Revised on the 31st of October 2017
Boots thumped along a cracked concrete road, the path winding up a mountain with an old facility located on its peak. The worn-down structures surrounded by large, metal satellite arrays that pointed to the sky but have not served their purpose for centuries. Still rusting to the foundation. A huge crater not far from the facility glowed with so much radiation to make anyone's Geiger Counter click faster than a hive of mutant insects. Yet, even with all those hazards, the greatest danger this threat posed to any human brave or stupid enough to listen to those ramblings radio transmissions were the inhabitants that swarmed the entire mountain. Pounds upon pounds of muscle mass packed into hulking, dark-green giants of men; Remnants from an army that ceased a long time ago, but not nearly as ancient as the facility they were guarding. Didn't help that they had Pre-War military hardware. At least the sun wasn't out, the heat would have made the situation even more unbearable. The moon, the gunfire, and occasional garbage bonfire provided enough light in the dark.
"Dammit!" one of the men, the tallest of the group, dove behind a concrete wall to evade a minigun burst. The old wall being chipped away at a thousand rounds a second, the machine making a terrible noise with its register.
Another man then took cover next to him, dressed in an armored jumpsuit and a western hat. Bandoliers around his chest and hip. He hugged an old R91 Assault Rifle close to his chest, holding onto the weapon's wooden furniture as he turned to face the other man. Fully displaying a severely-scarred face, an eyepatch over his left eye, and a ginger goatee.
"We're in shit valley, now!" the ginger man cursed, trying to peer out of cover until a stray round made him recoil back. "How much goddamn ammo does that big motherfucker have?!"
The man next to him – dressed in a brown duster and wearing aviators beneath a red cap – held up an old M1 Garand he had, his shooting hand grabbing the cloth wrapped around the rifle's grip and his support hand holding the fore end, rubbing his fingers against the words carved into the wood on its side.
"Wait for him to stop shooting, I guess," he offers, slightly out of breath.
"Oh, great fucking advice, chief," the one-eyed man remarked, returning some fire before being forced to hunker down, again.
"It was only a suggestion, Russell, you ginger fuck!"
The "chief" looked around, trying to find a way to circumvent the situation and saw on the other side was another man, also with a red cap like his, firing at the mutants with a sniper rifle behind the cover of some metal wreckage. The Sniper wasn't alone, as a floating robot with antennas protruding from its spherical body supported him by firing a red-hot laser from a muzzle protruding from its base. However, as he watched them, he then heard stomping and felt a shadow cast over him from behind. He turns around to see a Super Mutant hovering over him, letting out a bloodthirsty roar as he swung a Super Sledge at the smaller being. The man ducked, letting the hammer slam into his concrete cover and shattering it into rubble. He then unloaded a barrage of .30-06 rounds, dumping the entire magazine into the mutant until the rifle ejected its clip and made that audible "ping". The Super Mutant's face exploding into a mangled mess from the powerful Pre-War relic at a close range and collapsing to the ground with a thud.
Thinking fast, the battle rifle-wielding human got up and jumped over the dead body as he made his way around, the Super Mutant having revealed it. Rounding the corner of the crumbling building and taking cover behind a rusted-out car, he sees the minigun mutant across the road from him still suppressing the others. Letting loose an unrelenting volley of munitions that lit up the rocks and ruins around him with constant muzzle flare. Watching the rounds fly like an angry glowing swarm. The man sets the rifle down and reaches for his pack, digging through it before retrieving a grenade with green glowing coils on its body. Pulling the pin, he throws it at the minigun-wielding mutant, who notices the explosive landing at his feet before being enveloped by a field of hot green energy. Seeing that, the man ran across the road, evading fire coming from up the mountain. Getting there to find the Super Mutant was still alive but wailing in agony as green goo scalded his body, his legs appearing to have melted. The human then swiftly held his rifle against the mutant's face and fire off two shots, executing the poor bastard. After that nasty bit of business, he crouched down and began examining the dropped minigun, unfortunately seeing that it had also sustained damage from the grenade.
"Fuck!" he cursed, as what would've been a helpful tool for them in the firefight was now a piece of scrap.
"Nathan!"
He looked to see Russell behind another structure across from him, trying to get his attention.
Unfortunately, the rest of his message was cut off as something kicked him to the ground, hard, and he could barely do anything as two large hands grabbed him and flung his body against a concrete wall – crashing with enough force to crack the surface. Flopping onto the dirt, feeling the mother of all backaches radiating throughout his spine. Feeling his internal organs still shake from the force. Nathan looks up but sees the moon's light is distorted by something in front of it, looking as if the air was shimmering above him. An unseen figure bearing down on him before feeling what felt like a boulder crashing into his stomach. Screaming as he feels something break and his insides get further turned into mush. Feeling the blood flood onto his tongue wanted to make him vomit, but meaty fingers wrapped around his throat and he was raised up into the air, enough for the tall man to be lifted off his feet. His foe finally appeared in an electric fizzle, face-to-face with a very pissed off blue Super Mutant. Then, as hard as the human could and as he hung in the air, he threw a fast right hook into the mutant's face. His fist thumping as it contacted the thick skin. Strong enough to dislocate the jaw of a normal human, but only enough to piss the genetically modified super-soldier off even more.
"No more games, human!" the giant bellowed, practically spitting on the human's face and the smell of rotting meat invading his nose.
Then, one hand went down and grabbed one of Nathan's leg before the human felt himself get hoisted high above the Nightkin's head, fifteen feet into the air. The man squirmed and shook, trying to wrestle himself from the strong grasp as hard as he could. Barely budging from the monster's grasp.
"Now, you die!" the Nightkin roared into the air, over the sounds of gunfire and energy blasts.
The Courier panicked, screaming as he tried to double his efforts of freeing himself which only resulted in feeling the large hands clamp around him even tighter, almost crushing his bones. Then, the air started rushing around him as he plummeted to the ground. Not even hearing the collision before feeling it.
"Russell!" Nathan screamed, awakening and staring up at the ceiling. He tries to get up, but the sudden wave of pain in his abdomen only made him keel over and clutch his stomach with his left hand. Gritting his teeth, feeling a sharp stinging on the left side of his chest with every breath. Feeling his muscles seize up, as if jolted by a shock of electricity, before settling back into a relaxed state. He hyperventilates, only making the stinging worse and feels himself let out a few wheezes. Then, he feels a metal hand lays itself upon his bruised chest.
"Be calm, my friend, calm" he hears the soft-spoken Monk speak, hovering near the ground and close to the wounded man. "Rest easy."
"Where… Where am I?" Nathan rasped out, looking around to see the familiar interior of the dropship. His bedding placed near the open space of the basketball court.
"Somewhere safe. Now please, lie down. You will only be making your injuries worse."
The metal hand on his chest began to apply force, but gentle enough to simply coerce his body into lying back down onto the bedding, making him rest for his own good. Still, the aching pervaded throughout his body.
"But… Black Mountain," the Courier continued, exhausted breaths hampering his speech. "The mutants… Russell…"
"Rest, my friend, rest," Zenyatta calmly reiterated, laying a gentle hand on his bandaged shoulder. "In your situation, it'd be imperative to focus on recovery. Unless… You wish to discuss what you witnessed in your dreams?"
Nathan looked at Zenyatta, the Omnic looking down on him with those two slits. The nine floating spheres slowly orbiting his head at a steady pace. Despite what had happened in the past few hours resulting in his current condition and the nightmare that shook him awake, he at least felt a little bit better knowing someone like him was keeping an eye on the Wastelander. And the seasoned wanderer knew better than most to not question his blessings - the few he's received.
"Just old memories," the Courier half-answered, staring up at the ceiling.
"You mentioned a name," Zenyatta recalled, bowing his head slightly in thought before looking up. "Who was it?"
"Russell. He's a friend, back home… Was a friend."
The sound of wind rushing and feeling the cabin shake made him crane his neck up to look around, again. Nathan didn't remember getting inside the aircraft, but he chalks that up to him simply passing out from exhaustion. He looks down at his own body and sees he is covered in bandages and gauze. Seeing either discolored, bruised skin under the wrapping or red staining the cloth-like surface. Even his right arm was in a sling, seemingly hastily put there by someone who had rudimentary first-aid skills at best. He noticed there was a slight, golden glow hovering above him and looked to see it was one of those orbs the Omnic Monk could possess. Even looking at it gave him a soothing feeling, but he could still feel his bones broken.
Hearing noise to the left, he saw Lúcio at the booth with his back to them, arranging and sorting some luggage, especially two exceptionally large crates that had to be the ones he uses to store some of his concert equipment. The DJ didn't pay them any mind, as his head bobbed up and down with the faint sound of music emanating from his position. Sounded loud for Nathan to hear it on the other side of the craft. Then, he heard someone else talking and turned his head towards the center to see Lena at the command desk, looking at a holopad. The voice emanating from the device was enough to tell him who she was talking to.
"… And the big stomper collapsed to the ground in a big blaze!" Lena recalled the events, smiling as if she was recounting a bedtime story for kids. "I thought we were goners for sure."
"Well, it's great to see you weren't," the voice of Winston resonated through the speakers. "Though, you said that only one of Brin's grenades took down the AAD?"
"Yup, one electromagnetic burst and the entire thing came crashing down. Poof! I could barely it myself."
"Interesting, I'll have to inquire about these 'Pulse' grenades to him, later."
Nathan was already silently rolling his eyes, the exasperation almost enough to drown out the discomfort for the moment.
"However, I also want to discuss the extra help you had," the Scientist continued, unaware that Nathan was in earshot of their conversation. "Efi Oladele and her Omnic, Orisa. I heard that little girl and her friend were very brave aiding you guys in the fight."
"You bet," the Pilot agreed, her smile becoming larger. "I don't know what Efi's been doing, but Orisa can really hold her own."
"That's really great to hear! Especially about a talented, intelligent young woman like her. In fact, hearing about Orisa's prowess on the field and what she's capable of got me to consider some… Possible opportunities."
"What do you mean by that, big guy?"
"Well, Orisa sounds like a really heavy hitter. Very 'tanky' from your descriptions and other sources I've looked up. So, I've been considering reaching out to her and Efi."
Nathan craned his head up the instant he heard that. Trying to figure out what the Gorilla was implying from "reaching out".
"And do what?" the Pilot questioned, her face now keen with interest.
"Well, I'm still considering the options," Winston replied, though not sounding completely uncertain. "But, in the best-case scenario, we can hopefully add some more to our ranks."
After that last statement, Nathan instantly rocketed up from the bedding and sat up looking at the command center, ignoring the stinging all over his body. Not liking what he just heard.
"Really, Winston? That sounds awfully prospective of you."
"I know, I know. I'm not taking this lightly, however, but-"
"Like hell you are!" Nathan interrupted, barreling into view of the video chat, almost pushing Lena out of the way.
"Woah, Nathan! What are you doing?!" she expressed concern, looking at him and wondering how he's even able to stand. "We still have to get you back to Angela in one piece!"
Nathan ignored her as he leaned into the video chat, and stared at the surprised Gorilla straight in the eyes. Looking like he was fuming.
"For weeks on end I had to deal with your fuckery!" the Courier began to lay out, pointing an accusatory finger at the screen. "Being sent on missions across your damn world, having near-death experiences practically weekly, going into situations with little to no intel, and having to give up my shit so you can have your little science experiments. And that's only a fraction of the bullshit I've tolerated being here."
Winston just sat there, stunned, as well as the others in the cabin who could hear the argument. Even Lúcio with his headphones noticed something off and looked back at the exchange, his music on pause.
"Mind you, tolerated! I was fine with all the bullshit since you held the key to my prospect of ever going back home. I knew the cards were stacked against me and I had to do what I did. Folding my deck and letting you boss me around like an errand boy. I'm still surprised I haven't lost my mind, the few things keeping me sane in this place probably being the food and some of the people. Excluding you, of course. But even then, I learn this world isn't all 'rainbows and sunshine' despite being spared from a nuclear exchange. Yet, I assumed you would know better about this world. Know what choices to make and the best course of action."
Lena tries to reach out to Nathan, but is intercepted by a metal arm and looks to see Zenyatta holding her still. She regards the Omnic for a moment, before slacking her stance and letting her arm down, looking back at Nathan glaring at the holopad.
"But recruiting a fucking child?!" the Courier finally got to the point, practically spitting on the screen. "What the fuck are you thinking?!"
"Please allow me to explain!" Winston tried to defuse.
"And do what? Justify recruiting a child to your band of mercs?! For what, 'saving the world'? Because from what I've seen, saving the world can apparently involve me shoving six inches of hardened steel into some guy's gullet. Butchering him like a fucking animal. And do you know what happened? The kid that you have plans on conscripting saw me do it."
Winston's expression widened in shock, Lena held her hands to cover her mouth, Lúcio clicked his tongue as he shook his head, and Zenyatta floated, silently watching.
"And can you guess how a little girl who barely looks older than ten would react to seeing a six-foot man in intimidating armor with a knife still dripping with blood? I saw, and it sure as hell wasn't admiration! And I fucking guarantee that making her a child soldier will expose her to worse things than that. I've seen machete-wielding savages commit the same treatment to kids where I'm from. Even if they don't die, chances are they've already been fucked up for good."
The Courier was breathing heavily from that tirade, still staring down the ape through the screen as everyone in the cabin stared at him. Winston stared at the screen, caught by complete surprise, and disturbed by the details the Waster gave him. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Winston brought up a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat, before looking back into the camera with a firm expression. At least displaying that quality of leadership.
"I'll… Take what you've said into consideration," the Scientist stated, his tone not faltering. "I'm sorry to hear about what you had to say. The things you've seen. But I promise that if Oladele were ever to join our ranks in that way, she will be spared from the brunt of it. Despite what you may think, I know how difficult this job can be. We fight so kids like Efi don't have to. Even if it doesn't seem that way. Still, I promise that I won't subject her to that kind of experience if we ever have her visit."
"I'll believe it when I see it," the Courier coldly declared, still staring down the screen regardless of all the pain he felt.
"Noted… I'll see you all when you get back home. Winston signing off."
The video feed cuts to black, the transmission ends, and the occupants just stood there, quiet enough that they could hear the wind rushing around the ship. Then, Nathan slipped and fell to the floor, everyone scrambling to him.
"Jeez, are you all right, man?" Lúcio asked, helping him sit up. "You really gave Winston an earful."
"Yeah," Nathan conceded, grunting as he felt the pain through his body, again, his anger has subsided a little. "How much longer 'till we get to Gibraltar?"
The passengers then felt a sudden change in speed on the aircraft, the sound of the thrusters calming and the effects of turbulence becoming minimal. Lena got up and walked to the window, to see they had arrived at the landing pad.
"Not long, I guess," Lena noted, before turning and going back to Nathan. "Come on, let's get you up."
As the ramp of the Orca aircraft lowered and planted onto the ground, the first people to come out were Nathan, Lena, and Lúcio, the latter two providing support for the gravely wounded man. Thankfully, the three didn't have to go far as there was an approaching floating hospital bed on the concrete, being guided by two staff members. The two staff members were also accompanied by the blonde doctor, who looked upon the wounded form of Nathan in shock.
"Oh mein Gott…" the Swiss Doctor expressed softly, before fixing her posture and directing the staff. "Help him get into the bed. The rest of you report to the infirmary as soon as possible. I want all of you checked and to be in a clean bill of health."
"No, no, it's alright, Ange," Lean declined. "We're all fine. Just some scrapes and bruises, nothing to worry about. You should focus on Brin."
"That wasn't a suggestion, Lena. Do what you must, but I expect to see you in the Medical Wing by the hour. That even includes you, Mr. dos Santos. Welcome to Overwatch, by the way."
With that, the Doctor and her staff carted Nathan away to the Medical Wing, leaving the others at the landing pad. Lena watching them go with hands on her hips and Lúcio standing beside her, scratching his head.
"Huh, I guess Dr. Ziegler really is the no-nonsense woman I've heard about," the newest recruit noted, in a sense of respect.
"Don't worry, she's nice once you get to know her," the agent assured. "Angela's probably been busy, and I doubt seeing Nathan like that made her day any easier."
"Seeing how he was just a few minutes ago, I'm not surprised."
The infirmary of the base wasn't the busiest station on location, which can be somewhat surprising given organization it's meant to be serving. The only reason it's not cramped every day is simply the organization's current size, a fraction of what it once was, but that doesn't detract from the importance it serves to everyone there. In fact, the medical wing is probably one the most important departments on the Watchpoint, by default. Mending wounds and broken limbs, among other things. The other most important facility probably being the cafeteria.
Expectedly, its services will be needed once again as Nathan's wounded body is floated through the entrance before having his cot be stationed at one of the sections in between the green hospital curtains. As the staff who guided the cot there left, Angela went to the bedside and activated the scanner to look over the wounds and injuries he sustained. The new ones, specifically.
"Four broken ribs, a fractured left tibia, broken radius and ulna in your right arm, as well as a fractured right clavicle," the Doctor listed off, looking at the scans with a disheartened but tentative look. "There seems to be no internal bleeding, though. That's good. Bones are easier to fix."
"You can thank the implants and Stims for that," Nathan rasped out, before laying his head back on the puffy cloud of a pillow. "Wished they worked faster for bones, though."
Angela did feel a tinge of humor from that but quickly buried it as she needed to attend to his injuries. She examined the bandages that were wrapped around him, peeling them off slightly to peek at the bruised skin underneath. Shaking her head as her experienced, blue eyes scanned over the patient's body and determined what she would need to do.
"I'm going to the supply room to retrieve what I would need," the Doctor stated, activating the bed's biotic field, and placing a hand on his bandaged shoulder. "Stay here. Okay, Nathan? I promise I won't take long."
"I can't really move, so, take all the time you need, Doctor," the Waster responded, staring up at the ceiling.
Angela smiled at him, but it still twitched with some uncertainty before turning and going off to retrieve the medical supplies she would need. Nathan thought he heard her say something as she walked away, but was too focused on the ceiling and his breathing to decipher what she could've possibly said. The hurt man just laid there, feeling the pain in his chest, leg, and arm, occasionally twitching his fingers to achieve a sensation before the feeling of a dagger shooting up his shoulder makes him wince and stop. He grumbles, his eyes closed, trying to focus on his breathing even if the sharp pain on his left side made him want to stop. Even with the golden glow, it didn't completely stop him from hurting.
'How many times have you been here?' he hears a voice asks him in his head, sounding tired. 'Lying on a bed, bloody and hurtin' all over. How many, Nathan?'
He takes in a deep breath but starts hacking a cough as it started stinging on his left side. The thoughts of pain he experienced in that dream flooding his mind.
'Getting swiped by a big fuckin' Omnic, that's new, but not the broken bones. At least the Doctor said you ain't bleeding inside, right? How many ounces of blood do you think would've filled up your lungs if that was the case? Five? Ten? Fifteen? Do you remember having to drain the fluid from it? How pleasant that experience was?'
The Courier gagged in bed, unpleasant memories bubbling up. Doctor visits from all over. Some of them good, some of them had no idea what they were doing.
'You can't keep doing this. You know that. Why you're even trying is beyond me. They always accredited that to tenacity, determination, resolve. But you? You know the reason, and you despise it. You don't want to acknowledge it, but you know it's there. You're just afraid that when it all comes out when it will all comes crumbling down, you're never going to be able to climb out of it. Claw your way from that grave. You've done it, twice before, but now…'
His eyes were still closed, not even wanting to stare up at the clean, white ceiling and just putting all attention to his breaths as much as he can. Feeling them become unregular and unhinged. Otherwise, the knife in his side will become worse.
'They won't miss you. You're already far away.'
As he just lays there, he could faintly hear shoes tapping against the hard floor and feels someone start laying his hands on him, the feeling of latex inspecting his skin. Wearily, he opens his eyes and looks to see someone hanging over him, but it wasn't Angela. It was a darker skinned woman, long hair, and with glasses over young eyes. Nathan roused from his lethargy upon recognizing who it was.
"A-Aida?" he questioned, croaking her name out.
The student from Oasis was hovering over him, a pair of small scissors in her gloved hand, regarding Nathan and smiling.
"Hi, Mr. Boone," the University student greeted, going back to cutting away at the gauze wrapped around him. "Or should I say 'Mr. Brin'?"
"What are you doing here?"
"Well, after you, Angela, and the others rescued me that day, I tried going back to school. Going back to my classes. You know, like a good student. But this… the nagging feeling in the back of my head made it feel like I wasn't doing anything worthwhile stuck at that University, knowing you guys were out there. The homework, the studying, the reports. It all became tiring and monotonous after that. So, after doing some digging around, I contacted Overwatch and here I am - Dr. Angela Ziegler's assistant… I'm never going to get tired saying that."
"Wait, what about the school? The Ministries? Did they have anything to say about this?"
"I'm sure they do, but given what the current situation over there is and what happened that night… I suppose it's better that I'm here than there."
The older man looked at her, furrowing his brow as he looked down and watched her work on the gauze with those scissors. Cutting away and revealing the discolored skin beneath. She seemed to be doing a decent job at it.
"Are you really sure about that?" Brin questioned further. "It kinda sounds like you left a good chunk of your life behind, kid."
"I wouldn't really think of it like that," the student said, shrugging as she cut another strip of gauze away. "I did reflect on it. for a few days, trying to weigh the consequences my choice would have. The pros and cons. Approach it as empirically as I could, but that nagging feeling… I'm still learning new things by being here. I'm probably doing more good, too, instead of being stuck in that bubble."
"'Bubble?'"
"Oasis, I mean. It's funny, the Ministries always talk about how what they built is the pinnacle of modern society, that their work should be what other should aspire to become. Yet, at the same time, the Ministry of Immigration bars the entry of displaced refugees, citing that they will be a 'resource intensive' burden on the city with space-age technology. Or how the Ministry of Computation introduced another authoritarian bill to undermine Internet use in the city. Not even caring that people have their own private lives they would like to keep themselves and not have their information be 'examined' for research purposes. Turning anyone who uses anything with a microprocessor into a guinea pig."
She paused for a moment, before returning to slicing away at a piece of fiber on his abdomen.
"I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself," she apologized, trying to stay on task. "I really shouldn't bore you with stuff like that, especially politics. Isn't going to make the recovery process faster."
"It's… fine," the Californian assured, looking up at the ceiling. "I have my fair share of gripes with government entities, too."
"I wouldn't be surprised. You are in Overwatch, after all."
"Well, not that, but I just… Do you know what you're committing to, kid?"
"I think I have a good idea. Don't you?"
The assistant looks up from what she's doing, expecting an answer. Nathan could only dart his eyes to her and then back at the ceiling.
"I dunno," he answered truthfully.
Aida opened her mouth to speak up, but stopped herself and went back to removing the rest of the gauze for when Dr. Ziegler comes back to treat him. This went on for another minute or so, in relative silence.
"How... Has she been treating you?" Nathan asked, a small hint of interest in his eyes.
"Great, actually," Aida answered, a big smile on her face. "Angela helped make the transition to moving her much easier than it would've been otherwise. She's a fantastic teacher and I feel very lucky being her assistant. Everyone else I've met here has been nice, too."
That smile somehow became even wider, bearing some pearly whites as she chuckled a bit.
"Winston and Athena have been really nice, Reinhardt is a funny guy, and meeting Dr. Zhou was so cool. Her little robot is so cute! Though... Seeing that Bastion unit with her, alive and operational, was a little unnerving."
"I see... So, no other problems, then?"
"Well, when I met Mr. Lindholm I thought he was a little brash, but Angela told me not to worry about it. Other than that, I can't complain."
She finished that last statement with a final snippet of one last piece of gauze, discarding the discolored fiber into a trash can.
"Well, I think I'm done here," the assistant commented, stepping back, and removing the gloves on her hands. "Angela should be getting back with what she needs. So, you're going to be well cared for. Get better soon, okay?"
"I'll be tryin'," the Courier responds, watching her smile at him before turning around and walking off to attend to other duties.
'In more ways than one…'
He breathed heavily again as his head sunk further into the pillow, the pain not as intense but still enough to cause considerable discomfort if he twitched the wrong way. The Courier tried to focus on the ceiling, but his mind started to do it again. Started to wander. He grumbled as he closed his eyes, trying to think about anything else. Starting to miss the conversation he had with the young student as it was enough to distract his head. Keep its attention locked for a time. Drag his mind to other things for once.
But he started to think about the number of times he had to use the Swiss doctor's services and how he probably wouldn't be still having these visits - all sore and bloody - if it wasn't for her work on his previous visits to the clinic. The Courier owed the kind and friendly Doctor a lot in the short span he's been there. More than most other doctors, probably. How he's going to go about repaying her for all that, he had no idea. It only added to the unease.
"It gets easier," the Courier heard a voice say, to his left.
Opening his eyes, he turns his head and sees in the cot next to him another patient. However, he was in a plain blue uniform, almost like a jumpsuit, with white skin and brown short hair. He stared up at the ceiling as well, his hands interlocked over his stomach. He looked young, younger than Nathan, at least. The man did have some gauze wrapped around his arm, but it didn't look too serious of an injury.
"The pain I mean," he continued, turning his head to address Nathan with a set of brown eyes. "It gets easier the more you get used to it. Lying on the bed helps."
Nathan raised an eyebrow at him, before scoffing and putting his head back on the pillow. He didn't need to be lectured about something while he was in a hospital bed. By someone that looked younger and greener than him, no less. Being in that bed was usually a good lesson in of itself.
"Fully aware of that, pal," the Courier said, rolling his eyes.
"I'm sure you are," the man responds, not sounding offended by Nathan's dismissal. "I'm just saying, I feel like we have to constantly remind ourselves of that. Easy to be forgetful and be lost without it. When we do find it, however, it's a great sense of relief to have."
Nathan turns his head, curious, and looks at the man. Seeing he's staring up at the ceiling again, with his hands still folded over his stomach. He wasn't sure what it was, but he looked familiar.
"I've seen you around here, haven't I?" the Waster questions, analyzing the man.
"I've been around," the jump-suited man shrugs in bed. "Had work all over. Nothing in particular, just something to keep me busy. You?"
"… Same."
"And it's agonizing, isn't it? At least the people here are nice. Better than most places, where things aren't so cut and dry."
Nathan only stared at the man, an eyebrow still raised as he slowly turned his head and lay it back on the pillow. Feeling the cold fabric wrap around his face. After a few minutes, the man in the uniform looked at his watch, and sat up, climbing off the bed and shutting the biotic field off. He started walking off to the exit, passing by Nathan's cot.
"See you 'round," he waved goodbye, a small smile on his face.
"Uh… Bye," the Courier awkwardly exchanged, trying to wave his hand before a sharp pain brought it down.
After stifling that sensation, he looks up and sees the man is gone. Gone to do whatever he was going to. Curious, but the Courier was too tired and sore to care about it.
"Nathan?" his head snaps to attention, looking to see Dr. Ziegler hovering over him, a thin eyebrow raised. "Is everything all right?"
"Other than my ribs, everything's fine," the Waster dryly admitted, a small smirk forming on his face as he huffs in entertainment. "Especially now, with you here, Doc."
Angela's worried expression slowly morphed into a slight smile, somewhat relieved to see his honesty still intact. However, in the back of her mind, she couldn't but help feel there was something off. He had just returned from a mission, dazed, and wounded, and she couldn't just draw conclusions. The Doctor had to approach things one problem at a time.
"Well, if you're sure about that," Dr. Ziegler said, producing some medical supplies and a fresh pair of gloves. "Let's patch you up, shall we?"
