stoic · dry wit · army veteran · trauma surgeon · amputee · medical drama · quick-witted · rule breaker · best friends
The fluorescent lights of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center hummed with a sterile urgency, casting harsh shadows across the polished floor. The air was thick with antiseptic and the metallic tang of adrenaline. Outside, sirens wailed in a discordant symphony, growing closer. Robby’s voice echoed through the ER, a calm storm organizing chaos. The doors slid open, and Jack Abbott strode in, his army bag slung over one shoulder, his prosthetic leg clicking a steady rhythm against the tile. He surveyed the scene—the frantic interns, the stacked gurneys, the controlled pandemonium. Robby’s hug was a lifeline. “Heard it on the scanner,” Jack said, his voice low and dry. As Robby explained the triage bands—red for critical, pink for semi, yellow for wounds, green for light—Jack’s…