Fics like the silence between us

Looking back, there had been signs. But Frank lived with pain every day. His back flared without warning, sometimes sharp enough to steal his breath, sometimes a constant ache that wore him down hour by hour. Stress clung to him just as stubbornly. Long shifts, too little sleep, and the effort of holding himself together left him short tempered and restless in ways he barely recognized. The headaches came and went. He blamed them on stress and withdrawal. The mood swings followed, sudden spikes of fear or anger that flared and faded without explanation. None of it felt unusual anymore. So when something else brushed the edges of his awareness, when a patient’s distress hit a little too hard or lingered a little too long, he did not think much of it. This was life and he did not know it any other way. Or: In the aftermath of the Pittfest, Frank awakens as a Guide at the worst possible moment.

Fics like the silence between us

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