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The lucky ones had a name.
Hello I’m John Smith or Good morning my name is Jane Doe.
Obviously with real names, but that was the gist of it.
You had a title.
Hello I’m doctor—
Em dash and all.
Not the most romantic of soulmate words. And where it was, in rough cursive, arching over your collar bone made it something that greeted you every day in the mirror.
You tended to keep it covered. Not because you were ashamed or embarrassed, but because people would ask questions. Especially why you didn’t go into medicine. Not that going into medicine would have been a guarantee of meeting them. After all there were approximately 137 million doctors in the world.
You’d thought about it though. Even dabbled in a bio major for one ill fated semester of college in your freshman year. But you didn’t have the brain for it. Or the passion.
And you had seen what happened to people who tried to force a meeting with their soulmate, had heard the cautionary tales. People who had tried to throw themselves into situations again and again that they thought would spur someone to say the words written on their skin by fate. And when their search dragged on or it wasn’t successful, it was always sad. People would start so hopeful and then get beaten down after tailoring their whole life around one potential relationship. And there were people who were left hanging for years or decades; or people who thought they heard the words, but actually didn’t, and ended up trying to chase someone who wasn’t their match. Words were not always a guarantee. Fate was tricky that way.
So instead you went into finance. No one’s life depended on you updating a spreadsheet. Your hands were never bloody as you typed up a late night email about a change in market conditions.
Your other set of words kissed your hip and wrapped around your side
How are you feeling?
The handwriting was different. Less legible, all rough caps.
Both sets of words had been on your skin since birth, meaning they were both older than you.
Through the years you’d wondered about them. What were they doing. How were they feeling.
How are you feeling had once faded slightly when you were in high school, going an ashy grey that had made your heart stutter and the blood rush from your head, after a few days the color had returned to a solid black.
Two sets of words were uncommon but not unheard of. You’d once met a young woman who had 5 sets of words, and there was a People Magazine story about another with eight sets. And words on your skin didn’t always mean a romantic connection. Sometimes it was a deep platonic bond.
You’d built your life into something you loved, even as you waited somewhat impatiently to meet your match. You had so many friends and a couple of temporary lovers. Your life was rich and full. But your heart still held a place in it for How are you feeling and Hello, I’m doctor—
At 35, it had been a nearly irresistible urge to try to throw yourself in the path of fate. Even after you’d ruled out medicine as a profession you’d thought about volunteering at a hospital or just going to hang out at a bar or coffee shop closest to the nearest hospital.
But you’d resisted. Fate, as previously implied, was a bitch. And you didn’t like to tempt her.
But sometimes she was generous too. In a back handed sort of way.
It hurts. Please.
The words had appeared the summer before high school when Robby was 14, like a kick in the teeth. He’d already been considering a career in medicine. But that had solidified it. His soulmate was hurt and he wanted to help.
It wasn’t until his rotation through emergency medicine as an R3 that he realized he may have fucked it up.
There were a lot of hurt people.
But it was too late for him. That rush of adrenaline of the first time a patient burst through the doors, pushed by EMS rattling off a series of abbreviations, a mix of numbers and letters that was like a new language he’d only just started to learn. The swarm of people, wanting to help and knowing how to. The work of a well oiled machine set on saving someone’s life. It made his heart pound but his hands steady and he was hooked.
After he got accepted in the emergency medicine residency program at Big Charity he did his best to put the words out of his mind, the ones over his ribs on his left side, close to his heart, in handwriting that looped and curled, half cursive half print, in a carefree happy looking way. It was weird to say but the writing did look happy. And after some shifts he’d put his hand over the words, feel the pulse of his heartbeat through his skin and pretend he could take some of that happiness for himself.
I’ll admit, not my best.
When they’d appeared one day in mid June when he was 12 he’d been hesitant.
After he’d been deployed for the first time Jack did his best never to think of his words.
War was unforgiving, even to soulmates. Especially to soulmates.
After all the words weren’t a promise. They were a possibility.
And Jack liked certainty. He liked order. It’s why he went into the army in the first place, the certainty of structure and knowing what came next. Why he’d chosen to go to medical school, getting the ticket comped by Uncle Sam and then going back into the field as repayment. Why he re upped until the Uncle Sam said that the leg they had gotten blown up in an IED explosion in a backwater of Afghanistan meant that he couldn’t serve anymore.
And the words weren’t certain. He’s read the studies. On average about 78.6% of people met their match. The remainder didn’t either because one partner died or the stars just didn’t align.
And just because you met your match didn’t mean you stayed together. He’d seen that too. His own parents, despite being a match, were awful for each other and to each other and when his mom had finally left after his first tour, he’d sent her a bouquet and a thank you note. He’d also seen Dear John Letters to men and women fighting for god knows what in the unforgiving desert thousands of miles away from home. And then once he got home and into some support groups, he’d seen the aftermath of war tear soulmates apart. War changed a person. Sometimes irrevocably.
Ten years out, when he got the position as attending at the Pitt he made the decision to start thinking about who she could be again. And he knew it was she, the loopy semi-cursive that went across his chest just over his heart was distinctly female.
He made the decision that if they met, he wanted her to meet the best version of the tatters that war and his loss had left of him. So he did his best to suture up the pieces into the best man he could be. He got into regular therapy, built a healthy-ish sleep schedule (if you counted falling asleep after a night shift to the police scanner as white noise as healthy) and built community. He kept going to support groups, he volunteered some of the limited spare time he had, and he made friends.
He and Robby were often put on opposite shifts, even from the beginning, but more so as the years passed. But years of patient hand offs, occasionally overlapping shifts began to build something. Something solidified by beers after work, shitty pizza after a shift, or sitting in silence and sharing a bottle of whiskey after the really rough ones. He and Robby became battle buddies, best friends, and then brothers.
Jack still remembered the first time he’d seen the familiar loopy hand writing on the ribs of his brother. He’d jerked back, dropping the scrub top in his hands. Robby hadn’t noticed Jack’s shock, and Jack did his best to shake it off. Handwriting could look similar. But the thought, the familiarity of it lingered in the back of his mind for weeks. A couple months later he’d purposefully held a conversation with Robby in the locker room with his shirt off. He felt a little silly for it, but the way Robby’s eyes had widened and his eyebrows shot up when he’d caught sight of the words over Jack’s heart was confirmation.
“So—“ Robby started and then stopped making an abbreviated jerking gesture from Jack’s chest to his own left side.
Jack let a small smile ghost over his face. “Yeah. I saw that. Could be.”
“You haven’t met her? Him?” Robby’s right arm curled around his torso, hand going to his left ribs, by his heart.
“Her I think, looking at handwriting?” Jack said gesturing to his chest. “And, no. I haven’t.”
Robby nodded and leaned in closer, peering at Jack’s chest. “They’re the same though, right? Aren’t they?”
“I think. But it’s handwriting. Who knows.” Jack shrugged.
Robby gave a tight lipped smile but there was something like hope in his eyes. “I guess we’ll see.” He said, leaning back.
“We will brother.” Jack said with a firm nod.
They hadn’t talked about it since then. Other than a couple of dark nights over the years.
One had been after a shift they’d shared. One of the worst. This was a couple years before COVID. Adamson was out on vacation so it had been Robby in charge of the ER. Not for the first time, but it was still something fresh and new and Jack could tell when the shift began that Robby was on edge.
It was a dark icy night in February. There’d been a multi vehicle crash on the highway. A serious one. They’d gotten four cars worth of the most seriously wounded. A truck driver with full thickness burns on his legs and chest after his truck caught fire as a result of the crash. There was an older man who had been DOA and his wife with a broken hip who hadn’t woken up yet. A pair of teenagers who’d been on their way back from a date. Both young men were on the varsity soccer team and one had even gotten a scholarship to play in college in the fall. A scholarship he wouldn’t be able to use because he’d had to have his leg amputated due to the crush injuries. His date had a massive head injury and while they’d stabilized him, it was unclear what his outcome would be. And then a single woman who had some cuts and scrapes and a concussion that they weren’t that concerned about, and of all of the victims was the least injured. But she’s been hysterical and then catatonic. Her car had caused the crash. It wasn’t negligence, it wasn’t impaired driving, it wasn’t a medical condition. It was poor lighting, black ice, and bad luck. She’s been going under the speed limit and still this was the outcome. Lives changed. Dead dreams.
They’d ended their shift in silence, blood scrubbed from their hands but somehow still on their skin. They’d gone together wordlessly to Robby’s, which was closer and had a spare room with blackout curtains which Jack had crashed in more than once. More than a dozen times.
They’d dropped their bags and coats by the door, grabbed beers out of the fridge and collapsed on the sofa. Jack took off his leg and sunk back into the over stuffed leather couch, his beer resting on his thigh and leaving a ring of condensation on his pants.
Robby had his head tilted back, resting on the back of the sofa, eyes closed. His left had loosely held his beer but his right wrapped around himself giving himself a sort of hug, his right hand resting over where Jack knew her words were etched into his brother’s skin.
They just sat there in silence. Watching as the sun fully crested and sparkled off of the snow and ice that still coated the trees and the buildings around Robby’s.
“I don’t know how to keep doing this” Jack had finally said, closing his eyes against the glare of the sunshine.
There was a beat and the. Robby sighed deeply
“Yeah.” Robby said.
They sat in silence again. Jack brought the beer up to his lips and took a deep pull.
“She’s what? 31?” Robby asked, his hand coming up to rub at his eyes and his brow creasing.
Jack did some quick mental math.
And nodded, “Yeah.”
They had exchanged details. The words appeared when your soulmate was born. They’d both gotten them the exact same day in June, 31 years ago. With the handwriting and the birthday, it seemed more likely than not that they shared a soulmate, a fact both had accepted with ease and gratitude.
There was more silence as they both killed their first beer. Robby stood up, grabbing the empties on his way back to the kitchen to grab another round.
He handed the cold bottle to Jack and sat back down.
“Do you think she’ll understand?” Robby asked, his head tilted back, eyes on the ceiling.
Jack had wondered that too. He’d wondered it when he was hunched over, covered in sweat, elbow deep in an 18 year old kid who had dodged when he should have ducked. He’d wondered if as he lay in a hospital bed in Germany attached to too many machines, the sheet flat over where his leg should have been. He’d wondered that as he sobbed in the shower after a night of nightmares and memories of shrapnel and trying to stop bleeding that never seemed to end. He’d wondered that on this night and on a hundred nights like this one.
He gave Robby the same answer he had given himself over the years.
“We can hope.”
Robby nodded and shifted, elbows going to knees and head bending down as if in supplication or prayer.
“What if she comes in on one of those gurneys?” Robby said it quietly, like he didn’t want to speak it into the world. Didn’t want to tempt fate with that possibility.
It was something Jack had thought of too. Especially once he started at the Pitt. And even more so when he learned that he and Robby more likely than not shared a soulmate.
“Then we’ll save her.” He said it immediately and definitively. There was no other option. They were both in their 40s now and had waited so long. He couldn’t believe that it would all be in vain.
Neither of them had waited alone. They had friends. There were lovers floated in and out, some lasting longer than others.
“What if we can’t?” Robby said, still in a near whisper.
Jack’s eyes closed and he reached his free hand to grasp Robby’s shoulder with a firm grip, as if he was trying to keep his brother from floating away. Trying to keep himself grounded.
It felt like there was gravel in his throat that caught on the words as he attempted to force them out.
“Then we’ll try.”
Your day had started out as normal. Out of your apartment by 9am, catching the almost full bus that stopped right outside your building, and making its way to your offices downtown.
You’d asked for a transfer from the New York office to Pittsburgh right before COVID and you couldn’t have been happier with your choice. It was a city with a heart but without the frantic pace of New York. Plus your apartment here was much nicer and much bigger than the shoe box you’d lived in on the Upper West Side. Your family in Chicago had wanted you to come home, but you didn’t, couldn’t. Despite being born and raised in the Midwest, you were now an east coast girl in your heart.
As always, you didn’t have a seat on the nearly full bus, standing uncomfortably close to the other morning commuters. You stood in the aisle, angled so you faced the front and could see the street signs as they passed outside of the windows. There was a mother and baby seated right next to where you stood and you smiled down at the baby and then at the mother. The baby was in an adorable rubber duck themed onesie and was strapped to his mother’s chest.
“Cute baby,” you said and she smiled and nodded in agreement, giving the baby a little bounce as he laughed and gurgled.
You commuted by bus despite the fact that you had a car now, a new purchase on your flight from New York. But for your daily commute you still retained a New Yorker’s preference for public transportation.
You regretted your choice today.
It was worse when you see it coming. That was your thought as you saw the grey car running the red light going way too fast on the crowded city streets.
The crash of metal on metal and breaking glass drowned out your morning podcast and the impact threw you, knocking you so hard so that the headphones flew out of your ears and it felt like you were momentarily weightless and flying.
Your head hit a metal pole hard enough to make your ears ring and your left leg lit up with agony. The screams and cries of the other passengers hurt and the morning light was suddenly too bright.
Weren’t you supposed to pass out from head trauma? That’s what you saw in all those medical procedural shows you’d watch when you couldn’t sleep. The episode would open with a horrible accident and then there would be a fade to black ahead of the opening credits and the case of the week would begin with the patient being wheeled into the ER by suspiciously hot paramedics.
But you didn’t pass out. Instead you stayed fully conscious as the impact of a hard bus seat knocked the wind from you followed by the hit of another body against yours as your moment of weightlessness ended with a crash and the bus rocked violently. There was a second of silence. Just a half a heart beat’s worth as the bus teetered and then fell on its side, tossing you once more into a stranger and jarring your injured leg. And then the screaming and moaning started.
Well fuck.
Your head swam and your leg burned with the most intense pain you’d ever felt. You bit down on the inside of your cheek to stop from screaming and adding to the cacophony of pain. You tasted blood.
Were there people severely injured? What about that mother and child you’d been standing next to, was that baby okay? How severe were your injuries? Was the bus going to catch on fire? Was there going to be a second collision?
You wanted to look around but then had a flash of an episode of tv and the phrase internal decapitation. So only moving your eyes, you glanced around. It was a jumble of limbs and bags and broken glass. You were sort of on top of someone who was not moving but still breathing and there was someone’s elbow pressing into your side.
You wriggled your fingers and toes, at least the ones in your uninjured foot. Your peripheral vision caught the movement of your hands and the change in pressure of your toes in your shoes reassured you that you hadn’t been paralyzed. Probably.
You shifted your head just slightly, there was no pain in your neck, but your head did throb once in protest. Now that you thought about it for half a second you didn’t think your skull had separated from your spine, but what did you know.
Approaching sirens made you sigh in relief. Help. There were people coming to help.
People in the bus began moving, you shifted a little and saw a couple people crawling towards the busted windshield or the hauling themselves up and out of broken windows or the bus doors which had burst open on impact, opening to blue sky.
That was a good sign, that there were people who were uninjured enough to walk away.
The shrill cry of a baby distracted you, it was coming from just to your right, where the elbow was pressing into you.
“Ma’am?” You spoke loudly over the sirens and the human suffering, reaching down to give the mother who had been in the seat next to you a little shake. You twisted just a little so you could get a better look at her. There was blood on her head and you could see a sparkle of glass in her hair. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her son who was wailing, but looked okay. But again, what did you know, injuries could be internal. Hopefully you hadn’t hit him or his mother as you were thrown about.
The mother groaned in pain but blinked her eyes open, eyelashes sticking together from the blood. Were you also bleeding? Maybe from the leg that was screaming in pain. You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to look at it yet. If you kept not looking then you didn’t have to deal with it. Though given your pain level you had to think it was at least broken, if not worse.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” You asked, your voice surprisingly strong.
As soon as you asked it you knew it was a stupid question. She had a head injury at the very least. She was obviously not okay.
“I don’t know, my baby?” Her voice rose with panic, her hands tightening around the bundle strapped to her chest and lifting her head to try to crane down and see him.
“Stay still. You’re hurt. He looks okay,” you said quick to try to reassure her. “The paramedics are here, they’re going to get us out.” You spoke with confidence even though you could feel your own panic beating against your ribs.
It was true though. Help was here. You could hear the crunch of their boots on the broken glass outside and shouted orders and questions to those stumbling out of the bus.
Someone appeared above your head, leaning in to the bus through the broken window above your head. His movements jarred some broken glass free and you flinched away as it hit your face.
“Shit sorry” the paramedics said just as about a dozen people around you started yelling for help.
“There’s a woman and a baby here, they’re injured, they need help” you did your best to project your voice over the others. That baby needed to get out of here and looked at. The rest of you were adults. The baby should be the first priority.
The paramedic’s eye caught yours and he nodded in acknowledgment.
“We have an infant here, him and his mother first” he said turning to shout over his shoulder.
You heaved a sigh of relief. The movement shot pain through your whole body and the wince that followed only exacerbated the pain.
“Thank you” the woman sobbed, her body shaking with her sobs. She grabbed your hand, the one closest to you and squeezed. It hurt or you thought it hurt, but the pain in your leg drowned most other sensations out.
The paramedic drew back from the broken window and he reappeared, lowering himself into the ruins of the bus through the open doors, landing gingerly on his feet and avoiding landing on anyone. Another paramedic followed shortly behind him, stopping by a woman groaning in pain and seemingly covered in blood.
“Where’s the baby?” He yelled.
You lifted your hand, the one the woman was not grasping on for dear life. And lifted it and waved it.
“Here! Over here!” You shouted, hoping you’d be heard over the chaos.
“Got it!” The paramedic picked his way through the debris and around other victims and ended up crouched by the mother.
He was asking her questions, where she was hurt, how she was feeling, but you couldn’t focus, the pain, the noise, the grasp of the mothers hand still clinging to yours. You just focused on breathing in and out.
You heard another round of sirens go closer. Good. That was good. More help was needed. There were at least a dozen people who hadn’t been able to walk out of the bus. And even those who you saw walk out some still had injuries as well.
The paramedic unstrapped the baby from the mother and carried him out, promising the mother he’d be back for her in just a minute.
Her sobs increased in volume as they took her baby away.
“They’re taking him to get help.” You tried to reassure her. “They’re going to come right back for you.”
Sure enough a minute later the paramedic returned, this time followed by five others who split off and began tending to the injured.
Two paramedics beelined to you and the woman, one of them holding something that looked like a back board. In perfect unison they shifted your companion so that she was on the contraption. She didn’t let go of your hand until the last possible second as they whisked her away.
The sounds of suffering greatly diminished as other injured were taken to what you hoped were waiting ambulances.
You were going to be forgotten. Your heart rate increased and you heard the whoosh of your pulse in your years as you struggled to fight down panic. You knew you tended to catastrophize and the tendency seemed to rear its head at the most inconvenient times. Like during actual emergencies.
You knew you weren’t being forgotten. That was silly. But the deep breathing technique wasn’t working anymore.
What felt like too long, but was probably a couple of minutes at most a new paramedic crouched down next to you. It was a woman, younger than you were if you had to guess but her hands were steady and her voice calm and reassuring as she spoke to you.
“Hi I’m Sherry, What’s your name and age?”
You gave your name and age, your voice not quite as steady as it had been when you were comforting the new mother.
“Where does it hurt?” Sherry asked, setting down her bag where you sincerely hoped she was storing morphine or some other potent pain killer.
“My leg,” you said, gesturing to your injured leg. “But I also hit my head and had the wind knocked out of me. But my leg really, really hurts.” The last word came out as a whimper.
“Alright, let me take a quick look, we will stabilize that leg, and then we’ll get you out of here.”
Sherry looked over her shoulder and gestured at another paramedic who was trotting up behind her, carrying another one of those back board things.
“What have we got?”
“Woman, reports injured leg, possible concussion and potentially some abdominal injuries, says the crash knocked the wind from her.”
Sherry touched your leg and you screamed. Fuck that was painful.
“Okay, it looks like your lower leg may be broken, but it doesn’t look too bad. Like I said, we’ll stabilize and get you out of here.” Her tone was matter of fact, and you did your best to latch onto her calm.
“When you say not too bad do you mean there‘s not part of my bone jutting out of my leg?” You asked through gritted teeth, pain still radiating from the slight jostle Sherry had given your leg.
Sherry let out a humorless laugh “No, no bones piercing your skin, but I can tell it broken. Now we need to stabilize it and it’s going to hurt.”
“Just do it.” Your teeth ground against each other, jaw clenched tightly in anticipation of pain.
And boy did the pain come. The pain was so bad your vision whited out. You were sure the paramedics were talking but you couldn’t hear them through the agony that had taken over your senses. You didn’t think you passed out because you felt it all as Sherry and her partner secured your leg in some sort of red contraption and then maneuvered you into the back board and then out of the wreck of the bus.
When you came to your senses and began to be able to process your surroundings you were on a gurney, there was an IV in your arm and there was something that had taken the edge off, but just barely.
Your eyes opened and you relaxed your jaw which ached from how much you’d been gritting your teeth.
“Hey, we are close to the ER” Sherry reassured you, patting your hand. “The bus crashed not too far from PTMC. Plus the less critical were already taken to Presby, so it shouldn’t be too much of a madhouse.”
“Lucky” you said, your voice hoarse from the screaming you just have done as they extricated you from the crash.
“That’s one way to put it” said Sherry’s partner from the drivers seat of the ambulance.
“So we are almost there.” Sherry said as the ambulance came to a stop. “It’s going to get very chaotic, very fast. There’s going to be a lot of people all around you all at once.”
You were still processing the warning as the ambulance doors were flung open.
Your brief respite from pain was over as you were jostled from the movement of the gurney out of the ambulance.
You burst through the ER doors and as Sherry promised, were instantly swarmed.
“35 year old female, in the bus accident. Suspected closed lower leg break, reports hitting her head and abdomen in the crash” Sherry rattled off a further series of numbers or words that you maybe sort of recognized from your brief obsession with watching Grey’s Anatomy but given the pain and the chaos you were not able to follow them.
You were still being pushed along on the gurney as a bright light in you face made you flinch.
“Pupils normal and reactive” a pretty woman with excellent bangs said as she leaned over you, pen light in hand.
“Hi there, I’m Dr. McKay, do you know where you are?” She asked as you were wheeled into what you assumed was a trauma room.
“I think Sherry said PTMC?” Your voice was uncertain but you tried to project at least a little to be heard over the rest of the chaos.
“Okay we’re ready to move her.“ Said another voice somewhere by your head.
Before you could brace yourself someone said “One, two, three.” And you were lifted from the gurney and that bright white pain shot through you again. There was a sharp scream that took a second to register as yours.
“Sorry about that.” she said through a grimace. “Yes, that’s right, you’re in PTMC’s ER. Do you have any allergies to medication?”
“No, not that I know of.” You managed out through gritted teeth.
A thought suddenly occurred to you. “Did a mom and a baby come in? They were next to me on the bus. Are they okay?”
Dr. McKay gave you a tight smile as she began her examination.
“Yes, they came in a little bit before you got here. They’re both fine.”
You thought the baby seemed fine, but you’d been worried. Relief made the pain temporarily, just for a moment, dissipate. Right before it came roaring back.
“Whittaker,” Dr. McKay said, directing her gaze at a mousey looking young man in the room, “can you get the portable x-ray in here and get someone from ortho in here?”
The young man nodded and picked up a landline and began speaking rapidly into it.
You blinked hard and then shifted in shock causing even more pain as you felt your clothes being cut off your body. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you desperately tried to remind yourself that these people were all medical professionals and must see dozens of naked people every day. It was just like when you ent to the OBGYN or when you’d get waxed. Or at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. But the full body blush didn’t stop.
“What do we have?” The man walking into the room directed the question to Whittaker. The new man was handsome, fuck it, he was hot. Even through your haze of pain the attraction registered as you met his warm but professional brown eyes. He was older, but the years suited him and he wore them comfortably.
With practiced ease Dr. McKay began her presentation, giving your name and age, listing some numbers for blood pressure and heart rate, all while squirting gel on your abdomen and using some sort of wand on you, peering at a portable monitor. It was uncomfortable pressing into your skin but you could only assume it was medically necessary.
“She was in the bus accident. Reports head, leg and abdominal injuries. No blood in the belly, heart and lungs look good. Suspected concussion, we have to get her to CT, and a suspected broken leg.”
Dr. McKay then began rattling off even more stats but your eyes were glued to him even amid all the chaos as he nodded, snapping on a pair of gloves, leaning down to speak to you and—
“Hello, I’m doctor—“
The young man Dr. McKay had called Whitaker grasped your leg, it cut sharp and bright through you and you gasped with pain, instinctively reaching a hand to clutch at his wrist. His skin was warm.
“It hurts. Please.” You directed it at the handsome doctor, the one with the scruff and the sad eyes, your voice more of a whimper than words. You let his wrist go, almost as quickly as you had grabbed it.
His eyes widened perceptibly and he glanced down your body, his gaze stuttering over the words in your ribs and then honing in on your now exposed collar bone. He stepped closer to you and the warmth of his hand, felt even through the latex of the glove, covered the words there.
His sharp inhale was ragged.
“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay” His voice was deep and jagged with emotion. You felt the soft feather of his thumb as it brushed over your words even through the haze of pain.
His eyes could only be described as soulful, the creases around them made him look compassionate and smart and the smile lines, though smooth now with concern, made you think he was kind.
“Can we get some pain relief here?” He asked sharply, not breaking your gaze.
Dr. McKay paused for just a fraction of a second with surprise and rattled off some numbers, which you hoped meant you’d be getting the good stuff and a lot of it and the handsome man nodded, not looking away from you.
“I’m Robby. Michael.” He said, wonder lacing his voice, his other hand going to yours and giving it a squeeze.
You were not at your sharpest given the pain and what you hoped were opioids beginning to pulse through your bloodstream. But then it registered. How he was looking at you. Where his hand was. What he had said.
“Oh.” You said it quietly but the man. Robby. Michael. He caught your meaning and he smiled, face creasing with what you hoped was joy.
“Yeah.” he said, his smile growing wider.
“Oh.” And despite the pain, you smiled too.
“Boss?” Someone behind Michael asked, you thought it might be McKay.
“Perlah, go get Abbot.” Robby said, not looking away from your face.
You registered a figure in a hijab and scrubs stepping out of the room, but just barely. Your entire focus was on the man next to you, the one holding your hand. It was indescribable, a sudden lightness and full body chills. The pain receded and it was as if you were able to take a full breath for the first time in your entire life. There was still something that niggled at you but you basked in his nearness, in his unwavering focus.
“We’ve got the portable x-ray machine.” Someone announced, rolling the contraption through the trauma bay doors.
The healthcare workers hustled in a practiced dance setting up the machine, Robby staying by your side the whole time until it was time to take the pictures. Thankfully someone threw a sheet over your torso. So you were no longer lying there totally exposed.
Someone lifted your leg and you gasped again with pain, hand tightening around Robby’s involuntary, crushing his fingers you were sure.
“Just a minute. Just a minute. I know it hurts sweetheart. But it will be just a minute.” Robby leaned down and muttered low and into your ear, his reassurance only for you.
Someone slid a hard slate under your injured leg and set it back down, but you kept your death grip on Robby’s hand.
Robby looked up and one of his team gave him a sharp nod which he returned with a jerk of his head before looking back down at you. He took his hand away from your collar bone, gently brushing his hand from your forehead to cup your cheek.
“I’m going to step away for just a second.” His voice was low and intimate.
“Okay.” You whispered back, a small smile tucked into the corners of your mouth.
He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead and stepped back from your bedside. His kiss lingered on your skin and it felt as if you were floating. You felt the loss of the heat of his body immediately. The loss of him.
As Robby stepped away you caught sight of the others in the room. Dr. McKay was looking at Robby wide-eyed, her lips parted in shock. Whittaker was grinning, his eyes darting between you and Robby.
The woman Robby had called Perlah was back in the room, standing by the trauma bay doors, a surprised but pleased grin plastered to her features as she turned to address Robby.
“Dr. Abbot says he’ll be in soon, he’s just finishing up with another patient. He also asked why a broken leg needs two attendings.”
Robby rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperated affection.
The x-ray tech consulted with Dr. McKay and Robby as he adjusted the very sophisticated looking machine that you hoped was secure and wouldn’t fall on your already injured body.
Both doctors and the kid named Whittaker gathered behind the screen, ready to view the images.
The tech took the x-rays just as a new man walked into the trauma bay. He was also hot. Where did they get these doctors? Maybe Grey’s Anatomy was more true to life if this is what the healthcare practitioners looked like. He was more grey than Robby, his curls a lovely mix of silver and dark caramel. He held himself like a soldier, but his hard expression was belied by a slight tilt of his lips and kind eyes.
Robby grinned at the newcomer, arm going around him and clapping him in the back. The new man gave Robby a confused look before shifting his gaze to Dr. McKay and nodding.
“Whittaker?” Prompted Dr. McKay.
“Looks like two transverse breaks, one to the tibia and one to the fibula.” Whittaker said, pointing to something on the screen.
Dr. McKay nodded confirmation. “Ortho will need to take a look but I think they should be able to just put in a cast and it won’t need surgery.”
Something that looked like relief caused Robby’s shoulders to relax just a little.
“So why do you need two attendings for a broken leg?” You heard the new man ask Robby, his tone dry and joking. He was sharper than Robby, there was something of a sharp edge to his smile. “Have all of you forgotten how to put on a splint?”
Robby let out a short laugh and gestured for the man to approach you, giving your name and a basic outline of your medical stats.
“This is Jack Abbot.” Robby said to you by way of introduction, a pleased grin on his lips.
“How are you feeling?” Jack Abbot asked, eyes down, not looking at you as someone shoved an iPad into his hands for him to review.
A shock jolted through you and your own smile began to grow and you locked eyes with Robby, whose smile had grown. You then looked back at Jack.
“I’ll admit, not my best.” You said with a bit of a chuckle.
Jack startled, almost dropping the iPad, a reaction you’d bet was rare for this man who seemed so battle hardened.
His eyes, more hazel than Robby’s brown ones, flew up from the iPad to meet your gaze, he looked at you with something close to wonder.
He shoved the iPad into the waiting hands of someone in scrubs and made a beeline to you. His hand followed the same path Robby’s had ghosting over your forehead and cupping your cheek tenderly.
“Fuck.”
“Very eloquent.” Robby teased as he approached from your other side.
“What else, Whittaker, what else happened?” Jack bit out, his gaze still laser focused on you.
“She still needs to go to CT, but initial examination reveals some abdominal bruising and maybe a mild concussion.” Whittaker replied, his smile only having grown.
“Are you sure?” There was an edge to Jack’s voice and you brought up your hand to where his still rested on your cheek and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Like Whittaker said, she still needs to go to CT, but all vitals are strong and there was no sign of internal bleeding on the ultrasound.” Dr. McKay responded, speaking deliberately, eyes ping-ponging between you, Jack, and Robby, a shocked smile growing on her face.
“They’ve given me the good stuff.” You said with a soft smile to Jack.
Robby grabbed your free hand. He’d removed his gloves and for the first time you felt his skin on yours. Both of your soulmates were touching you. You felt like you were flying, like you were falling, your stomach swooping. Unclear if these feelings were coming from the two men on either side of you or the good drugs pumping through your system.
“So I have a broken leg?” You asked, returning his smile though another jolt of pain as you leg was moved again to get rid of the slate underneath it made you wince and suck in a sharp breath.
Robby—Michael squeezed your hand again and lifted it to press a kiss on to your knuckles as Jack shot a glare to the tech who had caused you pain.
“Yes. You broke the two lower bones in your legs, you’ll need a cast. We are also sending you to CT to get an image of your head and abdomen to see if you have a concussion or internal injuries since you hit your head and stomach in the accident.” Said Robby. His voice was low and comforting and you let you mind wander for a second as to how that voice might sound when you were all in bed.
“Okay, that doesn’t sound too bad.” You said with a slight nod.
“No, you’ll be fine.” The relief in Jack’s voice was clear.
“CT is free now and waiting for her.” Someone from the trauma bay doors said.
The two men looked at each other and some unspoken communication passed between the two of them and Jack nodded once.
“Jack is going to go up with you.” Robby said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll probably be here for a while. Is there anyone you want us to call?”
“My mom and dad. They’re in my phone as emergency contacts.” Gosh your Mom and Dad were going to get a one-two punch. In the hospital and found both soulmates.
“Are they local?” Jack asked.
“No,” You shook your head just a fraction. “Chicago.”
“Is there anyone local we should call?” Robby asked.
“Um, yeah. My friend Danielle. She’s my local emergency contact. I can call? Where’s my phone?”
“The EMTs brought your purse in.” Jack said, gesturing to a bag on a counter in the trauma bay that you were grateful to recognize.
“So.” You started and then stopped, gaze flicking between the two very handsome men.
Robby let out a breathless laugh and ran his hand through his hair.
“Yeah,” he said with a frazzled grin.
Jack sighed as he placed your bag in your hands and you reached in, grabbing your phone.
“What Robby here means to say is that we are so happy to meet you.” Jack said, his lips twisted in amusement.
You grinned at Jack and then at Robby.
“Me too.”
Being discharged from the hospital was somehow the longest part of the entire process.
The nurse went over again the timing of your various prescriptions and the date of your follow up appointment.
After you’d been seen by ortho and officially cleared from needing surgery you’d been given a temporary cast and an appointment time to come back a couple days later for a fiberglass cast. They’d assured you that you would get to pick a fun color.
You wondered how you would shower with the cast. Maybe some sort of plastic bag contraption? The portable shower chair that was leaning against the wall near the bed would definitely help too. You wondered how much insurance would cover that and if you should just rush order one off of Amazon instead.
You glanced down at the multiple pamphlets and printouts in your hand.
It also felt like it was taking forever probably in part because both Robby and Jack had been forced to step away.
Jack had followed you up to CT, being a comforting, if a little quiet, reassuring presence at your side.
After the CT, you’d been wheeled back to the ED where you and Jack were greeted by Robby whose worried pinched look smoothed into relief when he caught sight of you both. Jack gave Robby a nod that must have communicated something reassuring because Robby’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
Then Jack had kissed your forehead which made you tingle all over in a way that made the blood rush to your face.
Then for the next few hours Jack and Robby had been in and out of your room while they tended to their duties and the ED gradually emptied out.
You called your boss and she’d been horrified to hear what had happened. She’d told you to take all the time off you needed and to let her know if she or the office could help your recovery in anyway.
You’d then called your parents and your sibling to update them. Just on the broken leg though, not on the soulmate thing. You needed more than a couple hours when you were on opioids to process that news before sharing that.
Your parents initially said they were flying out on the next flight. But there was going to be a day delay because of storms in the Chicago area so they decided to drive out instead. You’d been grateful for their care but reassured them that you’d be fine until they got here.
Though in the back of your mind a small doubt took root. You thought that Robby and Jack would take care of you for the day or so it would take your parents to get here. But you hadn’t confirmed with them. And you weren’t sure what them taking care of you would look like. You lived in a walk up so getting in there would be difficult to impossible without help. Maybe they’d invite you to stay with them? But you didn’t want to make any assumptions. So you’d started looking at accessible hotel rooms where you could stay at least until you got a cast on.
Finally you called Danielle and filled her in on everything, holding the phone away from your ear after telling her the soulmate part as she yelled in surprise. Danielle agreed to use your spare key to go pack a bag for you to take to the hotel. Or maybe to take to Robby or Jack’s.
Around noon Robby and Jack had come in and ate lunch with you, smuggling the nicest looking apple after you mentioned they were your favorite fruit. Not only that, but Robby had ordered delivery for lunch, sparing you from the hospital food. You also got a second brownie from Jack when he came back a little after lunch.
You were almost never left alone, which was nice, as you could hardly believe that these two men were real. Sometimes they’d come in, check your chart and the machines you were hooked up to and then ask how you were feeling. They’d do this either while holding your hand, their thumb petting over the back of your hand, or while their palm cupped your cheek. Both actions sent shivers down your spine in a most pleasant way.
Other times one or the other would come in and sit with you for five or ten or fifteen minutes until they got called away by work. You used this opportunity to ask both men questions about themselves and about their lives and they did the same. In these brief snippets of conversation you’d learned that Jack was a vet, that Robby was allergic to penicillin, and that both of them loved sushi and Star Trek. They’d learned that you had two siblings, you loved scrapbooking, and that you also happened to love sushi and Star Trek.
Late in the afternoon both Robby and Jack had come into your room.
“You’re ready to be discharged but we’re going to be half an hour, maybe a little more” Jack said, coming to your side and grabbing hold of your hand.
“Shift change and handoffs.” Robby said, smoothing his hand over your brow.
You’d been helped into a hospital gown after the CT scan and the pain killers had been reduced slightly, which meant the swoop your stomach made at both Jack’s and Robby’s touch was all them.
Jack squeezed the hand he was holding.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can.” Jack assured you and then he and Robby had stepped out.
Maybe twenty minutes later a nurse had come in to give you discharge instructions, which she was winding up now.
“Do you have an my questions?” She asked.
You shook your head. “No I think you addressed all of my questions. Thank you.”
“Great, well if something comes up you can call the number on your discharge sheet.”
“Or she could just ask one of us” Robby said with a smile as he reentered the room.
The nurse returned the smile and nodded in greeting at the two doctors who both thanked her, before making herself scarce.
“We finished hand off.” Robby stepped closer to you casting a worried look over your form. The nurse had helped you change into sweats and a PTMC tee shirt that was too big for you. When you’d asked she said that Jack had left the clothes for you so you had to assume they were his.
“Are you ready to go?” Robby asked.
You nodded holding up the fistful of discharge papers. “Yes, I got all my marching orders.”
“Great,” Jack smiled at your small joke. “Robby is going to go pick up your prescriptions and then come to get you and I’ll pull my truck around.”
That little niggling thought of doubt froze in its place.
“Are you taking me to my place? I was thinking of getting an accessible hotel room?” You said, looking from Robby to Jack.
Jack scoffed and Robby frowned deeply. Both moved close to you, one on either side, each taking one of your hands.
“No need sweetheart.” Jack said, shaking his head and loving your left hand to press a kiss into your palm. The gesture made butterflies take off and your thighs clench involuntarily. “I know you said that you lived in a walk up. Robby lives in an apartment with an elevator about ten minutes from the hospital and I have a ranch house about thirty minutes away. We both have several spare rooms. We were going to take you to mine just because there is more space and the hallways are wider so navigating with a wheelchair will be easier, but we can take you to Robby’s no problem if you want to be closer.”
“But if you don’t want to stay with us, you don’t have to.” Robby broke in, brows knit together, squeezing your hand in reassurance. The grooves between his brows told you this wasn’t an infrequent expression for him.
“Oh, no, I don’t mind, I mean, I’d like to stay with you. But I didn’t want to assume, I know some people take it slow–” you looked between Robby and Jack as you spoke.
“Assume away.” Jack said, his lips tilting up into a grin that you couldn’t help return.
Robby nodded in agreement. “We’ve been waiting a long time for you. I know I speak for both of us when I say we’d like you to be close, especially after today.”
A rush of something effervescent, relief or joy or acceptance washed over you and you smiled widely at both men.
“I’ve been waiting too.” You replied.