The sound of beeping woke the sleeping doctor. He tried to open his eyes but found it impossible. The man's eyelids were heavy. He could see nothing but darkness so he turned to a more reliable sense. His hearing.
The sound of shoes on polished floor confused him as he tried to recognise his location. The sounds around him seemed extremely familiar but they seemed to be of little importance as if he heard them everyday. The sound of feet on polished floor and beeping was quickly joined with voices speaking in hushed tones a little distance away. Quickly, John's hearing became sharper and stronger so he could pick out quieter sounds. In the distance there was the sound of a busy road and lots of people talking and milling around. He couldn't tell which one was closer.
John could hear someone approaching him which caused him to tense up (mentally at least. He wasn't sure if his body was obeying the commands he was sending it). The person seem to go around the area where John was and, from the sounds of it, sit on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. The soldier waited to see if this visitor would speak to him. After a few minutes, John began to relax again. The person hadn't spoken to him and the doctor was beginning to think that nobody was actually there.
He relaxed into the beeping and decided that he should try and sleep. It was just before he drifted when he realised where he was. He had recognised the beeping, trainers on polished floor and voices in the distance. He was in Bart 's hospital. But why am I here?
The doctor then drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
He suddenly woke again. The tendrils of his dream were slowly exiting his mind. It wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare. He had dreamt of being shot while on duty. Which would never happen... would it?
His eyelids felt lighter than before so he immediately knew that he would be able to open them. What had happened?
A flashback suddenly flooded John's mind and he saw himself running in the intense Afghanistan heat. He could feel the sweat dripping down his spine and being absorbed into his sandy coloured uniform as he ran. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He was running away from someone-No. He was running towards someone. His sturdy boots were slipping on the sand as he pushed his legs to go faster, faster, faster!
He could feel the dry air burning in his lungs with every oxygen starved gulp he took. The doctor hoisted his heavy medical pack onto his left shoulder as he ran.
John stopped breathless and surveyed the scene in front of him. His eyes searched the sand for who he was looking for. His searching became desperate as his friend was no where to be seen. He took large ragged breaths of air and continued to pound on even though he couldn't see his final destination. His eyes darted around panicking and he could feel his chest going tight with worry. Where is he?!
John was about to throw himself into a run again when he saw it. He froze as he took in what he had just seen. Blood drying on the hot sand like crimson paint and the lifeless body beside it.
A soldier's nightmare.
The army medic launched forward fighting back the stinging in his eyes. He pumped his legs. Faster, faster, faster! He knew it wasn't safe but he didn't care.
He still had hope. He still believed that the still body had a chance. The doctor fell to his knees once he was close enough to his unmoving friend. He didn't notice that the blood was soaking into the knees of his uniform. He didn't care as the still warm liquid soaked up his legs spreading like dye does to a cloth.
Tears stung his eyes as he frantically felt for a pulse. Anything to say he was alright. That he would be alright. Anything. John held his fingers to his comrades neck and waited. His eyes darted over the blood soaked body in front of him searching for any movement. A rise and fall of the chest. A blink of an eye. Just anything.
Nothing.
John blinked back the tears as he ripped open his medical kit. He dug deep into the bag not really looking for anything in particular because he had nothing to cure this.
John sat back and pulled his knees to his chest. He let a tear glide down his cheek as he stared at his friend.
No. No. No. No. The doctor's breath was coming in short desperate gasps. He looked up to the clear blue sky above him and felt another tear fall down his cheek. This isn't right. This isn't supposed to end like this. Not for him. Not for him. It wasn't supposed to end this way.
John leant his friend's head back and gently pulled open the eyelid. He felt his breath catch in his throat as the usually so alive and sparkling eyes were now staring up at him lifeless and empty. He looked quickly down at his watch 3:21pm- Time of death.
John moved closer to his friend and moved his arms by his blood stained sides. He carefully pulled his friend's uniform open and located the bullet wounds. There were two. One in the chest and the other directly through the heart. The doctor looked up and into the horizon unable to stand the sight of what had killed his brother-in-arms.
He swallowed despite the lump in his throat and looked back down to his comrade. He pulled some cleaning equipment out of his kit and began to clean around the chest wound. He would put off the fatal heart wound for as long as he could, he couldn't stand it yet. As John cleaned the wound meticulous and professionally he could see an occasional tear falling and landing on his friend's chest.
John suddenly stopped as the sound of soft footfall on shifting sand alerted him to someone else's presence. The small man took a deep steadying breath and closed his eyes. He had no weapon to protect himself and his friend's had been taken after he had been shot.
He had contacted other units before coming out here so they would be on their way but they would be too late. The doctor shifted and stared straight ahead. It wasn't supposed to end this way. He was supposed to retire after a long and successful military career. That is what should happen.
He listened as the sand slipped away under the strangers weight. He closed his eyes and prepared to be shot. This wasn't the first time he had faced death and was determined that it wouldn't be the last.
Without any noise proceeding it the trigger was pulled. The echoing sound of a gun firing hit John first as it bounced around his head. Then the searing pain was next. A deep burning tore itself through John's shoulder. He could feel the muscule being ripped and the bone being shattered. The bullet, which had shattered, then tore its way through the skin on the soldiers back.
John doubled over in pain as the sound of fleeing footsteps retreated swiftly. He lifted a weak hand and held it to his left shoulder to try and halt the blood loss.
John lay on the sand beside his already passed friend waiting for death to come and claim him. He looked down weakly at his hand which was dripping with his blood. The crimson liquid was flowing out at a steady pace between his fingers even though he was putting pressure on the hole. As each drop of blood dripped out of him he could feel the life being drained away.
The over whelming pain guided him into unconsciousness just as he could hear an engine in the distance. As he took his last breath while conscious and thought, I'm not ready to go.
His eyes suddenly snapped open and he dragged a long breath into his desperate lungs. He glanced around the room frantically. His eyes only just focused on something before moving on to the next object. After he had established that everything was safe he let his body relax and the soldier closed his eyes in relief. His breath was still coming in quick gasps when he suddenly released that he wasn't alone in the room.
His eyes darted over to a man slouching in a plastic hospital chair. The man had dark brown curls and prominent features. He was sat in a creased and crumpled suit(with no tie) with black dress shoes.
This stranger was sleeping all crouched up in the chair. John looked over at him. Who was he? Why is he here? Why would you visit a soldier you don't even know?
John tried to push himself so he was sat up but the shuffling around caused his leg to scream out in pain. John gasped in air as the pain was like a sharp throbbing sensation. The soldier was confused. He was shot in the shoulder not leg. His shoulder was also throbbing. He frowned. I expected it to be worse than this.
Oh my God! He suddenly had a thought, what if they've amputated my arm. John swiftly grabbed his shoulder. A tinge of pain shot out from the area.
He physically sagged with relief when his hand came into contact with the damaged arm.
John flopped back on his uncomfortable pillows and let out a deep breath of air. He was okay. He was alright. He wasn't dead.
The soldier ran a hand through his short hair but frowned in bewilderment when it was longer then he remembered.
The doctor ran his hand over his tired face. He briefly contemplated whether he would be allowed to go back after he had fully recovered since he didn't feel to bad considering he'd been shot.
The army medic tried to swallow but his throat was parched and dry like the Afghanistan desert. He looked over to his beside table where his call button was and pressed it quickly.
A minute later a thin nurse came in dragging her feet. Her face lit up when she saw the visitor sleeping. The woman's eyes then shot over to John and a warm smile blossomed on her ruby red lips. The soldier peered across at the stranger in the chair. What had he done to make the nurse so fed up with him?
"Dr Watson!" She spoke cheerfully.
"Hello." John tried to force the word out of his mouth but the dryness just made the sound of rasping come out.
"Water?" Her blonde curls bounced around as she moved her head enthusiastically.
The blonde man nodded desperately and the nurse nodded before rushing off to fetch him something to drink.
The man asleep in the chair suddenly began to shift and wake up. John froze, unsure of who this man was. The tall man stretched and released a loud yawn. He turned to look at John, who he obviously expected to see asleep. A smile of relief mixed with joy appeared on his sharp face accentuating his high cheekbones.
Who is this man? What does he want with an injured solider?
