#jonathan frost

Jonathan Frost x Mitch Ripley fanfic :)

It was always cold in Chicago. Especially in Gaffney Chicago Medical Center. Jonathan Frost was from Chicago, but he never really adapted to the cold.

The hospital didn't help.

He had been working on a patient who had fallen, hitting his head and arriving unconscious. Alexander McClean. 17 and living with his 21 year old girlfriend. Frost knew it was wrong. He only knew about Alexander's situation because of the bruises. Alexander was peppered in bruises and scars, some small, some large. As soon as he woke up, Frost had the girlfriend, Sadie, leave. He needed to talk to Alexander. When she left, panic settled in Alexander's eyes. Despite being groggy, he managed to defend Sadie, saying he passed out. He didn't know Frost spotted handprints on his chest.

Frost tried his best. He tried to explain that whatever was going on, he wasn't alone. People can help him. People care for him. This didn't have to be how he lived.

Alexander left with Sadie anyways. He came back an hour later, only to die by slitting his wrists. They failed at resuscitation.

Jonathan never ran out a room so fast.

He ripped off his gloves, hand beginning to shake. His throat felt constricted. Frost heard Doris say his name, though he only grunted in response. He ran to the north stairwell, which was barely used due to its lack of visibility. Jonathan slid down behind the stairs, back flush against the wall. He tried to use the cold brick to ground him. His vision went swimmy, his head too heavy. He felt his hands clawing at his arms, trying to do something, anything, to feel normal.

If only Frost could've saved him. If only he could've convinced Alexander to leave Sadie, that this wasn't what a normal and healthy relationship was meant to look like. Maybe if he saw the signs, if Alexander was placed on a psychiatric hold, maybe he wouldn't have died.

His mind went at one hundred miles per hour. He could've ended up like Alexander. If he stayed with Ainsley, let her treat him like that. She was so much older. He was so young. Why had he made it out and not Alexander? It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

His head fell into his hands.

What if he had-

The door opened.

A voice cut through the air.

"Jonathan?"

It was Mitch. John barely acknowledged him, just continued to pant. He grabbed at his hair, hyperventilating. Mitch knelt right in front of him.

"Jonathan, are you okay?"

No response.

"Jonathan, talk to me. What's going on?"

Jonathan just shook his head violently, trying to explain that he was fine, nothing was going on. He could barely get the first word out before a sob escaped his lips. His breathing became even heavier.

Mitch put a hand on Frost's shoulder. He pushed it away, attempting to back up further into the wall. Jonathan shook his head violently.

"No- no not- not now-"

Mitch regarded him for a second, his hand returning to his side. He took a seat in front of Johnathan.

"Jonathan, you're having a panic attack. I need you to breathe." His brows furrowed in concern.

"I- I can't. I can't breathe- I can't I can't-"

"Yes you can. Come on, copy me."

Mitch exaggerated his breathing, in for four, hold for four, out for four. It didn't work much. Jonathan stared past Rip, scratching at his own arms.

"Look at me, John. Three things you can see?" Mitch asked, trying to get Johnathan to calm down.

"Wh-what-"

"Tell me three things you can see."

"I ah- I see- the door? A uhm.. glove on the floor... uhm.. I don't-" Johnathan responded. He was trying. Truly. Even if he sounded like he had ran a marathon, still gasping for air. His chest ached.

"That's two. You got it, Frost." Mitch encouraged.

"I see... your stethoscope-"

"Perfect. What are two things you can feel?"

Mitch prompted.

"No I- I feel like my chest is being squeezed Mitch I can't- I can't breathe- Mitch I-"

Mitch shushed him, putting both hands on Johnathan's shoulders. He didn't push back this time, though he did tense.

"I know. I know. What are two things you can feel?"

Johnathan's eyes looked wild.

"You- You? Your hands and ah- my- I feel the wall. It's cold it feels- it feels right."

Mitch nodded, "That's good. Very good. What's one thing you hear?"

"I hear... wind. From- from outside?"

Mitch nodded again. "Good. Look at me."

Johnathan didn't even realize his eyes had slipped away.

"I feel- I still can't-"

"Can you follow my breathing?"

Mitch stared at Johnathan intensely, exasperating his breaths. Johnathan slightly untensed from under Rip's touch, though he was still shaking.

He started to feel his breath coming back, tears rolling down his cheeks less and less.

Eventually, Jonathan stopped shaking. His breathing evened out. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, pushing a steady breath out. Part of his hair stuck to his face.

"You're okay. John, you're okay." Mitch pushed a strand of hair out of Johnathan's face, prompting John to look back at him.

He stayed silent for a moment, before running a hand through his own hair. He felt his face heat up again, tears threatening to spill over the edge.

"Jonathan, you're safe."

Frost shook his head once, trying to make a quick remark. It didn't work. Instead a sob came out.

Mitch pulled Johnathan in for a hug, rubbing circles on the other's back with his palm.

"You're okay... You're okay. I've got you."

Johnathan continued to cry into Mitch's shoulder, shakily explaining the case he had.

"Alexander- my patient- he- his girlfriend was twenty one. She was hitting him, Mitch. I told him he could stay- he could get help- but he just... he killed himself."

"Oh, Frost. I'm so sorry." Mitch shook his head a bit, and Jonathan felt it in their hug.

"You don't understand. He could've been me. I- I could've been him. What would've happened if I stayed-" His breathing was becoming ragged again.

"Stop." Mitch urged. "You're going to get yourself worked up again. You couldn't do anything else, John. You gave him an out. Some people just can't be saved.

Johnathan took a shakey breath out, leaning further into Rip's arms.

"That doesn't make me feel any better." Frost sighed.

Mitch thought for a second,

"It's not going to."

Jonathan huffed.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Johnathan leaned back out of Mitch's embrace and motioned towards himself.

Mitch shook his head.

"Don't be sorry for needing someone to cry on. C'mon," Mitch got up, extending his hand. "Our shifts over. Let's go home."

Johnathan looked at him wearily, taking his hand. As he stood, he almost fell right back down. He felt Rip's arm around his waist.

"Woah- Johnathan? You good?"

"I just uhm.. got a little- a little lightheaded." He shut his eyes, nodding. "I'm good. Let's go."

Mitch looked cautiously, but let go, leading them both out an exit in the staircase.

~~~~

this is something i've been working on! there's nothing written for them and it's my first fic

Tagging: @kmc1989 @switchbladeclub @itsspelledbyannca @define-lying @midnightrain42

Summary: Your first date with John doesn't go as well as he'd hoped.

Bloody - John meets his soulmate during a bloody day in the ED.

All Work, No Play - You're surprised when John asks you out on a date.

Gutterball - Your first date with John doesn’t go as well as he’d hoped.

Flowers - John leaves you a birthday gift.

Ms Independant - Your history causes you to struggle when John asks to take care of you.

Such a Good Boy - John is confronted with a face from his past.

Our Little Secret - Ainsley traps John in a position he really doesn't want to be in.

Can I ask the n.21 Jacket 'round my shoulder's is yours prompt from the Taylor Swift Mixer Tape prompt list with John Frost?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @switchbladeclub @itsspelledbyannca @define-lying @midnightrain42

Companion piece to:

Anchor

You’re wear John’s jacket into work the next day. The scent of his aftershave clings to the collar, the soothing aroma of cedarwood and lavender flooding your senses, lingering on your skin. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him all night, his soft tone, his dark eyes, the way that he felt pressed up against you.

Tagging: @kmc1989 @switchbladeclub @itsspelledbyannca @define-lying @midnightrain42

Prequel to:

Such a Good Boy

The first time John meets you, you literally turn up on his doorstep bloody. The figurative doorstep being the E.D. You’re not injured but you do have your hand tucked within the chest cavity of a nine year old boy, fingers pinching together one of his arteries so that the poor kid doesn’t bleed out.

They spend 45 minutes working around you, opening up the area before clamping it so that you can remove your hand. It comes out a stained mess and unlike a normal person in the aftermath of hideous situation, you don’t gag or throw up. You calmly use the paper towels to remove the surface layer of viscera until you’re escorted into the nearest shower facility to clean up.

You come out with damp hair, wearing a pair of burgundy scrubs a size too big for you and shoes from the lost and found, each foot a different brand of sneaker. Your own clothes are sealed in a clear bio-hazard bag, ready to be taken into evidence by CPD, because the hole you had your hand in was from a Colt 45, the poor kid’s lucky he didn’t die from such a catastrophic injury.

It’s in the aftermath of the whole thing he finds you in the Doctor’s Lounge, you have this look on your face, one he recognises form the nights he can’t catch his breath and your hands are starting to shake.