Heads up:
This one has some heavy topics centred around what they want done in case they are replicated and includes mention of Do Not Resuscitate orders. A DNR is basically someone stating in advance under what circumstances they want to have CPR and an AED used on them and resuscitation attempted, and under what circumstances they want to be allowed to die.
One thought on his mind as interrupted connections resumed, he fought his way back to consciousness.
Awareness returned in a rush and Paul bolted upright with a sharp gasp, the memories of blood-stained blue suede fresh in his mind. “Adam!” he called out, frantically looking around the dimmed room for his partner.
“You are on Cloudbase. Captain Blue is in recovery and Doctor Fawn is with him,” Nurse Kirimiko soothed, standing well back from the bed until she was sure he was fully awake and alert. “He took a few injuries that required surgery. He’s still intubated and under sedation, but the prognosis is good,” she explained as she approached.
Scarlet closed his eyes in relief and sagged back against the head of the bed. “Thank you, Kirimiko,” he offered his wrist for her to check his pulse, knowing the routine well enough to almost do it in his sleep. “Sorry if I scared you.”
“It’s okay, Captain. I figured you’d be disoriented.” She smiled at him. The willowy Japanese nurse was one of Harmony’s favourite judo sparring partners and a preferred candidate for ‘groggy and/or potentially distressed Scarlet’ duty, since she had the reflexes for it. Aikido was good for things like that. “How are you feeling?” she asked, as she updated his chart.
“About usual. Thirsty more than hungry though. I think Fawn’s idea of a glucose IV is working.” Scarlet nodded to the IV plugged into his left arm, shifted and winced as his clothing dragged against the large patches of new skin on his back. “Burns again?” he asked, accepting the glass of water she gave him.
“No, shrapnel this time,” Kirimiko told him, flicking to the injury diagram in his chart to show him. “It opened up your back and you bled out shortly before Grey and Ochre arrived at the munitions plant. If you hadn’t wrapped your vest around Blue’s legs and protected the rest of him with your body before the bomb went off, it could have been a very different outcome for him.”
“Fifty seven fragments.” Scarlet looked through his chart and whistled softly as he read the notes. “I think I owe Doctor Burgundy a box of chocolate for pulling all of that out of me,” he said as he handed it back to her. “When can I see Blue?”
“Soon.” Kirimiko pulled a fresh uniform from the cupboard and set it on the end of the bed for him. Medical had prudently started keeping a set of clothing for each of the captains once they realised exactly how often they’d be coming in. “Doctor Fawn said he’ll be over to see you as soon as he’s sure Blue is settled and stable,” she went on. “In the meantime you can get dressed, and Doctor Cinnabar was saying he wanted to speak to you too.”
“Understood.” Paul hid his grimace at that. Cinnabar was not one of his favourite people in Medical, not after Fawn had realised some of the psychologist’s questions were more about what journals he could publish in rather than assessing the wellbeing of his patient. Until recently, he’d been able to get away with shifting his mandatory visits over to Pastor Juniper, but Cinnabar had thrown some weight around last month, and insisted that as he had overall responsibility for everyone’s mental health and wellbeing and Juniper didn’t report to him, Scarlet had to have sessions with him again.
Paul was eternally grateful that in response, the CMO had appointed himself chaperone for all foreseeable appointments he had with Cinnabar; it had put a hold on some of the more irritating questions. Unfortunately, Paul still had to play nicely with the base psychologist until a replacement was found, to paraphrase Fawn’s explanation of the situation. Cinnabar hadn’t done anything egregious enough to get fired yet, so he still had his authority and could pull him from active duty if he deemed it necessary. Getting stonewalled by a recalcitrant Scarlet was one of those things that could deem it necessary.
Knowing Kirimiko had nothing to do with it, Paul kept his grumbles about the entire state of affairs to himself. There was no point whining about it and burdening her with the problem too.
Kirimiko bustled about and did all the things she had to do, including removing the glucose drip that Fawn was trialling in an effort to keep his post-retrometabolic hunger satiated, then advised him she would go and fetch the CMO, closing the door as she left. Paul shrugged out of his hospital clothes with some measure of relief and got into his uniform, making a mental note to book some time in the hydrotherapy bath to help his new skin to calibrate, since it was too late for any sunbathing. He’d just finger-combed his hair back into a semblance of order when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Scarlet called, tossing his hospital clothes into the dirty linen bag and taking a seat on the bed.
Doctor Fawn came in. “Good to see you up and about, Scarlet,” he said, flicking a glance over the British officer and then at the chart he held. “Any issues?”
“No, nothing to report. The IV seems to help: I’m hungry but not famished,” Scarlet reported dutifully. “How’s Adam? Kirimiko said you had to operate?”
“Yes, that ricochet nicked his brachial artery in his right arm. Good job with the bandage you improvised there; it might have been a different story without it,” Fawn told him as he checked the last readings from the auto-nurse. “When he fell off the gantry after getting hit, he knocked his head on the way down. There’s some damage from that and his landing on the packing crate that I’m being careful about, but Kirimiko told you he’s got a good prognosis, right?”
“Yes she did.” Paul nodded. “Can I see him yet?”
“Soon,” Fawn promised. “We just need to get the debrief with Cinnabar out of the way first. Oh, and the colonel left a message that he expects your report one hour after your medical stand down finishes.”
“S.I.G.” Scarlet nodded as he finished off the last of the water in the jug.
There was a confident tap at the door and Cinnabar let himself in at Scarlet’s call of ‘Come in.’ Fawn nodded to the psychologist and posted himself by the door to give an illusion of privacy to the conversation.
“Well, Captain.” Cinnabar pulled up a chair and laid Scarlet’s psych file across his knees. Wasting no time on small talk, he got right to business. “Quite an exciting morning for you – a short deadline threat, a gun battle across a munitions plant, your partner shot and bombs waiting for the both of you.”
Something about the way he said ‘exciting’ instantly had Paul’s guard up. “Yes, though I wouldn’t use that word myself,” he responded carefully.
“No? What word would you use? Busy, exhilarating, typical, hectic?” Cinnabar asked, jotting down a note.
“Intense. Dangerous. Worrying. Concerning, since Blue is in Medical as well, not just me this time,” he answered, glancing up at Fawn who was frowning in concern. What was Cinnabar leading up to?
“Those are all good descriptors of today, yes.” The psychologist nodded. “Speaking of dangerous, I overheard the nurses saying they had to free up Kirimiko to watch over you because she can ‘handle’ you if you revive without Captain Blue or one of your other regular companions present and, uh, ‘freak out’, was the term used.” He looked at Scarlet with a mien of professional concern. “Doesn’t that worry you? That you are considered a danger to the medical staff?”
“I am dangerous, Doctor,” Scarlet firmly reminded him. “That’s the point of being who and what I am trained to be. An automatic defensive reaction on an unexpected or unusual waking is a well documented phenomenon in high level martial artists and special forces. Medical are aware of it and have a safety plan in place for every person who needs it, not just me.”
“I see, I see,” Cinnabar mused and made another note as he changed the subject. “I hear that you ‘threw yourself headlong into things’ today, as the plant foreman described it, and that you ran into the building after the Mysteron agent and didn’t wait for backup.”
“If we had waited, the whole plant would have gone up and taken the neighbourhood with it. There was no way the surrounding area could be evacuated in time,” Scarlet explained, rather proud of the amount of patience he was using while his tactical assessment was being questioned by someone without a shred of fieldwork. “We had a plan – I drew the Mysteron’s fire, while Blue disarmed the bombs – and it worked until an unlucky ricochet clipped Blue before he could get to the last one, and he fell off the catwalk. He landed in an awkward spot on a packing crate, and there was no way I could get him out of range before the last bomb went off, so I protected him instead.” Scarlet kept his tone even, despite his temper starting to flare at the implied criticism. What was Cinnabar trying to insinuate?
“Surely there could have been a better way other than offering yourself up to be a target. Some might call this reckless behaviour. Perhaps even self-destructive, the way you are constantly running in ahead of others and deliberately putting yourself in harm’s way,” Cinnabar observed, green eyes narrowed as he assessed the captain’s reactions. “The behaviours in your file are understandable and manageable, but when one person’s heroic actions require putting others at risk, can they continue to be ignored?”
Scarlet’s expression went flat at the not-so-veiled accusation.
Fawn had known Scarlet long enough to see the danger signs of his fuse burning out and tried to wave Cinnabar off, but either the psychologist didn’t see him or ignored him.
“So why do you feel the need to dive in so recklessly and put yourself in the line of fire? This time quite literally,” Cinnabar repeated the question. “It’s become quite a pattern of behaviour for you to seek the front and centre role, even when, in retrospect, it isn’t even necessary.”
That was the last straw.
All the built up irritation at the little observations and comments over the past year and a half suddenly burst out like a dam breaking as Paul quite simply had enough.
“You want to know why I keep doing it?!” Scarlet stood and roared out the question, looming over the psychologist with his full height. “No matter what you seem to think, I don’t do this out of masochistic tendencies or glory-hound attention seeking! Even though I get up afterwards, IT. STILL. HURTS. I put myself in the way for one reason – if I die, it means one of my friends doesn’t. And if they did… if they die and the Mysterons do to them what they did to me and Brown...” Scarlet paused for a long moment, his narrowed eyes like chips of ice, “...If I had to finish them off...I don’t know if I could survive that.”
Scarlet set his ‘cap on his head and firmly removed his file from Cinnabar’s hands. “We are done here, Doctor,” he growled out the words and stalked out of the room, handing his file to Fawn as he left.
No one tried to intercept him.
He stopped off in his quarters long enough to change and made for the pool. Right now, he needed solitude and physical exertion to get rid of the last of the anger. Though not his first choice, the swimming pool would probably be empty at this hour. It would do.
As he’d hoped, no one was there when he got to the pool. He tossed his towel over a bench, stripped down to his trunks and made for the swimming lanes.
Lining himself up on the starting block, Paul arched his body and dove in, splitting the water cleanly. He started with free-style, getting out the worst of his anger first. Five laps of that and he felt calm enough to switch to the butterfly – physically punishing and technically challenging, you needed the timing to be just right or you’d be floundering. Five laps later and he felt a comfortable level of burn of muscles protesting the level of use. On the next lap, he rolled over and used the backstroke as his warm down for three laps, before swimming over to the ladder and hauling himself out.
Feeling much more settled, he wiped the worst of the water out of his hair and face with his hands and went looking for his towel, his next moves planned out. He’d visit Adam, apologise to Fawn and make an appointment to call Pastor Juniper while he waited for Dianne to come off duty.
But to Paul’s surprise, he found Colonel White was waiting for him, sitting on one of the benches with two bottles of orange juice. “Sir?” He asked with some measure of uncertainty, startled to see the CIC not only here but also in civvies – a pale grey shirt, tan trousers and sandshoes. The colonel rarely ventured out in anything but his uniform.
“Come and have a seat, Scarlet,” White invited, offering one of the bottles.
“Uh, yes, sir.” Paul dried himself off, put the towel down on the bench and sat on it, taking the juice and drinking half of it in a couple of gulps. “Doctor Fawn contacted you?” he hazarded a guess.
“Yes, just as Doctor Cinnabar did,” White remarked, opening his bottle and taking a sip. “Cinnabar was somewhat frightened of you, while Fawn was frightened for you. We had quite the debate in Fawn’s office.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Scarlet grimaced. He hadn’t intended that, but his temper still got the better of him more times than he liked to admit.
“From what Fawn has told me, I’m surprised this hasn’t happened sooner,” was the older man’s reply, not missing it when the younger man gave him a quizzical look. “Cinnabar’s questions would have vexed anyone,” White went on. “That he persisted in the face of your agitation was quite the error on his part. He tried to tell me that you needed to be taken off duty with depression, self harm and anger issues, but Fawn pulled rank on him and gave him what for.” A smile tugged at White’s lips at the memory. “You would have liked to see it, I think. I was impressed. Doctor Fawn picks his battles well.”
“You’re right, sir, I would have liked to see it,” Paul replied with a half-smile and took another swig of the juice.
“Before you ask, you’re still on the roster and just on the usual 24 hour medical stand down,” Colonel White explained. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
Paul squared his shoulders, putting himself back into ‘officer mode’, and looked at his commander. “Sir?”
“It was a close call today, wasn’t it?” White asked quietly, not looking at his subordinate but instead staring at the far wall, his hands clasped around the juice bottle and elbows on his knees. “From the reports, if you hadn’t protected Blue, he could have been fatally injured.”
“Yes, sir.” Scarlet was just as quiet as he bared part of his soul, looking at the tiled floor and absently rolling the bottle between his palms. “I just hope Blue wasn’t conscious when the blast went off. Dealing with the aftermath of something fatal is easier for him than seeing the moment of it.” Scarlet glanced at his commander and decided he probably should know. “Seeing me ‘drop’ reminds him of the Car-Vu,” Paul explained, making sure his voice wouldn’t carry. “Blue still has the occasional nightmare about the time he shot me.”
“The time he shot the Mysteron masquerading as you,” White firmly corrected, looking at him with a glance that almost dared to be questioned. “You owe nothing for the actions someone else perpetrated while pretending to be you.”
“Yes, sir.”
White noted that his subordinate wasn’t sounding entirely convinced, but that was a point for another time and for someone not Cinnabar to unravel with Scarlet. Blue as well, for that matter. “It was your last comment to Cinnabar that had me down here,” he went on. “You missed your calling as a drill sergeant, Scarlet. Half of Medical heard you, as did Grey and Ochre who were in to visit you and Blue. From what I gather, they got Magenta, Green and the off-duty Angels up and are having a crisis meeting in the Amber Room right now.”
“Oh no,” Scarlet groaned in dismay. “I didn’t mean to scare them, Colonel.”
“Meant to or not, all you did was bring to the surface something that has been lurking on everyone’s minds for quite some time now,” White pointed out, in what was for him a gentle manner. “Before you worry about the lot of them descending on you for an intervention or something, Fawn is in there with them, to keep things from getting out of hand. I would suggest you make an appearance there soon. While they are concerned about the possibility of that happening, they are mostly worried about you.”
“Understood, Colonel.” Scarlet finished off the last of the juice. “Thank you for coming to talk to me. I needed that.”
“You’re welcome, Scarlet.”
0o0o0
The atmosphere in the Amber Room was an intersection between tense, stressed and grim, as Grey and Ochre described the blistering remonstrance they’d overheard.
“I’ve always known I could die on the job, but getting replicated?” Grey shuddered at the thought. “I’ll be the first to admit I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“And having to finish someone off…” Rhapsody paused, searching for the words to make it more palatable. “When Indigo... when it happened to him, Paul...took care of things... but it hit him hard afterwards.”
There was a round of nods at that. Scarlet had managed to keep up the jovial air long enough for dinner to wrap up, so as to not scare the assembled notables, remained professional until he was dismissed by the Old Man back on Cloudbase, and quite simply vanished. He’d barely shown his face for a good three days afterwards, showing up for duty and nothing else.
“I don’t know if I could do it.” That was Green, poised by the coffee maker as it hissed and steamed. He’d needed to do something, so had volunteered to make coffees for the group. “A stranger is one thing, but someone that I know… it’s a different story altogether.”
“Yes.” Melody looked grim, surveying the room from where she was sitting beside Symphony. “I get what you mean.”
Karen nodded her own agreement, her usual verbosity stolen by both the late hour and her worry over Adam. Harmony simply surveyed the room from her position on Karen’s other side, keeping her thoughts to herself for now.
“It’s a complicated issue, that’s for sure,” Fawn agreed. “And one that I’d encourage you to talk about and talk out with people you trust.”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Ochre revealed, looking about the room. “I’ve got an idea for something that might help a little.”
“Go on.” Fawn nodded, ceding the floor to him.
“So… what I was thinking was some sort of pact or something,” Rick offered the idea up to them, turning his RadioCap in his hands in a nervous gesture. “A pre-existing permission from me to all of you that if that happens to me, just do it. Pull the trigger – no hesitation, no condemnation. Let what’s left of me rest in peace, okay? It’s what I want.”
“Like a Do Not Resuscitate order or an Advance Directive?” Fawn suggested, smiling his thanks as Green passed him a mug of coffee. “It’s a good idea, a very good idea.”
“I like that,” Green spoke up as he handed out more coffees, nodding in approval. “I agree. It’s not going to be me, so stop it before it can hurt anyone.”
“What if there’s a chance of coming back, y’know, like Paul did?” Melody ventured, looking to Fawn.
The doctor sighed and shook his head. “Believe me, while I’d love the answer to be as simple as shoot a replicant in the chest, throw them off the nearest high point and hope for the best, I haven’t seen any evidence that Scarlet’s experience is anything but a fluke.”
Dianne chimed in softly. “I don’t think we should risk it.” She shook her head. “We’ve never seen anyone else come back. I wouldn’t want any of you getting hurt trying to reset the replicant if it was me.”
“Resetting is a good term for it,” Fawn mused, looking thoughtful. “I’ve been working on some theories to maybe get someone back, but testing them is another matter.”
“But getting back on track,” Grey cut in before the conversation could get any further sidetracked, “does everyone agree on the idea of having a pact like that?”
A round of nods answered him.
“We’ll have to talk to the others about it later, and the colonel, but I think they’ll agree,” Brad went on. “The question now is how do we talk to Paul about all this?”
“Yeah.” Magenta pulled a face. “Usually we could ask Adam. He knows the guy the best, but he’s out cold still. Any idea on when he’s going to wake up, Doc?” he asked, looking to the CMO.
“Not for at least a few more hours,” Fawn replied after checking his watch. “He lost a lot of blood and took a serious crack on the head. There’s no brain swelling, otherwise I would be there instead of here, but I want him under sedation to give him time to heal before trying to wake him up and wean him off the intubation. The crisis period is over,” he added quickly, glancing at Karen as Melody put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “And the best thing for him right now is rest.”
“That’s good to know, Doctor,” a new voice broke in.
Paul stood just inside the door, dressed in his favourite rugby jersey and casual jeans, looking unusually uncertain as he surveyed the crowd. “May I come in?” he asked.
“Yes, come in,” Grey spoke for them all, shuffling over to make room for him on the circular couch. “We were just about to try to find you.”
“Colonel White told me you were all here,” Paul said as he sat down between Grey and Rhapsody. “I’m sorry about my earlier outburst, Doctor,” he apologised to Fawn. “And for worrying all of you,” he added, looking around at the group.
A round of reassurances answered him and he smiled faintly. Rhapsody slipped a hand into his and squeezed it gently.
“Don’t worry about Cinnabar,” Fawn told him. “He crossed a line today and will be on the morning shuttle tomorrow. We’re looking for a replacement, but experienced psychologists who can get the security clearance and are willing to move to Cloudbase aren’t as common as I’d like.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Paul visibly relaxed, knowing he wasn’t going to have to endure Cinnabar’s presence again.
“We should probably get to the elephant in the room,” Rick jumped in, not unkindly. “Look, we all know that the threat of the Mysterons doing that to one of us… It’s real and it’s there. We’ve talked, and we’ve come up with a pact. If it happens to one of us, we’re giving each other permission and approval in advance to do what has to be done. Doc said it would be like a Do Not Resuscitate order, so there’s no guilt or anything. It’s what we want to happen, y’know?”
Paul nodded slowly. “Yes...that makes sense...” he said, absently running his thumb over Dianne’s hand to comfort himself as much as her. Paul looked as if he was going to say something else, paused, and tried again. “If...if it comes to that... I’ll honour it.”
Doctor Fawn then stood and asserted himself as Cloudbase CMO. “I don’t recommend making any decisions about it now, but when you make them, I’ll make sure that your requests,” Fawn swept his glance across the group, “are recorded and respected. I’ll leave you to tell your colleagues who are not present about the pact, but I’ll update Colonel White about it in the morning, and get it formalised as part of the standard files. Tell anyone who wants to join it to advise me and I’ll ensure it’s updated in their records.”
His eyes softened and he looked over the group again. “It’s late,” he told them. “This conversation’s been a stressful one, but a good and needed one. Now’s the time to take a break, sleep on things and, if you need to, continue to talk about this later,” Fawn instructed, his medical mask slipping just a bit as he added with a faint encouraging smile. “If you’re not on duty, go to bed, all of you. Doctor’s orders.”
0o0o0
The meeting broken up and the others dispersed to their rooms or their posts, Scarlet slowly made his way into Sickbay. Karen had already been and gone by the time he arrived – he’d deliberately waited to make sure she got some time with her boyfriend before he visited. Rather than disturb the nurses, he checked the board at the nurse’s station to see where they’d put Adam and was rather glad it was one of the smaller rooms.
He quietly slipped into Adam’s dimly lit room, first taking a moment to peer at the readouts on the robot nurse. He could interpret enough from the data to see Adam was still unconscious, but all the other numbers looked good under the circumstances. The crowded IV pole still held a bag of blood amongst all the other bags of fluid, and he still had an intubation tube down his throat to control his breathing, but under the bandages, Adam’s colour was good and his face was relaxed. They had him lying slightly sitting up, his injured arm carefully cradled with pillows to protect the healing wound.
Scarlet pulled a chair over and sat on it backwards to spare his still sensitive skin, arms crossed over the backrest and chin resting atop them as he gathered his courage to speak. “Ah, so, I really put the cat amongst the pigeons today,” Paul started, watching Adam’s face for any twitch of acknowledgement. “You probably would have heard it, if Ochre and Magenta did. Long story short, they rousted everyone else out of bed and had a crisis meeting in the Amber Room. Rick came up with a pact. Basically, if any of them bite it and the Mysterons get them, they’re issuing permission in advance to finish them off. I can’t tell you how much of a weight off my shoulders it is; the decision to do it has been taken out of my hands; I’d just be doing what they want.”
Paul sighed, shifting to rest his head in
his hands, elbows on the back of the chair. “But that being said, I’m the
biggest coward in the world,” he confessed. “I had the perfect opportunity to
ask them… but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t ask it of them. And now, here I am,
pouring everything out to my best friend, but only because he can’t hear me.”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Fawn quietly asked from his post at the door. “It was pretty clear at the meeting something else was bugging you.”
Scarlet flinched in surprise and sat up; he hadn’t even heard the door open. “I, uh… what do you mean?” he tried to bluff.
Fawn quirked an eyebrow at him, came into the room and dragged over a spare chair, taking a seat. “I’m your doctor, Paul. I’d be a pretty poor one if I couldn’t tell something was getting under your skin. And I’d like to think I know you well enough to tell when you’re off balance,” Edward replied calmly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
“It’s not pleasant,” Scarlet warned him.
“ ‘Not pleasant’ was last week when I was up to my elbows in the remains of your abdominal cavity digging out a bullet that got lodged behind your eighth rib,” Fawn reminded him. “I think I can handle whatever is bothering you, and you clearly need to talk about it.”
Scarlet pulled a face; the doctor had a good point there.
For his part, Fawn just waited as Paul gathered the words he wanted to use and the courage he needed to use them.
“When the others were talking about the pact, I wanted to bring something up but I couldn’t,” Scarlet finally began. “It didn’t feel right, or it didn’t feel like I could ask it of them, I’m not sure which. I want to be included in the pact. If the Mysterons take me back… I don’t want them to try and save me; I want them to stop me before I do something terrible.” He nodded towards Adam. “But I don’t want him to be the one to do it. Adam’s been through too much on my behalf, I don’t want that added to it.”
“There may not be a choice about that, Paul,” Fawn told him gently. “If that happens, it’s going to be all hands on deck, whoever’s there is going to be saddled with it.”
“I know, I know.” Paul sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling just so worn from it all – the stress, the waiting for the ominous words pouring from the tannoy of ‘This is the voice of the Mysterons…’, the mad scramble as they fought for their place under the sun for just a little longer, the fear and worry on the mission, and every now and again the bitterness of failure. Even their victories tasted like ashes sometimes, with the knowledge that good or talented people who could have helped humanity in so many ways had been murdered to be resurrected into weapons. He could see it in the faces of the other captains too: the grey hairs starting to spring up, the deepening lines in brows and around eyes. Even if the Mysterons didn’t get them, they were being eroded away bit by bit. That they had to make plans like this pact in the first place was yet another piece taken out of them. “I’m tired of it all, Doctor. Just so damned tired,” he admitted quietly.
“What you are is mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted, hungry and in dire need of a chance to rest and recharge,” Fawn replied, his tone calm and even. “You’ve had what… three or four emotionally intensive conversations today? All of this on top of a threat, seeing your best friend get badly hurt, and going through a recovery yourself. It’s perfectly natural that you’re going through a low right now. You’re tapped out.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Paul said noncommittally, doing his best to hide his surprise at how intuitive the doctor was.
“I’d say that I am,” Fawn replied, sitting up and his tone changing to ‘Doctor giving orders’ mode as he pointed to the second bed. “Go to the canteen, get a high protein snack, then sleep here tonight. Knowing you, you won’t settle until you know Adam’s going to be okay, and keeping an eye on him will be the next best thing. Here’s the plan: I’ll start waking him first thing tomorrow. Once he’s awake, you’ll have a video-call with Juniper, then in the afternoon, go home to Winchester, or somewhere else you can relax. I’m putting you on a three day medical leave, starting when your medical stand down runs out. I’ll send Adam on one too, once his stitches come out and his head scans are clear.”
“The other captains?” Paul asked. “What about them?”
“I’ll cycle them through as well, and talk to the colonel about increasing everyone’s leave. You’re all needing a break,” Fawn promised. “He’s a good commanding officer, but there’s a lot you all go through that he doesn’t always appreciate. Sure, he gets the reports, but you captains have to live through it first.”
Paul nodded. “You’re right about that,” he said as he uncurled himself from the chair. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome.”