The horror must have shown on his face, as General Winter continued quickly. “But, I rather thought that was a waste of someone with both your talent and expertise.”
Oscar snorted, looking down at his right arm. “No offense, sir, but there’s not much I can do with that talent.”
“Oh? You’re saying that after nine years in the field, both as infantry and as a man in charge, you didn’t pick up a great deal of knowledge you could pass on? Nothing at all?”
Oscar blinked, looking up. “Sir?”
“I’ll level with you, Staff Sergeant. I didn’t bring you here purely out of the goodness of my heart or some sense of charity. Here at Fort Dale, I get a great many types of people, generally those who are transitioning from one place to another. I have a team on base at the moment who are attempting to integrate a new member, and once they have, to my satisfaction, they’ll be back in the field. I have a great many soldiers here who stay for a while, learn what they need to, rest up while they have to, whatever it is, and then they go on their way. Many of those soldiers could use the knowledge you’ve gathered over the years, and considering your exceptional service record, I believe you stand a good chance of not only maintaining your career but going further than you might have before.”
Oscar sat in silence once the general was done, weighing up everything the older man was saying. It was an enticing idea, sounding as though he would be put in charge of training soldiers and instilling his knowledge. It was an enviable position for many, and while Oscar wouldn’t have been too thrilled before losing his arm, it was far better than any other desk job he might have been tossed into, and with enough time, he could find himself with his own office.
“No offense, sir, but I’m sensing a ‘but’ somewhere in that explanation,” Oscar said.
Winter let out a slow breath, his nostrils flaring. “You would be correct. Currently, the position is occupied.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Because once matters have settled, the position will become a vacancy.”
Oscar raised his brow, waiting to see if there was more, and wasn’t surprised when nothing else was tacked on to the end. He might have been a soldier, but he wasn’t blind or ignorant of the politics that went on all around him. Oscar’s focus had always been on his men and on the job, content to keep his head down and make the best of whatever shit rolled down his hill.
And now he was being thrown right into it. Great.
Oscar decided to steer the conversation toward safer ground. “Yes, sir. But that still doesn’t tell me why I’m here now.”
“You’re here now because there’s no point in you wasting away at home, or your family’s home for that matter. While we’re waiting for the vacancy to open up, I can more than easily find something for you to do around here. For the moment, I’m sure you can help out here in the office.”
“Pure desk work,” Oscar said, trying to keep the distaste out of his voice.
General Winter chuckled. “You’ll get used to it, and it’s a perfectly good place to be if you’re going to learn how things work around here. It’ll give you a feel for working Stateside, we’re a little less chaotic here.”
“Not sure I know what to do without a bit of chaos,” Oscar admitted.
“You’ll find plenty. As much as we in the military like to make a big fuss about regimen and order, we’re still people, and chaos follows in our wake. Perhaps by working at the center of it, you’ll have a better idea of what you’ll need to do once I can put you in your proper chair.”
Oscar let out a low, drawn-out breath, and nodded. “Yes, sir. When do I begin?”
“You can start in a few days, give you a chance to look around first, and rest after moving across the country.”
“Yes, sir,” Oscar said, sensing the end of the meeting.
“Ah, right, and just as a formality, do me a favor and report to the clinic we have on base as well. I require any and all newcomers to go in for a check-up, no matter how recent their last examination was.”
“Yes, sir.”
2
Troy
Troy hummed to himself as he spun his keys around one finger with a mindless flick. He peered over the checklist on the desk in front of him, pausing his spinning long enough to mark another item on the list as done. Lists weren’t really Troy’s thing, but if he didn’t keep it up to date, he’d end up hearing about it. Then again, after a few months of working in the clinic, he’d grown more fond of lists, even though he mocked the military for their obsession with the things.
Still, the clinic had become his home, more so than his apartment. Troy had only been at Fort Dale a few months, and most of that time, he’d been working in the usually quiet clinic. It beat having to work out of a camp in the middle of nowhere, where most working conditions involved a canvas tent and whatever supplies just happened to be sent your way. Troy would take having to sweep the clean tiles and keep inventory over scraping by with what little there was to go around, any day.
The walls around him creaked, and he heard the curtains separating the examination rooms swish together, signifying a pressure shift. Troy grunted, pushing himself back from the desk and standing up.
“Hello?” came a voice, calling down the hallway to the office where Troy stood.
“One minute,” Troy called.
He bent down to grab the tablet he used for just about everything when it came to working in the clinic. Troy knew it wasn’t feasible to use it for everything, but he absolutely loved the sheer amount of technology installed at Fort Dale. The man in charge of the base, General Winter, was not afraid to integrate the latest technology. Most of the clinic’s day to day work ran through a database that Troy could connect to at the touch of his fingers on the tablet. It made his job so much easier when he could pull up someone’s files and take notes using the stylus, which the tablet then transcribed into text and sent over the messaging system. It wasn’t perfect, of course, but damn did he love it.
Out of habit, he checked his reflection in the tablet’s black screen, which reflected his closely cut hair, though the normal bright blond was dimmed by the dark surface. It had the same effect on his blue eyes, which looked darker than he knew they were. They were gifts from his late mother, right along with his sharp jawline, thin and high eyebrows, and lips that curled upward naturally, as though prepared to smile at a moment’s notice. The crooked nose was not from her, but rather from a drunken brawl several years back, but he thought it added a bit of charm.
Content that he did not look as though he hadn’t slept all night, Troy stepped out of the office and into the hallway. Waiting at the end of the row of examination rooms stood a man, young from the looks of it. Troy raised his tablet in greeting as he marched down the length of the hallway before stopping in front of him.
“Morning,” Troy said brightly.
“Uh, hi, was needing to come in for something real quick,” the man’s words were quiet, and he looked around furtively.
Troy raised a brow curiously. It wasn’t often that someone came in acting nervously. Most soldiers were over being nervous about whatever medical issues they were having, as open about them as they were with their own naked bodies. This one had to be relatively new.
Troy nodded. “Alright, well, give me your name and rank if you would.”
“Private John Simmons.”
Troy opened the tablet, typed in the information, and waited until it came up on the screen. “Alright, Private Simmons looks like you’re not due for your check-up for another couple of weeks, and your last one came through clear. So, why don’t you tell me what you’re here for?”
The private opened his mouth and stopped at the bang of the double doors leading into the clinic as they were flung open. Both he and Troy jumped in surprise at the sudden noise. In blazed Troy’s fellow clinic worker and more experienced medic. Troy watched Dean barrel forward, an aura of total fury and frustration billowing around the shorter man.
/> “Uh, morning?” Troy said carefully.
“Morning,” came Dean’s tight reply.
Dean’s eyes flipped to Simmons standing beside Troy, jerking a brow up. “What?”
“Uh, nothing?” John replied warily.
Dean turned his gaze to Troy. “He have an appointment?”
Troy wasn’t going to pretend Dean’s attitude was a surprise. Normally, Dean was a pleasure to be around, and Troy had enjoyed the last few months working alongside the man. Dean was smart, with a lot of experience, and while he was generally a kind and attentive person, he had no problem knocking a smart ass or difficult soldier down a few pegs to make them behave. And, for the past week or so, Troy’s friend had been downright foul-tempered.
Troy tried to smile benignly. “People can come in here without an appointment, Dean, that’s kind of how this works.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Save your jokes for the patients, Troy. Excuse me.”
Troy watched him go, worrying his bottom lip as he wondered what the hell was eating at his friend. Dean usually tolerated Troy’s attempts at playful humor, pretending to be annoyed by them rather than genuinely frustrated. Troy had a strong suspicion that Dean’s new mood was either to do with the man’s new beau, Marco, or with his long time best friend, Sloane.
Simmons turned to Troy with wide eyes. “Shit, what’s wrong with Doc?”
Troy winced. “Um, he’s been like that for about a week now, don’t mind him.”
Simmons sighed, shaking his head. “Fuck, man, Sloane almost took my head off today when I asked him what time he got off his shift. Think that’s got anything to do with it?”
Well, that certainly answered his question. If there were anyone who could cause Dean to spiral into a foul mood, it would be Sloane. The two of them were inseparable, and while Troy didn’t quite get the bond between Dean and Sloane, he could see how close the two of them were. Troy couldn’t recall a time when Dean and Sloane had ever fought. Now, he suspected that was exactly what was happening, which explained a lot.
At the end of the hallway, a clatter of chair wheels against the tiles announced Dean’s presence. “I think the two of you should stop gossiping and get back to what you’re here for in the first place, how about that?”
Lord Jesus, he was going to have to talk to Dean. As much as Troy didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the Doc’s bad attitude, they couldn’t have him snapping at every single person who came in either.
Troy pushed Simmons toward one of the rooms. “Right, get your ass in there before you get us both killed.”
“Man, no one seems to like questions around here,” Simmons grumbled, allowing himself to be pushed.
Troy pulled the curtain closed and pointed toward the examination table. “Just...don’t.”
“Are him and Sloane fighting?” Simmons asked as he hopped onto the table.
Troy checked the file for the private once more and grunted. “Ah, you work at the guardhouse with Sloane.”
“Yeah, and he’s been a bear.”
“And how’s that different from any other day?”
Private Simmons snorted. “I’ve been working with him long enough to know when Sloane is being Sloane, and when he’s royally pissed off. Thing is, he doesn’t, and don’t tell him I said this, but he seems kinda sad actually.”
Troy smirked. “Well, how about you do us both a favor and let the two of them sort out whatever’s going on between them. They’ve been friends for longer than you’ve been out of high school, and I don’t think anything is going to stop that.”
“You think?”
“Those two are more stuck on one another than white on rice. Just keep your head down and mind your business. Speaking of, what are you here for?”
John shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with the corner of the exam table. “I uh, wanted to get checked.”
Troy nodded. “Okay, for?”
“Sexual stuff.”
“I’m going to assume you mean an STI check,” Troy said.
Simmons winced. “Yeah.”
Troy tapped the screen, opening up a new addition to the folder. “Have you been exposed?”
“Uh, what do you mean?”
“Unprotected sex, shared a needle, swapped blood with someone, things like that.”
John’s eyes widened. “I mean...I had sex, but it was...I wasn’t dumb.”
“Just a precaution then,” Troy said.
John looked at his lap, cheeks flushing. “I met someone, and it’s getting serious, real serious. I want to...well, you know, be able to go without protection one day if we’re going to be a couple.”
Troy nodded his understanding. “I see. Well, just as a precaution, you should know that it’s not going to save you from pregnancy unless they’re on the pill.”
Simmons closed his eyes, nodding again. “Yeah, I know.”
Troy hesitated, wondering if he should pry further but decided at the last minute to pull himself back. Dean liked to remind him that his patient’s personal lives were only relevant to him up to a certain point. Maybe Troy liked to ask a few too many questions, and if the Private’s reaction was any indication, Troy should try holding himself back a little more often.
“Well, I’ll give you the works, and you should have the full results in a week. How’s that sound?” Troy asked as he finished typing and set the tablet aside.
“That would be great.”
Troy winked. “Then let’s get started.”
With the Private sent on his way, Troy made his way back to the office. The sound of merciless tapping on a keyboard gave him pause, but he knew he couldn’t stay out of the office forever. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room, surveying it quickly and trying to take a measure of Dean’s mood.
At the sound of his entrance, Dean paused, looking over his shoulder before seeing Troy and turning back to his computer. The glance was enough for Troy to realize that a great deal of Dean’s anger seemed to have dissipated, more worrisome were the dark circles that had formed deep marks on Dean’s face.
“Get Simmons taken care of?” Dean asked.
Troy watched him carefully as he took the other chair. “Yeah, he just wanted to get himself a check for the itchies.”
It took Dean a moment before he snorted. “Really, Troy?”
“What?”
“I shouldn’t have to ask this, but you did not refer to an STI test as ‘checking for the itchies’ to him, right?”
“What, worried he’ll be upset? I don’t think he would have noticed after you took both of our heads clean off.”
It was said with a wink, and a smile, which Dean didn’t see with his back turned to Troy. He couldn’t see Dean’s face, but he did see the man’s shoulders hunch slightly, as though trying to hide his face. Dean was, in Troy’s experience, an expressive and easy to read man, who didn’t bother to hide his moods or his thoughts very often.
Troy decided to push a little harder. “You uh, seem to be in a better mood now, though.”
“No, I’m still a miserable asshole. I just can’t keep being a grumpy one.”
He thought it was a point in Dean’s favor that the man seemed to know he was being unbearable. Truth be told, Troy was more worried about Dean than annoyed with him. As much as he’d tried to play it off in front of Private Simmons, Troy didn’t like the idea of Dean and Sloane fighting.
Troy had never said it, but he liked the two of them together. Hell, if they’d been a couple, he would have probably thrown a damn party for Dean and Sloane. Admittedly, Sloane would probably growl at everyone the whole time, but no one would be surprised. The two were good together, and they gave Troy hope that there were bonds out there like the two men had, ones that could get through just about anything.
Kind of like what Troy thought he’d had once upon a time.
Dean looked up. “I’ve been that bad, huh?”
Troy shook himself, glad he’d been quiet enough to warrant a comment from Dean.
It was a little too easy for Troy to get lost in thoughts of the past if he allowed it, especially if he started thinking about regrets and love lost.
Troy sighed and shrugged. “I mean, you’ve obviously been one grumpy asshole, but you haven’t been like...terrible.”
“Meaning I’ve been downright unbearable.”
Troy laughed, reaching out to pat Dean’s shoulder. “Alright, maybe you’ve been a bit much, would that make you feel better?”
“Why the hell would that make me feel better?”
“Would talking about it make you feel better?”
Dean scrunched his face up, shaking his head. “Not really.”
“Is that a not really because you and Sloane are eventually going to stop arguing over whatever it was, or a not really because you just don’t want to talk about it?”
Dean looked at him suspiciously. “How did you know it had to do with Sloane?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure until you just confirmed it but, there’s not much else that could put you in such a foul mood. And from the sounds of it, Sloane isn’t exactly in a much better mood. So put two and two together, then convince you to tell me like I just did and voila, I have my answer.”
Dean eyed him. “Thank you for being such a great friend that you tricked the truth out of me.”
“Is it really tricking you? I mean hell, you could have denied it. I think part of you wants to talk about it.”
Dean fidgeted. “I...it would be nice, but there’s a lot to it.”
Troy looked up at the clock on the wall and shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of time, and if it stays quiet, then we’ll both have all the time in the world.”
Dean snorted. “I don’t mean it’s just a long story, which it is. I mean that there’s a lot to the story, and I don’t think I have the strength to get through it all right now.”
Troy’s eyes widened. “It’s that bad?”
“I don’t know,” Dean whispered.
Again, there was a flash of shame and pain flicking over Dean’s face that was gone in an instant. A thousand questions plagued Troy’s mind, and he held each of them back. For a long time he’d come to suspect there was something between Sloane and Dean, or more likely, considering Sloane’s tragic heterosexuality, just on Dean’s end. Troy had never asked, and Dean had never said, so he couldn’t be sure. But Troy wondered if maybe that little tidbit had finally come out into the open, he imagined that would shake things up a bit.
Here We Go Again Page 2
