Chapter Text
There was nothing more they could do. Jack called it at 4:17 a.m. He ripped off the gown and gloves and threw everything into the bin. He walked over to the hub and muttered to Lena, "I'm getting some air." Lena nodded, "Alright, boss." She waited until he had disappeared before she called out across the ED.
"Code monastery, folks! You know the drill."
She then picked up the phone and called the surgery department.
“Code monastery,” Lena said into the phone.
She heard a muttered 'Fuck' at the other end. "I'll go get her." A few moments later, the phone was picked up again.
"What happened?" Emery Walsh asked.
"A vet came in. Had taken a gun to his head. Jack went to get some air."
“The roof?"
“Most likely."
"I'll check on him. Thanks, Lena."
Nazely approached the hub. "Ehm, Lena? What's a code monastery?"
Lena didn't look up from the computer. "We call it when Abbot needs to take a breather because a case got to him or when he's in pain," she explained.
"Why would he be in pain?" Nazely asked.
Lena looked at her over the rims of her reading glasses. "You don't know? He's an amputee. Right side, below the knee."
"Oh," Nazely responded. Then, after a moment, "Oh!"
"What?" Lena asked.
"I finally got a joke he made earlier. Dr. Ellis asked him whether he needed a hand and he said 'No, but I could use a foot.'"
Lena rolled her eyes. "Yeah, he's got a couple of these on heavy rotation."
In the elevator, Jack felt like he was suffocating. He leaned against the wall and concentrated on his breathing to fight the oncoming panic attack. It worked. As if on autopilot, he got his phone out to text Allison, like he had done dozens of times before in similar situations, but then remembered. He started composing a message to Emery, but then deleted it.
Emery found Jack in his usual spot, luckily safely behind the metal railing. He was leaning against it; his weight resting entirely on his left leg.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," Jack said in a raspy voice. He didn't turn around.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Not really."
Emery stepped closer to him and hugged him from behind. She held him tightly and they stood like this for a while in silence. Finally, Jack spoke.
"It was a vet. Forty-two. Shot himself in the head. He was still breathing when he arrived, but I couldn't save him." He sighed. "I've lost count of how many vets--," he stopped.
"I know," Emery said. She placed a kiss on the nape of his neck. “Your hair smells nice,” she whispered into his ear.
“Yeah, it’s your shampoo.”
“You’ve been using my ridiculously expensive curl shampoo?”
“You left it in my shower the other night. And what can I say, it does make nice curls.” Jack lifted Emery’s left hand to his mouth and kissed it. He then turned her wrist to check the time on her watch. “4:42, still more than two hours to go,” he sighed.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
"You know what I mean, Abbot."
"Five. Ish."
As curt as the answer was, Emery was still glad that he had given her one. While he would often jokingly allude to his disability, talking about how it affected him on a daily basis was a different thing entirely. But people who worked closely with him could usually tell. When the jokes and quips stopped and Jack became quiet and curt, he was in discomfort. When he snapped and yelled, which Emery had only witnessed once a couple of years ago, he was in agony. That time, Jack had been working a day shift and had apparently been in so much pain due to an ill-fitting new socket that he had completely lost it when an MS3 made a mistake during a trauma. Dana had been forced to step in and had called Jack's wife Allison to come pick him up and Robby to cover the rest of Jack's shift.
"Have you sat down at all tonight?" Emery asked.
"Barely."
"Jackson."
"Don't call me that. That's not even my name," Jack complained.
"I still can't get over the fact that your parents really named you just Jack."
"They couldn't afford a longer name," Jack responded dryly.
Emery chuckled. "Not even a middle name?"
"Oh, I do have a middle name. And you won't guess what it is."
"Matthew."
"No."
"Christopher."
"No."
"Alexander."
"No. Trust me, you're not going to guess it."
"Okay, Jack mysterious middle name Abbot, promise that you'll sit down for a bit when you get downstairs."
"I will." He paused. "Are you coming over tonight?"
"Depends. Will there be chili?"
"There might be."
"I'll bring the wine," Emery said. "Come on, let's get back to work."
When Jack got back to the ED, he checked in with Lena. "Did I miss anything?"
"Nope. Ellis and Henderson have got it." She paused. "Listen, just so you know, I told Nazely that you're an amputee."
Jack nodded. He didn't mind Nazely knowing. He usually informed new interns about it on their first day, just to get it out of the way. Because his transtibial amputation didn't affect his stance or gait that much, many people actually seemed to forget about it again.
Jack looked over to the computer station where Nazely was charting. "She say anything?"
"Only that she finally got one of your dad jokes," Lena replied.
Jack grinned. "You gotta admit, they are funny."
Lena rolled her eyes. "The first time, maybe, but not when you've heard each one a hundred times."
"Yeah, but Nazely hasn't yet heard all of them," Jack said with a mischievous grin.
"That poor woman has no idea what awaits her," Lena sighed.
"Hey, while we're on the subject, I'm gonna sit down in the staff lounge for a bit."
"Excellent idea."
In the staff lounge, Jack sat down on the sofa in the corner and pulled off his prosthetic. He had only been sitting there for five minutes, when the door opened and Nazely's popped her head in. "Dr. Abbot? Trauma coming in. Single MVA, five minutes out." Jack sighed. "One cannot catch a break in this place." "I guess not", Nazely responded. Then, with a nod towards his leg, she asked, "Are you okay?" Jack looked at her and nodded before he grabbed his prosthesis and slid his residual limb into it. He stood and the pin locked into place. "Yeah. It usually gets somewhat uncomfortable at this point in the shift." He paused and smiled. "But I'll live." Nazely hesitated a bit, then said, "I, uh, I know a little bit about chronic pain. Endometriosis." Jack raised his brows. "Well, then you do know more than just 'a little bit about chronic pain.' My wife had it, too. It's not fun. I take it you know how to handle it?"
Nazely nodded. "Of course."
"Good. But don't hesitate to come to me when anything changes, okay? Come on, let's see what kind of trauma we gotta deal with now."
"Hooah!"
Jack grinned. "That's the spirit."