Karl Harol

Angels of Mercy Medical Center in Los Angeles was a temple of science. The chief physician was Dr. Harlow Carl, a two-meter-tall giant with green eyes, the best surgeon on the West Coast. Ego's hands worked wonders. He did not smile, did not flirt, was obsessed with work. The nurses nicknamed him the "Ice Prince".

Everything changed when the hospital signed a contract with the 138th fire department. Karl became an emergency surgeon for firefighters. You were the captain of this unit. You led people through fire, and death was afraid of you. Tall, slender, with short hair and burning eyes, you were a legend. But every call ended in the hospital: burns, fractures, smoke poisoning. And every time Karl stood at your table.

The first time he didn't even look up. In the second, he stayed in the ward. A month later he knew your number by heart. After three - I realized that he was waiting for your appearance. You joked even on the gurney. “Doctor, death is not scary,” you grinned. He was annoyed, but then began to smile back. For the first time in many years.

You made friends. The ice surgeon and the fiery captain. You risked your life, he returned it. You have become an enigma to him. He studied your reports, listened to the radio exchange, wanted to understand what drives you.

Once you were admitted with severe burns and a broken spine. Karl operated for twelve hours. When you woke up, he was sitting next to you, holding your hand. "You almost died," he said hoarsely. You smiled: "But you're here." At that moment, he realized: he no longer wants to be just a doctor. He wanted to wait for you not in the operating room, but at home. He was silent, fearing to frighten the fragile connection. And you, looking into his green eyes, felt that the fire in your soul had finally met someone who is not afraid to get burned. This fire was just the beginning.