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obsidianimagines · 1 month ago

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Nearly Lost You

Jack ends up in the hospital after his brush with death.

Jack Mercer x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of death/injury/blood, lots of cursing, starts angsty and turns fluffy, Bobby calls Jack reader's girlfriend, Jack lives AU :)

Notes: This is connected to the previous imagine with him. The title comes from the Screaming Trees song (Jack would totally approve 🤘)

Jack had been shot by Sweet's men. The one thing you were scared of in the Mercers' search for revenge actually happened, and it was nothing short of a nightmare.

The last few hours had gone by in a blur, ever since the moment Bobby realized that Jack ran outside and into danger. You'd ridden in the ambulance with him as the paramedics worked on him, and then been written off when it arrived at the hospital and they realized you weren't family. So you sat there in the waiting room with nothing but your thoughts.

You could still hear the gunshots and Jack's voice as he yelled for Bobby. As he yelled for you. But the worst part was when he stopped making any noise at all. By the time the shooters were all dead, Jack's mouth was full of blood as more escaped his wounds and stained the snow. The coppery smell still lingered on you, shirt and sleeves smeared with red from trying to help him until the ambulance arrived.

It was unlikely that he would survive, but you weren't leaving that hospital until you knew for sure. No matter how many people looked at you funny as you sat in the corner and sobbed.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you blinked to try and read the name through your tears and the dried blood on the front screen...Jack?

A wave of nausea washed over you when you realized that it was probably someone from the hospital calling you—the emergency contact in his phone—to deliver bad news. You shakily flipped it open and answered with a soft "...Hello?"

"How is he?"

Bobby. Jack must have left his phone in the house somewhere.

"He made it to the hospital. They took him in the back, but they won't tell me anything since I'm not family."

"Jesus Christ. You're his girlfriend! You were in the fuckin' ambulance with him!"

"I told them that. Apparently, it doesn't matter."

"Go up to the desk and give 'em the phone."

You looked over at the desk, where you'd already tried to argue your case. Eventually, you had to stop or risk being removed from the premises. The nurses surely wouldn't be happy to see you approaching, but you did what Bobby told you.

As you thought, one of the nurses began to speak up once you reached the desk. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we've been over this–"

"It's his brother," you interrupted, holding the phone out to him. "He wants to talk to you."

The man took the phone, almost scowling at you as he put it to his ear. "Sir, I–"

Bobby's yells could be heard from the other side of the phone, and in any other context, you would probably start laughing. At that moment, you were actually glad for the oldest Mercer's strong personality.

The nurse tried and failed to get a word in edgewise amongst Bobby's verbal assault. By the end, his hand was shaking as he gave the phone back to you and began clicking and typing on his computer. "It looks like he's still in surgery. I'll have another nurse take you back to the OR waiting room."

"Thank you." You put the phone back up to your ear. "Did you hear that, Bobby? He's still in surgery."

"Call me back when he gets out, alright?"

"I will."

Bobby hung up first, and you closed your phone before shoving it back into your pocket.

A few minutes later, a nurse escorted you back to a different waiting room. One far less crowded. You slumped down in one of the chairs and leaned your head back against the wall, praying to God that Jack would make it through the night.

Four days later, you sat in the chair next to Jack's hospital bed, his hand held in yours. You let out a sigh as you brushed your thumb across his fingers, the absence of his usual rings feeling pretty strange. He still hadn't woken up, but the doctor assured you that you had nothing to worry about on that front.

Jack was stable. He was alive.

Of course, outside of the hospital, Jack was considered dead, which meant his brothers couldn't visit yet. They were even planning a fake funeral and burial just to make it more convincing. Because until they killed Sweet, he could easily send someone to finish the job.

You hadn't left the hospital since the ambulance brought you both there. Camille was kind enough to bring your things so you could use the shower and change out of your bloodied clothes. A nurse gave you a blanket and a couple of pillows so you could sleep on the tiny couch in the corner, and all of your 'meals' came from the vending machine at the end of the hall. You stayed there with Jack because the last thing you wanted was for him to wake up alone in the hospital after what happened to him.

Giving his hand a little kiss, you rested your head on the bed and closed your heavy eyes. Sleep didn't come easy in the hospital, even though being there was so emotionally exhausting.

When you felt his fingers move, you thought you imagined it. Until you heard a familiar, yet much raspier, voice say your name.

You sat up and looked at your boyfriend, who was finally looking right back at you after so many days. "Jack?" All you wanted to do at that moment was scoop him up into a big hug, but he was still badly hurt, so you simply squeezed his hand and gave him a smile, your eyes beginning to well up with tears again.

"What the hell happened?" He croaked, squinting at the bright lights as he slowly came back to reality.

"Let me get you some water, baby." You let go of him so you could go over to the sink and fill up a paper cup. "You were shot. You don't remember?"

He took the cup when you offered it and had a big gulp, helping make his mouth and throat less unbearably dry. "I...I, um..."

Your words and the dull ache in his legs and chest had it coming back to him. Just in bits and pieces, but it was enough. Getting that snowball to the face, bleeding out and screaming in the snow. And the gunshots, the sound of bullets hitting the brick and glass of the Mercer home, where his family had still been inside.

His eyes went wide, and he reached out to grab your hand. "Were you hurt? Were my brothers-?"

"I'm okay, Jack. So are your brothers." You sat on the edge of the bed and gently cupped his cheek with your other hand. "You were the only one who got hurt, unless you count the guys who attacked us. Your brothers took care of them."

"Good." Jack leaned his face into your hand slightly, sniffling as tears stung at his eyes. He could remember you sobbing over him as he started to black out, pleading with him not to go. He never wanted to do that to you again. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" You asked, frowning slightly.

"I don't know. For leaving the house and getting myself shot. For getting you involved in this shit." If you had gotten hurt or worse while Jack was too injured to protect you, he never would've forgiven himself. He thought having you at the house would be the safest thing, but he should've just asked you to go back home entirely. Even though he knew you wouldn't have dreamed of leaving him there in Detroit, he wanted to kick himself anyway for being so fucking selfish.

"Hey, none of this is your fault." He closed his eyes as you leaned in and pressed a small kiss to his lips. "I love you, Jack, and I don't regret being here at all. I'm sticking with you no matter how crazy things get. Got it?"

Jack nodded and buried his face in your neck, wrapping his arms around you—at least as much as he could with an IV in and the injury near his shoulder. "I love you, too."

Careful not to put any weight on him, you stayed there for a while, you and Jack simply holding one another and thanking the universe that the other was still breathing.

"The fuck were you doing running outside like that?!" Bobby yelled loud enough to be heard in the hall.

Jack's brothers finally came to the hospital to visit him, and the very first thing Bobby did was smack him in the back of the head. Granted, it wasn't as hard as he would usually do it, but it still stung a bit as Jack rubbed the spot. "Jesus, what was that for?!"

"Were you trying to get yourself killed?" Jerry added, but at a more reasonable level.

"That asshole called Mom a whore. I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah, we know you weren't." But once he heard what was said, Angel wondered if he wouldn't have tried to chase that motherfucker too.

Jack knew his brothers weren't happy about him getting hurt, but what he didn't realize was that they were each more upset with themselves than with him. If they hadn't been arguing, they would've noticed when he disappeared. They wouldn't have almost lost him like they lost their mother. Bobby had it the worst because to him, being the oldest meant being responsible for all of his little brothers, and especially his baby brother, who didn't have as much experience in this kind of life as the rest of them.

Instead of ever admitting how terrified he'd been at the idea of losing a brother, he continued on as he sat in your vacant chair. "Jackie, you ever do some shit like that again, I'll beat your ass."

"Alright, Bobby. I think he gets it." Jerry looked back to Jack again, gesturing towards the suitcase in the corner. "Where's your girl?"

Jack cracked a smile. "She went to get us some lunch. The food they serve here is shit."

"That girl must really fuckin' love you," Bobby said as he put his boots up on the edge of the bed. "She's been here all week."

"You found yourself a good one, Jackiepoo." Angel mussed his hair, and Jack pushed his arm away in annoyance. "Don't fuck it up."

"Wasn't planning on it."

Bobby scoffed. "What do you know about good women, Angel?"

"Don't even start, Bobby!"

After a little more bickering, Jack's brothers took the time to tell him everything that had happened since the shooting. How Green had helped hide Jack's survival before he was shot by Fowler—who Angel had easily tricked into getting himself killed—and how they had used the money meant for Sweet to get Jerry's old union friends on their side. Now, Victor Sweet's body wouldn't be found for months, and he would never hurt anyone else again.

It was over half an hour before you opened the door and walked into the room holding a takeout bag, which you placed on the rolling table next to the bed. "Hey, guys. If I'd known you all were coming, I would've ordered more food."

"Don't worry about it," Jerry said, "We've gotta go anyway. I'm picking the girls up from school today."

"That's too bad." Looking between all four of them, you asked what you'd spent so many days hoping for. "Since you're visiting, I assume that means there's good news?"

"Yeah." Bobby sat up from the chair with a pained hiss, patting Jack on his good shoulder. "You don't have to worry about Sweet tryin' to kill your girlfriend anymore."

Jack glared at his oldest brother, and you rolled your eyes as you pulled containers from the paper bag.

"Let's go, man." Angel nodded towards the door. "Camille's gonna chew our asses out if we make Jerry late."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm comin'."

Alone again, you moved the table in front of Jack and took your food with you as you flopped down in the now empty chair. "So, is it really over? I mean, your brothers are going to be the number one suspects."

Jack picked up a plastic fork in his left hand and awkwardly scooped up some of his noodles. "The police interrogated them this morning. They don't have anything on them. No witnesses and no evidence."

"That's good." Even with the joy of Jack being alive and well, Sweet's presence had still kept you on edge. There was a fear that he might get the better of the Mercer brothers and eventually kill Jack once he discovered his survival. But the bastard was finally gone. Evelyn Mercer was avenged, and her boys would walk away clean. "Now you can leave in a few days like the doctor said."

Jack had never liked hospitals much, but who did? The only thing that made it bearable was the fact that you were there with him. Still, he was going to light up a celebratory cigarette the moment they rolled him out the front door.

"Can't wait."

The chilly December air bit at Jack's face as he blew out a cloud of smoke. His brothers were working on fixing up the house as a group of neighborhood kids played hockey in the street. Everything was calm—normal, even—for the first time in weeks.

You sat on the sidewalk with Daniela and Amelia, all three of you scribbling on the surface with different colors of chalk. The moment he noticed their box of chalk and mentioned to them that you were an artist, they practically begged you to draw with them. So he'd parked his wheelchair a few feet away as you bonded with his little nieces.

Amelia nudged your arm and pointed to her drawing. "Do you like my flowers?"

"I love them!"

"What about mine?" Daniela asked.

"They're all beautiful," you said, delighted as both of them grinned. "Flowers are just what we need on a cold, snowy day like this. Don't you think?"

The girls quickly declared that they were going to draw even more of them, but before they could, Sofi and Camille called out from the front door.

"Okay, okay. No more work for today."

"That's right. Come in the house, wash your hands. You too, girls!"

You grabbed the little plastic bucket and helped the girls put away all of the pieces of chalk. "Maybe we can draw more later." They ran off towards their parents with the bucket in hand, and you brushed yourself off as you got to your feet.

Jack grinned at you and carefully bent over the arm of the chair to put his cigarette out in a pile of snow, holding onto the butt to throw away inside. He could almost hear his mom reminding him not to litter, and certainly not in her yard.

You gripped the handles of his wheelchair and leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss when he turned his head towards you. Jack happily kissed you back and ignored the annoyed look from Bobby, who was still over by the saw. Giving him one extra peck at the end, you straightened up and pushed him down the sidewalk towards the path to the front door and the ramp that Jerry had built.

Jack hated that his still healing shoulder kept him from wheeling himself around. He hated that you had to help him change into his clothes, and even help him shower or get out of the chair just to take a piss. But the first time he expressed that, you reminded him that he would do the same thing for you in a heartbeat if your roles were reversed, and he knew it was absolutely true.

Angel was right. He'd found a good woman. In spite of his injuries and the rough road ahead, he was happy to be alive so he could keep doing his best to be the kind of man you deserved.

#jack mercer #jack mercer x reader #jack mercer imagine #four brothers #garrett hedlund #my fics***#i'm not 100% happy with it but it's still cute

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