Archive of Our Own

Pittsburgh in May is always more alive than the last. It is the season when the last frost melts, giving way for the flora to be in full bloom. You love this city and everything it offers, and springtime in Pittsburgh has usually brought about different surprises into your life. 

It was spring when you first met Jack.

It was spring when you passed your board certification and got the surgical attending coat.

It was that same spring, after your dinner celebration, when you and Jack finally got the awkward “What are we?” conversation out of the way. Sitting by the rooftop bar overlooking the Pittsburgh skyline, you officially became a couple. 

It was spring when you moved into your new cozy place you both call home.

And, it was one spring morning when you both made the vow of a lifetime. 

Spring has always been your blooming season, your reminder that the freezing cold always sees its ending and that life always finds its way.

Jack deserved a Medal of Honour, truly. 

Not only for his service to the country and to the community, but most importantly as your doting partner. 

Being the great competitive husband that he is, Jack booked a trip to Hawaii because you said you missed the fresh Poke Bowls you had during your honeymoon. You appreciated how intentional and thorough he was with everything, from planning your itinerary, booking your flight and accommodation, and even securing reservations to the many activities and restaurants the two of you tried while you were there. The only thing he sought help from you, however, was all the packing that the trip required. You learned early on that it was his bugbear. You did not mind it, though. You made the most of the freedom he always gave when deciding on his outfit and might have slipped in some of his old luau shirts into the mix. This was afterall, a perfect chance to flaunt your own silverfox.

That wedding anniversary trip was a much needed retreat for the two of you from the long hospital days you and Jack rendered the past couple of months.  

You loved every moment of it. 

You visited some of the places you’ve been to during your honeymoon, Jack surprised you with a helicopter tour around the Big Island, followed by a simple dinner and stargazing in the Maunakea Observatory, which was the highlight of your trip.

You hadn’t seen that many stars before. They were like glitters dusting a black canvas, tiny specks flickering in different angles. You could not take your eyes away from it. 

The night sky, illuminated by the moon suspended above you and the shimmering lights from millions of years away, reminded you of just how ineffable the universe is and just how tiny of a cell you are.

An epiphany, it was, that in the boundlessness of the universe, you still met Jack. 

Or, in the way you’ve always seen it, Jack found you.

So as he looped an arm around your waist, you encircled your arms around his shoulder and drew him for a kiss which he reciprocated with the same gentle passion.

You thanked the universe for that moment, and for every other moment you get to spend with your husband. 

You thank the heavens for the life of Jack Abbot and the life you have because of him.

After a week in paradise, reality hit.

You were back home in Pittsburgh, digging your chilly body against your husband’s warmth as you relished the last day of vacation before coming back to work that night.  His fingers splayed on your back, pulling you flushed against his skin and eliminating any sliver of space between you. You groaned in delight but continued to nuzzle against his neck, only for him to pepper  you with kisses until your eyes finally cracked open. The sun was already hanging low, painting the skies and casting an amber glow inside your room, as if signalling the nightcrawlers to rise and get some. 

And so, you both did. As always.

—

It was not long after the handovers when trauma started coming in, requiring both you and Jack to stabilize a victim of a vehicular accident.

Crus Henderson conducted FAST and used his experience of musculoskeletal ultrasound to diagnose the level of fracture, which was confirmed with x-ray shortly after. “We have an open book fracture. His pelvis is basically crushed so he’s hemorrhaging."

“Start the MTP and we’ll need to control this bleeder or else he'll continue to crash.” Jack hushed, laser focused on the BP and sats of the patient. “Mateo, call ortho and get extra units of whole blood.”

“He’s still tachy. We can try a REBOA, I’ll check for a possible entry point.” You instructed, using the ultrasound to check for the right pathway to the femoral artery and then used your fingers to check for the strongest pulse. “Somebody get me the kit and page IR.”

“Viable?” Jack asked you, helping you prepare the kit.

“Yes, 18-gauge, please.” Jack handed it over to you and watched your every move, ready to assist. You pierced the patient’s groin with the thick access needle, then Jack threaded in the guidewire as you made an incision in the entry point for the introducer and the REBOA catheter. There was a moment of silence apart from the beeping of the telemetry machines, with you and Jack communicating just by looking  at each other’s eyes. 

Working as one unit, you inserted the REBOA catheter and stopped at the right depth while Jack readied the syringe for the saline infusion.

“We are in. Inflating now!” You confirmed and steadied the catheter. With urgency, Jack pushed the saline through the occlusion balloon tube.

“Balloon up. Start the clock. Cycle the BP.” Jack called out, eyes moving into the monitor as you held the REBOA catheter securely against the patient’s thigh. 

“Running at 7:28.” Mateo confirmed, recording it into the system. 

“BP’s getting better.” Jack stated as he checked for the pulse manually and through the cardiac monitor. There was a faint gasp of air from the patient, confirming that the REBOA was working as intended.

You let out a sigh of relief. ”This buys him half an hour. Only half an hour.” 

“We are on the clock,” Jack mumbled in a sing-song tone.

“Give 2-0 silk to Dr. Henderson.” The senior resident quickly approached you with the suture kit from the nurse, and you instructed him on where he needed to clamp and stitch the clamp in place.

“Any movement would risk the placement, make sure it’s secured.”

Crus nodded and started with the suture as you continued to hold it in place.

“Dr. L/N, we have Dr. Park on speaker,” The nurse put the handset down and the beeping of the speaker phone made you grumble under your breath. Jack gave you a teasing grin, knowing how annoyed you usually were with the surgeon.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” The abrasive orthopaedic surgeon spoke through the line.

The nickname made Jack’s head tilt in disbelief, raising a brown and crossing his arms against his chest. 

“Open book, left pelvis. Profuse internal bleeding so we started MTP and deployed Zone 3 REBOA. BP’s stable. IR’s aware.”

“Fine, I’ll be there in 30.”

You shook your head in frustration. 

“The patient only has…” You paused to check your watch. “...24minutes before he starts crashing again. We are taking him up to IR, you argue with them there.”

“He’s holding up. Crus, babysit him as you take him to IR. Eyes on that REBOA or you’ll feel the wrath of the Witch here.” Jack stated in an as-a-matter-of-fact matter, pointing at you.

“Yeah, I’ll start with your attending, Dr. Henderson."

“Oh, I’m soooo scared, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes and gagged.

Crus and the nurses laughed, already used to your banters having been living witnesses of it every shift. They enjoyed it, in fact. It made the work feel lighter despite how crazy the cases could be. 

“Ready for transport.” Crus confirmed and Jack gave the go signal. 

As the team departed leaving you and Jack alone, he assisted you in removing your sterile gown and you did the same for him. 

“Have you imagined undressing me before, Dr. L/N? It’s like you’re used to it.” He teased.

“Oh, please. You know I am an expert.” You whispered, an intentional seduction lacing your voice. “I can do it even in the dark.”

“Shall we test it in the on-call room, then?” 

A sly smirk tugged the corners of his lips, already leaning in. 

Before he could do so however, Lena barged into the room alerting him that another trauma had arrived.

He cursed under his breath and you chuckled.

“Not bad for a first save tonight, Dr. Abbot.” 

“Well, what can I say? We’re a dream duo, you and I.” He stole a quick peck on your cheek as he walked past you, already making his way onto the next trauma.

—

It was an hour past midnight when you received the confirmation from the IR that the patient was stable and that ortho was just finishing the surgery. It was a close save, they told you, but you did the REBOA quick enough to give the patient enough time.

As it was your first day back after your vacation, you did not have any planned surgery and OR time, allowing you to stay in The Pitt to action on any emergent surgical interventions needed, as you often do being the primary ED surgical attending.

Jack was in the middle of the body cavity of a stabbing victim who arrived via the EMS, guts out and bleeding.  inserted lap pads to control the bleeding. You ordered Ellis to page Dr. Walsh, needing another set of hands when nurse Vivi alerted you that another critical trauma was 2 minutes out.

“Assault victim. EMS said this one might need the OR ASAP. Dr. Shen’s in trauma, too.” The nurse added.

You and Jack exchanged glances, silently agreeing that the smartest move would be for you to go. 

“You got this?”

“Even in the dark.” He smirked, followed by a strong push of another lap pad. You only shook your head at his deliberate response.

“Dr. Ellis, hands here please.” You gestured towards the retractor in your hand, which Parker immediately took from you. “I’ll get the incoming.” 

“I’ll be right there.” Jack called out and Emery arrived just as you left, finally wheeling the patient up into the OR once he stabilized.

—

The wait in the ambulance bay was longer than you anticipated. It was eerily quiet and the breeze was colder for a spring night. The chill seeped through your bones, causing an unsettling feeling into your stomach. It was never that quiet in the area no matter the time, something was amiss.

Despite being a rational person, your intuition has never been wrong.

Shaking the feeling off with a stretch, you looked around for any signs of the EMS until the sirens shook you awake. You ran towards it and opened its door, with Bosco pulling out the gurney and explaining  their initial diagnosis.

“What do we have here?”

“John Doe. Multiple trauma, skull and rib fractures, absent lung sliding on the left. Assault victim, we alerted the police, we found him in an abandoned lot, dispatch said it was an anonymous caller.” As the medics wheeled the patient out of the ambulance you immediately conducted your checks. The patient was battered and bruised, his whole face was swollen and purple with contusions. 

“H-help m-me… They want me…” The man garbled in between bloody coughs.

“Woah, is that blood coming from his—” 

A loud revving of a motorcycle zooming in broke through mid-conversation, and then…

BANG!

BANG!

And then another. 

Your ears rang from the deafening noise and in a split second, you collapsed on the ground with a loud thud as if a puppet suddenly released from your strings. 

Everything went cold.

Only when you felt the excruciating pain searing through your left shoulder and chest did you realise what happened. 

You were shot. 

—

Muffled sounds filled your ears keeping you conscious—police sirens, medics calling out for help, hurried footsteps approaching. 

Everything was in slow-motion with your vision slowly blurring, like you were viewing whatever was unfolding through a fogged-up looking glass.

But you recognized the figure towering over you, tapping your face to keep you awake, and then yelling at someone. 

You had the faintest idea of what was happening around you.

The only thing keeping you from slipping completely was your husband.

“Stay with me, Y/N.” You heard your husband’s voice clearly, cutting through the noise and the screeching of the wheels against the floor.

“I l..lo—” You slurred, looking up at him and  willing every cell of your body to stay awake. You gasped heavily in an attempt to catch your breathing but it felt like drowning. Classic signs that your oxygen was tanking. And you knew it.

What followed, however, was fits of coughing and wheezing. The taste of iron coated your tongue as crimson blood oozed from your lips. It eased your breathing for a few moments before you started panting once again. 

You were quivering, cold, clammy hand grabbing Jack’s forearm for dear life.

He held it. 

Tight.

Reminding you that he would never let go.

The last thing you remember were the blinding lights, the doctors crowding you, and Jack. 

Your Jack.

Then, everything went pitch-black. 

The moment Jack heard the noise he recognised what it was. 

Gunshots. 

Ahmad called for everyone to stay down, but being an army veteran and a SWAT medic, Jack immediately followed where the sound came from. 

The ambulance bay. 

And you were there.

In a fit of adrenaline, his feet moved with an impossible speed that nobody was able to stop him. His goal was clear—ensure you were safe. 

“Dr. Abbot!” Lena exclaimed, trying to prevent him.

“Y/N’s there!”

Mateo and Shen ran after him, bumping into Bosco who was already running past the door to call for an assist, just in time for them to reach the bay. 

Jack’s heart pounded the second he did not see you right away. Everything stilled until John’s voice ripped through his consciousness. 

“Oh god, Y/N!” 

Jack’s world stopped. 

There you were, lying in your own pool of blood. Conscious, but only just.

Jack scrambled towards you, kneeling and completely ignoring the discomfort on his right limb as he shook you awake while the other medic pressed tightly on your chest wound. 

“Hey, hey… I’m here.” He hushed as he rested his hand on your head, blood completely drained from his face. 

“Keep your eyes open for me. Please.” 

“Get the fucking gurney, what the hell are you waiting for?!” He yelled, shaking Shen and Mateo. They transferred you into the gurney and wheeled you into the trauma room, with Bosco following with the assault victim. 

Jack was coaxing you awake throughout, and John who was still shaking started hooking you up with monitors. 

Parker burst into the room upon hearing from Mateo, getting trauma shears and cutting your scrubs open. Her hands trembled as she did so, quietly whispering, “You’re okay, you’re okay…”

“Page OR! Tell them it’s Y/N! And hang three units of blood.” Jack yelled as he looked at you, checking your pupils for any signs of head trauma as the deafening sounds of the monitor filled his head. 

“Don’t close your eyes, honey. Please. Just stay with us.” 

Jack’s head was loud, silently praying for all the gods to hear him. Begging them to spare you.

Not my wife, please. Not my wife.

Robby, who was napping in one of the ED rooms, woke up from the commotion.

“It’s Y/N.” Lena told him and the chief sprinted towards the room seeing Jack and the other surgeons who just arrived already working on you. 

“Sats are dropping! We need to intubate now. Ketamine and sux! ”

Jack was clearly in no right condition, his usual composed demeanor nowhere to be seen as he worked on you, shouting endless orders. 

Robby squeezed himself in, a gentle hand on Jack’s arm as he pulled him away, “Jack, let us do this brother.” 

“FUCK NO!”

“You can’t save her like this, Jack. You need to let us save her.” Robby’s voice was still controlled, but firmer, exercising authority over Jack considering the situation.

Jack paused. 

He looked at you once more and choked a sob, removing his gloves to caress the top of your head, feeling your warmth. He knew what he had to do. The best thing he could do for you was to step back and allow them to do their work. 

“We got her, Jack.” Emery reassured your visibly shaken husband as the head of cardiothoracics started taking charge of the next steps.

“I am staying in the room. Got it?” Your husband pressed on, chin raised in a fight for authority. “I am in the room.”

Robby patted his shoulder and nodded, leading him towards the wall, “Okay, brother. You can stay.”

— 

A few minutes later, Jack spoke. 

“Shen. Ellis. Take charge. We need assistance on the other traumas.” Jack ordered his team, albeit flatly. Both residents were hesitant, not wanting to leave, but also knowing that they needed to support Jack and the department this time. You were in the hands of great surgeons and people who care for you as well, after all.

Jack could not bear just standing there while you were fighting for your life. And while he also did not have the strength to leave, he knew he must do something. 

Stepping just outside the room where he could still monitor you, he called for and demanded updates from Lena, Ahmad, and the police officers who responded on scene. Ahmad shared all footage with the police and the officers mentioned that a team was already looking for potential leads.

“The other victim?”

“Dr. Miller is working on him.“ Lena stated, “He was taken straight to the OR.”

“We have officers manning so we can get statements as soon as the patient’s stable.”

Jack nodded, jaw tensed, eyes sharp. “How many officers are assigned to the case?”

“We can check it for you, doctor.” A young officer said. 

“Tell your superiors that Jack Abbot from the SWAT team needs reinforcements. Get them to deploy the whole Allegheny County police for all I care, just find the fucking suspect.” He said sharply, anger simmering even further.

“Lena, Shen and Parker will take charge for now.”

The charge nurse placed a hand on his forearm, “We got this, Dr. Abbot.”

From his periphery, he saw the surgeons preparing you for transport. He dismissed Ahmad, Lena, and the officers, reminding them to update him every hour. He accompanied you, pushing the gurney himself. His hand found yours in the elevator ride, adjusting his index and middle finger just so he could feel your pulse, an attempt to calm himself. He sucked his breath and whipped his head at you when he suddenly felt your fingers curling around his, no matter how weak your grip was.

“She’s in and out. It’s a good sign.“ Emery told him. “She’s fighting hard, Jack.”

He held your hands tighter.

—

Jack stayed by your side throughout your surgery. He stood inside the OR quietly as the surgeons worked on you, took it upon himself to dress you in a new gown post the surgery, and even volunteered to monitor you in the recovery room while they were processing the ICU transfer for your post-operative care. 

He was there for you as he promised, silent but with such commanding presence the whole time. 

By the break of dawn, you got transferred into your private room in the ICU, allowing Jack to have that much-needed respite after the chaotic night.

The silence in your room opened the floodgates. Jack succumbed to the heaviness in his chest that he was suppressing the whole time. He clasped your hand against his face as broken whimpers spilled from his trembling lips. Muffled cries filled the room as the overflow of emotions consumed him—anger, frustration, pain, and fear. He was terrified.

Jack did not think something would be even more painful and unimaginably worse than what he experienced on the battlefield. 

He survived a lot of battles, but that night as he watched you fighting for your life, he became certain that there was one thing he could never survive: losing you.

—

Jack was speaking to the Chief of Cardiothoracics and Emery when Robby entered the room just before the start of the day shift. 

The surgeons gave Jack updates on the treatment plan, current prognosis, and a copy of the operative records per Jack’s request. Jack shook the hands of the surgeons and thanked them. The chief of cardiothoracics patted Robby’s back and Emery gave the man a nod as they made their way out. 

“How’s she doing?” 

“She’s stable. The bullet got into her lung but did not do much damage.”  Jack explained, unable to take his eyes off you. “They’ll dial down her sedation in the afternoon and then, we wait for her to find her way back to us.”

“Well she’s a hell of a fighter, Jack.” Robby placed a hand on his friend’s back to console him..

“That, she is.” Jack heaved a sigh. “Hey, would you mind looking after her for a few minutes? I got a bunch of additional forms they need me to sign and I need to make a call to get updates on the case.”

“Of course. Do what you need to do.”

Jack pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering as if you could hear him, “I’ll be back, honey. I love you.”

You were no longer used to waking up cold and alone. 

And despite coming from a long, deep, dreamless sleep, you had never felt more depleted. 

Things did not make sense as your eyes adjusted to the light and surveyed the room. Your cozy chandelier fan was missing, your wooden bookshelf was gone, there was no sun peeking through your window, and the warmth of your husband was nowhere to be felt. What remained were plain walls, high ceiling, and relentless buzzing and beeping noise just above your head.

Slowly, your limbs started waking up as well. You were in pain, but not the familiar kind of soreness following your shenanigans with Jack, no. This type of pain was a deep-seated, throbbing ache that made itself comfortable under your skin. 

The fog in your brain started dissipating and it finally dawned on you that you were in a hospital. There were IV lines and monitors attached to your body, a nasal cannula resting in your nostrils, and a splint supporting your left side. 

Turning your head, your eyes landed on Jack who was by your side. He was fast asleep, head resting on a pillow with a hand on your forearm. He was facing you, as if he had been watching you the whole time until his body betrayed him. 

You reached out to him, brushing  your fingers through his greying auburn locks and admiring how peaceful he looked. He was breathing steadily, but having memorised every feature of his face, you easily noticed that his eyes were darker, puffier and his nose were redder than usual. Before you could even continue deducing, he stirred from his sleep.

“Aloha,” You croaked, grinning lopsidedly.

Like a splash of cold water on a hot day, relief flooded his whole being once he saw you awake. Hearing your voice after nearly three days was music to his ears, never minding how hoarse you sounded from the intubation.

“Took you long enough.” 

You rolled your still heavy eyes at him.

“Aloha, honey.”

Jack snickered through tears, cupping your face and pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead. 

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“You okay?” You asked, laying your palm over his chest, a gesture learned throughout the years.

Jack snorted, wiping his tears away. “Am I okay? I am not the one on the bed, am I?”

“Asshole.” You attempted to give him a playful shove only to wince as shooting pains radiated from your left side, making you groan. “Aw!” 

“Easy, honey.”

Jack steadied you by the bed and then adjusted it into 30 degrees for a more comfortable angle. He then added another pillow behind your back for a gentler cushioning. Holding a bottle of cold water with a plastic straw, he sat closer to you and lifted it towards your lips. Your first sip made you moan in delight, the cold water immediately quenching your parched mouth and throat. Halfway through, Jack slowly pulled it away to your dismay, but you understood you must also take it easy.

“Good girl.”

He carefully dabbed your lips with a napkin. Noticing some slight bleeding on your chapped lips and being attuned to what you need, he applied some ointment to hydrate and soothe it.

“Thank you, dear husband.” You playfully pinched his nipple making him shake his head. 

Smiling, he shifted closer and delicately draped his right arm around you, resting his hand on your left side so you could feel his warmth without putting any pressure on your surgical wounds. This was the closest thing to a cuddle for now, but he took what he could get.

“Are you in any pain? I can ask for another bolus, if needed.”

You shook your head and leaned back on the pillow. “Not much, just tired.” 

You reached for his hand, yearning to feel its warmth. You fiddled with his wedding ring and laced your fingers together.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You did. At least fragments of it. 

The gunshots.

The excruciating pain. 

The blinding lights. 

And the one thing that kept you tethered to life throughout.

Him. 

“I remember…” Your voice shuddered, swallowing the lump of tears in your throat.  “...you being stubborn and not giving up on me.” 

Jack released a shaky exhale, pressing your hand against his face and kissing your palm, crying and smiling at the same time. “I love you, honey. So, so much. Thank you for staying.”

You instinctively snaked your hands towards his nape, pulling him closer until his forehead touched yours, and whispered against his lips. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Jack Abbot.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

—

Parker and John quickly stole your attention away from Jack as soon as they learned you were awake, not without Jack nagging them to take it easy considering what you had been through. They offered to look after you so your husband could get some rest, but Jack was adamant to be the one looking after you.

It was the first occasion that painted a clearer picture of your relationship to the other people in the hospital. Seeing his reaction and considering how he never left your side, was listed as your emergency contact, and consented for your treatment and medications, they reckoned that your relationship was truly more than what they initially believed to be.

When you got transferred into the private suite, Jack finally got a comfortable bed where he could properly rest. Stubborn as ever, he never used it. He opted to use the reclining chair by your bedside so he can either hold your hand or easily reach you should you need anything. 

Your room became a permanent hang-out spot of the nightcrawlers during your time in the hospital. They brought you and Jack breakfast after their shift, and then dinner before clocking in. Dana and Robby frequented to ensure you both got everything you needed. Robby, having spare keys to your house, also brought extra clothes for Jack and checked in on your house while you were admitted until your surgeon cleared you for discharge.

The once empty shelves and table soon became filled with flowers, assortment of fruits and snacks, and even some homemade food from Lena to help you recover faster knowing how bland hospital food can be sometimes. 

Despite how traumatic the situation was, you were ever grateful for the love and care of the people around you, not just towards you, but towards your husband as well.

Finally coming home meant you regained your Jack. 

Not Dr. Jack Abbot, but your husband. 

The hospital bed was too big, too cold. And while Jack was always by your side throughout, both your guards were still up and you both still had to be professional.

At home, you could finally put down the weight off your shoulders. 

At home you could just be Jack and Y/N, husband and wife.

Just the two of you doing life things, free from prying eyes and expectations. 

He padded around your room in his black boxers and freed from his prosthesis, while you sat by the bed in your silk sleeping robe. His curls were an unruly mop on his head after your shared shower while yours was all over the place after his attempt of blowdrying it given the limited movement of your left arm. His left leg rested on top of a pillow while you rubbed yours against his meaty thighs. His voice was more animated as he argued about what the writers had done to his favourite character in the series  you had been catching up on while you listened intently and indulged in everything he was saying. 

And then as the night deepened and the comfortable silence enveloped the atmosphere, his arms curled around you while you snuggled against him. 

“I missed your warm cuddles.” You whispered, brushing your nose against his. 

“I am glad we are home, honey.” He pulled you in closer, pecking the tip of your nose and your lips. “So fucking relieved.”

“Well, I hope you don’t get bored staying at home and taking care of me for another 2 weeks.” 

He chuckled, “Baby, we stayed cooped up at home for more than a month when we both got COVID. I learned how to bake. Two weeks is pretty easy.”

“I am already thinking of how our house would look during my sabbatical.” You twirled your fingers on his curl, eliciting a soft hum from him. 

“I’ll ask Ahmad to put up a betting board on what your hyperfixation might be, I already have some ideas.”

You giggled as Jack as he tucked you both under the duvet, sleep already lulling the two of you. 

It was quiet. 

Quiet enough to hear and feel how Jack’s heart was still racing against his chest.

“Hey, Jack…”

You tilted your head just enough to look into his lidded eyes. 

“Ease your storm.”

“Hm?”  He scrunched his brow and drew you closer. 

“I am okay now, my love. We’re okay. I am safe in your arms.”

Jack nodded, anchoring himself with a deep, steadying breath, feeling your hand against his chest. Slowly his heartbeat started quieting. And so as he relaxed and leaned in to capture your lips in a loving kiss, you met him halfway.

“I love you, Jack.”

“I love you more."

With you nestled safely against his chest, you both let the tension and worries of the day go, closed your eyes, and drifted into slumber.

A month flew by in a blink of an eye.

Your recovery was smooth, all thanks to your husband who strictly monitored your medicines, follow-up checkups, and even your physical therapy sessions to ensure your shoulder injury did not have an impact on your arm’s mobility. 

While he was hesitant, he came back to work two weeks after your discharge, with a promise that you would update him regularly. His first two weeks back were filled with a series of video calls whenever he could find time, checking how you were and reminding you to take it easy. There were days wherein he also asked Robby to stay in your place while he was on shift, which his friend willingly obliged.

Jack installed new CCTV cameras around the house and the porch, the latest model with mic and speakers features, so he could monitor you real-time even while at work. 

“I feel like I am on baby monitors,” You told him while you were facetiming one time, while you munch on some frozen strawberries.

“Exactly the point. You’re my baby. Hence the monitors.” He wiggled his brows, pleased with himself.

You feigned a vomiting reaction followed by a giggle. 

“I hate you.”

“I love you more. See you at home.”

No matter how smooth he thought he was, Jack Abbot will always be a huge dork. 

And you love him even more for it.

—

Turns out, Jack was right. 

Apparently, suturing chicken or Jack’s steak was insufficient in keeping your brain functioning despite it being helpful for your motor skills. 

It took no time before you started exploring something new to stimulate you while on a break. 

The delivery you were waiting for arrived at a perfect timing during Jack’s day off. 

The only problem was, it was bigger than you were expecting. 

You took giddy steps going towards the small library at home where he was busy scrolling through his laptop, looking so handsome it should be illegal. 

Leaning by the door frame, you gawked at him, admiring how his “screen-safe” readers sat on his nose bridge, how he pursed his lips, and how he tilted his head while browsing through some documents. 

“You need something, honey?” 

Jack and spidey senses when it comes to you. He did not even need to turn his eyes away from the screen.

“Yuuuup,” When his voice broke your trance, you strode towards him.

“Yuuuup?”

He mimicked, making you smirk as you sat by the side of the table and flipping through the documents.

His VA documents. More specifically, his VA benefit records. 

“What are you doing with these, hun?” You squinted your eyes in confusion, turning your body to see him going through his online bank records. “Is something wrong?”

“No, actually. I am just admiring the figure.” He pecked your hand, closing the laptop and looking up at you. 

“Oooh, I am so lucky to be married to a rich, handsome doctor.”

You leaned in to press kisses on both his cheeks, and he huffed. 

“Okay, what does my wife need?”

“I have a delivery…”

He pressed his lips in a tight line, holding back a smirk.

“Let me guess, it is quite heavy.”

“Yes,” you nodded sheepishly.

“A new appliance? For beverages?”

“Mhm?”

“Am I getting warmer?”

“You’ll see.” You dragged him by his arm towards the porch but Jack blocked the door before you could open it.

“Honey, I put my bet on this. Is it a professional espresso machine?”

You went slack-jawed and Jack released a hearty laugh. He opened the door, effortlessly carrying the parcel inside the house and towards the kitchen. Thankfully he was still in his prosthesis after your short walk that afternoon.

“How did you know?!”

“We watch too many coffee videos before bed, honey…” He placed the machine on the counter and you started to remove the protective wrappings of the box. “Plus, I saw you browsing and checking this out.”

“And you actually placed a bet? That’s cheating!”

“Nope, that is called deduction, honey.” Jack just shrugged, handing you the scissors. “Now enough chit-chat doc, time to play with your new toy.”

“Let’s!”

Your great meltdown happened nearly three months into your break. 

You were fine. Healed.  Cleared for work, even. 

Or so you thought. 

There was a part of you that was left out in the process of recuperation. 

Jack found you in the living room when he came home from work, gorging on a tub of ice cream, bawling your eyes out to a documentary about dinosaurs. 

You did not know why you were crying and why you could not stop. 

But your husband did. 

The psychological and emotional toll you had been numbing for a while had already caught up. Hard.

You set it aside, in your attempt to not worry Jack and assure him you were okay. You were masking the whole time, thinking that maybe when you act okay, everything will follow suit. But in reality, the darkness just crept in later. 

“It’s okay, honey. Cry it out. It feels good, yeah?” He cradled you in a tight embrace, stroking your hair and waiting out the storm with you. 

You both fell asleep tangled on the sofa, lulled by a documentary about the Velociraptors playing in the background.

—

Jack never brought up your breakdown in any of your conversations. He knew it was vital you let it out and being with you for many years, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the topic came up. The best thing he could do, as always, was to navigate it with you, as you always do for him. 

He was right. 

It was your date night, spent at home. Jack unleashed his absolutely sexy chef alter-ego with his perfectly medium steak, paired with your pecorino and truffle gnocchi. For dessert, he helped you prepare a classic tiramisu, making full use of your espresso machine that you already mastered.

You then capped off the night in your outdoor jacuzzi, one of your favourite places at home.

You turned your unassuming backyard into a small oasis—tall cedar walls, canopy decorated with small lanterns and warm lights, wooden decking covering the tub itself, and various plants and greenery planted around. 

Jazz music swelled from the living area and you emerged with two glasses of wine, joining your husband in the tub, holding on to his outstretched arm.

Soft groans escaped your lips as you rested on the wall of the tub while the high-pressure jets of water melted the tension in your body. You closed your eyes and basked in the relaxing ambience and your absolutely gorgeous company.

Jack laid his eyes on you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed steadily. A ghost of a small smile painted his lips and he took the moment to press his lips against the scars on your shoulder and chest. 

You felt your soul awaken when he did so. Tilting his head by his chin, you kissed him softly, knowing he could taste your tears as the petals of your lips slotted in between his.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He asked, wrapping his arm around you so you could feel his warm skin against yours. 

“Nothing… just… last week…”

“It’s okay to cry, my love. You know that.”

“Everything just felt so real, you know. My scars, the charges and the hearings, my rehab…” You hiccuped, “I was convincing myself I was okay… I did not want you to worry and I thought I was over it… then it came crashing on me.”

Jack listened intently as you let go of the fears and emotions. 

“Honey, I worry everyday, even before that. I am your husband, that’s what we do. That’s an extension of love.”

Looking up at him, you met his mesmerizing eyes, one of the many things you love about him, those kind amber eyes. His eyes spoke volume more than anything, irises of honey glimmered even in the dark of the night, warm hues melting your insides reminding you of the hot chocolates you used to share on the rooftop when you were still in the beginning of your relationship, and his ethereal beauty leaving you breathless every time.

As his arms encircled your body and pressed you fervently against his, a shudder rocked through you. You had your arm wrapped around him ever tightly, letting him nuzzle against the crook of your neck and burying yourself in his is. You shivered from his hot, shaky breath fanning your skin and his lips grazing ever gently by your neck.

“I was thinking of stopping overall,” He admitted, tangling his fingers through your hair. “That was why I was checking my VA documents and our bank accounts. I was thinking we’d have enough with my lifetime benefits, plus our investments.”

Your heart sank. 

The thought of you and Jack giving up on what you love, your purpose, did not sit well with you.

Perhaps, that was your answer. That was your driving force to keep going.

“I was thinking we can just open a private practice… or cafe… less risks…”

“A cafe?”

Jack smiled at the thought.

“But seeing you butcher and suture those chicken in our kitchen…” You both chuckled, realizing just how many recipes you perfected just to not waste the meat.

“I could not take you away from what you love. I will be denying a lot of people the privilege of being under your care.”

You remained silent, letting Jack hold you closer as his vulnerability surfaced. “I was fucking terrified of losing you.” 

“We’ve been so lucky, living the promise of a day that some may never see.”

“We are. But we’re also a damn great team and have already saved countless lives.”

You hummed, “ And we could save so many more.”

“Yes we could.” He rested his chin on top of your head. “This is not the time we give up, honey. Remember what they told us in Hawaii?”

You curled your brows and craned your neck so you could look at him.

“We can never erase what already transpired, but we can overwrite it with beautiful ones. It feels dark now, I know, but we have each other to help each other dance through it. That’s what matters.”

You held each other as if drawing strength and healing from that embrace, as if breathing each other in for dear life, and as if the ground would collapse if either of you let go.

You never thought you could love Jack even more, but he had proven you wrong again. 

Jack is the only one who could put your pieces back together. He is your anchor in the stormy seas, your solid-ground, and the one who holds you in the dark until the day appears. 

“I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve your love, but I always thank the heavens that I have you, Jack Abbot.”

Your husband smiled at you, tucking your hair behind your ear and stroking your cheek with his thumb gently. 

“So…” He mumbled under his breath, searching your eyes. “Join me in therapy?”

You threw your head back laughing, before yanking him in for a loud, playful smooch on his lips. 

“Yes, therapy.” You nodded, already pulling away, only for him to reel you back in for a deeper, more ardent exchange.

“Good girl.”