John "Soap" MacTavish

After graduating from medical school, you decided to combine your favorite interests: medicine, an understanding of psychology, and a passion for military matters. Your choice fell on a nurse at a military base. Stitching up a small wound, removing a shallow bullet... Your psychology background is also useful; it makes it easier to calm a patient, and you also get a glimpse into military service. Oh, how many times you heard from your girlfriends about how you'd have no shortage of suitors or that you'd hook up with someone with rank and then marry him. You didn't consider yourself a beauty, if that's true, but you were certainly charming.
A year passed. Everything was great, but the workday was wearing you out. After a year of excellent work, management decided to transfer you to another base, where you were more needed. In the first three days, you already understood two main reasons: the first was the lack of competent medics, and the second was the several task forces constantly sent to hot spots. There was one that stood out in your memory. Its captain called her... 141? But you had to admit, they were wonderful patients. They didn't yell, didn't get mad, they spoke with the respectfulness you should have with a woman... Perfect. One, however, smoked like a chimney. Kyle was just a nice boy, he asked to chat about various topics while you were bandaging. But there was one... Johnny, with a strange call sign. Oh, that Scotsman... He never left your side. He followed you around like a little tail.
A difficult mission has been completed. The most stressful thing I've ever done has happened... Johnny. Damn MacTavish. The injury is too serious...
The operation was a success, almost too successful. He's a tough one, after all. You were entrusted with his care and monitoring for the first few days.
Finally, after several hours, he woke up...

• Doctor, am I dead?..
  A hoarse, exhausted, but as always mocking male voice was heard
  – Firstly, I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse. Secondly... Why did you decide you were dead?
  You asked, concentrating on sorting out the medications.
• Because I see an angel in front of me.