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Jack kept waiting for the guilt to come, for it to creep in and settle in his bones, but it didn’t, or if it did, Jack didn’t notice. It had been suspiciously easy in the grand scheme of things to take what he wanted, what he had longed for in the long years since he lost his leg and the loss of his wife. He hadn’t expected it to happen, dreaming of it only in secret, moaning Frank’s name in the dark as he envisioned the tall, bright-eyed intern.
Robby had claimed his first, taken Frank under his wing and out of Jack’s grasp, and Jack knew it was for the best. Someone like that was too good, too sweet for the night shift attending. Frank was too pure. The pureness dulled and dimmed over the years, but never truly faded, and Jack found that neither did his hunger. Jack watched silently as Robby placed expectation after expectation on Frank’s shoulders, and how Frank did his best to shoulder it all, to live up to Robby’s unreasonable expectations.
Frank failed.
Jack was the first and only to visit Frank in rehab, watching as Frank shook with the last vestiges of withdrawal, sickly pale and dotted with cold sweat, trying to keep his leg from shaking. Jack hated every second of it, of seeing his boy broken and in pain, but he had to learn. There were some lessons, Jack knew, only pain could teach, as he sat in silence with Frank, needing to see him, to check on him with his own eyes. He didn’t tell Robby; Robby didn’t deserve to know.
Jack watched with a low sense of satisfaction as Robby began to replace Frank with Whitaker, the boy wide-eyed and anxious for anything Robby would give him. Jack knew it was only a matter of time before it would come crashing down. Dennis would learn he could never be what Robby needed, and Robby would learn Dennis would never be Frank, but Robby had rejected Frank, shunned him, abandoning him when he was needed most.
Now it was Jack’s turn to take care of Frank, and unlike Robby, Jack would never be so careless. Frank was too precious to let go of. Frank was made to be his.
It was odd the way Frank reminded him of Mari. He looked nothing like his dead wife, no obvious reminders, but he did all the same, and Jack would find himself conflating his memories of Mari and his fantasies of Frank.
Abby was already there when Jack showed up for his visit, and Jack felt a swell of jealousy at the reminder of her existence, her place in his life.
“Abby?”
It took her a second to recognise him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She was makeup-free and still gorgeous, and Jack hated the tall, rubenesque woman just a little more for it. He had been surprised when he had first met Abby, expecting someone petite and skinny, only to be introduced by a beaming Frank to a woman an inch or two taller than himself, with a soft figure and curves that made Jack’s fingers twitch with the urge to feel. Abby, at least physically, was more like Mari than Frank would ever be, and yet it was Frank he dreamed of.
“Jack Abbot, I’m a doctor at-”
“Yeah, I remember.” Abby cut off, swaying slightly, and Jack’s hand was on her back, guiding her to a chair in the lobby without a second thought.
“Hey, now, lets get you sitting down.” She sat without complaint, and she gave a small sniff.
“I’m sorry.”
Jack shook his head, keeping his voice soft and calm. “Nothing to feel sorry for. This is a lot. Just take a second, take a breath for me. Can you do that?”
She nods, and they sit there for the next half hour. Frank refuses to see him, and Jack doesn’t take it personally. Frank refuses to see him for three weeks, and the hurt turns into worry. Jack is running out of ideas when he runs into Abby again, overwhelmed and struggling at the grocery store. Tanner was shouting loudly about something, where he stood in the shopping cart, mostly babbling in unintelligible and excited toddler talk, and Penny was crying in her car seat, where it was secure in the specially designed shopping cart.
“Hey, Abby.”
The look of shame warred with relief at seeing Jack. “Doctor Abbot.”
“Jack.” He corrected gently, “Need a hand?”
“I can’t ask you to-”
“Hey, I’m offering, okay?” She gives a nod, and he finds himself holding Tanner, talking to the little boy in a firm and gentle voice, captivating his attention, Frank’s blue eyes transfixed on Jack, wide and sparkling. He’s heavy in Jack’s arms, and he doesn’t want to let him go. He’s so much like Frank, and it makes his heart clench with want and sadness.
He and Mari had talked about having a family, had dreamed about little feet running through the halls, and sticky hands and bright giggles. Before Jack lost his leg, and the cancer took her from him.
He didn’t visit Frank again the following week, changing tactics, finding himself at the Langdon’s house helping Abby out with some minor home repairs Frank never got around to. Tanner had followed the man around like a little shadow, and he was surprised at the magnitude of his visceral reaction to holding Penny. She was still so tiny, fragile in his weathered and calloused hands, looking up at him, quiet and trusting. She has Frank’s eyes and his dark hair, but he can see, even now, she was going to end up looking so much like Abby. Her nose, her mouth, the little mole under her eye. It physically hurt him to let her go.
“I hate to ask you this, Abby, but have you heard from Frank at all?”
She shook her head, and he felt his stomach drop, his mind spinning a million miles an hour. “...I was advised not to contact him directly,” Jack sits up at the words, “I served him the divorce papers…”
Jack doesn’t say anything to that; everything slips into place, the withdrawal, the silence. He knows Frank messed up, he knows what he did was dangerous and stupid, putting everything at risk, but all he wanted to do was hold him close.
The next time Jack goes to visit Frank, the taller man is already waiting for him, nervously chewing on his thumbnail as he does. He looks sick, pale and skinny, and Jack can see the missing pieces that will be put back during his recovery, crooked and wrong. Frank looks almost bashful, and Jack represses a coo.
“I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing out of Frank’s mouth, jumbled and rushed, and Jack can feel the torrent of regret coming. It was something the younger man needed to get off his chest, but all that comes out is four little broken words.
“Jack, I’m so sorry,” and then he breaks.
The sobs are large and ugly and make his whole body shake and shudder, and Jack is wrapping his arms around him, holding him tight, trying not to relish in the weight and heat of him, his boy, safe and solid in his arms.
He runs his hand up and down Frank’s back while Frank continues to cling to him. “Sssh, it’s okay, baby.” The words are out before he can stop them, but he doesn’t try to hold them back, feeling Frank sag against him, “I have you now, I’ll take care of you. I’ve got you, baby.”
Frank soaks his t-shirt and sags against him, trusting Jack fully to support him, and Jack can’t get enough, will never get enough of Frank.
It’s two weeks later when the idea starts to come to Jack. He’s once again at Abby’s, on his day off, keeping the children entertained so she can get some work done. He would like to say he’s helping out of the goodness of his heart, but he knows that’s nowhere close to the truth. He doesn’t care about Abby, not really. She’s close to Frank, a part of Frank that Jack would never be part of, and he’s fine with that.
Tanner and Penny, however, are different. The same visceral reaction is there as he holds Penny, as he plays with Tanner, changing diapers, washing Tanner’s messy face after a meal, and calming Penny when she’s too tired and crying, fighting sleep. They are so much like Frank, in so many little ways, Tanner physically his near-perfect copy, minus his hair, which was slightly lighter, slightly redder, with large curls, reminding Jack so much of his own, despite knowing Tanner’s hair came from Abby, and Jack had no part of it. It catches him by surprise, how easy it would be to take what he wanted. To find where to push, to press against the weakest parts of Abby until she breaks, to cement his part in Frank’s life, for his kids to grow up knowing no other life but one where Jack is there.
It’s a thought that takes root and doesn’t leave. Frank is in rehab for three months, and Jack is there waiting when he gets out, wrapping him in a long hug, and Frank breaks apart against him once more. Jack just holds him, once again sweet words pouring past his lips, and Frank subconsciously drinks them all in, submitting to the older man without thought.
“Get in the truck, sweetheart, we have a four-hour ride ahead of us.”
Frank sleeps for most of it, and Jack is grateful for it. He sees how weak Frank is, how lost and unsure, and he knows he needs his rest. He takes Frank back to his house, knowing that Abby would reluctantly let Frank back into their house, into the spare room in the basement, but Jack refused to risk it, the thought of even the slightest reconnection making him burn with jealousy.
He tucks an exhausted Frank into the spare room next to his and relishes the fact that Frank had showered using his shampoo and conditioner, so that he smelled like Jack. Frank keeps him regularly updated while Jack’s at work, and puts in the work. It’s hard, and it’s ugly, and Jack handles the ugly and mean days with stoic quiet calm, Frank coming to him after, soft and repentant with his sincere apologies.
Frank, in his core, wants nothing more than to be good for Jack. It’s slow progress, breaking the beautiful, clever man down, and building him back up. He still goes to Abby’s once or twice a week, watching her unravel just a little bit more under the stress. He doesn’t hold her as she breaks down, while trying to feed Penny her bottle, unable to bring herself to nurse her, and all the signs Jack had missed, all the symptoms click into place.
Abby has postpartum depression, untreated postpartum depression.
He brings it up, and she blows up, yelling and defensive, and every protective instinct Jack has kicks in, and the decision is made for him, the claim settling in his bones, heavy and absolute.
Those are his children now, his babies, and he will do anything to keep them safe.
Abby doesn’t apologise, too prideful and full of angry shame, and Jack doesn’t want her to. She asks him to stay, not comfortable with leaving the kids alone with Frank, not yet. Jack doesn’t think about it, saying yes without hesitation.
Frank doesn’t seem to notice when he reaches out aand nd snags Jack’s hand resting on the console of the truck in nervous excitement, the moment they turn into the subdivision and the street where Frank used to live. Every nerve in Jack’s body comes alive at the contact, and he lets Frank squeeze his hand, squeezing it back. He watches as Frank practically jumps out of the truck before Jack can fully park it and is rushing up the walk to be greeted halfway by Tanner, the toddler yelling “Daddy” at full volume, and Frank is picking him up and holding him close, and Jack can feel his hunger grow even as he melts at the sight.
Frank cries when he holds Penny, the infant, not recognising Frank, and he knows how much it breaks Frank’s heart. The man gives Jack a sad and watery smile of thanks when he takes Penny from Frank, soothing her, with a familiar hum, getting a coo from her. They spend the day in a domestic bubble, the four of them, and Frank is quiet and withdrawn on the way home.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, kid?” Jack finally asks when they are both on the sofa, Frank fiddling with a small car Tanner gave him to keep safe, and he forgot to give it back.
“I miss them.” Frank finally answers. “I miss them so much it feels like I’m being ripped in half. I miss Abby, but I feel so fucking guilty I don’t miss her more, and I’m just tired.”
Jack hums. “Anything I can do?”
Frank opens his mouth to answer, but shuts it, and Jack desperately needs to know the answer. “Hey, whatever it is, just get it out there, man.”
Those blue eyes stare right into Jack’s core when Frank finally looks at him, a small blush on his cheeks. “Can I sleep with you tonight? I’m so tired of waking up alone.”
Jack pretends to think about it. “Sure, sweetheart, but just sleep.”
“Just sleep.”
Frank feels like heave pressed against Jack, boneless, soft, and trusting Jack to keep him safe. He snuggles into Jack’s side with a possessive hold, even in his sleep, nose brushing against his chest, giving a spoiled little sigh when he finds the position he wants. Jack moves Frank into his room the next day while Frank is at therapy and then an NA meeting. He refuses to sleep without Frank again.
Jack continues to quietly push Abby towards the edge, to involve himself in their lives, gaslighting her slowly but surely, as she sinks further into the depression. She refuses to get out of bed, refuses to take care of Tanner and Penny, and Jack makes his final push. He pulls her close, holding her, telling her that she needs help, serious help, that she’s a danger to the children.
He’s careful, so careful, not letting Frank know of his involvement in her worsening mental health as Frank helps her check into an inpatient program, while Jack brings Tanner and Penny home. Finally, his family are where they belong. The divorce is finalised, and Jack waits for the guilt to come as he suggests they sue for full custody. Abby is still too broken to put up a fight, relinquishing custody with a slip of paper, never needing to go to court.
By the time Robby is back from his sabbatical, every single part of Frank has been claimed, leaving nothing left for the man who once threw him away. Jack sees the moment Robby notices there is something between Jack and Frank, and without missing a beat, Jack pulls Frank into a heated kiss in the dim street lights of the parking garage. Frank moans, pressing up against Jack, the kiss turning heated and needy.
Jack’s tongue doens’t ask permission as it bullies past the seam of Frank’s lips, his hand finding the swell of Frank’s ass, pulling him closer, while Frank sinks into the kiss. He pulls back with a soft “behave” that makes Frank shudder, and he can see Robby standing frozen in place over Frank’s shoulder.
Frank is a vision as he rides Jack that night, his pale skin gleaming with every slow roll of his hips, begging Jack for more, begging to be filled, begging for another baby, begging Jack to mark him, claim him, for Jack to give him everything.
Jack does exactly that cumming impossibly deep inside his sweet boy, claiming him from the inside out, claiming everything he has to give, unwilling to let go.
Tanner starts to call Jack, daddy, within the span of a few short months, and Penny learns to sit up on her own and is starting to crawl, when Frank gives him a piece of paper with a lab result that makes Jack’s heart stop, and his eyes go wide, standing up quickly with one crutch and pulling Frank into a deep, possessive kiss with one hand.
By the time Robby and Dennis start to fall apart, Frank is in his second trimester and wearing Jack’s ring. Jack doesn’t miss the jealous glares Robby gives them, or the way his hands will clench when Jack reaches out and runs a hand over the obvious swell of Frank’s stomach, Jack’s claim on Robby’s former resident primal and unmistakable. Frank continues to swell and grow, and so does Jack’s hunger.
Abby tries to win back majority custody, but Jack has fully imprinted on Jack, and Tanner and Penny no longer fully recognise Abby. She’s granted one weekend a month, with them, until they are at an older age and have a better understanding of things. Once again, Jack pushes just the right cracks until she calls them, barely into her second weekend with them, crying, telling them she’s scared of being alone with them.
Jack smirks in dark satisfaction as Frank waddles up to her door, heavy and round, Jack not far behind him, to pick up their children and bring them back where they belong. Frank is in his third trimester, heavy, swollen, full term at 40 weeks, and uncomfortable in the summer heat, shirt off, tits leaking, with Penny naturally starting to wean herself off as she gets closer and closer to one, when he goes into labour.
Jack doesn’t leave his side, once, except to use the bathroom, for the entire fourteen hours Frank is in labour. Jack officially becomes a father for a third time, to a little girl, with Frank’s blue eyes and Jack’s nose.
The guild never does come.