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The wall felt cooling against Scout's pounding head. He moved his face to try and cool his puffy, strained eyes.
Disappointment...will never be better than...you know, your brothers stayed in school... echoed through his throbbing consciousness. His legs quaked, threatening to give out underneath him. He resolved to stand firm and swallow back the lump in his throat. He just needed to clear his runny nose and splash some cool water on his face, and no one would be the wiser.
He removed himself from his post and began his journey to get some tissues. He allowed little energy to each foot. His pace was slow. His mind was not.
"So what if I ain't a doctor or goin' ta school to be a lawyer?" Scout clenched his fists. A shot of pain jolted from his bruised knuckles and left Scout in a strangled stance of agony. He held his right hand close to his chest, waiting for the throbbing pain to subside. He felt his nose run and eyes sting with tears in response.
Catching his breath, he wiped the clear liquid under his nose with his wrapped left hand and moved forward. His mind continued to work.
"Whada doctors know? They don't care about healing people. They just wanna hurt 'em and put weird things in their bodies."
His body was riddled with lethargy. His usual temperament after his occasional phone calls home made him more tolerable to be around, or so most of the other mercs agreed that it was more quiet around the base. Today, however, his body felt overly taxed. His gait matched half of that of his normal.
He finally approached the medbay doors. Using his uninjured hand, and with his breath caught in his throat, he cracked the right door open. He cautiously poked his head in the room and slowly turned his head to each side anticipating the tell-tale German accent.
With the coast clear, he inched his way to the desk and grabbed a tissue. He blew his nose as quietly as possible. When he was done, he breathed in through his nose to found that he couldn't. He swallowed. His throat was sore. Fan-freakin-tastic. The only way this day could get worse was if someone were to -
"Scout?" Medic approached from the runner's right side.
"Uhh, hi, doc." Scout murmured in the direction of the floor.
"Mein Gott, your hand. Vhat in zhe vorld...?"
Scout winced, forcing his hand away from Medic's grasp.
"Nothin'. Just a bruise." Scout suddenly hacked, involuntarily clenching his injured hand to cough into it. "Ow!"
"And, you're sick? Zhis is unacceptable. First, let me heal you. It'll only take a second." He grabbed for Scout's hand.
"No, doc. It's fine." Scout recoiled.
"Nonsense!" Medic smiled while attempting to grab ahold of Scout's arms.
"No, doc, really. Would you please just-"
Medic finally grabbed ahold of Scout's arms. His smiled faded upon realizing Scout's expression. His eyes were red and glossy surrounded by lightly puffed eyelids. His nose was colored a dull red. His face wore an expression of hurt rather than his annoyingly cocksure grin.
"-stop." Scout finished.
Medic paused while he continuously studied the patient in front of him. Rather than dropping the boys arms, he pulled the runner into a tight hug.
"Vhat is wrong, liebchen?" Medic talked past Scout's shoulder.
Scout weakly squirmed against his captor's arms and body, "Like I said. Ain't nothin' wrong."
His throat pained to talk against the pressure of Medic's shoulder.
"Nein." Medic dragged the boy to where the Medigun hung from the ceiling and let go of Scout to turn it on.
A light glowing beam washed over Scout. The runner watched the dark purple recede from his skin and disappear under his hand wraps. He flexed his hand over and over, feeling his joints respond without complaint. He brought its clenched form to his mouth as he heavily coughed.
The doctor had left the youth during this process and returned. Scout looked up in time to see Medic place two filled syringes onto a nearby small, metal table. Each clink from the syringes placed on the table ricocheted shivers up Scout's spine.
"Now, about zhat cough." Medic approached, placing either hand behind himself while his signature toothy grin crept across his face.
"Ain't no way, ain't no how!" Scout fumbled for the medbay doors.
He had regained some of his strength back and was able to run at a decent speed. He shoved his way past Heavy knowing that he'd probably have to pay for it later. He turned the corner and stumbled past the door into the communal bathroom.
He held himself against the wall and panted freely into the air. His body, overtaken by a sudden surge of heat, attempted to cool itself off in an onslaught of sweat. Scout wiped his brow. His tiredness, having caught up with him, drained him of the strength he had had just a moment ago. Feeling sticky and disgusting, he finally resolved to drag himself to one of the many sinks.
He turned on the tap and watched the cool water pool into his hands before bringing it up and splashing it onto his face. He repeatedly soaked his hands and face, until his mind caught up with him. After a last full splash, he dragged his hands down his face. Placing his hands to either side of the sink, he studied himself in the mirror. A pair of tired eyes stared back at him. He thought about the phone call just a little while ago. His shoulders slumped in response. And, not only was he a sad sod of a boy, but his muscles ached, his head hurt, and his throat felt scratchy.
He came to from his thoughts and found himself staring at the running water before applying just enough strength to turn it off.
Maybe his Ma was right. Maybe he really was the ugly, good-for-nothing of his family. He took in a sharp breath causing him to cough openly into the sink. He felt weak.
He wanted to collapse into a ball and hold himself, but not here. Not now. But, really, who would care? He was fast. He could get away. Come up with some bull excuse like he dropped something on the floor and just run, the only thing he is good at. Or was.
His body now seemingly refused to cooperate, or at least, have the strength to.
He sat down, pulled his legs close, and buried his face in his shorts. There was at least one person that seemed to have more to say to Scout than to keep his mouth shut and to get a job. That one person could fix this. If only he'd freakin' show his ass.
Scout tensed to the door opening.
"Scout?" He heard the familiar German accent. "Are you in here?"
Scout skittered to his feet and made for one of the stalls. He closed the door and sat on the seat, bringing his feet off of the floor. He heard Medic nearing close to where he remained hidden. He breathed through his mouth and watched in muted silence.
Medic looked around but saw no one. He walked over to the stalls. They always appeared closed and locked by design. He stood in front of one and pushed the door. He inspected the inside for a moment before calling out again.
"Is there anybody in here?" He let go of the door and adjusted his glasses. Heavy had told him he had seen the boy bolt for the bathroom after their little collision. He walked in front of another stall.
Scout could see Medic through the cracks between the stall door. He held his breath.
Medic pushed on the door and found it stuck. Perplexed, he proceeded to knock.
"Is there someone in there?" He heard a slight coughing. "Scout?"
Scout looked up from his knees to find Medic staring at him through a crack. He quickly buried his face back between his knees.
"Ain't nothin' wrong, doc." He spoke into his shorts.
"Scout, I want to talk." Medic replied.
Scout refused to answer back. He was stuck between making a getaway under the stall, pretending this wasn't happening, and occasionally coughing.
Getting tired of no response but coughing, "Scout, what's wrong? You sound sick. Did you call home, again?"
"Go away," was all Scout could muster in a small voice.
"Scout, let me see you." Medic pressed.
Scout unwrapped himself from around his legs and placed his feet on the ground. He crouched to the floor and sprung out from underneath the stall. He ran on all fours before pushing himself to his feet and running out of the bathroom.
He didn't look back. His mind was focused on getting away. He nearly collapsed to the ground. His body ran out of what little energy it had left. His sickened state had him holding one hand to the wall and one hand on his knee, catching whatever breath he could. He began to shiver. He wrapped his arms around himself as he fought to walk forward. His teeth chattered loudly and he walked awkwardly, rubbing and pressing his thighs together with each step to hold in whatever warmth he had. Just a bit further and he could get to his room and ignore the rest of the world under his snug covers. No one wanted to help him, and he didn't need anyone's help.
He finally got to the door of his room and shoved the door open. He slammed it shut, kicked off his shoes, and made for the bed.
Upon burying himself under two layers of bed sheets, he laid still, listening. The only movements came from his chest expanding and contracting to his ragged breathing and his body shivering as it adjusted itself to the insulated surroundings.
The door clicked open. Medic quietly stepped over to the bed and sat on a side near the unmoving lump.
Medic didn't speak for a while. He watched for any movement, but the blankets stayed still.
“May I see my patient?”
Scout shook his head. From the outside, one small portion of the blankets rustled.
“May I see my liebchen?”
Scout curled in on himself. Before conceding to Medic's request, he had a small demand.
“You have to lay down.”
Scout felt Medic's weight shift to match his lengthwise. Instead of showing his face to Medic, he threw the blankets off his head and buried his face in the older man's chest.
"Everyone hates me, and I'm sick." Scout spoke.
"I can tell that last part, but not everyone hates you."
"Yes, they do." Scout responded.
"I don't hate you." Medic stroked the side of Scout's head.
Scout sighed. Why couldn't Medic just empathize? "My Ma is always sayin' how great my brothers are and hates that I don't go to school to be a doctor. I ain't no doctor!" Scout shouted into Medic's chest.
"I know. You're the Scout. You're good at running. That's why you're here." Medic continued to stroke Scout's hair.
Scout didn't say anything for a while. "I guess...but now I'm sick and can't run. What use is that?"
"That's why I'm here. I can help you." Medic squeezed Scout's arm.
Scout buried himself back under the bed sheets. "I don't want any needles, doc!"
"Don't be such a baby. Besides, this doesn't require needles. You just need some medicine."
"What about like soup?" Scout talked through the blankets.
"Soup?" Medic wasn't expecting this question.
"Yeah, like hot soup, cuz I'm freakin' freezin' ovah here. Can you make that?"
Medic smiled. "Ja, ja. But, only if I can see mein liebchen's face."
He was greeted with a disgruntled look from Scout who then quickly covered his face again.
"There, ya got a good look at the world's most gorgeous man. Can you make that soup now? And, don't put carrots. You know I hate that shit."
Medic wrapped himself around the mummified blanket for a man. He was rewarded with Scout eliciting a wheezed groan.
"First take these. I'll be back schnell."
Scout stuck out a hand to take the pills.
“...can I have a glass a water?” Scout ventured after receiving the medicine. “Please?”
“Of course. Just a moment.” Medic smiled.
After receiving the glass and taking the pills, Scout waited for Medic's re-arrival with soup in hand. While he waited, he concentrated on staying awake. Just as he drifted off, the bed sheets were peeled away from on top of him. He reflexively covered his eyes from the bright, daytime light.
“Here you are.” Medic held a bowl of lightly steaming vegetable soup.
Scout shifted to a sitting position and took the bowl. Medic sat beside him on his left side and wrapped an arm around him.
Scout poked at the meal with his spoon. “There's a carrot.”
Medic chuckled. “I guess one fell in. Or maybe it thought because it's so small that no one would ever notice it. Though to some, it can be quite noticeable and loud in the mouth.” He kissed the side of the runner's head.
Scout tried to look mad but couldn't help but smirk. “Thanks, doc.”