Surgical Steel Heart [Doctor x Reader]

Restraint

There is no way you can leave now, not after hearing Dr. Carter say your name. Given the fact that he just destroyed his office in a fit of rage, hearing him say your name is anything but a good sign. You creep forward, peeking through the crack in the door in hopes of catching a glimpse of what's going on inside.

Hunched over his desk is Dr. Carter, a small slip of paper in his hand. His office os an absolute mess. Various pieces of furniture are tossed about with scattered files surrounding them. One of his monitors displays static; sparks cluster around a metal rod the size of a baseball bat that had been wedged into its screen. The electrical hum of the broken monitor is the only sound remaining after his tantrum.

You squint, trying to make out what's on the paper in his hands. You can discern that it's a picture, just barely making out the outline of a human portrait.

The doctor pins the picture onto a corkboard with many other photos. The images are accompanied by newspaper clippings and printed articles. After seeing the original photo among other pictures, you recognize it. You recognize all of them. These are pictures of you.

With your heart pounding, you finally leave. There is no way he won't hear you with how heavy you're breathing if you keep watching.

You don't want to know what was going through his head at that moment. All you know is that Dr. Carter, famous for his aptitude for torture, is mad; and you have something to do with it. That alone is enough to make your skin crawl.

The image of his patients whom you've worked on before flood back to your mind: skin and muscle peeled back–clamped to the table. tendons pulled to the brink of snapping, electrodes jutting out of organs and tissues, the way the room echoed with their howls of pain, and–of course–the sound of the doctor's laughter as he fried his victims to the brink of death.

You can't think of any reason for him to be mad at you, but that doesn't change the fact that he is. What's stopping him from making you his next patient? Is there anything? You shiver.

You get no sleep that night. You have no close friends due to the time commitment of being a surgeon, and you haven't contacted your family since the last holiday. It would be too easy for the CIA to make you disappear for upsetting their top investigator. How can you sleep knowing this?

* * *

Daylight creeps through your window, signaling the end of your sleepless night. Going back to work is the last thing you want to do, but staying home will be suspicious. There is no chance of mercy if Dr. Carter and Dr. Stamper figured out that you were eavesdropping on them. You just have to rely on your mediocre acting skills and pretend that nothing is wrong. That, and hope. Hope for anything at all to go your way.

You try to dress a bit nicer today. A subtle message that you're a good employee, one worth keeping alive. You make sure to drink something caffeinated before leaving to hide the fact that you were up all night. Feeling somewhat satisfied with your appearance, you take a deep breath and leave for work.

Unfortunately for you, it doesn't take long for Dr. Carter to spot you upon your arrival. His eyes make direct contact with yours and he begins approaching. You try to hurry off without much direction other than away from the doctor–but to no avail. His long strides and the way people naturally move out of his way when he walks make it easy for him to catch you.

"Good morning." He greets you. He manages to cut you off so that you stand face-to-face with him. His smile always looks sadistic, so it's difficult to discern how he is really feeling.

"Morning." While a friendlier reply may have been better, you can't trust your voice not to shake due to how fast your heart is beating. Dr. Carter tilts his head to the side as he looks at you, his face unmoving from his usual smile.

"My, don't you look nice today?" You shudder at his words. This strained cordial interaction is infinitely scarier than the anger you saw in him yesterday. It only worsens as his smile grows wider as he watches you shudder.

"Thank you, doctor." While you have to look away periodically, you try to maintain eye contact, as disturbing as it is. He already knows that he's getting to you, but it doesn't hurt to show at least some composure.

"Do me a favor and clear your schedule for today. I'll be needing your undivided attention. All day." His tone is unreadable. You force a smile. This is it, you are done for. He probably has every minute planned out to be as excruciatingly painful as possible, just for you. There is no escape either. All you can do is nod. "Wonderful. I'll be expecting you in my office as soon as you've canceled everything else."

"Your office?" You blurt out. Last you remember no one is allowed in his office, plus it's a wreck.

"Do you not know where it is?"

"No, no. I know where it is. I just figured you needed me in an operation room. You know, for surgery?" This earns you a giggle from the doctor.

He extends his arm, grabbing your shoulder; giving it a reassuring, albeit rough, squeeze "No surgery yet, but I can't have you running off either. What if I need you and you're busy? I can't have that. So you will be spending today with me and only me." His grip on your shoulder loosens, and he uses the same hand to wave you off. "Run along now. And don't keep me waiting." He winks at you, leaving you stunned as he leaves for his office.