Chapter Text
It started out as a normal day, long and arduous but satisfying. Mostly normal cases sprinkled with traumas and rushing. Santos had convinced her to go out for the night, and so here she was dressed in a borrowed outfit and at a bar she didn't want to be at. It was better than being home alone listening to the TV. Again. Santos hadn’t wanted to go home either. At least it was a cute dress all things considered; a little dark blue one shouldered number that barely seemed to cover her thighs. Trinity had done her makeup and just letting her hair out of its braid gave it a curl. It seemed like she always ended up in things Trinity would never actually wear, leaving her wondering where the other woman had gotten these things.
Mel was here because Garcia had ditched Trinity; again. Whatever their situationship was, it was none of her business... except that it was hurting her friend. All she could do was what she was doing now; support her in whatever manner as needed.
Which was why she was here, dancing at a bar that was way too loud.
Then something that sounded like a series of loud pops went off. Mel and Trinity both stepped closer together as the music cut out and a group of masked men entered the space and took up all the available doors. There was no way out now. There were armed men between them and the doors.
“Just do as I say and nobody gets hurt. Get on the ground.” Everyone complied. A man came around with a basic black tote bag. “Cell phones, watches, jewelry, wallets.”
Mel was great in a crisis; it was what made her such a great emergency doctor but this was out of her scope. Her phone came out of the clutch she was carrying and she unstrapped her watch, leaving them with no way to communicate with the outside. She put everything into the bag when it came to her but apparently it wasn’t good enough; there was a rifle in her face.
“The bag.”
She dropped it.
They moved on to Trinity, who cooperated without a word. Once they had everything the man on the bar spoke again. “This is just a robbery. It doesn’t need to go wrong.” They were emptying the registers behind the bar and headed to the back. Mel assumed they were hitting the offices. Her hands were shaking as they began to rub over her arms repeatedly. The motion was soothing in the middle of chaos.
“HEY!” A raised voice made Mel and Trinity both look up to see someone who looked like the manager on the phone, successfully making that call...right up until they shot him. The sound of the gun was impossibly loud in the space and Mel knew she would remember this moment forever. Fear raced through her brain but she stood and began to move towards the man just to find that same rifle in her face. She pulled up short but gestured to the man on the ground.
“I’m an emergency doctor, let me go.” Her voice was firm and the steadiness in her voice surprised her; it didn’t shake or waver. “He needs medical attention.”
The man on the bar answered her. “Sorry girlie. He made his choice.”
Mel could feel Santos practically vibrating with the need to race over. This was what they did, after all. They saved people. They saved lives. And now...now they couldn’t do what their training demanded of them. They could save him if they got there quickly enough. The man was right there and he needed them so badly but neither of them could run over and save him. They were just as stuck as he was.
--
There were sounds of the register being smashed open, cursing from the back as they struggled with what she assumed was a safe. This was taking longer than they had wanted and the longer the men waited to leave the more likely it was the police would show up and things would go haywire. The manager’s call had gotten through.
There was a sound outside that made all the men with masks look up; sirens. This was now a serious hostage situation. There was the sound of a voice through a megaphone.
“This is the Pittsburgh police, lay down your weapons and come out with your hands up.”
There was an answer all right. They dragged the still-living manager to the entrance and threw him out before barricading the door again. Something loosened in Mel’s chest; at least he’d get medical attention now. But now...they were totally fucked. They were herded into the center of the room, with her and Trinity on the outside of the knot of people. They'd even taken her hearing protection. They'd taken everything.
--
The standoff lasted for hours. Mel had long since removed her shoes and sat next to Trinity on the dirty bar floor. She wasn’t particularly religious but almost wished she was. Having someone to pray to right now would be nice. The blonde was rubbing her arms repeatedly as varying demands came through the door, all of them ignored.
Something in the air changed. Some small difference triggered her notice and made her duck and pull Trinity down with her. Seconds later the windows smashed in and bullets began to fly. The sound was incredible even as something pierced her, burning into her side and sending her dizzyingly flat to the ground. She touched her side and it came away bloody. Mel saw Trinity’s face above her and felt pressure along her side. Things were getting strange. Men were being thrown to the ground or falling from being shot, and suddenly there was a medic in her face, hands lifting her body, and a gurney was suddenly under her. Mel couldn’t pin down what was wrong or why everyone was panicking. Sure, things were going fuzzy around the edges and that burning was increasing and taking up her entire brain but it was just stress. Or so she thought until she saw Trinity’s face receding in the background standing there with bloody hands and she felt a prick of an IV along her arm. The last thing she thought of before she passed out was what a waste of a dress.
--
Doctor Jack Abbot was on duty as usual, but the ring of the red phone called his attention.
"PTMC Medic Command. Go Ahead." His charge nurse caught his eyes. “Hostage situation with gunshots, three minutes out. At least three.”
Alright then. Into the trauma gowns. Into the gloves. Into the ambulance bay. Into that particular, peculiar mode of thought that allowed him to make those split second decisions, the thoughts that allowed him to save as many people as he possibly could. Now he was just waiting. He was used to this. Gunshot wounds were his bread and butter back in the day and he had so much help behind him now that he wasn’t overly worried about it. The screaming of the ambulance took his attention and he zeroed in on the first one he saw. The doors were flung open and the gurney brought down to the ground.
His heart dropped as he recognized the face. It was Mel King, hair down and blood soaked the sheet under her side. Her skin was waxen and colorless, leaving her as a ghost of a woman. For a moment, just a moment, he flashed back in time to a place where he’d lost a girl like this. A girl just like Mel had died under his hands years ago and it wouldn’t happen again. Mel King was one of the day shift residents currently wearing an excuse of a dress and massive amounts of blood. Her vitals were terrible as they wheeled her into Trauma One, her blood pressure plummeting and her heart rate skyrocketing and he snagged Ellis on the run. Abbot put the sinking in his heart away. He’d worked on people he’d known before but it still felt weird to cut off her clothing.
“Shit.” The portable ultrasound showed a completely lacerated liver and a kidney. No wonder she was bleeding. Then they got to work. So they worked and worked until they found something that slowed the bleeding. They stabilized her, as was their job, taking care of both of her wounds while waiting for surgery to get their on-call asses down here. A tired, on-call Garcia burst into the room like a surgical whirlwind, gowning as she went.
“Sorry I’m late, I'm covering. What’ve we got?”
“One of ours. Mel King, liver lac and kidney. Get her up.” The doctor’s voice was short and clipped and he was covered in blood. Mel’s blood. Somehow it just hit him harder than usual. Maybe it was how young she was. Maybe... no. Don’t compare her to that girl he lost. Also...definitely don’t think about the body usually hidden under the scrubs. Or that dress. The girl was dying for fuck’s sake. This was not the time to wonder how her scrubs and loose shirt she usually wore hid her form. The aides and Garcia got the gurney up and he watched them take her upstairs to surgery. The last thing he needed to be thinking about was how she looked outside of her scrubs.
Jack was the last one out of the room where he just stood, staring at his hands. The pressure on his leg was building but he wasn’t done with his shift yet. The veteran shook his head as he stripped from the trauma gown; he’d worked on his own folks before in much worse circumstances but for some reason this one would stay with him. Maybe it was because he knew what she was capable of. He’d seen her at work when she stayed late, unwilling to go home to a dark and empty apartment. He recognized the feeling and he always let her stay; they could usually use the help. She always did her charts and often helped with others. Mel was a good kid. She was a good doctor.
She was lonely.
He recognized that. Soul to soul he recognized it but he would never say a word about it. It would be inappropriate at best and a secret he’d take to his grave. The other residents didn’t have that ache of something missing. Mel definitely did.
Abbot realized he was still standing alone in Trauma One.
The man shook it off and returned to work. There were lives to save.
--
It didn’t stop him from clocking out a little early and going up to the ICU to check on Mel. Jack was telling himself that he was doing this because she was one of his residents. That he’d check on Ellis or even Shen, or anyone who worked under him. This was no different. No other reason existed.
She looked so fragile in the bed, her hair a soft golden halo and wearing a cannula as an IV slowly dripped into her arm. Jack pulled up a stool and settled in, pulling out his phone to text Robby and tell him everything that happened and that Mel would be out of work for a little while, and that they would both need to speak for her to the residency board and to pretty please come by the ICU. It was during that conversation that Mel woke up, very confused and exhausted.
--
The pain was minimal compared to before, with the hazy memories of gunshots and Trinity holding pressure and Ellis’ face hovering over her, Abbot popping off orders in a sharp staccato. Not much in the middle there and definitely nothing after it. Surfacing was like swimming upwards through a current and when she did finally surface she found a face she wasn’t expecting.
“Doctor Abbot?” Her voice was so weak and small and dry. “What...what happened? Why are you here?”
The man put his phone away and swiveled to face her more fully. He resisted the temptation to move her hair out of her face (where the fuck had that come from?). “You and Santos were at a bar and it got robbed. You got shot in the take down, kidney and liver. It’s okay. Santos is fine and you’re fine. We got you in time. You lost your kidney but you can do just fine with one.”
“Mmm...okay.” Then something clicked and she tried desperately to sit up, only to find that agony went through her body. She felt Abbot’s hand on her shoulder pushing her gently back down as she was gasping out “Somebody needs to call Middle Hill...I need to talk to Becca. Tell her I’m okay. I’m supposed to pick her up tomorrow-”
Abbot pushed her back down again, trying to make his voice as soothing as he could. She’d just been told she’d lost a kidney and her first thought was her sister; this kid was special. He didn’t do soothing very well, unfortunately. “We’ll figure it out, Mel. Take it easy.”
Nurses were rushing in as a response to her vitals spiking.
“It’s okay, Mel.” Jack moved out of the way. “I’m sure you’ll get a ton of people willing to help once they figure out you’re here.”
--
Something in his tone made her believe that everything would be okay. Melissa allowed herself to be pushed back into the bed and felt something go through her IV, felt the edges of her vision slipping away. She thought she heard him say “I’ll check on you tomorrow” but that couldn’t be possible. Abbott didn’t get invested in anything, it was part of what made him Abbott. Her last thought before going under was that hand had felt really nice.