#jackabbott

The help that wasn't wanted 

Chapter 9: 

He’d tell it later like it was nothing. Like the kind of thing that just… happened. But in the moment, it wasn’t nothing. The fire escape groaned the second his weight hit it metal screaming in that sharp, warning way that every instinct in his body recognized too late. “Go, go move!” Abbott barked, already pushing the last of his team through the third-story window ahead of him, smoke pouring out behind them, heat licking up the sides of the building. He stepped back onto the fire escape, one hand bracing the railing—just for a second and then it gave. The whole thing collapsed. Metal tore loose from brick. His boots slipped. And then he was falling. Not far enough to kill him but far enough. He hit the lower platform hard, shoulder first, the impact jarring up his spine, knocking the air clean out of his lungs. Pain shot through his arm instantly, sharp and bright, something wrong in the joint that he didn’t have time to think about. His back scraped across rusted metal, fabric tearing, skin catching, heat still clinging to everything. “Abbott!” someone shouted. “I’m good,” he snapped back automatically, and kinda winded, even as he pushed himself up with his good arm, jaw clenched so tight it ached. “Keep moving” And they did because he didn’t give them another option. He stayed in it. Cleared rooms. Broke down doors. Took hits he shouldn’t have taken and ignored the way his arm refused to fully cooperate, the way every movement pulled something deeper out of place. Another teammate had to shift to cover his side. He noticed that, cataloged it, tucked it away but he didn’t stop. He never stopped. Not until it was over.

By the time they got him into the car, the adrenaline had worn just enough to make everything worse. “You need an ambulance,” one of them said, glancing at his shoulder again, at the way it sat just slightly off. “I’m not calling it in,” Abbott shot back, leaning his head against the window for half a second before forcing himself upright again. “Drive.”... “You can’t just” … “I said drive.” And they did. Because that tone didn’t leave room for argument. The ER doors slid open like any other night. No heads-up. No prep. No chaos waiting for him. Just the hum of a normal shift. Abbott walked in alone and for a second just a second it almost felt like he could keep it that way. Until… “Dr. Abbott?” Kit of course it was Kit. Her voice caught him before anything else did, cutting through the noise like it always did, and when he looked up, she was already moving toward him, eyes scanning, taking him in too quickly, too carefully and then her expression changed. “What happened?” she asked, already at his side, already reaching for him before she could stop herself. “Nothing,” he said easily. Too easily. “It’s fine.”... “It’s not fine,” she shot back immediately, her hand hovering near his arm before finally settling lightly against it, testing, careful. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I don’t care.” That stopped him. Just for a second. Long enough for her to guide him toward a bed, her hand firm now, no hesitation in it. “Sit.” patting the bed  “I can take care of it—” Say it again “Sit.” And something in the way she said it was sharp, controlled, just this side of anger made him listen. Barely. He lowered himself onto the bed with a tight exhale, trying not to show how much it pulled at his shoulder. She noticed anyway of course she did. “Can you lift your arm?” she asked, already grabbing supplies, already moving like she’d done this a thousand times. He tried, but it didn't go well. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s fine.”... “That’s not fine,” she said again, softer this time, but no less firm. She stepped closer, eyes flicking over the cuts along his face, the scrape along his jaw, the blood dried into the collar of his shirt. “I need to see your shoulder.”

“I can—”

“You can’t,” she cut in, already reaching for the hem of his shirt. “You physically cannot, so stop pretending like you can.” There was a beat. A charged one and then she started cutting. The fabric gave easily under the scissors, falling away in pieces, exposing skin that was already bruising, already marked with shallow cuts and scrapes across his chest, his shoulder, his back where she could see it. And suddenly she was very aware of how close she was too close. Her fingers brushed his skin as she worked, careful, clinical—but not entirely steady. Heat crept up her neck, into her face, the awareness of him overwhelming in a way she hadn’t expected. Abbott felt it too. That shift, tension. The way her hands lingered just a second too long before pulling away. The way his breath caught was not from pain. Something else, something worse, he absolutely did not need. “You don’t have to—” he started, voice rougher now. “I do,” she said quickly, not looking at him. “You’re my patient right now.” still trying to work on him “That’s not… “Stop.” That did it. She lifted her hand and stepped away taking off her gloves to prove a point. The argument came fast after that because he couldn’t just sit there. Couldn't just let her take care of him. “I said I’ve got it,” he snapped, trying to push himself up, immediately regretting it when his shoulder screamed in protest “And I said you don’t,” she shot back, stepping in front of him, blocking him from moving. “You can’t even lift your arm, Abbott.” she snapped at him “I’ve handled worse than this alone.” in a low grown of pain  “Yeah? And how’s that working out for you right now?” He didn’t answer, and he didn't like the answer to that question. Didn’t like the way she was looking at him—like she saw right through it Through him “I don’t need you to—” she then reached for a new pair of gloves  “Well, I’m here anyway,” she snapped, frustration bleeding through now, something deeper under it that neither of them wanted to name. “So maybe just let me do my job for once instead of fighting me on everything.” That hit harder than it should have. Neither of them said anything. Then she stepped back one more time. Too abrupt and final. “Fine,” she muttered, dropping the gauze back onto the tray. “Do it yourself.” throwing the gloves at him  and she walked out.

Abbott sat there for a long second, alone. The shirt was cut off. Shoulder hanging wrong. Blood is still drying along his skin, and for the first time that night, he didn’t feel in control. Robby didn’t knock when he came in. He just walked in, took one look at the situation, and sighed like he’d been expecting it. “You’re an idiot,” he said simply. Abbott let out a short breath. “Not now…” Abbot said, "No, actually, now is perfect,” Robby shot back, crossing his arms. “Because what the hell was that?” Abbot tries to interrupt “I don’t need—” but it doesn't work. “She’s the one taking care of you,” Robby cut him off, voice sharp now. “And you just talked to her like that?” Abbott looked away, Jaw tight. “If a patient spoke to one of your nurses like that,” Robby continued, stepping closer, “you’d be on them in a second, yelling at them for the way they were speaking. So what makes you any different?” That landed because he didn’t have an answer.“Fix it, I don't care how, or I will.” Taking a beat, “and if you talk to her again, I swear to god I will come in here myself and break your other arm and let Dana watch,” furious at him . “Plus, I know you have a thing for her, and I am not letting you ruin it,” Robby finally said, walking out the door so only Abbot could hear him. 

By the time Brendon Park came down to pop his shoulder back into place, Abbott had gone quiet. Not the usual kind of quiet—controlled, observant, calculating. This was different, Still. His head tipped slightly forward, eyes unfocused like he wasn’t entirely in the room anymore, jaw tight as he replayed Robby’s words whether he wanted to or not. The echo of it sat heavy in his chest. Fix it. Like it was that easy. Like he knew how. Park barely spared him more than a glance as he walked in, already pulling on gloves like this was routine because with Abbott, it kind of was. “You’re still doing this shit?” Park sighed, not even bothering to hide the judgment. Abbott huffed out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh slipping through despite everything. “Apparently.” Park muttered “Yeah,” stepping closer, his eyes dropping to Abbott’s shoulder, assessing the slight misalignment, the way he was holding himself just a little too carefully. “Apparently.” There was a beat. Then, under his breath “Idiot.” Abbott didn’t argue. Didn’t have it in him this time. Park reached for his arm, firm but not unkind, fingers pressing along the joint, testing range, finding the exact point where everything sat wrong. Abbott’s muscles tensed on instinct, breath pulling tight in his chest. “This is going to hurt,” Park said, almost lazily but there was precision in the way he adjusted his grip, positioning him just right. “I know,” Abbott started But Park didn’t wait, Didn’t count down. Didn’t give him the chance to brace. He just did a sharp, controlled movement quick and exact and then a sickening pop as the joint slid back into place. The sound echoed louder than it should have. Abbott’s breath hitched, a low, involuntary exhale forcing its way out as the pain spiked and then just as quickly shifted. Not gone. Never gone. But different. Manageable. The deep, wrong pressure easing just enough to let him breathe again. His head dropped forward slightly, eyes closing for half a second as the tension drained out of his shoulders in slow increments. “Yeah,” Park said, stepping back like he’d just fixed a loose hinge instead of a dislocated joint. “That’ll do it.” Abbott rolled his shoulder cautiously, testing it, wincing at the lingering soreness but already trying to pretend it was nothing. “Try not to dislocate it again tonight,” Park added dryly, already turning away, already done with the whole situation. Abbott let out a quiet breath, flexing his fingers once before settling his arm back at his side. “No promises.” Park paused at the door just long enough to roll his eyes. “Of course not,” he muttered. But then he glanced back just for a second longer than necessary. Something softer there. Something that said take it easy without actually saying it. Then it was gone. And just like that he was out of the room. Leaving Abbott alone again, with the dull ache in his shoulder and, unfortunately alone with his own thoughts.

Robby didn’t let it end there. He found Kit halfway down the hall, hovering near the nurse’s station doing some charting so she could take a breather. Her arms were crossed tight over her chest, fingers digging into her sleeves, eyes fixed on nothing in particular but he could see it all over her face. The frustration and embarrassment,  Something softer underneath it that she clearly didn’t want to look at too closely. “Hey,” Robby said, gentler than usual. She didn’t answer right away. Just let out a quiet breath. “I’m not going back in there.” shaking her head. “Yeah,” he nodded, like he expected that. “You are.” She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Did you not just see how that went?” she stopped typing at this point  “I did,” he said simply. “And I think you’re taking it a little too personally.” That made her look at him in disbelief , disgust or disappointment that he said that to her. “He was being an ass, Robby.” she quickly replied  “Yeah,” he agreed easily. “He was.” That threw her off. That he doesn't have Abbot back. She blinked. “Okay… so why am I the one going back in there?” now she was questioning everything “Because,” Robby said, leaning his shoulder against the counter beside her, lowering his voice just enough that it felt like something meant only for her, “that’s not actually about you.” She didn’t look convinced. “He gets like that,” Robby continued. “When he’s hurt. When he’s not in control. When he can’t just push through something the way he normally does.” Robby now looks at her trying to see what she is thinking.  “He didn’t have to take it out on me,” she said,  “No,” Robby agreed again. “He didn’t. And I already told him that.” Her brows pulled together slightly. “You did?” Robby snickered, “Oh, yeah,” he huffed. “Pretty sure I called him out on his bullshit behavior and someone not so nice stuff” That earned the smallest flicker of a smile from her. “Look,” he added, softening a little more, “Abbott can be… a lot. You’ve seen that. He’s sharp, he’s stubborn, and when he’s in that headspace, he doesn’t always filter it.” while crossing his arm  “That’s a nice way of saying he’s mean,” she muttered.

Robby shrugged. “Sometimes he is.” There was a beat. “But he doesn’t mean it,” he said after a second. Kit looked at him again, searching this time trying to see if he was up to something and secretly wanting to make her life miserable or not.  “He’s used to taking care of everyone else,” Robby explained. “Being the one in control, the one who fixes things. The second that flips, the second he’s the one on the table… he hates it. And instead of just saying that like a normal person, he—” he gestured toward Abbot room, “—does that.” She let out a quiet breath, some of the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “He shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” Robby added. “You didn’t deserve that. But don’t confuse him being bad at handling his own shit with you doing something wrong.” Her throat tightened slightly at that. “ Ok fine I will go back there but why choose me? why are you harping on me to do it?”  The part she hadn’t said out loud. “ because you already started with that mess I don't want to throw someone else into the shit hole” Robby replied “I wasn’t—” she started, then stopped, shaking her head. “I just… I was trying to help. I wasn't the one to make the shit hole ” pointing in that general area “I know,” Robby said. “And you did.” She frowned. “Didn’t feel like it.” Then he cut her off  “That’s because he’s an idiot,” Robby said again, easy, but then his tone shifted just enough to matter. “But you’re a good nurse, Kit. A really good one.” She stilled and he continued. “You saw what he needed, you stepped in, you took control of the situation—even when he was pushing back. That’s not easy. Especially with someone like him.” Her eyes dropped for a second, processing that. “Why are you kissing my ass so much, you are never like this” She swallowed worried that he was going to get yelled at for the way she said it but she didn't know how else to say it and too much, probably. “Give him a little grace,” Robby said after a moment. “Not because he deserves a free pass but because you’re going to see that side of him again. And if you take it personally every time, it’s going to wear you down and it will make you a better nurse” She nodded slowly. “And give yourself some too,” he added, softer now. “You handled that better than most people would’ve.” For a second, neither of them said anything and where just looking at eachother, kit saying in her head what the fuck. Then Robby nudged his head toward the room. “Great it looks like Dr. Park just left and he's in there trying to put on a shirt like it’s his first day with arms,” he said dryly. “So… maybe go save him from himself.” That pulled a real smile out of her this time. “Okay,” she said. She turned toward the room and paused at the door to see what he was trying to do and then she stepped inside.

Abbott was trying and failing to pull on a clean shirt with one arm. She didn’t say anything at first.

Just walked over. Took the shirt from him. “Stop,” she said quietly And this time he did. “Can I finish cleaning your wound first before we put the shirt on?” before looking at the shirt and seeing how it was an over shirt that would be hard to get into “do you have another shirt?” Abbot looked at her hand and said “no” then she looked at him and realized he was shirtless again and got bothered about it “do you have one in your locker?” asking while she was turning pink in the cheeks and Abbot see this stand up and look at her and take one step closer to her “i dont know let me go check” before slipping out and going to his locker and he knew he had one in there he always does and by the time he came back kit was talking to Gabbie in the hallway still holding my shirt “can i take that now” now shirtless, hand out for my shirt in front of both of them she both stood there for a sec speechless and Gabbie quickly said “I am going to check in on my patients now” before speed walking away then kit gave me my shirt back “ok miss kennedy let clean these quickly” She helped him get cleaned up and get all the Debris out of the cuts. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. She paused. Just for a second not feeling the q-tip on his forehead 

“I didn’t mean to be… mean to you,” he added, voice low. “I was—”...  “Mad,” she finished for him.

“Yeah.” he slowly said “At yourself,” she said. He huffed a small laugh. “Yeah.” She nodded, adjusting the fabric over his shoulder. “You’re still an ass.” he quickly responded “Fair.” she was moving to a new spot on his chest and there was a beat. Then “Why do you do this?” she asked. He looked at her. She stopped working on his wound so she could see too “My therapist told me I needed a hobby,” he said lightly. “Something active.” Her expression didn’t change.“That’s your hobby?” she asked flatly. “Breaking into burning buildings, getting shot at?” with no hesitation. “It’s not that bad.” she shot back “It is that bad,” frustration slipping through again. “You should think about a new hobby, because this one feels like a death sentence waiting to happen.” He didn’t argue, didn't joke, just watched her. As she continued to work not wanting to ruin the moment  “You don’t get burnt out?” she added, softer now. “Doing all of this? Doesn’t anyone worry about you?” He signs without saying anything and changes the topic “You’re the second person in thirty minutes to tell me to rethink my hobbies,” he said instead. “Good,” she muttered. “Maybe you’ll listen.” He rebuttals “Maybe.” Then she put him into his new shirt, careful, slower now, her hands steady again but softer than before, brushing his skin in a way that felt intentional this time. The air between them shifted again, heavier, quieter. By the time she finished, the room had gone quiet again. The tension hadn’t. If anything It had shifted. Deepened. She looked at him differently now, Softer, Worried and something else he couldn’t afford to name. He felt it too, that pull. That dangerous, familiar edge of something he shouldn’t want because she wasn’t something he could have and that made her worse than anything else. Worse than the fire, Worse than the fall because this was the kind of adrenaline he didn’t know how to survive and for the first time he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

so something just came across my desk... i'm not gonna say a word...