𝐁.

“Ugh, my account got overdrafted again,” You whined, closing the bank app. 

It was hard enough being a graduate student, but it was even harder having to navigate all of this alone. “Well, it’s ramen noodles for dinner again,” you muttered to yourself. 

You push back the sting of tears before they can reach the surface of your eyes—no use in crying over something like this when you’d grown used to it. Growing up, you always knew you would do great things in life. You refused to accept anything different. You had locked in during high school and managed to get a full ride to a college of your choosing. You’re a first-generation college student trying to break generational curses. 

Who said it was all going to come easy? 

You had grown up as the eldest daughter with two other siblings, along with living in a single-parent household. You were used to playing the second parent to your siblings while your mother had to work later shifts to put food on the table. You didn’t complain once when you had to put your social life on hold to help out around the house. At sixteen, you got your first job at a local diner to help your mother out. 

Of course, your mother hated that you felt like you had to do any of these things, but she appreciated that you had stepped up to help. As an older sibling, everyone knows the wear and tear of trying to make sure that everyone is okay before you are. 

You had locked in during college and graduated summa cum laude. Now, you were well on your way to pursuing a PhD in forensic psychology. However, no matter how much you planned, nothing could prepare you for just how expensive everything was with your degree. Luckily, you had secured a graduate assistantship that covered your tuition, but you were still struggling to cover rent, bills, and groceries. 

You felt like there was just never a time for you to get a break. You were tired of always wondering how you’d make ends meet. You were tired of having to stop yourself from treating yourself because you had to be responsible.

You just wanted to let loose and enjoy life. You wanted to go into a store and buy without worrying if your card would decline. 

You just wanted to be taken care of for once in your life. 

To cope with your current situation, you made a bowl of ramen noodles with an egg and ham to make it seem fancy. You turned on the TV and immediately began watching Pretty Woman. Almost immediately, you start to question if this is the best idea to watch this movie. You can’t help but long for the same spoiled treatment that Richard Gere’s character offers to Julia Roberts.

How nice would it be to have a man who wanted nothing in the world besides taking care of you and all of your needs? What a dream that’d be. 

It felt like one of those lightbulb moments that went off over your head. 

You went to grab your phone from the kitchen table and immediately searched “Best sugar daddy sites.”

You shop around the sites for the next thirty minutes, going on Reddit to get reviews from the sites. The last thing you need is to be getting scammed by some creep or ending up on an episode of First 48. It would be super annoying to have your family say, “You lit up a room.”

Finally, you come upon a site called “Sugar and Spice.” From the reviews, the majority of the women your age gush about how they’d found their sugar daddies on the site. You like the site even more because they advertise that they’re women-owned, and you have to be approved by their team before joining. 

You quickly apply with all of your information. Within the next hour, your application will be approved to move to the next step: Setting up your account. 

Your username proves to be a difficult task. What was something that came off sexy, yet demure? You workshop a few usernames before settling on _pinklovergirl. Pink had always been one of your favorite colors, so why not add it to your username? 

Next, you added your interests. 

Then came the part where you added your goals and what you hoped to gain from the app. 

You think it over for a few seconds. Then you start to type: “I’m a PhD candidate who’s in way over my head with costs in this economy. I’m looking for someone who doesn’t have a problem with taking care of me.” 

You opt not to add a picture because you’d hate the thought of some creep using your picture to find you without your consent. 

The last part of the application is where you pick out the age range that you’re looking for. You mentally go over the choices in your head. You’d always liked older men, so that doesn’t bother you. You slide the slider over to between the ages of 40 and 55. 

Once you click confirm, your profile is officially live. Now you just have to wait to get a few hits. 

You shrug and place the phone on the table before going back to watching Pretty Woman. Soon, you’re asleep on the couch.  

In the morning, you groan and stretch out on the couch. Reaching out to grab your phone to check the time, you sit up once you notice that you have notifications from Sugar and Spice. 

The first message that catches your eye is one from someone named silverfox45.

Silverfox45: Hi.

_____________________

Jack Abbot is a man known for seeking danger. It’s one of the things that keeps his therapist up at night. 

“You know, Jack, when I said that you needed a hobby. I didn’t mean going out and joining the SWAT team,” Dr. Richmond said, shaking his head lightly.

He’d been seeing Jack as a patient for many years, and he never failed to be either concerned or amused whenever Jack would mention his next exploit. 

Jack shrugs and smiles at the man, “Well, you’ve known me for a while. You know I love thrill-seeking things. What would you recommend? Me going out and buying a plant?”

Dr. Richmond nods, “Yes, actually. Not a plant in particular. I think your covert suicidal tendencies have you chasing your next thrill, so if something happens, you don’t mind if it does. If you had something…or maybe someone that keeps your mind otherwise preoccupied, I would say that I believe you’d slow down on these things.”

Jack shrinks back in the chair, “Ouch, Doc, we’re using the s-word in session now?”

“We are, if I believe that it applies to you, Jack.” Dr. Richmond looks down at his watch and sighs, “That’s all the time we have for now, Jack. For your homework, I’d like for you to go find a hobby that doesn’t consist of any danger.”

Jack smirks, “Can’t promise I’ll find anything, but I’ll try.”

When Jack leaves Dr. Richmond’s office, he tries to think of anything that he could do as a hobby. Golfing? Nope. Frankly, he sucked at golf, and he found it rather boring. 

Fishing. He already did that with Robby. 

He thinks back to Dr. Richmond’s words on taking care of something. He could get a plant, but he knew the thing would be dead in a week. A dog or a cat sounded appealing, but with the hours that he was pulling at the Pitt, the poor animal would be neglected. 

But then it hits him. A person. Maybe he could try his hand at making a friend or building a relationship with someone. 

He goes home and sits on the couch. He opens the browser on his phone and types in, “Seeking companion.” Jack strolls through a few sites before one catches his eye: Sugar and Spice. He clicks on the site and nods in appreciation at how thorough the owners appear to be. 

He signs up for the site, and his application is immediately approved. He goes through all of the steps before setting the age range that he’s interested in. 

Once he confirms the last bit of information, he strolls through various profiles of potential interests. Some are more subtle in their approaches, and some are more obvious. He keeps strolling until he stops on one profile, _pinklovergirl. 

Interesting. He reads through your profile and decides that he likes what he sees. He clicks on the button to message you. He sends a simple “Hi.” 

He can see from the green dot that you’re active. He waits to get a response from you. 

_____________

You’re pacing. 

In fact, you’re pacing so much in the living room that you accidentally run into the table. A small pain shoots up your leg from where you’ve bumped it, and you move to sit on the couch. Once you sit down, you move the phone closer to yourself. 

You can see that Silverfox45 is still very much active and waiting for your response. Mentally, you go over a few responses in your head. 

‘You’re overthinking this. Just text normal.’ You think to yourself.

You take a deep breath to start typing out your message. 

_Pinklovergirl: Hi.

All of that stress for two letters. Immediately, Silverfox45 starts typing his message out to you. As the bubbles flutter on the screen, so do the butterflies in your stomach. 

Silverfox45: You know from the amount of time that it took for a response, I was kind of worried that you wouldn’t answer

_Pinklovergirl: lol yeah, I’m sorry about that, I was kind of nervous, and I’ve never actually done anything like this before.

Silverfox45: that’s okay. This is my first time doing something like this. 

_Pinklovergirl: If you don’t mind me asking, why did you decide to do this?

Silverfox45: My therapist suggested it.

_Pinklovergirl: Your therapist suggested that you become a sugar daddy?

Silverfox45: Not in those exact words. But he did think it’d be great to focus my energy on less dangerous pursuits 

_Pinklovergirl: Nice..so what exactly do those pursuits entail?

Silverfox45: I’m an attending physician at an ER, and I volunteer with the SWAT some days. 

_Pinklovergirl: So you’re Batman?

Silverfox45: I guess you can say that, sweetheart. Tell me a little bit about yourself

_Pinklovergirl: Well, I'm not Batman, so no excitement there. I’m a PhD student in forensic psychology

Silverfox45: So Criminal Minds?

_Pinklovergirl: lol kind of, but way fewer psychopaths 

For the remainder of the night, you keep texting Silverfox45. He makes you laugh with his witty, sarcastic remarks, but overall, you just enjoy being able to have a conversation with a decent guy. 

It’s two weeks later when Silverfox45 finally asks for your phone number. He tells you that he’d prefer to just text you and call you instead of communicating through the app. 

You’d built enough surface-level trust with him to give him your number. 

The texting continues consistently. You both update each other on your days, and you start to share memes with him, even though he doesn’t know exactly what any of them mean. 

Silver Fox 🦊 

I know this is out-of-pocket, but can I call you tonight?

Lover girl💕

Of course. I’d love to actually be able to hear your voice & not the voice that I’ve been imagining in my head for weeks

Silver Fox🦊

I’ve been told that I have a great voice. I recall someone saying it’s like I have my bedroom voice on all the time

Lovergirl💕

Sounds really sexy when you put it like that

Silver Fox🦊

I’m glad you think so. I’ve been dying to hear your voice too.🫣

Later that night, when you’ve settled on the couch, you anxiously nibble at your fingers in anticipation of the call. You can’t help the rapid thoughts that flash through your mind. What would his voice sound like? Would it be deep and raspy or high-pitched? Would he like your voice? What if the chemistry wasn’t as good over the phone as it was through text? 

Before you can finish ruminating, your phone starts ringing. You can feel the butterflies rolling in your stomach. You feel like you’re about to vomit, but you push the anguish down. 

Tapping the green button, you bring the phone up to your ear, “Hello.”

“Hey. You know you sound exactly like I pictured in my head,” He says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

You laugh, “How can you be so sure that you like my voice when I only said one word?”

He chuckles, “You just said more than one word now, and I can confidently say it’s just how I pictured you sounding.”

“Would it be rude if I said you don’t sound like how I pictured?” You questioned. 

“Not at all. Though I hope you aren’t disappointed.” 

“I’m not. I like your voice,” You said quickly. 

The man on the line chuckles, “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. I hope it’s not too forward, but what’s your name? I think it’d be better to actually call you by your real name instead of Pinklovergirl, even though I do love the name.”

You give him your name, forgoing the last name. 

On the other side of town, Jack rolls the syllables of your name around in his mouth. He likes the way that your name sounds. It’s pretty, and he’d be willing to bet all of his money that you’re even prettier. 

“I’m Jack. Jack Abbot,” Jack said, fully introducing himself. He understands how, as a woman in this situation, it can feel dangerous communicating like this, so he wants to give you his full name for your own comfort. 

“Jack. I like that. Even though I haven’t seen you, I can tell that it fits you.” You reply, which causes Jack to smile. 

You both keep talking, and you’re both pleasantly surprised to find that you’ve both been talking for about three hours. 

Neither of you gets bored with the conversation. It all just flows naturally like you’ve known each other for ages. Jack learns about your PhD studies and your career aspirations. You don’t ask him many questions about his job, which is actually a relief.

As much as Jack loves what he does, it can be exhausting to be reminded of it and have to talk about it. One of his problems is that he’s too consumed with work. He wants an escape from all of that. 

The following days consist of you and Jack planning out phone calls to each other. Since he’s on the night shift, he calls you a lot during your breaks. When he has a designated moment of free time, he goes outside in the ambulance bay to talk to you before you go to sleep. 

Jack 🦊

Would it be too forward if I asked for a picture of you? I just really want to put a face to a voice

You 

Only if I get a picture of you in return😌

Jack🦊

That can be arranged, sweetheart

“Good Lord. He’s gorgeous,” You said, doing double takes at the picture. How was it possible for a man to look that good in his mid 40s? 

You 

Okay, but you’re wayyy hotter than the image I created of you. 

Jack🦊

Nice to know you’re thinking of me😌

But I do believe I was promised a picture in return

You

*photo attached*

On the other side of town, Jack curses out loud in the apartment. No way he had managed to bag a girl as gorgeous as you. His eyes scan over the picture that you sent, and he memorizes every detail of you in his memory. He finds that he really loves your beautiful smile. 

Jack🦊

Jesus, sweetheart. 

If I’d known you were this beautiful, I would’ve called you sooner.

I wanna see you..whether that’s FaceTime or in person. Whatever you’re comfortable with, honey

You nibble on your lips. So far, Jack had proven himself to be trustworthy. He hadn’t made you feel uncomfortable. Usually, most guys would immediately jump into sending sexual text messages early, but Jack had been rather tame in his texts and calls to you. 

Plus, he wouldn’t have given you his real name if he were some kind of crazy maniac. You had done a thorough sweep across the internet to find out more about Jack Abbot. So far, your results have yielded that he was a well-respected doctor.

You had also found his Facebook page, which he occasionally posted on, but those were usually just posts about basketball, fishing, or the occasional outing with his friend, Robby. 

You

Let’s do it. I’m excited to meet you🙂‍↔️

__________________

“I don’t know Sash. Do you think this is too much?” You said, looking in the mirror at yourself. 

You had told your best friend, Sasha, all about your little sugar daddy predicament, along with your planned meeting with Jack today. On Sasha’s end, she couldn’t help but be a little surprised by your impulsive decision-making when it came to signing up for the site and meeting Jack. Usually, you were the more level-headed one out of the two of you. However, she couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of you letting loose and having fun.

“Girl, you look good, and I say that as a lesbian,” She said, giving you a thumbs up in the mirror. 

You had decided to go for a casual sundress, along with sandals for the occasion. Your boho braids were pulled up, and honestly, you looked really good. You could only hope that Jack thought the same.

Sasha stands up from the bed and comes to stand in front of you. She gives you a once-over, “Seriously, you look amazing. He’s gonna be ready to buy you all the Tiffany and Chanel once he sees you. Now, show me the picture of him again.”

You grab your phone and pull up one of the pictures that Jack had sent you. Sasha whistles at the picture, “Dang, that’s a nice looking white man. He looks like he got a rich laugh.”

You chuckle at the statement.

Jack definitely gave off the vibes that he had money to blow. After checking your outfit one last time, you and Sasha check your locations on each other’s phones. You grab your purses, lip gloss, and keys before exiting your apartment. Jack had picked out a local coffee shop for your first meeting, which you appreciated. 

Parking your car across the street, you get out and start walking across the street. When you walk into the coffee shop, your eyes filter across the shop until you stop on the back of Jack’s head. You had spent enough time admiring his picture to recognize those greying curls. 

For a moment, you swallow nervously as the ball of nerves settles in your stomach. He’s not looking so technically; you could make a run for it and come up with some lame excuse. However, fate is definitely not on your side. Just as you’re plotting your escape, Jack turns his head and looks in your direction. He gives you a soft smile that honestly makes you weak in the knees. 

You finally begin to move your legs in the direction of the table that he had claimed. Jack stands and moves to pull your chair out for you. You slide into the chair while giving him a soft “thank you.” He sits back down in his own chair. For a few seconds, you and Jack just stare at each other. It’s as if you both need a moment to process the fact that you’re both actually here. After weeks of texting and calling each other, the meeting between Pinklovergirl and Silverfox45 was official. Now, it was simply you and Jack Abbot–in the real world. 

This was the man who had decided that he wanted to be your sugar daddy.

In person, you have to admit Jack is way more handsome than his pictures give him credit for. You can only imagine how hard it must be for everyone in the hospital with Jack walking around looking like that. Quite frankly, you wouldn’t mind getting hurt more often if it meant that you got to see Jack in his sexy scrubs, assessing your injuries. 

“You’re even more gorgeous in person, but that doesn’t surprise me,” Jack said, finally breaking the silence between you. 

A shy smile crosses your face, “Thank you. But I really have to say, I’m digging the silver curls.”

Feeling bold, you reach across the table to feel Jack’s hair. He leans in closer to your touch and watches as you admire him. Your eyes meet his, “Your curls are amazing. What are you using on them?”

Jack almost whines at the loss of your hand touching him. He shrugs, “Nothing special really. Just a good shampoo and conditioner.” 

You smile, “You should let me define them one day for you.”

He thinks over the possibility of you standing close to him, hands running through his hair, and your body pressed against his. He likes the thought a lot…

“I’d really like that,” Jack replies. His eyes look over to the counter, “Come on, let me buy you a drink.” You follow behind Jack as you both stand in front of the counter. Jack moves to stand closer to you and leans over to whisper in your ear, “Don’t worry about any prices. Just get what you want, okay?” 

He almost bites his lip at the shy look that you give him, but you nod nonetheless.

The barista comes to the counter to take your and Jack’s orders. He looks at you first to order. You order a caramel macchiato while Jack orders a black coffee with sugar and creamer. You’re surprised when he points to the glass container and tells the barista to add a chocolate croissant to the order. He smiles down at you, “It’s early. I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

The girl tells Jack the total, and he taps his card. Once you’ve acquired your order, you and Jack sit across the table from each other again. You casually sip at your coffee while nibbling on the chocolate croissant. You offer Jack a piece to which he politely declines. 

For the next few minutes, you both make idle conversation about your week. It’s a certain point that the conversation shifts to the obvious elephant in the room–the sugar daddy elephant.

“I guess we should start ironing out the details there. Just to make sure that there’s a clear understanding between you and me. You can start first. Tell me how I can help you out, honey,” He said, folding his arms across his chest. 

You can’t help but start to ogle his arms as the shirt stretches across his biceps. When your eyes finally meet his, you find him smiling smugly. Jack’s happy to know that you find him just as attractive as he finds you. 

“Well…I’m not quite sure where to start. I guess I just need help with things like bills and stuff like that,” You answer. Truthfully, yes, you did need help with things like your bills, but you also wanted to be spoiled in nice dresses, jewelry, and the occasional fancy dinner. But growing up, your mother had always instilled the lesson of never asking others for their money, no matter how much you needed it. The thought of asking someone for money physically made you sick to your stomach.

From his side of the table, Jack knows that this isn’t all you want to say, but he can tell that you’re holding back. He decides to take it a step further to help you out, “Hmm…just bills? I can definitely help you out with those, sweetheart, but I think that you should be getting a little more out of this. So here’s what I’ll propose. I’ll buy you whatever you want. I’ll even add you as an authorized user on one of my credit cards. That way, you can buy what you need without waiting on me.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. 

Jack smirks, “Does that sound okay to you?”

“Yeah, it actually sounds too good to be true. What would you be getting in return?” You question, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Just your time, honey. I want you to keep me company. Just casual dates and outings whenever you’re free. In return, you can have whatever you want from me,” He answers. 

“And…you wouldn’t be expecting anything else?” 

Jack can hear the edge of hesitation in your voice. He knows how these types of relationships typically work out. He shakes his head, “No, there’s no expectation for any of that. You set the grounds for this. I won’t do anything that makes you feel unsafe in any way. I’ll only touch you when you explicitly state that you want me to.”

Once again, your eyes zone in on his biceps, and you can’t help but begin to look at his veiny, freckled hands. You can’t help but imagine what his hands would look like around your neck as he held you down. Under the table, you clench your thighs at the image. 

“Okay, all of that sounds fine. Thank you, Jack.” 

Jack loves hearing the sound of his name leaving your lips. He wants to hear it more and more. 

“No, thank you, sweetheart. You’re actually doing me a huge favor.” 

You smile at each other and continue the rest of your coffee date. Jack ushers you out of the coffee shop, and you both continue walking down the sidewalk. He gently grabs your arm to stop you from walking. “Come on, let’s go get you some books,” He said, pointing at the bookstore. 

You give him another surprised look, to which he laughs. “Don’t be surprised, honey. You told me that you liked reading. Wouldn’t want your passion to fade away.” With that, you both walk into the bookstore. Jack can still see your hesitation about picking out any books. He watches you pick up a book, skim over the synopsis, before putting it back. 

He chuckles a little to himself. He’ll definitely have to break that habit out of you.

He turns you to face him and maintains eye contact, “Listen, and I really want you to hear me, honey.  You don’t have to be afraid of spending my money. I want you to. That’s our agreement. Anything in this store that you want is all yours. Just trust me to take care of you, okay?”

Your breath hitches in your chest. You nod shyly.

“I need you to say you understand, sweetheart.” 

You gulp at the low raspiness of his voice, “I understand.”

He nods his head, “Good girl. Now let’s get you some books. I’ll hold all of the ones that you want.”

You and Jack move through the store, with you now openly picking up all the books from your wishlist. You almost squeal in excitement when Jack even points out that you can get the hardcover books, too. 

‘Oh, he got money,’ You think to yourself.

When you and Jack get to the counter, he places all of your books down. The sales assistant rings all of the books up and gives a glance between you and Jack. 

“Your total is $260.83,” She said, looking between you and Jack. 

Jack moves his card to the reader and taps it. A ding sounds out as the transaction goes through. The sales assistant hands Jack the receipt while shooting you an impressed look. Making your way out of the bookstore, Jack walks you back to your car. He places your bag from the bookstore in the back seat. 

When he turns back to you, he’s surprised by you throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him, but he quickly recovers. His arms wrap around your waist as he presses you closer to his body. He can’t help but think about how much he likes having your body pressed against his.

“Thank you,” You whipser into his ear.

“Anytime, babydoll. I had fun with you today,” Jack states. 

A huge smile crosses your face, “I had fun with you, too.”

“I’ll call you so we can plan another date. In the meantime, I want you to send me a list of all of your current bills, so we can work out a consistent schedule.” Jack said, stepping closer to you. 

Your sweet, innocent eyes connect with his, and you hold eye contact. “Okay, I’ll FaceTime you so that we can go over it together.”

“Also, before I forget, I’m gonna be sending money to your account, and I’ll let you know when I have the extra credit card for you,” He explains. The entire time, you just nod your head like a little puppy. Jack smiles. He knows that this isn’t going to be an interesting experience for both of you.

“Okay. Thank you again, Jack.” 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart, but this is only the beginning. Text me when you make it home.”

He opens your car door for you and watches as you drive away. 

In your car, you’re still trying to process the entire situation. You officially have a sugar daddy, and not only that–you have a super sexy silver fox sugar daddy. You make it home and plop down on the couch. You text Sasha to let her know that you made it home. You shoot a quick text to Jack, letting him know that you’ve made it. 

Your phone buzzes in your hands. 

You open up the notification. 

Jack Abbot has sent you $800.00. 

Your phone buzzes again. This time with a text from Jack.

Jack🦊

Just for you, pretty girl.

I can’t wait to see you again.♥️

___________________________

Truthfully, Jack doesn’t wait too long to see you. He’s practically craving the next time that he can be in your presence. The conversations between the two of you stay consistent. 

Even when he’s on his shift, he still keeps the communication strong. He had even bit the bullet and bought AirPods so that he could talk to you while he was in the break room. Shen and Ellis give him a confused stare when they see him sitting at the table talking on the phone. 

“Alright, I’ll talk to you later, pretty girl. Get some sleep,” Jack said to you. He chuckles at something that you say before ending the call. 

He finds Ellis staring at him. “Everything okay, boss?”

He nods and gives him a similar look of confusion. “Yeah, everything’s great. Why?” 

“Well, you rarely come into the break room and,” she pauses to point at the AirPods. “I didn’t think you knew what AirPods were. I took you for more of an earphones with the cord guy.”

Jack rolls his eyes, “Look I’m old, but I’m not that old. I just figured I’d give them a try and I really like them.”

Ellis holds her hands up in defense, “Whatever you say boss man. I’ll leave you to it.”

When she exits the break room, Shen appears next to her and falls in line as they walk down the hallway. 

Shen takes a sip from his Dunkin, “Soo…spill the tea. Did he say anything?”

Ellis shakes her head, “Nope, but there’s a girl in the picture for sure. He called her ‘pretty girl’ at the end of the call.” 

Shen places a hand to his chest and lets out a gasp. “Pretty girl? That’s practically foreplay for Jack. Do you think it’s Mohan?” 

“Could be. We gotta get in with day shift on those bets,” Ellis suggests, to which Shen nods. 

The following week, Jack suggests a date for the two of you. He tells you that there’s a new restaurant that he’s been wanting to try and he wants you to come with him. 

Naturally, Sasha comes over to help you get ready. Also, she wants to see Jack in person. 

“Can you make sure that my dress is okay at the back?” Sasha stands and gently shifts your dress while smoothing out any wrinkles. 

You spritz a little perfume around yourself while making sure that your braids are okay.

A knock sounds out from the front door and Sasha smiles mischievously. 

“Looks like your man is right on time,” She comments. 

You both walk into the living room, and you open the door for Jack. You almost faint at the sight of the man dressed up and looking like he just stepped out of GQ. 

In comparison, Jack trails his eyes over your figure. He doesn’t hide it for a second that he’s blatantly checking you out. 

“Hi,” You said, shifting on your feet.

“Hi. You look stunning, honey,” Jack replies, stepping closer to you. 

He hands you a bouquet of flowers. Sasha gently clears her throat. You chuckle and turn to face her. “Jack, this is my best friend, Sasha. Sash, this is Jack.”

Jack smiles politely and reaches a hand out, “Nice to meet you, Sasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack. I’ve heard great things about you. Are you gonna take care of my girl, tonight?” Sasha probes, lifting a perfectly arched eyebrow. 

She had also been overprotective when it came to you. 

Jack nods, “I’m gonna take care of her with my life. Scout’s honor.” 

Sasha chuckles, “I’ll hold you to it. Now, you two kids get out of here and go have fun.”

She grabs the bouquet from your hand. She gives you a thumbs up before ushering you out the door. 

Once at the restaurant, Jack ushers you inside with a hand on your back. You can’t control the shivers that arise at his touch. The hostess guides you and Jack to your table while placing menus on the table. 

Your eyes widen at the prices on the menu, which Jack immediately clocks. “I can see your pretty head overthinking. Remember what I said, anything you want.”

You nod in response.

When the waiter comes to the table, Jack orders the wine for you. You both place your respective orders. 

Jack takes a sip from his drink while looking at you, “So forensic psychology. That means that you’re good with profiling, correct?”

You nod, “Yeah, I have some proficiency in it.”

“So do me. Tell me something that you notice.”

You smile, “Well for starters, you always arrive on time, if not a little early. You sit straight and you never slouch. Also, you always hold eye contact when you’re talking to others. To me, that indicates some form of military involvement. It’s a special kind of discipline that you can’t forget.”

A low whistle leaves Jack’s mouth as he laughs, “That was good. Really good. You’re spot on with your observation.”

“It’s a neat party trick, and also, a great tool for relationships,” You said, sipping on your own drink. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why aren’t you in a relationship.”

You shrug, “I’ve been really focused on school and trying to be responsible. It just doesn’t leave room for relationships. Also, a lot of the guys that I’ve encountered are too stuck on red pill content.”

Jack shakes his head, “Their loss, really. Gorgeous and smart woman like you deserves to be treated like a princess.”

“And how do you know that I deserve that?”

Jack sips from his drink, “I’m also very observant, baby doll. I can tell that you have siblings. You give off eldest daughter to the max. I’m guessing that you grew up taking care of everyone else, so there was never any room for you to ask for help. And even when you wanted to ask for help, you always stopped yourself because you didn’t want to feel like a burden to others. You’re used to having to be okay for everyone else instead of putting yourself first.”

Your jaw drops at how he had just read you down. Jack smirks, “Am I correct in my analysis, babydoll?”

You roll your eyes teasingly, “I plead the fifth.”

He chuckles in response. Soon, your food arrives at the table. By dessert, Jack is reaching inside his pocket. He pulls out a red velvet box. 

“Hold out your wrist for me, baby doll.”

You hold you your wrist. Jack opens the box and you gasp at the beautiful diamond bracelet inside the box. Jack removes the bracelet and clasps it around your wrist, Your skins feels like it’s on fire with him touching and wrapping the jewelry around your wrist. 

Jack subtly turns your wrist and hums in appreciation, “It looks good on you. I saw it while I was shopping online and figured you would like it.”

“I love it! Thank you, daddy,” You said, flashing Jack a sugary smile.

He smiles at the sudden name. He likes hearing you say it. In fact, his mind goes to other situations that are involve you with far less clothes, whimpering the name as he overstimulates you. 

Honestly, you were testing the word as somewhat of a theory. You had seen many other women comment that their sugar daddies loved to be called “daddy,” so you figured you’d try it on Jack. However, you liked saying the word even more as the pleased look crosses his face. 

“You’re welcome, baby doll.”

_____________________

From that point on, your little arrangement with Jack continues flawlessly. He pays for your rent and other bills, while spoiling you with other gifts. If you want your nails paid for, consider it done. Just let him pick the color or design. 

The baby doll nickname permanently sticks. You’re now his pretty baby doll, while he’s daddy to you. It’s not in a weird way where Jack infantilizes you, but in a way that signifies that he looks after you and you don’t have to worry your pretty head about anything. 

For the first time, you can look in your bank account without anxiety filling your body. This is probably the first time in your life where you felt that you could sit back and relax without having to worry yourself. 

Jack gives you your very own credit card, which is an extension of his. Initially, you only use it for your essentials, such as groceries or toiletries, but Jack shuts that down quickly. 

He reminds you that he wants you to spend the card on whatever you want. Besides, he has way more money than he knows what to do with. A couple of thousand is the least of the worries when it comes to spoiling you.

In fact, Jack discovers something about himself. He loves taking care of you. Something else he discovers. He loves dressing you up and adorning you in pretty jewelry and clothing. The nickname, baby doll, takes on a whole new meaning for him. 

You prop your phone up with Jack on FaceTime. 

“Are you free next week, sweet girl?”

You nod, “Yeah, I don’t have any plans. Why?” 

“Well, we’re having this benefit gala for the hospital, which is basically another way of Gloria trying to seduce donors to give money over to the hospital. These things can be unbelievably boring, so it’d be nice to have a date there,” Jack explains. 

You smile, “Are you asking me to be your date, daddy?”

“Yeah I am, baby doll. I want to have my gorgeous girl by the side. You’re way prettier to look at than Robby,” He said, chuckling lowly. 

“And you’re okay with your co-workers seeing me there with you?” It wasn’t like you and Jack necessarily had a conventional relationship. What would he even say when it was time to introduce you? ‘Oh hey guys, this is my sugar baby.’

You bite nervously at your lip, which Jack notices. “Hey, don’t worry yourself over it. If they ask, you’re my girl. That’s it, which is true. You are my girl. Just because our arrangement isn’t typical, that doesn’t make it any less special.”

Jack’s heart warms at the sight of the bright smile returning to your face. He solidifies in his mind that he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face. 

“I’ll go with you,” You reply, but then a pout appears on your lips, “I don’t have anything to wear.”

Jack chuckle, “Baby doll, I’m taking you shopping tomorrow.” 

You nod, “Okay, daddy, I can’t wait.”

The next day, Jack picks you up to take you to the mall to procure a dress. From the elegance alone, you can tell that the store is on the more upscale side. 

A saleswoman walks up to you and Jack, “Hello, my name is Heather. How can I assist you today?”

“Yes, we’re looking for a dress for my baby doll here for a gala that we’re going to. Whatever she wants, no limit.”

Heather gives Jack an impressed look before smiling at you, “Alright, honey. Let’s find you a dress.” She points at Jack, “You can take a seat over there. I’ll bring her out to show each dress.” 

Jack nods and sits on the couch. 

After a few minutes, you come out of the dressing room wearing a black strapless dress. Admittedly, you look very gorgeous. 

You turn to face the mirror. You can see Jack in the reflection of the mirror. “What do you think of this one, honey?”

“It’s nice, but it’s not calling out to me as much.” You said, turning to face him.

He nods, “Okay, well I’m not in a rush. We’ll stay until you find the one that you like.”

The trip continues with you trying on more and more beautiful dresses. They’re all beautiful, but they’re missing that wow factor. You really wanted to make a good impression on Jack’s coworkers. 

Heather walks back in the dressing room with a navy blue dress, “Your husband asked me to let you try this one on. He said that he thinks that it would complement your skin.”

You don’t even get to correct her on the statement before she’s leaving the dressing room. You slide the dress up your body and instantly, you like the feel of it. 

You walk out of the dressing room and take a look in the mirror. You look stunning. Jack smiles, “I think we found our winner.”

Heather stand off to the side, nodding in approval. Jack looks in her direction, “Hey Heather, can we see the diamond necklace with the blue pendent? I think it would be perfect for this dress.”

Heather walks off to grab the necklace. When she comes back, she places the necklace in Jack’s hands. He walks up to you and stands behind you. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his body against yours. 

Jack’s hands come in front of you and chills appear on your skin as he clasps the necklace around your neck. He leans down and catches your eyes in the mirror, “There, perfect. You look beautiful, babydoll.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” You whisper back. 

He smirks before looking back, “We’ll take the dress and necklace, Heather.”

__________________

The benefit gala rolls around quicker than you anticipate. The nerves are present in your stomach as Sasha helps you to get ready. You had take your braids down earlier in the week, and Sasha had straightened your hair to complement your dress. 

Sasha steps back after applying the finishing touches to your makeup, “You look good sis. It’s giving Pretty Woman for real.”

You think back to the origins of your and Jack’s relationship. It really was a real life pretty woman situation, with the exception of the sex work. 

On the topic of sex, you had been feening for Jack to touch you. There’d been so many times where you wanted to feel his lips pressed against yours, or even have his hands on you. Whenever you and Jack went out, he always had a possessive arm around your waist. 

You liked the idea that he wanted to make it clear that you were his. 

As usual, a knock sounds from the front door, and Sasha goes to answer it. She smirks at seeing Jack stand there, “Well, don’t you clean up nice, Richard Gere.”

Jack chuckles, “Nice to see you as well, Sasha. How’s everything going?”

Sasha shrugs, “Can’t complain. I’m mostly keeping the ladies on their toes. You taking care of my girl?”

She and Jack take a seat across from each other. Jack leans back and crosses his arms, “Don’t you mean my girl?”

Sasha laughs, “Possessive already. Don’t forget who she was sleeping next to before you, Abbot.”

“I won’t. But don’t forget who’s been putting her in diamonds.” 

At this, Sasha laughs loudly. “Alright, playboy, you got me there. But seriously, I’m happy she has you. I can tell that you make her happy.”

“She makes me happy too,” Jack responds.

Soft clicks from your heels alert Jack and Sasha to your presence. Jack stands and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of you. You look like you stepped out of an Old Hollywood set. 

From her spot on the couch, Sasha watches Jack’s reaction to you the entire time. She sees the way that the man looks at you like you’re the beginning and end of the world. It warms her heart to know that you have someone that’s passionate about taking care of you. 

She wouldn’t be surprised if you and Jack’s little arrangement turns into an actual relationship. 

Jack crosses the room to meet you halfway. “Babydoll….you look beautiful.”

You smile, “Thank you. You clean up pretty nice yourself. I think I may like the sight of you in a tux.” Your fingers come up to play with his tie. 

“Guess I have to dress up a lot more then.” Jack replies, eyes still scanning up and down your figure. After grabbing your purse and saying goodbye to Sasha, Jack ushers you outside to his car. 

Throughout the drive, he notices you playing with your fingers. He reaches over to intertwine his with yours. “Relax, they’re gonna love you. I’ll be with you the entire night.”

He gives you a reassuring smile, which you return. Soon, Jack is pulling into the parking lot. He helps you out of the truck and you both walk towards the venue. Jack wraps a protective arm around your waist while guiding you. 

Inside, there’s a lot of people and they all reek of money to spend. You’re hyper aware of the amount of eyes that gravitate towards you and Jack. 

He navigates you towards a group of people, who all fail to the hide the fact that they’re blatantly staring at you and Jack. 

“Jack, good to you, brother,” A taller brunette man say, pulling Jack into a hug and clapping him on the back.

“Nice to see you too, man,” Jack responds. 

From the pictures around Jack’s house and on his Facebook, you recognize the man as Robby. 

Robby’s eyes turn to you, “And who is this?”

Jack turns to you with a soft smile, “This is my girl.” He says your name at the end of the sentence. 

Robby smiles gently at you, but you can see the questions swirling through his mind, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Robby, I work with Jack.”

You smile, “It’s nice to meet you. Jack talks about you a lot.” 

“Does he? Well, he failed to mention you to me, and I’m his best friend.” 

You wince slightly at the statement. You suppose that Robby doesn’t mean for it to come out that way, but the sentence does remind you of your current predicament with Jack. Technically, he’s paying you to be here. 

The thought makes your stomach feel queasy. 

Jack wraps his arm around you and presses you closer to his body, “You know how I value you my privacy. We all know you can’t hold water to save your life, so I wanted to keep my relationship with my girl to us.” 

Robby laughs and shakes his head, “You’re right. My bad.” 

The rest of the group filters in to find out who you are. You meet Dana, Shen, Ellis, and some of the residents. You get pulled into a conversations with the residents who start probing into your personal life. 

“Alright, that’s enough of that peanut gallery,” Jack said, guiding you in the direction of the table. 

You’re seated next to Jack and Langdon, who reminds you of a real life Ken Doll. Everyone turns their attention to you. 

“So what is that you do?” Robby questions. 

“I’m getting my doctorates in forensic psychology. I work in a law firm, along with conducting research on the side,” You explain. 

The entire table seems impressed. 

“And how’d you meet, Jackie boy here?” Dana asks, gazing jumping between you and Jack. 

Jack speaks up, “We met on a dating app. I shot my shot at her as you kids like to say.”

Everyone seems highly surprised at Jack Abbot of all people on a dating app. 

Shen chuckles, “Jack you know how to work a dating app. It’s gonna start hailing outside.” 

Jack rolls his eyes, but chuckles nonetheless at the joke. Everyone decides to lay off questioning you, but you can see all of the questions and theories flowing through their eyes. 

Jack makes conversation with Robby, but keeps his hand connected with yours under the table. 

Langdon gives you a flirty look and smiles at you, “Forensic psychology? What made you go into that field?”

You shrug, “The short answer is that I wanted to advocate for people that look like me.”

He nods, “That’s good. I’m sure you’re gonna made a difference.” He looks down at your necklace, “That’s a pretty necklace. Must’ve cost you a fortune.”

You laugh lightly, “Jack got it for me.”

Langdon gives you a surprised look before steeling his expression. “Doesn’t surprise me. Pretty girl like you deserves all the diamonds that money can buy.” 

You chuckle softly. Jack can hear the conversation going on between you and Langdon. He’s tempted to take Langdon outside and punch him out, but he reminds himself to stay professional. 

You feel Jack’s hand shift until it comes to rest on your thigh and squeezes. Your breath hitches. By now, Langdon has turned to talk to Mel. Jack leans over to whisper in your ear, “You having fun?” 

You nod, “Yeah, it’s nice. But only because I’m with you.”

Jack smiles, “I’m glad you’re here too, baby. I couldn’t get through this without you. I gotta admit, it’s a little tough seeing that everyone can’t take their eyes off you.”

His hand moves closer to the slit in your dress and grasps your bare thigh in his hand. His hand moves higher until he stops, “Is this okay?”

You bite your lip and nod at him. He smirks, “You know I need words from you, babydoll.”

“It’s okay, daddy.” 

“Good,” Jack said, fingers ghosting closer to your lacey panties. You and Jack are pulled out of the moment by Shen calling Jack’s name. You lock eyes with Ellis, who gives you a sly smirk. She mostly definitely caught the moment between you and Jack.

After more teasing from Jack and listening to speeches, the gallery is officially over. You say your goodbyes to Jack’s coworkers as you exit the venue. Jack drives back to your apartment and parks his truck. 

“Do you want to come up for a while?” You ask, wide eyes meeting Jack’s. He smiles, “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Inside your apartment, you immediately plop down on the couch and reach for your heels. Jack halts your movements before pulling your feet into his lap. Gently, he removes the heels from your feet before massaging at your sore heels. 

Your eyes roll back at feeling Jack pressing on your feet. You can’t help the small moan that leaves your lips. 

While massaging your feet, Jack begins to trail his fingers up your legs, “You know I saw you and Frank talking at the gala.”

You hear the rough edge in his voice, “We were just talking.” 

Jack’s eye meet yours and your thighs clench at the heated look there, “I didn’t like it.”

“You don’t need to get jealous. I’m all yours, daddy.”

For a moment, Jack stares at you. You feel like a lamb waiting to be eaten. “Can I touch you?”

You nod before moving to seat yourself in his lap. You’re thankful for the slit in that dress that makes the action easier. Tentatively, Jack trails his fingers over your sides like he can’t believe that’s he’s finally touching you. His eyes look up at you, “You’re so beautiful, honey.” 

His hands find the back of your neck before he pulls you down into a heated kiss. You melt into the kiss as you feel Jack’s soft lips against yours. You gasp as he pulls you down into his lap to where your panties are directly pressed against his bulge. 

Jack uses the moment to slide his tongue in your mouth. For the next few minutes, you both sit on the couch dry humping and tonguing each other down. You can’t remember the last time that you had a proper makeout session, and Jack is far surpassing any of your expectations. 

He pulls back, “Let’s go to your room.” 

You nod and lead the man into your bedroom. Inside the bedroom, you and Jack stand in front of your bed. He turns your body and walks up behind you. Jack pulls you closer and his hands find the zipper of your dress. The sound of the zipper moving down fills the room as the chill hits your skin. The silk dress pools at your feet and you’re left standing in your strapless bra and panties in front of Jack. 

He presses his body against yours before a rough hand finds encloses around your throat. He guides your head to connect his lips back to yours. Jack pulls me back, “You were so good tonight and so beautiful. I think that warrants a reward for you. What do you want from me, babydoll?”

“I want you to touch me, daddy.”

Jack smirks, “I’m already touching you, baby. Be more specific for daddy.”

You take his other hand and guide it to your wet panties. Jack breaths deeply, “Yeah? You want me to touch you here, pretty girl? You wanna feel my fingers deep inside you?”

“Yes, please.” 

Jack turns you to face him. His intense gaze feels all-consuming. Your hands go to the bra, which you unclasp. The material falls to the ground as Jack drinks in the sight of your breasts. He lowers his head and places gentle kisses to your skin. He laps at your nipples before sucking one in his mouth. 

You moan as his tongue twirls around your nipple. Your panties are becoming wetter and wetter by the second. Jack switches to the other side to repeat the movement. 

When he pulls back, he guides you to lie down on the bed. Jack kisses down your stomach before ghosting over your mound. He presses his face to your panties and mouths at the material. He moves lower to lick at your covered lips. His eyes lock with yours, “You taste good already baby, but I need more.”

Jack grabs the sides of your underwear and pulls the material down your thighs. He stands and throws his suit jacket across the room. He kneels between your spread thighs again. Jack licks a long stripe up your center. 

Much to your surprise, he moans loudly. 

“You taste so good, baby.” His tongue finds your entrance where he collects more of your juices on his tongue. You moan and roll your hips into Jack’s mouth. In response, he slurps on you even more. Jack pushes your legs up to your chest and locks eyes with you, “Hold your legs for me, baby.”

You oblige and Jack attaches his lips to your clit. You genuinely go cross-eyed at the feeling of his lip suctioning around your pearl. Two of Jack’s fingers slide inside you while he continues to lap at your clit. 

He knows you’re close by the way that your thighs are shaking. He gives you small kitten licks, “I know you’re close, sweetheart. Cum for me.” 

He goes back to slurping at you. Your back arches from the bed as your orgasm hits. Jack continues eating you out as you lie on the bed. Your tear-filled eyes meet his in disbelief. You watch as he collects your juices in his mouth before spitting back on your center and slurping it back up. 

Yep, you had officially won the lottery for freaky old men. 

You start whimpering at the overstimulation, and Jack moves his head back, but not before pressing a lingering kiss on your sensitive clit. His face is all shiny with your juices, and he looks far from done with you. 

Jack kisses up your body before connecting his mouth with yours. Your fingers go to his shirt, where you practically rip the buttons apart. Jack chuckles, “You need me that bad?”

You nod with a pout, “I need you so bad.”

Jack obliges and helps you to take his shirt off. Your mouth waters at the sight of Jack’s naked, freckled chest. You have the distinct craving to bite him. Your fingers go to Jack’s belt before he stops you. 

He looks almost boyish with how he stands there, “Before we go any further, I just have to tell you something. You were right about the army thing, but that’s not all. I have a prosthetic. It was a mission gone wrong—not that I want to get into all of the details, but I wanted to let you know before we go any further.”

He slides his pant leg up so that you can see the metal. He looks at you and waits for a reaction. 

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Jack. I hope you don’t think that makes you less attractive to me. Would it be easier if I ride you?”

Jack is genuinely left speechless by you. He laughs before nodding, “If that’s what you wanna do, then we can.”

You shake your head, “Yes, please, I’ve been thinking about riding you for weeks.” You move to start helping Jack with taking off his pants and underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock slapping against his stomach. You can already tell you’re going to be well satisfied tonight. Jack sits beside you, and you watch carefully as he removes the prosthetic. You mentally save the process for future use. Jack lies down at the top of your bed, while you straddle his thighs. 

“I didn’t bring anything with me,” Jack said.

“I’m okay with it if you are. I’m clean, and I have an IUD.” You explain. 

Jack is distracted by the way that you’re sliding your wetness across his cock. You moan lightly at the feel of his tip brushing against your clit. You lift and point the tip at your entrance. Jack lets out a deep breath when you lower yourself, but then you move back up. His panicked eyes meet yours, “You didn’t give me an answer. I need words, Daddy.” 

“I’m okay with it, baby. I need to feel you.” 

You and Jack both moan in unison as you slide down completely. Your walls clench around Jack to accommodate how big he is. You lean down to kiss Jack and moan against his lips. He lets out a groan of his own, “I know, baby. You feel so good.”

You move to sit up and start lifting yourself up and down on Jack’s cock. The more that you move, the wetter you get. Jack watches in amazement as you throw your head back and continue to move your hips along his. There’s nothing sexier in his life that he’s ever seen. What makes the moment even more erotic is the sight of the diamond necklace shifting along your neck. 

Jack reaches out to place his hand around your neck, “My pretty girl and her pretty diamonds. You like being my babydoll, huh? You like it when Daddy takes care of you and buys you pretty dresses and jewelry.” Your rhythm falters at the words as you start whimpering. 

Jack grasps your hips in his hands and starts thrusting into you from below. The growing knot tightens in your stomach, and you lean down, helpless against Jack’s thrusts. His hands find the sides of your face where he directs your eyes to his, “My poor baby, you like it when Daddy uses you like this? I’ll give you anything that you want in the world, Princess. I’m going to take such good care of you.”

It’s a combination of the words and his deep thrusts, but your release hits you like a freight train. Jack groans at the feeling of your warm walls clenching tightly around you. Without warning, he releases inside you. You shiver at the feeling of his warm cum spurting inside you. You don’t even realize that you’re shaking and crying until Jack runs a soothing hand down your back. 

His fingers gently swipe at your tears. 

“You okay, baby? Did I hurt you?” Jack asks, worry filling his tone. 

You shake your head and continue to sniffle against his chest. Jack doesn’t say anything; he continues to hold your body and whispers soft words of affirmation to you. Finally, you stop crying and snuggle closer to his chest. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jack shakes his head, “Babydoll, you don’t ever have to be sorry for crying around me. Now, do you wanna explain what’s wrong?”

“It wasn’t anything that you did. It’s just I’ve never had anyone to take care of me before. Not like you have. If I’m being honest, these past few months have been tough, especially doing it on my own, so you saying that you want to take care of me…I guess it just really hit me in that moment. I’ve always had to be the one taking care of everyone else.”

Jack nods. His expression softens as he looks at you, “I’m sorry that no one’s ever taken care of you, sweet girl, but I promise that I will. I meant it when I said that I wanted to take care of you. You don’t have to worry about any of that now that I’m here.” 

“Thank you, Jack.” You said, smiling at him. 

He connects his lips to yours, “You’re welcome, baby doll.” 

Suddenly, you start laughing, and Jack gives you another confused look, “What’s so funny?”

“I literally started crying and pouring my heart out to you while you’re still inside me. I mean, your cum is literally leaking out of me,” You said, giggling against his chest. 

Jack looks down and laughs, “We make quite the pair, don’t we, babydoll?”

You nod. For a few moments, you continue lying on Jack’s chest when your stomach growls. He smirks, “On that note, how about I order takeout for us? You have anything in mind?”

“Japanese?”

“Whatever you want, babydoll.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack frowned and glanced at his watch. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Richards.”

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

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

Oh, she had your jokes. 

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

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

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

“You sound like my husband.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, the root of the groveling then.” 

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

“It was actually quite funny.” 

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

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

Husband?

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

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

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

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

Jack sputtered. “My doctor?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack stared long enough for his assistant medic to notice. 

“Abbot? Are you okay?”

“No,” he managed to get out. 

“Oh.” 

“My girlfriend is apparently a detective.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You continued to stare, and Jack just kept going. 

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

Silence followed. 

“Did someone recruit you?” 

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

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

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

“Sir—” 

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

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

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

“Sir—” 

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

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

“What?” 

“Any numbness in your left arm?” 

“Excuse me?” 

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

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

“Oh.” 

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

“It’s happening again.” 

“What’s happening again?” 

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

“I am so sorry.” 

A very apologetic man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Jack breathed. “I’m so sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sammy frowned. “You met him too?” 

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

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

“Amen, brother.” 

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

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

_______________________

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

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

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

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

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

The list itself looked normal. 

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

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

*not pasta; the good pasta. 

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

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

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

What makes pasta good? 

That means the good one, Jack. 

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

You’ll know it when you see it! 

I probably won’t. 

I believe in you! <3 

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

Immediately, every other thought vanished. 

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

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

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

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

“You finally decide to start listening to me?” 

You stayed quiet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack nodded. “You should be.” 

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

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

Universe three; Jack Abbot zero. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shockingly, yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe?” 

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

“Over here!’ 

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

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

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

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

He nodded once. “Good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?” he asked with a smile. 

He got another nod. 

“The box just looks right.” 

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

_______________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, some of us do.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t enjoy them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Relax, doctor. I’m mostly joking.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On Satan’s head.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________________

Jack was done. 

D-O-N-E; done. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know here.” 

The hostess smiled and moved to let him pass. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Smart woman.” 

She was also right with that as well. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______________________

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

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

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

Jack Abbot was going to win this war. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Jack, what are you talking about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack stumbled forward. “What—” 

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

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

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

Mrs. Richards looked nice. 

Mrs. Bryant looked confused. 

Soon-to-be Mrs. Cody looked guarded. 

Mrs. Danforth looked bloodthirsty. 

Mrs. Reilly look endeared. 

But you? 

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

“Sweetheart—” 

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

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

You blinked slowly. “You met them?” 

“Sadly.” 

“You interacted with them.” 

“Extra sadly.” 

“How is the universe still standing?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He heard you softly gasp when he raised the ring. 

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

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

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

You were silent, but your head was nodding. 

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

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

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

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

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

Take that universe. 

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

You’re new to Pittsburgh, and unfamiliar with the notorious unreliability of the public transport system, causing you to be 45 minutes late and frantically running from the nearest bus stop into the emergency department.

This is your worst nightmare. You picture everyone looking at you as you walk in, silently judging. Hating the feeling of eyes on you. You’re definitely flushed red in the face, your bag being packed to the brim with items you certainly do not need weighing you down, cursing yourself for packing so heavy.

While running through the entrance of the ER, you’re barely looking where you’re going and end up colliding with a chest, solid and unmoving you almost mistake him for a wall. You stumble a little, losing your footing and almost fall backwards over your own feet.

Warm hands on your shoulder steady you, preventing the horrific embarrassment.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry– I didn’t even see you,” your voice is frantic and apologetic, worried you’ve already made an enemy and you hadn’t even started your shift. 

A deep, gravelly voice cuts through to you, grounding your panicked state.

“Hey, kid– easy, easy. You’re okay.” His voice is instantly calming. “You our new nurse?” he asks gently, while his hands slip to your arms, fully stabilising you. 

You settle down quickly, gathering yourself and finally looking up at him, nodding after a while realising he asked you a question. 

He’s incredibly attractive.

The first thing that you notice about him is how big he is. He’s taller than you and so broad, forming a literal wall between you and the ER in this moment, no wonder you crashed into him. He stands so close to you that you have to lift your head to look up at him as he towers over you with a gentle, concerned look. Butterflies twist in your stomach.

You swallow thickly, nerves returning as you realise you probably fucked this impression up by remaining silent and gawking at this man. 

Collecting yourself, “Uh– yes! That’s me–” you stumble over your words internally cringing, “I’m so sorry about being late, it won't happen again.”

He chuckles quietly, finding your flustered state incredibly cute, and extends a hand to you. 

You notice the size of his arms, his veins, his hands– oh, you’ve got to stop thinking like this. You’re so fucked. 

“Dr. Abbot, nice to meet ya, kid.” His voice is low and gravelly, stirring your stomach. “But don’t let it happen again.” His voice is firm, making your insides flip and guilt rises within you.

“No, no of course not. I promise. I’ll be 45 minutes early every day!” Your voice is laced with guilt and you avoid his eyes, whilst shaking his hand, feeling like you’ve already failed before starting.

“Jesus, kid, breathe.” He chuckles, mouth twitching in amusement. “You’re apologising like you hit me with your car.” He soothes, smirking a little at how easily his teasing had gotten to you. 

He watches your face fall in relief, and you let out a small, shy laugh. Still holding onto your hand a second longer, it's hard for him not to notice how incredibly soft your hands are in his, how untouched by cruelty, unlike his rough, calloused hands. Something protective stirs in Jack, confusing him, but a drive to keep you safe, keep you soft takes root in him. He needs to ensure this place doesn’t ruin you, doesn’t cause you to burn out like he's seen time-and-time again with nurses and doctors. 

“I’m really not usually this much of a disaster– well, most of the time.” You laugh shakily.

You notice his intense stare, like he’s studying you, makes you squirm under his gaze. Your eyes flick down where your hands are still joined, you notice the sheer size difference, how his hand completely engulfs yours. You go to pull away, when he brings a second hand to cup your hand, completely engulfing it, before he pulls away entirely. Your breath hitches, trying to stave off any completely inappropriate thoughts,

Dr. Abbot tilts his head towards central, signalling to meet him there once you’re settled.

“Oh– and, kid?” He drawls, eying your bag as you head towards the lockers.

“We do have supplies here, I promise.” he teases, but his voice is soft and amused, referring to your massively overpacked bag, watching heat flood your face and you nod, completely embarrassed. 

Jack watches you scuttle away, shaking his head and chuckling to himself, but his mind is elsewhere, how you were looking at him so shyly, your wide doe eyes ingrained in his mind. Imagining your eyes after kissing you, those eyes looking up at him when– Fuck. This is so unlike him.

Approaching central, he sees Lena and Shen talking in hushed voices. He chooses not to entertain their shenanigans, just crossing his arms and staring up at the patient board, but he catches Lena’s fierce stare in his periphery, alongside Shen’s smirk.

“Stay away from my nurses, Abbot. She’s clearly a good kid.” She scolds, her tone firm and motherly. He can feel her eyes shooting daggers at him. 

Jack doesn’t look away from the board, smirking a little.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice is low and equally amused, shaking his head gently. “Just being friendly.”

Shen scoffs, “Yeah? Friendly? You look like you wanted to eat her.”

Jack tenses a little going to defend himself before Lena’s sweet voice interrupts him. She walks past Jack making her way towards you where you had emerged from the lockers and placing a protective hand on your shoulder.

“There ya are, honey. I’m Lena, your charge nurse. C’mon, let us give ya a tour, get a lay of the land, yeah?”

During the tour, you notice Abbot seems to never stray too far from you. Always directly behind you, his hand hovering over the small of your back whenever the halls get crowded, ready to move you if needed.

Surely it's just friendly, you tell yourself.

You hope otherwise.

───────

True to your words, you’re never late again. 

Always early to every shift, settled down and working by the time Jack clocks in. But he notices since you’re starting to be early, you get closer and closer with Robby, and it wouldn’t bother him, if you’d at least show the same fondness for him.

Every shift, you avoid interacting with Dr. Abbot at all. You tell yourself it's necessary, you can’t let yourself fall for an attending, despite how flustered, frankly, just warm all over, he makes you feel. You love watching him work, his competency and confidence as he works allures you. Especially in trauma cases, when he barks orders to his residents, you imagine him telling you what to do, when to do it, how to do it, guiding you.

However, during a particular trauma, you were meant to be in the background, watching and learning. But you couldn’t stop watching Abbot’s hands work with such fine precision, the way they flex, the veins popping out. You get lost in your head staring at how big they are, how they’d feel cupping your face, your neck, inside you–

That’s when you decided, for your own well being, but most importantly your work, you couldn’t be around him.

From then on, if you needed anything, you went to anyone and everyone, to avoid speaking to Abbot. Even if he was right there, and asking if you needed anything, you’d go quiet, and your quiet, meek voice dismisses him, “Oh, uh, I’m okay, thank you.” Before you turn and scuttle off in the complete opposite direction, towards Shen.

It bugs him.

How you avoid him, how easily you laugh and joke with Robby, or how you always go to Shen for questions or help.

Jack watches right now, as you laugh freely with Robby, gazing up at him as if you’re hanging on to every word. Gazing at him like he hung the moon. He feels an ugly feeling crawling up his throat, and doesn't want to admit jealousy. He’s not jealous. He’s not. He simply wishes you'd talk to him, with those wide, round doe eyes, smiling shyly and getting you to fall apart with the simplest of words and touches. 

He’s so lost in his own head, he doesn’t notice Robby walking by ready to leave for the day.

“You got a good one there, brother, might steal her from the dark side if you’re not careful.” Robby jokes in passing, leaving Jack completely stunned. His eye twitches and his breath stops.

No.

His gaze flickers up to you across the ER, your sweet laugh cutting through the air.

You’re his.

───────

Admittedly, you’re making it very hard to make you his.

You’re almost too polite with him. A small, “good evening,” greeting when he comes in, a simple, “see you tomorrow, boss,” whenever you head out. You’re impossible to get time alone with.

Every time he catches you walking down the hall, jogging to catch up to you, asking you how your night is, you get all quiet. You don’t even look at him beyond a polite glance, your smile is tight and professional. Nodding before dipping into the closest room to get away.

He sighs, thinking you could be so focused on your work you may not want to entertain small talk. But he knows that’s not it, seeing how you laugh every time Shen or Ellis make jokes as you walk with them in the hallway.

So he tries to talk to you when you’re not as busy, just charting.

Jack’s leaning against the counter at central, pretending to be looking at the patient board, but his eyes keep drifting over to you, thinking of ways to get you to talk to him. 

He watches the way you pout while charting, your brows pulled tight in concentration, and has the sudden urge to smooth the crease between them with his thumb. He wants to gently scold you for mindlessly chewing at the tip of your pen whilst you work, to take his hand and brush the hair covering your face behind your ear–

His body takes him over to your desk before his mind catches up with him, a seemingly magnetic pull driving him to your side.

He slots himself beside you, a hand over the back of your chair, leaning down to look at your screen. 

“Oh– Dr. Abbot!” you startle, being caught off guard. 

Your mouth dries and your heart rate ticks like a rabbit, having him so close. His face is so close to yours, you don’t turn your head, you can’t. You can hear his breathing, can smell his cologne at this distance. Your mind reels.

He can smell you too. Caramel and vanilla.

The proximity alone has your stomach flipping, his hand behind you becoming an oddly domestic, claiming gesture. Placing a hand on your back, his voice is gentle, low when he speaks.

“This is good stuff, kid, keep it up.”

His praise sends a jolt down your spine and your face reddens instantly. He can feel you twitch under his hand.

You dip your head, hiding your red face and mumble a quick, breathless, “Uh– thank you, Dr. Abbot.”

He watches you fidget, uncomfortable from the praise. Laughing quietly, before removing his hand. 

You’re so shy. Shy with him. Oh.

But then you flee, almost running in the opposite direction, and his mind reels. Maybe he’s read this all wrong.

───────

He concludes after a few more nights of avoidance that maybe you just want nothing to do with him at all. 

He keeps his distance, returning your polite greetings, but he hates it. The night shift is supposed to flow, be light and less stressful. Jack's spent so long cultivating an environment where people feel free to laugh, ask questions, not be afraid of getting things wrong.

Now you’re here and he’s all confused. He wants you to enter the stream but it feels like wading against a river trying to figure out what to do differently for you.

He decides to just ask. He approaches you during your break one night.

You’re sat in the break room scrolling mindlessly whilst poking at your food. 

His quiet, tired voice cuts through. 

“S’alright if I join ya?”

You’d been too tired, too into your phone you hadn’t noticed him come in. Nodding fervently you allow him to sit opposite you, his tone of voice sounding different than it does most nights, almost resigned. You actually look at him properly, concerned.

“Listen, kid. I just wanna apologise if I’ve ever done anything to make ya uncomfortable, yeah?” His eyes meet yours, intense and serious.

You pause. 

Uncomfortable?

Fuck. 

You were avoiding him so much he thought you didn't like him, made you uncomfortable. Your eyes widen in panic, head shaking rapidly putting your phone and fork down immediately.

“No, god, no. You’ve never– that’s not it–” Stop rambling, you tell yourself.  Swallowing, taking a deep breath, you realise you need to get over yourself. “M’sorry for the way I’ve been acting. It's not you.” Your voice is quiet, avoiding his eyes.

He tilts his head down to try and meet yours again, concern on his face. His voice is so soft, when he says,

“You sure, kid? You can tell me–”

You shake your head again, cutting him off.

“You make me nervous.” You blurt out in one panicked breath. You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment and literally bring your head to the table, groaning. 

Abbot lets out a quiet chuckle, amused.

“Honey, hey, look at me.” He coaxes trying to get you to stop wallowing in embarrassment. “Please?” 

You lift your head slightly, hands covering your face, peeking at him through your fingers. He’s smiling, like this is funny to him, like you didn’t completely ruin everything–

“S’okay.” His expression softens, voice gentler now. “You never gotta be nervous around me, you hear me?”

Oh.

He misunderstood, thinking you mean nervous of his authority. You can work with that, you haven’t entirely humiliated yourself.

Your hands drop from your face, blush still evident on your cheeks and a shy smile creeps up. You nod in affirmation to his words letting out a deep breath.

“I want you to come to me as well, for anything. Not just Shen, Lena, or Robby. Me.” His inflection on Robby’s name confuses you and makes you giggle a little.

The sound awakens something within Jack, without thinking, he leans over placing a hand over  yours where it rests on the table.

“I mean it. Anything.”

───────

He notices how you don’t run from him anymore, don’t push him away, let him exist within your space. 

You’re still nervous most of the time, but you push it away, and he’s proud. He wants you to come out of your shell with him.

One evening, Lena calls you into North 7 for a debridement, knowing how much you love mindless, repetitive tasks. It unwinds your brain, picking out thousands of tiny pieces of gravel and debris from a patient's leg, letting you let go and not have to worry about doing something wrong.

You’re about halfway through, the only thing heard in the room is the slow hum of the patient's monitor, and Lena tidying up a cart nearby, when you hear the door open.

You frown, not enjoying having been disturbed and the loud, chaos sound of the ER filters through the door. You keep your attention laser focused onto the patient, until you hear his familiar, gentle voice, checking in.

“All good in here?” 

You hesitate, stopping your motions for the first time since you started, before lifting your head up and looking at Dr. Abbot, leaning against the doorframe. Your breath hitches as you make eye contact, his focus entirely on you, not the patient. His head is tilted, and his eye contact is intense, making you nervous.

Lena scoffs to herself. Checking in, my ass. 

“Mhm.” Your sweet voice hums in affirmation, the only thing you can manage to verbalise at the moment.

Lena pauses from tidying up the cart, turning raising an eyebrow at you, oh god not you too.

“Good. Can always count on ya to keep things moving smoothly, can’t I, sweetheart?” His voice is sweet, almost cooing.

You’re starstruck. Sweetheart. 

You blink, unable to respond, but he’s already leaving with a smug, self-assured smile like he accomplished his goal. You swallow, unable to stop the smile spreading on your face, ducking your head to hide your flushed, red face from Lena.

Walking down the hall, he recalls how much the praise got to you when he complimented your charting, and watching you now? 

The knowledge that praise gets to you so much?

Wrecks him. 

He feels a sense of power, knowing how much he can get you to fall apart from a few words.

───────

The closer he gets, the more he observes your interactions with everyone else. You’re just as shy and nervous with everyone too. A quiet little thing.

During shift change over one morning, a few night shift and day shift nurses and doctors are gathered gossiping about a particularly rowdy patient you had that night. 

You’re off to the side, included, but just about. He notices that's always the position you take, included just enough, but never in the centre, never leading, and never actively involved. He thinks maybe you just like to listen, observe, feeling more comfortable for you like that knowing how shy you are.

He frowns, because the rowdy patient they’re on about? You were the only nurse working with him. He wasn’t dangerous by any means, he was strapped to the bed. Jack would never let you in a room with a patient that’s a danger to your safety. 

But the group were already feeding the rumour mill, exaggerating the patients words and actions. He watches you from the corner of his eye where he’s leaning against the counter with a pen in hand, stopping his writing to watch. 

He wants you to speak up, correct them, and join in.

He watches your eyes dart around the group, you lick your lips, breathing becoming shallower. You’re assessing for the right time to jump in. You’re so nervous to speak up, his heart aches.

And when you try? You’re so quiet, no one even noticed. Immediately you were cut off.

He watches you blink, swallowing in embarrassment before collecting yourself as if you hadn’t even spoken, smiling along. 

His heart breaks.

You’re used to this, being spoken over always happens, you’re just too quiet sometimes, better at one-on-one interactions, not groups. Though you’re a little stung, you push it away, familiar with the feeling. Sighing, you slip into your coat before silently taking your leave. 

Just before you can head through the exit doors, he catches up with you.

“Hold up, kid.” You hear him jogging slowly behind you. 

You turn, smiling at him, he can see the tiredness and hurt in your eyes even if you’re trying to hide it.

“You leaving without saying goodbye?” he teases lightly, his expression incredibly soft.

You dip your head shyly, 

“Didn’t think anyone would notice.” You mumble, trying to laugh it off.

His brows scrunch, a displeased look on his face, almost offended.

“I notice.”

His words are so final, so real. You just stare at him with a vulnerable expression. His words heal something deep, knowing someone cares about your presence. You’re speechless.

He places a hand on your back guiding you outside, noticing your hesitance.

“C’mon. Let me walk ya to your bus stop, you can tell me about the rowdy patient, yeah?” 

You nod shyly, trying not to let your eyes well up from his care. It’s a short distance, the sky brightening as you both walk. He’s silent and attentive, actively listening to every word you tell him, like they’re the most important words ever.

When you reach the stop you turn to thank him, but before you can he speaks first.

“Hey. M’proud of ya, for speaking up in there.”

You give him a little confused look shaking your head. 

“It didn’t really feel like I did.” You laugh awkwardly, embarrassed to revisit the moment knowing he was watching.

“You did. I’ll always listen, whatever you wanna talk about, yeah?” Your chest tightens painfully at the sincerity in his voice. You can only nod, suddenly too affected to trust your own voice.

“G’night, sweetheart” He drapes an arm around your shoulder squeezing you before letting you board.

On the way home, your head mulls over his words, settling on one detail.

He’s proud.

───────

Being around Abbot so much recently is fucking with you, to say the least. 

His constant praise at your actions, you begin expecting and waiting for it. Every time he’s within your vicinity, you wait for his gentle but ragged voice ushering praise.

“Good catch, sweetheart.”

“Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”

“Jesus, you really make my life easier, y’know that?”

And he always delivers. 

Aside from the praise, he’s incredibly attentive and observant, knowing what you need exactly when you need it. Encouraging breaks any time he sees you get overwhelmed during the night, telling you to drink water, take a breather. 

But he’s also so patient with you, like no one's ever been. With him, you begin to unlearn your fear of being judged for saying the wrong thing, acting the wrong way, because he never judges. 

Tonight is no different.

You’re in central 7 with Dr. Ellis, with a very panicked, frantic mother and her daughter. Her child is only around 6 years old, clearly withdrawn and quiet. Her mother explains to Dr. Ellis how she’d been bathing her daughter that evening, when she found a large bruise on the daughter’s back and legs, suspecting her husband’s abusing her.

You immediately make eye contact with Ellis, silently signalling that you’ll call Kiara, the hospital social worker. But before you can step out to do so, a large, loud and drunk man barges through the door, angry. 

He’s unsteady on his feet, eyes directly narrowing onto his wife, before pushing past you and immediately going to yell at her.

“You bitch! You have NO right bringing our daughter here without my permission–” He yells spit flying out of his mouth, alcohol clearly on his breath

“Sir–” Ellis tries to calm him down, placing a hand on his shoulder which he shrugs off. 

“No!” He shrugs her off

“Your permission?” The mother yells back, cutting him off in disbelief. “You’re laying your fucking hands on my kid and you think I’m gonna let you be near her?” She’s defensive, shrill, adrenaline thrumming through her.

The yelling gets to you admittedly, you’re never good whenever patients of their families raise their voices. They carry on, Ellis begging for them to keep it civil or he will be removed by security

The door opens swiftly with Dr. Abbot and a night shift security guard filtering through to de-escalate. 

Drowning it all out, trying to not let it affect you, you turn your attention to the little girl on the bed, all hunched up scared of her parents yelling. You turn her towards you telling her to focus on you. You just try to distract her in any way possible, asking her questions about school, her friends, her hobbies. It works a little, her tiny voice whispering over her parents yells.

The father is finally removed, and the air to the room returns, silence taking over. 

“It’s alright, you’re okay.” You comfort the girl placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, testing it beforehand to see if she pulls away.

Jack turns to you then, really looking at you. The way you’re so gentle with the girl, how your focus was on her comfort during her parents screaming match. God, he admires you. But he also picks up on your tense shoulders, the way your breathing is unsettled, your face is tighter than normal.

You step back once the mother sits by the daughter’s side comforting her, you don't realise you walk back into Jack’s hand, which now rests on the small of your back. He leans closer to you dipping down to speak into your ear,

“Go take a breather, yeah?” His voice is soft, gentle.

You look up at him to convince him you’re fine, you don’t need a break. But the look in his eyes is stern, pleading: do not fight me on this. 

───

Jack finds you around 5 minutes later in the stairwell, you seem to just be sitting there lost in your own head.

He approaches slowly, groaning as he sits next to you on the stairs, your shoulders touching. He speaks first,

“You did really well there – with the girl.” He nudges your leg with his as he praises you, trying to cheer you up. You can tell he’s looking at you from the corner of your eye but you keep your eyes on your lap. Pedes cases always got to you.

“She shouldn’t have had to hear that.” Your voice is quiet, unsteady. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, but the tears build in your eyes anyways. You dip your head down further trying to hide.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice softens, his hand settling on your knee. “Talk to me?” His voice is begging.

You lift your head to look at him, drying your eyes. “It’s stupid, really.” You shake your head quickly, trying to laugh through it. “I just don’t handle yelling very well.”

“Yeah. I thought so, honey.” His thumb rubs back and forth over your knee, comforting you. “That’s not on you.” His voice is gentler now.

“I feel ridiculous.” You wipe quickly under your eyes. “I should be able to handle it better by now.” Insecurity laces your words at breaking down like this in front of an attending.

“No.” His response is immediate, firm but gentle. “Don’t start thinkin’ the answer is makin’ yourself colder.” He aches at the prospect of you removing the brightest parts of yourself, to dim your light to handle the harshness of the world. Absolutely not. He wants to shield you, be the barrier between people's cruelty and your soft, gentle heart.

Your shiny eyes meet his, vulnerability flashing through them. Without even thinking he brings his thumb to brush a stray tear from your cheek. He watches your eyes flutter close and your breath hitching at the gesture, his heart leaping.

“Take as much time as ya need. Come find me at the end of the day, I’ll take you home, yeah?” His voice grumbles, sending a jolt through you.

Your eyes open ready to protest, you can’t possible accept a ride from him, thats asking too much–

“Ah, ah, I’m not taking no for an answer.” He smirks before standing and heading back out to the ER.

───

Before your shift ended that same day, you had asked Lena to show you how to work the medicine cabinet as you’d had trouble returning a vial earlier in your shift.

The day shift starts to filter through whilst Lena is describing the steps to take, making you distracted.

You see Dr. Abbot in your periphery down the hall, talking to another nurse, one you had never seen before, most likely on the day shift.

She’s gorgeous.

She stands tall, confident and makes him laugh. Nothing like you. 

Your heart aches, as you stare unapologetically, completely drowning out Lena’s voice. You watch as he also dips his head to catch her eyes, how he touches her arm, how charming he is.

It feels like your heart gave out and fell into an endless pit. Eyes flickering away slowly, realising your hope that the way he treated you was special, is just his charm. His naturally flirtatious personality.

God you’re so stupid.

Lena sighs, shaking her head before closing the cabinet and turning to you, sensing your distraction and sadness.

“Hun, you don’t wanna go down that route.” Her voice is firm, but motherly. Like she’s truly trying to protect you, not wanting you to get hurt.

Your head snaps over to her wide eyed and panicked having been caught.

“Oh– no it’s not like that.” you laugh awkwardly, embarrassed but your excuse is weak and she sees through it instantly. Placing a hand on your back and directing you away from the hallway before you get in your head any longer.

“Trust me, hun. I’ve been around long enough to know, men like him don’t realise the effect they have on girls like you.”

Your brows furrow at her words, girls like me? You reach the lockers before she hits the final blow.

“You’re young, go on dates. Don’t pine over old men like him, you’ll only get hurt.”

She walks off, leaving you speechless. You gather your things, mulling over her words. Is she right? Have you been misreading everything, pining over a man who’s naturally charming and kind to everyone? 

You’d completely forgotten Dr. Abbots offer to take you home by the time you’re walking out of the doors. Your mind is only repeating her words and reevaluating all of Abbot’s actions towards you, trying to search for when you’d started to misinterpret things.

Jack frowns watching your hunched up form walking out of the ER from where he stands and talks to Ruby. He excuses himself from the conversation, trying to catch up with you before you leave, but you’re already down the street by the time he’s at the door.

───────

Just as he thought he was making progress, the rug is pulled from under him, and you’re colder than ever. 

You’re distant with everyone, clipped greetings and polite words the only things you mutter during your shifts. He watches how you avoid groups, but more importantly, how much harder you’ve been working.

You’ve doubled your workload, trying to forget your feelings by distracting yourself. Always with a patient, never sitting down and charting, avoiding your colleagues asking you what’s wrong. Or, avoiding where Dr. Abbot could find you and make you fall for him all over again. 

He notices how you’re no longer early to your shifts, just right on time, jumping straight into cases. Whenever he tries to coax you into slowing down and taking breaks, you brush him off, refusing to admit you need them. But he notices the bags under your eyes, you’re pushing yourself too much and he hates it, he can’t help and it’s hurting him.

But he also notices how late you stay. As you no longer chart during the day, you spend 3 to 4 hours overtime during the day shift charting. Robby allows it, sensing something going on with you but doesn’t want to overstep. Occasionally, you ask to work doubles, staying to around 1-3pm during the day shifts. It’s completely wrecking your body, but you don’t want to think about anything else except work.

One evening, during shift change before you got to work, Robby pulls Jack aside.

“Hey, brother, I gotta ask.” Robby glances over his shoulder towards the door, checking you hadn’t arrived yet, before lowering his voice. “Somethin’ going on with her lately?”

Jack’s brows furrow instantly, worry clenching at his heart. “Why?”

“She’s running herself into the ground, to put it mildly.” Robby sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s working through till the afternoon, then coming back to do it all again at night. Girl can’t be getting more than a couple hours of sleep.” His expression tightens. “M’worried about her.”

Jack goes still, his stomach dropping.

He noticed, of course he noticed. He just hadn’t realised how bad it’d gotten.

His jaw tightens, hand dragging tiredly across it as he sighs.

“Fuck.” The word leaves him quietly.

“I’ll talk to her.”

───

Later that night, Jack came to find you during a particularly quiet lull around 11pm. He assumes you’d be with a patient, checking with Lena before heading towards south 16. He’s rehearsing his speech to you, over and over.

When he approaches the room, his body stops. He hears you laugh. It’s beautiful, and he doesn’t realise how much it hurt him not hearing you laugh recently.

Rounding the corner he sees you through the glass stitching up a man’s forehead, and you’re blushing. You have that bashed, shy smile as you work, the type that was reserved for Jack. You're standing close to the man from where he sits on the edge of the bed, and he’s looking up at you with desire in his eyes, clearly flirting with you.  

He shouldn’t feel jealous, but he does, insecurity clawing at his heart. The man you’re stitching up, he’s definitely closer in age to you than Jack is. He hates the way that fact digs under his skin, the sudden awareness of the years between you two. You’re still soft, bright, and untouched by the world in ways he hasn’t been for too long. He can’t take his eyes off the easy smile you give the man, bitterness twisting low in his chest.

He knows he should leave, but he can’t bring himself to move. Which is why when you turn, putting down the sutures, you see him outside watching you, and your body stills. He watches your face fall, and it hurts him how you’re no longer happy to be around him.

Jack sighs ready to turn and leave, but you excuse yourself from your patient and head outside to catch him.

“Hey–” Your voice is gentle and cautious, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear nervously at Abbot’s expression. “Did you need something?” 

Jack’s jaw tightens as he hears your voice, trying to steady himself. This is the first time you’ve chosen to speak to him in ages, and he hates how relieved and conflicted he is right now. 

His eyes flicker behind you, to the man in the room sprawled out on the bed scrolling through his phone, and his chest tightens. Possessiveness and insecurity battle within his heart, and he doesn’t even think when he blurts out a cold comment to you.

“Didn’t realise we were entertainin’ patients now.” His voice is clipped, and he regrets it as soon as he says it.

He watches your face fall. Fuck. 

Your head shakes rapidly, apologetically. 

“I-I’m sorry–” Your voice is meek, he can’t bear that he caused this.

“Just don’t let it happen again.” Jack’s voice is firm, as he walks off. He needs to leave, clearly not in his right mind, he’s hurting you and he’s completely out of line.

───

The way he spoke to you eats him all night, distracting him. He’s completely unfocused during cases, Shen telling him to take a breather during a trauma, get his head right. How is he supposed to make sure you’re okay if he’s also driving you away.

He decides to start small. Around 1am he watches you exit a patient's room, pausing outside leaning against the wall. He can tell you’re exhausted by the way you hold yourself.

He slows as he approaches you, wanting to get you to slow down, take a break. Up close he can see the way your shoulders sag like the weight of the wall is the only thing keeping you together, your undereyes heavy with exhaustion. He can’t remember the last time you sat down.

“Hey– hold up.” His tone is softer, contrasting the way he spoke to you earlier. “You eaten yet?

Your eyes flick towards him briefly, before looking away again. 

“M’fine.” You’re short, a little dismissive.

Jack nods awkwardly, he knows he doesn’t deserve your kindness right now.

“It’s quiet, you should take your break–” He tries but you cut him off.

“I said I’m okay.” Though your tone has little real bite behind it, it’s still harsher than he’s ever heard it. 

He stills, letting out a deep sigh. The silence between you both hangs in the air thickly. You won’t look at him.

Jack nods, accepting his defeat watching you walk off. 

What he doesn’t see is the guilt flooding your face.

───

You need to apologise. He’s your attending and it was extremely unprofessional of you, a nurse, to speak to him that way. Guilt is clawing at your throat and you can’t get rid of it.

You decide that after you finish organising the supply room with Lena, you’ll find him. Explain yourself. 

You’re standing on a stepping stool as Lena passes you supplies to restock the shelves with.

“That guy– from earlier? He was a real hottie, hun.” She says while passing you a box of nitrile gloves. Your face scrunches in amusement as you let out a breathy laugh

“That guy who got his head smashed with a beer bottle? Yeah, right. Like I need that kind of trouble in my life right now.” You joke back with Lena about the flirty guy.

“C’mon, you’re young. Live a little! He’s insanely hot, god knows if I was 20 years younger I’d jump his bones–” you cut her off with a real, chesty laugh.

“Lena! You’re married!” You turn towards her with a wide smile. 

“I can appreciate beauty when I see it, hun.” She smirks before continuing. “What’s the harm? He’s still here isn’t he? Go get his number, go on dates, have mind blowing sex– just do something to get you outta this slump, y’hear me?” 

You sigh whilst organising the top shelf. You don’t want that guy. You want Abbot. 

What you didn’t realise was Jack was walking past and heard snippets of the conversation, well, particularly Lena’s grand speech about having mind-blowing sex with the man. He falters in his steps, realising who she’s talking to, who she’s talking about. The ugly, possessive feeling rears within him again. He peeks through the door, watching your face. You’re smiling, like you’re considering it. He can’t handle it. He storms off, childishly slamming the door of the next room he enters, blaming it on the draft.

You jolt at the sudden noise and frown before continuing. “I dunno, Lena.” Your voice is almost sad. “He’s not who I want.”

“You’re still hung up on him, aren’t you, honey?” Her voice is soft, pitying. She watches your sad smile when you nod in affirmation. “M’sorry, hun. It’ll pass, I promise.”

You don’t want it to pass. 

───

You can’t seem to find Abbot for the rest of the night, until a trauma comes in around 5:30am forcing you both into the room together.

The EMTs roll the patient in on a gurney as you jog over to Trauma 1, reading off his vitals. Fuck, it’s a kid.

“Pediatric MVC, eight-year-old male, unrestrained passenger. Vehicle rolled twice after being T-boned at a high speed. Drunk driver.” The EMT scoffs.

You begin to glove up as you walk alongside the stretcher, Jack on the other side, his eyes land on you as he actively listens to the EMT, his gaze feels as if he was assessing you. 

“Initial GCS was 10 on scene, refrained from intubation. BP 80/52, heart rate 145, satting 92 percent on non-rebreather.”

You watch Abbot nod, cutting through the patient's clothes as Ellis and Shen check current vitals and assess internal injuries. You end up stationed directly behind him, ready to hand him what he needs. But him in action is making you nervous, like he doesn’t want you here.

The EMT cuts in. “Father pronounced dead on scene, mother inbound, no obvious injuries.” 

“Decreased breath sounds on the left side, significant bruising across the abdomen and chest. Patient increasingly lethargic.” Abbot begins his assessment. But is being drowned out by an increasingly loud scream from the floor outside the room, his mother arriving. 

She rushes to the doors, doctors encourage her to wait outside but she barges in regardless. Her sobs and yells for the doctors to save her son cut through the room, loud and distracting. You take a deep breath at the sound trying to focus, remain unaffected by the scene, present.

Abbot’s jaw tightens as the room erupts around him. The mother’s wailing to his right, monitors beeping rapidly as the boy gets worse, the blood coating his gloves as he presses harder against the kid’s abdomen.

“Pressure’s dropping.”

“BP 78/40.”

“We’re losing him, Abbot.”

Fuck. Each sound and sensation cramming for dominance within his skull, overriding his focus.

And then he glances behind at you, where the station is set up ready for you to hand him things. But you’re spaced out, wide-eyed and pale, clearly overwhelmed by the sounds of the boy crying in pain and grief for his father, the mother’s wailing. Jack’s chest twitches violently. One thing at a time. Save the boy.

“Get her out!” He yells across the room, his voice loud and booming, a couple nurses urge for the mother to wait outside.

But he can’t focus with you standing there looking wrecked, your hands shaking. His focus should be on the boy, not you.

“Gauze.” He commands, a hand outstretched towards you.

Nothing.

The gauze finally hits his hand, a few seconds delayed.

His pulse spikes, the room suddenly feeling too loud. Your presence pressing against the back of his skull.

He snaps.

“I can’t afford hesitation right now.” Jack’s voice cuts sharply across the room, eyes snapping to yours. “If you can’t keep up, leave.” 

You feel like you’ve stopped breathing. The room goes painfully quiet, heat rushing to your face instantly at the humiliation.

Your chest feels like it’s caving, shame burning beneath your skin. You swallow hard, blinking rapidly, staving off tears.

You nod once, unable to trust your voice, before stripping off your gloves with trembling fingers backing away from the table.

Another nurse takes over flawlessly, the room continuing like normal around you. You exit the room, tears burning your eyes and threatening to fall.

Lena sees your shaken state from across the room, beginning to make her way over to you. But you duck, scuttling away to lock yourself in the toilet. Needing to break down in private.

You sink against the wall, sliding down until your head rests on your knees.

You know he’s right, you shouldn’t have hesitated. Your throat tightens.

The boy could’ve died because you froze. He still might. For what? Because Abbot didn’t want you near him anymore? Because the sounds of the boys’ mother screaming cracked something open inside of you?

Abbot’s words replay over and over in your head as self-punishment, as you sob into your hands.

  ───

Jack regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. 

He watches your face crumple in devastation and it almost knocks the breath from his lungs.

Your teary eyes flicker away, avoiding his fiery gaze. He hates that he’s the one who put those tears there, made you cry. He never wants to be the reason for your pain. 

He watches you nod, so meekly it hurts his heart, the tremble in your hands when you pull off your gloves. Every instinct in him screams to go after you. He can’t. He turns back to the table, continuing to work on the boy even more distracted than he was before.

───

You manage to gather yourself not long after, exiting the bathroom and ignoring Lena’s concerned looks, just searching for a simple case to get your mind off what happened. You can hear the chaos continuing in Trauma 1, still working on the boy.

Lena assigns you to a wound debridement, a simple task to recalibrate and gather your thoughts. 

You set up your tool table beside you, and you’re lucky your patient isn’t a chatty one. His arm rests on the bed, skin burnt red and white. 

You’re utterly exhausted, emotionally spent. Too in your own head to notice how cramped your fingers get around the scalpel.

You try to reposition your grip, but the blade unexpectedly slips from your grasp, falling and slicing a clean gash from your hand down your arm. Pain slices hot and immediate. 

“Shit–”

The scalpel clatters into the tray as blood begins to well. Your vision blurs for half a second, before you jerk back sharply, hissing from the sudden pain

“Oh shit you okay, lady?” You hear the patient ask, but you’re already halfway out the room, asking Matteo to finish your case before entering an empty room to sort yourself out.

“God fucking damn it, piece of shit–” You curse violently, voice breaking, trying to hold back tears yet again, whilst setting up the equipment you need to clean your cut.

Your heart beats violently, embarrassed at fucking up yet another thing. Abbot cannot know, he cannot have another thing to chew you out over.

You’re not that lucky.

“Hey, listen, I wanted to say that– what the fuck?” Jack’s voice is shocked when he glances down at your bleeding arm from where he stands at the door.

Your head whips around immediately, eyes wide and panicked but you don’t speak or move. Fear wraps around your heart knowing you’re going to get scolded for being distracted, getting yourself hurt, or creating unnecessary paperwork for the hospital.

The sight of your bleeding arm disturbs him. But what hurts more is the way you look at him, wrecked and terrified, like a child that just got caught for doing something wrong, more worried about his reaction than the fact you’re hurt. He shakes his head stepping inside fully making his way to you.

“Sit.” He commands, his voice tight, clipped.

Your breath hitches at his tone, interpreting it as annoyance for having to deal with this, but you do as he says, not wanting to make things worse.

“You don’t have to–” You attempt to say you’re fine, you don’t need help, it’s a small cut. But when you look into his eyes, you pause, there’s something softer behind them, concern. 

“Yeah. I do.” His voice is gentle and strained like it pains him you’re trying to hide your hurt.

You watch his face as he washes out your cut and stops the bleeding. You can’t read him. He avoids your eyes, focusing solely on your injury, you watch as he clenches his jaw and swallows.

He can’t look into your eyes again, the broken teary look you’re adorning right now would completely break him. He feels your pulse thrumming from where he holds your wrist, shaky breaths like you’re trying not to cry in front of him.

“This’ll sting–” He warns gently before bringing a cold disinfectant wipe to your cut. He cleans it so gently, so carefully, you realise how much you’ve missed him. His touch, his care, his smell.

You hiss slightly at the alcohol stinging, and he quickly retracts, gaze flicking to meet yours worried.

“I’ve got you.” He coos, rubbing a thumb back and forth against your hand, avoiding your injury. “You’re alright, sweetheart.”

His soft tone breaks the flood gate, tears flowing freely and you sob. Hard.

“M’so sorry.” Your voice breaks, blurting out apologies, as you try to catch your breath. “I’m sorry, please–”

His heart shatters at the sound, immediately setting the wipes down and cupping your face.

“Hey– No. No, honey. Don’t.” His warm hands ground you, wiping the tears as they fall. He can’t stand the sight of you falling apart in front of him.

You shake your head. “I keep fucking up–” you whisper brokenly, your expression apologetic.

“God, c’mere.” He coos bringing your head to his chest rubbing his hand on your back. “You got nothin’ to apologise for, y’hear me? 

His chest aches at your cries, knowing he led you to this, knowing he hurt such a sweet girl. His sweet girl. 

“I shoulda never yelled at ya, it weren’t right.” His voice vibrates through your body against him, sniffling into his chest. “You get that? You did nothing wrong, baby.”

Baby.

He pulls back cupping your face again, eyes intense and searching. Searching for something in your eyes that tells him you understand him, that you know you didn’t do anything wrong.

“Is he– is the kid–” You choke out, genuinely terrified that your slip-up had cost the kid his life, and had cost the mother losing both loves of her lives on the same night.

Jack shakes his head quickly, dismissing your worry. “He’s good, he’s stable. Dontcha worry about that. I let shit get to me, yeah? Not on you.”

You sniffle, breathing jagged as you settle down. The kid will be okay. Abbot isn’t mad at you. His hand lifts from your cheek to smooth down your hair on your forehead, tucking it backwards. Looking at you like you're precious. 

Unexpectedly, he brings his forehead to rest on yours, whispering:

“I never wanna make you feel like that.” His voice wavers slightly, but you notice. “Never again.”

You stop breathing at his proximity. Realisation crashing down at how stupid you’d been to avoid him all this time, to let insecurity overrun your thoughts. His lips are so close to yours.

“Jack–” You practically whimper his name. 

His breath hitches, searching your eyes before leaning in slowly. 

He presses a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, testing.

Instinctively, you turn your head towards his lips.

You both pause, staring at each other and breathing heavily. He watches as you dart your tongue out, licking your lips nervously, and he breaks.

He crashes his lips to yours.

It’s hungry, full of apology, and devotion. He brings a hand to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Electric sparks fly down your spine, your mind turning to mush. The emotional toll of the day mixing with the high of finally kissing Jack, you melt. 

He finally pulls away, after needing to catch his breath, not because he wants to stop kissing you. He’d kiss you for the rest of the night, if he could. 

He takes in your flushed state, catching your breath and looking at him with so much trust. Your red cheeks, dazed and glossy eyes, and plump red lips and he lets a sound akin to a growl out. The look wrecks him. 

He shakes his head, pressing a short, quick kiss to your hair before physically stepping back before going too far with you. 

“I didn’t– I convinced myself you didn’t want me like that.” Your whisper breaks the silence. “I couldn’t be around you, it hurt too much.” 

Oh. 

He swallows the lump in his throat before nodding. He understands. Why you avoided him all this time, you must have been going crazy. Hell, you’d affected him so much tonight he snapped. He can’t imagine what living like that for so long would do to you.

“You don’t gotta explain, sweetheart.” He brings the chair to sit in front of you on the bed, and he takes your hands in his, bringing a small kiss to your knuckles. “But you scared me, doll. You gotta take care of yourself.” 

Your gaze flickers downwards a little embarrassed, nodding

He turns your injured hand over in his, nodding his head towards it before gently asking.

“How’d this happen?” He refocuses on cleaning and assessing if it’s deep enough for a bandage or stitches. 

“Wasn’t–” You pause, recalling how he scolded you last time for being distracted, shaking off your fear, you continue. “Wasn’t paying attention, cutting off patients' dead skin. Hand cramped n’ tried to fix it, blade slipped.”

He takes in a deep breath hearing your shaky explanation. 

“Why didn’t ya tell someone, hmm?” He speaks softly, his attention focused on placing small little butterfly bandages along the cut.

You shrug. “Wasn’t thinking straight. Was overwhelmed, on the verge of crying again. Just needed to be alone.” 

Crying, again. He hates the recollection that he made you cry that night. That after you had left the trauma room, you’d broken down alone.

He places the last bandage on, setting down the equipment and turning to you once more, placing a hand on your thigh.

“You always come to me when you’re hurting, yeah? I hate that I didn’t know, baby. Hate you were hurt and you tried to deal with this alone.” He begs, squeezing your thigh. 

He sighs in relief as he sees your small nod. “Good.” 

He places a small, gentle kiss over your cut. “There we go, all fixed up, my sweet girl.” 

You flush red, a shy smile taking over your face before you can stop it, letting out a small laugh of disbelief.

“There she is.” He coos at your smile.

───────

After a few months of dating, Jack took a sabbatical, and asked you to go with him.

It was his way of an apology, for snapping at his sweet girl, taking you away from the place that you’d been running yourself into the ground for.

He didn’t tell you much, just to pack your cutest dresses. You obeyed mindlessly, trusting him completely. Truthfully, he couldn’t get enough of seeing you in sundresses after one particular picnic date where he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, or hands. Needless to say, the date ended early, with Jack driving you back to his place to tear off the sundress.

You’re leaning against Jack in his truck as he drives through the country. He had specifically chosen to bring this truck due to its bench seats, needing a hand on you at all times. 

The warm breeze filters through the truck windows, and you hum gently along to the faint country rock playing through the truck radio, Jack tapping his fingers against the wheel along with the beat. 

Everything felt perfect, domestic, calm.

Until you get deeper into country backroads. 

You frown the first time you drive by a small animal on the side of the road, clearly roadkill. It disturbs something in your stomach, seeing the bloody mangled animal alone. You try to push it down, focus on Jack, the trip.

Until you seem to keep passing more animals. 

Deer.

Squirrels.

Rabbits.

Foxes.

Every animal seems to twist your heart more and more, saddening you so deeply, wishing you could protect the babies that died alone. 

Jack, observant as he is, feels you go quiet against his shoulder. No longer humming or drumming your feet with the music, just looking straight ahead into the dashboard, stiff. Something had set his girl off. He brings his hand that rested on the gear stick onto your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze, checking in on you. 

His hand is warm where it rests on your thigh, grounding, as he coos, “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He glances over briefly before looking back at the road. “What’s got my pretty girl all quiet, hmm?” he says, softly.

Your stomach flips, of course he notices. He’s so in tune with your tells by now, you couldn’t even hide it if you tried. You whine a little embarrassed, turning to hide your face into his side. 

His heart aches at the small, sweet noise you make and his grip tightens protectively on your thigh. Sensing your shyness, his thumb starts rubbing back and forth on your leg. 

“Don’t hide from me, my sweet girl,” his voice is gentle and sweet, the tone he uses when he knows something is bothering you. Gentle fingers tip your chin upwards to meet his eyes momentarily, your stomach twisting as he brushes the hair behind your ear, a silent plea: tell me.

Hesitating, feeling shy and not wanting to ruin the trip you tell him, “It’s nothing, really, It’s the animals–”, your breath hitches as Jack drives by another dead deer on the side of the road. Your voice breaks before continuing, “It hurts”, you whisper sadly whilst immediately ducking your head to not look out the window for too long, the scene disturbing you.

Oh. Realisation floods Jack’s face and his heart clenches, oh, his sweet, sensitive baby. 

You hear Jack breathe out a small sigh, before dipping his head and placing a small gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah? That’s what’s gotten my girl all upset?” his voice soothing and rubs his hand up and down your thigh in comfort. Your stomach twists at his sigh, unsure if he’s silently judging.

“They might have had family or friends waiting for them!’’ your voice is whiny, desperate for him to understand as deeply as you do why you’re upset. You sniffle a little, trying not to let tears fall. 

Jack blinks, trying not to laugh at his sensitive girl, knowing it’ll upset you more. He doesn’t mean to find it amusing, but your true devastation over deer and squirrels having family and friends, he can’t help but let out a low chuckle.

“You’re right baby, m’sure they’re sat around the dinner table, waiting for ‘im to come home.” He teases gently a smirk playing at his lips. 

“Jaaaaack! It’s not funny,” you pout petulantly, hurt. You shift away from his side, scooting over to the other side of the truck, feeling dismissed. 

Jack shushes you quickly, grabbing you by your shoulders before you move away, hating the way you curl in on yourself so easily. He pulls you back into his side, coaxing an apology. 

“M’sorry, baby, c’mere.” He’s still smirking a little, but knowing he may have teased too much in your sensitive state, he needs to calm you down.

You feel him pepper quick kisses to your forehead, whilst rubbing the back of your neck gently. Your body relaxes instantly at the touch. 

You sniffle a little calming down, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Shh, baby, I know, I know.” He says, his voice softer now, before continuing. “I was so mean for teasing my delicate girl, yeah?” His inflection rises at the end of his question, like he was comforting a small kitten.

Sniffling, you nod at his comfort. “You know I love how my sweet baby feels everything deeply.” he croons, and you feel him run his fingers at the nape of your neck into your hair, petting you.

“You just keep your eyes on me, yeah? Focus on me for the rest of the trip.” He commands gently, shielding you away from the hurt of the world.

The low music continues to hum in the car, yours and Jack’s breathing matching as you sit quietly soaking the evening breeze.

Gravel crunches as you pull up to the cabin, you notice he doesn’t make a move to exit the truck yet. You frown, worried, is something wrong? Before you can even ask him, Jack breaks the silence, with such a soft tone it's unexpected.

“S’why you’re my favourite nurse, baby”. You falter, his words stirring something in your stomach, his praise making you shy. You feel him draping his arm around your waist and tugging you into his lap, straddling him.

Unable to avoid his intense eye contact, you duck your head shyly, quietly asking, “What is?”

For the life of you, you can’t figure out what he means. He ducks his head following yours to look into your eyes, cupping your face.

His voice is low, serious, when he speaks. “Your sensitivity, compassion, empathy.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, uneasy by the intensity of his praise. Tucking your head into his neck to hide your shyness, you quip– “It’s not the sex?”

You hear him chuckle, the vibration running through your body.

“You were my favourite before the sex smartass– no, you have a big heart, biggest I’ve ever known, you care deeply.” You feel him guide your head out of his neck, needing to see your face, his thumbs brush against your cheeks as he watches your wide, doe eyes trying to accept the praise.

“Plenty of other nurses and doctors are empathetic.” You begin shyly, trying to brush the compliment off, uneasy by how seen he was making you feel. Always having been told your sensitivity is a curse, especially in this field, and it’ll wear you down. 

Jack immediately interjects, not enjoying how quick you are to self deprecate, diminish yourself.

“Not like you, baby.” His voice is stern, as are his hands gripping your face. Desperate for you to see yourself the way he does. 

Those three simple words cut deep, your eyes watering from so much care. He wipes the tears before they fall and watches a shy smile tugging at your lips, hitting him like a punch to the chest. 

“You hear me, baby? Hmm?” he coos gently while pressing a kiss against your temple. You nod in his hold, cheeks flushed from receiving so much affection, never having been treated so carefully before.

“You’re m’favourite attending.” You mumble shyly fidgeting with your hands in your lap.

Jack laughs deeply, he knows, of course he knows. He just hadn’t expected that to be what you said. He finds your tone so cute, like you're too shy to admit it.

“Oh yeah? S’not Robby?” He teases, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, laughing again at your scrunched up face, like the idea is ridiculous to you.

“I know, sweetheart.” He calms you, presses a final, soft kiss to your temple and brings you closer to his embrace.

Outside, the sun sets as crickets chirp around you, the air gets cooler but neither of you rushes to leave the car yet, this moment meaning something so deep to the both of you.

─

Jack is setting down the last of the bags in the bedroom when he hears you yelp from the bathroom. Before he can even ask if you’re okay, you call out for him, your voice startled and afraid.

“Jack!”

His heart jumps, and his mind immediately rushes to the worst idea, that you’re hurt somehow. 

Jack runs to the bathroom panicked, “Baby, what’s–” he calls out in fear, until he enters the room, and pauses, blinking. 

You’re crouching on the toilet seat like the floor is lava, with one shoe off, in your hand, looking around the floor terrified. You meet his eyes, genuine fear behind them,

“I swear, it's taunting me! It looked me right in the eyes!” you whisper urgently pointing at the small bug in the corner of the room.

Jack laughs for real this time, tilting his head affectionately, “baby, what are you doing?”

You screech as you watch the tiny dark bug scuttle along the bathroom floor and chuck your shoe at it, completely missing it.

“Please– kill it, quick!” you beg him 

He smirks at you from where he leans against the bathroom door frame, crossing his arms, and taunts you, “What if his family is waiting for him to come home, hmm?”

You groan as Jack points out your hypocrisy, squealing again as you watch it come towards you. “Jack, I swear to god–”

He hangs his head in, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face before he walks over and stomps on it. He picks you up into his arms and mumbles into your hair.

“Yeah, you’re not lasting ten minutes out here, sweetheart.”

Langdon had always been kind to you. Despite his prickly exterior, he was a sweetheart. And maybe you'd have a crush on him since you were called down to the ED on your first week in PTMC...

"We need to call Psych down here!" Langdon says with a sigh.

He truly just wants to get this patient treated and streeted, but that isn't going to happen. He's going to have to wait around all day for a consult and Robby is probably gonna be on his ass. He's been on him ever since he came back a couple of months ago. Frank loves the Pitt, he loves working in the Emergency Room, he wants to specialise in Emergency Medicine. But recently, Robby's attitude had him browsing other options late at night.

He could go into a private hospital? Pick one of the many other EDs across the city. But God, he had worked so hard to be here and he's not ready to lose it.

He gives Al-Hashimi a rundown of his case. An agitated young man who appears to be experiencing an extreme bipolar episode. But he needs to wait on Psych. Al-Hashimi smiles at him, placing a soft hand on his bicep to reassure him before heading off across the ED.

Langdon spends the next three-quarters of an hour checking in with patients and charting. It is a surprisingly slow day. Slow enough, his head pops up when he hears the elevator open.

"Whose that?" he asks Dana as he watches you walk through the harsh lights of the Pitt.

"Think she's a new psych doctor," is all the charge nurse responds, examining the iPad in front of her.

She finally looks up at Langdon, "Close your mouth, you're catching flies, kid!"

She smiles to herself, knowing why he's gone all moon-eyed. Dana is always in Langdon's corner, that's her boy! And if he wants to get back on the horse now the ink on his divorce papers has dried, why not? She never much cared for Abby anyway!

"Dr Langdon?" you say with a huge smile.

You push your hand out and introduce yourself.

"From psych," you rush to add.

Langdon's hand grips yours, and you can feel your cheeks turn red. You've heard other women in your department gush about Frank Langdon, the prince of the ER, but you've never seen him before. And the gossip doesn't do him justice. His grip is just the right amount of firm.

"You're new," he says, still holding onto your hand.

"Oh yea! New intern, I've been here for a month. But this is the first time I've been called down here. I mean, it is my turn to do the call downs so..." you trail off. "You don't care!"

Langdon chuckles and finally lets go of your hand.

"Oh, I do, don't worry. Will I fill you in on our patient?" he suggests, walking you over to his room.

You blush, ducking your head. Thank God you chose one of your cuter blouses today. Unlike most of the other departments, psych usually wore their own clothes. You had to be professional, of course, but you hoped Langdon was impressed with your choice.

The patient consultation actually goes well. You're relieved, it's your first time in the Emergency Department and you didn't know how emergency this case would be.

"We're gonna get you moved up to a bed upstairs, Mr Hathaway," you promise, patting the man's arm for good measure.

He's certainly much calmer than Langdon had warned you of. So you don't think as you leave your hand on his arm before turning to look out the door. It's a rookie error because Mr Hathaway has grabbed your arm and is yelling profanities now.

Langdon had stepped out to chart. But as soon as he hears the yelling from the room he just left the pretty new psych doc in, he runs. He untangles you from the patient as Perlah and Ahmad come in. A quick sedative calms him down, but you're a bit shaken. And rightfully so.

"You good?" Langdon asks you.

"Um, uh, yea! Yea, sorry I...I looked away for a second. He seemed fine. But I just...It was my fault," you grumble, pressing the palm of your hand to your forehead.

"Hey, why don't I make you a tea to settle your nerves?" he suggests.

"I should head back upstairs," you argue.

Langdon gives you a boyish smile and shakes his head, "Doctor's orders. C'mon."

You smile then and let him lead you to the breakroom.

"Who's that?" Robby asks Dana, watching his former protege and a smaller woman walk through the ED.

"New psych doctor. Think there was an altercation with the patient," she responds with a sigh which makes Robby rub his hands over his face.

"Great. Well, he can write that up!" he grumbles as he walks away.

Langdon hands you a cup of tea as you settle in the breakroom. You really should get back upstairs, but you want to be around him for a bit longer! And who could blame you?

"So you from Pittsburgh?" he asks as he makes himself a coffee.

"Me? No!" you confess. "But PTMC is such a good hospital, I'm really happy this was my match. You're not from Pittsburgh, not with that accent."

Langdon ducks his head, a few strands of his hair falling in front of his eyes.

"No I'm-" he begins before the door flies open and Dana is alerting him to an incoming trauma.

He nods before looking back at you.

"Maybe we can continue this another time?" he suggests before rushing out.

You don't really thinking much of his suggestion. He was just being nice. So you're surprised when you meet Frank Langdon walking towards the nurses' station on the psych ward. He's changed out of his scrubs and fuck he looks even better now. How is that possible?

"Dr Langdon!" you say, jumping up from your station. "Is everything okay? Is something wrong in the ED?"

He shakes his head, "Um, no. I just clocked out. But I did mean what I said earlier about continuing our conversation. Do you wanna grab a drink after work?"

You can feel your cheeks turn pink but you nod immediately.

"Yes! Yes! Of course. I just need to finish this patient's chart, but give me like 10? I can meet you in the parking lot?" you suggest.

And since that night, Frank Langdon has been your best friend. And has no idea that you are desperate for more.

Well, maybe not as clueless as you think when he asks you to watch a Penguins game...again. It's your tradition at this point. He jokes that you're their good luck charm.

"Sure, I can bring that weird soda you like," you tell him as you walk towards the elevator after the consult.

"Oh, um, no. Actually, I have tickets," he tells you.

"To the game? To watch it in person?" you ask, cocking your head to the side. And he just nods. "Frank! That must have cost a fortune. Lemme send you money for-"

He cuts you off, "My treat. You're their good luck charm, after all."

That's how you find yourself fixing your hair in the mirror for the millionth time before you hear a knock at your door. Is he early? You check your phone. Nope, you've just spent way too much time stressing over your appearance.

It's not as if Frank Langdon hasn't seen you day after day stressed in work. But this is different. This is a date. Neither of you says it. But it is. He drives to the rink and the chatter is easy, light. But there's a tension in the air that wasn't there before. Something has shifted.

You're glad that you get to spend the evening focusing on the ice rather than on the man beside you. The Penguins are playing like shit.

"So much for me being a lucky charm," you tease him as the third period begins.

He just gives you an easy smirk and nudges your hip with his.

"Don't count yourself out," he tells you as he watches the puck drop.

And you watch as they hit goal after goal into the net until their neck and neck. You're gripping Langdon's arm as the clock is counting down, there are only seconds left and suddenly the puck is in the crease, suddenly there is a cheer from the crowd and you realise that they've just scored the winning goal.

You don't know how you've gone from watching Sidney Crosby skate around that ice to looking up at Frank Langdon's beautiful blue eyes. You certainly don't know how your lips are pressed against his. One hand is tangled in your hair, the other is pressed into your lower back. And you don't want to stop kissing him. But you have to, because you can't breathe.

The kiss has changed the way Langdon is looking at you. Any plans for going to a bar have gone out the window now. He's the dragging you back to his car, one thing in both of your minds. You've been unknowingly dancing around this inevitability for months. Once you get into the car, you can't help but pull him in for another kiss. This one is even better. (You're gonna be stuck in traffic anyway, you might as well enjoy yourself a bit.) His hands roam your body, as much as they can when you're still in semi-public.

It feels like eons before you are on the highway back to Langdon's apartment. You're a giggling mess as he presses you up against the wall in the elevator, his tongue greedily exploring your mouth. You can feel the bulge in his jeans as his thick body cages you in.

If you weren't certain about how you ended up kissing him in the stadium, you have no clue how you get into his apartment. But you're making out on his bed now. Your denim jacket discarded in the hallway, his Carhartt jacket long gone now. His hands snake up your jersey, splaying over your stomach as if he worried to touch anywhere else.

"We don't gotta do anything else," you whisper as you pull away to get some air. "I haven't made out in so long."

Langdon pauses for a second and shakes his head.

"Oh, baby, I really wanna do more," he growls, nipping at your collarbone. "I just...well I haven't since..."

Since his divorce.

"I haven't in a long time either," you promise as he pull his jersey off his head. Your hands trail over his chest and down his stomach. "But I really wanna with you."

He grins and takes that as all the permission he needs to pull your jeans off and kissing up your thighs.

"Fuck, I've been dreaming about this for so long," he groans against your still clothed pussy. "Way too long."

You just whimper under him. Fuck...he hasn't even touched you, not properly and you're already a mess. All the evidence of how turned on you are is on display as he pulls your panties down your legs.

"Fuck, baby, you're soaked," he growls before press a kiss to your mound. "Can I taste?"

Your brain has officially turned off and all you can do is nod your head. That's all Langdon needs before he lips trail down to your pussy. He peppers you with kisses, not quite touching the spots that you need, not quite getting the friction you crave. His eyes flick up to yours as you let out an annoyed little noise.

Finally, his tongue presses against your folds and you gasp out in pleasure. And Langdon is nothing if not diligent. He focuses on your clit, making obscene noises as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he pulls an orgasm from you.

"Oh fuck, Frank!" you scream as you cum, and when he pulls away, you know it's not the last time you'll be doing that tonight.

You pounce on him, hands going to undo his pants and push his boxers off. You need him. You're so desperate for him, you don't care. He catches your lips once again in a deep kiss. You groan at the taste of yourself. He only pulls away to take your jersey off and then unclips your bra in record time.

You gasp out as his lips immediately find your nipple. You thought he'd want to fuck you now. But he's taking his time with you. He presses you back down on the bed, his lips never leaving your tits. His hand slids between your legs, pressing two fingers easily inside you. Your head falls back against his pillows as you moan out his name over and over, with each thrust of his fingers. He's playing with you and you don't object. Your back arches off the bed as his thumb brushes over your clit. His fingers moving in and out of you in time with his mouth on your tits. You gasp out as a second orgasm washes over you.

Then and only then does Frank seem satisified with the fucked out state you're in to start pumping his thick cock. It's leaking with pre-cum and you reach out to touch him. But he swats your hand away.

"'S'okay, baby," he breathes as he positions himself over you.

He sinks into you with one slow thrust and you cry out in pure pleasure. Despite working you over for the better part of an hour, there is still a slight burn when he presses into you. Your legs immediately hook around his back. He grips your thigh; his other hand is pressed into the mattress next to your head.

He lets out soft grunts as he moves in and out of you with long thrusts. And you feel like you're seeing stars...it might be because you've been so overstimulated by him. But maybe it's because you're right where you're meant to be. Your moans match his, and the room is filled with the sound of pleasure.

"Baby, 'm not gonna last," he breathes, his hair, that damn hair, falling into his eyes.

You nod your head, feeling your third orgasm of the night starting to build. His thrusts grow faster, sloppier and just the idea of him cumming because of you, have you cumming first.

"Fuck!" he hisses as he follows you over the edge.

He collapses against you, both of you trying to catch your breath and rearrange your thoughts. Finally, he pulls out of you and unsteadily leaves to get a wet cloth to clean you up. You don't speak, letting him clean you in silence. You let him climb into bed beside you and you both fall asleep within seconds.

"And then he told you that he wanted to try to work things out with his ex-wife?" your friend asks at the bar.

You groan and nod your head.

Yes, when you woke up the next morning after sleeping with Dr Frank Langdon, he was nowhere to be found. You finally find him sitting on the balcony.

"Abby text," he tells you.

You cock your head to the side. You're wearing one of his shirts and nothing else as he tells you that she feels like they should try to reconcile for their kids' sakes.

"Penny is so small," he says...as if that makes everything okay.

You look at your friend as you realise your glass is empty. Fuck, you need to fix that.

"It's not fair that he literally gave me the best orgasms of my life and then told me that he wanted to get back with Abby!" you cry out.

You have no idea that another one of your co-workers, Jack Abbot, is in the corner of the bar.

Jack usually works nights. You've run into him a few times and he's always been so kind to you. After Langdon he has definitely been your favourite ED doctor to deal with. Well, now Langdon isn't an option to work with. You've been sending your colleagues down when you know he's on shift. You refuse to bump into him.

Hell, you can't even watch a Penguins game anymore. Asshole ruined that too!

You also have no idea that Jack has been harbouring some wicked fantasies about the new psyche doctor. He hasn't even mentioned it to his therapist, it's too twisted. But fuck, he wonders what you'd sound like crying out his name instead of Langdon's.

Jack had never been jealous of the younger man, not until he noticed how close you two were. How you would, more often than not, leave together. How you would sometimes come in together. No one ever said that you and Langdon were an item, but Jack presumed. He just guessed you didn't want to bother with HR bullshit. But hearing you share (with the entire bar) that Langdon had fucked up, he couldn't help the smirk that covered his face.

"Dr Abbot!" you greet as he practically meets you at the elevator doors. He's called you down for a consult. "You're eager!"

You laugh at the last statement, but Jack isn't laughing. He looks like a man possessed.

"Sorry, it's actually an issue up the eighth floor," he tells you as he ushers you back into the elevator.

"Oh?" you say in confusion. "Should we call for some help?"

Jack gives you a half smirk and shakes his head, "Nah, kid. Just me and you should do."

"How was your weekend?" you ask him, making the same boring small talk you usually do.

"Oh great. I was out at that new bar a few blocks over," he tells you, meeting your eyes.

You don't know why his gaze makes you blush, but it does. And you duck your face to break eye contact.

"I heard some interesting gossip, actually," he says as the elevator doors open and he leads you down the hallway. "I overheard a young doctor say that one of the ED doctors had given her the best orgasms of her life."

You stop dead in your tracks. You realise, firstly, he's brought you to the abandoned wing of the hospital and, secondly, he overheard you in the bar...talking about Langdon.

"Dr Abbot, I really apologise you heard that. I had no idea you were there but also I just-"

He cuts you off with a hard kiss. You gasp against his lips. You certainly weren't expecting this. But your back is suddenly against the wall and Jack Abbot's tongue is pressing into your mouth. His hands drag up from your hips straight to your breasts. He gives them a squeeze before he rips your blouse open. Buttons scatter over the tiles.

"Whoops," he says before tugging your bra down and leaving hickey after hickey on your tits.

He bites and nips at your nipples. Where Langdon is sweet, Abbot is rough. He takes. He manages to manoeuvre you from the wall in the hallway into one of the abandoned rooms. There is a bed, but that doesn't seem to interest Jack too much. He kisses you hard again, nipping at your bottom lip. You moan out trying to pull him closer, but his rough hands are on your hips and he pushes you down on the bed. You've never been so happy that you wore a skirt that day. Your shoes fall off your feet as he pushes your skirt up around your waist and all put rips your panties off you.

"So wet for me, babygirl," he growls as he kneels in front of you.

He grabs your thighs and drags you down the bed, until your ass is hanging off the edge. You gasp as he dives into your folds and eats you out like a man starved. The noises he's making are sinful and the hand that isn't supporting your weight snakes up your body to pluck at your nipple. It doesn't take long before you're cumming, screaming his name. Your voice echoes around the halls but you can't seem to care. It's all too good.

He gives you a cocky smirk as he stands. He grips your hips once more and flips you onto your stomach. Your feet find the floor just in time to hear the rustle of his scrub bottoms. He's pressing into you without warning and you gasp out in pure pleasure.

His hand goes to your hair to pull your face up from the mattress.

"Wanna hear you, babygirl," he growls as he starts fucking you with piston-like speed.

Your hands grapple with the sheets as he fucks you hard and fast. You're not sure you'll be able to walk afterwards.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Jack! My pussy!" you gasp out, as your brain begins to short-circuit.

"Who's pussy?" he growls, slamming into you. "Who owns this pussy?"

"Fuck!" you scream. "You. You own my pussy."

"Good girl. That pussy belongs to me. You belong to me. And now that little pussy is gonna cum on my cock," he growls in your eye.

And you can't deny him. Your go cross-eyed as your orgasm crashes into you. Your vision goes white at the intensity of it. It's so good, you barely feel Abbot fill you up. He releases rope after rope of cum inside you.

"Now who's given you the best orgasm of your life?" he growls in your ear before pulling out of you.

You take a second to gather yourself.

"I can't go back down like this," you remind him.

He's ripped your blouse. He gives you a cocky grin (and he deserves it) before he pulls his scrub top off and hands it to you. You take off your blouse and put it on. It smells like him and it goes straight to your core. Fuck you need to control yourself.

"Where are my panties?" you ask as you look around the room.

Jack tuts and shakes his head, "They belong to me, babygirl."

He pulls you up for another kiss.

"Langdon's a fuckin' idiot to let you slip through his fingers," he breathes, gripping your ass in his rough hand.

You wonder about a round two, but you both know you need to get back downstairs. You need to get a proper pair of scrubs now and you need to make up a good excuse.

"So was this a one time thing?" you ask as you ride the elevator with Abbot.

He cocks his head to you and smirks, "Oh not a chance. I meant it when I said you belong to me."

The elevator doors open and Frank Langdon is standing in front of you. You jump away from Abbot, who has gotten a lot closer than you remember. Despite trying to look presentable, you look thoroughly fucked. And there's no hiding, especially from Langdon, what has just happened.

You scurry out of the elevator towards a fake patient. Jack just sizes up Frank.

"Hope Abby's well," he says as he claps him on the shoulder and follows after you.

part two

a/n: thanks for reading! sorry for disappearing for a while! I hope you enjoyed!

♡summary: you've been best friends with trinity since you were in middle school, two peas in a pod. while she went into med school, you started a very successful band. when you come home from your 18 month world tour, trinity wants you to met her work friends, you're excited to meet all but one. samira mohan, although her and trinity are now friends, as her best friend you simply cannot get over the fact that one comment from samira made trinity spiral and doubt herself.

♡warnings/contains: poc!fem!reader, reader uses she/her pronouns. reader is a lead guitarist in a famous band. slow burn (one sided enemies to friends to lovers.) mutual yearning. established relationship (between jack and samira). age gap between jack + samria and reader (samira + reader late 20's, jack is late 40's-early 50's). for mature audiences due to explicit language and sexually mature content. this story follows both a smau and written plot. reader falls under the lgbtqia+ community but not otherwise labeled.

♡inspiration: triple match point @barnesonfilm + do i wanna know? @tresleches333

character guide

meet... lead guitarist reader

meet... samira mohan

meet... jack abbot

meet... the skeletons

bittersweet stars album lovebomb playlist

chapters

chapter one: war is over! (coming soon!)

©mskdsins 2026 | all rights reserved. no part of this publication may be reproduced without permission. i do not give permission to modify, copy, translate or repost any of my works on other platforms. i do not give permission for any of my works to be fed into any kind of ai system. i do not give permission for you to claim any of my works as your own.

You’d do so many things, yet none, to see him one more time. 

No, no, no, stay with me 

The cold water didn’t help — nothing helped with the numbness. You stood there, hands gripping the edges of the sink, staring at the stranger in the mirror. Another long sigh slipped out of you. Feeling alive left you with scars — a constant reminder that to feel something, even a spark of happiness, you must also feel pain. 

Mohan get out. Every single fucker who’s not working on her needs to get out! 

You emailed Gloria, short and direct, saying you’d take the offer, but only if you were everyone’s senior. No exceptions. No one could push back and no one could say no to you.

She agreed.

Scrubs on and hair gently sitting on your shoulders. Makeup done just enough to look sharp and shoes laced.

Today’s scrubs colour of choice was red. 

The colour of anger.

The colour of superiority.

The colour of your blood that covered the ER floor that day. 

The colour that told everyone: I am your senior and you report to me. 

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror and smiled.

You walked out of the door.

My face… what the fuck happened to my face! 

You stood outside the ER doors and repeated to yourself: fourteen hours, fourteen hours, fourteen hours, fourteen hour sh….. You held your head high and walked in — no smiles, no eye contact, just focusing on the target ahead. 

“Good morning Lena” voice firm, quiet and stern.

She turned around slowly to the familiar voice she thought she’d never hear again. 

“Hello Doc!” She said, a smile spreading across her face “It’s good to see you, sweetheart”

Likewise? No that would be a lie. You watched her eyes as they slowly traced your scars, from your face down to your arm. 

“I’m good, Lena” you said firmly, snapping her out of whatever world she was in. Not an answer to a question she asked, but an end to a thought that wandered through her mind.

This is all your fault Jack

I know it is!

“Is your attending around?” You asked “I’m here early so I can catch up” 

“He’s in there, sweet”

You muttered “thank you” before walking towards the room. 

Hours turned into days. Days dragged into months of you wondering if you’ll get to speak with him again. If you will ever tell him what you truly feel. If you will ever get your revenge? 

His broken eyes haunted you in your sleep. His screams hid in the corners of quiet rooms. 

He didn’t know you were coming — that was another condition. The beautiful element of surprising every motherfucker that did you wrong. 

“Hello Jack” you said as you walked in. Not Dr Abbot, like he reminded you last time. Just Jack.

And there it was. The beautiful look of betrayal. All the color drained from his face. He froze, eyes wide with shock. You counted in your mind: one, two, three, four….

Starting compressions! One, two, three, four….

“Are you aright?” You asked, holding down a small smile “do you need to sit down?” 

“Uh…” was that a word? A sound? A noise? Eventually, the cat let go of his tongue as he said “hello”. 

He gripped onto the edge of the bed and adjusted his posture. That beautiful posture that the old you had fallen for. 

“I’m here for rounds” you said.

“F—for rounds?” He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. 

That beautiful hair you used to run your fingers through until he fell asleep.

“I am covering for Michael” not Robby “As senior emergency attending physician for the day shift.” 

The jaw dropped wide open. 

“So” you said quietly “rounds then you can go home?”

His chest rose and fell faster. After a few seconds, he gave a small, shaky nod.

“Good to see you Jack” therapy taught you to kill them with kindness but it didn’t say you had to forget or forgive. “You look well”

A lie. He looked terrible — like he hadn’t been mentally or physically well. 

Every fibre in your body wanted to reach over and pull him in for a hug, but you knew that would break him. Not you. It was always about him. 

You turned your back to him and moved in a confident rhythm, so womanly and heavenly, and so God damn powerful. 

You caught up with the night shift staff — filling you in on every single patient. Eyes traced your scars with every movement you made. You scared them — not because of the scars, but because of your confidence and your powerful charisma. 

“Thank you for filling me in. I’ll take it from here” you clapped your hands together once, gave a sharp nod, and walked toward the hub.

The day shift staff gathered around, backs turned to you, chit-chatting amongst themselves. 

“So if Robby isn’t here who’s covering today?”

“Has the ER even not had an attending?”

“W—what happens now?”

“Dana, do you now who’s covering?”

You smiled. 

“Me” 

They all turned at once. Hands in pockets, shoulders squared, black stethoscope around your neck and scars glowing under the fluorescent light. 

You craved a dramatic entrance, and you got your moment.

Jaws dropped. 

Eyes widened. 

Someone whispered shit. 

Your ego gave you a tap on the shoulder, and somewhere in the distance, you heard an imaginary audience, clap. 

“Good morning team” you said “I will be covering today’s shift as your senior attending”

You approached them slowly and said  “The night shift has filled me in, but I trust you will all do rounds quickly. There are already 50 patients in triage”

“H—hi” Langdon said, giving you a small wave. 

“Hello Frank” you replied with a nod “Any questions?”

I did this Robby, I did this! 

“Uh..” Whitaker tried to say something but Santos nudged him and so he kept quiet. 

“Dennis, it’s good to see you too” the first genuine smile you have given so far. 

Whitaker can you intubate any faster!

He smiled back. 

You turned around to face Javadi who looked like she was about to cry. You gave her another genuine smile and she rushed over and hugged you so tightly she almost knocked you off your feet. 

“Hi sweety” you said, voice muffled against her shoulder as you pushed her hair out of the way. She pulled back smiling and fixed her scrubs as she stood next to you.

“Alright, rounds. Present after each case, and your senior is Langdon. You report to him, he reports to me. Langdon, I would like you to float today — supervise, educate, present” you said “they do all the work, you correct verbally and only step in when you think it’s necessary”

He nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Has everyone been assigned sections?” 

They all nodded. 

“Uh” Ogilvie raised his hand “where am I?”

“Where are you usually?” 

He pointed at Santos.

“Today you will shadow nurses”

“N—nurses?”

“Yes, nurses. Does anyone here know what our nurses actually get up to?”

Perlah put her hand up, smiling. You glanced at her from the corner of your eye and back at the team. “You will learn a lot of them — you gotta respect and know what they do so you can complete your work”

He nodded and you felt a few approving smiles. 

Perlah can you uh… I need more o-neg. Stat. 

What you hadn’t noticed was Jack, along with the night shift crew, standing behind your team, watching. 

“Fucking hot damn” Parker said “she looks good”

“I’m scared” Shen replied quietly. 

Your phone rang as the group dispersed.

“Hi”…. “Shit. When?” “How many?…. What do you mean you don’t know?” “Lockdown?”… “Alright” 

You hung up, cleared your throat and walked through the ambulance bay door, outside. The calm before a terrible, fucked up storm, and you were in charge. You breathed in the last bit of fresh air your lungs will know for some time. 

With heavy and determined footsteps, you walked back to the hub and grabbed the intercom. “Can all staff gather around the hub please, that’s all staff to the hub. Now”

“What was that all about?” Dana frowned at you. There was a look of fear in your eyes that she knew too well. 

You replied quickly “nothing good”.

Everyone gathered within minutes — another tap on the back for the commanding voice.

“Listen up team, I just got a call from SWAT. There are multiple mass shootings currently happening all across Pittsburgh.”

You saw Gloria rushing through the doors but you continued talking.

“The number of casualties is unknown, however they have already targeted one hospital, with multiple staff injured”

“What!” You glanced over your shoulder to Jack but you ignored him.

“Gloria, am I correct in saying we are in lockdown?”

“Correct. The doors will be locked and SWAT will be positioned outside. Victims will be brought in only when it is safe”

“You can’t just lock the door otherwise, how are we treating casualties?” Jack now stood across the floor from you. 

“We can’t treat casualties if we’re dead” you said sharply, your stare holding his “they shoot the staff, they shoot the only people who can save their lives.”

“Fuck” someone said and you heard uneasy whispers fill the floor. 

“Staff will be allowed to go home” Gloria’s lips parted as she heard you say the words “your safety is more important than a job. But if you want to stay, I, and no one else, can promise you safety”

You looked around at panicked and scared faces. 

“SWAT will also be bringing everyone bulletproof vests. Outside will be triage — SWAT medics will assist and send them in. The closer you are to the door,  the more careful you need to be” You continued “If anyone needs to go home, you need to leave now. But please be careful”

No one moved as everyone stared at you and your scars. 

“Night shift staff” you said to them “are you leaving or staying?”

“Staying” Parker quickly put her hand up along with the majority of the staff. 

“I will stay too” Lena said. 

You turned around to Jack “of course I’ll stay”

“Good, please go take your break now”

Jack cut in sharply and said “we’re good”. 

“Nope” you smiled “you will take your break, a minimum of two hours. I will not allow tired staff on the floor”

He nodded and you saw Parker smirk.

“SWAT is here” Javadi whispered. 

A tall man with dark hair and striking green eyes walked in like he’d stepped off a magazine cover — full SWAT uniform, bold letters across his chest. Every head in the room turned to watch him.

Two dramatic entrances in one day. Perfect. 

He spotted you immediately and smiled and you didn’t hide your grin. People’s heads turned away from him towards the person he was smiling at: you. 

You walked straight over and he pulled you in with one strong arm, and you gave him a long, heavy kiss. You whispered against his lips “Hi baby.”

You heard someone whistle — actually, it was multiple people. You felt eyes burn in the back of your head as you pulled away from him. 

“Everyone, this is Pete, Chief of Special Operations and SWAT commander for the city police department” you said, standing by him. “He will cover the outside with the squad. He is accompanied by Dr Lane, the lead medic assigned to Special Operations.”

Dr Lane gave a small wave as he stood to your side. 

“SWAT has already surrounded the hospital” Pete announced, his deep, gravelly voice cutting through the room with authority “we will communicate via radios…”

A couple of officers started handing them out.

Your eyes finally met Jack’s — they were sad and tired. They were also jealous that your lips were no longer his. 

Is sh—she dead? Robby is she dead!

“…and no one enters without going through SWAT”

You didn’t notice yourself smiling as you watched him take command. 

Today was a bad day for many people, but revenge was sweet, and today was going great for you.

You explained to everyone how triage would work and which protocol had been initiated. Some staff decided to leave, and you certainly did not blame them.  Everyone had now gowned up, except you. You remained in red, loud and clear. 

You oversaw what everyone was doing and how they were operating. Critical patients were all moved upstairs, beds empty and ready for the chaos. You then heard the first siren and braced yourself.

SWAT medic cleared the first patient and passed the gurney to the ER staff.

“GSW right thigh, clean exit wound” King said.

“Yours, take Javadi” you said firmly. The entirety of the ER stood behind you as you triaged each patient and assigned them to clinicians. 

If she dies, I die!

And suddenly, every doctor and nurse were occupied with patients. You floated between rooms, barking commands, stepping in when needed, and most importantly, teaching. 

The casualties slowed down, which was unusual because it hadn’t even been two hours. You took your gloves off and walked outside to find Pete. 

 Jack had already beaten you to it, and he was outside talking to the squad 

“Babe, what are you doing out here” Pete quickly stepped to your side with a bulletproof vest “you need to wear this”

You shook your head “I’m good, thank you”. 

Your eyes swept the perimeter: armed officers were posted at every corner, rifles trained on every passing car. A loud intercom kept repeating the same commands: open all windows, hands where we can see them.

“What’s the update?” You asked. 

“The second hospital has been attacked” someone said “although they didn’t have SWAT”

“Why not?”

“There are still active shootings they can’t seem to control” Pete added.

Your lips parted in panic and you felt your heart rate spike. “Okay. Do you think you guys will leave?”

“We won’t leave our positions, no” Pete said “Not when we’re here to protect the biggest trauma centre”

“And Pete’s girl” someone muttered with a grin. 

You let out a small laugh and said “shut up, Martin”

Your eyes flicked back to Jack. “Dr Abbot, may I speak with you inside?”

He nodded. You gave Pete’s hand a quick squeeze before walking back inside. 

“I’m on break” he quickly said, eyes not meeting yours. 

“That’s not what I was going to say” you quietly replied, “I wanted to see how you are doing, with all of this”

He gave you a small smile, and you felt that same heartbreak you did that night. 

I love you, i will always do. But i will never forgive myself. If you live, please don’t ever forgive me

“I am around if you need anything. Please take your break somewhere where you can actually rest?” You said “the second wave will hit us shortly”

“Sure” he said quietly and walked off. You watched him, a familiar limp in his step, wondering why life was so unfair. 

If one person was going to make you cry today, it was Jack’s broken heart. You wondered how many times it could break before he walks over the edge of the roof. 

“Uh I need uh… help” Whitaker said with a panicked look on his face “pretty sure my patient was one of the shooters”

“Shit. Alright, who’s in there?”

“Me and McCkay” 

“What did he say?” 

“He mumbled something about people deserving this. He also has a mob tattoo on his arm” He said “he said that people should own guns and do whatever they want with them”

“Okay let’s not make any assumptions. I’ll swap with you. Please let SWAT know that I need someone to assist, uniform off, no guns. Got it?”

He nodded and rushed off.

You stepped into the room where McKay was suturing a leg wound. “McKay, I’ll take over” 

She frowned, still focusing on the patient’s leg. 

“Now, please” you said, putting gloves on. 

She nodded, stepped aside, and quickly briefed you on the history and what she’d done. 

“Thank you” you said as you attended to the wound.

“So, how are you feeling?” You asked the patient as you scanned for any weapons and staying clear of his hands. 

“I’d like some pain meds, please”

“We’re running low on them I’m afraid” you said firmly. 

You glanced over and someone you didn’t know, walked in. You flinched hard at first until he gave a quick series of tactical hand signals, then tapped his chest where the SWAT lettering would be.

You nodded and turned back to the patient. 

“My colleague here is going to ask some questions as I work on your leg” you said softly, working as quickly as possible.

The SWAT officer, who introduced himself by his first name, said he was asking witnesses to describe what happened. The patient, after answering many, many questions, turned out to be a big believer in gun laws and… applying these laws.

A decision was made to detain him until proven innocent. Arguments and yells filled the room but he was quickly handcuffed to the bed.

We failed her, every single one of us failed her!

You walked outside to find Jack wandering around, eyes full of fear.

“Did you seriously go in there on your own with a possible shooter?” He asked. 

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, and snap back but all you said was “yes, do you have a problem with that?”

His shoulders dropped and you saw his jaw tense. 

You asked “What area are you covering?”

“Trauma” 

“You need a bullet proof vest then” you bit back.

He cut in quickly “Where’s yours?” 

You took a small, calculated step towards him “I died once, what’s another?”

You felt the tension grasp at the thin air between you and Jack. “Don’t worry about me, Dr Abbot. That was never your job”

You turned your back on him and continued with rounds.

I smell blood, so much of it. Where is it coming from? 

You looked at the ER floors — colours indeed matched your scrubs. You refused to let your mind wander to your past, but sometimes, only sometimes, you let it. You found comfort in repeating familiar events in your mind. 

Someone touched your arm gently and you flinched. 

“Doc we need you in trauma two” Princess was by your side. 

Don’t cry, Princess I’m okay.

“How can I help?” You asked as you walked in.

Garcia and Walsh’s mouths dropped wide open. 

Garcia said quietly “What the fuck”.

“Nice to see you too” you smiled “and no you’re not seeing a ghost. It’s me in the flesh”

“Well, God damn girl, you look good” she smirked and shook her head. 

“So I’m needed in here?”

“Abbot and I are having a little disagreement and we need a senior to settle it” Walsh said.

Childish. Foolish. All of you! You did this! 

“Walsh presents first. Don’t cut each other in, this isn’t high school” you said firmly.

And they did, just like you asked them to. Two hot-headed doctors, both passionate about what they wanted to do. But one critical patient.

“Walsh take the lead” you said firmly before walking out, feeling Jack follow you, all the way to the break room. 

“You’re taking a break?” He asked quietly.

“No, I’m making a hot drink” you said softly “I need caffeine if I’m going to run this for the next however many long hours”

You glanced over your shoulder, noticing his silence and said “Would you like one?”

He stayed quiet.

“Look, Robby ran things differently. But I don’t pride myself in exhaustion” you said softly “if I’m tired, I make mistakes. If I make mistakes, the team gets in trouble”

“You changed” he said softly. Was he admiring? Jealous? Sad?

“Of course I did Jack” you said softly “what did you expect was going to happen?”

“I’m sorry.” A whisper. A mutter. 

“I uh…” he stared at the floor, too embarrassed to meet your eyes “I regret so many things. How I let you down and…. Everything I did…”

“Regret only stops you from moving forward in life, Jack. You only get one shot at this, you need to move on”

He said “I don’t think I ever will”

“That’s a shame” you said as you walked past him leaving the room. 

You felt your throat go dry and anxiety slowly creeping up. Would it be so bad if you just… hugged him? Told him how much you missed him? You swallowed back tears and jumped right back into the chaos. 

You stood by the ambulance doors, watching another wave of casualties being rushed in, when the ER lights suddenly cut out. The entire department fell into darkness.

You stood out like a sore thumb in your red scrubs. Panic had now fully taken over as you yelled “everyone get down!”

Everyone dropped instantly, covering patients or their heads. You charged toward the trauma room when strong arms grabbed you, yanking you down and pinning you beneath them.

At first it was panic. 

Then it was comfort.

Jack was on top of you, shielding your body with his own, covering every inch he could.

“I’m okay” you whispered “Jack I’m okay”

He nodded, breathing hard, and carefully rolled off you, pulling you both into a shadowed corner.

You grabbed your radio. “Pete, come in.” Nothing. You tried again. “Anyone, come in.” Silence.

The ER was pitch black, the only light came through the ambulance doors.

“Shit, shit, shit” you muttered. You looked over at Jack and said “give me your bulletproof vest”.

“The hell im not! You’re not doing what I think you’re doing”

“Give me the fucking vest, Jack” 

He hissed “Over my dead body. Stay down, I’ll take a look”

You shook your head in anger and slowly got up, looking around. He pulled your wrist back down. 

His hands warm, rough, familiar. 

Please baby don’t leave me. It’s only you that I want. It’s only you that I ever wanted

Everyone fell silent. The only sound left was the steady, eerie beeping of machines. The monitors were still running and outlets worked. Everything had power — except the lights.

Was someone fucking with you?

You lifted the radio again. This time, Pete’s voice crackled through. “Stay down. Possible shooter. Over.”

You ducked back down, heart hammering, then started crawling low across the floor, moving out of the corner. You closed your eyes for a second, steadying your breath before shouting loud enough for the whole ER to hear “I need everyone to remain calm, regardless of what happens next. You protect yourself first, then others. Got it?”

No one answered.

You said again, louder this time “got it?”

Everyone replied at once. 

Time passed by, then cutting through the silence was a the sound of a flatline. The cruelty of the timing hit you hard. In the pitch black, with a possible shooter still out there, someone was slipping away and no one could move to help.

You lifted the radio again. “Pete, come in.” No answer.

But after a few seconds, Martin’s voice crackled through. “Patchy… we’re good out here. Trying to locate contact. You guys good in there? Over.”

“Marty we’re okay. Uh… be careful out there. Over” your voice shook, and you didn’t hold back tears. Not when you now had two teams to take care of. 

“Patchy?” Langdon asked quietly. 

“Patches, scars, whatever they did to put this face back together” you said quietly. 

He whispered back “I like it”

“Me too” you answered.

You heard footsteps and you peeked outside the room, Jack next to you, to find a shadow walking down the corridor. 

“Shit someone’s coming. Move, move” Jack said as he pushed you towards the back of the room. He quickly took his vest off and put it over you. 

He leaned in closer and you felt his warm breath on your face “if they come in here, you crawl through the back door, got it?”

You nodded. 

You sat against the wall, knees up to your chest, and Jack now sat in front of you. 

I will give you my life, every minute, every second, every hour, if it means I get to see you happy again. 

The lights turned on all of a sudden, and the shadow was a SWAT team member.

Everyone sighed in relief at the sight and you felt tension break. But you didn’t and neither did Jack.

Something was wrong. You didn’t know him. You didn’t know everyone, but him; he didn’t look familiar. 

The way he had tied his laces wasn’t military-like. His posture… the way he held his rifle. It wasn’t someone who said loud and clear: I work for SWAT. 

You quickly got up and walked over to him and said “thank you”.

He replied quitely “anytime”. 

You flashed the tactical signals for freeze and enemy. He nodded like he understood and kept walking.

Jack saw the interaction and fear spread across his face. 

You had an active shooter, in disguise, in your very own ER.

You backed away slowly and radioed Pete, praying he’d pick up “Code Contact, code contact. I repeat, code contact. Over” 

Pete answered back instantly “Did you just say code contact? Over” 

“Code contact in ER floors, dressed in SWAT. Over” 

You watched the so-called SWAT officer pace around the floor, looking at everyone. You took small footsteps towards him, mind ticking, think, think, think.

You saw Jack wanting to make a move but you put your hand out and urged him to move back. The shooter turned around and faced the two of you.

“What are you two looking at?” He snapped. 

“Nothing, officer. It’s been a long day” Jack responded quickly. 

All eyes were on the three of you. Behind the shooter, real SWAT was quietly moving in through the ambulance doors.

Pete signalled for you to freeze. 

You said “Hey officer, can you uh… talk to one our patients please? We think he’s one of the shooters”

“Yeah sure” 

“Follow me” you calmly said. You gestured at Jack in tactical sign: gather, evacuate, door.

His lips dropped in defeat as he nodded. 

“There he is” you said “so, our officer here would like to speak with you. Ask you some more questions. If he thinks you’re innocent, we can let you go”

You said, giving the officer a small forced smile. The shooter didn’t seem to notice the eerie silence that had fallen over the ER — no one moving, no one speaking, injured patients and staff alike on the floor. 

“Uh sure, whatever gets me out of here” the patient replied.

You nodded and walked calmly out of the door and as you did, SWAT stormed in.

Before you could even react, strong arms grabbed your waist and your feet left the ground. Pete had thrown you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and was running you out of the ER.

“I don’t abandon my team, Pete” you said quietly as he sat you on the ground. Not a snap, not a moment of anger. Those days were behind you.

Pete was patient, and kind, and loving. He opened the door of the armored truck and motioned for you to get in.

“Okay baby” you whsipered.

He cupped your face with his hand and leaned in “I love you, and I will never tell you what you can or can’t do. But I can’t have you anywhere near a shooter okay? If I get the chance to protect you then that’s exactly what I’ll do” 

He pulled you into a long, deep kiss.

“Pete” you said “if we get out of here—“

“I’ll fucking marry you” he cut in “if we get out of here in one piece, you’re mine for the rest of my long life”

“I love you too baby” you leaned in for another kiss. 

“I need to get back in there. By the way you look so good look in red” he smirked “but I prefer you naked”

He winked as he shut the door and rushed back inside. 

Someone tell me what you’re doing, please. My face is burning. Someone say something.

You traced your fingers down your scars, smiling to yourself as you thought of Pete. Butterflies danced in your chest as you lost track of time. 

Everything hurts. Please let me go. 

We cant do that, you know we can’t. You can do this

I don’t want to be here just let me go, let me go, let me g…

You spotted Pete through the glass doors, walking straight toward you.

“That was quick thinking” he said as he opened the truck door “and I’m proud to say that my girlfriend was the one who caught it”

You smiled “Actually…it’s fiancée?”

He grinned and leaned in, taking his helmet off. “Oh yeah? That sounds so damn good”

He paused then whispered “Shit I need a ring” 

You tipped your head back and laughed “no baby we don’t need a ring. I just need you”

You grabbed the front of his vest and pulled him in, kissing him hard — like the world might end any second and this could be the last time.

“Ummm as much as I love this” he mumbled against your lips “I don’t know if I can stop and we can’t have sex in the middle of a crisis” 

“We have an on-call room?” You whispered as you laughed.

“Oh you’re gonna wanna be somewhere very private when I take these scrubs off, trust me”

You squealed at his words as he helped you get out of the car. 

“Right I best go back in, are you gonna carry me in this time?”

“No, the floors all yours” he watched you walk away, leaning against the truck. “Hey babe?” 

You stopped and turned around. 

“Tell him how you feel” he said softly “he deserves to know” 

You told Pete everything — no secrets and no lies, and no chances for rumours to spread.

“Are you sure?”

“You’re mine forever and I know I’m never going to lose you. But he did, so tell him”

You signed I love you and walked back in.

How long has she been like this for? 

Hours maybe. 

Did she say anything? 

She said she doesn’t remember what happened. 

Is her memory intact? 

No, she didn’t recognise some people initially but it’s slowly coming back.

Call psych. 

Will do.

You brushed against the shooter, who had been handcuffed,  as you walked back in, holding your head high. You checked in on everyone, announced multiple deaths for lives that were lost when nothing could be done. Everyone was covered in blood, tired, and exhausted. You asked everyone to gather around the hub. 

“Casualties are starting to slow down” you said and saw Pete walk in.

He added “Everything’s now under control”. 

You smiled and nodded. “People will now take turns to take breaks. Shower, freshen up and eat something”

“We don’t need to take a break” someone said and you didn’t bother to look at who it was. 

“If I say you need to take a break then…” you put your hands in your pocket “… you will take a break. We have hours left of this shift, and once all casualties have been attended to, these doors will open back up to other patients.”

You glanced at all of them “now would you like to be hungry, angry, covered in blood and tired when you greet them?” 

No one answered 

How long has she been quiet for? 

Weeks. 

She only communicates by gestures. 

Is she in pain? 

She hasn’t said so. 

Maybe sign language might help, I’ll give one of our volunteers a call. 

“I thought so” you continued “You have your teams so you will work it out between all of you. Any questions?”

“What happened to your face?” 

You heard ohs and whispers then heads turned. It was a young patient sitting on a bed in the corridor, staring straight at you.

Where does it hurt? 

You tapped on your heart. 

Anywhere else? 

You shook your head. 

Do you want me to teach you sign language? 

You nodded. 

Will you ever tell me why you don’t speak? 

“I got my heartbroken then rode a motorcycle with no helmet on” you said softly “looks like we both have cool ass scars, kid”

He smiled and nodded.

You felt your eyes start to well up. Not because of the patient’s question — no. It was everything else. You’d been strong for too long today, holding the weight of it all on your shoulders, and now a small, exhausted part of you regretted ever coming back here. You turned away from the group before anyone could see your face crack. Without a word, you charged down the hall toward the break room, desperate to get away from all of them.

My name is (he signed) P E T E. You can spell yours this way: ….

You ran your hands under cold water, wanting to snap out of whatever you were feeling.

Overwhelmed. Tired. Exhausted. In love. Happy.

Today certainly didn’t go as you planned it. You didn’t plan to announce that many deaths and you certainly didn’t plan to spend the whole day with Jack. 

Lastly, you didn’t expect to feel this many emotions, this late into the shift. 

Jack walked in, freezing as he saw you: red eyes and shaky hands.

It was like a magnet was pulling you towards him —  all you wanted was to tell him that everything will be okay. But nothing was and nothing ever will be okay between the two of you. 

The very same friend that you laughed and cried with. 

The same friend that you so deeply loved. 

The same friend who believed everyone but not you.

You said “are you going to stand there and stare at me?”

Your glossy eyes were now matching his. 

“I’m proud of you” he whispered “of the woman you have become”. 

“You should have been proud of me from day one, Jack”

“That’s not what I meant”

“But it’s how you worded it. Funny isn’t it? How words can be twisted” you said quietly as you leaned against the counter. 

He nodded, jaw tensing, wrinkles spread across his sweaty forehead. 

Jack, your broken Jack, was crying. But the broken version of you couldn’t comfort him anymore. 

You let out a small, broken sob as you brushed past him, head pushed down until you ran through the ambulance doors.

“Hey, hey baby what happened” Pete was now by your side, taking you in for a hug. 

“I just needed a hug” you said “that’s all”

“Do I need to beat someone’s ass?” Martin asked.

You pulled back, looking at the squad.

“Easy boys” you smiled “but the damage is already done” 

“Hey Patchy, you did great in there” someone said.

You whispered “thank you”. 

Pete took his hand in yours and walked away from the eyes of the squad. 

“Are you anxious? Sad? Scared? Talk to me baby”

“Oh I’m on a very high dose of Lexapro so it’s gonna take a lot more than that to upset me” you joked.

I don’t want to feel anything anymore

That is a beautiful voice I’m hearing for the first time and I am privileged you’re trusting me with it

I don’t know what I want

I can help you, if you let me

“Hey Pete. When you saw my scars…what did you think of them?”

“When I first saw you, baby, I thought God damn, i’m allowed to walk on the same ground as that beautiful woman?”

You laughed. “That’s definitely not true. I was a mess”

“No, my love, you weren’t. There was a small sparkle in your eyes. One that told me you wanted to keep going”

“Is that why you stayed?”

“I thought to myself she’s mysterious… and cool, and one day, I will marry her”

You giggled and felt your face flush “What made you think that?”

“It was the way you went from complete silence to commanding any room you walked into. The way you spoke to everyone like equals. The way you supported them without needing anything back.” He brushed his thumb across your hand “I’ve seen you with my squad — they crumble under your authority.”

“You make it sound like I work for SWAT”

“You don’t, but if you were to walk up to them right this second and command them, not one would protest or bat an eye”

I was thinking today we can leave the hospital for a bit? 

You signed: where? 

We can grab some food, eat in my truck and make up stories about people?

You signed: okay. 

What do you want to eat? 

You signed: everything. 

“I best get back. Thank you for… being you” 

“And thank you for making me the happiest guy in the world” he leaned down and kissed your forehead. 

You walked back and the team was now gathered all around the hub, with Gloria addressing them all. 

“… and thank you to everyone who got us through it. You should all be proud of yourselves”

The room filled with applause. You joined in, clapping for them. They had earned it.

“And thank you to Patchy” Langdon turned around and faced you “for saving the day”

“That’s not on me Frank. That’s on everyone else who worked on patients”

“Patchy?” Javadi asked, confused. 

You pointed at your face.

She muttered under her breath “that’s mean” and McKay gentle nudged her. 

You gave them all a genuine smile and said “thank you, to everyone who stayed and pulled a double shift. To everyone who risked their lives to be here. And to SWAT who kept us safe”

“And to you” jack added quitely “for spotting the shooter”

Your eyes met his first then over to Pete who signed tell him everything. 

“I am only covering one shift here and it is ending soon. It’s been a pleasure, working with you all one more time. I wish you all the best” you smiled and looked around.

“We’re sorry” Santos said “about everything” 

Gloria tried to cut in “I don’t think we should —“

“No, no, we should” she said “we all were in the wrong and we lost her because of what we did” 

You signed: Your eyes are beautiful, Pete

Are you flirting with me? 

You signed: of course I am

It’s about damn time sweetheart

“I’ve not come back here for an apology, guys. I’ve moved on, so should all of you”

Sad faces looked back at you across the ER.

“It was all my fault” Jack said quietly and head snapped in his direction “I should’ve been the one to be pushed out. Not you. If anyone’s to blame and people to hate, it’s me. My fuck up, my mistake”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. Your eyes widened, along with everyone else’s. 

“Dr Abbot may I speak with you?”

He nodded and gestured towards the door.

You both walked through triage and stepped outside, standing by the road.

Who was screaming? Why are they screaming? My face hurts. What happened? I can taste something bitter. Why can’t I speak? Who’s that man? Why is he looking at me like that?

“Hey Jack, I don’t know if I am ready to forgive you yet. I don’t know if I ever will” You said, staring at the traffic. 

Do I know him? His eyes look familiar. He has kind eyes. 

“There is a small broken piece of my heart that belongs to you. That piece is dark and miserable but it is yours and forever will be.”

Why is he crying? Does he know me? 

“I hope you find peace, just like I did. I hope that you’ve learnt from your mistakes”

I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry

Jack get out you’re stressing her out 

I’m sorry, please forgive me

“People told me after my accident, to go find my own village. And I did. I’m somehow surrounded by so much testosterone and uniform, but it’s mine”

What do you think of the two old couples over there?

You signed: future. 

I think so too. 

“The single version of me would be going crazy over this. But the engaged version of me is finally on the right path to happiness”

Hey Pete? Tell me more abut SWAT. 

Why do you think you’ll join us? 

Hah. Never. The only man in uniform I need is right here. 

“Please don’t look at my face and remember your mistakes. Think of my old face. The face of your friend who loved you and supported you.” 

Jack’s cheeks were covered in tears and he fidgeted with hands — a soothing motion he did regularly when he was nervous or sad. 

“In another life, Jack, we are friends. Ones who are not broken. Ones who are loyal to each other. Ones who are friends and stay that way forever.”

Get out of my room and I never ever want to see you again! 

Please let me apologise.

Get out Jack! 

You gave his arm a squeeze before walking inside, back turned to the scene of your accident, back turned to the person you once loved so much, back turned to your past. 

“Good bye Jack” 

--

Notes: i’m not going to lie I really wanted to end this story like this:

you opened your eyes and you were back on the ground outside PTMC and it was all a beautiful nightmare. 

But I thought that would DESTROY people and i will end up with so many haters so... it was all real, she’s very happy and loved.

I listened to Raye - Click Clack Symphony as inspiration. 

--

Who said what - if anyone's interested!

Crashing, give epi - Robby

Jack get out! - Dana

No, no, no, stay with me - Jack

Mohan get out. Every single fucker who’s not working on her needs to get out! - Parker

This is all your fault Jack - Lena 

Starting compressions! One, two, three, four…. - King

I did this Robby, I did this! - Jack 

Whitaker can you intubate any faster! - Parker 

Perlah can you uh… I need more o-neg. Stat.  - Shen 

Is sh—she dead? Robby is she dead! - Jack 

If she dies, I die - Jack 

I love you, i will always do. But i will never forgive myself. If you live, please don’t ever forgive me - Jack 

We failed her, every single one of us failed her! - Dana 

Childish. Foolish. All of you! You did this!  - Garcia 

Please baby don’t leave me. It’s only you that I want. It’s only you that I ever wanted - Jack 

I will give you my life, every minute, every second, every hour, if it means I get to see you happy again - Jack

We cant do that, you know we can’t. You can do this. - Langdon 

How long has she been like this for? - unknown nurse 1 

Hours maybe - unknown nurse 2

How long has she been quiet for? - unkown nurse 3

Weeks - unknown nurse 4

Where does it hurt? - Pete 

That is a beautiful voice I’m hearing for the first time and I am privilaged you’re trusting me with it. - pete 

I was thinking today we can leave the hospital for a bit? - Pete

 What do you think of the two old couples over there? - Pete

Jack get out you’re stressing her out - Robby 

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