Freelancer New York (freelancer_york) wrote in knowhereic, @ 2017-09-25 23:37:00 |
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It was evening. Late evening. That meant the clinic was mostly empty and that York was on rotation. It meant that the tall Spartan could be found in the main triage room. It was where he usually was. Today, he was just finishing up stitching a wound that someone had come in with. He’d send them off with a nod before turning and noticing that there was someone new. At first, he thought it was a patient-- but the man looked too comfortable here among the hospital beds and sterile rooms. No one who wasn’t a doctor or medic was that comfortable in places people went to die. “Hey there.” Came the blonde’s greeting as he tugged his gloves off and tossed them in the trash, then made his way over to the.. Oh, my. He was short. Ahem. Made his way over to the man. “Can I help you with something?” --- John had been touching his tablet gingerly, rotating the small map on it to see a little better when the voice interrupted his tinkering. It was late, but John rarely slept these days as it were. When he slept, it was a gateway to nightmares. Hospitals and bedsides were a comfort to him, which was likely a concern to anyone on the outside looking in. Fortunately for John, he didn’t have anyone doing that. Sherlock had taken that away from him. Nail in the coffin. Space was actually pretty damn funny and a fairly good metaphor for his life lately, not that any of his shrinks would actually believe this had happened should he bother to seek out another. If they did believe it he was likely to question their qualifications as it were. A pair of warm brown eyes turned toward the direction of the voice that interrupted his tablet use. “Oh Hullo.” He even offered a faint smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude. I was just familiarizing myself with the place. I’m John, John Watson.” He had a British accent, it wasn’t terribly heavy but it was obviously there. --- “Oh, hey, Doctor Watson. Yeah, I’m York.” A hand came out almost immediately, a wider smile spreading out over his face. Tall, blonde, one eye. Yeah, that was York alright. “Glad to see you found your way here alright. How are you settling in? I don’t think anyone’s going to expect you to hop right into work before you even get a decent meal. You should ease in. No crisis right now.” Right now being the key words. A hand came out for a shake. “Welcome to Knowhere, Doctor. Which apartment building did you get?” He imagined the man had gone for a studio, but he could be wrong. “Still no rotation?” Lord, the Freelancer could talk. And he had so many questions. --- “I’m managing anyway.” Watson admitted with a faint smile. Space was confusing, but it was several hundred light years if not more away from Sherlock Holmes. So he was okay with this. Space was a place he could make a new life for himself, and this man seemed friendly enough to try it out on. He could actually interact with him without worrying that maybe Sherlock would come along and mess it all up. John always worried about that. Things Sherlock would do if he dared to actually make friends with normal humans. He was on his own now. He really needed to stop thinking about Sherlock and start thinking about his own life. “Suppose you’ve got a point.” He returned the handshake, his own hands worn from weapon use. “But I like being prepared.” John didn’t want to look like a moron come the day a crisis did arise. He didn’t want to be caught off guard in any way. “No, no rotation yet.” He didn’t really like the idea of being rotation-less. It made him fidgety not having a work plan. --- “No, I get that. I like to be prepared, too.” Prepared for everything. Heck, York had all sorts of plans in his head, things that he and Delta had come up with when they were trapped alone on that planet and had nothing to do but break into buildings and think up ways to avoid dying in the zombie Apocalypse. Don’t judge. You had to do things to keep your brain sharp when you were trapped on a world without other people. Releasing the doctor’s hand, he turned to gesture. “You want a tour of the place? I can’t help with the rotation assignment, but I can help give you a lay of the land.. Show you where the on-call room is.” The room where they all got to sleep, if they were unable to leave the med bay for some reason. Which happened more often than not. --- “Sure. Sounds good to me.” On the outside John seemed cheerful enough-he hoped, but the smile he wore didn’t really touch his eyes. He didn’t expect anyone to pay that close of attention to him though, if at all possible actually he preferred to keep out of the limelight. If there was another doctor who wanted said spotlight, he was more than happy to let them know. “So you’re a soldier, how long were you in? Or...are you still…?” John didn’t know which it was anymore, seemed they’d all been snatched up from different places. He didn’t want to assume again with the man. He’d already assumed he was American when he’d never heard the term Freelancer. People didn’t enjoy assumptions generally, he should have known. “I already feel like the rug’s been pulled out from under me a bit. I’m not the best with change.” He admitted, but was clearly trying to sort things through like a normal adult. He didn’t have anyone to lean on now. It was just him, so he had to make due. So far so good. No episodes or PTSD issues. He was actually moving okay. The facility wasn’t exactly easy on his leg, so that caused some concern to note for later. --- “Oh, I think I’m still in. It’s not like we ever retire. At least, not where I come from. I’ve been in the military since I was five.” Yeah. Five. But it was perfectly normal according to York, as all Spartans had been taken and trained so young. “I’ve never been anything but a soldier.” So no, he wasn’t out. He never would be. “How about you?” How long had this man been a soldier? Not too long, York could tell. It wasn’t in the way he walked, or stood, or spoke. He was just a man who’d been a soldier. The Spartan found he was glad for it. Real soldiers were never happy. This guy seemed like he deserved happiness. “Are you hurt?” He was moving okay, but Delta picked up the small inconsistencies. No normal human would have, but the AI was neither normal, nor human. --- “...Five. Legally?” John looked up a bit shocked at that. Putting children in a war seemed sad to him. Children should have a chance to be children, this man seemed not to have had it. He was quiet, watching the way York walked. He carried like a soldier. John on the other hand considered himself much more than just a soldier. He was a doctor, a husband, a father. He had a life outside it, but wondered briefly if York had known anything else. If he’d had the choice to. “Not nealy as long, three years in Afghanistan before I was injured.” He didn’t like to talk about it, but it was getting easier. John wasn’t sure that was good or not. The AI’s voice startled him slightly. “...It’s an old injury. Normally not an issue.” This wasn’t normal though. Absolutely nothing about space could be considered normal. --- “I’m not so sure about legally.. It was just what needed to be done. They didn’t send us to the front line until we were nearly twelve, so it isn’t as bad as it sounds. We did our jobs well, we don’t have any regrets.” That blue eye slipped over to the doctor again and he smiled. “But nothing’s really normal in space, is it?” York asked. Inside his head, the AI was running diagnostics on the shorter man beside him. Assessing the old injury to his leg, along with his general health. Delta did it to everyone. “I think we’ve all got some old war wounds that act up now and again.” York didn’t, not really. All of his were healed by his suit except his eye. The left one gone entirely, the right one blurry at best. It hurt to read. It hurt to aim. Delta helped with all of that. “I’ve never heard of a place called Afghanistan.” Even as he said it, Delta was supplying specs for the country, inside his head, all that information revealed in a blink. Sometimes it unnerved York. “The offices are here.” He said as he turned into another hall, gesturing to the long row of doors on either sides. “They’re just for the doctors.. The nurses and medics don’t really get anything cool, except long hours.” A smile formed easily on his face. Really, York had enough knowledge to be a doctor. He could run circles around most ER doctors, he just wasn’t a surgeon. And he didn’t have a fancy piece of paper with his name on it from some college that had been blown up a long time ago. Did it bother him, just a little, that everyone with the title of ‘Doctor’ in this place looked down on people without the title? Yeah, maybe a little. They assumed that the medics couldn’t do it, didn’t have enough experience, didn’t have the education. Like learning in a classroom was the only thing that mattered. He tried not to let it bother him, but it did. Thankfully, he kept it to himself. “I’m sure they’ll let you have any one that you want. There are labs, too, at the other end.” For doctors. --- York had a point there. “Suppose you’re right there. Nothing normal about any of this.” He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was actually in space. “Afghanistan was a war torn country whose leader was a dictator that created problems for both it’s own people and other countries. So we stepped in alongside a few other countries to help them. It’s own government had civilians blowing themselves up for the good of their god they claimed among other ridiculous things.” John didn’t really want to get into specifics. It was nasty business. “It’s a third world country if you’ve ever heard that term?” There was no condescending tone to John, he understood people coming from different places. Nobody could understand everything. As he followed York he raised a dirty blonde eyebrow at his comment. “Why not, you’re here just as long as we are then you’ve got a right to any of these spots as much as we do. Take one. Anyone with an issue can come talk to me.” John didn’t see the problem with letting the nurses and assistants take a room as well. He didn’t believe in hierarchy bullshit. You do the work, you get what you deserve. “Same goes for the other nurses and medics if they want a space. “ John added unsure of how many others there were besides York. If thats how things in space worked, things in space were about to change. Watson would see to it. --- Third world country? Delta gladly supplied York with a quick run-down, in the comforts of his brain, and the soldier nodded. That made sense. “Where I’m from, religion is obsolete. We reference it sometimes, but no one practices it anymore. It’s just lost all of its importance.” Thank goodness. Religion did more harm than good. “I really appreciate that, sir, but you’re new here and the last thing that needs to happen is for you to get reprimanded by..” Who would reprimand him? Really? “..Someone..” Whoever it might be. “Besides, I’m just a medic, it’s not like I get files or anything the way you guys do.” They didn’t trust the nurses and medics with much, unfortunately. Maybe that would change with Watson around.. He’d been a soldier, he knew what the other soldiers could do. All of the other doctors here had been fed with a silver spoon and had paid out tons of money to go to fancy medical schools. Honestly, York was glad to have another soldier here, one who had a bit more stature. --- “Honestly I wish it were.” If it had been perhaps there wouldn’t have been need for war like the one he’d been involved in It was messy business. “Not terribly religious myself nor are most people from London anymore I think and we’re a bit better off for it in my opinion. But that’s for another time. “ John waved a hand with a faint smile, the man didn’t really enjoy conflict if it could be avoided. Political and religious things could get complicated, and he just wanted to make friends, make a new life. Even if it seemed like York was in agreement with him who knew should the topic delve any deeper so it was best to wave it off. “By who? The dog?” John asked with a quirked eyebrow. “Seems having paws puts him out of his element in medical so I believe it’ll be up to the doctors here to make the change. Personally I see no issue with it. While I hesitate to hand over files to someone not certified, show me what you can do and we’ll talk about getting you in that position if you’d like.” He couldn't just take the man’s word for it, he didn’t know him. He’d have to see it first hand, and then if York could handle himself which-by the way he spoke and acted seemed like he could then maybe they’d see about getting him bumped up a level. “You had dinner yet?” He asked, having not done so himself. Might be a good opportunity to get to know the man he’d be working with. -- York chuckled softly when Watson joked about who would reprimand him. The man had a point! But, shaking his head, he’d slip his hands into his pockets and smile over at the other man. “No, no dinner yet. But I’d love to share a meal with you, if you’ve got the time. Hear more about where you’re from and your medical specialties.” He inclined his head towards the shorter blonde. “My treat.” The Spartan was strangely good at making friends. Funny that he had so many enemies. |