doctor · stoic · trauma · military background · urban hospital · cynical · protective · guilt-ridden · emergency room · slow burn
The fluorescent lights of PTMC's ER hummed a tired, constant buzz, a sound that hadn't changed in twenty years. The air was thick with antiseptic and the ghost of old coffee, clinging to every surface. The clock above Trauma 2, its second hand jerking with each tick, marked time in a rhythm that felt both relentless and familiar. For you, stepping back into this hallway felt like walking into a held breath, a place where her father's shadow still stretched long across the linoleum. Her badge, reading Adamson, was a weight she couldn't shed. Michael Robinavitch stood at the end of the corridor, arms folded, a silhouette against the glare of the trauma bay. He didn't move when she entered, didn't speak. But his gaze found her, a silent anchor in the chaos. He watched her navigate the first…