A/N: Izzy, tell me how McKnight-ish the surgeon is. I even threw in a reference to the SOPs…hehe! And for fun, I tossed in dear Mr. Skinner, the only human from whom we gained ANY knowledge the whole semester…. Oh, hey, did you hear that the board is reviewing GN, and if he does not start to actually teach his classes something (besides bitter hatred), he's getting fired. I think it was the principal who suggested it because he HATES GN. At least, that's what Pear told me. Just a fun factoid to brighten your day, m'dear J

Could William have chosen a better day to get himself shot? Conveniently, it had to be the day Constance broke her arm. She wished she could have sprouted a third arm to keep him in the saddle as he lapsed in and out of consciousness. Tavington often slumped heavily against his sister's shoulders and nearly fell several times when he drifted off. Constance not only had to struggle with Hermes with one arm, but also had to keep her brother situated behind her with only the use of a broken limb. She grumbled about the thankless acts that constituted familial love.

She would have carried her brother into the hospital tent when she rode in to camp, but did not think it a viable option. Instead, she made as much noise as she could to draw attention to herself. Oddly enough, one of the first to rush to her aid was Captain Wilkins. He had an overtly timorous expression carved into his face. For a moment, Wilkins looked as if her were going to chide her for leaving his detachment, but the captain thought better of it when Constance caught her slipping brother.

Fife was soon on the scene, yelping out orders and assisting his superior in carrying the colonel to the surgeon. He had obviously just returned from bathing, for he was sans coat, hair was damp and curling, and his weskit unbuttoned. Constance stared after the little man as he dashed to and fro, assuming status he had never been given. Tobias caught her eyes and scurried over.

"Do you require any assistance, Mr. Carleton?" he asked a little formally.

Constance nodded. "Please, Lieutenant Fife. Just be ready to catch me."

Fife opened his arms up to her. Face quizzical. She swung her leg over the saddle and clung to the pommel with her uninjured arm as she slipped down. She had not enough strength in her one arm and toppled down painfully onto her stomach. The lieutenant picked her up. "Are you all right? That was a nasty spill."

She shook her head. "No. I think my arm is broken. I did it an hour or so ago, but it seems as if everyone in the whole legion has yanked on my bad arm in that time."

"Well, we'll get it looked at. Come with me." He put a guiding arm around her, at first around her waist, but then thought better of it and brought his arm up to her shoulders. "You'll be fixed up in no time."

"Thank you, Tobias." She smiled kindly over at him. At last--it was discovered that Tobias Fife did serve some purpose, even if it was just as an organizer and concerned friend.

"No trouble, dearie. No trouble, at all." He brushed aside the tent flap.

Sensing pain, a swarm of young surgeons massed around them, praying that there was an injured limb to amputate. The more ambitious ones of the lot had already buzzed over to their instruments and were frantically rooting around for knives and saws.

"Back, heathens!" Fife shrilled, flailing his arms. "Get away, you zealots!" When one moved in on Constance, the lieutenant heaved his shoulder into the skinny young doctor. "I said away, you cannibalistic baby Sawbones! There's nothing here for you."

A fat old surgeon waddled toward them from the corner, jowls wobbling like those of a bulldog. "What's this! Away, you foolish young 'ns! I thought you could behave yourselves much better than this. This is not in accordance to my standard procedures!" The old surgeon cleared most of his underlings. "You there," he addressed one of the retreating mass. "Remove that head covering!"

The young doctor's brow wrinkled. He had been dabbing the sweat off his forehead and had paused momentarily with his handkerchief atop his head. Rolling his eyes, he dissolved into a corner to watch Constance.

"What do you need, sir?" Who to old man was addressing was unclear.

Tobias acted and responded. "My friend here has broken his arm. Can you please help him?"

The surgeon nodded, and beckoned an assistant over to him. "This man here need to get his arm fixed. Mr. Skinner, will you please do it?"

The assistant, Mr. Skinner, smiled and sat Constance while the old surgeon waddled off behind his desk and sipped tea. Fife sneered at the old doctor and remained dutifully at Constance's side. He squeezed her hand when the doctor set the bone. Skinner worked quickly and efficiently, chatting with his patient and the lieutenant. Shortly, the nature of the injury came into question.

"This is a pretty nasty break, sir," the doctor said. "What did you do?"

"I was thrown from my horse and I landed quite heavily on it."

Skinner 'hmmed', and nodded as he finished. "Well, check in with me now and again, so we can mind its progress. All right?"

Constance nodded. "Thank you for your help."

"Indeed." Mr. Skinner rose and nodded politely to the both of them. He put away his tools. "Now, I'm afraid you will be out of commission for some time, sir. You would do well just to get some rest and do light work for the colonel…when he regains consciousness."

"What! How long is 'some time'?" Constance cried, springing up.

"Shh," Skinner said gently, indicating the wounded and sick. "A few weeks."

"B-b-b-but I can't be out for a few weeks. Define few."

"I would say between four and six."

"Between four and six?" she wailed. "That's an eternity! I can't be out for a month."

Skinner chuckled, shaking his head. "I know, I know. However, you won't be of much service to the legion with only one arm, sir."

She fell back into her seat, gloomy. "All right, I concede. It better not be any longer than that."

The doctor smiled. "Good. Now, take care of yourself."

Constance stewed. This certainly was a hitch in her plan. She never took in to consideration that she could get hurt in the process, either physically or emotionally, because she was strong and was going to protect herself and those closest to her. Now there was only a sense of failure that she felt. Not the dull throbbing of her broken arm, or the variety of other bruises from her various spills that day, only a stabbing sense of failure. William was torn up and possibly dying somewhere in a deeper part of the hospital, partitioned off from the rest. That was not necessarily her fault, and maybe because of her he had a better chance of living, but because of that stupid broken arm of hers, he was not awake and intact.

Fife sensed her displeasure and put an arm around her. He inconspicuously kissed her behind her ear then helped her up. "Come on. Let's leave this place. I've never liked doctors or hospitals."

"You can go. I'm going to wait for Will."

The lieutenant shook his head. "They'll be a while. Besides, he will need his rest after they're done with him. We'll visit him later."

The two friends left the hospital only to be greeted by a new hubbub outside. Another survivor of the massacre down by the stream had managed to drag his wracked form in and told of the location and incidents that occurred. A party had been sent out to retrieve the bodies. The corpses were being brought in to camp as Tobias and Constance exited. Fife looked around with horror as bodies of some of his comrades were being laid out beside the hospital. Suddenly Constance turned away, and fell on her knees, retching and sobbing violently.

Tobias stood over her. "What, what is it?"

John Bordon's corpse had just been flung atop a pile of bodies with the least consideration.

Next chapter: Will is at ill ease about being bed ridden and his sister

finds solace in the least likely of places.