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Chapter Text

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch was ready for his shift to be over before the clock hit 0900. He’d already dealt with two overdoses, a psychotic break and a seventy-eight-year-old woman whose femur was so mangled he shuddered at the memory. A sharp scream ricocheted off the linoleum in one of the trauma bays. Robby shot a glance to Dana Evans, the charge nurse standing behind the counter at the hub. She shook her head. Not his problem then.

The ambulance bay doors slid open with a hiss. The clatter of gurney wheels clanged as the medics came in hot and Robby did a quick visual assessment of the patient. Middle-aged male, meaty build, the left half of his chest a grotesque tapestry of swollen purple flesh under what remained of his uniform shirt. Occlusive dressing in the field, IV in the left antecubital, breathing tube in place.

“Coming through!” shouted the medic, voice steady as steel. Defibrillator leads swung heavy from your neck. You were new. He would have remembered seeing you before. Robby caught the name stitched above your pocket: Sparks.

You guided the gurney with confident precision while your partner continued to bag the patient. “Fifty-year-old male, crushed under collapsed warehouse shelving. Probable sternal fracture and left flail chest. Open pneumothorax sealed with occlusive dressing. Field GSC eleven, dropped to seven enroute. O2 sat eighty-five on bag. Ten ketamine in transit, RSI completed five minutes ago. V-tach, cardioverted once, no sustained rhythm changes. Hypotensive despite twenty micrograms per minute dopamine infusion. Last BP was seventy-two over forty-five.  Tourniquet applied to right leg—open fibula fracture, absent distal sensation.”

Your words unfurled in a mechanical staccato, precise and unhurried.  Robby was halfway impressed and all the way annoyed.

“You left a tourniquet on for an open fracture?” His tone was more accusation than question.

You didn’t flinch. “Bleeding was heavy and continuous. Impossible to achieve hemostasis with manual pressure due to the break. Tourniquet maintained perfusion pressure proximal to the injury.”

Robby ran his eyes over the blood-soaked calf. “When was the last limb check?”

You didn’t look at your watch. “About two minutes ago. Still flowing.”

Your unbothered demeanor had a sliver of irritation crawling under his skin as Robby’s best Resident, Frank Langdon, fell into step beside him. He directed the gurney into a room. “Okay,” Robby said, “on my count. One, two, three—slide.” The patient’s body thudded onto the trauma bed.

“Vitals,” he demanded as one of the nurses swapped out on the bag. He flicked his gaze to you as you slid the gurney out of the way. “We’ve got it from here.”

You paused in the corridor, your voice drifting back over your shoulder. “He’s gonna crash without a chest tube and I’d stake money on a cardiac tamponade.”

Robby’s head snapped up with a glare, his chest going tight. Who the fuck did you think you were?  “I said we’ve got it.” He turned back to the patient, adrenaline sharpening his focus.

Frank flew through the chest exam. “Crepitus, paradoxical movement, sub-q emphysema. Air crackles up to the clavicle.”

“Shit. Prep for a chest tube. Get me two bags of whole blood on the infuser.” Reaching beneath the purpled tissues, Robby made his incision and guided the tube into the pleural space. A sharp hiss of trapped air escaped, followed by a dark, frothy gush of blood. He exhaled at last.

Frank leaned close, voice low enough that only Robby could hear. “Who the hell was that medic?”

Robby shook his head. “No idea.” He hated not knowing. Part of him wanted to scold you for stepping on ED turf. The other part felt gratitude he wouldn’t admit. He’d witnessed too many paramedics with god complexes that thought they knew everything. Yet with every move, every stat, every wound, the evidence stacked up. You had been right.

“Pulse up to ninety, pressure holding in the eighties,” Princess called. “Sats up and rising.”

A sharp, clinical voice piped in from the doorway. The trauma surgeon had arrived, eyes bright with impatience. “Chaos already?”

“As always,” Robby replied without a glance in her direction. His gaze flicked to the blood pooling in the suction canister, then to the leg. “Get an ortho consult. Langdon, EKG?”

Frank glanced at the readout. “Sinus with PVCs.”

“Ultrasound,” he ordered, not caring who obeyed as long as somebody did.

Princess handed it over to Frank. The screen flickered, dark pools of black swallowing the heart. “Tamponade.”

Robby glanced at the clock. Less than six minutes since roll-in and they were doing a pericardiocentesis in Trauma 3. Just like you had said. He tilted his head and huffed out a laugh of disbelief.

The surgeon stepped up then, finally willing to do something other than stare and bitch about perceived ED failings. “Watch and learn,” she said to the students that were in the room. She lined up the needle using the ultrasound and advanced slow and smooth until dark blood flooded into the syringe. The patient’s vitals bumped up a notch on the monitor. “And that’s how it’s done.”

“Get him stable, then get him to imaging for the leg and chest.” He glanced at the surgeon. “He’s got a bleeder in the leg according to the paramedic and the chest wound, plus multiple breaks.”

She nodded. “Yeah, we’ll take him once he’s stable. Ortho can join.”

Finally able to step back and take a breath, Robby took a moment to watch the stats for his patient steadily improving. He’d read countless reports and listened to thousands of handoffs from a hundred ambulance crews, but never had any of them called everything so accurately.

Frank caught his eye from the other side of the table. “You think she guessed all this or…?”

Robby shook his head. “Nobody guesses this. She knew.”

He turned to look for you then, hoping you’d stuck around for one reason or another, but the hall beyond the trauma bay was empty. For just a second, he felt like he was missing something, a critical piece of himself he hadn’t realized he needed until today.

The surgeon started to fire out instructions to get the patient transferred up to the OR. Robby backed away and peeled off his gown and gloves, throwing them in the bin. He drifted over to the hub, still looking for a glimpse of the paramedic at the corners of his vision. He knew the ambulance was long gone but found himself hoping anyway.

He’d just stabilized a dying man and was more annoyed by the missing medic than by the bleeding patient. He didn’t like mysteries. He especially didn’t like being outplayed in his own ED. Next time, he’d have your full name before the gurney even stopped moving.

Robby leaned on the counter watching Dana frown at the computer before hammering something out on the keyboard. She paused to sip her coffee and looked at him over the top of her glasses. “What’s up?”

“You catch the paramedic on the last run? Trauma 3?” He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

She tapped her fingers on the desk. “No, I was busy. Why? Trouble?”

“Nothing like that,” he assured. “She’s new.”

Dana shrugged, unimpressed. “They’re all new until they’re not.”

He snorted.

Dana narrowed her eyes. “She screw up?”

“Far from it. She was…” Impressive, he wanted to say but bit it back. “Sharp,” he said instead.

Dana raised a brow. “That’s high praise coming from you.”

She wanted more details, but he ignored the unasked question. “I was just curious if you knew anything about her.” He picked up a tablet and scrolled through it in an effort to get her to drop the topic.

He should have known it wouldn’t work. “You’ve got a tell, you know. When something rattles you.”

He shook his head in denial. “Not rattled,” he corrected, but she’d already turned back to her work satisfied with having scored the point.

Robby rubbed his eyes with a sigh. Maybe he was reading to much into this. Or maybe you really were that good. He stared at the tablet not focusing on it at all.

In the end it didn’t matter if you were new, old or a sleep-deprived hallucination. You’d either fuck up and be gone in a week or he’d have to get used to seeing you every day. He wasn’t sure which possibility bothered him more.

He raked a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying the irritation he would have denied. The next time you came through the doors he’d be ready. For now, though, all he had was half a name and the feeling that a clock somewhere had started ticking.  

 ***

Jack Abbot had worked a thousand nightshifts in the Pitt but tonight there was a sense of anticipation that thrummed under his skin. The Pitt didn’t sleep, not even on a Thursday at 03:17.

A screech of gurney wheels heralded the next arrival. He met the crew at the ambulance bay doors and scanned the patient in a blink. Young female, skin purpled from neck to midline, right chest bulging and rising uneven. There was blood everywhere, but Jack’s eyes locked on the clear tubing snaking out of the woman’s ribs.

Jack’s heart hammered. He didn’t believe it at first. Field chest tube. Fucking cowboys.

“Let’s move!” Jack ordered as he gloved up. The patient was surrounded, ready to be transferred on his count. His gaze found you as they completed the shift to the bed. Your partner wheeled the gurney out of the way leaving you to give the assessment.

“Twenty-two-year-old female, single-car MVA, roll-over. GCS six on scene. Obvious right chest wall instability, Needle decompression at scene—didn’t hold, so I placed a sixteen French in the fifth intercostal. Tube secured with sutures and heavy tape.” You didn’t blink.

Jack’s jaw clenched.  “You did a thoracostomy in the field? Are you nuts?” He didn’t hide his skepticism or the bite in his tone.

You shrugged absently as if his chastisement didn’t matter at all. “Didn’t have a choice if you wanted her breathing when we got here. Collapsed lung, mediastinal shift, O2 in the fifties. She needs blood and a scan.”

Jack bit down hard on his first reply. He wanted to dress you down. Lecture you about protocol and liability. About the kind of risks you only took when there were no other options. But you’d read the situation right. The chest was draining, the bubbling red-black evidence pooling in the collection canister.

He didn’t look at you, turning instead to one of the green residents that had been unlucky enough to end up on the night shift. “Rogers, two units PRBCs on the infuser. I want a portable chest, now. And page surgery.”

His eyes ran over the patient doing another assessment. Broken ribs. Faint blue on the lips though that was fading. His attention shifted to examine the chest tube, confirming what he already suspected. It was not just well placed, it was textbook perfect. Secured with two neat sutures and tape and running clean to the bag. The kind of work he’d expect from a senior resident or an attending.

The trauma surgeon arrived, and Jack stepped back to let them take over this mess. “You stabilized her enough for us to move her. Let’s get her upstairs.”

“Someone else did the hard part,” Jack said, meaning it.

He turned to thank you, or at least acknowledge you, but you were gone. Not in the room, not in the hall. He shouldn’t have expected anything else. You didn’t seem to be the type to stand around.

Jack found himself leaning on the wall, stripping his gloves. He flexed his right leg, the one that ached when he stood too long and let his mind wander.

There were rules. Protocols the paramedics were to follow. The system only ran smooth if everyone stuck to their part. But every now and then, someone showed up and rewrote the script. It could be a disaster or an ode to the profession.

He thought of that chest tube again. Of the precise cut, the perfect angle. The difficulty of doing that in the field and keeping it secured during the ride to the ED. Part of him still thought he should have reprimanded you for taking the risk, but the rest of him felt relief that the patient just might survive her injuries.

Ivy, one of the night nurses, stepped out of the room.

“Hey,” he said catching her attention. “Who was that paramedic?”

She shrugged typing on the tablet in her hands. “No idea. Never seen her before.”

He didn’t bother looking for you. You were long gone and if you wanted to disappear, you’d earned it. But he filed your face away, a bright point in the haze of the night shift.

His mind turned to Robby. Last week he’d ranted about a new medic who’d outperformed any of their residents. At the time, Jack chalked it up to exaggeration. But this felt different. Could you be the same woman? You had to be.

Jack exhaled. Maybe next time he’d get more than a nod and a disappearing act. Or maybe not. Regardless, he was certain he hadn’t heard the last from you.

Chapter Text

It took another week and a half before Robby saw you again, which was odd when he thought about it. He should have seen you at least once if you were on any sort of regular rotation. He’d almost convinced himself you’d moved on already, found another gig, or worse, been fired for your reckless behavior. Neither he nor Jack had reported you, but others might. Doctors worried more about their ego than their patients’ lives. And yet here you were, slipping through the bay doors just after shift change on a Tuesday morning.

You moved more slowly this time, every motion measured and precise. The gurney at your side bore an OD patient that had responded to Narcan but still needed a full assessment. Robby watched from a short distance away, hands fisted in this hoodie pockets.

You walked through the handover like you’d done it a million times before. Your voice was crisp, precise as you ticked off details without a stumble, your eyes locked on the resident making notes. When you finished, you helped transfer the patient to a trauma bed before stepping back and letting your partner wheel the gurney out of the way.

Robby stayed rooted, his eyes following your path as you trailed behind. Only when the doors closed behind you did he finally step forward, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking on the freshly mopped floor. He drew in a breath and forced himself to follow. He needed to see you, to speak to you. He needed the name. The missing piece that had gnawed at him since the first run. He had to know if there was a chance.

You were halfway across the bay when he cleared his throat—once, twice—his hands still buried in his hoodie. When you turned toward him from the back of the rig, he said, “Hey.” His voice was softer than he’d intended but he had your attention regardless.

You waved off your partner, who trudged back to the driver’s seat, and stepped closer. Something in your stance, weight shifted to one hip, made his chest tighten. You gave him a quick once over and smiled. He swore his heart stuttered for a minute. Fuck. “Can I help you?”

“We haven’t had the chance to officially meet,” he blurted, stumbling. “Michael Robinavitch. Robby. Dr. Robby.” He hated the way he tripped over the words but it was already done. No taking them back now.  “I’m the head attending. Day shift, mainly.”

Your smile widened as you gave him a nod. “Katrina Sparks,” you said then cocked your head. “Kat’s fine, too.”

The name landed not the way he’d been expecting. Actually, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. But he’d been hoping…

He shook the thought away and tried to recover his footing in the conversation. “Nice to put a name to the face. You’re good,” he admitted before instantly regretting it. “I mean, you handled that chest trauma better than most.” He winced. That sounded trite. God, why wasn’t he any good at this?

You shrugged, your smile slipping into a smirk. “Thanks. All in a day’s work.” Your tone was light, dismissive but he saw a flicker of something he interpreted as pride.

And you should be proud because it wasn’t all in a day’s work at all. No, what you’d done had gone far beyond the capabilities of the typical medic that came through the doors.

Your radio chirped, loud and piercing. You answered with a clipped, “Copy, ten minutes out.” You gave him another grin. “See you later, Dr. Robby.”

He watched you jog around to the other side of the rig, swing inside and shut your door before the lights on the ambulance snapped to life. In seconds, you were gone. Katrina. Kat. Not the name on his ribs, just above Jack’s. The one he’d traced with his fingers more times than he could count. It shouldn’t have mattered. He barely knew you. But there was this stupid hollow, the same feeling of a missing piece he’d had the first time he’d seen you.

He stood outside until the rig was no longer in sight then he shook himself and went inside, embarrassed by how much it bothered him. He’d wanted a name and now that he had it, he wanted more.

***

Two days later and hours before sunrise, Jack stepped into the ambulance bay to take a break. He just needed coffee and some air. Just a minute away from the noise, from the endless alarms.

One ambulance sat alone, parked at a lazy angle under the harsh bay lights. As he got closer, he saw you sitting in the back with your legs hanging out, a battered thermos in hand. You cradled it like it was something precious and maybe it was. Sparks. Katrina, Robby had told him. Kat.

 His gaze moved from you to your partner inside who was leaning against the wall flirting with one of the nurses. Their laughter drifted to him as he shifted his attention back to you. You looked different out here. Smaller, maybe, or just unguarded. There were lines around your eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. They said you were older than you looked and tired as hell.

He gave you a moment to yourself then crossed the distance to you. Coffee in one hand, the other deep in his pockets. At this time of morning, his limp was slight but noticeable.

When he was close enough, he let his voice drop low. “Katrina, right?”

You jerked upright, eyes widening in surprise. For a moment you seemed to gather your thoughts, then tilted your head, a half-smile curling your lips. “Depends entirely upon who’s asking.”

 He grinned but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Abbot. Jack. Night shift attending.”

You took him in, head to toe, then back up a serious expression on your face. “You looked taller on the other side of the gurney,” you said before flashing him a sly grin.

His own became more genuine as he shrugged. “I get that a lot.”

“You attendings are making a habit of chasing me out here. Are you even supposed to leave the ED? Doesn’t the hospital collapse or something if you’re gone too long?”

He huffed a laugh. “Guess we’ll find out. I needed the air. The company’s an unforeseen bonus.”

You let the silence settle for a beat before asking, “Did you save the MVC?”

He rocked back on his heels with a nod. “That was your work. Most paramedics couldn’t have done it. Would have stuck themselves or the wrong rib, but not you.”

Your face went neutral for a second, then you looked away, running your palm along the crease in your pants. “It’s the job.”

He almost said, Not the way you do it. But he let the thought die. Instead, he asked, “How long you been running with EMS?”

You glanced at the door where your partner was still nowhere in sight. “Couple months. Longer than I planned,” you said after a moment. “Keeps me busy.”

He wanted to ask what you were running from but he’d learned there were questions you didn’t ask. Not if he wanted to keep talking to you, anyway.

He traced the edge of his coffee cup with his thumb. “What were you doing before?”

There was that little smirk again as you arched a brow. “Different place. Same chaos.”

He studied your profile and the weary tilt at the corners of your mouth. He wondered how long you’d been working tonight. “Robinavitch was impressed with you, too, even if he won’t admit it.”

You smiled at that before sipping at your coffee, the steam curling into the air between them.

Jack wanted to tell you something honest, something real. Maybe that he’d already memorized the way your hands moved, or that your name filled both his and Robby’s heads and more than one of their conversations. He cleared his throat. “Nice thermos.” That was safer.

You quirked a brow and turned it so he could see the multitude of dents and scrapes. “I swear it’s bullet proof. It’s survived at least a hundred trips down the stairs. Never failed me yet.”

He almost laughed. He liked the quick, unvarnished way you had of speaking. Jack realized he was staring and looked away, tracking the glow of the streetlights on the wet concrete.

“You ever get tired of trying to save the world?” he asked, soft. He wasn’t sure what made him say it.

Your expression softened but you didn’t answer right away. Finally, you said, “Don’t you?”

He looked at his feet. “Sometimes. But I keep coming back, so I guess I’m not done yet.”

Your radio sparked to life. “Unit Six, return rig to base. You’re late for relief.” You straightened and hopped to your feet. “Copy,” you said into the mic. You looked at Jack as if weighing whether to add something more.

He beat you to it. “Get some rest and stay safe out there.”

“Will do, Abbot Jack,” you said with that same crooked smile he’d noticed the first time. You swung into the cab in one fluid motion, your partner already climbing in on the other side. In a heartbeat, the engine roared, and the rig peeled away.  

Jack stood in the quiet that followed, the bay lights humming overhead the only witness to the hollow ache in his chest. How could he miss someone he barely knew? How could a name hollow him out? He understood what Robby had been telling him now.

He finished his coffee, drained the last bitter drop, then flicked the cup into the bin. Then he turned and headed back through the sliding doors, straight into the rising tide of incoming patients and alarms, carrying with him the whisper of a name he couldn’t let go.

Chapter Text

When one spends their days immersed in PTMC emergency department, one day tends to bleed into the next—sometimes literally. For Dana Evans, the only way to mark time was by the faces that surrounded her. So, it only made sense that she was the first to notice that the new paramedic was around more often. You appeared at least once per shift, more often if the world was on fire, which it usually was. Lena, the nightshift charge nurse, reported the same. You haunted her the ED during night shift, too. Nobody could decode your schedule. You came in at all hours, rarely with the same partner by your side.

The first real winter storm dropped in during the early morning hours. By 07:18, you had already run six calls. You rolled in with a guy barely breathing and blood pooling in his boots. By 07:25 you’d handed off to Robby followed by a quick “possible DKA. Breath smells like my nail polish remover.” He didn’t even argue with you, just gave a quick, grudging nod. A resident opened his mouth to challenge you, but the attending held up a hand to cut him off.  “Just run the test.” Dana watched from the hub and saw Robby’s eyes track you as you walked away, phone to your ear.

The next time you showed up was during shift change before Dana had a chance to head home. Jack peeled away from the debrief to meet the gurney. You handed him a printout.  “Dropped at a bar, forty-eight-year-old male, two rounds epi, O2 sats in the low eighties, twelve-lead showed no artifact.” He scanned it. “Probable hyperkalemia, if you ask me.” Jack didn’t say thank you. He just cocked an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth gave the faintest twitch upward. Dana stored it away like a breadcrumb.

The next day you were back with a pediatric case—a feverish ten-year-old gasping through a mask. This time you stayed long enough to make sure the patient was stable before disappearing. By the end of the week, the entire day shift had decided they wanted you on speed dial, even if only Dana had the nerve to say it out loud.

Robby had just come from another handoff to lean on the hub. He seemed to be lost in thought. Taking a guess as to the subject, Dana said, “You’re right, she’s sharp. Almost too sharp.”

Robby snorted but didn’t disagree. “You ever see her hesitate?”

“Nope,” Dana replied.

The hospital’s charting system was a graveyard of CYA protocols. Dana could spot your notes amongst any other medic that came through the door. Every detail was precise, every dosage and diagnosis eerily accurate, your last name and badge number scrawled underneath. Other paramedics’ notes might as well have been hastily scrawled on post-its. The other nurses took to calling you ‘the oracle’ but never to your face.

At first, when the others attempted to build a rapport with the surprisingly quiet woman, you would make yourself scarce with an excuse of a loaded stretcher, another call or just an evaporating act so smooth no one could remember when you left. That was unless Jack or Robby cornered you. You always seemed to have time for the two attendings, even if it was just a few seconds to pass a greeting, share a smirk and disappear again.

Dana was working one of her rare night shifts, covering for an extended absence when you came in with an OD in the early morning hours. For once, you weren’t in a hurry to leave and helped yourself to coffee from the breakroom. You leaned on the counter at the hub talking to a couple of nurses during a brief lull in the chaos. Jack drifted by after checking on a patient, saw you, and froze. Dana caught a flicker of something on his face then watched him approach slowly as if he expected you to vanish if he moved too fast.

“Still trying to save the world, I see,” he greeted, voice low.

You nodded. “So are you. Have you figured out yet if the building will collapse if you and Dr. Robby leave for too long?”

Jack grinned and the skin around his eyes crinkled. Dana caught it—an actual, genuine smile.

Another afternoon, Dana heard you quizzing a resident on submersion injury protocols while he took a quick break. Robby strolled by and couldn’t resist inserting himself into the conversation. “That data’s five years out of date.”

You shot back with, “The guidelines were revised last month, Dr. Robby. Check your inbox.”

“Oh, she’s sassy,” Robby said with a chuckle before grabbing a tablet and moving to another room. The resident you’d been talking to nearly choked on his sandwich.

And Dana just watched it all. Her suspicions were only supported when Lena would fill her in on the interactions between you and Abbot during the night shift. “He laughed. He actually laughed,” Lena had told her just this morning.

The only strange thing about you was how you kept a practiced physical distance from everyone. You always stood just outside of arm’s reach, leaned away if anyone crowded you, and never accepted a handshake. The few times someone had encroached, you’d find a way to step back, or put something in your hands so the contact never happened. But Dana had been in the ED long enough to know when someone was avoiding touch. She filed that fact away along with all the others.

The days blurred as they always did, but the pattern held. One night when a string of frat party overdoses had most of day shift working overtime, Dana watched as you and Robby leaned against the wall, trying to give yourselves a chance to breathe. You had stuck around to help longer than you probably should have, but they’d needed the assist so no one was going to complain. Robby rubbed his jaw with the back of his hand. “I hate this part,” he said, nodding toward the half-conscious puking patients.

“You hate everything,” you replied, a teasing lilt to your tone.

Robby made a show of rolling his eyes. “You ever think about taking a break from all this?”

You snorted. “I’m not built for downtime.”

“Yeah. Me either.”

You fell into a comfortable silence. Jack wandered over, fresh from a trauma, and leaned against the wall beside Robby as he sipped a bottle of water. Dana was packing up to head home, but she watched the three of you from the corner of her eye, memorizing the way you seemed to hover around one another, like magnets just shy of making contact. The three of you seemed content to just be in each other’s orbit, the men sneaking glances at you when they thought you wouldn’t notice and vice versa.

Eventually, you straightened and said, “See you next disaster.”

Jack watched until you faded from sight, then said, “You think she ever sleeps?”

Robby grunted. “If she does, it’s standing up.”

***

It had been one of those rare days where everything seemed to run just a little slower, a little more peaceful. Fewer patients seemed to be demanding their attention. It was days like this that every little thing stood out. Like the way you were hanging around the hub every time you came in and Robby kept finding excuses to be there, too.

Dana settled into her post at the nurses’ station. From there she could track every drama from the ambulance bay to the trauma rooms. She logged notes on her patients but most of her attention was on her attending and you.

At 17:30 you walked in with a hypertensive elderly woman, roaring curses and clearly not on death’s door. Robby met you in the corridor to do the initial handoff. As you gave your assessment, Dana watched Robby’s face. This wasn’t the mask he wore for patients but the private face he wore for colleagues. Dana had seen it soften before in rare moments, but never like this. Not for anyone but Jack. When he reached past you to check the cuff on the patient’s arm, you stepped clear, careful not to brush his arm. It was subtle, but Dana was paid to notice subtle. She logged it away, then kept watching.

An hour later, Jack clocked in a few minutes early. You had returned with another patient and were in the hallway entering some notes on a tablet. Jack didn’t say hello when he found you there, just slid up beside you to scan over the chart. Dana watched him point at a line of numbers and say something. You replied under your breath and both of you smirked at a private joke. When Jack leaned closer to check a figure, you angled the screen just so to make certain there was no chance for your hands to touch. You handed it back and slid away.

Time after time, you distanced yourself during handoffs. If there was no gurney between you, you’d cross your arms over your chest or bury your hands in your pockets. But you watched Jack and Robby as though you needed proof they were real, that they breathed and lived.

The men noticed you, too, even if they pretended otherwise. Dana caught Robby glancing at the hub anytime you were there, pretending to be annoyed by your presence but never looking away for long. Freezing in his charting when he heard you laugh with a nurse. When you left, Robby looked up and saw Dana watching. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, voice dry. “Just waiting.”

His gaze flicked from her to the spot down the hall where you had disappeared. “Well, keep waiting. She’s not ours.”

And that was just it, wasn’t it? Dana knew they were supposed to have another soulmate, the name ‘Angel’ scrawled along their skin. Obviously, you weren’t her. Your name didn’t match and no one had ever called you Angel, not even sarcastically.

So, what was this between you, then? Simple attraction or something else?

Dana decided she didn’t care as long as it didn’t fuck with her shift. But as she watched the three of you, she felt a tickle of curiosity that wouldn’t quite leave her alone.

***

It was the middle of another week and Dana was settling in to start her shift. Somehow, she was unsurprised to find you already at the hub, leaning against the counter, cup of coffee in hand. You looked like you’d been awake for a week straight.

“Rough night?” Dana asked.

You smiled in greeting then shrugged. “Could’ve been worse.”

Dana took a slow slip of her coffee and let her eyes drift to where Robby and Jack stood a short distance away getting ready for handoff. You followed Dana’s gaze. For half a second, your guard dropped. There was a softness to it before you clamped it down and turned away.

Dana let it hang then said, “You know, you’re here more than half the residents. You ever rest?”

You snorted. “Not if I can help it.”

The attendings’ conversation carried just enough to catch a word here and there as they argued about labs. You watched from the corner of your eye.

“You know Abbot well?” Dana asked.

There it was. The slight hitch in your shoulders. You didn’t turn, just shifted your focus to your cup.

“No more than Robby,” you answered, voice neutral.

“He’s a pain in the ass but he means well. Robby, too.”

You made a noise that could have meant anything. “They’re good at what they do.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Dana said, and was surprised to find she meant it.

That earned her a quick smile before you finished off the last of your coffee.

“You know,” Dana said, “we’re going out Friday after shift. Girl’s night. You should come.”

You blinked in surprise. “Who else is going?”

“Me, Perlah and Princess always go. The others rotate in or out. Collins is coming this week, I think. I’m not sure who else. Its casual. Cheap food followed by a few drinks while we bitch about our partners and the hospital admin.”

You didn’t answer right away, tapping a finger on the lid of your cup. Finally, you smiled. “Sure. Why not?”

Dana grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

“Alright, I’ve got to get the rig back and make someone else earn their living.” You tossed your cup in the bin catching the attention of the two attendings. Jack and Robby broke off their conversation and followed you with their eyes until you were out of sight. After, they gave each other a quick kiss before heading different directions.

Dana shook her head with a laugh. “Not theirs, my ass.”

Chapter Text

The girls’ night crowd was already two drinks in and nowhere near ready to quit. The neon sign over their table buzzed and flickered in rhythm with the bass from the speakers overhead. Seven women crowded around the sticky, ringed table along the wall. Their laughter echoed around them, drawing them more than one glance. The place was full and smoke wafted in from the patio anytime someone opened the door. The smell of cheap beer and bad decisions filled the air. It was perfect.

At one end of the table, two junior nurses traded hospital horror stories with a slim surgery fellow and Heather Collins who was nursing a margarita on the rocks. Every so often their voices dimmed below the din before rising again in laughter. At the other end sat Dana, Princess and you who looked like you’d rather be on the clock than drinking on a Friday night. But the truth was you’d been looking forward to this outing. Perlah had ducked out before the move from the diner.

You had just finished delivering the cliff notes of your backstory—the easy part anyway—explaining how you always seemed to know so much about the patients.

Princess tilted her head, straw aloft, eyes dancing with disbelief. “Nah. You’re making that up,” she said, stabbing her straw into the ice for emphasis. “There’s no way.”

You shrugged as your mouth curved into a half-smile. “Maybe I am. Who knows?”

Dana, who had been listening with her arms crossed and a faintly judgmental eyebrow, shook her head and let out a noise somewhere between a snort and a chuckle. “I believe every word of it. It explains a whole hell of a lot. Besides, you seem the type.”

The others at the far end, were deep in a story about a patient who’d bitten through their own lip. You were glad you’d missed most of that one. The surgery fellow was being rather graphic in the retelling. Every now and then, the two subgroups merged to share a common story or a punchline and then they’d drift back to their safe social orbits.

It was Dana who spotted the untouched glass in front of you first.  “What is that? Seltzer?” she asked, leaning in. “That’s criminal. Princess, order her something dangerous.”

“I’ll take a Braddock’s,” you said. “There’s nothing dangerous about it, but it’ll do.”

Princess rolled her eyes. “You are such an old man.”

Your eyes lit. “Oh, I’ll take a grumpy old man. Haven’t had one of those in ages.”

Dana snorted again, muttering, “I bet you would.”

Before anyone could ask what that meant, the waiter showed up. He wore a messy haircut and a too small t-shirt with a bad dick joke on it. “Ladies, what can I get you?”

Dana pointed at you. “She want’s a grumpy old man.” Another huff of a laugh. “The rest of us are fine at the moment.” She raised her mostly full glass in case he doubted it.

The waiter beamed at you. “I’m going to need to see some ID.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Now you’re just fishing for a tip.”

“Company policy,” he said and shrugged apologetically. “We’re not allowed to guess.”

You dug into your pocket, came up with a battered leather card case and slid out your driver’s license. You handed it to Dana who was closer to the waiter. “No laughing at the picture,” you warned but already regretted the words as the charge nurse turned the license to see the front of it.

Dana glanced at it and stopped as she took in the name: Angel Katrina Sparks. For a heartbeat she stared, her lips parted in surprise and she sucked in a startled breath.  The waiter leaned over to peek at the date before giving a nod and stepping back.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be right back with your drink.”

Dana placed the license face down on the table and looked straight at you. “Is that your real name?” she asked low enough that only you heard.

You hesitated. You could lie or play it off as a mistake, but the way Dana’s gaze pinned you, the way her knuckles whitened on her glass, made it pointless. You took a steadying breath.

“That’s what it says.” You watched Dana’s reaction, the way her mouth thinned into a line.

Her face went from shock to suspicion to something more analytical. She kept studying you like she was waiting for you to break. The rest of the table rattled on, one of the nurses launching into a tale about a patient with a broken femur who tried to escape the ER. But at that moment, none of it mattered.

Finally, Dana slid the license back across the table, her expression softening. She reached over and set her hand on top of yours, squeezing once, tight and deliberate. She held it a moment longer, then withdrew her hand and turned to Princess. The nurse frowned as she looked between the other two women.

“Why don’t you tell Sparks what happened with the guy in five yesterday? She’ll like that one,” Dana suggested.

Princess immediately launched into the story and the table’s attention shifted to her. Just like that, the conversation was back in the safe, gossipy groove. You flexed your hand under the table and found you’d been gripping your thigh hard enough to leave marks.

An hour later or so, Dana needed a smoke break. She slid her chair back, checked her phone and gestured at the glass door with her chin. “Anyone coming?” she asked.

You drained the last of your second grumpy old man and stood as well. “I could use some air.”

Outside, the bar’s noise and sticky heat fell away, replaced by the chill of the night. The Open sign flickered, turning everything on the sidewalk alternating shades of red and blue. You shoved your hands into your pockets and leaned against the rough brick wall beside the door, breathing deeply.

Dana shook her cigarette loose and flicked her lighter. The flame illuminated the worried furrow in her brow. She inhaled, held it, then exhaled in a soft plume away from you. “You want one?”

You shook your head. “Quit awhile back.”

“Smart,” Dana said, as though she respected the decision even if she had no intention of following suit. For a minute, neither spoke. You felt every breath of silence, every second where words should be and weren’t. You rocked on your heels and sucked in a breath.

Dana was the first to speak. “I didn’t mean—back there with the license. If you want me to keep it quiet—”

“I’m going to assume from your reaction that I’m right about who Jack and Robby are to me?” You cut in, nervousness making your voice tremble.

Dana’s mouth twisted, amusement barely covering her curiosity. “Either that or it’s a hell of a coincidence.” She dropped her cigarette and ground it into the cement with her heel.  She turned back to you, folding her arms but leaning in, curious.

Your shoulders slumped, your breath catching for a beat. You stared past Dana into the darkness. “My mom named me that. Angel,” you began, voice low and detached as though you were reciting patient notes. “She was obsessed with soulmates. She said if she made my name special, mine would be easier to find.” You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Then my names showed up, so common and generic they matched millions.”

Dana looked at you, really looked, eyes narrowed in calculation. “What happened?” she asked, voice gentle.

You exhaled slowly. “She raised me alone. Her soulmate died before I was born. She made it her mission to make me perfect for mine. To find them anyway she could. If I didn’t build my life around them, she said I’d never be complete.  For a long time, she had me convinced I had no value, no identity outside of my soulmates. That I was worthless if they didn’t claim me.”

Dana’s brows lifted. “Jesus. No wonder you go by Katrina.”

“Yeah.” You looked at the woman you were quickly coming to consider a friend. “Well, that and fucking Angel? Seriously?”

You both laughed, the tension easing off. Dana reached out and put a hand on your shoulder—firm, anchoring. “I get it. Katrina fits you better, anyway.” She hesitated, thoughtful. “Jack and Robby are drawn to you, but they don’t have a clue who you are to them.”

“Why would they?” you said with a shrug. “I don’t know how to tell them. What if I mess everything up?”

Dana’s grip tightened. “You’ll tell them when you’re ready. But if you need help, or if you want me to shut up about it, just say the word.”

You smiled, the first real one in a while. “Thanks.”

Dana cracked a grin. “Don’t mention it. But if you take too long, I reserve the right to throw you at them myself.”

Your laugh was louder than you’d intended, echoing down the empty street. You could picture Dana doing it, no hesitation.

You lingered for a moment longer, then went back in together, letting the noise and heat swallow you once more. The world shifted, settling into something steadier.

You slipped back into your seat, but your mind was still stuck on the conversation you’d just had. Maybe you would tell them soon. Maybe fate would step aside and let you do it on your own terms. Either way, you knew you’d survive. For the first time in months, you were looking forward to what happened next.

Chapter Text

Robby spotted you weaving through the people cluttering up the ED’s corridors. You’d just dropped off a wheezing overdose and were already halfway back to your rig. He could’ve let you go. Should have, maybe. Instead, he stepped into your path, hands fisted in his hoodie pockets as he waited to see if you were going to talk to him or just keep barreling through.

“Hey, Doc,” you said, slowing but not stopping. “Busy day?”

“Busier than it needs to be,” he replied, falling into step beside you. “You keep bringing us the weird ones.”

Your lips curved. “Not my fault the city’s full of weirdos.”

He halted and turned to face you, his head tilted as he took you in. “You know, you’re incredibly intuitive. Ever think about medical school? You’d make a fantastic doctor. Or an ED nurse if that’s more your speed.”

You blinked, then laughter exploded from you—a full-on belly laugh that had you bending in half for a second.  

Robby arched an eyebrow, amusement lifting the corners of his mouth. “That was funny?”

You held up both hands in surrender, backing away toward the doors. “No, no. It’s just—” another burst of laughter stole your words. You called back toward the hub. “Hey, Dana!”

“Yeah?” Dana shot back, not even looking up from her charting.

You pointed at Robby with a grin. “Dr. Robinavitch thinks I’d make a great doctor.”

Silence, then the hub erupted in laughter. Dana’s laugh was low and full while Princess giggled behind her hand. Even Perlah shook her head in disbelief.

Robby, caught in the middle, looked from you to the nurses and back again. “What?” he demanded, grinning despite feeling like he was the joke.

You simply grinned again and stepped out the door, leaving him behind. He lingered in the corridor, nonplussed, until Dana’s smirk and the chatter between the other two lured him to the hub. Arms folded, he slumped against the counter.  “Okay. I’m obviously missing something. What is it?”

Dana’s lips curved, slow and deliberate, as she typed out a final note and hit enter. Only then did she grace him with a glance. “You really want to know?”

He gave her a deadpan stare. “Well, everyone else seems to be in on the joke. Why not me?”

She shrugged, her lips twitching in amusement. “She is a doctor.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Katrina? No.”

Perlah leaned in, voice pitched for privacy. “It’s true.”

“Bullshit,” he said but it came out sounding hopeful.

Dana pushed her chair back an inch to see him better and slid off her glasses. “She was on staff at Presby during the pandemic.”

That hit like a sucker punch. “So why is she running EMS?” Robby asked, turning to look at the doors you’d just vanished through.

“Some anti-vax shithead ambushed her in the parking lot after way too many hours in full PPE. He grabbed her shoulder and got in her face. Demanded to know what his dad ‘really’ died of because COVID wasn’t real. She laid him out. Presby put her on leave and she told them to fuck off. Her friend worked EMS so she signed up. Said it was less claustrophobic anyway.”

He flashed back to his days drowning in PPE and understood that intimately. Robby leaned back, whistled low. “Holy shit.”

“Yep,” Dana replied, almost fond. “She’s a legend even if she pretends otherwise.”

Robby ran a hand over his beard, piecing together every weird little exchange, every time you had known the answer before the rest of them. He felt stupid for not seeing it, but also a little bit delighted.

He grinned, turned on his heel and walked away toward his rounds, leaving them chuckling behind him. He barely slowed as he barked over his shoulder. “Dana, tell her if she wants back in, apply here. Gloria owes me one. Or twelve. I’ll put in a good word.”

Dana’s eyes widened but she was already pulling out her phone. “I’ll let her know, Cap.”

He could already picture you in a Pitt badge, running codes, bossing around the junior staff, and making Jack’s head explode at least twice per shift. It was beautiful. It was necessary.

He had to get Jack on board to help him convince you. Surely between the two of them they could convince you that they were so much better than Presby.  As he met the paramedics running through the doors, Robby felt lighter than he had in months at just the possibility.

***

It was after 1800 before you found yourself back in the Pitt. The guy on your gurney was all lean muscle. He’d been pissing in a fountain when the police caught him. He’d headbutted one of the cops hard enough to split his own head open in the process. It went well with the deep festering human bite mark on one arm that you weren’t entirely certain he hadn’t done to himself. Now, he wore a full set of soft restraints along with handcuffs on one wrist. He hadn’t stopped spouting off half-baked conspiracy theories, voice slurred from whatever his particular poison was.

You parked him in front of an empty bay, then hurried the few feet to catch Robby at the hub, leaving your partner and your police escort to watch the patient. The attending looked wiped but the smile he gave you took years off his face.

“Male, forties, violent psychosis, probable polysubstance. Soft restrained and cuffed. GCS fifteen, but minus about a hundred points for being a total dick.”

He grinned. “Medical history?”

“Best I can tell he believes the Clintons microchipped his colon. No ID unless he hid it somewhere I’m not looking. He came up clean when the cops ran his prints.”

Robby grunted, waving you off. “Park him in five. We’ll get him started. Next shift can take over. But if you have a second, I’d like to talk to you before you go.”

You turned and saw a figure slinking along the corridor wall. Your partner and the cop were deep in conversation about last night’s game, only paying cursory attention to the patient. Your steps quickened. The roaming man’s predatory gaze fixed on the gurney’s ankle strap. Before you could shout, he thumbed the Velcro loose.

Your patient flexed his leg and released himself. You lunged even as your partner yelled for help. The patient’s size ten army boot caught you square in the face.

Pain exploded behind your eyes like a flashbang. For a second you saw nothing, heard nothing but your own pulse in your ears. Then the world slammed back, too bright, too loud. Blood, warm and fast poured down your face and ran down your throat. You pitched forward onto your hands, the taste of iron on your tongue.

A roar of voices rose behind you. Robby’s shout loudest of all.  “GET HIM DOWN. Collins, give me four of Ativan, IV push—GO!”

Jack’s clipped voice cut in as he ran through the doors and dropped his bag to jump into the chaos. “Get that leg secure, damn it, before someone else gets hurt.”

 You blinked up at them. Robby and Jack were trying to pin the patient to the bed while others scrambled around them, giving meds and adjusting restraints. The man howled at Robby, “You’re not God!”

“No,” Robby replied, voice dry as a bone. “But I am the guy with the drugs.”

You tried to rise but your knees buckled and you ended up on your ass, hands covering your nose. Frank Langdon dropped to a crouch beside you, cold hands pressing gently at your wrists to peel them away from your face. He didn’t ask if you were all right, he already knew the answer.

The blood had run all the way down your chin, pooling in the hollow of your throat and soaking the front of your shirt. You coughed, spat a clot, then hissed, “Motherfucker.” You squinted as Frank pressed a gauze pad under your nose.

“You need to work on your poker face, Langdon,” you muttered, catching his grimace when he saw the carnage.

Frank started to say something but was drowned out by Jack, still working on getting the patient sedated so he could be moved to a more secure room. “She gonna live?” he didn’t sound concerned but his eyes flicked over twice in three seconds.

“I’m fine,” you said and Frank made a face that suggested you were a spectacularly bad liar.

Robby glanced over, brows lifted in skepticism. “Yeah, she’s great,” he said, voice loaded with sarcasm. “Langdon, get her vertical, then come help Abbot.” He checked the now subdued patient’s pupils with a penlight, holding his face steady with one gloved hand.

Frank helped you up by the elbow, easy and slow, then steered you to a chair just outside the hub. You sat, head tipped forward, gaze tracing a crack in the floor.

You lifted your head as Frank switched out the gauze for a fresh pad. You saw the mess and laughed. “At least red’s my color.”

Frank stood over you with a frown. “You good until Robby gets over here, or should I get the Foley kit now?” he teased.

“You’re a real comfort, Frank.” You tried to focus on something other than the pounding in your head.

Across the hall, Jack was dressing down your partner Rick, wanting to know what the fuck happened. Robby looked over at you again, eyes narrowed in concern and annoyance.

You watched Frank leave, then closed your eyes and counted your pulse, feeling it hammer against your temples. Dana appeared before you even finished counting to sixty, her presence a wall between you and the hallway’s chaos. She bent to eye-level and gave a tight smile. “Oh, honey. He got you good.”

“Just what I needed today. Free rhinoplasty.”

Dana’s eyes narrowed and she tilted up your chin, switching out the gauze once more. She stepped back when Robby jogged over, hands in fresh gloves. He looked down at you with a doctor’s concern and the lingering irritation that it had happened in the first place.

“Let me see,” he said, already reaching for you.

You jerked back, reflexive and sharp, fear spiking through you. “Isn’t there someone else that can look at it?”

Robby’s hand hung for a second, then slowly dropped. The hub went a notch quieter as everyone listened but pretended they weren’t. He took a step closer, voice lower. “You don’t trust me?”

The hurt in his voice, immediately had you backpedaling. “Of course I do,” you retorted, looking at his chest so you didn’t have to meet his eyes. “Just—” You couldn’t make the words form. Couldn’t come up with a viable excuse. Your hands trembled a little, whether from pain or nerves you had no idea.

Robby waited, arms folded now and when you dared to look at his face, you found hurt there and a flash of something else. Offense maybe. Or disappointment.

You pressed the gauze to your nose again and tried to think of a way to explain that didn’t sound insane. You failed. Miserably.

“Look,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper. “This wasn’t supposed to happen here. Not like this anyway.”

Robby’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

You looked down at the mess that covered you. You closed your fist, squeezed until the knuckles went white. You guessed time was up. “Fuck it,” you said, then reached out and grabbed Robby’s wrist, hard enough to feel his pulse under your thumb.

The world snapped. It was like a live wire had been jammed into your spine. The skin on your left forearm burned as the black ‘Michael’ shimmered and turned gold.

Your eyes locked. “Show me,” he demanded, his voice rough.

You let go of his wrist and pushed up the sleeve that covered the names on your forearm. His mouth dropped open, eyes wide in shock.

“You’re—” he started but the words stuck. “You’re Angel.”

“Nice to meet you, Michael.”

***

The golden shimmer on your forearm seared into his brain—Michael, in his own handwriting, as if he’d branded you himself. He didn’t need to look to know the same had happened to your name on his ribs. The mark he’d carried since he was twelve, the one he’d traced a thousand times, flared up in a pulse of white-hot recognition.

He tried to speak but all that came out was, “Holy shit. Christ.” He was aware of the attention you’d gotten from those in closest proximity to you. He didn’t give a damn.

Angel. It all made sense now. The way he was drawn to you, the way they both were. He’d spent years wondering if they’d find their third, and here you were rewiring every circuit in his head. For half a second the world faded to the two of you. Then you hissed, pain bringing you back to the present and Robby’s brain snapped into clinical mode. He bent and gently probed your nose with his thumbs feeling for crepitus or instability.

You winced but didn’t pull away. Not this time. He tilted your head back and used his pen light to try to get a better look but there was still too much blood.

“Septum’s midline. No obvious break but you’ll need a scan.” He continued to feel along your cheek bones making sure there was no further injury. “Were you ever going to tell us?” he asked and the words came out smaller than he’d meant for them to.

You swallowed, a miserable smile twisting your lips. “I was building up to it.”

The moment was cut short by Dana, who reappeared holding a wet rag and handed it off to Robby. “Not the time, lover boy. Clean her up.”

“Right. Sorry,” he said with a nod. He wiped as much blood from your skin as he could, trying to be gentle with your face earning a ‘son of a mother fucking bitch’ when he got to the nose. When he finished, he handed it over so you could scrub what you could from your hands and arms.

Robby stepped back, hands locked behind his neck, pacing a small manic circle in front of you. He kept looking at the gold letters on your arm, then at your face, then at the floor. The urge to say something—anything—kept crashing against the inside of his skull, but the words kept failing him.

He settled for watching you as the Pitt rolled on around them. The soulmate he’d started to think they’d never meet was sitting right in front of him. Bleeding, but still alive, and looking at him with a wild, impossible intensity.

He stood there for a long time, waiting for the gold to fade.

It never did.

Chapter Text

Robby’s emotions slammed into Jack’s sternum like a fist, hot, raw and impossible to ignore. Anger, irritation, hope, hurt—they crashed into him all at once and he couldn’t sort through them. A concerned frown tugged at his lips. He’d learned a long time ago how to filter out Robby’s emotions. He only felt them now if they were particularly strong or he focused on them.

His gaze found Robby pacing the floor in short, brisk steps. His hands were laced behind his neck, shoulders curled forward. Jack looked from him to you slumped in your chair. Color was creeping back into your face, but it was all the wrong colors—streaks of crimson that hadn’t been wiped away and the blue-purple of rising bruises. Your eyes were fixed on Robby.

Jack moved toward you, his gaze flicking from Robby’s clenched jaw to your damaged face. “How you doing, sweetheart?” his voice came out warmer than he’d intended. Both your heads snapped to him at once. A smirk lifted the corner of his lips. His eyes rested on you, letting you know that you were the reason he was there.

Robby halted mid-stride, then pivoted to face you, arms locked across his chest. He was always tightly coiled, but tonight that energy crackled. Jack could almost taste it. Seconds ticked by in silence before Robby finally snapped. “Go ahead. Tell him.” The words came out brittle, almost a dare.

Jack’s brows rose. He stepped closer, kept his voice calm to defuse the situation. “Tell me what?”

Your gaze turned icy as you glared at Robby. Jack’s chest tightened. What the hell had he missed? “Seriously. What’s going on?”

Robby let out a frustrated huff. “Meet Angel.” The sarcasm was sharp enough to slice through bone.

Jack blinked, heart stuttering. He looked at you, searched your face and only found that same glare still directed at Robby. “Wait—really?”

You looked down then and nodded once, quick and shallow, as if the gesture cost you everything.

He let the news roll over him. He’d spent most of his life hoping for this moment, and now that it was here, it didn’t feel real. Warm relief flickered through him, mingling with stunned disbelief. His lips twisted into a lopsided smile before he could help it. “Fucking hell,” he breathed. “Small world.”

Nothing in Robby softened. If anything, he only became more tense.

Jack tilted his head. “Wait. Why are you pissed? God, we’ve been waiting, hoping...” It didn’t make any sense to him. Robby should be thrilled. They’d spent more time talking about you than was probably healthy, especially because they didn’t know you were their soulmate.

That’s when Robby cracked. “She knew,” he bit out. “She fucking knew and said nothing.” The words landed heavy and you flinched.

You stood too fast, swaying on your feet for a half second before catching yourself on the counter. “I can’t do this right now. I need to close out my shift.”

Jack’s heart sank. He saw it then, beneath the irritation—the way your gaze wouldn’t settle on either of them for too long, the flash of guilt in it when it did. He reached out and caught your wrist as you tried to move past him. The feeling of the bond connecting slammed into him, hot, sharp and unmistakable. The tiny trickle of doubt he’d still had evaporated in the wake of the sensation. The mark on his thigh burned, your name a searing heat before fading into a steady, pleasant warmth beneath his scrubs.

Your eyes widened, surprise and something softer shining in their depths. “What is it, Jack?”

“You’re not leaving like that.” His gaze roamed over your face, swelling and bearing steadily darkening bruises. “We’ll talk about everything else later. Right now, you need an x-ray.”

You groaned low in her throat. “I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

He lifted a skeptical brow, the move so familiar he could do it in his sleep and probably did. “You took a boot to the face. Humor me.”

For a second, you just stared at him as if weighing the pros and cons of doing as he asked without fighting him on it. Then you exhaled a long, angry breath. “Fine. Let me talk to my partner for a minute. I can’t just ghost.”

Jack nodded and released your wrist, half expecting you to bolt. Instead, you squared your shoulders and strode across the corridor to the medic whose uniform said Stewart. You marched up to him and said something too low to be overheard. Stewart’s eyebrows shot up and he glanced over at Jack and Robby to find them both watching.

Your partner put his attention back on you. The two of you argued, quiet but animated, you gesturing back to the hub. Stewart shook his head and grabbed you by the sleeve, pulling you further away as if you could find privacy in the middle of the ED if he just tried hard enough.

It was impossible not the hear the way Stewart’s voice spiked on the words ‘serious?’ followed by ‘what the hell are you going to do?’ You shrugged as your partner raked a hand through his hair. The two of you were too close to be mere colleagues. He didn’t like it, but Jack was glad you had someone looking out for you.

He turned as Dana stepped up behind him. “There’s shit you don’t know,” she said, voice pitched for Jack and Robby alone. “Either of you.” Her gaze moved between them before settling on you across the room.

Jack hesitated. He didn’t like secrets, but they weren’t Dana’s to tell.

Robby apparently didn’t have the same hangups about privacy. “What is it?” he asked, his tone raw and vulnerable.

Dana huffed out a breath. “Hell, I hardly know any of it, but I know enough. Just—be patient. Listen more than you talk for once.” She jabbed a finger at Jack then at Robby. “You get one shot at this so don’t fuck it up.” She disappeared just as quick as she’d came, off to do one of the countless tasks that kept the Pitt running.

Robby ran a hand down his face. “Shit. It was just a shock, that’s all.,” he said, softer than Jack had ever heard him. “I thought…I don’t know what I thought.”

Jack placed a hand on Robby’s arm, anchoring him. “It’s a lot to take in and we’re not exactly great with change. Just don’t chase her off before we even get a chance to know her, baby.”

Robby nodded, shoulders sagging. His gaze drifted to the wheelchair Dana slid over from the far end of the corridor. “Think she’ll sit in that willingly?”

Jack managed a half-smile. “Not a chance. But we’ll ask nicely.”

When you came back, Jack could see a muscle twitching in your jaw. You barely noticed the chair at first, then frowned at it like it had personally offended you.

“You going to sit without a fight?” Jack asked. “Or do we need to beg?”

You eyed the chair then him. “Can’t I walk?”

“I’m sure you can,” he said lightly. “But it’s a trek to radiology and we try not to let possible concussions roam around on their own two feet. Bad for the insurance rates.”

Your shoulders sagged and you lowered herself into the seat with a sigh, wincing at the jolt that went through you at the action. You clenched the armrests, jaw tight.

Robby crouched in front of you, hands on the arms of the chair. His anger had evaporated, replaced by genuine concern. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, eyes sincere.

“Like I got kicked in the face,” you freely admitted. “Got an aspirin?”

“Where are you at on the pain scale?” Robby asked in full doctor mode.

You hesitated then shrugged. “Five. Maybe six. It’s not bad if I don’t breathe.”

Robby snorted. “Easy fix, then.” He stood and stepped out of the way so Jack could do a quick check of your pupils.

You tolerated it and even leaned into his hand a little when he cradled your head to feel your skull with his fingers. He met Robby’s eye over your head, having a full conversation about pain relief and dosage with just a look. Jack ducked out and returned in less than two minutes with an ampule, a syringe and a band aid dotted with rainbow smiley faces. He sat it all on the counter and gloved up.

“Any drug allergies?” he asked, tone clipped and professional.

You watched him load the syringe. “Penicillin, but try not to let that out. It’ll kill my reputation.”

He flicked the syringe once then swabbed your arm. He pushed the plunger in slow, watching you for any sign of reaction. When he finished, he placed the band aid over the injection sight. You didn’t need it but studies proved everyone felt better with a smiley face bandage. Especially the rainbow ones.

“What was that?” you asked, flexing her hand.

“Just enough morphine to take the edge off,” Jack said. “If you want enough to hallucinate, you have to ask nicely.”

Dana reappeared then, icepack in hand. She handed it to you.

“I love you, Dana. You’re my favorite,” you said, laying the cold against your nose.

“Hey,” Jack protested in mock offense. “We’re right here.”

You tilted your head with a smirk. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

Jack heard Robby chuckle behind him, sounding completely relaxed for the first time in the last hour. He’d take it as a win. “Let us do handoff,” Jack said. “Then Robby will take you for your x-ray. See if the damage is as bad as it looks.”

You closed your eyes and sighed as you sunk back against the chair. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Robby lingered until Jack nudged him with a shoulder. “The world won’t end if we leave her alone for five minutes.”

***

You watched your soulmates walk away and tried to quell your inner panic that screamed that this was all too easy. That they were only pretending to accept you because they were in the middle of their work and didn’t want to cause a scene. Once they were away from here, they’d reject you, never want to see you again.

Dana leaned next to you. “How you holding up?”

You lifted one eye to peer at her around the icepack in disbelief at the question.

Dana smirked. “Your nose will be fine. I meant how are you doing with the two idiots that just discovered they’re your soulmates.”

“Still processing,” you admitted.

“No, you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Dana countered.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “I can’t help it.”

“Give them a chance. They might surprise you.”

You nodded, hoping your friend was right but fear still churned in your gut.

“So,” Dana said with a dramatic pause, “should I point out that Robby was wearing gloves and wouldn’t have triggered the bond if you hadn’t touched him? Or would you rather I not?”

Your eyes went wide before you squeezed them shut in irritation with a groan. Dana moved away, her cackles trailing behind her as she went.

Chapter Text

Dana checked on you one more time, giving you a fresh ice pack before gathering her things to go. She patted Robby’s shoulder on the way by. “Take care of the doc,” she said and disappeared before he could roll his eyes.

Jack looked from Robby to Dana’s retreating form and back again. “Why do I need to be taken care of?” Jack asked, looking genuinely confused.

Robby bit back a laugh, realizing Jack had yet to be filled in on their soulmate’s other secret. “She was talking about Angel.”

Jack frowned, now looking from Robby to you. “She’s the one bleeding. Shouldn’t we be taking care of her?”

At that, he couldn’t bite back the laugh any longer. “I mean Angel is the doc in question. She’s a doctor.” Robby savored every word as it landed, seeing Jack just as off kilter by the information as he’d been earlier.

His eyebrows shot up as his jaw dropped. “No way.”

They moved back in your direction. Robby nodded. “Yep. Dana told me this morning.”

You glared at them over your icepack. “You two done gossiping?”

“Never,” Jack protested. He shook his head. “You seriously never thought to mention it?”

You shrugged, the movement making you wince. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Didn’t seem—” Robby broke off, almost laughing. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was trying to be humble?” you asked without looking up, just keeping the cold pressed against your face.

Robby considered it. “Not for a second.”

Before Jack could add his own two cents, Lena’s voice broke across their conversation. “Three car MVC, four victims. ETA three minutes.”

“Shit,” he said. “I’m up, but I’m getting this full story later.” He shifted focus to Robby. “Take care of her.” Then he was gone.

Robby grabbed the handles of your wheelchair and steered you toward the elevator. “Shall we, Doctor?”

You huffed a laugh. “You don’t sound so mad anymore.” Your voice was softer around the edges, less charged as if you’d lost some of your irritation as well.

“Still deciding how I feel,” he said, decided to be honest. “But I figure I’ll reserve judgement until I know the whole story.”

You twisted in the chair to look back at him. “That’s very mature of you, Dr. Robinavitch.”

He snorted. “Isn’t it? Feels weird.”

The elevator was freezing as it usually was. Robby pushed the button with his knuckle then leaned against the wall, one hand on the chair.

“You’re really not mad?” your voice was quiet.

He took a second before answering. “Not at you. Fate, maybe. Or myself for not seeing it.”

You didn’t reply, but your shoulders relaxed, just a fraction.

When the door opened, the waiting area outside radiology was empty except for one guy in scrubs scrolling on his phone, probably waiting for a patient. He parked you in the hall and checked in with a tech. That done, he leaned on the wall beside you and waited for your turn. The silence stretched between you until Robby finally broke it.

“So, when did you know about us?” he asked.

You fiddled with the now warm icepack lying in your lap. “Girl’s night. Dana saw my license, recognized the name.”

Robby blinked. “That’s it? Two days?”

You nodded but then hesitated. “Well, I suspected before then but didn’t know for sure.”

The corner of his lips lifted in mild amusement. “Of course you did.”

“I hoped, maybe,” you continued. “No one ever really…did much for me, you know? I dated but I was never gone over any of them like my friends.” Your thumb traced over your band aid. “Then I met you two and wow. I knew your names matched the ones on my arm, but what if I was wrong? Or what if I wasn’t and you were disappointed?”

Robby snorted. “You think we’d be disappointed? In you?”

You shrugged again, smaller this time.

He studied you for a moment, the way your leg bounced, the restless way you kept looking anywhere but at him. “Not disappointed,” he said. “Promise.”

You looked up in surprise.

“Let’s wait and have this conversation with Jack.” He reached over and squeezed your hand, the contact sending a subtle thrill up his arm, as if the soulbond was a live wire just under the skin. “Then you don’t have to do it twice.”

You didn’t say anything but he could see the relief in your gaze.

“We’re also going to need the full story on you being a doctor,” he said to change the topic. “I want the full uncut version. Ethics violations. Every time you made a resident cry. Every time you made your attending cry.”

“There’s a lot of crying in your version, Robby.” You rolled your eyes.

“It’s medical school.,” he said as if that explained everything, and it kind of did.

A door opened and a tech stepped into the hall and said your name. You pushed yourself up before Robby could protest and walked over to the man. You glanced back at the door as if making certain he was still there. “See you in five.”

He let his head fall back against the wall behind him with a sigh, running this crazy day through his head. Jesus. He ran a hand down his face and chuckled to himself. This fucking day, man. When you stepped back into the hall, the tech trailed behind. He passed the tablet with the scan on it to Robby.

He pulled on his glasses to get a better look. No breaks other a thin hairline along the bridge of your nose. You’d be fine with some tape for support. “Thank you,” he said, passing the tablet back. He put his glasses away and turned to you to deliver the verdict. You blinked at him with an unreadable expression.

“What?” he asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

You blinked and cleared your throat. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in glasses before. That’s all.”

He arched a brow not quite believing you. “Hmm. We’ll tape your nose and you’ll be good to go.”

He wheeled you back to the hub. The previous trauma seemed to have already been dealt with, the board lit up with four new admits, three for observation and one for the ICU. You slumped in the chair as he finished taping your nose, obviously exhausted. “Can I go home now?”

Robby folded his arms and did his best Chief Attending impression. “Discharge instructions: No driving until the morphine wears off, ice the face, ibuprofen as needed. Call if the pain gets worse or you can’t breathe through it. How are you getting home?”

“Uber?” you said hopefully.

His lips pulled into a frown. “Absolutely not.” When you opened your mouth to protest, he cut you off. “You’re covered in blood. Even if they are picking you up at the hospital, it will raise some eyebrows. Let me take you home. Then we’ll know you made it and won’t worry so much.”

You sighed but agreed with no argument. You really must be tired. “Let me give Jack an update and we’ll go.”

He found the man in question hovering at the edge of a trauma bay watching the residents do their work. He glanced over when he felt Robby’s presence. “She good?”

“Hairline. I taped her up. I’m going to steal the truck to take her home. I’ll bring it back,” Robby told him.

Jack shook his head. “Just bring it in the morning. It’s not like I’ll need it before then.”

Robby nodded, squeezing his shoulder before he left. He found you where he’d left you unwrapping a sucker with your teeth. “Want one?” you asked.

He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not five. Where’d you get that anyway?”

“Lena gave it to me.”

He glanced at the charge nurse who shrugged. “What? She was a good patient.”

Robby shook his head and helped you stand. “You head toward the bay. I’ll grab my crap from my locker.” He pointed at you. “And so help me if you leave without me…”

He trailed off and you just grinned at him. “Relax, doc. You’re so high strung.”

Lena snorted a laugh but her face looked the picture of innocence when he glanced at her. He just hurried off to get his stuff, stealing Jack’s keys from his locker. He found you waiting for him just inside the ambulance bay doors, and some tenseness faded from his shoulders. You left the Pitt together. Robby helped you get settled in the passenger seat, then got behind the wheel and started the engine.

The truck was clean as it always was and smelled faintly of the coffee Jack had drunk on the way into work. The drive was quiet, but not awkward, both of you just decompressing from the day. He followed your soft directions to a street lined with duplexes and pulled over where you indicated. He killed the engine and waited.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice so quiet he barely heard it.

He hesitated, then said, “I don’t like leaving you alone.”

You huffed a laugh. “Oh, I’m not alone.” You pointed to a building a bit down the block overflowing with people. “I got injured on shift. They’ll be here to check on me. Plus, Rick probably told them all about you being my soulmates. I won’t be getting rid of any of them until after a thorough interrogation.”

Robby relaxed a little. “Get some rest. And let us know if you need anything.”

You smiled, tired but sincere. “Sure, doc.”

He watched you walk to the door, watched it open and swallow you up. When the door closed, he waited a moment longer before heading home.

Sleep evaded him that night as he tossed and turned with worry. The sheets twisted around his legs. He thought about texting you just to check in but realized that he didn’t even have your number. He was an idiot. “Fuck.”

His phone buzzed and he fumbled for it before sliding it open.

Dana: She says to quit worrying and go to sleep. She’s fine.

He barked out a laugh then typed back. You sure?

Dana: As sure as I am that you’re an idiot. You didn’t even get her number? I taught you better than that.

Robby: You taught me to get women’s numbers? Jack will be so disappointed in you. Give me her number.

Dana: Nope.

Robby: Give her ours.

Dana: Already did. She’ll call you if she needs something.

He sat the phone down, stared at the ceiling and finally drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning Jack and Robby had already completed handoff but both were still huddled at the hub in front of Dana, waiting for her to crack. She looked at them unimpressed over the top of her glasses as she sipped her coffee.

“Come on, Dana,” Robby pressed as he shifted his weight on his feet. “Just give us the number. It’s not like were going to prank call her, for fuck’s sake.”

He offered her a winning grin but she didn’t even blink. “You want her number, get it off her chart.” She drained the rest of her coffee as she skimmed over something on the computer. “That’s what patient charts are for.”

Jack grunted, crossing his arms. “That is the exact opposite of what they’re for, actually.” He raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Robby.

Dana just gave him a deadpan stare for even insinuating she’d been serious. “It is not my job to run your social lives, Abbot. Should have asked the girl for her number when she was here. Or anytime since you two first saw her and about tripped over yourselves.”

Robby shot a desperate look to Jack seeking backup. Jack just shrugged. They weren’t going to get anything out of the charge nurse she wasn’t willing to give. And she liked Katrina—Angel, they all did. Dana’s fierce protectiveness was legendary. If she wasn’t giving, no amount of charming or bargaining would budge her.

Robby leaned forward on the counter. “Please. I’m not above begging. I just want to check on her.”

Dana’s lips twitched. “Wild idea, why not just wait for her to show up? She always does.” Her tone was laced with amusement.

Jack was amused, despite himself. There was something satisfying about seeing his unflappable soulmate thrown into chaos by a medic with steel gray eyes and a riot of curls. He was enjoying every second of it until a voice cut through the chatter of the hub.

“Quit pestering the poor charge nurse. She has enough to do without you two harassing her.” The voice was soft but confident and tinged with humor.

Jack turned and there she was. Angel had traded her EMS gear for a pair of black scrubs and a gray cardigan a touch lighter than her eyes. Her face was mottled in shades of black, blue and purple and she wore a single strip of tape across the bridge of her nose. He found himself smiling at the spark of mischief in her eyes.

Robby spun around, hands already reaching for her arms, but Jack stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. They closed in around her, not crowding but shielding her from the rest of the hub.

“What are you doing here?” Robby asked, words tripping over each other. He swallowed. “Shit, are you even okay to work?”

Jack nudged him with an elbow. “Calm down, Mike, and let her talk.”

Dana snorted and Jack caught Princess and Perlah at the end of the desk, both pretending not to listen but very much hanging on every syllable.

Jack reached out with slow, deliberate care and tilted Katrina’s chin, coaxing her head gently from side to side to examine the bruising. “How you feeling, Angel?”

She blinked and then smiled wide. “Like I got kicked in the face.”

Jack said the last four words with her and grinned. “That’s because you did.”

She snorted, then winced when the movement tugged at the tape.

He let go, though it was the last thing he wanted to do. “Why are you in scrubs?” he asked even as he scanned the rest of her outfit for clues.

Robby’s eyes widened just now noticing her attire.

Katrina let the silence stretch, the hub going quiet as all the eavesdroppers awaited her answer. She grinned again. “I’m the new floating attending for the ED.”

As soon as she said the word attending, Jack felt something loosen as a little of the perpetual tension eased. Robby’s smile lit his face. “Are you—are you serious?” Disbelief colored his words.

She shrugged. “Dana knew. Asked her to keep it quiet until I walked in. I wanted to see your faces.”

Dana who’d been the master of the poker face until then, finally smirked. “Best prank in years. I approve.”

Jack tried stifle the grin that spread across his face. “It’s about damn time. And I’m fucking thrilled it’s you.” The words came out in a flood of gratitude and relief.

Katrina quirked an eyebrow. “Because I’m your soulmate or because you need the help?”

Robby hummed, eyes bright. “Not because of the soulmate thing. We know you know what you’re doing. The bond is just…” He shrugged, cheeks coloring.

“A bonus,” Jack finished for him.

She nodded, approval in her eyes. “Good answer.”

Dana still chuckling, shook her head. “This is better than a daytime soap. Things are going to get a lot more entertaining around here. You two done falling at her feet or do you want to kiss in the supply closet next?”

Robby turned scarlet and Jack felt heat rise in his neck. “That was one time, Dana,” Robby muttered, voice dropping an octave.

“Yeah, we make out on the roof now,” Jack added and was rewarded with Angel’s laughter while Robby uttered a quiet ‘Jesus’ beside him. He finally tore his eyes from their newfound mate and glanced to Dana. “I think that’s enough drama for now.”

Dana raised her mug in a mock salute. “Then get the hell out of here. Some of us have to run this circus without a full support staff.”

Jack gave a two finger wave and Robby rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. It was good to see. “Mind showing me the locker room?” Katrina asked, brushing a wayward curl behind her ear.

“Happy to,” Jack said and started down the hall. He tilted his head to get a better look at her profile. He felt a surge of protectiveness that he shoved down. “Impressive bruising,” he observed, only half joking.

She huffed a laugh. “I’m not one to do things halfway, Jack.”

He liked the way she said his name. That she’d used his first name at all, even if he had been calling her Angel almost exclusively since he’d discovered the truth.  He opened the door. “It’s not much to look at.”

“I’ve had worse,” she said with a shrug. He didn’t ask even though he very much wanted to. He filed that away with all the other things he had to ask her about.

It was a small room with lockers lining the walls and a bench running down the middle. A counter with a sink sat to one side and he went over and grabbed a roll of masking tape and a marker out of a drawer. “Pick a locker, any locker. Tape your name to the front. Helps the janitors know what to throw out when we die of exhaustion.”

She took the tape from him and ripped off a length of it. Instead of slapping it on the nearest empty spot, she paused looking thoughtful.

Jack watched her. “What is it?”

She shrugged. “Feels weird to pick one at random. Like I’m trespassing or something.”

Jack pursed his lips, eyes shifting between her and the bank of lockers. Then, before he really registered what he was doing, he peeled the tape off his own locker and moved it one slot to the left. “There. Now you can be between me and Robby.”

Katrina watched him do it, a slow smile creeping across her face. “Thanks, Abbot Jack.”

He wiped his hands on his pants and motioned for the marker. “Let me?” She held out the tape and he slapped it on the locker before writing Sparks and underlining it twice. “There. It’s official.”

She smoothed the edges of the tape down with her fingertips. “Not a bad place to land, all things considered.”

He liked the way it looked, the three names lined up. As if the universe was finally making sense.

He set the code on his new locker, then opened the old one and started transferring things over. “What’s your schedule?” he asked as he worked, darting her the occasional glance.

“I have to do all the admin crap today, then I have a meeting tomorrow. After that, I’m on nights with you for three, then swing to days with Robby for two.”

Jack ran over the calendar in his head and frowned. “Damn it. I’m off the next two nights. I wanted to be there when you started.”

The corner of her lips curled. “I know. I meant what I said. I’m on when you come back.”

He studied her face for a minute. “Come home with Robby tonight? We can talk. Have dinner.”

She tilted her head considering, that spark of mischief in her eyes again. “I’ll consider it.”

“That’s just fine, Angel,” he said, but couldn’t help the disappointment that settled in his gut. Hopefully, he’d kept it out of his voice.

He helped her set a new code on her locker and waited while she hung her cardigan inside after pulling a purple stethoscope out of the pocket and draping it around her neck. He arched a brow. “Thought you were doing admin today?”

“Better to be prepared.”

Jack nodded as he grabbed his bag to head home. They walked together until she peeled off at the hub while he continued toward the bay. She paused just long enough to look back over her shoulder and give him a wave and a smile.

He returned it, watched until she settled at the counter to talk to Dana, then let himself breathe. He almost made it to the exit before his phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped it out and blinked at the screen.

Unknown: See you tonight

He laughed and typed back: Looking forward to it. He slid his phone back into his pocket and headed for his truck, already counting down the hours until he saw her again.

Chapter Text

By 1100, the regular chaos of the Pitt was in full swing. Robby hadn’t seen you since you’d disappeared into the administration labyrinth upstairs. He didn’t envy you even if he was up to his ears in flu cases at the moment. He honestly didn’t think he’d see you again today at all. New hire paperwork was its own special circle of hell.

He squinted at a lab result on the tablet that made no sense. He scrolled back to the patient information making sure he was thinking of the right case. When he confirmed, he switched back to the lab results that still weren’t coherent. He was reaching for the phone to call the lab when a voice spoke right next to his ear.

“Are you normally the only attending on your shift?”

Robby jerked, his elbow knocking into the counter. He hissed and rubbed it as he turned to find you standing beside him. Your arms were crossed, your brows drawn together in concern though you couldn’t hide the trace of amusement at having startled him.

“Jesus,” he said and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to watch you frown at those lab results like you could scare them into changing.” You gestured at the tablet. “You’re not crazy. There’s no way that sodium is right unless the patient is actually a pickle. Better have it redrawn and resubmit. You know they’ll never admit it’s their error.”

Robby supposed that was universal for all hospitals. He nodded and glanced at Perlah. “Redraw a rainbow in 8, please. We’ll just have them rerun the lot.” He set the tablet down and turned back to you. “You sneak up on everyone or am I just special?”

You shrugged. “You didn’t answer my question about being the only attending.”

He sighed. “Yes, usually. I have two R3s who aren’t totally useless and a handful of med students who are.”

“No senior residents?” You peered at the board, scanning through the names.

“Lost my R4 to Presby last month.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but failed.

You snorted. “Idiot.”

The corner of Robby’s mouth twitched upward. “They’ve got better parking.”

“And worse mortality rates,” you said, eyebrows arched. “Plus, half the senior staff are assholes.”

Robby shrugged. “We’re a level one trauma center. Not everyone can hack it. Besides, rumor has it you might be a bit biased when it comes to Presby.”

You narrowed your gaze but didn’t rise to the bait. “So you are the only senior staff when it comes to doctors on the day shift?”

“Well, not now that you’re here. Langdon and Collins are due to move up to R4 in a couple of months. Dr. Lodecker covers for me on my days off which aren’t many. It’s just the way it is,” he said, not liking it but there wasn’t much he could do about it besides complain to Gloria who didn’t give a shit.

“I suppose coverage is why you and Jack are on opposite shifts.”

Robby nodded. “Jack likes nights. It sucks not seeing each other much but I try to make sure our schedules line up. Gloria tried to put a stop to that and we threatened to quit.”

You pursed your lips but didn’t say anything and Robby wondered what was going through your head. Your gaze drifted over the ED taking in everyone doing their jobs.

“You done for the day?” he asked.

“No,” you said. “Well, yes but you’re my ride so I thought I’d stick around.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “I’m your ride?”

You hummed in agreement.

He blinked at you. “Well, then we have a problem because I walked.”

You grinned. “Then I guess we’re walking. Jack invited me over for dinner.”

He found himself genuinely smiling now, the first real one in hours. “He did?”

“Yeah. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course.” The words came out too quick, too eager. Robby cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah. We should talk.”

A look passed between you and Robby found himself studying your face. Not just the bruising, but the faint lines at the corners of your eyes, the crooked smile twisting your lips, the way you always seemed to be ready for the next adventure.

You were the one that broke the silence. “You going to put me to work or do I just stand here looking pretty?”

Robby huffed a laugh. “You on the clock?”

“Technically, no. But I am an official employee of the hospital as of 0700, so consider it pro bono consulting,” you said.

“In that case, let me introduce you to everyone. Properly this time.”

“Sounds like a plan, Dr. Robinavitch.” Your voice was teasing and your gaze remained steady on his.

Something warm settled in Robby’s chest. He stepped back from the counter and gestured to the floor with a sweeping arm inviting you to follow. He moved the short distance to the cluster of nurses at one end of the hub. “This is most of our day shift support staff though I’m sure you already—”

“Yo, Kat, you really a doctor?” Mateo asked with a grin.

A muscle in Robby’s jaw twitched. “Dr. Sparks is our new attending and will be splitting her time between day and night shift.”

“Thank god,” Princess said. “Maybe now we can finish a report without someone coding in the hallway.”

Robby shook his head and sighed. “I’m sure you already know everyone but this is Donnie, Mateo, Perlah and Princess. Jesse is around here somewhere. Get back to work,” he instructed.

Perlah came up to you instead of going to a patient room. “Hey you remember that MVC you brought in last Thursday?”

“The one with the shattered leg?”

Perlah nodded and you two immediately fell into conversation. You spoke in the shorthand of people who’d worked the same case, referencing details and moments he hadn’t been a part of. It struck him then how much of your life he’d missed while you’d been circling his orbit. How many times had you been in the ED saving lives and building relationships while he’d been too focused on the work to see the person behind it?

You made your way around the department, stopping to speak with techs and the security guard along with a couple of the med students. Everyone greeted you as an old friend rather than a newcomer. Once you’d met everyone you could without ducking into patient rooms, you ended up back at the hub. Dana was sitting at the computer typing something.

When Robby picked up a tablet you piped up. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to the charge nurse, Dr. Robinavitch?”

Robby blinked. “No. No, I am not.”

Dana’s snort of laughter had you both smiling. “Smart man. I might steal her from you.”

“Too late, I’m afraid,” Robby said, voice lacking any heat.

Dana pushed her glasses up into her hair. “Hey, new girl, want to get some air? I need a smoke and you look like you could use a break from our domineering Chief Attending.”

“Yes, please,” you said. “Your name was Dana, right?”

Robby rolled his eyes. “You two are hilarious. Go. Find me when you get back,” he instructed.

***

Dana lit her cigarette the moment she’d stepped far enough away from the door. The bay was quiet for once. She exhaled a plume of smoke upward. “So, how’s it going?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and tapped your foot. “Interesting.”

“Interesting good or interesting bad?”

“Interesting like there are some major administrative failings at this hospital.” Your voice had lost its warmth, replaced by a clinical sharpness.

Dana wondered what you had encountered this morning to already see what the rest of them did. She huffed a humorless laugh. “You don’t say” She took another drag. “Where do you want me to start? Chronic understaffing? Shit pay? Security issues?”

“All of the above,” you said, watching an ambulance turn into the lot, lights off, no rush.

“We’re down eight nurses and at least two attendings even taking you into consideration. Turnovers high because Gloria won’t approve the budget for competitive wages so we keep losing people to Presby and UPMC. Meanwhile, we have boarding issues because they don’t have the beds upstairs but we have entire floors not being used because we don’t have the staff.”

You nodded, listening with the focus of someone filing away every detail.

Dana continued. “Wait times can be upward of ten hours on bad days. Patient satisfaction scores are in the toilet. Gloria blames Robby, says he needs to manage flow better, whatever the hell that means.”

“It’s not a flow issue if you’re parking beds in the ED. That’s a systemic issue,” you said.

“Try telling her that.” Dana flicked her ash onto the pavement. “She’s got the board convinced its because the staff is lazy rather than there not being enough of us.”

You looked at her then to the building behind her. “How long has this been going on?”

“Three years give or take. Getting worse every year. But in the last six months we’ve lost three attendings and six nurses and that’s just in the Pitt. Jack and Robby are holding it together with duct tape and pure spite.”

Your face hardened, eyes narrowing. “And nobody’s done anything?”

Dana shrugged. “What can we do? Strike? In this economy?”

You were quiet for a long moment while Dana finished her cigarette. Then with a suddenness that startled Dana, you straightened up. “I’ll be back. I need to see to some things.”

“What things?” Dana frowned.

“Things,” you repeated, already moving toward the door. “Tell Robby I’ll find him later, okay?”

Dana watched you disappear into the building, concern etching deeper lines into her forehead. There was something in your expression she recognized. It was the face of someone about to do something either very brave or very stupid. Maybe both.

She stubbed out her cigarette and sighed. She sure as helped you didn’t get yourself fired on your first day. Your soulmates would never let Dana hear the end of it.

Chapter Text

Dana Evans tapped her fingers on the edge of the desk, eyes narrowing as you slipped through the double doors at the far end of the ED. You had a legal pad and were scribbling furiously with a pen as you walked. You were definitely up to something. She just wished she could figure out what. You moved like you’d worked there for years, not hours, always knowing exactly which paths to take and which to avoid. You were making yourself suspiciously at home for someone that had just signed their paperwork that morning.

She watched your movements over the top of her glasses. “You see that?” she asked as Robby stepped up to the counter beside her.

Robby followed her gaze, brow furrowing. “What the hell is she doing?”

“No idea.” Dana shook her head slowly once. “It’s the third time I’ve seen her loop through here. Sticking her head in doorways. Taking notes. She doesn’t stop to talk to anyone. Just walks through like she’s memorizing the place.”

They watched as you opened the door to the medication room, glanced inside then continued toward the back hallway. Your steps were almost leisurely, but your eyes never stopped moving and you never stopped making notes.

“Maybe she’s just getting her bearings,” Robby offered, but his voice was heavy with doubt.

Dana snorted. “Please. If that’s all she was doing, she would have stopped by now. She’s looking for something.”

You disappeared around the corner.

“Maybe she’s avoiding something.” Robby tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably.

“She’s not avoiding you, Robby. This is something else.” Her frowned deepened and a line appeared between her brows. “She’s been up those back stairs more times today than you have in a week.”

A gurney clattered past, drawing their attention. Once they registered the patient was on the way to radiology. They shifted their focus back to the enigma that was you.

“Look,” Dana said, sounding surprised. She pointed with her chin toward the elevator. “How did she get over there? We only looked away for a minute.”

You were standing near the elevators, notepad tucked under your arm. You caught Dana’s eye and lifted your hand in an easy wave before ducking inside the car with the gurney.

Robby swore under his breath with a light chuckle. “She’s like a damn ghost drifting in and out.” He shook his head and left to do patient rounds.

When he made it back to the hub, it was clear his mind was still on his soulmate. “What do you think she’s up to?”

Dana shook her head. “Trouble. Or maybe she’s gathering ammunition.”

Robby’s eyebrows shot up. “Against who?”

Before Dana could answer, her attention was caught by a commotion near the trauma rooms. Frank was demonstrating something to the junior staff and Robby went over to supervise.

And there you were, materializing at Robby’s elbow as if you’d been there all along. Dana couldn’t hear the exchange but she did see Robby startle at your sudden appearance. His face did that thing it always did when he was irritated but trying to be professional. A tight smile that never reached his eyes, the muscle in his jaw flexing.

As the two of you stepped away from the trauma bay, Robby looked down at you. “Where did you disappear to?” Irritation threaded his words.

You shrugged, the picture of innocence except for the knowing light in your eyes. “Just had some stuff to see to.”

“Stuff,” Robby repeated flatly. “In my hospital.”

“Well, I mean it’s not really your hospital. You don’t own it,” you corrected, voice mild. “And if you’re saying it’s yours because you work here then that would make it our hospital.”

Dana suppressed a smile. You were certainly going to give Jack and Robby a run for their money and she was going to enjoy every bit of it. The residents looked like they were watching a tennis match, heads swiveling from you to Robby and back again.

He studied you for a long moment his expression unreadable. Then he seemed to make a decision and turned back to the residents with a brisk nod. “Langdon, find me when you’re finished.”

Frank’s gaze shifted from Robby to you, where it lingered with undisguised curiosity. “Sure, Robby.” He nodded once and turned back to the patient.

Whatever game you were playing, Dana had to admit you were good at it. She just hoped Robby knew what he was getting into personally and professionally. Dana had seen enough trouble stirred up in this hospital to know you were just getting started.

***

Robby guided you to the triage board, hyper aware of your presence at his side. He was surprised you didn’t disappear on him again. The board loomed before you, divided into neat columns. Name, complaint, location, wait time. Too many of those times were edging past the six-hour mark, a fact that gnawed at him every time he glanced at the screen.

You studied the board, your eyes scanning over the color-coded entries. “So, they handle what they can in triage and send the other stuff back here?”

Robby nodded. “Yeah. Stitches, basic illnesses can all be handled there for the most part.” He gestured in the direction of the triage rooms. “Usually have a resident or two and a nurse assigned there.”

“ENPs?”

“We don’t have any,” Robby said shaking his head. God, he’d give a kidney for even one nurse practitioner to take over triage.

You hummed and he had no idea what it was supposed to mean. You frowned at the board and tilted your head. “Why are your wait times so long?”

Robby’s shoulders stiffened immediately. He’d fought this battle with administration, with Gloria, with the board. It always ended in an argument about resources and efficiency. The implication that it was somehow his failing, his mismanagement, never failed to get him heated. He did not need this shit from you, too.

“We’re chronically understaffed,” he said, the words clipped. “And—”

You placed a hand on his arm, your touch light but firm enough to interrupt his building tirade. “That’s not what I meant.”

He glanced down at your hand, then at your face, surprised by the contact and the earnestness in your expression.

“I meant that this is a trauma center,” you explained, your voice low enough the passing staff couldn’t overhear. “Why are people coming here for basic care? Why are they not informed when they arrive of the wait and given other options for care? There are how many hospitals, urgent care and family care centers in this city? Why aren’t they being rerouted?”

The tension in Robby’s shoulders eased as he realized you weren’t criticizing him but identifying the core issue he’d been fighting for years. “Because they show up in our lobby and we can’t legally turn them away once they’re here. And because the system is broken.”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “People don’t know where to go. The uninsured come here because they know we’ll treat them. Half the time, patients don’t even know what constitutes an emergency.”

“This should be addressed before they’re even registered as a patient.”

Robby huffed out a long breath. “I have this argument with Gloria frequently. She thinks we should just process them faster, as if we’re deliberately being slow.”

“And how are you supposed to do that with only two triage rooms and no staff?” Your gaze narrowed and something dangerous flashed in your eyes. A calculation was being made. Then it was gone, replaced by a thoughtful nod.

“I have noticed less of that shit coming here by rig though,” Robby added. The ambulance arrivals had shifted over the past few months. They were getting fewer case that should have gone to urgent care, more genuine emergencies.

You nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of your mouth. “Yeah, they did a bit of restructuring. No more dumping at the nearest facility unless it was emergent. Patients were being routed to the appropriate ED. Trauma centers don’t get ear aches and dehydration.”

Robby stared at you and the pieces clicked into place. “That was you.”

You shrugged but didn’t deny it. “I may have made some suggestions. They liked them and implemented what they could.”

“Thank fuck for that.” He didn’t bother to hide his relief. “It’s made a difference.”

“Glad to hear it. But there’s a lot more that could be done.”

He studied your profile, appreciating the strategic mind of his soulmate. You weren’t just a skilled doctor, you saw the systems beneath it. The flow of healthcare through the city. It’s successes and more importantly, the failures.

“Like what?” he asked curious.

“Oh, I have a list,” you said with a glint in your eye that he found both exhilarating and terrifying. “But it’s nothing you can do. It has to come from the top.”

Robby shook his head with a bitter smile. “Gloria won’t listen to any of it. Even if she did hire you, you’re new. She won’t listen to me and I’m the Chief Attending.”

The corner of your mouth curled into a smile. “Oh, Gloria didn’t hire me. I’ve never met her.”

He blinked once. Twice. “Excuse me?”

“Never met her,” you repeated.

“That was not the part I was referring to and you know it. What do you mean Gloria didn’t hire you?” he asked.

You simply grinned, showing all your teeth.

He shook his head and pointed at you. “Nope. That’s not going to work. Gloria is literally the only one with the authority to hire you to work in the ED without consulting me.”

“I was recommended to the board. They hired me.” You said it so casually as if that wasn’t the most insane thing he’d ever heard. That…that just wasn’t done. Who the fuck were you?

He almost asked the question out loud before he caught Langdon approaching from the corner of his eye. His face was set in that familiar neutral expression that Robby recognized as Frank’s professional mask. The one he wore when he was reading a situation trying to determine how to act.

“What’s up?” he asked. His gaze flicked between Robby and you, lingering on the latter.

Robby straightened. “I want to officially introduce you to our new floating attending even though you already know her. Dr. Katrina Sparks meet Dr. Frank Langdon, one of our R3s.”

Frank stared at you, his eyebrows rising slightly. “Weren’t you an EMT two days ago?”

The question was tinged with enough disbelief to have Robby feeling defensive on your behalf. Before he could respond, you nodded solemnly.

“I was. Got bored and decided to become an attending. How hard could it be?” You shrugged and Robby resisted the urge to facepalm.

Frank just stared at you.

You flashed a grin. “Just kidding, Langdon. I’m fully certified and everything. Took a break post-pandemic.”

He processed this information. “Ah,” he said with a nod. “Welcome, I guess.” Without another word, he turned and walked away.

Robby frowned as he watched the other man retreat. That wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. It was, in fact, the coldest reception he’d seen you receive all day. “Well, that went well,” he muttered more to himself than you.

“He’s worried I took his spot,” you said as you leaned against the counter.

He turned to you, surprised. “What?”

“He’s probably expecting to be considered for an attending position when he finishes his residency. He knows you guys haven’t been hiring and I show up and take what he’s afraid is the only position.”

Robby’s eyes widened as he realized you were probably right. “Shit.” He hadn’t even considered that. Frank had been dropping hints about wanting to stay at PTMC after graduation even asking about the hiring process and mentioning how much he’d learned here.

You shrugged. “It’ll be fine. He’ll get over it. Besides, if he’s good there’ll be a spot for him.”

He studied your face, struck by your confidence. “You sure about that?” he asked. “Gloria’s been cutting positions, not adding them.”

“Gloria doesn’t make all the decisions,” you replied, a hint of something flickering across your face.

Before he could press you on your cryptic comment, Dana announced an incoming trauma. He glanced at you. “You up for it, Dr. Sparks?”

“Always.”

***

It was nearing handoff and Robby was leaning against the hub updating a chart, half-listening to Dana talk to one of the nurses about upcoming plans. He glanced up when the bay doors opened and spotted the EMT you’d talked to the other night—Stewart, Robby thought his name was—walk through the doors.

Stewart was imposing for lack of a better word. Tall and solid with a build that suggested frequent trips to the gym. His blond hair, blue eyes and easy smile had more than one nurse giving him a second glance. Unlike most EMTs that entered the Pitt, he moved with an easy gait, running his gaze over the department as he went. He wasn’t here on a call. There was no gurney, no equipment bag. He carried only a dark backpack slung over one shoulder, his free hand shoved into his pocket.

When he spotted you moving in his direction, a wide grin split his face. Robby watched over the top of his glasses, chart in his hand still awaiting his signature. “Pretty,” you called in greeting as you reached Stewart and he wrapped you in a hug, lifting you off your feet. You shoved at his shoulder. “Put me down, you brute.”

Stewart laughed and set you on your feet before handing you the backpack. The conversation continued for another moment, too low for Robby to hear. He forced his attention back to the chart, signing off with more force than necessary. It wasn’t his business who you spent your time with outside of the hospital. Your bond didn’t immediately grant him access to the rest of your life.

He couldn’t help glancing up again as Stewart prepared to leave. He glanced at his watch, nodded at whatever you were saying then backed away with a casual wave. Robby watched him go, then deliberately put his attention back on the tablet in his hands.

“Busy?” you asked sliding up beside him.

“Never not busy,” he replied and glanced up with what he hoped was a neutral expression. “What’s that?” he asked gesturing to the bag.

“I asked Rick to bring me some clothes so I could change at your place,” you said with a shrug.

Robby’s brow furrowed as he processed that information. “Did you leave a bag in the rig or something?”

“Nah. He’s my roommate.”

And oh, Robby didn’t like that at all.