shawnhatosysprincess - Tumblr blog

shawnhatosysprincess · 18 days ago

Text

Bruises Pt 2 | Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: When you find yourself in an abusive relationship, you never thought your attending Jack Abbot would become your protector and saving grace.

TW: domestic violence, addiction, alcohol, age gap relationship (reader is in late 20s & Jack is 49), fluff, thoughts of su!cide, mentions of not eating, vomiting, gun violence, violence against women, Jack beats ass, angst, eventual smut. Not beta read. Likely typos. Lmk if there is anything else!

Word Count: 4.5k

Prev | Next

Omg TYSM for all the love on Part 1. I love you all.

& thank you to @lavenderdaisychain for helping me brainstorm a bit !!

"Wait, what?" you asked, following Jack down the stairs, struggling to keep up. For a guy with a prosthetic foot, he sure was fast. You protested all the way down the elevator; as you gathered your things, on the walk to the parking garage, but you still found yourself in the front seat of his truck. Your mind said one thing, yet your body said another. It was like he was a magnet, and no matter hard you tried, you could not fight the gravitational pull.

"You like Pearl Jam?" he asked, playing with the radio as the cars engine warmed up.

"Uh, yeah, they're okay."

"Well then who do you like?"

"Oh I dont know, lots of stuff..."

"Such as?"

"Pearl Jam is fine, Jack." You slumped back into the seat, your heart beating out of your chest at the situation you found yourself in. You weren’t entirely sure you’d make it to his house without vomiting.

Jack turned the music up a little bit, trying to cut the tension between you two.

“I just want to scream hello” he sang to himself as “Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town” played quietly over the hum of the cars engine. You were a bit shocked, he actually had a nice voice. Smooth, soft and quiet. As the two of you drove, the lively crowded city streets of downtown Pittsburgh soon faded into the affluent suburbs of Upper St. Clair.

He pulled into the long driveway, and turned the engine off with a click. He watch as you studied his home, looking at the brick exterior and the perfectly landscaped lawn. You didn’t exactly know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t something as charming at this. It looked homey and welcoming. You were so preoccupied, you didn’t even notice Jack hop out and walk around to the passenger side. He opened the door and offered you a hand.

Each step closer to the front door you felt more and more nauseous. Before stepping inside the mud room you swallowed the impending vomiting rising in your stomach. He sat down on the bench sat by the front door and removed his prosthetic. He groaned a bit as he massaged his sore stump before grabbing his crutches and making his way to the kitchen.

“When’s the last time you iced your eye?” He asked, pulling out a frozen bag of peas. He flipped on the TV to watch the reruns of the Pirates game. It was strange to see Jack in his natural habitat, moving around his home with ease.

“Uh not since yesterday morning.” Your phone buzzed with a call from Charlie, and you tried to silence it before Jack could notice.

“That Charlie?” He asked, his face almost turning a shade of crimson as the anger bubbled in his chest.

“No uh- just a scam call.” He knew you were lying again as he handed you the peas. You couldn’t get anything past him. Jack nodded and disappeared down his hallway only to come back with some sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"I can run you a shower and you can change into this. Unfortunately, my nightgown days are long behind me, so I hope you dont mind settling for these." he showed you the bathroom and set them on the sink.

"Nightgown? Im 28, not 82." you chuckled. "These are fine... thank you, Jack."

He stood there in the door frame staring at you, those damn hazel eyes always staring at you, into you. It wasn't until you raised your brow at him that he snapped out of his daze and excused himself. As you waited for the water to heat up you took the time to water the dying plant on the windowsill. He could crack a chest, crike a man under gunfire, and do a REBOA with his eyes shut, but couldn't keep a plant alive?

Before you knew it, you were snooping in his medicine cabinet. It was just typical first aid supplies- gauze pads, Neosporin, Advil, but what caught your eye was the bottle of oxy. You assumed it was for his injury and the pain that still lingered. However, the dust that collected on the lid made it safe to assume its been mostly untouched. Nevertheless, it didnt stop you from popping the lid off and pouring a few into your hand. The temptation was there. Just take them. Swallow them. You'll fall asleep and hopefully never wake up. Painless. But Jack- he would be the one to break down the door and find your lifeless body. You physically tried to shake the image from your mind as you quickly put the bottle back where you found it.

Climbing into the hot shower, the water stung your fresh wounds. You had been afraid to look at your back, you just knew it was bad. You weren't exactly sure what he beat you with, a cord of some sort. Each lash feeling like hot coals on your back. The way your scrub top rubbed against the raw flesh made your breath shake and words falter. You could wash away the dirt and grime of the day, but you could not wash away the feeling of Charlie's hands on your body.

As you hopped out you wrapped the towel loosely around your chest, not wanting to further irritate your back any further. Shutting your eyes you braced yourself for the mirror. Opening, your breath caught in your throat as you choked back a sob. One lesion in particular was red, hot, and weeping; sure sign of an infection, and you needed antibiotics before cellulitis set in. You raided his medicine cabinet one more time, looking high and low for something so you didnt have to ask Jack to write you a fucking prescription. You found some amoxicillin which didnt you much good since:

A. It was expired.

B. You were allergic.

When you exited the bathroom wearing Jacks baggy sweats, you found him camped out in the living room, his arm draped over the back of the couch.

"Hey," he said softly "Feeling any better? Figured you could take the bedroom and go get some sleep."

"I'm not letting you sleep on the couch. That cant be comfortable."

"I spent 3 tours sleeping in the middle of the desert. I think I'll manage." he furrowed his brow and sat up, flipping off the TV. "What's wrong?"

How the fuck did he know you so well? Was your poker face really that bad? Or could he just read your mind.

"Can you write me a script for antibiotics?"

"For what?"

"Just a little something on my back. Might be infected."

"Let me take a look" he said, patting the couch next to him, motioning you to sit down.

"It's in a really awkward spot, I'm just not sure I'm comfortable..."

Jacks face fell, his jaw clenching even tighter.

"How bad is it?" he asked, almost demanding an answer from you. You bit your lip, looking up at the ceiling to stop the tears that were rising in your eyes. He grabbed your hand, pulling you down next to him on the couch, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Umm," your voice began to shake, "It's not great. But I'm sure its not as bad as it looks. I mean- Charlie always says I'm a bit dramatic when it comes to my own health. Probably all the stuff we see at work, ya know?"

Jack cupped the side of your neck, his thumb moving back and forth across your cheek. The feeling nearly took your breath away, and you werent entirely sure you didnt let out a small gasp at his touch.

"If you want me to write a script, I need to see what I am treating. Can I please look at what is bothering you?" Jack was practically pleading. If he had not been studying your face, he'd have missed your subtle nod.

He began to talk you through it, his hands finding the bottom of your shirt- well, his shirt, gently pulling it away from your skin. He began to raise the shirt higher and higher as he exposed your back, covered in zig-zagged cuts that almost resembled a Pollock painting. When he reached the particular spot on your back- the spot you were worried about- his hands froze. He clenched his jaw so tightly that he thought his teeth would shatter.

“It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as it looks…” you try and break the tension.

“This looks like the start of cellulitis. I think I have some amoxicillin in the medicine cabinet. I’ll be right back…” he stood up but you stopped him before he could get too far.

“I’m allergic… plus it’s expired. I already looked…” his frowned slightly at your admission. “I was hoping I’d find something so I wouldn’t have to show you. I’m sorry.” Jack shook his head assuring you it was okay, that he understood.

“What did he hit you with?” He asked, pulling up your shirt once more to see the damage. His fingers brushing delicately against your skin. You shrugged your shoulders, because again, you didn’t know what he used. What he used to lash you with, over and over and over again, like you were some animal. You can still hear the sound of it making contact with your skin, your eyes shut, begging, pleading, praying for it to stop.

Jack knelt in front of you, steadying himself by placing his hand firmly on your knee.

“I’m gonna run back to the hospital and get you some IV antibiotics and some lidocaine injections for your back. You rest…in the bedroom not the couch. And I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Jack you’re exhausted, I can go pick something up if you call it in.” He shook his head, putting his prosthetic back on. He pointed down the hallway to his bedroom before once again speaking, “rest. I mean it. You need to rest.”

After he left you made your way down the hallway. A few photos were on the wall. Childhood photos, one with his family after what you can only assume was basic training, and some artwork Robby’s daughter made for him. It was a portrait of Jack in his Army uniform, holding an American flag. She made note to draw an arrow pointing to the shortened leg and write in all caps “YOUR FAKE LEG.” You audibly chuckled at not only the drawing, but the fact he decided to frame it and hang it up.

Walking into his room felt you were traveling into some unknown territory. Somewhere you know you shouldn’t be. It felt taboo. Forbidden. Your stomach flipped as you sat at the edge of the bed, trying to figure out which side was his. Eventually you crawled under the covers, the pillows smelled like him- minus the hospital. Warm, cozy, and inviting. Your eyelids began to grow heavy as his scent lulled you to sleep.

Hours later you woke up in a cold sweat, your heart racing. Something was attached to your arm, and it took a few moments and the flick of the bedside lamp to realize it was an IV.

He started the IV when you were asleep? How didn’t you wake up?

You checked the IV bags and found an empty bag of antibiotics and an empty bag of saline. Poor Jack stayed up to change the IV bags for you. You checked the clock and it was 6:15. There were 35 missed calls and over 100 texts from Charlie.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"Called the hospital. They said you left."

"When you get home you are in for it."

"Stop being a fucking bitch and answer your phone."

"Come on baby, I miss you. Come home please?"

"You fucking cunt."

Walking down the hallway you found him asleep on the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest. You smiled at how peaceful he looked, but still somehow seemed to be on guard. He sat up quickly causing you to jump backwards.

“Shit,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Likewise…you gave me IV fluids?”

“Your lips were chapped, you’re dehydrated.”

“You’re a good stick, I didn’t even wake up.”

“Either that or you sleep like a brick.”

"Take the compliment, Jack."

Your phone buzzed again, another call from Charlie, and then a pound on the door. Did you ever turn off your location? Fuck. Jack stood quickly, ushering you back into the bedroom.

"Lock the door." he demanded before opening his gun safe, and pulling out his handgun. Your eyes widened as you crouched down beside his bed, away from the view of the door and windows. You tried to slow your breathing, but it felt as if all air has escaped your lungs. Your legs were shaking, your hands were tingling, and with each gasp of breath, your vision got more and more blurry. You saw stars. When Jack knocked on the door, you barely heard it.

"It was a pizza delivery man, wrong house, for the Hamiltons next door. You can open up." when you didnt answer, he knocked again but this time a little harder. "You okay?" He tried the handle once more before pressing his ear against the door. He heard your quiet sobs, and gasps as you struggled to catch your breath.

Your head began to fall forward as the darkness crept in. There were two loud bangs and suddenly you felt hands on you, scooping you up and laying you on the bed. You couldn't see, your eyes still glazed over with darkness.

"NO! NO! NO!" You began to scream, kick, hit, and scratch.

"No, no, its Jack. Take a deep breath for me. Slow your breathing for me, baby." he tried his best to restrain your trashing body. His words were fuzzy as the adrenaline and cortisol coursed through every inch of your body. A cold compress on your forehead made your entire body jolt. As Jack gently wiped away the perspiration it began to slowly bring to back down to earth.

"J-j-j-" your teeth chattered and eyes fluttered as he slowly shushed you.

"You're okay, I got you. You gotta slow your breathing for me." he placed his hand firmly on your stomach, his other still gently wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead and chest with the cold rag. "You gotta breathe with your diaphragm. Feel my hand? Make my hand go up and down, okay?"

He tried to ground you as you let out a slow, long, shaky breath. His hand rising and falling on your stomach.

"That's it, good girl." he whispered. "It's almost over."

You dont know how long it took you to come out of your panic attack, but suddenly you felt like you got hit by a bus. Jack standing over you as your body dripped with sweat, teeth still chattering.

"I'm- I'm s-" you tried to apologize as the room spun. Your eyes shut as Jack began to rub his hand across your hair.

"Shhh, shhh...its okay. Catch your breath." he whispered as he wiped away a tear that had fallen down your cheek. You let out a soft moan at his soft touch, causing his stomach to do a flip.

He came back with a glass of water and his backpack, pulling out a prescription bottle from the front pocket.

"I'm gonna give you something to relax. I take this when I...it'll help." Jack cleared his throat and pulled out a Klonopin. Helping you sit up, he held the glass to your lips.

He took out his pulse ox and put it on your finger, showing you that your oxygen saturation was 99%, assuring you that you were getting enough oxygen as you waited for your breathing to normalize. He took your blood pressure and checked your heart rate.

"BP is a bit low, 90/60. Your heart is compensating for that so your a little tachy at 125. But I got you, you're safe."

It took about 15 minutes for the Klonopin to lower your heart rate enough to feel like you could breathe again. You were exhausted, sore, and a sweaty mess. The door was broken off the hinges, splinters of wood strewn about the floor. When the reality of what happened began to sink in, you were mortified. He broke down the door. You head fell forward and he began to massage your shoulders that were still incredibly tense.

"I'm so sorry, Jack." the words came out muffled as your head was buried in your hands.

"Dont apologize..."

"But your door! I'll pay for a new one. I promise."

"Screw the door. I'm just glad you're okay. You scared me for a second."

Scared? Jack Abbot didnt get scared. This was the man who has been elbow deep in someone’s chest cavity performing internal chest compressions. The many who has done a thoracotomy under gunfire. The man who has quite literally lost his leg to an IED.

“I just thought that…”

“That it was him… I know. Look at me.” Jack took your face in his hands. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, understand? He’s not gonna hurt you anymore.”

As the medicine began to kick in, your body started to grow heavy against the pillow, eyelids fluttering.

“Lay with me until I fall asleep?” You asked in a sleepy delirium. Jack hesitated but crawled into bed next to you. He tested the waters to see how close he could get, inching closer and closer when you said, almost incoherently “I feel safe with you, Jack.” It was almost an invitation.

“I like keeping you safe.” He whispered into your neck, wrapping his arm around your midsection. He didn’t want to let you go, and as you drifted into a deep sleep, you melted deeper and deeper into him.

As morning broke, the suns rays shone through the cracks in his blackout curtains. He tightened his grasp around you as your stirred beneath him, his arm still tethering you to him. You felt puffs of air on the back of your neck, and you smiled to yourself at the sensation. The broken bedroom door snapped you back to reality; the reality of the night prior; the reality you were in Jacks arms and not your fiancés. You only remember bits pieces of the panic attack that consumed you, clouding your mind and judgement. Your body jolted which shook Jack awake.

“Hey, hey, hey, you okay?” He sat up quickly, his curly hair sticking in every which direction. God he looked absolutely perfect.

“We slept together?”

“I wouldn’t say it like that. You had a rough night and you asked me to lay with you. I must have fallen asleep.” This was unlike Jack. He didn’t sleep. Especially at night. He thrived in the darkness, sought comfort in it. Not to mention is circadian rhythm was totally fucked from working the night shift.

Jack got up and made some eggs, which you pushed around the plate with your fork.

"What you dont like my cooking?" he chuckled as he watched you frown at your plate.

"No, I dont have much of an appetite, probably from the antibiotics." In reality, you dont remember the last time you had a full meal. You had lost a considerable about of weight and Jack noticed, hell, everyone in the Pitt noticed. It wasn't something that was intentional, but you couldn't seem to stomach anything without a mouth watering gag. But you didnt want to seem rude, so you held your breath and took a bite. It wasn't until you swallowed that things turned sour. Your skin was soon cast with a green hue and you sprinted to the bathroom. Jack followed to find you with your head in the toilet, your stomach revolting against you from only one solitary bite. He held your hair back and you gagged and heaved, and then placed a cool rag on the back of your neck.

"I know I'm no Gordon Ramsay, but I didnt think my cooking was that bad." he joked as you wiped your mouth and slumped against the wall. Despite the circumstance, a chuckle managed to escape your lips.

Suddenly Jacks face fell and he quickly stood, using the bathroom sink to steady himself.

"Jack?" you called out to him, "Jack what wr-"

"Shhh" he whispered, signaling with his index finger to his lips.

"Shots fired, shots fired, Pittfest. Multiple victims."

His police scanner blared as police, fire, and EMS were dispatched to the scene.

"I gotta go. They'll all be going to The Pitt." he quickly threw on a scrub top that was probably still dirty from the night before.

"I'm going with you." you grabbed your things.

"No, you've got broken ribs, a broken face, and an infection. You're staying here."

"Jack." you repeated "I'm going with you. I'll triage, but I'm coming with you."

"Triage, thats it. Not traumas. Got it?" he grabbed his go-bag and the both of you sped out the door. The sirens blared as you inched closer to PTMC, the traffic and chaos already ensuing outside. Jack ran towards the ER like he was back in the army running towards gunfire. You set up your post in the ambulance bay with Shen and Ellis. People came by ambulance, police car, work vans, its was nothing you had ever seen before. Body after body, they just kept coming. Suddenly your heard a voice, and your blood ran cold.

"Hey!" it was Charlie, his face darkening as he saw you. "It's Jeff! He's been hit. You gotta save him." You leapt into the back of the pickup and felt for a pulse. When you didnt feel a thing, you screamed for a gurney and immediately started administering chest compressions. You could hear Jack's voice in the back of your mind with each thrust,

"Triage, thats it. Not traumas. Got it?"

You felt your own ribs cracking with each compression, the air nearly escaping from your lungs as you pushed through the pain. The cuts on your back that begun to close were now opening again. Jack was too busy with his hand in someones intestines that he didnt see you wheeled into Trauma 3, Charlie following. After 45 minutes, multiple rounds of epi, and 2 bags of O neg, you knew he had no chance. The bullet went straight through his heart, it was unsurvivable.

"Time of death.. 13:4-"

"Where the fuck have you been?" Charlie hissed.

"Charlie...I-I-"

"What the fuck are you doing? Why'd you stop? Go save him! Save Jeff!"

"I did all that I could, I'm so-"

"You fucking killed him!"

"Charlie, the injuries were too severe. There was nothing else I could do. The bullet hit his heart." he was taking slow steps towards you, until you finally hit the wall with a humpf. Before you knew it, his hands were around your throat. You tried to scream but nothing came out, no words, no screams, just silence. You frantically searched for the code blue button on the wall, kicking, pawing and scratching at him. He was trying to kill you, and he was succeeding. Your legs began to buckle beneath you as your airways were desperate for oxygen, your vision blurring as you saw stars. You clawed at his face, tried to pry his hands away from your neck, but thats when you felt the first crack. Your head slamming against the wall over and over before you were hit with an unknown force.

As you fell to the ground, gasping for air you heard Robby scream.

"STOP IT JACK!"

Dana rushed to your side as you started to become more coherent, the reality of what just happened sinking in.

"I'm fine, Dana. They need you out there." Your voice was hoarse, you could feel the warm blood soaking the back of your head. Your nose began to run.

But with each passing second you begin to deteriorate.

"No, you need me in here. I'm not going anywhere." she started to assess you, but the sound of Jacks fists hitting Charlies face were deafening, both of your heads were turned in his direction.

"YOU SON OF A" a punch landed across his face "FUCKING" and another "BITCH" and another. You held your breath as blood splattered across the cold tile floor.

"ENOUGH JACK, HE'S OUT! HE'S OUT! YOU'RE GONNA KILL HIM!" Robby tried being the voice of reason and finally got a firm grip on him, yanking him backwards. Not before Jack got in one last kick, his titanium prosthetic shattering Charlies jaw.

"You touch her again," Jacks spit, he panted as his chest heaved with each ragged breath, "You touch her again and I'll finish the fucking job." He looked down at his bloody hands, his knuckles already beginning to swell.

Robby knelt down to check for a pulse on Charlie, not entire sure that Jack didnt kill the man. He cant say he would have lost sleep over it if he did. As he pressed against his carotid, he felt the mans jaw shift, it had been completely eviscerate. His pulse was faint but it was there.

"J-j-" you tried to call out to him, your head laying in Dana's lap. You looked so small and helpless lying there on the floor. Your pupils were fixed and dilated and you kept wiping your nose.

What kept coming out of your nose? You asked yourself.

"She is leaking cerebrospinal fluid, Jack..." Dana looked up in worry. "She has a probable basal skull fracture. We need CT immediately."

"CT is backed up for hours." Robby muttered "They'll want t-"

"Like fuck it is." Jack hissed, and without hesitation, he scooped you up. No gurney, no wheelchair, just holding you in his arms.

Dana and Robby called out to him but he began to almost run to radiology, holding you tight against his chest. You felt his uneven gait become more and more uneven as he walked faster and faster.

The bruising on your face already began to show up under your eyes. You groaned as the artificial lights blinded your eyes. You tried to hold your head up but the weight was too heavy.

“Stay awake for me, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes, okay?”

“It hurts” you cried out. Everything hurt. Your eyes fluttered open.

“There she is. There’s my pretty girl” Jack smiled.

When he reached radiology, and he called for Maxine, everything went black.

Tag list //

@michasia24 @emma8895eb @nosebeers @runawaybaby3 @antisocialfiore @xxxkat3xxx @livingavilaloca @lavenderdaisychain

1K notes · View notes