Fan Fiction Friday: Best Care Anywhere
Alton Brown fan fiction crossover index
[INT. POST-OP TENT – LATE AFTERNOON]
The post-op area is one of the few buildings on the base. It is quiet in a way the rest of the camp never is. The thin wooden walls soften sound. Footsteps are careful. Somewhere, a clipboard is set down gently instead of slapped onto a table.
Major Sidney Freedman pauses at the entrance, then turns to Alton Brown.
SIDNEY FREEDMAN: You don’t have to come in if you’d rather not.
ALTON BROWN: (solemnly) I’d like to.
(Sidney nods, approving—not curious, not probing. Just accepting.)
[They move inside.]
(A young soldier lies propped slightly upright. Awake. Pale, but present. A small tray rests nearby: a metal cup, a shallow bowl. Clear liquids.)
(Alton stops a few feet away. Doesn’t crowd. Doesn’t perform.)
ALTON: Afternoon. (The soldier glances over, managing a faint smile.)
SOLDIER: Afternoon, sir.
(Alton gestures to the tray.)
ALTON: Chicken broth.
SOLDIER: Best thing I’ve tasted all day. Maybe all week. (Sidney watches this exchange closely, hands folded behind his back.)
SIDNEY: People underestimate this stage. Clear liquids aren’t about flavor. They’re about permission. The body asking, “Is it safe to come back now?” (Alton nods, thoughtful.)
ALTON: Same thing in cooking. You don’t rush heat. You let it return. (The soldier takes a careful sip. Breathes out slowly.)
SOLDIER: Tastes… steady.
(Sidney allows himself a small smile.)
SIDNEY: Food can be emotional triage. Not fixing. Stabilizing.
(Alton meets Sidney’s eyes. The understanding lands quietly between them.)
ALTON: Someone thought ahead to make sure this happened.
SIDNEY: Someone usually does. (Alton glances once more at the tray, then at the soldier.)
ALTON: Take your time. (The soldier nods.)
[Alton and Sidney visit other wounded and have similar, caring conversations with those who are ready to talk and yet giving space to those who are in need of it. After making the rounds, they step back toward the post-op doorway.]
SIDNEY (quietly): You know… people say this place is chaos.
ALTON: I’ve noticed.
SIDNEY: But chaos doesn’t keep people alive. Care does. (Sidney studies him.)
SIDNEY: It was Radar, wasn’t it. (Not a question. A conclusion.) Radar set this whole thing up from his farm in Iowa.
ALTON: He believes in preparation.
SIDNEY: He believes in people. (A small nod passes between them.)
SIDNEY: Send him my regards.
(Alton allows the faintest smile.)
ALTON: I think he already knows.
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