#thepitthbo

Samira, Victoria, Trinity, and Cassie dating. Imagine their dates, I feel even though it would be chaotic it would be absolutely cute. Especially if Samira ends up being the most exhausted and Trinity decides to help her to bed. Then there is Victoria and Cassie, Victoria who wants Cassie to think nothing but highly of her even though they’ve been dating for almost a year now. Cassie finds it cute, however, especially when they go on dates and Victoria becomes slightly competitive over something, literally anything.

waiitttt i might have to make a fic out this. imma add onto the victoria and cassie dates. cause the idea of them going on a apple picking or peach picking date and vic wanting to prove she can get more than cassie. but cassie is so laidback about it, she doesn’t mind but pretends to just to rile up victoria…OH THE BUZZ HOLD ON. samria and trinity dating, that’s cute asf too, we going somewhere with this. — 💌 tay ۵

Chapter 1: The Storm Begins

It had been an unusually calm day.  Not quiet and definitely not slow, but generally calm.  No major traumas and no serious chaos.  Jack was relieved.  He could handle anything, but this was the last day of covering day shift while Robby was at a conference, and he was ready to get back to his usual night shift.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her.  Lately, the noticing was happening constantly.  He knew he was more comfortable with her presence and more agitated when she wasn’t there.  She brought a certain calm to the ER when she was on duty.  If he’s being honest, though, it’s not just the work she makes better.  He can’t stop thinking about her pretty much all the time. He was accepting that now.  He had no idea what he was going to do with it.  But he was allowing it.

So Jack noticed it all evening, even though no one else did.

Meg stood just outside Trauma 2, arms folded, speaking quietly with a patient’s family. Her voice was steady, warm, patient—but there was something underneath it tonight. A tightness. It was like a thread of stress pulled everything a little too taut.

Jack lingered longer than necessary at the edge of the hall.

Watching.

“You’re staring,” Dana muttered, not looking up from her tablet.

“I’m observing.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Meg finished with the family. She quickly pulled her phone out of her pocket and clicked the weather app.  Same predictions as earlier.

 She turned—and immediately caught him there.

Just looking at her.

“What?” she asked, walking toward him, tone light and eyes searching.

Jack shrugged. “Something is off tonight.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“Define ‘off.’”

“You tell me.”

A beat.

Then she smiled—too quick, not quite her real one.

“I’m fine, Dr. Abbot. Just a long shift.”

He didn’t move.

Didn’t buy it.

“You don’t say stuff like ‘just a long shift.’  You carry everyone else’s long shift.”

Something flickered across her face.

Gone just as quickly.

“Well,” she said, already stepping past him, “lucky for everyone I’m around.”

He turned, following a step behind.

“That wasn’t an answer.”

She stopped just long enough to glance back at him.

“It’s what you’re getting.”

And just like that—

She pivoted.

Already moving again, she added,  “I need to check on a consult in 3. Psych hold, family is really upset. I’ll see you later.”

It was too fast.

Too clean.

Jack watched her go, jaw tightening just slightly.

Dana didn’t even look up this time.

“Smooth,” she said.

“Not smooth,” Jack muttered.

“Avoidant.”

*** *** ***

The storm hit fast.

No warning. No gradual build.

Just sudden, heavy rain slamming against the ED walls and doors like the wind had decided to blow every ounce of energy all at once.

Meg stood just inside the ambulance bay doors, staring out at it.

Calculating.

“You’re not walking in that.”

Jack’s voice came from behind her.

She didn’t turn.

“I’ve walked in worse.”

“That’s not a neutral observation. That’s a bad decision.”

She sighed, finally glancing over her shoulder.

“I’m calling an Uber.”

“No.”

The word came out sharper than he intended.

Meg blinked. “No?”

Jack stepped closer, lowering his voice but not backing down.

“No…  I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

Another beat.

The rain came even harder.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, softer now.

Jack’s gaze didn’t waver.

“I don’t like the idea of you in a car with a stranger right now.”

Something in that landed.

Not control.

Concern.

She hesitated.

Then exhaled.

She definitely didn’t want to be in this with a stranger either.

“…Okay.”

*** *** ***

The rain had slowed slightly by the time they pulled up.

But something else felt off.

Jack said something first.

“Why are there no lights on?”

Meg was looking around, her whole posture shifting.

Tighter.

Smaller.

She didn’t say anything.

The street was dim. A few houses dark. Others glowing faintly.

But hers—

Completely dark.

“Power outage?” Jack suggested.

“I guess so.”

She said it quietly, like she was out of breath; he could tell she was breathing fast.

He killed the engine.

“I’m walking you in.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

She didn’t argue again.

Jack pulled out his phone and clicked the flashlight.  A small beam hit the ground in front of them.

*** *** ***

The door opened into darkness.

Meg stepped in first.

Then stopped.

Jack was right behind her.

Close enough to feel it—

The shift.

Her breathing still fast.

Her shoulders drawn in with her arms crossed in front of her protectively.

“Meg.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly.

Too quickly.

He didn’t move.

“What is it?”

“I said I’m fine.”

She said it softly, but her voice wasn’t steady anymore.

Jack reached out slowly—giving her time to pull away—but let his arm settle gently around her.

Not restraining.

Grounding.

“You’re not,” he said quietly.

She closed her eyes.

Just for a second.

“Talk to me.”

“It’s just the power,” she said. “I don’t— I don’t like the dark. It’s ridiculous; I know.”

“It’s not ridiculous.”

She let out a shaky breath.

“You can go,” she added, almost automatically. “I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m not leaving.”

Then silence again.

But this one—

Heavy.

“Meg,” he said, softer now, “what’s going on?”

She shook her head.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he said gently but firmly. “You’ve been doing it all night.”

Her breath hitched.

Jack stepped a fraction closer.

Still careful.

Always careful.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his hand shifting just enough to steady her, “you don’t have to carry it alone. I’m right here.”

That did it.

Her composure cracked.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

“I can’t—” she started, then stopped, swallowing hard.

“I can’t be without the system.”

Jack stilled.

“Okay,” he said softly. “What system?”

She shook her head again, but this time it wasn’t deflection.

It was fear.

“The security system.”

“Meg,” he said, more firmly now—but still gentle, still steady, “Talk to me.  Why are you so afraid?”

A long pause.

Then—

Barely above a whisper:

“Because…. I can’t feel safe without it.”

She looks away, struggling.

“I was… something happened…  and—”

Her voice falters. She can’t finish.

Jack doesn’t push.

Doesn’t fill the silence.

Just stays.

He tightens his arm around her shoulders.

She’s glad she’s not alone.

Her hands tremble slightly.

“I don’t— I don’t feel safe without something between me and… everything.”

Jack’s hand tightens just slightly—not gripping, just grounding.

“Hey,” he says quietly, voice low, anchored, “you’re safe right now.”

She exhales shakily.

“I know that logically… but it doesn’t always feel that way.”

“I know.”

She looks at him.

“You do?”

He nods once.

“Yeah.”

He steps just enough in front of her.

Not crowding.

Just there.

“I’m here,” he says. “And I’m not going anywhere while this is happening.  You have something between you and everything, and that something is me.”

Her shoulders soften.

Just a little.

“Okay,” she whispers.

He brushes a strand of hair from her face, slow, careful.

“You don’t have to explain it more than you want to,” he says. “But you don’t have to hide it from me either.”

Her eyes fill slightly.

“I don’t want you to see me differently.”

“Too late,” he says quietly.

She looks up.

“I see you as someone who went through something and is still here, still showing up for everyone else.  And probably carrying more than anyone ever knows.”

A beat.

“And someone I care about.”

She steps closer and places her hand on his arm.

Because she believes him.

Chapter 2: The Storm Continues

The power was still off.

Jack kept his arm around her and guided her farther inside. 

Do you have any candles?

“On the table,” she said softly.

He flicked the flashlight farther in front of them, and seeing the dining table, took a step toward it. 

She grabbed his arm tight, almost reflexively, with what sounded like a slight whimper.

Feeling her whole body tense, he stopped and immediately stepped back and placed his arm around her.

“Sorry,” he said.  Walk with me.

They grabbed the two candles from the dining table.  Pretty tapers with long tulips on them.  He caught himself thinking everything about her is pretty, even her candles. He placed them on the coffee table with the half-used pillar candle already there. Jack lit them with steady hands while Meg stood right next to him, arms wrapped around herself, watching the small flames take hold.  Jack turned off his flashlight and they took a deep breath while watching the flickering.

For a moment, it almost felt calm.

Quiet.

Contained.

---

Then the thunder cracked.

Loud.

Sharp enough to shake the windows.

Meg flinched before she could stop herself.

Jack saw it.

He always saw everything.

“It’s just a storm,” he said gently, already stepping closer and closing his arms around her.

“I know,” she said quickly.

Too quickly.

Her breath didn’t match her words.

---

Lightning flashed—bright enough to flood the room for a second.

Another crack of thunder followed, closer this time.

Meg’s composure slipped.

Her hands came up, instinctive, and covered her face which was now buried against his chest.

Jack didn’t hesitate.

“Hey,” he said softly, tightening his arms, “I’ve got you.”

She didn’t resist.

Didn’t second-guess it.

His arms wrapped around her—not tight, not overwhelming—just firm enough to anchor her.

Her forehead pressed into his chest, like her body had already decided before her mind caught up.

---

Another roll of thunder.

Softer this time.

But closer.

Meg’s fingers curled into his shirt.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, one hand coming up to the back of her head, steady, reassuring. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”

Her breathing was uneven at first.

Fast.

Shallow.

Jack didn’t rush her.

Didn’t tell her to calm down.

Just stayed.

Another flash of lightning and rumble.

She tenses again.

Jack held on.

“Your body is just trying to protect you,” he continued. “It remembers what your mind doesn’t want to. That’s how we survive.”

Her grip shifted—less panic now, more… holding.

“You don’t have to explain anything,” he added. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

A pause.

“But I want you to know, if you want to, you can tell me anything.”

Meg’s voice came muffled against him.

“I can’t… not right now.”

“It’s okay; I’m here.” he said softly. “You can just… be.”

That settled something in her.

Just enough.

---

The storm rumbled again, but she didn’t tense this time.  It felt farther away now.

And she felt closer.  Calmer.  Present.

---

They stayed like that for a while.

Time stretched in that quiet, flickering light.

Her breathing gradually slowing and her body relaxing.

His hand moving in small, steady patterns at her back—absent-minded, comforting.

---

Eventually, she shifted just enough to look up at him.

Her eyes were clearer now.

“Thank you for doing that” she said quietly.

“Doing what?”

“Making it … less terrifying.”

Jack gave a small, almost self-conscious huff.

Something in that hit him.

He looked away for a second.

Then back.

There was something else there now.

Unsaid.

Held.

Meg noticed.

She always noticed everything.

“What?” she asked softly.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s—” He stopped himself, exhaling. “It’s not important.”

She didn’t move.

Still close.

Still within his arms.

“It is,” she said. “You don’t get quiet like that unless it is.”

Jack hesitated.

This wasn’t his comfort zone. 

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

A long pause.

The storm softened again outside, like it was giving them space.

Jack looked at her.

Really looked.

And something in his expression finally gave way.

---

“I’m trying not to push this,” he said quietly. “Not to… make it more than you’re ready for.”

Meg stilled.

“Because you just told me you don’t feel safe most of the time,” he said, steady but careful.

“And the last thing I want is to be another thing that feels like pressure. Or expectation. Or…"

“You’re not,” she said quickly.

Another pause.

Closer now.

“Jack,” she said, gentler this time, “what are you trying to say?”

He closed his eyes for a brief second.

Then—

“I have feelings for you.”

The words hung there.

Simple.

Uncomplicated.

And somehow heavier than anything else.

“I’ve been trying to keep it… contained,” he added, quieter now. “Because I don’t want to scare you. Or push you into something before you’re ready.”

Meg didn’t pull away.

Didn’t tense.

Didn’t shut down.

Instead—

She stepped closer.

“You’re not scaring me,” she said softly.

Jack searched her face, like he needed proof.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she continued. “I haven’t been.”

A beat.

Then, more quietly:

“I feel safe with you.”

That hit harder than anything else.

Her voice trembled slightly, but she didn’t look away.

“I don’t say that easily,” she admitted. “I don’t feel that easily.”

Jack’s hand tightened just slightly at her back.

Not holding.

Just… there.

“But with you,” she said, “it’s different.”

He didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t rush.

“It might be the first time I’ve felt this safe with someone like this since…” she trailed off.

Didn’t finish.

Didn’t need to.

Jack nodded once.

He understood.

---

Another soft roll of thunder.

Distant now.

---

Meg leaned into him again, but this time it wasn’t fear driving it.

It was a choice.

Her arms went all the way around his waist this time.

Jack’s arms came around her again, steady, certain.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she replied.

And they both believed it.

Chapter 3: The Things We Carry

A few minutes later, they were on the couch with some candlelight to take the edge off the darkness.

The storm hadn’t fully passed, but it had softened—rain steady now, thunder rolling farther apart.

Meg sat tucked into Jack’s side, her head resting against his shoulder.

His arm was around her—loose, easy, like it had settled there without effort.

For the first time all night, she looked… calm.

---

They didn’t rush to fill the silence.

They didn’t need to.

---

Jack shifted slightly, just enough to glance down at her.

“Can I ask you something?” he said quietly.

Meg didn’t move, but she nodded against him.

He hesitated—not because he didn’t know what he wanted to ask, but because he was choosing how.

“How old were you?” he asked gently, “… when this thing happened.”

Her fingers stilled where they rested against his shirt.

A small breath.

“Nineteen,” she said. “Sophomore year of college.”

Jack’s jaw tightened just slightly.

He was thinking so many things at once.  He wanted to know who and how and what.  He wanted to know how to make her feel safe.  He wondered how anyone could hurt another person like that intentionally, but especially how anyone could hurt her.  He wanted to do physical harm to anyone who had.

But he made his mind slow down.  He needed to make himself wait.   He couldn’t push.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She gave a small, almost reflexive shrug.

“I survived,” she said.

He didn’t let that be the end of it.

He shifted just enough so his hand could rest more securely along her arm, grounding.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “You did. And you’re still doing it, while also being one of the most amazing people I know.”

That landed differently.

She leaned into him just a fraction more.

A pause.

Then—

“It’s not easy for me either,” he said.

Meg tilted her head slightly, looking up at him.

“Thinking about… this,” he clarified. “A relationship.”

Her expression softened.

“After my wife died,” he continued, voice steady but quieter now, “I pretty much decided that part of my life was done.  I had already been through so much trauma, and then I lost the person I loved the most.”

Meg didn’t interrupt.

“For a long time,” he went on, “it felt… like a part of life was over. Like something I’d already had and wasn’t supposed to have again.”

A small breath.

“My therapist spent a lot of time convincing me that wasn’t necessarily true.”

“Did it work?” she asked softly.

He gave a faint, almost wry smile.

“Eventually,” he said. “In theory.”

She huffed a quiet laugh.

“But I didn’t go looking for it,” he added. “Not really. I wasn’t… trying.  I focused on work, volunteering with veterans, all sorts of ways to fill my life and make it worthwhile.  I’ve always had a call to duty and service.  It was hard for a long time, but eventually that all had meaning again.  But relationships just weren’t on the agenda.”

Meg studied him.

“And then?”

Jack looked at her fully now.

“And then you walked into the ED.”

That gave her a feeling of warmth in her chest.

“And something shifted,” he said simply. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even want to acknowledge it at first. But you were just… there. And suddenly I was thinking about you all the time.”

Meg’s lips curved faintly, but there was something more vulnerable underneath it.

“We all have our things,” he added quietly. “Our sore spots. Our broken places. Our histories. Doesn’t mean we don’t get to have the good, too.”

Meg was quiet for a moment.

Then—

“We can’t stop sharing the best parts of ourselves just because there are difficult parts too,” she said.

Jack tilted his head slightly.

“Then why do you hold back so much?”

She let out a small breath.

“Because knowing something and feeling it are two different things.”

He didn’t argue with that.

“After it happened,” she continued, voice steady but softer now, “everything kind of… fractured.”

She shifted slightly, but didn’t pull away.

“First it was being afraid to be alone. Even at home. I didn’t feel safe anywhere.”

Jack’s arm tightened just slightly around her.

“Then it was going out,” she went on. “I stopped wanting to. Then I stopped even trying to. Everywhere and everything felt like a risk.”

A pause.

“And then it was people.”

“Men,” she said quietly.

Jack stayed completely still.

Not defensive.

Not reactive.

Just present.

“I tried to date,” she said. “But it would always get to a point where something just… shut down in me. I’d get scared, but I couldn’t even explain what I was scared of. It wasn’t anything specific. It was just… everything.”

Her voice dropped slightly.

“And eventually I just got tired. Of trying to fix it. Of trying to push past it.”

Jack’s hand moved gently along her arm, slow, steady.

“So I stopped,” she said. “Focused on school. Friends. Work. And time just… passed.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That you had that much to carry. That you still do.”

Meg gave a small, thoughtful breath.

“You must know what that’s like.”

Jack nodded once.

“Yeah.”

He didn’t rush it.

“With the war and what I experienced in combat…” he said. “With losing my leg. Losing my wife. Patients in the ER…” He trailed off slightly. “There’s a lot to make peace with.”

Meg shifted just enough to look at him again.

“For a long time,” he continued, “relationships felt… far away. Not impossible. Just not something I was reaching for.”

A small pause.

“I wasn’t completely closed to it either. Not after a while.  But I wasn’t seeking it out, and like you, just focused on work and other parts of life, and time just… rolled on”

“Then you showed up.  And that was it,” he said. “No overthinking. No careful plan. Just—” he exhaled slightly, almost amused at himself “—no getting away from it.”

Meg’s cheeks warmed faintly.

“I think you’re…” he hesitated, just briefly, “…smart. And fun. And really, really good at what you do.”

A beat.

“And… beautiful.”

She looked down for a second, absorbing it.

“And it just didn’t matter how much I tried to stay in my lane,” he added. “You were already there.”

Meg let out a quiet breath.

“I felt something too,” she admitted.

He stilled.

“I tried to ignore it,” she went on. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t a good idea. That I wasn’t ready. That it was too complicated.”

A small shake of her head.

“But it didn’t go away.”

---

Jack’s voice softened.

“So… what does that mean?”

Meg hesitated.

Just slightly.

He felt it.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked gently.

She drew in a slow breath.

Then, quieter—more vulnerable than anything she’d said so far:

“I feel like I’ve missed… a whole set of experiences.”

Jack frowned slightly.

“Like there’s this part of life I just never really got to have,” she explained. “And now I don’t know how to step into it without feeling… scared… or behind… or…”

She swallowed.

“…inadequate.”

Jack didn’t respond right away.

He shifted slightly so he could see her more clearly.  And held her just a little more tightly.

“Meg,” he said softly, “there’s no timeline for being human.  And certainly no timeline for overcoming trauma or grief or any other things we experience.  You know that better than anyone.”

She blinked.

“You didn’t miss anything,” he continued. “You survived something that changed the rules for you. Of course it changed how you moved through the world.”

A beat.

“That doesn’t make you behind. It makes you… someone who had to fight for what most people just take for granted.”

Her eyes filled slightly.

“And if you’re scared,” he added, quieter now, “we go at your pace. Not anyone else’s.”

She searched his face.

“You’re not something I have on a timeline,” he said. “And I’m not something you have to get right.”

A faint, softer edge to his voice:

“We just… show up.

Meg let out a shaky breath.

“That sounds almost manageable,” she said.

“Good,” he replied.

A pause.

Then—

“So we’ll try?” he asked. “Spending more time together?”

She looked at him, still a little tentative.

But not pulling or looking away.

He tilted his head slightly.

She looked thoughtful.

“Like maybe a date?” he added.

She hesitated.

“That sounds like a lot of pressure.”

Jack nodded immediately.

“Okay. No date.”

She blinked, surprised.

“How about just lunch- tomorrow,” he said, “and maybe something after if we feel like it. It’s our day off.  And we have to eat.  So no dates.  Just practical planning for food sources.”

He added quietly, like a whisper, “No pressure. Just… this.”

Meg considered that.

“Zero expectations.  If you just show up and spend time with me,” he said, completely sincere, “I’ll be thrilled.”

She smiled.

A real one this time.

---

Meg leaned back into him, a soft smile lingering.

“Okay,” she said. “I can manage that.”

Jack let out a quiet breath.

Relief.

Something more.

“Good,” he said.

And this time—

He didn’t try to hide how much that meant.

---

More coming soon and will be linked. Full story so far on Wattpad and AO3.