Gideon x Reader - Call of Duty AW Ch. 4

Chapter IV

“Doctor (l/n)?”

Looking up from your cup of coffee and milk, your gaze fell on the man that stood before your table wearing an expression of uncertainty. He was tall, remarkably tall, but did not look intimidating at a first sight— unlike Gideon. If anything, he did not look like the type of man cut for warfare, despite his uniform told you otherwise. He had this gentle aura to him, which was accentuated by his baby blue eyes that regarded you with curiosity and maybe a bit of embarrassment.

“Yes?” You sat straight, trying not to spill your drink all over your blouse, taken aback by the sudden intrusion. You could not help it. The past few days had taken their toll on you and you had spent them mainly in your bedroom, mourning the loss of your friend Will. All your desires to see the world again had vanished the moment you knew of his decease and you had retreated to your own shell, hoping to escape from everyone and everything.

It had not been until now that you had dared to abandon your haven and show your face in the mess hall, if only because you were hungry and needed some fresh air.

You had inquired when you would be working again, but had been told that you still needed time to recover and adjust. There still was the therapy with the psychiatrist and Irons himself had stated that you were not to be disturbed, for you were meant to take this time for yourself and your family. Still, you had mainly avoided your parents as you were mad at them for keeping the truth about Will’s death from you. Even though they said they believed it had been for the best if you remained ignorant for a little longer, that did not take from the fact you had received a painful blow with unexpected news.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you,” the young man apologized with a mortified voice, clearly noticing your panicked state. His tongue nervously licked his thin lips and he was soon trying to find the words to say, whilst you gave him a perplexed look. “My name’s Jack Mitchell.”

It was like a bucket of cold water hearing that name. He was looking at you as if he thought you had no idea who he was, but he was wrong.

After a moment of awkward silence, you finally managed to speak up. “Ah, you’re Gideon’s friend.” You gave him a small smile, playing along for the time being. Mitchell only nodded, looking expectantly at you, and for a second or two neither of you spoke a word, until you remembered that you had not even offered him to take a seat. Once your mistake was mended, he shyly reciprocated your friendly gesture with a murmured ‘thanks’.

Bending his tall form to fit in the unoccupied seat across yours, Mitchell straightened a hand against his dark gray cargo pants and placed his mug of black coffee on the metallic surface of the small table. He soon was relaxing against the comfortable leather chair, as you tried to divert your eyes from him and into the twilight sky. You had never been the socialite type and, even though he was a really attractive man himself, you could not fix your stare on him for long. Mitchell seemed to feel the same way, as he was staring at his own hands. Either way, there was this uneasy aura to him that you caught and shared with him.

“So where’s the grumpy captain?” You asked to break the silence.

You heard him shift, looking up to you with curiosity before he shook his head. “I think he had some reports to do.” He scratched his stubble with his right hand, and slightly leaned to you. “You surely wondering why I want to have a word with you.”

He thought you did not know, but you did.

“I know who you are.” Jack Mitchell was a name you had heard a lot lately, since Irons had taken a shine on him. Maybe it would be too daring of you to say, but it almost looked as if he were trying to replace his son with this guy.  

“You were… Will’s friend.”

You tensed at the sound of that name and were reminded of someone who now was gone. With a grimace, you looked at the cup in your hands. “Yes, I was his friend. I take it you were close to him, too.”

You played with the teaspoon, twirling it around your fingers and wishing you would not feel so awkward around people you just met. Or maybe it was the fact that he had shared the same bond with someone you cared.

“He told me a lot about you.” The teaspoon bolted from your fingers to the floor, and you sighed with tiredness, brushing a hand against your weary face. You did not want to go through this again— you thought you had gotten over it but it was clear that you did not. You were physically and mentally exhausted to deal with another breakdown. You were not even worried about the embarrassment of someone else seeing you broken, you just had enough. You were even regretting the decision to offer him to share a hot drink with you, believing you should have given a pretext and be on your way.

He shifted in his chair again but you did not look at him, did not dare to so long as you felt the coldness of loneliness chill your skin and the churn in your stomach making you lose your nerve. It was not until he was placing the small utensil by the side of the plate that you stared at him out of the corner of your eye.

His arm…

Gideon had been right and your hand quickly shot to the myoelectric prosthetic, fingers brushing against its surface before you took a hold of it. Mitchell did not seem to mind, at all, for he simply let you study him as your eyes widened in surprise when you noticed for the first time the whirring of minute engines under stratums of electrically conductive polymer, and reinforcement textiles. For what felt like a long time, you and Mitchell remained in silence until he spoke all of  a sudden, bring you out of your reverie.

“I’m sorry.” You looked up, meeting his sad eyes as he stood close to you. They shone with pent up emotions, and you could not help but feel like a jerk at your surliness. “I’m really sorry.”

I’m sorry I could not save him, he seemed to be telling you.

“You’re not to blame,” you finally said, letting go of him and he looked down, uncertain of what else could be said. “He’s gone and there’s nothing we can do about it. Sadly, we still haven’t discovered a way to bring people back to life.” You breathed the last part with a sense of defeat, your shoulders slumping. “I couldn't help him but, at least, I can help you.”

People bustled around you but you were caught in your little world, as Mitchell slipped in his seat once more. It was not long before they started to leave, when night drew near. The sounds in the background began to fade but the turmoil in his blue eyes did not diminish, the guilt that still afflicted him, so you took the first step towards acceptance.

Taking a sip of your drink, you furrowed your eyebrows when you found that it had grown cold. Mitchell had to chuckle at your funny expression, absent-mindedly tapping his fingers on the surface of his black mug.

“How long have you been in ATLAS?”

“A month, maybe. I would have gone to Myanmar with Gideon but,” he raised his left hand, “I was recovering from surgery and I still had to go through rehab.”

“How is it going for you? I hope the arm is everything you expected or, at least, useful.”

He looked into your eyes, his lips drawing a timid smile. “Still getting used to it but I’m doing better every day. The first days were pain, but I've been told I made a lot of progress.” Regarding his arm with an appreciative look, he flexed his fingers for emphasis. “I've recently started going to the fire range and it’s a relief I can have a normal life again. I thought everything was over but this gave me hope.”

“It’s not the end. We still have much to do and this is going to be a new start for you.” You gave him a reassuring smile, wondering if it could be the same for you. “You deserve a second chance.”

“You know, Will talked so much about the great Doctor (l/n) that I had to wonder if he was actually in love with you.” Mitchell’s laughter made you retreat with a blush, as you crossed your arms and tried to deal with the impact of those words on your heart. It was no use lingering on those contemplations, however, for unsaid confessions could never hurt anyone. Still, his gaze was soft and you had to wonder if it was possible what he said was true. “You meant a lot to him and I can see why.”

Your cheeks were warm, and you were left at a loss for words. You did not know if it was because Mitchell was making a subtle compliment, or because you had been so important to Will. “And I thought I was the Grinch for him.”

His snicker did not go unnoticed and you had to roll your eyes, predicting what he was about to say. “Well, he called you that many times.”

“I knew it.” You chuckled, feeling more comfortable by the moment. It was the first time you could talk about this and not feel like you were choking in your own tears. It was almost liberating, as though you felt a heavy weight being lifted off your chest.

Mitchell was easy to talk to and, despite your heavy heart, you felt that somehow a part of Will had survived and was close to you. He shared stories with you, about their time in the Marines, what a hard-working and resolute spirit Will possessed. Mitchell admitted that, despite Will being younger than him, he had always been the big brother— encouraging him, leading him, telling him everything was going to be alright even when the end was so close.

See you on the other side, those had been his last words. You did not know if there truly was another side, but it was nice to think that one you would see him again.

All too soon it was getting late. Mitchell offered to walk you to your building, which was on the way to his. As you leisurely strolled on the side of the road, he found the opportunity to ask about how his arm worked, and you gladly explained. For the most part he showed great interest, clearly impressed at the work of art that had become part of him now. He had been explained the basics, yes, but he preferred a much more in depth insight that, apparently, no one had been too concerned to give him. He did not take it as an offense, of course, since he was aware there was a lot of work to do and he opted for not keeping pestering people with his questions. He had a new arm and that should be enough.

Before you knew it, it was time to say goodbye and Mitchell turned to you, a flicker of disappointment in his gaze when you reached your place. You had to admit you were saddened, too, and you felt tempted to ask him if he had any plans the next day, but thought it would be foolish and indiscreet when you just met, no matter how friendly he seemed to be.

“I gotta run now. Gideon is probably looking for me,” he started to walk away, before adding as an afterthought, “but if you need anything just let me know, okay?”

“Alright, don’t worry. It was nice talking to you, Mitchell…”

“Same here. See you around.” He nodded with a smile and then he was off, leaving you to your thoughts.

You had the feeling things would start changing for the better. You wanted to begin working as soon as possible. You needed to, something within you demanded it. The look in Mitchell’s eyes as he parted from you, it made you see that not everything was lost to you. You still had a chance to redeem yourself.

Everything would be alright.