Getting there with decide on me, yeah, decide on us:
Jack’s in-laws live in a gorgeous house with a wraparound porch and an American flag hanging from the rafters. The windows, shutters open to the fading daylight, overlook the river, and there is a cluster of well-maintained looking rose bushes growing beside the front steps. It is, Jack had mentioned idly on the drive over, on the literal other side of the tracks from apartment he grew up in.
“They weren’t sure about me,” he’d told her once, “when Sarah brought me home. I was this scruffy kid,” he’d continued, smiling wryly at the memory, “face like thunder half the time. Can’t imagine I was what they wanted for their daughter.”
Whatever the Walsh’s had felt that first time Jack crossed their threshold, Samira thinks, it certainly isn’t how they feel now. The moment the door opens, Mrs Walsh - call me Eileen, she’ll tell Samira in about thirty seconds time – has swept Jack up into a hug, one hand thrown tight around his shoulders and the other tousling his curls.
Terrified that Eileen will try to hug her too - or perhaps worse, won’t – Samira thrusts the bag of pie she’s holding out in front of her like a shield. “Thank you,” she says quietly, as the other woman takes it from her, “for having me.”
“Oh sweetheart,” Eileen replies, unmistakably warm and gesturing for them to follow her back into the house, “thank you for coming.”
Jack takes Samira’s coat, and hangs it on one of the hooks by the front door. Holds out his arms so she can steady herself, centre of gravity not quite what it used to be – as she toes off her shoes and adds them to the end of the line of sneakers snaking along the wall. Eileen watches this with a look of maternal satisfaction, before depositing the pie into Jack’s hands with an unceremonious order to put it on the kitchen counter, and for goodness sake, to put the kettle on while he’s at it.
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Chapters: ¾
Fandom: The Pitt (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Jack Abbot/Samira Mohan, Samira Mohan & Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, Samira Mohan & Emery Walsh, Jack Abbot & Emery Walsh
Characters: Jack Abbot (The Pitt), Samira Mohan, Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, Emery Walsh
Additional Tags: Post-Season/Series 02, Future Fic, Getting Together, Jack Abbot is down bad, Samira Mohan is just realizing she is also down bad, Love Confessions, with very inconvenient timing, Angst with a Happy Ending, canon typical crises, Samira did not see this coming, but is going to be totally rational about it, (or not), Hostage Situations, off-screen pregnancy (not Mohabbot), Jack’s going to haunt the narrative for a lot of this, you know just like he has for the first half of season 2, Domestic Fluff, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Unprotected Sex, don’t be like these two use protection
Summary:
A loud buzzing sounds between her ears. It drowns out the ED, the commentary of the other nurses as Ahmad hits play on a video cued up from a local news’ YouTube channel that reads HOSTAGE SITUATION AT PITTSBURGH BANK in the lower chyron.
The video shows a shaky camera zoomed way far in as, yeah, that’s definitely Jack, walking toward the front doors of a Philly First National branch with his hands held up in surrender.
Or—
Jack’s TEMS shift goes awry, and all Samira can do is wait.
–
Okay, so I know I said that this was going to be 3 chapters, but this chapter turned out to be 24k (and counting as I clean up), so I found this was a good place to split the chapters, and also I’m impatient and wanted you all to start reading while I finish cleaning. Note the rating change, etc. etc.
But worry not, Chapter 4 IS actually done, so it won’t be another 2 month wait lol. It’ll be out on this Mohabbot Monday.
for the ask meme - what two stories have you written that are most similar and why?
-
So, without cheating and choosing series/alt POVs, i'm going to go with decide on me, yeah, decide on us and all my memories gather round her.
As for why, I think primarily for the Jack Abbot and Emery Walsh as in-laws backstory, and for the vibe of trying and fighting and doing your best to make things work. I think you could arguably treat them as happening in the same universe, and also I have such a soft spot for 'all my memories' because it's the first proper backstory deep dive I wrote, and thats something im trying to explore more in the final chapter of domydou.
❓No dumb questions amnesty - can you explain this [line/dialogue/moment from the story]?
🏴☠️ Were there any points in which your characters tried (or succeeded) to commit mutiny against your planned plot? Where did they most want to rebel?
🥇 What scene were you most excited to write? Did it end up being the one you enjoyed writing the most?
🙏 Was there anything your character(s) really really really wanted to do? Did you let them?
🍆 What scene do you think was the hottest? What scene do you think your readers thought was the hottest? Are they the same?
🔮Have you imagined what happens to [character(s)] in the future? Or does the story only exist to you as a moment in time?
🔎 What detail(s) in the story are you particularly captivated with? Is there any behind the scenes info or backstory?
🧭 What was the key choice or decision you had to make for this story? If you had chosen differently, what would the story have turned into?
📖 Could the story have been a different length? What would you have included/removed?
🫂How would the story have changed if you wrote it for [this pairing] instead?
💭 If you could wish into creation a transformative piece for your story, made by a real human who isn’t you, what would it be? Art, video, sequel, podfic, etc.
📋What was your main goal for the story and/or writing experience? Do you think that you achieved it?
🎤 Do you think the story was written in your typical voice? Why or why not?
👉👈What two stories have you written that are most similar? Why?
👈👉What two stories have you written that are most different? Why?
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the Scottish wedding fic continues to live rent free in my head, and also I brought Heather Collins back because I missed her:
-
'You will never guess who I ran into tonight,' Samira types, still tipsy and reeling with the feeling of almost. Feeling the desperate need to write it into existence; as if putting it into words will make it real somehow. Lies spread eagled on the hotel bed, shoes hanging off the edge and contemplating each and every individual choice she's made in over the last four hours, until her mobile starts buzzing with an incoming call.
"Sorry," Heather says immediately, voice tinny through the phone speakers and four and a half thousand miles of distance, "I'm in the car." Its three thirty pm in Portland, and it's Heather's day off. She will be on the way home from picking up her son from kindergarden -and sure enough, Samira can here Eli chattering away in the background - as Heather continues, "Don't leave me in suspense," she says, "work's been so boring without you - give me the gossip, who did you see?"
Samira is quiet for a second too long. Overthinks it; his name leaving her mouth all in a rush. "Jack Abbot," she says, biting her lip against the heat rising in her cheek. Never has she been more grateful that Heather can't see her face.
Heather's answering laughs echoes down the line, "Now there's a blast from the past," she says, a definite edge of fondness in her voice. "How was he? Does be still have a crush on you?"
Samira's brain freeze frames. In the resounding silence that followed her question, Heather, hesitant, poses another: "You did know he had a crush on you, right Samira?"
the Scottish wedding fic continues to live rent free in my head, and also I brought Heather Collins back because I missed her:
-
'You will never guess who I ran into tonight,' Samira types, still tipsy and reeling with the feeling of almost. Feeling the desperate need to write it into existence; as if putting it into words will make it real somehow. Lies spread eagled on the hotel bed, shoes hanging off the edge and contemplating each and every individual choice she's made in over the last four hours, until her mobile starts buzzing with an incoming call.
"Sorry," Heather says immediately, voice tinny through the phone speakers and four and a half thousand miles of distance, "I'm in the car." Its three thirty pm in Portland, and it's Heather's day off. She will be on the way home from picking up her son from kindergarden -and sure enough, Samira can here Eli chattering away in the background - as Heather continues, "Don't leave me in suspense," she says, "work's been so boring without you - give me the gossip, who did you see?"
Samira is quiet for a second too long. Overthinks it; his name leaving her mouth all in a rush. "Jack Abbot," she says, biting her lip against the heat rising in her cheek. Never has she been more grateful that Heather can't see her face.
Heather's answering laughs echoes down the line, "Now there's a blast from the past," she says, a definite edge of fondness in her voice. "How was he? Does be still have a crush on you?"
Samira's brain freeze frames. In the resounding silence that followed her question, Heather, hesitant, poses another: "You did know he had a crush on you, right Samira?"
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like a bell through the night
the pitt | abbot/walsh | e
i.
From the quicksilver glint in her eye, to the bite of her fingernails along his spine, to the catch of whiskey-soaked teeth against his jaw, all the way down to the edge of her smirk when she pulls back to look at him, she’s all sharpness from the very start, porcelain shattered against steel. Breakable, maybe, but beautiful and destined to make him bleed.
On a very delayed train and cobbled this together - for everyone (but especially @trophyhusbandism) who tells me regularly how much they love of flowers. Also for anyone who thinks that night shifts and single mothers make interesting characters...
---
Before she met Jack Abbot, Samira Mohan worked the night shift.
This isn't, in fact, strictly true.
(She was an MS2 when she met Jack in a hotel bar. Fell into bed with him, full of liquid courage and the kind of youthful 'fuck it' energy that never doesn't lead to bad decisions. Yet to step foot through the staff entrance of an emergency room and still four years off from seeing him again.)
So then, not before she met Jack, but certainly before she knew his full name. Before she had his phone number, or his address or anything more than article titles scribbled on a napkin.
Not before she met Jack, but after she sat alone in a university bathroom clutching a positive pregnancy test with both hands. After she held his daughter in her arms for the first time, and tried desperately to figure out how to be someone's parent - someone's only parent - and finish medical school at the same time. After she cobbled together a future with string and determination and best intentions. After she heard Anika laugh for the first time, full of miraculous joy, and decided it was worth it after all.
No, Samira worked the night shift, because that is, more often than not, what single mothers do. It required less schedule juggling for her own mother to mind Anika over night - and less chance of hanover dragging hours later than intended.
Her medical education was, by extension, also formed under the crucible of midnight to three am emergencies, interspersed by all too rare quiet moments. By the put upon residents at Saint Michaels who supervised her first procedures, and the battle hardened charge nurse at Children's who gave her a list of all the best late night take-aways and babysitters in the area. By the somewhat spiky junior attending, known to the rest of the staff at Bayshore as 'the vampire', who suggested she apply for a spot on the first study into racial disparities in emergency medical care she helped work on. By a myriad of mostly excellent and caring, careful doctors and nurses in the same city she grew up in.
The same people who gave recommendations when she dragged herself through to graduation and made what felt like a hundred applications for emergency medicine residences, bouncing Anika up and down on her lap and typing furiously. Who tried to cheer her up before interviews attended in her best shirt and only pair of tailored trousers, and a blazer she borrowed from her cousin that pinched a little over her shoulder blades. The same people who celebrated when fierce determination talked her into her first choice emergency medicine residency in Pittsburgh.
And so she came to the Pitt.
And there he was.
Somehow, more than she remembered. More than she'd imagined for him - in wildest fantasies and regrets. Jack Abbot, who popped back up into her life, and chose, against all expectations and received wisdom, to plant himself; to stay. And because of all that, the night shift which had been solace and penance both, was no longer a necessity nor an option. By virtue of a second parent for her kid. By order of the PTMC HR department.
There are, of course advantages to keeping daylight hours. Better sleep, being the one to do bathtime and bedtime stories almost every night. Jack's smile, small and secret and just for her, when she put Anika in his arms at handover. But there are also times, when she passes over her patients to Parker, or Shen or whoever else happens to be working, and she can't help but miss working the night shift.
Then again, she thinks to herself, shaking her head slightly, it's a small price to pay for Anika and Jack, and all the other strange and mostly wonderful things she has in her life now.
