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Jack Abbot was known as a lot of things.

He didn’t let most of them bother him, ignored the whispers of him being too strict of a boss that were somehow paired with criticisms of being too lax. The harmless quips about his dangerous hobbies that still burrowed their way deep into his chest or the occasional judgmental look he got from people when his leg caught on a step or stiffened behind him.

There was the care taking side of him, giving a granola bar in passing to a med student so exhausted they could barely stand and making sure to remind Robby everyday in the most casual way possible that he cared about him.

He could be cynical and sarcastic, a little hard to understand and almost impossible to gauge the mood of on those days he needed to end up on the roof to even attempt at grounding himself.

Jack was a veteran, a night shift attending, a friend and an enemy.

But he had absolutely no plans of ever being known as a widower.

There had been a new label for him as he entered his thirties, proudly wearing the badge of husband and announcing it to anybody who was around to listen.

“I’m just dropping off her lunch, I’m her husband.”

“My wife loves this flavor, I’m glad you keep it in stock.”

“Sorry I can’t tonight, it’s me and my wife’s anniversary.”

Jack was well aware that he was the luckiest man on earth to have married you.

It was straight out of a fairy tale and went against every single pessimistic bone in his body, truly love at first sight for the both of you.

He’d fallen ridiculously hard for you the moment you’d walked past him on campus, scarf around your neck and a pretty smile on your face as you waved at your friends across the field. You were warmth personified for him and he’d been so distracted, he took a football straight to the face.

Then you were suddenly a lot closer, kneeling down on the grass despite the fact you were wearing pretty white tights, face full of concern as your gloved hands hovered over his nose that was most certainly bleeding.

You’d gotten upset immediately and asked him over and over again if he was alright while he stared dumbly up at you from his place on the ground, only snapping out of it when you gasped that it must be broken.

He had interrupted and finally gotten the courage to speak, telling you he’s a med student and he didn’t think it was that severe, and nearly falling flat onto his back when your eyes sparked with interest.

You were inseparable from the moment you met each other, abandoning your friends who watched curiously as you helped him up and walked with him to the nearest corner store. You stood a little too close for his sanity after buying a cold drink, encouraging him to press it lightly to his face and giving him a pleased smile when he did so.

Jack decided that for the rest of his life he would do anything in his power to see you smile like that every day.

He was in your dorm room almost nightly with stacks of books between you, ankles tangling under library tables, and soft giggles leaving you as you leaned against his shoulder in the courtyard

There was no point in pretending to be friends for more than a few weeks, unable to keep your hands or eyes off of each other long enough for it to be believable. Everyone around you knew exactly what it was and so did the two of you, blushing softly when your friends teased you for being completely smitten but making no move to deny it.

Jack asked you to be his girlfriend after the first snow fall of the school year.

He had made a plan in his head that was far more romantic, including candles and cheesy rose petals his roommate had told him would definitely do the trick. He ended up just blurting it out outside of your dorm building, unable to resist when he saw how the cold had made the tip of your nose turn pink and the way your eyes shone as you wished him a goodnight.

There was a small disbelieving part of him that kept waiting for the honeymoon phase to end, but it never did.

Not when he felt like he needed a change in his career and started to get addicted to a more dangerous feeling, not even when he enlisted and you had to spend some excruciating time apart.

He had felt like the biggest idiot in the world most nights during that time, alone in his tent as he flipped through letters you’d sent him or when he was out in the field and kissing one of the many photos of you he kept in his uniform.

Jack had wrote you over a thousand times and in most of his writings, he ended up apologizing.

He’d tell you that he didn’t know why he needed to chase this thrill and he couldn’t really explain why his skin would start to crawl when he was safe for too long. He knew he was an adrenaline junkie and it wasn’t just an ironic phrase when he was actually in battle, your face the last thing he knew he would remember if anything happened to him.

Along with the heavy guilt of leaving you alone, waiting for another letter that wouldn’t come.

It kept him going every single day and he always reminded you that he would understand if you left him. There would be no anger if you didn’t want to spend the next few years loving a man you couldn’t see, couldn’t touch or hold on the hard nights.

Once, he had written to you saying that he almost hoped you’d meet somebody else while he was away. He had went on and on for too many pages about how he would be a happy man to know you were out there with somebody who could love you in a less painful way.

You’d gone silent for a week after that and it was the worst week of his entire life, unable to sleep or eat properly as the regret hit him hard.

He knew then, if he hadn’t already before, that he could never lose you. He couldn’t stomach you walking away from him or leaving you on this earth after he’d left it far too early.

Jack finally heard from you on the ninth day but it wasn’t through a letter.

You had somehow reached out to one of his higher ups and arranged a phone call, making up a lie that you had a family emergency just so he could hear your voice for the first time in many painful months. He’d tried his best not to cry in the office, face still dusty from the field training exercise he’d been yanked out of.

He had been terrified when they told him somebody was on the phone for him, fearing the worst.

You’d wiped the fear right out of him when you softly laughed and told him to make sure he kept his best poker face before launching into a full scale scolding for him ever even thinking about you leaving him for somebody else. He sat there and tried to hide a smile as you berated the mere suggestion, ending the brief phone call with a deep reminder of how much you loved him.

Jack knew that when the next rotation of sign ups came along, his name wouldn’t be on the list.

He was happy for the experience, the opportunity to further his degree in such a unique form of medicine, but he wouldn’t spend a minute longer away from you than he had to.

The bliss of knowing he’d come home to you shortly was ended about as quick as it arrived.

Not too long after your impromptu phone call, they were sent back out and things moved so fast from there on out that Jack couldn’t even remember the events that led up the accident.

He remembered lots of noise and then lots of warmth, yelling voices around him and the feeling of his limp body being dragged through trees and dirt. Then came the pain, both from his lower section and from his throat as he screamed it raw all the way back to the medical tent.

The final thing Jack remembered was just as he had thought his last moments would be like.

Your voice and your smile as you looked at him back in the college field, so far removed from the terror and pain of his current situation. You’d never have to experience a trauma like this as long as he could help it but he was scared the pain you’d feel when you got the call he died could almost be worse.

Jack laid there stiffly on the small bed, bleeding out on the dirty white sheets, and still only could think about you and how he hoped you weren’t alone when the phone rang.

It felt like years passed before his eyes opened again and now he was certain he had died because there you were.

Sitting in a chair next to his bedside with your head in your folded arms, tapping your foot anxiously and lightly shaking his bed from the movement. You were sniffing harshly like you’d just finished crying, whispering something under your breath that he thought sounded like a prayer despite knowing you weren’t religious.

He wasn’t surprised that if heaven existed his would start with you at the gates.

He only startled when he went to touch your hair lightly, straining his stiff fingers to try and even feel a strand, and your body shot up in surprise. Your eyes were wide with confusion and then your entire frame sagged in relief before you were standing up abruptly and starting to scream for the doctors.

The understanding that he wasn’t dreaming, wasn’t dead or in some sort of afterlife, only hit him when he saw you start to collapse with sobs.

Because Jack knew that you would never feel any type of sadness in any perfect reality he could imagine.

He didn’t necessarily process anything the doctors were saying to him now that he was awake, words about his amputation and what the healing timeline would look like going right past him as he stared at your face. You were holding his hand then, sending him gentle warning looks that were silently telling him to listen properly.

All Jack could focus on was you, the fact your hair was a little shorter now and your hands were still shaking as you squeezed his even tighter when the doctors started talking about his limitations.

There was still a lack of denial about his new disability until it started to affect your relationship.

Jack didn’t see himself as a traditional man in any sense, he didn’t feel like he needed to do things for you out of necessity but simply because you were the love of his life and he was devoted to you.

He didn’t realize how many little things he had taken for granted until he finally was discharged from the hospital and was forced to adjust to his new normal.

There was no more carrying you through the doorway after a wine filled date, racing with you along the shore of the beach and listening to you giggle when he caught you by the waist and brought you into the water.

It was a painful build of all the small habits he no longer could follow, an inability to take care of you in the ways he felt like he had promised you when you started to build your life together.

Jack felt like he was holding it together fairly well despite the obvious fact he was pulling away from you without meaning to.

He was spending more nights in his study as he prepared to go back to a more routine level of schooling, determined to live life as normal as possible despite the ache in his leg when he sat at his desk for too long and the dizziness his medications would occasionally cause.

There was the times he woke up with nightmares so realistic he’d shoot up in bed, sweat around his shirt collar and his chest heaving so harshly it would cause you to stir too. You’d wake up with him and not sleep again until he was able to, even if it took hours before he could remind himself he was safe in your bedroom.

So he started to sleep on the couch more often than not.

Jack could see the toll it was taking on you but he couldn’t get himself to let you get too close, scared you’d see what your future was going to look like now and decide it wasn’t worth it anymore.

He finally broke down one random weekday in the middle of a chilly fall, similar weather to the first time you’d met all those years ago.

You’d been having car troubles for weeks apparently and keeping it hidden from him, softly whispering that you didn’t want to burden him with any more bills. The hospital was sending letters nonstop, you both had debt from your schooling, and his disability checks were barely enough to cover rent and the groceries.

He didn’t even become aware of the problem until you stormed back in the house only a few minutes after you’d left it, tears running down your cheeks as you gasped and cried to him that your car wouldn’t start.

You had an important meeting at work that would undoubtedly land you a promotion, one that could really help you both live more comfortably. You’d been talking about it for weeks, preparing yourself endlessly and going through your presentation over and over with him each night.

Jack hadn’t hesitated to get up on his crutches and head outside with you, barely throwing on a coat before he was settling himself in the drivers seat of his truck and being hit with the realization that he hadn’t driven since losing his leg.

It was muscle memory to jump at the opportunity to help you, such a simple solution of just getting in his truck and bringing you to work before you were late.

You both sat there in silence, windows still wet from the morning dew and his chest beginning to heave painfully.

Jack drove a manual truck, something he hadn’t even considered since he’d been holing himself up in the house. You had no idea how to drive a stick shift and, not for the first time since his accident, he felt utterly useless in your relationship.

He’d cried for the first time since he had lost his leg in the quiet car, not because of the pain or because his entire life had changed forever, but because of the sole fact he had let you down again.

The therapy started after that, both physical and mental.

You’d climbed into his lap that day and did your best to reassure him that you didn’t love him any less, telling him that you would be with him for eternity in any circumstance, but your words hadn’t been enough and you both knew that.

Things were better after that, not perfect, but Jack was learning to cope with his grief surrounding his own body and you were able to get some pointers on how to be there for him in the littlest ways.

He didn’t think you needed any advice because you were as perfect as always in his eyes, spending extra time out in the yard with him the first fall he tried to rake the leaves again and softly massaging his stump and scars in a warm bath after a bad flare up.

You were still the love of his life and you were the sole reason he was able to continue it after going through something so awful.

There was a light at the end of his tunnel that he would chase forever, even if it was a little slower than he had planned for. You’d never wavered or made him doubt your love for him despite how much he thought he didn’t deserve it.

Jack and you got through the next few years with alot of effort and patience, feeling like you could finally take a deep breath when he graduated and then getting a clean start when he was relocating to Pittsburgh.

By then, his leg was a secondary thought to him despite his disability still being a big part of his story. He didn’t let it define him and he barely felt the need to inform people about it, feeling a surge of confidence as he entered his thirties and got to become more than the guy who had lost his leg.

Becoming your husband only made that so much easier.

Jack had never wanted to be anything more and he would have married you the day he met you if you were willing but he selfishly needed it to be perfect.

He didn’t want you to swear yourself to a broken man or one still doing the work to build a life for the two of you, he wanted you to hear him ask that question and be able to look around and see the stability around you.

And Jack was stable.

The house you two bought was beautiful with enough space to grow your family when you were ready, a topic you were talking about more and more through the years. You loved your job and felt secure and happy in your career and both of you had a perfectly healthy balance of work and life.

There was no extra shifts picked up or late nights that left your feet dragging as you came home because you prioritized each other.

Jack would get a wave of pride over him whenever somebody would ask him the secret to such a happy marriage, especially since he didn’t really have one to offer them.

He could only smile and pull you closer while telling them that marrying your best friend made it that much easier.

You were his soulmate, the only woman he had ever loved and the only one he needed for the rest of his life.

The rest of the world seemed to love you just as much as he did which was no surprise. Showing you off was his favorite thing to do, bringing you to every work function possible and beaming as he watched his coworkers automatically fall for your pretty smile and gentle nature.

He’d get pats on his back from Robby as he told him he was a lucky man and soft nods of approval from Dana who had a knowing gleam in her eye.

You’d sneak off with him to the roof of the hospital on his lunch breaks, the nurses affectionately rolling their eyes when they saw the two of you giggling together like teenagers ditching class.

Sometimes he still felt like the bumbling idiot back in the courtyard, so thrown by your beauty that he let himself get knocked to the ground.

You would lean against him as the wind blew your hair back, looking out at the city you’d made your home together with a fond look.

He could tell you were happy and that made it so much more magical for him.

Jack sometimes felt like he was bragging when he’d talk about your life together, his therapist even occasionally pushed him to really search deep down and find something to complain about.

She’d tell him it was healthy for marriages to have issues, that small disagreements didn’t mean you loved each other less. Jack would earnestly confess to her that he couldn’t think of a single thing he disliked about you.

You didn’t fight over money or snap at each other after a hard shift, there was no chance of infidelity or even wandering eyes, and your date nights were more frequent than not.

Your relationship didn’t grow stale and you didn’t get sick of each other, there was absolutely no settling and you hadn’t made adjustments to yourselves individually to fit better as a pair.

You just did naturally.

He was forty five the first time he noticed anything was changing about you.

There was lot of nights he spent in recent years thinking about how stupid he was, blaming himself for not realizing something was wrong before it was too late to stop it.

He’d sit in an empty exam room for hours and read through your old files, look at bloodwork papers and medication lists and try to figure out why he had missed the signs. He blamed himself more than anything despite the people around him begging him not to go down that dark path.

Jack was a doctor, and a fucking good one.

So how was it possible you’d gotten so sick right under his nose?

It was slow at first and then a suddenly drop off towards the end.

You’d complained about being tired more than usual so Jack pulled back on your date nights out and started to keep them centered around your house, movie marathons on the couch and home made dinners he spent hours perfecting.

Then you would drift off in the middle of conversations, still present and alert but your eyes a little dazed like you weren’t fully there.

He’d stroke your hand softly and say your name in a gentle whisper until your gaze went back to his face, a little confused and sometimes panicked before he quietly repeated himself.

You woke up and threw up once at the end of summer and Jack had been stupid enough to believe you were pregnant. You both were excited at the idea, rushing to the nearest pharmacy to pick up a handful of pregnancy test and standing anxiously in the bathroom as you waited for the results.

Your shoulders had slumped with disappointment when they all came out as negative and he’d been halfway through reassuring you that you could keep trying when you threw up again.

So you changed your diets together.

You started to eat healthier and really stretch out your walks so you could stay active. You’d laugh together about your old age, smiling in the bathroom mirror as you brushed your teeth side by side and counted your ash colored hairs.

You’d told him in bed one night how much you loved growing old with him. He stayed silent as he listened to you whisper about how happy it made you, how you weren’t at all scared of what it might bring if it meant you got to be together through it.

Jack couldn’t stop thinking about that exact conversation at your funeral.

He’d told himself beforehand that he wasn’t going to look at you, lying in that traditional brown casket that made his stomach turn. He wasn’t sure he’d even make it into the building, was certain he’d run out to throw up before the service began.

Robby had been there through it, hand tight on his forearm whenever he shifted like he was planning to leave and a supportive glance when he would start to sob randomly through the kind words people said about you.

Which there was only ever kind words.

His feet had naturally led him up to the front of the room after most people had already filed out of the doors. He knew Robby was still there, somewhere behind him and most likely keeping a watchful eye as Jack stared down at you.

The first thing he thought was that you had significantly less gray hairs than him.

Then he wondered if you would have made fun of him for that, probably kissed his softly on the cheek as you ran your fingers through his curls like you used to do.

You did it all through your doctor’s appointments, naturally comforting him despite the constant bad news you received.

The treatment wasn’t working. Your body wouldn’t respond to medication the way it was supposed to. You had a lot less time than you thought.

He thought the last one was particularly obnoxious to hear and he had wanted to interrupt and scream at the doctor, tell him that of course this was less time than they thought because you had figured you’d be together forever.

Jack had spent a lot of time thinking about leaving you behind. In his tent out in the middle of battle, when he laid there bleeding out and thought for sure he was dead, and almost every night before sleep when he registered the stiffness in his joints and the wrinkles on his skin.

He’d set up some plans for you just in case, money in different places and insurances on his life you’d scold him about if you knew. He’d talked to Robby and your family and just about anybody he could about making sure you were taken care of after he was gone.

There’d never been a time where he considered you would go before him.

Especially not like this.

With your hair only starting to turn colors and your face so youthful even under the powdery makeup and stiffness of your skin. Jack didn’t actually feel much pain looking down in your casket because he refused to even process that as you.

You’d died the second your eyes had fluttered shut in the hospital bed, holding his hand tightly and whispering that you loved him before you fell asleep. You didn’t wake up again, never kissed him good morning, and you certainly didn’t put yourself in this dress and enter this room.

Jack loved you so completely that most of him died when you did.

He was sure it wasn’t too apparent to the newest rotation of med students that came in only a few months after he lost you.

They saw a man who was short with his words and sarcastic, harsh when he was tired and so closed off he almost felt impenetrable. He was suddenly the boss you had to desperately seek approval from and the no nonsense type of doctor he had hated during his first few years of residency.

There was no comparison they could make but he could tell it was hurting the people around him.

Robby especially, who only knew the version of Jack that was loved by you.

The Jack that came to work each day with a lipstick stain on his cheek accompanied by a bright smile, a lunchbox full of love notes and cheesy heart shaped fruit you’d cut up for him. They remembered the Jack that paced himself during his shift to make sure he had energy for your dates and took long breaks when you stopped by to visit just so he could sneak a few deep kisses in before you’d go.

Your shared friends and conjoined families had no choice but to grieve both of you.

Jack buried you in the ground and then buried himself in his work to the point of exhaustion, picking up dangerous hobbies and neglecting his health.

He’d find himself up on that roof top most nights, both trying to relive those days you’d sneak off together and also trying to get as close to you as he possibly could. He wasn’t sure if that meant figuratively or if by putting himself on the other side of the railing and letting himself close his eyes and wait for a sign he should fall away from it.

You’d be furious with him if he did anything to himself so he didn’t but he thought about it almost constantly.

It was almost passive, just the lingering belief that he would be better off.

He’d be with you and that was all he wanted.

There was no room for anything else in his head, a constant rotation of what you would have done or said if you were here and then the pain when he had to remember over and over again that you weren’t.

He sold your house, far below its actual value and that was even tougher considering it was priceless to him. He figured if he didn’t get out of it then he would end up doing something drastic like burning it down just to escape the scent of you and the memories bouncing off the walls.

He could hear your laughter when he passed the living room and feel your eyes on him when he ate dinner alone, the echoes of dishes clanking as you bumped your hip against his teasingly and your shoes still sitting by the door.

Your toothbrush was dried out on the sinks countertop and your soap bottles hadn’t gone down an inch, unfinished laundry still sitting down there dirty in your basket and the last carton of milk you’d bought getting more and more rotten by the day.

Jack gave your car to your nephew next and then cried his entire drive home, pulling over in some random parking lot and then punching the buttons off his radio when a song you used to hum came through the speakers.

He’d gotten out of his truck and left it there, crooked and barely between the lines as he limped the six miles back home. It was dark by the time he made it and his leg hurt so bad he was positive it was bleeding but he couldn’t be bothered to check or take care of himself, throwing his aching body and heart down on the couch.

Robby had eyed him harshly the next day, the cuts on his knuckles and the obvious discomfort in the way he moved despite his shift not even starting yet.

It got a little easier over the years, bad habits sticking and personality shifting in the way someone’s did when they went through something horrible.

Jack Abbot was known as a lot of things.

But before his newfound labels, he was a romantic and half of a perfect relationship. He was a partner, a caring friend and the type of guy you could call whenever you needed a shoulder (or two considering you’d always be a few steps behind him).

Jack was a husband long before he was a widower.