Doctors Without Morals

This was inspired by a character in a series by Richard Gerard. Check out his work, it's pretty good.

*****

"Bubble baths."

"Merlot."

Starbucks"

"Ice Cream."

Netflix."

"Sex."

"With our husbands."

That sent us into a fit of giggles. The other passengers on the plane smiled, the sight of two attractive women obviously very happy sparking a positive response. I was a doctor, a surgeon, and Solange was an emergency room nurse when she was home. When we were in some shithole African country, she and I were whatever was needed at the time. We delivered babies, set bones, we even assisted the resident dentist if he needed someone. It was my second and her third time with Doctors Without Borders.

The first time was very hard on me physically and mentally. I lost 20 pounds that I really couldn't spare and almost went out of my mind from depression. I literally counted the seconds before I got home, falling into my husband's arms and crying hysterically for ten minutes. Then I gathered myself and grabbed my then seven-year-old son, hugging and kissing him until he was almost fighting me to be turned loose.

I soon discovered my husband was a bit cool towards me for the first few days after I returned. It seemed he harbored a lot of resentment about me going in the first place. I still remember the not quite arguments we had over it.

"Let someone else save the world, honey. You have people who need you more right here at home."

"People are dying. People I could save."

"You save plenty of lives right here at home, and you get to sleep in our own bed without fear of being raped or murdered."

"It isn't that bad. I could save a lot more people there than I could here. We're protected and I'll make sure I'm in a safe place."

"Shall I pull up stats for you?"

Sometimes I hated his job. He was a freelance writer, taking assignments on any number of subjects from anyone willing to pay him. He was meticulous in his research, and if he quoted something it could be verified quickly. He'd started out small, doing it part time, mostly as a hobby, but now he wrote for major newspapers and magazines. He'd even won a couple of awards for excellence.

Then one of his friends set him up with his own YouTube channel, where he did short opinion pieces about anything that interested him. In three years, he had almost two million subscribers and his yearly revenue from advertisers was almost a hundred grand a year, after fees. All in all, he made as much, and sometimes more, a year than I did. Just before I left, he'd been invited to be a contributor to CNN, mostly puff pieces to dispel the relentless seriousness of the service.

Our niece told him he was an influencer now, and he had no idea what she was talking about. She defined it for him, and naturally he researched it. Then he did a piece on his channel, warning people to make sure what they were told was accurate, no matter how successful the person sharing the information was. "We all have agendas, even if we don't consciously realize it. It's why I strive to be so impartial in my work. Just because I believe in something doesn't mean you have to. It doesn't mean I'm right, or I'm wrong. It means you take everything with a grain of salt. Don't blindly take anything I or anyone else says for gospel, and use your own judgment. In other words, think for yourself. Sadly, that's a habit that has been declining in recent years."

It took five months before he accepted I was going. Then it took another three months before I left. I was on an emotional high, and he was still chilly. "I'll be home before you know it."

The incredible sadness in his eyes still stays with me today. "You realize nothing will ever be the same? I'll no longer trust you to place the interests of your family first. I'm telling you this now, not asking. This is the only time. You run away from your family again and you won't have one when you get back." I was still reeling from what he said when he pulled my crying baby from my arms and walked away without looking back.

I was sent to an African country that was about as backwards as you could get once you got outside the urban areas. My operating theatre was a tent: a not so securely set up tent. In the summer months the winds blew relentlessly and it was nothing to be in the middle of an operation when a corner of the tent would fly up, covering everything with dust. it's a wonder they didn't all die of infections. Still, we saved a lot of people.

I delivered four babies while I was there, one to a mother that was just past puberty herself. The pregnancy was from rape. She lived in an unsafe area and her village was overrun by insurgents. Every female in the village was raped, many multiple times. She managed to flee when the man assaulting her passed out. She put his knife through his throat, took everything that was valuable off him, including his rifle and pistol, and ran. They chased her for six days before they reached their limits. She managed to shoot two while she escaped, and as soon as she was fit for travel, she left the baby, took up her rifle, and disappeared.

Rumors started abounding about an avenging angel, then a group of angels. The insurgents left the area.

In three months, I was climbing the walls. The fear and anxiety never let up. I was bunking with Solange for the first time and I asked her one day why she was so calm while I was a wreck.

"I can tell you the cure. You need a good fucking. One of those bed breaking, I can't count the orgasms because they come so fast poundings."

"That would probably work with single women like you. I'm married."

She grinned and pulled up some pictures on her phone. There was a couple of little girls and a very handsome man in the frame. "My husband and children."

"But you sleep with Jean-Luc!"

"Yes, and if he isn't available, I share a bed with Eric. Look at everyone's hand, honey. There are no rings allowed here. Kind of symbolic, really. No one is married here, and what happens in country stays in country. We go back to our husbands and wives and devote ourselves to them, until we come back again. I make a point of giving my rings to my husband when I leave, and the first thing he does when I get home is put them back on me. A reclaiming."

"Doesn't anyone get caught?"

"One of the doctors did, a couple of years back. We're medical professionals and she forgot her birth control. Then there was a condom shortage, and she tried different methods but was two months pregnant when she got home. Her husband was pretty good with math and the truth came out. They divorced, and the organization paid him off not to go public with it. The doctor was never allowed to serve again."

"What about diseases?"

She rolled her eyes. "Medical professionals, remember? We test at least once a month, and if something slips through, we handle it quickly. Think about it, hon. No one will ever know."

I made it for five months, then I lost a mother and her child to an IED. They were mostly in pieces when they brought them in and I tried everything in my power but they were just too damaged. The woman died in my arms begging me to save her baby. The child had been gone ten minutes by then.

I was a mess and ended up drinking most of a bottle of bourbon, waking up in a strange bed with one of the male nurses. Before I could say anything, he got on top of me again, and I just gave up and let the release wash over me. Rodrigo never left my bed until his rotation was up and I had a doctor replace him in four days. He lasted the rest of our tour.

I knew my husband would know the first time he looked at me, but he was too busy still working through his anger at me leaving to notice. It took four months to get back into his bed and I have to admit many times as my husband and I had sex I'd think back to the staying power of Rodrigo or the sheer size of Michel. I tried to keep those memories tamped down, but every once in a while, I'd be alone in the house and I'd get the really large vibrator out of the secret hiding place and really work myself over, crying out both of my lovers' names at different times.

A year went by and we were back to normal. Then the organization called me, asking me to be an emergency fill in for three months. I was replacing a woman who'd been involved in an auto accident. I never told my husband it was from a mortar hitting too close.

We had a terrible fight that lasted three days. Finally, he threw his hands up. "You do whatever you have a mind to do. Just don't expect us to be waiting when you get home. I'll try to keep this civil if you will. I intend to ask for custody. It will be hard for you to get it, being subject to just taking off for months or a year at a time. No judge in his or her right mind is going to let Tommy live with you."

Well, I never saw that coming. It was only 13 weeks and I'd be right back. I tried to reason with him. He stayed in the house for Tommy, but he barely spoke to me until I left.

I didn't think he would, but he took me to the airport. "I didn't do it for you. I did it for me. The sight of you walking away knowing what you'll lose if you do is something I need to see to sustain me over the next few months. Things will be totally different when you get back. No need to rush. If they need you for a month, a year, or the rest of your life, that's just fine."

He turned without another word and left me standing there. I knew he meant it. I knew if I wanted my family I needed to hurry after him. I resolved to fix this as soon as I got home, and turned to the ticket line.

Solange greeted me with a hug when I got to the site. If possible, it was even shittier than the last place. "I'm glad you're here! Don't bother unpacking. Gear up, we need you pretty bad."

There had been a mortar attack on a village forty miles away, and I was surprised at the number who survived long enough to make it to the clinic. My team worked eleven hours without a break. About half our patients would survive, pretty good considering everything. Five died on my table. After the fourth, I just turned to the new table and started working while they removed the body and set the table up for the next patient. One I lost was a nine-year-old girl. Her heart stopped as she cried for her mother.

I was beyond numb. Solange guided me into the communal shower and helped me clean up. Modesty was burned out of you pretty quickly; there wasn't a lot of time so the shower was coed. It stopped being shocking to walk in on shower sex after three or four times; you just moved to the other side and tried to ignore them.

Then she crawled into the bunk and held me while I cried myself to sleep.

By the next week, I was acclimated. We talked about our last rotation and our return. Solange glowed when she talked about the catch-up sex, and how she almost didn't come this time.

"He's starting to lose his patience and I can't fault him. He let me do three tours and I think this is it for me. How's your husband handling it? I remember he wasn't too happy with the last time."

"He says he's going to file for divorce and go for custody, using my service here against me. I'm hoping I can mend fences when I get home, but it took him forever to warm up to me again last time."

"I wouldn't worry, hon. It's probably his fear about your safety talking. He'll probably keep you on a very short leash for a while, but he'll forgive you and get over it eventually. I wouldn't push your luck, though. The organization appreciates everything you've done, but eventually you have to put yourself first."

"I hope you're right. I'm going to do my very best to make it up to him when I get home, and I absolutely won't serve another tour. Time for someone else to save the world."

Then I grinned. "So then, who's warming your bed now?"

She giggled like a school girl. "Gerard. He's from Algiers and very talented as a doctor, among his other attributes. You gonna hook up?"

"No. It's only a few weeks. I can handle it."

Two weeks later I was screaming in orgasm as Gerard's tongue lashed my clit repeatedly. When I stopped quivering, he slid up and plunged into my pussy for the third time in 24 hours.

How did that happen? Jean-Luc came back and Solange immediately threw Gerard over for her old lover. I was starting to get the itch again and one thing led to another. We humped like bunnies for four weeks, and I cried when we parted.

I sat on the plane, planning. There was no way I was ever going back and I had to really push this to Brian, make him understand it was out of my system and I'd be a good little wife from now on. Solange told me to work my way back into his heart through our son, then she laughed.

"Remember, you may have been scratching your itch, but he hasn't. He has to be horny as hell. Wear revealing things around him, rub up against him as much as possible. Reroute his blood flow from the big head to the little head and let things happen. He'll be back in the fold in no time."

That turned out to be a little more difficult than I thought. He wasn't there when I got home. My mother had our child and said he told her it was too good an opportunity to pass up and he'd be gone for ten more days. That was a blessing because it gave me a lot of time to concentrate on my son. If I could get him back the rest would be easy.

*****

While I was plotting the resurrection of my family, I was later to learn that Brian was sitting in the corporate offices of the organization, talking to the head psychiatrist.

"Thank you for your interest in our charity, Mr. Oliver. We can use all the publicity we can get. We are, after all, funded by donations."

"It seems a worthwhile cause, giving services badly needed where they are least expected. I know you understate it, but your organization has lost people over the years, and it has to figure in the mind of any volunteer you get."

"It does. It's why we do a full profile of their mental state before we accept them. Sadly, it's a noble cause, but it isn't for the weak of heart. Some have breakdowns from the stress and there have been more than a few in recent years to suffer from PTSD. We offer them full support for as long as they need it."

"It seems like you try and take good care of your people. Do many do more than one rotation?"

"There are some, but we put a cap on four tours and we don't encourage those. Two is the norm."

"With all that happens around them, how do they deal with the stress while they're serving?"

"It's difficult, but they offer each other support, to bolster their spirits and lessen their fears."

"I must confess something to you, Dr. Parkins. I did a little research on the number of divorces and relationship failures of people that have served two or more terms, and it's unusually high. Care to share an opinion?"

The doctor went quiet for a bit. "Some people don't deal well with the situations they find themselves in and look for any comfort, as misplaced as it may be, where they can find it. We strive to help repair any relationship that's damaged."

"So then, you consider the failed marriages and broken relationships acceptable collateral damage? The needs of the many versus the needs of the few? Would that argument fly with spouse of doctors, nurses, and technicians about to be left behind, wondering if they would have a marriage when they returned?"

"I don't like where you're going with this interview. Stories like this would have a negative impact on the organization."

"Yes, my research has shown that you like to sweep these things under the rug and keep them in the shadows. I've found at least three instances when considerable money changed hands to keep it out of the public eye. Do your donors have any idea they're funding that?"

The doctor stood. "I believe this interview is over, Mr. Oliver. I urge you to consider what you write. People lose jobs reporting such trash."

The man grinned, which unsettled the Doctor. "I also found that in my background checks. It's one of the reasons I enjoy being independent. I don't have to yield to pressure."

He walked to the door and turned. "Just for general information, you should look up Dr. Hope Oliver. I believe she has done work for you."

He turned and walked out the door. As soon as it shut the doctor held his head in his hands. It seemed this was personal to the man, and being independent meant there might be little pressure they could put on him. He checked up on Brian Oliver, astounded at the number of followers he had. Then he remembered seeing him on CNN. The situation could get ugly fairly quickly. He called his assistant. "Get me the dossier on Dr. Hope Oliver. She may still be in country somewhere. If she's home I need her contact information. This is a priority one, Benjamin."

He stared at the phone for a second after his assistant disconnected, took a breath, and called the CEO.

*****

I got a phone call that surprised me. It was the charity, and the man calling was very high up in the hierarchy. "Dr. Oliver, we need you to come to our headquarters as soon as possible. It's very urgent."

"Why? Now is not a good time for me to leave home. My husband is off on an assignment and I'm the primary caregiver for our son right now. Plus, I've resumed my duties at the hospital and I have surgeries scheduled. And in case you haven't read my file, you should. I won't be serving again. It was a very gratifying experience, but it's time for me to be with my family. My husband wasn't very supportive of my service."

"Your husband is exactly the reason we're calling. He was here yesterday and said some very disturbing things. Things that could hurt us badly in the public eye. We're trying to get a handle on it and it would be in your best interests to come see us."

I felt like the blood was draining from my body. Brian was like a bloodhound; once he struck a scent, he'd chase it to the ends of the earth if he thought it was worth it. Doctors and nurses are by nature a pretty gossipy bunch, and if some of them talked about what happened overseas it could be very, very bad for a whole lot of people.

The first thing I did after I hung up was call Solange and tell her what the man said. I'd bragged to her what a good journalist Brian was, and we got to watch him one night in France, as we were flying out, when he was on CNN.

"Jesus Christ! This could be disastrous! My husband is not a forgiving man and he'd leave me in a heartbeat. You need to get hold of your husband, Hope. Beg, promise him anything to keep him from doing this. Think of the others; almost all of us are married. This thing could blow up over three continents."

I called Brian a dozen times and they all went to voicemail. He didn't respond to any email or texts, and I was at a loss. I had no idea where he was or how to get a message to him. I rearranged my schedule, citing a family emergency because for me this qualified, and flew to New York. I got there at nine in the morning and went straight to their headquarters.

Dr. Parkins, who'd done my evaluation before I could join, met me at reception and took me straight to his office. After the standard pleasantries he got down to why I was there.

"Your husband seems to be quite the angry man, Doctor. I'm going to ask you some hard questions that I assure you will never be discussed outside this building and you MUST be honest if any of us are to survive this. Are you ready?"

I nodded, knowing what was coming. "Did you have sex with any of the other personnel in your assignments? If so, who? Were you careful, did you discourage public displays of attention, talk out of turn to anyone outside the organization?"

I named my two long term lovers and two more I'd had a "lost weekend" with. Dr. Parkins kept his face neutral and I wondered what he thought of me when I was done.