A New Assignment

Chapter 1

My name is Samantha Sloan but I am usually called Dr Sloan or just Sam. I was born to a middle class family living in Elmhurst, Illinois which is a suburb outside of Chicago. I worked my butt off to earn a medical degree from Harvard Medical School. After my residency requirements were complete, I spent the next few years traveling from city to city, state to state, working as an independent contractor in various hospitals or medical offices.

Sometime along the way, I met Angie Hart. We found that we both worked unusual hours and shared a love of coffee. We became instant friends. Our regular meeting place was a small coffee shop on Charlotte Street located a couple of miles away from the hospital I was working at during my time in Kansas City, MO. We chatted about random things like movies or books or men. Both of us were usually exhausted and that led to some silly conversations which eventually become just laughter for no reason whatsoever.

Even after having known her for a couple of years, she is still very mysterious to me. While we have talked for hours about many things, Angie has never been one to divulge many personal details. The best I can determine, she has something to do with the FBI and has contacts in many of the military branches. Her job requires her to move often, as does mine, and she is not allowed to talk about anything, else she says she'd have to kill. Did I mention that she has a freshing sense of humor?

Out of the blue in May, I got a call from Angie asking me if I would consider a more longer tour of duty as a civilian doctor working on a military base. I did not even have to think about it. I immediately told her that I was interested in going. As a child I always dreamed of having a job where I could help others. What better way to help than to serve the men and women who give up their lives protecting our country. I certainly was not that brave. This was my chance to do my part and help these noble people. I was excited. I had no idea when, where, how long I would be going or how much the position paid. I never asked what the qualifications were or any of the other standard questions one asks on a job interview before making a decision about a career change.

Angie said that she would have to make a few phone calls and get the ball rolling. This would be a unique opportunity for both me and the government. At thirty-three, my age makes me ineligible for many positions due to lacking the years of experience required. The government however can apparently do whatever they want and Angie had recommended me for a trial opportunity. The position would allow me to work in a hospital on a military base and attend to both military, civilian and government employees or family members living on the base.

The hospital chosen was located on the Marine Corps base in Quantico, VA. After a very thorough background check and several level of interviews, the transfer was accepted and processed. I moved into a very small cape cod style home just outside the base. Since I wasn't military, housing was not provided from the government but Angie was able to make other arrangements and took care of all the details.

As an independent contractor, I had usually lived wherever the hospital administration puts me until I am moved to another location. That had been the cycle for the last few years and I was comfortable with that. Moving so often meant living light. I owned no furniture of my own as all the housing had been furnished. There were usually a few boxes that I hauled in my Daisy Dukes style white CJ-7 Jeep (although I never referred to it as Dixie like it was called on the television show). I had clothes, kitchenware, linens, and a few reminders from home. I always kept a picture of my family on the nightstand by me bed. Well get to the details of my family later. This story is about something else.

Chapter 2

No one told me that my first day working at this particular hospital was going to change the rest of my life. It was an ordinary fall day in early October. I arrived at the hospital and found my way to the administration office. Once all the formalities and paperwork was completed, I headed to the trauma center. Introductions were made with the staff working. A doctor, Paul Morgan, offered to take me on a tour of the facility. He was very friendly and smiled more than anyone I have known. I never date co-workers and rarely do I pay any attention to how attractive they might be. On that first day, I did notice however, that Dr Morgan was exception good looking. He was at least six feet tall and slender. He looked like he was probably a runner. You know that long and lean body type. He had brown eyes and dish water blond hair. He was probably in his early forties and he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. I am not sure what prompted me to look at his wedding finger or even to scan his body the way I did. This is where the real story begins.

There weren't any patients in the waiting area. I decided to check on some of the admitted patients and see if I could offer aid. I have always had this special ability to calm and relax those around me providing comfort. It was a big part of what made me decide to become a doctor.

My pager went off and the code told me that I was needed in the ER. An ambulance (or "Bus" as we call them), pulled up near the sliding doors and two men in camouflage (with a lot of blood on them) jumped out. They hoisted out the stretcher. On it was another man in camo and he was covered in blood mostly from his legs down. Sam had them head into the first open room. She pulled the curtain across for privacy.

The two men explained that they were participating in a training session that was not using live ammo. Their colonel somehow stepped on a live land mine. I asked the men to wait outside as I needed to work fast to stop the bleeding and see what could be salvaged from his legs and feet.

First glance told me it was bad. He had all his parts, but nothing was connected the way God made him. I ripped off the shreds of what was left of his pants and the towels that had been used to soak up the blood. Then I sent a nurse to get several bags of blood. He was going to need a lot. He was conscious and not screaming. He just watched silently as I worked obviously in shock.

I introduced myself and asked him his name. He told me that he was Colonel Taylor Quinn, or Colonel for short. I calmly explained that he was hit by a land mine and that there was extensive damage. I was going to sedate him to help with the pain. He refused. We argued briefly but I honored his demands.

I did however decide to offer him my own special form of comfort. Placing both hands near the largest cut on his upper thigh, I focused on his pain and sent my energy to him. Immediately his leg spasmed and her hands tingled causing me to remove my hands quickly. The Colonel had a startled look on his face and I was completely surprised by what happened. In all my years helping others, that feeling and response had never occurred. I felt that the Colonel was different but could not identify just what was different.

The Colonel looked like he was trying to figure out what I was doing to him. I put my hands back on his leg and it had the same reaction. This time I did not remove my hands but instead closed my eyes and focused on his pain sending healing energy to him. The blood flow slowed and the skin started to reattach. The gash closed up so that it was not nearly as deep at is was when the Colonel arrived.

"What are you doing to me?" barked the Colonel.

"Colonel Quinn, as I explained before I am Dr Sloan and I am here to treat the wounds you received when you stepped on a land mine. Do you remember what happened?" I spoke in a very soothing voice.

"I damn well remember what happened AND I remember who you said you were! What I don't remember is when you explained how you are able to repair my injuries with just the touch of your hands."

I wasn't about to discuss my abilities with this hostile patient whom I didn't even know. I barely told my family about what I could do. The standard reply was always "I am a doctor and have special training so that you get the best medical care."

"I'm not buying it Missy. I felt something when you touched me and I can clearly see that my thigh has healed much faster than is possible."

Ignoring him, I continued placing my hands on the other cuts one at a time. I made sure not to completely heal any of them, but instead only heal them to where there was no longer a risk of having to amputate. The Colonel will be able to keep his legs and feet.

The nurse finally returned with the bags of blood as ordered. She gasped when she looked at the patient. I thought that I might have gone overboard and did too much healing this time. It was always a struggle with where I needed to stop to let the patient heal on their own. I hated seeing injuries that I knew I could fix. I wasn't God so I had to keep reminding myself that there was a fine line between helping and interfering.

"Once I got the blood cleaned up, he wasn't nearly as bad as everyone thought." I said quickly trying to create a solid explanation for the patient's current status. "He is going to need some blood, but he should be fine."

I asked the nurse to take care of the transfusion and she started cleaning up the bloody materials that covered the floor. Leaving the room, I turned to close the curtain behind me. I took a glance back at my patient. He was staring right at me and he looked angry. His face was tense. There was a slight wrinkle in his nose and his teeth were gritted together so hard I could see the contraction of his jaw muscles.

A few hours later, I went back to check on the patient. The nurses had been in and out every half hour and he had a call button if he needed anything. The Colonel was sitting up in his bed wide awake. I asked him if I could look at his legs. He nodded. I pulled back the sheet and carefully unwrapped one of the bandages that had been placed around his thigh. He was healing extremely well. In fact, it looked as if he was almost completely healed. I knew that I stopped early enough and didn't cross that invisible line. I looked at the Colonel in surprise and he stared back at me.

"Colonel Quinn, you are almost 100% healed. How do you explain that?" I asked.

"I'll explain when you explain." He replied rudely.

I wasn't about to explain so decided to pretend that everything was normal.

"Well, you must have a very healthy immune system. You should be thankful." I said and smiled to make it seem sincere. He just grunted.

I checked the rest of the bandages because I needed more time. I was able to probe into people's thoughts and I desperately wanted to know what he did to heal himself. I hardly ever delved into people's thoughts since it felt intrusive, but this case was an exception.

I probed his mind and found it very difficult to get through. It had never been a problem before. I was able to squeeze through but instead of a smooth train of thought I only got random pictures of things. There were no words. It was as if someone were flipping through a photo album very quickly. Nothing made any sense. I couldn't get a single thought just these fast images. I figured I wasn't going to get anything this time, so I finished the inspection and pulled the sheet back up to cover the Colonel.

"Did you enjoy what you saw Dr Sloan?" the Colonel asked in a passive aggressive manner.

I thought he was referring to seeing his naked legs and under garments but then considered that he might be referring to my probe. There was no way he could know what I did. No one has ever been able to tell.

"No Colonel Quinn. I see body parts all day long. I don't find legs any more enjoyable than other body parts." I replied.

"Well then maybe you haven't had experience with the right body parts." the Colonel said seriously making me blush at his comment. I hadn't even thought about how my statement could have had multiple connotations. Where was his mind? Was he flirting with me or being rude?

I decide this last comment deserves no reply. Instead I said "I'll have the nurses continue to check in on you and we might be able to discharge you within a few more hours."

"Actually, I will be leaving now." the Colonel says as the sheet flies off and his legs fling off the bed.

He stood up and noticed that he has no pants. I chuckle to myself internally. I can tell he does not like having to depend on me for anything. I am not sure if it is me personally or all women. His face changes and I can see that he has remembered how his pants shredded during the explosion.

"Colonel Quinn, if you insist on leaving, I will get you some scrubs to wear home. I'll be right back with them and your discharge papers."

I take my time but eventually return with a pair of scrub bottoms that are the right size. He scribbles off his signature on the document that says the patient choice to leave against doctor's orders. He whips on the pants and walks out.