Reynolds's eyes opened once more, but she was feeling uncomfortable. Since when did the bed feel so hard under her? She glanced down and noticed that she was lying on the floor. But it wasn't the floor in her room, it was stone. Her face feeling puffed and numb, she forced herself through the pain to understand her location.
She cursed under her breath. She was back to her mission in Kazakhstan which she thought she had completed. A couple pair of boots appeared in front of her and started nudging her to get up, but she couldn't. They grabbed her from her hair and dragged her across the harsh stone floor. She squealed loudly holding her head trying to lessen the pain as much as possible. She bumped with a thud against the wall as they threw her across what looked like a jail cell.
"You bitch thought you can fuck me over?!" a man snarled.
That voice was so familiar, but she couldn't put a name to his face. It was on the tip of her tongue; she was so sure she recognised him. However, the thought process was soon interrupted as a pair of heavy-duty combat boots met with her stomach. She coughed up some blood and grunted. A flurry of punches hit her face, blinding her completely. Stars appeared and her vision started blurring in her peripheral.
"I know that you were the one who stole my data!"
Al-Jabbar.
The fucker was dead. She killed him. How was he there talking to her?
A boot stomped on her right ribs, knocking the wind out of her. The pain sent shockwaves through her body. Pins and needles were felt in her extremities and yet, she still felt numb. Her survival rate was dropping before eyes she did not know if she was going to endure the beating.
"Who was the man who was with you?!"
Her lips curved in an evil smile. "There was no one with me."
"He had a mohawk. You were sticking your tongue down his throat. Didn't seem like no one."
Tears were streaming down her face as she was thrown to other side of the room by her hair once more. A groan escaped her lips as she felt being choked by her own blood. She reached out her hand towards the exit as if magically she was going to be teleported out of that miserable place.
"I will find who he is and gut him. Do you fucking understand me?!"
"No..." she spluttered. "Kill me instead."
"You're not leaving sweetheart," Al-Jabbar snarled. "You'll die here..."
Her eyes snapped open, and Reynolds gasped. She looked out the window as the sun was peering through. She was back in her room again.
Fuckin' nightmares...
She used her last drop of strength to sit up, the bed soaked in her sweat. Tears were falling freely as she realised that the pain was only getting worse. She had to swallow her pride and visit the medical centre for some strong pain relief.
What seemed like forever, she managed to get out of the building. All was left, was to cross the expanse of tarmac and arrive at the med centre.
She used all her focus to put one step in front of another. She moved forward, groaning with pain as shocks of agony tore through her body.
Suddenly, her body gave out, refusing to move any further. She fell to her knee, breathing heavily trying with all her effort to ease the pain. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead forcing her hair to stick to her face.
A crunching noise sounded from behind and a pair of boots halted to her side. Grunting, she looked up slowly and saw a skull mask looking back at her.
"Didn't peg you for the religious type, Sergeant," remarked Ghost, coolly.
Reynolds did not have neither the patience nor the strength left to deal with the lieutenant's nonsense. She ignored him and tried to get up on her feet again but to no avail. They trembled under her weight and collapsed on her knee again with a groan.
Ghost observed her pale skin underneath the purplish-blue bruises that painted her face and neck. Her left eye was so swollen that he doubted she was managing to see anything through it. Particularly he noticed her holding her right side as if trying to support it.
"Do you need help?"
"No."
"Suit yourself."
He turned on his heel and started strolling away.
"Wait!" she called out to him.
He returned and kneeled beside her.
"Yes?"
"I need your help to get to the medical centre," she uttered through gritted teeth.
"What's the magic word?"
"...please."
He chuckled and placed his arm underneath hers and lifted her up with ease.
"What do you have there?"
He pointed towards her right ribs. He went to check it out, but she retreated. Callously, he swatted her hand away and she flinched. Ghost lifted her t-shirt up and pursed his lips. Purple bruises mapped her whole right side with a specific pattern that looked peculiarly close to the underneath of a combat boot.
"I think that's a size 42," he continued casually. "I guess I did not push you enough during the CQB training."
He held her from the waist and helped her towards the med centre. She was dragging her feet, and he felt her get weaker by the second. She stopped suddenly and rested her head on his shoulder.
"G-Ghost," she stammered, "the p-pain... it's too much..."
Reynolds collapsed on Ghost, and he grabbed her instantly, falling slowly to the ground.
"Christianne?" he yelled, slapping her firmly on her cheek trying to force her regain consciousness but only a whimper escaped her lips.
He slipped his arm underneath her knees and carried her hastily across the tarmac. He opened the swinging doors with his back and called for the doctor. A nurse hurriedly brought a gurney with a doctor alongside her.
"What happened?" asked the doctor.
"Multiple contusions and possible fractured ribs on her right side. She lost consciousness on the way here, complaining about the pain."
The doctor stopped Ghost as she put on her gloves.
"We got it from here, Lieutenant."
Ghost stopped at the doors that accessed the ward, observing as they wheeled her in.
Meat was calmly reading a book when he heard a sudden commotion. He saw Reynolds being pushed into one of the ward rooms further down from his. The nurse was already pushing an IV line as the doctor closed the curtain around them. He cursed inwardly and prayed that it was nothing serious.
MacTavish was organising his kit and checking that everything was in working order when his door opened. An unusual scene developed in front of him as he saw Ghost visibly upset about something.
"You ok mate?" he asked.
"I just carried an unconscious Reynolds to the med centre," he replied, annoyed.
MacTavish's fingers paused over one of his pouches as he processed what he had just heard. "Jesus, she never listens that one. I ordered her to go yesterday."
"Bloody stubborn. She collapsed on me mid-way. If I wasn't there, she would still be lying in the middle of the tarmac."
MacTavish jaw pulsed angrily. That sergeant never bloody listened. "How did you know she was there?"
"After your remark yesterday, I decided to keep an eye on her, that's all. Good thing that I did," he mumbled. "She had a large bloody print on her ribs."
"How do you know? She did not even let me check out her wounds."
"I forced myself on her."
MacTavish raised his eyebrows and Ghost scoffed.
"Not like that!"
He chuckled and continued rearranging the kit. "You need to choose better words mate."
Ghost looked lost in thought as he unconsciously fixed his mask.
"What are you thinking about?"
"That this PMC is going to be much more hassle than I previously thought."
The next day, MacTavish decided to pay Meat a visit and check on Reynolds. Meat was in very high spirits, and his leg was healing nicely. Even though he was not 100% recovered, he would be discharged soon and back to work in no time.
"What happened to Reynolds?" asked Meat. "She looks in pretty bad shape."
"Went on a mission for Cobalt, came back battered," MacTavish simply replied.
He fist bumped Meat and walked a few beds down. Reynolds was resting peacefully. Who could blame her? The pain probably drained the last remaining strength that she had.
He grabbed a chair and sat next to her, scrolling on his phone.
Reynolds shifted slightly and her eyes opened, blinking a few times to clear her vision. Her gaze rested on MacTavish and frowned.
"Captain..." she murmured.
"Good morning, Sergeant. How are you feeling?"
"Much better, thank you."
"You look good for someone who loves to indirectly tell her superior office to fuck off," he smiled sarcastically.
She shifted uncomfortably and avoided his piercing stare. MacTavish got up and sat next to her on the bed.
"When I give you an order to go to medical, it does not mean you ignore it," he scowled. "The chain of command is there so that subordinates obey the orders. That means, that your superior evaluated the situation, and it is in your best interest to follow those orders."
"I am not going to argue with you," she raised her arms in surrender.
"That's a first."
"This happened to me before and the pain died down with time. I thought it was going to be the same thing."
"How often does this happen?" he asked quietly.
"It's the job Captain," she replied sounding aggravated. "It's the same for the 141 as well."
She jerked her head towards Meat's direction.
"Fair enough. Does that mean that you will follow orders without any issue from now onwards?" he asked, with his eyebrows raised.
"If they make sense, sure," she shrugged.
MacTavish pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh.
"You tire me, Reynolds."
He got up and went on his way leaving Reynolds sporting a playful grin.