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For the thirty plus years Dana Evans has worked at PTMC, she has seen everything. Broken bones, bloody noses, necrotizing fasciitis, psychotic breaks, COVID, births, deaths—the list is endless, and will grow for as long as she remains a nurse. She has saved lives and put hers on the line in the face of explosive patients, always making sure it’s her they go after and none of her staff. She will gladly take a punch or two if it means her nurses stay out of the line of fire. Let it be known it has never been said that Dana Evans is not someone to rely on. Robby may be the captain of the Pitt, but everyone knows it’s really Dana who keeps the ship running smoothly, who has an eye on every crew member and has a sixth sense of picking up on when the tide is turning, whatever it may be.
Dana Evans knows her hospital. She knows her work. She knows her people.
She knows that Jack Abbot and Samira Mohan are in love with each other. She knows that they are very well aware of their own feelings. She also knows those two fools are completely oblivious to how the other feels. Two of the smartest people she knows, who cannot seem to figure out what’s right in front of them.
At first, it was wonderful to see. She has known Jack for many years; a good man, who has not quite been hardened by the arguably shitty hand life has dealt him, but has been a bit broken by it. A man who advocates for his patients, who will always do what’s best for them whether or not it aligns with standard protocol, who will be the first to jump in front of a bullet to protect others—both physically and metaphorically. He is a man of honor, of a preceding reputation. She has seen him be a man in love, a man widowed, a man grieving. She has never felt more pride, more relief, more delight, to see him be a man in love once again.
Even if he is a bit helpless at it.
Dana is not too prideful where she cannot admit that she hadn’t seen it coming—not at first. But, for all knowing, all seeing, as she is, how was she supposed to see that when Samira Mohan would step foot into Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center—bright doe eyes that still held a keen sharpness, with a burning enthusiasm to learn—as a medical student all these years ago, that she would be the one to breathe life back into Jack Abbot?
It had taken them around a week to meet, since Samira had started her rotation in the ED. Dana remembers it clearly—can envision it even now, as she stands at the Hub, as it had been where she was standing when she first saw them. Jack had just returned from a week away, marking the sixth anniversary of Claire Abbot’s passing, which was par for the course after his wife died. It was about the only vacation time he ever took in the aftermath, getting away from the bustle of the city to get his head on straight, the time surrounding Claire’s passing always stirring up old ghosts he always thought he had abandoned until they crept back.
But he always strode back into his next scheduled shift like a man on a mission, as though he had been spending the time preparing himself to return to work, to save lives without being disrupted by his own. Black scrubs, white undershirt, and his army backpack slung over one shoulder as he walked through the sliding doors, never taking the other entrance. He always liked to enter right into the ED, where the action always was, so he could jump into the fray immediately.
That day, Dana remembers, he had walked in while Dana had the phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, on a call with facilities to come down and fix the staff lounge fridge because putting in a ticket into the system was getting them fuck all. She remembers, clear as day, that Samira had been at one of the workstations with Dr. Adamson, who was showing her how to chart while Robby was curiously avoiding Collins and helping Langdon with a case, when Jack had walked up. Returned Dana’s greeting wink with a twitching mouth before Adamson clapped Jack on the shoulder.
“Let me introduce you to our new and brilliant med student. This is student doctor Samira Mohan,” Adamson had introduced, a smile that Dana always saw as nothing but warm as he gestured towards the young woman. “Dr. Mohan, this is Dr. Jack Abbot, our night shift attending. Hell of a doctor, and an even better man.”
At the time, Dana had thought nothing of it. Perhaps it was because she was half distracted by facilities bullshitting her on the other end of the phone. Otherwise, she knows she would have picked up on the small smile that did appear on Jack’s face the moment his gaze landed on Samira. She would have noticed the softening of the lines around his eyes, familiar markings of grief seeming to disappear as his shoulders—soldier’s shoulders, broad and tense and straight—seemed to relax as he held his right hand out in the space between him and the med student.
“Dr. Mohan. Pleasure to meet you. You’ve already got Dr. Adamson singing your praises, which can only mean good things.” His words were smooth and good natured. Nothing out of the ordinary. The man could be blunt and never beat around the bush, but he was rarely ever rude. This was no different. Maybe that’s why Dana didn’t pick up on it.
“Dr. Abbot.” Samira had shook his head in return and, well, when Dana thinks about it now, she wishes she had seen it then. Wishes she hadn’t been so distracted on the phone to notice the sudden jump of Jack’s throat the moment Samira’s hand grasped his. Or maybe she could have noticed the shift in his expression that was so minute, only someone who knew him well could have picked up on it. Not Samira, not then. But definitely Dana. She had missed it, the way his lips had pursed, his shoulders tightening once again. A soldier’s form, in the presence of someone above them on the hierarchy ladder. Samira. Even back then.
“It’s great to meet you, too,” she had said, her smile friendly but professional, showing off dimples that Dana had thought would come in handy in charming patients. She had been right, of course. “I’ve read your publication on mental health utilization among veterans, as well as the paper you co-authored on the use of suppressive antibiotics after prosthetic joint infection—incredible work. I’d love to pick your brain on some research I’ve been doing, if you ever have the time.”
They were still hand in hand. Jack was looking at her as though he was trying to make sense of the world around him. Freshly returned from a trip to pull himself together, and he already looked like he was unraveling. So, yes, maybe Dana had noticed. Filed it away in a corner of her mind where she keeps boxes for all of her people, checking in when needed. Maybe she was giving Jack the benefit of the doubt, given that Claire’s anniversary had just passed and even though he’s rip-roaring to get back to work, it takes him a bit to find his balance again—
“Sure,” Jack had said, mouth twitching like there was more to say but he couldn’t decide what until he settled on a simple, “We’ll figure it out.”
—but Samira had been bright eyed and eager and whip-smart—and Dana should have known that was only the beginning of it all for Jack.
Now, when Dana sees Jack walk into the ED on the evening of August 18th, she knows that the schedule she had taken a peek at when she came in for the night shift she was covering for Bridget hadn’t had some kind of error. In ten years, Jack has not worked this day or the next—this week . His PTO is always approved at the beginning of the year, schedules changed to accommodate that they’d be without one night shift attending for the week.
So as he approaches the Hub, Dana hangs up the phone—always on the fucking phone, never with anyone who doesn’t drive her up the damn wall—and puts her hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”
The corner of his mouth tips up. “Good evening to you too,” Jack returns wryly, letting the strap of his backpack fall off his shoulder before he slings it behind the nurse’s station. The man rarely ever uses his locker. He raises an eyebrow at her when he straightens, and Dana notices the tray of three coffees he holds. “I work here, in case you forgot. Here.” He picks up one of the coffee cups and hands it to her.
“My memory’s better than yours,” is Dana’s quick reply, taking the hot cup from him and raising it in thanks. Arches her own eyebrow. “You doin’ okay?”
There’s not a significant shift in his expression. There’s no downward tilt of his lips, no bags under his eyes or a hollowness in them. Jack dips his chin in a nod. “I’m fi—Dr. Mohan.”
Both of Dana’s eyebrows go up as she takes a slow sip of her hot coffee, watching over the lid of the cup as Jack takes a few long strides towards Samira, who is walking out of Central 10, rubbing her hands together after dispensing sanitizer into them. Dana’s body turns, unsubtly, to watch Jack approach the resident, her smile hidden behind her cup as she watches him pick up one from the tray and hold it out for her.
Watches, with a combination of amusement and fondness, as Samira smiles at him as she takes the coffee and, this fuckin’ guy, watches as the back of Jack’s neck pinkens in response. “You don’t have to get me a coffee every time I pull a double, you know,” Samira is saying to him with a small huff of a laugh, comforting familiarity in her voice and warmth in those big brown eyes. It’s a wonder Jack is still standing, if Dana is being honest.
Jack picks up his own coffee before letting the tray hang at his side. “Well, can’t have my best resident falling asleep on shift, can I?” he returns. Though his tone tries for nonchalance, Dana hears the weight of the truth. Always honest. Except for when it matters.
Front the way Samira’s eyes widen at him, she knows he’s being too honest. “You can not say that when Ellis is around here somewhere,” she insists, clearly trying to stifle a smile. Dana bets she’s probably blushing too, the poor thing, as she moves past Jack to approach the Hub. Dana doesn’t bother pretending she’s not watching them, leaning back against the desk with one arm crossed while she holds her coffee.
Jack scoffs as he turns to follow after Samira, unbothered as always. “Ellis could give a fuck about being my best resident,” he says.
Samira throws him a dry look that Dana knows she would never throw at Robby. Not yet. She suspects it’s only a matter of time before Samira gives Robby a deserved piece of her mind. Dana just hopes she’s there to support—and watch. But at this moment, Dana clocks, not for the first time, the intimacy of it all. The way Samira and Jack walk side by side, enough distance for plausible deniability but still close to brush arms.
“What makes you think I care about being your favorite resident?” Samira asks as she puts the cup down to log into her workstation, her tone a fascinating combination of curiosity and flirtatious. Dana wonders if Samira even realizes it herself. Neither of them seem to even notice Dana watching them as Jack comes to stand next to Samira, watching her click away on the keyboard.
Jack leans his free hand against the desk right next to her, eyes bright in the way that Dana has noticed are only in such a state around Samira. Notices the smile tugging on Samira’s lips that only makes an appearance around Jack. These fucking two . “Doesn’t matter if you care or not,” Jack hums, bringing his cup towards his mouth. “You already are, Dr. Mohan.”
Samira’s gaze snaps to him, fingers stilling on the keyboard, and Dana has to stop herself from choking on her sip of coffee. Jesus Christ—he’s forgone any sense of subtlety, either forgetting that they are in the middle of the ED, or simply uncaring. Possibly both, judging by how his gaze never strays from Samira, a silent conversation occurring between the two that no one is privy to. Dana is also almost certain that Samira is blushing , a feat on its own, as Dana knows she hasn’t seen Samira blush often, if ever, in the years she has worked at PTMC.
Right now, though, Dana sees the pink deepening in Samira’s cheeks as she gapes at Jack, the tension a little too obvious, breaking away from the bubble around them and permeating the air beyond. Dana takes a quick glance at the board and says, “Abbot, there’s a possible broken hip and concussion with your name on it in South 15. Get a move on.”
She is utterly intrigued by the way his gaze slowly slides away from Samira, taking his time to take his eyes off of her. When he looks at Dana, she merely raises her eyebrows and jerks her chin, keeping her own incredulity off her face. Jack dips his chin in an acknowledging nod and pushes away from the desk, his gaze once again meeting Samira’s, who presses her teeth together, judging by the flutter of her jaw, before Jack walks off. Samira watches him go until he disappears out of sight, turning her attention back to the screen with rapidly blinking eyes. Her gaze seems to linger on the coffee cup sitting next to her. Smiles to herself before returning her attention to continue charting.
Dana has been watching the two of them for years, at this point. In all the ways Jack Abbot is enthralled by Samira Mohan, she is just as mesmerized by him.
She hopes, desperately with a heart full of love for those two, that they are not as oblivious and hopeless as they seem.
For all intents and purposes, it’s a relatively normal shift. They get their usual cases of sick babies and panicking parents, drunks, slips. Only two major traumas so far, both of which are up in surgery or recovering in the ICU.
It’s a normal shift as Dana watches Jack function through it all like it’s any other night, from patient to patient, solid as always and never faltering.
It’s a normal shift as she watches Jack gently bats Samira’s hands away so he can tie the neck strings of her trauma gown for her as they wait for that first trauma to arrive and Samira—painfully obvious to Dana—suppresses the smile that threatens to grow.
It’s a normal shift as her eyes widen, a shout caught in her throat, when Samira slips on the floor that’s just been mopped—and Jack appears out of nowhere to catch Samira before she can truly fall. An arm around her waist, his other hand grabbing hers, as though he is dipping her in a slow dance.
It’s a normal shift when Dana catches Samira’s gaze lingering on Jack from where she can see him in one of the patient rooms while she stands at her workstation, her task momentarily forgotten as she watches him easily charm a patient, entranced at the spot.
So, yes, it’s a normal shift, despite the date also being a constant reminder in the back of Dana’s head. And if she remembers it, she has no doubt that Jack does, too. Despite it all being so normal .
So, Dana seeks Samira out, finding her in the bathroom, approaching the sink, halfway through the shift.
“Hey, you take your break yet?” Dana asks, crossing her arms and leaning her side against the tiled wall.
Samira looks over at her as she washes her hands, her hair clipped back neatly as always. “I’m about to, I swear,” she promises, because she has to—because Dana sometimes has to drag her tooth and nail to sit down in the staff lounge and eat something more than a protein bar.
Dana nods, her gaze darting to the stalls, folding forward a bit to make sure they are empty before dragging her gaze back to Samira. “Did you know Abbot would be working today?”
To her credit, Samira doesn’t falter in washing her hands, dispensing soap in one of her palms. “Yes. He told me during the last shift change he’d be here,” she answers easily. Even glances over at Dana with a confused expression as she asks, “Why?”
Dana fights her own smile, amused and a little bit impressed, before the smile falters. “You know what today is.”
Not a question. She doesn’t do Samira the disservice of posing it as such because not only has Samira been working here long enough—particularly with Jack—to know the significance of this day, but because this is Samira . She has to know. Dana might go out there and give Jack a good shake if she doesn’t know, and a smack to the back of the head for good measure.
Samira, in turn, pauses for a brief moment, her gaze on her hands. She finishes washing off the soap, hitting the knob closed before she pulls out some paper towels. Licks her lips as she dries her hands and sighs, “I do.”
There’s a weight in those words and Dana knows exactly why. Had seen Samira looking towards him, which is nothing new whenever those two are on shift together, eyes always seeking the other out even when they think they’re being subtle. But tonight, Dana had picked up on the worry that would swim in Samira’s eyes, the relief that would replace it when she noticed Jack was doing just fine as he led the ER with the same kind of tenacity and confidence that is so natural to him.
Dana raises her eyebrows. It’s past midnight, so she says, “You know he hasn’t worked this entire week in almost ten years.”
The paper towel rustles between Samira’s hands before she balls it up, shoulders hunching ever so slightly. “What’s your point, Dana?” she asks, tossing the paper towel in the trash. Her tone is straightforward, which reminds Dana of Jack, but not rude. She looks at Dana like she’s preparing for a bandaid to be ripped off, and isn’t that curious?
They’re playing this game, then. Dana wonders how long Jack and Samira can keep it up until the tension that so painfully obviously exists between them explodes. “My point is—” Dana starts, pushing herself off the wall and straightening. “There’s been a change in our Dr. Abbot, don’t you think? I worry about him,” she adds, pressing a hand to her chest. Samira tugs her lower lip into her mouth, the movement hinting at her dimple. “Do I need to worry about him today?”
Will you be there? Is whatever that is going on between you two mean he can lean on you? The way he so obviously wants you to lean on him?
Or do I need to protect you two from each other?
Silence follows her question for a few beats, but Dana is a patient woman when needed. She watches Samira’s throat bob, hands smoothing down the sides of her thighs as she looks away. It doesn’t last long, though, the silence. Soon enough, Samira nods as her dark eyes meet Dana’s, her expression one of determination and reassurance. “He’ll be fine,” she promises, words spoken by details of a truth Dana doesn’t have all of the pieces for. Not yet, at least.
But for now, she’s just grateful that Jack isn’t spending today alone. That he will not leave this shift and return to an empty home. Or so she hopes.
She has a pretty good feeling that she’s right, though. Dana has watched them for years. Saw the subtle changes over the course of time in their relationship; from coworkers to friends to something sweeter, softer, dancing around one another but never quite taking each other in the arms. Always waiting for. . . Something. The other, perhaps, to take that step forward.
The realization clicks as Dana watches Samira look at herself in the mirror, nodding to herself as she repeats, under her breath and maybe not for Dana to hear, “He’ll be fine.”
Dana sees it in the subtle furrow of Samira’s eyebrows, the mutter of conviction in her tone. She sees it in the muscle of Samira’s jaw jumping, the way the young resident tries to drop her shoulders, ease the tension away and fails to do so. Dana thinks of Jack’s lingering looks, the way his lips twitch when he’s around Samira like the words are fighting to free from his mouth, but he keeps them sealed in, keeps them a prisoner, just like his feelings.
A man who has loved and lost and kept pushing forward. But Dana knows him and she knows him well. Jack’s purpose, for years, starts and ends at the hospital. He works and when he’s at home, he is waiting to come back through those sliding doors and jump right back into the fray. He has pushed forward, but his purpose shrunk down to fit within the four walls of the Pitt.
Then came Samira and Dana watched, over the course of the last few years, the drive returning. Familiar but new, a kind of rejuvenation as though he has allowed himself to breathe for the first time since Claire passed.
Jack looks at Samira like he wants her to know. Watching, waiting, hoping.
But Samira—she looks at him like he’s so far out of reach, and the puzzle finally makes sense to Dana.
And it’s a frustrating one. The kind she wants to clear right off the table. These fucking fools .
Dana’s eyes squeeze shut as she rubs a hand down her face, mumbling into her palm, “I need a cigarette.”
“Sorry?”
She drops her hand to see Samira looking at her with a confused furrow, dark eyes earnest, and Dana adores this girl but, dear God, she’s driving her up the wall. “Nothin’,” Dana says with a shake of her head, turning towards the door while pointing a finger in warning at Samira. “Take your break. Eat food. Still got half a shift left.”
Samira chuckles in resignation, and Dana knows she has won. “Yes, ma’am.”
Satisfied, Dana walks out of the bathroom, the emergency room having fallen into a lull. As she makes her way to the Hub, she spots Ellis in Central 8, Shen in 16, and notes that everything seems under control. Grabbing her purse, from behind the station, Dana digs in and pulls out her cigarette pack and lighter, holding them up to Nurse Lena. “I’m gonna take a quick five.”
Lena nods. “Do your thing.”
The doors slide open with a hiss upon Dana’s approach, already pulling out a cigarette from her pack as she steps out to the ambulance bay, lit up by the hospital lights. The city bustles around them as she places a cigarette between her lips, which is when she realizes she’s not the only one having stepped out.
“Gettin’ some air?” she inquires nonchalantly, taking a few steps to where Jack stands. Or, well, leans against the wall right where he can see the clear dark sky above, unobscured by the jutting hospital ledge that covers the majority of the bay. He glances over, arms crossed, a ghost of a knowing smile tugging at his mouth when he sees the cigarette, but doesn’t judge. Never judges.
“Just a quick reset,” he answers as Dana comes to stand against him, leaning back as well as she flicks the lighter on.
“I’m just glad it’s down here,” she remarks before holding the cigarette still between her lips, feeling just a subtle heat coming from the flame as she lights the end. Before pocketing the lighter and pack, she offers it to Jack, who takes a glance and shakes his head. “You never answered my question earlier, you know. ’Bout how you’re doin’,” she adds casually, before taking the first glorious, relieving drag.
The smoke fills her lungs as she shoots Jack a sideways glance, who doesn’t frown, doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile. Just says, “Yeah, I did. I told you I’m fine.”
Dana exhales slowly on a laugh, raising her eyebrow as the tendrils of smoke curl out and dissipate into the air. “No, you were about to tell me, before you got distracted by your best resident ,” she says knowingly, throwing his words right back at him with a thread of amusement. She can’t help the smirk quirking at the corner of her mouth; her mirth is real, but she also is careful of pushing him in a direction he’s not ready for.
Except he might be, Dana thinks, even if he doesn’t know it.
“Just wanted to give her the coffee,” he mutters, turning his head to look out towards the streets, the buildings, anywhere but Dana. But she has eyes. And even in the beige lighting of the ambulance bay, she sees the pink that creeps up his skin, seeping into his face under the facial hair.
Dana puts the cigarette back between her lips, as though she needs the nicotine to motivate her into opening her mouth. For years, she kept herself from meddling. Stayed back and watched, happy to be an observer, as Jack and Samira drew closer and closer into each other’s circle before, unbeknownst to them, they began orbiting one another. Do they even realize it, that the other is in it right there with them? Does Jack know Samira seeks him out, just as much as he does her? Does Samira know he’s waiting for her to make that leap? He has loved, he has lost, he has hurt; he is willing to do it all again with Samira, hopefully different this time around. Hopefully with a happier end. Dana Evans knows Jack Abbot. She knows she is right in this.
Which is why she decides to stop being an observer.
“You came into work today.” Her words are gentle, but the clench of Jack’s jaw is hard and noticeable. She tilts her head just as he turns his own to look at her. In the hazel-green of his eyes, Dana sees a fountain of emotion that he has kept turned off for so long, already overflowing. It tightens her chest, to know he is feeling so much, yet keeping it to himself. “You haven’t worked this week in years, but you’re here. Because she’s here.”
She doesn’t bother being subtle about it. Too much time is being wasted, too many words left unspoken between the two of them. Two souls, wandering in the periphery, waiting to be pulled in by the other. Neither knowing the other is hopelessly, impatiently, achingly waiting. Dana has watched it all. She cannot any longer.
Jack’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, the arms across his chest tightening as he dips his chin to cast his gaze to the ground, at his shoes. “I thought it’d be easier,” he says quietly, gruffly. “Working when—” He stops, inhales sharply through his nose, before confessing, “when she’s around.”
This is not news to Dana. She had figured as much, of course. Always watching, after all. “And is it?” she implores, though she’s pretty sure she knows the answer already. Not only is he here, but he’s been smiling . Not to mention, he needed some air, and he decided to come out here instead of up there . The significance of it isn’t lost on Dana as she taps her cigarette, letting the excess ash fall to the ground.
Jack squeezes his eyes shut, running a hand down his face as he shakes his head. “Fuck,” he mutters before dropping his hand, blinking his eyes wide as he nods. “Yeah, yeah, it fuckin’ is.” Jack shrugs, looks at Dana, the helplessness in his gaze mixing with resignation. Acceptance. “What the hell do I do about that?”
Dana’s lips pucker in amusement before they pull back into a knowing smile, head tilting with a raise of her eyebrows. She ducks her head towards him, free hand reaching out to knock her knuckles against his freckled arms. “You tell her, you idiot,” she says with fond exasperation. It was easier to get him to confess than she thought, but it seems that Jack is just as tired of keeping up the charade as Dana is of witnessing it. It’s exhausting, watching the two of them pretend like they weren’t made to exist in each other’s lives.
Jack shakes his head again, throwing Dana a tired look. “She doesn’t need my shit, Dana,” he says, jaw working as he tilts his head back, eyes to the sky. “She’s just getting started. What’s she going to do with a guy like me?”
Dana knows what he sees when he looks in the mirror. A widower and a vet with plenty of ghosts haunting him from time to time, because Dana doesn’t do him the disservice of neglecting the progress he has made. She has witnessed it, front row. Has made him attend—at first by force, then he did it voluntarily—dinners at her house with her family on nights she knew he wasn’t working, just so he was enjoying a good meal in the presence of family. Has watched him grow comfortable in teaching, in showing young doctors the joy and purpose of saving lives. He has bad days, just like the rest of them, but he still stands tall. Still moves forward.
It’s time he stopped moving forward on his own.
“Do you want me to blow smoke up your ass?” Dana asks, catching his attention, wary and bracing himself for whatever she’s about to say. Dana blows out another puff, revels in the scratch in her throat as she pushes herself off the wall and faces him, arching an eyebrow and jutting a hip. “’Cause I will, if that’s what you need. One time offer. I’ll tell you you’re a good man, Abbot. Loyal and honorable and kind. You’re a good doctor, an even better friend.” His jaw jumps and Dana knows he recognizes her words, reminiscent of what Adamson had said that day. Reminiscent of the introduction Samira had gotten to the man Jack Abbot is. “And I don’t mean to call ya an idiot, today of all days, but you sure as hell are one if you don’t realize yet that she looks at you the same fuckin’ way you’ve been looking at her for the last two years.” More, really, but she will give him grace. A little bit, at least.
There’s a flicker of hope in his eyes, one that threatens to swell before he frowns, as though he’s insulted. “Don’t just say shi—”
“Abbot,” she cuts in patiently, with just a hint of exasperation. For a smart man, he’s an idiot in love. “When have you ever known me to be a liar, hm?” He presses his lips together, tension bracketing his mouth, but he stays silent, the crease still evident in his forehead. He’s keeping himself from letting that hope grow, Dana knows. She feels herself soften, then, sighing through her nose with a sink of her shoulders. “Samira is a big girl. A smart girl—” Jack nods, mostly to himself, because he can’t stop himself from agreeing. “You think she can’t handle herself, with you?”
He’s immediately shaking his head. “No. No, she can,” he answers in a rasp, gripping both ends of the stethoscope that hangs around his neck with a ghost of a smile appearing on his face before he rids of it. But Dana sees. He’s Samira’s number one champion, after all.
Dana doesn’t bother hiding her own small smile, even as she says, “You never work this time of year, but you’re here, because Samira is here. And she’s in there, worrying about you.”
Jack’s gaze snaps to Dana, surprise melting with disbelief as his eyes flicker past Dana to where the doors are. “She is?” he asks, chokes the words out, as he drags his gaze back to Dana.
“Yeah,” she answers with a nod before letting out a gentle scoff of a laugh. “What’s the deal, Abbot? You’ve been looking at her for so long—you didn’t realize she’s lookin’ right back at ya?”
His throat works as he wades through the pool of incredulity, sharp mind putting together what Dana’s been trying to tell him—what Samira has been trying to tell him, with not as many words. “She never said anything,” Jack says, low and almost to himself in wonder.
Dana shakes her head. “I think you both are waiting for the other to take that step and it’s become painful to watch. What, people don’t talk to each other anymore?” She rolls her eyes with a wave of her cigarette. “Two people need to have a conversation to get to where they want. Makin’ mooney eyes at her is only gonna get you so far.”
Jack blinks before looking at her, eyebrows furrowing together in what seems like offense. “I don’t make mooney eyes—the hell does that even mean?”
“You should know what that means. You’re not that much younger than me, Abbot.” When Jack opens his mouth to protest, Dana just shakes her head before nodding towards the bay doors. “She should be in the staff lounge, taking her break. Make sure she eats somethin’.”
Not that she needs to remind Jack of that. He’ll make sure, come hell or high water, that Samira is taking care of herself. Or he’ll do it for her.
Jack looks towards the doors again, jaw working as he delays to move. Dana watches him, taking another drag, letting him have his moment of hesitation so she can knock him out of it. Looking at Dana, he asks, “I’m not crazy for this, am I?”
Dana blows out the smoke, lips curving up in a warm smile even as she feels the pride thrum through her. She can tell, the way he stands, the way he keeps looking towards the door, that he’s ready for this. Today of all days, he’s ready for this, and Dana couldn’t be prouder. “No, honey, you’re not,” she tells him gently, reaching her free hand out to squeeze his arm. “You’ve spent all this time waiting. How much longer are you going to keep it up?”
Jack takes in a deep breath, the corner of his mouth quirking in a smile that is both self deprecating and accepting. “As long as she needed me to.”
She doesn’t expect for her throat to lock up at his confession. She eases it by squeezing his arm once more, ignoring the tightness in her throat borne from hope as she says, “Go get her.”
He doesn’t hesitate this time. Gives Dana a flash of a small smile before heading back into the emergency room, his strides long and purposeful, no hint of a limp. Rejuvenated, revitalized, by the mere thought of Samira Mohan.
After Dana finishes her cigarette and stomps it out under her shoe, she returns to the ED. Ellis is with another patient in one of the rooms and Shen is charting at the workstation, noisily sipping his iced coffee with the ice rattling in the cup. Dana glances at the board, which appears to be calm, and her gaze drifts in the direction of the staff lounge.
She finds herself wandering over, moving slowly to take a peek through the window of the door. Doesn’t even bother biting back a smile at the sight of Jack and Samira sitting at the table, side by side with enough space between their chairs for plausible deniability. But Dana sees the smiles, his and hers. Sees Jack’s skin pinkening in a way that she has only ever seen it do because of Samira. Sees the resident in question smiling shyly, yet enough to show off her dimples, as she nods at something Jack says. Dana doesn’t hear their conversation, but imagines it’s a good one. Imagine it’s the one. A confession of feelings. A question of a date. She will take either one. Both are promising.
“Got an MVA, couple minutes out. Multiple victims,” Lena’s voice calls out, which prompts everyone around her to begin moving. “Both trauma rooms are prepped and ready to go.” She turns where she stands at the station, locking eyes with Dana. “Abbot and Mohan?”
Dana nods, taking in a breath. She wishes she didn’t have to interrupt, but duty calls.
They perform it all flawlessly, perfectly. Save every one of the four victims that come in, doctors and nurses and techs moving around each other like a well oiled machine, and Dana is proud to witness it all.
The excitement of the multiple traumas fades as the patients are moved to surgery or ICU, but the work doesn’t stop. As the sun begins to rise outside, people start filling up in Chairs. Jack and Samira never stop moving, though.
“They’re way too energized right now,” Ellis mutters at shift end, leaning forward against the raised counter of the Hub, running her hand down her face after throwing a look over at Samira and Jack. They’re on the other side of the floor, chatting animatedly after Samira had asked him for a consult on a patient. When Dana follows Ellis’s gaze, she finds herself smirking. Wonders if anyone else has noticed the two of them standing a little too close together. More than before.
“You’re almost done, hang in there,” Dana smiles at Ellis over the rim of her glasses, not wanting the attention to linger on the two lovebirds. Not before they’ve fully figured things out.
Day shift begins trickling in soon enough, with night shift beginning to pack up their things and handing off their cases. Samira is in the locker room when Dana walks in, and as she puts in the combination, she asks, “You headin’ home?”
“No,” Samira answers as she pulls out her light jacket. “Getting breakfast with the others.”
Dana knows, of course. Night shift has a tradition of getting breakfast together at a nearby diner, mostly between Jack, Ellis, and Shen. Samira, of course, seems to have an open invitation when she works the night shift—unsurprising. Dana smiles to herself. “That’s good. You’ve got forty-eight off?” she asks, shrugging on her own jacket. Samira hums in confirmation as she untucks her hair from the collar of hers. Dana raises an eyebrow, keeping her knowing smile from growing. “Got any fun plans?”
Samira’s gaze flashes to meet hers, pulling out a bag from her locker slowly. “Uh—” Her gaze flickers towards the hall. They’re the only ones in the room for now, but the bustle of the ED continues on beyond. Dana stifles a chuckle, almost sure Samira is blushing under the shitty hospital lighting as she shrugs on the strap of her bag. “Nothing much. Just, um, dinner.”
Dana grabs her purse, giving her back to Samira briefly as she hums in acknowledgement. When she looks back at Samira, Dana arches an eyebrow. “Where’s he taking you?”
Samira presses her lips together. For a moment, she looks as though she is debating on how she wants to play this. But, fortunately, she realizes who she’s talking to, and so Samira lets out a breath with a faint smile. “We haven’t decided yet. He’s, uh, giving me a ride home after breakfast so, you know. We’ll talk about it then, I guess.” Her cheeks have definitely gained some color. Dana is delighted, but she keeps it from slipping forward; she doesn’t want her excitement to startle Samira.
“Make sure it’s fancy, if that’s the kind of food you like,” Dana says, letting a little bit of playfulness slip into her voice as she shuts her locker, spinning the dial. She throws Samira, who presses her lips together to keep her own smile from growing, a dry look. “Put that paycheck of his to good use. God knows he doesn’t spend any of that money on himself.” He’d use it on Samira in a heartbeat. Dana is fucking sure of that.
Samira lets out an almost startled laugh, running hand fingers through hair she has let loose from her claw clip. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, shoulder gently shaking.
“Good,” Dana says with a firm nod, satisfied, as she begins to make her way out of the room. A thought crosses her mind as she does, lingering in her mind as she wonders if it’s too much, too soon. If she should just let them figure it out on their own. She’s intervened enough, hasn’t she? So she shouldn’t—
“Samira.” She will. She can’t help herself, not with this. Anything else, Dana would’ve minded her own damn business. Yet here she is, watching as Samira looks at her after closer her locker with eyebrows raised in earnest, her head tilting just enough to beg curiosity. Dana smiles, gentle and warm and ever-knowing. “That man wants to love you.” Samira’s eyes widen slowly, a thousand different emotions flashing through dark irises. All of them good. All of them filling Dana with hope as she dips her chin and finishes, “Let him.”
Because that’s what exists between the two of them. Dana can see it clear as day. Maybe would have noticed it, from that very first day they met, if she had been paying closer attention. But she caught up—and she’s damn glad they did, too.
Dana doesn’t linger after that. Doesn’t stop to see the after effects of her words, good or bad, praying for the former.
But when she’s in the parking garage, slipping into the driver’s seat, she catches sight of the two people who have occupied her mind throughout the entire shift. Dana does not start her car, does not alert them of her presence. Instead, she watches. Watches as they approach Jack’s Land Cruiser, a number of spots away from where she backed into her own space. Watches Jack round the vehicle to open the passenger door for Samira. Watches as Samira faces him instead of getting inside—and watches as Samira, after a heartbeat, rises on her toes and kisses Jack for the first time in the quiet dark of the parking garage. Watches Jack kiss her back after his brain catches up with reality, and he realizes this is real and happening and he can hold her as he returns the kiss in earnest.
“Fuckin’ finally,” Dana breathes out, falling back against her seat with a huff.
She needs another cigarette. Doesn’t even care that she didn’t win the bet.
Dana Evans has seen everything.
Witnessing two of the best doctors she knows—the best people she knows—find the light in their dark days, find the light in each other, and fall in love is one of the highest privileges she has experienced in a career that will break your heart.
Dana Evans knows her people.
She knows if anyone can make it, it’s Jack Abbot and Samira Mohan.