chance to actually be something and see where this could go. Maybe it goes to Spain for a vacation or back to Florida for a semblance of a normal life or something crazier…who knows. But what I want is you there.”
“I’m there,” he assured and you nodded, moving back to the bed and pausing the song on your way. “Should I take the couch?”
“Never take it again,” you said and Colt nodded, joining you on the bed as you enjoyed the last night of peace before the entire world went a bit crazy.
But maybe it would work out and you’d give him the kiss he had been desperately searching for and agree with Taylor when she sang about being in love for maybe you were. With a man who’s mom told him he was destined to touch the stars with a name like his but all he needed was to reach for you.
The plan was simple. What you needed was to put Stacy in a spot where she’d be forced to give it up that she was just pretending to be Molly and your sister was actually dead, body buried someplace she never said. The stunts would be a part of that and you’d be right next to the fake Molly under the guise that you were doing them with her, making sure she knew the steps before the cameras turned on. The truth would be that they were already on and you were buddies with one of the camera operators who really hated the new Molly, he called her annoying and was more than willing to take part in your little plan. Colt was in a building across a pretty big gap with Notch since his character was supposed to be tied up and he and Molly would meet in the middle and she’d jump to him, getting caught before she could fall with a drive of all the information they needed clutched in one hand.
You were going to recreate that, convince Molly she could do the stunt and then ruin it right at the end. It all looked good, she was eager to prove herself and wasn’t saying a thing as you made sure her harness was attached properly, cables attached to a crane above the building that would catch her before she could fall. This was the biggest stunt of the movie so Damon made sure the entire team went all out and Molly was getting tied to a chair since it was in the script that her character would feel inspired by the death of her husband, break out with his own pocket and prove herself with a fight, a climb to the top of the roof and eventually a jump.
“Tell me again.”
“Fight, climb, jump,” you said and she nodded, looking nervous.
“And why are you here?”
“We’re not filming today, just running through it.”
“Why?”
“Damon wants it to be perfect and we need to practice to make it perfect,” you assured and she looked doubtful but rolled her eyes and sat back like she was supposed to as you left the rest of the set up to Joe. “Colt…come in.”
“I am here.”
“Switch to channel 3.”
“10-4,” he replied and you switched your own radio over, Colt following suit. “Hello.”
“How are we looking?”
“Notch is grateful he gets to do nothing but sit and look pretty.”
“Good…Molly is excited…I think.”
“Do you think your plan is going to work?”
“I might have to improvise a little bit,” you said and he pressed the button just to sigh into his walkie.
“Be careful.”
“I will. I’ll see you on the other side,” you said and nodded to Joe who gave a thumbs up that she was ready. “Molly! Do the first scene yourself, you know it. A simple scuffle and then bolt towards the window, it’s made of breakaway glass so it should shatter on your way out and I’ll meet you on the fire escape. Good luck.”
“Don’t need it,” she shot back and you rolled your eyes.
“Alright…final stunt sequence rehearsal in three…two…one…action!” you called and watched as Molly called out her line about needing to feel her husband one last time before getting through the ropes with ease and rolling to her feet, exactly as planned.
The guys playing her assailants ran in and attacked, feigning punches to keep her safe as she acted with a surprising amount of grace for someone who was pretty bad at everything else. But you could spot where she and the real Molly differed, how much she pulled back and her lack of confidence, kicking out like she was scared as the guy she was against had to accommodate the lack of skill and it looked a lot more fabricated than normal. You could tell the crew was starting to see it, muttering about how she lacked finesse and smiled as Molly pulled off the last hit, a kick and sent the guy flying back into a pad and he stood up with a grumble about the horrible presentation as you rolled your eyes and nodded to Joe.
“Phase two!” you called and bolted over to Molly, dressed in an outfit exactly like hers, tight black pants and a leather jacket like her character was supposed to be wearing as she set herself up for the jump.
“Where do I jump?”
“Ylou should catch yourself on the rail of the fire escape outside the window.”
“Then after that?”
“Climb,” you said and nodded to Joe that you were in position as she sighed and got herself ready. “Colt we’re ready in three…two…one.”
“10-4…Notch and I are good on this end.”
“Stay on channel three.”
“Got it,” he said and moved to the other channel as you added an earpiece before getting yourself ready.
“Molly…are you good?”
“Just do it.”
“Okay…in three…two…one…”
At one she was off and running towards the window as you followed, yelling advice as she managed to break herself free and slam into the rail of the fire escape on the side of the building you were using for the stunt. She didn’t overshoot like you thought she might and just brushed off a bit of pain and kept going, taking the stairs two at a time towards the roof as you got closer to your plan coming together. The real kicker would be the jump since Molly was supposed to jump to the other roof, miss and get caught by Notch who would be leaning out of the window. It was supposed to mimic a bit of fate in play and Wendy assured the audience would find it romantic that Elle was desperate for a sign that her husband was still with her only to have his brother reach out and catch her.
In reality Molly was going to jump and not fall with the cable she was connected to but hang there, dangling above the ground and hopefully it would be enough for her to reveal herself to the rest of the crew. You weren’t positive that it would be enough and were too busy worrying about it when you were slammed right at the top of the roof and ended up tipping over the top of it, barely able to scramble and catch yourself.
“What the…”
“The tables you see have turned,” Molly said and smiled, looking down at you.
“What are you doing?”
“Notch told me your plan,” she said and pointed to a small earpiece you hadn’t noticed. “Turns out that Colt is as good at fighting as he is at getting out of handcuffs but it still wasn’t enough and he has Colt on the ropes. Take a look.”
You looked down and sure enough Colt was in a similar position, hanging off the fire escape on the other building just a few stories below you as Notch looked up at you and Molly, a grin on his face.
“So what…instead of frame me for murder you’re going to kill me too,” you said and she shrugged.
“No…I’ll pull you up but you have to admit on the radio that you did it, you killed Molly and I am a double you hired to keep up the guise that she was still alive,” Molly said and you groaned, moving and gripping the edge with one hand, using the other to switch your radio to Colt’s channel and hoped that he never switched back.
“Colt…”
“I got it…give me a minute,” he said and you could hear grumbling as he got himself back up, tossing Notch back through the window.
“What the hell…”
“Stop messing with stunt people. We train our entire lives to be dangled off buildings or tossed through windows and we even train to be the second best, stuck behind a sister we never hated, we love more than life itself. I loved Molly, I loved her so much and felt like an asshole when we could never connect and now she’s gone, dead and gone and it’s all because of you.”
“I worked my ass off for the spotlight and people told me I didn’t have the face for it, me a model and she got it all. She had this and this job and even my own boyfriend. He was obsessed with her and he never saw me as anything more than an accessory.”
“That’s a Crotch Carter problem,” you assured and chuckled as Colt assured over the radio that he was ready and you sighed, readying yourself for one hell of a jump. “You will have to learn Stacy that movies are full of fakes. We play our parts but that’s not who we are, we’re all pretending and sometimes pretending to be something is what gets you almost killed by the fake version of your twin sister.”
“Is this some kind of lesson?”
“Yeah…never trust an actor and…never trust a fucking stuntman!” you called and reached up, ripping off her mask as she shrieked and pushing off the side of the building, falling towards the ground without a cable attached.
But unlike Stacy who didn’t have anyone to lean on and especially not an actor with the worst name on the planet, you had Colt Seavers and he was there, grabbing you before you could even reach the bottom. Sure he might’ve dislocated a shoulder in the process and you cringed in pain but you were and he was quick to pull you up.
“Good?”
“Always,” you said and nodded to Joe who pressed a button and the now still harnessed was shot into the air with a shriek before the cable lowered her to where she was level with you and Colt. “Stacy.”
“What the…Where’s Notch?”
“He’s not the best at fighting,” Colt said and nodded to a knocked out Notch inside the room.
“This is insane…this whole thing was a setup…I could have died…”
“That would have been a big problem,” you assured and hoped she’d catch the sarcasm.
“You still have no proof I killed Molly. I’m not even being recorded and what…they’re going to believe your testimony over mine, I have good lawyers and Notch does as well.”
“Tell me again…how did it happen in case I need to tell a jury.”
“It was mainly Notch, I just wanted to drug her but he sliced her throat like an idiot and I had to fake being her with that stupid mask that is very hot for Italy in June.”
“And why?”
“To steal this whole thing, this spotlight, I deserved it and spent so long in auditions and waiting rooms, staring at girls who were way uglier than me as they got the parts that I deserved for movies I’d be perfect at. I auditioned for this role but they gave it to the actress who had a twin sitting in the corner, a built in body double and it’s not fair.”
“Right…sorry…can you say all that again?”
“What?”
“I’m not sure that Tyler’s camera caught the last part,” you said and nodded to the camera through the window of the other building, still rolling like you planned as her eyes widened.
“What?”
“Remember? You can’t trust anyone, even people who tell you this won’t be filmed. Everything is filmed here, it’s the movies,” you said and she launched into a flurry of curses as you rolled your eyes and followed Colt down the fire escape and back on solid ground.
“So she was a fake,” Damon said and you nodded, handing over the mask. “Who is she?”
“Stacy Parsons. Notch’s girlfriend.”
“I don’t think that relationship is lasting.”
“Maybe not,” you said and smiled as Damon sighed. “Sorry about your movie.”
“No…I have an idea for a new one now. Two stunt people who uncover a conspiracy on their set and need to work together to fix it and they get drugged and escape and have to make up this massive stunt to get the real killer in position. They could also be old friends who have been in love for years and they finally got the chance at saying it aloud after that brutal final stunt and it would be the perfect love story. What do you think?”
“That sounds pretty unrealistic,” you said and he nodded.
“It is a movie.”
“I know…but you just did a big elaborate love story plot, why not focus on something smaller?”
“Smaller…Right…”
“I’m sure people will love the grounded approach and not…whatever that was,” you assured as Colt chuckled behind you.
“Right…I’ll think about it,” he assured and wandered off, calling for Wendy so they could discuss it right as the Italian police appeared and you followed Colt off the set to let them do their work and not interfere with a very easy investigation.
“Do you think he’ll make his movie about stunt people falling in love?”
“It would be too hard to believe.”
“For sure…who would play us?” Colt asked and you chuckled. “What actor do I look like?”
“Hmmmm….What about Ryan Gosling?”
“You mean Ken from the Barbie movie?”
“Yeah.”
“Nah, that’s not right,” he said and you nodded, not seeing it yourself as he took a seat on a bench overlooking a view and you followed. “So what’s next? Spain?”
“God no…I need calm…probably Florida.”
“I have a house that needs to be renovated.”
“I can hold a hammer,” you assured and he chuckled. “I’ll have to wait for this shoulder to heal so I can be a cheerleader beforehand.”
“You know I have a big ego.”
“We’d be a perfect combo,” you assured and he turned, smiling when he saw how close you had gotten.
“Together.”
“You’re not going to run?”
“Never again,” he said and reached forward, cupping your cheek and pulling you closer, finally getting the chance to kiss you after so long of wishing for it.
It was a good one too, packed full of years of regret that nothing happened sooner and you were excited to see just how far you and Colt could go together. Maybe when everything settled he’d go back to sets full of stuntwork and you’d finally be the stunt coordinator you had always dreamed of being. But the big part would be that you’d be together, sitting in his home in Florida and talking about all the other dreams you had planned and knowing you could accomplish them as long as Colt was right by your side.
“Colt…”
“Yes…”
“My shoulder is still dislocated.”
“Right,” he muttered and pulled back as you groaned in pain. “We should probably get that fixed.”
“Good idea,” you said and followed him back to an Italian ambulance as they looked you over and you were both joined by Damon who had more ideas about crazy love stories that could only happen in movies.
You and Colt knew they could happen in real life, you had proved it and Stacy was convicted of everything alongside Notch and months after the whole thing had finished you buried Molly in Hollywood and apologized for it all. You spent every minute on set doing it for her and the job took you to wonderful places and you met people just as incredible as you hoped with Colt right by your side the whole way through. A stuntman and a coordinator, taking over the industry movie by movie and if there were anymore murders to solve, you’d have him to assist with that as well. He’d forever be there, by your side with a smile on his face and making any set and any day infinitely better for maybe Taylor Swift was right after all.
WELL because you are so excited and I need more motivation to finish it...how about a taste??
The cast and crew had gathered at a restaurant not far off the set with an expensive menu and a rooftop deck that overlooked the nice part of town and to say you were done with it was an understatement. Call it a stunt person trope or maybe you just hated parties but rooms full of people trying to talk over music they know it too loud was not your definition of a good time, it was a bad time and like always you were in the corner, bobbing your head to that loud ass music and hoping Molly would get tired and head home so you could have an excuse to leave.
But she was dancing in the middle of all the people pleasers, a tequila sunrise in hand and the biggest smile on her face and you sighed, knowing it would be a while before you could sleep. You also spotted Notch across the way with an arm draped across the shoulder of his actress girlfriend as he smoked a cigarette and blew the smoke in her face every couple seconds. You rolled your eyes and were about to search for a second beer when the music shifted, getting a bit slower and you groaned as a song you loathed started to play through the speakers and the dance floor got slower, more intimate.
You can hear it in the silence, silence, you
You can feel it on the way home, way home, you
You can see it with the lights out, lights out
“God…it’s always Taylor.”
“She is the soundtrack of my sadness,” you muttered and the guy chuckled as your eyes narrowed since the noise sounded familiar, almost comforting.
You slowly turned and spotted his hair, still sporting a bit of blonde tips from his Tom Ryder days as Colt Seavers stood next to you, beer in hand and an easy smile on his face as he mouthed some of the lyrics, really getting into it.
“And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars,” he sang and you eyed him. “And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words…Come on sweetheart, put it into words.”
“No.”
“More words than that,” he muttered and you rolled your eyes, about ready to walk away but he grabbed your arm. “Hey…I’m sorry. It’s good to see you, it's been too long.”
“It’s been three months,” you deadpanned and he chuckled, rubbing his neck.
“Dare I say that’s too long.”
“Don’t be charming,” you said and pushed past him, going over to the bar and grabbing another beer as he followed and grabbed his own, sticking close to your side like mold.
ALL fics on this will pertain to characters played by Ryan Gosling.
⋆⭒˚.⋆RYLAND GRACE⋆⭒˚.⋆
One Shots
The Fox and the Hounds
Words: 3421
Summary: On the way from Taul Ceti to Erid after saving both worlds, Grace reveals to you what happened on his last day on Earth, what Stratt never said and how even despite it all…he still doesn’t see himself as a hero…you prove him wrong.
Series
No timeline!! Waiting for the whole fic to be finished. Will be a Ryland X Reader but the fic will be set in first person and the reader will have the last name Hart. Between 60-75k and will also be posted on A03. Per chapter will be posted here on Tumblr. Maybe done by the end of August to correspond...but no promise.
The Last of the Bugs -- WIP
“Late August angst and a pointless night. Oh, and the feelin' of being alive. For the first time in a long time.”
After losing your brother to the Earth’s desperate need to fix the Petrova Line problem you decided the best option was to make them realise how wrong they are and show them what it means to mess with someone from the Hart family. But it didn’t work, you were caught by a woman named Eva Stratt and labeled a traitor, forced to be babysat by her lead scientist Dr. Ryland Grace. After a second incident paints you as a traitor, Eva puts you onboard the Hail Mary, one last prison cell and you become an unwilling member of a desperate mission to save the planet. Now light years from home and with only an amnesiac Dr. Grace as company you’re reluctant to do much of anything but wallow. But as the mission expands and a new friend joins, maybe all you needed to feel something…was to meet someone worth saving and realise what all you had, before it leaves forever.
⋆⭒˚.⋆Holland March⋆⭒˚.⋆
One Shots
Can't Live Without You
Words: 22,004
Summary: You've known Holland March since you were ten years old. He was the guy who played a little too hard and suddenly had to pay for it. When it results in a child, a daughter, he drops out of college before he can graduate and you assume you'll never see him again. But after his wife died you started a tumultuous affair and ended up seeing each other every few months, never really admitting the fact that you married a few years before. But when things in your own personal life start to go wrong, you call upon Holland, the newly minted number one PI for some assistance and find yourselves locked in a battle for not just survival but the good of all of LA.
Warning: Fic contains smut. 18+
⋆⭒˚.⋆Driver⋆⭒˚.⋆
One Shots
Still the Same
Words: 4682
Summary: When Driver ends up at a small town diner after escaping LA, he doesn't expect to meet you, the very woman who wants to leave more than anyone. When you offer him help after he refuses a doctor, you see beneath a man on the run as he tries to convince you leaving isn't that scary and maybe...all you need is a small push and a man with blue eyes and a sad little face.
⋆⭒˚.⋆Colt Seavers⋆⭒˚.⋆
One Shots
Against All Odds
Words: 18246
Summary: For years you’ve been the stunt double of your uber famous twin sister Molly, she’s the face and you’re the body who just so happens to get thrown out of a lot of windows. When she ends up getting a scene partner in the annoying as all hell star, Notch Carter, you are reintroduced to his stuntman, Colt Seavers, an ex-thing from too many years ago. It gets even more complicated when after a cast party you find Molly dead in bed in her hotel room and the worst part, there’s a note on her arm telling her to worry which means they were after you. The life of stunt people seems to be getting more and more complicated and now you and Colt have to deal with another maybe murder plot and get real close in proximity as feelings and fears begin to get in the way.
⋆⭒˚.⋆Officer K⋆⭒˚.⋆
One Shots
Human Made -- WIP
Done sometime in late July or early August.
Four years ago you were made and not born, your kind can never be born, a Nexus 9 who was given one singular task by your creator...leave. You ended up in LA and after gaining too much attention, legendary LAPD Blade Runner, Officer KD6-3.7 or K is in charge of retiring you. When he hesitates after learning you're the same and then told to back off, the two of you become locked in a battle for survival and discover something that might change everyone's idea of what it means to be human.
⋆⭒˚.⋆Lars⋆⭒˚.⋆
One Shots
Search for it I Will -- WIP
Done sometime in late July or August.
You left your old hometown in a blur, trying desperately to get away from a man who hurt you and ended up crash landing in Withers, Wisconsin. The town is small, the house you bought was sight unseen and everything feels like too much. But when a man with kind eyes offers you directions in a cafe, things might not be all that bad. Maybe you're willing to open up, to show a bit more of your heart and embrace this new home. And maybe he can be there to lend a shoulder to cry on when everything becomes too much and listen to everything that makes you upset, long into the night.
rules: go to pinterest and type in the prompts below. whatever image pops up first is your image!
prompts: color, quote, character, hobby, accessory, song lyric, flower
One could say it knows me well...not at all surprised by the character and it just so happens the quote is my personal life motto. I'm taking the hobby as music and the only one that didn't make sense was the accessory cause mine would for sure be a silver Casio Watch like I have on my wrist right now. Also the lyrics....how dare it... currently sobbing.
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RULES: if tagged, copy the questions into a new post and let us know your answers!
Tagged by the lovely @flowersforbuckymain
when did you start writing?
I started when I was 12!! Had to write a Greek myth for a class, accidentally ripped off Percy Jackson and when I had to redo it, I realized making your own fics is much more fun than copying. It started with small, barely 13 chapter books lol and now my longest original is 112,000, longest fic being a super old Clint one that is close to 140k on Wattpad. And now I have a bachelor's of English, so safe to say it stuck.
what fic do you wish could get a little more love?
All the love is more than enough 🥰. I mean the one on A03 is pretty good(ThatRandomRainbow on there haha), but the rest is so amazing. Especially the Langdon one. It has like 760 likes 😭.
first famous or fictional crush?
I don't remember hahah...I think it might have been Danny Phantom. I do know current which is def Lars from Lars and the Real Girl(fic coming soon) or good old Ryland Grace. I'm in my Ryan Gosling era 🫣
how open are you to people irl about your writing?
Everyone who knows me, knows I do it. I even send them fics haha. I have ADHD and ramble and they get caught up in my rambles, it's a problem.
what is a mundane fact about you?
I want to be a high school English teacher and I have four tattoos!!! I want many more as well haha. Also...have a Ryan because I can't think of anyone to tag 😅.
Summary: On the way from Taul Ceti to Erid after saving both worlds, Grace reveals to you what happened on his last day on Earth, what Stratt never said and how even despite it all…he still doesn’t see himself as a hero…you prove him wrong.
Warnings: Mentions of a fox hunt, mostly just fluff.
Tags: Ryland Grace, Project Hail Mary, established relationship, reader is a medical officer, fourth crew member, Rocky the best bud, after the events of the film, fluff, angst, foxes mentioned, Ryland loves foxes.
Notes: Hello and welcome to Ryland! This is a short little piece because the symbolism of foxes is so prominent in this movie that I had to. Also this is a pre-established relationship and just meant to be a fluffy little moment. Dividers by @uzmacchiato
“Late August angst, and a pointless night. Ooh, and the feeling of being alive. For the first time, in a long time.”
Somewhere Beyond Tau Ceti
The Hail Mary
The decision to go after Rocky was an easy one, one that you and Ryland didn’t have to think about that much, a choice that was split second and the easiest one you had ever had to make. He was your best friend, your saviour and without him, both Erid and Earth would die. So the fifty seven days it took to find him went by in seconds and sure you both assumed that was it, save Rocky and die on the way to Erid, your new bestie seemed certain it wouldn’t come to that, his planet was the answer. Neither you nor Ryland cared, sure you’d never get to go home but you had each other and the mutual respect that started during the preparation for the mission had blossomed into something more.
It started with small glances, looks that lingered too long and Ryland finally managed to be brave enough to say something shortly after the Adrien mission was a success. He admitted it all and while you waited for Rocky to wake up, you sat pressed against his chest and knew that nothing would ever be better than how it was at that moment. But you still had unanswered questions.
“So the coma caused the memory loss?” you asked and he nodded, writing a number on a pack of rations since he was worried you were both going to run out. “I never knew that could be a side effect.”
“Yeah…they told me it could. I guess it didn’t do it to you.”
“I guess,” you muttered and frowned, knowing enough about comas to know that was rare, they weren’t guaranteed to cause anything and he might be not telling you something.
“Grace!” Rocky called and came rolling into the room with a small trinket flailing around inside his ball. “Rocky found this in screen room. Misplaced it.”
“Oh, thank you,” he said and grabbed the small keychain after Rocky expelled it from the airlock on his ball.
“What is it?”
“It’s this,” he muttered and held up a small toy fox attached to a ring with a small chain and your eyes narrowed. “I had it on my keys, it got packed with the rest of my stuff, I guess I never noticed it was missing.”
He attached the fox back to a keyring he kept in his pocket that had some tools and a keycard used for getting into certain rooms on the Hail Mary that he locked to keep Rocky out since the Eridian liked to snoop. Sure he had stolen the card before and tried to get into various very expensive server rooms that caused headaches for the both of you, attempting to fix what he accidentally knocked over.
“I remember the fox,” you said and he looked up. “You kept it close.”
“It was a gift from a student in my first year of teaching. She told me I reminded her of a fox.”
“Why a fox?”
“They’re clever and intelligent and adaptable, it’s easy for a fox to be comfortable in a new environment. I had told that class I was there after failing at being a doctor in my profession and she claimed I didn’t, I just adapted.”
“Did you mention calling a doctor a staggering waste of carbon?”
“It never came up,” he muttered and chuckled. “But I did think she was correct. I feel like I’m good at adapting. To teaching and to this. Without that quality we probably never would’ve done anything, figured out how to fix all of this.”
“It’s a good thing you were here,” you said and Ryland nodded but you caught the look on his face like he was in disagreement.
“Grace very brave!” Rocky assured and Ryland shook his head.
“No…I’m not.”
“Yes, Grace brave! Grace choose to save Earth even though Grace might die,” Rocky assured and turned to you. “Brave as well, much like Grace. Both very brave.”
“I agree,” you said and he frowned. “I’m brave and you’re brave Ryland. We chose to do this because we knew it was the only way to save the world and we did and hopefully Erid can save us.”
“Yes, Erid save! Erid save both of you!” Rocky declared and you grinned, grabbing the fox in Ryland’s hands before he could stop you.
“Quick witted and clever! Adaptable and brave like a fox!”
“I’M NOT!” Ryland shouted and you and Rocky both froze as he stood and ripped the fox out of your hand, his eyes full of tears and walked off before you could stop him.
“What problem, question?”
“I don’t know,” you said and sighed, standing and rubbing Rocky’s ball before running after Ryland.
Way back before this whole mission started and you were standing on Earth, watching a sleeping Ryland, connected to tubes and in an induced coma much before the rest of the team. Stratt claimed it was for his own good, that he was scared about freaking out on take off so he requested to be induced early and no one batted an eye. You were already going much before Ryland was pulled in, an early volunteer and someone set to serve as both a botanist to keep the small collection of plants alive and a medical officer. You remembered meeting Ryland, a long time ago and he called you brave…he said it could never be him out there and that he was impressed.
“I could never do that, go all that way just to die at the end,” Ryland said and rubbed a hand along his neck, unsure if he had offended you.
“I got nothing waiting for me here so I might as well do something important,” you told him since you were a perfect candidate, someone with the skills and no family, no ties keeping you stuck on Earth.
“You’re also brave.”
“Really?”
“You don’t feel brave?”
“I mean I guess I am,” you said and chuckled as his cheeks reddened since he liked the sound and was starting to think he might like you. “I guess I don’t really know what bravery means. You could argue it means going all the way to Tau Ceti and participating in a suicide mission but I think it’s more than that. Maybe everyone here is brave.”
“Even those not going?” he asked and you knew he meant himself.
“You still took a chance on all of this, on this Hail Mary and you need to be pretty damn brave to be willing to do that.”
“I’m just here because of Stratt,” he admitted and chuckled.
“Sure,” you said and Ryland’s eyes narrowed. “Only because of Stratt.”
“She asked for my help.”
“And you stayed,” you said and he looked around the carrier like he was seeing it for the first time.
“I felt like I had to.”
“That sounds pretty damn brave to me, Dr. Grace,” you assured and spun around to give him one last smile before running after Yao, Illy and Dubois and leaving him to stand there and question everything.
“Ryland?” you asked and caught him sitting in the Don’t Go Crazy Room, knees curled against his chest as a view of Baikonur, the same spaceport you launched from seemed to taunt him.
He had chosen a view away from the main building by a fence in a field of grass with what looked like a rainbow poking through a cloudy sky and a small orange fox was currently bounding through the grass. You smiled and sat next to him, watching as the fox played in the grass, running through it and smiling, like he hadn’t a single care in the world. The view changed, it shifted to a group of black dogs that looked almost like hounds, standing away from the fox and the silhouette of a person you thought you recognized shortly behind them. They whistled and the dogs jumped up, running towards the fox as Ryland curled into a tighter ball and you watched in horror as they caught up and latched on, attacking the fox before it could even hope to reach the fence. Ryland tapped a button on the monitor next to him and the view paused on an empty field of grass with a tuft of orange fur blowing in the wind as he handed over the keychain with a sigh.
“I’m not brave,” he muttered and looked up, eyes red with tears. “I didn’t choose this, I wanted to stay.”
“What?”
“Stratt asked me to go and I said no, I refused and told her that I wasn’t brave, I was nothing but a teacher who got dragged into all of this and didn’t want to become important. I had never felt like someone who mattered to Project Hail Mary, I was just me, Ryland Grace, the middle school teacher who just so happened to be a bit clever one day. But I was the last one left after Dubois and Shapiro…they needed me.”
“But you said no…”
“I said no,” he said and sighed, pulling off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. “She called me a coward, that I was killing a quarter of the population and yet…I didn’t care. I didn’t and then Stratt revealed the decision part of the decision was fake, she was sending me anyway.”
“So you ran,” you said and he nodded. “You ran and it felt like you were a fox…”
“They used to use dogs to hunt them. The dogs would lock on to the scent of a fox and rip it apart in seconds, I felt like that. I got slammed to the ground and the grass hit my cheek and I knew I was never going to see it again, that was it. So I grabbed on and held tight like it could save me as the world laughed and a rainbow lit up the sky, one final farewell. I’m not brave…I’m a fox who ran from dogs and couldn’t get away…I got ripped apart.”
“But a lot has happened since that,” you said and he nodded. “You also got the Taumoeba from Adrian and communicated with an actual alien and saved two worlds rather than one. Sure you didn’t feel brave…but you became it.”
“Because I had to…”
“No,” you said and his eyes narrowed. “Because it took until Tau Ceti to finally find something to be brave for. You’re like me, no family back on Earth to worry about and sure I left just to do something, just to say I did something beyond my years…you needed a bit more convincing.”
“A bit?”
“You needed to be in the moment. Be someplace where you were brave because brave was the only thing you could be. That’s what you told Rocky, you called yourself brave, it’s the reason he knows the word. He promised you a way home because he thinks of you as the bravest human he has ever met.”
You reached over Ryland, getting close and caught his blush even after so many weeks of closeness and switched the view to a beach in San Francisco, the fog hanging low in the air as the waves crashed against the beach. Just for the hell of it, you pressed another button and the same fox that got chased appeared on the shore and walked over to the edge and sat down like he hadn’t a care in the world, no dogs looming over him.
“Foxes aren’t in San Francisco.”
“I’m trying to make a point,” you said and he chuckled as you snuggled closer. “Think of all that you’ve done, not what you didn’t do.”
“I lied to you. The coma didn’t cause the memory loss, she did.”
“I figured it out after you said what happened. You threatened to ruin all of this?”
“I did,” he admitted and sniffled. “I was going to wake up and ruin everything but this way I wouldn’t remember wanting to do that, I’d just remember wanting to save the planet and it worked, I did it.”
“You also remembered me,” you said and he nodded in agreement.
“I remembered when you called me brave for being a part of the project, even as a scientist.”
“You had to be to believe in it and you did.”
“Less it…more you,” he admitted and you chuckled.
“And yet you kept your mouth shut.”
“It felt like it wasn’t the right time. You were going to go off and be brave and I was going to sit there at home, staring at the sun and hoping it wasn’t going to kill me one day.”
“Adrian almost did.”
“That was not planned,” he said and reached up, pressing a few buttons and a second fox appeared, running after the first, bounding over the beach and the waves. “You said I found someone to be brave for but maybe that someone was myself. I needed to be brave for me, so I could make it and I did. I managed to give it my all and breed the Taumeoba and save both planets and get through all of this. I was the reason I stepped up and made it happen, I needed someone to be brave for me…”
“And that someone was you,” you said and he nodded, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tight. “Did you tell Stratt in that video we were going after Rocky?”
“Yeah she knows.”
“The last time she saw you, you were running away, trying to escape your destiny and yet when the Beatles return she’ll see that you ran again…not away…”
“But towards,” Ryland supplied and you nodded as his chest heaved and you looked up to find the guy was crying. “I’m sorry.”
“No…don’t be,” you sat up a bit further, wrapping him in a hug as he sobbed into your shoulder, pulling you so close it hurt as his chest heaved, sobs racking his body. “You’re a fox because you’re clever. You escaped the dogs hunting you, maybe not on Earth but here and soon we’ll be on Erid where no dog can ever get at you ever again.”
“I made it,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper and you sat back, hands gripping the side of his face as you brushed the tears off his cheeks with your thumbs. “We made it.”
“We did. We made it for us and for Rocky.”
“Rocky agree.”
You both turned and sure enough he was also in the Don’t Go Crazy Room, sitting in his ball in the far corner and you wondered how long he had been there.
“Rocky…how long have you been sitting there.”
“Not long.”
“Rocky?”
“Whole time,” he admitted and you chuckled. “Rocky wanted to make sure Grace and you were okay. Heard all.”
“All of it?”
“Grace still brave,” Rocky assured and rolled over as you moved so he could bump the edge of the ball against his foot. “Earth force Grace to go because Grace best choice. Force not nice but best choice is nice. Best choice is correct.”
“Really?”
“Grace saved Erid and Earth.”
“Dubois could have done it,” Ryland said and Rocky shook his carapace in disagreement.
“Other human could have but other human not here…Grace here. Sure Grace have companion to help but…”
“He did most of it,” you admitted and Ryland rolled his eyes. “I was a cheerleader.”
“Rocky used Earth machine to look up fox and you forgot a meaning.”
“Which one?”
“Fox mean resilience.”
“They do,” you said and remembered looking it up a while ago, always a fan of what things meant in other cultures and went on a deep dive after spotting the keychain on his keys.
“Resilience…the ability to come back.”
“To reshape after bending out of it,” you added and Rocky nodded. “Maybe we’re all foxes.”
“Might be,” Ryland agreed and reached over to the panel, adding a third fox, a smaller one that was a bit darker in colour and Rocky bobbed up and down in appreciation.
“Amaze!” he said and handed over a small figure made of xenonite, not unlike the little Ryland he made when you first met. “Gift.”
“What is it?” you asked and Ryland picked it up, smiling wide and showed it off to you. “A fox.”
“Like Grace.”
“Like me,” Ryland agreed and stared down at the small Rocky made fox, resting in his palm with the other one.
One a gift from Stratt to remember himself after she stole it away and the other a marker that he had finally found it again, right there in that room full of screens as three virtual foxes bounded over virtual sand without a care in the world. No hounds loomed over the three of them, no worry of a suicide mission they’d be forced to participate in and no uncertainty about whether or not they were brave. A long time ago now, Ryland ran away from his problems and faced the consequences, he got dragged onto the Hail Mary against his will and forced onto a death mission and ended up all the way from home with only you as a companion. Sure he wasn’t mad about that part for a reason he never really understood but now he got it, even more than when he realised he liked you…you were the person that started it all…the very first to ever call him brave.
Maybe you were both foxes, brave, resilient, resourceful creatures who had used their collective smarts to save two entire planets and were currently on their way to see a whole new one and hope that it could save them too. If not…Ryland was fine with it, he had made peace and for real that time and had noticed that you had fallen asleep on his lap, curled into a ball with one hand resting on Rocky’s xenonite ball.
“Grace tired, question?”
“Overwhelmed.”
“Sleep…Rocky watch. Rocky always watch.”
“I know.”
“Grace brave.”
Ryland smiled, wiped a tear from his eyes and leaned against the wall of screens, using his sweater as a pillow and placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it tight as you smiled in your sleep, looking content. Safe.
“I know.”
The three foxes on the screen had stopped, curled into a ball and were currently asleep, also looking like they hadn’t a care in the world and the sound of the waves hitting the beach lulled him to sleep as Rocky watched. A collection of individuals who were braver than they realised and had saved not only an entire two planets full of other individuals…but also themselves.
“Dr. Grace, I’d like you to meet the Hail Mary’s medical officer,” Stratt said and introduced you to Ryland who was dressed in a plush looking knit cardigan and a shirt with a pun on it, glasses hanging from his chin.
“Nice to meet you,” you said and shook his hand as he smiled and did the same, going to adjust his glasses once you pulled back.
“You as well. You’re going to Tau Ceti?”
“I am.”
“Wow…that’s impressive, all that way.”
“The Earth needs saving and I have the gene for it. I don’t have anything for me here on Earth.”
“What about…”
“The suicide part?”
“Yeah…”
“It’s a small price to pay for 7 billion people.”
“Wow…that’s…that’s very brave.”
“I guess,” you said and smiled, looking over his outfit. “I love that sweater.”
“Oh thanks…thrift store find.”
“Those are foxes right?”
“They’re kind of my thing,” he said and held up a keychain where a small fox was hanging from it.
“They’re very adaptable creatures, full of resilience and cleverness.”
“It’s why I love them.”
“I’ll buy myself a fox to take with me, I need that kind of resilience.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great,” he assured and you nodded.
“Maybe.”
“Just gotta remember to be brave, to make it through and trust in yourself that you can.”
“Be like a fox,” you said and he nodded in agreement.
“Be like a fox,” he agreed and offered to show you what he was working on and you nodded, spending hours in that lab, thoroughly engrossed in what he had to say and taking his advice to heart.
Be brave like a fox…trust yourself and remember that you can make it.
And make it you did. Curled up against Ryland’s side on the way to Erid in that room of screens, resting a cheek on a cardigan covered in foxes.
I feel like liking Ryan Gosling is a challenge sometimes haha...because when you get into his more niche roles the amount of fanfiction...dies...especially for K, his character in Blade Runner 2049.
The K X Reader tag while it has some...is so lacking...it hurts. I want more!!! It might be because it's from 2017 and niche sequel sci-fi but come on...not only is the movie incredible but his sad little face is so cute. Am I going to be writing my own to combat the lack of it...of course I am...my goal is to write one fic for each Ryan character I adore...below are my ideas...
Already Written(I write for a fem reader)
Holland March: Can't Live Without You (Smut) 22k+
Driver: Still the Same 4.4k+
Ryland Grace: 55k longfic on A03(linked on profile, X OC not reader)
Ideas and Drafts:
Officer K x A Female Replicant Reader
-AU without 2049. K lives, very protector core, one bed, Joi lite as well.
Name: Human Made
Words: Around 12-14k(might be longer)
Four years ago you were made and not born, your kind can never be born, a Nexus 9 who was given one singular task by your creator...leave. You ended up in LA and after gaining too much attention, legendary LAPD Blade Runner, Officer KD6-3.7 or K is in charge of retiring you. When he hesitates after learning you're the same and then told to back off, the two of you become locked in a battle for survival and discover something that might change everyone's idea of what it means to be human.
Others:
-----I also have an idea for Lars from Lars and the Real Girl where you head to his small town for an escape and bond over past trauma and sweaters. (It will be very fluffy, very cute, very ace coded Lars.)
-----Even a Ken idea where you are Jealous Barbie, designed to like Ken but can never have him until the guy realizes he wants to be more than himself and maybe you can as well. Very funny, idiots in love.
-----Colt ideas have been floating around, feel free to request some Colt ideas! Even a long one. I have one planned and partially written but idk...Colt is not a fav of Ryan's so...it's harder for me.
-----Also feel free to send a Ryland request as well, I love writing ace coded Ryland but make him romantic.
Long story short...I want more K and will write myself some....I hope it won't take long and all my fellow K lovers will also enjoy it and what's come.
I mean look at him...
How could you not write for him...couldn't be me....watch the fic hit 30k...it could. I'll see you when it's done.
I haven't been around tumblr in a bit haha...got swept up by Ryan Gosling and have also watched almost his entire collection of movies...I have 2 left....but among that I am planning a fic....IDK how many people have seen the Nice Guys but Holland March has stolen my heart. Be PREPARED. It'll be 70s, it'll be murder, it'll be horny, it'll be awesome and it will also be 20k words long when I set my goal for 8....HEH...But if you like Ryan and like comedy, watch the Nice Guys then come read it LOL!
That's Holland March btw...ain't he a cutey. Let me know if you wanna be tagged.
Also I checked and the longest fic for him is 3.5k....
So....Synopsis below the cut!!!
Can't Live Without You
Holland March X Fem Reader
"Baby come back, any kind of fool could see. There was something in everything about you. Baby come back, you can blame it all on me. I was wrong and I just can't live without you."
You've known Holland March since you were ten years old and always thought of him as the jokester and the slacker, the guy who played a little too hard and suddenly had to pay for it. When it results in a child, a daughter, he drops out of college before he can graduate and you assume you'll never see him again. But after his wife died you started a tumultuous affair and ended up seeing each other every few months, never really admitting any feelings or admitting the fact that you married a few years before. But when things in your own personal life start to go wrong, you call upon Holland, the newly minted number one PI for some assistance and find yourselves locked in a battle for not just survival but the good of all of LA. Now you and Holland have another shot, another hope to reconnect and as you follow the clues and uncover a conspiracy, things get increasingly more dicey and lines slowly start to blur.
Can't Live Without You -- Holland March X Fem!Reader
Ryan Gosling Masterlist
Pairing: Holland March x Female Reader
Words: 22,004(WELLLLL)
Summary: You've known Holland March since you were ten years old. He was the guy who played a little too hard and suddenly had to pay for it. When it results in a child, a daughter, he drops out of college before he can graduate and you assume you'll never see him again. But after his wife died you started a tumultuous affair and ended up seeing each other every few months, never really admitting the fact that you married a few years before. But when things in your own personal life start to go wrong, you call upon Holland, the newly minted number one PI for some assistance and find yourselves locked in a battle for not just survival but the good of all of LA.
Warnings: SMUT. Soft smut(PIV, couch sex, fem parts mentioned for you the reader but not described in detail, does fade to black in a sense.) Bit of subHolland, DomReader. But it's very light. Also...blood, injuries, murder and you as the reader cheated on your husband with Holland(I assure you the husband deserves it), also you commit a murder and attack a man. Swearing, drinking and generally NSFW themes(porn mainly) throughout. MDNI 18+
Tags: Holland March, old friend reader, married reader(not for long), ex-fling Holland, you have an affair with him and it's been on for a while, humour, fluff, bit of angst. Holly March and Jackson Healy both appear but are not central, very you and Holland centered. You call Holland "Land" and he calls you "Sugar". No Y/N used.
Notes: Oh my Lord it's here...this has been a lot haha...my longest ONESHOT to date!!! And it's for Holland March. I did manage to add my smut and it does fade to black, so it's a soft smut but I hope you still like it. God I love this man and this...enjoy the longest Holland March fic now on Tumblr and I HOPE someone will beat me. Dividers used by: @kodaswrld
Can't Live Without You
"Baby come back, any kind of fool could see. There was something in everything about you. Baby come back, you can blame it all on me. I was wrong and I just can't live without you."
Los Angeles, 1978
There was something about LA that you hated. It wasn't the traffic or the heat or the fact that everyone felt like a social climber on a good day but something rooted deep within the bones of the city. Maybe it was the fact that despite a promise you made to go see the world you didn't. You graduated from UCLA with a bachelors of English and a hope to teach it and eleven years later were a housewife who spent all day doing nothing. It wasn't your choice, it was your husband's since he claimed no wife of his deserves to sit around and work. But you wished you could put that degree to good use and even had gone all the way to a Masters with a professor position within grasp but he just wouldn't budge.
Jeremy Gibson was a man of tradition, he liked having a housewife around to make him coffee and fetch him beer in the evening. You just had to ignore that he was an asshole and was hiding a whole other life in San Francisco. You found out ages ago but could care less, Jeremy didn't care about you and you didn't care about him. The marriage was transactional at that point, he paid for everything you wanted and all you had to do was keep your mouth shut. But it didn’t mean that you had to like it and woke up with a sigh, running a hand through your hair and not being surprised that half of the bed was empty. Jeremy had mentioned something about a conference and that he would be home late and you assumed even yesterday that it meant he wasn’t coming home.
“Mrs. Gibson?”
“I’m awake,” you muttered and looked over at Cindy, your housekeeper who was standing in the doorway, a smile on her face. “Where’s Jeremy?”
“He’s away. Phoned early this morning, won’t be back until dinner.”
“Did he say why?”
“Conference in San Francisco," she said and you rolled your eyes knowing that meant he had spent the night at his affairs house, some smiling blonde who accidentally phoned a while back and couldn’t keep a conversation going.
“Of course, I guess I’ll see him tomorrow or the next day, maybe a week from now.”
“He told me to wish you a good morning.”
“Did he?”
“No,” she admitted and you always appreciated how honest Cindy was.
“Thank you for the honesty,” you said and stood, stretching out and grabbing a shower as she went about her tasks, cleaning up the bed and making it look nice which was an easier task without Jeremy being there.
Your mind went back to yesterday, waving goodbye as Jeremy left for his supposed conference and actually managing to get yourself out of the house and meet up with someone who rarely came around. The one person who was most concerned about your marriage to Jeremy was your brother, Will, a cop for the LAPD who had heard stories about him and his family and had this idea that your marriage was some kind of scam or Jeremy worked for the mafia. In the last eight years none of that had ever been proven, you just existed in his orbit and handed him beer to keep him happy and occasionally got to drain a bit of his funds on clothes you didn’t need. But Will was still positive that something was going wrong and you met up with him at a restaurant you both adored and far enough outside of town that Jeremy wouldn’t accidentally walk through the door.
“What have you got this time?” you asked as he sat down, squinting at his menu since it was one of those places where the lighting was too dark for the atmosphere.
“It’s not another uncertain, maybe a lie that some guy told me in a bar…this could be real.”
“Unlike the last time?” you asked and remembered the last big story about your married family he was certain was true a few months back.
“This is different. This is less about Jeremy himself and more his company. Gibson has been in hot water for a while but I was called to Modesto because they had another death at a factory using their equipment. This is the fourth in the last two years and I know it may seem unconnected and this happens a lot at these places but this…it can’t be a coincidence.”
“Gibson has been shit for years, this doesn’t change anything. It’s just another death.”
“I know…But I have more than just this, I have real evidence from a real source.”
“Where?”
“At home,” he muttered and you sighed. “Look…come over tomorrow and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Will…”
“I know but trust me, this is the big one, it could change everything.”
“You really think one measly little story can take down all of Gibson.”
“This one can,” he assured and you sighed but gave him a nod and ordered a much too expensive salad as he talked about what else was happening in his life, his fiance Leah and you added in small snippets, nothing ever that interesting happening in yours.
The lunch with Will made you think about what he could have found from Jeremy’s company, Gibson Manufacturing which made heavy machinery for factories in California and a few other states. They had been under fire for a while, a few deaths over the last decade had been tied to faulty equipment and Jeremy had gotten excellent at sweeping things under the rug. The last few cases he had left to his sister, Moira, the real brains behind the entire operation and you dodged her questions about where you had been since she would not be the biggest fan of Will if she heard what he was up to. She already didn’t like him, claiming your half of the family was a bit like mold, it stuck around when you didn’t want it to and was extra hard to get rid of.
“Mrs. Gibson?”
“Are you done Cindy?”
“No…but there was a phone call for you.”
“From?”
“Leah.”
“I’ll call her back.”
You slipped out of the shower, dried off and dressed in an outfit that Jeremy would not approve of, a simple sweater and some black jeans before grabbing the phone and dialling the number you had on file for Will’s apartment. He had been engaged and living with Leah for what felt like longer than they had been together, constantly putting off marriage because they didn’t need a ceremony and a priest to know they were in love. You admired it and secretly wished that Jeremy had the same idea and it would be a lot easier to leave without him plunging you into financial ruin.
“Sugar?” Leah asked and your heart warmed at the nickname.
“Yeah hun, how are you?”
“Good…I’m…” Leah sniffled and your eyes narrowed since she was stronger than anyone, you, Will, never the crier even when her mom passed.
“What’s wrong…”
“Did Willy see you yesterday?”
“We went for lunch, he said he had some news about Gibson and I was going to meet him today, get some notes he had.”
“He didn’t come home last night and you know Will, he works all over and sometimes doesn’t feel like it but he said he was and I got worried and called a buddy at the precinct who went looking and they found him…”
“Where?”
“At a hotel he liked…about twenty minutes from home…he was…they found him…”
“Leah…speak…where did they find him.”
“In the bathtub…they’re ruling it a suicide…apparently he was working too hard…he had a needle in his arm and some extra supplies in his room…”
“Wait…suicide,” you repeated and she sniffled. “Leah…”
“He’s dead, Sugar. Will is dead,” she said and you dropped to the bed, grateful there was a phone in the master and stared at the door like it could do anything to make things better.
“I’ll…I’ll come by tomorrow.”
“Not today?”
“Get his buddies to look into it and let me know if they find anything, I’m sorry Leah. I’m…I’m so sorry.”
“Sugar…”
You hung up the phone with a slam and dug around in the bedside table before pulling out a small slip of paper shoved in a book that you knew Jeremy would never touch. It was a business card, gifted to you by a very old friend a handful of years ago, one you ended up meeting up with every once and a while and needed at that moment. You and Will weren’t close, hadn’t been since you were kids, he was a handful of years younger and a whole lot more impulsive, a lot of thoughts with too little time and it made him snappy and short tempered. But when you had the chance, when plans aligned and Will needed someone to bounce his millions of ideas off of, you were always there, at dinner and brunch and breakfast, any restaurant he needed.
It could change everything.
“What could,” you muttered and dialed the number, blinking back tears and praying that he’d answer and someone did.
“Hello?”
“Uh…I’m looking for Holland March?”
“He’s not here. Can I take a message?”
“You are?”
“Jackson Healy, a business partner.”
“Oh…Can you just tell Land that I’ll be at Marianne's tonight around 8pm and if he wants, he can meet me there, same place as always.”
“Land?”
“An old nickname, don’t use it on him, he secretly hates it.”
“And you are?”
“Call me Sugar, he knows me,” you assured and Healy muttered something about making sure Holland got it as you sighed and shoved the phone back on the receiver with a loud sigh, ringing your hands out, mind still going a million miles a minute.
“Mrs. Gibson?”
“I’m going out.”
“Oh…uh…did Jeremy schedule a meeting or something?”
“No, this is just for me,” you said and walked back into the closet, eager to change, to dress in something a little more fitting for a meeting with someone you were trying to ignore your feelings for.
“Oh…you look nice,” Cindy admitted when you walked out dressed in black pants that were flared right at the ankles, a flowing red and orange top and some wedges.
“Thank you,” you said and added a head scarf, tying it around and grabbing your purse before heading out the door and taking a seat in a car that Jeremy always had waiting for you just in case. “Marianne’s.”
“Meeting Jeremy?” Harris, a longtime friend and well paid driver, asked and you shrugged.
“Sure. Let’s say I am.”
“Very well, Sugar,” he said and pulled out of the driveway as you smiled and leaned back in the seat, always eager to spend some time alone with him, easily the one guy in that house who understood it all.
A long time ago, way back in elementary school you ended up befriending a kid who had just moved to LA and was being bullied, attacked for no other reason than the fact that he was different. You took pity on him, easily as different and eager to attempt to make a new friend and it worked and you stayed together, thick as thieves till you went off to college. Sure the dynamic changed, things got a bit awkward and it got even worse when two years into your time at college he announced that he had fucked up, got an exchange student pregnant and was running off to marry her so she could stay.
That was years back and in the time since you had been meeting off to the side, first as friends so he could tell you about his daughter and then as more when his wife died in a fire and he needed someone to take his mind off it. That man was Holland March, the one you phoned and were currently waiting for as you sipped a glass of vodka and hoped it would take your mind off everything.
“The usual?”
“Always,” you said and the ageless bartender of the Marianne, Hurley Rhodes, chuckled and topped off your drink, adding more vodka than cranberry. “Thank you. I needed some liquid courage.”
“Meeting March again?”
“It’s a cycle. I meet March, I need vodka, I come back afterwards for more,” you said and sipped the drink, letting out a cough.
“You know…I have never understood why you need vodka to meet your own husband.”
“What?” you asked and stared at Hurley, eyes wide.
“He’s your husband right?”
“No,” you said and his eyes narrowed.
“Huh…I always thought, you’re so close.”
“We meet up like maybe three times a year.”
“I thought it was a bit, some kind of sex thing, pretending to be meeting at a bar and playing pool and despite the bet you always end up upstairs.”
“God dammit…how long have you thought that? Since the first time like 5 years back?”
“Guilty,” he admitted and you leaned forward, resting your forehead on the bar with a loud groan. “Hey, at least you look cute together.”
“Yeah but it’s not…we’re not…”
“Then what are you?”
“Casual,” you shot back and he laughed. “Seriously. We meet to blow off some steam. He goes back to his life and I go back to mine and it all gets forgotten till we meet again a few months later. It’s easy and fun and I like it because there’s no…ties, it’s free.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“It’s not, it’s great,” you said and downed the glass of 90% vodka, 10% cranberry before nodding for another as Hurley rolled his eyes but complied.
“Hey, leave some in this bar for me.”
You rolled your eyes and turned, bringing the drink with you to spot the one and only Holland March standing behind you, eyes lit up in a grin as he stood with his hands on his hips, a cigarette hanging loosely from the side of his mouth. He had never really changed, forever dressed in suits of various colours, this time burgundy and patterned shirts that were unbuttoned just enough that you could spot the white tank he wore underneath. His hair was the usual version of shaggy but well groomed he preferred and that darn mustache on his top lip, easily the most groomed thing on the man’s entire body.
Land had always been easy to get along with, he was a joker who didn’t take a lot seriously, minus his daughter and you forever thought of a billion in one what if scenarios if he didn’t fuck up and end up a dad at twenty. But Holland was also not the type of guy to turn tail and run and he stayed when his one night stand got pregnant, told you he felt compelled and you let him go, knew it had to be done and Land was too stubborn to leave her.
“There’s plenty, Land,” you assured and he rolled his eyes at the nickname.
When you first met Holland you claimed his name was weird and he admitted to never having a good nickname since Holly made him sound like a girl and he didn’t like Hol…for various reasons. You had settled on Land and it had been a moniker you used whenever you felt like annoying him since he secretly hated it but had always been fond of you. You, his sweet spot which is why he called you Sugar and why it stuck even so many years later.
“I better hope so, Sugar,” he said and grabbed a beer as you chuckled, relaxing, allowing your shoulders to slump since Holland made it better.
“Grab that beer and follow me,” you said and he did as told, following you through the small bar and over to your usual pool table as you ignored the look Hurley shot your way.
“Why the up and up?”
“Hurley disclosed that he assumed we were married,” you said and Holland nearly choked on his drink as you grabbed the cues. “He’s assumed it for the last four years.”
“Since we started?”
“Correct.”
“Why would a married couple meet at a bar every couple months?”
“He assumed it was some kind of sex thing,” you muttered and ignored the look on his face. “Land.”
“He’s not wrong,” he shot back and racked the pool balls as you rolled your eyes.
“Sure…it’s a sex thing but we’re not married.”
“Hey if I married you, I’d still do this,” he said and lit the cigarette still in his mouth as you stared, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “Don’t like the idea?”
“This is nothing more than a meeting every few months, we can’t be anything more.”
“You have said that before, Sugar,” he said and let out a dry chuckle as you nodded since Land had confessed his feelings a few times, usually when drunk and always two seconds before the sex thing assumption came true.
Sure this whole meet up was an excuse to get laid every few months by a man you actually liked but it would never be anything more than that, it couldn’t be. You were already cheating by being there and sure Jeremy had a whole other family in another city and maybe even a few of them but Holland didn’t deserve the lies. A pit of guilt appeared after every single one of these meetings and you had been meaning to tell him since this all started and you ran into him at that very bar shortly after his wife died in a fire. He was lost and needed an excuse to have some fun and Jeremy was an asshole you wanted to avoid so it turned into a win-win situation. You both got what you wanted and maybe one day you’d leave him, be a couple with a guy who actually liked you like Hurley was suggesting.
“Look we’re just here to have some fun and talk about life,” you said and Holland nodded, pulling out a quarter. “Heads.”
“Tails,” he said after he flipped it and you sighed, letting him go first and he broke the collection of pool balls, shooting a striped six into a pocket and claiming it as his collection to go for. “So what are we playing for?”
“What we always play for.”
“A room,” he shot back and you chuckled.
“We always play for a room.”
“And we always end up in one. But this is for who pays.”
“On,” you said and lined up a shot, knocking in a solid coloured four before pointing your cue at him. “Your shot March.”
“No Land?”
“I mean business,” you said and he laughed, grabbing a sip of his beer and shooting off another shot as you rolled your eyes.
“Never change, Sugar.”
“So…I called and your business partner answered. Jackson.”
“Oh yeah, he won’t let the nickname go by the way. He keeps calling me Land cause he knows it bugs me.”
“What is the story with him?”
“We worked a case last year and stuck together, call ourselves the Nice Guys and it’s been good, the business is good. People are always shady and bodies always turn up so Healy and I never have to worry about being unemployed for too long.”
“You actually have a steady job.”
“I always did, it just depended on clients.”
“And how is Holly with all of this?” you asked and smiled at the thought of his daughter, now fourteen but she acted like she owned the world.
“She’s great. Smart too. Too smart.”
“Does she keep telling you how to run your business?”
“Always. She critiques my adverts and my clients and my clothes. I can’t escape her, she’s like a clone of Marie.”
You frowned at the mention of his wife, Marie from England who had moved to LA for UCLA and charmed him at a bar which felt like years ago now. She was incredible, a real smart alack and one of the only people to ever keep him in line and make him settle. But a fire broke out because of faulty wiring and she died and he went looking for company and found you practically by accident. You were alone at a bar because your husband was an ass and he was alone because it was the only thing he could be. You needed each other and hadn’t stopped.
“How did she take it?”
“She was upset. Still visits that old plot but there’s nothing there, not even debris, they cleared it up. Sometimes I worry that she’s holding onto the past too much, and won't let it go.”
“She’s a kid, she’s got years to grieve.”
“I guess they have that luxury,” he said and dropped one more ball in a pocket before all that was left was the 8 ball, waiting for one of you to sink it. “So…”
“Oh I got this,” you said and lined up your shot but it went wide and Holland barked out a laugh. “Take it away.”
“You are never beating me, Sugar,” he said and sank the last ball with a wide grin as you rolled your eyes and pulled out enough to cover the room from your wallet and handed it over since Holland bought one on his way in. “Thank you.” He leaned against the pool table and eyed you, watching as you grabbed your drink and sipped it slow, eyes narrowed. “Is anything the matter?”
“No…just…life’s a lot.”
“Well now you have a room, a guy and a whole lot of time.”
“Too much time,” you agreed and placed the glass on a bar height table, stepping closer to him and draping your arms around his neck as his smile only got wider.
“We should do this more.”
“You say that everytime.”
“I’m serious…screw once every three months, we could do it once a week, twice a week…”
“Land…”
“Everyday,” he muttered and you sighed, pulling away from him, curling your arms around yourself. “Sorry…I know we can’t and you still won’t tell me why.”
“I know…It’s just…”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind. One night is fine but maybe we can hang out, do something that doesn’t involve a pool table and beer.”
“Maybe…But for now…”
“For now, this is great.”
“I’m glad,” you said and stepped closer, inviting him in and ignoring the hesitation.
You knew that Holland wanted more, he wanted a real relationship and a shot at not always hanging out at the same raggedy bar with cheap beer and pool. He wanted you above all else, you to be happy and to make a life together, one he had been looking for since his wife died. It would be easy to tell him everything, to admit what had happened in the past eight years and maybe he’d even help you get enough dirt on Jeremy to make a divorce look easy. But you were scared, worried he wouldn’t take it all that well and you’d lose the one thing that made life a little easier every couple of months. But for now you still had him, still had what made life worth it and sure you left him sleeping in that hotel bed at 3am, peaceful and oblivious there was still a hope that maybe one day you could stay.
For once the house was quiet when you got home since normally Jeremy had people over, buddies from his college days who used his house as an escape from their wives and their children. Normally they spent the evening screaming about whatever sport was on TV and yelling at you to grab more beer but the living room was silent, the massive house was peaceful and you sighed in relief before slipping off your shoes.
“Where were you?”
“Out,” you shot back and turned to find Jeremy leaning on the banister, beer in hand. “I was with a friend.”
“Who?”
“She was from school.”
“I know all your friends.”
“Not this one,” you shot back and tried to move past him but he grabbed your arm, pulling you close.
“Who?”
“Her name is Holly, we met in college and I reached out, wanted to tell her something.”
“What?”
“That my brother died yesterday. Holly was there for support.”
“Will died?”
“Don’t bullshit me Jeremy, you knew,” you shot back and ripped your hand free, ignoring the marks he left and heading upstairs.
“I didn’t know.”
“He was looking into Gibson and you felt threatened and had him killed, you know. Will was found with drugs and that man was straight as a board, he would never stoop that low and you know that.”
“I swear I didn’t do anything. Hun…please.”
“Screw off, I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered and moved to head into the master but he was quicker and slammed your shoulder against the wall, locking you in place. “Jeremy.”
“No…let me speak,” he shot back and you didn’t like the look in his eyes, how bloodshot they were, like he had been acting like an idiot for too many hours before you got there. “I paid for this house and all your stuff and you have the audacity of accusing me of killing Will. I don’t know what fucking high horse you think you’re on, but you’re not better than me.”
“I never said that.”
“You think it,” he shot back and you frowned. “You think I’m some big loser and I know that Holly claim is bullshit. You were with fucking Holland March.”
“How…”
“I have people everywhere, sweetheart,” he deadpanned and shoved you off him. “I know you see him all the time, at Marianne’s and sneak out and head here so this big dumb idiot thinks you’re just late and not fucking some other guy. How long, huh? How long?”
“As long as your girl in San Francisco,” you shot back and he chuckled.
“Oh that.”
“Yes that, don’t accuse me of being a cheater when you’re one as well.”
“Yeah but the difference is that I have a stake in all of this, if you go down, oh well but me…I have the money and the assets and the company that lets you parade around and do nothing.”
“I don’t want to do nothing!” you shouted and he frowned. “I wanted to be a professor at UCLA like I planned but I made the mistake of marrying your sorry ass.”
“Then leave.”
“You won’t let me,” you said and he chuckled, drinking the rest of the beer and tossing the bottle off the second floor landing as your eyes narrowed.
“No I won’t,” he agreed and rushed forward, grabbing your neck and holding tight as your eyes went wide and he backed you against the railing. “Don’t see Holland anymore, don’t even go out, just sit and behave like you agreed. That’s why you married me, for an easy life. Here it is.”
“Get off,” you choked out but he held strong.
“Beg me for it.”
“Over your dead body,” you muttered and kicked him in the shin which caused him to stumble and you just managed to get out of his hold.
It was like fate was on your side since Jeremy slipped, still drunk or high or whatever he was and crashed through the railing on the second floor landing that looked out onto the massive foyer. You always found it overkill and dangerous, asked him to install a half wall years back but he never did and was paying for the consequences of his own actions. You could have reached out, could have grabbed him but a very large part of you sighed in relief when he tipped back and fell, suddenly helpless. You turned so you didn’t have to watch but heard the noise he made when he hit the marble floors and knew there was nothing left, or at least would be nothing left very soon and after a decade of him being an asshole it was over. Jeremy didn’t trust cameras so he never had them installed meaning you had a fool proof excuse, that someone broke in, attacked you and he died defending you, got knocked off the balcony as a complete fluke.
“Mrs. Gibson?”
“Shit,” you breathed out and peaked over the rail just as Cindy walked in and screamed.
“MR. GIBSON!” she cried and was at his side in seconds as you breathed in a few times, getting yourself worked up and hoped that tears would follow, that you could at least act like you were upset.
“Cindy!” you called and got up, running downstairs and staring in shock at Jeremy who was a bit bloodier than you expected.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes...God…thanks to him,” you said and breathed in deep. “These men broke in, attacked me and Jeremy stepped in but one threw off that landing, I told him I didn’t trust it.”
“Where’d they go?”
“They uh…ran off about ten minutes before you got here.”
“I’ll call Moira and the police, they’ll want to know about this and someone will have to take him.”
“Is he?” you asked but already knew the answer since part of Jeremy had splashed the door.
“Yes. I mean…”
“Let’s assume,” you said and she nodded as you sank onto the bottom step and watched Cindy run off to grab the phone and call Moira as you looked down at bruises along your arms that Jeremy caused, grateful he was so rough for once and basically painted his own confession.
“God dammit.”
You looked up and Moira was standing in the doorway since she lived in an equally big house right next door and found herself over at yours more often than not. She was the bigger sister, the one who wouldn’t stop babying Jeremy despite his age and kept him in line as the true owner and leader of Gibson Manufacturing. She didn’t look shocked to see him dead, more so annoyed and wandered over, poking his body with the tip of her heel like he was a misplaced piece of decor. She had always been intimidating, all fancy clothes and perfect hair and lips painted a shade of red you swore rivalled blood. She had this quiet precision and acted like everything she came across made her upset, including the fact that her brother was dead.
“Who did it?”
“I didn’t see them.”
“Of course Jeremy doesn’t use cameras,” she muttered and finally looked at you. “Are you hurt?”
“Just a couple bruises. He really stepped up,” you said and she scoffed.
“That got him killed.”
“Ms. Gibson…”
“No Cindy, don’t call anyone. I have men who can handle this, what we need is someone to get to the bottom of this. I have a friend over at the LAPD who’s in my good books, maybe they’ll do it for free.”
“I have someone,” you said and she narrowed her eyes. “He’s a PI, knows me and I know him. I can get him here.”
“I can get someone to grab him. What’s the name?”
“Holland March, he works with a guy named Jackson Healy but we only need Holland.”
“He’ll be here by tomorrow. Don’t touch anything in Jeremy’s office, I assume they were after something in there. Your PI can look into it.”
“I might as well assist, I did see them,” you muttered and Moira scoffed.
“Whatever, I just need it done and the floors cleaned.”
“You’re not upset?” you asked and she scoffed, lighting a cigarette.
“He had it coming,” she shot back and walked out of the room, leaving you and Cindy who had always been a Jeremy fan and was taking it a lot harder than you were.
“Go home Cindy, you can be off for a bit.”
“Are you alright?”
“I will be when I know more,” you assured and she nodded, walking over and giving you a tight hug as you sighed and headed upstairs, not even bothering to change and just getting right into bed.
You had no intention of helping Holland figure out that you killed your husband, even though one could argue it was self defense and Jeremy was crazy enough to go all the way, you still did it. Instead you were going to use him to figure out who killed Will and what he found and use it to take down Gibson once and for all. With Jeremy out of the picture you had no reason to stick around, no reason to keep being the obedient pet he assumed he married and were eager for that first taste of freedom in a decade. So what if it was with Holland March, the very man who’s cigarette smoke was still in your hair and the feel of his lips was clinging to your skin like he was part of you. He was your ticket out and you’d tell Moira after a few weeks that it was nothing but a dead end and she should mourn him without you and then you’d bolt, get far away from a family that took everything and find who you were.
Not Mrs. Gibson, but you're your own person and had no clue how much that searching would cost you.
A day later and you wondered if Moira had simply forgotten about Holland March since he hadn't shown up yet. You gave her his contact information, mentioned he liked to frequent a bar by his house and had a business partner named Jackson Healy. She assured that everything was being taken care of and told you not to worry about it, to look into Jeremy and see if anything could've made him a target. You knew he wasn't one, Jeremy just ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time and messed with the wrong woman. Sure he was extra drunk that day, the type he never got in the eight years you'd been married and he was also never that violent. The closest Jeremy got to being violent was a mistimed hit a couple years ago, he was aiming for a wall and missed, hitting you in the jaw. It was purple for weeks and when you met up with Holland he was concerned but you played it off as a fall, nothing to worry about.
Now you had something to worry about since Holland was about to learn a whole lot in a very short amount of time. Secrets you had kept near and dear to your heart that would all come out the second he stepped into your home. You had complained of money troubles years back, said you were barely getting by and your tiny apartment was too much of an embarrassment for him to see, another lie. You lived in a mansion, had been since your wedding night and yet were broke, Jeremy controlled all the money. He dealt with finances and instead of letting you work and make your own funds, he kept you at home. You didn't know if Holland would react mad or disappointed and were scared to see when Moira called you into the living room of her own million dollar mansion.
“Yes?”
“That PI of yours, Holland March, he's here.”
“Where?”
“The office upstairs. Wake him up and invite him for dinner.”
“Wake him up?” You asked and she shrugged as your eyes widened. “What did you do?”
“He refused to come with me so I made him. He'll be fine, just a little groggy.”
“I told you to mention me.”
“I did and when I added that your husband had just died he got pretty offended, accusing me of making up lies.”
“Shit.”
“Jeremy and I both knew you saw him a lot, every few months. We'd known for a while.”
“Why say nothing?”
“My brother had never been the most loyal person and I convinced him it was just his own medicine thrown back at him. Sure it made him mad, but he calmed down eventually, and realised I was right.”
“I didn't mean to hurt him.”
“No…you did,” she shot back and flicked the page in her magazine with a frown. “I do hope that you and Mr. March can work on this as professionals. It really is tragic what happened and sure I told the cops his death was accidental, too much alcohol and then he fell, I still want to know what really happened. Okay?”
“Of course.”
“Oh…dear?” She asked and you paused, one foot on the bottom step. “Tell Mr. March that he can't leave. Not until I say.”
“Got it,” you shot back and sighed, making your way upstairs and pulling open the door to find Holland sitting in a chair in the middle of the office, tied to it with his head lolled to the side since he was still unconscious.
He looked okay despite being not conscious and you got closer, spotting the button down and dark jeans as if Moira caught him on an off day. With Holland asleep you got a real good look at the guy, spotted some scars along his arms from years of putting himself in danger as a PI and even a small tattoo on his right hand, right along the pointer finger.
You will be happy. With a small smile underneath it.
“Typical,” you muttered and rolled your eyes wandering over to a cabinet and pulling out a bottle of 300 dollar bourbon and pouring a glass. “You do love your alcohol, let’s see what you think of her favourite.”
You wandered over and kneeled in front of Holland, waving the glass under his nose and seeing if he responded, made any motion of waking up but the guy was dead to the world. You rolled your eyes and grabbed a small drink, cringing at the taste and going again, putting it closer and he finally began to acknowledge it, lips twitching as he slowly came back. Holland blinked a couple times before his blue eyes finally opened and they widened when he saw you, the guy jumping back and nearly knocking over his chair.
“JESUS!”
“Welcome back.”
“Where?”
“An office,” you muttered and he looked around, eyes wide as you leaned on the desk. “It belongs to my sister in law.”
“Sister…what?” he repeated and stared. “Sugar…”
“Land.”
“What is this?”
“A grand reveal,” you shot back and he narrowed his eyes. “I have been lying to you for the entire time that we have been seeing each other. I married Jeremy Gibson eight years ago, he’s the guy who died and I know how.”
“What?”
“What I said…”
“I thought she was lying…but she’s not?”
“Nope,” you muttered and he sat back, eyes wide.
“Wait…you know who killed him?”
“Technically I did…but it was an accident, he was really drunk and fell off the second floor landing after he tried to kill me,” you muttered and a hand came up to your neck, bruised and sore from when he grabbed it and Holland’s eyes narrowed. “I asked you here, not to find out who killed Jeremy but who killed Will.”
“Your brother Will?”
“He died two days ago, the morning of when we got together.”
“That was why.”
“Yeah…I didn’t have the heart to tell you, you always liked him.”
“He was an asshole sometimes. Did he ever mention he arrested me?”
“He did,” you said and chuckled as Holland groaned.
“Drunk and disorderly conduct outside this terrible bar downtown, I was being an asshole. How’d he die?”
“They claimed suicide but Will was so straight and narrow it’s impossible, he’d never be caught dead with the drugs they found him with.”
“You think someone killed him?”
“I do,” you admitted. “Will was looking into Jeremy’s company, Gibson Manufacturing.”
“Damn…I knew that last name sounded familiar,” he said and you nodded since it seemed to be quite infamous. “Gibson has been in the news a lot for various stupid reasons.”
“Will was looking into their equipment, specifically a pulley system used in car manufacturing and there’s a factory in Modesto that’s been dealing with quite a few worker deaths over the last few years. They always claim it was some kind of accident but I remember one years ago where one guy didn’t die, he was paralyzed and got 500k and a new truck and decided that was enough. Two months later his wife was driving him down the 405 and the truck blew up five minutes in, they both died.”
“You think it’s connected?”
“Will did. If Gibson loses the contracts with the plants around California they’d be ruined. My dad even died in a factory accident, he was head of safety and would always come home and complain about it, say it wasn’t proper and one day, he never came back.”
“Gibson factory?”
“We never figured it out. Mom took the settlement.”
“So Gibson has been sweeping people under the rug for decades, Will goes looking into the latest as a detective and gets killed for it.”
“Correct,” you said and Holland sighed, his hands fidgeting behind his back since he was still tied to the chair. “Oh whoops…sorry, I’ll fix that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Jeremy?” he asked and shivered, his breath hitting your ear since you were close, forced to bend down to undo the ropes on his wrists.
“I never thought it was relevant. It never felt like cheating, he had a whole other family in San Francisco and we never felt that in love, more like roommates.”
“Why not leave?”
“Money,” you deadpanned and he rubbed his wrists. “Jeremy controlled it all and he promised me I’d never financially recover from divorcing him so I stayed, dealt with it and ignored it. Used you as an escape.”
“Only an escape?”
“No,” you admitted and felt your cheeks redden as Holland smiled, a bit of red barely visible beneath his stubble. “Will phoned me and we went to lunch and he claimed he had made a breakthrough, that the answers were at his place in LA. I need your PI expertise to go looking for it, see if we can get to the bottom of this and find what was so important to these people that he had to die.”
“What about Jeremy?”
“I’ll stall Moira and then admit they got away,” you muttered and ran a hand along her fancy desk, hating it even more than before.
“Will she believe it?”
“Jeremy didn’t trust cameras, he never had them installed so she has no reason to suspect a thing.”
“Good.”
“So?”
“I’m mad…I admit it…I feel like I’ve been cheated but I also want to know what Will found and maybe put all these rich people in their place, especially if one hurt you. So yeah…I’m in.”
“I’m sorry, Land, for it all.”
“Hey,” he began and stood, grabbing your hand. “I got to see you every few weeks for the past couple years, that’s worth a bit of annoyance.”
“Really?”
“You’re worth the world Sugar and he’s an asshole for never seeing that.”
“He’s also dead.”
“Deserved more,” he muttered and offered a hug that you took, body sinking into his embrace since it had been a hectic 48 hours. “We got this. I can crack this case, I’m quite good.”
“Didn’t you almost die during the Misty Mountains case?” you asked and he went still.
“Shhhhh…don’t think about that,” Holland muttered and pulled you closer as you rolled your eyes.
“Oh…one more thing. Moira requested you come for dinner.”
“Oh boy.”
“Be nice,” you said and he frowned. “Land.”
“Fine,” he said and stepped back, running a hand down the front of his button down to flatten the wrinkles before he did them up, giving you a spin for your approval.
“Perfect.”
“I feel under-dressed.”
“Used to those horrible wool suits?”
“They’re polyester!” he shot back and you rolled your eyes, heading to the door as he followed.
Just one dinner with Holland, one simple little dinner with him and a woman you suspected wished he had died from whatever she drugged him with. You had known Moira for close to ten years and she’d never been the nicest, always stern looks and grumbles about how everyone around her was worth shit. But maybe she’d warm up to him and his tousled hair and mustache and that stupid smirk he pulled. Or maybe she’d try to kill him again, it was a tossup and was making you nervous but at least Holland now knew the truth, he knew you had been lying and didn’t immediately hate you. You couldn't say if you’d feel the same way but you were grateful he gave you a shot and maybe a case would bring you too close and break apart the logic that after four years of meeting, you were still only friends.
Hurley would be thrilled.
You had gotten used to how elaborate dinner had to be at the Gibson house and were amused when Holland walked into the dining room and his eyes widened, hand coming up to smooth his messed up hair. The dining room was a lot, walls covered in ornate and expensive paintings and a dining table that was made of some rare wood Moira almost got arrested over. The woman herself was seated at the head of the table, smoking and thumbing through a magazine, a deserted glass of bourbon in front of her, glass sweating as the ice melted. She looked up and rolled her eyes before pointing the cigarette towards two chairs and you sank into one as Holland grabbed the one across from you.
“So…” he began but she shushed him, putting out the cigarette in a glass of water and grabbing a sip of her drink with a long and drawn out sigh.
“Sorry about the hassle.”
“Oh no, you’re good,” he muttered and rubbed his wrists that were still red from her ropes as Moira chuckled.
“So…Mr. March, how long have you known my dear sister in law.”
“Since we were ten,” he admitted and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands and studying him like he was another piece of art on the walls. “I transferred to an elementary school just outside LA, got shit on for it and Sugar was there.”
“Sugar?”
“Old nickname, she was always my sweet spot.”
“Hmmm…all that camaraderie and yet she married my idiot brother.”
“I made some bad choices in college, it broke us apart.”
“I thought her name was Holly, not bad choices,” Moira muttered and grabbed another sip as Holland’s eyes narrowed.
“You know my daughter?”
“As soon as that Misty Mountain’s case broke last year I’ve been keeping tabs, seeing if one day I’d need the Nice Guys for a problem closer to home,” she admitted and sipped her glass as Cindy placed a plate of steak and some fixings in front of each of you. “Turns out I would.”
“Right…Jeremy Gibson.”
“Your sugar here called it a home invasion but I know that people are after him, they have to be, we’re the biggest thing in LA. People have been trying to take down this family since I was a child.”
“Ever retaliate?” Holland asked and you froze, steak halfway to your mouth as Moira let out a puff of air, clearly annoyed.
“Nope.”
“Huh…surprising,” he muttered and she nodded, grabbing another sip and swallowing so hard the sound echoed off the ornate walls.
“I can give you some papers for a lead but we don’t have a lot to go off of. Jeremy had a lot of enemies, surely one of them has more information. I left a list on your things,” she said and turned to you as you nodded.
“We’ll find them.”
“I hope,” you said and she narrowed her eyes.
“Jeremy will be buried in a plot next to his father and we can discuss money when you’re finished. He changed his will to take you out of it years back but I’m sure we can figure something out,” she hissed out and your blood ran cold, stomach churning.
“Thanks,” you muttered and dropped your fork on the plate. “Uh…I’m not hungry.”
“Finished,” he agreed and wiped at his mouth before he stood, pushing out the chair with a loud groan as Moira smirked, pleased she seemed to have gotten deep under your skin. “We can uh…”
“We’ll grab a hotel. Don’t feel like staying here.”
“Agreed,” he said and turned to Moira. “Thank you. I’ll…look into it and let you know what we find.”
“Good luck Mr. March. Please take care of her.”
“I will,” he assured and gave your shoulder a pat before getting out of that room as fast as he could.
You were about to follow, eager to leave all of this and escape but Moira stopped you, moving to stand between your body and the exit. She frowned, arms crossed against her chest as she looked down at you, a few inches taller which you hated to admit always pissed you off. She had the ability to look down on you just by standing there and it always was perfectly clear she didn’t approve. Moira was a good fifteen years older than Jeremy, basically a mother rather than a sister since his mother died when he was young. She had forever acted like she owned the place even though he was listed as CEO and you knew she had been secretly running Gibson since Jeremy took over when his dad died fifteen years ago. The one person who had something to lose from whatever Will found was her and you made a mental note to mention to Holland that she was a prime suspect as she eyed you.
“I really am sorry about Jeremy, he was an idiot but he didn’t deserve it. I do hope that you and Mr. March will get justice for this senseless violence.”
“We will try.”
“I heard your brother was looking into him, maybe he released something that made Jeremy a bigger target.”
“Will died two days ago.”
“I heard, what a shame. Maybe he didn’t.”
“We’ll let you know if we find anything.”
“Good and I’m sorry about that will, I told him you’d be mad but maybe there’s some change around for you.”
“I hope,” you said and she reached out, patting your shoulder.
“Sometimes we spend so long caring for someone just to get shafted.”
“Sometimes,” you agreed and Moira squeezed your shoulder before she let you go and you sighed, walking out the front door to spot Holland in the driveway looking confused. “What?”
“She didn’t bring my car.”
“I’ll call a cab,” you muttered and he nodded as you wandered back inside, mind racing.
He changed the will, Jeremy locked you out of money you deserved and it made you even happier he was dead, gone and never able to hurt you again. Even though he still seemed to be pretty good at it. But maybe Holland could be the one to help make it better and you leaned against the wall of a garden planter as you waited for a cab and he lit a cigarette, letting it rest between two of his fingers. In that moment, the beat of silence as smoke curled around his hand, you were the happiest you had been in close to eight years and didn’t want to ever let it go.
The two of you stayed in a cheap motel outside of the main part of LA, someplace with two single beds and thin walls but it was better than nothing and were on the way to Will’s apartment early the next morning. You knew something had to be wrong from a few blocks back and told Holland to pull over, throwing open the door and sprinting towards the street with his place, nearly crashing into a guy on the sidewalk. You shot back an apology and kept going, sliding to a stop across the street from it and staring up at his third floor apartment that was basically engulfed in flames.
“Holy shit.”
“Do you see Leah?” you asked since Holland had met her once, Will and Leah had been together since high school and he was only two years younger than you.
“No.”
“Shit…she might still be in there,” you said and went to run forward but he stopped you, pulling off his button down to cover his mouth and sprinting forward, running into the building before you could stop him.
You were half tempted to follow but trusted Holland and paced the length of the sidewalk across the street and waited for him to reappear with Leah. You were wearing lines into your palms from your nails and were tempted to start screaming to let out some stress when he appeared, clutching Leah in his arms and ran across the street, placing her gently on the sidewalk. You smiled and knelt next to her, Leah coughing but alive and Holland was the same, dusted in soot on his white tank top but very much alive and you left Leah before wrapping him in a tight hug.
“Thank you,” you said and stepped back as he nodded.
“Always.”
You smiled and turned back to Leah who was still coughing and thanked a kind stranger who had brought over a bottle of water, concern written across his face. “Leah…here…you’re okay.”
“Thank you…God…I was just done talking with my guest and then this happened. Didn’t even get to grab anything, just got trapped in the bathroom.”
“I brute forced my way through,” Holland admitted and you spotted a burn on his wrist, same spot as a scar that he got after Jackson Healy broke his arm. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“God…who was the guest?”
“Uh…it was Jeremy,” she admitted and your eyes widened. “What?”
“Leah…Jeremy is dead.”
“WHAT?”
“He died a few days ago, fell off the second floor landing,” you admitted and she narrowed her eyes. “Yeah…it finally happened.”
“Good…I never liked him and thought it was weird he came by to bring me flowers and say he was sorry about Will.”
“If Jeremy is dead…who came by?” Holland asked and you sighed.
“The black sheep of the family. Jordan Gibson. He’s his twin.”
“Your dead husband has a twin?”
“Jeremy hadn’t seen him since he was 20. When his dad died, he gave Jeremy full control and left Jordan a trust fund he can’t even access without specific passwords. Jordan called the entire family useless and ran off to produce movies of some kind. We all knew he was a porn producer.”
“Well he invited me to a party at his place and two seconds later the apartment was in flames,” Leah muttered, glaring at the smouldering building as two firetrucks tried to put it out.
“We have to go to that party,” you said and Holland raised a brow. “We can't go in there and check but I bet that Jordan grabbed Will’s research. He could use it to blackmail the entire family.”
“Why don’t you let him?” Leah asked and you shook your head.
“Because if the wrong person gets the hands on it then it could go back to Moira and we’ll lose the one shot we need to take her down. Those findings are going right to the police.”
“Well…I will be declining the invite…but have fun.”
“Oh shit…you need to be somewhere safe, I assume he wanted you dead.”
“Likely,” Leah muttered and Holland ran off without a word, calling over his shoulder that he’d be back quick as you raised a brow.
“So…Holland March…you’re hanging out with him while not in a bar.”
“He’s a PI and we’re working on this case.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes,” you said and she raised a brow. “Holland is nothing but a coworker.”
“I might have been a bit delirious but I saw that hug, you like him.”
“I’ve been pretty involved with him for like four years so there are always some lingering feelings.”
“But now you’re both single,” she pointed out and you groaned, wishing he’d hurry up and the guy answered the prayer, running back, having slipped his button up back on.
“Be quiet,” you said and Leah laughed as Holland pushed back his hair and you swallowed hard.
“I called Healy with a phone in a diner down there, he'll come and pick her up. She can stay at my place.”
“Really?”
“Holly will be thrilled,” he said and Leah raised a brow. “My daughter.”
“Oh…you have one?”
“Yeah she's fourteen and a menace. Good luck."
“When is Healy going to be here?” you asked but like another prayer had been answered he was there, sitting in a nice looking convertible with a smile on his face.
“Right on time!” Holland announced and pulled out a wad of cash from his wallet before handing it over to Healy. “Take Leah here to grab some essentials before you bring her to my place. Holly is out with Janet till later so wait for her, if you can.”
“And you?” Healy asked as you stared at the cash, eyes wide that he'd be so generous.
“We have a party to crash.”
“Don't let him fall in the pool,” he said and you raised a brow. “I'm serious.”
“That was one time.”
“You saw Nixon, that's a big ass deal,” Healy shot back and you raised a brow as Leah got in the car.
“Do I want to know?”
“Just…keep him away from pools,” Healy said and you nodded in agreement, Holland rolling his eyes and deliberately putting out his smoke on the side of his car. “Also balconies and hills…don’t let him lose his gun and…”
“ALRIGHTY!” Holland exclaimed and grabbed your shoulder, dragging you over to his own car before you could ask what any of that meant.
You knew that Healy and Holland met while working on the Misty case, Healy broke his arm and then suddenly Holland was the only person he could turn to for help and then some way, somehow they worked well as partners. They solved the case and prevented an automobile company from doing some shady work and it resulted in a business, one that had flourished. Holland mentioned all his success the time before yesterday, half complaining, half being grateful he no longer had to worry too much about Holly’s future. His new collection of clients kept them fed, housed and even allowed for some dreaming of what could be next.
“So…”
“I won't fall in a pool,” he assured and you nodded, letting out a chuckle as he put his car in drive and started the journey to Jordan's.
His parties lasted all day and then some so it would be going even now, even with the sun shining. Holland reached over and flicked a nob on his dash, a song playing through his speakers as he tapped his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. You smiled and looked over at him, caught the way his hair got brighter in the light shining through the open roof of his convertible and sat back with a grin, content.
Even though it took a lot to get there, a lot of heartache and pain and dealing with Jeremy, you were happy to be there. Smiling wide and enjoying yourself with a man who was just as happy to be sitting in that car with you. If only you could read his mind, for it would be thoughts of only you and the smile on your face whenever he cracked a bad joke or how your eyes lit up in admiration when he gave Leah some cash. Sure you had the centre console of his convertible between you but you both had never felt closer.
Jordan's house was massive, kind of like his ego and situated on a hill that had a view of almost all of LA. He bought a small one bedroom, too small for his liking and built another one shortly after he turned 20 and got kicked out of the family business with nothing but 300,000 to his name. Sure he had a trust fund and would never be able to call himself broke but it was locked behind passcodes and requirements. Jordan's solution to making extra bucks was to be a producer, making adult films in his basement and throwing California’s most elaborate parties.
“Ok so, every single one of these has a different theme. One time the theme was food, people showed up in clothing made of food.”
“How did that work?”
“It didn't,” you muttered and his eyes widened as he pulled into a spot just down from the house. “I have no clue what his theme is for today but hopefully it won't be mermaids.”
“That was one time.”
“I need to hear that story,” you said and stepped out of the car as he rolled his eyes.
With some time to spare Holland had suggested a change and had spared some cash for a brand new outfit. The button up had a collection of sunflowers on it and he added a pair of dark wash jeans, flared at the bottom so a pair of extra fancy looking boots could poke out. They had some kind of design on them, stitched into the leather and he mentioned them being a gift to himself for a case well done. You had chosen a pair of flared dark blue jeans, similar to his and a striped short sleeve sweater with a pair of Adidas you had grabbed on sale. Though upon arrival at the house it was enough to make you stand out and you watched a woman walk past, dressed in a cat costume, tail and all.
“Uh.”
“Animals,” you said and nodded to one dressed as a tiger. “Have not seen that one.”
“Better not be any fish,” Holland muttered and you rolled your eyes, following him into the house and getting bombarded with a collection of people half dressed in animal costumes and dancing.
“This is something,” you muttered and were half tempted to check out the bar when a women walked by in a mouse costume and smiled wide before wrapping you in a hug.
“You have to get into it! Enjoy yourself!” she called and grabbed a pair of cat ears out of a bowl by the door. “Here, have the pity ears.”
“Oh nope…Not here to dress up, here for Jordan.”
“He’s upstairs in the lounge. You’ll have more fun if you look the part, I’m sure the guy you’re with will appreciate it,” she said and wandered off, arms full of more ears as you rolled your eyes and turned to Holland.
“What?” you asked and smiled at the look on his face, a blush spreading across his cheeks.
“Nothing.”
“You like them,” you accused and he shrugged. “God…I guess I’ll wear them.”
“Everyone looks cute in cat ears,” he assured and you smiled.
“You think I look cute?”
“Sugar, you’d hit me if I told you what I really think,” he admitted and followed you through the sea of people, side swiping two women who were dancing together.
“Bad way or good way?”
“Bad way,” he shot back and began to head upstairs as you followed, rolling your eyes and severely doubting that would ever happen.
“I doubt it,” you said and he chuckled, grabbing your shoulder and gently pushing you against the wall at the top of the stairs to both let people pass and to get your blood pumping. “Holland…”
“You challenged me,” he shot back and rested a hand above your head, his other ghosting over your hip like even he was scared to get any closer. “This is me responding.”
“I didn’t mean it like this.”
“Really?” he asked and got so close you could smell that faint tinge of smoke on his breath, see the details in the stubble on his cheeks where he shaved to leave only a small beard.
“Yes.”
“Sure they’re ears…but there’s something about the innocent look.”
“Ears make me look innocent.”
“The smile you gave her,” he said and grinned. “You only smile like that with me.”
“You used to be the only thing to smile about,” you admitted and he stopped teasing, mouth set in a hard line. “Land…”
“No…I…Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” you said and stepped away from the wall since the moment had died. “It’s better now.”
“Jeremy really was an asshole huh?”
“The biggest,” you said and brushed off your jeans before hunting for Jordan, wishing you could stay pressed up against that wall like nothing in the world could ever be wrong again.
But there was a lot wrong with it, a lot in the moment and pulling open the door to the lounge and catching Jordan in the middle of filming one of the movies he produced was the cherry on top of a sour ass cake.
“JESUS!” Holland exclaimed and it caught Jordan’s attention as you stepped out of the room and slammed the door, shaking yourself to get the image out of your head.
“That was a lot.”
“I didn’t know people could move like that,” he muttered and you groaned, leaning against the wall as Jordan pulled the door open and slipped out, closing it on noises you didn’t know a human could make.
“Yes?”
“You know me, Jordan,” you said and he nodded, saying your name like it hurt him as Holland raised a brow.
“I do. Why are you here?”
“Leah gave me her invite.”
“Well…that was for Leah.”
“Her apartment blew up, she was busy.”
“Shocking,” he shot back and you frowned. “I heard about Jeremy. How’d you do it?”
“I didn’t.”
“If I can’t bullshit you, you can’t bullshit me. I know you did it.”
“It was an accident. Your idiot brother got so drunk he could barely function and attacked me, I moved to get away and he tipped himself over the second floor landing. I told him to add a bigger railing.”
“He attacked you?” Jordan asked and you rubbed your neck since you had covered the marks with makeup.
“I think he wanted to kill me,” you admitted and could feel the air tense up behind you, Holland moving closer, hand brushing yours. “But he didn’t get the chance and now I’m here because you took something from Leah.”
“What could I take?”
“Besides almost taking her life, her fiance was my younger brother. Will was researching the Gibson Manufacturing Company and found something, I know he did and someone close to that bundle of freaks murdered him.”
“I’m in that bundle.”
“You were kicked out and now occupy a bundle of one.”
“Can’t have a bundle of one,” he shot back and began to walk off as you groaned and followed, slipping past a couple getting extra freaky in the hallway.
“Stop stalling Jordan, she said you took something.”
“I didn’t. I heard about Will from a buddy of mine who’s a cop and a damn good actor and he said Will died so I went to console her.”
“You have a cop in your cast?” Holland asked and he nodded, grabbing a drink from the bar.
“I have many people. Bartenders, cops…a certain politician from a state we can’t name…All.”
“God damn.”
“Don’t have a PI. Looking for work?”
“How’d you know?”
“Contrary to whatever you heard, Jeremy still talked to me and he mentioned his darling wife was seeing a PI on the side. Really pissed him off.”
“Pissed off the guy who had a whole family in San Francisco,” you shot back and he shrugged.
“Your affair was closer to home and I can assure you, I didn’t take a thing. So have a drink, enjoy yourselves and we should hang out, get to know each other without that idiot in the way.”
“You’re not mad?” you asked and he shrugged.
“Moira won’t invite me back but maybe she’ll drop the passcodes on that trust fund.”
“Porn doesn’t pay?” Holland shot back and Jordan barked out a laugh before grabbing two very blue drinks from the bar.
“It pays in buckets but I don’t like the idea of my family owing me money. Here, my special drink, saved for only the best guests and I admit, you two are.”
“Why?”
“One is my now ex-sister-in-law and the other is a man with a face for the industry. You got the stache Mr. March, just need the breakout moment. I have a blonde with too much time on her hands sitting upstairs.”
“No thank you.”
“He’s all yours then,” Jordan shot back and handed over a drink to each of you. “Don’t be a stranger, sweetheart, come by when there’s less fun being had.”
“God that guy is weird,” Holland muttered and took a sip of the blue concoction in his hand before taking a seat at the bar as you followed.
“Tell me about it.”
“Was he right?”
“About?”
“Jeremy and his little family.”
“Yeah he had a girlfriend and twins in San Francisco."
“He had kids?”
“I never wanted them so he took it into his own hands. They’re about five now. The only reason he got so mad about us was because he realised I could also have some fun without him, that I didn’t always need my big strong husband.”
“You became your own person.”
“Yeah…imagine, having your own thoughts,” you muttered and sipped the drink which wasn’t half and tasted vaguely like blueberries.
“Could not be me.”
“HA! I needed that,” you said and stared at Holland, eyes narrowing.
“What?”
“Have your eyes always been blue?” you asked and reached up, brushing a hand along his cheek. “They’re so…blue.”
“Uh…thanks.”
“And your cheeks are so rough…you gotta shave,” you said and moved to basically cup his mouth as his eyes widened. “Stache is fine…I like it.”
“He called it a porn stache.”
“Jordan’s an idiot,” you assured and spun around in your chair as an actual tiger strolled by. “He throws a hell of a party. Did you see that tiger?”
“A real one?”
“I think so,” you muttered and felt your eyes get heavy. “Shit.”
“Yeah, there’s a unicorn behind you,” Holland muttered, speech slurred. “I think…”
“This special drink ain’t so special.”
“Nope…”
“I trusted those blueberries,” you muttered and spun back around, slamming the glass on the bartop. “Bartender…refund!” You slumped forward, chin resting on the bartop as Holland did the same, breathing slowing as he started to lose consciousness. “Land…”
“Can’t…I’m…”
“Same,” you muttered and dropped your head onto the marble, wishing you’d said no to his little gift since you definitely weren’t the best guests there.
Not even close.
It had been a long time since you had gotten blackout drunk so waking up took a bit longer than usual. Sure you also got drugged and that had never happened and the way your head pounded let you know the drugs didn't like you much either. Everything was either too bright or too loud and an annoyed groan from behind let you know Holland wasn't far, likely in the same room. You blinked and attempted to turn and look for him when you realised you couldn't, sure you could blink fine but the turning part was difficult, pretty much impossible.
“Sugar?”
“Holland?”
“Oh thank God, it's been lonely in this room.”
“Where are we?”
“Somewhere in Jordan's massive house,” he muttered and you eyed the walls but couldn’t spot any windows.
“Why can't we move?”
“Turns out he's horribly generic,” Holland muttered and you moved your wrists around, feeling that they were bound behind your back and let out a sigh.
“He tied us back to back, that's such a cliche.”
“Said the same thing when I woke up,” he muttered and leaned back, able to rest his head on your shoulder as you rolled your eyes. “I have no idea why, or what he wants, just that that drink was not special for the good reasons and I have a massive headache.”
“Jordan was always a bit insane, it could be anything.”
“Great, first I didn't know you’re married and now I find out you have an insane brother in law.”
“I was married, Jeremy died.”
“Right. But that was recently.”
“Are you still mad about that?” You asked in reference to the fact that every meeting between you two since the first had been a part of an elaborate affair.
“I mean…was I being used this whole time? Was I nothing but an excuse to get back at your terrible husband.”
“Do you really think that?” You asked and he got quiet.
“No.”
“It wasn't to shit on Jeremy or escape my family, it was for you. When I caught you in that bar it was the best day of my life. I could finally go back to a me I liked, one without the Gibson name attached who could be free for a few hours with a man who actually liked her.”
“Heh, about that first meeting,” he said and you narrowed your eyes. “I set it up.”
“What?”
“I had seen you around even before Marie died, walking in and out of stores and had been trying to convince myself to say something, to go up to you and spill my heart out like the idiot I am. When she died all I wanted was to see you but I didn't have a way of contacting you, all I had was a vague idea that you'd be at a salon getting your hair done. So I grabbed a bunch of flyers from Marianne's, shoved them in every magazine they had and waited. Three weeks later you appeared on a Friday and I pretended to run into you.”
“You planned it?” You said and he chuckled. “You are insane.”
“Sure. But I looked good. I wore my favorite suit to that bar every Friday.”
“Why?”
“Because I regretted everything that happened and wanted to make it better.”
“Everything?”
“Most things,” he agreed and you hoped that he didn't regret Holly, literally the coolest person on the planet despite only being 14. “I guess I regretted how it ended. With that fight and you slamming that car door and driving off.”
“I drove right to Jeremy,” you said and chuckled, remembering meeting Jeremy in a bar shortly after, finding solace in his jokes.
“Well…jokes on the two of us.”
“Oh give it up.” You both jumped since Jordan had finally revealed himself and had been standing in the corner for a while, listening into your conversation. “You both have regrets and worries and doubts and all that bullshit and now you two are in hot water.”
“Why?”
“Because I was lying to you, I did steal from Will,” he said and leaned down, staring at you as you rolled your eyes. “He found out some very interesting information about my family’s company and instead of giving it back like a good boy I will be selling it to the highest bidder. There will be an auction here tomorrow after my party and you two will stay, tied together like you deserve until I am rich and my family is ruined. Hope you don’t need a bathroom, I’ll be by in the morning with some snacks.”
“Why not hand it over to the cops, get your revenge that way?”
“Sweetheart, I'm not here for revenge,” he said and smirked. “Ruining them is a bonus, the money is where it’s at.”
Jordan reached forward and tapped your nose before he wandered out of the room with a swing in his step and shut the door with a massive slam, the noise echoing through the rest of the house. You sighed and leaned back, ready to just live with it and let Jordan get away with all of it when Holland started moving, hands busy and you raised a brow.
“Land?”
“I have a pocket knife in my pocket.”
“You do?”
“Always do, you never know when you’re gonna need a knife in this line of work and this is the perfect moment. If I can get it out, I can get us free.”
“I’ll reach in,” you said and groaned, moving your hand down despite the strain in your shoulders and grabbing the knife out of his pocket. “Got it.”
“Hand it to me,” he said and with a struggle and a groan you managed to get the knife in his pocket and he flipped the blade out, slicing through the rope tying you two together.
“Yes!! God that was perfect!” you said and hopped up, throwing off the ropes and wrapping him in a tight hug as the guy laughed. “You are incredible.”
“I…” he began and didn’t even hesitate before he grabbed your face and planted a kiss on your lips, backing you against a wall on the far side of the room as he deepened it.
You reached down and grabbed a belt loop before pulling him close, encouraging Holland to deepen it further and he did, exploring your mouth like it was uncharted territory, hands splayed out against your thighs. You wanted more than anything to throw off all the layers in that room and really embrace the fact that the guy was hard and not doing a thing to hide it but you couldn’t, there were more pressing matters at hand. Sure you and Holland had been reckless before, one too many intimate moments had in the bathroom at Marianne’s, drunk off cheap beer and each other but this was different, there was more at stake.
“Land…”
“I know,” he muttered and stepped back, running a hand down his face since even from a kiss he looked spent, wrecked even.
“Soon.”
“Keep that promise,” he said and grabbed his coat which was hanging on a chair by the door, pulling out a small gun you were impressed he hadn’t lost yet. “Where would the files be?”
“Jordan’s office. Top floor.”
“God…there’s gonna be a whole lot of people out there,” he muttered and went for the door, pulling it open. “He’s gotta stop trusting ropes.”
“Cliched as fuck,” you said and he chuckled with a nod, pulling it open and poking his head out.
“The hall is clear but I have no clue about the rest of the place.”
“Dumwaiter,” you said and he raised a brow. “Jordan has this massive kitchen on the bottom floor and is lazy so he installed a dumbwaiter to bring him breakfast in bed. It’ll lead us to the top floor.”
“Those things aren’t spacious.”
“Close proximity never stopped you,” you shot back and led him down the hall to where you remembered it being, ignoring the look on his face.
The dumbwaiter was on that floor and was exactly as small as you remembered which wasn’t ideal for two adult people, in their thirties and one of which a bit more muscled than you remembered. The only way to sit in the thing was on Holland’s lap, awkward to say the least since his excitement had yet to go down and you bit your lip to keep from teasing him about it. But it was a quick ride, only two floors and you pulled yourself out, flopping out of the small box and landing pretty facedown.
“You good?”
“Better,” you muttered and got up, rubbing your nose as he rolled his eyes.
“I’ve been stuck in worse spots,” he muttered and rubbed his back. “Healy had this case and to pull it off we needed a different car and he borrowed this old Volkswagen Bug off a buddy of his. Don’t spend 20 hours with a man like Healy in a bug, I almost killed him.”
“Then I’ll count that as better,” you said and moved further down the hall, spotting his office across from an elaborate bedroom set up that always made you cringe.
“Is that a heart shaped bed?”
“It vibrates.”
“Uh…”
“Don’t ask,” you said and pushed open the door, spotting a briefcase on his desk, a heart shaped leather quilted chair behind it. “Bingo. Guard the door.”
“Aye aye,” he said and stood outside it as you were quick to grab the briefcase, spotting another letter on the desk, one addressed to Jordan. “What is this…”
Jordan,
My wife will be at your party on the weekend, see if you can get her to talk about this mystery man she has been seeing almost three times a month for the past few years. I know they’re up to something. And not like my something…but something worse. I’ll spare you a few bucks if she talks.
Jeremy.
“Fuck you to Jeremy,” you muttered and crumpled the letter up, tossing it in a waste basket and moving back to the door, pulling it open and startling Holland. “Who else could that have been?”
“You never know,” he said and you rolled your eyes, keeping the case close and moving down the hall and out a back door, connected to a patio with an outside staircase as Holland followed, looking over his shoulder but no one had followed.
“That was almost too easy,” you said and tossed the case in his back seat as he nodded in agreement. “He must be occupied by that party.”
“Or maybe a politician from a state you can’t name.”
“Do you want to know?”
“God yes,” Holland said and started the car, pulling off the mountain and towards his own place.
“It’s Gary Edwards.”
“Ohio Gary.”
“No…Pensylvania.”
“God…I get it.”
“You like Gary?”
“Sugar, I’m not blind,” he said and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t mock me. I am more of a man when I say how nice men look, I’m lifting them up.”
“Sure,” you muttered and he chuckled.
“Are there no women you’d call hot?”
“I meannn.....”
“Name one.”
“Cher.”
“See that’s not fair,” he said and you nodded. “God…Cher…I would date her. NO! I wouldn’t date her…I would ask her to hit me.”
“I’d get her to run me over.”
“Oh that would be beautiful,” he said and laughed, turning on the radio as his eyes widened. “Oh my god.”
“Hello there Cher,” you said as the chorus of “Take Me Home” began to play through his speakers.
“OH! Take me home (Take me home). Oh, can't you see I want you near?” Holland belted as he turned down a side street and you rolled your eyes. “Take me home (Take me home). Ooh baby, let's get out of here.”
“I'd follow you anywhere, your place or mine,” you added and he grinned, looking like the happiest man in California. “Just a one-night affair would be so fine.”
“WOO!” Holland exclaimed and sped over the streets to his place, Cher following you all the way as he really did take you home.
And you hoped it wasn’t just for a one night affair.
After the altercation during the Misty ordeal, Holland moved to a house a bit outside of LA with a nice yard and a functional pool out back that was more than a few doors down from the wreckage of where his wife died. He assured that both he and Holly needed the break and the place was a welcome change of scenery, a little slice of their own, away from the hustle and bustle. You liked it, liked the white stucco and orange accents that he claimed was Holly’s idea and stepped into a nice looking front room, tossing the case on the couch as his said daughter ran out from her own room. Despite being a teen, she still adored him, wrapping Holland in a tight hug as he tossed her around, kissing the top of her head as his eyes lit up.
“God…Holls…you’re good?”
“Perfect,” she assured and he put her down as Holly turned, eyes widening and you grinned. “Oh my god!!”
“Come here,” you said and held out your arms as she ran over, jumping into your embrace since it had been a while.
After the first meeting with Holland he took you home to meet Holly which was a mistake since she immediately assumed you were his new girlfriend and refused to see you as anything but. Since she had backed off a bit and you stopped by whenever you were in the area, bringing her books and sweets from her favourite bakery and talking shit about Holland whenever he wasn’t home.
She was like him, bold and knew what she wanted out of life and how to get it and liked to micromanage her dad like he was the child in the relationship. Holland didn’t mind, he liked having someone willing to call him out and the two were a pair literally made in heaven, Holly being the best accident that ever happened to him. You couldn’t help but agree and had to really squash that maternal instinct when you first met her, wanting to stick around and be the new woman in his life like she insinuated four years ago.
“Why are you here?”
“We’re working together on a case, it’s why Leah was brought here.”
“Thank you again,” she said and stepped out from her spot in the kitchen. “It’s been great.”
“Healy?” Holland asked.
“Home,” she said and nodded to Holly. “She said we were cool so he went home. I hope that’s okay.”
“I trust you,” he assured and she smiled.
“What did you find?”
“Jordan did steal Will’s research, it’s in this case,” you said and picked it up. “Everything he found about the family is right in here.”
“Take your time.”
“You don’t want to know?”
“It’s your married family and younger brother, you get the first look.”
“Leah…”
“Yeah?”
“It sounds like Moira killed Will. She found out he was close and stopped him.”
“I figured,” she admitted and played with her ring, now on a chain. “Stop her.”
“I plan to,” you assured and she walked off, mentioning she was tired and wandering down the hall to a spare bedroom as Holland turned to Holly.
“Bed, we have things to discuss,” he said and nodded to you as she sighed.
“I know…Oh…I always knew you’d work.”
“In what sense?” you asked and Holly smirked.
“Oh you know…only the best kind of working relationship.”
“We’re not together,” Holland shot back and she rolled her eyes.
“Keep lying,” she singsonged and wandered off, practically skipping as you sighed and grabbed the case, taking a seat on his couch and staring at it.
“Sugar…”
“I can’t,” you muttered and dropped it on the table. “That’s the last thing Will did and if I open it…”
“He’s really dead,” he surmised and you nodded. “I get it.”
“You felt the same with Marie?”
“I killed her,” he admitted and your eyes widened. “Not like that. I…accidentally killed her. Marie had been complaining about the stove, that it was too annoying to light the pilot light every time she wanted to use it and had been bugging me for a new one. One I couldn't afford and had been putting off and every Friday Holly and I go bowling at a place near the old place and we went that Friday. I was supposed to be working, making extra cash and getting her that new stove but I spent it with Holly, goofing off and getting beat by her and halfway through the second game this cop appears and tells me I need to come with him. I assume I’m under arrest for some reason and try to run but he tells me about Marie and the house and that the place was still on fire. When it finally ended and they said she had died, I asked caused it and the fireman who responded told me it was the stove, it blew up.”
“You couldn’t have known,” you began but he shook his head.
“No…I should have fixed it. She was always smarter than me.”
“Holland…that was an accident. Marie could’ve been hit by a car the next day or struck by lightning with the same amount of probability. You couldn’t have known.”
“Yeah but she died and the first thing I wanted was to see you,” he admitted and you sighed. “I know…what an ass. But you were the first one on my mind besides Holly.”
“Land…”
“That last fight was fucked up, I treated you like the worst person on the planet when I was the guy who got a girl pregnant after a one night stand.”
“You asked me if you should leave her for me. Be with me and let her figure it out herself or go and be the man she deserved and you chose to step up and look what came out of it, Holly is incredible.”
“Yeah but what about what we could’ve had.”
“No, don’t do that, you’re going to spiral.”
“I like spiralling, I’m good at it,” he admitted and stood, wandering over to a liquor cabinet and pouring himself a scotch, sucking it back with a sigh. “Now we’re here and we…We’re not really anything.”
“There’s a lot going on right now.”
“Just a few days back I was happy to do our little trieste again and now I wish it never happened.”
“Why?”
“Because the only thing on my mind is how much I want to recreate that night. I have been wanting to do it again for a while, spend every waking moment right there by your side like some shadow. And yet…you always had an excuse. An excuse named Jeremy Gibson.”
“Hey…”
“Not mad…about that…mad about other things.”
“Maybe once this is over we can have a real talk, a real look at what this is.”
“Could it be something?”
“It could,” you agreed and he grinned, walking over and placing his glass on the table before sitting real close.
Holland reached out and you let him as he pulled you into his lap, legs splayed out on either side as he gripped your thighs to keep you close, planting a kiss on your lips.
“We could do this a lot.”
“We could,” you agreed and draped your arms around his neck before he deepened the kiss with a moan, pulling you closer but there wasn’t much room left on a sofa as small as his. “Holland…”
“Yes, Sugar…”
“I…I gotta look at that case.”
“After,” he tried and despite your better judgement you gave him a nod, his lips moving down your neck as you fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, pulling it open and pulling back the silk from the skin of his shoulders.
Sure this had just happened not even forty eight hours ago in a spot that was a lot more private than a living room but that was different, it was a means to an end, there was a lot more at stake this time. The way he grabbed and held felt like he meant it, felt like he was holding less to create a new sensation and more because he was worried you’d let go and leave him. Sure you had been married only a day before, wallowing in fake grief about your dead husband but you had been out of love for a long time and desperate for a shot at something worth coming undone over. It had happened every couple of months for the last few years but that moment, that damn moment, was so weighted it felt like it was pressing you closer to him as he shimmied out of the rest of the shirt.
“Too many layers,” you muttered and pulled up the undershirt as he chuckled low, chest vibrating. “Why?”
“Decency.”
“Fuck that,” you shot back and pulled up the hem of the white tank, pulling it up and over his head with a care he deserved as Holland reached for the hem of your sweater, doing the same.
“I see you don’t feel the same.”
“Like I said…fuck that,” you shot back, voice low, almost a growl and he groaned despite himself. “I see with this position, you’ve put me in quite the place of power.”
“Sugar…”
“Hmmmm.”
“Don’t kill me.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” you shot back but knew that wasn’t a promise and sank lower, grinding on him through too many layers as he captured your lips in another kiss, tongue prodding your mouth and you let him deepen it.
Holland shuddered and you smiled, never letting him live it down when he mentioned you were the only woman he’d ever been with that outdid him faster than he could return the favour. You could feel the way he kept shivering, grinding a bit harder each time, desperate for more friction and his hands went to the waistband of your jeans but you grabbed them, stopping them.
“Nope.”
“Sugar…”
“Too bad,” you said and held them up above his head as she sighed, letting his head fall back and you used your free hand to undo the belt and button, stopping and tracing a finger along the zipper as he jumped.
“Sugar…please…”
“No,” you shot back and did it again, resisting the urge to chuckle when he jumped a second time, hips leaving the sofa like some kind of bucking bronco, eager for a rider.
“I will flip you.”
“Try,” you said and he got a bit loud. “Wait…Holly and Leah.”
“Fuck me…”
“Closing in on that,” you said and he moaned in annoyance as you laughed, keeping your voice low and pulling more fabric out of the way, Holland practically scrambling, desperate to return the favour.
“Can I?”
“Sit there and watch,” you shot back and stepped back, shimmying out of your jeans as he slumped down, already spent and you sped up your pace before he lost himself without you. “Don’t get too excited.”
“You are actively killing me.”
“Come on…Land…keep it up.”
“Oh it is,” he muttered and you admitted he was correct, moving back in place, his hands going to your thighs the second you got close enough, a kind of anchor. “I have been waiting for this.”
“It’s been like three days.”
“Too long,” he shot back and you were about to laugh at him for being too eager when he sat up a bit, shifting and every noise you had died in your throat. “Oh…look how the tables have turned. Is your own medicine here to bite you in the ass?”
“Land…”
“Say it more…I got a few in.
“Holland,” you tried again, a bit more desperate and he shifted. “Hollanddddd.”
“God…”
“See…”
“Fine, fine, be that way,” he muttered and teased you a second time, your hands moving from his chest to his shoulders to have something to grip to keep you upright as your thighs went a bit lax. “Don’t die on me. We still have a case to solve.”
“Not…just…”
“I’ll pick up the pace,” he assured and you didn’t need to ask what that meant, everything so damn sensitive that it took barely an inch to light you on fire.
Maybe teasing a man who adored it was the wrong idea since it only made him more fired up and as Holland thrust himself upwards, touching parts that he was perfect at finding it was like the whole of that couch had faded. All it was, was you and him, lost in a sea of bliss and pleasure, in your own little world for not the first time, but the first time it mattered. The first time was ages ago, back as teens with an entire summer of nothing planned and he offered a chance to feel something new. From that moment, on a lakeshore in Northern California you knew you were screwed.
Now sixteen years later it felt exactly like that first moment, body alight with every sensation as Holland whispered encouragement into your ear and talked you through every motion of his hips. There was no worry about going back to Jeremy in the morning or the guilt of lying to him, of assuring he was the only one when that simply wasn’t true and you were there just to feel something more. But there was no more of that, you could stay as long as you wanted, curled against the chest of someone who actually cared about you for the first time since a man who didn’t said, “I do” in front of a group of people you didn’t even know.
But Holland was different. He was everything and more.
A couple hours and a shower later…one definitely not taken alone…you were sitting on the couch and staring at the case with a frown, leaning your chin on a fist. You stretched out a bit and reached forward, grabbing it and pulling it open, spotting a manila folder on top among all the other papers, the name Gibson written in black marker and you sighed, pulling it out.
“Finally opened it?” Holland asked as he walked back into the room, dressed in sweats not jeans that hung low on his hips and a faded UCLA t-shirt.
“I had to,” you said and he sat next to you, putting a hand on your shoulder for moral support as you breathed in deep and pulled open the folder, spreading out the contents on the table in front of you.
“That is a lot.”
“It goes all the way back to 1958,” you said and grabbed a newspaper clipping that detailed an accident at a factory in Modesto that killed three people. “Wait…He scribbled it out.”
“What?”
“The number,” you said and ran a finger along where Will scribbled out three and wrote two. “Only two died in that accident.”
“I’ve always heard three.”
“My father was there and was one of the three,” you said and had no idea he was a part of a Gibson accident and sighed before looking through more papers from 1958. “Look…this is detailing a second one that happened a week later but it’s on the same day as that article.”
“So…three people did die?”
“But not in the same one,” you said and looked deeper, grabbing a report from the scene that detailed the two workers who were crushed by faulty equipment and frowned when it also clearly stated your father was there, they had a safety officer on sight. “This says dad was there, he was present for the accident that killed two people but he also died in the one that killed three, the one that got printed. These did not happen on the same day and if I’m reading this right, are completely isolated.”
“Your dad saw it happen, tried to stop them and…”
“He was killed,” you muttered and frowned. “They covered up the first two until a week later and had them print a story that labeled it as all three when it was always two. They had cops on their payroll that allowed them to cover it up and even someone at the paper who changed the details and acted like it was a three person accident when it was only two. The third never saw the light of the day because to everyone but the records Will found at the department in Modesto, it never happened.”
“Sugar…they didn’t just cover up an accident…”
“They covered up a murder,” you deadpanned and dropped the papers back in the case as you sat back, eyes wide and brain too full of new information. “This would ruin the entire company. A murder being covered up for twenty years is no small thing.”
“It could convict Moira, especially if she also killed Will.”
“Two murders. Doesn’t sound like the kind of business that should stay in it,” you said and he nodded, packing up the papers and closing the case before handing it over. “We’ll tell Leah in the morning and then bring all of this to the precinct in Modesto. They’ll know what to do with it.”
“I agree,” he said and moved to take the case back to his office when a window across from you exploded and a canister was thrown through, smoke filling the room. “Shit!”
“Land!”
“Get down!” he called and threw himself over the top of the couch, patting down his pockets and letting out another curse. “Shit…these aren’t my gun pants.”
“You have gun pants?”
“Jeans with a holster,” he shot back and rolled his way closer to the kitchen as the window exploded a second time and the sound of heavy boots hit the wood floor. “I just got this place redone.”
“Holland,” you hissed out as he stood, reaching into a cookie jar and pulling out what looked like a revolver.
“What…it’s true. They have no care for the work that goes into interior design,” he shot back and screeched when one of the said men began to shoot at him, missing and hitting a vase on a table. “Antique!! It was from a shop in Santa Monica you absolute bastards.”
“We have more pressing issues than vases!” you shot back and popped up from behind the couch but immediately dipped down when a guy aimed his gun, blowing off the top of the pillow. “Do you have any more guns hidden around here?”
“Cookie jar only, I have a child,” he shot back and you rolled your eyes.
“Yeah and maybe a cookie jar is the worst spot with one of those,” you hissed out as he moved out from behind the wall and shot a guy in the leg, watching as he went down but was quickly replaced.
Holland also pointed the gun up and shot the main light in the room which plunged the living room into darkness and left you scrambling to try and figure out where the assailants went. You cursed his plan but knew it was a smart one and caught one of the guys as he began to make the trek towards the spare bedroom and Holly’s room and your heart dropped. You cursed and jumped up, grabbing a fire poker from the fireplace he had never used because the home was in California and trailed after him as Holland tackled the one left in the kitchen. The man was dressed in what looked like body armour, the kind a cop would wear and you knew he had to be a part of whatever police force was on Moira’s payroll. He might have been armed but he had a vulnerable point and you wielded the poker like it was a sword, aiming it towards the guy and hoping it’d land when he turned.
“Shit,” you muttered and he grinned, grabbing your shoulder and tossing you against the far wall as the breath was knocked right out of your chest. “God damnit.”
“Moira sends her regards,” he said and aimed the gun as your eyes widened.
“Hey asshole!” Holland called and you turned right as he bodied the guy but it wasn’t fast enough, he squeezed the trigger and a burst of pain hit your shoulder.
You had never been shot before, the worst injury was a broken wrist after Jeremy insisted that rich people needed to be able to ride horses and the pain was immense. You hissed out and grabbed your shoulder as Holland continued to beat on the guy but he was faster and bigger, outfitted with armour and it didn’t take him long to toss him off. Holland soared through the air for nearly a minute before he slammed into the hardwood of his living room, head bouncing and was out for the count.
“Holland!” you called and the man turned, tossing his gun aside and standing over you, foot primed as you whimpered in pain.
“A gift from Gibson,” he said and slammed the heel of his boot onto your face as the entire world went dark.
You woke up with a groan, still in the same spot and with a small puddle of blood sitting underneath your injured shoulder. Your brain was a mess, foggy and slightly delirious but you could make out what sounded like skin on skin contact and turned to spot Holland hammering on a guy in body armour, begging for him to tell him what happened. You blinked, not picking out a lot of their conversation minus the name Holly and your stomach dropped. You pulled yourself up from knees to feet and hobbled over to her door, pushing it open to find the place empty, Holly’s bed a mess along with the rest of the place as if she fought like hell trying to get away. You smiled, proud of her but it didn’t do her any good, she was still gone and you had to assume the goon underneath Holland was partially to blame.
“Where the fuck is she?”
“I…I don’t.”
“Don’t fucking bullshit me…where is she?” Holland said and slammed his fist against his face, already breaking an already broken nose as the guy groaned.
“Dude…stop…I don’t know…”
“Holly was taken by one of your men, they took her and knocked me out. I want you to tell me where she went or else I will drive this revolver up your fucking ass and blow your brains out that way…got it!!”
“Jesus dude.”
“Don’t fucking Jesus me and also…while you and your assholes took Holly you also grabbed Leah.”
“Leah?” you asked and stepped into the living room as he looked up, eyes softening a touch until they landed on the injury on your shoulder. “Where is she?”
“This fucker won’t tell me.”
“Hey…you…stop him before he kills me.”
“How many revolvers are in that cookie jar?”
“I always keep two,” he said and you walked over, digging a hand in and grabbing it and taking out every bullet but one before resting the gun on the guy’s forehead.
“Have you ever played Russian Roulette?" you asked and his eyes widened. “I have once, never went far enough to almost kill myself but I assume there’s a bit of a thrill in it. I am going to ask six questions so you have 6 shots. One will kill you, the rest will not. Lie and I pull this trigger.”
“Jesus Christ!” he called and tried to scrambled away but you pressed a foot to this calf and kept him in place.
“Who hired you?” you asked and he stared, mouth set in a thin line.
“I don’t…”
“Nope,” you muttered and pulled the trigger, the gun clicking but not going off. “Who hired you?”
“Moira Gibson,” he admitted and you smiled.
“Good. One down. Why did you take Leah and Holly?”
“She asked. Paid well.”
“Are you cops?”
“No…private.”
“Is she after Will’s research?”
“She told us it was imperative that we only get the two of them…not the case.”
“God…Of course she did.”
“Why?” Holland asked and turned to me.
“She knows Jeremy died because of me, this is punishment,” you muttered just as Holland’s phone rang and you walked over, grabbing it off the wall. “Moira.”
“Hello.”
“You’re a real big asshole,” you stated and she chuckled. “Where is Leah and Holly?”
“They are both fine! Safe and sound and trying to bite my poor guard. I know you killed Jeremy, accident or not and discovered what we’ve been trying to hide. I want you to bring me what Will found, in a shiny and clean case and I’ll hand over Leah and Holly like nothing happened.”
“Why do all of this? Steal them.”
“Because I can,” she said and you could see her smirk through the phone. “And I felt like showing you what it means to mess with me. We may be family…oh sorry…former family…but still.”
“Got it,” you said and looked at Holland who was still half kneeling on the guy. “And Holly.”
“Tell that PI friend of yours that he made a mistake trusting you. This is what happens when he gets involved with a person like you. He calls you Sugar? Also tell him to change it…I think bitter fits better.”
“Will do.”
“See you tomorrow, no later than 5pm. We’re meeting at that factory in Modesto, I’m sure you’re intimately familiar with it.”
“I have my past with it,” you muttered and she wished you luck, hanging up as you slammed the phone back on the hook and wandered over to the goon, slamming your foot against his nose and knocking him out.
“So?”
“Tomorrow…Modesto…bring the papers.”
“But…”
“Tomorrow…Modesto…she gets what’s coming to her.”
“I like the way you think,” he said and moved away from the goon, rubbing his hands on his sweats since his knuckles were all bloody.
“Holland…”
“I know,” he said and moved over to the cabinet below his TV, pulling out a bottle of bourbon and not even using a glass. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not you,” he muttered and sat on the couch as you followed. “It’s me.”
“Land…”
“No…it’s me. I did this. Holly was here and I should have left her with Healy, Leah as well but I assumed this place was safe, that she would be safe and look at me now. She almost died during that Misty case, ended up in a limo with a guy who wanted me dead and then the old house during a shootout and a hotel where she again…could have died. Marie told me to keep her safe and look at what I’ve done.”
“Hey…Holly can take it.”
“Sugar…”
“No…My turn,” you said and sat next to him. “Holly is strong like her dad and can handle herself even at her young age. I know you feel like you failed her, feel like you let her get too restless or too old but you’re doing good by her. Holly is going to run this town one day and it will be because she had a dad who wasn’t afraid to remind her she can do anything. My dad was like that, he would tell me to be the best I possibly could and far beyond it and I can assure you that Holly is learning all that and more from you, Holland.” You placed a hand on his shoulder as he grabbed his head, pulling on his hair as a sob racked through his body. “You are a good dad Holland, doing the best he can in the worst possible circumstances and you can’t ever forget that. Okay?”
Holland nodded and turned, wrapping you in a tight hug and you let him, feeling as he dug his forehead further into your shoulder. You held him tight, let him get it all out as so many years of feeling like he was nothing and suddenly being told that wasn’t true. You knew about his exploits and all the times he got himself into trouble and also all the stuff that he had ever done for Holly. Birthday parties spent at bowling alleys letting her win, only the best toys money could get, a house with a view and a pool and a future. A lot of it was more than a lot of people could ask for and now Holly was stuck with someone who could care less and grew up with a father a lot worse than Holly’s.
“We’ll get Leah,” Holland assured and pulled back as you reached up and ran a thumb along his cheek.
“And Holly,” you added and Holland dipped forward, pressing his lips to yours for a fleeting moment before you curled against his side. “Moira won’t know what hit her.”
“You…you will hit her.”
“Maybe,” you mused and he laid back, pulling you with him and you fell asleep on the sofa, eager for a long drive in the morning but for the moment…a fleeting moment.
The house was at peace.
Modesto, 1978
The factory was a five hour drive from LA and it felt like walking into a bad dream when Holland pulled the convertible out front, stepping out and adjusting the shoulder holster he had under his jacket. You hoped that it would be easy, hand over the papers, get them back and then raise hell but knowing Moira it would be anything but and your heart pounded as he gave you a nod, stepping through the open doors to find Moira sitting at a table in the middle of the place with a cup of tea. She was surrounded by heavy machinery and catwalks and yet looked perfectly innocent, like her own company didn’t cause a handful of deaths to happen right there in that building. Moira was a ruler watching her kingdom burn and she finished the mug of tea before standing.
“Welcome.”
“Where is Holly and Leah?” you asked and she scoffed.
“So eager,” she said and nodded to the two other chairs. “Sit…we need to talk.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she offered and you sighed, sitting as she said as Holland followed. “I have some confessions to make. The first is that I’m not a full blood Gibson. My father had an affair much before Jeremy and Jordan were born and had me, my mother gave me up for money and he raised me as his own. When the twins were born when I was five I was cast aside and knew they’d take over, I’d get nothing. When he died and left Jeremy all of it, I appointed myself as a helper, someone to do all the paperwork as he sat there and looked pretty. But then you appeared and suddenly I had more competition so I drugged Jeremy and he attacked like I planned and you finally got a shot at retaliation. Thank you, killing your own brother is not my style.”
“What about Will?”
“Will was an accident. He wasn’t meant to die, just fall asleep till Jordan could grab his papers in the morning but the idiot got him drunk and when I gave him the drugs it was too much for his system to handle. I’m sorry.”
“You killed my brother and father,” you said and looked over at the very device that killed him, a newer model but a piece of machinery with a pulley system. “You covered it up.”
“My father did.”
“And then you kept covering it up,” you shot back and placed Will’s case on the table. “You killed the guy in ‘68 with a faulty truck because he was another safety officer who wanted to get justice for his employees. Both he and my dad had the same plan, reveal it and even though he took your deal, you still killed him to tie up some loose ends. Why?”
“Money. Always money. We control it all and this factory is one of the best, I didn’t want to lose it. If anyone found out, it would ruin it all and I wouldn’t be able to split the money with my darling brother.”
“I’m finally gonna get that fund!”
You turned and sure enough Jordan was there, holding Leah’s arm as she tried to get away, hands bound and her mouth gagged.
“All this for money.”
“It’s how the world works.”
“Why drag Holland into this?” you asked and nodded at him. “He and Holly are innocent.”
“No I’m not,” Holland said and you raised a brow. “The Misty case was about catalytic converters. I stopped it sort of, people saw that film and saw what people were doing and the car industry changed.”
“Gibson lost 550,000 dollars in the last year.”
“That’s why you were fine with Sugar hiring me.”
“Two birds with one stone,” she muttered and smiled.
“Well you can’t kill us, it would be too obvious and those papers won’t do anything about the converter case.”
“No…but it would be fun,” she said and pulled out a gun, aiming it at Holland whose eyes widened.
“Look…all I want is my daughter and I will never…never talk about Misty or converters again.”
“Holly is fine,” Moira assured and pointed the gun up as the top lights of the factory turned on to reveal Holly tied to a catwalk above the two of you.
“Shit.”
“Chop chop Mr. March,” she said and he took one look at you as you nodded and Holland ran off, going for Holly which left you alone with Moira. “Thank you for killing Jeremy.”
“What if I didn’t?”
“He’d be dead anyways, you sped it up.”
“You killed your own brother.”
“Half…I was never Moira Gibson…my last name is Tittlecock.”
“Oof…don’t keep that.”
“I have already changed it.”
“I feel so bad for your future kids.”
“Never wanted them.”
“Blessing to us all,” you assured and pushed the case forward. “Here you are.”
“Like that?”
“A deal is a deal,” you said and she called over Jordan who left Leah tied up behind you and walked over, looking down at the case with his eyes narrowed.
“Open it.”
“Why not you?”
“Because I’m the face,” she said and Jordan sighed, flicking the locks and pulling it open, looking inside the case and giving her a nod. “I think we’re okay.”
“Let me see,” she said and moved it so they were both looking inside as you scooted your chair back, waiting patiently. “I don’t get it, what--”
She was cut off when the case exploded and a red dye pack exploded in both their faces as you jumped back to avoid the spray and rolled to get back on your feet before getting over to Leah. You weren’t going to just hand it over, nor were you going to show up empty handed and had stopped by Healy’s on the way, getting a few accessories he had on hand, dye packs among them. They both looked up, blinking back dye that would stain for a very long time as you cut the bindings off Leah’s hands and pulled the gag out of her mouth.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Moira Tittlecock exclaimed and you grinned, handing Leah Holland’s keys and telling her to run.
“Thank Jackson Healy!!” you called and bolted after Holland who was halfway to Holly and had the real papers stuffed inside the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
You ran up a set of metal stairs, getting to the second floor and then to a catwalk as the same armed men from before appeared, guns in hand and Moira shouted at them to shoot to kill, screaming about her dyed face. Holland was halfway along the largest catwalk, trying to untie Holly who was rambling about how much she pissed off Jordan on the way there and you loved the smirk on his face, like he was the proudest dad on the planet and he was.
“A success?” he asked and you nodded, kneeling next to Holly and using the pocket knife in Holland’s pocket to cut her free.
“Genius.”
“Think of it more often,” you shot back and she wrapped Holland in a hug as he grabbed her, running her off the catwalk and to the second floor of the warehouse. “We gotta get out of here.”
“Up there!” a man shouted and you cursed, dipping down low as a shot went wide before diving for Holland and grabbing a pistol he had on his person.
“Sugar?” he asked and you peaked out for a second, nailing a guy in the leg as his jaw dropped.
“I took shooting lessons.”
“When?”
“During the eight years I didn’t work. I can also shoot a bow, a rifle and have a black belt in karate.”
“You were going to mention that when?”
“Eventually,” you shot back and he pulled out a revolver as you stood to nail another guy when a second snuck up behind you.
He was faster and bigger and like a mirror of what happened only days ago, knocked you off balance and over the railing that was much too short to be safe. You scrambled to grab something, anything but couldn’t and thought falling from a second floor was a pretty ironic way to die when you felt yourself slam into the wall. You looked up and sure enough Holland grabbed you by the wrist, nearly leaning off the second floor himself as you breathed in deep, taking in too many lungfuls of air to really get any at all as he pulled you up.
“Sugar?”
“God…” you said and wrapped him in a hug. “I love you.”
“WHAT?”
“I knew it!” Holly exclaimed and you rolled your eyes, giving him a long and deep kiss that you definitely did not have time for.
“Soon,” he said and you grinned.
“Keep that promise.”
“Always,” he shot back and grabbed Holly as you made your way back towards the entrance, thinking you were in the clear when a click sounded and you both stopped, spotting Moira with a gun and an angry look on her red face.
“Hold it!” she exclaimed and Jordan also appeared, gun as well and stepped forward, grabbing Holly before you could move and pulling her away from Holland.
“HEY!” she exclaimed and tried to attack him but he held her tight.
“Let’s all calm down,” Moira said and you shoved your hands in the air as Holland did the same. “Where are the papers?”
“I don’t…”
“WHERE!” she called and shot the ground by your feet as you nodded to Holland he pulled out the small wad of them. “Hand em over!”
“Moira…”
“No…you fucked up my plans and my face…it’s my time now. Hand them over.”
“No,” you said and stepped forward as Holland raised a brow. “I’m not.”
“Get out of the way. Jeremy married you to keep you quiet, he knew you’d go looking and made sure you met and he was some kind of fucking gentleman and ruined your life so he could get what he wanted. You are NOTHING but a useless housewife.”
“No,” you declared and she sighed, sounding tired. “I’ve done a lot and I told a good friend…someone more than a friend, who has been more, that he was better than he dreamed and I might have to follow that advice.”
“Who…March? The washed up PI who had one good case?”
“No…Holland March, the PI who saved LA once and can do it again and is one hell of a dad and partner. Right, Land?”
“For now and forever,” he assured and you smiled.
“Forgive me,” you said and Moira raised a brow as you ran forward and she freaked out, shooting you square in the chest and sure the impact hurt but you kept going and slammed into her, knocking the two of you to the ground.
“Forgive you for what? Being a badass?” Holland called and you chuckled as Moira stared at you in shock, looking over at Jordan but he had also gotten smacked around by Holly and was currently on the ground, curled into a fetal position.
“DON’T! STOP! I have a will to live, arrest me,” Jordan called and screeched as Holly pointed an empty revolver at his head.
“She’s 14 and that gun is empty,” Holland deadpanned and Jordan looked at him.
“14?”
“And a half,” Holly added and Jordan sat up, brushing off his red stained clothes.
“I wasn’t scared,” he admitted and Holly rolled her eyes, accidentally pulling the trigger and he screamed, curling back into his ball. “NO STOP! GET AWAY! It has to be loaded.”
“Huh…is he always like this?”
“Pathetic and whimpering?” you asked and stood, pointing your own and loaded gun at Moira who looked defeated. “Most of the time.”
“You are officially not the weakest man I know,” Holly assured and handed Holland the gun as he frowned.
“Did she mean me?” he asked and you shrugged.
“I think you’re strong,” you said and he smiled, walking over and pulling you into a kiss just as a group of cops arrived that weren't being paid off and grabbed Jordan before moving to Moira.
“Moira Gibson…but she prefers Tittlecock.”
“God…I wouldn’t,” the one said and you chuckled as he guessed your name and you nodded. “I knew Will. He was impressive.”
“She killed him and Jeremy Gibson. Not to mention was involved in a lot of coverups.”
“I’m sure the Modesto PD will be happy to hear all of it,” he said and you nodded, handing over the stack of papers.
“Credit Will with finding it.”
“We will,” he assured and you nodded, leaving them to grab her and you were happy she kept her mouth shut, glaring at the cops with her red stained face.
“Well,” Holland said and you nodded.
“Yep.”
“We did it.”
"We did.”
“We make a good team.”
“Us and Healy,” you said and pulled back your button up to reveal the bulletproof vest he insisted would come in handy.
“We could be the Nice Guys and Girl?”
“One time thing,” you said and he nodded. “I think I might teach.”
“Where?”
“UCLA,” you said and he smiled. “I’d need a place to live in LA.”
“I have a spot, it’s a bit shot at.”
“Does it have an antique vase from Santa Monica?”
“Got shot yesterday,” he said and you chuckled.
“God…deal breaker.”
“Sugar…”
“Yes, Land.”
“I love you too,” he said and you nodded, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close.
“Took you long enough.”
“Yeah.”
“Are we good?”
“Better than good,” he assured and kissed you deep, pulling you flush against him as Holly cheered from behind you both. “What do you say Holly?”
“Took forever,” she said and you rolled your eyes, turning and wrapping her in a hug.
“Be careful Holls, I have bowled a 280.”
“No way!”
“Yes way,” you assured and walked out to find Leah waiting by the car and wrapped her in a tight hug.
“Thank you.”
“For Will,” you said and she nodded, patting her stomach as your eyes narrowed. “Really?”
“I didn’t want to tell you.”
“For them to,” you said and she nodded, getting in the backseat as Holland and yourself grabbed the two front ones.
He started the car and you grinned when the chorus of “Baby Come Back” by Player began to play through the speakers and Holland turned it up.
“Baby, come back, any kind of fool could see,” he began and Holly groaned. “There was something in everything about you.”
“DAD!”
“No, let him have it,” you said and grinned, turning it up. “Baby, come back, you can blame it all on me. I was wrong and I just can't live without you.”
“They are correct,” Holland assured and you chuckled, grabbing his hand.
“Have never been more correct!”
“You two are gross.”
“Be careful what you wish for Holls.”
“No…I’m glad,” she admitted and you smiled, feeling the wind in your hair as Holland drove the three of you back to his place, away from Modesto and bad memories and towards a whole new and whole brighter future.
Los Angeles, 1980
Moira Tittlecock as she was named and Jordan Gibson were both convicted shortly after the altercation in Modesto. Jordan for aiding and abetting her and ironically tax evasion on his dumb little trust fund and her for murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, assault, drugging, covering up a murder and a million in one more things. Jeremy’s girlfriend in San Francisco, a lovely woman named Ally, handed over full control of the company to you in exchange for 500,000 and you gave her a million just for the heck of it since it wasn’t her fault her baby daddy was married.
Gibson Manufacturing was shut down, you knew it would be and the company’s assets had to pay off all the settlements and lawsuits, thousands of unanswered injury claims that someone else handled and not you. You got all of Jeremy’s untouched assets and after selling both his and Moira’s houses had a bank account with nine digits total and a smile on your face. You gave Leah a lot and her and her daughter, Willa moved to Seattle for a fresh start and she met a nice guy with a bright smile and no crazy ideas about being a wannabe PI.
You also gave a lot to the other victims of Gibson and sure that account dwindled but you didn’t mind and had spent long enough being a rich housewife and got that UCLA teaching job like you told Holland you would. It was a whole new life, a new job and a new you, one who wasn’t forced to play a part by a man that didn’t love but some things stayed the same and you found yourself inside Marianne’s on a friday like nothing had changed.
“Meeting March again?”
“Yep,” you said and grabbed the vodka off Hurley with a smile, this time with more cranberry than not. “Always.”
“You should come here to just hang out and enjoy the place.”
“Too busy,” you shot back and groaned at the thought of next month’s schedule from finals week to Holly’s bowling league and Holland’s big case in Santa Monica he was taking soon, it was going to be one hell of a May.
“Hey, leave some in this bar for me.”
You smiled and turned, spotting him behind you in his polyester suit, a flashy button up beneath and a smile lighting up his face. Holland March, looking like you had just seen him that morning and you had, woken up with a kiss and a coffee, perfect like the other four hundred times he had made it.
“You’re late,” Hurley said and you chuckled.
“He’s forgiven.”
“Special treatment for spouses?” he guessed and glanced at the ring on your finger.
“Not till June.”
“I’m making her wait like she did to me,” Holland added and you rolled your eyes, sucking back the rest of your drink and standing. “Pool?”
“Always. What are we playing for?”
“Loser cooks dinner,” he suggested and you sighed.
“You're better at dinner.”
“Laundry?”
“Deal,” you said and kissed him deep, drinking in his scent of smoke and bourbon that had lolled you to sleep every night since Moira was arrested. “Go rack them.”
“Aye aye, Mrs. March.”
“Not till June.”
“We’ll see,” he shot back and walked off as you sighed and handed Hurley a twenty dollar bill.
“Drinks are half off.”
“Not for that, for what you said in 1979, about us being good together.”
“And?”
“You nailed it,” you said and he smiled, handing the bill back over.
“A wedding gift.”
“Never change Hurley,” you said and walked over to the pool table where Holland had racked the balls and was waiting for you, leaning against an edge with shirt sleeves rolled up.
“Heads or tails?”
“Heads,” you said and he nodded, tossing the coin up in the air. “Finally.”
“Go get it Sugar.”
“Scared Holland?”
“Never,” he assured and you aimed at the white back, pulling back and breaking the collection of pool balls with a grin. “Nice one.”
“Should we up it to laundry for two months?”
“What about a room?”
“We have one at home,” you said and his heart soared at the mention of a room. “How about a closer wedding date?”
“Eager much.”
“Not for the day, but for the night.”
“Soon,” he assured and kissed your cheek, lining up his shot.
“Keep that promise!” you called and he smiled, hitting a striped ball into a pocket and the game started.
You knew he would…he always would. For now and forever.
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Summary: When Driver ends up at a small town diner after escaping LA, he doesn't expect to meet you, the very woman who wants to leave more than anyone. When you offer him help after he refuses a doctor, you see beneath a man on the run as he tries to convince you leaving isn't that scary and maybe...all you need is a small push and a man with blue eyes and a sad little face.
Warnings: Mentions of blood and a pretty bad injury on Driver but most of this is all fluff.
Tags: Drive 2011, The Driver, fluff, he speaks more in this, smalltown diners, smalltown aesthetic, being stuck and being helped, he's a softie, we just gonna pretend this man survived okay. He lived in my heart.
NOTES: Set after the events of Drive(2011), as if Driver survived and just kept going.
AN: Hello!! Got inspired by Drive which is amazing btw, and decided to write something short and sweet for one of my fav of the Ryan's. I love Driver, he's adorable, bestest boy and deserves an AU where he's happy. Dividers by @strangergraphics
Still the Same
“There's something inside you, It's hard to explain, They're talking about you, boy. But you're still the same.”
Middle of Nowhere
For years you had wanted an escape, a grand exit like someone was holding the string that tied you to your hometown and had finally cut it. But for the moment, it was pulled tight, locked around your wrist like a cuff and things had never been anything but the same. The place was small, a blink while on Main Street and you’ll end up on the outside of town type of place with people who knew all and wouldn’t keep their mouth shut about what it is they knew. They infected social lives with town gossip of who dated who, who married that year and what crazy person left to go and find something not contained within three streets and a handful of streetlights.
You weren’t that brave and were scared that since your ID said you were born there, one day it would also say you died there. Obituary ending up in a small town paper with the ending line, “she was loved by all who knew her, the population of a town situated between Nowhere and Nothing.” Maybe one day you’d end up there because you got married to some farmer with a good collection of land and a house with a porch built for two rocking chairs and nothing more, simplistic and easy, the exact life you were destined for. Your mom appeared years back, gas tank empty and didn’t leave when it was full because a man told her she looked pretty in the checkout line of the singular grocery store. She dressed in lace and baby blues, attended church and baked cookies for Sunday brunches and never did the one thing you wanted to do…leave.
Exodus was nothing but a chapter in a bible you no longer fully believed in, not a truth, not a thing you could do, nothing but a dream. A dream that made you restless, hands twitching as you poured coffee for a trucker who stopped in the small diner you worked in. A neon sign out front declared it was open and named after some pun involving waffles that everyone liked to comment on. You dubbed it jail, the trap you built for yourself and gave him a warm smile, heart of ice heavy in your chest as he called you a sweetheart and went back to his midnight cup of coffee. And you meandered back to Janet, a woman who also never left and leaned against the counter, brushing a hand along the lace trim of your apron, tied in a bow around the waist of a baby blue dress.
“Slow night,” Janet muttered since her sentences never got bigger than three words, spoken with a clipped tone like she hated talking.
“Quite,” you said and she frowned.
“Sal has extra food.”
“From dinner.”
“From lunch, a sandwich.”
“I’ll eat it on break,” you muttered and glanced at the clock, shift only half over and let out a sigh, grabbing a freshly made pot of coffee and doing a round.
The diner was open all day and all night, the one spot in the whole of your nowhere town where you could grab something to eat after 8pm on a Wednesday and was a haven for truck drivers. Most of the time, they were the only people you served and had been debating on asking for a ride for years but didn’t, chose to still stay, make some money while doing online schooling a couple days a week and it was finally done. You graduated with a degree that was impressive enough to do something else and had a letter sitting on your kitchen table, the whole of your future printed on A24 paper with a stamp in the corner.
“I finished my degree,” you said and Janet nodded. “I could leave. I applied for a teaching school but it’s in Raleigh.”
“That’s far.”
“A whole new town,” you agreed and sighed, watching as the door opened and a man walked in, keeping his head down as he sank into the booth in the far corner.
“I wonder what his problem is.”
“Long night,” you guessed and grabbed a mug of coffee before walking over. “Coffee?”
He looked up, eyes bloodshot and nodded, resting a hand on the tabletop as your eyes narrowed at the redness on the leather of his fingerless gloves. It was the kind of red that was concerning, that bloomed from places it shouldn’t and you half debated calling someone to help when he grabbed your hand. It wasn’t rough, it was gentle, the most gentle grab you had ever felt, as if he was scared of holding on too tight and making you leave.
“Uh…”
“Coffee is enough,” he muttered and you nodded, giving over the mug and also grabbing a collection of napkins, ignoring the red on his white jacket.
“Can you give me a half hour?” you asked and he looked at you like you’d hit him. “I need to tell her I’m leaving, you need help.”
“No.”
“Not a doctor. I can help, I live across the street in the apartment above the hardware store and have a pretty good first aid kit, a gift from my dad.”
“Okay,” he said and sat back, sighing and drinking half his cup of black coffee as you smiled and wandered back to Janet, pulling off your apron.
“I’m leaving early.”
“Why?”
“I know him, an old family friend and he needs my help.”
“What’s his name?”
“Uh…Mike…It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Be…”
“I got it, I’ll be careful. But don’t worry, I know he’s fine,” you said and didn’t believe it for a second as you punched out, grabbing a couple sandwiches and a key lime pie that had been made three days back before pulling on your coat.
He was still sitting there, mug empty and staring at the tabletop as he breathed heavily, red stained white coat heaving and you swallowed hard, taking a seat across from him. He didn’t look up, eyes still locked on nothing but you reached out, gentle as can be and placed a hand on his, fingers brushing against the burgundy leather of the gloves.
“Can I trust you?”
“No.”
“Why are you here?”
“I drove.”
“From?”
“LA.”
“That’s hours from here.”
“I know.”
“If I take you to my apartment you’re not gonna kill me right?”
“Nope,” he assured and there was more trust in that one syllable than anything else he’d said yet.
“Good,” you said and he stood, stumbling a bit but keeping himself upright and trailing after you as you tried to ignore the look that Janet gave you, eyes narrowed like always. “We don’t get a lot of strangers like you. Mostly truck drivers. Why drive here?”
“Not here…just…away,” he assured and you helped him up the narrow outdoor steps to the balcony on the second floor that led to your apartment and dug a key into the lock.
“Well this is a hell of a place to land. We have nothing.”
“I like nothing.”
“You’ll get tired of it,” you said and he chuckled, dryly and struggling but the noise was a welcome change. “Come in. I’ll grab a blanket, take that jacket and shirt off.”
“Are you sure?”
“You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” you shot back and he nodded, doing as you said, pulling off the white coat with a gold scorpion embroidered on the back, white shirt following as your eyes widened.
Despite the very obvious bullet wound, his back was a myriad of scars from years of abuse and you wanted to reach out and trace them, ask about every dip. His skin told so many stories, ones you wanted to beg to hear, to have him whisper in the dark of your apartment or on nights when the nowhere town ran out of power because of a storm a county over. But there were more pressing matters like the splotch of blood on his lower stomach, the source revealing itself as a bullet wound that had an exit on his lower back much to your relief. Sure it likely hurt like hell, even worse from driving for so many hours but if he was still moving around, it meant it didn’t hit anything important and your new houseguest wasn’t about to drop dead.
“Well…it exited,” you deadpanned after he had taken a seat on your blanket draped couch. “So that’s good and it means you won’t die because I’m not a surgeon. I have some gauze and padding so you won’t bleed out either but there is a story to be told.”
“About the wound?” he guessed and you chuckled.
“Yes, about the wound,” you assured and reached forward, gently wrapping the gauze around his midsection until it was tight as he stayed tense, barely breathing until your hands left his skin. “Grammy Merna would tell me all about the perils of California but she left out the guns. Was she wrong or is this a special case?”
“Got wrapped up in bad men, took care of it.”
“Clearly,” you muttered and stood as he moved back, leaning against the back of the couch with a sigh, finally looking a small bit relaxed. “You never said your name.”
“People at home called me the Driver.”
“Do you drive?”
“I drive,” he agreed and you chuckled. “What is your actual name?”
“That was always the ironic part…my real name is Driver.”
“Driver is one hell of a name.”
“Ended up doing what I was named for,” he shot back and you nodded before telling him yours.
“I was not named waitress so I’m not following fate.”
“Should be named saviour,” he shot back and you chuckled, moving to your small kitchen and grabbing him a glass of water.
“Just ended up in the right place.”
“Fate sounds better,” he said and leaned back, drinking back half the water as you smiled. “Without you I would’ve kept going.”
“Any stopping point?”
“When I couldn’t drive anymore,” he shot back and you frowned.
“Good thing you stopped before that.”
“Needed coffee, first place open for miles,” he said and stood, cringing but continuing and looking out the window, face framed by the neon greens and blues of the diners sign.
When you got the apartment the glare of that sign pissed you off, always there in the background like a reminder that the place was as far as you could get, living across the street from work. But now…as it made the blue of his eyes pop and the dips and divots of the scars on his shoulders stand out like they were made with the utmost care you loved it. Maybe all the window needed despite a good clean was a fresh face to look out of it, someone who could still appreciate neon signs and 24/7 waffle themed diners on small country roads that cut through a nowhere town like a river.
“Butter Me Up?” he asked with a laugh and you groaned.
“Waffle pun. It sells.”
“To who?”
“Truck drivers with no sense of humour,” you admitted and yawned. “I’m beat. Take the couch, I brought out some blankets and some clothes from my dad in a bag on the chair. There’s a bathroom by the front door, fully stocked and even some plastic wrap so that the bandage can stay dry.”
“You trust me not to rob you and run?” Driver asked and turned, hands crossed across his chest, still coated in the blood stained leather gloves.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“You don’t look like the robbing type.”
“What do I look like?”
“Someone who stopped less for a coffee and more because he had to.”
“To die?”
“To hope someone like me would offer some help,” you shot back and he looked away, gaze not meeting yours and you knew you had figured him out. “Sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Wait…”
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” Driver said and you knew he meant it.
“Of course,” you said and moved into your bedroom, changing into a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt before getting into bed, listening to the road outside your bedroom window as people drove through your town.
You were glad that he chose to stop, to grab that coffee and accept your help and hoped that he’d be there when the morning light made the place look less lonely.
Driver stayed.
He slept on the couch like you told him to and woke up to the smell of bacon cooking, finding him slumped over the stove in your small kitchen, eyes narrowed as he made sure the breakfast was perfect. You raised a brow, leaning on the doorframe in a robe as he cracked an egg into another pan and let out a curse when a piece of shell got in, scrambling to fix it as you chuckled and he looked up, eyes widening.
“Sorry.”
“Why?”
“I used your kitchen.”
“I barely use it, it deserves it,” you said and nodded out the window at the diner. “I normally eat there.”
“Do you work a lot?”
“Most nights,” you admitted and took a seat at the breakfast nook, wishing it wasn’t full of papers. “I split my time between there and online school.”
“For?”
“Education,” you admitted and he made sure the eggs wouldn’t burn before turning and moving to lean against a counter, giving you his full attention. “I want to be a teacher.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“The schooling I need is out of state, in North Carolina and sure I have enough money but it’s far…out there and I’m not…I’m here.”
“But you could be out there.”
“I could,” you said and sighed. “My dad died six months ago, he left me all his money and told me to leave, to get out of this place and see the world but I didn’t…I stayed.”
“Why?”
“Too scared,” you admitted and he scoffed. “Here is small but familiar. I know every face and when John at the grocery store gets the good apples in. I wouldn’t know any of that in a big city, wouldn’t even know myself.”
“Did you get in?” he asked and turned back around, plating the eggs and adding some toast and bacon before walking it over to the table. “To the school in Raleigh?”
“No…Or…I don’t know.”
“You don’t?”
“This is my ticket,” you said and grabbed a letter from North Carolina State University. “It arrived two days ago.”
“And?”
“It has stayed like this for two days.”
“Not going to open it?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re scared,” he accused and you nearly dropped your fork at that very bold accusation. “That letter is your excuse. Never look at it, never get an excuse.”
“Never look at it, never be disappointed,” you shot back and he rolled his eyes. “I’m not like you, I don’t pack it all up and drive with a bullet wound in my stomach, hoping to crash land in some town.”
“You may not have the bullet hole but you do have the pain,” he pointed out and you never would’ve invited someone so philosophical into your house.
“Still keeping it sealed.”
“Maybe by the time I leave.”
“Are you?”
“Maybe. I need to keep going, find myself somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know,” he admitted and sipped his coffee. “That gunshot was done by a man who wants me dead…he’s dead too but he had friends, angry ones. I left LA to get away from that and I don’t think I’m far enough away yet.”
“This town is pretty empty, you’d fall off the radar.”
“Maybe…but I can’t take that risk.”
“At least stay long enough to relax,” you suggested and glanced out the window at the sun shining. “It’s sunny today and there’s a lake not far from here, could be a nice change.”
“The bandage?”
“Don’t swim,” you shot back and he rolled his eyes. “Come on…I grabbed some sandwiches and a pie from work, it’ll be fun.”
“What kind of pie?”
“Key lime.”
“Nah…I’m more of a lemon meringue guy.”
“Driver…”
“What?”
“Come on.”
“I can enjoy limes,” he muttered and you rolled your eyes, finishing off your breakfast, changing and grabbing a few items as he stood by the front door, eyeing the blood stains on his white coat.
“Here,” you said and handed over a black jacket that was Yankees themed and hoped that he was secretly a fan.
“Not a baseball fan.”
“It was my dads.”
“Why?”
“He can’t wear it,” you said and Driver nodded, grabbing it and pulling it on, smiling at the fit and shoving his hands in the pocket. “Perfect.”
“Maybe I’ll end up in New York and wear it to a game,” he muttered and you nodded in agreement, grabbing your bag and following him out to his car, a smile on your face.
The car he drove was nice by the standards of someone who didn’t know cars and was black and sleek looking, an older model with nice but worn tires since he drove it to the brink for hours on end. He admitted he didn’t get all the way from LA to your small little town in one night, it took three days and he slept in the back seat on the side of the highway and in truck stops, avoiding people until he met you, the first person who begged to offer some semblance of help. He took it because you looked as desperate to give it as he was to receive it and liked the tenderness in your voice, even though all you did was offer him some coffee.
“Been here your whole life?”
“Forced to,” you admitted and he raised a brow.
“Mom lived here, had me and died here. It felt like it was in my blood.”
“Blood is made to be shed.”
“I don’t think that sounds like you want it to.”
“I drive…I rarely speak,” he shot back and followed your lead when you told him to turn, pulling onto a dirt road that led to a lake you loved, the one good thing in your town.
“You’re talking with me?”
“I have exceptions,” he shot back and parked the car in the lot, slipping out and grabbing your bag out of the back and handing it over. “This was worth it.”
“Wasn’t it?” you said and smiled, making your way down to the shore of the lake and spreading out a picnic blanket that had seen better days. “This place was like an escape from the rest of the town, a small piece of something new.”
“You could leave.”
“Driver…”
“I know.”
“I can’t,” you muttered and grabbed a wrapped sandwich from the bag, handing him one and he nodded in thanks. “It’s a big world out there…full of people and I’m just me…sitting here and staring at a lake I’ve stared at a hundred times before and will continue to stare at until I die. Like my mother and father.”
“Or you could open that letter.”
“What if it says I made it?”
“Leave,” he suggested and you rolled your eyes. “Back in LA, I got all mixed up in that stuff because of a woman named Irene and her young son, my neighbours and she had a husband in jail and he got out and went right back to it. My favorite day with them was at a place like this, a piece of paradise in a city of nothing.”
“You were in LA,” you said and he shrugged.
“Even big places can be full of nothing. I lived there, worked there, almost died there. LA felt as lonely as a place like this with one road and very few stoplights.”
“See that's why I'm worried about leaving, at least I know people here, I have the diner and my coworker Janet. Maybe one day I'll also have a nice guy with a piece of land and a smile.”
“Sounds like a boring life.”
“At least I’m not driving forever,” you shot back and shoved the plastic wrap in the bag before heading towards the water, pulling off your shirt and shorts and stepping slowly into it, feeling the coolness start around your ankles.
You went further out, feeling it run up your legs and onto your chest before sinking deep into the cold water and embracing the bit of shock that always came with dipping into a cold lake in early spring. It brought you back to your dad and his love of the place, the way he called it magic and would spend his time in the middle, catching fish to roast on a fire as you swam like there was no tomorrow. Today there was a tomorrow and you looked back at the shore to find Driver was missing, a pile of clothes in his wake and in seconds the man popped up out of the water, blonde hair slicked back and a smile on his face.
“What about the bandage?”
“Excuse to get close,” he shot back and swam closer, able to touch thanks to his height as you clung to his chest, laughing and shaking droplets off the top of your head. “You should open the letter.”
“Driver…”
“I brought it,” he said and your eyes narrowed.
“You stole my mail?”
“Sorry.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve more than this town. It deserves you, you make it better but you need to leave it and find yourself in a new place with new people.”
“Come with me.”
“I can’t,” he said and you frowned. “The people after Irene won’t stop, they know I lived.”
“Change your name,” you said and got even closer, clinging to him.
“Driver fits too well,” he shot back and you chuckled, dipping your head down as he reached up, kissing your forehead. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“For a coffee,” he said and you looked at him closer, hands pressed to his cheeks as you ran a thumb under his eyes. “And the help.”
“I wasn’t about to let you bleed to death.”
“No…but you could have,” he muttered and you rolled your eyes, wrapping him in a hug, shivering despite yourself since the lake was cold, not warmed yet by the summer sun. “You could have moved on, treated me like another customer.”
“Maybe I was looking for an escape from that shift as much as you were looking for help.”
“So…not at all?”
“No,” you said and he laughed, blue eyes brighter than last night, catching the reflection of the few beams of sunlight getting through the clouds. “When are you leaving?”
“Soon.”
“Stay,” you said again and he shook his head. “If you won’t stay…kiss me.”
“I…”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fair.”
“No…but I want it,” you said and it felt rash, like a bad choice but Driver complied, dipping his head down and capturing your lips in a kiss that was barely there.
You grabbed the back of his neck with both hands to deepen it and he complied, kissing you harder as you hooked your legs around his midsection and pulled him closer, swaying in the cool water of that lake. You had a sneaking suspicion you were never going to see him again, that he was going to drive out of that town like he was destined to and leave you to wonder what could have been. But you had that moment, that small piece of something more and rested your head on his chest after he pulled back, staying in that water until his legs began to shake, they were so cold. You moved back to the blanket and Driver pulled the letter out of the pocket of the Yankees jacket you gave him, draping the fabric across your shoulders and nodding for you to break the seal and see what your fate was.
“Are you sure?”
“Come on, drive off.”
“Very funny,” you muttered and he smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and leaning back as you followed, practically laying on his chest as you pulled open the letter. “Alrighty…God…”
“Would you like me?”
“A stranger I just met…sure.”
“Here we go,” he said and grabbed the letter, skimming it with the world's greatest poker face as you bit your lip. “Alright…”
“And…”
“Well…” he began and read out your full name, a smile on his face. “We here at North Carolina State University would like to congratulate you on acceptance into the professional development program for teachers this coming fall semester. Please register for classes no later than August and we’ll be happy to see you in September.”
“Well then.”
“I guess you’ll have to move to North Carolina,” he said and you nodded.
“I guess I will.”
“Maybe I’ll go to Raleigh one day.”
“Maybe I’ll go to New York,” you said and he chuckled, remembering the suggestion. “We’ll run into each other and before you even speak, I’ll remember your name.”
“Maybe,” he agreed and you closed your eyes, drifting off to the sound of his heartbeat and wishing the day wouldn’t end.
New York, Somewhere
Driver left.
During the night he got up and left, getting in his car and never looking back and you woke up to an empty apartment like he was never even there, only a blood stained jacket in his wake. He also left a note of encouragement to go and see your dreams come true and you took it to heart, selling the apartment, telling Janet to screw off and getting in your car and never looking back, making sure to wash that jacket before you left. It became a staple piece of your wardrobe all through the two years of school, a reminder of someone you helped when he finally decided to stop and hoped that he’d found somewhere safe. You had no way of contacting him, he didn’t leave a number on that note and you assumed a guy like him didn’t carry a phone. He was an enigma that you had spent the last 4 years looking over your shoulder for when you spent less than 14 hours together.
But it felt like more and you sighed, paying for the coffee you bought and heading out into the city since you were even crazy enough to move to New York, getting a job at a private high school and a small apartment with no neon lights shining through the windows. You even still wore his coat, bundled in the one thing besides encouragement that he left behind and sipped the latte in hand, holding the cup for warmth since that April was chilly.
“Did you drop this?”
“Probably not,” you said and turned, not interested in whatever the guy was pulling when your eyes widened and you spotted him standing there, dressed in that black Yankees jacket like nothing had changed. “Driver.”
“You remembered.”
“I said I would,” you told him and placed the coffee on the edge of a trash bin before wrapping him in a tight hug as the guy picked you up. “You made it.”
“I’ve been here a few years.”
“Still driving?”
“Always,” he assured and you chuckled. “But for better people. A good company and I got this tiny place with a view of some trees. Spend most of my time at a garage, fixing up cars, was always what I enjoyed.”
“Those men never came looking?”
“They gave up. Maybe I could have stayed.”
“I couldn’t,” you admitted and he nodded, grinning. “I also stole your coat.”
“It looks better on you.”
“I think so too,” you shot back and he chuckled. “We should catch up, it’s been a while, I have a lot to say, a lot to discuss and…”
“We should,” he agreed and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Are you free now?”
“Why?” you asked and he smiled before digging into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a set of keys.
“Care for a drive?”
The ending is a bit ambiguous haha but I like to think it worked out, maybe even one day he went back and told Irene he lived. But for now...picture you and him, driving into the sunset. Also expect more for Ryan and his cast of characters who I adore....a massive Holland March fic is next!!
I haven't been around tumblr in a bit haha...got swept up by Ryan Gosling and have also watched almost his entire collection of movies...I have 2 left....but among that I am planning a fic....IDK how many people have seen the Nice Guys but Holland March has stolen my heart. Be PREPARED. It'll be 70s, it'll be murder, it'll be horny, it'll be awesome and it will also be 20k words long when I set my goal for 8....HEH...But if you like Ryan and like comedy, watch the Nice Guys then come read it LOL!
That's Holland March btw...ain't he a cutey. Let me know if you wanna be tagged.
Link to the fic!!!:
💬 2 🔁 1 ❤️ 16 · Can't Live Without You -- Holland March X Fem!Reader · Pairing: Holland March x Female Reader
Words: 22,004(WELLLLL)
Sum
Also I checked and the longest fic for him is 3.5k....
So....Synopsis below the cut!!!
Can't Live Without You
Holland March X Fem Reader
"Baby come back, any kind of fool could see. There was something in everything about you. Baby come back, you can blame it all on me. I was wrong and I just can't live without you."
You've known Holland March since you were ten years old and always thought of him as the jokester and the slacker, the guy who played a little too hard and suddenly had to pay for it. When it results in a child, a daughter, he drops out of college before he can graduate and you assume you'll never see him again. But after his wife died you started a tumultuous affair and ended up seeing each other every few months, never really admitting any feelings or admitting the fact that you married a few years before. But when things in your own personal life start to go wrong, you call upon Holland, the newly minted number one PI for some assistance and find yourselves locked in a battle for not just survival but the good of all of LA. Now you and Holland have another shot, another hope to reconnect and as you follow the clues and uncover a conspiracy, things get increasingly more dicey and lines slowly start to blur.
It will not be posted here but I recently finished a 55k word oneshot, sort of oneshot for Ryland Grace from Project Hail Mary but...it's an X OC so Tumblr doesn't get it. But it's on A03 if anyone wants to check it out.
Synopsis:
To the Stars
Aster Ward isn't like her family, she had no desire to touch the stars until they started dying. Her father, a world renowned jet propulsion scientist who died of a heart attack on the ISS which left Aster, a journalist, not a scientist with absolutely no one. But when the sun starts dying, she takes a job to document the project tasked with saving it, the Hail Mary. Aster doesn't expect much and is pleasantly surprised to meet Ryland Grace, molecular biologist, nerd extraordinaire and the only man on the planet who cares more about her than her family.
When Ryland is thrust into space against his will, Aster joins despite her lack of training as a means to continue her documentation. Any other time this would be insane, but this is also the end of the world. When she's woken up to discover it's only her, Ryland and the vast vacuum of space, things get interesting. As Aster tries to get Ryland to remember her, to remember their connection and the reason she came all that way they encounter something extraordinary...someone. Now Aster, Ryland and their mysterious new alien buddy, have no time at all to save the world and as Ryland's memories return and Aster begins her documentation, things start to accelerate and relationships begin to reforge.
For you only go out of the way to reach the stars, for a very specific type of person.
Set mainly in my OC's I perspective and follows the whole movie with book scenes added in. Also features an Asexual Ryland Grace because in my head he is. Please let me know if you end up checking it out!
Also look forward to some x Reader for other Ryan characters and maybe some Grace as well. Thinking of doing Colt Seavers, Holland March and I have a funny idea for Ken as well.
Heh....da what 😀. Oh my god...thank you all, this is actually insane. Thank you for enjoying these little stories and watch it...we got more coming with a whole new man. I recently watched Project Hail Mary and a certain Canadian made me want to write some new fics for some new men. Like this one...
Summary: Six months ago you moved to Pittsburgh for a fresh start, one that looked like an escape from a marriage that ended years ago and a chance for you and your daughter to be safe. When you start a new job as a night shift nurse for PTMC you meet the attending Jack Abbot, a man with a heart of gold who doesn’t like to show it and for some reason calls anyone he likes sweetheart, you especially, even though you assume he'll just walk away like everyone else. But Jack doesn’t walk, he plants his feet in fertile soil and always intends to see it through for your problems are his and all he wants is for you to be happy. You, the very person who believes she doesn’t deserve it and the man who would do it all over again as long as he could possibly give you all the stars in the sky far above the dark and lonely hours of your shared night shift.
Warnings: Lots of mentions of abuse, you as the reader have an abusive ex who does appear and does retaliate twice both verbally and physically, mentions of guns, with one shown. Aggressive and abusive patient, towards you. Medical trauma, procedures, surgery and injuries because of abuse, allusions to suicidal thoughts. If Domestic Violence is triggering, please avoid.
Tags: The Pitt, slight spoilers for season 1 none for 2, Jack Abbot, Robby appears, Shen, Ellis and McKay appear, angst, majorly angsty, fluff, hurt/comfort, you are a nurse, 10 year age gap(Jack is 48, you 38), reader has hair long enough for a bun, no use of Y/N.
AN: Jack Abbot time baby. This may be my best work...Especially the last few thousand words of it. Also please heed those warnings, this one is a doozy. Dividers by @wispyxfae
Give You the Sky
“If I could grow wings, I would do anything. Just to keep you with me. Can't you see. If I could fly high, I would give you the sky.”
PTMC
Night Shift --- 3:30am
Six months ago you had no idea what your life was going to be. You were stuck in a two bedroom house on a quiet country road with a husband who claimed that women didn’t need to work. Your job was to grab him beer, cook roasts every sunday and make him the happiest man in the world despite a nursing degree under your belt. But then you had enough, you grabbed all your stuff, picked up your daughter from a sleepover and ran, consoling her on the way that she would have to make new friends come September. She was upset and you felt bad but Pittsburgh was a fresh start and PTMC was a new space to grow and get better and so far it had been pretty damn good. You trusted Amelia to stay home even at only 13 so you worked night shifts, running around an ED and making a real difference for the first time since you graduated with the degree. It felt correct, like you were exactly where you belonged and the staff at PTMC had only made it better.
But a lot of them had no idea you were a single mom on the run, avoiding calls from strange numbers and always looking over your shoulder. At work you felt safe, protected and within a space where a huge part of the goal was keeping nurses like you safe and protected. Outside PTMC was where it got scary and you spent a lot of time at home, hiding in the dark and waiting for him to find you, to go looking for the woman who arguably stole his daughter right out from under him. But he was never really a father, just posing as one and letting you do all the work, all the house cleaning, all the parenting while he sat around and complained that his construction work didn’t make him enough money. You would’ve helped if he let you, would’ve put your skills to good use but he was always the controlling type and at least you got that freedom now, in the bowels of the ED.
“Well…I think that should be it,” you muttered and administered some extra pain medication to a woman with a broken wrist.
“It feels better.”
“It’s what morphine is good for,” you said and she smiled, attempting a thumbs up but wincing. “I get the gesture.”
“Thank you.”
“Ask for a Dr. Ellis if you need anything more,” you said and she nodded, giving you a smile as you walked out of the room and sighed, stretching a bit since there were still four hours left and a mountain of work.
“How’s 3?”
“She’s good,” you said and added some more to a chart as Dr. Shen hovered above you, iced coffee in hand like it was glued to him.
“Abbot has been looking for you.”
“Why?”
“He has this mother in four with a kid and I think he needs you to be there to placate the little bugger.”
“He can’t?” you asked and already knew the answer as Shen laughed, loud and overly obnoxious. “I’ll find him.”
“He’d been asking for a sweetheart,” he said and you rolled your eyes at Abbot’s nickname for apparently every nurse he deemed his favourite and yet he only used it on you.
Dr. Jack Abbot, night shift attending, and the first to welcome you to the pit when you arrived, hell bent on making the place the best workplace it could be. He was always there to lend a hand on a difficult case, offer up advice for the weirder patients that came in and even place a hand on a shaky shoulder, a bright smile on his face. For someone who had been surrounded by bad men her entire adult life, he was a good one and you had been towing the line between friendship and something more for a few weeks. You felt like it was too soon, too much had happened but all Abbot saw was a woman who was as brilliant as she was beautiful and his…
“Sweetheart!” Abbot said with a grin as you caught him outside the room, a smile on his face despite the time of night.
“Dr. Abbot,” you greeted and cocked a brow when he shook his head.
“Call me Jack.”
“We’re at work,” you pointed out and looked around the ED as he shrugged.
“I don’t mind.”
“Dr. Abbot,” you repeated and he sighed. “What do you need?”
“I have a woman who came in complaining of chest pain and we need a CT and some other scans and her son won’t let us. He’s attached to her and I assumed you could calm him down enough to spend some time away from mom.”
“Why me?” you asked since only Ellis knew about your daughter.
“I don’t know,” he admitted and crossed his arms. “You just give off the correct energy.”
“Wow…”
“Did you drive here?”
“My car is in the shop so I took the bus,” you admitted and cringed at the thought of that public bus that smelt like a mix of BO and old cheese.
“I’ll drive you home and grab you a coffee.”
“All for doing my job?”
“And for saving my ass,” he added and you rolled your eyes but sighed and followed him into the room where a kid not older than six was snuggled against his mother who was asleep. “Ethan, I have someone for you to meet.”
“No…”
“I promise I’m nice,” you said and the kid looked back, eyes full of tears. “Ethan right?”
“Yes.”
“My good friend Jack here needs to do some scans on your mom to make sure she’s okay and we can’t have you there,” you said, voice kind and overly compassionate as the kid began to soften. “I know you’re scared but your mom is in the best hands and I trust Jack with my life.”
“Really?”
“Always,” you agreed and felt his hand on your shoulder as you got in close to Ethan, smiling to yourself and lowering your voice to a whisper. “Between you and me…He is the best doctor in the building.”
“He is?” the kid asked as you glanced back at Jack who was smiling.
“He is,” you agreed and the kid sighed, sitting up and you helped him off the bed as he held your hand tight and watched as a fellow nurse helped to move his mom out of the room.
You and Ethan watched her go and he moved to a small chair to sit and wait as you sighed and turned to Jack, the same smile still plastered across his face. You told yourself he was simply pleased that you could get the kid off the bed, that you could make it so he could treat his mom but you saw below that smile, knew it meant a whole lot more.
“Your patient,” you said and he nodded, giving your shoulder one last pat before following the kids mom out of the room as you sighed and sat next to him. “Do you like Bluey?”
“Of course.”
“Good, me too,” you said and got an episode ready, handing the phone over to Ethan.
“Was he your husband?” Ethan asked and laughed at a joke from the show as your cheeks reddened.
“Uh…nope…”
“He acts like my dad.”
“Huh…he’s just nice.”
“Yeah…my dad is nice to my mom,” he agreed and went back to the show as you cursed him and his lack of filter for putting too many ideas inside your head all at once.
Jack Abbot was just a friend, an excellent doctor and a pretty good coworker and nothing more, with no extra thoughts lingering below the surface like a five yr old with no clue about love was suggesting. Adults could be nice to each other and still just be friends, they could smile wide and pat their shoulders and blush all the time and nothing could be going on below the surface. But your mind and stomach whirled at the thought of him, so much that you were starting to take Ethan’s words to heart.
A few hours later, you were walking towards Abbot’s car with a smile on his face as he mentioned a patient he helped right before he clocked out, a kid with a big smile on his face who desperately wanted to get rid of his loose tooth. He managed it…he got rid of the loose and the perfectly healthy one right next door because instead of tying it to a string he slammed the entire front part of his face on his bedframe. After some major pain meds for the broken nose and a dentist recommendation the kid was all smiles and assumed he was getting two dollars and not one after his genius. You and Jack both found it hilarious much to the annoyance of his parents and the very much not free US healthcare system but at least the kid was okay and the shift overall wasn’t half bad.
“I thought you always go to the roof?” you asked since he didn’t that day, he just walked right out with you.
“Only sometimes. Normally when the days get real hard.”
“Today wasn’t that?”
“No it was not,” he said and unlocked his car, a 97 Ford Ranger XLT as you jumped in the passenger seat and hated to admit it was the most Abbot car, Abbot could buy.
“It was a good shift. I had fun,” you admitted and he smiled.
“I’m glad,” he said and grabbed a pair of sunglasses off the dash since it was just starting to rise as he breathed in deep, taking a moment before starting the truck. “So…what’s your go to for coffee?”
“You are going to hate me.”
“Never.”
“Just wait,” you said and he raised a brow. “I always go to Starbucks.”
“Oof…that has to change. Do you have time?”
“Why?”
“Because my favourite place is only good if breakfast is involved,” he said and you nodded with a smile as Jack grinned, shoved the truck in drive and headed off as your heart fluttered in a way that you assumed Ethan would approve of.
Abbot’s perfect coffee shop was a small one covered in plants called Maritime Cafe that overlooked one of the three rivers that crossed through Pittsburgh and you allowed him to order what he thought was good before following the man over to a small park. The morning was already perfect, cold but nice out and very few people were wandering around a park at 8am which you were grateful for as you texted Amelia to grab some waffles and head off to school on your own. You didn’t tell her why you’d be late, just that work was busy and it seemed to placate her as you took a sip of your iced latte, Jack eagerly awaiting the review.
“Oh wow…what is that?”
“Iced oat and honey latte.”
“Wow…”
“Better than Starbucks?”
“A million times better,” you said and he smiled, taking a sip of his own, the same but with a bit less creamer. “How’d you find the place?”
“A guy at my support group loves it.”
“Support group?”
“For vets,” he said and you nodded, slowly, not hearing about that aspect of his life. “You didn’t know?”
“It’s only been six months.”
“I guess,” he muttered and smiled.
“What?”
“It proves this isn’t just pity talking,” he said and you raised a brow. “I’ve had coworkers who only agree to morning coffee because they pity the traumatized attending who goes to support groups and can’t sleep in a bed most nights. You didn’t know, you’re here because of me.”
“How long did you serve?”
“Only about 5 years. I went to pay for medical school and got training there and became a field medic. It was a lot of fun when you weren’t getting shot at, those guys can sure joke.”
“I assume it lingers.”
“Yeah…laughs mainly…” he muttered and swirled the iced latte in his hand as you bit the croissant sandwich in thought. “I don’t remember the screaming, or crying or blood…but you never forget a laugh.”
“Means they were happy,” you said and he nodded. “At least for a moment.”
“Enough depression,” he said and chuckled. “Why did you move to the city?”
“Uh…” you began and tried to think of an excuse that could cover a reason as big as an abusive ex husband. “I got divorced and needed to live somewhere that wasn’t a small town.”
“Valid,” he said and held out the cup and you gave him a cheers. “To finding peace in Pittsburgh.”
“Peace,” you agreed and the morning changed into a quiet one as you enjoyed the sun rising above the river and sipped on your coffee so long it got watery by the time it was done, but neither of you cared.
PTMC
Night Shift --- 1:45am
Two months later and you were enjoying a pretty run of the mill shift, joking with Jack whenever you saw him and enjoying Shen and his iced coffees since you were also hooked. Sure it was the iced honey latte like Jack suggested all those weeks back but you loved them and always had a cup nearby, refilling whenever you found the time. The patients had been pretty standard for an early Tuesday morning and nothing had stood out and you hoped it would stay that way when Ellis bumped your shoulder. You glanced up and frowned when you realised she wasn’t smiling, she even looked a bit annoyed and you stood, worried something had happened to her.
“Anything the matter?”
“I have a patient and I need you.”
“Isn’t Ally your nurse?”
“She is but this one needs you.”
“Okay,” you said and followed her to North 3 as she dismissed Ally and directed her to the kid with the coughing fit you were working on before. “Why me?”
“My patient…she…she recently left.”
“Oh,” you said and glanced at the woman inside the room who was nursing what looked like a broken wrist. “First time?”
“Yep.”
“Husband?”
“Boyfriend.”
“God,” you muttered and Ellis nodded in agreement as your hands began to shake.
“I’m sorry…”
“No…I am perfect for this,” you admitted and sighed before giving Ellis a nod and pulling open the door, introducing yourself as the new nurse in charge of her care.
“Why the switch?” she asked and you sighed, taking a seat.
“I left eight months ago,” you admitted and her eyes widened. “My colleague, Dr. Ellis assumed that I’d be a good fit.”
“You did?”
“I did. I left and never went back.”
“How many tries did it take?”
“That was my eighth across twelve years of marriage and two years of dating.”
“He did all of that after so long?” she asked and you nodded. “I was only with Marco for a year but he just got so angry and it all came to a head after he used my twin to get me this appointment for a breast augmentation, she pretended to be me and signed the forms.”
“Your sister?”
“Yeah…Lilly and Holly, always the same, not when Holly got pregnant and they grew and I didn’t want kids so he chose the next best thing. When I came home still a B cup he threw me down the stairs and I ran, ended up here, with you.”
“I am very grateful you chose to run after that.”
“Me too,” Lilly agreed and smiled. “What was the trigger for you?”
“We have a daughter,” you admitted and sighed, hands shaking so you squished them between your thighs to make it stop. “Eight months ago I came home and found her crying which was odd because she’s not a crier, never has been, even as a toddler and she was sobbing. This is a girl who broke her ankle playing soccer and tried to keep playing, she doesn’t get upset and yet she was and I was terrified.” Your mind flashed to that day, seeing her curled in a ball against a wall, hands over her head and sobbing. “I confronted Chris, my now ex partner and he claimed she was a brat and needed to be told what to do more often. He wouldn’t elaborate, was too drunk to even see so I got Amelia alone and asked and she said she left a cup on the sink and he freaked out and threw the cup at her. It missed or else he would not be alive but she was scared, she didn’t think her own dad could be that mean, I always kept it away from her, added my own bandages and closed the bathroom door when it got bad. That was my last straw…I packed up our stuff and ran three days later when he went on a business trip.”
“How has it been, being away?”
“An adjustment…but it’s the best thing I could have done for myself and for her and sure she might’ve been a bit annoyed but she loves it here and I have hope that we’ll be safe for a very long time.”
“I hope so…” Lilly sighed and glanced at her wrist that was purple and swollen as you moved closed and placed a hand on it, applying a bit of light pressure to ground her and she looked like she appreciated it.
“No matter what anyone says you did the right thing for you and a man like that doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t deserve anyone. You’re not weak for running, Lilly,” you began and she looked up, eyes filled with tears. “You are in fact the strongest person in this entire ED.”
“Thank you,” she said and you smiled.
“Ellis will likely order an x-ray for that wrist and a head CT but you should be okay and we have an excellent social worker here named Kiara and a couple therapists if you need some help.”
“I would like that.”
“I can also call an organization here in Pittsburgh that specialises in these cases, if you’d like.”
“I would,” she agreed and you nodded, standing and giving her hand one last gentle squeeze before heading outside to where Ellis was waiting.
“How was it?”
“A lot,” you said and she nodded, wrapping you in a hug. “I need some time.”
“Of course, I can take care of the rest.”
“Get in touch with the therapist on call or a referral for the morning. I’m going to get some air or something…”
“Hey,” Ellis began and you turned. “I heard what happened…what he did…”
“Yeah it was a lot.”
“I’m damn glad I like women, you should try it some time.”
“I once thought about it…but that’s not me.”
“No…you like bright eyed older attendings,” she shot back and you frowned, walking off without another word and hearing her laugh all the way across the ED.
You wondered where Abbot was and stumbled across a trauma room to the south to spot your fellow nurse, a kind older gentleman named Harry fixing the sheet on what looked like a very bloody body as your eyes widened. You stepped inside and tried to avoid the puddles on the ground as Harry sniffled and gathered up some equipment that needed cleaning, likely getting ready to make the body presentable for the family.
“Harry?”
“Oh…sorry…”
“No, it’s okay…what happened?”
“Oh uh…Air force vet…shot himself in the chest, we couldn’t save him. Dr. Abbot tried for the last three hours but it wasn’t enough…he bled out before we could get control of it.”
“Where is Abbot?”
“He said he needed air,” Harry said and you nodded, knowing exactly what that meant when it came to Abbot.
For the last couple of months Abbot had ended up on the roof of PTMC at least once a night, normally closer to the end of the shift, waiting for his longtime friend and day shift attending Dr. Robby but sometimes you found him. There was a spot by the edge that had no railing and one wrong step led to a straight drop down onto the roof of another building and he liked to stand there, staring at it and contemplating life and patients. You caught him in almost a trance a month back after a kid died in a car accident and he had to be the one to tell his older brother that his one bad mistake changed his life forever. It was a bad night and you weren’t surprised to catch him there again, hunched over and staring at the roof like it was built specifically to haunt him. You wandered over and slipped under the railing, standing next to him and leaning on it as he sighed and moved a bit closer, leaning his shoulder on yours and letting out a sigh.
“Hi.”
“How’d you know I’d be up here…”
“Harry,” you said and he nodded with a sniffle. “I’m sorry. I know that must’ve hurt, seeing him like that.”
“I knew him…”
“You did?”
“Mark Connors, he served for six years in the Air Force. Came back with a busted up back and a heck ton of PTSD. He was lost, truly and utterly lost and I had been trying for a month to get him to talk to someone, even me but he refused, claimed he was fine and he showed up here…didn’t even know he owned a gun.”
“You feel like you failed him,” you said and were mildly surprised when he nodded in agreement.
“I feel like I need to look out for people like him, I made it through all that shit and it happened twenty-five years ago.”
“You never felt like Mark?” you asked and half regretted it, assuming it was too deep of a conversation to have with a man who was technically a boss.
“Everyday twenty-five years ago. I never tell someone this without proper context but there was a reason I only spent 5 years in the army,” he informed and stepped a bit away, pulling up his left pant leg.
“Oh my god,” you said and he chuckled. “Sorry.”
“No it’s okay. It’s a lot,” he agreed and smiled. “Mark being here on the twenty-fifth anniversary of this added piece of machinery is pretty funny in a morbid sort of way. I thought I had lost everything when I woke up without this damn leg but maybe I didn't. Maybe I could've lost a lot more.”
“I'm surprised you didn't go into therapy or a veterans hospital.”
“Those guys don't seek out those places,” he admitted and you frowned. “They're like Mark, they appear in an ED with a lot on their mind and sometimes not in the best state. I've seen shootings, stabbings, one guy lost both his legs overseas and got hit by a car two weeks after he got home. The war doesn't stop, it follows you, you learn to always run from something. If we stop we start to lose ourselves.”
It was at that moment that you realized you and Jack were quite similar. Both of you were runners, desperately trying to escape something and both those things felt like a war. In Jack's case it actually was a war, a bad one that took his left leg and changed his life and yours was simply a very angry man, which ironically tended to be the catalyst for a lot of wars. Chris wasn't full of PTSD, he was a normal guy who assumed men deserved the world because his dad taught him they did. You'd met his father once and he had some choice words about women as you and Chris sat outside on the porch and his mom served drinks, dolled up in a polka dot dress and an apron. Frankly that should've been the first red flag but you ignored it because you were young and he was pretty and life seemed so simple. It became complicated when Amelia came around, four months before you were married and you felt obligated to stay because that was what people in rural Oklahoma did, they stayed.
They got pregnant by accident and married the father because they didn't want to be the mom who gets gossiped about by even more moms wearing their polka dot dresses to church on Sunday. When you left, you left to find more and maybe Jack was that more. More life and more assurance that not every man in the world was the same. He showed real emotion towards Mark dying, his cheeks were still wet and you noticed his hands still shook when they weren't tight around his biceps. You moved closer, two soldiers fighting two very different wars but at the moment you were the same and sure he didn't know about Chris but he was helping just by being there. You told Lilly she was the strongest person in that ED without even realizing you also needed to tell it to yourself, you left him, you were in Pittsburgh and not Tulsa and even on a roof, standing in a spot without a railing, you were safe.
And yes it was because of Jack Abbot, it was always because of him.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” you asked and turned, eyes widening when you realised how close you had gotten.
“Looking for me.”
“I needed space.”
“There's a lot of space other than the roof.”
“Maybe I needed the space you had,” you admitted and he grinned.
“Watch it…this could be considered flirting.”
“I'm not in the market for a problematic age gap relationship.”
“I don't think we're that far apart…how old are you?”
“You're not supposed to ask that,” you shot back and he chuckled.
“Okay…how old were you when 9/11 happened. It's the nicer way.”
“Thirteen,” you admitted and noticed that he stepped back a bit. “Too young?”
“I was 23.”
“Only ten years, could be worse.”
“Could be,” he agreed and reached out, hand landing on your waist as you realized he was trying to pull you against him in a way that was subtle. “Sorry…”
“Go ahead,” you said and he nodded, pulling you tight against him as you wrapped your arms around his middle and he let out a sigh. “How long are you going to stay out here?”
“Till it hurts less.”
“I like that idea,” you muttered and sighed as well, closing your eyes and drinking in his scent.
A mix of black coffee, leather and the worry that this was a very, very bad idea.
PTMC
Night Shift --- 12:45am
The one thing that had forever sucked about working the night shift at an ED was the sheer amount of drunk people that tended to stumble through the doors every night. You always saw at least three per night and that night was no different as you administered an IV to one who reeked of tequila and kept eyeing you. You had been told you were the prettiest nurse in the ER and not just from Abbot but a few doctors and had noticed that patients, especially men, tended to perk up a little bit when you walked into the room. You could tell that this guy wanted to say something, he kept glancing up and down your navy blue scrubs, eyes lingering on curves you wanted him to ignore. He was drunk and thought the world of himself and it was making you annoyed.
“God…how do you do this every night?”
“I like helping people,” you deadpanned and he chuckled.
“Is that the only reason?”
“Well I’m not in it for the hours or the pay,” you shot back and he laughed, a loud and boisterous one that grated on your eardrums and made you cringe.
“Also aren’t you a nurse?”
“I am but we need more people to help since we’re short staffed so you’re stuck with me.”
“Lucky me,” he said and smiled as you rolled your eyes.
“Just be happy you only fell and didn’t do something worse,” you shot back and he glanced at the cuts on his legs and felt a welt on his forehead.
“Would’ve been nice to have you require me to get a bit more undressed, check over all my injuries.”
“I would rather poke myself with your IV,” you shot back and he didn’t laugh, he just stared and narrowed his eyes as you went quiet, not wanting to add anymore to his already annoying affection. “Alright…I’ll grab a doctor and you should be okay.”
“I don’t feel okay.”
“Has anything changed?”
“No, but I feel some pain right here,” he muttered and pointed to a spot near his heart as you sighed and got a bit closer.
The guy moved his button up Hawaiian shirt out of the way as you leaned in a bit, hoping he didn’t get hit or something and was bleeding internally which would make your night a lot more complicated. But everything looked fine and you were about to move back, step away and tell the guy to shut up and wait for a doctor when he reacted, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you against his chest. You went rigid, eyes wide as he held the back of your neck in a vice grip and forced you to adjust so you could keep standing, legs shaking regardless since the moment was a direct reminder of what happened with Chris, not the last time, but so many before from the grip to the smell of alcohol on his breath.
“Submissive, I like it,” he whispered and you felt tears in your eyes. “People say that nurses are sweethearts but you…you broke that rule. I don’t like it so you’re going to fix that attitude…”
“Or what?”
You froze, hearing Abbot’s voice from behind you and letting out a short sob that he caught wind of what was happening, that he was there to get you out of this mess and make everything better like he was good at.
“Who’s this?”
“A very angry ER doctor.”
“Really?”
“Your judgement is skewed but you must realise this violates a lot of rules.”
“It might but she was mean to me.”
“I’m sure my nurse is overworked and underpaid and doesn’t like being shit on by assholes who run their mouths after falling off a step because they had too much cheap tequila. You can excuse her indifference.”
“And if I don’t?”
Abbot walked further into the room, stepping right next to the guy in the bed and placing a hand on his shoulder as he eyed him, going to move but he punched him in the face before he could. He jumped, howling in pain and letting go of you as Abbot stepped back, rubbing his knuckles that had a bit of blood on them since it looked as though he also broke the guy's nose and was pretty damn proud of himself for it. You stood, moving to the other side of the room as he nodded to security and they walked in, cuffing him to the bed as he placed a hand on your shoulder and guided you out of the trauma room and over to the breakroom.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” you assured as he grabbed the side of your face and made you look at him, hazel eyes narrowing in thought as he rubbed a thumb along your cheek.
“I’m sorry.”
“That guy was a jackass and drunk, it’s never a good combo.”
“God people are fucked up, nurses work their asses off and this is the thanks they get?”
“I’m fine, Jack,” you said and he nodded, looking away and clenching his hands into a tight fist before he was quick to turn back and pull you into a tight hug, pressing his face to the top of your head as you relaxed in his grip. “I’m okay. Thank you for stepping in.”
“I should’ve punched him harder.”
“I think you broke his nose.”
“Here’s hoping it grows back crooked.”
“It would match his heart,” you said and he chuckled, kissing the top of your head as you froze, eyes wide and he did the same, pulling back so fast it was like he got shocked.
“Uh…I’m so sorry.”
“No…it’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m okay. I do the same to my daughter after she gets her heart broken, I get it.”
“Daughter?” he asked and your eyes widened since you had yet to mention Amelia to anyone besides Ellis.
“Yeah, I have one of those, she’s 13 and thinks she knows everything.”
“They always do at that age.”
“Amelia is her name and she’s a menace.”
“Is it just you and her?” he asked and your heart dropped, mind racing and you hoped he didn’t notice as you wandered over to the fridge for one of the La Croix the day shift nurse Dana left in it.
“Yeah, we moved here together.”
“Does she ever see the ex?”
“No…he was never around,” you said and took a long sip, nose wrinkling at the bubbles as Jack narrowed his eyes.
“Well that man is an asshole.”
“I can’t help but agree,” you said and he chuckled, joining you at the table.
“So…uh…I have something that I’ve been meaning to ask, been a long time coming and I’ve debated on asking before or never…but now I want to bite the bullet and ask, see what you say.”
“What?” You asked, heart pounding as he breathed deep.
“Would you like to get dinner sometime? I know a place that does Italian really well, it's never all that busy…”
“Uh…”
“I swear no one from the ED would spot us.”
“No,” you said and his eyes widened. “Thank you for the offer but I'll have to say no. Maybe another time.”
“Of course, I'll keep the option open,” he assured and patted you awkwardly on the shoulder before clearing his throat and leaving the break room.
You stared into your La Croix and sighed, loud, regretting it almost as much as the feelings themselves but it was too early…he was asking for too much too soon and you weren't ready. Maybe one day, maybe one day soon even but not today…despite it all…not today.
Lana’s Bar
7:30pm
You didn't expect one of the worst days of your life to also be Parker Ellis's birthday but fate has a funny way of fucking people over. Ellis managed to convince you to go to a bar to celebrate her birthday, one near the ED with good reviews and cheap alcohol and you were currently nursing a beer as she tried to convince Santos, a day shift doctor, that karaoke was a good idea. You were sitting next to your personal favourite of the day shift, a woman named Cassie McKay who was also a single mom with an asshole ex and simply trying to make ends meet.
“How has the night shift been treating you?”
“Better than expected, I’m here,” you said and glanced at Ellis who had managed to get Santos up on stage, a surgery resident from the day named Yolanda cheering them on from the sidelines.
“I heard about you and Jack…”
“From who?” you asked and McKay nodded to Ellis as you sighed. “Is it wrong to kill her on her birthday?”
“She’s a blabbermouth, it’s your fault for telling her.”
“I was venting,” you shot back and she rolled her eyes. “Also I said no because it’s wrong to date someone who is basically my boss. I know I’m not a doctor but there’s that power dynamic…that difference in authority kind of a thing…I don’t like it.”
“Bullshit,” McKay muttered and sipped her IPA as you glared. “I think you’re scared.”
“And if I am?”
“Don’t be…he’s clearly crazy about you.”
“You are the day shift, how would you know?”
“A couple weeks back Abbot was still there, finishing up this guy who broke his ankle in an accident and he called me over to take over and mentioned how he was worried about you, you seemed distant and unlike the nurse he knows so well. I claimed it was probably just stress and he asked what he should do, if he could do anything to make you feel better and I jokingly said he should bake you something, you’ve always been a pastry fan.”
“Bake me something?” you repeated and she nodded. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“He brought in a container of brownies a few weeks back and made sure I got one…they were terrible but I didn’t care, he made them.”
“See…”
“Maybe I’ll tell him I changed my mind,” you said and McKay grinned as your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, expecting a call from a soccer camp Amelia had been bugging you about.
Since the job was going well and the pay wasn’t horrible you could afford it and send her off to play soccer with some of her besties for the entire month of July. Her being accepted was going to be her birthday present since it was in May and you slipped out of the bar, walking to an alley a few feet away and answering the call.
“Hello?” you said and smiled but there was no answer and when you pulled the phone back the contact claimed to be an unknown number. “Rude…”
You rolled your eyes and pocketed the phone, pulling your cardigan closer since there was a chill for a slightly rainy night in March and you didn’t feel like catching a cold and missing work. You smiled at the thought of Abbot coming over to your small apartment, making some soup and his horrible brownies and helping you feel better…maybe even in more ways than one. You decided back in the bar to give him a shot but really wanted to at the moment and half debated calling him when you felt someone grab your shoulder.
“Ellis? It’s not funny,” you said and chuckled, but the voice didn’t respond and you were about to look back and chide her when the figure slammed you against the wall of the alley so hard you dropped to the ground, winded and dizzy.
“Been a hot minute,” a voice said and you narrowed your eyes, one of them half shut cause blood was streaming from your forehead as a man you thought you’d never see again was standing above you.
Standing there in dark jeans and a worn leather jacket was your ex-husband, or separated husband at least with a grin on his face as he knelt down, getting closer to your level. He stank of alcohol, the cheap stuff he loved and it was clinging to his breath like mold on bread as you tried not to barf. You assumed he was back in Tulsa, trying to figure out what he did wrong and failing at it but he was there, right in front of you and it felt like the entire world had just caved in on itself.
“How’d you find me,” you said, voice shaky and mouth full of blood since the impact made you bite your tongue pretty hard.
“You should really consider changing your name on Facebook,” he said and you cursed since that had been a very low priority when you moved. “Sure you blocked me but I’ve kept in contact with your best friend, we’re even together and she helped me discover where you ran off with our daughter. Fathers have rights, hun, you should know this by now and this one doesn’t like it when those rights get taken.”
“Maybe if you didn’t threaten her she’d still be yours,” you shot back and he growled, reaching back with his foot and kicking you square in the ribs as you sucked in a deep breath, feeling something shift.
“You have until the end of the month…three weeks…to bring Amelia to my hotel. You will not tell her why, just that her dad wants to see her and she’ll be spending some time in Tulsa so we can reconnect. I would recommend not going to the cops.”
“Why?”
“Because I move faster,” he said and showed off his phone as your breath caught.
On the screen was a live video feed of what looked like your front door and even though it was nearing 9pm, Amelia was just coming home since she had a late practice and spent time with a friend and was waving to the mom in the car. You bit your lip to keep from crying and gave him as he reached back and grabbed your hair, right at the base of the ponytail and pulled your head up so you could look right at him.
“Do we understand?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll leave the address on the ground. Tell her to pack, she’ll need a few months.”
“When will you bring her back?”
“Only time will tell,” he shot back and dropped your head, your forehead smacking on the ground as you cried out and he rolled his eyes.
“I’ll see you in Apirl…sweetheart.”
He walked off, leaving you sitting there and trying to catch your breath but every deep suck in was agonising and you knew that he had to have broken something with that kick. But you didn’t need anyone inside seeing you like that, or someone at the ED, you just needed a bed and a clear head and some way of getting out of the current situation. You had always been a determined person, set on getting out of tricky situations by yourself and this would be no different. You limped home, still unable to really suck in a deep breath and texted Ellis that you got sick from a bad beer and needed rest. She told you to get better soon and you laid on your bed and cried yourself to sleep with Amelia sleeping in the room next door, the one person you cared about protecting more than even yourself.
PTMC
Night Shift -- 12:45am
You spent three days at home resting, hoping that the bruises on your face and stomach would disappear and maybe you could go back to work and actually feel normal and it worked for the most part. Ellis caught the shift, she spotted your slight limp and you made up an excuse about falling down your stairs and needing a couple days to recover which she bought with narrowed eyes but didn’t say much more. You hoped that no one would look too close, spot the bruises hidden behind makeup and you could survive the shift and continue resting at home. But your side was also killing you, deep purple from the bruises and you have debated asking someone to order an x-ray for a patient and show up instead. Chris had one hell of a foot on him, heavy enough to do some real damage and you stopped by the desk after dropping off a chart, eyes going crossed from the pain.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?”
You jumped despite yourself, arm hair raising like a scared animal as Jack clasped a hand on your shoulder and grinned like always. It wasn't his fault that that nickname now scared you, it made you think of him…of his dirtier and the dark alley where no good thing could ever happen to you. He eyed you, looking concerned as you breathed in deep, closing your eyes and keeping the panic at bay since you weren't in the alley, you were with Jack and he was safe. He'd always be safe.
“Sorry. Didn't sleep much last time.”
“All good.”
“What are you up to?”
“Just got done with a patient, came in with road rash and a broken wrist because of a bike accident,” he said and showed off some photos of pretty nasty road rash. “I sent them off to Robby.”
“Still hate the bike?” You asked and he nodded.
“I keep telling that old man that he is an old man and he has to stop but he won't listen.”
“You should move to the day shift so you can berate him all the time.”
“I can't, I wouldn't see you enough,” he claimed and you blushed as Jack grinned. “Sorry.”
“You know I said no to you.”
“Still hurt,” he assured and sighed, wandering off to do something else as you rolled your eyes and felt a sharp stab in your left side.
“Hey!” Ellis called and added your last name as you looked up. “Trauma incoming. Car accident.”
“Right behind you,” you said and sighed, grabbing one last sip of the La Croix on the desk before running after her.
“What do we got?” Ellis asked and turned to the paramedic who was assisting in dragging the young man onto the table.
“Ben Simpson, 24, crashed into a tree going 150 miles, his friend in the passenger seat died on scene. We started to lose him on the drive over but he's stable.”
“Cheers, thank you,” Ellis said and they nodded, running off as you grabbed a pair of scissors, cutting away his pants and revealing a lot worse than road rash.
“Ellis?”
“God that's broken,” she muttered and you nodded, suddenly feeling a bit faint which was odd for someone who didn't tend to feel woozy at the sight of blood. “Hey, you good?”
“Yeah,” you muttered and stepped back as Harry took over, wobbling a bit and grabbing the door jam, your back slamming into Abbot's.
“Hey, what's happening here?”
“24 yr old with a bad tibia fracture after crashing his car into a tree.”
“GCS?”
“Haven't done it yet.”
“Why?”
“Ask her.”
“Sweetheart,” Jack asked and grabbed your shoulder as you took one look at him and his pretty eyes before collapsing. “Shit.”
“Check this,” you croaked out and pulled up the hem of your scrub top as his eyes widened.
“What?” Ellis asked and Jack swallowed hard.
“Massive internal bleeding.”
“What?”
“Call the OR!! Now!!”
“But…”
“Shen!!” Jack cried and the man ran over, sliding to a stop in the doorway as his eyes widened. “Help Ellis.”
“On it,” he said and stepped over you and Jack as he cradled your head in his lap, Ellis making the call for an empty OR.
“Stay with me,” he muttered and ran a hand through your hair as your eyes got droopy, heavy from pain and a regret for not acting sooner, for not choosing to trust him and that mistake might even cost you your life.
“Jack…”
“Stay with me…”
You woke up and immediately closed your eyes, practically bombarded with light and blinked a couple times to force your eyes to adjust, spotting a head of greying hair, resting on a pair of arms as Jack slept at the end of your bed. You shifted, feeling a jolt of pain and felt around your side to find a large bandage and assumed you were in some sort of recovery wing. The last few words you remembered were OR and his pleading voice for you to stay with him and were half tempted to reach out and touch him, run a hand through that hair you loved when someone tapped the edge of the room and you looked up to find Robby. You’d seen him around when he did the hand off from the day shift, tired eyes and often a bit hunched over since he had worked at PTMC for likely longer than you’d been alive…or at least you assumed it felt like that.
“Hi.”
“Hello,” Robby greeted and walked in, stepping with care to not wake Jack who let out a soft snore. “He’s been here for hours.”
“He didn’t go home?”
“Nope, we tried to convince him but he refused.”
“I assume this is a recovery room?”
“You’d be correct,” Robby said and you sighed. “You had a perforated bowel caused by a broken rib, it was causing some nasty leaking and a small bit of internal bleeding. You said that you fell?”
“We have these annoying stairs outside our townhouse,” you said and Robby narrowed his eyes. “I slipped coming home late from Ellis’ party.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you saying I’m lying?” you asked and he shook his head, putting his hands up.
“Never said that.”
“Good…cause I fell,” you assured and Robby nodded, giving your shoulder a small pat before he moved back to the main door.
“Wake him up so he can go and sleep at home,” he said and you nodded as Robby paused, hesitating in front of the door. “Tell Jack. He cares.”
“I’ll tell him I fell,” you said and Robby nodded, sighing and smacking his hand on the door which caused Jack to bolt upright, eyes wide as you rolled your eyes.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re fine.”
“How are you?”
“I’ve been better,” you said and he nodded, sitting up and stretching, eyes heavy with bags under them. “How long have you been here?”
“A few hours. Your surgery didn’t take long and I fell asleep waiting for you to wake up. When you collapsed…” He went quiet and your heart ached, wanting so badly to tell him what really happened but Chris was already in a bad mood and you were worried he’d do something to Jack if he went after him. “I was scared…”
“I’m sorry.”
“No…it’s not your fault. But did you fall? Ellis said you did.”
“I did,” you assured and prayed he wouldn’t see through the lies as he eyed you, watched your face like he wanted to commit it to memory. “I’ll be fine. It was a simple routine surgery and I’ll sleep it off and head back into work like nothing happened.”
“Why didn’t you come in?”
“I didn’t feel it. I thought it was fine.”
“Well…”
“Don’t go all sarcastic on me,” you said and he chuckled, standing and stretching, the hem of his day old scrub top riding up but you weren’t looking.
“Sorry. If you need anything while you’re recovering, call me.”
“Like?”
“Dinner…Company.”
“Oh yeah I’ll be sure to keep you in mind,” you said and he chuckled, giving your knee a pat and walking over to the door, stopping before he walked out.
“I mean it…This isn’t me being sarcastic or trying to get you to say yes…I mean it.”
“You want me to stay with you,” you said and were shocked to see a dusting of red take over his cheeks.
“Yeah…It would be nice.”
“I’ll do my very best, no sarcasm at all.”
“Thank you,” he said and patted the door before he walked out as you leaned back a bit, your smile wide and cheeks warm with the best feeling in the world.
Maybe it was love…maybe it was something more but it was making everything infinitely better.
Your Townhouse
One Week Later
You were all set to head back to work in a couple days, stomach much better than it was when you woke up and your spirit was high despite a looming deadline always in the background of Chris and his plans in April. But you still had time to come up with a way to placate him and chose not to think about it, to focus on Amelia who had two weeks off for spring break and the dinner you made, elaborate and fancy since it had been a while. She was rambling about her excitement for the soccer camp in July since it was her birthday two days ago and you revealed the gift, the big and amazing one she called the best gift she’d ever gotten. You laughed at that comment since she also got a Nintendo Switch to play with her friends online but were grateful that a soccer camp for the summer was enough to please a newly fourteen yr old girl.
“Sylvie told me two weeks back that she’s going and now I am, we’re gonna have so much fun,” Amelia assured as she washed the pan you used for dinner, practically bouncing and getting soap everywhere. “Also the sink of doing that thing again…where the water is really slow.”
“Shoot…I’ll phone a plumber,” you said and reached for the device to do just that when the doorbell rang and your blood ran cold. “I’ll get it.”
“Cool.”
You walked over, half tempted to grab a small container of pepper spray you kept in your purse but chose to look through the peephole instead, see if it was someone worth defending yourself over and to your shock it wasn’t. You eyed the door before pulling it open and spotting Jack standing outside it, a plastic tray of plastic wrapped cookies in one hand and a smile on his face.
“Hello.”
“Hi, sorry to show up unannounced.”
“No problem, we were just having dinner.”
“I can come back?” he asked right as Amelia wandered over.
“Who are you?”
“This is Dr. Abbot from work.”
“Have you ever fixed a sink?” she asked and your cheeks went red.
“Uh…I have before. Why?”
“Can you fix ours? We have tools.”
“I can run home and grab more, I’m not far,” he offered and your cheeks flushed deeper as you cursed your daughter inside your head.
“Perfect, we have more than enough dinner,” she singsonged and wandered back into the house as you turned to Jack.
“You don’t have to fix our sink. She was joking.”
“So it works?”
“Well…”
“I have no plans, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Yeah but you’re…”
“I’m what?”
“We’re having fajitas, come hungry,” you said and grabbed his tray of odd looking cookies as Jack nodded and walked back over to his truck to go and grab the tools he claimed he had a lot of. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“That you need to get out more,” she shot back and grinned.
“Amelia…he’s a coworker…”
“Derek Shepherd was a coworker…didn’t stop Meredith.”
“This isn’t Greys.”
“If only,” she said and sighed, almost wistfully as you dropped the tray on the counter and sucked in a deep breath.
“I might kill you.”
“Hey…he made you cookies…he obviously likes you.”
“No he doesn’t,” you shot back and she grabbed one, biting into it with a smile.
“Dark chocolate,” she muttered and your eyes widened. “I remember them being someone’s favourite.”
“Yeah…so what,” you said and grabbed one yourself since you had to wait for dinner, hating to admit they were both delicious and your favourite.
Touche Jack Abbot…touche.
A little while after Jack returned with his case full of tools and enjoyed the dinner you prepared he was on his knees and looking over the sink which was causing you too many problems. He had also chosen to work without the lower half of his right leg and you eyed the prosthetic from afar, seeing how it connected to what was left, which was a good amount of calf just below the knee. He looked back and caught your stares as your cheeks flushed and you turned back to the bottle of beer you had grabbed from the fridge.
“Alright, I think I got it,” he said and stood, bracing himself on the counter and flicking the tap and to your surprise it worked like a charm.
“Oh my god, you just saved me like hundreds.”
“Tell Amelia to keep an eye on her bracelets,” he said and tossed a small gold chain on the table.
“She’ll be getting a job to pay for it next time,” you said and he chuckled, expertly hopping his way over to the chair across from you.
“The hospital needs someone to drain the bed pans.”
“Oh perfect,” you said and laughed as he did the same, grabbing a sip of his beer. “Seriously…thank you.”
“It’s not a big deal, I’ve been fixing my apartment for years.”
“A bachelor pad?”
“Nowadays.”
“Oh…Did you have someone else there before?” you asked and he nodded, pulling out his phone and tapping a few apps before turning the screen around to reveal a beautiful woman, arms wrapped around a much younger Jack. “You were married.”
“Yep. Her name was Lucy, she died about 10 years ago.”
“Died?”
“Cancer. Thyroid, they told her she had a thirty percent chance of dying and she still did so I stopped believing in odds after that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, she was incredible but it was also a decade ago, she’s faded a bit since then, like my hair colour,” he said and ran a hand through a patch of grey as you rolled your eyes.
“It looks great.”
“Thank you for lying,” he shot back and you rolled your eyes as he pulled out a chain, a pair of dog tags and a wedding band with a small diamond sitting on it. “I keep her close.”
“I bet.”
“You separated right?”
“Yeah, a few months ago,” you said and your blood went a bit cold.
“What an idiot,” he muttered and your eyes widened.
“What?”
“He’s an idiot. Separating from you, he should get checked.”
“What if I was the problem?”
“I find that hard to believe,” he said and leaned down to pull the prosthetic back on, doing it in record time before standing and walking around your kitchen to adjust it, coming to a stop next to a shelf of trinkets. “Any woman who collects porcelain animals is never the problem.”
“Do you know that from experience?”
“My wife collected them,” he admitted and you smiled. “You remind me of her, maybe that’s why I agreed to fix your sink, you both have this spark about you.”
“A spark?”
“Yeah, a spark,” he assured and you raised a brow. “She loved to talk me down off the ledge, did it a hundred or so times since and this might be controversial…she was my therapist.”
“Damn…Wow…Problematic workplace relationships seem to be your thing.”
“Maybe,” he muttered and took his seat back, smiling at you. “She did a lot more than help with my head…she changed my entire life.”
“I wish I could have met her.”
“Maybe you already have,” he muttered, barely above a whisper and your eyes widened as he stood, finishing off the bottle and placing it by the sink. “Anyways…Unlike you…I have to work in an hour.”
“Oh right…you need to get going.”
“I will,” he assured and grabbed his bag as you walked him to the front door. “Thank you for dinner and the company.”
“I had to pay you somehow.”
“Yeah but…I would’ve done it for free.”
“Jack…”
“Yes?”
“About that dinner…”
“Yes,” he said and got a bit closer, the air between you smelling of coffee and leather as you breathed in deep, still scared but willing to risk it.
“I’d like to join you one day,” you said and looked up at him, shocked to see him so close, noses basically touching.
“Can we start with breakfast after your first shift back?” he asked and you chuckled.
“Eager much?”
“Maybe,” he said and dropped the bag on the stoop, reaching up and placing a hand on each shoulder as you swallowed hard.
“I’d like that.”
“Perfect…I’ll look forward to it. Count the days.”
“Stop being such a romantic,” you shot back and he responded by placing a hand under chin, moving it up and forcing you to look into his eyes, those wide hazel eyes with the word love basically written across his pupils.
“You bring it out,” he explained and you chuckled. “I go all soft.”
“I won’t tell anyone at work.”
“Go right ahead, I won’t deny it,” he shot back and was about to lean down, to close the gap when someone honked behind you and you jumped, separating and banging your shoulder against the doorframe.
“Uh…have a good night,” you said and he nodded, hand brushing yours for half a second but he let it drop and grabbed the bag, walking back to his car with a grin on his face.
You waited until he left, shutting the door to the truck with a slam before you stepped inside and closed the door, sliding down it and letting out a loud sigh since it felt like your heart was beating too fast.
“You are so screwed,” Amelia declared from her spot by the top of the stairs since the townhouse was three stories with a basement.
“You shouldn’t linger.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then how do you know?”
“You’re happier than normal,” she shot back and grinned, taking a big bite of one of his cookies. “I like it…and him.”
“You just met him!” you called and she laughed.
“Go get your McDreamy mom, I approve,” she shouted and you sighed, running a hand down your face, cheeks redder than ever.
But a big part of you didn’t care and maybe you were Meredith and he was your McDreamy, the gorgeous attending with a heart of gold.
The First Day
6 Days Later
Six days after he fixed your sink and you were an hour out from the first shift back, nervous as all hell and trying to make your hair look just right. So far it was being pretty annoying and you settled on a messy bun, casual but effortlessly cute and walked out in your scrubs as Amelia chuckled from her spot on the couch, catching the extra effort.
“Mrs. Marge is next door so if you need anything, talk to her. You have a leftover plate of spaghetti in the fridge and be in bed by 9pm okay?”
“I know.”
“It’s been a second since you’ve been alone.”
“I’ll be okay, I’m 14 now,” she shot back and you rolled your eyes.
“Yeah for eight days,” you said and kissed her forehead as the doorbell rang and your eyes narrowed.
“Who is that?”
“Jack said he might give me a ride if he’s free but I didn’t get a text,” you said and checked your phone but the last one was all about his excitement for the date that coming morning. “Maybe he forgot.”
“Have fun with him.”
“You be quiet.”
“I made sure we have earplugs so enjoy it,” she said and you rolled your eyes, shoving her and putting in one wireless earbud, intending to listen to some music on the way since Jack never drove with the radio on.
“You won’t need them,” you called and she scoffed as you smiled and pulled open the door. “Why didn’t you--”
“Where is she?” Chris deadpanned and your eyes widened, spotting the gun in his hand, pointed right at you and he clicked it, signaling the safety was off and his weapon was loaded.
“She’s on the couch.”
“Tell her to pack.”
“It’s March 18th.”
“I don’t care, tell her to fucking pack,” he shot back but you stayed put, heat pounding when he stepped closer, resting that gun above your belly button.
“Put the gun down and I will.”
“Or?”
“Or you shoot me and tell her yourself,” you shot back, voice low as he nodded and put it in the waistband of his jeans, not bothering to click the safety off as you called Jack from behind your back, grateful for the headphones.
“Sweetheart?”
“Come on in,” you said and hoped he wouldn’t hang up.
“Thank you,” he said and shoved past you.
“Wait!” you called and he turned. “Take your shoes off, we’re civil here.”
“Sorry,” he shot back and pulled off his boots, moving upstairs as you followed.
“Sweetheart, was this a pocket dial? I mean to call about not being able to come get you, I slept in believe it or not. Also…who is that?”
“Amelia,” you said and she looked up, eyes going wide. “You remember your father right?”
“Father…” Jack muttered and you hoped he was starting to get it.
“He showed up unannounced and really pulled the trigger on my plans,” you said and eyed Chris as your daughter nodded, switching off her console and shoving it on the table. “I can’t get to work, stuck here with him and his trigger finger of a temper, right hun?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Chris asked and you swallowed hard. “Whatever. Amelia, go pack.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m taking you to Tulsa, you’ve been gone too long and I have rights, good fucking parental rights.”
“Careful Chris, you wouldn’t want to abuse that power,” you said and could hear a sharp intake of breath from Jack, glad he finally got it.
“I’m calling a buddy of mine, they’ll be there soon, keep him calm and get off the phone, you’ll be safe.”
“Are you done?”
“Perfect,” you said and moved up the last step, fake tripping and dropping the headphone out of your ear, ending the call as you went. “Sorry…I’ve always been clumsy.”
“No shit. Pack, Amelia.”
“No,” she shot back and his eyes narrowed.
“Pack…right fucking now.”
“You’re not my dad anymore,” she cried out and jumped up, running over to you as he glared and pulled out the gun. “I’m staying here.”
“I didn’t ask!” Chris yelled and began to wave the gun around as she started sobbing. “Pack your fucking bag and get in my truck.”
“NO!”
“Fine…sit there and I’ll do it,” he said and gestured to the couch as you complied despite her protests. “God…thank fuck. I didn’t want to use this. Don’t move.”
“Roger,” you said and he rolled his eyes, stalking off to her room.
“Mom?”
“It’s okay. We have help coming,” you whispered and she nodded, curling against your side as you held her close.
Chris spent the better part of twenty minutes stumbling around the townhouse and shoving things into a duffle bag he found in a closet, preparing Amelia for their journey back to Tulsa. You hoped that Jack was right, that he had someone and closed your eyes, wishing for this all to cease, for the nightmare to be over when a booming voice came from outside.
“What?”
“This is the police!” it called and he froze. “We have your home surrounded, come up with hands up or release the hostages.”
“The fuck?” he asked and turned to you, eyes narrowed.
“Do what they say.”
“You called them?”
“So what?”
“I told you not to,” he said and pulled out the gun, pressing it to your forehead but you didn’t budge, didn’t even flinch since that man had won too many times. “What? You’re not scared?”
“No. I’m not. You’re just a pathetic waste of a man with a gun in your hand who got a job because his father had one and that’s all you’ve ever been. I should have left years ago, the first time you hit me to feel good about yourself but now I see, I had nothing to fear and I’m right now one half of the strongest person in this room.”
“Who the fuck is the other half?”
“The young woman who will learn never to fear a man again,” you shot back and let her go, shoving Chris before he could blink as the guy crashed to the floor right as the door swung open.
In seconds he was surrounded by men in camo uniforms and massive guns as you sighed, spent and stood back to let them do their work, cuffing him as the guy muttered something about a pathetic bitch that you knew wasn’t you. You thought of Lilly and her story and how she returned a few days later to get her wrist checked, assuring that the guy was in custody, awaiting trial for assault and she was happy, happier than she’d ever been before. She called you strong, said it was thanks to women like you in the ED that she was safe and that the world needed more nurses with tragic backstories, a comment you laughed at. You wouldn’t call your backstory tragic, you’d call it a reminder to trust yourself and your instinct and to run when things get tough and protect the people that mean the most.
“Holy shit, mom.”
“I agree.”
You looked up to find Jack, standing by the stairs in the same camo printed ensemble with a bullet proof vest declaring him as medical and he smiled, walking over and pulling you into a very tight hug.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“I lied to you,” you admitted and his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t fall down the steps, it was him, Chris did it. He found me outside Lana’s and beat me up, threatened to take Amelia and I didn’t say anything because I thought I could do it myself, I was scared to let someone else care. But then you fixed the sink and made my favourite cookies and reminded me that there are in fact people left to trust in this world. I was going to tell you at breakfast, let you in but then he showed up.”
“Hey…I’m not mad,” he assured and moved you and Amelia out of the house so it could be looked over, just in case he tried something while he was rummaging around.
“I should have trusted you.”
“I get it, I really do.”
“I trust you now,” you said and he smiled, looking over at the cop car with Chris in the back. “You could always beat him up, they wouldn’t care.”
“Maybe I’ll spit on him before he drives away,” he said and you chuckled. “Also…I lied to you. I don’t call all my favourite nurses sweetheart, only you.”
“I figured,” you assured and a cop let you know the house was clear as Jack gave him a thumbs up but you stayed out on the lawn, enjoying the cool, night air.
“You changed everything when you walked into that ED.”
“Really?”
“You walked in with so much life, all you wanted to do was help people and it reminded me of why I chose this job, why I go to work all the time and spend so much of my life desperately trying to save people. Before you got there I debated quitting, too many lost patients and failed cases and I was sick and tired of spending all night suffering when I chose the night shift because I couldn’t sleep in the first place.” He placed a hand on each shoulder and looked you in the eyes. “But then you appeared and asked where we needed help and looked so damn excited when we saved this little kid who was coding that it was infectious. You acted like you wanted to save the world and all it took was a couple people in an ED, a couple lonely people having the worst day of your life and your one goal was to make it better…and you did.”
“You’ve been sitting on that a while.”
“Give or take ten months.”
“What a long crush,” you said and he smiled.
“So long and I’ve also been waiting to find something else to believe in besides work, something like you.”
“Something like Lucy,” you guessed and he nodded, cheeks flushing.
“She told me to find something else that could keep me alive and I assumed she meant work, saving people, keeping others alive but she didn’t…she meant something like this. You have saved me more than any of the patients you saved and more times. A light in the darkness, something to find comfort in when the shift gets too dark or the roof is too tempting.”
“Do you think she’d approve?” you asked and he shrugged.
Fate is funny, it always had been and no sooner did that question leave your mouth did a soft breeze shake the tree at the end of your short front lawn, a small fluttering of early spring leaves hitting the ground.
“I think she does.”
“Yeah, she might,” you said and he laughed, loud and quiet all at the same time, something full of love yet only for you and him to hear.
“I’m not going into work, can I stay here and we can go to breakfast in the morning.”
“Yeah,” you agreed and he grinned.
“Also…this might be too soon…too forward but…”
“I know,” you said and he eyed you.
“What was I gonna say?”
“That you love me,” you said and he scoffed.
“God no, I was gonna say the breakfast place was going to ruin breakfast forever but felt it was too soon,” he shot back and you rolled your eyes.
“Really?”
“Fuck no,” Jack said and lifted your chin up enough to pull you into a kiss, ten months of yearning shoved into every last second of it. “I just wanted to say it myself. I think I might love you, sweetheart.”
“Good, cause I think I might as well,” you said and glanced at the car with Chris just as it drove away. “He never did, I was always an accessory or a house cleaner but this…this is real love…and besides, he never liked my trinkets.”
“See…he should get checked.”
“That he should,” you agreed and he turned, wrapping an arm around you as you made your way up the steps and back inside but you stopped him right inside the door. “Amelia might call you McDreamy.”
“Like the show?”
“You know it?”
“Too many people reference it in the ER,” he said and you chuckled.
“And?”
“I’m fine with it…Only if I don’t die in a car accident.”
“Let’s hope,” you said, “or else I will have to ask for signs.”
The tree outside rustled again and you chuckled as he leaned down and gave you another kiss. “I’ll be fine. Better than fine. There’s a lot to love right now.”
“A lot indeed,” you agreed and pulled the door tight, locking it and following Jack up the stairs.
A whole lot of love, still yet to come.
Maritime Coffee
A Whole Lot of Love Later
“Excuse me?” you asked and the barista looked up, bags under her eyes and you couldn’t really blame her.
“Yes?”
“I ordered two iced lattes but I only got one,” you said and she cursed.
“Sorry…what’s the name?”
“It’s under Abbot,” you said and she nodded, running off to grab the second as you grinned since that had been one of the first times you had gotten to use it.
“Here you are, sorry,” she said and handed over the second iced honey oat latte as you smiled.
“All good,” you said and grabbed it, making your way out of the shop and over to the small bench overlooking a river. “Sorry about the wait.”
“What happened?” Jack asked and you handed over the latte as he took a sip, smiling to himself.
“She forgot one.”
“Long day?”
“Probably, I can relate.”
“We are going back next week.”
“Don’t remind me,” you said and he chuckled as you eyed the tan line peaking out from under his t-shirt, evidence of where you had been the last two weeks. “Oh…I ordered under Abbot.”
“Wow…first time?”
“First time,” you said and smiled.
“You still have to change your ID.”
“I will,” you said and leaned in close, shoulder rubbing his.
“It’s a good name huh?”
“The best,” you agreed and leaned down for a kiss before you watched a few boats go by, enjoying the warmth despite it being March.
Even though there wasn’t a cloud in sight and the air could be considered humid, you felt cool air every couple minutes and spotted a tree on the walk back to your shared home, leaves rustling in the breeze.
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vignettes of your relationship with jack abbot told through the five love languages.
word count: 13k+ ~ warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, canon level description of injuries, lack of medical knowledge lol, nurse!reader, some angst, fluff, reader has a workplace stalker, no use of y/n, fem reader, heated kissing and implied smut, every cliche jack abbot trope crammed in one fic, some emotional hurt/comfort, ever so slight sugar daddy vibes but not really, slow burnish until it’s not !
author’s note: wrote this same concept for bucky and adrian too. can’t control myself, clearly. here’s my version for jack! big shoutout to my girl @fru1t4fr0gs for reading this 87 times for me over the course of the last month xoxoxo <3
✧˖*°࿐⭒.⋆˖࣪⭑
Words of Affirmation
“Where the hell is Jack?”
A fellow nurse you had asked moments ago only shrugged in response, and Dr. Walsh barely looked up from her computer to mumble your guess is as good as mine.
If anyone were to ask why you’re curious of his whereabouts, you would spew some excuse about needing to ask him a question about the patient who got her hand stuck in a garbage disposal.
But that wouldn’t be your true reason for asking. No, Mrs. Sawyer is currently snoring after maxing out her morphine drip, so for the time being, she’s not your concern.
Jack is your concern.
He’s been quiet. Withdrawn. Solemn in the way that he gets sometimes, but tonight it’s worse than you’ve seen before. He isn’t exactly the most chipper person even on his best days, but you picked up on the minute change in his demeanor from the moment he greeted you at the beginning of the shift.
No one else seems to have noticed. If they have, they haven’t pointed it out.
But you’re hyperaware of him in a way that you have no business being. It isn’t your place to take such notice of him, and yet you do. Sometimes you think that your job would be easier if you only paid as much attention to him as you do Shen, or Robby, or Whitaker, or Santos.
Quite literally anyone else.
“He asked me to keep an eye on the patient in bay three and then wandered off,” Shen sighs. “Saw him going in the direction of the west stairwell when I was on my way back from the break room if that helps.”
“West stairwell?” You mumble under your breath. There’s only one reason he would be walking in the direction of the west stairwell that you can think of.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone up to the hospital rooftop to clear his mind, though you can’t say you’ve ever known of him to do so in the middle of the night.
Especially not without his coat when it’s 25 degrees outside.
Call it a hunch. Something in your gut telling you that he isn’t in the staff lounge, or bathroom, or an empty on-call room. The grating voice in the back of your mind is telling you he’s on that damn roof.
“Hey, I’ll be right back,” you call to Shen as you grab the black Columbia off the back of Jack’s desk chair, walking away before Shen can ask where you’re going.
Before you can think of grabbing your cardigan. Before you can think of anything, really. You haven’t the vaguest idea what you’ll say if your suspicion is confirmed when you open the stairwell door and find him on the rooftop, but you don’t let that stop you from putting one foot in front of the other until you reach the top of the stairs with his jacket clutched to your chest.
When you start to open the door, you pause with your hand on the knob. It crosses your mind that it isn’t too late for you to turn back - to walk back down the stairs and hang his coat on his chair and resume your job before he can ever know that you came up here to check on him.
That would be the smart thing to do. Then you wouldn’t risk crossing any professional boundaries or potentially blurring the lines between the level of concern you would show towards any random coworker, and one that makes your brain turn to static anytime you find yourself in his general vicinity.
But then you recall the forlorn look on his face as he typed up discharge papers at his desk when he thought no one was watching. The way he kept rubbing the bridge of his nose like he had a headache that just wouldn’t go away. How he hasn’t cracked one sarcastic comment in the last eight hours.
That pesky, persistent voice in the back of your mind tells you that he would do the same for you, though you doubt her reliability. She’s been known to tell you what you want to hear.
You listen anyway, and open the door.
He doesn’t turn around or glance over his shoulder at the sound of the creaking door - he doesn’t even flinch, and you have to wonder if he heard you at all over the low howl of the wind. You step out into the cold, mentally cursing yourself for not taking the time to grab your cardigan.
You stop when you reach the guardrail. He stands just beyond it, several feet from the ledge of the building with his hands in his scrub pockets. Light from the full moon reflects off his salt and pepper curls and even from here, you can see goosebumps on the skin of his neck.
“Beautiful moon tonight,” you muse. “Pretty sure it would look just as nice from behind the rail, though.”
His shoulders lift with a faint, amused chuckle. “I can’t give Mrs. Sawyer anymore morphine,” he says without turning to look at you.
You huff a laugh, crossing your arms over your chest to attempt to shield yourself from the cold night air as you will your teeth not to chatter. “Mrs. Sawyer is sound asleep. I’m here for you.”
He finally glances over his shoulder, an expression that you can’t quite read on his face. “How’d you know I’d be up here?”
“Just a lucky guess.” You shrug, then duck between the railing to come stand beside him. He glances down, noticing the coat in your arms at the same moment you hold it out to him. “Thought you’d be cold.”
He stares at you for a moment before accepting it, but he doesn’t put it on as you expect him to. Instead, he takes a step in your direction, stopping right in front of you, and drapes the coat around your shoulders.
Your breath catches in your throat.
“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he murmurs. He reluctantly drops his hands back down to his sides, but doesn’t step away from you.
“That does tend to happen when it’s below freezing outside, doctor.”
He looks like he’s fighting the urge to smirk, but then he looks away, back to the full moon and city lights in front of you. He’s silent for a moment and then sighs. “Today is the anniversary of losing my leg.”
You exhale, your breath clouding in front of your lips. He continues to watch the night sky before him as you watch him. His jaw tenses and he seems to try to swallow down whatever he’s feeling. “Oh, Jack,” you murmur. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
He never talks about his leg. Never calls any attention to it, if he can help it. Doesn’t let it define him. Hell, you didn’t even learn that he’s an amputee until three months after switching to the night shift, when you walked into the break room to find him adjusting his prosthetic.
This is the same man who didn’t hesitate to use one leg to donate his own blood while actively working on a critically injured patient, while his other is in a prosthetic. Of course he hasn’t mentioned the anniversary of the day he’d lost his leg before.
So for him to confess this to you now…that’s not something you take lightly.
Jack shakes his head, still not meeting your gaze. “Most years, it doesn’t even cross my mind. It’s just another day to me. But tonight, when Mrs. Sawyer wakes up, I have to tell her that she’s going to lose her hand. That it isn’t salvageable. I have to deliver the same news that I received on this same day.”
You glance down at the ground. The news doesn’t come as much of a surprise to you. You had seen Mrs. Sawyer’s mangled hand with your own two eyes when she first arrived earlier tonight. She’d dropped her wedding ring down the disposal, reached in to try to grab it without thinking, and the disposal turned on all its own. A stuck switch, electrical shortage, faulty wiring…who knows. In the blink of an eye, her life is changed by one freak accident.
You don’t know the specifics of how Jack had lost his leg, but you wonder if that’s how he had felt, too, all those years ago.
But you don’t ask. Instead, you grab his hand in yours and give it a tight squeeze. The warmth of his palm against yours offers the smallest reprieve from the cold and his hands are far softer than you would have ever expected, but you force yourself to let go when his gaze snaps back to yours.
“I’m sorry it has to be you,” you murmur. “But for whatever it’s worth…if it were me, I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”
He exhales, the cold air turning his breath to fog. His lips part, then press together again like he wants to say something but can’t find his voice. The look on his face says it all, though.
I don’t know if I can do this. Not tonight.
“I mean it,” you implore. “It’s going to suck for you to say and it’s going to suck for her to hear. But she has you, and that’s one thing going right for her tonight. There’s only so many people in this world that can relate to what she’s going through, and she gets to have one of them as her doctor.”
He’s quiet for a moment as your words settle over him. Then, the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s something. “You know, I think the world of you as a nurse…but if for some reason you ever decide to change career paths, you should consider motivational speaking.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you snort, your cheeks warming at the compliment. “But until then…” You trail off, contemplating your next words. Not wanting to come on too strong while also needing him to know that you mean what you’re about to say from the bottom of your heart.
“Until then, you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be there when she wakes up. I’ll stay with you while you tell her. If you want, that is.”
Not just tonight, you almost add. Any night. Every night. If you’ll let me.
“And as much as I appreciate this—” You glance down at his coat that still hugs you, “I’d appreciate you coming back inside with me a lot more. She’ll be waking up soon. She needs you. I need you.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh and nods. “Alright. You win. Let’s go inside before you get hypothermia and I have to fill out an incident report.”
He starts to turn towards the guardrail behind you when he pauses, placing a tentative hand on your waist. It's barely there, a featherlight kind of touch - the kind you probably wouldn’t even feel if you didn’t glance down for visual confirmation.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “For looking for me.”
You shiver. You tell yourself it’s because of the wind.
“Yeah,” you breathe. “Always.”
✧˖*°࿐⭒.⋆˖࣪⭑
Gift Giving
“What are you doing here?” Cassie muses the second she sees you walk through the emergency department’s doors - just loudly enough to draw the attention of Dana, Santos, Whitaker, and everyone else within twenty feet of the nurse’s station. “You haven’t worked on your birthday once the entire time you’ve been here.”
You glare at her, making a mental note to get her back for that the first chance you get.
She knows exactly why you chose to work tonight - and right now, you’re just relieved that he has yet to arrive for his shift and therefore isn’t here to witness this conversation.
“I didn’t know today’s your birthday,” Santos says, seemingly intrigued by the teasing expression on Cassie’s face and the annoyance on yours.
“It’s not my birthday.”
“It’s not her birthday yet,” Cassie clarifies, glancing down at her watch. “But it will be her birthday in approximately five hours.”
“Jesus,” you sigh, staring up at the screen above you to see what kind of shitshow you have willingly walked into by agreeing to cover a shift for Perlah earlier this week. “I’m a big girl. Sometimes big girls have to work on their birthdays. Perlah needed her shift covered, so here I am.”
You omit the fact that you were more than happy to do so because it meant having an excuse to spend part of your birthday with a certain attending that you knew would be on shift, as per usual on Monday nights/Tuesday mornings.
It’s not as if you had any major birthday plans to begin with. Other than getting dinner with Cassie and Samira tomorrow evening, your only plans include binge-watching and bedrotting. Picking up an extra shift tonight interferes with none of that, but…
You do feel a little silly. You wouldn’t dare ever admit it to Cassie, but she’s right. You don’t normally work on your birthday. Someone else more than likely would have been willing to cover Perlah’s shift. You don’t have to be here right now.
But you want to be. As silly - and maybe even a little bit pathetic - as it may be, you want to be.
Unfortunately for you, by the time the clock strikes midnight and it’s officially your birthday, you’ve barely even had the chance to exchange a handful of words with your entire reason for agreeing to work this shift.
Jack has been in the middle of an emergency splenectomy for the last three hours, and you? Lena assigned you the time-consuming, meticulous task of removing hundreds of bits of gravel from a severe case of road rash.
Isn’t that how everyone dreams of kicking off their birthday?
It succeeded in keeping you occupied for a few hours, at least - even if it is the type of mindless work that allows your thoughts to venture into territory they absolutely fucking shouldn’t when you’re picking tiny rocks out of a bloody crater on someone’s leg.
The feeling of Jack’s fingertips on your waist as he stood mere inches away from you on the rooftop what feels like just yesterday.
Him walking you to your car damn near every morning since even though you’re parked farther from the hospital entrance than he is, and the way he hesitates a little longer to say goodbye each time.
All of the times he has shown up to work with two coffees instead of one, and one just so happens to be your go-to order.
And, most recently, the elevator incident just yesterday - when he had oh so casually asked what your plans for your next day off are.
Friday, you had told him. Your next day off is Friday, and you don’t have any plans other than deep-cleaning your apartment and catching up on laundry. He had leaned back against the elevator wall, looking at you in that way that makes your heart behave erratically.
“That’s too bad,” Jack sighed. “Someone should give you something to actually look forward to on your day off.”
Then the elevator came to a stop, the doors slid open, and he walked out like he hadn’t just made you forget how to string two words together.
It wasn’t until hours later, on the drive home after your shift, that you were able to think of what you should have said instead of staring at him with your mouth agape like a fish out of water.
Oh, yeah? And who is someone?
Is that your professional opinion, or personal one?
Let me know when you think of something that I can actually look forward to, then.
But no. You said none of those things, and then found an excuse to stay for nearly an hour after your shift had technically ended so that you wouldn’t make an even bigger fool out of yourself when he would inevitably offer to walk you to your car.
You replay the interaction over and over again in your head the entire time you’re removing gravel from the wound, but finally, you finish.
You’re pulling the bloody nitrile gloves off of your hands when Jack appears in the doorway, still wearing a scrub cap and looking like he could use a few shots of espresso.
“Hey,” you breathe, unable to stop the smile that blooms across your face as soon as you see him. “How did the splenectomy go?”
“He’s going to be okay,” he exhales, tugging off his cap and revealing tousled salt and pepper curls. “He’s in recovery now.” Then, he glances around, as if making sure no one is paying any mind to either of you. “Do you think you could sneak away for a few?” He asks, voice low. “Meet me in the empty on-call room in about ten minutes?”
Your heart thuds in your chest. He’s smirking, but there’s something in his hazel eyes that makes you think he looks a little nervous.
“Yeah,” you nod without missing a beat. “Yeah, of course. Just let me get him some more pain meds and I’ll be right there.” You nod towards the road rash patient scrolling on his phone behind you. “Is everything okay?”
He takes a step back and winks. “Everything’s just fine, birthday girl.”
And then he turns, walking away and leaving you speechless for the second day in a row.
You haven’t even had a chance to remind him of your birthday tonight. In fact, you don’t recall mentioning your birthday to him at any point recently. A few days ago, you told him that you would be picking up Perlah’s shift tonight, but you hadn’t said a word about it being your birthday.
Did Cassie say something to him? Maybe a playful comment as she was leaving earlier about you deciding to work on your birthday? But even so, why would that result in him asking you to meet him in an empty on-call room?
By the time you give road rash guy a maximum dose of Toradol and blurt out some excuse about needing to use the bathroom as you powerwalk past the nurse’s station, your palms are drenched in sweat and your stomach feels like it’s swinging on a pendulum.
You raise your hand to the knob, hesitate for half a moment - just long enough to recall the lilt in his voice when he practically cooed birthday girl - and then, before you can chicken out, push it open.
The first thing you notice is how dim the small room is. Aside from the pale orange glow of a lamp next to the bed, the room is dark.
But not so dark that you can’t see Jack sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a cupcake in one hand and a pocket lighter in the other.
“I would sing to you, but I don’t want to torture you on your special day.” He ignites the lighter, holding the flame to the singular candle until it catches fire. “Don’t tell Dana,” he murmurs, standing up to walk the few feet to where you stand frozen in shock. “I took her spare lighter from her desk.”
You’re at a loss for words - which is quickly becoming the norm for when you’re near him. The only coherent thought you can manage to formulate is that right now, you’re so grateful that Perlah asked you to cover her shift.
You take a step closer to him now that your brain seems to be remembering to send signals to your limbs to move. “Do you always bring the nurses cupcakes on their birthdays, or is this something new you’re trying out?”
He hums a laugh. “Only my favorites. Now go on,” he encourages gently. “Make a wish.”
You hesitate, pursing your lips as you wait to see if he’s joking.
The look on his face makes it clear that he’s not.
And you’re not about to tell him no, so you close your eyes, lean in closer, and blow out the tiny flame while silently wishing for the only thing you have really wanted since you met him.
He hands you the cupcake as soon as you open your eyes. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I could persuade you to tell me what you wished for?”
You huff a breathless laugh. “I don’t think so. Gotta do everything I can to ensure that it comes true.”
“I didn’t take you to be superstitious.”
You shrug, thinking of your wish. Thinking of what he said to you in the elevator yesterday. Thinking of the way he’s looking at you right this second. “I’m usually not.”
It’s true. You’ve never considered yourself to be superstitious. But you aren’t going to take any chances with this wish.
Jack’s gaze lingers on your face for one impossibly long moment before he glances over his shoulder at the bed behind him. It’s only then that you see something that you had been too distracted to notice when you first entered the room and found him holding the cupcake and lighter.
A small gift bag with white tissue paper sticking out of the opening sits on the bed.
“Jack, you really didn’t have to get—”
“I know I didn’t have to,” he laughs lowly, cutting you off before you can finish protesting. “But I wanted to, so I did.”
The already tiny room suddenly feels infinitely smaller. The cupcake alone was thoughtful enough to have your heart performing cartwheels in your chest. Hell, the fact that he even remembered your birthday without you directly mentioning it to him is enough to make you swoon. But all of this?
You’re so fucked. Entirely and irrevocably fucked.
You don’t remember the last time you felt so nervous to open any gift. Not at any childhood birthday party or family Christmas when dozens of eyes were glued to you.
It’s just Jack. There’s no reason to be nervous, you think to yourself as you place the cupcake on the bedside table and take a seat on the edge of the mattress.
Exactly. It’s Jack. Jack, who went out of his way to …bake you a cupcake? Or stop by a bakery on his way to work and buy you a cupcake? And personally pick out a gift for you? And find you the second that he finished performing an emergency splenectomy so that he could give you the aforementioned cupcake and gift in private?
You will your hands not to tremble as you delicately pull the tissue paper from the bag. Jack takes a seat beside you, and even though you don’t meet his gaze, you can feel his stare locked onto your face as he awaits your reaction.
You peek inside the bag, and you see it. Already unboxed. A stethoscope.
But not just any stethoscope. A really fucking pricey stethoscope.
The tubing is your favorite color and your initial is engraved into the bell in cursive lettering.
“Oh,” you breathe, too stunned to remember any of the other hundreds of thousands of words in the English language.
He clears his throat and gives a tiny shrug that does little to conceal how intently he’s watching you. “I know you’ve been using the same one since you first started working here,” he murmurs as you pull the stethoscope from the bag and hold it in your hands as if it’s made of glass. “This one should last you a while.”
You trace the engraved letter with your fingertip. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper, finally looking up at him. “But this…Jack, this is too much. You shouldn’t have spent this much money.”
“It’s not.” He shakes his head, gently shushing you, soft but firm. “I wouldn’t have spent it if I didn’t have it, but I do.”
He smirks, pausing for a second as he takes the stethoscope from you. He leans in, lifting the tubing over your head and looping it around your neck. His knuckles faintly brush your collarbone as the bell settles just over your heart.
“And maybe, selfishly, I’ll enjoy seeing it around your neck knowing that I put it there.”
You exhale a breathless laugh, your skin ablaze at both his words and the timber of his voice. “I’ll wear it every day, then.” Then, feeling brave, you scoot closer to him, closing the remaining distance between you and him until the side of your leg rests against his. “How’d you know my favorite color, anyway?”
Even in the dim lamp lighting, you can see a hint of pink bloom on his cheeks. He grins, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s only the color of your water bottle, your phone case, your lunch box…”
You laugh to play off how it makes your heart swell that he noticed any of those things.
“And I might have asked Cassie,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Just to be one hundred percent sure.”
The look on Cassie’s face and her teasing comments when you’d first arrived for your shift earlier tonight suddenly pop into your head.
Of course she had known. Damn her.
At least she can keep a secret.
“It’s perfect,” you hum. “I love it. Thank you.”
“You deserve it. Especially since you’ve gotta be here on your birthday.”
You chuckle nervously, looking down at your hands in your lap to avoid his stare. “Yeah, about that…”
You hesitate before continuing, briefly considering regurgitating the same excuse you had tried to feed everyone else about only working tonight because Perlah needed her shift covered.
It isn’t a lie. But it also isn’t the truth.
The stethoscope hanging around your neck suddenly feels like it weighs fifty pounds. It serves as tangible proof that you don’t need to hold back, that he cares about you as much as you do him. That he isn’t going to make you feel silly. That, for whatever reason, he wants to be near you as much as you want to be near him.
“I was happy to say yes when Perlah asked me to cover her shift. I wanted to be here on my birthday. Well…wanted to be with you on my birthday,” you quickly amend.
Jack places his hand over yours with a heartfelt laugh. “I wish you had told me. I would have rearranged my shifts so I’d be off tonight,” he sighs. “I’ll remember that next year. But in the meantime…”
Next year. The words seem to ping pong around in your brain. You glance up at him to find he’s already looking at you.
“You said that your next day off is Friday?”
He’s so close that it’s dizzying. All you can manage is a small nod of confirmation.
“Here’s what I propose, then,” he starts, his thumb rubbing slow circles over the top of your hand, “Friday evening, you let me give you a birthday redo. Unless you’re too committed to catching up on your laundry, that is.”
The words you hadn’t said aloud when you made your wish just moments ago echo through your mind.
“I’m off on Saturday as well,” you hum. “I’m sure the world will keep spinning if I put it off for one more day.”
“Then it’s settled,” he says simply. “Friday night. Birthday redo. You and me.”
“Don’t you…always work on Friday nights?” You ask hesitantly. Every part of you wants to say yes, yes, yes, duh, of course - but in the entire time you’ve worked with Jack Abbot, you’ve never known him to be off on Friday nights.
Something about weekend shifts being more exciting than weekday shifts.
He huffs a quiet laugh that you feel the soft vibration of from where his hand rests atop yours and your thigh brushes against his.
“That’s not for you to worry about,” he murmurs. “Just get through these next few shifts and I’ll take care of the rest.”
✧˖*°࿐⭒.⋆˖࣪⭑
Acts of Service
The following seventy-two hours drag.
You would think that twelve hour shifts would make the days go by quickly, but no. Not when your first official date with Jack awaits you at the end of the week, occupying your every waking thought at work, at home, and in your fucking sleep.
It certainly doesn’t help that Jack refuses to tell you what he has planned for said date. You’ve asked, but every time you do, he just smirks and says he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise.
Anticipation alone, you could probably handle. But anticipation and curiosity? You’ve been slowly losing your mind since Tuesday night.
Now, finally, it is officially Friday. It’s just after midnight, which means you just have to finish the remainder of this shift, go home and get some sleep, and when you wake up it’ll be time to get ready for your date with—
“Your admirer is back.”
Your fingers freeze over the keyboard as you’re working on charting for a patient who came in complaining of urinary pain. You glance up to see Lena looking down at you with what can be best described as an amused grimace.
She steps aside, giving you enough space to look over your shoulder to where an annoyingly familiar face is grinning at you from the bed in bay two.
“Jesus,” you sigh, turning back to your computer screen. “This is his third visit this month. What kind of insane health insurance does he have?” You grumble, more to yourself than Lena.
“Small laceration to the left palm,” Lena explains. “Says he cut it cleaning up glass from a broken liquor bottle. Judging by the way he smells, I’d say he’s telling the truth.”
Now it’s your turn to grimace. Trey - your admirer, as Lena had referred to him - has a habit of stumbling into the ER late at night after drinking too much and sustaining minor injuries that hardly justify a trip to the emergency room.
And every time, he asks for you.
He uses the same pick-up lines every time, stares a little too much, and reeks of whatever alcohol he’s been drinking that night, but he’s always been harmless enough.
This isn’t your first day on the job. You’ve had your fair share of Treys throughout your years working in the emergency department.
“It’s small and shallow,” she continues. “Doesn’t need stitches. Should be fine with some steri-strips, but I can ask Mateo to do it if you don’t wanna deal with him.”
“Mateo has his hands full with the lady with the dog bite that came in about ten minutes ago,” you sigh resignedly, pushing your chair back to stand up. “I’ll just get it over with. If I don’t, he’ll find some other way to fuck himself up enough to come right back here.”
You glance down at your watch. 12:36 am. Just six hours and twenty-four minutes left in this shift.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Trey greets you with slurred words and a shit-eating grin as soon as he sees you approaching his bedside. “I had a feeling you’d be here tonight.”
“This is my full time job,” you quip, not caring enough to try to conceal the annoyance from your voice or facial expression. Even from several feet away, you can smell the stout stench of liquor on him. “So, what is it now, Trey? Lena said something about you getting cut when you tried to clean up glass from a broken bottle?”
“Yeah,” he laughs, drawing out the word. “Clumsy me, right? Total accident.”
“Right,” you deadpan, sliding your hands into nitrile gloves. “Well, let me take a look.”
You take his hand as firmly as you can without technically being rough and turn his palm upwards. It’s exactly as Lena had described - short, shallow, already clotting well - and definitely not worth a trip to the fucking ER. He winces anyway, milking it.
“Ow,” he drawls. “Be careful with me, sweetheart.”
You ignore that, because you’ve become a professional at ignoring Trey and other men like him. You lean in slightly, inspecting the wound for any shards of glass.
“Okay,” you say, all business. “I don’t see any glass, so that’s good. I’m just going to clean it and then close it with steri-strips.”
“Whatever you want. I like when you take charge.” His breath wafts into your face in a thick cloud of cheap vodka and something soured - judging by the mystery stain on the neckline of his t-shirt, you wouldn’t be surprised if it were the stench of his own vomit. You purse your lips in a straight line to keep from making the face you really want to make.
You ignore that comment, too. You reach for the saline, starting to irrigate the laceration. He hisses dramatically.
“Oh, come on,” you mutter. You know you aren’t being professional, but you can’t find it in you to really care. “I’ve had cat scratches worse than this.”
“You could kiss it better,” he slurs, head lolling slightly in a poor attempt at a flirtatious grin.
“Not happening.”
You keep your eyes on the cut as you blot it dry, mentally counting down the minutes until you’re away from him. Mentally counting down the minutes your shift is over and you can go home and crawl into your cozy bed and sleep for hours, and then wake up and take a hot shower and put on something cute for Jack. The only issue with that is you don’t know what you should wear, because you don’t know where you’ll be going or what you’ll be doing—
A flash of silvery curls in your peripheral vision catches your attention. You glance over your shoulder and see Jack standing at the nurse’s station, leaning forward on his elbows, his expression unreadable as he watches you work. He must’ve just come out of trauma, or maybe he’s waiting on lab results; but either way, at this moment, he’s focused on you.
Warmth blooms on your cheeks.
“So…” Trey says, his voice dropping low. “What time do you get off?”
“Not soon enough,” you grumble under your breath, applying the first steri-strip.
“Maybe I could swing by your place later,” he continues, completely ignoring your uninterested, bored tone. “Y’know…hang out. You live at—” He pauses, face scrunching together as he tries to piece the thought together, “—at Carriage Park Apartments, right? In South Hills? You’re…what is it…unit 3B?”
Your blood goes cold and your hands stop moving.
“How the fuck do you know that?” You ask sharply, yanking your hands away from his.
Trey just grins. “Lucky guess, baby.”
It’s not a lucky guess. It’s spot on down to the exact unit.
Instinctively, you take a step back, but he immediately reaches toward you, clumsy but quick, grabbing the tubing of your new stethoscope where it’s draped across your chest.
“Hey—” You jerk backwards, but he doesn’t let you, inspecting the engraved initial on the bell of the stethoscope.
“This is nice,” he slurs. “You always wear this one? Or is it new? I saw on your friend Cassie’s Facebook page that it was your birthday the other day. Maybe it was a gift—”
“Let go,” you snap, trying to keep your voice even. You don’t want to draw the attention of any other patients, but you can literally feel your pulse spiking, hot bile churning in your gut—
But Trey doesn’t let go. His grip only tightens, and at that exact moment, Jack moves.
One second he’s watching like a hawk from the nurse’s station, and the next, he’s at your side, stepping in so quickly and decisively that you barely have time to register what’s happening. His hand clamps around Trey’s wrist - not hard enough to seriously injure him, but with enough strength that Trey’s face contorts in discomfort and he attempts to pull away.
“I suggest you take your hand off of her,” Jack’s voice is low but lethal.
Trey’s glassy eyes blink rapidly up at Jack. “Hey - hey, man,” he stammers. “I wasn’t - I wasn’t doing anything. Just talking to her and - and looking at her—”
“She told you to let go.”
You stand frozen as the interaction unfolds in front of you, your heart feeling as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest and onto the hospital floor.
“I was just joking around.” He says the words so quickly that they all run together. “You don’t gotta - hey, seriously, it’s fine. I’ll go—”
“Dr. Abbot, we’ll handle it from here.”
You vaguely register a security guard’s voice cut through the tension. Two officers appear at the entrance to the bay. You aren’t sure who even called them - knowing Lena, she probably had them on stand by when Trey stumbled in here drunk as a skunk and smelling like one, too.
Jack reluctantly releases Trey’s wrist. The moment he does, his hand finds your shoulder and he begins to guide you backwards, away from the bed and out of Trey’s reach.
“What’s going on here?” One of the guards - a new guy who you’ve never spoken to before - asks no one in particular.
Trey slumps back against the pillows, suddenly appearing very small. “I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” he mutters, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.
The guards look to you and Jack for a legitimate explanation, which Jack quickly provides. “He grabbed her. She told him to let go, and he didn’t.”
The guard nods. “We’ll take care of it.”
Jack doesn’t wait for the rest. He already has his hand at the small of your back, steering you away from the bay and down a hallway until he reaches an empty consult room.
You don’t even realize just how hard your heart is still pounding until the door clicks shut.
Jack takes a step towards you, but doesn’t crowd you. He raises his hands like he’s going to touch you but stops himself, hands flexing awkwardly in front of him before dropping them back down to his sides.
“Are you okay?” He asks softly, his eyes searching for any obvious signs of physical or emotional distress.
You can’t think clearly enough to answer him right away. Instead, you turn away from him and walk the short distance to the loveseat in the corner of the small room. You take a deep breath in and then exhale, wringing your hands together as you normally do when you’re particularly anxious.
“He won’t be back here,” Jack assures you, watching you carefully from where he stands a few feet away. “Not if I have any say in it. He can risk bleeding out while driving to UPMC Mercy or Presbyterian for all I care—”
“He knows where I live,” you say quietly - barely a whisper, but it shuts him up.
“What?” He asks, though his tone of voice indicates he heard you perfectly fine. “He knows where you live? You’re sure?”
You nod, a fresh wave of nausea washing over you as you recall the satisfied smirk on his face when Trey witnessed your reaction to learning he knows your address.
“Positive.” You grimace. “I don’t know if he has followed me home from work before or what, but he knows where I live. Exact apartment number and all.”
Jack doesn’t say anything for a moment. He rakes a hand down his face, perhaps as stunned by this as you initially were. Your thoughts are reeling, thinking of all of the safety measures you’re going to need to take. You already have a doorbell camera, but you should set up some security cameras inside your apartment, too. An extra front door lock and additional window locks, for sure. A restraining order certainly isn’t a bad idea. There may be a way to terminate your lease early if stalking and harassment are involved - you aren’t really sure. You’ve never fucking been stalked before.
“Okay,” he sighs, sitting down next to you and interrupting your trainwreck of thoughts. “You can’t go back there. Not alone, anyway. After work, you can come back to my place. You can stay as long as you need. As long as you want. We’ll both go to your apartment and get some of your things—”
“Jack, don’t be ridiculous,” you say with a humorless laugh, turning to face him. There’s no hint of uncertainty on his face. You know he means every word he says, but you can’t just take up temporary residence in his home - as tempting as that may sound to you, the last thing you want is to be such an inconvenience before you’ve even gone on one date with the man.
“I can’t - won’t ask that of you. I can get a hotel room for the time being, until I figure out the terms of my lease. Hell, I could stay in an on-call room here for a few nights and I’d be perfectly safe. I know Whitaker did that at one point—”
Jack laughs. Not a humorless, half-hearted chuckle, but full, deep belly laugh. “Honey, you don’t know me if you think I’m going to have you sleeping on a cot in an on-call room or at a hotel where that fucker could follow you just as easily as your apartment.”
He shifts slightly on the loveseat, angling his body toward you. “You staying with me isn’t ridiculous,” he says, quieter. No longer laughing, but his expression is still soft. “It’s safe. And you’re not asking anything of me. I’m offering.”
You drop your gaze down to your hands in your lap. “I’d just…feel bad. I don’t want to intrude. We haven’t even gone on one date yet.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not the point. I don’t care if we’ve been on zero dates or a hundred. A drunk asshole grabbing you and telling you he knows where you live isn’t something that you sleep off in an on-call room.”
You swallow hard. “I don’t want to be a burden,” you murmur.
Don’t want to be a burden, but don’t want to stay anywhere else, either.
You can’t deny it, even to yourself. The second that Jack intervened, you felt safe. Sitting here beside him right now, you’re surprisingly calm given what just transpired. And the thought of going home with him, rather than sleeping in an on-call room or the first hotel you can find? Rather than going back to your apartment where Trey could be waiting for you after your shift? The thought of that brings you more comfort than you’re willing to admit.
His eyebrows lift in disbelief. “A burden?” He leans forward, forearms resting on his knees and his face just inches from yours. “Sweetheart, making sure that you’re safe doesn’t burden me. It matters to me.”
Sweetheart. When Trey had called you the petname, it made your skin crawl. But hearing it from Jack…it’s a term of endearment. Instead of making your skin crawl, it makes your stomach flutter with an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies.
It’s that very feeling that gives you the gentle push you need to say yes.
✧˖*°࿐⭒.⋆˖࣪⭑
Jack and Lena each ask upwards of a dozen times if you’re sure that you’re alright to work the remainder of your shift.
Lena tries to insist that you take an extra long break and eat something. Jack offers to leave work long enough to drive you back to his place so that you can decompress in peace, but you refuse. You don’t have an appetite, and you don’t really want to be alone. You’re sure you would be completely safe at Jack’s, but you don’t want to be left alone with your thoughts. You just want to finish out the last few hours of your shift.
The best thing for you right now is to keep yourself busy, so that’s what you do. You take five minutes to freshen up in the employee bathroom, make yourself a coffee, and get back to it.
That is until the police show up and you, Jack, Lena, and the security guards all have to give statements as to what happened with Trey. You explain his multiple ER visits over the last month alone, how he always asks for you by name, and everything he said and did tonight. They take your statement, and ask if you want to press charges for stalking and harassment - to which you say yes, even though part of you is terrified of how Trey could react once he learns of this. You know it’s the right thing to do.
By the time it’s all said and done and seven o’clock rolls around, it feels like one of the longest shifts of your entire career and you’re beyond relieved for it to be over. So relieved, in fact, that you don’t even feel nervous about going to Jack’s condo until you’re literally walking through his front door.
You hadn’t let yourself dwell on it too much as he drove you to your apartment to collect some of your things. You swore that you were fine to drive your own vehicle and let him follow you, but he had insisted on driving you himself, and you were too tired to put up much of a fight.
As quickly as possible, you threw essentials into a duffel bag while Jack waited patiently in your living room. Hair care products, body wash, toothbrush and toothpaste, a few changes of clothes. Skincare and makeup essentials, perfume, and something cute to wear tonight - you do still have a date this evening, after all.
You were in and out in less than ten minutes.
Jack carries your bag up to his condo for you.
To no surprise, it’s significantly nicer than your apartment. Although you make decent money as an emergency department nightshift nurse, Pittsburgh rent prices are astronomical and you live alone, so you took the first apartment you could find that wasn’t going to completely break the bank every month.
You don’t even want to think about how much this place costs.
It’s damn near exactly how you had envisioned his home to be. There’s very little decor, but there’s still touches of him throughout the space. The large windows have thick blackout curtains - a telltale sign that someone who works at night and sleeps during the day lives here. The espresso machine that he’d been bragging about just last week sits on his kitchen counter. His coffee table is littered with random medical journals and books. It’s the perfect balance of clean and simple yet lived-in and domestic.
“Make yourself at home,” Jack murmurs, placing your duffel bag on the large sectional couch that you’re hovering beside awkwardly. Your heart skips a beat at the word home.
That’s just a thing people say. Make yourself at home - make yourself comfortable. He’s not being literal.
“Tell me what you need,” he says, voice low and warm. “Food? Sleep? A shower? I can make you coffee, breakfast, whatever you want. I don’t normally go to sleep until a few hours after I get home.”
Your stomach all but vibrates at the offer of food. You didn’t eat anything your entire shift. After Trey happened, the thought of eating was entirely unappealing. But now that some time has passed, and you’re away from the hospital, the hunger pains in your belly are becoming hard to ignore.
“At the risk of sounding needy…” You start with a breathy laugh. “All three of those things sound incredible right now.”
Shower, food, sleep. Preferably in that order.
“I’ll make us something to eat while you take a shower,” Jack hums, as if reading your mind. Your stomach does that erupts into hundreds of butterflies thing again that cannot be blamed solely on hunger. He takes a step towards you, placing a light, tentative hand on your waist. “How does that sound?”
It’s a simple question but it makes you lightheaded. You aren’t used to this - having someone take care of you in such mundane ways. Driving you around. Carrying your bag for you. Making you food. Getting you thoughtful, personalized gifts.
Part of you wonders if you’re even deserving of it. Any of it. Especially coming from him. But Jack’s a smart man. Rational. Self-assured. The kind of man who knows what he wants and doesn’t settle for less than that. And though you may not fully understand why…you’re the person standing in front of him with his hand on your waist right now.
You give a small nod. “That sounds good. Thank you.” You smile up at him. Then, remembering you don’t actually know your way around this place, you ask, “Where’s the guest room? I’ll take my bag in there.”
He sucks in air through his teeth. “About that…” He trails off with a shy laugh. “My guest room is currently functioning as a storage unit. You’ll be staying in my room. I’ll take the couch.”
“What?” You exclaim, eyes going wide. “No way. I’m not kicking you out of your bed in your own home, Jack.” You look at the giant sectional beside you. “There’s more than enough room for me on the couch. Get me a pillow and a blanket and I’ll be fine.”
“No way,” he snorts. Then, his other hand finds your waist, too. His chest is just inches from yours and you catch a whiff of something musky. You can’t argue back because you’re too busy remembering how to breathe. “Not happening. I end up falling asleep on the couch more than half the time, anyway. You aren’t kicking me out of anywhere.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” he interjects, gentle but firm enough to make you close your mouth. “You’re my guest. You’re sleeping in my bed. That’s final.”
Maybe it’s his tone of voice, or maybe it’s the look on his face - his words hit you straight in your core. You’re grateful that he can’t feel your skin through the material of your scrubs, because as soon as the words you’re and sleeping and in my bed left his lips, goosebumps bloomed across your flesh.
You dig your teeth into your bottom lip in an attempt to keep your composure. “You need to be careful,” you exhale, grabbing your duffel bag off of the couch. “You’re going to spoil me rotten.”
He smirks, turning to take you to where you’ll be sleeping. “Would that really be such a bad thing?”
✧˖*°࿐⭒.⋆˖࣪⭑
Physical Touch
As if you needed anything else to add to the ever growing list of reasons that you believe Jack Abbot might be too good to be true, he also makes a killer breakfast sandwich.
You’re not ashamed to admit that you took your sweet time in his walk-in, fancy-pants shower, scrubbing every microscopic trace of hospital off of your skin and letting hot water soothe the aching muscles of your back before rejoining Jack in the kitchen.
When you do, bare-faced and donning the first clean pair of sweatpants and t-shirt you could find during your brief trip to your apartment, Jack is already plating up breakfast for you.
You aren’t even really sure what you had been expecting - cereal, maybe? A protein shake? Instant oatmeal? You were so hungry that you hadn’t been very worried about what, but you were still pleasantly surprised when you entered the kitchen to see what he had managed to put together while you were in the shower.
Bacon, fried egg, Gouda cheese, and avocado slices all piled high on a bagel with hash browns on the side.
He watches in anticipation as you take your first bite. Your eyes flutter shut and he lets out a soft laugh.
“Good?” He slides a cup of coffee across the kitchen island to you (decaf, he said, because he knows you’ll be going to sleep soon).
“That’s an understatement,” you mumble around a mouthful of bagel. “Divine.”
You can’t help but think he looks pleased with himself.
He stands directly across from you, eating his own breakfast that mirrors yours. You’re so hungry, and it’s so delicious, that you barely say a word until you take the very last bite. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It feels natural, easy. Like you’ve sat on this very barstool eating breakfast with him after long shifts dozens of times before.
When you’re both finished, you offer to clean up - which earns you an incredulous look, like he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.
“It’s just a few dishes,” Jack snorts, walking around to where you’re sitting. “I think I can handle it.” He leans with his back against the counter, standing right beside you. “You should go lay down. Get some rest. We’ve got plans tonight, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” you laugh. “Although, I still don’t know what said plans are…” You trail off, looking up at him with raised brows and pursed lips, a silent plea for him to finally tell you what tonight’s agenda is.
He laughs, the lines around his eyes crinkling in the way that always makes you feel fuzzy inside.
“And you’ve been so patient.” He shakes his head and grins down at you. “You’ve made it this far. Why would I ruin the surprise now?”
You suppose he’s right. If you’ve made it all week without knowing, you can wait another eight…ten…twelve hours.
Jack walks you to his bedroom door even though you already know the way. He pauses just at the doorway, one hand braced lightly against the frame like he’s debating whether to stay or go. You hesitate too, your fingers grazing the doorknob but not yet opening it.
“Get some rest,” he murmurs. “And if you need anything - anything at all - I’ll be right in the living room. Just say the word.”
For a split-second, you swear he’s leaning in. Just enough to make your heart stutter and breath catch in your throat at the thought of his lips landing on your temple, your cheek, your mouth.
But then the moment passes. He pulls back instead, offering a gentle, almost apologetic smile. “Sleep well,” he whispers.
All you can manage is a small nod before you open the door and slip inside, closing the door behind you. You hold your breath until you hear his footsteps begin to retreat down the hallway. When the soft thuds fade to silence, you release a shaky exhale.
How the hell are you supposed to fall asleep after that?
The answer to that is you don’t.
Though Jack’s bed is plenty comfortable, you toss and turn for well over half an hour and still find yourself wide awake. You’ve been awake for sixteen plus hours at this point. Those sixteen hours have included working a twelve hour shift, learning that you have a stalker and getting harassed at your place of work, and answering dozens of questions from the police - you should have crashed the second your body hit the soft cotton sheets.
But you find that fucking impossible when his pillow smells so much like him.
You can’t stop yourself from inhaling the light, clean scent of whatever detergent he uses mixed with a faint essence of him - something earthy and masculine like aftershave or remnants of his cologne.
It makes the pitch black room feel like it’s spinning around you, the last words he’d said to you echo in your mind.
If you need anything at all, I’ll be right in the living room. Just say the word.
You can admit that it’s more of a want than a need, but he did say anything.
Before you can overthink what you’re about to do, before you can chicken out, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand. Then, putting one foot in front of the other, you ease down the hallway as quietly as you can in case he’s already asleep.
He’s not.
Jack’s profile is illuminated by the glow of the television in the otherwise dark room. He’s changed out of his scrubs, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that mirrors your own attire. His prosthetic is now detached, resting on the floor beside the couch.
“Hey.” He sits up a bit straighter, curiosity and concern etched across his features and in his voice when he notices you stop near the edge of the hallway. “Is everything okay?”
You just nod, and give him a small smile. You can’t bring yourself to speak for fear that you won’t recognize your own voice. You take a few slow steps towards the couch and he glances down to where you twist your hands nervously in front of you. His brows furrow in worry, though his hazel eyes can’t conceal his curiosity.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, patting the empty space right next to him.
But instead of sitting beside him, you stop directly in front of where he’s lounging. His eyes trail upwards, confusion merging into something akin to amusement when you lift one knee onto the couch, and then the other, hovering just over his lap. Your palms land lightly on his shoulders for balance, not yet putting all of your weight against his thighs.
He goes completely still the moment you settle over him, as if the slightest movement from him might send you running back down the hallway. His hands hover at your hips but don’t quite touch. You pause for a heartbeat, giving him the opportunity to stop you if he wants.
But he doesn’t. His normally hazel hues stare up at you, pupils blown so wide that his orbs appear onyx.
That’s all the confirmation you need to close the distance between you.
You lean forward slowly, your nose brushing against his. Your lips ghost over his in the barest tease of a touch that makes wildfire bloom across your neck and down your spine. The anticipation feels like electricity, your pulse thundering in your ears. You can feel his breath fan across your lips, shaky and uneven.
The initial press of your lips against his is feather soft, though his response is anything but. Something between a sigh and groan escapes the back of his throat, kissing you back with a tenderness that makes you melt into him. His hands finally settle against your waist, fingertips gripping the fabric of your t-shirt. Your hands trail from the broad planes of his shoulders to the nape of his neck, tips of your fingers intertwining in the short tufts of silvery curls.
His lips collide with yours in slow yet fervent kisses that could easily get you drunk off him. The faint stubble along his jaw tickles your skin in a way that makes you feel delirious. You think that you would be content to sit here and kiss him all day long, but you also don’t want to seem too eager.
Even if you are.
When you pull back, your lips tingle. Jack follows the movement for a fraction of a second, as if he can’t stop himself from trying to kiss you more. Your forehead rests against his and you exhale a shaky laugh.
“I tried to sleep,” you breathe, voice unsteady. “I really did. But your pillow smells like you and it was driving me fucking crazy.”
Even with only the light pouring from the television, you can tell that he’s blushing. His hands run up and down your sides. “I take it that’s a good thing,” he laughs, voice low.
“Mm-hmm,” you hum. “Indeed. You smell even better up close, though.” You close the distance between you once more. This time it’s the ghost of a kiss, your lips faintly brushing over his just enough to tease.
He peppers light kisses along your jawline. “Is that right?” The words are murmured against the skin of your throat.
Your eyes flutter shut and his name tumbles from your lips.
“Yeah, honey?”
You cup his face in your hands and pull back to look down at him. “Come to bed with me.” It’s intended to be a question, a request - but it comes out more of a breathless command.
His fingertips freeze along your spine. He looks up at you, hesitant. “You sure that’s what you want?”
You nod, the pad of your thumb brushing along his cheekbone. Another small peck to the tip of his nose this time. “I’m sure.”
He seems to search your face for signs of uncertainty. When he doesn’t find any, he exhales a laugh through his nose. “As much as I wish I could sweep you into my arms and carry you down the hallway…” He trails off, wiggling his leg beneath you. “I’m the one who needs a little assistance getting there.”
You follow his gaze to where his prosthetic sits a few feet away. It’s then that you notice a pair of crutches propped against the recliner, undoubtedly for getting around his place when he doesn’t feel like wearing the prosthetic. You ease off of his lap, standing up to retrieve the crutches for him. He pushes himself off the couch as you hand them off to him.
Once he’s balanced, he nods towards the hallway with a small smirk. “Lead the way.”
You do, walking slow enough that he can keep pace with you. Your heart thuds against your ribcage with each step you take, but it’s due to excitement rather than nerves.
Excitement at the prospect of simply listening to his heartbeat and inhaling the scent of his t-shirt as you both drift off to sleep.
Twelve hours ago, you never would have predicted that this would be happening right now. That you’d be in Jack’s condo. That you would shower in his bathroom while he makes you breakfast. That you would sit on his lap and kiss him and crawl into bed together.
It feels surreal. Like you’re dreaming and fully expect to wake up in your own bed at any moment.
When you reach the edge of the bed, you pull the covers back and lie down, scooting towards the middle of the large mattress so there’s plenty of space for Jack to crawl in next to you. He leans the crutches so that they’re within reach of the bed and then lowers himself onto the mattress with practiced ease.
He lies flat on his back, the mattress dipping beneath him. His arm extends outwards in a wordless gesture that opens the space closest to him for you.
“C’mere,” he coaxes, and just like when he’d said that to you minutes ago in the living room, you do. You slip into the space under his arm, tucking yourself into the solid warmth that is his chest. Your cheek settles just over his heart and his arms curl around you, cocooning you against him.
It’s too easy to melt into the embrace that is so new yet already feels so familiar.
You’re both asleep within minutes.
✧˖*°࿐⭒.⋆˖࣪⭑
Quality Time
“All I’m saying is that it would be a lot easier for me to pick an outfit if I know where we’re going.”
Jack’s chest vibrates with laughter against your cheek.
You aren’t sure what time it is. All you know is that you woke up in the exact same spot that you had fallen asleep - in his arms. That, and you feel incredibly well rested.
“How many outfits did you bring with you?” He asks, lips pressed against your temple and voice still raspy with sleep. It’s a sound you could very quickly get used to hearing when you wake up, you think.
“Three.” You lift your shoulder in a small shrug. “Option one is casual. Two is semi-formal. And three is a little bit fancier than two.”
You did the best you could on such short notice and with no knowledge of what tonight’s plans entail.
He hums in contemplation, running a hand up and down the expanse of your arm. “Do you trust me?”
You shift enough to look up at him. He’s smirking down at you. “Of course I trust you.” You roll your eyes. It’s true. You do. Though you can’t say you aren’t suspicious of where he’s going with this.
“How about you show me options two and three and I’ll tell you which I think is the better choice? That way you don’t have to guess what you should wear and you still get to be surprised?”
So that’s exactly what you do.
An hour later, you’re wearing option number two in the passenger seat of his truck. Semi-formal. On the nicer side, but nothing crazy fancy - though you would think it’s the nicest thing Jack’s ever seen by how he’s complimented you no less than a dozen times since you first walked out of the bedroom wearing it.
Just before sunset, he pulls into the parking lot of a cute Italian bistro that you’ve never heard of in a quiet part of town. Osteria del Cuore reads the sign - Tavern of the Heart.
“Ever been here before?” Jack asks, curious lilt to his tone.
“No.” You shake your head. “I haven’t. Have you?” You glance over to him in the driver’s seat to find him already smirking at you with a twinkle in his eyes.
“I have not. No one has, actually.”
You give him a confused look, but before you can question him, he’s opening his truck door and hopping out to walk to the passenger side. Ever the gentleman, he opens your door for you and offers you his hand.
“And that’s because we are the first customers,” he continues when you place your hand in his as you step down.
“First?”
“That’s right. They don’t officially open until tomorrow night, but I called in a small favor.” He opens the front door for you and waits for you to step inside.
Your eyes scan the room. There’s maybe a dozen or so tables in total. Sconces line the brick walls and strings of fairy lights twine around ceiling beams, illuminating the space in a muted amber glow. Each table is adorned with tiny flower bouquets and flickering candles inside glass holders. Bundles of dried herbs hang above an open kitchen window - rosemary, bay, thyme - filling the air with a faint earthy scent in addition to the aroma of fresh baked bread.
It’s warm. Cozy. Homey. Perfect for a first date - but all you can think about is the fact that Jack was not kidding when he said that you’re the first customers. There’s no other patrons to be seen anywhere.
A young woman, presumably the hostess, appears from around the small bar and welcomes you both.
“Dr. Abbot.” She smiles, greeting him by name. “Mr. Moretti is so glad you two could join us tonight. Come with me and I’ll show you to your table.”
Jack motions as if to say after you. You follow her, expecting her to take you to one of the smaller booths for two, but she walks right past them. And then right past all of the tables for larger parties, as well. You glance at Jack in curiosity, but he only places a hand on your lower back in response, giving nothing away.
She leads you both past the bar and down a small hallway, then opens an unmarked door without looking back. You aren’t sure if Jack even knows where she’s taking you, but he makes no objections, so you keep quiet, following her up a short stairwell.
You aren’t entirely sure what you’re expecting - another dining room, maybe. But what you aren’t expecting is the breeze of cool evening air when she opens a door at the top of the stairs.
If you thought the inside was lovely, then the rooftop is something straight out of a fairytale.
It feels like stepping into a secret garden above the city. Like inside, string lights zigzag overhead and candles twinkle on every flat surface. There’s an abundance of lush planters and flowering vines, their leaves rustling in the light breeze. Several tall, outdoor style heaters line the perimeter of the tables, radiating enough warmth to ward off the chilly night air.
In the center of it all, there’s only one table set tonight.
One round, intimate table draped in ivory linen and graced with a small glowing lantern, a mason jar of wildflowers, and two empty wine glasses.
“This is what you consider to be a small favor?” You laugh breathily as he pulls your chair out for you. The hostess places menus on the table before wordlessly departing, leaving the two of you alone momentarily. “A private rooftop dinner at a restaurant that isn’t technically open yet?”
Jack takes his own seat with a small shrug, though there’s a pleased look on his face at the awestruck expression on yours. “I treated the owner’s wife a few months ago. She’d been experiencing on and off again leg pain that her primary care doctor had dismissed as a strained muscle. They came into the ER one night, begging to be taken seriously because she knew something was wrong. Long story short, she wasn’t being dramatic. An ultrasound showed the beginning of a DVT. We got her treated before it turned into anything life threatening.”
Mrs. Moretti - you vaguely recall overhearing Jack tell Robby about the case.
“Her husband was so grateful.” Jack shakes his head with a soft smile. “He told me all about this restaurant that they were in the process of opening - insisted that he owes me a favor and gave me his business card. He made me promise to come by for a free meal as soon as they opened. Which isn’t until tomorrow, but…” He trails off, taking in the scenery around you.
“I suppose saving people’s lives does have its perks sometimes,” you tease, nudging his calf with your foot beneath the table.
A faint dusting of pink appears along his cheekbones. “I wasn’t planning on ever cashing in on that favor, but I drove by here a few days ago and saw the grand opening sign…” Another small shrug, and you can’t help but giggle at how bashful he seems right now. “I’m going to insist on paying for the food, of course. Them letting us have the place to ourselves the day before opening is already more than enough.”
Your entire body is buzzing at the revelation. At all of it - at the thought he put into planning this, at the ambiance, at the romance of it all.
It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. And so much fucking better than spending your Friday night alone doing your laundry.
“I don’t even know what to say,” you breathe, reaching across the table to take his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “No one has ever done anything like this for me.”
Not just this, you think. Everything he’s done for you, big and small. The engraved stethoscope he got you for your birthday, and the coffees that he always brings to work for you without asking. Defending you from a creepy jackass and then inviting you into his home without a second thought. Cooking you breakfast, caring for you, making you feel more safe and loved than anyone else has ever made you feel.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “I just thought it might be nice to be on a rooftop together again. Only under much happier circumstances this time.”
The memory replays in your mind instantaneously - the hospital rooftop, much different than the one you’re on right now. It wasn’t all that long ago, in the grand scheme of things, even if it does feel like a lifetime ago.
Like that night on the hospital rooftop, the moon above you now is also bright and full. And like that night, there’s no one else you’d rather be with.
But now, when Jack smiles, it reaches his eyes. And now, as you hold his hand in yours, it isn’t to console him because he’s having a hard night. It’s simply because you can - simply because you want to hold his hand.
Yes, much happier circumstances indeed.
✧˖*°࿐⭒.⋆˖࣪⭑
Epilogue {….a little more physical touch}
You aren’t quite sure how one night at Jack’s condo turns into two, and then three, then four…but you aren’t complaining.
He certainly doesn’t seem to mind, either.
You’d mentioned going back to your place multiple times. The last thing you want to do is overstay your welcome so early in your relationship, but Jack isn’t having any of that. He has assured you time and time again that the only reason for you to go back to your apartment is to get more of your belongings.
You put very little energy into objecting. You want to be here with him every bit as much as he seems to want you here.
Despite the fact that you’ve been sleeping in his bed for nearly a week, it feels as if you’ve barely seen each other the last few days. Your work schedules normally match up pretty nicely, but due to some people being out on vacation, or sick, or on maternity leave, your shifts have been all over the place this week.
So you’re beyond happy to hear him enter his condo not even ten minutes after your morning alarm wakes you up, knowing that both of you are now off work until tomorrow night.
You’re still laying in bed when he opens the door. Light pours in from the hallway, just enough to illuminate his silhouette.
“Good morning,” you breathe, voice still tinted with sleep. He walks to the edge of the bed and sits down beside where you lay.
“Good morning,” he whispers, leaning over to give you a tender kiss, the faint essence of coffee on his lips. “Did I wake you up?”
“No.” You shake your head, raising a hand to the back of his neck where you lace your fingers through his short curls. “I set an alarm so that I’d be awake when you got home. I missed you.”
You pull him down to you by his neck until his mouth is on yours once more. This kiss isn’t quite as tender as the first - you open to him right away, his tongue slipping between your lips. He braces one hand against the headboard, and the other comes to cup the side of your face, deepening the kiss. You can’t help but release a small moan into his mouth, your thighs clenching together beneath the covers.
He pulls away, as if reading your mind, planting a small kiss to the corner of your mouth with a shaky exhale. “I should probably shower off first, honey.”
You shake your head again like a petulant child being told no. “That can wait.”
Jack doesn’t need any further convincing.
He yanks the comforter away from your body, revealing you to be in only your underwear and an oversized t-shirt. You pull him back to you, crushing your lips to his. His hands grab at your waist, bunching the fabric of your t-shirt around your stomach. He smells sterile, just like the hospital he’s been at all night, but beneath that there’s the familiar scent of his body wash that you’ve quickly become obsessed with.
“Lay down,” you command gently.
He has worked twelve hours while you have been asleep in his bed, after all. You figure taking care of him is the least you can do if you’re going to jump his bones the second he walks through the door.
He looks like he’s about to object, his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties, but you pat the empty space on the mattress beside you and he gives in. Maybe it’s the pleading, eager look on your face or maybe it’s just exhaustion creeping into his bones, but he does as you ask without putting up a fight.
That alone makes you melt. You know that Jack isn’t used to being cared for - in any sense of the word. He’s been alone for a long time. Self-reliant and solitary.
But so have you. And just as it comes naturally to let Jack spoil you, he seems content to let you do the same for him.
He’ll more than make it up to you soon enough, you have no doubt.
He trades places with you, sinking down against the mattress and pillow with a soft exhale. You sit up onto your knees, smoothing a hand down his chest until you reach the hem of his scrub top.
“Can I..?” You ask, tugging lightly at the fabric.
He nods, sitting up slightly and lifting his arms so that you can maneuver both his scrub top and undershirt off in one go. You glance down, noting that he has yet to shed his shoes.
You crawl to the foot of the bed, making quick work of yanking off one, and then the other - leaving one foot and the base of his prosthetic exposed. He shimmies his pants down his thighs, letting you pull them the rest of the way off, tossing them to join his shoes somewhere on the floor.
Your gaze settles where his prosthetic meets flesh. You hesitate, not wanting to assume, not wanting to do something wrong or make him uncomfortable in any way. He notices your hesitation right away.
“I can walk you through it,” he says softly, thumb brushing your cheek. “If you’d like to learn how to remove it.”
The offer hits you square in the chest. It may seem small, but he isn’t just offering to teach you something - he’s showing you that he trusts you enough to let you into a part of his life that most people never see. That he trusts you enough to be vulnerable with you. That you mean enough to him that helping him with something like this could easily become a regular occurrence, so it only makes sense for you to learn how to do it.
You realize, right then and there, that you’re in love with him. And, wholeheartedly, you believe that he’s in love with you, too.
You smile, blinking away happy tears that threaten to spill over.
“Yeah,” you nod. “I’d like that.”
✧˖*°࿐⭒.⋆˖࣪⭑
thank you so much for reading! i love you forever if you comment/reblog <3
Ever Let Her Go --- Dr. Frank Langdon X Fem!Reader
MASTERLIST
Pairing: Dr. Frank Langdon X Wife!Reader(you also happen to be Jack Abbot's sister)
Words: 9050
Summary: Dr. Frank Langdon talks about his wife like she's the air he needs to breathe and she might be the one person who stuck by him through all of rehab. She stayed, didn't look at him like he was broken and cared to stick around, to linger and see if he could get better and he did. But his work also has no idea, they've never met her, don't even know he's married and rumours have been circulating that he's divorced for years. But a few hours into the first shift back Langdon stumbles onto a trauma case that changes everything, makes him confront the people he hurt the most and reveal a closely guarded secret.
Warnings: Classic hospital terms and procedures, mentions of death and the death of a beloved character(spoiler for season 2), mentions of a shooting and threatened gun violence, you as the reader get shot and end up in the ER, mentions of suicidal thoughts and threats.
Tags: Frank Langdon, you are his wife and the ER doesn't know, Frank never married Abby, no kids, the Pitt, angst, fluff, reader is not a doctor but a high school teacher, Robby appears, Abbot appears, you are Jack's younger sister and have a brother named Jason as well, VERY Langdon centric(basically all but about 2k of this is his 3rd person POV), no use of Y/N.
AN: Frank again!! This came to me because I had the idea of what if I made that first shift back even worse...whoops...I promise the next will be so fluffy it's not even funny...but for now...get some tissues ready. Also Abbot as the readers brother is my new favourite thing. Dividers by @cafekitsune
Ever Let Her Go
"That I'm broke, but I'm real rich in my head. That I broke a bone that never healed in my hand. So, when I hold her close, I might loosen my grip. But I won't ever let her go. I won't ever let her go."
July 4th
12:45pm
Dr. Frank Langdon had already had probably the worst shift of his life, next to the one where his career practically ended and he had to assume that it wasn’t about to get any better. He was sitting in the doctors lounge, glaring at the table and looking through his phone to make himself feel better. Sure the job wasn’t going well but he had a lot to look forward to and let out a sigh as his eyes welled up a bit at a message you sent long after he had got back to the Pitt.
It was your day off, your summer off from teaching, and you were currently showing around your older brother Jason who had driven there from North Carolina to hang out for the holiday. Langdon was going to join you but when he got offered his day back a few weeks early he took it, big mistake, Robby was pissed for no reason other than he didn’t get to leave on his motorcycle yet, most of the doctors still wouldn’t talk to him and no matter where he went he felt like he was walking on eggshells. But at least he had you, his favourite person and the woman who had stuck by his side despite it all.
You were shocked when he admitted to what he had done, that his back injury was a bit worse than he had originally let on and the pill stealing was a stupid choice but you didn’t denounce him like a lot of people did. Didn’t call him a waste of space or leave like everyone expected, you stayed, kept him safe from scrutiny and made sure he was okay when it came to his recovery.
You’d known him close to six years, married for four, so it wasn’t like you’d just up and leave for something as simple as a mistake like that anyways, no matter the consequences. It really lifted Langdon’s spirits and he resisted the urge to phone you, ask how your day had been since you were enjoying the holiday, at a block party that a teacher from your school had thrown and were actually making the most of the holiday unlike him.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m alright,” he muttered and didn’t even look up as Dana walked in and grabbed a La Croix out of the fridge with a sigh.
“How is she?”
“She’s well,” he said since Dana was the only person besides your older brother who knew about you two.
“Good, enjoying the holiday?”
“Jason is in town so she’s thrilled and is trying to convince him to move here like she did since it’s safer than Raleigh, less assholes.”
“Hey, we got our fair share.”
“Regular breed…not homophobic,” he muttered and sighed at the thought of his brother in law who had been beaten on by too many people in his hometown for his life choices.
“Don’t tell me he got beat up again.”
“He didn’t,” Langdon assured and Dana sighed. “He stopped wearing the trans flag so he’s been left alone. He wore it once and someone told him he’d never be a girl.”
“God…I bet Jason was thrilled.”
“He wouldn’t stop talking about it,” Langdon said and chuckled, smiling when you texted him a picture of you and Jason, eating some burgers and drinking beer, both smiling wide.
You should be here!! But I know you're at the Pitt being a good doctor, ever the hard worker. I love you.
“Hey…other than being here…how are you doing?”
“It’s been hard,” he admitted as Dana grabbed a poster behind his head promoting free donuts for nurses. “People aren’t the same as they were.”
“Did you expect a party?”
“No…Maybe…I guess I just expected more. But no one reached out besides Abbot and he has to.”
“What did he say?”
“He almost killed me but she stepped in and told him to smarten up, act like family and he did. I think we’re on good terms.”
“That’s good,” Dana assured and swallowed Advil with a sigh before giving him a pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll get better.”
“Hey Dana…I’m doing the twelve steps and well one of the steps is amends and I was an ass back on that day, when I accused you and well…”
“You’re forgiven,” she assured but Langdon didn’t believe it. “Now stop talking, we need you back out there.”
“Okay…I just…”
“I know it’s been hard…Louie was hard and today has been hard…but you can’t let it break you. First day back, first chance.”
“Maybe I should talk to Robby.”
“Look he didn’t want to be here when you got back, he was hoping to leave last night and pushed it back to be here for the holiday and shadow his replacement, he’s tense.”
“He looked at me like I killed Louie and I made that woman get the amputation.”
“He’s been an ass to us all, just give him space.”
“How much?”
“Enough,” Dana said and patted him on the back before heading out and grabbing her little intern nurse on the way.
“How much is enough,” he muttered and sighed, running a hand through his hair and going to check his phone when he noticed it had died. “Shit.”
Langdon made his way back to the lockers and pulled open the one at the bottom, plugging the phone into the portable charger he grabbed from home. The screen lit up to let him know it was charging and he smiled at your picture, his background, with your arms wrapped around a dog you insisted on. He was named Murphy and was the love of your life, a big fluffy Bernese Mountain Dog that you grabbed off the street. He was lost and abused and Langdon thought of him and felt compelled to say yes when you started bugging him.
But he secretly loved the dog and their long walks every night, Langdon telling him about life and his thoughts like he had rescued a therapist and not a dog. But it worked and he sighed, shoving the phone back in the locker and stretching out his aching back. It was just another day, another shift and it'd be over before he could blink and you'd be there with a grin and some leftover 4th themed cookies and everything would be better.
“Alright, how are we doing?” Langdon asked as he pulled open the curtain and spotted a man with a small container in front of him. “Not great?”
“He just finished a hot dog eating contest,” his companion explained and Langdon nodded, eyeing his swollen cheeks and throat.
“How many hot dogs did you eat?” He asked and the guy held up his hands as his eyes. “351 hot dogs?”
“No…” he muttered and did it slower.
“Oh…31…still impressive,” he said and the guy nodded as his eyes began to bug out and he spat quite a few of those 31 hot dogs back in the small container as the patient next door dropped his sandwich on the bed. “God…That is not pretty.”
A little while later Langdon managed to deduce that his hot dog eating contest winner was allergic to a specific spice they used in the mix and his face had swelled and everything had gone wrong because of it. Luckily for him he threw up most of the stuff and just needed a quick prescription, that another doctor had to approve, for some allergy medication and Langdon had an arm around his shoulder, a smile on his face.
“I’m feeling so much better.”
“Well I wrote you a prescription, or my coworker did, for Zofran, just in case.”
“Thanks, I think I cleared it all out,” he said and Langdon nodded, mind flashing to the sea of vomit as his stomach rolled.
“So no more hot dogs right?”
“Oh, not today,” he assured and Langdon smiled. “But I’ll be back next year. Got to defend my title.”
Langdon sighed, running a hand through his hair and hoped that you were doing better, having a better time and was just about to walk off and check his phone when Donnie paused, spotting him from across the ED and wandering over. The one good thing to happen all day was their budding friendship and he had been trying to find a good time to mention you, to bring up a double date with him and his partner one day, get him away from his daughter and out for some real fun.
“Yo, they got a Weiner World truck outside. You want one?”
“I think I'll be good on hot dogs for the rest of my life,” he said and Donnie chuckled. “Wait, didn’t I just see you eating a donut?”
“Don’t judge,” he said and stepped aside to not get hit by a rolling bed as Langdon rolled his eyes and booked it to the locker room, grabbing his phone which was still half dead since the charger was bad but at least there was a message from you.
He smiled and stood, leaning against the locker and clicking play on your voice message that was left a couple minutes when you assumed he was having a quick lunch but there was never enough time for that in the ED.
“Hey!!!” you said and he smiled, wide, eyes welling at hearing your voice. “I guess you didn’t get a lunch or a break but I just wanted to let you know that I’m great and having an excellent time at Ben’s block party and I’m pretty sure that Jason has been fully convinced to move here.”
The message stopped for a second and a loud and boisterous laugh came through the phone which signalled that Jason had grabbed the phone and a few seconds later it became even clearer. “I am on the fence about moving but this place and Ben is starting to convince me and I might be more inclined after the fourth is over. Also you did not hear it from me but Ben’s got this brother and he may be cute but that’s her talking, check your wife Frankie.”
“Okay enough,” you said and he could hear shuffling as you got the phone back. “Ignore Jason, he found Barry cute and I did not and I can’t wait to see you later, we’ll need to do something to celebrate the fourth. I’m sad you missed this but I’m proud you went back after everything happened and you know I would’ve believed you could go anywhere. I love you hun and I’ll see you later.”
Langdon smiled and moved his phone into the breakroom, opting for a real charger and rolling his eyes at the leftover donuts, a consolation prize since the hospital was so unwilling to provide proper protection for their nurses. Langdon peaked out of the break room and spotted the new young nurse Dana had been dragging around, eyes wide as she watched Dana and Robby talk about a patient in a room across the way. Langdon had heard rumours of the prisoner, had spotted his favourite coworker Mel tending to him and wondered if Dana pulled some strings to get him more care. He wouldn’t be surprised if she did, Dana always looked out for people, even him. He smiled at the thought and wandered over to the young nurse to give her some reassurance that her intimidating mentor wasn’t half bad.
“It’s Emma right?” he asked and she glanced at him, eyes wide.
“Yeah.”
“How’s your first day going?”
“Good, I think, I haven't killed anyone yet. I’m sorry…I…” she trailed off as he chuckled and shrugged.
“It’s okay.”
“I guess time will tell if I’m cut out for this,” she muttered and he nodded since it tended to work like that, it took being in the job to see if you could actually do it.
“Well, when in doubt, stick with her, kid,” he said and nodded to Dana as Emma sighed.
“She scares me.”
“No, that’s just a tough exterior, she’s warm and gooey on the inside. Reminds me of my wife…Uh…” he trailed off as Emma’s eyes widened and she glanced at his left hand where there wasn’t a ring, it was on a chain around his neck.
“You’re married?”
“That slipped out. Don’t tell anyone, only Abbot and Dana know.”
“Why?”
“Because ER’s love gossip,” he said and spotted Princess and Perlah by the nurses station, muttering about something and sighed. “Especially the nurses, they’re the worst, no offense.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” she assured and he smiled, noticing that Robby patted Dana on the shoulder and walked off towards the viewing room.
“Thank you. Hey, it looks like they’re doing the debrief for Louie,” he said and Emma nodded, letting out a sigh and following Langdon down the hall and into the viewing room where a clean and blood free Louie was sitting peacefully on a hospital bed.
“Remember the day you found him passed out in the park?” Perlah asked and turned to Donnie who chuckled.
“Sure do. I had to drag his ass over here.”
“Came in soaked to the bone,” Princess muttered and stepped forward, patting his leg.
“You saved his life,” McKay added and Donnie shrugged, not wanting to take the credit as Langdon pulled the small photo he found on him out of his pocket. “How about last summer when we didn’t see him for months?”
“He said he finally quit drinking. So he didn’t need to come in.”
“How many times did he say he was gonna quit drinking?” he asked and the group chuckled as he caught Robby’s eye, caught that look and he stared at his feet, not wanting to meet his eyes again.
“He always asked about Harrison.”
“Always said thank you,” Whitaker added and the group muttered in agreement as Langdon looked up, running a thumb over the polaroid.
“Found this with his stuff. Who knew he was married?” he asked no one in particular but it was Robby who let out a sigh as Langdon handed the photo to Donnie so he could tuck it inside Louie’s gown.
“That’s Rhonda, Louie’s wife. High school sweetheart,” Robby began and smiled as the group stared in confusion since it was assumed Louie had forever been alone. “About five years ago I was covering a night shift. He came in feeling talkative. Born and raised in Pittsburgh, lifelong Steelers fan. Groundskeeper at Three Rivers Stadium until 1998. He never really wanted kids, but Rhonda wore him down, and when she finally got pregnant, he changed his tune, he got excited. And then about a month before the baby was due, Rhonda and the baby were killed in a car crash. Louie never really came back from that. May his memory be a blessing.”
The crowd echoed it as Langdon sighed and caught that Emma had dropped his hand from where she grabbed onto it, giving him one last shot at holding the baby he never had and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Langdon was wrecked to say the least, his mind shot and he sighed, loud and made his way back to the main part of the ER, hoping for some peace and quiet to let his mind rest and recoup after everything that happened.
Sure Louie didn’t die because of him, his death was caused as a result of drinking too much for too long but it still felt like he had a part in all of it, like someone should blame him. Maybe it was the Librium from before, maybe if he didn’t steal the pills Louie would be there but he couldn’t let his mind fill with a million and one what ifs and maybes, it wasn’t a good idea. Especially not when he spotted his brother in law wheeling someone in at the far end of the ED.
“Dana? Why is Abbot here?”
“He was helping out for security at a parade and a guy freaked out, they brought him here.”
“Fight bite?”
“Seems like it,” she said and he sighed, wandering over to the camo clad Jack Abbot who spotted him before he could, eyes narrowing as he left his fighting victim with Whitaker and wandered over.
“Dr. Abbot,” he greeted and he rolled his eyes, grabbing his arm and dragging him off and behind a portion of trauma rooms where no one would be walking by. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“You started already?”
“They offered an early shift since it’s the holiday.”
“What did Robby think?”
“You’d be better off asking him than me, he’s avoided me.”
“I don’t blame him, you really pissed him off,” Abbot said and he nodded, fully aware of how in deep shit he was.
“He’s not as forgiving as your sister.”
“No he is not,” he agreed. “How is she?”
“Been enjoying a block party that was thrown by her coworker, trying to convince Jason to move here and I think it might be working.”
“I hope so, he deserves a place like this. Sure the entire country is a bit fucked but at least Pittsburgh is blue and he’s forever been a Penguins fan.”
“I’ll share some tickets if he moves.”
“Excellent, I’m sure my sister will drag him to a few games like she did you.”
“I told myself I was football all the way, she corrupted me.”
“You’re not mad,” Abbot accused and Langdon chuckled in agreement.
“I’ll never be mad at her, she’s the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said and Abbot nodded. “Did she tell you her plans for the new school year?”
“She mentioned a kid in her class, Eric?”
“He was living in the school gym for months and she wants to give him a shot at a real family after he lost his a couple of years back, someone better than the horrid foster parents he was trying to escape from.”
“So she wants to take him in.”
“She’s determined,” he agreed and Abbot smiled. “It might be a new adventure, she never wanted to go through the horrors of making a kid, her words not mine, but maybe this is a good solution.”
“She always had been good at making sure people get what they deserve, from Jason to that kid, no one is feeling left out around her.”
“Not even me,” Langdon said and Abbot sighed, patting him on the shoulder since they had grown closer in the years since he married his sister.
“I should head back and see what’s going on with Robby, he’s been snippy and should be checking out the man I brought in.”
“Good luck, I’ll let you know if I hear anything else, I’m assuming that Jason has been phoning me.”
“Ah yes, ever the talkative one that man.”
“Always,” Langdon agreed and chuckled, giving Abbot one last grin before he followed him back to the main area just as Dana walked over, a grim look on her face. “Anything the matter?”
“Two GSW’s on their way, another died in the street, we also don’t know what happened with the shooter, someone said that they ran off.”
“Geez…can’t be a fourth in America without something like that.”
“No kidding.”
“Any information about the patients?”
“Just that they needed to be transferred here from Westbridge after whatever happened to it, will be here shortly, I’ll let you know if I get any more information.”
“Thank you,” he said and smiled, making his way back to the breakroom and grabbing his phone, hoping to let you know that Abbot was okay, at work early and seemed to be okay, even enjoying his time volunteering. “What the hell…”
On the screen were a couple dozen notifications and it seemed like his phone had been going off the entire time it was in the break room and the messages ranged from encouragement to worry and he took a seat at the table, shoving a box of donuts aside. The last message to come through was from close to thirty minutes ago and Langdon narrowed his eyes as he scrolled up, tapping on the one right after the message he listened to shortly after noon.
“Hey hun, it’s me,” you said and he smiled, still thrilled to hear your voice. “I thought you’d have a break by now but it doesn’t look like it, just wanted to call and let you know that Julie from social services called and it seems like we might be well on our way to approval. I hope so and I’ll call tomorrow after the holiday but maybe we can debate renovating that room at the back like you always wanted. Stay safe though hun, I love you.”
Langdon smiled and moved to the next, a message about your coworker who organised the event, Ben and the fact that his cooking was horrible but you were trying to be nice and another about how Jason wouldn’t stop standing way too close to Ben’s brother. It all sounded normal and he was grateful for it until the last message started that way and got a bit weird, a bit concerning.
“Hey it’s me,” you began and he could hear Jaosn laughing in the back. “We got word that something weird is going down a few streets near us and I’m pretty sure it’s nothing important but we have gotten a little quiet here. Ben is convinced that people are just being overly cautious but he has a friend coming by with some extra help, whatever that means, I’ll keep you updated.” He narrowed and clicked on the next message which was left about ten minutes after that first one. “Hey…Hun…Frank…It’s interesting, his friend is a character and…Oh my god…” Langdon stood, nearly dropping the phone when a gun shot could be heard behind you and people started screaming. “I gotta…we…Love…Help…”
The line went dead and he dropped his hand, phone clattering to the tabletop and he left it there before running out to the nurses station and nearly colliding with a corner to find Dana missing and Princess in her place.
“Dr. Langdon?”
“Where’s Dana?”
“Helping with a woman who was SA’d, I got the short end of the stick,” she said and laughed but frowned when he didn’t follow.
“Do you know anything about a trauma case, two GSW’s.”
“Yes…they’re close.”
“Information?”
“Uh…one male, one female and a male died on scene…”
“Where?”
“In the Parkswood Neighbourhood, someone heard shots and when the cops and EMT’s arrived they found a scene and the shooter ran off, they’re looking for him. Westbridge was closer but after what happened they got diverted and will be here soon I think, a few minutes.”
“Any other descriptors?” he asked and could feel his heart pounding since it all lined up, Ben’s neighbourhood, your voicemail, it was all a bit too perfect and he hated it.
“No…nothing, you know how they are, be happy we have gender and injury description.”
“Where’s Abbot?”
“Dr. Abbot walked into trauma 4.”
“Thank you,” he said and ran off, pulling open the door and choosing to ignore a shirtless Abbot being treated for a cut by Mohan.
“Langdon?”
“We need to talk, trauma incoming, two GSW’s.”
“I heard,” he said and Mohan nodded that he was done as he pulled on a shirt just as the doors burst open and in came a stretcher, they were too far to see but they could hear the personal description.
“34 yr old male, two GSW’s, one to the left lower leg and the other in the shoulder, awake and aware on the journey here but fading in and out from blood loss.”
“Name?” Robby asked as Langdon and Abbot moved to the main part of the ED and it was like lightning struck them, Abbot going rigid as he tossed his bag at Mohan and bolted over to the stretcher, grabbing the edge of it as Robby raised a brow.
“Jason Abbot, medical records won’t say male, been on testosterone for about eight years, no other allergies to any medication and no prior medical history, definitely none of this caliber.”
“Hey…JA….”
“Didn’t want to see you like this,” Abbot said and reached out, rubbing a hand along his younger brother's cheek as he fell back, head resting on the pillow and he choked back a sob. “God…AJ…Dammit…”
“You know him?”
“He’s my brother and the next is my sister,” Abbot said and Robby raised a brow as he rattled off your name just as you appeared and it was Langdon’s turn to completely shatter.
“30 yr old female, two GSW’s, one to the right lower leg, just above the knee and the other to the chest which is the one we’re worried about. She was awake and breathing on the way but crashed about 100 feet out from the ED. No exit wound on that chest shot.”
It felt like he had been shot, his heart beating out of control as he watched with eyes glazed over as an EMT delivered a gurney with you on top of it to Trauma r3 and began to rattle off other symptoms you had. Something about blood loss and seizing and that problematic gunshot wound with no exit and how it had got shockingly close to quite a few vital organs. Langdon stood there, eyes wide and realised that he wasn’t breathing, he was just existing and nothing more as the rest of the ED went by around him like he was watching it in third person. He saw Robby as he walked over, eyes full of concern and felt an arm on his shoulder, felt movement as he dragged him away and stared straight ahead as Robby shook his shoulders to get him to finally acknowledge something was wrong.
“Sorry.”
“No…don’t be,” Robby said and lowered him onto a chair, grabbing a bottle of water off a nearby lunch cart and handing it over but Langdon didn’t take it, he couldn’t even move. “I take it you know her.”
“She’s…she’s my wife.”
“What?”
“She’s…Abbot’s sister…”
“I knew that much…I’ve heard about his siblings but he never mentioned she was married…and to you?”
“Four years…August.”
“God…I want you to stay away from trauma 3…she’s not your patient, she’s your wife and you are a concerned family member and nothing more, not a doctor, not anything…okay?”
“Robby…”
“No…Concern yourself with someone else or even sit in the staff lounge and ignore everything else that has to do with her until she’s stable. If you go in there, I will kick you out and every other doctor in that room knows it…Got it.”
“Got it…” he muttered and sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking up to spot another gurney and assumed it was another person who got caught in the crossfire. “I’ll take that one, it’ll keep me away from Trauma 3 and keep me busy.”
“Okay…keep that promise.”
“I will,” Langdon assured and moved to walk over to the room the new guy got dumped in, avoiding looking at you like he was allergic to the sight of it. “What do we have?”
“40 yr old male, he was shot in the right leg at the scene, exit wound present, walked into chairs like nothing happened but Lupe sent him back here when she noticed the bleed.”
“Thank you,” he muttered and smiled at the EMT before turning to the man. “Hello, my name is Dr. Langdon and you are?”
“Uh…Jerry.”
“Nice to meet you Jerry, were you on the scene when the shooting happened?”
“I was,” he said and cringed when he moved. “Got hit when I was running, didn’t see much behind me.”
“Well you’re lucky that it has an exit wound, just some stitches should be fine, it missed the bone, anything major. You’re very lucky.”
“Thank you, will you be doing the stitches?”
“I will…it won’t take long,” he said and grabbed a pair of gloves, glancing out the door, spotting your room where the curtains were closed and sighed. “Sorry.”
“Anything on the mind?”
“Uh…my wife was involved in the shooting. She’s in the room across the way.”
“Unfortunate. Uh…do we need all these nurses here?”
“Uh…no…they can leave,” he said and nodded to Jesse who patted him on the shoulder and wandered out of the room to check on someone else as Langdon sighed. “Sorry…I’m a bit out of it.”
“Oh…I am to,” Jerry agreed and Langdon chuckled, looking up and his jaw dropped when he saw that Jerry, the arguably sweet man he was charged with helping, was holding a gun towards his chest. “That’s your wife right?”
“Yes.”
“She’s also a good friend of Ben’s. I was a good friend of his but he stopped talking to me after I went to prison for something that was his idea. We robbed a store, sure I killed the guy and he said not to but it was still his idea and yet I was the one who got charged with first degree, I went to jail and I lost fifteen years of my life. And now he’s dead, too bad and I want you to make sure she doesn’t pull through.”
“Why?”
“Because she gave him a purpose, she gave him a life and friends and I lost all of that. I got out two years ago and there was no one there but Ben got everything so I want him to lose even more.”
“Isn’t dying enough?” Langdon asked and he shook his head.
“Never enough. Get going and I’ll be watching,” he said and bobbed the gun up and down as a method of motivation which worked and Langdon dipped out of the room, heart pounding as he moved to the other side of the ED and pulled open the door to your room.
“Langdon, what did I say?” Robby asked and looked up, gloves covered in blood but your heart was beating and in a steady rhythm and he swallowed hard.
Langdon mimed the situation across the hall the best he could, using a finger to mimic death by slicing it across his throat as Robby’s eyes narrowed.
“Across the hall…He’s not okay,” he said and glanced back. “You could say that one small thing would trigger him and we might need to call someone to stop it.”
“Stop it,” Robby repeated and nodded to Moahn to take over, which she did as he moved to the door and glanced at the man across the hall, saw the way he was looking intently, eyes narrowed. “Right…Moahn…call for some back up scrubs, this might get bloody.”
“What colour?” Samira asked and glanced at Langdon as he tensed.
“White,” Robby said and the room went quiet as the reality of the situation all became clear. “We need white, lots of them. And make sure that the white scrubs don’t trigger anyone.”
“Of course,” she said and moved to the phone at the back of the room and pulled it off the hook, speaking the order for the white scrubs, the blatant lie, the call for security to Trauma 3.
Langdon let out a breath that he had been holding and moved out of the room, wanting to get away from the situation and away from Jerry in the other room before he realised he didn’t go through with it, he denied his wish. But the damage had already been done and he stepped out only to be slammed against the reinforced glass wall of the room, Jerry right in front with a nasty look on his face and that gun he had smuggled in pressed against his chest.
“She’s still alive,” he hissed and Langdon hissed out a curse, trying to shove the guy off but he was stronger than him and angrier.
The other people around the two of them seemed to take notice, they caught that something was wrong and Langdon glanced out at the ED, locking eyes with Abbot who had just walked out of the room where they were treating Jason. He caught the situation in seconds, saw the way he was being held and was over and next to him before Langdon could even blink, grabbing the shoulder of Jerry and slamming him against another wall with a glare. Langdon had treated the experience with a level of numbness, his brain still hadn’t caught up to anything that had happened in the last few hours and it was starting to.
He could feel the pressure of what happened, feel his breath catch as he looked back at the other room and saw his coworker, saw Dr. Mohan as she looked over a series of bandaids on your chest as she informed the surgical resident Dr. Yolanda Garcia that she needed some final round of surgery to make sure everything was okay. He looked back to see Abbot holding the guy against the ground, eyes narrowed as security made their way over and got to work keeping Jerry contained, getting the gun off of him and assuring the rest of them that they were okay. He locked eyes with Langdon who wasn’t looking at anything in particular, his brain numb and body even worse off as he moved out of the hall and over to a set of stairs that led to the roof and barely anyone used.
Langdon burst out into the hot air of a Pittsburgh fourth of July and breathed in deep, trying to calm his heartbeat which wouldn’t stop. He grabbed the railing and refused to let it go, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to stand or that he’d dare jump over top of it. He could feel his body attempting to catch up, could feel his arms shake and his breath quicken like he was being shot with a bunch of adrenaline. Langdon breathed in deep, deeper than before but nothing seemed to work and the adrenaline caused him to finally crash, leaning against the railing and letting out a series of violent sobs since it was all becoming a bit too much to handle.
From the bad shift already and Louie dying to the shooting and you showing up on that gurney, your white USA flag tank top stained red. A part of him regretted that shift, regretted not being there and while he had tried to not dwell earlier, now felt like the perfect time and it was like his entire body had finally decided to stop.
His mind was a rush of memories, ones of you and your time with him, getting the dog and bringing up the kid at school chief among them not to mention that wedding day on a Saturday in August in the heat but it didn’t matter. You looked incredible and he’d anyone who listened that it was the best day of his life, better than his Carnegie Mellon scholarship, better than graduation and the med student rotation at the Pitt, better than everything. Now it could be taken from him, could be lost to a man with an anger problem and for the first time in hours the thought of it had finally made him question whether you’d pull through or not.
Langdon had felt certain the whole day, but now he wasn’t sure and all his mind wanted to do was crash, launch himself off that roof and join you if it didn’t end the way he was hoping. Rational was gone and another part of his brain was desperate for someone to come looking for him and the man jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up to find Robby, eyeing him.
“Robby…”
“Hi.”
“How’d you find me?”
“Guess who else finds solace on the roof?” he asked and Langdon raised a brow as Robby moved to sit next to him, closer than he had been the entire shift. “Abbot guessed that’s where you ran off to and I agreed, offered to come and look.”
“Why not him?”
“Because we need to talk,” he deadpanned and Langdon sighed. “I know it feels like a bad time but I’ve been avoiding you the entire shift and I don’t think that’s very fair.”
“So you want to talk now?” he asked and rubbed at his eyes as Robby shrugged.
“Maybe it’ll help. Maybe you need this more than you think. What is on your mind?”
“A lot,” he deadpanned and Robby chuckled. “But…the main thing on it is Louie.”
“Louie?”
“What you said back at the debrief…about his wife dying and how he spiralled…it made me think of what would happen if I ever lost my wife and to be that close, to feel like I’ve lost her. It feels like I already have and I’ve spiralled once before, you were there and I fully believe that she is the only reason I am still alive to talk to you up here. She stuck by me…she kept me alive.”
“What did she think about all of it?”
“She was upset, less so about what happened and more so that I was too scared to tell her that my back hurt that bad. That I needed to go that far to get some semblance of relief when I could’ve just asked for it. But we worked through that part, got better and she stayed by my side when no one else did. When no one from the Pitt reached out in those ten months I was annoyed but I didn’t care…because she was there and eventually Abbot.”
“I assume he was mad.”
“He almost killed me,” Langdon said and chuckled. “But he eventually forgave me and we’re thick as thieves now.”
“He never told me his sister was married.”
“We asked to keep it secret. ED’s gossip and I didn’t want to involve him. I always felt bad that no one knew but it worked out. But all of it doesn’t excuse what I did and…I’m sorry.”
“I know…I can feel it. You’ve been wanting to make amends since you arrived.”
“And?”
“This makes it better but it doesn't make it perfect.”
“You need your sabbatical, time away.”
“I do and you need to know that she’s fine, she’s alive and will stay that way for a very long time. The surgery all went well and she’s in the ICU along with Jason and waiting for you.”
“Thank you,” Langdon said and sniffled. “Do you think we can ever work together?”
Robby paused since he had gotten up, started moving towards the door and his hand was on the handle, ready to pull it and head back to the ED, close out the shift and head on his trip. “I think we have a lot to work towards. Finish this shift, do well for the three months I’m gone and we’ll talk. If not, I’m glad that you got the help you need and that she was there for you, that you didn’t screw it all up like Louie did and while he was an amazing person, he was good at losing himself and you’re not, that’s a skill.”
“Any last advice?”
“Before you see here, think of why it hit so hard…it goes beyond just what happened and your marriage, there was a moment before all of that and I know you’re thinking about it.”
“I might be,” he agreed and Robby patted the door before he walked off, heading back downstairs as Langdon stood and leaned heavily on the railing, emotions still running high.
Robby was correct and he was thinking of a moment, one many years back that made him certain that his life was going to change for the better and it was the day he showed you around Pittsburgh. The day that convinced you to move and take the job offer and take a risk on a new place and a new opportunity, a whole new life and it was all because of him.
July 20th, 2019
For some reason you couldn’t really explain, you chose to listen to your brother and take up the offer he had of a tour with a young student doctor from his work who had a day off that weekend. You didn’t like listening to a guy who was already twenty when you were born and acted more like a father than a brother but he really wanted you to stay in Pittsburgh and you were still on the fence about the whole thing. Some part of you agreed that it sounded like a good idea, the city felt like a fresh start and was much bigger than your small town of nothing but it also felt like too big of a step. It was too much of a fresh start and a new career change and all that stuff that made you terrified to even consider it but maybe a tour would help.
“Who is this guy again?”
“A med student who worked the night shift for a month.”
“He didn’t like your style?” you asked and your older brother, Jack Abbot, scoffed.
“No…he just prefers the day, we can’t all be vampires.”
“And he agreed to show me around.”
“I asked if he wanted to and he said yes, claimed he had a free Saturday and I told him you were available for a tour.”
“Without consulting me?” you asked and he scoffed a second time.
“I assumed you’d be okay with that.”
“I guess I can’t be mad,” you muttered and he laughed. “But you owe me a beer if it sucks.”
“I can do that,” he assured and you noticed a guy looking around that matched the description Jack sent you.
“I gotta go, your tour guide is here.”
“Have fun.”
“I won’t,” you said and ended the call before he could laugh again. “Are you here for me?”
“Depends…are you related to Jack Abbot?”
“Sadly,” you said and he chuckled.
“Frank Langdon,” he greeted and you told him your name, adding that Abbot at the end with a sigh as he smiled. “Your brother is a lot.”
“He can be,” you agreed and leaned against the railing, looking out onto the three rivers that all connected and were partially what the city was known for. “So you agreed to play tour guide.”
“Abbot said it would be an easy job, a lot of fun as well so I thought…why the hell not.”
“Anything in it for you?”
“Just a fun time,” he said and waved a hand towards the three rivers. “What do you think of our city's staple, the three rivers that all meet where downtown stretches high above all the puny people that can’t afford it.”
“It’s beautiful,” you said and chuckled. “My hometown is so small. Miller, North Carolina and even though it has like 3000 people living in it and is steps from Raleigh it feels like we all know each other, which can be a bad thing.”
“So that's why you're moving here.”
“Not moving yet,” you said and sighed. “I have the offer, I've been looking at apartments but it's like I'm being pulled in two different directions. Maybe even three.”
“What's gonna make you decide?”
“I don't know. I got a lot to think about,” you muttered and stared down at the river, enjoying the sound of the water rushing far below the little park downtown. “Miller was nice, it was small and Jason, my older brother but younger than Jack was there and he’s always a riot but I know that getting away from is good for me. It’s nice to not be in a town where you see your ex everywhere.”
“God that must be annoying.”
“Oh it is, feels like he was around every corner, waiting to strike like some kind of demon. It's like that with everybody in Miller since we all know each other's business. Who married who and if they're happy, when they're having kids and how many and who the father might be when they don't turn out quite right. It was a town full of gossip mongers.”
“The ER feels like that,” he muttered and you glanced at him.
“Jack mentioned you're a student doctor, what university?”
“Carnegie. I got in on a scholarship, originally from South Carolina, right around Charleston. This place also felt like an escape, but it was away from my family who all liked to have a say in what I was doing with my life.”
“My parents died when I was twenty, they were old and senile, so I never got that. Only from Jack who was more of a parent than a sibling anyways.”
“Now you can be close to him.”
“I was close to Jason but maybe he'll follow me…North Carolina, especially small town North Carolina doesn't tend to like people like him. They all remember him as what he was, not what he is now,” you said and sighed, moving to sit on the lip of a large fountain, the central feature of the park as Langdon followed. “You know…can I say something existential.”
“Always.”
“I feel like Pittsburgh right now,” you said and he raised a brow. “Like I have three rivers meeting around me and now I have to choose one. River one is the easy one, it's the small town that I've always known and a job I love and Jason. But it's easy to run into your ex at a grocery store in a town where he still lives.” Langdon nodded, getting at what you were going for as you sighed and looked at the next river, off to the left. “River two is the most interesting one, it's this great unknown. I took a painting class in college, needed something extra and I never liked it but maybe I've been hiding this raw talent for years. Maybe I can just grab an easel and start again, move to Milan and paint where the experts did and never have to worry about exes ever again. It's really hard to run into one at a grocery store across the world, practically impossible.”
You stood, walking over to the Ohio River, the one you were now closest to and the most drawn to. “River three is just as interesting, it's less ambitious than Milan but still a new adventure, not the hometown full of people who all know me too well. But I only know Jack here and it's a new job and a new place and a new set of worries that I'll make one wrong move and regret everything. And sure it's impractical to run into an ex only a few states away but it's not impossible, there's still that small chance. But it also feels safe at the same time, like I've been looking for an excuse to escape and here it is…calling to me.”
It was as if the river heard the call and a large boat went by at that exact moment, spraying you with a bit of water like a tug in the right direction. You smiled, wiped your face and turned to Langdon who looked like he wanted to add in his own two cents and was wondering if you even wanted to hear it. You didn’t know the guy, you had just met after Jack insisted that he was nice and looking for more friends in a city where even he didn’t feel like he belonged but you liked him, you thought his tour so far was good and his musings were interesting.
“Can I offer up some…how do I put this…extra water for river three?”
“Extra water?”
“Something to pad it out.”
“Sure,” you said and smiled as he joined you by the river.
“Well…you’re worried about three very different things. In river one you know too many people, an entire town and in river two you know too little, basically no one. But in river three you have a little bit of everything, you know two. Sure it’s not a lot but it’s better than too much and less lonely than none.”
“Who’s my second?” you asked and he smiled. “You?”
“Why not?” Langdon said and you rolled your eyes. “What? Is my tour that bad?”
“It’s been quite good,” you said and he smiled as you sighed and pulled out a penny from a purse full of change. “Might as well make a wish on river three.”
“Is that the one you’ve chosen?”
“Maybe it chose me,” you said and tossed it in the water of the Ohio River with a sigh as Langdon smiled and began to ramble about a bar in downtown that sold the best burgers and their beer was cheap and good which was always a bonus.
You spent hours walking through downtown and seeing the sights and enjoying a city that was pulling you closer and closer the more time you spent there. Maybe it was the man by your side and how his blue eyes looked a shade brighter in the sunlight and got real blue when he blushed which he did every time you laughed because he liked the sound more than he’d care to admit. Maybe it was the tour, the weird and rambling tour that you loved because it felt authentic and was given to you by someone who also didn’t feel like he fully belonged and he’d been in the city longer than you had. But maybe you could keep exploring together and at the very end of the tour when he dropped you off at a hotel that Jack recommended you phoned your friend that offered the teaching job at the brand new high school downtown and told him you’d take it.
You sank yourself deep into river number three and knew you didn’t plan on leaving it anytime soon.
July 4th, 2025
You awoke with a start and looked around to find what appeared to be a bed in the ICU. A bundle of monitors and IV’s all keeping you alive as you blinked and tried to convince your brain to start functioning again. You remembered pieces of that day, like Jason insisting on doing something for the holiday and Langdon getting the call back to work earlier than he thought since they needed someone for the holiday rush and Ben’s offer of a block party.
Your mind flashed to the moment the man with the gun arrived, when he declared that he felt betrayed and started firing to get his revenge and the entire day was slammed into panic mode in seconds. You didn’t think about your own safety, everything just flashed to Langdon and what he would do if you didn’t make it, but you did and spotted him sprawled out in a chair in the far corner of the room.
“Langdon?” you asked and he practically jumped out of the chair. “Sorry.”
“No…don’t be,” he assured and walked over, wrapping you in a tight hug as his eyes filled with tears. “God…you’re okay.”
“I am…is Jason…”
“He’s perfectly fine…or will be at least.”
“That’s great and Ben…”
“I’m sorry, hun,” he said and you sighed, wishing him the best wherever he was. “He died on the scene.”
“God…Ben mentioned Jerry all the time but we all thought he was never coming back, stuck in jail. I guess he got out.”
“I was terrified when you came in…I could barely function and then Jerry followed with a gun and Abbot had to step in and nearly kill the guy, he was lucky that security pulled him back or else he’d be in hot water right about now.”
“How is Jack?”
“He’s with Jason, I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“And you?”
“Better now…hell of a first shift back,” he muttered and pulled the chair closer before grabbing your hand. “But I’m better now.”
“Did you talk to everyone?”
“All but Santos but I will, I’ll find a moment. I was just happy Robby approached me, he found me on the roof when I wasn’t thinking straight, talked me down and gave me some good advice to keep getting better and to focus on one moment, keep it there and hold onto it.”
“What moment?”
“July 20th, 2019 when you called yourself Pittsburgh.”
“The three rivers…home, here and Milan.”
“Do you still like your choice?”
“I do,” you said and he smiled. “River three…Pittsburgh…where I know two people, not one, not too many…but just enough.”
“And you also met a cool guy who was a pretty damn good tour guide.”
“He was okay,” you admitted and Langdon rolled his eyes, leaning forward and giving you a kiss, hand running along the ring on your left like it was a lifeline. “We’ll be okay.”
“We will,” he assured and turned just as Jack appeared in the doorway and didn’t say a thing as he walked over to the bed and wrapped you in a tight hug, the big and burly man nearly breaking down as he held you so close it hurt.
The two of them made up river three, this big and bright city full of possibilities that you were so grateful you could call home for it felt like the right choice, the choice that mattered. You wrapped Langdon’s hand and held on tight just because you could and knew that he’d be okay, he had a lot of people in his corner but one constant, you. You’d always be there for him, assuring him that he’d be okay like you did that morning when he was nervous for his first shift back and sure it wasn’t perfect, far from it indeed but it felt like a shift that mattered. He felt like he was back and could become better than ever because he had the woman who made it easy to breathe at his side and he wasn’t about to ever let her go.
