Most of the Taslim family worked in medicine but with different flavors. Ethan was an Expeditioner, and their whole deal was providing medical care even when the world was crumbling around them. It was military medicine, though, which functioned differently than the hospital dramas you'd watch on TV. Mom and Miranda on the other hand were Traveling Healers. Their care was more intimate, primarily intended for those living in extreme poverty or in similar circumstances. Other than the occasional threat of domestic terrorist groups, rebels, and other deviants, danger wasn’t a part of the job.

  Victor was square in the middle as a very unique team healer. Thanks to Overseer, he tasted both intense combat and rigorous civilian care. However, not all of his operations involved, hypothetically-speaking, parachuting deep into enemy territory and not all of his patients lived in abject squalor. Yet compared to his family, he was a boring healer working in privileged conditions. Sure, being a healer in the Angels Guild was fucking awesome, but he only had basic certifications and minimal experience to his name. Everybody around him was so much more impressive, and despite being in the Special Task Force, he was painfully average.

  It also didn’t help who his supervisor was.

  hospital boss

  i found a cat

  [image]

  cat

  ??

  Lia graduated medical school when she was nineteen, and she was in her fifth and final year in residency for general reconstruction (but she had “a decade left to go”). This was, apparently according to everyone in the hospital, the next Commander of the Medical & Hospital Force. Probably helped that Sundrop was basically her adoptive mom.

  Seems like everyone in Angels Guild was a prodigy.

  That especially included his team.

  “—that’s what happened. Do you know what could’ve caused it—? Hey, stop looking at your phone!”

  “Sorry, I…” Obeying, he placed his phone away and read over Kotone's chart again. Nothing actually important because team gossip wasn’t considered medical information. “Okay, I’m not as invested in Alex’s love-life as you guys, but does this somehow involve your psi-migraines that you’ve been reporting?”

  “Huh?”

  “Migraines.” Vic tapped a pen against his head, then gestured to the rest of the clinic. “You’re here for migraines caused by your psionic [Skills]. You said they were really freakin’ debilitating.”

  “Yeah, but we should talk about Silverhonor and why she ran away. Is it because of me? I mean, I was staring at her cute elf-ears a lot, but that’s normal! That’s… Okay, am I being creepy? I’m not a creep, right?”

  Vic resisted the urge to write “major brain damage” in the chart. Speaking of mental notes, he should have a nice and long conversation with Alex about Leo and Silverhonor (in other words, he was gonna punch the shit outta him). Of all the guys in the world, of course this asshole got himself into a complicated relationship with two of the most popular women in the city. But that wasn’t here nor there.

  *

  “—it’s a multi-layered curse system outfitted with so many countermeasures that it’s nigh-impossible to unravel. I’ve spent thousands of hours researching my own body and attempting to solve my self-affliction piece-by-piece but to no success. I very well may stay as a child for the next few decades—”

  “Morgan, dude.”

  The next sword in the clinic was a child whose health problems were beyond Victor’s current expertise. Biologically, Morgan was a Slayer and a child younger than fourteen—the minimum age required to [Register]—yet clearly had a fully-developed PPS. That by itself was fucked, yet with the additional complications caused by his curse? It was an actual nightmare. A case-study to end all case-studies. Just where would Morgan go for treatment? Systemic pediatrics? Just plain systemics? At some point, these questions needed to be answered before Morgan experienced his first medical emergency.

  Morgan lifted his head, staring at the healer. “What is it? You asked if I can describe the curse a little bit.”

  “Yeah, and you immediately started going into the minutiae of curse magic, man.” Vic clicked his tongue and his pen at the same time. “You said you felt sudden pains across your PPS, I asked if the curse has anything to do with that—”

  “I confirmed your suspicions, you had gotten curious, and I attempted to appease your curiosity.”

  “Pretty much. So…?”

  Morgan sighed and adjusted his robes. “Constant swelling pains is one of the negative consequences of my curse. My last episode was worse than usual, so I hoped to pick your ear about obtaining…certain medications.”

  That’s prolly the worst way he could’ve asked that. “Adult painkillers?”

  Morgan groaned from embarrassment and hunched over, rubbing his small hands together. “If you can. I understand if it’s not possible. Over the years, I tried numerous methods but because I’m biologically a child, some medication is out-of-the-question. Legally, anyhow.”

  “I get that, man. I was just thinking earlier: if-slash-when you have a medical emergency, I’d have no idea how to explain this to Sundrop or any of our other healers—wait, did you mention something about legality?”

  “What about legality?”

  Victor briefly put his pen and paper down. “Morgan, dude, please tell me you haven’t been popping pills from a backstreet dealer.”

  Morgan thought about the question for a few seconds—he should not be thinking for that long! “I would use kinder words than ‘backstreet dealer.’”

  “What the fuck, dude.”

  “I was hoping I could obtain the same meds through better channels.”

  “‘Better channels’—? It’s the only acceptable channel! Oh my God, you’re almost as bad as Overseer smuggling weapons through customs!”

  “Eh, he has papers.”

  “You don’t!”

  *

  “What the hell does Rector mean by ‘record any abnormalities’? What abnormalities am I supposed to record? What is considered ‘normal’ in the first freaking place? These guys aren’t normal—”

  "What’s that?” Aiden chirped on the other side of the room with Chie sitting next to him. “What did you say, doc? Speak up. Don’t mutter.”

  Chie whacked his shoulder. “Don’t bully him! We need a check-up until—” (“I know.”) “—it’s either Vic or Sundrop, and I don’t want Sundrop!”

  Vic defeatedly whistled as he finely combed through Rector's printed orders, making sure to not miss a single detail. “I feel ya. There’s people who love their job, but Sundrop? She’s on a whole ‘nother level. The other day, I was observing a total back reconstruction surgery. We had a breaker whose back was crushed by a car or something. Like, crushed crushed, man. Gnarly shit, and Sundrop was smiling under her mask—”

  When he looked up, Chie was visibly pale while Aiden was pleasantly interested. Night and day. Guess opposites really do attract.

  Vic cleared his throat and approached the couple, putting on the metaphorical doctor’s coat. “Okay, moving on. I’m gonna be honest with you guys: I have no idea what I’m supposed to look for.”

  Aiden’s interest turned into a frightening, burning scowl. “You’re the team healer. Ain’t this your job?”

  “Well, yeah, but the average team healer doesn’t deal with that and its implications.” Vic pointed to Aiden’s blackened scar glowing through his shirt. “And according to the guidelines Rector gave me, I’m working with very limited information. So if we wanna finish this sooner, work with me? Please?”

  “Why should we help you—?”

  “We’ll do our best to answer!”

  “Chie—”

  She pinched and twisted her boyfriend’s arm and made him cry like a little baby. Alex really wasn’t kidding; this girl could throw the whole team around like ragdolls. “We’ll give detailed answers.”

  Aiden pulled away from his girlfriend and moved to the next empty seat, hilariously wary of a girl a foot shorter than him. “Yes-or-no answers.”

  A vein popped in Chie’s forehead. “You can ask anything you want.”

  Steam huffed through Aiden’s nose. “Ask anything inappropriate and you’re gonna need Sundrop.”

  “Run any tests if you need to.”

  “If you put a needle near me, it’s going in your ass.”

  “Sedation is on the table.”

  “Try it, and you’re going to the grave.”

  Victor stared at them for what felt like years. I’m going to lose it.

  ***

  “Overseer, sir!” Vic luckily caught his commander sitting outside the Wings, enjoying a fresh cup of cafeteria coffee and the scene of moving swords and corpos. “I, uh, I have something important to discuss, mhm.”

  Overseer gestured to an empty spot on the bench, and Vic obediently sat down. “Can we talk about this in public?”

  Shit, I didn’t think about that. “Erm, I think so? It’s about the last few check-ups I performed, so it’s nothing that serious. I mean, it is serious but not, like, top-secret confidential. Yeah.” I totally fucked that up.

  Overseer ignored his confused ramblings and said, “We’re doing our best to accommodate Problem, but we might have to investigate other methods to give him what he needs. Safely. We don't know what medicines can affect his curse.”

  “No, sir, it’s not that. It’s…” Vic exhaled. How long would it take for him to handle a simple discussion with Overseer without feeling jitters in his arms or legs? Talking with Rector and Sundrop wasn’t as bad as talking to him, a decorated Master Sergeant who looked like an accountant.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Vic pushed out the next few words: “It’s about the team in general, sir.”

  Overseer slowly nodded.

  After taking another breath (and maybe his last), Vic explained, “I… I can’t provide the best care under our current SOPs, sir. A quarter of the team has…weird constitutions and I’m scrambling to figure out the best path. I’m concerned that if something bad happens—God forbid—we might not respond well. I understand our GMs have their own concerns, but as the team healer, I just need… I don’t know, more? Information, tools, procedures, y'know?"

  Somehow, he didn’t completely stumble over his words. Heck, he even sounded a little professional. However, Overseer’s expression didn’t change throughout his explanation. It stayed stoic, oppressively focused on the bystanders passing them.

  His fingers drummed his coffee-cup, and he licked his lips. “Alright. What would you recommend?”

  Okay, this is a start! Think! You thought about this before… “Uh, well, for starters… A majority of the team is normal. We don’t need to do anything fancy other than account for certain conditions.” Alex, Kotone. “We should emphasize our special members. Rector had his own procedures but that’s before the STF was founded. We need to straighten that out.” Aiden, Chie, Rei. “For our people with abnormal biology, we gotta figure out the best care so I can start learning how to properly treat them.” Morgan, and maybe Aiden and Chie.

  Overseer hummed—what the hell did that mean?!—and checked his watch. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll talk about this in my office and get the ball rolling.”

  “R-Really? I—okay! We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Overseer patted his legs and stood, his knees cracking as he did. “Unfortunately, my mandated break is about done—”

  A familiar face approached the duo, and it wasn’t someone from the team or the hospital. In fact, after what happened during the celebration party a couple months ago, this was the last place his brother should be. Back then, Victor and Ethan spoke about what happened. Ethan had mostly confirmed the same details as Alex but argued his actions were justified, and annoyingly, Alex was just as much of a hardass. So they never really reconciled—they never talked since then, anyway—but to suddenly see Ethan here was…

  “What’re you doing here, Ethan?” Vic asked, his voice breaking between confusion and anxiety.

  “I was in the area and I thought I’d visit, but…” Ethan turned to Overseer and politely smiled. “You’re the team commander, correct? Ethan Taslim.”

  Ethan lent his hand, and Overseer firmly shook it.

  “Overseer. I recall talking with your father about a thing or two.”

  “Yessir, he loves his sons and wants to make sure they’re in good hands. And uh…” Ethan pensively pressed his lips while eyeing down the older soldier. “You are Alex’s uncle, right? I would like to extend my late apologies.”

  He was apologizing…?

  Overseer was cold and machine-steady. His head wasn’t moving. Was he even breathing at all? “My nephew has much larger things to worry about, so let’s have bygones be bygones, yes?”

  Ethan, the badass in the family, gulped. “Yessir, we will. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but it’s surprising to see a Marine in-charge of so many different swords. Including my brother.”

  “Weirder things have happened,” said Overseer, disinterested and off-putting.

  “Mhm…”

  What the hell is going on now? Victor, against what little common sense he had, faked a cough. “I think, uh, I think we should get back to work. I’ll see you later, Ethan.”

  Overseer nodded. “We have a lot of work to do.”

  “Right.” Ethan discreetly scratched his arm. “Sorry for bothering you, sir. I hope the best for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  As fast as he appeared, Ethan was already walking away with a jitter in his step. How… How do you process what just happened? Vic was no expert in military culture, but even he knew this exchange was strange and that’s the best way of putting things. Was Ethan fishing for more information, or…?

  “How much do you know about your brother?” Overseer asked, never keeping his eyes off Ethan’s back.

  Vic stammered, “I-I don’t know. Nothing important? He’s an Expeditioner, and they’re not usually public about their operations. Uh, he did rescue a CF team one time.”

  Overseer immediately turned toward him, alarm in his weathered eyes. “He did?”

  “Yeah…? Dr. Nightingale told us herself. Is that bad, or…?”

  It took an uncomfortably long while for Overseer to respond: “No. I was just curious, that’s all. Does he ask a lot of questions about the Special Task Force?”

  How did he know that? “I didn’t tell him anything substantial, but yeah. Since the party a couple months ago, he’s been pretty interested in the team.”

  “I see. We need to have a more pressing conversation. In my office.”

  Huh?

  ***

  A cold energy drink was balanced on top of his head. “You look like crap, slave.”

  Vic lightly brushed Lia’s hand away, mumbling and grumbling, and she set the bottle next to him on the table. “So does everyone else in the hospital. Even the cockroaches. You’re, like, the shining example of chronically-exhausted, Lia."

  Lia popped a can of cold coffee and pleasurably sipped. Her pale cheeks were already warm with caffeine. “I make ‘chronically-exhausted’ look sexy, Victor.” Not...totally wrong. “I’m the female version of Rector, just without the dark skin and ridiculously maintained hair and jewelry.”

  At least you’re prettier than him. “But with constant death threats?”

  “You don’t truly understand the depth of humanity’s idiocy unless you work in an hospital.” Lia fell on a comfortable stool, swiveled around so her back faced him, and set her coffee aside. She tapped her shoulders. “Anyway, massage me.”

  Vic decided to take a page outta Lia's book and instead went in the opposite direction of death threats: I’m killing myself today. Actually. “Again? Dude, why—”

  Lia tapped again but with more force. “Shoulders. Massage. Please.”

  “Why? Massage? Now?”

  “Surgery. Scheduled soon. Long one. Do it. Slave.”

  Despite being the best hospital in the city, there wasn’t enough money in the budget to purchase an arsenal of massage guns. Shoulder fatigue was a serious problem during healing treatment—healers had to lift their arms and maintain the position throughout the entire procedure without rest—so Lia’s pain was understandable. But relentlessly asking him to massage her shoulders was… Well, it was actual slave-work.

  “Dammit. Fine, okay.”

  Like always, Vic blinked first and reluctantly stood behind the small "nun" (was it blasphemy to wear a habit despite not belonging to a church?). Regardless, he didn't know why he kept bowing down to her constant needy, even bratty, needs. Massages were outside his expertise, like many things lately, but apparently he was so good with his fingers that Lia kept coming back for more (phrasing). It was prolly unprofessional and likely suspicious, but boss’s orders. The first time he’d done this, he had been nothing but self-conscious for obvious reasons—cute girl, getting caught, don't get excited—yet after a couple months of her nonsense…

  Let’s just say he was becoming more and more like Alex, and that was fucking terrible. Don’t be like Alex.

  Lia said, “Be easy with my right shoulder. It’s been tender lately—ah?!”

  …Okay. Maybe he should’ve waited a few seconds before rushing into things. Despite the accident, her sudden cry struck a satisfying cord within his head. In a normal way that wasn’t sadistic, and even normally, his first instinct was to apologize. Before he could squeak however, Lia arched her back and pulled away, groaning under her breath. She scowled, cheeks flushed with pain and embarrassment, and she hesitantly leaned into him again. Huh. No harsh words? Just gonna ignore that happened? Okay.

  Slowly, gently, tenderly, his hands dug into her shoulders. This time, tension melted away in her muscles and she hissed a quiet, happy sigh. That’s what Victor interpreted anyway.

  “Hey.” Lia tilted her head up and the expression on her face was… It was a little too suggestive given what they were doing. “What’s bothering you, slave?”

  Vic cleared his throat a couple times and stared at the drinks on the table.

  “Don’t get shy on me—” Lia grunted after his fingers rubbed a good spot. Not an innocent sound belonging to not an innocent face. “Y-You were clearly bothered about something earlier.”

  Why would she care about that? “STF stuff.” And family stuff. “Being a team healer is more difficult than I thought it’d be.”

  “Heh, I can imagine. Every time that heiress talks to me, I get the sudden urge to strangle her—” Vic pinched her shoulders and forced her to look straight ahead. Finally, he could breathe. “Ow?! Tch, I won’t take back what I said. She should be the bitchy nun and I should be the bubbly big sister.”

  Ignoring her, Vic resumed regular treatment. “I’m gonna borrow something my commander said earlier: weirder things have happened.”

  “I’m not envious of your position anyway.” Lia relaxed her shoulders and leaned more into him. “Dealing with a team full of divas and case studies will actually kill me.”

  She’s not wrong. “I’m working through ‘em. Just, I dunno, it feels strange being the only ‘normal’ guy on the team. Everyone around me is a prodigy or prodigy-adjacent. We have martial artists, geniuses, freaks of nature. Then there’s me, Victor, who hasn’t gone through what they had or have the same gifts they got.”

  Lia went quiet for a couple seconds, chewing on her lip in contemplation (and probably pleasure). She knew she was one of them: a prodigy. “Is it imposter syndrome or something?”

  “I don’t know.” His hands were moving on auto-pilot, now, his mind thinking about everything. “I haven’t figured out if I wanna chase a degree like you, but more than anything, I’m… I’m kinda scared, Lia. There’s so much beneath the surface that I’m at a loss. I don’t have the skills or knowledge or the tools to understand everybody—like fuck, my best friend went through an emergency and I didn’t even notice it! If disaster strikes—when it strikes—I don’t think I can take care of everyone and that’s terrifying. I’ve been reading books and articles but nothing’s clicking. It keeps me up at night, man. It's fucked.”

  By the time he was done ranting, he realized he wasn’t massaging Lia’s shoulders anymore. Just... His hands were there, doing nothing but touching a pretty girl.

  He took them off. “S-Sorry, I should—”

  Lia hopped off the stool.

  Great, she must be pissed at me. I knew it was a bad idea to suddenly complain ‘bout everything—

  Lia looped her arms around his neck and suddenly he was nuzzling the crook of her collarbone. Her habit’s soft fabric tickled his cheeks and an overwhelming heat instantly boiled inside his core. Victor was paralyzed from his limbs to tongue, unable to fight against the smaller, weaker girl. All he felt was her warmth and snaking arms: one around his back and the other against his head, keeping him pinned against her.

  “Huh…” he creaked out, the first sign of life. “L-Lia—?”

  “I’m…not good at emotional talks like these,” she softly said, embracing him tighter. “But you looked like you needed a hug, slave.”

  Lia had unlocked the floodgates. Everything rushed in: the late-nights spent studying, the many hours brainstorming, the frustration built from reports and requests and charts, the insanity of the Special Task Force—all entered, burned his nerves, and Lia melted away his woes and left behind only tenderness that covered his heart in warm oil. Did…. Did hugs always feel this good?

  Victor surrendered himself in the feeling.

  He didn’t know how long the hug lasted, but when Lia pulled away, he knew it wasn’t long enough.

  “Hug’s over.” Lia was facing away from him, most of her face pink and heated like his. “I… Don’t expect something like this again, okay? Not for another twenty-four hours at least. I thought it’d be fair since you massage my shoulders so much.”

  Victor’s throat was parched, and he was hungrily looking at his energy drink. “Y-Yeah. I getcha.”

  “But you can talk with me. I won’t promise another hug at the end, but I promise I’ll listen. We have a tough, oftentimes thankless job, so we need to be there for each other. And... Yeah, you get what I mean.”

  “Yeah, kinda, but thanks. I, uh, I appreciate that.”

  “Mhm.”

  An agonizing second passed.

  Lia turned around completely. “I should get ready for the surgery.”

  “Right, text me if you need anything.”

  “Maybe!”

  Lia was gone.

  …She left her coffee here—

  Lia came back to the room. “Forgot my coffee.”

  And she was gone again.

  Okay.

  Maybe Victor shouldn’t immediately punch Alex because of his love-life. Once he heard about this, God, Vic wouldn’t hear the end of it.

  *

  “So yeah, that happened.”

  I pointed and laughed.