An Attempt at Intervention
Based on this image by Minttu. Also, this was very shoddily done. Many apologies.
-Killigan
The light in the infirmiry is grainy, filtering weakly through the shutters to cast a pale light on the tabletops. It makes the doctor's haunt seem desolate, cold.
The Medic places his palms on the desk and stands, leaning heavily on the surface. He's tired, Dell knows, and his orders for the two of them to meet here are only wasting the German's time, they both know it. There's no changing Dell's mind.
He examines the mechanical tips of his Gunslinger's fingers, rubbing the thumb and forefinger together idly.
"'Insane,' Doc?"
He doesn't need eyes in the back of his head to know that the Medic's gaze is on him, his expression as worried and cautious as it had been before Dell had turned away.
"Herr Engineer-" Medic pauses, as if waiting for Dell to cut him off. When he doesn't, he clears his throat and continues. "You know I do not follow zhe Hippocratic Oath as closely as I swore to. You know I am a man of...questionable actions."
Dell feels a smirk twitch at the ends of his lips.
"-But vhen you go and do zhese zhings, especially vithout at least asking me if it is sanitary, if it is sane, it makes me vorry for your mental stabilty."
"I'm sane as can be, Doc." Dell says. He twists around in his seat, feeling the cold examination table's top press against the palm of his hand. The Gunslinger sits in his lap, unmoving. "You ain't got a thing to worry about, I've told you that before."
"Take off your goggles."
"Why?"
The Medic stares unblinkingly at him, drawing up to his full height so that his back is a taut, erect line. "I am your doctor, Herr. Do not question me."
Tugging his goggles off, Dell already knows where this is going. He steels himself.
Sharp blue eyes examine him.
"Your eyes are bloodshot. Zhere are dark creases beneath your eyes. You are unshaven." He casts the Engineer a calculating look, one of tired wariness. "Vhat have you been planning?"
"Nothin', sir."
"Do not insult me. You have been staying up late in zhat workshop of yours."
Medic suddenly seems to cave in slightly, his posture going slightly lax as he rubs at his temple.
"I know I cannot stop you, Herr. I have merely brought you here to ask zhat you refrain from any more of your vild experiments."
Dell's jaw clenches; he slides off the table and pushes his hardhat out of his eyes. "Now listen, Doc. I respect you. You know I do. I think you're an intelligent man and a brilliant doctor. But where would this team be without experimenting? Solly wouldn'ta learned to rocket jump if he didn't get the idea in his head that he could get higher up by blastin' his feet off."
He pauses, letting his temper cool.
"You just can't ask me that, Doc. You and I both know this team wouldn't be here if we didn't experiment. It ain't fair to either of us."
The Medic nods slowly, processing Dell's words.
"I don't mean t'admonish you, Doc. But we both know you're not going to win this argument."
"If you would just rezhink your methods-"
"Doc."
The German falls silent, and Dell knows it's over. He approaches the taller man and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, a silent 'no hard feelings.'
"My apologies." Medic mumbles, and brings up a gloved hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "I should not have tried to order you about."
"S'alright, Doc." Dell says. "I know you mean well."
There is no sound from the Medic as Dell gives his shoulder a final pat. He turns his back, and as he heads for the door, hears the scrape of Medic's chair as he goes back to his desk.
The Gunslinger is on the door handle when he pauses. Looking back, Dell sees the German's eyes on him. He raises his free hand in a wave, and the Medic waves back.
He swears he sees a flicker of fear in those eyes before he's out the door.
Bleegh.