"Gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit, he runs, wishing he could fly,"
I'm marched through what is left of town. The screaming has died away, fire claims most of the land, the wind spreading it faster than the snow can put out. It smells vile, like charred flesh and gasoline. Stormtroopers are scattered on the streets, occasionally the sound of a blaster, sometimes a blast in the distance. I wear pieces of my co workers, blood and flesh, grey matter. I feel disconnected, like something has been severed inside me. I feel numb.
"We've captured a nonpartisan, a trauma Doctor by the name of Rosaline," Captain Phasma is speaking into her helmet, clearly reporting back.
"I see. Understood," I am poked in the back to walk faster, lead into her ship. A lot of movement of mine feels like I'm an autopilot. Its more than I could ask for.
"You are an interesting find apparently," She addresses me and I look at her from the seat I'm put in against the wall as a pair of cuffs are placed on my wrists.
"What does a trauma surgeon do?"
"I deal in critical care cases, emergencies,"
"Do you have field experience?"
"What do you mean?"
"Have you ever had to treat someone outside the hospital in an emergency?"
"Yes. I was a medic before I became an in house doctor,"
"And you will treat anyone of any colour, race, gender, loyalty?"
"Yes,"
"Why?"
"Regardless of what they have done, or who they are, everyone deserves my best, the murderer deserves the same effort I would give the saint. It is not up to me who lives and who dies,"
"You have been chosen to work for the First Order. We'll soon see if you uphold that vow," I turn my face away, looking down at my boots. I'm glad they're leather, I'd never get blood or cerebral matter from suede.
We do not choose who lives or die. My mothers words come back to me, guiding me through what is a comfortable disassociation and I hope, when my mind finally gives in, I will find comfort in her words.
* * * * * * *
I am taken to be processed first, my job will be in their medical wing. I will take care of whomever they please according to Captain Phasma. I must have convinced her I could do my job. As if she would know the difference.
Of course, these patients will be First Order and their associates. I can't imagine Resistance being welcomed for treatment. I frown, before reminding myself of my vow. I swore to take care of everyone the same, no matter what. What I'm doing here is no different to what I was doing back home. I don't think I've ever knowingly treated First Order.
As I stand waiting, I catch my reflection in a mirrored panel. From head to toe I am blood soaked, streak of dried blood across my face. Hair blackened by the fires fumes in the air. I look away, hardly recognizing myself, feeling my hands begin to shake. Not yet. Don't let them see Rose.
Looking up, I find myself looking into a glass balcony overlooking the hanger and there is the Supreme Leaders apprentice. Kylo Ren. Surrounding the rumours we heard back home, most of these horrendous raids were lead by him. His hands are behind his back as he stands watching, dressed head to toe in black. A long billowing cape of darkest black, a large mask that covers his entire face and neck, with silver details on the front. The mask hiding the demon beneath it. Or at least so I've heard. I wonder if he feels my gaze as he looks down in my direction.
"Move," The Stormtrooper grabs my arm and I move along with them slowly, adrenaline beginning to wear off and I know I'm starting to run on fumes. Just a little more. I'm shoved in a room, told to strip and shower. I'm grateful for this at least. The idea of staying covered in people was enough to make me sick. I make it quick, thanking my lucky stars for a bar of soap. All too soon, the water stutters off as I finish and I'm thrown a towel, some plain black clothes in a neat pile along with my boots. I get to keep my shoes and they've been wiped down, that's a nice little bonus.
I dress, glad to find they gave a bra with the clothes. A girl like me needs her support. A woman and a man enter with a clipboard, I am photographed, my height taken, and finally a chip is injected under my skin before I am lead down several corridors, everything a blur of black, chrome, Stormtroopers and other staff. I'm pushed into what is no more than a cupboard with a bed, a toilet and a small cubicle I assume to be a shower in it, the door giving a resounding click as it closes.
Alone. Finally alone. My body starts to shudder and I know it's coming, the dam about to burst, the flood gates breaking. I hold my breath as the door opens again and a tray is shoved into the room. I glance at it, biting my lip to the hot tears threatening to spill. A single half bottle of water and a bowl of something grey. Turning my back on it, I crawl into the bed before allowing myself to feel everything. I scream into my pillow, as over and over and over, like gunshots in my head, I see Anthony, that young nurse, the blood, the screams, the cries. I vomit in the small toilet, unable to control my body as shock sets in and I curl into a ball on the floor, shaking violently as I try my damnedest not to scream anymore.
My hands heal.
They don't hurt people.
My hands heal.
My job is to heal.
I have to remain neutral.
My job is to heal.
I have to remain neutral.
My job is to heal.
My hands heal.
Over and over I repeat my mantra, over and over, trying to block out the worst of the sounds ringing in my head.
Cry and let it be done. My mothers words come back to me and I nod, as if she's still here. Cry and then take it one day at a time. Oh mum, this is so much different than anything else. I wish I could talk to you, I wish I could have your advice. I'm working for monsters.
* * * * * * *
YOU ARE READING
Surrender
Fanfiction"The victor will always be the judge and the vanquished the accused," Rosaline. Even her name reminds him of the fields and summers growing up. Kylo Ren not Ben. Even his name isn't the same. But in war, who really is that same person they were? ...
