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It was a hot day.
It was a hot day and Jack was working day shift. Why? He had slept. Not overslept he literally just missed his entire shift because he was sleeping. And now he had to go in during the day to make up for it.
The early summer weather had hit Pittsburgh hard this year, it had reached over 100 Fahrenheit a couple of days ago. Today wasn't that bad, but it was still sticky and achy.
Robby had gotten him onto these new "scrub shorts". At first, Jack found them ridiculous. He had never seen anyone wear shorts with scrubs. But it was just that hot today, he thought why not try them.
Years ago, he would've avoided wearing them not because they were incredibly weird looking but because he was scared his prosthetic leg would be on display. Back then, he was terrified of people being terrified of him. It got so bad that he didn't wear shorts for a whole year and only ever took it off when he was all alone at home. Nowadays, he was much less scared. He was used to it, the prosthetic itself and what people might think.
Jack walked into the E.D., after dropping his bag in his locker. Dana grinned at him as he walked over. "Nice shorts, Abbot." She teased, crossing her arms.
Jack put his hands out defeatedly. "It's gonna be super freaking hot today and I don't wanna pass out and become a patient." He said, leaning against the counter.
"Thats the last thing anyone would want."Dana walked around the counter and looked over her shoulder as she walked off. "Speaking about passing out, you got a guy in South 8. Probably got some mild concussion."
Jack nodded and made his way to South 8. He felt slightly vulnerable with his prosthetic on full display, a few patients and newer staff glanced over, but most didn't even notice. That made Jack feel a little better.
The patient in South 8 was probably in his mid-forties, above average height (and weight, dark brown hair, stubble on his chin and he looked more hot and bothered than anyone Jack had seen so far.
"Morning, sir, I'm Dr. Abbot and I'll be your physician for today. Mind lying down for me?" Jack introduced himself as he walked up, standing by the patient's bedside.
The man groaned a bit as he laid down, looking Jack over with a slight scowl.
"So, what happened? Take a fall?" Jack asked as he started his exam.
"Course I took a fucking fall. But that's it! It's not like I bashed my head on the concrete or some shit." The man said, eyeing Jack's prosthetic leg.
Jack chuckled at the man's response. "Well don't worry sir, you have a mild concussion and a few bad scrapes on your leg. I'll patch up the scrapes, give you some meds to help with the concussion and then you'll be on your merry way." Jack replied, getting some bandages and wipes ready.
The man sighed and looked directly at Jack's back. "Can I get a different doctor?"
Jack didn't turn around at first. His jaw tightened, he took a deep breath and turned around.
"I'm a senior attending physician sir, I've been doing this for over twenty years, you're in good hands, I assure you." Jack said, trying to remain as calm as possible.
The man scoffed. "So what you're a fancy doctor? Big boss? You a veteran as well? A medic?" He asked, his tone slightly mocking.
Jack breathed in again, closed his eyes for a moment abd then looked directly at the man. "Not that it concerns you, but I am in fact a veteran. A medic, yes." Jack replied, his hand reaching down and pulling his shorts down so they covered as much of his prosthetic as possible.
"That's what I mean. I don't feel comfortable having a doctor whose someone… someone like you."
Jack's jaw twitched. He had dealt with a great deal of ableism in his life and even though he was well used to it, it still remained one of his biggest triggers.
He felt his vision become slightly blurry, the background noises of the E.D. fading out away. He shook his head but still didn't reply.
"I don't feel comfortable having a doctor patch up my leg when he couldn't even dodge a fucking bullet to save his. It's not that hard, you just move out of the way." The man practically hissed.
Thats what did it. Even the mention of bullets, dodging, fuck even the word 'battlefield' made it all come crumbling down.
A loud, piercing ringing noise shot into Jack's ears as he stormed out of the room. He had to keep blinking over and over, just so his eyes would stop blurring up. Images flashed in his mind, the usual. Bright white, rough ground, sweat, heat, gunshot, blood, blood, blood.
He made it to central, where Dana and Robby were talking. He walked over to them. "Fucking asshole in South 8 needs some bandages. I'm going to the roof." Jack said, before walking off towards the elevator, slamming his hands against his ears in attempt to stop the ringing.
Dana and Robby looked concernedly at one and other before Robby walked off to deal with South 8.
The roof was the calmest place. No one ever came up. And the only sound you could hear was the quiet whistling of the wind or the light rumble made by the cars below.
Jack loved it. No bright white lights, no noise, no fucking ableist assholes, no nothing. He climbed over the railing before slumping against it.
He took a few deep breaths, his eyes closed. Jack felt the ringing, the blurriness, the images fall away slowly. He sat there, just sitting.
Anytime this sort of thing happened, he didn't like to think about it too much. Because he would just get angry and angrier and then he would take it out on people, patients. That wasn't good.
Jack surveyed the familiar skyline, focusing his brain on counting buildings. He stabilised himself, his mind clearing. He leaned his head back, took a few more deep breaths before standing up and climbing over the railing.
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