Chapter Text
One of the chairs was squeaking.
None of them could figure out which one, and it was driving everyone a little crazy. It seemed to squeak at the most random times, and no matter how many times they went through all the chairs, twisting and turning them this way and that to try and see which one was making the noise, they couldn't recreate it.
Avery was getting ready to say to hell with it and just throw all of them out, despite the fact that it would probably take upper management a good four months to replace them.
She rolled away from her computer for a second, stretching her arms above her head until her back gave a satisfying pop, then stood up to go get more coffee.
On her way out, it happened. The Squeak.
Immediately the med station erupted. Coworkers all flew to their feet, pointing to each other's chairs as the culprit. Accusations were made. Lines were drawn. War. Chaos.
Avery shook her head fondly as she slipped into the breakroom.
It was all in good fun of course. Things were pretty quiet around here, they had to get their excitement from somewhere.
Humming under her breath, she walked over to the coffee machine only to cut herself off with a curse when she noticed the pot was empty.
Daniels was probably the culprit, that bastard.
She dumped the old filter in the trash and placed a new one in, filling it with fresh ground before turning the machine on. Resting her hip against the counter, massaging the back of her neck while waiting for the pot to fill up, her eyes were drawn to the recruitment poster up on the cork board.
Why they insisted on putting one up in a breakroom for people who had already enlisted was beyond her, but she was more amused by the fact that it looked nearly identical to the poster she had signed up on ten years ago.
If it's not broke, she supposed.
Joining the army hadn't been her first choice. Hell, it hadn't even been her second or third, or anywhere else down the line for that matter.
And yet, here she was.
In her defense she had been stuck between a rock and a hard place, only signing up because she had, quite literally, nowhere else to go. Maybe that was why she had gone for medic instead of marine, some stubborn part of her wanting to be able to actually help people, instead of just mindlessly gunning them down.
She ended up becoming another cog in the machine regardless. Albeit, one who knew how to set a bone and keep someone's insides from becoming their outsides.
And she had been damn good at her job.
She had passed all the necessary classes and field tests with flying colors, earning her call sign after just one mission on the field. A mission that, for all intents and purposes, had been an absolute shit show from start to finish.
Their bird landed in the middle of a firefight, half the platoon had already been down due to injuries, and since there were less than twenty people, they had only sent her and a senior medic.
It had been a long, blood-soaked few hours, during which Avery had done everything from bandaging a head wound to digging around in a man's thigh so she could staple his femoral artery shut to prevent him from bleeding out. But after it was all said and done, after more reinforcements arrived and they were all able to clear out, the other medic had clapped her on the shoulder with an exhausted but proud grin and called her "A regular Florence Nightingale.”
Sitting there covered in other people's blood, hands trembling from adrenaline and shock, she certainly hadn't felt so, but nevertheless the nickname -Nightingale- had stuck.
Word spread to the higher-ups about what had happened, and Avery became a very useful cog, very quickly.
They started sending her out in the field more and more, her level headedness and quick thinking ensuring she almost always got everyone home in one piece. Within just a few years, she was boasting the lowest mortality rate of any medic, a record she managed to maintain right until her final day in the field. A day she hadn't known would be her last. A day that had somehow gone so wrong, so fast.
Avery still couldn't really remember what happened, not in detail. She remembered hopping off the evac chopper to load up the injured, remembered an explosion, remembered being shaken awake by one of the marines, remembered helping them drag the injured into the nearest building, and then woke up in a hospital bed.
Turned out she and the others had held their position for nearly three hours while waiting for the next evac. And apparently Avery had spent every second hopping between tending to the wounded and helping clear out the hostiles trying to swarm their position like ants.
The good news had been that nearly everyone survived.
The bad news, however, had been very bad. For her at least. Aside from a fractured collar bone, as well as the usual bumps and bruises, a bullet had torn through her coracobrachialis -one of the rotator cuff muscle in her right shoulders- fucking up her shooting arm and preventing her from probably ever returning to field work.
And just like that she knew it was over.
After all, it didn't matter how useful a cog used to be, if it was broken then it was useless, and the military didn't hold on to useless things.
Avery had been so sure she was heading straight for a pat on the back and an honorable discharge, wasting away in an apartment, waiting for a check in mail that would never arrive, but she lucked out.
Her captain had pulled a few strings, not only making sure she got full coverage while in recovery, but also getting her transferred to a quieter base in the middle of Illinois, a little over an hour out from Chicago.
“Consider it an early retirement of sorts.” He had told her, sitting at her bedside a few days after she had woken up. “God knows you of all people deserve it.”
Avery had frowned at that, a move that tugged at her split lip, and opened her mouth to argue, but the glare he sent her had her snapping it shut with an audible click.
“I don't want to hear it,” He huffed out, eyes softened before continuing, “You've given everything to these people, and instead of giving you a metal they wanted to toss you to the curb. Even if your shoulder heals up properly, they'll just keep sending you out there until one day you'll be sent home in a coffin. Let me offer you some advice as someone who's been at this for far too long: take the out.”
And that had been the end of it. After her collarbone and shoulder had healed enough for her to be put on light duty, she got shipped over to her new home base.
It was nice here. Quiet. Peaceful.
It made her want to claw her own skin off at first.
It had been pure torture, going from the battlefield nearly 24/7 to practically sitting around all day. She felt like a caged dog during those first few months, too much energy and nowhere to put it, but every time she even thought about trying to get back out there -fucked up shoulder or not- her captain's words would echo in her head.
She knew he was right, as loathed as she was to admit it. She might not have anyone waiting for her back home, but that didn't mean she was itching to die face down in some ditch in the middle of nowhere. Even if it felt like she was gonna go crazy in her new position.
That had been almost two years ago. She had since adjusted to her new schedule, even if that buzzing under her skin, that need to move, to do something, had never quite left. Her shoulder had healed up nicely in that time. Nicely enough that she could spare a trip to the gun range, or a spar with a fellow soldier, a few times a week to try and burn all that energy out. Most days it helped, and on the days it didn't, she would just run laps around the base until her legs gave out.
The beeping of the coffee machine pulled her back to the present, her eyes dragging over from where they had been zoned out against the far wall.
Cracking her neck, she stood back up to full height and filled her cup before turning to the fridge for the creamer, when her coworker, Irene, opened the door and poked her head in.
“Something just came up. They want us to ship out.”
Avery arched an eyebrow. “Ship out where?”
Their base was pretty notorious for having nothing really happen around it. They mostly got calls to help locals during tornado season. The few times they got calls outside of that were usually false alarms, and Avery swore to god, if she had to go stand out in the freezing rain for a potential ‘bomb threat' because some idiot tapped a bunch of wires to a fire extinguisher again, she was going to kill them.
The blonde shrugged. “No idea. The only thing they told me is that they want wheels up in thirty.”
Avery let out a long sigh, staring mournfully down at her coffee before placing the cup on the counter and jogging with her coworker to the locker room.
As soon as she entered said locker room, Avery knew what was happening. The place was filled with greenies struggling to get into their gear, all of them looking excited but nervous, and there was only one reason the greenies would be shipping out with them
Irene caught her eye over the sea of heads, mouthing the word ‘drill’.
Avery nodded subtly, the tension she hadn't noticed building along her spine quickly fizzling out.
Once a year they had to go through this, and it was the same shit every time. She had no idea why everyone had to go when it was mostly for the rookies. All she knew was that she was about to be in for a very long evening.
After getting her own gear on, and grimacing at the sight of several rookies with their vests on incorrectly, she quietly slipped out the door, leaving Irene to help them.
Making her way out to the tarmac, she lazily glanced around at the hectic scene of trucks loading up and choppers getting one last look over before take off while silently debating if she could quickly sneak back to the kitchen for her coffee.
It was an unfortunately short lived plan.
“Carter!”
The bark of her last name had her turning her attention to the familiar face of one Staff Sergeant Briggs jogging over.
Briggs was around her age, with short auburn hair and blue eyes, usually sporting a smug grin and an unquenchable need to gossip. He was also the closest thing she had to a friend around here. Avery had a rather bad case of what people called resting bitch face. Paired with her monotone voice and dry sense of humor, most people automatically assumed she was always annoyed whenever they tried talking to her.
Briggs was one of the few who stuck around long enough to figure out that was just how she was.
He saddled up next to her, their shoulders side-by-side, staring at the base scrambling around them. “You got any goddamn idea what's goin’ on?”
“Just a drill.” She told him. “That's the only time they send the rookies off base.”
He grunted in response, not sounding convinced.
She side-eyed him. “You got told something different?”
He glanced around them, looking for any lingering eyes or ears, before shrugging. “Not really. They barely told us anything actually, just a few basics and to be ready in thirty. Apparently we'll get an actual debrief when we get there.”
Avery hummed.
They both knew damn well they weren't getting a debrief now because there was nothing to debrief. She'd seen this time and time again. They would get all geared up, fly out to some field in the middle of nowhere, and find a simulated disaster waiting for them, where a senior medic from the base would then step forward and walk them through what to do if they ever found themselves in the real deal.
“That's because there's nothing to debrief on. Come on, Briggs, you know how this goes.” She glanced over with a small smile, only for it to drop when he just shifted from foot to foot.
“I don't know, man. Things feel different this time.” He muttered, looking around nervously.
Avery frowned. “What do you mean?”
Briggs opened his mouth, then closed it again a few times before shaking his head and grinning at her. “Ah, forget it. I think I've just been on base too long. All this action is getting the adrenaline pumping, ya know.”
She stared at him for a moment before nodding. “I suppose so. It's a shame we'll have nowhere to put it once we touch down. It's just gonna be one long lecture.”
“Ugh, don't remind me.” He groaned in annoyance before turning to her with an impossibly energetic grin. “Hey, you think if I throw up right now, they'll let me skip it?”
“Don't even think about it. If I have to suffer through this shit then so do you.” She told him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Besides, if anyone deserves to be able to skip this it should be me. Half the time I know more than the person in charge.”
Avery had a running theory that all the ‘senior medics’ for these drills were just nieces and nephews of hirer-ups, who had never seen a day of actual combat in their lives.
“And that's exactly why you need to go! Who else is going to correct them in the middle of their sentences?” He jeered, dancing out of the way when she half-heartedly jabbed at his side with her fingers.
“Fuck off. It's not my fault that Daniels didn't know jack shit last year.”
He clicked his tongue at her. “Now that's not a very good attitude to have. You're gonna set a bad example for the greenies.”
This time he wasn't fast enough to dodge the elbow she shoved into his side.
“I would argue,” She snapped over his wheezing, “That I would set the best possible example by not being there at all. Seriously, why do I have to do this again? It's the same exact shit every year. You'd think that after a certain amount of times I could opt out.”
He rubbed his ribs with a scowl. “Well, it would be kinda hard for you to stay behind considering you've been assigned senior medic this time.”
Avery snapped her head over at him so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. “What?”
Briggs gave her his signature shit-eating grin, “Surprise! You're in charge of the kiddies today!”
She blinked at him a few times before narrowing her eyes. “You’re fucking with me. Staff Sergeant Daniels is the senior medic since he's the oldest.”
He raised his hands up placatingly. “I’m just telling you what they told me. ‘Staff Sergeant Carter will be senior medic for this operation’. Guess someone heard about what happened last year and decided you'd be a better teacher this time.”
She just stared him down, eyes darting back and forth across his face, looking for any cracks in his facade, suspicion turning to horror when she found none. “Please tell me you're joking.”
He shook his head, grin still firmly in place.
Avery let her eyes slip shut as she pinched the bridge of her nose, hissing a drawn out, “Fuuuuck me.”
Briggs snickered. “Aw, come on. Maybe this batch won't be so bad.”
“Five of them had their vest on backwards, and at least three had it on upside down.” She mumbled miserably, dragging her eyes back open.
He grimaced at that, patting her shoulder sympathetically.
His eyes suddenly flickered behind her, dropping his hand and straightening up. “Speaking of the kiddies.”
Avery tossed a look over her shoulders, finally seeing the other medics come pouring out of the building, poor Irene having to herd them like school children.
She shot Briggs a pleading look, but the traitor just started inching away. “Well, that's my cue to leave. Have fun and try not to kill any of ‘em.”
The propellers on the bird in front of her started up, a loud whirring filling the air as the last of the stragglers grouped up.
“Who knows,” Briggs raised his voice to be heard over it, that stupid grin back in place, “Maybe you'll find out that teaching is your true calling!”
The glare she sent him could have melted steel.
He just laughed it off, fistbumping her shoulder and jogging off to his own bird, tossing one last comment over his shoulder. “Show ‘em how it's done, Nightingale.”
She flipped off his retreating back before turning to the rookies now grouped up behind her. Most of them were murmuring excitedly like they were heading out of a field trip.
Which they technically were, she supposed, but they didn't know that.
Irene stepped forward, coming to a stop just off to her left, standing to attention since blonde was technically one rank below her. Avery was quick to wave her down, stepping closer and murmuring, “How bad was it?”
The wordless, exhausted look Irene fixed her with spoke volumes.
Avery winced, muttering, “Ah fuck", Under her breath.
“Yup.” Irene muttered back, already looking done with today.
Avery cracked her neck before turning back to the group, breaking out her ‘commander’ voice. “Alright, listen up!”
The group went silent.
“My name is Staff Sergeant Carter, and I've been assigned senior medic for this operation. That means any questions or comments you have will be directed at me. We're heading into an unknown situation to provide medical attention if necessary. That means as soon as we touch down we will start pitching tents and readying ourselves to administer aid.”
She went through the same little speech that had been barked at her a million times by now, but tacked on her own set of rules with a meaningful glare. “You will not wander off from the group for any reason, you will keep your sidearm holstered at all times, and for the love of god please keep all your limbs inside the helicopter while it's in the air. If one of you dumbass falls out on the way over there, we're not coming back for you. Am I clear?”
There were a few snickers mixed in with the chorus of ‘Yes ma'ams’, but she decided to let it slide.
“Alright,” She gestured to the chopper behind her, “Then get on the bird.”
She stepped off to the side, watching as the rookies all scrambled to get on, laughing and shoving at each other, her and Irene sharing a look over the tops of their heads. Once the last of them got buckled into their seats, Irene started climbing up into the bird, Avery hot on her heels, only for both of them to freeze as the screech of fighter jets filled the air.
Avery’s head shot up, eyes widening at the sight of four of them rocketing overhead, flying past the base, a pit forming in her stomach. She dropped her gaze back to Irene, the blonde's eyes locked onto where the jets had disappeared over the horizon before shifting over to meet Avery's, wary unease having replaced the boredom which sat in them just seconds ago.
No words were exchanged. No words needed to be. They both knew something was very wrong.
Jet full was far too expensive for them to burn on a simple drill.
They both climbed into the bird, everyone inside rocking back and forth as it took off. Avery kept a close eye on where they were headed, the pit in her stomach growing when she noticed they were following the same path as the jets, and then growing more when she glanced at the compass in the cockpit.
They were headed northeast.
They were headed towards Chicago.