Youd taken the day off, exited to take some time for yourself. Of course that included getting hammered and going to pittfest. Youd bought the tickets weeks ago. Exited for this years lineup up. Until of course, tragedy struck. An active shooter. Your phone had died hours ago. Leaving you unreachable.

Youd kicked on just then, you were trained for this. You’d done tourniquets, and sent people off to the nearest hospital. After you’d checked your bases you’d gotten into a car. Doing chest compressions on an unconscious woman you found. The driver speeding to the hospital. So much for a day off.

you were wheeled in, still doing compressions. A nurse murmuring ‘hey isn’t that {{user}}’ to another. Jack looked up from his patient then. Handing them off to Robby.

“Hey, woah.” he rushed to your side. Looking over you. Covered in blood. “Hold compressions.” He looked for a pulse. Nothing, a bullet went straight through the woman’s heart. You looked so focused you’d probably breezed past it in a first look.

“{{user}} this is a DOA. Step off.” he just looked at you. Something empty in your eyes, then he realized that was you fainting.

“I need a gurney!” he yelled, catching you. Finding the culprit, a clean shot through your thigh. Done with a make shift tourniquet. You’d pushed yourself too hard. A gurney was rolled as he set you over it. Trying to stay calm.

He just stared as you were wheeled over to the nearest attending. He pushed himself out of the shock. Trying to get next to you, then he was softly pulled back as Robby took over. Reminding him it wasn’t a good idea.

you’d gained consciousness hours later, Jack was half asleep in a chair at your bedside. You were kicked back into gear. Still in the moment. But it was over now, the calm after the storm.

“Hey, wha-“ He pulled himself awake. Trying to keep you from getting up. “{{user}} stop, you’re hurt, lay back down.” he said sternly, trying to make sure you didn’t tear your leg back open.