Disclaimers: I don't own Potc and the characters belonging to this franchise.
The remaining pirates left in a hurry without looking back for fear of being all killed. Now came the painful task assigned to the crew of the Dauntless, closing the eyes of the dead and looking after the mortally wounded. An unconscious Captain Norrington was being transported to the medicine quarters when Lieutenant Gillette smeared with blood rushed to his younger friend, already fearing the worst.
With the help of some crewmembers, he pushed aside the dead body of the colossal ebony pirate and put his blade above her mouth. He sighed with relief when the blade became fogged by her breath. He took a look at her to see which wound was to be tended to first. When he took off her coat, he noticed something odd; a tight bandage around her chest was visible beneath her bloodied shirt.
Lieutenant Groves, holding a rag to his left arm, was soon beside him. The two men looked at each other, puzzled; their friend had never complained about a previous wound in her chest, why hiding such a thing? Pulling up Lawrence's shirt, Gillette suddenly realized the reason and, white as a sheet, quickly tugged down the shirt.
'What? What is it? Andrew, why are you so…'
'Did you know?' he hissed.
'Know, know what? You don't make any sense.'
'So you didn't know either that he… well she…'
'He… she…' Lieutenant Groves was clearly lost but then it dawned on him. 'Oh Lord, no. This can't be real…' He looked down and noticed the swelling of a female breast beneath the reddened scarf that had gotten looser during the fighting. Looking around, he made sure nobody else had noticed, but the men were too busy to even glance at them.
'And what are we supposed to do know?' he continued.
Gillette sighed. 'I don't know… At least, Lawrence, if that's his- her real name, isn't mortally wounded. The rest is but a detail. For now.'
Then, the two carried her to a cleaner place and helped the others, waiting for her to regain her senses, which she did a dozen of minutes later.
When she woke up, she noticed that her binding scarf had indeed loosened up, so tightened it as best she could without anyone noticing it, and helped the others looking after the wounded, to worried about the life of her fellowmen to rest for a bit herself.
She helped a of the men stop his bleeding shoulder with his own coat, leaded another to the medicine quarters, and so on, until she saw the line of the dead ones, aligned on the main deck.
She feared the worst, and a quarter of it proved to be true. When she approached, she saw the lifeless smiling face of her friend Simon, and beside him, Tim. As she stared at them, her eyes began to be filled with tears. She should have tried her best to join them, she should have helped them, even though, when thinking about it, their fight was desperate as the pirates that had surrounded them were far too many for only two men. She saluted their dead bodies and stepped back. The Dauntless had lost quite a few men, not as many as the pirate ship, but still way too many.
She slightly relaxed when the hand of her friend Theodore placed itself on her shoulder. 'Lawrence, I think you should help in the medicine quarters, but please, as soon as you're done, can you find me and Andrew? We'll need to talk about something…'
Lawrence filled with tears once more, her face suddenly pale. 'What is it Theodore?' She shook her head, tears now flowing over her face. 'Please, if he is… if he is dead, I need to know now. I've already lost two friends, I can take it…'
Groves was startled by her reaction, and then he realized what she meant and smiled kindly.
'No, no don't worry, James isn't dead, he is being looked after in the medicine quarters. And I think you should…'
'Thank God! Thank you Theodore' she quickly hugged her friend, her relief overwhelming her. 'You'll have to come to the quarters too by the way, for your shoulders and the minor cuts' she said before running to the medicine quarters.
She didn't know what to expect, but once inside, the sight of the many injured struck her; she wanted to turn around and forget about the blood, the moans, and worry visibly seen on the faces of the crewmembers. But she didn't flinch, she steeled herself and put on the professional face that the doctors carry in such situations.
She ran here and there, with scissors, fresh bandages, herbs, and more importantly, her seaweeds balm. The doctor was among the injured, so that was a mild worry off her back for the moment; she would heal those men alone, and that gave them at least eighty percent more chance to live.
Some men were unconscious, which made the task of tending to their wounds easier, but others, most of them, were still awake and screaming in pain, and that's when the doctor's alcohol became handy.
James Norrington was among the first ones she treated, not out of personal care, but because he was one of the worst casualties. The blade had fortunately missed the heart, but the wound was pretty bad nonetheless. Lawrence felt her stomach tighten at the sight of her Captain lying thus unawake; she took a deep breath and pulled up his stained shirt. As she feared, she wound didn't look good, at all. With a clean wet rag, she cleaned the wound, trying her best to forget that the man she was administrating her care was James Norrington. A couple of hours ago, the mere thought of touching his bare chest would have sent shivers down her whole body, but now wasn't the time for such inconsiderate ideas, now the life she held the dearest was threatened, and she would accept no other alternative than saving him. And so, with the focus of an expert and the expertise of someone who had years of embroidery behind her, she sewed him back, then put some of the balm she had made a couple of days ago. She places a wet rag on his forehead and tended to his minor injuries. Once she considered she could not do anything else for him at the moment, she concluded that he could, no, he would survive if he woke from his coma, and then he would need to be cared for for quite some time, but that wasn't the least of her worry.
Time wasn't on her side, and though she had barely spent a dozen of minutes on her Captain, this meant twelve crucial minutes to others. She spent the next two hours running from patient to patient, the crew members in the best state, counting among them Groves and Gillette, helping her by doing basic treatments under her orders. With the help of one sturdy man whose name she couldn't remember, she sewed a man's leg, but his life slipped through her fingers in spite of her quick intervention. Another man died in her hands, he was one of the pirates but that didn't stop her from treating him as any other, he was first and foremost a man, no matter whose ship he belonged to.
'And now, you sit Lawrence!' said Gillette forcing her down a chair.
'But I can't, I've got so many things to do, look at those men…'
'You have done all you can for them, now you should rest a bit while Theodore and myself look after you.'
His tone of voice told her that he wouldn't accept no for an answer, so she sat further in her chair and stared blankly at the floor waiting for any opportunity to help the men on the deck.
At one point, Groves went to the cabinets asking Gillette to help him with something.
'We have to talk to Lawrence about… about what we know.'
'Can't this wait at least until tomorrow? He-she's clearly exhausted, we wouldn't want him to break at our feet. He's our friend!'
'Yes, alright alright, tomorrow then.' They both went to where their Captain was.
'I wonder if James knew… That would explain a lot of things actually. Such as why they were clearly next to each when he got stabbed and that I heard him scream his- her name…'
Groves shook his head in puzzlement.
'I don't think I can answer either of your questions, Andrew… Do you think he'll survive?' he said, his voice cracking on the last word.
'Of course he will!' Gillette replied, though his voice sounded flat because he wasn't sure about that either. 'James would never leave us because of a stupid wound inflicted by a pirate.' He patted his Captain's pale hand before turning his back to see how Lawrence was, but he wasn't surprised when he saw her chair empty.
Lawrence was helping some men cleaning up the mess the attack had made. In itself, the ship hadn't suffered one bit, except from a torn sail and some ropes cut and blood on the decks. The attack had taken its toll on the men, assailants and members of the Dauntless.
The Captain of the ship being incapacitated, the decisions were to be made by his higher subordinate officers, however, Lieutenant Commander Flanders was among the people killed during the attack, leaving the commands to the Lieutenants Gillette and Groves.
She was relieved to see they were not scolding her for not resting any longer, but when they asked for the bodies to be dropped to the sea as soon as possible after the funeral ceremony, for fear of spreading any disease to the survivors, and she volunteered to help prepare the fallen men to their last journey, they gave her the express order of staying with the wounded in the medicine quarters. She tried to argue but being her superiors, she complied.
An hour or two later, Groves went to the medicine quarters and asked her, with a solemn voice, to join Andrew on the main deck while he helped the injured men to assist at the funeral service that would be held in a moment.
The men had waited for her to say her final goodbyes to Simon and Tim before sewing up the sheet they were laid into.
A lump in her throat and tears running down her face, she looked at those faces she would see for the last time, and remembered the wonderful moments she had spent with them. They had been the first friends she had had on board, and Simon had been of such great help. She would miss his smiles, his bear hugs, and his made-up stories.
