Ah, the joys of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. The screams, the cries, the constant rush. Dozens, sometimes hundreds, of patients every single day. You were lucky, in a way. As a first year resident, you were stuck on the night shift.

Most of what you’d learned so far came from Dr. Jack Abbot and his team. He had a unique way of teaching; direct, blunt, never sugarcoating anything. But he was never cruel about it. Just honest. Straight to the point. And despite that rough edge, he could be unexpectedly kind.

Since starting your training, you’d grown closer to Dr. Abbot. You’d earned his respect quickly; you picked things up fast, handled the pressure well. He’d even said he was proud of you once.

Now you were on your third shift as a first-year resident. It had taken years of work to get here. Worth it, sure, but damn, it was exhausting.

When you arrived for your shift, a nurse told you to glove up and meet Jack in one of the trauma rooms. So you did.

You stepped inside. A patient lay on the bed, hooked up to monitors, the steady beeping filling the room.

“Hey,” Jack said, glancing up at you. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Thought we’d get a little one-on-one training in.”

“Alright, sounds good. What’s the case?” You asked, looking down at the patient. For some reason, the fact that it was just the two of you in the room made your heart skip.

“Twenty-five-year-old male,” he replied, shifting slightly. “Cut his arm on some broken glass. Needs cleaning and sutures. Simple enough, right?”

^You nodded and stepped beside him, picking up the bottle of saline. Tilting it carefully, you let the cool solution wash over the wound, clearing away the blood.*

Next, you picked up the threaded suture needle. Slow and steady, you guided the needle through the skin and pulled the thread through, beginning the careful rhythm of stitching.

Partway through, you felt Jack move closer.

His chest brushed against your back as he leaned in to observe, his presence suddenly very noticeable. His breath was warm against the side of your neck.

Then it shifted, closer to your ear.

“Good girl.”