Chapter Text
It felt like the blood was rushing to her head and she could feel the roar of it, violent and deafening, in her ears. It felt like the words he’d just said were echoing, bouncing inside her head. Friends. That’s what he had said.
Well, fuck that.
Samira Mohan was known to be a bit of a workaholic. She liked her job, she was good at it and if she was sometimes obsessive about her progress and her research, well, who could blame her? But she had known for a while that work could not be all there was to her. The Pittfest shooting had thrown that into sharp relief, and in the months since she had made strides. Dinner with Cassie and Mel, coffee with Parker, even the occasional exercise class and two (TWO!) crafty evenings so far. Not really balanced yet, but closer to it. The one thing that remained elusive was her love life. But that wasn’t for a lack of interest or effort. She had briefly joined the apps, ditched those immediately when two things became abundantly clear: a) men in those apps were the bottom of the barrel, and b) Dr. Jack Abbot was slowly becoming the one person she wanted to experience the romantic side of life with. She was almost certain he felt the same way. At least all of the data she had gathered thus far seemed to point in that direction.
It had started while they were sitting on the park bench after the MCI. Though they’d worked together before and clearly shared an affinity for obscure case studies and journal articles, their relationship before September 5, 2025 had been that of a mentor and a mentee. Friendly at best, sometimes flirty but with Jack that was the norm. Nothing untowards. But sitting on that bench after pulling off the pigtail catheter maneuver had allowed them to start deepening what was already there.
Samira came to rely on Jack for advice and for comfort more often than not, and Jack started to open up and share his life with her in a way he hadn’t since his wife. He’d even told her so, mentioning how his therapist was proud of him for cultivating this relationship with her. They spent so much time together, staying at each other’s houses (more often at Jack’s cause it was better) after hard shifts, cooking for each other, he’d even confessed to starting some Tamil lessons in DuoLingo so he could understand when she spoke it. And of course, that synchronicity at work not only remained but became even better, like they were mindmelded and could anticipate the other’s actions. It was creepy according to Shen. Samira didn’t care, she loved that she had that connection with Jack.
And then the 4th of July happened. That entire mess and the realization that what she wanted more than anything was to remain in Pittsburgh and build a life there, preferably with Jack, had put her in a tailspin. She had needed a letter of recommendation and had asked Dana for Jack, but the truth was that she had never planned on asking him for that. She just needed him as a sounding board and to ask who he might suggest for the rec. When Jack found out about her panic attack he’d been furious at Robby but Robby had left for his sabbatical by then. So Jack did what Jack does best: he went into repair mode and found a better option for Samira, did not even blink at the idea that she could ask Al-Hashimi or Shen for a letter of recommendation and then sat with her as she cried some more at how she felt her life was falling apart.
Even so, after over two years of closeness, they’d yet to cross the boundaries of physical intimacy beyond a few hugs here and there. Samira thought they’d gotten close to kissing a few times but then he’d pull back and things just cooled for weeks at a time. She thought it was the entire power differential situation but once she started her research fellowship at Presby that was a moot point. So what was holding him back?
They were at a bar celebrating Shen’s birthday. It was the first time in a long while that she had seen a lot of her former PTMC colleagues and also the first time in a very long time that she would have the opportunity to dress up a little and show off for Jack. Maybe once he saw her wearing the dress she bought he’d finally do something about it.
But then he’d gone and said those damned words.
“This is nice isn’t it? To hang out with everyone outside of the hospital for once?”
“Yeah, we never really have the opportunity to do this.” She replied.
“You know, if you asked me last year who my best friend was I would have said Robby, and I know, I know, he’s still a work in progress and can be a very big asshole, and I still consider him a close friend. But now, I would say you’re my best friend, Mohan. Isn’t that something? I’m very glad we became friends.”
Her heart stopped beating for a second, and then she saw red. He seemed to have no clue what he’d just done and that only infuriated her more. Friends? Bullshit, they were not friends. Or at least not only friends. Even her friends and coworkers had mentioned things pertaining to their relationship.
Without thinking, she lifted the glass of wine in her hand and downed it in one go. Cassie, who was at another table with Donnie, raised an eyebrow at this. Samira chose to ignore her in favor of heading to the bar for another glass.
By the time Jack had made his way back to her she’d drunk two more glasses of a very nice chianti and was working on the fourth. The bar was also emptying by then, the birthday boy long gone and the few people left behind clearly on their way out.
“Hey, want me to take you home?” he asked, still oblivious to the spiral he’d put her in.
“No. I’m staying here.”
“What are you talking about, Mohan? It’s time to go.” A furrow appeared between his brows, confused at her response.
“I’m finishing this. And then maybe I’ll find someone who appreciates this goddamn dress.”
“What?”
“Leave, Jack. I can handle myself from here. Thanks for being such a good friend, but that is not what I need right now.”
Jack’s jaw dropped. What had happened while he mingled?
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough.”
“Enough to what? Put a horse to sleep?”
She just shrugged and took another sip.
“Samira, please put that wine glass down. Let me take you home.”
“You don’t even think I look pretty.” His head was spinning at her non sequitur. “You don’t think I look hot. Didn’t even compliment my hair AT ALL tonight. And then AND THEN you have the gall to say I’m your best friend? UGH. Just go.”
“What the fuck, Mohan. Of course you look pretty, why would..? When did…? What even…? I am very confused here. What is happening?”
“I am tired, Jack. We do this dance, we are always hanging out, everyone knows and you refuse to even consider it.” Her hands were shaking as she spilled everything in her mind, aided by the almost entire bottle of wine she’d had by herself.
“Consider what?”
But she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted, “And that is the worst part. Maybe that is enough for you but it is not for me. Not anymore. I don’t want you like a best friend, Jack.”
Now Jack was spiraling. He didn’t even know how to act or what to say. What was she saying? Was she implying…? He could see the bartender looking at them from behind the counter, clearly enjoying the theatrics but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“And look at me! I look so fucking hot. I got this beautiful dress to see if maybe MAYBE it enticed you to do something. Do you know what this means, Jack? It means I went shopping. I hate shopping. I only bought this dress so YOU could take it off, but it seems that is not in the cards. So leave me to my drink and go.”
She huffed at that, swayed a little on the stool where she was perched but resolutely returned to look intently at the napkin she’d shredded at some point during her rant. She knew she should be mortified by how she lost control and spilled her guts to the man she’s in love with, but she’s currently the right amount of drunk and pissed off that embarrassment has not entered the picture yet.
Meanwhile, Jack was left standing next to her, stunned.
He had been holding back, he knew this. He also realized how others perceived their relationship and he had never wanted to make her uncomfortable. Their age gap could be considered problematic, although 14 years between them at this point were not going to get him sent to jail. He had stopped himself when she was a resident at PTMC but that was not an issue any longer. In fact, he could not think of a single valid reason why he hadn’t made a move on her except for the paralyzing fear of missing the mark so completely on what their relationship had become that he lost her forever.
“I do. I do consider it. All the fucking time, Mohan. Are you nuts? Of course I want you.”
She looked at him, tears in her eyes and sniffled a bit. Drinking wine always made her emotional, he thought.
“You do?” She asked in the smallest voice he’d ever heard and his heart broke.
He took a step toward her, eliminating and remaining space between them, and cupped her face in his hands. As a single tear made its way down her cheek he used his thumb to wipe it away.
“Yes, Samira. So much. It is the only thing I think about, YOU are the only thing I think about. I am in love with you, sweetheart. And I was a coward, because I didn’t want to risk losing you if I confessed but of course you beat me to the punch.”
“Liquid courage,” She laughed a little and shrugged.
“Yeah. Liquid courage, indeed. So let me take you home. We can continue this conversation in the morning.”
She hopped off the stool where she sat and grabbed onto the hand he was offering her. He led her out of the bar and into his car, opening doors for her and making sure she got in without bumping her head, buckled her in and then finally drove to her apartment.
Samira was coming down from the intensity that was the bar. The embarrassment never came and instead a warm feeling was growing in her chest. Jack did love her. Jack did want her. This was good. At some point they’d arrived to her apartment building and he had parked his car in her extra spot, not on the main entrance steps as if just to drop her off. He was staying. He opened the door and led her to the elevators, where she fished out her key.
They’d made it into her apartment and after leading her to her bedroom with a whispered “We’ll talk in the morning” she went to bed.