She's a little cold-hearted...
“I'm a believer in that, ... I am a great believer in found families and I'm not a great believer in blood. Although I love my family, even the ones I grew up with, to me I've always felt that the people who treated you with respect and included you in their lives were your family and the people who were related to you by blood might happen to be those people but that correlation was a lot less [strong] than society believes it is.”
-Joss Whedon
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WONT TREAT ME!?” The Browncoat soldier bellowed at Bel as she casually typed into her cortex, her eyes glancing from screen to soldier to screen again. “What are you? One of those purple belly supporters? I was told you would help!” He gripped his arm and grimaced as the blood soaked through the cloth wrapped around it. It was a simple knife wound. Nothing major. The only thing making it bleed was the fact he was bellowing and gripping the arm as if it was going to fall off. Bel recognized him. Knew what ship he was on. What captain he served under. And for some reason, she just didn’t want to treat him.
”Sir, you have a gash on your arm. Find some needle and thread and sew it up. It’s not that hard. Would you mind leaving? You are disturbing my patients.” She went back to the screen and typed, her fingers tapping on the keys. He didn’t even move. Instead he looked at her incredulously.
“You are a doctor! You are supposed to help! It’s a code or something, aint it?” He looked a wee bit pale as he clutched the bloody cloth to his arm and Bel looked up at him and shook her head.
“No. Im a medic. I didn’t take any oath. I didn’t go to any schooling. I have every right to refuse you. I have every right to refuse anyone I see fit. If it bothers you and your captain so much, tell him to take his ship and head for another moon where the medics and doctors have the time and patience to deal with his lot. Now, good day, sir.” She turned her attention back to the screen, a twinge in her bones making her wince at the feeling of almost regret.
It wasn’t truly his fault. But she didn’t want to associate with anyone of that circle. Granted, if he was shot in the chest or losing his life, she would act differently. But a simple knife wound probably gotten during a fight with a local or something wasn’t her concern. The fact they were here made her skin crawl. They were like a beacon to the Alliance. Telling them that Hale’s was ripe for the picking. It didn’t matter she had a personal beef with the captain himself. She gnashed her teeth together as she stopped typing, the browncoat finally walking away from her.
She rubbed between her eyes and she looked over to see Taia standing there, Jonas strapped to her back. A look of concern crossed her features as she watched her sayasi. “Bel, what is wrong with you? Have you truly become cold hearted with bitterness?”
Bel shook her head and frowned. “No.. I have not. He will survive. I need all the medical supplies we can get. Especially with the recent reaver attacks.” Not really a lie. But Bel didn’t want to have to think about the true reason. The reason why whenever she saw that ship, or her occupants… her heart sank before tightening and squeezing the joy out of her.
Papa always said we create our own hell. We supply the players and the situation. And we live it out like a play in our mind. Bel never realized what it meant til she got older. And she realized she was in her own personal hell.
The trip to Ariel was coming up. Bel’s coin spinning as her decision was still up in the air. Should she stay on Ariel? Find her joy and never have to see them again? Or come back. Stick it out and hope that she gets out of her personal hell.
She thought about the night before. How he felt under her fingers and how he smelled so musky and sweet. How for that shining moment, she felt like a woman again and not just a doctor. Taia moved away and went back to stock up the medicines from the cargo she acquired and Bel went back to work, her frown of discontent turning into a smile of remembrance.
-Joss Whedon
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WONT TREAT ME!?” The Browncoat soldier bellowed at Bel as she casually typed into her cortex, her eyes glancing from screen to soldier to screen again. “What are you? One of those purple belly supporters? I was told you would help!” He gripped his arm and grimaced as the blood soaked through the cloth wrapped around it. It was a simple knife wound. Nothing major. The only thing making it bleed was the fact he was bellowing and gripping the arm as if it was going to fall off. Bel recognized him. Knew what ship he was on. What captain he served under. And for some reason, she just didn’t want to treat him.
”Sir, you have a gash on your arm. Find some needle and thread and sew it up. It’s not that hard. Would you mind leaving? You are disturbing my patients.” She went back to the screen and typed, her fingers tapping on the keys. He didn’t even move. Instead he looked at her incredulously.
“You are a doctor! You are supposed to help! It’s a code or something, aint it?” He looked a wee bit pale as he clutched the bloody cloth to his arm and Bel looked up at him and shook her head.
“No. Im a medic. I didn’t take any oath. I didn’t go to any schooling. I have every right to refuse you. I have every right to refuse anyone I see fit. If it bothers you and your captain so much, tell him to take his ship and head for another moon where the medics and doctors have the time and patience to deal with his lot. Now, good day, sir.” She turned her attention back to the screen, a twinge in her bones making her wince at the feeling of almost regret.
It wasn’t truly his fault. But she didn’t want to associate with anyone of that circle. Granted, if he was shot in the chest or losing his life, she would act differently. But a simple knife wound probably gotten during a fight with a local or something wasn’t her concern. The fact they were here made her skin crawl. They were like a beacon to the Alliance. Telling them that Hale’s was ripe for the picking. It didn’t matter she had a personal beef with the captain himself. She gnashed her teeth together as she stopped typing, the browncoat finally walking away from her.
She rubbed between her eyes and she looked over to see Taia standing there, Jonas strapped to her back. A look of concern crossed her features as she watched her sayasi. “Bel, what is wrong with you? Have you truly become cold hearted with bitterness?”
Bel shook her head and frowned. “No.. I have not. He will survive. I need all the medical supplies we can get. Especially with the recent reaver attacks.” Not really a lie. But Bel didn’t want to have to think about the true reason. The reason why whenever she saw that ship, or her occupants… her heart sank before tightening and squeezing the joy out of her.
Papa always said we create our own hell. We supply the players and the situation. And we live it out like a play in our mind. Bel never realized what it meant til she got older. And she realized she was in her own personal hell.
The trip to Ariel was coming up. Bel’s coin spinning as her decision was still up in the air. Should she stay on Ariel? Find her joy and never have to see them again? Or come back. Stick it out and hope that she gets out of her personal hell.
She thought about the night before. How he felt under her fingers and how he smelled so musky and sweet. How for that shining moment, she felt like a woman again and not just a doctor. Taia moved away and went back to stock up the medicines from the cargo she acquired and Bel went back to work, her frown of discontent turning into a smile of remembrance.
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