LEGAL DISCLAIMER: MacTavish, Price, Riley and the other characters you'll recognize from the Call of Duty: Modern Warfare series are the property of Infinity Ward/Activision/Sledgehammer Games/Raven Software.
Lara 'Bones' McCoy is the creation of Sassy Satsuma, author of Caught in the System and my beta/writing partner of five years. She is being used with the author's permission.
A/N: This drabble was first posted on Tumblr on 2/5/2014. This was before Sassy had posted Chapter 29 of CITS (and if you haven't read it yet, what are you waiting for). Frankly, this one-shot won't make a lot of sense if you're not. I'd been buzzing in her ear about Price discovering the illicit affair between Soap and TF 141's medic, Lara, and how he could use that to get his way. This happens aboard a US Navy aircraft carrier after Price's rescue, right before the Contingency mission to the submarine base. Full of misgivings, some of which she can't explain, she wants to bench Price, claiming medical reasons - and knows it won't go over well with either Soap or the Old Man.
This is one of my favorite pieces of writing, in that it actually flowed fairly easily for once. It was important for my development as a writer, since part of that is giving yourself permission to write what makes you uncomfortable, which this did. Price had to be true to my vision of his character, which meant saying and doing things I didn't necessarily like.
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As soon as Lara arrived at the infirmary, two Navy corpsmen, their hair drawn up in tight buns and stethoscopes hanging around the necks of their blue camouflage uniforms, stood just outside the white double doors with the stenciled red lettering. Waiting for her. Looking bemused.
One thrust a chart into Lara's hands. "Godspeed, ma'am," she drawled.
Smirking, they both took off down the narrow corridor toward the smell of coffee, the other woman mumbling under her breath. "You're gonna need it, honey."
Lara looked down at Price's chart and sighed. "Cheers."She took a quick look. Still not much to go on — the man was stubborn even in writing. Clapping it shut, she took a deep breath before pushing the door open. The white room was small and spare. Supplies were corralled behind gleaming lines of stainless steel on neat shelves, clear plastic suction containers and other medical equipment mounted to the wall. Everything secure and in its place. If only he were that easy to sort out. Feeling his eyes on her, she closed the door, ensuring what passed for privacy. "Good morning, sir."
Price gave her a Hmph from where he sat on the exam table.
"You're looking a bit better today. How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." It was true, his overall color had improved, even if his disposition hadn't. "Can I go now?"
"Not just yet." She flicked through the chart, lifting an eyebrow. "I see you at least let them take your vitals before showing them the door, those are good. No blood-borne disease, chest X-ray is clear. It'll be another day or so before we see the results of the skin test, though. I wouldn't be surprised if it shows you were at least exposed to TB. You were in a prison, after all — "
"They must have tested you at first, put you through your paces," said Price.
Lara gave him a puzzled look.
He tipped his head toward the door. "Maybe not these lads so much, but the squaddies." His eyebrows shot up. "Queued up to see the lady doctor, did they?"
Oh that. She chuckled, unable to help herself. "Of course – at first. Until I started handing out Hello Kitty plasters. Everyone seemed so much healthier after that, and you'd be amazed at the healing power of the occasional tampon."
He was supposed to laugh, or at least return her smile. He didn't. "You've seen some action, then?"
"Sir?"
"That scar on your forehead."
Tiny and faded, no one ever noticed it. Gooseflesh prickled her arms. "RPG," she said, trying not to betray her alarm at how bloody observant he was. "Knocked me down, dislocated my shoulder. Wasn't long after I'd joined the 141."
"Baptism by fire, eh?" He gave a hum of appraisal, nodding. "Forges the bond. I'll bet they'd do just about anything for you."
What did that mean? "They had my six, just like I had theirs."
"I don't doubt that. What I doubt is their judgment - if things should really go to shit. If something were to really happen to you."
So this was his angle. Nothing she couldn't handle, she'd heard it all before. "Do you think so little of them, that they would forget their training that quickly?" Lara asked, deflecting it back at him.
"What people won't talk about has been around since mankind began to walk on two legs. Their instinct is to protect you, to the point where they might not protect themselves. You're a distraction, McCoy."
Right. The same old bollocks. One would think he'd know better than to piss off the medic, it was an unwritten rule. What she was about to say had nothing to do with that, though he wouldn't see it that way. Oh well. She'd put it off long enough. Time to meet Riley's 'Ice Queen'. That's Doctor Ice Queen to you, short arse.
"Sir," she said in a clipped tone, giving him a clinical nod. "It's timely that you express your concerns for the team's safety, since my first responsibility is to their well-being." She drew herself up to her full height, looking down at him – they hated that. "I assure you that I'm quite concerned as well, about the idea of clearing you for duty right now. You're malnourished and according to your lab results, mildly dehydrated. You need at least a few days to get some rest, get some food and fluids in you - the food here is supposed to be pretty good, if you can tolerate it."
Price glowered up at her – he hated it, all right. "Well that's a matter of opinion, isn't it?"
"How much have you eaten since you've been here?"
"A bit."
Lara sighed. "About what's going on under your shirt… " She softened her voice, leveling with him. "Look sir, if you don't want to tell me what happened, that's fine. But you're going to have to tell someone. I know how much you want back into the fight — maybe badly enough to downplay some of your discomfort." She gave him an admonishing look. "X-rays show some old fractures. Between that and all the bruising, I'm concerned about what I might be missing here. While the ultrasound might not show anything, that doesn't mean there still isn't something going on with you. I think there might be, and if I don't rule that out, I'm putting both you and the team at risk. I know what this means to you, what it means to the Captain. Despite what anyone wants, I have to do the right thing. I'm ordering further testing, which means you're grounded until the first medevac flight out of here. I'm sorry."
It wasn't the strongest rationale, but it was the best she had; no one was interested in her woman's intuition. The team would soon be on its way to Rybachiy, the very thought of which made her stomach flutter. She had to stop Price from going somehow, she didn't even fully know why. John would be upset, maybe even angry with her after their drowsy conversation between the sheets — he'd been somewhat defensive then. With her luck, Price would probably make his way back onto the team anyway. If not now, then eventually. She dreaded that possibility, but would have to deal with it when the time came. Hello Mum? Yeah, everything's great. Oh, you know, the usual. Making new friends … one enemy at a time.
Price's body tensed and then immediately settled, his expression cooling. She knew better than to read that as acceptance. Especially in the long silence that followed — the air felt oddly different, still and heavy, like before a thunderstorm.
Jaw muscles flexed beneath his graying, bristly beard. Staring past her at the supply cabinet, he nodded slowly. "So you're the first, then? The shining example of equality in the UK special forces."
Lara stiffened. Really, mate? For all the hushed talk about the legendary Price, she'd expected better from him … or maybe this is what she should have expected after all. She let the surge of anger out in a slow steady exhale, well practiced in this particular duel. "Seems that way."
"In my day, there wasn't even a question of letting a woman in."
Poor John – she understood it now. But she'd be damned if she was going to let the Old Man rattle her.
"Times marches on. Things change – even when people don't," said Lara.
Turning to her, he smiled coldly. "Not really. The reasons why it shouldn't happen, they're exactly the same."
Lara raised an eyebrow. "Fireman's carry in full kit? With respect, sir, do you realize how many times I've heard that?"
"I'm sure. But that's not the real problem, is it love? How fitting that this should be the scene of the crime."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Price craned his head, having an exaggerated look around, before focusing back on her. "A US Navy ship." His gray eyes narrowed, forming deep lines in bruised flesh. "How apropos."
She returned his severe look with her own, her teeth on edge. "I'm afraid I don't follow."
He chuckled, clearly not buying it. "Come off it, girl. It might have been before your time, but everyone knows about the Acadia. First US wartime ship with a mixed crew. The great experiment, but the proof is in the pudding, isn't it?" A fleeting twitch of his mouth, as if he'd unintentionally amused himself. "30% female, and by the end of the mission -" he glanced at her midsection with thinly veiled contempt. " -ten percent up the duff."
Her face flamed at the memory of her earlier comment - no pitter patter of tiny MacTavish feet. She nearly choked on her words. "Excuse me?"
His eyes gleamed at her reaction, then hardened.
"Careers ended over that one. Would you have his end over a bit of skirt?"
Her heart skipped a beat — it took every ounce of strength she possessed to remain composed. John wouldn't have told him, how could he possibly know? He had to be bluffing.
"I don't —"
"Oh but you do." He wasn't looking at her so much as through her. "His won't be the only one. If word gets out, your shining example could become a different one entirely. Shepherd and your own command have a lot riding on this. The brass don't like to be made fools of."
Lara tried to swallow, her mouth beyond dry. Now she was the one who felt small.
"And the other lads in the 141, what will they think of you then? That's assuming none of them know you quite as intimately as Soap does." He curled his lip. "Either way, the team you claim to care so much about will tear itself apart."
Her heart was pounding in her throat, in her temples. She felt dizzy, numb. Hot and cold.
"As for the squaddies, they'll be talking about you for years: the Army's own Jezebel. The one that brought down a recipient of the Victoria Cross and the Distinguished Service Order … a true war hero." For a brief moment, Lara saw past the gruff exterior, saw his true motive. He was protecting John. His forehead creased, his eyes suddenly bright with concern, Price shook his head in sad disbelief. "They'll talk about how Soap lost his career. His pension."
The caring expression gone in a flash, he hopped off the table. She took a step back, but in the cramped room his icy glare was right in her face.
"But no one — no one — will hold you in greater contempt than your own peers. The other female officers, who had to fight harder to earn the same respect as their male counterparts. Who've waited for a chance to prove themselves in the special forces for how long now? Precious ground lost, their honor tarnished — all because you couldn't keep your legs shut."
She couldn't control her trembling either. Not anymore. In her body, in her quivering lip, her flaring nostrils. God damn him. Only one thing left, and she'd die before giving him the satisfaction.
He wedged past her, reaching for the door. Glancing over his shoulder at the passing voices just beyond it, he lowered his voice to a menacing whisper.
"Time to think about your endgame, girl. For both your sakes. But don't take too long. A carrier might be like a floating city, but you could find out just how small a ship it can be."
The sound of his retreating footsteps hadn't completely faded before the tears began to fall.