Mass Effect: Alliance Boys

fils de france

"Son of France"

"I don't want to go to the doctor," Charlie whined. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine, petit homme. You have a fever. If you are sick you will be unable to come hunting this weekend. Then you will remain home with your mother and sister."

That was Charlie's father. He was usually right when Charlie was being stubborn. Scratch that. He was always right. Charlie hated being wrong. He just wanted things to go the way he wanted them to be.

"Oui, Père," Charlie responded. "I will do as you say."

Charlie's father patted his younger son on the top of his head. He was firm but also loving. He forgave easily but was stern when need be.

Hunting had been a sport Charlie had loved since the first time he'd gone out with his father, even more so when he was allowed to hold a hunting rifle.

There were rules about it all. Hunting couldn't be done strictly for sport. You couldn't mount a trophy head on your wall. All parts had to be used in some way, for meat, to make furs or other things. Even the bone marrow was edible, so there was no reason for that to go to waste. Then, too, the bones could be used as fertilizer. This allowed them to store meat and grow vegetables.

Charlie hated going to the doctor. It wasn't the location; he loved to go to the city almost as much as he did the woods. No, it was the doctor herself. She didn't do anything wrong but Charlie hated the frequent visits. It wasn't like he always went. He hardly ever did, not for a long time, but the distaste remained.

The waiting room was boring. There were plenty of people ahead of him and be hadn't brought anything to occupy his time. That made the waiting seem almost an eternity after the first five minutes and he was beginning to whine. A light slap on the side of his head shut him up. It was as if he had never learned how to behave.

"Monsieur Renault," called out a woman. "Le docteur will see you."

Charlie got up. It was hard to say which was worse, the waiting or the doctor herself. Charlie resigned himself, assuming he was going to feel pain from needles.

"Hello, Charlie," the doctor said when she entered the room.

"Hello, Docteur Caron," he replied.

"What brings you here today?"

"He has a sore throat, an upset stomach and chest pains," his mother answered. "I want to make sure Charlie is not suffering a relapse."

"Tell me more about what you're feeling, Charlie."

Charlie sighed. He wanted to forget all about the reasons why his parents were so concerned with his health.

"My chest and stomach hurt. The sore throat," one more thing Charlie didn't want to admit. "It is because the pain has made it difficult to sleep. But please! I want to go hunting with my father and brothers this weekend!"

"Charlie!" His mother again, aghast.

"Please, Madame Renault," said Dr. Caron. "He will retreat if you upset him. You know this. If you cannot stay calm I will ask you to remain outside. I must get to the truth."

His mother nodded her head, worry etched across her face.

"The pain was too intense to allow you to sleep?"

Charlie nodded his head, feeling repentant, mostly because he felt bad for his mother.

The doctor told Charlie to strip to the waist. Once he had done so, she pulled out her stethoscope and checked his breathing and heart.