~NEXT MORNING~

I sat in a wooden chair by the bedside, half asleep. I had managed to remove the bullet and keep him alive as well. It had taken removing his coat and undershirt, but I had bandaged the wound after sterilizing it to prevent further blood loss and infection. Now it was just a matter of waiting for him to wake up. I glanced over at him.

He had whimpered and twitched even while unconscious, no doubt feeling each pull of the needle as I stitched his wound. A groan brought me back to the present. But he had begun to move again, though not like a conscious person. He was twitching at the hands and feet, and a small, nearly inaudible whimper came from him. The grimace of pain soon turned to fear, quickly letting me know he was having a nightmare.

Standing up I made my way over and stood by the bed, ready to wake him if it became too violent for him.

Another whimper, louder this time, broke the silence as his twitching became more profound. "N-No," he murmured, gradually thrashing harder and harder.

Ok, time to step in, I thought, and lunged forward to grab him by both arms.

He immediately tried to fight me in his sleep. The action probably transferred to the dream realm and manifested in the form of a demon attacking him. "No! Get off! Let me go! Please!" he screamed.

Whatever was attacking him must have been pretty scary. I didn't want him to tear the stitches and get it bleeding again. Using my foot, I quickly dragged over some rope and with a quick jerk of my foot into the air I tossed it up and grabbed it in midair. Acting fast, I managed to get his arms secured by his sides and he tied down.

"Help! Let me go!" he wailed, still thrashing around. But the ropes held strong. "Please! Help! Help! Mercy!" His nightmare was reaching a peak, tears starting to flow from his eyes. "Oh God, I'll do anything! Anything! Spare me please! Please! No! NO!"

Grabbing a glass of water, I threw it into his face. As expected, his eyes shot open and he gasped at the sudden cold.

"Ah! W-What-"

"You were having a nightmare. I didn't want you to reopen the wound so I had to tie you down." I paused, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What was the nightmare about?" I asked as I began to untie him.

Eyes wide and haunted, he rasped, "It… it was the r-rebels. They were h-hunting me. They had caught me… they were going to kill me." He paused, shaking terribly as I slipped the ropes off him. "I d-didn't even do anything wrong. I was only t-trying to find my squad. I g-got lost, it was dark…" He stumbled off, eyes haunted. "T-They were laughing at me. Taunting me, h-hitting me… then o-one… h-he took his knife and… " Henry could not continue, body wracked with tremors. He grabbed my wrist in an iron grip. "P-Please, I beg you. D-Don't let the rebels find m-me," he pleaded, green eyes glistening with tears. "Please."

"Henry…" I said softly, placing my hand over the one gripping my wrist. "You do realize I am a rebel, aye?"

If there was a face that portrayed terror in its strongest state, it would be Henry's. I thought the man would either piss himself or pass right back out. He quickly jerked his hand back and tucked it protectively to his chest. "W-What?!" he yelped, shrinking down and scooting as far from me as he possibly could.

"What's wrong, mate? Scared I'll gut you?" I asked dryly, a groan in the back of my throat as he gave the typical reaction of a soldier being caught with his pants figuratively down by an enemy while said solider was too badly wounded to fight.

I only received a nod in return, Henry too scared to speak. He looked like a cowering dog who expected to be hit at any moment and it honestly made my stomach twist at how terror stricken he looked.

I said in a gentler tone, "Henry. I didn't spend two hours fixing your wound to simply kill you once you woke up."

"B-B-But if you're a r-rebel… that means you'll t-turn me over to them," he said.

"No, I actually don't intend to do so, as long as you behave and don't cause trouble," I responded, making no move to drag him closer. I had worked with men like him before, and the key to keeping them calm and docile was to not appear threatening. If you were threatening, they would fear you. If they feared you, they would try to escape to where they felt safe. Their regiment or a fort. If they didn't fear you or at least trusted you not to kill or hurt them if they just did what you told them to, they were less likely to try and escape. In Henry's case, running was a very poor idea.

"But won't they brand you a traitor and try to hang you if they knew you helped heal me?" Henry asked, the fear gradually disappearing from his eyes and face.

I gave a small snort. "They wouldn't dare," I muttered, then cleared my throat and continued, "Don't worry. You are safe here."

He blinked a few times, uncertainty clear in his expression. Then he said, "T-Thank you, miss…" He looked at me, realizing he didn't know my name.

"Just call me Ice for now," I told him, walking over to the chest on the opposite side of the room to grab him a towel and clothes to change into. "And do kindly drop the miss. Just Ice. Miss in my opinion is a wee bit condescending."

"Er, alright. But…Ice? How did you come by that name? If you don't mind me asking, of course," Henry added quickly.

I turned, clothes and towel in hand, to see him propped up on his elbows. I huffed. "Well, lookie what I caught. A polite bloody back. That's new. As for my nickname, have you looked at my eyes?" I asked. I handed the towel to him.

Henry looked up and met my gaze. He held it as he took the towel before breaking his gaze off. "Oh… I see now." He slowly brought the towel up, mindful of the stitches, and wiped off his face. After doing so he looked back up at me. "Wait… what do you mean by a polite soldier being a rare occurrence? Aren't all of the King's men gentlemen?" he asked.

I laughed harshly before I realized he was honestly confused, brows furrowed and lips turned down in a small frown. "You're… you're serious! Damn. Well, I'd shake some sense into you the old fashioned way, but I don't want to waste two plus hours of work," I said.

Henry grimaced in pain as he slowly moved his legs around and planted his feet on the wooden floor. "I don't follow. What happened to give you such a negative outlook on my men?"

I sighed. "Just, quite a few less than favorable run-ins, one even tried to sexually force himself upon me. But I'm sure it wasn't any of your men. You seem like a good guy," I explained.

Henry's frown deepened. "All soldiers should behave like gentlemen," he protested, "They are disgracing the Crown and their country if they do not."

I rolled my eyes. So, he was going to be the oyster shell type. Rooted in the mud and unwilling to be open. "Women are supposed to be dainty, submissive housewives who wear dresses, never cuss, and should never be alone with any male who is not her spouse or father. Yet here I am, ready to kick some ass and dealing with your shit, alone. So you see, things are often not what they should be. But enough of that." I slipped his arm around my shoulders and helped him stand. "Let's go into the living space. I'll make some cider, and we can discuss our views."

The captain groaned when I lifted him up, but proceeded to try and joke. "Hey, why not tea?" He knew damn well about how rebels felt about that.

I huffed a mockingly angry breath through my teeth. "Don't press your luck!"