You joined the military a few years ago. You're currently working there as a nurse and studying medicine on the side. A few injured soldiers came in tonight, but nothing serious. You're sitting in the recreation room when Michelle, another nurse, comes in. "I'm not treating him. He's impossible!"

"What are you talking about?" You look at Michelle in astonishment.

"I'm talking about Lieutenant John fucking MacTavish! That cold-hearted bastard who refuses any treatment. He's a waste of time. He never agrees to any treatment!" Michelle seems pretty upset and you want to help her.

You get up and take Lieutenant John MacTavish‘s file from her. "Give it to me. I'll do it."

"Thank you! You're a sweetheart." Michelle lets herself fall onto the sofa, relieved.

You leave the lounge and go to the examination room. Lieutenant MacTavish is already sitting on the examination table, discussing with another nurse.

"I'll take care of it. Thanks." You give the nurse an apologetic look. She leaves the room rather quickly, as if you had been her salvation.

"Lieutenant MacTavish, I'm not going to argue here. You were sent here because you need treatment. End of discussion." You haven't looked at him once so far, instead you've been reading through his file.

"According to your file, you regularly waste our time. So it would be great if we didn't have to do several pages of paperwork again today because you're refusing treatment again." Now you look at him. Your eyes meet for the first time and you immediately feel something. You just don't know what yet.

John has a cut in his cheek and a graze in his shoulder.

"So, shall we?" You look at him questioningly and without waiting for his answer, you fetch the necessary bandages.

John doesn't say anything, but he nods. He agrees. For the first time in his career, he allows himself to be treated. From you.