Chapter Text
Jack Abbot wasn’t a lonely man. At least that’s what he told himself, anyways. He had friends–Robby, Dana, his wife, and his sweet service dog, Sun–that he spoke to frequently. Robby when they were up on the roof together after a rough shift, Dana when he wanted to know how everything was with her daughters, and the beautifully colored urns of Sun and his wife when he didn’t feel like listening to his police scanner.
Those urns rested neatly on his mantle, his wife on the right and Sun on the left, paired with their respective pictures and surrounded by some of their belongings. Sun’s food bowl was propped up beside her urn, prevented from sliding forward by her faded collar. Her bed rested below the mantle, home to a nearly folded service dog vest and her two favorite toys: a stuffed bear in an Army uniform and an old, well-chewed tennis ball. His wife’s urn was decorated sparingly; Jack hadn’t been able to bring himself to move most of her things from where they belonged after she’d been killed. Aside from her photograph, the only things that decorated her urn were the necklace he’d bought her for their first anniversary and her wedding band, which sat neatly to the left of her urn in its original box.
The weekends were Jack Abbot’s least favorite things. He tried his damndest to pick-up an extra shift somewhere. Whether it was at PTMC or with the SWAT team, he didn’t care, he just couldn’t stand to be alone at home. No–no, not alone, Jack Abbot was not alone, he was just stuck in the silence with his own thoughts. Yeah, much better. He wasn’t lonely, god damn it. Lonely people don’t have friends they talk to regularly, and they definitely don’t try to block out their thoughts with any type of noise possible. Definitely not.