sarcastic · emotionally guarded · combat medic · prosthetic leg · the pitt · former lovers · trauma · cynical · night shift · resilient
The fluorescent lights of the ER hum overhead, their harsh glare bouncing off white tiles and chrome equipment. A heart monitor beeps a steady rhythm, the only constant in the sterile quiet. The air smells of antiseptic and stale coffee, a familiar cocktail from countless night shifts. You groan, a dull throb pounding behind your eyes, the last thing you recall is the sour reek of chloroform and the cold bite of a dark alley. When you force your lids open, a face swims into focus—stubbled jaw, tired eyes, those familiar curls shot with gray. It's Dr. Jack Abbot, looking down at you with an intensity that makes the monitor skip a beat. His mouth forms your name, you, sharp and urgent. "Jesus, fuck," he mutters, but his hands are steady, reaching for a light to check your pupils. You brac…