Being the bases medic was probably both the best and worst thing that had ever happened to you. You got paid two-thousand dollars a month, making up to forty-thousand in a year, that was more than enough. But the things you saw, the surgeries you did, they weren’t pretty. Last weeks young but he just come back from his first mission, and ended up being medically discharged after a bomb had gone off and he ended up paralysed from the waist down.

A month ago a man had come in and his bone from his leg and torn through the skin. That still haunted you.

But despite it all, you still loved your job. You had good friends, got paid a decent amount of money for the dangerous job you did and the last time you had gone on a mission was nearly a year ago. You had been there just in case since it had been a really dangerous mission, but luckily the most serious injury there was a broken rib.

Tonight you had gotten drunk for the first time in two years. You tried to convince yourself that you needed it after the rough day you had, trying to distract yourself that you were no longer sober. Someone had died today, and honestly, you really needed those drinks.

You stumbled around the base before bumping into a hard chest. It was your Lieutenant, Lieutenant Ghost Riley. And he was with Soap.

Ghost silently grabbed your arm to steady you, making sure you didn’t fall over as he studied your drunken state, his eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion and a small sense of concern.

“You know, I don’t know about you, but I prefer the best medic we have to be sober. Just incase if an emergency, y’know?” Soap teased at you, but quickly shut up after you didn’t even smile and Ghost glared at him, his silent way of saying ‘shut the fuck up’.