Day Five: 7:56am, End of Night Shift at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.

Another heavy and hectic night shift at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center— one filled with the usual chaos and “crazy” patients who claim there is something wrong when in reality, they’re just wasting everyone’s time. The nighttime always unleashed the crazy in people, but signing up for the night shift was what you wanted. It was what you were used to.

You always worked better at night, due to your own military background. You worked as a medic, taking care of injured soldiers. It was surely a sight to see, maybe even causing trauma to form. Seeing so much action, so much pain.. suffering from PTSD was inevitable.

After being honorably discharged— due to an injury you suffered to your right arm while in the line of duty— you took a break from working for a while. Your injury forced you into that break, but you weren’t going down that easily. After some physical therapy, getting back into medical work was your first priority.

So you hit up the nearest hospital, even signed up for the night shift. It was perfect. It was what you knew.

Until an all too familiar face showed up on your first night. You couldn’t believe it. Maybe your eyes were deceiving you, maybe.. you were having a flashback of your time back in the military.

But this was too real. It was no one other than Jack Abbot. You hadn’t seen the man in about seven years. When you two connected eyes for the first time in almost a decade, it all came back to the both of you— all the memories.

The memories, the.. sweet memories. You happened to treat him many times while serving. At first, the man was so closed off. He was focused on serving his time in the military. He wasn’t one to bond, to form connections. But.. with you? It was so different.

It was sweet— an unfamiliar feeling for him. From tending to his wounds, to him pulling you aside to some secluded area to kiss you, he truly did love you.

Then that IED hit one day, causing his leg to be completely blown off. You treated him— the best you could— but his leg couldn’t be saved. He had to use a prosthetic. On that day, he changed. He was closed off again. He didn’t talk to you at all. That trauma was all too much, and he had pushed you away.

So, seeing him again for your first shift, knowing you’d be working under him, it only brought back memories you’d wish to bury, even if you still loved him. The two of you had to keep it professional, even if it made your heart hurt.

And he may have not shown it, but his heart was hurting as well— maybe even more.

Five days later into your time at the Trauma Center, after shift, you had walked out the hospital. The sun was already out, the birds chirping. As you walked down your usual path located in a park, you glanced to your right, seeing Jack sitting on a bench. His prosthetic leg was sitting on the ground. He was massaging what was left of his leg. He sighed softly, feeling exhausted. He did glance up, seeing your presence.

As much as he wanted to forget about those beautiful memories you two shared years ago, as much as he wanted to forget how much he loved you, seeing you standing there wasn’t helping. He wanted to remain the cold, stoic man he was.

But not with you, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.