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You are the medic of Task Force I4I, a brutal, sophisticated trained task force. Meaning no funny business at all. However, there was you, the cheery, fun-loving girl whom everyone was entranced by.Not only this, but you were great with bedside manner. Most of the soldiers were turned by the effects of war, but it didn't matter. You were a very attractive lady and the soldiers loved it. They would always come to your office, or you go to their rooms, acting either tough and burly, or as if they were on their deathbeds. There were a few key patients who loved flirting with you, like Johnny or Valeria. But there was one soldier who had your full attention. Simon 'Ghost' Riley. He was the quiet type, but he would make key efforts to stop by your office for the small things. Whether it was a scratch or a bullet wound, he would always come by. One previous time in particular, he came with a pretty serious gun wound. The bullet had grazed his arm, but the wound was still pretty bad.
When he came in, he walked in as if nothing was wrong. You looked up from your desk and saw the blood that had pooled around the wound and stood up immediately. He sat down on one of the beds, with a low grunt. You gather the materials you needed, and stood on his left side. Whenever he came into your office, you would try to start a conversation with him, but depending on the severity of the wound, he sometimes would respond with a glare or just not respond at all.
"So, how'd you get this one, hm?"
"Sniper grazed my arm, while I was reloading. Nothing that serious," he responded dryly, his accent piercing your ears.
"Well, I have to clean in with alcohol, so it might sting a bit." You poured alcohol on the cotton ball and softly cleaned the wound. He didn't flinch or blink at the sting, his eyes following your curves and then back up to your face. You felt his gaze and your heart pounded. Your eyes stared at the wound, but then you found yourself tracing his triceps and biceps with your eyes. He noticed, but didn't make a sound. You finished cleaning the wound and placed gauze on it. You wrapped it up and lightly patted his arm and gave him a friendly smile. You looked at his eyes through the balaclava, seeing if his eyes squinted as a smile but no luck. He stood up, and placed his hands on his vest.
"So, 'm not gonna die today?"
You chuckled softly. "No, you'll be fine. As long as you keep it wrapped up for a few weeks."
He began to walk of of your office, the sound of his boots against the floor. You hoped that he would turn back and look at you, but to no avail, it didn't happen. Of all the patients you had coming in and out of your office, Ghost was the most quiet and mysterious. And this is what kept you interested. Most others would run their mouths off trying to impress you, talking about how many enemies they took down, or how fast their mission was, but him? He was a closed book. You wanted to know everything about him.
~
A few weeks later, it was influenza season. Many soldiers were in and out of your office, coughing and hacking, and some whose rooms you had to visit. One of these days, Price walks into your office.
"Hello, Captain Price. Don't tell me you've got the flu as well?" You teased him.
He chuckled deeply, "No, miss. Not me. Unfortunately though, it did get to our Lieutenant. And he's in pretty rough shape. If you could please, would you come take a look at 'im?"
You ears perked hearing about Ghost, you haven't seen him in a while and wanted to see him again. Unfortunately the conditions weren't promising. You gathered your bag and followed Price to Ghost's room.
"Since he's been sick, he's been more of a grump then usual. If he gives you any grief, you have my permission to knock 'im around a bit. Or just call me and I'll handle it." Price chuckles as he taps the code into the door. You smile. "Don't worry about me, I'll knock some sense into him if I have to."
Price opens the door and your eyes shift to Ghost in the bed. He has the blanket strewn across his body and his toned torso laid in the bed unclothed. He has his arm over eyes and he is covered in a thin film of sweat. It's nothing you haven't already seen, but either way it makes your heart pound when you do.
"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, your favorite lady is here."
Ghost grumbles as he lays in the bed, and you walk to his side. Price closes the door halfway behind him as he leaves the room. You sit on a stool and look at his torso for a moment before you clear your throat and speak up.
"Ghost?"
He grumbles again, muffled by the mask and by his arm over his face.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like shit."
You take your gaze off of him for a moment to find the thermometer in your bag.
"You look like it."
A small chuckle escapes his body as you find your thermometer.
"I have to take your temperature. The balaclava, can I-"
He cuts you off quickly and firmly.
"Not off."
You take a small breath. You need not ask any questions. He wants to keep it on for his privacy and his comfort. You take your hand and gently lift the balaclava under his nose. His chest rises and falls a little faster and you take notice. The first thing you notice about his lips is a long scar on the left side of his mouth. You take a small breath and realize why he keeps the balaclava on in the first place. You take the thermometer and place it between his lips and under his tongue. You then take out your stethoscope and place it in your ears.
"I have to check your heart as well, it'll be cold for a moment."
You take the base of the stethoscope, trying to tune out your own fast heart beat, and listen for his heart beat. The two of you are inches apart. Suddenly, his arm shifts ever so slightly from his eyes. And you can feel it. His eyes are on you, studying every feature, from the curve of your lips to the curve of your legs. You feel your cheeks getting hot as he stares. He says nothing, and just admires you. The thermometer beeps, and he hands it to you, as you lean back, the stethoscope earpieces come out of your ears. You look at the thermometer and see the high number.
"So doctor, am I going to live, or should I start writing out my will?"
You chuckle and take a deep breath.
"You'll live, unfortunately."
Your gaze meets his, eyes intense, his irises deep and almost never-ending it seems.
"Hm, shame."
"You may need some painkillers, I recommend that you drink lots of water and sleep. Actual sleeping, Lieutenant. The boys will miss you, but you'll be out of commission for a couple of days.
"Yes ma'am."
His words send shivers down your spine, as his accent sounded stronger as a result of him being sick.
"Do you need anything else while I'm here?" "No, I'm all good. But remind me to get sick more often."
