Disclaimer: I don't own Chicago Med or its characters…

Author's Note: I thought I was officially done with writing fan fiction. But that's when it sucks you back in, isn't it? Anyway, Jeff Clarke is one of my favorites from Fire and I honestly wished they used him more in Med. So that's like the perfect recipe for fan fiction inspiration for me; canon not giving me enough of the characters that interest me.

Warning: Contains references to stalking, depression and suicide. From an outside perspective, but still may not be comfortable for some readers.

SAVIOR COMPLEX

Chapter 1

The man in the blood red hoodie followed the young woman out of the bar. Oh, there was a pause before he approached the bartender and settled out his tab. And he strolled in a casual manner, not reaching the exit for maybe a full minute behind her. But he was following her.

Alarms were going off in Jeff Clarke's head and gut.

"Dawson." He flagged his former coworker over and told her he was done for the night. The pretty Latina woman studied him with her big brown eyes and frowned.

"You okay?" she asked, taking the cash he offered her and pausing to catch his eyes. Gabriela Dawson was one of those women with a terrifyingly perceptive gaze. "Something wrong, Clarke?"

Maybe he was just being paranoid, anxious because he hadn't used those particular US Marine skills recently and that aggressive part of him wanted to stretch its muscles since he kept it locked down deep all the time now. Then again those sorts of instincts never got rusty.

"Nah. Just ready to hit the sack," he said, giving her a smile that probably didn't reach his eyes. But she seemed to accept his explanation.

"Okay. I'll be back with your change."

"Keep it," he said, gathering up his jacket and giving her a wink. "Tip for the best bartender in town."

Gabriela Dawson had a genuinely pretty smile. But like his own facade on this night, it didn't seem to reach her worried eyes. He didn't stay long enough for her to try to question him again.

The notion that he was perhaps being silly blew away with the cold night air as he stepped out of Molly's bar. It was a city. But a city in the dead of winter at night might as well be the barren arctic tundra. The warmth and merriment in the establishment at his back seemed alien as his instincts took over and sent him to a more primal part of his being.

Which way had Blood Red Hoodie gone? Which way would the young woman have gone?

He glanced down the streets kept empty by the frigid temperatures. And then he closed his eyes and listened. No sounds.

Maybe the eerie silence should've been reassuring. But it wasn't. He turned right and headed towards the nearest bus stop. From what he knew of the young woman, that's where she'd be going to catch a ride home. And his gut was certain that's where Blood Red Hoodie was headed. Because the man had a creepy vibe about him. Not chatting or getting merry with friends, or even drinking alone, absorbing and enjoying the atmosphere. No, he'd been staring at the girl.

Had Jeff been staring, too, to have noticed that the man in the blood red hoodie was staring?

No. He hadn't been noticing her. He'd been noticing the threat. His mother had always said he had the soul of a herding dog, overly vigilant and protective. A quiet type, but highly observant and a little bit territorial.

The bus stop was a light in the distance. A small glass and metal shelter. The young woman bundled in a long, wool jacket. She seemed to be alone and Jeff's shoulders sagged in relief, but the tension didn't leave his insides. And then he realized it was because there was a figure making its way down the street, edging the far side of the sidewalk, keeping to the shadows. The hooded sweatshirt still looked blood red in the wan light, but not the bright arterial crimson, more black like what poured from a punctured liver.

Jeff began to walk faster. Not running, because there still was a self-conscious part of him remaining, wondering if he was being ridiculously paranoid, whether… The man stepped into the light, startling the young woman but she didn't back away or run. She seemed fine... Jeff slowed his pace again to pass by innocuously since everything seemed-

The wind had been at his back but it shifted and carried bits of conversation to him.

"..Come with me..."

"...If you want to see me... appointment… …hospital..."

"...No... Just... Need..."

Blood Red Hoodie, now arterial scarlet in the fluorescent light of the bus shelter, grabbed the young woman's wrist. She tried to yank her hand away and failed. Her eyes were wide with fear, but the only shouts were coming from her attacker. Jeff couldn't discern the words over the pounding of the blood in his ears as he sprinted into the shelter.

And it was all instinct, grabbing the shorter man from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck and getting him into a firm chokehold, lifting him off his feet a couple inches just to enforce the idea of who was in control. Taken by surprise, Blood Red Hoodie immediately released the young woman's wrist and began clawing at the arm compressing his windpipe.

The young woman staggered back a couple steps, looking even more afraid than before. And then she composed herself.

"Put him down, Jeff Clarke," she said. Her tone was a little too confident, as if she'd practiced it. And she recognized him, knew his name. He hadn't expected it, honestly.

"This guy followed you, grabbed you, Doctor Sarah Reese," he said. She seemed surprised that he knew her name as well. They were really only colleagues in passing, two of an abundance of hospital staff at Chicago Med. "Did he threaten you?"

"Not really, no," she said, a bit of fierceness flashing in her eyes. "Put him down. He's harmless."

Jeff frowned but complied, turning a little to place himself between the young psychiatry resident and the creepy guy before he released him from the chokehold.

"Who is this guy, Sarah?" Blood Red Hoodie asked, rubbing at his neck and gasping, his breath forming white puffs in the cold air. "You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend."

Confused, Jeff looked to the younger woman. Was this some sort of jilted lover? Not that it gave the man any excuse to grab her or frighten her. She cocked her head, looked at Jeff like she'd never really seen him before and then took his arm and stepped in close to his side, returning her attention to the creepy guy.

"I do, Derek," she said/ (And she did, that kid from pathology, what was his name?) She leaned into Jeff a little further. Was he supposed to be playing along? He covered the slender gloved hand resting on his bicep with his own and tried to look affectionate as she continued to dissuade this creep (whoever he was) from -what?- pining for her? "Not that it should make any difference. You're a patient of mine."

"It's more than that, Sarah. You look at me and I know you really understand-"

"That's my job. To help people, to understand when no one else does." Damn, the girl was good. Jeff was a man of few words, always trying to make them count. He'd found that most people who talked a lot didn't tend to focus on the quality of what they said. But this girl, um, young woman, doctor, she seemed to conjure a plethora of words, every one of importance. "But there are other people who can do that for you, too. And given the situation, I think it-"

"No!" This Derek creep surged forward like if he could only get a hold of the young woman, she'd be his.

Jeff gave him a tap in the center of his chest with the side of his fist, making him stumble backward and catch himself on the glass side of the bus shelter.

"You heard the doctor," he said, stepping forward and ignoring the angry tug on his arm. "I'm sure she'll be happy to give you a referral. But-" He took another step, using his height advantage to loom a little. "You're never to follow her, or talk to her outside of a professional setting, or touch her again. Alright, Derek?"

The guy nodded, fear in his eyes, and Jeff felt a little guilty. If the man had been seeing Doctor Reese in a professional capacity, then he was likely not mentally sound. Probably emotionally vulnerable, possibly a victim of some horror or tragedy. Maybe he shouldn't be using intimidation tactics on him. But then he remembered the flash of fear in the young doctor's eyes, the fact that things had gotten physical when she hadn't complied with whatever demands Derek had made.

"Go," he said, not bothering to raise his voice. He never had to. Apparently there was something terrifying in his soft-spoken manner. That had never been a reassuring thought. But sometimes it worked to his benefit. Like now, as the man in the blood red hoodie edged along the glass wall and then bolted through the opening, disappearing into the night.

He turned back to the young woman to, well, comfort her if necessary, to assure her she was safe. But Sarah Reese was glaring at him, obviously trying to keep her composure.

"Do you know the damage you've just done?" Her eyes admonished even if her tone was almost even.

Jeff shook his head in disbelief. "I just stopped a creepy guy from assaulting a young woman."

"Doctor." She corrected him and he wondered if it was meant as a barb, that although a decade or more younger than him, she outranked him in the hospital setting. But they weren't in the hospital. And when it came to real world experience, he frankly had more than the average person. And far more than her.

"I was his doctor. I can't divulge his issues, but this... this likely is causing him a major setback." She began to pace. And Jeff realized she had never meant to insult him. She was thinking of her Hippocratic Oath and how she had just done harm, mental harm, judging by her now anxious behavior. "He'll never trust me again. How am I going to get him in to see someone else. How-"

Jeff gently placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned, looking sheepish for being caught in such an insecure moment.

"I think you should be thinking about calling the cops," he said. "I saw this Derek guy in the bar. He was watching you. He followed you."

"And you followed him," she said, shrugging off his hand that looked so large on her slender shoulder. "Things aren't always how they appear to be."

"Then how are they, Doctor Reese?" She winced.

"Call me Sarah," she said, shifting uncomfortably as studied her face. Was it because he was older than her that she didn't like being addressed by her title? Or was it because they were outside of the hospital? Or because of what had just happened?

"Then you'd better call me Jeff," he said. "But I'm not letting you change the subject so easily. You need to report this to the police."

She shook her head vehemently.

"I appreciate that you were trying to look out for me, Jeff," she said, meeting his eyes with a fierce look in her brown ones. "But I have the situation under control. And I'd really rather keep this incident from giving a confused man a police record."

He couldn't force her to do anything she didn't want to do. That's precisely what he'd stepped in to prevent. Still, he frowned his disapproval and sighed.

"Fine," he said. "At least let me make sure you get home alright."

"I'll be fine," she said. "The bus should be coming any minute."

"Please, Sarah. I'll pay for a cab."

Her brow furrowed and she studied him again, like she had before, as if seeing him for the first time.

"You have a Savior Complex, don't you, Jeff Clarke?"

"I don't know what you mean, Doctor Reese," he said, knowing she was beginning to psycho-analyze him (good luck) and that it was just the hook he needed. He offered her his arm. "But will you let me see you home safely? So I can sleep instead of worrying about you all night?"

She twined her arm around his, her hand resting on his bicep again, and began to ask him questions as he led her back to Molly's bar to order and wait for a cab.

"Have you found that you're attracted to women with emotional issues? Do you like to feel needed in a relationship? Not like normal, but as if your partner couldn't function without you? Do-"

He chuckled in response to most of her questions. But answered enough to keep her distracted. Her questions were actually a little intriguing. But not as interesting as the young doctor with intelligent brown eyes and a professional intensity and just an edge of the nerdy girl next door.

And maybe he did suffer from a compulsion to help others, to save them. It would explain a lot, actually, including why he wouldn't rest easy until he saw Sarah Reese safely pass through her front door.

A/N: Didn't want to spoil it ahead of time, but yes, I also like Sarah Reese. And if you know my writing, one of my favorite things to do is write stories with characters who basically have no relationship whatsoever in canon. As this part stands, just a friendly sort of encounter. But there's definitely more plot in my head, and potentially with a romantic angle.