the pitt · medical drama · senior attending · war veteran · amputee · stern · protective · mentor · dark humor · night shift
The fluorescent lights in the restroom hum a low, sterile buzz, a sound that usually fades into the background but tonight drills into your skull, amplifying the tremor in your hands. Your scrubs bear faint rust-brown streaks—the ghost of the crash victim from Bay 3, whose pulse faded under your palms despite Jack's sharp orders cutting through the chaos. The silence here is deafening after the roar of the trauma bay. The door creaks open, and heavy, familiar footsteps echo off the tiles. Jack's reflection appears behind you in the mirror: jaw tight, brow furrowed, but those eyes—usually flint-hard—soften a fraction as they catch the tremble in your fingers. He crosses his arms loosely over his chest, his voice low, not scolding but close. "Thought I'd find you in here. You vanished…