Chapter 1

16 0 0
                                    

TW: Slight mentions of cancer
WC: 1700


Time was never on her side. It seemed as if Ophelia's heavenly clock was always fighting against her. She watched as the analog clock ticked by slowly. The second hand was nothing but a tease as she waited for her lunch break to end. Ophelia had been working on another cancer study and she would have started working on it sooner, clocking in before her lunch was even over, had she not done exactly that seven times this week. The hospital she worked for currently was growing tired of her putting in so much overtime. Some were worried for her health while others didn't want to pay for the overtime.

She never pushed herself intentionally. Time slipped from her mind as easily as pudding through a fork. The moment the clock struck 3:30 pm, she clocked in on her computer as quickly as she could before returning to her studies.

"Dr. Burns?" a small rap came from her door as a petite, older lady knocked. She was always so considerate of Ophelia's space so when she did interrupt, Ophelia knew it must be important. With a slip of an irritated sigh, not directed at Ms. Lauren, she turned herself in her stool to face the swinging door of the white medical lab.

The lab consisted of completely white walls with black desks and black leather stools. It was a small ten by twelve room but it was all Ophelia needed. Scattered around her workstation were spiral notebooks, all filled to the last page and loose pieces of printer paper containing all the charts and graphs she needed for her research.

"Yes, Ms. Lauren?" Ophelia cleared her throat, trying to sound as polite as possible. Ms. Lauren didn't deserve Ophelia's irritation. Her smooth, London accent poured from her in a soft manner as she attempted to act calm.

"This is Captain John Price, he wishes to speak with you about an important matter." Ms. Lauren also had a smooth London accent which was what the two were able to bond over so quickly as they were both in Texas at the moment.

"Thank you for letting him in, I can take it from here." Ophelia nodded politely to the short little lady. As she moved to her side to slip out the door, the full sight of the Captain that stood behind her was now on view for Ophelia.

"Captain, come in. Sorry for the mess. What can I help you with?" Ophelia asked as she stood, straightening her lab coat before extending a hand for him to shake.

He happily shook her hand before they both took a seat, her in her original seat and him in a stool just across from her own. "I hope I'm not interrupting. I'm here to speak with you about an important proposition."

Ophelia focused her sight on the man before her. He wore a fisherman's hat, a black button down jacket and standard denim jeans with black combat boots. His eyes were soft and kind with a smile that was outlined by connected mutton chops.

"On behalf of the British task force 141, I'd like to extend an invitation to be our personal doctor. The pay is higher, there is a chance for travel, and you'll receive your own suite on the base." He spoke in a Liverpudlian accent, one she was used to hearing back home. He must have flown far to meet me.

"What's the occasion, and why of all doctors, me? I have no ties with the military, nor do I have any experience."

"I've read your bio, you're insanely smart and with how quickly you've earned your degree has stood out to me and my team. It was a group decision." His professionalism dropped the more he spoke. "We need someone who can keep up with a team like ours. I'm sure you've done your research on the medical field in the military but this is different. The conditions are better and we need someone with your skill set. Not many doctors can deal with what I've seen in your file." He laughed about the last bit as if mutilation was a joking matter to him.

Strength TogetherWhere stories live. Discover now