Radio
• Masterlist •
Warnings: War settings, stitches, sedating, nightmares, mentioned gun.
General lay on the cot, their body weary from the recent injury sustained in the field. This was the first time in years that they had been forced to rest for more than a day, and the restlessness was worse than the war. Their eyes fixated on the radio in the corner. Sighing, they slid slightly to the edge of the cot.
"Don't even think about jumping out of that bed," Medic entered the room, throwing their bag down with a thud, their tone leaving no room for argument. "You're injured, and you're going to stay put until you're healed."
General rolled their eyes, knowing there was no point in arguing with Medic. They weren't exactly known for their bedside manners. But well, General was the worst patient they could have. If they could walk more than a minute, they would be back on the frontlines.
"Hello to you too," General sighed, glancing at the radio sitting on the nearby table. "I hope your day was well."
Medic snorted in annoyance. "I was stranded with the politicians. Can't trust half of what they say." They eyed General. "You're better off focusing on getting yourself back in shape instead of sitting on the edge. Your troops are waiting for any news they could have on you."
"I know," General replied, a hint of frustration in their voice. "Are they well? What were they doing with politicians?"
Medic grunted. "Look, worrying won't do you any good. You need to heal, and then you can ask about them. But until then, they'll manage without you for a little while."
As the clock ticked, General's restlessness grew. The prison disguised as the infirmary walls felt suffocating, and the distant sound of gunfire, real or not, only heightened their unease. They reached out, hesitating for a moment before turning the knob. The radio crackled to life, and General's heart raced as they listened intently to the roll call. Each name that was called sent waves of relief or anxiety crashing through their battered body.
"Team, report in."
There was a pause, then a voice came through the static. It was their squad, and they eagerly waited for their voices.
But before the call started, Medic burst back into the room, anger flashing.
"What are you doing?" Medic snapped, storming over to the radio and snatching it away. "You know you're not supposed to be listening to this."
General clenched their fists. "I just wanted to know if they were alright. I needed to—."
Medic shook their head, their voice tinged with disappointment. "You can't risk your recovery for this. You have to trust that they're doing their job. Now, lie down and try to rest. I have other things to do, and you only heal when you truly rest."
-•-
The room was bathed in the dim glow of moonlight as the night settled in, casting long shadows across the walls. Medic had dozed off on the empty cot near General's, their exhaustion catching up to them. But as the night deepened, a noise stirred them from their sleep.
Medic's eyes opened in an instant, scanning the room for the source of the disturbance. And there, on the cot, General was thrashing, hands clasping their wound. The sight sent a jolt of panic through Medic, and they hurried over to General's side.
"General, wake up!" Medic's voice was urgent as they gently shook the disoriented officer. "You're having a nightmare. It's okay, but you have to stop."
General's eyes snapped open with pain, their gaze unfocused and lost. They murmured incoherent words, their voice strained with worry and confusion. "They didn't answer the roll call... Where are they? Are they okay?"
Medic's heart sank as they realized General's state of mind. They were reliving the battlefield, their mind trapped in a moment of uncertainty and fear. With a mixture of guilt and determination, Medic spoke softly, their words carrying empty reassurance without proof.
"General, listen to me. You're not there anymore. You're with me, and you're safe." Medic's voice trembled slightly as they tried to comfort their wounded charge. "Your squad is doing their duty, just like you taught them. They're strong, and they'll come back. You trust them, don't you? They can take care of themselves."
General's eyes searched Medic's face, their gaze clouded with confusion. "Trust... Yes, I trust them. They're... good soldiers. Always... have been."
Medic nodded, their hands instinctively reaching to General's reopened wound. "That's right, General. They're doing their part, and you need to do yours."
Medic prepared a sedative, preparing themselves for stitching the wound back together.
-•-
Night had passed, and the sun began to cast its golden rays upon the world once again. In the small makeshift office, Commander sat across from Medic
"How is General doing?" Commander asked, their voice filled with genuine worry. "We have limited information from the frontline, but I know how much they rely on knowing what's happening."
Medic hesitated for a moment, not having the heart to tell Commander that they snapped at one of their well-known military officers.
"General seemed to relax after the roll call," they settled with the answer, their tone carefully neutral. "They're still on medication, so they might need a bit more time to wake up fully. But they're stable."
Commander nodded, their eyes flickering with understanding. "You know, ever since the war started, knowing what's happening has been General's way of coping. When they were too injured to fight, we would talk to them and update them on the situation. It helped keep their spirits up and gave them a sense of control."
"I... didn't know," Medic replied, guilt clawing at their throat.
"That's fair. General is a very reserved person."
"Does it have anything to do with..."
"The scars? Yes. Mostly." Commander sighed, looking around. "Our squad is specialized in gathering information, and we often do the first contact with whoever we're against. Do you remember how this war started?"
Medic nodded, remembering the news of a high-ranking officer being taken hostage and tortured, the first mission marching on the enemy and taking them back home...
"They couldn't recover for a long time, and we were called to the frontline. General was kept in the loop with a radio, and we got used to giving detailed reports over it." Commander chuckled. "To a point where it annoyed the temporary commanding officer we were assigned to until General came back." They turned away. "I believe that's enough. General won't like that we talked behind their back."
"They should be awake now, and they would probably appreciate some updates about the front."
-•-
General was semi-conscious as Commander entered, a warm smile on their face, and sat down beside the cot. They didn't need to be formal, battle after battle dismissing their ranks when they were alone.
"Hey, General," Commander greeted, their voice laced with genuine care. "How are you feeling?"
General's gaze shifted to Commander, a mix of exhaustion and gratitude in their eyes. "I'm tired, but that's not new."
"Good thing that I'm saving you from this misery, then." Commander took General's fruit. "The frontline is preparing for an attack, and this place is staying out of the radio's range. We wouldn't want our best to be in the dark, so you're coming with us."
General closed their eyes tiredly, just taking the water since they struggled to keep things down.
"I can't," they answered despite their mind yearning to say otherwise. "I'm afraid I'm not fit for battle."
As if reading their mind, Commander held their arm, keeping an assuring tone. "You're not going to be a liability for us, and maybe it'll finally keep you in the war room instead of running straight into the bullets."
