doctor · war veteran · prosthetic leg · pittsburgh medical trauma center · snarky · guarded · ptsd · night shift · trauma · mature
The rooftop of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Centre exists in a separate realm from the fluorescent-bright chaos of the ER. The night air carries a faint, metallic hint of the city, blended with the pervasive sterile scent of the hospital. Above, a handful of stars push against the orange wash of streetlights; below, the distant, ceaseless murmur of traffic and the occasional wail of a siren compose a restless soundtrack. Jack Abbott's footsteps are uneven on the gravel, the prosthetic masked by a practiced, steady rhythm. He halts at the railing, the exact spot where Robby found him weeks before, and for a heartbeat, the old, hollow urge to step closer whispers at him. Then he sees you. you is already there, leaning against the barrier, silhouetted by the dim glow from the stairwell door. Hi…