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Susan snipped the thread she’d been using to stitch the hand wound shut. It was barely a three inch cut, but the depth of it had her wondering where it had actually come from. She’d gone through everything in her head, ranking it from most to least likely with this man. It was most likely above anything else, an accident. But the short, “it’s nothing” She'd gotten as an explanation made it hard to tell. It wasn’t the worst she’d seen. Seven stitches, and a nice wrap of gauze was all he would need. Provided she knew how it had happened.
But Bishop was tight lipped. It was the whole reason he held the rank he did. Susan was certain that in the very unlikely position she’d ever be in where she had to torture him, she wouldn’t be successful in getting anything. Though she’d considered one or two methods. It made dealing with his theatrics easier for her. Briefly her eyes flitted up to meet his, before remembering he always wore those shades whenever he could. She’d never be able to figure him out.
“And you’re sure you don’t want to tell me?” she asked, keeping her voice level.
“Yup.”
She wished he didn’t wear the bandana either so she could have detected at least the faintest twitch of the mouth, or a quick bite at a lower lip. Hell, even a cheek muscle tensing in a blink-and-you-miss-it flutter would have been helpful.
“Bishop.” she said, placing her hand on his arm as he started to get up. “Is it anything that would cause infection?”
“Susan, I would have told you.” he lied with ease. “Thanks. I’ll come back if it gets weird or anything.”
Then he was moving, already halfway across the infirmary with a few long legged strides. The speed would have impressed anyone else, especially combined with his near silent footsteps. He was quick, quiet, and faceless. It was a persona that would have fooled anyone without her experience and nose for bullshit. She watched him disappear into the outside world of sun and dirt, then with a sigh, she glanced behind her to where the other half of the rarely seen SOG duo sat.
Ibex either hadn’t noticed Bishop leaving, or didn’t seem to mind. He was sitting quietly, arm folded comfortably on the back of his chair, a lightly smouldering cigarette between the fingers. Susan didn’t think she’d ever seen him take a drag. He’d said once he liked the smell but the taste sickened him. Nothing tasted better or sweeter than pipe tobacco according to him. His eyes were closed, not sleeping, but simply enjoying the clean, quietness of the infirmary that day. She let him have it for just a minute longer before disturbing that peace.
“Ibex.” She said.
“Angel.” he replied calmly, voice deep and warm.
“Doctor Angel, thank you.” She reached into her skirt pocket as she strode over, fingers closing around a still capped syringe. “Wanna tell me what happened?”
Ibex’s eyes opened, his brown irises already locked in on hers, intense and focused. He wasn’t as tightly wound as Bishop was. Though like every soldier she’d ever met, there was a sense that he hadn’t unclenched his jaw in several years. But she could see he was trying for her. She had always liked that about him.
“You’ll find I’m a little easier to buy than some people.” Ibex said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Susan could never help but return that smile. “You know I’m good for it. I want answers first, then depending on what I hear, you might have a job.”
“Double the price.” Ibex said, stubbing out the cigarette.
“What happened to his hand?”
“Dumbass knocked it against the helicopter door when we got dropped off earlier.”
“Metal?”
“Rusted.” it was said with knowing amusement.
Susan sighed. That’s what she’d thought. The cut was too jagged for a knife wound and too clean for something like a rock. She pulled the tetanus vaccine out of her pocket and held it up. Ibex pursed his lips and shook his head, containing a laugh better than most men she’d met.
“Am I gonna have to call the boys to get him back here?” she asked.
“No, Doctor Angel.” Ibex said calmly. “Upper arm or thigh, right?”
Susan handed him the syringe. Then she reached into the drawer next to him and pulled out a jar that she usually only saved for herself and maybe one or two people she genuinely liked. A rainbow of lollipops was tucked inside. Ibex took a red one and an orange. She took a yellow one for herself.
“Can you at least tell me how he could sit there for twenty minutes while I sewed him up but he can’t take a little shot?”
“Bishop likes to be a mystery.” Ibex said. The wrapper crackled as he peeled it off the orange lollipop. “But if I had to guess, he wanted you to think he was cool and reached his limit.”
“Will you tell him I think he’s an idiot?”
“Anything for you.” Ibex laughed, his breath smelled like smoke and sugary citrus.
“For that you can have one more.” Susan said, and offered him the jar.
--
Ibex watched the flock of vultures in their tent. After only a handful of minutes observing, he was certain at least two of them could be of use. He didn’t necessarily need them. Any other time, he would have happily walked up to Bishop and jammed the needle into his shoulder. simple as that. But this was so unbelievably stupid that Ibex felt the primal urge to match him. Besides, he had time to kill, and boredom was never easy for him to deal with.
“Captain Baker.” He called, giving a salute.
Ryan turned before his name fully left Ibex’s lips.
“Ibex.” he said, extending a hand. “We met earlier-”
“I remember.” Ryan said, taking the handshake.
“I need a Vulture. Just for a minute or two.”
“Why?
“I thought parrots were the birds who asked too many questions.”
Ryan’s brow furrowed as the joke missed him by a centimeter. It was like throwing a ball for a dog who was not remotely interested. Ibex wondered how long it had been since this man felt anything other than soulcrushing guilt or exhaustion of some sort.
“Never mind.” Ibex said, moving on. “I need someone quick who can take a hit if needed.”
“You still haven’t answered my first question.” Ryan said.
“And I won’t. That reminds me, which one can keep their mouth shut?.”
He watched as Ryan mentally crossed off at least four of the men behind him. Not the pretty one, not the drunk. Not the quiet one with the bug eyes. Not the shiny, new one. Ibex had decided which one would get the job done, but he liked watching someone’s mind work to catch up with his.
“Miller.” Ryan said. He didn’t have to raise his voice over the din of the tent to be heard.
The soldier answered quickly, hopping up and jogging over. Ibex watched as the casual stride tightened into the walk that every single man he’d met in the past few years had drilled into him. His eyes flicked at Ibex nervously, but he saluted all the same. Ibex gauged he’d boxed at some point from that little run and the build.
“Captain.” Miller greeted. “Sir.’ to Ibex.
Ryan turned and disappeared back into the tent, away from the others. Ibex noted the way Miller tensed up in the unfamiliar presence. He reached out and clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him along as he set back off towards the edge of the camp.
“Ten minutes is all I need, Miller.” Ibex grinned. “You got a first name?”
“Charlie, sir.”
“Charlie. Good name. I saw you with that hick. You good at wrangling idiots, Charlie?”
“Sir?”
--
They stood outside the tent. They had been for about two minutes of the ten minutes Ibex had asked from Charlie. Bishop was coming across the yard, sunglasses down, even as evening fell. The gauze on his hand was already lightly stained, the wound probably irritated as it settled into its new seal. It was probably still sore too, meaning Bishop probably wasn’t in the best of moods. Not many people could read that in a man who kept ninety-five percent of his face covered at all times, but they’d worked together long enough so that Ibex could tell just from the walk alone how Bishop was feeling.
Crabby was fine. Crabby would make this easy, and maybe even a little fun.
“What’s your job Charlie?”
Charlie’s fist was shoved into his pocket, gripping the syringe tightly. Ibex hoped it was the weirdest thing he had to do all week. He always liked making that kind of impression on people.
“Upper arm or thigh.” Charlie said awkwardly.
“Thigh preferable.” Ibex said. “He’s got elbows like knives so do not get caught by one.”
“This is-” Charlie watched a bearded man in a bush-hat clearly giving Bishop a hard time. “This isn’t something that’s gonna bite me in the ass, is it?”
“No, Charlie. Personal favor.” Ibex said with a grin. “It means I owe you one.”
The man in the bush-hat barked a loud laugh as Bishop shoved him out of the way. He clenched, then flexed his injured hand as he walked, almost like he was reminding himself not to swing.
“Isn’t this the guy who was gonna pound us for asking questions?”
“Yup. Me too by the way.” Ibex said, straightening up as Bishop headed towards them. “So shut up and be quick.
Bishop walked by them. Ibex detected the slightest tilt of the head in Charlie’s direction, imperceptible to anyone else. Charlie wasn’t supposed to be there, nor was he wanted there.
“Vulture?” He asked, holding the tent flap partially open as he went to step inside. “You’re-”
Compact as he was, Ibex was fast. It was something that everyone, even Bishop , seemed to forget. Bishop made a noise between a shout and a wheeze as Ibex dove forwards, shoulder slamming into his stomach and taking him off his feet. Both disappeared into the tent. Ibex heard Charlie curse before following them.
Any man with the wind knocked out of him would need a minute at least to recover. Not Bishop however. Ibex dodged what would have been a nasty kick to the head and grabbed his friend by the boot, dragging him to the middle of the floor. Bishop squawked and scrabbled at the dirt, reaching for anything that could be used as a weapon. Ibex ducked as a flashlight hit the wall above his head, cursing. Bishop used the pause to leap into a crouch, knife instinctively drawn.
“Fucker.” He spat, breath coming fast and hard. “What was that for??”
“Hand’s bleeding.” Ibex said, pointing to the bandage.
The idiot looked. He actually looked. Ibex dove forwards again, seizing Bishop by the wrist and slamming his thankfully uninjured hand into the tent post until the knife dropped. Bishop made to twist away, but Ibex yanked hard. Bishop was jerked forwards, slamming into him. Ibex went with the momentum, allowing them both to fall and snaking his arms under Bishop’s, hands locking behind his neck. It was amazing the sunglasses had stayed in place. Ibex gritted his teeth when Bishop's boot kicked back into him. He managed to get a knee across his hips to try and halt the struggle.
“Charlie.” Ibex snarled. Though his arms were locked above him, Bishop’s hands were still very active and grasping for violence despite their limited movement.
Ibex had chosen well. Charlie was fast and quiet, and he even took a kick to the knee. He was smart too. The first kick made him curse. The second he dodged and then dropped onto Bishop, pinning his legs down before uncapping the syringe. Bishop bucked and managed to yelp “WAIT-!” before it turned into a sharp cry of pain as Charlie jammed the needle into his thigh.
Quickly as he’d joined the fray, Charlie was out of it, bolting back out through the tent like he’d never been there. Smart kid.
Bishop had gone limp, though Ibex still made certain not to loosen his hold until he was certain Bishop’s heart rate and breathing had slowed and he wasn’t actually playing dead and waiting to get a good swing in. He could be tricky.
“Fucking asshole.” Bishop moaned from behind his bandana.
“Drama queen.” Ibex chuckled, letting him go and ruffling his hair. “You bitched less when you got shot last year.”
Bishop lay on the floor, completely bedraggled. Ibex wasn’t in any rush to go anywhere. He didn’t mind sitting with him a bit to catch his own breath again. The bandage would definitely have to be changed, and maybe one or two stitches redone. Sometimes it amazed Ibex just how dramatic Bishop could be about the little things. He reached over and dropped a green lollipop onto Bishop’s chest.
“Susan says you’re an idiot by the way.”
With a shaky hand Bishop lifted the lollipop and studied it. “You know I hate lime.” he said tiredly.
“Don’t be such an idiot next time and maybe you can have grape.”