The human spirit was resilient, and most of the doctors of MSF didn’t want to leave the compound after the attack. It took a few weeks, but using international supplies, they were able to slowly rebuild what had been destroyed. The SEAL team who had assisted Welsh and his guys left with Heim to get him treated, and the remaining men stayed to help keep everything secure. After everything, Rose only saw Welsh at night, when he came in dog tired and wrapped himself around her to get rest. Most nights, her alarm sent her scurrying out of the security of his arms, but the relationship brewing between them was real.
Welsh didn’t seem as angry when he was with Rose, and his SEAL team saw it as well. The more time they spent together, though little as it was, the more she believed going back home when her two-month stay was done was the better option. She’d rather try to have something with the SEAL, and she’d seen enough war-torn countries for a lifetime. The sunlight filtered into the room, and Rose shifted in her empty bed, Welsh having left earlier for PT. After last night’s shift, she was exhausted.
A commotion outside of the dormitory grabbed Rose’s attention, and she stalked to her window, toothbrush stuck in her mouth and half dead to the world. A collection of women hovered near the front gates, staring and pointing at something in the distance.
“I’m not going to get a lick of sleep with all that racket. We are medical professionals, for God’s sake. Act like it.”
Aggravated and tired, she rinsed her mouth out in the bathroom and headed out of the dorm. She’d get to the bottom of this, disperse the masses, and get some much-needed shut eye. She was off rotation for the next three days and needed to get as much rest as she could. Women skipped, skipped, their way down the hall. Grown, educated, intelligent women freaking skipped.
“I must be hallucinating,” Rose whispered.
But the closer she got to the front of the dormitory, she realized that was far from the truth. Women oohed and ahhed back and forth as Rose pushed her way through the crowd to the front. Her mouth went dry, and the space between her legs went from nonexistent to needy faster than her brain could even comprehend what she was seeing. Welsh and Big Boss, in nothing but tactical boots and camo pants, sparred back and forth. And these women where ogling what belonged to her. That was a no go. But before she could set off the fury of World War III, something in Welsh’s mannerisms stopped her.
Something is wrong.
“My God, I think I need a SEAL,” a nurse whispered.
“That sort of stamina,” someone whispered back.
Rose couldn’t deny that Welsh and his teammate were a study in the perfect male physique, and her libido certainly agreed. It missed his possession and the stolen moments they’d had in the shower. Still, a warning note was ringing in her head, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Welsh moved, his muscles shifting under his golden skin. She watched sweat trail down, slithering along the lines of his body, and she was instantly jealous of the drop. What she wouldn’t do to replace that drop with her tongue. Welsh whipped around and stuck Big Boss with a roundhouse kick. But Big Boss caught Welsh’s leg in his hands and tossed the SEAL to the ground.
It doesn’t feel right.
Rose stepped closer, examining the fight from another angle. Lacey appeared at her side. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Their movements are lethargic, and something is bothering me.”
Lacey turned her well-trained eyes to the men fighting back and forth. Heim, who’d returned to convalesce with his team because he had a personal doctor—namely Rose—watching over his care, was just steps away from them. His blue eyes snapped with aggravation as the two men kept fighting. He yelled something at them, but Welsh laughed and kept going. What were they doing?
“I can’t see much from this distance, but it just looks like fatigue, and maybe some dehydration. If they stopped and took in some liquids, they’d recover soon enough,” Lacey answered.
Rose grunted. Yeah, that could be it. It was the most likely explanation for their symptoms, and more often than not, doctors learned very quickly to go with the most basic answer first. Every illness wasn’t one that would put them in the scientific journals for finding the answer. But when she got close enough, Welsh’s unfocused glance sent her into overdrive.
“Lacey, get me my gear, right now!” Rose yelled, even as she raced toward the fighters. Stupid, stupid men. What was it with sailors and not giving up? With putting themselves at risk to prove physical prowess. She didn’t care how good they were trained, the body could only handle so much. She reached them just as Big Boss threw a chop. At her height, it would tap her brachial artery and take her down. She hadn’t thought of the danger when she rushed in.
“Pull back!” Heim cried, but it didn’t matter. Welsh, unfocused and sweating profusely, grabbed her, tipping the world on its axis. She was surrounded in sweat, body heat, and the musky sent of Welsh as he curled around her and took the brunt of the blow. He fell to his knees, taking her down with him, his heart pounding hard against her back.
“Are you … okay?” he slurred.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
His teammate jumped in front of her. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t pull away in time,” Big Boss told her.
“What is wrong with you guys?” she screeched, getting her bearings back “He’s clammy, hot to the touch, his pupils are dilated, and his pulse is erratic.”
“I told them to stop,” Heim answered, glaring at Big Boss.
“He kept going with me,” Big Boss said, and there was respect and anger wrapped up in those words.
“I don’t care why. We need to get him into the hospital,” Rose argued. Lacey plopped down next to her, giving Rose her stethoscope, torch, and gear to assess the patient. Welsh’s tongue was swollen in his mouth, sticking to the roof as she used a tongue depressor to check it. “We’re going to test him standing after one minute. Let’s get him up.”
Lacey gripped one arm, but Big Boss moved her, and Heim assisted him in lifting Welsh to his feet.
“Shouldn’t he be lying down?” Snake asked.
“Dehydration has several symptoms. He’s got a temperature of 102.6, and that’s dangerous, but the best way to tell if it’s because of dehydration is what his pulse and heartrate are. When you stand up, there is a normal drop in blood pressure for a few seconds. But once the heartrate picks up, the blood pressure normalizes. But if he does indeed have dehydration, his heartrate will increase, but the pressure won’t normalize. You may feel a little faint or dizzy,” she told Welsh.
He nodded, but it was more a listless glide of his head. And then he puked, all over their feet.