Ok. I heard all of your comments on my story Scars. I am very sorry many of you didn't like the way everyone found out about his abuse. I am. But, well, I think the story played out the way I wanted it to.

First, many told me Ms. Goodwin seemed OoC. I didn't want to write her that way, but her inflection is really a big part of her character so she doesn't sound like a total bitch in the show. I couldn't seem to capture it. However, someone told me it was good when they imagined her facial expressions.

The general idea was that the abuse needed to be explained to all because it wasn't on his resume, but abuse can cause ptsd and other circumstances that his colleagues should be aware of in case he needs help. For instance, if someone had a certain disorder that could affect work, it would be best if others(workplace/they are doctors) knew about it in case of an emergency situation. This is not a law(I don't think so), but I wrote it as one.

So all y'all who said it doesn't make sense, those who emailed me just to tell me that, and those who specifically told me this part of my story was terrible, (you know who you are): fuck off. For those who expressed their opinions considerately and not rudely(mostly everyone. Thanks!): thank you for expressing your opinion. I took the advice. I might rewrite my story Scars again in the future, but it is not my priority.

This is my new story, which is again about Connor Rhodes. This was a request with my take on it. Different universe than Scars(totally unrelated, that never happened), but it's possible to read them together. This would come first. Please send me story requests. I hope you like and review! I also did not mean to come off as ungrateful. I love all of the suggestions and reviews! Rant over!

Warning: Graphic description of self harm. Slight mentions of abuse, ptsd. Graphic description of depression and past depression. Graphic description of suicide attempts. Cursing.

Ever since he was young, he was never confident of himself. He didn't even count his father's abuse as part of it. It was his mother's depression. Depression was hereditary, he knew that. But Claire didn't have depression. Not that she would tell him if she did.

But being trapped in an elevator with your colleague can make you realize how much you hate yourself.

He found his fingers skimming his wrists, feeling the scarring that very subtley covered them. Unless he was dying a blood loss and his skin became super pale, or someone looked really really close, they wouldn't see the scars. And yes, people have done both before.

He didn't do it anymore. Not lately anyway. It would be much to obvious since he didn't wear a long sleeved shirt. He quit. That was that.

But, like a junkie addicted to his drug, Connor really wanted to drag a knife across his wrists. He wanted to feel the blood drip off his fingers. He wanted to feel it run off his arms, wanted it to stain his t-shirt. He wanted it hurt like hell.

It was his fault. He let the boy die, the little boy who came in with a broken leg, who he didn't run any more tests on, and two weeks later he came in, had a seizure, and died.

He let the older man die. He was around 80 and had a heart attack. He should have recovered, but thanks to Connor's shitty surgery, he died. On the table.

He let- no, he killed a little girl and her brother. He took that one the hardest. The boy was about 14. He tried to run away from his abusive father. He was almost beaten to death. His sister was 5. His mother had committed suicide years ago. The boy was in a coma until his father, who hadn't been charged for under yet, pulled a gun and shot both him and his sister.

That was why they were stuck in an elevator.

Will was on the same floor as him, and they happened to walk into the same elevator. Or, to be precise, they were shoved in an elevator by SWAT, who apparently wanted to keep them safe by shoving them not an meal box that could plummet to their deaths any time. Honestly, he saw the father kill his children. He wouldn't of minded a couple a gunshots to take away the pain.

But it was the situation of the boy that was the killer. An abused boy whose mother committed suicide years before tries to commit suicide to get away from his father ends up in a coma while his little sister watches him sleep? It was he mirror image of Connor Rhodes.

But this kid was dead. That's why Connor wanted to run the blades over his wrists, or something. He just squeezed his hand into a fist, where his nails cut into his skin. It wasn't enough, but it was something.

All these thoughts and actions rushed into his head in a matter of seconds. In the next second, Connor was pushing Will to the floor, as bullets screamed through the elevator doors.

Then the doors closed and the bullets stopped.

Will dusted himself off. He was going to yell at Connor for shoving him to the ground. He could protect himself.

And then he looked up. Connor was leaning against the wall of the elevator, hunched over. Bleeding.

Blood stained the whole front of his torso and abs. The blood was already accumulating on the floor.

But Connor was just standing there like everything was great. Then Will realized that his head would have taken the bullets now embedded in Connor's chest.

"Shit."

"Yeah..."

Will shook himself out of his momentary panic. He went into doctor mode.

"Lie of the floor, I need to know were the wound entered," he commands. Connor slowly sits down of the floor of the elevator.

"I already know where they entered, Halstead. I need to pull them out, that's all," Connor almost smirks then remembers why they are here.

"They? As in, more than one!" Will exclaims, frantic.

"Relax. They are going to get us out soon. But I have to pull the bullets out now," Connor states, completely relaxed.

"Pull them out? With your fingers? No, no, no! You are going to bleed out in front of me and if you don't you will certainly get an infection!" He almost screamed at Connor, who looked like there was not a care in the world.

"I'll be fine. You need to calm down."

When this did nothing to calm Will's frantic, panicked breathing and wide eyes, Connor realized Will was about to have a panic attack. He tapped Will on the face, as his panicked eyes met Connor's.

"You have to calm down. Will. Calm down. Everything is fine," Connor slowly stated with as much confidence as he could muster. Halstesd's breathing started slowing.

But Connor, well he was a different situation. No matter how much he liked the pain, or it wasn't that bad, blood loss was inevitable. He felt himself starting to slip into shock. He needed to get the bullets out now.

He closed his eyes, and thought about the bullets. He felt them in his body, which as always, felt gross, but helpful. He new there was one in his chest, which was located a few inches down from his collarbone. That one probably nicked his lung, as breathing started to feel a bit harder.

He knew there was a bullet in his abdomen. It had entered just a couple inches away from his center. That one was pouring blood everywhere, and so was the other one, letting him know he was going to bleed out soon.

Will was still slumped against the wall.

"I'm going to help." Will said softly.

"You need to take off your shirt," Will said matter-o-factly. Connor ripped of his shirt, exposing his very toned, blood covered torso.

Connor pulled out a pocket knife and glanced at Will.

"Can you help me?" Rhodes asked. It wasn't a sarcastic comment, he was wondering if Will could actually help him without freaking out.

"Yeah," Will said sheepishly, pulling of his hoodie. He pressed firmly on the second bullet wound, while Connor focused on the one by his collarbone.

Connor took a deep breath and took both screwdriver attachments on his Swiss Army knife and held them like tongs. He reached into the bullet wound, pushing the screwdrivers in until he felt it, grabbed it, and pulled it out of his chest.

The blood fell faster, pouring out of the wounds. Connor had to keep a smile from his face. He deserved this. This is what he wanted and he didn't even have to use his knife.

But the blood was starting to flow faster than it should. He felt cold already, the shock already settling into his bones like a wet blanket.

He braced himself as he pulled out the next bullet, while Halstead kept pressure on the first wound. He knew he didn't have much blood to lose, but it didn't help that his lungs were filling with it.

He coughed, a painful and harsh sound, that soon had blood splatttering the elevator floor. The blood was rushing faster now. Will was right, he would bleed out here. But he wasn't going to die.

He pulled himself to a leaning position. Will had steady pressure on the wounds, but that wasn't what he was observing. The quiet of the elevator was broken by the harsh, bloody sounds of coughing.

"You know...depression is hereditary," Will said quietly and quickly, hardly making eye contact with Connor.

Rhodes looked at Will, who had obviously noticed his scars by now. His skin had become very pale from the blood loss, and it was kind of obvious. The scars that lined his wrists caused Will to glance at Connor quickly.

"I don't want your pity," he said coldly. Halstead knew him, or at least his icy side. He knew not to push.

But apparently, today, Will forgot.

"You obviously were depressed. Hell, maybe you still are depressed. That's not a weakness," Will said slowly. Connor realized that he was being treated like a patient.

"Stop. Don't diagnose me. Don't talk down to me. I don't need your pity," he said, unkindly. He did not need help. He blamed himself because he was to blame. That was all.

"I'm just saying, that you don't have to hide your old habits!"

"I'm just saying I don't want to hear it!"

"So! You obviously need -" Will's outraged cry was cut short as suddenly the elevator creaked.

Connor hauled himself to his feet. Will stood up too, leaning on the wall, still glaring at Rhodes.

And then the elevator plummeted.

They fell and fell, and in a matter of seconds, they car slammed to its lowest point.

Both doctors fell to the floor at the extremely sudden jerk.

Will hit his head, hard, on the floor. Connor was jerked down quickly and more forcefully than Will. He slammed into the ground, his ribs taking the brute force of the impact.

And then, darkness.