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Hey guy! So sorry for the radio silence, I had a family member I was really close to pass away and on top of that still had to balance finishing this semester of school and workâbut weâll be back to our regularly scheduled brainrot soon đ

#I promise Iâm doing alright and school just finished so weâre so back#I miss brainrotting about Jack with yall#the pitt#the pitt x reader#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#â„ - Mary Talks
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Ahhhhh those two are breaking my heart ahhhhh wonderful chapter
I know, they finally talk and she tells him to shut up đ these two am a right?
Jack: đ«©
Reader: đ«©
Me, when I need to establish their relationship: đ«©
#Itâs okay I love them tho#and they love each other#maybe#the pitt#the pitt x reader#Jack abbot#Jack abbot x reader#á° - IAL!reader#â„ - Jack Abbot
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My Name, My Undoing | In Another Light (3)



In Another Light masterlist - Jack x Ex!reader
warnings. warnings. age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 27), exes to lovers, slowburnish, jack and reader are bad at feelings, mentions of sex, reader is hinted to have some form of depression and anxiety, death of a child, reader has a panic attack, possible suicidal ideation, jack talks reader off the ledge, more to come as series continues
summary. You couldn't take it anymore, and then jack finds you.
notes. guys they actually talk! are we so excited? I actually love this chapter, and it really shows how jack and reader feel about each other right now so enjoy until next time!
wc. 3500+
You donât remember how you got to the roof.
It wasnât on purpose, not really. You couldnât even say it was by choice. Just motion. Just instinct. Youâd moved through the hallways like a ghost, past the flickering lights of the other floors, past the rest of the hospital still stained with echoes of its wrongdoings and failures. Up the back stairwellâwhere it took you three flights of stairs to realize you were running.
And now, here you were.
Always here.Â
The rooftop of PTMC was still, except for the soft hum of the HVAC units and the buzz of a broken security light above the door. The city sprawled beneath you like it was asleep, distant and disinterested. It was nearly midnightâtoo late for visitors, too early for any sort of real relief. That strange hour when the hospital turned into something else. When everything youâd been holding back started to claw its way out.
You gripped the black metal of the guardrail with both hands, knuckles white.
Your heart was poundingâtoo fast. Way too fast.
At first, you thought it was just residual adrenaline. A bad trauma, the worst one youâve had in a while. Then you caught sight of Jack again after the code, leaning against the supply closet door outside the room like he owned the ER. Like you didnât just lose a little girl. Like what just happened was normal or inevitable.Â
But it wasnât just thatâŠ
Your chest felt tight. Not like in the poetic, sad way. In the real way. Like your lungs couldnât quite inflate. Like every breath was getting caught halfway down.
You sucked in air through your nose, out through your mouth. In. Out. Youâd coached patients through this before. Youâd knelt beside stretchers and whispered them through panic, through pain, through the kind of fear that turned people into strangers.Â
But now you couldnât even talk yourself down.
What could you do right?Â
Your fingers were tingling. Your vision was dark and swam at the edges. You tried to focus on the skyline, the blinking red tip of the UPMC tower. You tried grounding yourselfâfive things you could see, four you could touchâbut your body was already moving without you. Too far ahead. Too loud.
You tried so hard.Â
The air was so loud.
Everything was spinning and you couldnât get a grip. Couldnât stop the thoughts from tearing you up inside.
Youâd done this before. Youâd worked this shift before. Youâd lived through worse than losing just one patient.
So why did it feel like you were dying?
Your knees buckled a little, and you dropped into a crouch beside the ledge after passing the railing, arms wrapping tight around yourself like you could hold your tired bones together if you just squeezed hard enough. Your face pressed against the sleeve of your undershirt as the tears cameânot gently, not soft.Â
Violent.
 Gut-wrenching.Â
Shaking sobs that left your throat raw.
And stillâyour chest wouldnât expand.
You felt stupid.
You felt weak.
You hated every bit of this.
You hated that you had come back. Hated how easy it had been to step into your old shoes, like no time had passed. Hated how Jack still looked at you like he knew youâd fall apart eventually.
And here you were.
Falling apart.
A soundâdistant, metallicârattled behind you. Maybe a door, maybe a car below, maybe just the wind playing tricks. But you didnât turn.
You stayed curled up on the rooftop ledge, hidden from the light, hidden from the world, letting the worst of it bleed out of you into the dark August night.
You didnât need help. You Couldnât help.Â
You just needed space.
Just five minutes to breathe again.
Just five minutes to stop pretending you were fine...
40 minutes earlier
Theyâd rushed Sophie into Trauma 1 just after 11:00 p.m.âJohn had been the one to call you in.
"Sheâs crashing," heâd said. "We need the whole team!"
Sophie. Three years old. Belly pain. Fever. Youâd seen her plenty of times tonight, tucked her into her bed with a warm blanket and a quiet promise that sheâd be okay. Telling her mother it was probably just appendicitis, and that the scans you were about to present her would tell you more.Â
She wasnât supposed to code.
You werenât supposed to be losing her.
But by the time you got back to her bedside, she was blue around the lips, more so than she was when she arrived, and barely breathing. Her tiny body limp on the stretcher as two nurses started compressions. The rapid response team was already in motion. You jumped in without thinkingâhands moving, voice steady even as the inside of your chest cracked open.
Epinephrine. Airway. Fluids. Chest compressions.
The clock ticked louder than the monitors.
You watched her flatline twice.
You noticed when Jack stepped into the room, silent at the edge of the chaos, watching as you, John, and the rest of the team worked in tandem. He didnât say anythingâjust nodded once when the other attending looked to him.
Backup, or oversight. A cold sort of comfort.
Everyone tried for sixteen minutes.
And when Johen called timeâ23:28âyou were the one holding the bag mask still pressed to her mouth, your normally steady hands trembling.
The room emptied quickly. Too quickly. You were left standing near her side, eyes locked on the stuffed bunny clutched in her arm, matted with sweat and betadine.
You didnât realize how hard you were breathing until the ringing in your ears started. You stood frozen in the middle of Trauma One, the silence around you so sharp it felt like glass. The monitors were off now, the code cart was already wheeled out, and the team had cleared with a kind of practiced sorrow that only came from too many nights like this.
You were still staring at Sophieâs bunny, your fingers curled slightly like you didnât know what to do with them now.
âHey.â Johnâs voice came from your right, gentle, lowâcarefully measured like he knew how you felt. He wasnât wearing gloves anymore, and his white sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, forearms still dusted with powdered latex and sweat. His dark eyes didnât move past your face.
âIâll talk to her mom,â he said, nodding slightly toward the hallway, toward the quiet roomâwhere you knew Sophieâs mother had been waiting. âYou donât have to.â
You blinked. Swallowed. âNo. No, I shouldââ
âNo,â he said again, firmer this time. âIâll do it. Iâll⊠Iâll figure out what the hell happened here. Go upstairs or sit down orâI donât care, just take a second. You donât need to be a hero right now.â
You opened your mouth like you were going to argue, but the words wouldnât come. You were barely holding yourself upright.
âShe liked you,â John added, softer this time. âThat kid lit up every time you walked in the room, you didnât deserve this either.â
That broke something. You let out a shaky breath, looking anywhere but the stretcher.
John squeezed your arm briefly, then moved past you toward the door. âIf youâre not gone in five minutes, Iâm kicking your ass out of here myself.â
It wasnât a threat. It was a lifeline.
John was good at giving you those.
You stood there a moment longerâjust long enough to see the dark haired male disappear down the hallâand then you turned, heart pounding as you walked straight past Jack.
He was outside the trauma bay. Leaning against the far wall where one of the supply closets was, arms crossed. Not smug. Not distant either. Just watching you like he knew what was coming. Like he could see the unraveling starting at your seams.
And maybe he could.
But he didnât move. Didnât say anything.
You didnât look at him.
Didnât say a word.
You just walkedâthrough the ER, through the hospital, into the stairwell, and kept going until the weight of it all finally knocked you down.
Present
You curled further in on yourself, forehead pressing to your knees. Your scrubs were damp with sweat and tears, your fingers cramping from the way youâd been gripping your sleeves.
You couldnât stop seeing her face.
Three years old, with curls stuck to her fevered forehead and those wide, scared eyes that had looked up at you for reassurance in place of her mother. You had given it to her. You had promised her she would be okay.
You lied.
And now a mom was down there somewhere without her baby. Sitting in a quiet room with the weight of the world collapsing on her chest. While you were up hereâuseless. Shaking. Sobbing. Falling apart because the truth was you didnât know how to carry this anymore.
The night held a weight the day could never carry.
The door behind you creaked faintly again, metal on metal.
You flinched but didnât turn around.
Heavy steps crossed the gravel-dusted rooftop. Slow. Sturdy. Hesitant.
And then silence. Whoever it was stopped a few feet back, giving you space. Maybe unsure of whether to come closer, or maybe just unwilling to intrude on a grief this loud.
You didnât look up. You didnât need to.
You knew who it was.
Of course it was Jack.
The silence stretched out between you, hanging there like the fog of your breath in the thick air. He didnât speak. Didnât offer comfort. Didnât reach for you like someone who had the right to touch you. He just stood there, a steady presence on the peripheryâanchoring you in a way that made you feel both seen and raw.
âI told her sheâd be okay,â you croaked out eventually, voice wrecked and hoarse from the sobs. âShe was scared, and I told them it was probably just appendicitis. I told her sheâd be okay.â
Jack didnât answer.
You finally looked over your shoulder. Just a glance. He was standing with his hands on his hips, his jaw clenched but not too tight, hazel eyes locked on youânot pitying. Not judging. Just⊠there, always there. Like gravity. Like he wasnât going anywhere.
Your breath hitched again, chest spasming.
âShe died thinking I lied to her,â you whispered.
This time, he stepped a little closer, but still didnât cross that invisible line. Just enough that you could feel the weight of him beside you, the way you used to feel it late at night, when the world was too quiet and his presence was the only thing loud enough to hold you together.
âShe didnât die because of you,â Jack said, his voice low and firm. âYou did everything right.â
You shook your head, curling back in. âIt wasnât enough.â
âItâs never enough,â he said, after a beat. âBut that doesnât mean itâs your fault.â
The wind picked up slightly, brushing your damp baby hairs back from your face. You were still shaking. Still crying. But there was something about hearing his voice that made the panic in your chest loosen just a fraction.
Not gone. Not better.
But less alone.
And sometimes that was the best you could hope for.
You didnât ask him to stay, you never have.
He just did.
Quietly. Unmoving.
Like he knew what it meant to come undone in the middle of the night, on the roof of a trauma center, where the only thing keeping you from breaking was the sound of another person breathing just a few feet away.
Like he remembered what your silence sounded like.
And knew exactly what it meant.
You donât know how long you two sat thereâsweat cooling, panic fading into exhaustion. The sobs came less frequently now, worn out by the force of them, replaced by tremors that wouldnât stop no matter how tightly you hugged your knees.
Jack still hadnât moved.
Eventually, you spoke again, voice cutting the silence.
âI shouldnât have come back.â
Jack didnât answer right away. The silence lingered for a beat longer than you could handle. And then:
âBut you did.â
You flinched at the sound of his voice againâmore than a whisper now. Real. Solid. Like you couldnât pretend this wasnât happening.
He stepped closer again. Still not too close. Still giving you the space you needed. But near enough now that when you finally looked up again, you could see the shadows under his eyes. He looked tired. Not just shift tired, but something deeper.Â
You wondered if he saw the same thing in you.
âYou shouldnât be up here alone,â he said. âNot like this.â
That got to you. You laughed, or something close to itâhollow and mean. âNot like this,â you repeated back, wiping under your eyes with the back of your hand, definitely smearing your mascara. âAnd what would be the right way, Jack? Crying in front of the woman who just lost her daughter? Losing it in front of everyone downstairs?â
His mouth twitched, not quite a frown. âI didnât meanââ
âI know,â you cut in. âI know what you meant.â
There was a thick pause between you. Then, quietly:
âThis is the first time youâve said anything to me in over a year.â
Jackâs shoulders tensed. You saw it. Just barely. But he didnât deny it.
You didnât mean to look at him like thatâraw, vulnerable. It slipped out anyway.
And it was too much.
Too much to be near him like this. Too much to feel everything that had been packed away and ignored and buried beneath a year of silence and pretending you didnât care. You couldnât do this. Not now. Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.
âDonât,â you said, voice cracking. âPlease, Jack. Donât do this now.â
âDo what?â
âTalk to me,â you snapped, harsher than you meant to, the words burning in your throat. âPretending like nothing happened. Like we can justâpick up right where we left off, like before we got together and pretend that weâre just friends.â
Jack didnât flinch. But he didnât look away, either.
âIâm not pretending nothing happened,â he said. His voice was lower now. Careful. âYou know me better than that.â
âDo I? Because I distinctly remember you saying that I didnât know you at all,â you whispered.
Silence again. And this time it was the kind that cut.
You stood up slowly, every muscle trembling from effort and exhaustion, your heart pounding againânot from panic now, but from the weight of his presence. The sound of his voice. His stupid face. That look in his eyes that still undid you.
Your arms wrapped around your middle like they might hold in the scream rising in your chest.
âIâm not ready for this.â
Jack nodded once. âOkay.â
âI mean it,â you said, voice higher, sharp with panic again. âI canât do this. I canât talk about usânot tonight. I canât breathe, Jack. I can barely fucking think.â
âI know,â he said softly. âIâm not asking you to.â
You let out a broken sound, somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and turned away again, facing the skyline like it might ground you.
Your voice was smaller when you spoke again. âWhy did you follow me up here?â
Jack didnât hesitate. âBecause I knew youâd come up here to suffer alone⊠and I didnât want that for you.â
That almost ruined you.
Your throat clenched tight. Your jaw shook.
âI thought you didnât care anymore,â you said, barely audible.
âI never stopped.â
The words hit you square in the chest. No warning. No soft lead-in. And suddenly it was all too loud againâthe wind, your breathing, your thoughts, your past slamming into you like a freight train.
You dropped your face into your hands and shook your head violently. âShut up! I canât do thisââ
Jack didnât move closer.
But he didnât leave either.
So you stood there, falling apart all over againâheart racing, chest squeezing, eyes burningâwhile the man who broke your heart watched it all happen in silence. Not asking for forgiveness. Not offering a fix.
Just staying.
Just standing there with you.
Because maybe thatâs all either of you could give tonight.
âHey,â Jack said, voice low. âCan we⊠maybe take a step back from the edge?â
You didnât answer.
Your knees still felt like they might give out again, and your lungs were tight, your hands trembling from where youâd braced them on your thighs.
âI know you donât want anyone to see you like this,â he added, softer now. âLeast of all me.â
You blinked hard, staring at the roof gravel, the skyline blurring past the haze in your eyes. Jack exhaled, steadying himself, maybe steadying you. âYou donât have to say anything. But justâcâmon. Letâs step back a little, yeah?â
You were quiet for a few seconds too long, until he took a half-step closer and offered his handânot reaching, not pushing. Just there.
âCanât have you doing your best Batman impression up here,â he murmured. âYouâre way too tired for vigilante hours.â
It was a weak joke, but it landed gently. Your breath hitched in something that couldâve been a laugh if it hadnât hurt so much.
âYouâre not funny,â you mumbled, barely above a whisper.
âNever claimed to be,â Jack said, just as quiet.
You finally took his hand.
His grip was warm. Solid. Familiar in the way that made your chest hurt even more.
He helped you to your feet slowly, like he remembered how your body locked up when you were overwhelmed. Like he still knew you, even after all this time.
Once upright, you swayed slightly, and he didnât let go. Just stayed steady beside you, his hand still loosely curled around yours, like if he let go too quickly, you might fall apart again.
âYou didnât have to stay,â you said, trying not to look at him.
âI know.â
You swallowed hard. âYou shouldnât be here.â
âProbably not,â Jack said gently. âBut I am.â
Silence fell again, thick and full of everything neither of you were ready to say.
âI didnât know where else to go,â you finally admitted, the words leaving you brittle.
âI know,â he repeated.
You stared out at the city, your chest aching, your eyes hot. Jack stood closeâclose enough that you could feel his presence, but far enough not to crowd you.
âDo you wanna sit down again, now that we know youâre not going to hurl yourself off the roof?â he asked. âOr do you wanna go back down?â
In truth, you didnât know what you wanted. Everything was too much right now. But the one thing you knew was that you didnât want to be alone, even if that meant your company was Jack.
Not right now.
So you nodded, to what you donât exactly know.
And Jack didnât say anything else.
He just stayed. Right there with you, in the quiet. Not fixing it. Not filling the silence.Â
Just staying.
Something you didnât know he could do.Â
Eventually your breathing slowed, falling in pace with Jack's own. The sniffles still continued, accompanied by a few quick, short breaths. The stutter in your chest did nothing to dull the overall ache, but for the time being, it was enough to just sit in silence.
You glanced over at him. He was sitting forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees, eyes fixed on some far-off point on the floor like it held all the answers he didnât have. The overhead light cast soft shadows over his face, catching the curve of his cheekbone, the dip in his brow. His salt-and-pepper curls were disheveled, pushed back like heâd run his hands through them too many times tonight. The freckles lined across his nose and cheeks were more noticeable under stars tonight, like faint constellations on skin gone pale with stress.
His hazel eyes were tired now, or maybe they always were and you never took the time to notice. Dull around the edges, just like your own. There was a tremble in his jaw, not quite a twitch, more like tension he hadnât figured out how to let go of. A few daysâ worth of stubble darkened his face, and beneath it all, his muscles tensed beneath his scrubs like he was bracing for impact from you that never came.
The two of you hadnât said much. Just sat there, breathing beside one another like the old days, holding silence like it was the only thing keeping you two upright. But you didnât need words. Not when the grief was so visible on himâetched in the tight set of his shoulders, the way his thumb moved absently against the seam of his pants, like he needed to do something with his hands or else fall apart.
You swallowed hard, eyes stinging again. Not because you were alone in thisâbut because you werenât.
Because he looked just as wrecked as you felt right now.
And you didnât know what to say to him.Â
#the pitt#the pitt max#the pitt hbo#the pitt x reader#the pitt x you#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#Jack Abbot x you#Jack Abbott#Jack Abbott x reader#Jack Abbott x you#Dr. Jack Abbot#Dr. Jack Abbot x reader#Dr. Jack Abbot x you#Dr. Jack Abbott#Dr. Jack Abbott x reader#Dr. Jack Abbott x you#Jack Abbot fanfic#Jack Abbot smut#á° - IAL!reader#â„ - Jack Abbot
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Boy-dad!Jack is always on my brain, because sureâweâre conditioned to think that tough men deserve soft things at the end of the day, like raising a little girl with their loving partners. But little boys can be soft tooâŠ
And Jack knows that better than most.
Because it isnât just about protection. Itâs about breaking the cycle. Itâs about looking at a tiny version of himself and thinking, You wonât grow up afraid to feel. Not like I did.
Itâs the way he crouches down to his sonâs level instead of towering above him. The way he says, âTell me what youâre feeling,â instead of, âToughen up.â
The way he holds him close after a nightmare and murmurs, âYouâre safe, Iâve got you,â like a promise heâd rather die than break.
Jackâs the kind of dad who teaches his son to say âIâm sorry,â and mean it. Who tells him it's okay to be scared, to ask for help, to wear his heart on his sleeve. Who high-fives him when he says something kind. Whoâs patient when he cries. Who celebrates when he dares to be brave and vulnerable.
Because Jack doesnât want to just raise a good man. He wants to raise a well rounded one. One who knows that softness isn't something to earnâIt's something you're allowed to carry.
LikeâJack, who grew up with god-knows-what kind of pressure to bottle it up and be strong, now kneeling next to his son after a hard day and saying, âItâs okay to cry, buddy,â while gently brushing hair out of his little boyâs face.
Jack, teaching him that strength isnât silence, that protection doesnât mean control, that gentleness isnât weakness.
Itâs not just about giving his son a better childhood than he hadâItâs about giving him the freedom to be whole.
Because somewhere deep down, Jack knows what it feels like to be a little boy who didnât get that.
And he refuses to pass it on to his son.
Boy-dad!Jack supremacy, honestly.
#square up fr what do y'all know about Boy-dad!Jack?#You cannot tell me this man wasn't made to raise gentleman#Specifically two boys but that's not for this post#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#Jack Abbot x you#á° - Boy-dad!Jack#â„ - Jack Abbot#The Pitt#The Pitt x reader#The Pitt x you
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What we donât say | In Another Light (2)



In Another Light masterlist - Jack Abbot x Ex!reader
warnings. age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 27), exes to lovers, slowburnish, jack and reader are bad at feelings, mentions of sex, reader is hinted to have some forms of depression and anxiety, more to come as series continues
summary. finally thrown into the steady chaos of your first night back, the rhythm of the ER feels both familiar and jarring. working alongside john brings a strange comfortâthe buzz of night shift grounding you as you fall back into old habits. itâs not always smooth sailing, but thereâs something reassuring about being back with your original crew. as you catch snippets of hospital gossip that has unfolded in your absence, jack continues to linger in your periphery, never far out of sight, his watchful gaze a quiet constant as patients trickle in and the adrenaline begins to build.
notes. finally getting into the longer chapters! sorry for the long wait guys, I got so busy with school, work, and moving that I had like no time to work on this but I hope you guys enjoy as always! sorry there's not much jack in this chapter, but y'all get work besties john and parker today.
wc. 3200+
âHeâs staring at you again.â
âOh.â
 Your response was automatic, barely registering over the sound of the monitor beeping and the gentle click of your pen as you jotted down vitals.
Shen didnât say anything else. He didnât have to. You knew who he meant.
It was 9:45 when the trauma came inâmotorcycle collision, blunt chest trauma, possible internal bleeding. You and Shen jumped in without needing to speak. You slipped into your roles like second skin.
The trauma bay buzzed with urgency, voices overlapping, gloves snapping on, the patient groaning through a fractured rib. John barked out vitals from the monitor, and you moved quickly to start a second IV, checking his airway as Shen called for a chest tube setup.
You worked around each other seamlessly. Years of rhythm between the two of you smoothed even the roughest moments. Where Shen was calm and technical, you were groundingâsteady hands and gentle words. Together, you made a solid team.
And you could feel the eyes on you.
Not the patientâs.
Not the trauma techâs.
Jack.
You didnât have to look to know. You felt him staring from outside the bay, the way you might feel the press of gravityâunseen, constant, and inescapable.
He didnât say a word. Just stood a few feet back with Bridget, quietly observing, watching the flow of care, the choices you made.
The night charge nurse muttered something to him that you couldnât hear due to the glass wall, and Jack gave the smallest shake of his head, like he didnât want to respond. His arms were crossed, expression unreadable as always.
Still watching.
You didnât give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes.
The trauma stabilized after twenty minutes. The patient was wheeled off to CT, and the room cleared little by little until it was just you, John, and the dull thrum of adrenaline still in your veins.
You peeled off your gloves, tossing them in the bin, and took a breath like it was the first one youâd had in hours.
Shen passed you a clean towel to wipe the blood off your forearm. âHe doesnât usually look at anyone like that.â
You gave a short laugh through your nose. âThat supposed to make me feel better?â
âNo,â Shen said plainly. âJust seems worth saying, itâs good to have you back by the way.â
You glanced toward the glass of the trauma bay door where Jack had been. He was gone now. Only a few nurses and other doctors lingered, all working in their own right.
You sighed. âWe should check on a few of the other patients before we get his CT results back.â
âAfter you, Doctor.â
You walked out without another glancing back at the taller man.Â
Jack could watch all he wanted. No matter how much his gaze irritated you.Â
You still had a job to do.
By the time you and Shen stepped out of the trauma bay, the adrenaline had faded just enough to leave a dull ache behind your eyes. But there was no time to linger. A new patient was already being wheeled into one of the rooms down the hallâchest pain, late 60s, borderline hypotensive. Shen caught the update first and gave a subtle nod toward the room. You followed him in once again, slipping a fresh pair of gloves on before even reading the chart.
The next stretch of time blurred together. You moved on autopilotâtalking the patient through the process, charting on the fly, handing off labs, adjusting meds. Nothing dramatic, nothing flashy. Just work. Always work. The kind of work that kept people breathing and the ER from falling apart.
Somewhere in the middle of getting an EKG printed and ordering cardiac enzymes, you felt it againâthat flicker of attention.
You didnât stop to look this time.
You just kept moving. Talked to the patientâs wife. Wrote orders. Laughed at a joke she cracked. The rhythm of the shift slowly took back over, and with every task completed, you felt your body sink deeper into the comfort of control. Of knowing your purpose here.
Eventually, John peeled off to check on labs, and you were left alone in the room, pressing gently over the patientâs ribs to check for pain.
Outside the curtain, you could hear footsteps, voices, someone wheeling past a portable monitor. The usual. Background noise.
You finished your note. You patted the patientâs arm and reassured him gently before stepping back into the corridor. Another nurse passed you, calling your name for help in a room two doors down. You responded before your brain even fully caught up.
It unnerved you how quickly you fell back into the rhythm of things. This was supposed to be hard. You were supposed to feel out of place, off-balance, like youâd forgotten how to do this.
But instead, your body remembered before your mind even caught upâhands steady, words automatic, instincts still razor sharp, just like in the mornings. It felt wrong, almost, how easy coming back had been coming back to night shift.
Sure, talking to Jackâif you could call that awkward two-minute exchange "talking"âhad been unsettling to say the least. A quiet minefield of tension layered under clinical indifference. But even that felt dulled, like a memory half-erased by time and stubbornness.
And he was everywhere. Or it felt like he was.
Just about every corner, every hallway, every half-glance through glass. Sometimes youâd turn and see his back as he walked away. Other times, it was just the edge of his voice, deep and clipped as he spoke to someone at the nursesâ station or barked out a med order mid-resus.
Whatever this was, it was different.
The air between you wasnât angry anymoreâthick with unsaid things and grief-shaped silence sure. But it wasnât neutral, either. There was still something there. Sharp.Â
Unresolved.
You werenât sure what unnerved you more: the weight of that... or how much of it you were starting to ignore just to get through the shift.
You checked your watch. A little after 10:30pm
Still more than half the night to go.
Shen passed you in the hallway, handing off a chart without missing a beat. âTheyâre dumping another one on us. Room 12. You want it, or should I?â
You took the clipboard. âIâve got it.â
Because workâthis workâwas the only thing that made sense right now.
And until the rest of it caught up, youâd keep your head down and your hands busy.
Room 12 was dim when you walked in, lights low and the gentle whir of the wall-mounted fan humming in the background. The mother looked up the moment you entered, eyes wide with worry and fatigue. She was holding her daughter close against her chest, rocking slightly in the stiff-backed chair beside the bed.
âHi there, you must be mom.â you said gently before introducing yourself, offering a quick, reassuring smile as you stepped into the bay and pulled on gloves. âWhatâs your daughterâs name?â
The mother adjusted the child in her arms slightly. âSophie. Sheâs three.â
You nodded, crouching a little to get to eye level. âHi Sophie,â you said softly, watching for any signs of alertness. The girl was flushed, her eyes glassy and barely tracking movement. Her skin was warm and a bit damp under the harsh fluorescent light. You reached for your penlight. âCan I take a quick look, sweetheart?â
Sophie didnât flinch when the light passed over her pupils.
Not good.
You straightened, exchanging a glance with the mother. âYou said sheâs been like this all day?â
The woman nodded quickly, voice low and frantic. âStarted last night with a little cough. But this morning she felt warm. I gave her Tylenol but the fever never broke. And sheâs barely said anything all dayâshe just⊠sleeps. She never sleeps like this. She hasnât eaten either, and she feels so hot, like⊠like sheâs burning up.â
You placed a hand on the girlâs forehead, confirming the fever. Her breathing was shallow and slightly rapid, her lips tinged just the faintest bit blue at the edges.
âIâm going to have a nurse come in and start a line,â you told the mom, keeping your voice calm. âWeâre going to draw some labs, give her some fluids, and get her fever under control while we run some tests. Right now, sheâs dehydrated and thatâs making things worse, but weâre going to help her, okay?â
The mother nodded quickly, trying to keep her composure. âIs it serious?â
âItâs something weâll need to work on, fastâ you said carefully. âItâs good that you brought he rin, weâre gonna do everything we can to get her better.â
You stepped outside just long enough to flag down a nurse for an urgent line and stat labs. When you turned back to the door, Jack was standing just a few feet away.
He hadnât been there when you walked out.
He mustâve caught part of the conversation. His expression was unreadable again, jaw tight, eyes scanning the chart in his hand. But when his gaze shifted to you, there was something softerâflickering behind the steely gaze.
You raised a brow. âDo you need something, Dr. Abbot?â
He didnât answer right away. âI saw the chart. Thought I might lend a hand,â
You nodded slowly, measured. âIâll let you know. Iâve got it under control for now, I donât need another babysitter.â
âOkay,â he said, but didnât move. Just kept looking at you like there was more he wanted to say, like maybe now wasnât the time but he was teetering on the edge of it anyway.
Before the silence could stretch too long, Shen called down the hall, âChest pain guyâs CT is back. You want to go over it?â
You turned your head. âYeah, Iâll be there in a sec.â
When you looked back, Jack was already turning away.
Just like that. Never staying for long.
You exhaled slowly, bracing a hand against the wall for a second before heading down the hall to join Shen.
Still more than six hours left in the shift. And Jack, it seemed, wasnât going to stop hovering.
But like youâd told yourself before: you had a job to do.
And right now, a sick little girl needed you more than Jack Abbot ever did.Â
When you found John he was already scrolling through the chest CT on the monitor in the corner of the nurseâs station, one hand braced against the desk, the other holding a protein bar heâd clearly forgotten to eat.
âFind anything?â you asked, stepping up beside him.
âYeah,â he said, offering you the screen. âPulmonary contusion, maybe a small hemothorax, but no major vascular injury. Couldâve been worse.â
You leaned in slightly, eyes scanning the slices. âAgreed. Weâll keep an eye on that left side, but he should stabilize once the fluids catch up.â
John let out a low hum of agreement before tossing the unopened protein bar on the desk. âYou know,â he said casually, âhe was still standing there when I passed 12. Jack.â
You didnât look at him. âAnd?â
âAnd,â Shen drawled, âfor a guy who allegedly has nothing to say to you, he sure loiters a lot. Stares like he's waiting for a sign from God or some shit.â
You sighed and picked up the patient chart from the desk, flipping it open. âHeâs probably just worried about the cases Iâm on.â
âUh-huh,â Shen said with the flat sarcasm of someone whoâd known you too long to buy it. âIâve worked here five years and have never seen that man âworried about a caseâ unless the patient was coding or throwing punches.â
Before you could formulate a retort, Ellis strolled up with two cups of coffee and her usual too-smooth grin.
âI swear, the tension in this hallway could cure my caffeine addiction,â she said, passing you one of the coffees and raising his eyebrows. âJack still hovering like a ghost of failed relationships past?â
You took the coffee, despite yourself. âIâm not discussing this with you.â
âGood, because Iâm not asking,â Ellis said cheerfully, leaning against the counter beside Shen. âJust observing. Manâs walking around like someone stole all 50 of his extra 11-bladesâ
âHeâs not my problem,â you muttered, trying to refocus on the chart in your hands.
âCouldâve fooled me,â Shen said under his breath.
Ellis sipped her coffee, watching you with that infuriating glint of amusement in her brown eyes. âLook, all Iâm saying isâif someone stared at me like that across the ER, Iâd either call security or ask for a second chance. No in-between.â
You rolled your eyes. âWell, luckily Iâm not you.â
âTragic,â Ellis said. âIf I were you, I wouldâve at least milked it for the dramatic post-breakup sex. The kind that ends in a storage closet and a sexual harassment seminar.â
âJesus,â Shen muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. âCan we not?â
You smirked in spite of yourself, sipping the coffee. âThank you, John! Someone has to have dignity in this conversation.â
Ellis held up both hands. âNo shame here. Just sayingâJackâs hovering. Youâre pretending not to care. Everyone in this department has bets on when it boils over.â
Your brows lifted. âBets?â
âOh yeah,â Ellis said, grinning like the devil. âCarmenâs got twenty bucks on you two making out in the ambulance bay before the weekâs over.â
Shen gave you a sideways glance. âIâve got my money on a shouting match in the stairwell.â
You stared at both of them, exasperated. âYou guys are unbelievable.â
âAnd youâre still in denial,â Ellis said with a shrug.
You opened your mouth to respondâsomething sharp, something definitiveâbut the sound of a trauma alert overhead cut in. âThis is not over!â
Shen stood up straighter immediately. âGuess weâre up.â
You shoved the chart into the bin and tossed back the rest of the coffee. âLetâs go.â
As the three of you moved down the hall toward the trauma bay, you couldnât help but glance over your shoulderâjust for a second.
Jack wasnât there.
But you felt the pull anyway.
Damn him.
And damn the two of them for noticing!
The trauma bay cleared once again. Another wave handled, another body stabilized, another set of orders scribbled into the chart before youâd even caught your breath. Shen had peeled off to update the surgical team, Ellis had disappeared somewhere with a fresh coffee, and you found yourself moving on autopilotâagain.
It wasnât until you were halfway back to Room 12 that the rest of the hospital seemed to catch up with youâfluorescents buzzing too loud, your shoulders stiff from tension you hadnât noticed until now.
Inside, the lights were dimmed slightly. Sophie was curled on her motherâs lap, cheeks flushed and damp with sweat, a cartoon playing quietly on her motherâs phone. Her mom looked up the moment you stepped in, her expression tight with worry and exhaustion.
âSorry for the wait,â you said gently, slipping into the room and checking the monitors first. âWe had a critical case come in. I appreciate you guys being patient.â
âNo problem,â the mother said immediately, voice hushed but strained. âI just⊠sheâs still so hot. And she keeps saying her tummy hurts.â
You gave a small nod, already reaching for a fresh pair of gloves. âI saw her labs just came back. Feverâs still running highâ102.6âbut her white count is elevated, which helps point us in the right direction.â
You knelt beside them, giving the girl another soft smile. âHey, sweetheart. Iâm your Doctor, do you remember me from earlier?â
She gave a sluggish nod, her fingers still clinging to the edge of her momâs sweater.
âYouâre being really brave,â you said, your voice low and reassuring. âCan I check your belly again? I promise Iâll be quick.â
Her mom smoothed her daughterâs hair back. âYouâre okay, baby. Just like before.â
The little girl gave a small nod, and you began your examâgentle, methodical. Her belly was tender in the lower right quadrant, and when you applied the slightest pressure, she winced and whimpered.
You exchanged a quiet look with her mom, who paled immediately.
âI think it might be appendicitis,â you said softly. âWeâll confirm with imaging, but her symptoms and labs are pointing in that direction.â
Her motherâs hand went to her mouth, tears immediately brimming. âIs she going to need surgery?â
âMost likely, yes,â you said, keeping your voice even and calm. âBut the good news is we caught it early, and this hospitalâs surgical team is excellent. Sheâs going to be okay. Iâll put in the order for an abdominal ultrasound now, and weâll get pain control started in the meantime.â
âOkay,â the mom whispered, nodding quickly and wiping her eyes.
You gave the little girl a small pat on the arm. âWeâre going to take good care of you, okay?â
As you stood and made your way to the computer, you heard the curtain rustle behind you.
John stuck his head in, you wonder if he knew he was hovering too. âHey. Imaging is backlogged, but I flagged your order. Theyâll prioritize her next.â
You gave a grateful nod. âThanks.â
He stepped in a little more, glancing at the chart on the screen. âShe gonna need surgery?â
âLooks that way.â
He exhaled, then murmured under his breath, âHell of a first night back.â
You smirked without humor. âYouâre telling me.â
John tilted his head slightly, voice dropping just enough. âYou doing okay, Kid?â
You glanced back at the mom holding her daughter, still whispering soft reassurances as the girl finally drifted into a medicated sleep.
Then you looked at Shen. âYeah.. Iâm uhâ Iâm fine.â
He clealry didnât believe you. You could see it in the way one of his dark brows lifted, and the way his mouth twitched like he wanted to say something else but decided against it.
You saved the orders and clicked out of the chart. âLet me know when they call for her scan.â
Shen gave a nod and turned to leave, but paused just before stepping out.
âOh, and Ellis says the betting pool just doubled.â
You blinked. âSeriously?â
Shen shrugged. âDonât shoot the messenger. But for the recordâI still think stairwell.â
Then he disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone again in the dim room with the gentle beep of the monitor and the steady breathing of a sleeping child.
You shook your head and looked down at your watch.
Still a handful of hours to go.
And Jack hadnât even cornered you yet.
Not that you were waiting for it.
Not that you were thinking about it.
Right?
#the pitt#the pitt max#the pitt hbo#the pitt x reader#the pitt x you#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#Jack Abbot x you#Jack Abbott#Jack Abbott x reader#Jack Abbott x you#Dr. Jack Abbot#Dr. Jack Abbot x reader#Dr. Jack Abbot x you#Dr. Jack Abbott#Dr. Jack Abbott x reader#Dr. Jack Abbott x you#Jack Abbot fanfic#Jack Abbot smut#á° - IAL!reader#â„ - Jack Abbot
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how it feels to know youre being annoying but not being able to stop
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Spreading the boy dad!Jack agenda with whenever Jack takes his son out he makes sure the little boy has a shirt or a sweater or a hoodie that has a hat attached to it so he can use it as a leash and keep his son at armâs reach cause his son is on a mission to give him a heart attack lmao
#NOW YOURE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE#Ultimate boydad!jack truther#he just is đ€·đ»ââïž i donât make the rules#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#â„ - Jack Abbot#â„ - Mary Talks
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Loved part 2 canât wait to find out what happened between them and Jack better not screw it up again lol
When I get home from work Iâm cranking out chapter two and it will be much much longer! Going forward theyâre gonna be talking, theyâre gonna be fighting, and theyâre gonna break your hearts so watch yâallâs backs đŒđđ»
#I actually love them your honor#IAL!reader is gonna crash out so bad itâs not even funny#well just have to wait and see what happens#the Pitt#the Pitt x reader#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#á° - IAL!reader#â„ - Jack Abbot#â„ - Mary Talks
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And you were left with the silence again.
Alone, just like when he left you the first time.
a punch to the face wouldâve been nicer then this oh my god itâs so painful but iâm so excited for more?
I like to kiss my bricks before I throw them at you guys đđđ» Iâm so excited for Jack and reader to talk more tho, BC everyone is so curious what happened between them đ but weâll just have to wait and see đ«Ł
#please send more asks tho ILL ANSWER THEM#theyâre on my brain 25/8 rn#the pitt#the pitt x reader#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#á° - IAL!reader#â„ - Jack Abbot#â„ - Mary Talks
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He's got eyes, but he can't see | In Another Light (1)



In Another Light masterlist - Jack Abbot x Ex!reader
warnings. age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 27), exes to lovers, slow-burnish, jack and reader are really bad at feelings, reader is hinted to have some forms of depression and anxiety, more to come as series continues
summary. Night shift had once been your solaceâa strange, electric kind of sanctuary where the world felt quieter, darker, and somehow more honest. Now, on your first official night back, everything and nothing feels the same. The hospital still hums with its familiar tensionâbeeping monitors, hurried footsteps, the low murmur of exhausted voicesâbut the comfort is gone, replaced by a dull ache that settles in your chest with every fluorescent flicker and passing gurney. You used to move through these halls like you were part of the machinery; tonight, you're a stranger in a place that once felt like home, and as the hours stretch ahead, thick with memory and unspoken resentment, you wonder if the night can ever truly be yours againâor if Jackâs shadow will always linger in its corners.
notes. AHHH it's here guys! Our official chapter one is here and ready for y'all to read! I'm pretty happy with this, so let me know what you guys think for the future of In Another Light!
wc. 2200+
It was 6:45 p.m. when you finally got the courage to step out of your car to leave the employee section of the PTMC parking garage. Sitting in your car, trying to stomach your six-shot iced oat milk vanilla latte, was easier than facing whatever the hell was going to happen tonight.
Jackâs truck was parked four cars to your left, and that already left a churning feeling in your stomach. He was here before you. You knew he would beâhe always was. Routine ran in his blood like caffeine ran in yours. Still, the sight of his gray F-150 made your chest tighten like a pulled muscle.
You walked past it without looking twice, but your body noticed anyway. The crunch of your white sneakers on the concrete. The way the overhead lights buzzed just a little too loudly.Â
Deep breaths in.Â
Out.Â
Then in again.
Mentally, you were already triaging yourself. Discomfort: chronic. Heart rate: elevated. Emotional reserves: low.Â
You werenât sure if the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety or dread or both, but you swallowed them down with some more of your latte and pushed open the glass door.
PTMCâs entrance was quieter at this hourâday shift winding down, night shift still dragging their feet. You scanned your badge at the side entrance, the little green light blinking you in with an almost welcome.
The elevator ride down to the first floor felt like purgatory. Too short to fully breathe, too long to avoid thinking. The lounges were dim, a few night shifters already tucked in their corners, half-dressed in layers, sipping burnt coffee from the provided mismatched mugs.
You tossed your bag into your usual locker, the motion automatic. Your hands moved without youâpulling on your issued quarter-zip over your black scrubs, clipping on your badge, repositioning your pen light.
Parker leaned back against the wall next to your locker, having put her own stuff away, âWow. Look whoâs back.â
You gave her a dry look. âMiss me that much?â
âLike a hole in the head,â she grinned. âBut youâre prettier.â
âFlatter me some more and I might actually stay.â
âDonât tempt me.â She popped a piece of gum into her mouth and glanced at her watch. âWeâre already one down. Tony called out too. So youâre jumping right in, and Abbotâs making Shen take triage.â
Of course he was.
You turned toward the clock on the wall. 6:59 p.m.
One more minute of quiet before it officially began.
You took a breath, steady and sharp, and told yourself: Youâve done this before. You can do it again. You do it every day.
Even if the ghosts of your past were waiting behind every curtain and trauma room door.
The board hadnât changed much since yesterday.
You approached the nurseâs station slowly, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets as if that could somehow brace you against the rest of the night.
Little comforts, right?
Robby stood behind one of the desks, one hand balancing a coffee cup, the other flipping through a chart like it would suddenly change information. He looked like he hadnât slept. Which probably meant he hadnât.
âYouâre early,â he said, not looking up.
âHard to be late when youâre actively dreading it,â you replied, leaning a hip against the counter.
That got a tired huff out of him. âStill on that oat milk battery acid?â
âStill drinking it. Which says more about me than Iâd like.â
He finally glanced up, brown eyes scanning you. There wasnât judgment thereâjust something like quiet concern wrapped in too much familiarity.
âI want you with Shen tonight. Bay two is your guys when we get hit. Ellis and Abbot are taking one if multiple roll in.â He tapped the Ipad. âWeâve got two holdovers from earlierâMVA and a dumbass who fell off a roof trying to do some TikTok thing.â
You raised a brow. âHumanityâs finest.â
âIâll walk you through them. Come on.â
You followed Michael around the desk and into the curtained bays. He talked through the cases, voice low and even. You nodded, asked a few important questions, scribbled notes on your pad like you werenât here sometime yesterday.Â
It shouldâve been fine. It almost felt fine.
Until you glanced upâout of habit reallyâand saw him.
Jack.
He stood down the hall by north-six, his posture all sharp lines and quiet command, chart in hand, talking to someone you didnât recognize. Gray quarter-zip pushed up to his elbows, scrub pants tucked into his usual work boots. Like nothing had changed.
Like a year ago hadnât happened.
The sound around you dulled, just for a second. Your breath caught in your throat, lodged somewhere between memory and muscle. He didnât see youânot yetâbut you couldnât tear your eyes away.Â
It was like seeing a ghost.Â
Only worse.Â
Ghosts didnât get to keep existing without you.Â
âYou good, kid?â Robbyâs voice pulled you back, grounding and aware of who you were staring at.
You blinked, tore your gaze away. âYeah. Yeah, just tired.â
His eyes narrowed just a bit. âYou sure?â
You nodded once. âIâll live.â
Robby didnât press you. He never did when it really counted.
âCome on,â he said. âLetâs check on TikTok guy before he tries parkour off the bed.â
You followed him, one foot in front of the other.
But your pulse still beat loud in your ears.
And down the hall, Jack was still there.
Still himself. Still okay without you.
Jack leaned against the counter with a pen between his fingers, chart open but untouched. He wasnât really reading itâhadnât been for the last three minutes, not since he saw you walk in.
Across the floor, you were already helping an older woman with her oxygen cannula, crouched just enough to meet her tired eyes. Ellis stood beside you, chart in hand, but it was clear you were leading the interaction. Calm. Steady. Kind in a way that never felt performative.
âSheâs good, all settled for the night.â Robby said, walking up beside his fellow attending.
Jack didnât look at him. âYeah.â
Robby took a sip of his coffee, eyes never leaving you. âGo easy on her tonight,â
That made Jack glance sideways, jaw tight. âYou planning to lecture me?â
âNope,â Robby said, popping the âpâ casually. âJust reminding you of who she is,â
Jack exhaled through his nose, short and humorless. âNot your business.â
âUnfortunately,â Robby said, tapping his badge against his chest, âeveryoneâs business becomes mine eventually.â
Jack said nothing.
Robby watched you laugh at something Parker muttered, hand briefly brushing the patientâs arm in reassurance before you stood to check the monitor beside the bed. You looked lighter on your feet nowâdifferent than a year agoâbut there was still something careful in the way you carried yourself. Like you were always bracing for an unknown impact.
âDonât know how ready she is for this,â Robby said, softer this time. âBut she didnât miss a beat.â
Jackâs mouth pressed into a thin line. âSheâs good at compartmentalizing.â
Robby turned to look at him fully. âNo. She just has no choice.â
They stood in silence for a moment, the kind that settles between men who know thereâs so much more to the conversation but choose, for now, to let it lie.
You were walking back toward the station now, tapping notes into the tablet cradled in your arm, focused and steady. The same soft ponytail. The same familiar way you chewed the inside of your cheek when you were thinking.
The same youâand yet entirely changed.
Robby nudged Jack with his elbow. âDonât be weird tonight, alright?â
Jack didnât answer.
Robby smirked. âIâm serious. Donât screw up my best third year again,â
Then he pushed off the counter, dropped his empty coffee cup into the trash, and started down the hall. âText me if the ER catches fire,â he called over his shoulder. âOtherwise, Iâm pretending Iâve earned a full nightâs sleep.â
Jack stayed where he was.
And when you passed him a moment laterâeyes straight ahead, posture composed, not even a flicker of acknowledgementâhe felt the space between you like an open gaping wound.
A quiet, barley-hidden one.
But it bled all the same.
The first few hours of your shift passed in a blur of motionânothing dramatic, just the usual chaos that brewed under fluorescent lights and the buzz of cardiac monitors.
John had been decent company as always. Never quiet, but sharp. Efficient and funny was his personal motto. You handled the procedural tasks while he managed some of the floor, the two of you slipping into a rhythm that felt vaguely comforting.
Just like riding a bike.
By the time 9 p.m. rolled around, the ER had cooled just enough to breathe.
You stood at the nursesâ station once again, flipping through an empty triage packet when Shen handed you a fresh set of vitals.
âRoom fourâs post-fall. Nothing majorâglucose crash and a bruised ego.â
You gave a tired smile. âCopy that.â
âWant me to take it?â
âNah, Iâll knock it out.â You glanced at the clock again. âMight refill my water first though.â
He just nodded and wandered off, already charting something else. You made your way to the break room, tugging on your badge as you continued on your short adventure. The soft click of the latch gave way to the familiar quietâa rare, sacred kind of silence in a place like this.
Inside the breakroom, the hum of the old refrigerator and the ticking wall clock were the only sounds.
You leaned against the counter for a second, letting your shoulders drop. The muscles in your neck ached from standing too stiffly. Your back protested in all the usual places. You grabbed your bottle, placing it under the watercooler tab for a few seconds, before taking a drink without looking up.
The door opened.
You didnât have to turn around to know who it was. Something in your body went stillârecognition without welcome. You focused on the water tumbler in your hand.
Jack stepped inside like heâd done it a thousand times, because he had, he worked here too for christ's sake. His steps paused briefly when he saw you, but he didnât speak. Just moved to the counter next to you and pulled open the top drawer where the extra coffee pods were always stashed.
You watched the bottle twist around in your fingers. âYouâre still drinking the hazelnut ones?â
His hand stilled on the drawer handle. âYeah.â
You didnât say anything else. Neither did he.
The silence between you was thick but not hostileâjust full. Like everything neither of you said since your last encounter had gathered into the empty air around you.
Jack moved slowly, methodicallyâcup under the Keurig, pod locked in, button pressed. The smell of cheap coffee started to rise.
âYou look tired,â he said finally, voice low and even.
You let out a quiet breath. âYou still open with that line?â
âOnly when itâs true.â
You glanced at him thenâjust for a second. His hair was a little shorter than you remembered. He hadnât grown back the stubble he used to keep, jaw freshly shaven like he was trying to keep everything clean and simple.
âYou gonna be okay tonight?â you asked.
He nodded. âYeah, youâre here,â you raised an eyebrow, âPlus John and Parker, even if weâre down a few people you three can hold down the fort.â
You hummed an affirmative. âRobby seem to think weâre the dream team.â
That earned the smallest twitch of a smirk. âHeâs getting delusional in his old age.â
You didnât dare tell him he was getting old too.
Jack took his cup and leaned back against the counter, a few feet from where you stood. The room felt smaller now, like the walls had pushed everything a step closer.
Neither of you looked directly at the other.
âYou doing okay?â he asked quietly, like it was an afterthought. Like he already knew the answer.
You took another drink of your water. âIâm here, arenât I?â
Jack didnât push.
He just stood there for a moment longer, sipping his coffee like it wasnât burning his tongue. And then, with a soft nod and no goodbye, he pushed off the counter and walked out.
The door clicked shut behind him.
And you were left with the silence again.
Alone, just like when he left you the first time.Â
#the pitt#the pitt max#the pitt hbo#the pitt x reader#the pitt x you#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#Jack Abbot x you#Jack Abbott#Jack Abbott x reader#Jack Abbott x you#Dr. Jack Abbot#Dr. Jack Abbot x reader#Dr. Jack Abbot x you#Dr. Jack Abbott#Dr. Jack Abbott x reader#Dr. Jack Abbott x you#Jack Abbot fanfic#Jack Abbot smut#á° - IAL!reader#â„ - Jack Abbot
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Chapter one : tonight â€ïž
Prologue | In Another Light



In Another Light masterlist - Jack Abbot x Ex!reader
warnings. age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 27), exes to lovers, slow-burnish, jack and reader are really bad at feelings, reader is depressed, overall not too bad, these will matter more as the series goes on.
summary. adjusting to the day shift hadnât been easyânot after nearly three years of working nights during your ED residency. but for the past year, youâd finally settled into a rhythm: four days on, three off, and staying home alone the rest of the time. it wasnât glamorous, but it was stable. predictable. jack shattered that fragile peace you hadâhe had ruined you more than youâd like to admit. so when robby calls, asking if you could cover night shift again for a few weeks, it felt like everything you had built since Jack left unraveled in a matter of seconds.
notes. how are we feelings about this guys? we're starting out strong with some new formatting, so let me know how you like it! i'm genuinely so excited for you guys to read this đđ«¶đŒ this series is my little brain baby.
wc. 1000+
You were no stranger to the darkness. It had once surrounded you, enveloped you in a way no man ever could. Now it crept up the corner of your bedroomâstalking you, waiting to steal the little bit of comfort you had.
Day shift was supposed to be a fresh start.
A year had passed since Jack told you he couldnâtâor didnâtâlove you anymore. A year since your world cracked open and swallowed everything that felt safe. Since then, youâd been living in the shell of yourself, caught in some endless purgatory where time moved but nothing truly changed.
Maybe he was right. Maybe you were too young, too idealistic, too willing to believe love could fix what trauma broke. Maybe you mistook his silence for depth, his distance for mystery. Maybe you loved the idea of him more than the man he actually was, even when you tried your best to love every piece of him.
You gave everythingâyour patience, your softness, the parts of you no one else had touched. And he left you with nothing but questions that still echoed when the apartment went quiet.
The morning sun now poured through the blinds, casting stripes of gold across your tangled sheets and tired body. It was a new day in Pittsburgh, sureâbut you still woke up haunted. Haunted by what you couldâve been if only you had been... less.
Less emotional. Less hopeful. Less you.
But that was the thing. You couldnât cut pieces of yourself away to fit someone elseâs mold, and you certainly wouldnât let a man decide your future.
Not anymore.
So today, youâd shower. Youâd go to work. Youâd try.Â
And maybe that would be enoughâfor now.
The water shut off with a hollow clunk, leaving only the faint drip-drip-drip of the showerhead and the quiet hum of the city beyond the window. You stood there for a moment, still, watching steam curl against the glass like ghosts with nowhere else to go.
You wrapped yourself in a towel, not really feeling the softness. Everything felt a little muted lately. The air. The light. Even your own skin.
The floor creaked under your weight as you padded back to the bedroom, steam following you like a shroud. Your clothes were piled neatly at the edge of the bedâscrubs folded from the night before, socks tucked into shoes, everything ready. Like muscle memory. Like obligation.
You dressed in silence. No music. No news. No sound beyond the shuffle of fabric and the occasional hum of traffic from the street below. You caught your reflection in the mirror and looked just long enough to recognize yourself, then turned away.
Hair pulled back. Badge clipped. Phone in your pocket.
The apartment was still dark, even though it was morning. You hadnât opened the blinds in weeks. The plants by the windowsill were starting to lean, thirsty for a little attention, but you didnât have it in you.
Coffee wasnât worth the effort today. Youâd grab something on the way.
Your keys were where you always left them, hanging off the chipped hook by the door. One last glance aroundânot because youâd forgotten anything, but because it felt like you should.
Then the door clicked shut behind you.
Another day. Just like the last.
And the one before that.
The minute you locked the door, your phone rang. It wasnât unusual, but you didnât talk to a lot of people nowadays.
Keys still in your hand, you pulled your phone from your pocket, thumb already halfway to the green button when you saw the name.
 Robby.
A sigh slipped out before you could stop it, soft and tired. You stared at it for a second, jaw tightening.
âMorning,â you muttered, voice flat.
âHey, kid,â came Robbyâs too-cheerful voice for this time of morning, clearly laced with guilt and caffeine. âSorry to do this so last minute, but I need you back on night shift for a few days at minimun.â
You stopped walking.
âYouâre kidding me, days?â you asked.
âI wish I was, it might be longer. Martinezâs kid came down with somethingâheâs out for at least the weekend. I need someone solid, and I canât send Collins or LangdonâŠâ
You leaned against the brick wall of the stairwell, closing your eyes. âSo you thought, âHm, who do I know that has just started getting her life together again? Oh, me! Perfect.ââ
âI thought, âWhoâs my favorite human being that I know wonât let me drown?ââ he replied.
You snorted. âFlatteryâs cheap, Michael.â
âNot flattery if itâs true.â
A beat passed between you.
âYou know how nights are, with meâ you said more quietly, tone low. âYou know why.â
He exhaled slowly on the other end. âI do.â
âAnd youâre still calling me?â
âI wouldnât if I had anyone else I trusted to hold the place down.â Another pause. âIâd owe you. Big.â
You looked down at your keys, still clenched in your fist. The street beyond the stairwell buzzed to life around you. You could already feel the lost sleep crawling back over your shoulders.
âYou always owe me big,â you muttered.
âThatâs because you keep saving my ass,â he said, like it was simple. âBut hey, youâll be working with Shen and Ellis tonight! Night shift dream team.â
âDream team my ass,â you said, but there was no heat behind it. âYou just miss having someone who keeps them in check when all the crazys come in after 3 a.m.â
âGuilty,â he said. âSo you in?â
You hesitated, but you already knew the answer.
âYeah, Iâm in.â
âAtta girl. Get some more sleep. Youâre gonna need it.â
You ended the call and just stood there for a second, staring down at the pavement.
It was supposed to be a new chapter. A clean slate. Instead, you were flipping back to the pages you'd barely survived the first time.
You thought as you turned around and headed back upstairs, fuck thisâŠ
#are you guys excited cuz I am!?!#this has been such a pleasure to start writing#and to everyone asking for a taglist I will make one!#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#á° - IAL!reader#â„ - Jack Abbot#â„ - Mary Talks
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I want to give Jack Abbot the tiniest curly haired baby who wear the biggest glasses đđđ» just like his mother, that child shall not be given the gift of 20/20 vision
#Megan trainors baby 2.0#Iâm too young but I need a baby#yâall need to see my vision bc I canât without my bifocals#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#â„ - Jack Abbot#â„ - Mary talks
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Prologue | In Another Light (0)



In Another Light masterlist - Jack Abbot x Ex!reader
warnings. age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 27), exes to lovers, slow-burnish, jack and reader are really bad at feelings, reader is depressed, overall not too bad, these will matter more as the series goes on.
summary. adjusting to the day shift hadnât been easyânot after nearly three years of working nights during your ED residency. but for the past year, youâd finally settled into a rhythm: four days on, three off, and staying home alone the rest of the time. it wasnât glamorous, but it was stable. predictable. jack shattered that fragile peace you hadâhe had ruined you more than youâd like to admit. so when robby calls, asking if you could cover night shift again for a few weeks, it felt like everything you had built since Jack left unraveled in a matter of seconds.
notes. how are we feelings about this guys? we're starting out strong with some new formatting, so let me know how you like it! i'm genuinely so excited for you guys to read this đđ«¶đŒ this series is my little brain baby.
wc. 1000+
You were no stranger to the darkness. It had once surrounded you, enveloped you in a way no man ever could. Now it crept up the corner of your bedroomâstalking you, waiting to steal the little bit of comfort you had.
Day shift was supposed to be a fresh start.
A year had passed since Jack told you he couldnâtâor didnâtâlove you anymore. A year since your world cracked open and swallowed everything that felt safe. Since then, youâd been living in the shell of yourself, caught in some endless purgatory where time moved but nothing truly changed.
Maybe he was right. Maybe you were too young, too idealistic, too willing to believe love could fix what trauma broke. Maybe you mistook his silence for depth, his distance for mystery. Maybe you loved the idea of him more than the man he actually was, even when you tried your best to love every piece of him.
You gave everythingâyour patience, your softness, the parts of you no one else had touched. And he left you with nothing but questions that still echoed when the apartment went quiet.
The morning sun now poured through the blinds, casting stripes of gold across your tangled sheets and tired body. It was a new day in Pittsburgh, sureâbut you still woke up haunted. Haunted by what you couldâve been if only you had been... less.
Less emotional. Less hopeful. Less you.
But that was the thing. You couldnât cut pieces of yourself away to fit someone elseâs mold, and you certainly wouldnât let a man decide your future.
Not anymore.
So today, youâd shower. Youâd go to work. Youâd try.Â
And maybe that would be enoughâfor now.
The water shut off with a hollow clunk, leaving only the faint drip-drip-drip of the showerhead and the quiet hum of the city beyond the window. You stood there for a moment, still, watching steam curl against the glass like ghosts with nowhere else to go.
You wrapped yourself in a towel, not really feeling the softness. Everything felt a little muted lately. The air. The light. Even your own skin.
The floor creaked under your weight as you padded back to the bedroom, steam following you like a shroud. Your clothes were piled neatly at the edge of the bedâscrubs folded from the night before, socks tucked into shoes, everything ready. Like muscle memory. Like obligation.
You dressed in silence. No music. No news. No sound beyond the shuffle of fabric and the occasional hum of traffic from the street below. You caught your reflection in the mirror and looked just long enough to recognize yourself, then turned away.
Hair pulled back. Badge clipped. Phone in your pocket.
The apartment was still dark, even though it was morning. You hadnât opened the blinds in weeks. The plants by the windowsill were starting to lean, thirsty for a little attention, but you didnât have it in you.
Coffee wasnât worth the effort today. Youâd grab something on the way.
Your keys were where you always left them, hanging off the chipped hook by the door. One last glance aroundânot because youâd forgotten anything, but because it felt like you should.
Then the door clicked shut behind you.
Another day. Just like the last.
And the one before that.
The minute you locked the door, your phone rang. It wasnât unusual, but you didnât talk to a lot of people nowadays.
Keys still in your hand, you pulled your phone from your pocket, thumb already halfway to the green button when you saw the name.
 Robby.
A sigh slipped out before you could stop it, soft and tired. You stared at it for a second, jaw tightening.
âMorning,â you muttered, voice flat.
âHey, kid,â came Robbyâs too-cheerful voice for this time of morning, clearly laced with guilt and caffeine. âSorry to do this so last minute, but I need you back on night shift for a few days at minimun.â
You stopped walking.
âYouâre kidding me, days?â you asked.
âI wish I was, it might be longer. Martinezâs kid came down with somethingâheâs out for at least the weekend. I need someone solid, and I canât send Collins or LangdonâŠâ
You leaned against the brick wall of the stairwell, closing your eyes. âSo you thought, âHm, who do I know that has just started getting her life together again? Oh, me! Perfect.ââ
âI thought, âWhoâs my favorite human being that I know wonât let me drown?ââ he replied.
You snorted. âFlatteryâs cheap, Michael.â
âNot flattery if itâs true.â
A beat passed between you.
âYou know how nights are, with meâ you said more quietly, tone low. âYou know why.â
He exhaled slowly on the other end. âI do.â
âAnd youâre still calling me?â
âI wouldnât if I had anyone else I trusted to hold the place down.â Another pause. âIâd owe you. Big.â
You looked down at your keys, still clenched in your fist. The street beyond the stairwell buzzed to life around you. You could already feel the lost sleep crawling back over your shoulders.
âYou always owe me big,â you muttered.
âThatâs because you keep saving my ass,â he said, like it was simple. âBut hey, youâll be working with Shen and Ellis tonight! Night shift dream team.â
âDream team my ass,â you said, but there was no heat behind it. âYou just miss having someone who keeps them in check when all the crazys come in after 3 a.m.â
âGuilty,â he said. âSo you in?â
You hesitated, but you already knew the answer.
âYeah, Iâm in.â
âAtta girl. Get some more sleep. Youâre gonna need it.â
You ended the call and just stood there for a second, staring down at the pavement.
It was supposed to be a new chapter. A clean slate. Instead, you were flipping back to the pages you'd barely survived the first time.
You thought as you turned around and headed back upstairs, fuck thisâŠ
#the pitt#the pitt max#the pitt hbo#the pitt x reader#the pitt x you#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#Jack Abbot x you#Jack Abbott#Jack Abbott x reader#Jack Abbott x you#Dr. Jack Abbot#Dr. Jack Abbot x reader#Dr. Jack Abbot x you#Dr. Jack Abbott#Dr. Jack Abbott x reader#Dr. Jack Abbott x you#Jack Abbot fanfic#Jack Abbot smut#á° - IAL!reader#â„ - Jack Abbot
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In Another Light


âHow can you look at me and pretend Iâm someone you never met?âÂ
Itâs been a year since you transferred to day shiftâsince he gave you no choice. Slowly, painfully, things began to feel normal again. You found a new apartment. You learned how to fall asleep without his arms around you. You stopped flinching at the sound of his name. But in a blink, the walls you spent months building start to crack. One call, one schedule change, and just like thatâyouâre pulled back into the night shift. Back into his orbit.
Independent story, later chapters will eventually follow episodes 1 and then 11 through 15 of The Pitt.
Content warnings will be listed on individual chapters.
Jack Abbot x Ex!reader
à©â©â§ - Prologue
à©â©â§ - He's got eyes, but he can't see
à©â©â§ - What we donât say
à©â©â§ - My name, my undoingÂ
à©â©â§ - Heavenly
à©â©â§ - CeilingsÂ
à©â©â§ - Sometimes we wanderÂ
à©â©â§ - It wouldâve been you
More chapters to be determined
#the pitt#the pitt max#the pitt hbo#the pitt x reader#the pitt x you#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#Jack Abbot x you#Jack Abbott#Jack Abbott x reader#Jack Abbott x you#Dr. Jack Abbot#Dr. Jack Abbot x reader#Dr. Jack Abbot x you#Dr. Jack Abbott#Dr. Jack Abbott x reader#Dr. Jack Abbott x you#Jack Abbot fanfic#Jack Abbot smut#á° - IAL!reader#â„ - Jack Abbot
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Heâs such a pretty crier đ„č
#he looks like he needs me đ©đđ»#I could treat him so right#animal kingdom#pope cody#â„ - Pope Cody#â„ - Mary Talks
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Sorry Iâve been away for a few days, Iâve been lurking and working the first couple chapters of the Jack fic for yâall đđ»đ
Iâm literally making myself sad over nothing tonight, so weâll see if I can pump out a few paragraphs while crying. Like genuinely, Iâm doing this to myself guys and itâs BAD!
First chapter and the masterlist should be up tomorrow night!
Love yâall tho đ„°đ„ș
#doesnât help the series is sad asf#welp đ€·đ»ââïž#Iâve committed to this plot line tho#idk how to end it#so one of yall should get up in my dms and we should chat#Jack Abbot#Jack Abbot x reader#â„ - Jack Abbot#â„ - Mary Talks
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