Work Text:
Victoria smiled as she held up the boxes to the camera.
“It’s a slow day, so we’re gonna play pregnancy roulette at the ER,” she said, showing the girls behind her— Trinity, Samira, Mel, and Cassie. The group smiled, some looking a bit more awkward than the others, as Victoria turned the camera off, set her phone down on the bathroom counter, and began to rip into the boxes.
“Here, let me help,” Cassie said, already grabbing a few boxes.
“No, I got it,” Victoria insisted, producing the first test. She immediately tossed it towards Trinity underhand, and she caught it effortlessly.
She raised an eyebrow, gaze fixed on the test now in her hand. “Do I really need to be included in this, Crash?” she asked skeptically. Victoria huffed and focused on the next box. She had bought five, and by God, she was going to use five.
“Emma didn’t wanna participate,” she said simply, as if that explained everything.
Trinity didn’t respond to that verbally, just fixed her with one of her ‘are you serious?’ looks and sighed. Victoria handed the next test to Mel. Cassie handed one to Samira.
“So how exactly is this going to work?” Mel asked, shifting awkwardly in her spot. She fiddled idly with the test in her hand, and Victoria opened the third box and slipped the test into her palm. The white plastic and deep blue accents stared back up at her uninvitingly.
“You’re gonna take the test like normal, then we’re gonna put them all result-side down in this paper cup—” Victoria fumbled to pick up the paper coffee cup she’d snagged from the break room— “and then each of us will pick one and read the results. And film it.”
“And if one of them is positive?” Mel asked.
“Then we don’t know who’s pregnant,” Victoria supplied. Mel didn’t look assuaged in the slightest, but she had agreed to participate, so…
“It’s not like any of you guys are pregnant, c’mon,” Trinity said with a roll of her eyes as she headed for the nearest stall. “Even if you guys are pulling, I would hope you’d be smart enough to wrap it before you tap it.”
“Imagine they’re all positive,” Victoria joked, and Mel groaned, covering her face in something like nervousness at the thought. “Kidding. Now, let’s go pee on some sticks.”
The entire process was quick enough. Victoria leaned idly against the wall once everyone was done taking the test, with them waiting for the results to show. Samira was scrolling on her phone, Trinity seemed to be counting the ceiling tiles. After the three minutes were finally up, Cassie’s phone buzzed to alert everyone that they should look, and Victoria made a relieved noise, pulling herself away from the wall to grab her phone.
“Sticks are in the cup,” she said to the camera where it was positioned on the counter, then gave the cup a demonstrative shake. The plastic tests clicked against one another. “I’ll go first.”
She grabbed the first stick, flipped it around, then showed the result to the camera.
“Negative,” she said with an almost nervous smile.
She stepped back with the test and stared down at it as Trinity slid into frame and grabbed a test herself.
“Negative,” Trinity said, bored, as she leaned down against the bathroom counter. “Which, like, I could’ve told you that.”
Samira shooed her off with a laugh and took her place, grabbing a test. “Alright, Trin, we get it, we don’t—” She stopped short, looking down at the test. Victoria watched as a hundred emotions flicked over her face in a span of a second. She cleared her throat, sobering a bit. “Uh, it’s positive.”
“What?!” Victoria asked, perking up immediately. “You’re joking.”
“No, look, I’m serious, it’s positive,” Samira insisted, showing the test to her, and she bit her lip down to keep herself from laughing at the absurdity of it. “It’s, like, really there.”
“Oh my God,” Trinity said, butting in next to them to get a look herself. Cassie ushered Mel closer so the two of them could see as well.
“Show the camera, show the camera,” Victoria insisted, and Samira did so reluctantly. “Okay. Okay, Mel, you’re up, c’mon.”
“What?” Mel asked, standing up a bit straighter, looking considerably more nervous than she’d been before. Victoria beckoned her over, and she came hesitantly, like a nervous deer approaching a strange human with a handful of acorns. “Right. Uh.”
Mel grabbed a test, clearly rattled, but she stilled when she looked down at the result.
“Um, negative,” she managed, then immediately scurried off to lean against the wall, out of frame.
“Looks like I’m last,” Cassie said, slinking into frame like she wasn’t put off at all by the situation, but Victoria knew her better by now. The subtle tension in her shoulders, the tick of her jaw. Cassie ignored the nervous (and in Trinity’s case, sardonic) giggles from behind her as she grabbed the last test. She squinted at it for a long moment.
“What does it say?” Victoria asked, leaning closer, and stopped dead when she saw the result herself. Two lines stared back at her. Her breath caught. “Oh my God, you’re joking.”
“It’s positive,” Cassie confirmed, flipping it around to show the camera.
“It is not,” Trinity said immediately, sounding about as surprised as Victoria felt. Flummoxed, even. “Well, two of y’all are pregnant. Not me.”
Victoria’s head spun a bit as she tried to think of who it could possibly be. Not Trinity— duh, lesbian. Cassie was perimenopausal, which, while still possible, highly unlikely for it to be her. That just left Mel, Samira, and… Victoria herself. She gazed down at the negative test in her hand. She had no way of knowing if it was hers.
She dismissed the thought, then grabbed her phone and turned off the camera.
“Okay,” she said carefully as she slid her phone into her pocket. “I might have to text somebody.”
“Yeah, me too,” Samira agreed, already looking back down at the test in her hand.
“Same,” Mel said at the same time.
Victoria’s eyes snapped up to Mel immediately, shocked.
“Mel, are you seeing someone?” she asked, and Mel bristled, adjusting her glasses.
“…Kind of,” she admitted. She looked so uncomfortable, brows knit, shoulders tense, hands clenched hard enough that her knuckles were white. “It’s, um, it’s mostly casual— I don’t really wanna talk about it.”
The door opened as if on cue, and Dana leaned her head in.
“If you guys are done playing, we got a couple too many patients out here,” she said, resting her shoulder on the door frame. “Let me guess: none of you guys are pregnant, and it was a waste of time.”
“There were two positives, actually,” Victoria said, properly sweeping the boxes and cup off the counter and into the trash can.
“Yikes,” Dana said, raising an eyebrow, then turned to leave. “Welp, I still need hands out there, we got an incoming asthma attack and a rule-out MI, four and seven minutes out respectively.”
The heavy silence settled over the group as the door swung closed, and Trinity cleared her throat awkwardly after a long moment.
“I’m gonna hop on that MI,” she said, sliding between Victoria and Samira. She patted Victoria’s arm as she did so. “Crash, you with me?”
“I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” she grumbled, but followed all the same.
That night, Samira stood parked at her own bathroom counter, staring down at the tests she’d taken, trying to will the results to change. She’d bought three and only used two— and both sat on the counter, results up, proudly declaring that there was a baby growing in there to anybody who glanced a moment too long.
She only stood there.
The tests did not change.
After a steadying breath, then grabbed the two tests and stuck them in the pocket of her sweatpants. Well, not hers. Jack’s. She ran a hand through her hair anxiously.
Then, she slid her phone out of her other pocket and typed a message to Jack.
Samira:
Call me when you get the chance. It’s really important.
Three bubbles popped up almost immediately, then disappeared— then popped up again.
Jack:
Is it “what do we need for groceries” important?
Or “I’m actively having a panic attack” important?
She stared down at the two messages for a long moment. That was a good question.
Samira:
It’s a little closer to the second one.
That was… well, it was accurate enough. Not quite right, though. Only about thirty seconds later, her phone was ringing, and she stood up a bit straighter and answered.
“What’s going on?” Jack’s voice came, crackling through the receiver. Always straight to business with him. “Are you safe?”
“Yeah,” Samira managed, leaving the bathroom and sitting down on the floor in the hallway instead. “Yeah, I’m at home. I, um, we did this stupid thing at work today, is all, and I got in my head about it.”
“Who’s ‘we’ in this scenario?” Jack asked. She could practically see the raise of his brows.
“Me and a couple of the girls. Javadi, Santos, Mel, and Mckay,” she explained. “Javadi saw this TikTok trend, and it was a slow day, so she suggested we do this, like, pregnancy test game—”
“What?” He sounded baffled. Honestly, yeah, that was fair.
“I just was expecting all the tests to be negative,” she continued. “But, um, two of them were positive, so I kind of got— I dunno, I started obsessing over it a little.”
“Hey,” he said gently. If he were here, he’d do that thing he always did, where he reached up to cup her cheek, then run his hand through her hair. “You’re okay, baby, I promise. You’re not pregnant.”
Samira swallowed hard, hesitating. Somebody shouted something on the other end, hard to hear, distant.
“I’ll call you back,” he said, beginning his usual goodbye speech.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out before he could get any further. “I took another test when I got home, and I’m pregnant.”
It was Jack’s turn to fall silent, and for a moment, Samira feared he’d hung up and she hadn’t realized.
“You’re pregnant,” he echoed after a moment, his voice smaller than usual. A shaky breath picked up over the receiver. “You’re— actually?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, shifting to get more comfortable on the floor. The plastic tests clicked against one another in her pocket, weighing like a stone on her soul. In her gut. “Yeah, actually.”
“Oh my God,” he breathed, sounding almost touched. “Oh, Mira, baby.”
“Jack,” she managed, feeling the heat of incoming tears beginning to twist in her chest, up her throat. “Jack, I can’t afford a baby right now.”
“Don’t— hey,” he said quickly. “Don’t think about that right now. Okay? Don’t worry about the money, you’ve got me.”
“No, Jack,” she insisted, but he made a definitive noise to shut her down.
“If my baby’s having a baby, I’m going to take care of both of them,” he said sternly. Samira could practically feel the way his eyes narrowed in his tone. “…Come here.”
“What?” Samira asked.
“Come see me right now,” he said, doubling down. “We should talk about this face-to-face.”
She faltered for a long moment, because that was… probably a good idea, but that would entail getting dressed again. And after the shift she worked, Samira just wanted to take a shower at the temperature of the sun, watch Married at First Sight in her pajamas, and sleep for the next seventeen hours. And God, she’d kill for a grilled cheese right now—
“Mira,” Jack said, pulling her from her thoughts. “Baby. Come to the Pitt.”
“…Okay,” she conceded despite how little she wanted to leave her apartment right now. “Okay. Yeah, just give me a little bit to change.”
“You message me when you’re on your way, y’hear?” Jack said in that tone of his Samira knew meant it was a command and not a request. She hummed and nodded, even if he couldn’t see it.
“Yeah,” she affirmed. “Okay. Be there soon. Love you, Jack.”
“Good, I’ll see you,” he said. “I love you a lot. You stay safe.”
“You too.”
Jack hung up, and she pulled the phone away from her ear, then let it flip out of her grasp and into her lap, where her knees were bent near her chest. Her fingers followed the motion, but came to a stop at her lower stomach.
There was a life in there. In a few weeks, there would be a heartbeat, something tangible and measurable. She felt like her throat was closing at the thought of it, her breathing a little more labored.
In nine short months, she’d be a mother.
What if she ended up like her own mother? What if she became the type of mother who did things for attention? What if she ended up impulsive and reckless? What if she was bad at raising a kid?
If Jack were here, he’d tell her she' was being silly. He’d tell her to breathe, and he’d kiss her forehead, and remind her that she didn’t have to do any of this alone. He was there to keep her in line. Samira took a deep breath, reminding herself that. Jack had her. She could handle this.
So she stood and headed for her bedroom. She had to put on real pants if she was going to go see her boyfriend.
The paramedics arrived hot with the gurney, and Frank was on it.
“What do we got?” he asked as the team pushed the gurney closer. Soft restraints and a mess of blonde hair was all he could catch.
“29-year-old female, severe dehydration, post-syncope,” the paramedic replied. “Might’ve hit her head on the way down. A good Samaritan called an ambulance when she wouldn’t wake up. Tachy, BP is 80/50 and climbing, GCS of 13. Temp was 101 earlier, but it’s trending back down now. She’s a little confused, tried to push us away, so we restrained her.”
“Yikes,” he said as he headed for the trauma bay with them, then faltered as they passed him.
Mel. Glasses askew, eyes closed, and pale, so fucking pale. She looked like she hadn’t slept. She looked sick.
“Oh my God,” he breathed, nearly tripping over himself in his surprise. “Okay. Okay. Uh, how did she—”
“She can’t get enough of this place, can she?” Robby joked beside him, patting his shoulder a little too hard for comfort. That mask of nonchalance couldn’t fool Frank, not anymore, but he didn’t call it out in front of everyone. “Alright, Langdon, get her neuro workup, yeah?”
So Frank swallowed down the burning in his chest, the stir in his gut, and pulled himself together. For Mel.
“Pupils are equal and reactive, a little sluggish,” he called evenly. She stirred at the sound, eyes fluttering open finally on her own. His tone instantly softened. “Hey— hey, hi, Mel. It’s okay. We’ve got you, okay?”
“Wh— Frank?” she asked, brows furrowing lazily.
“Yeah, I’ve got you,” he assured her. Her eyes darted away, down to the other doctors in the room, and he guided her gaze back up to him. “Don’t focus on them, Mel, I’m here, I’m the only voice that matters. You know what happened?”
“…Got sick,” she managed. “I went for a walk for some fresh air, and next thing I know, I’m on the ground.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod. “Yeah, you syncopized and might’ve hit your head. You’re gonna be okay, though. You gotta drink water. You’re really dehydrated, we gotta get an IV in you.”
“Okay,” she echoed. “I still feel sick.”
“What kind of sick?” Frank asked. “Nausea?”
She nodded, eyes fluttering shut again, and she swallowed pointedly. Oh. Oh, she was really nauseous.
“Okay, turn your head to the side if you feel like you’re gonna throw up,” he said gently, then began working on undoing her restraints. The last thing she needed was to puke all over her clothes. Frank had been there before, and it was not pleasant. “We’ll get an emesis basin for you. Princess, can you grab an emesis basin for Dr. King?”
“…I’m Dr. King,” she managed, brows knitting again in confusion, and Frank had to bite back a laugh.
“Not you, honeybee,” he breathed. “I meant the nurse.”
She pinkened a bit at that. “Oh,” she mumbled, before Frank slid away to see if there was a bed for her.
By the time Mel was stabilized and transferred to an ER bed, she had a little more color in her cheeks, and Frank practically jumped at the chance to be her doctor. Robby had reluctantly agreed, and had told Frank in no uncertain terms that if he got weird about it, he’d be stuck in the break room and somebody else would take over.
He could keep himself in check until she went home in a few hours.
“Hey, honeybee,” he greeted as he slid the curtain closed behind him, rubbing hand sanitizer into his palms. “You gave us a real scare. No concussion, luckily.”
“I’ve been having trouble keeping stuff down,” she admitted, shifting in the bed awkwardly. She had declined changing into a patient gown, but that didn’t make the beds themselves any more comfortable.
His expression softened, and he moved to sit on the stool beside the bed.
“What’s going on?”
“Um, t-test results should be back by now,” she managed, avoiding eye contact like the plague. He ducked a bit to try and seek her gaze, but she didn’t give it to him, and he ignored the sting in his chest at that. Keep it cool, Frank.
He lingered another moment, then sighed and stood again.
“Okay,” he said. He pulled the computer cart in the curtained area near him and swiped his ID, typed the patient name, and read through the results. “Uh, your CBC and CMP both look good. Platelets are good. Blood sugar’s a little low, but that’s because you can’t keep anything down, no infections—”
He hesitated for a long moment.
Urine test positive for hCG.
He stared and cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Um,” he said, and Mel took that as answer enough.
“It’s yours,” she blurted out. Frank swallowed.
“You knew?”
“I took a pregnancy test the other day,” she admitted. “Well, I took one three days ago, but I didn’t know it was mine, and then another yesterday.”
Frank raised an eyebrow, but after a quick, stumbling explanation, his lips pressed into a flat line and he nodded.
“You’re— do you know how far along you are?” he asked, turning the computer back off, sidling back up to her. He was back on the stool. Back where he belonged— gaze fixed up at her.
“No,” she answered, fingers anxiously futzing with a lock of hair. Now that Frank thought about it, he didn’t see her hair down like this that often. Only when they were alone.
Before he could stop himself, a smile broke out across his face, and he guided her to look at him. He wasn’t even aware of when his mouth pressed to hers, not until they pulled apart and she was looking at him with eyes the size of dinner plates and mouth a little red. God, he loved her.
“You’re pregnant,” he breathed, and he felt like his head was spinning a little bit. Like things were falling away. All that exised, all that mattered, was Mel and him and the person they made together. “You’re gonna— that’s my baby in there. Mel, oh my God.”
A laugh spilled from his throat unbidden, and Mel sat there, looking unconvinced, until he tapered off.
“Frank,” she said after a moment, tone more somber than he wanted it to be, and he hesitated a long moment. “Frank, what about Abby?”
“What about her?” he asked gently.
“You’re not… you’re not divorced yet,” she said. Frank faltered for a long moment, because technically, she was right. Legally, they weren’t divorced. Abby and Frank were married on paper. Separated. But married.
Mel searched his expression.
“Frank, I can’t do this to her,” she said, voice smaller than it had ever been, and he wanted to just wrap her in his arms and keep her away from everything that was making her feel like she had to be that small. “I can’t do this to your family.”
He swallowed hard, looking right back at her, eyes fixed on the woman he loved, the woman he’d been loving as long as he could think. “I’ll divorce her,” he said simply.
“What?!” Mel squawked, eyes widening. She adjusted her glasses.
“I’ll divorce her,” he repeated. More conviction this time.
“No, no, don’t divorce her, Frank,” she insisted. “What about—”
“Mel,” he said. “Hey. Honeybee. I’ll worry about that stuff. Stress is bad for the baby, don’t even think about it. You’re my priority.”
She stared at him for a really long moment, then leaned back in the bed, resting her head back.
“You’re crazy,” she said, but somewhere under the exasperation there was a fondness that Frank preened on. He gave her a smile back.
“Yeah, maybe I am,” he replied. “…Do you wanna do an ultrasound? I can snag a machine, do some measurements.”
Mel softened, then reached out a hand, which Frank was more than happy to take.
“Yeah, okay,” she agreed with a soft smile of her own.