A Stand Worth Taking

Foolish

The cell door slammed shut with a clang, and the soldier strutted off, whistling a tune.

"I'd do it all over again," Hopkins shouted through the bars. "You're a damn bastard!"

Sanford sighed, and with his back against the wall, slid down to the dusty floor. Hopkins absently wiped at his nose, smearing the blood leaking down his face. That conflict had been stupid and unnecessary. The Captain could be such an idiot at times.

"Well, well. Look at us, the rebels." Turner sat hunched in the corner, his face bruised and bloody. Apparently, he, like Hopkins, was unable to restrain his fists.

"That is not a title I wish to bear," Sanford said. "I'm a doctor, for God's sake."

"You must've done something wrong to land you in here."

"I tried to get aid for Foster. It didn't go well, as evidenced. The Captain intervened."

"Oh ho, Captain. What did you do?"

Hopkins chuckled, bearing a sly grin. "I beat him senseless," he said. "Nobody disrespects the Doctor."

"And yet because of your tomfoolery," Sanford said, "we're here. Had you let me handle the situation we wouldn't be in this cell, nor would we have lost Foster."

"Lost Foster?" Turner's voice lacked his usual gall. "As in..."

"No, he's not dead. He's just not in my care anymore." Sanford shook his head, a scowl on his face. "Always assuming the worst."

"Hey, it was a fair assumption," Turner replied. "Who's got him now?"

Sanford paused, exchanging a glance with Hopkins. "Fox."

Turner slammed his fist into the wall. "Son of a bitch! You let that bastard take off with Foster?"

"What else was I to do?" Sanford snapped. "Who else would willingly help him?"

"I'm sure there's plenty of others that could help who aren't backstabbing, lying traitors." Turner pointed accusingly at Hopkins. "You know, if you had believed me the first time, then maybe none of this would have happened."

"Oh, don't blame me for this," Hopkins said.

"But I told you. I told you!"

"I know, I know." Hopkins ran a hand through his hair. "And I should have realized it sooner, but I just didn't think..." His voice trailed off.

Sanford grimaced, knowing he was in the same boat as Hopkins. Deep down, Sanford had suspected Fox had been the traitor. There had been so many times where he seemed off, brief moments of internal turmoil or oddly spoken words. It was so clear, and yet Fox had still managed to fool everyone. Mostly everyone, anyways. And maybe that was because Sanford didn't want to believe Fox was capable of committing such an atrocity. Because nobody wanted to believe that Fox, loyal and passionate and kind, would ever turn his back on them.

Oh, how they were wrong.

"What's done is done," Sanford said. "Fox made his decision, and we made ours. Perhaps in the future, we won't be so dull."

【O】

"Try and get some rest," the medic said. "I know that might be difficult in the scenario you're in..." His voice trailed off as he glanced at the tent entrance. Then the medic shook his head and snapped back to attention. "But nobody would dare attack an injured man, enemy or not. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other things to attend to." And he shuffled out of the tent without another word.

Foster rolled onto his side and shielded his eyes with his hand, yet he ensured he had a clear view of the entrance. Dammit, how did he end up here, helpless on a cot, surrounded by red-coated rats? Typically, one should still respect their enemy despite raising arms against them, but Foster saw their sneers and heard their jeers. How could he respect a people who flaunted their victory? Who would have shown no mercy to the surrendered? Whose arrogance runs unparalleled? He just couldn't.