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Wordcount: 2294
Warnings: bullying, wounds/illness, death, grief
Summary: A civilian volunteer field medic's trials begin even before she's deployed. Luckily she doesn't have to face the challenges alone.
...
"Leave me alone, Rode," you say anxiously as you push the much bigger man away.
"Come on, girl," Rode replies scornfully. "Do you really think the GAR would accept you out of all the volunteers as a field medic? You're delusional."
"I don't have to fight as a field medic, you big brute," you counter him, losing your temper. "The only enemy I'll be fighting out there is death and he can only be beaten by skills."
Rode grins as he corners you. You desperately look around for anyone that might come to your rescue, but that area of the Republic military base seems abandoned. All the volunteer troops must be out training with the clones, or they could be in the mess hall or the barracks. Typical, you think to yourself as your mind frantically lists all the things you could do in this tough situation. Rode's voice brings you back to the bitter reality of being isolated and alone with this knucklehead. "You're not so feisty now, are you? Come on, defeat me with your skills."
You try to look threatening as you glare at him. "Grow up, Rode. We are both volunteer medics, not damned teenagers. Stop with this nonesense and get back to your duties."
"Meh, those stupid wounded clones in the Infarmary can wait a little longer," Rode says in a careless manner. "I enjoy picking fights with you far more than being on duty."
"What the hell are you doing here in the GAR then? You volunteered to do a service to the Republic, but you just shit on it! And they're men. Not just "stupid clones"," you snap, almost trembling with anger.
"I'll second that," comes a firm voice from behind Rode. He steps back from you, revealing three clones approaching. By their armor, they appear to be high ranking officers or special troops.
"Oh, just shut up!"
"Volunteer field medics in training fall into the rank of a private. Clones or not," says the one who cut Rode off in the first place as they remove their helmets. He has short blonde hair and a very nasty glare fixed on Rode. "I'm afraid I'll have to report your blatant disregard for the wounded and the complete abandonment of your duties to high command."
"You can't tell me what to d-"
"He's a captain. Of course he can," speaks up the second clone as he steps closer, all broad shoulders and threatening vibes, like a hunter ready to pounce on its prey. The man has a goatie and the number "5" tattooed on his temple. He shoots you a reassuring smile before glaring at Rode again, who presses his lips into a thin line, but makes no further attempts at disobeying orders.
