Chapter Text
Charles sat at his desk, alone in his office.
The rain pelted the window as the gentle storm rumbled outside into the evening. He was head of thoracic surgery – the job he always wanted, at the hospital he always wanted. He had his home again, and his family saw him whenever they liked. He closed his eyes and swallowed. Whenever they liked, he noted to himself.
He never had delusions that his family would be different upon his return from the war. They were all happy to see him, of course. But that had been weeks ago. Now he sat here in his office, the streets below silent in comparison to the noise he’d gotten used to. He couldn’t listen to music to fill the air.
For the first time, Charles felt alone.
He took a breath and opened his top drawer. He pulled out a photograph from the 4077, and stared at it longingly. He noted his sour expression in the photo, where Pierce and Hunnicutt were on either side of him beaming for the camera. His gut twisted. I never realised what I had, he thought to himself.
Charles sighed and ran fingers over the photo reverently.
After a moment he cleared his throat, straightened in his chair, and put the photo away.