Chapter Text
Pittsburgh was colder than he was expecting. Of course, it's currently the dead of winter, and he came prepared for it, but it's still a shock to his system after years spent in the middle east and California.
He and Richard had both craved the warmth and sun without the violence of war after their time in the army. The west coast had seemed like a no-brainer. They'd spent two blissful years there together before things had gone to shit in a single moment.
After that, California didn't seem so warm and sunny.
If anything, Pittsburgh was the opposite of everything California was. On the other coast things seemed different, even if many of them weren't. The seasons were new, specifically the snow, but the culture present was familiar. There was a community alive in both places, regardless of the fact that Jack hadn't integrated himself into Pittsburgh's yet.
They'd had friends in California, ones Jack hadn't kept up with after he left. They weren't the kind of friends to sit by your bedside while you lay helpless in recovery, but it had been useful to have people that knew the best places to shop, swim, get a good cup of coffee, or a stiff drink.
Now Jack felt confined. His new place was less than a ten minute walk to the new job - Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Centre - not that he could even brave the walk right now. The sidewalks were too icy and himself too unsteady on a leg that wasn't even really his.
There hadn't been proper time or energy for true house hunting. He'd opted for the first option that was accessible and near enough to the new job. Something he wouldn't tire of quickly, a place he could see himself growing into, even if not fully anymore. The next street over held the park with refreshing scenery, bird-watching and running trails that led through the woods.
In another time it would have been an asset. Jack had been active once; he wasn't anymore. Lots of who he was now was changing.
It was a Monday and Jack had another two days before he was meant to head in for his first day. So far his place only held a new bed, the kitchen appliances, and a dresser he'd picked out in a thrift shop on his first day here. An IKEA trip was a necessity, but he'd been avoiding driving while it was still snowing. Things had cleared up now, the roads plowed, and yet the thought of going out still made him vaguely nauseous.
Glancing around his living room he huffed a dry laugh at the sad state of things - TV on the ground by the far wall - the empty space staring back at him mockingly. Strengthening his resolve he retreated to his bedroom on his crutches. He leaned them up against the dresser as he threw on a pair of loose-fitting cargo pants and one of Rich's favorite old sweaters, followed by the now familiar routine of putting on his prosthesis.
He heaved himself up off the bed where he'd been sitting and let himself balance for a minute. He was momentarily glad there wasn't a mirror in his bedroom - he didn't need to analyze the little differences in the way he stood now.
He snatched up his phone, wallet and keys from the kitchen counter, his headphones and ball cap from the hook by the door, and the cane he'd be using until it was determined he was less of a fall risk. He didn't exactly need it to be mobile, but his doctors had advised he use it lest he end up breaking a hip on one bad fall.
One of the first things he'd done on his arrival in Pittsburgh was visit the local VA and get himself acquainted with the staff and services. Despite his persistent stubbornness he knew the merits of having a support system and community as a veteran. Besides, he knew they regularly worked with PTMC and wanted to make sure he knew the full scope of what they had to offer the citizens of PA.
Slipping his heavy jacket over his shoulders like armor from the cold, Jack left his house, stuffing everything in his pockets as he went. He pulled himself into his truck - a shiny new thing he'd had to special order fitted with hand controls. The oddity of it all still tripped him up sometimes, but it had quickly become his new normal.
Jack was no stranger to how fast things could change; he'd become an adaptable person early on in life and the instinct had never left him. Some people might've called it hyper-vigilance, but what did they know.
IKEA was moderately busy for a Monday, enough so that Jack could feel his body tensing up involuntarily. He clicked the noise canceling on his headphones on and kept his head down, focusing on the furniture instead of everything else.
Jack had had his prosthesis for months now and as much as he had grown to accept it as part of him, he still felt the itch of people's stares. He knew the pants he was wearing meant he likely passed for somebody with two whole legs, but the cane was like a beacon calling attention to his insecurities. The logical part of his brain could recognize that the mobility aid was necessary to keep him from further injury and pain until he became more secure, but there was an internal shame he couldn't fully fight off.
It marked him as different, and at this point in time all Jack wanted was to vanish off the face of the earth.
A little girl carrying a stuffed shark smiled at him as she trailed behind her distracted mother and he smiled back, refocusing on his mission. Essentials only today, he would continue to fill up his place as time went on - as long as he could comfortably live in it without people fearing for its spartan state.
By the time he made it through the showing rooms he'd picked out multiple pieces to create a cohesive living space. Thankfully it was mostly just furniture he needed, having been able to transport all of his meager belongings from the storage unit he'd hidden them away in when he'd re-enlisted.
He'd chosen a dark wood TV stand and bookshelf set, a comfy gray-green couch and brown armchair to match, and a few other smaller pieces to liven up the space.
As much as he was still military strict about the way he kept his spaces tidy, no self-respecting gay man would still willingly live in a barren-walled box of an apartment for long. He'd added to his cart a wall clock, some floating shelves, hooks for around the house, and one of those wicker storage baskets to hold his blankets (Jack had picked up crochet when he was forced into the more sedentary lifestyle).
The furniture hunting seemed almost easy in comparison to loading everything into a cart to bring back to checkout. Jack huffed in frustration when he realized he needed two hands. He leaned his cane up against one of the stacks of boxes before moving back over to what he needed. He took extra care to lift safely, making sure he could keep his balance as he transferred things over. He had to apologize once and scramble to retrieve his cane and push his cart out of the way when an older gentleman gave him a dirty look.
Upon arriving back at his truck and realizing he'd have to do the same thing all over again he sighed and rested his forehead against the cool metal and took a second to breathe.
The process repeated when he arrived back at the house and Jack thought he might be a second away from bursting into tears from the sheer frustration of it all. He dragged the boxes inside this time, fighting off the shame he felt at not being able to handle basic things like he used to.
Once everything was inside Jack glanced around at the now entirely overwhelming mess of his place and retreated to his bedroom, throwing himself back into his bed and shucking off the prosthetic leg haphazardly.
He spent the next two days in an exhausted haze of anger and grief before picking himself up, putting on his game face, and getting ready for yet another fresh start.