The Surgeon He Shattered

Five years. Five years since I walked awayno, since I was wheeled away. My dominant hand had been shattered, my legs useless. I changed my name, quietly resigned my commission, and opened a tiny, anonymous pharmacy near the border. I was just a ghost running a dispensary.
The first time I saw him again was five years later, when a young Captain came to pick up a refill. "Colonel Hawthorne never married, Sam," the Captain told me, lowering his voice. "He's been waiting for you all this time."
The words were still hanging in the air when Grant Hawthorne walked in.
The man was a vision in his dress uniform, instantly drawing every eye in the room.
Five years hadn't stripped the edge from his handsomeness, but the reckless confidence of his youth had been replaced by a hardened, somber authority.
He watched me for a long moment, the intensity in his dark eyes suggesting a thousand unspoken words. When he finally spoke, it was only a gentle, measured greeting:
"Sam. It's been a long time."
"Yeah. A long time."
My reply was flat, devoid of any of the turmoil that should accompany a reunion like this. I was careful to let no trace of the past show on my face.
I thought of the day five years ago. His adopted sister, Violet, had accused me of prescribing her cheap, defective medication that led to her catching an infection.
Grant had exploded.
Right there, hed used the heavy butt of his service rifle to smash the bones in the hand I used for surgery.
Then, the ultimate betrayal. Hed posted the intimate photos wed taken when love felt safe, uploading them to the Joint Base social forum.
"My Hot Fiancee," the caption read, "Proven Good, Available Free."
His own battle buddies had tried to intervene: "Grant, shes about to be your wife. Why are you destroying her?"
Grant, however, was unmoved.
"She used bad medicine on Violet, almost caused her a breakdown," hed sneered. "And she wont admit her mistake. She doesnt deserve to be a surgeon."
"Besides," hed added, almost as an afterthought, "I was just scaring her, guys. I wasn't actually going to let those dirtbags touch her or infect her. Not really."
I stood in the doorway, my face white, and met his eyes.
He didn't look guilty or ashamed. He just walked over, ruffled my hair like I was a wayward child, and said:
"You messed up this time, Sam. You deserve the lesson."
"Just fix Violets condition, and then go apologize to her in person."
"I'll still marry you."
I swallowed the scream, the tears, and every shred of my pride. I simply forwarded the link to the first private message I received.
The next second, someone messaged back: "I'll take her."
1
Grant, watching my screen, clenched his fist so hard the wineglass he held shattered.
The officers around him fell silent.
One spoke in a low voice: "Colonel, maybe we should call this off? Its not a good look..."
Grant turned his head, looking straight at me.
"Sam, what do you say? Are you coming with me to apologize?"
I dropped my gaze, turned on my heel, and started walking toward the other end of the corridor.
From behind me came his cold, casual voice. "Your 'wife' doesnt have a problem, why are you guys so tense? If the buyer isn't picky, I suppose I have to follow through."
I kept walking, my feet numb, heading for the exit of the Officers' Club.
The corridor was suddenly filled with whispering and pointing.
My hands and feet were icy.
Suddenly, a mandrunk, reekinglunged and grabbed my waist, his breath hot and foul in my ear.
"Heard you like the sick ones? Lucky you, I just tested positive for HIV two days ago..."
I screamed, thrashing against him. The military spouses and officers nearby simply stepped back, avoiding me with expressions of disgust.
The whispers reached me:
"Thats her, right? The medical officer who was messing around. So gross."
"Serves her right. She posted that stuff online herself. Now she has the nerve to ask for help."
I was shaking violently. I forced a scream out: "My fianc is a Colonel! You can't touch me"
"Got a fianc but still trolling for sick men online? Your chats are everywhere, lady. What officer would want you now?"
He shook his phone in my face, the screen light blinding and painful.
"Go on, call your man out. If he actually comes, I'll let you go."
The moment the words left his mouth, the door to the private room opened.
Grant and a few other officers emerged.
Seeing him, the tears Id been holding back burst forth.
"Grant! Help me!"
He didn't even look at me. He just smiled at the drunk man.
"Relax, buddy. Shes into that. She specifically goes for the sick ones."
Then, he walked past me.
The drunk man roared with laughter.
"Colonel Hawthorne doesn't even want you! Who are you trying to fool?"
I don't know how long passed. Suddenly, a gush of warm liquid flooded my legs.
The man, terrified, released me and ran off, cursing.
I stumbled up and somehow dragged myself to the Emergency Room.
I lost the baby.
I had planned to tell Grant about the pregnancy on our three-year anniversary.
Now, all that was left was a vague, bloody mass on a stainless steel tray.
The colleague on duty looked at me, her eyes full of sorrow and hesitation.
"Dr. Pierce, Colonel Hawthorne has been putting pressure on the hospital... demanding a severe review. Theyve decided to revoke your military medical certification, and theyre going after you for the training compensation. It's... almost a million dollars."
I closed my eyes. The taste of rust filled my throat.
My colleagues eyes welled up.
"How could Grant become like this? He risked a court-martial to get you transferred here; he almost died rushing into that disaster zone last year just to pull you out."
"He loved you so much. How can he destroy the hand you operate with and ruin your entire career, all for his adopted sister?"
Yes, why? I shook my head, unable to speak.
When I met Grant, I had no idea he had an adopted sister.
He had been wounded while diffusing a bomb near the bordershrapnel just two millimeters from his heart.
I stood at the field surgical table for fourteen hours, fighting the Reaper for his life.
Three days after he woke, he had his orderly summon me.
Beneath the oxygen mask, his voice was rough, but he smiled.
"Dr. Pierce, you saved me. My life is yours now."
I dismissed it as the adrenaline rush of a wounded man.
But he truly pursued me for a full year, securing the best medical equipment in the whole armed forces for my field hospital.
Knowing I often missed meals, he would wait outside the infirmary after every exercise, carrying a thermos.
It was hard not to fall for him, yet I was afraid.
It wasn't until three years ago, when a disgruntled, disciplined veteran broke into the infirmary with a knife.
Grant threw himself in front of me, taking one slash across his shoulder and another across his arm.
I said yes the day he got his stitches removed.
For three years, everything was perfect.
Until he missed our engagement ceremony.
Three days later, he returned with Violet in tow, merely saying he'd "forgotten."
Grant asked me to take care of Violet, and I did my best.
Three days ago, Violet came to me, complaining of lower abdominal pain.
She begged me not to tell her brother.
I thought she was just embarrassed. I ran the tests and gave her anti-inflammatory medication.
But when I looked at the lab report, I frozeit was positive.
Before I could figure out the best way to tell her, Grant burst in with his orderly, shielding a teary-eyed Violet.
With a single command, my right hand was smashed by the rifle butt.
Curled on the floor in agony, I managed to ask him why.
He looked down at me, his eyes cold.
"I thought you were different. I never expected you to be this vicious."
"Just because I missed the engagement, you deliberately gave Violet defective medication and infected her with that disease?"
"She's only twenty-one!"
"You don't deserve this uniform. Destroying your prescribing hand is a lesson you earned."
Violet suddenly burst into fresh tears, pointing at the lab report on my desk.
"Sam... you planned it all! You hurt me, and then you forged the lab report!"
"Do you hate me that much? I might as well just die!"
"Did you already spread this report? Whats the point of me living now?"
She lunged toward the wall, but Grant caught her just in time.
He looked at me, his gaze icy.
"Sam, youd force my sister to commit suicide just over an engagement?"
"Publicly apologize. Admit you maliciously harmed a fellow servicemember and forged a medical record out of personal resentment."
Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. "Grant, this will destroy everything I am!"
"I didn't do it. I will not confess."
But no matter how I pleaded, how I begged him to have the ointment tested,
He simply motioned for the military police to hold my head. In front of the entire medical staff, he forced me to my knees, making me bow my head repeatedly to Violeta hundred times, it felt like.
My blood splattered the floor. The bystanders raised their phones.
I finally collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness. When I woke, I found a message from one of his officers, telling me to meet Grant at the base bar to explain myself.
Clutching the last desperate sliver of hope, I went.
And overheard him arranging to hand me over to someone else.
My colleague, seeing the agony on my face, said nothing more. She handed me a box of Post-Exposure Prophylaxis (P.E.P.) pills.
"Take these for a month, then come back for a recheck to make sure you didnt get infected."
I thanked her softly and drifted home in a daze.
My phone screen lit up. A message attached to a plane ticket.
"Sam, don't be afraid. I'm coming to get you. No matter the cost, I'll fix this."
Tears streamed down my face, and I cried myself to sleep.

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