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Begin Again

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Summary: It had been thirty years since his truck tires rolled out of her drive for the last time. Even longer since the day his locker door slammed shut beside hers and marked the beginning of Jack Abbot. Beth had never expected it to end. Never expected to live a lifetime with only the ghost of the boy who promised her one together. She never expected to see him again. Until that curtain flung open, and there he was. And just like that, Jack Abbot began again.

Notes: jack abbot/single mom!ofc, reunited high school sweethearts, second chance romance, slow (emphasis on the SLOW) burn, seriously it's slow, ofc’s daughter is a teenage gen z menace and we love her for it, angst/longing/yearning, hurt/comfort, author is just an english teacher with no medical background, eventual smut, jack and ofc are emotionally constipated idiots

Word Count: 6,615

Read on AO3 (Up to Chapter 15!)

Chapter Four: Day One Pt. 2

Hospitals had a certain smell. It wasn’t necessarily a bad smell; just distinct. It clung to her clothes and her hair well after her shift would end, seeped into her skin until she could’ve sworn her blood smelled like hand sanitizer and disinfectant. Parfum d’hôpital, Mom had called it. No matter the city, the staff, or the patient load, that sterile tang never changed. It was constant. Routine. Comforting, in its own strange way.

But the Pitt, as the night charge nurse had called it during her site tour last week, felt different; familiar in a deeper, more visceral sense. Like muscle memory. She was met with noise the second she stepped in, the waiting room already packed before seven a.m., and the ER buzzing with the sort of barely organized chaos only found in places that treated drunks with head lacerations and pulmonary embolisms at the same time. She’d already stowed her things in the locker she was assigned at orientation, ran through her morning prep, and now clipped her shiny new badge to her vest, zipping it halfway before stepping into the ring.

She hadn’t seen Jack yet, and with any luck, she wouldn’t. Maybe he worked nights. Maybe the schedule gods took mercy and decided their paths wouldn’t have to cross at all. She could live with that. Hell, she’d be grateful for it. Out of all the hospitals in the fucking country, he just had to work here. Still, she caught herself glancing sideways every time someone stepped too close. Her stomach tightened when tall figures moved in her periphery, heart kicking up before her brain could talk it down.

Stupid.

She exhaled through her nose and tried to shake it off. There were enough nerves in her chest already, no need to feed them. She’d earned this. She had every right to be here. And he… well. He didn’t get to take up any more space in her day than absolutely necessary. She pulled her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and kept walking.

Let the day start. Let it be his day off. Please.

Her watch buzzed on her wrist and pulled her attention from the swirl of movement around her. The small display lit up with Abby’s text; Have a great day! Kick ass. Love you Mom :)

Her lips tugged up. Her sweet girl. Before she could start to tap out her response, squinting at the too small letters, another message rolled across the screen; Also, can I please spend the night at Mia’s tonight? Scott already said it was ok!

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. There it is. She tucked her mug under her arm, starting to tap out her response again, and stopped just short of getting mowed down by a gurney, patient writhing and moaning while nurses worked furiously on the move. Yep. Same shit, different layout.

She already felt right at home.

She spotted a familiar blonde bob and felt her shoulders relax slightly before she made her way toward the nurses’ station.

“This place always a zoo,” she called out over the din, leaning against the counter, “or are y’all going big for my first day?”

Dana turned, glasses sliding down her nose as she scanned the floor. Her face lit up when she spotted Beth. “What can I say? We like to make an impression.”

Beth grinned, the weight in her chest easing at the sight of a familiar face. “Yeah? Good or bad?”

“Too early in the day to tell,” Dana said with a wink, reaching across the counter to pull her into a quick hug. “Thank God, you actually showed. Now save me.”

Beth hugged her back with a laugh, still gripping Dana’s arms when she leaned back. “I thought about turning around, but then I figured you’d never let me hear the end of it if I did.”

“Damn right,” Dana said, swatting her arm with her clipboard. “Would’ve made a complete ass out of me with how much I’ve been talking you up around here.”

Beth laughed under her breath and leaned heavier against the counter. “Oh, good lord. I hope you’re not out here writing checks I can’t cash.”

Dana smirked. “Too late. Told them you were God’s gift to triage.”

Beth rolled her eyes, but truth be told, she was just grateful to have a familiar face around, and a welcomed one at that. She’d met the hilariously blunt woman years ago when Abby had made the varsity volleyball team as a freshman, and Dana’s daughter, Jenna, had been a senior and team captain. Beth had found a kindred spirit in the only other mom who showed up straight from a twelve-hour shift, still in scrubs, hair barely wrangled into a bun. They’d swapped war stories between sets; hallway births, combative psych patients, and the classic “I don’t know how it got in there, doc, I swear” foreign object cases. Just another day in the office for them, while the other parents quietly edged away from their corner of the bleachers.

Even after Jenna graduated, they kept in touch; mostly Facebook comments and the occasional text until earlier that summer, when Dana called out of the blue to tell her that there was an opening in her department. She recruited her like she was earning commission, said she wanted someone who could keep up and wouldn’t flinch when things got loud. “Besides,” she’d added, “if I have to deal with someone’s sorry ass all day, I’d rather it be yours.”

The timing couldn’t have been better. Beth needed a way out of Mercy fast, and Dana had practically lit up the runway and guided her in. She said yes before she had time to talk herself out of it, and now, here she was.

“How’s your sweet girl?” Dana asked, softening just enough to make the question feel like more than polite conversation.

“She’s good,” Beth said, a little smile tugging at her mouth. “She’s back to giving me hell, so I’d say she’s feeling better. Already counting down the days until she gets cleared for sports.”

“Sounds like Abby,” Dana chuckled. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone before they all scatter.”

She turned and scanned the nurses’ station like she was mentally taking roll, then gestured toward a small group still lingering nearby. “That’s Donnie and Perlah; don’t let Perlah’s face fool you, she’s friendlier than she looks. Kim’s the one over there trying to do six things at once.” Each gave Beth a quick smile or wave before darting off in different directions like worker bees.

Dana nodded toward the two residents standing over a terminal, both already halfway through reading something as they walked. “Blondie is Mel, one of the residents. She’s newer, you’ll love her. Sweet girl. Heather is with a patient already, you’ll meet her later. Let’s see, who else…”

Beth nodded along, doing her best to match names with hair colors and approximate height, though she missed the redheaded woman’s name. Cassie, maybe? She made a mental note to circle back later and properly introduce herself. Redheads needed to stick together.

Dana glanced back over her shoulder and gave her a dry look. “And yes. There will be a quiz at the end of your shift.”

Beth was about to reply when Dana raised a hand to flag someone down. “Robby! New girl is here.”

Beth turned in time to see a tall figure slow to a stop. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week; tired brown eyes framed with smile lines, stubble that teetered towards a full beard, hoodie thrown over black scrubs and sleeves pushed up to the elbows like they were already in his way. She recognized him vaguely as one of the dozen people on her interview panel.

“Doctor Michael Robinavich, our fearless leader,” Dana said with a smirk. “This is Beth, our newest glutton for punishment. And a friend of mine, so don’t scare her off.”

“Oh, wouldn’t dream of it, Dana.” He smiled, slow and a little crooked, and let his gaze linger a beat too long to be purely professional. Beth clocked it instantly, but instead of bristling, she smirked. Damn. Too bad she didn’t date coworkers anymore. Or doctors, for that matter. Or dated much at all, really. He was cute; scruffy in a half-dead-on-his-feet kind of way. Just her type of man.

She switched her travel mug to her left hand and extended the right. “Doctor Robinavich. Good to see you again. Beth Baker.”

He took her hand, warm and firm, and held it maybe half a second longer than necessary. “I remember. Please. Robby.”

“Alright, Robby.”

“I’d say we’re lucky to have you,” he said, glancing down the hall like he was already late for something, “but we both know it’s less about luck and more about finally finding someone desperate enough to say yes.”

“Gee, you sure know how to flatter a girl,” she smirked, watching as the ambulance bay doors slammed open. A trauma team surged forward with a gurney, voices overlapping;

“GSW, two to the chest.” “Pressure’s tanking.” “Call the OR, now.”

Good morning, Pittsburgh.

The current pulled them down the corridor like a riptide. Beth crossed her arms, leaning back slightly to watch them disappear into a trauma bay. Five person teams. Nice. That was the same, at least. “Looks like I picked the right day to start. Seems like you could use the hands.”

Robby huffed a humorless laugh. “Welcome to the Pitt. Hands, prayers, small miracles. We’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

“Well, I don’t know about the miracles, but I’ll try my best,” she smirked, leaning back to get a better look at the triage screen over the station. “I’m ready to go, boss. Throw me to the wolves.”

Robby shook his head with a small, tired chuckle. “Remember, Baker, you asked for this.”

He glanced at his watch before turning to address the group around them. “Alright, seven on the dot! Night crew, pack it up and get outta here. Day crew, circle up.”

A ripple of groans, calls of “thank God” and “good luck, suckers” echoed from the staff clocking out, some already halfway down the hall, scrubs rumpled like they’d all just crawled out of a bunker. Which, Beth supposed, wasn’t far off. The day shifters drifted toward the center like planets in orbit. Beth followed Dana’s lead, stepping in closer with her arms folded, trying to look like she belonged when curious eyes flicked to her.

One pair of eyes felt heavier than the rest. Beth didn’t look right away. She didn’t need to. She felt it; just enough heat and weight to tell her exactly who it was. At one point, that look would make her feel steady. Now it just made her skin itch.

Whether she had wanted to or not, she glanced up, quick enough to hopefully go unnoticed. Jack stood across the huddle, shoulders squared but hands shoved deep into his pockets. The second their eyes met, his dropped quickly, and with it went her stomach.

Damn it. She really thought she was going to get off easy. Thought maybe, just maybe, the universe would cut her a break, just this once. Guess she thought too soon. Then again, when had the universe ever done Elizabeth Baker any favors?

She tightened her arms around herself and turned her attention to Robby instead, but she could still feel it. Could still feel him. Like a pulled muscle she couldn’t quite stretch out.

“Okay,” Robby said once the group clustered loosely in a semi-circle around the desk, “night wasn’t terrible. Only 3 codes, so slow night. Two admits waiting; ortho consult on one of them, psych consult on the other. Myrna is around here somewhere, so be warned. Bay 2’s got a GSW, Bay 3’s still hot; MVA, headed to OR.”

He rattled off the rest with practiced ease: attending coverage, consult availability, OR backups, a heads-up that radiology was short-staffed again, so expect delays. Beth scanned the group, trying to clock faces and squint at name tags, then caught his look again. It flickered across at her like it was unintentional, but it landed all the same.

This time, she didn’t look away. Her spine straightened like a wire pulled taut, and she met his eyes with a calm she didn’t quite feel. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just met hazel eyes that had taken too much sleep from her. If he wanted to look, then fine, Jack. Look. If she had to remember every goddamn detail, then so did he.

Jack didn’t hold her stare long. He shifted his weight, blinked, and looked down like something on the floor suddenly needed his attention. Beth didn’t let herself feel good about it. She didn’t let herself feel anything at all. Instead, she turned back to the group without a word, jaw tight, heart ticking faster than it had any right to, and nodded along to Robby’s quick debrief.

“Couple of techs out sick, so keep that in mind. Langdon’s still out, so until he’s back in—”

“Twenty-three days,” a voice piped up from across the huddle. It was the blonde resident with glasses, Mel, Beth remembered, and she was grinning before the group turned to look at her.

Mel blinked like she didn’t mean to say it out loud. Beth caught the soft flush that crept up her neck. She offered her a smile; not teasing, not pitying. Just quiet recognition. Mel returned it before dropping her eyes to the floor.

Robby smirked and gestured toward Mel like he was proving a point. “So, yeah. A few weeks.”

Then he turned toward Beth, stepping aside just enough to make room for her in the circle. “Alright, last thing; new face on the floor. Everyone, this is Dr. Beth Baker. She’s joining us from Mercy, and somehow we convinced her we’re the better circus. Try to keep fooling her, yeah?”

Beth raised a hand in a quick wave, giving the crowd a small smile. A few people nodded or murmured greetings, a couple offered smiles. Someone in the back muttered, “Sorry in advance,” and got a smack from Perlah. Beth already got the feeling she was going to like Perlah.

“She’ll be a regular on days,” Robby continued, “since we’re doubling up on attendings until Langdon is back in. If she looks confused, help her. If she looks competent, leave her alone. Let’s keep up the illusion so she sticks around, yeah?”

A few chuckles arose before Robby wrapped up with the last few instructions and a quick nod before the group began to disperse. Jack was gone before Robby even finished talking, ducking into a room as quickly as he could. Staff pulled back into the steady current of the floor, the hum of urgent footsteps and clipped voices filling the space again. Somewhere down the hall, alarms buzzed sharply, and a gurney rattled past, a paramedic jogging alongside it.

Robby turned to Beth, a gentle smile warming his face as he crossed his arms. “Hey, how about you take the morning to settle in? No pressure. Just get comfortable, get a feel for the place before diving into any cases.”

Beth gave him a knowing look. “The classic ‘take it easy’ offer, huh? Funny, I’m usually the one giving it. This must be what the other side of the desk feels like.”

Robby chuckled and tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Technically,” he made air quotes with one hand before tucking it back in, “you’re supposed to shadow me today. The grand tour, login walkthrough, pretend we’re not short three staff. Whole nine yards.”

Beth smiled, tapping her nails against her mug. “Ah yes. Shadowing; where I trail behind you like an intern while we pretend I haven’t been doing this since Bush was in office?”

He chuckled, smirking. “Which Bush?”

Beth let out a dry laugh and shook her head, brow raised. “Ouch. Watch it, Robinavich. I was just starting to like you.”

Robby laughed quietly. “So no to the tour of the supply closet and some good old administrative hand-holding?”

“This is hardly my first rodeo.” She sipped her coffee and shrugged, gesturing between them. “You sign off that I was glued to your side all day, and I’ll tell any administrator who comes looking for my babysitter that you’re in the bathroom?”

His grin widened. “You got yourself a deal, Baker.”

“Pleasure doing business with ya.” She set her mug down in front of an empty terminal, tucking it up under the counter before she stepped back to look at the triage board again. “Alright. Put me in, Coach. Where do you need me?”

“Triage is underwater,” Robby said, eyes skimming the hallway again. “Honestly, it’s been underwater since, oh, I don’t know… forever? You okay taking rounds?”

Beth gave a quiet laugh and nodded. “You got it.”

He smiled, handing over the triage iPad mid-scroll. “System’s the same as Mercy, so you should be golden. Just tap here to log in, swipe to claim, double-tap to open charts… but it looks like you’re already three steps ahead of me.”

“Like I said; hardly my first rodeo,” she said, already tapping through. She glanced up at him with a small smile. “How often are vitals reassessed? Every two hours?”

He opened his mouth to say more, but paused when he noticed Jack step out of a room. He didn’t see her, distracted by whatever a resident was presenting to him as they walked. His sleeves were pushed to his elbows, scrub top clinging in familiar places that Beth dropped her eyes from. Deep in her gut, she felt that same twist she’d felt in the shower that morning, ancient and oppressive, but something traitorous fluttered against her ribs for a moment before she grabbed it by the wings and shoved it down hard. She kept her gaze on the iPad, but her jaw shifted and she bit down on the inside of her cheek until a jolt of pain lessened the pressure.

He looked the same. Or maybe he didn’t.

It was hard to tell when her memory refused to let go of a younger version that lived within it. His curls had gone gray, but they still flattened from where he dragged his hands through them, brow pressed together the same way it had when he was tired or irritated or thinking too hard. She used to tap that space with a finger when it wrinkled to get him to loosen up a bit before he’d trace his thumb against her lips. His laugh came at something the resident said in passing, brief and dry, just a flash, but it twisted in her gut at how familiar it sounded. His lips tugged up for a moment, and that was the same too. Too small. Too tight. Wrong. Not hers.

And from the look of the band on his finger after he peeled off his gloves with a practiced snap, it hadn’t been hers for some time now.

Jesus Christ, Beth. Get a fucking grip.

He glanced at Robby first, then his gaze found her. She looked down again before she could catch his eyes.

“Hey, Abbot!” Robby called, waving him over without missing a beat in his instructions. Beth’s fingers moved across the screen, feigning focus to keep from looking up.

Jack approached as Robby nodded at the chart she’d pulled up in a desperate attempt to look occupied. “Looks like you’re all set. Before you go, Baker,” he glanced to Jack, then back again with a faintly conspiratorial smile, “This is Jack Abbot, one of our—.”

“We’ve met,” Jack said without pause. He barely broke stride as he moved past them without so much as a sideways glance.

Beth didn’t flinch. Or at least tried not to, she hoped she’d done a good job of hiding the way her shoulders tensed. Just adjusted her grip on the iPad that was a little less steady now, pretending to scroll, and looked back to Robby, whose brows were now raised somewhere near his hairline.

“Well,” Robby said slowly, watching Jack disappear down the hallway, “I was going to say I think you two’ll get along…”

Dana leaned back, charge phone pressed to her chest, and gave Robby a look. “Don’t take it personally, Cap. He’s been like that since he got in.”

Robby huffed a short breath of amusement, but Beth could tell he didn’t love the brush-off. She didn’t either, but she pushed it aside. Kept it tucked away, same place she stored all the old hurts with his name on them. Wasn’t the first time he walked away from her.

Beth glanced past him, gaze catching on a cluster at the far end of the counter. Three kids—no, not kids, but close enough—stood in a loose triangle like they were at a middle school dance and waiting to be asked to dance. Eager. Green. Good lord, they kept looking younger and younger every damn year.

Still, she felt something warm uncoil in her chest. They never got less determined, never less passionate. That was the beautiful, painful thing about working with med students that she loved the most; they threw themselves into the fire without flinching, certain they’d walk through it untouched. She remembered that feeling well.

She flicked her head toward the group. “So, do I get to corrupt the youth yet, or is that privilege reserved for next week?”

“Be my guest.” Robby’s smile was easy, his voice pitched low as he gestured discreetly at the students. “Javadi, Santos, Whitaker. Take your pick.”

Beth tilted her head toward them. “Which one’s your favorite?”

“Favorite?” Robby gave a mock-offended scoff. “Doctor Baker, a good teacher never picks favorites.”

But he flicked his eyes toward Whitaker with a wink before being called down the hall. He excused himself with a quick, light touch on her arm, and then he was gone, leaving her alone in front of the kids.

The three students stared at her like Dad had just brought home his new girlfriend. She stared back.

Santos was the first to break eye contact, picking at a nail before straightening her back and sinking onto one hip like she’d seen enough to be bored. Beth knew that type. Sharp, maybe too sharp, often had something to prove. Usually the first to burn out or burn through people.

Javadi stood with the kind of composed alertness Beth liked; eyes scanning not just her, but behind her. She was already looking for context clues. That was promising. Beth could work with that.

Then there was Whitaker.

She already knew she was going to like Whitaker.

Poor kid didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Or his face. He kept shifting his weight like he was caught between asking a question and hoping he wouldn’t be noticed. He caught Beth’s eye and she smiled, which he returned uncomfortably. She knew this type, too. There was a reason they became the favorites, and usually, damn good doctors.

She pointed to Whitaker. “You. Come on.”

He glanced behind him, then back at her, uncertain. “Me?”

She gave him a flat look. “I’m pointing at you, aren’t I?”

“…Yes?”

“Then let’s go. Triage awaits.”

Alright, day one. Let’s do this.

- - -

She lasted all of fifteen minutes in triage before the first real one rolled in. Fifty-eight-year-old male, brought in by a wife who had watched him hobble around for a full day post-MVC insisting he was fine. By the time Beth clocked him, he was ghost-pale and gripping his side like it might fall off. The bruise had spread across his flank in angry purples, blooming like a rotten fruit; classic Grey’s-Turner sign. Ruptured pancreas. Not fine.

Robby cracked a grin and joked that she didn’t waste any time when she came busting through the doors flanking a gurney, already calling for labs and a FAST scan to the nurses she had introduced herself to in the same breath.

She scrubbed out sometime around ten after the guy made it to the OR stable, and by ten fifteen, they threw another chart at her. This time, a construction worker who took a fifteen foot tumble off some scaffolding. Fractured wrist, three cracked ribs, and a CT that showed a kidney laceration. He got a bed. The marble up a toddler’s nose that she removed in the waiting room did not, but a very frazzled mom got a pep talk, little man got a sticker, and Beth got a surprisingly nice hug from a stranger.

By noon, she was three coffees deep, two traumas handled, and only marginally behind on her charting, which, all things considered, felt like a win. The morning had been one case after another, but manageable. No mass casualty alerts, no screaming family members, no staff dissolving into tears in the hallway. Just a full board and a decent rhythm and the chief attending shooting her flirty smiles between patients. She was starting to think she might like it here.

She finally crossed paths with the other ER redhead a little before noon. Cassie, just like she’d guessed. By then, Beth had already given up on the protein bar she’d been pulled away from three times and earned herself two new bruises from a run-in with a gurney, but things were otherwise going surprisingly well. Cassie was sharp, funny, easy to talk to, and as it turned out, they had a few Mercy friends in common. By the time Beth settled in beside her at the terminal with a half-flat Diet Coke, they’d traded mom stories and made carpool plans for the wedding of one of those friends they were both invited to. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. She liked everyone so far; even if one of them had been doing a damn good job of pretending she didn’t exist.

Maybe she had been right when she told Abby that she was a little excited.

“Tawny actually called me when she found out you were working here,” Cassie said, glancing over at her as she signed off a chart.

Beth chuckled, already lamenting whatever the sharp-tongued, firecracker of a nurse that always goaded her into drinking far too much during staff get-togethers had told her new coworker. “Uh-oh. How afraid should I be?”

“All good things,” Cassie promised. “She said to tell you she’s still pissed at you for leaving, though. Also, she set the bar high; said you were basically the emergency department’s resident baked goods supplier.”

Beth grinned, tilting her Diet Coke towards her in a mock-cheers. “Gotta save something for the second day.”

It was so far easy. Comfortable in a way that tamed the beast that had been trying to rip its way out of her gut since she woke up. And when Cassie finally asked, “So what made you leave Mercy anyway?” she almost didn’t mind the shift in tone. Almost.

Because that was the exact moment Jack slid into the empty terminal across from her like he hadn’t spent the entire morning acting like she didn’t exist. He still hadn’t said a word to her. Not during rounds, not when they were alone together in the staff room together for a fleeting moment, not when she’d brushed past him grabbing a pair of gloves and he flinched like he’d been shot.

She didn’t care. Not really. Not that her now-married high school ex-boyfriend hadn’t looked at her all day, and apparently had decided to pretend that whatever history they shared never happened. He didn’t need to look at her. She was happy to pretend too if that’s what he wanted. She’d gotten pretty damn good at that.

Still, something in her chest shifted at the sight of him. That little flutter of that stupid little girl she’d left on that rooftop after she learned that fairytales didn’t exist. She took a sip of the Coke and shoved that girl’s head right back under the water where she belonged.

She set the can down, eyes still on the screen as she reached for a pen, only to brush against his hand as he went for the same one. Just the edge of her pinky, a quick skim across the back of his hand, but it was enough to fire up nerve endings she hadn’t used in years. She pulled back like she’d been shocked.

“Sorry,” she said too quickly.

“‘S fine,” he muttered, already logging out of the terminal and hustling away like he had somewhere else to be. Anywhere else.

Beth cleared her throat, eyes fixed on the screen even though the words were suddenly hard to read. “There was… a change in leadership,” she told Cassie, hoping the pivot was smooth enough to pass for casual even though she could feel her pulse in her throat. “Mercy just stopped being a good fit.”

Cassie gave a slow nod, eyes trailing after Jack before turning back to Beth. Her lips parted, and Beth braced herself for the one question she’d been hoping to dodge today, feeling it coming like a wave she didn’t have the strength to duck. She really should’ve practiced her answer in the car. Because right now, everything she could think of sounded absolutely batshit insane.

“GSW en route. Male, mid-teens,” Dana called from the desk. “Drive-by. G1 to right upper arm. ETA two minutes.”

Beth could’ve kissed her on the mouth when she looked over at her and asked, “Baker, you want it?”

She was already halfway out of her seat. “Yes, please,” she called back.

She’d never been more thankful for someone else’s shitty afternoon in her entire life. She grabbed gloves and a gown from the trauma cart, forcing herself to settle her breathing into something calmer. Controlled. She didn’t glance back to see if Cassie was still watching. She just kept moving.

She’d figure out a good answer on the drive home. Something clean. Something that didn’t sound like she was still holding a grudge. Something that didn’t sound like a lie.

- - -

By the time she made it to the locker bay at the end of her shift, her body ached in places she didn’t know could ache. Her feet throbbed in protest with every step, her back twinged when she bent to undo her laces, and she was pretty sure she could no longer smell anything except bleach, blood, and hospital-grade antiseptic.

The gunshot wound had turned into a full-blown treasure hunt for a fragmented slug, and everything after that blurred together into a parade of sutures, scans, a very brave five-year-old with a dislocated elbow from the monkey bars, a hypoglycemic trucker who swore up and down he hadn’t eaten anything weird despite his glucose clocking in at 34, and a frat boy with a steak knife stuck in his thigh who had no reasonable explanation as to why it was there and zero shame.

All in all, a pretty fun first day.

The locker bay was blessedly quiet now, the shift change rush thinned out and gone. Beth rubbed at her eyes, stepped in front of her locker, and sighed as she rested her forehead against the cool metal for a moment, already dreaming of the bottle of red waiting for her at home on the kitchen counter. As Abby would say; she’d been a brave girl. She’d earned a little treat.

She punched in her code, Abby’s birthday, like always, and hit the unlock button. Twisted the knob, and was met with resistance.

She blinked at the lock, shoulders sagging. Must’ve fat-fingered it. Always took her two or three tries to get it right after a long shift anyway. She tapped it in again, slower this time, glancing down at the text Abby had sent her before twisting the lock again. Still jammed.

Beth let out a breath. “Okay, Baker,” she muttered. “Get your shit together. Let’s go home.”

She tried again. 11-19-08. Press red. Twist.

Once again, nothing.

She frowned and double-checked the locker number just in case the day had finally broken her brain. Nope. Right one. She was mid-punch on her third attempt when a hand brushed lightly against her shoulder.

“Nice work today, Baker,” Robby called as he passed, backpack slung over one shoulder, his scrubs half-untucked like the rest of him was already off the clock. He gave her a grin on his way down the hall. “Think we’ll keep you around.”

“Hope so,” Beth smiled despite herself. “Have a good night, Robby.”

He threw up a little wave without turning around and disappeared around the corner. She stared back at the locker like she could will it open by sheer exhaustion alone, sighed again, and tried the code one more time. Still, it didn’t budge. She closed her eyes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her vest.

This stupid piece of metal was the only thing standing between her, clean clothes, and her couch. She refused to be bested by it. She swallowed down the frustration fluttering in her throat and let out a determined, steadying breath. New doesn’t mean impossible, she told herself. Be smarter than the locker, Baker.

11.

19.

08.

Red button.

She twisted the knob, holding her breath out of sheer hope. Surely, this had to be it. She was feeling lucky. And…

Fucking nothing.

She huffed and rubbed her eyes, biting down hard on her cheek. She glanced around, hoping nobody was watching a college-educated woman nearing fifty-years-old in a losing battle with an electronic lock. She pulled her phone from her vest pocket and tapped into her email. Maybe the welcome packet had locker instructions. Reset steps. Please, God, anything, but she was met with nothing but HR fluff.

She was just about to try again until a hand reached over, covering the pad.

She glanced over, expecting to see Robby, maybe Dana, someone easy. But the shape of the hand and the scar on his knuckles told her she was wrong before she even looked up. Broader. Familiar.

Jack.

He looked at her for the first time all day. No smirk. No amusement. Just… tired. And that was almost worse. The clawing in her gut didn’t stop, but something lighter stirred underneath it. A fluttering against her ribs that she didn’t want to feel, that felt almost cruel.

He lifted his hand from the pad without a word, like helping had never been out of the question, held down the reset button until it chirped, then pressed the pound key. When he tilted his head toward it, she didn’t argue. Didn’t ask how he knew. Just swallowed her pride and typed in the code again. Red button.

The lock clicked.

She twisted the knob and pulled the door open. “Thanks,” she murmured, offering him a tight-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He nodded, returning one of his own. That same damn tight-lipped thing he used to use when he didn’t know what to say but wanted to pretend he did. It felt just as wrong now as it had back then.

He opened the locker next to hers and started gathering his things in silence, the faint sounds of zippers and metal echoing down the now-empty hall. She couldn’t see him past the door between them, and she was glad for it. Whatever was hanging in the air between them didn’t need a face to go with it.

Beth turned back to her locker and reached for her bag with fingers that fumbled more than they should have. She busied herself with pointless organization, straightening things she’d already straightened that morning. A change of scrubs. Clean shoes. Spare socks. A battered toiletry bag with a sticky zipper. A photo of her and Abby in DisneyWorld for cheerleading nationals in February was taped to the mirror on the door. Jack didn’t walk away, just continued to pack up in silence while they both pretended the other wasn’t there.

He finally broke the heaviness after what felt like days. “Good work today,” he said softly.

Her hands stilled, fingers wrapped around the strap of her bag. She wanted to say something snarky, something dismissive to keep him at arm’s length the way she’d promised herself to do. But the way he said it tightened something in her throat. It was simple. Honest. Like he meant it.

Instead, she tugged her keys out of her bag and managed a soft, “Yeah. You too.”

He didn’t say anything else. The silence settled again, thicker now. She could hear him moving; clinks of metal, the rustle of fabric. Close. Too close.She squeezed her keys so tight that the teeth bit into her palm.

This was ridiculous, she told herself. They were nearly fifty, for God’s sake. Too old to be dancing around the edges of a thirty-year-old wound like nervous teenagers, and he was married. He’d obviously continued forward the same as she had. She’d buried that hatchet a long time ago; stitched her heart back together piece by piece and kept going. Pushed through med school alone, survived the last year of residency with an infant and her family on the other side of the country. Built a career, raised a daughter, made a good, stable life. She could handle a conversation with a boy she used to love.

Except somewhere along the way, she’d kept a map to that damn hatchet. Hadn’t even realized she’d drawn it until he walked into that exam room and she saw him again. Thirty years and all it took was one look to feel the ache of it all.

She hadn’t even known he’d gone into medicine. She guessed that had always been the plan though, until it wasn’t. She’d head to med school first, and he’d do his time saving lives in combat zones. Then it would be his turn to suffer through labs and lectures once he got out and she held down the fort until they both had a few new letters following their last name. But that version of their future ended the night he pulled out of her parents’ drive like he couldn’t get out fast enough. Her knowing anything about his life had stopped then, and he’d made sure of it.

It didn’t matter. She’d told herself she didn’t care so many times it should’ve been true by now. The scar tissue around that wound was thick, and she knew better than anyone how difficult it was to cut through.

She chewed the inside of her cheek and glanced at his locker door. Be the bigger person, Beth. There’s a bar two blocks from the hospital. Buy him a drink, say what needed to be said, clear the air. Then go to admin, and request opposite shifts. Put on your big girl panties. Learn to swim.

Not like he’d say yes anyway. He probably had his wife waiting for him at home; a family to hustle back to. She had to get back to… well, Abby was at Mia’s for the night. If she put her DoorDash order in now, she might beat it home.

She sighed. God, she was so tired of being the bigger person. She slammed her locker shut with more force than necessary and turned.

“Jack—”

But he was already gone. Only the soft whisper of the door swinging closed at the far end of the corridor remained.

She stood there for a moment, keys clutched too tight in her fist, the echo of his voice still warm in her chest. Beth exhaled, long and slow. Then, she adjusted the strap of her bag, squared her shoulders, and walked out alone.

Maybe she’d get that drink anyway.

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antithetical-bolter · 1 day ago

Text

Hi everyone, here’s a WIP that fell out of my brain tonight.

4.5k words | Robby x Original Female Character

Seasoned ER nurse Iris had been treated to the best sex of her life almost exactly a month ago - from the attending she’s been low-key in love with for longer than she’d like to admit. Now, she’s sitting in her bathroom staring at three separate positive pregnancy tests. Unfortunately for her, Robby had dipped before she woke and has all but ghosted her since.

Title TBD? Pls suggest Taylor Swift themed titles if you have any.

This is the second fic I’ve ever posted anywhere and my first time posting to tumblr so pls be kind to me (but still tell me if you hate it), It’s also very much a first draft with minimal editing so keep that in mind

Well, shit.

That is most definitely two pink lines.

On three different tests. Iris Elizabeth McDowell, you fucking idiot.

Just my fucking luck, that getting tipsy and fucking the very hot and vey emotionally unavailable attending would result in a god damn pregnancy. I’d been blissfully ignorant the last 6 weeks, my periods have never been all that regular but as soon as the nausea and the sore boobs hit I knew it was time to face the music. And sure enough, the music was telling me that I was pregnant. With Michael Robinavitch’s baby.

Robby, who has barely made eye contact with me past what was required for patient care since it happened. Robby, who let it slip at the bar that he had been interested in me for months now. Robby, who I was unfortunately in love with. Had been for an embarrassingly long time now, so him up and leaving the morning after the best sex of my life triggered a full blown crisis. Almost a decade of pining, all for one (admittedly spectacular) night. He briefly had me considering switching jobs, but decided I wouldn’t let a man dictate my life. Even if it was that man.

Do I want to keep it? I think so. Should I want to keep it? Probably not.

It’s not like I’m some young new grad nurse who doesn’t have a career. I’ve been an ER nurse for 10 years now, working at the Pitt for all but the first two. I occasionally fill in for the charge nurses, I’m damn good at my job, and I have a great support system. But the thought of having to tell Robby that I’m carrying his child? Genuinely makes me want to puke. Again.

I have money, a 2 bedroom condo, a regular enough schedule that daycare wouldn’t be an issue. But do I really want to be a single mom? Put my body through the fucking wild ride that is pregnancy? Oh god. Pregnancy scrubs? The absolute worst. Not to mention actually giving birth.

Thankfully, the universe has seen fit to give me a single win in all this, and I have the next 4 days off to figure out how to be normal at work again. First order of business - call my OB. A brief phone call later, I have an appointment for 9:45. Just over two hours from now.

Fuck, I could really use my mom right now. Not like we were ever super close, with her living on the west coast and me getting the fuck out of my tiny ass hometown right after high school, but I’d like the option to call her and freak out. Both her and my dad were killed in a car accident just over three years ago, and somehow this scenario had never crossed my mind. Cue the tears - but they feel cathartic. A release I desperately need right now.

My therapist is going to lose her ever-loving mind. A quick look on her patient portal reveals that she has an opening this afternoon, so I guess that makes 2 wins from the universe for me today. I’ll take what I can get.

***

I am very picky about my medical providers. Working in the field myself means I have seen some shit doctors, and I just flat out refuse to put my care in the hands of someone I don’t trust. My OB is the best of the best, and she’s really earning her copay right now.

The transvaginal ultrasound was quick, confirming that I definitely have something cooking in there. The tech asked if I wanted to hear the heartbeat - but I said no. I’m right at the six week mark so a heartbeat can be heard at this point but I am not ready for that just yet. Not until I decide what I want to do. My OB, bless her, ran me through all of my options. She knows I know them, I’m an ER nurse after all, but it’s like all my schooling and experience fell out of my brain the second the stick(s) turned pink.

She encouraged me to take my time in making a decision. I have a few weeks to make a choice either way. We went through what it would look like to keep, terminate, and adopt. Having all the information laid out in front of me makes me feel both better and far worse.

She also tells me that no matter what the father wants, this is my choice. That I should lean on my people, and find someone I trust to tell. That if I do decide to terminate, I need to have someone with me after I take the medications to make sure everything progresses as it should.

I leave the appointment armed with 4 different pamphlets and 3 sonogram images that I have yet to look at.

Therapy is significantly harder. Erica, bless her, has been my therapist since I moved to Pittsburgh for college almost 15 years ago. She knows me far too well. Immediately clocks that it must be hard to be dealing with all of this without my mom’s support, which triggers a crying spell. Once I’ve recovered from that, we move on to how I’m going to tell Robby.

“I don’t know, Erica. He has barely looked at me since we slept together, I can count the non-patient related words he’s said to me since then on one hand and none of them were particularly nice.” That man needs therapy more than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s an incredible doctor and great to his friends, but ever since he fucked up his relationship with Collins so badly that she left the state he’s been especially moody.

“How do you think he’s going to react to this?”

“Not particularly well. He’ll freak out, not speak to me for a few days, and then inevitably come back around and say that he’ll help me with whatever I choose. I know that if I decide to keep it that he would help, but that it would be out of obligation and that is not what I want. I would never keep him away from his kid, but I can almost guarantee that I would be eternally fucked up over it.” Erica nods thoughtfully, taking a pause to formulate a reply that won’t send me over the edge.

“Maybe you should start by telling someone else, then. Maybe Samira, or Dana? Someone who will support you unconditionally without any emotional baggage taking up space in the back seat. They could help you decide what to say when you tell him, and support you if it goes as poorly as you think it will.” She gives me a very pointed look before continuing. “Also, and really think about this before brushing it off, maybe this conversation between you and Robby will help you both. A push that requires communication where there is a gap right now.”

“I - I, ugh. I just really, really don’t want to have to do this with him. He really hurt me when he just up and fucking ghosted me. Especially because he spent the whole night prior telling me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months, and a whole bunch of other shit that he clearly didn’t mean.” He doesn’t seem like the type to spout bullshit to get a woman into bed with him, but I really cannot come up with another reason for him to be acting this way.

“It’s fair and reasonable for you to be scared. And if he screws this up, you have my blessing to tell him to fuck off. But no matter what you choose, you will be okay. It might suck for a while, but you will come out the other side.” The unspoken words are loud - that I will be okay but that it’s going to take a while for me to get there.

“I know you’re right but it’s hard to see right now.” Pretty much impossible, actually.

“That’s okay, I’m here to remind you. Your homework this week is to tell someone you trust.” Sad that I don’t consider the father someone I trust, but he definitely is not making that list right now.

“I’m going to call Dana literally as soon as we hang up - Samira’s working right now.” She nods in response, flashes me what I’m sure is supposed to be a reassuring smile but it just doesn’t land. We schedule an appointment for next week and then we hang up. I give myself 10 minutes to spiral before I pick up the phone and call Dana.

***

Dana picks up her phone on the third ring.

“Hey, kid! Where are ya?” I can hear the sounds of what is likely a bar or restaurant in the background and belatedly realize that there’s ER social plans today - most of day shift is gathered at the sports bar near the hospital to watch the first Penguins game of the regular season. Hockey is one of the few sports I will watch voluntarily, and I definitely told Dana I would try and make it out tonight.

“Shit, Dana. I totally spaced, had a bit of a personal crisis. Can I call you later? When you aren’t surrounded by our coworkers?” I hear a booming laugh in the background and immediately place it as Robby’s. Just my fucking luck. “Can you just, uh - text me when you leave the bar?”

“No, Iris, wait. Are you okay?” Her voice changes, drops lower and sounds muffled. Like she’s covering her mouth while she speaks in an effort to afford me some privacy. She knows something happened between Robby and I, and has had a front row seat to whatever the fuck is going on right now so she’s sensitive to the fact that I might not want him knowing about said personal crisis.

“I mean, okay is not really the word I would use but I’m safe and not currently in any physical danger.” Very much not okay, but I don’t want to make her change her plans for me. It’s so rare that we’re all able to see each other outside the Pitt and I know she values this time with her friends.

“Iris, honey. What’s wrong?” I don’t answer, but I do start to cry. My best efforts at keeping my sobs quiet are unsuccessful. “You know what, never mind, I’m just gonna come over. Hang tight, okay?” I hear the screech of a chair as she scoots back and presumably stands up. Her voice is quieter as she speaks next, having moved the phone so she can talk to whoever else is at the table. “Change of plans, guys. I have to go. Enjoy the game and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The crying has not slowed in the thirty seconds it takes her to get outside.

“Dana, really, I appreciate it but you can stay and finish the game. I can wait.” I must not convince her, because she laughs at me. Fairly so, given that my words are very much broken up by sobs.

“Absolutely not. I’m on my way, I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

She arrives in eight.

I’m waiting by the door, and open it before she has a chance to knock. I’m still crying - no longer sobbing, but a pretty steady stream of tears track their way down my cheeks. I see the question forming on her lips but I beat her to it and hold out my three positive tests for her to see.

“Are we happy? Shopping? Making an appointment at the clinic?” Classic Dana - no big reaction, just thoughtful statements of action. Unfortunately I don’t know what I want.

“I don’t know yet. Took the tests early this morning and was able to get in last minute to see OB this morning to confirm it. I’m just about 6 weeks along and I have no fucking clue what I want to do.” She closes the door behind her and immediately pulls me into a tight hug. Rubs my back with one hand and runs the other through my hair, tells me that it’s okay to not know what I want and that she’s here for me no matter what. Does not ask me who the father is. Unfortunately that is the biggest piece to this puzzle and I know I need to tell her.

We move to my couch and she makes me drink some water before continuing to fill her in. I decide it’s best to just fucking do it - no preamble and no backstory.

“Robby’s the father.” That stops her in her tracks for a second. Her eyes go wide and I can tell she’s working extremely hard to keep her own emotions under wraps.

“Well, shit. So that ‘thing’ that happened between you guys in August was sex?” I nod. “And, let me hazard a guess here, he freaked the fuck out and now he’s unable to act normal around you.” I nod again.

“That about sums it up. He left before I woke up and any effort I made to talk to him about it ended with him getting snippy and walking away from me. My texts went unanswered so I just stopped trying.”

“What an asshole - I’m so sorry, Iris.” She leans over to pull me into another hug. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I mean I kinda have to, don’t I? Would be a real dick move of me to not tell him about this. Even if he doesn’t deserve me speaking to him ever again.”

“I think that depends on what you decide you want to do. If you want to keep it, then yeah you’re gonna have to tell him. But if you don’t, then we go to the clinic this week and he remains none the wiser. Either choice is okay, whatever you decide to do will be the right decision for you.” I take a deep breath, enjoying having her here to support me.

“See that’s the thing, my first instinct is that I want to keep it. I’ve always thought that I could go either way on having kids, but now that it’s staring me in the face I can’t imagine not going through with it.” Saying it out loud all but confirms my decision - this is happening. I’m going to have a baby. And I’m going to have to tell Robby.

“Then that’s what will happen. I’ve got your back through all of it, and if you want me to hide upstairs while you tell Robby I can do that. I’ll even chase him out if he acts a fool.” She’s serious, and I love her for that.

“Might not be a terrible idea. The last thing I want is for him to be involved purely out of obligation.” I debate stopping there, not divulging the depths of my (unadvised) feelings for him, but I’ve already gone this far so what’s the harm. “I’m like, stupidly in love with that man. Have been for a long time, and I was happy to have it kinda live in the background of my life up until recently. He approached me at that party we had for Jesse and we hit it off, and he was really sweet. Told me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months and that he hasn’t been able to get me out of his head. We each had a few drinks, but I wasn’t drunk. A little tipsy for sure, but sober enough to consent and be smart about it. Then he was gone when I woke up and you’ve seen how he’s been since then.” She grimaces a little before responding.

“Yeah, he’s been in rare Robby form. Very broody. But, Iris, I really think he meant what he told you. Handled it terribly for sure, but he’s so thoroughly fucked up in the past that his ex literally left the state. He’s probably just trying to protect you in his own, very fucked up way.” I laugh and try to wipe away the tears staining my face, but they just keep coming.

“Well he’s doing a terrible job. Is it crazy of me to make him go to therapy before I let him really be involved? Is that, like, blackmailing?” The last thing I want out of all this is for my kid to be hurt in the same way - their dad hot and cold, unable to really make a commitment to be present in their life.

“Maybe a bit, but I fully support you in that. I actually think that’s plenty reasonable, and if he gives you pushback then he’ll hear about it from me.” So quick to jump in and support me, even when the problem is one of her best and longest friends. “If it makes you feel any better, the second I said your name at the bar earlier he looked like he was two seconds away from taking my phone and checking on you himself.” A mirthful laugh escapes me at that, it does not make me feel better.

“Then blackmail it is. Now, how the fuck am I supposed to have this conversation with him when I can’t even get him to say three consecutive words to me that aren’t directly work related?”

We spend the next hour brainstorming, and by the time she leaves I feel better. I have a loose plan, my tear ducts have long since run dry, and I no longer feel like I’m about to fuck my whole life up.

I make myself a list before I go to sleep - things I need to buy for first trimester health, food I should avoid, and symptoms I’ve been experiencing so I can be as informed as possible.

My list exhausts me (that, and the tiny human I’m currently cooking) and I fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

***

I spend the next three days making more lists. Baby names, furniture, birth plans. If there’s a relevant list to be made - it’s currently up on my fridge.

My first day back at work since The Event (TM) is fine, I guess. Dana greets me with a hug and a quiet check in, and while this isn’t that out of the ordinary it is unusual that she pulls me off the floor to do it. I feel Robby’s eyes track us as we walk back in from the ambulance bay, especially when we get closer and Dana does not smell like she’s just come back from a smoke break.

I treat Robby to his own taste of the silent treatment. No niceties, no attempts at small talk. Strictly patient care and work related conversations, and honestly conversations is a generous word. Terse exchanges is more accurate. I don’t let it get in the way of my job, and if I do say so myself I really knock it out of the park nursing wise.

Three shifts pass in this manner, three shifts where I can feel him fucking watching me like he knows something is up. Thirty-six hours of me sitting on the biggest fucking secret I’ve ever kept when all I really want to do is yell “Hey, fuckface! You ghosted me and it sucked, and I’m fucking angry about. By the way, I’m pregnant with your child. Get some god damn therapy if you’d like to be involved!” And then walk out, leaving him to stand with the aftermath of his actions.

But, unfortunately, I am professional adult so I don’t do that. I do heavily fantasize about it though.

Samira notices that something is up right away, but she is also on a long stretch of shifts so we agree to hang out when our work weeks are both done. We meet for breakfast at the closest Denny’s and she spits her coffee out when I tell her that not only did I sleep with Robby, but that there’s going to be literal life long consequences for it come early June.

“Oh my god. I would ask if you’re okay, but I think I can answer that myself. When are you going to tell him?” I shrug as I finish my bite of French toast.

“Great question. He’s been fucking frosty towards me lately and it doesn’t have me feeling very generous towards him. I know he deserves to know but god the thought of that conversation makes me want to punch a wall.” Another bite of toast. “I know that a few weeks after we slept together was the anniversary of Pitt Fest and Adamson’s death, but the way he’s been treating me does not make me want to tell him. It makes me want to be spiteful and keep it from him until the last possible second, so he can be as blindsided as I feel right now. Very immature of me, and I won’t do that but it’s nice to entertain it for a bit.”

“He’s clearly fumbling the bag pretty hard right now, but you and I both know he’s going to do the right thing.”

“I know, and that’s almost worse. If he’s going to be all emotionally constipated while attempting to be present I am going to lose my shit. Dana said she thinks I am well within my rights to threaten him with therapy, so I think that’s my game plan.”

“That’s - that’s actually a great idea. If anything will get that man into therapy it’s the threat of potentially fucking up his child’s life.” She chuckles a bit. “Can I tell Jack? I will obviously swear him to secrecy but it might be nice to have him in your corner.”

“Please do - but if he tells Robby before I do I will kill him.”

“And I will help you hide the body. Also, he’s picking me up from this meal so if you’d like to fill him in yourself you’re about to have your window.” Like she summoned him, Jack Abbot walks in the door. He immediately finds Samira and she waves him over.

I decide that I do not have another long, emotional story in me and just spit it out.

“Hi, Jack.” He looks at me a little weird, we’re friendly at work but I don’t think I’ve ever called him by his first name before. “Welcome to the party, you’re about to hear some very classified information so prepare yourself.” He stares at me, a little stunned, but I just keep on talking. “I’m pregnant and keeping it. Robby’s the father, but I haven’t told him yet.” His jaw drops open, and he has to open and close it a few times before actual words come out.

“Uhhh, wow. Fuck. Are you, uhm, are you going to tell him?”

“I mean, yeah. Not sure when or how, but yeah. What’s your opinion on me using this as an opportunity to threaten him into therapy?” This gets a loud, genuine laugh from him.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. You want my therapists number? I’ve given it to him multiple times but he’s clearly never used it.” Abbot doesn’t wait for me to answer, just pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Are you doing okay? Managing symptoms alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks. Freaking the fuck out, but okay.” With that, I decide I’ve had enough social interaction for the day. “Now that all that’s out of the way, I’m going to head home. Samira, love you, thanks for the support, and Jack I’m a little sorry to drag you into all this but thankful that you’re here anyway.” I leave them at that, dropping enough cash to cover my meal and all but running to my car so I can have my next meltdown in peace.

***

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I let another two full weeks pass before I even consider telling Robby. Erica, Dana, and Samira are all on my case a little bit but ultimately don’t push me too hard.

It takes an extra long session with Erica, complete with roll play and multiple outcomes of the conversation for me to feel even slightly ready to broach the subject with him. We decide that I’ll attempt to talk to him after our next shift together, a rare night where neither of us have to be in the next morning.

Dana knows, and as she leaves out the ambulance bay doors she shoots me a very encouraging thumbs up and a ‘call me!’ While I wait for him to leave. I don’t have to wait much longer. 10 minutes pass before I see him walk out, backpack slung over his shoulders and thick winter jacket thrown on like it’s armor. He doesn’t turn his head to look at me as he passes.

I parked at the very end of the lot today, hoping to use my car as an excuse to follow him for a bit. As we approach my green Honda CRV, I know it’s time to bite the bullet.

“Hey, uh, Robby? Can we talk for a sec?” He pauses, takes an AirPod out, and turns to face me. He looks like shit. Tired, like he hasn’t had a good sleep in weeks. I feel mean for thinking it, but I’m glad he’s getting just as much (little?) rest as I am.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, Iris. Now’s not a good time.” He maybe facing me, but he’s not really looking at me. Fucking infuriating.

“It won’t take long, please. It’s kinda important.” Fuck him for making me plead to have a conversation - this is starting to feel a little humiliating. I can feel the tears forming and threatening to spill out, but he isn’t looking at me so he doesn’t see them.

“Not now. There isn’t really anything for us to talk about. I have to go, I’ll see you later.” And with that, he’s got his AirPod back in and is walking away. Fucking dick. The hot sting of rejection sits heavy in my chest, and I have to take a few minutes before I feel steady enough to drive home.

I work myself up pretty well on the way home, moving from shame to anger. I kick my shoes off in the entry way and slam my bag down, feeling like I need to scream. I decide a run will suffice and quickly change into my running gear. As I slip on my shoes and grab my running belt I decide there’s something I need to do first, and pull my phone out to send the riskiest text I’ve ever sent.

Iris (7:58pm)

Hi, asshole. I have been working up the nerve to talk to you for weeks, but since I apparently don’t deserve even five minutes of your time I guess this is how you’re going to find out.

I attach a picture of the tests and hit send, and then immediately send a follow up.

Iris (7:59pm)

Before you have the fucking audacity to ask, yes it’s yours and I’ll be keeping it.

I immediately put my phone on do not disturb and start my watch so I can track my run. I hit the pavement with a vengeance. My feet feel heavy beneath me, and it takes me longer than usual to feel warmed up enough to really run. I play my angriest playlist, and run until I no longer feel like murdering the father of my unborn child.

I hit my favorite smoothie place on my way home, and as I walk and warm down I call Dana.

“So I told him.” She gasps. “But, uh, over text. I tried to talk to him as he left but he blew me off and I was just so fucking angry and maybe jumped the gun a little, but it’s done now.”

“How are you feeling about it, hon?”

“Terrified. Have not checked to see if he’s responded. A little elated? But like, in a manic way so maybe that’s not a good thing.” Dana laughs and reassures me.

“It’s alright, kid. That’s a big step you just took and you tried to do it in person, so fuck it. You want me to come over?” She asks, just as I turn the corner onto my street. My heart all but stops as I see an unfortunately familiar suburban parked in front of my house, and my breathing stops with it when I see that the man himself is sitting on my front steps.

“Ah fuck.”

“He’s at your house, isn’t he?” She’s far too smart for her own good, or maybe she just knows him too well.

“Yup.” God dammit, past Iris. Did you really have to send those texts?

“I can still come over if you want.” Seriously considering taking her up on that.

“No, I’ll handle him. But, maybe later? If and when I need to cry about this?”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone. You’ve got this, kid. Give him hell.”

#timezone reblog

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