Author's Note: This chapter delivers on the Hurt with a capital H. Nothing too graphic, but I like to make my heroes suffer. So much more room for Comfort then.

When the drug kicked in William felt like he was floating in his own mind. It was a strange sensation, not so much like a dream but rather like a trip down memory lane. Flashes of the past came and went - many of them involving Peggy. And suddenly he found himself back on that overturned train carriage, desperately reaching for Peggy's hand. He experienced once more the relief that flooded him as their fingers finally met and he was able to haul her from the compartment. She appeared dazed but seemed unharmed except for a cut across her palm. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go again, but he knew that it was not safe around the crashed train.

After dropping Peggy to the ground as gently as he could, and watching her stagger away from the wreck per his instructions, William turned around to look for more survivors. Strangely, time appeared to be slowing down as if his brain did not really want to face what was coming next. It felt as if he was moving through treacle as he made his way along the top of the carriage, checking the compartments below for any trapped passengers, towards the front end where he stopped. From his vantage point he could see into the cabin of the train engine, where the stoker lay bleeding, trapped under a heavy metal beam. His frightened gaze met William's eyes, and he held out an arm in supplication.

William knew the risk involved in trying to save this man. The steam tank of the engine might very well explode at any minute. But he could not leave the stoker to his fate without at least trying. While William was standing there considering his options he felt something cool slide up inside his left sleeve. He frowned and looked down, but there was nothing there which would explain the strange sensation. Shaking his head, he concentrated once again on the task at hand. It was just a short drop to the coal tender below, and William sat down on the edge of the carriage, getting ready to lower himself.

At that moment everything stopped, the moment frozen in time as if his mind refused to let him go any further. He strained to move but his muscles would not obey him. Then suddenly a searing pain erupted in his arm; he screamed, and as if on cue the events started picking up again at incredible speed. He felt the heat of the explosion before his eyes registered the fireball, or his ears heard the thunderous roar. The blast sent him backwards, tumbling head over heels across the top of the carriage until he fell off the side. The impact on the ground drove the air from his lungs, and he heard a sharp crack as he landed on his left arm with his full body weight. But he did not feel the hurt, because his arm had been on fire all along.

Sobbing with pain he tried to roll over on his side to cradle the burning limb, but he felt restraining hands holding him back. He tried to fight them, thrashing as much as his weakened body would permit, and with desperate determination he managed to lift his shoulders a few inches off the ground. This small victory made him struggle all the harder, but then suddenly something snapped in his chest and a stabbing pain that tore through his insides took his breath away. He fell back with a strangled cry. Still fighting to draw air into his starving lungs he felt the grip of the hands on his shoulders tighten, and then another flash of liquid fire erupted in his arm. William was almost thankful when a black void opened up to claim him.

- 0 - 0 - 0 -

When William became bonelessly limp and ceased his struggles Mrs. Hargrave reluctantly pulled her hands away from his shoulders. There were tears in her eyes, and she surreptitiously wiped them away with the back of her hand. It would not do if the doctor saw her, a mere employee, shed tears over a member of the family. It just wasn't proper. She had only been with the Buxtons for a couple of years; she had loved her work as an army nurse, but she was getting on in years and had to find a less taxing occupation. It did not take long for William to win her motherly affection with his open and friendly manner, his kind heart and his idealism. To see him in such pain and having to forcibly hold his writhing form down simiply broke her heart. She was so lost in her grief over what he had to suffer that she did not even hear when the doctor spoke her name.

"Mrs. Hargrave?" The surgeon was surprised when he had to repeat the housekeeper's name to get a reaction. So far the woman had been of exemplary attention and diligence. But then he remembered that she had been up all night watching over the patient.

"I'm so sorry, sir, my mind must have wandered there for a moment."

"No need to apologize, my good woman, you must be exhausted after your vigil. But as far as I know a young lady will arrive today, a cousin of our William, who will be able to help you out with the nursing." He looked at his pocket watch. "I'm glad you'll have somebody to assist you. I have a full slate of calls today, so I will have to leave the patient in your care until the evening."

"Oh, that's quite alright, sir. I'm used to sitting up all night with the wounded from my time at the field hospital. We are only expecting Miss Erminia around teatime, but I will be fine until then."

The physician nodded and handed Mrs. Hargrave the bottle of disinfectant which he had just poured over the wound on William's arm. The cloth he used to pat it dry came away bloody, and he leaned forward to check for any signs of infection. The rims of the surtured gash were puffy and pink but that was well within normal range for a ragged injury such as this. Satisfied, the doctor sat back up.

"No sign of infection so far. Hopefully we'll be able to keep it at bay. The disinfectant should be applied twice a day, morning and night. You can carry out the procedure when I'm not here, but I suggest you let somebody assist you and hold him down. I don't want him to move too much just yet."

Mrs. Hargrave nodded. "Should I continue to give him Laudanum before I clean his arm?"

"Only if he needs it for pain in general. Luckily the treatment should become less agonizing as the wound heels." They both looked at the young man, and when the housekeeper saw the sweat that was beading on his forehead from his ealier struggle she took a piece of cloth from the bedside table and gently wiped it away. "It is a credit to you as a nurse, Mrs. Hargrave, that you wish to spare a patient suffering. But remember, Laudanum can be a blessing, but it can easily turn into a curse. Addiction comes very quickly so it should only be applied when absolutely necessary."

"I understand, sir. You can rely on me."

"I know I can." The surgeon gave her an encouraging smile. "Now please hand me my stethoscope, I want to check his lungs before I go."

When listening to William's chest the doctor was glad that he found no indication of fluid building up in the lungs. For a moment he debated whether he should listen to his back as well, but then decided that moving the patient would probably do more harm than good. When he returned in the evening this omission could be remedied. Also, he would have two helpers then, which would make it easier to support William during the maneuver. The physician also palpitated the young man's abdomen and found no signs of resistance which could have indicated internal bleeding.

When the surgeon left the sickroom he found Mr. Buxton waiting outside the door. He had expected nothing less, and was glad that he had good news to give.

"William is holding up very well. He has a slight temperature, but the wound and his vital signs are not giving us any cause for concern so far."

Mr. Buxton visibly relaxed at this positive report. "I am very grateful to you, doctor. When will it be possible for me to see him again?"

"He's unconscious right now, so not really suited to have visitors." When the physician saw the flash of worry on the father's face he quickly added, "This is no cause for alarm, I had to submit your son to a rather painful but necessary procedure, and his body shut down to protect itself from the hurt."

The old man shuddered. "Yes, I heard him scream. It was terrible."

"Sometimes a cure can be just as painful as the original injury, or even more so. But he's on the road to recovery, and I promise you as soon as your son is a bit stronger and more alert I will let you speak with him. Unless..." The physician cast a stern look at Mr. Buxton. "... you wear yourself out with worry. You must promise me to get some rest today, and a good night's sleep later on. There is nothing you can do, and your son is well cared for in Mrs. Hargrave's capable hands."

Mr. Buxton agreed to this demand with a sigh before accompanying the surgeon to the door.