John Holliday: Isolated, Secluded Yet Still Wanted.

[Doc Holliday]

Folks, here begins the return of Doc Holliday. This thread is an invite only so make your request. A few things to keep in mind. Doc is in seclusion and only two people know how to get a hold of him. Your character will be escorted in RP to him. Please, no power or metagaming. This is an opportunity to get him back to his old self, possibly working with a faction although not necessarily being IN said faction. This could be professional. It could be romantic. It could be both. For those who know me, I love good RP so bring your A game and I've had some time to think this RP line through so I have a vision. Let the RP begin.

It had been close to a year since John Holliday "slipped off the grid." With Med Force Enterprises flourishing and under strong management, he decided to take time to address his own depression. Thousands were saved each month in his facilities yet Doc himself wasn't well. For the past few years, he kept it well hidden to most. Only a few of his most trusted professional friends knew his state of mind wasn't well. It would finally take one of his most trusted friends, Dr. Alec Rice, aboard Med Force One to say to him, "Doc, you need to get well. Things are good here and will still be here when you get back. Take some time to yourself....as much as you need.
Rice was right. Ever since his divorce from Midori and her subsequent death, he felt tremendous guilt. He never got over his being gone so much and he blamed himself. For a time, his short relationship with Ashley helped him but she was gone too. Guilt over the decline of TAZ also bothered him. He promised his old friend's memory that he would carry the torch. To this day, he would apologize to Malaclypse each morning. He found closure in one of the last conversations he had with him in which he said, "Doc, we need to keep things in perspective." In those words he knew that he had done all he could for TAZ so turning the reigns over to new leadership was due.
Nowadays, Doc made his lakeside getaway on Erie his permanent home of late. It was of old world with only a few modern upgrades. A single solar cell powered the low band com system he used and even then, only sparingly so. Oil lamps were the usual light of choice and an old style wood stove was used to cook and heat. He loved his old, rustic style. It was peaceful and away from the conflicts that plagued the Sirius sector. It was if he old diplomatic efforts were for not. He was quite literally a world away from it all. A lone shop keeper in an outpost just over an hour away by ground vehicle was his only contact with the rest of the universe. Either he or Doc's eldest daughter, Emiko, would bring in supplies as needed.
Emiko herself was now eighteen and independent. She had her mother's old gunship and made regular trips to Honshu, her mother's place of birth. She was a carbon copy of her mother. Based on her appearance, no one would guess that she was the daughter of a famous physician and ambassador and for her own privacy, she seldom mentioned it. She was an attractive young lady but had her father's quick temper. Like her father, she also practiced the Zoner way of life.
Doc himself let himself go a bit. He had a full beard and hair about mid back length. The lake was his only bath source so it wasn't uncommon for him to look "mountain man" in appearance. He would wear a shirt that was unbuttoned up the middle if he wore one at all but he always kept his pistols handy. A bottle of liquor wasn't an uncommon site when he was settled in for a day and he re-discovered a pipe of sweet tobacco.
He started this day like any other. He greeted the morning on his dock with a fly rod. Back and forth he waved that pole until he threw the line out for the fish. Several times, he would pull in his meal for the day. Others, he would pull it in and re-cast or let one go that was too small. On some mornings, he would go out in his canoe to try a new spot but not on this morning. He was having good luck off the dock. He brought in his catch of lake trout to prepare for the smokehouse.
He gutted each fish and removed the heads. He was as good with a fillet knife as he was a scalpel. He hummed a soft song as he worked and sipped on a cup of fresh brewed coffee. The humming was replaced with deep thoughts of what was next. He wanted to just stay here forever but knew that he couldn't. He had too much invested and his hands and knowledge were always sought. The thoughts of political life was a turn off and quite often, working aboard Med Force One was very political with one group taking exception to their rivals receiving treatment quite often in the next room over. His run ins with the Corsairs, Outcasts and Bounty Hunters were well known but he respected them just the same. They were powerful groups and often well led. To be on a bounty board for one of them was a death sentence. Still, it was the thing that Doc hated about his work and was keeping him from coming back.
He finished the last fish. Putting his knife in the sink, he took his catch to the smoke house and hung them. Each was hung neatly so that it would get the smokey flavor evenly. As he hung them, some of the men whom he had dealt with in the past came to mind, men he respected and men who's good reputation that he had with often saved his own people from disaster. Miguel Sephardi of the Corsair brotherhood quite often saved his people from slaughtering Zoners. He was also a man he considered an old friend. As to his whereabouts now, Doc had no clue.
Premier Alvin Katz was another. As with Sephardi, the two men often disagreed on matter but did so respectfully and often found middle ground. Doc smiled a bit as he remembered his first official visit to Omega 52 with his late wife at his side. His face then went straight as the thoughts of the words Alvin once said to Doc resonated in his head. He remembered the situation too that day when he learned that he was working with what turned out to be a Bretonian MI operative working as a spy against the SCRA. When the guns were pointed, Doc's instincts were to draw only to have his old friend, Alvin stop him. "Don't, John, they will kill you! You are a man of peace." While his good reputation with Alvin and the SCRA remained, it was his last visit to an SCRA base.
Walking from the smoke house to the stable where George and Gracie lived, the thoughts of his relations with the Junkers came to mind as well, in particular Arbiter Jack Crowe and Finnegan. Oh the trouble he got into with Finnegan in Iverness. The liquor, the cards and even the encroaching women. With Jack though, is was all business. Together, he forged some mutual projects with the Junkers to include trade and medicine. He missed Jack as the Junkes just weren't the same without him. Of course, having been in isolation now for so long, he didn't really know.
So with the fish cleaned and hung and the horses fed, Doc returned to his cabin. The sun was rising over the lake and with a fresh cup of coffee in hand, he sat in his dock chair to enjoy the view. He gave little thought, at least for the moment, on what he would do. He always told himself that he would "worry about it tomorrow" but that was too many yesterdays gone by. He knew it was time to get back to work, to get back to being a father and to get back to being the entrepanuer that he had turned into. He had no desire for returning to his ambassadorial robes but knew getting to work on Med Force One would likely mean at least some small diplomacy issues. But as he sipped his coffee in thought, he asked himself, "Where do I re-start?"

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[MFE]Med Force One | Tales of Recovery|Med Force Enterprises