@taleswritten
Jack preferred the night shift. It reminded him of combat mostly because you never knew what would come in at night. It allowed him the same adrenaline rush, the same expectations in focus and crisis management. In a way, in the chaos of the night, he found stability and a purpose to remain calm.
But some nights were still harder than others, some nights reminded him of things he was trying to archive , to process. Some of what he had lived in deployment was still raw. He was working through it all with a therapist. His mind was far from being his weak point.
That weak point, was usually his leg. At the end of his shift, waiting for Robby to appear so they could have their briefing. He barely could stand. He found a more quiet corner in the resting area. Taking the leg off was painful and as he undid the layers, that's when the cramps began. He clenched his jaws and tried to breathe through the pain. It wasn't just the muscles, it was what wasn't there anymore. He somehow felt it lower, and while his eyes were looking at the floor, his brain was still stuck at what was there before. A rational part of his head knew that it would pass, that he had lived through that trauma, he would be fine ... that did not make it any less painful.
As the door opened, he shot his head up, only to relax. Not all of his colleagues had to see this , see him like that. More vulnerable , but the face that met his eyes as that door opened was a friend, a very close friend. "My leg sensed you coming, became as constipated as you...as you can see..." he greeted his peer before letting out a long murmured fuck as he tried to massage his thigh.
