Infirmary

"What's your name, soldier?"  The doctor's voice had a friendly ring to it, like he was used to dealing with little kids or people who were afraid of him.  There were plenty of those.

            "F-fine," gulped Cedron, who hadn't really heard the question.  Doctor Hojo's hand felt oily on his back.

            If Hojo noticed that the young recruit hadn't been listening, he didn't say so.  The short man moved out of Cedron's view, fiddling with something on another table.

            "Um, Hoj – Doctor?"  He was aware of the fact that his voice was rising steadily, though it was high-pitched to begin with.  He wondered if his roommates would laugh.

            "Yes?"  Behind him.  Doing something he couldn't see or hear.

            "Are you sure this won't hurt?"

            Oily hand on his back again.  Not comforting, not even a travesty of comfort; he was prodding at Cedron's shoulder blades.  "Not much.  Maybe.  I don't know.  Besides, don't you want this to go away?"  He tugged on one of the protrusions – those odd, extra bones that seemed to appear high on the boy's back, just after he'd taken his mako test. 

            Summoning all of his courage, he mumbled, "With all due respect, sir, you put it there."

            "Now, now…" Hojo patted his back with unnecessary vigor, "we don't know that.  It could be a simple coincidence that this happened after your mako testing.  It's not like it's happened to everyone."  He paused.  "Anyone else, I mean."

            Cedron was no hero, so he left it at that, twisting his neck about to get a glimpse of the young Professor.

            He felt a prick on his shoulder, and as he looked to see what it was, Hojo quickly leaned forward and put one oily hand in front of his eyes.  "It's a shot, boy whose name escapes me," he explained, "and I'm sure you don't like shots."

            "It hurts more now, why'd you have to tell me that?"  Cedron whined.

            "All done."  The doctor helped him off the table where he had been lying on his stomach for half an hour.  He started toward the door, which prompted Hojo to move in front of him.  "Ah, no no – we can't leave you unsupervised overnight."

            "But I –"

            "Come on," the man flashed a smile (which was just as oily as his hands), putting a hand on Cedron's shoulder, "no sense in arguing, I am a doctor."  He led Cedron into a brighter, whiter room full of hospital-style beds.  "Now, I'm going to need you to just…stay here…"  He guided the boy over to one bed and Cedron allowed himself to be pushed, until he whimpered and pointed out, "Doctor, there's blood on this bed!"

            Hojo looked sharply at the pillow: indeed, there was a sizeable smattering of it there, as though someone had coughed… "Oh yes."  He muttered, more to himself than the patient.  "Well, it is an infirmary, you know."  He grabbed the pillow and exchanged it for one on the neighboring bed.  "There."

            "But – but –"

           "Relax," snapped Hojo.  Cedron shut his mouth.  The doctor glared at him.  "Much better.  Now, I have to be going, so you try to get some rest.  And don't touch anything," he added.  With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, slamming the door.

            "D-Doctor?"  Cedron ventured.  Click.  The door locked.  From the other side.  "Doctor!"  He shouted.  There was a man four beds down who was having trouble breathing.  He rolled over, reached for Cedron.

            "He-eh-l…" the man choked.

            "Doctor, Doc – please, please, God!"  Cedron threw himself at the door, pounding furiously at the metal.  The other man was trying to say something, but he could only get out a few syllables between hoarse wheezing.  On the other side of the door, nothing but silence.  Cedron cried.