Chapter Text
Chapter One:
When Savanah Nowak had dreamed about the first day of the rest of her life, this was not how she had pictured. She hoped to present herself with an air of confidence but not arrogance. Just assured enough that her new colleagues didn't think she would burst into tears at the slightest provocation. After all, she was a baby in the eyes of her superiors. A new and unknown element thrown into a new situation with nothing but a handful of references and academic honors to her name. Being Valedictorian and graduating Summa Cum Laude looked good on a resume, but in the real world of medicine, of life and death, it meant nothing.
In the pocket of her scrubs, her phone vibrated, no doubt another good luck text. Just another in the never-ending group text between her and her aunties. Three women who had stepped up at an age when they should have been attending their freshman homecoming instead of taking turns with a colicky newborn whose parents had disappeared, leaving her with only her grandparents as her only family. Her eyes found the pictures she'd neatly pinned to the inside of her locker with magnets.
Five in total hung there, grinning back at her. One was of her grandparents with their white hair and kind smiles, another was of her around six on a beach towel sandwiched between her aunts, then two identical grinning girls with deep brown eyes covered in mud and holding a very put-out Cat Benatar, her Aunt Mallory's Maine Coon. The last was her favorite. Four girls with arms around each other, looking so painfully young and happy. And the blonde on the end, beaming out at her, was her birth mother. It was some of the only proof to Savannah that the woman who gave birth to her had ever been happy.
In her mind, she could hear their voices cheering her on. Her Auntie Mallory's voice echoed the loudest: "C'mon, kid, asses are waiting to be kicked, and they won't kick themselves."
Savanah nervously tugged at her black scrubs. The material was soft and new but lacked the familiar calming scent of her lavender detergent. A scent she now missed. It was just another reminder that she was in the real world now. That the safety of childhood and med school were now firmly in the past. Her fingers nervously fiddled with her badge, making sure the clasp was secure. Taking in a deep breath, she smoothed her blonde ponytail and closed her locker while looping her stethoscope around her neck. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she came face-to-face with a petite blonde woman. A woman she had not heard approach.
And since the universe hated her, and she had the startle response of a caffeinated chihuahua, she reacted with a frightened: "Gah,"
Whatever composure and dignity she possessed abandoned her as she twitched, flailed, and flapped her arms at the woman like a flightless bird and stumbled over her own feet trying to flee, and nearly landed flat on her ass. The woman's eye gleamed as if thoroughly entertained. Savanah's cheeks burned as laughter echoed between the metal lockers. This was not the script she'd written in her head for her grand entrance, but it seemed the universe preferred slapstick to dignity.
The woman's eyes sparkled with humor, her presence both grounding and intimidating. Savannah scrambled for something—anything—to restore her dignity, but all that came out was a strangled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to… uh… audition for When Doctors Attack."
A raspy laugh escaped the woman before she answered, "Well, you nailed it."
Savanah hung her head and internally cringed. "Way to go, Nowak. An absolutely sparkling first impression."
The woman gave Savannah a gentle pat on her shoulder. The scent of cigarette smoke and something floral and minty clung to her like a cloak. It was oddly comforting.
"Sorry there, hun, didn't mean to startle you."
Savannah moaned pitifully. "So, any chance we can pretend that never happened?"
The woman smirked back. "Oh no, honey, you'll learn soon enough, there is usually very little levity around here. Laugh when you get the chance."
Savannah nodded, her cheeks red with humiliation. "Well, it may not be the first impression I was going for, but at least I provided some entertainment." Hopefully, she had gotten her humiliation out of the way, and she'd be able to complete her shift without needing to flee the state.
"That's the spirit." The woman cheered, holding out a hand. "I'm Dana, by the way. I'm the day shift charge nurse."
Savannah smiled sheepishly, shaking her hand. "Savannah Nowak, comedic relief and new R1."
Dana gave her an assessing look, and she fought back the urge to squirm. "I think I'm going to like you, Dr. Nowak."
The young woman felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. "Well, I hope so. I may not be battle-tested yet, but even I know not to make an enemy of the woman who runs the ER."
"Dr. Robinavitch is the chief attending and in charge of the ER."
Savannah snorted. "Uh-huh. I'm sure he's great, but I stand by my initial assessment."
Now Dana grinned. "Smart girl. C'mon, I'll show you to the hub. Dr. Robby will be waiting for the baby doctors there."
Stepping out of the safety of the locker room, she was greeted by the sounds of chaos. The buzz of the fluorescent lights, the echo of beeping machines, the loud chatter of disgruntled patients, the squeak of rushing sneakers on scuffed linoleum as doctors and nurses hurried from room to room. The burning smell of antiseptic, soap, and a hint of copper. It was like a warm, familiar blanket. The constant motion eased some of the tension.
"So, where'd you do your internship?" Dana asked, expertly sidestepping a custodian's bucket.
"Baylor University Medical Center."
"You don't sound Texan," the nurse observed.
"I'm not. Pennsylvanian born and raised. Bucks County specifically."
Dana nodded and hummed and continued to lead her toward the largely empty desk, but for two nurses talking animatedly to each other as a security officer strode past; no doubt headed for chairs and an uncooperative patient.
With eager brown eyes, Savannah took in her surroundings. The discarded coffee cups, crumpled protein bar, candy wrappers, forgotten cans of energy drinks, she fought a smile, thinking how her Auntie Mia would glare at the detritus with clenched jaw and gritted teeth. The lack of actual filling food would be an insult to her Polish roots. It was why all through her internship, she had been sent off to work with a lunchbox like it was her first day of kindergarten. It was both mortifying and sweet, and she felt a sad pang that her desire to leave home left her with only a box of Pop-Tarts sitting in her locker for emergency sustenance.
The board caught her eye next, and she felt a thrill of excitement dance down her spine. Everything was neatly labeled and color-coded, and it made Savannah's inner control freak do a happy dance. Her name would be up there with a patient and orders neatly recorded for safety and efficiency. This was the medical equivalent of seeing your name up in lights.
A booming laugh echoed down the corridor, drawing her attention just as someone rounded the corner at an alarming speed. Savannah sidestepped, only to find herself in the direct path of a fast-moving gurney. She hopped backward, back hitting the desk, heart thumping, narrowly avoiding a collision, and heard a nurse call out, "Watch your toes, rookie!"
The two nurses turned their conversation forgotten, and Savannah managed a nervous smile, cheeks burning.
"Well, at least I still have my toes."
The nurses smirked, and one wearing a nurse's badge with the Perlah on it teased.
"Don't worry, there's still time. Shift hasn't started yet."
Great.
Dana called Savannah's attention to two men and introduced her: "Dr. Abbot, Dr. Robby—meet our new resident, Dr. Savannah Nowak." But Savannah's focus shifted to a tall man at the desk with dark hair and a grey-speckled beard, hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of his hoodie. As he greeted her warmly, her heart raced. She recognized him.
From a photo.
One that photo sat in a box tucked into a closet, away from the reach of nosey little hands. His hair had been a bit longer then and there hadn't been any gray in his beard, but it was him. The same kind eyes and bright smile she saw every day in her sisters. The same baby sisters whose picture now hung in her locker.
Her mind was a whirlwind of disbelief and incredulity, because shit like this could only happen to her. The odds of simply stumbling across the man her aunts had been searching for years were astronomical. Unless you lived in an episode of General Hospital, of course. Where no character ever truly dies, evil twins are the special of the week, and long-lost parents popped out of the ground like gnomes.
Christ, how was this her life?
But despite the odds, he now stood before her. Dana, the other doctor with bouncy salt and pepper curls, and the tall man responsible for her panicked stupor were gazing at her gaping face with varying degrees of worry and amusement.
She needs to say something.
"You need to say something, Savannah! Tell them about the cluster fuck that was Market Garden. Tell them that it was Polish airmen who had some of the highest confirmed kills during the Battle of Britain. Hell, start spewing about the time Aunt Kenzie punched a mime in Paris. Say something! Anything!"
"Holy fucking shit!"
The curly-haired doctor blinked slowly, then he threw his head back and burst out into laughter. Loud bellowing laughter that seemed to make the entire department freeze and gape at the scene.
Her face flamed.
"Ah Christ, not that! What is wrong with you?!"
She whimpered, face falling into her hands.
So much for keeping her composure.
Well, she heard Alaska was nice this time of year.
"Oh, fuck me."
"Oh God," Savannah groaned miserably, and let her head fall into her hands.
The other doctor's laughter had finally died off, and the staff had long since gone back to work.
"Oh, Christ, I needed that." The man spoke, slapping a hand on the counter, amusement obvious in his tone.
A reassuring hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed. Savvy chanced a peek through her fingers and found Dana beside her, lips curled over her teeth to fight off a smile, and she moaned pitifully.
"Why always me?" the blonde whispered to herself, and Dana snorted and put a hand on her wrists and lowered her hands.
The dark-haired doctor gazed back at her with raised eyebrows and a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Can't say I get that reaction very often. Most people just call me Dr. Robinavitch or Dr. Robby." He spoke.
Well, at least he had a name now, and of course, it had to be the fucking chief attending. Fan-fricken-tastic. It wouldn't have been nearly as humiliating if it had been Dr. Abbot. Sure, he would technically be her boss, but not head of the whole damn emergency department.
And he would surely want an explanation for her outburst. Not that she could tell him. How does one even bring that up in conversation? "Oh, hey Dr. Robby, any chance you had a fling with a blonde woman, about yay high, and a little crazy? Or hey, boss, you have kids? Cause you may just be adding two more! Surprise, it's twin girls!"
Yeah, sure, that would go great. Even if by some miracle she did come up with something to say, this was not something she could just drop on the man at the start of a shift. Earth-shattering revelations should not be had before being told to go and save lives.
The only option she had was to deflect. This was not a conversation she should be responsible for, especially on her first day. Strangers she would probably never see again, she could handle being a bit of a spaz. It was the people she saw every day and would have to work with that made her nervous.
"Oh, ignore me. I'm just going to go drown myself in the bathroom sink! It was nice to meet you!"
"Whoa now." Dana grabbed her shoulders and kept her anchored in place. "What did we say before?"
Savannah sighed, "We need laughter."
The blonde nodded sharply. "Exactly."
"But does it always have to be me?" Savvy muttered under her breath.
Abbot snickered again, and even Robby was fighting to hold back a laugh.
"Okay, I gotta ask. What was that about?" Dr. Abbot questioned, hazel eyes locking on Savvy.
Savannah sobered, her face setting grimly. "Trust me when I say now is not the time."
Truer words had never been spoken as Dana's phone rang. The blonde listened intently, all signs of amusement gone. Then, brusquely informed them, "Incoming GSW to the chest. ETA three minutes."
At that, Savvy's profound embarrassment was forgotten as she followed after Abbot and Robby. The familiar movements of pulling on gown, gloves, and goggles filled her with a touch more confidence. This is what she trained for.
The GSW victim turned out to be a teenager waiting for the school bus. A random act of violence, as far as the police could tell. Savvy wondered if the cops would feel any different if they had to put a chest tube in a teenage boy's chest and watch the blood pour out onto the floor. Maybe then they wouldn't be so flippant before a true investigation took place.
Interning at Baylor Savannah had seen many gunshot wounds roll into the trauma bay, from accidental to deliberate. Her first shift as an intern, she'd had the misfortune of being on shift when a jealous ex-husband had entered the real estate office where his ex-husband worked and opened fire. Twelve victims in all had crashed through their doors, and she had been involved in four. Of that twelve, three survived their wounds. None of the patients she assisted with made it up to surgery. It had taught her a profound and cruel lesson. It wasn't only skill that saved a critical patient, luck was also a factor.
This young boy just might be one of the lucky ones, as he was whisked off to surgery with somewhat stable vitals. Suddenly, the trauma bay was silent, the floor slick with blood and littered with bloody tools, saturated gauze, and discarded gloves. It looked very much like a horror scene, but in the ED this was a win. The patient had left still breathing, and that was the best-case scenario.
Pulling off her gown, gloves, and blood-speckled safety goggles, dumping them in the medical waste bin, and heading through the doors back into the chaos.
"You ok, kid?" Dr. Abbot questioned as he appeared at her shoulder. Savannah smiled slightly.
"Yeah, I'm hanging in there. BUMC saw its fair share of gunshot wounds. My first day there was a mass casualty. An asshole couldn't handle his husband leaving him, so he went to his ex's work and shot twelve people. Three survived, the gunmen being one of them." She recalled bitterly.
Dr. Abbot's face hardened, eyes narrowing, and swore.
"Yeah," Savannah laughed grimly, "that about sums it up."
Savvy was finally able to escape to the bathroom, and the mortification and anxiety came rolling back with the force of a freight train. With trembling hands, she pulled out her cellphone, punched in the code, opened up the group chat, and tapped out a frantic stream of texts. This was so beyond her. How do you tell your boss they fucked their birth mother and said birth mother scampered off, but with two little surprises hiding in her uterus?
Who, when they were born, immediately signed away her rights and shoved her hours-old newborns into Aunt Mia's arms. Telling them nothing about the father, which meant it was a one-night stand or she was off her meds again and didn't remember.
But she couldn't hide here all morning, so she tucked her phone away, washed her hands, and fled the room before an anxiety attack could dig its claws in.
Face buried in the leather cushion of her couch, Mia Logan groaned a sound of bone-deep exhaustion. Sleep was a luxury that had escaped her lately. With Savvy in Pittsburgh and Jules and Hailey just getting over a miserable case of strep throat, Mia was running on fumes and anxiety. So after dropping the girls off at school, Mia had made it as far as the living room before she collapsed, shoes and hoodie still on, hoping for a nap. But before she tried to tune out the world for a few hours of rest, she grabbed her phone and thumbed out a message in the group text wishing Savvy luck, tossed the phone on the table, and face planted.
The house was quiet but for Reba, her German shepherd's soft snores and the whoosh of paws on the hardwood as she chased squirrels in her dreams. Mia heard the distant bangs echoing from her garage, which Mal had turned into a workshop despite having one at her own home. But as long as she didn't blow it up again, Mia really didn't care. The interchangeable thumps, bangs, and curses were like a white noise machine lulling her off to sleep.
She must have dozed off, because suddenly she was chasing Reba through a park as her loyal pup chased after Cat Benatar, who held the dog's prized squeaky toy in her mouth. Mia finally caught up to the Machiavellian toy thief when the cat suddenly turned, glared up at her, opened its mouth, and buzzed.
Mia snorted awake to her phone vibrating on the coffee table. With a groan, she sat up and reached for it. With sleep-blurred eyes, she tried to make out the rambling texts.
"Did Brooke piss off a witch before I was born?"
"Did I? Did I spit up on any angry, vengeful women with black cats when I was a baby?"
"Can pictures be cursed?"
"I think I found him."
"If I now live in an episode of General Hospital, where is my hot, blue-eyed mobster with a heart of gold?"
"Eyes and smile."
"They're identical."
"I want cookies. The choc-cherry ones."
"OMG, OMG, OMG!"
Finally followed by:
"Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"The fuck?" Mia muttered to herself. The sounds in the garage ceased abruptly. She heard tools clanging as they were tossed aside and the squeal of the connecting door opening into the kitchen. The quick slap of sneakers on tile, and Mallory Hollins appeared in the doorway. Red hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing an old Rolling Stones t-shirt and stained jeans. Grease was smudged on her cheek, and she was holding out her phone in confusion.
"What the hell? Is Savvy having a stroke?" Mal burst out.
Mia scowled, back. But couldn't really argue that this wasn't bizarre, even for Savvy. "Not funny."
Mal rolled her eyes and waved her phone around for emphasis. "Any clue what this is supposed to mean?"
"Nope. But she wants her comfort cookies. It can only mean she is embarrassed."
Mallory pulled a sympathetic face and nodded. "Yeah, social interaction. Not really her forte."
Mia dragged a hand down her face. Sadly, it was true. Savannah was one of the kindest girls Mia had ever known, but she had a problem with rambling. Which wouldn't have been so terrible if she could stay on topic, but when she got nervous, there was no telling what was going to fly out of her mouth. Especially with people she wanted to impress (It's why they had been so shocked when she said how much she liked working in the ER).
As Savvy's poor economics teacher had learned in high school when he had called on her unexpectedly. He asked her about absolute advantage, and she had gaped, sputtered, and finally regaled him with a step-by-step process to castrate sheep. Needless to say, Mr. Fraser never again called on Savanah.
Mia could only hope that something similar hadn't happened at work. If only for her niece's peace of mind.
"Think she told them about the castration thing?" a new voice spoke, making the other two women jump and turn toward the open double doors that led into the dining room and office basement.
"When the hell did you get here?" Mia demanded, hand pressed to her chest in fright. Beside her, Reba sat contentedly gazing up at her with a doggy smile and her tongue lolling out completely unbothered by the new arrival.
"Some guard dog you are." She muttered at the dog. Reba cocked her head to the side and thumped her tail.
"Oh, please, I never left." Kenzie Dalton waved a hand and shuffled into the room.
"Jesus," Mia muttered to herself, rubbing the back of her neck. "You both do have homes of your own, you know." She stated pointedly.
Mal looked insulted. "Hey, I actually went home. I'm not living inside your walls like a badger."
Kenzie scoffed. "I was working, and you have better snacks."
She said it like it explained everything. But with Kenzie, it kinda did. It also wasn't worth the argument that grocery stores didn't only deliver to her house, but it would be pointless. Even if the thought of someone in her house without her knowing made Mia's skin crawl, it wasn't worth that argument right now.
Mal was opening her mouth to snip back when their phones vibrated in tandem. All three froze and slowly shared a glance that was a mixture of worry, affection, and just a tinge of amused anticipation.
"How is Alaska this time of year?"
Kenzie sighed and scratched at the rat's nest that was her long brown hair.
"Yeah, she definitely brought up the castration thing," Mal remarked, pinching the bridge of her nose and leaving behind a fresh swipe of grease.
Kenzie heaved a sigh. "Alright, I'll head home and pack and lock up Captain Ahab."
Mal cocked her head to the side. "Captain Ahab is a lawn gnome."
The brunette scowled. "Yeah, and the Peterson brats keep trying to steal him."
Mia pushed herself off the couch and laced her fingers behind her neck, and looked up at the ceiling, praying for patience.
"No one needs to pack." She said with determination. Her two sisters in everything but blood shared a look of profound disbelief, and Mia fixed them with the look. The same look that cowed investors, government drones trying to cheat her on contracts because she had breasts and snarky teenagers alike, but neither flinched, simply gazing back without fear or remorse.
"Savvy wants independence. We promised we would respect that. As much as we loathe to admit it, she is twenty-four years old. She let us hover through college and med school. We have to let her grow up."
Kenzie snorted loudly. "Oh, come on. We all know how this is going to end. You'll stress bake until we have enough product to start a bakery. All while that dark twisty brain of yours thinks up horrible scenarios until you finally break."
Kenzie, in her rainbow leggings and Iron Man t-shirt, glasses sitting askew on her nose, and Cheetos crumbs in her hair, jabbed a finger at Mia while looking oddly serious. She then turned on Mallory, who was now rubbing dirty hands over her face, making herself look like a drunk hunter in camo face paint. She rolled her eyes, even as she wondered how someone so brilliant could be so damned scatter-brained.
"Mal will go out to the garage and either whack shit with hammers and wrenches until she breaks her fingers or she'll build a robot out of the toaster that'll attack the mailman, again."
Mal flushed when both her friends glared at her, remembering the sweet older man running for his life as he was chased by a toaster on wheels with claw arms and blaring Guns N Roses' Welcome to the Jungle'. They had been lucky to avoid a lawsuit, and still guilt had compelled them to pay for a luxury Christmas vacation in Hawaii. Now the man refused to deliver packages to the door and left them at the mailbox, and they were now prime targets for Mrs. Mills, who took out Mia's mail box at least twice a month with her SUV.
"I said I was sorry!" Mal cried out, but Kenzie waved her off, and Mia scowled.
"And I'll hoard snacks in your basement and come dangerously close to creating SkyNet. I'm just trying to save time and lawsuits," she looked directly at Mallory, "So yes, I'm going home and packing a bag and locking up my lawn gnome, call in and cancel our meetings, and book us a hotel. That way we avoid all this.' She finished circling a finger at them.
"So Mal, pack a bag and feed your gremlin."
"She's a cat." The redhead muttered.
"Yeah, whatever you say, Rambo." Mia snipped under her breath.
"Mia, get your mom to pick up the twins, bake the cookies we all know you're going to make, then pack a bag. I want to be on the road before lunch. I'll be bringing Taco Bell when I return, so text me your orders, or I'll choose for you. Now let's move people!"
The chaos of the ER sucked her back in, as Dr. Abbot left his shift long over, she was pulled into a huddle around the hub by Perlah, where the fresh-faced interns and med-students were introduced and welcomed aboard. Savannah flushed when it had been her turn and offered nothing more than an awkward wave, terrified of what would fly out of her mouth if she spoke.
Savannah had been assigned to Dr. Frank Langdon, a jittery energizer bunny R3 who couldn't seem to stand still. They were quickly handed a case by Dana, a thirty-year-old male with a foreign object in his rectum.
The man in North 12 was red-faced and lying on his side, looking sulky. He flushed even brighter when Savannah entered behind Dr. Langdon.
"So what seems to be the problem, Mr. Webber?"
The man's brown eyes flickered quickly between the two doctors. "I-I-ugh…fell."
Savannah bit back a snort and shared a covert glance of amusement with Langdon. It was always a fall, or the object simply appeared there.
"Well, Dr. Nowak here is going to take a look."
"Her!" Mr. Webber cried out.
"I'm fully qualified, Mr. Webber." Savannah spoke soothingly, leaving out that she was well acquainted with the type of "fall".
It had taken a bit of cajoling, an ultrasound, a muscle relaxant, and lube, but she was finally able to extract the turkey baster from where the sun didn't shine. As if to compound the poor man's horrible choices, his mother came bursting in and found her baster sitting on the bed. Savvy and Langdon spent another five minutes trying to diffuse the situation. Where they learned Mr. Webber had a fascination with kitchen implements. After one more quick ultrasound to check for bleeding, they were both ready to leave.
By the time they were able to escape, Savannah was feeling a bit better about her start to the day. At least she hadn't met her boss by being wheeled into the ED with something stuck where the sun didn't shine.
As they were charting, Langdon turned to her. "So, Savvy, what's the strangest thing you pulled out of an ass?"
Savvy paused, pursing her lips as she thought. "A Barbie doll. You?"
Langdon grinned. "Four goldfish."
"Oh", she winced. "Poor things, what a way to go."
Next, she had just checked on a young girl who had withstood a dislocated shoulder, and was now buzzed and happily singing "Rubber Duckie" to herself when Dana waved her over.
It was then that Savvy met the Kraken. It was not a friendly meeting, and she was nearly flung into a wall while trying to hold the man down for his medication. Dimly, as she struggled to pin the arm of the large man to the bed, she wondered why security wasn't helping. It felt like hours before one of the nurses was able to inject his meds into his thigh. To her horror, as she was leaving the behavioral health unit, she learned he was a regular.
Princess appeared at her shoulder and patted it. "Congrats, you survived the Kraken and on your first day. Not bad, rookie."
As she shuffled to the desk, panting as she tried to tame her sweaty hair, she caught sight of Dana and Robby at the desk, bickering.
"Oh, now you reappear." The blonde muttered at the tall doctor. "Funny how you always seem to be with a patient when the Kraken needs his meds."
Robby, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, glasses still perched on his nose, smiled innocently. "No rest for the wicked."
"Uh-huh. Coward."
Robby snickered, grabbing up a tablet and heading off toward a patient.
Dana rolled her eyes with a fond smile.
"Savvy!" Langdon called, poking his head out of a curtained-off room. Still panting from the exertion, she hurried off. No rest for the wicked indeed.
It wasn't until nearly two that Savvy was able to take a breath. Parked at one of the charting stations, gnawing on a protein bar from the vending machine, she was able to check her phone.
There were messages of concern that she expected, as well as confused ones simply with question marks and frowning emojis. But the one that caught her eye was from Aunt Kenzie.
"Well, kid, you've sufficiently freaked us out. We're on our way with a shit ton of baked goods. ETA five hours."
The time stamp read 11:36 am.
Savvy let her head fall back with a groan. She was both relieved that she wouldn't have to handle this alone and slightly annoyed that they felt the need to ride to her rescue.
"Problems?" Langdon questioned as he leaned back in his seat at his station and rolled closer, a half-eaten protein bar in hand. Savvy eyed him for a moment trying to puzzle out if he was being kind or just nosey.
Probably both. But beggars couldn't be choosers.
"Ugh." Savvy groaned. "It's my aunts. After my interesting morning, I may have texted them. And those texts probably made zero sense now they're on their way."
Frank snickered. "Yeah, heard about your morning. Wish I had seen it."
Savvy glared at him, and he sobered slightly, holding his hands up in surrender.
"Hey, it happens to the best of us." He took a large bite of his lunch.
She eyed him sardonically. "I somehow doubt that."
Frank shook his head, still looking way too amused as he chewed and swallowed. "So about your Aunts?"
"They are extremely protective, and I may have freaked them out."
He arched a brow. "May have?"
"Oh, I definitely did. They probably think I was having some kind of episode. So they do what they always do, ride to the rescue. With cookies."
He perked up in his chair like a meerkat. "Cookies?"
Savvy chuckled. "Uh-huh. Auntie Mia is a stress baker. I broke my arm rollerblading when I was twelve, and I was practically swimming in s'more cupcakes."
Frank groaned. "Oh, those even sound amazing."
She grinned fondly. "Oh, they are. But my favorite are her choc-cherry cookies. They're my comfort food. Anytime my mouth ran away from me, there were always a dozen waiting for me at home."
Now he groaned, frowning down at the protein bar in his hand, and she laughed.
"I'll make sure to bring you some. If she made less than four dozen, I'll be very surprised."
"Savvy, I do believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
Of course, when Savannah thought she had finally found her feet, her mouth once again got ahead of her brain.
It all began when a three-year-old girl was brought in by ambulance. Her chubby little cheeks flushed bright red from fever and crying. This time, Dr. Robby had called for her to join him. The girl's mother was nearly twitching with anxiety as she hovered at the head of the bed.
It was an expression Savannah had seen before on Aunt Mal's face when she had been watching the twins and they had come down with a high fever. Aunt Mia was on a business trip to San Diego and was still in the air and unreachable. It had only been a case of the flu, but seeing such small, innocent babies so uncomfortable was enough to shatter the hardest of hearts.
This wasn't much different. The poor thing had tonsillitis and an ear infection.
Savannah patted the mom on the shoulder. "I know it's not easy, but a few days with antibiotics and she'll be the same giggling baby she was before."
As she followed Dr. Robby out to the hub, he patted her on the shoulder. "Good job in there."
She flushed a bit and smiled. "Thanks. My Aunts were the same anytime my baby sisters were sick. And that's after almost nineteen years of broken bones and viruses with me."
He chuckled. "Yeah, that worry is eternal."
"So, what about you? How do you feel about kids?"
Dr. Robby paused at the hub and looked at her over the rim of his glasses. Her brain finally caught up to what had flown out of her mouth and paled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Frank and Princess gaping at her.
"Oh God no!" she shook her head frantically. "Sorry, that sounded way less like I was propositioning my boss in my head!" She fisted her scrubs in her hands and prayed to God to disappear. "I'm not offering anything! You're old enough to be my dad! Oh God, my brain hates me."
Now Robby looked less uncomfortable and more tickled. After all, it had only been a handful of hours since she had cursed right in his face upon meeting him. He was going to start to think she was completely unbalanced. If only he knew the real reasons, maybe then he wouldn't put her on a twenty-four psych hold. But then again, if she tried to explain her faux pas, she would end up blurting out the truth for all to hear.
He opened his mouth to say something, but she frantically slashed her hands through the air. "No. Nope. I'm just going to go crawl under some rock before I blurt out something else like asking your favorite sexual position of something terrible like that!"
Her eyes widened, and she felt the permanent blush on her face turn into a throbbing sunburn. "Oh my God!"
Then she turned on her heel and fled. Leaving Frank and Princess lying prone over the desk with hysterical laughter. If she had the guts to turn around, she would have found Robby hand over his mouth and his shaking shoulders as he tried to stifle his laughter.
Mal sighed as she gazed out the window. The SUV rumbled along I-76 W. Her head rested against the window as cars of every make and color zoomed by. Kenzie was at the wheel, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel to Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline blasting out of the radio speakers. In the back, Reba had her nose poked out the small opening in the window, enjoying all the new smells while her human was desperately trying to catch some sleep.
The redhead glanced down at her watch and clocked the time 3:39 pm, and glanced over at the GPS and sighed. Traffic had been brutal and had added at least another hour to their drive. She was beginning to wonder if they should have called for the helicopter. But with Mia's state of constant worry and crippling fear of heights and "death by falling eggbeater" as she called it, this was probably the better choice.
Mal gasped as she was thrown forward when Kenzie stomped on the brakes when a motorcycle cut them off. As Kenzie let out a stream of curses about limp-dicked brainless morons, Mal could not help but wonder if drugging their panic-prone sister and dragging her onto the chopper would have been a better idea.
After all, what was a little kidnapping between friends?
Sitting with her back against the lockers, Savannah fought the urge to bang her head repeatedly against the metal. Not that a concussion would make today any less mortifying. With a sigh, she looked down at the picture in her hands.
Jules and Hailey's grinning faces gazed back up at her. Jules, with mud streaked across her forehead, beaming at the camera to show off her missing front tooth. Hailey was, as always, tucked tightly against her sister's side, holding up a glaring cat and looking quite pleased with herself.
The photo had been taken on their fifth birthday when they had been running off their sugar high, and Cat Benatar, who had been happily stalking birds in the back yard, had become their target. The feline had led them on a merry chase, but even a gremlin of chaos was no match for the twins. Two tiny generals of mischief.
It had been after their baths, and they were being tucked into bed that came the yearly question that everyone dreaded. Each tucked into their beds. Hailey tucked beneath her teddy bear sheets and curled around her well-loved elephant, and Jules, swathed in Iron Man pjs, raised up on her elbow and voiced the dreaded words: "Have you found our Daddy yet?"
It had just been Aunt Mia and Savvy in the room, with her other two Aunts trying to fight the giant cat into the bathtub, but she had wondered if getting bitten and scratched wouldn't have been less painful. Because the answer was always the same. No. They hadn't, but they were still trying. God, were they trying. But trying to track Brooke's movements was much harder than one would assume. Her birth mother was a wanderer. No permanent address, no phone plan, and no social media. She always paid in cash and didn't always use her real name.
The fact was, they couldn't even be sure where Brooke had been when she met the man in the photograph. If they had been able to narrow the field down to Pittsburgh with Aunt Kenzie's skills, they probably would have found him years ago.
The atmosphere had been somber afterward. Mia had looked entirely defeated, Mal had looked close to tears as she bandaged up her angry cat scratches, and Kenzie looked as if she was plotting something illegal. She was muttering something about hacking some database and borrowing their facial recognition software. "And it's only a felony if you get caught."
Savvy had been lucky. She at least knew who her father was. As horrible as he was. He may have taken off before she even came home from the hospital. But she had a name and a face to associate the title of father with, deadbeat tho he was.
It was Langdon who found her a few minutes later and sat down beside her. His back against the lockers, knees drawn up to his chest, and arms resting on his knees.
"So…" he began slowly, and Savannah turned her head slowly and glared at him. He grinned back in a way she was sure he thought was charming, but at the moment, it made her want to punch him.
"Oh shut up. I'm already plotting my move to Alaska."
He snorted. "Aw, don't do that."
He rocked to the side and nudged her shoulder with his. "I haven't laughed that hard in ages."
"Great, just what I was going for." She grumbled.
Frank must have caught on that the levity wasn't raising her spirits. "But seriously, kid. You're doing great."
Savannah gave him an incredulous look and threw her hands up in the air. "Oh, am I? I know you didn't miss the part where I inadvertently inferred I'd like to have my boss's children. If I remember correctly, you nearly wet yourself."
He nodded, slowly. "Okay, yeah. That was not your best moment. But I doubt he'll report you to HR."
Savannah groaned and swatted his shoulder unthinkingly. With the same hand that held the picture of her sisters. Which he now noticed.
"Hey, who are they?" he questioned, grabbing her wrist so he could see better. She desperately wanted to pull it away and hide it from his view, but it was too late. She knew the exact moment he saw it.
"Jesus." His wide blue eyes found her's. Frank's expression was one of shock. His mouth opened and closed as he searched for the words. Until finally he blurted out:
"Savvy, please tell me they're not yours."
She choked on her spit and sputtered and hacked for a moment. "They're my sisters, you jackass!"
Frank seemed to sag. "Oh, oh, thank fuck. But I'm going to assume he doesn't know. That your mom never told him."
Judgement had seeped into his tone, and Savvy wrenched her wrist from his grasp. "No, she didn't, but it's more complicated than that."
He arched a questioning brow.
Savannah sighed. This was not a conversation she thought she would have on her first day. Hell, even her first month if she had any say.
"My birth mother never raised any of her kids. Something happened when she was a teenager to her and her friends. My aunts. She never recovered, not really. She had me at fourteen, then showed up pregnant again, years later. No explanations, no names, just handed off her twins and disappeared again."
"Shit." Langdon whistled through his teeth, his head thumping back against the locker.
"My Aunts have been looking ever since. But they had nothing to go on but one picture."
"Well, I'm gonna bet this isn't how you thought your first day in the pitt would go."
It was nearing five, and Kenzie was on the last thread of her fraying nerves. Gridlock was never anyone's friend, but it was made worse by morons with a death wish. In the last twenty minutes, she had been cut off, nearly sideswiped by a woman in a Lexus putting on mascara, three miles back, she'd seen a Toyota sedan rear-ended by a truck, and almost watched a motorcyclist get smushed when he cut off a tractor-trailer. How he made it away unscathed was a question for god.
She eyed her GPS and nearly wept with relief that he exit was only two miles away. Her sisters had dozed off an hour back, and she figured to wake them when they got to the hotel. Kenzie hit her turn signal and inched along until she could switch lanes.
The SUV coasted a half a mile when the road seemed to shake. First, it was a mild tremor, and Kenzie almost believed she had imagined it. Until she felt it again so strongly she had to fight with the steering wheel to stay in her lane and not plow into the back of the pickup in front of her. In the back, Reba sat upright and gave a whimper. Then came another jolting both Mal and Mia against their seatbelts, and in a knee jerk reaction Kenzie jerked the wheel careening onto the shoulder and up onto a grass hill near an on ramp she turned the wheel frantically completing a one hundred and eighty degree turn before coming to a stop, the front of their SUV now faced the carnage. Vehicles swerved, spun, and finally collided with the sound of buckling metal, screeching tires, and the smell of burnt rubber.
It was pandemonium. That felt like hours but lasted barely two minutes. Then, with an ear-piercing scream of metal failing, a deep rumble, and a puff of dust, the shaking ceased.
"Is everyone okay?" Mia demanded from the back seat, his face ashen as she clutched Reba to her side.
"All good." Kenzie blew out a breath.
"Yep, pretty sure I pissed myself tho." Mal chimed in, her hands had a white knuckled grip on her seatbelt.
Kenzie unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door. She slipped partway out to balance on the door frame to see over the sea of smoke and chaos. About sixty feet ahead, a large jagged maw had opened up in the road.
He could already feel the headache building behind his eyes. Robby caught motion out of the corner of his eye as a patient bolted from his room, screaming about aliens and probes, hospital flapping behind him with Princess and Dr. Fields, one of the interns hot on his heels. Thankfully, he at least was still wearing his boxers as the slight man bolted past a four-year-old girl and her horrified mother in a hallway bed.
It only got worse when Mateo came around the corner with the food cart. The patient had been so distracted looking behind him that he didn't see the cart. A scream, a clash of knees on aluminum, and a heavy slap of flesh on tile.
Perfect.
Robby was just about to push away from the desk when Langdon and Nowak appeared from central six, looking perplexed before taking in the scene and sighing. Ahmed arrived on the scene a moment later with Perlah, pushing a wheelchair behind him. Mr. Conrad and his alien conspiracies were now in for a one-way trip to BH.
But that didn't mean he was going to go quietly. Spewing curses and flailing limbs, it took both Ahmed and Langdon to force him into compliance as Dana arrived on scene with a dose of haloperidol. The patient bucked and tried to bite at the hands that held him before the medication took effect, then it was a nice, easy ride to BH. Fields looked a touch shaken as he trailed far behind the wheelchair as if the man was just playing possum and would go for his throat if he got to close.
Langdon and Nowak helped Mateo right the cart before heading to the computer to put in orders for their patient. The young blonde resident glanced up and caught sight of him, and blanched before quickly looking away.
A smile twitched at his lips, and he fought the urge to laugh. Despite her lack of control over her mouth when nervous, she was a promising doctor. Steady and oddly at ease with patients in a way she wasn't with those she worked with. Or at least him. It certainly wouldn't be the first time a baby doctor was terrified of their attending. It was usually Jack who made the newbies tremble in their shoes with his gruff nature and sarcasm. But it usually petered off after the second shift when they realized that he wanted them to succeed as much as they did.
But Robby wasn't going to lie and say Dr. Nowak hadn't been amusing. He wasn't sure the last time he had laughed so often in the ED, and he couldn't recall ever seeing Jack laugh in such a way. It was a shame she had been so embarrassed on her first day, but damn if they hadn't all needed the amusement.
Langdon glanced up from his computer and froze when he saw Robby. Looking very much like a deer in the headlights. Now Robby blinked in confusion. As his R3 gaped at him and nearly tripped over himself to pick up a new chart.
He didn't have time to unpack that right now as Dana's eyes found him across the desk, phone pressed to her ear and a grim look on her face.
With sure movements, the charge nurse tucked the phone away and hurried toward him. "Overpass collapse."
"Which means numerous crush injuries, burns, impalements, and broken bones."
Fuck.
Chapter 2: Chapter Two
Notes:
I appreciate all the views, comments, and kudos. So there's part 2.
Chapter Text
Chapter Two:
It had been years since Mia had been a paramedic. It had been even longer since she had faced a scene like this. It had been her third year in December, and the snowfall had been double that of the previous year. It had been one particularly terrible storm that reduced visibility to nearly zip, and finally, the worst had happened.
After days of mild fender-benders and slips and falls, a feeling of dread seemed to linger overhead. A silent promise that if the weather didn’t break, something else would. And break it had. When the ambo had arrived on scene, it was a nightmare of twisting steel, flickering flames, curling smoke, and pleading screams for help echoing over the piercing wail of a car horn symphony.
It had taken hours of scurrying into crushed cars to tend to the injured or search for a pulse. The road was so congested with crumpled vehicles that each backboard had to be carried to a waiting gurney and ambulance. On slick, icy ground, it had been a nightmare. Sometimes Mia still wondered how anyone had survived.
It had been so long, or at least felt like it, before today, that she used to worry about losing her skills. Even though she kept up with her certification, it nagged at her at night. Being a paramedic had been something she had been proud of, and losing it had left more scars on an already battered psyche.
Yet it seemed she worried for nothing. Her instincts had kicked into overdrive. She was out of her seatbelt, slipping out the back door, slamming it behind her, and heading for the trunk without conscious thought. The back hatch opened smoothly, and after some quick rearranging of luggage, she spotted the familiar gray backpack with bright green plastic rhinestones the twins had bedazzled it with and had to crawl in the trunk to reach it.
Balanced on her knees, she dug through the IFAK, removed the permeant marker and stethoscope, tucking one in her pocket and looping the other around her neck before swinging the pack onto her back. She then reached for the heavy black case wedged against the back seat that held the emergency accident kit. Unlatching the clasps, she found three fire extinguishers, a cluster of hazard flares, a pack of glow-sticks in varying colors, and nestled neatly into the corner of the box was another backpack.
Normally, Mia would grumble that her godfather had snuck something into her supplies. She was paranoid enough, thank you very much. But nothing matched the paranoia of a former officer of Delta Force B squadron who had seen more war than he had peaceful civilian life. In this situation, she could only be grateful. For his need to double and triple-check anything that involved his beloved nieces.
“Mal!” she called and turned slightly on her knees to throw the extra pack at the redhead. “Seems Uncle Dallas went rooting through my supplies.”
The other women grinned weakly. Mia inched back toward the bumper, dragging the case behind her. When her sneakers hit the grass, she grabbed the extinguishers and handed them to her two friends, tucking one under her arm. Then, she grabbed the bags of glow sticks.
“Kenz, you call 911?” she asked.
The taller woman nodded shortly. “Okay, stay here. If anyone wanders this way, keep them here. Keep them as calm as you can. If they're disoriented or cut badly, give a shout or find a responder.”
Mia looked over at Mallory, who was already digging through her pack, pulling out two sets of nitrile gloves. Mia accepted a pair and pulled them on with practiced ease.
“You still remember your first aid training?”
Mallory nodded. “Yeah, I can’t do much more than take blood pressure, bandage, or a tie tourniquet.”
“Alright, good. When you place a tourniquet or take pressure, use your Sharpie and write it on their forehead. Write the time for the tourniquet down too. It’s important.”
Mal gave a sharp nod.
Then Mia held up the bags of glow sticks. “These are for victims. If they’re trapped or pinned, leave them on top of the car or the victim if they're pinned. Kenzie, for any that come your way, there is a string in the glove compartment, loop it around their necks or a limb.”
Now she held up the large industrial-sized bags packed to the brim with multi-colored sticks. “Red is for critical, yellow for serious but not critical, green is for the walking wounded—scrapes, bruises, etc.— and blue is for…the dead or those unlikely to survive—let's hope we don’t need these.”
In the backseat, the German shepherd looked at them and whined, but Mia slammed the trunk closed. She would spoil her poor pup later.
“Let's move.”
Savannah was tying up the back of Dr. Collin’s gown as Mateo and Donnie arrived with the disaster bins. Gown secure, she turned away, grabbed gloves, shoe covers, and a pair of protective glasses. Fields and Harper, two of the new med students, hovered to the side, fully prepped. As she bent to slip the covers on her shoes, she frowned at them when Harper seemed to sway on her feet.
“Hey,” she bit out more sharply than intended, making the two jump in surprise. “You two, I need you to breathe. We are about to be swamped, and we can’t have you fainting. Because if you do, I will step over you. So be warned, head in the game or become road kill. Your choice.”
With that said, she hurried past them to help Ahmed and Dr. McKay empty the waiting room. Savvy didn’t even notice Dr. Collins and Abbot, who had arrived a few minutes earlier, watching her with amusement.
“I think I’m going to like that kid,” Abbot remarked and eyed Heather speculatively. “Think there's any chance I could steal her for the night shift?”
The other doctor smirked. “You may have to fight Dana for her.”
Mia tried to bite back a groan as her body twinged in protest.Sweat was beading on her brow. The girl had been unconscious when Mia had found her, but had come to as she was checking her pressure. It had been a moment of panic for the poor thing.
The girl had tried to fight her and Mia had been hard-pressed to stabilize her neck.
“Look at me.” Without thought, Mia slipped into her “mom” voice which seemed to penetrate the girl’s haze.
“You were in an accident. I’m a paramedic. I’m here to help you, okay?”
“O—okay.” The girl managed through a hiccuping sob.
“Good. Now I need to ask you some questions. Can you tell me your name?”
“Kayla Rodriguez.”
“How old are you Kayla?”
A few tears escaped her eyes and traced tracks down the girl's blood-stained cheeks. “Seventeen.”
A few more standard questions followed: the date, the president, and so on, and then a quick flick of her penlight in the girl’s eyes, and Kayla was no doubt concussed, but her pupils were equal and reactive, so Mia wasn’t overly concerned and tucked the light away.
“Great job, sweetie.” Mia’s back twinged as she knelt half on the passenger seat and half on the console, her knee wedged against the gear shift. “Okay, now I know this is going to be scary, but I need something to brace your neck. Do you have a sweater or a towel?”
“Hey—hey, no don’t move,” Mia interjected when Kayla went to turn her head to look. “Just tell me where.”
“Hoodie. On the back seat.”
“Okay, I’ll get it. Just hold still.” When her patient made a weak sound of agreement Mia contoured her body until she could see into the back and after a few seconds, she spotted it crumpled on her floorboard. She nearly hissed in pain as her body protested her stretching grab.
With a grunt she straightened up victorious in her quest, and leaned back on her heels, shaking out the fabric. Mia tucked the neck down and rolled the hoodie lengthwise leaving the sleeves free.
“Alright, I’m going to be honest with you. This is not going to be comfortable, but we need to keep your neck stable.”
Panic again beamed out at her. “It’s just a precaution. We always do this for a car accident.” Mia gave a small laugh. “Usually we have actual cervical collars and not old Penn State hoodies, but today is not that day.”
Next Mia placed the padded section of the hoodie behind Kayla’s neck and wrapped it slowly around the neck finally tucking the sleeves giving it the look of a very thick scarf.
After that Mia quickly slapped the pulse-ox on her finger, her pulse—not surprisingly was a little elevated pain and terror weren’t easy on the body, it took her pressure and gave her chest a quick listen. With blood the wound to bloody on her forehead she scribbled out the info on Kayla’s inner left forearm. The teen blinked but didn’t complain.
After that, it was quick work to bandage the head wound and haul her heavy backside out of the car. Finally, outside the Volkswagen, she tried to twist the crick out of her back and failed. With a resigned sigh Mia produced a yellow glow stick snapped it and placed it on the roof of the damaged roof.
”Alright, sweetie, I have to go.” Kayla looked up at her in panic and went to shake her head, but Mia held up a hand.
“No—no, don’t try to move. I secured your neck the best I could, but I need you to stay still.” She reached forward, putting a hand on the girl's forearm. “C’mon, breathe with me. In—one…two…three…four—good. Now out, one…two…three…four….five….six. That's it. Good.”
Mia rubbed the girl's arm soothingly.
The echo of sirens announced the arrival of a handful of fire engines and a few ambos. Mia checked her watch. Four minutes. A good response time given the circumstances. Fires and other injuries didn’t pause because an overpass collapsed. First responders couldn’t leave an ongoing rescue simply because another disaster had occurred.
”Hear that, hun?” Mia did her best to paste on a confident smile. “The cavalry is here. They’ll be with you soon, but I need to keep moving.”
Tears of fear and pain were welling in the girl's bright blue eyes, but she offered a brave smile. “O—okay. I can,” the girl swallowed. “I can do this.”
The girl was saying it more to reassure herself than Mia.
But the brunette smiled anyway. “Yeah, you can.”
With one last squeeze of her wrist, Mia pressed forward. Checking every vehicle she passed, searching for victims. Some of the cars were empty, the occupants already free of the debris. She approached another car and paused when she noted a metal pole protruding from the windshield on the passenger side. A few feet ahead, turned slightly on its side, a construction truck was wedged between two pickups, its front driver's and passenger side wheel propped up on the side of a gray truck.
With a deep breath, she stuck her head in the driver's window. Finding the driver's empty, but a woman of about thirty was in the passenger seat. The pole pierced her just below the right shoulder and protruded through the back of the seat.
“Shit,” she swore softly.
Mallory Hollins was not in her element. Tools, gears, soldering irons, and wires were her niche, the place she felt most comfortable. Blood and guts and other kinds of squishy stuff were not. She didn’t swoon like a scandalized Regency lady, but in this moment she selfishly wished she did. In only a few minutes, her tank was already streaked with blood. None of it is hers.
She almost wished she and Mia hadn’t split up, but it couldn’t be helped. There were at least fifty to sixty vehicles before the collapse. All twisted together in a morbid example of modern art. Mal didn’t want to think about how many were below them, buried alive beneath jagged rebar and great blocks of concrete.
She pressed on. Pausing at an empty Toyota with flames leaping from its hood, she hurriedly pulled the pin on her fire extinguisher, aimed, and fired. The flames flickered but danced stubbornly on, and she gave it two more blasts before it seemed to die out. Mallory felt a brief thrill. In the life of an engineer, fires were pretty much a guarantee, or it was if you were one like Mal. This had not been her first battle of wills. Some days, the flames won today, it seemed today the victory was hers. She, for a brief moment, allowed herself to feel proud. She had done something. Small and probably insignificant in comparison to the first responders and the doctors waiting nearby to save lives.
Mal waited a few moments to make sure the fire didn’t reignite before moving on.
She had just bandaged an elderly man with a gash on his leg and a probable broken arm, then directed him toward Kenzie. Mal was stripping off her gloves and digging for a new pair when she heard it. Faint at first over the arriving sirens of the first responders and the car horns, but then again louder this time.
”I need some help over here!” a deep voice called. Hiking her pack up with the hand not holding the extinguisher, she took off toward the voice.
“Hello?” she called back, trying to pinpoint the placement in a sea of twisted metal and smoke.
There seemed to be a pause of surprise. “Over here!”
She turned toward the voice and had to scramble over the hood of a car.
”I see you!” his voice rang out. “To your left, green Ford.”
Mal turned to her left and let out a breath of relief when she spotted it. The pack bounced against her shoulder as she ran. She arrived at the passenger side window and glanced in.
Connor Rhodes was having a very bad day. He had arrived in Pittsburgh forty-eight hours ago to search for a condo before he took up his new post as a cardiothoracic surgery attending at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. A new, fresh start free of the horrors of his time in Chicago. But it seemed this fresh start was beginning very much like the last one. Another mass casualty incident that he got himself caught up in.
Last time it had been a train derailment. This time, it was an overpass collapse. Why not? He had been relatively lucky; his rental car had been on the outside lane and had been rear-ended, pinned against a guardrail, and forced to wiggle through the sunroof to escape.
He had quickly cataloged his injuries and found nothing more than bumps and bruises before he was moving with a practiced efficiency. Those who had also escaped their vehicles, he had done a quick exam and had sacrificed his shirt, leaving him in an old t-shirt, to make shift bandages. He had told those able to walk to get away from the collision site and wait for EMS.
Connor had ducked his head into the cars he passed, but sadly found none alive. He did what little he could for those with broken bones and trapped limbs while promising to send help as soon as he could. He knew he was in trouble when he stumbled across an open-bed pickup hauling what looked like large panes of glass.
A sense of dread crept up his spine and turned to survey the immediate area. A green SUV was a few feet away, its windshield crushed in. Large shards of glass glinted amber in the glare of the setting sun on the hood.
As Connor moved closer, he could see a woman behind the wheel, her skin and her floral dress painted in blood. Her hands desperately grasped a large shard of glass protruding from her throat. He choked out a desperate shout as he pelted forward. His only point of entry was the back passenger door that was blessedly untouched by the pile-up.
The door opened when he tugged, and he climbed in.
“Hey, hey— hi.” Connor leaned between the seats for a better look. He gently moved her hands away from her wounds. "Hey, don't touch that."
Connor tried to keep his voice soothing as he inched between the seats, his right hip resting on the center console. When he was in her line of sight, he smiled.
"My name's Connor. I'm a doctor."
The woman's eyes widened, and relief emanated behind her tears. She opened her mouth as if to talk, but he quickly shook his head.
"Don't try to talk," he urged. "We're going to do something a little different. When I ask you a question, you are going to blink once for yes, two for no. Can you do that?"
She gave one slow blink. He grinned. Over the next few seconds, he ran through a list of questions. As he inspected her, he noticed the neck injury was not her only one. Her right arm was bleeding heavily. Connor glanced around, looking for something to staunch the blood flow.
On the passenger seat, he spotted a discarded jersey spilling out of an open equipment bag. He felt a pang as he grabbed it as it was probably her son’s but it was all he had. He made a mental note to buy the kid a new one when this was over.
Connor’s bloody fingers left smudges on the clean white fabric as he balled it up and pressed it firmly to her wound. The woman gave a rattling gasp, and he winced in apology.
"I know—I'm sorry."
Connor's eyes flicked desperately out of the destroyed windshield, hoping to see a first responder emerge from the smoke. But logically, he knew they were too near the collapse, and it would take time for medics to reach them. Time that this woman did not have.
There was no other option but to wait. So Connor talked about everything and nothing. His so far fruitless search for a condo, how, when he stopped in at a grocery store, an elderly woman had followed him through the store on her scooter and bided her time until he bent for something and pinched his ass and had only become more brazen by the time he reached the checkout. He was halfway through a story about how he had stumbled unknowingly into a drag queen's birthday party once while in New Orleans and how he had spent the better part of the night singing karaoke with them, when the woman's breathing became more shallow and labored.
Her eyes which had been barely open before fluttered weakly.
"Help!" Connor called out.
"Hey--hey, stay with me, you gotta keep those pretty eyes open for me, beautiful."
One hand held the saturated jersey to her wound with the other snaking free to check her pulse. It was sluggish and thready beneath his fingers, and he counted her raspy breaths and bit back a curse.
"I need some help over here!"
With desperate movements, the woman's hands tapped his arms in terror. He could read it in her hazy eyes. She couldn't breathe well and was rightfully terrified by it.
"I'm here, okay. I'm right here, and I'm going to do my best to get you out of here. I just need you to stay with me."
He waited a moment and nearly deflated until he heard a voice answer back. "Hello?"
" Over here!" he bellowed, hoping the person would be able to hear him over the din and follow his voice.
A small form clambered over the hood of a car, her red hair gleaming in the dull light. A fire extinguisher in one hand and a large black backpack tossed over one shoulder. Her head turned searching for him.
"I see you!" he called out, grinning at his patient. It may not be the rescue he needed, but it was someone who could fetch help. "To your left, green Ford!"
He turned slightly and knew the moment she spotted them. The woman started toward them at a run, pack bouncing and extinguisher slapping against her thigh.
She placed the can by the car and propped herself on the bumper of a sedan to poke her head in the window. The redhead's eyes widened and blanched. Panicked blue eyes found his, and then she was shrugging off her pack.
"What do you need?" she questioned quickly, unzipping her bag. "I have a ton of crap in here that I'm not sure how to use or what exactly it's for."
As if to demonstrate her lack of knowledge, she held up an endotracheal tube in its sterile wrap and a rescue litter. Connor released a slightly hysterical laugh and swore that when this was over, he was going to kiss this oblivious walking miracle.
It wasn't even half an hour before casualties were crashing through their doors. Abbot had been checking in with triage when an ambo came skidding in amongst the civilian vehicles that were being unloaded.
Jack had been helping unload a possible broken femur and sending him off to pink when one victim caught his attention when he was rolled in. A man in his late forties, with a red glow stick tied to his left arm and a black marker scrawled across his forehead.
"Approximately forty-year-old male with a possible knicked carotid artery," the EMT continued, rattling off vitals as another ambo sreeched in behind them.
Jack examined the man as he moved alongside the gurney. The neck wound had been packed and wrapped neatly in a pressure bandage with bloody, smudged fingerprints, but no sign of active bleeding. Pressure and pulse ox were written in black permanent marker across his forehead. As well as the fact that the victim had been wearing an emergency alert bracelet notifying that he was a type 1 diabetic and had a latex allergy, which broke in the accident.
The transfer to the gurney was done quickly.
"Get him to trauma one," he ordered as he moved away. Needing no further instructions, the nurses raced off. He turned back to the two men, who were already heading for the ambulance.
"Nice work!" Abbot called after them.
"Love to take all the credit, doc," the medic called over his shoulder as he and his partner secured the gurney in the back of the rig. "But the bleeding was already controlled when we arrived on scene."
The other man turned as she headed for the driver's door. "According to the walking-wounded, there was a paramedic on scene. They practically gift-wrapped him for us.”
He had no time to ponder that as a pickup screeched into the lot. The bed held four people, two of whom were sitting with their backs pressed against the back window of the cab as far away as possible from a boy no older than twelve.
A man was hunched over the boy holding talking softly to him. Probably the kid's father. Ellis easily vaulted up into the back crouching down beside him and giving him a quick exam. She reached into her belt with the slap bands and Jack exhaled when she drew out a red band before calling for a transport.
“Deep laceration to the left arm, definite head trauma, and probable skull and facial fractures. Red.” Her voice barked out to the approaching team. Jack stepped forward and helped transfer the boy onto the bed. Grabbing the end of the bed he helped steer the bed inside and back into the fray.
Savannah grabbed up the IO drill and, in what was now becoming muscle memory, inserted it into the bicep of an elderly man and hooked up the blood bag. Her gloves wet with blood she quickly scribbled on his wrist card before moving on to the next gurney in the assembly line.
Dr. Harper rushed past on her way to the yellow zone pushing a little boy in a wheelchair, who was hugging his arm to his chest his face wet with tears, and nearly clipped Dr. McKay’s shin as she hunched over a bed.
“Harper!” Savvy snapped, her eyes narrowing at the med student. Under normal circumstances, she always tried to treat the students kindly but this situation was not normal by half and her patience was at an end.
The intern flinched screeching to a halt and locking eyes with the resident. “ We’re already up to our neck in casualties let's not try to add one of our own to the line. Watch what you're doing.”
The intern let out what sounded like a ‘meep’ and hurried off at a much slower and careful pace. Shaking her head Savannah stripped off her soiled gloves and grabbed another pair from the cart.
The next in line is a man probably in his late teens, whose facial hair is still patchy and still has youthful baby fat clinging to his cheeks, and looks as if he had been run through the ringer.
Savvy frowned at the boy and ran through her checklist on autopilot. Princess appeared quickly at her side checking vitals and cutting through his t-shirt and scruffy jeans while searching for wounds.
Pulling her penlight from her pocket she lifted the man’s lids and flicked the light into his eyes and cursed.
“Damnit, His left pupil was blown. A severe concussion at the least a TBI or active bleed at the worst. He needed Nero and fast.”
Savannah was just about to unlock the wheels and rush the boy to the red when she caught sight of a large angry bruise vivid against his left side, his breathing was short and shallow, and his skin was pale and cool to the touch.
“Shit, wait it's a hemothorax. I need a 20 French, Princess.”
Her movements were quick and sure as she inserted the tube and a gush of blood painted the sheets and her shoe covers.
“We need to get him to Red.”
“Let’s go,” Princess agreed and they were off and with some careful navigating were soon rolling their patient into the red zone. It was Robby who spotted them first in his blood-soaked gown.
“What’ve ya got?”
For the first time all day, Savannah didn’t stutter or blurt out something entirely inappropriate. It just went to show how mentally exhausted she was.
“Teenage male, unconscious upon arrival with a dilated left pupil, with chest trauma. Presented with a hemothorax.”
He gave a sharp nod and turned to look around. “Garcia,” he called and the surgeon looked up. “I have a case for Nero.”
The woman nodded. “Dr. Feldman is ready in OR 6 send them up.”
Princess smiled at the young doctor and patted her shoulder as two orderlies rolled the boy away. Robby gave her a strained and tired smile.
Maybe she wasn’t doing so horrible after all.
The last time Connor Rhodes had ridden in the back of an ambulance had been on his first day at Med. It hadn’t been an experience he hadn’t necessarily wanted to repeat but after spending hours with his patient he wasn’t about to leave her.
His red-headed miracle worker had climbed onto the top of the vehicle, the sun long past setting, and waved a red glow stick in the air to attract attention and it had worked. Summoning a few nearby firefighters and their jaws of life. The three men had seemed relieved to finally find someone alive so close to the collapse, where the wreckage was the most severe.
The paramedics and EMTs were stretched thin so it was between the five of them to get his patient to transport. The rescue litter that his new friend hadn’t known what to do with had come in extremely handy and after the woman had been extracted the five of them had carried her through the mine field to an arriving ambulance.
The PIC was too exhausted to argue with him when he insisted on riding along and had just shrugged.
His red-haired friend couldn’t follow but she stood at the back of the rig and smiled up at him tiredly. “Good luck—uh,”
She broke off only now realizing she hadn’t gotten his name.
He smiled. “Connor Rhodes, and thank you. Really.”
She flushed. “Mallory Hollins, and I’m just glad I could help.”
With that she reached out and closed the doors, smacking her hand against the back in a signal to move.
The ride to PTMC was a short one and the doors were quickly opened by a man in an orange vest. He seemed a touch surprised to find Connor hovering over the patient.
With practiced ease, he rattled off the woman’s condition and stats. He scrambled out behind the gurney as it was unloaded and hovered as she was transferred and dutifully followed as she was wheeled away.
The man in the vest tried to stop him. “Whoa, unless you’re injured I can’t let you in there. The family members go to the cafeteria.”
Connor gave a tired smile. “I’m neither. But I am the new cardio-surgical attending.”
The man blinked but Connor didn’t wait and walked swiftly into the ED.
“Hey!” The doctor called after him.
He made it past the double doors before he was met with security and the other doctor caught up to them. He was in the middle of trying to explain the situation when Emery Walsh stalked past barely sparing them a glance before freezing on her third step.
“Rhodes.” Her voice was as sharp and friendly as ever. They’d met only a few times. Once when Gloria was giving him a tour of the surgical wing and another when he had signed on the dotted line and been introduced to a few of his coworkers. At the time he had thought that a feral porcupine was probably more friendly than Walsh, and he was still convinced of that.
“Walsh,” he nodded in return. “Care to vouch for me so I can check on my patient?”
Emery blinked and pursed her lips as if helping him was causing her physical pain but she finally waved her hand. “He’s one of ours. Tomorrow officially but what’s a few hours?”
The security officer stepped aside with an apologetic grimace, but Connor was already moving falling into step beside his new colleague.
“What do you mean patient? You in the crash or something?” She questioned eyeing him as if she expected to find him missing a limb or a few digits.
“Yep, but I got off lucky. Bumps and bruises.”
She grunted.
He found his patient tucked into a trauma bay with three other victims. A man with dark hair was bent over his patient.
“Ah, this one yours?” Emery questioned as he came to a stop beside the gurney. Then her eyes seemed to light up when she saw the carnage before her. It was more than a little disturbing.
“Wow, how’s she still kicking?”
Both dark-haired men scowled at her. “She is still conscious Walsh and I’m sure she doesn’t need to hear your commentary right now.”
She smirked slightly and held up her hands in a peace offering.
The tall man turned to Connor and frowned. “Family members can’t be in here Walsh.”
She rolled her eyes and said dryly. “Dr. Robinavitch meet Dr. Connor Rhodes our new Cardiothoracic surgical attending. He was apparently on scene and that is his patient.”
Robby blinked and relaxed a fraction. “Oh, nice work here. She’s next up for the theater.”
Connor skirted around the chaos to the top of the bed to smile at the woman. “Hear that, VIP treatment. Just like I promised.” The woman’s smile was weak as she grasped his head and mouthed her thanks. He patted her hand.
“I’ll find you after.”
Promise? She mouthed up at him and he grinned. “Promise.”
Two women shuffled forward to collect her. “Ah, your rides here.”
He squeezed her hand once more and stepped away and stepped out of the bay.
Dr. Robby caught him outside the doors. “It’s a miracle she made it to the hospital let alone up to surgery.” He shook his head.
“Her airway was severely compromised. If you hadn’t been able to intubate…”
“Yeah,” Connor remarked solemnly. “I got lucky.”
Robby snorted. “That’s not luck kid, that is skill.”
Rhodes shook his head. “No, if Mallory hadn’t shown up when she did there would have been nothing I could have done.”
Robby tilted his head. “Is she the paramedic we heard about?”
Connor snorted. “God no, but she had a heavily stocked IFAK with her. Not that she knew what half the equipment was. She only knew the basics.”
Robby grunted. “You mind jumping in? We could use an extra set of hands.”
Connor nodded. “I don’t have privileges officially until tomorrow but I doubt anyone’s going to split hairs right now.”
Robby nodded and made a note to have someone track down Gloria to dot all the ‘i’s and cross the t’s. They would need all the help they could get.
Mia was exhausted when the first responders arrived and learned she was a certified paramedic she had fallen in with them. She was out of gauze, hemostats, and tourniquets. It was nearly eight at night, and her body was throbbing something terrible. All she wanted was to get to her hotel, shower, order three of everything room service offered, and fall into bed. In that order.
With tired legs, she made her way up to the triage unit on the small grassy hill they had skidded onto hours before. A few dozen patients were still on the grass surrounded by cops and a single EMT awaiting transport.
A familiar bark announced Reba, Mal, and Kenzie’s arrival. The dog hurried forward and forced her friends to follow. The dog gave a happy little sigh and pressed against Mia’s legs and she dropped her hand into the soft fur. The familiar weight of her dog unwound some of the anxiety that was knotted in her chest.
Kenzie’s eyes widened. “Jeez, you look like hell.”
Mia gave her friend a look and remarked dryly. “Thanks,”
She didn’t need the critique she was well aware of all the bodily fluids coating her skin. Now she gave her a knowing look.
“How bad is it?”
Mia winced. “I’m fine.”
Mal shifted, popping a hip and crossing her arms over a blood stained tanktop. “That bad huh?”
“I’m fi—“ she never got to finish the rest of that sentence when a voice cried out.
“No! No ma’am, don’t do tha— Fuck !” Mia and Kenzie shared a tired look and running only on adrenaline and spite Mia pressed herself into a run.
“I need help here!” A voice cried out desperately. Mal, being the taller and much slimmer of the two of them arrived first with Reba, and Kenzie and Mia arrived a few seconds later to a young EMT showered in blood kneeling over a tall woman with a panicked look on her face. A tall burly man kneeled beside her with a bald head covered in tattoos berating her.
“You never fucking listen, Margo!” He shouted. “He told you to leave it in. But you always know better. Fuck !”
The EMT was pressing heavily on a wound on the woman’s leg a piece of jagged metal lying discarded by her fountaining leg. Mia pressed forward.
“Do you have hemostats?” She fell to her knees beside him. The man looked at her with teary eyes, no doubt this was his first major scene and he had been left alone. Thrown into the deep end and told to swim.
He shook his head frantically. “We’re all out.”
“Alright, what do you have?”
“—I-I don’t know.”
Mia sighed. “Okay, I’ll take over here. You go see what we have.”
The man shook his head. “I can’t just leave a bleeding patient with a civilian.”
“Good thing I’m not a civilian. I’m a paramedic now move your ass.”
A look of joy passed over his bloody face and they switched a geyser of blood shooting forth before Mia could apply pressure. The EMT sped off, and she turned her eyes on the arguing couple.
“Hey,” she called loudly and they turned to her mid bitch. “Hi, don’t mean to interrupt. But sir, do you have a belt?”
The man paled. “No, I gave it to a cop a few hours back.”
She sighed and offered a tired smile and turned to the group. “Anyone? A belt, long purse strap?”
One by one the other victims shook their heads. Mia turned to look over her shoulder at Kenzie and Mal.
They gazed back with wide blue eyes. “Do we still have rope in the trunk?”
Kenzie shook her head. “No, I gave it all to the first responders hours ago. Even had to use Reba’s leash for a tourniquet.”
Mia let her head fall forward. Margo let out a sob as blood continued to soak through the gauze. “I don’t want to die!”
“No one’s going to die,” Mia interjected calmly and pressed down harder pushing more of her body weight into the wound. The EMT arrived back with an armful of gauze and pressure bandages.
Over the next few minutes, the two packed the wound and tightly wrapped it in the pressure dressing hoping for the best. But the blood quickly seeped through and the man beside Margo gasped.
“Margo, aren’t you a hemophiliac?”
Mia’s head shot up so quickly her neck cracked. The woman now looked terrified as she nodded. Mia didn’t blame her.
“Okay,” she began more calmly than she felt. “Tourniquets are not recommended for people with hemophilia anyway. Packing the wound isn’t helping so we're going to have to get creative.”
“How?” Margo’s face was now pale against her gray hair and she gulped.
“You’re not going to like it, but I’m going to have to plug the wound with my finger. I’m not going to lie it’s going to hurt like hell, but it's our best shot.”
The woman paled and swayed slightly. Mia turned to the EMT. I need transport now. I don’t care if it's an ambo or a mail truck find me a ride right fucking now!”
He rushed off to do as he was told. Mia crawled forward on her knees and looked at Margo with a weak smile. Looking down at her hands that were now slick with blood, Mia was grateful that she had forgotten to strip them after her last rescue had sadly passed. So they were clean and she wouldn’t be contaminating the wound any worse than it already was.
She looked at the man. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
The man blinked. “Oh, sorry I’m Eddy. I’m her step-son.”
“Okay, I need you to come down here and brace your Step-Mom’s leg. This is going to hurt and we can’t afford for her to move once I plug the leak,” she explained.
Eddy gave Margo’s hand a final pat before standing and moving around her and kneeling one hand pressed down on the top of the leg and the other grasped her ankle.
“Deep breath Margo,” she instructed and then quickly removed the gauze, tossed it away, and inserted a finger into the wound. Her scream was loud and guttural. It was the kind of pain-filled sound that cleaved to the bone. When Margo began to tilt back Kenzie raced forward and grasped the woman’s shoulders keeping her upright.
It took a moment but she finally found it. Pressing her finger inside and plugging the wound.
“I got,” she reassured the woman, who was now pale from blood loss and pain. “Now, do you have any more medical conditions?”
“Just a thyroid problem.” her step-son interjected gruffly. His face was pale and he looked like he was seconds from fainting.
“Age?”
Now Margo sniffed indignantly. “Now, that is not a very nice thing to ask.”
Mia and her friends snickered softly while Eddy groaned. “Margo,”
The older woman sniffed, “Oh very well. I’m seventy-six and today was both my first and final motorcycle ride. Never again.”
Margo declared glaring at Eddy. Now he looked scandalized. “It’s not my fault the damn road collapsed!”
“No,” Margo agreed, then scowled. “But it is your fault that you cut off a tractor-trailer.”
Now Eddy winced and Kenzie perked up. “That was you? Christ, you nearly got squished!”
“I am very much aware of that dear.”
Eddy blushed and gazed down at his hands and was saved from a reply when the EMT, whose name she never got, returned with another man. This one was in his mid-thirties and looked as if he were wishing for retirement.
The pink zone had finally sent up its last patient for surgery. Tossing her soiled PPEs in the bin she wandered over to the red zone hoping to find Dana and maybe an update.
She found Dana standing beside Dr. Abbot near the ambulance bay. With tired steps, she joined them.
“Any more incoming?” she asked trying to bite back a yawn.
Dana tiredly rubbed her eyes. “One more critical incoming. Let’s hope it’s the last.”
Savvy nodded and ducked back inside to grab gloves and another gown and goggles. The gown untied in the back flapped as she ducked back into the chilly Pittsburgh night.
“So, how was your day kid?” Abbot turned to her with tired eyes. “You proposition anymore attendings?”
Savvy whipped her head toward the man and gaped. His lip twitched as if his lips had forgotten how to smile.
“I did not!” she glared at him then demanded. “How did you even hear about that?”
His hazel eyes seemed to twinkle. “I’ve got more sources, kid.”
“Uuh.”
“Play nice, Jack,” Dana warned as the sounds of a siren reached their ears.
The ambulance came to a stop and the driver hopped down and headed for the doors.
“Seventy-six-year-old woman. Road rash on her left side from when the motorcycle she was riding on was forced into a skid, and metal impaled in her right leg.” Now the man gave them an irate look.
“Which she decided to yank out after being told multiple times not to. Oh, she’s also a hemophiliac. She’s made great life choices today.”
With that, he opened the doors to an argument being had between the patient and the woman straddling her leg.
“Margo, stay the fuck still.” the woman with her back to them snapped.
“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady.” the older woman huffed.
“Margo, don’t test my damn patients right now. I wouldn’t be sitting on top of you if you had listened!”
The victim scoffed. “That toddler? I have bunions older than that boy!”
“It’s called common sense Margo. When you get stabbed by something you don’t pull it out!” the woman bit out. “Now are you going to let the nice doctors help you or do you want to sit here all night and bitch?”
The old woman gave a dramatic huff and waved a hand in acquiescence.
“Oh thank Christ.” the medic groaned and gazed at Abbot. “Now she’s your problem.”
Savvy gaped. The moment she heard that voice her insides froze. No. She couldn’t be here. They should have been at their hotel long before the overpass collapsed. Safe and sound tucked in at the Hilton while they waited for her to get off work. Not anywhere near such an accident.
With Dana and Abbot’s help, the gurney was wheeled out onto the ground.
“Aunt Mia?” she cried out and every head turned to stare at her.
Her aunt looked exhausted and covered in blood. Savvy felt the urge to vomit claw its way up her throat.
“Hey, Sassy.” she smiled at her. “ Don’t worry none of this is mine,” she waved her free hand at the blood. “I’ll be right with you. After I’m free of Margo’s femoral. Say hello Margo.”
“Hello Margo.” the old woman muttered childishly.
Mia shifted herself a little as the gurney moved forward. Savannah lept forward and grabbed the bed ignoring Dana’s searching look as they entered the ED.
Dr. Abbot was already calling out as they arrived in the blood-soaked entryway where a few sagging doctors remained but came to life as the gurney rolled in.
“Not this one, kiddo,” Dana said firmly when Savannah moved to help. She opened her mouth to argue but the nurse shook her head.
“You're not in the right headspace now. Just finding out your family was at the accident scene, uh-huh. You need a break.”
With a weak nod, she slumped against the counter. “They were supposed to get in hours ago. I never even considered….” she trailed off her voice breaking.
The older nurse smiled softly. “Your mind was elsewhere. You had no reason to think they’d be there.”
“Yeah,” she whispered as she watched Dr. McKay clamp the bleed. Mia sat back with a groan and teetered precariously for a moment before Dr. Abbot’s hand landed on her back to steady her. Once she caught her balance she slipped off the bed and her knees nearly buckled.
“Oh damn,” Savvy swore and rushed forward. “How bad?”
Mia scoffed “I’m fine.”
Jack eyed her aunt with disbelief his hand hovering in case her knees gave way again. Savvy crossed her arms and glared.
“Number scale.”
“Savvy,”
“Number scale!”
Now she seemed to deflate. “9 1/2”
Savannah winced. “Come on let's find you somewhere to sit.”
Now her aunt scowled fiercely. “No, point me in the direction. You have work to do. There were still at least eight people waiting for transport. All minor bumps and bruises but are still incoming.”
Savvy had the urge to yank on her hair in frustration.
“Fine, but you have to promise you’ll rest tomorrow.” the young blonde doctor wagged a finger before she could answer. “My idea of rest not yours. You have a chronic pain syndrome not a hang nail.”
Savvy could tell her Aunt was about to argue with her until something caught her eye. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.
“Holy Shit!” her voice echoed through the space and across the bay where Dr. Robby froze brown eyes landing on them and he sighed.
Chapter Text
Chapter Three:
There were ghosts in her eyes.
Savannah could see them dancing and swirling beside shock, pain, and exhaustion. Seeing Robby seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Mia was no longer staring at the tall doctor with shock; she was gazing down at the dried blood on her skin. She was now only a physical presence in the ED; her mind was decades away.
Transported back to a stormy early December night that changed everything. A night when blood had saturated her skin, when pain danced across every nerve ending with every breath and beat of her heart.
Mia gave a sudden hiss through clenched teeth, her right hand reaching for her left bicep. A bloody glove pressed into the sleeve of her shirt, and then she looked down at the blue nitrile still slick with blood. But in her clouded mind, the blood was her own.
Slowly, her hand curled into a fist, and her breath came faster.
Dr. Abbot was no longer hovering but watching with a knowing concern.
“Auntie,” Savvy said, tentatively shuffling slowly forward. Careful to keep her hands down at her sides.
“Off,” Mia muttered, her voice thick, as she tore off her gloves and used her nails to scrape off the blood on her wrist. Her gray t-shirt was now an odd rust color sticking to her skin; her light blue leggings had taken on the look of a Pollock painting.
“Hey, let's get you cleaned up,” Savvy said soothingly.
Mia grunted, abandoning her wrists, and tugged violently at her shirt. Savvy’s eyes burned with tears. She knew all of her aunts battled PTSD; she had seen more than a few episodes. As a kid, they had scared her. Now they ignited a storm of rage and sorrow in her chest.
Finally finished in green, Fields paused mid-step on his way to the hub and took in the tense scene. He frowned and cocked his head like a confused puppy. He shuffled forward toward Mia as if perplexed why she was receiving no help.
Jack pinned him with a heated glare that made him flinch, and Dana grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back, fixing him with a look that highly suggested he be somewhere else, stat.
Dr. Puppy, taken care of, she stopped beside Savvy, her eyes bright with worry.
“Aunt Mia, I need you to listen to my voice.” She crept closer, keeping her voice low and her tone soothing. “He’s not here.”
Both Jack and Dana tensed at those words. But Savvy didn't pay them any mind. “He’s in ADX out in Colorado. He’s going to die there.”
Mia shook her head sharply and, with one sharp yank, pulled her shirt up and over her head, desperate to free herself from the blood. The black tank she wore underneath hid any stains and seemed to ease a bit of the panic, but it also exposed the scars.
Savvy forced herself to swallow down the lump of emotion. Dozens of thick, raised scar tissue looked even more sinister under the fluorescent lights. The longest criss-crossed her left bicep, but the worst of them ran up the outside of her right tricep, curved around her shoulder, and to the middle of her back, and a small puckered scar just above her right clavicle.
Abbot’s jaw clenched, and he forced himself to look away. He looked up at the ceiling, his nostrils flaring and his hand twitching as if fighting the urge to curl it into a fist.
“It's not your blood,” she soothed as she crept closer. “You’re safe.”
Mia’s eyes ticked around the room. “There was so much blood and the pain.”
The woman shivered. “And loud. Screams and thunder. They never heard the screams. His laughter—terrible laughter. Blades flashing from shadows. Lightning white and bright. Blood dripping from steel. They never heard us, no matter how loud we screamed.”
“That's right, it was storming that night.” Savvy nodded, trying to ignore the description of that night and concentrate on the slight spark of hope that burned brightly in her chest.
A frown twisted Mia’s pale, freckled face as she cocked her head as if straining to hear something in the distance. “It’s not storming now.”
“No, it's not.”
“I’m not there,” she whispered.
What followed that was a trial in humiliation. Mia knew she shouldn’t be, that none of this had been her fault. But ever since that night, when some heartless gawker had snapped a picture of a bleeding and beaten thirteen-year-old on a gurney being loaded into an ambulance, she had become incredibly private.
So yes, Mia shouldn’t have been embarrassed about a flashback, in public or not. But it still stung. For people she didn’t know and didn’t trust to see her so vulnerable ate at her. It felt suspiciously like when that photo was published. Her pain and trauma were out there on display for everyone to see. To gawk at, dissect, and pity.
Mia despised being pitied as a teenager; her distaste for it had only grown as an adult.
“Oh, that poor girl,” Mia had heard that for years. It had burned at her chaffing at already raw wounds. Most of those people had meant well. Many had known her since she was a newborn and knew no other way to express their sympathy. But that held little comfort.
Especially now, when her emotions were overstimulated and raw, Mia couldn’t take pity. Not now. So she did what she always did in situations like this: avoiding eye contact and battening down the hatches. Her face was now a blank mask. Her movements were tight and sharp, almost robotic in nature.
When her mind had cleared enough, and she was again present in her surroundings. She had been led away from blood-slicked floors and into a clean and unused room away from the small group of injured still waiting for X-rays, by Savvy and a nurse who introduced herself as Dana.
When Mia was settled on the crisp white sheets, Dana had offered a small smile. “I’ll see about finding you some clothes. Someone will be in soon.”
Mia gazed over the woman’s shoulder and offered a tired smile (that looked more like a grimace). “I appreciate it. But that’s really not necessary. I’ll be fine until I get to my hotel.”
Savannah gave a choked squawk of indignation. “But,”
Mia let her head lull to the side. “I’m fine, Sassy. I need a shower, food, and some sleep. I don’t need a doctor.”
Dana hummed and fixed her with a very motherly look. “You spent most of a day crawling through a disaster site.”
Mia fought the urge to slump. Instead, she stubbornly squared her shoulders and plastered on the expression of assurance and resolve: “And, thankfully, I’m just fine. I'm just friken exhausted.”
Dana gazed at her knowingly as if she could gaze through the layers of steel Mia had encased herself in to insulate her smarting psyche. It was not something she appreciated at the moment. She just wanted to get out of here and lick her wounds in private.
“I’m sure you are, dear. But for the peace of mind of your niece, a quick check-up won’t hurt.” The nurse nodded toward Savvy, who was wringing her hands and gazing at Mia beseechingly.
Mia turned her gaze back to Dana, still not quite looking her in the eyes, but gazing at her appraisingly before sighing. “Oh, you're good . Diabolical, but good.”
Dana grinned. “Lots of practice, sweetie. You are by far not the toughest nut I’ve had to crack.”
Mia frowned a bit and huffed. “Yeah, well, you caught me on a bad day. Usually, this is not a battle I’d lose. I also make no promises about being pleasant. I am surprisingly grumpy right now.”
Dana chuckled and nodded. “Rematch it is. Find me when you're back on your game. I’m always up for a challenge, and if this is you grumpy, then you won’t even crack my top hundred.”
Now Savvy snorted out a laugh. “Oh, it’s not grumpy you have to worry about. It's quite an anger. It’s fucking terrifying. She is quite vengeful at times.”
Mia then turned her eyes to Savannah and glared. “You’ve been spending too much time with Uncle Dallas.”
“Good to know. I’ll go grab a Doctor so we can get you out of here,” Dana said, pulling the curtain back to leave, but paused halfway out. “Oh, and by the way. Damn good job today, girl.”
Left alone, Mia barely had time to brace herself before Savvy was winding her arms around her, burying her blonde head in her neck, much like she used to as a child.
Hailey Presley Logan was no one's fool. Although she was only five years old and had an odd obsession with dinosaurs, that did not make her stupid. She knew when something was going on, and the grownups in her life didn’t want to tell her or Jules, and then insulted her intelligence by trying to distract her with extra bedtime stories.
Mum-mum had told them that Savvy was having a bad first day at work, and Mama and her aunties had gone to cheer her up. She hadn’t doubted that because Mama, Auntie Kenzie, and Auntie Mal did the same for her and Jules when they were babies, and pre-school got too stressful.
Further proof was waiting in the kitchen for them when they got home from kindergarten: chocolate and cherry cookies, Savvy’s feel-better cookies. They weren’t as good as Hailey’s favorite feel-better caramel cupcakes, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t eat them.
But when bedtime had come and gone and Mama hadn’t video-called for story time, Hailey had gotten suspicious. Mama never missed story time. So mum-mum may have tucked her and Jules into bed and read them six stories, but sleep was not in the cards when there were unanswered questions to be answered.
At least for her, it wasn’t.
Hailey scowled when Jules snorted in her sleep, grabbed her stuffed horse by the back leg, and beat it against their nightstand before flinging it away with a mutter, “ touch down,” before settling down.
She shook her head, black braids bouncing against her back. Thank God she was the normal twin.
Slipping out from beneath her cartoon dinosaur sheets, her feet landed silently on the thick carpet. She paused only long enough to snatch her stuffed stegosaurus, Millie, from beside her pillow.
As soon as she made it into the hall, it had been a cake walk to steal her mum-mum’s cell phone when she went to the bathroom. Settling into her favored hiding spot in the guest room walk-in closet, curled up next to the old vacuum cleaner.
With her tongue poked out between her teeth, she entered the code, silently judging her mum-mum for using 1,2,3,4 as her passcode. It was sad, really. Finding the right app, she tapped the screen a few more times before clicking her mama’s picture.
It was time for answers.
After a few minutes of reassuring her niece that everyone was safe, if exhausted, Mia’s mind drifted back to the newest drama that had been dropped into her lap.
As Savvy busied herself with starting a chart on the computer, Mia wondered how in the hell to approach a man you've never met and break the news that he is the father of the twin girls you’ve adopted?
Yeah.
Sadly, there was no playbook or chapter in a parenting book to help her. Either this didn’t happen to normal people, or no one wanted to relive it in a public forum.
With a groan, she let her head fall back and fought the urge to give a pathetic whine. She could only imagine how Jules and Hailey would react. Their excitement would be incandescent. Since they had truly understood what a dad was, they wanted to know where theirs was. Now she could only hope that this man, Dr. Robinavitch or Dr. Robby, according to Savvy, wanted to be a father to them.
Savannah was tapping away on the computer, but Mia paid little attention. Her mind was racing, exhaustion and pain thrummed in her bones, and she was no closer to a solution.
“What are we going to do?” Savvy hissed in a whisper, gazing at Mia as her fingers still flew over the keys. Her blue eyes were wide and wild, but they carried a tinge of relief—that she was no longer responsible for what was to come next. The baton had been passed, so to speak.
Mia let her head drop back with a groan. “Hell, I have no idea.”
Savannah’s fingers froze on the keyboard. She looked at her, dumbfounded. Aunt Mia always had a plan. Out of all her aunts, she was not only a mother hen but also the most prepared person she had ever known. Her plans had contingencies, and her contingencies had contingencies. It bordered on paranoia.
But after a twist of fate had sent Hayden Albert Reece into her life and that of her chosen sisters, Savannah couldn’t honestly blame her. Life had not been kind to Mia, Mal, Kenzie, or Savvy’s birthmother, Brooke. That kind of trauma changed a person at their very foundation, and the term ‘healing’ was a misnomer.
The bruises healed, the gashes scarred, and the fickel world soon forgot, when something bigger or more scandalous came along, but the mental wounds throbbed long after the body healed.
Tears burned the back of Savannah’s eyes. Even over twenty years later, what happened that night still lingered in the shadows. It was always present through all the laughter, vacations, and birthday parties. A constant reminder that popped up like an unwanted family member at the Christmas party.
Today, that skeezy Uncle Trauma had made his presence known in the worst way possible. Her aunt had already retreated behind those castle walls she had built for herself. A way to hide her battered soul from the world that had exploited her hurts before, until she could find somewhere private and unleash the pain and fury that bubbled beneath the surface.
Many times after Savannah’s grandparents had moved into a care facility and she had moved in with Mia, she had heard her aunts' sobs muffled by the sounds of the shower but still audible through their shared wall.
She had once brought it up to her other Aunties, and they had smiled sadly. That was just Mia’s way. She was the caretaker and would allow few people to take care of her.
Mia and Savvy both jumped when her cell phone rang, breaking the silence between them. Mia contorted her body to fish the device from her pocket and frowned when her mom’s ID popped up. She hadn't even known her mom knew how to video chat. A pit of worry opened up in her stomach. Worried that something was wrong with the girls, she hurriedly accepted the call.
Mia’s eyes widened when, instead of finding her mother, she was greeted by narrowed brown eyes and a bottom lip poked out in full pout.
“Hailey!”
Savvy’s eyes bulged, and her jaw dropped in an impressive impression of a carp.
“Mama , ” the five-year-old sniffled, allowing her bottom lip to quiver.
Mia fought back a smile—minipulative little thing. But having grown up beside Kenzie, the queen of the Disney princess eyes and crocodile tears, Mia found herself immune. She did, however, pity any future significant other Hailey would find. That poor soul was doomed.
“Just what are you doing out of bed, little Miss?”
“ You missed storytime!” Hailey pointed out accusingly. The feed bumped when she tried to cross her arms over her tiny chest.
Now Mia felt the familiar bite of mommy guilt. “I know, baby. I didn’t mean to. But I had to come see your sister.”
Savvy stood from her stool and moved to the head of the bed, poking her head into the shot.
“Hey there, Trouble,” she said, her grin widening when her sister’s petulant little face lit up.
“ Savvy!” Hailey cried out and gave a happy bounce, giving them an up-close view of the closet wall until she calmed down and righted the camera.
Mia rolled her eyes and handed the phone to the taller blonde. It wasn’t surprising that the twins hadn’t seen Savvy in person in nearly a month since she moved to Pittsburgh a month before her residency, and now any FaceTime call was treated like Christmas.
“Guess what?” the little girl cried excitedly. “ Billy Wallace got put in time out for sitting on Marcy Blevins and sticking crayons up her nose.”
Mia rolled her eyes toward the drop ceiling as if praying for patience. Billy Wallace was a menace. In the few short weeks since kindergarten started, that kid had glued macaroni to his face, told the teacher an inappropriate lymiric he learned from his grandpa, and had been caught peeing in another kid's cubby. Now he had graduated to low-grade Crayola assault.
Fantastic.
Mia hadn’t even realized he was allowed back in class after the urinating incident.
“Sounds like a real sweetheart,” Savvy remarked dryly.
Hailey shook her head frantically, sending her braids dancing. “ Oh, no , he’s a meanie head. Andy’s cubby still smells bad , and the crayons he stuffed up Marcy’s nose were glittery. Now every time she blows her nose , her buggers sparkle.”
Mia snorted a small laugh. Sarcasm was not meant for kindergartners, no matter how brilliant the kid was. Hailey continued regaling them with the exploits of her kindergarten class. Bradley Davis liked to lick the whiteboard, Allie Rosewood was obsessed with glue, and that Haile and Jules were currently planing a coup d'état agianst Preston Thomas, who they caught licking the recess preztles.
Mia seriously questioned what the teacher was doing while all this was happening. It may not be a bad idea to start looking for other schools, which brought her back to her most pressing problem—the tall doctor-shaped problem that was somewhere outside the curtain, stalking the halls. Totally oblivious to the bomb Mia would soon drop on his unsuspecting shoulders.
Mia knew Hailey and Jules would want to be close to their father. After dreaming of him for so long, they wouldn’t be happy to have him more than five hours away, which meant moving. Moving to a city she wasn’t familiar with, and worst of all, packing. Mia fucking hated packing.
Mia’s brain finally caught up with her spiraling thoughts and quickly shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself. She hadn’t even spoken a word to Dr. Robby. For all she knew, he could be a raging asshole. He may hate the very sight of kids and their always sticky hands.
“Hailey Presley Logan!” A stern voice echoed out of view, and Hailey froze, and her brown eyes widened. Her expression seemed to say “uh-oh” as her little head snapped toward the voice.
Then huffed. “Rats. Love yous, I gots to go now. I’m in trouble .”
Then the call cut off with the sound of the closet door flying open. Mia and Savvy shared a look before bursting into laughter. Hands clutching at her sore ribs, the lingering tension draining from her shoulders.
Savvy tossed Mia’s phone on the bed to wipe the tears from her eyes. It bounced on the thin mattress and landed by Mia’s foot.
“That’s always a nice sound to hear after a night like this.” A deep voice remarked as the curtain parted and Dr. Robinavitch ducked in.
Of course. The brunette fought the urge to groan, while Savannah froze beside her like a department store mannequin. Accept Mia had never seen that expression on any store dummy before. If it was deeply unsettling to a woman who had changed the young Savvy’s diapers, she couldn't fathom what it would look like to the poor doctor.
So she covertly reached over and gave the blonde’s arm a sharp pinch. Savannah squeeked, jumped, and did some demenated form of a gyration, looking very much like some kind of interpretative dance.
Savvy’s spasum drew a furrowed brow and raised eyebrows from the man. But it was better than the alternative. Internally, Mia sighed. She couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor, unknowing bastard.
If he decided to stick around, it would only be a plus that he was used to chaos because their make-shift family was batshit crazy.
“Are you alright, Dr. Nowak?” he asked, arching a dark brow at the flustered blonde. Dr. Robby looked both amused and slightly concerned.
Savvy offered a small, awkward smile, bashfully gazing up at him through her lashes.
Mia shook her head. If Savvy kept behaving like this, the poor guy would think she had the hots for him—something that would become infinitely more creepy when he found out about the twins. She doubted he would welcome the affections of his daughter’s older half sister.
They’d be springing earth-shattering on this clueless man. He also didn't need to worry about fending off Savannah’s advances. Poor guy just might run for the hills.
“Uga!” Savannah finally managed to grunt out.
“Oh Christ.” Mia snorted, trying to swallow a laugh and failing spectacularly. Then she turned to Robby, voice still shaking with amusement, and said. “Ignore her. It’s her default setting on the first day. Give it a week, and the awkward only pops up once, twice a week, tops.”
He gave a soft chuckle. It was a pleasant sound, and Mia took a moment to take him in. He was tall, with broad shoulders, warm brown eyes, and laugh lines crinkling in the corners. He was a handsome man, so in other circumstances, she wouldn’t blame a new doctor for swooning in his presence, but with the look of helpless horror in her niece’s eyes, she didn’t think that was the case. She had seen Savvy smitten before, and she had gone practically mute around the poor guy.
“If it makes you feel any better, it only happens with people she wants to impress. Her attendings and residents in Texas got used to it. So will you.”
Robinavitch nodded sagely. “Well, it hasn't been boring.”
“I have no doubt.”
Then she leaned forward and mock-whispered. “They also had a running pool on who she would embarrass herself in front of. The nurses made a killing.”
Robby nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Auntie!” Savannah glared at the woman in the bed, who no longer looked quite so burdened by earlier.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Sassy. Couldn’t help myself.” Mia gave her niece a sheepish look. “So maybe we could get this show on the road. I’m Mia Logan, Savvy’s aunt, and I currently stink, am covered in blood, and I’m starving. I would say it’s nice to meet you, but I am way past pleasantries right now.”
“Understandable. I’m Dr. Robinavitch, or Dr. Robby if you prefer. We’ll make this quick.”
He moved forward, and Mia inched up the bed as he reached for the stethoscope around his neck. “So I heard a rumor that you’re our mysterious paramedic.”
He gestured for her to sit up, and she did so with a hiss and a curse. He frowned down at her in concern. “I’m not hurt—chronic pain syndrome. My body is just royally pissed off at me.”
“Alright, so no injuries?” he asked, tucking the earbuds into his ears, and she shook her head.
“Nothing but some bumps and bruises.”
Robby froze as he stepped behind her slightly to listen to her lungs and caught sight of the scars. His eyes found Dr. Nowak on the other side of the bed, and she frowned sadly, holding the blood pressure cuff in a white-knuckled grip.
“So how long have you been a paramedic?”
Mia sat back when he moved away. “Oh, I’ve been out of the game a long time. Professionally anyway. I kept up with my certification, but it's been nearly a decade.”
“Huh,” he mused. “Well, you wouldn’t know it. You did damn good work.”
Mia smiled slightly. Only to wince at the bite of the blood pressure cuff had her biting back a curse as the pressure caused her already damaged and overactive nerves to make their displeasure known.
Robby gave the woman’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “I could order some morphine if you’d like.”
Mia’s smile was brittle. “Trust me, I’d love something to help take the edge off the pain, but I have fibromyalgia. Opioids would just rocket my pain into the stratosphere. Found that out the hard way.”
Even after so many years in medicine, it still got under Robby’s skin when he saw a patient in pain and was unable to do anything to relieve it.
“So how’s Margo?”
This time, he winced. “She, I am happy to say, is now surgery’s problem.”
“Ah,” Mia nodded knowingly. “But it may be good for their egos. Margo will take great pleasure in deflating them.”
Robby smiled tiredly, sitting down on the wheeled stool by the computer. “Shame they aren’t selling tickets. I would have brought popcorn.”
Mia thought momentarily, as he turned to the computer, logging her blood pressure that Savannah had called out, that maybe she could escape this situation without incident. That she could drag her ass to her hotel and over a cart full of room service, she and the girls could brainstorm the best way to break the news to Robby gently.
Fate, however, was not done with her family that night. As Mia shifted to swing her legs onto the floor, her foot knocked her forgotten cell phone, sending it skidding off the side of the mattress and clacking against the floor.
Kindly, Robby bent to pick it up, his finger grazing the button, making her lockscreen blare to life. There, bright, bold, and adorable, was a picture of the twins on their first day of kindergarten. His eyes found the photo, and it felt like the breath had been punched from Mia’s lungs.
Wide brown eyes found her green ones, and she nearly recoiled at the swirl of emotion gazing back at her. Surprise, anger, confusion, and hurt.
“W—who…” his voice cracked. Raw emotion was thick, powerful, and devastating.
Mia slowly squeezed her eyes shut and harshly rubbed her hands over her tired face. Fate really was a fickel bitch.
Chapter 4
Notes:
I so appraise all of those who have been reading this. It has taken me years to even think of picking up my metaphorical pen and writing again. As someone who lives with an actual chronic pain syndrome and crippling anxiety it’s very hard to post or interact with people in any form.
So thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the ride.
Chapter Text
Chapter Four:
When Jack Abbot returned to the hub after checking in on the boy with the skull fracture in the ICU and the baby doctors in the green zone, he found Dana, Princess, and Kelly slumped on desk chairs. The reserve shift had taken control of the floor and was helping the janitorial staff get the ED back in order. Slowly, things returned to normal, and soon, they would open up to walk-ins and traumas again.
Perlah was oblivious to his presence as she glared down into her cup, as if it had done her some unforgivable harm. Kelly seemed to be asleep, her chin to her chest, her body contorted at a very awkward angle. When she woke up, her neck and back would be killing her, but Jack wasn’t fool enough to wake her. Then he’d be the one in pain.
His leg chose that moment to announce its irritation, and he mentally corrected himself. He would be in more pain.
Dana glanced up at him, slumped in her chair, eyes heavy, her legs stretched over Princess’s lap, and clutching a cup of coffee like it was the only thing keeping her conscious.
Which, after the day they’d had it, probably was.
“He’s on the roof,” she answered before his lips could even form the words.
Jack sighed, pushed off the desk, and headed for the elevator—his prosthetic aching with every stride. The elevator, thankfully, arrived quickly and was empty. He stepped inside and punched the button before allowing himself the luxury of sitting on the side rail to rest and take the pressure off his aching leg.
The elevator dinged on arrival, and he pushed off the wall with a tired sigh. When he opened the door, he had expected to find his friend on the wrong side of the safety rail, staring out over the city burning brightly against the darkness. But to Jack’s surprise, he was leaning on the railing, his eyes not glued to the horizon but looking down at his hands.
“Well, can’t say this isn’t a pleasant surprise,” Jack remarked gruffly as he let the door clang shut behind him. Robby didn’t even look up; his gaze was still focused on his hands. Almost as if in a trance. But his shoulders tensed, and they relaxed slightly upon hearing his friend's voice.
Jack didn’t speak; he just observed, his arms crossed over his chest, and waited for his friend to acknowledge his presence.
When Robby finally spoke, his voice was gruff. “It’s been a day, brother.”
Jack scoffed loudly. “Yeah, no shit. A baby came in today in the back of a Chevy pickup. Twelve years old, still wearing his uniform from soccer practice. Had a fractured skull, a broken orbital, and a TBI.”
Robby flinched at the news. His shoulders seemed to hunch even further until they were nearly fused with his ears. Jack shuffled forward to stand at the railing. Resting his arms on the metal, he gazed at the lights, not seeing them.
“Just checked on him in Nero ICU. He’ll live.” His hands clenched into fists. “Dr. Creighton can’t say what the damage will be. The kid has to wake up first; even then, it might take months to know the full extent of the damage.”
“ Christ ,” Robby whistled harshly through his teeth. His head dropped, hanging down between his shoulders, defeated.
Jack nodded in commiseration. “Creighton said that, all things considered, the kid got lucky. Here’s hoping he has a little more luck.”
His friend gave a tired, almost cynical, chuckle. “Thought hope was for fools?”
Jack’s lip twitched as he straightened, and his hands, grasping the ends of the sethascope draped around his neck, absently. “Well, what are we if not fools. We’re the medics in the trenches, brother. We patch them up as best we can and send them up the line. We see the worst of the worst. And yet, we still come back every day to do it again.”
They lapsed into silence, just listening to the drone of city life, a symphony of car horns, sirens, and the whistle of the wind. For a few moments, they stood there enjoying the silence. When Jack finally glanced at Robby, he was still looking down, not at his hands like he first thought, but at his phone. His thumb was absently swiping across the screen, his eyes fixed on the device with an almost desperate intensity.
“What’s up?” Jack asked, his brow furrowed. Robby’s expression was difficult to read.
The taller man opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Robby pushed himself up and off the railing. His free hand came up to rub at the back of his neck while the other held his phone in the other with a white knuckled grip. A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled from his lips, and Jack was shocked by the sound.
“Brother,” he began cautiously. Jack had known Robby for years. They walked through hell together, a different kind of brother-in-arms, fighting a very different war. He had seen him after triumphs and losses and had talked him from the precipice that had called to them both at one time or another and had celebrated the wins over beer and a Pirates game. But he had never seen him like this.
He was practically vibrating with manic energy. Pacing back and forth, his free hand fisting in his hair before releasing and rubbing down his face. Jack noted that his hand had a slight tremor before he pivoted hard on his heel and paced another circuit of the roof.
Jack stepped into his path on the next pass, forcing him to stop or risk plowing into him. Robby was panting and on the verge of hyperventilating. His dark eyes were wide and, to Jack’s shock, brimming with tears. Jack could count on one hand the number of times he had seen Robby cry. It was not a release he granted himself in front of others.
He was much like Jack in that respect. He saved the emotional release for the safe silence of home. Free of prying eyes and their misplaced pity. With a rattling breath, Robby thrust his phone toward Jack’s chest.
Jack fumbled for a second, not expecting the movement, but finally got a grip on the phone. He glanced down at the black screen before he brought it out of standby and entered the code from memory. He drew in a breath, anxiety building in his chest at what would be waiting for him.
The Lock Screen gave way to a picture. Jack pursed his lips for a moment, unsure why this had sent his friend into such a state, then, like a punch to the chest—“My god,”
The girls in the picture couldn’t be more than five and were beaming into the camera, arms wrapped around each other. Both had tiny backpacks on their backs as they stood under a flowering tree. One wore small purple cat-eyed glasses, and the other clutched a stuffed dinosaur. A large German Shepherd was lying at their feet, its tongue lolling out.
He swiped the screen, flicking to the next photo in the reel. This time, the girls were kneeling on chairs at a kitchen island with large mixing bowls on the counter. The girl with the glasses proudly held a plate of cupcakes topped with gummy bears and globs of frosting. The other wasn’t looking at the camera but was scowling at her sister with frosting smeared across her hair and face, looking extremely put out.
He huffed out a small laugh. Jack was very well acquainted with that scowl. He was treated to it at least twice a week. Not nearly as much as Gloria, but Jack took pride in getting under his friend’s skin.
But the third picture just about made his grumpy old heart melt. The girls were curled up on a large sectional couch, together under a blanket, sound asleep. One of the twins' heads rested on a throw pillow, while the other girl was cuddled into her sister’s shoulder.
They were adorable, and God, the resemblance. He wasn’t sure how his friend was still standing. Jack couldn’t imagine how he would react in his place. Just the thought of being in the same situation had his chest tightening with anxiety.
Jack shook his head and slowly lowered the phone.
“Yeah—“ Robby said thickly, his tone holding a panicked edge. Jack blew out a breath and ran a hand through his curls.
“Christ,” he breathed out, and Robby nodded.
“Uh-huh.”
What the hell was one supposed to say in this situation? This was more Dana’s territory. Jack wasn’t built for this. He wasn’t good at heartfelt soul-bearing conversations, as his therapist constantly pointed out.
So he went for his go too. Sarcasm. Jack smirked up at Robby and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Congrats, brother, it's twin girls!” Then he looked at him solemnly. “May God have mercy on your soul.”
Robby fixed him with a scathing look, but some of the tension in his shoulders released at his familiar humor.
“Most people would ask questions.” Robby pointed out dryly. “Like how am I?”
Jack had turned back to looking out at the city with an air of nonchalance. Internally, his mind was whirling a mile a minute as he ran through scenarios. But Robby was already inches from a full-blown panic attack and didn’t need him adding to the anxiety. Asking any questions now would only allow that spiral of hurt, anger, hope, and Robby’s usual dose of self-loathing to grow. It was better to draw him out and let him vent.
Jack eyed him out of the corner of his eye and said smugly. “I can very clearly see how you are. You’re about to crawl out of your damn skin.”
Ah, there it was, that familiar scowl. Jack fought the urge to preen at his success. “As for everything else. I don’t need to. You’ll tell me whether I ask or not.”
Robby threw his hands up before linking his fingers behind his neck and groaning, before collapsing against the rail and glaring out into the night.
“I hate you,” he muttered under his breath, and Jack fought back the urge to scoff.
“No, you don’t.”
Robby didn’t reply; he just gave him the silent treatment. Jack shrugged and allowed himself to retreat into his own worries of what this new chaos might bring to his friend’s door.
Robby wasn’t sure how long they stood there. But the silence was begging to choke him.
“I’m getting ahead of myself.” He finally broke, and Jack eyed him, waiting.
“My head’s spinning, and I keep thinking about how I’m someone’s dad. Two tiny, adorable little someone’s.” Robby shook his head in frustration and turned to rest his back against the railing.
Jack mirrored him, crossing his arms across his chest, as he listened.
“But I don’t know that. Do I? Not for sure.”
Jack bit back a sound of disbelief and didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. Despite the resemblance, a paternity test was the only way to know for sure. Jack didn’t envy him. After the samples were collected, depending on the backlog at the lab, the results would take at least three days, and since it wasn’t a test the hospital lab conducted, they couldn’t rush the results.
“No, not with any scientific certainty. But brother, unless you have a brother you don’t know about. I’d say the odds are pretty good those girls are yours.”
He paused, staring at Robby until he met his eyes. “The real question is, do you want them to be?”
Robby froze, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets and looking away and down to his sneakers. “ I-I don’t know.”
Jack arched a brow and said sternly. “Don’t lie to yourself. You know, you’re just afraid to say it. Because saying it makes it real. Means you might get hurt.”
Robby could feel Jack’s eyes boring into the side of his head as he silently wrestled with his fears. The thought was overwhelming. Two little girls were tucked into bed in their Bucks County home; that could be his. Oblivious to the fact that miles away, their father may be standing on a hospital roof trying to convince himself it was okay to want to be their dad, that he was allowed to want a family of his own, no matter how broken he was inside.
“I do,” Robby admitted. It was barely more than a whisper, but the words changed everything. He could almost feel the shift in the atmosphere. The air around him felt lighter, and he felt hope for the first time in a long time.
Jack was grinning at him—a genuine knowing grin. “Yeah, I know.”
“God,” Robby laughed, a deep rumbling sound that seemed lighter.
“This is not how I thought my day would go.”
Jack gave him an incredulous look, his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. “Uh, I don’t think anyone expects this. ”
Robby sat down with his back against the rail, stretching out his long legs and holding his hand out for his phone. Jack sat beside him, glad to take some weight off his prosthesis, and handed the device back.
“Gotta say, they’re really fucking cute,” Jack remarked, drawing a slight grin from Robby. And if Jack wasn't mistaken, a glimmer of pride. “Don’t know how that’s possible with your DNA,”
Robby rolled his eyes but didn't dignify that with a response. “Julia and Hailey. That’s their names. Julia is the one with the glasses.”
Jack now felt it safe to ask probing questions of his own. Feeling it wouldn't send his friend into a spiral that would land him in a room next to the Kraken. “How’d you find out?”
“The paramedic. Dr. Nowak’s Aunt.”
Jack’s mind replayed his encounter with the woman—how she burst into the ED arguing with her patient while a finger plugged an arterial bleed. He also remembered what happened next: that familiar, glassy-eyed stare Jack had seen too often before, whether on the faces of victims, veterans, or in the mirror. The scars that contrasted sharply against pale skin.
It suddenly made sense why seeing Robby had seemed to be the final straw. She had spent the day patching up bleeding wounds among the chaos and destruction of a catastrophic accident.
"Her phone fell off the bed." He shook his head, still mystified how such a small thing had changed the course of his life. "I picked it up. The girls were her lock screen."
"See, that's what you get for having manners." Jack shook his head and looked at him with a mock ' I told you so' look.
Robby chortled. "Yeah, can't say you didn't warn me."
“So she’s their mom?”
“Huh?” Robby looked at him in confusion before realizing his mistake and shook his head. “No, adopted mom. Their birth mom,”
He broke off with a sigh. “I met in Crete.”
Jack remembered that. It wasn’t often that Robby took an actual vacation. This vacation had only come about because Robby dragged his ass into work when he had the flu and had argued with Dana that he wasn’t sick until he collapsed. That was when Gloria emerged from her lair, probably seeking the souls of fresh victims, and informed Robby that he would be taking some of his PTO, whether he liked it or not. She didn’t care where he went or what he did, but made it clear that if he set foot inside the ED, he had better be bleeding.
Robby had complied—grudgingly, at first—booking a last-minute flight somewhere warm and far away. He’d returned with a sunburn, a handful of souvenirs, and a quiet ease that lingered for weeks. Jack had been thrilled to see his brother more relaxed than he had been since the divorce. So he and Dana had chalked it up to a win. He was no longer snapping at med students or stalking through the ED with a thundercloud nearly visible above his head.
He studied Robby’s expression now, trying to read between the lines. There was a tension there, a thread of sadness woven into the fondness.
When Jack finally spoke, his voice was softer. “So, that’s where you met her.”
Robby nodded, and his gaze drifted toward the overcast night sky, as if recalling a memory just out of reach, obscured by alcohol and time. He ran a thumb along the scar on his knuckle, absently. “Yeah. It was---unexpected.”
“Her name was Brooke,” Robby admitted. “We met on a hiking tour of Samaria Gorge National Park.”
Jack hummed and let his head fall back against the rail.
Robby flushed slightly and laughed softly with a bashful smile. “She was beautiful and funny. We ended up hiking together, and it was nice. Easy."
He broke off, smoothing a hand over his beard. “It wasn’t anything serious—just one day. I flew out the next morning.”
“Why didn’t she tell you?”
Now Robby huffed and looked slightly guilty. “How could she? I left before she woke up, and we never exchanged last names, and I didn’t leave a number.”
“Where is she? Brooke, I mean,”
“Mia said it was complicated. When they were kids, something happened to them. She wasn’t specific. But apparently, Brooke never fully recovered.”
“Jesus.” Jack hissed out and squeezed his eyes shut. “The scars. You saw them?”
Robby nodded grimly. “Well, whatever happened had to be fucking brutal.”
Jack ran a hand through his messy hair. “She had a flashback in the ED after she brought in that elderly demon."
“Yeah, Fields told me.”
Jack scowled, his fingers clenched into his cargo pants. " Of course he had, " he thought bitterly. Flashbacks are intensely personal; in those moments, a person is laid bare. Every broken piece is exposed, and each episode pushes those fractured shards—forever trapped beneath the skin—deeper, causing fresh wounds and re-opening old scars.
They lapsed into a heavy silence. It wasn’t tense; they had been friends too long for that. It was almost soothing. To sit out in the cool night air listening to the heart of the city beat in their ears.
“I’m meeting up with Mia later today.” Robby finally said. “She said she’d explain more, and we’d discuss our next steps.”
Jack didn’t respond. He felt his brother wanted to say more. He was proven right when Robby looked at him with pleading eyes. “Said I should bring someone with me. For support or whatever.”
“Aw,” Jack cooed mockingly, and clasped a hand over his heart. “And you thought of me, I’m touched.”
Robby rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Yeah. Beginning to regret that.”
“What time?”
“Noon at the Monaco Hotel.” His voice trembled with nerves. Jack reached out and clapped him on the back.
“Don’t worry, I'll write you a prescription for Xanax."
Robby huffed out a laugh, the sound sharp and uncertain. “Just make sure you bring the real stuff. Places like Monaco, they probably serve anxiety on the rocks.”
Jack grinned, leaning back against the rail. Somewhere, distant sirens sang through the night, a reminder that their world never truly slept.
"So what do you think she'll say?"
Robby shrugged tightly. "No idea. Mia looked like I felt. Just said this was not how she wanted me to find out. And that she would answer any questions I had in the morning."
"So you'll be there?" Robby asked with a cautious hope. Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything. Besides, if you faint, someone’s gotta haul your sorry ass home.”
This time, Robby managed a genuine smile, small but persistent. For a moment, the city seemed quieter, the night gentler. Even for two brothers tangled up in things most people couldn’t imagine, there was comfort in the promise of standing together.
******
Kenzie was curled up on the large, comfy sectional in Mia’s suite, and Reba curled beside her as they watched Mia pace as she vented. After arriving at the hotel and getting to their rooms, Kenzie sat down on her king-size bed for just one minute to relax and hadn’t woken up til morning.
Which meant she had missed when Savvy and Mia arrived and all the twisted drama that had been dropped into their laps. Mal had been the one waiting for them and had been the first to hear the story. Well, the Cliff-Notes version, as everyone was too God damned tired to have such a momentous conversation.
No wonder Savvy had been such a mess of awkwardness. They finally had a face, a name that went with that face, and the man himself showing up in a matter of hours. Mia made another wobbly pass in front of the couch, and Reba lifted her head and huffed. As if declaring her humans were weird, before stretching out for a nap.
Kenzie, blinking away the last remnants of sleep, stretched out her legs and tried to gather the threads of the story as Mia continued her restless circuit. The sunrise cast dappled patterns across the suite, illuminating the tension in the air.
Still in her borrowed pajamas, Savvy sat cross-legged on the floor, idly tracing patterns on the rug and avoiding eye contact.
Mal perched on the edge of the coffee table, arms folded, watching Mia with a mix of concern and curiosity. The silence stretched, punctuated only by Reba’s soft whine and the occasional clink of Mia’s bracelets as she gestured emphatically.
Kenzie finally spoke, her voice soft but steady. “Okay, you need to calm the fuck down."
Mia stopped mid-pace, her face a mask of indignation. “ Really , Kenz? And just how am I supposed to do that?"
Kenzie arched an unimpressed brow. "By sitting down and resting, for one. I'm starting to hurt just watching you."
Three pairs of eyes fixed on Mia, and she felt her lips purse in annoyance. Usually, in situations like this, which stressed her to this extent, she baked. It distracted her from her spiraling thoughts. But the suite did not offer a kitchen, and the hotel staff had gotten huffy when she had called them at five am to ask if they had space for her to use.
She looked over at Savvy, who was gnawing on her bottom lip, pulling her knees into her chest. Then, as if to add to the guilt, Reba blinked her eyes open, let out another low whine, and pawed the air in her direction.
With a muttered curse, Mia dropped onto the couch, head flopping back, eyes staring at the ceiling. The cushions shifted beside her as Reba adjusted to lay her furry head on her lap, nudging her hand for pets. Her mind still racing, she carded her fingers through her soft fur.
Kenzie watched her, arms crossed, but her expression had softened a fraction. “You don’t have to solve everything, you know,” she said, tone gentler. “Let the world spin a little without you at the helm.”
Mal leaned forward, their tone gentle. “We always figure it out. We've been through so much worse than this."
Mia let out a shaky breath, focusing on the rhythm of Reba’s breathing, the silky warmth pressed against her thigh. She closed her eyes, letting the dog’s presence anchor her for a moment. Across the room, Savvy’s anxious fidgeting stilled, and she looked up, her gaze meeting Mia’s, and gave a reassuring smile.
"You all survived a serial killer when you still had a ten o'clock bedtime. I think you've got this." Savvy grinned up at them. The older women snorted in dark, in cynical amusement before they lapsed into silence.
The silence was thick but not oppressive, edged with the fatigue and worry that comes after too many sleepless hours. Mia flexed her jaw, then opened her eyes and found Kenzie’s still waiting, patient and stubborn. “Fine,” she muttered, “but if I go completely stir-crazy and set the place on fire, I expect you all to bail me out.”
Kenzie’s laugh was small, making the room feel less heavy. “Deal. But maybe try breathing first.”
Mal snorted and grinned, dragging her long legs onto the wooden table and crossing them beneath her. "You're one to talk. You are just waiting for one of us to look away so you can sneak off to your computer."
Kenzie tried to plaster a look of innocent offence on her face, but failed mightily and gave a petulant pout. "Okay, fair. But in my defense, everyone Googles people nowadays. It's perfectly logical, even practical.
Savvy snorted as she stood from the floor and gave a luxurious stretch. "Yeah, cause you were going to stop at Google."
Mal nodded sagely. "Yeah, we'd know everything the internet has to offer, from his childhood home address to his preferred brand of deodorant."
Kenzie caught and called out, but didn't bother with the mature approach and instead stuck her tongue out at Mallory. Then said.
"I'll have you know I am always ethical in my snooping."
Now Mia lifted her head and fixed her friend with an amused look. "Oh really," she drawled. "Then how exactly did Colin Rush end up on the No Fly List?"
A flush dusted Kenzie's cheeks, and she stammered, searching for an answer that wouldn't be an outright admission of a vengeful felony, but gave up quickly and went on the defensive.
"He called you a broken fat bitch!"
Mia arched a light brown brow. "So? I've been called so much worse," she paused cocking her head as if thinking. "Usually by government drones."
Now Mal perked up from her place on the coffee table. "Didn't the head of the FBI call you a Frigid Bitch?"
Mia shook her head. "Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. "That was the head of Homeland Security."
"Not sure you should all look so proud of that," Savvy muttered as she looked around for her sneakers. If she wanted enough time to get to her apartment, change, and get to work on time, she would have to leave soon.
Mia shrugged absent-mindedly, not looking at all chastised. "We had a contract. He doesn't get to add new tech, not specified in writing, because he wants it."
Savannah rolled her eyes fondly, hugged her aunts quickly, and scratched Reba's ears. "Kay, I have to get ready for work. You'll let me know how it goes?"
"Course," they muttered in unison. Savvy fought back a smile. This was why, as kids, everyone had called them the quads. Twins in all but looks and blood, no one knew each other better. She felt a pang in her chest that her biological mother had once shared the same connection with them. Until she had floated away, leaving them as the triplets.
Savvy had only just found her shoes when Kenzie finally broke. "Okay, I tried. But my skin is starting to itch."
She declared, jumping to her feet and nearly tripping over her long sweatpants as she hurried for the door, "I'm getting my laptop. Be right back." Then she was out the door.
Then, she suddenly popped her head back in. "Have a good day, kiddo. Try not to offer up your uterus for your attendings' use this time."
The blonde groaned. "Oh my God. I hate you."
"No, you don't!" Kenzie's voice was faint but audible as she walked down the hall.
Mal lifted her arm, glanced at her smart watch, and hummed, "Seven minutes. I expected her to break sooner."
**********
Mia was in the process of pulling on her shoes when a knock sounded on the door. On the couch, Mal and Kenzie froze, mid-tug-a-war over the laptop. There was a moment of frozen indecision where wide eyes stared at the door with a profound dread.
Mia hesitated, her foot halfway into her ballet flat, and gulped. Kenzie and Mal both looked like deer caught in the headlights of a hunter's car. The laptop was suspended between them, each holding a corner.
This was it. Finally, after so many years, there would finally be a resolution. An answer to questions that Brooke had left when she'd faded away like a ghost in the night.
The second knock, a little louder and a little more frantic, glavenized her. She shoved her foot into her shoe and limped forward. On the couch, Mal yanked the laptop away, slamming the lid shut and vaulting over the back of the sofa, leaving Kenzie to scramble to her feet and nervously smooth her hair.
There was a loud clack of the laptop being dropped on the small dining table, but Mia was already moving, her adrenaline surging. Her trembling finger pushed back the safety latch and curled her finger around the cool steel of the knob. Kenzie gave an undignified squeak as it turned.
Standing in the hall, she found Robby and the other doctor from the night before, who had been there when she came in with Margo. Mia tried to offer a reassuring smile, but doubted she was successful. Dr. Robby didn't seem to notice; he looked as equally wrong-footed as she felt.
"Come in," she fluttered her hand, waving them in. Robby just started at her, and the man behind him gave him a firm nudge, pushing him over the threshold.
"Thank you," the shorter man nodded, followed his friend in, and closed the door behind him. The click of the door closing was like the bang of a gavel in the quiet suite.
For a moment, no one spoke. The silence rippled with unease, thick as wet wool. Dr. Robby shifted from foot to foot, his hands twisting at the hem of his sweater. He glanced at Mia, then at the others, then down to the wooden slats of the floor as if the grain of the cherrywood boards would hold all the answers.
Finally, Mia's brain fully engaged, and she huffed. The sound drew surprised glances from the others. "Oh, this is ridiculous."
It was safe to say that everyone in the room had been in more high-stakes situations than this before. Standing here like nervous teens on their way to prom wouldn't help anyone.
Mia squared her shoulders, striving for a steadiness she didn’t quite possess. “All right,” she said, her tone firmer, “let’s not beat around the proverbial bush. We might as well get to the point before Mal chews her fingers off.”
Kenzie gave a brittle laugh, the sound more tense than humorous. Mal froze as she bit at her cuticles, quickly dropped her hand, hiding it behind her back, and gave an overly bright smile that looked slightly psychotic in nature.
"Relax, Mal. We're here to talk, not kill Batman," Kenzie muttered to her friend, and the Joker-esque smile painted on her face, then gazed at the two men.
“Well, there's nothing like a roomful of awkward to get the morning started. Better than coffee." Kenzie rolled her eyes and waved a hand at the sofa and wingback armchairs. "We might as well sit."
"There's coffee and cookies if you want any.” Kenzie nodded to the coffee table as she flopped on the couch. “Personally, I voted for tequila, but I was overruled."
Now Mal gazed at her sister in disbelief and threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "Do you remember the last time you had tequila?"
Kenzie frowned and looked as if she was trying to recall. Mal snorted. "No, you wouldn't, but that bar owner in Cabo sure does."
"So do the cops," Mia muttered more to herself than anyone else. Kenzie paled, a look of embarrassed recognition on her face, and gave a quick nod. "Right, Mexico. Tequila bad . Gives bad ideas."
"Yeah, strip-fire limbo will always be a bad idea." Mal agreed mockingly.
The unnamed doctor snorted and looked amused at the exchange. Robby even looked more at ease as the two women bickered.
Mia nearly sagged at the normalcy. This was a piece of her everyday life, infusing a moment that very much wasn’t, and it soothed her frazzled mind. She turned to the two doctors and gave a small smile.
“Right, introductions would probably help. The one bleeding on my floor is Mallory Hollins.” Mia said, waving a hand at the redhead, who cocked her head in confusion before spotting her bleeding finger and shrugged, wiping the blood on her jeans.
“The brunette currently regretting her life choices is Kenzie Dalton,” Mia smirked at her friend, who flipped her off in return. “And I’m Mia Logan.”
Robby smiled kindly and said. “Michael Robinavicth, but everyone calls me Robby, and this is Jack Abbot.”
Jack gave a polite nod, but his hazel eyes caught Mia’s attention. They were a curious mix of amusement and concern. The two men folded themselves into the armchairs as Mia lowered herself onto the sofa beside Kenzie.
“So I can only imagine the questions you must have.” She began after a moment, forcing herself to meet the same warm brown eyes of her twin daughters.
Robby nodded, swallowing thickly. “How old are they?”
Mia’s answering smile was small and genuine. “Five. Born June 16, 2019 in Philadelphia.”
Mal reached her undamaged hand into the pocket of her hoodie and pulled out a glossy photo. Moving around the couch, she held it out to him. “Here,”
With trembling fingers, Robby reached out and took it. Two pink, swaddled, sleeping newborns met his gaze.
“Julia Sarah: 6.5 pounds and 16 inches long, and Hailey Presley: 7 pounds, 16 inches long. Born at 38 weeks.” The redhead recalled with a soft, wistful smile.
Robby gasped out a small sob as he looked at the photo. A tear escaped his waterline and trickled down his cheek.
“They're perfect.”
“Damn right. Two of the three most perfect babies I’ve ever seen.” Kenzie butted in with a beaming grin. “Savvy being the other, of course.”
Robby’s thumb traced over the tiny faces. Faces that looked so similar to his own at that age, but, in his opinion, so much prettier.
Mal perched herself on the arm of the sofa, drawing a leg up to her chest, and took in the scene. It was both heartwarming and heartbreaking.
The silence that descended wasn’t heavy or tense, but poignant. A small part of her wished he could have been there when they had come squealing into the world as the thunder echoed overhead. He should have been part of the argument that cropped up when Kenzie wanted to name one of the Daenerys, because she had come into the world on a clap of thunder.
But the selfish part of her was grateful he wasn’t. If he had been, Mia never would have been able to adopt them, and Mal refused to relinquish the time she had spent with them, even if changing blow-out diapers had been part of the deal.
She and Kenz had moved into Mia’s after the birth and wound up staying the better part of a year due to COVID. Mal may not have been in a place in her life to be a single parent, like Mia, but she would never give up her Auntie duties for anything in the world. Not even Ryan Fucking Gossling. That’s how much she loved those tiny minions of chaos, and she would fight anyone who tried to take them away to death.
“Did she try to find me?” The question was soft but hinted at the anger that burned beneath the surface.
It was then the smiles died.
Kenzie flinched, Mal pressed her lips into a thin white line and Mia squeezed her eyes shut. This was one of the moments they dreaded.
“God, I wish we had tequila,” Mal muttered softly, and Mia gave a commiserating nod.
“She didn’t. But it wasn’t done maliciously,” Kenzie said softly, sitting forward to pour herself a cup of coffee from the carafe.
Jack shifted in his chair at the sudden change in the women sitting across from him. Robby looked over at him, seeing fear burning bright in his eyes.
“To understand why Brooke is the way she is…we have to tell you a story. It’s not a happy one and it’s—not one that’s easy for us to tell.” Mal began leaning closer to her sisters; her already pale face was almost ghostly against her copper hair.
Jack felt his stomach drop from the scars he had glimpsed yesterday in the Pitt; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what would follow. But the look in their eyes had dread flooding through his veins. The raw pain that lived there. It was the kind of pain that cut to the bone and never entirely left.
“Have you ever heard the name Hayden Albert Reece?” Mia’s voice was hollow when she spoke.
Jack and Robby exchanged a look and slowly shook their heads.
“No,” she laughed, it was a cold and bitter sound that nearly made Jack shiver. “No, most people don’t know him by that name.”
Her eyes flicked up and pinned them in their chairs. “How about the Sandman? Ever heard of him?”
The name hit both Robby and Jack like a sucker punch. Robby bent at the waist with a harsh exhale and folded down, elbow digging into his thighs and face hidden in his hands.
“The Serial Killer?” Jack voiced the question that Robby couldn’t bring himself to ask.
“The one and only,” Kenzie interjected grimly. Her eyes may have been focused on Robby and Jack, but they were glassy and faraway.
“Has twelve confirmed victims—probably more.” Mia’s green eyes flicked over Robby, who was still processing to lock with Jack’s. They were no longer just a picture of pain; they also burned with rage.
“Then he came for Brooke.”
Chapter 5
Notes:
Thanks to all who have read and replied to this story. As someone with crippling anxiety (social anxiety and nearly every other category as well) and chronic pain. This is my escape. So thanks again and enjoy!😉
Chapter Text
Chapter Five:
"Such a shame he didn't know she wasn't alone," Kenzie said mockingly. A sly grin played at the corners of her mouth as she leaned back, arms folded. The room was thick with anticipation, Jack and Robby exchanging loaded glances.
"Before we start, we should probably clarify a few things. Or at least start with happier times. We had a lot of those, once upon a time," Mal piped with a sad smile as she pulled her long legs up onto the arm of the couch and crossed them beneath her. Her finger tapped lightly against her shins." The four of us met in the sandbox."
"The literal sandbox," Kenzie joked with a fond snicker, and Mal nodded with a reminiscent smile. "It was just another day at the park. But this time, another kid was throwing sand at Brooke, and she was crying, and it pissed us off."
"Zander Becker was a little douche as a four-year-old and was an even bigger one by high school," Kenzie interjected with a scowl.
Mal and Mia rolled their eyes and exchanged a long-suffering look, as if they had heard this particular gripe many, many times before.
"Anyway," Mal cut her off with a pointed look that said, 'Now is not the time,' and turned back to Robby and Jack. "I tackled him, Mia hit him with her shovel, and Kenzie kicked him in the balls."
"Yes, I did." Kenzie declared proudly, swiping her long dark hair off her shoulder before winking at Robby and Jack, drawing an amused snort from the man with salt and pepper curls.
"From that day on, we were inseparable." Mallory plowed on, ignoring her friend. "Our kindergarten teacher was the first one to call us the Quads. But it stuck. We may not look alike, but we understood each other instinctually."
"We used to freak out our third-grade teacher so bad." Mia, admitted with a small smile. "Finishing each other's sentences or having silent conversations and just knowing on an instinctual level what the others would do. It's like we shared a brain. It practically became our identities."
Mal agreed. "Practically everyone called us that. Need the blackboard scrubbed? Ask the quads. Leaves piling up? The quads. Babysitter cancels? Someone calls the short quad. Computer on the fritz? The loud quad's got you. Cat in a tree? Forget the fire department—get the blonde quad. Science project disaster? Track down the ginger quad."
"Half of our neighborhood didn't know us by name," Mia grumbled, and Kenzie nudged the brunette with the scuffed toe of her sneaker.
"You're just miffed that you were the short one."
Mia rolled her eyes but didn't contradict her.
"But we loved it. We were a unit, and as long as we were together, we thought we could face anything." Mal shook her head with a grimace as if pained by her childhood naivety. "We were fools."
Jack grunted in affront. "You were kids."
"Hmm," Mal hummed with a cynical frown twisting her lips.
Seeing their distress, Robby sat taller in his seat with a compassionate look. "You don't have to do this."
With a steadying breath, Mia inched forward on the cushion, her elbows resting on her knees, and her eyes fixed, locking on his. For a moment, he was stunned at the depth of the pain that lingered in her light green eyes.
"Yeah, we do," she objected firmly. "You deserve to know. Just like one day, we'll have to tell Hailey and Jules. Because they deserve to know the reason the woman who gave birth to them left. Just like you deserve to know the currently hypothetical 'mother' of your children."
Mal offered up a trembling smile and reached out to squeeze Mia's shoulder. She finished for her sister, allowing her a brief respite. "We have years before the twins will be old enough. But if we don't tell you now, we never will. So, bear with us. This isn't easy for us to do. Even after so many years later."
Internally, Mia was at war with herself. She knew that this was the right thing to do. To explain the course of events of one stormy night in Bucks County, which led them to this swanky hotel in downtown Pittsburgh.
Her body was screaming at her to get up and run. To put as much distance as she could between herself and Robby. Her hands tingled in warning of a brewing panic attack. Without thought, she pursed her lips and let out a shrill whistle.
Jack's eyebrows jumped toward his hairline at the sudden noise, and already a nervous wreck, Robby startled in his seat. Then the tell-tale sound of clacking nails against hardwood floors heralds the arrival of a yawning German Sheppard wearing a black harness.
When the dog flopped down at her feet, she pointedly nudged Mia's hands until she moved them and allowed the dog to rest her head on her lap. Mia flushed in embarrassment and offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, this is Reba, she's my service dog. Say hi, Reba."
The pooch lifted her head, looked at the men, and raised her front paw in a polite wave, then resumed her previous position. Trembling fingers curled into sable fur and basked in the comforting weight of her k-9. Mia still looked as if she was about to march off to battle, but Reba's presence did loosen the heaviness in her chest and the knot in her throat.
"It was December 7, 2001." Mia began, twisting gently in fur as she reluctantly allowed herself to step back in time. Even as she spoke, Mia could taste the metallic tang of dread that saturated every word, the way memory pressed against her bones, insistent and gnawing. A monster trapped inside her mind, waiting to be unleashed. She paused and nearly choked on the words, knowing it would slice open every scar as it surfaced.
They had done this before with Savannah when she was twelve. Mia still remembered how Savannah had sat, arms folded, chin tilted with teenage defiance, demanding a truth too heavy for any child to bear. It had been agony then, a trial by confession, each sentence a careful bare-footed step across a sea of broken glass. And they hadn't even told her the full extent of the horror of that night. Those oozing wounds Mia and her sisters had kept to themselves.
They had survived before, and Mia knew they would again. Still, trauma made logic feel like a distant nuisance. Like a mosquito buzzing in her ear.
"It was the day after Brooke's birthday. We hadn't been able to celebrate on her actual birthday because it was a school night."
Robby thought back to that young woman who had been so bright and happy in Greece, had such a tragic past—a past that was now part of his, maybe, daughters' lives.
Robby may not know the three women sitting across from him, but he felt a burst of respect for them. Despite the odds, they were still standing, with their heads held high. Willing to tear themselves open for his benefit so he would understand the circumstances that led him to this moment.
"She was the baby in our group and was so excited to turn thirteen like us and become a full-fledged teenager." Mia's lips curled slightly in the corner in wistful remembrance, a memory of better times when childhood had been simple before it turned to ashes in their hands and was swept away by the wind.
Leaving four young girls bloody and beaten and trapped between their naive, sheltered peers and pitying adults, while they were neither. No longer a child but also not yet an adult.
The two men flinched. Thirteen? Jesus Christ.
The silence settled thickly, as if the room grew heavy with grief. Robby's throat felt tight—he was a stranger to this history but now tethered to it, drawn into a world of stolen innocence and the bonds that had been forged in fire.
Kenzie's voice was gentler now, stripped of its earlier sarcasm, as she picked a frayed thread on the cuff of her jeans, refusing to make eye contact. "Yeah. We had all these plans for the weekend. Movies, sleepover, Brooke wanted to make cupcakes with little silver stars on top—she called them 'shooting star wishes.'"
A nervous laugh shook Mal. "That whole night was just… normal, you know? Silly. Loud. We didn't think—couldn't think—that anything evil could touch us."
Why would they? Jack Abbot mused to himself. They had been kids, barely more than babies. That thought a locked door and closed window guaranteed safety. It was a harsh truth that they had been too young to realize or have cruelly snatched from them. The thought sparked a rage in his gut, but he tried to keep his face impassive.
These women didn't need him to be angry on their behalf; they had proven simply by still breathing that they were no damsels in distress and would happily stomp on his balls, much like Zander Becker, before accepting pity. They weren't much different than him after losing his foot. Angry, haunted, and broken in ways normal people would never be able to comprehend. But refusing to see himself as a victim while his heart was still beating, and so many of his brothers had been sent home in flag-draped coffins.
The women around him radiated the same defiance, their laughter sharp and their eyes unyielding. Each one carried scars—some visible, others stitched into the spaces between words and silences. Together, they formed a camaraderie built not on the illusion of safety, but on the raw, jagged truth of survival.
In a way, their brokenness was a badge: proof of battles fought, losses mourned, victories snatched from the jaws of defeat. They rarely spoke of what had been taken; most didn't, nor did they dwell on what would never be restored. Instead, they met each day with an audacious blend of hope and fury, daring the world to challenge their right to live on their own terms.
He understood, intimately, the cost of refusing self-pity. It was not a matter of pride, but of necessity—a way to honor those who could not stand beside him now, and a promise to those who could. As he sat there, he found comfort in their company, in the knowledge that pain did not have to be solitary and that, sometimes, the fiercest kind of strength was simply refusing to be destroyed. So Jack refused to insult them with the emotions he had on their behalf and settled for silence.
Mia nodded, her gaze fixed on the large flower arrangement of pink and orange Dahlias, Japanese Anemones, and white hydrangeas sitting on the dining table as if she were trying to count each petal. Seeing her distress, Kenzie reached over, squeezed her arm, and picked up the story.
"But we probably watched every Leo DiCaprio movie she could find. Like always, we eventually ended up in Brooke's room around eleven. A storm was coming, and she wanted to do our nails and braid our hair before the storm set in."
From the corner of his eye, Robby saw Jack sitting ram-rod straight in the cushy armchair, his hands curled into fists on his thighs, and a look of passivity pasted on his face. But the slight ticking in his jaw betrayed his ire.
"Around one, the storm hit. Brooke loved storms, was obsessed with weather patterns, updrafts, and cold fronts. She wanted to be a meteorologist." Mal shook her head sadly, trying not to allow herself to drift to what might have been. She had done that too much as a teenager, and it had nearly consumed her. So she stubbornly refused to travel that path again.
"It was a nasty storm. The wind howled, and rain pelted the window. Brooke turned on her radio to listen to the forecast while joking about tornadoes whisking us off to Oz."
Kenzie's voice broke. "Brooke kept telling us about a strange weather phenomenon we didn't understand. All I knew about the weather was that when I was small, my gran said if it was only raining, the angels were crying, and thunder was the angels bowling."
Mia's hands twisted in her lap, knuckles white. "We weren't scared, though. Not really. It was just one of those nights that felt safe, like nothing could reach us there in her room with the pink fairy lights and the walls covered in posters of Justin Timberlake."
"God, but she loved her some Justin," Kenzie muttered, looking at her with fond exasperation.
Robby watched as the three women fell silent, each lost in their own shadowed recollections. The air felt thick, heavy with memory. Even Jack, whose presence usually seemed immovable, looked as though the weight of that long-ago night had fallen on his shoulders.
"She fell asleep first," Mal whispered. "Brooke. Right in the middle of painting her nails, blue glitter everywhere."
Kenzie's breath hitched. "I remember she said she hoped the storm would last all night so we could wake up and everything would smell clean. She loved the smells after a rainstorm. To us, it just stunk of wet dirt. But she insisted, and it was useless to argue with her."
But it hadn't. The world hadn't been clean at all come dawn. Instead, that night had left a mark no amount of rain could rinse away.
Robby wanted to reach across the space between them, to find some words that could mend what had been broken. But all that came was a quiet, "What happened next?"
The three women exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them—one of permission, of trust, of shared burden. Then, softly, Mia began again, voice raw but unwavering.
"At some point, we must have all dozed off. But something woke me around three o'clock." The woman paused and reached up to fiddle with her necklace, her fingers toying with a small fox pendant. "It was probably thunder. Even if Great Aunt Millie swore it was a premonition."
Kenzie scoffed at the notion. "She also thought Amelia Ehardt was living in her retirement home under the name Min-Jee Kim. So I'm just going to go with thunder."
"Ironically, I wasn't even supposed to come that night. I had strep and was on antibiotics, and I just wanted to binge-watch Golden Girls cocooned in my blankets on my sofa at home." Mia continued.
Robby swore momentarily that he heard thunder rumbling softly in his ears—a distant echo of that fateful night. And Robby, listening, understood he was being entrusted with sacred pain, standing in the eye of a storm that had never truly passed.
"But I didn't have the heart to tell Brooke no. Not to this. We were constantly stopping her from doing things and saying no. Brooke was so innocent." Mia's eyes met Robby's and then flicked over to Jack. "You have to understand, she thought everyone was inherently good."
Both men flinched slightly, and the girls nodded in unison. "Yeah, so we were constantly stopping her from doing something dangerous. Kenzie had to scare off a few high school seniors sniffing around her a week before. Oh, she was so angry. She was adamant that they just wanted to be friends. Didn't talk to us for days."
Mal leaned forward, balanced precariously on the arm of the chair, grabbed a sweating pitcher of lemonade, and poured a glass before pressing it into Mia's hands.
Robby watched as Reba whined slightly and pulled away before turning and easily jumping onto the couch, forcing Kenzie to shift away quickly or become a dog pillow. The Sheppard inched forward, nudging up Mia's arm, shimmed onto her lap, and stretched out, applying deep pressure to relieve Mia's anxiety and keep her grounded in the present.
The dog's head turned, fixing deep brown eyes on him and then on Jack, and snarled slightly, exposing a small bit of gleaming white fangs. The dog didn't growl or bark, but gave the two strangers encroaching on her territory a silent warning. The K-9 equivalent of “Go ahead, punk, make my day”. Then, confident her message had been received, she nuzzled into Mia's stomach and snuggled in, her point made.
"Those bastards just saw easy prey." Kenzie snarled, blue eyes narrowing. "It was common knowledge that Brooke was very trusting. They wanted to invite her to the high school's bonfire party in the woods. Brooke didn't know that wasn't an actual thing. I did."
"So I felt like I couldn't say no." She sipped her drink before continuing, "My throat was killing me, so I went to the bathroom for some Tylenol. While I was in there, the power went out. At first, I thought it was the storm. But from the bathroom window, I could see the neighbor's house, and they still had power."
Kenzie reached out and grasped Mia's shoulder, then looked at the two men. "She thought it was us playing a prank. We'd done something similar before."
"She didn't think much of it—why would she? Most thirteen-year-olds don't just assume a serial killer is breaking in," Mal said dryly.
"True," Mia said, furrowing her brows and absently dragging a hand through the dog's fur. Reba nuzzled closer, her cold, wet nose pressing against her inner bicep. Her warm, steady breaths against her skin were strangely comforting. "It was pitch black, and I nearly tripped over Brooke's field hockey stick. She always left things everywhere—once, her tennis racket ended up in the shower. We have no idea why that stick was in the hall, she didn't even play field hockey, but it might've actually saved me."
"Thankfully, Brooke had this battery-operated star projector. That painted galaxies and constellations on the walls and ceiling. She loved that thing. It was almost always on. It wasn't very bright, but it was enough that I could see something. I didn't look like a person. Not at first." She gave a slight shiver.
"Then the image shifted. Turning from dark purple and blues to white. I thought I was seeing things. God, how I wish I was seeing things." Her voice broke, and she gulped.
"But you weren't," Jack said gruffly, and she turned her tired eyes on him and said grimly, "But I wasn't. There he was with the Phoenix constellation painted on his back." Mia broke off with a gulp, a white-knuckled grip on her glass. Robby's breath caught. This was how a night of terror and carnage had begun.
"That projector was the only reason I saw him. If it weren't on, if I just walked in." She explained, and the other two women inched closer in support. This was not a part of the story they could honestly tell. They had still been asleep. Oblivious to the danger that had crept into their lives. That stood triumphant over a sleeping girl sprawled across her bed. So sure of his own success. Exalting in his power as he stood as a phantom in the darkness. Untouched by light. A king in his domain.
Unknowingly, as he watched, someone watched him in return. Struck dumb in a dark hallway. Totally unaware of the collision about to come for him. How three girls, in desperation, would knock him down, break his crown, and burn his kingdom of bones to ashes.
"I still wonder why I didn't run. You know? Why did I creep toward the door instead of away? "She shrugged and tried to swallow down a broken sob, but a small whimper escaped her throat, and hugged her dog closer.
Kenzie gripped Mia's shoulder tighter while Mal slowly stroked Mia's sweaty hair. Robby and Jack watched, faces etched with helplessness—a pain that eroded with each encounter. In the world of the ER, suffering came in waves, relentless and unyielding, and all the training in the world couldn't teach you how to heal a battered soul. Sometimes, you could only stand among the ruins and bear witness.
"It wasn't even a conscious thought. I didn't plan, I didn't think, I didn't turn and run for help." Mia shook her head, as if still bewildered by her own actions. Fight or flight. Her body had chosen to fight without any input from her.
"I just moved. Went at him with that field hockey stick. I just swung and kept on swinging. I didn't even realize I was screaming."
"That's what woke us," Kenzie spoke, contouring around Reba's bulk to link her arm through one of Mia's. "At first, we didn't have a fucking clue as to what was happening. The last thing I remembered was lying on the floor watching the storm through the window. Now Mia's shrieking like a banshee; there's a man in the room, and she's beating him with a stick."
Mia's hand trembled, handing her glass to Mal, before the tremor spilled its contents. "He didn't expect a fight. I think—I think he thought it would be easy." She let out a shaky laugh that was sharp as steel. "But he was wrong. God, he was so wrong."
"To me, he looked like a demon. I saw his eyes," Mia whispered, voice raw like scraped knees, as she gazed blankly ahead. No one contradicted her. “I still do sometimes, in my nightmares.”
The room seemed to darken, as the shadows came out to play, drawn by the gravity of that memory. No one contradicted her. The room seemed to darken, as the shadows came out to play, drawn by the gravity of that memory.
"Dark and soulless, empty of all emotion except rage. He wanted blood. He wanted Brooke." Now defiance sparked in her own eyes, glittering in the light. "But we weren't going to let him have her. And it was like, if he couldn't have just her, he'd settle for us."
Jack cleared his throat, but no words came.
"It didn't take long to realize what was happening. Brooke was terrified, paralyzed with fear. She just curled up on her bed and screamed bloody murder."
"We thought for sure Brooke's mom had heard us. That she would come running to help us. But she never came. We didn't know then that she couldn't. That he had found her first and had left her unconscious on the kitchen floor." Kenzie picked up the thread and continued with the story.
"Mal, the bat-shit crazy redhead she is, she grabbed a lamp off the nightstand, ripped the cord out of the wall, and leaped on the bed. And into the fray."
The woman perched on the arm of the couch shrugged. "I was nothing more than an angry shield for Brooke. Mia was like a woman possessed."
Mia shook her head, not in denial, but in disbelief. "I just… I kept swinging. The stick broke in half—did you know that? I didn't, not until after." She released her choke hold on the dog and carded her fingers through her dark hair and curled her fingers into fists as if she were considering yanking on it. "And there was blood, a lot of blood, more than I had ever seen. By the end, we were soaked in it. I sometimes still smell it at night when I'm trying to sleep. And he made this sound, like—like he couldn't believe it was happening to him."
"Yeah," Robby muttered darkly, and he felt his teeth grind as he clenched his jaw. "Bet he wasn't the only one."
Kenzie didn't seem to hear his muttered words, and she powered on through sheer force of will to get through this.
"But he was so much bigger than us—stronger. It was only a matter of time before he got the upper hand. It was the surprise that gave us the advantage." Kenzie said bitterly. "He was bleeding badly from the head, and then he started laughing."
"I never saw the punch coming." Mia flinched, and a hand came down to smooth along her right cheekbone as if she could still feel the echo of the blow.
"When Mia fell, I brought the lamps down on his head. It was glass, and it shattered, and I know it cut him up even more. But it was like he didn't even feel it. He just smiled at me, blood dripping down onto his teeth, and grabbed me by my shirt and threw me. I remember being surprised at how strong he was. It was like I weighed nothing.”
Mallory halted briefly, long enough to clear her throat and take a deep breath. “He threw me right at Kenzie, and we crashed into the window seat. Then Brooke seemed to snap out of her haze."
Mia's voice was strained and tired. "She tried to run. But he was on her before she could even get off the bed.”
"I thought he was trying to strangle her. I didn't see the knife," Kenzie admitted thickly, tears flooding bright blue eyes. "And I didn't think, I just lunged onto his back. I bit, kicked, and punched. But he tossed me off his back. Sent me flying right into the mirror over Brooke's dresser."
Robby rubbed his hand over his face, desperately needing to look away. As a doctor, he was used to helping—suturing, setting broken limbs, and treating what hurt. These were wounds he could not treat. Strangers sitting not on a bed in his ED, but in a hotel, willing to bear their deepest pain for the benefit of two little girls. Girls who may be his own blood.
"Brooke managed to get free. We didn't know it then, but she had been stabbed. It was too chaotic— too reactive. Maybe it was the pain that triggered the flight response, but she made a break for the door. I couldn’t find anything to use as a weapon, so I just started throwing things at him, but it didn’t distract him.”
Mal shivered, her already pale face going ashen. “I still am not sure what he hit her with, but—God, the sound. I swear I heard something crack. And she just went limp.”
The tears would no longer be held at bay and trailed down Mal’s cheeks in a steady stream, and a broken sob burst past her lips. “I thought she was dead. That we had just watched our friend die right in front of us."
The silence that followed Mal's words was thick, almost suffocating, as if the room itself mourned alongside them. Mia, being the closest, tugged at Mal’s arm until she leaned into her and soothingly rubbed her back, as tears shimmered in her own eyes. Reba lifted her head and gently licked the redhead’s hand.
Kenzie dug into her pocket and produced a packet of tissues, and passed them down. Her trembling lower lip clamped tightly between her teeth. So tightly that Robby worried she would draw blood. But he didn’t try to stop her, even if the doctor in him was clawing at him to spare her more pain. Kenzi, Mal, and Mia were desperately trying to hold on to some form of composure.
"But she wasn't," Jack said to break the tension, his voice calm, controlled, and soothing—grounding, a verbal tether to keep them from slipping away.
Mia's eyes locked with Jack’s, a silent look of thanks. Eyes still gleaming with unshed tears, but her voice was steady when she finally spoke. "She moved, though. Brooke—she whimpered, and her fingers twitched. I didn't think I'd ever be so grateful for a single breath."
"But she needed help. And that was something we couldn't do. He wasn't going to let us leave." Mal croaked, her voice still thick with emotion as she harshly wiped her eyes and nose with a tissue. As if angry with herself for allowing herself to break. “He didn’t wear a mask. Why would he? None of his victims had ever escaped. But we saw him. Could identify him. He wasn’t going to let us escape.”
"The only thing we could think of was to lead him away. There were three of us and one of him. Maybe one of us could slip away and get help," Kenzie said as she clutched her coffee cup to her chest, trying to absorb the comforting warmth. “It was so much harder than we imagined. But we did it.”
Kenzie gazed down into her coffee, as if in a trance. Until Mia spoke, her words caused Kenzie and Mal to share a look of surprise and mind-numbing relief.
“It was dawn before we were rolled out of that house.”
The line in the sand had been drawn. Mia had finally reached the end of her tether and could go no further. This had only been about Brooke. And Brooke’s part had ended when she had fallen to the floor unconscious.
It was immaterial what had followed. The desperate struggle, the rendering of flesh, the snap of bones, the tears, and silent prayers for mercy—Robby and Jack didn’t need to know any of that. Didn’t need to know how Mia had been flung over the gallery bannister, to land with a heavy thud on the marble floor. Or how Mal sprawled unconscious in the hallway, lying in a pool of her own blood. Or how it had been Kenzie who had struck the final blow. That one last desperate Hail Mary had saved them all. One unguarded moment after he had pitched Mia over the railing and gazed down at her from on high.
Half-delirious with pain and fear, Kenzie moved on adrenaline alone. Pushing to her feet and running as fast as her damaged legs would carry her. Years of watching her older cousins play football had taught her how to tackle—squaring up her shoulders and ramming home solidly on his back. She hadn’t expected the railing to break and send him tumbling down to the ground floor. Kenzie also hadn’t meant to follow him down, but momentum was a heartless bitch, and she had followed him over. Landing a few inches to his left on her hands and knees.
He landed with a sickening crunch, the heavy wrought iron table groaning under the force, but remained unyielding. Now, his screams were swallowed by the booming thunder, reduced to guttural gasps of agony as he lay face down, his body contorted and sprawled across the table, limbs dangling and spasming in agony.
Once the centerpiece, a magnificent Waterford crystal vase was now a weapon of glittering shrapnel. A mosaic of razor-sharp shards was driven deep into his flesh, and pristine white poinsettias lay around him, their pure petals stained crimson with blood.
Kenzie, in those few moments before agony and exhaustion had swept her into darkness, she relished his screams. She would be a liar if she denied that visceral feeling of victory, and if that made her a terrible person, she was more than fine with that. He had tried to destroy some of the people Kenzie held most dear, and he deserved to bleed in recompense.
It might have been Mia who started the battle and Kenzie who won it, but it was Mal who saved them all. She came too, half-blinded by blood pooling in her eyes, the cast of Stomp pounding away at the base of her skull, and a left leg broken in four places. Inch by excruciating inch, she dragged herself from the upstairs hall down the carpeted stairs to the door and out into the early morning and across the street to pound on the neighbor's door, leaving a trail of blood in her wake.
Helen Davis-Riley, Brooke’s neighbor, was the mother of the Sheriff and had been the first black woman to be Head of Surgery at Temple University Hospital, and had retired the year before. When she had opened the door, she hadn’t screamed or panicked. She simply set to work, turning into the house to shout for her husband, and then falling to her knees beside Mal.
She had triaged Mal first before leaving her in her husband's care and moving across the street. There were no police, no backup in case of danger, and Helen hadn’t cared.
The silence was shattered not by thunder, but by the wailing of sirens. The Sheriff's patrol car, an ambulance riding its bumper, screeched to a halt outside. He found his mother crouched like a broken statue in the rubble of Brooke's bedroom, the air thick with the scent of copper, the lingering ache of pain, and shattered innocence.
As the first pale rays of a new dawn bled across the sky, EMT’s being escorted by grim-faced deputies, rolled Brooke and her mother, who were wheeled out on stretchers. By the time the rest followed, the street had filled with a silent, staring crowd of neighbors. All gazing at the victims being removed from a house of horrors that would become infamous.
A home that would be visited by the families of Reece’s other victims, who left flowers and stuffed animals where the monster who stole their daughters fell. Candlelight vigils were held on the lawn. The less scrupulous of visitors were quickly chased off by the neighbors, who refused to tolerate the place being treated as a pilgrimage sight for sickos.
"Reece was evaced last,” Kenzie said with a biting smile, and Robby nodded in agreement. “As bad as we were, he was no stunning beauty himself.”
Then she proudly locked eyes with their guests. “His pelvis was shattered by the fall. Marble and iron don’t give. Six of his ribs were broken. He was more black and blue than flesh-toned, and he had internal bleeding where his rib punctured his lung.”
“And don’t forget he was blind in his left eye.” Mia’s voice was chilling in its intensity and may have made lesser men’s balls retreat into their throats, but Robby and Jack were not that type of men.
Beside her, teetering precariously on the arm, her tears finally slowing, Mal gave a proud, if savage, grin. “Yep, our Mia practically had half his eyeball under her thumbnail.”
Then she laughed woman in question rolled her eyes. “Nothing so dramatic. It wasn’t gauged out. Just a touch mangled.”
….
After discharging a woman who had come in with ‘leprosy’, which was really a sunburn from too much time on the beach in Ohau, with too little sunscreen. Savannah found Langdon at a charting station with bulging chipmunk cheeks—a chocolate, buttercream, and cherry compote smear on his upper lip with crumbs dusting the front of his scrub top and charting station.
“What number is that now? Five—six?” Savannah arched an amused eyebrow, a teasing smirk curling on her lips. Frank looked up at her with the same look as her baby sisters when she caught them sneaking candy before dinner.
Dana snorted as she walked around the desk, now in a fresh scrub top after an encounter of the bodily fluid kind, courtesy of a drunk and overly amorous frat boy.
“Try ten.” The blonde remarked with a crooked grin, and Langdon flushed and tried to deny it. But with his mouth crammed full of cookies, only a shower of crumbs and a garbled “Nu-uh” came out.
“Still three behind Shen. He’s been guarding the containers like a troll under a bridge.” Dana rolled her eyes when Frank muttered something that sounded like ‘ass-tard’ but assumed he was actually saying bastard, or so she hoped.
Savvy snickered and shook her head as she set her tablet down, leaned her arms on the desk, and stretched her sore muscles.
Frank swallowed hard, a painful look on his face as he choked down the last crumbs, before chasing it with a gulp of coffee. "A troll under a bridge? The man practically built the bridge out of empty containers. He has a serious problem."
"And you don't?" Savannah asked, gesturing to the crumbs at his station. "I've seen less of a mess at a toddler's birthday party."
He brushed at his scrub top, sending more crumbs to the floor. "Hey, at least I'm not a troll.“
Dana snorted as she scanned her badge at the computer. “Says who?”
Frank gave her a wounded look, poking out his bottom lip in a pout. “Rude. I am an appreciator of the culinary arts. Shen is just devouring them like he hasn’t eaten in a week.”
Dana shrugged as she reached into her pocket and removed her glasses, pausing to check that they were vomit-free before perching them on her nose. “I’d take a troll over central 10 and his misguided flirting.”
The charge nurse turned slightly to look at them. “He even tried to serenade me with a painfully loud version of “I like big butts.”
Frank winced and gave a sad shake of his head. “Oh, Sir Mix-a-Lot. The guaranteed way to a woman’s heart.”
Savvy bobbed her head from side to side until her neck gave a satisfying pop. “More like a punch in the nose. It’s a toss-up unless it came with wandering hands. Then always.”
Dana snickered. “May have been more effective if he wasn’t wearing a onesie covered in vomit.”
Savvy patted her shoulder. “I think after that you deserve a coffee and a cookie.” She fixed Frank with a gimlet stare.
“I’m sure Frank and Shen won’t mind sharing.”
With lightning-fast movements, he gathered a napkin-wrapped cookie from the desk and clutched it to his chest. “Mine.”
Savvy scoffed. “Relax, Cookie Monster, I’m heading for the break room. So Dana, coffee, cookie?”
Dana paused her typing and turned to her with a motherly smile. “Thanks, hon, two sugars and a dash of almond milk.”
“Good luck with the cookies. Shen’s in there again.” Dr. Samira Mohan spoke as she arrived at the desk, coffee in one hand, nibbling on her pilfered sandwich cookie. “Shen’s in there again. Had to bribe him with one of his iced coffees. It was like Buridan’s Donkey. It was hysterical.”
Savvy snorted and tightened her ponytail. “Please, this ain’t my first rodeo. Back in Texas, two techs got into a fist fight over the last caramel brownie.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Frank perk up in his seat. She fought the urge to shake her head; it was like he was starving. “Brownies?” He said in an almost reverent whisper.
“I still have a ton locked in my locker,” she paused to fix Frank with a look when his eyes gleamed. “Don’t even think about it, Langdon.”
Samira grinned as her fellow resident deflated. “Seriously, these are amazing.”
Savvy smiled at the compliment. “Thanks, Aunt Mia’s recipes are the best. One day, I’ll have to bring in her Mac and cheese.”
Behind her, Frank gave a pitiful moan. “Is she single? I’ll marry her. Just tell her to meet me at the courthouse.”
Dana didn’t look up from her screen and pointed out. “You’re already married.”
“Bigamy is still frowned upon, Frank.” Samira grinned. “Not to mention illegal.”
Leaving Frank at the mercy of Dana and Samira. Savvy quickly slipped away from the hub and headed for the break room. Finding it empty but for the small stack of containers on the counter that was nearly empty, she fought down a grin as she mixed up a coffee for Dana and one for herself, wrapped three of the cookies in a napkin, and headed back out.
Savvy handed over the coffee, rested the treats at Dana’s elbow, and gazed up at the board. “So, gatekeeper, who’s next?”
Dana paused mid-sip, glanced down at the screen, and winced slightly. “Myrna.”
Savvy furrowed her brows. “O-Kay, is she dangerous or something?”
Dana stood on tiptoe and looked over at a small elderly woman in a wheelchair with blonde hair who was handcuffed to it. “Oh, good, she’s still cuffed.”
The blonde exhaled in relief, and Savvy wondered if this was going to be a replay of her meeting with the kraken. As if reading her thoughts, Dana shook her head. “Oh, she’s relatively harmless, just unique.”
“Unique as in eccentric, or that she’s going to try to bite my nose off, unique?”
Dana paused for a moment to bite into her cookie as she mused. “The first. Unless you try to feed her red Jello, than the second.”
“Ah, got it. Green Jellow for the win.” She gathered up her tablet and brought up Myrna’s chart. “On it.”
Myrna looked up at Savvy’s arrival, and a predatory look gleamed in her eyes.
“Hey, there, Sugar, you’re new.” The blonde smiled. It was a smile, Savannah recognized. It was one Kenzie’s Great-Aunt Cherri wore all to often. That woman’s snark was like a second skin, each comment a carefully aimed jab, each smile a harbinger of a condescending remark.
Savvvy felt herself relax a bit. “I am. I’m Dr. Nowak, so what brings you into our little corner of Hell today?”
Myrna paused for a second, cocking her head to the side, sizing her up. “I killed my John.”
She was testing her. Seeing if she flinched, and since she was looking at her intake, she knew she was in for drunken disorderly, and flashing an officer, but she was willing to play the game. “Hmm, did he deserve it?”
The woman beamed and winked. “Oh, sugar. They all do.”
Savvy jotted a quick note on her tablet. "Patient presents with an amusing sense of humor and possible homicidal tendencies. Suggesting a diet of green Jello only."
"So you killed your ‘John.' Tell me, was he a particularly nasty one? Did he forget your anniversary? Skimped out and bought gas station flowers? Try to give you red Jello?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Because if so, then he totally had it coming. No jury would convict.”
Myrna tossed her head back and cackled. Her handcuffs rattled against the armrest as her body shook with mirth. “Oh, Sugar. You’re a keeper.”
Savvy grinned, oblivious to the look of astonishment on Princess’s face. Usually, Myrna hated the newbies and enjoyed making them squirm; she had more than one cry and had bitten Jesse on her last visit.
The only ones she was ever so gracious with were Danna and Robby. And considering she insisted on calling one of them Fruitcake, that wasn’t saying much. With fresh gossip to share, the nurse scurried off.
After checking and logging her vitals, Savvy arched a wry eyebrow at the woman and asked. “Now, off the record. How’d you do it? Was it vintage Clue, Myrna in the library with the candlestick? Or something more pedestrian?”
Myrna gave her a sly look and leaned forward. “Bulldozer.”
Savvy folded her lips into a line and bopped her head from side to side as if weighing her answer. “Oh, crushing. Impressive, it makes a statement.”
After making another quick note on her chart, Savannah smiled down at her. “Okay. Seems like you’ve had a very trying day, Myrna. And could use some relaxation. So here’s the plan: I will assume you haven’t taken your meds today.”
Myrna’s twisted grimace was the only answer she needed. “So we'll get you your meds and a nice Haldol chaser like last time, and I’ll put in an order for all the green Jello you can eat, and I’ll even throw in a blanket fresh from the warmer to sweeten the deal. Sound good?”
Myrna chuckled and patted the doctor's hand. “Sounds like a plan, Sugar.”
“Great, I’ll put those orders in while you rest up.”
“Don’t be a stranger now, Dr. Sugar.” Myrna declared, pointing a warning finger at her.
Savvy chuckled in return. “I wouldn’t dare, Ms. Myrna. Don’t want to have to be on the lookout for bulldozers everywhere I go.”
She left Myrna cackling as she headed back toward the desk.
“She’s like the Myrna whisper.” Princess declared to Dana and Dr. Shen.
Savannah’s eyebrows rose as she walked in on the conversation. “I hope that’s a compliment.”
“It’s a fucking miracle, is what it is,” Shen muttered, as he gazed at her, assessing her. “Are you a witch or something?”
Savannah huffed. “I’m assuming that’s your way of asking if I’m a good witch or a bad witch?”
“Basically.” Shen nodded sagely, Dana rolled her eyes, and Princess smirked.
“Nothing so basic.” Savvy waved a dismissing hand. “It’s called experience. She reminds me of my Aunt Kenzie’s Great Aunt Cherri. But Myrna, it seems, kills fictional, at least I hope, John’s, and Cherri has an invisible twin and likes to torment her neighbors by wandering around outside naked as she screams Bon Jovi at the top of her lungs.”
Now, Dr. Shen wore a look of profound horror. “Oh God, there’s two of them?”
…
"Brooke had a fractured skull and a subdural hematoma, and she had to be rushed into surgery. Before we even made it to the hospital.” Mal explained, no longer balancing on the arms of the sofa but was curled up on the floor, wrapped in a blanket she’d retrieved from a decorative trunk.
As doctors, Jack and Robby shared a heavy look. The brain was a tricky mistress. There was so much that science could still not explain or predict when it came to head injuries. Both of them in their careers and seen people with terrible trauma wake up with little long-term effects, and those with significantly less damage wake up with severe deficits.
After a long pause, Mia inhaled shakily and continued, "The doctors said it was a miracle she woke up at all. They didn't expect her to remember names, let alone faces."
Kenzie drummed her nails with chipped teal polish against the stark white of her coffee cup. "But she did. True, she couldn't remember that night, but apparently, that's not so unusual. Mostly, she recalled sounds. The sound of the storm, our screams, and his laughter."
"We thought she was going to be okay," Mal explained as she absently played with the ends of her hair. "We weren't allowed out of bed. Not even for a quick visit."
"Back then, we thought it was because of our injuries." Kenzie shook her head with a sheepish smile. "I had a compound fracture of my left arm, a fracture of my kneecap, gashes from the broken mirror from my shoulders to my hips, a collapsed lung from when the bastard stabbed me, and a ton of bruises. Mal needed twenty stitches in her scalp, had two fractured vertebrae, and was waiting for the swelling in her leg to go down so they could do surgery. Mia was basically being held together by stitches and had half a dozen broken bones. And we all had pretty gnarly concussions."
“We were a mess,” Mia grumbled, fixing Kenzie with an unhappy look for her oversharing.
"We never thought that it could be because of Brooke's injuries and not because they didn't want us out of bed," Mal admitted. "It took a few months to really see all the changes."
"For a long time, we hoped that she would find her feet again. But the Brooke who came home different—quieter, her infectious laughter was gone, and she insisted on pretending that nothing had happened, and she would get so angry if we didn't play along." Mia explained, as her nervous energy got her to her feet, climbing over Mal to pace behind the couch. Reba seemed to pout, but settled for watching her charge.
"Some days, she was all there, lighting up the room with a spark we thought she’d lost forever. Other days, the world seemed too alive or too loud for her. But it was the angry days we dreaded the most." Mal shook her head, as if still perplexed even all these years later.
"Some days she hated us. When things got tough and she couldn't remember little things like song lyrics or the name of a favorite movie or the headaches kept her bed-bound...she blamed us."
Mia paused by the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed at the bright Pittsburgh morning, and couldn't help but glare at the clear blue sky. "Sometimes she would whisper it, other times she'd scream it for all to hear. That we should have let her die."
"She started pulling away from us. Fell in with a new group. We tried to give her space. She was giving her grandparents fits. Booke's mom was still in rehab, learning to walk again after her injuries, and she couldn't help." Kenzie heaved a tired sigh and reached forward for a Tupperware container full of cookies. Stress eating was the least of her worries today.
"Then she just showed up at my door in the middle of the night, out of the blue, sobbing. Her hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped her backpack. I could barely understand what she was saying; she was crying so hard. So she just shoved the pregnancy test at me.”
"Brooke always wanted to be a mom." Mia stopped chewing on her lip to add to the story. "She was obsessed with her dolls when we were little. She made all these plans about how all our kids would be friends just like we were. More siblings than friends."
"Didn't work out that way, obviously. Brooke had Savvy when she was fourteen." Mal sighed.
"Wait, you mean Dr. Nowak?" Robby blurtted out, his eyes wide. Kenzie looked over, mouth full, lips smeared in chocolate, and nodded.
"Is the twins' older sister."
"Fucking hell," he swore.
Jack eyed him with a slight smirk. "So how does it feel to be propositioned by your kid's sister?"
Robby glared, Kenzie choked on her cookie as she laughed, and Mal sighed. Pounding Kenzie on the back, Mia rolled her eyes. "Until we heard about that last night, we didn't think it could be worse than the castration story."
Jack arched a brow. "Uh, beg pardon?"
Mia snorted a small laugh and gave Robby a small smile. "Relax, she was simply trying to find out if you liked kids. She wasn't offering to give you any."
Jack shook his head in mock disbelief. "So, we're just going to ignore the castration thing? Alright."
For the first time since he sat down, Robby laughed. Long, loud, and genuine. He wiped at his teary eyes.
"This is fucking crazy."
"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Kenzie teased and grinned wide and bright at him. Robby blinked as his brain short-circuited at the smile. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Robby's brain still recognizes a pretty woman, and he feels his ears grow hot.
"Alright, so my new resident might very well be the sister to the daughters I didn't know I had. Right, got it—continue."
Kenzie's eyes practically gleamed with amusement, and she opened her mouth, no doubt to say something snarky or ridiculously flirty and completely inappropriate, until Mia flicked her on the ear.
"Hey," the woman cried and turned to glare at Mia. Who held up a finger.
"No," she cut her off. "If this turns out the way we think it will, you'll have plenty of time to sexually harass the handsome doctor."
"Uh," Robby croaked out, eyes wide, and his flush escalated into a full face blush. Jack cackled next to him, but the two bickering women paid them no mind.
"Fine", Kenzie grumbled, finally, but gave Robby a heated look. “Next time, be prepared, Hot Stuff.”
GGGG23 on Chapter 1 Fri 15 Aug 2025 06:39PM UTC
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BrunetteWrites on Chapter 1 Fri 15 Aug 2025 07:06PM UTC
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jmbc13 on Chapter 1 Sat 16 Aug 2025 02:20AM UTC
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Lunaiscrazyyy on Chapter 2 Thu 21 Aug 2025 03:45AM UTC
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GGGG23 on Chapter 2 Thu 21 Aug 2025 07:58AM UTC
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GGGG23 on Chapter 4 Sun 31 Aug 2025 07:29PM UTC
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antithetical_bolter on Chapter 4 Sun 31 Aug 2025 10:52PM UTC
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GGGG23 on Chapter 5 Wed 10 Sep 2025 07:34PM UTC
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