Whatever Comes First
Disclaimer: I do not own The Patriot; if I did, I would've made Tavy live MUCH longer.
Chapter One
Colonel William Tavington lay in a medical bed, staring at the white ceiling, white walls, and grass floor. His head pounded. Nurses ran around him, aiding all the wounded soldiers from the Battle of Yorktown. He wasn't dead. He was very much alive, in fact. That silly farmer, Ben Martin, he had fallen for the same 'play dead' trick his son had.
His dignity, it was gone, though. Even the thought of lying on the ground, at the mercy of that redneck, bleeding, was horrendous.
A nurse came over, lifted the bandages from around his neck, looking at the wound to his collarbone. She poured some antiseptic into the tingling cut, and replaced the wrappings. She did the same for his stomach and his shoulder, from which the bullet had been pulled.
"Well, Colonel, I don't see an infection. You're amazing," she said, hands on hips.
"I'm more amazing when I'm on a horse," he muttered, but his upper chest began stinging, and he fell silent.
As 'The Butcher', he had to be able to do this well.
He rested his head on his pillow. As his shoulder wound began to burn, he fell into a deep sleep.
It was short, it was sweet, second chappie coming soon!