FicWad

Disclaimer : I don't own GI Joe or make any profits off this, so please do not sue. Just borrowing the characters someone thought up a long time ago and recycling them. I know there are a lot of these journals out there, but now I am trying my hand at it. Storm O and Scarlett Phoenix thank you for all your help.

NOTE : This takes place right after the death of Carl Greer aka Doc C., when referred too in this story.


EMAIL :RLB589872@msn.com
Rated PG 13
By Medic ( MedicLifeline)-

Lifeline's Journal:
A Day In The Life Of A G.I. Joe Medic


I sit here trying to figure out what to write in this book that I was given by Psyche-Out.
I guess I should start from the beginning. You see we were all pulled down to the war debriefing room the other day. Needless to say, that when that happens it is not a good sign. I was out on a mission, and returned that day. How was I to know what was to come next?

Duke along with General Hawk were both off to the side talking as we all filed in. I took a seat next to Dusty. He asked if I had any idea what was going on. I, of course, told him no. I just got back. He had remarked that he realized that as soon as he asked the question.

All of us were there except seven of the Joe team on assignment in Trucial Abysmia. I knew of the mission, but Carl went one way and I went the other. General Hawk walked up to the podium. The words he spoke next would never leave me. He had informed us that seven of our comrades were dead. They wanted to tell us all that way no rumors would start or misunderstandings would happen in the next few days. I numbly sat there, as I listened to those around me. You could feel the hurt and rage of those in the room, I swear, when hearing how they died. I mean they gunned them down; even animals get consideration. When we heard some of our comrades almost made it to freedom only to be killed, it crushed us all.

At the end of the meeting, Psyche-Out spoke. He was to see each one of us. Individually. The doctor wanted to speak with us, and "No" was not an answer. We were dismissed. He then handed out a sheet of paper to everyone with a list of those of us there. We had assigned times by each of our names. I went back to my quarters to be by myself.

Finding mine on the list, looking at the time, I crumbled it into a ball and threw it in the trash. When it came my time to go see Psyche-Out, I left a little early. Walking down the hall past the infirmary, I stopped. My office and Carl's were right next to each other with a connecting door in-between. I just stood there, looking at his darkened office, his name on the frosted glass.

DOC

Please Enter.
Patients and Guests Welcome. (Carl had painted that on the door to be less stuffy)
Friends Especially Welcome

Carl and I had worked closely together. We had been friends straight off, his and my views just about the same. He was a mentor, on top of a friend.
Now, he was gone and another doctor would just saunter in and try to take his place. I shook my head, pulling my glasses off, wiping a few tears away. I did not care if others saw me as not as manly as some thought I should be. I was the butt of many jokes to say the least, but Doc always told me to roll with it. I always did, even growing up.

As I stood there, I recalled all the late night chats we had about patients, patient care and of course baseball. There were many evenings Carl and I would have to work late for one reason or another. Some green shirt or full-fledged Joe would walk in at the last minute or even one of us would get a page in the middle of the night.

As I stood there, Lady Jaye had come down the hall," Lifeline are you okay?" she asked.
I told her I was, and that I needed to get going. I could have sworn her eyes were red from crying, but I was not about to ask, since I knew mine were most likely the same.

Reaching Psyche-Out's office, I opened the door and closed it behind me. I took a seat, Psyche-Out sitting behind the desk. He shuffled several files, pulling mine to the top.
We had a pleasant conversation. This is how it went....
"So Lifeline, how are you?" Psyche-Out asked.
"I am doing okay," I replied, just wanting to get out of there.
"You know, everyone is telling me that. I don't buy it," Psyche-Out told me," I know how close our team is. I know also how close of friends you and Carl were."
"Yes, well we all lose friends," I told him.
"Well, what are your feelings Lifeline," Psyche-Out asked me, leaning back in his chair.
"My feelings? You want to know what my feelings are? I should have known that question was coming," I said, trying to laugh but couldn't at that moment.
"Yes, I do," he quietly prompted me.
"Well you know......I am angry. Yes, I am angry. " I told him, my own anger and hurt starting to show through," I mean, he was executed for heaven's sake. He was a pacifist. The weapon he carried, he would have never used. "
Suddenly, I was standing and starting to pace. I felt his eyes watching me as I tried to calm myself.
"Lifeline, you know it is okay to be upset," Psyche-Out told me," We all get upset, and well you can show emotion if you want."
"Emotion! " I said," Emotion? You are talking to the Joe on this team, who is accused of having too much emotion. The man was not only my teammate but my best friend. He was a mentor, always pushing me to go further, to be more then just Lifeline the pacifist, who is snickered at behind my back. He had faith in me being on this team, when many others would have sent me back to my old Army unit. That meant quite a bit to me, after a few of the run ins around here with others," I said, sitting back down.
"Lifeline, I want you to do something then, doctor's orders," Psyche-Out placed his hands on his desk.
I know I just stared at him.
"You know, I know you have been a little edgy lately, from what a few people have told me. I know some of the people around here are not the, shall I say, nicest at times?" He continued, "I think you have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from all the missions we have had. You and Carl had not been given a break lately. Since I know you will not admit anything to me," Psyche-Out informed me," I am telling you, like I have told the others. In order not to see me as often as I would like, you are to start keeping a journal of your feelings. I think it will be a great help. Not only with this, but with your daily patient load also. Take it on your missions, I tell you this will help."
"A journal?" I repeated, denying I needed help even to myself. I was not about to argue; I would be made to stay in the office longer, and that was the last thing I wanted.
"Yes, you are. You are to bring it with you the next time I see you," Psyche-Out told me, as he handed a book to me.
"Sure thing Psyche-Out," I told him, hoping I could just get out of there.
"Good, I will see you in a few weeks Lifeline. Please, if you need anything, the office is always open."
That is how our conversation ended.

So now in order to keep from having appointments every week, I have a journal./ Yea, for me./ One more thing for me to do and of course others to find and maybe read.
Tomorrow is the funeral service for them all. I better close to get my Class A's in order....