Life Goes On....

Billie had slid into a gap he didn't know existed until she had filled it. It had been professional at first, he’d openly admired with Robby numerous times about how skilled she was as a nurse, how she had learned how they worked as a department and as individuals quicker than any other nurse he could remember on the team. Then, slowly, over time, he had started admiring her outside of work - they’d bonded over coffee in between patients, gotten to know each other during post-shift breakfasts. He hadn't expected it, but that all came to a head after the Pitt Fest shooting, going home with her hadn't been a choice, Jack had been physically unable to tear himself away from her. He certainly wasn't expecting them to have sex on her couch that night, it had been the best unplanned evening in a long time for him.

But it had also been the first time he had been with anyone intimately since his wife. As soon as it was over, he’d been hit with a wave of guilt. Guilt because he had enjoyed sex with someone other than his wife, guilt because he was alive to experience these things and she wasn’t and guilty because he wanted to do it again and again. He’d wanted Billie so badly it shocked him, had awoken some dormant part of Jack he honestly thought had died when his wife had. 

That's not to say his marriage had always been perfect, they’d married young - probably too young. They’d struggled through deployments which then ended up with him in physiotherapy learning to walk again. 

  They’d lost each other when he’d lost his lower leg, his phantom pain had been almost easier to deal with over the look on his wife’s face the first time she saw his residual limb for the first time. It hadn't been disgust, but fear, heartbreak. The realisation for both of them that their relationship would probably never be the same again. 

They’d grown together because of his injury - she drove him to his appointments, dragged him out of bed when his days felt too dark to continue, had learnt to dress his wounds so he didn't need to. In return he had pushed himself in physiotherapy, had bought himself the best prosthesis on the market, learnt to walk with it quicker than anyone expected just so he could walk beside her again. But neither of them knew how to exist completely together again. Intimacy had been different, strained as they both adapted to his new body. 

But, before they could really figure it out together, she had been stolen from the world far too soon. 

Jack had believed for a long time that whatever part of him that could want another person like that had died alongside his wife that day. He’d fought off attempts from family, friends, even colleagues to set him up - battling with his deep loyalty and then through what his therapist would later describe as survivors guilt. 

He had resigned himself to a life alone and had honestly accepted his fate. Loved his nieces and nephews in a way that he thought resembled the way he would have felt about his own kids. Works too hard, fills his days off by assisting with SWAT and listening to the police scanner in the evenings and even occasionally volunteers with The Street Team.

Billie had been like a breath of fresh air, it had scared him initially. Then that fear had caused him to keep their relationship more casual than he ever would’ve liked. It had felt safe, and easy, and Billie seemed to understand that whilst he couldn’t give her everything yet that he was trying. Admittedly now, he knew he had been holding onto his past like a security blanket, had hidden from his feelings by trying to bury it in his loyalty to his deceased wife. Meant that he didn't need to admit to Billie just how important she was to him - that she had not only been the first since he became a widower but that she hadn’t ever looked at his residual limb like it was a problem, had never flinched when he removed his prosthesis or looked at him with pity. 

She’d made him feel normal. 

And that terrified him.

Because, in his eyes, she deserved so much more than him. A man who still wore his wedding ring and who still occasionally woke in a cold sweat from nightmares about war and explosions. Jack felt the need to be better for her, to be able to be the man that she deserved. So he’d done the hardest thing he’d done in a long time and told Billie he wanted to pause them, had tried to explain to her that it was him, that he needed to work on himself but she had shut down the conversation before he could finish. He had hoped she knew what he was trying to explain, that he was doing this for her, for them. 

Almost immediately there was a space between them, Billie had pulled back so quickly it almost gave him whiplash. He missed her, more than he knew what to do with. But he knew it was for the best in the long run that this happened. He kept trying to catch her, to explain what was going on, but she made it almost impossible.

Then Samira happened. 

**

Jack sat on the gurney with his arms crossed over his chest, patiently waiting for Dr. Mohan to finish up with patching up the graze on his back, the dull ache from where the bullet had brushed against him already feeling better now it had been cleaned and dressed properly. He hadn't intended on anyone helping him, he’d been fully prepared to take care of it by himself, even if there was a part of him that had been hoping Billie would come find him once she had finished up, but he knew the likelihood of that was slim. There was a tension between them he couldn’t explain, an awkwardness that unsettled him. He knew it was his own doing, that he needed to sit her down and explain fully what he felt, what he wanted with her. 

“Why do you do this?” She asked from behind him.

“My therapist said I needed a hobby.” He replies dryly.

“How noble of you.” Mohan stated, pressing down the adhesive edges of a dressing to his skin. 

Jack didn’t reply to that, making a small noise at the back of his throat to acknowledge he’d heard her instead. He heard the rustling as she collected the packaging from everything she’d used to clean up his wound before she appeared in front of him, pulling off her gloves. He started to reach over to the seat in front of him for his shirt - even though it was bloody and sweat soaked, he deemed the black material wearable until he could shower and change at home. He paused however, when Dr. Mohan’s hand landed on his forearm as he moved, then she shifted closer to his knees - not quite spread enough to step in between them. Jack froze, bewildered, raising one eyebrow in a silent question.

“It’s incredible, the bravery it takes to go out like you do with SWAT.” She commented, quickly glancing over one shoulder, looking out into the main ED before returning her attention back to Jack. “I bet people don’t appreciate that enough.”

He shrugged one shoulder, the compliment not landing right with him. “It’s my job.”

“No.” Mohan shook her head, leaning closer. “It’s more than that.” 

Jack’s unsure how to reply to that, is generally unsure on the direction the conversation has gone. But, the woman in front of him seems to take his silence as some sort of cue because she starts leaning forward, brows furrowed. Before his brain really catches up with what's happening, Dr. Mohan has leant completely into him, her lips pressed against his own. 

For a heartbeat, he freezes. Not because he enjoys it, but because he still can't quite comprehend how wound cleaning has turned into his colleague kissing him in an exam room. He pulls away from her so sharply he worries about whiplash then places his hands on her upper arms to push her away from him so he can stand off the examination bed.

“What are you doing?” He exclaims, harsher than he intended, finally reaching for and pulling his t-shirt on. 

“I…” She starts, almost reaching for him again. “I know. I know this shouldn’t have happened here, I just couldn’t wait any longer.” 

“This shouldn’t have happened here? Dr. Mohan - it shouldn’t have happened at all.” He berates, watching her face fall slightly at his words.

“I thought you were taking things slowly. You invited me for breakfast. You sent me medical studies on your day off.” 

Jack lets out a breath, hands coming to rest on his hips. “I’m sorry, you misunderstood.”

“But -” 

“No.” He interrupts her, needing to get his point across. He doesn’t want to leave any chances for any further misunderstandings between them. “I respect you, I think you’re one hell of a Doctor. I enjoy working with you, but that’s where it ends. We occasionally go for breakfast to decompress after a hard shift if no one feels like beer in the park. I sent you the case studies so you could learn from them, because I’m damn sure Robby doesn’t show you reports on experimental treatments.” 

Silence settles between them in the wake of his words. Mohan looks hurt, her dark brows furrowed so hard they nearly touch. He looks away from her and over her shoulder into the department, hoping for a quick glimpse of Billie, needing the peace she brings to him without even knowing it. Feels sick at the tiny possibility she could’ve seen what had happened in the last 5 minutes in the room he suddenly felt trapped in.

“I really believed - .” She breathes out, not meeting his eyes now. “So, there’s not even a chance?” 

“No.” It's a blunt, one word response. Because there isn't a chance for them, at all. “My feelings are for someone else.”

** 

He’d been going to a therapist since he lost his leg and over the years it had changed depending on how he felt - he’d gone once a week during his recovery, and after he lost his wife. In recent years he’d scaled it back to once a month, but because of Billie he decided to start going back more. 

For the next 6 weeks he sat in that same office twice a week and spoken openly about his losses, how it affected every aspect of his life without him realising it. He spoke about the guilt he felt at potentially getting a second chance with Billie, about how she made him feel, about how that conflicted with how he felt about his wife. 

  His therapist made him realise that moving forward with his life wasn’t a betrayal, nor did it diminish the love and respect he had felt for his wife. It didn't erase the memories they had together, but made him look back fondly at them.

He had been exhausted by it. Missed Billie more than he thought he would. But it had been worth it the morning he had stood in his bedroom and finally slid off his wedding band. Jack had expected to feel something worse about the finality of the moment, but after his weeks of extensive therapy, he could admit to himself that it was time. He was ready for this new chance he had, ready to accept the fact that he had been given a second chance at love, and that he was ready to hold on to her with both hands and not let go.

Now he just had to get Billie to talk to him.

To begin with, it's tiredness. But not the usual tiredness that comes from working 12 hour shifts, it's a bone weary, aching sort of fatigue Billie can't quite shift. It almost reminds her of when she had caught the flu that had gone round the department the previous winter, so much so, she assumes she’s getting sick. 

She’d intended to only go for a 10 minute sit down in the break room during a busy day shift, had rested her head on top of her arms once she sat at the table and the next thing she knew Dana had been shaking her awake. 27 minutes later. 

“You alright? You look like someone hit you with a car, then reversed back over you for luck.” The older woman had questioned, as honest as ever. 

Billie groaned, stretching her arms over her head to try and shake off some of the overwhelming fatigue. “I feel worse than I look, trust me.” 

The admittance of that has Dana pausing from where she’d been peeling a banana across the room, taking the opportunity to grab something quickly before someone undoubtedly came looking for the charge nurse. “You need to go home?” 

“No, no, I’m not that bad. I can work through it.” She responds, “I’ve worked 2 doubles this week with Mateo out sick. I’m just tired.” 

Billie stands, grabbing a cup of less than good free coffee the hospital supplies for them, wincing as she takes a sip of the bitter liquid, hoping that the caffeine kicks in soon to help her through the rest of her shift.

Because that's all it is, tiredness. 

** 

Then it's the emotions. A 12 year old boy had been brought in with a tibia fracture after he’d fallen off the monkey bars, and whilst he’d been getting an x-ray his mother and little sister had been set up in the family room. The little girl had taken it upon herself to draw pictures for her and Dr. McKay, who had been the lead doctor on the case. 

  The 6 year old had taken time to point out every detail on the pictures as she’d handed them over, Billie hadn’t been able to stop the tears from welling in her eyes as the innocent little voice described how she’d had to use the blue pencil to colour in the flowers instead of the pink because it needed sharpened. Tears had welled in her eyes, the back of her throat tightening with emotion as she looked down at the drawing in her hands. 

At the time she’d put it down to tiredness (as per usual) but also at the complete 180 that the day had done, when earlier that shift she’d dealt with a man who had been so aggressive towards staff - especially the female nurses - that Ahmad had pulled a chair into the cubicle with him, unwilling to leave any member of staff alone with the combatant man. From that to sitting next to the sweet child who was looking at her and Cassie like they had invented her favorite candy just for helping her big brother, it had been enough to push her over the edge for the day. 

**

Next on her list of symptoms is nausea. Not actual sickness - although Billie wonders if even that would’ve made her accept her fate earlier than what she actually did. This was more like sudden aversions to taste and smells, easily explained away with other excuses.

Like the coffee she had poured herself in between patients. Billie had volunteered to cover chairs to help run down the waiting time with Donnie - a healthy workplace bet between the two of them as to who could ‘treat ‘em and street ‘em’ before the shift was finished. Once they had cleared the mass of patients waiting to be seen, she had volunteered to go get them both a coffee to celebrate bringing the waiting hour down from 4 hours to just over 1. She’d prepared them both - Donnie liked his just black, plain but she always added some creamer to hers. When she took the first sip from her paper cup, she had had to throw the whole thing out from the taste. In the moment, she had sworn the creamer was off, even though she remembered Dana opening it earlier in the shift. Had rolled her eyes thinking the senior nurse probably grabbed one due to expire. 

After that, it had been when she’d walked into the staff room and had almost immediately had to turn around and walk back out again when Perlah had reheated fish in the microwave on her lunch. For Billie, that had always been a cardinal sin, and in her eyes it should be illegal to reheat fucking fish in a workplace. It hadn’t seemed like a dramatic reaction at the time - her, Dana and Dr. Robby had made a very quick exit in the aftermath but it wasn't until later that she had realised she had been the only one who had had to hover over the nearest trash can for a while to make sure she wasn't going to hurl.

**

Maybe it was a combination of all of the above, maybe it was also the fact that she hadn't had a period in 2 months that finally got her attention. Made her sit up and take note, made her shove Trinity into the privacy of one of the disabled toilet facilities they had on the ED floor. The female doctor had protested at the rough handling, whining about charting and wanting to actually leave the hospital at a reasonable time as Billie closed and locked the door behind them. However, all complaints died on her lips when she saw the look on Billie’s face. 

“Who died?” She asked, watching as Billie rested against the door behind her.

She scoffed at the ridiculousness of the situation she found herself in, Billie pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “No deaths. Maybe a birth though.”

“I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say?” 

“I’m late.” She replies, hands coming away from her face to look at the woman in front of her. 

“How late?!” Trinity asks, her dark eyes wide with shock.

“Like, late, late. I don’t think I’ve had a period in like 8 weeks.” Billie replies.

“Fuck.” 

She laughs at that, because, honestly, it completely summed up the whole situation. Her and Jack were consenting adults, she was on the pill, but still they had never really spoken about him wearing condoms. She had assumed at the time he wasn’t sleeping around since she never heard anything to suggest he was, and she had broken up with a guy a few months before she started sleeping with Jack, and that guy had been anal about wrapping it up. It had crossed her mind a couple of times in the beginning, that they should - as medical professionals - either have spoken about contraception or relied on something other than her responsibility to take a tiny pill everyday. 

  So here she was, months down the line, with no period, so she wasn't doing well. Fuck indeed. 

“Okay, uhhh,” Trinity starts, pushing her hair behind her ears, taking a step towards her. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to go to stores and steal a test kit. Then I’m going to watch you pee into a cup like a good friend and we’ll wait for the result together, okay?” 

Billie chuckles, “Steal a test from the hospital? You know there’s a CVS down the street right, I was going to grab one on my way home.” 

“Dude, do you know how expensive they are? Plus, after the PTSD this place has given us all, I think stealing a pregnancy test is the least Gloria and the powers that be should be concerned about.” 

“Not untrue.”

“Okay, I’ll be back.” Santos places her hands on Billie’s shoulders as she shuffles her to the other side of the small bathroom, “Stay here.”

** 

Trinity returns within 10 minutes, no doubt having got tied up with either a patient or another member of staff whilst she tried to covertly sneak a testing kit into her scrub pants. Billie is honestly incredibly surprised it takes her until she’d dipped the testing strip into her cup of urine and laid it down on a paper towel on the counter to ask the question. She honestly admired the restraint she knew Trinity was showing about this whole situation.

“So, who's your baby daddy?” She asks, leaning a hip against the counter beside Billie, both of them looking down at the strip.

Billie hesitates as she dries off her hands, it's not a complicated answer, not really. There is physically only one possibility if the test is positive. Her hesitation comes from the implications it brings. Jack had broken up with her as much as he could’ve in terms of their confusing, casual relationship and now he was maybe with Samira. Bringing a baby into that was way messier than she ever pictured starting a family. Plus, she didn't even know if Jack had ever wanted a family. Had he and his wife ever tried? Or was it something they had decided they didn’t want? 

Did she want this? 

“Billie?” Trinity prompts her.

“Jack.” She answers, with a sigh. “If it's positive, then it's Jack’s.” 

“You don't sound happy about that.”

“It’s not that, Trinity, I just never imagined myself potentially having a baby to a man who I had been having casual sex with for nearly a year. Plus, we’re not even a thing anymore, you know?” Billie turns to lean her lower back against the counter, tired of looking down at the stupid stick on the counter with 1 pink line in the control panel as if congratulating her for dipping it into her pee correctly. 

“Okay, first off - I have so many questions about everything you just said. But you wouldn’t be alone, you know that right?” Santos tells her, gripping the wrist nearest to her where it was supporting Billie against the counter. “Whatever you decide to do, I’d support you every step of the way.” 

“I know, thank you.” Billie gives the other woman a teary smile, incredibly grateful to have her here at that moment. 

She takes a deep breath, knowing that the 3 minute wait is probably up, that she needs to turn around and meet her fate. Needs to know so she can start seriously thinking about what the future potentially holds for her. For Jack. For the baby she might be carrying. 

Billie turns, grasping onto Trinity’s hand as she does so. And both of the women look down at the test sitting on the counter. 

Well fuck. 

Another pink line.

Positive. 

** 

Eventually, she and Trinity clean up the trash and prepare to leave the toilet, the positive test tucked securely into the pocket of her scrubs, wrapped in clean paper towels. She wants to go home, eat something greasy for dinner, have a shower and possibly cry herself to sleep. Billie nods in her friends direction, Trinity had been waiting for her permission to unlock the door, but as she pulls it open, her stomach drops because of course at that exact moment Jack and Robby are walking passed, and they come to an abrupt stop when they see the two women coming out of the handicapped toilet together. 

“Dr. Santos, Nurse Hayes.” Robby greets them, pulling off his glasses. “Do I even have to express how unprofessional it is for two members of staff to be seen coming out of the bathroom together?”  

Jack looks between the two of them, but Billie's not sure what he sees on either of their faces. She probably looks like she's just witnessed an act of terror with the amount of adrenaline running through her system after peeing on a couple of plastic sticks and Trinity, she knows, has the worst poker face Billie has ever seen. “Everything okay?” 

The two women share a quick look, trying to figure out some sort of lie to cover up what has actually just happened inside the bathroom. 

“I, uh, I…” Trinity stutters out, drawing three sets of eyes her way. “I have a rash! I wanted someone to look at it for me, but didn't want to take up a room on the floor so I asked Billie to check it out in the toilet for me. Won’t happen again, sorry.” 

Billie bites her lower lip as she watches the both of the men in front of her absorb Trinity’s words. Robby’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he drops his chin down into his chest, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, his tell tale sign of discomfort. Abbot, on the other hand, looks like he doesn't quite believe what he’s just heard, his gaze flickering between Billie and Trinity as they stand in front of him. 

“A rash?” Dr. Abbot questions, his tone dripping with disbelief.  

“A rash.” Billie confirms, nodding her head once. She can’t bring herself to look him in the eyes, and instead settles her gaze at the triangle of white t-shirt poking out from the neckline of his scrub top. 

“That’s the story you’re sticking with?” He asks.

“Yes. Yes it is.” She nods again, hating how he can see right through Trinity’s horrendous attempt at lying to the two men. 

“Anyway, we’re off the clock. We’re leaving now.” The female doctor interrupts, grabbing gently onto Billie’s elbow and leading her away from any further questioning from the guys, they both choose to ignore their amused expressions as they walk quickly away. 

Billie also chooses to ignore the fact that she’s walking away with a dipstick in her pocket that has the ability to change Jack’s life forever. 

“And so she returns.” A familiar deep voice comes from behind her, causing her to pause as she closes her locker. She doesn't even need to turn around to know who it is. “Enjoy your vacation time?” Jack asks. 

“Yeah, slept mostly.” It's not a lie, she tells herself. Billie had caught up on enough sleep, especially on the days after her nights spent in the club had left her bone tired. She sits on a bench, pulling up a foot at a time to tighten up her laces, she feels uncomfortable in his presence for the first time ever, unsure where to look and what to say. Especially considering she hadn't ever replied to the message he had sent to her on her first night in Rebel. At first, it was because she had been unsure what to say to him, but then anger had seeped into her. He had stopped the ‘thing’ between them, had kissed Samira - who knows, he might’ve even sent the message after being balls deep in her. That thought had deflated her, because who was she to judge, if they hadn’t of been interrupted then she definitely would’ve fucked Ricky in the dressing room. 

  Jack approaches her, coming to straddle the bench beside her, placing his cup of coffee between them as she switches foot. 

He clears his throat, “I messaged you.” 

“Yeah, I just needed a complete break, you know? I didn’t reply to any work messages.” She explains, tucking her bangs back behind her ears. 

“Right, work.” Jack’s tone is different, something she can't quite place as he brings one hand up to rub at his ear lobe, not quite comfortable now. 

Billie is uncomfortable too, for the first time she doesn't know how to exist around him. Doesn't know how to act when he sits so close to her - smelling like the soap she knows he has in his shower and the aftershave he wears to work along with the slightest hint of something that becomes ingrained in your clothes after a 12 hour shift. It's familiar and it sends a wave of heat to her gut like it always has. Clearing her throat, she stands, busying her hands with evening out the stethoscope hanging around her neck as she forces herself back to the new version of them.

 “I should head out there, the sooner rounds are done, the sooner you guys can head home, huh?” She keeps her tone light, not looking at him as she closes her locker.

“Yeah,” Jack pushes off the bench, coming round to follow behind her as she heads towards the door. He’s so close to her that she can still smell him, can still feel his warmth at her back. “Billie, I-”

He’s cut off as the door pushes open before they can reach it, and Robby’s familiar face appears in the gap. He hesitates when he sees Billie and Jack together, before making some decision mentally and stepping through the doorway and into the locker room with them, letting the door close gently behind him. 

“Heard on the rumour mill about your return.” Robby starts, “Welcome back.” 

“Thrilled to be back.” She replies sarcasm dripping from each word yet smiling up at the taller man, almost grateful he interrupted the weird tension between her and Jack. “Truely.” 

Robby smiles down at her, his eyes flickering between the two of them standing in front of him for a second, before he talks again, his words selected carefully. “Did you get that situation managed?” 

“Yes, I did. All good now, thanks!” She responds quickly, she didn’t want to have this conversation again with him, nevermind have it in front of Abbot. 

“You sure?” Robby checks.

“I figured it out, Robby, don’t worry about it.” 

“Figured what out?” Jack asks, taking half a step so he’s standing next to her rather than just behind her. His dark eyes piercing the side of her face where she’s currently refusing to look up at him. 

“I had a uh-” Billie swallows, unsure how to explain without giving him any real details. “Family situation before I went off. Dr. Robby here had the pleasure of overhearing a delightful phone call so that's how he knows. But like I said, it's handled. I took care of it. Let’s go save some lives instead of standing around discussing mines shall we?” 

She squeezes past Robby, leaving both the men in the locker room behind her, trying not to notice their pausing before following her. When she comes round the side of the nurses station, she makes eye contact with Trinity across the department, the other woman pauses from where she had been heading into a treatment room with Dennis by her side. It’s subtle, the raise of her chin, a silent way of asking if Billie’s okay. She returns the sentiment with one single nod of her head and a quick wink in the doctor's direction before finally getting back to work.

** 

She settles back into the ED department like she’s never been away, it’s like coming home she’d thought to herself at the end of her first shift back. More so than when she had gone back to the club, that had been muscle memory wrapped in her younger self’s struggles, whereas here, PTMC was who she was now. She knows how the Doctors work, has whatever they need ready before they even ask for it, relieved she didn’t lose her edge after 2 weeks away. 

  Billie gossips with Perlah and Princess at the coffee machine, catching up whilst pouring herself a cup of mediocre coffee. She doesn’t come right out and ask but they also never volunteer any news about Jack and Samira - it makes her wonder if they’re keeping it quiet for now or if it’s another casual thing for him. Either way she tries to not watch them when they’re in, keeps it professional with the both of them, which really means avoiding being assigned to help them when on shift with them.

Her first nightshift falls about 2 weeks after coming back to work, it’s not a dramatic shift - no mass casualties or traumas but a consistent flow of patients keep her and Jack apart until they’re in the final few hours of the shift. They’d just finished treating a head injury in the form of a freshly 21 fraternity bro who had fallen down his stairs after his first legal night out, when she notices it. 

Jack had ripped his gloves off, so it wasn’t an actual event, no attention intentionally drawn to it but she noticed it anyway. She’d been so used to seeing the contrast of his dark brushed metal wedding ring that the sudden lack of its presence was bound to catch her eye. 

He wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. 

It was finally gone. 

She swallowed, flustered in a way she didn’t know what to do with and busied herself by checking the patients obs yet again and taking note of them. She’d never seen him without the ring on, it was weird to see his bare sliver of skin just a few shades lighter than the rest of his skin tone. Billie wants to laugh at how ridiculous the whole situation seems - she fucks him for months and Samira kisses him publicly once and all of a sudden his ring is off. Of course it is. 

“Billie?” Dr. Abbots voice comes from her side, making her shift her focus back into the room. 

Right. Work. “Hmm?” She answers, looking away from the machines in front of her. 

“You’ve been staring at the machine for 2 minutes without blinking, you good?” 

“Yeah!” She replies, her tone sounding too fake to even her own ears. As she busies herself cleaning up some of the mess they had made cleaning their patient's wound, she can feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of her head. 

“Am I dead?” The frat boy groans dramatically from the trolley beside them, clearly starting to sober up with the liquids they were giving him through his IV to help flush the alcohol from his system. 

“No.” Billie tells him, her voice merging with Jack’s as they speak at the same time. 

“Am I dying?” Comes another exaggerated groan.

“No.” She bites back a smile, finally glancing in Dr. Abbot's direction when they chorus the reply together again. His mouth is ticked up at one side as he folds his thick forearms over his chest and he’s looking directly at her. She hates how easy it is for them to slip back into this with him again,. Normal. 

They leave the cubicle together, Jack taps something into the tablet he’d grabbed on his way out as he instructs her on the next plans for treatment for the patient they’d just left. Billie nods in understanding and starts to turn to leave him when his hand shoots out, gently grasping her forearm to stop her. 

“Are you sure everything’s okay? You’ve been different since you came back.” 

She looks up at his devastatingly handsome face, then when she feels his thumb slowly stroking over the skin where he’s still holding on to her, her eyes fall to his hand on her arm. That’s like a bucket of cold water being poured over her, because of course it’s his left hand he had reached out with, that bare ring finger now in much closer proximity than before. 

Jack must realise what she’s looking at, because his hand suddenly drops from her like she’s on fire and comes up towards his chest - his other hand coming up to rub at the space where his wedding band used to sit.

“Billie, we should talk. I-” He starts, taking a small step towards her, crowding into her personal space in a way he hasn’t done for weeks. Billie feels her breath catch at his close proximity. 

“Dr. Abbot, x-ray just came in for the patient in north 5. Can you take a look?” Bridget, one of the other night shift nurses, interrupts them before Jack can continue speaking. Billie flinches away from the man cursing herself for briefly allowing that wall of professionalism slip, especially in the hallway in the department. She takes a second to look up at him, watches his jaw clench before he blows out a frustrated breath.

For a second it almost looks like Jack is going to stay, try to finish this conversation he’s barely started with her, and that Billie is not prepared for. So, she clears her throat and takes a step back from him. “I need to go update frat boy’s friends, I put them in the family room when they got here.” 

She forces herself to turn and walk away, ignoring the way his mouth opens as if he’s about to speak again, and definitely doesn't look at his left hand as she does so.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” He smirks, approaching her. Before she can stop it, he's tucked her into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around her waist. She sinks into the familiarity of it, feeling like she’s stepped back in time, like she's 22 again. She doesn't know how to feel about that. “God, you got even more beautiful, how is that fair?” He comments when he pulls away, not entirely, hands still sitting on her hips, holding her close to him. From here she can see he has more grey in his beard than he did the last time she saw him. Not quite as salt and pepper as Jack, but going that way. Ricky’s not that much younger than Jack either, probably only a few years between them, if that. 

“Careful,” She replies dryly, “You sound like a customer.” 

“Least you already know I tip well.” He jokes back. 

He takes the bag off her shoulder, wrapping an arm loosely round her shoulders to lead her towards the dressing rooms like she doesn't know where she’s going. Those haven't changed much either, still light and bright with lots of mirrors and counter space. Showers tucked away round a corner with some toilet cubicles. Ricky takes the time to introduce her to some of the girls working with her, they seem frighteningly young and naive, but she probably had been too when she first started out in the game. 

Billie changes slowly at the station she had set up at. A teal two-piece, pleaser heels, make-up heavier than she wears anywhere now, hair down but heavily sprayed into place. The girls make conversation with her, they get to know each other on a basic level, they know she's not sticking around, that this is only a temporary situation but they also know about her past here - at one point she was like royalty in this club. 

  By the time she finishes, she barely recognises herself, slipping into her old persona. Billie presses her lips together, gloss making them plump and shiny, when Ricky reappears at her side, looking at her through the mirror.

“No pressure tonight, if you sneak out the backdoor after one set and never come back. I wont hold it against you. Much.” He says, taking a lock of her dark hair between two fingers and tugging slightly. 

“That’s not really how debt works, Ricky.” She jokingly reminds him. 

“Still.” He offers, coming to lean on the countertop, “you’ve got this, Bee. But if you don't, you don’t.”

Billie stands at the side of the stage, the bass from the song currently playing for one of the girls' sets vibrating in her chest. She watches the other woman collect the bills that had been thrown onto the stage during her dance, choosing to ignore the nervousness settling in. 

“Alright, it's now time for a Rebel living legend. She’s returned for a few special nights, to remind us all what we’ve been missing. Welcome back to the stage, Bambi!” The DJ calls out, using the stage name she had chosen at the ripe age of 21, when she had been young and innocent. 

 She steps out onto the stage to the opening bars of her song - ‘Sex Hysteria’ by Jessie Murph. She feels herself transform as she walks out onto the catwalk stage, her muscle memory returning as soon as her fingers touch the cool metal pole. She feels it gradually, that Bambi persona slipping back into place as she moves. Confident, controlled, measured movements around the pole as she spins, lifts herself or shows off some of the flexibility she had gained from years on the pole previously. The kind of persona that demands attention, and always gets what she wants. God help her, she’s still fucking good at this. She performs like she did years ago, not focusing on faces in the audience, but aware of them settling forward in their seats, arms reaching out to throw money her way. Some of the closer ones are lucky, fingertips managing to graze her skin when they get to tuck cash into her waistband or top, never lingering though - they know better, Ricky runs a tight ship, always has done. 

  Billies is sweating slightly and out of breath by the time the song finishes, but she feels alive, buzzing with adrenaline and the feeling of being so wanted by all these strangers. She collects her money from the stage and heads back towards the dressing room again, rolling her eyes with a smile on her face as Ricky stands at the side, clapping for her when she steps down. 

**

She dances another 3 sets for the night, but refuses any private dance requests, not quite back to that comfort level yet. But still by closing time with muscles aching in a way they haven't done in a long time, she has an envelope full of cash, fat enough to make a dent in her mom’s debt. It’s only her first night and she's scheduled for another 3, so Billie feels relief so deep in knowing that she’s definitely going to make enough money to wipe the slate clean for her mother, and still have enough leftover to add a significant amount back into her own savings account. 

She takes her time showering, cleaning off the sweat, glitter and make-up then stands at her station, watching as the other girls start filtering out for the night, saying quiet goodbyes. Eventually it's just her left, she’s in no rush to get home and probably isn't as exhausted as the young ones now she’s got the experience of regular ED night shifts.  

“You did good out there.” Ricky’s voice comes from the doorway as he enters, carrying a couple of bottles of water. When he reaches her, he places one in front of her before taking a drink of his own. “Think half of them fell in love with you.” 

“Lust, not love.” She corrects him, turning to lean on the counter to face him. 

“Hm, same thing.” He replies smoothly, watching her.

They’ve always had a level of comfort between them, and tonight it settles even after several years without any contact. Ricky has seen Billie at her best and at her worst. Had picked her up when he had found her crying in his office when she had been struggling with the balance of studying, practicals and her mother when she was in college. Had been the one to throw her a leaving party when she got her first real job in a hospital. She’s always felt safe with him, safe enough to have ended up in his bed regularly over the years. 

“You still got it, Bambi.” He reaches out, thumb stroking her cheek for a second. “But you were always too good for this place.” 

His gaze lifts to hers, and the room shifts so it feels smaller and like there's suddenly less air. “You carried the room tonight.” He murmurs, stepping closer. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She replies quietly. 

“Liar.” Is all Ricky says, leaning down towards her. “Tell me to stop.” 

She should, really, but Billie can't find it in herself to say the words. This is easy, uncomplicated, stepping into something she knows and trusts. Instead, she presses into him, winding her arms around his neck to pull him down towards her, placing her lips on his. Ricky still kisses like it's the last thing he’ll do, his whole body behind it, warm and familiar. He manoeuvres them backwards, before gripping her hips to lift her onto the countertop, drifting his lips down her neck as she fists his shirt. His hands move down, holding onto her knees to part her legs, stepping into the space it makes so he can press fully against her. Then his hands start slipping up her thighs, underneath the small robe she had put on after her shower. His knuckles graze the soft skin at the crease where thigh meets hip, and she lets out something that sounds like a whimper, but he doesn't stop, hands continuing up to undo the belt holding her robe closed around her body. 

Ricky pulls back, leaning his forehead against Billies as he pushes the sides of the robe open, baring her to him. She hadn't bothered putting anything on underneath, had every intention of throwing on her sweats and leaving, but now, he was looking down at her like he had just struck gold. Billie brings her own hands to his waistband, starting to undo his belt buckle, as he continues to watch her. 

*BANG*

The dressing room door opens just as she’s lowering his zipper, the noise startles both of them. But thankfully Ricky is standing in front of her and as the person walks in he covers her body with his own, glaring angrily over his shoulder at whoever interrupted them. 

“What the fuck, Ben?” He scolds the man who is now frozen in the doorway, eyes flicking between them taking in the scene before him with his mouth open in shock.

“Sorry, I, shit! I didn’t - the cash!” The man stutters, clearly not knowing where to look. Nearly as mortified as Billie is herself.

“Get out!” Ricky yells over him, waiting until the door closes behind him before pulling away from Billie's body, helping her to pull her robe back over her. “Fuck, I’m sorry, that was -”

“Bad timing, but probably a good interruption?” Billie provides, knowing that the disturbance whilst unwanted has probably just stopped them from doing something she would probably think was a mistake when the dust settled and the adrenaline from the night wore off. 

Ricky breathes out a laugh as he does his pants and belt up again, “Night one and you’re already trying to get into my pants, Billie.” 

“You fucking wish.” She laughs back at his joke, thankful it's always this easy between them. No hurt feelings because she admitted nearly fucking him wasn’t a smart idea. “I’m going to head home, you should go see what our peeping Tom wants.” 

“See you tomorrow night, Bambi.” He grins down at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek before leaving her in the quiet of the dressing room again. 

She grabs her phone alongside her overnight bag from her locker, quickly checking her messages. There's a couple from Trinity wishing her luck, then follow up messages asking about how it was going and how many skeezy men had hit on her. But then there's another one unopened, only sent an hour ago - from someone clearly on the nightshift. 

Jack Abbot - How's that vacation going so far?

Billie hesitates for a second, before hitting the call button and closes her eyes as it rings, once, twice.

“Well, well.” A familiar, gravelly tone answers. “Have I finally gone crazy or is my favourite little Bee calling me after all this time?” 

“Hi, Ricky.” She exhales slowly through her nose.

“Fuck me sideways, it is you. Still alive out there kid?” He sounds genuinely shocked, but thrilled to hear from her. It fills her with a weird satisfaction, knowing he would have wanted to hear from her, even after all this time. 

“Barely.” She replies honestly, looking down at her scrub pants, mindlessly picking at a loose thread. “Surviving anyways.”

Ricky’s warm laugh fills the line, which brings memories to the forefront of her mind. Music vibrating through the walls of the club, drinks flowing in the dressing room, Ricky in the background, checking on his girls before they went on stage. Him tucking extra cash into her waistband when she danced for him alone. 

“I hear you’re still a fancy nurse, Bee. Good for you.” 

She hums down the line, unsure of herself now. 

“But I'm guessing you didn't call me for the sake of catching up with an old friend.” 

“No.” She replies after a beat, admiring the way he’s still straight to the point. 

“You need work.” It's not a question, but rather, a statement. He knows exactly why she would be calling after years of no contact, probably knew the second her name flashed on his screen.

“Temporarily.” Billie starts, “My mom, again. Same shit, just a different day, Ricky. I can’t get in front of it this time. I need the money quicker than what the hospital pays, and even then, it's not enough.” 

“And you remembered when you used to walk outta my club with 3 months rent money in one night?” Ricky replies, not sounding surprised. He knew her mom, knew her history, had probably assumed that this would happen eventually. 

“Something like that.” She laughs humourlessly. “You got any openings?”

“Bee, that's never a question for you. Hell, if I went and told the regulars you were thinking ‘bout coming back, I’d have a line round the block waiting.”

“Ricky.” She draws out, rolling her eyes at him.

“I’m serious, you were one of the best. Broke a lot of hearts when you left.” 

“You still stock the dressing room with the good snacks?” Billie asks quietly. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She’s glad he doesn’t push, ask her if she’s sure about this. “I’ll send you some dates?” 

“I’ll make it work.” 

**

The ED smells like coffee and antiseptic when Billie makes her way to the nurses station at the start of her shift, her coffee in one hand and paperwork in the other. She smiles when she sees Dana at the desk, already looking up at the boards. 

“Just who I was looking for,” She says casually, handing over the paperwork, “Need you to approve some PTO for me.” 

Dana glances down at the paperwork, pulling on her glasses to be able to read it properly. “You taking some time off? Voluntarily? You feeling alright kid?” 

“Funny.” She replies, still smiling at her senior.

“Two weekends? That's suspiciously specific.” 

Billie tilts her head, thinking of some reason she could be asking for the time off on short notice, but before she can reply a form appears over Dana’s shoulder, glancing down at the forms in her hand. It's Jack, of course, who looks unfairly attractive after having just finished up a nightshift. He's got 2 coffees in his hand and she wonders if one is for Samira, bitterly, as she sips on her own, pretending not to notice as Jack’s eyes flick up to her, watching her movement with an unreadable expression.

“Taking a vacation?” He asks, coming to stand at the side of her and Dana. 

“Yeah, just taking a few days.” She replies.

“You never take PTO. Everything okay?” 

“‘M fine, maybe I’m just evolving.” She jokes, trying to deflect.

Dana snorts, leaning over to sign the forms and handing them back to her. “Miracles do happen. Approved.” 

“Thanks Dana, I appreciate it.” Billie takes the forms, turning with the intention of getting as far away from Jack as she can, hoping he’ll leave for home soon. 

“Seriously though, you sure you’re okay?” Jack asks her before she can slip away.

She looks at him, making eye contact for the first time since he had casually ended their relationship. He’s obviously not shaved in a few days, stubble the same colour as his hair growing over his lower face and down onto his neck. She hates that she notices it. “I’m great.” She replies tensely, quickly walking away before he can talk again, pretending not to notice as he and Dana watch her leave. 

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Billie blinked, she had still been too busy looking around the bar to see who had approached her. He was handsome, tall, hair cropped short, piercing green eyes which were focused on her own as he stood behind the seat next to her, one hand braced on the back of it as the other held onto a bottle of beer. 

“Not for now.” She replied politely, watching as he pulled out the stool and effortlessly slid onto it, turning his body towards her. 

“I’m Nate.” 

“Billie.” 

“Billie. That’s pretty. Is it short for something?” Nate asks after taking a drink from the bottle.

“Nope, my mom just really wanted a boy.” Billie replies, only half joking but smiling as he chuckles.

“Well, Billie. Are you waiting for company? Or would you like some?” 

As if on cue, Trinity walks through the door at that very second, the women make eye contact and it's almost as if they have a whole conversation with that one look. She sees Santos look at Nate, next to her, too close to just be a stranger at the bar and narrows her eyes, trying to decipher if she needed to come over and interrupt. But when she glances back at Billie, sees her relaxed posture, drinks in front of her, Trinity obviously decides she doesn't need to run interference and instead motions to a table near the window that had just been cleared. 

  Billie slips off of the seat, and starts grabbing the drinks she had ordered and had opened a tab for. 

“My friend just got here. Thanks for the offer though, enjoy your night.” 

“Wait-” Nate stops her, his hand coming to rest on her forearm to stop her walking away from him. “How about you take my number? We could maybe meet up later?” 

Billie’s eyes drop down to where his hand is still resting on her arm. Not aggressive, not possessive, just resting there. She looks up at him, he’s almost annoyingly attractive with his kind eyes and easy smile. For a split second she debated it, feeling the heat of temptation. Under different circumstances, she would’ve said yes to him, taken his number, text him at the end of her night and gone home with him. Before Jack, and whatever the fuck they had had, it wasnt unusual for her to indulge in a one night stand. She liked sex, liked uncomplicated sex even better. 

  But even as she stood there, the image of Jack and Mohan kissing burned into her retinas for what she felt like would be forever, she couldn’t take this man up on his offer. 

She looks at Santos, who Billie can tell is fully pretending to not watch them whilst obviously watching them. Then looks back to the man in front of her. “Nice meeting you, Nate.” 

She walks past him, hearing his goodbye following her but doesn't look back. Honestly, she doesn't trust herself too. Once she reaches the table that Trinity chose, she places down the drinks on the table and takes the seat opposite the Doctor.

“Did you just willingly turn down hot bar guy?” The brunette asks her, already reaching for her tall glass and sipping it.

Billie rolls her eyes at the other woman, then distracts her by asking about her shift. They hadn't had many cases that day that overlapped, so they chatted about work, patients, relaxing together after yet another shift. 

“So, what’s going on with you and Dr. Abbot?” Santos eventually questions her, leaning her chin on her hand, elbow resting on the table between her. “Things seem….different between you guys.” 

She’s glad she had just finished her drink, nothing but ice left in her glass, the buzz of the vodka already in her veins, helping her hide the flinch. That's definitely not a topic she wants to talk about tonight, and thankfully she knows what will derail the conversation.

“You want to talk about what’s going on with you and Garcia?” Billie returns, tilting her head to one side. 

“Okay.” The word is drawn out, Trinity starts standing. “Another round?” 

She laughs, liking that she was able to get the woman who was normally like a dog with a bone to evade something. Billie watches her walk to the bar, her eyes meeting Nate’s as she does so, he’s moved back to his group of friends now, laughing with them. Nice guy. Wrong night. 

Somewhere in between drinks 4 and 5 - one of them thinks it's a smart idea to get tequila shots to compliment the vodka. Billie knows as soon as she swallows it that it's definitely not a smart idea, and thanks the rota gods she’s not scheduled to work for another couple of days, she might have recovered from the hangover she knows she’ll have in the morning by then. Eventually the feel of the bar changes too as it gets late, the music louder but the lights dimmer. Her and Trinity laugh, gossip, criticize in a way they rarely get the chance to do. It's fun, cathartic. Their conversation takes a turn at one point, and Billie finds herself confiding in Dr. Santos in a way she didn’t know she needed. Explains to her about her mom, the debt, her guilt in not being able to help and the pressure she feels from her mother to fix it all like she has in the past. 

“How much?” Santos asks, watching her carefully from across the table. Not judging, just watching.

Billies pause is obviously too long to provide any comfort, and she winces when the other woman says her name, prompting her. “ A lot.” 

“How much is a lot?” 

When Billie replies with a number, she watches as Trinity nearly chokes on her drink, coughing out. “Jesus fucking christ.” 

Neither woman talks for a second, letting Billie’s confession settle between them. 

“Do you have it?” 

Again, Billie hesitates, “Some of it. Not all of it.” She admits, the same way she had done to Robby. But this time she decides to acknowledge what had been going round in a loop in her head since her phone call with her mom, admitting. “But I can get it.” 

Trinity scoffs, not believing her. “How? By robbing a fucking bank?” 

“No. By stripping.” She replies dryly. Billie brings her glass up to her lips, takes a sip as she watches Trinity who has paused, obviously unsure if she's joking or not. “I used to dance. It’s how I paid for nursing school, and put food on the table. It was easy, I didn’t need to work 3 jobs to support us, I could balance it with classes. Once I graduated I didn't need to do it as much, but I haven't been to the club since way before I started at PTMC. I didn't need to, you know?” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” Billie questions.

“You seem disappointed I’m not scandalized.” Trinity remarks.

She laughs at that, “It’s not usually the response I get when I tell them I used to take my clothes off for money.” 

“Billie, you paid for school by weaponising men who have too much disposable income. Iconic behaviour.” she raises a glass, almost toasting towards Billie. “But seriously? You did what you had to do. There’s no judgement for that.” 

“It’s not even the dancing part that bothers me,” Billie admits to her, feeling relieved to finally have someone to talk to about this. “It’s the going backwards. I thought I was done with that, thought I’d become someone better. That I didn't need to survive like that ever again. But it’s my mom, you know?”

Truthfully, although she’s incredibly proud of her career path now, proud to be as good a nurse as she is. She misses it sometimes. Not the men, or the late nights. But the control it gave her. The money. The confidence of walking onto that stage and knowing she had all eyes on her, knew how to command their attention. She’d been good at it, very good at it - had probably been the first thing in her life she had succeeded at. Which was weirdly heartbreaking for her to admit to herself. 

“Who else knows?” Santos asks, breaking her train of thought.

“Dana.” She explains, “Robby knows something's up, but he doesn’t know the full story. I want to keep it that way. You might not, but other people look at me differently for it, changes how they see me.” Not that it matters now, but Billie wonders how Jack would look at her if he knew, and yet again feels the ugly head of jealousy rear itself as she compares herself to Samira. Sweet, kind, innocent Samira who had probably never had to worry about shaking her ass in the face of strangers so they could slip a bill into her waistband. Maybe this whole thing was a sign, a sign her and Jack were definitely meant to be over, so she wouldn't need to justify going back to the club to make some extra cash. 

Trinity nods, reaching out to place a hand over hers “I support you whatever. You do what you need to do.” 

For the first time since that dreadful phone call with her mom, Billie feels the pressure in her chest ease slightly. 

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