Do you know what the penalty is for strangling a Chief Surgeon? Whatever it is, I'm sure it's worth it.
He's an animal. No, I take that back, I like animals. Animals aren't cruel and calculating, they don't thrive on the suffering of others. Our Chief Surgeon does.
Margaret pulled her cap off and winced as the movement made her neck scream in protest. She took a deep breath and walked slowly to the sink, very careful not to move her head more than necessary.
Looking down at the operating table for such a long time had been absolute murder on her sore muscles, but she was sure she had managed to hide it. Almost sure. It had been two days; it should get better soon. She hadn't even felt anything until the day after, maybe a slight twinge when she went to bed, but in the morning the pain had been sharp and angry. It would be fine, though, she must have just pulled something when he pushed her down. When she tried to push him away.
She opened the tabs and let the hot water run over her hands. Stood still for a while, the warmth against her skin was so soothing, it felt almost hypnotic. She hoped it would spread up to her neck.
She thought of the tube of balm she had in her tent, she should put some on, it would feel warm and soothing too. But it had camphor and menthol in it and was way too fragrant. She didn't want anyone to ask questions. Hot towels would have to do, and as soon as she got back to her tent, she would…
"Well, well, well, hello there, Lady Macbeth. Alone at last."
The voice made her jump and turn her head too fast. The pain was sharp and furious, shooting down her spine and up over her scalp. She winced again.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Pierce walked up to her. Of course it was him, there was no way for her to be alone for two minutes, and of course he noticed everything, his nickname so well earned.
"I'm fine, Pierce."
She turned back to the sink. Very carefully, making sure her head was still as her neck kept screaming at her.
"You wanna try that again, Margaret? You don't usually contort your face like that unless you're very, very angry. Or ecstatic, possibly, but sadly - I wouldn't know anything about that."
She glanced up at him, giving him the evil eye without turning her head.
"Or can it possibly be a grimace of pain?" he continued.
"There is nothing wrong with me. I just slept weirdly and now my neck hurts a little, that's all. Okay?"
"Really? Can I see it?"
Without waiting he moved in behind her, pushed her hair out of the way, and let his fingers run over the base of her neck.
"No, you cannot."
She tried to move away but was caught between him and the sink.
"Well, I'm seeing it right now. Hello Neck, I'm Doctor Pierce, I will be feeling you up this afternoon."
His fingers were soft, and they trod lightly over her skin.
"I told you, I just slept on it weirdly. My pillow is too fat."
He gasped in mocked surprise.
"Really, Major, are you slandering the thickness of this proud army's pillows?"
His sarcastic voice. How she hated it. Then his tone changed again, and it became even worse. Sincere.
"Are you sure this has nothing to do with what happened the other day?"
She tensed.
"I have been meaning to check in on you," he continued. "That whole thing with Stosh the other day, it was just a misunderstanding."
She turned the tap off and waited.
"It was stupid, he wasn't too keen on coming here, but it was important he did, so I told him there was a nurse waiting to see him and he assumed it was you. It was an honest mistake."
"What?"
She turned to face him, shoving his hands away from her neck.
"No, it was stupid, I needed a favor and I told him if he came, he would have a date waiting for him, and…"
"What? What are you saying?" she interrupted. "You wanted your friend to come so you told him I would date him?"
"No, just that there was someone here eager to make his acquaintance, and he just assumed the rest."
"He assumed it was me because I said hello to him? What are you doing, offering up the nursing staff as bait for your friends?"
Anger rose up inside of her when she realized what he was saying. She could feel it spread from the pit of her stomach to the skin of her face. It felt crimson. Yes, of course it was some sort of setup, some big scheme. Everyone running around with those bandages over their noses, everyone in on it except for her. The butt of the joke. The bait. The casualty.
"Just calm down, it wasn't like that."
He held his hands up in front of him, trying to calm her down, like she didn't have the right to react, like she needed to be reined in. That made the crimson cloud of anger explode.
"Of course it was, it was exactly like that. We are nothing but pawns in the hands of the Great Doctor Pierce, are we? The great joker, just such a whacky guy, always up to some shenanigans. As long as he gets his way the rest of us just have to brace ourselves and hope not to get caught in the maelstrom he leaves behind."
"Margaret, I told you, it wasn't planned, I didn't think he would do anything like that. When I walked in and saw the two of you, I was just as surprised as you were."
How she wanted to punch him in the face. Any consequences must be worth it. To feel his bones against her knuckles, to watch him keel over. It would be an image she took to her grave, a memory for special occasions. And yet, she controlled herself, kept her fist at her side.
"You were as surprised? Oh, yes, I can see how it must have been so very painful for you to witness that whole thing; it must have put a serious damper on whatever plan you were trying to carry out. Such an inconvenience. Maybe you should talk to someone about it, get some help. To witness it must have been so much worse than living it."
He shook his head.
"Believe it or not, it was just a misunderstanding, and I have been meaning to check in on you. Now let me see your neck, maybe we should get some X-rays and make sure…"
He reached out for her again, and she shoved his hands away once again, more forceful this time, ignoring the yelp of pain that ran through her once more.
"No, you will not check my neck, you will not touch me. You can't always have things your way. You walked into that room, you saw what he was trying to do, and you let it go. Because you didn't mean for it to happen, well that's all that matters, right? That you didn't mean it. You just had a great big plan that needed to be played out. The supply room was nothing but an inconvenience. Just your friend trying to get a 'date'."
She made sure the last word dripped with venom.
"It was nothing. So no, you can't touch my neck. You didn't mean for it to happen, and that's what's important to you. I should have known better than to be in his general presence, all my fault, right? Nothing that needed to be dealt with so nothing can be wrong."
She set her jaw firm and stared up at him, ignoring the new jab of pain. She practically had the jowls of a goddess; didn't he know that? It needed to be respected. Feared, preferably. She made her eyes cold to match.
"Now will you please get out of my way, Captain, I don't have time for this."
His face hung slack for a moment, in true surprise. He looked quite unintelligent and that pleased her tremendously. That's right, Doctor, sometimes the prey fights back. Then he arranged his features and straightened up. He pulled his arm up in a mockery of a salute.
"Sir, yes, Sir!"
She couldn't even stand to look at him when she pushed past him and out the door.
Her breath felt very shallow, and she trembled a little as she walked away. God, she hated him, he would stop at nothing. Just dangle her in front of that pervert, knowing full well what might happen. Nothing he wouldn't stoop to; nothing was off limits for that low-life degenerate.
Her throat made a sad, whining sound as she drew in air. Pathetic. She would not waste her breath on him, he was not worth an ounce of her energy.
She needed a distraction. Where was Frank? Suddenly she longed for him fiercely, her whole body screamed for someone who would understand, whose hate for Pierce burned bright and crimson too. Frank could massage her neck. Just hold her for a while. Yes, that's what she needed, to lean against him for a little bit, to be with someone she could control.
Frank's arms were not very big and strong, but they were protection. And he smelled a bit like her father, the combination of after shave and talcum powder was so familiar. Margaret could remember being a little girl, sneaking into her father's closet and pressing his shirts to her face. The scent lingering on them always made her feel safe, it was always a comfort. Frank's embrace would do the same thing, she could just close her eyes and be safe for a little while.
She needed to know that not everything, everyone, in this world had claws, not everyone was out to hurt and use. In some games she was not the pawn. She was the queen.