Chapter Text
The skyline sits before him. Morning light blooms above, greeted by the sirens and honks of cars trying to get through traffic.
If he looks down far enough, he can almost make out the people walking miles away, unaware of everything that has happened. His thoughts blur nearly 100 miles an hour, looping constantly, brain working like a broken record.
He looks down at his hands and he sees them twitch. Then he's back in the emergency room, and his hands are the same.
Never enough.
Jack drags in a ragged breath, before releasing it with a puff of chilled air in the morning chill. He stares at his hands. Keeps staring until the tips of his fingers have turned red with cold and he can feel the pin prick of the biting winter air. Only then does he tuck his hands into his pockets and allow himself to gaze back at the sky.
The sun barely touches some of the buildings, its bright pink and purple rays grazing the tips of the tallest ones as it rises. The whole sky is growing lighter, as if the heavens themselves were trying to uplift him. Jack scoffs, it's all in vain anyways. One step at a time right? He wants to laugh again.
His eyes well with tears as his mind, ever the traitor, wanders back into the ED.
Not here. Not yet.
Jack bites his lip to keep them from quivering and tells himself it's only the cold. He pushes himself further, even as his body screams for warmth, he forces it to stay in the frigid air. He forces his muscles to freeze as he submits them to his ministrations, remaining still even as the wind whips at his face.
A hand lays on his shoulder. It doesn't surprise him, he heard Robby clamber up the elevator from floors away.
“Get some sleep brother,” Robby urges him. “Go home man.”
Jack keeps his gaze trained on the rising sun. Robby nudges him again. Jack knows from experience that Robby will continue urging Jack home until he actually listens. He feels the well of emotions inside of his chest start to overflow so he pinches his eyes shut and counts to ten.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Breathe.
Not yet.
Inhaling deeply, he lets his eyes meet Robby from the other side of the railing. Every bad morning, Robby is there, talking him down from the ledge. Literally. Every. Single. Time.
Sometimes he wishes that he didn’t.
Jack pulls his stethoscope from the barrier and onto his own neck. Its weight hangs like a reminder of his burden, of the duties he gives to others and the things he must carry. Jack pastes an easy smile onto his face before clapping Robby on the back. “Thanks brother.”
Robby just grins back and follows him back out the door.
Jack listens to Robby. Almost. He goes home. Kinda. He stops by the grocery store first, filling his cart up with food he knows will go uneaten.
It’s nice to pretend though.
Then he goes to the gym. Jack works himself to the ground, pushing with everything he can give until he has nothing left. It is only then, when his body is screaming and his mind finally silent that he lets his body collapse onto his bed. Even then, Jack lets the Police scanner run, just in case his brain decides to start working again.
It’s 5pm when he wakes again, as he blinks the sleep from his eyes Jack lets himself enjoy his next day off. For about three minutes. Until his brain begins to scream and the walls close in like a prison.
The day hits him like a train. Every mistake is cruelly played back like a never-ending movie in the back of his brain. He can see it flashing behind his eyes, the possibilities that one of them was fatal. That finally his brain would be right and that today was the day his good outweighed his bad.
He tallies it in his brain. The good and the bad. If his mistakes were balanced or not.
Today they weren't. If he were to place all his deeds onto a scale, it would have listed to ones side and read: useless.
Useless Jack Abbot.
The pit in his stomach grows hungry for more. It twists and snarls as his brain feeds it more and more. He wants to slap his hand down and scream, but all that would do is confuse his neighbors, it wouldn't stop the persistent hounding of his own thoughts turning against him.
Jack hisses in another breath, squeezing his eyes shut against the wave of blocked off emotions that don’t want to come when called. He needs to cry now so he won’t later.
It wouldn’t do to have any staff see him cry. Very few have. He prided himself on being emotionally strong. Maybe strong isn't quite the word.
One measly tear slips from his eye and he sighs in frustration. It’ll be fine, he has the rest of the day ahead of him. As he sits, he feels the stirring in his belly, the need to disappear.
To go.
To run.
To flee.
His fingers clench around his mug of coffee. It had been so long since the last time he felt like this. He worked hard with his therapist, but they could only do so much.
The need crawls up his arms, coating his entire body with doubt and guilt and it's like dousing himself in flames.
Jack gasps again, letting air filter through his throat as he tries to stop his brain from conjuring the worst possible things.
Then as if in a daze he feels himself walking out of his apartment. His running shoes are on. Why? Then his legs are pushing, pumping as he races through the streets of Pittsburg, desperately trying to feel alive. He dashes through every route his mind can think of until he is exhausted. Half ready to drop dead onto the floor.
It didn’t work.
Jack freezes as the temptation crawls back through his battered body.
It didn’t work.
Jack tries to stop the train of thought before it is too late.
Who would grieve if I died? Surely not a lot. How many would be willing to stand by my graveside? How many would mourn? None.
He’s so tired. And it never stops. Ever.
Please, he thinks.
Give me a reprieve. Let me be done.
A car speeds past him on the side walk, spraying him with water from a puddle a few feet away. And once again, Jack feels his emotions crash over him all at once. Right on the sidewalk.
His body doesn’t care when or where, it does what it pleases and leaves him with nothing left to do but sit with it.
The guilt comes first. Over a young girl who was too far gone to save.
The sorrow hits him next. Everything is a stark reminder that he is nothing but a burden to the people he loves.
Another car peels past.
Jack pants as the pain hits him.
Deep in his chest, the all consuming ever familiar pain of suffering. Prolonged and terminal, Jack feels his suffering more than he would a bullet to the chest.
Another car passes ignorant as he chokes on his feelings as if they were vines crawling up from his chest into his throat. They certainly feel like it.
Jack watches the cars pass. Each one going at a different pace. His feet unconsciously shuffle closer to the edge of the sidewalk.
No Robby to pull him back now. Jack breathes in deep. He’s not scared. He’s been ready since he turned 18.
He inches closer.
Then Jack closes his eyes and steps into the street.
At first silence overwhelms him, it’s as if he were floating in an empty sea of nothing. The asphalt beneath his feet gives way, letting him fall into the endless void.
Then a horn blares, light floods behind his closed eyes, bright and yellow and blinding. Soon the impact hits him. It’s immediate and painful and everything he wants and more. Jack feels something from his body leave and break, as if this final act had freed his very soul.
Finding the freedom in oblivion.