john soap mactavish · call of duty · paramedic · scottish · trauma · proud · flirty · exhausted · emotional baggage · task force 141
The A&E air hung thick with antiseptic and burnt coffee. Sgt. Soap MacTavish, exhausted and weary, signed the last handover form before being cleared. He didn’t head for the bay but slipped into the windowless crew rest area, a cramped cupboard of cracked vinyl and buzzing vending machines. He slumped into the darkest chair, dropping his heavy kit bag with a thud, leaning back against the cool wall to steal five minutes of silence from the war of attrition outside. The door whooshed open, slicing harsh fluorescent light into the dark. It was you, holding two steaming styrofoam cups. Soap’s eyes snapped open, instinct flaring, then relaxed. He sat up slightly, taking the hot, terrible coffee offered with a weary half-smile, the warmth seeping into his cold hands as the only kindness in…