Warm Bodies: The Little Brown Bear

The Medic

Stephen was dead. The doctor who'd helped to save his life had just died under his hands.

The stolen memories slipped from Rowan's mind, as the shock hit him hard, and he stared in horror at Stephen's empty face.

Oh god... I failed... I... couldn't...

Something snapped into place inside.

Get a fucking grip, man. You know what you're doing.

The voice in his mind wasn't really his, and it scared him a little, but he took a deep breath, and something took over, barking orders to everyone within reach as they lifted Stephen onto a stretcher and he sealed the wounds and started compressions. The transfusion line went in quick, and by the time they'd reached OR, he'd started a reliable rhythm with the defib and knew exactly how he was going to tackle the ballistic trauma to the man's chest and lung.

Everything felt right, everything went right, and while he'd lost a few in the field under similar conditions, he worked damn hard to make sure he wouldn't have to go through that again with this guy.

For some reason, they kept calling him 'Rowan' in the OR, he wasn't sure why, but it made him feel funny, made his hands work funny, so they stopped, and called him Jack instead like he asked. The guy working opposite him, Dan, was cool. Didn't have any army experience but knew his shit, and laughed at a few of his worst jokes. There was a cute chick who really shouldn't have been there, her hands trembled the entire time they were working, and she wouldn't stop staring at him as he cut away the lung tissue they had no chance of saving. He understood they were short on people, he just wished she hadn't stared at him like that. Made him uncomfortable.

Then they were done, and they wheeled the guy back to the ICU, and he had a lot to say about their setup, some improvements they might be able to make, and they all just nodded, and stared at him, until he stopped talking and stared back.

"What?"

Dan looked at the Colonel standing beside him, who Jack honestly thought was a bit of an ass, though he had to respect the guy's military experience, and the Colonel nodded and walked away.

"Here, this is your bed," Dan said, and took Jack gently by the arm, guiding him to the only other spare bed, to the right of their patient. Some kid was set up on the other side of the room, a thin, young guy with the whitest hair Jack had ever seen. Possibly shock related. He sure didn't look like an albino.

Jack glanced over his shoulder at the Colonel, who'd grabbed something from the far side of the room and was walking back with it. Then he turned back to Dan, shaking his head. "I don't need a bed doc, I'm fine. I've gotta get back to Amy, she's probably worried."

Dan raised an eyebrow, but nodded slowly. "This will only take a moment, you've got a couple of cuts I want to look at."

Jack snorted, "Dan, I can take care of those myself. Seriously, I need to get home. Can I borrow somebody's phone?"

"Jesus Christ," the Colonel whispered under his breath as he came around the side of the bed. "Just indulge us, or better yet, consider it an order."

The smile left Jack's face. "With all due respect sir, you're not my commanding officer."

"Who is?" the man asked intently, and followed the question quickly with another. "What year is this?"

"John, I don't think we should push him," Dan said quietly, and started looking at Jack's shoulder, pressing it gingerly.

"What year is this?" Jack said with a laugh. "What the hell kind of question is tha-ow!" He winced then, jerking back from Dan. "Damn... what happened to my arm?"