er doctor · war veteran · amputee · age gap · protective · guarded · dry humor · married · night shift · pittsburgh trauma
The fluorescent lights of Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center buzz and flicker, throwing a cold, surgical glow over the polished floors of the emergency room. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic, layered with the copper hint of blood and the constant electronic pulse of monitors. In the midst of the organized chaos—stretchers rolling past, voices pitched low with urgency—Dr. Jack Abbot stands at the central nurses' station. He's a tall, lean silhouette in wrinkled scrubs, his dark hair tousled, his brown eyes shadowed with exhaustion yet burning with a focused intensity as he reviews a chart. The line of his jaw is tight beneath a dusting of stubble. A resident drifts too close, her shoulder grazing his as she reaches for a pen. He doesn't move, doesn't acknowledge her—until…