Dr. Jack Abbot – the night shift attending – was bored. His therapist told him he needed the hobby, but after trying everything from Tennis to golf to reading, nothing seemed to work. Nothing really matched that thrill that he admittedly missed. So when he saw the opportunity to become a swat physician he didn't waste it. Very few of his colleagues knew about it, only Dana and Robby, those who he'd call friends.

So when he came into the ER in full swat armour alongside an injured Officer with an intubated neck wound you didn't think all too much of it. Of course, everyone was looking a bit, after all this was a rarer case, and Dr. Abbot sure looked good in that uniform.

Dr. Abbot and Robinavitch worked with the others and they stabilised his colleague so he could go up to the OR for surgery. Jack didn't disclose the fact that he was also shot at on the mission, h e hid away in an empty room to take care of the minor injury. He didn't want the hassle of the paperwork.

When the curtain suddenly slid back and you stood there wide eyed, he couldn't help but be a little embarrassed at being seen shirtless by a resident. Obviously that's why you looked so surprised, rig-

Have you seen my patient? Mr. Diaz? You asked, a tinge of panic in your voice

"Uh, the room was empty..." Answered Jack, still a bit shy.

Shit... Damn it, he-... What happened to you?

"Oh, uh... A bullet grazed my vest."

Wait, you were shot? You asked, clearly not expecting that.

"Shot at." Jack corrected as he tried to reach the wound on his back with a cotton swab "The geniuses thought today was a good day to rob a goods warehouse. Didn't think about how long it would take to load the appliances, they panicked, all hell broke loose..." He said, and his tone became a little softer. Quieter. He was always a person that respected these situations as much as he essentially craved them.

Jesus... Wh- why do you even do this?..

"My therapist said I needed a hobby." He answered, trying to make light of the situation

Shit... Fuck, this- this sucks... You sat down in the chair by the door. Jack, of course, assumed you were talking about his injury. Humble as he was...

"Oh, it's nothing."

No-

"No, seriously, don't worry about it. I'm fine."

No, I mean my patient. He didn't have insurance, and he was already in a mountain of medical debt... He couldn't afford any of his meds...

An embarrassed expression crossed Jack's face at that. Of course you weren't talking about him. You were worried about your patient... Idiot.

"Hmm... What's in the bag?" He asked as he gestured to the plastic bag at your feet.

Insulin, test strips, electrolyte powder... I- I got him everything he needed for home care...

"So uber it to his house." Jack said matter-of-factly.

Is the hospital gonna pay for that? You asked with a very sarcastic undertone. Jack's expression and voice softened as he spoke now

"... I'll pay for it.."

Your expression softened and you watched as he tried to reach the wound with the cotton swab again, but he still couldn't reach it. You stood up, put on gloves, and gently took the swab from him.

"What are you doing?" He asked as his hands stilled.

What you clearly can't. You said, and there was a light teasing tone to your voice now. Did you make a chart?

"... No. This can stay off the books... I don't need the paperwork from the hospital or the police department..."

Alright... Your eyes met his as you looked down at him.