Chapter Text
Samira barely remembers her intern year, the year of that first devastating wave of the pandemic. It was a whirlwind of used masks, old gowns, the smell of antiseptic, and the dying, gasping breaths of her patients waiting for an ICU bed that would never come. By the time the dust clears – when people finally fucking listen, and start masking up and social distancing, when the first round of vaccines becomes available – Dr. Adamson is dead and every time Robby looks her way it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with her. Dr. Adamson’s last student, still taking her first wobbly steps as an emergency medicine physician.
Samira ranked the PTMC emergency department first after sitting through Dr. Adamson’s guest lecture on effects of implicit bias on patient outcomes in the emergency room. Afterwards, she had pulled him to the side and they had talked for so long that the next lecturer had to kick them out.
‘This is the doctor I want to learn from’ is what she thought to herself afterwards. She was ecstatic when she opened her Match Day envelope and saw the words Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center - Emergency Medicine. Her mother congratulated her with a tight smile, clearly disappointed that she wasn’t going to be working somewhere closer to home but Samira didn’t care. She was going to be learning from the best.
She respects Robby as a doctor but she didn’t come to Pittsburgh for him and he doesn’t know how to teach her. Samira grits her teeth and holds her tongue through each lecture, fighting against every instinct to defend her choices. Not when Samira knows that Robby will just gently (and then, not so gently) suggest that she consider switching to psych. And maybe she would feel less lonely if she had someone to talk to, someone who understood what she’s going through, but she is the only person in her residency class. She considers going to Collins but Samira knows that she won’t understand, not when Robby treats her more like a peer than resident.
Now in her second year, Robby’s newest grip is her patient turnover.
“The intern shouldn’t be faster than you, Samira.”
Robby sighs out after he pulls her from her patient’s bedside, hands scrubbing over his face in frustration. “Mckay’s already on her fifth patient and you’re still only getting the history on your second.”
Samira is determined to prove herself. She belongs in emergency medicine – she knows it and she just needs Robby to see it.
She’s rounding the corner, distracted while placing orders on the tablet, when she runs into something extremely solid. Samira probably would have fallen flat on her back if it weren’t for the strong grip around her waist keeping her on her feet.
“Careful there, Mohan.”
Samira finds herself looking at the amused face of Dr. Abbot once she gets her bearings.
She doesn’t really get to interact much with Dr. Abbot; Samira mostly hands her patients off to Ellis or Shen when the night shift comes to relieve her. Dr. Abbot oversees the more critical trauma patients and Robby rarely calls for her when those come in, always preferring Collins or Langdon. Still, Samira has only ever heard good things about Dr. Abbot. Even when Ellis groans about him during handoff, it’s with a familiar, easy air. Samira can’t imagine doing the same with Robby.
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Abbot.”
Up this close, Samira can see the flecks of green in his hazel eyes. He smells… strangely good. Antiseptic but his own scent underneath, cedarwood and citrus. The warmth of his hands seeps through her scrub top and she can’t help but be a little disappointed when his hands fall back to his side. Samira can’t remember the last time she’s been touched by a person who wasn’t one of her patients, by someone who didn’t need the comfort of the squeeze of their hand in hers.
“You should be more careful, Mohan.” Dr. Abbot quirks his lip up in an almost-smile. “Wouldn’t want our best and brightest out of commission.”
Samira’s not proud of it but she bursts into tears right then and there. Loud, messy sobs with tears that immediately blur her vision.
“Mohan, are you hurt?” Samira can’t see him through the mess of her tears but Dr. Abbot’s voice has taken on a panicked edge that she’s never heard before.
“N-no.” Samira takes a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to regain control of herself, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands, but the soft, concerned look he has on his face just sets her off again. “I’m sorry, it's just been a hard couple of shifts.”
There’s a brief pause as Dr. Abbot considers her before tilting his head toward the elevator bank. “C’mon, follow me.”
“My patients–”
“Your patients will be fine, Dr. Mohan. I’m sure Robby has it handled.” Dr. Abbot’s already walking away, clearly expecting her to follow.
Samira trails behind him, feeling more than a little lost when he presses the button for the admin floor. Dr. Abbot doesn’t try to make conversation, something that Samira is grateful for as she collects herself. When the elevator opens with a ding, Dr. Abbot makes a beeline toward the stairwell with roof access, clearly labeled Authorized Personnel Only.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to go up there.”
Dr. Abbot just throws her a playful grin over his shoulder, “Some rules are meant to be broken, Dr. Mohan.” Samira hears the challenge in his voice.
The sound of his boots echo against the walls as he starts climbing up the stairs. She should not be here. She should be downstairs, discharging her stable ankle fracture and following up on the labs for her patient with new on-set altered mental status. She doesn’t have time to waste wandering around the hospital with the night shift attending who she barely knows.
And yet despite all good reason telling Samira to walk away, she can’t. She wants to know what Dr. Abbot wants to show her, wants to know why he called her their best and brightest when her own attending doesn’t think that highly of her - or of her at all.
When Samira pushes the door open, she finds that Dr. Abbot is already standing at the railing, looking out to the park that’s right next to the hospital. The wind whips the free strands of her hair around as she makes her way over to him, sun shining into her eyes.
“I like to come up here when I’ve had a hard shift,” Dr. Abbot says while looking over the horizon. “Helps to put things into perspective. We spend so much time down there in the Pitt that those four walls can feel like the whole world. It’s good to have a reminder that it’s not.”
Over the blaring of the ambulance sirens, Samira can hear the noise of the city: cars honking and the delighted screams of the kids playing in the park. She lets herself take a deep breath; her first breath of fresh air in who knows how long. Lets the tension seep out of her as she rolls her neck.
“Feeling better?” Dr. Abbot does her the courtesy of not looking at her.
“Much better. Didn’t know how badly I needed a change of scenery. Robby’s….” Samira hesitates slightly, mindful that she’s talking to Robby’s best friend.
“Robby’s a jackass.”
Dr. Abbot’s dry delivery makes Samira snort. “He’s been on my case about my patient turnover.”
“Ah.”
“I just… I just don’t want to miss anything.” Samira can still picture her dad, begging to see the doctor again when the nurse came with his discharge papers. They had reassured him that everything came back normal, that he was fine. They were coding him in the hospital parking lot thirty minutes later.
“You know, you remind me a lot of Robby.”
“Me?” Samira doesn’t see it at all. She doesn’t know if she should be insulted. “Not Langdon?”
“Nah, he wants to think he was a Langdon but he’s just like you. Always willing to go the distance for his patients.” Dr. Abbot turns to her then and the intense way he’s looking at her automatically makes Samira avert her gaze but he just ducks his head so that he can meet her eyes. “It’s easy to reduce our patients down to their chief complaint but they are human beings. And we are human beings before we are doctors. Making that connection with them will only help us do our job better. It’s what makes you a great doctor, Samira.”
Samira didn’t think he knew her name.
“Thank you.” She suddenly feels shy but she can’t look away from him as he smiles at her, the corner of his eyes crinkling.
“Feel free to come up here whenever you need some perspective. No one else really comes up here anyway. And," Dr. Abbot rifles through his pockets until he finds a piece of scrap paper and a pen. He scribbles something on it, using his thigh as a support, before offering the paper to her. “Take my number. In case you need to talk.”
Samira feels overwhelmed by his kindness. Her fingers brush against his as she gingerly takes the paper from his hand and Samira can’t help the shiver that runs up her spine at the brief contact. “Thank you, Dr. Abbot. I mean it.”
“Call me Jack.” Dr. Abbot – Jack – starts to make his way back towards the stairwell. “Take as long as you need, Dr. Mohan. I’ll handle Robby.”
Samira is left alone on the rooftop, fingers gripping tight onto that little piece of paper, ignoring the strange flutter in her chest.
-
In the beginning of her third year of residency, Samira suddenly finds herself with a rare five-day stretch off. Normally, she only gets one singular day between her shifts which she spends doing chores and maintenance around her tiny one bedroom apartment. Samira only ever needs a single day. She’s been living in the same apartment since her intern year but it’s still practically as empty as the day she moved in. When she’s lucky enough to get two days off in row, she’ll spend the second day working on her research paper. Anymore than that and she gets antsy. She just ends up sitting around waiting for the text asking if she’s available to come in and cover (they always need coverage and she’s always available).
This time is different though.
“You’ve hit your max hours and you've got all this PTO that you hadn’t used yet.”
Stacey from HR had pulled her to the side one morning to drop this bomb on her.
“I really don’t mind working.” Samira’s palms are already sweating at the thought of having to use her untouched PTO.
Stacey gives her a look over her glasses. “You can finish out this shift but after this, you’re off the schedule until Monday.”
“Monday!?”
“This is out of our hands, Dr. Mohan. It’s a Department of Health issue.” Stacey doesn’t even look up at her as she shifts through her paperwork. “I’ve already informed Dr. Robinavitch and he will adjust staffing accordingly.”
Samira cringes internally. Robby must have loved having to meet with Stacey from HR about her hours.
Now she’s looking down the barrel of five whole days off and she needs to actively fight the panic threatening to claw its way up her throat. As she spends the morning scrolling through her text messages in bed, Samira is hit with the realization that she perhaps has no friends. Or she does, friends from undergrad and med school, but their lives are now so radically different from Samira’s that she doesn’t feel like she could give any of them a call, not even to the few that live a reasonably drivable distance from her. She can only imagine how those conversations will go when the only thing she can contribute is talking about how she clocked in ninety hours at work the previous week. Her crushing lack of a personal life has been much easier to ignore when she’s running on adrenaline and the horrible break room coffee.
Samira scrolls until she pauses at Dr. Abbot’s name. Despite his insistence at being called Jack, Samira still can’t work up the nerve to do so. She had agonized over what name to save his number under before settling on Dr. Jack Abbot (Attending - PTMC), the same way she had saved every other number she had gotten from a colleague.
She opens their text chain, which only has two messages.
Hi, this is Samira Mohan.
Thank you again for today.
Dr. Jack Abbot (Attending - PTMC)
👍
It’s been practically a year since that exchange yet Samira still finds herself opening the text chain from time to time. Which is so pathetic that it makes Samira want to throw herself off the roof she now knows how to access. Despite the lack of texts, Dr. Abbot continues to be affable and exceedingly kind to her in person. She doesn’t feel the crushing pressure with him that she gets when she has to present a patient to Robby. When Dr. Abbot is the one quietly observing as she’s running a trauma, she feels easy and confident in herself, knowing that he won’t interrupt her chain of thought, that he trusts that she will come to the correct plan of care on her own. Will give her that almost-smile of his as he says Solid work, Dr. Mohan.
Samira finds herself getting to work earlier and earlier, hoping to get the chance to work on a patient with him before Robby comes in. Which has probably contributed to her mandatory “break”. Ellis will give her a look each time she comes in an hour before her shift but thankfully otherwise keeps her mouth shut. Dr. Abbot for his part just seems delighted to see her whenever she walks through the ambulance bay doors, grateful for the extra set of hands. It probably doesn’t even occur to him that it’s abnormal that Samira is consistently there before the sun is even up, not when he’s the exact same way – showing up early and seeing patients long before he’s supposed to be clocked in.
As she lays in bed, Samira is aware enough to be embarrassed that she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She would work on her paper but she spent the entire previous day in the throes of writer's block so bad that she didn’t add a single sentence to her draft. She needs a change in scenery.
And if she finds herself at the park across the street from PTMC, Samira has no comment. She had intended to wander around, explore the city a bit, but her feet had automatically carried her back to the hospital. Samira knows that the staff would sometimes meet up for drinks at the park after work but she’s never actually attended herself even when Cassie or Princess urge her to join them.
It ends up being kind of nice. It’s a beautiful September day with a slight breeze, where the weather is still warm but not oppressively hot like in August. She has a delicious mint lemonade from the cafe near the park’s entrance. Samira had planned on finally finishing the book that’s been sitting on her coffee table for the last year, a recommendation from one of her med school professors, but her head jerks up, heart pounding, every time she hears an ambulance blare their sirens.
Samira gives up with a sigh, opting for a bit of people watching instead. There’s a large running path right in front of her and it seems like the whole city is out right now. She’s in the middle of watching a particularly adorable corgi try to keep up with their human when she spots him.
She would have to be blind to miss Dr. Abbot jogging down the path in her direction, especially with his sleek running blade. In fact, she can’t quite seem to take her eyes off of him, sweaty in a t-shirt with sleeves that stretch obscenely over his biceps. The hem of his loose gym shorts lifts up a bit with every stride, giving Samira a peek of his black compression shorts wrapped tight around his thick thighs.
In fact, she’s so busy ogling him that she doesn’t pull her book to cover her face in time and she sees the exact moment that Dr. Abbot spots her. She internally panics as he changes course to jog towards her.
“Don’t tell me you actually got a lunch break today.” Dr. Abbot jokes as he plops down next to her. He lifts up the hem of his t-shirt to wipe at the sweat dripping down his face and Samira turns away quickly but not before she gets a glimpse of pale freckled skin and coarse hair trailing into his shorts.
“It’s my day off.” Samira would feel self-conscious admitting to anyone else that she’s spending her day off hanging out across the street from the hospital but not Dr. Abbot. Not when he’s clocking in just as many hours as she is.
“Lucky you. You deserve a break," he says, grinning at her.
Samira sighs, “It’s fine but I’m not sure what to do with myself. Already did all my laundry and mopped my floors. No more dirty dishes in the sink.” Not that she has many when she’s been living off Trader Joe’s frozen meals and takeout.
“In that case, would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?” he asks, his eyes drifting over to her cup with nothing left but melting ice.
“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your run.”
“I was practically done anyway. C’mon Mohan, come keep an old man company for a little bit.”
Usually when Samira gets invited to something, she’s politely declining before her brain even completely processes the offer but it’s scarily easy to say yes to Dr. Abbot. She packs up her stuff and follows him a couple of streets away from the hospital to a side street with a cute little cafe that Samira has never seen before. Samira sits at one of the two little metal tables on the sidewalk while Dr. Abbot orders for them. She had protested at first but he had just waved her off, empathizing how rare it is for there to be any free seating at all especially with the weather as nice as it is.
“Hazelnut latte with oat milk.” Dr. Abbot sets her drink down in front of her along with a small wax bakery bag. “And a chocolate chip cookie. Don’t argue, just try. They make the best ones in the city.”
He has an identical bag in his hand that he’s already pushing the top down to reveal a soft-looking chocolate chip cookie with large flakes of sea salt on top. Samira bites back a smile at the way he practically groans at the first bite.
“Thanks, Dr. Abbot.” Samira says as she reaches for her own cookie.
“I thought I told you to call me Jack.”
“You still call me Mohan. Everyone else calls me Samira.” she counters. It really is a good cookie. Even sweeter is the way that Dr. Abbot is looking at her, mouth twisting as he tries to suppress his smile.
“Samira,” he finally says after a beat.
“Jack.” It’s bad how much she likes the way his name rolls off her tongue. The grin that he has been trying to suppress breaks through, and oh, isn’t it devastating.
They fall into easy conversation after that, especially after Jack brings up an article he’d seen in last month’s British Medical Journal. Samira doesn’t remember the last time she had talked this much, laughed this much, with anyone. Jack even promises to text her some of the craziest case reports he’d read. She probably could have stayed at that cramped little table for the rest of the afternoon, her knees bumping into his every so often, if Jack hadn’t looked at his watch and grimaced.
“I should probably go get some sleep before work tonight.”
“You’re working tonight? You shouldn’t have let me keep you.” Samira is horrified at the idea that it’s been so long since she had the opportunity to just hang out with someone that she’s out of practice reading social cues. She has just been babbling on while Jack has been politely waiting for her to finish so that he could leave to get some sleep.
“You didn’t keep me, I got caught up in the conversation. And it’s fine, I live right over there.”
Samira follows Jack’s finger to where he’s pointing: a single story townhouse right across the street.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you lived so close to the hospital.”
“We used to live further out in the suburbs but I sold that house after Amy passed.”
Even Samira knows about Jack’s wife. Stage four pancreatic cancer. She was gone within four months of her diagnosis. Jack had come back from bereavement leave right when Covid became something more than a foreign flu.
“Now, I can’t sleep unless I hear a siren going off every hour.” Jack continues as he stands. He lingers at the table, looking at her like he’s not quite ready to walk away yet. Samira isn’t ready for him to walk away yet. “Guess I’ll see you around, Mohan. We’ll try to survive without you.”
“See you around, Abbot.”
When Jack gets to his door, he turns and gives her a little wave before stepping through his doorway. Samira spends more time than she would admit staring at where he stood, wondering what he would have done if she had followed him in.
-
By now, Samira has a pretty good idea of where Jack likes to hide out.
The rooftop is a classic, of course, but the hospital has closed off access for some construction. He’s been known to be found in one of the hidden supply closets in the basement, pacing around a four-by-four foot room while surrounded by extra office supplies. Tonight, Samira finds him in the ambulance bay, sitting between the open doors of a parked ambulance watching the smoke from his cigarette disappear into the night sky.
“Don’t you know those things will kill you?”
Jack lets out a wet sounding chuckle. He won’t look at her but she knows his eyes are red-rimmed from tears. “Yeah, but I just can’t help myself sometimes.”
Samira sits down next to him, their knees barely touching. Drunk driver behind the wheel of a five-thousand pound pickup truck crashing into a bus stop where a woman was waiting with her young son. The woman was dead on arrival, but they had spent hours coding that little boy. When Jack finally called it, it’s followed by a strangled “Fuck!”. Samira offered to break the news to the boy’s father who had arrived mid-resuscitation but Jack insisted on going. They had all heard the anguished screaming and crying coming from the family room.
“You did everything you could.”
“I know,” He says as he takes another drag from his cigarette.
“But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Samira knows that Jack, like her, is the type of doctor who will always get hurt by the ones they lose. They can’t help but be haunted by the specters of their failures.
He finally looks at her. She’s grown used to his eyes on her, the weight of his stare from all the way across the Hub. It’s only grown heavier since PittFest.
“No, it doesn’t.” His voice warbles like he’s going to cry again.
Samira slides closer as he wipes at his eyes, pressing their sides together from their shoulders to their knees. She reaches her hand out, gesturing for the cigarette. Jack only hesitates for a beat before passing it to her.
“Don’t you know these things can kill you?” His voice comes out rough and gravelly. His eyes are fixated on her face as she wraps her lips around the filter. Samira holds his stare as she takes a long drag, blowing the smoke out of the side of her mouth.
“Yeah, but I just can’t help myself sometimes.”
Jack’s hand twitches in his lap, and his eyes flicker to her lips, so fast that Samira would have missed it if she had blinked at the wrong time. They’re suspended in time, the two of them just staring at each other.
“Jack,” Samira sighs out.
“Samira.”
Samira’s leaning towards him, giving into the gravitational pull that she’s been only vaguely aware of. Jack sways towards her like he’s being pulled in too.
“Jack, I-”
“Dr. Mohan, we need you in North 5!” Whitaker's voice cuts through the night, breaking whatever delicate spell that was cast over Samira and Jack as they jump apart.
“I’m coming!” Samira’s already back on her feet, smoothing out her clothes self-consciously.
“I’ll come too.”
Before Jack can move, Samira stops him with a hand on his knee. “Take a couple more minutes, Dr. Abbot. I got it.”
She sees him swallow before jerking his head down in a nod. “Thanks, Mohan.”
The cigarette that Samira had dropped at some point lays smouldering and forgotten as she turns to run in after Whitaker.
-
Pittsburgh gets hit with one of the worst snowstorms the city has ever seen during Samira’s last year of residency.
She’s able to get to work without much fuss but getting home is starting to look like another story. As she waits for her bus that’s already fifteen minutes late, Samira debates walking home in the storm versus going back into the hospital to beg Trinity to let Samira bunk with her overnight. They can take turns sleeping in Trinity’s designated hospital-provided cot. Maybe she can even clock in again once she gets a couple hours of rest.
The walk from the bus stop back to the hospital takes twice as long as usual, and Samira almost slips twice due to the snow and ice on the ground. She’s about to turn into the ambulance bay when she runs into Jack, presumably on his way home after covering the day shift for Dr. Al-Hashimi.
“Home’s the other way, Mohan. Didn’t you just finish a twenty-four?”
They had both unspokenly and independently decided not to talk about what almost happened in the ambulance bay that night.
There was an initial moment of awkwardness when Jack had first come back inside after their almost-kiss, a moment where Samira’s skin felt too tight for her body. Only a single beat in time where Samira had felt like she might have had to acknowledge how being around Jack made her feel but then it was over. Then they settled back comfortably back into the roles of mentor and mentee, back into the roles of friends.
Samira spent the rest of her R3 year pointedly not thinking about it. There were other things to worry about like the rumors of Langson diverting controlled substances, and the weird energy between Robby and Collins, and fellowship applications, and making plans to eventually move back home to be closer to her mom. The last thing she needed is to get distracted by a senior attending, no matter how nice she thinks his arms are. Especially when Jack treated her no differently from before. He still brings her coffee when she works nights or pulls a double. Still sends her interesting case reports from the newest issue of JEM. Still compliments her work in that voice of his that never fails to send shivers up her spine. Samira tries her best not to think about that night but if her mind wanders when she can’t sleep then that’s between her and her vibrator.
Now, she’s a senior resident and she should be settling in comfortably into the future that she has always imagined for herself but she just feels more unmoored than ever. Her mom selling the house to go on a year-long cruise with her new boyfriend has thrown a wrench in her plans and now she’s scrambling to re-evaluate what she wants. And the man standing in front of her right now is not helping to make her decision any easier.
“I don’t think the bus is coming anytime soon so it’s either sleep at the hospital or walk forty minutes home in this storm.”
Jack makes a face at the mention of her sleeping at the hospital, glancing behind him as EMS is wheeling a patient in. “You’re not going to get much rest on those shitty mattresses.”
The call room beds are already notoriously bad, cramped and lumpy, so she can’t imagine how the cots that admin had pulled out of long-term storage are going to be. Samira shrugs, trying to make her voice chipper as she says, “Well, beggars can’t be choosers.”
Jack gives her a small smile. “How about my place? I have a guest room. It’s not the Ritz but it’s better than a cot.”
Samira tries not to notice the way her pulse picks up at being invited into his home. “Oh no, I can’t intrude on you like that.”
“Not an intrusion at all. Besides, it’ll be a crime to deprive our best doctor of a proper bed.” When Samira still hesitates, he adds, “C’mon Samira, I’ll even make you dinner.”
In the end, the lure of a proper bed to sleep in and a hot meal wins Samira over.
Thankfully, it’s not long before Samira is stomping the snow off her boots on Jack’s welcome mat. His space is homey and cozy, complete with a deep couch and a coffee table piled high with books and medical journals. There’s pictures everywhere - on the walls, on his bookshelf, stuck to the fridge with magnets. It’s the home of someone who is loved and loves right back. She tries her best to not look like she’s snooping as she follows Jack into the guest bedroom, complete with an en-suite bathroom.
“Wait here.” Jack doesn’t wait for her to reply before leaving. Samira tests the mattress and it’s nice, definitely better than the cot that Trinity’s going to be sleeping in and probably better than her own bed at home. Even the sheets feel good between her fingertips, soft and with a higher thread count than anything she could afford for herself.
Jack comes back with a pile of things in his arms - towels, clothes, and bottles of product. “Sorry, you have to make do with the old man stuff that I have.”
“I’m sure it’s fine, Jack. Seriously. Thank you.”
“I’m going to make us some food. Take your time.” Jack’s eyes linger on her, an inscrutable look on his face, before closing the door.
It’s probably the nicest shower she’s taken in a long time, the water getting as hot as she likes (scalding) and the water pressure makes her own shower seem like a dribble in comparison. He’s given her a soft pair of sweatpants and an even softer t-shirt to change into. The army green t-shirt has Abbot stitch onto the left breast and Samira’s breath hitches at the thought of wearing something with his name on it even as she pulls it on. No underwear though and Samira didn’t have the foresight to keep a change in her bag. The last thing she wants to do is to put on her dirty underwear again so, biting her lip, Samira tugs on the sweatpants with nothing underneath.
When she wanders out into the kitchen, Jack's at the stovetop. He turns around at the sound of her footsteps and his eyes widen as he takes her in. She can feel the way his eyes drag down her body and Samira’s acutely aware that her nipples are pebbling up under his thin t-shirt.
Jack clears his throat and finally looks away. “Hope you don’t mind breakfast for dinner. Breakfast food after a shift is kind of ingrained in me now.”
As Samira settles on the bar stool, Jack places a plate of picture-perfect french toast in front of her, complete with a light dusting of powdered sugar.
“Wow, this looks amazing,” Samira says as she reaches for the cutlery that Jack slides over to her. “I love french toast.”
“Yeah, you always get it at the diner.”
Samira looks up from her plate. “What?”
Jack clears his throat again, flushing. “Whenever you get breakfast with us, you always get french toast.”
Breakfast after night shift is a long standing tradition whenever Jack works. She’s only ever been a few times, no matter how often Ellis bugs her to join them more. Samira is sure the french toast is delicious but she can barely taste anything as her mind runs away from her. He remembers her breakfast order. Her coffee order. He thinks she’s the best doctor in the Pitt (in that whole damn hospital) and consistently tells her so. He’s the hottest man she’s ever met.
“Are you excited for your new job in Jersey?”
Samira stops mid-chew as she processes the question. He doesn’t usually ask her questions about her personal life. Not that there’s much of a personal life to talk about. No, their conversations are dominated by patients they’ve seen or the latest case report that they’re passing back and forth. Jack’s not really looking at her, laser focused on his scrambled eggs.
“Actually, I’m turning it down.”
He looks up then, a pleased smile already growing on his face. “Really? What changed?”
“My mom sold our house and she’s going on a year-long cruise with her new boyfriend. If she isn’t there, then there’s no real reason for me to go back to Jersey.” All of Samira’s things are already waiting for her in a storage unit somewhere in Edison.
“So, what’re your plans after residency?”
“I… don’t know.”
Jack’s shoulders sag just a bit but it could be just Samira’s imagination.
“I had my whole career planned out and now that Jersey is off the table, I’m just feeling…,” Samira continues. They’re not even eating anymore, both of them too focused on the conversation. “I just don’t know what I want to do.”
“The Pitt would be lucky to have you as an attending.” He says it in the classic Jack Abbot way, quick and so assured of himself, in her abilities.
Samira sighs heavily. “I want to do a fellowship, just not sure which one. Dr. Al-Hashimi suggested geriatrics.”
“Well, you’re very good with your elderly patients.” Jack says with a soft smile while Samira’s stomach sinks just a little bit. She didn't expect Jack to agree with Dr. Al-Hashimi. But Samira should have trusted Jack because he continues, “But I guess I don’t see you being very… fulfilled doing that. Health policy maybe? You obviously have an interest in improving the system to better care for your patients. And it might provide you with an opportunity to start your research project again.”
Samira straightens up. This is the type of guidance she’s been looking for. Guidance from someone who understands her, sees her.
Jack is rambling now, oblivious to the change in Samira’s demeanor. “NYU and UCLA both have great programs. UPenn even, if you can stand to live in Philly.”
“Yeah, health policy does sound like something I would like.”
“But if you want more hands-on patient care, you should consider a surgical critical care fellowship. Those program directors will be begging you to join once you tell them that you’re the second person in the world to successfully aspirate an air embolism out of someone’s heart. And during a MCI no less. UMass has a great program but if you want, you can also try-”
“I’m actually considering staying in Pittsburgh.”
“Oh.” The sound leaves Jack’s chest in a whoosh. His face is flickering through multiple micro-expressions, ones that Samira don’t know quite how to interpret.
“Yeah.”
Jack clears his throat. “Presby has a disaster medicine fellowship. You can help set policies. Teach. Come back and make sure we’re prepared for the next disaster.”
“That… sounds amazing.”
“I think Dr. Redlener runs it. I’ll put in a good word.” Jack grins at her. “Not that you need it.”
They finish the rest of their meal in silence, both absorbed in their own thoughts before fighting over who gets to do the dishes and going to bed.
“I’m right there if you need anything,” Jack says, pointing to the last room at the end of the hall.
“Thanks, Jack. Good night.”
“Good night, Samira.”
They linger, both unwilling to pull away. He looks so different in the warm lighting of his own home, softer and younger. Samira wants to reach out and touch him, wants to feel the heat of him on her bare skin. Instead, she walks into the guest bedroom, and shuts the door behind her.
Samira brushes her teeth with a spare toothbrush that Jack’s given her before crawling into bed. She expected to knock out immediately but every time she closes her eyes, she hears Jack moving around his room. Samira tries to place what he’s doing with the sounds she’s hearing. A thunk that might mean he’s taken off his prosthetic. The sound of drawers opening. The rustling of clothes coming off. Water running.
She lays there, wanting. Samira is a woman used to denying herself, neglecting herself. She’ll skip eating to keep seeing patients, a seemingly neverending stream of them, each needing her grace, her attention, her care. Clock out late if they ask her not to go. Would leave Pittsburgh for her mom without her asking, almost leave Pittsburgh for a home that’s not even hers anymore.
She’s in his home, in his clothes. She wants to be in his bed. Samira wants him.
She finds herself standing outside Jack’s bedroom door, staring at the light coming through the gap at bottom as she works up the courage to knock.
“Samira, just come in,” Jack calls out, voice muffled through the thick wood doors.
When she opens the door, she finds him in bed, blankets pooling around his waist. He has reading glasses on, a book in his lap, illuminated by the soft glow of his bedside lamp. Samira’s heart squeezes at how unbearably domestic it is to see him like this.
“Something wrong?” Jack asks as he takes off the glasses, setting it along with his book on the bedside table.
“How did you know I was there?” Samira asks in lieu of answering. She takes the first shaky step into his room and then another.
“Saw your shadow in the crack.” Jack straightens up as she closes the door behind her. “Samira, what’s wrong?”
“I’m going to do something.” Samira slowly makes her way to him, noting the way he clenches his jaw as she gets closer. “I’m going to do something and if I’m wrong, you can tell me to fuck off.”
He levels her with a look, body tense. “I’ve rarely known you to be wrong, Samira.” His voice is rough. Samira wants to hear it panting against her ear.
With those words, Samira climbs onto the bed, straddling Jack before pulling him into a rough kiss. He stills for a beat, long enough for Samira to start to panic, but then Jack is melting under her and opening his mouth for her. The way he groans into her mouth sends a thrill through her.
“Sweetheart, do you know how long I’ve wanted this.” He has a hand in her hair, angling her head just right for him, and the other curled around her waist, pulling her even deeper into his lap.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
Jack Abbot has always been good at following instructions.
They kiss like they’re teenagers, messy and uncoordinated, as Samira grinds down into his rapidly growing cock. She’s making a mess of his sweatpants but she can’t stop, not when she has something hard and thick to bear down on, and not when she has Jack kissing hotly down the column of her throat.
Jack pulls away just enough to lift her shirt up, groaning low in his throat. He looks up at her with pleading eyes. “Baby, let me suck on your pretty tits?”
Samira whimpers as she nods and immediately his mouth is on her. She whines at the sting of his teeth, immediately soothed by his tongue, each bite going straight to her cunt.
She sinks a hand into his hair – soft, so soft – to use as leverage as she grinds down even harder on his cock. Samira can feel her orgasm rapidly approaching, each dirty grind bringing her closer to the edge.
It happens in an instant – the seam of his sweatpants catch on her clit just right as she’s rolling her hips against him – and she’s coming with a drawn-out groan. It’s been years since she’s had any kind of sexual contact with another person and she’s forgotten how nice it is to be able to clutch on to someone as she rides out her orgasm. Jack talks her through it, murmuring into her breasts how amazing she is, as she pants harshly against his hairline.
Her vision swims as Jack flips them over and she’s suddenly looking up at Jack’s flushed face. He's leaning over her, planting a forearm by her head to support his weight. He looks debauched, hair a mess from her hands and eyes glassy. She probably doesn’t look any better with his spit still drying on her exposed nipples and her pussy still dripping a mess in his sweatpants. Jack doesn’t look away from Samira as he sticks a hand into his boxer briefs, moaning out as he starts to stroke himself.
“Are you… are you not gonna fuck me?” Samira asks when she realizes that Jack isn’t making a move to touch her any further. He’s only working himself up higher and higher with each pass of his fist.
“No condom,” Jack pants out. “And maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought but I don’t think you have any in your work bag either.”
Samira doesn’t. Maybe she should add it to the growing list of things to keep in her workbag which now includes a change of underwear and her face wash.
“Can I see at least?” Samira all but whines.
Jack bites back a groan but he obliges her, pushing his underwear down enough to expose his cock. It’s thick like the rest of him, enough to make Samira’s mouth water as she imagines its weight on her tongue. There’s an angry looking vein running along the underside, leading to the bright red mushroom head that’s leaking precum like a faucet.
Samira starts to reach for his cock but Jack catches her hand before she could get to it, interlocking their fingers together before bringing the back of her hand to his mouth to press a quick kiss.
“Just let me look at you.” Jack whispers as his free hand starts stroking his cock again. She shivers at the intensity of his stare as his eyes rove over her face and body.
Samira’s not a virgin. She had a semi-serious boyfriend during undergrad and then another one in med school. She’s not one for one night stands or hooking up but she’s had sex before. She’s just never had sex quite like this. Where her partner doesn’t expect a performance out of her, breathy moans and gasping breaths and an arching back. Just Jack looking at her like she hung the moon and stars for him.
Samira doesn’t know what to do with that so she just says, “Let go for me, Jack.”
He clenches her hand tight, whimpering all the while, as he shoots thick ropes of come onto her stomach. It’s the hottest thing Samira’s ever seen.
Once Jack has caught his breath, instead of rolling off of her like Samira expects, he slides down her body. The first pass of his tongue over the mess that’s all over her stomach has Samira gasping.
“What’re you doing?”
Jack looks up at her, wicked grin on his face as he hooks his thumbs into her sweatpants to pull them down.
“Dr. Mohan, you know I’m the type of person who likes to clean up his own messes.”
-
Samira tries her best to not wake Jack up as she’s getting ready for her shift but he’s such a light sleeper that it’s a lost cause no matter how quiet she thinks she’s being.
She’s pulling on her compression socks when she feels his arm snaking around her middle.
“You’re going to be so early,” he mumbles, voice still rough with sleep.
“You are the last person who should be lecturing me about being early for my shift,” Samira says, laughing softly.
His hand worms its way under her scrub top, fingers dancing along her bare abdomen. She really should push him away. Even when Jack’s not there, she likes to ease her way into the shift and there’s always a patient or two left overnight, waiting for services that are only available during the daytime, who appreciate the little extra attention that Samira gives when she comes in early. But she doesn’t move to get up to put on her pants. Instead she’s silently hoping that Jack will trail his fingers up to pinch at her nipple.
“But when I go in early, there’s Samira Mohan waiting for me,” Jack argues back. “Come back to bed; it’s only a ten minute walk to the hospital.”
He finally reaches up to fondle a tit before rolling her nipple between his fingers. She can’t help the gasp that she lets out when he pulls with just the right amount of tension that goes straight to her cunt. It doesn’t take much more convincing for Samira to take off her clothes to straddle Jack’s hips.
If only Cassie could see her now, giving in to lust.
“Ride me?” he asks, grinning as he grips her hips.
“Lazy,” she says, flicking his nose playfully like he hadn’t spent multiple hours the previous night putting her through the mattress in increasingly acrobatic positions.
He’s already hard when she pushes the blanket away. Samira gives him a couple strokes with her hand anyway just to hear the hitch in his breathing before angling his cock in just the right angle for her to sink down onto. They had ditched the condoms as soon as Samira got her IUD placed and both their blood panels came back negative.
Samira can’t help the whine she lets out at the stretch of Jack’s cock as she bottoms out. They’re fucking every free moment that they can get for the past two months but it’s always a stretch. (Samira had confessed at one point, cockdrunk and delirious, that he was the biggest she’s ever had. Jack had shot off inside of her right then and there, whimpering and shaking through his orgasm.) Jack watches her as she squirms on his lap with an arm thrown back behind his head, grinning with his lower lip between his teeth.
“Enjoying the view?” Samira asks as she gives an experimental roll of her hips.
“You know I am, sweetheart.”
Samira has never been with a man that likes looking at her as much as Jack Abbot does. Even when he’s coming, his eyes flutter as he fights against the urge to squeeze them shut in pleasure. He stares openly at her: when she’s under him, when she’s making coffee in his kitchen, when she’s walking through the Hub for a debrief. Samira ignores the way her stomach flips every time she looks up from charting to find his eyes already on her.
She’s worked herself up into a rhythm now, bouncing on his cock as she touches her clit. Usually, she’ll start slow and teasing but she really does have to get to work.
“Hurry up and come.”
Jack is still frustratingly composed, breathing only just starting to get heavy. Samira isn’t above coming on her own, leaving him hard and wanting, but there’s something wholly satisfying about making Jack lose control.
“Slow and steady wins the race, Mohan.”
Hearing that line – the line he uses to defend her when he doesn’t even know that she’s listening – just makes her go faster, fuck him a little harder. She wants him to make a mess of her.
“Don’t you want to know that I have your come dripping into my panties when I walk into the Pitt? When I’m talking to Robby?”
Jack stares at her for a moment, eyes widening just a touch as he clenches his jaw, before groaning, deep and low in his throat. Samira feels his abdominal muscles tighten and then he’s crunching up to a sitting position with an ease that just makes her more wet. Jack grabs her hips, pulling her down to grind on his cock, and captures her lips in a deep kiss, tongue licking into her mouth.
“You are a little brat,” Jack growls when he finally pulls away. Whatever retort Samira was going to say dies on her lips as Jack uses the tight grip he has on her hips to pick her up and drop her back down onto his cock. Samira lets Jack guide her movements, the muscles of his arms bulging out deliciously each time he picks her hips up, and instead focuses on sucking on his lower lip, arms around his broad shoulders. In this new position, he’s hitting that spot inside of her perfectly and her clit drags along his pelvis each he lifts her up.
“Gonna come,” Samira mumbles as she pulls away from him.
Jack bumps his forehead against hers. “Let me feel it, baby.”
Samira falls over the edge, muffling her cries into Jack’s shoulder, and then Jack is filling her up with a choked off groan.
She lets him hold her in his lap as they both catch their breath, enjoying the afterglow as Jack presses wet kisses down the line of her throat.
“No marks,” She murmurs into his temple, the smell of his shampoo filling her nostrils.
“I’ll be careful.”
Samira gets to the Pitt with fifteen minutes to spare, thighs sticky with Jack and sore in all the best ways.
It’s not a bad day. The wait in Chairs is mostly manageable and the floors are taking their admissions with minimal pushback. In fact, it slows down enough in the early afternoon that Samira finds herself taking a snack break with Trinity in the staff lounge.
“Next month, Huckleberry, Crash, and I are going to check out that new club that opened up downtown. Mel might come if she can find someone to stay with Becca for the night. Joy too. You in?”
Samira pauses mid-bite. Sorts through her mind of all the nicknames that Trinity likes to hand out like candy. Huckleberry, Dennis. Crash, Victoria.
“Next month is pretty far out to be planning a group outing.”
“You know how it is with everyone’s schedules.”
Samira doesn't know how it is. “Thanks for the invite but I’ll pass.”
“That’s cool.” Trinity takes a long sip of her coffee as she considers Samira. “I thought maybe you would want to come out with us this time since you’ve seemed kind of different.”
Samira frowns. She didn’t think she was acting any different. “Different how?”
“More relaxed.” Trinity smirks at her. “You finally getting laid?”
Samira’s glad she had already finished her protein bar because otherwise she might have choked on it. It does amaze Samira just how perceptive Trinity can be.
“I’m always relaxed.” Samira starts picking up her trash, suddenly desperate to get away from this conversation.
“Please, you walk around here like the world is going to end if you’re not doing something for a patient.”
“Thanks for the offer but maybe next time.”
“Don’t think that I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer the question!” Trinity calls out after her as the door slams shut.
Jack isn’t her direct supervisor but Samira suspects that it would still be pretty frowned upon if administration finds out that they’re sleeping together.
She’s having fun with Jack. She’s having fun for once. And yes, Samira is aware that she could be having fun with someone who’s not involved in the hospital hierarchy or with someone closer to her own age but she doubts that there’s anyone out there who will eat her out with the enthusiasm that Jack does. They’re two lonely people keeping each other company. She will have to kiss him goodbye at some point but for now, Samira is luxuriating in doing something selfish for herself, for picking the option she wants even if it’s ill-advised.
Besides, Samira likes having someone waiting for her when she finishes her shift. It’s comforting to walk through the door after being on her feet for twelve hours to smell of a hot dinner that’s being prepared for her.
“Hey, baby.” Jack smiles at her from the stovetop. “How was it today?”
“Can’t complain.” Samira sets her bag down by the door before toeing off her shoes. “Do I have time to shower?”
“Go ahead.”
It’s second nature now to walk into Jack’s bedroom and pull out one of his t-shirts. To grab her sleep shorts from the pile of her clothes that’s accumulated in the last two months. At some point, Jack had asked about her preferred products and they’d shown up in his shower the next day.
Jack’s plating their dinner by the time Samira makes it back out into the kitchen. They eat, sitting on the island bar stools, Jack listening intently as she talks about her day. It’s not until he’s clearing her plate that she notices it.
“Where’s your ring?”
Jack’s wedding band is ever-present. The only time he takes it off is in the shower. Now, there’s just a ring of pale skin on his finger.
Jack ducks his head, shy as he touches his ring finger. “I figured it was time, since…”
Samira can feel the dinner she just ate start to turn to stone in her stomach. “Since what, Jack?”
“Since… I’m in love with you.” He’s smiling at her now. He’s smiling at her, the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looks at her with a softness that makes Samira want to throw up.
“You’re in love with me?” Samira shoots to her feet, suddenly finding it unbearable to be still. “What do you mean you’re in love with me?”
“What do I mean?” Jack furrows his brow as he finally registers Samira’s distress, her manic energy as she paces around his kitchen. “Samira, what’s wrong?”
“I thought this– us– I thought we were just having fun.” She can feel her heart pounding, her ears ringing as she struggles to control her breathing.
There’s a pause as Jack processes her words.
“You said you wanted to stay in Pittsburgh.” His tone is accusatory. She’s going to be sick.
Samira does want to stay in Pittsburgh. Anywhere else and she’ll be starting from scratch again. She doesn’t know if she’s strong enough for that. She had applied for Presby’s disaster medicine fellowship in Jack’s bed, sitting in Jack’s lap, with Jack’s arms hugging her tight as he kissed behind her ear and murmured how brilliant she is and how lucky Presby would be to have her.
God, she fucked up.
“Samira,” Jack continues when she doesn’t say anything. “You have a drawer in my dresser. You have a key to my house. You haven’t been back to your apartment in two weeks.”
Being at Jack’s place is easier. It’s closer to the hospital. She doesn’t want to go back to her empty, sterile apartment after a shift. She wants to wake and be able to reach out to feel the leftover heat from Jack’s body as he does yoga in his living room.
“I’m sorry.” Samira wishes she can go back in time and not bring up his missing ring. Jack’s not looking at her anymore, has turned his back to her. “Jack, I… I… I thought we were on the same page.”
Samira watches as Jack takes a big breath, blowing it slowly out of his mouth.
“It’s not your fault.” Jack says, voice cracking just a bit. “I made assumptions about your feelings on my own and that’s on me.”
“Jack.” She doesn’t think she’s ever hated herself more than right now.
“It’s okay, Samira. I’ll be fine. But,” He finally turns back to look at her, eyes watery. “I think you should go back to your place tonight.”
He says tonight like there’s a chance she’s going to find herself invited back into his home again.
Samira replays all of their interactions as she stuffs as many of her clothes as she can into her work bag. Should she have known? All of the coffees, the texts, the midnight kisses, the way he looked at her every time he pushed his cock inside of her. She graduated at the top of her class in medical school but she may be the most oblivious person in the world.
He’s waiting for her by his front door when she’s done. “I’ll drive you home.”
The last thing she wants is to sit in the awkward, stilted silence for the twenty minute drive back to her place. “I’ll be fine getting home on my own.”
Jack nods, digging his hands into his pockets as he watches her slip into her shoes. She’s halfway out the door when he stops her. “Samira, I just want you to know that this won’t change anything at work. You’re still our best doctor and this doesn’t change that.”
She can feel the pinprick of tears forming behind her eyes. This is so like him, to be unbearably kind even with his heart broken.
She wets her lips before answering, voice shaky. “I appreciate that, Jack.”
His arm twitches like he wants to reach for her but he just digs his hands deeper into his pockets. “Get home safe, Samira.”
Jack is a man of his word and he doesn’t treat her any differently in the Pitt. But he doesn’t put the ring back on his finger. Jack just endures the relentless questioning from Princess, the looks from Dana, and the gossip that flies around.
He still comes in an hour early before his shift, still calls for her when EMS rolls in a trauma, still says Excellent work when it’s all over. But there’s no more coffees, no more case reports waiting for her at her favorite work station, and no more leftovers in the fridge with a sticky note with her name on it. Just a bag of her belongings that she had forgotten that he leaves in her locker. He’s known the combo since before PittFest.
“Did something happen?” Trinity asks her a month after that disastrous night. “You’ve been so irritable.”
“I’m always a delight.” Samira deadpans. She’s tired. And hungry. And the light from the computer is burning her eyes. She’s had a horrible day. All she wants to do is to go home, take a mediocre shower, and pass out in her mediocre bed.
“Well, I’m here if you wanna talk.” Trinity does her the courtesy of keeping her eyes trained on her own computer. She really is a good person.
“Thanks.” Samira sighs out. “I think today’s just been rough.”
“Dr. Abbot.” Dr. Al-Hashimi calls out from behind her and Samira tenses up. She doesn’t look up from her keyboard but she can hear his uneven gait as he gets closer. Can smell his cologne as he walks past her. “You’re early.”
Samira can’t help but eavesdrop.
“Can’t sleep. I thought I'd might as well get you out of here early for your son’s game.”
“I really appreciate that.” Dr. Al-Hashimi’s voice is warm, friendly. “By the way, I found a sitter if you still want to grab a drink this weekend.”
“Drinks sound great.”
Dr. Al-Hashimi and Jack had obviously built a good rapport together while Robby’s out. They work well together as the senior attendings in the ED. There’s a small bet that’s slowly gaining traction on if they were going to eventually sleep together. Samira has never paid those rumors any mind but now, she can’t help the pit that’s formed in her stomach.
“Trinity, if the offer is still on the table, I would love to join you guys at the club this weekend.”
Trinity looks up then, surprised. “Yeah, for sure. I’ll send you the details?”
“Sounds great!” Samira says, forcing her voice to sound chipper and excited.
Jack can get drinks with Dr. Al-Hashimi. Jack can do whatever he wants, sleep with whoever he wants.
Samira can too.