Disclaimer – You recognise it, I don't own it.
1234567890
In the end, he just slept in for an extra hour the next day. He was getting used to his current situation. As much as he hated it, he was getting used to it.
He was still keeping up his exercise routine. Every morning and night. Even despite the long hours he'd been pulling. It was a way to remind himself that he wasn't just a Doctor. That he wasn't just what he was pretending to be. He had to be careful.
He had to be careful not to let his mask consume him.
He had to be careful not to let his mask slip.
Caught between a rock and a hard place.
Yet he had to keep his Oath.
He was eating his breakfast in the office when he heard the voice.
"Doc?"
For a moment John thought it was his patrol… His unit… His men.
He jumped to his feet and had he not been so tired, he would have run to the door.
But he recognised the voice as it called out a second time.
"Doc?"
It wasn't one of his men. It was Marcus Sharp, one of the wrench jockeys, as they called themselves.
"Yes?" John opened the door and stepped out.
"I caught myself on something, can you take a look at it?" Sharp had his right arm clutched to his chest, blood dripping through his fingers.
"Of course." John smiled, "Have a seat. What were you doing?"
"We got a new shipment of vehicles." Sharp replied, as John collected some equipment, "To replace the ones we lost in combat and because production is increasing, so there's more of us here. But all the vehicles have to be retrofitted."
"Hold still. This might sting." John laid the arm down on a small side table.
To be honest, it wasn't more than a shallow cut, already starting to scab over. Under normal circumstances, John didn't believe for an instant that Sharp would have sought medical aid.
But it was always the way. The moment a new medic joined a unit, he or she would be inundated with small petty things by a good portion of the unit. It was their way of sounding out the medic.
Testing him.
Was he patient? Was he kind? Did he know what he was doing? How did he react?
The Medical Assessments had allowed them some information about him. But they had been on John's terms.
Now they were testing him on their terms.
Oh, it was all unofficial, but John had been expecting it. Soldiers were soldiers no matter what allegiance.
Calmly John started to wash out the wound, being careful in case there were metal shavings or grease in the long shallow scratch.
"What do you have to fit?" John asked, more to make conversation that anything else.
"Mainly filters." Sharp shrugged, "Sand gets in the engine and we'll end up killing it. Plus they never come with the GPS units. It's like the Siegies don't think things through. They're the ones who insist everything has GPS tracking. But don't sort it out before they ship it to us…"
John gently dressed the wound and kept the conversation flowing. He knew that his continual survival depended upon the good will of his captors.
It was highly unlikely that whoever and whatever Cobra was that it had signed the Geneva Convention. So John had no protection, beyond what he could garner with his own abilities.
One wrong move and he could either end up dead or with the other prisoners being used as slaves.
And he had no illusions that he would be better off down there. He was safer where he was.
It also allowed him to keep his Oath.
He eventually sent Sharp on his way. Though he wasn't surprised that for the next few days he was inundated with patients.
A pilot with eyestrain, from too many computer games late at night.
A cook with a grease burn.
A sprained ankle from a computer tech, whom he also persuaded to set up the technical diagnostic equipment in the Infirmary.
A multitude of cuts and scratches and bruises from various people.
A minor concussion.
A tank jockey with the starting of a cold.
An infantryman with developing blisters.
Minor things really. But John treated them all with the same attitude. He never let himself seem annoyed or frustrated, no matter how he was feeling inside.
He had to keep his Oath.
123456789
John had been hoping to extend his medical examinations to the prisoners. But he hadn't expected it. He could see that Lieutenant Saini (Odd name, but not the worst John had met, at least he could pronounce it) would never relent to let him do so.
So John had put up a token protest at the denial. It was expected. And he had to do what was expected.
What he had been able to negotiate was that all new prisoners would be brought to him, so that he could check that they were fit to work. He didn't ask what would happen if he said they weren't. He both didn't want to know and knew what the answer would be.
He also had an agreement that if any prisoner was falling below what the Lieutenant deemed "satisfactory" work levels they would also be brought to him to see if they were fit for work.
Again, not hard to guess what would happen if he said they weren't.
123456789
It was nearly two weeks before John got to meet one of his fellow prisoners.
The prisoner in question was hauled into the infirmary, chained and gagged. Yet he was still fighting them the whole way.
The man was almost thrown to the ground, and still tried to kick a nearby ankle.
"Prisoner for treatment." Oliver Rudaski, an infantryman, declared.
"Key." John held out a hand, moving towards them, making sure that he wouldn't be kicked.
"What?" Gilles Klein, a pilot, frowned.
"You can hardly expect me to treat him, while he's all tied up." John pointed out, "I can't work like that."
A key was placed in John's palm.
"Right. Now get out." John instructed.
"What?" Rudaski stared, "No, Doc. We're not doing that."
"Doctor Patient Confidentiality." John stated firmly, "I will not break it. Out."
In the background of the confrontation, no one noticed the sudden stillness of the prisoner.
John held Rudaski's gaze, until the man got uncomfortable and left. Klein only a step behind him. John didn't move until the door shut behind them.
Then he turned and moved to release the prisoner from the handcuffs.
What happened next didn't surprise him. Not really.
It was a perfectly natural reaction.
The perfect response of a trained soldier.
John was pinned to the floor, with his attacker kneeling on his arms, and one arm pressed firmly across John's throat, threatening to cut off his oxygen supply.
"Move or scream and I'll kill you." The slightly wild-eyed prisoner declared.
1234567890
Please Review.
Just in case anyone is wonder, while this is the "Creation" story for TC Watson, it is also a tale I referenced slightly in TMPPotB. Which one? Wait and see… Or rather you should be able to figure it out.
I would like to thank my followers and reviewers. Thank you.
Grey-shadow-horse – Always beware the wolf in sheep's clothing… Or in this case the wolf in the big woolly jumper.
Kat-lady04 – Glad you like my choice. In my mind separating the Soldier and the Doctor is impossible.
IzzyDelta – Oh, yes! John's planning something. But he doesn't want you to know yet.
YYHfan-KB – No unnecessary details. But plenty of odd ones. And hints. If you know what to look for.
Johnsarmylady – Thank you. I just write the TC that forms in my mind… And he's getting stronger.
GabrielsDoubt – No. What's the film called? I might want to watch it.
Once again thank you.