#equallibrium

it's not the first time she's helped him through a full moon, she's helped him enough that she's lost count honestly. tonight was just the first time it seemed to backfire so spectacularly for her. she tried to help when she thought the wolf was injured, which led to her getting injured. claw marks on her side as she stumbled away from the wolf and back out of the room.

she was already weaker, self inflicted in a way. she's fallen back into not feeding so the second she's out of the room, she's struggling a little. slumping to the floor she clenches a hand over her side. she's never been injured by a wolf before, doesn't know if it's the effects of being hurt by one or how her lack of being fed will effect her.

sometime through the night she pulls her sweater off, pressing it against her side as she covers her mouth, trying not to draw attention to herself. she can hear as the night gives way to day, the way the wolf settles, can hear frank return to himself. and she pushes herself forward, half crawling as she tries to get up, pushing through the door. "frank..." fuck everything hurts. "hey... you're okay." she assures him, same as she always does, though she looks maybe a little worse than him right now.

she lowers her hand that keeps her sweater pressed against her side. "i need... i can't use my magic. i need help. i need to eat." she knows what she's asking, especially now after everything he just went through but she's running out of options, and time. "frank... please, i wouldn't ask if i didn't need help."

Robby knew it would be out of the blue. He knew that it might have Frank questioning what the hell was wrong with him. But in that moment, he was seeking comfort and it seemed to him like the other needed it too. It had been a tough day in the Pitt and he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if a few tears were shed. Finding Frank in one of the rooms, he’d called to him before wrapping his arms around him, forehead against his shoulder.

Send me 👌 if your muse would bang mine.

Well, that was certainly a choice for making an entrance...

Carter blinked up at the other man, slowly taking his stethoscope from his ears. "Uhh, do you really have to tell me that kind of thing now? I'm with a patient..."

God, was Frank strung out? Did he even know who he was talking to? At least the patient wasn't Myrna...

After sparing the gobsmacked woman an apologetic glance, Carter excused himself, then took Frank by the shoulder and guided him out toward a neighboring hallway.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked, his brows pinching together. "'Cause I'll be the first to admit, when I felt like I was drowning, I developed an unhealthy attachment to my sponsor...but she was smart. She knew we'd drag each other down, were things to get muddy between us. Objectivity is important, okay? It may not feel like it, but it is."

x

"I'm not fighting you." Pain radiated through her temple, everything in her holding back the urge to laugh the whole thing off, wince away the trauma of whatever humiliation ritual she was being put through. The fact of the matter was that she was on shift, and a little knock to the ground wasn't going to stop that -- Even if her head had managed to somehow whack itself against the linoleum flooring during the impact.

And sure, maybe the real horror of it all was that she'd had a witness to the spectacular failure, but Langdon really wasn't making this any easier to forget.

"Your hair grows so fast. I'm jealous I wish my hair was this crazy after a few weeks." Abby jokes as she carefully moves to fix his hair. She gets all the pieces in place and smoothes them down. Once she's done she leans up enough to bridge the gap between them and gives him a peck on the lips.

"I'll see if I can find my sheers after I put Penny down for her morning n-a-p." Abby had to spell it out because Penny was sitting playing just a few feet over. If she heard that word now she'd start throwing her pre-nap fit before she's even had lunch. Don't worry we'll get you cleaned up, baby."

Send 🍆 to send my muse a very intentional nude

Robby leaned against the table top of his desk, tired eyes glaring at the terminal screen as he badged in to finish the charting he had been running behind on. Another night of taking his work home with him. He hated the idea of another late night hunched over a screen, he hated Gloria's constant pestering more.

*Ping*

Robby reached into his pocket to grab his phone, eyes never leaving the screen of his computer as he unlocked the screen. He finished the last line of text before glancing down to see it was Frank that had texted him, he glanced up over the edge of his glasses to see the doctor in question offering a coy look in his direction as he lounged back in his seat.

"Couldn't come over here and tell me what you wanted to say?" He asked with a soft laugh, opening the message and...

Robby slammed his phone down face first onto the desk top, eyes snapping back to Frank with wide eyes. "You little shit." He mused with a breathy laugh, peeking at the image once more feeling his heart beat kick up.

{txt: Frank}

> supply closet now.

continued from here {x}

Jack doesn’t hear the door at first. The light barely registers, just a thin slice cutting through the dark, but it doesn’t reach him. He’s still curled in on himself, hand clamped hard over his leg, breath coming in sharp, broken pulls that don’t quite make it all the way in. The pain is still there, still real, still tearing through him like it never stopped.

But the voice gets through. Not all at once, not clean, just fragments cutting through the noise in his head. His head jerks slightly, like he’s trying to track it, but his eyes don’t quite focus yet. Safe doesn’t mean anything when his body is still convinced it’s happening again. “—no—” Jack chokes out, voice rough, barely there. His grip tightens reflexively. “Not—” The rest breaks off into a strained breath, chest heaving, shoulders shaking with it.

The voice comes again, closer now, steady. Jack blinks hard, once, then again, vision stuttering as it tries to catch up. The edges of the room start to push back in, faint and distorted, the shape of the door, the outline of someone just inside it. The Pitt. The words echo back slower this time, dragging him with them.

He sucks in a sharper breath, one that actually reaches his lungs, even if it stutters on the way out. His head drops forward slightly, forehead pressing back against the wall as he fights to follow it, to hold onto something real. “…hospital,” he manages, voice scraped raw, like he’s testing it. His hand doesn’t leave his leg, but it loosens just a fraction, fingers trembling instead of crushing. Another breath, still uneven, still too fast. “…yeah,” Jack forces out after a second, not looking up yet, but more present than he was a moment ago. Not steady. But not gone either.