The Medic - Book One

CHAPTER FIVE

The first few weeks flew by in a blur of activity for Percy. Each day brought new challenges and opportunities to learn. The med bay became a hub of activity, with officers coming in for their mandatory weekly check-ups or the occasional injury. Percy's proposal had been met with some resistance initially, but as the weeks passed, the officers began to see the value in the check-ups. Small issues were caught early, preventing them from becoming larger problems.

Despite the busy schedule, Percy found that he hadn't had much time to make friends. His interactions were professional and focused on the health and well-being of the officers. He appreciated the camaraderie of the team, but he still felt like an outsider looking in.

His banter with Street had become a constant in his day-to-day life. Whenever they saw each other, there was always a quick exchange of sarcastic remarks. It was their way of communicating, a strange dance of mutual respect hidden under layers of snark.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session with Mumford's squad, Percy was restocking the med bay when Street walked in, a smirk already forming on his lips.

"Organizing again? I think you'd have an easier time remembering where things are if you just left them where they're supposed to go," Street joked, leaning against the doorway.

Percy shot back, "Well I keep needing to find places with more space for all the extra equipment I'll need for when you inevitably hurt yourself again. How's the ankle holding up, by the way?"

Street shrugged, "Better. Your magic touch, I suppose."

Their banter was interrupted by an urgent call on the radio. An officer was down during a training exercise, and Percy's expertise was needed immediately. Without a second thought, Percy grabbed his medical bag, and to his surprise, Street followed.

"Coming to make sure I do my job right?" Percy asked as they hurried through the hallways.

"Just making sure you don't get lost," Street replied, the smirk still present but a hint of concern in his eyes.

They arrived at the gym to find an officer, a newer recruit Percy hadn't had many interactions with, clutching his arm in pain. Percy quickly assessed the situation, diagnosing a dislocated shoulder. With precise and careful movements, he managed to pop the shoulder back into place, eliciting a gasp of relief from the injured officer.

As the officer thanked Percy, Street looked on, his usual facade of indifference slightly cracked. "Not bad, Doc," he conceded as they left the gym.

Percy smiled, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. "Thanks, Street. Coming from you, that almost sounds like a compliment."

Street just rolled his eyes but didn't deny it.

~*~

Percy was sitting at his desk on a dreary day, staring at his half-eaten lunch. A nasty cold was sweeping through HQ, and Percy had been overrun with paperwork and patients for the past three weeks. He felt exhausted, the room was stifling, and his head hurt from trying to fight through the dyslexia while he read all the patient reports.

"Whatcha daydreaming about Doc?" Street's voice broke through his musings, and Percy turned to look at Street, who was leaning against his desk. How had he gotten so close?

Percy's brain felt a bit fuzzy, "Huh?" he mumbled, and Street gave him a concerned look.

"You alright, Jackson?" He asked, leaning closer to him. Percy leaned back. He was already overheating, and more body heat wouldn't help. Suddenly a hand was on his forehead, and Percy went cross-eyed trying to see what was going on.